I survived a SERIAL KILLER

Rhonda Stapley, 67, fell into the clutches of Ted Bundy, but unlike others, she lived to tell the tale

- BETH YOUNG

It was a perfect autumn day, but my patience was wearing thin. ‘Half an hour and still no bus,’ I thought, frustrated, my mouth throbbing from the dental surgery I’d just had. Then a tan Volkswagen Beetle car pulled up, and the driver rolled down the window and smiled.

‘Where you going?’ he asked, and I couldn’t help but notice how cute he was. ‘Up to campus,’ I said. It was October 1974, I was 21 and studying Pharmacy at the University of Utah. ‘Me, too! Hop in,’ the charming driver beamed. Back then, it wasn’t uncommon for strangers to offer lifts, and while I’d never dream of hitch-hiking, he was a fellow student, clean-cut and handsome with curly, dark-brown hair, so I thought it was my lucky day.

Climbing in, I reached for the handle to close the door, only it wasn’t there.

Leaning over me, he pulled it shut using the open window. ‘I’m Ted,’ he grinned.

I didn’t worry – lots of my friends’ old cars had broken bits, like missing radio knobs or sun visors. Only, after a few minutes, Ted took a wrong turn.

‘I hope you don’t mind, I just have an errand to run,’ he said when I asked where he was going. I didn't mind in the slightest, though – he was cute, polite and a first-year Law student. Quite the catch!

But the road twisted and turned, and became more and more unpopulated. Driving in silence, Tedslowed down as we passed various picnic spots.

I wondered if he was looking for somewhere to park and fool around. It was the kind of thing students did in those days, but while he was charming, I wasn’t up for that and started to worry.