Behind the Mask: A True Story of Obsession and a Savage Genius - Softcover

Buch 54 von 75: St. Martin's True Crime Library

Sands, Stella

 
9780312944704: Behind the Mask: A True Story of Obsession and a Savage Genius
Softcover
ISBN 10: 0312944705 ISBN 13: 9780312944704
Verlag: Saint Martins True Crime, 2009

Inhaltsangabe

In this shocking true account that proves you can't judge a book by its cover, forty-year-old William Coday, a seemingly kind and helpful librarian, brutally murdered his ex-girlfriend--a horrific crime that exposed even darker secrets and unspeakable acts from his past. Original.

Die Inhaltsangabe kann sich auf eine andere Ausgabe dieses Titels beziehen.

Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor


Stella Sands is Executive Editor of Kids Discover, an award-winning magazine with over 400,000 subscribers geared to children 7 to 12 years old. She is author of the true-crime book Baby-faced Butchers, as well as other works including Odyssea and Natural Disasters. Her plays, Lou Passin’ Through, Black-eyed Peas, and E-me, have been produced in Off-Off Broadway theaters in New York City.


Von der hinteren Coverseite



A mild-mannered man who worked in a library.

Forty-year-old William Coday lived the quiet life of a scholar. He spoke six languages and held degrees in history, literature, and library science. As a librarian in Fort Lauderdale, Florida, he was known to be unfailingly kind and helpful. But you can t always judge a book by its cover

The beautiful woman who broke his heart.

When Coday failed to show up for work one day, a concerned colleague looked for him at his apartment only to discover the body of Gloria Gomez. Coday s ex-girlfriend, Gomez had been bludgeoned to death with 144 blows by two hammers and a knife. Police at the scene had little doubt that Coday was the killer. But other, darker secrets from Coday s past had yet to come to light

A history of obsessive love and brutality

In one of the most shocking crime cases and legal appeals in Florida history, an extraordinary courtroom battle began.What the jury did not know was that Coday, when he lived abroad, had beaten another ex-girlfriend to death; the courts there had deemed him insane. Who was William Coday: Mentally unstable? Or perfectly capable and guilty of murder in the first degree? Soon it would be up to prosecutors to prove who the real man was BEHIND THE MASK.

With 8 pages of graphic photos!



Auszug. © Genehmigter Nachdruck. Alle Rechte vorbehalten.

Chapter One

 

The Scene of a Crime

 

Librarians are a helpful lot. Dedicated, responsible, and eager to assist, they're counted on by the young and old for their patience, broad knowledge, and resourcefulness, though they're also often characterized as uptight. When 100 people were surveyed on the TV game show Family Feud and asked what a typical librarian's characteristics were, they responded: Quiet, Mean or Stern, Single/Unmarried, Stuffy, In Glasses. Admissions officers interviewed in several college library programs had a different take. They stated that the finest librarians have excellent communication skills, are eager to provide service, and have an outstanding ability to organize knowledge. Male librarians, by far the lesser-represented gender in the group, are considered equally resourceful and just as competent as female librarians. They are typically mild, civil, and intellectual. "Macho" men need not apply; eccentrics may. And one did.

 

William E. Coday Jr., 38, fit most of the characteristics offered by Family Feud contestants and the admissions officers. He was quiet, meek though occasionally stern, single, sometimes stuffy, bespectacled, eager to help, well organized, widely read, and highly intellectual. In 1995, Coday applied for the prestigious job of supervisor of the International Languages Collection at the Broward County Main Library in Fort Lauderdale, Florida, and was hired on the spot. Among other duties he was expected to perform, he was put in charge of expanding the library's international language collection, which brought with it the special perk of travel abroad. It was a plum position—$33,000 per year— and Coday was a natural for it. Fluent in Spanish, German, French, and, of course, English, he was also proficient in Italian, Hindi, and Farsi. He held three degrees: a bachelor's degree in history and literature, a master's degree in library science, and a law degree. Plus, he had lived abroad in Germany and India for several years. What better person to fill the position?

 

The library, located on South Andrews Avenue in downtown Fort Lauderdale, was a bustling place— and a breathtaking site. Ultramodern, with a stepped glass façade that was punctuated with lush, landscaped terraces, the building was both eye-catching and inviting. From a reflecting pool on the first floor, an atrium rose six stories, allowing the Florida sunshine to brighten the central hall for the over 600,000 individuals who visited the library every year.

