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A note to our listeners. This episode contains adult language. I want my mom. Mama. Ed Ray shines a flashlight on the ceiling of his prison. He's trapped inside the trailer of a moving truck that's buried underground. And he's desperate to find a way out.
As he scans the surface above, he can hear soft whimpers emanating from the darkness around him. There are 26 children imprisoned with him, and all of them are terrified. Ed's a school bus driver by trade. Yesterday afternoon, he drove a busload of kids home from summer school in the small farming town of Chowchilla, California.
The dusty roads that run between the massive farms were empty and quiet, just like any other day. But then, out of nowhere, three armed men hijacked the bus. They packed Ed and the students into two vans and drove them around for hours. When the kidnappers finally pulled Ed out of the van, it was the middle of the night. He could see that he was in a desolate industrial area, surrounded by piles of dirt and gravel.
One by one, the hostages were forced to climb down a ladder through a hole in the ceiling of the underground truck. Then the kidnappers removed the ladder and sealed the exit shut.
Ed reaches above his head. He can barely touch the steel plate that's been laid over the hole in the ceiling. Ed strains to push against the plate with his fingertips. Something very heavy has been placed on top of it. It won't budge, not without more leverage. He swings his flashlight around to check on the kids. They look completely spent, lying on filthy mattresses or slumping against the walls of the moving van, catatonic.
Besides the mattresses, the kidnappers left several large jugs of water and a pitiful amount of food. Cheerios, peanut butter, Wonder Bread, crackers. Most of it is gone already. Two holes cut into the wheel wells were evidently meant as toilets. Some of the kids have been using them already, and the stench is overpowering.
The only air blows in softly from two small holes in the ceiling. Ed figures there must be fans connected to them somehow, but it doesn't matter much. It feels like they're slowly suffocating. And with every hour, the heat inside this steel compartment is rising. Ed slowly crouches down and takes a seat on the floor of the truck.
Some of the kids slide closer to him and cling to his arms. He hugs them. Why did they do this to us? It'll be alright, okay? Ed feels anger welling up in his chest. Some of these kids are five years old. What kind of monster would torture them like this? The flashlight next to him flickers. The batteries are running low. Kids, I'm going to have to turn off the light for a while, okay? Don't be afraid. Just try and get some sleep.
He clicks the flashlight off, and once again, the darkness swallows them up. Nobody knows where they are, which means nobody is coming to save them. If he doesn't figure out an escape plan, they're done for.
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Progressive Casualty Insurance Company and Affiliates. Price and coverage match limited by state law. From Wondery, I'm Mike Corey, and this is Against the Odds. In July of 1976, on the outskirts of the farming community of Chowchilla, California, three men hijacked a school bus carrying 26 children and their driver, Ed Ray.
The hostages were transported 100 miles away to a desolate rock quarry and imprisoned in a moving truck buried underground. The local police launched a desperate search, but there were barely any clues to go on. The kidnappers were three wealthy young men from the Bay Area, hoping to extort a $5 million ransom from the California government. Meanwhile, Ed Ray and his students were hoping to stay alive, and they were running out of time.
This is episode 2, Buried Alive. 14-year-old Mike Marshall lies on his back on a dirty mattress, staring into the darkness. He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and pulls himself to his feet. Two nights ago, his mom caught him sneaking beers. As punishment, she made him ride the bus home from summer school instead of picking him up. He got his punishment all right.
Whatever hell is, it's gotta feel something like this. He stretches his sore muscles, then rubs his temple to soothe his aching head. He's so hungry, so thirsty. Most of the food was gone in under an hour, and there are only a few jugs of water for all of them. Mike feels a hand on his shoulder and turns on his flashlight to see Ed Ray. He looks like he's been crying. Son, I'm sorry.
I'm so sorry I got us into this hole. It's okay, Mr. Ray. It's not your fault. I was supposed to take care of you all. As the oldest student, Mike appreciates Ed taking him into his confidence. But he refuses to believe they're not going to make it. He looks Ed in the eye. I'm not gonna die down here. The bus driver smiles weakly and pats him on the back. Mike can tell that Ed doesn't believe him.
