Who Killed Chandra Levy?

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Who Killed Chandra Levy? -
Phantom Posted: Thu Jul 24, 2008 4:54 pm
Who Killed Chandra Levy? CHAPTER ONE: A Young Woman Disappears It was above 80 degrees, the start of another steamy summer day in Washington. At 8:58 on the morning of July 25, 2001, three D.C. police sergeants gathered 28 cadets along Glover Road in Rock Creek Park. They were looking for any trace of a government intern named Chandra Ann Levy. The 24-year-old woman from California, with hazel eyes and a head full of unruly brown curls, had left her Dupont Circle apartment and then simply disappeared. She had been missing for 85 days, and the search for her had captivated the city and the nation. Her laptop computer's history showed that she was interested in visiting the vast 1,750-acre park on the day she vanished. See a 360 degree view of the site where Chandra Levy's remains were found in 2002.Now, the line of cadets executed the order of the city's chief of detectives, Cmdr. Jack Barrett: Search 100 yards from the roads that crisscross the park. But someone had made a mistake. D.C. Police Chief Charles H. Ramsey had wanted the cadets to search 100 yards off the park's trails. By limiting the search to the areas near the roads, the police would canvass a far smaller portion of the park and not go deep into the woods. Either Ramsey miscommunicated his order, or Barrett misunderstood it. After 1 that afternoon, the sergeants called off the search, and the weary cadets boarded a bus and headed for another area of the park. Off the Western Ridge Trail near Glover Road, beneath the dark green canopy of the forest, a pair of sunglasses rested on the ground. Not far away was a white Reebok sneaker trimmed in blue. A little farther, on the edge of a ravine, was a pair of black Pro Spirit stretch pants turned inside out, each leg tied in a knot. And nearby lay the body of Chandra Levy. It was 79 yards below the trail. "We were unbelievably close, but we missed - we just missed her," Terrance W. Gainer, the second-ranking D.C. police official at the time, later recalled. "We were so darn close to finding that poor girl." It would be another 10 months before Chandra's body was found. By then, the forensic evidence that might have identified a killer - blood, hair, fiber - would be gone. The Chandra Levy case is the most famous unsolved murder in modern Washington, a mystery involving sex, power and secrets. At its center is a vivacious young intern who had crossed paths with a handsome, married congressman. The story triggered months of feverish worldwide media attention in 2001, before the Sept. 11 attacks shoved it aside and the investigation stalled. The Washington Post spent a year reconstructing the disappearance of Chandra Levy and the investigation into her death. Reporters interviewed police officials, investigators and suspects, many for the first time, and obtained details about dozens of previously unknown private conversations and events, including former Rep. Gary Condit's first interview with the newspaper in seven years. The Post's examination of the case will unfold in a 12-chapter serial and epilogue in print and online. The serial will show how the sensational nature of the media coverage quickly overwhelmed the investigation. It will expose the fleeting acts that later loomed large and will reveal undisclosed clues, meaningful and false: a DNA swab in a dark parking lot, Chandra's last computer search, a conversation with a jailhouse informant who said he had the key to the case. In the end, the serial will reveal how an enormous effort by the D.C. police, the FBI and prosecutors was undercut by a chain of mistakes, a misdirected focus and missed opportunities that allowed a killer to escape justice. The case began on Sunday, May 6, 2001, with an urgent call about 4 p.m. to the D.C. police department's 2nd District stationhouse on Idaho Avenue in Northwest Washington. On the line was Robert Levy, a doctor from Modesto, Calif. He hadn't heard from his daughter, Chandra, for five days, not since she sent an e-mail listing Southwest Airlines fares for her planned trip back west. She should have been home by now. She had been in Washington for seven months, interning at the Bureau of Prisons. She was supposed to graduate May 11 from the University of Southern California with a master's degree in public administration. She was a planner. She would have called or sent another e-mail. The seemingly routine missing-persons case was caught by D.C. Detective Ralph Durant in the 2nd District, a place so placid the cops there are jokingly called "squirrel chasers" by some officers in the tougher parts of town. The stationhouse serves the tony neighborhoods of Cleveland Park and Georgetown, and the threats are mainly drunks, burglars and petty thieves. Durant, a journeyman with 33 years on the force, had little homicide experience. He wore parachute pants, cowboy boots and hair pulled back in a ponytail. Durant took the information from Levy. That day, May 6, police went to Chandra's Dupont Circle apartment, No. 315 in the Newport Condominium at 1260 21st St. NW, and found no indication of foul play. Hospitals and the medical examiner's office were called. Officers visited the apartment four days in a row, going inside with the help of an apartment manager, and opening Chandra's mailbox. The modern, third-floor studio was neatly furnished with a futon, sleek stainless-steel chairs and a glass coffee table. An open suitcase rested on the floor. Back in California, Robert Levy and his wife, Susan, frantically sifted through Chandra's cellphone bills for clues. There was one number she called over and over. It turned out to be the office of Gary Condit, who represented the Levys' district in the Central Valley of California. On May 6, the same day he called police, Robert Levy called Condit at his home in Ceres, a town on the outskirts of Modesto. The congressman's wife, Carolyn, took a message, and Condit returned the call about an hour later. Levy told Condit he was the father of Chandra Levy, an intern in Washington. She was missing. Could he help? Condit said Chandra was a friend of one of his former interns, and he pledged to do anything he could, even contribute to a reward fund. After Levy got off the phone, his wife told him that she believed their daughter was dating the 53-year-old Condit. Robert Levy relayed that information the next day to Durant, who called the congressman. On May 8, Chandra's aunt, Linda Zamsky, called Durant to say Chandra had confided in her about the affair. Also that day, Condit returned Durant's call. He told the detective that Chandra called him occasionally for career advice. Condit said he had not heard from Chandra for about a week. On May 10, police obtained a warrant and formally searched Chandra's apartment. They inventoried what they found: Two partially packed Ciao suitcases. A cellphone, credit cards and a driver's license in a purse. Dirty dishes in the sink. A refrigerator that was empty except for some leftover pasta and Reese's peanut butter cups. A Williams-Sonoma bag on the breakfast countertop containing dirty laundry: blue jeans, socks and panties. Her telephone answering machine was full, with 25 messages. Several were from her mother and godparents. Two were from Condit; they were left on May 3, two days after Chandra disappeared. The congressman seemed concerned that he hadn't heard from her. Chandra's blue Sony Vaio laptop was left open on a makeshift desk in a hallway nook of her apartment. A D.C. police sergeant who was not a trained computer technician turned it on and tried to find her last Internet searches. But he accidentally corrupted the search history on the computer. The mistake would set the investigation back because it would take technicians a month to produce an accurate list of the last Web sites Chandra visited. On the day she disappeared, May 1, Chandra signed on to the Internet at 10:27 a.m. She went to Condit's home page, Southwest Airlines, Amtrak, Baskin-Robbins. At 11:26, she went to washingtonpost.com. She clicked on the weather report. The forecast called for fair skies. At 11:33, Chandra clicked on a washingtonpost.com "Entertainment Guide" to Rock Creek Park. At the top of the page was the administrative address of the park: 3545 Williamsburg Ln. NW - the address of the Klingle Mansion, a three-story stone farmhouse that serves as park headquarters. A minute later, she clicked on a link for a map of the park. Her last search was at 12:24 p.m. The detectives would later theorize that Chandra may have planned to meet someone at Klingle Mansion. Was it one of her friends from the Bureau of Prisons? More intriguing: Was it Condit, who didn't live far from Rock Creek Park? The Klingle Mansion theory quickly gained currency, and police would spend days searching the site. But there was another possibility that was given less credence by investigators: The page with the Klingle Mansion address included information about the park's hiking trails. It also had details about the horse stables, the old Peirce Mill, and the Nature Center and Planetarium - all of them not far from where Chandra's body lay. She could have been looking for a place to walk on a beautiful spring day. She liked to exercise and she loved the outdoors, and she had just canceled her gym membership. If she had gone to the park on her own, she could have been a victim of random violence. And there was another piece of potential evidence the police missed. Chandra's apartment building had multiple security cameras, which fed a tape that was recorded over every seven days. By the time police obtained the tape, it was too late. Gone were answers to several key questions: What time did she leave? Was she alone? The front desk clerk didn't know. And the detectives didn't have a clue. http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-srv/metro/specials/chandra/ch1_1.html Last edited by Phantom on Thu Jul 24, 2008 5:24 pm; edited 1 time in total		Joined: 05 Jun 2006 Posts: 3332 Location: My only friend, the end



Phantom Posted: Thu Jul 24, 2008 4:57 pm