 

By all accounts, William Coday was a model employee for the two years that he worked there. Library official Steve Kerr called him an "intelligent, laid-back person . . . a very charming, bright, interesting, attractive young man," who was also "personable and very witty." Punctual, helpful, and resourceful, Coday was admired by his colleagues for his vast knowledge, and counted on by library-goers for his self-effacing assistance. Kathleen Imhoff, assistant director of Broward County Libraries stated, "He was an employee in good standing," and noted that he had been promoted the year after he arrived. Records indicated that he never missed a day's work without calling in ahead of time, and that missing work was an infrequent occurrence.

 

So when, on Saturday, July 12, 1997, Coday failed to appear for work at the front desk of the library, or call in sick, several staffers became concerned. Marjorie Moorefield, a co-worker, took it upon herself to cover the desk until he arrived. After all, Coday was her good friend, and friends help out friends in time of need. She wondered if perhaps Bill was hanging out in the back room, chatting with colleagues and enjoying a cup of coffee, and had somehow lost track of the time. But after making a quick check of the room, she knew for sure he hadn't shown up. In fact, no one she spoke to had seen him at all that morning.

 

Feeling uneasy, Moorefield asked one of the staffers to give Coday a call. Her first thought was that "he was reading one too many books and some car hit him." That's because the previous week, as she and her husband were driving home from Borders bookstore, they had spotted Coday crossing a street, deeply immersed in a book, blithely unconcerned and perhaps unaware of cars. She had said to her husband then that she feared for his safety.

 

The staffer called Coday and reported back to Moorefield that no one had answered his phone. She said she'd left a message on his machine. By 10 o'clock, Coday still hadn't shown up, and according to several librarians, Moorefield became "a nervous wreck" because "it's just not like him at all." Moorefield asked a fellow librarian to take her place at the desk so she could take a ride to Coday's apartment to check things out. By that time, three different messages had been left on Coday's machine, and still, there was no word back from him.

 

If it had been any other staffer besides Coday, Moorefield and others at the library might not have blinked an eye. But because "Bill had been meticulously on time and reliable as an employee," his absence was unusual. Plus, recently, things about him had begun to change. For one, he had lost a great deal of weight. For another, he had become extremely quiet, barely looking up from his desk to speak to his colleagues. And several times in the previous weeks, he had disappeared into the elevator without telling anyone where he was going, an act that was against library policy— staffers were not supposed to leave their desks without first telling someone where they were going, and making sure their post was covered. Plus, he often seemed oblivious to what was going on—out of it, in fact—and that was not like the Bill they knew. At one point during the previous week, Moorefield had realized that she was the only person at the library Coday was still speaking to. Other staffers also noticed that something was definitely out of whack with Coday. His appearance, which had been meticulous and appropriate, and his demeanor, which had been dignified and engaging, had deteriorated. It seemed that showers and clean clothes were a thing of the past. Some days, he even arrived at work unshaven and with stains on his shirt. Talking among themselves, some co-workers expressed fear that he might be suicidal. They all knew that he had recently broken up with a girlfriend, and had been very unhappy about it.

 

After a fellow librarian agreed to cover the desk for Moore-field, she and a colleague drove to Coday's corner apartment, 1B, at 1701 Northeast 5th Street, in the Victoria Park neighborhood. Perhaps Coday was sick. Perhaps he was too depressed to get out of bed. Perhaps— and they could always hope— he had reconciled with his girlfriend, and the two were having some fun.

 

As the librarians drove along, they agreed to each look at a different side of the street to see if Coday was walking to the library. After all, he had no car, and either walked or biked to work every day. It could be that he had simply forgotten what time he was supposed to show up that Saturday. His co-workers scanned the road, but Coday was nowhere to be seen.

 

By that time, it was around 1 p.m. As the two women pulled up in front of the apartment, their spirits soared. There, in the front yard behind the wooden fence lined with bursting, bright pink bougainvilleas, was Coday's trusty bicycle. Probably, he was still asleep. They were ready to tease...

„Über diesen Titel“ kann sich auf eine andere Ausgabe dieses Titels beziehen.

Verlag
Saint Martins True Crime
Erscheinungsdatum
2009
Sprache
Englisch
ISBN 10 
0312944705
ISBN 13 
9780312944704
Einband
Taschenbuch
Anzahl der Seiten
242
Kontakt zum Hersteller
Nicht verfügbar
Verantwortliche Person
Nicht verfügbar