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In memory of my father.

And with all my love for my mother,

David, Aaron, Margot, Penny,

and especially Pamela.

Acknowledgments

I am especially indebted to Inspector Dave Toschi, Sherwood Morrill, Paul

Avery, Herb Caen, Margot St. James, and the Owl and the Monkey, Inc.
Thanks to Richard Marek, my editor, for sensitive and perceptive directions
on what path to follow.

Killing someone is just like walking outdoors If I wanted a victim, I'd just
go get one. I didn't even consider a person a human being.

— Henry Lee Lucas, serial killer, 1984

We have madmen waiting. . . .

— Mideast terrorist leader, 1978

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20. Zodiac 302 Epilogue 306

APPENDICES

Zodiac Attack Victims and Possible Victims 308

The Zodiac Letters 312

Riverside Writings 313

Zodiac s Handprinting 313

Zodiacs Speech Patterns 314

Zodiacs Phrasing 314

Zodiac Descriptions 316

Zodiac's Cars 318

Zodiacs Weapons 319

Zodiacs Materials 319

Zodiacs Training 320

Zodiacs Method of Operation 321

Psychological Profile of Zodiac 321 sources 324 selected references 326

INDEX 327

Introduction

After Jack the Ripper and before Son of Sam there is only one ame their
equal in terror: the deadly, elusive, and mysterious Zodiac. Since 1968 the
hooded mass murderer has terrified the city of San Francisco and the Bay
Area with a string of brutal killings. Zodiac, in taunting letters sent to the
newspapers, has hidden clues to his identity by using cunning ciphers that
have defied the greatest codebreaking minds of the CIA, the FBI, and NSA.

I was the political cartoonist for the largest paper in northern California, the
San Francisco Chronicle, so I was there from the beginning as each cryptic
letter, each coded message, each swatch of victim's bloody clothing arrived
at the editorial desk. At first I was merely fascinated by the purely visual
qualities of Zodiac's symbols. Then, gradually, a resolve grew within me to
unravel the killer's clues, to discover his true identity, and, failing that, at
least to present every scrap of evidence available so that someday someone
might recognize the Zodiac killer.

When I started writing this book I realized that two obstacles lay ahead of
me. First, the various suspects and few surviving victims had scattered and
many of the witnesses were in hiding. To discover the missing facts I had to
find the missing witnesses.

One had changed her name six times. Another who had escaped Zodiac had
been hiding for a decade, using many different names. Eventually I found
her through a postmark on a Christmas card. Second, the murders had taken
place in different counties, and, due to interdepartmental jealousy, each
police agency had vital information the others were unaware of. From each
county, from garages where files had been taken as souvenirs, from files
saved just moments from destruction, I brought all the elements together for
the first time and began to paint a complete picture of Zodiac.

In 1975, after several years of interest in the case, I became aware that there
were unsuspected Zodiac murders and that one of Zodiac's early victims
may have known his true name. This victim, in the act of turning Zodiac
into the police, had been murdered.

There is no defense against the compulsive, random killer. The serial killer
is unquenchable in his bloodlust, and California seems to have more than its
share of serial murders (just second in the country after New York).
Multiple murders, a recent phenomenon, are now claiming between 500 and
1500 American lives each year, according to the Justice Department.
The Zodiac murders were not simply killings. They were sex crimes in
which the killer reduced the victims to objects that existed only to give him
sexual pleasure achieved through violent acts. The hunt for the victims was
the foreplay and the attack the substitute for the sex act. Zodiac (a sexual
sadist) achieved his sexual pleasure by torturing and killing because
violence and love are hopelessly intertwined and confused in his mind.

Sexual sadists have a tendency (like most serial murderers) to be quite

intelligent and become amazingly proficient at concealing themselves after
their first killing. The cat-and-mouse game they play with the police may
become the principal motive for the crimes. Once the killer is captured, his
detailed and grisly confession itself is a brutal attack. Though no one knows
what creates a sexual sadist many doctors suspect a damaged sex
chromosome or an event early in life. Cruel and rejecting parents and peers
may create pressures that are expressed in childhood by bedwetting,

shoplifting, and animal mutilation and torture. With the awakening of

puberty, the anger manifests itself in ever increasing, cleverly concealed
acts of sadism.

If there is one key word for the entire story of the Zodiac mystery, it is
obsession. The lure of the case has destroyed marriages, derailed careers,
ruined health, as over 2500 Zodiac suspects were scanned, people were
swept away by a tide of mystery, tragedy, and loss.

I wanted this book to accomplish something, to effect a change, to stop the

killer. Slowly each strange symbol and cipher broke away and I learned
how the killer wrote the untraceable Zodiac letters, why he killed when he
did, and even the inspiration for his crossed-circle symbol and his
executioner's costume.

This is the true story of a pursuit that spans almost two decades and still
goes on. I have included hundreds of facts never revealed in print before. It
is as accurate an account as eight years of research can provide. Over the
years, only fragments of the Zodiac letters were released by the police or
reprinted and reproduced by the newspapers. In this book, for the first time,
is every word Zodiac wrote the police.
In a very few cases it was necessary to delete the last names of some
witnesses. They are known by the police. The names of several major
Zodiac suspects have been changed; some facets of their past work records,
educational degrees, and geographical locations have been altered. In the
cases where it was necessary to change a name this is noted in the text. In
the chapter on Andrew Todd Walker limited portions of dialogue were
reconstructed for purposes of narrative flow.

Witchcraft, death threats, cryptograms, a hooded killer still sought,

dedicated investigators, and a mysterious man in a white Chevy who is seen
by all and known by no one are all parts of the Zodiac mystery, the most
frightening story I know.

— Robert Graysmith San Francisco May 198S

Map of Zodiac's Northern California victims. Map by R. Graysmith.

David Faraday and Betty Lou Jensen

Friday, December 20, 1968

When he hiked in the rolling hills overlooking Vallejo, David Faraday could
catch glimpses of the Golden Gate Bridge, the saltwater fishermen,
sailboats and speedboats on San Pablo Bay, and the wide, tree-lined streets
of the town. He could make out the black skeletal derricks, the piers,
battleships, brick smokestacks, and three-tiered warehouses of Mare Island,
the great gray mass lying across the straits.

In World War II thousands swarmed to the area to do navy work, and

Vallejo was transformed into a boom town. Cheap housing units of plywood
and plasterboard were thrown up, temporary constructions. By the 1960s
they had become permanent black ghettos, fosterers of race hatred and gang
violence that reached into the high schools.

David Arthur Faraday, seventeen, a scholar and varsity athlete, was one of
the top students at Vallejo High School. As 1968 drew to a close, David had
met a pretty, dark-haired sixteen-year-old, Betty Lou Jensen, who lived
across town. He had been going over to see her almost every day since.
Today, at 5:00 p.m., David and Betty Lou were talking with some friends on
Annette Street about

their date for that night. It was to be their first date together.

David left at 6:00, and at 7:10 drove his sister, Debbie, to a meeting of the
Rainbow Girls at the Pythian Castle on Sonoma Boulevard. David told
Debbie that he and Betty Lou might be going out to Lake Herman Road at
the end of their date because he'd heard "a bunch of the kids were going out
there tonight."

David returned home, to his parents' green, brown-shingled, T-shaped house

on Sereno Drive, surrounded by a manicured hedge and two massive round
shrubs, all dwarfed by the soaring poplar tree on the right.

By 7:20 David was dressing for his date. He wore a light-blue long-sleeve
shirt, brown corduroy Levi-type pants, black socks, and tan, rough-leather,
low-cut boots. He put his Timex wrist-watch with chrome case and band on
his left wrist, and shoved a dollar and fifty-five cents, all in change, in his
right front pants pocket. He pocketed a white handkerchief and a small
bottle of Binaca breath drops. On the middle finger of his left hand he fitted
his yellow metal class ring with its red stone. David combed his short
brown hair diagonally across his forehead, above large, intelligent eyes and
a generous mouth, then slipped on his beige sportcoat.

David said good-bye to his parents and left the house at 7:30. He took a
deep breath of the very cool night air (it was only 22 degrees), and walked
to the 1961 Rambler brown-and-beige four-door station wagon that was
registered in his mother's name.

He backed the Rambler out of the driveway and took Fairgrounds Drive to
Interstate Highway 80 for the one and one-quarter miles to the Georgia
Street exit. From Georgia David made a right turn on Hazelwood and rode
on Hazehvood until he came to 123 Ridgewood, a low, flat house bordered
by ivy and lean, tall trees. David pulled to a stop in front. It was 8:00.

Betty Lou Jensen, like David, was hardworking, studious, serious, and had
a spotless reputation. As far as her parents knew she and David were going
to a Christmas carol concert at her school, Hogan High, only a few blocks
away.

Betty Lou took one last look in the mirror and adjusted the colored ribbon
in her hair; her long brown straight hair framed

her face and came down over her shoulders. She was wearing a purple
mini-dress with white cuffs and collar that made her dark, widely spaced
eyes look mysterious. She had on black T-strap shoes.

Betty Lou looked nervously over her right shoulder toward the window to
be sure the blinds were drawn. She often told her sister Melody that she
thought a boy from school was spying on her, and on several occasions
Mrs. Jensen had found the gate open leading to the side of the house. A
classmate? Or was someone else spying on her?

While he waited for Betty Lou, David spoke with her father, Verne. Her
parents were from the Midwest, but Betty Lou had been born in Colorado,
like David's mother.
When Betty Lou came out, David helped her with her white fur coat. Purse
in hand, she kissed heT dad good-bye, told him that they were going to a
party after the concert, and at 8:20 left, promising to be back by 11:00.

Instead of going to the concert, the two went to visit Sharon, another
student, on Brentwood, close to the school. At 9:00 Sharon walked them out
to their car. They didn't say where they were going next.

At about the same time, out on Lake Herman Road, a few miles east of the
Vallejo city limits, two racoon hunters, who had just parked their red pickup
inside of the Marshall Ranch, noticed a white four-door hardtop '60
Chevrolet I m pa la parked by the entrance to the Benicia Water Pumping
Station. There was a truck coming out of the pumping station gate onto the
isolated road at the time.

At 9:30 an unusual incident occurred on this spot. A boy and his date had
parked the girl's sports car just off the winding road so he could adjust its
motor. Both saw a car, possibly a blue Valiant, coming down the road from
Benicia into Vallejo. As the car passed the couple, it slowed, went a few
yards down the road, and stopped in the middle of the road. They saw its
white backup lights come on. And then the car started backing up toward
them with excruciating slowness. There was such menace, such an aura of
malignancy about the actions that the youth put his date's car

in gear and took off at high speed. The Valiant followed them. When the
couple got to the Benicia turnoff, they turned. The other car continued
straight ahead.

At 10:00 p.m., Bingo Wesher, a sheepherder at the Old Borges Ranch, was
checking his sheep in the area east of the Benicia pumping station when he
noticed a white Chevrolet Impala sedan parked by the entrance to the
station in front of the gate. He also saw the racoon hunters' '59 Ford truck.

After Betty Lou and David had a Coke at Mr Ed's, a local drive-in, they
drove east on Georgia and turned left onto Columbus Parkway. At the city
limits of Vallejo, David turned right onto narrow, winding Lake Herman
Road.
They passed the great towers of the SVAR Rock and Asphalt Paving
Materials Company, its machinery eating away at an orangc-and-tan
mountainside. There were silver mines here, and David had heard of two
men who planned on operating a quicksilver mine in the farmland. Small
ranches crowded the road the first mile. By day the hillsides were dotted
with black-and-white cows grazing on the pale yellow hills against sharp
blue skies. Now, the night slid thick and black behind the beams of the
Rambler's headlights. David and Betty Lou headed east to a remote lover's
lane. Police traveled it periodically, warning couples of the possible dangers
of parking in such an isolated area.

Just before 10:15, David pulled off the road to the right and parked fifteen
feet off it, facing south, in the graveled area outside gate #10, the chainlink-
fenced entrance to the Lake Herman pumping station. He locked all four
doors, put Betty Lou's white fur coat and purse and his own sportcoat on the
seat behind the driver's seat, and turned on the car heater. He tilted the
adjustable front seat back to a forty-five-degree angle.

There were no lamp poles, and the rocky clearing was surrounded by gently
mounded hills and farmland. The spot was popular for lovers because the
kids could see the lights from any police cruiser as it came around the curve
in the road, which gave them time to get rid of beer or grass.

At 10:15 a woman and her boyfriend, a sailor, drove by. When

they reached the end of the road and came back past fifteen minutes later,
the car was still there, but was now facing out toward the road in a
southeast direction

At 10:50 Mrs. Stella Borges arrived at her ranch on Lake Herman Road,
exactly two and seven-tenths miles from where Betty Lou and David were
parked. As Mrs. Borges came in the door the phone rang and she began a
conversation with her mother. They agreed that Mrs. Borges would pick up
her thirteen-year-old son at a show later that night

At 11:00 Mrs. Peggie Your and her husband, Homer, drove out to Lake
Herman Road in their gold '67 Grand Prix to check out the sewer and water
pipes his company was installing near the pump house. When they passed
the Rambler, Mrs. Your saw David sitting in the driver's seat and the girl
leaning against his shou l der. When the lights from the Yours' car
illuminated the gate area, she could see David put his hands on the steering
wheel.

After looking over the construction site, the Yours went to the bottom of the
hill and turned into the Marshall Ranch to turn to go back toward Benicia.
They could see the racoon hunters' red pickup parked in the field twenty-
five feet in. The two hunters, in stocking caps and hunting jackets, were in
the truck. After turning around, the Yours came back past the Rambler.
David and Betty Lou were still sitting in the same position.

The racoon hunters had returned to their pickup by walking up the road on
the side of the creek. They had been about to leave when they saw the
Yours' car pull into the driveway It was 11:05 when they finally left, and
both men noticed the Rambler parked alone by the gate, now facing in
toward it.

When another car came around the bend in the road and caught them in its
headlights, like glowing eyes peeking over a hill, Betty Lou and David may
have been holding each other. Instead of passing the station wagon, this car
pulled up next to them, to their right, about ten feet away.

The figure in the car was probably in silhouette, hunched and stocky like
the surrounding dark hills, flat as a paper cutout. In the darkness there may
have been a momentary glint of light, as

if from glasses. The man was wearing a windbreaker.

There the two cars sat, side by side, just off a desolate country road.

At 11:10 a worker from Humble Oil in Benicia was on his way home when
he passed the Rambler at the gate. He noticed it, but the make and color of
the other car failed to register with him.

The oil worker's auto disappeared in the distance.

A dry breeze rattled the frozen grass along the road.

This is what may have happened next:

The new arrival finally rolled his window down and spoke to David and
Betty Lou, asking them to get out of the car.

Astonished, the young couple refused. The stocky man opened his car door.
And as he got out, he pulled a gun from under his dark jacket.

The stranger stood glaring down at Betty Lou, whose window was open.
Instead of forcing himself in through the most obvious entry—on the
passenger side—the stranger began stalking around the car. He paused,
aimed at the rear right window just off center, above the chrome stripping in
its lower part, and fired a bullet. It shattered the glass. He moved to the left
side of the car and fired a bullet into the left rear wheel housing. His
intention seemed to be to herd the youngsters out of the right side of the car.

He succeeded. As both of the teenagers scrambled out of the passenger side,

the stranger raced around to the right side of the car.

Betty Lou had gotten out. As David slid across the seat and turned his head
getting out, the man reached through the open left window with the gun and
pressed the barrel behind the upper part of the boy's left ear and pulled the
trigger. The bullet angled horizontally forward, leaving behind the powder
burns of a contact wound. It exploded the boy's skull.

Betty Lou screamed and ran northward, parallel with the road and toward
Vallejo. Racing after the girl, gun extended, less than ten feet behind her,
the stocky man shot Betty Lou five times. He hit her in a tight pattern in the
upper right portion of her back.

This was incredible marksmanship: a moving target, a moving gunman

running over gravel, on an almost totally dark country road.

Betty Lou fell dead exactly twenty-eight feet and six inches from the
Rambler's rear bumper. The fleeing girl had never even reached the
pavement of the road.
She lay on her right side, face down, her feet to the west. David was on his
back, feet pointing toward the right rear wheel. He was breathing in an
almost imperceptible rasp. A large pool of blood was beginning to form
about his head.

The stocky man backed his sedan up and drove away down the dark,
twisting road.

Mrs. Borges, still in her coat, hung up the phone and got her mother-in-law
and daughter for the drive to Benicia. She glanced at the kitchen clock. It
was 11:10.

It took her four to five minutes, at thirty-five miles an hour, to reach the site
where David had parked. As she turned the corner of the road at the edge of
the chainlink fence, her headlights illuminated the dreadful sight.

At first Mrs. Borges thought the man had fallen out of the car. Then, near a
yellow diamond traffic sign, she saw Betty Lou. The right front door of the
Rambler was still open; the hum of its heater was audible in the stillness.

Mrs. Borges accelerated down the narrow thruway to Benicia looking for
help, reaching speeds of sixty to seventy miles per hour. Just north of
Interstate 680 she saw a Benicia patrol car and began to honk and blink her
lights to get their attention. The two can pulled to a stop in front of the Enco
Station on East 2nd Street and she told them of the horror at the edge of the
road. It was 11:19.

The police cruiser proceeded with flashing blue lights to the scene of the
attack and arrived in three minutes. The officers, Captain Daniel Pitta and
Officer William T. Warner, detected shallow breathing from the boy and
called for an ambulance.

They checked over the two-tone Rambler. The motor was lukewarm, the
ignition switched on, the right front door wide open, the other three doors
and tailgate all locked.

They found an expended .22 casing on the right front floorboard of the car.
Because the ground and gravel area was frozen, there were no visible tire
tracks or signs of a struggle.

They covered Betty Lou with a wool blanket. The large pool of blood that
had collected around her body had come mainly from her nose and mouth.
The trail of blood led back to the car.

David was lying face up. Captain Pitta could see from the dark area around
the wound at his left ear that the bullet had been fired at close range. There
was a large lump on his right cheek, and blood on his hands and the sleeves
of his shirt. Warner made a chalk outline of the still figure, its feet close to
the car's right front door.

The blackness was sliced by the red lights of an A-l Ambulance. It slid to a
stop. David was picked up on a stretcher and placed in the back of the
vehicle for a mile-a-minute, siren-screeching trip to Vallejo General
Hospital. On the way, a doctor worked over him.

At 11:29, Pitta called County Coroner Dan Horan. Since the attack had
occurred in an unincorporated section of Solano County, out of the
jurisdiction of the Benicia police, he notified the Solano County Sheriff's
Office by radio and requested a unit and an investigator.

Horan dressed quickly. By midnight, he was at the now bustling scene, with
Dr. Byron Sanford of Benicia. Horan had a habit of taking on all the stress
of such a tragedy, notifying the families of the victims in person. (This
stress contributed to a heart condition that eventually forced him to resign.)
Sanford pronounced Betty Lou dead on the scene—DOS.—and ordered the
body removed for autopsy. First, pictures were taken from as many angles
as possible.

A reporter from the Fairfield Daily Republic, Thomas D. Balmer, had

arrived earlier but was kept back until the Sheriff's investigator arrived at
12:05 a.m.

Detective Sergeant Les Lundblad handled two, maybe three murders in an

entire year. Now he stood thoughtfully in the blackness and coolness of
Lake Herman Road, his small-brimmed hat pulled down over his battered,
weatherlined country face. He
had rarely been without that hat since he'd become a detective jergeant for
the Sheriffs Office in 1963.

Lundbbd made a sketch of the scene, working by his flashlight and the
floodlights set up for the photographers and fingerprint men. The stillness
was punctuated by the static of the radios from the police cars that now
rimmed the road.

Lundbbd ordered his men. Officers Butterbach and Waterman, to the

hospital to get a statement from David At 12 23 they arrived at the intensive
care unit sought out nurse Barbara Lowe, and were told that the boy had
arrived at the hospital DO A He had been pronounced dead at 12.05.

The officers called the Sheriff's Office and had Deputy JR. Wilson come to
the facility, where he took photos of the dose-range powder burns on the
boy's left ear, the lump on his right cheek, and the blood-matted hair.

Out on Lake Herman Road, the Rambler was dusted for latent prints. Then
the policemen fanned out and began searching for the gun and other potable
does. The Benicia officers took measurements. Lundbbd recorded diem.

The photos and evidence gathered by the Benicia police would be turned
over to the Solano County Sheriffs Office. Pitta and Warner had preserved a
fairly good crime scene, the body had been isolated from its surroundings
and nothing had been moved until it had been photographed, identified, and
painstakingly mcawiicd so that the evidence could be brought to court
untainted. Even so there were scant tangible dues. Checks were done for
semen.

Beyond the chalk outline of the boy's head were even more empty sheD
casings; a l t o g ether , nine more expended casings were recovered. The
murder weapon proved likely to be a 22-calibeT J.C. Higgins model 80 or
Hi Standard mode) 101 The bullets were Super X copper-coated long riSc
ammo made by Winchester since October 1967, which made it pretty new.

A ricochet mark was found on the roof of the station wagon, and very slight
shocp riu ts were found in front of the parked car, leading to die pawrngn
side. Abo, a deep heel print was found behind the pump house beyond die
locked fence.

One of the ambulance attendants noted that he had never seen so much
blood by the side of a road in his entire life. "It was an exceptionally
gruesome case of double murder/' concurred Lund-blad.

At 1:04 a.m. Lundblad left for Vallejo General and then went on to the
Colonial Chapels Funeral home, where he met with Butterbach and
Waterman to confer with Horan on the position of the bullets in Betty Lou
Jensen's body.

Lundblad stood in the shadows. Under the glare of the fluorescent lamps the
mortician removed the clothing from the girl's body. Abruptly, an object fell
from her white-and-pink panties and rolled across the floor to Lundblad's
boots. The detective slowly bent down and picked it up. It was a 22-caliber
pellet that had been trapped after passing through Betty Lou's body. Grimly,
Lundblad placed the slug in a pill bottle, gathered up the bloody clothing,
and returned to his office. Butterbach and Waterman worked until 4:30 am
and then called it a night.

An autopsy was performed on Betty Lou at noon, and on David an hour and
a half later. It was at 1:38 that Dr. S. Shirai, the pathologist, found the bullet
that had killed David, badly battered, flattened against the right side of the
victim's skull. This was sent to Lundblad in cotton.

From the victims and the vehicle, seven slugs were reclaimed. Four of these
slugs were in good condition, the remaining three in damaged condition.
(Two were never recovered, lost somewhere in the field by Lake Herman
Road.) Each recovered bullet had a right hand (clockwise) twist with six
lands and six grooves —a "six and six."

When a gun is made, a rod studded with metal burrs, a "broach," is drawn
through the barrel, leaving behind a spiral set of imperfections, the "rifling."
This cuts into the fired bullet's sides, making it rotate and giving it better
flight steadiness as it leaves the barrel. The process also leaves identifying
markings on the bullet. These are called "grooves" (the spiral notches) and
"lands" (the spaces in between the grooves). Like fingerprints, the imprints
make the slug unique to the gun it was fired from. Under a comparison
microscope, "ejector" and "extractor" marks can also link a spent shell to a
specific gun.

As Lundblad put it, "The investigation would be handled like the limbs on a
tree/' He would methodically follow each lead as it branched from the facts.
He began by making mileage and time studies, driving the distances from
suspects' and witnesses' homes at various speeds. The victims' last day was
exactingly reconstructed minute by minute; thirty-four detailed statements
were taken. Lundblad investigated the private lives of the two victims,
working almost around the clock. The family and friends of Betty Lou and
David were questioned, as well as the routine local suspects. Among other
possibilities, there were 290 registrants from Napa State Hospital for the
Insane living in the area.

From Betty Lou's family Horan learned that there was a lovesick boy who
had been "bugging" her at school and who had threatened David ("I'm
thinking about using brass knucks on you"). They also suspected this boy
might have been the one prowling about the yard at night. Horan passed this
information on to Lundblad, who discovered the suspect had an airtight
alibi: After his sister's birthday party the boy watched Global Affair on TV
until 11:00—in the company of a Mare Island policeman.

Leads from the public were followed up ("Look for a dark car without any
chrome . . ."). But there seemed to be no motive to the brutal slayings—
outside of killing for the sheer joy of it. Lundblad could find no attempt at
robbery or sexual molestation of the victims. Perhaps the killing itself had
served as a sexual release for the murderer.

The news from Criminal Identification and Investigation (CI&I) in

Sacramento was no better:

In addition to subjecting to further tests any J C Higgins, Model 80

automatic pistol recovered, further tests should be made on any weapons
having the following characteristics.

a. Cartridge cases. Semicircular firing pin impressions at 12 o'clock

position, small extractor markings at 3 o'clock position. Very faint ejector
marking at 8 o'clock position (latter may not always be detectable).

b. Weapon barrel or test bullets: Six right-hand grooves, land and groove
ratio 1:1 + . Bullet groove width approximately .056 inch. Bullet land width
approximately .060 inch.

Due to lack of sufficient unique structure it appears that considerable

difficulty will be encountered in positively identifying the responsible
weapon if it should be recovered. . . . From our examination it appears that
a conclusive identification of the responsible weapon wiD be extremely
difficult, if not impossible, even though it should be recovered.

Examination of the dress (Item 9) revealed one hole in the front near the
center and five holes in the upper right side of the back.

No smoke or gunpowder residue was found in the vicinity of any of these

holes except the topmost hole on the back. Near the latter one single grain
of gunpowder was found. From these examinations, it therefore appears that
the weapon was held at least several feet from the victim at the time of the
shooting. The minimum distance it could have been held cannot be
established without testing of the responsible weapon when it is recovered.

There were no witnesses, no motives, and no suspects.

Dartene Ferrin

Saturday, December 21, 1968

"This is scary. I knew the two kids who were killed on Lake Herman Road/'
confided Darlene Ferrin to her co-worker Bobbie Ramos.

"You did?" asked Bobbie.

"Yeah, I'm not going up there again/' Darlene said to her with a shiver.

"I was standing at the counter talking to her/' Bobbie told me later, "I can
remember part just plain. She was saying,' You know it gives me an eerie
feeling.' She knew them either from Hogan High School ... I don't know
how close she knew them, but she knew who they were, more so the girl."
Hogan High School was just over a block from Betty Lou Jensen's home.
Darlene had been a student there.

Every Friday, Saturday, and Sunday night Bobbie Ramos worked with
Darlene until three in the morning at Terry's Restaurant on Magazine Street
in Vallejo.

"One thing about Darlene," Bobbie recalled later, "she talked to everyone. I
used to tell her, 'Don't talk to everybody, everybody's not your friend. You
just think they are.' She was so

friendly people waited in line to get in her section. Darlene had braces on.
Twenty-two and she wean braces. She looked more like seventeen. And
acted seventeen. She had a Kewpie doll look, braces on, short blond hair,
the type you want to take home."

Darlene weighed 130 pounds and was five feet five inches tall, with light
brown hair and a penetrating blue gaze. Photos of her taken five yean
earlier, when she was sixteen, showed a remarkable resemblance to Betty
Lou Jensen.

"When she didn't put her eyeglasses on she wore false eyelashes. She used
to buy them by the dozen for us/' said Bobbie. "Darlene was happy,
laughing, joking, outgoing, not shy. Talkative. . . . She didn't mind meeting
new people, new friends."

Darlene, her second husband, Dean, and their baby girl, Dena, lived at 560
Wallace in a building owned by Bill and Carmela Leigh, Dean's bosses at
Caesar's Palace Italian Restaurant, where he worked as an assistant cook.

Wednesday, February 26, 1969

Karen, Darlene's seventeen-year-old babysitter, went to the front window

and looked out onto Wallace Street. The car had been there since 10:00
p.m., and she was sure the man inside was watching the Ferrins' ground-
level apartment.
The car was an American-made sedan, white colored with a large
windshield, but it was so dark out that she couldn't read the license number
even though the car was parked only about eight feet away.

The glow of a match flickered inside the car. The man in it lit a cigarette,
and Karen got a partial look at him. He was heavyset, with a round face and
curly, wavy dark brown hair. She thought he was middle-aged.

Karen was so distressed that she went into baby Dena's room and stayed
close to her crib until Dean got home from work. Karen went to the
window, debating whether to tell Dean about the stranger, but decided
against it when she saw the white car was gone.

Thursday, February 27, 1969

Darlene was in the bathroom putting on her makeup to go out when Karen
told her about the stranger.

"What did the car look like?" Darlene asked.

Karen told her.

"I guess he's checking up on me again. I heard he was back from out of
state." Darlene paused. "He doesn't want anyone to know what 1 saw him
do," she said. "I saw him murder someone."

Darlene mentioned a man's name—a short, common name. But Karen didn't
hear her. She was too intent on the fact that Darlene was obviously
frightened of this stranger.

When Darlene dropped by Terry's Restaurant that night, she was told a
stocky man had been asking questions about her.

Saturday, March 15, 1969

Pam Suennen, Darlene's younger sister, had previously found two packages
on the doorstep of the Ferrins' home, but she had never seen who'd left
them. However, today she opened the front door in time to see a man in
horn-rimmed glasses delivering a third package. She had seen him before,
parked in front of the house in a white car.

"And he told me," Pam remembered, "that under no circumstances was I to

look in that package. He stayed outside the door. He stayed outside in his
car for the longest time after he delivered the package.

"When Darlene came home she asked if anything had come for her. I gave
her the package and she took it into the back room and when I asked her
what it was, she didn't say anything. From that point on she seemed
different. She was real nervous and she took the phone in her bedroom and
made a phone call and then she rushed me out and she took me home real
fast."

Pam was finally able to learn that the first package contained a silver belt
and purse from Mexico and the second package white

and blue flower-print fabric. Darlene planned to use this fabric to make a
jumpsuit.

Bobbie Ramos thought that Darlene's ex-husband, Jim, was in Mexico and
had sent the first two packages through a man he met there. Jim had married
Darlene in January 1966 under an assumed name, Phillips, five months after
his discharge from the San Francisco Army Presidio. "Honest to God!
Darlene was petrified of him/' Bobbie told me later.

A co-worker of Darlene's at the phone company in San Francisco, Bobbie

Oxnam, recalled, "Darlene was leery of Jim. She wouldn't be in the same
room with him by herself. . . . One of the reasons we kicked them out of our
apartment was because Jim had a gun (a .22) and we didn't want that."

Friday, May 9, 1969

Darlene and Dean purchased a small house at 1300 Virginia Street, next to
the Vallejo Sheriff's Office, for $9,500.

Saturday, May 24, 1969

It was the painting party that finally induced Karen to stop babysitting for
Darlene. Darlene had most of her new friends over to the Virginia Street
house to help her clean it up, and Karen stayed with Dena. Three young
men arrived who were so strange that they made Karen uncomfortable and
so she left the house. Too, she had grown tired of covering up for Darlene's
running around with other men, a guilt that had preyed on her mind for the
last five months.

Darlene's younger, rebellious brother, Leo Suennen, was at the party, as

well as the Mageau twins, Mike and David, close friends of Darlene who
outdid themselves trying to do her favors. The other guests were Jay Eisen,
Ron Allen, Rick Crabtree, Paul the bartender (not his real name), Richard
Hoffman, Steve Baldino, and Howard "Buzz" Gordon; the latter three
Vallejo cops. The

only other woman there was Darlene's friend Sydne.

Darlene called her sister, Linda Del Buono, at about noon and asked her to
come over. It was Linda who had first pointed out Darlene's increasing
nervousness and physical degeneration. Darlene would not admit to any
problems. Dean saw no change in his wife.

While Linda was on her way over, another guest, a stocky man, arrived at
Darlene's new house.

"At the painting party," Linda told me later, "she was so scared she begged
me, 'Just go, Linda, just go.' This guy at the party had no business being at
her house, and she told me to stay away from him. He was the only one
dressed neat. Everyone else had old jeans on and was painting.

"I can see his face with my eyes open, I can see him with my eyes closed. I
remember him from later at Terry's, and I remember him at the painting
party and Darlene was scared to death. She didn't expect him to show up. I
can see him sitting there in the chair. The dark-rim glasses, the hair curly,
wavy, an older-type man, he did have the dark-rim glasses like Superman
wean.
"Overweight ... he was five feet eight inches tall or so. Of course he was
sitting down most of the time. I remember going in a little bedroom with
Darlene and I asked, 'Darlene, what's wrong with you?' She was so nervous,
she was so nervous. This guy was scaring the heck out of her. I mean she
couldn't eat. She wasn't smiling. She wasn't being the Darlene that I knew.
Something was bothering her. When I showed up he was already there. And
Darlene begged me, 'Linda, don't go near him. Just don't talk to him.'

" 'Well, who is he?'

" 'Don't talk to him,' insisted Darlene.

"She didn't want me to have anything to do with him. She asked me to leave
'cause she didn't want him to know any part of the family. It was really
strange. I thought about that, but then I went to Texas on my birthday in
June."

Pam, Darlene's younger sister, arrived at the painting party shortly after
Linda left. "I remember seeing this man leave a package on the doorstep at
Wallace Street," she recalled for me,

"and I remember seeing him at the painting party. ... He liked to talk to me
because I'm always a pretty honest person. Darlene got upset with me
because she thought I was telling him too much. Well, he would ask me
something. Darlene said, Tarn, I'm going to stop asking you to my parties if
you don't stop talking to him!' I said, 'I thought you were dating this guy the
way he talks.'

"He was a very well-dressed guy with glasses. He had dark hair. He had a
wart on his thumb. For some reason, I think Darlene met this man in the
Virgin Islands. She mentioned a little bit about drugs. Croups of people
constantly went into the bedroom all the time. I was never allowed back
there.

"Someone mentioned something to the effect that somebody had been

following Darlene and Darlene changed the subject and said, 'Don't worry
about it, nobody's going to hurt me.' She was one of the most trusting
people I've ever seen. I would have been scared to death if I had known
someone was . . .

"I said, 'Darlene, aren't you scared?' She said, 'Nobody's going to do
anything.'"

When Pam left the party, there were still fourteen people left and more
coming. Some of these guests overheard the well-dressed man badgering
Darlene about her sources of income. Hie stranger had a short, common
nickname. Pam thought it was "Bob." (This name has been changed.)

Sunday, June 22, 1969

Linda had just gotten back from Texas and wanted to tell Darlene how her
relatives were, so early in the morning she and her dad, Leo, went to Terry's
Restaurant.

"When I walked into Terry's this one particular day with my dad, the man
from the party was sitting there, and he was watching Darlene all the time,"
Linda told me with a shudder. "He was constantly watching her, and as I
walked in he held the paper up over his face 'cause he noticed me."

The stranger gave Linda a "cold stare" and then went over to

Darlene, saying something to her and then leaving. Linda told her father
about the man. "My dad said, 'Ain't no big thing.' He didn't think anything
of it."

Pam saw the man too "He was sitting at Terry's. I sat next to him. I
remember he was eating strawberry shortcake. And I remember Darlene
was very nervous because I was sitting next to him. He was talking to me
and she was very nervous about the whole thing. She kept whispering to me
to get away from him.

"He wore a leather jacket. He always smelled of leather, even the time he
came to the house to deliver that package. He was the guy who was asking
about her at work, prying into her finances. He was asking me about
Darlene's little girl and what was her relationship with Dean: 'What did she
do with her tips?' and 'She's really got her head together' and 'I understand
Dean never wants to watch the baby.'

"I was there for two and one half hours sitting at that counter and he sat
there the whole time eating strawberry shortcake. Darlene kept telling me to
get away but I didn't want to go home because Harvey, my husband, wasn't
home.

'The man didn't wear his glasses all the time. He put them on when he
looked at the check. They were rim glasses, dark rims, black, so black,"
Pam concluded, "and he drove this car with old California plates. This
man's car was solid white."

"She was scared of somebody," Darlene's friend Bobbie Oxnam told me

later, "she had been scared for some time. It started right after the baby was
born."

"Did she ever mention the name of this stranger?" I asked.

"No. I wish I could say that she did. She would make a statement every
once in a while that she was having trouble or she was terrified of this guy.
She would never go into it in any sort of depth."

Bobbie Ramos recalled for me that "About the beginning of June, Darlene
told me of a man watching her. She told us about him again when we took
her and her daughter to the Solano County Fair." She turned to her husband.
"Do you remember that guy in die white car that used to bother Darlene all
the time,

used to sit out in front of her house all the time, who drove her over here
one day?" Her husband didn't. "He was thirty to twenty-eight and not heavy.
He wore glasses."

"It was real nice when Darlene and Dean first got married/' Carmela Leigh,
the wife of Dean's boss, told me later. "She was funny and we used to laugh
all the time, and then all of a sudden, she went to work at Terry's after the
baby was born and then nobody saw her anymore. She was still funny and
joking and laughing and giddy, but she didn't have time for anybody. She'd
fly into the restaurant and be real excited 'cause she was going somewhere,
just letting her husband know she wouldn't be home when he got home.
That rubbed me wrong because I d'dn't like her being superexcited about
her going out with a bunch of friends when she was married and had a
baby." Carmella used to go over and keep Darlene company while she was
pregnant and after the little girl, Dena, was born she would stop in and have
a cup of coffee when she collected the rent on the apartment. "I only knew
her for probably two years," Carmella recalled wistfully, "she was chubby
and wore braces, and after she had the baby she was even chubbier, a very
sloppy dresser. Then all of a sudden she started dressing real nice and lost a
lot of weight and started fixing her hair, which I thought was great. But then
when that started, her relationship with her husband ended. She was just
never home. She had a whole group of new friends and I never hardly saw
her. I never knew any of her friends or where she went. Our friendship kind
of dwindled because she was never around, never home. Dean never knew
where she was and I never saw her because she was always gone."

Everyone seemed to notice the change in Darlene, who was excitable and
even more high-strung than before. She lost so much weight that people
attributed her nervousness to diet pills. Darlene would talk so fast that she
would i.ix up her words and run them together.

"Dean and her were kind of switchy at times," said Bobbie Oxnam. "They
had their problems same as any newly married couple with a child. . . . She
was very much outgoing. She just liked being around people and Dean
didn't. I think that put a

strain on their marriage at times. She was not a tramp; she was no angel but
she was not a tramp either."

Carmela had often seen Darlene in good clothes and one day commented on
a beautiful halter top with a blouse over it.

"Oh, I bought this at James Sears," said Darlene.

"Shoot," Carmela thought, "here I own my own business and I can't even
shop at James Sears."
"And that's how I knew where she got her clothes," Carmela said to me
later. "Now where did she get the money? Dean never knew where she got
the money to buy clothes from. He was only a cook and she was only a
waitress. She would say that she got them on sale, but I know she used to
buy them at James Sears and that isn't a cheap store.

"So her husband didn't want to think of anything. It never crossed his mind
that she was dealing in narcotics or something. He wouldn't think about it.
He would say, it's just something she's got to get out of her system. She just
turned twenty-one.' "

Among Darlene's friends it was no secret that she had been dating other
men, including policemen from the Sheriffs Office.

"She used to go to San Francisco a lot," Bobbie Ramos recalled. 'That's one
thing we knew, too, 'cause she used to tell her husband. . . . You don't come
home all excited and tell your husband, 'Oh, I had so much fun. I met these
guys in the city and we went to the beach and did this and did that.' "

"A lot of times she'd just go by herself," Bobbie Oxnam said later. "She
loved the surf area to think, she'd sit in the surf and watch the sun come up."

"I heard she didn't drive. What did she do, take the bus?" 1 asked.

"She drove. She drove without a license. She drove all the time. She was
very capable. A lot of times she'd have a friend's car, Dean's boss' car," she
said.

Distant from everyone, Darlene would come home almost at dawn when
Dean was already asleep, creep under the covers, and with one leg out of
bed rock herself quietly to sleep. By the time she awoke, Dean would have
left for work.

Tuesday, June 24, 1969

Darlenc told her younger sister, Christina, "There's going to be some big
things happening in the next few days/' Darlene said this in a very
mysterious way. "And it's really something. Really something big is gonna
happen."

"What?" asked Christina.

"I can't tell you yet but you'll read about it in the paper."

Christina had no idea what Darlene was talking about. 'That was real
confusing," she told Carmela Leigh. "I don't know if it's narcotics or a
murder or a party."

"Then," said Carmela, "we thought Darlene knew something about a

narcotics bust or something she had heard from one of her policemen
friends."

"Darlene never verbalized precisely what made her afraid of this man in the
white car," Bobbie Oxnam later told me. "He had something on her but
what he had I don't know. I have a feeling it's connected with the Virgin
Islands but that's just a hunch. Jim and her got involved with the wrong
people while they were there on their honeymoon. That's why they left so
fast. Now what kind of trouble I can't say."

The couple had hitched to St. Thomas and the Virgin Islands, panhandling,
diving for shells, sleeping on the beach.

Pam suspected that this was where Darlene had seen a murder.

Friday, July 4, 1969

At 3:45 p.m., Dean Ferrin reported for work at the Leighs' Italian restaurant.
Fifteen minutes later, Darlene called her friend Mike Mageau and made a
date to go to the movies in San Francisco at 7:30 that evening.

Mike and his twin brother, David, had first met Darlene at Terry's. "Now
this fellow Mike was a very peculiar fellow," Sergeant John Lynch said
later. "When he and his brother came to Vallejo they went into the coffee
shop and got to talking to Darlene. Apparently she was a really outgoing,
gregarious-type
person and they told her a lie, that they were wanted in Chicago for a
shooting or something like that and 1 guess that's what intrigued her with
the guy in the first place." Bobbie Ramos also recalled that "the twins gave
Darlene a story about running away. One told her he was 4 Warren Beatty'
and the other that he was 'David Jansen.' They gave her some kind of line
and she believed everything. She just fell right in with the deception. You
know, she thought if you had a problem, she had a problem."

In reality they were the sons of the owner of a local pest control agency. An
intense rivalry developed between the twins over the affections of Darlene
and they often fought over driving her to work.

Linda remembered, "Both of these guys were jealous of Darlene. i want to

do her washing/ 'No, I do/ Back and forth they fought over her. It was
pathetic."

The twins were green eyed, black haired, six feet two inches tall, and
extremely thin. They would be twenty in October. Their father said that
Darlene called the Mageau house often, as much as twice a day.

At 4:30 p.m., Bill Leigh opened the doors of his restaurant at 80 14th Street.
At 6:00, Carmcla, who was pregnant and hadn't been working, dropped by
Caesar's to spend an hour or two.

Thirty minutes later, she looked up to see Darlene and her fifteen-year-old
sister, Christina, come into the restaurant. Darlene was wearing a jump suit
that zipped up the front and had red, white, and blue stars all over it. They
had come to see Dean on their way out to Mare Island for the Fourth of July
celebration and boat parade on the channel. Christina was runner-up in the
"Miss Firecracker" competition and they were to ride in the boat parade that
night.

"Darlene went out to Mare Island to ride on one of the boats that was all lit
up," Carmela told me later. "AD I know is that she came into the restaurant
and said she knew some people that had a boat. . . and she was going to go
down there too."
"What time will you be home?" asked Dean. "I'm inviting some people
from the restaurant over to our house for a little party."

"Oh, I'll be home about ten/' said Darlene.

"Well, stop and get some fireworks/' said Dean, "and we'll be there about
midnight."

"O.K."

"She was going to take off and go down to the boat parade and then get the
fireworks/' Carmella recalled. "She was all excited. She had friends and
didn't say who they were only that she was going to ride on their boat. Dean
was kind of worried that if she went off with her friends she might not come
home and he had already invited us all over."

At 6:45, Darlene went into Terry's to tell Bobbie about the party that was
going to be held at her house.

"She just rattled on and on and on," Bobbie Ramos told me. "She stood
right at the cash register, gave some rollers to Jane Rhodes to hold for her,
and was talking about her sister winning 'Miss Firecracker' and she was
going to have a party and she wanted me to come. Finally I said, 'O.K.,
O.K./ but Darlene knew I wouldn't be there and then Harley, the manager,
walked up. 'Get out of here and quit bothering my girls/ he said. He wasn't
mad. She used to do it all the time. When Darlene left at 7:00 she said, i'm
going to come back to see you.' "

An hour later, Mike received a call from Darlene saying that she had to
spend some more time with Christina and would call or be by later. When
Christina and Darlene returned from Mare Island they went by Caesar's
again, and at 10:15 Darlene called the sitter to see how things were. The
sitter told her that one of her friends at Terry's had been trying to reach her.

Darlene drove into Terry's parking lot at 10:30 and talked for about ten
minutes with her friend. As she and Christina were leaving, Darlene
stopped and talked with an older man in a white car in the lot. Christina
noticed the conversation between the two was strained and she "sensed
tension in the air." Christina observed that the stranger's car was bigger and
older than Darlene's '63 Corvair. Darlene said nothing about the man on the
way to the Suennen family home, where she let Christina off.

Darlene arrived at her new home on Virginia and the sitter, Janet Lynne,
met her at the door. She told Darlene an older-

sounding man had been calling all evening but wouldn't leave his name or
any messages. "He said he'd call Hack," said Janet.

Darlene changed out of her star-spangled jumpsuit into a white and blue
flower-print jumpsuit, which had been made from the fabric that had been
left in a package on her doorstep by the man in the white car. Darlene woke
up Dena and began playing with her and explained to Janet and her friend,
Pamela, that "I'm having some friends over here tonight for a little party."

Darlene planned on taking the sitters home and then coming back to clean
the house up. However, just as Darlene, carrying Dena, had the girls
bundled up in the Corvair, the phone inside began to ring and she rushed to
answer it. When she returned, she asked if the two girls would mind staying
until around 12:IS and they agreed. Darlene explained, "I have to go back
out and get fireworks for the party."

Darlene left immediately, taking Georgia Street east directly to Beechwood

Avenue, where she made a left to Mike's house at 864 Beechwood, four-
and-one-half blocks from the Jensen home. Mike lived just to the west of
Hogan High (Betty Lou Jensen had lived just to the south).

Darlene stopped in front of the house, turned off the engine, and waited. In
a moment Mike rushed out in such a hurry that he left all the lights blazing,
the door standing open, and the television playing.

In the driver's seat, Darlene started the ignition and gestured impatiently for
Mike to get in. As the bronze Corvair pulled off, they were trailed
immediately by a light-colored car that had been parked in the shadows of
the tree-lined street.

"We're being followed," Mike said.

Darlene sped off to Oakwood, took a right on Springs Road, and started out
toward Columbus Parkway, the same direction as Lake Herman Road.

It was 11:55 p.m. now.

The car raced behind them at high speed. Darlene kept turning to lose the
stranger. She began going down side streets, but the car behind followed
closer and faster.

Mike kept telling her, "Oh, no, no, no, no, go straight... go

straight!" Finally Mike said, "Just go this way." With the other car in hot
pursuit, they were being chased inexorably toward the outskirts of the city.

Still within the city limits and only four miles from downtown Vallejo was
Blue Rock Springs Golf Course, another well-known lovers' lane, and this
was where Darlene and Mike were being herded. Darlene nervously turned
right into the parking lot. Seventy-two feet from the entrance she hit a log
and stalled the engine.

The parking lot was about two miles from the site of the Jensen-Faraday
murders almost seven months before, but was not nearly as secluded. The
lot overlooked the golf course; to Darlene s extreme right was a grove of
trees. Hers was the only car in the lot.

The couple sat in the darkness only a moment when the other auto, similar
in design to the Corvair, caught up with them in the lot, turned out its lights,
and then parked eight feet to their left. The front of the car was nearly even
with the back bumper of Darlene's car; Mike thought the car might be a '58
or '59 Falcon, with old California plates. He could tell the driver was a man.

"Do you know who it is?" whispered Mike.

"Oh, never mind," said Darlene finally. "Don't worry about it"

Mike didn't know if this meant she knew who it was or not.

Almost immediately, the other car roared off at a high rate of speed,
heading toward Vallejo. Mike breathed a sigh of relief.
In five minutes, though, the car returned. Now it parked to their left and to
the rear of the Corvair with its lights on. Mike noticed the other car had
pulled up behind them at sort of an offline from their car, a cut-off
technique used by highway patrolmen. Mike has been parked in the same
lot once before and a police officer had come up in this same manner.

Suddenly, a bright and powerful light, like a policeman's spotlight, was

beamed at them from within the other car. The lone occupant of the car
threw open his door and, carrying a large flashlight extended in front of
him, advanced toward the couple, all the while shining the glaring light
from one face to the other.

The light went out. It was a "floating lantern" with a handle of the type
Mike had seen on boats.

Thinking it was the police, Mike suggested to Darlene, "Here come the
cops, you better get your identification out," and reached for his right rear
pocket to get his wallet. Darlene took hers out of her purse and replaced the
purse in the rear behind Mike's seat. The man strode to the passenger side of
the car; the window was down.

Without warning, the blinding light exploded on again directly into Mike's
eyes. The stranger was invisible. Mike heard the clink of metal against the
window frame, saw a muzzle flash and smoke erupt. The roar of the shot
filled his ears. The bullet hit with tremendous heat and Mike felt his blood
flowing. Even though the shots seemed loud, Mike got the impression the
gun had some sort of silencer on it. The man pumped more shots at the
couple.

Darlene slumped forward over the steering wheel, hit by bullets that had
passed through Mike's body and by bullets aimed at her. She was wounded
by nine rounds. Two bullets caught her in the right arm and two in the left
arm. Five bullets hit her in the right side of her back, piercing her lung and
the left ventricle of her heart

Mike reached for the door handle, his fingers scrambling frantically, and to
his horror realized that it had been removed. He was helpless—unable to
get away from the fiendish killer shooting at him. The boy had been
wounded in the right arm and was in terrible pain while the attacker,
without a word, turned and began walking away, his head down.

Mike let out a loud cry of agony.

The gunman, in the process of opening his car door and doing something
Mike could not make out, stopped in the still, silent summer night, turned
slowly, and looked over the shoulder of his Navy-type windbreaker in
Mike's direction. With his hand on the door handle, the stocky man's profile
was illuminated by the interior light of his car, and for the first time Mike
saw the face of his attacker.

The man appeared to have a large face and was not wearing glasses. He
seemed to be between twenty-six and thirty years old

and had short, curly, light-brown hair worn in a military style crewcut. The
man's build was "beefy, heavyset without being blubbery fat," perhaps 195
to 200 pounds. Mike estimated that he was one head higher than Darlene's
Corvair, about five feet eight inches tall. His pants had pleats but Mike
could see that he had a slight potbelly.

The intruder had stopped, looked back at Mike, and now was returning to
finish the job. The stocky man leaned into the Corvair through the open
window and fired two more shots at Mike. Mike kicked out with his legs in
a pathetic attempt at self-defense. With nowhere else to go he leaped
backward into the rear of the auto, legs thrashing spasmodically.

The man fired two more shots at Darlene, turned away, got into his car, and
drove off just fast enough to make the gravel fly.

Mike, badly wounded in the left leg, right arm, and neck, finally was able to
regain the front seat. He opened the passenger door from the outside and
toppled from the Corvair onto the parking lot. Blood rushed from the
wound to his cheek and neck; the bullet had entered from the right and
exited from his left cheek, ripping a hole through his jawbone and tongue. It
felt like a "sledgehammer had hit" him, and when he tried to speak he could
only gurgle. He could not even call out for help.
In the front seat he could hear Darlene moan.

At about midnight, in his home eight hundred feet from the Blue Rock
Springs parking lot, George Bryant, the twenty-two-year-old son of the
course caretaker, was having trouble sleeping on such a hot night. George
was in his bedroom on the second story of the house and lying on his
stomach peering out the window overlooking the park.

He had gone to bed a half hour earlier and lay listening to people laughing
in the distance and a few exploding fireworks. Suddenly George heard a
gunshot. A short interval of silence and then another gunshot. A short pause
again and then rapid fire. Soon he heard a car take off at "super speed and
burn rubber." The attacker's luck was holding. George could see mort of the
lot,

but the spot where Darlene's car was stopped was hidden by trees.

Three teenagers, Debra, Roger, and Jerry, were looking for a friend of
Roger's. They had come to Blue Rock Springs after a day of celebrating the
Fourth in the downtown area of Vallejo. As they passed the main parking
lot they noticed Darlene'sCor-vair and they thought to check to see if this
was the missing friend.

They decided it wasn't and were about to leave when they heard a muffled
scream. Debra backed the car up and turned it to shine the high beams on
the Corvair. They saw a man rolling in agony on the ground.

Debra pulled up as close as she dared and stopped. All three teenagers ran
up to the injured man.

"Are you all right?"

"I'm shot," Mike was finally able to get out, "and the girl's shot. Get a doc."

"All right," said Jerry. "We'll get you one."

"Hurry."
Roger wanted to stay behind with Mike but Debra and Jerry urged him to
come with them to Jerry's house to call the police. As the brown Rambler
turned out of the lot and onto Columbus Parkway, the three teenagers
thought they could see the red points of taiHights disappearing down Lake
Herman Road.

Debra called the police from Jerry's and told them what she had seen. As
time went by the three became anxious and went to Jerry's uncle, who was a
policeman. The uncle checked and found a car had already been dispatched
to the scene. The four then went to police headquarters.

The Vallejo P.D. switchboard operator, Nancy Slover, had received a report
from a female caller that "two persons were shot at the east side of the main
parking lot at Blue Rock Springs at 12:10 a.m." Detective Sergeant John
Lynch and his partner, Sergeant Ed Rust, were in their car in plain clothes
when the report came through.

"I tefl you the way this thing come down," Lynch told me later. "We worked
Sonoma Boulevard and Tennessee Street, and we got a report there was
gunshots out at Blue Rock Springs. I was

driving the car and made a U-turn and started down Tennessee Street. I
talked to Rust and he says, 'Aw, it's the Fourth of July and there's kids out
there shooting firecrackers/ ... so we kinda moped around and didn't roll on
it. I guess about ten minutes later we got the call there was a shooting out
there.

"It's the one thing I felt really bad about, that we didn't roll right away on
that call. If we had went right out Tennessee Street that car would have had
to pass us. 'Cause he came down Tennessee and then he turned on
Tuolumne I don't think he made

any turn on Lake Herman Road. I got to the scene fifteen minutes after it
happened."

Rust and Lynch could see Darlene's Chevrolet on the east side of the lot,
pointed toward the park area. The car's head and taillights were on, the turn
signal was flashing, and the passenger door was open.
Officer Richard Hoffman and Sergeant Conway were on the scene already,
attempting to question Mike, who was bleeding badly from severe wounds
in the neck, the chest and shoulder area, and the left leg. He was lying at the
rear of the Corvair, at right angles to it. Lynch called for an ambulance from
Kaiser Hospital.

"Mageau was really in great pain," Lynch said later. 'To tell you the truth,
when we got there I didn't think she was hit too hard. ... I thought Mike was
the one who ... he seemed to be in great pain from the hit in the knee."

Lynch and Rust bent over Mike and noticed something weird. The boy was
wearing three pairs of pants, three sweaters, a long-sleeved button shirt, and
a T-shirt. On a hot July Fourth night!

They could see Darlene was wearing a white-and-blue flowered outfit and
blue shoes. Behind the wheel she opened her eyes slightly; she still had her
false eyelashes on. Lynch and Rust both knew who she was. "Lots of cops
knew her and used to stop in at the coffee shop out there where she worked.
I knew who Darlene was," said Lynch, "but I never talked to her. In fact, her
family lives just down the street from my house. She liked to run in the
ocean. She'd take her shoes and stockings off and just run through the surf.

"She dated a lot of officers. Apparently she was the type of person who
liked policemen. When people work nights, usually those are the kind of
people who like policemen/'

Lynch noticed that Mike's position on the ground had been carefully
outlined with white chalk by Conway. Mike's eyes were wide and he
struggled to open his mouth to speak. When he finally did, blood gushed
out. In halting words and between spasms of pain he told Lynch, "A white
man . . . drove up ... in a car ... got out... walked up to the car, shined
flashlight inside . . . started shooting.

"I got... out of car ... I tried to get the people to come over . . . but they drive
off. After . . . finally ten minutes ... the policemen came."

"Do you know who shot you?" asked Conway.

"No."

"Can you give me a description?"

"Can't."

'Try."

"Young . . . heavyset ... in a light tan car."

"Did he say anything?"

"No. He just started shooting . . . and kept shooting."

Again Lynch went to the driver's side of the Corvair, where Darlene was
still behind the wheel. He could see she was wounded in the upper body and
left arm and was still alive. She was making a soft moaning sound like the
wind.

"Where is that ambulance?" muttered Lynch.

"I remember," he told me, "she was trying to say something and I put my
ear over her like this to try to understand, but I just couldn't The words she
said were either T or 'My . . .'" Her pulse was weak and her breathing
shallow. Lynch got Darlene out and laid her on the ground.

Rust noted that both windows on the left and right were rolled down and the
ignition key was turned to on. The radio was on and the car was in low gear.
Even the handbrake had not been set. He wondered about this.

Seven shell casings were found a few feet away from the victims on the
right side. Rust peered in from the right side and could

see three bullet holes in Darlene, two in her upper right arm and one in her
right side.

When the ambulance arrived, Lynch helped the steward lift Darlene into the
vehicle. Hoffman accompanied the victims to the hospital in case Darlene
should be able to say something.
Lynch had called out three fire trucks to illuminate the area with floodlights
while Rust checked out the area where Mageau had been lying.
Approximately where the center of Mike's back had been, he found a
copper-jacketed slug, badly misshapen but recognizable as a 9-mm. or .38
caliber. There was no blood or skin on the slug. Rust bagged it and marked
it.

Now Rust checked the place where Darlene had been slumped behind the
wheel and found another slug, similar to the one under Mike but in better
condition. He continued to inspect the inside of the car and found on the
right rear floorboard two spent shell casings, brass, marked with a "W-W";
they appeared to Rust to be 9-mm ammunition. Lynch himself was not
overly familiar with guns.

The inside of the Corvair was very bloody. Rust knelt down by the driver's
side and, looking closely, found that a hole about : one-half inch to one inch
long had been made in the door handle area. He made a note for I.D.
technician John Sparks to dig inside the door when the car was towed to the
impound room at the Vallejo P.D.

Rust noticed a man's black leather wallet on the right rear fender, where
Hoffman had placed it. Rust looked through it and then in the glove
compartment, where he found registration pa-pen for the auto in the name
of Arthur Ferrin, Dean's father.

On the left rear floorboard he discovered a woman's quilt pattern purse, tied
with a leather drawstring and covered with blood. There was only thirteen
cents inside.

Rust could hear the static of their car phone. Lynch went for it. It was
Hoffman calling.

Darlene was DO.A at 12:38 a.m.

At exactly 12:40, a man placed a call through an operator from a pay phone
to the Vallejo P.D. Switchboard operator Nancy Slover answered.
"I want," said the man, "to report a double murder." There was no trace of
accent in the voice and it seemed to Nancy that the man was reading what
he was saying. Or had rehearsed it.

"If you will go one mile east on Columbus Parkway to the public park, yeu
will find kids in a brown car."

The stranger's voice was even and consistent, soft but forceful. Nancy tried
to interrupt him to get more information but he just talked louder, covering
her voice. To her the caller sounded mature. He did not stop talking until he
had completed his statement to her.

"They were shot with a 9-millimeter Luger. I also killed those kids last year.

"Good-bye."

When he said "good-bye," the man's voice deepened and became taunting.
Nancy heard the sound of a receiver being replaced. She was left listening
to the empty hum of the line.

After he hung up, the killer must have stood for a minute in a lighted phone
booth. Suddenly the phone began to ring; a middle-aged black man in
shabby clothes who was passing by looked over and saw the stocky man in
the booth. Turning his head away, the killer opened the door of the phone
booth, plunging it into darkness. To stop the phone from ringing he
unhooked it and let it hang. After a moment, he walked briskly off into the
night.

At 12:47, Pacific Telephone had traced the call to Joe's Union Station at
Tuolumne and Springs Road, located right in front of the Vallejo Sheriff's
Office and within sight of Darlene and Dean's little green house on Virginia.
The stocky man may have looked in the house as he passed it after making
his call. Dean was still working at this time, so the only occupants were
Dena and the babysitter and her friend.

The police placed a call to Dean's father because the Corvair was registered
in his name. Thus his father learned of Darlene's death first.
The police then tried to contact anyone at the Mageau residence by phone,
and when this failed, they dispatched Officer Shrum and his partner to the
Beechwood address. They got out

of their squad car and approached the house carefully since the door was
standing open and all the lights were blazing. Except for the blaring
television, the two officers could hear no other sound in the building. They
found the house empty.

After locking up Caesar's, the owners and help, including Dean, started
west toward the Ferrins' house on Virginia for the party. Bill Leigh and
Dean, in separate cars, stopped at Pete's Liquor Store and bought some
liquor.

"After we closed the restaurant," Carmela remembered later, "the waitresses

and all of us got in our cars and we all went over to his house. When we
arrived there was a babysitter, two young girls Dean didn't know, never had
seen before. They were daughters of a friend of Darlene's. Which made it
embarrassing for Dean. He felt a little funny. They were supposed to be
taken home, but Darlene never came back.

'That's why we were wondering, *Well, where is she? What is she doing?'
The sitters said that Darlene had said she was going to get some fireworks."

Dean left to find her. The phone rang at 1:30 and Bill Leigh picked it up.
All he could hear on the line was heavy breathing. "Probably one of
Darlene's goofy friends," he said to Carmela over his shoulder.

Bill was gruff. "Why doesn't she stay home with her husband once in a
while," he said into the mouthpiece and hung up.

A few minutes later, Dean's parents received a similar call and could hear
only deep breathing or "the wind on the end of the line." All they could tell
was that someone was there.

Dean's brother got a crank call next.

Thus there were three anonymous calls to relatives of Darlene less than an
hour and a half after she was shot, long before any mention of the crime in
the paper or on the radio. Darlene's own parents, the Suennens, got no such
calls; they had an unlisted number.

Was the killer searching for a specific person to speak to? Was it Dean he
wanted to taunt, and did he know the sound of his voice? Although Dean
and Darlene kept the same phone number when they had moved to Virginia
Street, they were listed in the

book as still living on Wallace. If the killer had been a stranger, be would
have assumed that he was calling a house many blocks away; yet he used a
pay phone within sight of the couple's new home.

naDy, somewhere around 2.00 am , Darlene's husband came home," Janet,

the sitter, told me later. "He said, 'I'D just take you home/ He seemed
worried or upset, like something was bothering him, something was on his
mind. He said something Kke, 'Darlene's not coming home yet,' and then he
just took us right home."

"Dean took the kids home right away, whatever time it was then," Carmela
recalled. "He was probably gone ten minutes We heard about the murder
when the police came to the door. We were stiQ there hanging around.
Yeah, we were all there wondering where Darlene was and where the
fireworks were and we were just kinda sitting around the room talking for
about an hour when there was a knock at the door. And then the police
came to the door so my husband and Dean went to the police station, and as
soon as they walked out of the door one of the policemen came in the house
and asked us some questions about where Dean had been earlier that night.
I guess immediately the husband is suspect in a case like that

"So we told him we all worked together and we aO came over for a party
and we were waiting for Darlene and then we said, *What happened?'

"He told us she had been shot and was with another man. Is she all right?* I
asked him. He said, No She's dead.' And boom! That shook it It just upset
everybody. He told us aD, but Dean didn't know until he got to
headquarters."
The police questioned Dean and Leigh for an hour, keeping as much
information from them as possible.

"We heard she had a boyfriend,'' the detectives said to Dean.

"Well, Dean never wanted to know that," Carmda said later. "In fact, he
didn't want to believe that When she was going out aD of Ac time people
would teD him, 'Boy, you better find out who she's going out with.' He used
to say, *She's not doing anything wrong. She doesn't have a boyfriend.
She's just young

and has to get it out of her system/ So he really did love her and he used to
protect her when people would tell him things about her. And after it was
over, when he would hear bad things about her he would clam up. He didn't
know any more than any of us. The last year he didn't even know her."

Bill Leigh told the police, "I don't know any reason anyone would want to
kill Darlene."

The official police report of Bill's questioning in room 28 at Vallejo P.D.

reads as follows:

William did state that he knew that she was running around a lot and
thought she was seeing other men, could not give names or dates, places, of
any of this. Stated she would go out and stay out until late nite or early a.m
Stated some of William's friends had said they had seen Darlene in different
places with other men. William stated Dean allowed her to go out usually as
she pleased and would not believe s he was doing anything wrong.

William then stated he remembered a person known only as "Paul" [this

name has been changed], who Dean had sold a '51 Ford pickup to. Stated he
heard this Paul had tried several times to get Darlene to go out with him and
she would not and this Paul became sarcastic, mean, and bitter about the
fact she would not have anything to do with him. . . . William stated he had
never met this Paul as far as he knows and does not know where he lives or
works. Has heard that he is a bartender. ... He heard that this Paul used to
hang out around the bar (Jack's Hangout) that was next to Darlene's old
place on Wallace, would come over when Darlene was home and pester her,
trying to pick her up.

Bobbie Ramos found out about the shooting at a quarter after midnight
from Officer Howard "Buzz" Gordon, a mutual friend of Darlene and
Bobbie. "He called me up at work and told me. He might have been at
headquarters when the call came in," she told me later. At 2:30 a.m.,
Sergeant Rust arrived at Terry's to talk with Darlene's co-workers.

Bobbie Ramos was first. She had spent some evenings with Darlene at the
Coronado Inn, where she liked to dance. The only male friend of Darlene's
that Bobbie knew was Mike.

(After Dtriene's death Bobbie moved from the more isolated working area
of Terry's to the Banquet Room, where she would see two hundred people
at a time.)

Rust then talked with Evelyn Olson, who claimed that she had been told by
Darlene that her marriage was about at an end. "Darlene thought her
husband didn't love her anymore. She told me this around Christmas, and
after she told me this she began dating other men. Darlene had many
boyfriends but nothing serious," said Evelyn.

Just past 3:00 a.m. , Rust spoke with Lois McKee, the cook, who told him
that although Darlene had many male friends, she seemed to stick mainly
with Mike, and in fact she knew of a trip to San Francisco the two had made
within the last month.

Harley ScaOey, the manager, confirmed that Darlene "ran around with
several men." "Darlene dated a lot of guys?" 1 asked Lynch later, and he
replied, "Oh, all kinds of guys. She was a goer.

But Bobbie, Evelyn, and Lois all recalled one particular individual a short
stocky man with black hair who kept trying to date Darlene. The man had a
pink pickup and a brown car, possibly a Corvair, and "would get uptight
when Darlene wouldn't date him. He would become very bitter about this."
The women did not know the man's last name but they did know he was a
bartender. And that his first name was Paul
At 3:30 a.m., Darlene s body was taken to Twin Chapels and photos were
made.

"I was pregnant at the time," Darlene's sister, Linda, remembered, "and I
went into the mortuary and she was laying on this slab and they said, 'She's
not finished yet/ and I said, i want to see her now.'

"And I broke through ... I had so much adrenaline in me. ... I broke through
those doors and touched her and 111 never forget that because it was like
touching marble or a doll. And her hair was orange and her mouth still had
blood on it They had sewed up her mouth but it was still bloody. I kinda
wish in a way I hadn't but that's what I wanted to do so I did it."

Lynch was still out at Blue Rock Springs at seven in the morning. "We were
searching for whatever we could find. Ed Cruz made an elaborate sketch of
the whole area. They dug a perfect bullet out of the car, one that wasn't
smashed. It probably went through the fleshy part of her body and then just
had enough momentum to penetrate the upholstry and they just dug that
out."

As the barrage of shots fired by the killer in the parking lot was recovered,
the detectives found nine 9-mm casings and seven copper-jacketed 9-mm
slugs in various conditions.

