Episode 2: The Whataburger Declaration

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At David Wood's original trial in 1992, the lead prosecutor acknowledged there was almost no direct proof tying wood to the desert murders. In fact, she said it multiple times, like she was trying to get in front of it. Called it, quote, "purely a circumstantial evidence case." This is exactly what David was legal team is now trying to exploit, the lack of direct

evidence, especially for a serial killer case involving six murders. The only physical evidence against David Wood are the fibers found in his apartment, and on one of the victims. Then there's the rest of it, the jailhouse informants who claim would confess to them, a rape that resembled the murders, David Wood's prior criminal history, and witnesses,

people who saw him or someone who looked like him with the victims. Some of these witnesses were pretty fuzzy on details or had credibility issues. You might think the overall weakness of the case would be good for David Wood's lawyers, make it easier to prove his innocence.

But the problem is, the way the state constructed the case, there's no one big shiny piece

of evidence for the defense to knock down. Instead, they have a million little threads they can pull at, seemingly endless rabbit trails to run down. For the last 15 years, Greg Warchock, the lead attorney on the case, has been working pretty much solo.

For much of that time, he's been focused on the DNA. When a few items were tested in 2010, they turned up a match to an unknown male, not David Wood. So Greg's been litigating back and forth for more than a decade to test more items from the crime scenes.

He got a final note, just a few months before we started following him around.

But now, Greg has a team, and a dwindling number of days to do every little thing he's

put off, comb through the records one last time, look for remaining witnesses. He and his team need the kind of bombshell the courts just can't ignore. And 58 days before the execution, they just may have one. From serial productions, the Marshall Project, and the New York Times, this is the last 12 weeks, I'm Maurice Chema.

“Tell me of any of this sounds familiar, eating meat is the key to good health, nicotine”

can boost brain function, GLP ones are a miracle drug. I'm Danny Blum, and the health reporter at the New York Times. We're bombarded pretty much constantly with claims about how to live better and feel better, and it's really hard to separate a fact from fiction. That's what really differentiates my reporting and the times is that I am scouring the

science, I am speaking with leading experts, I am making sure that everything I write is rigorously research reported and that I can back it up. But when the science isn't clear, sometimes that is the story that we don't know the answers yet, and that's a level of nuance and depth you're not going to get just floating around the internet.

That's what you get when you subscribe to the New York Times. If you already subscribe, thanks. If you'd like to, go to mytimes.com/subscrib. On a Tuesday afternoon, Alvin and I get texts from Greg and his co-council Jeremy, with links to an emergency Zoom meeting.

Well, we can just start going and I've ordered you guys to email with the information they got from the H.E., pretty interesting stuff. In a few weeks, the lawyers will send the courts a giant legal filing with all their best arguments for why they think David Wood is innocent. This kind of filing has a bunch of rules.

She, among them, they can't just rehash a bunch of old claims from previous appeals. They need new arguments. Jeremy's gathered everyone together for just this reason.

The information is pretty interesting, so she says that she thinks her father at James

“Patrick Bradley is responsible for the murders here.”

Her father was convicted in 1995 of chopping up Michelle Bradley's stepmother and James Bradley's wife at the time, dismembering her body and tossing it around in El Paso, New Mexico. Michelle has a pretty radical theory. She's not so sure David Wood actually killed all those women. She thinks someone else was involved, her own father.

So Michelle called the attorney general's office, the prosecutors in this case. That office handed over her information to the defense because they're legally required to. It's called a Brady Disclosure. As Jeremy lays this all out, I'm thinking, oh my God.

But I look over a Greg on his little Zoom screen and he's giving nothing. His face is totally blank. I mean, you know, again, I don't want to or water over an alternative suspect, but the information we have right now is not very compelling to me.

I mean, you know, when we first got the message, you get your hopes up, but it's a daughter

thinks dad may have committed these crimes he didn't confess to her. It's pretty tenuous, anyway. Part of Greg's reaction can be chalked up to the source of the information. Sure, the AG's office has to hand over leads, but Greg has been at this long enough to be skeptical of anything that comes from that office.

And these are tough calls. Every hour the lawyer's spend running down one lead that's a dead end. It's an hour they could spend on another. At the same time, they have no idea which lead could finally pay off, and maybe even save David Wood's life.

As Greg is talking, I notice another lawyer from Jeremy's office, Naomi Fenwick is cursing her lips, almost wincing. She lets Greg finish before jumping in.

