The
Horrors of
Fox Hollow
Farm
About the Authors Richard Estep ( Boulder, CO) first got involved with paranormal research in 1995 and has investigated haunted locations on both sides of the Atlantic. He is the author of numerous nonfiction books on the subject of paranormal research, and his work features on the TV shows Haunted Case Files, Haunted Hospitals, and Paranormal 911. Visit him online at www.richardestep.net. Robert Graves (Carmel, IN ) is the owner of Fox Hollow Farm. He has become something of a student of Herb Baumeister’s life … as both the man and the murderer.
The
Horrors of
Fox Hollow
Farm
Unraveling the History & Hauntings of a Serial Killer’s Home
RICHARD ESTEP WITH ROBERT GRAVES
Llewellyn Publications Woodbury, Minnesota
The Horrors of Fox Hollow Farm: Unraveling the History & Hauntings of a Serial Killer’s Home © 2019 by Richard Estep and Robert Graves. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever, including internet usage, without written permission from Llewellyn Publications, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. First Edition First Printing, 2019 Cover photo by Richard Estep Cover design by Shira Atakpu Interior photographs by Richard Estep Llewellyn Publications is a registered trademark of Llewellyn Worldwide Ltd. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data (Pending) ISBN: 978-0-7387-5855-8 Llewellyn Worldwide Ltd. does not participate in, endorse, or have any authority or responsibility concerning private business transactions between our authors and the public. All mail addressed to the author is forwarded but the publisher cannot, unless specifically instructed by the author, give out an address or phone number. Any internet references contained in this work are current at publication time, but the publisher cannot guarantee that a specific location will continue to be maintained. Please refer to the publisher’s website for links to authors’ websites and other sources. Llewellyn Publications A Division of Llewellyn Worldwide Ltd. 2143 Wooddale Drive Woodbury, MN 55125-2989 www.llewellyn.com Printed in the United States of America
Also by Richard Estep Colorado UFOs The Dead Below The Devil’s Coming to Get Me The Fairfield Haunting Haunted Healthcare Haunted Longmont The Haunting of Asylum 49 In Search of the Paranormal Spirits of the Cage (with Vanessa Mitchell) Trail of Terror The World’s Most Haunted Hospitals
For my great-nephew Harry James Estep, who entered this world at 6:31 p.m. on the evening of June 15, 2018. —Richard Estep In memory of the victims. May they rest in peace. —Robert Graves
Contents Foreword by Cami Andersen … xiii Introduction … 1 Chapter 1: Weird Herb … 7 Chapter 2: The Predator … 13 Chapter 3: Bones … 21 Chapter 4: Too Good to Be True … 37 Chapter 5: Haunted … 45 Chapter 6: Pursued … 55 Chapter 7: Attacked … 67 Chapter 8: Herb Did It … 73 Chapter 9: Boots on the Ground … 79 Chapter 10: Showdown … 95 Chapter 11: Into the Pool … 107 Chapter 12: Welcome Back … 113 Chapter 13: Mixing It Up … 127 Chapter 14: A Truly Sick Man … 137 Chapter 15: The One That Got Away … 159 Chapter 16: Get Away from There … 185 Chapter 17: Stay Away … 197 Conclusion: Making Sense of It All … 205 Bibliography … 209 Acknowledgments … 211
Foreword
I
n 2018, my longtime friend awaited the arrival of his parents, who were traveling to pay him a visit. As the hour of their arrival came and went, he began to wonder where they were. He called their cell phones but got no answer. The night went by with no contact from them. With concern and fear heavy upon him, he decided to get in his vehicle and drive the six-hour journey to look for them. Perhaps their car had broken down in a remote area on the side of the road and they had no way to contact him. Maybe they were involved in a motor vehicle accident. There was no sign of them or their vehicle during the severalhour drive. Finally, he made his way down the long, secluded dirt driveway to their home. As he drew near their house, he saw their vehicle with packed bags on the ground ready to be placed inside. The dogs were out running in the yard of their several-acre desert property. The door to their house was left ajar and all personal items and medications were left untouched, as if they had stepped outside
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Foreword
and lingered in the yard. Yet there was no sign of his parents. They seemed to have disappeared into thin air. Authorities were contacted, and it was soon apparent to them that they would find no evidence of a struggle or foul play. But people do not just disappear without an explanation or a trace … do they? With no clues to his parents’ whereabouts, they began organizing search parties to comb the vast and unforgiving deserts, caves, and mine shafts surrounding the property. Months of searching yielded no answers. The family frequently fell into despair, but they still held on to the hope that the couple would be found one day and they’d receive answers to the questions that plague them every moment. During this time, I was attending university, studying criminal justice with a focus on forensics and crime scene investigation. Some case studies were hauntingly similar to that of my friend’s in many ways, but they were stories of people I did not know that focused primarily on the facts and the evidence obtained by law enforcement. However, not knowing them does not make the cases any less tragic. Through my friend, I was getting a professionally unique and valuable, albeit unwanted, glimpse into the personal lives of the friends and family members affected by a potential crime, as well as the challenges, heartache, and desperation that come with not knowing what has happened to a loved one. No one expects something like that to happen to themselves or to their friends or loved ones. It hit far too close to home for my liking. People believe it only happens in the movies or to other people, as seen on true crime television series and documentaries. If you’re lucky, that holds true for you. It is a surreal experience and often feels like it isn’t real. Statements of disbelief are common. I have uttered the phrase, “I can’t believe this is happening to
