The Cases That Haunt Us (34 page)

It is worth noting, too, that the
UNSUB
didn’t go on a killing rampage the weekend the letters were received, despite the fact that the
SanFrancisco Examiner
missed the Friday publication deadline, publishing their section of the cryptogram on Sunday. This doesn’t surprise me. The Unabomber threatened to blow up an airliner out of Los Angeles over a holiday weekend. He didn’t actually do it, but reveled in the attention and fear it generated. Another thing that’s better to this subject than getting his rocks off with a girl is watching the public, police, and media sit in fear, waiting for him to do something. Every girl unattainable to him knew of his threat; all the guys who got those girls heard about him on the news; law enforcement from all over the country worked all weekend trying to crack his code. That was exciting to him. That was real power.

Finally, there was the matter of the leftover letters at the end of the cryptogram. When the solution was published, the public rushed to interpret the last line as an anagram for the author’s name. Police followed up as names emerged, but as you might imagine, were unable to find a suspect this way.

In the meantime, Vallejo chief of police Jack E. Stiltz went public expressing doubts that the letters and cryptogram were even from the real killer. Although they contained information that had not been released, someone who’d seen the crime scenes would have been able to write them. Stiltz publicly asked the
UNSUB
to send another letter with even more details that only the killer would know. His challenge worked, yielding not only a letter, but an identity of sorts: the elusive subject gave himself a name that would soon become synonymous with terror in the northern-California region—the Zodiac. Despite the allure and “sexiness” of this appellation, the
UNSUB
never really explained why or how he’d chosen it. One would expect some sort of mystical, astrological connection. In none of the subject’s future communications was this convincing, although Robert Graysmith uncovered a “Zodiac alphabet” dating back to the thirteenth century. The twentieth-century Zodiac may have copied and/or modified some of the symbols in that alphabet to use in his coded message.

The three-page letter was sent to the
Vallejo Times-Herald
just days after Stiltz’s request. It began:

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 … ?

The whimsical, quasi-helpful tone of the opening of the letter underscores the UNSUB’s delight in mocking the police. Many people likened the Zodiac’s taunting letters to Jack the Ripper’s “Dear Boss” communications, though as noted in chapter 1, I believe the Ripper notes to have been fakes. Still, we can’t rule out the possibility that the
UNSUB
was taking his lead from the popular image of the Whitechapel killer. Remember, this guy alluded to a classic short story in his cryptogram; studying the Ripper murders would be even more right up his alley, so to speak. At any rate, he felt superior to the police and press just as the actual author of the “Dear Boss” letters wanted us to think of the East End murderer.

The Zodiac went on to provide explicit, moment-by-moment details of the murder of Darlene Ferrin and the attempted murder of Michael Mageau. Certainly, descriptions such as the following would prove to Chief Stiltz that the author and the killer were one and the same.

On the 4th of July …

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 end

ed up on the back seat then

the floor in back thrashing out

very violent with his legs;

that’s how I shot him in the

knee …

He even described the witness who saw him in the phone booth after the murders, “haveing some fun with the Vallejo cop,” thus proving he was also the one who placed at least that call. The Zodiac also included an extensive section on the Jensen/Faraday murders.

Last Christmass

In that epasode the police were

wondering as to how I could

shoot & 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… .

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 …

With this, the subject provided proof not only that he was on the scene the night Jensen and Faraday were killed, but that he actively followed his own press. You can see why I say the way facts are presented has an impact on the offender. In this case, the Zodiac had obviously been peeved for months by how the police made it seem that striking his targets that night was easier than it had been. This perception would fuel his general frustration at being misunderstood, that his skills were underappreciated, and his sense of inferiority. He had to make sure the planning, thought, and marksmanship that went into the crime would be fully appreciated. Thus, so many months later, he felt the need to include this information in a letter sent to answer questions about the more recent murders. Again, this speaks to the subject’s self-conscious compulsiveness. It also tells us that in conversations with others, he may have been complaining about the police and press coverage of the earlier killings. In the days after the Christmastime murders, I can imagine him grousing to a crony—another loner, less intelligent than he and one of his few confidants—that the police didn’t know what they were talking about. Look how dark it was that night, for example.

LAKE
BERRYESSA

Saturday, September 27, 1969, was a sunny, warm day—a day to be spent out of doors. And if you knew where to hunt, it was a perfect day for a killer to find new targets. Thirty-five miles north of Vallejo, Lake Berryessa Park was just such a location, with woods and secluded beaches around a man-made lake more than twenty-five miles long.

Cecelia Ann Shepard, twenty-two, was spending time with a friend of hers from Pacific Union College, twenty-year-old Bryan Hartnell, before she went off to continue her studies in music at the University of California, Riverside. After a morning of worship and packing, they spent the afternoon seeing friends and running errands around the Napa Valley wine country before stopping by the park in late afternoon. It was just after 4 P.M. when they walked out onto a peninsula on the western side of the lake and put down a blanket. Every so often, a boat would pass by, but for the most part they were completely alone.

