Husband, father remembers vibrant lives of slain women

As David Stodden left for work July 11 he suggested his wife cancel her plans to hike Mount Pilchuck with their daughter that day and go someplace with less snow.

About 14 hours later, with no word from his wife, Mary Cooper, or daughter Susanna, a frantic Stodden was on the phone trying to reach a firefighter, cop or 911 dispatcher in Snohomish County, fearing the women had been in an accident. Within an hour, Stodden, his backpack slung over his shoulders and ice ax in hand, was determined to drive to the mountain and find them himself.

But as he climbed into his pickup, two Snohomish County sheriff's detectives pulled up to his home in Seattle's Green Lake neighborhood to break the news: Cooper, his wife of 28 years, and 27-year-old Susanna Stodden were found dead in the Mount Baker-Snoqualmie National Forest. At the time detectives couldn't tell him whether they were slain or attacked by an animal.

A week and a half later, the reality that the women were killed by an unknown killer or killers is beginning to sink in for Stodden and his two other daughters. But he said the passage of time doesn't ease the pain, even as Snohomish County sheriff's detectives continue to search for clues to the slaying.

"When I talked to the detectives and heard they might not find anybody, I got angry," said Stodden, 56. "I want us to catch the people who did this. I think the people who did this are horrendous and could do it again, if they haven't already."

Thus far, detectives have released little information, other than to say the women were shot and that the slayings may have been random. Robbery doesn't appear to be a motive and Stodden said police told him nothing had been stolen from the women; their IDs, keys and wallets were found in their backpacks.

Sitting in his back yard Wednesday afternoon next to the swing set he built for his three daughters, Stodden talked at length about his family for the first time since the slayings.

He grew tearful as he recalled Susanna's antics as a child — her courage when hiking the toughest of trails and fierce loyalty to friends. He smiled as he remembered his first date with Cooper — she was his next-door neighbor, a fellow University of Washington student and the smartest woman he knew.

Plans for a family

When they met nearly 30 years ago, Cooper, a native of the Pittsburgh area, was getting a master's degree in speech therapy and he was studying contemporary dance. The couple shared a love of hiking and gardening. They talked often about having children.

"She was a brilliant woman and in those days a lot of women didn't want to act as smart as they really were," Stodden said.

The couple soon bought their Green Lake home, got married and had their first daughter, Susanna. Joanna and Elissa soon followed.

From the time the girls were babies, hiking was a regular Sunday excursion in the Stodden-Cooper home.

Susanna, her father said, went hiking several times a month most of her life. She and her mother trekked to the mountains, studied plants and attended African music concerts together.

"She always had a lot of courage, even when she was small," Stodden said of his eldest daughter.

Susanna had taken the summer off from work — her most recent job was with Seattle Audubon — before starting next month as a first-year teaching intern at the University Child Development School.

She regularly participated in programs sponsored by the Simple Living Network, a Washington-based nonprofit that, according to its Web site, teaches members how to live a more "conscious, simple, healthy and restorative" life. It was through the group that she met her longtime boyfriend, her father said.

Susanna's roommate, Catie Light, said she never wanted to be the center of attention and worried that if she teased someone it might be taken personally. Above all, she loved hiking, Light recalled.

The hiking guides at her apartment near the Ravenna neighborhood are filled with notes about when to hike each trail and which trails are the best, said Light. "It was like she had walked everything in the books," Light said.

But Stodden's passions went beyond hiking.

She studied environmental education at Western Washington University and was conscientious about everything from food to shopping locally. When Stodden went raspberry picking a few months ago, she called ahead to farms to find the one that used the least pesticides, Light said. She was also a vegetarian.

Though she never tried to force her values on others, they rubbed off anyway, Light said.

"Her demeanor was absolutely not preachy," she said. But, Light added, "in her subtle way I felt like she was a leader."

She also had a low tolerance for violence, Light said. When a violent scene would come on TV, Stodden would cover her eyes or change the channel and say, "no gracias, no gracias" — Spanish for "no thank you."

Longtime librarian

Cooper, 56, had been a librarian for Seattle's Alternative Elementary School No. 2 at Decatur the past 15 years. She previously taught sign language for the Seattle School District, her husband said. Even though it was summertime, she went to school several times a week to order new books and prepare for the new year, Stodden said.

"She wanted to have the best library she could," Stodden said.

Fellow teachers, as well as longtime friends and acquaintances, have stopped by the couple's house to share stories and photographs with Stodden, which has helped buoy the family's spirits.

"What really has sustained me are all the wonderful people who have come through my house," Stodden said.

Except for a two-hour bike ride Tuesday, Stodden has had few moments alone to grieve.

Looking around their well-tended garden Wednesday afternoon, Stodden recalled his wife's love of roses and wildflowers. He said they often had "turf wars" over where he could grow his vegetables and where she could plant flowers. Cooper, he said, loved to pluck broccoli from his rows for a quick snack.

Stodden told Cooper recently that he was going to tear down a treehouse he built for Susanna 25 years ago.

Though the treehouse is now home to an unused boat, plants and an old dresser, Cooper dreamed of the day it would be used by their grandchildren. She demanded that it stay put.

Jennifer Sullivan: 206-464-8294