Foreword
xv
them!” many times in conversation. We don’t know what has happened to them or who may have been involved. It could just be an isolated incident—maybe an accident occurred—but that’s not true in all cases. Sometimes an evil, dangerous person walks into their lives for no rhyme or reason and does unspeakable things— and goes on to repeat them over and over again. The number of serial killers jumped in the 1960s, ’70s, and ’80s, and interest in them and why they do the things that they do has grown in the last few decades. Herbert Baumeister has drawn the curiosity of many serial killer enthusiasts, and scientists have gone to great lengths to research and interview serial killers such as Ted Bundy, Edmund Kemper, and John Wayne Gacy. They often have to listen to the horrid details and accounts of the acts from the killer’s own perspective, with the goal of better understanding how to identify future killers and prevent homicides. While many serial killers have similar upbringings and characteristics, there are no concrete commonalities that would shed light onto which life event or events made them who they are or how they are able to do the things they do … or whether they are simply born evil. In the US, one in three homicides goes unsolved and ends up as a cold case. The national annual “clearance rate” for homicide is in the low- to mid-sixtieth percentile range, which still leaves 35 to 40 percent of all homicides unsolved. Even when they are solved, obtaining a conviction for such crimes can be extremely difficult for prosecutors. In order to convict a perpetrator successfully, there must be no stone left unturned and no room left for reasonable doubt. By the time a case makes it into the courts, unless there is sufficiently solid evidence to get a conviction, most district attorneys won’t even try a case if they see any reason to suspect that they won’t win.
xvi
Foreword
In order to open a homicide investigation, generally there needs to be a body and evidence that a crime has been committed. If there is no body or crime scene, the individual becomes a missing person. In some circumstances, they are considered missing and endangered. According to the National Crime Information Center (NCIC), in 2017 there were over 600,000 missing persons cases and almost 900 sets of unidentified remains. When I first saw the number of missing persons, I was taken aback by the sheer amount. I felt the need to verify with a colleague in law enforcement that I was seeing the correct number and that it was truly accurate. Indeed, it was. However, almost two million cases of missing persons were entered into the NCIC database in 2017, and through hard work, about 67 percent of missing persons were found. Not all are found under ideal circumstances, but at least the families know where they are. One of the theories in the paranormal field is that when a tragic event or death takes place at a location, it leaves behind an energy imprint that plays over and over like a movie. In some cases, the spirits of those who were involved in a tragic event that led to their death may remain. Contrary to popular belief, paranormal investigation doesn’t consist of simply sitting around in the dark trying to capture disembodied voices or strange occurrences on video, or documenting anomalous activity with technical equipment. One must also investigate the land and the structure, along with the current and the previous owners. Most paranormal researchers spend long hours in records departments, sifting through large, dusty, old ledgers filled with beautiful scrolling script that is too small to read without a magnifying glass, and talking to local historians in an effort to find reasons for a suspected haunting.
Foreword
xvii
One doesn’t always find an explanation. We count ourselves lucky when events are well known and we have a fairly good idea of who (or what) may be causing the paranormal activity that people are experiencing. There is no fortune and glory for one involved in the field of paranormal research; in fact, sometimes it can be downright frightening. My least favorite side effect of being a paranormal investigator and researcher is when a spirit follows me from a haunted location back to my home. They often like to play with electronics, switch lights on and off, move items, bother pets, and sometimes make a real mess. The most disturbing thing of all is when they make their presence known while I am trying to get some sleep. More than once, I have had spirits stand in a dark corner and watch me while I am lying in bed, and I have had more ambitious spirits whisper or yell in my ear, startling me awake. On one occasion I was almost asleep when I was fully awaked by a female voice yelling, “I’m behind you!” These things happen on a regular basis to many of the people who call us in to investigate their home. To those living in a haunted house, spirits can become an invasive part of life and creep into every aspect of their daily activities. Generally speaking, the homeowners have no idea who is in their home, why the spirits are doing what they’re doing, what the spirits want, or what to do about the haunting. They are often met with disbelief and skepticism when they try to talk about the strange things they’ve been experiencing. In many cases, they were never made aware that they were moving into a home that could be haunted, whereas in other cases (such as the haunting of Fox Hollow Farm), they are fully aware of the horrible things that have happened in or around the house but move in anyway.
