Devil's Heart: Native American Lore and Modern Police Work

By Ron Walden

Jodi Eagle knew at an early age that he was going to leave the reservation. Being raised by his grandfather, Jodi had learned the ways of his Sioux heritage, but reservation life was not for him. He had seen too many friends come to a bad end. With help from friends he had made along the way Jodi became a Deputy Sheriff at North Bend, Washington where a killer was kidnapping and killing children.Local parents were terrified for their children. One of the victims was the son of Jodi's friend Earl Campbell. Jodi's own son was a school mate and friend of the murdered child. Jodi tried to help control his own son's grief with stories and customs of his Native American heritage. After eight years fingerprint evidence gathered at one of the crime scenes is matched with a body found near Anchorage, Alaska. This would solve the child murders, but opened a new question; Who killed the killer. The effect of this turmoil on residents of the small western Washington town was great and the wounds deep. His department would find closure to this eight year search with the implication of a one-time deputy. With enough twists to keep the reader engrossed and turning the pages and enough surprises to bend the mind.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Publication Consultants
• Release date: Jun 15, 2009
• ISBN: 9781594331497

Ron Walden

Born and raised in northern Idaho, Ron Walden held many jobs: miner, salesman, carpenter, and business owner. Ron relocated with his wife to Alaska where he built a home and learned to fly. Ron retired from the Alaska Department of Corrections and did a short tour as a security guard on the Alyeska Pipeline. Walden now spends his free time fishing and building furniture for friends. If you ask Ron, he is quick to say, “Alaska has been my home for forty years, I never tire of its beauty.”

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CHAPTER 1

Only a few puffy white clouds were visible above the mountaintops, though the man on the radio had predicted rain. When rain came, in western Washington in mid-July, it usually meant light showers, and those came only here, at the base of the mountains.

Sheriff’s Deputy Jodi Eagle had received the message when he reported into the office. Miss Emma, the secretary, had told him of a reported body, no other details. A Department of Highways foreman was on the scene with further information. The site was a few miles east of North Bend at exit 38. Jodi knew the area well; it was in his assigned patrol area, on U. S. Interstate 90 at the foot of Snoqualmie Pass.

Blue and gold stripes and red and blue lights buried in the grille, along with those in the rear window, identified the white Chevrolet as belonging to a King County Police official. Traffic was light this morning with only an occasional truck moving east over the pass. With three lanes going east and three lanes west and the lanes divided by a large median and in some places a huge vertical separation, there was no need for the siren.

Jodi saw the Department of Highways pickup parked on the side of the road as he turned down the ramp at Exit 38. Lenny Packwood stepped from the truck as Jodi pulled to a stop.

What ya got, Lenny?

I didn’t want to put any information on the open Highways channel, Jodi. His voice was weak, his shoulders sagged and his weathered face showed deep furrows from his obvious stress. It’s another kid. His eyebrows rose nearly to his hairline when he spoke, but from the sadness in his eyes you could see just how deeply he felt this. He’s down the old highway about a mile; in the rocks above the bridge. I didn’t touch anything, except to climb up there and check to see if he was alive. Tears were in his eyes now. God, Jodi. I’ve never seen a dead child like this. I’m sorry.

I understand, Lenny. Come on, let’s take a look. Jodi pointed down the road.

With the road foreman’s truck in the lead they drove to the site. The foliage here in this deep canyon was lush and green. Because of the dense growth, visibility was limited to the road and the creek bed. A short, moss-covered concrete bridge spanned the small stream. The slope of the hill made it more a waterfall than a stream. Jodi noticed an old cedar stump with spring board notches. Loggers had cut the tree in the early 1900s. A green cedar tree with a base nearly as large as the old stump grew out of the old stump. Life resurrected, Jodi thought to himself.

Jodi walked to the orange pickup, and Lenny rolled down the window. Wait here until I get back. I have to check. I’ll be only a couple of minutes.

This was the third one in five weeks. As he walked to the guardrail he could see faint tire tracks and some scuff marks on the ground. He deliberately walked a wide path around the marks before stepping over the steel railing. The boulders, used to protect the creek bank, were large but about the right size to easily step from one to the next. He could see the body lying face down on a large, flat rock. The clothing was neatly folded and placed on the rock by the left arm of the victim. It was pointless, but he felt for a pulse … there was none. He could feel Lenny’s sadness as he turned to climb down to the old U. S. Highway 10.

Jodi walked slowly back to his car, attempting to compose himself before using the radio.

Dispatch, C-1.

Go ahead C-1.

