The Cases That Haunt Us (35 page)

This was but one indication that law enforcement was looking for a subject with a military background. He was obviously familiar with weapons, was an excellent shot, was not afraid to kill up close and personal with a knife, and had at least been exposed to symbols used by the military and had possibly been trained in codes. He had been described as clean-cut, with short hair. And certainly northern California had no lack of military installations.

I would have advised police to look into medical discharges, or discharges with no reason given, because the subject probably couldn’t cut it in such a structured, disciplined environment long-term. He would be highly intelligent and skillful, but would have trouble with authority and resent the intrusions of others.

The
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had also given another clue to his identity by his reference to Deer Lodge, Montana. There is—and was—a prison there, and while the story of his breakout and murder of a guard proved false, connections to that place should not have been ruled out. For one thing, you don’t just pull a location like Deer Lodge, Montana, out of a hat. I spent some time as a student at Montana State in Bozeman, and I didn’t recognize the name, so I can assure you that most people outside of Big Sky country wouldn’t have heard of the place.

This guy fully expected both Cecelia and Bryan would end up dead. In fact, when he misspoke in his call to police to report the crime as a murder, he corrected himself to clarify it was actually a
double
murder. If both victims were to die, there’d be no risk in mentioning a place that held some significance to him. I think this information can be used to law enforcement’s advantage.

Here’s a scenario: Cooperate with an investigative reporter writing about the cases locally in Deer Lodge. With the facts of the murders, release general profile information on the suspect, indicating that police in California have reason to believe the killer has links to the area without leaking why they believe this. Along with the elements garnered from witnesses—white male, midtwenties to early thirties, etc.—the profile would include the following behavioral traits: suspect is a loner, paranoid, nocturnal, and intelligent. He has an extreme interest in weapons and may have left the area for military reasons, if, for example, he was to be stationed in California, and he may have had a medical discharge from the military since then. He may also have communicated with someone in Deer Lodge in a position of authority in a scornful way (as a precursor to his taunting letters to police and the press in California).

A little later, we’ll get into a more detailed discussion of proactive techniques I’d try in this case, but I have to stress now that this is the type of investigation where that approach is most helpful. The offender is communicating with the police and the newspapers, so you know he’s following his press. This makes him vulnerable because he can’t help but react to what is said (and printed) about him. Look how quickly he responded to Chief Stiltz, for example. On the other side of the coin, he’s a white-male, paranoid loner who likes guns and isn’t real successful with women. A lot of social misfits out there meet that general description. In this case, then, profiling is only going to be so helpful in narrowing the field of suspects. You have to flush this guy out, do something to make him come forward. I think in large part this is why the Zodiac was never apprehended. In the late sixties and early seventies, he was a modern serial killer being pursued by old-fashioned, tried-and-true investigative techniques. He slaughtered people who were either unknown to him or could not be traced back to him. His motives were nontraditional and undecipherable. He evolved, using different MOs and different weapons at each crime scene. He moved from one jurisdiction to another, manipulating public and press everywhere he went.

Like the Jensen-Faraday case, the Berryessa attacks occurred on a site with overlapping jurisdictions. So while park rangers rushed to the scene and stayed with the victims, the Napa County Sheriff ’s Office spearheaded the investigation. Detective Sergeant Kenneth Narlow arrived to find someone had already “cleaned up” the crime scene, packing away for him the couple’s blanket and the clothesline used to tie them. We’ve made the case in other chapters, too, that the more people you have working a crime scene, the more confusing it is for the people who end up with ultimate responsibility for the case.

One aspect of the scene, however, was completely undisturbed, although highly disturbing to Narlow. Before he’d left, the
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left a message on the door of Bryan Hartnell’s car in black marker:

Vallejo

12-20-68

7-4-69

Sept 27-69-6:30

by knife

The first two dates marked the murders of Jensen/Faraday and Ferrin. Above the words appeared the crossed-circle symbol the Zodiac used as his signature in the letters mailed to the press in early August. This
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wanted to make sure the police realized they were dealing with a serial killer.

At first glance, it might seem obvious that these attacks were related. After all, we’re dealing with a subject who targets young couples in remote areas at night or evening and for whom typical motives such as robbery or sexual assault do not apply. But there are critical differences between this case and the others, and I don’t mean just the bizarre, apparently homemade costume. Without his hint, given the change in jurisdiction and location, investigators might not have immediately linked this case to the ones in Vallejo. In a sense, the subject was almost giving police a break by telling them to look for one offender.

Back at Quantico, my unit saw many cases of linkage blindness. That is, a serial offender would change and perfect his MO, move to other jurisdictions, or escalate in violence as a typical progression, so police would think several criminals were at work when it was really all done by the same one. Here’s an example: A rapist-murderer starts out assaulting and strangling a prostitute, leaving her body in the alley where the crime took place. He realizes afterward that next time it’ll be less risky if he transports his victim to another location where he won’t face the danger of someone walking in on him. So he picks up his next victim and takes her out to a remote site and leaves her body there. And since he has more time with her, he doesn’t have to rape and kill her as quickly, so maybe this time he’ll torture her a little. With practice, this same guy could be picking up lonely, vulnerable women in bars, holding them for a few days of torture before killing them, and disposing of their bodies in places where they might never be found. Without behavioral or forensic clues to link the crimes, especially if they’re committed in different jurisdictions so investigators in one place never hear about the others, police might never make the connection. And my example isn’t such a stretch. I testified as an expert witness to help secure the conviction of serial murderer George Russell Jr., where the linkage was based on the signature element of posing.

