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Gary Steven
KRIST
Classification: Murderer ?
Characteristics:
Kidnapping
Number of victims: 0 - 4
Date of murders: 1959 - 1967
Date
of arrest:March 5,
1969
Date of birth:
April 29,
1945
Victims profile: Confessed
slayer of two gay men, one girl, and an unidentified
victim
Method of murder:
???
Location: Alaska/California/Utah/Georgia, USA
Status:
Never charged with murder. Sentenced to life imprisonment for kidnapping in Georgia, 1969. Paroled May 14, 1979. Sentenced to
five years by drug smuggling on January 19, 2007
Gary Steven Krist
(born April 29, 1945) lived part of his childhood in
Utah. His first recorded crime was a string of robberies
at the age of 14.
He is most well known for kidnapping
and burying heiress Barbara Jane Mackle alive in a
ventilated box in 1968. After receiving $500,000 in
ransom money, he was captured and sentenced to life in
prison.
He was paroled after serving ten
years. Krist was granted a pardon so that he could
become a doctor. He practiced medicine in rural Indiana
before his license was revoked in 2003 as a result of
lying about disciplinary action received during his
residency.
Around early March in 2006, Gary was
arrested by authorities in Mobile Bay, Alabama, for
running a cocaine operation in Barrow County, Georgia,
valued at around 1 million dollars. On May 16, 2006,
Krist pled guilty to drug smuggling and on January 19,
2007 was sentenced to more than five years in prison.
Barbara Jane Mackle
(born 1948) is an American heiress who was the victim of
a notorious crime. Her book about the ordeal was the
basis of two television movies.
The
crime
On December 17, 1968, Mackle – then a
20-year-old Emory University student – was staying at
the Rodeway Inn in Decatur, Georgia with her mother.
Mackle was sick with the Hong Kong flu, which had
severely struck the student body of Emory; her mother
had driven to the Atlanta area to take care of her
daughter and then drive her daughter back to the family
home in Coral Gables, Florida for the Christmas break.
A stranger, Gary Steven Krist,
knocked on the door, claimed to be with the police, and
told Mackle that Stewart Hunt Woodward had been in a
traffic accident. [Woodward is usually described as
Mackle's boyfriend or fiancé but in Mackle's written
account she calls him 'a good friend'.]
Once inside, Krist and his accomplice,
Ruth Eisemann-Schier (who was disguised as a man),
chloroformed, bound and gagged Mackle’s mother, then
forced Barbara Jane Mackle at gunpoint into the back of
their waiting car, informing her that she was being
kidnapped.
They drove her to a remote pine
forest off of South Berkeley Lake Road in Gwinnett
County near Duluth and buried Mackle in a fiberglass-reinforced
box. The box was outfitted with an air pump, a battery-powered
lamp, water laced with sedatives, and food. Two plastic
pipes provided Mackle with outside air.
Krist and Eisemann-Schier demanded,
and received, a $500,000 ransom from Mackle’s father,
Robert Mackle, a wealthy Florida land developer. The
first attempt at a ransom drop was disrupted when two
policemen drove by. The kidnappers fled on foot and the
FBI found their car, abandoned.
Inside the car, the authorities found,
not only documents giving Krist's and Eisemann-Schier's
names and former addresses, they also found a photograph
of Barbara Jane Mackle in the box holding a sign that
read "Kidnapped." The second ransom drop was successful.
On December 20, Krist called and gave
an FBI switchboard operator vague directions to Mackle’s
burial place. The FBI set up their base in Lawrenceville,
Gwinnett’s county seat, and more than 100 agents spread
out through the area in an attempt to find her, digging
the ground with their hands and anything they could find
to use. Mackle was rescued alive and unharmed, though
she was dehydrated. She had spent over three days
underground.
The
punishment
Krist was soon arrested off the coast
of Florida in a speedboat bought with part of the ransom
money. Eisemann-Schier was arrested 79 days later. (She
has the distinction of being the first woman on the
FBI's ten most wanted list.) She was convicted and
sentenced to seven years in prison, paroled after
serving four years and deported to her native Honduras.
She currently lives in Honduras, where she is married to
Salvatore Randazzo and has 4 children.
Krist was convicted and sentenced to
life in prison in 1969, but was released on parole after
ten years. Krist received a pardon to allow him to
attend medical school. He practiced medicine in Indiana
before his license was revoked in 2003 as a result of
lying about disciplinary action received during his
residency.
In March of 2006 Krist was arrested (along
with his stepson) on a sailboat off the coast of Alabama
with over 38 pounds of cocaine, reportedly worth about
$1 million, in his possession.
After his arrest, Barrow
County, Georgia police found an underground drug lab for
processing cocaine buried beneath a shed on his property.
(Barrow is adjacent to the county where Krist buried
Mackle.) On May 16, 2006 he pled guilty to drug
smuggling and on January 19, 2007 he was sentenced to
more than five years in prison.
The
books and movies
Mackle wrote a book (with Miami
Herald reporter Gene Miller) about her experience: 83
Hours ‘Til Dawn, published in 1971. ABC aired the
story in 1972 as part of its ABC Movie of the Week
showcase under the title The Longest Night.
However due to litigation surrounding the rights to the
story, the movie was never aired again, even though the
court decision was later overturned. The book was made
into a second television movie, 83 Hours 'Til Dawn
in 1990. Krist also wrote a book, Life: The Man Who
Kidnapped Barbara Jane Mackle, published in 1972 (ISBN
0-7004-0100-8).
Mackle's
current life
Mackle went on to marry Woodward and
have two children. At last report she was living in
Florida. She declines all requests for interviews.
Wikipedia.org
Gary Krist launched his criminal career at age fourteen, with the theft of a boat. A year later he stole a car, and at sixteen he was committed to the Utah State Industrial School, at Ogden, for a year. Krist entered confinement on June 2, 1961, but soon escaped; he was recaptured in Idaho on July 29, 1961.
At age eighteen, he was sentenced to the state vocational school at Tracy, California, on conviction for two auto thefts in the vicinity of Oakland. Released on December 4, 1964, he was next arrested on January 6, 1966, after stealing two cars from a sales lot in San Mateo, California.
Convicted of auto theft on May 20, 1966, he drew a term of six months to five years in state prison. Krist escaped from custody on November 11, 1966, and was still at large two years later, when he graduated to the big time.
On December 17, 1968, 20-year-old Barbara Jane Mackle, a student at Emory College in Atlanta, was spending the night with her mother in a suburban motel. Recovering from influenza, Barbara had left her dormitory in consideration of her roommates, and her mother had flown in from Florida to nurse her through the illness. While the treatment might have seemed extravagant, it fit the Mackle lifestyle; Barbara's father was a millionaire land developer and personal friend of President-elect Richard Nixon.
The women weren't expecting visitors that morning, in the pre-dawn hours, when Krist and female accomplice Ruth Eisemann-Schier forced their way into the room at gunpoint. Barbara's mother, bound and chloroformed, was left behind; the ailing girl was driven twenty miles northeast of town and buried in a box that had been fitted with an air pump, food and water, and a battery-powered lamp.
Their dirty work complete, the kidnappers drove back to Florida, waiting for the news to break. A ransom note, buried in the Mackles' front yard at Coral Gables, Florida, demanded $500,000 ransom in old $20 bills. The family followed orders, running a specified ad in a Miami newspaper on December 18, waiting nervously for instructions on the ransom's delivery.