Call the sheriff and tell him I need the Major Crimes Unit immediately. And see if you can locate C-11. Tell him to get up here NOW. I confirm we have a 10-79.

Ten-four, C-1. Do you request any other assistance at this time?

No, but get those people moving. I want to do this before we get a crowd.

Lenny. Jodi called to get the highway foreman’s attention.

Yeah. What do you need?

I’ll park my car across the road to block traffic. Would you go back and barricade the other end for me? He asked. Let’s try to keep people out of here.

Sure thing. I’ll be back in a few minutes.

After blocking the road, the deputy opened the trunk of his patrol car and removed a stack of red traffic cones. He walked back to where he had seen the scuff marks in the dirt and placed the cones in a semi-circle around the spot to prevent anyone from inadvertently walking through the area. He could have begun the gathering of evidence, but opted to wait for the Major Crimes Unit; a large motor home style vehicle with a built-in forensics laboratory.

The deputy was still having trouble controlling his emotions when the Highways pickup returned. He tossed his notebook on the hood of the orange truck. A hell of a way to start a day, he said.

Both the last two kids we found were classmates of my own kids. Did you recognize this one, Lenny?

No, but I don’t have any kids in school anymore so I don’t know many youngsters this age. He took a deep breath and let out a long sigh. What kind of person could hurt little kids like that? I hope when you catch this guy, you hurt him real bad before you hang him. Do you have any idea who he might be?

Don’t tell anyone I said this, but we don’t have squat for evidence. The other scenes looked just like this one, just some smudges for tire tracks, and footprints only good enough to get an approximate shoe size. We don’t have a tire tread mark or a shoe print good enough to take a cast from. The only positive thing we have is a witness who saw a Toyota pickup driving away from where the first body was found. We don’t have anything to connect the truck with the killing, but the driver may have seen something. Like I said, we don’t have much to go on.

Lenny still had the sad look on his face. The clouds are building up, it’s probably going to rain this afternoon. Do you think you’ll be done before it rains?

Once the Major Crimes guys get here it won’t take long. The coroner should be here about the same time, and unless things are different here from the last two, we should finish in less than an hour. Jodi opened his trunk lid again, took out a 35mm Minolta camera. Listen for my radio, will you Lenny? I have to get some pictures before the area gets changed.

Sure thing. I have a thermos of black coffee. When you’re done we’ll have a cup.

It took quite some time to take all the pictures and record each one in his notebook. He had taken almost a hundred photos. There would be other pictures, as well as videotapes, of the scene when the others arrived. But for now he wanted a record of the scene before anyone else arrived.

This piece of old Highway 10 was between two freeway exits, both marked Exit 38. The scene was out of view of the freeway, which made traffic control almost unnecessary. Spectators were always a problem at these scenes. It also meant it was unlikely there would be any witnesses. The deputy made a note to check the State Fire Training Academy on the other side of the freeway. Someone might have seen something.

Jodi had just dropped the camera case back into his trunk and closed the lid when his partner, Brice Roman, turned off the Interstate and edged his car past the nose of the white Chevy blocking the road.

Jodi respected Brice’s ability. Brice had his faults, but he was a good cop. He was aggressive, with incredible natural instincts.

The Major Crimes Unit will be here in about ten minutes. They were in Bellevue this morning when you called. The coroner will be a little longer. Brice reported as he stepped from his own vehicle. Have you looked at the body? Is it the same as the others?

Looks like it, but I didn’t want to move anything. We have some possible footprints and tire tracks, but they look like the others, too faint for casts. I coned that area off just in case. Do we have any missing kids in town?

Yeah, we do. That’s why I asked if this looked the same. The missing kid is a girl this time, and older. Brice ran his fingers through his blonde hair and opened his notebook. The missing girl is almost fifteen years old, but she is small and has short black hair. When she left the house she was wearing a plaid cotton shirt and blue jeans with white tennis shoes and white socks. Another thing different this time is that she came up missing last evening. She was going to stay with a girlfriend but never got to the girlfriend’s house. The parents didn’t know she was missing until this morning. The girlfriend called to see why she hadn’t spent the night. The missing girl’s name is Shirley Ng; her folks are Vietnamese. The father is a computer whiz for Boeing.

You’ve been busy this morning.

Brice couldn’t bring himself to admit the information had been handed to him when he got to the office. Instead he said, A good officer does his groundwork. Then added, One other thing though, Jodi. This family lives only three blocks from your place. We have to catch this guy. He’s getting too close to home.