Mike looks up at the ceiling again and decides to take matters into his own hands. He stares at the hole they were forced to climb in two hours ago. There's a metal plate covering it. When Ed tried to move it a little while ago, it wouldn't budge. But maybe that's because Ed could barely reach it. An idea hits him. He grabs an edge of his mattress and drags it across the floor of the trailer. He grabs a second mattress and stacks it on top of the first.
Mike looks up again to make sure the pile is centered beneath the opening. Then he casts his flashlight around the room, counting the mattresses. There are more than enough to build a stack that could reach the ceiling. He feels determined. He's not going to die down here. He's going to keep stacking up the mattresses. And then he's going to climb up and push on that steel plate with all of his might. The hole in the ceiling will be their escape hatch.
Fred Woods carefully steers his van into an empty warehouse. He kills the ignition and turns to his friend Rick Schoenfeld, who's sitting quietly in the passenger seat. We're here.
The two men hop out and watch as Rick's brother James drives another van into the warehouse and parks it. Through the entrance, Fred sees the sky on the horizon is turning a pale gray. Another misty Bay Area dawn. Fred stretches, savoring the moment. They've done it. The plan worked.
Fred, James and Rick successfully kidnapped 26 children and their bus driver and buried them underground about 30 miles away at the California Rock and Gravel Quarry in Livermore. Now they're reconvening here at this warehouse, the one Fred rented a few months ago. It's a squat building on a dead-end street in San Jose, right by the freeway. No foot traffic and hardly any cars passing by. Perfect for stashing the two vans without detection.
All that's left to do is deliver their $5 million ransom demand to the California state government and then wait for their money. There are probably some escape details to iron out, but once they have the money, it'll be easy. Fred opens the back door of the van he just parked. All right, let's unload these vans and lock up.
Can't let anyone see them since Rick registered them with his real name. Fred glares at Rick, who shrugs and goes back to unpacking. What a dunce, Fred thinks. But hopefully, it won't matter. Fred bundles up the clothes and other items taken from the children and Ed Ray. One identifying item per person. It's a way to prove they really have the kids. He rolls it all into a tarp for safekeeping, then shoves it into a corner of the warehouse. He turns to the brothers.
I'll call about the ransom once I get home. Those kids aren't going anywhere. James furrows his brow. Fred can tell he's worried about something, as usual. Fred, I'm thinking about that battery again. Fred knows which battery James is talking about. It's the one powering the fan that's the only source of ventilation for the hostages. He's worried that if it fails, the hostages will run out of air and die.
Fred puts a hand on James' shoulder. "Okay, how's this? I'll go back later tonight, or maybe tomorrow, to check on the fan and swap out the battery. Do it before tomorrow. I'm not going down for murder. If we just keep cool and finish the job, we'll be counting our money before the weekend's out." Fred claps the dust off his hands and checks the vans, the tarp, the tools. All safely stowed. Once he rolls down the garage door, no one will have any idea what's in this building.
Fred walks out to the street, with James and Rick close behind. "I'm gonna go take a shower and get some sleep." "You should do the same." The brothers nod nervously. Fred pulls down the garage door and padlocks it. Behind him, the brothers climb into James' 1963 Chrysler and peel out. Fred watches them go, thinking about all the cars he'll buy with the ransom money. It won't be long now.
Ed Ray heaves the edge of the dirty mattress up to 14-year-old Mike Marshall. Mike and Ed are putting the finishing touches on an unsteady tower of mattresses. It's mid-morning on Friday, July 16th, the day after the kidnapping. They've been down here about seven hours now. Ed nearly succumbed to despair in those early hours, but now he's fighting like hell to escape.
It's tall enough. I'm going to try to open this thing. Mike crouches down on top of the mattress and puts his palms on the plate. He pushes up hard with his legs. The teenager is strong for his age, but the plate doesn't move.