“Well, I'm going to strike the hopeful note and say that I think it's potentially really important.”

The very least, you know, it adds to the list of folks who's DNA, they could test against the DNA. They know is male and is unidentified and is not David Wood, and I think it's helpful in continuing to paint this picture that they're refusing to investigate or explore other options.

And that one be distracted too much, because I'm not saying people can come out of the woodwork on a high profile case like this, that they just, it can be distracting anyway. I'm just, I'm not being unhelpful, I'm just saying let's not lose focus. You're supposed to be the eternal spring of optimism, Greg. Oh yeah, I am, but I'm saying let's not, you know, let's not start heading down too many

rabbit trails, and this might be the AG's very strategy, is to send this off on a world goose chase.

The lawyers talk some more and ultimately decide the lead is worth checking out.

We meet up with them in El Paso, Naomi is the one assigned to pay a visit to Michelle Bradley. Alvin goes with her, I let him take it from here. One important thing I learned about Naomi pretty quickly, as we're driving around El Paso, is that she has, let's call it, some ambivalence about me tagging along with her.

I already know I am going to regret all of this deeply, and I'm going to wake up at 2am replaying everything I've told you, and telling myself it was a terrible idea. Naomi from what I've noticed in Zoom calls, at least, is sharp with a teasing sense of humor, but a shit talker. But on this car, she's also cautious, even a little cagey.

It's not the name is against press interest in her client's case. She knows it can be useful, it's more that me being here, observing her at work, observing her.

“I don't know, it's really jarring, I'm not a trial lawyer, right?”

I don't stand that thing in court and put on a show. I think some of the cage and assess to do with the mission today. Michelle Bradley's dad died in prison more than a decade ago, so Naomi needs Michelle to give us some more detail, flesh out her theory about her dad. The hope is that Michelle will say something that Naomi can then corroborate with other people,

not just whole thing out of the rum with theory, and grounded some facts. The lawyers call it developing a claim. The plan to develop this claim, I am somewhat surprised to find out, is to knock on Michelle's door without any advance warning. No phone call, nothing.

This I learned is standard operating procedure with habeas lawyers and investigators. They prefer to take their chances in person, rather than entertaining the risk of getting

Under ideal circumstances, Naomi would be taking great pains to carefully choreograph her approach, to build a quick intimacy with Michelle, that are comfortable and talking. But my presence in all this, and sticking Naomi's partner dance, and turning into more of a flash mob situation. We spend a good deal of time rehearsing how I'm not going to get in her way.

“If we do find her, what are we doing for buying me?”

You're going to go up and say who you are, and then I'm going to say who I am, and give her the option of telling me to fuck off. I think.

When we finally knock on Michelle Bradley's door, she looks completely out of sorts.

She's in a t-shirt and shorts, pacing around her living room, her large fluffy dog is mirroring her, panting and distressed. Naomi introduced herself and Michelle asked why Naomi didn't call or text first. Michelle is on the verge of tears, saying she didn't even have a chance to brush her teeth or take a shower yet.

She seems like she's just about ready to kick us out, but suddenly thinks better of it. She says she may as well get this all over with. She says I can stay, but she doesn't want to be recorded. Over the next half hour or so, Michelle describes her father, James Bradley, as an extremely abusive man.

She spent a lifetime terrorizing her, her sister, and her mother, before moving onto her stepmother, who he killed, chopped into pieces, and buried around El Paso in New Mexico.

The details are raw, her systemic.

Michelle gets through it and fits and starts between crying jags and long-sips of water. When Michelle eventually tells us about why she's suspicious of her dad, a lot of it is hearsay, stuff she's heard through relatives over the years. But there is one thing she says she witnessed directly. Michelle told us that one day in 1987, she walked into her dad's house, and saw a woman

she didn't know relaxing on the couch, looking very comfortable. Years later, she thought she recognized the woman's face on the news. They look like one of the desert killer's victims. Ivy Williams. We lead the apartment and sit in the rental car.

Naomi calls her boss, Jeremy. "Hey, Jeremy, are you?"

"I'm good, how are you, what's up?"

So, Alvin is here with me recording. "Hey, Alvin, you couldn't see that, but Naomi, full body side at that." I just wanted to update you, so we spoke to Michelle, and she was really distressed. Naomi gives Jeremy the run-down of what Michelle said, and they run through their options together.

They don't have to have someone corroborate Michelle's story. That's not necessary for their legal filing, but it would definitely be stronger if they did. Their problem is they don't have many people choose from. Some people are dead, like Michelle's dad.

