The Kidnap Years: by David Stout (if you give a mouse a cookie read aloud TXT) 📕

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

DEVIL AT THE DOOR

Tacoma, Washington

Saturday, December 27, 1936

The glow of Christmas still filled the home of Dr. William W. Mattson and his wife, Hazel. They were away at a holiday party, sure that their children were safe in their house. How could they not be? Dr. Mattson was one of Tacoma’s best known surgeons, and the family lived in an exclusive neighborhood overlooking Commencement Bay.

It was shortly before 9:00 p.m. and the Mattson children—William Jr., sixteen; Muriel, fourteen; and Charles, ten—were enjoying root beer and popcorn in the sun porch that adjoined the living room. With them was Muriel’s friend Virginia Chatsfield, fifteen, from Seattle.

William Mattson and his wife had decorated three large pine trees for the season. The trees stood where their lights lit up the porch and living room. There were decorations in the windows too. The Christmas lights bathed the spacious lawn outside.

All in all, it was the kind of evening that creates memories for a lifetime, of home and hearth and childhood friendships. Then everything changed, suddenly and forever.

Someone knocked loudly on the French doors that led onto a terrace at the back of the house. Charles went to investigate, then ran back to the others, saying that he had seen a man wearing a mask standing in the courtyard.

The pounding on the door resumed. The man muttered gibberish, but the children could tell he wanted to come inside. Then he smashed some glass panes, reached in to unlatch the door, and stepped in. It was impossible to reconstruct exactly what the intruder did and said, since the only witnesses were terrified children, but in their collective recollection this is about how things unfolded:

“Don’t you kids try to start anything, because I have a bullet-proof vest on,” the intruder said. Then he said something that seemed to make no sense: “I’ve put a lot of money into this house and I want to get some of it back.”176

William Jr. told the intruder it was not his parents’ habit to keep large sums in the house. The man searched William’s pockets, finding nothing. Then he looked at Charles. “I want you to come with me right away. You’re worth money.” The invader dropped a piece of paper on the floor, grabbed Charles by the arm, dragged him through the rear door, and warned the other children not to call the police, or he would come back and kill them. Then he was gone with his young captive.

William Jr. called the police, who were at the house within minutes, then called his parents. The kidnapper’s mask had slipped partly off, and the children were able to describe him: dark hair, brown eyes, unshaven. He was about five feet seven and of medium build, maybe thirty-five to forty, wearing a dark-blue jacket and dark work trousers. Charles was wearing blue knickers, a gray sweater, and slippers.

Investigators discounted the possibility that the kidnapper had come and gone by boat, as the night of the abduction coincided with one of the lowest tides of the year.

The piece of paper left by the kidnapper was a ransom note, folded and appearing to have been carried in a pocket for some time. It demanded $28,000 in various denominations and in old bills. The family was instructed to place an ad in the Seattle Times (“Mabel—Please give us your address”) to signal a willingness to cooperate. If the ad were not placed, the ransom demand would double, then double again, the note warned. “Dont fail & I wontt. The boy is safe. Tim.”177

The note had been typed in an ink of unusual color, perhaps from a child’s typewriter. How had the kidnapper (kidnappers?) arrived at the figure of $28,000? And why was the note not addressed specifically to the Mattson family? Perhaps, detectives theorized, the kidnapper had carried it in a pocket until he zeroed in on a target. There were several well-to-do families among the Mattsons’ neighbors.

Hoover immediately sent nine agents to Tacoma to assist local police on the theory that the Lindbergh Law had been violated. Within a week, some forty more agents would be dispatched to Tacoma, led by FBI assistant director Harold Nathan.

The kidnapping was, of course, a sensational crime, made more so by the disgraceful behavior of newspaper reporters and photographers, newsreel cameramen, and radio reporters. Members of the Mattson family were followed, making it impossible for Mattson to deal directly with whoever had taken his son. Every new tidbit of “news,” true or otherwise, was printed and broadcast.

Meanwhile, the police and FBI agents were staying more or less on the sidelines, giving Mattson every chance to negotiate privately with the kidnappers.

The situation became more chaotic. Other messages were sent to the Mattson home, apparently from people hoping to insinuate themselves into the negotiations and hijack the ransom money. On Tuesday, December 29, a special delivery letter arrived at the home. It declared that anyone could deliver the ransom money, once arrangements were made, as long as the courier was alone and driving a Ford. The letter was signed “Tim.”

The Mattson family ran more newspaper ads, trying to convey the message that the way was clear for a deal and that lawmen were standing down, pending safe return of Charles.

Again, Mattson went public with a plea to the news media, practically begging reporters and photographers to stop following him and stop reporting supposedly “inside” information.

The first week of 1937 brought cold and snow to the Puget Sound region. Members of the Mattson family were sick with worry, as Charles had not been wearing outdoor clothing when he was spirited away.

Most alarmingly, Mattson had been in direct contact, by phone and letter, with the kidnapper but had found his responses increasingly confusing and contradictory. What in God’s name did he have to do to get his son back? The only man who could answer Mattson’s questions seemed nearly incoherent.

On Sunday, January 10, and Monday, January 11, the Mattsons ran one last ad