When 51-year-old Gayle Foulke gathered up her grocery bags and made her way out of her apartment building at 2332 N. High St. a little before 8 a.m. Thursday, nothing could have prepared her for what would happen next.As the 5-foot-4-inch, 80-pound woman left through the building’s west exit door, Columbus police said a shot rang out from behind her that ended her life. She slumped and bled to death behind the building.In the meantime, her self-confessed assailant, 41-year-old Christian Dumperth made his way back into his apartment. He locked up the large-caliber handgun he’d owned for some 20 years, made his way back out into the hallway and began to knock on his neighbors’ doors, according to police.John Crawford, a 22-year-old Columbus State Community College student, was the first to answer.”It was about 7:45 or so and I was sleeping,” said Crawford, whose three brothers and a sister live in the same building. “I came to the door in my boxers, thinking it was a sibling.”Instead, it was Dumperth staring blankly back at Crawford.”When I opened the door and saw (Dumperth’s) face, I knew something was seriously wrong,” Crawford said. “Then, in this really low, raspy kind of whisper, he said that he needed me to call the police; that a lady was shot out back.”With that, Crawford said he darted to a nearby window to find a gruesome scene: A woman, hunched over bleeding in the alley. After calling 911, Crawford says he went downstairs to a closer window to have a better look. That was when he realized the victim was his neighbor.”I could barely see her face because it was covered in blood, but then I got a better angle and knew that it was my neighbor lady from downstairs. That really freaked me out.”According to Columbus Division of Police, Dumperth confessed to shooting Foulke as soon as officers arrived at the apartment building. He told detectives that he had heard something and that “he knew he had to kill someone.”Police said Dumperth was taken to Grant Medical Center and treated for malnutrition, where he remains under supervision.When questioned about Dumperth’s disposition, another neighbor, who wished to remain anonymous, said he had never even had a conversation with Dumperth.”Except for passing each other in the hallway every now and again, we never spoke. Maybe we’d nod hello to each other, but we never had a conversation,” the neighbor said.From 1988 until this past December, Dumperth worked as a janitor in Kennedy Commons, said Ohio State spokeswoman Elizabeth Conlisk. No former co-workers could be reached for comment.The same kind of anti-social behavior was characteristic of Foulke as well, Crawford said.Crawford’s sister, Megan, knew Foulke to be quiet and reclusive. Foulke never had any friends or relatives over, never played any loud music and just kept to herself, Megan told police.Crawford’s brother echoed this sentiment.”It’s not like (Dumperth) had any kind of grudge against (Foulke). I don’t think anyone could have. She never made a peep,” he said.According to Crawford, when Dumperth’s family came to clean out his apartment, they said they hadn’t seen or heard from their son in about 13 years.As for Crawford, he says he’s still a little shaken by the whole thing.”There could have been as many dead bodies as (Dumperth) had bullets in that gun,” Crawford said. “I mean, here’s this guy who lived underneath me, who I hardly knew or even spoke to; just a quiet, weird guy who kept to himself, who turns out to be the Ted Kaczynski of my building. (He and Foulke) never had any issues with each other. They barely even knew each other, and now she’s dead and he’s lying in a hospital bed, trying to figure out why he just murdered this random human being. It’s just crazy.”