The Fast Food Killer | Paul Reid
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Four young kids at a Texas bowling alley learned that lesson the hard way and paid the ultimate price when one of them simply unlocked the door. 18-year-old Greg Garner was bowling his last few frames at Windfern Fairlanes, a bowling alley off Route 290 in Houston. It was 1980. Jimmy Carter was the president and Pink Floyd had the year's top selling record.

It was customary for the Fairlane's manager, Stephen Sims, to lock the door once the lane officially closed. Anyone inside could keep bowling until their time expired. After all, it'd be rude to kick them out mid-frame. While Sims locked up, 17-year-old Tommy Temple finished up his own closing duties. His girlfriend, Elaine, waited patiently, perhaps even resenting Greg for keeping the staff past close.

A knock on the locked door stole their attention. Someone robbed the bowling alley the night before, so Sims and Tommy were already on edge. A six-foot, clean-shaven white man with collar-length hair stood on the other side. He complained about car troubles and asked for a pitcher of water to remedy the situation. Perhaps his engine overheated, or maybe he just needed to clean off his windshield. Either way, Sims opened the door and followed the man back to his car.

Moments later, Sims returned with a gun pressed into his back. The man ordered Tommy, Elaine, and Greg to get down on the floor. Then he forced Sims to open the cash register. All four feared for their lives, but none ever screamed. And though the man brandished a pistol, he never laid a finger on them. If they kept their heads down and mouths shut, maybe they'd make it out of here alive.

Then, without warning, the man shot Elaine in the back of the head, execution style. He moved on to Sims, putting a single bullet in the back of his head. Greg and Tommy suffered the same fate before the man stole their wallets and ran out the front door.

Moments later, Greg regained consciousness. The bullet went through his skull and blew out his left eye. He stood up, covered his eye, and hobbled to the control booth to make a phone call. Houston didn't have a dedicated emergency number at the time, so Greg called his mother, Nellie, instead. He hung up and collapsed next to Elaine, the only other victim still alive at this point.

Unfortunately, she passed moments later, leaving Greg afraid and alone until the police finally arrived. They searched high and low for clues, but never found anything linking a suspect to the bloodbath. All the police had to work with was Greg's harrowing eyewitness account, though blind in one eye. Greg insisted he could identify the killer if he ever saw him again.

Over 40 years removed from the Fairlands massacre, the victims and their families still don't have a clear picture of who killed Tommy, Sims, and Elaine. The man who confessed to the crime, Max Sofar, died on death row in 2016. But there's credible evidence that he may have died an innocent man. In reality, all fingers point to one of the most merciless serial killers in American history.

A man who'd go on to murder seven people between February and April 1997, executing them on their workplace floor and robbing the cash register for a few thousand bucks. His name is Paul Dennis Reid, the fast food killer. Part one, a life of crime. While it's hard to feel sympathy for a man like Reid, you can't ignore the common red flags that force some people toward the most heinous acts imaginable.

Reed was born in Richland Hills, Texas, a small city established on the heels of World War II. The 9,000 person town didn't have much to brag about aside from Boyd Bartley, an old school shortstop for the Brooklyn Dodgers. The fast food killer is the only notable person to come out of Richland Hills.

Reed's parents split when he was three and, like most soon-to-be serial killers, his father developed a drinking problem. To get away from his abusive father, Reed spent most of his time with his grandmother, a woman who'd ultimately become his first victim. He tortured the old woman, putting tacks in her food and spraying her with a garden hose. He locked her inside her bedroom and, at one point, tried to light her on fire in her sleep.

By eight years old, Reed was out of control. His parents sent him to a school for troubled youth, but it did little to reform the maturing boy.

He grew into his sexually confused teenage years and after trying to sexually assault his mother and sisters, Reed's parents kicked him out of the house for good. With nowhere left to go, Reed turned toward a life of crime. His first arrest came shortly after getting kicked out of the house when the police picked him up for stealing a car. By the early 80s, Reed was committing armed robberies almost every weekend. According to his partner in crime, Stuart Cook,

The duo committed between 30 and 40 robberies across the Houston area between 1981 and 1982. They had a simple, rational plan.

hit business on the weekend when there's probably more cash in the register and show up near closing time to ensure minimal witnesses. By then, the employees would be too tired to fight back. However, one employee at a home improvement store wasn't going down without a fight. He chased Reed and Cook on a bicycle and quickly caught up to the on-foot robbers. But once he was in range, Reed pulled a pistol and shot back at him.