Since the killer had fired at least nine shots and possibly as many as thirteen
without reloading, they believed the weapon would almost certainly be a
Browning. (Smith and Wesson did produce the MS9 Pistol, a 9-mm
Parabellum that operated on a Modified Browning system and had a
magazine capacity of fourteen rounds. It has been marketed as a police
sidearm.) All other semi-automatics considered—Star, Smith and Wesson,
Astra, Llama, Neuhausen, Zbrojovka', Husqvarna, Esperanza and
Parabellum (Luger)—had only a magazine capacity of eight or seven
bullets. The Browning 1935 High Power (FN GP35), manufactured in
Canada by the John Inglis Company since World War II and used by the
Canadian army, holds thirteen cartridges in a double-rowed, staggered box
magazine.
Rust arrived at Blue Rock Springs with a still badly shaken Linda and her
husband. Linda told Lynch that Darlene's three closest friends were Sue,
Dean's cousin, and Bobbie, "the blond at Terry's," and a man known only as
"Bob," who used to bring Darlene presents from Tijuana. Linda also
mentioned Paul. "Paul tried to date Darlene but she didn't like him
particularly. He was a neat dresser, short, stocky, with dark hair," she said.
"He visited Darlene frequently; he was very emotional."

Lynch spoke with Mike's father, who had stayed the night of the killing at
Kentwig's Motel, and he said that "Darlene had called several times on
Friday." As for Mike's twin, he had supposedly been living in L.A. for four
to five weeks before Darlene's death, but there were conflicting claims to
this.

At 8:25 a.m., Mike was operated on. During the emergency

surgery his fractured jaw was wired and his left leg repaired with the use of
three metal pins and protected with a full leg cast. One slug was removed
from his thigh by the doctor; this was put in a glass bottle and delivered to
Lynch. Most of the delicate surgical work was done on his arm because of
some splintering. Mike's acute tongue injury still prevented him from being
able to speak without great pain.

At 9:30 A.M., John Sparks, the I.D. man, gave the Corvair a through going-
over in the police garage.

At 11:15, Lynch and Rust went to the Suennen family home, Darlene's
father, Leo, said that Darlene had no known enemies but "at times she
appeared to be afraid of Mageau."

Even though he was heavily sedated, Mike was Bnally interviewed from his
hospital bed by Lynch. Carefully Mike emphasized it was "dark out and
hard to see." In weak, halting words he related to Lynch the events of the
tragic Fourth. Only one part of the story was altered: "Darlene picked me up
at 11.40, and since we were both hungry we headed down Springs Road
west toward Vallejo, but at Mr. Ed's we turned around at my suggestion and
drove to Blue Rock Springs so we could talk."
From a confidential report I learned of another change in Mike's story. Sue
Avers, a legal secretary, claimed that she had talked to Mike in the hospital
after the shooting and he told her that Darlene and another man had an
argument while he was present in Darlene's car at Terry's the night of the
shooting, and that when they drove away the stranger followed them to
Blue Rock Springs, where the argument continued. And that they were shot
by that man. Mike also told her that they were followed "at least from die
time she picked me up at my house."

In subsequent interviews Mike said the attacker wore a blue shirt or

sweater, weighted about 160 pounds, and combed his hair "up in kind of a
pompadour and then back." The car was changed to a light, tan Chevy.

Darlene's sister, Pam, stated that Mike told her at the hospital that "the guy
came up and shot. ... He knew Darlene because he called ha by name. She
was known to ho dose friends as'Dee' and he called her Dee.' "

"Why do you think Mike doesn't want to tell certain things to the police?" 1
asked Pam later.

"Well, he was in love with Darlene," she suggested. "Mike wrote her letters.
When Darlene died they found three letters from Mike, all signed by a
different name. Mike liked to pretend to be different people."

The police contacted the sitters and asked them to come down.

"They were very pushy. So definite. We'd say something and the
policeman'd say, 'No, that couldn't be,' until you just figured, 'No, it couldn't
be.' You don't argue when you're that young with a police officer. You know
you're really young when you're fourteen," Janet told me some years later.
"It's really strange. They take you to a police station and you have
nightmares for weeks afterward, but you try to remember everything."

"I have here," said Lynch, "that Darlene came home at 11:00 and cleaned
the house."

"No," said Janet. "It was actually around 11:35."

"There was a big discrepancy," said Janet, "between the police report and
the time she really came home. They kept telling us that she had to be home
at 11:00 and we kept telling them it was later. They didn't even bother to
write it down. What time did you say she was murdered? Midnight. She
didn't even leave until almost midnight 'cause we were watching a program
that doesn't come on until almost midnight and she was murdered like five
minutes later. How could she get out there in five minutes? And she picked
up somebody else, too. We thought it was important. You can't get all the
way out there that quick."

A hot pursuit would explain the speed.

As in the Lake Herman murders, there was no sexual molestation or

robbery. In both cases the killer had fired a fusillade of shots and had left
behind no identifiable tire tracks or footprints. The slayer did possess a
thorough knowledge of the geography of VaDejo. Was he a resident of
Vallejo, perhaps a neighbor of Jensen or Faraday, or even a common friend
of all the victims?

Lynch contacted Lundblad, who compared both crimes and decided the
phone call to the police was not a ruse. Lundblad spoke to the press and told
of the similarities in the murders, but

did not mention the call or elaborate on the evidence.

A Vallejo policeman who had dated Darlene fell under suspicion, was
cleared by Lynch, but eventually left the department.

Sunday, July 6, 1969

At 12:02 a.m., Carmen, Mike's mother, arrived in Vallejo from Los

Angeles. She and Mike's brother talked to Lynch. "Darlene had no known
enemies," said Mike's twin.

A man and his son next phoned Lynch and told him that they had witnessed
an argument between a man and a woman at Terry's parking lot around
10:30 p.m. on fury Fourth. The man was thirty, about six feet tall, and
weighed about 180 to 185. He had hair the color of champagne, combed
straight back.

At 6:45 p.m., Lynch talked with the three teenagers who had come upon the
murder. At 7:00 p.m., Darlene's father picked up Christina and the two
sitters and took them to Darlene's house on Virginia, where they met Lynch
and Rust.

Out of five detectives, Lynch was assigned as chief investigator on the

murder. He assessed every possible motive from jealousy to revenge, but
none of these panned out. The nature of the sick phone call led the detective
to concentrate his search for a ma* niac.

"She was a beautiful girl. 1 was at the autopsy. I had no days off at all. For a
town like Vallejo this was a real big deal, especially after those two other
kids," Lynch said mournfully.

Monday, July 7, 1969

The Corvair was returned and Linda and her father had to move the car
down the hill away from the house to dean it. "It was all full of blood," said
Linda, "and there was Dena crying for her mother. It was heartbreaking."

Dean brought all of Darlene's diaries, phonebooks, and papers to Lynch. He

discovered a yellow photo envelope with strange

words written on it. Dean was unable to explain what the writing might
mean. The words "hacked," "stuck," "testified," and "seen" were on the
edge of the envelope in Darlene's handwriting. Lynch could make out a
series of partial words as well. They made no sense to him. They were
"acrqu," "acci," "calc," and "icio." In addition she had circled the printed
words "on," "by," and "at" and scratched out the word "highly." A phone
number on the back proved to be that of Mr. Ed's Restaurant and Drive-in.

There were other disturbing things for Lynch to think about. Darlene had
left to get fireworks on the night of the Fourth and yet her sister said she
had already bought them. When Darlene was found, she had neither
fireworks nor the money to buy any; only thirteen cents was found in her
purse. "Seems to me," Lynch recalled, "she drove over to Mike's house and
told him they were going to have a fireworks display at her house and she
asked him to go with her so they could buy the fireworks. . . . There were
booths all over town."

Tips to the police hinted that Darlene's murder involved narcotics,

witchcraft from the Virgin Islands, and even a Satanic church, a devil cult in
Vallejo.

I asked Linda about the witchcraft connection.

"Darlene was really into it even when she was seventeen. She believed in
reincarnation and voodoo and stuff like that. The Virgin Islands, that's when
she really got into it."

Carmela later told me, "She was probably in an occult. She probably was
mixed up with some goofy people only 'cause she loved excitement. . . . Her
being married previously to the kind of guy she was, it could have been a
life-style for her."

"Darlene mentioned the witchcraft angle to a certain degree," Pam related,

"knowing this guy that was sitting at the counter up at Terry's, just the way
he talked, the way he was into that skull with the dripping candle. Darlene
said that he was the one who kept it lit and talked about these weird things
and witchcraft.

"But there was no ritual. Darlene's friends would just come over and tease,
but the one who would start it all would be this

guy, the man who delivered the package. The man at the painting party."

I spoke with Bobbie Oxnam about the newspaper stories about Darlene and
drugs.

"The stories printed made a lot of us angry— She might have taken
marijuana once in a while but drugs were strictly taboo to her."
"I guess," Bobbie Ramos explained to me, "the police didn't ask me the
right questions. All this talk of drugs turned me off. .. . Darlene got into
something I don't think she could have got out of and she was afraid. So I
think she did want to get out of it and the killer said, 'Well, 111 just do away
with her 'cause shell probably just go to the police.' "

However, Linda had her own theories. "The money put on the new house,"
she said forcefully, "none of it come from Dean. It came from whatever she
was doing with this man in the white car. ... I was constantly, twice a week,
taking her to the bank, Crocker Citizen's on Georgia."

And why was Mike wearing three pairs of pants and three shirts on a hot
summer night? And what about the missing door handle? Dean stated that
the inside passenger-side door handle was always attached and Christina
said that it was attached when she left the car at the family home.

But the most chilling and inexplicable thing was that, after the couple had
been found at Blue Rock Springs, after they were taken to the hospital, and
after police had sealed off the area, the missing door handle on the front
passenger-side of the Corvair was mysteriously replaced.

Friday, July 11, 1969

Right now Lynch was concentrating on the search for the bartender, Paul.
He owned a '56 Chevy, blue over white, a red Pontiac, and the pickup he
had purchased from Dean Ferrin. Paul would often have breakfast at Terry's
at 2:00 a.m., after the bars

closed. A source told Lynch that Paul was constantly bothering Darlene and
had followed her many times. Darlene was "deathly afraid of him and was
friendly only in an effort to keep him at a distance." Lynch told me, "Paul
wasn't real aggressive, but he was the type of guy who was tough to put off
and he had been coming in there at the coffee shop bothering Darlene. It
took us a week to find him." Finally Lynch received a tip that the Paul they
wanted to talk to was employed in a bar in Benicia. They got in touch with
Benicia Detective Sergeant Bidou, who found a 1966 address for Paul. First
Lynch and Rust checked out several bars in Benicia unsuccessfully, then
they went to the old address on "D" Street and talked with the landlady,
who stated she had seen Paul a month earlier. She described the bartender
as "kind of plump with dark straight hair."

At 8:00 p.m., she called Rust at the Vallejo P.D. and said she had made
some calls and found out that Paul was in Yountville, between Napa and
Lake Berryessa. The detectives drove there immediately and spoke with
Paul, who was now a boilermaker, at his home.

"I don't know any friends of Darlene's," he snapped.

"We just want to know where you were on July Fourth."

"I was in a soft ball game with a team sponsored by the Napa Police
Department. I like cops," he said curtly. "The game started at 10:30 a.m.
and when it was over I came straight home. After supper I attended a
veteran's fireworks display and was home by seven and stayed there."

Paul's new wife confirmed this.

Lynch was very disappointed. One of his fellow detectives told me, "The
whole investigation originally seemed to focus on this guy. I mean,
everybody was kinda after this Paul, Paul, Paul. The guy had even worked
out at the Elk's Club at Blue Rock Springs. But we checked it; that alibi was
airtight."

Lynch and Rust dejectedly went back to headquarters.

Mike moved to a tiny second-floor apartment, his "hideout," dyed his hair
red, and was driven back and forth to the hospital by his father for treatment
on his leg and disabled arm. Later he would

go to live with his mother and brother in Southern California.

"We felt," Carmela told me later with a chill to her voice, "that Mike must
have known who the killer was, because if I got shot, I don't know if I'd
move out of town. Then we thought maybe she knew. Maybe she did."

Lynch finally had to ask Mike why he was wearing so many sets of clothes.
Lynch told me, "He said that he was embarrassed by being so thin and wore
extra sets of clothes to make himself look huskier."

"Not very comfortable on the Fourth of July," I said.

What of the missing door handle that was mysteriously replaced after the
Corvair was in police custody? The implication was that the killer had to be
a cop or someone close to the police in order to reattach the handle. Then I
remembered that Rust's note to the police I.D. technicians read: "Dig inside
the door handle area for bullets." The technicians may have done this and
when finished automatically replaced the door handle, perhaps finding it
under the front seat where the killer could have thrown it.

Jack Mulanax, the tough, broad-shouldered cop who would inherit the
Ferrin case in the months ahead when it would become more than anyone
had ever dreamed it would be, even tracked down Darlene's first husband in
Santa Cruz and questioned him. "The guy's a little guy. I was thoroughly
convinced that he was not the killer," he told me.

Rust and Lynch met with Linda to prepare a composite sketch of the man at
the party. "I sat there with the police and the artist did the drawing from my
directions. I spent hours with the police," she told me. "Afterward they gave
me a long list of names and I was to circle any names of people I saw at the
party. They could account for everybody but the guy in the suit. After
Terry's, I never saw him again."

The envelope that arrived at the San Francisco Chronicle was postmarked in
San Francisco and had two six-cent Roosevelt stamps on it, placed
vertically, one above the other. The letter inside, written in a small, cramped
style that trailed off toward the

right as it came to the bottom of the page, was cold and menacing. With the
letter was one-third of a neatly printed cryptogram composed of strange
symbols.

It was a letter to the editor. In it, the writer took credit for the murders of
David, Betty Lou, and Darlene.
Zodiac

Friday, August 1, 1969

In the offices of the San Francisco Chronicle at Fifth and Mission Streets, I
joined the two editorial writers, Temp Peck and AI Hyman, in the editorial
conference at 10:00 with the newspaper's publisher, Charles deYoung
Theiriot. We met each morning to discuss the news and to decide on the
topics for the next day's editorial page. I would scan the papers, draw six
cartoon roughs, and the editors would select one. After I redrew it in ink on
illustration board, it would be the editorial cartoon for the next edition.

It was to this office that the first letter from the Vallejo killer arrived, signed
only with a crossed-circle symbol. In addition, the killer had enclosed a
cipher message composed of arcane symbols.

A long tradition exists of writers and artists attempting to solve true crimes
in their works of fiction. From Poe ("The Mystery of Marie Roget") and
Mary Roberts Rhinehart ("First Mate Bram Murder Case"), to Arthur
Conan Doyle, and Agatha Christie, who was instrumental in solving an
actual aconite poisoning case. Oscar Wilde and the nineteenth-century
British painter Walter Sickert both claimed to know who Jack the Ripper
really was.

Wilde planted clues in his Picture of Dorian Gray and Sickert hid references
to the killer in his portraits of knife murders. In recent yean, for a brief time,
Sickert was actually a Ripper suspect himself.

This was in the back of my mind as I looked at the small printing on the
letter. I was seized by several emotions, but primarily I felt a rage at the
coldness, arrogance, and insanity of the murderer. As an editorial cartoonist
you develop a strong sense of justice, a need to change things, and as a
painter and cartoonist I worked with symbols every day. The tools of my
career were being misused, appropriated by a murderer.
At this time, no killer since Jack the Ripper had written the press and
taunted the police with clues to his identity. The letter's strangeness
ensnared me. Irretrievably hooked, immediately obsessed, I wanted to solve
what I felt was to become one of the great mysteries.

The letter, in blue felt-tip pen, read:

Dear Editor

This is the murderer of the 2 teenagers last Christmass at Lake Herman &
the girl on the 4th of July near the golf course in Vallejo To prove I killed
them I shall state some facts which only I & the police know. Christmass

1. Brand name of ammo

Super X

2 10 shots were fired

3 the boy was on his back with his feet to the car

4 the girl was on her right side feet to the west

4th Jury

1 girl was wearing paterned slacks

2 The boy was also shot in the knee.

3 Brand name of ammo was western

(Over)

Here is part of a cipher the other 2 parts of this cipher are being mailed to
the editors of the Vallejo times 4 SF Exam iner.

I want you to print this cipher on the front page of your paper. In this cipher
is my identity.
If you do not print this cipher by the afternoon of Fry. 1st of Aug 69, I will
go on a kill ram-Page Fry. night. I will cruse around all weekend killing
lone people in the night then move on to kill again, until] I end up with a
dozen people over the weekend.

The San Francisco Examiner and the Vallejo Times-Herald also received
the sinister letter, with very slight variations ("I am the killer . . .") and one-
third of the complete code message.

The papers printed some of the text of the letters, but at police request did
not reproduce the letter itself. This was done so that there would be
preserved certain things that only the killer himself would know about. This
is a standard police procedure in many slayings in order to provide
indisputable evidence for the identification and capture of the criminal.

Each third of the message consisted of eight lines of seventeen symbols

each: Creek symbols, Morse code, weather symbols, alphabet characters,
navy semaphore, and astrological symbols.

After making photocopies, the newspapers arranged to have the original

letters and cipher delivered to Lynch. The Vallejo P.D. in turn made copies
of the code and sent them to Naval Intelligence at Mare Island Naval
Shipyard for deciphering.

The Times-Herald and Chronicle both printed their third of the cipher block
in their next editions. On Saturday, the Chronicle ran this headline on page
four:

Coded Clue in Murders. This code may conceal

Vallejo killer's identity.

This is The Chronicle's portion

of the complete cryptogram.

9 3X*w©OF«A:>4 qaaab

BOTlRu^oo y 9 a a s pw v z 3 6 y ke o ry aa mm l ± a
HI F B X 4+X APO\ALIK» Q30II93 tPORx«rin ZOl TiOOi7H)l B P aw*
VEXfl^WI © * « HH^XUIJl

See page 51 for the Times-Herald's section of the cipher. The Examiner
decided not to run their cipher portion until Sunday, possibly because they
doubted that the letter was really from the killer.

At Naval Intelligence, the ciphers remained uncrackable. The government

codebreaking branches, the National Security Agency and the Central
Intelligence Agency, were asked to help.

Vallejo Police Chief Jack E. Stiltz wasn't totally convinced the

A B P / 2 / U B9* O R X <? X X B

wv + 3 6 y foa HPQKxpya

HJ/AUI )li*TAH * y o •♦ S ♦ / 4 ■ 8 POftAUilJUM

^ALMZTOHN^FHVWSAy Q4 •> 6 P A Kl40PXAl4$^ RNdXXC-i
OiPSBTfiSK L0/PaBOX*EHMU/\RRX

letters had been written by the murderer and publicly requested the author
to send "a second letter with more facts to prove it" Stiltz admitted that the
letters contained details of the crimes that were not public knowledge, but
said it was knowledge that could have been obtained from any witness at
the death scenes.

Sunday, August 3, 1969

The Sunday Examiner-Chronicle printed their third of the weird cipher (see
page 52).

Below the Examiner's cipher section the paper printed the killer's ciphers to
the Chronicle and Times-Herald. For the first time, the entire message was
seen together.

Donald Gene Harden, a forty-one-year-old history and economics teacher at

North Salinas High School, one hundred miles south of San Francisco, had
a boyhood interest in codesolving, so he read the paper with particular
interest. Since it was a lazy Sunday morning, he decided to fool around

BPDRMJTONNOfUHjIF Z^OVW]#*l L^J A R © M I^DRDT/flN a

3/BXJ4A PIN4RU1BL4NVE KHM

♦ iM J AABBVWN4VTJ. OP

A n s aj i a 3 © a p+ siaih

with the cryptogram and went to the shelf and got down his old volume on
codebreaking, Secret and Urgent, by Fletcher Pratt. Harden cleared off the
dining room table, laid out sharp pencils, a ruler, and an eraser and started
trying to discover just what kind of cipher it wasn't

The word cryptography is derived from the Greek words kryptos ("secret")
and graphos ("writing"), while the word cipher is from the Hebrew word
spahar, meaning "to number." A cipher either systematically rearranges the
usual succession of the letters of the plain text or substitutes other
characters, letters, or symbols for the normal alphabet.

Harden began to work in neat capital letters, checking the letter frequency
of the symbols. Harden knew that E was the most common letter in the
English language, followed in order by T, A, O, N, I, R, and S. The most
commonly doubled letters in English are L, E, and S. The letters most
frequently occurring together are TH, HE, and AN. More than half of all
words end in E and more than half of all words begin with T, A, O, S, or W.
Harden was aware that the most common three-letter combinations
(trigrams) were THE, INC, CON, and ENT. Finally, he

decided it was a "substitution cipher/' where each letter of the alphabet is

replaced by a symbol, letter, or figure. The killer had used so many different
symbols that a one-for-one substitution of characters was not possible. The
teacher was forced to devise his own procedure, to try and find things that
were equal to each other, to search for repeating patterns of symbols. For
hours Harden sat at the table working on the same haunting, recurring
patterns that danced across his worksheet. If only he could reduce his
number of variables!
The real difficulty with deciphering this writing was that Harden didn't
know which of the three blocks of cipher came first or where the words
were broken.*

At the end of the third hour, Harden's wife joined him in the mystery. Bettye
June Harden is the kind of woman who never quits; once she gets her teeth
into something, she can't stop. "She has tremendous stick-to-it-iveness,"
Harden told me. Even though she had never looked at a code in her life, she
plunged right in. After all, in theory, anything ever encoded can be decoded.

The couple quickened their methodical pace, worked through the day and
into the evening. Then they retired for the night and worried about the
solution in their dreams.

Monday, August 4, 1969

Harden was ready to give up on the cryptogram the next morning, but he
couldn't convince Bettye to stop. Even though at times she didn't have the
slightest idea what she was doing, she kept working; eventually, Harden
joined her.

Bettye was of the opinion that the killer was such an egomaniac that he
would start out with "I." Intuition told her that he would speak of killing,
and while they still didn't know which section of

•Actually, as I finally figured out, the killer did mark the order of the
ciphers, as a reminder to himself or as a clue. The number of stamps on the
letter to the Examiner was two, the number of stamps on the Chronicle's
letter was three, and the Vallejo Times-Herald's envelope was posted with
four stamps.

the cipher came first, she suggested the slayer might start out with a phrase
such as "I like killing. ..."

The answer came like a flash to the two of them. The cryptogram contained
a number of double combinations of symbols According to the frequency
table, the most commonly doubled letter in the English language is L.
Frequency tables show the comparative frequencies of letters, pairs of
letters, groups of letters, and syllables. It's virtually impossible to write a
message without repeating words, so the pair looked for four-letter patterns
that would fit in with the word "kill." There was a possibility "kill" would
be used more than once. (Battlefield cryptoanalysts, for example, scan any
captured ciphers for patterns of symbols that might stand for "attack")

It's a very eerie and exciting thing to see a cipher start to come apart. The
killer had used "kill" once, the Hardens eventually discovered. He used
"killing" twice and "killed" and "thrilling" once each. Other double-L words
such as "will" were used four times, the word "collecting," once.

As the message developed in front of them, the Hardens noted the clever
traps the murderer had erected to frustrate them. First he had used the
symbol of a backward Q fifteen times to lure the codebreakers into thinking
it was the letter E, the most commonly used letter. For the true letter E, he
had used seven different symbols.

The killer had employed a check-off system so that alternates were used in
order although two different symbols were found to stand for A and S
interchangeably. The killer's spelling was poor, probably purposely so, and
in some places he had made mistakes in the use of his own cipher.
However, both the Hardens agreed that there could be no solution other than
the one they eventually found. The decoding had taken them twenty hours
of work.

The deciphered code read:

I LIKE KILLING PEOPLE BECAUSE IT IS SO MUCH

FUN IT IS MORE FUN THAN KILLING WILD GAME IN THE

FORREST BECAUSE MAN IS THE MOST DANGEROUE ANAMAL
OF ALL TO KILL SOMETHING GIVES ME THE MOST THRILLING
EXPERENCE IT IS EVEN BETTER THAN GETTING YOUR ROCKS
OFF WITH A GIRL THE BEST PART OF IT IS THAE WHEN I DIE I
WILL BE REBORN IN PARADICE AND THEI HAVE KILLED WILL
BECOME MY SLAVES I WILL NOT GIVE YOU MY NAME BECAUSE
YOU WILL TRY TO SLOI DOWN OR ATOP MY COLLECTIOG OF
SLAVES FOR AFTERLIFE EBEORIETEMETHHPITI
Harden dialed the Chronicle night editor long distance and reported solving
the puzzle. He received a less than enthusiastic response, since his was only
one of hundreds of calls the paper had gotten since the puzzle was printed.
Harden was told to mad the solution to the Chronicle, and they would put it
in the hands of Sergeant Lynch.

It turned out the Salinas couple really had cracked the cipher that had
mystified the CIA, FBI, and National Security Agency. Naval Intelligence
requested the Hardens' worksheets from Lynch, doublechecked them, and
pronounced the answer correct.

Thursday, August 7, 1969

The killer, in response to Chief Stiltz's request, wrote again. This time he
gave more details about the two Vallejo attacks. It was a three-page letter.
For the first time he used a name for himself: Zodiac.

Dear Editor

This is the Zodiac speaking. In answer to your asking for more details about
the good times I have had in Vallejo, I shall be very happy to supply even
more material. By the way, are the police haveing a good time with the
code? If not, tell them to cheer up; when they do crack it they will have me.
On the 4th of Jury: I did not open the car door, The Window was rolled
down all ready The boy was originally sitting in the front seat when I began
fireing. When I fired the first shot at his head, he leaped backwards at the
same time thus spoiling my aim. He ended up on the back seat then the
floor in back thrashing out very violently with his legs; that's how I shot
him in the knee. I did not leave the cene of the killing with squealling tires
& raceing engine as described in the Vallejo papers.

I drove away slowly so as not to draw attention to my car. The man who
told the police my car was brown was a negro about 40-45 rather shabbry
dressed. I was in this phone booth haveing some fun with the Vallejo cop
when he was walking by. When I hung the phone up the dam thing began to
ring & that drew his attention to me & my car.

None of these facts had ever been made public.

Last Christmass

In that epasode the police were

wondering as to how I could

shoot cV hit my victims in the

dark. They did not openly state this,

but implied this by saying it was a

well lit night & I could see

silowets on the horizon.

Bullshit that area is srounded

by high hills & trees. What

I did was tape a small pencel flash

light to the barrel of my gun. If

you notice, in the center of the beam

of light if you aim it at a wall or

ceilling you will see a black or

darck spot in the center of the

circle of light about 3 to 6 in

across.

When taped to a gun barrel, the

bullet will strike exactly in the

center of the black dot in the light.

All I had to do was spray them . . .

No address.

Zodiac had written that when the police cracked the code "they would have
him." What the killer didn't know was that the Hardens had already done
the deciphering, but that the murderer's identity still remained a mystery.

Tuesday, August 12, 1969

Finally the Hardens' solution was published and amateur code-breakers all
over the Bay Area agreed that the remaining letters at the end of the
enciphered message, "EBEORIETEMETHH-PITI," could be an anagram
for the killer's real name. Adding a

missing R, M, and P to the dubious anagram they came up with "ROBERT

EMMET THE HIPPIE."

Over the next few days inventive readers of the Chronicle continued to
come up with variations on the anagram: EMMET O. WRIGHT, ROBERT
HEMPHILL, VAN M. BLACK-MAN, I AM O. RIET, KENNETH O.
WRIGHT, LEO BLACKMAN, F. L. BOON, TIMOTHIE E. PHEIBERTE.

One subscriber suggested that the police take the notation "Rush to Editor"
that had appeared on the envelopes of all four Zodiac letters and look for a
Mr. Rush. One helpful citizen wrote Lynch that the letters at the end of the
decoded message stood for "San Benito Mental Hospital." The difficulty
with that was that there was no such place.

Lynch was unimpressed with the anagram idea. At most, he felt, the
"signature" may have only been the pen name of the slayer. Robert Emmet
was the name of an Irish Revolutionary patriot who was executed in 1803.
But to be safe Lynch was checking on Robert Emmets, hippie or straight.
"The garble might be just that—a garble," he said, "to try and throw us off
the track. After all, it says in the cipher, i will not give you my name/ We
aren't sure 'Robert Emmet' is who we are looking for," he added. "Maybe
he'll send another letter and let us know."

Harden felt that the last line was used only in a functional manner to (ill out
the cipher block and prevent cryptographers from knowing which block
was last.

Unlike Dr. D.C.B. Marsh, head of the American Cryptogram Association, I

did not think of the murderer as an expert in codes and ciphers. I felt that
Zodiac worked only from the example of others. Zodiac was an amateur
with codes, as were the Hardens. The hunted and the hunters mirroring each
other, feeling their way toward a resolution. We now knew which letter of
the alphabet each of the symbols stood for but what I wanted to know was
how the killer arrived at his choice of symbols.

Fifty-five characters comprise a very complicated cipher. Was this a totally

original code or had Zodiac used other sources to build his cipher system?
If he had used particular boob on code, perhaps these could be traced back
to him.

I began by looking for bask boob on secret writing. In the preface to The
Codebreakers by David Kahn a sample cipher alphabet is presented; eight
of the twenty-six suggested equivalents had been used by the kiDer. The
Zodiac must have had a copy of this book.

As to the rest of the strange symbols, the almost religious triangles, circles,
squares, and crosses, 1 remembered hearing of a cipher used during the
Middle Ages. It was a picture alphabet designed to appear mystical to the
uninformed, a cipher alphabet described as "vastly impressive" and
"sinister"—just the qualities a man bite the Zodiac killer would strive for.

I found it as easily as Kahn's sample code, in a book called Codes and

Ciphers, by John Laffin. The name of the thirteenth-century alphabet cipher
explained for me the choice of the killer's bizarre name. It was called the
"Zodiac Alphabet." Zodiac had used many symbols for each letter of the
alphabet and arrived at them through the inspiration of this early code.
For example, Zodiac's symbol for "R" vs " \ "; the Zodiac Alphabet symbol
for "R" is " ** ." Zodiac's symbol for T" is " H -. the alphabet's is "M."

I thought that if these two boob had inspired Zodiac's code then they might
be found in libraries in the Bay Area, along with records of who had
recently checked them out. Because of what appeared to be naval symbols
in the Zodiac cipher and because the killer had been described at Blue Rock
Springs as having a military-style crewcut, I gave particular attention to
army and navy installations in the areas around San Francisco and Vallejo

I called San Francisco's Presidio and Treasure Island Naval Base (where
fire had destroyed part of the library) as well as Oakland's Army Terminal.
In these cases the boob had either been stolen or were missing. Alameda
Naval Air Base never had the boob, and Hamilton Air Force Base had "no
records of either book." The librarian at Vallejo's Mare Island Naval
Shipyard told me the records had recently been purged.

At the JFK Information Center in Vaflejo, the librarian told me the book
was reported lost some time ago and added that Codes and Ciphers was
used "for eighth-grade level students as

reading material because of its simple language" In the San Francisco

Public Library the book was kept in the children's room.

In the letter Zodiac stated that:

WHEN I DIE I WILL BE REBORN IN PARADICE AND ALL I HAVE

KILLED WILL BECOME MY SLAVES

Professors at Stanford University recognized this odd mixture of Christian

and ancient cult beliefs as having roots in Southeast Asia and some Satan-
worshipping devil cults, such as the one run in San Francisco by Anton
LeVey. Could Zodiac belong to the ranks of such a cult?

In his cipher Zodiac also spoke of man as the most dangerous game. There
was a movie, out of release for many years, called The Most Dangerous
Game. I went to see it at one of those theaters that show silent films, just
outside San Francisco.
The 1932 RKO-Radio Picture, based on Richard Connell's famous 1924
short story, is the tale of a mad hunter, Count Zaroff, who uses fake channel
lights to lure passing ships onto the reefs just off his island stronghold. The
survivors of the sunken vessels become human game to be hunted in the
count's private jungle. Zaroff, as played by Leslie Banks, is a tall, suave
Russian with a jagged scar on his forehead. The injury has become a
symbol of his madness. "My life has been one glorious hunt," he tells his
prisoners, 'it would be impossible for me to tell you how many animals I
have killed. One night as I lay in my tent with this—this head of mine, a
terrible thought crept like a snake into my brain: hunting [animals] was
beginning to bore me.... when I lost my love for hunting, I lost my love of
life, of love. Here on my island I hunt the most dangerous game [humans]."
"Only after the kill does man know the true ecstasy of love," says Zaroff. 'it
is the natural instinct. Kill, then love! When you have known that you have
known ecstasy!" With his pack of black mastiffs, the count, dressed all in
black, his costume's folds gathered and

cinched at wrists and ankles, a foot-long knife in a sheath on his left side, a
precision rifle in his right hand, races swiftly through the fog in pursuit of a
young couple.

After the movie, I stopped in the soft night air outside the theater, looked
down the black streets wet with fog, and wondered if the inspiration for the
Vallejo murders had been a children's code book and a movie.

The Los Angeles Times reported the psychiatric information given to the
Vallejo police by the California Medical Facility in VacaviDe after the
breaking of the cipher.

"He is probably a guy who broods about cut-off feelings, about being cut
off from his fellow man. . . . Comparing the thrill of killing to the
satisfaction of sex is usually an expression of inadequacy.

"He probably feels his fellow man looks down on him for some reason. The
belief that his victims would be his slaves in an afterlife reflects a feeling of
omnipotence indicating a paranoid delusion of grandeur—expressed
through a belief common among primitive peoples throughout history.
"And the taunting notes and phone calls may be a plea to be found out,
exposed, perhaps cornered, in which event a grandiose paranoid quite likely
might take his own life, as a grand gesture, to punish the world for its
neglect of him in life."

Cecelia Aim Shepard

Saturday, September 27, 1969

For Cecelia Ann Shepard it had been a day of farewell with her friend,
Bryan Hartnell, a fellow student at Pacific Union College at Angwin in
Napa County on the east rim of the valley. She had known the tall, ruggedly
good-looking pre-law student since her first semester at PUC, and the two
had once been very close.

After spending the summer vacation with her parents in Loma Linda,
Cecelia had come back to PUC for the weekend to pack the few belongings
she had left at the school for shipment to Southern California. Having
finished her two years at Angwin, she was transferring to UC at Riverside
in October to study music.

Hartnell had driven back from Troutdale, Oregon, where he too had been
visiting with his parents, in order to give Cecelia a hand with her packing.

The two met at PUC early in the morning, and, after worship, spent an hour
putting her property into boxes. The air was exhilarating. They walked to
the school cafeteria from Newton Hall among the long, low, modern tan-
and-white buildings.

During lunch, Bryan asked, ''Are you doing anything special this
afternoon?"

"Why?"

"I don't know. We could go out for a walk or go to San Francisco. You
know, just because -we used to be such good friends, because we used to
have such a good friendship."
Bryan opened the door of his white Karmann Chia for the small, delicate
girl with sunlight hair, ran to the driver's side, and the couple sped happily
down Howell Mountain Road, past St. Helena Sanitarium, to Highway 29,
where they turned left toward Rutherford, home of Inglenook and Beaulieu,
old stone wineries with vaulted cellars. At a church charity rummage sale in
Napa they picked up an old TV set. Then they stopped in St. Helena for a
couple of items, met some friends, and later gave a lift home to a couple of
kids. And so it got late.

Instead of going to San Francisco, Bryan suggested Lake Ber-ryessa to

Cecelia. "There's this one place, a favorite of mine where I used to go all
the time," he told her.

The couple went by way of Pope VaUey and Knoxville Road, along the
twisting shoreline and inlets of the manmade lake. Berryessa is over
twenty-five miles long and three miles wide. It teems with blue gill,
German brown, kokanee, and rainbow trout as well as catfish, black bass,
and land-locked steelhead.

Earlier in the day, around 2:50 p.m., three twenty-one-year-old women had
come the same route as Bryan and Cecelia As they had pulled into a
parking spot near an A&W and stopped, another car, driven by a lone man,
pulled in beside them and then backed up so that his rear bumper was even
with theirs. The man sat there with his head down as if he were reading
something. The women got the feeling he wasn't.

The car was a silver or ice-blue '66 Chevrolet two-door sedan, with
California plates. The driver was twenty-five to thirty-five years old, over
six feet tall, and weighed about 200 to 230 pounds. He wore no glasses and
his dark hair was straight and parted on the side. He had on a black short-
sleeved sweat shirt and dark blue pants. A T-shirt hung out of the rear of his
trousers but he was

fairly clean cut and nice looking. He smoked one cigarette after another.

The girls drove away to the lake. They were sunbathing an hour later when
they saw the same man watching them. After twenty minutes, the man
drove off.
At 4:00, Bryan parked his '56 black vinyl-topped Ghia on the edge of the
road near the lake. There were no other can there. The pair walked a quarter
mile, down to where two large oak trees grew.

"It's an island during the wetter season," said Bryan. "You can see where it
was a levee. It's really beautiful out here."

The couple found a cool clearing for their picnic exactly 510 yards from the
road on a peninsula of the lake's west shoreline. They laid out a blanket and
sat and embraced for an hour.

The lake is surrounded by gentle hills, and the sun flashed off the placid
water in front of the couple. Bryan and Celia could see Coat Island before
them and to their left an occasional boat. The stretch of beach where they
lay was deserted, and the shrubbery covering the bank isolated them even
more.

Four-fifths of a mile down the road, a dentist and his young son had earlier
parked their car and walked down to the beach. The dentist and his son
noticed a man watching them in the still evening. He was within a hundred
yards of them, across an inlet. He was a white adult about five feet ten
inches tall, with a heavy build, wearing dark trousers and a long-sleeved
dark shirt with red coloring. The man wasn't carrying anything and seemed
to be just out for a walk along the hillside halfway between the road and the
lake.

The man became suddenly aware that the dentist and his son had noticed
him and, perhaps, that the boy was carrying a .22 rifle. He turned abruptly
and began walking up the hill in a southerly direction, thrusting his hands
into his blue windbreaker jacket.

Tire tracks showed the stocky man's car was parked directly behind the
dentist's car. The stocky man may have been stalking any can parked along
the route. When he saw the lone auto, he

had gone toward the lake to investigate its occupants.

The stranger left the dentist's car and drove south for exactly four-fifths of a
mile, where he saw the white Ghia. He pulled in behind it.

Slowly he came down from the highway to a gravel road. About 200
hundred yards from the highway, to his left, was a grove of trees and a
marsh. In the distance he saw a long peninsula, devoid of trees and brush,
stretching 310 yards into the lake. At the tip of this peninsula were the only
other trees outside of the grove, two oak trees. Under these, a boy and a girl
were lying on a blanket.

Apparently his plan was to stalk his "game" across a long exposed area and
to surprise them. A difficult task. How could he remain invisible and cross
an open space kept bare by the lake water during the rainy season?

Cecelia could make out the figure of a man in the distance. He stood far
across the wheat-colored clearing of the peninsula but she couldn't focus on
his face; it was hazy and indistinct, but he seemed to be watching them. The
man was stocky and powerfully built, his hair dark brown. He vanished into
a grove of trees about 2SO yards away and to Cecelia's right.

Moments later, she glimpsed the stocky man again as he came out of the
grove moving toward them. She stopped reminiscing with Bryan to mention
that they had company. Bryan was on his back on the blanket, the top of his
head pointing directly at the heavy figure advancing slowly across the
narrow, rock-strewn expanse. Cecelia was on her stomach facing toward the
shore, with her head on Bryan's shoulder. The man was very close now.

The evening breeze blew a bit of dust into Cecelia's eye, and when she
raised her head again the dark-garbed figure had disappeared. It was such a
balmy evening that Bryan did not even bother to turn around, but Cecelia
was alarmed. When she had seen the stranger so close, he was much more
menacing than he had appeared from a distance. He had been walking
heavily and slowly. How could he have disappeared so quickly and
completely?

A few moments later, Bryan heard a rustling of leaves. "Do you have your
specs on?" he asked. "Why don't you see what the deal is over there."
"It's that man," she said.

"Is he alone?"

"He just stepped behind a tree." At first Bryan thought she meant a tree in
the grove several hundred yards away.

"Well," said Bryan, "keep looking and tell me what happens."

Bryan and Cecelia were under the larger of the two oak trees on the island.
The stocky man was behind the second oak to Cecilia's right and twenty
feet away.

"My God, he's got a gun!" cried Cecelia, squeezing Bryan's arm. The stocky
man had emerged from behind the other tree and Bryan, out of the corner of
his eye, instantly became aware of a black, hulking shape over to his left
side, silently staring at him. As the couple turned, the figure was walking
straight at them.

The man had circled them. Behind the tree he had donned a ceremonial
midnight-black hood, square on top, with four corners like a paper sack. He
resembled some executioner from the Middle Ages.

The hood hung down over the stocky man's shoulders almost to his waist
and was sleeveless; front and back panels came down over his chest. The
top was flat, with stitching around the edges. Emblazoned in white on the
biblike front was a three-inch square cross placed over a circle. The ends of
the cross protruded past the circle. It glowed with an orange tint from the
setting sun and had been neatly, almost professionally applied. There were
slits for his eyes and mouth cut into the cloth and he wore a pair of clip-on
sunglasses over them. Bryan marveled at how ingeniously this mask was
devised.

The man's dark sleeves were clamped tight about his wrists, his trousers
were tucked above half boots. (Evidently Zodiac was wearing Mousing
rubbers, used by the military for trousers tucked into boots.) On his left side
was a bayonet-type knife, at least a foot long, in a sheath attached to his
belt. Around his waist on
the right side was a simple bbck bolster with an open Sap Several fcj^tfu of
co—OB^ariety wfcic bokmoore phstic ■ Uln ihii also hung bom beneath
the unknown man s jacket.

iTB aP^t SSDK CJDCOIj Hi UK MUI3BC CaMUE OITB1 8W as mi OC

thought was the nan's stomach hanging over his trousers However, the
stocky man's weajht seemed sobd, not nabby

The man $ nght hand *a$ head outstretched to*'arc the pa:: as he walked, in
it, he earned a blue-steel f a\uMil i m i u t m petal

Biyan and Ccrrlu were froaen in the twihght, w atch i n g the bafcyman
approach. It couldn't be a pracbealioke by any of their

rnen&&. they hadn t told anyone where tr>e^ *ttc going that da> Had thev
been toQowec

lads be came out," Bryan told me later. "Of course, there

for the experience of it I thought, weft, I've got only about fiftv cents on me
It's worth al of that having ft happen. I didn't think

of another angf

I r>e stocks ma.r» stood tc*w»'cnr;£ ;?vcr tr>c cou.p#e dm tr>e Okir. fcet "I
falkr*^ In *vrn " sa>^ Rpi'a^

speaker sounded to Brvar. to be betw>Ten tvi-mtv ar>d thirty | old.

That voice.. n wa^ a, a student V he toU inc later nod of a drawl, not a
Southern drawl, though

want your money and your car keys," awl the bob, •spot a

The man and soft-spoken

"He didn't seemwdl educated, but i later.

1 want your car to go to Mexico," iiibIbwiJ the i

Bryan looked up at the back doth hood with cap-on dark sun g i a uci
covering the eye boles. Beneath the sua of the hood, did he catch the
metafcegant of yet another pakof gfaaset' Bryan could see dark brown,
sweaty bah- through the ana as weft.

The stocky man wore a lightweight blue-black windbreaker over a reddish-

black wool shirt. This close, Bryan could see that the crossed circle symbol
was sewn on.

The man's hands were hidden by black gloves and he had on baggy, pleated
slacks "of the old-fashioned type." Bryan judged him to be between five
foot ten inches and six foot one or two inches and to weigh between two
hundred and twenty-five and two hundred fifty pounds. Bryan was a poor
judge of height, because of his own extraordinary tallness.

He fumbled quickly in his pockets for money and keys. "I've only got a
little/' he said and handed over the last of the money he had, along with the
keys to the V.W. The masked intruder pocketed the change and tossed the
keys on the blanket, then put the gun away in the holster.

Bryan thought, Maybe the guy really does need help. Then he said, 'There's
no strings attached. I don't have any money right now, but if you need help
that badly I can help you out in another way maybe."

"No," said the stranger. 'Time's running short. I'm an escaped convict from
Deer Lodge, Montana. I've killed a prison guard there. I have a stolen car
and nothing to lose. I'm flat broke."

"Well, man," said Bryan, "wouldn't you rather be stuck on a stealing charge
than a threat of homicide?"

"Just don't start playing hero on me," said the man. "Don't try to grab the
gun."

"I didn't really figure the gun was loaded," Bryan told me later. "I always
thought it was empty. I heard a lot of times that this is what they do just as a
bluff, but I decided not to call his bluff."

Bryan told the man, "You're really wasting time with me. I got a billfold
and this much change and that's it."

"I talked all kinds of weird stuff," he told me, "just weird shit. I was taking
a sociology class. You're talking about a sophomore in college. Never really
run into a real-life criminal. Gee, this guy was nothing to worry about. ...
He wanted just my money. I told him all I had was seventy-six cents and he
never ended up taking anything. If I remember right, I gave him the keys
and somehow they got left behind. He talked about how the car he had was
hot.

I thought he meant he had a very fast car and commented to him about it
and he said it was stolen. He talked about being in prison and about
contacting me. We talked for quite a while."

The hooded man detached the two-and-one-half to three-foot lengths of

clothesline.

The stocky man's knife was even with Bryan's eyes and he stared at it,
trying to fix as many details as possible in his mind. The blade was about
three-quarters of an inch to one inch wide and eleven to twelve inches long,
maybe a bayonet or bread knife, with a hardwood handle decorated with
two brass rivets. White surgical cotton tape one inch wide was wrapped
around the handle, and the whole knife was fitted into a sheath of wood.
The blade was sharpened on both sides.

Had Bryan ever seen TTie Most Dangerous Game he would have
recognized it as a good copy of the knife Count Zaroff wore on his black
hunting outfit.

"Lie face down on the ground," said the hooded man. "I'm going to have to
tie you up."

Bryan defiantly stood up, and was ordered back down on the blanket. "I kid
you not, Robert," Bryan said later, "I became really annoyed at the thought
of being hogtied. Just really annoyed, and I argued with him about it and
thought, not really sensibly but more in the neighborhood of cops and
robbers, about getting the gun away. I always felt the way he handled the
gun I could have gotten it. The only reason I didn't was I figured it really
was a highly optional thing to do and if I screwed up and somebody got hurt
I was going to get blamed for being a hero or trying to be a hero."

"You know, I think I can get that gun," Bryan whispered to Cecelia. "Do
you mind?"

"And she got kind of fearful about it," Bryan told me, "so I figured since
there are two lives involved, not just mine, I wouldn't do it. I thought, Let's
just play it safe. This is the way to do it. If somebody robs you, you
cooperate. You give them your money. He seemed kind of kooky but was
carrying on a fairly logical conversation. All he wanted was the money."

The hooded man turned toward Cecelia.

"You tie the boy up," said the stranger.

Cecelia wound the line around Bryan's hands and feet and tied a couple of
loose knots. "She tied me really loose/' Bryan said to me, "and I kept my
hands apart. Like you see on TV."

While Cecelia was tying Bryan, she reached into his pocket and threw his
wallet to the hooded man. He did not pick up the wallet. When she had
finished, the stocky man tied her up in a similar fashion. When he touched
the girl his hands began to shake, but he bound her very securely. He then
found the loose knots on Bryan and double-clinched them (tied them twice
as tightly).

"He retied me, extremely tight/' said Bryan. "It was that hollow clothesline
rope."

"I'm getting nervous," said the man.

Now the two students were helpless, Cecelia on her stomach and Bryan on
his left side. "In retrospect," Bryan told me, "why would anyone tie you up
after they had robbed you or found out you didn't have any money? Why
didn't he have me walk a hundred yards down the way and say, don't turn
around. It didn't make sense to hogtie me."

The hooded man talked to them in such a quiet voice that it never occurred
to the couple that they would be harmed in any way. Bryan repeated his
offers of help, and the three talked for minutes more on the darkening
island.

"There was something distinctive about his voice. If I remember correctly, it

was not forced. No accent. He had a pronounced way of saying things. He
wasn't talking like we're talking now," said Bryan. "Not that I was trying to
suck it out of him. He wasn't really trying to talk to me. I was the one
asking the questions. He was certainly volunteering nothing. The first time
I'm down there laying on my stomach and I'm saying, 'O.K., now that this is
all over will you show me if the gun was loaded?' He popped open the end
of the gun and he pulled out the cartridges and showed me a bullet. It
looked like a .45-caliber.*

"He put it away and I turned my head away."

The Colt 45 1911A1, used by the U.S. Armed Forces is "similar in design
and function" to the Browning High Power but is heavier, longer, and holds
only seven cartridges.

The bound couple heard a voice now grown husky say from beneath the
hood, 'Tm going to have to stab you people."

A shock went through the helpless pair

"The first time I suspected any iota of trouble was when I saw the knife
come out, and then I felt that was it. That was the first hint that things were
going to be worse than me getting possibly stuck tied up there overnight."

"Please stab me first/' said Bryan, 'Tm chicken. I couldn't stand to see her
stabbed."

"I'll do just that," said the hooded figure.

He dropped to his knees and ripped the foot-long knife from its sheath and
raised it high over Bryan's back. He began stabbing the boy in the back.
Spurting blood spotted Cecelia's face until it began to run down it in thin
rivulets.

"I'm laying on my stomach," Bryan told me later. "Put yourself in my shoes,

someone hits you in the back. What's the first thing you do? You stiffen . . .
you just wait for it to stop. There's not a hell of a lot you can do. You're in
the most vulnerable position you can be in. For me ... I was just waiting for
it to stop. She's watching all this stuff coming down and screaming for him
to stop and all this. She turns on her side so by the time he comes to her she
knows precisely what's going to happen and what's the reaction? Try to get
away. Try to move out of the way.

"You have these few seconds to recognize what's happening. You're gonna
be in a lot different position and that was w hy she got—she was a fairly
frail-bone-type person. She wasn't skinny but she wasn't heavy-boned.
When he hit her, he broke ribs."

When Bryan gave a moan and finally seemed to collapse from the intense
pain, the black hood turned toward the girl. What was the expression
beneath the dark fabric? The heavy breathing of the man spasmodically
sucked the cloth in and out.

Still on his knees, the man gave a ghastly, frenzied sound and, letting out a
long, low exhalation, began stabbing the girl in the back. Ten times the
knife fell. Instinctively, Cecelia rolled over onto her back, and the dark
hunter continued thrusting. Once he plunged the knife to its full length into
her chest. Once into each breast, once into the groin area, and once into the
abdomen.

"Stop, stop, stop,. . ." pleaded the girl. The more she twisted and writhed,
the more madly the hooded figure stabbed.

"She's on her side," Bryan told me. "He's stabbing her in the side. I heard
later that he had stabbed in the shape of the Zodiac crossed-circle symbol
but... there was really too much movement for him to do anything that
deliberate.
"I think he got her on front and back and sides but that was because she was
doing the moving. If I remember right, he was trying to hold her but she . . .

"And I turned away. I looked but then it flashed on me, Hey, look . . . what
am I looking at? I can't stand this.

"And I turned away.

"And when I turned away I thought, Smart Hartnell isn't going to move.
Obviously I couldn't do anything to save her, but I'm not going to be
making any noise or I would die. . . . Freeze."

Sated at last, the stocky man stood up and tossed the money and keys onto
the blanket next to his victims. He walked slowly across the open peninsula
and was soon lost in the empty twilight.

Back on the road, the stocky man put the hood and bloody knife on the
front seat of his car, strode to Bryan's locked Chia, and knelt by the door on
the front passenger side, which was away from the road. He did something
to the door and then started up his own car. He had a call to make.

"I don't think I went out," Bryan told me. "If I did black out . . . there is a
slight haze in my memory. . . . What I heard him do was walk away in a
nonhurried fashion. I quit breathing. I just froze, and then after that there's a
little dead spot. But I remember having always contended that I never lost
consciousness.

"When you really look at exactly what happened to me, you'll see I was
extremely fortunate in that he grazed my heart sac and caused a little bit of
the fluid inside to be pink, but he didn't pierce it. Just a fraction of an inch
to the right and I would have been dead.

"Cecelia's aorta was cut in several places; mine wasn't. One blade went on
one side and one on the other. I really never got

hurt. I mean I did, but nothing of any degree of permanency."

Cecelia recovered consciousness and the couple began yelling for help.
Bryan's primary concern was "just staying alive" and the next step was
getting himself free to go for help. Painfully, he twisted himself into
position to get his teeth on the white clothesline around Cecelia's wrists.
Blood from the girl's wounds had covered the plastic line and made it
slippery; his mouth filled with it. The work was slow and agonizing.
Eventually, the girl was free and turned over to untie Bryan's own hands.

"The first trouble we had," Bryan told me, "was he tied me pretty tight. So,
gee, I really don't know to this day any reason why she was able to get the
cords undone, considering the weakness of her condition. Anyway, when
she did get the multiple knots loose, it took awhile for my hands to unnumb
'cause they had been tied for a half hour without really much circulation at
all. So that took quite a while to get my hands free enough to move and quit
ringing."

Bryan's intention had been to crawl for help, but he had lost so much blood
he could barely move.

A Chinese fisherman from San Francisco and his son in a small boat on the
lake had heard moans coming from the tip of the peninsula, and they rowed
closer for a look. Seeing the terrible sight, they dared not come any farther.
They left to search for help. Two miles away at the Rancho Monticello
Resort, the fisherman rushed in to tell rangers of the attack. Ranger Dennis
Land and Ranger Sergeant William White were in their patrol car three
miles away when the call came in over the radio from park headquarters
down by the water. "I dropped Bill White off at Rancho Monticello," Land
told me, "and he went by boat to the scene and I got enough information
from him to know where it was, so I came by car. I didn't know what I was
looking for at all. All I knew was that somebody was hurt, that he had cut
his foot or . . ."

Back on the peninsula, when he saw the Chinese fisherman and his son row
away, Bryan had figured no one would come. He started crawling toward
the road. "All I made it up to was the jeep trail when I saw a car coming."

"I found the boy," said Land. "He had crawled about 300 yards from where
the initial stabbing had taken place. He was totally untied and en route to
the road. I didn't see anybody suspicious. He was lying alongside the dirt
road .. . and I got out and looked at him real quickly. He told me his
girlfriend was out on the island. As quickly as I could, I got into my car and
drove down to where she was."

Two boats carrying Ranger White and the owners of Rancho Monticello
arrived, and the rangers wrapped Bryan and Cecelia in blankets until the
ambulance could get there. There was no ambulance at the lake; it would
have to come all the way from Queen of the Valley Hospital, almost an hour
away. While telling the rangers what had happened, the couple kept drifting
in and out of consciousness.

As he had crawled, Bryan had kept thinking over and over, "Oh, my God, I
don't want to die." Bryan was certain the hooded man had felt they were
dead when he left. "I guess I was just

afraid to die. I don't remember that much terrible pain I was

mostly in shock," he said. "But she was in pain, just excruciating pain."

"They were suffering so terribly," White later told Dave Smith of the L.A.
Times. "The girl, she kept pleading with me to give her something to kill
the pain or knock her out. She was writhing on the ground in agony and I
could barely feel her pulse. I tried to think of something to do. They weren't
bleeding anymore, but there were so many stab wounds."

OceanofPDF.com
Cecelia had been stabbed twenty-four times.

"I remembered," continued White, "something I'd heard long ago about
scratching somewhere away from the pain, that would help to take your
mind off it. So I told the girl about that. She tried it and told me it helped for
a few minutes but then she started begging me again to put her out of her
misery."

The victims, in critical condition, were rushed to the hospital. The girl went
into surgery for most of the night.

"Cecelia was in such pain the whole distance," Bryan told me, "until she
finally started going out of it, kinda losing it mentally.

I don't know what would have happened if they hadn't come. . . . Clearly
she would have been D.O.A., and I don't know, I might have been too. You
know, blood loss; even though no vital organs are hit, you die from no
juice."

The report of the double stabbing at Berryessa was logged at 7:13 p.m. at
the Napa Sheriff's Office. Officer Dave Collins and Deputy Ray Land,
Dennis' brother, were sent to the scene.

At 7:40 p.m., one hour and ten minutes after the knifing, the phone rang at
Napa P.D. and was answered by the officer-operator.

"Napa police department, Officer Slaight."

The call was on line one. "1 want to report a murder—no, a double murder,"
said the caller. It sounded like the voice of a man in his early twenties to
Slaight. The voice was calm.

"They are two miles north of Park Headquarters. They were in a white
Volkswagen Karmann Chia."

There was a long pause.

"Where are you?" asked Slaight.

"I'm the one that did it," said the man in a voice that was "barely audible."

The dispatcher heard the receiver put down, but the connection was not
broken. "Is there anyone there? Is there anyone there?" asked Slaight. He
could tell that the line was still open because he could hear traffic passing.
"For some reason I got the impression," he said later, "there were people
near or around because I seem to recall hearing feminine voices in the
background ... however, at the time I was in the process of phoning the
Napa Sheriffs Office on another line, so it was hard to tell. I informed the
S.O. of the call and then phoned the operator to see if the call could be
traced."

Police quickly traced the signal to a pay phone located at 1231 Main Street,
the Napa Car-Wash. It was only four and one-half blocks from the police
station and exactly twenty-seven miles from the scene of the attack. The
police were able to lift a good palm print from the receiver; the print had to
be dried with artificial light before they could dust the surface in order to

remove it. A print has to be dry or the powder will adhere to all the
moisture rather than the acids in the hand as the powder i% designed to do.

That the killer thought both students were dead showed he had left the lake
immediately.

The awkward one-way streets in Napa and the location of the phone booth
caused me to believe that Zodiac was as familiar with Napa as Vallejo. He
had taken a right on First Street and gone until he came to the Napa P.D.,
then taken another right onto Main and made his call to the cops. Afterward
the killer had to take Soscol Avenue back onto 121 (which became
Highway 29)*; and since he could not go back in the direction of the lake,
he would have been headed south right into Vallejo. Was his home in
VaBejo? Or beyond?

The killer liked to call close to the police station, which might explain why
he didn't call along the way from Berryessa. And as usual, he had killed or
attacked in areas of confused police jurisdiction.
Tough, heavy-set Detective Sergeant Kenneth Narlow of Napa County
Sheriffs Office took charge of the investigation and made certain the area of
the lakeside attack was canvassed for witnesses who may have seen anyone
suspicious. "When I got the call from the office/' Narlow told me, "I
immediately went to the hospital to talk to the victims. There was no sense
in me rushing to Berryessa. Cecelia Shepard was unconscious."

When Narlow finally arrived at the crime scene, his broad, tanned face
clouded with anger. Someone had gathered up the multicolored woolen
blanket and rope before he got there and put them in a box for him.

Then Narlow looked at the door of the white V.W., and what he saw made
the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. The killer had written on the
door with a black felt-tip pen:

Vallejo 12-2048

Sept 27-69-6:30

by knife

The numbers meant something to Narlow. They were the dates of the
killings in Vallejo and Solano counties. There was a maniac at large, and he
had moved north.

The crime-lab technicians discovered tire tracks from the attacker's car and
made plaster casts, "moulages." There were two different-size tires on the
front, very worn. Width between the wheels was listed by the police as
fifty-seven inches.

A close examination by Deputy Collins revealed an odd footprint leading

up to Bryan's car where the writing had been put on the door. The same
prints led down to the murder scene and back up the hill to the road. Casts
were made of the killer's footprints, size lOVi. These prints were very deep.
Narlow called for one of the more overweight cops to walk alongside the
tracks. He weighed about two hundred and ten pounds but did not sink
down as deeply as Zodiac did. "Yes, we took a compaction test in the sand
by an officer," Narlow told me, "and in order to put that print so deeply into
the sand we figured the Zodiac weighed 220 pounds." It was a heavy man
they were dealing with; clear prints at the heel indicated the man was not
running when he left.

"I described this guy as being really fat," Hartnell told me later, "I don't
know, he could have been moderately heavy and wearing a thickly lined
windbreaker. And it's not impossible that the guy was wearing a wig, but
the dark hair. I remember kind of a greasy forehead."

Narlovv knelt on the sandy rock and looked closely at the shoe prints.
Between the heel and the sole there was a strange little circle with printing.
"The circle showed, but we couldn't make out the printing. But that's how
we identified that particular sole. We were able to determine who the
manufacturer was," Narlow told me. He later discovered that they were
from a chucker-type boot called the "Wing Walker." "The uppers are
manufactured

77

by a company called the Weinbrenner Shoe Company," said Narlow.

"They're in Merrill, Wisconsin, which is only about twenty miles from my
hometown. The soles are manufactured by Avon—Avon, Massachusetts.
That's the printing in the little circle." Over one million of these shoes were
manufactured as part of a government contract. 103,700 pairs of "Wing
Walkers" had been shipped to Ogden, Utah, and distributed to Air Force
and Navy installations on the West Coast.

The government-issue boot pointed to a killer who was involved in some

way with the military.

"I don't think [the couple was] really followed, for the simple reason that
their plans to go to Berryessa were strictly on the spur of the moment," said
Narlow. "Nothing was planned; in fact, they were supposed to go to the city
that night. Contrary to some published reports, the wounds weren't in any
sadistic shape or form, no pattern to them or anything like that ... no carving
on the breasts to indicate any Zodiac sign.
"Certain type assailants use certain weapons because it gets them closer to
their victims. If you wanted to go out and kill for the sheer sake of killing
you could use a high-powered rifle and a scope and kill at two hundred,
three hundred yards, but you wouldn't achieve a kind of sexual effect. But
by plunging a knife into someone it's the most intimate contact you can
have with a victim, and there's no question about it, it's where Zodiac gets
some of his thrills." Narlow also stressed to me that the knife is a silent
killer.

He also discovered that there had been a man acting oddly around the lake
earlier in the day, and arranged for Bob McKenzie of the Napa Register to
produce an Identi-Kit composite drawing. "This particular sketch," Narlow
told me, "was drawn with the assistance of three young girls of Pacific
Union College who had seen this particular individual in a car acting
suspiciously, but this wasn't even near the scene of the crime. Still, it could
easily have been the guy."

"This may not be the killer," said Captain Don Townsend of the Napa
County Sheriff's Office, "but we would like to talk with the fellow."

The lab men examined the clothesline and removed the car

door for tests and handwriting analysis and eventually for storage until the
slayer was caught.

With a friend, I drove to Berryessa to speak with Ranger Land and take a
really close look at the murder site.

Berryessa was practically deserted this time of year and I had no trouble
finding Park Headquarters. They reached Land by radio, and within fifteen
minutes we were on our way by car to where Bryan and Cecelia were
attacked one-half mile away.

"No question about it, Robert/' said Land, "it was quite bizarre. The mere
fact that somebody had been stabbed up there is not all that uncommon.
During the summer months we had different reported stabbings. This was
the second murder up here, but the other one's kinda iffy. We don't know if
it was a murder or not. Could have been a suicide."
The dusty road was closed off by a chain, but Land got out and undid the
combination lock and we drove right out onto the peninsula.

"Watch out for rattlers," he warned.

The day after the murder, Land had been up in a fixed wing plane taking
aerial photos of the attack site. Hie peninsula stuck straight out. I looked at
the photos. It was hard to imagine anyone being able to sneak up on
someone across a long open area with just two trees at the very end. It
wasn't until I sat in the same spot as Bryan and Cecelia and had a friend
walk toward me across the peninsula that I realized how the stocky man had
disappeared from sight.

To my left, facing shoreward, was a deep depression curving around the

light rise of the island with the two oaks on it. At one point my friend just
vanished. The depression, over six feet deep, was like a narrow ledge
encircling the island. It had enabled the stocky man, without even
crouching, to come around them, across a sandy shelf of beach, and to the
oak tree, which he climbed up behind and donned his hood.

I looked out at the peaceful lake. In a month the rainy season would swell
the lake and engulf the ground on which I stood. I realized that all of
Zodiac's killings had been around water. What was the attraction for him?

Monday, September 29, 1969

At 3:45 in the afternoon, Cecelia Ann Shepard, attended by her parents,

died from multiple stab wounds to her back, chest, and abdomen.

Townsend had Bryan put under close guard immediately. "With a

psychopath on the loose, we can't take any chances with the only living
witness/' he said.

Bryan was bitter that the ambulance took over an hour to reach them at the
lake and then another hour to reach the hospital. "If Cecelia had gotten
medical attention when the rangers found us she might have survived. It
seemed so long before help arrived."
Thursday, October 2, 1969

On the day the saddened Adventist community attended the funeral for
Cecelia at the college church's sanctuary, Townsend told the press, "There
are a couple of other things we're stiU holding back so we'll be able to
identify the man if he wants to call again. He can't be anyone but a mentally
ill person. He must get his sex gratification from the act of killing/'

Townsend admitted the crosshair symbol on the car door was the same one
Zodiac used in letters to the newspapers. Napa residents were cautioned to
stay out of remote areas, and to travel in groups after dark until the maniac
was caught. The fast-food joints and drive-ins became wastelands at night.
In Vallejo, parents told their teenagers that if they would stay safely
indoors, they could neck with their dates undisturbed.

Narlow's investigation involved Lundblad and Lynch as well as Mel Nicolai

of Criminal Identification and Investigation (CI&I). The four worked
closely together, exchanging theories and information.

The detectives considered what the Zodiac crimes had in common:

1. The victims were young students, couples.

2. The attacks all occurred on weekends, two near holidays.

3. The murders were at dusk or night.

4. Robbery or sexual molestation was not a motive.

5. A different weapon was used each time.

6. The killer had a compulsion to brag about the murders by phone or letter

7. Zodiac killed in remote lovers' lanes.

8. The slayings all occurred around and in cars.

9. The victims were always near water

Townsend believed that the killer had more hatred for the woman victim
than the man, since in two cases the man survived the attack while the
woman did not. This psychotic executioner seemed to seek out the areas
that offered privacy to young couples on weekend nights, when he himself
was probably most lonely.

The frightening thing was that now, the killings were coming closer and
closer together.

Paul Lee Stine

Saturday, October 11, 1969

It is not easy to park your car at the bottom of a steep San Francisco hill.
The stocky man turned his wheels toward the curb, set his handbrake,
locked the door, and puffed up the hill to catch a bus to the theater district.

He got off at Post and Powell and stood for a while in Union Square,
watching the rows of canary-colored cabs coming and going from in front
of the elegant old St. Francis Hotel. This evening he wore a blue-black
parka-type jacket to guard against the chill wind off the bay.

Crossing Powell, he began walking up Geary to Mason. Flurries of red

taillights passed him and he could see dark couples moving into the brilliant
lights of the theater district a block away. It was 9:30 and the audience from
the first show of Hair poured out of the Geary Theatre. Next door to the
Geary was the even more massive and ornate Curren. The stocky man
moved back under the red-striped awning of Harold's Books and Magazines
and watched the cabs—Luxor, Desoto, Veteran's, City, and Yellow—
converge on the theaters.

Paul Lee Stine was parked in the taxi zone in front of the St

Francis when he received a call for Ninth Avenue. Stine pulled his cab into
the Powell Street traffic and turned onto Geary. On the side of his cab were
the words "Call 626-2345 Radio Dispatched." The door on the driver's side
had been caved in in an accident days earlier.

The crowds slowed Stine down. As he began to edge his cab ahead, passing
the Pinecrest Restaurant, a stocky man stepped from beneath a striped
awning, placed his hand on the driver's side, near the rearview mirror, and
looked down into the cab. Lights behind the man's body silhouetted him,
the glare showing through his crew-cut hair revealing the curve of his skull.
As he got in the back seat, the stranger requested an address in the Presidio
Heights residential district. Stine logged the address on his trip-sheet
"Washington Street and Maple" and started the meter.

The cab traveled west up Geary to the corner of Van Ness Avenue, where
Stine turned right, then moved along auto row to California, where he took
a left. Eleven blocks later, Stine swung onto Divisadero. Another left, and
the cab proceeded west on Washington. The night closed in behind them.

Well-lit and wet with fog, Washington Street was lined with stately,
expensive homes with great rows of steps and massive quantities of filigree
and wrought iron. When the cab slowed at Maple and Washington, the trip
sheet destination, the stocky man could dimly make out his own car parked
at the foot of the steep hill. After he finished his work in the cab, the stocky
man planned to sprint downhill to the auto and disappear into the night.

