Profile of a Murder

By Roger Vizi

Owossa is a small, quiet town in the Midwest. The type of town where you know everyone and you aren't afraid to walk down the streets at night.
All this changes when, on the morning of July 12th, a call comes into the 911-dispatch office reporting a body being found in the woods. This one call, and the circumstances arising from the investigation bring attention to this town like it has never seen before when it is discovered that this killer is one of it's own.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Oct 11, 2001
• ISBN: 9781469751283

Roger Vizi

After completing Profile of a Murder, Mr. Vizi is now working on the manuscript for Angels on my Wings.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

Judy Weller pulled her 1989 blue Ford pickup into parking lot of the Central dispatch office. She always tried to find a parking spot close to the door so she didn’t have to walk very far. There was an open parking place next to the entrance, so she turned the wheel sharply to the left and maneuvered the big Ford truck between the lines.

Judy opened the door and looked ominously at the concrete below. I’ve got to install some running boards on this beater one of these days, she thought.

Once her feet were firmly on the ground, she turned and retrieved the purse and black insulated coffee mug with the insignia of the Sheriff’s office emblazoned on it. She had used this same mug for the entire 12 years that she had been a 911 dispatcher. It was her good luck charm. Nothing bad had ever happened when it was with her.

The door lock button was pushed down and the heavy door to her chariot was slammed shut, turned around and headed for the entrance which would lead to the dark, windowless room where the next 8 long hours would be spent answering phones at the dispatch center. The shift started at 7:30a.m.and it was now 7:22a.m.

Turning to take one last longing look at the nearly perfect day before opening the glass door that would lead her down the long hallway, she took a deep cleansing breath of the succulent air, then went inside. This wasn’t work necessarily, but rather a chance to talk with people knowing that she was their life-line when they needed help.

Fumbling for the key that would open the door to the dispatch office, she started walking down the corridor. The clacking of her shoes seemed louder than normal on the hard tile floor. Looking down, Judy noticed she had put on the wrong pair of shoes and her head shook in disgust.

It was 7:27am, when she reached the door to the Dispatch Center. Balancing her purse and coffee mug so that the key could be firmly pushed into the security lock, she turned the key and pushed the heavy door open.

When she got inside, the door slowly closed and locked with a kind of sound that reminded you of a cell door closing behind a prisoner in jail.

Judy walked slowly to her assigned desk, and looked down at the coaster by the computer that her son had made. It had a picture of her whole family on it. He told her that he made it so that they would always be with her at work, as they were not allowed to visit the secured room when she was working.

The coffee mug was set down gently on the coaster and the lower right hand drawer of the desk was opened. She dropped her purse in and closed it with a thud. Pressing the button on the computer, it came to life with a whirling sound. Leaning back in the chair, she looked around the brightly lit, windowless room to see who was working today.

To her right was the slightly elevated platform where supervisor, John Kinny, sat. From his terminal, he was able to monitor all of the calls that came into the center, and join in on conversations with his dispatch team if they needed assistance.

Judy waved and said good morning John, then continued to look around the room at the other two dispatchers that would be working the shift with her today.

The terminal signaled with a loud BEEP indicating that it was on line. Judy signed on and then looked at her watch. It was now 7:31a.m.

At 7:35a.m. on July 12th her first call came in to the Shiawass County 911 Dispatch office. Judy plugged in the headset and adjusted it to fit comfortably before picking up the call on line one.

911 dispatch, do you need fire, police, or ambulance? she asked.

This is Mary Dobson, the caller began, my boys just came home and told me they found a body in the woods behind our house! So I guess I need the Police. Mary said with a tremble in her voice.

Did you check this out, Ma’am? Judy inquired.

No, I don’t think I could handle seeing a dead body if there is one, came her rather matter of fact reply.

What’s your address please? the dispatcher continued with her questioning.

4112 North Delany Road. I’m about 3 miles south of M 21 on the right. Please hurry. Mary insisted.

We’ll send a unit right out, Mrs. Dobson.

The caller was disconnected, and she leaned back slightly in the chair to process the information that had just been received. It was clear that this might have just been a historic call. There had never been a call received about a dead body being discovered in this county at any time during the 12 years that she had been doing dispatch. Could it have been a prank call, she wondered? One thing was certain; an officer needed to be dispatched to the scene as quickly as possible to check it out.

Judy called her supervisor over to explain the particulars of the call that was received.

Should I have one of the Detectives go out on this one, John? Judy inquired.

No, send an officer first. Let him make the decision if a Detective is needed.

The computer screen showed each officer, and what section of the county they were assigned. Unit 25, with officer Bob Johnson, was handling that section of the county today. Judy keyed the mic, and made the call.

Central Dispatch to unit 25.

Unit 25, go ahead.

Unit 25, respond to 4112 North Delany Road, Code 2, ask for a Mrs. Mary Dobson.

