Jeni
08-16-2002, 09:01 PM
Freedom awaits serial killer who vowed to kill again
Scheduled for release in four years, victims' relatives fight to keep Inkster native locked up
By Joel Kurth / The Detroit News
What's next
Watts
Crime-victim activists have asked Texas Gov. Rick Perry to appoint a task force to look into ways to keep Coral Eugene Watts in prison beyond his scheduled release date in May 2006.
A decision is expected before fall.
Known victims
Former Inkster resident Coral Eugene Watts has confessed to killing 13 women and is a suspect in the deaths of at least 26 others, including six in Michigan and two in Windsor. Here's a list of Watts' known victims.
Clyne
Jeanne Clyne, 35, a Detroit News reporter stabbed to death at least 11 times on Kercheval between Lothrop and Merriweather in Grosse Pointe Farms on Oct. 31, 1979.
Linda Tilley, 22, drowned in swimming pool in Austin, Texas, on Sept. 5, 1981.
Elizabeth Montgomery, 25, stabbed as she walked her dog in Houston on Sept. 12, 1981.
Wolf
Later that day, Susan Wolf, 21, a recent transplant from Bay City, was stabbed in her apartment in Houston.
Phyllis Tamm, 27, was hanged from a tree in Houston on Jan. 4, 1982.
Margaret Fossi, 25, was found dead in the trunk of her car in Houston on Jan. 17, 1982.
Elena Semander, 20, was found in a trash bin in Houston on Feb. 17, 1982.
Emily LaQua, 14, was strangled and stuffed into a culvert in Brookshire, Texas, on March 20, 1982.
Edith Ledet, 34, was stabbed to death in Galveston on March 27, 1982.
Yolanda Gracin, 21, was stabbed to death in Houston on April 15, 1982.
Carrie Jefferson, 32, was strangled and stabbed in Houston on April 16, 1982.
Suzanne Searles, 25, was strangled and drowned in a flower pot in Houston on April 21, 1982.
Michelle Maday, 20, was choked to death outside her apartment in Houston on May 23, 1982.
Later that day, Watts was arrested when he broke into the Houston apartment of Lori Lister and Melinda Aguilar and attacked the two.
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INKSTER -- Coral Eugene Watts didn't miss a bite of his jelly doughnut as he told detectives how he stalked a Grosse Pointe Farms woman, then stabbed her 11 times on one of the suburb's busiest streets.
The Inkster native's multistate killing spree ended in 1982. Sitting in a Texas jail, an immunity deal in hand, Watts nonchalantly described to Michigan and Texas authorities how he took the lives of 13 women since 1979.
He was a suspect in another 26 deaths, including six in Michigan and two in Windsor. Before he left for prison, he told a Texas judge: "You know, if they ever let me out, I'll kill again."
Watts is scheduled to get the chance in 2006, when he's set to become the nation's first serial killer to be freed.
The man known as the Sunday Morning Slasher was imprisoned for burglary and given immunity for the murders to which he confessed. He will be 52 in 2006.
The prospect of his release has victims' relatives furious, southeast Michigan authorities combing old cases for fresh evidence to bring new charges against him and crime-victim advocates nationwide rallying for new laws to keep the son of a former Detroit teacher in jail.
"This has been on my mind for 22 years," said Michael Clyne, 60, of Grosse Pointe Farms, whose wife, Detroit News reporter Jeanne Clyne, was killed by Watts on Halloween 1979. "He's a sick, perverse man who shouldn't be roaming the streets preying on women."
Andy Kahan, a deputy mayor in Houston, calls Watts' case the "Murphy's law of justice."
Watts, sentenced to 60 years in the controversial plea deal, is scheduled to serve only 24 years because of credits for good behavior.
Watts doesn't need the help of a parole board because Texas simply can't keep him longer. To the system, he's a burglar, not a murderer and will be released because he qualifies for a mandatory early-release program that knocks off three days from his sentence for each day served.
Lacking evidence, Texas and Wayne County prosecutors cut a deal that let Watts plead guilty in 1982 to breaking into a Houston woman's apartment and trying to drown her.
By some accounts, Watts killed as many as 60 women. But at the time, the sentence seemed like it was enough, said Robert K. Ferber, Grosse Pointe Farms' public safety director.
