November 18, 2025 • 25 mins
Reid Carter concludes the Ted Bundy series with his January 24, 1989 execution at Florida State Prison. Bundy spent final night chain-smoking, refusing last meal, meeting with his mother for last time. 7:00 AM: Strapped into Old Sparky—Florida's electric chair. Last words: "Jim and Fred, I'd like you to give my love to my family and friends." 7:16 AM: 2,000 volts sent through his body for one minute. Pronounced dead. Outside prison, crowd of 500 celebrated with signs reading "Burn Bundy Burn" and "Tuesday is Fry-Day." Victims' families watched, some relieved, others still haunted by what he took from them.
Join our new FB groups page here. Take the poll!
Join the Celebrity Trials community on social media! We're building a passionate group of true crime enthusiasts who love diving deep into the most shocking cases in America.
Follow us on Facebook and Instagram by searching "Celebrity Trials Podcast" on either platform.
You'll get exclusive behind-the-scenes content, breaking news updates on cases we're covering, and early alerts when new episodes drop. Our social media is where Reid Carter's hottest takes live, including reactions that don't make it into the show.
But more importantly, it's where YOU come in. Share your theories, debate the verdicts, and connect with fellow listeners who are just as obsessed with justice as you are. Did the jury get it right? What questions do you still have? Your comments and insights often shape future episodes.
We cover the trials that matter, but our community makes the conversation unforgettable. Come for Reid's signature cynical commentary, stay for the incredible discussions with thousands of true crime fans who get it.
Join our new FB groups page here. Take the poll!
Join the Celebrity Trials community on social media! We're building a passionate group of true crime enthusiasts who love diving deep into the most shocking cases in America.
Follow us on Facebook and Instagram by searching "Celebrity Trials Podcast" on either platform.
You'll get exclusive behind-the-scenes content, breaking news updates on cases we're covering, and early alerts when new episodes drop. Our social media is where Reid Carter's hottest takes live, including reactions that don't make it into the show.
But more importantly, it's where YOU come in. Share your theories, debate the verdicts, and connect with fellow listeners who are just as obsessed with justice as you are. Did the jury get it right? What questions do you still have? Your comments and insights often shape future episodes.
We cover the trials that matter, but our community makes the conversation unforgettable. Come for Reid's signature cynical commentary, stay for the incredible discussions with thousands of true crime fans who get it.
Mark as Played
Transcript
Episode Transcript
Available transcripts are automatically generated. Complete accuracy is not guaranteed.
Speaker 1 (00:03):
Callaroga Shark Media, Good morning, I'm reed Carter. November eighteenth,
twenty twenty five. January twenty fourth, nineteen eighty nine, Florida
State Prison, Stark, Florida. Seven am. Theodore Robert Bundy, forty
two years old, was led from his death row cell
(00:25):
to the execution chamber. Walked down the hallway, hands cuffed
behind his back, legs shackled, guards on either side. No
last minute stay, no reprieve from the governor, no miracle,
just death. The execution chamber was small, cinderblock walls painted yellow.
In the center. Old Sparky, Florida's electric chair solid Oak,
(00:49):
built in nineteen twenty three, had executed two hundred thirty
nine people before Ted Bundy. Ted would be number two
hundred forty twenty two. Witnesses sat in chairs behind a
glass window. Victim's families, law enforcement, prosecutors, media, all there
to watch Ted die. Some came for closure, some came
for justice, some came to make sure he was really dead.
(01:10):
Outside the prison, five hundred people gathered, some protesting the
death penalty, most celebrating, holding signs. Burn Bundy. Burn. Tuesday
is Friday. Thank god it's Friday. Vendors selling T shirts.
A carnival atmosphere. People cheered. When the prison lights flickered,
signaled that electricity had been administered. Ted sat in the chair.
(01:35):
Guards strapped his chest, arms, legs, placed a leather mask
over his face, attached electrodes to his head and right leg.
Soaked the sponges in saline solution to conduct electricity more efficiently.
Seven six a m. Superintendent Tom Barton asked Ted if
he had any last words. Ted's voice, muffled by the mask.
(01:58):
Jim and Fred. I'd like you to give my love
to my family and friends. Jim Coleman, Fred Lawrence, his
attorneys the only people Ted acknowledged at the end. Seven
o seven am. The executioner, identity hidden behind a hood,
pulled the switch. Two thousand volts surged through Ted's body
for sixty seconds. His body stiffened, strained against the straps.
(02:22):
Steam rose from the electrodes. The current stopped. Doctor checked
for vital signs. Ted was still alive, heart still beating.
Seven thirteen a m. Second jolt another two thousand volts.
Sixty more seconds. Ted's body convulsed again. More steam smell
(02:43):
of burning flesh filled the chamber seven sixteen a m.
Doctor checked again. No pulse, no heartbeat, no brain activity.
Theodore Robert Bundy was pronounced dead. Outside. The crowd erupted cheer, applause, fireworks,
burn Bundy, burn chants, people hugging, crying, tears of relief. Finally,
(03:07):
after ten years, Ted Bundy was gone. I'm reed, Carter.
This is Celebrity Trials Day four, The execution of Ted
Bundy and the legacy that still haunts America. January twenty third,
nineteen eighty nine, Ted Bundy's last full day alive. Death
(03:28):
warrants set for seven am the following morning. No more appeals,
no more stays, no more delays. Sixteen hours left. Ted
spent the day in his cell Q three South, six
by nine feet, same cell he'd lived in for nine years.
