Blood Trails Across Texas: True Crime Stories as Told by the Men Who Lived Them

Blood TrAIls

Across Texas

Blood Trails Across Texas

©٢٠١٦ Brian R. Foster

All Rights Reserved

No portion of this publication may be reproduced, duplicated, printed, or copied either electronically, by photocopy, manually, or in any manner yet known or to be invented at some future date. Reproduction is allowed only with written approval of the holder of the copyright, except for brief quotations used in a book review.

ISBN: 978-0-9837073-6-3

Black Dog Swamp Publishing Co.

PO Box 3365

Early, Texas 76803

www.texastruecrime.com

Blood TrAIls Across Texas

By Brian R. Foster

Houston Homicide (Ret)

Book One of the Texas True Crime Series

Other books by Brian R. Foster

Homicidal Humor

More Homicidal Humor

The Clot Thickens

•Recognition and Thanks•

I want to thank the following people for their input and help getting source material for this book. There are a couple of folks who did not want to be mentioned by name. I will not rat you out but still want you to know I appreciate your contributions.

Alfred Herrmann

Frank Scoggins and Jim Scoggins

Trampas Gooding

Rico Garcia

Scott Dobyanski

Harry Womack

Ted Wilson and Doug Osterberg

Jim Boy

David Calhoun

Mike Peters

Ismael F. Iffy Flores and John Parker

Al Cuellar

James Foster

Mike Williams and Lee Dawson

Steven Murdock

Charles Westbrook

Anyone I Failed to List

•Dedication•

This book is dedicated to the memory of two good cops. Their names were David Collier and Larry Ott. Both worked as Houston Homicide investigators. They were not showboats or hotdogs, just hard working, straightforward guys. Dave came down with lung cancer but continued working murder cases until his death. I once asked Larry why Collier did not just retire and try and enjoy the rest of the days he had on this earth. Ott responded with, I think he wants to die a Homicide detective. Dave had thirty years I know of when he died. He was already in Homicide when I went through the police academy, and had been there a while at least. Larry Ott put in forty years with Homicide before retiring.

If I were a crook, I would want to be investigated by some pretty boy who was looking for television footage of himself or his name in print. I would fear being investigated by these two tenacious plodders who turned over every rock looking for clues, and kept at it.

•Introduction•

Scott Doby Dobyanski and I both worked the 4:00 p.m. to midnight shift in the Houston Police Department Homicide Division. There, we saw things your mother never told you about.

During our years in Patrol, we worked different shifts, so our paths didn’t cross until we arrived in Homicide. Although we were both on the same shift in Homicide, we never worked cases together. A few years into my retirement, Doby approached me asking if I would write the story of his career case. Every cop has a career case. That case either causes them to well up with pride or its outcome sticks in their guts where it festers. Doby’s career case did both. It was also a story that was too good not to be retold. While hashing out that case with him, a couple of other stories came to light (both of which are included in this book). This discussion with Doby sparked the idea of writing a series of actual homicide stories—namely, career cases—worked by officers. I have a love of short stories and began asking other retired officers from multiple locations about their career cases.

These stories span Texas from the Big Thicket to the Gulf Coast and into both the Hill Country and Big Bend Country. These investigations are the things that stuck in men’s minds after a lifetime of seeing too much carnage. If any of these stories were not recorded they would be lost forever, and that would be a shame. Homicide investigation is a terribly interesting vocation, but it can eat you alive if you internalize what you see. It is also a pressure cooker of a lifestyle that comes equipped with bad coffee and political and social pressure as well. You miss too many school functions and wind up working your days off too many times. If you are lucky you don’t go through too many marriages. I was once told that working Homicide was like having a very demanding mistress that you can’t turn loose of and who will try and dominate your life. Therefore you need to look for a release from the madness you work in and among. I found mine by looking for humor in or around the septic tank I waded through. It helped keep me grounded. I also lived on some acreage which I looked upon as my Eden from the madhouse where I worked to pay the bills. Those guys that internalized what they saw at work developed ulcers, heart trouble, high blood pressure, suffered panic attacks, lived on happy pills or crawled up inside a bottle. Looking through a shot glass numbs you somewhat, but does not give you a clear vision of the world around or in front of you.