"Everyone thought he'd be in jail for the rest of his life," Ferber said.
"We knew it was him (who killed Clyne), but we had no evidence. None," he said. "He was so calculated and cold-blooded, he left us nothing. No murder weapon. No prints. No witnesses. He never even touched her. He stabbed her standing up."
He targeted 'evil eyes'
Watts got the nickname Sunday Morning Slasher after being linked to a series of murders on Sundays in Ann Arbor, but he apparently was indiscriminate with the time of his crimes, the means of death and the demographics of his victims.
When he confessed to Texas and Grosse Pointe Farms detectives, Watts described how he killed during all hours of the day, equally preferred stabbing, strangling and drowning and stalked his victims regardless of race, economic status or geography.
The only link: Watts wanted to remove their "evil eyes." As he rattled off details about the slayings that only the killer could have known, Watts repeated a similar phrase: "She had evil eyes. ... I had to release the spirit."
"This guy is the reason retired policemen still carry guns," said George Van Tiem, a retired Grosse Pointe Farms detective who investigated the Clyne murder.
Another detective, who is now in a nursing home, interviewed Watts in Texas. The officer, Earl Field, told Ferber that Watts "never missed a swallow" of his doughnut as he recalled stabbing Clyne as she walked along Kercheval, one of Grosse Pointe Farms' busiest streets.
Michael Clyne was initially a suspect in his 44-year-old wife's death. He said Watts' impending release "brings back her totally senseless death," but he isn't second-guessing the plea deal that could allow Watts to again walk free.
"I can't hide or deny (the pain) because it doesn't deal with the issue," said Clyne, a project manager for Blue Cross-Blue Shield of Michigan who still lives in Grosse Pointe Farms.
Unless new charges are brought or Texas lawmakers somehow can craft constitutionally viable legislation to keep a man in prison past his release date, Watts will walk in May 2006. And those who've watched the case closely are convinced that he will kill again.
"Coral Watts is a diabolical killing machine," said Kahan, Houston's deputy mayor who is leading the movement to keep Watts behind bars.
"This is no longer a Texas issue. He will take off from Texas the minute he is released and he will resume his carnage."
Police hot on trail
Watts, a former Golden Gloves boxer known as a "Mama's boy," left Michigan for Houston in April 1981 with the police hot on his trail.
Between October 1979 and November 1980, 14 women were attacked and killed from Ann Arbor to Windsor, back to Harper Woods and down to Toledo.
Police thought Watts was their man. They placed tracking devices on his car. They followed him. Ann Arbor police almost caught a break in January 1980 when a traffic stop found a notebook in Watts' car containing the faint outline of the phrase "REBECCA IS A LOVER." Police questioned him but didn't have enough evidence to charge him.
Three months earlier, University of Michigan student, 20-year-old Rebecca Huff, had been found stabbed outside her home. She was the third young woman killed in similar circumstances in six months in Ann Arbor.
When Watts left for Texas, Michigan authorities alerted Houston police and sent them a thick file on Watts. He told investigators he had killed at least 12 more women before he was caught in May 1982 trying to drown a woman in her apartment.
The Detroit News was unable to contact Watts' relatives.
Unlike other serial killers known for ego or inflating the number of their victims, Watts has never spoken publicly about his crimes, refusing all requests for interviews and keeping in sporadic contact with his attorneys.
His last public statement came in 2001 when he wrote Kahan to lend his support for a campaign to stop Web sites from auctioning memorabilia from serial killers.
The letter with crude spellings begins lucidly, then sinks into a diatribe against government and the media.
"The state. They can not be trusted. They mix truth with falsehood. They lie, deceive, mislead and backstab. Some of you are more cruel and vicious that the criminals you hold in prison. And some of you belong in prison yourselves."
Imprisoned 20 years
This month marks the 20th anniversary of Watts' imprisonment, and the milestone has spurred furious activity to keep him in prison.
Relatives of victims rallied in Houston earlier this month. They're circulating petitions against Watts, pressuring state lawmakers to draft laws targeting Watts and asking Gov. Rick Perry to appoint a task force of the nation's brightest minds to see what can be done.