Ed shakes his head. "You're gonna hurt yourself, son." The bus driver pushes gently against the side of the mattress pile to test its stability. It wobbles a little, but it holds. "Hold on, I'm coming up." Ed grabs the corner of the topmost mattress and pulls himself to the top of the pile. He crouches down next to Mike and presses his shoulders and back against the underside of the metal plate. He takes a deep breath and pushes with everything he's got. The plate doesn't budge.
Mike inches closer and pushes alongside him. Ed's shoulders are on fire. His back feels like it might give. Sweat pours down Ed's face as he hears the children calling out from below. Ed glances down at the kids as he continues to push. They need him to be strong, as strong as he's ever been.
He forces himself to push harder. Suddenly, Ed feels the plate shift. It's just a few inches, but it gives him hope. He sees Mike pump his fists in excitement. Look, a crack!
I can almost get my hand out! I'm feeling... a metal box. No, wait.
There's two of them. I can't hold it much longer. Mike draws his arm back in and Ed lets the plate down with a crash. Ed falls back onto the mattress and thinks. Two metal boxes are weighing down the plate. What are they? And how can they be removed? From what he remembers when he climbed down, the shaft above them is narrow. Even if Mike could reach them, there's probably no space into which the heavy boxes could be pushed.
But then Ed gets an idea. If he pushes up on one end of the plate and shimmies it towards him, he might create a gap in the opposite side of the hatch.
a big enough gap that the boxes could be pulled down inside the moving truck. Ed turns back to Mike. "When I lift that plate again, you slide the boxes down." Mike nods. Ed repositions his feet on the mattress pile and his shoulders on the steel plate and takes a deep breath. He thrusts his shoulders upward on the edge of the plate. Slowly and surely, the plate begins to lift and slope at an angle.
A gap begins to appear in the opening, at the bottom of the slope. It's about a foot wide, but Ed won't be able to hold it open for long. "Hurry up, Mike!" Mike hesitates a moment, then thrusts an arm through the opening. Ed keeps pushing up. If he drops the plate now, he could break Mike's shoulder. Mike struggles as he pulls. "I think I can slide it off. Almost there." Ed makes a final push upward.
The gap widens a little more. Mike pulls, and the first object slides down onto the mattress. It's a heavy industrial battery. Mike grabs hold of it so it doesn't fall down to the floor. Ed braces his legs to keep his balance. Ann keeps pushing it.
Quick, get the other one down! The second battery drops. Mike grabs hold of it. Ed flips the metal plate up inside the shaft and then collapses onto the mattress.
The hatch is now open, a gaping hole in the roof of the truck. As he struggles to catch his breath, Ed notices that some of the kids are staring up at the opening that's been created. Why is it still dark? Ed aims his flashlight through the hole. Above the roof of the truck is a shaft about three or four feet deep. And on top of that shaft is a plywood barrier. He knows it must be daytime, but there's no light coming through.
He pushes on the plywood. No use. It feels as solid as the steel plate. After all of that effort, Ed realizes that they're far from done. They still have another trapdoor to get through.
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Head over to Symbiotica.com and use code ODDS for 20% off and free shipping on your subscription order. 14-year-old Mike Marshall scrapes his fingers around the edges of a sheet of plywood. He's standing on top of the stack of mattresses, reaching up through the hole in the roof of the underground truck. Above the roof is a shaft about three feet deep leading to the surface, but the plywood is blocking the exit.
Squeezed onto the mattress beside him is 10-year-old Bob Gonzalez. No matter how hard they push up on it, the plywood won't budge. So Mike and Bob are scratching dirt, sand, and gravel from the gaps that are visible in the upper corners of the shaft. Maybe if they can create enough space around the plywood, they'll be able to move it and climb out.
Mike's been digging for seven hours. His hands are cramped and his fingertips are numb. His shoulders are aching from holding his arms up, and he thinks some of the wetness on his hands might be blood. His progress is maddeningly slow, a tablespoon at a time. He's never sweated so much, and the dirt is everywhere in his eyes, his nose, his mouth.