The drop was arranged for December 19, on a causeway leading to uninhabited Fair Isle, in Biscayne Bay. Losing his way in the darkness, Robert Mackle arrived an hour late at the drop point, but Krist confirmed the pay-off via telephone, circling back to pick up the suitcase. He barely had the bag in hand, when a policeman on routine patrol mistook Krist for a burglar, giving chase.
The kidnapper escaped on foot, but clues from his abandoned vehicle identified both suspects for the FBI. At half-past midnight on December 20, a phone call to the Bureau's office in Atlanta gave directions to the site where Barbara Mackle had been buried.
Exhumed after 83 hours, she was found alive and well. Arrest warrants for Gary Krist and Ruth Eisemann-Schier were issued the same day, and their names were simultaneously added to the "Ten Most Wanted" list. In flight, Krist had used some of the ransom money to purchase a boat, planning to escape by water. A Coast Guard helicopter spoiled his plan, trailing him until Krist abandoned his craft on Hog Island, in Charleston Harbor. Captured by Sheriff Richard McLeod on December 22, the fugitive was held in lieu of $500,000 bail.
On January 3, Krist and his accomplice were indicted on state charges of kidnapping with ransom, a capital crime in Georgia. In custody, awaiting trial, Krist startled jailers with confessions to a string of previously unsolved murders. According to the prisoner, his first victim was a 65-year-old hermit, with whom Krist had a homosexual relationship at age fourteen, while living in Pelican, Alaska.
He had killed the man, Krist said, by tripping him while they were walking on a bridge across a deep ravine. Investigators verified a case, identical to Krist's description, that had previously been described as death by accident. At nineteen, Krist asserted, he had killed a girl near San Diego, strangling and beating her to death, concealing her body under a pile of rocks.
Local officers confirmed the discovery of Helen Crow's body on October 3, 1964, with a coroner's estimate of death occurring six to eight weeks earlier. At that time, Krist was under lock and key at Tracy, California; his knowledge of the graphic details in the case remains a mystery. A third homicide, reported by Krist, was committed in 1961, shortly after his escape from confinement in Utah.
According to Gary's confession, he picked up a homosexual, described as a "sissy," and later killed his victim in a violent fit of rage. The body had been dumped near Wendover, Utah, where local officers confirmed discovery of a skeleton on July 27, 1967.
The coroner's vague estimate of death, some three to five years earlier, roughly corresponds with Krist's period of freedom from custody. Despite allusions to a fourth murder, Krist refrained from offering any details. Convicted of kidnapping on May 26, 1969, he was sentenced to a term of life imprisonment in Georgia. At this writing, there are no plans to prosecute murder charges in Utah or Alaska.
Michael Newton - An Encyclopedia of Modern Serial
Killers - Hunting Humans
Gary Krist: The Einstein of Crime
By David Krajicek -
TruTV.com
The Criminal Brain
Gary
Steven Krist regards himself as the
Einstein of crime.
But Albert Einstein,
with his measly theory of relativity,
was a one-trick pony by comparison.
Krist's criminal
accomplishments are far more diverse—grand
theft auto, prison escape, fraud,
kidnapping for ransom and, most recently,
cocaine importation and illegal
immigrant smuggling.
He began by stealing
cars before he could legally drive them.
He had been incarcerated in three
different states by age 18. He broke out
of prison in California and fled across
the country, where he managed to live
under a pseudonym while working at two
prestigious universities.
Next came his magnum
opus, the "perfect crime" he planned
while still a callow stripling.
In one of the most
audacious and notorious crimes of the
1960s, at age 23, he kidnapped a young
heiress in Atlanta and buried her alive
in an underground capsule he had
designed.
While the country
held its breath, Krist and his mistress
sidekick extracted a $500,000 ransom
from the woman's father, a Florida real
estate magnate and friend of President
Nixon.
Miraculously, the
young woman survived a harrowing 83
hours underground.
But Krist wasn't as
clever as he thought.
His getaway plan
collapsed, and he was apprehended after
a dragnet pinned him down on a Florida
mangrove island.
Krist narrowly
escaped a death sentence and was sent
away to prison — "for life," according
to the judge's decree.
But life was short in
those days.
Krist pulled one of
the great flimflams in American prison
history by convincing a gullible Georgia
parole official that he was
rehabilitated.
Vowing to become a
missionary, Krist waltzed out of prison
after barely 10 years of confinement for
a sickening crime that could have cost
him his life.
His missionary work
didn't pan out. Although it took awhile,
Krist's path inevitably led back to
crime.
In the spring of
2006, a police greeting party was
waiting at a dock near Mobile, Ala.,
when Krist returned from a two-month
trip aboard a rented sailboat.
Authorities found 38
pounds of cocaine on board, as well as
four illegal South Americans who had
paid handsomely for passage to the
United States.
An investigation
revealed that he had been selling the
cocaine in Georgia—the state that
naively gave him the free pass out of
prison years ago. And in an eerie echo
from the kidnapping case, Krist had
constructed an underground cocaine-processing
lab at his home near Auburn, Ga.
Now 61, he has
pleaded guilty to multiple federal
offenses and faces another life sentence.
His next departure from prison may be in
a pine box.
Gary Krist lacked
education, family direction, motivation,
money and a moral compass.
But he never lacked
self-confidence. His over-the-top ego is
one of the factors that makes the life
story of the "Einstein of crime" so
captivating.
Imperfect Childhood
Gary
Krist was born April 29,
1945, to a fishing
family. His father,
James, ran a boat out of
Pelican, Alaska, a
scruffy little port
village—accessible only
by sea or air—about 80
miles north of Sitka.
During the long salmon
and shrimping seasons,
the sea consumed the
lives of Krist's parents,
so Gary and his older
brother, Gordon, spent
vast stretches of their
childhoods in the care
of family friends.
He
was a miserable boy. His
father was aloof and his
mother distracted even
when they weren't out to
sea.
Trouble visited early.
By
age 9, Krist had a
reputation as an
incorrigible thief. He
would steal anything—coins,
tools, penny candy—even
if he didn't need it.
Perhaps he yearned for
attention.
He
eventually graduated to
stealing cars. At age
14, Krist was caught
filching a car in Seward,
Alaska. That state had
failed to reform the boy
in delinquent programs
there, so he was sent
away under federal
supervision to a
juvenile facility in
Ogden, Utah.
After
nearly a year there—including
a brief escape and a car
theft—he was allowed to
return to Alaska and
attend high school in
Sitka.
Krist
did well academically
during his two years
there. He was recognized
as a bright kid and a
quick study. After
graduation, he returned
to Ogden, hoping to
pursue a medical degree
at the University of
Utah.
It
was a pipe dream. He
didn't have the self-control
for college.
Out of Control
From
puberty
to young
adulthood,
Krist's
life was
a
dizzying
blur of
car
thefts
followed
by
inevitable
incarceration.
In
August
1963, a
few
weeks
before
college
classes
were to
begin,
he stole
an El
Camino
and fled
to
Oakland,
Calif.,
abandoning
a
pregnant
girlfriend
in Ogden.
After
just a
few days
in
California,
Krist
wrecked
a stolen
MG in
Ventura
and was
sent
away to
a state
juvenile
jail.
During
his 14
months
there,
Krist
spent
idle
hours
planning
his
magnum
opus
crime.
He
believed
that
most
kidnappings
failed
due to
poor
planning
and
execution.
He vowed
to do it
right.
Krist
decided
the
perfect
target
would be
a young
woman.
Children
are too
much of
a hassle,
he
reasoned,
and
abducting
a male
victim
could be
a
physical
challenge.