Police in Ann Arbor have reopened the cases of the three unsolved murders, hoping to find DNA evidence that may link them to Watts, said Sgt. Michael Logghe. Wayne County Prosecutor Michael Duggan's office has begun reviewing cases that may involve Watts.
"We're going to go after him in every case possible here in Michigan," said Tom Furtaw, an assistant prosecutor in the homicide unit.
Clyne said he hopes that police can uncover DNA or other evidence that somehow could bring new charges against Watts.
Kahan said "everything that could have gone wrong did with this case." He likened Watts to a force of nature whose sole purpose is to kill.
"We have a storm that we know is coming," Kahan said. "It's brewing in the sky, the sea, the ground.
"It's going to wreak havoc on innocent women and the question we have to ask ourselves is if we're going to allow the storm to land or prevent it from wrecking people's lives."
The Texas law that allows inmates to accumulate "good time" credits was passed in 1977 -- five years before Watts' incarceration -- then reformed in 1987 to make it harder for inmates to get out early before it was finally abolished in 1995.
It can't be applied retroactively to inmates, but if Watts was convicted five years earlier or later, he would be in prison for his full 60-year sentence.
Michigan allowed inmates credit for good behavior up to seven days for every month they served until lawmakers outlawed early release in 1998.
The good-time policy let criminals reduce their sentences by as much as a quarter, said Russ Marlan, spokesman for the Department of Corrections.
Texas legislators are eyeing laws similar to one in Kansas that allows officials to imprison pedophiles after they've completed their sentence if it can be proved that they still pose risks. Civil libertarians have decried the law as blatantly unconstitutional.
Keri Whitlow isn't concerned about legal niceties. Watts admitted he stabbed her 21-year-old roommate, Susan Wolf, to death Sept. 12, 1981, as she carried groceries from her car in Houston.
The Bay City natives had moved from Ypsilanti just months earlier.
"She didn't even have a chance to talk to Watts before he killed her," Whitlow said.
"I guarantee if he talked to her, he would not have thought she was evil. She never met a stranger. She could have just as easily made friends with a bum on the street as a CEO. She was so nonjudgmental, it was weird she'd be killed by a person who judged her."
Scheduled for release in four years, victims' relatives fight to keep Inkster native locked up
By Joel Kurth / The Detroit News
What's next
Watts
Crime-victim activists have asked Texas Gov. Rick Perry to appoint a task force to look into ways to keep Coral Eugene Watts in prison beyond his scheduled release date in May 2006.
A decision is expected before fall.
Known victims
Former Inkster resident Coral Eugene Watts has confessed to killing 13 women and is a suspect in the deaths of at least 26 others, including six in Michigan and two in Windsor. Here's a list of Watts' known victims.
Clyne
Jeanne Clyne, 35, a Detroit News reporter stabbed to death at least 11 times on Kercheval between Lothrop and Merriweather in Grosse Pointe Farms on Oct. 31, 1979.
Linda Tilley, 22, drowned in swimming pool in Austin, Texas, on Sept. 5, 1981.
Elizabeth Montgomery, 25, stabbed as she walked her dog in Houston on Sept. 12, 1981.
Wolf
Later that day, Susan Wolf, 21, a recent transplant from Bay City, was stabbed in her apartment in Houston.
Phyllis Tamm, 27, was hanged from a tree in Houston on Jan. 4, 1982.
Margaret Fossi, 25, was found dead in the trunk of her car in Houston on Jan. 17, 1982.
Elena Semander, 20, was found in a trash bin in Houston on Feb. 17, 1982.
Emily LaQua, 14, was strangled and stuffed into a culvert in Brookshire, Texas, on March 20, 1982.
Edith Ledet, 34, was stabbed to death in Galveston on March 27, 1982.
Yolanda Gracin, 21, was stabbed to death in Houston on April 15, 1982.
Carrie Jefferson, 32, was strangled and stabbed in Houston on April 16, 1982.
Suzanne Searles, 25, was strangled and drowned in a flower pot in Houston on April 21, 1982.
Michelle Maday, 20, was choked to death outside her apartment in Houston on May 23, 1982.
Later that day, Watts was arrested when he broke into the Houston apartment of Lori Lister and Melinda Aguilar and attacked the two.