The employee stopped his pursuit, not wanting to risk his life over a few thousand bucks. Reed and Cook got away. Once they were safe, Cook demanded to know why Reed pulled his gun. Killing anyone was never part of the plan, but Reed brushed it off, mentioning how he'd done much worse while robbing a bowling alley on Route 290. If that wasn't enough of a confession, Reed even told Cook that he'd shot four people.

Cook never brought it up again, perhaps afraid that Reed could fly off the rails at any time. The two kept hitting restaurants and hardware stores until 1983, when police finally caught up with the monster-to-be. An armed robbery at a Houston steakhouse didn't go as planned, and a jury sentenced Reed to 20 years in prison. However, overcrowding led to his release seven years later. Reed hit the streets once again, only this time working as a truck driver.

Perhaps he turned over a new leaf, finally deciding to walk the straight and narrow instead of robbing teenage cashiers at gunpoint. If he did, it didn't last long. While on the job, Reed was involved in a nasty car accident that left him unable to work. He won a $25,000 worker's comp settlement and spent the money on cosmetic surgery to fix his teeth. You see,

Reed had new aspirations at this point. He wanted to be a country music star, the next Garth Brooks. But Garth didn't have gross crooked teeth. To pursue his dream, Reed moved out to the country music capital of the world, Nashville, Tennessee, in 1995.

He donned the cowboy look and created a fun stage persona known as Justin Parks. Unfortunately, Reed was about as talented as the gum on the bottom of his boot. According to Shelley Phelps, the soulful frontwoman of Shelley Phelps and the Storm,

Reed wanted to record a demo in 1994. He needed something to bring to Nashville, and his guitar teacher recommended Shelly to sing some vocal melodies. He warned that Reed was an awful singer. Still, his checks didn't bounce, and Shelly needed the money. They recorded four songs, each one worse than the last. Shelly and the others felt bad taking Reed's money, given how awful he was at singing.

They knew he'd get eaten alive in Nashville, but nobody had the guts to tell him. Little did they know the hellstorm that was about to unfold. Reed moved out to Nashville, but reality smothered his dreams within a month. Soon, he found himself working a dead-end dishwasher gig at Shoney's, a chain of family-style restaurants in Nashville on the brink of bankruptcy.

They just settled a $105 million class action lawsuit for racial discrimination, the largest discrimination settlement ever handed down at the time. Embroiled in controversy, it's no wonder a guy like Reed could walk into the building and fill an open position. But exchanging his cowboy hat for a chef's apron wasn't the dream job he had in mind.

By 1997, Reed was back to his armed robbery roots. Only this time, he planned on acting alone. His old pal Cook wasn't there to help control his trigger finger anymore. Part two, the Captain D's murders. On February 15th, 1997, two employees at Captain D's restaurant in Nashville got ready to close shop.

The fast, casual seafood restaurant opened as Mr. D's Seafood and Hamburgers in 1969, headed by a Shoney's franchisee that had trouble expanding his territory. Coincidentally, Captain D's found themselves involved in the same racial discrimination lawsuit targeting Shoney's and all associated businesses.

As Mike Butterworth and Jason Carter locked the doors, Paul Reed walked up with a simple request. He said he was a Shoney's employee who needed a change of scenery. Then he asked about applying for a job. The boys were perhaps confused when Reed didn't fill out an application right then and there. Instead, Reed asked if anyone would be in the restaurant the following day. Mike said, "Yes, the manager."

before leaving. Reed grabbed an application, intending to drop it off in the morning. Meanwhile, 16-year-old Sarah Jackson enjoyed dinner with 25-year-old Steve Hampton, his wife, and their three young children. Both worked at Captain D's, Sarah as a part-time employee and Steve as a full-time manager. He'd clawed his way up the corporate ladder from dishwasher to manager. She was a straight-A student working part-time at the restaurant.

Court documents don't dive deeper into their relationship, nor explain why she was over for dinner that night. Though, there's no reason to suspect any questionable activity. Steve left for work around 6 a.m. with $600 in his pocket to pay the rent. Sarah met him at the restaurant, and the two got ready to open for the morning rush. Normally, Captain D's opened promptly at 10 a.m.,

but a woman named Debbie Hines drove by on her way to church and saw two men standing at the front door around nine. She recognized Steve, but didn't know who the second man was. She could only describe him as a white male holding a piece of paper, a job application.