Others, like an aunt who lives on Washington, would require a special trip, or they have to weigh against the other things on their to-do list. Michelle did mention an older sister to us though, who also lives in El Paso. Michelle told us they mostly aren't on speaking terms at this point, but she suggested it might be worth asking her sister what she remembers.

Given that many of options, Jeremy suggests we give the estranged sister a visit. Naomi doesn't skip a beat, so she's looking for an address on her phone. I can't figure out if they're digging into this because they see something tenuous but worth pursuing. Her because they're desperate and they've unlimited miles on the rental car.

“Did Michelle say something in there that trips some lawyer wire I couldn't see?”

I check with Naomi, hoping she'll let me in on her thinking. What of what she said was seemed useful to you. Excuse me in a couple hours. Well, Alvin is off with Naomi, I'm spending the day with Greg. If there's one overarching story that Greg has been telling himself and anyone who will

listen about this case, it's that the cops had tunnel vision. They took every piece of evidence and either massaged it to make it fit David Wood or discarded it if it didn't. This was a hard case to solve, Greg's theory goes and there was a ton of pressure to solve it.

Some cops were calling it the biggest case in the history of the police department and victim families were demonstrating in public. So Greg thinks the police took shortcuts and zeroed in on David Wood because it was convenient and they were desperate. And over the years, he has found some evidence of that tunnel vision.

For one, there were other suspects the police could have spent more time investigating. Greg has the list from the original police file. There were 36 names on this list.

“Arguably the most important one, though, was a guy named Salvador Martinez.”

He was a friend of David Wood's who also admitted to police that he knew some of the victims.

in a headlock and said, "If you know how easy it would be for me to snap your neck in two right now, she later told the police that they should be investigating him rather than David Wood." The police did give Martinez a polygraph test about the desert murders, which I know unreliable, but he failed it.

Police went ahead and collected his saliva and blood, but for reasons that aren't totally

clear, they never tested whether his DNA appeared at any of the crime scenes.

Both Greg's team and I have talked to Martinez. I tried to reach him for months and finally just went to his house. He wouldn't let me record him, but he denied having anything to do with the murders. When I followed up later about the allegation that he'd threatened to snap a woman's neck, I got an email from his wife.

She said he couldn't talk to us anymore because of his dementia, but the story, quote, "Doesn't sound like anything Sal would do." So, alternate suspects, that's one part of Greg's tunnel vision theory. And then there's David Wood's pick-up truck.

“A key piece of the state's narrative was that he used this truck to take the victims out to the desert.”

But Greg has since figured out that the truck was in Iraq and sitting in a salvage yard for all of August 1987, which is when three of the victims disappeared. Plus, El Paso Police were actually surveilling David Wood for part of that August, and they didn't see any evidence of him killing anyone. Greg's tunnel vision theory even extends to the physical evidence of the case.

That evidence is now in the El Paso County Courthouse, so that's our first stop.

I'll see you brought all these photos right, I see. A clerk usher's us through a side door into the bowels of the building to a low-lit room, very long order. A giant table is covered in white butcher paper, with 30-year-old evidence from the trial. Greg throws his tie over a shoulder, so it doesn't get in the way, and starts picking up

these little canisters and bags. So it's got the vacuum bag, and then the plastic evidence bag that it came in, I assume. So the vacuum bags there, and then you can see the particles here. From where I'm standing, across the table, it looks like these bags are just full of dust. But when I lean in and squint, I can see what Greg sees.

Tiny orange fibers, like from a blanket or a rug. These fibers were key to the state's case. The police found them in a vacuum cleaner, and David Wood's apartment, and also on a victim's t-shirt. But the trial and expert witness testified that the two sets of fibers were identical.

Greg is consulted his own experts, who have told him this testimony was junk science. They say there's no way to prove that the fibers match because they're synthetic. Greg has two options for what to put in the legal filing. Option A, he can use the junk science argument, but I can imagine a judge might find this unsatisfying.

I find it unsatisfying, because sure the fibers may or may not match.

“But why were their orange fibers with the victim at all?”

That's suspicious, right? This brings me to option B, which is a much bolder option. Greg can say, "Sure, the fibers match, because you guys planted them there." He can accuse the cops of taking the fibers from David Wood's apartment, and placing them at the crime scene.

Farfetched? Maybe. But Greg points out that the crime scene was left unsecured for nine days, and also the police found a lot of fibers in big clumps. Even the prosecution's own expert witness said that was a little strange.

