Two years earlier Lowell Lee Andrews, an enormous, weak-eyed boy of eighteen who wore horn-rimmed glasses and weighed almost three hundred pounds, had been a sophomore at the University of Kansas, an honor student majoring in biology. Though he was a solitary creature, withdrawn and seldom communicative, his acquaintances, both at the university and in his home town of Wolcott, Kansas, regarded him as exceptionally gentle and âsweet-naturedâ (later one Kansas paper printed an article about him entitled: âThe Nicest Boy in Wolcottâ). But inside the quiet young scholar there existed a second, unsuspected personality, one with stunted emotions and a distorted mind through which cold thoughts flowed in cruel directions. His family - his parents and a slightly older sister, Jennie Marie - would have been astounded had they known the daydreams Lowell Lee dreamed throughout the summer and autumn of 1958; the brilliant son, the adored brother, was planning to poison them all.
The elder Andrews was a prosperous farmer; he had not much money in the bank, but he owned land valued at approximately two hundred thousand dollars. A desire to inherit this estate was ostensibly the motivation behind Lowell Leeâs plot to destroy his family. For the secret Lowell Lee, the one concealed inside the shy church going biology student, fancied himself an ice-hearted master criminal: he wanted to wear gangsterish silk shirts and drive scarlet sports cars; he wanted to be recognized as no mere bespectacled, bookish, overweight, virginal schoolboy; and while he did not dislike any member of his family, at least not consciously, murdering them seemed the swiftest, most sensible way of implementing the fantasies that possessed him. Arsenic was the weapon he decided upon; after poisoning the victims, he meant to tuck them in their beds and burn down the house, in the hope that investigators would believe the deaths accidental. However, one detail perturbed him: suppose autopsies revealed the presence of arsenic? And suppose the purchase of the poison could be traced to him? Toward the end of summer he evolved another plan. He spent three months polishing it. Finally, there came a near-zero November night when he was ready to act.
It was Thanksgiving week, and Lowell Lee was home for the holidays, as was Jennie Marie, an intelligent but rather plain girl who attended a college in Oklahoma. On the evening of November 28, somewhere around seven, Jennie Marie was sitting with her parents in the parlor watching television; Lowell Lee was locked in his bedroom reading the last chapter of The Brothers Karamazov. That task completed, he shaved, changed into his best suit, and proceeded to load both a semi-automatic .22- caliber rifle and a Ruger .22-caliber revolver. He fitted the revolver into a hip holster, shouldered the rifle, and ambled down a hall to the parlor, which was dark except for the flickering television screen. He switched on a light, aimed the rifle, pulled the trigger, and hit his sister between the eyes, killing her instantly. He shot his mother three times, and his father twice. The mother, eyes gaping, arms outstretched, staggered toward him; she tried to speak, her mouth opened, closed, but Lowell Lee said: âShut up.â To be certain she obeyed him, he shot her three times more. Mr. Andrews, however, was still alive; sobbing, whimpering, he thrashed along the floor toward the kitchen, but at the kitchenâs threshold the son unholstered his revolver and discharged every chamber, then re-loaded the weapon and emptied it again; altogether, his father absorbed seventeen bullets.Â
Andrews, according to statements credited to him, âdidnât feel anything about it. The time came, and I was doing what I had to do. Thatâs all there was to it.â After the shootings he raised a window in his bedroom and removed the screen, then roamed the house rifling dresser drawers and scattering the contents: it was his intention to blame the crime on thieves. Later, driving his fatherâs car, he traveled forty miles over snowslippery roads to Lawrence, the town where the University of Kansas is located; en route, he parked on a bridge, dismantled his lethal artillery, and disposed of it by dropping the parts into the Kansas River. But of course the journeyâs true purpose was to arrange an alibi. First he stopped at the campus house where he roomed; he talked with the landlady, told her that he had come to pick up his typewriter, and that because of the bad weather the trip from Wolcott to Lawrence had taken two hours. Departing, he visited a movie theater, where, uncharacteristically, he chatted with an usher and a candy vendor. At eleven, when the movie let out, he returned to Wolcott. The familyâs
mongrel dog was waiting on the front porch; it was whining with hunger, so Lowell Lee, entering the house and stepping across his fatherâs corpse, prepared a bowl of warm milk and mush; then, while the dog was lapping it up, he telephoned the sheriffâs office and said, âMy name is Lowell Lee Andrews. I live at 6040 Wolcott Drive, and I want to report a robbery - â
Four officers of the Wyandotte County Sheriffâs Patrol responded. One of the group, Patrolman Meyers, described the scene as follows: âWell, it was one in the morning when we got there. All the lights in the house was on. And this big dark-haired boy, Lowell Lee, he was sitting on the porch petting his dog. Patting it on the head. Lieutenant At eleven, they asked the boy what happened, and he pointed to the door, real casual, and said, âLook in there.ââ Having looked, the astonished officers summoned the county coroner, a gentleman who was also impressed by young Andrewsâ callous nonchalance, for when the coroner asked him what funeral arrangements he wished to have made, Andrews replied with a shrug, âI donât care what you do with them.ââ
origamiaround
janainaart
jbbartram-illu
gummygunk
turnnoffyourmind
germansingergirl
jacobvanloon
2087
blakekathryn
