On May 1, 1982, the lock on Suzanne Searles’s apartment door was changed. A “Notice to Vacate” letter was stuck in between the door and the wooden frame.
Harriett Semander kept tracking brutal murders in Houston. She could not help but find a pattern emerging that reminded her of the murder of her daughter Elena. Young, single women, usually white, alone, late at night, and almost always on a Saturday night or early Sunday morning. Harriett, however, did not just sit on this information. She gathered together with other parents of the Houston Chapter of Parents of Murdered Children organization. The objective was to compare notes on the numerous types of murders that occurred in their city to see if they could establish a pattern.
Harriett took extensive notes on all of her research. She read through both city papers every day and clipped numerous articles about young women who were being murdered. Her obsession may have simply seemed like an escape of a mourning mother; however, true patterns began to emerge. In one entry Semander wrote, “By now, I’m beginning to notice too many similarities in the women’s murders and disappearances. Maybe the actual death weapon wasn’t all that important,” she continued. “I’m looking for ‘strangled with clothing’ victims.” The junior gumshoe already far surpassed the
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supposed “profilers” of the FBI when she theorized, “If I were a murderer, I certainly wouldn’t kill the same way all the time. I would change the m.o. to fool the police.”
Semander became frustrated that the city of Houston could not see the obvious right in front of their very noses. The women of Houston were being slaughtered by a madman—by a single, deranged individual.
Harriett decided she would do something about what she noticed. She started off by first contacting Police Chief Lee Brown’s office on May 14, 1982. She wanted the chief to make a public announcement that a killer was on the loose. She called the police department and spoke with a sergeant who assured her he would pass along her concerns to Chief Brown. Semander seriously doubted he told his boss.
Semander spent the next three days continuing her pursuit of police assistance. She tried to get ahold of a captain, any captain, who would listen to her and, more important, take her seriously. Instead of help, however, all she got was the runaround. One captain told her that they often have “policemen just sitting around because there aren’t enough patrol cars.” Blame was being assigned elsewhere. “The city council just won’t give us the money we need,” the captain continued to complain.
Semander was told to contact the police department’s public relations department. She called and spoke with Larry Troutt, who informed her that any public warnings must come from the police chief’s department.
Semander called the original sergeant and informed him that she was getting the runaround. The sergeant informed her that any one of the officers she spoke with had the authority to invoke a public warning. Semander
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believed they were simply “passing the buck.” Semander also claimed that he told her that he believed most of the officers were unwilling to help because they were still wait-ing to see how the new chief would shake out.
Semander then tried to contact Mayor Whitmire; however, she was once again stonewalled. The mayor’s aide described the grieving mother as “overwrought.” Semander described the scenario as a “fear like never before; something was terribly wrong.”
Semander would not give up. Once she realized she would receive no help from Chief Brown or Mayor Whitmire, Semander turned to the media. On May 17, 1982, Harriett called news reporter Steve Petrou, of Channel 11 News, the local CBS affiliate. She described her research to Petrou and expressed her concerns that a killer or killers were in their midst. Petrou eagerly agreed to interview her. The interview with Harriett Semander aired that same night. She finally was able to get her warning out.
One of the target audience members that Semander was trying to reach was Michelle Maday. Michelle was born on May 22, 1962, to Michael and Florence “Flo” Maday, in Milwaukee, Wisconsin. She moved to Houston, Texas, with her mother and father at the end of 1980.
Michelle’s parents split up, but she maintained a good relationship with both of them. She even moved in with her mother into a cozy apartment on the central west side of the city.
Michelle was an amazingly attractive blond woman, who looked like a young Farrah Fawcett. She was em-ployed as a waitress at a nightclub on West Alabama. Despite working in the club environment, Michelle stayed away from drugs. She was known to throw back a few
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with her girlfriends; however, she usually stayed on top of her game.