This theory is juicier, but also riskier. The legal filing is going to go to judges who are predisposed to think Greg might be full of it and take all of his other arguments less seriously. On the way out of the courthouse, Greg says he wants to grab one more thing from a clerk. He asks for any and all criminal records related to a guy named Michael Plyler.

This is a new name to me. It wasn't on the El Paso PD's list of 36 suspects. But the other night, Greg came across Plyler's name, an old state records, along with a picture of a truck, which looked a lot like David Wood's truck.

“So Greg wondered, could this all be a case of mistaken identity?”

He wants to look through Plyler's criminal files, to see if there's anything in there that might tie him to the case beyond the truck. Like if you went by the nickname "Sketer" because "Sketer" is the nickname that keeps popping

us throughout the case as David Wood that David Wood's never used as a nickname, so it seems

a bit odd that that would be a name he would be giving to people. This depends on believing David Wood about the nickname, which Greg does. In either way, this Plyler deep dive seems to me like a real long shot. And it reminds me of a criticism I've heard a lot, mostly from prosecutors and judges.

minute so they can maximize the drama.

I ask him about this.

“So these are files that you've got for a long time here to tell.”

I guess I wondered if this name had all emerged? Yeah. I've had it for a long time when he said, "It's buried in 12,000 pages of records." He says it's buried in 12,000 pages of records. His point being that, yes, he's technically had Michael Plyler's name for years, but he's

been working solo for much of that time, so he's had to pick and choose what to focus on. But it's also true that Greg is incentivized to stretch this out as much as possible. To show up a court with new information right before the execution, that way the judges will be so overwhelmed they'll have to hit the pause button, and Greg's client gets to live another day.

In fact, Greg's already been accused pretty harshly of delaying David Wood's execution

in all kinds of ways. Last year, a judge summarizing the last 15 years of this case, accused David's defense of a quote "pattern of piecemeal litigation and delay." Over those years, Greg has filed motions to replace prosecutors

“to claim a judge had a conflict of interest to test this or that bit of evidence.”

He lost all these arguments, but the judge's point was, "This guy just throws spaghetti at the wall to see what sticks." And he does it one noodle at a time. Other lawyers get accused of the same things. There's a perception on the part of prosecutors and also lots of judges

that lawyers like Greg are such extreme anti-death penalty solits that they're willing to bend the rules if not outright break them.

To be clear, there's no evidence here that Greg broke any rules,

and he would deny bending them, but I personally think the real issue here isn't the lawyers and their individual conduct. It's the death penalty itself, a punishment that takes all of the tension that's inherent in a criminal case and ratchet that up. It's an invitation for a certain amount of distrust on all sides.

While Maurice finishes up at the courthouse, Naomi and I are off looking for Michelle Bradley's sister, Misty Mets. Naomi is hoping Misty will corroborate the Brady disclosure. Michelle's claim that her father was involved in the desert killings. We're driving for a bit when Naomi looks down and sees a text on her phone.

Her brows immediately furrow. What happened? She told her sister we're coming. Yeah. Michelle reached out to Misty.

Bad news for Naomi. Her element of surprise is now gone. But we're pretty close to the address at this point. So Naomi parks, frees it out for a minute, and pushes forward. We walk up to the door and Naomi rings the doorbell.

I hear barking before I see anyone. I've already fixed my face into a defeat grimace, when a slightly confused woman opens the door and welcomes the sand. Misty shows us into her living room and introduces us to her very friendly dog. named Brady of all things and let's me start rolling.

So, I don't know if it's Michelle, tell you that we are going to mess with your dog talk. But I just got a message from her telling me that you might be contacting me. So, I didn't know it was going to be today.

“That's why I'm going to have a little caught off guard.”

But yeah, that's fine. I'm very forward showing up on an ounce on your doorstep. Did your sister tell you a little bit about why we're reaching out? Only that she believes that my dad had something to do with the murders that David Woods is accused of

and that despite being a little caught off guard, Misty is surprisingly open to talking. Almost immediately though, she throws cold water on her sister's theories. My dad did something terrible. He murdered my stepmother.

He did. That's undisputable, but I don't think he had anything to do with this situation, with Woods. I really don't. I don't. Misty tells us she understands her sister's feelings about their dad. She shares some of them. She grew up in the same house and experienced all of the abuse too. But that's what the corroboration ends.