Suddenly a man appeared in the headlights of Stine's cab, a man out

walking his dog. The stocky man leaned forward and told the cabdriver,
"Go another block."

There was a soft breeze and the stocky man could hear wind chimes from
one of the homes nearby. The cab stopped between two trees on the corner
of Washington and Cherry, directly in front of 3898 Washington.

Abruptly, the stocky stranger pressed the muzzle of a gun tightly against the
driver's right cheek just in front of his right ear;

83
with the crook of his left arm he seized Stine's throat. Vainly, Stine tried to
raise his left hand over his right shoulder. The stocky man firmly squeezed
the trigger; the firearm discharged.

There was little noise. A seal was created between the skin and the muzzle
and the blast was expended into the body tissues. Particles of unburned
powder exploded about the breech of the weapon, peppering the gloved
hands of the attacker. A conical perforation of the skull was created as the
projectile was fired. The bullet, twisting and spiraling, particles of molten
metal being thrown off as it traveled over a thousand feet per second,
created multiple fractures of Stine's skull. The copper-jacketed lead bullet,
mashed and fragmented into four segments, penetrated left and laterally
toward the midsection of the left zygomatic arch and finally lodged in the
left temporalis muscle.

In unison, the barrel and slide of the gun recoiled until the barrel's
movement was arrested. Continuing backward, the slide passed over the
hammer, cocked it, and slammed against the receiver as the empty casing
was seized and ejected onto the floor of the cab. The slide sprung forward
again, peeled off the next cartridge from the double-rowed magazine, and
forced it into the chamber, then relocked with the barrel. The gun was ready
to be fired again.

The killer exited the rear door and entered the right front door. Then he held
Stine's head in his lap while he took Stine's wallet and tore off a portion of
his shirt.

At 9:55 p.m., a fourteen-year-old girl directly across the street from the taxi
looked out of the middle window from the second floor of the building.
There was a party going on but she leaned forward, shaded her eyes, and
looked down into the misty street below. Abruptly, she called to her sixteen-
year-old brother and a younger brother to come to the window. They were
almost fifty feet away and their view of the cab was unobstructed.

A stocky man had the head of the cabdriver cradled in his lap. He appeared
to be struggling with the driver or searching him. Then he leaned over the
cabbie's body to the driver's side and seemed to be wiping down the interior
of the taxi.
The stocky man had been doing something to the driver's body

but the partygoers, who had now crowded around the upstairs window,
could not tell what. The front passenger side of the cab opened, and
eventually the heavyset man got out.

He came around the cab, taking with him some sort of rag or towel, and
began wiping down the driver's side door, the handle, around the outside
mirror and the left passenger side. At one point he opened up the driver's
door and leaned forward to wipe off the area of the dashboard again. To
steady himself*, he leaned his right hand on the rail separating the front and
rear windows. The fragment of cloth was still in his left hand. Then he
closed the door and walked away.

When he turned the corner, passing close to a mailbox, the children lost
sight of him. He was headed north on Cherry in the direction of the
Presidio. He did not run.

While all this was happening, the partygoers had called the police
communications center. The report was logged by the operator at 9:58 p.m.
The operator could tell the caller was under great stress. As he filled out the
card with the caller's address, he asked, "Was the crime in progress?"

'Tes."

He tried to get a physical description of the man, and at this point an

incredible blunder was made: somehow the assailant was mistakenly
described as an NMA—Negro Male Adult. A black man.

"What was the general direction of his departure? Was he armed?"

The operator jotted down the answers. Immediately, the card was handed to
die dispatcher, who leaned forward over his lighted panel, consulted a
complex map of San Francisco divided into districts and sectors, and
broadcast a general call to all police units, cars, and wagons: an APB.

"Caution urged," he added.

A police patrol unit was near Cherry and Washington and raced toward the
scene. The patrol reached Jackson and Cherry by 10:00 and saw a stocky
man "lumbering" along in the fog toward die Presidio.

The radio unit, Patrolmen Donald Foukes and Eric Zelms,

looking for a black man, shouted to the stranger and asked if he had seen
anything unusual in the last minute or so. The stocky man called out he'd
seen a man waving a gun running east on Washington, and the patrol car
sped off in that direction.

Had the radio unit actually stopped the stocky man, they would have seen
that he was drenched in blood where Stine's head had rested in his lap. The
stains were hidden by his dark clothes and the deep shadows of the trees
along the street. The officers, because of the communications mix-up, had
no reason to be looking for a WMA—a White Male Adult. Had the
policeman called the stocky man to the side of their car for a few quick
questions both officers might well have been gunned down; the killer would
have had the advantage of the 9-mm gun hidden in his right hand. The
senior patrolman had seen the stocky man's left profile clearly, but it would
be some time before the two cops realized they had actually spoken with
Stine's killer. They had come within a whisper of capturing him. This was
the beginning of the stocky man's pathological obsession with the San
Francisco police.

The stocky man stopped in the cool night air. Instead of doubling back to
his car right away, he went on into the Presidio and walked to the Julius
Kahn Playground. Then, crouching slightly against the stone wall, the man
worked south back to his auto.

At 10:55 p.m. Officers Armand Pelissetti and Frank Peda arrived,

responding to the alarm simultaneously with Homicide Inspector Walter
Kracke, who was nearby, on his way home. Both cars stopped just behind
the cab. The men ran from their autos to find Paul Stine shot in the head, his
upper torso in the passenger side, his head resting on the floorboard.

When Kracke opened the door, the driver's left hand fell outward, palm up,
nearly touching the street. The attacker had not bothered to take his watch
and the detective could see the thin black band around the slain man's wrist.
A Timex. The attacker had also left Stine his class ring.

The cab meter was still running. The keys to the cab were missing.

The officers called an ambulance, "code three," and broadcast

an amended description of the killer as a White Male Adult that the

teenagers had given them. More units converged on the scene.

Ambulance #82 arrived at 10:10 p.m. The ambulance steward pronounced

Stine dead. Kracke had called out every dog unit available and requested a
fire department spotlight vehicle to light up the area. He then notified the
San Francisco coroner. Because Inspector Kracke had heard the initial
police radio communication and automatically responded, with the help of
the two Richmond station cops he was able to preserve a perfect crime
scene.

At 10:20 p.m., a call was placed for the on-duty homicide team, the men
who would stay on the case until it was solved.

Homicide Inspector Dave Toschi (pronounced Tahs-kee) was exhausted,

physically and mentally. He had gone to bed the minute he had gotten
home, at eight o'clock. The phone rang at 10:30

P.M.

Toschi answered and heard the voice of the night office police operator,
calling from the fourth floor of the Hall of Justice on Bryant Street.

"Dave," the operator said, "Yellow Cab driver's been shot, probably robbed
and possibly stabbed."

"Where?" groaned Toschi.

"On Washington Street," said the communications officer, "between Maple

and Cherry. Closer to Cherry."
"What the hell is going on," thought Toschi. This would be his fourth
murder since the seventh of October. He'd just gotten home from a
homicide, a beating death. "Jesus Christ, four homicides in four days!"

The detective reached for his familiar yellow lined tablet and wrote the
date, the exact time he had received the information by phone, and the name
of the communications operator.

Toschi phoned his partner, Bill Armstrong, and told him that he'd pick him
up in ten minutes. Then, Toschi had an afterthought. He dialed the number
of the operation's center. 'There are a lot of people on a Saturday night
wandering by that scene; be sure they try and preserve die scene as much as
possible. TeD

them to keep as many people as they can away from the cab. And under no
conditions let anybody touch the vehicle."

Toschi called the crime lab, stumbled into his small bathroom, and ran his
hands through his curly black hair. Hie detective brushed his teeth and
dressed quickly in tan slacks, his second-string set of soft hushpuppies, dark
socks, corduroy jacket, and all-weather raincoat. It was cold out and he was
often gone for as long as two days. Inspectors work in eight two-man
rotating teams. The "on-call team" is responsible for all homicides
occurring during their week and have the next seven weeks to work on
these cases.

Toschi paused long enough to gulp down a lukewarm cup of Instant Folgers
coffee, grabbed his ever present folder, and kissed his wife Carol good-bye.
She was used to his being called away at any time and on a moment's
notice.

He started up the family car, a red, two-door Borgward, and backed out of
the garage. Minutes later, Toschi spotted his partner on the corner, wearing
a Made turtleneck sweater and black raincoat. Armstrong got in. On the
way to the crime scene Toschi notified the military police for help in the
search for the kiDer. The two inspectors arrived at the buzzing murder site
at 11:10, precisely the same time as the M.Rs, and just three minutes after
the coroner had gotten there.
Red lights, flashing blue lights, klieg lights, blazing yeDow lights:
Washington Street was glowing like a summer's day. Several hundred
people had gathered by the time the detectives parked across from the cab,
just under the window where the teenagers' party had been going on. Toschi
was glad he had called operations to be sure the cab was really sealed off.
But even while isolating the scene from an overcurious crowd, Toschi and
Armstrong had to be careful not to drive away any important witnesses or
touch or step on anything themselves.

A patrolman filled them in on the details of the murder. It seemed to

Armstrong and Toschi that this had begun as one of the many cab robberies
that occur in San Francisco every week,

but had become a clumsy and inefficient cab robbery gone terribly wrong.

The two partners considered it the work of an amateur: the killer left the
scene dripping blood, and most likely did not get much money for his
effort. They could estimate from the waybill that Stine had on him at most
twenty or twenty-five dollars. The killer had taken Stine's wallet.

In his yellow ledger, Toschi wrote a complete description of the body and
its immediate surroundings. On Stine's person the killer had overlooked
seven keys, one ring, one checkbook, and some papers: auto and
motorcycle registrations. There was exactly $412 in the dead man's pocket,
all in change.

There was blood all over the cab.

Toschi stayed with the car while Armstrong took the names and addresses
of all witnesses.

Toschi leaned down and scrutinized the body, noting any tears in the
clothing, whether the blood was fresh or dry, or if there were any weapons
in sight. Blood still glistened on the car seat, the dashboard, even the cab
meter. It clung and hid in every crevice and crack of the driver's side. "Stine
bled profusely," wrote Toschi.
Meanwhile, Armstrong had the uniformed officers checking and rechecking
to see if any of the residents had seen or heard anything. Even when the two
inspectors were not together, they knew what the other was doing; they
avoid overlapping. Usually one man will opt to stay with the body, as did
Toschi this night. Toschi has a firm belief that it is the body that will tell
you almost all you need to know to solve a case.

Free hand, on a blank sheet of paper, the detective made a sketch of the
scene, noting the taxi and buildings and the relationship of the body to
them. Even photographs taken from every conceivable angle give a
distorted view of the body in respect to its surroundings, so he made exact
measurements with his steel tape and added these to the sketch.

When the coroner's office steward pulled the body out of the cab, Stine's
bloodied San Francisco street guide came with him

and fell into the street. The body was placed in a dark green-black plastic
body bag with a long zipper, and then carried to a stretcher. Photographs
were taken of anything that may have been underneath Stine.

Toschi bent forward.

Yes, there it was. Almost under the seat and toward the center post of the
cab gleamed the copper color of one 9-mm casing. On the corner of the
front passenger seat were three streaks that might have been the marks of
three fingers printed in blood Since Stine had fallen to the passenger side
palms up, Toschi thought they might belong to the kiDer.

Just under the dash, Toschi found a pair of dull-black leather gloves. They
were soaked with blood but were too small for a man. Later he discovered
that they belonged to a woman passenger from earlier in the day.

At 11:30, the crime lab responded, Bob Dagitz from San Rafad and Bill
Kirkindal from Pacifica. These were two of the department's best lab men.
Both were fingerprint experts. Dagitz and Kirkindal searched the interior of
Stine's cab for any latent prints the kiDer might have left behind.
Latent prints are those which are transferred to surfaces by the natural oils
of the hair and face that palms and fingers may have touched. The
perspiration from the hands is not hibricabve enough to leave impressions.
Unless a person has handled grease or dirt, these prints are invisible and
must be developed by dusting the surface with a gray or black powder.
Once a print is visible, it can be lifted by transparent tape and applied to a
three-by-five-inch card with a contrasting background.

The men marked the placement of latent prints, measured die distance of
the impressions from the floor and roof, and had the areas photographed by
men from the photo lab. Later, prints of all the people who may have ridden
in the cab that day, located through the taxi trip sheet, would have to be
taken and compared to any clear prints the lab could come up with. The
large majority of the prints would be fragmentary or superimposed.
Fingerprints of Stine would have to be taken; most likely they would
already be on file at Yellow Cab. A detailed inspection of the hands of

the victim would also be made for any cuts, bruises, or torn fingernails, as
well as an examination of the victim's hair.

Toschi had noticed two long dark marks on Stine's left hand. Perhaps he had
thrown up his hand to protect himself from the gun blast.

Then the two lab men discovered the most important clue in the Stine case:
the prints of a right hand. The prints had been made in blood. This
information and where the prints were found was to be kept totally
confidential.

The coroner authorized removal of the victim to the morgue, and Deputies
Schultz and Kindred took charge of the body.

Armstrong and Toschi had gotten a rather vague description of the killer
from the teenage witnesses, and now they widened the search. "Canvass the
area," said Toschi, "and look for anyone who matches this description: dark
jacket, crew-cut hair, big guy, kinda stocky, husky . . ."

Dog units began to check the surrounding blocks for anyone hiding in
doorways, driveways, or the shadows.
Toschi and Armstrong had made a painstaking search for more shells or
bullet holes and found none. The cartridge was labeled and identified with
extreme care so that it would not be mutilated in any way. Any recovered
spent slug is marked with the officer's special mark on the nose, never on
the side, so that the striations on the bullet are not disturbed. Custody of
exhibits of evidence are traced from the time of recovery so that a chain of
legal evidence can be maintained. The crime lab would need the fatal bullet,
fatal shell, any clothing of the victim containing powder burns, and, if
possible, the lethal weapon itself.

The Presidio, the present home of the Sixth Army, lies a block and one half
north of Cherry and Washington. The base is open around the clock, with
virtually no security and with very few restricted sections. The detectives
heard from neighbors that a stocky figure was seen dashing across Julius
Kahn Public Playground and into the dense undergrowth of the Presidio.
Toschi had die high-powered floodlights from the fire department moved
into place to illuminate the entire area. A large number of patrolmen began
to search tree by tree, shrub by shrub, flashlights

slashing lines into the night. In the distance voices called to each other.

Somewhere ahead they hoped their quarry was also pushing his way
through the scrub, trying to lose himself in the green expanse of the
Presidio. Somewhere ahead hiding in the darkness and silence they hoped
to find the killer of Paul Stine.

The dog-patrol units, seven of the best search dogs in the country, gathered
at the front entrance to the Presidio and were deployed one at a time in
various directions. For more than an hour the dogs moved with swift
determination, sniffing the thick undergrowth inside the walls.

Armstrong and Toschi considered the possibilities: Had the killer gone
quickly through the dark woods, emerged from the Presidio at Richardson
Avenue, taken Highway 101 past Fort Point onto the Golden Gate Bridge,
and vanished into Marin County? Could he have cut across Julius Kahn
Playground and doubled back southward to Jackson Street?
A call to Stine's boss at Yellow Cab, LeRoy Sweet, revealed that the driver's
last dispatch was 9:45 p.m., to 500 9th Avenue. When Stine did not show
up, the fare was assigned another cab. The meter of Stine's cab, still running
when he was found, read at exactly 10:46 p.m., $6.25. This indicated Stine
had picked up another fare, the killer, en route to the 9th Avenue
assignment.

Backtracking through the meter reading, Toschi could determine roughly

where the killer had flagged Stine down. The city's cabs in 1969 were
among the most expensive in the United States; for a two-mile trip Stine
would have charged $1.35.

"How had the slayer gotten to the theater district in the first place, and had
he gone back to get his car? Was it now parked in the large Downtown
Center Parking and Garage?" wondered Toschi.

At 1:00 a.m., the cab was towed across town, to the Hall of Justice,
followed by Dagitz and Kirkindal.

At 2:00 a.m., the search was called off. Armstrong and Toschi quit the
scene.

A killer had stalked the streets of this rich and elegant neighborhood and
then vanished into the fog.

Sunday, October 12, 1969

The police description of the

throughout the night and early inn i ng By tint time, the MPs

had ceased their search of the Presidio.

At 1 :?0 a.m., ten minutes after Stine's wife, Claudia, had been notified by
phone of his death, Dagitz and Kirkindal began their search of the cab at the
HaD of Justice impound room. Yeflow Cab #912, California license
Y17413, was gone over thoroi*Wy for more casing!, slugs, buflet holes, or
any other evidence.
Stine's body was the first to be autopsied that morning, at a little after 9:30
a.m.

The coroner's autopsy room, mflljf white and cold, is just behind the Hal of
Justice and three floors under Toachfs office. The bodies in the storage
room are kept on sloping metal tables in drawers, each with its own bus-
terminaMockeruke number. The 38*F stainless-steel refrigerated alcove is
next to the aut opsy room, which is kept at 60T Bleak flu oresce nt lighting
cook and boms out every shadow. The pathologists dress in green surgical
gowns and wear heavy household rubber gloves, the cuffs turned up.
Usually the chief medical examiner observes or p e rfo r ms the autopsy
himself. An autopsy report wiD contain, at the very least, the age, sex, race,
frame, and ch'it i ngi a ihiug characteristics of the victim. Signs of death
such as rigor mortis, heat loss, bvkfcty, and drrnwpfattrii, are registered. An
external examination of head and trunk and internal scrutiny of the organ
systems, stomach contents, neck, spinal cord, bead, maior vessels, and heart
is made. A red manilla tag with a wire looped through one end is twilled
around the right big toe of the cadaver.

Before the blood and grime are removed, close-up photos are made of the
dead bod?' fully dothed, under the guidance of the pathologist Any material
from the wound is saved for powder granule tests: In order to rule out every
possible contributing cause of death, an entire autopsy is done even if the
body canty is not penetrated "Penetrating" is a term used to indicate an
object entering the body but not exiting. When the body is both entered and
exited, it is called "perforating.**

The autopsy surgeon examined the wound in Stine's head. It was a jagged,
star-shaped tear. Gunpowder and soot had created a pocket between the skin
and the skull, which had been blackened by the tremendous heat. Charring
converged from the outside of the wound toward its center. The "tattooing/'
embedded powder particles, in the skin adjacent to the ragged wound had
been caused by the flare and expanding gases. Both the smudging on Stine's
temple and the large, singed wound indicated to the surgeon that the muzzle
of the gun had been held in close contact. In such a shooting, the wound of
exit is much smaller than the wound of entrance, unlike a non-contact
wound in which the reverse is true. In the cabdriver's case, the bullet did not
exit but lodged.

Post-mortem lividity, a purplish discoloration of the parts of the body

nearest the floor, occurs about two hours after death. This gives an
indication of how much time has passed since death occurred. The muscles
around Stine's head, neck, jaw, and eyelids had begun to stiffen, the
beginning of rigor mortis. It would be two to three days before the rigidity
would start to disappear.

While the autopsy was being performed, the police questioned the teenaged
witnesses and prepared a composite sketch with a policeman who doubled
as an artist. He laid out his ebony pencil, eraser stick, and sixteen-pound
Strathmore layout bond.

Tom Macris, the best police artist in the state, once told me, "You've got to
tell the witness to believe in himself and in the infinite capacity of the mind
to retain details. You conduct a guided interview. You get a feel for the
person, their mental range, their free-floating imagery." Like Macris, this
artist worked from feeling and intuition. Also like most composite artists,
he kept a library of pictures, people with different-shaped faces and
hairstyles. The witnesses look through the photos until they find one similar
to the suspect. This gives the artist a foundation on which to build. The
police artist was doing his drawing full face because that is the way that
mug shots are taken and the composite thus can be more easily compared to
them. Homicide descriptions are usually the most difficult:

"He had a stocky build," the teenagers agreed, "looked like he was about
five foot eight inches tall. He was wearing a dark navy-blue or black parka-
type jacket and dark trousers."

"What was the shape of the man's head?" asked the artist. "Triangular?
Round? Square? Is it like any of these?"

After a half hour, the artist showed the uncompleted sketch to the teenagers
and allowed them to look over his shoulder while he was working, letting
them help correct and define.
"How about the forehead? The eyes? nose? Large cars? Color of hair? Long
or short hair?

"Did you notice if the man had any scars? Is the nose anything like the one
I've drawn? Is this close? O.K. Is there anything I should change? Did I
make the eyes far enough apart? Have I made him old enough?"

The teenagers had described a white male with reddish or blond crew-cut
hair, around twenty-five or thirty yean of age, wearing glasses.

Armstrong and Toschi decided to circulate the resulting composite drawing,

Bulletin #87-69. They sent one to each cab company in the city. The
detectives wanted to alert the taxi driven that a pattern of cabdriver killings
might be developing. Each company got a hundred copies of a wanted
circular that described the killer's method of operation:

Suspect takes cab in downtown area at 9:30 p.m. and sits in front seat with
driver.

Tells driver destination is Washington and Laurel area or area near Park or
Presidio. Upon reaching destination, suspect orders driver to continue on at
gunpoint into or near Park, where he then perpetrates robbery.

In one case victim was shot in head at contact.

The weapon was a 9-mm automatic.

Armstrong and Toschi wanted any driver who saw anyone resembling die
sketch to get in touch with them. Unknown to

95

both detectives, they did have other witnesses: the two policemen in the
radio car who had actually spoken to the killer and been directed on a wild-
goose chase.

At this time colorful and soft-spoken Dave Toschi was probably the most
dynamic member of the police department's elite corps, the homicide
inspectors. He was the city's "Supercop."
A flamboyant dresser, the stylish detective could be found at work in a
short-sleeve silk shirt, corduroy jacket, dark brown ankle boob, with large
brass buckles, and his ever-present large bowtie. Toschi's shoulder holster, a
unique upside-down, quick-draw model, is worn on his left, with a vertical
refill row of seven cartridges and a pair of handcuffs. The gun is a .38-
caliber Cobra, one of the six variations of the solid-frame .38 Special, with
a swing-out cylinder, and is made of aluminum alloy. It's a double/ single
action revolver weighing just over a pound and measuring seven inches in
overall length. Steve McQueen met with Toschi before the filming of his
1968 movie Bullitt, which was set in San Francisco. McQueen had a
duplicate of Toschi's special holster and gun made up and based much of
the character on the Italian, Marina-born sleuth.

Toschi was a compact, muscular man with dark eyes, strong bow-shaped
mouth, and cleft chin, all dominated by abundant curly black hair. Over the
yean he had tried not to bring his case problems home with him. But when
the solutions remained elusive, and haunted him, he would drive the length
of the Great Highway or take midnight strolls through his Sunset district
neighborhood.

And sometimes after a particularly tough day Toschi would come home to
Carol and his three pre-teen daughters, and lounge in his big brown leather
easychair, put a Big Band record on the stereo, usually Artie Shaw's
Greatest //its, and sip a Manhattan while singing along as he'd done at
Galileo High and when he was a California Street bartender. He had
considered music as a career.

He became a cop instead.

Toschi's senior partner was Bill Armstrong. Tall and hand-

some, reminiscent of Paul Drake on the old Perry Mason television show,
the forty-year-old Armstrong had sharp features and a strong jaw, his face
framed by a curly brush of silver hair and the glasses he sometimes wears.
His tasteful business suits and short hair are a contrast to the darker,
slimmer Toschi. Armstrong was also the father of three girls and tried not to
bring his case load home with him.
Lately, this had been pretty hard to achieve.

Stine's blood-stained clothing had been removed, an identification tag wire

put on each article, and placed under a drying lamp. When his clothes had
dried completely, they were laid flat, with butcher paper between each
article to avoid the possibility of any sort of transfer. The clothing was
listed on a clothing slip and turned into the property clerk's office to be
safeguarded for future lab tests. No piece of apparel is disposed of until the
case is terminated. All articles in the pockets are catalogued.

The body is placed on the autopsy table and the surgeon dictates as he
examines. The upper half of the sloped metal table on which the body rests
has a grated surface: at the foot is a shallow sloping tub that runs beneath
the grating. Through the tub streams a continuous flow of water. The arms
of the body are at the sides, a wooden block under the shoulder blades
thrusts the chest upward and causes the head to fall back. Suspended from
the ceiling is a microphone that records every step as dictated by the
pathologist, including an accurate description and location of all wounds.

The necropsy surgeon dictated to the coroner, John Lee:

The body is that of a well-developed, well-nourished young adult white

male appearing about the stated age. The head is symmetrical and covered
with a sparse quantity of dark hair receding at the temples.

There is a large, ragged, irregular-shaped apparent gunshot entry wound

over the right side of the head. This wound is located at the superior and
anterior attachment of the right ear. The vertical dimensions measure four
cm. and transverse dimensions measure two cm.

There is a blackening of the skin over the ventral aspect of this wound,
extending for a distance of two cm. When probed, the wound penetrates left
laterally toward the midportion of the left zygomatic arch. There is a large
quantity of blood present over the face.

The murdered man's wound was removed and examined microscopically

for powder residue. The pathologist made notes on preprinted schematic
drawings of a male body, shown front and back, with the head shown from
above.

In an autopsy a Y-shaped incision is made in the chest and abdomen. A

triangular portion of the rib cage is removed. When the throat and neck
have been examined, the autopsy surgeon removes the heart and lungs,
ligating the large blood vessels. The kidneys, pancreas, liver, spleen, and
intestinal tract are taken from the abdominal cavity after the heart has been
examined, and dissected on a black dissection board. A sample of blood is
taken and blood type is established. Finally, the pelvic contents and
genitalia are reviewed.

The cerebellum is fixed by an injection of formaldehyde and the pathologist

opens the skull with an electric circular saw, carefully avoiding penetration
of the brain. The top is pried off, cranial membrane still clinging. Before the
brain is scooped out intact and weighed on a white metal scale, the interior
surface of the top of the skull and brain is studied. The brain is then
segmented to see if any abnormalities are present.

Then it is up to the attendant to reassemble the form by replacing viscera

and organs and putting back in place the triangular piece of rib cage. He
stitches up the Y-shaped incision, working from the pubis to midchest. The
body is then washed with water and sponged, covered with a black rubber
sheet, and returned to its mortuary compartment.

Whenever a physician has to extract a bullet from a body he must use

caution, since the impressions of the gun barrel on the bullet link it to the
weapon from which it was fired. In most cases, the surgeon scratches his
identifying mark on the bullet's nose.

In Stines instance, a smashed and fragmented copper-jacketed lead bullet

was removed. The four fragments of metal were placed

in a glassine envelope, which was then sealed and signed by the pathologist.
The sealed flap of the envelope also included the location of the found
bullet.
Diagnosis: Gunshot wound of skin and subcutaneous tissue, wound of head.
Cause of death: Gunshot wound of the brain.

Stine's cab, impounded in a double-locked room, would be gone over by lab

technicians for another two days. The only blood found in the cab was type
O-RH Negative, Stine's Woodtype.

Stine would have been thirty in sixty-nine days. He had been attending San
Francisco State College and working the night shift for Yellow Cab to pay
for his education. He even sold insurance. In January he had planned to
complete his post-graduate work for a doctorate in English. He had worked
as a reporter for his high school papeT and later for the Turlock Journal. A
powerful man, with a solid 180 pounds spread over a five-foot-nine-inch
frame, Stine had lived with his wife in an old green Victorian house divided
into multiple apartments at 1842 Fell Street, across from the long, verdant
panhandle leading into Golden Gate Park. The couple had no children.

Approximately five weeks earlier Stine had been held up by two gunmen.
Twelve days before his murder, on a Tuesday night, another Yellow Cab
driver was held up. Could this have been a dry run for the actual killing?

Monday, October 13, 1969

At 9:00 a.m. Stine's file prints were sent over to homicide and compared to
the visible prints found in the cab. The bloody prints were not Stine's.

Fingerprints are divided into general types: plain arches, tented arches,
plain loops, plain whorls, central pocket loop whorls, radial whorls, double
loop whorls, accidental whorls. The fine lines on the fingerprints are called
"ridges" and the spaces between are

known as "furrows." The average print has about fifty ridge characteristics.
The design formed by the ridges is called "patterns." Partial prints often
contain twelve characteristic points, but in the case of fragmentary prints
they most often can not be positively matched. Anything less than twelve
points of similarity would be subject to an expert's "opinion."
Toschi and Armstrong, using the cab trip sheet, went back to the addresses
where the passeng e rs were left off, knocked on a lot of doors, and located
about a third of the people who had ridden in that particular cab on
Saturday. Later on in the day a member of the crime lab would come out to
roll a set of their prints to eliminate them positively as murder suspects.

In the crime lab, print man Bob Dagitz classified the visible prints found in
the cab. When die killer had leaned forward to wipe the driver's dashboard
area, he had held onto the beam separating the front and rear windows and
left prints from his right hand.

"Middle finger and third finger of right hand," Dagitz wrote. "8 points on 2
fingers. In blood."

Zodiac

Tuesday, October 14, 1969

At 10:30 a.m., at the Chronicle, Letters Editor Carol Fisher had just
returned from a long vacation out of the country. She shared a small office
on the third floor with the two editorial writers. While the writers, the
publisher, and I were in the editorial conference, she would go through the
pile of mail that readers showered upon the paper every day. One letter was
addressed in blue felt-tip:

S.F. Chronicle

San Fran

Calif.

Please Rush to Editor

Please Rush to Editor

The postmark showed the letter had been mailed the previous day and from
San Francisco. The return address had been replaced by a symbol.

A crossed circle.
Carefully, Carol slit open the envelope and withdrew a folded letter. As she
opened it, a three-by-five-inch piece of gray-and-white cloth, neatly torn,
not cut, and spattered with blood, fluttered out onto her desk.

Zodiac had written his fifth letter.

Quickly she scanned the thin blue lines:

This is the Zodiac speaking I am the murderer of the taxi driver over by
Washington St & Maple St last night, to prove this here is a blood stained
piece of his shirt. I am the same man who did in the people in the north bay
area.

The S.F. Police could have caught me last night if they had searched the
park properly instead of holding road races with their motorcicles seeing
who could make the most noise. The car driven should have just parked
their can & sat there quietly waiting for me to come out of cover.

The letter closed with an incredibly chilling threat. (Though the first portion
of this letter has been reproduced before, this is the first time the entire
letter has been shown.)

School children make nice targets, I think I shall wipe out a school bus
some morning. Just shoot out the front tire & then pick off the kiddies as
they come bouncing out.

Carol, holding the letter by two fingers, alerted us and raced to the city
desk. "I just got this thing in the mail." The city desk immediately
telephoned the S.F.P.D. homicide detail.

The letter was first Xeroxed and photographed. We all crowded around to
read it while reporter Peter Stack, who was working as a relief for Bob
Popp, the regular man at the Hall of Justice, brought the letter and bloody
cloth over to Toschi and Armstrong at their office. "I don't know if this has
any merits," said Stack. "We got this letter and my boss said to bring it over
to you guys and see if it means anything."

Toschi looked up from his desk.

"It's kind of dirty," said Stack. "There's a kind of bloody piece of cloth or
shirt." He dropped it on the blotter in front of Toschi and Armstrong.

Toschi saw the fabric and remembered it from Saturday night. "Jesus
Christ!" he said. 'This looks like Stine's shirt! Bill, I think this is Stine's
shirt!"

Armstrong turned to Stack. "We're going to bring this shirt down to the
coroner's office. Stine's clothing is being held there."

The detectives had to know how many people had touched the letter and
asked Stack to see if he would find out. Before Toschi and Armstrong went
down to the coroner's office, they stopped at Chief of Inspectors Marty
Lee's office and asked to see him as soon as possible. "We've got something
going here," said Toschi.

When they were finally ushered into Lee's office, Armstrong pulled the
letter out of its glassine envelope and laid it very carefully on the Chief of
Inspector's desk.

"I think we're involved in a heavy case," said Toschi. "I think we're
involved with a mass murderer. I think San Francisco is involved. Stack
from the Chronicle hand carried it over."

"Has this been printed yet?" said Lee, glancing at it without touching it.

"No," said Armstrong.

"I'd better tell the Chief about this," said Lee, reaching for the phone.

Armstrong and Toschi dropped the letter at the photo lab

to have some eight-by-tens made. The crime lab would now make an
attempt to bring out any latent prints on the letter. Paper is always the worst
surface to work from. Not only is the surface difficult, but most professional
criminals wear gloves or put airplane glue, nail polish, or collodion on their
fingertips.
Dagitz, the print man, sprayed Zodiac's letter with a highly toxic purplish
chemical solution called Ninhydrin. This distorts all printing and turns the
paper purple. The chemical reacts on the sweat and amino acids left by the
fingers on the paper's surface. Both sides of the Zodiac letter were sprayed
and then brought next door to the print-lab darkroom. The letter was placed
on a shelf and left to develop. The entire process took from three to four
hours.

On the main floor annex, Toschi and Armstrong saw the coroner, Dr. Henry
Turkel, who got all of Stine's clothing out of the property clerk's office.
They went back upstairs and told Lee that the cloth enclosed with the letter
had come from the left lower portion of Stine's shirt.

San Francisco was definitely involved.

Their next step was to compare the printing on the Zodiac letter with
printing on other letters Zodiac had sent to the press.

Captain Townsend of Napa agreed to meet with Toschi and Armstrong at

his office with his investigator. They also called the Solano County Sheriffs
Office, since all of them would probably be working together. Armstrong
and Toschi felt stunned. They were involved with an insane killer, one who
so far had left five victims dead and two wounded.

Later in the day, Toschi called Paul Avery, the Chronicle reporter who had
been following the Zodiac case so far. "With the matching of the shirt," said
Toschi, "we're pretty definitely up to our ears in the Zodiac murders."

That night Armstrong and Toschi drove to Napa to talk to Townsend and
Detective Sergeant Narlow. He agreed that the printing on the letter to the
Chronicle matched the previous Zodiac printing.

104

Toschi and Armstrong drove to Sacramento to show the actual letter to the
head of Questioned Documents for the state, Sherwood Mom'D. Even after
being chemically treated, an original letter is always better than a copy in
making comparisons. Morrill found that the letter matched in every way the
earlier communications from the killer.

Zodiac used a bizarre mixture of cursive letters and printing. The killer
always used an r that was so small it looked like a checkmark and a cursive
d that seemed about to fall over.

"If this guy keeps this up," said Morrill, "hell probably concentrate on
writing to your department. If he's an ego-nut he'll stay with the larger
circulation newspapers."

Toschi looked down at the headlines for that morning's Chronicle: 'The
Boastful 'Slayer' Letter Claims Writer Killed Cabbie, 4 Others." The paper
reprinted the composite sketch and ran the top half of the Zodiac letter.

At police request, the threat at the end of the letter was withheld while
authorities tried to figure out the best way to handle it.

Friday, October 17, 1969

Publication of Zodiac's threat was finally allowed. The public reacted with
panic. There was a flurry of television, radio, wire service, and newspaper
reports. An emergency bulletin was issued to police, county, and city school
superintendents:

To all law enforcement agencies.

A San Francisco cabbie was murdered by an

unknown psychotic . . . who has threatened to

"wipe out a school bus

then pick off the kiddies as

they come bouncing out."

105
Advice to school bus drivers on how to handle any sort of violent attack on
buses followed:

1. Continue driving the bus on a flat tire. Do not stop.

2. Tell the children to get below the level of the window and lie on the floor.

3. The driver will continue driving and turn on all lights and sound the horn.

4. The school bus shall not be stopped until arriving in a well-populated

area.

5. Upon arrival at this location a local law enforcement agency should be

notified immediately.

The Napa Valley Unified School District called in all ninety of their full-
time and part-time drivers. The drivers were told that "the driver would be
the first target in Zodiac's gunsight if there was an attack on the bus." An
extra man, a watcher, was assigned to each bus to take over in case of a
sniper attack. State law requires that when a school bus driver leaves the
bus to escort the children across the street, he must pocket the ignition key.
Because of the threat, the driver would leave the key with the back-up
driver, who would stay with the busload of children. If the driver were shot,
the second driver was to drive away as fast as possible and as far as
possible. "Remember," they were told, "attract as much attention as possible
by sounding the horn, flashing lights, and erratic driving."

Ten thousand school children in twenty-eight schools rode Napa County's

sixty-five yellow-striped buses. The buses traveled four thousand miles,
round trip, in a day, much of it around dangerous curves and through blind
intersections. In some places the country roads are completely deserted,
with as much as two miles separating houses. Toschi could imagine a
busload of screaming children careening down an empty gravel road, past
orchards and vineyards, horn shrieking, lights furiously flashing, the driver
badly wounded behind the wheel. Or perhaps a bus rendered motionless,
with Zodiac methodically shooting out each

of the tires of its eight wheels and then firing at the forty students inside.
In reaction to the bulletin, seventy units of heavily armed policemen began
to ride guard on the Napa school buses. Napa Sheriff's Department and St.
Helena P.D. and the Highway Patrol were assigned to guard the children on
the buses. Pickup trucks from the forestry department and ranger stations at
Lake Berryessa were put into service as well. They were told to follow the
buses and to stay one hundred yards behind. Cessna aircraft from the Napa
Aero Club and the Sheriff's Department in air patrol planes flew cover over
the hundreds of miles of school bus routes. Napa school officials said,
"How can you overreact to a threat like that? We are worrying as to whether
we've done enough. If a madman could get to President Kennedy, with all
the protection he had, then it could happen in Napa even with all we've
done."

Because of a bomb threat received in Santa Rosa by a caller who hinted that
he might be the Zodiac, a careful check for bombs was made in the morning
before the route was begun.

The panic in Napa was no greater than that felt at the Hall of Justice in San
Francisco.

At 9:00 a.m., October 16, Foukes and Zelms, the two radio men who had
seen the stocky man walking into the Presidio, realized that they must have
passed the killer. They filed an initial report with their captain; this was sent
as an interdepartmental communication to Armstrong and Toschi. The two
patrolmen were "shattered and filled with despair."

With the help of the two patrolmen, a second composite drawing of Zodiac
was made. The amended drawing now showed a man thirty-five to forty-
five years old, with a thicker jaw. He weighed two hundred pounds or more,
was barrel-chested, and wore a navy blue or black waist-length zippered
jacket. He was noted as being about five feet eight or nine, with reddish-
brown, crew-cut hair, and wearing heavy rimmed glasses.

The patrolmen's report and statement were placed in confidential files;

S.F.P.D. officially denied that Zodiac had ever been seen

by any policemen. The denial stands to this day. Several sources have told
me, "Zodiac had undoubtedly been almost captured by the S.F. Police." The
police have never been able to explain why a second composite drawing
suddenly had to be made.

In the offices of the Palo Alto Times, a man had phoned the news desk and
claimed, 'This is the Zodiac. I had to leave San Francisco because I'm too
hot there." The Palo Alto police chief called the anonymous telephone
message "extremely serious." It may have been only a crank call, but he
preferred to take no chances and got in touch with the district transportation
supervisor. Between them, they arranged to have an armed guard ride with
each of the system's twenty-five buses.

In almost all Northern California communities, some sort of police

protection was provided. In San Francisco, plainclothes-men in twenty-four
unmarked cars watched the buses. More than one hundred police vehicles
were alerted.

"The interval between attacks has gotten frighteningly short," Armstrong

said to the press. "It could come any day. God, I'd hate to speculate."

Zoduc $ route the night of July 4. 1969. when he followed and attacked
DaHene Fcmn and Michad Mageau Mso sho»n is the site of the fensen-
Faradav murder* Map by R Gravsmith

'*^
'**** ^^«. *;^

*<<** *^+' :* n *~~ ~>>*

******* -^~,

^ Jf./X

*** * +»

<***

*****,* **

7 >w ^ . - r ***** * m s*>*+ ,^

Zodiac's first letter to the San Francisco Chronicle, August 1, 1969. This
letter has never before been reproduced.

C/pJ»+*~ »«* y+*f •7*-»*v f>+ T + ^

/rttf +-*~*^p*pr J^rr ~r+*- •*-<*>-JTmrJ// tf.*"-y-r ~^~**f +~~S ^*c+

"?^ **+>• ~~~* „*// r /*~r

Threat from letter to the Valleio runts-Herald, August 1, 1969. The

Chronicle's letter was phrased slightly differently

TO THE VALLEJO TIMES-HERALD

TO THE SAN FRANCISCO EXAMINER

TO THE SAN Ft ANdSCO CHtONrCU

The solution to the three-part cipher as decoded by the Hardens

****** J A~r* >W ,~ K*SS<ryt>,

****/>/>/y 4*es0*~ **^<*rr> ***~ ***~, ^.y+

+&**? &.// fa**** w*$^m m The J**j> **^9 ^^p^^^r S ****>;? *a

*<* /f +F> >*• ***< dbmr** J;****-* **4>**~.

The first page of the killer's three-page letter to the Vallejo Times-Herald on
August 7, 1969. This is the first time he used the name "Zodiac " This letter
has never before been reproduced.
Author's illustration of Zodiac in full costume at Lake Ber ry ess a on
September 27, 1969, from Bryan Hartnell's description.
Above: The path Zodiac took at Lake Befryessa, September 27, 1969,
when, wearing a garish costume, he stabbed Bryan Hartnell and Cecelia
Shepard. Map by R. Graysmith.

Left: Composite sketch done by Robert McKenzie for the Napa police
showing suspicious man seen at Lake Berryessa the day of the stabbing
attack. The sketch had limited circulation, and may never have been printed
—it certainly wasn't in San Francisco.
Above: Zodiac's writing in black felt-tip pen on Bryan Hartnells Karmann
Chia after the stabbing.

Below: Map of the October 11, 1969, Stine killing in San Francisco. Map
by R. Graysmith.

THE PRESIDIO

JULIUS KAHN PLAYGROUND

ZODIAC STOPPED BY PATROL CAR

PAUL STINE S

Zodiac's October 13, 1969, letter to the San Francisco Chronicle, in which
he enclosed a bloody scrap of Paul Stine's shirt

V-» 5 y fc*-**^ &/- £& /<pSsly rTTtr.^S' *~ + ^ + s

&

v ^ -+/,&,* srvtr^^ ^s^S+s X*+r&jL* ^4,

& Server A*s J-m+rs €• +*+->**■*,/— . J £** +

WANTED
SAN FRANCISCO POLICE DEPARTMENT

HAMTED TOR KFPCR

OCTOBER 18, 1969

4^

%^

?mr^%

ORIGINAL DRABINC ABINDED DRAWING

".JUiilTitlnp our Bullatin 87-69 of Octobar 13, 1969. Additional inforaation

naa dovalopad tha abova uwnded drying of nurdar MMpKt known aa
"ZODIAC".

■BA, 35-45 Yaara, approxiaataly 5«8", rtaavy Build, Short Brow Hair,
poaaibly aith Rod Tint, aaara CIumi. Araad ■lth 9 M Autoaatic.

Available for coapariaont Sluga, Caalnga, Latanta, Handwriting.

»WY ?firoR«ATigw,

Inapactora Araatrong 4 Toachi Hoaieida Datail CASC NO. 696314

THOBAS J. CAHILL CHIEF OF POLICE

Zodiac's second wanted poster, amended to reflect the more detailed

description given S.F.P.D. by the two radio car patrolmen.

Sorry I haven't written,

but I just washed my pen...

Above: Greeting card envelope, overposted by Zodiac as usual.

Front portion of Zodiac's November 8, 1969, greeting card to the San

Francisco Chronicle.

3*7

'"'d *" "~>fv

Inside of the November 8 "dripping pen" greeting card.

H E R > * N <* + e ^ B X I S M

DAM+"f 11R/\F ll+KP <P 6 • J 1 0 < M ♦ 8 -+J U V

U+R/•

a<ojR

+ © A S X JSFNA X B X * ■ I D • ♦

R3T+L
IFX0W

>MDHN

JAV

■oa

• u * JAB JL T 0 J O -0X9 X ■ O + Z R + * J J. E I T I V

■+N1••

•K♦

••C

<41 9X S

p*

0w&w

V9

1•

B0

u o •¥ a

•p

4O

oy

•TI•

•acc
<♦

F o BO

+F>

i©u/<

♦ ■•■ L ^ O + F P + CJF X 6 V • •*/•♦ + B D X *

* 4 < F BUT

• H • +■ F B D ♦

•DV•>VUX

r j wb

5 M T/

ron

0441

6 © a k ■* -e-

+HJ

RK•

• 31 /

•D$+LI

D L A O • K B X -M K 0 P B F I4R -L+ +

•-♦
-CD

KI+

The 340-symbol cipher received by Inspector Toschi on November 8, 1969

^*« fdrc* sA+S /*#*"»- <:+*-+ 4 *p* r^

L±

j£_JL

Part of Zodiac's seven-page letter of November 9, 1969, to the Chronicle, in

which he "changes his way of collecting slaves."
The diagram for the school bus bomb from the November 9 letter.

Zodiac

Saturday, October 18, 1969

Captain Marty Lee assigned a ten-man team to the Stine case and braced
himself for a long, arduous investigation in the search for Zodiac. Lee knew
they would have to learn something about the astrology angle somewhere
along the line. He made a note to consult with various astrologers. Lee also
planned to meet with authorities from Napa and Vallejo. Apprehensive
about another attack, Lee had been the man behind the issuance of the all-
points bulletin to the school bus drivers of the three counties. He was also
convinced that Zodiac knew Presidio Heights well enough to know it would
be almost devoid of automobile traffic at 10:00 pm.

When he spoke to the press, Lee categorized Zodiac as a liar. "His boast of
being in the area while we were searching it is a lie. We had the whole area
flooded with lights. We had seven police dogs and a large number of
patrolmen searching the area tree by tree and bush by bush. The dogs are
the best in the country. A mouse couldn't have escaped our attention. The
fact that Zodiac failed to mention dogs and floodlights proves he wasn't
anywhere in the vicinity."

By mail and phone, literally a thousand tips flooded into

S.F.P.D. from alarmed citizens. The detectives began to sort out the
communications that fingered neighbors, fellow employees, and ex-
husbands as possible Zodiacs. The police switchboard was inundated with
calls. Lee tripled the usual weekend force, who took turns answering
phones.

Vallejo Police Captain Wade Bird, who had been looking for Zodiac since
July, had his own theories. "I think hell prove to be a genius who got so far
out he went over the edge. He may or may not be a local man. Many—no,
thousands—of people lived here during the war and came to know the area,
then moved away. He did know about our lovers' lanes, though. They
weren't very far apart. Some say he is a commuter; that he commits these
murders, then mails letters about them from work in San Francisco. I don't
think so. I don't believe a man this disturbed could hold down a steady,
regular job. He's too far gone for that."

Dr. Leonti Thompson, a Napa State psychiatrist, told the press that "for
some psychotics, the act of killing is a denial of . . . helplessness. Psychosis
is the gradual blotting out of the ego, a terrifying loss of one's own image of
oneself. He does things, busily, fiercely and then lapses again. Among
psychotics, schizophrenics of the paranoid type are usually secretive and
guarded in their dealings with the world. They can deal relatively well with
the outside world and at the same time carry around their private visions of
what the world is really like."

In Napa, UndersheriflF Tom Johnson was swamped by hundreds of leads

and yet still had not been able to shape them into the image of one solid
suspect. "There's no one we want more/' Johnson said. "We're not going to
let up; he's our top priority."

And yet there was in the air the overriding fear that Zodiac would kill again.
And soon.

Sunday, October 19, 1969

State Attorney General Thomas C. Lynch issued an entreaty to Zodiac to

turn himself in. At the same time, he quietly called for a seminar on the
killer, to include representatives of various juris-

dictions so they could exchange information about the earlier killings.

"We will see that he gets help and that all of his rights are protected," Lynch
said in his appeal. "He is obviously an intelligent individual. He knows that
eventually he will be taken into custody, so it would be best that he give
himself up before tragedy is written in blood."

The plea for surrender went unanswered.

Sunday's Examiner issued its own plea to the killer. Their message ran
across the top of page one:

Five people are dead. Let there be no more killings. Police say you are
intelligent. If you are, then listen to reason. You are being hunted
everywhere in the state and nation. You are alone in this world. You can
share your secrets with no one. No friend can help you.

You are as much a victim of your crimes as those whose lives you snuffed
out. You cannot walk the streets a free man. There i$ no safety for you
anywhere. And you will be caught, there is no doubt. You face life as a
hunted, tormented animal—unless you help yourself. We ask that you give
yourself up, to The Examiner.

We offer you no protection, and no sympathy. But we do offer you fair

treatment, the assurance of medical help and the full benefits of your legal
rights.

And we offer to tell your story.

Why have you killed? How has life wronged you? Call the City Editor of
The Examiner, any time, day or night.

The telephone number is (415) 781-2424. Call collect.

Your call will not be traced.

Zodiac not only ignored this entreaty, but never again wrote to the
Examiner. Evidently he found their approach insulting.

Monday, October 20, 1969

Nine days after Paul Stine's murder, a Zodiac seminar was convened in San
Francisco at the Hall of Justice. Armstrong and Toschi attended, and the
sheriff's and police departments of

Napa, Solano, Benicia, Vallcjo, San Mateo, and Marin sent investigators.
The F.B.I, and Naval Intelligence were present, as well as U.S. Postal
Inspectors, the Highway Patrol, and the State Bureau of Criminal
Identification and Investigation (CI&I). Napa had asked the state to send
one of its agents, and CI&I had provided handwriting experts and arranged
for the use of the criminal lab in Sacramento. Attorney General Lynch was
still in Colorado attending a meeting of attorneys general of western states
and was represented by his number-two man, Arlo Smith.

A large blackboard stood in front of the room. Etched in white chalk on the
ebony surface was a large crossed circle—the sign of the Zodiac. One by
one the crime scenes were drawn and erased as the detectives exchanged
the small scraps of information.
The 9-mm semiautomatic pistol Zodiac had used to murder Stine was
relatively rare: only 143 guns of this type had been sold in the Bay Area in
the last three years. Toschi's theory was that the 9-mm gun used in the
cabdriver's murder was probably a new model Browning, and odds were
that it was different from the 9-mm used by Zodiac in the past.

Until the letter to the Chronicle, Toschi had investigated the Stine killing as
just another big city stick-up. Probably this was what the killer had wanted
the police to think. But there was also the possibility that Stine had been
chosen for a reason and was not just a random victim.

The most difficult homicide to solve for even an experienced homicide

team like Toschi and Armstrong is a holdup and murder of a cabdriver in
his cab. Usually the murderer gets the driver to a deserted spot, under the
cover of darkness. Most slayings of this type are gun shots to the head, and
most are contact wounds. Therefore, no one even hears the report of the
gun.

Toschi had learned over the years there is seldom if any physical evidence
in the cab. Usually all an assailant will touch is the inner door handle to
close the door as he gets in or as he is leaving. All you get are smudge
prints, unusable.

Or you get just the opposite. There might be five good usable sets of prints
in the cab and on the door posts or the side minor,

112

mostly left by prior riders or cab company employees.

"In the killing of a cabbie," Toschi told me, "it's either feast or famine At
least in a grocery store slaving the suspect will usually buy or pick up a can
of Coke or beer or a box of cookies, a bottle of booze which wiD leave
latent prints. Sometimes in an' effort to grab every last penny out of the cash
register the suspect wiD leave a nice area of prints or even touch the
counter. In most cabdriver murders the physical evidence vs minimal.

"What you reaDy need is a lot of hard work," Toschi told me, "and lock.
In VaDejo later I asked Detective Sergeant Mulanax, who had taken over
the Ferrin case, about the cab print.

"So they have a latent print," aid Mulanax. "It's my own personal opinion
there's a lot of doubt this could be a Zodiac print. You dust a cab you're
going to lift some latent* off it. Doesn't necessarily mean it's the guy that
did the job."

The lab men's investigation had proven that no more than one shot had been
fired in Stine's cab. Except for the one 9-mm casing found on the floorboard
next to the body, no other bullet hole and no other slug were found.

Through Stine's employers and co-workers, Toschi discovered that the

cabbie kept his cab fares either in his wallet or in his pocket, but generally
in his pocket. Stine's wife claimed he had only three or four dollars of his
own money when he left home for work He normally kept his fare money
and tip money all together and would separate it at the end of the shift.

Captain Lee had made certain that the seminar was a meeting of police
professionals only. No psychics, mystics, or astrologists were in attendance,
as they sometimes were

"I couldn't say we're any closer to catching the suspect," he said at the end
of the three-hour session.

At the seminar's end, the detectives took note that aO of the Zodiac murders
had occurred on weekends

Now would come the back-breaking questioning of gun dealers all over
California. In an attempt to match up the handwriting, signatures on gun
registration forms would be compared with the

Zodiac letters received so far. New federal gun laws had taken effect earlier
that year, but up until then many foreign-made models could be bought
through the mail from dozens of outlets that advertised in men's magazines.
Perhaps Zodiac had a reason for using a weapon only once.
Meanwhile, in Napa armed guards and volunteers, off-duty teachers,
drivers, and firemen, continued to ride the school buses.

Wednesday, October 22, 1969

It was 2:00 a.m. when the phone rang at the Oakland P.D. call room. The
police operator picked up the phone and stiffened as a male voice said:
"This is the Zodiac speaking.

"I want you to get in touch with F. Lee Bailey If you can't

come up with Bailey Til settle for Mel Belli. ... I want one or the other to
appear on the Channel Seven talk show. Til make contact by telephone."

If there was anyone as colorful as attorney F. Lee Bailey, the Boston

Strangler's lawyer, it was Melvin Belli, "the King of Torts." Silver-tongued,
silver-haired Belli moved in a world of glamour and opulence. Shaken by
the call, Oakland got in touch with Marty Lee, and Lee, in turn, with Toschi
and Armstrong. Within two hours, Lee phoned Belli at his penthouse at
1228 Montgomery Street, on Telegraph Hill. Belli readily agreed to appear.
Arrangements were made with the show's host, Jim Dunbar, for Belli to be
on the two-hour program that morning. Dunbar's viewers are invited to call
in and discuss the topic of the day, but this particular morning he asked his
fans to leave the lines open so that the killer could reach Belli.

Although the show usually started at 7:00 a.m., it began a half hour early
that day. Belli and Dunbar sat and faced each other for a period of small talk
and soap commercials.

Like thousands of others, I watched the KCO talk show. I wondered if I

would finally hear the voice of the Zodiac killer.

At 7:10, the phone finally rang.

It was during a commercial, and the caller hung up almost

immediately. The man had a hesitant and drifting voice.

The next call came at 7:20.

The following conversations are verbatim.

Emotionally, Belli, in his best courtroom fashion, begged the self-styled

Zodiac In give him a name less ominous.

"Sam," said the young-sounding voice on the other end of the line.

"How and where can we meet you?" Belli asked him.

"Meet me on top of the Fairmont Hotel," he said. He paused. "Without

anyone else or 111 jump!"

Sam hung up, called again, and continued the abrupt conversations for over
two hours. Twelve calls were actually heard on the air, out of a total of
thirty-five calls made by "Sam." The longest was nine minutes.

"Do you think you need medical care?" asked Belli.

"Yes," answered Sam. "Medical, not mental."

"Do you have a health problem?"

"I'm sick," said Sam. "I have headaches."

"I have headaches too, but a chiropractor stopped them a week ago. I think I
can help you. You won't have to talk to a soul in the world but me."

Sam hung up again, evidently fearful of his call being traced.

Lee, watching from his office, said, "We're not trying to trace the call. It's a
long, difficult process, and ineffective with these brief calls."

When Sam called back again at 8:25, Belli asked him what his problem
was.

"I don't want to go to the gas chamber. I have headaches," he said. "If I kill I
don't get them."
"No one has gone to the gas chamber in years," said Belli. "You want to
live, don't you? Well, this is your passport. How long have you been having
these headaches?"

"Since I killed a kid," answered Sam.

"Can you remember your childhood?"

"Yes."

"Do you have blackouts?"

"Yes."

"Do you have 6ts?"

"No. I just have headaches."

"Do you take aspirin?"

"Yes."

"Does it do any good?"

"No."

"Did you attempt to call one other time when Mr. Bailey was with us two or
three weeks ago?" asked Dunbar.

"Yes."

"Why did you want to talk to Bailey?"

"When do you want to talk to me?" said Belli.

"I don't want to be hurt," said Sam.

"You're not going to be hurt. You're not going to be hurt if you talk to me."
"You're not going to the gas chamber/' said Dunbar.

"I wouldn't think that they'd ask for capital punishment. We should ask the
district attorney—you want me to do that, Sam? You want me to talk to the
district attorney?" asked Belli.

There was a small scream.

"What was that?"

"I did not say anything. That was my headache," said Sam.

"You sound like you're in a great deal of pain," replied Belli. 'Tour voice
sounds muffled. What's the matter?"

"My head aches," he said. "I'm so sick. I'm having one of my headaches."

Another little cry, and a pause.

"I'm going to kill them. I'm going to kill all those kids!" screamed Sam. He
hung up.

When Sam called back again, Belli had the call put on a private line so the
audience could not hear. "Do you want me to be your lawyer? There is
goodness in you. Would you like to ted me anything?"

"Nothing."

"You feel like you're going to flip out? Sam, what do you want us to do?"

"I fed an awful kxiesomeness."

"Do you need free medicine or anything else? Wouldn't you

like to get rid of those damn headaches?" Belli said he'd try to get a promise
from District Attorney John J. Ferdon that Zodiac would not get the gas
chamber if he was convicted of murder.
Instead of the Fairmont, Belli suggested the steps of the Old St Mary's
Church in Chinatown as a meeting place. But Sam named another location
of his choice: Daly City, in front of the St Vincent de Paul Thrift Shop,
6726 Mission Street, at 10:30 that morning.

4 Take care of yourself/' said Belli

"Yeah," said Sam.

It was probably one of the least secret secret meetings in history. Belli was
followed by police, who had monitored the private line; they in turn were
followed by television camera crews, iadio trucks, reporters, and
photographers. Everyone was there. Everyone except Jim Dunbar, who had
grown disenchanted with the whole circus. And of course Zodiac—if it was
indeed he—who stood everyone up.

After forty-five minutes, Belli gave up and went home to get some sleep.

Sam had said nothing that would help the police catch him. On the other
hand, he had said nothing that would prove he was the real Zodiac. At least
the mysterious caller's voice had been recorded by Channel 7.

The Oakland patrolman who had received the original 2:00 am call said he
was certain he had talked to the real Zodiac and that he did not think it was
the same voice he heard on the Dunbar show.

Meanwhile, the three of the four living persons who had heard Zodiac's
voice gathered in a tiny room at KCO-TV to hear a transcription of Sam's
conversation with Belli The three were Napa patrolman David Slaight,
Vallejo police switchboard operator Nancy Slover, and Bryan HartneD. For
almost an hour they listened intently as die voice of Sam was played over
and over. At die end they remained silent and still. Was this the voice of
Zodiac?

Bryan spoke first "I felt that the voice on the tape was not as

deep and as old as Zodiac's." The others shrugged their shoulders and shook
their heads in agreement.
"It's too young," said the dark-haired, long-jawed patrolman Slaight, "less
sure of himself."

'it's too pitiful and pathetic to be Zodiac," said Nancy Slover

It was only too obvious that the call to Dunbar's show was just someone
taking advantage of the opportunity to call into the "Zodiac Telethon"—or,
as one sarcastic cop suggested the name of Dunbar's program be changed
to, "Son of Zodiac."

"As things stand now, having no idea of the killer's identity, we're willing to
try anything," said one detective, "even if it means dealing with kooks."

The mystery of Sam was eventually solved when in subsequent calls to

Belli the caller was traced to Napa State Hospital and was discovered to be
a mental patient there.

KRON-TV called the press room at the Hall of Justice just before their
evening news deadline to check on a story that Zodiac had been captured by
the police after he arrived late at the Daly City meeting place. The rumor
was that Zodiac was being held quietly until some sort of positive
identification could be made. It turned out to be just a rumor, but it created
considerable excitement.

Around the same time, the Chronicle began to receive calls from readers
who saw a connection between Zodiac and the current Dick Tracy comic
strip. On August 17, a few weeks after the Cipher Slayer dubbed himself
Zodiac, the Zodiac gang, a group of astrological killers, led by a grotesque
villain named Scorpio, made their appearance in the strip. The gang
polished off an astrology columnist by drowning him, and Tracy found cuff
links with a scorpion and a horoscope on his shirt. CI&I agents hoped that
somewhere in one of the panels there might be a parallel between the
fictional Zodiac Killers and the real life Zodiac. CI&I senior analyst in the
crime lab, Earl Bauer, said, "It's just speculation at this point. We really
haven't got into it yet. It's just one of those way-out things that you take a
look at."

Dick Tracy is written and drawn several weeks ahead of publi-

cation to allow for proofreading, the making of matts and proofs, and
mailing time. The Tracy-Zodiac sequence did not run until after Zodiac had
made his choice of name so it would be impossible for the strip to have
influenced him—unless Zodiac was someone who actually worked at a
newspaper.

Monday, November 10, 1969

Armstrong and Toschi were notified that the Chronicle had received two
more pieces of mail from Zodiac, both postmarked San Francisco. In his
usual attempt to keep the police from tracing him through his handwriting,
the killer had continued to print in tidy, small letters. However, there was no
doubt that the mail was genuine: another portion of Stine's gray-and-white
shirt had been enclosed.

As before, the envelopes were addressed simply to the Chroni-cUy "Please

Rush to Editor/' They had been mailed on Saturday, November 8, and
Sunday, November 9.

In his new letters Zodiac boasted of two more murders—seven instead of

the known five.

The only recent unsolved murders in the Bay Area that Toschi knew of
were knife slayings. On August 3, two San Jose teenagers, classmates, left
their homes in mid-morning to have a picnic on a hillside in the rugged
Alameda Valley section of South San Jose. The girls, Deborah Cay Furlong,
fourteen, and Kathy Snoozy, fifteen, locked their bikes to the chain fence at
the bottom of the hill and made their way to a sunny knoll overlooking their
subdivision homes. When they had not returned by six o'clock, the father of
the youngest girl set off to look for them. When he neared the picnic area he
saw a large crowd of motorcyclists and police gathered together. Horror-
stricken, he ran to the grove of trees. The girls' bodies were lying there. The
girls were fully clothed except for a sandal that was found nearby.
Detectives felt that they had been slain elsewhere because little blood was
in evidence. In the evening dusk, a series of footprints were found

in the hillside grove of oaks. The police began making plaster casts of these.
Dr. John E. Hauser, Santa Clara County's chief medical examiner and
coroner, was so shaken by the crime that he could scarcely talk.

"I've never seen a case with this many stab wounds," he said. "You know,
I've been in this profession a long time and sometimes I think I'm rather
callous, but when I saw these girls, believe me, it was terrifying. The Nazi
sex mutilations during World War II were nothing compared to what was
done to these young girls."

The narrow-bladed knife that took the young children's lives in a blood
frenzy had risen and fallen more than three hundred times, all above the
waist of the young victims.

Toschi had feared that Zodiac was making good his threat that "children
make nice targets."

Meanwhile, Zodiac's threats of murdering children continued to create

panic. In San Jose, 475 outraged parents searched for the killer of Furlong
and Snoozy in vigilante groups, patrolling the neighborhood in cars marked
with white flags. All of the men were armed. The theory was that a tall, thin
teenager was the killer and that he lived right in the neighborhood since he
had disappeared so quickly after the murders. It would be almost two years
until the killer of the children would be caught.

Toschi knew of no other killings, with the exception of an infant that he

suspected had been killed by dogs. The detectives turned their attention to
Zodiac's November 8 letter. Although, as usual, it had been overposted, the
stamps were not placed upside down or vertically but in a normal manner.

The envelope contained a "Jesters" greeting card manufactured by Forget

Me Not Cards/American Greeting Cards Co. On the front (reproduced for
the first time) was a drawing of dripping wet fountain pen hanging by a
string and the caption:

Sorry I haven't

written,
but I just

washed my pen . . .

On the inside was the punchline, written in a splotchy, manic style:

and i can't do a thing with it'

The inscription from the Cipher Slayer read:

This is the Zodiac speaking I though you would nead a good laugh before
you hear the bad news you won't get the news for a while yet PS could you
print this new cipher

on your front page?

—«. * ** t—t-. get awruu> ionei>

when I am ignored,

So lonely I could

do my 7Tiing M

Five months were listed in abbreviated form at the bottom of the card "Des
Jury Au« Sept Oct = 7." Victims for all the months but August could be
accounted for. It did seem that Zodiac was saying he had killed two people
in August Snoozy and Furlong were the only unsolved murders in August,
S.F.P.D. could discover no others.

Within the hour, the Zodiac squad began to check stationery stores that seD
greeting cards in hopes that some clerk would r emembq selling the card
Zodiac had sent. In San Francisco alone there were now fifty officers and
ten inspectors assigned to the Zodiac case full-time.

Inside the greeting card, Zodiac had also sent his most complex cryptogram
yet The cipher was composed of 340 symbols arranged in a block twenty
lines deep and signed with his own personal symbol, a large circle with a
cross superimposed over it. Toschi had photocopies made of the new cipher
and sent them

to the National Security Agency and the CIA in Washington. The NSA said
that there was definitely a message in the cipher.

Armstrong and Toschi hoped that when the Chronicle ran a photo of the
340-symbol cryptogram, amateur codebreakers might get lucky a second
time. "It's just a matter of patience before it pieces itself together. Trial and
error," said one cryptographer, "that's what solves cryptograms." A
linguistics expert at Massachusetts University ran the code over and over
through a computer, but got nowhere.

In the spirit of codebreaking, the Examiner ran a cipher challenge to Zodiac

from Dr. Marsh of the American Cryptogram .Association. Dr. Marsh told
the Examiner that "the killer wouldn't dare, as he has claimed in his letters,
to reveal his [real] name in a cipher to established cryptogram experts. He
knows, to quote Edgar Allen Poe, that 'any cipher devised by man can be
solved by man.' " Dr. Marsh then printed a message to Zodiac in the killer's
own code and dared him to send the ACA his real name encoded. The
cryptographer's challenge to Zodiac, when deciphered, was a phone number
for the killer to call and give his own cipher.

In the Zodiac letter mailed November 9, his seventh letter, the killer sent the
Chronicle a seven-page diatribe. The complete text of this letter has never
been released before now, and it has never been reproduced. Toschi and
Armstrong started with the first page and made notes as they went.

This is the Zodiac speaking up to the end of Oct I have killed 7 people. I
have grown rather angry with the police for their telling lies about me. So I
shaD change the way the collecting of slaves. I shall no longer announce to
anyone, when I comitt my murders, they shall look like routine robberies,
killings of anger, &

a few fake accidents, etc.

The police shall never catch me,

because 1 have been too clever

for them.

1 I look like the description

passed out only when I do

my thing, the rest of the time

1 look entirle different. I shall not tell you what my descise consists of
when I kill

2 As of yet I have left no fingerprints behind me contrary to what the police

say

in my killings I wear transparent finger tip guards. All it is is 2 coats of

airplane cement coated on my finger tips—quite unnoticible dr very
efective.

3 my killing tools have been bought en through the mail order outfits before
the ban* went into efect. except one & it was

bought out of the state. So as you can see the police don't have much to
work on. If you wonder why I was wipeing the cab down I was leaving fake
clews for the police to run all over town with, as one might say, I gave the
cops som bussy work to do to keep them happy. I enjoy needling the blue
pigs. Hey blue pig I was in the park—you were useing fire trucks to mask
the sound of your cruzeing prowl cars. The dogs never came with in 2
blocks of me & they were to

*The 1968 Federal Gun Control Act forbade mail-order sales of guns and
ammunition and over-the-counter sale to out-of-state residents, mental
patients, and convicted felons.

the west & there was only 2 groups of parking about 10 min apart then the
motor cicles went by about 150 ft away going from south to north west, p.s.
2 cops pulled a goof abot 3 min after I left the cab. I was walking down the
hill to the park when this cop car pulled up & one of them called me over &
asked if I saw any one acting supicisous or strange in the last 5 to 10 min &
I said yes there was this man who was running by waveing a gun & the
cops peeled rubber & went around the corner as I directed them tc I dissap
eared into the park a block & a half away never to be seen again.