The names of the suspects, their co-conspirators, the victims and their family members appearing here are neither true nor correct. The victims and their families have been put through enough grief. You see, there are two categories of homicide victims. The first are the actual murder victims, and the second is the surviving loved ones. These families carry on but never really get over their loss and horror of the details.

Some of the family members in the cases I worked still keep in touch with me via the internet. Their loss never really goes away. I’m told that the pain lessens somewhat with time, but not the loss. The offspring of the murder victims are affected in ways most of us will never comprehend. Out of respect for these victims, I have changed the names and locations in these stories. I simply do not want the survivors to be contacted by curious people or reviewers of this book just because it was my opinion that the stories needed to be put into print.

In my never-to-be-humble opinion, the suspects and their co-conspirators in these cases have not suffered, and will never suffer, enough. I have not used the suspects’ true names as I don’t want to spend my time fending off lawsuits ginned out by one or more jake-leg lawyers. I do not want to be their next victim, and you never know when there may be a shortage of ambulances to chase. There are honorable men and women who practice law, and those I appreciate. They are the true gunfighters of their vocation. The names of persons interviewed and the people who were witnesses in these cases have similarly also been modified to protect their privacy. These modifications have also been made so several old investigators’ wives can sleep better at night by not having to worry about too many things that go bump in the night.

I did, however, use the correct names of the investigating detectives and the assistant district attorneys that worked on these cases with them. They deserve the recognition for the quality of the work that was done in these matters. The convicted suspect in the first story (Robert Lumas) is now out of prison and walking the streets due to a glitch in the system. The two main suspects in The Voodoo Queen and The Texas State Hotel got what they deserved. Jones (The Voodoo Queen) was sent directly to Hell by the State of Texas by means of lethal injection and Turner/Kesterson (The Texas State Hotel) got a life sentence but died from natural causes while still in prison. We like to think that his execution was carried out by a higher authority followed by his real and eternal judgment day.

Before we get into the meat of these investigations I’d like to plant a seed or two in your brain about some things you may never have been exposed to. Bear with me a moment and you may well come away with a bit of an education into the darker side of man.

Psychos, Wackos, and Things to Ponder Upon

I have been a student of human nature all of my life and really found my niche while working in Houston’s Homicide Division. By working homicides you get a look into the private and most human sides of life. Some victims are the true innocents, while others have a side of their life they have actively sought to hide.

Regarding the criminals you seek as a criminal investigator, social scientists kick around the terms sociopath and psychopath a lot. Just think of a sociopath as someone who is without morals, and is a totally self-centered, manipulative brat. Their character traits blend with those of the criminal psychopath. These deviants are rarely successful and tend to be sporadic in their lives and behavior. Both groups have two primary words in their vocabularies: I and me. The psychopath is an individual that may or may not be criminally oriented—and will typically have one constant trait that is always present and which makes him what he truly is. Again, he may share all or some of the traits of the sociopath.

The thing that has interested me over the years is that when they get into trouble, these scholars will most often turn to a woman for help. They can beat their women, rob and kill people with no remorse, but when not in control they will run straight to a mother, grandmother, girlfriend, aunt, or sister. This monster may laugh as he cuts someone’s heart out with a dull knife but then cry Momma, Momma, Momma as soon as he gets caught.

The psychopath is completely unable to internalize guilt. There are many other personality traits that are usually present in this group, and just how strongly those other traits are expressed, and which facets dominate the individual determine what that person’s personality is going to be. This individual is a risk taker and will be impulsive.

Very few true psychopaths are women. I have known only one such person and she was both well organized and intelligent. In fact, she had a PhD in geophysics. I did not make her official diagnosis, but the Texas Department of Criminal Justice did during her two prison terms. In fact, she handled her own successful appeal in the attempted murder of her estranged second husband’s girlfriend. While out on an appeal bond she stalked her ex-husband and his current wife while wearing disguises. During her appeal process her second former husband’s house was burned down by an unknown arsonist. Her second case was retried and she was convicted once more. Her first arrest was for the shooting of her first husband (in the buttocks) in a Houston airport parking lot. She got probation in that case. Her second prison stay was for a stalking case I filed. She was caught on video multiple times and pled guilty. She served both of her prison terms completely as she did not want supervision upon release.