Guards watched him constantly. Suicide Watch. Couldn't let him cheat
(03:48):
the executioner. Ted's mother, Louise visited. She'd flown in from
Washington State, brought his half siblings. They sat in the
visiting room, talked through reinforced glass, picked up the phone.
Last conversation, Louise told reporters later she begged Ted to
tell her the truth asked him directly, did you kill
those women? Ted's answer wasn't recorded, but Louise left crying.
(04:12):
She knew maybe she'd always known, but hearing it from
her son, the boy she raised, the man she defended,
shattered whatever denial she'd maintained. Ted also met with his attorneys,
Jim Coleman and Fred Lawrence, discussed final options. None existed,
the legal system was finished with Theodore Bundy. They talked
(04:33):
about his legacy instead. What he wanted people to know,
what message to leave. Ted wanted people to remember the
pornography angle, to blame society for creating him, to see
him as a cautionary tale, not a monster. His attorneys nodded,
took notes, knew nobody would remember it that way. Reverend
Fred Lawrence stayed with Ted for hours, prayed with him,
(04:56):
read scripture, talked about salvation and forgiveness. Ted said all
the right things, claimed to have accepted Christ asked God's
forgiveness sounded sincere, but Lawrence later admitted he couldn't tell
if Ted truly believed or if it was another performance.
He was so good at mimicking genuine emotion, Lawrence said
years later, even at the end I wasn't sure who
(05:19):
the real Ted was. Ted refused his last meal, didn't
want anything special. Received the standard death row meal instead,
medium rare steak, eggs over easy, hash browns, toast with butter,
and jelly coffee juice. He ate some of it, not
much appetite. Chain smoked cigarettes instead. Prison allowed unlimited cigarettes.
(05:42):
On execution day, Ted smoked constantly, hands shaking. Around midnight,
Ted's attorneys left, prison officials began final preparations. Measured Ted's
head for electrode cap shaved his right leg where the
second electrode would attach. Standard execution protocol necessary for proper
electrical contact. Ted was moved to a holding cell near
(06:06):
the execution chamber, six feet from death. He could hear
workers testing old sparky electric hum, mechanical sounds, guards walking
back and forth, final equipment checks. Two am, Ted tried
to sleep, couldn't too much adrenaline, too much fear. For years,
he'd maintained he wasn't afraid of death, said he welcomed it,
(06:29):
that dying would end his suffering. But when death arrived,
when it was real and imminent, Ted was terrified. Guards
heard him crying, whimpering, talking to himself. The mask slipped,
the charming confident Ted Bundy disappeared. What remained was a scared,
desperate man who knew he was about to die painfully.
(06:49):
Six a m. Guards came for Ted time to prepare,
gave him a fresh set of clothes khaki shirt and pants,
new underwear, socks, slippers. Every would be burned after the execution,
contaminated by death. Ted dressed slowly, hands trembling. Guards watched
made sure he didn't try anything. Some condemned men fight
(07:11):
at the end, try to hurt themselves, or guards force
the execution to be delayed. Ted didn't fight, just moved
like a zombie, mechanical defeated. Six thirty am. Superintendent Tom
Barton visited Ted's holding cell, asked if he had any
final requests. Ted asked to speak to his attorneys one
more time. Coleman and Lawrence came. Ten minute conversation. Ted
(07:35):
gave them messages for his mother, for Carol Anne boone
for his daughter Rosa. Asked them to make sure Rosa
knew he loved her, that he was sorry, that she
shouldn't be defined by his crimes. Six forty five am,
witnesses began filing into the execution chamber twenty two seats.
Twenty two people chosen to watch Ted die. Victim's families
(07:58):
Jerry Blair, brother of Lynda Anne Healy, Carol Deranch, the
woman who escaped Ted's abduction attempt in nineteen seventy four,
the only living victim families of Margaret Bowman and Lisa Levy,
families of other confirmed victims. Law enforcement Bob Keppel from Washington,
Jerry Thompson from Utah, Mike Fisher from Colorado, Detectives who'd
(08:20):
hunted Ted for years, who'd interviewed him, who'd gotten confessions,
all there to see the end. Prosecutors Larry Simpson, who
convicted Ted, and Florida Dan McKeever, Others who'd built cases
against him. Media reporters from major newspapers, television networks, journalists
who'd covered Ted's trials, who'd interviewed him, who'd made him famous,
(08:43):
All sitting in rows behind glass, watching an empty chair,
waiting for Theodore Bundy. Six fifty five am guards entered
Ted cell. It's time. Ted stood, hands cuffed behind his back,
legs shackled, walked from the holding cell toward the execution chamber.
Twenty feet longest walk of his life. The door opened,
(09:07):
Ted saw old, sparky, solid oak chair, brown, leather straps,
metal electrodes, death waiting. He hesitated. Guards pushed him forward.
Ted shuffled toward the chair, sat down. Guards immediately began
strapping him in chest strap, arm straps, leg straps tight,
no movement possible. Attached electrodes one to his shaved head,
(09:30):
metal cap with wet sponge inside, conductor for electricity. One
to his right calf. Copper electrode, also with wet sponge.
Electricity would enter through his head, exit through his leg.
Cook him from inside, placed leather mask over his face,
chin strap secured. Ted could see witnesses through small eye holes.
Saw familiar faces Carol de Ranch, detectives, prosecutors, people who'd
(09:56):
spent years trying to stop him, now watching him die.
Seven o six am. Superintendent Barton, Theodore Robert Bundy. Do
you have any last words? Ted's voice muffled, Jim and Fred.
