Chapter 5

The Arrest of Edward Edwards

Louisville, Kentucky
June 9, 2009

When the knock came on the door, his wife called out, “Wayne, there are two policemen here to talk to you.” She had been with him 41 years. He had only one thought—how much do they know? He knew he was in serious trouble, but he was old and he was tired. The game had gone on for decades and he was sick. With cancer, neuropathy and a general sense of, ‘I don’t care’, he let them ask their questions and he submitted to their request for a DNA sample. There was no question if they would be back, only when. He didn’t feel like running; he didn’t really have anywhere to go. Let the chips fall where they may.

It only took a month. When they came back, they didn’t ask him any questions. They simply announced, “Edward Wayne Edwards, we have a warrant for your arrest for the murders of Kelly Drew and Timothy Hack on August 8, 1980.” They read him his rights, cuffed him, and hauled him away. He weighed 300 pounds and was in a wheel chair.

July 30, 2009

It was the beginning of the end of 66 years of murder. They locked him up in county jail right out of Louisville, but soon extradited him to Dodge Correctional Institution in Wisconsin to face charges. Due to his failing health, they flew him in a chopper across state lines. He laughed to himself at what it must have cost the taxpayers. They had no idea of who he was or the magnitude of the crimes he had committed.

He had stated in the book how he would plan each crime. “Whether it was forgery, robbery or burglary, I would plan each crime deliberately, patiently and cold bloodedly.” Those had been his self-imposed rules and he had stuck to them religiously. What he didn’t mention in the book was murder and that helped him pull off the game for 66 years. A life of crime and terror, and now they finally had him. But no one knew—they were clueless. The cops were idiots as far as he was concerned. He had proved that for seventy years. He had toyed with them, flaunted his deeds in their face, and left them clues his entire life. No one had put it together. By this time, he doubted they would do so during his lifetime. That was probably a pretty good bet with his heart problems, emphysema, diabetes and other ailments. He didn’t think he was going to be around that much longer.

Edwards first met his public defender, Jeffrey De La Rosa, in August of 2009. He didn’t inform him of much, declaring his innocence in the murders. He stuck by his story for months, maintaining that he had seen 2 thugs “stomping on Hack” and he left the scene, figuring it was none of his business.

De La Rosa did the best he could, but he didn’t have a lot to work with. He did manage to drag things out, getting the trial date extended a few times. He had a valid point that witnesses, facts, and a criminal defense were difficult to prepare for a case 30 years old. Yet the evidence against Edwards was overwhelming and a trial was inevitable.

Edwards wore out. He decided to confess to the Wisconsin murders, thinking he would be executed. He met once again with his public defender in April of 2010. Edwards had a lengthy rap sheet, having been in and out of prison most of his life. He had never been charged with murder and he made a decision. He decided to throw in the towel. He had been in jail for almost 11 months, his health was deteriorating, and he knew he wasn’t escaping this time. There was nowhere to go. He had escaped the claws of justice for 66 years. He wanted to be executed.

He informed his lawyer of this decision, but De La Rosa argued against it. He told Edwards that he was still trying for a change of venue to get an impartial jury and they had a good chance the trial date would be extended yet another time.

Edwards informed De La Rosa, “You don’t understand. I am done! It’s over and I want the death penalty. I don’t want the chair. I don’t think I want them to fry me, but if they promise me the needle, I will give them the details.”

De La Rosa advised against the guilty plea and told Edwards they could still fight the charges, but Edwards wanted nothing to do with that. He insisted he wanted the needle. De La Rosa finally acquiesced, but he added that there was one slight problem.

“What’s that?” asked Ed.

“Wisconsin doesn’t have the death penalty and they will not execute you,” De La Rosa told him.

Edwards responded, “Do you mean to tell me there is no death penalty in Wisconsin? I thought I could be executed for the crime.” Ed pondered the situation for several moments…then he asked… “Does Ohio have the death penalty for murder?”

De La Rosa paled. There could only be one reason for that question—another murder! He informed Edwards that Ohio did indeed. Edwards returned to his cell. He wanted the death penalty, but Wisconsin was not going to give it to him. De La Rosa walked across the street to the district attorney’s office. He met with the D.A. and announced, “I have some good news for you. Edwards wants to confess to the Hack/Drew murders.”

The D.A. looked at him suspiciously and asked, “What’s the bad news?”

“He wants the needle. He wants it in writing that he’ll get the death penalty and in return he’ll confess to all the details.”

“Darn it!” said the D.A. “I finally get a break, and we can’t deliver. Did you tell him there’s no capital punishment in Wisconsin?”

“Yeah, and he got really upset. He told me we were done and he went back to his cell.”

“Do you think we can get him to talk?”