A half hour later, Mike showed up for his morning shift. However, when he opened the front door, it was still locked. He looked through the windows to see the chairs still on the tables as if nobody had come to open the restaurant that morning. He walked around back and pounded on the rear door. Something was off. He just knew it. Steve was as punctual a manager as ever. He wouldn't just bail on his morning shift.

nerves turned to fear. So Mike drove to a nearby business and asked to borrow their phone. He used the phone to call Captain Dees. The phone rang and rang and rang, but nobody ever picked up. Finally, he called the police to see if they could figure out what was going on.

Nashville police arrived between 11 and noon to find Steve and Sarah face down in the walk-in cooler. Reed killed them execution style, shooting Sarah four times in the back of the head and once in the back.

Meanwhile, Steve died from two gunshot wounds to the head and one to the back. Medical examiners determined the killer used a .32 caliber revolver to kill both victims, a gun that only holds six shots. That means Reed had to reload to fire all eight shots, a fact of his case that would come back to bite him.

Ultimately, Reed made off with just $7,000, including $250 in coins and Steve's $600 in rent money. Part 3: The McDonald's Murders About a month before the slayings at Captain D's, Reed was in the market for a new gun. Of course, a guy with Reed's criminal history wasn't about to walk into any old gun store and buy a gun.

Instead, he sought out a truck driver named Robert Bolin, someone Reed knew could get him a new gun on the down low. So, like a sadistic child on Christmas, Reed asked Bolin for a .25 caliber automatic handgun. He didn't like how his .32 was shooting and wanted something with a clip, something he didn't have to reload.

Boland delivered, selling Reed two .25 calibers, a nickel-plated Davis .25, and a nickel-plated automatic with pink handles. A month after the Captain D's killings, Reed had a new target in mind. The night shift finally ended at a McDonald's on Lebanon Road in Nashville, Tennessee. The media was still buzzing about the murders at Captain D's, which was basically a stone's throw away.

- Reynaldo Santiago, Andrea Brown, Robert Sewell, and Jose Ramirez Gonzalez finished their closing duties, grabbing their belongings and headed for the parking lot. Sewell and Gonzalez left first, saying goodbye to Santiago standing in the doorway.

However, the co-workers didn't make it very far when Reed ordered them back inside armed with one of his new handguns. Gonzalez didn't understand much English, so Santiago had to translate the terrifying demands. Still, a pistol looks the same in every language. The three men didn't put up a fight and went back inside the restaurant, where Brown was oblivious to the situation.

Reed forced the quartet into the office and demanded they open the safe. Of course, a safe full of corporate money wasn't worth their lives, so Santiago obliged. Unfortunately, Reed had other plans. He moved the group to a storage room and ordered them to lay face down on the floor. They heard the horror stories about Captain D's and perhaps never thought it could happen to them. Once Reed forced them to the floor, all four knew what would happen next.

Reed put two bullets in the back of Santiago's head before doing the same to Brown and Sewell. However, once Reed got to Gonzalez, his gun jammed. Knowing he had to make a split second decision, Gonzalez fought back. He wrestled with Reed, but the fast food killer overpowered him, grabbed a knife and drove it into his stomach. Reed then stabbed Gonzalez 16 more times before he collapsed to the ground and, convinced he'd killed them all, Reed fled with the money.

But Gonzales was still alive, and so was Brown. With every last bit of energy, Gonzales crawled to the phone and dialed 911. Paramedics arrived and rushed the survivors to the hospital. While surgeons worked through the night to save Gonzales, there was nothing they could do for 17-year-old Brown. She died of brain damage, and the doctors took her off life support.

Back on the scene, detectives found casings from a .25 caliber pistol, but no fingerprints. All they had to go on were the similarities between the McDonald's and Captain D's killings. Gonzalez was their ace in the hole. They might have something if he pulled through and could accurately describe the killer. In just five weeks, Nashville homicide detectives dealt with five dead bodies between two nearly identical robberies.

