In most cases, serial killers are brutal, woefully uneducated young men, lifelong sadists who kill for their own twisted reasons. Perhaps Albright was a touch eccentric, but he was certainly harmless he was even squeamish when it came to violence. The evidence pointed to him, they claimed, not to their beloved Charles Albright. The person who should have been arrested, Albright’s friends and lawyers insisted, was Axton Schindler, a paranoid, fast-talking truck driver who lived in one of Albright’s rental homes. It was simply impossible to believe that he could have viciously murdered three Dallas prostitutes in late 1990 and early 1991. He was, they said, a kind of Renaissance man-fluent in French and Spanish, a masterful painter, able to woo women by playing Chopin preludes on the piano or reciting poetry by Keats. Throughout his life, Albright had been described by many who knew him as the portrait of happiness, untroubled and troubling no one. “I’m not going to tell you anything that’s not true.” Even in his prison uniform, he looked positively distinguished. At 59, he had a finely sculpted face and carefully groomed gray hair. Then the man whom the Dallas police had called the coldest, most depraved killer of women in the city’s history gave me a long gentle stare, his dark deep-set eyes never wavering, an encouraging half-smile on his lips. “They do not allow me to have face-to-face visits.” “I apologize for not being able to shake your hand and say hello,” he said, formally rising as I approached his window in the visiting room. Read more here about our archive digitization project.Ĭharles Albright patiently waited behind an unbreakable glass wall, watching as the prison guard escorted me through three sets of steel-barred doors. We have left it as it was originally published, without updating, to maintain a clear historical record. This story is from Texas Monthly ’s archives.
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