“Right after that, I asked Leisha if she would go to a party with me.” Pressed for the exact date, Todd thought it was on either the thirteenth or the twentieth of May. Although he wasn’t sure of the date, he was certain it was after Leisha told him Scott had left. The party was at the home of one of his friends. Leisha drove over in the yellow Camaro that belonged to Scott. After the party, Leisha said that her taillights were out and asked Burt to follow her to her apartment. They got to her apartment about three or four o’clock in the morning. Todd and Leisha crashed on the couch in the living room. Todd said he had never seen Scott.
After Leisha and Todd had left, English remained at the conference table, feeling tired and frustrated. Nothing in either statement provided any new leads to the whereabouts of Scott Dunn—or Scott Dunn’s body. They felt Todd had only repeated what Leisha had told him, the same things she had told the detectives. The only new item of interest was Todd’s report that he had spent the night with Leisha soon after Scott’s disappearance. If Todd was sure it was a Monday, and he seemed to be, and if he was sure it was after Leisha told him Scott had left, then it would most likely have been Monday, May 20, five days after Scott’s disappearance, the day she had gone to Scott’s workplace and picked up his Camaro, Yellow Thunder.
English shook his head. Even in his line of work, people sometimes amazed him. Leisha’s live-in boyfriend disappeared on a Thursday while she was at work. That night, according to her first conversation with Jim Dunn, another boyfriend, Tim Smith, had spent the night with her. Then on Monday, four days later, she had gone out with yet a third man, who had spent the night with her. What kind of relationship had Leisha Hamilton and Scott Dunn had, anyway? And did it have anything to do with Scott’s disappearance? Whatever had happened in that small bedroom almost a month earlier, English’s gut feeling was that it had been bloody and heinous.
While English and White were questioning Leisha Hamilton and Burt Todd, Sgt. Tomas Esparza and Cpl. Lewis drove to Hamilton’s apartment, where they met Jim Thomas. Thomas made an initial examination of the scene and made a sketch of the area, noting traces of blood around the edge of the cut carpet in the north bedroom and on the carpet padding. He also noted some blood on the concrete underneath the padding. Thomas did some preliminary tests on the blood on the baseboard and the concrete slab, which showed positive for blood. He made note of numerous small droplets on one wall of the bedroom and on the ceiling above these spots. One small stain was on the windowsill, but it tested negative in a presumptive test for blood.
After he had finished examining the bedroom, Thomas tested several stains in the living room area to see if there was any blood, but everything in that room tested negative. There were no stains worth testing in the bathroom—nothing that, to Thomas’s trained eye, indicated the presence of blood.
While Thomas was examining the scene, Lewis took some photographs of the carpeted area, even though he had photographed the scene the previous day. On this day he took all the regular photographs they needed and then he would take laser photos, because once they sprayed the walls with the liquid Luminol the stains would deteriorate and wash from their original consistency and position. He also had to make sure he had collected all the blood samples that would be needed, because the Luminol would destroy any chance of determining the blood type or DNA.
When Lewis had finished photographing the area, the detectives covered the windows with black plastic, plunging the room into total darkness. Lewis loaded a camera with 1600-speed black-and-white film and mounted it on a tripod, so he could leave the shutter open for the laser photos. The laser was a portable high intensity light that could be directed along the area the investigators wanted to search. They would wear special goggles to see what the light source was revealing. When they were ready to turn out the lights and direct the laser toward the stains, the light would cause the stains to glow and the fast shutter speed would be able to capture whatever was on the walls, ceiling and floor of the room. The shutter would be left open for about ten seconds, then Lewis would close it and move on to the next frame.
Under the laser light, the investigators could see some streaking on the walls, as if someone had tried to wash the walls. The light also revealed a set of fingerprints on the wall, only a few inches above the baseboard. No ridged detail could be seen, so the prints were useless to the investigators. Nevertheless, Lewis took photographs of them.
When the laser photography process was completed, Jim Thomas began to spray the wall with Luminol. Again, the room was in total darkness and the camera was on a tripod, using the same film speed and shutter speed. The three men stared in wonder at the sight before them. Their excitement at what they saw was short-lived, however, tempered by the sobering realization that it indicated that someone had been horribly wounded—had probably died—in this room.
“The whole room lit up,” Esparza told English later. “It was unbelievable. It looked like there had been a bloodbath in that room. I mean, it was on the ceiling; it was on the walls; it was in the carpeting, on the doorknobs, everywhere.”
The photographs had the appearance of an impressionist painting, done in velvet black and starshine white. The amount of blood on the walls was difficult to determine, but every swipe of the soapy cloth that had been used in attempting to clean the walls was visible—wide swaths of brilliant white, overlapping each other on a canvas of inky black. Bloody, soapy stains were visible up to a height of about five feet or more and extended horizontally for an equal distance along each wall.
Looking at the photographs the following morning, English and White agreed that the scene pointed to a murder—but they had no body and no suspect. Police statistics indicate that those closest to a murder victim usually have the strongest motive, means and opportunity to commit the crime. At this point, Leisha Hamilton topped their list of suspects. They could see already that the relationship between Scott and Leisha was anything but smooth. Leisha had at least two other boyfriends. Who knew how many more men she had relationships with? There was also the information from Scott’s father that Scott had said he was engaged to another girl, who was in college in Mississippi. English made a mental note to get in touch with the Registrar’s office at the college and see if he could locate the girl. Although the co-ed might not be enrolled in summer school, the university should have a home address and telephone number for her.
The relationship between Scott and Leisha was complicated. Though the detectives concluded that it probably was filled with tension, possibly jealousy and anger, they could see no motive for Leisha to kill Scott. What did she have to gain by killing him? She certainly wouldn’t be living alone if he left her, unless she chose to do so. Men were lined up at her door, apparently just waiting for her to let them in. One of those men, according to Leisha, was Tim Smith.
“Maybe we’d better go talk to Smith,” English suggested.
White nodded. “I’ll drive.”
At the apartment complex, White parked in front of Number 229, where they had been told Tim Smith lived. They knocked on the door and there was no answer. English peered in through a small window and saw that the apartment was empty. An assistant manager told them that Tim had moved to Apartment 107 in the same complex. The new apartment was a two-bedroom unit. “Tim said he needed more room. He intended to provide a place for Leisha Hamilton and her daughter to live,” the manager said.
This was the first the detectives had heard about Leisha’s having a daughter. They exchanged puzzled glances.
At Apartment 107, Tim Smith invited the detectives into the small living room. English explained to Smith that they were looking for Scott Dunn, talking to people who knew the missing man, and they wanted to ask Smith some questions. Smith nodded—rather reluctantly, English thought. While they were talking, English noticed a roll of gray duct tape lying on its side on a bookshelf. English experienced a quick surge of adrenaline. This could be their first solid clue to what happened to Scott Dunn! He said nothing at the time, intending to ask Smith about it before they left.
“Mind if we search your apartment?” White asked.
Smith hesitated, glanced around the room, then wandered from room to room, as if he were making sure there was nothing to be found. Finally,