True Crime Story: A Bizarre Coincidence

Woonsocket, Rhode Island is 8.6 square miles. Keep the size in mind while I share this crazy true crime story. Locals enjoy a close-knit community, but the town also has a dark side. And it’s in this crime-fueled section of Woonsocket that a bizarre string of crimes took place.

In the early morning hours of March 2, 2003, EMS received a flurry of phone calls about a naked woman prone in the street—severely beaten but alive—in the mill district. Paramedics transported Jane Smith (not an alias) to the hospital. When detectives arrived at Jane’s bedside, she told a harrowing tale of walking in the area of High and Arnold Streets, when a man in a SUV pulls curbside to proposition her. As a sex worker, Jane hopped into the stranger’s vehicle like she’s done a hundred times before.

No alarm bells rang in her head.

The unidentified man drove to a dark, secluded, woodsy area near the old mill. Parked the SUV, and sucker-punched her in the face. Panicked, fear rippling across her chest, Jane fought to escape. She managed to get away on foot, but he caught up and stabbed her in the face with a screwdriver. Not once, not twice. Multiple stab wounds littered her face, neck, and torso.

As he wielded the screwdriver, Jane fought hard to survive, but he overpowered her. She’s lucky to be alive, she told detectives. When asked to describe her assailant, Jane said Caucasian white male in his 30’s with blond hair, black glasses, a stocky build, and numerous tattoos on both arms.

Police searched for an eyewitness.

No luck.

The only evidence was a blood pool at the site of the attack.

On April 4, a woman arrived at the police station to file a missing persons report for her daughter, Audrey Harris (33). Audrey’s also a sex worker, but she and her mom had an unbreakable bond. At least once or twice per week Audrey swung by the house. So, three months of silence was highly unusual and out of character.

Something bad happened. Audrey would never shirk her responsibilities.

Detectives interviewed the sex workers in and around High and Arnold Streets. Nobody had any information about Audrey’s disappearance. Soon, police feared Jane’s attack and Audrey’s disappearance could be connected, but they had no evidence to back their theory. And so, they worked the two incidents as separate cases.

On April 11, a week after Audrey’s reported missing, police received news of another woman attacked in the same area. The victim, Christine Dumont, was taken to the hospital. When detectives arrived, Christine was still in shock and badly shaken. While strolling down the same street as Jane, a man pulled curbside and asked if she wanted to party. He drove Christine to the same secluded mill area, where he threw her out of the vehicle, screaming that she’s worthless, she’s wasting her life.

He swung the tire iron at her head.

Christine tried to fight back, but he overpowered her, wailing on her with the tire iron. Certain she would die, Christine lay motionless, praying that the play dead trick would work.

The man fled the area.

When questioned about her attacker, Christine provided a detailed description:

Caucasian male

30’s

Blond hair

Tattooed arms

Stocky build

More and more it looked like this offender could be responsible for Audrey Harris’s disappearance, too.

If it was the same man, his rage centered around sex workers. All unprovoked and spontaneous attacks. He used weapons of opportunity, weapons readily available in his vehicle—screwdriver and tire iron—indicating he hadn’t planned the attacks in advance.

After leaving Christine’s hospital room, police picked up Jane Smith for another interview. During the interview she remembered something. Prior to being attacked that night, the man drove to an ATM and withdrew one-hundred dollars.

ATM machines had surveillance. It’s the break the police needed. They headed straight to the bank. Only one person withdrew exactly one-hundred dollars that night. Detectives searched the footage and found a blond man at the ATM—a perfect match to the description given by Jane and Christine.

The offender’s name is Timothy Scanlon, a local who’d been arrested in the past for larceny and possession of a stolen motor vehicle.

Police created a photo array and headed to the hospital. Christine glanced at the lineup and sobbed, shaking as if he was in the room.

She thrust a finger at Timothy Scanlon’s photo. “That’s the mother[bleep] who attacked me.”

Next, detectives visited Jane Smith. “That’s him,” she cried out. “That’s him!”

Could Scanlon be responsible for the disappearance of Audrey Harris?

All three women were sex workers. All three worked the same area. All three were either attacked or disappeared around the same time.

On April 15, detectives obtained an arrest warrant for two counts of kidnapping, two counts of felony assault. They arrested Scanlon without incident.

In the interview room, Scanlon refused to answer questions. Instead, he asked for an attorney. Nothing could be done except terminate the interview.

At arraignment Scanlon faced multiple felony charges. He pleaded not guilty. The judge refused bail. A defense lawyer claimed Scanlon dated both women on the night in question and dropped them off afterward. They must’ve been assaulted by somebody else. A classic he said/she said argument. Thus, the State needed the victims to testimony at trial. But Jane’s so paralyzed by fear, the thought of testifying made her physically ill. And so, she refused. When the DA spoke to Christine—a little spitfire at one-hundred pounds—she said she wanted to use her attack as a springboard to leap into a new life, to be a better mother to her children, to be a better daughter, to become the person her family could be proud of. So, yeah, she would testify at trial.

Thank goodness she said yes, or the State might not have a provable case.

