He could not figure out for the life of him what was driving this woman so crazy. Not crazy, as in fun, but crazy as in clinical. Pathologically insane. She had some serious issues somewhere. He just wished they could be resolved. He wanted his client to return to normal, whatever that was.

He’d been a talent manager and an entertainment attorney for decades and handled lots of nutty clients. But this one just seemed — over the edge. Whatever possessed her, and drove her to her extremes, he wanted to know. Maybe he could help her? She cursed him out and fired him.

Then she told him (and eventually me) everything, AFTER she had fired him. This was in 2017 — and what she told took ourbreath away. The lawyer was determined to do everything he could to help her, his own career be damned. Some things mean more than money or accolades. He really cared for her, and just wanted her to be healthy, safe, and reasonably sane.

After she shared the truth with him, he was more determined than ever to help her return to normal. If possible. But some things are too big to overcome. Normal — whatever the accepted majority definition — is just too far a stretch for some. Now, he at least realized why she would never be “normal”.

It was a nice weekend outside of Tampa, Florida that Winter of 1978.

Just a month prior, the movie Saturday Night Fever came out and everybody loved disco. The music and the dancing. Especially this one 17 year-old girl from Florida, (we will call her LUCKY). She loved dancing and thought Travolta was such a hunk. Recently in the news, Lucky had seen that a plane crashed and killed a ball team in Indiana; Charlie Chaplin had died; and President Jimmy Carter didn’t seem to be doing anything right.

This teenage girl, Lucky, always watched the news. She liked knowing more than other kids, and always liked how serious the reporters were. They were important- like they too knew something others didn’t. That’s the way she saw herself when she grew up. An important person doing important things.

Lucky was in high school and was in a big family. She always impressed her dad (a lawyer) with her knowledge of current events. He was always acting the role of the conservative Southern-bred man of tradition. But it was her step-dad, a surgeon, who she loved talking about events with. He always made her feel special even over the large household she shared with her many siblings. He too was very conservative, and with Lucky’s mom together they always preached those old fashioned family values about God, America, Mom, and apple pie.

They were so glad their kids weren’t like those unwashed hippies! They were such mature, rational, intelligent kids from a good background. The future leaders of America. Especially that Lucky. She was gonna go far. Even early on, Lucky had her sights on being a grown up. She wanted to be one of those important people on the television news. She always wanted to be important.

At 17yo, Lucky had many older friends. Most were already in college, so it was natural that she go visit them and check out the colleges in the area. Florida had plenty to choose from. But for Lucky, she was only interested in University of Florida; Florida State; or Miami. Since she knew friends at all three, she naturally went to visit them and check out what the schools had to offer. Her parents obliged, since she was so responsible and had responsible friends. Besides — Lucky’s father knew everybody in law enforcement and politics so she was always safe (even when she didn’t know it). She always had somebody looking out for her — or over her — it seemed.

Lucky liked to go to parties, but was always a little shy and reserved. Part of it was the guilt of her conservative upbringing; the other part was her fear of getting in trouble. She always walked a thin line between fun and trouble, never quite crossing it. She was attractive enough, with her long dark hair — and plenty smart. She was a cheerleader but not very outgoing. She considered herself too nerdy to be overly popular. She’d rather spend her time reading or imitating women newscasters. But like any 17yo, she still liked to have fun. So when she found herself at a party with boys; and beer kegs were flowing — she was happy to join in.

It was at just such a party where Lucky found herself on a fateful weekend visit to Florida State University. There at the sprawling Tallahassee campus; early during that Spring semester; and she loved it all. The 17yo high school senior was going to be turning eighteen soon and graduating. She knew she’d feel more comfortable in college.

It was a nice weekend in northern Florida — and a great time to visit. It was a long trip for Lucky and her friend Amy, but it was a fun road trip for two high school girls. They left very early that Saturday morning, because their other friend Kim told them about a big party at the college that Saturday night. It was Super Bowl weekend, and a lot of students from football-crazy FSU had made the trek to New Orleans for the big game. But those who stayed planned to live it up and party the night before the big game.

It was a perfect weekend for high school seniors to go and check out a potential college home for the next four years. They’d be graduating soon, and were already applying to in-state schools. They couldn’t wait to get there, and they drove like mad until they arrived over the long journey from south of Tampa all the way up the panhandle. Like clock work, they’d stop and call back home to tell their parents they were safe and well. The parents really never worried.