CHAPTER TWO: The Gentleman From California Chandra Levy came to Washington in the fall of 2000, a fresh-faced intern awestruck by her surroundings. She was one of many ambitious young people who arrive in the nation's capital excited by their proximity to power. Chandra's ticket to Washington was an internship for the Federal Bureau of Prisons during her final semester of graduate school. She was a smart California girl, fit and petite at 108 pounds, who liked to work out at the gym. At 23, she exuded a blend of innocence and sensuality, but she was not a party girl. At heart, Chandra was a bit of a nerd. In high school, she liked to wear her Modesto police explorer uniform as she strode down the hallways, ignoring the ridicule from the cool kids. She was fiercely independent, stubborn to a fault. She was free-spirited but could be cautious. Once, when her family went camping in Yosemite National Park, Chandra slept in the car, fearing a bear attack. Chandra, whose name meant "moon" in Sanskrit, was raised in a spacious ranch home with horses out back in the almond groves of small-town Modesto, a 90-minute drive east from San Francisco. Its motto: "Water, Wealth, Contentment, Health." Chandra had big-city dreams of leaving the flat, dusty town in the middle of nowhere and seeing the world as an FBI agent. She was driven. She had liked older men as far back as high school, when she swooned for everything Harrison Ford. She dated a police officer in Modesto. As an undergraduate at San Francisco State University, she interned for the mayor of Los Angeles. As a graduate student at USC, she interned for the governor of California. In fall 2000, she was walking down the polished marble hallways of the Rayburn House Office Building with Jennifer Baker, another graduate student at the University of Southern California. They stopped by the office of the congressman from Chandra's district, Gary A. Condit. They expected to meet a low-ranking aide, but instead the lawmaker himself appeared. With his winning smile, carefully coiffed hair and charming man-about-town swagger, Condit, at 52, reminded Chandra of Harrison Ford. The congressman offered to show the pretty pair around, escorting them up to the gallery of the Capitol, with its commanding view of the historic House floor. He gave Baker, who didn't have a job, an internship in his office. The trio posed for a picture, Condit beaming with a broad smile as Chandra stood on his right, Baker on his left. Behind them was a large mural of a blue dog, the mascot for a group of conservative-leaning House Democrats led by Condit. For the past 11 years, Condit had been building a reputation as a renegade within the Democratic Party. A photo of House Speaker Newt Gingrich, a Republican, hung on his office wall. He was one of the few Democrats to publicly push President Bill Clinton to be forthcoming about his relationship with intern Monica Lewinsky. Condit's conservative stances were so popular in the San Joaquin Valley that his district became known as "Condit Country." The son of a Baptist preacher, Condit was raised in Tulsa, Okla. As a child, he tagged along with his father to tent revivals. By the time he reached high school, Condit had turned rebellious. He was a handsome, swashbuckling teenager who liked fast cars and found himself in trouble with the law, racking up traffic tickets and a conviction for reckless driving. Despite his penchant for running with a fast crowd, he fell for a girl who lived on the good side of town: Carolyn Berry, a sweet-natured blonde from a well-respected family. After graduating from high school, Condit married Berry on Jan. 18, 1967. That summer, their first child, Chad, was born. A daughter, Cadee, would follow. The newlyweds went with Gary's father, Adrian, to Ceres (pronounced SEER-ies), a slowpoke town in California's Central Valley named after the Roman goddess of agriculture. Here, among the vast groves of almonds and walnuts and fields of sweet strawberries, Condit's father found work as the pastor of the Village Chapel Free Will Baptist Church. Condit's career took off soon after college, when he was elected to the Ceres City Council. Two years later, at the age of 26, he became mayor. His ascent was steady: At 28, he was a member of the Stanislaus County Board of Supervisors; at 35, a state assemblyman; at 41, a member of Congress. He cultivated a wholesome image as the hometown boy who made it big but never forgot where he came from. Chandra was swept away by Condit's charm. By Thanksgiving in 2000, Condit would later tell police, Chandra was coming over two or three times a week, often after working out at the Washington Sports Club on Connecticut Avenue near Dupont Circle. Chandra would take the Metro to the Woodley Park station. From there, she would walk over the Calvert Street bridge to Condit's apartment in the trendy neighborhood of Adams Morgan. She typically spent the night. They rarely went out in public, preferring to stay in, eat pasta and watch movies on HBO. On her cellphone, she listed "Gary" as speed dial No. 7. She listed Condit's Capitol Hill office number as speed dial No. 8. Chandra told a relative that Condit insisted that their relationship be confidential. At first, she complied. She told her friend Baker that she was dating an FBI agent. But Chandra was so excited she couldn't contain herself. She started to tell a few people that she was seeing a congressman and that he looked like Harrison Ford. Chandra had a pair of tickets to a ball for George W. Bush's inauguration on Jan. 20, 2001, and she needed a date. She turned to Robert Kurkjian, a USC alum whom she had met at the Washington Sports Club. Kurkjian was an accountant with a gentle charm who, at 28, was five years her senior. That afternoon, with few friends in town, Chandra asked this man she barely knew to accompany her. He donned a tuxedo; she slipped into an evening gown. That night, they drove to Adams Morgan, where Chandra said she needed to pick up the tickets to the ball from her boyfriend. It was cold and snowy, but instead of directing Kurkjian to her boyfriend's home, Chandra asked him to pull into the parking lot of a gas station near Columbia Road. She opened the car door and ran into the wintry night. Kurkjian was confused. Who was her boyfriend, and why wasn't he taking her? Why did she tell Kurkjian to stay in the car? About 10 minutes later, Chandra reappeared, clutching an envelope with a pair of tickets to the Ball After the Ball, a $1,000-per-ticket event featuring R&B singer Macy Gray. Once inside the National Museum of Women in the Arts, Chandra wasn't interested in dancing. She didn't want a drink or anything to eat. She and her date climbed the grandiose staircase of the museum and looked out over the crowded dance floor. Kurkjian asked her about her boyfriend. Chandra was evasive. She said he was a member of Congress, but she wouldn't say more, Kurkjian would later tell police. Three months later, Chandra called Kurkjian. He hadn't spent any time with her and was surprised when she asked if he wanted to meet at a bar. It was April 27, 2001, a Friday, her last weekend in town. The Bureau of Prisons had ended her internship abruptly: The agency discovered she had completed her graduate coursework in December, so she was technically no longer a student and no longer eligible for the internship. Chandra was getting ready to return to Los Angeles to receive her diploma from USC on May 11. Kurkjian did not feel like going to a bar. Instead, he invited Chandra for beer, pizza and a movie with his roommates at their Dupont Circle apartment. Once there, she poured her heart out to him. She was disappointed to be leaving Washington, especially her boyfriend, the congressman. She said he planned to give up his seat, become a lobbyist, divorce his wife, marry Chandra and start a second family. Kurkjian was stunned by her naiveté and said so, telling her she was being played. Chandra refused to believe it. She was in love, she said, and her boyfriend was promising it would all work out. Chandra wanted to watch another movie and continue talking about her boyfriend. But it was after 1 in the morning. Kurkjian began to nod off and decided it was time for her to go. He walked Chandra to 16th and R streets, flagged down a cab and sent her on her way. He would never see her again. http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-srv/metro/specials/chandra/ch2_1.html		Joined: 05 Jun 2006 Posts: 3332 Location: My only friend, the end



Phantom Posted: Thu Jul 24, 2008 4:59 pm
CHAPTER THREE: A Private Matter Robert Levy's call to police saying his daughter had been dating a married congressman, Gary Condit, put officers on an investigative path that they would pursue for months. At 9:55 p.m. on May 9, 2001, three days after learning that Chandra Levy was missing, D.C. Detective Ralph Durant and his sergeant went to Condit's Adams Morgan condominium. The congressman told them he had no idea of Chandra's whereabouts. He said they met in fall 2000, when she came to his Capitol Hill office with a friend whom he hired as an intern. He said he and Chandra became friends, and he acknowledged that she had visited him at his apartment and had spent the night a couple of times. "Did you have an intimate relationship with Ms. Levy?" the sergeant asked. "I don't think we need to go there," Condit said, "and you can infer what you want with that." He said he had not seen Chandra since the last week of April. She did not appear to be upset. She was uncertain about her immediate future, but she told him she planned to be an FBI or CIA agent one day. The last time he spoke to her, Condit said, she told him she was considering taking a train back to California. Condit says now he did not believe he had anything to worry about. He thought that in four or five days Chandra would show up. "They'll find out what happened to Chandra and everything will be fine," he said. "They will find that I had nothing to do with this." Condit then asked the detectives if he was a suspect. "And they just looked at each other and said 'No.' But it didn't feel right. The way they were going, it didn't feel right." In his three decades as an FBI agent, Jack Barrett thought he had seen it all: drug-trafficking cases in New Orleans, organized crime in Newark, police corruption cases in Washington. In May 2001, recently retired from the FBI, Barrett was starting a second career as the chief of D.C. detectives. And now he had the case of a lifetime. Over the next few weeks, Barrett and his detectives would hear several stories about Condit and other women, stories Condit would later dismiss as untrue. "They led the police on some wild goose chase," he said. "Did I know some of them? Yeah. But did I know them in the way that they described it? Not at all. It But the more the detectives heard, the more they focused on the congressman. Could his lifestyle have anything to do with Chandra's disappearance? One woman who called was Joleen Argentini McKay, a junior aide for Condit during the mid-1990s. At 22, she was petite and pretty and crazy for the congressman. The affair was supposed to stay secret, she said, but people in Condit's Capitol Hill office knew. McKay told police she gave him a $1,500 brushed-steel Tag Heuer watch and a red Trek mountain bike. She said their relationship lasted about three years and Condit had been manipulative and controlling. She was concerned about Chandra. Police would also talk to Anne Marie Smith. In July 2000, the attractive flight attendant said she first saw Condit sitting in a business-class seat on a United Airlines flight from San Francisco to Dulles. Smith, 39, said he introduced himself simply as Gary, and offered her a piece of his power bar and his phone number. Smith recounted their courtship to police. She was smitten by Condit. He was low-key and handsome. After the flight touched down, she and another attendant looked him up on the manifest. Congressman Gary Condit, it said. Two days later, Smith and Condit met at a restaurant in Georgetown. Over dinner, Smith was excited but cautious. She was wary when she found out that Condit was married. She didn't date married men, she told him. Still, she found him enticing. She returned home and noted the day she met Condit in her diary. "July 10, 2000: Met a new friend. Spent 30 hour layover and time with friend." She told police that they soon began to date, and Condit showered her with attention. He gave her a leather bracelet studded with sterling-silver hearts. For Christmas, she said, he gave her a gold bracelet. She gave him a good-luck bell for his Harley-Davidson and a Tim McGraw CD. She said that Condit told her the relationship could last forever - as long as she didn't tell anyone. They met at hotels and inside his fourth-floor, turn-of-the-century condo at the top of Adams Morgan, an eclectic neighborhood of ethnic restaurants, offbeat shops and jam-packed nightclubs near the National Zoo and Rock Creek Park. It was not a typical neighborhood for a conservative congressman from a right-leaning agricultural district. During the second week of May 2001, rumors about a relationship between Chandra and Condit began to spread around Washington. Smith said Condit phoned her and asked her not to call him for a while - he would call her. "Is it your family? Is it your job?" Smith asked. "No. I can't tell you," he said, she would later recall. "I may have to disappear for a while." http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-srv/metro/specials/chandra/ch3_2.html		Joined: 05 Jun 2006 Posts: 3332 Location: My only friend, the end



