girl because she would be pliable to his sexual demands and made him feel more masculine. Krajcir was told that his abuse of other women was his way of acting out his anger toward his own mother, and that he used violence to punish those who made him feel sexually inadequate.
Krajcir became an active and enthusiastic participant in group therapy sessions. On December 31,
1980, just sixteen months after being declared a sexually dangerous person, attorney John Ryan asked the court for Krajcir’s release from incarceration. Dr. Frank M. Perez evaluated Krajcir for his potential release. He concluded that Krajcir was no longer prone to commit chronic violence, and that he was now able to exercise control over his behavior. His evaluation reported that the chance of Krajcir committing any future violent crimes was low.
Despite opposition from State’s Attorney John Clemons, Krajcir was released from prison June 4,
1981, by order of Judge Richman. His release was dependent on certain conditions, one of which was that Krajcir was to attend SIU and complete his degree in criminal justice. Krajcir was paroled, but it was his later violation of the conditions of his parole that forced his return to the Illinois DOC in 1988, and allowed investigators to easily interview him and ultimately convict him of mulitiple rapes and murders, twenty-five years later.
In December, Krajcir graduated with a B.S. in administration of justice and a minor in psychology—taxpayer dollars hard at work. In April 1982, Deborah Sheppard was found dead. Twenty-five years later, Lieutenant Echols was convinced that he had finally found the man responsible for her murder. It was now up to a judge or jury to decide if he was correct.
3
Mary and Brenda Parsh
August 12, 1977
Floyd Parsh clutched his chest. He gasped for air. It felt like the weight of the world was pressing down on him. His life was being crushed out of his body. It was a heart attack. He knew it. It was something that was prevalent in his bloodline. It was inevitable and, of course, inconvenient. He knew that the consequences would be significant, even life-threatening. If he had lived a thousand more years, Floyd would never have anticipated just how much his life was about to change. As his heart failed to function, he feared the idea of losing his life and his connection with his loved ones. He did lose that connection, but not because he died. It was his wife and daughter that ended up losing their lives. Floyd’s heart never recovered from that.
After receiving word that Floyd was hospitalized at the Southeast Missouri (SEMO) Hospital and was recovering from open-heart surgery, Brenda Parsh booked a flight from Milwaukee, Wisconsin, to St. Louis, Missouri. From there, she would travel south to Cape Girardeau so she could be with her father.
Brenda’s boyfriend, Richard McGougan, lived in St. Louis at the time. He said that Brenda called him to let him know that she would be flying in on Friday, and if time permitted, they might be able to get together for dinner before she went to Cape Girardeau.
“I wasn’t sure what time her flight was getting in, so Brenda called me when she arrived at the airport. She said that she had just talked with her mother, who expressed that she was very concerned about Floyd’s condition,” McGougan said. “Brenda decided that we would not have time to meet because she wanted to take the next commuter flight out to Cape as soon as possible.”
It was the last conversation that Richard had with Brenda.
It was a short hop between St. Louis and Cape Girardeau, only 120 miles. Her plane arrived at 9:38 P.M. It took less than ten minutes to retrieve her luggage and then Brenda met her mother, Mary, who had come to pick her up.
Due to the situation they were now confronted with, the usual banter between mother and daughter was replaced by a long, uncomfortable silence during the short drive to Floyd and Mary’s house on Koch Street. Police reports estimate that they would have arrived at around 10:00 P.M., barring any stops or delays.
The blanket of night did little to stifle the heat of the August sun, which beat down with a vengeance for days and had elevated temperatures to the upper 90s.
Mary Parsh pulled her car into the driveway in front of her house. After turning the air-conditioning and fan dials on her dashboard console to the off position, she twisted the ignition key backward to stop the engine. Mary and her daughter Brenda unbuckled the seat belts that were strapped across their midsections and then took a deep breath of cool air before opening their doors to enter the lingering heat and humidity outside. Little did they know that someone was already waiting inside the house they were about to enter. The intruder was waiting for Mary to return home. He wasn’t expecting a guest, but when they arrived, he altered his plans to accommodate both of them.
Brenda and her mother got out of the car. They each grabbed a suitcase from the backseat of the vehicle before they shut the doors to the car, and on the life that they had both once cherished.
They walked forward and Mary slid her key into the lock of the front door. With a slight twist of her wrist, the door opened and they both stepped inside. Neither Mary nor Brenda was prepared for the possibility that Floyd might die. They didn’t know what to say to each other or how to act. The usual conversation between them that sometimes consumed hours and consisted of nothing pertinent at all seemed strained as they struggled for something to say to each other. It did not last long, though. As soon as they passed through the doorway, there was something else that they were not prepared for. Now they were confronted with something more immediate and even more terrifying than the thought of the death of Mary’s husband and Brenda’s father. It was the reality that their own lives were in jeopardy. More frightening was the possibility of what they might have to endure before they gave up their lives.
Inside the house, an intruder sat waiting. He wore a blue bandana over his face so that just his eyes and the top of his head were visible. He expected the return of Mary Parsh, a fifty-eight-year-old woman who wouldn’t be able to put up much of a fight, and therefore become an easy victim. Instead, he got Mary, as well as her young and physically fit daughter Brenda. He would have to deal with Brenda first in order to eliminate any problems that might occur due to her unexpected presence.
When he heard the car pull into the driveway, the intruder moved to the front door. Adrenaline coursed through his body as he listened to the key enter the lock to release the bolt. The door opened and he confronted Mary and Brenda as soon as they stepped inside. Mary never even had an opportunity to pull the keys out of the front door’s lock.
They were led to the master bedroom at gunpoint and their hands were tied behind their backs. Their assailant pulled his bandana down around his neck and forced Brenda to perform oral sex on him. Then he raped her on the bed while her mother lay beside her, helpless and scared. The gruesome details of what Mary and Brenda had to endure would never be fully known by anyone other than the man who committed the crimes.
The phone might have rung several times during the ordeal. It was certain that at least one phone call was made. Somehow, Brenda was able to convince her rapist to allow her to answer it. The caller on the other end of the line was Floyd. She barely got to speak for a full minute when the intruder hung up the receiver. At least she got to tell her father that she loved him.
The gun that was pointed toward Brenda’s head blasted a bullet into the back of her skull. Her mother trembled beside her raped and murdered daughter. It is nearly impossible to imagine what thoughts must have been going through her mind. A second gunshot blurted out and penetrated the pillow that Mary’s head rested on, but it did not hit her.
Thinking that he had just killed both women, the intruder went into the other room. He rifled through a purse and took