Comment on this story
Send this story to a friend
Get Home Delivery
INKSTER -- Coral Eugene Watts didn't miss a bite of his jelly doughnut as he told detectives how he stalked a Grosse Pointe Farms woman, then stabbed her 11 times on one of the suburb's busiest streets.
The Inkster native's multistate killing spree ended in 1982. Sitting in a Texas jail, an immunity deal in hand, Watts nonchalantly described to Michigan and Texas authorities how he took the lives of 13 women since 1979.
He was a suspect in another 26 deaths, including six in Michigan and two in Windsor. Before he left for prison, he told a Texas judge: "You know, if they ever let me out, I'll kill again."
Watts is scheduled to get the chance in 2006, when he's set to become the nation's first serial killer to be freed.
The man known as the Sunday Morning Slasher was imprisoned for burglary and given immunity for the murders to which he confessed. He will be 52 in 2006.
The prospect of his release has victims' relatives furious, southeast Michigan authorities combing old cases for fresh evidence to bring new charges against him and crime-victim advocates nationwide rallying for new laws to keep the son of a former Detroit teacher in jail.
"This has been on my mind for 22 years," said Michael Clyne, 60, of Grosse Pointe Farms, whose wife, Detroit News reporter Jeanne Clyne, was killed by Watts on Halloween 1979. "He's a sick, perverse man who shouldn't be roaming the streets preying on women."
Andy Kahan, a deputy mayor in Houston, calls Watts' case the "Murphy's law of justice."
Watts, sentenced to 60 years in the controversial plea deal, is scheduled to serve only 24 years because of credits for good behavior.
Watts doesn't need the help of a parole board because Texas simply can't keep him longer. To the system, he's a burglar, not a murderer and will be released because he qualifies for a mandatory early-release program that knocks off three days from his sentence for each day served.
Lacking evidence, Texas and Wayne County prosecutors cut a deal that let Watts plead guilty in 1982 to breaking into a Houston woman's apartment and trying to drown her.
By some accounts, Watts killed as many as 60 women. But at the time, the sentence seemed like it was enough, said Robert K. Ferber, Grosse Pointe Farms' public safety director.
"Everyone thought he'd be in jail for the rest of his life," Ferber said.
"We knew it was him (who killed Clyne), but we had no evidence. None," he said. "He was so calculated and cold-blooded, he left us nothing. No murder weapon. No prints. No witnesses. He never even touched her. He stabbed her standing up."
He targeted 'evil eyes'
Watts got the nickname Sunday Morning Slasher after being linked to a series of murders on Sundays in Ann Arbor, but he apparently was indiscriminate with the time of his crimes, the means of death and the demographics of his victims.
When he confessed to Texas and Grosse Pointe Farms detectives, Watts described how he killed during all hours of the day, equally preferred stabbing, strangling and drowning and stalked his victims regardless of race, economic status or geography.
The only link: Watts wanted to remove their "evil eyes." As he rattled off details about the slayings that only the killer could have known, Watts repeated a similar phrase: "She had evil eyes. ... I had to release the spirit."
"This guy is the reason retired policemen still carry guns," said George Van Tiem, a retired Grosse Pointe Farms detective who investigated the Clyne murder.
Another detective, who is now in a nursing home, interviewed Watts in Texas. The officer, Earl Field, told Ferber that Watts "never missed a swallow" of his doughnut as he recalled stabbing Clyne as she walked along Kercheval, one of Grosse Pointe Farms' busiest streets.
Michael Clyne was initially a suspect in his 44-year-old wife's death. He said Watts' impending release "brings back her totally senseless death," but he isn't second-guessing the plea deal that could allow Watts to again walk free.
"I can't hide or deny (the pain) because it doesn't deal with the issue," said Clyne, a project manager for Blue Cross-Blue Shield of Michigan who still lives in Grosse Pointe Farms.
Unless new charges are brought or Texas lawmakers somehow can craft constitutionally viable legislation to keep a man in prison past his release date, Watts will walk in May 2006. And those who've watched the case closely are convinced that he will kill again.
"Coral Watts is a diabolical killing machine," said Kahan, Houston's deputy mayor who is leading the movement to keep Watts behind bars.