xviii
Foreword
As paranormal investigators and researchers, we must rely upon the facts and evidence collected during a case. What isn’t always conveyed are the personal and spiritual experiences that can sometimes impact us for the rest of our lives. We deal with the intangible and the unseen. When the realization sinks in that these were real people who once lived, had emotions, and had both loved and been loved (just as we all have), we are changed forever and go through a transformation in which we develop a level of empathy that we didn’t have before. When I am in the presence of a spirit, I always strive to maintain the awareness that they have gone through something powerful enough to disrupt the natural process of moving on after the act of dying. We tend to ask questions that can be deeply personal, and we are delving into their past and situations that are most likely hard for them to relive. In my case, the spirits that I’ve encountered at the haunted hospital of which I am a co-owner have been around for a long time, and over the years we have developed relationships and fostered mutual respect. I’ve come to think of them with great fondness and gratitude for the things that they have taught me. I have also experienced them caring about me, greeting me when I walk past them, asking how my day has been, and sometimes even recognizing when I’ve been going through tough times in my life. I’ll never forget when I heard a voice come through a spirit box during an investigation and say, “You seem much happier today,” after a particularly challenging week. They are there observing us more than we know and see much more than we sometimes give them credit for. While I read The Horrors of Fox Hollow Farm, my heart went out to the victims and to their families. As a seasoned paranormal investigator myself, and owner of the most haunted location in
Foreword
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Utah, I’m well aware of the sensitivity and respect one needs to employ while telling the stories of those who remain long after their physical death. I have worked with Richard Estep and his team for several years, and I was once again reminded of the impeccable skill, professionalism, and thoughtfulness Richard consistently exhibits as an author and paranormal investigator throughout his investigation of Fox Hollow Farm and the spirits that haunt it. As investigators, we work tirelessly to give closure to the friends and loved ones left behind and to the spirits that linger on, waiting for someone to discover them. For even after their bodies have been recovered and entombed in their final resting place, they still have stories to tell … One only has to listen. —Cami Andersen Author, paranormal investigator, and owner of Asylum 49
Introduction
O
n the face of it, the two of us might seem to be an unlikely pairing for a writing partnership. One of us is a car dealer who performs autopsies on behalf of the coroner, while the other is a paramedic who spends his vacation traveling the world investigating haunted houses. One is soft-spoken and mild-mannered, whereas the other is loud and boisterous. We came together with the intent of investigating and writing about one of the most bizarre, fascinating, and downright disturbing cases of paranormal activity on record: the haunting of Fox Hollow Farm. Located in a peaceful and picturesque part of Indiana, Fox Hollow Farm was once the home of one Herbert Baumeister. By outside appearances, Baumeister was a successful businessman, devoted family man, and pillar of the community, albeit one who went by the nickname of “Weird Herb.� Yet during the mid-1990s, authorities discovered something horrific in the woods behind the farm. At first hundreds, and then finally thousands, of bones and 1
2
Introduction
human remains were found, scattered all across the grounds and down into the creek. Detectives suddenly realized what had happened to all the men who had gone missing from the gay community in Indianapolis, along with others who had turned up dead along the side of the interstate. “Weird Herb” now had a new nickname. People were calling him the “I-70 Strangler.” Unfortunately, he was able to evade justice. Fleeing to Canada, Baumeister took his own life on a lonely beach, thus closing the book on one of the most prolific serial murderers in American history. Or so it seemed. Fox Hollow Farm is a unique place in many ways, not least being the fact that it is one of the few places in which a serial killer committed his vile acts that has been left standing. In fact, not only is it still standing, but it is actually a lived-in private residence, home to a family. Such a thing is unusual. Consider the Oxford Apartments in Milwaukee for example, where self-professed cannibal killer Jeffrey Dahmer murdered twelve men, storing their remains in his bedroom and kitchen. The entire building was demolished in 1992 and at the time of writing is nothing more than an empty, weed-infested lot. The Chicago home of John Wayne Gacy, who sexually assaulted and killed at least thirty-three young men, was also torn down. When a subsequent owner of the property built a new house on the same piece of ground, he found it necessary to change the street address in order to throw off ghoulish sightseers. While many people find the subject of serial killers to be understandably fascinating, it is fair to say that some of them take it too far. The locations in which the murders took place can attract a lot of unwanted attention, drawing people in like moths to a flame.