Phantom Posted: Thu Jul 24, 2008 5:02 pm
CHAPTER FOUR: The Levys Chandra Levy didn't show up for her graduation ceremony at the University of Southern California on May 11, 2001. Her parents were in agony, collapsing on their sofas, unable to sleep. They had not heard from their daughter for 10 days, and they believed that the police in Washington were not moving quickly enough to find her. They felt the police did not share their urgency, and they wanted answers. For help, they turned to the Carole Sund/Carrington Memorial Reward Foundation, a nonprofit group based in Modesto that was created after three hikers were found slain in Yosemite National Park in 1999. The group knew how to attract media attention, and on May 15 it held a candlelight vigil in Modesto. Organizers handed out Chandra's favorite candy: Reese's peanut butter cups. The crisis forced the Levys to draw on a spiritual foundation they had spent a lifetime cultivating. With bushy eyebrows, receding salt-and-pepper hair and a kind smile, Robert Levy was a gentle soul, an oncologist grounded in science but captivated by New Age philosophy and various religious beliefs. His wife, Susan, was his muse - a tall, outdoorsy woman with high cheekbones and a hearty laugh who loved to ride horses, paint and sing. The couple met at a mixer in 1968 while they were both students at Ohio State University. Robert Levy was an ROTC graduate and microbiologist who would go on to medical school. Susan Katz was an art education major. When he started his practice, Robert could choose among several cities that needed oncologists: Zanesville, Ohio; Council Bluffs, Iowa; Las Cruces, N.M.; Richmond, Va.; and Modesto, Calif. They picked Modesto out of a baseball cap. By the time they moved, Chandra was 4. Soon, the family added a son, Adam. Robert Levy slowly built his practice and became known as "Last Chance Bob" for his aggressive yet holistic approach to treating cancer. Sometimes, he would come home after losing a patient and cry. As Chandra and Adam grew up, the family traveled the world: Africa and Costa Rica, Israel, Jamaica and the Galapagos Islands. The parents delved deeply into spirituality, exploring their Judaism and blending in Buddhism, Pentecostalism and Hinduism. With Chandra gone, none of it seemed to be helping. Robert and Susan hoped she would once again walk into their great room, which was adorned with Asian screens and stained-glass butterflies hung in windows high above the wooden floors. But their hope was fading. The Levys concluded that the story of their missing daughter, which had received scant notice in Washington, needed national attention from the news media. On May 15, they flew to D.C. to press their case directly with the police and the media. As they drove around the city, Robert Levy looked out the window. He knew it was crazy, but he was trying to catch a glimpse of his daughter. "I'm looking in the grass, in the trees," he recalled. The Levys visited Chandra's apartment. For 2 1/2 hours, they met with FBI agents and D.C. police officials, including lead Detective Ralph Durant and the chief of detectives, Jack Barrett. A Washington Post story the day after their arrival described the couple as "fuming" at the lack of cooperation from the D.C. police. A friend told reporters that they had "no idea what's going on with the investigation." Executive Assistant Police Chief Terrance W. Gainer defended his department. Gregarious and smooth-talking, the former Chicago homicide detective told reporters that he understood the couple's frustrations. "They're looking for answers, and we don't have them yet," he said. The Post story also contained the first statement about the case from the Levys' hometown congressman, Gary Condit, who had added $10,000 to a reward fund. "Chandra is a great person and a good friend," Condit said. "We hope she is found safe and sound." Condit's relationship with Chandra had not surfaced publicly. That was about to change. Reporters were hearing from their police sources that Condit had an ongoing relationship with Chandra, and Condit's aides were trying to knock down the rumors. A romance between the two "totally did not occur," Michael Lynch, Condit's chief of staff in Modesto, told reporters. Enlarge PhotoRobert and Susan Levy meet with Sen. Barbara Boxer. (Lucian Perkins - Post)On May 17, the Levys' second full day in Washington, they went to Capitol Hill to meet with their state's senators, Barbara Boxer and Dianne Feinstein. Then they held a news conference at the Key Bridge Marriott in Arlington County. Susan Levy tried to stay strong as her husband collapsed, leaning into his wife, weeping on her shoulder. The story was perfect for prime time. CNN and "Dateline NBC" began to air pieces about the missing intern. The Chandra Levy media frenzy was beginning. At 5:10 that afternoon, the Levys had another meeting with D.C. police. Susan Levy told them that she had a cryptic conversation with her daughter the previous month. Chandra had said she was dating someone, but she wouldn't say who: "He's highly visible. You'll understand in five years," she had said. On May 18, police convened a meeting with the FBI of what they called a "task force." They drew up a list of "suspect areas." Among them: Chandra's gym; the Bureau of Prisons, where she interned; Robert Kurkjian, one of the last people to spend time with Chandra, and his two roommates - a group of men the detectives had dubbed the "Pizza Party Acquaintances." FBI agents later gave polygraphs to Kurkjian and one of his roommates and determined that they had nothing to do with her disappearance. The task force also listed Sven Jones, a colleague of Chandra's at the Bureau of Prisons who worked out at the same gym, the Washington Sports Club. Chandra made her last cellphone call to him, three days before she disappeared. With rugged good looks, Jones painted and sculpted in his spare time and liked to quote Nietzsche. Jones cooperated with the police and told them that he and Chandra were friends and that she had told him about her affair with someone powerful in government. He also said he was in Canada with his girlfriend on the day Chandra called him. Detectives found that Jones was crossing the Canadian border around the time of Chandra's disappearance; he took a polygraph, passed and was excluded as a suspect. They listed one more suspect area: Condit, whom they referred to as the "C.M.," for the "congressman." The same day the task force met, The Post published a story that added more details about the rumors of an affair between Chandra and the congressman. It quoted Assistant Police Chief Ronald Monroe as saying Chandra had visited Condit's apartment "more than a couple times." Police Chief Charles H. Ramsey tried to tamp down the story. He told reporters that Monroe's statement was inaccurate - even though behind the scenes, Condit had told Ramsey's detectives that Chandra had visited him at his apartment several times, spending the night on a couple of occasions. "My assistant chief was speaking of a rumor," Ramsey said, "and there is nothing we have that confirms the young lady was at the congressman's apartment." By early June 2001, teams of police officers were trudging through the woods near Condit's condominium in Adams Morgan, looking for signs of Chandra. Ramsey said the location of the searches had nothing to do with the congressman. Gainer, Ramsey's top deputy, declared Condit "not a suspect." But the searches fueled speculation within the gathering pack of reporters and cameramen. Condit's Washington office began fielding calls from journalists preparing to report that Chandra had spent the night at his apartment. Reporters also were hearing that Chandra had talked about Condit to a relative, who had called police. There were also rumors on Capitol Hill and within the press corps that Condit's wife, Carolyn, was in Washington the weekend before Chandra disappeared. She attended a luncheon event for first lady Laura Bush on May 3, and she was reportedly upset, wearing a ball cap and sunglasses. It turned out that Carolyn was at the luncheon, but the tip about her being upset was based on bogus secondhand information. On the evening of June 6, Condit called lead detective Durant and complained that the police were leaking information about Chandra that he gave them in his May 9 interview. Durant denied that he did it and asked to talk to Condit again, informally. The congressman said he did not know if he would consent to another interview. He was too angry about the leaks and was losing his faith in the police department. http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-srv/metro/specials/chandra/ch4_1.html		Joined: 05 Jun 2006 Posts: 3332 Location: My only friend, the end



Phantom Posted: Thu Jul 24, 2008 5:04 pm
