SIGHTINGS


 
Identification Of Body May
Offer Clues In Atheist
O'Hair Case
By John MacCormack
Express-News Staff Writer
© 1999 San Antonio Express-News
2-1-99
 
In life, Danny Fry, a Florida con man who came to Texas in 1995 looking for a big score, may have played a role in one of the century's most baffling celebrity disappearances.
 
In death, he may lead authorities to missing atheist Madalyn Murray O'Hair, who vanished from San Antonio in late September 1995 with her two adult children and $500,000 in gold coins.
 
Fry spent that month in San Antonio and disappeared the same weekend as the O'Hair family.
 
As an enduring mystery, the O'Hair case ranks with those of Teamster boss Jimmy Hoffa and aviator Amelia Earhart, neither of whom was found despite decades of sleuthing.
 
Although the O'Hairs' fate remains an enigma, Fry's has become chillingly clear.
 
Genetic testing completed last week has determined a nude and mutilated body that was dumped Oct. 2, 1995, in southeastern Dallas County was the missing Florida man.
 
"It certainly was a cocky bastard who did this. The way they laid him out was like, 'Come and find us,' " said Robert Bjorklund, a Dallas County sheriff's detective who has worked the case since the body was found.
 
The corpse, minus crudely amputated head and hands, was found that 1995 fall afternoon by a man collecting aluminum cans on a trash-strewn riverbank near Seagoville.
 
The body was placed chest-up, legs neatly together and arms splayed.
 
"Why didn't they dump him in the water? It would have been a whole lot harder to find," mused Bjorklund, who reviewed more than 200 missing-person cases in an effort to identify the headless man.
 
But without tattoos, scars, dental records or fingerprints, police were stumped.
 
The search ended when DNA tests, using blood obtained from Fry's brother, ex-wife and son at the suggestion of the San Antonio Express-News, matched a genetic sample taken before the headless corpse went to a pauper's grave.
 
"It is confirmed that our homicide victim is Danny Fry. The probability . . . is 99.99 percent," Bjorklund said after receiving test results from the Dallas County medical examiner's office.
 
Detectives think Fry, 42, was murdered earlier than Oct. 2, 1995, somewhere else and by unknown means. The body held few clues, and Fry's clothing, head and hands have not been found.
 
For Dallas investigators, the hunt for his killers now begins.
 
The evidence they have divulged is sparse: some blue fiber on the body, witness accounts of a white luxury car leaving the scene and a footprint on the riverbank.
 
The trail, however, is likely to heat up quickly as it leads south to Austin and San Antonio, where Fry spent the final months of his life.
 
Success in the Fry investigation also could break loose the logjammed O'Hair case, which, despite the dogged efforts of private investigators and reporters, remains unsolved.
 
While tantalizing clues abound, proof remains elusive. A three-year global search for America's most famous nonbeliever has yielded little more than rumors and speculation.
 
Murdered for gold?
 
Some believe O'Hair, her son Jon Garth Murray and daughter, Robin, were murdered for the gold they bought in late September 1995, using $600,000 wired from an account maintained in New Zealand by an atheist organization.
 
"I think my mother was kidnapped, Robin was taken along to take care of her, and my brother was run like a wet mule in order to get the kidnap money together. I absolutely believe that is what happened," said Bill Murray, O'Hair's other son.
 
"Jon saw himself as the absolute worshipper and protector of his mother. I think he had his back up against the wall. I think he really thought that, if he played ball with these guys and got them the money, he'd save his mother," he said.
 
Others think the three atheists activated a long-planned getaway scheme and now are living in foreign exile, sustained by funds skimmed over the years from their organizations.
 
At the time of her sudden disappearance, Madalyn Murray O'Hair, 76, was a sick woman, suffering from diabetes and heart trouble, whose role in national atheist affairs had become marginal.
 
It was a long slide from her prominence decades ago during the legal battles over Bible reading and prayer in public schools, and the Supreme Court decisions in the early 1960s that banned them.
 
O'Hair, who once proclaimed herself "the most hated woman in America," relished conflict with the believers of any rank or stripe, from the local Baptist preacher to the pope.
 
"Religion is the most monstrous idea in the world. It must be killed without quarter along with fascism, racism, sexism, war and slavery. All those ideas are nuts, and mankind must get over them," she wrote in 1979, capturing her own combative, irreverent personality.
 
By 1995, however, after decades of fighting what she called "the Christers" and raising money to keep her atheist organizations afloat, O'Hair was pondering a way out.
 
