Читать книгу Slow Death: - James Fielder - Страница 13
ОглавлениеCHAPTER 5
Grabbing a hooker is easier than grabbing a housewife.
—David Parker Ray audiotape, recorded in 1993 and seized by the FBI in 1999
By early April 1999, over one hundred FBI and NMSP agents were swarming all over the David Ray property at 513 Bass Road. Many of them were wearing white jump-suits and masks and digging in the yard. Others wore surgical gloves and concentrated on what evidence they could find inside the white cargo trailer and the brown-and-white mobile home Ray used as a house.
Eleven days after he was arrested, Ray claimed another victim when Patty Rust killed herself after spending four days inside the toy box making detailed drawings for the Federal Bureau of Investigation.
The day after Rust killed herself, Jim Yontz took a stroll through the toy box. He wondered why the FBI sent a woman into a torture chamber when everybody working the case suspected that other women had been literally “frightened to death” by the tall, skinny mechanic with a reputation for being “good with his hands.”
When Yontz walked up to the rear end of the $100,000 handmade chamber of horrors, he first noticed the 7259-TRJ New Mexico license plate. There was an Arizona Highway Patrol Association decal right next to it that said I SUPPORT THE BEST. The trailer was jacked up on wooden blocks and Yontz noticed it didn’t have any windows. He walked up the four steps and opened what had previously been a double dead-bolted, steel-reinforced door.
He immediately spotted a can of Folgers coffee. The Charles Manson Family had killed Abigail Folger in 1969 and Yontz wondered if David Ray was paying his respects in some sicko kind of way. Next to the coffee can was a box of Kellogg’s corn flakes and a small refrigerator. Hanging on the wall was a roll of paper towels that said HOME-SWEET-HOME.
After that, it got ugly.
On the left wall, Jim noticed a large white sign with big red block letters that identified David Ray’s name for his little private hideaway: SATAN’S DEN. Next to the big sign was a smaller white sign with black underlined letters that identified what Yontz was about to see: THE BONDAGE ROOM. Down at the other end of the trailer was a hand-lettered sign that said I AM RATHER BUSY—WOULD YOU PISS OFF!
Standing right next to the Satan’s Den sign was a tall tripod with a very expensive RCA Victor camcorder pointing toward a large black leather table/chair rigged up with metal stirrups, electrodes and dozens of red plastic straps. Hanging from the ceiling next to what looked like the gynecology table was an RCA Victor television set, positioned so the female victims could see what Ray was doing to them.
Walking up the left side of the chamber, Yontz saw a coat hanger with a long black robe hanging from it. The robe had a red cape. There was a bussinesslike clipboard hanging next to the robe and Yontz noticed that Ray had what looked like a “roll call” list of victims he’d kidnapped between 1993 and 1997. Yontz knew that was the period of time after his fourth wife, Joannie Lee, divorced him and before the time he met his last live-in lover, Cindy Hendy. He read the list and tried not to let his emotions get in the way. It wasn’t easy. Each nameless woman on the list had cowboylike “notch marks” after their date of capture.
| KIDNAP DATE | NUMBER OF ASSAULTS | |
|---|---|---|
| February 7th, 1994 | IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII | (27) |
| April 16th, 1994 | IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII | (33) |
| July 3rd, 1994 | IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII | (28) |
| September 9th, 1994 | IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII | (41) |
| March 6th, 1995 | IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII | (33) |
| May 8th, 1995 | IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII | (53) |
| June 10th, 1995 | IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII | (32) |
| August 4th, 1995 | IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII | (42) |
| September 25th, 1995 | IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII | (33) |
| November 15th, 1995 | IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII | (39) |
| January 27th, 1996 | IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII | (51) |
| March 2nd, 1996 | IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII | (38) |
| May 7th, 1996 | IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII | (32) |
| July 3rd, 1996 | IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII | (38) |
| October 4th, 1996 | IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII | (48) |
| March 16th, 1997 | IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII | (46) |
| September 23rd, 1997 | IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII | (33) |
Halfway down the left-hand wall, Yontz walked up to a large cork bulletin board covered with color and black-and-white photographs and black-and-white drawings of women—all being tortured. A sign above the bulletin board seemed to sum up the driving force behind David Ray: THE LURE OF SATANISM.