Once on campus, they met their friend Kim, who was a Freshman there. There were tons of young college men, and many knew how to dance. They all seemed to look like John Travolta or Robert Redford. But it wasn’t just the boys that Lucky found herself spending time with at the party. She seemed to find her element when she struck up fast friendships with some of the older girls. They too liked current events, and kept up with the news. Lucky felt like she fit right in.

There was a girl named KC who Lucky knew from back in high school. KC was a year or two older, and was the prom queen at their high school. They had been in the cheerleading program together back home. KC was beautiful, wealthy, and everybody loved her. She was popular, athletic, and very sophisticated. Lucky just knew that KC would make it to Hollywood or New York or somewhere big. Everyone seemed drawn to KC — both guys and girls. As the drinking and partying wore on that night, Lucky and KC had way too much to drink. Lucky enjoyed the attention from KC and the boys in KC’s orbit at the party. It seemed to Lucky that it was what a Saturday night in college was all about. It was great!

Instead of going back with Amy to Kim’s dorm room to stay, Lucky told her other friends that she was going to hang out with KC and visit her sorority. KC said her own roommate was out for the night and she had an extra bed. Did she wanna check it out? Maybe see if she might consider being a “Greek” when she started college in the Fall? It sounded so cool to Lucky. After all, sorority girls were the leaders of tomorrow. Besides — all the good looking, mature, fraternity men always dated the sorority girls. They were going to be the next Senators, Presidents, and CEOs. That’s what Lucky wanted to be part of in 1978. Even drunk, Lucky’s ambition chugged ahead.

At first, Lucky’s friend Amy protested to her. “But we told our parents…” was the plea of her more straight-laced friend. Lucky pointed out that the sorority house and dorms were not that far apart, and she’d definitely be back to the dorm early in the morning. Amy and Kim had some luck with a couple of guys anyway, so they weren’t going to guilt Lucky too hard. In fact, Lucky encouraged Amy to stay with the handsome Freshman guy. Kim obligingly assured Lucky she’d “cover” for her anyway. It was college, after all, and no big deal. Besides — Lucky was staying with girls at the house, not boys.

So leaving her two friends to go their own ways, Lucky went with KC and a few sorority sisters back to their house that Saturday night around midnight (Sunday morning). It was no big deal to come in late, since the sorority house wasn’t near the dorms. But they did have house rules, and this included “NO BOYS” after curfew/lights out time.

The large, two-story sorority house was on the patrol list for the cops, and the girls warned Lucky — once inside, they had to stay there until morning. But all laughed when KC told them that on weekend nights the back doors at the house “magically” had the lock left open “in case” boys might want to sneak in — or make a quick exit at sunrise.

That was all fine with Lucky, who was having enough trouble even navigating the stairs inside to the second floor. She was just happy to be there with the older girls. They all had too much to drink, and tried to keep quiet and not attract attention. Act sober, they all said with laughs. Lucky felt proud to be included with the older popular girls. She went with KC from the Rec room, back to her room, and listened to the music while the room spun around them. They began talking about boys and sex, and one thing led to another; which led to a kiss.

Lucky ended up in the same bed with KC and experimenting with her first sexual experience with another girl. For a conservative, mature girl who barely had any experiences with boys — it was very exciting to her. It felt like one more step up into the world of the “college lady”. She felt sophisticated and mature, while doing something that good Southern girls just didn’t do. (Or rather at least didn’t admit to doing back in the 70s).

But this was with KC — the queen of their school back home! She was the hottest, richest, and most popular girl back home! So if KC did it — Lucky was happy to go along. Besides, she felt it was nice. Better than with those boys and their hands and arms all over them so rough and brutal. She relaxed and let herself go and enjoy being a “college lady”.

After a few hours, both of them kind of passed out. Lucky said she felt queasy, probably from the alcohol — or maybe from some repressed shame inside of her somewhere. She tried to keep quiet when she snuck down the hall to the restroom, and not wake any of the sisters. She splashed cold water on her face trying to feel normal again. She just kept thinking: “How much DID I drink?”. When she finished, she came out of the bathroom, her head still spinning and wobbly on her own long legs.

She wasn’t sure of anything really, other than being too drunk. Still she was making her way back down the hall to KC’s room. That was when she saw him — even if only briefly. He was a hunk, and had hair like John Travolta.

He was a handsome, dark-haired young man going into one of the other girls’ rooms. Lucky recalled feeling embarrassed; as she only had on a t-shirt, and she covered herself modestly. She was sure the guy didn’t see her — and figured he’d not rat her out because boys weren’t allowed there after lights out. So he’d be in more trouble than her for being drunk. Those college men sure were sneaky. She tried to remind herself to quiz KC about her sorority sisters’ trysts in the morning. Honestly, she was still too buzzed to really care.