I'd like you to give my love to my family
and friends. That was it. No apology to victims, no remorse,
(10:18):
no acknowledgment of the women he'd murdered, just a message
to his attorneys to his family, about himself. Classic Ted Bundy,
self centered until the last breath. Barton nodded to the executioner,
hidden behind a partition, anonymous wearing a hood, hand on
the switch. Seven o seven am. The switch flipped. Two
(10:41):
thousand volts surged through Ted's body. His hands clenched, body
went rigid, strained against leather straps, head pushed back, leg flexed.
Smoke rose from the electrodes, smell of burning flesh, sizzling sound.
Sixty seconds, the longest minute of Ted Bundy's life. Every
nerve on fire, brain shutting down, heart trying to beat
(11:04):
against electrical assault, body dying, current stopped. Doctor approached, checked
vital signs, pulse present, weak, but there. Ted survived the
first jolt seven thirteen am. Second jolt, another two thousand volts.
Ted's body convulsed again, more violent, this time, more smoke,
(11:25):
more smell. Witnesses covered their noses, some looked away, others stared,
watched Ted die. Current stopped again. Doctor checked, no pulse,
no respiration, no corneal reflex, no response to pain stimuli.
Seven sixteen am. Doctor turned to Superintendent Barton. This man
(11:50):
is dead. Theodore Robert Bundy dead at forty two, executed
by the State of Florida for the murders of Margaret
and Lisa Levy, suspected of killing at least thirty more women,
probably many more than that. Guards removed the electrodes, unbuckled
the straps. Ted's body slumped, skin red and blistered where
(12:13):
electricity had burned him. Face contorted, eyes open behind the
mask death mask of a serial killer. Witnesses filed out,
some crying, some stone faced. Carol Deranch told reporters, I'm
relieved it's finally over. He can't hurt anyone else. Jerry Blair,
(12:34):
Linda Ann Healey's brother. This doesn't bring Linda back, but
at least he's gone. At least he can't kill anyone
else's sister. Outside the prison, the crowd erupted when news
spread Ted was dead. Signs waved, burn Bundy, burn chants, fireworks,
people hugging, celebrating a festival of death. Some people were
(12:57):
disgusted by the celebration, thought it was in appropriate, disrespectful.
Death penalty opponents used the footage to argue against executions.
Look at this bloodthirsty mob. This is what capital punishment creates.
But victim's families didn't see it that way. They saw justice.
After ten years of appeals, ten years of Ted giving interviews,
(13:19):
ten years of him manipulating the system, he was finally gone,
finally silent, finally couldn't hurt anyone. Louise Bundy, Ted's mother,
released a statement. I loved my son, I always will,
but I understand why this had to happen. I pray
for the victim's families. I pray they find peace. Carol
(13:40):
Anne Boone never commented. She divorced Ted, disappeared with rosa.
Wanted nothing to do with his execution or his legacy.
Ted's body was cremated, ashes spread in Washington's Cascade Mountains.
His request. Wanted to return to the place where he'd
killed his first victims, even in death, claiming them, possessing
(14:02):
them his forever. Make it make sense, We'll be right
back with Ted Bundy's legacy. Why we're still talking about
him thirty six years after his death, and what his
case taught us about serial killers. January twenty fourth, nineteen
(14:31):
eighty nine. Ted Bundy died, but his impact didn't. Thirty
six years later, we're still talking about him, still making
documentaries still writing books, still analyzing what made him tick why.
Part of it is the sheer horror at least thirty
confirmed murders, probably many more, the brutality, the necrophilia, keeping
(14:54):
severed heads as trophies, returning to corpses for sex. It's incomprehensible.
We study it trying to understand it. Part of it
is the facade. Ted wasn't a monster on the surface.
He was handsome, charming, educated law student, political volunteer, crisis
hotline counselor the kind of man parents wanted their daughters
(15:15):
to date. That's terrifying. Evil doesn't always look evil. Sometimes
it looks like the boy next door. Part of it
is the system failures. Nineteen seventy five, arrested with a
rape kit in his car, released on bail, kept killing,
nineteen seventy seven, escaped from custody twice, kept killing. The
system had multiple chances to stop him, didn't. Women died
(15:39):
because police, courts, and prisons failed. But mostly we keep
talking about Ted Bundy because he changed how we understand
serial killers. Before Ted, the public image of serial killers
was monsters, social outcasts, obvious creeps. Men like ed Gean
who lived in isolated farmhouses, men like Albert at Fish
(16:00):
who looked disturbed. Ted shattered that image. He was successful, attractive,
socially skilled. He dated women, had friends, worked normal jobs,
fit into society seamlessly. Nobody suspected him because he didn't
fit the profile. FBI profiler Robert Wrestler interviewed Ted extensively,
(16:23):
use those interviews to develop modern criminal profiling techniques. Ted
helped law enforcement understand organize serial killers, killers who plan meticulously,
who blend in, who manipulate and deceive, who target strangers
without obvious motive. Ted taught investigators to look for patterns,
similar victim types, similar methods, similar disposal sites, to connect
(16:47):
seemingly unrelated cases across jurisdictions. Before Ted, police departments didn't
communicate well, didn't share information, didn't realize the same killer
might be operating in multiple states. After Ted, everything changed.
VCaP Violent Criminal Apprehension Program was created, national database for
(17:10):
tracking violent offenders, cross jurisdictional communication improved. Serial killer task
forces formed all because of lessons learned from Ted Bundy.