Central, Unit 25, what’s the nature of the call?

Unit 25, Central, the caller reported a possible body being found in the woods behind her home. Her two boys came home with the report, though she couldn’t confirm it. Investigate, then report your findings back to dispatch, Judy ended.

After what seemed like an unusually long period of time a response echoed over the line from Officer Johnson.

Unit 25 in route, crackled the rather forceful reply.

Officer Bob Johnson had been a member of the Owassa City Police Department for five years. He liked working in Owassa because of the low crime rate. As far as he knew, there had never been any reports of a body having been discovered in Owassa during the time that he had patrolled these streets, or for that matter, ever. He wondered, and even worried a little over just what he might find at the scene. Several possible scenarios went through his head, both the good and the bad. Maybe he would find nothing more than a branch that looked like an arm, or it might turn out to be something as simple as a mannequin that someone had stolen and dumped in the woods.

He wasn’t sure what he might find, but one thing he was certain of, if it did turn out to be a human body, he’d better do everything right at the scene. A body discovered within the city limits, stumbled upon by two young boys out playing, and would be big news in this town. Regardless of what might follow, there was one thing he was positive of, that he didn’t want to be remembered as the officer that contaminated the crime scene.

CHAPTER 2

Officer Bob Johnson turned his police cruiser left off from West M 21 on to the gravel road that would lead him to the address on North Delany Road. The road was full of potholes, and the sound of loose gravel could be heard pelting his car. Because of this he hated having to take calls in this part of town.

Office Johnson scanned each home on North Delany road looking for the address. Most of the houses had addresses on their mailbox, and he hoped this was one of those cases. He arrived at the address less than ten minutes from the time he received the call and wheeled the big Police cruiser into the driveway of the Dobson home. Waiting for him on the front porch of the home was Mrs. Dobson with her two boys.

Officer Johnson made a quick call into Central Dispatch.

Unit 25 is at the scene, Officer Johnson reported.

Officer Johnson shut the engine off, removed the keys, and lifted himself out of the cruiser. He placed his hat on his head, adjusted his gun belt, and then moved slowly but confidently toward the house being very careful not to approach to quickly for fear of frightening the two boys.

Mrs. Dobson, I’m Officer Johnson. He introduced himself with a tip of his brow and an easy smile. He couldn’t help but notice that though she was the mother of two young boys, she still looked quite young and attractive.

I understand the boys found something in the woods behind your home? Officer Johnson began the questioning.

Yes. Mrs. Dobson replied. They ran home all excited. Once I had them calmed down enough so they could make some sense, they told me this ridiculous story of having found a body out there, in the woods, Mrs. Dobson explained, pointing her finger in the direction that the boys had reported finding the body.

And what are your names? he began the process of questioning the youngsters, lowering himself on one knee.

This is Don and Peter. Mrs. Dobson answered for them. Both boys looked disappointed at having the opportunity to speak with a police officer taken away from them.

And just how old are you?

Don is 10, and Peter 8. Mrs. Dobson interjected once again.

Officer Johnson took notes of the conversation in his notebook, so he would have accurate information for the report he would have to write later back at the station.

Can you show me where you made the discovery back in the woods? Officer Johnson asked softly. It was important to have these boys trust him, given the situation.

You bet we can! replied Peter enthusiastically.

Would that be all right with you, Mrs. Dobson, if the boys escort me back to where they were playing so I can begin my investigation?

Mary Dobson hesitated for several long moments pondering if she should allow the boys to go back out into the woods, considering there might really be a dead body lying out there. She had to consider all sides of the question. What if they later suffered through nightmares over having seen the dead body? Could she, a single divorced mother, handle all of this alone?

Mrs. Dobson, are you all right? His concerns over her own well being was obvious.

Yes, I’m fine. But I don’t think they should go back into the woods if there is a dead body back there, Mrs. Dobson explained.

Officer Johnson could understand her concern having three children of his own. He wasn’t sure what he would do if his own children came home and reported they had found a dead body in the woods. How would he handle that type of situation with his own kids? He could certainly understand what Mrs. Dobson was going through.

Can the boys at least give me some sort of an idea where they were playing when they made the discovery? That would be a great help, the officer compromised.

Mrs. Dobson asked the boys to describe to the officer the area they were playing in when the discovery was made. The boys said they were only about half way into the woods when they saw what looked like an arm, half bent with the fingers sticking straight up, out of a pile of leaves. Moving closer they saw it was an arm sticking out. The sight horrified them and that’s when they ran home to tell their mother about the discovery.

Can you come to the back of the house with me and point in the direction you were playing? Officer Johnson inquired.

Sure, Peter replied enthusiastically, moving quickly to follow the big police officer.

We were playing over there.

Peter raised his right arm, extended his forefinger and pointed to a tire swing hanging from a tree not more than 500 feet from the home.

