Remembering Janice Ott and Denise Naslund

Sunday, July 14, 1974.  Bastille Day in France and an unusually sunny, warm day in Seattle, Washington.  For Washingtonians that are relentlessly outdoorsy, this was a perfect day to spend at one of the local lakes.

At Lake Sammamish State Park in Issaquah, roughly 20 miles east of Seattle,  some 40,000 people had descended on the park, including employees from Rainier Beer; Rainier was holding its annual picnic at the park.  By noon, the temperatures hit 90 degrees.

Jan in June 1974. She had less than a month to live. 

She's wearing the same shorts she would wear on July 14, 1974.

Janice Ott was one of the 40,000 people to flood the park that day.  Petite (only 5'1") with long blonde hair and grey-green eyes, Jan was still a newlywed, having married her husband Jim the year before.  A probation officer in Seattle, she had moved from the larger, busier city to Issaquah, feeling the smaller community was safer after her car was broken into.  She lived with a roommate, as her husband was in school in California, and was known for her sunny, bubbly personality.

Jan had spent the morning of the 14th doing laundry at her local laundromat and then having a cup of coffee with a friend she met and made there.  Returning to her apartment, she pulled on a black bikini, cut-off shorts and a white blouse she tied at her midriff, left a note for her roommate that she would be sunning herself at Lake Sammamish, and then hopped on her yellow Tiger bike for the quick ride.

Jan, who looked much younger than her 23 years, was such a pretty, sparkling girl that she was noticed by others, who watched her take out her towel, kick off her shoes, remove her blouse and shorts and apply cocoa butter to her skin.  Unfortunately for Jan, she was also a caring, compassionate person who, having studied psychology and the anti-social personality while in school, felt she could handle herself as well as lend a hand to others.

As she had been spotted upon arrival, she was also noted when, after being approached by a young man with his arm in a sling, she got up, re-dressed and left with him, pushing her bike.  It was around 12:30 and the last time Janice Ott was ever seen alive.

A school photograph of Denise

Denise Naslund had also chosen to spend this glorious Sunday at Lake Sammamish.  The 19 year old was a stunning girl with long dark hair and dark eyes.  A friendly girl, she had ambition to be more than just a secretary in life.  She was taking computer programming classes and paying for them by working as an office helper.

She had spent the earlier part of the day with her boyfriend of nearly a year and another couple.  The group had socialized, enjoying each other's company, and drank some beer and smoked a joint. When they decided to soak up the fresh air and sun at Lake Sammamish, they took Denise's car, a gift from her mother.  Denise's mother thought owning her own car would keep Denise safe.  The four friends arrived at Lake Sammamish in the afternoon, after Janice Ott had walked off with the mystery man.

The foursome, still high from beer, pills and the joint they smoked, had eaten hot dogs for lunch while at the park and then dozed off in the sunshine.  Denise had awoken around 4:30 and, noticing her dog, whom she had brought with her, was gone, headed off on her own to look for it and find the women's restrooms.  She was spotted in the restroom by a Seattle policewoman, who left the building at the same time Denise did.  She then vanished.

The man with his arm in a sling was noted by several women around that same time.  Denise's friends  would later say that Denise would always help someone in need and was friendly; more so, if she was under the influence.

Like Janice Ott, Denise had simply walked off, dressed in her blue halter top, cut-off jean shorts and Mexican style sandles.  The dog would return to Denise's boyfriend and friends; Denise would not.  She left them behind, as well as her car, with her handbag locked in the trunk.  

These most recent disappearances, after months of young women vanishing in the Seattle area, put residents on edge.  Jan was a mature and responsible woman; Denise had been warned by her mother of Washington State's missing women. Neither had a reason to voluntarily leave their lives.

Searches for both your women began immediately.  The lake itself was searched, as well as the park and wooded areas close by.  While many articles of clothing, underwear and bathing suits were discovered, neither Jan nor Denise was found, nor anything belonging to them.

Local authorities were baffled.  The killer had struck out in the open, in broad daylight - - the first abduction not to occur at night.  And he had taken two young women within the space of four hours.

For nearly two months, the fates of Jan and Denise would be unknown, until a hunter in Issaquah stumbled upon their remains and that of a third body, which would be unidentified until Ted Bundy's end of life confessions in 1989 where he disclosed the body had been that of Georgann Hawkins, who was abducted in June of 1974.  All three were found only two miles from Lake Sammamish State Park.

As is the case with other Bundy victims, the victims were overshadowed by the victimizer.  Jan and Denise were remembered more for their killer, and their horrific ends in this "double event" Bundy staged and committed, than the kind, generous people they were.  For the Ott and Naslund families, this tragedy was compounded by their daughters' remains being "misplaced" or "lost" by King County authorities when the department moved.

Janice Ott would never celebrate a second anniversary with her husband.  She was reportedly planning to join her husband in September - - the same month her body was discovered - - in California.  She never got the opportunity.  

Denise Naslund would never finish her computer course, never return to the bedroom in her mother's house with her guitar and stuffed animals.  Her mother would keep Denise's room unaltered, exactly as she left it, along with Denise's car parked out front, until she herself died in 2000.