CHAPTER FIVE: A Secret Meeting Robert and Susan Levy were furious at Rep. Gary Condit. They believed he was hiding what he knew about the disappearance of their daughter, Chandra. On June 14, 2001, the couple took the dramatic step of holding a national news conference to plead with Condit to disclose whatever he might know. To turn up the pressure on Condit and the police, the Levys had hired one of the best and brightest lawyers in Washington, a smooth and seasoned litigator named William Martin, known around town simply as Billy. A week after the news conference, the couple were back in Washington in Martin's Watergate office along the Potomac River. At 51, Martin was equally comfortable on the streets and in the halls of official power, a go-to guy in Washington's legal world. A former homicide prosecutor with the U.S. attorney's office in Washington, Martin had helped build the crack-cocaine case against former D.C. mayor Marion Barry. As a defense lawyer, Martin had clients ranging from the mother of Monica Lewinsky to Philadelphia 76ers basketball star Allen Iverson. Martin brought in two former veteran D.C. detectives. Dwayne Stanton, a heavy-set man with a shaved head and an infectious charm, had investigated homicides for 15 years. J.T. "Joe" McCann, a thin, street-smart New Yorker with a roguish smile, had spent 30 years working homicides, drug investigations and public-integrity cases. The Levys weren't the only ones who retained a high-profile lawyer. Condit hired Abbe Lowell, 49, a tough-talking criminal defense attorney known for representing powerful people who took well-publicized tumbles. During the Lewinsky scandal, Lowell served as chief Democratic investigative counsel for the House of Representatives, leading efforts to keep President Bill Clinton from being impeached. Martin tried to put pressure on the police to step up the Chandra investigation, using news conferences. He set up an 800 number to take tips and pledged to conduct his own investigation, a public swipe at the police. D.C. Chief of Detectives Jack Barrett said the police were considering three possibilities: Chandra ran away; she committed suicide; or she fell victim to foul play. "No theory holds any more weight than any of the others," he told reporters nearly two months after Chandra's disappearance. The police put out a poster of Chandra with four hairstyles. Martin and the Levys thought the suicide and runaway theories were ridiculous. They believed that the police were bungling the case by not moving fast enough. To defuse the situation, the lawyers agreed to a secret meeting between Susan Levy and Condit. It would be an off-the-record, face-to-face sit-down, far from the cameras. Martin and Lowell went back and forth before settling on a list of a few questions Levy would be permitted to ask: When did you first meet Chandra? How often did you see her? When was the last time you saw her? Do you have any information about where she is now? On the evening of June 21, 2001, Susan Levy and Martin stepped into the wood-paneled lobby of the Jefferson Hotel, a Beaux-Arts building four blocks from the White House. They walked to a private banquet room. Robert Levy was not with them; he was too distraught to face the man he believed may have had something to do with his daughter's disappearance. When she finally met Gary Condit in person, Susan Levy was surprised to find that he did not look like Harrison Ford, her daughter's favorite movie star. He was shorter than she thought he would be and, to her, didn't resemble the actor. Her mind reeled with questions: Where is my daughter? What are you hiding? Condit extended his hand. Levy refused it. She sat down with Martin across the table from Condit and Lowell and began to ask her questions, her hands quivering. She could barely focus on Condit's answers and would not remember them later. When she asked if he knew where Chandra was, he said, "Mrs. Levy, I don't know. Really, I don't." She believed he knew more than he was saying. And then, before she knew it, the meeting was over. When they stood, the congressman approached her. On June 23, Condit agreed to meet the D.C. detectives a second time. He was still angry about the leaks and complained that his comments to police had wound up in the newspaper. But the congressman wanted to cooperate, to put the case behind him. He and Lowell met the detectives at 2:55 p.m. inside a private Georgetown residence. During the hour-long interview, the detectives had dozens of questions. Condit answered all but one. He told the detectives he last saw Chandra at his apartment on April 24 or 25. They talked about the end of her internship and her plans to return to California. Condit repeated his statement that he had no idea what happened to her; there was nothing unusual about her mood; and they hadn't argued. She wasn't complaining about problems with other people. She wasn't angry with anyone. The detectives asked the congressman about his relationship with Chandra. He described her as a constituent who became a friend and said she believed he could help advance her career. He restated what he had told them before: that he had met her in the fall of 2000 when she and a friend stopped by his Capitol Hill office. He said Chandra came to his apartment three or four times. He said that they never went outside of Washington together and that he never gave her any gifts. This contradicted the statement of Chandra's aunt, Linda Zamsky, who had told police that the congressman had given her niece a gold bracelet. When police asked Condit about the bracelet, he said he never gave one to Chandra. Barrett asked Condit to account for his whereabouts between April 28 and May 3. Condit said he didn't see Chandra during that time. On Saturday, April 28, he said, he rode his bicycle to a U.S. Capitol gym and returned to his apartment that night. On Sunday, April 29, he spent the day and night with his wife. Around noon, he called Chandra on his cellphone and spoke to her for less than two minutes. He couldn't recall the details of the conversation. On April 30, he worked in his congressional office. On May 1, the day Chandra disappeared, Condit said, he left his apartment at 11 in the morning and worked until 6:30, when he went out to dinner at Tryst in Adams Morgan. He would later tell the detectives that he met with Vice President Cheney early that afternoon. On May 2, Condit worked on Capitol Hill, then went shopping and had dinner at an Adams Morgan restaurant with his wife. On May 3, Condit said, his wife returned to California. Lowell had told the detectives to assume Condit and Chandra had a relationship and to avoid questions that were not germane. But Durant pressed Condit for more details about the relationship. Lowell interrupted, directing his client not to answer. Condit would later say that police had learned everything they needed from him in their first 45-minute interview with him a month earlier, on May 9. "There was nothing else," he said. "Every meeting after that they just added stuff, you know, things that they could think of, you know, about other women or whatever." Tips were pouring in to the D.C. police department from all over the world at a furious pace, each one stranger than the last. Hundreds of psychics and oddballs were phoning in with their hunches, their visions and their sightings. Some of the tips were plausible. Others were not. All took time away from the case. Police were frustrated. They were spending an unprecedented amount of time on the case and not getting a meaningful break - a witness, a piece of physical evidence, a solid tip from an informant. Instead, they were hearing about ghostly visions. One psychic said that Chandra's throat was slashed and that she was put in a body bag and stowed in the basement of a Smithsonian storage building in Anacostia. Police checked the building but found nothing. Another said Chandra was murdered and dumped in the Potomac near the Memorial Bridge. A dive team found nothing. Another caller said Chandra was a victim of a suicide bombing in Israel. Police called their counterparts there; it wasn't true. Another psychic told a Maryland state trooper that Chandra was buried in Howard County. Troopers checked the site, but it was another false lead. One tipster said that Chandra died in Nevada during a botched abortion by a veterinarian and that she was buried in the desert, a tip that fed a persistent rumor that Chandra was pregnant. The private investigators went out West, but came back empty-handed. The Secret Service was brought in for its expertise at analyzing cellphone calls. Agents discovered that weeks before she disappeared, Chandra made a call that was picked up by a cellphone tower near the Columbia Hospital for Women in Foggy Bottom. Detectives checked with the hospital to find out whether it performed abortions. It didn't. http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-srv/metro/specials/chandra/ch5_2.html		Joined: 05 Jun 2006 Posts: 3332 Location: My only friend, the end



Phantom Posted: Thu Jul 24, 2008 5:09 pm
CHAPTER SIX: The Predator in the Park While D.C. police focused most of their investigative efforts on Rep. Gary Condit and his relationship to missing intern Chandra Levy, they were slow to recognize another lead. It involved a man who was attacking women in the woods of Rock Creek Park. The day Chandra disappeared, May 1, 2001, Ingmar A. Guandique, a 19-year-old illegal Salvadoran immigrant, did not show up for his construction job. Around that time, he went to stay with his former landlady, Sheila Phillips Cruz, the manager of an apartment building on Somerset Place NW. Cruz noticed that Guandique looked like he had been in a bad fight, his face battered and bruised. He had a fat lip, a bloody blemish in his eye and scratches around his throat. Guandique (pronounced GWAN-dee-keh) had come from a hard-scrabble hamlet near the city of San Miguel in El Salvador. His father was kidnapped by guerrillas during the Salvadoran civil war, before Guandique's birth in 1981, and later executed. The son grew up in an adobe house with a dirt floor, no running water and an open pit for cooking meals. The home was decorated with family photos and pictures of Jesus Christ and the Virgin Mary taped to pink and white sheets of plastic that served as wallpaper. Guandique wanted a better life in America. A friend of the family lent him $5,000 to pay a "coyote" to smuggle him across the Texas border with more than 50 others. The seventh-grade dropout left home in January 2000, eventually swimming across the Rio Grande, crossing the border near Piedras Negras and arriving in Houston in March 2000. From there, he made his way to Washington to join his half-brother, Huber, and other family friends. Within a month, Guandique began picking up day jobs on construction sites and sending small amounts of money back home. He also had financial obligations to the family that paid his way. And he had another obligation: his ex-girlfriend, who was pregnant when Guandique left and later gave birth to a boy. In fall 2000, Guandique met a new girl, Iris Portillo. She was a tiny woman; even though she was a year older than Guandique, she looked 13. In early 2001, Guandique began to live with Portillo and her mother in their apartment on Somerset Place. The young couple took walks near the National Zoo and picnicked in Rock Creek Park. He was enamored with her. He bought her jewelry, including a ring at a Georgia Avenue pawn shop. Guandique was having a hard time adjusting to living on the bottom rung of the American economy. He barely spoke English. He was not used to the routine: waking up at dawn, getting to the work site on time, spending the day toiling at a menial job. He struggled to pay the bills, send money home and buy the nice things Portillo wanted. In early spring 2001, Guandique started to spend more time drinking and hanging around Rock Creek Park. He began to carry a six-inch knife wrapped in a red cloth. After finding letters from one of Portillo's old boyfriends from El Salvador, he struck her. He once bit her hard above her breast, leaving a scar, and he warned her not to stray. He would later say that Iris broke his heart. Another time he kicked in the bedroom door of their apartment, splintering the wood. He slammed his head against the bathroom wall, making a hole in the plaster. He punched Portillo in the face. He held his hands to her throat, saying that if he couldn't have her, no one could. Finally, Portillo's mother had seen enough. She told Guandique to leave her apartment and stay away from her daughter. At 1:15 on the afternoon of May 7, Guandique