You should find the fingers just on the other side of the swing, Don explained innocently.

Officer Johnson thanked the boys, turned and followed their directions into the woods. As he began the walk into the dark, damp solitude of the thickly wooded sanctuary, he could imagine boys innocently playing without a care in the world. He could even hear the echo of his own footsteps coming from the trees as if he were the only person on the planet. It was a feeling he once had before when hiking in the thick woods in the Northern part of the state. He was brought back to reality rapidly when, at about 100 feet from the swing, the foul stench of rotting flesh began to seep its way into the surrounding air. The scent was like that of dead animals he would pick up beside the road after they had been hit by a car, only this odor was much more pungent, and different from anything he had ever smelled before. The further he advanced into the woods, the more pronounced the foul stench became.

Once at the tire swing he began to search around the area, his nose following the sickly smell. There, not more than a few feet away from the swing, he could make out the shadow of an arm sticking out from beneath a pile of leaves, just as the boys had described. He could not believe eyes. He just stood there, alone and nauseated, frozen for a few short moments, unable to think of what should be done next. The redolence was almost more then he could bear. Then, slowly at first, the long years of sitting through officer training classes at the University, and the many years of police instruction began to surface. First and foremost, the crime scene must be protected by not going any closer to the body. He stood, frozen in time, visually taking in every detail of the surrounding area, searching for clues. One observation was there appeared to be some broken branches on the blackberry bushes to the west of the body. This could have been the point of entry, or the boys may have broken the branches playing in the area. In another area, the leaves appeared to be trampled on the ground indicating a lot of activity had occurred here. He then reached down on his left side for his portable radio; it would be his lifeline to the world outside from this cavern of death. Lifting the radio, he paused before depressing the microphone button that would put him in instant contact with Central Dispatch. The next words that he uttered over the airwaves would, quite possibly, be the most important he had ever said. He would be judged on how this dramatic situation was handled.

He depressed the microphone button with some hesitation with his slightly trembling thumb.

Central Dispatch, this is unit 25, he said with authority. Go to tack two, and get me a supervisor right away.

Officer Johnson switched the radio frequency to channel two. Tack two was a more secure channel used by Police agencies, one that wasn’t as likely to be picked up by scanners in the area. He didn’t want any information he passed along the police channels getting out to the public until they had a chance to sort out the details.

The radio crackled to life.

Unit 25, this is Supervisor John Kinny of Central Dispatch, how can I help?

Central, Unit 25, I need a crime unit out at this location as soon as possible. I also need to have Detective Fickees here as well. This is a code 1 response, Officer Johnson qualified.

Code 1 was the code request calling for an immediate response. The officer must have discovered something very important while investigating the scene. Could it be there had been a murder in their county? Was it possible there might be a killer on the loose? These were the thoughts that occupied John Kinny’s mind after the call came in from Officer Johnson. He looked inquiringly around the Central Dispatch office at the other dispatchers. They were all looking straight at him. They knew from the tone of his voice that Officer Johnson had discovered something at the Delany Road location.

He looked around the room and said, Just remember one thing. What you hear in this room doesn’t leave this room. Is that clearly understood? All of the other dispatchers nodded their heads indicating they understood his command. He then turned his attention back to the situation at hand.

He keyed the microphone and began his instructions. Roger. I’ll have the crime unit and Detective Fickees dispatched to your location right away. Do you require any other assistance?

Yes, Officer Johnson responded. You better send an ambulance and the coroner as well, he requested, his voice trailing off.

"And John, keep this information as secure as possible.

The last thing we need is the public or the media to find out about this before we’re able to protect the crime scene."

10-4, came the professional response from Central.

Officer Johnson stood alone in the woods; the smell of decaying flesh permeated the air, his nostrils flared with every slight breeze that blew, wondering just how long the body had been lying there. He tried to recall any information that may have come into the office concerning any missing persons, though he couldn’t recall any.

Turning around towards the house again he had to consider the best way to inform Mrs. Dobson about the discovery. She would have to be told, not only because the crime unit would be there any minute but they would also want to question her and the boys about the discovery. He also needed to secure the area so no one could get close while the team was investigating at the scene. Alone for the moment at least, he prayed that the crime unit would be there soon.

He walked back to the house, carefully retracing his own footsteps so he didn’t disturb the landscape any more than it had been already. When he reached the front yard of the Dobson home, he asked to speak to Mrs. Dobson, alone, away from the boys.

Your boys were right, he began. There is something out there in the woods, though I’m not certain of what it is yet. I’ve asked that the crime unit and a Detective come out and begin the investigation, the officer explained, watching for any reaction from his stunned caller.

There’s going to be a lot of activity here very soon so if it’s not too much of a bother, I’ll need your cooperation as much as possible, Officer Johnson demanded in a soft authoritative voice.

"We’ll need