But Ted's legacy isn't just investigative techniques. It's cultural. He
was the first serial killer to become a celebrity, the
first to give TV interviews, the first to defend himself
(17:30):
in a televised trial, the first to marry his girlfriend
in court, the first to manipulate media so effectively that
some people still defend him even today. Ted has fans,
women who write him love letters posthumously, people who create
fan art, social media accounts dedicated to him. True crime
enthusiasts who romanticize him, call him attractive, excuse his crimes
(17:54):
because he was charming. This is dangerous, glamorizing serial killers,
making the famous, giving them platforms, creating entertainment from their atrocities,
focusing on the killer instead of the victims. We know
Ted Bundy's life story, his childhood, his relationships, his methods,
his trial, his execution. We know everything about him. But
(18:16):
do we know Linda Ann Healy wanted to be a
radio announcer, that she loved skiing and had just started
her career, that her family waited forty five years for justice.
Do we know georgi Enn Hawkins was planning her wedding,
that she had fifty feet to walk to safety, that
her fiance heard she disappeared and spent the rest of
his life wondering if he could have saved her. Do
(18:37):
we know Margaret Bowman wanted to go to law school,
That she was brilliant, kind, full of dreams, That her
mother Eleanor, spent thirty years visiting her grave every week.
Do we know Lisa Levy loved to dance, that she
performed in university productions, that she wanted to teach dance
to children, That she died because Ted bit her so
(18:58):
hard he left a permanent mark. We remember the monster,
we forget the people he destroyed. That's Ted Bundy's real legacy.
Not the crimes, not the trials, not the execution, but
our obsession with him, our fascination with evil, our tendency
to make killers famous while forgetting victim's names. The families
(19:19):
tried to change this. Jerry Blair, Linda Ann Healey's brother,
spent decades advocating for victim's rights, testified before Congress, helped
pass legislation giving victims families more participation in trials and
parole hearings. Carol Deranch became an advocate for women's safety,
taught self defense classes, spoke at universities about trusting instincts,
(19:44):
about fighting back, about surviving. Kathy Kleiner and Karen Chandler,
the chi Omega survivors, eventually spoke publicly about their experiences
decades later, after years of therapy. They wanted people to
understand and the permanent damage Ted caused physical scars, emotional scars, PTSD, nightmares,
(20:07):
fear that never goes away. People think about the women
who died, Cathy said in an interview, but they forget
about those of us who survived. We live with this
every day. The fear, the pain, the knowledge that we
were targeted by a monster and barely escaped. These are
the voices that matter, the survivors, the families, the people
(20:28):
who live through Ted Bundy's evil and have to keep
living with the aftermath. But media doesn't always focus on them.
Media focuses on Ted because he's more interesting, more compelling,
better for ratings. True crime podcasts dissect his psychology. Netflix
makes limited series dramatizing his murders. Zac Efron plays him
(20:50):
in a movie, making him look heroic, misunderstood, sympathetic. Victim's
families protested that movie, said it glorified Ted, made him
look attractive, He made young people curious about him in
dangerous ways. The filmmakers defended it, said they were showing
how Ted fooled people, how he used his appearance to manipulate.
But the impact was the same, more Ted worship, more
(21:13):
fascination with a killer. Meanwhile, who's making movies about Linda
Ann Healy, about Margaret Bowman, about Lisa Levy? Nobody? Because
victims aren't as interesting as killers. Society would rather study
evil than honor goodness. This is what frustrates me about
true crime as entertainment, as an industry, as a cultural phenomenon.
(21:33):
We've turned murder into content, made suffering into spectacle, given
killers exactly what they wanted, fame, attention, immortality. Ted died
(21:54):
in nineteen eighty nine, but he's more famous now than
when he was alive. More books, more documentaries, more social
media posts, more people who know his name than know
his victims' names. That's not justice, that's elevation. We've elevated
a serial killer to cultural icon status, made him memorable, quotable,
referenced in pop culture. Don't be like Ted Bundy has
(22:17):
become a joke, a meme, casual reference to extreme evil,
as if thirty Dead Women is funny. It's not funny.
It's tragedy, pure tragedy. So what do we do? How
do we study serial killers without glorifying them? How do
we learn from cases without giving killers fame? We center victims,
We say their names, we tell their stories. We remind
(22:40):
people these weren't just Ted Bundy's victims. They were daughters, sisters, friends, students, workers,
people with dreams and futures, and families who love them.
We stop making killers famous, stop giving them nicknames, stop
focusing on their psychology and methods, start focusing on the
damn they caused, the lives they destroyed, the families still
(23:04):
suffering decades later. We support victims' families, listen to them,
advocate for them, give them platforms, let them tell their stories,
honor their loved ones memories, and we remember serial killers
are cowards. They target vulnerable people, people weaker than them,
people who trust them. There's nothing impressive about that, nothing fascinating,
(23:27):
nothing worthy of study, beyond understanding how to catch them faster.
Ted Bundy was a coward who murdered women because he
was angry at an ex girlfriend. That's it. That's the
whole story. Everything else, the charm, the intelligence, the law school,
the trials, is just decoration on a simple, pathetic truth.
He died thirty six years ago, screaming, burning, terrified, and
(23:51):
the world became safer. Someone has to say the victim's names.
Someone has to remember they were people, not just casualties
of Ted Bundy. They had lives, dreams, people who loved them,
futures that should have happened. That's the legacy that matters.