Michelle lived with her mother at a town home apartment complex at the 6400 block of Ella Lee Lane, near Hill-croft Street and Westheimer Boulevard. Michelle recently had switched jobs and went to work as a cocktail waitress at the Bull Whip Club, on the Southwest Freeway. On Saturday, May 22, 1982, she asked for the night off so she could celebrate her twentieth birthday with her good friends Linda Rogers and Terry Clark. The three amigas planned to start the night out eating at Judge’s, the same club where Elena Semander had spent her last hours the previous February.
Before Michelle and the girls were to hit the town, she planned on spending the evening with her father. Michelle’s mother left their apartment at 3:30
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. Three hours later, her father showed up and took her to eat at the Great Caruso on Westheimer Boulevard. Michael Maday and his daughter had a wonderful time at dinner. They talked about her job, her friends, and her mother. Michael Maday also talked about the string of murders of young women in Houston. He was concerned for his daughter’s safety. She told him not to worry and that she would be careful.
After dinner Michael and Michelle Maday returned to her apartment at 8:45
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. Her father stayed and chatted for another fifteen to twenty minutes. He could tell she was eager to go out and celebrate her big night with her girlfriends. He kissed her good night, wished her a happy birthday, and saw her for the last time.
Soon after her father left, Michelle piled into her black Camaro and drove over to Linda Rogers’s apartment. The two girls were ecstatic because they were heading out to Le Bare, the hugely popular male strip
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club, on San Felipe Street. The girls arrived at the club at 10:00
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., armed with fistfuls of dollar bills and the desire to party. Their friend Terry Clark had been out of town and met the girls at the club thirty minutes later.
Michelle, Linda, and Terry had a blast. They drank mass quantities of alcohol, danced their butts off, and closed the joint down. Even though it was two in the morning, the girls were not yet ready to call it a night. Michelle and Linda hopped back into her Camaro and headed to Linda’s apartment at the 6000 block of Gulfton Drive. Terry drove over to a nearby grocery store to grab some late-night munchies. The girls did not arrive at Linda’s apartment until almost 3:30
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. Michelle, however, felt she was too worn out and opted out of the late-night dining experience. She stuck around until almost 4:00
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. and decided to head home.
Michelle had no idea that Coral Eugene Watts had spotted her while she was driving and had begun to follow her home. When she arrived at her apartment complex, she parked her car in the street. She did not immediately get out of her car. Watts parked his Grand Prix on the same street and watched her momentarily. He then exited his vehicle and kept his eye on the beautiful, tall, slim young woman.
Watts began to walk toward Michelle’s car when he noticed two young men walking toward him. Watts slowed down his pace and noticed that the girl stayed put in her car. Watts stopped and glanced over at the two men. One man went to the car in front of Michelle, got inside, and drove off. The second man got into a separate car and also drove off. Michelle then got out of her car, which she stood next to as she collected herself. She then stumbled past Watts and toward her apartment, which was close to the street.
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Michelle already had her keys poised as she approached the front door of her downstairs apartment. As she went to insert the key, Watts silently shuffled up behind her. Feeling his presence, she turned around and began to say something to him as he lunged for her neck with his strong hands. He began to squeeze them around her lithe throat. He was too strong for her to struggle.
Watts clutched Michelle’s limp body, unlocked and opened the door, and heaved her inside. He placed her body on the floor of the living room and began to dis-robe Michelle. He first removed her dress, then a necklace, then a ring. Allegedly, she did not wear a bra or panties.
Watts then carried Michelle to her bathroom, where he delicately placed her into the bathtub. He placed her feet under the faucet and her head toward the back of the tub. Watts plugged up the drain with a stopper and reached for the water handles. He began to fill the tub up with water. He let the water run until it engulfed her body. Her wide open eyes stared back at her killer.
Coral Watts would later claim he submerged Michelle Maday in the bathtub water “so that the spirit would not get out.”
After the evil baptism, Watts ventured into his victim’s bedroom. There, he began to unleash his rage. He pulled dresser drawers out and tossed everything inside all across her room. He thrashed around and made a huge mess in the normally well-kept bedroom.