Hey pig doesnt it rile you up

to have your noze rubed in your

booboos?

If you cops think I'm going to take

on a bus the way I stated I was,

you deserve to have holes in your

heads.

Take one bag of ammonium nitrate

fertilizer & 1 gal of stove oil &

dump a few bags of gravel on

top & then set the shit off

& will positivly ventalate any

thing that should be in the way

of the blast.

The death machine is all ready

made. I would have sent you

pictures but you would be nasty

enough to trace them back to

developer & then to me, so I shall describe my masterpiece to you. Tke nice
part of it is all the parts can be bought on the open market with no quest
ions asked.

1 bat. pow clock—will run for approx 1 year

1 photoelectric switch

2 copper leaf springs 2 6V car bat

1 flash light bulb & reflector

1 mirror

2 18* cardboard tubes black with shoe polish inside & oute

On the fifth page the killer had drawn a diagram of the inner workings of
the bomb. It was rigged to explode to the height of buses and to let the
lower-carriage automobiles pass by safely.

the system checks out from one end to the other in my tests. What you do
not know it whether the death machine is at the sight or whether it is being
stored in my basement for future use.

If Zodiac actually did have a basement, then it meant he had a home of his
own, was not an apartment dweller. It limited the number of places he might
reside, since basements are not all that common in the Bay Area.

I think you do not have the

manpower to stop this one

by continually searching the

road sides looking for this

thing. St it wont do to re roat [reroute]

& re schedule the busses bee

ause the bomb can be adapted to new conditions. Have fun!! By the way it
could be rather messy if you try to bluff me.

At the bottom of the page Zodiac had drawn a large crossed-circle, five x's
moving clockwise on the left hemisphere. Were these a symbolic map to the
various Zodiac killings, or a map to his doorstep? Most likely, the police
decided, they were a calendar showing the dates of the seven murders.

PS. Be shure to

print the part I

marked out on

page 3 [about being stopped by police] or I shall

do my riling

To prove that I am the

Zodiac, Ask the VaDejo

cop about my electric gun

sight which I used to start

my collecting of slaves.

Toschi put the letter down. "Get the Army on the phone and find out if such
a Rube Goldberg device could possibly be constructed," ordered Lee.

The army bomb expert said, "Possible? It certainly is."

Later, Chief of Police Al Nelder himself issued orders to the Zodiac squad
to keep silent about the bomb details. In cooperation with the police, the
Chronicle agreed not to print any part of the letter that dealt with the bomb.
Fear of a school bus attack intensified.

Tuesday, November 11, 1969

Officially, detectives were now ruling out Zodiac as the killer of the San
Jose girls last August. The contention was that Zodiac's

gigantic ego would not let him kill without assuming "credit" for the brutal
acts.

"In the press," Marty Lee said, "Zodiac has been made out to be a madman .
. . insane. ... I think the man is legally sane. ... He has exhibited intelligence
by hiding and fleeing from the police. I do not picture him as a man who
works with his hands. I guess he has a small job and works with paper. . . .
The cryptograms are a work of art. They are meticulously well-aligned. . . .
Again a guess. ... I think he is still in the Bay Area."

Saturday, December 27, 1969

Melvin Belli was in Munich, Germany, for a conference of military trial

lawyers, so the barrister's housekeeper sent his unopened mail down to his
office to be opened by his secretary. One letter was postmarked December
20, but had been delayed by heavy Christmas mail. There was no doubt
who the letter was from. Neatly folded inside the four-by : seven-inch white
envelope was yet another portion of Paul Stine's blood-blackened shirt.

This letter, in felt-tip pen, was written in handwriting smaller than the last
letter; it contained punctuation and spelling mistakes as usual.

One of Belli's legal associates flew to Munich to give him a

photoreproduction of the letter, envelope, and bloody scrap. A card had also
been enclosed that said, "Merry Xmass and New Year." The message,
printed in block letters, Zodiac's eighth letter, read:

Dear Melvin, This is the Zodiac speaking I wish you a happy Christmass.
The one thing I ask of you is this, please help me. I cannot reach out for
help because of this thing in me won't let me. i am finding it extreamly dif-
icult to hold it in check I am
afraid I will loose control again and take my nincth & posibly tenth victom.
Please help me I am drownding. At the moment the children are safe from
the bomb because it is so massive to dig in & the triger mech requires much
work to get it adjusted just right. But if I hold back too long from no nine I
will loose eemplet all controol of my self & set the bomb up. Please help
me I can not remain in control for much longer.

Zodiac seemed to be saying that he had taken an eighth victim since his
November 8 and 9 letters. There were only two known possible victims:
Elaine Davis and Leona Larell Roberts.

Davis had disappeared December 1, 1969, a Monday, and has never been
found.

Leona Roberts disappeared on December 10, 1969, a Wednesday, at 6:00

p.m. The body of the sixteen-year-old was found nude on December 28,
lying over a roadside embankment near Bolinas Lagoon. She had been kept
alive for ten days after her abduction from her boyfriend's apartment in
Rodeo. None of her clothing was found, and she had not been sexually
molested. But most importantly, she was found near a body of water, as all
of Zodiac's victims had been. The killer had taken the keys to her V.W.

Zodiac had also used the phrase "a happy Christmas," which was more
common usage in Britain and Canada than in the United States. Zodiac
warned of picking off "the kiddies," which is another slang word from
Great Britain or Australia. Could Zodiac be British?

Belli was willing to meet in secret with the mass murderer any time, any
place. He told the killer through the Chronicle: "You have asked me for help
and I promise you I will do everything in

my power to provide you with whatever help you may need or may want.

M If you want to meet with me alone I will come alone. If you want me to
bring a priest or a psychiatrist or a reporter to talk with, I will do so. I will
follow your instructions to the letter.
"You say you are 'losing control' and may kill again. Do not make things
worse. Let me help you now."

To the reporters, Belli said, "I believe he wants to stop killing. I have
carefully studied his letter . . . and feel it was written at a time when he
calmly and rationally was considering the future. He knows eventually he
will be apprehended and that unless he gets proper legal representation he
will most probably be sentenced to die in the gas chamber. That is why he is
crying out

for help Why he has come to me? He wants to be saved from

the gas chamber."

In a phone call a man claiming to be Zodiac had gotten along so well with
Belli's housekeeper that Belli fully expected "when I get home he'll be
sitting in the front room with the housekeeper. ... I think we can do
something for him. . . . We might get this guy and save some lives—
including his."

The killer never responded to Belli's appeal. It was months before the
Cipher Slayer wrote to Belli again.

Joseph DeLouise

Sunday, January 4, 1970

Joseph DeLouise, a Chicago psychic, felt that he had been getting mental
transmissions from Zodiac for about a month. He had received impressions
that for the killer the excitement of murder was over, and that Zodiac
wanted a safe way to surrender to the police. Most amazingly of all,
DeLouise had begun to see a mental picture of what Zodiac's true face
looked like.
DeLouise had gained national fame two years previously when he predicted
the Kennedy family would be touched by tragedy involving a Kennedy
around water. Two months later, Senator Edward M. Kennedy's car plunged
off a Massachusetts bridge into a canal at Chappaquiddick and a secretary
with him, Mary Jo Kopechne, was drowned.

Hie dark, lean, serious, and almost satanic-looking mystic, aged forty-three,
ran a Chicago hair dressing supply business and had been raised in die
tough neighborhoods of Chicago after his family came from Italy. Even in
Italy, at the age of four, he claimed he had the ability to see the future.

He predicted a major bridge disaster on November 25, 1967, and less than
one month later, December 15, the "Silver Bridge"

that spanned the Ohio River at Point Pleasant, West Virginia, collapsed.
Forty-six people were killed in the catastrophe.

Three and one half months before the arrests in the Sharon Tate murders,
the seer pinpointed the hideout in Texas of one of the suspects, accurately
described two others who participated in the mass murders, and foretold the
number ultimately involved.

In September 1969, he predicted an air crash over Indianapolis and gave the
time of the tragedy as 3:30. A month later, an air crash occurred at 3:31.

DeLouise, known as the "prophet of specifics," spoke to Bud Kressin of the

Vallejo Times-Herald in an exclusive interview and told what he had seen
from two thousand miles away.

"I keep getting the word 'Berkeley,' " said DeLouise over the phone. "I don't
see him from Vallejo or living there. But I do get strong impressions he is
living in Berkeley or recently lived there.

"I feel he is highly nervous inwardly. He doesn't like to drive a car. He'd
rather be on foot. I don't know why I get this feeling but I feel he is very
mixed up and that he can be helped. I feel he has a little box in which he
keeps things. I get an impression about stones. He should get rid of these
things. He has a box in which he has certain things he's saving. When he
looks at them and runs them through his fingers, it causes him to do hideous
things. I feel he should get rid of them as a part of turning himself in.

"Zodiac has done this because he didn't have guidance. At a young age, he
spent time in a reform school-type of institution. He didn't have a father's
guidance. A big change took place in his life at the age of thirteen because
he unjustly was accused of something. I don't feel he was guilty."

Mental pictures of what Zodiac looked like had been flooding the psychic's
mind for almost a month, constantly merging and changing. The image that
remained clearest to DeLouise was that of a man about twenty-eight years
old, approximately five foot eight inches tall, somewhere between 135 to
145 pounds, with a slightly undernourished look The killer had silky,
darkish brown hair that he normally wore in a pompadour, but as a disguise
combed forward. "I don't think Zodiac wean glasses," said

DeLouise. "He's too vain to wear them even if he needed them. He uses
them only as a disguise."

The Chicago seer felt that Zodiac used drugs that had damaged his brain
and given him a persecution complex, drugs that kept him high, although in
the case of the Benyessa murder he was taking some sort of depressant.
DeLouise said "vibrations" he had received told him that Zodiac had
resorted to "speed and goof balls/' which he took before his murders.

'This man is transmitting/' said the psychic. "Only people who deal in this
type of extrasensory perception know each other.

I hope I can prove to him in some way that I want to help him."

DeLouise planned to meet with Chicago police to help develop some sort of
composite drawing of his vision. The seer felt that the killer might be a
Scorpio or Aquarian because of the figures "11-2" and "2-11" which he kept
receiving, standing for February

II or November 2.
Because he continued to receive the impression that the killer wanted to
turn himself in, DeLouise decided to come to the Bay Area at his own
expense to help Zodiac find peace of mind.

Tuesday, January 20, 1970

DeLouise arrived in San Francisco at 7:00 a.m. and was met by his West
Coast representative, Christopher Harris, who had flown up from
Hollywood. The psychic arrived in Vallejo at two in the afternoon and went
directly to V.P.D. Officers took him to the site of the Jensen-Faraday
murders, wondering if the months that had lapsed between the attack and
his visit would affect his ability to pick up impressions. DeLouise told them
there was no time in extrasensory perception and the difference of a year
would not weaken his psychic concentration.

Next, DeLouise visited with Napa law enforcement officials, who went over
the details of the take Benyessa slaying. DeLouise got new feelings about
the killer involving horses and a white dog, loneliness, love of flowers, and
intense hatred of police. The seer suggested that the killer may have applied
for work in law enforce-

ment and been rebuffed or been an outpatient in a mental hospital. The

words "roth" and "field" and a picture of a small bridge nine miles south of
town flashed into DeLouise's mind, but he was unable to tell what meaning
they had in solving the riddle of Zodiac's identity.

He told police, "I will stay until the weekend, but I will stay in San
Francisco. I fed it would be more dangerous for me to stay in VaDejo. I
can't explain why. I just feel that way."

In San Francisco, DeLouise was not allowed to touch any of the physical
evidence from the Stine case and came up with no impressions. "Sometimes
just touching these things triggers impressions, brings a name. It's called
psychometry," he said. But the police were unmoved.

For three days the psychic pleaded over television and radio for the killer to
surrender, but he never did.
The psychic returned to Chicago.

$1

Kathleen Johns

Sunday, March 15, 1970

In Santa Rosa, a man frightened three separate women motorists in an

identical manner between 3:00 a.m. and 4:00 a.m. At 5:10, police stopped a
man whose auto and license number matched their descriptions.

He was identified as a VaDejo resident in a "1962-64 white Chevrolet." The

man, "about twenty-three," was stopped on Fourth Street after he had
followed a woman right into the post office parking lot. He claimed that he
was lost and looking for a way out of town.

The police let the man go and escorted him out of town.

Tuesday, March 17, 1970

A Vallejo woman was on her way to Travis Air Force Base when a white
Chevrolet began to tailgate her. The driver kept looking at her and then
began "blinking lights, banging his horn" and tried to get her to stop. She
raced ahead ami eventually was able to outdistance the car.

Sunday, March 22, 1970

Mrs. Kathleen Johns bundled up her ten-month-old daughter, Jennifer, and

left her home in San Bernardino at 7:00 p.m. for the trip to Petaluma, a
small dairy-farming community where her sick mother lived. It was easier
to travel at night while the baby slept.

Kathleen made her way up dusty Interstate 5 and onto Highway 99 just
before Bakersfield, through Fresno, Merced, and Modesto, where she
swung left onto Highway 132, a rarely used road. In her rearview mirror she
noticed a car she seemed to have picked up on her tail in Modesto. "It
wasn't as new as a '68," she told me later. "It was junky."
It was near midnight when Kathleen slowed to let the car pass her.
Abruptly, the driver behind began to blink his lights and honk his horn.
When Kathleen ignored this, the stranger accelerated and pulled into the
lane alongside her 1957 maroon-and-white Chevrolet station wagon. He
yelled through his open passenger-side window that her left rear wheel was
wobbling.

Kathleen, who was seven months pregnant, was very concerned about
stopping on such a lightly traveled road with a stranger.

"It was a two-lane road," she recalled for me later. "The man started
flashing his lights off and on. My car was such a clunker I figured
something was wrong with it.

"But I didn't stop, because it was dangerous out there. I waited till I got to
the freeway, then I stopped by 5."

Kathleen pulled to the edge of Maze Road near Interstate 5, and the light-
colored car parked on the shoulder in back of her.

"A clean-shaven and very neatly dressed man" got out with a lug wrench in
his left hand and approached her, gesturing toward the back of her station
wagon. "He was about thirty," she said later.

"He seemed like a reliable person," Kathleen told me. "Nobody that looked
in any way freaky. As a matter of fact, I remember thinking he may have
been a service man or something. He was that kind of clean-cut. He had the
tire iron when he got out."

"Your left rear wheel is wobbling," he said in a soft voice,

leaning on her door and looking down into her car. "I'll tighten your lugs if
you'd like."

Kathleen reached over and pulled the blanket over her sleeping baby and
then tried to see out the window into the dark where the man pointed.
"Don't worry," he said, walking to the rear of her car. "I'll be glad to fix it
for you." Kathleen could hear him working on the wheel, but he was out of
her view.

After a while, he stood up and came around to her window. "O.K., that
should do itf he said, and waved and returned to his car.

"He went ahead and pulled back on the freeway," Kathleen told me.

She had driven only five or six car lengths before her whole left rear tire
spun off, crashing and banging, into the weeds at the side of the road.

She turned off the engine, leaving the keys in the ignition, and got out of the
car to see what had happened. Meanwhile, the stranger backed up to the
front of Kathleen's car, got out, and ran up to her. For the first time she got a
good look at him as he crossed in front of her headlights.

"Oh, no, the trouble's worse than I thought!" he said. "I'll give you a ride to
the service station." The stranger stood between ha and her car.

Kathleen looked over his shoulder at a light down the road Not more than a
quarter mile away was an ARCO service station, brightly illuminated.
ARCO was good because she had a credit card at the time and no money.

"Come on," he pleaded. "I'D give you a drive to the garage. It's O.K."

"I really wouldn't have gotten in his car if I had had any bad vibes about it,"
she told me. "I remember I told him where I was going, and I think he was
going there too."

Kathleen gathered up Jennifer and got into the man's car. Just as they were
pulling out, she noticed that the lights to her car were still on and r
emembered that the keys were still in the ignition. The man smiled, went
back to her car, snapped off the lights, and

pocketed the keys. Then the stranger drove her away from her car —but not
to the ARCO station.
"When he missed it, I really didn't think much about it. I didn't say
anything," Kathleen told me. "When he passed the next exit, it dawned on
me something wasn't right. As long as he wasn't talking, neither was I. We
went several more exits before he got off, and then I just didn't say
anything. He was doing the driving."

The man started down a rocky, deserted farm road. Nothing was said for a
long time. His windbreaker was open and she could see the white of his
shirt glowing duDy in the moonlight. The man started to puD over to the
roadside and then speeded up. He repeated this several times. Kathleen
thought he was going to make a pass at her.

She was the one to break the silence. "Do you always go around helping
people on the road like this?" she said sarcastically.

"When I get through with them they don't need any help," said the man, his
tone changing as he looked off at the dark woods in the distance.

Kathleen watched the menacing dark shapes of trees and an occasional

farmhouse flash by the window of the roving car. After thirty minutes, the
stranger turned to look at her and said, "You know you're going to die. You
know I'm going to kill you."

"Then he said, Tm going to throw the baby out,' " Kathleen told me. "I'm
getting past the point of being scared enough to pee in my pants. I'm just
thinking, What am I going to do? But real calm and cool. I figured you need
an action for a reaction-type thing. Do whatever it is he wanted to do. You
know, sometimes you have to cry or beg or whatever. Altogether he drove
down those back country roads for two or three hours."

The man drove the frightened woman through a maze of winding lanes,
rarely speaking but occasionally looking over at her and repeating either
"You know I'm going to kiU you" or "You know you're going to die."

Kathleen knew he meant it. "His eyes," she thought; "they're deadpan eyes."

Her head was swimming, but she tried to remember everything

she could about this man during their slow drive. First she noticed that the
stranger's shoes had been shined so brightly, "spit-shined," that they
reflected the yellow interior lights of the car. "They weren't boot types.
They were like Navy shoes. His general appearance, come to think of it,
was Navy."

He was dressed in a dark blue-black nylon windbreaker over black woolen

bell-bottom pants. The black, thick-rimmed glasses he wore were held
firmly in place by a thin band of elastic around his head. His chin was
traced with scars of some past acne infection.

"His nose was not especially small," she told me; "his jaw wasn't weak. He
wasn't a weak type of person and he didn't have a heavy forehead. His hair
was brown, worn like a crew cut. That's probably why I thought of a service
man. He wasn't real big, weighed about 166." Kathleen herself was five foot
nine inches tall.

"I got the distinct impression that he might not be aware of what he was
doing. I think he could even be the man next door and might not know it
was himself. Obviously he was sick."

There was a full moon out and it cast a glow on Kathleen's blond hair and
gray eyes. She took in everything she could.

His car was an American make, lightly colored, a late-model two-door with
old California license plates, the black-and-yellow kind. The car's interior
was messy, with papers, books, and clothes strewn about the front and back
seats and even on the dashboard. The clothing was mostly a man's, but
mixed in were some small T-shirts with patterns such as a child age eight to
twelve might wear.

"He is so neatly dressed," thought Kathleen, "and yet the car is so messy."
On the dashboard were two colored plastic scouring pads—"house stuff in
the car. Stuff that didn't belong there." Next to the pads she could make out
a black, four-celled flashlight with a rubber grip.

A sporty console-style auto-transmission gear shift box was between the

two black bucket scats, with a special built-in cigarette lighter on its right
side and an ashtray at the front end. "It seemed to be port of the car."

The stranger continued speaking in a monotone, with no trace of accent.

"No emotion," Kathleen told me. "No anger, no kind of emotion. Nothing.
The words just come out. He didn't speak abnormally slow but very precise.
It just came out. Period. What he was going to say. It just had no feeling.

"I couldn't handle it anymore, so I decided the next time he came to one of
those Hollywood stops—you know, not a complete stop—that he made at
the different stop signs, I was going to jump out."

Suddenly the car came to a halt. The man had inadvertently driven up a
freeway offramp.

Kathleen scooped up little Jennifer and jumped from the car, dashed across
the road, and leapt into an irrigation ditch surrounded by tall grass in the
middle of a field.

"It was all wine vineyard with a little gully and I just laid as flat as I could."
She held herself on top of Jennifer to keep the baby from making an outcry.

Her heart pounded in her temples, her breath came loudly and rapidly; the
car did not move. She could see the man now. He had a flashlight and was
playing it about the field, searching for a glimpse of her and the baby. He
called out for her to come back. There was silence except for the sound of
crickets. The man stepped forward, swinging the light.

"About the same time," Kathleen told me later, "this old semi-truck was
going on the freeway, his lights must have flashed on the man because the
driver just stopped that big thing on a dime and jumped out and yelled,
'What the hell is going on?' and this guy jumped in his car and split."

The stranger's car accelerated down the black road; a trail of gray dust
spiraled behind the vehicle. The driver of the truck came toward Kathleen,
and she panicked.

"Not another man! He started coming down the hill toward me and I just
started blowing it. I made him wait until a lady came along and I rode with
her. But then, when I got to this little one-horse town, she let me off in front
of the police station and I went into this dumpy little office where there was
just this one old man, a sergeant. I told him my story and he went kind of
pale.

I guess things like that don't happen every day around a little town. Well, he
got a form and I'm giving him a detailed description of the man and his car."

As she and the policeman talked, Kathleen's gaze wandered up the wall
where the cops kept their wanted posters. Her eyes locked on the bulletin
board^she gave a start and let out a scream.

"Oh, my God! fha£* him! That's him right there!"

On the bulletin board was the composite drawing of the murderer of Paul
Stine—a composite drawing of Zodiac.

"The sergeant panicked when I told him it was the guy on the wall, and he
wanted to get me out of there because he thought the man might come back
and try and do us both in. He was the only one on duty and in fact he took
me over to a diner that wasn't open. He had the owner open up so I could sit
there instead of his office. I was kind of ticked about that. I guess he didn't
fed safe with me being there.

"I sat there in die dark cafe and explained to him where my car was,"
Kathleen said, "by the ARCO station. And I guess the sheriff went out but
he radioed back to say there was no car. They kept searching, and then just
a while later it came over the radio that the car had been found on this other
road, but all burned

up."

In order to move Kathleen's car to Byrd Road at Highway 132, it was found
the stranger actually had had to put the wheel back on the car.

"The inside was totally burned. I went to the junk yard because all my kid's
stuff was in there. I wanted to see if there was anything I could salvage.
There wasn't. The inside was just gutted."
In the days following the attack, Toschi sent Kathleen a series of photos of
suspects. The ages were twenty-eight to forty-five. I asked her about this
later.

"Yeah, he sent them through the Stanislaus County sheriff. But I felt that the
suspect was younger and not in those pictures. If I saw him again, though, I
would instantly recognize him."

The fact that the murder attempt on Kathleen and her baby

occurred near aadngbt, on a weekend, at tbe time of the full moan, and that
the man was dreaed m Navy garb and were a crew cat, fed me Id believe
that me had escaped from the Zodiac kfler Added to this was the bet that
stranger wore dark-rimmed ad spoke m the monotone voice that al the
samviag

If it was tbe Zodiac that she had escaped from, then Katbkea had Ktn nim
tap cue and without a iinguwr bugo than any of mtvicbav.

And she had bred to tefl about it

Zodiac

Sunday, April 19, 1970

The man parked in a late-model hardtop at the corner of Bay Street and the
Embarcadero seemed to have an obsession about the crime rate in San
Francisco. He went on in great detail to list all thirty-five of the city's
murders so far that year.

'it's not safe to walk alone/' he told Christopher Edwards, a ship's steward,
"with all the muggings, murders, rapes, and crime." Edwards had stopped to
ask directions while walking to Fisherman's Wharf and he was getting "bad
vibrations" from the stranger. The man identified himself as a British
engineer who had lived in San Francisco for ten yean; he offered the
steward a lift. Edwards declined, but listened while the stranger went on
with great knowledge about all the murders in the city, save those that were
on the minds of most people—the Zodiac killings.
The stranger's reluctance to talk about Zodiac impressed Edwards, and he
could not shake the incident from his mind. As soon as he got to the wharf,
he called the police. Later, at Central Station, he identified the man from a
composite drawing of Zodiac.

Was Zodiac a British engineer?

Sunday, April 19, 1970

! The body of renowned lamp designer Robert Salem, forty, was found
mutilated and almost decapitated in his elegant workshop-

i apartment at 754 Stevenson Street, behind the San Franciscan Hotel. The
killer (or killers) had tried unsuccessfully to cut Salem's head off with a
long, thin-bladed knife; failing that, he cut off the victim's left ear and
carried it away with him. On the wall, printed in the designer's own blood,
were the words: Satan Saves. Then in larger letters next to a dripping red
symbol of a crucified man was the word: ZODIAC. On Salem's stomach
was

[ the same crucifixion symbol, also drawn in the victim's blood. Apparently
the murderer was covered with blood from his victim

) and had committed the killing in the nude, leaving trails of blood

I throughout the studio.

Inspectors Cus Coreris and John Fotinos did not believe that

[ this was the work of the Zodiac killer but that of a "copycat

\ killer."

1 While detectives continued working on the Salem case, the real i Zodiac
was busy elsewhere. He was writing on an odd-sized piece of stationery
with a blue felt-tip pen, composing another of his letters—the ninth.

The envelope read: "Editor, San Fran. Chronicle, San Francisco, Calif."
Two Roosevelt six-cent stamps were turned on their i sides on the envelope
—twice as much postage as necessary. It was > as if the writer could hardly
wait for his message to be received. Sometimes the letters were written on
expensive Eaton bond paper, but this time the paper was so cheap that it had
no sort of watermark that could be traced to any manufacturer.

In a combination of handprinted words and script, the message read simply:

This is die Zodiac speaking By the way have you cracked die last ciper I
sent you? My name is—

Printed after this was a line of thirteen symbols:

This was the most tantalizing clue of all; the string of thirte characters that
Zodiac claimed made up his name.

Everyone tried looking at the thirteen symbols in different ways.' Vallejo

detectives tried multiplying and adding in various dire tions using the three
circled numeral eights. The numbers lookc out of place in the middle of the
cipher. Zodiac had not used nur bers before. Were they something other
than number eights?

The symbols might also be something other than a substitutic cipher.

Perhaps they could simply be read literally: "KAEN NAME." Herb Caen
was the Chronicle's leading columnist.

AEN^-8K8M8 /-> NAM

AEN K MYENAM

KAEN MYNAME

Or Zodiac could be saying his name was Kane. "Killer Kane'? Was the
stocky killer amusing himself, or had he at last told us his real name?
Would we be clever enough to extract the answer from the cipher?

The letter continued:

I am mildly cerous [curious] as to how much money you have on my head

now. I hope you do not think that I was the one who wiped out that blue
meannie with a bomb at the cop station. Even though I talked about killing
school children with one. It just wouldn't doo to move in on someone elses
teritory. But there is more glory in killing a cop than a cid [kid] because a
cop can shoot back. I have killed

ten people to date. It would have been a lot more except that my bus bomb
was a dud. I was swamped out by the rain we had a while back.

Zodiac's reference to killing a cop was an allusion to the dynamite bombing

of the Golden Gate Park police station on February 16, which killed
Sergeant Brian McDonnell and wounded eight other police officers.

The letter's left margin and printed lines were ruler straight, the size of the
letters showing extreme patience. It was the kind of handwriting one would
associate with a student or scientist. The capital letter / was severe and
looked like the Roman numeral /.

The second page of the letter began with the words:

The new bomb is set up like this

The rest of the page was taken up with an elaborate blueprint for a new
improved school bus killing bomb. At the bottom was a PS.:

I hope you have fun trying figgure out who I killed

Drawn carefully was the Zodiac symbol and the "score":

Zodiac-10 SFPEM)

Tuesday, April 21, 1970

The ninth Zodiac letter was received at the Chronicle in the morning mail.
Toschi was called; he rushed to the paper to see if it was genuine. Although
a swatch of Stine's blood-stained shirt was not included, there was enough
proof to convince the detec-

tive that the taunting message was authentic.

"It's Zodiac." Toschi sighed. "Here we go again."

"Who were the ninth and tenth victims?" he wondered. "If Kathleen Johns
was considered by Zodiac to be a victim, who was the other?"

On Friday, March 13, 1970, Marie Antoinette Anstey was taken from the
parking lot of the Coronado Inn in Vallejo. Her nude body was discovered
in Lake County on March 21, 1970, just off an isolated country road. None
of her clothing was ever found. She had been given mescaline, dealt a blow
to the head, and then drowned.

The murder fit many of the patterns of the Zodiac killings: it occurred on a
weekend, there was no sexual molestation, and it took place near a body of
water. The Coronado Inn had been the favorite after-hours club of Darlene
Ferrin, the third Vallejo victim of Zodiac. I thought it was strange that the
killings so far had taken place in locations that had a form of water in their
name: Lake Herman Road, Blue Rock Springs, Lake Berryessa, and
Washington Street, which was quite close to Lake Street. Was Lake County
part of this chain?

The police were most interested in Zodiac's statement that he killed ten
people and "it would have been a lot more except / was swamped out by the
rain we had a while hack' 1 (italics mine). He himself was swamped out; he
wasn't referring to the fact that driving rain would keep his young victims
out of lovers' lanes. Had the rain flooded the basement in which he claimed
to have built his bombs? Did he live in a remote area that was cut off from
the outside?

Toschi and Armstrong checked suspects who lived in areas that had been
recently flooded.

Wednesday, April 29, 1970

The Chronicle received the tenth Zodiac letter. It had been mailed just after
noon the previous day, in San Francisco. The newspaper held the new letter
back a day at the request of Chief

AI Nelder while he made a difficult decision.

Since the first mention of a "death machine" bomb last November (in the
seventh Zodiac letter), the papers had voluntarily held back all mention of
this device in order to prevent a panic such as the one that had occurred
after the death of Stine, when Zodiac had threatened to annihilate a school
bus full of children. Now Zodiac was demanding mention of his bomb
threats or he would below up a school bus.

Toschi and Armstrong studied the new letter, another of those leadenly dull
and humorless greeting cards Zodiac was so fond of sending to the papers.

The card (reproduced here for the first time) showed two old prospectors.
The first, on a burro, was saying to the second, "Sorry to hear your ass is a
dragon." The second miner rode an exhausted fork-tongued dragon.

Above the dragon Zodiac had written:

I hope you enjoy your selves when I have my Blast. PS. on back

The card was from the International Greetings Co. and was one of the Jolly
Roger line. The back of the card read:

If you dont want me to

have this blast you must

do two things. 1 Tell every

one about the bus bomb with

all the details. 2 I would like

to see some nice Zodiac butons

wandering about town. Every

one ebe has these buttons like,

[peace symbol], black power, mervin eats

bluber, etc. Well it would cheer me up considerbry if I saw a lot of people
wearing my buton. Please no nasty ones like melvin's

Thank you

It seemed that Zodiac had lost his respect for Melvin Belli.

At the end of the letter, the stocky man had boldly drawn his emblem, the
second time in the letter. It was the design to be used for the buttons, the
seal of the Zodiac.

Chief Nelder felt the bomb blueprint in the ninth letter (April 20) was a
ruse, but he called a press conference anyway. "It's not my intention to
frighten the public, but this guy has now demanded there be mention of the
bomb and has threatened to blow up a school bus if mention wasn't made. I
weighed all sides of the question and concluded this information should be
made public."

The papers had been printing only portions of the Zodiac letters all along,
and now held down any sort of general alarm by describing the bomb plans
as dubious. The bomb schematic that Zodiac had drawn was never
reproduced.

No buttons were ever made.

Friday, May 8, 1970

In Santa Rosa, a K-Mart department store was evacuated after an

anonymous telephone bomb threat by a man identifying himself as Zodiac.
A man identifying himself as Zodiac had made a Santa Rosa bomb threat
exactly a year earlier.

Friday, May 22, 1970

In a press conference in Los Angeles, Florence E. Douglas, mayor of

Vallejo and candidate for the Democratic gubernatorial nomi-

nation, said, "I believe some clues were overlooked in the murder of
Darlene Ferrin." She pledged to use all her influence to reopen the Ferrin
case. She believed that it was a premeditated killing.

Darlenes mother had informed Christopher Harris, Joseph DeLouise's

representative, that the night of her death Darlene had told her, "You might
read about me in the papers tomorrow/' Both Harris and DeLouise felt
Darlene knew her killer. Harris was at the news conference with Mayor
Douglas and was introduced as a free-lance writer.

I was familiar with Harris. He had been turned in as a Zodiac suspect

because of suspicious questions he had been asking Val-lejo residents. The
police were certain he had absolutely no involvement in the Zodiac crimes.

'The investigation of the death of Darlene Ferrin by the Val-lejo Police

Department was without question inadequate," Harris said at the
conference. "I base this statement on conversations with investigating
officers, police authorities in the Vallejo-Napa area, Darlene Ferrin's
mother, and Mayor Florence E. Douglas.

. I observed while in Vallejo that the police disregarded the ridiculous; I am

now a firm believer that in the ridiculous, especially in the case of Darlene
Ferrin, lies a storehouse of clues. The police should have done a complete
character sketch of Darlene Ferrin.

"There are too many questions into her death that have not been properly
tied down. The use of the flashlight proves that the killer wanted to make
sure he had the right person. I do not agree with the statement that the
flashlight was used to make sure he killed his victim. If the Darlene Ferrin
case was reopened, it would have a major psychological effect on the
Zodiac's deranged mind that would eventually draw him into the open/'

In Vallejo, the Ferrin murder investigation continued; the case remained

open. There is no statute of limitations on murder. Shake-ups began in the
department of police, from the chief on down.

Monday, June 29, 1970

It was two months before Zodiac sent another letter to the Chronicle (only
small portions of this letter have been reproduced before now). This one
was postmarked San Francisco, and mailed on June 26. The eleventh letter
read:

This is the Zodiac speaking I have become very upset with the people of
San Fran Bay Area. They have not complied with my wishes for them to
wear some nice ^ buttons. 1 promised to punish them if they did not
comply, by anilating a full School Buss. But now school is out for the
summer, so I punished them in an another way. I shot a man sitting in a
parked car with a .38.

^-12 SFPEW) The Map coupled with this code wiD tell you where the
bomb is set. You have until] next Fall to dig it up. JSf

San Francisco Police Officer Richard Radetich, twenty-five, had been shot
to death with a .38 while he was sitting in a parked car on Friday morning
in the 600 block of Waller writing out a traffic citation. Homicide detectives
vociferously denied that Zodiac could be his killer, 'if he's hinting he shot
officer Radetich then he's tying. We have already issued an arrest warrant in
the case/' said one detective.

Zodiac's enclosed map, actually an altered "Phillips 66" service station road
map, pinpointed the peak of Mt. Diablo (Devil's Mountain) in Contra Costa
County across the bay from San

I Francisco. I was intrigued by Zodiac's choice of a road map. For one

thing, Phillips was the name of Darlene's first husband. The new letter now
claimed twelve victims for Zodiac. The detectives considered the possibility
that the map marked not the site of a new bomb but the burial spot of
Zodiac victim number twelve. In imitation of his own crossed-circle
symbol, he had drawn a compass symbol radiating from a small square in
the center. The Phillips map was not detailed enough to tell what that small
square was, so I consulted a larger map and discovered that located at the
exact center of his map was the Naval Radio Station, a major relay station
on the south peak.

It had been long thought that Zodiac might be a naval man who was out to
sea in between murders and letters and thus remained undetected. It was a
tantalizing idea. Was the maniac a worker at the station while on shore? Did
he stand like a king on top of the double-peaked mountain at night, the Bay
Area spread beneath his feet, surrounded by a sky filled with all the actual
symbols of astrology? After the Civil War Mt. Diablo was used to plot
longitude and latitude for the Bay Area.

Here is the two-line cipher Zodiac included at the end of the letter that was
to be used in tandem with the map:

CAJ I O O * x A Ml A no R t &

X0FOVIBHC C L > P W A

Friday, July 24, 1970

The writing of the next two Zodiac letters, I speculate^ went like this:

The stocky man began to write with a frenzy. Crouched in the silence of his
basement, he donned his gloves and took up his felt-tip pen. Outside the day
was bright; here, he was cloaked in gloom, a blackness that clung to every
corner of his work area punctuated only by one strange light.

His twelfth letter read:

This is the Zodiac speaking I am rather unhappy because you people will
not wear some nice -fe- buttons. So I now have a little list, starting with the
woeman & her baby that I gave a rather interesting ride for a coupple
howers one evening a few months back that ended in my burning her car
where I found them.

The "woeman" could only be Kathleen Johns. Kathleen's terror ride had
received scant attention in only one small paper. Zodiac's mention of her
would seem to authenticate him as the man who rode with her and her
daughter.

The stocky man mailed this letter. Then he began work on the longest letter
he was to write to the Chronicle.

"This is the Zodiac speaking/' he began the thirteenth letter (reprinted

completely here for the first time), as usual. Again he mentioned how angry
he was that the people of San Francisco weren't wearing Zodiac buttons on
their lapels, even "nasty" buttons or "any type" of Zodiac buttons.

He paused. How could he show his displeasure, his boiling fury at being
ignored? His blue pen moved across the bond paper as fast as his strange
method of writing would allow.

"I" he wrote, and this was a large and bold /, second in size only to the Z in
Zodiac at the top of the page.

I shall (on top of every thing else) torture all 13 of my slaves that I have
wateing for me in Paradicc. Some I shall tie over ant hills and watch them
scream & twich and squirm. Others shall have pine splinters driven under
their nails & then burned. Others shall be placed in cages & fed salt

beef untill they are gorged then I shall listen to their plcass for water and I
shall laugh at them. Others will hang by their thumbs & burn in the sun then
I wiD rub them down deep heat to warm them up. Others I shall skin them
alive 6V let them run around screaming. And . . .

Here he began to quote Gilbert and Sullivan, changing the lyrics to fit his
own meanings. The stanzas he set down were from The Mikado, sung by
the Mikado himself. In a spin-off of 'The Punishment Fit the Crime,"
Zodiac wrote:

all billiard players I shall have them play in a dark ened dungen all with
crooked cues & Twisted Shoes. Yes I shall have great fun inflicting the
most delicious of pain to my Slaves

The Zodiac symbol had now grown to mammoth proportions and filled the
bottom of the page, eclipsing the notation:

SFPD = 0, Zodiac - 13.

The stocky figure hunched over his work and, this time paraphrasing Ko-
Ko in The Mikado, wrote of a little list of all the people he would like to
kill:
As some day it may hapen that a victom must be found. I've got a little list
I've got a little list, of society offenders who might well be

underground who would never be missed who would never be missed.

There is the pest-ulentual nucences who whnte for autographs, all people
who have flabby hands and irritating laughs. All children who are up in
dates and implore you with im platt. All people who are shakeing hands
shake hands like that. And all third persons who with unspoiling take thoes
who insist. They'd none of them be missed. They'd none of them be missed.
There's the banjo seranader and the others of his race and the piano orginast
I got him on the list. All people who eat pepermint and phomphit [puff it] in
your face, they would never be missed They would never be missed And
the Idiout who phraises with in-thusastic tone of centuries but this and
every country but his own. And the lady from the provences who dress like
a guy who doesn't cry and the singurry abnormity the girl who never kissed.
I don't think she would be missed Im shure she wouldn't be missed. And
that nice impriest that u rather rife the judicial hummerest I've got him on
the list All funny fellows, commie men and downs of private life. They'd
none of them be missed. They'd none of them be

154

OceanofPDF.com
who, bat the tak of fiftag up the bfanb I rather lewe ap to you. Bat it reaBy
doesn't antler whom you pbee the fat for none of

be

! concluded the Lord High Executioner's aria with; symbol, which took up
three-quarters of the Bit

Below this he wrote a hint about the Mt Diablo map and cipher of exactly
one m o nth <

PS The Mt Diablo Code

& # inches alone the

Monday, Jury 27, 1970

The letters arrived limiillwiwlj at the Chunkk.

Late Monday and Tuesday and Wednesday, Zodiac hear in the media of his
latest threats. But there ws not a word What had gone wrong? Both letters
couldn't have been lost in the maiL

August and September gave way to early October, almost the anniversary of
Paul Strne's murder. There was stifl no mention of the new Zodiac letters.
The mass kUkr had no way of kno w ing that on July 27 the police and the
Chronicle had deckled to
conduct an experiment to see how Zodiac would react to the lack of
publicity* It was felt Zodiac's thirst for publicity had become his motive for
killing.

Because of the variations from Gilbert's original lyrics, Armstrong and

Toschi knew their man wrote the lines from memory rather than copying
them directly from the libretto. They began a painstaking search and
questioning of onetime Ko-Kos, on the theory that Zodiac may have played
the character in his student days. The detectives began with San Francisco's
own Gilbert and Sullivan company, The Lamplighters, and questioned all
members of the cast, especially the bass-baritones. Handwriting
comparisons and obvious differences in physical appearance with Zodiac
cleared all present and former Lord High Executioners. Toschi ventured that
it was more likely that the killer was just a Gilbert and Sullivan buff.

I discovered that on the night of Paul Stine's murder The Lamplighters at

Presentation Theatre were in rehearsal for The Mikado, due to open a week
later. The theater was roughly thirteen blocks from the site of die cabdriver's
murder.

Even more intriguing was the fact that during the entire run of the local
Mikado, no Zodiac letter was received. The production closed on Friday,
November 7. On the following two days, two Zodiac letters were mailed.

Zodiac wrote four letters over a four-month period after the attack on
Kathleen Johns, mostly pleas for attention. Only in the fourth letter was the
terror ride finally mentioned. Why mention it now? The Chronicle was not
printing his letters, and the police were openly skeptical that Zodiac was
actually killing anyone. Perhaps the killer reached for something concrete
that would prove he was active. He had mentioned:

... the woeman & baby that I gave a rather interesting ride for a coupple
howers one evening a few months back that ended in my burning her car . .
.

•The July letter* were finally published on October 12, 1970, by the
Chronicle.
What, I wondered, made this particular event come into? Zodiac's mind if
he was not the actual attacker? Only the small circulation Modesto Bee, in a
story the day after the attack, had mentioned the fact that Kathleen's car had
been torched. If Zodiac was only taking credit for the attack, then he had to
live close enough to Modesto to have seen the article.

My guess was that Zodiac had held back from claiming this crime because
he really was the driver and he had been afraid of what Kathleen might
remember and that she might be able to lead police to his door.*

Kathleen Johns at this time went underground. It was not until February 18,
1982, that I was able to find her.

Wednesday, October 6, 1970

In the morning mail the Chronicle received a plain, white, three-inch-by-

five-inch file card on which the author had composed a message using cut
up letters from the previous day's Chronicle. He had drawn a cross in blood.
The message was dated Monday, October 5, 1970. It read:

DEAR EDITOR:

You'll hate me, but I've got to tell you.

THE PACE ISNT ANY SLOWER! IN

FACT ITS JUST ONE BIG thirteenth

13 'Some of Them Fought

It was Horrible'

Beneath the "13" was a cross drawn in human blood and a P.S. pasted
upside down on the left side of the card:

•Zodiac had a habit of writing letters on the anniversary of his attacks and
murders and had written a letter exactly one year from the day of the
killings on Lake Herman Road. On March 22, 1971, the one-year
anniversary of the attack on Kathleen, Zodiac would write another letter.
THERE ARE REPORTS city police pig cops are closeing in on me, Fk I'm
crackproof, What is the price tag now?

The word "Zodiac" in roman type was on the right with a large Zodiac
symbol, the cross segment made by strips of tape. The writer had punched
thirteen holes in the side of the card to represent victims.

Armstrong and Toschi believed it was a genuine Zodiac letter for almost
two days, but eventually they filed it as another copycat effort.

The Zodiac evidence now filled a gunmetal-gray fireproof steel cabinet four
drawers high.

Wednesday, October 28, 1970

Paul Avery, the Chronicle's top investigative reporter, had written the bulk
of the stories concerning the Zodiac murders. Thus he was not surprised
when the next letter from the killer, his fifteenth, was addressed not to the
Chronicle but to Avery personally.

This time Zodiac had mailed a garish children's Halloween card. On the
front was a dancing skeleton with a pumpkin, black and orange, and with
white lettering, in boldface, that said:

FROM YOUR SECRET PAL

At the lower left of the card was a verse that began:

I fed it in my bones, You ache to know my name,

And so I'll clue you in . .

Avery's throat went dry. With anxious fumbling fingers he shed to open the
card to read the punchline.

But then why spoil our game! BOO!

Happy
Halloween!

Inside, Zodiac had pasted a totally different skeleton, a portion of another

card, and had drawn exaggerated pictures of peering eyes. Some of the eyes
were peeking out of slits. Along with the giant Z and the familiar crossed-
circle, the killer had drawn a strange new symbol that at first appeared to be
composed of meteorological symbols.

Zodiac had lettered on the back, in white ink such as artists and
draughtsmen use:

When Toschi and Armstrong were able to get the card away from Avery,
they turned their attention to the skeleton that

Zodiac had cut out and pasted inside the card. Carefully, they pulled it up to
sec if there was a message behind it. There was not.

But on the inner side of the envelope itself there was fine writing. The
writing made an X. It said, twice, "sorry no cipher."

"We would check out all the greeting cards as Zodiac sent them just to see
how common they were and how easy or difficult it would be for Zodiac to
buy one," Toschi told me later. "All the cards sent by Zodiac were common
cards that could be purchased in any retail card store. That I checked on my
own time, Saturday or Sundays. I just wanted to be sure. Sometimes I did it
just to be sure we weren't making it easy for Zodiac to make us look bad."

I obtained a duplicate of the Halloween card in its original unmarked state

and realized that Zodiac had added the cutout orange pumpkin to cover the
pelvis of the skeleton on the front. Sexual repression?

The card had come originally with only one peering "evil eye." Zodiac had
added twelve more, and had given the printed skeleton eyes as well. The
cutout skeleton on the inside was portrayed in a posture of mock
crucifixion. The card was manufactured by the Gibson card company.

As for the new Zodiac symbol, readers as far away as Detroit wrote to say
that it represented a Wide Flange Beam, a structural steel shape used in
building construction. Some felt that Zodiac was some sort of civil
engineer. The symbol looked like this:

^*^

By writing "PEEKABOO—YOU ARE DOOMED!" and "4-TEEN" on the

card to Avery, Zodiac was either boasting that he had victim number
fourteen already or that Avery was to be next.

The Chronicle released the story on page one on Halloween, and it received
worldwide attention. The cityroom was filled with

television cameras for a while and the light-haired, lanky Avery found
himself, for a change, on the other end of an interview.

As a result, there was a flurry of tips, which pleased the police. When asked
by reporters if he was concerned about the Halloween death threat, Avery
replied that he considered it "just a lot of talk."

As a former war correspondent in Vietnam and a licensed private eye,

Avery could handle himself pretty weD. But Chief Nelder decided not to
take any chances and issued him authority to carry a .38 caliber revolver,
and let him work out on the police target range with the gun.

"Chron Newsman Paul Avery is living dangerously," wrote Herb Caen, "His
investigative reporting into the activities of the Zodiac killer have won him
the accolade of a message from Zodiac, warning 'You are doomed,' as a
result of which several Chron newsmen—including Avery—are wearing
lapel buttons reading 'I Am Not Paul Avery.' Meanwhile, Avery has applied
for personalized license plates reading ^Zodiac/ and that isn't the smartest
move I ever heard of. .

"It looks like Zodiac has gotten sore at some of the things I have written
about him," said AveTy.

In response to a wire service story about the threat on Avery's life, an

anonymous letter was mailed to the Chronicle from southern California. In
the letter was the suggestion that Zodiac may have begun his career of
murder in Riverside, California.

The anonymous writer said that he had gone to the Riverside police with his
theory b«t had been ignored. He asked Avery to look into the possibility:

Please forward the contents of this letter to the detective in charge of 'The
Zodiac Murder ©ase."

I hope this information will also help you, as we both would like to see this
case solved.

As for myself, I wish to remain anonymous and I know that you will
understand why!

A few yean ago in Riverside, California, a young girl was murdered, just
about, I believe, on "Halloween" evening! I could write a much

longer letter, citing the similarities between Zodiac's case and this murder,
which occurred in Riverside but if the police department cannot see said
comparative similarities between these two cases, then I will take a "slow
boat to China/' even if these crimes were committed by two different
people! I think, after all the facts are studied, regarding both these cases, if
the police have not already investigated these possibilities and are not
already aware of the "Riverside case," then, even so perhaps they should
look into it. . . .

Letters to newspapers, "similar erratic printing" find out about these two
different cases— Give Captain Cross a call on the phone, he knows that "I
do not quit."

Mr. Avery, I will give you a call in the near future, please look into this
case, the Riverside police have a wealth of information, so does San
Francisco, let us hope they are not too proud to work together, and if they
already are, let us hope there has been an exchange of information. . . .

Checking with Riverside Police Captain Irv Cross, Avery was able to learn
the name of the secret writer. His only address was "general delivery" in an
ever changing number of cities. (This man also had written Sergeant Lynch.
His handprinting did not match Zodiac's.) Cross said that for some time the
man had been trying to convince the Riverside police that Zodiac had
murdered a college girl in 1966. Cross outlined the case to the reporter and
promised to get an assortment of file material off to him as soon as possible.

Avery was dubious about the connection at first; while there were
similarities to the known Zodiac killings, there was no definite link.

This letter was only one of hundreds that Avery had gotten from people
who either "knew" who Zodiac was or "knew" how to trap him.

Cheri Jo Bates

Monday, November 9, 1970

Avery finally received the information on the Riverside killing, the only
unsolved murder in Riverside history. Among the reports on the girl's
murder had been a photograph of a handprinted letter received five months
after the killing. The police had considered it only another fraudulent
message from some crank; at the time, the signature at the bottom had
meant nothing to them. The author had signed his message with a single
letter: Z.

In two hours, Avery was on his way to Riverside, sixty-two miles southeast
of Los Angeles. Avery met with Detective Sergeant Dave Bonine, the chief
investigator presently assigned to the case, and was allowed access to the
files. The victim was Cheri Jo Bates. Since her murder over four years ago,
the case file, # 3 5 2 481, had become voluminous. In conference with
Bonine and Captain Cross, Avery began to reconstruct the dead girl's last
day in detail. Inwardly, Avery felt that Zodiac had written the penciled note
and could be Cheri Jo's slayer.

According to the police reports, Cheri Jo had been an eighteen-year-old

college freshman, an honor student, whose main ambi-
tion had been to become an airline stewardess. She had been a cheerleader
at Ramona High near Riverside City College and was one at RCC. The
victim was five foot three inches tall, weighed 110 pounds, had blue eyes,
blond hair, and a fair complexion, although at the time of her death she was
deeply tanned. She wore glasses, but only for studying. She had lived alone
with her father, Joseph, at 4195 Via San Jose in Riverside. Joseph was a
machinist at the Corona Naval Ordnance Laboratory. Her mother had left in
1965, and her brother was serving in the Navy in Florida.

The day of the murder, October 30, 1966, Joseph and his daughter attended
Mass at St. Catherine's Church on Brockton. At 9:00 a.m., they ate
breakfast at Sandy's Restaurant in Hard-man Center. At 10:00, Joseph left
the house to spend the day at the beach. About 3:00 p.m., Chen Jo called
her friend Stefanie. There was no answer. She called again at 3:45. This
time Stefanie was home. Cheri Jo asked if she wanted to go to the college
library to get some books and study a little. Stephanie declined, and Cheri
Jo left the house somewhere between 4:30 and 5:00. At 4:30, some of her
friends had passed Cheri Jo's house and noticed her lime-green Volkswagen
still parked in front. At 5:00, Joseph Bates returned home.

When Cheri Jo left the house, she was wearing a pair of faded red capri
pants and a long-sleeved pale yellow blouse with a ribbon tie at the throat.
She carried an oversize red-and-tan woven straw bag. On her feet were
white sandals with straps around the heels and between the first and second
toes.

"At 5:00 p.m., Joseph Bates found this note taped to the refrigerator,"
Captain Cross told Avery. He handed the reporter a plastic-covered note. It
read: "Dad—Went to RCC Library."

"Joseph took a phone message for Cheri Jo from Stephanie and went
directly out again," said Cross. "At approximately 5:30, Cheri Jo noticed
that she had misplaced her term paper bibliography and called a co-worker,
Donna, at the Riverside National Bank. Donna hadn't seen it; the two talked
for a while."

"Now m have to start all over on my note cards," Cheri Jo told her.
"We have a witness report," said Bonine, "that at 6:10 p.m.

one of Chcri Jo's girl friends saw her go by in ber V.W. headed over toward
RCC on Magnolia. The friend said she waved to her but evidently Cheri Jo
didn't see her, she didn't wave back

"Another report came from an Air Force man who lived near the library. He
was passed by a light green V.W. driven by a blond female up an alley
parallel to Magnolia and east of the Sherri Lynn Apartments. He recalled
that the V. W. was followed closely by a 1965-66 bronze Oldsmobile

"We figure Cheri Jo arrived at the RCC library annex around six and went
into the library. She had friends studying in the library, but none of them
recall seeing her. We know she actually entered the library only because of
three books on the Electoral College she checked out, which were found on
the front seat of her car. Evidently, while she was in the library the assailant
gained access to the engine and pulled out the distributor coil and the
condensor, and disconnected the middle wire of the distributor. He may
have actually gone into the library and waited while she ran the battery
down, trying to start the engine.

"He probably came up and offered help, offered her a lift in his car. . Then
he got her to go down the unlit gravel road to the parking lot, about
seventy-five yards east of her car. The killer then placed one hand over her
mouth and with the other pressed a knife against her throat.

"He must have begun choking her," said Bonine, "but she was an athletic
girl and fought back with such force that we found his paint-spattered
wristwatch where she had ripped it off.

"She scratched his face. She must have screamed then. We have a report. ...
A neighbor heard an 'awful scream' between 10:15 and 10:45 p.m., and then
about two minutes of silence, and finally the sound of an old car starting up.
A man returning to the area at 10.30 told us he heard two screams then "

The medical report said that Cheri Jo had been kicked in the head. A short
knife had been plunged into her chest twice. Her left cheek and upper lip
were cut, and in three slashes to her throat her jugular was severed as well
as her voice box, and she was almost decapitated. She was face down on the
ground when the killer plunged the knife into her left shoulder blade. "The

chumed-up ground where they had struggled looked like a freshly plowed
field/' read the notation.

Police theorized the killer spent time looking for his watch before taking off
for his car.

"It was midnight when Joseph Bates returned home and found a note he had
left for Cheri Jo undisturbed. He figured his daughter was out with her girl
friends, and went to sleep. Next morning she still wasn't home, so he called
Stephanie to see if she was there. He reported his daughter missing at
exactly 5:43 a.m. Forty-five minutes later, Halloween morning, Cleophus
Martin, the groundskeeper at RCC, turned his sweeping machine onto
Terracina. He saw the body, lying face down, her straw purse next to her.
He called us. We roped off the area.

'The girl's purse still contained all of her I.D. and fifty-six cents. Ten feet
away from the body we found the killer's Timex watch with a seven-inch
circumference. The black band was broken away from one side of the face.

"We found a shoe print of a type of shoe sold only in military outlets such
as nearby March A.F.B. It was size eight to ten, and produced by
Leavenworth prisoners.

"We found debris, scrapings of human skin and hair, under her nails. On the
front seat we found the greasy prints of a palm. And on the top of a nearby
building/' said Bonine, "we found a set of V.W. keys—but these were of no
relation to the Bates murder."

Avery scanned the autopsy report, made several notes, shut his notebook,
and replaced it in his inside jacket pocket. The earliest the girl could have
been killed would have been 9:00 Sunday night, when the library closed.
The "awful scream" was heard around 10:30 and is most likely when she
was killed. Questions flooded Avery's mind: Did Cheri Jo stand with her
killer for nearly two hours in the darkness between the two deserted frame
houses? Did they talk and did she know her killer? What was the killer
waiting for?

The report said the knife used by the killer had a blade one and one-half
inches wide and was three and one-half inches long. Drops of blood led
from the murder site to Terracina.

I Avery was told that just twenty-four hours after the slaying, loss and his
men had already interrogated seventy-five people and were checking
military men from the nearby air base as well as Cheri Jo's fellow students
and teachers. The most promising suspect was a local youth who knew the
pretty cheerleader. A good case of circumstantial evidence could be built
against the local youth, but nothing substantial enough to hold up in court.
Cross and Bonine believed that he was guilty. Avery wondered if he could
place this man in northern California at the time of the Zodiac killings.

Five days after the attack, Cheri )o was buried. While hundreds mourned at
the funeral, homicide detectives worked their way through the crowd
scanning faces for any sign of the killer. "Joseph Bates collapsed at the end
of the service," said Cross. "He was crying out, 4 My girl! My girl!' "

"Nine days after the funeral," said Bonine, "Captain Cross asked all persons
who had been in the library on the night of the murder to recreate their
movements. That was sixty-five people.

"We had them wear the same clothes, sit in the same seats, park in the same
places. Captain Cross' own car doubled for the Bates auto. We asked them
what time they arrived, what people they saw outside, where they parked,
and what vehicles they noticed. We asked them to tell us if they recalled
seeing anyone who was here the night of the killing and who didn't come in
to be questioned We tape-recorded all interviews. The captain himself took
fingerprints and a lock of hair from each man. The FBI got the prints and
we sent the hair samples to ClArl.

"We got two missing: a woman and a heavyset young man about five feet
eleven inches tall, with a beard. We were out to find any young man with
scratches on his face."
Bonine looked down at the file and shook his head.

"We never found either of them, or the '47-52 tan-gray Stude-baker with
oxidized paint that was seen that night."

At a second briefing Avery was told about a "confession" the cops received.
"We think die kiDer has a pretty thorough knowledge of identification
techniques," said Bonine. "He devised a method

that would frustrate the best of experts. It went something like this: First he
set his typewriter to all caps. Then he made a book of typewriter paper and
carbon, about thirteen pages of paper, twelve of carbon. By sending one of
the last copies of the letter, he insured that there would be no prints and that
the type would be so blurred that identification of the make of typewriter
would be tough."

He opened his top drawer and passed Avery a photocopy. "This has never
been printed in its entirety before."*

SHE WAS YOUNG AND BEAUTIFUL

BUT NOW SHE IS BATTERED AND

DEAD. SHE IS NOT THE FIRST

AND SHE WILL NOT BE THE LAST

I LAY AWAKE NIGHTS THINKING ABOUT MY

NEXT VICTIM. MAYBE SHE WILL BE THE

BEAUTIFUL BLOND THAT BABYSITS NEAR

THE LITTLE STORE AND WALKS DOWN THE

DARK ALLEY EACH EVENING ABOUT SEVEN.

OR MAYBE SHE WILL BE THE SHAPELY BLUE

EYED BRUNETT THAT SAID NO WHEN I

ASKED HER FOR A DATE IN HIGH SCHOOL.

BUT MAYBE IT WILL NOT BE EITHER. BUT I

SHALL CUT OFF HER FEMALE PARTS AND

DEPOSIT THEM FOR THE WHOLE CITY TO SEE.

SO DONT MAKE IT SO EASY FOR ME. KEEP

YOUR SISTERS, DAUGHTERS, AND WIVES OFF

THE STREETS AND ALLEYS.

MISS BATES WAS STUPID. SHE WENT TO

THE SLAUGHTER LIKE A LAMB SHE DID

NOT PUT UP A STRUGGLE. BUT I DID.

IT WAS A BALL.

I FIRST PULLED THE MIDDLE WIRE

FROM THE DISTRIBUTOR. THEN I WAITED FOR

HER IN THE LIBRARY AND FOLLOWED HER OUT

*I obtained a complete copy only with the use of a magnifying glass and a
copy of a photo of a desk at Riverside PD on which the confession was
propped Narlow could not show me his copy, but proofread mine and said it
was correct.

^R ABOUT TWO MINUTES THE BATTERY MUST I BEEN ABOUT

DEAD BY THEN. I THEN w, ■ ~RED TO HELP SHE WAS THEN VERY
WILLING
JTO TALK WITH ME I TOLD HER THAT MY CAR WAS DOWN THE
STREET AND THAT I WOULD GIVE HER A LIFT HOME WHEN WE
WERE AWAY FROM THE LIBRARY WALKING, I SAID IT WAS
ABOUT TIME. SHE ASKED ME, ABOUT TIME FOR WHAT?' I SAID
IT WAS ABOUT TIME FOR YOU TO DIE I GRABBED HER AROUND
THE NECK WITH MY HAND OVER HER MOUTH AND MY OTHER
HAND WITH A SMALL KNIFE AT HER THROAT SHE WENT VERY
WILLINGLY. HER BREAST FELT VERY WARM AND FIRM

, UNDER MY HANDS, BUT ONLY ONE THING WAS ON MY MIND.

MAKING HER PAY FOR THE BRUSH OFFS THAT SHE HAD GIVEN
ME DURING THE YEARS PRIOR SHE DIED HARD SHE SQUIRMED
AND SHOOK AS I CHOKED HER, AND HER LIPS TWITCHED SHE
LET OUT A SCREAM ONCE AND I KICKED HER HEAD TO SHUT
HER UP I PLUNGED THE KNIFE INTO HER AND IT BROKE. I THEN
FINISHED THE JOB BY CUTTING HER THROAT. I AM NOT SICK I
AM INSANE BUT THAT WILL NOT STOP THE GAME. THIS LETTER
SHOULD BE PUBLISHED FOR ALL TO READ IT IT JUST MIGHT
SAVE THAT GIRL IN THE ALLEY. BUT THATS UP TO YOU. IT WILL
BE ON YOUR CONSCIENCE NOT MINE. YES, I DID MAKE THAT
CALL TO YOU ALSO IT WAS JUST A WARNING. BEWARE I AM
STALKING YOUR GIRLS NOW CC. CHIEF OF POLICE

ENTERPRISE

That the killer mentioned "the game," insisted the letter must be published,
and called the police about the crime were all trademarks of the Zodiac
killer.

"The killer mailed this letter from a secluded rural mailbox, unstamped. We
never had any doubt that they were from Cheri

Jo's murderer because of the top secret details he included, princi-pally the
ripped-out middle wire of the V.W.'s distributor/' said Bonine.

The Riverside Press-Enterprise ran an article on the Bates case exactly six
months after Cheri Jo's death. The following day, the police received a new
letter from the killer. Avery was shown a crudely penciled note on a piece
of common three-holed binder paper. In large sprawling letters that tilted
downward toward the! left was this message:

BATES HAD TO DIE THERE WILL BE MORE

At the bottom of the blue-lined paper was a small number 2 or the letter Z.
The envelope carried two four-cent Lincoln stamps, double the postage. The
letter had been placed into Cheri Jo's file but had been considered crank
mail and not connected with the confession letter in any way.

Avery was left alone to go through the Bates file. He soon made the
discovery that there were two other identical "Bates must die" letters. One
was addressed to the Press-Enterprise and the j other, cruelly, to Joseph
Bates.

Avery uncovered a photo of a desk top discovered five months after the
murder by a custodian at the RCC library in a storage area. It had been
defaced with a gruesome poem (reproduced for the first time), five inches
deep by three and seven-eighth inches wide, etched into the varnished
surface in blue ballpoint pen:

Sick of living/ unwilling to die

cut.

clean.

if red/

clean.

blood spurting

dripping, spilling; all aver her new

dress.

oh weD,
it was red

anyway.

life draining into an

uncertain death.

she won't

die.

this time

Someone 11 find her

just wait till

next time.

This was different from the other sick letters the department had gotten
since Cheri Jo's death; this one was signed. At the bottom of the bloody
verse were two lower-case letters, r and k

In conference with Cross, Avery pointed out that the penciled printing on
the "Bates must die" notes was similar to the recent blue felt-tip pen
lettering of the Zodiac messages to the Chronicle, and that the printing on
the notes matched almost exactly the writing on the desk top. The reporter
was able to convince Cross and Bonine to activate the Bates investigation in
association with the Zodiac case.

It was decided that Avery would hand carry the evidence to Sacramento in
sealed envelopes (to maintain the chain of evidence) and deliver it to
Sherwood Morrill, expert for the Bureau of Criminal Identification and
Investigation, Questioned Documents. Avery phoned Morrill at his home
and asked to meet him at the Sacramento airport.

Thursda;
ly, November 12, 1970

Avery boarded the plane for Sacramento carrying the actual letters and
envelopes from Cheri Jo's killer, and a photo of the desk top poem. Morrill
was waiting anxiously for him. He did a preliminary examination on the
spot. The carbon copy letters were "very

dim" and made identification of the typewriter and typeface next to

impossible/

Avery then produced the handprinted pencil letters he had found in the
police file. After a moment, the handprinting expert spoke.

'This doesn't look anything like Zodiac's writing/' he said.

The expert then looked at the envelope to the penciled message.

'This begins to look alike now/' Morrill said.

He stared at the envelope. "Yes, this is what gives it away. The Riverside
letters were by the same person who wrote the Zodiac letters in northern
California/'

Morrill also took the initial at the bottom of the note to be a Z. He said, "I'll
get hold of Armstrong and Toschi on this."

But Avery was excited now and left immediately for San Francisco,
notifying Armstrong before Morrill could.

Morrill, a consumate technician, also had the forethought to get samples of

Avery's own handprinting to check against the printing on the Riverside
letters. Avery checked out clean.

Monday, November 16, 1970

Morrill notified Avery that after four days of study he could say that the
printing specimens on the letters discovered in Riverside were
"unquestionably the work of Zodiac. The handprinting scratched on the
desk is the same as on the three letters, particularly like that on the
envelopes, and this handprinting is by the same person who has been
preparing the Zodiac letters that have been received by the Chronicle. "

Avery wrote an article on the findings of his Riverside trip. It was printed in
Tuesday's Chronicle under the banner: "Zodiac Link Is Definite."

Cross opened the Bates case on a full-scale basis, but said it was

•Morrill later d is cover e d that the typewriter used was a portable Royal,
Canterbury, shaded with Elite type.

sable that the "Zodiac was just tTying to capitalize on pabK-After all, the
letters were received seven months after the

"A suspect had been in jail, is now out on bail, but there has never been
enough evidence to convict him of the Bates murder," said Cross "I'm not a
handwriting expert, but it seems to me altogether possible that whoever this
Zodiac is he could have read about the Bates slaying, noted it was unsolved,
and could have sent those letters to claim oedit for it without having had
anything to do with it Please note the Bates girl was killed in October 1966
and those letters came in April 1967. There was nothing in the letters to
indicate that our local boy didn't do it"

Thursday, November 19, 1970

Avery wrote another story for the Chronicle about a closed conference in
Riverside attended by homicide detectives for San Francisco, Sacramento,
and Napa. The nine-hour meeting was a direct result of Avery's discovery of
what he called "the Riverside Connection."

\Mien the meeting was over, Cross, Toschi, Narlow, and Inspector Mel
Nicolai of CI&I were secretive about what had been dii ciMed . Avery 4gas
able to discover that the "consensus of the detectives was that at one time
Zodiac had close ties to Riverside." Cecelia Ann Shepard, the Berryessa
victim, had been a student at Riverside. The most curious aspect of the
Bates murder was the lack of a boast from Zodiac, who in the past never
failed to quickly brag about his murders. Did he refuse to take credit for
Cheri Jo's murdeT because he had made some slip-up. left some clue behind
that could incriminate him 7

Because of the desk-top poem, the police knew that Zodiac was in the RCC
library "prior or subsequent to the crime." The most obvious blunder on the
part of the mass slayer would be the initials at the bottom of the gory verse.
Who was "r h."? Or did the initials stand for red herring? Or did thev stand
for the blood factor RH'

Tuesday, November 24, 1970

Twelve days earlier, Morrill had received seven handwriting samples of the
man Riverside police believed was the Bates killer. Now, he had finished
his examination of them. There was no match.