That's our Ted Bundy series, four days covering one of
(24:14):
America's most notorious serial killers. At least thirty confirmed victims,
women with names, faces, families, Linda Ann Healy, Donna Gale Manson,
Susan Rancourt, George Anne Hawkins, Janis Ott, Denise Nasland, Margaret Bowman,
Lisa Levy, Kimberly Leech, and so many more whose names
(24:36):
will never know. January twenty fourth, nineteen eighty nine, Ted
Bundy died in Florida's Electric Chair. The world became a
safer place, the families got justice, and the killing finally stopped.
Tomorrow we begin our three day series on the Manson
(24:56):
family murders. The night that ended the nineteen sixties, Charonate
and four others murdered in Benedict Canyon the LaBianca murders
the next night, and the trial that put Charles Manson
and his followers on death row. I'm reed, Carter. This
is celebrity trials.
Callaroga Shark Media, Good morning, I'm reed Carter. November eighteenth,
twenty twenty five. January twenty fourth, nineteen eighty nine, Florida
State Prison, Stark, Florida. Seven am. Theodore Robert Bundy, forty
two years old, was led from his death row cell
(00:25):
to the execution chamber. Walked down the hallway, hands cuffed
behind his back, legs shackled, guards on either side. No
last minute stay, no reprieve from the governor, no miracle,
just death. The execution chamber was small, cinderblock walls painted yellow.
In the center. Old Sparky, Florida's electric chair solid Oak,
(00:49):
built in nineteen twenty three, had executed two hundred thirty
nine people before Ted Bundy. Ted would be number two
hundred forty twenty two. Witnesses sat in chairs behind a
glass window. Victim's families, law enforcement, prosecutors, media, all there
to watch Ted die. Some came for closure, some came
for justice, some came to make sure he was really dead.
(01:10):
Outside the prison, five hundred people gathered, some protesting the
death penalty, most celebrating, holding signs. Burn Bundy. Burn. Tuesday
is Friday. Thank god it's Friday. Vendors selling T shirts.
A carnival atmosphere. People cheered. When the prison lights flickered,
signaled that electricity had been administered. Ted sat in the chair.
(01:35):
Guards strapped his chest, arms, legs, placed a leather mask
over his face, attached electrodes to his head and right leg.
Soaked the sponges in saline solution to conduct electricity more efficiently.
Seven six a m. Superintendent Tom Barton asked Ted if
he had any last words. Ted's voice, muffled by the mask.
(01:58):
Jim and Fred. I'd like you to give my love
to my family and friends. Jim Coleman, Fred Lawrence, his
attorneys the only people Ted acknowledged at the end. Seven
o seven am. The executioner, identity hidden behind a hood,
pulled the switch. Two thousand volts surged through Ted's body
for sixty seconds. His body stiffened, strained against the straps.
(02:22):
Steam rose from the electrodes. The current stopped. Doctor checked
for vital signs. Ted was still alive, heart still beating.
Seven thirteen a m. Second jolt another two thousand volts.
Sixty more seconds. Ted's body convulsed again. More steam smell
(02:43):
of burning flesh filled the chamber seven sixteen a m.
Doctor checked again. No pulse, no heartbeat, no brain activity.
Theodore Robert Bundy was pronounced dead. Outside. The crowd erupted cheer, applause, fireworks,
burn Bundy, burn chants, people hugging, crying, tears of relief. Finally,
(03:07):
after ten years, Ted Bundy was gone. I'm reed, Carter.
This is Celebrity Trials Day four, The execution of Ted
Bundy and the legacy that still haunts America. January twenty third,
nineteen eighty nine, Ted Bundy's last full day alive. Death
(03:28):
warrants set for seven am the following morning. No more appeals,
no more stays, no more delays. Sixteen hours left. Ted
spent the day in his cell Q three South, six
by nine feet, same cell he'd lived in for nine years.
Guards watched him constantly. Suicide Watch. Couldn't let him cheat
(03:48):
the executioner. Ted's mother, Louise visited. She'd flown in from
Washington State, brought his half siblings. They sat in the
visiting room, talked through reinforced glass, picked up the phone.
Last conversation, Louise told reporters later she begged Ted to
tell her the truth asked him directly, did you kill
those women? Ted's answer wasn't recorded, but Louise left crying.
(04:12):
She knew maybe she'd always known, but hearing it from
her son, the boy she raised, the man she defended,
shattered whatever denial she'd maintained. Ted also met with his attorneys,
Jim Coleman and Fred Lawrence, discussed final options. None existed,
the legal system was finished with Theodore Bundy. They talked
(04:33):
about his legacy instead. What he wanted people to know,
what message to leave. Ted wanted people to remember the
pornography angle, to blame society for creating him, to see
him as a cautionary tale, not a monster. His attorneys nodded,
took notes, knew nobody would remember it that way. Reverend
Fred Lawrence stayed with Ted for hours, prayed with him,
(04:56):
read scripture, talked about salvation and forgiveness. Ted said all
the right things, claimed to have accepted Christ asked God's
forgiveness sounded sincere, but Lawrence later admitted he couldn't tell
if Ted truly believed or if it was another performance.
He was so good at mimicking genuine emotion, Lawrence said
years later, even at the end I wasn't sure who
(05:19):
the real Ted was. Ted refused his last meal, didn't
want anything special. Received the standard death row meal instead,
medium rare steak, eggs over easy, hash browns, toast with butter,
and jelly coffee juice. He ate some of it, not
much appetite. Chain smoked cigarettes instead. Prison allowed unlimited cigarettes.