Introduction
3
The exterior of the main house at Fox Hollow Farm.
Nobody wants their neighborhood to have “that haunted murder place” in it, as the citizens of Amityville, Long Island, will attest. The house at 112 Ocean Avenue was made world famous—or perhaps more accurately, infamous—by the bestselling book The Amityville Horror and its subsequent movie adaption. While the murders that took place in the house were an absolute, undeniable fact, there has been much debate about the supposed haunting of the property. While none of the owners after the Lutz family have reported paranormal activity there, they have experienced a constant stream of tourists, eager to catch their own glimpse of the place where a violent tragedy took place. Things got so bad that the owners removed the two upper windows, which gave the house such a distinctive visual profile, and changed the address from 112 to 108. To this day, people in the neighborhood refuse to
4
Introduction
discuss the murders or to point people in the direction of the house, and the police department keeps a sharp eye out for trespassers, especially at the height of tourist season. Yet Fox Hollow Farm stands largely unchanged from its condition at the time of the murders. It still has the same address, and the current owners have made no attempt to remove or conceal the large wooden sign bearing its name, which has stood prominently at the end of the driveway for more than twenty years. Owner Robert Graves is undeniably the foremost expert on the Fox Hollow haunting. He and his family have lived with the haunting, day in and day out, from the very first time they set foot inside their new home. At the time of writing, in the spring of 2019, they are still living with it. Along with his wife, Vicki, Robert—Rob to his friends—agreed to open the house and grounds up to paranormal investigator Richard Estep in 2015. The agreement was a simple one: Richard and his team would have full access to every part of the eighteen-acre estate. They would investigate using whatever techniques and equipment they wanted to and report their results back to the Graves family at the end of it all. During their stay, which was split over two visits at two different times of the year, Richard and his fellow investigators spent many hours attempting to unravel the mysteries of the Fox Hollow haunting. The book that you now hold in your hands is the end result of that process, telling the story of the investigation from beginning to end, but it is also more than that. Key insights into the crimes and the paranormal activity at Fox Hollow have been provided by eyewitnesses such as Tony Harris, who knew Herb Baumeister personally, and Joe LeBlanc, whose arrival at Fox Hollow Farm appeared to kick-start the paranormal activity spectacularly. Other paranormal investigators have offered their own perspectives.
Introduction
5
The original sign that has been at the end of the driveway since the Baumeisters owned the property .
Robert Graves has become something of a student of Herb Baumeister, both the man and the murderer. It is easy to see why. Living in the same house, walking the same hallways, and sleeping in the same bedroom have made Rob understandably curious about the former owner of Fox Hollow Farm. He has spent many hours delving into the facts and minutiae of the Baumeister murders, speaking directly with those who worked on the investigation. The sections of this book that discuss the life of Herb Baumeister, the killings, and the aftermath were handled by Rob. Richard Estep has written about the paranormal aspects of the haunting.
6
Introduction
The authors would like to make it clear that the reason behind this book is to attempt to shed light on the haunting at Fox Hollow Farm. In no way do they intend to cause upset to those who have lost loved ones at the hands of Herb Baumeister or to disrespect the memories of his victims. They feel strongly that this was a story that needed to be told, and they hope that you, the reader, will feel the same.
