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CHAPTER FOUR

November 5, 1997, 9:46 A.M.

On the morning of November 5, Harold Lebsock’s dog found a dead body near Hangman Valley Road. “Every day, Mr. Lebsock walked his dog through this particular area,” reported Deputy Jack Rosenthal, “and for the previous five days, the dog had been noticeably attracted to a certain section of landscape outside Lebsock’s view. Finally, curiosity compelled Lebsock’s personal investigation. His dog has been sniffing in the area where the body was located. He didn’t look in the area himself until this morning.”

Deputy Rosenthal entered the area alone, and only once, taking pictures as he went in. The body was approximately sixty feet off the roadway, next to a small creek running parallel to Hangman Valley Road. “A depression under the corpse gave the appearance that it had been buried at one time,” said the deputy. Moving in closer, Rosenthal observed that “the head, one leg, and one arm was showing. The rest of the body was buried. On the arm that was visible was a long sleeve from a shirt. It was blue in color, and there was material, possibly the same as the shirtsleeve, laying on the ground next to the body location.”

Rosenthal spent a total of five minutes in the body’s immediate area. At exactly 10:21 A.M., he notified headquarters of his findings. Within minutes, Detectives Grabenstein, Francis, Madsen, and Ruetsch, accompanied by Sergeant York, responded from the Public Safety Building.

Armed with appropriate information and directions, Detective Grabenstein retraced Rosenthal’s steps into the wooded area. “Just prior to reaching the actual grave site, an area of previous excavation was observed,” reported Grabenstein. “It appeared that the perpetrator may have attempted to dig the grave in this area but changed location for some unknown reason, possibly for easier digging or better concealment of the activity.”

The body, partially covered with dirt, was lying with the head to the north and the feet to the south. It was on its back, with the right side of the head, upper chest area, and upper arms exposed. “Also exposed was what I believed to be the right leg,” said Grabenstein. “It was doubled up and lying across the midsection of the body with the knee pointing to the east. The left leg was exposed from the midcalf region to foot area.”

Significant degradation to most exposed portions of the body was noted, primarily animal-caused, along with some degree of putrefaction. “The right side of the head was devoid of flesh and scalp and was nearly skeletonized,” stated Grabenstein. “Marks apparently inflicted by the teeth of predators were visible on the right side of the skull, and there was also a rounded defect present in the right rear portion of the skull that appeared consistent with a bullet wound.”

Predators also fed upon the left shoulder. Red-colored flesh was visible in open wounds, the remaining portion of the left arm from above the elbow was missing, as were the right ankle and foot. The left leg was visible from approximately the knee to the foot, with the lower portion of the calf and foot cradled in dirt.

“The flesh appears mummified but intact,” the detective reported. “The chest and lower portions of the torso are covered with a small amount of dirt. One piece of clothing is visible on the upper portion of the body that is a light blue, long-sleeved shirt. It appears that the material was damaged at the same time as the damage was inflicted on the body. On the right side of the body, a portion of the shirt shows the character Mickey Mouse in the normal black and red colors, leaning on a red capital letter M.”

Detectives from the Washington State Patrol soon arrived to set up their “Total Station” and began diagramming the scene as other investigation procedures progressed. Slowly and carefully, the detectives began a strategic excavation, much like that of an archeologist.

“Excavation continued from a distance of approximately twelve inches to approximately thirty-six inches from the body’s left foot. This was again excavated to a depth of approximately six feet with the soil removed and sifted,” explained Sergeant Walker. “It was then excavated approximately an additional six inches to facilitate removal of the body at a later time.”

“The sifting of soil and the gathering of evidence didn’t stop there,” said Grabenstein, emphasizing the procedure’s detailed thoroughness. “After initial excavation of the area east of the body, further material was removed nearer to the body and sifted. As items of possible evidentiary value were located, they were recorded as to the area from where the soil bearing the article had been removed. As the articles were located, they were photographed with their designated item number, and then the number was again photographed in the area of excavation where that portion of soil had been.”

During the excavation, circumstances of significant interest came to the detective’s attention. The victim’s head and left shoulder were resting on grass and vegetation. This indicated that it had been lying on the original surface of the ground at the time of burial.

“In other words, the area where the head was resting had not been dug out to form the grave,” he said. “Soil was mounded near the head, on top of the vegetation, indicating that soil had been dug up and placed on the original ground surface.”

By 4:00 P.M., excavation was completed on the east and south side of the body to a point where the body could be removed. Coroner Amend was summoned to the scene, as well as Ray Corkrum of the Cremation Society.