The photographs showed women in various stages of bondage. Yontz’s attention was first drawn to a young redheaded woman, naked, with her hands tied behind her back. She was gagged with a red bandanna and looking the camera right in the eye. Her eyes seemed to be smiling. Another picture showed a woman in obvious pain. Her naked breasts were hog-tied at the base with circles of constricting white rope, making them bulge. Old-fashioned wooden clothespins were attached to each nipple and her face seemed smothered in fear. A third picture showed a faceless woman tied down to a bench press with her legs forced wide apart. Bruises covered her body, especially the inside of her thighs.
Posted next were a series of “drawings” showing the stages in which Ray liked to torture women. One showed a table with a woman arching her back in pain, her wrists and ankles tied together behind her back. A handwritten sign above her body read NEW TABLE FOR CHURCH RITUALS. The drawing below showed how to hog-tie a woman to the “gynecology table,” one step at a time. Another drawing showed a woman down on her hands and knees attached to something Ray called his “doggie frame.” Still another showed a woman hanging from the ceiling by her ankles and hands with a man below her inserting two dildos into the two openings between her legs. The man playing doctor wore a satanic pentangle around his neck and resembled a much younger version of David Parker Ray, mustache and all.
Stapled next to the photographs and drawings was a detailed warning list prepared by Ray. Yontz copied the wicked list from top to bottom and noticed Ray hadn’t forgotten a single detail.
| REMEMBER A WOMAN WILL DO OR SAY ANYTHING TO GET LOOSE THEY WILL: | ||
| KICK | SCRATCH | OFFER MONEY |
| BITE | YELL | BEG |
| SCREAM | RUN | OFFER SEX |
| THREATEN | LIE | WAIT FOR OPPORTUNITY |
| STANDARD EXCUSES AND SOB STORIES: | ||
| MENSTRUATING PREGNANT V.D. AIDS SICK KIDS WITH BABYSITTER HAVE TO WORK A SICK BABY A SICK PARENT CLAUSTROPHOBIA MISSED BY HUSBAND OR FRIEND BAD HEART CAN’T MISS SCHOOL | ||
| DON’T LET HER GET TO YOU IF SHE WAS WORTH TAKING—SHE IS WORTH KEEPING AND SHE MUST BE SUBJECTED TO HYPNOSIS BEFORE THE WOMAN CAN BE SAFELY RELEASED | ||
| NEVER TRUST A CHAINED CAPTIVE |
The wall on the right-hand side of the toy box was covered with the tools of his trade: chains, whips, paddles, pulleys, leather belts, saw blades, harnesses, handcuffs, ropes, wires, needles, pins, screw clamps, nipple clamps, breast clamps, breast suction cups, metal bras, sandpaper, metal dildos, wooden dildos, plastic dildos, latex dildos of all sizes, a branding iron, a soldering iron and weighted lead sinkers—there was even an assortment of fishhooks.
Yontz looked up at the ceiling and saw dozens of red straps hanging down, all covered with rows of wooden clothespins.
A large yellow generator sat on the floor under the wall of dangling sex toys. It had a handle on top and was attached to the back of a fifteen-inch flesh-colored motorized dildo pointing forward and designed to look exactly like a man’s penis, right down to the crooked and bulging veins. The giant rubber device looked as big as a large sausage and it was so thick no man could ever grip it around the middle with a closed fist. The back of the generator had three switches: BUZZER, LIGHT and PROBE. The entire apparatus looked like it could be picked up and wielded like some kind of jackhammer.
The space between the walls of the cargo trailer was filled with the large gynecological table/chair rigged to slide back and forth on a six-foot tract. It was wired to a voltage meter, with wires that could be attached to a woman’s breasts and genitalia. There was also a generator that controlled the position of the black leather table—changing the elevation, foot position, back angle and, if necessary, the tilt of the entire female body tied down by red nylon straps to the D rings that served as wrist and ankle stirrups. A large hooded elbow light was bolted to the end of the table to illuminate the victim’s vagina while Ray forced her to watch him rape her live on TV.
Walking down the right side of the chamber, Yontz looked down at the floor and saw a one-foot-tall Barbie doll with long black hair. Miniature chains were attached like shackles and hanging from her ankles, wrists, nipples and neck.
