50 Shades of Evil: Virginia - Christopher Bryan Speight

0:16 Welcome back. I am your host, Jim Chapman, and today I am bringing you another episode from the Fifty Shades of Evil series, and this week we are going to the state of Virginia. We're on a typical Tuesday evening in Appomattox County, inside a white farmhouse at the end of a long gravel drive. Two families are gathered. They're laughing, catching up plates still on the table. Lori Lee and Dwayne Sipe, who were thirty eight years old, their little boy, Joshua just four years old. Lower Lee's teenage cousin, Morgan Dibbins fifteen years old. Outside, three more neighbors stop by, Jonathan and Karen Quarrels, both and their fifteen year old daughter Emily. Sixteen year old Ronald bo Scruggs, he's there too.

1:06 He was just dropping something off. Eight people, eight ordinary lives, on a seemingly ordinary night. Then, without warning, a gunshot. In the span of just a few minutes, This peaceful road would absolutely become a killing ground. By the time the gunfire stopped, every single person inside and outside that house would be dead. Today, we're stepping into one of Virginia's most shocking and least understood mass murder cases. The story of Christopher Spite. How does a quiet rule security guard, a man who waved to his neighbors and let their dogs play together become one of the state's most notorious mass murderers overnight. In this particular episode, I'm gonna dive deep from Spiite's early life in teenage years in the same house where these killings would occur, through that horrifying day on January nineteenth of twenty ten. I'm going to talk about the manhunt, the trials, the conviction, and the sentence, all the way up to where he is today. I'm going to pull from court records, family statements, psychological evaluations, and never before heard details that will paint a full portrait of how an ordinary man crossed into this unimaginable evil.

2:33 Eight families were shattered that night, and their stories deserve to be told. So pull up a chair, because we're about to walk the thin line between normal life and pure darkness. So let's get into it. And we're going to start off in the rolling hills of central Virginia. And this is the early nineteen seventies, Appomattox County, still very much a place where time moved at the pace of the seasons. Cornfields stretched out under wide open skies.

3:23 Gravel roads would wind between thick tree lines of oak trees and pine trees, and on Snap's Mill Road, just outside the small town of Appomattics a modest white farmhouse at the end of a long tree lined driveway. It was number thirty thirty, a simple two story home with a wide front porch, a big backyard that backed up to the woods, and enough land for maybe a garden, a few dogs, and the occasional deer that would wander too close to the house at night. That house was the only home Christopher Brian Spite ever really knew. He was born in nineteen seventy one, and he came into a world that was already kind of shifting beneath his feet.

4:09 He wasn't an only child. He had a younger sister, lord Lee. She was just a few years behind him, and for a while the family felt whole. But when Chris was roughly nine or ten years old, everything would change. His father would walk out of the door one day and just simply never come back. The abandonment was sudden, complete, and it would leave a quiet wound in that household that would never fully heal. From that moment on, it was just the three of them, Chris, Lord Lee and their mother, and she became the unbreakable center of their world. Now, neighbors who knew that family described her as a strong, no nonsense woman who worked hard, kept the house spotless, and made sure her kids never wanted for anything that that she could provide. She would raise them in a farmhouse on Snap's Mill Road, and she would turn it into a place of stability in a world that at that point in time was kind of becoming very unstable for them. Chris and his mother were especially close, almost inseparable.

5:18 He was the quiet boy who stuck by his mother's side. He would help with chores after school, mowing lawns during the summer, and sitting with her on the porch as that sun would go down over those hills. And life for them was simple, predictable, and deeply rooted in rural Virginia tradition. Kids would ride bikes down their long driveways, They would play in creeks that ran behind their properties, and they learned how to respect the land and the animals that lived on that land. And like so many boys raised in Appomatox County, Chris would develop a love for the outdoors that ran really deep into his soul.

6:00 Hunting wasn't just a hobby for him or anybody that grew up in that area. It was really part of the culture. Deer season was practically sacred there. Fathers, uncles, grandfathers would pass down rifles the way other families passed down bibles. And Chris learned to handle firearms safely and responsibly from a very young age, and he would take that very seriously. He would clean his firearms meticulously, he would store them properly, and he would find kind of a piece in the quiet hours that he would spend in a deer stand in the early morning, waiting for the perfect shot. Now, to the neighbors who drove past that white farmhouse every day, the Spike kids, they seemed like typical children, polite, well behaved and unassuming in the best possible way. Chris was the boy who always waved when you passed, the one who let the neighborhood dogs run and play together in the yard and never complain about it. He was quiet, yeah, not a loud, boisterous type you sometimes see in these small towns. But he was dependable, He was hard working. He was the kind of teenager who did his chores without being asked. Chris would attend the local Appomatics County Public school. He would blend into the hallways filled with kids who had known each other since kindergarten, and he would make his way through without any major incidents, without any teacher notes of

7:32 trouble or outbursts, no suspensions, no fights, no whispers of concern, just a quiet kid from a single parent home, seemingly doing his best to fit into the steady rhythm of small town life. Now, after graduation, Chris didn't chase college dreams or big city lights. He stayed right there in Appomatics. And he took a steady job as a security guard. And this was the kind of reliable, over responsible work that seemed suited for his personality perfectly. He earned his concealed handgun permit, which is something pretty common in that part of Virginia, and he maintained a well cared collection of firearms at his family home. But that quiet stability of that life, it would start showing cracks. In two thousand and six, Chris's mother, the anchor of that family, She was diagnosed with brain cancer. The battle was quick.

8:31 She fought hard, but that disease moved faster than anyone expected. Before she passed away that same year, she did one final loving thing for her family. She needed that Snap's Mill Road farmhouse jointly to Cress and lower Lee. She wanted to make sure they would always have a roof over their heads no matter what, they wouldn't have to worry about a home, and it was her last act of protection. Now when she died, the loss hit Chris like a freight train. Those closest to the family would later describe it in heartbreaking terms. His uncle would tell reporters that Chris struggled after his mother's death, saying he didn't take it good at all. The uncle said he didn't think Chris ever reconciled the woman who had raised him, who had been his constant companion through abandonment, through adolescence through early adulthood. She was suddenly gone, and that farmhouse that had once echoed with her voice every day and the smell of her cooking every day, was now empty and cold. Now Lord Lee had already married, and she had started a family of her own. She brought her husband, Dwayne and their young children into the shared living arrangement at that farmhouse, and what had once been a quiet refuge for her mother and her two kids, it was now a shared space between a brother and a sister, navit gating very different adult lives now. It was around

10:03 this time that something deeper was taking route, the kind of grief that doesn't always show itself right away, the time that can sit quietly for years, until one cold January night in twenty ten, when all of that would explode with violence that no one in Appomattox County could have imagined. Jim, did you see what happened in Texas today? Wait before you tell me that, let me tell you what happened in New York. It cannot be as crazy as the case I told you about yesterday in Louisiana. You know what, we should do a podcast.

10:44 About it, and with that we did. Crime War Weekly covers the crime news headlines that have dominated the week. We cover trending crimes from all over the country, and even sprinkle in a few globally. Crime War Weekly is available now wherever you listen to your podcasts. Simply by searching Crime Wire Weekly or clicking the link in the description of this podcast. Four years have passed since Chris Spite's mother died, indeedd that house jointly to him and his sister. On paper, it was just a simple shared ownership, but in reality it had become a source of growing tension. Laura Lee had married Dwayne Sipe, and they started their own family. She and Dwayne, both thirty eight, had been spending more and more time at that house with their four year old son, Joshua Lord.

11:40 Lee's fifteen year old cousin, Morgan Dobbins, was also staying there on this particular night on January nineteenth of twenty ten, and that once quiet home where Chris had grown up with his mother now felt very chrity contested, a place where two adult siblings were kind of pulling in opposite directions over the only piece of their past that they had love. Now what exactly triggered the explosion that evening remains really locked inside Chris Spite's mind. Family members later described ongoing disputes about the house, money, how the property should be used, but no one outside of that circle could have imagined what was about to unfold. And we're going to go to that cold Tuesday evening. It's just after six o'clock. Inside that farmhouse, the families had gathered for what should have been an ordinary visit. Lord Lee and Dwayne were there with little Joshua. Morgan Dobbins was relaxing with them outside. Three neighbors had stopped by, Jonathan and Karen Quarrels, both forty three, their fifteen year old daughter Emily, and sixteen year old Bo Scrugs. He was also there. He was just dropping something off of the house.