A piece of black plastic sheeting was placed in the bottom of the excavated area east of the body, and further minimal excavation was done along the west side of the body to allow it to be moved more easily. “The body was then rolled from its resting-place onto the plastic,” recalled the detective. “Some of the dirt adjacent to, and adhering to the body, dislodged, and the larger portions were collected.”

The body and remaining material were placed in a white body bag and delivered to the Forensic Institute by Corkrum. Due to darkness and a threat of rain, the area was covered with nylon. The following day, excavation continued while Detectives Madsen and Francis went to the Forensic Institute for the autopsy conducted by Dr. Lindholm. The victim was determined to be a white female, estimated live weight approximately 120 to 140 pounds, height 67½ inches, and her age range was twenties to thirties.

Dr. Lindholm’s preliminary examination of the body determined that the victim suffered two gunshot wounds. One bullet entered the left temporal region, approximately one inch above the auditory canal; the second passed through the upper helix area of the ear. “The direction of the gunshot wounds,” explained Francis, “was from left to right, exiting the victim from the right upper side of the skull. The victim, it was determined, was female, and the cause of her death was two gunshot wounds passing through the brain. The size of the perforations in the head suggested a .25 caliber or smaller. Other evidence collected at autopsy included oral, anal, and vaginal swabs.”

On November 12, at 10:30 A.M., forensic odontologist Dr. Frank Morgan, using dental records, was able to identify the remains as those of Darla Sue Scott, born as a twin on September 18, 1968. “Detective (Dave) Bentley and I attempted contacting Darla’s sister at her residence, but she wasn’t home,” reported Francis. “We then telephoned the Tacoma and Yakima Police Departments to have their chaplains notify Darla Scott’s parents.”

“Weighing in at just over three pounds at birth, Darla could have fit in a shoe box,” recalled her mother. “She struggled for life for two months. On her child’s fifth birthday, we said farewell to our Darla. Once again, fitting in a shoe box.”

“Getting pregnant and having a baby was Darla’s idea,” said the child’s father. “She believed that somehow that would keep her from going back to the street life, but it didn’t.” Scott got off drugs during her pregnancy “for the baby’s sake,” but her rehabilitation was short-lived.

“Darla went through at least five drug-treatment programs,” he recounted to detectives, “but she would only last in there for maybe two weeks, or as little as three days, before she would be back on the street selling herself for drugs.”

“No amount of love,” confirmed Darla’s mother, “could keep her feet from traveling a dark path. If left to choice, Darla would not have totally abandoned her parents, her twin sister, and her father, and the father of her child.”

Prior to her disappearance, Darla would call her daughter’s father at least every two or three weeks. “Sometimes she would be out of town with a truck driver,” he said. “When she called, I could tell that she was clean and sober.”

The last personal contact between Darla Scott and her child’s father was in early October, not long before her disappearance. “She was on East Sprague by Kmart,” he recalled. “She was waiting for a drug deal. I tried to convince her to come home with me, but she wouldn’t do it.”

The truck driver he mentioned enjoyed Darla Scott’s companionship, convivial conversation, and sexual virtuosity—but he insisted that Darla remain drug free. “Darla liked traveling with him,” said one of Darla’s longtime acquaintances, “because it took her out of the scene and kept her clean.” Ironically, Darla Scott logged more time drug free with the truck driver than she ever did in a rehab program.

The six-foot-tall, 185-pound truck driver frequently hauled frozen foods for his employer. He rented a room when in Spokane, and the woman who was his landlady spoke openly to Detective Grabenstein about her tenant and his relationship with Scott.

“The last time I saw Darla, she had just returned from a trip in his truck, and it was the day before her birthday,” she said. “Apparently, he had plans to take her out to dinner for her birthday, but she left to meet one of her friends and never came back. This upset him quite a bit. You see, when Darla was with him, she wasn’t using. So when Darla went back to her other friends to resume her normal lifestyle of drug use, he was very aggravated.”

“I love Darla,” he reportedly confessed to his landlady, “but I can’t stand what she’s doing any longer. I’ll only be rid of her and all her problems when she’s dead.”

Another longtime beau was good-hearted and good-humored Arthur, who spoke of her with lingering, bittersweet affection. “I was her boyfriend until Christmas of 1996, but I couldn’t tolerate her working the streets. It just got to me. I wasn’t jealous; that wasn’t it. It was just the whole scene was unhealthy and dangerous, and I was just getting either too old or too mature to put up with it. She couldn’t give it up, or wouldn’t give it up, I don’t know which, but I just wouldn’t stay in a relationship with her under those conditions. We were going to get together on her birthday, and she said she would call me that day, but I never heard from her.”