One Year Later, This True Crime Story Takes an Unexpected Turn

On May 3, 2004, Christine’s sister raced into the police station to report her missing. She hadn’t been seen or heard from in almost ten days. No contact with her kids, no contact with her family. An even louder alarm rang when she failed to pick up her state check.

Timothy Scanlon must’ve had something to do with Christine’s disappearance. Detectives searched the jail’s phone records, incoming and outgoing mail, and visitor list. Nowhere could they find evidence of a murder-for-hire plot, or any attempt to prevent Christine from testifying.

Police dug into Christine’s life. Where was she for the past year? Sadly, they learned Christine returned to the red-light district of High and Arnold Streets. The longing for a new life hadn’t kept her off the streets at night, or from engaging in risky behavior. Detectives interviewed the sex workers in the area to no avail. Days turned into weeks with no solid leads, as if Christine vanished like steam on a bathroom mirror.

What do you think happened? Remember, we’re talking about a small area of 8.6 square miles.

As the investigation progressed, the police continued to talk to the women who worked the red-light district. They even planted decoys, undercover female officers posed as sex workers. The sting resulted in multiple arrests (Johns). Another woman disappeared from the same area, bringing the total to three. Even so, the cases ran cold.

Until July 11, 2004, when the police received an anonymous tip from a male caller.

“Joycelyn Martel was attacked by a guy, and she fits the same category as the girls that are missing. [She] probably has information that you might want.”

Jocelyn’s a known prostitute incarcerated at the women’s prison. Detectives interviewed her, and she said, after the three girls went missing, she started to feel like maybe she could help in the investigation. Maybe a month before the disappearances, she had an incident with a John. He brought her back to his apartment on Kado St., snuck up behind her, and locked her in a chokehold. Somehow, she managed to break free and escape.

When asked to describe the man, she said Caucasian male, late 20s to early 30s, with short hair. But, she added, the way he blitz-attacked seemed like he’d done it before. Jocelyn couldn’t recall the house number but described it as a white multi-family with green shutters and a short white picket-fence out front.

Detectives cruised down Kado Street.

Sure enough, they found a house matching the description. After jotting down the house number, they called the electric company and requested their records. While awaiting the electric company records, detectives searched the database for any incidents involving the address. Right away they got a hit. A sex worker named Teese Morris lodged a complaint, stating she was assaulted at the residence.

Detectives interviewed Teese.

“It was Feb. 15, 2004. It was my birthday and I wanted to go out, I wanted to have fun.”

Teese headed to the local watering hole. At the bar, a man crept up behind her.

“Put your money away,” he said. “I’ll buy you a beer.”

Teese accepted the free drink.

“This man looked like an everyday man. We ended up back at his house. I needed a napkin, and he said, ‘Go to that drawer right there.’ When I opened the drawer [and had her back turned] he pounced. He grabbed me in my neck [a headlock from behind] and it just got tighter. And I’m thinking, okay, he’s not playing.”

Unable to breathe, her fight-or-flight response kicked in.

“I couldn’t get him off my neck. I couldn’t get air. I’m grabbing at his eyes. I’m trying to get at him as I’m thinking to myself, ‘This guy’s gotta get off me. Please get him off me.’ I push all the way back and bend his back on his stove. I went [back] with a lot of force. And I’m begging, I’m screaming, please—my daughter, I gotta see my daughter. He dragged me toward the door and said, ‘If I ever see you outside again, I’ll kill you. I will kill you.'”

He shoved her out the door.

Both Jocelyn and Teese described the assault as a chokehold to render them unconscious. And indeed, this chokehold might be the phase of serial killing that gave him the most pleasure, the most sexual gratification.

Once the electric company records arrived, detectives learned the man’s identity—Jeffrey Mailhot. Unknown to police, Mailhot had no criminal history. No arrests, no red flags, nothing in his background indicated he’d become a dangerous predator. DMV provided a copy of his driver’s license.

“He looked like such an unassuming person,” said one of the detectives. “It was hard to believe that he was even involved with this activity.”

On July 15, Jocelyn chose Jeffrey Mailhot out of the photo array. Teese Morris did, too.

Police still had three missing women, all sex workers: Audrey Harris, Christine Dumont, and Stacie Goulet. Because they had evidence against Mailhot for the violent assaults on Jocelyn and Teese, a judge issued an arrest warrant and a search warrant for his house. Rather than force entry into the premises, detectives waited for Mailhot to arrive home after work. They took him into custody without incident.

The home was orderly and neat.

“We opened up the cupboards and it almost looked like he’d taken a ruler and measured the distance between the glasses. Everything was size-coded, color-coded, alphabetized, it was just super orderly. Jeff Mailhot’s house didn’t look like it supported two assaults, let alone three missing victims. But then we went to the bathroom and looked at the tub and the bottom was just grimy and just ground-in filth. And as the lieutenant grabbed his flashlight, in that area, underneath the tub we could see what was clearly blood splatter. So we sprayed the bathroom with Luminol and you could see a big area of floor fluoresce. This was pooling blood that had been on that surface long enough to seep into grout, which is almost like cement. That’s the most nervous I’ve ever been as a police officer, because I’m standing in a house where there is potential evidence of a serial killer.”