“I don’t know; this guy insists on getting his own way. I don’t think anybody is going to tell him what to do.”

“Well, let me kick it around the office. We’ll get back with you. Thanks for letting us know.”

“There is one more thing.”

“Yeah?”

“He asked me if Ohio has the death penalty.”

“Oh, my God…”

Edwards concluded the best way to get the death penalty was to tell them about the 2 kids he had killed in Ohio in 1977. The word finally made it to the authorities, but they weren’t sure if he was telling the truth or to which lover’s lane murder he wanted to confess to. There were several in the 70’s. So Edwards comprised a confessional letter on April 15 and mailed it directly to the state district attorney’s office in Norton. That got their attention.

Edwards’ 2010 confessional letter to Ohio District Attorney Office

By the end of April, 2010, Edwards was frustrated. His anger flared when he didn’t get his own way. He had made what he considered to be his most important decision ever—to end his life. Now, the cops were interfering. No death penalty in Wisconsin! How dare they deny HIM! He was always in control! He had to give them the two kids from Ohio in 1977, but they were still clueless as to who he was. He was still waiting. He had put a puzzle in the letter that he was the Zodiac killer, “Norton, You are the first”… But nobody caught it. The block lettering was the clue.

Edwards didn’t hear back immediately, so he decided to drop a note to the detective in charge of his case in Ohio. Officer John Canterbury would receive a letter sent on April 29 from Dodge Correction Center, Wisconsin.

Letter postmarked April 30, 2010.

Edwards was manipulating the cops and expressing his concern of getting extradited immediately to Ohio for the death penalty. If not? “I also have other places I can go.” Edwards was trying to get executed as soon as possible. He was unaware that there were certain years in Ohio that the death penalty did not apply and 1977 was one of them.

Edwards was really angry now. He’d given them two more of his murders and apparently for no reason. He felt like he’d been tricked somehow. He had written the Norton police detective less than a week earlier, certain that they would extradite him to Ohio. Now, he knew they wouldn’t execute him for the 1977 Straub/Lavacco killing in Ohio. On May 4th, Edwards wrote Canterbury again. He was extremely angry and challenged the detective, “Did you know I cannot get the death penalty for a 1977 murder in Ohio?” He wants some answers. Then he concludes this letter with an incredible confession. Concerned with getting the death penalty, he wrote, “I would really like to know the above (in his letter) because there is another state that would love to have me and they did, and still do, have the death penalty in 1977.”

Letter postmarked May 5, 2010 to Detective Canterbury confessing to more murders

In his letter, he confirms his court date for the murders in Wisconsin have been extended again, to August or September. He’s not sure if Wisconsin is going to let him face his charges in Ohio, so he threatens Canterbury with a shocker that was never followed up on. He claims there is another state that would “love to have me” that had, and still does have the death penalty in 1977. Then he sardonically signs the letter:

“Hey, this is Ed Edwards
Checking in.
Have a good day!”

Edwards met with his attorney once again. “I have another question for you. Did Ohio have the death penalty for murder in 1996?” In disbelief, the court appointed attorney slowly nodded yes. Edwards continued, “Then I want to tell you how I killed my adopted son Dannie for the life insurance in April of ’96”.

That got the ball rolling. After just more than a month, on June 11^th, 2010, Edwards pleaded guilty to the 1980 slayings of Hack and Drew in Wisconsin. There was no question of his guilt. His daughter had turned him in; he knew all the “unpublished facts” and his DNA matched. He was given two life sentences. Two days later he was extradited to Ohio and pleaded guilty to the 1977 murders of Lavacco and Straub. It was the same M.O., the same gruesome unexplainable executions of two young adults on a lover’s lane. He was given two additional life sentences.

On June 18^th, 2010, he confessed to yet another murder. He informed the news media on June 17th, 2010, “I executed my stepson, Dannie Gloeckner, and collected 250,000 dollars in life insurance.” Before the court could accept his guilty plea for his final confession, he had to appear before a three-judge panel. The date was set for August 26^th, 2010, but it was extended so he could get a psychological evaluation.

He was upset. He knew they had him dead to rights, no escaping this time. Boy, did that bring memories; escaping! He chuckled to himself, “Those idiots.” He was thinking back to 1955, in Akron, Ohio, and 1960 in Portland, Oregon.

Akron Beacon Journal April 6, 1955

Akron Beacon Journal, 1961

Edwards was a known escape artist since he was 12. “But now what?” Edwards mused. “I’m sick, I’m old and I’m sure not going to be able to make a phone call and somehow waltz out of here.” The more he pondered the hopelessness of his situation, the more depressed he became.