When Darla Scott’s twin sister first reported her as a missing person, many of Darla’s friends were not concerned. “I figured she was on the road with that truck driver,” confirmed one prostitute. “She’d mentioned that he’d asked her to take off with him, and that meant that she could be out of town for quite a while.”

There were rumors that associates of murdered heroin dealer Vito Tombari pegged Darla Scott for murder. “The rumor was that Darla turned in Vito on a drug charge, and some folks were out to get her,” explained a Spokane street person formerly in Darla’s circle. “I dunno—Vito is, I heard, the father of her sister’s kid, so it gets too weird. They say that five pounds of heroin disappeared when Vito was killed. I’ll tell ya one thing, Darla was heavy into drugs—mostly crack, but toward the end, she was doing heroin. Darla’s life was mostly about buying dope, selling dope, stealing dope, and get this—she was a fuckin’ snitch for the cops.”

“Darla was one of our number one informants,” confirmed Sergeant Walker. “When her drug-world associates asked her what she was doing in a police vehicle, she would tell them that she was dating that particular officer, which was complete nonsense. She wasn’t dating law enforcement; she was informing law enforcement.”

Despite her flaws, or perhaps to balance them, Scott manifested a pretzel-logic sense of loyalty to old friends. Whenever she set them up to be arrested by the police, she underplayed their acts of illegality. Incarcerated associates were, for the most part, willing to cut her slack.

“I don’t blame Darla,” said one former resident of the Spokane County Jail. “The cops had her under their thumb—the only way she could keep on the street, and feed her drug habit, was to do what they wanted, and what they wanted was for her to roll over and give people up. Well, she gave them me, but we remained friends. In fact, she visited me every week while I was in jail.”

There was always the possibility, of course, that someone against whom she provided a deposition—usually on videotape, as she was too drugged out to show up in person and appear credible—killed her in retribution. One of the first questions seriously considered by homicide detectives was if her murder was motivated by revenge.

“If every person she cheated, stole from, ripped off, or ratted out were a suspect in her murder,” said one of Scott’s acquaintances, “the suspect list would make Schindler’s list look like a fuckin’ Post-it Note for shoppin’ at the Circle K.”

Everyone agreed that “Darla, bless her heart, was a thief. She would rob anyone if she had half a chance,” recalled a male acquaintance. “In fact, she once bragged to me about stealing five hundred dollars from a perfectly polite traveling salesman who offered her that much money for spending the night with him. She took the money, said she was stepping out to buy a pack of smokes, and never came back.”

“Darla and I have been friends since the sixth grade,” said one young woman sadly. “From what I understood, the twins were adopted at birth. They were well cared for, and I don’t think either of the girls was ever abused. Both the parents sort of had disabilities, and could be a bit overbearing, but they didn’t have any sort of awful home life.”

Darla confided in her friend about her prostitution activities, telling her that oral sex was the activity that Darla engaged in most of the time. “From what I could tell, Darla would do anything for money, and she never indicated that there was any type of sexual activity or behavior that she avoided. Even though Darla talked about using condoms, she was just as likely to reuse them or not use them at all.”

“I wasn’t surprised that someone finally killed Darla” said one ex-prostitute to Detective John Miller. “She would rip off everyone, and she would rob her johns. Darla told me that she carried a small pistol in her waistband, and she would brag that she used it to rob her customers.”

“That’s absolute bullshit,” insists Arthur, Darla’s longtime, long-suffering boyfriend. “Darla was scared to death of guns, scared of just about everything, and she was a crybaby. Darla’s first response in any unpleasant or threatening situation was to run and cry. I mean, that was Darla. She might make up bullshit stories to tell other women on the street, but Darla didn’t ever have a gun, wouldn’t want a gun, and if she saw one, she would run and cry.”

Despite her thievery, Darla easily infatuated her regulars, and more than one became dangerously obsessive. Whenever a customer fell head over wallet in love, Darla would discard him for a newer, less clinging sugar daddy. One man with whom she had a long-term financially based relationship was a married pawnshop proprietor. “Some folks thought that she was blackmailing him, threatening to tell his wife if he didn’t give her money,” said Arthur. “But his wife knew what was going on the whole time.”