broke into the apartment of Tomasa Orellana, a neighbor on Somerset Place. He was wearing red work gloves, black pants and a baseball cap, and was carrying three screwdrivers - a poor man's burglary kit. He snatched a gold wedding band. But Orellana came home sooner than expected and saw Guandique, whom she recognized from the neighborhood, crouching in a corner of her bedroom. She screamed and Guandique took off. Orellana called the police, who began to look for the suspect. He was 5-foot-8, 140 pounds, with black hair, deep brown eyes, a broad forehead and a flat nose that looked as though it had been broken before. When officers spotted him a few blocks away, they found the screwdrivers and the wedding band in his pockets. Orellana identified Guandique as the man in her bedroom. He was booked on burglary charges and released the same day on a promise to return to court May 29. A week after Guandique's burglary arrest, on May 14, Halle Shilling, 30, a tall, blond, athletic aspiring writer, was taking her regular run through Rock Creek Park. Around 6:30 p.m., she started to jog from the Peirce Mill, a former flour operation, while listening to music on her yellow Sony Walkman. As she headed north toward the Western Ridge Trail, she saw a young Hispanic man sitting on the curb of a parking lot near Broad Branch Road. Unknown to Shilling, he got up and ran behind her on a trail that ran along Beach Drive. He let her run another mile or so, deeper into the park. At the top of the hill, Shilling sensed that someone was behind her. She thought it was another runner, and she slowed to let him pass. Instead, the Hispanic man jumped on her back and grabbed her around the throat. They fell to the ground and tussled on the trail. The hum of the rush-hour traffic below drowned out her screams. She saw his knife. "No! No! No!" she shouted. "Shhhh," the man ordered. Shilling jammed her fingers into her attacker's mouth, digging her nails beneath his tongue, as she had been taught in a self-defense class years earlier. The man bit her fingers, but released her and ran off. Shilling made her way to a U.S. Park Police station. She reported the crime and said she didn't believe her assailant was trying to rob her. He didn't take her Walkman or her large diamond engagement ring. She thought he was trying to rape or kill her. Seven weeks later, on July 1, 2001, at 7:30 p.m., Christy Wiegand and her fiance were jogging in the northern section of Rock Creek Park. It had been raining on and off all day. Wiegand, 25, a former varsity rower at Princeton and a recent Cornell University Law School graduate, was an anti-trust lawyer for Arnold & Porter. Her wedding date was seven weeks away. She was tall and blond, her 5-foot-11 frame moving steadily along the trail, wearing her Walkman. Her fiance ran ahead and was soon out of sight. Wiegand suddenly sensed that someone was quickly coming up from behind. Before she realized what was happening, a man wrapped his arms tightly around her and pulled her off the trail near Wise Road and Beach Drive. The two tumbled into a ravine, and Wiegand saw a knife. The attacker held the blade to her chin. She screamed, and he covered her mouth, ordering her to shut up. She couldn't believe how fast it had happened. Ten seconds earlier, she was jogging peacefully along the path. Now, she was fighting for her life, terrified that she was about to be raped and killed. She stopped struggling for a few seconds, and the attacker let down his guard, relaxing his hold. Wiegand started fighting again and began to scream. The attacker fled, disappearing into the woods. Wiegand scrambled to Beach Drive, cut, bruised and badly shaken. She flagged down a passing motorist, who took her to a U.S. Park Police station. She said her attacker was a young Hispanic male wearing a white tank top; knee-length black, baggy shorts; and sneakers. Park Police officers fanned out and scrambled Eagle One, a blue-and-white Bell helicopter based across town in Anacostia Park. At 8:15 that night, 45 minutes after the attack, two officers picked up a man near a golf course in Rock Creek Park, not far from 16th Street. His clothes were wet. He was covered with leaves. Police drove Wiegand to the scene, where she identified him as her attacker. He was Ingmar Guandique. He was handcuffed and jailed inside a small stone substation in the center of the park that police called the Rock Creek Hotel. Around 1 a.m. July 2, three Park Police officers, including a translator, entered his cell. The officers tried to win Guandique's confidence. They kept the cell door open, gave him some water and food and let him use the restroom. Guandique agreed to talk without a lawyer. He said he had been working as a carpenter but didn't have a job at the moment. Leading the interrogation was Joe Green, a seasoned detective with nearly 30 years on the job. A big, balding man with a gentle demeanor, the D.C. native prided himself on knowing the city and getting people to talk. Through the translator, Green asked Guandique if he assaulted someone in the park about six hours earlier. Guandique said no. Green tried another tactic. He asked Guandique whether it was possible that he bumped into a woman and the encounter was a misunderstanding. Guandique said that it was. He explained that he was jogging in the park when he felt a pain in his knee. He bent over to massage it and a female jogger ran into him, causing both of them to tumble off the trail. Guandique said he tried to help the jogger, but she began to fight and scream. Flustered, Guandique said, he ran away. Guandique had just implicated himself in the attack on Wiegand. Green told Guandique that the jogger said he had a knife. Guandique said no, she probably saw the glint off his gold bracelet and mistook it for a knife. Green recalled another unsolved attack in the park - the May 14 incident involving Halle Shilling. He asked Guandique if there were any other times he had accidentally bumped into someone in Rock Creek Park. No, Guandique said at first. But then he changed his story. Yes, he said, there was something a month or two earlier. He had seen a tall woman with long hair running with a yellow radio; he jogged behind her, and she looked over her shoulder, causing her to fall. Guandique said he tried to help her up, but she screamed, so he ran off. Guandique had just implicated himself in the attack on Shilling. Guandique was charged with assault and kidnapping in the attack on Wiegand, who had identified him. But the Shilling case would have to await a photo lineup. Green later told The Washington Post that he posed one more question to Guandique. He showed him a D.C. police flier with a photograph of Chandra Levy, the missing intern. Have you ever seen this woman in Rock Creek Park? Green asked. Guandique said he had. He saw her one day when he was hanging around the parking lot near the Peirce Mill. Green then asked Guandique if he thought she was attractive. Yes, he said, but he never saw her again. Green did not include any comment by Guandique about Chandra in his report, and he does not remember telling any other officers at the time. Back then, it didn't seem important. He said he was focused on the assaults on Wiegand and Shilling. Chandra could be anywhere. Her disappearance was not a Park Police case. "It wasn't mine to pursue," he said recently. http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-srv/metro/specials/chandra/ch6_1.html		Joined: 05 Jun 2006 Posts: 3332 Location: My only friend, the end



Phantom Posted: Thu Jul 24, 2008 5:11 pm
CHAPTER SEVEN: Crisis in Condit Country By the first week of July 2001, D.C. detectives investigating the May 1 disappearance of Chandra Levy still had no idea that a man had been attacking young female joggers at knifepoint in Rock Creek Park. Rep. Gary Condit remained the center of police attention. The week would begin badly for him and rapidly get worse. On July 2, Anne Marie Smith, the United Airlines flight attendant who told police she had an affair with Condit, went public on Fox News with a sensational story. She said that a Condit representative had tried to get her to sign an affidavit denying the relationship. Smith's story had first appeared in Star magazine, a racy supermarket tabloid that paid Smith's roommate $2,500 for the tip. Smith said she soon received a call from the Condit representative. He said he had an affidavit that he wanted her to sign. It read: "I do not and have not had a relationship with Congressman Condit other than being acquainted with him. I declare under penalty of perjury under the laws of the United States of America that the foregoing is true and correct." Smith was scared, and she called a family friend who practiced law in Seattle. The lawyer told the Condit representative that Smith would not sign the affidavit because it wasn't true. Condit said in a recent interview with The Washington Post that he had no relationship with Smith and had nothing to do with the affidavit. He called Smith's account "a paid story." Smith denied that she was paid for the story. With the bad news hanging over him, Condit skipped the annual Fourth of July parade in Modesto, Calif., which for nearly 20 years had been a personal celebration of sorts for the congressman. Customarily, he rode in a convertible driven by one of his aides down a street that hometown hero George Lucas made famous in "American Graffiti." Michael Lynch, the congressman's chief of staff in Modesto, said Condit was sorry he couldn't make it. "Another circumstance arose that he had to attend to," Lynch told reporters. Amid the crowd were people holding placards with pictures of Chandra. Others stood in silence, bearing yellow ribbons. Some were vocal. "We want answers from Congressman Condit!" one called out. The next day, there was another explosive development: Linda Zamsky, Chandra's 40-year-old aunt and confidante who lived near the Elk River in Chesapeake City, Md., went before the cameras. The fast-talking, curly-haired native of Philadelphia said she was tired of hearing congressional aides deny that Condit had an affair with her niece. Zamsky said Chandra had confided in her during numerous conversations and long walks when the intern visited her aunt for Thanksgiving in 2000 and Passover a few months later. Chandra told her that Condit kept cactus in his apartment, that his favorite ice cream was Ben & Jerry's chocolate chip cookie dough. She said the congressman gave her Godiva chocolates and a gold bracelet, which she showed to her aunt. Zamsky said her niece told her that they had a five-year plan: Condit would leave his wife and start a family with Chandra. But until then, she had to avoid being seen when she was in Condit's building. Zamsky last heard from Chandra on April 29, two days before she disappeared. She left a message on her aunt's answering machine, saying she was heading back to California and had some "big news." Zamsky said she didn't sound upset. In his recent Post interview, Condit denied that he told Chandra he wanted to start a new life with her. "I don't believe the aunt knows anything about me," he said. "I had no interest in starting a family and leaving my wife. Those conversations never occurred. It's just made up." Condit said the last time he spoke with Chandra, on April 