Though it’s more than a little macabre, the Chicago Tribune’s comprehensive coverage of the 40th anniversary of the 1982 Tylenol murders does have its moments. All that investigative reporting may not change a thing, but it does serve to provide a fresh perspective into these tragic deaths that forever changed this country.
As a former prime suspect in the Unabom case, the only national manhunt more infamous than the Tylenol poisonings, I feel particularly qualified to weigh in the FBI’s ongoing efforts to charge a suspect with what they believe to be a “solid circumstantial case.”
I’ll readily admit this individual isn’t the kind of guy you want to bring home to mama. He served 13 years in the federal pen for attempting to extort a million dollars from Johnson & Johnson to “stop the killings.” He dodged murder charge on a technicality and he spent another three years in the slammer awaiting trial for allegedly kidnapping, drugging, and raping a neighbor with whom he had a business dispute.
So, I can certainly understand why the FBI wants to see him charged, but the fact that you might be scum doesn’t mean you’ve committed a specific offense, and the massive holes in the fed’s “circumstantial case” consist of the very essence of reasonable doubt.
First, they can’t place this suspect in Chicago at the time those Tylenol bottles were tampered with. Granted we’re talking about an era before our every move was automatically tracked on the Net and every millimeter of the city was under some form of video surveillance, but this guy isn’t a rocket scientist, either.
He couldn’t pull off sending an “anonymous” extortion letter, but somehow he successfully covered his tracks in the process of returning eight poisoned Tylenol bottles to those store shelves? Trust me, had he come here from New York to carry this crime out, there would’ve been a mile-wide trail.
The feds second problem is, after mitochondrial DNA was recovered from some of the poisoned bottles and tested after the technology improved in the late 80s, none of it matched this or their previous suspect who died in 2008. And prior to 1986, no one was too terribly concerned with leaving microscopic DNA evidence because it couldn’t be tested.
Worse yet, one of the victim’s daughters wrote a book criticizing all of the involved agencies for too-quickly ruling out the possibility that the tampering occurred in Johnson and Johnson’s distribution and repackaging channels.
In a recent statement to the Tribune she said, “Lewis was convicted of his opportunistic act (writing the letter) and spent 12 years in prison for it. I am appalled that they (the FBI) still circle back to him as the possible murderer. This inhibits the investigation and influences the public into believing a false narrative.”
Exactly! And her dissenting opinion is particularly pivotal when you consider how the deep desire for closure tends to make a murder victim’s family cling to any potential suspect. Put more simply, can you imagine what her testimony would do to the prosecution’s case?
Even Ty Fahner, the Illinois Attorney General at the time, said the killer was likely a “disgruntled worker.”
And the daughter isn’t nearly the only one who claims the FBI gave that 500 far too much leeway in conducting their own internal investigation of the poisoned bottles. Talk about a case of economic self-preservation potentially trumping the truth at every turn.
Despite this overwhelming exculpatory evidence, the FBI remains steadfast in their contention that this individual should be charged because it’s what they do. They get one of their charlatan profilers to work up a report that matches the suspect they already have in mind and they proceed to ignore any evidence that doesn’t fit their prefabricated theory.
And this dynamic is particularly pervasive when it’s they’re trying to crack a case that can make an agent’s career.
Beyond Ted Kaczynski’s early primitive Chicago-based matchstick head bombs, the FBI couldn’t place me, or any member of our group, in a location where a bomb was detonated or mailed, but they persisted in pursuing us, nonetheless. Even after Ted’s cabin turned into a treasure trove of evidence, the Chicago FBI office doggedly refused to believe it wasn’t us.
A perfect example of this dynamic is the original FBI task force member who’s still pressing for this person to be charged because, “You go were the evidence takes you.” Really? Or do you go with whatever meager “proof” you think you have because you have nothing else to go on? The absence of other evidence doesn’t justify going after a materially innocent man, nor does the fact that you find someone to be distasteful automatically become a testament to their culpability.
This is why you should NEVER talk to any law enforcement agent you suspect suspects you of anything. They aren’t interest in the truth, they don’t have your best interest in mind, and since they’ve likely already made up theirs, they’ll interpret anything you say as an admission of guilt.
We’d all like to see this case solved if for no other reason than we don’t like to think someone could get away with a crime of this hideous nature. But the truth is, just like it was with the Brown’s Chicken murders and the Unabom investigation, unless an insider or family member comes forward with new testimony, it isn’t going to happen.
But the answer to that stark reality isn’t to persist in pursuing a potential “suspect” because you have nothing better to do. Charging the wrong guy won’t ease the family’s pain, bring anyone back from the dead, or accomplish absolutely anything other than compounding this nightmarish Tylenol tragedy.