Chapter 1
Weird Herb
H
erbert R. Baumeister was born on April 7, 1947, in the city of Indianapolis, Indiana, to Dr. Herbert E. Baumeister and Elizabeth Baumeister. He was one of four children in a Midwestern, middle-class family. The Baumeister family had a home in the Butler-Tarkington area of Indianapolis, not far away from Butler University. The neighborhood was close to Methodist Hospital, where Dr. Baumeister practiced as an anesthesiologist. By all accounts, the family was well liked and by outward appearances seemed absolutely normal by most common standards. It came to light that during his time at elementary school, Herb had once placed a dead crow on his teacher’s desk in order to elicit a response from her. He had also posed the question to other classmates about what it would be like to drink your own urine—hardly criminal behavior, true, but odd nonetheless. Herb’s father had his son psychologically tested in secret. Although very limited records still exist, the test results offered a
7
8
Weird Herb
diagnosis of schizophrenia, and there was possibly more than one personality present. It would appear that the elder Baumeister saw the warning signs early on. When it came time for Herb to attend high school in 1961, he enrolled at North Central. The school is a large public institution on the north side of Indianapolis well known for having a strong athletic program. Herb was an average student and never quite fit in with the in-crowd. After graduating from high school in 1965, Herb enrolled at Indiana University. Perhaps unsurprisingly, given what would come later, his declared major was anatomy. He had hoped to follow in his father’s footsteps and become a doctor. During his time at Indiana University, he met the young woman who would go on to become his wife—a woman we will call Jane. The two were drawn to each other because of their similar political views, among other things. In 1967, Herb dropped out of school and returned to Indianapolis. At this time, with his father’s help, he started working for the Indianapolis Star, which was Indianapolis’s oldest and largest daily newspaper. He was known by his coworkers at the paper for being efficient and always well dressed. By 1971, Herb and Jane were married. She was working as a teacher. At some point in 1972, Herb spent two months in a psychiatric hospital in Indianapolis, apparently due to an emotional breakdown over a car problem. Following his release, Herb took a job at the Indiana Bureau of Motor Vehicles. During this time, he exhibited some very odd behavior. For Christmas that year, Herb sent out cards to his BMV coworkers that were fronted by a photograph of himself and another man, both dressed in drag. For some strange reason, he also
Weird Herb
9
urinated on a letter that was addressed to the governor of Indiana. It was this stunt that ultimately cost him his job at the BMV. In 1979, Herb and Jane welcomed their first child, a daughter, to the family. She was joined by a brother in 1981 and another sister in 1984. By all accounts, Herb was a devoted father and husband, a man who doted on his children. The kids all attended private schools, and the family spent a great deal of time at Herb’s parents’ condominium at Lake Wawasee in northern Indiana. The lake is about two and a half hours north of Indianapolis, and the family had access to a boat and jet skis. Herb went out of his way to lavish extravagant gifts on his children, sparing no expense. It was during this same time in 1985 that Herb was arrested for driving drunk while visiting the lake home. The accident was a hit-and-run. A year later, he was arrested for being involved in a possible insurance fraud scheme but was acquitted after a short bench trial. Despite a pattern of increasingly erratic behavior, his luck was holding out … for now. In 1988, Herb and Jane borrowed $4,000 from Herb’s recently widowed mother. The money was intended to start up a thrift store business that they would call Sav-A-Lot. The idea was to take donated household items and clothing and then resell them. A part of the proceeds would go to benefit the Indianapolis Children’s Bureau, the oldest children’s charity in Indianapolis. The Baumeisters would take a portion of the proceeds as personal income for operating the business. The first store did so well that in 1990 the couple opened a second store on the north side of Indianapolis. On the surface, at least, there was no indication that Herb was hiding a dark secret, a secret that involved a section of society that had suddenly found itself the target of a serial predator.
10
Weird Herb
The Indianapolis gay population was (and still is) a close-knit group. It had been well known among members of that community that for several years running, an increasing number of young men had either turned up dead or simply disappeared without a trace. This had all seemed to start in 1985 with the unexplained death of Eric Roetiger, a seventeen-year-old white male whose body was found abandoned not far from the roadside in Indiana. Herb was thirty-eight years old at the time. In 1989 came the discovery of a body along Interstate 70 in Hancock County, just east of Indianapolis. This unfortunate young man was twenty-six-year-old Steven Elliot. His death was followed in 1990 by that of Clay Boatman, a thirty-two-year-old whose murdered remains were found on the route between Indianapolis and Columbus. During the period running from 1980 to 1990, at least nine other bodies would be found between Indianapolis and Columbus, Ohio. Although it was never definitively proven that Herb Baumeister was responsible for these murders, his wife would later go on to tell the authorities that Herb had traveled to Ohio on business more than one hundred times during the period that they owned their Sav-A-Lot stores. Perhaps coincidentally (or perhaps not), in the fall of 1991, bodies suddenly stopped being found along the side of the road between those two cities. The reason for this was simple. The killer had turned his attention to victims that could be found a little closer to home … Herb’s new home. Fox Hollow Farm.