Overseas retirement
 
It was an open secret within inner circles that the three O'Hairs, who ran the nonprofit organizations like family businesses, were considering a joint retirement, perhaps overseas.
 
But no one was prepared for the dramatic events that unfolded in 1995 when, in late August, the O'Hairs abruptly abandoned their comfortable Austin home.
 
In their hasty departure, they left behind their three beloved dogs, unattended, Madalyn's diabetes medication and a note telling atheist staffers the office was closed.
 
But the three soon resurfaced in San Antonio, where they kept in intermittent phone contact with anxious atheist officials for about a month and then vanished for good.
 
Austin police, who are unconvinced any crime occurred, have handled the O'Hair disappearance like a routine missing person's case.
 
"It's still an open case. Nothing indicates foul play. I feel they have left on their own accord, and they have that right to come and go as they please," said Sgt. Steve Baker, who had the case until late last year.
 
"I believe they just took off, it was a planned departure," he said.
 
Baker said police did interview David Waters, an Austin ex-con who knew Fry and had worked as office manager of O'Hair's atheist organizations in Austin in 1993. But Baker said investigators learned little.
 
Waters, 48, has convictions for murder, forgery, battery and theft.
 
The last one came in 1995 after he admitted stealing $54,000 from the O'Hair organizations. Now on probation, Waters is making monthly restitution payments.
 
Like the Austin police, Waters thinks the O'Hairs took the money and ran, and he denies any knowledge of their fate.
 
"I am in no way connected with their disappearance, demise, relocation to a sunny clime or anything else that has to do with them. The last time I saw them was about a year before they decided to make this little move," Waters said in an interview last fall.
 
"Everyone seems to think it was sudden," he said of their disappearance. "In fact, it was an ongoing process, and I know that it can be verified with well-documented evidence, this unannounced relocation to parts unknown."
 
Waters said he has internal atheist documents that prove the family absconded. But he withdrew an offer to share them with the press.
 
He also said he doesn't have any knowledge of Fry's disappearance and murder and recalls only a passing encounter with him in 1995.
 
The two men had worked together in Florida a few years earlier, and Waters said they became reacquainted when Fry called that summer asking about work in Austin.
 
"Dan contacted me. I did tell him if he was interested in getting ahead, Austin was hot. I said the unemployment rate is 3.2 percent. If you want to get something going, this is the place to be," Waters recalled.
 
Waters said he put his old buddy up briefly in his apartment on Austin's Lamar Boulevard sometime in 1995.
 
"He stayed here a couple of weeks," Waters said of Fry. "I know he was having some personal problems. I got the impression he was trying to get away from things for a while."
 
'Ripping and running'
 
Waters said Fry stayed in Austin a little while, drinking and gambling, and, after no job materialized, moved on, never to surface again.
 
"He was ripping and running. He had his own group of friends. The last time I saw him was with a guy he was running around with. It was in Austin," he said.
 
Fry's relatives confirm Fry was a heavy drinker and a big talker when he had a few too many. And they say he wasn't too particular about how he made his money, as long as the payoff was good.
 
But they say Fry never would have come to Texas just to look for work in the Austin classified advertisements.
 
"My dad was the type where there had to be some money to be made to go to Texas, and Waters was the only person he knew there," said Fry's son, D.J.
 
Instead, they say, it was Waters who induced Fry to leave Florida that summer with promises of big money. It was a deal Fry never wanted to discuss.
 
"We took him to the (Tampa) airport. He was going up there to work with a friend, David Waters," recalled Fry's daughter, Lisa.
 
"He told me it was a big deal. He would never really say if it was something bad . . . He was kind of a con artist."
 
While in Texas, family members say, Fry sent back several thousand dollars, phoned home frequently but never talked about his work.
 
They dispute Waters' statement that his association with Fry was brief. Phone records indicate a longer and deeper relationship between the two men.
 
The 1995 phone bills, provided by Fry family members, track an association that began in the spring and lasted nearly to Fry's death.
 
Fry's last recorded call was made from Waters' Austin apartment at 2:47 p.m. Sept. 30, 1995, when he called his daughter on a Saturday afternoon during her 16th birthday party in Florida.
 
Tense and short-spoken on the phone, Fry said his mysterious business in Texas was almost finished and he would be home soon, his daughter recalled.
 
"He just told me he'd be home the following Tuesday," Lisa Fry said.
 
But Fry never made it to Florida. Instead, roughly 48 hours later, his butchered corpse was discovered among the garbage, ants and poison ivy on the bank of the Trinity River.
 