Mike scrapes out another bit of dirt with his bloody finger and turns to Bob. I think I'm starting to see some light. He and Bob scrape harder. Slivers of light begin to appear around the edges of the plywood. Mike looks down to see Ed Ray climbing up the mattress tower again. Mike extends a hand to him. Look, Mr. Ray, we can almost lift it up. Move over, boys. Mike and Bob slide to the edge of the mattress as Ed starts pushing on the plywood. Ah!
But it doesn't move. All of a sudden, Ed explodes, attacking the trapdoor with brute force. He slams his body against them. He pummels it with his fists. Finally, Ed gets his fingers around an edge and yanks it fiercely. Mike can hardly believe his eyes. The bus driver has ripped off a chunk of plywood with his bare hands.
I think I can fit through it!
This is a gamble. If the kidnappers are nearby and see him, Bob's ass good as dead. Within seconds, Bob's head and shoulders are through the hole. Mike pulls on Bob's shirt. "Wait, wait, Bob! Careful! Look around to see if anyone's up there first." Mike can feel his heart pounding as the ten-year-old quietly surveys the scene above ground.
I don't see anyone. Mike pulls Bob back down through the hole and tells him to stand back. With a final shove, Mike flips the plywood off the opening of the shaft. Dirt pours down on him. He climbs out of the hole, pulls himself to his feet, and breathes in the fresh air. He can't believe it. He made it out. Mike scans his surroundings. It's almost sunset.
They're in a dirt clearing near a small cluster of trees, but this isn't the wilderness. All around, he can see industrial equipment, big buildings. They're in a quarry, and it looks like it's deserted. He calls down into the shaft. The coast is clear! We can come out now! As the minutes tick past, Mike, Bob, and Ed work quickly to help all of the kids up the stack of mattresses and out of their underground prison.
Mike knows that there's no telling when the kidnappers will come back. It could be any moment. And if they find them here, they'll be furious. They'll all get put back underground, or worse. Ed Ray wipes the sweat off his brow as he tries to shepherd the kids away from the hatch. Everyone, stay with me. We're going home.
Ed doesn't have a clue where they are. The kidnappers drove them around for countless hours last night. They could be in Nevada, for all he knows. But he has to get these kids as far away from the quarry as possible before the kidnappers come back. In the past 24 hours, no one has slept or eaten enough. The youngest children, little kindergartners, are in a daze, barely able to walk. Ed kneels down next to them.
You're all about to see your families and get a warm supper, okay? And your parents won't be mad at all. I promise. Just a little longer to go. In the distance, Ed spots a tower. Could be a grain elevator, but he isn't sure. He points the kids toward it. Everyone's dead on their feet, but they keep walking. Slowly but surely, they stumble down the dirt road. As the tower gets closer, Ed hopes to God that someone's there.
Walter ends, hears an unusual sound in the distance. Sounds like kids, but he ignores it for now. Quarries are full of weird noises. Besides, he's just about done his shift, finishing a welding job on a tower at the outskirts of the California Rock and Gravel Quarry. He pauses to dab the sweat on his face with his bandana.
Walter looks out at the purplish blue twilight sky and wishes his shift was up and he could just go home. Then he hears that sound again. He peers around. Nothing. But he knows what he heard. He sounds the mill horn to alert his partner. Then he looks down and sees them trudging down the gravel road. A group of about two dozen kids led by a middle-aged man. All of them look filthy.
The man starts waving his arms over his head. "Help! Hey! Hey! Help! Help!" Walter struggles to make sense of what he's seeing. "Who are you?" The man arrives at the bottom steps and looks up. "My name's Ed Ray. We're the ones from Chowchilla." Walter shuts the alarm off. The news of the missing kids was everywhere. Could it be? But how could they have ended up here?
Ed asks to use their phone. Walter nods and watches as Ed picks up the phone and starts dialing. "Hello, Odessa? We're live!" Walter wonders what in God's name these kids have just been through. He hopes they come out of it alright.
Fred Wood sighs in frustration as he hangs up the phone. He's been hunkered down in his apartment on his family's 79-acre estate. All day long, he's been trying to get through to the Chowchilla police station to make his ransom demand, with nothing but busy signals. In the meantime, he's napped, showered, and even had dinner with his parents on the other side of the property. Now it's almost time to go back to the quarry and to check on the kids.