She has no idea for sister really saw one of the victims on their dad's couch in 1987, but she doesn't buy Michelle's theory. For what it's worth, Misty remembers her mom and dad were together at the time. So it's unlikely to hurt that another woman would just be lounging around the house like that. We talked for a little bit longer, but after a while, it's pretty clear

Misty has said just about all she knows. I don't have any other questions. I don't know if you have any questions for me. I think this is the figment of my sister's imagination. I'm sorry.

but I really don't think this is it.

It was hard to walk out of that conversation, feeling like there was anything left to this lead. It was like witnessing a balloon deflating in real time. I can't totally get a read on how Naomi felt about it, though. Her expression is pretty sphinxed like sitting next to me in a car,

“so I sneak in a temperature check. Can I just really quickly just while we're still here?”

Yes. Did hearing any of that change the way you heard the shells conversation? In terms of facts, Misty did not say anything different to the extent that she confirmed that her father was a very violent and abusive man. So, it's a difference of not opinion, but it's a difference of belief as to whether their father was involved or not, which neither knows to be factually correct or incorrect. They've both said their father was

a terrible person and a very violent person. I was not surprised by Naomi doing her job here, spinning me a little bit.

Trying to make the best possible case for a client, which is basically, two women confirmed their

father was an abusive murderer who happened to be an alpasa at the time of the desert killer. But it did strike me the name it could leave out the part where Misty throws cold water on her sister's story. In fact, it seems like she's incentivized to leave it out.

“If more digging wasn't going to help, I really didn't seem like a wood at this point.”

Then it was probably better to leave the whole thing kind of thin and single sourced. It was a little surreal to me to imagine this going into a legal filing, but eventually I will read the lore as final draft, and there it will be, page 197, all dressed up and respectable, and it's severe fun and one-inch margins. It will include lots of Michelle's claims, like the story about seeing Ivy Williams on the sofa.

It will not include any trace of the messy relationship between two astrange sisters, no hint of their radically different versions of the past. It wasn't Naomi's job to present all its context, but it did make me wonder about a process where you could leave this much of it out. Naomi and I had off for Misty's. It's been a long day of driving around El Paso,

and to me at least, it doesn't feel like we've got much to show for it. There's a punchy lightly defeated air in the car. Naomi's head in the direction of her hotel, but then her phone's light up. Greg, apparently, should go with one of his own door knocks. So when unexpected opened up, I had a real information to share. That's after the break.

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Free access to the athletics World Cup coverage in our app. Download the athletic app and see you there. Greg and I finish up at the courthouse around lunchtime. Before we head back to the hotel, we propose as we swing by someone's house first. A woman he's been trying to talk to for some time now.

Ramona dismukes. Her importance as a witness is kind of questionable. She was best friends with a girl who disappeared back in 1987. A lot of people in El Paso assumed David Wood was responsible,

but police never found evidence and he wasn't convicted of it.

It's the kind of witness I could imagine skipping. But Greg decides it's worth a try. We pull off the highway and drive up to the small house, where a guy with a mohawk is hauling stuff out to a dumpster. Greg hops out of the car and talks to him.

I see a woman in the rear view mirror.

“Greg leads the woman towards the car and I roll down my window.”

What's your name? I'm sorry. I'm Ramona dismukes. Everyone is half interrupting each other. Ramona tells us the mohawk guy is actually her husband. She moved out of state and is just back to due renovations.

She seems excited to talk to Greg, but says the house is too much of a mess to invite him in. She suggests another spot. I mean, there's like a water burger up the street, right around the corner. Okay, and I can tell you.

Your husband said you might have like files and records still. I still have all of the old articles. I have everything. All right. Naomi and Alvin meet us at the water burger. As the only native Texan in this group,

I feel obligated to say water burger is a state institution, but it is not a great place to do an interview. There's loud music, soda fountains, and fryer is going, people coming in and out. Ramona blazes in, big expressive face.

Her hair is wild and curly. Some of the layers died cherry red.

“She slaps down this giant binder, very dusty.”

That says Mona's articles. She also goes by Mona. In cursive letters, next to what looks like a cigarette burn. It's full of old newspaper clippings that leave flakes on the table. Apparently, all those years Greg was developing his theories of what really happened in 1987,

Ramona was nursing her own. Al Paso is a pretty big city, but Ramona talked about it like a small town. David Wood, the police, the victims, their parents, everybody knows everybody,

as if somehow they all went to high school together. Even this water burger is relevant in a way. Ramona tells us she got involved in this case, because of her best friend, Cheryl Vasquez. When they were still teenagers, Cheryl married Ramona's brother,

which made them best friends and sisters in law, and Cheryl. She worked right here at this water burger. This is where she worked. When she went missing, she was working here.

