After parting ways with my father on our two car road trip in Colorado, I headed North, driving non-stop through Denver then into Wyoming. I didn't stop until I had reached Casper, where I found a public library so I could check the Web for news about the boy (Anthony) I had kidnapped, raped, and murdered in Southern California in early April, several weeks before. I just wanted to make sure I wasn't a named suspect. I wasn't. Then I gassed up --- I spent the night in a mostly empty park near Casper, sleeping in the car, the same car I had used to kidnap Anthony in plain sight of numerous witnesses, mostly children though --- and continued on my trek North for the border. I had told my father I planned to get a new identity in Canada, then find a job and live my life in peace there.
I left the freeway after Missoula and continued North on a State highway that connected several small towns like pearls on a string all the way to a remote border station Northwestern Montana. A state trooper flashed its light and siren behind me at one point, which made me think I was busted. But, when I obediently slowed and pulled to the side of the road he just sped past me, apparently on his way to some other emergency.
At the border I told the Canadian border guard that I was sight-seeing on my way to Seattle. I did not expect any more problem getting into Canada than I had driving into Mexico several months before. But the border guard got suspicious and told me to pull into the inspection station.
For the second time that day I though I was busted. When they searched the car they found several IDs that belonged to other people, camping gear, extra food and clothes that made it obvious I was living in the car, and a book on how to create a false identity in Canada. On top of all that I had given them my real name and driver's license, and the car wasn't registered in my name. (It belonged to a friend of mine who lived in Seattle.)
Obviously they weren't going to let me enter Canada. So after enough time waiting for them to contact the U.S. authorities, on the other side of this border crossing, they showed me what they found in my car, returned it to me (technically, nothing was illegal), then told me I was denied entry an let me return to the U.S..
Of course, the U.S. border guard was waiting for me. He came out of his booth, and seemed about to tell me something, but then the phone rang in his booth and he returned there to answer. After a brief conversation he steppe back out of the booth only to wave me on my way. No questions, no inspection, just, "go!"
So, I went. Fast! As soon as I was out of sight of the border station I floored it. I figured that the border station ha called the police in the nearest town, which was about nine or ten miles from the border crossing, with no turn offs. So the town had to be a trap. Maybe if I got there fast enough, I could take them by surprise, instead of the other way around. So, I drove at over a hundred (MPH) until I reached the first turn off the outskirts of town. The turn off was just one block before the only signal light, which I could see was red, and waiting for me. There was no other road through town, but the turn off gave me access to an alley that ran behind the houses on the main street.
I followed the alley at a crawl until I reached the cross street for the traffic signal. There was no traffic, but I reasoned that if there were a trap, it would be at either the entrance, the light, or the exit to the town. I already skirted the entrance, so now I drove across the road and into another alley, this time running behind a handful of stores that lined main-street. And sure enough, as I drove through the alley I spotted a solitary police cruiser parked between two of the buildings, facing the main intersection, no doubt waiting for me.
I just kept driving slowly right behind the cruiser, literally less than 50 feet away. He didn't see me. Then I came out at the end of the alley into the town's one and only gas station, which sat right at the edge of town. Because a curve in the road at this juncture, I was able to continue out of town without being seen, by simply driving through the gas station, past the pumps, and then out onto the highway headed South again into the forests.
But now it would be another 20 miles or so until the next town, again with no turn offs, and this time the town was much larger with presumable many more police waiting for me. There seemed no escape. Then worse, I spotted an official Forest Service vehicle apparently coming from the Forest Service Station a few miles South of town on the same road. I watched the driver as she passed, and noticed it was indeed a Forest Service Ranger, mot likely on her way to provide backup for the sole police officer in town, still waiting to make a felony fugitive arrest at the red light.
The Ranger seemed preoccupied with her thoughts as we drove past each other on the highway. But then, at the last moment as our vehicles passed, I saw her do a double take and look right at me, and her jaw dropped. I guessed that she had already been informed of the "suspect and vehicle description", so when she saw me she realized I must have slipped past the trap.
That meant I had only seconds to make my escape good. So, I sped up again, then pulled off the road into the first clearing I came to, and headed for the trees, which happened to line the ridge o a small hill that the car ('87 Cadillac New Yorker) could climb easily enough, even off road through wild grass. I almost didn't slow down when I reached the ridge, but at the last moment I decided it probably wasn't a good idea to go flying over a ridge not knowing what lay on the other side. And that caution saved my life, because there was nothing on the other side but air!
