On Thursday, 30 years to the day serial killer Theodore “Ted” Bundy met his end in a Florida State Prison electric chair, Netflix released a docuseries that's revived interest in a case that both horrified and bewitched 1970s America.

“Conversations with a Killer: The Ted Bundy Tapes” revisits the former law student's crimes through numerous hours of taped interviews as he sat on death row. Bundy wasn't tried for the majority of the killings to which he was linked — more than 30 — but stood trial in Miami in June 1979 for the murders of two Florida State University students.

For the Florida lawyers assigned to prosecute and defend Bundy, his case presented a crucial learning curve.

Prosecutor Larry D. Simpson. Courtesy photo.

It was a ”once-in-a-lifetime case” for Larry D. Simpson, a former prosecutor for the state attorney's office in Tallahassee.

“I just happened to be in the right place at the right time,” said Simpson, who was just 29 when he got the assignment — four years out of law school.

Bite marks, semen, hair and fiber samples sent Simpson down a scientific rabbit hole from which he's never fully emerged.

“The Bundy case was really a deep dive into forensic science,” Simpson said. “Once you have your eyes open to that type of evidence, it's extremely powerful in the court, and I really enjoyed working with it, learning about it and explaining it to a jury.”

Soon after, Simpson transitioned to private practice, where he stayed with partner Jimmy Judkins for more than 35 years, splitting time between criminal and civil cases. He often represented agricultural companies in products liability cases, the outcome of which hinged on scientific evidence.

Simpson is semi-retired, having decided two years ago, “I'd probably practiced about as much as I wanted to.” If he's not working on cases from home, Simpson is traveling to Pittsburgh and Atlanta to see his grandchildren, or sightseeing across the U.S. with his wife.

'A case that doesn't go away'

Michael Minerva, former Tallahassee public defender. Courtesy photo.

Michael Minerva, then-Tallahassee public defender, represented Bundy when he faced murder charges in Miami and never expected the case to have a 40-year shelf life.

“I had no idea. Right after the trial and the execution, there was a flurry of books and then it was kind of dormant for a long time. Now it's like it happened yesterday,” Minerva said. “It's a case that doesn't go away.”

That said, it was Minerva's first televised case — an intimidating prospect, not unlike competitive sports.

“It's like all this tension that you get before the game begins, but then once it starts you're absorbed in doing it and you don't really think about the tension and the anxiety you felt beforehand,” Minerva said.

Bundy fired Minerva before he could finalize a deal that would have allowed the killer to swap execution for 75 years in prison.

Minerva lost his re-election bid after representing Bundy, then served as general counsel for the department of corrections and later became head of Capital Collateral Regional Counsel, working on post-conviction cases for death row inmates. As an appellate lawyer, he worked on the Florida Supreme Court case Allen v. Butterworth, which overturned the Death Penalty Reform Act of 2000 that restricted the rights of death row inmates litigating their cases.

Minerva then ended his career as an assistant, back at the public defender's office. He retired in 2001 but was soon recruited by the Innocence Project of Florida, advising staff on litigation. He retired — for good — in 2013, and has remained in a small town near Jacksonville, catching up on everything he never had time to read.

|

Related story: Sentencing Judge Said Serial Killer Ted Bundy Would Have Made a Great Lawyer, Tapes Reveal

|

The 'Prettiest' Serial Killer

George R. “Bob” Dekle, former assistant state attorney in Tallahassee, 1978. Courtesy photo.

George R. “Bob” Dekle, former assistant state attorney in Tallahassee, has been featured on four Bundy documentaries and said he too is amazed there's still such interest in the case.

“There has been so much crime and so many horrible people that have done such terrible things since then that it seems like [Bundy] would be forgotten by now,” Dekle said. “He's probably the prettiest and most articulate of the serial killers, and that may be why his story's got staying power.”

Dekle prosecuted Bundy in a third criminal trial over the murder of Kimberly Leach and later witnessed his execution.

“As the electricity coursed through his body you see his fist tighten. … And I remember thinking at the time, I wonder how many throats that fist has tightened around,” Dekle said in the Netflix docuseries.

George R. “Bob” Dekle being interviewed by reporters at the scene where Kim Leach's body was found. Photo: Lake City Reporter.

For Dekle, Bundy's case was a crash course in lawyering and forensic science. After all, the only section of the crime lab that wasn't involved in the case was firearms.

“I learned more about how to be a lawyer in the two years that I spent preparing and trying this case than I did in the three years I spent in law school and the five years I had spent practicing law,” Dekle said.

According to Dekle, the cases that came after Bundy impacted him most profoundly, because prosecuting crime in a small town meant most victims were people he knew.

One case involved his wife's co-worker, murdered after walking in on daytime burglars. Another concerned the kidnap and murder of an agricultural inspector Dekle knew well. For that death, Dekle prosecuted a drug-smuggling ring made up of Chicago police officers.

“Whenever you're doing something like that it really tears you up,” he said.

Dekle stayed in his post until 2005 when he left to pursue his dream job — teaching law students how to prosecute cases at the University of Florida. He's also written several books, including a law textbook and a memoir on the Bundy case. His next book, slated for May, is about morphine murderer Carlyle Harris, who Dekle described as “a gilded-age Ted Bundy.”

More criminal law stories: