After 33 Years on Loose, Killer Is Back Behind Bars

HOUSTON â€”  When he walked away from a Pennsylvania prison in 1971, Allen Delaney Marshall was 29 years old and serving time for the beating death of his estranged wife.

Last week, after 33 years on the lam, U.S. marshals caught up with the fugitive: He was quietly living under his own name, with a wife, two teenage sons and a pair of pit bull terriers.

“He didn’t seem surprised to see us,� said Deputy U.S. Marshal Doris Ramos, who arrested Marshall last week at his southwest Houston home. “I got the feeling that, more than anything, he was relieved it was over.�

“Call your mother at work. I’ll see you in 2 1/2 years,� Marshall told his sons as he was led away.

It will probably be longer. Pennsylvania authorities have charged him with escape, a felony that could add seven years to the five- to 10-year sentence imposed for the 1969 beating death of his 22-year-old wife, Barbara Carol Marshall, in Harrisburg, Pa. Marshall’s children from his first marriage led authorities to Texas, according to Pennsylvania police.

Marshall, 62, had served 2 1/2 years of the original sentence when he disappeared during a three-day prison furlough.

The details of Marshall’s life for the next three decades is a story he’s keeping to himself as he sits in a Houston jail awaiting extradition to Pennsylvania.

Investigators believe he fled to Mexico, where he lived for 20 years before moving to Texas around 1994 with his wife, Maria, and sons. About two years ago, the family settled in Houston, renting a house in an aging, middle-class neighborhood and generally keeping to themselves, say neighbors.

The boys, aged 16 and 17, have their father’s fair features but speak Spanish fluently, said Carlos Garcia, who occasionally played soccer with them. “They’re just normal teenagers. No one ever brought up anything about a killing,� he said.

From her vantage point across the street, Linda Reichardt became familiar with the Marshalls’ schedule as she glanced out her picture window or tended to her immaculate lawn. Although authorities have said Marshall has no record of employment in Texas, Reichardt said she saw him leave every morning in a courier service van.

“I’ll tell you what, he never went outside unless it was to get into that van or pick up the boys at school,� she said. “He never took care of the lawn himself, he seemed to have no friends or social life. I think that’s how he was able to hide for so long. He was low-key.�

Marshall’s sons were not so quiet. Reichardt said she regularly marched across the street to ask them to turn down their stereo, which blasted from a converted garage apartment.

Last week, the teenagers’ music was stilled, their wood-frame bungalow shuttered from the eyes of neighbors and gawking reporters. Bright pink azaleas bloomed in the overgrown yard. A green sedan was parked in the driveway. An American flag drooped by the front door.

“On any other day, those boys would have been playing basketball in the street until it got dark,� said Reichardt, pointing to a portable basketball hoop standing behind a fence. “Now they’ve locked themselves in that house for something their father did. It’s sad.�

Near the end of 2002, Marshall’s son from his first marriage used the Internet to track down his father in Dallas, said Pennsylvania State Trooper Gerald Allen.

“There was apparently some communication back and forth and [the elder Marshall] wanted to get together with them. The daughter felt that was wrong and he should serve his time,� said Allen. By the time authorities checked the information supplied by the fugitive’s grown children, the man they believed was Marshall had moved.

Late last month an anonymous tip pointed authorities to Houston. Armed with a 1969 mug shot and a description of his tattoos, Ramos, the deputy U.S. marshal, approached Marshall’s house with her partner and knocked on the door. “Mr. Marshall answered and I asked, ‘Are you Allen Marshall?’ He said ‘Yes, I am.’ I asked, ‘Do you know why we’re here?’ He said, ‘Yes, I do,’ � Ramos said.

Ramos handcuffed him while his sons -- at home from school for spring break -- watched without a word, then slipped a pair a sneakers onto his feet and kissed him goodbye.

“I’ve arrested many people in their homes and you have the family members screaming, ‘Why are you doing this?’ But these kids, they were very polite. He was very polite.... No one seemed surprised,� said Ramos.

As he walked to the waiting patrol car, Marshall turned to Ramos with tears in his eyes, she said, and told her: “I wish I had taken care of this a long time ago.