Watts took off with Michelle’s dress, two rings, and a necklace. He later tossed the rings and necklace into a sewer and tossed her dress on the ground.
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Michelle Maday’s body was not discovered until almost 6:00
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. later that day. Her mother, Florence, pulled into their apartment complex’s parking lot as it was raining. She noticed that Michelle’s black Camaro was parked out in the street with the window rolled down. Florence parked her own car and walked to their apartment. She unlocked the front door, slipped inside, and wiped off the raindrops.
“Michelle? Michelle, honey?” she called out. “You need to go and roll up the window to your car.”
No response.
Florence looked around the living room of the apartment. Everything seemed in order. Michelle was always a neat girl. Today was no different. She then walked down the hall and peered into her daughter’s bedroom. It looked like a disaster area, with clothes tossed about carelessly, the closet door was wide open, several drawers were pulled out and rifled through, with most of their contents strewn across the floor.
Florence turned her attention from Michelle’s bedroom back to the hallway, where she noticed a gleam from the corner of her vision. She looked down and saw a pair of scissors lying in the carpet. It was definitely not like her daughter to leave such a mess. She started to worry and picked up her pace as she bolted toward the bathroom. Florence’s heart skipped several beats as she spotted her daughter in the bathtub. Michelle was completely nude except for a bracelet around her wrist and a gold ring on her finger. Her hair was completely wet. She was not breathing. Her mother screamed and rushed to her daughter’s side. She noticed that there was no water in the bathtub; however, there were two soaked towels in the tub with her daughter.
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It was unmistakable. Michelle Maday, Florence Maday’s daughter and best friend, was dead.
The coroner confirmed that Michelle Maday had been either partially strangled or drowned. Coral Watts had knocked her unconscious by choking her with his hands, filled up her bathtub with water, and then proceeded to hold her underwater until she was dead. Dr. Aurelio Espinola, the medical examiner, determined that her killer either had worn gloves or had some type of cloth covering his hands.
Several hours before Florence Maday arrived at home to discover her dead daughter, Coral Eugene Watts had not finished. Less than two hours after he strangled Michelle Maday, Watts’s blood lust had not been satisfied. He returned to his Grand Prix and continued to prowl the northwestern side of Houston. He drove until almost 6:00
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., until he came to a midsized apartment complex on Hammerly Boulevard.
Later that Sunday night, May 23, 1982, after Watts had attacked Lori Lister and Melinda Aguilar, and was subsequently captured, Houston police paid Sheila Williams a visit on Sunnyside Street.
Williams, who had been attending a paralegal course, had a basic understanding of the law. Instead of acquiesc-ing and allowing the search, she demanded that the officers provide her with a warrant. They did not have one.
According to prosecutor Ira L. Jones II, a warrant was secured the following morning. “We got a search warrant and the next day she’d cleared the place out.” He added that there was only “trash and some twisted coat hangers on the floor.”
Jones stated of Williams that she was “extremely uncooperative with police at the time of [Watts’s] arrest. If she had let us in the apartment then, there’s no telling what we might have found—possibly something that belonged to one of the victims.”
Jones gave no explanation as to why the Houston police officers did not have a search warrant on their first attempt to search the apartment.
On May 26, 1982, attorneys Don Caggins and Zinetta
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Burney met Coral Watts in Harris County Jail. Watts’s fiancée, Sheila Williams, hired Caggins after taking the paralegal course with him. Caggins, thirty-one, was born and raised in Mississippi. After college he applied for law school and was accepted at the Thurgood Marshall School of Law at Texas Southern University (TSU), a pre-dominately black school located just south of downtown Houston. It has the unique distinction of being the first Historically Black College and University to house a law school. It is also the home of such distinguished graduates as the late United States congresswoman Barbara Jordan and former congressman George “Mickey” Leland. Caggins joined his distinguished alumni when he graduated from Thurgood Marshall in May 1975.