12:56 Eight people laughing, talking, plated still on the table from supper. Then that gunshot fires off Chris Spite, thirty eight years old. He would step out of the shadows of that property that he had known his entire life in just open fire. He moved with a cold, methodical precision. First inside the house. Lord Lee Sype was shot multiple times in the head and upper body as she tried to protect her son. Dwayne Sipe was gunned down in that very same room, attempting to shield his family. Four year old Joshua spe was killed right where he stood, a single devastating shot.

13:37 Morgan Dibbin's, that fifteen year old cousin. She never had a chance. She was shot repeatedly as she tried to run through the house in the gunfire. It was relentless, shellcasings reining onto the floor. Blood would soak the carpets in the walls of the only home that Chris had ever known. But that horror did not stop at the front door. SPIKEE would turn his weapon outward. Jonathan Quarrels and his wife Karen were cut down in the yard as they tried to run to their car, and their daughter Emily, just fifteen years old, was shot while running for cover. Both Scruggs, the sixteen year old who stopped by, was in the wrong place at the wrong time. He was killed instantly, and in total, spite fired more than fifty rounds. Every single victim was hit multiple times at close range. Then came the final chilling detail that would haunt investigators for years. Before leaving that scene, SPIKEE rigged the entire farmhouse with explosives. He placed devices throughout the structure, on doors, in hallways wired to the electrical system. It was a deliberate attempt to turn the family home into a deadly trap for anyone who might respond. That house was now a bomb waiting today, Spike would climb into his vehicle and speed away from Snapsmell Road, leaving those eight bodies behind. The nine to one one calls would

15:09 start flooding in almost immediately, frantic, breathless voices from neighbors who had heard the rapid gunfire Appomattox County deputies would race to the scene, but when they arrived, they were met with a nightmare. The white farmhouse would stand silent, its porch lights still burning, while laying inside were the bodies of an entire family and their neighbors. The explosives made every step difficult. Bomb technicians had to be called in before investigators could even begin processing that scene, and by the time the first full accounting was made, the horror of what had happened would really begin to sink in.

15:52 Eight people, four to forty three in age, murdered in a matter of minutes on a quiet road where nothing like this had ever happened before. Meanwhile, Chris Spite was on the run. He drove into the surrounding woods and fields that he knew better than almost anyone else, and for the next eighteen hours, a massive manhunt would unfold. Virginia State Police, local deputies, and even helicopters would scour the countryside. Roadblocks would go up, homes were locked down. Residents of Appomattox County were told to stay inside with their doors locked. And around noon the next day, on January twenty, twenty ten, of Virginia State Police helicopter spots movement in the heavily wooded area around the home. As the aircraft hovered overhead, Spike raised a rifle and he starts shooting at the helicopter, and bullets would rep through the rotor blades and the fuselage of that helicopter. Now the pot managed to land safely, but that act showed just how desperate and dangerous this guy had become. A short time later, law enforcement would close in and Crisspite would emerge from the tree line, wearing a bulletproof vest and carrying multiple firearms. Still armed to the teeth, he

17:23 was taken into custody without further resistance, and his face was calm, his movements deliberate. The man who had once been described as quite and polite, he now stood handcuffed on the same land where he had grown up, and in the hours that followed, investigators began piecing together the full picture, and that crime scene was one of the most disturbing they had ever processed. The sheer volume of gunfire, the execution style nature of many of the wounds, the explosives that really could have turned the entire property into a secondary disaster of monumental proportion. The police were facing all of this, but perhaps the most unsettling details would come from Spite himself during his post arrest interview. When questioned, he began talking about an Egyptian princess he called Jennifer, a goddess like figure he claimed had been communicating with him.