The intelligence levels among most psychopaths are usually (thankfully) only moderate. Their organizational skills are poor and the personal relationships they have are shallow and often very short-lived. Any display of emotion (other than anger) is simply a learned behavior, therefore any interaction with them is about as genuine as a conversation with a Myna bird.

In other words, the psychopath is a chameleon. These people (psychos and sociopaths), interestingly enough, are often charismatic and can be very manipulative. They are somewhat handicapped, however, in that they are unable to actually know or determine if the party they have been either lying to or are trying to manipulate really believes them or not.

If you run up on a criminally oriented psychopath with good organizational skills then society (or even worse, you) can be in store for some really serious problems. He does not need to be overly bright to succeed at attaining his twisted goals—being organized is enough. Normal people can’t understand his motivation. For example, a stalker will continue their stalking of someone until that individual is no longer attractive to them. What the actual attraction is will be beyond a normal person’s grasp. If he has a high IQ it can be even worse. When such an individual is not criminally oriented but intelligent they may become a captain of industry. He is not prone to give up and often has enough drive to continue trying one endeavor after another until he succeeds. He often does well in the practice of law. Fortunately for law enforcement the fact that poor organizational skills are most often exhibited by the criminal psychopath class individual is a real plus.

I am not labelling the convicted suspects in any of the following cases I have written about psychopaths or sociopaths. I have never met any of them personally and I do not have the credentials to back up such a diagnosis. I will simply let you as the reader make that decision if you so desire.

Robert Lumas (the suspect in the first story) has been filed on for multiple felony criminal charges over the course of his adult life. He has spent two hitches in prison for violent acts. Lumas was sentenced to forty years in prison for murdering a woman who had been his wife for a period of only about two whole weeks. It is my opinion (and only that) that he committed the murder because the victim had a little over three hundred thousand dollars in life insurance. She fortunately did not make him her beneficiary of those policies before she was murdered. He only served ten calendar years for that crime. This is probably one of the more interesting murder cases I was exposed to during my thirty-four-year police career.

The Joyce Lumas murder investigation consisted of some really good police work (combined with a bit of pure-D, unadulterated blind luck) that came about because of a bad gut feeling. Collectively, four experienced investigators felt the case just didn’t smell right. They went the extra mile and then some, rather than just write the matter off as a missing person case. They knew it was not a case of a new wife who was simply fed up with her unemployed ex-con husband and just skying up. Had some other people been assigned this case it might not have gone as well as it did. The luck of the draw is a truism that exists in poker, rodeo rough stock riding, criminal investigation and prosecution. This information has been provided as some real food for thought and things to ponder upon.

Another point I would like to put out there is that the human animal is a predator. There are two types of animals in this world—predators and prey. Predators like wolves, bears, and big cats all have their eyes on the front of their heads. Prey animals like rabbits, deer, birds or mice have eyes on the sides of their heads. Look in the mirror. Which group do we human animals fall into? We in the western world want to hold ourselves out to be a civilized people. There are those among us, though, who never will make it to that level. My father told me that we Middle Americans are far too civilized for our own good. He said Americans think chickens are born without feathers, feet or heads and lie around in the grocery store on a piece of foam waiting for us to take them home and cook them. I have worked looking into the underbelly of the beast for thirty-five years. Being a street corner philosopher, I thought I might share these thoughts before we get down to the details of these specific murder cases.

Welcome to what was my world for many years. The cases re-surface from time to time, either when cold cases are cleared, or cases are re-tried following a conviction’s reversal upon appeal. I now have a twenty-year-old murder that has finally cleared and will be going to trial soon. I guess homicide work is like being in the Mob—once in, never out. That and you will never see things in life as others do. You appreciate and understand your mortality better than most.