29, he told her he would help her line up job interviews with the FBI and CIA. On July 5, as Zamsky was going before the cameras, police were interviewing Condit's wife, Carolyn, in an FBI office near the Tysons Corner Center. It was the "circumstance" that prevented the Condits from attending the Fourth of July parade in Modesto. Also in the meeting were Assistant U.S. Attorneys Barbara Kittay and Heidi Pasichow. The prosecutors were assigned to supervise the investigation, guiding detectives and FBI agents to ensure that they were putting together a court-ready case. Kittay had worked as a prosecutor in Philadelphia and at the Justice Department before joining the U.S. attorney's office in Washington. Pasichow was a veteran of the D.C. office, serving as a deputy of its homicide division at one point. Both women had won convictions in a number of high-profile cases. Now they were focusing on Gary Condit. Carolyn Condit was slender and attractive, a kind, thoughtful woman who had been an asset to the congressman's political career. She said she had a close relationship with her husband of 34 years. They talked twice every day, and he returned to their California home in Ceres almost every weekend. The investigators wanted to know when she first heard about Chandra. Carolyn Condit described the phone call she received on May 6 from Robert Levy, who wanted to talk to her husband about his missing daughter. Carolyn told the investigators that the missing intern and her husband were just friends. They asked if she was aware that Chandra had visited her husband's apartment as "just friends." The Condits' attorney, Abbe Lowell, interrupted, instructing Carolyn not to answer by invoking the marital privilege. Jack Barrett, the chief of D.C. detectives, who supervised the case, was uncomfortable with the tenor of the questioning by the prosecutors. It was "very combative," Barrett recalled. Kittay said she was just trying to elicit information. "It wasn't hostile," she said. During the three-hour interview, Carolyn was asked to account for her whereabouts around the time Chandra went missing. She said she flew to Washington on April 28 for a luncheon event for first lady Laura Bush at the Washington Hilton. While she was in town, she stayed with her husband at his Adams Morgan apartment and met him for brunch and dinner. One day, they shopped together in the neighborhood. After the May 3 luncheon, she flew home to Ceres. The next day, July 6, Barrett had a private meeting with Lowell at a Starbucks at Seventh and H streets, across from the colorful, seven-roofed wooden archway in Washington's tiny Chinatown. During their initial search of Chandra's apartment, Barrett's detectives found a pair of black panties stained with semen along with other dirty laundry in a Williams-Sonoma bag on the breakfast countertop. The prosecutors wanted to know if the semen belonged to Gary Condit or if Chandra was seeing another man. A DNA test was the only way to find out. During the Starbucks meeting, Lowell said his client would consent to a third interview and answer detailed questions about his relationship with Chandra. Lowell and Barrett agreed to put the question of a DNA test aside for the moment. At 8:30 that night Condit sat down with Barrett, lead Detective Ralph Durant and Kittay, the prosecutor, in Lowell's downtown Washington office. Kittay pressed the congressman to be precise about the nature of his friendship with Chandra. Condit stated that the relationship started in November 2000. He said Chandra came over to his Adams Morgan apartment a couple of times a week, usually showing up in her gym outfit and carrying a backpack with a change of clothes. Condit also admitted giving Chandra a gold bracelet; in a previous interview with police he denied that he had. Kittay then asked questions about other women. Lowell objected. Finally, Kittay asked Condit to submit to a DNA test. Lowell blew up. He and Kittay began yelling at each other. "It was like an atomic bomb going off," Barrett recalled. He said he and Condit looked at each other, and both rolled their eyes. Lowell abruptly ended the meeting and told the police and the prosecutor to leave his office. http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-srv/metro/specials/chandra/ch7_1.html		Joined: 05 Jun 2006 Posts: 3332 Location: My only friend, the end



Phantom Posted: Thu Jul 24, 2008 5:13 pm
CHAPTER EIGHT: A Singular Focus About 10 p.m. on July 9, Gary Condit and his lawyer met lead Detective Ralph Durant in the dimly lit parking lot behind the Giant supermarket on Wisconsin Avenue near the National Cathedral. Cooler heads had prevailed, and Condit had agreed to give a DNA sample. Durant used a cotton swab to quickly take a sample of saliva from the congressman's mouth. No words were exchanged. The procedure took less than a minute. The detective turned the sample over to the D.C. Police Mobile Crime Unit, which sent it to the FBI laboratory at Quantico for testing. During their initial search of Chandra's apartment, D.C. police found a pair of black panties stained with semen. Prosecutors wanted to know if the semen belonged to Condit or if Chandra was seeing another man. The DNA from Condit's saliva was compared with the DNA on the panties. It was a match. To D.C. Chief of Detectives Jack Barrett, the match added little to the case. It just confirmed what he already knew: The congressman had been having an affair with the missing intern. Barrett thought Condit was simply trying to save his marriage and his political career. But Barrett said the DNA match strengthened the suspicions of the prosecutors overseeing the investigation, Assistant U.S. Attorneys Barbara Kittay and Heidi Pasichow. "The prosecutors think this is more proof that he did it," Barrett recalled. "To the prosecutors, it was an aha moment." Barrett thought the prosecutors were too focused on Condit's relationships with women as a possible key to Chandra's disappearance. He thought they were placing too many demands on his detectives, ordering them to follow all leads relating to Condit and his aides, leaving little time to follow other investigative paths. The prosecutors saw it differently. The DNA match was one piece of a large puzzle surrounding Chandra and Condit that they were trying to assemble. Kittay said they would have been remiss not to focus on Condit because he knew Chandra's patterns of behavior. "We spent the most amount of time on the person that spent the most amount of time with Chandra," she said. The media frenzy was adding to the tension between the police and the prosecutors. While the DNA match was one of the investigation's few details that did not leak out, the prosecutors were furious at the police over the many other leaks, which created an enormous distraction for everyone and had the potential to compromise the case. "It was an impossible situation to manage," Kittay recalled. "Everyone wanted to be a hero. Everyone wanted to solve it." She said the prosecutor's office, unlike the police, did not leak or hold news conferences. Kittay was so upset by the leaks, she said, that she eventually asked to be taken off the case. Behind the scenes, Barrett had asked that new prosecutors be assigned to it. On July 10, the day after Condit gave his DNA sample, television satellite trucks were camped outside his apartment building. Pedestrians could barely squeeze by. In the halls of Congress, reporters were hounding him. The summertime scandal was attracting worldwide attention and getting picked up by news outlets around the globe, from the Daily Mail in London to the Mercury in Hobart, Australia, to the Xinhua News Agency in China. Reporters had been tipped off that the police were about to search Condit's apartment for the first time. Tabloid reporters were offering cash for information. The story had become a national soap opera, with wall-to-wall coverage on cable television shows such as "Crossfire," "Hannity & Colmes" and "Hardball." At 11:15 that night, with the media looking on, police officers and crime-scene technicians pulled up in unmarked cars, entered the building and began searching the congressman's fourth-floor apartment. Mobile Crime Unit technicians took swabs from his bathroom's floor, doorknob, walls and bathtub. During the 3 1/2-hour search, they collected hair from a shoe in a closet and took lint from a clothes dryer. The cameramen on the street shot footage of technicians inside the darkened apartment using ultraviolet lights to search for forensic evidence - blood, fingerprints, fibers - bathing the scene in an eerie purple glow. "I never counted on them wanting to focus all this attention on me," Condit later recalled. "I've been around politics a long time and really never felt that the press was as brutal and as incompetent as they were going to be." About three hours before police started to search his apartment, the congressman and one of his top aides, Michael Dayton, drove to Alexandria in Dayton's black Volkswagen Jetta. About 8 p.m., the Jetta pulled up to the curb at Route 1 and Vernon Street, near a McDonald's. Daniel Olson, a law firm temp who lived in the neighborhood, was driving home when he saw a man he recognized as Condit step out of the passenger side of the car. He watched Condit stroll over to a trash can, push something deep inside and return to the Jetta, which pulled away. Olson was intrigued. He would later tell police that he walked over to the trash can and looked in. He saw a little black square, the size of a computer disk, and pulled it out. It was a black cardboard box for a Tag Heuer watch. The box was torn and flattened. Inside, Olson found a manual and a warranty, but no watch. He brought the box to his apartment and showed it to his roommates. The next day, Olson tossed it back into the same trash can and went to work, where a colleague who once worked for the Baltimore Police Department urged him to call the D.C. police. Detective Lawrence Kennedy drove to Alexandria and retrieved the box, the manual and the warranty. Police determined that the box had contained a watch that Joleen Argentini McKay, a former member of Condit's congressional staff, gave to him. Today, Condit says the watch box incident was the result of a misunderstanding. He said police and tabloid reporters were going through his garbage, and he merely wanted to preserve his privacy. "They're saying a woman gave me a watch and I threw the watch box away," he said recently. "Even if that's true, so? What's that? What does that mean? It was nothing." At the time, detectives were puzzled. They tried to eliminate Condit as a suspect, but he was making it difficult. Why did he keep a watch box for nearly seven years? And why did he throw it out hours before their search of his apartment? They believed that the congressman, at the very least, was obstructing the investigation. "He did foolish things over the course of time," Barrett recalled. "We had to address him. There was so much energy that was wasted on this issue. He goes and gets real goofy on us. We couldn't eliminate him." http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-srv/metro/specials/chandra/ch8_1.html		Joined: 05 Jun 2006 Posts: 3332 Location: My only friend, the end



Phantom Posted: Thu Jul 24, 2008 5:16 pm