Holding
a victim
while
awaiting
ransom
can be
another
challenge.
Krist
conjured
a
solution:
Bury the
victim
alive in
a secure
tomb.
He
worked
out
dozens
of other
details—the
modes of
contact
with the
victim's
parents,
how and
when the
ransom
drop
would be
made,
getaway
plans
and
contingencies.
Krist,
still
just 18
years
old,
resolved
to bide
his time
and wait
for the
right
moment
to pull
off the
crime.
He was
freed on
Dec. 4,
1964,
and made
his way
to Palo
Alto,
where
his
brother
was
studying
at
Stanford
University.
In March
1965, he
married
Carmen
Simon, a
young
woman he
met at a
Redwood
City
rolling
skating
rink.
Within
weeks,
he was
back in
jail for
car
theft,
serving
a four-month
sentence.
Krist's
car
thievery
was
beyond
self-destructive.
It was
obsessive,
even
sociopathic.
He stole
cars
from
parking
lots,
from
driveways,
from car
dealerships.
If he
saw a
key in
an
ignition,
he
considered
it a
gift. He
had to
steal
that car—even
if he
had
nowhere
to drive
it, and
even
though
he knew
he would
get
caught
again.
He
couldn't
help
himself.
Krist
celebrated
his
first
wedding
anniversary
by
beginning
a five-year
prison
sentence
for auto
theft.
His son
Vince
was born
while he
was
locked
up.
But
after
just
eight
months,
Krist
got an
early
release
by
scaling
two
fences
at a
prison
in Tracy,
Calif.,
and
running
for his
life.
Back East
He fled with his wife and infant son to Boston, where he grew a beard to conceal his features and assumed a new identity as George Deacon.
He landed a $7,500-a-year job as a research assistant at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology by answering a want ad. For 18 months, he and Carmen led a conventional lifestyle—his fugitive status notwithstanding.
They lived in a trailer park in Norton, Mass., outside of Boston, and had a second son, Adam.
At work, Krist earned a reputation for picking up information quickly. He could read a basic primer on cryogenics or some other obscure facet of physics and manage to have intelligent discussions about the subject with MIT professors who had dedicated entire careers to the specialization.
But he could also be obnoxious, crowing about his stratospheric IQ or conjuring fantastic tales about his alleged accomplishments.
Conflicts arose that made Krist nervous about being discovered as an escaped felon. Through an MIT mentor, he moved on in the summer of 1968 to the University of Miami's Institute for Marine Research—still under the name George Deacon.
He and his family rented a mobile home at the Al-Ril Trailer Court on Northwest 14th Avenue in Miami.
At a salary of $8,500 a year, Krist became a marine technician on the institute's small fleet of research boats.
In September 1968, he was a boat hand on a two-week research trip to Bermuda by a group of graduate students. During the trip, he began an affair with Ruth Eisemann Schier, 26, a bright, petite and pretty grad student from Honduras. Her parents were Austrian Jews who fled to Central America to avoid Nazi persecution.
Krist, a burly 6-footer, towered over the 5-foot-2 Eisemann. But Eisemann, who was described as "sweet and charming," could hold her own with the overbearing Krist.
She spoke Spanish, German, English and French, and she had a quick smile and a European flair.
To Krist, the hot-blooded Eisemann was the antidote to a sex life with Carmen that had gone stale after the births of their two sons. To Krist's delight, Eisemann was willing to experiment in the bedroom. Among other things, they enjoyed taking risqué Polaroids of one another.
Three weeks before Christmas, Krist informed his wife that he no longer loved her. She packed up and moved back to Redwood City with the children.
Carmen Krist later told reporters she bore no grudge against Krist. She wasn't surprised about his mistress because he often lobbied his wife to allow him to lead a sexually "open" lifestyle. But she wasn't into it.
"Gary doesn't want to lead a mediocre life," she said. "He wants to be remembered."
Eisemann enthusiastically took her place in Krist's trailer.
He soon let her in on his get-rich-quick kidnap plan. They would take the $500,000 ransom and flee to Europe, he told her, where they would live happily ever after.
Perfect Crime
In the fall of 1968, Gary Krist searched methodically for the perfect victim for his perfect crime.
In his memoir, "Life," Krist claimed that he spent weeks in the Miami public library, poring over social registers and newspaper clippings to find a target. He winnowed a list of 100 possible victims to just 10, then eliminated those one by one until a single name was left: Barbara Jane Mackle.
Her father, Robert Mackle, 57, co-owned the Deltona Corp., a pioneer of planned communities in Florida, with his brothers Elliott and Frank Jr.
Frank Mackle Sr. had developed Key Biscayne as cheap housing for returning soldiers in the 1950s. The modest $10,000 houses became known as "Mackles."
Frank Sr.'s sons replicated his success on Key Biscayne with community development projects across the Sunshine State, including Deltona, now a city outside Orlando with 75,000 residents; Spring Hill and Citrus Springs, north of Tampa; St. Augustine Shores on Florida's northeast coast; Sunny Hills, near Panama City, and the ritzy Marco Island, south of Fort Myers.
The Mackle brothers had become players in politics when Richard Nixon bought a modest "Mackle" on Key Biscayne that later became the unofficial winter White House.
Robert Mackle forged a friendship with both Nixon and his Key Biscayne neighbor and advisor, Bebe Rebozo.
Krist learned that Robert Mackle lived with his family in a mansion on a golf course at 4111 San Amaro Drive in Coral Gables, south of Miami. He and his wife, Jane, had two children, Robert Jr., 24, and Barbara, 20.
Krist's research revealed that Barbara, a tall brunette, was a junior coed at Emory University in Atlanta.
A newspaper profile of Mackle placed the value of his firm at $65 million.
Gary Krist didn't want all of Mackle's money. Just $500,000 of it.
Hong Kong Flu
Barbara Mackle was not feeling well as Christmas approached in 1968.
The Hong Kong flu, raging across America, had arrived at Emory. She was scheduled to take semester-ending exams, then fly home to Florida on Dec. 20 to spend Christmas break with her family.
She phoned her mother in Coral Gables on Dec. 12 to say she was terribly sick with the flu but intended to stay at school to complete her exams.
Jane Mackle flew to Atlanta to remove her daughter from campus, where the infirmary was overflowing and medications were scarce.
On Dec. 13, they checked into a Rodeway Inn in Decatur, Ga., at the edge of the Emory campus. Under her mother's care, Barbara managed to study and travel to campus intermittently for exams.
Coincidentally, Krist and Eisemann arrived in Atlanta at about the same time as Jane Mackle.
Krist had built his underground capsule in a trailer at the University of Miami. He and Eisemann had disposed of their possessions in Miami, then hauled the capsule 12 hours north in a Volvo station wagon. They located a remote spot in the piney woods outside Atlanta and spent a day digging a hole in the clay soil to install the capsule.
Locating the victim proved simple by comparison.
Krist, posing as a "scholarship investigator," learned the name of her dormitory by merely asking at the admissions office. A dorm mate told Krist that Mackle was staying with her mother at the Rodeway Inn. He identified their room — No. 137 — by staking out the motel.
The Snatch
Krist startled the women awake with a knock at 4 a.m. on Tuesday, Dec. 17. He said he was a police officer and that Barbara's fiancé, Stewart Woodward, had been hurt in a car accident.
When Mrs. Mackle opened the door, Krist and Eisemann—wearing ski masks—barged in and brandished an assault rifle.
They tied up Jane Mackle and knocked her out with chloroform, then snatched the daughter, dressed only in a flannel nightgown.