He hears a car pulling up outside. It's Rick. Fred opens the front door and lets him in. "I've been trying to call all day, but they're jammed. Well, how the hell are they gonna hear about the ransom then? Who knows? I guess they'll have to wait." Rick looks like he's about to throw up. Fred claps him on the shoulder. "Look, we still hold all the cards. By the time we get them on the phone, they'll be desperate to pay us."
It's almost time for the news. Fred's been thinking the same thing. He joins Rick on the couch in front of the TV. All four networks are carrying the same story. The Chowchilla bus driver and 26 children have been found. The driver, Ed Ray, helped dig the children out of their underground prison and led them to safety. Authorities are now on the hunt for three unknown kidnappers. Fred turns to Rick, who's pale as a ghost.
Fred feels the blood drain from his own face. The phone rings and Fred jumps. It's his father.
calling from the other side of the estate. Son, are you watching the news? Fred frantically gestures for Rick to turn down the TV volume. Uh, no, why? You know those kids that got kidnapped? They escaped. They're saying the bus driver helped get them all out. Wow, uh, that's crazy. It gets crazier. I just got a call. They were buried in a box or something. In
In our quarry. Out in Livermore. Can you believe that? Wow, a quarry, huh? Um, that's a trip, Dad. Thanks for telling me. I'm gonna go turn on the news, okay? Good night. It's over, Fred thinks. They're already investigating his father's quarry. Soon, someone will notice that Fred worked there over the winter. Any minute now, the police will knock on the door to ask if he knows anything.
Fred pats his jacket pocket, where he's already hidden his fake passport and his emergency cash. Time for plan B. They're going to have to make a run for it. Ed Ray knows he looks half-dead as he walks through the chaos of the police station in Chowchilla, but he's way beyond caring. His wife Odessa is by his side. Finally, for a good part of the ordeal, he really thought he'd never see her again.
Ed and the kids spent most of the night at the Santa Rosa Correctional Institution, where they were given food, water, and new clothes. A health evaluation found no serious injuries, just minor bruises, scrapes, and some dehydration. Some hours later, around 4 a.m., they all rolled up to the Chowchilla Police Station in a Greyhound bus. Ed was the last one to get off, as he shielded his eyes from the blinding flashbulbs.
There are reporters everywhere, and Ed doesn't want to talk to any of them. Judging from the questions he's been asked ever since he got out of the quarry, Ed knows that law enforcement thought he was a possible suspect. Though it seems like they're ruling that out now. Still, he's insulted that anyone thought he could do such a horrible thing, even for a second. All he wants to do now is go home and sleep. Odessa senses his frustration and tries to perk him up, just a little.
Ed, I know you're beat, but they want you to say something. I ain't exactly in the mood for it. You've got to do it. Let me help. Ed watches as Odessa walks past the TV cameras to the bank of microphones. Sheriff Bates is by her side, looking especially stern. Odessa makes a firm announcement. Ed will talk, under one condition.
No questions. Ed knows that's the best deal he's gonna get. He walks wearily toward the cameras, too tired for pleasantries. Slowly, he tells the whole story.
He describes how they dug themselves out and then shuffles away, hoping to never have to talk to a reporter again. As Ed rides back home with Odessa, he wonders about the three kidnappers who thrust him into this nightmare.
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Sheriff Ed Bates leans back in his chair and basks in the quiet of the Chowchilla police station. It's been four days since the kidnapping. The press is mostly gone. The families are back home with their kids. It almost feels like business as usual. Bates notices one of his deputies standing in the doorway. Sheriff, they've traced the vans.
Bates leans forward as the deputy fills him in. Not long ago, authorities located the two vans that were used to transport the hostages from the school bus to the quarry. Turns out, they belonged to a pair of brothers, Richard and James Schoenfeld. The deputy hands Bates a report, and the sheriff does a double-take. Wait a minute. They're from Atherton? Uh-huh. And their dad's some kind of doctor.