CHAPTER NINE: Media Frenzy The Chandra Levy case spun out of control in mid-July 2001 with a series of sensational stories. On July 12, 2001, The Washington Post recounted a tale from a Pentecostal minister in Rep. Gary Condit's home town of Ceres, Calif., who had worked as a handyman for the Levys. He said his teenage daughter once dated the congressman, but she was afraid to talk to the FBI and had gone into hiding. A week after the account became front-page news, the minister recanted his story to the FBI. "It really hurt me," Condit said in a recent interview. "It hurt me personally; it hurt me professionally; it accused me of committing a crime, of having sex with a minor. It put me in such a dark state, I didn't think I was going to get out." D.C. detectives remained focused on Condit. They wanted to give him a polygraph test, but the congressman, burned by the leaks and the news coverage, refused. He and his attorney, Abbe Lowell, hired their own polygraph examiner. On July 13, Lowell announced that his client had passed the test. There were three questions: Did Condit have anything to do with Chandra's disappearance? Did he harm her or cause anyone else to harm her? And did he know where she could be found? Police Chief Charles H. Ramsey dismissed the test as a farce with "no investigative value." FBI experts agreed. "He may have tried to sell it to us, but we're not buying it," Ramsey said. Driven by a drumbeat of lurid disclosures, the case reached an apogee of publicity, with a remarkable 63 percent of Americans following the story closely, according to a CNN/USA Today/Gallup poll. By late July, with tensions between police and Condit at an all-time high, the detectives requested a fourth interview with the congressman. This one would be conducted by Brad Garrett, a storied FBI agent with an all-black wardrobe who blended old-fashioned shoe leather with a Zen-like interviewing style. Garrett had spent four years hunting down and obtaining a confession from Mir Aimal Kasi, a Pakistani who in 1993 killed two CIA employees outside the agency's Langley headquarters. Garrett also obtained a confession from Ramzi Yousef, the mastermind of the 1993 World Trade Center bombing. And he helped solve the 1997 slayings of three Starbucks employees in Georgetown. The former Marine from Indiana with a PhD in criminology was so successful at closing murder cases that colleagues called him "Dr. Death." On July 26, Garrett - along with D.C. Detectives Ralph Durant and Lawrence Kennedy - interviewed Condit in Lowell's downtown Washington office. The congressman provided dates and details about his relationship with Chandra, some of them new. The investigators said they were building a profile of Chandra and needed more information about her habits. Condit said she was a vegetarian, she was always upbeat, she took vitamins, she didn't take drugs or drink. She was mature for her age and very savvy. He described her as frugal, noting that her wardrobe looked like it came from a Macy's-type department store, not Nordstrom. He said he had been surprised that she ended the lease on her apartment because he expected her to return soon after her May 11 graduation from the University of Southern California. Garrett came away with a gut feeling: Condit was not their guy. The Modesto Bee had stood by Condit's side in nearly every fight of his 30-year political career, but on Aug. 12, the largest newspaper in his district called for his resignation. The Bee's editorial board concluded that the congressman "knowingly hindered" the police investigation into Chandra's disappearance. "For 15 weeks, Condit has put his own interests ahead of the effort to find Levy," the editorial said. "His self-absorption has been a lapse not only of judgment, but of human decency." Condit launched a last-ditch public relations campaign, hiring Marina Ein, a well-connected Washington media guru. The congressman and his wife consented to a People magazine cover story. Condit also agreed to speak publicly about Chandra for the first time on ABC's "PrimeTime Thursday," in an interview with Connie Chung. In TV news circles, this was considered the biggest "get" since Barbara Walters got Monica Lewinsky to talk about President Bill Clinton. On the eve of his appearance, Condit wrote a letter to his constituents. "Some suggest that not talking with the media could mean I had something to do with Chandra's disappearance. I did not," he wrote. "I will be interviewed on television and hopefully I will be able to answer questions that help people understand. It is not something I look forward to. But things have gone on long enough." The interview, broadcast Aug. 23, didn't go the way Condit planned. Chung rattled him with one of her first questions: Did you kill Chandra Levy? He said no, then was reserved for the rest of the session. "She could have pulled my fingernails out. She could have started putting long knives down my throat - I would not have given her any information," Condit recently recalled in an interview with The Post. During the ABC interview, he declined to answer questions about whether he had an affair with Chandra. He said that he was not a perfect man and that he made mistakes. "But out of respect for my family, out of a specific request by the Levy family, it is best that I not get into the details of the relationship," he said repeatedly. Condit's performance was uniformly criticized as evasive. Robert and Susan Levy were appalled - they said they had made no "specific request" that Condit be discreet about their daughter. Political party leaders and major newspapers called for him to step down. "I knew within a couple weeks my career was gone," he recalled in The Post interview. While the world was focused on Condit, a Salvadoran immigrant was sitting in jail, charged with attacking women at knifepoint in Rock Creek Park. Chandra had searched the Internet for something to do in the park on the day she disappeared; the man in jail would seem to be a prime suspect for the detectives looking for her. But after the man's arrest on July 1 by the U.S. Park Police, 19 days passed before D.C. detectives in the Chandra case said they heard about the man. On July 20, one of the detectives would later note, they got a tip that a Hispanic man had exposed himself to a woman named Karen Mosley nine weeks earlier in Rock Creek Park. The case had been investigated by the Park Police. Toward the end of May, Mosley, 29, was walking with her dog along a path in the park that began at the old Peirce Mill when she saw a young Hispanic man exposing himself. He ran off when her dog snarled at him. Mosley ran back to the mill and called police from a pay phone. A Park Police officer told her she was lucky: There was a predator in the park who had attacked a woman jogging on a nearby trail. On July 24, when D.C. detectives contacted the Park Police for additional details about Mosley, they said, they learned for the first time about an attack in the park. Ingmar Guandique, the Salvadoran, was being held for assaulting Christy Wiegand on July 1. Detectives later noted that police called Mosley the day they received the tip, July 20, but Mosley said no one from the D.C. police contacted her that summer. "That didn't happen," she later recalled. "I would have remembered that." As Chandra's disappearance turned into a round-the-clock news story in mid-July, Mosley grew frustrated by the intense coverage of Condit. "It was making me crazy," she recalled. "The entire focus was on this guy. I kept saying to my friends, 'They're not focusing on this guy in the woods.'" Detectives in the Levy case would not pursue the information about Ingmar Guandique for another two months. Mosley said she wasn't interviewed by D.C. police until the first week of September, more than three months after the incident. By then, she was unable to identify the suspect. http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-srv/metro/specials/chandra/ch9_1.html		Joined: 05 Jun 2006 Posts: 3332 Location: My only friend, the end



Phantom Posted: Thu Jul 24, 2008 5:19 pm
CHAPTER TEN: A Jailhouse Informant On Sept. 11, 2001, terrorists struck the World Trade Center and the Pentagon, and the four-month-old Chandra Levy story quickly dropped off the front pages of newspapers around the world. In Modesto, the satellite television trucks that had been parked outside Robert and Susan Levy's home pulled away. In Washington, law enforcement resources were shifted from Chandra's case to terrorism-related tasks. It had been four months since Chandra had disappeared. During one of her last computer searches on the day she vanished, she had pulled up a map of Rock Creek Park. Police recruits had looked for her in the park. But neither the D.C. detectives nor the prosecutors on the Chandra case had focused on a man who confessed July 2 to his involvement in attacks on two women in the park. The man, a 20-year-old Salvadoran named Ingmar Guandique, did not catch the attention of prosecutors until mid-September, when they heard that Guandique allegedly told a jailhouse informant that he had killed Chandra. On Sept. 21, Guandique was removed from his jail cell and brought to the U.S. attorney's office in Washington for questioning by prosecutors and D.C. detectives. He was accompanied by a public defender. Guandique was shown a picture of Chandra. He said the only place he had ever seen her was on television. That contradicted what a former Park Police detective later told The Washington Post. Joe Green, who interrogated Guandique on July 2, said that at that time he showed Chandra's picture to Guandique and the Salvadoran said he had seen her in the park. Green was present at the meeting in the U.S. attorney's office. To this day, Green does not remember that meeting or whether he passed on to D.C. police or prosecutors the information he said he got from Guandique. "I should have said something," Green would later comment. On Oct. 19, D.C. police and federal prosecutors went to the D.C. jail to interview the informant, whose name is being withheld by The Post to protect him against reprisals from other prisoners. The informant said that he had befriended Guandique during strolls around the jail's exercise yard. Guandique was awaiting trial on charges in the attacks in the park on May 14 and July 1. The informant said that one day in August Guandique looked depressed and said something was weighing on him. Guandique, the informant said, confessed to murdering a woman in the park named Chandra Levy, the intern whose picture had been splashed all over television. There was more: Guandique said Rep. Gary Condit paid him to do it. He didn't realize who Condit was until he later saw his picture on TV. Guandique had been walking in the Adams Morgan neighborhood when a car pulled to the curb. Condit offered him money - $25,000 to kill a woman. The congressman provided him with her picture and a location where he could find her. The informant said Guandique told him he took drugs and drank alcohol to steel himself for the attack. He went to the location Condit gave him and saw Chandra running on a path. Guandique hid in the bushes. When Chandra circled back, he jumped out and attacked her, stabbing her in the neck and the stomach. She fell to the ground, and Guandique carried her body far into the woods. He