Friday, November 27, 1970

Police announced that "a state expert has compared our main suspect's
handprinting and ruled that it is not the same as Zodiac's. But that does not
mean that our local man did not kill the girl. It merely means that the
Riverside man is not the Zodiac."

Monday, March 15, 1971

In the period after Zodiac's death threat against him, Paul Avery had gone
on local TV and taunted the killer, reassured by the weight of the .38 in a
concealed holster under his jacket. On January 3, 1971, after he had to draw
his gun to save a vagrant from a knife attack, he began to have second
thoughts. "By carrying a gun I was putting myself in a position, where
sooner or later I'd have to use it," he told me. "I finally got rid of it."

Four months after Avery exposed Zodiac's "Riverside Connection," the Los
Angeles Times received its first letter from the Cipher Slayer.
For the first time, the envelope had a non-San Francisco postmark. It had
been mailed from Pleasanton, a small town in nearby Alameda County.
Once again there was double postage on the envelope, two six-cent
Roosevelts inverted, and the exhortation: Please Rush to Editor. The word
"AIR Mail" took up one-third of the envelope. It was his sixteenth letter. He
had chosen the paper with the largest circulation in California.

As always, he began: 'This is the Zodiac speaking."

Like I have always said I am crack proof. If the Blue Meannies are evere
going to catch me, they had best get of! their fat asses & do something.
Because the longer they fiddle & fart* around, the more slaves I will collect
for my after life. I do have to give them credit for stumbling across my
riverside activity, but they are only finding the easy ones, there are a hell of
a lot more down there. The reason that Im writing to the Times is this, They
don't bury me on the back pages like some of the others. SFPD-O 4^-17+

Some of the Bay Area psychiatrists Avery spoke with felt that Zodiac was
claiming new victims only on paper. "Zodiac's boasts of ever increasing
totals of 'slaves/ " said one, "may be just that: boasts."

Boasts or not, Toschi and Armstrong still had to do the same backbreaking
amount of work.

Near Pacific Union College, a girl's car had been discovered on the White
Cottage Road turnout. Two pieces of her gold-colored jump suit were
nearby; her portable radio on the car seat was still going. Groups of twenty-
one PUC students, Bryan Hartnell among them, began a foot search. As
snow fell and the morning temperatures dropped, a bloodhound was
brought in. Because of the very rugged canyon area, it was eight days
before the body was found. It was only 225 feet away from the abandoned
car, near

•This phrase, "fiddle 67 fart around/' is an antiquated one and led

investigators to suspect Zodiac was a much older man than they had
thought I learned that it is used in areas of Texas, principally around
Lubbock County.
Mountain Road, under a layer of brush and logs and a torn barracks bag. It
was wrapped in an American flag. The body was badly bruised, and there
was the bloody mark of a blow on the left side of her head next to her long
black hair. A wire noose had been twisted tightly around her neck. A
bracelet she had used as a key ring was found; all of the keys had been
taken by the killer. Like Cecelia Shepard, she'd been killed in an isolated
wooded area.

Even though the victim, Lynda Kanes, twenty, was the second PUC coed
murdered in the last two years, Sheriff Earl Randol assured the students that
they were "not marked for murder." Randol told the students that there was
nothing to connect Zodiac to this recent murder.

There was a suspect in St. Helena, a search warrant was issued, the man's
house was gone over, a number of unidentified articles were removed for
inspection. But nothing came of it.

Monday, March 22, 1971

Only a week later, a common four-cent postcard arrived at the Chronicle. It

was once again addressed to "Paul Averly" and covered with more
newspaper cutouts of pictures and phrases.

The phrases "Sought victim 12," "peek through the pines," "pass LAKE
TAHOE areas," "Sierra Club," and "around in the snow" had been cut from
the newspaper and glued down. Zodiac had decorated the edges with half-
moon cuts made by a conductor's punch. Pasted to the back of the card was
an artist's rendering of what was later discovered to be an ad for Forrest
Pines, a condominium village currently under development near Incline
Village on the north shore of Lake Tahoe, Nevada.

Victim number twelve, therefore, may have been Donna Lass, twenty-five,
a pretty nurse with frosted blond hair, who had been missing since
September 6,1970, after she left work at the Sahara Hotel in Stateline,
Nevada. The casino nurse's car was found parked near her small apartment,
but there was no sign of any struggle and only her purse and the clothes she
was wearing were
missing. An unidentified male caller had told Donna's landlord and
employer on the day she vanished that she would not be returning because
of an illness in her family. The police were advised by the family that there
was no illness; the call was a lie.

By telephone, detectives in San Francisco and Nevada tried to divine the

meaning of the enigmatic "around in the snow." And had Donna been killed
and buried near the new development? The ad for the condos had run in the
Chronicle two days before.

Morrill reported to Toschi that the inked words on the address side of the
card "conform and are consistent with all other [Zodiac] writings I have
examined."

"Since we haven't any other suspect in the case," said South Lake Tahoe
Police Chief Ray Lauritzen, "I suppose the Zodiac theory is as good as any.
We most certainly are checking into this possibility because of the postcard
sent to the Chronicle. From the beginning we have believed Miss Lass was
abducted and is dead. It is not her character to 'drop out'—she was, in the
true sense of the word, a 'good' girl."

Friday, March 25, 1971

The search for the body was postponed because of snowfall drifts, and it
was beginning to snow again. No formal hunt for the young nurse's body
was really ever made. Donna Lass has never been found.

Toschi wondered if the phrase "Peek through the pines" was an invitation
by the killer to look through the pine trees in the drawing and find where
the girl was buried. Ominously, in the foreground was a man digging with a
shovel.

"No one ever asked me. I was surprised the police never asked me any
questions," Donna Lass' former roommate, Jo Anne, told me years later. I
had asked her if Donna had any ties to Riverside. She explained that she
and Donna used to go flying with two men from Riverside when they lived
in San Francisco. The police had never made a connection with Donna Lass
and San Francisco.
"Donna and I worked Letterman General Hospital on the

Presidio. Donna was at the Presidio until June of 1970 and then moved to
Lake Tahoe and vanished three months later," she confided.

There was the Presidio connection again. Paul Stine was killed near the
Presidio and Zodiac vanished into it. If Zodiac had continued northeast, he
would have come to 225 Mallorca Way, where Donna and Jo Anne were to
live a few months later. Is this near where the killer was living in 1969? Did
he meet Donna here, and then months later follow and Ml her in another
state?

Wednesday, April 7, 1981

I went to see a low-budget film about Zodiac at the Golden Gate Theater. It
played only one week and was seen by fewer than a thousand people. A
surly teamster (Bob Jones) is an early suspect in the film, but it is a young
man (Hal Reed) who is found to be Zodiac. The film ends by hinting that
Zodiac may be the man behind you in the theater.

Since Zodiac was a movie fan and an egotist and since the movie played
only to a limited audience in San Francisco, the chances he was in the seat
behind you were pretty good.

Chronicle reporter Duffy Jennings told me of a contest the producers of the

Zodiac movie devised inviting moviegoers to win a new motorcycle by
filling out cards telling in twenty-five words or iess "I Believe The Zodiac
Killed Because . . ."

"Thinking the real Zodiac might be curious and vain enough to see the film,
a huge carton was set up in the lobby for deposit of entries," wrote
Jennings, "and inside it crouched a man who read each card as it slipped
through the slot at the top. Ostensibly, he was to alert theater management
via intercom when he spotted a suspicious entry from someone claiming to
be the actual killer."

Even though no such message was dropped in the slot, the police studied all
cards for any similarities to Zodiac's printing.
The best Zodiac movie was made by Warners in 1971. Called Dirty Harry,
it starred Clint Eastwood as an Inspector Toschi-

type searching for a hooded sniper, "Scorpio" (Andy Robinson). It is

faithful to the facts in the Zodiac case and uses an exact copy of Zodiac's
printing in Scorpio's letters to the Chronicle.

Sunday, April 11, 1971

Dressed in blue jeans and a white blouse, carrying a paperback book and
binoculars, Kathy Bilek, eighteen, took the family car and drove to a county
park, Villa Montalvo, just outside the Saratoga city limits. She parked her
car in the arboretum parking lot and walked to a small stream where she
could read her gothic novel and birdwatch in the remote, heavily wooded
and untrav-eled area. This was the same place where two young girls,
Kathy Snoozy and Deborah Furlong, had been stabbed over three hundred
times August 3, 1969.

While she read, a figure appeared behind her and moved silently through
the tall grass until she was within his reach. With a short-bladed knife, he
stabbed her seventeen times in the back. As she fell, he struck her another
thirty-two times in her chest and stomach, avoiding her breasts.

When the girl was reported missing, the police found her car but were
unable to continue the search because of darkness. The hunt for the blond
high school student began again at dawn. Kathy's father, Charles, found her
body in the first light of morning while thirty sheriff's deputies searched
only yards away. She had been tossed into a shallow gully. When searchers
combed the area for clues the next day, they found remnants of her bloody
clothing.

Santa Clara autopsy surgeons linked the Easter homicide to the 1969
murders of Snoozy and Furlong, calling it a carbon-copy killing.

Two weeks later, police received a description of a suspicious man who

frequented the area where the killing had taken place. This led them to a
man, Karl F. Warner, with short blond hair and horn-rimmed glasses, who
had once attended Oak Grove High School with Snoozy and Furlong and
had lived three blocks

from their homes. He had also once been a suspect in a knife assault on a
woman.

Armed with a search warrant, detectives surprised Werner, a San Jose City
College student, studying for a physics exam. They recovered a knife from
him and then took the eighteen-year-old to the scenes of the crimes. In
September he pleaded guilty to all three knifings and was given a life
sentence.

However, Werner was not the Zodiac. He had been a transfer student from
Marlborough, Massachusetts, who had moved to California in early 1969
after the Zodiac murders had begun.

Wednesday, March 22, 1972

Armstrong and Toschi had good reason to sift carefully through their mail
this morning: it had been exactly one year since Zodiac had written.

They came up with nothing. Toschi, who by this time was becoming
increasingly haunted by the case, considered the possibility that Zodiac had
been killed in some accident or in the commission of one of his crimes.
Perhaps he had moved out of state; maybe he had worked out his hostility
and would kill no more. Or he could be in prison. Or in a mental institution.
But Toschi could not believe the supreme braggart could go without leaving
behind one last taunting message or some incriminating piece of evidence
—a gun, knife, cipher table, or at least the remaining portion of Stine's
blood-blackened shirt.

Toschi sensed that Zodiac was still alive and waiting.

Friday, April 7, 1972

At about 9:00 p.m., Isobel Watson, a thirty-three-year-old legal secretary in

San Francisco, got off the bus in Tamalpais Valley and began walking up
Pine Hill. Out of nowhere, a white Chevy swerved at her. The car stopped
and the driver leapt out. "I'm terribly sorry," he said, "Please let me drive
you home."

The driver was in his early forties, about five foot nine inches in height, and
wore heavy black-rimmed reading glasses.

"No thanks," said Mrs. Watson.

The man repeated his request in a very concerned voice, but Mrs. Watson
firmly refused. At this, the man flew into a rage and, pulling a short-bladed
knife, began to stab at her back. She let out a series of screams; lights went
on in all the nearby houses.

Frozen for a moment in the glare, the man raced back to his car and sped
off. Neighbors called an ambulance. The woman was rushed to Marin
General, where she was treated for her wounds.

"I think it's a good chance it was the Zodiac," said Ken Nar-low at Napa
P.D.,J'a better than fifty-fifty chance. I've been chasing the S.O.B. for two
and a half yean now, and Mrs. Watson's description seems to fit him to a T.
And it was a Friday night. Every one of his offenses has been on a Friday or
Saturday. We're taking a long look at the case. I kind of hope it is him. If it
is, it gives us another eyewitness and lets us know he's still around."

Wednesday, July 12, 1972

'The Police Department still has a Zodiac Squad—Inspectors Dave Toschi

and Bill Armstrong," wrote Herb Caen in the Chronicle. "But it is sixteen
months since there has been any action. Even the kook letters are dying out.
'We used to average ten a week,' says Toschi."

For the next eighteen months there were no sightings of Zodiac or any sort
of communication from the killer. In spite of tips from all over the United
States and Canada, Toschi and Armstrong were frustrated from the years of
false leads and dashed hopes. No real major suspect had ever been
developed.

Then, after almost three yean, the killer wrote to the Chronicle again.
Wednesday, January 30, 1974

The postmark on the new Zodiac letter was "940"; that showed it had been
mailed from an adjacent county south of San Francisco early the day before.

Armstrong and Toschi raced to the Chronicle and read it at the paper:

I saw and think 'The Exorcist"* was the best saterical com-idy that I have
ever seen.

Signed, yours truley: He plunged himself into the billowy wave and an echo
arose from the suicides grave

titwillo titwillo titwilk) Ps. if I do not see this note in your paper, I will do
something nasty, which you know I'm capable of doing

Me-37 SFPEM)

Zodiac had drawn a strange symbol, across the bottom of the page, perhaps
a clue to his real identity, or one last slap at the police:

if

* A hit movie playing only at the Northpoint in San Francuco at this time.

Looking at the "titwillo" line, Toschi said, "Another Gilbert and Sullivan
swipe, and another shot at S.F.P.D. Jeez, why does he single us out every
time? What's this grudge?" The aria was that of the Lord High Executioner
from the second act of The Mikado. There was no explanation for Zodiac's
long silence. As to what brought him out again, The Exorcist was receiving
enormous publicity.*

"Of course," said Toschi, "this guy is a real nut on movies. But I'm willing
to bet that it'll turn out to be all the fuss from Monday night."

Tuesday morning's paper had been full of the Monday-night random

shootings of whites by religiously motivated blacks, in a series of attacks
christened the Zebra killings. The most recent had all occurred within a
two-hour period between 8:00 p.m. and 10:00 p.m. This had set off an
around-the-clock manhunt involving the entire homicide crew. Members of
a fanatical cult hacked and shot twenty-three victims over what was to be a
179-day reign of terror. Fifteen were killed; only eight of the victims
survived. Five of the killers were eventually convicted and sentenced to life
imprisonment.

Toschi had been forced out of a sick bed to work on the Zebra attacks, and
now, on top of that, he had Zodiac back. "His timing's lousy," said Toschi.
"But at least now I know that everything we've been doing on this case for
the last three years wasn't in vain."

The part that really bothered Armstrong and Toschi was Zodiac's notation
of thirty-seven victims. He had said he was going to make his future
murders look like accidents. What if this maniac had really killed thirty-
seven people?

Toschi was going to think about this a whole lot.

Toschi and Armstrong were unaware of it, but for the last four yean agents
and investigators in the area around Vallejo had been developing the first
major Zodiac suspect. Now, a secret report on the man was being prepared.

•Author-prochicer William Pctcf Blatty bated his \9&1 Exonte Kqpd, Upon,
on the Zodiac Killer, calling him the Gemini loBer.

$1

Andrew Todd Walker

il 1970
It was early in 1970 when the police became aware of Andy Walker. (This
name has been changed.)

A highway patrolman had become involved in a cat-and-mouse game with a

man in a new green Ford. It was a hot day. The two cars were parked on
opposite plateaus facing each other, the freeway traffic passing below and
between them. The patrolman could tell the Ford driver in the elevated lot
across the freeway was watching him. He decided to check the stranger out.

He backed out of the lot and made his way around to an underpass to take
him over to the other side of the highway. When he got there, the lot was
deserted. He looked across the freeway to the other side, and there was the
green Ford parked where his patrol car had been. While the highway
patrolman was on his way over, the man had taken the overpass and
reversed places with him.

Two days later, the man was back again. This went on for several weeks.
The man had done nothing, but the patrolman was curious. On the long,
scorching days, the two cars would park facing each other, a stream of
traffic roaring between them. Each

time the patrolman would cross over, the green car would trade places with
him.

One day, the patrolman parked in the lot on Hunter Hill Suddenly the new,
dark green Ford LTD four-door entered the lot, drove up alongside, and
parked so close that the door of neither car could have been opened. The
patrolman estimated two inches separated the vehicles.

The patrolman couldn't believe anyone would try to pick a fight with a
highway patrolman in full uniform parked in a CHP car. He felt the man
was staring at him, but decided to ignore him. Finally, he turned to look
right at the other driver.

The stranger's deep, close-set, penetrating, blue eyes radiated a glare of

sheer hatred. "I've never had such an experience in my life," he told me
later. "He was like in an epileptic seizure. That contorted face. Scary."
And that's how the patrolman met Andy Walker.

Walker was a middle-aged man who had an enormous face like a great
owl's, and tight, thin lips. Though his hairline was high, he had an abundant
crop of hair, going to gray. He wore dark-rimmed glasses, had a potbelly,
weighed over two hundred pounds, and stood six feet tall.

In 1971, Vallejo Sergeant Les Lundblad had him in as one of the suspects in
connection with the murder of Darlene Ferrin.

Wednesday May 1, 1974

"I've known for a long time who the Zodiac is," said the Mexican-looking
black man. "He's not in his twenties or thirties as the police say. This guy is
between forty-four to fifty-four and he's gone from his home two nights a
week. He always wears Wing Walker shoes."

Three men stood in the evening shadows of a VaDejo stable. One man was
the speaker, a civil worker. The other two men were friends, a Napa
bowling aDey worker and the highway patrolman.

The patrolman did some checking on Walker. He discovered

Walker lived in a remote area. Since Walker had once been a suspect in the
Zodiac case and had exhibited such hatred of the police, the highway
patrolman was encouraged and continued his investigation.

At the same time, a pretty young schoolteacher got her fourth anonymous
phone call at the apartment complex in Vacaville, just southeast of Vallejo,
where she lived. It was the same as the others: just the sound of rushing
wind on the other end of the line. Frightened, she decided to visit her
boyfriend in Dixon near Sacramento on Silveyville Road. She stayed three
days. When she did return home, she took the phone off the hook.

On Monday, she came home to find a letter addressed to her.

From the envelope the teacher could tell it was from someone who didn't
know her very well. "It's like it is on my mailbox and in the phone book,"
she shakily told police much later, "Just my first initial and last name/' The
letter to her read:

I watch you a lot and call you a lot. I

saw you in Davis and Silveyville Road in

Dixon. I'm pretty angry because your telephone

doesn't ring at night.

Bad things will happen if you don't let it ring.

The teacher was mystified. The writer mentioned seeing her everywhere
save the place she was employed, the elementary school in Cordelia where
she taught seventh and eighth grade.

Badly frightened now, the teacher got in her car and drove all the way to El
Sobrante to stay with her parents. In the middle of the night, the phone rang
at her parents' house. There was only the same sound of wind on the other
end of the line.

Saturday, May 11, 1974

The next unsigned letter the teacher got came to her at her parents' house. It
read:

It's hard to watch you and call when you have an unlisted number. I don't
like that.

The writer had crumpled up the letter and then carefully and successfully
smoothed it out to get rid of the fingerprints. CI&I in Sacramento said the
printing in the letters was "very, very contrived" and that the writer was
trying to appear to be an eighth- or ninth-grade student by using poor
grammar and printing.

The woman who managed the Vacaville apartment building had seen a
"dark-green, four-door Ford parked at the rear of the complex/' a sloppily
dressed man behind the wheel. He had been there for several afternoons.
Once in April, he had come to the manager's door pretending to gather
information. He asked a few questions and then drove off. "He was very
unkempt and had a potbelly. He did not appear very businesslike/' the
manager said.

The police were interested because a teacher had been receiving letters
matching Zodiac's M.O. and a man resembling their strongest Zodiac
suspect had been seen watching the complex. Police decided to find out if
the man who spoke to the apartment manager was Walker. In itself this
would prove nothing more than the possibility that Walker was
misrepresenting himself. It would not prove that Walker was writing
anonymous letters to the teacher or was Zodiac. Placing him at the
apartment building would at least provide a link.

They arranged for the apartment complex manager to see Walker at a

weekly meeting he attended. She identified him from a group of twenty-five
people. "He's so neat tonight/' she said, "but he's definitely the same man
who came to my door."

The Vallejo detectives were excited now. The civil worker had made an
accusation against Walker as the Zodiac killer, and here was the suspect
possibly involved in a case of anonymous threatening letters similar to the
Zodiac letters to the press. In addition, police were studying the report on
Walker's suspicious activities in parking lots. Zodiac was always connected
to cars and parking areas. Police realized that Walker could conceivably be
the man

who was asking questions about Darlenc at Terry's. On their own time,
several investigators began looking into this man. (These detectives, two
policemen and a federal investigator, have asked me not to use their names.)

A seventeen-page confidential report on Walker was prepared, entitled

"What, another Zodiac suspect?" Over coffee at the home of one of the
detectives I was allowed to read and copy their report. Over the years I was
to run across this report again and again in such disparate places as
Berkeley P.D. and the office of a famous female private detective.
Before I left 1 discussed their report with them in detail. The investigators
told me about the photographs that Linda, Darlene's sister, had been shown
in San Jose. "She picked out Walker/' they said, 'The way she put it was that
4 He was most likely the same man who was terrorizing Darlene in the
months before her death.

"She told us she had seen this man twice. Once in February 1969 (at
Terry's) and once in May 1969 (the painting party)."

The detectives were heartened by this.*

I spoke with Linda much later about it. Vallejo policeman Steve Baldino, a
close friend of Darlene's, had been at the party and picked out Walker as
having been there. "Steve was pretty shook up over all this," Linda said.
"He knew the family. ... He was a really good cop and when Darlene died
he went overboard a little bit trying to find her killer."

The detectives had gotten their hands on an NSA cipher computer printout
of one of Zodiac's codes and claimed that words that approximated Walker's
name were repeated several times in the cryptogram. This evidently was the
last line of the Zodiac cipher of July 31, 1969.

"I was swamped out by the rain we had a while back," Zodiac had written.
The area of Walker's house was flooded at the time of Zodiac's letter, and
the detectives had secured photos to prove it. "Peek through the pines" said
a Zodiac card. One of the

* I btcr learned that others were skeptical that this man was Walker.
Darlene's friend, Bobbie Ramos, said she did not believe it was Walker.
Lynch told me he did not bebevc it was Walker either Finally, Darlene's
aster, Pam F expressed doubts that he was the man

detectives explained to me that Walker lived in a grove of pine trees in an

isolated section. "You can't even see the house unbl you get up close
enough to peer through the pine trees which are in long rows/'

I looked at the photos of Walker's house that they had taken and saw that
the water had come up over the road and had piled banks of mud near the
center. The entire area had, I found out when I visited it, in spite of the
green pines, a desolate chill to it.

They then began to mention a long list of connections between Walker and
the Zodiac murders and letters. "We can connect him to the Sierra Club."
Zodiac had mentioned the Sierra Club on the same card he mentioned
peeking through the pines.

The investigators had done extensive work on developing a Lake Berryessa

connection. On the same day Bryan Hartndl and Cecelia Shepard were
attacked at the lake, a stocky man came into Moskowite Corners General
Store, across from Pearce's Chevron Service near the lake. He was nervous
and was frantically asking anyone who would listen what was the quickest
way to leave the lake.

The detectives had located a witness who was having lunch at the general
store at the time and who felt the man was acting highly unusual. He had
even followed him out of the store and watched him get into a white
automobile and drive away from the lake. "He matched the description/'
they told me, "of a man who had been watching some girls taking a sunbath
near where Hart-neD and Shepard were knifed. The police never found
such a man or the car he was in." I told them I recalled the man seen at die
lake was thought to be much younger than Walker.

"We brought our witness an assortment of photos," they continued, "and

bang!—he picked our man out. He was the one he had seen at Moskowite
Corners. The following Tuesday we took him to a group meeting so he
could see Walker in the flesh. He wasn't totally certain that Walker was the
same man. Our witness thought that Walker had dyed his hair. He did teD
us that Walker's voice was almost exactly the same as the man asking

directions the day of the Berryessa murder. And this was about five years
after the death of Shepard.

"Unfortunately we lost our witness ten days after he was taken to see
Walker. This was in an explosion. The witness' death was ruled an
accident."
We all agreed that Walker met the general description of the Zodiac with the
exception of age. The detectives had seen an employment form filled out by
Walker and noted that their suspect had in the years 1942 through 1945
taught code in the military service. "He taught code for two years. He went
right from a seven-month stint in code school to being one of the teachers.
He'd have to be pretty bright to do that."

The detectives had checked Walker's records at Social Security and

discovered that he had a card not only under his own name but three others.
"All of the Zodiac murders and letters were done while Walker was not
working and none during the periods of his employment. He is
ambidextrous. I've seen this myself/' I was told.

The investigators also stressed, "Walker spent considerable time at Terry's

Restaurant during the time Darlene was a waitress there. This was just
before she was killed. Officer Steve Baldino verified this. We know from
DMV that Walker owned a 1961 four-door white Biscayne in 1968. As you
know this is a like design to the I m pa la

"We know he's actively hostile toward law enforcement." They then told me
about the incident with the highway patrolman. "We know that he's altered
the way he looks while at the apartment building of a teacher receiving
threatening letters. We can connect him with at least two of the murders, he
knew Ferrin and may have been at Berryessa.

"Walker is a hot-tempered guy, suffers from painful headaches and has

always had trouble working with women on the job. We were told this by
his former supervisors."

Walker finally admitted to "spending many hours at Terry's," which of

course was no proof that he had been the man harassing Darlene. The
detectives then embarked on a series of schemes to get more evidence
against the suspect,- palm prints.

The investigators had an associate wait near Walker's work place. They had
put casts on both of their friend's arms and placed a small and a large
goldfish bowl on a storefront ledge.
As Walker approached on the way to work, the associate stepped forward
and said, "Excuse me, sir. Can you give me a hand with these fishbowls.
My car is just down the street."

Walker looked the man up and down. Then he looked at the two water-filled
fishbowls. "I guess so," he said, picking up the large bowl.

Walker hadn't held the fishbowl more than a few seconds when the man
shouted, "No. No. I meant the small one." The associate lunged forward,
thrust the ends of both casts around the outer surface of the bowl (as to not
smudge the prints) and went sprinting off, splashing as he went, and leaving
behind a very perplexed Walker.

Unfortunately, because of the water, no part of any print adhered to the

glass surface.

The three detectives' next scheme involved tailing Walker. Each weekend
night they waited in two autos in a grove near Walker's ranch house. One
Friday, as they watched, one of Walker's cars, a 72 Dodge, shot out of the
tree-lined driveway, turned right and roared off into the night trailing a
column of dust.

Instantly the investigators raced after the bronze car, lights off.

"He knows we're here. Give it the gun. Go as fast as you can." However
Walker quickly outdistanced and then lost his pursuers. A half hour later the
investigators returned and saw the Dodge parked in the driveway. Walker
was leaning against the rear fender, smoking.

The following week the police arranged for Social Security to call Walker
in on a pretext in order to gather handwriting samples. When he returned
home Walker told his wife about the visit and that he believed that they
were trying "to get some sort of evidence" against me. He then told his wife
about the ill-fated tailing incident. She reported this to the authorities.

The next morning the detectives were ordered by the judge to

"cease their harassment of Andrew Walker" and "close the case against
him/'

The two investigators felt the odds were excellent that Walker was Zodiac.
As they stressed at the conclusion of their report there were only two good
reasons why Walker had been refused as a suspect by the authorities up to
this point. The first, they told me, was that his handwriting did not match
the printing on the Zodiac letters. The detectives felt that not enough
exemplars of handwriting had been compared and that the check should be
redone. Secondly, Walker's fingerprints did not match the bloody print on
the outside of Paul Stine's cab in San Francisco.

The explanation advanced by the investigators was fairly farfetched but

since they felt that Zodiac was a highly demented and warped individual it
would not be beyond his method of planning.

"He intended to leave fingerprints/' they said. "They were fingerprints but
not his own. I can't tell you how he accomplished this. We think it may have
been with the use of reverse image prints or with the use of severed fingers
from some victim we don't even know about—whatever. He wanted to
thumb his nose at the police. He has a special hatred of San Francisco's
department. Think about it. In the murder of the San Francisco cabbie he
had worked out a meticulous plan. He carried off the killing, ripped off a
piece of Stine's shirt to prove he was the killer, wiped down the vehicle,
placed a get-away car within walking distance —I can't believe he would
slip up and leave prints unless he had planned to."

There was one last bizarre note. The detectives discovered on the posts and
poles around the suspect's rural house and on his ranch's back gate hand-
painted symbols in color. These were photographed by Polaroid camera and
sent to the Department of Justice:

"Enclosed are five photos of various signs photographed in a rural area.

Please determine if the enclosed photographs represent signs in witchcraft.
If so, please determine what each individual sign's significance is in
witchcraft."

Experts could not connect them to any known witchcraft symbols.

I showed Walker's photo to the three teenagers who had witnessed the Stine
murder. They thought that he was too old to be the killer.

I now believe that Walker is not the Zodiac killer. But up to this point,
almost six years after the Lake Herman Road murders, he was the best
anyone had come up with.

Zodiac

Wednesday, July 10, 1974

Toschi referred to two new Zodiac letters:

"He's not fooling anybody—no matter what his game is. There's no doubt in
my mind about either one. I took them to a documents expert and in less
than five minutes he told me positively they were in fact written by the
Zodiac. He's trying to slip letters and cards into the Chronicle without being
detected."

The new messages were handprinted as always, but the spelling and
punctuation were correct and no new claims of victims were made.

The first was a postcard that had been mailed in Alameda County on May 8
and had not arrived at the paper until June 4.

Sirs—I would like to

express my consternation concerning

your poor taste & lack of

sympathy for the public, as

evidenced by your running

of ads for the movie

'Badlands' featuring the

blurb 'In 1959 most people were killing time. Kit & HoDy were killing
people/ In light of recent events, this kind of murder-glorification can only
be deplorable at best (not that glorification of violence was ever justifiable)
why don't you show some concern for public sensibilities & cut the ad?

(signed) A citizen

The second letter was mailed July 8, a Monday, from a San Rafael postbox
Of all the letters this was one of the oddest, a concoction of neat letters
written painstakenly with long, swooping tails and flowing lines.

Editor-Put Marco back in the heD-hole from whence it came—he has a

serious psychological disorder— always needs to fed superior. I suggest
you refer him to a shrink. Meanwhile, caned the Count Marco column.
Since the Count can write anonymously, so can I— (signed) the Red
Phantom

(red with rage)

Anti-feminist columnist Count Marco SpineDi, a former hairdresser, quit

the Chronicle after fifteen years because of this threat and moved to Hawaii
for a life of leisure. He has since returned.

The only film with a "Red Phantom" in it was currently being shown at a
silent film palace, a theater with a domed ceiling decorated with a gigantic
design of the zodiac. This film was The Phantom of the Opera (1924),
starring Lon Chancy.

S.F.P.D. still had not developed a major suspect in die case.

Saturday, July 24, 1976

Armstrong looked down at the body sprawled on the sidewalk on Van Ness,
and suddenly all the grueling years of homicide work caught up with him.
He quit homicide for good on the spot. The next day, he transferred to the
Bunco division. Sherwood MorriD heard there was some friction or dispute
with Toschi that has lasted to this day. Both men refuse to discuss it. But
basically it had been just one murder too many for the sensitive, intelligent
Armstrong.

In Vallejo, Sergeant Lynch told me, "Armstrong seemed to me to be just

worn out. He could never sit down and talk to you like this. You had to be
walking some place or going upstairs. The guy was just like ready to erupt."

Thursday, July 29, 1976

Herb Caen in his daily column in the Chronicle:

ONWARD: Homicide Inspector Dave (Trenchcoat) Toschi \» the only S.F.

cop now working on the Zodiac case. He heard last from the killer a couple
of yean ago when Zodiac criticized 'The Exorcist" as "a bad comedy/'
ending his note with his alleged score as a slayer: ME 37, SFPD 0." Maybe
"The Omen" will smoke him out again.

Now that Armstrong had transferred, Toschi was the only San Francisco
detective working on one of the most baffling cases in the history of
American crime.

'it's quite a challenge. I never let a day go by without remembering Zodiac.

Now that I'm the only one working on it," said Toschi, "it's gotten to be
more personal. I've got eight filing cabinet drawers filled with Zodiac data
—including the names of more than 2,000 potential suspects. I don't know
if I'D ever get the case solved, but I'm sure as hell trying. I fed he's out
there. I feel he's going to surface."

Toschi's health would suffer from the strain of following an endless maze in
search of a pathological killer. Along the way, he

would gather fame and the admiration of a great city, and make many
powerful and jealous enemies.

Tuesday, May 31, 1977

On March 3, the FBI had requested copies of all the Zodiac letters. Even in
1977, the bureau was still poking about in the Zodiac case.
The top psycholinguistics expert in the country, Dr. Murray S. Miron,
working from nineteen of the killer's letters, came to these conclusions
about Zodiac in a secret Syracuse Research Institute report: Zodiac "has had
some exposure to our training in elementary cryptography" and "is a
Caucasian unmarried male in his twenties. He is no more than high school
educated, reads little, is isolated, withdrawn, and unrelated in his habits,
quiet and unprepossessing in disposition." Miron felt the killer had good
eyesight and was "a discretionary illiterate," someone who prefers "the
passiveness of pictures, TV, and the movies" and does not even have a
library of "cheap pocket books." Zodiac, in Miron's opinion, "would have
spent much of his time in movie houses specializing in sado-masochistic
and occult eroticism" and was "a borderline psychotic.... His
communications display the characteristic signs of magical thinking, and
narcissistic infantilism typical of the schizophrenic.

"Zodiac rather well fits the pattern of what might be called

pseudoreactive schizophrenia Such individuals engage in their

bizarre behavior as sort of a cover-up for their underlying and more hidden
psychosis. They can be expected to display wide swings of emotion from
intense euphoria to deepest depression.

"He lives the secret life of seclusion and presents to the world a mask of
containment, pleasantness and ordinariness."

Miron thought the December 1969 letter to Belli contained hints of the
depression that "frequently overtakes him. ... It is not entirely unlikely that
in one of these virulent depressions, such individuals could commit
suicide." Because of Zodiac's concern with control, Miron felt he would
shun the "disinhibiting effects

of alcohol," and would avoid "normal sexual contacts with women.

The "moralism" expressed in Zodiac's letter of 1974 contained "no explicit

threat," no "braggadocio," and "uses none of his identifying symbolism.
The moralism expressed in that communication is consistant with
motivation which could precede a suicide. There is an alternate
interpretation of this progressive change in Zodiac. It is possible that die
suicide he references is the symbolic death of Zodiac. . . The sociopathic
personality eventually *burns out' ... as he ages."

Friday, June 10, 1977

At around ten am, a federal investigator was talking to a young woman

named Karen at her home in Vallejo. She had been Darlene Ferrin's
babysitter in February 1969 and had been the first to see the man in the
white car who parked outside Darlene's home on Wallace. Friends had
talked her into coming to the police with the information at last.

The investigator and Karen talked over coffee in her living room. Finally
the investigator took out his tape recorder, placed it on the glass coffee
table, and took out his pen and yellow pad. Even though the conversation
was being taped die investigator wrote down every word

She carefully explained the events of February 26, 1969.

A white American-made sedan had been parked outside the house since
10:00 p.m. A man had been watching the house. Around midnight, he lit a
match and she was able to see his face. But only briefly.

"He was heavy-set with a very round face," she told him. "He had wavy
dark brown hair. I think he was middle-aged"

Karen said that the next day she mentioned the man to Darlene. "She
seemed to know who he was. Darlene told me, '1 guess he's checking up on
me again. I beard he was back from out of state.' Darlene told me she had
seen him murder someone.

"Darlene mentioned die man's name, but all I know is that his

first name was very short, three or (our letters, and his second name was
just slightly longer.

'The name was quite common. I have a very good mind for names. It's . . .
it's . . ."
This is it! the investigator thought. 'Take your time, Karen," he said. "We've
got all the time in the world."

The investigator waited. He traced over the letters on his pad, shifted his
weight in the chair, gazed at the clock ticking on the mantle.

Finally Karen shrugged. Tin sorry. I just can't remember."

"I've got an idea," said the investigator. "Let me use your phone for a
minute." The investigator got in touch with Lieutenant James Husted of
Vallejo P.D. to see if a hypnosis session with Karen could be arranged. It
would help her remember everything that happened that evening in 1969.
Husted said that would be agreeable with him and that he would set it up
soon.

The investigator got Karen's permission for the session, and drove slowly
back to San Francisco.

Wednesday, June 15, 1977

Lieutenant Husted contacted Lieutenant Larry Haynes, of the Concord,

California, P.D., who agreed to help with Karen. Haynes had been trained
by the L.A.P.D.'s Law Enforcement Hypnotic Institute. He said the number
of years that had passed since the killing didn't matter.

Thursday, June 16, 1977

Karen met Husted at the Vallejo P.D., and at 1:00 p.m. they met Haynes for
the hypnotism session in Concord. The session was taped by both audio and
video equipment.

"Lieutenant Haynes, after inducing a hypnotic trance," read Husted's report,

"explored certain areas of concern, particularly die discussion Karen had
with Darlene Ferrin ... in regard to a

person the said that she had once seen murder someone. From that
particular questioning, Karen was able to recall a general description of the
male in the vehicle. . . .
'The name of the individual was not recalled, although she remembers
clearly the conversation with Darlene," continued the report. "She did relate
that a phone was ringing. It's felt that this phone ringing is offsetting her
subconscience and possibly she's trying to subconsciously suppress the
information due to her fears about having to testify in court over this
matter."

The federal investigator had his own feelings about this. Husted was a good
detective but a brusque man, and the investigator was sure that Karen was
unable to recall the name because she was nervous in Husted's presence.

"She was also given instructions that she would remember the face that she
perceived in the trance, and that she would assist in producing a composite
with a police artist," ended the report.

This was never done.

As head of the Questioned Documents Section of CIdrl in Sacramento,

Sherwood Morrill was with the Zodiac case from the beginning and
remained so even after his retirement. Morrill was the foremost handwriting
expert in California, handling up to a hundred cases a month; it was his job
to authenticate or reject each Zodiac letter as it arrived over the yean. The
expert lived for the day he would find a match with Zodiac's distinctive
writing. I met often with the tall, dignified, fit student of science and
psychology in his south Sacramento office, and we became friends. After
thirty-nine yean as the state's top handwriting examiner, he retired in
December 1972. He had testified in court 2500 times. He was in on the Juan
Corona, Angela Davis, and "San Quentin Six" cases. But to him they all
paled beside Zodiac.

"Do you think," I asked Morrill, "that the cursive letter d 's and checkmark
r's are part of Zodiac's real handwriting?"

"I think so. He's been consistent."

"What about that unusual *?"

"At fint we thought that was consistent, but he got away from
it He made it in three separate strokes instead of the more usual two/' said
Morrill.

"I've heard that you said if you were standing next to Zodiac at the bank and
he were filling out a deposit slip you could recognize him."

"I really believe it. If he printed enough on the deposit slip, I think I'd spot
him right away."

"I've heard the paper size on the letters was seven and a half by ten/' I said.

"Seven and a half by ten inches/' said Morrill thoughtfully. "That's an odd
size. That doesn't make sense. Eight and one half is the norm."

I decided to check into that.

The Riverside Zodiac letters were written on teletype paper. Was { Zodiac
unrolling the stationery like so many kitchen paper towels and then
trimming it to size? There were rolls of teletype paper (TTS paper) used in
the late sixties for pre-edited copy on newspapers. It is not made anymore. I
recalled it as being quite narrow, but a call to AP and UPI told me it wasn't
narrow enough to fit the Zodiac letters unless the killer had trimmed the
sides as well. TTS paper would point once again to someone connected
with a newspaper.

I wondered if the Zodiac could be a printer utilizing odd sizes of leftover

paper stock. I called several stationery stores and they told me the letters
had been written on a style of paper called "Monarch size"; if I wanted
some I had to order a minimum of five hundred sheets that they would cut
out of the center of five hundred sheets of regular-size bond paper.

The edges of the Zodiac letters were sharp, clean, and even, and had been
cut by a machine at a store or at a factory and not by hand. But each of them
was slightly different in size and varied as much as one-eighth of an inch in
width or length. No factory put out paper that imperfect, so I had limited the
paper to custom-cut stock. The different sizes meant that Zodiac had put in
many special orders of five hundred sheets each and used pages from each
order.
Somewhere there might be a printer who would remember the man who
bought so much Monarch-size bond paper.

Monday, January 30, 1978

"I think he's alive," said Dave Toschi in a San Francisco Exam-iner front-
page recap of the Zodiac case. "It's almost a gut feeling. But, if he had been
killed in an accident or committed suicide or been murdered, I believe
someone would have gone into his room. And I think he would leave
something for us to find.

"He got his pleasure by telling us about the murders/* said the detective.
"My guess is that he hasn't been killing. Ego is what forced him to kill and
write letters, knowing the media would broadcast and print it I think he is in
a period of remission and that some symptoms abated. Perhaps during this
period, he had no desire to kill."

Tuesday, March 28, 1978

AD through the month of March there had been strange stirrings of

movement, odd activities that were attributed to cranks.

Toschi looked down at a S.F.P.D. Initial Incident Report, Code 64070:

Suspicious occurrer,

TIME OF OCCURRENCE: MON/03/13/78 C700HRS TOTUE 03/14/78

0030HRS

DISTRICT OF OCCURRENCE: TARAVAL UNIT REPORTING 311

REPORTING AREA: 422

TYPE PREMISE: HOUSE-SINGLE DWELLING

SUSPECT-1 NOT/KNOWN

ARTICLE-1 (PROPERTY FOR ID): NOTE

NUMBER: 1 CATEGORY^ NARRATIVE

REPORTEE STATED UPON ARRIVING HOME FROM BABY

SITTING SHE DISCOVERED THE ABOVE NOTE PINNED ON THE

FRONT GATE WITH A FLOWER. THE NOTE READ "YOU'RE

NEXT* (THE ZODIAC KILLERS).

REPORTING OFFICERS: KAWAGUCHI/TODD/L/PTL/1099

Toschi called the woman and reassured her that the note was not from
Zodiac because the handprinting was not that of the killer. He advised her to
think back on any co-workers or neighbors who might play such a cruel
prank on her, tell her landlord about the incident, and to contact him at the
HOJ if it should happen again.

Toschi studied another suspicious occurrence from the Mission District.

TIME OF OCCURENCE: MPN 03/13/78 2300HRS NARRATIVE

REPORTEE STATED TO OFFICERS THAT UPON PLAYING

HIS PHONE MESSAGE RECORDER THIS MORNING, THE

MESSAGE WAS AS FOLLOWS: THIS IS THE ZODIAC, TELL THE
PRESS THAT I AM BACK IN SAN FRANCISCO." THE REPORTEE
STATED THAT HE HAS NO IDEA WHY THE CALL CAME TO HIM.
HE FURTHER STATED THAT HE HAS OFTEN TIMES RECEIVED
SUSPICIOUS PHONE CALLS HE BELIEVES THE CALLS ARE FROM
JUVENILES.

Even into April the reports continued to pour

in.

TIME OF OCCURRENCE: FRI 05/05/78 0700HRS LOCATION OF

OCCURRENCE: 600 MONTGOMERY ST
NARRATIVE OFFICERS KELLY AND SIMPSON SENT TO THE
TRANSAMERICA BUILDING ON A REPORTED BOMB THREAT. WE
WERE TOLD THAT THE SAN MATEO POLICE DEPT. OPERATOR
HAD RECEIVED A CALL AT APPROX 1700 HOURS, FROM A MALE
CLAIMING TO BE THE ZODIAC " THE CALLER STATED THAT A
BOMB WAS IN THE TRANSAMERICA BUILDING AND WOULD
DETONATE.

HEAD OF SECURITY INFORMED ME THAT HE HAD PREVIOUSLY

BEEN ADVISED OF THREAT THE BUILDING HAD BEEN
SEARCHED AND FOUND SECURE AT 1730 HOURS. CONTINUING

OBSERVATION OF ALL PUBLIC AREAS, SINCE THAT TIME HAS

REVEALED NO SUSPECTED DEVICES

COPY SENT TO CHIEF OFFICE AND TASK FORCE.

Toschi ci rcled an ad for a performance of T7k Mikado on May 30 and sent

it to me. "I wondered if this ad might be noticed by Zodiac, since The
Mikado hasn't played SF for almost ten years," wrote the detective. "Well
have to watch our mail during that time!" The G & S production would be
at the Curran Theatre, 445 Geary Street—only a few feet away from where
Zodiac hailed Paul Stine's cab that foggy night so long ago.

I attended all four performances of The Mikado, which was playing in

tandem with two other G & S productions. Since the cast was British and
had never played San Francisco before, I went primarily to scan the
audience in search of any of die suspects. I saw none.

I wondered if die return of 'The Lord High Executioner" would elicit any
sort of response from Zodiac.

Tuesday, April 25, 1978

"See Sergeant Ralph Wilson," said Captain Vince Murphy. "He'll help you
out/' I was in the sheriff's office just above the jail in Fairfield, California.
Murphy was setting up an appointment for me to see the exact site of the
Faraday and Jensen murders.

Sergeant Wilson motioned me into his office. He had been thirteen years
with the sheriff's department and four with the Valejo P.D. He was a sturdy,
craggy man who reminded me a great deal of the actor Ben Johnson. He
radiated a kind of likable authority He walked me out to his squad car.

We drove down narrow, two-lane Lake Herman Road, past bbck wood
fence posts strung with barb wire. Around each of die curves in the road
were cows grazing and scrub and trees casting dappled shadows on the
gravel. At night there would be no light at aQ. We pulled into a rocky
dealing in front of a bent steel

meshed fence that separated us from a rolling hill, with two triple-decked
high tension towers and an observation building small in the distance.

Sergeant Wilson re-enacted for me exactly what had happened almost ten
yean ago when David and Betty Lou parked in this dark and lonely place,
exactly where Sergeant Wilson parked now. Beside the police car was an
empty space where Zodiac had ptilled his car close to the Jensen station
wagon. Wilson showed me exactly where David Faraday's body had fallen
outside the right front door of the Rambler.

Getting out my camera, I took ten pictures of the death site. The sun seemed
bright and there was a slight breeze. At two in the afternoon the area was
not threatening at all. Later, when I developed my pictures, the scene
appeared overcast, dark clouds boiling up in the distance and long black
shadows on the ground.

Wilson drove me to the Blue Rock Springs parking lot and showed me
where Ferrin and Mageau were attacked on July 4, 1969. Then he took me
back to his office. I thanked the sergeant and drove back to San Francisco.

Later that evening, as I was preparing to eat dinner and was jotting down
some notes, I was startled to hear an excited announcer on Channel 2
talking about Zodiac.
"Good evening! After four years of self-imposed silence the elusive,
boastful killer known as Zodiac wrote a letter to the San Francisco
Chronicle today."

I got in my car and made the ten-minute drive to the Chronicle. The photo
of the letter was being processed in the art department and a banner
headline pasted up.

The headline read: "Zodiac Ends Silence—i Am Back With You/ "

Dear Melvin

: + © no . Picas e

crfr^iij I

oui OhJ P^xib'/ +en**> vie. w ■ , ,-^ c Help me I a«v* Jr-a wnj |'*^ /4 f»

-fro** + k# borvit because

' iV« *o dig iV? ^ t^tf f^ije*- *%ecli «-e*c«/~<j ***<*, *^o^k *© sef i4
adjuj-tej ^4 r,jU. But if I Ko/c/ Uclr + ©* lo^g {k-*^

*« #*iV?e I uvtif looje «»»»* f J«»

b*^6 c*p. PI*«*/€ Vttlp rvie I ►*©>+ r€Ma/r? •>» control -f*+ mMC /,

r« f e
all

December 20, 1969, letter from the killer to attorney Melvm Belli This also
contained another swatch of Paul Stine's bloodv shirt

Zodiac's name in cipher in an April 20, 1970, letter to the Chronicle.

'*+ 4.f A km.

S ** '?*/>* '* **~V *—*~4,'^

_ff) z & SFPP-O

Another bomb diagram enclosed in the April 20 letter This diagram has
never before been reproduced
April 28, 1970, "dragon" greeting card from Zodiac to the Chronicle.
3^

MX

-0 o «

rJv

JK

letter on the back of the greeting card

This is fhe Zodioc sp#altin* I have be c.0m e very upset uvt+k

♦ b* people ©f S*W Fr+» BcKf

A****. . They Ha*^ nof e.o»*p\l*<J

a r> i / at 1 1"1 +* £*// J*J*09f &m*s . ** parked C4*r itf#/C

/n

•/2

The Map coupl*/ c*</* y^ilt +e// y**

k>Cr* y

/J

SFPD-O
h*yt y >^»/ r /* c/y #

-*-

C4J• ■0*a4M1AA0Rt© XOFDVtBHC CL-4-PVA

Zodiac letter of |une 26. 1970, to the Chronicle This included a map of Mt
Diablo

Zodiac death threat card to Chronicle reporter Paul Avery on October 27,
1970.

to?IE:-

April 30, 1%7, penciled note from Zodiac to Joseph Bates, the father of
victim Cheri jo Bates, in Riverside. California This has never before been
reproduced.

Desktop poem (scratched in ballpoint pen) in Riverside City College

library, discovered shortly after Joseph Bates received his letter from
Zodiac

•h-CSc?

Ci

rt*H

WT:
April 30, 1967, Zodiac envelopes addressed to Joseph Bates and the
Riverside police department. Note the double postage.

\ * * k ** *< v

Zodiac letter mailed to the Los Angeles Times from Pleasanton, Califoi nia,
on March 13, 1971.
The March 22. 1971, postcard to Paul Avery that linked Zodiac to the
disappearance of Lake Tahoc nurse Donna Lass.

X-raw -t- Jt7»k 71^ ^xorclff '<// +*>*/ T *>""* *~*~ -re*- .

H+~rA6 +''' +~r*

Ps. ?f S S* ~*+ *** **''

rr pv - o
The Exorcist letter to the Chronicle, Januar> 29. 1974

C&+* * fr*"** ****** 'V^c+su/*~ yo^i, foov T*a*^t / ^c/f of

$r t~*/0* 'My ~{v€S 7*U 4 j***o'h. j 6$

iv#r< Kittle /"e»rl**t« W ft-/ fU*+ ^,// c ,/,^ ^

^ C fT r 2.

^H

May 8, 1974, Badlands letter to the Chronicle.

This .', tk € Z.o</,ac /peoKinj I a* 6ack v#rA X om. T e // A er £ CMI| I a*

Acre, I i^e a/u,«yj 6tt« *ie^«. Th«-r c/W ^/a, To/cki is 900 d :

W/// gc/- T/'red ftltn /e^e >*^ */•*«. J om w«/V/'*j ^,k a a 00 d

Zodiac returns wirii hts letter of April 1 rhe Chronicle

Comparison between horoscope book and Zodiac's cipher symbols. Chart

by R. Graysmith.

Dear Editor

This is the Zodiac speaking 1 am back with you. Tell herb caen I am here, I
have always been here That city pig toschi is good but I am smarter and
better he will get tired then leave me alone I am waiting for a good movie
about me. who will pby me. I am now in control of all things.

j«oun tmly. W • guess SFPD-0

The new letter had been mailed on Monday, April 24. Although it bore a
San Francisco postmark, notations on the cancellation mark designated a
Santa Clara or San Mateo county origin. It may only have been p r o cessed
in San Francisco and mailed from elsewhere.

207

It was the killer's twenty-first letter since 1969. Taking into account the
carved desk, car door, and Riverside letters, the killer had provided the
police with twenty-seven separate written communications.

As usual, it had too much postage, a subconscious attempt by the killer to

rush his message. It was received at the Chronicle about 2:15 p.m., the same
time I was on Lake Herman Road with Sergeant Wilson.

Brant Parker, a copyperson who had only recently returned to the paper,
recognized the printing. He gave the letter to Mike Duncan, his boss, and
told him it was a new Zodiac letter, the first in fifty-one months. Duncan
opened it anyway and screamed for Duffy Jennings, a few desks away.
Jennings had taken over the case after Avery had left the Chronicle.

Jennings immediately had the letter and envelope photographed by the

photo department. He was in the habit of saving up a number of possible
Zodiac letters that would trickle into the newspaper and then dropping them
off in a bundle to Toschi at Homicide. But Jennings was positive that this
letter was authentic, so after hying unsuccessfully to reach Toschi by phone
he took the bus the short distance to the Hall of Justice.

Toschi was with his partner, Frank Falzon, trying to serve subpoenas on
three bikers who had witnessed a double murder in front of the Jack In The
Box restaurant on Seventh and Market Streets, when he heard his code
number on the radio and the message to call his office. There was a police
call box at Valencia and Twenty-Second, and Toschi got his secretary;
Jennings was standing there waiting to talk to him.

"This is the real thing, Dave!" said Jennings. "You'll just go nuts when you
see it."
"See what, Duffy?" said Toschi.

"You'll have to come in. I've got to get back to the paper. I'm going to do a
story on it. It's very important."

Toschi had a pretty good idea of what was waiting, just from the excitement
in the young reporter's voice. He rushed back to his office.

"Deputy Chief DeAmicis wants you in his office," said Toschf s iccretary. It
was now 3:00 p.m.

The detective saw the familiar plastic evidence envelope on the Deputy
Chiefs desk and the blue printed letter inside.

"I want you to see this," said DeAmicis. "What do you think?"

Toschi was so excited that he could only see a word here and there. The
detective was having a hard time focusing on the message as a whole.

'This looks real good," said Toschi.

DeAmicis hadn't been with Homicide in the late sixties when Zodiac had
kept the city in terror. This excitement over a single letter was new to him.

Toschi got on the phone to John Shimoda, head of the Postal Service crime
lab in San Bruno.

"John, I've got a possible Zodiac letter. How much longer are vou going to
be there?"

"Only 'til about four-thirty."

"Give roe twenty minutes. I'll be right there."

With the letter still in its plastic envelope, Toschi made six Xerox copies,
three for himself and three for DeAmicis. There was always the possibility
Shimoda would want to keep die letter overnight.
As Toschi swept past a desk, he shook out a Pall Mall from a package, and
lit it Halfway down the elevator he snatched it out of his mouth. "What the
hell, I don't smoke anymore!"

He got to Shimoda by 4:10 p.m.

Using tweezers to carry the letter, the handwriting expert walked to the
center of the room, where he had a box of eight-by-ten-inch photos of
Zodiac letters written up to 1973. After thirty minutes, he looked up.

"I'd say he's back/'

"Are you sure?"

'That's your man," said Shimoda. "He's back."

"I'll need a note from you saying so. The Chronicle will be funning a story
no matter what," said Toschi.

"It's sure enough his writing."

Toschi called DeAmicis from Shimoda's private office and told him the
letter had been authenticated. When he got back, he called Duffy Jennings
directly from the police garage and told him, "Yes."

"It had been a long four years/' said Toschi. "I could feel the i excitement in
my body."

Even though the Chronicle had photos of the letter and enve-1 lope, they
held back from printing an actual picture of the message, in order to
cooperate with the police. S.F.P.D. did not want to reveal how little of the
letter they were holding back—the closing line.

Toschi went directly to DeAmicis' office. "What are you going i to do with
the original now?" asked DeAmicis.

"I'm going to take it down to the photo lab."

The letter was photographed in Toschi's presence. "I wasn't about to leave
it," he told me later.

Ten photocopies were also made for other law enforcement agencies. Then
Toschi personally took the letter to the crime lab, gave it to print expert Ken
Moses, told him it was an authenticated letter from Zodiac, and asked if he
could try and get some prints off it. Moses sprayed it with Ninhydrin, but
nothing usua-j ble appeared. "I'm going to wait until morning and use a
silver nitrate solution to bring out anything the Ninhydrin might have
missed," he said. The tests all proved negative. The letter wasi booked into
the property clerk's office the next day.

Nine-thirty found DeAmicis at a televised press conference reading the new

letter, written on the blackboard behind him. "It doesn't appear to be
threatening in its context. . . . The tone is very, very different from the
letters that have been received in the! past," said DeAmicis.

The newspeople were on Toschi the minute the official press conference
was over. He told them that the police would be sending copies of the new
Zodiac communication to all counties involved, and that tests made so far
showed no prints or clues on the letter and envelope.

Saturday, April 29, 1978

Analysis of the killer's letter and speculation about his whereabouts for the
last four years saturated the news for days, but Toschi was aware that a very
tight rein was being held on him. He was assigned a captain to monitor his
interviews with the media. Toschi was puzzled by this. I had my own
theories on the subject. Toschi had been asked by the city's Italian
community to run for sheriff, and one city supervisor, planning on a bid for
the mayor's seat, had him down as her choice for police chief. Intelligent
and successful, Toschi was now focused in the public eye since the new
letter had singled him out.

DeAmicis, in reaction to the new Zodiac letter, pulled Inspector Tedesco

from Special Investigations and Inspector James Deasy from the gang task
force and assigned them to the case. 'Tedesco will coordinate the effort,"
said DeAmicis, "Toschi will continue to be chief field investigator, while
Deasy will analyze the data police have assembled." By taking control of
the investigation from him, Police Chief Charles Gain, through DeAmicis,
could control Toschi's access to the media.

Toschi was also aware that someone was going through his papers. Was this
an effort to get something to use against Toschi should he prove a political
threat?

When reporters asked why Toschi was not put in charge of the effort,
DeAmicis said, "It's impossible for a detective to administrate and
investigate at the same time."

Toschi was uneasy. He was a sensitive and observant man, and he felt that
something was wrong.

Friday, May 5, 1978

"That city pig toschi is good but I am smarter and better he will get tired
and leave me alone," Zodiac had written in his new letter. Why had the
killer singled him out of all the counties and policemen involved? Had he
seen the detective on TV, or read something about Toschi that aroused him
or frightened him? Had

the investigator come close to discovering the maniac? Was Zodiac's true
name in one of the manila envelopes in Toschi's filing drawers, a man
already cleared or questioned?

"Do you think I should be concerned he mentioned me?" Toschi asked me.

"Be careful," 1 said.

Wednesday, June 14, 1978

Duffy Jennings came over to my desk while I was drawing the next day's
editorial cartoon and told me that a confidential meeting had been arranged
with Ron Pimentel of Oakland's Roper Detective Agency and an Oakland
policeman versed in handwriting identification. They had what they thought
was a hot piece of handprinting relating to Zodiac and wanted our opinion
on the sample, as well as a peek at the Chronicle's copies of the letters.
There was only one proviso for the meeting: "Don't tell Toschi." The
Oakland cop wanted to keep his theory secret from his

Thursday, June 15, 1978

Over the phone, the Oakland men would give us only the suspect's first
name. He promised to give us the last name only after we gave him our
opinion of the seven pages of writing samples they were to bring with them.
The meeting had already been delayed three times, and Duffy was getting
disgusted.

The Roper detective had gotten onto the man's trail after the suspect
attended the Zodiac movie three times and the theater management had
caught him masturbating in the John after the most violent scenes. The
Oakland men were able to get a fix on him because he dropped his name
and address in the box at the Golden Gate Theatre to win a motorcycle by
telling in twenty-five words why Zodiac kills. Tom Hansen, the movie
producer, had pledged $100,000 to the Roper Agency if they caught Zodiac,
the

to come from the profits the Zodiac movie would make from the capture.
The major motive for the Oakland policeman's involvement was not the
money, however, but the credit for the arrest of Zodiac.

Inspector Toschi's theory had always been that Zodiac got his sexual
satisfaction from masturbating while he wrote.

After the meeting was postponed again, I decided to find out who their
suspect was, based on the information we had already gotten from them.
From their conversations, I knew he lived somewhere in Santa Rosa, kept a
locker in San Francisco, was a Vietnam vet, worked as a mechanic, and was
from St. Louis.

I found him in my file of suspects.

He had been checked and cleared by Toschi and Armstrong.

Hie next day I finally saw the handprinting samples. They were not like
Zodiac's writing.

Monday, July 10, 1978

One day before Dave Toschi's forty-seventh birthday, after twenty-five yean
with the department, eighteen of them as a star of the elite homicide bureau
and nine of them chasing the elusive Zodiac, his entire world fell apart

'Shocker in S.F. Zodiac Case" read the headlines in the Oakland Tribune,

At 4:55 p.m., Chief Cain issued not only a press release announcing
Toschi's transfer from Homicide to Pawn Shop Detail, but also a second
press release doubting the authenticity of the new Zodiac letter, stating that
other experts would now examine it

A complaint, dated June 6,1978, had been filed by Armistead Maupin, a

Chronicle columnist, and his public relations man, Kenneth Maley, against
Toschi. Maupin and Maley felt that the latest Zodiac was similar in "tone"
to some anonymous fan letters Maupin had received praising Toschi, and
they thought Toschi had written them. In Maupin's popular serial, 'Tales of
the City," Toschi was featured as an adviser to the ficticious charac-

ter, "Inspector Tandy," whom Toschi eventually arrests as the infamous

Zodiac-like mass slayer "Tinkerbell."

The evening television news spoke of "a big political battle with a veteran
cop in the middle." Governor Jerry Brown's office offered "ex-Homicide
Inspector Toschi any assistance he may need in his case."

Duffy Jennings reached Toschi at home. The detective freely admitted

writing three letters praising himself to Maupin in 1976.

44 It was a silly mistake/' said Toschi. "He made me the hero of the story
and it was fun for me and my family. So I sent some notes, three or four,
saying how good it was that he put a real-life homicide inspector in the
column. It was kind of like sending fan mail to myself. It was done in a
harmless way. I didn't think anyone was going to be hurt by it. Any
suggestions that I faked a Zodiac letter are absolutely absurd.

"When Chief Gain told me that state documents experts had checked my
handwriting against that of Zodiac's over the weekend, I was shocked. I
wrote no Zodiac letter. The fact that Zodiac mentioned me by name for the
first time disturbed me and my family very much. I was very unnerved by
it."

Sherwood Morrill, who had formally held the post of state handwriting
examiner for CI&I, was enraged by the treatment of Toschi. 'The last letter
was by the real Zodiac. There is no question in my mind. I've heard they're
accusing Toschi of writing them. If Toschi wrote the last one, he's the
Zodiac. He wrote them all."

John Shimoda, David DeGarmo, Pleasant Hill handwriting expert, and

Morrill had all agreed the new Zodiac letter was real.

"I won't work on any Zodiac matters for the San Francisco department from
now on," Morrill said. "Armstrong and Toschi made the first contact with
me and I was doing it for them. I think Toschi's had too much publicity and
some people may not like it."

A silence descended over the Hall of Justice as furtive officials and Toschi's
jittery colleagues in Homicide were barred by Chief Gain from discussing
the Zodiac controversy.

Tuesday, July 11, 1978

Carol Toschi showed me into their living room. I saw Dave in a maroon
bathrobe just getting up from his chair. It looked as if every bone in his
body ached. He was completely exhausted, almost trancelike, with dark
circles under his eyes, a shadow of a beard giving his face a bleak look. He
had been ill in 1977 with a heart condition and pneumonia at the same time.
It was apparent Carol feared for his health.

"Look, Dave," she said, "he's brought you some books. Here's one on the
Big Bands."
Across the room I could see Channel 2's ten o'clock news and I figured
Toschi had been watching Maupin's press conference. Nodding toward the
set, Toschi said, arms outstretched, "I don't understand what I've done to the
man." He put his arm on my shoulder. "I hope you haven't lost respect for
me."

"Of course not," I said.

"Now they're saying I forged the last Zodiac letter/' he said.

Toschi told me that last Friday at 11:00 a.m. he had been called in by
DeAmicis to respond to the complaint and been told to think it over. At
1:00, he was interrogated concerning the allegations.

On Saturday at 3:10, DeAmicis came to the Toschi home and explained that
Cain had decided to treat the matter administratively, instead of a formal
charge before the commission. Toschi was to be transferred effective
Monday; a press release was to be drafted saying Dave had written three
letters to Maupin two years ago and signed other names. "Why should there
be a press release just because I'm being transferred?" asked Toschi.

Chronicle columnist Warren Hinckle, the colorful eye-patched muckraker,

wrote that "a go-getting writer and his side-kick publicist got the cops and
the press to jump through a publicity hoop. . . . Maupin made himself
famous this week at the expense of Dave Toschi, a decent cop with a
weakness for seeing his name in the paper. . . . The whole thing was a set
piece of ruining a man's reputation by innuendo. Police Chief Charles Cain
couldn't restrain himself from issuing a press release which in

effect sentenced Toschi to trial by media before the handwriting experts

could have a go at divining the truth."

Toschi told the Examiner that "linking those notes with the accusation of
forgery made me look guilty to the public of forging the Zodiac letters. The
mind naturally leaps from one event to the other. ... A theory has been
suggested to me—namely that Maupin and Maley, the only people to gain
anything from destroying me, set the police department up ... to stage a
media event that would call attention to Maupin's article and his book.
"Imagine that—a free-lance writer and his publicist says something about a
'similarity of tone' and twenty-five years of hard work goes down the drain]
Can a man be destroyed because of vague accusations about 'tone? You bet
he can!"

I looked at my notes about Toschi's career: How he dove into the surf by the
Cliff House and dragged a woman out, how he saved three people from gas
fumes in 1953, gave lifesaving first aid to a stabbed bartender in 1956,
disarmed a disgruntled employee, and cracked a Reno murder in less than
three hours. I saw how Toschi had almost been killed by twin shotgun blasts
from a window in the Mission and how he had charged up two flights of
stairs, kicked open the door, and arrested two youths.

When Toschi went in to clean out his desk, he learned that they had taken
his address book to check his handprinting. Supervisor Dianne Feinstein
spoke out after a visit to Toschi's home, where he was put under medical
care, "It's appalling. This man is being unjustly crucified by the department
without substantiation in a way that I have never seen another case
handled."

A week after Toschi's transfer, Gain stated that Toschi had not written the
Zodiac letter but he felt neither had the real Zodiac. He still considered the
Exorcist letter of 1974 genuine.

Morrill and DeCarmo felt that Cain had sabotaged any Zodiac trial in the
future.

On August 2, Gain made public for the first time the reports of three
handwriting experts. Shimoda, forbidden by his superiors to discuss the
Zodiac case, reversed his earlier authentication because he had worked
"only from photo copies" before. Terry

Pascoc, a former student of Morrill's, said it was a forgery. Pascoe's boss,

Robert Prouty, had been the one to originally cast doubt on the letter. Keith
L. Woodward of L.A.P.D. agreed it was a forgery.

"But," said Gain, "the writing is manufactured by someone that knows a

great deal about the background or the Zodiac's M.O. They knew every
little detail of how he wrote."

If Zodiac did not write the new letter, then who did?

Saturday, August 5, 1978

Over vacation, I took a long look at the April Zodiac letter. The writer had
correctly used double postage, inverted the stamps, printed "Please Rush to
Editor" with a downward slant, placed die odd punctuation of a colon after
"yours truly," used no punctuation after the salutation, and put everyone
else's name but his own in lowercase. The letter contained Zodiac's strange
spacing between words and letters and used a style of d and three-stroke k
used in 1969.

If the new letter was a fake and was done outside of S.F.P.D., what sort of
information would be available to a forger without access to the original
letters?

I carefully clipped every letter and envelope reprinted in the newspapers to

see just how much information the general public had been given about the
writing of the letters. Most letters had never been reprinted; those that were
were cropped or reduced in size. The author of the letters was someone who
had seen all of the letters, since character formations not used for nine years
were in the message.

One thing did bother me: the phrase "that city pig" had not been used
before. Zodiac usually called the police "blue mean-nies" or "blue pigs."
The second time I went through the letters, I found that phrase, very small
and upside down, in the October 5, 1970, postcard: "city police pig cops." It
was hardly the line a forger would reach for in composing a phony letter.
But it was a line that would be in the killer's memory.