The pawnbroker’s long-term loans were offset by his short-fused temper. “One day, he broke into my father’s house by smashing in the back window,” recalled Arthur. “We were letting Darla stay there, and he goes inside and tries to force her to leave with him. His friend Sergeant Moore of the Spokane police, I believe, conveniently detained me on the way home. This would, I guess, give him time to get in and get Darla. Well, the timing was off. I get to my dad’s house and there is that pawnbroker guy struggling with Darla, and she’s stark naked. Well, not only does she refuse to go with him, she gives him hell—telling him to get his ass out of that house, and then she added, ‘While you’re at it, leave fifty dollars on the table when you go!’ You know what? He actually dug fifty bucks out of his wallet and put it right there on the table on his way out.”

“Immediately prior to her disappearance,” related another lifestyle associate of Scott’s, “he—the pawnbroker—became furious with Darla because she left him sitting around like a dog while she was up in my apartment. He stormed out and then called and left her a message on the answering machine: ‘Darla, you bitch! You fucking whore! I should have come up there, kicked the door down, and dragged you out of there.’ Well, it was a day or two after this message and their confrontation that Darla went out to run some errands and never came back.” Detectives spoke extensively with the former pawnbroker and his aggravated spouse. Both were eliminated as suspects.

“Darla stayed all over the place, her and other girls,” said one of Darla’s former associates. “She stayed with a security guard for a while, way back she used to be at Arthur’s, and then at Arthur’s father’s house. Then, for a while, she stayed over at Mr. Wilson’s, who lived at his mother’s place. Darla and some other working girls used to hang out there quite a bit. Maybe you should talk to him.”

“My mother passed away in September of 1996,” Wilson explained. “Prior to her death, I took care of her for three to four years. After she died, I was lonely.” Detective Fred Ruetsch showed Wilson photographs of Darla Scott and 1996 homicide victim Shannon Zelinski, both of whom he recognized. “Yes, I remember them. They, and some of the other girls, often stayed here at the house, but I never used their services—I just needed their company. There were several of those women in and out of my house, and I did not really know all their names. Oftentimes they stole money or property from me. I guess I was an easy touch.”

Detective Ruetsch asked Wilson if he owned any handguns. “I used to own a .38 five-shot revolver that I bought from my daughter,” he replied. “I sold it to Gun Emporium here in Spokane. I also own a rifle that my son’s had for the last eight or nine years.”

“When I asked him had he any other guns,” recalled Ruetsch, “he stated that he used to have a gun that was stolen from him in approximately 1996, which he described as a .32 automatic. He advised that whoever stole it left behind a clip and a box of ammunition, as well as the bill of sale for the gun, which he said that he bought for seventy-five dollars about a year before it was stolen.”

Wilson had a fairly good idea of who stole the weapon, or at least a likely suspect, but he had never made a police report regarding the weapon’s theft. “When the interview was over, I asked him to go through his personal belongings and attempt to locate the bill of sale, the clip, and the ammunition that he had for the stolen gun.”

“I found the sack that had the ammunition in it,” Wilson told Ruetsch by telephone later that day. “I found it down in the basement, but there was nothing inside it. I don’t know what happened to it. It’s possible that my grandson took them, although I don’t know that for a fact. But I am fairly confident,” he told the detective, “that I no longer have the gun, the ammunition, the clip, or the bill of sale.”

As detectives retraced Darla Scott’s meandering path and temporary residences, they saw repetitive patterns of taking advantage and violating trusts—not always by Darla herself, but often by those who followed her into homes and apartments offered to the distraught and homeless by the lonely and depressed.

“Darla was the only single woman my mother ever let stay at the house,” remembered Arthur. “Mom wouldn’t let single girls or troublemakers stay in our home. Darla was the one girl that Momma made an exception for, and Darla knew it. So Darla never disrespected my mother or the family, never stole from her, nothing like that. No, when it came to my family, Darla behaved herself. Of course, when she went elsewhere, all bets were off.”

While authorities characterized Scott’s lifestyle as “on society’s fringe,” it was beyond the fringe, and one step beyond anything her contemporaries in “mainstream society” could imagine, much less endure on a daily basis. Life is always a crisis when you’re addicted or habituated to an illegal substance.

“Darla and I would go to the same drug houses,” explained one woman to detectives, “so we knew the same dealers, including one woman who would get real pissed and threatening if she found out that you bought from somebody else.” Scott also told her and several other people that she had ripped off more than one “drug cop”—or at least patrons claiming to be police officers. One heroin dealer strongly warned Scott not to rob her clients, especially police clients, as that could get her killed.