Krist drove 20 miles north, to a spot near Duluth, Ga. He exited the highway at South Berkeley Lake Road, then turned off again into a patch of woods, easing the Volvo 100 feet back through the trees.
Krist got out and pulled away tree limbs that obscured the capsule. And Barbara Mackle got her first look at the terror that awaited her.
The capsule was roughly 3 feet wide, 3 /2 feet deep and 7 feet long. It was constructed of plywood, and the interior was lined with fiberglass. The corners were reinforced with steel brackets.
Krist popped off the lid and launched into a proud explanation to Mackle of how he had equipped the tomb with everything she would need to keep her safe until he received the ransom.
Krist pointed out that the capsule had food, water (laced with sedatives), a fan, a lamp, a blanket and a sweater. Two flexible plastic pipes to the surface brought in fresh air.
The woman's eyes were like saucers.
"No, no, no!" she cried.
She begged Krist to take her anywhere else, but not to bury her. According to Krist, she repeated one phrase like a mantra: "I'll be good!"
Krist held the victim's arms while Eisemann applied a chloroform-soaked towel to her face.
She was drowsy but not knocked out as they lowered her into the tomb.
She cried out again and again as Krist fastened the lid with 14 screws, then buried her beneath hundreds of pounds of dirt and camouflaging branches.
Mackle listened through the air tubes as the shoveling stopped. She heard footsteps, followed by the sound of a car starting and driving away.
She later wrote, "I started screaming and pounding to try to get out. With my fists I hit the walls as hard as I could. With all my strength I braced and pushed ... I was screaming, 'God, no, you can't leave me!'"
It was 8:30 a.m. on Dec. 17.
She lay there petrified, her chest heaving—below ground in a claustrophobic capsule that offered no chance for escape.
Her life was in the hands of her kidnappers. As she regained composure, she took stock of her surroundings. Beneath a Kotex box she found a long, typed note from Krist that proudly explained his wonderful hostage-holding device.
"DO NOT BE ALARMED. YOU ARE SAFE ... YOU'LL BE HOME FOR CHRISTMAS ONE WAY OR THE OTHER."
Among other things, Krist bragged in the note that his ingenious capsule included a battery that would operate her light and fan for a full 11 days.
He was wrong. The battery crapped out in just three hours.
The Ransom
Krist phoned the Mackle home that morning to direct the family to a set of instructions he had buried ahead of time under a rock in their yard.
If Mackle agreed to pay the $500,000 ransom, he was to place a classified ad in the next day's Miami Herald.
Krist and Eisemann spent the day preparing the ransom pickup and their escape. They bought plane tickets to Chicago and a small boat.
The next morning, Dec. 18, the ad appeared in the paper:
"LOVED ONE: Please come home.
We will pay all expense and meet
you anywhere at any time. Your Family."
Late that night, Krist phoned the Mackle home with ransom drop instructions. Robert Mackle was to leave the money on a seawall along Fair Isles Causeway at Biscayne Bay, a few miles from Mackle's mansion in Coral Gables.
Krist waited nearby, bobbing in a skiff in the bay. He planned to race to shore, grab the cash and jump in a getaway car, the Volvo, driven by Eisemann.
But as Mackle made the drop, two cops happened by, and the pickup was aborted, with Krist fleeing on foot and Eisemann abandoning the Volvo.
It was a fiasco. The car contained a trove of information about the kidnappers, including Eisemann's passport, their checkbooks, documents that revealed their past addresses—even a collection of lacy bikini panties and racy nude Polaroids of both Krist and Eisemann. Police also found a Polaroid of Mackle holding a sign that bore the word "Kidnapped."
Krist and Eisemann decided to split up, planning a rendezvous in Austin, Texas, as a prelude to their escape to Europe.
Eisemann boarded a bus heading west while Krist pressed a second ransom payment plan. He rented a car and phoned Mackle at 10:35 that night.
He ordered a new money drop on Southwest Eighth Street, at the edge of the city. The second drop went as planned, and Gary Krist had his $500,000.
He was rich—briefly.
By the time Krist picked up the cash, the FBI already knew the identities of both kidnappers. Warrants were issued, although authorities had no good idea of where to find the kidnappers.
That
would
change
when
Gary
Krist
made a
rookie
mistake.
"Don't Leave Me"
Krist decided his safest escape would be by boat. He planned to cross Florida via canals, then buzz across the Gulf of Mexico to the Texas rendezvous.
The morning after receiving the ransom, Krist pulled into D & D Marine Supply in West Palm Beach and purchased a 16-foot motorboat, using the name Arthur Horowitz.
But he paid for the boat with $2,240 in $20 bills.
The Mackle kidnapping was front-page news across the country, and everyone in America knew that morning that the ransom had been paid in $20 bills to a burly, bearded man.
At D&D Marine, owner Norman Oliphant thought it was curious that Arthur Horowitz, burly and bearded, had a thick stack of $20 bills.
He called police just after "Horowitz" towed the boat off the lot at noon.
An hour later — and nearly 15 hours after the ransom pickup — Gary Krist stopped at a payphone and called the Atlanta FBI office to leave directions to Barbara Mackle's burial site.
An army of agents raced toward Duluth. The first agents who found the spot spoke to Mackle through the air tubes, then frantically clawed at the earth with their bare hands to free her.
"She kept saying, 'Don't leave me,'" the FBI's Ange Robbe told the Atlanta Journal-Constitution. "We assured her we wouldn't."
She was finally freed after 83 hours underground — dehydrated, stiff and 10 pounds lighter.
Mackle told her rescuers, "You are the handsomest men I've ever seen."
She was whisked back to Miami in her father's private jet. During a brief appearance for the press, Mackle insisted her kidnappers had treated her humanely and that she was feeling "absolutely wonderful."
Escape from Florida
Krist turned up that night, Friday, Dec. 20, at the first lock of the Florida Intercoastal Waterway near St. Lucie.
He gave the lock tender his boat registration information, then continued west across Florida through the St. Lucie Canal, across Lake Okeechobee and through a series of locks leading to the Caloosahatchee River in the Fort Myers area on the west coast of the state.
Krist covered more than 100 miles by daybreak Saturday. But the tender at the final lock before the Caloosahatchee and open water got suspicious when Krist claimed he had lost his registration paperwork.
He radioed back to other locks and learned the man had crossed the state using the same story at each stop.
He allowed him through but called authorities, and they quickly discerned that the suspicious boatman was Krist.
A helicopter was scrambled up and an armada of police boats was turned loose on the Caloosahatchee. With lawmen approaching from all directions, Krist beached his vessel on Hog Island, a 30-square-mile jungle of dense mangroves in the bay off Fort Myers.
Agents and officers surrounded the island, and Krist was finally tracked down after 12 hours of running through the jungle.
According to the deputies who arrested him, Krist's first words were, "I have rights!"
The
deputies
recovered
$17,000
from his
pockets,
and the
FBI
found
another
$480,000
in the
boat.
Subtracting
the cost
of the
boat,
Krist
had
netted a
grand
total of
$761
from the
perfect
crime.
Trials
and
Punishment
Ruth Eisemann gained the distinction of becoming the first woman ever on the FBI's 10 Most Wanted list.
But her stay there was brief.
Seventy-nine days after the kidnapping, the financially destitute woman was arrested after applying for a job as a carhop in Norman, Okla. She was hauled back to Georgia for trial.
The jury did not buy her excuse that she was blindly in love with the charismatic Krist. She was convicted and sentenced to seven years. She was paroled after four and promptly deported to her native Honduras. She remains persona non grata in the U.S.