Neither Lenny nor I turned the body over. I didn’t know it was a girl. If she was dressed like you say, then it’s possible that whoever picked her up didn’t know it either. What kind of a sick damn world are we living in? Jodi wondered if his own children knew this latest victim. In a community this small it seemed all the children of the same approximate age were acquainted.

The sky above the narrow canyon was becoming more threatening. The Major Crimes Unit approached slowly down the old highway. The driver gave a gentle tap on the air horn and waved to the two sheriff’s deputies as they turned to see who was arriving. Both deputies waved in recognition as the 36-foot-long, blue and white mobile crime lab stopped on the shoulder of the old road. The side door opened and a deputy, dressed in black coveralls, stepped from the van carrying a roll of yellow plastic ribbon printed with the continuing message, POLICE—DO NOT CROSS. While he marked off the area most likely to contain evidence, three other officers emerged from the van carrying an assortment of cameras, notebooks, paper and plastic bags. They began the job of gathering the evidence that, each hoped, would catch and convict the person responsible for this crime. Every man on this team had seen hundreds of crime scenes and dozens of bodies, but each one had to stop and regain control of his emotions as he viewed the tiny, frail nude body on the rocks above. When the victims were children it was difficult to maintain one’s objectivity--it became personal.

CHAPTER 2

Deputy Jodi Eagle was looking at his watch and writing the time in his notebook as the leader of the lab team approached. They had worked together many times, but this was the third time in just over a month the two had met at a crime scene like this one.

Team leader Lewis Cornetti looked like the class nerd. He was skinny, wore wire rim glasses and met you with a lopsided smile on his pockmarked face. In spite of all that he was instantly likable with the strangest sense of humor on record. His usual jokes were absent now and he was all business.

Hi, Jodi. Do you have anything?

Sorry, Lew. It looks about like the other two. I coned off the spot where I thought the vehicle was parked. I saw some scuff marks there, he pointed, where he might have taken the body out of the back of the truck. They’re pretty faint though. When I was taking pictures I saw a spot behind that guardrail, again he indicated the place he meant, where he might have slipped on the loose gravel. It could have been going in or coming back, but it’s close to the steel railing. He may have grabbed it to balance himself.

We’ll check it out. Anything else?

I’m going to wait around for a while. I would appreciate it if you could deal with the body as quickly as possible. We haven’t determined the sex of this victim yet and we have a missing girl in town. I need to know if this could be her so we can talk to the parents.

"Sure thing, Jodi. I’ll get the crew on it right away and I’ll personally check out those marks by the guardrail.

Deputy Eagle stepped to the passenger side of the Department of Highways truck. He looked at his watch. The coroner should be here in about twenty minutes, he thought as he parked himself in the seat next to Lenny.

I’ll take that cup of coffee now.

As he silently drank the coffee, he thought how different this part of the country was from the Fort Totten Indian Reservation where he was born and spent his young life. His earliest recollection was of the day when, he must have been about four years old, his grandfather took him for the first time to the top of the Devil’s Heart.

You must come here often, his grandfather had said, to pray to each of the four winds. To ask the Great Wakan to make you strong and wise. What he had not said was that this was the highest point on the reservation, and by coming here and studying each of the four directions he would never lose his way while traveling anywhere on the reservation. Over the years he had climbed to the top of that butte many times to speak with the Great Wakan.

He was brought back by Lewis Cornetti’s voice. I don’t know if it’s good news or bad, but the body is female and oriental. Looks to be strangled like the others. The clothing was folded neatly, just like the others. I’d say it was the same guy. I have some good news, though. That spot on the guardrail does have a print. I haven’t lifted it yet, but we can see four fingers, the thumb, and a partial palm, left hand.

He turned to the highway foreman, Hello, I’m Lewis Cornetti. I’d like to remove that piece of guardrail, if that’s possible.

I guess I can do that if you think you need it. I have the tools in the back of my truck. Lenny reached into his pocket for the key to the toolbox as he stepped from the truck.

I’ll have a couple of my men give you a hand. We need to get this rail inside before it rains. It’s going to take some time to lift the prints from it. We can do it later if we can put it inside out of the rain.

Brice walked back from the crime scene van to meet Jodi at his patrol car. I just had a look at the clothing. They match the description of those worn by the Ng girl.

Traffic was picking up on the Interstate now. A blue station wagon with small white lettering on the door which read King County Coroner, slowed and eased up to the area as Jodi moved his car to allow him through.