When detectives sat across from Mailhot in the interview room, they tried to develop a rapport with him.

Det: Do you know why you’re here?

Mailhot: No idea. No idea.

Det: Have you ever picked up a prostitute?

Mailhot: I’ve seen them around but I haven’t picked any up.

The detectives played his game for a while. When they brought up the assaults on Jocelyn and Teese, Mailhot admitted to “dating them.”

Mailhot: I’ve gotten a little bit physical.

Detective asked how.

Mailhot: I choked them a little bit.

At that point, the detective laid out three photos of the missing girls. Mailhot’s reaction was to shudder, his hands shaking.

Det: What are getting so nervous for?

Mailhot: Because you think I killed these three girls.

Det: Jeff, I never said they were dead. We only told you we were investigating missing girls.

“You’re playing a dangerous, dangerous game with these girls, and one of them could wind up dead.” The second detective stormed out of the interview room.

The good cop/bad cop routine was well underway. While the lead detective chatted with Mailhot, he looked like he was about to break. So, he called his partner back into the room.

Det: What happened, Jeff? You pushed it too far one night, things got out of hand?

Mailhot agreed.

Det: All of them? All three?

Mailhot: Mm-hm. All three.

Det: Start with Audrey Harris. What happened?

Mailhot: We were just gonna have sex. And then I just choked her.

Det: How?

Mailhot: I came up from behind and put my arm around her neck and wrestled her to the ground and choked her, and she was still breathing, so I stuffed a pillow on her face till she died.

When he woke the next morning, things felt hazy like it’d all been a bad dream. He strolled into the bathroom, and she was sprawled out on the floor. He claimed to be scared at first, but when no one knocked at his door, he figured he’d gotten away with it. His first thought? Hey, I can do it again.

Mailhot: I think alcohol may trigger it, but it’s something inside me.

He spoke of an uncontrollable urge to kill.

Detectives asked about Christine Dumont.

Mailhot: Same thing. I just wrestled her to the ground and choked her till she died.

Once he’d gotten away with two murders, he claimed to be haunted by this urge to kill. So, he picked up Stacie Goulet, choked and strangled her to death.

Mailhot (weeping): Those are the only girls I’ve killed. And I’ve choked up more, like I said, but I’ve never killed anybody else.

He said the biggest thrill of all was not while he was choking them, but when he locked the door, trapping them inside, and knew they couldn’t leave.

Det: Well, where are they? You gonna show us where you put these girls?

Mailhot refused to answer.

An Ominous Ending to This True Crime Story

Det: Where are they, Jeff?

Mailhot: Dead.

The lead detective lunged across the table. “Where are they!”

Mailhot: They’re…they’re in garbage bags.

Det: Garbage bags? Where?

Mailhot: I just dumped them in the trash containers.

Det: How’d you fit them in trash bags?

Mailhot: I cut them up.

Det: You cut them all up? Where?

Mailhot: In my house. In my bathtub.

Det: What’d you cut them up with?

Mailhot: A saw.

Det: What kind of saw?

Mailhot: A hand saw.

He got the idea from an episode of the Sopranos, where they dismembered a body with a hand saw. The media dubbed him “The Sopranos Killer.”

Mailhot said he thought by dumping the body parts in the dumpster all the trash would be taken away, and that would be the end of it. That’s how little he thought of these women. He told detectives exactly how he dismembered each body, with intricate details of where he cut on each body part, which showed the immense pleasure he received from dismemberment.

The District Attorney in the True Crime Story

Even with a compelling and detailed confession, the DA said it could not be used against him without separate evidence to prove these women were murdered. Why the blood evidence wasn’t enough, I have no idea, but he insisted on sending police to the landfill.

Audrey died a year before. Christine’s been dead four months. To say it wasn’t an easy task would be an understatement. Police and forensic personnel dug a search area of 100 yards wide, 100 yards long, and 20 feet deep.

Under a blazing hot sun, on July 24, 2004, a patrol officer was raking this search area and the tooth of the rake tore open a garbage bag.

It looked like hair (on the head) and arms.

Indeed, these parts belonged to a petite female. DNA matched Stacie Goulet. The other two women have never been found. But swabs taken from the base of Mailhot’s bathtub showed a combination of Christine and Audrey’s DNA.

The DA charged Jeffrey Mailhot with three counts of 1^st degree murder and two counts of felonious assault. He pleaded guilty to all five counts. All three murder charges came with a sentence of life without the possibility of parole.

Even though Mailhot spent his nights strangling sex workers, dismembering their bodies, and scattering them in dumpsters around town, he arrived at work the next morning like nothing had happened, like it was just another ordinary day.

True does evil exist in this world, and Jeffrey Mailhot is a prime example.

Imagine all of this occurred in the span of 8.6 sq. miles? What are the chances of a serial killer targeting the only witness willing to testify in a completely different case? The odds must be astronomical. When I ran across this true crime story, I knew I had to share it. What a bizarre coincidence, right? If your curious, Timothy Scanlon got 50 years for rape and felonious assault.