18:25 He would speak of demonic possession of voices that commanded him to act. He would describe the killings as almost like matter of factly, as if they were inevitable, as if he had no choice but to do this. Family members were later interviewed, and they confirmed that Chris had shown signs of mental health struggles in the years after his mother's death, though nothing, of course, had prepared anyone for what he would actually do. So in the days that followed, that small community in Appomattox County it was in shock. Candlelight visual would fill the streets, flags would fly at half staff. Neighbors who had known the Spike family for decades, they would struggle to reconcile this. In their mind. All they remember was the quiet boy who now had just committed one of the deadliest mass shootings in Virginia history, and Christopher Bryan Spite. He would now face the full weight of the justice system. So Chris was arrested. This was on January twenty, twenty ten, and the case would move quickly through the Virginia court system.

19:36 But almost immediately it would become clear that this would not be just another simple prosecution. From the moment of his arrest, Spike's behavior would raise serious questions about his mental state. The Egyptian princess that he called Jennifer, all of the demonic possession comments that he made, all of that would come out, and of course, within we the defense, they would file motions requesting a full psychiatric evaluation to determine whether Spite was even competent to stand trial. In the first major courtroom battle, it would take place in the fall of twenty ten, and I got to say, that's way quicker than what I would have imagined for a crime of this magnitude. With eight people dead, but they moved it right along and in unpacked appomatics court room.

20:27 Two court appointed psychologists and one hired by the defense. They spend hours on the witness stand and they described Spite's delusional beliefs in detail. They talked about all those things have already mentioned regarding this goddess. Jennifer and defense attorneys would argue these delusions would render him unable to understand the legal proceedings or assist in his own defense. But the prosecution they would push back hard. They presented evidence in spite of meticulous Lee playing that attack the way he waited until multiple family members and neighbors were present, the volume of the ammunition he brought, the explosives he rigged throughout that house afterward. Not only did he pre plan this and get really prepared for it, bulletproof vest and all, but he tried to destroy the evidence after he did it. Someone that is so crazy, they have no grasp of reality. That's not how they work. Investigators would testify he had methodically chosen those weapons, even changed into tactical clothing before opening fire, and the judge would listen carefully. He will review those reports and ultimately rule that Chris Spite was competent to stand trial. The delusions, the court decided, didn't prevent him from understanding right from wrong or participating in the legal process, So that ruling

21:59 it would clear way for a trial. But behind the scenes, plea negotiations they had already started. And that's primarily because the evidence against Spiite was pretty overwhelming. They had ballistic matches, they had explosives hell, they had his own statements, they had a bullet rental helicopter he shot out. A full trial would mean forcing the surviving family members to relive every horrifying detail in open court, with graphic crime scene photos displayed for days on end. So both sides understood that's going to take a toll on people, especially in a small, tight knit community like this. So in twenty twelve, after more than two years of legal maneuvering, a deal was finally reached in on February fifteenth of twenty thirteen, Chris Spite. He would stand before a Circuit court judge by the name of Richard Blanton in a tense, emotionally charged court room and appomatics. The gallery was filled with the victim's family members many of them wearing buttons with the faces of the eight people that this assholely killed in spite. Dressed in plain orange jail jumpsuit colors, he entered a plea of guilty. He pleaded guilty to three counts of capital murder, one count of attempt at capital murder, and that was for shooting at that helicopter, and five firearms related charges. And in exchange, the remaining capital murder

23:34 counts would be dropped and the Commonwealth agreed not to pursue the death penalty. Now, the decision to plead guilty would spare the community a drawn out trial, but it did not spare anyone the ra all pain of the sentencing hearing that followed. One by one, those surviving family members stood at the podium and they would face the man who destroyed their worlds. And a relative of the Quarrel's family would speak through tears about Jonathan and Karen, the devoted parents who would simply stop by to check on friends. And they would also speak of fifteen year old daughter Emily, whose bright future was erased in a matter of seconds. Another family member spoke of little four year old Joshua Sipe and describe how that titler had been the light of the household, always running through the yard with his toy trucks. Lord Lee's friends would describe her as the glue of her family, the one who brought everyone together, and Morgan Dobson's mother would talk about her fifteen year old daughter's infectious laugh and her dreams of becoming a nurse. Ronald bo Scruggs family will remember the sixteen year old as a helpful kid who was just doing a favor that night, wrong place, wrong time, And it was at that point that the judge would deliver the sentence. Was sentenced to five consecutive life terms without the possibility of parole, one for each of the