Finally, arriving at the back of the trailer on the right side, Yontz examined Ray’s stainless-steel medicine cabinet. It was covered with latex gloves, forceps, rolls of cotton, Spanish K-Y jelly, petroleum jelly, bottles of chloroform, ammonia “poppers” and hypodermic syringes. Three white candles were mounted on top of a model of a human skull and the bleached skull was standing next to a handcarved wooden dildo. To the left was a collection of David Ray’s small library of mostly female anatomy and withcraft books. Jim Yontz jotted down some of the titles that caught his eye:
Birth
Family Medical Guide
Emergency Victim Care
Fundamentals of Human Sexuality
Sexual Behavior of the Human Female
The Dark World of Witches
American Psycho
On the very top shelf of the cabinet, he noticed two naked baby dolls, one with a big patch of blond pubic hair and the other with a big patch of black pubic hair. Underneath the cabinet was an aluminum confinement drawer with a six-foot-long cot that slid out like a tray in a morgue and seemed to be the perfect place to store a live female body until Ray decided what to do with her next.
Jim turned and saw a plastic curtain that seemed to close off a small dressing area for the women. Ray had assembled a collection of nightgowns, along with a shelf containing shampoo, body lotion, baby powder, baby oil, mouthwash, perfume and lipstick.
Just before he completed “the grand tour,” Jim Yontz looked up and saw another set of torture drawings, even more grotesque than the first set he’d seen on the other side of the trailer. This group was numbered 1 through 13, and after looking at all of them, Yontz found there was one that would forever leave a permanent imprint on his mind. It was labeled THE 12 VOLT MOTORIZED BREAST STRETCHER and he’d seen a photograph of Cyndy Vigil that looked just like the drawing.
David Ray had a drawing of a naked woman strapped down by her hips, belly and chest with a hood over her face. Rubber-lined clamps were attached to her nipples and connected to the machine by nylon cords. Ray had typed instructions telling his followers how to torture the victim:
1. Operate motor with the lever in the “up” position.
2. Attach clamps securely to each nipple.
3. Tighten cord until breasts are stretched to the maximum length.
4. Turn machine “on” and watch nipples for indication of tearing and check clamps for slippage. Continue to operate.
NOTE: This process is very painful and due to the constant motion, the body will not adjust to the pain. During the operation, the subject will remain in extremely painful distress.
By the time Yontz was ready to leave the toy box, his mind was crowded with disturbing images. He wondered if the four days in the box had triggered lost childhood memories for Patty Rust. There was no way to know, he concluded. One item he saw would make any woman shudder, however. In the very back of the trailer, he had seen a small ceramic ashtray shaped like a woman floating on her back in a pool of turquoise water. Her legs were spread wide and her large black pubic patch seemed to invite any man with a smoke in his hands to put out his burning cigarette right between her legs.
Jim Yontz walked out of the toy box, thankful that his own wife would never have to take a walk through such a horrible place.
A few days later, prosecutor Jim Yontz sat down to listen to one of the six audiotapes the FBI found inside the mobile home; he suddenly caught himself thinking about Patty Rust one more time. True, she had seen what a monster the good-old-boy handyman David Parker Ray could be inside his torture chamber, but at least she had not been forced to listen to the heartless Ray on the audiotapes he recorded to help indoctrinate his new recruits.
This was Ray at his worst, Yontz thought.
The sound of David Ray’s calm voice could make your skin crawl:
Nikkie was a whore in Phoenix, Arizona.
I had known her two or three years, but I didn’t screw around with her then. She had long blond hair, pretty well built, not beautiful, but not bad-looking, either. What really fascinated me about her was that she had these big, humongous tits. I used to watch her working, walking back and forth in front of Canal Motors, watching those big ol’ tits bounce, fantasizing about what I would like to do to them.
Seven or eight months after I left that job, I had to go back over to Arizona for a few days. I pulled my trailer and, needless to say, I went and looked Nikkie up. What I had in mind was to keep her chained and locked up in my trailer for about a week and use her for a sex toy, but it didn’t work out that way. When I picked her up, her boyfriend knew where she was at. I asked her what she would charge to let me tie her up and spank her before I fucked her. She said a hundred dollars, but I didn’t want to spend a hundred bucks, so I just got a blow job and took her back to town.