Krist, meanwhile, seemed bored by the trial—perhaps because his conviction was a foregone conclusion.
He had sought an insanity ruling, but the gambit failed—even after delivering one memorably egocentric statement after another to a court-appointed shrink.
He said, for example, "I am a superior human being."
The prosecutor, Richard Bell, judged him a superior thug, and he aggressively sought the death penalty, allowed under Georgia law in kidnapping-for-ransom cases.
During a break one day, Krist told reporters he expected to get "the electric chair or whatever means these barbarian humans use these days, I suppose."
The jury convicted him, and a majority voted for execution. But four jurors held out for a life sentence, so the panel was forced to recommend mercy.
Many believe Krist escaped death only because Barbara Mackle expressed appreciation during her testimony that Krist had spared her life by phoning the FBI after the ransom recovery.
Judge H.O. Hubert handed down a life sentence.
Krist said nothing. One reporter said he seemed to stifle a yawn and glance at the clock.
Getting Out
A prison shrink who evaluated Krist in 1969 called him "borderline schizophrenic."
In one revealing anecdote, Krist refused to acknowledge that his kidnapping plan was anything short of brilliant.
After an hour of combative answers to questions about all the details that had gone wrong, he finally allowed that "my only mistake was a minor miscalculation" about the number of lawmen pursuing him on Hog Island.
"He seems to have an obsession for others to think of him as a superior individual," the psychiatrist wrote. "He talked of his crime being part of a grand design which he had."
Once in prison, Krist's grand design centered on finding a way out.
First he tried groveling. In 1971, he wrote a letter to his victim: "Of course my crime was evil, immoral, and cruel and I cannot excuse it. I don't deserve forgiveness but it would make me happy to receive it. The crime is past and I can learn from it but I cannot change it."
He then tried propaganda. In 1972, he published a memoir, "Life," an odd, 370-page account of his life that was equal parts egomaniacal jeremiad and heavy-breathing account of his sexual achievements—all written in a haughty, academic tone.
"I'm reconciled to pay my social bill," he wrote. "And then maybe ... I can go out and live, if not in perfect amity, then perhaps within a square-shooting truce that will lead to my repudiation of the hostile spirit down to its last vestige."
He next tried escape, concealing himself inside a garbage truck. But he was caught and his privileges revoked.
Finally, he tried the perfect-prisoner con, and he found the perfect sucker.
Rehab
Scam
Krist
began
tutoring
fellow
inmates,
teaching
them to
read and
write.
He took
college
classes,
trained
as an
EMT and
worked
in the
prison
hospital.
He also
cultivated
a
relationship
with
James T.
(Tommy)
Morris,
the
influential
chairman
of the
Georgia
Parole
Board.
Under
the
lenient
parole
protocols
of that
era,
even as
a lifer,
Krist
became
eligible
to apply
for
parole
after
just
seven
years in
prison.
He lined
up a
number
of
doctors
and
professors
who
lobbied
for his
release,
led by
his
prison
pen pal
girlfriend,
Joan
Jones.
The
decision
to free
or
detain
Krist
was left
to the
parole
board,
and
Morris
had
tremendous
influence
on his
colleagues.
Morris
advocated
for
Krist's
release
as early
as 1976.
The
convict
promised
to
return
to
Pelican,
Alaska,
to work
in the
family
shrimp
business.
A hitch
arose
when
Alaskan
officials
said
they
didn't
want him
back.
But by
1979,
after
lobbying
by
Krist's
family
and
Tommy
Morris,
Alaska
acquiesced.
Barbara
Mackle,
by then
a wife
and
mother,
did not
oppose
the
release.
So the
Georgia
Parole
Board
quietly
voted to
free the
infamous
con.
Prosecutor
Bell was
incensed,
predicting
that
Krist's
"devious
mind"
would
inevitably
lead him
back to
crime.Krist's
trial
judge,
H.O.
Hubert
said
Morris
had been
conned.
"I just
don't
think he
will
ever
change,"
said the
judge.
But
Morris
continued
to tout
Krist's
rehabilitation,
despite
a public
outcry.
"There
is
nothing
in our
files to
indicate
Gary
Steven
Krist is
violent
or
dangerous,"
he told
the New
York
Times. "If
he does
commit a
crime,
it won't
be a
crime of
violence."
Remarkably,
Morris
claimed
the
kidnapping
was a
negligible
crime,
because
no one
was
killed.
"The
fact is
the
victim
did live
and is
totally
recovered,"
Morris
said.
Barbara
Mackle "suffers
no
lasting
trauma
from the
ordeal
...
Therefore
the net
result
is
little
harm was
done."
"He
isn't
the same
person
at all,"
Krist's
mother,
Bobbie,
told the
Times. "It
just
took him
a long
time to
grow up.
I think
he has
served
his time
and paid
his debt
to
society."
He
walked
out of
prison
on May
14,
1979,
still
just 33
years
old. He
told
reporters
that he
might
just
become a
missionary.
The wife
he had
abandoned
divorced
him
while he
was in
prison.
But
waiting
at the
prison
gates
was Joan
Jones,
his
prison
pen pal.
They
were
married
a few
months
later.
Krist's
mother
predicted
it would
be a
long
time
before
America
heard
from her
son
again.
This was
true.
Dr. Krist
Krist began taking college classes in
Alaska, with an eye toward pursuing what
he called his "lifelong dream" of
becoming a doctor.
Legitimate medical schools bar felons,
so Krist began working a new con. He
contacted his old pal Tommy Morris in
Georgia to press for a pardon.
Morris squeezed a recommendation out of
Krist's probation officer, and soon
Krist got his pardon, which allowed him
to enroll at second-rate Caribbean
medical schools.
He graduated in the
mid-1990s, then apparently worked as a
doctor in Haiti while desperately
seeking positions back home.
But his past proved a
heavy burden.
He tried medical
residencies in West Virginia, Alabama
and Connecticut, but lost the positions
when his criminal background came to
light.
In 2001, he took a
position in Chrisney, Ind., a rural
village with no doctor. Indiana was
aware of his past and granted Krist a
probationary license. But he lost that
job, too, after the Evansville (Ind.)
Courier-Press published a story about
the Mackle kidnapping.
He told the paper, "I
think a man should be judged as much by
the last half of his life as by the
first half."
In
2003, after Indiana revoked Krist's
medical license, he told a reporter, "I'm
not going to be able to fulfill my dream.
I tried to be a beneficial part of
society. They wouldn't let me."
"He made a strong effort to rehabilitate
himself," Fred Tieman, Krist's lawyer,
told the Atlanta Journal-Constitution. "But
it didn't work out. The effort to become
a doctor failed, he believes, because
his history came back to haunt him."
He
was a victim — forced, it would seem, to
turn to turn to a new career: cocaine
importation.
Sailing Away
In
the fall of 2001, at
about the time he got
his probationary medical
license in Indiana,
Krist and his wife's
son, Henry Jackson (Jackie)
Greeson, incorporated
Greeson & Krist
Construction Inc. with
the Georgia Secretary of
State. The company
claimed specialties in
sheet metal fabrication
and "bullet-proof rooms."
They developed a
secondary specialty, as
well.
Gary Krist rented a 27-foot
sailboat in Point Clear,
Ala., just before
Christmas 2004. Federal
authorities believe he
sailed to Cartagena,
Colombia, where he
bought a kilo of cocaine.
A
year later, Krist and
Greeson chartered
another sailboat from a
Mobile Bay marina from
Nov. 14 to Dec. 4, 2005.
