Gary Hamblet PSU receivers coach from 1972 to ’73 Years later, a reporter from a San Francisco newspaper called me and asked, ‘Do you know a Randall Woodfield? Did you know he’s the I-5 killer?’ I said, ‘That can’t be. “He was the nicest, most gentlemanly kid I ever knew. The I-5 Killer, recalled by his former teammates and coaches
But he also mentioned Woodfield’s glaring deficiency: He didn’t like getting hit. “Randy runs decent routes,” Stratten said with enthusiasm, “and he’s good to the outside.” He spoke positively about the speed that enabled Woodfield to run high hurdles for the school’s track team. But when he asked Stratten for further assessment, the coach wavered. He had been impressed with Woodfield’s hands and athleticism. So on that fall day in 1973, as Ron Stratten sat in the bleachers of Multnomah Stadium-now Providence Park, home to MLS’s Timbers-he chose his words carefully.Īn NFL scout had come to see Randall Woodfield, the Vikings’ leading receiver. But he also knew that if he oversold a player, he’d lose credibility. He wanted to pump up the Portland State program he had just taken over, and placing a guy in the NFL would go a long way toward that.
#REASON 5 SERIAL SERIAL#
Because not long before turning into one of America’s most depraved and remorseless serial killers, Randall Woodfield had been drafted by the Green Bay Packers. But he had his way with them and then snuffed out their lives because he could.Īnd then there’s this small detail, which Garcia shared with detectives and which surfaced again and again across the I-5 Killer’s crimes: He wore what appeared to be a strip of athletic tape over the bridge of his nose, in the manner of a football player at the time. Other times he didn’t know his victims at all. Sometimes they had declined his sexual advances and the killings seemed to be acts of retribution. The I-5 Killer’s victims were mostly from the same subset: petite, Caucasian women in their teens or 20s. And that doesn’t include a string of more than 100 other crimes, mostly robberies and rapes, that bear his hallmarks. Cold case detectives have conservatively put that number at a dozen, though a few journalists and armchair detectives believe he’s responsible for as many as 44 deaths. Many more murders would follow.īased on DNA evidence and advancing crime lab techniques, the I-5 Killer’s body count has climbed through the years. His orgy of violence started in the mid-1970s by the time he’d gotten to Hull and Garcia, he’d already amassed a sizable necrology. Nicknamed the I-5 Killer, he had threaded a trail of almost unspeakable brutality up and down the upper left corner of America, killing in California, Oregon and possibly Washington. Little did she know, this attack was one of many allegedly carried out by the same man she was helping track one of the most notorious serial murderers in U.S.
#REASON 5 SERIAL CRACK#
So the policeman drove on.Ĭomposite witness sketches, circa 1980 (Robert Beck)įor weeks afterward Garcia worked with detectives to crack the case. En route, one officer noticed a thickly built man fitting the assailant’s description standing at an intersection-but this was more than a mile from the attack it would have taken a hell of an athlete to make it that far so quickly on foot. As soon as her attacker left, she called the police. But while Hull died of her gunshot wounds, Garcia survived by feigning her death, lying motionless on the floor with slugs lodged in the back of her skull. This, it would later be revealed, was generally in keeping with his M.O.: some sexual act followed by a.
After sexually assaulting them, he shot them each in the back of the head.
The assailant took both women into a back room and ordered them to the floor. Soon he saw another cleaner, 20-year-old Lisa Garcia.
Corralling Hull with one hand and holding a gun in the other, he walked her down a hall. He was wearing jeans and a leather jacket.
#REASON 5 SERIAL TORRENT#
He was strikingly handsome, maybe six feet tall, blessed with a torrent of thick, curly brown hair and eyes to match. She was preparing to leave when she was grabbed by a man who’d somehow managed to enter the building. 18, 1981, Hull had been nearing the end of her Sunday-night shift, cleaning the TransAmerica office building in the central Oregon town of Keizer. Some time around nine o’clock on the evening of Jan. Gradually her moans and her deep, labored breathing diminished until her body was drained of life. She was surrounded by her discarded clothes. Shari Hull, age 20, lay splayed naked on the floor, blood pooling near her matted hair, brain matter seeping from her skull and spackling the carpet. Even as crime scenes go, this one was sensationally gruesome.
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