•—•
Weird Herb
11
In 1991, after several prosperous years running their Sav-A-Lot thrift stores, Herb and Jane Baumeister went shopping for a new home. They soon came across a property listing that looked absolutely perfect. The eighteen-and-a-half-acre estate was, of course, Fox Hollow Farm. They loved that it was located away from the big city and that their children would have plenty of space in which to play. Fortunately for them, as things turned out, it just so happened that the current owner was motivated to sell. The asking price was just $979,000, a great value for such a grand property. The current owner agreed to sell the farm on contract, accepting a modest down payment and the promise of full payment within five years. The arrangement was perfect for the young family. For a time, life was good at Fox Hollow Farm. The children were thriving in private schools, and the family business was doing well. On the Indianapolis bar scene, young gay men from the downtown Indianapolis area were still turning up missing. May 1993 saw the disappearances of Michael Riley and Johnny L. Bayer. They were followed in July 1993 by Jeffrey Jones and Richard Hamilton, then in August 1993 by Alan Livingstone. Many suspected, though nobody knew for sure, that a serial killer was at work—a serial killer who targeted young, gay men, preferably those who would most likely never be missed. The serial predator was every bit as busy in 1994. In April, Stephen Hale disappeared. June and July marked the disappearances of Alan Broussard and Roger Alan Goodlet, respectively. All the young men who had disappeared were reported missing by their family members, but the police department had no idea that one man was behind it all.
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Weird Herb
•—• The family of Roger Alan Goodlet, one of the missing men, was so intent on finding out what had happened to their loved one that they hired a private detective to get them the answers that the police department wasn’t delivering. That private detective was a retired Marion County sheriff and also happened to be a polygraph expert. He immediately set about trying to figure out what had happened to Roger. He put up missing person posters in and around the gay bars of Indianapolis, visiting each one and talking to anybody who might know anything about Roger’s disappearance. The missing persons cases were being handled by the Indianapolis Police Department. They dutifully recorded what little information was available, which wasn’t a great deal to go on. The common thread in all the disappearances seemed to be the area from which the men went missing: every single one of them had last been seen in one of the gay bars downtown, and each had disappeared in the warmer months of the year. Other than that, nobody knew a thing.
Chapter 2
The Predator
O
ne mid-nineties summer, a man showed up at one of the bars. He was not a regular at that particular bar. The man was seen staring at a missing persons poster for Roger Alan Goodlet. One regular bar patron, a man who went by the name of Tony Harris, approached the man and, indicating the poster with a nod of his head, asked, “Do you know him?” The man said that he did not. He was lying. At this point, the newcomer, who was actually Herb Baumeister, gave the name “Brian Smart.” Tony related that, while Brian was reading the missing persons poster, his concern did not appear to be genuine. The two soon fell into deep conversation. It ended with Brian asking Tony if he wanted to go back to his employer’s home for a swim in the indoor pool. Tony agreed to go along, and Brian suggested they should drive separately. Tony said that he would prefer that they go in the same car; his main concern was that he wanted 13
14
The Predator
his car left at the bar so that if he should turn up missing like so many other men had, somebody would hopefully see it there and come looking for him. Somewhat reluctantly, Tony got into Brian’s car, and they drove north, leaving the bright lights of the city far behind. Although Tony tried to engage in small talk, Brian did not say a lot. Before long, the asphalt of the city gave way to the greener suburbs north of Indianapolis. They turned off from US Highway 31 and onto a two-lane rural road that was lined with horse farms. They soon came to a driveway. Afterward, Tony would recall noticing a sign that read, “something Farm.” It was dark, however, and he could not quite read it all. They drove down a long and winding drive, finally arriving at a very large house that Tony described as a mansion. There were several dogs roaming around, and Tony was told to not pet them. The house itself was completely dark. Brian claimed that the power was turned off upstairs but was still on in the basement, where the pool was. The two men entered via a garage door and made their way to some stairs that led down into the basement. Just as Brian had promised, there was indeed a swimming pool. He motioned to a room directly across from the pool and said that Tony could change in there if he wanted to. Brian was already in the pool when Tony emerged from the changing room. The water was very warm, and with the sliding patio doors all fully open to let in the cold night air, a thick fog hung low over the surface of the pool. Tony slid slowly down into the water. “Hey,” Brian exclaimed, as if a great idea had suddenly just occurred to him. “Do you want to see a neat trick?” He went on to explain that if you were to squeeze somebody’s neck in order to cut off the blood flow to the brain, it could cause the most intense orgasm imaginable. Intrigued but
The Predator
15