Janice Anne Blackburn Ott

February 14, 1951 - July 14, 1974

Denise Marie Naslund

January 1, 1955 - July 14, 1974

In Memory of Georgann Hawkins

During his murderous career, Ted Bundy took the lives of many bright, lovely young women; some of his abductions seemed nearly too crazy to happen.  The case of Georgann Hawkins is one of those.

Georgann, known as "George" to her friends, was a happy, confident and beloved girl.  A Brownie and competitive swimmer as a child, she was full of energy and loved to talk.  She had many friends of all types; people simply enjoyed being around her.

As a teenager, Georgann developed into a beautiful young woman, with long dark hair, dancing eyes and a beaming smile.  As a 17 year old high school senior, she was named a Daffodil Princess, an experience that allowed her to travel throughout Washington State, meeting children, attending charity events and participating in parades.  In the spring of 1973, she went to the state Legislature where she addressed lawmakers.

Georgann as a Daffodil Princess in 1973

In the fall of 1973, Georgann began her freshman year at the University of Washington in Seattle, not too far from her parents in Tacoma.  She had worked all summer to have money in her pocket for the fun extras to enjoy during her first year of college.  A broadcast journalism major, she was tapped by the Kappa Alpha Theta sorority and lived in the sorority house with a gaggle of other sorority sisters.  She had a boyfriend who lived in a neighboring fraternity house.  She had blossomed and found her element.

By June of 1974, Georgann was finishing up her freshman year, where she had maintained an A average, and was preparing to go back to Tacoma for the summer, where she had a job lined up.  She truly seemed to have it all, the quintessential golden girl.

Until Ted Bundy entered an alleyway behind Georgann's sorority house in the early morning hours of June 11, 1974 and stole Georgann away.  She had been cramming for finals all day on Monday, June 10, taking a break during the evening to attend a party with friends.  She socialized, drank a few beers and then planned to return home to continue studying for a Spanish test that concerned her.  She and her roommate walked down the very alley that Bundy would soon traverse, with Georgann stopping off to see her boyfriend briefly.  She left his fraternity safely, walking the 150 or so yards toward her own house, passing students doing their own studying in front of open windows.  She was spotted by a friend as she walked the brightly lit alleyway;  he called out to her and the two spoke for a few moments.  He would later recall hearing a cackling type laughter coming from somewhere in the dark, something that Georgann too noticed.  When she walked away from her friend's open window, around 1 a.m., she had less than 50 feet to walk to access the door to her sorority.  In those 50 feet, she disappeared without a sound.

For 15 years, Georgann's friends and family would be in the dark as to her whereabouts.  Her family knew immediately that she was dead; she was a happy, responsible girl who had no reason to run away, nor would she.  They were left with only their memories of this sweet, outgoing young lady.

The investigators had a case that seemed too fantastical to contemplate.  They couldn't wrap their minds around how a predator had grabbed this lively and energetic girl, leaving nothing behind and without making a sound.  Until a double abduction a month later, they had not considered their suspect might have acted injured or disabled in order to attract, and disarm, victims.

Days away from his execution, Ted Bundy, always considered to be Georgann's abductor and likely murderer, confessed to kidnapping and killing her.  He had been on the prowl around the University area late on the evening of June 10, 1974, seeking a victim.  Utilizing crutches and/or a cast or sling on his arm to appear helpless and needy, he encountered Georgann before she reached her back door and, dropped a briefcase he used as a prop for his nefarious purposes.  Asking her if she would help him with the case, the kind-natured Georgann never hesitated.  She knew of the missing Seattle area women from 1974; she and her friends had discussed it.  They took proper precautions -- they didn't go out alone, they traveled in pairs and groups and always looked out for one another.  She probably felt she had no reason to fear a well-dressed, attractive and apparently disabled young man who was certainly a student.

Georgann willingly accompanied Bundy away from the alleyway, carrying his briefcase.  It was after arriving at his car, parked in a darkened area, that he hit her over the head with a crowbar he had secreted by one of the tires.  She never would have seen it coming and did not have the chance to utter a cry or scream.

Fifteen years later, Bundy would recount that after striking her, he handcuffed Georgann and put her in the passenger side of his VW, where he had removed the seat to accommodate an unconscious female.  He remembered that during the drive to his preselected murder destination, she had regained consciousness and, in a state of shock, was quite lucid -- talking about the Spanish test she had the next day.  When he arrived at a locale near Issaquah, where he intended to do his dirty work, he struck her again with the crowbar and strangled her.  The next month, he would leave two victims from Lake Sammamish State Park, Janice Ott and Denise Naslund, close to where he had abandoned Georgann.  When their skeletons were discovered in September of 1974, an extra femur bone was found.  Bundy would confirm it was Georgann's.  Nothing else of hers - - not any other part of her body, not her blue bell bottom slacks with one button remaining, not her handbag with the little bottle of "Heaven Sent" perfume -- has ever been found.

In a single instant, Ted Bundy not only spirited away a daughter, sister and friend, he subjected Georgann's loved ones to the indescribable pain of not knowing what happened to her.

Within days of Bundy's execution in 1989, friends held a memorial service for Georgann at the high school she had graduated from 16 years earlier.  Her parents, who had never spoken to the media, shied away from interviews and declined book requests, did not attend.  They chose instead to remember their daughter from the photographs and the cards and notes in which the authors had written of how Georgann had touched him or her.

Georgann Hawkins

August 20, 1955 - June 11, 1974