A Rage To Kill And Other True Cases

man park his motor home under the freeway where they “wouldn’t be disturbed.” When they were settled, Jackie poured himself a drink and suggested that the man take a shower to freshen up. He pretended to be looking in the other direction when his customer placed his wallet under a seat cushion, but he could see everything beneath his lowered false eyelashes.
    An embarrassed “John” went to the police. “I hired this girl for, ahh—certain sexual privileges. I was washing up, and I heard the door slam,” he said. “When I looked, that girl—Jackie—was gone, along with $200 in cash, and a check for $783.49.”
    Jackie was arrested and convicted—and sentenced to three years’ probation. He was not the “ideal probationer,” according to his probation officer. He failed to report time and again, and bench warrants were issued. He forged his sister’s name on her income tax refund check, cashed it, and kept the money. On July 21, 1975, his probation was revoked and he was given a suspended sentence of fifteen years on the condition that he serve three months in the King County Jail.

    Twenty-one-year-old Brad Lee Bass was completely masculine. Born in the mid-fifties to a California family, he, too, had once been a sensitive child as Jackie Emerson was described, but Brad’s sensitivity was about the feelings of other people and not directed toward his own desires. Brad never forgot a birthday or a holiday that meant something to someone else, and he always showed up with a card or a present on time, even if he had to walk miles to deliver it in person. He dragged home stray cats and dogs, grinning and saying, “Look what I found.” But Brad was also the kind of kid who played all-star Little League baseball and junior high basketball.
    Brad had a brother, Dalton*, who was a year older than he and an avid scholar, but he himself was a somewhat lackadaisical student. He loved to read, however, and would spend hours with a book—but you couldn’t
tell
him to do it. He tired of the restrictions of organized education after his junior year in high school and dropped out.
    When his parents divorced in 1966, Brad Bass’s father had gained custody of his sons and took over their care, settling with them in California. Neither of them gave him any trouble, particularly not Brad. Within a year or so, Brad Bass grew to be a muscular six feet, three inches and 195 pounds.
    Disappointed when Brad dropped out of high school, his dad was pleased and relieved when Brad immediately enrolled in evening classes in a junior college. Brad received his high school degree there, and went on to a four-year college. But he didn’t graduate, the way his brother Dalton had. His interests lay elsewhere.
    Brad had always been fascinated with the intricacies of mechanics, and he bought himself a 1957 Chevrolet pickup truck in a sad state of repair. The teenager didn’t know anything about machines but he read manuals, talked to mechanics, and, all on his own, he replaced the engine, overhauled the transmission, clutch, differential and brakes. When that was finished, he reupholstered the interior and finally painted the whole truck, making it a work of art.
    At twenty, Brad Bass was a powerful man who swam, jogged, and lifted weights. In 1975, he moved to Renton, Washington, from his father’s home in California, and he and Dalton shared an apartment. Brad found work as an apprentice shipfitter, and he and his brother returned to their lifetime relationship as best friends. It happens that way with brothers sometimes, and theirs became an incredibly strong bond.
    They weren’t alike, except for their common background. While Dalton Bass was completely comfortable in social situations and dated frequently, Brad was still shy around women. He was ill at ease socially. He was a loner and an observer, but not a joiner. He had a low-key sense of humor and, when he felt comfortable, he could be hilarious. He had lots of friends at work.
    By the mid-seventies, Brad Bass had become a very handsome man, tall and muscular. He had recently grown a mustache which suited him, but he remained reluctant to approach women.
    He explained to Dalton that he couldn’t bring himself to go up to girls on beaches or in taverns and just ask them out. He froze at the thought of it. Ironically, there were undoubtedly a hundred girls in the Seattle area who would have been delighted to date the good-looking shipfitter, but he lacked the courage