“Well,” he resigned, “I did it. I became a crook and I was a good one. I did more scams, I did more robberies, and I killed more people than anyone will ever believe. I flaunted it! I teased them, I taunted them, and I rubbed it in their faces for 66 years! Still, no one has a clue to who I really am. Finally, I guess it’s over. In August, they are going to set my date.” He lay down on his bunk satisfied.

He thought about his extradition from Wisconsin to Pickaway. He hadn’t enjoyed the trip, but at least he was where he wanted to be—his home state of Ohio. The stupid cops may or may not have believed his story about wanting to be closer to family, but he wanted Ohio just for his death penalty. After all, they are second in the nation at putting people to death; Texas is first. Things had moved along pretty well, considering nothing ever happened quickly in the justice system. But now he was only weeks away from them setting the date. He was so affixed with having control over his own destiny; he didn’t want anything to mess it up.

‘What a joke!!” he thought. While in jail, over the years, he had faked several suicide attempts in jail to give himself a shot at escaping. Now he actually wanted to die, and it’s like mission impossible. His new attorney in Ohio had told him between the helicopter rides, the medical conditions, and all the legal constraints, the “system” had spent well over a million dollars on him since his arrest. “For just a piece of that, I’d of made a deal with them a long time ago!” He heard the trustee making his way down the cell blocks, passing out mail. Since his arrest, he had gotten a letter or two a month from people wanting to write a book or make a movie on him. He never answered any of them, but he hadn’t gotten anything in a while. “Maybe nobody knows I’m in Pickaway,” he considered.

The trustee got to his cell and announced, “I got something for you today, Edwards.” He passed a letter between the bars.

It was addressed:

Edward Wayne Edwards

Prisoner # 584893

P.O. Box 209-FHC

Pickaway Correctional Institute

Orient, Ohio

That is not what piqued his interest. It was the return address. It had come from Great Falls, Montana. “Boy, does that bring back memories,” he thought. “Fifty-five years ago.” So much had happened since; so many killings. “They nearly had me, clear back then.” He wondered what was inside the envelope. “Did someone know something?” he mused. “How could they, after all these years? But, Great Falls, Montana?” He stared at it several minutes and then opened the letter.

Letter written by Cameron, July, 2010

Dear Ed:

My name is John Cameron. I am a retired Cold Case Homicide Detective for the Great Falls Police Department. I did 24 years of my sentence for that organization. ☺ I now work for the Montana Board of Pardons and Parole. I am an analyst, reviewing inmates’ files, interviewing and recommending whether or not they are deserving of an early release. I like it. As a cop I was fortunate to have been able to work on many unsolved homicides that occurred here. I was able to solve 6 Cold Cases that were as old as 1964. One case I was never allowed to be involved in was the Kalitske/Bogle case from January 1, 1956. That case occurred in Cascade County, just outside Great Falls, and cops are very covenant about their homicides. The Cascade County Sheriff’s Office worked that case. It has never been solved.

The reason I write to you is to close that case out and let the family know that you are in jail, serving a death sentence and life. There is only one relative around and she is 80. It is the sister of the victim. She is ill and has been told in the past that the cops know who did it but can’t prove it. They were wrong.

I became involved in the case two weeks ago after I was sent a flier about you and your crimes. Several Great Falls police detectives contacted me because they were looking at you for killing a couple here in 1964. In that case a grocer and his wife were stabbed to death in their store. I arrested a man in that case in 2001. He was acquitted at trial. Since then, because of certain egos at the GFPD, they are always trying to find someone else that killed the grocer couple. Of course you didn’t kill them because you were in prison then. I guess the GFPD never bothered to check your record before attempting to tell me they were looking at a new killer for the ‘64 case.

So now, after reading about you, I was fortunate enough to have been contacted by an old investigator that asked if I would look into the January, 1956, killing that you did here. And now that I have looked at your book, record, acquaintances, past crimes etc.… I know you can finally put this case to rest for Mrs. Kalitske and Bogle. I have researched you like no other. I find you fascinating. I have spoken with the County Attorney here, John Parker, regarding this case. I am putting some money on your account in case you are willing to write back. Thanks for your time, Ed. You have some years left and perhaps your last years could truly do some good for the remaining families.

Respectfully, John A Cameron

Edwards was shocked. For the last 66 years, he was in total control. He was the executioner. The world only knew what he had given them. He was the puppet master and the world was at the end of his strings. Now, for the first time, someone else knew. The first connection had been made. His hands were shaking. How much did this cop know, or even suspect? How far would it go and how much would they find out? I need my date with the needle!

“This could really screw up my plans to be executed,” he thought. He wondered if the cop would write again. He thought that over. “No,” he said to himself, “I wonder when the cop will write again and who he has talked to!”