dug a hole with his hands and covered Chandra with dirt, leaves and sticks. He left the knife in her body and later considered retrieving it but never did. He sent the $25,000 to his family in El Salvador. The informant called his lawyer and said that he wanted to come forward because he felt badly for Chandra's parents after seeing them on TV. The informant recently repeated his story to The Post. D.C. police and prosecutors weren't sure what to make of the informant's story. They thought the part about Condit was ridiculous, but they wondered if Guandique still might have been involved in Chandra's disappearance. Could he have embellished his account with a Condit angle to make himself a big man in prison? On Nov. 28, the informant, who spoke little English, took a polygraph exam at the U.S. attorney's office. He failed it. The results of the FBI-administered test showed that the informant was "deceptive" when he answered yes to two questions: Did Guandique tell you he stabbed Chandra Levy? And did Guandique tell you he received $25,000 from a congressman for stabbing Chandra Levy? Nearly nine weeks later, on Feb. 4, 2002, Guandique was given a polygraph test by the FBI. When asked whether he was involved in Chandra's disappearance and whether he caused her disappearance, he answered no. The readings were inconclusive, falling into a gray area between truth and deception. But the official result, a judgment call of the polygraph examiner, was "not deceptive." Polygraphs can be a helpful law enforcement tool, but the results are not admissible in court because the science behind them is considered unreliable. And there was a problem with the polygraph exams in the Chandra case: Neither the informant nor Guandique spoke much English, and the FBI polygraph examiners were not bilingual. A translator was used for both exams, a variable that can compromise test results, according to polygraph experts. Polygraph equipment measures minute changes in breathing, sweating, blood pressure and other bodily functions. If the polygraph examiner and the translator are not in sync, the test results can be skewed. If I had my druthers, I would have wanted to get a Spanish-speaking polygraph examiner," Jack Barrett, D.C. chief of detectives, later recalled. "It's so much cleaner." But he would have had to wait for months because of different priorities within the FBI. The police relied heavily on the polygraph results to eliminate Guandique as a suspect. Detectives didn't interview his victims. They didn't visit the crime scenes in Rock Creek Park. They didn't assign Spanish-speaking detectives to talk to Guandique's friends and relatives. And they didn't look for his possessions to test them for forensic evidence. On Feb. 8, four days after his FBI polygraph, Guandique was escorted into Room 321 of the D.C. Superior Courthouse to be sentenced after pleading guilty to the attacks on Halle Shilling and Christy Wiegand. A court-ordered report noted that Guandique had a wide range of behavioral, alcohol and drug problems. "When I'm about to commit an offense, I tell myself to go ahead and do it, but afterwards, I feel bad about it," Guandique said through a translator in the report. "I feel good when I see someone alone and carrying something of value on their person because it makes it easy for me to take it from them. Then it crosses my mind, that after doing it so many times, I will eventually get caught. Sometimes, I cannot control myself when I see someone alone in a secluded area with something of value." The prosecutor, Kristina Ament, told the judge that Guandique was a cooperative defendant. She said that he spoke to prosecutors and police about the Chandra case as part of his plea agreement and that he passed a polygraph exam that asked if he knew anything about her disappearance. Ament said Guandique cleared his name by taking the polygraph. "In other words, there's no suggestion that he is involved in the Chandra Levy case?" asked D.C. Superior Court Judge Noel Anketell Kramer. "There is no suggestion at this point now that he is involved," Ament said. "And his polygraph went a long way in diffusing the suggestion." The judge said she never believed that Guandique had anything to do with Chandra's disappearance. "This is such a satellite issue," Kramer said. "I never for a moment thought that . . . he had anything to do with Chandra Levy." Gladys Joseph, a lawyer with the D.C. Public Defender Service who was assigned to represent Guandique, tried to persuade the judge to give her client a light sentence. "Mr. Guandique was trying to get a Walkman and go. And really just did something incredibly stupid, and incredibly dangerous, even to himself," Joseph said. Shilling had a different take. "I reject the notion that he intended to simply rob me," she told the judge that day. "This attack was a physical one, pure and simple. He stalked me for a mile. He attacked me with a knife. We struggled on the ground. He left my valuables on the path when he fled. I do not doubt for a second that, given the chance, he would repeat this crime against another woman. I would request that this person be given the harshest possible sentence for his crime." Wiegand spoke next. "Being attacked by Mr. Guandique was a terrifying experience, and it changed me, and it changed how I will view the world," she said. "I completely agree . . . that given the opportunity, Mr. Guandique will attack another woman." The judge asked Guandique if he had anything to say. "Well, I would like to ask the judge for forgiveness," he replied. "And also of the two people I assaulted. I am sincerely repentant for the two offenses I committed. And please give me another chance in order so that I would be able to work and help my family." At the end of the 38-minute hearing, the judge sentenced Guandique to 10 years in a federal penitentiary. http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-srv/metro/specials/chandra/ch10_1.html		Joined: 05 Jun 2006 Posts: 3332 Location: My only friend, the end



Phantom Posted: Thu Jul 24, 2008 5:22 pm
CHAPTER ELEVEN: A Walk in the Woods Shortly before 9:30 a.m. on May 22, 2002, Philip Douglas Palmer, a 42-year-old furniture maker, walked his dog down a steep ravine off the Western Ridge Trail in Rock Creek Park. Palmer had been hiking trails in the park for 30 years, and he was looking for items to add to his offbeat collection of deer antlers and animal bones. The ravine was shaded by poplars and oaks, the forest floor covered with thorny vines, patches of poison ivy and mountain laurel. Palmer suddenly spotted a red piece of clothing and noticed a shallow depression in the ground. Beneath the brush, he saw a bleached-out object that he thought was a turtle shell. He swept away some leaves, uncovering a human skull. Palmer marked the spot by hanging a blue leash and a sweatshirt on nearby branches and left to call 911. Ten minutes later, U.S. Park Police Sgt. Dennis Bosak arrived. He took one look and thought: Ingmar Guandique has been here. The crime scene - tucked away between the Western Ridge Trail and Broad Branch Road - was eerily similar to the site along Beach Drive where Christy Wiegand was attacked a year earlier. Guandique, a Salvadoran immigrant, had been convicted of attacking Wiegand and another woman in the park. The new scene was near an area of the park called Grove 17, where police had searched nearly a year earlier for Chandra's body. Bosak saw a red Aero sports bra, a pair of Victoria's Secret panties and a pair of Pro Spirit black stretch pants, turned inside out. Oddly, each leg was knotted. For more than a week, Mobile Crime Unit technicians and police recruits conducted a search of the woods around Chandra's remains. They sifted through dirt and leaves and brought in cadaver dogs. They found small bones and some teeth. They also found a silver-colored lipstick case with the lipstick intact, a foam-rubber shoe lining and a dirty white sock. Two weeks later, on June 6, 2002, the private investigators hired by the Levy family took a drive to Rock Creek Park. The police had finished their search, and the retired D.C. homicide detectives, Dwayne Stanton and J.T. "Joe" McCann, wanted to have a look. They brought a shovel, an ax and two rakes. About an hour and a half into their search, McCann began to look in an area about 25 yards from where Palmer found Chandra's skull. He raked some leaves and spotted what appeared to be a 12- to 14-inch bone embedded in the dirt. It turned out to be Chandra's left tibia. McCann and Stanton called their former employer, the D.C. police department. Ramsey was incredulous, then furious. He demanded to know how his crime-scene technicians missed the bone. He launched an internal review of the incident and lit into Alfred J. Broadbent, the assistant police chief who was ultimately in charge of the search and the Chandra investigation. Broadbent wanted Ramsey to go to the scene to see the difficult terrain for himself, but the chief was not interested. Top police officials were already red-faced: During the initial searches of the park the year before, they had missed Chandra's remains. Now, Ramsey sent search teams back into the woods, along with a zoologist to explore animal burrows and other locations that might have been overlooked. The police issued a news release that said there was a "strong possibility" that the bone was moved. "It appears that department technicians did not pass over the bone during the original search," the release said. "There appears to be a greater likelihood that the bone was reintroduced into the area by wildlife." Enlarge PhotoThe area in Rock Creek Park where Chandra Levy's skeletal remains were found (Lois Raimondo - Post)D.C. police couldn't believe that McCann and Stanton found something they had missed. The detectives asked McCann to take a polygraph exam. He refused, insulted by the insinuation that he might have tampered with a crime scene. The detectives then turned their attention to Palmer, asking him whether he might have taken the bone and returned it when he realized it was part of a crime scene. Palmer provided a videotaped statement denying that he tampered with the bone. The police department was ridiculed again when their own search teams went back and found more remains: small bones from Chandra's hands, feet and back, a heel bone, and a femur, the largest bone in the human body. It was discovered 170 feet west of the crime scene. The discoveries highlighted long-standing problems within the understaffed and under-budgeted Mobile Crime Unit. Training was inconsistent, and equipment was lacking. Some technicians used their own money to buy markers, cotton swabs and evidence bags. Gainer, the department's second in command, acknowledged that his police force was not "forensically oriented." The D.C. detectives and the FBI now had a murder on their hands and few clues to follow. Investigators turned to Kim Rossmo, director of research for the Police Foundation in Washington, who was known for his work as a geographical profiler. He had created a widely respected computerized method of analyzing patterns in murders, rapes, arsons and other crimes. See 360 degree views of several important sites in the Chandra Levy investigation.When Rossmo looked into Chandra's case, he became particularl