They had a few composite sketches of a robust, mustachioed man wearing a baseball cap, but plenty of Nashville men fit that description. Instead, they turned their attention toward Gonzales, who made a slow recovery. He was in rough shape and could hardly talk. However, gestures turned to grunts, and grunts turned to words. Soon, Gonzales gave the police an accurate description of his attacker.

but his description didn't align perfectly with the other sketches. Still, the police took the information public, but with no suspects, all they could do was sit and wait. Unfortunately, Reed would strike for the final time exactly one month later. Part 4. The Baskin-Robbins Murders

It was closing time at a Baskin Robbins on Wilma Rudolph Boulevard in Clarksville, Tennessee, about an hour's drive outside of Nashville. Perhaps ignorant of the fast food killer stalking their neighboring town, 16-year-old Michelle Mace and 21-year-old Angela Holmes only thought about their after work plans.

There was one final customer in the store, a woman named LaVada Zimmerman, who'd been there since 9:20. It was 10 o'clock and time to leave. However, before she left, an obnoxious middle-aged man walked in and started complaining about the prices.

He left without buying anything, and Zimmerman walked out shortly after. The last thing she remembered seeing was a shiny red car parked in the lot. Ten minutes later, at about 10:10 PM, Michelle's brother, Craig, showed up to pick up his sister. Craig grew suspicious when Michelle didn't come running out. He noticed Angela's car was still in the parking lot and figured he'd move in for a closer look.

The lights were on, so someone must have been there. Maybe a rude customer staying past the welcome, but Craig didn't see anybody when he looked through the window. The Baskin Robbins was a ghost town. He went around back and entered the restaurant through an unlocked door. Upon confirming his suspicions, he called 911.

Officers arrived shortly after and searched high and low for any clues. The cash register was empty and a safe in the office was open and robbed. Someone also left the freezer open and the mop bucket out. Yet, perhaps the most inconsistent pieces of evidence were Michelle and Angela's purses. They were still on the hooks, not a dollar removed.

The next morning on April 24th, 1997, search parties found Michelle and Angela's bodies about three miles away in Montgomery County. Both girls suffered deep stab wounds across their bodies. The final autopsy report suggested that they bled to death. Part five, kidnapping Mitchell Roberts. Police ran into dead ends at every turn.

the fast food killer stayed one step ahead of the investigation. And even though they could lift a partial fingerprint here and a shoe print there, they couldn't tie them to anybody. According to one report, some officers even went undercover posing as fast food employees, hoping Reed would walk through the doors and try to rob the place.

But Reed kept quiet until June 1st, 1997, when he changed tactics completely. Instead of walking into an about to close restaurant and murdering the staff before robbing the register, Reed paid an old acquaintance a visit. Mitchell Roberts was the manager at Shoney's and Reed's old boss. Unfortunately, their relationship ended on a sour note after Roberts fired Reed back in February, 11 days before he opened fire on Captain Dees.

Roberts was playing with his son when Reed pulled up in his shiny red car. Maybe Reed was ready to put this all behind him? The police presence may have been too hot, and Reed knew his next robbery could be his last. Unfortunately, hiring Reed back wasn't so simple. As you can imagine, Reed wasn't a model employee.

At one point, Reed tried to convince his coworker, Danny Tackett, that they could easily rob Shoney's if they just showed up in the middle of the night. Before getting fired, Reed went off about how much he hated his job and robbery was the only way to make real money. Reed was a cancer in a toxic environment. The only way to eliminate the cancer is to cut it out. Roberts wanted Reed off his property as soon as possible. So he walked his former employee back to the shiny red car.

Then, things took a turn for the worse. Reed pulled a gun and ordered Roberts to get him. But Roberts knew getting in that car was probably a death sentence. So he ran back to his house and made it through the front door. Reed didn't see much sense in chasing after him. Instead, he drove off empty-handed. The police arrived minutes later, and Roberts recanted the entire story. Then, something strange happened.

Reed called Mitchell wanting to apologize. With the cops to keep him safe, Roberts told Reed he could come back, and as soon as the fast food killer stepped in range, officers tackled him to the ground. Capturing Reed was the final piece of the evidence puzzle, while Reed left plenty of usable evidence behind at each scene, like finger and shoe prints between all three locations. His profile was never in the Nashville system.