The bitch gave me the clap.
I didn’t think you’d catch the clap with a blow job, but the doctors assured me that you could. Needless to say, I was pissed, but I wasn’t in Arizona anymore and there wasn’t a whole hell of a lot I could do about it, at least not at that moment.
About six months later, I was in New Mexico and I took some stuff over to Arizona for an auction. I had my trailer and I looked Nikkie up. It took two days to find her [snicker]. That bitch got around! During that two days, I talked to several guys that had been fucking her pretty regular. She had gotten rid of the VD. Her boyfriend wasn’t anywhere around when I picked her up that time. I took her back to the trailer and I told her I wanted to do the hundred-dollar deal: tie her up, spank her and fuck her. And she went for it—made it almost too easy for me.
The bondage table and related equipment folds up in concealed compartments, so she didn’t have a clue as to what my real motives were. She didn’t know exactly what I wanted to do, so I led her through it. She sat on a small cot, I used a rope to tie her ankles together, and then I used two separate ropes to tie her wrists down to her ankles—one rope on each wrist. I had a specific reason for tying her wrists that way, as I will explain later.
She cooperated completely until I brought out a tube-tied breathing gag and a roll of duct tape.
That cunt did not want to be gagged. But I got it in her mouth and put several wraps of duct tape around her head to hold it in place. To be double sure, I wrapped duct tape under her chin and over the top of her head several times so she couldn’t open her jaws. She still wasn’t too upset, just pissed off because I gagged her. I moved across the trailer, pulled the latches, and let the bondage table down. That bitch took one look at the table and the rack that had been concealed behind it holding whips, harnesses, dildos and other devices related to bondage [snicker].
She came unglued!
She really got upset. I sat down beside her and told her in no uncertain terms what I thought of a whore who gave me the clap. About the aggravation, the problems with the girlfriends, the doctor bills, trips to the hospital, and that there was going to be a hell of a lot more retribution than just spanking: payback’s a real motherfucker [snicker].
She just sat there trying to get loose and shaking her head back and forth—like No, no, no, but it was really Yes, yes, yes. I picked her up and sat her on the table, pushed her over on the middle of it, and positioned her on her back with her feet and arms pointed up. I held her that way and locked the chain around her neck that was attached to the table. That settled her down a little bit, but not much. A rope from the ceiling ring was tied to her ankles so she couldn’t kick. The wrist bindings on the upper corner of the table consist of an adjustable chain that is attached to the corner of the table with a handcuff on the other end. Releasing one rope at a time, I secured her arms up to the upper corners of the table. Her legs were folded back, spread well apart, and also chained to the upper corners. That little whore was bouncing her ass all over the table while I finished strapping her down. I buckled table straps across her upper chest, her rib cage and her belly. Two more table straps were buckled over each side and pulled tight, holding her ass firmly down on the table. Two more straps went across the back of each knee, holding her legs securely down. That position gets uncomfortable as hell for a woman after a while, but it works pretty neat for me.
She was absolutely and totally immobilized.
Couldn’t move any part of her body at all except her head. Legs folded back and spread, and hips turned up with the asshole and pussy fully exposed. With her knees strapped down to the table on each side of her chest, the legs didn’t interfere with access to her tits. They sagged off each side a little bit, but that was okay. God, they must have weighed five pounds apiece. The bitch was top-heavy. She had large fluffy cunt lips on each side of the slightly open pussy.
She was a hooker because she had a hundred-dollar-a-day drug habit; she had already told me that. That was why she agreed to let me spank her for a hundred bucks. She’d go get her drugs so she didn’t have to work the rest of the night. I didn’t tell her then that she wasn’t going to be working for quite a while. She also didn’t get the hundred-dollar bill. I’d already taken it out of her sock. Anyway, I picked up the whip and gave her about a dozen good whacks....
By that time, I was horny as hell. I climbed on the table and put just a little bit of Vaseline right around the head of my dick and stuck it in her asshole. Apparently, she didn’t get into that too much; it was nice and tight.
After that, I gave her a damn good ass-fucking.