Now let’s consider the differences between the Lake Berryessa attack and the previous ones in Vallejo. First, there’s a big difference between shooting at people in a car and stabbing them. In the first case, you get away clean. You’re watching it unfold before you, but you’re not really coming in contact with your victims. And at Lake Berryessa, we’re talking about spending time talking to the victims, hearing their voices, developing something of a rapport with them. Then, after the subject gets what he is ostensibly after—the victims freely complied with his demands for their money and car keys, remember—he brutally attacks anyway. With each thrust of his knife, he was getting more and more of their blood on him, hearing them screaming and moaning in pain. Remember, too, that he had a gun with him, meaning he didn’t have to use his knife. If it was fear or control he was after, he could have used the knife and his words effectively for that, resorting to the gun when it came time to finish them off. He chose to use the knife. And since it was dusk, rather than midnight, he got a good look at the horrible scene before him.

This brings us to the next point: the earlier timing and location of the attack indicates the subject’s willingness to take greater risks. It was midafternoon when the three college students and the dentist and his son spotted the suspicious man. The self-styled killing uniform Bryan Hartnell described was good for hiding the killer’s face and hair, but would only have attracted attention if he had tried to wear it the whole time he was in the park. Although no one was likely to stumble upon the scene as the killer stabbed Bryan and Cecelia, it was possible. And although a knife makes no noise compared to a gunshot, the victims’ screams could certainly attract attention. If someone had seen them from a boat, the
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had no way to keep them from reporting the attack. The best he’d be able to do would be to beat a hasty retreat, possibly leaving several witnesses able to give police a description. He furthered his risks by spending so much time talking to the victims; and murder by stabbing takes longer than a couple of quick gunshots.

There was also the disturbing trend of the shortening time between the murders. Seven months had passed between the Jensen/Faraday murders and the assault on Darlene Ferrin and Michael Mageau. The Lake Berryessa attack came less than three months later. In all aspects, then, this crime clearly represented a progression from the other murders. Successful offenders such as this don’t just stop committing crimes, and as they continue, they only get bolder and, typically, more violent and deadly. One could only expect the Zodiac to continue on this course.

TAXI
DRIVER

It was 9:30 P.M., October 11, when cabdriver Paul Lee Stine picked up a fare on Geary Street in San Francisco. Stine was actually already answering a call from a fare on Ninth Avenue, but was stuck in the crush of people milling about the theater district on a foggy Saturday night. When the lone man approached his cab for a ride, he requested a location that was on the way to the Ninth Avenue call, so Stine picked him up. He wrote the destination, Washington and Maple, in his log and headed west toward the residential area near the Presidio.

Although Stine’s trip sheet said Washington and Maple, the cab eventually stopped one block farther at Washington and Cherry. At this location, instead of paying his fare and exiting the cab, the rider shot Paul Stine in the right side of his face at close range. He then moved into the front seat and took the cabbie’s wallet. He also ripped off part of Stine’s shirt. He left Stine’s Timex watch, checkbook, a ring, and a little over $4 in change in the cabdriver’s pocket. When he was done, he got out of the cab and wiped down sections of the driver’s door and the left rear passenger door. He then leaned against the divider between the front and back windows of the car as he opened the driver’s door and wiped off the dashboard before he closed the door and walked off into the night.

What he didn’t know was that virtually the entire event had been witnessed by a fourteen-year-old girl at a party just across the street. She was looking out a second-story window about fifty feet from the cab. When she realized what she was seeing, she summoned her two brothers to the window. By the time the stocky, white man was wiping down the cab, a crowd of people were gathered around, with a clear view out the window. They didn’t stop watching until he’d disappeared from their view, turning the corner. He simply walked from the scene.

While this was unfolding, people at the party called the police. At 9:58 P.M., the operator taking details of the crime in progress somehow ended up describing the suspect as a black man. So when the dispatcher put out the all points bulletin, units on the street were given the proper direction the suspect was headed, but an incorrect physical description.

What happened next has been subject to different interpretations. By several accounts—including the Zodiac’s, given in a later letter—the first officers responding to the call in a patrol car got to the intersection of Cherry Street and Jackson within minutes and saw a stocky white man walking in the direction of the Presidio. Had there been more light, they might have seen blood on his dark clothing. And had they known the
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was white, this story might have gone in any of a number of different directions. But since they were looking for a black man, they just asked him if he’d seen anything suspicious. He reported seeing a man with a gun running along Washington Street, heading east. So off they went. The patrolmen realized about a week later that they’d likely seen the killer and worked with an artist to develop a composite sketch. When Robert Graysmith researched this miscommunication, he found their report had been filed away as confidential, and the official statement from the San Francisco police was that none of their officers had ever seen the suspect. But that position does not explain the existence of the composite sketch, which was actually the second one prepared, since a police artist drew one the morning after the murder with input from the witnesses at the party.

This near miss could have afforded a great opportunity, unrecognized at the time, to get the Zodiac to come forward. A statement could have been released stating that the police were seeking assistance from the community following this heinous crime. The announcement would make it clear that several people other than the suspect had been seen in the area at the time and were now being identified. Police would like to speak to anyone who was there to see if they’d seen anything. If it worked, the subject would come forward with a story that would legitimately place him in the area and cover his butt in case anyone else had seen him.

When they arrived, police found Paul Stine slumped over onto the passenger side of the front seat, with his head on the floor of the cab. There was much blood, and although the keys were missing, the meter, eerily, was still running. The officers summoned an ambulance and also put out word that the suspect in question was actually a white male. In addition to the first two officers who responded, Inspector Walter Kracke, a homicide detective on his way home, heard the call and got quickly to the crime scene. His experience would prove valuable as he helped the other officers secure the scene. By the time homicide inspectors Dave Toschi and partner Bill Armstrong, the team on duty that night, got there, the ambulance had already arrived and Stine been declared dead. Kracke had notified the coroner and requested all available canine units and a spotlight vehicle from the fire department to assist in the search.