Critics pointed out discrepancies and mistakes, a phenomenon in every high-profile murder case. Although Dave Reichert was hesitant about giving away too much about the continuing investigation, he often commented that he had been the “lead detective” in the Green River probe since the beginning. He had, indeed, been the first King County detective to be designated to a lead position, but only in the Debra Bonner, Opal Mills, Cynthia Hinds, and Marcia Chapman cases. No one questioned that he had worked doggedly alongside his fellow task force members on the dozens of cases that followed until he made sergeant in 1990. But, of course, no single investigator had been the sole “lead detective,” and many others had been assigned as “leads” as the unsolved homicide cases grew in number over the years.

Matt Haney had written the 1987 search warrants for Gary Ridgway’s vehicles and property, and assigned Reichert to handle the sweep of the first, most suspect, house off Military Road. Jim Doyon and Ben Colwell had been in charge of investigating Carol Christensen, Kimi-Kai Pitsor, Yvonne Antosh, and the woman known only as Bones #2. Rich Battle and Paul Smith were the leads in the murders of Giselle Lovvorn, Shawnda Summers, and Bones #8. And Port of Seattle investigators Jerry Alexander and Ty Hughes had traced the movements of people connected to Mary Bridget Meehan, Constance Naon, and Bones #6.

Early on, Sergeant Bob “Grizzly” Andrews and Randy Mullinax were responsible for women still missing. Mullinax was probably the most diligent in keeping families informed and comforting them. Sue Peters handled Keli McGinness’s investigation. And, of course, there had been numerous Green River Task Force commanders—from Dick Kraske to Jim Graddon. Dave Reichert had been away from the Green River cases for almost eleven years when, as sheriff, he reactivated the task force in the fall of 2001.

Although Reichert was a natural focus for the media—the first deputy ever to rise through every step in the department to become sheriff—he could take neither the credit nor the blame for all that had happened over the previous twenty years. As could be expected, there had been great gains and ignominious mistakes made in the hunt for one man among at least forty thousand suspects. Reichert and Tom Jensen had not been in the Ridgway camp, but the DNA tests had convinced them. Now, Reichert appointed Bruce Kalin, who had worked on an earlier Green River Task Force to head the further investigation of Gary Ridgway.

Two items of actual and circumstantial evidence that might well have added to the case against Gary Ridgway had, unfortunately, been lost. When Opal Mills’s clenched hand was unfolded in August 1982, investigators had seen a straight, brown Caucasian hair—a hair undoubtedly yanked from her killer’s head—just like Gary Ridgway’s. It had been bagged, sealed, marked…and lost. In 1982, the root tag couldn’t have been matched to Ridgway with DNA, in any case. Fifteen years later, it might have been possible.

The license plate number that Paige Miley, Kim Nelson’s friend, had given to an early task force member had also been lost. That might very well have led to Gary Ridgway nineteen years earlier, but by the time Paige was hypnotized, she could not find it in her subconscious mind.

Matt Haney was disappointed that two task force members hadn’t questioned Mary and Tom Ridgway in any depth when their house was searched in 1987, nor committed their conversation, if any, to a written report. Now, of course, both of Gary’s parents were deceased, and anything they might have contributed about the way his mind worked was lost forever.

The harshest critics of the Green River probe were DNA experts who decried the sheriff’s department’s long wait to employ the newest forensic science to pinion Ridgway. With the task force long disbanded, there was apparently no one in Reichert’s office who realized that the saliva sample Matt Haney, Jim Doyon, and WSP criminalist George Johnston had retrieved from Gary Ridgway in April 1987 and frozen could have been tested by 1996. While the new technique known as STR-PCR (short, tandem repeats polymerase chain reaction), requiring only minuscule amounts of test material, had been in place since then, the sheriff’s office didn’t submit suspects’ test samples to the WSP crime lab until March 2001, and the state lab had been using STR-PCR for almost two years.

A single cell from a fragment of sample could now be amplified exponentially, producing billions of DNA copies within hours. It does, however, take a “rocket scientist” or the equivalent to understand DNA, and there was quite possibly a three- to five-year lag in isolating Gary Ridgway’s DNA profile.

Unfortunately, not only was Jensen’s request several years late, the state patrol laboratory was overwhelmed with backed-up requests from other agencies. The state lab, of necessity, prioritized samples for cases that already had trial dates.

Howard Coleman, CEO of GeneLex, a Seattle-based DNA testing corporation, said his lab had been using the new technique for the Indiana State Police crime lab for five years. Had Jensen and Reichert thought to send the Green River DNA to a private lab, it would have been expensive but Ridgway might have been arrested much sooner. “There’s no one answer why we didn’t [request the tests earlier],” John Urquhart said. “It’s a confluence of factors. To begin with, the Washington State Patrol crime lab is our primary lab.” Urquhart went on to say that the expense of a private lab wasn’t the main reason for the delay; it was more that Tom Jensen had been working as the only Green River detective. “He’s had a lot to do.”

Any investigative team faced with the challenges of at least four dozen serial killings would have made mistakes and misjudgments. All Reichert could do was hope that there had been no new victims during the years when the DNA tests could have been carried out. But hindsight is always twenty-twenty, and the rejuvenated task force investigators moved into 2002, confident that they would uncover evidence that would convict Gary Ridgway in the trials to come.

The important thing was that they finally had a suspect in custody and charged with four counts of aggravated murder. If things worked out well, the task force could hope to increase those charges to include several more victims. County Executive Ron Sims announced some positive financial help on December 8, 2001. The federal government would contribute $500,000 to help pay for DNA tests on the forty-five victims’ cases where there were no charges yet filed.

Back at the Ridgways’ home in Auburn, two Christmas stockings still hung from their fireplace mantel, the names “Gary” and “Judith” embroidered on them, but the couple wouldn’t be sharing the holiday. Instead, Ridgway appeared in court for arraignment on the four aggravated murder charges. Court watchers and television viewers were somewhat surprised to see the meek-looking man in white scrubs with “Ultra Security” stamped on the back of his shirt. Was this the infamous Green River Killer? He looked more like Caspar Milquetoast.

He pleaded “not guilty” and was led back to his cell.

CAPTAIN BRUCE KALIN now commanded the newest Green River Task Force and Sheriff Reichert added a sergeant, D. B. Gates, and two more detectives to bring the number of investigators up to ten. He would soon beef up the task force even more. The command officers in the sheriff’s office, the task force members, and the prosecution team held frequent meetings to discuss how they would proceed. Matt Haney recalled that he admired the attitude in the task force where everyone, no matter the rank, was encouraged to say what they thought and to suggest ways to proceed. And everyone listened. “We tried to think ‘out of the box,’ ” Sue Peters said. “It didn’t matter how odd or strange a suggestion sounded. We weren’t going to proceed according to the way it was always done—always had been done. This was a very unusual investigation, and we were going to do whatever it took.”