Inside the Mind of a Monster: What It Was Really Like Growing Up with Ted Bundy
Ted Bundy—the name alone sends shivers down the spine. One of the most infamous serial killers in modern history, he was known not only for his horrific crimes but also for his disarming charm and good looks. To the world, he was a predator lurking in plain sight. But to his younger cousin, Edna Cowell Martin, he was simply family—a helpful, charismatic presence in her life.
For years, she admired him, never suspecting that the same man who brought her groceries and regaled her with stories of his crime prevention work was actually hunting, abducting, and murdering women. Now in her 70s, Cowell Martin is finally breaking her silence in Dark Tide: Growing Up with Ted Bundy, a book she co-authored with Megan Atkinson. Speaking with A&E True Crime, she recounts her chilling realization of Bundy’s true nature and the lasting impact of being so close to a monster.
The Bond That Masked a Nightmare
Growing up, Cowell Martin shared an innocent, familial closeness with Bundy. Their families gathered at a lakeside cabin every year, enjoying summers filled with laughter. When she moved back to Washington in 1973 for college, Bundy became a fixture in her life, visiting her Seattle apartment frequently and looking after her and her roommates like an older brother.
“We were poor college students,” she recalls. “He would bring us groceries, and we would sit in awe as he talked about his job with the Seattle Crime Prevention Advisory Commission.”
She had no idea that while he was playing the role of a protective cousin, he was also using his Volkswagen Beetle to transport women to their deaths.
The Moment That Sent a Chill Down Her Spine
Bundy was, by all appearances, friendly and composed. But one moment still haunts Cowell Martin decades later.
One night, after he had brought groceries and joined her and her roommate for dinner, the three of them started dancing to records. When Cowell Martin turned to put on another song, she caught sight of Bundy slow dancing with her roommate. What she saw next made her blood run cold.
“He looked so mean and angry,” she says. “His jaw was clenched, and his normally bright blue eyes had gone completely black.”
She was so unnerved that she stopped the music and called his name twice before he snapped back to normal, acting as if nothing had happened. Moments later, he abruptly left. It wasn’t until years later that she learned the psychological phenomenon of dilated pupils being linked to rage—a sign that even in those seemingly harmless moments, Bundy’s monstrous instincts lurked beneath the surface.
Realizing the Truth—Too Late
Bundy’s crimes were unfolding terrifyingly close to home.
“Four of the women who disappeared were from the University District where I lived,” Cowell Martin recounts. One of them, Lynda Ann Healy, had been her roommate’s best friend. “We were reading the newspapers constantly. We were terrified.”
Yet, even when witness accounts described a man named “Ted” with a VW Bug, the idea that it could be her Ted seemed unthinkable.
That denial shattered when she received a phone call from her brother while working in Alaska. “He told me Ted had been arrested in Utah for an attempted abduction,” she remembers. “I thought, ‘Oh my God, this isn’t possible. There must be some mistake.’”
The Final Confirmation
After Bundy was released on bail, Cowell Martin met him for lunch with friends. When one of them jokingly asked, “You’re not the Ted Bundy, are you?” his response chilled her to the core.
“He smiled and said, ‘Yeah, that’s me,’ with a lot of pride in his voice.”
But the moment she knew without a doubt came shortly after. Bundy had been waiting in her car while she ran into a store. When she returned, she saw a crowd gathering on a nearby street corner.
“He was standing in the middle, arms out like a Messiah, loudly proclaiming, ‘I am Ted Bundy.’”
That was it. Any lingering denial was gone. She never saw him again in person.
The Burden of His Legacy
Bundy was executed in 1989, and while the world saw justice served, Cowell Martin was left with a different kind of pain.
“I was devastated because I was grieving for the person he could have been,” she confesses.
For years, she tried to bury the trauma, shielding her family from the burden of her past. Even her daughter remained unaware until Cowell Martin began working on Dark Tide.
Why She’s Finally Speaking Out
The decision to share her story wasn’t easy, but during the COVID-19 pandemic, she realized that carrying this secret was an unbearable weight.
“It was such a relief to get this off my chest,” she admits. “I get to tell my story my way.”
More than just a memoir, her book sheds light on the forgotten victims—the women whose remains have never been found. Their families still wait for closure, something Bundy robbed them of.
And as for Cowell Martin? She’s finally stepping out of the shadow of her cousin’s infamy, determined to reclaim her story from the darkness.