When Lucky got back to the room, KC was passed out cold.

You could’ve honked a car horn at her head and not woke her up. Lucky just turned the radio up a notch, and made herself comfy in the other bed. She felt a little guilty about her sexual exploration, but more guilty about getting so drunk. She admitted she’d probably like college, and smiled as she realized how silly she felt.

The last thing she recalled was the sound of one of the other girls down the hall obviously having some hot sex with her moans — and thinking “She’s just asking to get busted”. Lucky smiled again, and drifted off to sleep to the sound of the music on the radio.

That was the night of Saturday, January the 14th — and the early morning hours of Sunday, January 15th — in 1978. In the Chi Omega sorority house at Florida State University, in Tallahassee, Florida.

The same night and place Ted Bundy raped and killed two women, and savagely attacked two more; all in that same house while Lucky and KC slept down the hall. Beginning around 3:00am, all four attacks began and ended within 15 to 20 minutes; all happened with over 30 witnesses there in that same house; and all with incomprehensible brutality.

The handsome man Lucky had seen in the hallway, with the Travolta hair — as she drunkenly wobbled back to KC’s room — was Ted Bundy.

Wearing nothing but her night shirt; drunk; with her long dark hair parted down the middle. With her friend passed out cold drunk in the room. Either one of them, or both of them, easily could’ve been his victims that night. Even if he had noticed that Lucky had only partially seen him — he likely would’ve killed her too just for what she may have seen. Even worse was that most likely the sounds that made Lucky smile were not the sounds of a college girl reaching orgasmic bliss in a room down the hall. Instead, these were the sounds of Ted Bundy beating and raping and destroying an innocent life as he claimed another helpless victim.

In a panic, Lucky and KC blended in with the other girls the next day. They gave their stories consistent with the other girls. They didn’t mention anything about partying, drinking, and certainly not their sexual experimenting in a lesbian romp. Especially with a 20 year-old sorority sister from a wealthy family; and a 17 year-old minor from a distinguished family. No matter how soon she’d turn 18; or how liberated colleges were. In 1978, Florida was still a conservative Southern place and scandal traveled fast. Lucky and KC both stuck to their stories, and said nothing of seeing anything.

Amy and Kim agreed with Lucky to keep to the same story about all three staying in the dorm that night. After all, they were safe and why bother their folks when nothing happened to them. Lucky was indeed lucky that night. She’d told Amy and Kim that she’d passed out in KC’s roommate’s bed, no boys, and slept through everything until the cops and sorority sisters woke them all up. Under no circumstances would they ever tell their families or anyone about Lucky being in that house that night. A promise they had all kept since 1978.

When Lucky called her parents from Tallahassee, they were hysterical. So relieved — and wasn’t it a good thing Lucky stayed in the dorm with Kim? Their families were so proud that their angels didn’t drink, party, smoke dope, or act like those wild hippie kids with their grass and homosexuality and rock music! Lucky was just glad to agree with her parents, bury the memories, and head back home driving south towards the Tampa area.

But it was a long trip, with lots of time to think and to talk with Amy. Lucky had a fit of guilt and anger about the entire ordeal. She was ready to call the cops and tell them what she had seen and give a full description — even if they’d grilled her about her being drunk and partying; and even if it led to admitting to her sexual encounter with another girl.

For a teenage girl in a conservative family, this was a heavy thought. But heavier was the chance the demon would get away. But Lucky didn’t have to explain anything. Because while watching the news at a truck stop diner on the way driving home, Lucky caught a lucky break for her conscience. She found out that another girl had seen the intruder coming down the stairs, and gave the cops a full description and sketch artist ID.

Lucky didn’t have to reveal anything after all. Lucky knew how lucky she really was. She never told her family anything about that night, especially about what she was really doing or what she had witnessed. She did her best to forget it.

Unfortunately, for someone so enamored with the news and current events — it would never go away. Every anniversary. Every time a true crime show would come on, or tabloid report popped up — they’d show photos. Those poor girls became more than victims. They became more than images and blood. They became her — but for the grace of God go I, she thought. Call it survivor’s guilt, or any number of things. But from that January night in 1978 it would haunt her, and eventually drive her insane.

As years passed, Lucky did her best to forget and shield her memories. She only confided in one man for many years, the truth (while leaving details about her tryst out of the story). Lucky really wanted to go to Florida State, and got accepted there. But she just could not reconcile the haunting nightmare with the person she wanted to become. So she went to University of Florida in Gainesville instead.