It was a sheer cliff carved out of the hill for a railroad pass. it was a good thing I slowed to look first. I had to back the car back down the hill, and with nowhere else to hide, I got back on the road and sped South again.
Luckily I came to a dirt road turn off with a sign that read, "Public Picnic Area". I slowed and took the turn being careful not to stir up too much dust or leave any skid marks at the entrance. I hoped that with only one car in pursuit I'd have a little time to find some concealment before they could check the side roads like this one.
The dirt road continued for about a half mile until it came to a clearing in the trees by a lake, but I pulled off the dirt road and behind some trees before that. I had only managed to drive the car off road and about 60 feet into the forest. But, the cover was good, and after using a hatchet to make even more cover, and then using dark colored clothes, a sleeping bag, and anything else I could find to cover the white paint on the car, I was sure I was "invisible". So I waited.
After about an hour I heard a small helicopter in the distance, but I ha anticipate that also (I could not be seen from the road or the sky). I heard the chopper pass nearby. It sounded like it was following the highway, once in each direction. Then that was all.
No cars at all came down the dirt road, so after it started getting dark I walked out to the highway and deliberately let myself be seen by a few passing cars. I reasoned that if there was a roadblock then the drivers would probably report seeing me on foot and they'd send a car to look for me. So I scurried up a forested hill on the other side of the highway, and watched the traffic from a safe position. I saw no police or forest service vehicles go by. I reasoned that they must not be looking for me very hard. That didn't mean they wouldn't have another trap waiting at the next town. So I needed to find some other way out of the area, and out of Montana altogether if possible.
I returned to the car and pulled out my maps. One of the maps showed a single line (undeveloped road) that left the small one cap town North of me (where I had eluded the trap before). The line on the map meandered through nothingness (forest) for about 40 miles until it joined up with another highway heading West from the larger town down South where I was sure they'd be waiting for me. I decided the obscure line was my best, if not only, option.
I waited until near midnight before I uncovered the car and returned to the road. I drove cautiously with lights off back North, and found the turn off across from the gas station at the edge of town. I was never certain if I was on the right road or not. It ended up being a graveled road at least. But there were several turn off and intersections that my map didn't show. So I took a compass bearing and used the moon to help decide my way (keeping it in sight and to my right as much as I could).
After what seemed like several hours I came out onto a paved highway running East and West, perfect! I headed West, and came to an all-night gas station at the edge of a mid-sized town. There was a cop car parked near the gas station and facing the road I had just drove in on. But I didn't see the cop car until after I had already pulled into the station for much needed gas. I controlled the impulse to continue driving, and hope I'd be less suspicious if I just stopped for gas right in front of the cop. This must have worked, since I was able to gas up, buy some food, and even another map, before continuing on my way unmolested by the police.
I drove off aways and safely out of town before I stopped to check the new map. As it turned out I was already in Idaho! An not far from the interstate (I-90). I drove on into Coeur d'Alene, the same Coeur d'Alene, Idaho, where I was fated to be arrested eight years later, for the crimes I'm on death row for now. But this time I just drove past the city and stopped at a large rest area near the Washington/Idaho state border, where I parked and slept, relatively safe and sound.
The next day I drove into Spokane, Washington, and called Dee, the owner of the car I was driving, and asked her if she could drive my car (an '87 Buick Skylark) which I'd left in Seattle with her, across the state and meet me in Spokane to swap cars, which she agreed to do. I met her at the bus station in Spokane, then we drove to a cheap motel and spent the night together.
The next day, after transferring all my stuff over to my own car, which was now less "hot" than Dee's car after the incident at the Border, we said our good-byes and I headed directly South from Spokane, taking highways down the "back" of Washington state and then Oregon and into Northern California, farm country. It was Mother's Day, 1997, and I remember crying for miles while I thought about my mom.
Anyway, I stuck to the back roads and highways in California as well, and made my way down to Death Valley, then drove East to Pahrump, Nevada. Not for the brothers, but because that's where my father lived. Since my plan to become a Canadian was bust, I decided to visit my dad while I figured out what to do next.
[J.D. July 28, 2020]