And she never even got her last check from this place because she was gone.

But... Cheryl was 19 when she disappeared. The same summer as all the desert killer victims. When bodies started turning up in the desert, Ramona was worried that Cheryl was going to be one of them.

She felt the cops weren't looking hard enough for her friend. So she enlisted her mom, and they decided to figure out what happened to Cheryl themselves. They knew Cheryl was last seen at this one Circle K convenience store. And so they came up with, frankly, a totally bonkers plan.

We started hanging out with that Circle K. And my mom was literally tricking me. She was like, "Looks it on that wall, and somebody's going to come and try to kidnap you, and I'll call the cops, and we'll get 'em."

And we'll know who it was, and I'm like... Okay. She's like a real character from what I... Oh, she was spicy, and the moment she died. She had me sit on that wall in Little Swords, 17 years old,

waiting to get me kidnapped. I'm like, "Thanks, Mom." But... By way of explanation, Ramona says that her mom was, quote, "German." The lawyers don't ask her to explain more. But it strangest the plan was, there was some logic to it.

Ramona and Cheryl were about the same age, and according to Ramona, looked so alike that they got mistaken for sisters. Ramona's mom thought she could use her daughter's looks to lure out the desert killer. Ramona says that she and her mom did the Circle K routine over a few days with no luck. Then, one afternoon, she was sitting on a wall outside the store in her shorts,

when she saw a truck approach. We're around town with that the desert killer drove a beige or a brown truck. One day, this brown truck came rolling in and went to the store and came out and looked over at me and was like, "Oh, shit. Through a quarter at me. Go home."

"Huh? Go home. Your family's looking for you. They said I stole you.

“The cops didn't ask any questions. You need to take your ass home."”

And I'm like, "Who are you talking to?" And I didn't know.

This was how Ramona first met David Wood.

At this point, the cops were starting to zero and on him for the disappearances, including Cheryl's, and he knew it. He mistakenly thought Ramona was Cheryl, because, again, they looked alike. So that part of the plan actually worked.

Ramona says he tossed a quarter at her, as in, "You are the girl the cops think I abducted. Please use this quarter to call home on the payphone. Tell everyone you're safe." Ramona goes on to tell us about the surprising relationship

that developed between her, her mom, and David Wood, something between a friendship and a covert op. David Wood himself remembers spending time with the two of them. But what he didn't know is that they were also spying on him. Ramona says her mom started inviting David Wood to their house.

He'd come over, she'd give him coffee, they'd hang out, they'd talk. "My mom bought him a slick." And she was. "My mom was like, you know, I'm going to say her and talk to him. You go search his truck, you know."

and rifleed the risk truck, trying to find something incriminating.

But she never did.

“She also saw him getting nauseous around blood.”

She cut her hand in front of him once, which, well not exactly exonerating, didn't scream serial killer either. For Ramona and her mom, it all added up to one thing. David Wood could not be the desert killer. Ramona says her mom was eager to help clear his name.

"My mom immediately called the detectives. He's the wrong guy, you got the wrong guy, because he didn't get that my daughter, and she looks just like Cheryl. And he threw him a quarter at her and told her to go home. And you know, my mom's German, very feisty, very loud.

She's like, "I got her to check." So they're like, "Oh, we want to come and talk to you." The police came to the house and asked Ramona to come down to the station to give a statement to detectives. She was sketched out.

And I said, "Now I'm not going to give you a statement." They said, "Well, we want to show you something." So they put me in the car and took me out to the desert. And they're like, you know, there's bodies out here, and it would be really easy for you to be out here.

And they wanted me to write a statement. They told me out there in the desert. We need you to go back and write a statement. We need you to tell us that David Wood tried to take you. I said, "But he didn't try to take me."

He threw a quarter at me and told me to go home. Because that's not what we need you to say. I said, "But that's not the truth." And they said, "You know, you look just like all the other girls that are gone." This could be you.

And I was like, "Are you threatening me?" And they're like, "Well, no, we're just telling you that if you don't put him away, he might take you." Ramona says that detectives who drove her out to the desert were Johnny Guerrero and his partner, Alfonso Marquez.