If it were a forgery, no one outside of the police investigation could produce

such a perfect copy, incorporating information never before released. For a
jealous insider the motive would be to discredit Toschi. But the forger
would have no way of knowing that the letter would ever be found false.
The weather this evening was warm and a shaft of strong sunlight cut
through the picture window. I had laid out reproductions of all the Zodiac
correspondence on the rug and, taking advantage of the illumination, I held
the April letter over copies of earlier Zodiac communications to see if there
were any interesting contradictions. There were none.

I took the photocopy of the April letter, tore it neatly in half, and began
matching lettering on the top part with lettering on the lower half. They
matched perfectly. A little too perfectly. It was as if the writer had used a set
of rubber stamps to print the note. No one writes like that.

Was the April letter traced and had Zodiac not returned as I thought? I knew
it was common for Zodiac to stop in the middle of a carefully drawn
communication and cross out a word, just as he did in the new letter. Why
not just redo the letter? It was almost as if he were not writing words but
laboriously printing one single character after another.

I tore one of the earlier Zodiac letters in half and held the halves over each
other against the intense light. Suddenly, I realized how the Zodiac letters
had been done.

The procedure used was probably this:

Zodiac photographed onto a strip of 35-mm film individual letters of the

alphabet collected from a variety of sources, such as friends or people that
he worked with. The film strip was placed into a photographic enlarger, and
each individual character was projected from above by the enlarger one at a
time onto the paper and traced with a blue felt-tip pen. A light table, a table
with a glass top illuminated from below to make tracings, might be used in
tandem with the overhead projector. The size and slant of the individual
characters could be changed by a simple touch of the enlarger or turn of the
paper.

In using an overhead projector, Zodiac could produce hand-

printing that was not his own but a conglomeration of other peoples'
handprinting.
The process would be agonizingly slow. This would explain why, in writing
his first letter in more than three years, the killer had scratched out words in
a neatly drawn letter rather than start over. The killer would have had to
have access to a private photo darkroom for the considerable periods of
time it would take to draft one letter.

In using this ingenious process, the killer totally altered his handprinting.
The police could check his natural writing and still find no connection to
the Zodiac letters.

Zodiac had left clues to his untraceable technique all through his letters.
The fact is inescapable that not even a professional artist could lay out 340
cipher symbols so neatly in block form, each character identical in size and
slant, without some sort of projected grid.

Somewhere a master alphabet must exist so that future letters could be

penned.

I was sure that the technique used on the new letter provided the one link
that all the communications had in common. The April letter was from
Zodiac. He was back!

Sherwood Morrill confirmed my theory.

Donald Jeff Andrews

Wednesday. August 9, 1978

"I can tell you who Zodiac is," said the anonymous voice on my phone on
the evening of August 9,1978. "He's so fuD of movies he has a record of his
activities on film." Jack Rosenbaum in the San Francisco Progress had
mentioned I was investigating the Zodiac case. The caller got my name
from that.

The caller refused to give me his name, but agreed to my taping our
conversation. He went on with his story.
"1 have a mutual friend, Greg, who is a ham radio operator who talked to
this man at night. He's a guy named Don Andrews.* Back in 1969 he was
coming out of a period of deep depression.

"Well, if there's anyone who could be the Zodiac, then it is this fellow,
Andrews. My friend Greg told me about him, and I told him he was all wet.
But as the years have unfolded, we keep finding out things about Andrews
that fit, nothing that doesn't."

The caller then told me that Andrews was the man Narlow in Napa was
interested in.

"I don't know why Narlow has held back. I'm convinced that

•Both names have been changed

he doesn't know what to do. Narlow spent six hours with Andrews one day.
Don just talked a mile a minute. Narlow told me, 'He had me so confused I
couldn't even write a report when it was over/ This guy takes over when
you're around him and talks.

"He's not in bad health. I've seen him since 72. But his eyesight is poor. I
wouldn't be afraid of him. I'm six foot three. He would be more terrorizing
than physically threatening. His mind would scare you more than his
physical strength.

"At an early job he was let go because he couldn't get along with people. He
had access to the weather teletype there. I don't know why he got interested
in weather.

"Narlow keeps Don's file locked in his desk. All the other suspects out in
the open in other places.

"He relates strongly to Lon Chaney. He's got kind of a rounded back like
the hunchback.

"One person, Marvin Bernell,* has spent a lot of time with Don. He's
storing some old film cans for Andrews and that's where we think the
evidence of the Zodiac murders is at."

"Does Bernell know this?" I asked.

"No. He thinks he's just storing a bunch of old film cans, 35-mm. Don told
him, 'Don't go close to these. They've got nitrate film in them. They might
explode'—which is true. We had seen these canisters at the theater that
Bernell runs. The next time Greg and I went down we found they were gone
and then discovered that they had been moved to a vault behind red curtains
in Bernell's home.

"Do you understand? What we think is that there is evidence from each
particular murder and one can has a booby trap with an explosive if you
open it up.

"Get to Bernell and be friendly with him to find out. I have some
misgivings about him. He's an ex-cop. Probably he suspects nothing. Talk
to him. See if he tells you to stay away from part of his film collection. He
hauls film back and forth for Don. Andrews lived on Scott Street in San
Francisco in the late sixties."

I learned that Paul Avery had been on to Don Andrews and

•Not hit real name.

at one point had sent his girlfriend around to get handwriting samples.
Andrews heard that Avery had been asking around about him and actually
had come down to the Chronicle to tell him to lay off. The samples Avery
had, only "three or four words/' did not look like Zodiac printing, but with
my new knowledge I realized this did not eliminate Don as a suspect.

"Toschi knows about him/' the caller told me.

"Toschi cleared him because when he went to Eton's home there was a
grisly handprinted sign in the window and it didn't match the Zodiac's
printing. Toschi thought it was a big joke."
The caller told me that Don was raised by a stepmother, his father was very
religious, and there were family problems.

The caller spoke with me long distance for over an hour. He read to me
from notes; I could hear the pages as he turned them. The most promising
thing I heard was that he had a thirty-by-forty-inch felt-tip-pen movie poster
that Don had done for his friend, Bernell.

After he hung up, I thought for a while. He had known a little too much
about the case.

And he had called me at an unlisted number.

Saturday, August 26, 1978

I went to visit Sherwood Morrill in the sweltering heat of Sacramento. A

vigorous man, clad in a sports T-shirt, he settled back in an easy chair while
I turned on my tape recorder and asked him a few questions. After a while
he asked me to turn off the machine. He wanted to tell me something that
happened last month, and it was something he didn't want on tape at this
time.

"A big guy and his wife in a V.W. drove up," he said, "and asked my wife,
Rose, if they could see me. Tm real interested in the Zodiac case. I've got
some news for Mr. Morrill,' said the man, 'that will make him and me sleep
better. I'm only a citizen. I spent a great deal of time coming down from
Yountville. It's about that letter. I know it's from Zodiac and not Toschi.'

"Well, I was at lunch with Dave DeGarmo, another handwrit-

ing identification expert, he's with the Public Defender's Office now. The
couple seemed greatly agitated and Rose told them I wouldn't be back from
lunch until 2:30 and they said they would wait.

"When I got back," continued Morrill, "he and his wife both came in. He
said his name was Wallace Penny." (The name of this person has been
altered at his request.) "His hands were shaking. He's nervous as all hell. He
tried to top me every time I mentioned something about Zodiac. He says,
'Wait til you hear this!' He had a great big theory. Til only take five minutes
of your time,' he said. He took an hour and a half. He told me, 'Mr. Toschi
would sleep better tonight' and then he told me the name of the man he
thought was really the Zodiac."

At this point I stopped Morrill and asked him if he would tell me the name
of the suspect. He began the name and I finished it for him.

"My God," 1 said, "that's the name of my suspect! Don Andrews."

It was also the name of Ken Narlow's mystery suspect.

The handwriting samples the couple brought Morrill matched up pretty well
with Zodiac printing, with the exception of the letter K.

The couple knew many details only the killer should have known. Morrill
told his wife after they'd left, "If Don Andrews isn't the Zodiac, then it
could be them."

Rose Morrill had shivered, looked at her husband, and whispered, "You
might have just shaken hands with the Zodiac!"

"And you know, Robert," said Morrill, "I had the feeling that the man
wanted to confess to something."

Tuesday, August 29, 1978

I drove to Vallejo to speak with Lieutenant Jim Husted, head of the

Intelligence Section of V.P.D. He was excited about the possible return of
Zodiac and promised to show me two of their suspects.

Husted took a file out of a metal cabinet behind his desk. He began to tell
me things about this first suspect—his interest in films, his code school
training, the unusual items kept in his home. "This man was given a
speeding ticket in his white Chevy at Tahoe at the time Donna Lass
disappeared," he told me.

I recognized the man as Andy Todd Walker, the first major Zodiac suspect.
Friday, August 25, 1978

By phone I spoke to Wallace Penny, the man from Yountville who had so
upset Morrill on July 5. I instantly recognized his voice. He was the same
man who had tipped me off anonymously about Ken Narlow's suspect, Eton
Andrews.

What I learned from Penny was that Andrews was "nervous, frenetic, and
temperamental and often exhibited hostility toward sex. However, he seems
to have had a female friend.

"He's a Gilbert and Sullivan fan and has quoted lyrics in front of friends,"
Penny said.

Not only had Andrews had code training, but he had a sewing machine in
his home. Was this the answer to where Zodiac was able to get a
personalized black hood?

Penny told me that Andrews had showed him blueprints for Zodiac's 1969
school bus bomb based on plans in a book he owned. The Zodiac bomb
plans were never printed anywhere.

"Don Andrews collects classic films/* said Penny.

The crossed-circle symbol of the Zodiac could be inspired by the

projectionist symbol on the film leader.

"Don is ambidextrous. He has told his friends, 'I may look O.K. on the
outside but inside. . . .' This parallels Zodiac's statement, Tm insane but the
game must go on,' " Penny told me.

Zodiac and Andrews both wear glasses that are held on by a band.

According to Penny, Andrews has been known to confide to his friends,

"What I have is better than sex."

"Not only that," Penny continued. "Andrews has used so many

names that Social Security asked that he settle on one. Andrews started for
Montana in 1961 with a teenager named Jim to apply for a new birth
certificate. When he reached Montana, he put his name down on the
certificate as Jim Andrews."

Andrews was the only suspect who had any sort of elaborate photo
darkroom. He kept a teletype machine in his home. Teletype paper had been
used in the first Zodiac letter. I remembered what Ken Narlow, the Napa
detective, had told me, "I've got a lulu on Don. Down in his basement he
has a teletype machine, a Model 15 AP Teleprinter. I tell you, Robert,
there's no question in my mind that whoever drew up the article on the
bomb" (Zodiac's November 1969 school bus bomb diagram) "has got to
have definite knowledge of that teletype printer." Narlow had shown me the
comparison between a photo of the teletype machine's armature rotation
system and brush contacts and the killer's schematic drawing of the
explosive device.

Zodiac's costume combined naval elements such as bellbottom ; pants,

military shoes, and nylon windbreaker. Andrews was a Navy man.

One month before the first Zodiac letter done in handprinting, Andrews
began a friendship with a man named Marvin Bernell. After Andrews and
Bernell met, the Zodiac messages were printed in a style of handprinting
very similar to that Bernell used in printing black-felt-tip movie posters at
his theater. Perhaps Andrews had copied BerneD's style.

Once again, Penny mentioned that he and his friend Greg thought that
evidence of the Zodiac killings was in a film canister in BerneD's film
vault. "Stine's shirt, sets of car keys, and maybe a film of the Lake Herman
Road murders are in that film can. It's marked clearly on the side: 'Do Not
Open, Nitrate Film, Danger.' " Penny said he had seen the canister when it
was in San Francisco. Perhaps the police had not checked it because Bernell
had moved to southern California, where he had a theater.

Saturday, August 26, 1978

I drove to Andrews' place.

No sooner had I gotten over to Don's mailbox than a big man came running
over shouting, "What do you want?"

"I was looking for Don," I said, although it was obvious no one was living
there now.

"He's not here, he's in San Francisco."

"Damn," I said, reaching for a pen. "What's his new address?"

"If you're a friend find out his address!"

The guy stood there with his hands on his hips until I drove off.

I got the feeling I had been expected.

Even though Narlow was unable to establish any sort of proficiency with
weapons as far as Don Andrews was concerned, he had told me that "Don is
still my best bet."

I had asked him about the prints.

"We had his prints checked. We never brought him in, actually, never asked
to roll his prints. We never had enough cause to do it and I'm not sure he
would have consented. He might have. The more we started leaning on him,
the more naturally defensive he got. The first couple of times we talked to
him he was very open. Then it got to the point where he said, 'Either do
something or leave me alone.' The first time we went to his house over by
the water, we were there several hours. Very intelligent person, very
interesting person. He didn't seem to mind talking about his past."

Monday, August 28, 1978

Penny had told me that Don Andrews was "hill of movies" and had once
worked at a small cinema in Southern California with his friend Marvin
Bernell. Bernell had once been a silent movie organist. Their friendship had
lasted from early 1967 until the present. Penny had never gotten up enough
nerve to approach Bernell and find out if he knew any information about
Zodiac or a link to the vintage film theater.
It was night when I arrived in L.A. I took a rental car from the airport to the
theater on North Highlands Avenue to see if BerneD was anywhere around.
There were no silent films tonight, but BerneD was at the cinema to see part
of the 3-D movie being shown.

Even in the blackness of the loge seats I could pick out Bernell from the
front row. Because of the black leather jump suit he wore, he seemed to
have no body. He reminded me of the giant head of Oz floating in midair.

I went up to him during intermission and started up a conversation. He

began to talk a mile a minute, with bold flourishing gestures. An almost
Barrymore profile made him one with the old films he had once
accompanied on his giant Wurlitzer Pipe Organ.

He was a portly man with a face that, in his sixties, was beginning to grow
fat. He had an eye problem, and in order to write his home address he had
to put on his dark-rimmed glasses.

"I can't see without glasses," he said "I'm going to be on vacation and do a
little business, but I'll be back in September."

Friday, September 1, 1978

I made the drive to Sacramento to speak with Morrill about the comparisons
between Don Andrews and Zodiac.

"Wen," said Morrill, "I've talked about Don Andrews with the guy who's the
chief special agent of CI&I and I mentioned some of the stuff you told me.
Toschi said, 'Armstrong checked these two guys out, Andrews and Wallace
Penny. I don't know how he checked them out.' Dave said, 'Do whatever
you want with it,' " said Morrill.

"He thinks very highly of you, incidentally. The poor guy, before I got
through talking to him, he started crying. And I felt really bad that I even
brought the subject up at all.

"Penny laid everything on Andrews. Like I told you, I thought for a while
after he left that night that maybe he was Don Andrews. Dave tells me they
checked it out and they are two

different people. Then Penny kept talking about this third party that's in the
middle."

"That would be Bernell, Andrews' friend," I said.

"He never mentioned his name to me, though. I've never seen any of his
handprinting and I've never seen any of Penny's handprinting. I wrote to
him in hopes that he would answer. I tried to butter him up," said Morrill.
"Now Dave DeGarmo, my associate, he's got some contacts over in Marin
County and Sonoma County, he's trying to find something out on Don
Andrews. So far nothing.

"Penny did leave me some of Andrews' handprinting on a poster, though.

I'll get it out in a minute. You know, Robert, if Zodiac is ambidextrous, it
would account for the difference in slant, or in the case of transparencies in
copying it word for word from somebody else's stuff. When he does the
straight up-and-down stuff, I agree they're either tracings or transparencies,"
said Morrill.

"Penny has had his suspicions about Don Andrews for five, six years," I
said, "and hasn't done anything about it, so I'm going to be seeing the
organist in Southern California and we'll see what he does. San Francisco
doesn't seem to have anything."

"Well, Tedesco [Toschi's replacement] called the other night to see if I

would look at all the letters. 'I'm off the case. You can tell Mr. Cain I'm not
going to look at anything for San Francisco P.D. anymore,' I told him.
Tedesco kind of laughed nervously and he said, 'I think I understand your
view.'"

Morrill took out the photo Penny had brought as a sample of Don Andrews'
printing. It was a hand-drawn movie poster done in black felt-tip pen.

"That's beautiful," I said.

"Some of the things don't quite match in this exemplar, but enough of them
do to make you wonder an awful lot."

I asked Morrill if he had any theories of his own.

"Yeah. Do you suppose, Robert, that there may be more than one guy
involved? Now I'm thinking about Wallace Penny and Don Andrews.
Penny's sure strong enough, six foot four and 240. Suppose one of them is
doing the writing and the other's doing the killing.

"Outside of the letters," he continued, "what evidence do the police have?

They're grasping at straws. The day Wallace Penny showed up at my house
to tell me about Don Andrews, I sat down with my wife, Rose, and talked
with her about the Zodiac case. I didn't realize until Penny left that he knew
too much about things that the police have never revealed. I'm not sure I
didn't have the Zodiac sitting right here in the room with me and didn't
know it, didn't realize it."

"I've started up to go see him at his carpentry shop a couple of times," I

said, "but I've canceled out every time. I just get a weird feeling about
driving up there."

"Robert, you better be careful," cautioned MorriD. "I'm not worried about
him doing anything to me, but I'm real worried about his motives in the
Zodiac case. There could be some danger for you. I wouldn't get alone with
the guy."

"Penny has the wildest theory in the world," I said. "He thinks that Andrews
made a film of one of his murders and has put it in a film canister booby-
trapped to explode and destroy the evidence."

"Ha! I hadn't heard that one. The thing you're going to have to find for me,
Robert, is some more handprinting. Don Andrews', Penny's and Andrews'
friend, BerneD ..."

"Let's check them all."

"Don Andrews particularly."

"I sure would like to know what Armstrong did to clear Andrews."

"I don't know unless the fingerprint didn't match," said Morrill. "I always
thought Armstrong was real intelligent. He and Toschi made a heck of a
good pair."

"I was told Ken Narlow went down after the last Zodiac letter and talked to
Andrews. Andrews immediately had his phone disconnected. It's a strange
reaction," I said. "Narlow talked to him for six hours and he went away with
his head spinning."

When I got back to San Francisco, there was a letter in my mail box from
Marvin BerneD, agreeing to a meeting at his home on the thirteenth. When
I saw BernelTs handprinting, I realized that it was he

who had drawn the movie poster that Penny had given to Morrill as a
sample of Don's printing.

Wednesday, September 13, 1978

I met with Bernell in the evening at his home near Riverside. He showed
me into a large old-fashioned living room. Somehow Bernell knew I had
come to talk to him about more than his silent film collection. Perhaps his
old friend, the elusive Don Andrews, had seen several newspaper articles
that mentioned a book on Zodiac that I was writing. If Don had warned his
friend not to say too much to me, did he feel there was some sort of
connection between himself and the search for Zodiac?

Bernell sat on a couch to my right. I asked him a few questions about the
strange link between Zodiac, himself, and movies.

'To be honest," I said, "when I got your letter from L.A. and saw the
handprinting at the bottom, I was really startled. It's amazingly similar to
the printing done on the Zodiac letters/' I looked at him intently, trying to
gauge his reaction, but he remained impassive. I changed the subject.

"Zodiac made several allusions to films in his letters to the papers. For
instance, Zodiac mentions The Most Dangerous Game. Did that film ever
play at your theater?"

"Oh, heavens yes," Bernell trilled. "I don't know how many times."

"Did you show it around 1968-69?"

"I started with the theater about '69," he acknowledged, "and Dangerous
Game could have come in. But it's been there much more than twice
because it's a classic of its kind."

"Marvin, Zodiac mentioned The Most Dangerous Game in his three-part

cipher and then went on to attack two people at Lake Berryessa wearing a
costume with a hood and carrying a knife that was a duplicate to the one
that Count Zaroff wore in the movie. I feel that Zodiac may have modeled
his knife and his costume, to a certain extent, after that movie. Too, in one
of Zodiac's letters, he mentioned the 'Red Phantom.' I've learned recently

that there was a silent film called El Spectre Rojo. " (An early Pathe FrAres
Film.)

"I have a copy of it," said Bernell guardedly, leaning forward. "Did Zodiac
mention that?"

"He used that as a pen name."

Bernell laughed nervously, covering his teeth with a white hand. 'That's
pretty funny, because we had a zodiac ceiling in our old theater in L.A.," he
said. "A lot of people don't even notice it. Their eyes are more concentrated
down front on the screen." He paused. "Now let's see. El Spectre Rojo is a
silent film, but I don't know how he could have known about it. It was
considered a lost film until someone from Thunderbird Films found the
original hand-tinted print. It's first announcement of sale was . . ." He
thought for a moment. "I could do a little digging."

"Zodiac's letter mentioned the phantom in 1974," I said.

"Well, that would be about right. I first saw that film then and decided to
buy a 16-mm copy when it was shown at the annual film collectors'
convention in Canada."

I pointed out to him that in one of the killer's letters he mentioned the
"piano organist." Bernell had once been a silent film organist. "Then there's
his symbol," I continued, "the crossed circle. Isn't the same symbol used on
a film leader when they count down?"

"Yeah, you'll find that symbol on the leader beginning a film."

"Of course," I said, "the police have always thought of it as a rifle sight."

"No, when I saw it in the paper I recognized it as an academy [standard]

leader. To help sustain the house I've been running commercial films, recent
films instead of the classics. Not a very good deal, but we get a modest
turnout. I do everything. Do the posters too, but I will not leave my more
elaborate posters around the theater; too much chance of damage. On the
other hand, these flimsy things . . ." Bernell gestured with an outstretched
hand toward the poster blowup that Wallace Penny had offered as a sample
of Don Andrews' printing. "Such as you have a copy of there. There is no
particular point of preserving those. They're just wadded up and thrown out
after the show."

'Then you arc the one who printed this poster? We'd been under the
impression that a man named Don Andrews . . ." I paused. "He used to
work for you, I believe."

"He has," said Bernell stiffly.

"The police, in checking him out as a Zodiac suspect, thought the posters
were done by him. They used this copy of a movie poster as his
handprinting sample."

I showed Bernell photographic enlargements of the letters, pointing out

certain areas where they resembled the poster. "Do you have a sample of
Don's real handprinting?"

"I don't have any letters from him," he said softly. "I don't have any
occasion to have any correspondence with him anymore."
"My guess is that Zodiac was influenced by the handprinting on one of your
movie posters," I told him. "I think he saw the posters you did in black felt-
tip pen and discarded and photographed the letters to trace onto his
communications to the press."

Bernell had been very nervous. But after he brought back his film records,
along with coffee and chocolate cake, we checked the projection dates for
The Most Dangerous Game and learned it had last played in May 1969.

Bernell was a charming, friendly man and not threatening in any way, but I
sensed there was a lot he was not telling me. Alone with him in this old
house, I had the feeling that any moment a stocky man in a black hood
could step into the room holding a pistol. After all, no one knew where Don
Andrews was.

Finally, I went down to the basement with Bernell to see his impressive
collection of films. It covered one wall and part of another. I looked at the
canisters wondering if what Wallace Penny had told me was true: that
Zodiac had hidden evidence from one of the killings and a film of the Lake
Herman murders in a 35-mm film canister marked "Do Not Open—Nitrate
Film —Danger!" and that he had given this to Bernell to keep for him in
case his room was ever searched by the police.

Bernell steered me away from the films after he noticed the intense way I
was looking at the canisters. He led me over to

where he lettered his movie posters. The felt-tip-pen printing looked like
enlargements of the Zodiac handprinting.

If there was a booby-trapped film canister, I tried to imagine what an

explosion could do to a ramshackle three-story frame i house like this.
Decaying nitrate film was, after all, TNT.

Once again Bernell assured me we were completely alone. But I could hear,
faintly but unmistakably, the slow, methodical, easy tread of footsteps on
the floor above.
I pretended not to notice. I wasn't too worried: my friends knew where I
was, and all the information I learned about Andrews I had given to
Lieutenant Husted in Vallejo.

I met a second time with Bernell to discuss his friend's possible connection
with Zodiac. "I heard that Zodiac may have hidden evidence of his crimes
in a silent film canister rigged to explode if opened," I said, "and left this
with an unknowing friend."

The organist's broad smile vanished. He flushed, looked embar-

i rassed, and when his smile came back it was in such a way that

his lips pulled back over his gums, completely exposing his teeth.

I thought to myself that perhaps in the past Bernell had been asked to keep
such a canister by his friend and now suspected he may have been used. I
described the label.

"Don has given me such a canister, marked as you say," he said.

Wallace Penny had been right! Such a film canister existed. I tried to look
calm, although my pulse rate was accelerating by the second. "Do you
know where it is now?" I asked.

"He took it back. Nineteen seventy-two, I think it was."

"Damn!" If Don Andrews was Zodiac, no one would ever see that canister
again.

Bernell was staring at the floor. He was terribly worried about the
handprinting connection between himself and the Zodiac letters.

"Are you ambidextrous?" I asked.

"No," he said. "I'm right-handed."

"Then you don't have anything to worry about. Zodiac's ambidextrous."

Bernell looked like I had hit him between the eyes with a hammer.

"Don uses his left hand when he cuts films/' Bernell said, "writes with his
right. I guess he's ambidextrous."

This was a fact about Don that I had known long before I came to
Riverside. The look on Bernell's face convinced me that he knew nothing
about his friend's possible connection with the murders.

Bernell told me Don Andrews had left San Francisco in 1975 and had been
out of state until the beginning of 1978. This might account for the long
delay in letters and the phrase "I am back with you . . ."

I asked Bernell if Andrews was back in San Francisco. Bernell thought for a
moment, walked across the room, and stood with his back to me, in front of
the fireplace. He said he wasn't sure.

Tuesday, September 19, 1978

I had been receiving breathing phone calls at work for some time They
almost always came at 10:30 a.m.

This evening, I called Bernell at his Riverside home to ask him some more
questions about his friend.

"Marvin, I've never seen Don," I said. "If I read you this description, would
you tell me where it's wrong?" I asked.

"WeB . . r

"I'll try it, O.K.?" I said. "He's a white male adult, steel heavyset, about five
feet eight inches tall. He has a slighl rounded back, has a paunch, and in '69
he had crew-cut hair that was slightly curled, with sort of a reddish tint. He
would be about thirty-five. He wears black thick-rimmed glasses and he
holds them in place with a thin band of elastic. He's rather barrel-chested,
sort of beefy but firm."

"Well, he is chunky, he is stout," said Bernell. "I guess he hJ held his

glasses in place with a rubber band. There is a fluff to hi* hair, I suppose."
"They say he has a very full face. Is his face ... f

itly'

234

"It goes with Ac body. It's chunky," said Bernefl.

Bernell had plans of getting together with Don and going into business with
him. For the time being, Andrews was returning to work in the Bay Area. It
was hard to understand how BerneU, as a potential business partner, could
not know his friend's new address.

OceanofPDF.com
BerneD told me Andrews had been developing arthritis since 1969. Was
this the reason Zodiac had stopped killing? Would progression of this
condition be noticeable by experts in the later Zodiac letters 7

"Don has a prepossessing appearance," said BerneD, "and most people

wouldn't cotton to him. He seems smug. He's the kind of man who could do
anything under any circumstances. He puts every penny into acquiring
photo machinery

When I asked BerneD about Don's handwriting, he said, "He has a

laborious way of working on any sort of writing. He uses felt-tip pens for
almost everything."

Don Andrews was an intriguing suspect. But I could go no further until I

could find him and until I could speak to Nariow about him

Andrews had made an enemy of a woman who worked in the personnel

section of the radio station he had worked for, and she got me handprinting
samples. But these were not enough for Morrill to rule him out or in as a
suspect.

I learned the identities of the teenage witnesses to the Srine killing and
showed them a picture of Eton Andrews. They thought be was "too old and
too fat"

I later developed my own doubts that Andrews was the man.

Thursday, May 3, 1979

At 11:05 p.m., Sergeant Ralph Wilson of Vaflejo called me unexpectedly.

"It's the weirdest thing," he said. "I've been thinking about the Zodiac killer,
and right in the middle of checking out records on

a cop who once dated Darlene Ferrin, I got a phone call from an
unidentified informant who says he's afraid he's going to be murdered."
I began to get chills up and down my spine. I knew Sergeant Wilson
wouldn't be calling me unless something really was up.

'This informant fingered an ex-roommate who he thinks is going to kill him

because he knows the roommate is the Zodiac/' continued Wilson. "This
guy is scared out of his mind. The suspect lived on a ranch. He's moody, an
expert with weapons, and he's got photos and exhibits of the Ferrin murder.
He's got all the photos of the victims. We now think he was the unidentified
man who had the argument with Darlene Ferrin at the restaurant. He's into
the occult. He's into cryptography, and he looks like the composite drawing.
He was fired from the sheriffs department," said Wilson. "Let me just refer
to him as 'Jack' to avoid any problems."

As far as I was concerned, Don Andrews was the best suspect in the case,
but I wanted to hear every possibility.

According to Wilson, access to the roads where the crimes were committed
had been a problem during the short time in 1969 when Jack was a prime
suspect in Darlene Ferrin's murder. There seemed to be no way he could get
to the murder scenes and back home in the time allowed. Now, thanks to the
unknown informant, Sergeant Wilson learned of a small road that opened
out on Lake Herman Road. The road was closed by a gate with three
combination locks. Jack supposedly knew the combinations and used this
ranch road to commit his murders and return home. This could explain why
Mrs. Borges did not see Zodiac's car when she drove straight into Benicia
on narrow Lake Herman Road and flagged down a patrol car.

Sergeant Wilson promised to get back to me the minute something broke.

He had to wait until the informant called again and let him know who he
was. "I knew this Jack," said Wilson. "He's capable of anything."

Sunday, June 24, 1979

Toschi dragged after a ten-hour work detail, nursing a throbbing ankle. But
he had to give a pleased smile when he saw a Sunday Progress article about
him. It told how, after not quite a year, he had been reinstated to his former
rank. Reminded, he gave a relieved laugh. Now he had worked all the four
units of crimes against persons: Sex, Homicide, Aggravated Assault, and
now Robbery. He was back on top again.

I felt good. At our morning editorial conferences I had had an opportunity

to speak to two mayors, Moscone and Feinstein, about promoting him. I
would like to think that might have helped.

Tuesday, June 26, 1979

I learned that "Jack" had sold his ranch and used the money to buy a bar in
Nevada. To see if he compared physically to Zodiac, I made the trip by car.

When I arrived in die evening, he was playing at the second of two plush
pool tables. He was tall, thin, and bald as an egg.

His fingerprints had been checked against the bloody print on Stine's cab
and come up negative. The photos he had of Darlene's body at the scene he
admitted he had taken as a "souvenir" when he left the police department.
They were official autopsy and crime scene photos.

I was convinced that he was not Zodiac.

Zodiac

Friday, July 27, 1979

Since March I had been working on breaking the large 340-symbol cipher
that had defied the most sophisticated codebreak-ers and computers at the
CIA, NSA, and FBI (Zodiac's sixth letter, November 8, 1969; see facing
page).

Most people thought that this cipher was a joke on the part of the killer and
that it had no meaning. But in the sixth line of the cipher, Zodiac had made
a correction. Since he had worked so painstakingly to create an almost
flawless block of symbols, it was unlikely that he would mar it by crossing
out one and writing a different one if the symbol meant nothing.

If Zodiac had mentioned Herb Caen, the Chronicle's famous columnist, in

1978, then it was possible that he had mentioned Caen in 1969 as well. The
first three letters of the large cipher were "H E R." I asked myself if any of
the symbols in the 340-character cipher bore the same meaning as those
solved by the Hardens in Zodiac's first letter. I found they did. The
remaining five symbols spelled out " C E A N B ." Combined with the "H E
R," this was an only slightly transposed version of "HERB CAEN."

It was only fair to figure that Zodiac had transposed some of the remaining
cipher as well. There were many spelling and coding mistakes in the
Harden solution, and I also took this into account.

Caen's name was the key word in the cipher. Using these eight symbols as a
Rosetta Stone, some of the cryptogram began to make sense.

On the third line from the bottom of the cipher were the letters "POSHT/." I
knew that "H" stood for H and that the word could be an anagram for
"TOSCHI."

Once again I tried to imagine what Zodiac might have been like in 1969,
what thoughts he might have had, and whom he might have considered his
enemy. Herb Caen, for one. And I found what could be Sergeant Les
Lundblad's name on the ninth line.

I think one reason the 340-symbol cipher remained unsolved for so many
years is that Zodiac mentioned many of the proper names of his antagonists
and places where his murders occurred. To cryptographers in the East, these
names would be just so much gibberish.

Slowly, the cipher began to produce words and parts of words. The word
"SEE" and the incomplete word "RN_AOD" were revealed. The last was
the transposed word "PARDON"; this

gave me a symbol for P. In the fifteenth line "ECBU " was

likely "BECAUSE"; this gave me more meanings.

The letter that Zodiac enclosed with the cipher was a great help. It reminded
me of the formal way of speaking he adopted, his manner of being polite
and vicious at the same time, and his anger at "the lies" the police were
telling about him. He wrote of having killed seven victims, so I looked for
letter patterns that might spell "eighth," referring to his next victim. He
mentioned the police telling lies about him in a letter written the next day
(November 9,1969), so I looked for the recurring word 'lies." He often
ended his sentences with "etc," so I looked for that.

Zodiac had started by creating a substitution cipher, symbols substituted for

alphabet characters, and then transposed these symbols, creating a
substitution-transposition cipher. Each alpha-

bet character could be represented by multiple symbols. Transposition

ciphers are more difficult to solve than substitution ciphers.

The killer had used sixty-five different symbols in the cipher with forty-
three of these occurring five times or less. Only two (" + " and "B")
occurred more than ten times. Zodiac was using something very different
from the cipher broken by the Hardens.

If only the cipher had been a few lines longer! Experts stated that more
symbols would have given a computer enough material to check all possible
combinations and hand back the answer.

Sunday, July 29, 1979

I felt that I was nearing an answer. I worked every night on the code.
Sometimes when I stopped to look up at the white walls of my office, I
would see the lines of the symbols in front of me.

By 11:00 p.m. I finally thought I had the answer to one of the great
"unbreakable" ciphers of the last decade.

The Hardens had solved the three-part cipher by looking for double-L
combinations, the most common. I found triple-L combinations, deliberate
misspellings to throw off cryptoanalysts: "PILLL," "ALLL," "ALLLSO,"
and "WILLL."

In my solution, I found Zodiac had used ten different characters for the
letter E, nine for S, and seven for A. The recurring symbol, the backward C,
turned out to stand for nothing.

In the morning, I sent my solution to the cryptographers' convention then

meeting at Kent State. If my answer was valid, they would know. And they
might improve on any mistakes I had made.

Monday, August 6, 1979

While I was working on my editorial cartoon ideas for Tuesday, my phone

rang. It was Greg MeDen, from the American Cryptogram Association.
"Congratulations," he said, "you've broken the Zodiac code."

At that moment, San Francisco was hit by the biggest earthquake it had
experienced in sixty-eight yean. High-rise buildings in the downtown area
began to sway, and people in my office stood up and some left the room.

"What's going on?" said the code expert.

"We're having an earthquake here. People are leaving."

"Do you want to call me back?" said Mellen.

"No," I said, "this is more important. Go on."

Just then, the city was hit by the aftershock.

Mellen decided to write me the details rather than talk any longer.

Wednesday, August 8, 1979

"Dear Mr. Graysmith," Greg Mellen wrote, "As I was saying just before the
earthquake ... Congratulations on having broken the second Zodiac cipher.
Both Zodiac messages are homophonic ciphers [ciphers using multiple
substitutes for a single letter], with the second complicated by an added,
apparently random, transposition of the letters of each word. Homophonic
ciphers date from at least the fifteenth century [1412] and are not
uncommon. . . .
'The errors in spelling and in encipherment are to be expected and are
within an acceptable range. I regret I can't supply you with additional 'clues'
in breaking the second message; you have abstracted all the information
that is there."

Eugene Waltz of the American Cryptogram Association wrote to me also. "I

had an opportunity to speak with Greg Mellen at the ACA convention and
we are both agreed that your solution is good and valid. We also hope that it
leads to an early arrest of Zodiac. The successful solution of a cipher such
as this requires intuition, good luck, and most of all dogged perseverance to
spend hour upon hour of ofttimes fruitless effort to add a value or to
determine the validity of values already assumed. You are to be
congratulated, not only for breaking the cipher, but for your willingness to
spend the hours and the effort to do so."

Earlier, I had turned the cipher key and solution over to the VaDejo P.D.
Here is what the cipher said.

Zodiac had used a series of nulls including a backward c and multiple l's
and the word "it" placed at random. The letter k stood (or both k and s. I
have left these out as well as adding punctuation and spacing so that it reads
as a letter to Herb Caen, which I believe was the cipher's original purpose.

HERB CAEN

I GIVE THEM HELL TOO BLAST THESE LIES SLUETH SHOELD

[SHOULD] SEE A NAME BELOW KILLEERS FILM A PILLS GAME.
PARDON ME ACCEPT TO BLAST NE [ME]. BULLSHIT. THESE
FOOLS SHALL MEET KILLER. PLEAS ASK LUNBLAD.

Here Zodiac mentions Detective Sergeant Les Lundblad, the man who had
hunted him in Vallejo The mention of drugs confirms police theories that
Zodiac wrote the letters while he was high.

SOEL [SOUL] AT H LSD UL CLEAR LAKE. SO STARE I EAT A PILL,

ASSHOLE. I PLANT MR. A. H. PHONE LAKE B.
("Lake B." is probably a reference to Lake Berryessa, which is near Clear
Lake. "Mr. A. H." might refer to Chronicle columnist Art Hoppe.)

ALL SSLAVES BECAUSE LSD WILL STOLEN EITHER SLAVE

SHALL I HELL SLASH TOSCHI? THE PIG STALLS DEALS OC [OF]
EIGHTH SOEL [SOUL] SLAIN.

The cipher did stir things up. After my appearance on the evening news,
and with the second mention of Toschi in a Zodiac letter, the San Francisco
Police Department applied for a federal law enforcement assistance grant of
$92,000 to go on with the case. By August 29, the sum desired had been
reduced to $70,000.

Why was Zodiac killing when he did?

There had been instances when a serial killer had murdered only on
holidays (the Fourth of July murders in Michigan, 1967-69). Is this what
Zodiac was doing?

Chen Jo Bates was killed close to midnight on October 30, 1966. Did the
killer stand talking to her for hours waiting for midnight, and the beginning
of Halloween—the age-old celebrations of the dead?

Zodiac attacked at Blue Rock Springs five minutes after midnight on the
Fourth of July. Kathleen Johns was taken on her terror ride in 1970 on Palm
Sunday.

Paul Stine was killed while San Francisco was already celebrating
Columbus Day.

September 27, 1969, the killing of Cecelia Shepard, was the first day of the
Jewish holiday Tabernacles.

But the December 20 slaying of David Faraday and Betty Lou Jensen fell
short of Christmas. This bothered me.

Zodiac's first letter was mailed November 29, 1966, only two days before
Thanksgiving. His letters of April 1970 were postmarked the first and last
days of Passover.

It was an unacceptable, tenuous theory, but there was a consistency, a

rhythm about the Zodiac attacks and communications that transcended
holiday celebrations.

Zodiac and astrology. What if the stars did control his actions? Could the
unknown maniac who had been terrorizing California be following the
phases of the moon?

I checked October 1969 first to see if any of the phases of the moon
coincided with an attack or letter. The first day of the new moon fell on
October 11, the day Paul Stine was murdered. I went on to the phases of the
moon for November 1969. The first day

of the new moon fell on November 9, the day the 340-symbol cipher was
mailed to the Chronicle.

The September 27, 1969, murder occurred the night of an eclipte of the
moon and only two days after the beginning of the full moon.

The July 5, 1969, killing followed by five days the June 29 full moon. On
the day of the killing, the earth reached aphelion, when the sun, earth, and
moon are in a direct line and exert their strongest gravitational pull. Near
summer Solstice, this is one of the most important astrological events of the
year.

December 20, 1968, the murder of Jensen and Faraday, was a new moon
plus one day and only minutes before Winter Solstice. Cheri Jo Bates was
slain on a full moon plus one day, a moon known as the Harvest Moon.
Kathleen Johns was abducted one day past the Vernal Equinox during a full
moon.

Zodiac's three letters containing the cipher puzzle broken by the Hardens
were mailed on July 28, 1969, the first night of the full moon.

In all of the killings, Saturn was visible as an evening star. In the Shepard
slaying, the moon passed above Saturn, which rose early and was in the sky
most of the night in Aries. Saturn was in Aries in the July 5 murder, as well
as the October 11 murder. Even in the 1966 Bates murder on Halloween
(which begins the age-old celebrations of the dead), Saturn was the evening
star.

Faraday and Jensen were killed at the time of the ancient Roman festival of
Saturnalia (December 17-23), when children were sacrificed to the gods.
The name of Saturday is derived from 4 *Saturn's day." Each of the victims
was slain on Saturday (except for Faraday and Jensen, who were shot
minutes before Saturday). When Saturn was in ascendancy, perhaps Zodiac
felt he was caught in the power of the ancient god.

Zodiac was writing his letters and killing at the times of consecutive lunar
phases. Nowhere was this more apparent than in the choice of times he
wrote to the Chronicle in 1970: the April 28, June 26, and July 25 letters
were mailed on the first day of the last quarter phase of the moon.

In 1974, when six occulations of Saturn occurred and Saturn

was the evening star, Zodiac broke a long silence. He wrote when Saturn
was in retrograde motion and less than one-degree south of the moon
(January 29), two days into the full moon (May 8), and once again when the
earth was in aphelion (July 8) four days into the full moon.

In 1978, one day after the full moon, between the time the sun entered Aries
and Saturn became stationary, Zodiac wrote he was "in control of all things"
(April 24).

Many believed that in all liklihood Zodiac was an Aries who is active in his
clandestine pursuits around the full moon or new moon when Saturn is in
ascendancy.

However, Alex Hoyer, the astrologer, revealed in the Chronicle "the

chances are the killer was born under the sign of Taurus, whose people are
generally loving, kind, and gentle. . . . Such a person, . . . while very loving
by nature, has periods of violence and rashness when thwarted and can go
berserk."
As an artist I have knowledge of visual symbols. This led me to realize
what the strange symbol on the Halloween card death threat really meant. It
was formed of the Hebrew symbol and the Greek symbol for Taurus.

And now I realized what had bothered me about the three circled figure
eights in the "my name is" cipher of April 20,1970. The tops of the eights
were not closed. They were actually three circled Taurus symbols.

AN ENLARGED ZODIAC NUMHA1 t

CWOED 8 IS ACTU,

TAURUS SIGN
Zodiac had cleverly hidden five Taurus symbols in his letters. Was this his
birth sign, or did he only think he was a Taurus?

Whether Zodiac was a follower of astrology or only sensitive to the waxing

and waning of the moon, perhaps his future actions could be predicted. He
had, after all, broken a three-year silence in a month when a major
coincidence of cosmic cycles occurred in January 1974. This biological tide
could have triggered an emotional explosion.

Was Zodiac unconsciously being dominated by the moon? Or did he plot

his crimes by some sort of astrological horoscope? If he was working from
a horoscope, did he draw it up himself or have it done for him? Perhaps
there was an astrologer somewhere in the Bay Area who had drawn up a
Taurus chart for the killer and might remember him. If Zodiac did cast a
horoscope for himself, then his name was more than window dressing and
he did have a real interest in astrology.

In various books on ancient languages and sciences, I had found a few of

the symbols the killer used in his ciphers, but not enough to convince me
Zodiac had used a particular text to form his signs. Finally in one book I
found all of them.

This book was As Above, So Below by Alan Oken, who had created several
of the symbols specifically for his horoscope book. All of the symbols
Zodiac used in his 340-character cipher were the same ones used in casting
a horoscope. (See

last illustration in second photo section.)

And finally the answer to the meaning of the Zodiac's own symbol, the
crossed-circle. He had killed the day before Winter Solstice, at aphelion and
the nearest full moon to Autumnal Equinox, and attacked the day after
Spring Equinox. Winter Solstice, Summer Solstice, Autumnal Equinox, and
Vernal Equinox create a cross upon a circle. It was at these four points on
the circle that Zodiac murdered (see facing page).

Zodiac had used two of the five major symbols of astrology, the Circle
(spirit) overlapped by the Cross (matter), to signify not only himself but the
days on which he was to kill.

"Your information on the Oken book is startling," Toschi wrote to me. "To
think that Zodiac probably used the same text that you have read is
fascinating. Your thoughts that Zodiac is a 'follower' fits into what I have
been thinking for many years. ... I believe that you are truly on the right
track, especially with the cross and circle, which when shown visually by
you pretty much explains that you are onto something big."

The common elements in the Zodiac murders had not been added to in a
decade, but now that I knew what timetable the killer used, perhaps I could
find links to other unsolved killings in Northern California.

"So I shall change the way the collecting of slaves," wrote Zodiac in 1969.
"I shall no longer announce to anyone when I comitt my murders, they shall
look like routine robberies, killings of anger, & a few fake accidents, etc."
Who were the unknown victims?

As I've noted, all of Zodiac's victims were young students killed in or

around their cars, near bodies of water, and on weekends when the moon
was new or full. Sexual molestation or robbery was not a motive. The killer
used a different weapon each time. In some of the attacks, the killer carried
a large flashlight.

My thoughts kept going to the right side of the car, the passenger side. The
only window down at Lake Herman Road was on the right where Betty Lou
was sitting; Mageau's window at Blue Rock Springs was down, and Stine's
fly window was open on the

THE SCHEMATIC BASIS OfKXiSB AND SIGNS AND THM

KLATIONSHnO THE ZOOtAC SYMBOL

T
\ wtr i.ni^rxocss *Arrgt vw.fA.6M.

passenger side. Zodiac went to some difficulty to pull Stine to the passenger
side of the cab. At Lake Herman Road the killer fired a shot in the rear
window and, moving around the station wagon, fired another bullet into the
left rear wheel housing to successfully force the couple to leap from the
passenger side. Did Zodiac associate the passenger side with hitchhikers?
Were these his other victims?

If Zodiac was positioning bodies in a ritual way, the most common posture
was one of the victim hanging part or all the way out of the right passenger
side of the car, on his back, palms up, with his head pointing away from the
car. Even Mageau, after he fell from Darlene's car, accidentally adopted this
posture. David Faraday and Paul Stine, both victims of bullets near the ear,
were on their backs. David's head pointed to the east and Paul's to the north.

The one thing that had never ceased to puzzle me was how Zodiac knew, on
pitch-black Lake Herman Road, that "the girl was on her right side feet to
the west"; that in the dark Blue Rock Springs lot Darlene "was wearing
paterned slacks"; and that he had shot Mageau in the knee while the boy
was thrashing about with his legs. If Zodiac knew such details, could they
have been observed during a rushed killing after which he had only
moments to get away? He must have followed the victims earlier in the
evening. It was a good possibility, because he attacked his victims almost
immediately after they parked. If he knew the areas so well, was he a
Vallejo resident? Or, someone who had access to the coroner's and police
reports?

The missing Lake Tahoe nurse, Donna Lass, last seen alive just before the
Autumnal Equinox, has never been found and is considered a possible
Zodiac victim. Judith Ann Hikari, also a nurse, was found April 26, 1970,
in a shallow grave in remote Placer County. But this was thirteen days
before the Vernal Equinox. Nancy Bennallack, a court reporter, was found
dead in her apartment October 26, 1970. The next day the Chronicle
received a letter from Zodiac claiming fourteen victims. Police felt that if
Zodiac did, in fact, kill Donna Lass at Lake Tahoe, he might be responsible
for the deaths of the other two women.

Marie Antoinette Anstey was abducted from the Coronado Inn

in VaUejo, where Darlene Ferrin used to go dancing. This was

! seven days before the Vernal Equinox on Friday, March 13,1970.

i One year to the day she disappeared, Zodiac mailed the Chronicle

a letter. One year to the day that her body was discovered, March

21, 1971, Zodiac mailed the Chronicle a postcard.

The next Friday the thirteenth in 1970 came in November. It was on this
night that a car pulled off Ascot Avenue and drove thirty feet into a field on
the northern edge of Sacramento dragging a body through the weeds and
throwing it face up next to a wire fence. The victim's throat was then cut. So
badly beaten was the woman that dental charts were necessary to establish
her identity. She was another nurse, Santa Rosa resident Carol Beth
Hilburn, who had once studied to be an X-ray technician at Sutter General
Hospital in Sacramento. The strawberry blonde had been estranged from
her husband for three months and was staying with her sister in Santa Rosa.
A mysterious girl known only as "Dee" accompanied Carol to Sacramento
on Thursday, November 12, to see some friends who were members of local
motorcycle gangs—"motorcycle types" and "the wrong people," as her
husband called them. Dee dropped Carol off at an after-hours club on West
Capital Avenue frequented by motorcycle gangs. Carol was wearing a hip-
length black jacket with "Santa Rosa" printed on the front in yellow letters.
She had gone to the bar to keep a date with a boyfriend and was still at the
bar at 4:00 a.m. After that, she was not seen again. When her body was
found the next day, she was wearing only one of her suede boots and on the
other foot a single "ped." Her panties had been pulled down around one
knee. Was her killer keeping her clothes and purse?

The name of the after-hours club was the Zodiac.

The third Friday the thirteenth victim (July 1973) was Nancy Patricia
Cidley, who was abducted from her motel in San Francisco and dumped in
the parking lot of Washington High School. AD of her clothes had been
taken. Stine the cabdriver had been killed on Washington Street.

Cosette Ellison was killed seventeen days before the Vernal Equinox, and
Patricia King fifteen days before. Eva Blau was

killed on the Vernal Equinox. AD died in 1970; aD were found tossed in

ravines. In 1969, Leona Roberts had been killed ten days before the Winter
Solstice. Police believed that one man killed all of these women.

On July 6,1979, a corpse with hands and ankles bound to its neck with
clothesline was found in a shallow grave near Calistoga Road in Santa
Rosa. This discovery rekindled speculation about seven unsolved murders
dating back to 1972.

The seven were:

Maureen L. Sterling, twelve, and Yvonne L. Weber, twelve, who vanished

on their way home from the Redwood Ice Skating Rink in Santa Rosa at
4:00 p.m. Friday, February 4,1972. Their skeletons were discovered down a
sixty-foot embankment off a rural road in the Franz Valley area of east
Sonoma County. They had been murdered elsewhere and dumped where
they were found, on December 28, 1972. The killer had kept their clothes
and had also taken one gold earring from each girl.

Kim Wendy Allen, nineteen, a Santa Rosa Junior College student, vanished
while hitchhiking to her residence in Santa Rosa on March 4, 1972. She had
come from her job at the Larkspur health food store and was seen
hitchhiking north on 101 around 5:00 p.m. It was a Saturday, and sixteen
days before the Vernal Equinox. Her nude body was found in a creekbed
twenty feet from Enterprise Road. She had been strangled with white
clothesline; her wrists and ankles showed marks of having been bound as if
she had been spread-eagled. She had superficial cuts on her chest. One of
her gold earrings had been taken as well as her clothes and possessions.

I obtained a list of what Kim Allen had been seen carrying when she left
work. One was a straw carrying bag, twenty-four inches high, with straw
handles, filled with health food. The second object was a wooden barrel,
two and a half feet tall, empty, with the word "soy" printed on the side in
black ink. The soy sauce barrel also had some Chinese writing printed on it.
The killer kept the barrel.

And now I thought I knew where the killer had gotten the

symbol at the bottom of the Exorcist letter from. I got one of the barrels and
found this particular Zodiac symbol matched some of the Chinese
characters closely.

*.

Zodiac symbol Barrel symbol

Lori Lee Kursa, thirteen, was last seen alive in the U-Save Market in Santa
Rosa on November 21, 1972. Her nude body was found on December
12,1972, with a broken neck. Her first and second cervical vertebrae had
been dislocated. She had two wire loops in her pierced ears, no earrings
attached.

Carolyn Nadine Davis, fifteen, a runaway from Anderson in Shasta County,

was last seen leaving her grandmother's house in Carberville on July 15,
hitchhiking south on 101. Her nude body was discovered 2.2 miles north of
Porter Creek Road on Franz Valley Road in the exact spot as Sterling and
Weber. She was found July 31, 1973. The police discovered that Carolyn
had bought a one-way ticket to fly from Redding to San Francisco. She had
been poisoned by strychnine.
Therese Diane Walsh, twenty-three, disappeared exactly on the Winter
Solstice 1973, hitchhiking on 101 from Malibu Beach to her home in
Carberville. Her body was discovered near the spot where Kim Wendy
Allen's was found. She had been hog-tied with a one-quarter-inch nylon
rope, strangled, and thrown into a creek. She had been sexually assaulted.

Jeannette Kamahele, twenty, was the victim found on July 6, 1979. A Santa
Rosa Junior College student, she was last seen hitchhiking near the Cotati
on-ramp of Highway 101 and was traveling north to Santa Rosa on April
25, 1972. Her body was discovered in a Sonoma County ravine in a shallow
grave near

Calistoga Road. The coed had been tied with her hands and ankles bound to
her neck; white clothesline was wrapped around her neck four times. She
was found 100 yards from the spot where Lori Lee Kursa's body was
discovered.

There were other possible Zodiac victims that my research uncovered. Betty
Cloer, twenty-one, was killed two days before the Summer Solstice in 1971.
In the year 1972, Linda Ohlig, nineteen, was murdered six days after the
Vernal Equinox and Alexandra Clery, twenty-four, was killed eighteen days
before the Autumnal Equinox. Susan McLaughlin, nineteen, was murdered
eighteen days before the Vernal Equinox and Yvonne Quilan-tang, fifteen,
eleven days before the Summer Solstice in 1973. Nineteen days prior to the
Winter Solstice, both Cathy Fechtel, twenty-seven, and Michael Shane,
thirty, were killed and dumped off a Livermore highway. Six days after
Autumnal Equinox in 1974, Donna Marie Braun, fourteen, was murdered.
On Thursday, October 16, 1975, Susan Dye was strangled while she was
hitchhiking home; she was discovered under a freeway overpass near Santa
Rosa.

Almost all were hitchhikers, some with minor involvement in drugs. Any
hitchhiker would occupy the passenger seat, Zodiac's usual focus of attack.
The killer had a knowledge of knot tying consistent with a seaman. The
victims were found near areas of water, as most Zodiac victims had been:
Walsh in a creek, Roberts at Bolinas Lagoon, Anstey was drowned, Dudley
on the bank of Lake Merced, and Braun floating in the Salinas River.
Few had been sexually molested; none of the clothing of the nude victims
has ever been found. The killer struck over weekends at dusk or night and
bound his victims in Santa Rosa with white clothesline of the type used on
the victims at Lake Berryessa. Three of the girls had it wrapped around
their necks.

All of the victims were killed away from where they were found. When the
murderer dumped the bodies, he parked his car in the road and not on the
shoulder, so that he would not leave tracks. The victims had been lifted and
tossed over drainage ditches and

; and down hillsides, indicating he was an extremely strong man. The killer
knew the area.

The students were tortured, stabbed, poisoned, strangled, drowned,

smothered, or broken. Since the bodies were being dumped in the same
spots, layered, with months separating each dumping, the police were
convinced that the same person was committing all or most of these
killings. The truly horrifying part to me was that it seemed that someone
was experimenting in different ways of killing people.

CI&I, as of July 1974, had 103 murder cases that had the above
characteristics, including cases in Washington and Oregon. They were
certain at the least fourteen of them involved the same man.*

From the office of the attorney general a secret report was issued stating
that "over the past five yean (1969-74), there have been fourteen young
women murdered in Northern California, and all of these murders appear to
have been committed by the same person. Eight other women have
mysteriously disappeared in the states of Oregon and Washington over the
past year." The report, developed by the California Department of Justice
with the aid of many local law enforcement agencies, stated that they
thought the killer was "familiar with witchcraft or the occult, because of a
witchcraft symbol found during the Caroline Davis case and the possible
occult involvement in the missing female cases in the states of Oregon and
Washington." The report concluded: 'The murders will probably continue
until such time as the perpetrator is identified and apprehended."
Were these the missing Zodiac victims?

Santa Rosa came up over and over. They were either students at Santa Rosa
Junior College or Santa Rosa residents killed elsewhere. Was there a Zodiac
suspect who had links to Santa Rosa?

When I asked Toschi if there was a major Zodiac suspect who had ties to
Santa Rosa, he said, "Yes, there was. But that's all I can say until the case is
closed."

'My source is a special report "Unsolved Female H o mi c i de s , An

Analysis of a Series ] of Related Murders in California and Western
America " Marked Confidential and printed February 1975 by the De p ar
tm e nt of Justice, California.

Then there was a suspect I had yet to find. Other investigators were also
evasive. What were they keeping back? Meanwhile, I continued looking for
Don Andrews.

Friday, February 29, 1980

I felt that to the people around him the Zodiac killer might well appear to be
a well-controlled man, calm, reasonable, a loner with few contacts with
others. He was, however, wrapped up in a dream world of movies, fantasy,
and melodrama; this was the part of his personality that carried over into his
dark side.

In a secret evaluation of the murderer of Cheri Jo Bates written in July 1967

for the Riverside District Attorney's office by the Chief Psychologist of
Patton State Hospital, the girl's killer is described as: "so hypersensitive...
that virtually any little misper-ceived act could be blown up out of all
proportion to the facts. He is obsessed and pathologically preoccupied with
intense hatred against female figures—all the more so if he sees the young
woman as attractive. Because of his own unconscious feelings of
inadequacy, he is not likely to act out his feelings sexually, but in fantasy, as
a rule. The fantasy can take on aggressive aspects, as in the case of the
Bates girl's murder."
At the end of the report is this warning: "I would like to emphasize that
there is a real possibility that he can become homicidal again."

Friday, February 29, 1980

I was sitting across from one of the nation's leading experts on mass
murder, Dr. Donald T. Lunde, clinical professor of psychiatry and lecturer
in law at Stanford University. The young-looking, light-haired doctor was
currently examining Kenneth Bianchi in connection with the Hillside
Strangler trial. I had seen him several times on TV. We met in Lunde's
fashionable, book-lined office on the second floor of the Stanford Law
School.

"Dr. Lunde, you say there are two distinct types of mass killers, sexual
sadists, and the more common, the paranoid schizophrenic* Having seen
copies of all the Zodiac letters, are you inclined to believe that Zodiac is a
sexual sadist?" I asked.

"Most likely if I had to make a choice it would be that," said Lunde.

"Unlike the paranoid schizophrenic, the sadistic soci-opathic killer does not
suffer from hallucinations but selects his victims for the purpose of venting
certain deeply rooted sexual and sadistic urges, such as the need to mutilate
parts of the victim's body to achieve sexual satisfaction.

"I had the impression that there are more of these people around than ten,
twenty years ago. When I saw [Edmund Emit] Kemper," [who killed eight
women in Santa Cruz, killing his mother last] "I went back through the
literature and found very few cases, one every decade. So I thought it was
just a rare event and I probably would never see another person like that
again.

"In the last year I alone have seen several and it's amazing the
characteristics that they have in common. It seems there were very few
sexual sadists reported in the twentieth century. But the seventies! Just full
of them.

"Now that I've been able to personally study several of these people, there
are an awful lot of similarities. Bianchi'st responses on psychological tests
are almost verbatim like Kemper's. The whole sort of thing of seeing
animals torn apart and blood and animal hearts."

A psychological profile of a sexual sadist—and most likely of Zodiac—

would read like this:

He is always male, usually under thirty-five, clever, stealthy, strong, and

intelligent. He has a passive, cruel, or estranged father and a seductive,
dominant mother who gives affection and rejection erratically. The sexual
sadist seeks revenge toward his

* A paranoid schizophrenic is controlled by external forces such as voices

telling him what to do and often kills women because of confused sexual
identity. He suffers from diso r d er ed thinking, hallucinations, persecution,
and delusions of grandiosity. Contributing factors are environment and
heredity or the taking of drugs such as LSD or PCP If the paranoid
schizophrenic reaches his mid-thirties the rage may burn itself out or go
into

tKenneth A. Bianchi, confessed to five killings in the LA. Hillside Strangler

killings

mother, fantasizes her death, but is perversely in love with her. Sex with
other women is impossible. In most cases, he has few social or sexual
affiliations and has never had an experience of normal sexual intercourse.
Murder is the only successful relationship he can have with a woman. All of
his victims are only substitutes for his true target, his mother, who is often
the last victim.

He has a past history of animal torture in his early teens. Richard Trenton
Chase [the Sacramento Vampire Killer], for example, drank human blood
and kept animal kidneys and liven in his freezer. He strangles and poisons
his pets as substitutes for human victims.

For reasons unknown, sexual and aggressive impulses intertwine early in

childhood in these sadistic types and eventually find expression in vicious
sexual assaults and sadistic murders.
He kills to achieve sexual pleasure. Murder produces a powerful sexual
arousal and pleasure and is a replacement for sex. He may masturbate while
reliving the crimes.

The sexual sadist often taunts the police in letters, uses deliberate
misspellings, and under stress may use handwriting that is unrecognizable
from his true writing. The pleasure of baiting the police may actually
become the motive for the slayings, and though he takes great pains to
appear normal and avoid capture, he often throws suspicion upon himself.

The sexual sadist has a strong self-mutilation drive. As a child he may play
at his own execution and eventually become suicidal.

He will be fascinated with the tools of policework and with policemen, and
may pretend to be one. He collects weapons and instruments of torture and
has great skill in their use.

The sadist seeks the dehumanization of his victims into objects that cannot
reject him and that he has power over. He is incurable, feels no remorse for
the cruelty he inflicts on others, and will most likely repeat his crimes.

He chooses victims with specific characteristics, such as students or

hitchhikers. The sexual sadist can describe his assaults in great detail. If
caught for one murder, he takes delight in confessing to all the others in an
effort to dismay the police.

The sexual sadist may be clever enough not to have a history of identifiable
mental illness

"Why are there so many around now'" I asked.

"A possible explanation is that these people were perceived by parents as

weird berause they did things like cutting up animals and putting the parts
in the refrigerator or whatever," said Lunde, "and under the old laws, that
was enough to get someone committed, but now it isn't

"I suspect there were a bunch of people put away for life who were
potential Zodiac-type killers. But now that you can't keep people longer
than ninety days* people like that are getting out. Until 1969, for instance,
people could be committed for life to a mental hospital on pretty flimsy
grounds. There was this drastic change where it became very difficult to
commit someone. You had to have concrete evidence of either suicidal acts
or an act of violence toward others."

"How often," I asked, "have you personally seen a sexual sadist? How
many have you talked with

"A dozen," Lunde replied, "which is a lot more than one. But it doesn't, on
the other hand, compare to the thousands of paranoid schizophrenics.
There's something spooky about the incredible similarities among sexual
sadists."

"Is it inconsistent," I asked, "for a sexual sadist to be a child molester as we

j. The thing about all these people and the one thing the> have in common
is an abnormal relationship with women. They are limited or incapable of
forming normal adult sexual relationships And so what are the alternatives''
One is sex with dead bodies or killing for sexual satisfaction. Another is sex
with dren.

'There are the common threads of inadequate normal adult sexual

relationships and also the need to have power over the sexual object, which
you can achieve either through violence,

The Lantexman-Petns-Short Act was pasted m 196? and de lq tmned that a

person can be detained only if he ts a danger to himself or othen The
reduction of 50,000 psychiatric beds in Cdttawi m 1960 to 5,000 today
depos i ted patients in local communities al

prepared to handle therr.

strangulation, tying up, or whatever—or with children. The common thing

is the power relationship and the need to be all powerful vis-i-vis the sexual
object."
I remember what Kemper, the archetypal sexual sadist, said of his murders
at his trial: "It was kind of a triumphant-type thing, like taking the head of a
deer or an elk or something would be to a hunter. I was the hunter and they
were my victims."

Sunday, March 2, 1980

Because of Zodiac's gigantic ego, I had always felt that somewhere along
the line he would have to write Toschi using his real name. I asked the
inspector if he had ever received a letter from any of the Zodiac suspects.

"Well, there is only one," he said, "a Vallejo student named Stan." (Not his
real name.) "As I recall the phrasing was:

" if I can ever be of any help to you just let me know. I'm sorry I wasn't your
man/

"After the April 1978 Zodiac letter surfaced, a guy named Jim Silver with
the California Department of Justice told me, 'You know, Starr is out of
prison and he's been out for about six months. And you got this new letter
and it's been authenticated.'

"I told him, Teah I know. 1 got a letter from Starr about six months ago. He
wrote me to let me know he was out and I thought at the time it was
unusual."

" 'Jesus Christ,' said Silver, 'he's weird. He's a weird son of a bitch. He's
such a good suspect we've got to watch him all the time.'"

I asked Toschi how the letter was addressed.

"Well, it was addressed only to me, not to Armstrong. It was addressed to

me by my full name, Inspector David Toschi."

"I bet he typed it."

"That's right, Robert. It was typed," said Toschi.

Monday, March 3, 1980

I had the day off from work to speak with Lieutenant Husted of the Vallejo
P.D. I had a hunch that Starr was the Santa Rosa link, and I was going to see
if Husted could verify it.

Husted came in late, dressed in rough western clothes with an outside

holster. As usual, he was tanned and fit Husted, in an off-hours job, ran the
Stress Management Hypnosis Institute on Marin Street He was an expert in
hypnosis. He worked for the state in some trials. After putting witnesses in
a trance in a soundproof room, he would record their testimony on his built-
in closed-circuit TV system. It was Husted's idea that we fly in Kathleen
Johns, the woman who had escaped from Zodiac with her daughter, and
have her put under deep hypnosis to enable her to describe the man she
believed to be Zodiac. But the police had been unable to find her.

Husted was glad I had brought him information about Don Andrews,
Nariow's favorite suspect. "Otherwise, Robert, we could not morally search
for the Napa suspect, without step pin g on Narlow's toes. I'm glad you
came up with the information on your own. I'm interested in his
whereabouts. Do you know where Andrews is now?"

"He's somewhere in San Francisco now," I said, "but to be honest, I've

begun to have my doubts about him. The witnesses at the Stine killing say
that he's too old and too fat."

Then I asked Husted about Stan, the suspect who had written Toschi.

'This Starr really has my interest," I told him. "I get strong feelings from the
letter he wrote Toschi."

"I know what you mean," said Husted. "He's always been my favorite."

The rest of the day we talked about Stan, who was no longer a student but
had moved in 1971 to Santa Rosa, where he was a salesman. His mother
bought a house there in August 1975.

And that night, I began to put together a report on the best Zodiac suspect I
had found yet.
Robert "Bob" Hall Starr

At the time of the known Zodiac killings (1968-70), Robert "Bob" Hall
Starr (this name has been changed) was a "professional student" and lived
with his mother in her house in Vallejo. He was highly intelligent, with an
IQ of around 135. In 1971, he kept a trailer in Santa Rosa. In 1969 he had
looked like the Zodiac composite description. He always kept to himself,
collected rifles (he owned two .22s), and hunted game. To his sister-in-law
and brother he spoke of "man as true game." Starr often spoke of man as the
"most dangerous game."

In November 1969 Sheila*, his twenty-six-year-old sister-in-law, noticed a

paper in Starr's hand and asked him what it was. He had been keeping it in a
metal box in his brother's room in the North Bay. Hiding the lines of strange
symbols, Starr said, "This is the work of an insane person. I'll show it to you
later." He never did. The family became increasingly concerned. When he
was asked by his sister-in-law about a bloody knife on the front seat of his
car the day of the Berryessa attack he said, "That's chicken blood. I use it to
kill chickens."

Sergeant Mulanax already suspected Starr of another terrible

•Not her real name.

crime, that of molesting a child at a school where he had once worked. This
would fit in with Zodiac's knowledge of school bus routes and vacation
times for the "kiddies"

Men of Starr's type, although they have a great underlying hatred of

women, are capable of great personal charm. Starr tended to have a taunting
way of speaking and often suffered from painful headaches.