(05:42):
On execution day, Ted smoked constantly, hands shaking. Around midnight,
Ted's attorneys left, prison officials began final preparations. Measured Ted's
head for electrode cap shaved his right leg where the
second electrode would attach. Standard execution protocol necessary for proper
electrical contact. Ted was moved to a holding cell near
(06:06):
the execution chamber, six feet from death. He could hear
workers testing old sparky electric hum, mechanical sounds, guards walking
back and forth, final equipment checks. Two am, Ted tried
to sleep, couldn't too much adrenaline, too much fear. For years,
he'd maintained he wasn't afraid of death, said he welcomed it,
(06:29):
that dying would end his suffering. But when death arrived,
when it was real and imminent, Ted was terrified. Guards
heard him crying, whimpering, talking to himself. The mask slipped,
the charming confident Ted Bundy disappeared. What remained was a scared,
desperate man who knew he was about to die painfully.
(06:49):
Six a m. Guards came for Ted time to prepare,
gave him a fresh set of clothes khaki shirt and pants,
new underwear, socks, slippers. Every would be burned after the execution,
contaminated by death. Ted dressed slowly, hands trembling. Guards watched
made sure he didn't try anything. Some condemned men fight
(07:11):
at the end, try to hurt themselves, or guards force
the execution to be delayed. Ted didn't fight, just moved
like a zombie, mechanical defeated. Six thirty am. Superintendent Tom
Barton visited Ted's holding cell, asked if he had any
final requests. Ted asked to speak to his attorneys one
more time. Coleman and Lawrence came. Ten minute conversation. Ted
(07:35):
gave them messages for his mother, for Carol Anne boone
for his daughter Rosa. Asked them to make sure Rosa
knew he loved her, that he was sorry, that she
shouldn't be defined by his crimes. Six forty five am,
witnesses began filing into the execution chamber twenty two seats.
Twenty two people chosen to watch Ted die. Victim's families
(07:58):
Jerry Blair, brother of Lynda Anne Healy, Carol Deranch, the
woman who escaped Ted's abduction attempt in nineteen seventy four,
the only living victim families of Margaret Bowman and Lisa Levy,
families of other confirmed victims. Law enforcement Bob Keppel from Washington,
Jerry Thompson from Utah, Mike Fisher from Colorado, Detectives who'd
(08:20):
hunted Ted for years, who'd interviewed him, who'd gotten confessions,
all there to see the end. Prosecutors Larry Simpson, who
convicted Ted, and Florida Dan McKeever, Others who'd built cases
against him. Media reporters from major newspapers, television networks, journalists
who'd covered Ted's trials, who'd interviewed him, who'd made him famous,
(08:43):
All sitting in rows behind glass, watching an empty chair,
waiting for Theodore Bundy. Six fifty five am guards entered
Ted cell. It's time. Ted stood, hands cuffed behind his back,
legs shackled, walked from the holding cell toward the execution chamber.
Twenty feet longest walk of his life. The door opened,
(09:07):
Ted saw old, sparky, solid oak chair, brown, leather straps,
metal electrodes, death waiting. He hesitated. Guards pushed him forward.
Ted shuffled toward the chair, sat down. Guards immediately began
strapping him in chest strap, arm straps, leg straps tight,
no movement possible. Attached electrodes one to his shaved head,
(09:30):
metal cap with wet sponge inside, conductor for electricity. One
to his right calf. Copper electrode, also with wet sponge.
Electricity would enter through his head, exit through his leg.
Cook him from inside, placed leather mask over his face,
chin strap secured. Ted could see witnesses through small eye holes.
Saw familiar faces Carol de Ranch, detectives, prosecutors, people who'd
(09:56):
spent years trying to stop him, now watching him die.
Seven o six am. Superintendent Barton, Theodore Robert Bundy. Do
you have any last words? Ted's voice muffled, Jim and Fred.
I'd like you to give my love to my family
and friends. That was it. No apology to victims, no remorse,
(10:18):
no acknowledgment of the women he'd murdered, just a message
to his attorneys to his family, about himself. Classic Ted Bundy,
self centered until the last breath. Barton nodded to the executioner,
hidden behind a partition, anonymous wearing a hood, hand on
the switch. Seven o seven am. The switch flipped. Two
(10:41):
thousand volts surged through Ted's body. His hands clenched, body
went rigid, strained against leather straps, head pushed back, leg flexed.
Smoke rose from the electrodes, smell of burning flesh, sizzling sound.
Sixty seconds, the longest minute of Ted Bundy's life. Every
nerve on fire, brain shutting down, heart trying to beat
(11:04):
against electrical assault, body dying, current stopped. Doctor approached, checked
vital signs, pulse present, weak, but there. Ted survived the
first jolt seven thirteen am. Second jolt, another two thousand volts.
Ted's body convulsed again, more violent, this time, more smoke,
(11:25):
more smell. Witnesses covered their noses, some looked away, others stared,
watched Ted die. Current stopped again. Doctor checked, no pulse,
no respiration, no corneal reflex, no response to pain stimuli.
Seven sixteen am. Doctor turned to Superintendent Barton. This man
(11:50):
is dead. Theodore Robert Bundy dead at forty two, executed
by the State of Florida for the murders of Margaret
and Lisa Levy, suspected of killing at least thirty more women,
probably many more than that. Guards removed the electrodes, unbuckled
the straps. Ted's body slumped, skin red and blistered where
(12:13):
electricity had burned him. Face contorted, eyes open behind the
mask death mask of a serial killer. Witnesses filed out,
some crying, some stone faced. Carol Deranch told reporters, I'm
relieved it's finally over. He can't hurt anyone else. Jerry Blair,
(12:34):
Linda Ann Healey's brother. This doesn't bring Linda back, but
at least he's gone. At least he can't kill anyone
else's sister. Outside the prison, the crowd erupted when news
spread Ted was dead. Signs waved, burn Bundy, burn chants, fireworks,
people hugging, celebrating a festival of death. Some people were
(12:57):
disgusted by the celebration, thought it was in appropriate, disrespectful.
