Victim's wish: 'I wanted to look into his eyes'

But the death in prison of the man who maimed her stole a victim's chance to quell the demons of memory.

By BILL VARIAN, Times Staff Writer
© St. Petersburg Times
published January 16, 2002

In the darkness, when she closes her eyes, Mary Vincent can see her hands again, just as they were when she was 15 years old.

But her dreams betray her every September, with vivid replays of the attack that appalled the nation.

The dreams come faintly at first. Each passing night makes them stronger. Until the final night, Sept. 29. And then they pass.

"This past year, I was so busy that I forgot the date," Vincent said. "But when I'm sleeping, my subconscious mind remembers."

Vincent, 38, said the death by natural causes two weeks ago of Lawrence Singleton, the man who raped her 23 years ago and hacked off her forearms, will do little to quiet her nightmares. Two decades of anniversaries, and knowing that Singleton went on to kill again in Tampa, have taught her that.

If anything, Vincent said, she is angry. She wanted to look one more time at the man who mutilated her.

"I wanted to look into his eyes," Vincent said. "But now I won't be able to find out whatever it was I was looking for. I feel like I was cheated again."

Vincent said she still has not heard officially that Singleton has died. She had hoped to be notified before he died, even if it was not by the death sentence he was given for killing a Tampa prostitute in 1997. Instead, she learned of his death from an acquaintance while visiting California.

A Florida Department of Corrections official said a letter was mailed to Vincent's last known address three days after Singleton's death. It's possible the address was outdated, and the prison system is unable to track victims' whereabouts unless it is notified, said the department's spokeswoman Debbie Buchanan.

Buchanan said the corrections department is not permitted to let anyone know whether a criminal has a terminal disease. "Legally, we can't do that," Buchanan said. "We're not allowed to release medical information because it's not public."

Singleton, 74, died of an unspecified form of cancer Dec. 28 at the North Florida Reception Center near Starke. He was on death row at the Union Correctional Institution in nearby Raiford.

His story lives in infamy on both of the nation's coasts. And Vincent is bound to it as one of the nation's most famous crime victims.

Singleton was driving near Berkeley, Calif., on Sept. 29, 1978, when he pulled alongside Vincent, who was 15 at the time and hitchhiking. He gave her a ride.

The former merchant seaman slammed Vincent on the head, raped her repeatedly and then chopped off her forearms with a hatchet. He left her to die in a roadside drainage ditch.

The attack drew public outrage. So did Singleton's release on parole after serving eight years of a 14-year sentence. Vincent went into hiding in Washington state, fearing Singleton would make good on a threat to finish the job.

Protesters followed Singleton from town to town in California. He later moved to Tampa, where he had family members, and again drew protests.

Nearly two decades after his attack on Vincent, Singleton, then 69, killed 31-year-old prostitute Roxanne Hayes in his Orient Park home. Hayes, a mother of three, was stabbed repeatedly.

Prosecutors persuaded Vincent to come out of hiding to testify against Singleton at his sentencing hearing. In the trial's most dramatic moment, she pointed him out with one of her prosthetic hands. A rapt jury recommended the death sentence, which a judge granted.

The years have been tough for Vincent. The day Singleton died, she was in California finalizing her second divorce.

Her first marriage ended largely because of strains on the family after Singleton was first released from prison, Vincent said. Then, like this time, she retreated to the Tacoma area of Washington state, a place she likes for its serenity and beauty.

Vincent has two teenage sons: Luke, 15, and Alan, 13. They live in an apartment in Gig Harbor, Wash.

Vincent never finished school. Today she is jobless, and largely gets by with government aid.

"Every day, I've got to say tons of prayers just to get out of bed," she said. "The only thing keeping me alive are my two boys."

There are better days. With the aid of a prosthetic device, she can bowl. She also draws. Vincent has drawn herself twice, once just head and shoulders, the second time from her waist up. She hopes soon to have a gallery show.

People tell her she comes across as cheerful. She tries to be. Her answering machine reveals a sense of humor, and perhaps more about herself: "Hey, I'm lost and I've gone to look for myself," the greeting says. "If I should return before I get back, please ask me to wait."

But the attack nearly two decades ago continues to shape her outlook. When Vincent testified against Singleton during his sentencing in Tampa, she said she did not support the death penalty.

"Back then, that was like playing God and I don't believe in that," Vincent said. "I was hanging on to the last strand of calmness, and the peaceful side of myself. If you were to ask that question now, my heart's a little harder."

- Times researcher John Martin contributed to this report.

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