The title is misleading, it should have been called The Man Who Really Liked Killing Teenage Boys. That said, this is a beautifully written account of one of the worst crimes in American crime history, which is saying, you know, a lot. And it’s a strangely unknown crime too, not famous at all like your Bundys and Mansons and Gacys. I’m not sure why.
The place was Houston, 4th largest city in the USA now, 6th at that time, the early 1970s. Specifically, the place was The Heights, a poor white suburb. From 1971 boys started disappearing, one here, one there. So the parents would ring the cops and the cops would say yes? And the parents would say our son has been missing for two days now and the cops would say well, what do you want us to do about that? And the parents would say why, look for him, of course, and the cops would say file a missing persons report and the parents would say what? Huh? And the cops would heave a sigh and explain and the explanation was :
WE DON’T SEARCH FOR RUNAWAYS
Jack Olsen follows the first set of parents and at one point he says
They came to the full realisation that their son was unmistakeably, undeniably gone, and that no one was going to help.
The cops were cynical and dismissive. This was happening, says Olsen,
at a time when teenagers were deserting their homes and flocking into communes and hitchhiking all over the continent without so much as a twinge of remorse about the generation they had left behind
Or so it was believed by almost everyone. Plus, Houston had a huge murder rate, twice that of London in the 1970s, and London was six times bigger. Some years Houston had a murder rate larger than all of Great Britain.
It turned out that even if a body of one of these kids had turned up, the cops probably wouldn’t have investigated very hard. They were swamped. One cop explained:
Our division works only murders, period, and not every murder either. We just say “Well, how much time are we gonna spend on this murder? If society hasn’t suffered a great loss, why, let’s go home and call it a day.”
Okay well, this is the story of a guy called Dean Corll who was in his early 30s and his two teenage sidekicks, Wayne Henley and David Brooks. They were both 17. How the whole thing got started is not clear but the idea was that David and Wayne would bring teenage boys to parties at Dean’s place and he would supply them with all the goodies their hearts could desire, dope, booze and plenty of acrylic paint to huff from paper bags. Most of the boys would go home eventually but there was usually one conked out at the end, not going anywhere, and Dean would have his fun with that one, which ended up with him strangling the kid.
Sometimes Wayne pitched in with the killing, sometimes not.
Wayne Henley on the difficulties of killing a boy :
It ain’t like on TV. Man, I choked one of ‘em boys, and he turned blue and gurgled, and I jes’ couldn’t kill him. He jes’ wouldn’t die! I went in and got Dean, and he come out and helped.
Then they’d shove the body into Dean’s van and drive it usually to a boat house he rented and bury it.
David Brooks :
That Dean, he was powerful strong! When we’d come down here to bury a body, I’d stay in the car, and ol’ Dean, he’d put two shovels under one arm and a body under the other and just walk on down to the beach like he was carrying a fishing rod.
Half way through all this homicidal madness David Brooks dropped out and got married. Henley and Corll carried on. But as we know, all good things must come to an end, and the day came when Dean and Wayne had an awful fight and Wayne ended up shooting Dean dead. Then Wayne called the cops and started singing like a canary. He took the cops to Dean’s boathouse, a large barn type place, and told them where to dig. The cops spoke to Dean’s landlady, Mrs Meynier, she lived nearby :
“Why, Dean was the nicest person you’ll ever meet! He had the most infectious smile you’ll ever see! Why, we were always talking to him. Just two days ago he offered to give me some plants. He’d go out of his way to visit with me.”
Jack Olsen has a chilling turn of phrase here, describing the ghastly work the cops now had to do in the boathouse.
they had all seen death, but none had encountered the wholesale transfiguration of rollicking boys into reeking sacks of carrion.
The boys (aged 13 to 17) were buried in three different places. Eventually the cops found 27 bodies. This raises a few questions.
1) Can at least 27 boys vanish from one suburb of a city and no one realises there’s something going on? No one had the least notion of Dean Corll’s activities until he was dead. Are people vanishing all the time now, in every city?
2) There are two gaps in the chronology of the killings, five months here, four months there. Most unlikely that the murderers put their feet up and relaxed, more likely that there are other victims somewhere. We’ll never know.
3) What was going on with Corll and his two willing helpers? Is this another example of the phenomenon described by Christopher Browning in his brilliant book Ordinary Men (about the first phase of the Holocaust) and revealed in the Stanford Prison Experiment and the Milgram Experiment? These observations seem to reveal that some, maybe many, people who are otherwise quite normal can turn into murderers or torturers quite easily, given the right circumstances. We think almost all people have a common decency, a basic morality, that would stop them either killing or torturing another human being, but perhaps that is a pleasant fantasy. Perhaps the truth is that many people, given the go ahead by someone like Dean Corll, will gladly have a go at strangling a young boy. And then another. And then another.
This has been your feel bad review of the day.
For true crime fans, a classic.