Since you are reading this book you obviously have an interest in crime, criminals and the investigation of both. The investigations into these career cases that follow are some of the most interesting stories I have come across in the thirty-four years I spent in law enforcement. Now sit back and have a good read.

•ROBERT Lumas•

One hot, muggy night in Houston, Texas, uniformed HPD officers Scott Doby Dobyanski and Jimmy O’Brien were working the night shift out of the Beechnut Station. Their beat included a stretch of Westheimer Road that was known as Sin Alley by the area uniformed troops. Sin Alley was a stretch of road populated by several strip joints, a dirty book store or two with peep show video booths in the back, and a movie house that featured porn. This area was more or less a multi-service center for lower forms of life. The clientele in this area consisted of trashy women and degenerates of both genders.

Typically, wherever trashy women and degenerates hang out, you also find both drugs and drug dealers who associate with this lower class of people. Beyond that social circle, you get the predatory humans who are prone to rob dope dealers, club patrons and coin-operated machines that masquerade as women—the ones who often come away from a night’s work carrying several hundred dollars in cash. Area uniformed cops made regular passes through the parking lots of those wonderful establishments, and on a pretty consistent basis came up with some good quality arrests. The concept here is that if you are looking to catch flies you need to hang around dung heaps.

On this particular night, Dobyanski and O’Brien sat at a traffic light at the corner of Hillcroft Avenue and Westheimer Road, waiting to turn west onto Westheimer. The stripped down police car they were riding in did not even have a radio in the dashboard. They made do with a portable, battery-operated Good Time radio that sat on top of the dash, held in place with rubber bands affixed to paper clips hooked into the windshield defroster/heater vents.

As they sat at the light they were looking directly toward a twenty-four-hour gas station across the intersection. A man at the walk-up pay window of the gas station turned and looked over his left shoulder. Next, he did a complete about face and sprinted approximately fifteen yards to a Chevrolet Camaro parked in the gas station lot. The uniformed cops watched as the man in question dove—Superman style—through the car’s open passenger window. The driver of the Camaro sped off, spinning the tires as he pulled out onto Westheimer, in too much of a hurry to remember to turn on his headlights. Once on Westheimer—a busy, six-lane road—the driver slowed to a crawl and began to weave back and forth between different lanes of traffic. The cops pulled up behind the car and turned on their emergency lights. The Camaro continued westbound on Westheimer, but now at very slow rate of speed. A few blocks later, the driver began to weave back and forth across all six lanes of undivided traffic. Next, the slow moving muscle car jumped the far left curb and hit several cars parked in a strip club parking lot.

The officers pulled up behind the wrecked car, and carefully made their approach, each with a gun in one hand and a flashlight in the other. When they reached the car they discovered two men fighting in the back seat. The man they’d seen jump through the car’s passenger window now had another man—sporting a serious gash on his forehead—in a headlock. The choker was calling out to the cops, He tried to steal my car! His victim, who was obviously losing the fight, immediately countered with, I did not steal his car!

Both men were handcuffed and questioned, and the officers determined the choker was, in fact, the registered owner of the car. It turned out that the loser of the fight had technically been telling the truth. He had not in actuality stolen the car. He’d just been unsuccessful in his attempt to steal it.

Scalp wounds bleed badly, so an ambulance was called for the auto thief, who had been identified as Robert Lumas. Upon examination, the ambulance crew advised the crook really needed several stitches to close the gash on his forehead. The suspect claimed he was a Marine Corps veteran and demanded to be taken to the Veteran’s Administration Hospital for treatment.

Young officers Dobyanski and O’Brien were about to be introduced to a common scam used by crooks attempting to slip away from an arrest.

After Lumas was loaded up, the two officers followed the ambulance to the hospital. There they were advised that city, county and state police have no jurisdiction at Veteran’s Administration hospitals, since they sit on federal reservations. Fortunately, most of the federal police at those locations are former cops and work well with local police agencies. Since VA cops have to call city cops from time to time to have drunks and problem children arrested, it benefits them to maintain good relationships with the locals. The VA police were asked to sit on Lumas while the city officers filed charges.

Once charges were filed, Sin Alley’s unlucky auto thief of