Police matched Reed's prints to one left behind at Captain D's. Only, this print wasn't on any physical objects in the restaurant. It was on Steve Hampton's movie rental card. Police found the card after Reed discarded it once he left Captain D's, now in custody. Police brought everyone in for questioning that saw Reed before the murders. Butterworth and Carter, the employees from Captain D's, had mixed results.

Police showed them six images of different men with Reed mixed among them. Butterworth couldn't make a positive idea at the time, but Carter picked Reed out in a heartbeat. But once Butterworth heard Reed's voice, he knew he was the man that walked into the restaurant the night before the murders. However, the most important identification came from Jose Gonzalez, the lone survivor of the McDonald's massacre. Once Gonzalez was well enough to leave the hospital, he went to the station and looked at a lineup.

Detective Pat Postiglione showed Gonzales six pictures that all resembled Reed. Of course, Reed himself was mixed in among the photos. Gonzales picked Reed out of the lineup, telling detectives that he was 95% sure Reed was the man who almost killed him that night. Clearly, 95 was enough to formally arrest and charge Reed with the fast food murders. On his way to the police station, Reed toyed with the idea of shielding his face from the media.

Ultimately, he decided against it and looked right into the camera before walking into the station. Between the physical evidence and eyewitness testimonies, the Nashville judicial system had Reed dead to rights. In the spring of 1999, only a few years after traveling across the country to pursue his dream of becoming a country music star,

a Nashville judge handed Paul Reed seven death sentences, one for each of his seven victims. However, that wasn't the end of the fast food killer saga. The state delayed Reed's execution several times, at one point calling it off only a few hours before. His case also drew the attention of many anti-death penalty activists, citing Reed's extensive history of mental illness as reason enough to permanently stay his execution.

Reid's family felt the same way, specifically his sister, Linda, who testified that Reid wasn't mentally fit to stand trial. He displayed signs of paranoia at his trial, believing that his defense team were actors in a secret government mind-control operation called "scientific technology." However, the prosecution argued back, saying Reid was a clever con artist trying to pass himself off as insane.

Reed went there to kill those people, bringing enough ammo to do the job. Remember, he had to reload at Captain D's. Ultimately, the fast food killer never felt the cold needle. In the fall of 2013, Reed passed away on death row at 55 years old. According to the ME's report, pneumonia, heart failure, and upper respiratory issues got the best of him.

Angela Mace's mother, Connie, felt no relief when she heard the news. To her, Reed got to die like anyone should, surrounded by family. Her daughter didn't get that privilege. It wasn't supposed to happen this way. Part 6. An Innocent Man on Death Row While Reed's death closed the book on a string of horrific murders in Nashville, Tennessee, there's one loose end that still doesn't add up.

dating all the way back to July 1980 at a bowling alley in Houston, Texas. While Reed got busy robbing fast food chains and executing their young staff, Max, so far, sat on death row for a crime he may not have committed. We can't say for sure whether or not Sofar was an innocent man, but the facts paint an entirely different picture of what happened at Fairlane's bowling on July 13th, 1980. Let's begin with the M.O.

MO, or modus operandi, is a Latin term that describes a person or group's habitual way of operating to the point that it forms a pattern. You'll hear police say how a crime doesn't fit the MO when wondering if two different scenes are connected. In Reed's case, his MO was well-defined.

Target a restaurant when they're closed, but while the employees are still there, either right before opening or right before closing. Forcefully enter the store and hold the staff at gunpoint. Force them to lay on their stomachs and get whoever's in charge to open the register. Execute each employee with a gunshot to the back of the head.

While Reed occasionally strayed from this M.O., for example, when he kidnapped Mace and Holmes, most of the other pieces lined up. So, let's reapply Reed's M.O. to the Fairlane's massacre. A man arrived shortly after closing and forced his way into the bowling alley. He forced the manager, Sims, to open the register before making all four victims lay flat on their stomachs.

He stole as much money as possible and then put a bullet in the back of their heads. While the M.O. evidence is compelling, let's chalk it up to a coincidence for the sake of argument. After all, Sofar could have written the playbook for Reed to follow. Let's instead turn to the surviving witness from Fairlanes, Greg Garner. Greg described the killer as a white man just over six feet tall. He had light brown hair combed back to reveal his entire forehead.