I’m going into town. I’ll stop at the office, then go to the Ng home, Jodi told Brice, speaking through the open window of his car. You stay here until everyone is clear. Have Lenny stop by the office and give us a written statement. I’ll see you at the office this afternoon.

See you at the office. I hope we can finish early today. The Mariners are playing at home and I have tickets.

Jodi could only shake his head as he drove away. I wonder if the Mariners have cheerleaders. If they do, he probably has a date with one of them. He had to drive a mile east before he could cross to the westbound lane.

The North Bend city police department had been disbanded in 1973. Since that time the duties of enforcing the law had been left to the King County Sheriff’s Department. The office had once belonged to the North Bend Police. Jodi occupied a small office a few doors down the hall from the administrative office of Sergeant Pete Kaufman.

Jodi was checking the file for the address of the Ng family when Pete stepped into his office carrying a handful of daily reports. Have you seen the missing person report on the Ng girl?

Not yet. I just got in from the scene. I’m sure she’s our victim. The scene was just like the others, looks like the same guy. I was just going to the girl’s house to talk with the parents. I would guess the father is at work, I’ll call and let you know. If he is, would you call downtown and have someone go out to Boeing and contact the father? It would probably be a good idea to have a deputy drive him home.

Good idea. You’ve sure had your share of these notifications lately. Want me to send someone else to do this?

Thanks, Pete. Jodi said in a tired voice. I can handle it. I have to talk to the parents sometime. They may as well meet me now. I would like to take Connie with me if you don’t mind. This is going to be emotional, and it might be a good thing to have a female officer there.

This is number three, and all kids. The news media are going to start calling them serial killings. We need to nail this guy, and quick. The town is already in a panic over the dead kids and they don’t even have the news about this one yet. I can handle the media. I want you to know that any resource we have is at your disposal. I’ve talked with the sheriff. He has given you the green light to use whatever you need. If you want additional personnel, he will assign some people from downtown. He just wants this cleaned up before we have any more missing kids.

I appreciate that Pete. The truth is we just don’t have evidence or leads to warrant sending out any more people. I may change my mind when Cornetti finishes today, but the way it stands now it would be a waste of manpower. I have Brice and if you let me use Connie I think we can cover it for now.

Okay, just don’t let anything get ahead of you. I’ll assign Connie to you temporarily. He shuffled through the stack of papers in his left hand, pulled out a manila folder and laid it on Jodi’s desk. Here’s the report on the missing Ng girl. I’ll have a deputy from Renton notify the father and drive him home. Keep me informed. He turned to walk away, then turned back into the small office again. Keep Brice away from the news people. Tell him I want all, and I do mean all, media coverage to go directly through my office. No impromptu news conferences. Got it?

Got it, boss.

It had been only a few minutes but it seemed like an hour since the sergeant had dropped the missing person report on his desk. Jodi was certain the victim was the missing Ng girl. Connie Lupine was standing in the office doorway when he looked up from his notebook. She said nothing. Pete had given her a short briefing. Deputy Connie lupine was a five-year veteran with the department. She had a reputation for no-nonsense police work. Jodi had asked for her because she was good with people.

You ready? Jodi asked.

I think so. You can fill me in on the latest on the way.

It was less than five minutes to the Ng home. Not a large house, but well kept. An older, bungalow style home on a north/south avenue. The street was lined with large locust trees. Lilac bushes stood at either corner of the front porch. This time of year there were no blossoms on them. As a young man, John Ng had emigrated from Vietnam with his family. The family had settled in southern California. John’s father had become a farm laborer and his mother a school custodian. They managed to save enough to send their son to UCLA where he graduated with a Master’s Degree in design engineering. He had met his wife, Ruth, when he first went to work for Boeing. She, too, was Vietnamese. When Ruth became pregnant with Shirley they decided to move out of the urban area to a place with a safer atmosphere in which to raise a child.

Jodi parked his car at the curb, under the huge locust tree directly in front of the Ng house. I live two blocks up and one block left. He told Deputy Lupine as they stood on the sidewalk. He saw an occasional raindrop making its mark on the dry street as they stepped over the curb and began the sad walk to the neatly painted white house with the green trim. A wooden bench on the front porch held a pair of white tennis shoes and a class sweater; the date on the sleeve identified it as the property of one of this year’s freshman class. Jodi took a deep breath, nodded to Connie, then tapped gently on the door.

Ruth Ng stood barely five feet tall and, Jodi guessed, weighed less than ninety pounds. She was a beautiful woman, but the strain of her missing daughter made her appear frail and weak. She stiffened when she saw the two deputies standing at her door. Though she presented a picture of composure, her red eyes told of her emotional stress.