Death penalty opponents used the footage to argue against executions.
Look at this bloodthirsty mob. This is what capital punishment creates.
But victim's families didn't see it that way. They saw justice.
After ten years of appeals, ten years of Ted giving interviews,
(13:19):
ten years of him manipulating the system, he was finally gone,
finally silent, finally couldn't hurt anyone. Louise Bundy, Ted's mother,
released a statement. I loved my son, I always will,
but I understand why this had to happen. I pray
for the victim's families. I pray they find peace. Carol
(13:40):
Anne Boone never commented. She divorced Ted, disappeared with rosa.
Wanted nothing to do with his execution or his legacy.
Ted's body was cremated, ashes spread in Washington's Cascade Mountains.
His request. Wanted to return to the place where he'd
killed his first victims, even in death, claiming them, possessing
(14:02):
them his forever. Make it make sense, We'll be right
back with Ted Bundy's legacy. Why we're still talking about
him thirty six years after his death, and what his
case taught us about serial killers. January twenty fourth, nineteen
(14:31):
eighty nine. Ted Bundy died, but his impact didn't. Thirty
six years later, we're still talking about him, still making
documentaries still writing books, still analyzing what made him tick why.
Part of it is the sheer horror at least thirty
confirmed murders, probably many more, the brutality, the necrophilia, keeping
(14:54):
severed heads as trophies, returning to corpses for sex. It's incomprehensible.
We study it trying to understand it. Part of it
is the facade. Ted wasn't a monster on the surface.
He was handsome, charming, educated law student, political volunteer, crisis
hotline counselor the kind of man parents wanted their daughters
(15:15):
to date. That's terrifying. Evil doesn't always look evil. Sometimes
it looks like the boy next door. Part of it
is the system failures. Nineteen seventy five, arrested with a
rape kit in his car, released on bail, kept killing,
nineteen seventy seven, escaped from custody twice, kept killing. The
system had multiple chances to stop him, didn't. Women died
(15:39):
because police, courts, and prisons failed. But mostly we keep
talking about Ted Bundy because he changed how we understand
serial killers. Before Ted, the public image of serial killers
was monsters, social outcasts, obvious creeps. Men like ed Gean
who lived in isolated farmhouses, men like Albert at Fish
(16:00):
who looked disturbed. Ted shattered that image. He was successful, attractive,
socially skilled. He dated women, had friends, worked normal jobs,
fit into society seamlessly. Nobody suspected him because he didn't
fit the profile. FBI profiler Robert Wrestler interviewed Ted extensively,
(16:23):
use those interviews to develop modern criminal profiling techniques. Ted
helped law enforcement understand organize serial killers, killers who plan meticulously,
who blend in, who manipulate and deceive, who target strangers
without obvious motive. Ted taught investigators to look for patterns,
similar victim types, similar methods, similar disposal sites, to connect
(16:47):
seemingly unrelated cases across jurisdictions. Before Ted, police departments didn't
communicate well, didn't share information, didn't realize the same killer
might be operating in multiple states. After Ted, everything changed.
VCaP Violent Criminal Apprehension Program was created, national database for
(17:10):
tracking violent offenders, cross jurisdictional communication improved. Serial killer task
forces formed all because of lessons learned from Ted Bundy.
But Ted's legacy isn't just investigative techniques. It's cultural. He
was the first serial killer to become a celebrity, the
first to give TV interviews, the first to defend himself
(17:30):
in a televised trial, the first to marry his girlfriend
in court, the first to manipulate media so effectively that
some people still defend him even today. Ted has fans,
women who write him love letters posthumously, people who create
fan art, social media accounts dedicated to him. True crime
enthusiasts who romanticize him, call him attractive, excuse his crimes
(17:54):
because he was charming. This is dangerous, glamorizing serial killers,
making the famous, giving them platforms, creating entertainment from their atrocities,
focusing on the killer instead of the victims. We know
Ted Bundy's life story, his childhood, his relationships, his methods,
his trial, his execution. We know everything about him. But
(18:16):
do we know Linda Ann Healy wanted to be a
radio announcer, that she loved skiing and had just started
her career, that her family waited forty five years for justice.
Do we know georgi Enn Hawkins was planning her wedding,
that she had fifty feet to walk to safety, that
her fiance heard she disappeared and spent the rest of
his life wondering if he could have saved her. Do
(18:37):
we know Margaret Bowman wanted to go to law school,
That she was brilliant, kind, full of dreams, That her
mother Eleanor, spent thirty years visiting her grave every week.
Do we know Lisa Levy loved to dance, that she
performed in university productions, that she wanted to teach dance
to children, That she died because Ted bit her so
(18:58):
hard he left a permanent mark. We remember the monster,
we forget the people he destroyed. That's Ted Bundy's real legacy.