His hair fell below his ears on the side and extended to the back to kiss his collar. He was stronger and heavier than Garner, who only weighed 155 pounds. Most of all, the killer had no facial hair. That description almost fits Paul Reed to a T. The only thing that's missing is Reed's iconic mustache. However, in July of 1980, that mustache didn't exist.

A week after the Fairlane's murders, Reed got married in Houston. A photograph from his wedding shows the fast food killer perfectly clean-shaven. Let's stay on this clean-shaven description for now. When police arrested Sofar, he looked like he just left Woodstock. He had long brown hair that extended below his shoulders. Most of all, he had a full beard.

So not only did the crime fit Reed's MO, but Garner's description of the killer accurately described Paul Reed. More importantly, it was the opposite description of Max so far. But let's keep going. Reed and his buddy, Stuart Cook, committed between 30 and 40 robberies in the Houston area between 1981 and 1982. And when one employee decided to fight back, Reed had no issue openning up his case.

When Cook questioned him, Reed said he'd done much worse, even shooting four people at a bowling alley on Route 290. With all that said, why did Sofar confess to the crime? This Fairlanes murder and robbery store was in every newspaper in Houston. The city was enraged, wanting to find the man responsible as soon as possible. Police put out a $15,000 reward for anyone with the information, leading to the killer's capture and arrest.

down on his luck, Sofar wanted to cash in on the reward while driving to the doctor's office with his sister on August 1st, 1980. Sofar told her that the composite sketch looked like his friend, Lat Bloomfield.

A few days later, police arrested Sofar when they caught him trying to steal a motorcycle. He gave them a fake name, but that only worsened the situation. His pupils were dilated, his speech slurred, alcohol emitted from his body like BO.

They brought him into the station and with one card left to play, Sofar said he had information about the Fairlane's murders. At the police station, Sofar demanded to speak with Sergeant Bruce Claussen of the Galveston County Sheriff's Department. However, several officers tried to talk to him first, including Detective Gil Schultz,

During their recorded interview, Sofar couldn't accurately describe what part of Houston the bowling alley was, nor could he describe recognizable features about the building and parking area. Then, Sofar and Schultz worked on a diagram of the interior. Based on his answers, you'd think Sofar had never been there in his life. Schultz drew in most of the crime scene.

When Sofar stopped talking, they finally brought in Sergeant Claussen. Max Sofar was a regular police informant. Claussen was his handler. However, according to Claussen, Sofar was also a drunk who was always looking for the big score. Drugs and alcohol had fried his brain, and there was rarely a useful word coming out of his mouth. He had the mental capacity of a 10-year-old child.

Eventually, Sofar signed three different statements prepared by detectives, all three telling completely different stories about what happened that night. The first statement, signed on August 5th, 1980, implicated Latte Bloomfield, saying the two of them robbed the bowling alley the night before. Then, they drove back the next night and Latte went in with a pistol while Sofar waited in the car. Sofar said he watched Latte force several young people to their knees before shooting them.

Detective Schultz knew his statement about robbing the bowling alley the night before was false. Police already had two suspects in custody for the robbery. The next day, Sofar signed the second statement, still claiming he and Latt robbed the bowling alley the night before. He maintained that Latt went inside with a gun, only this time he wore lady stockings over his head as a disguise. But according to Garner's eyewitness account, the killer didn't wear a mask.

Sofar signed a third statement on August 7th, saying that he and Latt entered the bowling alley in partial disguises. Latt wore lady stockings, and Sofar had a t-shirt pulled over his mouth. He said they walked right through the open door and a man asked what they were doing there. Even though all three of Sofar's statements were as inaccurate as possible, a jury still sentenced him to death. In his closing argument, the prosecutor said,

The defendant tells you that he did it. What other evidence do you need? That's the best kind of evidence you'll ever have in a case. At the trial, the prosecution said Garner must suffer from potential amnesia because his retelling of the events didn't align with Sofar's confession. The jury never heard a word about Paul Reed, believing that a man wouldn't confess to something he didn't do. Two different juries in 1981 and 2006 found him guilty and sentenced him to death.

There wasn't a shred of physical evidence connecting Max to the crime. No DNA, no fingerprints, no weapons, no blood, and no witnesses. Max so far sat on death row for the next 35 years. He developed liver cancer in 2013 and passed away three years later. So the question remains, did Houston PD pin the bowling alley murders on a confused drug addict looking to cash in on some reward money? We'll let you be the judge.