Husted had a theory about the car Zodiac used in the Blue Rock Springs
murder. Starr had been fired from a job at a gas station the week before
Darlene's death. A friend of Starr's parked his Ford sedan there overnight to
be repaired, and Starr could have used the car to commit the murder,
returned it, and made the call to VPD. Starr and the owner of the '58 Ford
often talked of death and murder. In August, Starr's friend also died from
natural causes.

It was early in 1971 that Starr's family, his mother, brother and sister-in-law,
began to suspect, on the basis of his erratic behavior, that he just might be
the Zodiac killer. After consultation with Starr's uncle and much agonizing,
the family dialed Toschi and told them of their fears. Armed with
information turned over to them by Starr's relatives, Armstrong and Toschi
began laying the groundwork for a search warrant.

Fred Wisman of the D.A.'s office in San Francisco called the Sonoma
County D.A.'s office, who in turn put Toschi and Armstrong in charge,
along with two Sonoma detectives.

"Jesus," thought Toschi, "Starr lives part of the time with his mom in
Vallejo, camps out with his brother and sister-in-law in San Rafael, and has
his own trailer near the campus. Which do we search?" The investigators
decided on the trailer, since Starr had been there on Tuesday.

Starr had a job at a chemical company in Petaluma and a locker there.

Toschi hoped that any evidence they wanted wasn't being hidden there.

Friday, June 4, 1971

San Francisco P.D. was very excited over the suspect. Even Tos-chi's
secretary, Kate, looked up from typing the warrant request and information
to say, "Good luck! I think you have him."

"Kate," said Toschi, "we're going to give it a try."

The request was taken to a Sonoma superior court judge. He read the
affirmation and signed it. "I believe you have enough information to
execute the search warrant," he said. "Gentlemen, I wish you luck."

The warrant specified "pieces of bloody shirt, rope, pens, glasses, trousers
with pleats, blue or dark parka navy-type jacket, a knife in a sheath and a
black hood." Even the dark clip-on glasses seen by Bryan Hartnell were
mentioned.

Starr's family had told the two San Francisco detectives where his trailer
and car were. The suspect's family had never visited him there but they did
know the trailer was off wheels. Toschi had the manager of the trailer court
show them specifically which stall the student used. The lot manager said
that he had driven off just before they'd arrived at the trailer lot. The
detectives found the door to the trailer standing open and decided to make a
cursory search while they waited for Starr to return. Bob Dagitz, the print
expert who had covered the Stine killing, was with Armstrong and Toschi,
along with the two deputy sheriffs.

The men moved into the yellow trailer. Papers and debris were everywhere.
There was a sour smell that filled the room. Toschi moved Starr's bed away
from the wall and found the largest jar of Vaseline he had ever seen and
several large, uncleaned dildos that rolled out onto the floor at his feet.
They carefully replaced rubber dildos and moved the bed back. Then they
went into the small, unkept kitchen.

"My God," said Toschi. "Bill, get a load of this!" The detective had opened
the freezer and seen little animal hearts, livers, and mutilated rodent bodies.
"It's not everybody who keeps dead squirrels in their freezers," thought
Dagitz.*

*I later teamed that Starr was working toward a degree in Biology, and had
received permission from the state government to collect and experiment on
small animals.

They waited forty-five minutes for Starr to come back. When they heard
Starr's auto drive up, they rushed to the toor of the trailer. The car was dirty;
there were clothes in :he back seat, and papers, books, and exams that went
back /ears.

The student got out and lumbered up to the door.

"What's this all about?" he said coolly, without a trace of Mnic. He already
knew who these detectives were from a visit :hey had paid him at one of his
jobs last May. After a two-lour interrogation, they'd brought him back.
Later Starr was ired from this job; he felt it was caused by the detectives'
inquiries.

"We want to talk to you. We have a search warrant for your /ehicle, for your
trailer, and for your person. We have information that you are a very good
suspect in the Zodiac murders," said \rmstrong.

"I thought that guy was arrested," said Starr. "1 live in Val-hcio."

"We know."

"Well, help yourself," said the stocky man.

Toschi looked over as the student pointed at the trailer. Stands wearing a
Zodiac watch (a Clebar skindiver, underwater Chronograph made by the
Zodiac watch company). He was also wearing a "Z" ring. When Toschi
gestured toward it, Starr told lim that his sister had sent it to him in 1967.

The detectives began a more complete search, rolling back furniture and
moving the bed. Toschi pulled back the sheets and then once again pushed
the bed all the way from the wall. The iildos rolled out at his feet.

"Are these yours? asked Toschi.

"I just sort of fool around," said the stocky student.

He did not seem embarrassed at all to the detectives. But as they continued
the hour-long search, which "tore apart his place Dretty good," Starr began
to become uneasy and anxious. The two detectives were aware of how
physically powerful Starr was in the close quarters.

"We have to take your prints," Toschi told the student. "We nave to take
your tips. These things have to be done."

Starr was obviously annoyed and fought against having his prints taken.

Hie print man, Dagitz, finally got good examples, and started making
comparisons quietly by the lamp in a corner of the trailer. Dagitz had been
pretty excited about Stan, especially when he heard the suspect was familiar
with the area, was ambidextrous, and was good with weapons.

Meanwhile, Toschi and Armstrong were getting samples of Stan's

handprinting. Toschi had two sheets of paper with typed sentences supplied
by CI&I's Morrill. He told the suspect he had to reprint the sentences on the
page. "We want you to print right-and left-handed and in uppercase and
lowercase," said Toschi. "We want you to print this list of sentences."

Toschi handed him a black felt-tipped pen. He showed him the phrase, "up
until now I have killed five" and said, "We want you to just print the way
you normally print."

"I don't do it left-handed," said Starr.

"I understand you have some ability with your left hand."

"Who told you that?"

"We've done a very good background," said Toschi. "We know what you
can do and what you can't." Starr was naturally left-handed, was forced to
be right-handed in elementary school, and eventually reverted to left. His
family and friends all said he could write and shoot with either hand.
Morrill felt that the Zodiac letters were written right-handed.

The stocky man wrote with his left hand and appeared to have some
difficulty. "I can't," he said.

"Do the best you can. Print capital letters, small letters. Print what we tell
you," said Toschi.

The student didn't like that, but Toschi had decided that they were going to
"do everything they could with Starr but stand him on his head."

The detectives had him gp from A to Z and from 1 to 100. It was obvious to
Toschi that the student was altering his printing, but it had the spacy quality
that was found in the Zodiac let-ten.

"Why can't I print what I want?" said Starr.

"Because this is what we want you to print," said Toschi, impatience
beginning to show in his voice. The detectives had him print "yours truely":
and then asked Starr to print "This is the Zodiac speaking."

"What are you making me say? That I'm Zodiac?"

"No, but we have to compare. If you're not the man, we'll leave you alone.
We'll just walk away from you, rule you out completely. But we have to be
sure," said Toschi.

The student still balked, but he wrote out the phrase.

Toschi produced a second page of quotes. They had Starr write "In answer
to your asking for more details about the good times I had in Vallejo, I shall
be very happy to supply even more material." Starr copied it faithfully but
repeated the word "more." Then Starr was made to write "All people who
are shaking hands shake hands like that." Toschi noted that the last lines
tilted toward the bottom right side of the page, as was common in the
Zodiac letters.

At last, the detectives made their way out of the stifling trailer into the cool
evening air. They adjourned to a coffee shop some six blocks away to have
a snack and discuss the search.

Dagitz was depressed. "If the prints on Paul Stine's cab," he said, "were
those of Zodiac, then they don't match Starr's. It's ia positive no."

Back in San Francisco, Armstrong and Toschi sent the Starr printing
samples off to Morrill in Sacramento and went home to wait for an answer.
Within a day, Morrill got back to them on the phone.

"Sorry, Dave, there's just no match."

At this time, no one had any idea that Zodiac was using some sort of tracing
technique in his letters. Toschi was also unaware that, as I learned from
later research, stress produces dramatic changes in the handwriting of a
sexual sadist. I also obtained .samples of Starr's real handwriting on job
applications; it was tiny and very different from the samples he made for
Armstrong and Toschi.

"Everything sounded just perfect," Toschi told me later,

"but we couldn't find a way to prove that he was the Zodi killer."

My feelings were that a mistake was made in not searchir Starr's mother's
Vallejo residence, where Starr often staye but it was in another county.
Zodiac had used the county technique right from the beginning. He killed in
are that bordered on unincorporated sections of cities or that were areas of
disputed jurisdiction between police and sheriff's departments. If Starr was
Zodiac, then after the Sant Rosa search he had only to go back to Vallejo
and destr any physical evidence that might exist in his mother's ment.

I learned through the Department of Motor Vehicles that Starr owned two
trailers in 1979. What if in 1971 Starr had had other unregistered trailers?
He might have had a trailer in every county where the killings took place
and the detectives had had the misfortune to search the wrong one.

Starr's father died just before the Riverside murder (1966). He passed on to
his son a love of sailing. The Zodiac killing costume consisted of old-
fashioned Navy clothes, pants with pleats. Was Starr, out of hatred or even
love of his father, dressing up in his father's clothes to do the killing? Had
these clothes hung in his father's cedar closet in Vallejo until 1975, when
the house was sold?

Zodiac spoke of his "death machine" in his basement. Starr's room in his
mother's house in Vallejo was a basement. It was a basement that swarmed
with the little animals Stan liked to experiment with.

Stan had studied chemistry; the Zodiac bus bomb was a chemical bomb.

Starr spent some three years at an institution for the criminally insane as the
result of a child molesting charge in 1975. When he was released, he
returned to living under his mother's house, this time in Santa Rosa. She
spoiled him, buying him a plane and two boats.
But the really interesting thing about Starr was this timetable:

1971, March 22: Zodiac postcard to Chronicle.

1971, June 4: Starr's trailer searched.

From June 1971 until January 28, 1974: Zodiac letters unex-plainedly
ceased. The murders directly connected with Santa Rosa began at this time,
February 1972. f

1974, January 29: First Zodiac letter in three years.

1974, May 8: Letter to Chronicle from Zodiac.

1974, July 8: Letter to Chronicle from Zodiac.

1975, December: Starr committed to institution for child molesting. The

linked murders of young hitchhikers around Santa Rosa cease.

1977, December 30: Starr is released. He immediately writes Tos-chi a

typewritten note.

1978, April 24: Zodiac writes again for the first time in four years.

1979, February 24: The first linked murder occurs since October 16, 1975,
when Susan Dye was strangled in Santa Rosa, Teresa Matthews was
strangled on a Saturday and left by a body of water (Russian River).

If Starr were Zodiac, then the search of his Santa Rosa trailer had caused
him to stop writing until the heat was off. When Stan-was released from
prison, Zodiac wrote again.

I had asked Starr's parole officer if he had received a letter from him and he
told me that he had. It was typed and had double the needed postage on it.
The address slanted downward, stamps inverted.

I told Toschi, "Not only that, Inspector, until recently the parole officer had
no idea that his guy was a Zodiac suspect. In fact, the day he found out, the
P.O. was home looking at copies of the Zodiac letters. All evening he kept
getting these calls where someone would just breathe. The P.O. told his
girlfriend, 'I think that he knows that I know and that he knows that I know
that he knows/

'The P.O. did this impersonation of Stan for me where he tried to probe the
suspect to see what sets him off. It was at their monthly meeting.

" Tou say you don't like to come to these meetings, Bob. But

if you don't then you're going to have to go back to jail/ said the P.O.

"At this Starr gripped the sides of his chair, lowered his head, looked up at
the P.O., and said, 'I wouldn't like that at all/

"He kept saying this over and over again. He became very menacing. It was
a total change in personality."

"That sounds exactly like Starr/' said Toschi. "He cooperated with us, but
only under much duress."

"I found out something I bet you didn't know, Dave. Starr has an enlarger.
Isn't that interesting. Now you have two people with enlargers, Andrews
and Starr.

"They talked Starr into seeing a psychiatrist, and Vallejo P.D. discovered
that he had been boning up at the library on what the proper responses to
psychiatric tests should be," I said. "Starr would take a test in this manner:
he would study the board for a minute and then react swiftly, finishing the
test immediately. These would be physical tests involving shapes and pegs.
Dave, I saw a report from the psychiatrist that read, 'He [Starr] was a study
of economy in motion and laughed when others tried to duplicate the ease
in which he solved problems.' "

It was obvious that Starr took all of his tests the same way. He would not
smile or show emotion, and would speak in a slow monotone.

"The test analyst gave Starr an ink blot test in 1978," I told Toschi, "and
was warned to look for answers that contained the letter Z.
" The odds of more than one answer beginning with Z are very remote/ the
analyst told VPD. 'I don't expect any.'

"Well, the first ink blot that Starr was shown reminded him of 'a zygomatic
arch.' The analyst was shaken by this and at the end of the tests found that
Starr had given five Z answers. As you may remember, Stine was shot in
the zygomatic arch."

When Toschi was demoted to Pawn Shop Detail, Starr expressed his
feelings to his P.O. He felt that Armstrong and Tos-chi's visit to his office in
1971 had cost him his job. "Now Mr. Toschi will know what it feels like!"
Starr said through his teeth.

"Starr works at a store as a salesman but hates working for a

living/' his P.O. told me. "He still lives in the basement, but now it's the
basement of his mother's new home here in Santa Rosa. And he still has live
chipmunks running around the house.

"But I'll tell you one thing/' said the P.O., "he's got his act down great."

Wednesday, March 5, 1980

I turned out the lights on my car and coasted to a stop under an elm about
twenty-five feet from Stan's front window. It was 8:30 p.m.; there was a
chill to the night air. To the left of Starr's house was a driveway and garage.
There was only one V.W. in sight. I wondered where he kept his campers
and boats and other can. I stayed for hours, watching the window
overlooking Starr's porch and front door. I could make out the silhouette of
a large hulking shape, which I took to be some cabinet or appliance. At
11:00 p.m., it moved. I had been watching the shadow of Starr.

Saturday, March 8, 1980

Starr worked in a store. The store was so large that I decided it would be
safe to get a closer look at him.
It was a bright shining morning. I parked blocks away so that he couldn't
see what kind of car I drove or get a glimpse of my license number. I
brought my two little boys and a friend with me. Starr had never seen me; I,
of course, knew exactly what he looked like from photographs.

I found him in the back of the store ringing up sales. I had intended to buy
something from him in order to get a sample of his handprinting, but there
was such a feeling of menace and of animal strength radiating from him that
I left quickly. I had expected a mild, overweight man who would be, like
Son of Sam, the last person you would suspect of being a mass murderer,
but this man was powerful and dangerous looking. His eyes were cast

into darkness beneath a heavy brow; he still wore a close, blond crew cut.
He was heavy all right, but the girth came from solid muscle, especially in
his neck, shoulders, and arms.

I gathered up my boys from the front of the store where they were waiting
and took them for a soft drink at a nearby 7-Eleven store. My youngest got
a prize on the bottom of his Slurpee drink.

It was a ring with one of the signs of the Zodiac on it.

Sunday, March 9, 1980

Once again I spoke with Starr's parole officer in Santa Rosa. He had
knowledge of the man's movements since his release from prison.

"Is he still living with his mother?" I asked.

"Oh, yeah, his mother is still there and she, ah ... it's a strange situation. I
talked with him about his mother. It's one of the major things in his therapy
and the way he relates to life.

"Do you think Starr hates his mother?" I asked.

"Oh, yeah. He absolutely hates her. . . . She would say about the father,
'That miserable son of a bitch, he's gone all the time. He never takes care of
his family and satisfies my needs. He never takes care of his familial
responsibilities. Men are all assholes. They all do the same thing. They're
all miserable sons of bitches/ Then she would tell her son, 'You're just like
all other men. You're this, you're that.'

"Years and years of that completely demolished his ability to have regular
heterosexual relations with an adult female. One of the things he does
frequently is when his mother says, why are you the way you are, he says,
i'm all fucked up. The reason I'm all fucked up is because of you. You made
me the way I am.' And she feels really guilty and all the guilt comes out and
she refuses to do anything to stop whatever behavior he's involved in.

"I told him one day, 'Bob, you're suspected of being the Zodiac killer.'

" 'I know,' he said to me.

" 'What do you think about that?' I asked him.

44 i think that was real wrong to do that to me. I think it was unfair/

44 4 It was?'

44 Teah/

44 'Have you read the reports?'

44 'Yeah, I know what they are talking about. That's all a pack of lies/ Stan
said.

44 That's fine. Who in hell is going to admit to being the Zodiac/

"Robert, the greatest phrase I ever heard in dealing with child molesters and
mentally disordered sex offenders was 'Whatever gets you off gets you off/
And it doesn't make any difference whether you go to Atascadero
[institution for criminally insane] for four years and they bring you back
and they say you're sane and you're cured and you're no longer a MDSO.
What basically happens is, whatever gets you off, gets you off. You may be
able l to repress what gets you off, but that is still what gets you off."

Tuesday, March 11, 1980

I In Vallejo again, I learned even more about Starr.

In 1965, before there were any murders, before there were any letters,
before there was such a creature as the Zodiac, Starr and two friends, Kenn
and Bill, (not their real names), from Torrance went hunting. The following
conversation took place, as reported in a police deposition filed July 1971.

"I would rather hunt people than wild game," Starr told his friends. "I think
of man as true game. Man, after all, is the most dangerous game.

'This is what I would do," said Stan, warming to the subject "I would hunt
them at night with an electric gun sight, a flashlight taped to the barrel of
my gun."

"Christ! But why?" asked Kenn.

"Because," said Stan, turning and locking his unblinking gaze on his fellow
hunter, 44 I want to. And not only that, I would write

taunting letters to the police and the papers. And 1 would call myself the
Zodiac."

My sources told me several more stories about Starr and his life in Vallejo.
In 1973, a doctor's report on him said that he was "potentially violent, he is
dangerous" and "he is capable of killing." The doctor suspected that Starr
had "five separate personalities." When Starr's parole officers first visited
Starr's Santa Rosa home, he had neighborhood children riding bicycles and
waving red flags to direct them up the driveway. "Another example of
Starr's dark sense of humor," said the senior parole officer.

Starr's physical strength could be verified by a boyhood friend, who was

now a retired highway patrolman. When Starr was a teenager, the friend
passed him walking down a San Francisco street and in the rearview mirror
of his car saw five Marines closing in on him. "There's going to be real
trouble now," the friend thought. But before he could back up, bodies were
flying everywhere. Starr was the only one left standing. "I backed up my
car and asked if he was all right and if he needed a lift home," the friend
told me. "He said that he was going for a walk, and no thanks."
At a store where he once worked, he was hassled by the men there. He
dared one to come at him. He picked the man up and hurled him across the
room into a stack of cardboard boxes.

Was he strong enough to lift dead coeds in Santa Rosa and hurl them over
railings far into the bushes?

In the Navy, Starr had had code training, was a wire operator and a sail
maker. In spite of weight and blood pressure problems, Starr still did scuba
diving.

When Starr was arrested as a child molester and when he was released on
bail, he told all of his friends that he was being arrested because "he was the
Zodiac."

During the trial, he took to harassing the deputy who was testifying against
him by standing outside the man's house at night. Finally, one evening the
cop came out and chased him off.

When Starr was convicted, the police came to his home ar

were let in by his mother. They found him in the center of his basement
room howling and shrieking, live chipmunks crawling all over him and
"squirrel shit dripping from his shoulders."

During his time in prison, Starr wrote his friends that he "hoped Zodiac
would kill or write a new letter to the papers. That will clear me."

After his release in 1978, Stan was talked into a series of psychiatric tests
by a Santa Rosa psychologist, Dr. Thomas Rykoff (this name has been
changed by request). My source told me, "The Santa Rosa shrink came to
the conclusion that Starr is 'extremely dangerous and is a sociopath [feels
no guilt]' and that he is 'highly intelligent and incapable of functioning with
women in a normal way/ " The sociopath label was certain by the next to
the last session. When Starr talked of Zodiac he cried. Dr. Rykoff felt that
Starr was "repressing very deep hatred."
The psychologist was midway in his study of Starr when, as part of a
training program for a social rehabilitation group he was organizing in
Santa Rosa, he hypnotized a young woman. As the woman told Rykoff
more and more of her feelings and suspicions about her brother-in-law and
his dark side, the doctor began to realize that the character being sketched
was frighteningly familiar. "What's this?" thought Rykoff. "That sounds just
like Starr. The potential for danger is just the same."

Rykoff said nothing to the woman, whom he had correctly deduced was
Starr's sister-in-law. The doctor wondered if he was being set up. First he
had seen Starr as a favor to Lieutenant Husted and Stan's P.O., and now the
patient's sister-in-law showed up with more suspicions about Starr. The
coincidence was just too much. Rykoff had to know just who this man was
and why were so many people interested in him. The psychologist was
becoming more and more terrified of his patient.

On November 1, 1978, the doctor asked his brother, a San Francisco

policeman, to look into Starr's background and find out what he was really
suspected of. Late the next day, his brother got back in touch with the
psychologist.

"I've found out he was a major suspect in the Zodiac case," said Rykoff.

"Oh, shit/' said the doctor. "Find out anything you can about him, and how I
should deal with him."

The forthcoming answer was anything but reassuring.

"We felt strongly then and now that Starr was our best suspect," Toschi told
the doctor's brother. "We cut him loose because we weren't able to find any
physical evidence. Believe me, we did everything we could with the guy.
Personally, my gut feeling is that he is the man. Tell Dr. Rykoff that when
he talks to him to do it in a place that he can get out of in a hurry. Keep at
an oblique angle to him. Don't get too close. And above all, don't make him
angry."

Rykoff had Starr's sister-in-law Sheila back in and, with Husted, put her
under deep hypnosis on November 15. When she remembered a paper with
strange lines of symbols she had seen in Starr's hand in 1969, Husted
decided to see if she could redraw these figures. In automatic writing, she
slowly drew four lines of symbols. Automatic writing is usually sprawling
but hers was straight and even, gridlike, just like the Zodiac's. The symbols
closely resembled the third line of the Zodiac 340-character cipher. As the
hypnotic session progressed and the woman spoke more and | more about
Starr, she began to tremble and shake; her knuckles turned white. Finally,
Rykoff had to stop the hypnotic session.

Rykoff and the sister-in-law weren't the only ones afraid of Starr. His own
mother possibly feared him. Though she lived in the same house, she kept
traveling constantly around the U.S. and Europe. Was it to get away from
him? Both the P.O. and sister-in-law thought so. Pension money from
Starr's deceased father was probably the capital used to finance the trip.

Starr's Parole Officer was observant enough to notice that Starr wore
pleated, old-fashioned pants. At the time the P.O. first discovered that Starr
was a major Zodiac suspect, he looked out of the window of the apartment
he was sharing in Bodega and saw the student standing two stories below
by the complex's swimming pool. He was smiling, staring straight up at the
P.O., looking like some white, beached whale and holding the hand of a
little nine-year-old girl. There was no reason for Starr to be there; he looked
totally out of place among all the young people. He had

obviously taken the hand of the young girl so that he would fit in with the
crowds of families.

Once, officers on the way to the Santa Rosa area that a killer had used as a
dumping ground for the bodies of Santa Rosa coeds stopped in their tracks
on Sully Road. Walking down the road toward them and from the murder
area was Starr. He traveled the road to go skin-diving, he told the open-
mouthed policemen.

Wednesday, March 12, 1980

This evening, again I watched Starr at work in the store. At one point I
stood closer than two feet away, listening to his soft, quiet voice as he spoke
with customers. His brow was even more massive than I remembered, his
body sturdy and strong. But the paunch around the middle was there, as
Zodiac had been described.

Stan wore a bright red overcoat with the name "Bob" on a patch sewn over
his left breast pocket. He had previously worked in the rear of the store
doing stock work, but now he worked practically all the time near the front
window. On the wall was a sign; the lettering, done with a felt-tip pen,
looked similar to the Zodiac printing. I would have to get a copy of the sign.

Later, I shot a few photos of Stan from across the street, when he had his
head turned partially away from the window. 1 was afraid he would see me.
At 5:15 I left and made some time-exposure shots of Starr's house. Then I
drove back to the store.

I planned to get a photo of Stan in silhouette as he left work and passed

under the bright vapor lights of a drugstore. At 6:30 p.m., I saw him leave
the store and start across the street toward me. I positioned myself in the
shadows and waited for him to pass between me and the lights. But he
didn't.

I realized that he wasn't walking home tonight. He must have brought his
car to work. I raced for my V.W. In a few seconds I was behind the wheel. I
didn't see Stan anywhere. I started the engine, turned on my lights, and was
about to pull out onto the

darkened street when the V.W. coupe parked behind me came to life and
slid onto the road, lights off. The car had been hidden under the shadows of
a large tree; I hadn't realized it was occupied. The driver peered into my car
as he drove slowly alongside. It was Stan.

He turned the corner and started east. I waited a moment, turned out my
headlights, and then followed him. He was heading away from his house.

Three blocks away, he stopped, and I parked about a block away from him
and began walking toward him. When I was close enough to make him out
in the dusk, I could see that he was looking around to see if anyone was
watching.
Suddenly, he walked over and opened the door of another car parked on the
street. He got in and raced off into the blacknes By the time I sprinted back
to my car, he was gone.

My aim had been to see if I could find out where he was keeping his
trailers, or at least to know where he hung out. Why had he switched cars?
Was he actually afraid people were following him? Next time I followed
Starr, I would have to use a different car.

Even if Starr was not the Zodiac, he was up to something very strange.

Friday, March 14, 1980

Lieutenant Husted was buying a pony for his daughter. I watched him from
the wire gate a hundred feet away. It was a stormy day, and the sky was
filled with black clouds; the grass in the field waved in the wind. Husted's
truck leaked a steady drip of rusty water on the edge of the road. On the
other side of the barbed fence, a watchdog barked at me.

Husted believed that Zodiac was responsible for the string of Santa Rosa
coed killings. That afternoon, he had shown me a two-page list of victims.

"There's a lot I haven't told you and can't," he said as he unlocked the truck.
"I was thinking that if you could be brought into the case officially then I
could tell you much more. We

some new stuff . . . something we can get a warrant with.

want to hypnotize some of the witnesses again, and if you were there as a
police artist we could put together some good composite drawings and also
learn some things that might help your book."

"That would be fine with me," I said.

"Starr has a friend I haven't told you about before," said Husted, "and Starr
seems to have confided in him that he is the Zodiac killer and told him
details of some of the murders.* I'd like to put the friend under, and the
sister-in-law as well. And of course Kathleen Johns, if we can ever find her.
Have you had any luck on that?"

"She was living in Riverside until December. I have the address, but she
moved and my letter came back 'unable to forward.' "

I had mentioned searching for Starr's trailers earlier to Husted.

"I think we know where one is now, but I don't think there's anything there,"
said Husted. "I think any evidence is in his basement, not out in the open
where we could see it. The guy's a carpenter . . . good with his hands. I
would go in with sonar equipment and look for a hidden room. I think,
Robert, that's where you'll find the bloody clothes, keys, and maybe even
photos.

"I think Starr has built himself a place to relive his crimes."

Sunday, April 20, 1980

Driving on 101, almost to Santa Rosa, I tried to imagine how the killer of
the coeds had managed to pick them up on the freeway. Most of the Santa
Rosa Junior College students got rides on Mendocino Avenue in front of the
school or at a gas station at the College Avenue onramp. For the killer to
pick up a hitchhiking student, I felt that he had to be in Santa Rosa initially.

The victims were found dumped on Franz Valley Road a distance of seven
to eight miles from Santa Rosa. I wondered how

•Of course, such a "confession" would not mean Stan had committed the
crimes. False i in notorious murder cases.

279

in that scant distance the killer was able to strangle them and in some cases
elaborately tie them up and then dump them on a road so narrow and so
winding that a parked car could be happened upon any second. In three
cases, the girls were poisoned with strychnine. Fast-acting as that alkloid is,
how did the murderer get the women to ingest it before he got to Franz
Valley Road? The killer must have had a home to take the women to for at
least a short period; I was certain that the murderer must be some sort of
resident of Santa Rosa or at least have lodging there.

Starr, I remembered, had a trailer in Santa Rosa.

In the driving rain I made my way on Mark West Springs Road { until I
came to a fork. To my left was Franz Valley Road; to my right was Porter
Creek Road. Bodies had been found on both roads; I was reminded of
Zodiac's killings on Lake Herman Road and Blue Rock Springs. In both
cases the killer came to a fork in the road. One time he went right and next
he went to the left, ] in search of victims.

On Franz Valley Road, I drove until I came to the area where seven bodies
had been found, and parked my small car on the } shoulder of the road. I
made my way down the embankment through heavy trees and underbrush
to the floor of the ravine, some sixty feet below. The killer must have been
incredibly strong to hurl bodies over a fence and past the heavy shrubs and
foliage to the bottom of the ravine.

Drenched, I drove my car to the end of Franz Valley Road, where I realized
that even if the killer had taken the Porter Creek fork he would have met up
with Franz Valley Road again at Calistoga. And for the first time I became
aware of how very close to Pacific Union College at Angwin I was.
Shepard and Hartnell had been students there.

Friday, April 25, 1980

As I drove to Santa Rosa, I thought of Dean Ferrin. He had begun

to receive crank calls about his wife's death at the hands of

Zodiac.

Starr was not at the store when I stopped to look for him, so

280
I got back in my car and drove past his home. All of his cars were there.
One was a gray Skylark, one was a blue-white Corvair, and the other car
was a 1967 V.W. Karmann Ghia, an almost exact duplicate of Bryan
Hartnell's car from the Lake Berryessa attack. He also had two sailboats and
somewhere else three "special construction" trailer-campers.

I figured he had taken a long late lunch. At 3:00 I went back to the store;
there was still no sign of him. I decided to take another look at the poster in
back with its printing that resembled Zodiac's. As I had feared, it was gone.
But as I turned away, I saw something that brought me up short

Hanging slightly above my eye level were six clipboards with notes and
writing on them. One of them had block handprinting on it in felt-tip pen
that was the closest to the Zodiac printing that I had ever seen. The block of
printing was signed. It was signed by Starr.

V.P.D. had told me that they had no samples of Starr's printing (though I had
seen script letters that the police had in their files that Stan had mailed from
the mental institution) and that he now typed everything.

The store was crowded and dark and I knew that taking a photograph
without arousing the attention of the staff would be next to impossible. Too,
Starr could return any moment for his clipboard; I didn't want to tangle with
him. I came back a short time later with a friend and we bought a few items,
then moved to the back of the store. I pretended to take a picture of my
friend clowning around with a wooden spoon. What I was really
photographing, with the lens wide open, was the lettering almost four feet
away. We did this in an open, loud, obvious way, and it came off perfectly.

Now I had to get the photo of the clipboard developed and enlarged. I
couldn't believe that anything could possibly come out under the
circumstances, but I decided to get the best photographer I knew to try and
bring the printing up enough for Morrill to examine.

My absurd backup plan, if the photo was a dud, was to make a copy of the
note in felt-tip and tape it down to a brown clipboard exactly like the one in
Starr's store. I would then go back to the
store and make a switch with my copy. I knew I was a good enough artist
that if I put the two side by side and moved them around Starr himself
couldn't tell which was his and which was the one I brought into the store.

Monday, April 28, 1980

Gary Fong developed the film for me.

"It's going to be a bit grainy/' he said.

'That's fine," I said. "I'll be happy just to get anything to send to

Sacramento."

It wasn't until midafternoon that Gary had enlarged it enough to please

himself. I got a sharp, clear black-and-white eight-by-ten from him. At
4:30,1 mailed it to Morrill in Sacramento by special delivery. The people at
the post office assured me that he would get it early the next morning.

Tuesday, April 29, 1980

At 10:17 a.m., Morrill called and told me that he had gotten my exemplar
and, with the other handwriting expert there, Dave DeGarmo, from Pleasant
Hill, had looked at die sample.

"On the basis of the exemplar you sent me, Robert, I cannot rule this man
out as the Zodiac killer," Morrill said. "They look good. I've got DeGarmo
here with me. Could you get us more samples of his writing?"

I promised I would.

I decided to use the direct approach.

Thursday, May 1, 1980

I called Starr's employer at home at 8:30 p.m. I explained that I needed help
in regard to an urgent, serious, and confidential matter and needed
specimens of printing from someone who

r
worked at his store. I emphasized that I wasn't interested in the content of
the handprinting but only in the shape and spacing of the individual
characters. I held back Starr's name because I didn't want to jeopardize the
job of an innocent man. And at no time did I mention that it involved a
murder case.

"Wait a minute! Are you insinuating that there is the possibility that there is
someone in my employ who might be a criminal?" the boss said. "Sir, I
don't employ criminals!"

Mo f it has to do with threatening letters received over a ten-year period," I

said.

"I've got to think about it," the boss said. "1 don't think I'd like anyone
doing that to me."

Over the next few weeks he changed his mind several times, but in the end,
I was denied access to the freight files and Starr's requisition slips.

Because of the search warrant served on Starr in 1971, the Vallejo P.D. was
hesitant to request another, especially now that Starr had moved to another
county. Husted, saddled with other cases, would, I imagined, have preferred
that a civilian gather handprinting samples. As a favor to me, Morrill was
checking them out.

Thursday, August 7, 1980

And so for some time, in an effort to get samples of Starr's handprinting, I

asked my friends to buy things from him.

"Did you know that I used to be a teacher 7 " Stan told one female friend of
mine. "I taught one class of eighth graders, but I really enjoyed teaching
elementary school kids. My kids did well —one little girl in the third grade
knew tenth-grade math by the time she graduated. My entire class could
read at seventh-grade level. I loved working with elementary school kids."

"That's a great age," my friend agreed.

"I thought that would be the up and coming field. And now I can't get a
teaching job, so I end up working here, six days a week for $5.32 an hour.
The only day I get off is Friday."

"Do you always work six days a week? That must be hard."

"Yes, except for one time when I took a few days off without pay, but it was
like pulling teeth to get them/' said Starr.

"Well, you know how hard teaching jobs are to get in California."

'True, but I'm going down tomorrow night to apply for a job teaching adult
education—twenty hours a week at $10.00 an hour. It sure beats what I
make here.

"But this job is all right. I like dealing with people," he said, looking
straight through her.

Zodiac

Tuesday, August 12, 1980

I drove to Napa to ask Ken Narlow if he thought that Zodiac was involved
in die Santa Rosa murders.

The broad-faced, heavyset lawman didn't pause a second but answered,

"Not really. We considered some of them, but the characteristics were not
compatible."

"We've aD got our favorites," he said. "Toschi and Armstrong were always
high on Starr. I've been high on Andrews. We're all just guessing."

Narlow and I began looking through Don Andrews' file, comparing it to the
information we had on Starr.

"Don Andrews Engine Repair," said Narlow, "might be a cover or he might

have actually repaired them. Father was Oscar Andrews [this name
changed], mother was Betty Moran [this name has been altered]. Here he
was booked as a transient by L.A.P.D. Identification was recorded as Walt
Hansen [this name has been changed], January 11, 1945. Occupation given
as stage singer.

"Well," said Narlow, pounding his desk for emphasis, "I'D tell you, if
Andrews isn't Ac Zodiac, I'D take one just like him."

A 1969 photo of him was very close to the Zodiac composite drawing when
Narlow laid them alongside each other.

"See, here he gives his occupation as engine builder/' said the detective, still
looking through the file. "Walt Hansen is the same as Don Andrews. Here's
an affidavit of registration in 1967. He lists his occupation as engine
builder. Here's his rap sheet. You definitely have a Don Andrews alias
Oliver Walter Hansen.

"Kathleen Johns said the Zodiac wore a band on his eyeglasses. So does
Howard.

"In 1969 Napa had three homicides within ten days, which just tore a small
department like ours apart, manpower-wise. We were kind of fragmented in
the investigation division so I requested that an investigator from the
Department of Justice be assigned to help us with this case the moment we
found out it was tied in with the slayings in Vallejo and Solano County. We
were assigned Mel Nicolai, a very close personal friend of mine.

"Informational time charts (PERT Charts) were done on all the Zodiac
crimes with the assistance of the Department of Justice so that the officers
involved could keep in contact with all the evidence and time sequences.
We do it on major homicides and surely on something as complex as this,
involving so many different police agencies. AD the palm prints Napa has
have been checked against the suspects. Now San Francisco's got fingertips.
One in blood/'

I asked Narlow about the story of Bob Hall Starr and the two hunters, when
he predicted in 1966 that he would kill couples and call himself Zodiac.

'That story is so bizarre you don't know whether to believe it or not.

Sometimes people concoct things like this, for whatever reason. Maybe
they firmly believe it. I don't know, but that story about him talking about
those things is so pat that if he in fact did say it, then he almost has to be the
Zodiac.*

"It would be difficult at this point if a man were to come in here and confess
to the Zodiac killings. It would take a considerable length of time for us to
unravel some of the things he said to

i htcr learned thai there was tone antagonism between Starr and one of the h
u nt e n that could cause the report to be suspect

determine whether it came out of newspaper clippings or interviews with

people. Of course, there are certain little things that we've held back," said
Narlow.

Saturday, October 25, 1980

It had become apparent to me over the years that the police departments
were not exchanging their best Zodiac information with each other. I
remember Toschi telling me, "Narlow could never put Don [Andrews]
down in the area of Riverside but we could. Still we don't know how long
he was down there in Riverside."

After a visit to see Husted in Vallejo, I called Toschi.

"This guy, Andy Todd Walker, they were so hot on, he supposedly was the
one sitting in the restaurant all the time bugging Darlene But Bobbie Ramos
told me, 'No! That wasn't the one. I told them it wasn't him!'

"There was a guy doing these things, poking around in Darlene Ferrin's life.
I just don't think Walker was the one. They all say they saw a man in a
white sedan with old California plates. Bobbie saw this guy, stocky, light
curly hair. You know, the whole bit. A lot of people have seen this man," I
told him.

"Obviously," said Toschi, "you've got so much information I'd like to see it
all come together. I think it's terrific. I really think it was someone from
Vallejo or close to Darlene. Right now it looks that way. The more
information you keep getting, the more it leads to the area there."

Saturday, November 8, 1980

In answer to a letter I wrote, Darlene Ferrin's sister Linda called me. Since
Darlene's death her life had been chaos and she was calling me from near
Stockton.

I had only one question at this time, "Linda: did Darlene go to Lake
Berryessa?"

"Yes," she said, "she liked it up there. And that's why ... I believe Darlene
knew Cecilia Shepard."

Saturday, December 20, 1980

My attempts at following Starr were as worthless as before. I was certain he

was on guard. However, 1 got hold of some job applications he had recently
filled out and some business receipts from 1980. I drove to Sacramento and
arrived at Sherwood Morrill's just before 8:00 at night. Morrill was anxious
to see more of Starr's printing.

He studied the samples for five minutes and then looked up at me. "Well,
right off, Starr has none of the three-stroke k's we associate with Zodiac.
And take a look at Zodiac's n. It's either like a checkmark or a hump. Now
Stan's n's are rounded. Stan's y, too, is all wrong. But outside of that the
samples are close enough that I still want to see more."

Sherwood thought that the printing that Starr was doing since he'd gotten
out of prison was contrived and not natural to him.

Monday, January 12, 1981

I called to set up an appointment with Jack Mulanax, the policeman who

had replaced Lynch and Rust on the Ferrin-Mageau investigation. He was a
private detective now, but wouldn't touch a case if he thought the client was
guilty.
"I understand that you had a suspect you liked a lot," I said. "Was this
suspect named Starr?"

"Yes. Stan was the only suspect I ever developed that I had any strong
feelings about," said Mulanax.

"I have a file on Starr that you might like to see," I told him. "I got his
scholastic record."

"Starr was down in Southern California on the first Zodiac murder," said
Mulanax. "Down at Riverside. He was a student at the college."

"Bob Starr? That's astounding. Stan seems convinced that he is the Zodiac
now. He evidently told some people that he is," I said. "He's working at a
store right in Santa Rosa now."

"I don't feel there's any proof now. But at the time I was real

high on him. I think Bill and Dave Toschi were too."

"Did you ever have anyone besides Starr?"

"The only one that ever turned me on was Starr. I didn't realize that he was
still around here [in the Bay Area]."

"I go in all the time and buy things from him. But I can't get him to print
anything. I know Morrill saw some of Starr's printing. His writing has
changed a lot over the years."

"I wasn't aware that this Starr was still around. We'll have to use a little
discretion," said Mulanax. He sounded worried.

"Assuming it isn't Starr, do you think the Zodiac is still alive?"

"It's the consensus that the guy is either dead or in a mental institution or
penal institution."

"But that's where Starr has been, in 1975 to 1978."

"I wasn't aware of that."

"And what I thought was interesting is that after Toschi and Armstrong
talked to Starr in his trailer we stopped getting letters from the Zodiac," I
continued. "By the way, how did you get on to Starr?"

"Some people who knew him."

"Oh, the hunters, the two guys in the woods with him."

"Yes."

Wednesday, January 14, 1981

Over coffee Toschi and I discussed Starr. "Dave, I've got something I'm not
sure you know," I said. "Starr was at Riverside College in 1966."

There was a long pause as Toschi absorbed this.

"His family had told us something about Starr being around the Riverside
area in the middle or late sixties," Toschi said. "It's never been confirmed."

"I was surprised, to say the least. I was able to place him there only in the
early seventies before.

"If Starr were actually at Riverside College maybe someone saw him with
scratches on his face the day after the Bates killing. He's the first suspect
that I've run across who was also at ROC.

"We knew he was in the area but not at RCC."

'That's what I thought."

"When the family came to us," said Toschi, "we told V.P.D. about Starr.
They had already scanned him very, very briefly. Mulanax's eyes really
popped. He actually thought we had him."

"You might have. Starr has a friend that Husted knows about. He's afraid of
Starr, and his wife asked him not to speak to the police. Seems one night
while they were out drinking, Stan hinted to this friend that he was Zodiac.
This is the man that Starr wrote to while he was in the institution. There is a
remote possibility that he was also a patient at Atascadero when Starr was
there."

"I wish I could give you a better suspect than Stan," Toschi said, "We
exhausted every avenue. We just didn't know which way to go after we
searched his trailer."

"Since you're off the case, if I was able to come up with some proof on
Starr, whom would I give it to?" I asked. "Would you have trouble
presenting it to your department?"

"You might be better off staying with someone in V.P.D. Starr is outside of
our jurisdiction."

"Right. I've been passing everything along to Husted anyway. I was just
concerned."

"I know you are," said Toschi, leaning back in his chair.

"A guy who's only under the delusion that he's the Zodiac," I said, "couldn't
really plan to be in Riverside in 1966, because the Riverside murder was
only uncovered long after Starr became a suspect. Zodiac even attempted to
conceal his connection to the crime, only belatedly taking credit, as if he
had made some sort of slip. There's an awful impressive case against the
guy."

"We sure tried to get him," sighed Toschi, "and everything we had we
passed on to Vallejo. But I'm aware after talking to you that so much of
what V.P.D. had was not relayed over here to us, and I'm sorry. It was like a
one-way street."

"Starr does have a .22."

"We knew that. Well, he was an outdoorsman, and aD that. Rifle, handgun.
But not enough for us to book him on a warrant."
"And why does he change can all the time if he's not up to something?"

Monday, January 19, 1981

After I arrived at Jack Mulanax's home in Vallejo, he decided to take me out

to the crime scenes again. The heavy rain had stopped and was now mist.
Mulanax carried two handguns in holsters with him to his truck. As the big
man slid behind the wheel, he stashed the weapons under the front seat.
There was a rifle rack on the truck Besides being a P. I., Mulanax was an
avid deer hunter.

After we had looked at the Lake Herman site, he took me out to Blue Rock
Springs and told me about a trap the police had set up, a decoy, a couple of
dummies in a car to the west of the parking lot. The car was parked partially
in the woods and a stakeout set up. Nothing came of it

Mulanax said, "I was real surprised when you told me Starr was working in
the Bay Area. Is his mother still alive?"

"She spends her time traveling."

"Evidently there is some money in that family."

"He's got a new Karmann Ghia and quite a few other cars."

Mulanax rummaged among the notes he had taken. "I don't know if this was
indicated in our reports. I just read this part this morning," he said.

At this point I learned a stunning piece of information.

"There is a voiceprint of Zodiac speaking to Nancy Slover [the police

operator at V.P.D.] on the night of the murder."

I ran to a booth in Vallejo and dialed Toschi in San Francisco.

"Dave, did you know that there is a tape of Zodiac calling Nancy Solver?
Mulanax told me that Linda, Darlene's sister, has heard it as well."
"Oh, really. I was never aware of it," Toschi said gravely. "That's
interesting. She says she heard a tape. I'd like to know about that. Try and
verify that."

"It does seem terribly important."

"Well, sure it does."

"I wanted you to know. I'm looking into it," I promised. I told Toschi about
the composite drawing that Linda had produced for V.P.D. of the man she
saw at Darlene's painting party and how

closely it matched the Zodiac composite on the wanted poster.

"Ours? For Chrissake."

"Also, according to Linda and some of her friends, there was a man
bringing Darlene presents from Mexico. All they knew was that he was
called Bob. She described him with close-cropped hair, paunch, muscular. It
sounds a lot like Stan. Evidently she got the connection across because the
police were looking into people named Bob."

I told Toschi that Bobbie Ramos, when asked by the police who Darlene's
closest friends were, answered, "Sue Cilmore, Robbie, and this guy named
Bob who used to bring her presents from Mexico." The presents were a
silver dollar purse and a belt.

Thursday, March 5, 1981

I drove the thirty-six miles to Vallejo in a downpour to check out a hunch I

had about the Blue Rock Springs murder. I passed,the oil refineries to my
left on the way, thousands of twinkling lights amid blue-white steam
billowing from the towers.

Re-creating the crime, I left Darlene's house at 11:40 p.m. (although the
sitters told me it was closer to midnight when she actually left), and drove
on Georgia Street straight to Mike's house on Beech wood. I arrived there at
11:45.1 waited only one minute, and then drove to Blue Rock Springs and
stopped in the lot at 11:51. I allowed enough time for the shooting at
midnight, and then drove down Springs Road to the phone booth used by
Zodiac to phone the Vallejo Police Department. Even with the rain, the poor
visibility, and obeying the speed limit and all stop signs and lights, I got to
the booth at 12:09. Zodiac's call to the police was made at 12:40.

That left thirty minutes unaccounted for.

The booth was less than a block from Darlene's house and in front of the
Sheriff's Department parking lot. The lot is large and open, and Darlene's
home was easily visible across it. I had to ask myself, would Zodiac park
almost directly in front of the Sheriff's Office, in a car that may have been
seen leaving the scene of the

crime? And for over a half an hour? Isn't it more likely that he lived near
the police and sheriff's departments and went home to hear the sirens of
squad cars rushing to Blue Rock Springs. When this didn't happen, might
not he have walked to the phone booth and reported the shooting, so that he
could get his kicks in exactly the same way he was to do later in Napa? By
12:47 the police knew exactly where the call was placed and anyone in the
Sheriffs department could look across the lot and see a person in the lighted
booth.

After Zodiac finished his call, a call he knew was in the process of being
traced, he was seen by an unidentified black man. Would he dare use
another booth in the area to place his one o'clock crank calls to Darlene's
house and Dean's relatives? Particularly if the area was mostly black? My
thought was that he made at least the second calls from his own home. He
finished at the booth at 12:45 and made his crank call at 1:00, fifteen
minutes later.

If Zodiac arrived home at 12:09, he would have hidden his car in the
garage, hidden his gun, and waited for the sound of sirens. Lynch did "not
roll immediately" on the report of shooting, and so, tired of waiting, Zodiac
leaves at 12:25. He walks to the booth, about a fifteen-minute walk, and
makes his call to the police. Then the roughly fifteen-minute stroll home,
slowly so as to not attract attention, and perhaps irresistibly past Darlene's
so that he could look into the darkened window. Was Zodiac's home in the
direction of Darlene's from the booth?

With the phone booth in the center, was Zodiac's home within a fifteen-
minute walking distance?

Few homes in Darlene's neighborhood had garages, and I felt that the killer
needed a garage to hide his Chevrolet. Starr had one. Going by the Zodiac
letters, he would also have a basement, another rarity in this neighborhood.
Starr had one. His house at the time was exactly a fourteen- or fifteen-
minute walk away from the phone booth.

Beyond everything eke, I still firmly believed that Zodiac knew Darlene
and that she had known who he really was. Zodiac knew Darlene's
nickname. With no word of the attack on radio or television, he knew her
home phone number, not yet listed in the

phonebook since she lived in a new house purchased two months earlier. He
knew her, because with all the booths available in Vallejo, he called from
within sight of her home.

Darlene was hounded by a man in a white Chevrolet sedan, a man who sat
in front of her house, who frightened her at the painting party and asked
about her at Terry's.

Fifteen minutes before the killings on Lake Herman Road, and throughout
the evening, a white Chevrolet sedan was seen parked exactly where the
murderer's car was parked. If the killer of Faraday and Jensen drove a white
Chevrolet and the man asking about Darlene drove a white Chevrolet, then
chances were that they all belonged to the same man, Zodiac.

Zodiac was able to describe Darlene's outfit in detail even though he saw it
only briefly; knew her well enough to follow her from her boyfriend's home
and then caD V.P.D. across from her own home on Virginia. If he knew her,
then he may have been the man calling all day for her that July Fourth.
Darlene knew "something big was going to happen." Too, she was a friend
of other victims. More than one person had told me that she knew Cecelia
Ann Shepard.
Saturday, March 7, 1981

I arrived at the home of Detective Sergeant John Lynch in Vallejo. He was a

small, solid, older man, with penetrating eyes. We sat in his dining room.

"What about Mike Mageau?" I asked.

"That guy was a tough guy to fathom. ... I never did figure out what was
wrong with him. To tell you the truth, I never talked to anybody that I even
remotely suspected."

"You wrote Dean off as a suspect?"

"That night. You know when it happened that's what we at first thought."

"Darlene dated a lot of guys?"

"Oh, all kinds of guys. She was a goer."

"What about Bob?" I asked.

"Bob? Oh, Bob Starr. I talked to him at great length several times. He was
up the coast at Bodega Bay. He's a skin diver. On that Fourth of July, 1969,
he said he was with three or four other guys."

"When did you speak with him? In 1971?"

"Long before that. Within one or two months of the killing. I don't know
how I got his name in the first place. He's a great big guy. Have you seen
him?"

"He's bigger now," I replied. "Husted likes Stan the best."

"I like him the least. I was positive it wasn't Stan. The minute I looked at
him, I said mentally that isn't Zodiac. I only typed in five or six lines on the
report on Stan. Only in order to get Starr's name in. I talked with him for
about an hour. Checked on his car, and he had his scuba gear in the back of
the car. Real old, dirty car, that didn't even remotely resemble—"
"He's had a lot of cars though," I interjected. "He's got four now."

"Oh, I didn't know that," said Lynch.

I thought to myself that Lynch had cleared Stan because he did not match
Lynch's visual impression of the killer.

Lynch's replacements over the years did not go back and check die early
suspects cleared by Lynch.

Sunday, March 29, 1981

Sheriff Al Howenstein had been in a whirl. In two yean he had collected

over two thousand suspects in his search for the notorious 4 Trailside
Killer." This murderer had stalked Marin County's steep hiking trails,
shooting and stabbing seven young people, always preceding the attacks
with threats of rape accompanied by an arcane presexual ritual and followed
by actual sexual attack in a few instances. Oddly, many of the deaths
occurred around holidays. The Trailside Killer's victims were:

Edda Kane, forty-four, shot by two 44-caliber slugs in the back of the head.

Barbara Schwartz, twenty-three, stabbed by butcher knife, which was found

nearby along with the killer's bloodstained hornrimmed bifocal glasses.

Anne Evelyn Alderson, twenty-six, shot by a large-bore weapon in the

head.

Diane O'Connell, twenty-two, and Shauna May, twenty-three, shot in the

head execution-style.

In the search for O'Connell and May the badly decomposed and fully
clothed corpses of Cynthia Moreland, eighteen, and Richard Stowers,
nineteen, were found, also shot in the head but a month earlier. Police
realized that May and O'Connell had been killed to call attention to the
earlier murders.

Today there were two more victims, one hundred miles from the last
trailside murder: Ellen Marie Hansen, twenty, who was killed instantly and
Steven Russell Haertle, twenty, who was only wounded. They were in the
mountains above Santa Cruz.

After surgery, Haertle described the man in great detail and a set of
composite drawings was made. The killer was between forty-five and fifty-
five years old, about five foot nine inches tall, and weighed 175 pounds. He
had gray, close-croppped hair, hazel eyes, and wore dark horn-rimmed
glasses with faded stems. He spoke in a "slow and deliberate manner" and
had very clean hands. The slayer wore blue bell-bottom Levis and white
running shoes, a green baseball cap, a gold nylon windbreaker with
"Olympic Drinking Team, Montana" on the back. He had crooked yellow
teeth. Witnesses saw the killer flee on foot, take off his glasses, and speed
out of the campground in a red "foreign car/'

Stowers, Moreland, O'Connell, May, Alderson, and Hansen were all killed
with the same .38 with round-nosed bullets. Both Marin and Santa Cruz
investigators announced that they "strongly believed" that the Santa Cruz
slaying was the work of Marin's Trailside Killer.

Obviously, this Trailside Killer reminded me of Zodiac.

Starr's file computer number had been sent to Santa Cruz police on April 2
by Husted. The next day, KTVU-TV an-

nounced that, based on similarities to the composite drawing, the Traikkle

Killer might also be Zodiac.

Police eventually arrested and convicted David). Carpenter as the Trailside

Killer He had been cleared as a Zodiac suspect by Toschi in 1970 and
Husted in 1979, on the basis of handwriting and fingerprints. Additionally, I
learned that he was in jail during the time three of the Zodiac murders took
place.

Friday, May 15, 1981

A furious and crestfallen Toschi spoke to me. "We've sent all our Zodiac
files to Sacramento. Seems the agencies involved have decided to let the
State [Department of Justice coordinate the 'dead Zodiac investigation.' I
was hoping that Lieutenant Jack Jordan of Homicide would hold onto some
parts of the case. They never wanted to be bothered by the Zodiac, mostly
because it meant a hell of a lot of work. Deasy himself drove everything to
Sacramento. He never bothered to learn the case," said Toschi bitterly, "and
now they've even sent copies of our btents from the cab to the Department
of Justice.

"A state employee will be coordinator. What the hell he'll be doing is
anybody's guess," Toschi snapped. "I'm very saddened by this. What a
shame. We haven't kept any of the files." He shook his head. "AD the
handprinting reports by Morrill, the fingerprint reports, aO gone to
Sacramento. I think S.F.P.D. made a mistake not keeping something."

An expression of annoyance crossed Toschi's face. "When I think of the

man-hours and months and yean compiling the unrepbceable alphabetical
files on suspects: Whenever someone asked me, Toschi, what the hell have
you been doing on the goddamn Zodiac case?' I could always point at my
cabinets and sit back and see the look of amazement on his face. Now if
someone asks me, all we have is one maniDa folder in a 1969 unsolved
drawer," he said with emotion. "Sure doesn't show much. Now some poor
guy who has no idea what the Zodiac is really like has to investigate."

Toschi got to his feet and walked to the window. "How can we expect this
poor guy to know what he's doing. Sad. Very sad/' he concluded. 'They'll
never catch him now."

After the Zodiac case had moved to the State Department of j Justice, I
began working with a source there.

Thursday, June 18, 1981

"A few good leads," my Department of Justice source told me, ''brand-new
people and a few old names. However, everybody kind of thinks it's this
one guy that used to live in Vallejo."

"Yeah, Starr. He's a fascinating guy," I agreed.

"I figured you were writing about him. Everybody seems to be leaning
toward him. ... I don't know if we're barking up the wrong tree, because
there's no evidence to indicate that Starr's anything but a nut. I've got all the
files from S.F.P.D. on three-by-five cards. All they seem to be looking at,
concentrating on, is the fingerprint on Stine's cab," he confessed.

"Do you believe that is Zodiac's print?" I asked.

"I don't know. You know the witnesses indicated that he wiped the cab
down to remove any prints. Right now I've been looking at the handwriting.
There was one tip that came from a Bay Area town. I'm checking that guy
out."

"That wouldn't be Santa Rosa, would it?"

"How did you know?"

"That's where Starr's living now."

"Like I say, Robert, I have gotten so many damn calls on this Starr, I spend
my time trying to do a background. I don't want to be left holding the bag.
The last person on the case."

He told me about a new suspect from Montana, who had lived I in Marin
County. He had no criminal record in California. "One i of the handwriting
experts, Prouty, has indicated that there are some characteristics noted
between the handwriting of this man and those of the Zodiac letters," my
source told me. "But these are not enough to warrant identification to a
degree of probability

of authorship. They do indicate to the examiner that more handwriting

samples and comparisons arc called for."

I suddenly realized that this "new" suspect was Don Andrews. My source
was going to be repeating a lot of work that had already been done. It was
good to hear that Prouty agreed with Morrill that Andrews' movie poster
writing was as close to Zodiac writing as anyone had yet found.
"Look, Stan might be the guy," he continued, Tin not saying he's not. Starr
goes to libraries and does a lot of research on crimes against women. He
uses this to scare his friends into believing that he might be the Zodiac
killer. Every investigator I've talked to thinks it's him."

"I'D give you something to read," I said. "I'D send you my chapter on Stan
in the morning."

"That's great. You treat me right, I'll treat you right. If there's something
there that'D get you started on something, I'll let you know."

While I was in Sacramento, I dropped in on Sherwood Morrill, who was

busier than ever in his retirement. I had some letters from Penny in the
trunk of my car, and Morrill and I compared them to the Zodiac printing.
They did not match in any way. "I get them all, Robert. A group of San
Francisco people have been calling me for yean telling me that a wealthy
banker in the area where Stine was killed is the Zodiac. They got into his
yard, swiped all his garbage cans, and drove them up here and dumped
them all over my lawn and started rooting through them to show me his
handprinting on letters and bills." Morrill sighed. "I just threw up my hands
and went in the house."

Wednesday, January 6, 1982

The years of frustration finally caught up with Toschi. This evening, in his
floral-patterned yellow kitchen, Toschi rose to get a glass of milk from the
refrigerator. As he leaned forward, he suddenly doubled over in pain and
slumped to the floor. Card

called an ambulance and Toschi was rushed to Children's Hospital with

massive internal bleeding.

Yet when he finally returned home, he could not stop working on the case in
his mind.

Wednesday, August 3, 1983

After months of working on finding Don Andrews, I found him effortlessly,
and in a matter of seconds. Suddenly I knew exactly where he was. As I
crossed the room, I didn't rush; my hunch was that strong. My mind had
gone back to my conversation with Narlow when we were trying to
determine if Don had used the alias of Hansen. "See," said Narlow; "here he
gives his occupation as engine builder. Walt Hansen is the same as Don
Andrews."

In the yellow pages for San Francisco, under "Engine Building," I found
this listing: "Andrew Donaldson." (This name has been changed.)

I had my friend call the number listed, then she called me back.

"I had a long conversation with him under the pretext of having some work
done. He told me that he hasn't been in Southern California except for San
Diego. He said he'd never been to Riverside. I told him I'd been a student
there. He told me that he doesn't do engine repair full time.

"Donaldson told me he's listed in both the yellow and white pages. He said
he wanted to be different, but didn't say how. You'll love this. He said,
regarding his listing with a number and no address, 'Anyone who knows me
will know it's me.'

"I'm supposed to call back tomorrow to get the address and make an
appointment. Is he the right one?"

"The dates match up. When you get the address, let's pay him a visit."

Thursday, August 4, 1983

The man who answered was Don Andrews, all right. The dark horn-rim
glasses were held on by an elastic band in the back just as I had been told.

As Narlow had said, Andrews was interesting and intelligent and talked on
and on. I was impressed by the multiple layers of his personalities that I
knew lay beneath the identity he had assumed for his latest role in life.
Earlier in the evening I had paid a visit to Don's old house in the Haight.
Don had lived there in 1969, the same time as Darlene and her first
husband, and Dar-lene had lived only one block away.

My friend described her car, a white Renault Caravelle with stripped gears.
This was the kind of car that Don had owned at the time of the Lake
Berryessa killing. This got a big response out of him—a quick uplifting of
his head. I could tell the man was instantly suspicious. As I watched my
friend and Don talking about how she would be bringing her car by in the
morning (a visit I knew she had no intention of ever following through on),
I looked around the spacious apartment with its movie posters and film
stills. He seemed to identify strongly with Oliver Hardy. Everywhere, there
were photos of Hardy without Stan Laurel.

I could tell as we left that my friend was very impressed and considered
him more of a suspect than ever. "My god, he seems shrewd," she
murmured as we went carefully down the steps in the dark. "He seems so
really intelligent. I think he really could be the Zodiac/'

I said nothing, but deep inside, my suspicions about Don had faded. He was
a fascinating suspect, but I no longer believed it was he. It was Stan who
seemed to dominate the case, from as far back as the murder of Cheri Jo
Bates in Riverside.

Zodiac

Tuesday, December 20, 1983

Evening. The wind rolled the mounded trees of Lake Herman Road, trees
lost and found in the curves of the road and the unusual white fog. Exactly
fifteen years after Zodiac killed Betty Lou and David, I drove out to where
it all began, by the old pump house near the gravel entry road. The few cars
that passed me appeared suddenly and swiftly vanished.

I pulled up to the metal gate to the pump house and cut the engine. There
were no lights anywhere. As I looked at the spot next to my car, where the
killer's white Chevrolet had been parked so long ago, I wondered: With the
wealth of information we had had about Zodiac, where were we going
wrong? What was the mistake in perception that prevented us from seeing
who he truly was? Narlow had said, "There's enough here we ought to be
able to break this case. Either that, or he's just sending us around in circles."

I thought of all the theories that had come to me over the years. Was Zodiac
a mental patient who was released or escaped periodically and during these
intervals of freedom became active as a killer? Was he so sick that his
double identity was unknown even

to himself? No. I knew this could be true of a paranoid schizophrenic, but

not a sexual sadist (which Zodiac is). He would know what he was doing
and would remember.

Were there two Zodiacs, one doing the killing and one doing the writing of
the letters? Were there multiple Zodiacs such as Sergeant Lundblad had
once suggested? I doubted such a great secret could be kept by more than
one person.

Was there no Zodiac? Could the entire case have been one monstrous hoax,
the work of someone who took credit for unrelated crimes? If so he would
at least be the killer of Paul Stine or a confederate of the killer because of
the bloody shirt scrap mailed with some of the letters. The printing on the
car door at Lake Berryessa also linked Zodiac to that crime.

Zodiac might be a traveling salesman who sold death county by county,

state to state. Could he have been, as he hinted, a hunter (the expert
marksmanship and the killer's knowledge of the area pointed to this), who
had grown bored with animal game.

Perhaps a military man, a sailor stationed for a while in the Bay Area and
then transferred? The gaps in the murder activities were about right for this.
The Wing Walker shoes, the cipher training, crew-cut hair style, navy garb,
and the highly polished shine on his shoes would (it. However, for Zodiac
to keep arranging to return to a Bay Area post was improbable.
Most chilling of all, was he a man on the inside, a cop turned killer? The
Highway Patrol driving techniques, shooting skill, knowledge of police I.D.
techniques, the outstretched flashlight led this way. Had he actually helped
in the search for himself? Was he a reporter for one of the papers that
Zodiac contacted? His command of punctuation and grammar was above
normal. Both of these jobs would have given Zodiac access to progress in
the investigation. Or was he merely a police groupie giving the detectives
ideas on how to catch the killer?

As to the fate of the Zodiac, he may have been arrested for another crime,
become a suicide, died in an accident, or have been killed by one of his
intended victims. But in all of these cases evidence to his other identity as a
mass murderer would certainly have been found out.

He may have burned out and stopped killing, or people who were sure of
his guilt may have "taken care of him/' especially if the killer were a
policeman. Or the most horrible possibility of all —was he still killing after
all these years?

Of the 2500 Zodiac suspects, only one remains that excites the
investigators' interest and my own.

Bob Hall Starr, the "gut-feeling choice 0 of most detectives. Nobody knows
who Zodiac is but based on the evidence I have seen Starr is the best
suspect found so far.

Starr still carries a mysterious gray metal box he allows no one to look into.
Dr. Rykoff, the police-appointed psychologist, says that Starr has five
distinct personalities and doctors at Langley Porter and UC at Berkeley
have seen his case file.

He, of all suspects, can be placed at the scene of all Zodiac murders.

Bryan Hartnell was driven by Sergeant "Butch" Carlstadt to hear Starr's

voice at his job. Later he told me, "There was nothing about what I heard or
saw that would rule him out."
Starr has confided to his friends that he is Zodiac. Perhaps he just thinks he
is.

I climbed out of the car, zipped up my jacket, and looked down dark Lake
Herman Road. People around the Vallejo area have seen a man in a white
auto who tailgates women on moonlit nights. They even have a name for
him: "The Phantom of Cordelia/' I could imagine that phantom Chevy,
ghastly white, roaring down dusty California backroads, the stocky man
hunched behind the wheel, his moon-round face leaning into the lunar light.
The whisper of tires and the obsession.

There is a white fog tonight out on Lake Herman Road and the killing is
fifteen years into the past.

But not for Pam, Darlene's sister. She's being followed again, all the way to
Lakeport. And someone is leaving notes. And there are the calls—one at
her boyfriend's home in Antioch and one at her new home in the East Bay.

It's always the same man, saying the same line: "This is the Zodiac
speaking. . . ."

Sunday, July 22, 1984

Starr is now working in Santa Rosa.

I was curious to see if Stan was still refusing to print anything and my
friend agreed to help me find out.

We parked behind die rusty old anchor in the parking lot and walked around
to the front of the store.

I asked my friend for her thoughts on our visit to Starr. Here's what she later
wrote down:

Stan guided me in my purchases, helping me to select just the right item.

When my arms were too full of purchases, he offered me a basket, finally
throwing my list bad: on top of the supplies.
"I need just one more thing/' I said. "I need an itemized receipt for these
things."

"One of these people up here at the front cash registers wiB help you," he
replied. "I'm not authorized to do that anymore."

"Oh, you've been so helpful. Well, thanks so much for all your help and for
your tune."

From across the room, I observed Starr turning to face her, putting a
massive hand on each of her arms and grinning. In a second, he released
her. I could see his lips moving but I was too far away to hear what he was
saying.

She turned away, and Starr reached out and patted her shoulder.

Across the blinding!)- bright illuminated showroom, Starr was reflected in

the brass compass, duplicated in the shiny varnished sides of the Chris
Craft, reflected in the deep and highly polished floor, mirrored in the brass
work around him, and copied in a hundred polished shaft bearings. He was
reproduced full length in the floor to ceiling show window.

Stan was everywhere I looked.

Epilogue

Many of the people involved in the Zodiac case are gone now. Sergeant Les
Lundblad and coroner Dan Horan are deceased as well as Stella Borges,
who discovered the Lake Herman Road victims, and Darlene Ferrin's
mother.

Former San Francisco Police Chief Charles Gain now runs a profitable
mobile home court in Lemoore in Kings County and says he is "deliriously
happy".

Clement D. DeAmicis, Cain's former deputy for administration, was sacked

when the new chief, Cornelius P. Murphy II, replaced all of I Cain's
deputies in January of 1980. DeAmicis filed for retirement » and is now
working for a Fidelity Savings and Loan in a security cap- ; acity.

In July of 1979 John Shimoda ended his five-year relationship with I

S.F.P.D. and refused to do any more documents work for them. I suspected
this was because of the pressure put on him during the April 1978 Zodiac
letter investigation. One policeman told me, "There are many angry cops
around here because now we have to go to CI&I in Sacramento and on an
emergency case that's a long ride. The depart- I ment will now be forced to
train one of its own men."

Maupin's informant retired in late 1978 to the East Bay. Eric Zelms, the
junior patrolman in the radio car that stopped Zodiac in Presidio Heights
after Stine was shot, was killed in the line of duty on a New

Year's Eve shortly afterward. His senior partner has been promoted and is
still with S.F.P.D.