"This is no longer a Texas issue. He will take off from Texas the minute he is released and he will resume his carnage."
Police hot on trail
Watts, a former Golden Gloves boxer known as a "Mama's boy," left Michigan for Houston in April 1981 with the police hot on his trail.
Between October 1979 and November 1980, 14 women were attacked and killed from Ann Arbor to Windsor, back to Harper Woods and down to Toledo.
Police thought Watts was their man. They placed tracking devices on his car. They followed him. Ann Arbor police almost caught a break in January 1980 when a traffic stop found a notebook in Watts' car containing the faint outline of the phrase "REBECCA IS A LOVER." Police questioned him but didn't have enough evidence to charge him.
Three months earlier, University of Michigan student, 20-year-old Rebecca Huff, had been found stabbed outside her home. She was the third young woman killed in similar circumstances in six months in Ann Arbor.
When Watts left for Texas, Michigan authorities alerted Houston police and sent them a thick file on Watts. He told investigators he had killed at least 12 more women before he was caught in May 1982 trying to drown a woman in her apartment.
The Detroit News was unable to contact Watts' relatives.
Unlike other serial killers known for ego or inflating the number of their victims, Watts has never spoken publicly about his crimes, refusing all requests for interviews and keeping in sporadic contact with his attorneys.
His last public statement came in 2001 when he wrote Kahan to lend his support for a campaign to stop Web sites from auctioning memorabilia from serial killers.
The letter with crude spellings begins lucidly, then sinks into a diatribe against government and the media.
"The state. They can not be trusted. They mix truth with falsehood. They lie, deceive, mislead and backstab. Some of you are more cruel and vicious that the criminals you hold in prison. And some of you belong in prison yourselves."
Imprisoned 20 years
This month marks the 20th anniversary of Watts' imprisonment, and the milestone has spurred furious activity to keep him in prison.
Relatives of victims rallied in Houston earlier this month. They're circulating petitions against Watts, pressuring state lawmakers to draft laws targeting Watts and asking Gov. Rick Perry to appoint a task force of the nation's brightest minds to see what can be done.
Police in Ann Arbor have reopened the cases of the three unsolved murders, hoping to find DNA evidence that may link them to Watts, said Sgt. Michael Logghe. Wayne County Prosecutor Michael Duggan's office has begun reviewing cases that may involve Watts.
"We're going to go after him in every case possible here in Michigan," said Tom Furtaw, an assistant prosecutor in the homicide unit.
Clyne said he hopes that police can uncover DNA or other evidence that somehow could bring new charges against Watts.
Kahan said "everything that could have gone wrong did with this case." He likened Watts to a force of nature whose sole purpose is to kill.
"We have a storm that we know is coming," Kahan said. "It's brewing in the sky, the sea, the ground.
"It's going to wreak havoc on innocent women and the question we have to ask ourselves is if we're going to allow the storm to land or prevent it from wrecking people's lives."
The Texas law that allows inmates to accumulate "good time" credits was passed in 1977 -- five years before Watts' incarceration -- then reformed in 1987 to make it harder for inmates to get out early before it was finally abolished in 1995.
It can't be applied retroactively to inmates, but if Watts was convicted five years earlier or later, he would be in prison for his full 60-year sentence.
Michigan allowed inmates credit for good behavior up to seven days for every month they served until lawmakers outlawed early release in 1998.
The good-time policy let criminals reduce their sentences by as much as a quarter, said Russ Marlan, spokesman for the Department of Corrections.
Texas legislators are eyeing laws similar to one in Kansas that allows officials to imprison pedophiles after they've completed their sentence if it can be proved that they still pose risks. Civil libertarians have decried the law as blatantly unconstitutional.
Keri Whitlow isn't concerned about legal niceties. Watts admitted he stabbed her 21-year-old roommate, Susan Wolf, to death Sept. 12, 1981, as she carried groceries from her car in Houston.
The Bay City natives had moved from Ypsilanti just months earlier.
"She didn't even have a chance to talk to Watts before he killed her," Whitlow said.
"I guarantee if he talked to her, he would not have thought she was evil. She never met a stranger. She could have just as easily made friends with a bum on the street as a CEO. She was so nonjudgmental, it was weird she'd be killed by a person who judged her."