May we come in, Mrs. Ng? Jodi asked.

The deputies had been with Ruth Ng for nearly an hour when the sheriff’s car brought John Ng to the house. Mrs. Ng met her husband at the door, crying uncontrollably. Connie Lupine had attempted in vain to console the distraught mother but it was impossible. The father had many questions which the deputy tried to answer as completely as possible without adding to the trauma they had already suffered. The Ng’s had seen much death in their lifetime, but they had not expected it to come to their own child here in America.

Connie Lupine had gone next door to ask Mary Lafferty to come sit with the grieving parents. When she arrived the two deputies excused themselves and returned to the office.

CHAPTER 3

Melvin Eagle, Jodi’s father, had been a troubled young man. He drank as much beer as he could buy. Melvin’s father used to say that he nurtured the bad seed inside him with his drinking. Everyone has bad seeds within them, Jodi’s grandfather had said, If you feed it with evil it will eventually consume your spirit. The Wakan gave us choices, not responsibilities. Each man must choose his own future and care for his own spirit.

Melvin had met Heather, Jodi’s mother, when they were just children. Their families lived on adjoining parcels of land east of Fort Totten. They had grown up together and both attended the mission school at the Fort. The army had long since left and the Catholic Church used the buildings for a mission and school. The two had married soon after graduating from high school. Melvin went to work for his father farming on tribal land. They grew wheat, corn and oats. They also had a few cows and several horses.

Melvin was never happy as a farmer and rancher. He wanted more from his life. He drank more and worked less. His father complained, but Melvin wouldn’t listen. He settled down for a few months after Jodi was born, but soon went back to his old ways. He began to stay away from home more and more. When Jodi was three years old, his father took a job as a long-haul truck driver. After that Jodi only saw him about once a year and later not at all. From the time Jodi was four years old, the only male guidance he had had came from his grandfather, who tried to teach him the life values of the Native American Dakota culture. His grandfather had repeatedly warned him of the dangers of feeding his bad seed. He had also taught him other values. Always be honest, he had said, but be careful not to hurt others with your honesty. Jodi had found this to be a difficult lesson.

There were many lessons to be learned over the next several years. The most difficult was the lesson of loss. Heather Eagle died at the age of twenty-eight, of a broken heart, her father-in-law had said. Jodi was nine at the time. His grandfather’s house was filled with relatives and friends. There was crying and laughter and stories and, for Jodi, confusion. He left the house and walked to the top of the Devil’s Heart to talk with the Wakan.

You’re awfully quiet, Jodi.

The patrol car had just turned onto North Bend Way. The lunch crowd had left the Mar T Cafe more than an hour ago. Just thinking, Jodi said, How would you like a cup of coffee before we go back to the office?

I’d like that, but I have to warn you, I don’t like Espresso.

That makes two of us, Jodi commented as he parked the car on the nearly vacant main street. The rain had stopped and the clouds were dissipating. Up the canyon, toward Snoqualmie Pass, he could see a perfect rainbow. The Wakan has come for the child, he reflected. The television series Twin Peaks had made the Mar T Cafe famous for its pie. Looking from the front window of the cafe he was able to see the mountain, Mount Si, for which the television show had been named. Jodi sat in the booth looking through the front window. He loved that old mountain. It wasn’t the Devil’s heart, but he thought the Great Wakan would like it too.

Ester Parks brought coffee for the two deputies, good coffee, not Espresso. I think this killing was done by the same guy who did the other two, Jodi told Connie between sips of hot coffee. We can’t be sure, but there’s a good chance this is a pedophile or a homosexual and he’s abducting and killing little boys. I think he made a mistake with this one. I saw the body and, until Brice told me it was a girl, I thought it was a boy about ten years old. She was built small, short and had short dark hair combed straight back. What I can’t figure though, is why. Why is he operating here in North Bend? All three victims were picked up within three blocks of the elementary school. Two of them were students there. Each one was alone on the street, as near as we can determine. I’ve talked with the parents of each of these kids and they all say their kid knew better than to get into a car with a stranger. He gave a long sigh, It just doesn’t make sense. The risk of discovery would be a lot less in the more populated areas of Seattle or Bellevue. The only reason I can think of is he lives here, but I can’t think of anyone who fits the profile. We have to get him before he hurts another little kid.

It’s getting personal with you, isn’t it? Connie asked. "The sergeant assigned me to you temporarily, but I would like to stay on this with you until it’s finished. That’s if you don’t mind. It would give me a chance to learn something about