Inspector Bill Armstrong learned of an opening in the Bunco Division in

late winter of 1976. "I've looked at my last homicide," he told Toschi. He
retired at age fifty, October 1978.

It was a bad back that forced Edward Rust to quit VPD. He and Sergeant
Lynch have both retired, in Vallejo.

Lieutenant Jim Husted, the obsessed and driven Vallejo investigator, lost his
intelligence division and has been hurt in a string of work-related accidents.
He has been divorced, and spends much of his time at his ranch and
developing his private business.

Paul Avery, the Chronicle reporter who broke the Riverside Connection, is
now a prize-winning reporter for the Sacramento Bee.

As far as the surviving Zodiac victims are concerned: Mike Mageau is

living in Southern California under a new name.

Bryan Hartnell, completely recovered, is a successful lawyer in Southern

California. He sees Cecelia Shepard's family often.
Terry's Restaurant has been closed. Blue Rock Springs is no longer isolated;
new roads and housing developments have sprung up there as well as
Marine World/Africa U.S.A.

Janet, Darlene's babysitter on July 4, 1969, recalls, "Only about a week ago
it was on the news about the Zodiac again and I started thinking, 'Don't
have him turn up again. I baby-sat for the woman who got killed by the
Zodiac and it is part of you and every time you hear his name you just kinda
think, Oh, no!' "

As for Dean Ferrin, Carmela Leigh comments, "He was a good husband.
He's remarried, and he and his wife have a couple of children. But it will
always be with him."

After five successful years in Robbery Detail, Dave Toschi transferred in

May of 1984 to the Sex Crimes Detail. Then, on July 3, 1985, after thirty-
two years on the force, he retired to become head of security at the
Watergate apartment complex in Emeryville. "Zodiac was the most
frustrating of all my cases. I really believe it gave me bleeding ulcers," he
said.

Although several people claim to have heard it, the tape of Zodiac speaking
to the Vallejo Police Department has never been found.

Appendices

32. McLaughlin, Susan Mar. 2, 1973 Fri.

33. Vasquez, Rosa

May 29, 1973 Tues.

34. QuiLANTANC, YvONE

Jun. 9, 1973 Sat.

35. Thomas, Angela Jul. 2,1973 Sat

Stabbed
Almost nude

Strangled San Francisco Nude

Strangled San Francisco Nude

Smothered San Francisco Nude

Jul. 13, 1973 Fri.

37. Davis, Caroline Jul. 15, 1973 Sun.

38. Feusi, Nancy

Jul. 22, 1973 Sun

39. O'Dell, Laura Nov. 4, 1973 Sun.

40. Lane, Valarie Nov. 11, 1973 Sun.

41. Derryberry, Doris Nov. 11, 1973 Sun.

42. Fechtel, Cathy Dec. 2, 1973 Sun.

43. Shane, Michael Dec. 2, 1973 Sun.

44. Walsh, Theresa Dec. 22, 1973 Sat.

45. Merchant, Brenda Feb. I, 1974 Fri.

46. Braun, Donna Sept. 29, 1974 Sun.

47. Dye, Susan

Oct. 16, 1975 Thur.

48. Matthews, Teresa Feb. 24, 1979 Sat.

49. Rivera, Carmen May 20, 1981

Strangled San Francisco Nude

Poisoned Santa Rosa Nude

Almost nude

Strangled San Francisco Nude

Shot

Shot

Shot

Shot

Yuba

Yuba

Clothed

Clothed

Livermore Clothed

Livermore Clothed

Strangled Santa Rosa Nude

Stabbed Marysville Semi-

clothed

Strangled Monterey Nude

Strangled Santa Rosa Clothed

Strangled Sacramento Nude

Hayward

311

The Zodiac Letters

1. July 31, 1969 (Thursday), 1A to San Francisco Chronicle, contains one-

third of a cipher "This is the murderer . . . brand name is Western."

2. July 31,1969 (Thursday), 1A to San Francisco Examiner, contains one-

third of a cipher.

3. Jury 31, 1969 (Thursday), 1A to Vallejo Times-Herald, contains one-third

of a cipher. "I am the killer . . . print this."

4. August 7, 1969 (Tuesday), to Vallejo Times-Herald, three pages. First use

of the name Zodiac. "In answer to your asking for more details/'

5. October 13, 1969 (Monday), p.m. IB to San Francisco Chronicle on Stine

killing. Bloody scrap of shirt.

6. November 8, 1969 (Saturday), 4A p.m. 340-symbol cipher and greeting

card with dripping pen.

7. November 9, 1969 (Sunday), p.m. no postmark. Seven-page letter

"change my way of collecting ..."

8. December 20, 1969 (Saturday), no postmark, p.m., ca. at bottom center.

"Dear Melvin . . . Happy Christmas ..."

9. April 20, 1970 (Monday), 4A a.m. "My name is . . ." and bomb diagram.

10. April 28,1970 (Tuesday), H. p.m. Man on a dragon greeting card.

"Enjoy the blast . . ."

11. June 26, 1970 (Friday), 1A am Mt. Diablo and Phillips 66 road map.

12. Jury 24, 1970 (Friday), 6B p.m. Mention of Johns and baby.
13. July 26, 1970 (Sunday), no postmark, p.m. "Got a little list . . ."

14. October 5,1970 (Monday), 1A p.m. 3 X 5 card to Chronicle. "Pace isn't

any slower . . ."

15. October 27, 1970 (Tuesday), 6B p.m. "Your secret pal . . ."

16. March 13, 1971 (Saturday), Pleasanton 94566. Los Angeles rimes "Blue
Meanies . . ."

17. March 22,1971 (Monday). Four-cent postcard. "Peek through the pines.
. . ."

18. January 29, 1974 (Tuesday), 940 a.m. Exorcist Letter.

19. May 8, 1974 (Wednesday), Alameda County. Badlands Letter.

20. Jury 8, 1974 (Monday), San Rafael IB p.m. "Red Phantom . . ."

21. April 24, 1978 (Monday), 8B p.m. "I am back with you "

Riverside Writings

1. Riverside, November 1966. No stamp, no postmark.

2. Riverside, April 30, 1967 (Sunday). No postmark. To Riverside Press-

Enterprise; "Bates had to die " In pencil. Double postage

3. Riverside, April 30, 1967 (Sunday). No postmark. To Riverside Police

Department; "Bates had to die "In penal. Double postage.

4. Riverside, April 30, 1967 (Sunday). No postmark. To Joseph Bates,

"Bates had to die. . ." In pencil. Double postage.

5. Desk-top poem, found around the same time as Letters 1, 2, and 3.

Ballpoint pen, "Sick of Living

Bryan Hartnell's car door at Lake Berryessa, September 27, 1969

(Saturday).
Zodiac's Handprinting

Small, cramped style; blue felt-tip pen, double postage, writing trails
downward toward right. Stamps are pasted in odd angles; writer has
exhortations to rush and hurry on outside of envelope. He always
abbreviates California.

He uses few contractions and has good knowledge of punctuation.

He uses military way of numbering pages.

Abbreviates "San Fran Chron" or "Chronicle."

Writes "Editor" on back.

His spelling is good because he spells words correctly after having spelled
them incorrectly earlier in the same letter.

Left margin and printed lines were ruler straight. Size of letters showed
patience, concentration, and an interest in details and in follow-through.

Variability in spacing and letter size means he is a manic depressive.

Slant downward at end of letter means depression.

Letters on Eaton bond, IVi X 10*, with matching envelope.

In signing "yours truly:" odd punctuation.

Always begins with phrase "This is the Zodiac speaking"; no punctuation

after this opening phrase, it runs directly into the first sentence with a
period at the end of "that." (This varied only twice, in the first letter to
Vallejo Tunes-Herald and Chronicle.)

Everyone else's name is lowercase but "Zodiac" and T are always

uppercase.

Cursive d, sometimes three-stroke k

Letter i with dot circle over it. Letter n very small, not too round.

Most important: checkmark r.

W changes the most—rounded and then pointed.

Even in the middle of a carefully drawn letter, Zodiac would cross out a
word rather than begin again.

Zodiac's Speech Patterns

October 22,1969: Voice to Oakland Police Department was sure, not young.

July 4, 1969: Call at 12:40 to Vallejo Police Department (Nancy Slover), no

trace of accent. Man was reading or had rehearsed speech. Voice was even
and consistent, soft but forceful. When Slover attempted to interrupt, the
man just talked louder. At the end of the short statement, the man's voice
deepened and had become taunting. Hie caller sounded mature.

September 27, 1969: Remarkably calm voice, twenty to thirty years old, not
high- or low-pitched. The most monotone voice that Bryan HartneU had
ever heard (spoken through hood). 'That voice ... it was like ... a ... a
student. But kind of a drawl, not a Southern drawl, though." Even words;
soft-spoken. "He had a pronounced way of saying things. He volunteered
nothing." Hartnell had to "suck it out of him.'

Call to Napa Police Department: Calm voice in twenties; did not use
contractions.

March 22, 1970; Kathleen Johns: Monotone voice with no trace of accent,
no emotion. "No anger, no kind of emotion. Nothing. The words just come
out" He spoke very precisely.

Zodiac's Phrasing

Spelled clues as "dews" (British); "boughten" for past tense of "bought";

awkward construction, as "my collecting of slaves" instead of "collecting
slaves." Formal asides: "as one might say" instead of "so to speak."
Understatement: "I took them for a rather interesting ride."
Military: "waiting for me to come out of cover." Uses military num-

bcring on pages "Will pick off all stray people " "I shall wipe out a school
bus " "Just shoot out the front tire and pick off the kiddies as they come
bouncing out." "Kill rampage." "All I had to do was spray them " "Move in
on someone else's territory." "Unflappable," adjective meaning calm and
clear-thinking, Air Force phrase.

"Happy Christmas" and "boughten" British terms. "Boughten" was past

tense of bought in 1850s U.S.

"The good times," "very happy," "Happy Christmas," "having a good time,"
and "cheer up," phrases that point out the killer's depression. "Have some
fun," "it would cheer me up considerably," "I am rather unhappy."

Strange phrasing: "some bussy work," "mask the sound," "doesn't it rile
you?" "noze rubbed in your booboos," "will positively ventalate anything."

British type: "It could be rather messy if you try to bluff me"; "clews."

Imperious tone. "They have not complied with my wishes"; "I have grown
rather angry", "I shall no longer announce to anyone when I committ my
murders." Correct usage of "shall" and "will."

Formal asides: "as one might say" instead of "so to speak."

Uses phrases common to the young in 1969: police are "pigs" or "Blue
Meannies" (from the Beatles' movie, yeUow Submarine), "do my own
thing," "set the shit off."

Cops: "As one might say, I gave the cops some buzy work"; "Two cops
pulled a goof; "By the way it could be rather messy if you try to Muff me";
"I was leaving fake clews."

Blacks are referred to as Negroes.

Uses "kiddies" for children (Australian or British usage).

"Fiddle & fart around" is a phrase used by older people around Texas, most
common in Lubbock County.

Quotes Gilbert and Sullivan lyrics from memory.

Threat: "I will do something nasty, which you know I am capable of"
"Peek-a-boo—you are doomed." "I will loose all control of myself." "I am
Ending it extremely difficult to hold it in check. "They did not openly state
this." "This kind of murder-glorification can only be deplorable at best."

The Taurus sign occurs five times hidden in the October 27, 1970, sign and
the "my name is . . ." cipher. Either Zodiac was born between April 20 and
May 19 or he thinks he is a Taurus.

Zodiac Descriptions

October 30, 1966: Riverside, heawset young man; 5'H"; with a beard.

November 22, 1966: man thirty-five, 5'9" taD; with chunky protruding
stomach.

December 18, 1970: Contra Costa, burglar with a dark nylon ski jacket,
dark pants, navy blue knit cap, wearing welding goggles. Thirty; 5 '9*. The
man had wrapped adhesive tape around the ends of his fingers,
handkerchief over lower part of face.

February-July 3,1969: man following Darlene Ferrin—heavyset with a very

round face and with curry, wavy dark brown hair; middle-aged? Man (same
as above) at Darlene's May 1969 painting party: dark-rimmed glasses;
curry, wavy hair; an older man. Man at Terry's: thirty-five to thirty-eight.
175; 5'HV

July 4, 1969: the man appeared to have a very large face, was not wearing
glasses. He looked to be between twenty-six and thirty years old; had short,
curry, light brown hair. To Mike Mageau "the man's build was beefy,
heavyset without being blubbery fat. He had slight potbelly, combed hair up
in kind of a pompadour.
Jury 8, 1969: second Mageau description: twenty-six to thirty; short, curry,
light brown hair worn in military crew cut; pants had pleats; he wore a
Navy-type windbreaker jacket 5'8"; 195-200 pounds.

Jury 10, 1969: third Mageau description: blue shirt or sweater; 160 pounds.
Man seen arguing with Darlene Ferrin: thirty, 6'; 180-185 pounds; hair the
color of champagne, combed straight back.

September 27, 1969: lone man seen by three girls: twenty-five to thirty-five,
over 6'; 200-230 pounds; no glasses; hair straight and parted. Black-sleeved
sweat shirt, dark blue pants, sports or suit pants, T-shirt hanging out at rear;
nice-looking and clean cut. Chain smoker.

Man, most likely Zodiac, seen quarter mile from Hartnell-Shepard attack
site: white adult male; 5' 10"; heavy build; dark trousers and a long-sleeved
dark shirt with red coloring. Blue windbreaker jacket.

Shepard and Hartnell description: black ceremonial hood with four comers
(like a paper sack) came down over man's shoulders almost to waist.
Stitching around edges, sleeveless with the front and hack panels.
Emblazoned in white on front with 3" X 3" cross over circle. Slits for eyes
and mouth cut into the cloth; a pair of clip-on sunglasses over eye slits.
Dark sleeves were clamped tight about his wrists, trousers tucked tightly
above half boots (probably with blousing rubbers used by the

military). On left side was a bayonetlike knife. Holster on right with blue-
steel .45 semiautomatic. Weight is solid, not flabby; the man's stomach
hung over his trousers or he had puffy air-filled jacket. Several lengths of
common variety white, hollow core plastic clothesline hung at the man's left
side (or in back pocket). Another pair of glasses possibly under hood. Dark
brown, sweaty hair seen through slits. "Could have been a wig," according
to Hartnell. Man wore a lightweight blue-black windbreaker over a reddish-
black wool shirt. The crossed-circle symbol was sewn on very
professionally. Hooded man was 5'10 # to 6'2"; 225-250 pounds. Footprint
size lOVi, compaction test showed 220-weight, boot was chucker type
called the "Wing Walker." Uppers manufactured by Weinbrenner Shoe Co.,
Merill, Wisconsin. Soles are manufactured by Avon, Avon, Massachusetts.
One million shoes manufactured in '66, under government contract; 103,700
pairs shipped to Ogden, Utah, district to Air Force and Navy installations
on West Coast. Hartnell: "He had to be fairly lightweight (without puffed-
up jacket). All the guys the police had me look at were really fairly husky
guys. This guy I think was in his thirties and fairly unremarkable."

OceanofPDF.com
October 11, 1969: heavy build; 5'8"; dark navy-blue or black parka-type
jacket, dark trousers, reddish or blond crew cut, thirty-five to forty years
old; wearing glasses.

Weight is now 200 pounds or more, he is barrel-chested and wearing a navy

blue or black waist-length and zippered jacket. Description of officers
changes composite: Older and heavier, 5' 11 *, thirty-five to forty-five,
short brown hair with red tint, glasses.

March 22,1970: Kathleen Johns Description: a clean-shaven and very

neatly dressed man; "I remember thinking he may have been a serviceman
... he was that kind of clean cut." Shoes spit-shined, dressed in a dark blue-
black nylon windbreaker type of jacket over black woolen bell-bottom
pants. Black thick-rimmed glasses (held in place by elastic band like a
machinist might wear); chin had acne scars; nose not especially small; his
jaw wasn't weak, not a weak person; average brow, crew-cut brown hair.
Ten years later: "The man in my car weighed about 160." White shirt, dead-
pan eyes, navy shoes, general appearance military.

April 19, 1970: (Christopher Edwards/steward P&O liner Oronsay) man

dressed in blue slacks and sweater who claimed to be a British engineer,
looked like composite. Late-model hard-top car at Bay St. and the
Embarcadero.

April 7, 1972: light-colored car swerved at Isobel Watson in Tamal-pais

Valley; 5'9"; wore heavy black-rimmed glasses; neat brown hair.

The clothes of the Zodiac killer point to a military man, most likely from
the Navy or Air Force. The well-made Zodiac black hood had a crossed-
circle design sewn on the front. (In the Navy a proficient skill in sewing is
required.) Hie pleated pants may point to an older man (as do slang words
he uses that have been out of vogue for a quarter century).

Zodiac's Cars

October 30, 1966: car seen; 1947-1952 tan-gray Studebaker with oxidized
paint.
July 4-5, 1969: white Chevrolet impala sedan, 1961-63.

Car similar to 1963 Corvair, "older and bigger, old plates." "May have been
a 1960 Falcon, California plates." Lighter in color than the bronze Corvair
driven by the victim (1963 Bronze Chevrolet Corvair two-door coupe).

Description of man following Darlene Ferrin: American-made sedan, white

with a large windshield.

September 27,1969: lone man seen in silver or ice-blue '66 Chevrolet two-
door sedan, with California plates.

Moulages made of two different-size tires (front), very worn; width

between the wheels was fifty-seven inches.

March 22, 1970. (Johns) late model car, American make, light-colored, two-
door, with old California license plates (black and yellow). Interior of car
was very messy, with papers and clothes strewn about the front and back
seats and even on the dashboard. Mostly men's clothing but mixed in with
small T-shirts with patterns such as a child eight to twelve years old might
wear. Black four-celled flashlight with a rubber grip on dash, along with
two colored plastic scouring pads. "A sporty console-style auto;
transmission gear shift box was between two black bucket seats, a special
built-in cigarette lighter on its right side and an ashtray at the front end."

November 11, 1970, man following woman in Santa Rosa. White

Chevrolet, young twenty-three to twenty-four-year-old man from Val-lejo;
cited but ticket purged from records.

Zoouc's Weapons

Guns

Used at Lake Herman Road: .22 caliber semi-automatic, J C Higgins Model

80 or High Standard Model 101 (ammunition: .22 caliber Super X copper-
coated long rifle).
Used at Blue Rock Springs. Browning 1935 High Power (FN GP35) 9-mm.
Manufactured in Canada. Thirteen rounds (ammunition: 9-mm Winchester
Western).

Used at Lake Berryessa may have shown Colt (1911 Al) to (surviving
victim). Blue steel semiautomatic.

Used at Washington and Cherry, San Francisco, second Browning High

Power used in San Francisco (ammunition: 9-mm Winchester Western).

Knives

Used at Riverside City College: Small knife with blade three and one-half
inches long and one inch wide. Broken tip, piece left in Riverside victim.

Used at Lake Berryessa: foot-long knife, one inch wide, wooden handle
with two brass rivets and one-inch-wide adhesive tape around handle.
Wooden sheath. Sharpened on both sides, rivets replaced guard.

Zoouc's Materials

An enlarger, light table, or overhead projector.

A cipher encoding wheel.

Portable Royal typewriter, elite type, Canterbury shaded.

Handle-type boat flashlight.

Blue felt-tip pens.

Eaton watermark Monarch-cut bond paper; this paper is cut imperfectly and
may be a bulk remainder such as is sold to the military.

Complete news files on the Zodiac case.

A gray metal box (from psychic).

A basement workshop.
Teletype paper, up model 15 teletype. Bomb plans based on the circuitry of
this teleprinter.

Owned boat-type lantern flashlight with handle; may have boat.

Possibly a four-celled black flashlight with rubber grip.

Gloves, worn while writing the letters

Zodiac brand wristwatch.

Timex watch, ripped off at Riverside, 7 inches circumference, black band.

Wing Walker shoes sold only at military outlets.

Portions of Paul Stine's bloody dark-gray-and-white striped shirt, and

Stine's car keys.

Books on cipher and horoscopes.

Polaroid camera.

Hole puncher.

Zodiac's Training

Explosive devices.

Cryptography.

Meteorology.

Charts and terminology used in conjunction with the compass.

Knowledge of Gilbert and Sullivan Mikado, light opera.

Extremely good knowledge of punctuation; fakes poor spelling. Touch-

types.
Knows car engines (distributor cap wire sabotage).

Chemistry (bomb plans).

May have access to computer.

Knows how to cast own horoscope and knows astrology.

Knowledge of ancient cults.

Movie fanatic. Badlands, The Exorcist, The Most Dangerous Game.

Knowledge of disguise. This may relate back to light opera training.

Knew about using glue on fingertips to prevent leaving prints; may have
been in jail where he learned this.

Knows drafting.

Training with guns. Five shots in a tight formation in victim's back from ten
feet away while running.

Police training? Used highway Patrol cut-off technique at Blue Rock

Springs, shone light in eyes of victims. They reached for their I.D.'s because
they thought it was a policeman.

Sews well.

Ambidextrous.

Probably Navy background.

Zodiac's Method or Operation

Kills on weekends, in areas near water, on the full or new moon.

Attacks couples. Uses different weapon each time. Cars usually involved.

Always young students, all at dusk or night; robbery was not a motive.
No sexual molestation. Killer has compulsion to brag after murders by
phone or letter. Kills in lovers' lanes.

Different weapon each time. A flashlight is often used. Killings on a gravel

surface twice, on asphalt twice, on ground once. Three victims killed near
parking lots.

! Psychological Profile of Zodiac

Paranoid delusions of grandeur.

Psychotic.

Sexual sadist: You will find that the Zodiac probably tortured small

i animals as a child, had a domineering mother, weak or absent father,

strong fantasy life, confusion between violence and love. Is the type of

person who would be a police groupie, carry police equipment in his car,

collect weapons and implements of torture.

Calm in a crisis.

Plans carefully. May rehearse crimes. Look for similar attacks in areas
weeks prior.

Enjoys taunting the police.

Secretive and guarded in his dealings with the world.

Very angry that the police tell lies about him. Zodiac is reasonably truthful
in what he writes. The police did stop and talk to him, but denied it.

Crank calls; "Rush to Editor ." Zodiac can hardly wait to contact the police
and tell what he has done. The note to Joseph Bates demonstrated I that he
likes to torment relatives of his victims. The crank calls to the Ferrin family
fit in here as well; he may even know them.
Zodiac is an imitative person, not inventive. Everything he has done he has
seen or found written down somewhere.

Makes sure the woman always dies

Makes phone calls close to police department to be sure and hear sirens
rushing to crime scene.

Plans ahead; cut up clothesline (at Berryessa) beforehand.

Zodiac feels he is persecuted.

Masturbates after each attack and during the writing of the letters.

Zodiac kills at close range because he wants his victims to see him.

Suicide (or an institution) lies at the end for a person like this.

Affected by the moon and tides.

Usually this type is a voyeur and a prowler.

Taunting way of speaking and painful headaches.

An inkblot test on this man would elicit Z shapes and answers.

Will repeat his crimes. The pleasure from taunting the police may in the end
become the real motive for the crimes.

Most often highly intelligent, strong. He is incurable. He feels no remorse.

He will often choose victims with specific occupations (all victims, even
Stine, were students).

He will keep souvenirs. Polaroid photos were taken by Santa Cruz serial
killer Edmund Emil Kemper.

He will stab victim until he achieves orgasm.

Will remember in great detail the particulars of the murders.

Will have a fascination with police work. May have applied for this job.

If like Bundy, Bianchi, etc., may be abnormally strong.

These types are limited or incapable of forming normal adult relationships.

The alternatives are: sex with dead bodies, or killing for sexual satisfaction.
Another alternative is sex with children. Have a need to be powerful.

Homosexuality is not inconsistent.

Often play at execution of themselves as children. Mutilate dolls.

Skillful and charming liars. May even move to a state that has the death
penalty, which they unconsciously desire.

Fantasy of killing mother.

This type of killer will scout out a certain type, even to the point of a
prepared questionnaire to select them (Edmund Emil Kemper did this).

Tney think of the victim as an object.

When writing letters Zodiac was either smoking marijuana, drinking, or

taking some kind of narcotics.

The sexual sadist kills to achieve sexual pleasure. May never have had
sexual intercourse. He seeks dehumanization of his victims into objects that
he can have control over, power over. He takes great pains in appearing
normal and in evading capture.

Sources

Police Investigators' personal case notes and reports, including rough drafts.

San Francisco Police Department, Vallejo Police Department, Napa

Sheriff's Department, Benicia Police Department, Vallejo Sheriff's
Department, Santa Rosa Police Department, and Riverside Police
Department incident reports and files. Included in these reports are ballistics
and crime lab results, autopsy reports, fingerprint comparisons, and suspect
files.

Information was also obtained from two confidential reports from CI&I and
the California State Attorney General's Office ("Zodiac," "Linked
Murders").

In addition to FBI and NSA reports on the Zodiac codes (contained on

computer cryptoanarysis printouts) I made use of a secret psycholinguis-tics
study made of Zodiac's personality as manifested in his letters and prepared
by the Syracuse Research Institute. I also had access to a confidential report
on the psychological makeup of the Riverside murderer.

A hundred hours of taped interviews were made with surviving victims of

the Zodiac killer, relatives and friends of the victims, and major

tects in the investigation. I also spoke with the investigators of each iac
homicide. I was allowed to read and copy letters, notes, journals, address
books of some victims. I studied employment records and phone logs of
some suspects as well as fingerprint files from Washington State and Mare
Island Naval Shipyard.

Academic files from Riverside City College and Hogan High School
yearbooks.

Hypnotic interviews conducted with witnesses.

Suspect letters from Atascadero State Hospital for the criminally insane.

California Department of Motor Vehicles and some insurance records.

Newspaper and television accounts of the Zodiac case, including report-en'

notes, rough drafts, computer files, and unpublished stories.

Composite sketches and police diagrams of murder sites.

Visits to all scenes of the crimes.

CI&I Handwriting reports.

Files on the case that had been discarded. Files on Zodiac taken home as
collector's items.

Anonymous tips from citizens.

The letters from Zodiac.

Selected References

Dickensheet, Dean W., ed. Great Crimes of San Francisco. New York:

Ballantine, 1974. fane's Small Arms of the World. Great Britain. Kahn,
David. The Codebreakers. New York: Macmillan, 1967. Laffin, John.
Codes and Ciphers. New York: Abeiard-Schuman, 1964. Lunde, Donald T.,
M.D. Murder and Madness. New York: W. W.

Norton cV Co., 1979. Oken, Alan. As Above, So Below. New York. Pratt,
Fletcher. Secret and Urgent. New York. Sest, Mann, Flangan, Cowen. The
Phenomenon Book of Calendars.

New York. Simon & Schuster, 1978. Snyder, LeMoyne. Homicide

Investigation. Springfield, Illinois: Charles

C. Thomas Co., 1977.

Index

Aldcrson, Anne Evelyn, 296

Allen, Kim Wendy, 252, 253, 311

Allen, Ron, 16

Ambidexterity, of suspects, 224, 234, 266

American Cryptogram Association, 58,

122, 241-42 American Greeting Cards Company, 120 Anagram, 57-58

Andrews, Donald Jeff, 220n, 220-36, 256, 261, 285-87 and BerneD, 221-
22, 225-26, 232-35 as Donaldson, 300-301 and films, 221, 224-26, 229,
233, 301 movie poster, 222, 228-33 printing and writing samples, 222, 231,
235, 299 Andrews, Oscar, 285 Animal torture, xv, 257-59, 264, 322 Anstey,
Marie Antoinette, 146, 251, 254,

310 Aphelion, 245-46, 248 ARCO Service Station, 136-37, 140 Armstrong.
Inspector Bill, 96-97 and Andrews. 227, 229 quits homicide squad, 197,
308 and Riverside killer, 172 and Stan, 260, 263, 266-67, 270, 285,

289 Srine case, 87-92, 95, 100 and Zodiac, 103-105, 108, 111-112,
114,119,122,156,159-60,176, 181-42, 214 As A&ovf, So Below (Oken),
247 Astrologers, 109, 247

Astrological signs, 132, 246, 316 Astrology, 109; 151, 244-48, 321
Atascadero, 273, 290 Automobiles. See Care Autopsies. 10, 93-98, 165,
180 Autumnal Equinox, 248, 250, 254 Avery, Paul, 104, 158-61, 176, 208
and Andrews, 221-22 Lake Tahoe postcard, 177-78 and Riverside case.
161-73, 308 Zodiac's threat 160, 175 Avon Company, /8, 318 Ayers, Sue, 39

Badlands (film), 195-96, 313, 321

Bailey, F Lee, 114, 116

BaMino, Officer Steve, 16, 189, 191

Balmer, Thomas D., 8

Banks, Leslie, 60

Basement reference. 125, 146, 151, 320

Bates, Chen Jo, 165-74 murder, 165-66, 168-70, 244-45, 309 psychological
profile of killer, 256 Starr and, 289, 301
Bates, Joseph, 164, 166-67, 170

"Bates must die" notes, 170-72

Bauer, Earl, 118

Belli, Melvin, 114-118, 127-29, 198, 313

Bemcia, California, 6-9, 44, 112, 236

Bennauack, Nancy, 250, 310

BerneD, Marvin, 221, 22ln, 225, 227-28, 227-35

Berryessa Lake, 107, 146, 243, 281, 301

murder, 63-40, 132, 230, 254, 309, 323

phone call to police, 75-76

printing on car door, 72, 76-79, 303, 314

stabbing of victims, 71-72, 78

and Starr, 262, 281

weapons, 67-71

witnesses, 78, 190-91 Bianchi, Kenneth, 256-57, 257n, 323 Bidou,

Sergeant, 44 Bilek, Kathy, 180 Bird. Captain Wade, 110 Black hood. 66,
224, 264, 317-318 Blatty, William Peter, 184n Blau, Eva. 251-52, 310
Blue/black felt-tip pens, 127, 143, 151-52, 320

and movie poster, 222, 225, 228, 230-33

and Starr's clipboard note, 281-82

"Blue meanies," 144, 176, 217

"Blue pis," 123 Blue Rock Springs Golf course, 26, 44, 146, 206, 308

murder, 26-33, 38-39, 43, 59, 244, 248, 250. 291-94

and Starr, 192-94 Bob (Ferrin case), 18, 38, 292, 294-95 Bodies:

dumping of, 254-55

positioning of, 250

Toschi theory on, 89 Bomb diagrams, 124-26, 145, 148,

224-25, 268, 313, 321 Bomb threats, 107, 128, 144-45,

147^48, 150-51 Bonine, Detective Sergeant David,

163-64, 167, 171 Borges, Stella, 5, 7, 236, 307 Braun, Donna Marie, 254,
312 British connection, 127-28, 142,

315-316, 318 Brown, Governor Jerry, 214 Browning gun, 38, 70n, 112
Bryant, George, 28 Bullets, 9-11, 38,91,98-99

extraction of, 98

identification of, 10 Bullitt (film), 96 Bundy. 323 Butterbach, Officer, 9-10

Cabdriver murders, 112-113

See also Stine, Paul Lee Caen, Herb, 144, 161, 182, 197. 238-40 Caesar's
Palace Restaurant, 14, 22-23,

34 California Department of Justice, 255,

286, 297-98

California Highway Patrol, 107, 112,

303, 321 California Medical Facility at Vacaviue,

61 Carpenter, David J., 297 Cars, in Zodiac cases, 319 Bates murder, 164-
65, 167-70 Berryessa murder, 63-65, 75-77, 190 Chevrolet, xv, 3-4, 63, 134,
181-82,

224, 319

Ferrin murder, 14-15, 19-20, 22, 24-26, 248, 263, 287, 293-94; Darlene's
Convair, 24-30, 33, 43, 45

Iensen-Faraday murders, 3-7, 294 ohns abduction, 134-36, 138, 140,

152, 156-57 and passenger side, 6, 248-250, 254 and suspects, 134-35, 181-
82, 185-86, 1887281, 301, 304 Central Intelligence Agency (CIA), 50,

55, 122~238 Chaney, Lon, 196, 221 Chase, Richard Trenton, 258 Child
molestation, 259-60, 263, 323

and Starr, 26&-69, 273 Christie, Agatha, 47 CI6VI (Criminal Identification

and

Investigation), 11, 80, 167, 255, 255 n, 307 Questioned Documents Section,
171,

201, 214 and Zodiac, 112, 118, 227 Ciphers, xiiiy xv eleventh letter,
151.155 first three letters, 49-61, 230 ninth letter, 143-44 sixth letter (340-
symbol), 121-22,

238-245, 313 substitution/transposition types,

240-42 and Walker's name, 189 Sec also Cryptograms "Cipher Slayer/' 118,
121, 129, 175 Xity pig cops," 207, 211,217 Clery, Alexandra, 254, 311
Clipboard hand-printed note, 281-82 Cloer, Betty, 254, 310 Clothesline,
Shepard murder, 67, 69-70,

254, 323 ClotW of victims, 10, 12, 30, 43, 45, 294 Sec also Stine, Paul, torn
shirt Clothing, worn by killer, 27-28, 39, 65-64, 66-68, 77-78, 138, 141,

225, 264, 268, 317 Codebreaken, The (Kahn). 59 Codes and Cipher*
(Laffin), 59-60 Code-school training, and killer, 224,
274, 303 Collins, Officer Dave, 75, 77 Composite drawings. 45, 94-95,

107-108, 201, 236, 318

Composite drawings (cont)

and Andrews, 286

DeLouise's vision, 132

and Edwards identification, 142, 318

Haertle's description, 296-97

and Johns identification, 140

and Starr, 262, 279 Confessions, xrv, 168n, 168-72, 258,

279n Connell, Richard, 60 "Copy-cat" killers, 143 "Copy-cat" letters, 158

Coreris, Inspector Cus, 143 Corona, Juan, case, 201 Coronado Inn, 36, 146,
251 Conway, Sergeant, 30-31 Count Zaroff (film character), 60, 230
Crabtree, Rick, 16 Crank calls See Telephone calk Crew-cut hair style, 28,
59, 91, 95, 234,

272, 303, 317 Crime labs, 112-113

and fingerprints, 99-100, 104, 210

Stine case, 90-92, 93. 97 Crime scenes, 8-9, 87-90, 112, 291 Criminal
Identification and Investigation

Bureau. See CIdrl Cross, Captain Irv, 162-64, 167, 171-73 Crossed circle
symbol, xv, 47, 101, 112, 121, 126, 159 224, 231

on black hood, Berryessa, xv, 66, 68, 72, 317-318

meaning of, 248 Cruz, Ed, 38 Cryptograms, xv, 46, 50-51, 121-22,

decoding of, 50, 55, 121 Cryptography, 52, 198, 236, 321 Cults, 42, 60, 321
Dagitt Bob, 90, 92-93, 100, 104, 264,

Davis, Angela, case, 201

Davis, Carolyn Nadinc, 253, 255, 312

Davis, Elaine, 128, 310

DeAmicis, Deputy Chief Clement D.,

209-211,215,307 Deasy, Inspector fames, 211, 297 DeGarmo, David, 214,

216, 222-23,

228, 282 Del Buono, Linda, 17-18, 37, 41-43,

189, 287 and composite drawing, 45, 291-92 DeLouise, Joseph, 130-33,
149 Derrick, Lynn, 311 Denyberry, Doris, 312 Desk-top poem (Bates case),
170-73, 314 Dick Tracy comic strip, 118-119 Dados, 264 Dirty Harry
(film), 179-80

Donaldson, Andrew, 300. See alto Andrews, Don

Door handle (Ferrin case), 27, 43, 45

Douglas, Mayor Florence E., 148-49

Doyle, Arthur Conan, 47

Drugs, 254 Darlene Ferrin and, 18, 21-22, 42-43 and paranoid
schizophrenic, 257n Zodiac letters and, 243, 324

Dudley, Linda, 254, 311

Dunbar, Jim, 114, 116-117

Duncan, Mike, 208

Dye, Susan, 254, 269, 311

Eastwood, Clint, 179

Edwards, Christopher, 142, 318

Eisen, Jay, 16

EDison, Cosettc, 251, 310

El Spectre Rojo (film), 231

Emmet, Robert, 58

Enlarger, photographic, 218, 270, 320

Exorcist, The (film), 183-84, 183n, 184

n, 321 Exorcist letter, 183-84, 216, 253 Explosives. See Bomb diagrams
Eyeglasses, worn by Zodiac, 27, 67 worn with band, 138, 224, 234,

286

Fairfield, California, 205 Fairfield Daily Republic, 8 Falzon, Officer Frank,

208 Faraday, David Arthur, 1-11, 13, 40, 250, 309. See also Jensen-Faraday
murders FBI, 55, 112, 167, 198-99,238 Fechtei, Cathy, 254, 312 Federal
Gun Control Act (1968), I23n Feinstein, Dianne, 216 Felt-tip pens See
Blue/black felt-tip

pens Ferdon, John J, 117 Ferrin, Arthur, 32 Ferrin, Darlene, 149, 206, 288,
307 anonymous calk, 32-35, 56, 292-94,

322 babysitters' accounts, 14-15, 40,

199-201 background and personality, 13,

20-21, 30-31, 35-37, 4M4, 294 ex-husband, 16, 22, 45 4th of July events,
22-27 man from Mexico, "Bob," 15-16, 38,

292 Mike's accounts, 31, 39-41, 317 murder of, 27-33, 39, 309 painting
party, 16-18, 43, 189, 291,
"Paul" and, 16, 36-38, 43-44 and Shepard. 287, 294

Ferrin (cont) and stranger, 14-20, 22, 39, 41-43,

199-201, 287, 294, 317 suspects, 41, 186, 184, 189n, 191,

236-37, 287, 301, 317 Zodiac letters and, 46, 48-49, 56-52 Ferrin, Dean, 14,
17, 20, 22-23, 32-37,

41^3, 280, 293-94, 308 Feirin, Dena, 14, 20, 25, 33, 41 Feusi, Nancy. 312
"Fiddle and fart around" phrase, 176,

176n, 316 Films: classic silent, 224, 227, 231 233 301 evidence in canisters,
221, 225, 229,

232-33 about Zodiac, 179-80, 184n Zodiac and, 60, 18344, 198, 230-31,

256, 321 See also titles of films Fingerprints, 99-100, 167. 297 Moody
fingertips, 91, 99-100, 286 cabdriver murders, 112-113 due on fingertips,
123, 321 latent, 90 Stine case, 90-91, 99-100, 123, 267,

298 suspects and, 191-93, 226, 237, 267,

286,298 on Zodiac's letters, 104, 210 See also Prints Fisher, Carol, 101-103
Flashlight, 26-27, 31, 57, 248, 273, 303,

320-21, 322 Fong, Gary, 282 Forget Me Not cards, 120 Fonest Pines condo
village, 177 Fotinos, Inspector John, 143 Foukes, Patrolman Donald, 85,
107 Fourth of Jury murder. See Ferrin,

Dariene Fran* Valley Road, 252-53, 279-SO Friday the Thirteenth victims,
251 Furlong, Deborah Cay, 119-20, 180

Cain, Chief Charles, 211, 213-217, 307 ''Came:' man hunted as, 54-55, 60,
169

and Stan, 262, 273, 286, 286n, 289 Gibson Card Company, 160 GKfley,
Nancy Patricia, 251, 312 Gilbert and Sullivan operas, 153, 155-56,
184,205,224.316,321 Curnore, Sue, 38, 292 Gold earrings, 252

Golden Gate Park police bombing, 145 Golden Gate Theater, 179, 212
Gordon, Howard "Buzz," 16, 36 Gray metal box. 3047320 Greg (Penny's
friend), 220-21, 225 C»n dealers, 113-114

Gun laws, 114, 123n Guns:

Ben y cjsa murder. 67, 70n, 320

Ferrin murder, 33, 38, 320

Jensen-Faraday murders, 9, 11-12, 290,320

Radetich murder, 150

Stine muTder, 83-84, 90-91, 94, 112, 320

belonging to Toschi, 96

Zodiac training with, 321

See also Knives

Haertle, Steven Russell, 296 Halloween card, 158-61, 246 Halloween

murder. See Bates, Cheri Jo Handprinting, 48, 104-105, 119, 171-72, 195

on RCC Library desk top, 170-73

on Starr's clipboard, 281-83

and suspects, 193, 228-30, 233, 235, 299

and Toschi, 216

Zodiac and, 223, 225, 233, 299, 314-315

Zodiac's technique and procedure, 218-219

See also Morrill, Sherwood, handprinting reports Handwriting checks:

Andrews, 235, 299

Stan. 267

Toschi, 214

Zodiac, 113-114,201,212-213, 216-217, 219, 222-223, 298-99 Hansen,

Ellen Marie, 296 Hansen, Tom, 212 Hansen, Walter, 285-86, 300 Harden,
Donald Gene and Bettye June,

51-55, 57-58, 238-39, 241, 245 Hardy, Oliver, 301 Harris, Christopher, 132,
149 HartneJl, Bryan, 62-75, 80, 117-118, 176, 190, 280, 308

and car door printing, 72, 76-79, 314

description of killer, 64-68, 70, 77, 264, 317-318 Harvest Moon, 245
Hauser, Dr John E., 120 Haynes, Lt Larry, 200 Highway 101, 252-53, 279
Hikan, Judith Ann. 250, 310 HObum, Carol Beth, 251, 310 Hillside
Strangler killings, 256, 257n Hinckle. Warren, 215 Hitchhiker murders,
252-54, 258, 269 Hoffman, Richard, 16, 30, 32 Hogan High School, 13, 25
Holidays, 244 Homophone ciphers, 242

Homosexuality, 323

Hoppe, Art, 243

Horan, Coroner Din, 8, 11, 307

Horoscopes, 247, 321

Howenstein, Sheriff Al, 295

Hoyer, Alex, 246

Hunting of men. See "Came"

Husted, Lt. James. 200-201, 223-24,

233, 261, 287. 308 and Starr, 275-76, 278, 290, 295 Hyman, Al, 47
Hypnosis of witnesses, 200-201, 261,

279

Ink blot test, 270, 323 Informational time charts (PERT

Charts). 286 International Greetings Company, 147

"Jack" (Ferrin murder suspect), 41,

236-37 lack the Ripper, xni, 47-48 Jennings, Duffy, 179, 208, 210, 212
Jensen, Betty Lou, 1-11, 13, 25, 40, 309 Jensen-Faraday murders, 5-11, 26,
46,

132, 205-206, 244-45, 248, 250 Jensen, Verne, 3 "Jesters" greeting card,
120-21 JFK Information Center, VaDejo, 59 JoAnn (Donna Lass
roommate), 178-79 John inglis Co., 38 Johns, Kathleen, 135-41, 146, 157n,

244-45, 310 description of car 138. 319 description and identification of

Zodiac, 135, 137-39, 14<M1, 286,

318 disappearance of, 157, 261, 279 Zodiac letters and, 156-57 Johnson,
Tom, 110 Jolly Roger greeting card, 147 Jones, Bob, 179 Jordan, Lt. Jack,
297 Julius Kahn Public Playground, 86,

91-92

Kahn, David, 59

Kamahde. Jeannette. 253, 311

Kane, Edda, 2%

Kanes, Lynda, 176-77, 310

Karen (Ferrin babysitter), 14-16,

199-201 Kate (Toschi's secretary), 264 Kemper, Edmund Emil, 257, 323
Kennedy, Senator Edward M., 130 KCO-TV talk show, 114-117 Kindred,
Deputy, 91 King. Patricia, 251, 310

Kirkindal, Bill, 90, 92 Knives:

Bates murder, 166, 320

Berryessa murder. 69, 71, 78, 230, 262, 320 Ko-Ko, Lord High
Executioner, 153,

155-56, 184 r 205 Kopechne, Mary Jo, 130 Kracke, Inspector Walter, 86-87
Kressin, Bud, 131 KRON-TV, 118 Kursa, Lori Lee, 253, 254, 311

Laffin, John, 59 Lake County, California, 146 Lake Herman Road, 25, 29-
30, 208, 236, 307

crime scene, 8-10, 205-206, 291, 294

and film, 225, 232

Jensen-Faraday murders, 4-7, 13, 40, 146, 157a 248-50, 304 Lamplighters,
The, 156 Land, Ranger Dennis, 73-74, 79 Land, Deputy Ray, 75 Lane,
Vakrie, 312

Lanterman-Petris-Short Act (1967), 259n Lass, Donna, 177-78, 224, 250,

310 Latent prints, 90, 104, 113, 297 Launtzen, Chief Ray, 178 Lee, Coroner
John, 97 Lee, Captain Marty, 103-104, 109-110,

113-115, 127 Legion (film), 184n Leigh, Bill and Carmda, 14, 20, 22, 23,

34-36, 45, 308 Letters, from Zodiac, 251, 266, 313

and anniversaries, 157n

cessation of, 269, 289

drug influence, 243, 324

forgery charges, 215-217

and masturbation, 213, 323

postage, 45, 53n, 120, 143, 155, 170, 175, 207-208, 269

Starr's printing compared, 266-67

technioue used, 218-219, 267

chronological list:

1st, 2nd, 3rd-45-46, 48-49; decoding of, 50-55

4th—Zodiac name and anagram idea, 56-58

5th—Stine killing, 101-103, 105, 119

6th—greeting card and 340-symbol cipher, 120-22, 238-44

7th—seven-page diatribe, and bomb plan, 122-26

8th—to Belli, 127

9th—new bomb diagram, 143-45

10th—dragon erecting card, 146-48

11th—Mt. Diablo, 150

12th—K. Johns, 151-52

Letters fcont) 13th—Mikado «i 152-55 14th—"pace n not dower" and croai

m blood, 152-58 15th—threatens Avery, 158-60 16th—to LA 7imea, 175-

76 17th—Lake Tahoe and "pines,"

177-78, 189 18th—fxoiriat, 183-84, 216, 253 19th— Badlands card, 195-
96, 199 20th—"Red Phantom," 196, 230 21*—"back with you," 207-217
LeVey, Anton, 60

Lividity, post-mortem, 93-94

Lord High Executioner See Ko-Ko

Los Angeles, California, 257n P.D., 200, 285

Los Angeles Ttmtt, 61, 74, 175-76

Lowe. Barbara, 9

Lundbbd, Detective Sergeant Les, 8-11, 40, 186, 303, 307 name in cipher,
240 Shepard case, 80

Lunde, Dr Donald T, 256-260

Lynch, Sergeant John, 22-23, 162, 288 Ferrin murder, 29-32, 37-41, 43-45
letters, 50, 55, 58 Shepard murder, 80 and Starr, 294-95 and Walker, 189

Lynch, Susan, 310

Lynch, Attorney General Thomas C, li<U12

Lynne, Janet, 24-25, 35, 40-41, 306

McDonnell, Sergeant Brian, 145 McKee, Lois, 37 McKenzie, Bob, 78

McLaughlin, Susan, 254, 311 McQueen, Steve, 96 Macro, Tom, 94

Mageau, David, 16, 22-23, 28, 41 Mageau, Mike, 41, 44-45, 206, 294,
308,3 09 clothing worn, 30, 43. 45 and Darlene, 16, 22-23, 36-37, 40 night
of attack, 24-30, 42-43, 248, 250,292

i of killer, 27-28, 31,39,

y, *8-39 Mageau parents, 23, 38, 41, 44-45 Matey, Kenneth, 213, 216 Mare
Island Naval Shipyard, 23, 59 Marin County, California, 112, 295-96
Marsh, Dr D C B 58, 122 Martin, Qeophus, 166 Mass bDerrS« Serial killers
Masturbation, 212-213, 25. Matthews, Teresa, 269, 312

Maupm, Armistead, 213, 215-216, 307

May, Shauna, 296

Meften, Creg. 241-42

Mental illness, 80, 259, 302

Merchant, Brenda, 312

Meteorology, 159,321

Mikado, 7V 153, 155-56, 184, 205,

321 Miron, Dr. Murray S., 198 Mr Eds Restaurant and Drive-In, 4, 39,

42 Modesto Bee, 157 "Monarch-size" bond paper, 202-203,

320 Monotone voice. See Speech patterns Moon, phases of, 244-48, 322-23
Morebnd, Cynthia, 296 Morrill, Rose, 222-23 Morrill, Sherwood, 201, 216

and Andrews, 222-24, 227-30, 235, 2$9

handprinting reports, 105, 178, 201-202, 219, 297, 299

Riverside letters, 171-72, 172n, 174

and Starr, 266-67, 281-83, 288-89

and Toschi, 197, 214 Moses, Ken, 210

Moskowitc Comers General Store. 190 Most Dangerous Game, The (film),
60,

230, 232, 321 Mother fantasies, 322-23 Motorc y c l e gangs, 251 Mt

Diablo map, 150-51,155,313 Movie poster printing, 222, 225, 228,
230-33, 299 Movies. See Films; titles of films Mubnax, Detective Sergeant
Jack, 45,

113,262,28^-89,291 Murders, unsolved, 250-55

See also Zodiac, murders and murder attempts Murder weapons, 248, 322

See also Guns, Knives Murphy, Chief Corneous P., II, 307 Murphy, Captain
Vince, 205

Napa, California, 76, 80, 114, 292 Napa Aero Club, 107 Napa Police
Department, 75-76, 78, 107, 109-111, 132, 182, 220, 286

Riverside Napa Valley Ui

School District, 106

Nariow, Detective Sergeant Kenneth.

76-78, 80, 104. 168, 173, 182, *02 and Andrews, 220, 223-26, 229, 235,

261, 285-87, 300 National Security Agency (NSA), 50, 55,

122,238 Naval Intelligence, 50, 55, 112 Ndder, Chief Al, 126, 146-48, 161

Nevada, 177, 511 Nwobi, Md, 80, 173, 286 NinTrydnn, 104, 210 Nitrate
fflm, in canister, 221, 225, 229, 232-33

Oikland Ponce Department, 114

Oakland Tribune 213

CyCormeD, Diane, 296

Occult, 42, 236. 255

OTtefi, Laura, 312

Ohng. Linda, 254, 311

Oken, Alan, 247^8

Obon, Evelyn, 37

Oregon, 25$

Oxnam, Bobbie, 16, 19-20, 43

Pacific Union College (PUC), 62, 78,

176-77, 280 Palo Alto Timet, 106 Paranoid schisophrenics, 257, 257n, 259,

303 Parker, Brant, 208 Parking lots, 26, 188. 322 Parole Omcer, of Bob
Starr, 269-73.

275-76 Pascoc, Terry. 216-217 Pathe Freres Orn, 231 Paul, the bartender
(renin case), 16,

36-37, 43^4 Peck, Temp, 47 Peda, Officer Frank, 86 Pelusetti, Omcer

Aiinaud, 86 Ptony, Waiaoe . 223-3 3, 299 'Phantom or Cordelia, 304
Phantom of the Open, The (fflm), 196 PMhpi, Jim, 16, 22,45 Phfips map,
150-51, 313 O iotpfiapby, 218-219, 225, 232, 235 Picture ofDorisn Gray
(Wilde), 48 Pimentd Ron, 212 Pitta, Captain D a n sd, 7-9 Poisoning, with
strychnine, 253, 255,

280 Pbe, Edgar Allan, 47, 122 Ponce and sexual sadist, 258, 322 and
Zodiac, n>, 124, 316, 322-23 Popp, B ob, Y63 Postage stamps, on letters.
See Letters,

from Zodiac, postagr Postal Inspectors, U^7Tl2 Postal Service Crime Lab,
San Bruno,

209 Pratt Fletcher, 52 Presidio ft^n*. 85-86, 91-93, 109,

75-76, 166, 191-92, 286

Prints (cont)

shoe/foot, 9, 77-78, 166

See d$o Fi ngerprints Projector, 218, 320 Prouty, Robert, 217, 296-99
Psychiatric testing, on Stan, 270, 275 Psycholincutstic report on Zodiac,

Psychological profile of Zodiac, 61, 110, 176, 256-60, 322-325

QuiUntang. Yvonne. 254, 311

Radebch, Omcer, Richard, 150 Ramos, Bobbie, 13-14, 16, 19-21, 23-24,
36-38, 43, 292

and Walker identification, 189n, 287 Rancho Montoceflo Resort 73-74

Randol, Sheriff Earl, 177 "Red Phantom," 196. 230 Reed, Hal, 179
Rhmehart, Mary Roberts, 47 Rhodes, |ane, 24 a tgor mortis, 93 Rrvera,
Carmen, 312 Rrvensde, California, 161-62, 178, 256, 279

Andrews in, 287, 300

Bates murder, 161-67, 176, 268, 301. 3 09

confession letter, 167 -c9

desk-top writing. 170-71.314

Starr m, 288

Zodiac wnhngs, 163, 16&-71, 314 Riverside Crty Coftege (ROC), 164-68,
173

Starr at, 289-90 The Rrvensde Connection, 161-62,

m, 175, 308 Riverside Police Department, 163-6/,

173 Riftntdt Press-enterprise, 170 Robbery, 40. 248

Roberts. Leona Larefl. 252, 254, 310 Robtnson, Andy, 180 Rosenbanm,
Jack, 220 Roper Detective Agency, 212 Rust, Sergeant Ed., 29-32, 36, 39,
41.

44^45,288.308 Rykoff. Dr Thomas, 275-76, 304

Sacramento, California, 171, 173, 297,

311 Sadistic sociopath*: tollers. Sec Sexual

St. Helena, California, 107, 177 Salem, Robert, 143 Sanford, Dr Byron, 8

San Francisco, California. 142, 178-79, 205-207, 226. 234/242, I*, 310-
312. Sm also Stine, Paul Lee San Francisco Police Department (SFPD),
142. 144, 173, 178, 203-204, 286, 297, 307 Armstrong and Totchi, 96-97
and Mornh, 214, 228 publishing of letters, 156 and Starr, 264, 267, 298
Stine case, 85-93, 95-96, 100,

107-108, 112-113, 133, 183-84 Totchi forgery charee, 209-218 Zodiac

seminar, 111-113 Zodiac squad, 102-105, 109-110, 117, 121, 126, 146-48,
150, 158-61, 181-84, 196-97 Zodiac taunting of, 102, 109, 123-24, 144,176,
184,193, 207 San Francisco CfcrorucZe, 118, 128-29, 215, 222, 243 ZooWi
letters to, xm, 45, 47-50, 53 n, 55,101-105,119-26,143^6, 150-55, 156n,
157.171.182-83, 195-96. 206, 208, 210, 212, 314; list of, 313; tuning of,
245-46. 5t* also Avery, Pad San Francisco Examiner, 49, 51, 53n, 203, 216
cipher challenge to, 122 message to Zodiac, 111 San Francisco Progress,
220 Dan rrancjsoo ruooc Ljorary, ou San lose murders, 119-20, 126 San
Mateo, California, 112 "San Quentm Set" case. 201 San Rafael, California,
263 Santa Clara, California, 180 Santa Cruz Ponce Department, 296 Santa
Rota, California, 134,148, 251, 319 and Starr, 262-62, 268-69, 298
unsolved murders, 252—54, 269, 278-79.285,311-312 Santa Rosa jun ior
College, 255, 279 Saturn symbol, 245-46 ScaBey, Harfcy, 24, 37

^-l.-*-~lt i - * * - LOO

dcniaopnrcnia, p a cu ooreacove, rfo School bus attack threats, 102-103,

105-106.109,114.147-48 Stan and, 263 St* also Bomb diagrams; Bomb
threats Schoolteacher in VacaviBe, anonymous

cals/letters, 187-88 Schukx, Deputy, 91 Scnwartx, Barbara, Z96 Secret and

Urmmt (Pratt), 52 Seminar, on Zornac, 111-113 Serial kifcers, xrr, 244, 257
Sex: Andrews and, 224

Sex (cont)
Zodiac and, xrv, 61. 78. 80. 199. 213. 25*-59 303 322-24

See also Sexual sadists Sex crimes, xrv, 253-54, 295 Sexual molestation,
40, 146 Sexual sadists, xrv-xv, 257-60

handwriting of, and stress, 267

and police baiting, 258, 322-23

and power, 260324

and Zodiac, 322-24 Sewing proficiency, 66, 224, 318, 321 Shane, Michael,
254, 312 Sheila (Starr's nster-in-law), 262, 275-76,

279 Shepard, Cecelia Ann, 190-91, 244-45, 308

background, 62-63, 173, 280

Darlene and, 287, 294

HartneD's account of stabbing. 71-72

murder of, 65-76, 80. 177, 3W Shimoda, John, 209-210, 214, 216, 307
Shirai, Dr. S., 10 Shrum, Officer, 33 Sickest, Walter, 47-48 Sierra Club,
177, 190 Silver, Jim, 260

Sbight, Officer David, 75,117-118 "Slaves," 55, 60-61, 122, 126, 152, 176,

243, 248, 315 Slover, Nancy, 29, 32-33, 117-118

and Zodiac voice print, 291 Slues, found at crime scenes:

renin case, 32, 38

Jensen case, 10

Stine case, 91, 93, 113 Smith, Arlo, 112 Smith, Dave, 74
Smith and Wesson Company, 38 Snooay, Kathy, 119-20,180 Solano County,
California, 8-9, 19, 77,

104,286 Solstice, Summer, 245, 254 Solstice, Winter, 245, 248, 252, 253,
254 Son of Sam, xm, 271 Sonoma County California, 253, 263 Soy sauce
barrel, 252 Sparks, John, 32, 39 Speech patterns, of Zodiac, 29, 32-33,

67, 70, 139,141, 315 Spmeffi, Count Marco, 196 Spring Equinox, 248
Stabbing murders:

Bates, 165-66, 169-70

San Jose, 119-20

Shepard, 71-72 Stack, Peter, 103 Stanford University, 60 Starr family, 262-
63. 268, 276, 290

Saa also Starr, Robert "Bob" Hal, and mother

Stan, Robert "Bob" Hall, 260-79, 264n Mub and, 264, 269, 271,275
DuiyuM case and, 262 can owned by, 278, 281, 290-91, 295 child
molestation conviction, 262-63,

266-69, 273 Ferrin case and, 263, 287, 291-93 handprinting and, 266-67.
281-83,

28S-89 handwriting sample, 267-68 hunting friends. 273. 286. 286n. 289
banting of "man as game," 261

286 lob as salesman, 270-72. 277, 283-84,

288, 291, 105 and mother. 261-63. 268. 272. 276.

291 Mutanax and Toschi on. 276. 288-91 parole officer report, 269-71
physical appearance, 262. 265. 271-72.

psychiatric testing and, 275 at Riverside College, 28&-290 and Santa Rosa
murders, 277-78 search win* and, 263-67, 289 as suspect 260-61, 288-89.
294-95,
29^-99, 301, 304-305 timetable compared with Zodiac

killings, 269 oachi Tetter, 260-61

Toschi 1

and trailers, 264-65. 268, 278

voice of. 263. 270, 277, 304

Zodiac claims, 274-75. 279, 286, 288. 299,304 Sterling, Maureen L, 252-
53, 311 Stfltz, Chief Jack E , 50. 55 Stine, Cbudtt, 93, 113 Seme, Paul Lee,
156, 179, 193, 205, 248-51. 270, 299, 107. 323

autopsy and wound, 89-91, 91-94,

background, 99

crime scene, 88, 91-92

dog unit search of Presidio, 87, 91-92, 109

murder of, 82-87, 244, 310

torn shirt, 85, 104, 119, 127, 145. 181, 193, 225, 264, 301. 321

witnesses, 84-85, 94-95, 194 Stowers, Richard, 296 Strangling murders,

251-55, 280 Stress Management Hypnosis Institute,

261 Student victims, 248, 255, 258, 322-23 Substitution ciphers, 240-41
Suennen, Christina. 22-24, 41, 43 Suennen, Leo (Darlene's brother), 16
Suennen, Pam, 15, 17, 19. 22, 39,

42-43, 189n, 104 Suennen parents, 18, 14,19, 41 Suicide, 194-99. 257a,
101, 121

Suspects, im, xv. 11, 146, 295-96 Andrews, 220-29, 212. 261, 100-101 in
Bates murder, 167, 171-74 Bemefl, 213 in Femn murder, 16, 15, 16-3". 41,
43-44, 216, 17, 292. 294 Hams. 149

in Lass disappearance, 178 Penny, 221, 228-29 m Raynes murder, 177

Walker, 184-87, 224. See also Starr. Robert "Bob" Hall, as

SweetjETRov. 92

Sydne (Darlenes friend), 17

Svmbols astrological, 245-46, 116 Berryessa killer and, 66, 68, 80 Chinese
characters, 252-51 in letters, 46-55, 144, 151, 151. 155,

158. 159, 181 meteorological, 159 340^boTapher, 121-22, 218-41.

24?, 276 Taurus sign, 246, 116 on Walker's house, 193-94 See also Crossed
circle symbol

Syracuse Research Institute, 196

Tahoe, Lake. 177-79, 250 Tate, Sharon, murders. 111 'Tattooing" of skin, 94
Taurus symbol, 246, 116 Tedesco, Inspector, 211, 228 Teenagers

Femn crime scene, 29, 41

Stine murder witnesses, 84-85, 94-95, 194,235,296 Telephone calk, and

Zodiac. 323

Berryessa case 75

breathing sound, 187, 234, 269

crank, to Ferrin family, 34, 280, 29V-94

to Pah Alto Times, 106

to Vaflejo PD, 32-33, 41, 291-94 Teletype paper (TTS), 202, 225. 320
Teletype machine, 221, 225, 320 Terracina, 166 Terry's Restaurant, 37, 306

Darlenes job, 15, 18, 20, 24

and Paul, 43^4

and stranger, 17-19, 39, 41^42, 45

and Walker, 189. 191 Texas, Lubbock County, 176n, 316 Theiriot, Charles
deYoung, 47 Thomas, Angela, 311 Triompson, Dr Leontj, 110 Thunderbird
Films, 211 Times watches, 86, 166, 121 Tire-tracka, 77

Toschi, Carol, 88, 96, 215 Toschi. Homicide Detective Dave, 96, 179-82,
203, 207, 237, 248, 255, 297-98 and Andrews, 222 227, 229, 287 on
cabdriver murders, 112-113 forgery charge*. 215-218 Halloween card and,
159-60 01 health, 197-98, 299-300, 308 and Kathleen Johns. 140 name in
cipher, 240, 244 and schoolbus threat, 103-106, 126 and Stan. 260, 263-67,
269-70, 276,

285, 288-90 and Stine murder, 87-92, 95, 100,

112-113 transfer from homicide, 213 writing of self-praise letters, 214

Zodiac letters and. 111. 114, 119-20, 122, 145-56, 156, 158, 176, 183-
84,195,208-211 Townsend, Captain Don, 78, 80, 104 Tracy comic strip,
118-119 'Traflside KflkC 295-97 Tran spos iti on ciphers, 24<M2
TurkeLDr. Henry. 104 Turiock Journal 99 Two-county technique, 268 Two
murderers theory, 228 Typewriters, 167-68, 172, 172n, 260, 320

"Unsolved Female Homicides, An Analysis of a Series of Related Murders

in California and Western America," 255n

VacaviBe, California, 187-48 VaBebT&tffornia, 1. 3-4, 47, 76-77, 134, 205,

223, 235, 304, 308 Anstey murder, 146 and killer, 80, 250. 286-87 and Stan.
260, 262-63, 268, 273-74. Sat also VaDejo Police Department (VPD)
VaDek) Police Department (VPD), 16,

and DeLouise, 132-33

Ferrin case, 29-45, 149, 186, 200,

292-94 Jenscn-Farraday murders, 7—12 andSFPD, 109, 112 and Stan, 261,
270, 281, 283, 290 voiceprint of killer, 291, 308 and Zodiac, 50,61,76, 110
ValUh Twm-Htrald, 49-51, 53n, 131,

Vasques, Rosa, 311

Vernal Equinox, 245, 248, 250-52, 254

Victims, xiu-xrv, 158, 183-84

commonalities found among, 248, 323

list of, 309-312

San Jose girls, 119-20

linked, in Santa Rosa, 252-55, 269, 278-«0

of sexual sadist. 258

of Trailside Killer, 295-96

and Zodiac M.O., 250-51, 322 Virgin Islands, 18. 22, 42 Voiceprint of
Zodiac, 291, 308 Voodoo, 42

Walker, Andrew Todd, xv, 185-94, 287 Walsh, Therese Diane, 253-54, 312
Waltz, Eugene, 242 Warner, Officer William T, 7, 9 Warner, Karl F, 180-41
Warner Brothers, 179 Washington (State), 255 Washington High School,
251 Washington Street, San Francisco, 83,

88, 146, 251 Water, as murder location, 79, 81, 128,

146, 248, 254, 269, 322 Waterman, Officer, 9-10 Watson, Isobel, 181-82
Webern, Yvonne L, 252-53, 311 Weekends, 113 141 146, 248, 254, 322
Weinbrenner Snoe Company, 78, 318 Wesher, Bingo, 4

White, Ranger Sergeant William, 73-74 Wide Flange Beam (symbol), 160
Wilde, Oscar, 47-48 Wilson, Deputy J R, 9 Wilson, Scraeant Ralph, 205-
206, 206,

Wing Walker shoes, 77-78, 186, 303,

318, 321 Wisman, Fred, 263 Witchcraft, xv, 42, 193-94, 255 Witnesses, xin-
xv, 12,88 and Andrews, 235 in Bates murder, 164-65, 167 in Ferrin murder,
unidentified black

man, 33, 56. 293 in Stine case, 8«5,94-96, 194, 235,

298 of Trailside Killer. 296 identification of Walker, 190-91 Woodward,

Keith L, 217

Yellow Cab, 87, 90, 92-93, 99 "Yellow Submarine" (film) 316 Your, Peggie
and Homer, 5

Zebra killings, 184

Zehns, Patrolman Eric, 85, 107, 307

Zodiac, ambidexterity of, 233, 322 author's speculation on, 302-305 Belli
assessment of, 129 boasts, 81, 127, 176, 199 British connection, 128, 142,
315-316,

318 dothmc worn^, rv, 27, 39, 63-64,

66-3, 72, 77-78, 138, 225, 268,

317-318 descriptions of, 27-28, 31, 39, 59,

66-68, 77, 95, 107-108, 135,

137-41,286,317-319 DeLouise vision of, 131-32 face of, 27, 138, 199,234-
35 film contest and, 212-213 films about, 179-80, 184n knowledge of
identific a tion techniques,

123, 167-48, 321 materials used, 320-21. See also

names of specific items, i.e.,

flashlight, p r o tec to r ulitary (Nav "

military (Navy) co n nection, 27, 59, 66, 77-78, 95, 166, 186, 225, 254, 303,
319

and movies, 184, 196, 230-32, 256, 321

murders and murder attempts, xiti, 309-312, evidence on film, 221, 229,
232; Friday the Thirteenth, 251, holidays, 244; patterns and

trademarks, 80-81, 141, 146, 169,

248, 250, 254, 322; PERT charts

on, 286, solstice and lunar phases,

244-48. 250-53 murder weapons, 320 See also Guns;

Knives phrasing of, 127. 176, 176n, 315-316 and pouce, xrv, 124, 258, 316,
322-23 police assessment of. 109-110. 127 psychiatric profile, 61, 110, 176,

195-99, 256-60, 322-24 and publicity, 147-48, 156, 169, 183 sex and
women, xrv, 61, 78, 181, 199,

213, 258-59, 322-24 speech patterns, 29, 32-33, 67, 70,

139,141,315 stocky physical appearance, 28, 64-68,

70, 82-84, 91, 152, 199, 234, 277,

317, 318, 323 and suicide, 199, 303, 323 and training. 321-22 See also
Cars, in Zodiac cases,

Ciphers, Composite drawings;

Letters, from Zodiac, names of

murder victims; names of suspects,

Sexual sadists Zodiac alphabet, 59 Zodiac buttons, 147-48, 150, 152 Zodiac
Club, 251 Zodiac watch, 265, 321 Zygomatic arch, 84, 270
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