At some point, Cecelia noticed a man approaching them. Because of the topography and foliage, he would disappear from view behind a slope in the hill or a tree, only to reappear much closer. When he was finally in front of them, the couple realized he had a gun. He had also put on a bizarre, elaborate costume, with a hooded mask and a symbol sewn onto his chest. The mask resembled a paper grocery bag in shape, flat on top, with the corners standing out. It was black, with slits cut for eyes and mouth. Over the eye holes, the mysterious man wore clip-on sunglasses. The mask draped down over his chest and back, with the symbol sewn onto it: a circle with a cross, like the crosshairs of a gun sight. The hood was worn over a dark-colored windbreaker, and this, in turn, over a rusty-black shirt. His sleeves were tight around his wrists and he wore black gloves. Under the costume, he had on baggy pleated pants, tucked into boots. He wore a belt with a wooden holder for a long knife. The knife resembled a bayonet and had a wooden handle with brass rivets, wrapped up in surgical tape.

One of his victims would later describe the man as five feet ten to six two, 225–250 pounds, stocky in build. At one point, a glimpse into the space behind his sunglasses revealed brown hair and a glimmer, suggesting he might have worn glasses under the hood. When he spoke, he sounded in his twenties.

He demanded the couple’s money and car keys, explaining that he wanted the car to drive to Mexico. When Bryan handed over his money and keys to his VW Karmann Ghia, the man holstered his gun. He explained that he’d escaped from prison in Deer Lodge, Montana, where he’d killed a prison guard. He said he had no money and was driving a stolen car and warned Bryan not to try to be a hero.

For his part, the prelaw student was trying to keep the man calm, offering to help him any way he could. But the man pulled out some clothesline and ordered Cecelia to tie up Bryan. As she did, she pulled his wallet out of his pocket and tossed it to the man. He seemed to ignore this gesture and bound her when she’d finished with Bryan. Then he double-checked her work, retying Bryan’s knots when he decided they were too loose. He announced he was going to stab them, and Bryan requested he be the first victim, arguing he couldn’t bear to see the man stab Cecelia. The assailant complied, stabbing him repeatedly in the back. He then turned his attention to the girl, who’d been screaming at him to stop. As she squirmed to get away, he stabbed her over and over, hitting her in the back, chest, abdomen, and groin. When he was done, the attacker left the money and keys on the blanket and simply walked off.

His victims were still alive, and although Cecelia was mortally wounded, stabbed twenty-four times and her aorta slashed, the two were able to untie each other’s bindings. But they’d lost so much blood neither was in any shape to go for help. A fisherman and his son passing by rushed to contact park rangers from Rancho Monticello Resort two miles from the scene. Ranger Dennis Land responded by patrol car, finding Bryan several hundred yards from the scene, as far as he could crawl. Ranger Sergeant William White covered the distance by boat. There was no ambulance at Lake Berryessa and the nearest medical help was nearly an hour away in Napa at Queen of the Valley Hospital. Although both survived the long, painful wait, Cecelia eventually succumbed to her injuries and died in the hospital the next afternoon. Bryan was placed under constant guard.

At around 7:40 P.M., a little more than an hour after the attack, as the couple were still awaiting the ambulance, a call came in to the Napa County Police Department. The officer on duty listened as the male caller reported a double murder at the park, giving a description of the victims’ car and their location. The caller sounded young, maybe early twenties. In a quiet voice, he ended the call by announcing he was the killer. When he finished talking, he simply left the phone off the hook, and the officer could hear sounds of traffic, people talking in the background. The call was traced to a pay phone at a car wash less than five miles from the police station, twenty-seven miles from the crime scene. Did the caller drive that far because he liked the feeling of being close to the police without them realizing who he was? Was it on his way home? Or both? Based on the timing of the phone call and that the caller said the victims were dead, police figured he must have left Lake Berryessa immediately after the attack. A palm print was pulled off the phone receiver, but there was nothing to compare it to.

A lone man was reported hanging around the lake that day. Three female students from Pacific Union College told police that a man in a car described as a light blue or silver Chevy, California tags, seemed to be watching them that afternoon. When they parked, he parked next to them and just sat in his car, smoking cigarettes. This was shortly before 3 P.M. About 4:00, they were sunbathing at the lake when they spotted the same guy looking at them. They described him as tall—six feet or more, 200–230 pounds, midtwenties to midthirties, with straight dark hair worn with a side part. They thought he looked clean-cut, wearing a black sweatshirt with short sleeves and dark blue slacks, although he had a Tshirt hanging out of his pants in the back. The girls worked with a police sketch artist to develop a composite. Police released the drawing, but Napa Sheriff ’s Captain Don Townsend stressed that this was not necessarily a sketch of the suspect, but of someone police would like to interview.

A man matching the girls’ description was also seen by a dentist out with his son. He estimated the man to be about five ten, stocky, wearing a dark, long-sleeved shirt with some red, and dark pants. When the man realized he’d been spotted, he left, and when the dentist and his son returned to their car, they could tell from tire tracks that a car had been parked right behind theirs.

Near Bryan’s car investigators found tire tracks and made plaster cases in hopes they’d soon have a suspect vehicle for comparison. They measured the distance between the tires and noted that the front of the car seemed to have tires that were not only worn, but of two different sizes. Footprints led to the crime scene and back and to the door of the Karmann Ghia. The shoe size was 10½, and based on how deep the prints went into the sand (compared to prints left by a police officer), the subject was estimated to weigh at least 220 pounds. And he was a cool customer—the heels of the man’s prints were clearly defined, which told police he wasn’t running but walking away as he left his victims to die. The prints also had an identifying mark, which investigators were able to trace to the manufacturer. They were from a Wing Walker, a type of boot produced under government contract and distributed on the West Coast to navy and air force installations.