Bates shakes his head. Atherton is a wealthy enclave in San Mateo County. Why on earth would two rich kids do something so risky, so deranged? Bates leaves his office to find one of the FBI agents who are still on site. With such a strong lead, it's a shame that the FBI seems to be winding down its involvement. There have been many times in the last few days where it seemed like the federal agents thought he was just a dumb hick.
Bates felt insulted, but his local office just doesn't have the resources for a huge manhunt. He still needs their help. Bates spots an agent and approaches him. "Now that we've traced the vans, I want to put out an all-points bulletin on James and Rick Schoenfeld." "Yeah, uh, we don't do that." "Don't do what?" "We don't do APBs, because we want to keep the investigation out of the news." Bates looks him in the eye and takes a step forward. "Well, that's not what I do."
Bates turns around and heads back to his office. Within minutes, the sheriff puts out an APB on the Schoenfeld brothers.
James Schoenfeld pulls up to a payphone in his car, gravel crunching under the wheels. He's at a picnic area in scenic Coeur d'Alene, Idaho, and he's sweaty, shaky, and he's sleep-deprived. It's been five days since their hostages somehow escaped from the underground prison. Fred, Rick, and James had no choice. They had to make a run for it. But it didn't take long for Rick to disappear on them.
James figured that Rick was planning to tell their father everything and take his chances with the courts. For all James knows, Rick is spilling his guts right now. Meanwhile, Fred and James skipped out of town. They headed for Reno, Nevada and then made plans to escape to Canada. Four days ago, Fred took most of the remaining $500 and caught a plane to Vancouver. But without a fake passport, James couldn't fly.
He had to drive almost a thousand miles to reach a border crossing in Idaho. He was almost home free, but he slipped up. Twice. When he got to the border, he was nervous and incoherent. Enough cause for the Border Patrol agents to search his car. They found Fred's stash of guns hidden in the car and turned James away. So James drove west to Spokane and sold all the guns to a sporting goods store.
Then it was back to the border, but again he was refused entry, and again it was thanks to Fred, who had left two pistols in the center console and two rifles in the trunk. Stressed and sleep-deprived, James had simply missed them. Now he's dirty and broke. He hasn't slept properly in five days. He kills the engine and goes to the payphone to call the family lawyer.
Nobody picks up the phone. James assumes his little brother Rick got to the lawyer first. He hangs his head and retreats to his car. He flips on the radio. The news is talking about him and Fred and the massive amount of manpower hunting them down. He hears something about an APB and turns the radio off.
James looks outside at the blurry vista of Northern Idaho, at the deep blue lake in front of him, feeling sorry for himself amid all this natural beauty. He rubs his eyes, downs another Styrofoam cup of coffee, and starts the engine. Nothing.
It's a sign from God. James decides that now he's going to execute Plan C, a plan much more foolproof than Fred's Plan B. He puts the car in gear and heads south. Plan C is to copy Rick, go home, and face the music. It's the only honorable thing left to do. Fred turns on the TV and sits down at the desk of his dingy hotel room in Vancouver.
The room reminds him of the sort of place you'd see on crime shows, which is fine by him. It's been two weeks since he and the Schoenfeld brothers hijacked a school bus. He's been hiding out in Vancouver since the day after the children escaped. He hasn't had much to do except drink too much coffee and watch TV, especially the news.
A week ago, the police raided his family estate. They found the jack-in-the-box bag on which they wrote the hostages' names. And they found a draft of the ransom note that somehow had his name on it. And they found the vans. Then Rick surrendered to authorities. And just this morning, James was arrested in Oakland for driving erratically.
Fred tosses the newspapers and crumpled notebook paper off his desk. He's written many letters this week, and now he wants to write another. This one is to his old friend, film student David Boston. Fred writes that his crime would make a good movie of the week, but admittedly, it's not quite a theatrical feature. It's so sensationalistic that somebody is going to cash in. So why not David?
"My ending is not exciting enough, so you might have to kill some people or something. If you do make it into a film, all I want is a percentage of it. You make it up. I don't care how much, but be fair." He smiles. "Good letter." He folds it, puts it in an envelope, addresses it, then takes it and heads down to the lobby. He waves at the clerk as he walks out the door.