The men again sailed to
South America and bought
six kilos of cocaine,
about 13 pounds.
When they returned from
that trip, the charter
company grew suspicious
when employees found
aboard the boat a map of
the Colombian coast.
The
charter firm contacted
authorities. When Krist
reserved another
sailboat for just a
month later, in January
2006, federal agents
installed a tracking bug
on the vessel.
Krist again sailed to
Colombia.
When he returned to
Mobile Bay on March 6,
an army of local, state
and federal lawmen
rushed the boat as it
docked.
They seized four illegal
aliens—two from
Colombia, two from
Ecuador—who had paid
Krist $6,000 each. And
in a cooler they found
38 pounds of cocaine in
paste form, with a
street value of as much
as $2 million.
Authorities believe he
used profits from the
sale of his earlier
cocaine purchases to buy
progressively larger
amounts of the narcotic.
Dwight
McDaniel, a federal
immigration agent in
Mobile, said Krist had
rigged a clever quick
release for the cocaine
in case his boat was
boarded at sea.
The
cocaine cooler was
filled with cement and
lashed in place with a
rope. McDaniel said it
would have taken just
seconds to cut the rope
and slide the cooler
overboard, where the
evidence would have
sunk.
"We would have never
found it," McDaniel
said. "It was a very
good setup ... (by) a
very smart man."
Underground
Lab
On March
10, drug
investigators
searched
Krist's
home, on
Georgia
Highway
324 just
outside
of
Auburn,
35 miles
east of
Atlanta.
They
made a
stunning
discovery
when
they
pried
open a
concealed
trap
door in
the
floor of
a small
garden
shed.
A ladder
gave
access
to a
submarine-style
workshop
built
inside a
metal
cylinder
measuring
27 1/2
feet
long and
8 feet
in
diameter.
The
laboratory
had
running
water
and
electricity
and was
stocked
with
chemicals
and
containers
used to
convert
the
cocaine
from
paste to
powder,
which
authorities
believe
Krist
and
Greeson
then
sold in
Atlanta.
The lab
also
featured
an
escape
route—a
tunnel
nearly
20 yards
long
that
snaked
to the
surface,
terminating
in a
camouflaged
50-gallon
barrel.
Neighbors
had a
wide
range of
opinions
about
Krist.
One told
the
Athens
Banner-Herald
that
Krist
was a
know-it-all.
"He just
knows
everything,"
he said.
"He
don't
talk
good
about
nobody."
Another
said
Krist
was not
shy
about
his
criminal
accomplishments,
saying
he
bragged
about
the
Mackle
kidnapping.
Others
had a
different
take.
"He was
as nice
a person
as you
could
meet,"
said
Billy
Parks, a
city
councilman
and
Krist's
former
mailman.
"He was
very
polite —
just a
gentleman."
And
another
neighbor
told the
Athens
paper,
"He was
a pretty
good ol'
boy. He
never
raised
his
voice or
said
anything
vulgar
to my
children
... I
ain't
never
heard
him say
a cuss
word."
No
Reaction
Gary
Krist's
kidnapping
victim
has had
nothing
to say
about
his
latest
arrest.
In 1971,
she
coauthored
a memoir
about
her
ordeal,
"83
Hours
Till
Dawn."
She said
in the
book, "I
wanted
to tell
it once
completely
and as
honestly
as I
could,
so that
it will
be
behind
me. I
want to
end it.
I want
to put
it
behind
me. Once
and for
all, I
want it
to be
over.
Forever
and ever."
She
hasn't spoken publicly
about it since.
"It's
not a part of our life
at all," her father,
Robert Mackle, told The
Miami Herald 10 years
after the kidnapping. "Nobody
will understand that it
didn't affect her."
Barbara Mackle married
her college sweetheart,
Stewart Woodward, who
became a successful
accountant in Atlanta.
The couple had two
children, then moved
some years ago to a
seaside home in Vero
Beach, Fla.
She
has deflected all
attempts by the media to
talk about Krist, but
their fates are forever
intertwined.
She
may have spared Krist's
life with her merciful
testimony.
"I
know that I did not want
Krist to be executed,"
she wrote in her memoir.
"For one reason, it was
he who called (the FBI
to free her)."
And
her attitude about his
early parole and pardon
left him free to commit
his latest crimes.
In
his memoir, Krist
praised Barbara Mackle
for the measured tones
she used when testifying
— a tacit
acknowledgement that she
may have saved his life.
As
Krist put it, "My victim
has put me in her moral
debt for life."
Sentencing Due
Krist and
Greeson pleaded guilty
on May 16, 2006, in U.S.
District Court in Mobile
to conspiracy to import
cocaine and smuggling
aliens. Their sentences
could range from 10
years to life on each
count, in addition to
fines of up to $4
million.
Assistant U.S. Attorney
Deborah Griffin has postponed
the sentencing three
times because Krist is
frantically trying to
cooperate with federal
authorities. He and
Greeson are expected to
testify against Antonio
Bryan Joseph, accused of conspiring
with the men to
distribute the cocaine.
Krist
and Greeson are now
scheduled to be
sentenced in January
2007.
Krist's wife, Joan, told
the Athens, Ga.,
newspaper,
"He is a
good man, and he had not
done anything to anyone
in years."
She
expressed no resentment
toward her husband, even
though he involved her
son in a racket likely
to get him sent away for
at least a decade.
For his
part, Krist will go to
prison and attempt to
cultivate helpful
alliances. No doubt he's
already trying to figure
out a way to get out. He
has one thing going for
him: His brain.
Resources
Books
"83
Hours
Till
Dawn,"
Gene
Miller
and
Barbara
Jane
Mackle,
Doubleday
& Co.,
1971
"Life,"
Gary
Krist,
The
Olympia
Press,
1972
News
Articles
"Woman
Is
Sought
in
Mackle
Case,"
UPI,
Dec.
23,
1968
"Making
an
Impact,"
Time
Magazine,
Jan.
3,
1969
"Parole
of
Kidnapper
Angers
Atlanta,"
by
Howell
Raines,
New
York
Times,
May
14,
1979
"South
Florida's
Crimes
of
the
Century
Riveted
the
Nation,"
by
Edna
Buchanan,
Miami
Herald,
Sept.
15,
2002
"Buried
Alive,"
by
Rachel
Sauer,
Palm
Beach
Post,
Jan.
11,
2004
"Kidnapper
Now
a
Smuggling
Suspect,"
Atlanta
Journal-Constitution,
March
11,
2006
"An
'Evil'
Crime,
Then
Quiet
Life
Until
Drug
Bust,"
by
Todd
Defeo,
Athens
(Ga.)
Banner-Herald
"Smuggler
Facing
Life
With
Plea,"
by
Todd
Defeo,
Athens
(Ga.)
Banner-Herald,
May
18,
2006
"Sentencing
Delayed
for
Drug
Smuggler,"
by
Todd
Defeo,
Athens
(Ga.)
Banner-Herald,
Aug.
9,
2006
TruTV.com
The Survival Instructions
These are the survival instructions
left in the "capsule" by Gary Steven Krist and Ruth
Eisemann - Schier for their kidnap victim Barbara Mackle,
"The Girl in the Box". After her family paid a $500, 000
ransom, the FBI received a phone call informing them of
her location. She was rescued after being buried alive
in the box for 83 hours.
DO NOT BE ALARMED. YOU ARE SAFE.
