“I about cracked up when he said that,” admitted Herndon, “because in context it sounded as if he preferred the ferret over his kid, which of course he didn’t.” Iffrig relented when advised that the ferret was only being taken away “for testing.”
“They didn’t tell me they were going to kill it; they just said they were going to test it. I really liked that little animal, being my pet and all. I haven’t had a ferret since then,” said Tim. “I remember that whole thing, but don’t recall that it was Herndon who was there—I mean I was more concerned about Nicholas and the ferret than I was with the name of the policeman. It was Herndon, you know, who worked so hard on the case when Roxy was taken,” stated Iffrig. “He’s a good cop, and a good guy too. Hell of a nice guy, really.”
Chapter 4
Outgoing and compassionate, Officer Lloyd Herndon’s intended career path led unintentionally to law enforcement. “I never liked cops,” Herndon said. “Ever since I was a kid, I didn’t like cops. I never thought I would be one. My education prepared me for a career in social work. When it was first suggested to me that I apply for a position with the Everett Police Department, my response was negative. That wasn’t what I had in mind as a way of helping those less fortunate than myself.
“Some people struggle all their lives,” he explained. “But I never did. I had it easy. My parents weren’t wealthy, but they owned a business in eastern Washington. When I got my driver’s license, my mom gave me a brand-new car. I went in the service when I was eighteen, and then stayed on unemployment as long as I could. That was my goal—I was gonna party as long as I could until I started college. I went to Edmonds Community College and was working part-time at an auto parts store in north Seattle. The boss was great,” Herndon said. “He said that college was very important and he would give me whatever hours I wanted.”
Herndon went to school on the GI Bill, and earned his degree in social work. “Right after I graduated, the city of Everett was hiring community service officers—a civilian position. I was hired, and there were five of us. After about fifteen months on the job, it was suggested to me that I become a cop. He kept going on and on about it, and finally I went to the mailbox one day and there was an application. The chief of police had been my sergeant at the time I’d been hired. He told me that if I passed the test, I’d be hired.”
Hired, he was. And for nine years, Lloyd Herndon worked patrol. “Then I went right inside, which today is unheard of,” he said. “There were four detectives, and within a year or two, the other three retired. So, all of a sudden, I was the senior detective. That’s when the Doll case was tossed at me.
“My own daughter, Megan, was the same age as Roxanne Doll,” recalled Herndon, “so the entire matter had a lot of emotional impact on me. Actually, it shouldn’t have been my case. It should have been handed over to the Crimes against Children Division. As soon as I realized that I went to Sergeant Stillman, but I was told to handle it. Some of the guys in Crimes against Children were a bit miffed about that I guess.”
From Herndon’s perspective as an experienced police officer, Richard Clark spun his malevolent web of perverted sexuality and intoxicated ill intent, albeit haphazardly, well before the night of March 31.
“You can get a more clear picture of events, and the relationships between these people,” related Herndon, “if you go back to before we got the missing child report on Saturday. When we did our initial investigation, of course, we retraced the steps of everyone involved going back to the previous day and even further.
“The first people we spoke to were the parents, Gail Doll and her husband, Tim Iffrig,” said Herndon. “At first, everyone was a suspect. Following the sequence of events, you get good insight into the lifestyles, relationships, and how Clark ingratiated himself—how he put himself in a position to commit this horrid crime.”
“Richard Clark gave gifts to my children and my mother,” recalled Roxanne’s father. “It was only a couple weeks earlier, on the eighteenth or nineteenth, that Richard Clark came over and mentioned that he had some stuffed animals in his van. He asked my permission to give them to the kids. I said that I didn’t mind, and he handed me three stuffed animals. I handed all three to Roxanne and she gave her brother and sister two to choose between themselves because she picked one out for herself first.”
“He gave me a stuffed raccoon,” recalled Roxanne’s grandmother, Neila D’alexander. “Prior to this, he had given all of the kids Power Ranger toys.”
Neila D’alexander lived with her son, Timothy Michael Iffrig, and his wife, Gail Doll, in a small house just off busy Highway 99 in Everett, Washington. Also in the modest residence were the Doll-Iffrig’s three youngest offspring: Nicholas, Kristena, and Roxanne.
Iffrig, industrious and hardworking, put in long hours at the Howatt Company in Everett making interior mats for Kenworth and Peterbuilt trucks. “I was running a dye press ninety-nine percent of the time,” said Iffrig. “Every now and then, I would have to go back in the glue room and make glue mats for Kenworth and Peterbuilt trucks.”
His workday started at 6:30 A.M. on March 31, 1995. “We were working lots of overtime because we fell behind due to a lack of materials. On that morning, I started an hour early and worked all day.”
At the workday’s end, Iffrig got a lift home from his production supervisor. “Work was just down the road from my house,” said Iffrig. “I got off work about four-ten, so I was home by four-fifteen or four-twenty. When I got home, it was just my mom and the kids and Gail, my wife.”
“Tim was just getting home from work,” recalled Gail, “when I left with my friend Kim Hammond in her car to go walk laps at Cascade High School.”
Tim Iffrig’s after-work itinerary usually consisted of changing clothes and immediately picking up around the house or in the yard. “I’m constantly cleaning around the house. I come home; I go straight to picking up the yard or the house or whatever. So, I was either changing my clothes or cleaning, one of the two, when Richard Clark showed up with his younger half brother, twenty-seven-year-old Jimmy Miller.”
Gail Doll and Kim Hammond walked two or three laps around the Cascade High School track, then came back home. “It must have been between five and five-thirty when I got out of Kim’s car and saw that Richard Clark had arrived in his van. With him was Jimmy Miller. I walked over to the van and talked to Tim, Richard, and Jimmy about the upcoming camping trip,” Gail revealed.
“Richard Clark came by to confirm our plans,” said Iffrig. “While we were standing there talking, Richard suggested that the three of us—me, Jimmy, and him—go up the street to the Amber Light Tavern and shoot a game of pool. I know it was Richard’s idea because it wasn’t mine, and Jimmy was too drunk to think of it.”
Iffrig, the dutiful husband, asked his wife if he could be excused for a game of pool. “Gail told me that unless my mom would watch the kids, I couldn’t go. I asked my mom, but she said no. Then Richard went in and told my mom that he would give her a ride if she would watch the kids while we ran up there to shoot pool.”
Neila D’alexander agreed to watch the kids; Tim Iffrig, Clark, and the inebriated Jimmy clattered off in Clark’s van to the Amber Light Tavern. “It was a bit embarrassing ’cause Jimmy was falling-down slobbering drunk, and the tavern wouldn’t serve him,” remembered Iffrig. “Richard and I shot a quick game of pool and came right back home. The tavern was only about three minutes up the road, so we were not gone very long. When we got back, I ran in and told my mom that Richard was ready to go. She got in the van with Richard and Jimmy and they took off.”
“That was at about six-thirty P.M.,” confirmed Gail Doll. Tim Iffrig spent time relaxing with his wife and kids before he went next door to visit with neighbors Patrick Casey and his female housemate, Shawn Angilley.
“Actually,” recalled