She eventually put all of this in a sworn statement to the court. Ramona is not the first person to accuse these guys of abusing their power. There's George Hall, the guy you called Greg with the whole story of the jailhust informants in the red carpet treatment, and later laid out his claims in a sworn declaration. According to trial transcripts, at least one other witness claimed the police tried to

add falsehoods to her statement. In a different case from around this time, a suspect told a reporter the detective Guerrero bullied him into a false confession.

“We asked detective Guerrero about that interrogation, and he said he didn't remember it.”

He also denied ever taking Ramona out to the desert. Actually, what he said was, "She's full of shit."

Moreover, he told us in his 15 years in homicide, "I was never accused of any wrongdoing or coercion

by anyone I talked to or any case I worked," unquote. Detective Marquez, for his part, died a couple of years ago, but it is worth noting that he had a reputation for lying and using force. In a different case, he allegedly bullied a 16-year-old kid to make him confess to two murders. The kid was later exonerated after serving nearly 20 years in prison.

Watching the lawyers interview Ramona, watching them jot down notes at every twist and turn, I was struck by how absurd it was that this was where we found ourselves, 50 days out from the execution. All of us huddled around a table in this waterburger. The lawyers trying to piece together something useful from this same story.

Ramona is entertaining, but since I'm not steeped in the case, it also seems like she mixes theories and stories and gossip and evidence so effortlessly, and it's such a rapid clip that it's a little hard to keep up, much less to accept it all at face value. I look over at Greg and Naomi to see how they're reacting,

to get some clue about how seriously I should take all of this. But there are more or less statues, very stoic, these two lawyers in a waterburger. All of which to say, I'm not sure how to assess some of the other claims Ramona makes. The most explosive ones concern a very important person in the case against David Wood, Judith Kelling.

And when I heard her name, I'm like, this is that roster to the same David Rape character. Judith Kelling was the woman who claimed David Wood raped her out in the desert.

She had been a crucial witness at his murder trial,

and her account helped establish the desert killer's MO. Ramona says she was out one day looking for her sister-in-law who was still missing when she spotted Kelling and settled up to her. So I'm like playing it cool with her, and I'm like, oh yeah, you know, I'm looking for my sister, and I didn't even know, and she's like, oh, the David Wood thing.

“She's like, yeah, you know, that's all bullshit, and I was like, what do you mean?”

And she's like, you didn't do anything to me. Really? So she told you this in, after David Wood's arrested in October of 1980, she was already charged with her rape when he was charged with before he was killed. You can tell in Greg's voice how much he would love to poke holes in Judith Kelling's credibility.

It's something he's been trying to do for years. For example, he found one source who gave a sworn statement to the court that Judith Kelling had been a police informant. And specifically, that she'd been detective Johnny Guerrero's informant when she reported her rape.

On top of that, Greg has noticed that her story of what exactly happened in the desert kept changing,

getting more and more aligned with other things the police believed about David Wood and the murders. Greg uses these points to make an argument in court filings. Desperate to solve the murders, detective Guerrero squeezed an equally desperate Judith Kelling to point the finger at David Wood. We asked detective Guerrero about all of this and he denies that Kelling was ever his informant.

Judith Kelling died a decade ago, so Greg can't ask her about it. But here in this waterburger, Ramona claims Kelling revealed much more to her about what really went down. So what she's telling me, they made a deal with me to get me out of jail, and all I got to do is test her against this guy. I was like, "Well, were you even raped?" She's like, "Yeah, but not by him."

"Like who?" She said, "My pliler." I'm like, "Who's this guy?"

“Mike Pliler? What? The same guy Greg asked about at the courthouse a few hours ago?”

The one I thought was a long shot? I look over at Greg and I can see he's just a surprised. He's barely able to contain himself, not in so hard it's like he's swaying. Ramona says that after she got Mike Pliler's name from Judith, she and her mom looked for the guy,

and well, basically stalked him. They sticked out as apartment,

watched him come and go. They were blown away by the similarities between this man and David Wood, similar builds, similar tattoos, on top of the similar trucks, they also both drove red motorcycles. I can practically see the gears turning in Greg's mind, and as the waterbigger fills with the sound of someone making the world's loudest milkshake, he tosses out one more question.

Do you have any information about this nickname skater that supposedly is-- That's Peter. My pliler's skater. Well, when you say that, how do you know that he's skater? That's what Judith called him.

“That's what she called him. She called him, she called him skater.”

So, that's skater.

