Edna Martin’s Troubling Encounter with Ted Bundy

In late 1975, Edna Martin was driving her cousin through Seattle when she stopped for a moment, leaving him alone in the car. Upon her return, she found a crowd gathered around him. With arms raised and an unsettling smile, he proclaimed, “I’m Ted Bundy.”

This law student had been arrested just months earlier in Utah, being linked to several kidnappings and murders. He bore a striking resemblance to the suspect police were searching for. Still, his family doubted he could be involved, insisting it was a mistake.

After covering his mouth, Martin hurried him back to the car. The ride home was filled with silence, broken only by a quick glance at him—he was smiling. Odd, given the circumstances.

Martin recalls feeling her heart sink at that moment. Gradually, it sunk in that this accusation might actually hold weight. The thought of him lurching at her made her wonder if she should crash the car. When he exited the vehicle once they reached his house, she slumped over the steering wheel, realizing her worst fear: “He did it.” Her family, she recalls, was in disbelief. “No way, this must be a mistake,” they said. “Maybe he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

A family insurance broker highlighted the difficulty his loved ones faced in accepting that the boy they once knew—outgoing, fond of fishing—could become a killer. Repeatedly they comforted themselves with, “It can’t be like that.”

Martin, now 74, expressed a desire to meet Bundy to hear his story. Reflecting on their relationship, she acknowledges, “The Ted I thought I knew wasn’t the Ted I was with.” The comfort she felt transformed into fear as she grappled with his duality.

Her story is told in Oxygen’s recent documentary, “Love, Ted Bundy.” It chronicles how this infamous serial killer built a childhood bond with his cousin, a bond that unraveled as the “evil man” surfaced, haunting her for decades.

Bundy confessed to murdering numerous young women across several states during the 1970s. For Martin, the numbers are staggering, not just abstract figures; each victim had a story—daughters, sisters, friends. “We looked just like the girls he started killing,” she noted.

Martin describes Bundy as kind during their early years together. When his family moved to her area, he lived nearby, giving her a sense of security. “I looked up to him like a big brother,” she said. However, she noted an unsettling instance where his demeanor changed around her friends. His face suddenly hardened, a chilling transformation that startled her.

Reflecting on Bundy’s troubled background, Martin speculated on how his upbringing shaped him. With an absence of knowledge about his biological father, Bundy may have struggled internally. “Maybe he was searching for a connection,” she mused. It’s possible his upbringing, fraught with secrecy and stigma, pushed him down a dark path.

Memories flood back for Martin, especially the call she received in Alaska about Bundy’s arrest. The disbelief was overwhelming; her understanding of reality felt uprooted. “How could everything I knew about someone be so wrong?” she recalled, expressing how that shattered her ability to trust others.

In a chilling recollection, she recounted a conversation Bundy had while in jail concerning states with strict death penalty laws—a conversation that hinted at an awareness of his fate.

By January 1978, the FBI had shown up at her door. Bundy fled, leading Martin to contemplate his motivations and whether he had a “death wish.” She admits to never uncovering the truth. Shortly after, he committed horrific acts in Florida, killing two sorority sisters and later abducting a young girl named Kimberly Leach, his final victim.

After numerous letters filled with questions about his crimes, Bundy often remained silent in his responses. His execution in 1989 brought some closure for Martin, but her questions lingered.

Decades down the line, she reflected on how that experience impacted her worldview. “I really loved that person,” she said. “But I didn’t love that evil man.” The trauma was profound, teaching her that burying it only prolongs the hurt.

Oxygen’s “Love, Ted Bundy” is set to air on February 15th at 6 p.m.