A few minutes later, Fred arrives at the local post office. He walks up to the counter, hands the employee his letter, and asks if his alias, Ralph Snyder, got any mail. Nope, not today. Fred shakes his head and turns around. Time to head back to the hotel to write more letters and watch more TV.
Just before Fred is about to leave, several serious looking men approach him. Before Fred can move, one of them grabs him. "Fred Woods, you're under arrest." As handcuffs are placed onto his wrists, Fred feels calm. As calm as he was during the kidnapping, he recalls. "Anything you want to say?" Fred thinks about it for a second. "I am really sorry. I'm going to miss this on the news tonight." The officers escort Fred outside. It's over.
but a smile creeps across his face as he wonders who will play him in the movie. When Fred Wood's capture made the news, Chowchilla celebrated. The mayor declared a local holiday. The kids all got a trip to Disneyland. Well-wishers gave Ed Ray a couple of vacations and some luggage. He was a guest on Hollywood Squares. Robert Goulet recorded a song about him.
Woods and the Schoenfeld brothers pleaded guilty to 27 counts of kidnapping for ransom. On December 15th, 1977, all three were given life sentences, though this was later amended to include the possibility of parole. The Schoenfeld brothers were model prisoners. Rick Schoenfeld served 34 years and was paroled in 2012 at the age of 57.
His older brother James served 37 years and was paroled in 2015 at the age of 63. Upon their releases, both returned home to the Bay Area to care for their aging mother. Neither has been heard from since.
Unlike the Schoenfelds, Frederick Newhall Woods IV often flouted prison rules. He used his trust fund to secretly run businesses from inside, including a Christmas tree lot, a gold mine, and a used car operation. He sued his business manager from prison and was repeatedly caught smuggling cell phones and pornography. He even bought a mansion on the coast.
Fred's parents lived the rest of their lives in seclusion at their sprawling ranch in Portola Valley. In 2011, rather than leaving their estate to their son, they donated the entire 79-acre property to be used as an open space preserve. 17 years after the kidnapping, Fred's wish came true when the crime was made into a TV movie of the week starring Karl Malden.
In August 2022, after 46 years in prison and nearly 20 failed parole attempts, Fred Woods was finally released. He is 70 years old.
The trauma of the ordeal lingers for many of the victims. Even today, some of the hostages, now well into middle age, are still fearful of the dark or getting into vans and buses. Mike Marshall grew up and became a rodeo rider like his dad, then a blackjack dealer. Sheriff Ed Bates continued to be a larger-than-life sheriff before becoming a professor of criminology until his retirement in 1990.
On his 95th birthday in 2020, he was given a parade in front of the Madera County Sheriff's Department. Now 97, he is one of the last living links to the investigation. A working man to the end, Ed Ray went back to his bus route for nine more years, retiring in 1986. He got a gold watch, bought a Winnebago, and spent the rest of his life in peace and quiet.
If you tried to talk to him about the kidnapping, he'd change the subject and talk about a farm project instead. But he did buy back his old bus and keep it on his land in Chowchilla. On our next episode, we'll have my conversation with Chowchilla kidnapping survivor Jennifer Hyde, who was just nine years old at the time. We'll discuss her experience of the kidnapping and of its aftermath.
This is the final episode in our two-part series, Chowchilla School Bus Kidnapping.
A quick note about our scenes. In most cases, we can't exactly know what was said, but everything is based on historical research. If you'd like to learn more about this event, we highly recommend The Ballad of the Chowchilla Bus Kidnapping by Caleb Horton on Vox.com. I'm your host, Mike Corey. Caleb Horton wrote this episode. Our editor is Sean Raviv. Our audio engineer is Sergio Enriquez.
Sound design is by Joe Richardson, produced by Matt Almos and Emily Frost. Our managing producers are Tonja Thigpen and Matt Gant. Our senior producer is Andy Herman. Our executive producers are Jenny Lauer-Beckman, Stephanie Jens, and Marshall Louis for Wondery.
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