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The taunting smiley-face letters that led to a serial killer's downfall

The taunting smiley-face letters that led to a serial killer's downfall

The letters arrived unsigned, except for one thing.

A circle. Two dots. A curved line.

A smiley face, drawn in pen at the bottom of the page.

Keith Hunter Jesperson was a long-haul truck driver, and he sent these anonymous letters and postcards to police and media outlets.

The letters taunted authorities.

They claimed responsibility for murders.

The smiley face became his signature, a documented pattern of taunting that investigators would come to recognize.

His crimes spanned Oregon, Washington, California, Wyoming, and Florida.

The first confirmed killing was Taunja Bennett, 23, in January 1990 near Portland, Oregon.

She was strangled and dumped along a highway.

The case summary says "at least eight" victims.

That number is not established.

Some confessions remain unconfirmed.

How does a cheerful doodle become the mark of a serial killer?

How does a truck driver's taunt turn into the evidence that undoes him?

How does a smiley face lead to a downfall?

That would require the letters to be more than ink.

It would require a sister who recognized the handwriting.

It would require a confession with details only the killer would know.

THE FIRST KILLING

January 1990. Taunja Bennett, 23, was strangled and dumped along a highway near Portland, Oregon.

The investigation stalled.

A man and his girlfriend came forward and falsely confessed to the killing. The man was convicted and imprisoned for it.

The false confession was a significant mistake in the case. It sent the investigation down a wrong path for years. It let the actual killer keep driving.

Jesperson was a long-haul truck driver. His rig carried him across state lines, through Oregon, Washington, California, Wyoming, and Florida. He moved through those states the way other men moved through shifts.

The lead investigator was a detective with the Multnomah County Sheriff's Office. He had a body with no reliable suspect. He had a confession that fit too neatly. He had a case that seemed closed.

It was not closed.

The man in prison was innocent. The woman who confessed with him was never charged. The record does not establish her name in the news coverage of the case, so she is referred to here only by her role. The man is referred to only by his role as well.

What the record does establish is this: Bennett was dead, a man was imprisoned, and the real killer was somewhere on the highway. Not because the detective was careless. Because the confession was convincing.

It would take five years for the letters to arrive. It would take a sister to read the handwriting. It would take a confession with details only the killer would know.

Until then, the case sat stalled. The wrong man sat in prison. The truck kept moving.

THE LETTER THAT BROKE IT

It was 1995 when the letter reached the Oregonian.

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