Horror Show
Twenty-four-year-old Tiffany Ewell—a sharp dresser and good looking girl who, at one time, strikingly resembled Princess Diana with her shortly cropped dirty blond hair, ear-to-ear smile, large, all-encompassing eyes and a thin, perfect little nose—had been shot in the back of the head.
Tiffany Ewell
Execution style.
Tiffany had been found in the kitchen on the linoleum floor. The poor thing probably didn't even know—thank goodness—what hit her.
"I noticed the kitchen door was closed," the housekeeper recalled in court years later, "I opened it. That's when I saw Tiffany."
Dale Ewell
Tiffany and Dana Ewell's father, fifty-nine-year-old Dale, had been found face down in a hallway leading into the kitchen. Mr. Ewell's hands were underneath his body; his right ankle crossed over his left. The hallway walls near Dale Ewell's bloodied corpse were pocked with tiny specks of red against the white paint—the remnants, or blowback, from the gun blast that had killed Dale instantly.
Tiffany was dressed in a blue shirt and blue jeans. Her face, as she lay dead on the kitchen floor, was covered over by her hair, which was tacky—blood—to the touch, as if she had conditioned her hair but not washed the conditioner out. There was a gray jacket next to her, but it appeared to have been tossed there—or placed—after the fact.
Save for the bodies themselves, around Tiffany was perhaps the most chilling sight any of the detectives had seen since entering the house: a pool of blood about the size of car tire.
My God.
Still, in another part of the house, not too far from where Dale and Tiffany had been found, it was Glee Ewell's body that intrigued detectives most.