Baton Rouge Women Live in Fear

By Lianne Hart

April 30, 2003 12 AM PT

BATON ROUGE, La. — Anxiety is deepening here as the unidentified killer of five southern Louisiana women continues to elude police.

“It’s like chasing a ghost,” said Sterling Colomb Jr., whose sister, Trineisha Dene Colomb, was the fourth to die. “He’s out there somewhere, but they haven’t caught him. To be honest, there’s a lot of frustration.”

Nineteen months after the first victim was found, a multi-agency task force is under mounting public pressure to produce a suspect. Their best weapon is the serial killer’s DNA, left at crime scenes between here and Lafayette, 60 miles west. More than 1,000 DNA swabs have been taken from men in and around Baton Rouge, said Cpl. Mary Ann Godawa, the task force spokeswoman; police have investigated more than 18,000 leads.

On Monday, Louisiana state representatives earmarked $650,000 for DNA analysis of 900 rape cases. It is the latest effort to catch a killer and calm a jittery public.

“I loved Baton Rouge when I first moved here -- it was beautiful and lush,” said Daphne Cain, 34. “Now, I don’t go anywhere alone. He [the serial killer] has taken away my independence. I’m frightened and very angry.”

For months, the killer was thought to be a white male between 25 and 35. Police circulated a composite sketch of a “person of interest” who might drive a white pickup truck. But after interviewing neighbors of the latest victim, who was found in March, investigators announced that the killer could be African American or of mixed heritage.

Exasperated residents of this city of more than 227,000 streamed to a town hall meeting at Louisiana State University and demanded to know why the killer was still at large.

“This is a very aggressive investigation and unfortunately these things are sometimes long term,” Godawa said. “We continue to ask for the public’s patience. We have released everything we felt was relevant to public safety.”

A task force Web site seeks to keep the public informed on the latest developments. A few clicks on the site, and the photos of the five victims materialize on the screen: Gina Wilson Green, a 41-year-old nurse found strangled in her Baton Rouge home on Sept. 24, 2001. Charlotte Murray Pace, 22, found stabbed in her townhouse near LSU on May 31, 2002. Pam Kinamore, a 44-year-old wife and mother, found in the grass off Interstate 10 on July 16, 2002. Her throat had been slit.

The only known victim not from Baton Rouge was Colomb, 23. Her bludgeoned body was found in woods outside Lafayette on Nov. 24, 2002.

A fisherman found the latest victim March 13. Carrie Lynn Yoder, a 26-year-old LSU graduate student, was strangled and left in the water near the bridge where Kinamore was discovered last summer.

At least three of the victims were sexually assaulted. There was no sign of forced entry at four of the victims’ homes, said investigators, sparking speculation that the killer may be wearing a police uniform to gain the trust of his victims.

Lynne Marino, Pam Kinamore’s mother, is discouraged by the sketchy information released so far. Although the FBI is involved with the investigation, Marino and other victims’ family members have argued for more outside help from experts on serial killers.

“I think the task force is doing the best they can. They’re working long hours, and they’re trying. But is that good enough?” Marino asked.

“I don’t think they know much more today than they did when it first happened, and the murders are continuing. This guy is not going away.”

Godawa said investigators have consulted with top experts in the field, but their names have not been released.

With no suspect apparently in sight, life goes on here, guarded and uneasy.

On a recent sunny afternoon, a usually crowded lakeside trail near LSU was almost deserted. A few students walked in pairs, shooting wary glances at a visitor unfolding a map in the parking lot.

Rebecca Chaisson, an assistant professor of social work at LSU, understands the apprehension. “The anxiety is contagious,” Chaisson said. “People don’t trust anymore. Fear of the unknown has never been this powerful before.”

For years, Chaisson counseled drug addicts and violent felons without a second thought. Now, for the first time, she is scared.

“There’s something different about this situation,” Chaisson said. “I find myself being hyper-vigilant, even when I get gas or coffee. I’m watching all the time, looking to see if somebody is following or looking at me in a strange way. I’m looking for some guy, and I don’t even know what he looks like.”

Cain was so concerned about security that she moved into a guesthouse on a friend’s gated property and bought a second dog. She always turns on the house alarm, never takes out the garbage alone, and may buy a second alarm that blares if a window breaks -- all in a 550-square-foot house where she can see everything at once.

Cain recently spotted a white truck on her street as she climbed out of her car.

“I almost slammed my hand in the door,” she said, remembering the rush to reach the safety of her home. “My heart was racing.”