She got married a few years after graduating college, and began a great career as a television newscaster and reporter in Florida. She worked in different cities, at different affiliates, and pushed the glass ceiling hard for equality and respect for women in the news media. Everywhere she worked, in every city in Florida, she never was afraid of the tough stories. Except when it came to anything about Ted Bundy. Finally, she had to give in and do a piece about Bundy — after all it was Florida news. From that time forward, she began having nightmares.

Lucky got a national job at a national news network in 1990, and at one of the three big networks a few years later. She was not only a top-notch reporter on air, but quickly rose to being an anchor for the network’s secondary news programs and off-prime news shows. Lucky found herself in the heart of power as a correspondent for the network news — the place she’d always dreamed of being “important” and reporting on important events and people.

She won Emmys; news awards; and became an important figure with many charities and organizations. She won the coveted awards for her reporting, and broke major stories. For over 20 years she became a major player in national news coverage.

But all the while, Lucky was haunted.

She was haunted by actual nightmares; seeing herself as one of Bundy’s victims. Hearing the screams and moans of victims. Seeing the blood and destruction inside that sorority house that morning. Most of all, she would see Ted Bundy walking down hallways and creeping into rooms. Even in her own house, late at night, she’d scream and her husband would have to talk her out of panic attacks as she’d lay curled into a ball in a hall doorway at home.

Her paranoia got worse, and worse. Even after Bundy’s execution — long after, she’d think he was following her and was going to kill her and rape her corpse because she could identify him. She knew it was irrational; she knew it was not sane. But just as real were the fears and images flashing through her mind. She screened her calls; and began to accuse innocent people of spying on her. She was sure her emails were tapped as were her phones. She spent two days watching video CCTV footage from around her house outside — certain someone was lurking there. She spent tens of thousands on pro-level security.

Lucky finally agreed to get help, after her bosses and her husband gave her ultimatums. She tried medication; talk therapy; everything. But nothing had much effect. Sure, the paranoid delusions would settle for a while — and she’d be fine. But then a Bundy story or other trigger would set her off again on a new round of crazy.

It all finally came to a head one night when she answered a phone from a robo-caller offering her information about some quackery supplement to government poisonings. If she took that magic herb, she’d be safe from the government who poisoned the food (and cancer and chemtrails and who knows what else quackery). Sadly, she believed it all. Lucky began a campaign against the government for poisoning people. Then she began a campaign against her media colleagues for covering up truth.

All the while, she’d stop taking her own meds and was spending day after night wide awake peeking out of the blinds. Certain the government was eavesdropping and spying on her; claiming they were going to kill her for all the things she claimed she knew. It grew to epic proportions and she began wasting millions of dollars on her crusades, lawsuits, and paranoia.

Her poor husband and family have done all they can to help her. She’ll be fine for a week or three — then it creeps back in and the cycles repeats. Worst of all, for her, is that all the dreams she had all of her life — and all the hard work she’s done to get there — have all been flushed away by her mental illnesses. She’s lost several jobs that she spent her life chasing. Sadly, she’s not necessarily been 100% wrong in all of her accusations. But she mixes in so much crazy, unsubstantiated and outright urban-legend-level nonsense that the real things she’s crusaded against have gotten lost. Along with any shred of credibility she may have had with which to expose many things of legitimate concern.

Her husband has tried in vain to help her, and because of his love for her he still hangs on. Many doctors have tried and have had success — but only when she’s willing to cooperate and help herself. Her own managers/attorneys have done the same, fighting to get her jobs — any jobs — while trying to get her healthy and stable enough to work. Her most recent lawyer has refused any commission from her, only wanting to help her out and return to a stable state of mind and to heal from her demons.

And still, the nightmares come in waves. Still she sees and hears the things haunting her. And still, she has not fully come to grips with all of it in the past — or taken steps to rebuild her future. She continues down her downward spiral, trying to keep her outside appearances like a shell or suit of armor declaring “everything is fine” and good with her. While inside, she’s in a raging storm of paranoid delusion of mental illness.

It would seem that on that January night in 1978, in a Florida sorority house — Ted Bundy did more than just attack four innocent young women under the same roof. He certainly scarred the lives of all the other who were there that night, and the ripple effects continue through each of their lives to this very day.

Sadly, in many ways, a young lady who was once “Lucky” — has become another victim of Ted Bundy’s horrific deeds. Those who survived Bundy’s attacks will never shake free of his evil; nor the damage he inflicted. Hopefully, this one can find the strength to overpower him, and his memories, and to defeat him and triumph by sheer will. Doing so would definitely make her the most “Lucky” of all.

THE END

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