YOU ARE PRESENTLY INSIDE A FIBERGLASS REINFORCED PLYWOOD
CAPSULE BURIED BENEATH THE GROUND NEAR THE HOUSE IN
WHICH YOUR KIDNAPPERS ARE STAYING. YOUR STATUS WILL BE
CHECKED APPROXIMATELY EVERY 2 HOURS.
THE CAPSULE IS QUITE STRONG, YOU WILL NOT BE ABLE TO
BREAK IT OPEN. BE ADVISED, HOWEVER, THAT YOU ARE BENEATH
THE WATER TABLE. IF YOU BREAK OPEN A SEAM YOU WOULD
DROWN BEFORE WE COULD DIG YOU OUT. THE CAPSULE
INSTRUMENTATION CONTAINS A WATER SENSITIVE SWITCH WHICH
WILL WARN US IF THE WATER ENTERS THE CAPSULE TO A
DANGEROUS DEGREE.
YOUR LIFE DEPENDS ON THE AIR DELIVERED TO YOUR CHAMBER
VIA THE VENTILATION FAN. THIS FAN IS POWERED BY A LEAD-ACID
STORAGE BATTERY CAPABLE OF SUPPLYING THE FAN MOTOR WITH
POWER FOR 270 HOURS. HOWEVER, THE USE OF THE LIGHT AND
OTHER SYSTEMS FOR ONLY A FEW HOURS COUPLED WITH THE
HIGHER AMPERAGE DRAIN WILL REDUCE THIS FIGURE TO ONLY
ONE WEEK OF SAFETY.
SHOULD THE AIR SUPPLIED PROVE TO BE TOO MUCH YOU CAN
PARTLY BLOCK THE AIR OUTLET WITH A PIECE OF PAPER. A
MUFFLER HAS BEEN PLACED IN THE AIR PASSAGE TO PREVENT
ANY NOISE YOU MAKE FROM REACHING THE SURFACE: IF WE
DETECT ANY COMMOTION WHICH WE FEEL IS DANGEROUS, WE WILL
INTRODUCE ETHER TO THE AIR INTAKE AND PUT YOU TO SLEEP.
THE FAN OPERATES ON 6 VOLTS. IT HAS A SWITCH WITH TWO
POSITIONS TO SWITCH BETWEEN THE TWO AVAILABLE CIRCUITS.
SHOULD ONE CIRCUIT FAIL TURN TO THE OTHER.
THE BOX HAS A PUMP WHICH WILL EVACUATE ANY ACCIDENTAL
LEAKAGE FROM THE BOX WHEN YOU TURN THE PUMP SWITCH ON TO
THE "ON" POSITION. THIS PUMP USES 15 TIMES AS MUCH POWER
AS YOUR VENTILATION FAN (7.5 AMPS); YOUR LIFE SUPPORT
BATTERY WILL NOT ALLOW USE OF THE PUMP EXCEPT FOR
EMERGENCY WATER EVACUATION.
THE LIGHT USES 2.5 TIMES THE AMPERAGE OF THE AIR
CIRCULATION SYSTEM. USE OF THE LIGHT WHEN NOT NECESSARY
WILL CUT YOUR BATTERY SAFETY MARGIN SUBSTANTIALLY. IF
YOU USE THE LIGHT CONTINUOUSLY YOUR LIFE EXPECTANCY WILL
BE CUT TO ONE THIRD OF THE WEEK WE HAVE ALLOTTED YOU
BEFORE YOU ARE RELEASED.
YOUR CAPSULE CONTAINS A WATER JUG WITH THREE GALLONS OF
WATER AND A TUBE FROM WHICH TO DRINK IT. BE CAREFUL TO
BLOW THE WATER FROM THE TUBE WHEN YOU ARE FINISHED
DRINKING TO AVOID SIPHONING THE WATER ONTO THE FLOOR
WHEN THE TUBE END DROPS BELOW THE WATER LEVEL.
YOUR CAPSULE CONTAINS A BUCKET FOR REFUSE AND THE
PRODUCTS OF YOUR BOWEL MOVEMENTS. THE BUCKET HAS AN
ANTIBACTERIAL SOLUTION IN IT: DON'T TIP IT OVER. THE LID
SEALS TIGHTLY TO PREVENT THE ESCAPE OF ODORS. A ROLL OF
WAX PAPER IS PROVIDED - USE IT TO PREVENT SOLID WASTE
FROM CONTAMINATING YOUR BED. KOTEX IS PROVIDED SHOULD
YOU NEED IT.
BLANKETS AND A MAT ARE PROVIDED. YOUR WARMTH DEPENDS ON
BODY HEAT SO REGULATE THE AIR TO PREVENT LOSS OF HEAT
FROM THE CAPSULE.
A CASE OF CANDY IS PROVIDED TO FURNISH ENERGY TO YOUR
BODY.
TRANQUILIZERS ARE PROVIDED TO AID YOU IN SLEEPING - THE
BEST WAY YOU HAVE TO PASS THE TIME.
THE VENTILATION SYSTEM IS DOUBLY SCREENED TO PREVENT
INSECTS OR ANIMALS FROM ENTERING THE CAPSULE AREA. YOU
RISK BEING EATEN BY ANTS SHOULD YOU BREAK THESE
PROTECTION SCREENS.
THE ELECTRICAL COMPONENTS BEHIND THESE SCREENS ARE
DELICATE AND THEY SUPPORT YOUR LIFE. DON'T ATTEMPT TO
TOUCH THESE CIRCUITS.
WE'RE SURE YOUR FATHER WILL PAY THE RANSOM WE HAVE ASKED
IN LESS THAN ONE WEEK. WHEN YOUR FATHER PAYS THE RANSOM
WE WILL TELL HIM WHERE YOU ARE AND HE'LL COME FOR YOU.
SHOULD HE FAIL TO PAY WE WILL RELEASE YOU, SO BE CALM
AND REST - YOU'LL BE HOME FOR CHRISTMAS ONE WAY OR THE
OTHER.
Crimescene.com
An 'evil' crime, then quiet life until drug bust
By Todd DeFeo - OnlineAthens.com
Sunday, April 9, 2006
The two men arrived at the
Alabama marina, stepped onto the chartered
sailboat and left town.
They sailed to a second
marina where one of the men disembarked and
drove back to Atlanta.
The next day, the man still
on the boat - 60-year-old Gary Steven Krist of
Auburn, well-known for a crime he perpetrated
more than 35 years ago - set sail, government
agents tracking his every move.
Krist, according to federal
court records, sailed to Colombia, where he
stayed for five days before returning to the
States.
When he arrived, federal
agents nabbed Krist and the other man - his
stepson Henry Jackson "Jackie" Greeson, 48, of
Auburn and almost 39 pounds of cocaine and four
illegal immigrants - who paid $6,000 each to
come to America - on board the boat the duo
chartered.
Krist's arrest brought back
into the limelight a man who in 1968 kidnapped
the daughter of a well-known Florida businessman,
buried her alive in the Berkeley Lake area of
Gwinnett County and collected a $500,000 ransom
from her father - money he later used to buy a
boat to try to flee.
A kidnapper who became a
physician, a man of above-average intelligence
who authorities believe became a cocaine runner,
Krist landed in the quiet town of Auburn, where
authorities found an elaborate underground lab
they say Krist used to process cocaine.
'My crime was evil'
On Dec. 17, 1968, Gary Steven
Krist, a Miami resident at the time, made a name
for himself.
Accompanied by Ruth Eisemann
Schier, a woman he met in Bermuda while there
conducting research, according to Georgia prison
records, Krist kidnapped Emory University
student Barbara Jane Mackle, the daughter of a
wealthy and well-known Florida businessman.