still somewhat reluctant, Tony hesitantly said that he would be willing to give it a try. Brian took the length of pool hose that was floating on top of the water and gently placed it around Tony’s neck, caressing the skin lightly with the smooth plastic. Then he began to tighten it. Slowly but surely, Brian started strangling Tony, pulling the hose tighter and tighter with every passing second. Red dots danced before Tony’s eyes, and he began to feel lightheaded, yet still Brian kept up the pressure. What was this? he wondered—did Brian intend to kill him? Letting his arms and legs go loose, Tony pretended to pass out, falling backward into the pool. All was quiet for a few seconds and then, much to Brian’s surprise, Tony opened his eyes. “It’s you, Brian! You are hurting people!” he accused the other man. “I have no choice—I’m going to the police.” “No one is going to believe a person like you,” Brian shot back. Tony knew that he was right, but nonetheless, he had to try. If this man was behind all the disappearances, the first thing he had to do was get out of there alive, and that meant appeasing him … for now. The two men got down to partying, making good use of the fully stocked wet bar, before finally Brian passed out on a couch in an adjacent room. The following morning, he drove Tony back to the bar in downtown Indianapolis. “I had a good time,” Brian told him, as though nothing untoward had happened, “and I’d very much like to see you again.” Tony went straight to the Indianapolis Police Department and told them that there was a man who lived in a mansion somewhere in Hamilton County who was picking up gay men and strangling them. Unfortunately, Tony could not give an accurate description of the killer’s home. The police advised Tony to try to get a license
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The Predator
plate number in the event that this individual ever came back into the bar. This was the “official version” of the events that Tony Harris described to the detectives who questioned him. It must be pointed out that Tony himself is the only living source for what happened at Fox Hollow Farm that night. Unquestionably, Tony Harris did go to the authorities and reported what had happened to him at Fox Hollow Farm in the company of Brian Smart. Were it not for his willingness to step forward, the case may not have been broken as quickly as it was, and more men would almost certainly have died. For this, he is to be commended. Tony would maintain that he only visited Fox Hollow Farm on that one occasion, yet in future interviews he would alter his story, admitting to having had a romantic relationship with Herb and engaging in liaisons with him whenever the opportunity presented itself. How does Tony address the fact that his story has changed over the years—does he feel that it casts doubt on his credibility as a witness? According to him, after that first night at Fox Hollow Farm, he was certain that Herb was the man who was killing off his friends from the gay community, and Tony’s main concern was getting the murders to stop. He was caught in something of a catch-22 situation, however, because he had also developed feelings for the man he knew as Brian Smart, and admitting that he was involved with the killer romantically could be tantamount to being an accomplice, at least in the eyes of many people. Later on in this book, we will hear Tony’s own account of what else happened that night at Fox Hollow Farm—and discover the crucial missing pieces that he left out of his testimony.
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•—• The private investigator was now fully immersed in his investigation. He couldn’t help noticing that a rather disturbing pattern was beginning to emerge. The deeper he dug into the morass of disappearances, the more he came to believe that a serial killer was operating in central Indiana, preying primarily on members of the gay community. The private investigator interviewed Tony at length and gleaned as much information as he could from his description regarding the place that he had been brought to that night. Tony told him that it was a large property, one with a long, winding drive and horse fencing. On the strength of that, he drove all around southern Hamilton County in the general vicinity of where he thought that Tony may have been. Unfortunately, there were just so many horse farms in that area. It was the equivalent of trying to find a needle in a haystack, and the private investigator simply could not locate it. He even went so far as to obtain aerial photographs from the County Surveyor’s office and spotted what he thought might be the right sort of place. After showing Tony the photo, however, his only eyewitness was unsure if it truly was the correct location. He was right back at square one. Both the private investigator and the officers of the Indianapolis Police Department gave Tony the same piece of advice: “If Brian comes back into the bar, then come hell or high water, you have to get his license plate number!” The winter of 1994 came and went without any discernible progress on any of the missing person cases. Just as Tony was beginning to think he would never see the mysterious man again, the
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weather improved in the spring, and lo and behold, Brian showed up in the bar again. Tony felt a little uneasy about sneaking outside from under Brian’s watchful eye in order to obtain his license plate number, so he requested that a friend go and write it down. Once it was in his possession, Tony dutifully gave the number to the Indianapolis Missing Persons detective assigned to the case, who in turn ran it through the Bureau of Motor Vehicles computer database. The car came back registered to one Herbert R. Baumeister, whose street address was listed as being one Fox Hollow Farm. Jackpot. This was the first truly solid lead in a case that had already spanned several years. Detectives wasted no time in going straight to Mr. Baumeister’s business to question him. A detective whom we will refer to as Marsha Warren, of the Indianapolis Police Department, was assigned to the Missing Persons Division. She had received several reports from families with missing relatives but so far hadn’t been able to connect the dots. Now, along with tips from the private investigator and Tony Harris, capped off by the very solid lead provided by the license plate number, it was time to ask Herb Baumeister a few choice questions. Marsha drove to the Sav-A-Lot store on West Washington Street in Indianapolis. She went inside and walked up to the counter. An employee asked how she could help her. Marsha asked to speak to Mr. Baumeister. The employee replied that he was in the back right now, but she would be happy to go and fetch him. Herb appeared from a back room and approached Marsha. He greeted her in a friendly manner, offering her a handshake. She asked Herb straight away if he ever visited gay bars in Indianapolis. Herb very quickly and adamantly denied ever having set foot in a