The records show this was just the last of many calls to home Fry made from Waters' apartment that summer and fall.
 
In August alone, 51 calls from the apartment to Fry's home appear on Fry's MCI phone bill. The records show regular calls from Florida to the apartment, buttressing the claims of relatives who say they contacted Fry there.
 
The records also indicate contact between the two men had begun many months before, at least as early as May 1995, and intensified as the summer progressed.
 
A call from Fry's Florida home to Waters' apartment June 12, 1995, lasted 46 minutes. Another on June 22 was for 25 minutes, and on July 21, shortly before Fry flew to Texas, there was an 87-minute call.
 
The phone records show, beginning in late August 1995, after spending a month in Austin, Fry moved south and began making calls from pay phones in Northwest San Antonio.
 
Included were several calls from a pay phone by the residents' laundry room at the Warren Inn, a budget motel on Fredericksburg Road just outside Loop 410. According to Fry's relatives, he told them he was staying there.
 
The records show several calls during September to Fry's home from Austin. The calls from San Antonio, however, ended late in the month when Fry apparently returned to Austin for the last time.
 
On Sept. 30, 1995, he made two final calls from Waters' apartment before vanishing.
 
Waters also was familiar with that part of Northwest San Antonio.
 
Waters said, just a couple of years earlier, he had stayed at the Warren Inn with his longtime companion Patti Jo Steffens before moving to Austin and going to work for the O'Hairs.
 
White Cadillac
 
Motor vehicle records show Waters also was in San Antonio during September 1995. On Sept. 16, he bought a white 1990 Cadillac Eldorado, with tinted windows and blue interior, from a Terrell Hills couple, paying $13,000 in cash.
 
"I remarked at what a large stack of bills it was," said the seller, who asked not to be named.
 
Waters said he used personal savings to buy the car.
 
At that time, according to credit card records, Jon Murray was accumulating a lot of cash in San Antonio. In the two days before the Cadillac purchase, Murray charged $10,400 in cash advances.
 
On Sept. 14, 1995, Murray withdrew $3,000 from a bank in Alamo Heights. The next day, using a different credit card, he withdrew $7,400 from a bank on San Pedro Avenue.
 
The Cadillac purchase came 11 days after a different vehicle transaction was made that loomed significantly in the O'Hair disappearance.
 
On Sept. 5, someone impersonating Murray sold his 1988 Mercedes-Benz for $15,000 at the Warren Inn. The identity of the seller remains unknown.
 
Motor vehicle records show Waters had resold the white Cadillac by mid-February 1996.
 
When Fry failed to return to Florida in early October 1995 as he had promised, his fiancee, children and brother say they began calling Waters in Austin for information. But they said he was unhelpful.
 
"I spoke with him on the phone, and he denied any association with him. He said my father and him were just roommates, they had no work contacts. He said my dad was in his own world, doing his own thing," said Fry's son, D.J.
 
Waters said since he had no clue where Fry had gone, there was nothing he could do to help.
 
Trip to Florida
 
Fry's older brother Bob said Waters took a more active interest in the matter about a week after Danny Fry vanished.
 
Bob Fry said the events were triggered when he called Waters from Florida and mentioned a letter Danny had sent from Texas.
 
"The letter said that if he wasn't back by a certain date, that meant something serious had happened. I should contact the authorities and bring in Dave Waters name, that Dave Waters planned what we did," recalled Bob.
 
"I called Waters and told him about the letter. I had already destroyed it, but I just told him I had an unopened letter," Bob Fry recalled.
 
Bob Fry said things happened quickly after that.
 
"He said, 'Hold onto it. I'm sure he'll show up. I just talked to him the night before last from a bar in Dallas. He was drunk,' " Fry said.
 
By the next evening, Bob Fry said, Waters and a second man were on his doorstep in Florida, demanding the letter.
 
"They told me they were involved with something really heavy in Texas, and the people who planned it wanted them to get the letter back. And if they didn't, the people would come and get it, and they wouldn't be as nice," Bob Fry recalled.
 
Fry said the two men finally left after he convinced them the letter already was destroyed. But, he said, their words lingered.
 
"One thing Waters said keeps haunting me. He said, 'Your brother drinks a lot. He's got a big mouth,' " recalled Bob Fry.
 
Informed last week of Bob Fry's account, Waters said it did not occur.
 
"I have no idea of what you're talking about," he said.





SIGHTINGS HOMEPAGE