Mackle was buried alive in a
capsule for 83 hours and found by investigators
after her father paid a $500,000 ransom. Krist
built an elaborate coffin - complete with a
life-support system - to bury the young co-ed.
As investigators scrambled to
find Mackle, Krist drove to a West Palm Beach,
Fla., marina where he bought a boat, paying
$2,239 in cash, according to court records. A
day after he bought the boat, Krist was arrested
on the Intracoastal Waterway near Fort Myers,
Fla.
Mackle later wrote a book
about her experience - titled "83 Hours 'Til
Dawn" - that was made into a movie. Krist also
wrote a book.
A jail worker who interviewed
Krist as he was booked into a Georgia state
prison in Jackson classified the convicted
kidnapper as "borderline schizophrenic."
"He seems to have an
obsession for others to think of him as a
superior individual," the interviewer wrote in a
1969 classification and admission summary. "He
talked of his crime being part of a grand design
which he had."
In fact, Krist had dreamed of
carrying out such a plan since he was 14 years
old, according to prison records.
Krist, who had an IQ of 119,
used his time in prison, attending as many
classes as he could. He admitted the kidnapping
was evil and wrong, asked Mackle's forgiveness
and planned to move on.
"Of course my crime was evil,
immoral, and cruel and I cannot excuse it,"
Krist wrote in a 1971 letter to Mackle. "I don't
deserve forgiveness but it would make me happy
to receive it. The crime is past and I can learn
from it but I cannot change it."
A new start
The son of a fisherman
father, left in the custody of others as a
child, Krist was in and out of prison while
still a teenager. He tried to escape at least
four times, according to Georgia parole board
records.
As Krist and another man were
escaping a California prison in 1966, the other
man was shot and killed, Krist said in a letter
included in his Georgia Board of Pardons and
Paroles file.
While serving the Georgia
prison sentence for kidnapping Mackle, Krist
became a leader, teaching inmates how to care
for themselves and how to read and write, former
parole board chairman James T. Morris noted in a
recommendation letter for Krist.
The parole board considered
Krist reformed, even though he was implicated in
the burning of a prison chapel and convicted of
attempting to escape.
In May 1979, after spending a
decade in state prison, Krist was released on
parole and by all accounts, appeared to turn his
life around.
"Krist has maintained an
excellent attitude during the time he has been
under my supervision," a probation officer wrote
in a March 1983 report recommending that Georgia
terminate Krist's parole for the kidnapping
conviction. "He occasionally appears somewhat
arrogant, but I feel this reflects the feeling
he has about himself in terms of his now
considering himself quite intellectual.
"I have seen nothing in his
behavior indicative of a return to criminal
behavior," he added.
In January 1981, Krist
started attending colleges, and later, medical
school in the Caribbean. A year after he was
pardoned by the state of Georgia, he moved to
Auburn, according to federal court records.
Though he maintained an
address in Barrow County, in December 2001 the
state of Indiana issued Krist a probationary
physician's license.
As part of the application
process, Krist admitted his criminal past and
the fact that he was denied a medical license by
the state of Alabama.
"He had the makings of a good
doctor," said Robin Roos, a resident of
Chrisney, Ind., who leased Krist office space.
"A lot of people around here liked him. A lot of
people didn't like him because of what he's
done."
At first Krist kept quiet
about his past, but local reporters began
hounding him, Roos said.
"It tore him up," Roos said,
adding, "He paid his dues. He just wanted to go
on with his life and be a doctor."
In 2003, Indiana revoked
Krist's medical license, partly because he lied
on his application by saying he said he had
never been reprimanded, censured or admonished.
"I'm not going to be able to
fulfill my dream," Krist told an Evansville,
Ind., television reporter in 2003. "I tried to
be a beneficial part of society. They wouldn't
let me."
Quiet Georgia life
When he was arrested in
Alabama last month, Krist lived in a rural area
just outside the city limits of Auburn in
western Barrow County.
The man with a well-known
past had lived in a relatively quiet life - some
residents didn't even know Krist lived in their
community.
"He was as nice a person as
you could meet," said Billy Parks, a former
postal carrier who delivered Krist's mail to
him. "He was very polite - just a gentleman."
"You wouldn't even think
anything was going on with him," added Parks,
also a city councilman.
About two weeks before
receiving his physician's license in Indiana,
Krist and Jackie Greeson incorporated a
construction business in Georgia, Greeson &
Krist Construction Inc., according to Georgia
Secretary of State records. An Auburn company
printed business cards for them, noting the
company was "Specializing in Sheet Metal
Fabrication & Bullet Proof Rooms."
Krist's neighbors - some whom
were reluctant to talk or simply refused
interviews - offer up a mixed picture of the
well-known man.
"He just knows everything,"
said one Auburn resident who asked not to be
identified. "He don't talk good about nobody."
"I'm scared of him," she
added. "You don't know what he's going to do."
Of the now infamous
kidnapping, the resident said: "He'll tell you
about it. He brags about stuff like that."
But another Auburn man
disagreed with all the negative publicity Krist
has received recently, admitting like Krist he
has made mistakes in his past.
"There ain't no use to rub it
in the ground," the man said.
"He was a pretty good ol'
boy," he added. "He's never raised his voice or
said anything vulgar to my children. ... I ain't
never heard him say a cuss word."
Trouble again
Federal homeland security
agents descended on the Auburn Police Department
last month.
"Do you know you have a
celebrity living in your community?" one of the
men asked Auburn police Chief Fred Brown. "Who?"
the police chief asked.
It soon became clear who was
living just outside of town.
At about 4 p.m. March 10,
drug investigators from the Barrow County
Sheriff's Office Meth Task Force, agents from
the U.S. Department of Homeland Security and U.S.
Citizenship and Immigration Services and
officers from the Auburn Police Department and
Barrow County Fire and Emergency Services
executed a search warrant at Krist's house at
134 Georgia Highway 324, northwest of Auburn.
Authorities found an
underground cocaine-processing laboratory,
concealed by a "seemingly normal storage shed."
"No matter how long you think
you can get away with it, you get caught," Brown
said.
Investigators entered the lab
through a small panel that was cut into the
shed's concrete floor. The access panel was
covered with a wooden hatch that had to be pried
open, authorities said.
Investigators then climbed
down a ladder into the lab, which was
constructed out of a buried cylindrical tank
roughly 27 1/2 feet long.
The lab - which was equipped
with electricity, lighting, a water source and a
submerged pump to evacuate wastewater out of the
lab - held various chemicals, glassware and
equipment used to process cocaine, turning
cocaine paste into a power form that is sold in
the streets, according to the Barrow County
sheriff's office.
Investigators also found a
50-foot-long escape tunnel that ran into a
modified barrel that was camouflaged.
Krist remains in federal
custody, charged with importing cocaine into the
United States and bringing in and harboring
aliens, according to federal court records. A
federal magistrate judge in Alabama -
acknowledging Krist is "skilled in the operation
of vessels in international waters" - decided he
was a flight risk.
A trial date on the drug
charge is pending. If convicted, Krist faces up
to 10 more years in prison.
"I'm glad they got him," said
the Auburn resident who asked not to be
identified. "I hope they keep him in the pokey."
SEX:
M RACE: W TYPE: N MOTIVE: PC-nonspecific
MO:
Confessed slayer of two gay men, one girl, and an unidentified victim
DISPOSITION:
Ga. life term for kidnapping, 1969; never charged with murder.
Michael Newton - An Encyclopedia
of Modern Serial Killers