Ramona says that she went to the cops back in 1987 and told them everything she learned

about David Wood about Judith Kelling and about Michael Plyler, and she says the cops did nothing. They could have, for example, looked more into Plyler, gotten some DNA samples, polygraphed him. Instead, Ramona says they simply told her to stay away. Ramona's whole story is wild, obviously. As we wrap up at the waterbigger, it's not clear to me how Greg is going to use it all. Whether he's going to try to corroborate

any of these details, they're not sure that's really possible. I can imagine what a prosecutor might say. For example, the Judith Kelling story that it wasn't David Wood who raped her? Well, the state could point to trial testimony from Kelling's sister, who said Judith identified David Wood as the rapist right after it happened. Greg could go after the sister's

“credibility, but the question remains, why would Judith Kelling make a grand revelation to Ramona?”

A teenager, she just met. There's also a question about Ramona's motivations. I found it all news story that says she was banned from the El Paso County Jail. She had allegedly graffitied "I Love David Wood" on the wall of a visiting booth. Ramona denies it and says people were just out to turn his reputation because she was questioning the police department's version of events. Still, not a great thing to have out there on the internet.

But what's most useful to Greg, I think, are all those moments when the cops appear to have tunnel vision. For example, when Ramona says they tried to get her to falsely accused David Wood, or when she says they ignored the pliler story. Especially if the state didn't tell Wood's lawyers about this stuff before his trial. I wouldn't call these bombshells, but I would call them good evidence. And you could argue that Greg only found it all because the execution date

forced him to knock on every door one more time. I ended up calling my pliler a few weeks later. He confirmed that he did live in El Paso during the time in question. His tone got a little sharp when I asked a few end-by-the-nick name skater. He interrupted me and said, quote, "That's false." When asked about raping anyone, or being the desert killer, he said, quote, "I haven't done nothing. I don't have nothing to hide."

After we hung up, I sent him Ramona's claims. He ghosted me. I do feel for him. This whole episode made me see just how easy it is for anyone to be accused of pretty egregious stuff in a legal filing. In this case, rape and being a suspect in a serial murder case. All because some stranger mentions your name in a waterburger. We thought we had to use pliler's name, given how much it showed up in the lawyers' legal filing,

but we also felt like this man deserves every possible opportunity to respond. So, after I sent a ton of follow-ups that went unanswered, Alvin and I decided we just had to try and

of warning signs about a pitbull, and then we heard barking. I did see a dog through the window,

“pretty cute, actually. Pliler opened up just to tell us, quote, "I'm not interested."”

I asked if I could give him a folder with Ramona's claims. He suggested I throw it in the garbage. I leaned over to put it on the door mat, and by the time I stood back up, the door was closed.

The whole thing lasted maybe 10 seconds. I haven't been able to reach him since.

Greg will add Ramona's claims to what'll file in court in a few weeks.

“But first, he tells me he wants to bring what he's found to another audience. An audience that will,”

if it's possible, be even more skeptical than the judges. Even more likely to see it all as

smoke in mirrors. The mother of one of the desert killer's victims. That's next time, on the last 12 weeks.

The last 12 weeks is written and reported by me, Maurice Schema, and Alvin Melleth. Alvin produced the series. Gen Guera edited the series along with Anita Badajo. Julie Snyder is the

“executive editor for serial productions, additional editing from Akiba Solomon. Fak checking and”

research by Ben Falen, music supervision by Gen Guera and Phoebe Wang, with mixing by Phoebe Wang, additional mixing by Katherine Anderson, tracking direction from Sean Cole. Our associate producer is Mac Miller, additional production by Anita Badajo, additional reporting by Reyes Mata III. There's a lot about the death penalty that we couldn't fit into this show. Stories from capital defense lawyers, a fascinating look at the data behind executions. You can find all of that in our

newsletter. Sign up for it at nytimes.com/serialnewsletter. Original music for this series by Adam Dorne, aka motion worker, Bataia's bossy and John Evans of Stellwagon Symphinette, additional music by Dan Powell and Marian Luzano. Adam Dorne, aka motion worker composed our theme song. Video production by Sean Devaney, our standards editor is Susan Westling, legal review from Alimine Sumar and Jackson Vosch. The art for our show comes from Pablo Delcon. Sam Dolnik is deputy managing editor of

New York Times. Special thanks to Rema Cod, Jill Castellano, Mara Corbet, Julina Fong and Janelle Piper. The last 12 weeks is a production of Cero Productions, the Marshall Project, and the New York Times. you