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gay bar. She countered with the fact that they had multiple eyewitnesses’ testimony to the contrary, and that she had gotten his license plate number from one of those very same witnesses. At that point, visibly shaken from the confrontation, Herb finally admitted that yes, he did in fact visit the bars from time to time, but his family was not aware of it. Marsha felt that his reaction might be justified; after all, he and his wife had been married for twenty-five years, and they had three children. Marsha told him at that point in time she was investigating the disappearance of some men who had gone missing from within those bars, and she felt he might know something or be involved. “Can we search your property?” she asked in her most reasonable tone of voice. At this point, Herb clammed up. He flatly denied any involvement whatsoever with the disappearances and told Marsha that if she had any further questions, they should be directed to his lawyer. Herb’s lawyer was a very well-known criminal defense attorney in Indianapolis. Any Indianapolis citizen of prominent standing who happened to get into legal trouble would usually call him first. Marsha Warren called the attorney’s office and said that she would like to search the Baumeister property. The attorney responded by saying that he had no idea who in the world Herbert Baumeister was. Puzzled, Marsha returned to the Sav-A-Lot store to confront Herb, only to be told once again, “Talk to my lawyer.” Herb reiterated the attorney’s name for the second time, insisting that the lawyer was indeed representing him. Marsha called the law office again and was exasperated to get the same response. Nobody at the law firm had ever heard of Herbert Baumeister, so back she went to the thrift store. To say that she was frustrated would be an understatement.
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By the third visit, Herb had managed to get a retainer check sent to the law office. “No,” the attorney now insisted, “you cannot search Mr. Baumeister’s property.” Marsha was up against a brick wall, having what she felt was a prime suspect in her sights but possessing insufficient evidence to allow her to obtain a search warrant. Enter a well-known forensic anthropologist from the University of Indianapolis. Looking for a fresh approach, Marsha contacted him for some suggestions about how she might be able to get a look at the property without actually setting foot on it. The doctor suggested an aerial survey. That would enable her to get a view of the property from the air and—if she were lucky—possibly see any potential burial spots. A police helicopter was duly requisitioned, and Marsha, along with the doctor, ventured out to fly over the Baumeister property. The helicopter was equipped with an infrared camera so that if there were bodies buried on the property, it was hoped that the heat emitted during the decomposition process would be visible. The helicopter pilot took them over the house and grounds, focusing on the woods behind the main house. Unfortunately, nothing out of the ordinary was visible. Either there were no bodies there, or perhaps it had been too long since a body was last deposited in that area. Once again, Marsha would need to find another way.
Body, Mind & Spirit / Paranormal
Hands locked around his throat, squeezing like a vice. He felt himself being dragged underneath the water as he thrashed and kicked. He tried to pry the hands from his throat but found nothing there. It was the ghost of Fox Hollow’s serial killer. Nothing could convince this former farm resident otherwise. Fox Hollow Farm, the infamous Indiana property where Herb Baumeister allegedly murdered at least eleven men, has a grim past and an unsettling present. This riveting book pieces together the story of the tragic case and explores the hauntings that continue to this day, delving into the psyche of a suspected murderer and the terrifying paranormal activity that lingers in the aftermath of such unspeakable evil. The Horrors of Fox Hollow Farm provides detailed insights from the original criminal investigation as well as the perspectives of the man who survived Herb’s attempt on his life. This chilling book also features compelling evidence, from EVPs and psychic confirmations to firsthand accounts of the disembodied hands and voices that regularly manifest on the estate. RICHARD ESTEP cofounded Boulder County Paranormal Research Society (BCPRS) with his wife, Laura, in 1999. He’s the author of more than a dozen books detailing his most harrowing investigations, including Trail of Terror. Richard appears regularly on the TV shows Haunted Case Files, Haunted Hospitals, and Paranormal 911. Visit him online at www.RichardEstep.net.
ROBERT GRAVES is the owner of Fox Hollow Farm. Since learning of the farm’s
past, Robert has devoted himself to understanding the tragic events that took place there. He lives in Carmel, Indiana. Facebook.com/LlewellynBooks
$16.99 US
Twitter: @LlewellynBooks
ISBN 978-0-7387-5855-8
Instagram: @LlewellynBooks
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www.Llewellyn.com
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780738 758558