Not the crimes, not the trials, not the execution, but
our obsession with him, our fascination with evil, our tendency
to make killers famous while forgetting victim's names. The families
(19:19):
tried to change this. Jerry Blair, Linda Ann Healey's brother,
spent decades advocating for victim's rights, testified before Congress, helped
pass legislation giving victims families more participation in trials and
parole hearings. Carol Deranch became an advocate for women's safety,
taught self defense classes, spoke at universities about trusting instincts,
(19:44):
about fighting back, about surviving. Kathy Kleiner and Karen Chandler,
the chi Omega survivors, eventually spoke publicly about their experiences
decades later, after years of therapy. They wanted people to
understand and the permanent damage Ted caused physical scars, emotional scars, PTSD, nightmares,
(20:07):
fear that never goes away. People think about the women
who died, Cathy said in an interview, but they forget
about those of us who survived. We live with this
every day. The fear, the pain, the knowledge that we
were targeted by a monster and barely escaped. These are
the voices that matter, the survivors, the families, the people
(20:28):
who live through Ted Bundy's evil and have to keep
living with the aftermath. But media doesn't always focus on them.
Media focuses on Ted because he's more interesting, more compelling,
better for ratings. True crime podcasts dissect his psychology. Netflix
makes limited series dramatizing his murders. Zac Efron plays him
(20:50):
in a movie, making him look heroic, misunderstood, sympathetic. Victim's
families protested that movie, said it glorified Ted, made him
look attractive, He made young people curious about him in
dangerous ways. The filmmakers defended it, said they were showing
how Ted fooled people, how he used his appearance to manipulate.
But the impact was the same, more Ted worship, more
(21:13):
fascination with a killer. Meanwhile, who's making movies about Linda
Ann Healy, about Margaret Bowman, about Lisa Levy? Nobody? Because
victims aren't as interesting as killers. Society would rather study
evil than honor goodness. This is what frustrates me about
true crime as entertainment, as an industry, as a cultural phenomenon.
(21:33):
We've turned murder into content, made suffering into spectacle, given
killers exactly what they wanted, fame, attention, immortality. Ted died
(21:54):
in nineteen eighty nine, but he's more famous now than
when he was alive. More books, more documentaries, more social
media posts, more people who know his name than know
his victims' names. That's not justice, that's elevation. We've elevated
a serial killer to cultural icon status, made him memorable, quotable,
referenced in pop culture. Don't be like Ted Bundy has
(22:17):
become a joke, a meme, casual reference to extreme evil,
as if thirty Dead Women is funny. It's not funny.
It's tragedy, pure tragedy. So what do we do? How
do we study serial killers without glorifying them? How do
we learn from cases without giving killers fame? We center victims,
We say their names, we tell their stories. We remind
(22:40):
people these weren't just Ted Bundy's victims. They were daughters, sisters, friends, students, workers,
people with dreams and futures, and families who love them.
We stop making killers famous, stop giving them nicknames, stop
focusing on their psychology and methods, start focusing on the
damn they caused, the lives they destroyed, the families still
(23:04):
suffering decades later. We support victims' families, listen to them,
advocate for them, give them platforms, let them tell their stories,
honor their loved ones memories, and we remember serial killers
are cowards. They target vulnerable people, people weaker than them,
people who trust them. There's nothing impressive about that, nothing fascinating,
(23:27):
nothing worthy of study, beyond understanding how to catch them faster.
Ted Bundy was a coward who murdered women because he
was angry at an ex girlfriend. That's it. That's the
whole story. Everything else, the charm, the intelligence, the law school,
the trials, is just decoration on a simple, pathetic truth.
He died thirty six years ago, screaming, burning, terrified, and
(23:51):
the world became safer. Someone has to say the victim's names.
Someone has to remember they were people, not just casualties
of Ted Bundy. They had lives, dreams, people who loved them,
futures that should have happened. That's the legacy that matters.
That's our Ted Bundy series, four days covering one of
(24:14):
America's most notorious serial killers. At least thirty confirmed victims,
women with names, faces, families, Linda Ann Healy, Donna Gale Manson,
Susan Rancourt, George Anne Hawkins, Janis Ott, Denise Nasland, Margaret Bowman,
Lisa Levy, Kimberly Leech, and so many more whose names
(24:36):
will never know. January twenty fourth, nineteen eighty nine, Ted
Bundy died in Florida's Electric Chair. The world became a
safer place, the families got justice, and the killing finally stopped.
Tomorrow we begin our three day series on the Manson
(24:56):
family murders. The night that ended the nineteen sixties, Charonate
and four others murdered in Benedict Canyon the LaBianca murders
the next night, and the trial that put Charles Manson
and his followers on death row. I'm reed, Carter. This
is celebrity trials.
Popular Podcasts
Dateline NBC
Current and classic episodes, featuring compelling true-crime mysteries, powerful documentaries and in-depth investigations. Follow now to get the latest episodes of Dateline NBC completely free, or subscribe to Dateline Premium for ad-free listening and exclusive bonus content: DatelinePremium.com
Are You A Charlotte?
In 1997, actress Kristin Davis’ life was forever changed when she took on the role of Charlotte York in Sex and the City. As we watched Carrie, Samantha, Miranda and Charlotte navigate relationships in NYC, the show helped push once unacceptable conversation topics out of the shadows and altered the narrative around women and sex. We all saw ourselves in them as they searched for fulfillment in life, sex and friendships. Now, Kristin Davis wants to connect with you, the fans, and share untold stories and all the behind the scenes. Together, with Kristin and special guests, what will begin with Sex and the City will evolve into talks about themes that are still so relevant today. "Are you a Charlotte?" is much more than just rewatching this beloved show, it brings the past and the present together as we talk with heart, humor and of course some optimism.
Stuff You Should Know
If you've ever wanted to know about champagne, satanism, the Stonewall Uprising, chaos theory, LSD, El Nino, true crime and Rosa Parks, then look no further. Josh and Chuck have you covered.