How to Link Cold Cases to Aging Serial Killers

Rees in prison

Source: K. Ramsland

On a recent 20/20 episode that covered “Dating Game Killer” Rodney Alcala, the final segment features a team of investigators who hoped to get him to talk about a cold case in Wyoming. One of Alcala’s collection of photos featured 28-year-old Christine Ruth Thornton, who’d disappeared in 1977. Her skeletal remains, along with those of an unborn child, turned up in Sweetwater County in 1982. DNA from relatives identified her in 2015.

Detectives knew Alcala had crossed the country around the time she’d vanished, and they hoped to persuade him to admit his role in her murder. He was famous for his legal maneuvers in attempting to resist culpability and to appeal all decisions. He’d represented himself in court, ultimately losing. Since Alcala was now in his 70s and growing ill, they thought he might be in a more helpful frame of mind.

As the investigators entered his cell at Corcoran State Penitentiary, they found him frail, bedridden, and suffering from dementia, his famous gray locks cut short. They approached Alcala’s bed and showed him a photo of the windswept plains where the remains were discovered. “It’s part of my area,” he said. Then they showed him Christine’s photo. He ran his finger along the outline of her form as if claiming her and relishing the memory of what he’d done. He admitted he knew her.

They asked if he’d killed her. “Are you crazy?” he responded. As they tried over the course of two uncomfortable hours to get him to confess, he admitted nothing. If the televised reenactment is accurate, the questioning was formal, curt, and impatient, with no incentive for assisting. Nothing had changed for Alcala, despite his assortment of convictions. Nevertheless, the investigators had enough circumstantial evidence to charge him with first-degree murder. When they looked into moving him to Wyoming for trial, they learned that his condition would make this process an expensive venture.

Sometimes, They Talk

Similarly, a reporter once interviewed Melvin Rees, Jr., a 1950s-era serial killer, to try to get him to confess some 30 years later to murders in which he was the chief suspect. He’d been convicted of the slaughter of Carroll Jackson, his wife, and his two young daughters in 1959 and the murder of Margaret Harold in 1957. Since he’d never admitted to the crimes, questions remained about these incidents and about four unsolved murders of young girls that seemed linked to him.

Rees had deteriorated mentally. He’d been reading Dostoevsky's novel, The Brothers Karamazov, and claimed to have found God. In 1966, he told a judge he no longer wanted to appeal the death sentence he’d received in Virginia; he’d leave it all in the hands of Jesus Christ. His attorney found him impossible to talk to in a rational manner.

Alternating between laughter and sobbing, he seemingly did not care whether he lived or died. Examining psychiatrists thought he was delusional and not competent to make legal decisions. As he stood in court, barefoot, bearded, and disheveled, his wild eyes stared vacantly. He attempted several times to remove his clothes. Rees ended up in the U.S. Medical Center for Federal Prisoners in Springfield, Missouri.

In 1985 when Rees was 56, reporter Bill McKelway for the Richmond Times-Dispatch visited him. During the interview, Rees often just stared out the window. McKelway tolerated the silences. He described Rees as “haggard," noting his long unkempt hair and a tangled beard that hit his belt. He’d lost half of his teeth. Yet, unlike Alcala, he did start talking.

For the first time, Rees admitted to killing Margaret Harold and the Jackson family. He also took the blame for the 1956 murders of Mary Elizabeth Fellers and Shelby Venables. He blamed his use of drugs, particularly methamphetamine. However, he would not admit to any involvement with the unsolved shooting murders of Nancy Shomette and Mickey Ryan. When McKelway asked if the crimes weighed on his conscience, Rees said he’d been forgiven. It was in the hands of a higher authority. McKelway seemed to have approached Rees at the right time to acquire cold case information, resolving at least two incidents.

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Respect and Affirmation

Another elderly serial killer was even more forthcoming, despite initial resistance. On September 5, 2012, California authorities charged Sam Little with three murders. He insisted he was innocent. Yet his MO made him a suspect in dozens of other murders. ViCAP agents at the FBI issued a national alert to agencies around the country, urging them to check their unsolved strangulation murders against what was known about this offender’s travels.

But Little wasn’t talking. With the DNA results and the testimony of two assault survivors, in 2014 Little was convicted of the three LA homicides. He ranted against the LAPD and refused to tell them anything about other crimes. His health was poor and investigators worried that he might die before they could get a full account.

Then James Holland, a Texas Ranger with a talent for interviewing and a passion for solving cold cases, heard about Little. In 2017, he went to visit the convicted offender. It didn’t go well, but Holland was patient. He brought Little some items he’d enjoy: pizza, soda, M&Ms, and milkshakes. He indulged the killer’s rants against the LAPD and let him chat about insignificant things.

Keeping his focus on what mattered — the victims — Holland told Little he was smart, talented, and important. He asked him to describe the places where he’d traveled, and complimented his artwork. These baiting tactics worked. Little mentioned Odessa, where one of the unsolved murders occurred. Holland recognized the breadcrumb. Little even said, “Hookers is all you’re gonna find.”

Holland transferred Little temporarily to a facility in Texas so he could interview him daily. He always brought treats and showed respect. Over the course of 700 hours, Holland learned about 65 murders in 19 states. Now that Little faced his own mortality as he neared 80, he admitted he wanted to get it all out. He also hoped to exonerate anyone who’d been convicted of one of his crimes. Eventually, he claimed around 93 victims, and the FBI has corroborated just over half that number. Little died in December 2020. Holland’s approach helped to solve numerous cold cases.

Aging freelance photographer Joseph Naso apparently doesn’t share the same sentiments. Arrested in 2010 in Nevada when he was 76, police found sexually graphic photographs and a handwritten diary in his home that described 10 unnamed women, with geographical tags that matched some unsolved murder incidents. DNA linked him to two. He was charged, convicted, and sentenced to death for six. Still alive at age 87, he remains silent on the identities of the other four women described in the diary. There still might be a way to get them.

Let's Maximize What Works

It’s common to think that as death approaches during old age, people who’ve done bad things wish to clear their conscience. This seemed true for Little, once he started talking, but not yet for Alcala or Naso. Rees had already made his spiritual peace, so his admissions were an afterthought. (The two murders to which he would not confess were seemingly solved with someone else’s deathbed confession.)

It’s difficult to tell what might elicit a confession from a given person, but the patient, ego-massaging approach to Sam Little did gain much more from the anti-police offender than what law enforcement would typically do. Similar to recent “warm” approaches to interrogation for current crimes, such as using comfortable rooms and a respectful manner, it might be more productive for cold cases to approach aging suspects with a softer style. This sample size is too small to make any claims, but there’s potentially more to gain than lose. We should look at more cases and crystalize the approach that works best.