25:07 primary capital murder victims covered in the plea, and he also got an additional eighteen years for the firearms and attempted murder charges, and in total, really he will never walk again as a free man. So outside of the courthouse, the reaction was immediate and raw. Victim's family spoke to waiting reporters, many repeating the words monster and coward. One relative would tell the camera he got what he deserved, He'll never hurt anyone again, and community leaders in Appomatox County would express a collective sense of justice having been served, even as they acknowledge no sentence could ever bring back the eight people that he killed that night. For Crisspite, the criminal proceedings were over, no parole, no second chances.

25:58 The justice system it spoke, so that gavel came down on February fifteenth of twenty thirteen, and Chris Spite's life as a freeman would end forever. And within days he gets transferred from the local jail into the custody of the Virginia Department of Corrections. His destination one of the state's most secure facilities, red Onion State Prison, which was Virginia's notorious supermax prison where the most dangerous and high profile inmates are often held in near total isolation. For years, that was his home. Then in twenty twenty four, he was moved to what's none as Keen Mountain Correctional Center, which is a Level four maximum security facility tucked into the mountains of Buchanan County in south west Virginia. Today, he's known as inmate number one four seven one seven one six, and he still walks those same cold corridors.

27:01 He's serving five consecutive life sentences. He has no possibility of parole, and that means exactly what it sounds like. He's gonna die behind bars now. Keen Mountain is a fortress. It's designed for men who can never be allowed back into society. It's surrounded by razor wire fences, watch towers, and layers of electronic surveillance. It houses roughly twelve hundred adult male offenders. Now. For someone like Spite, a convicted mass murderer with multiple life terms, this classification, it's pretty straightforward, maximum security, limited privileges, and constant monitoring of his every movements, and his daily life is rigid. It's a routine. It's repetitive wake up as early, usually around five thirty or six o'clock am, and it's followed by a quick head count in his cell.

27:58 Breakfast gets the livered through a narrow slot in that cell door. Most of the day is spent in his single cell, which is a small concrete box with a steel bunk, a metal toilet sink combination, and a narrow window that offers only a sliver of sky. He's allowed one hour of wreck time per day, often alone in a small fence yard called a dog pin, and they call it that because it looks exactly like that. And he can walk in circles, or he can do push ups under the watchful eyes of officers. Of course, contact with the outside world is minimal and very strictly controlled.

28:40 Mail is censored, phone calls are limited recorded, and expensive visits, when they happen at all, are conducted through thick glass. Of course, there is no physical contact, and the isolation is total. The woods he knew by heart, the deer stands where he once found his the porch where he sat with his mother. All of it is now nothing more than a distant memory because he's locked behind layers of concrete and steel right where he belongs. Public records remain silent on any recent outburst or incidents. There's no major discipline reports that I can find, or violent episodes involving Spite that had surfaced since his sentencing. He appears to have settled into a controlled existence in maximum security prison.

29:36 For the families of the victims, the knowledge that Spite is locked away brings some form of justice, measure of justice to them. Of course, I don't believe you ever get closure, but you can get some justice. Of course, it doesn't heal the wounds. Many still gather each January on the anniversary of those shootings, and they lack candles. They tell stories, and they remember these eight lives that were cut short. And it's important to note Virginia handles inmates serving multiple life sentences the way they should be handled, with a simple, unforgiving philosophy, permanent removal from society. There's no rehabilitation track that leads to freedom for men like spite.

30:23 And it's been thirteen years since that January night on Snap's Mill Road. Eight families still grieving, a small community still remembering, and one man wants a quiet neighbor wants. A boy who waved from the porch of the only home he ever knew will spend the rest of his life paying for the darkness he unleashed through that evil act. And that's where we leave Christopher Brian Spiighte and there you have it. Thank you so much for listening. As always, check out the Patreon for commercial, free early releases and more at patreon dot com. Slash Bloody and Goola podcast and until next time for Bloody and Gola, I'm your host, Jim Chapman, much love,