There is a theory held by some criminologists that evil eventually melts out of the body. That if you warehouse a man in jail long enough, he will become harmless. Youth's passions dim. Perversion's fires cool. Old felons may not exactly reform but are defanged by time. It is this theory that Lawrence Singleton contested last week, after his bloody fashion.
Last Wednesday a painter spotted a struggle while working on a neatly kept house in Tampa's working-class Orient Park suburb. Inside, a naked man appeared to be throttling a naked woman. The witness called 911, and when a police officer arrived at the door, he was met by an apparition. Lawrence Singleton, says a neighbor, "came out of the house staggering. His shirt was unbuttoned, and he had blood all over his chest." Apparently drunk, he announced that he had cut himself chopping vegetables. But when he moved casually to answer a ringing phone, the cop saw a bloodied, naked corpse on his living-room floor. After his arrest, Singleton, 69, declared to reporters, "They framed me the first time. But this time I did it."
In fact, Singleton is notorious for "the first time." In 1978 a 15-year-old Las Vegas, Nevada, runaway named Mary Vincent hitched a ride outside San Francisco with a balding man in a blue van. The man approached her sexually, backed off, but later--having liquored up--beat her, bound her and raped her twice. Then he got his ax. He chopped off her arms and left her in a concrete culvert to die. She didn't. The next day, read court records, Vincent was found "wandering nude ... holding up her arms so that the muscles and blood would not fall out." When Singleton, a merchant mariner, was sentenced for the crime, the judge said he wished he could "send him to prison for the rest of his natural life."
The judge couldn't. California law at the time set a maximum of 14 1/3 years for the crimes, with sentence reductions for good behavior and work in prison. Singleton's release after just 8 1/3 years sparked his bizarre drama's second act. As authorities attempted to settle him in one Bay Area town after another, angry crowds screamed, picketed and eventually prevailed. Singleton ended up spending the rest of his parole in a trailer on the grounds of San Quentin prison.
Further enraging Californians were Singleton's claims to innocence and his absurd threat of a forcible-kidnap complaint against Vincent. (She won $2.56 million from him in a civil suit, but he had no funds.) When Singleton moved in 1988 to his native Florida, the reception was equally hostile. A Tampa car dealer offered him $5,000 to get out of the state, and a firebomb exploded on his lawn. He had more luck later in Orient Park, where he moved into a house owned by his family. Some neighbors were ignorant of his past. Others felt sure Singleton had put it behind him. He proffered small gifts and helped out with tasks. "He was the kind of person who, when his cat walked on my car, would wash the whole car," says Corene Bennett, who lives next door. "We fixed him a plate for Thanksgiving."