“I’m not worried.” Atkins rubbed Ronnie’s leg. “I know that I can tell you things. Besides, if I ever got caught, I’m really good at playing the crazy little girl, plus I’ve got an alibi. None of that matters, though. The police are so far off track on the case, they don’t know anything.”
“What case?” Ronnie asked.
“The one in Benedict Canyon.”
“Sharon Tate?”
“That’s the one. You know who did it, don’t you?” The murderess moved just inches from Ronnie’s face. “Well, you’re looking at her.”
Ronnie lifted her head. “Why?”
“We wanted to do a crime that would shock the world.”
“But why did you pick Sharon Tate’s house?”
“Because it’s isolated.”
“Did you do it by yourself?”
“Oh no. Katie, Charles, and Linda helped.”
“How did it go down?”
“We walked up to the gate, and Charles cut the telephone wires so that—”
“Wasn’t he worried that he’d cut the electricity by mistake and be electrocuted?” Ronnie interrupted.
“No, he knew just what to do because we had visited the guy who lived there before. Anyway, just as we got over the gate, headlights shined toward us and before I knew it, I heard, pop-pop-pop-pop and—”
Ronnie stopped her again. “Is that the boy that was found in the car?”
“Yes, he was the first to die. Inside, we found Frykowski sleeping on the couch, and Abigail was in the bedroom reading a book.”
“Wait, I thought you picked the house at random? How did you know their names?”
“I didn’t until the next morning on the news, and boy, I knew them then.” Atkins laughed. “Sharon and Jay were in the other bedroom, and when I went back to get them, they looked up, and were they surprised!”
“Did they fight back?”
“Are you kidding? They knew we meant business.” Atkins sat up, her voice enthusiastic. “Frykowski broke free and ran for the door. I stabbed him three or four times; he was full of blood and bleeding all over the place. He ran to the front door and out onto the lawn— and would you believe that he was hollering, ‘Help, help, somebody please help me!’ and nobody came.” Atkins giggled. “We finished him off in the yard.
“Sharon was the last to die. I had her arms pinned behind her back and she was begging and crying, ‘Please don’t kill me. I don’t want to die. I want to live and have my baby.’ I stared her right in the eye and said, ‘Look, bitch, I don’t care about you. I don’t care if you’re going to have a baby. You had better be ready because you’re going to die, and I don’t feel anything about it.’ Then in a few minutes, I stabbed her. It felt so good, and when she screamed, it sent a rush through me, and I stabbed her again. It’s like a sexual release, especially when you see the blood spurting out. It’s better than a climax.” Atkins reached for Ronnie’s hand. “Have you ever tasted blood?”
Too afraid to utter a word, Ronnie shook her head.
“After Sharon was dead, I thought about cutting out the baby. I had blood all over my hands, and it was so warm and sticky, and nice, so I tasted it. Wow, what a trip, to taste death, and yet give life!” Atkins’s head fell back to the pillow. “You know the couple that was killed the next night?”
“The ones in Los Feliz? Was that you and your same friends?”
“What do you think? And there’s more; there are at least eleven bodies that they’ll never find.”
A career criminal, Ronnie had never snitched on anyone, but this was different. This was insanity, and she was going to break the code of silence.
In the meantime, the murders continued.
On November 5, the Venice police responded to an emergency call on Clubhouse Drive. John Haught was dead from a gunshot wound to the temple. Bruce Davis and other Manson Family members claimed Haught shot himself playing Russian roulette. There was an oddity noted in the police report that didn’t tally with their story: “The eight-shot, .22-caliber Iver Johnson revolver held seven live rounds and one spent shell.”
On November 16, the body of a young girl was found in the Santa Monica Mountains where Mulholland and Bowmont Drives intersect. She’d been stabbed 157 times. Lacking identification, the body was taken to the morgue and tagged Jane Doe 59. Spahn’s Ranch manager Ruby Pearl later identified the woman as “Sherry,” a girl who hung around the ranch and the Family.
November 17 was a big day for the LAPD. They were literally handed the solution to the murders from numerous sources.
Ronnie Howard had a court appearance, and a chance to make a phone call to the LAPD. Sgt. Larry Brown, received the call and then phoned Helder. “Bob, I got a paperhanger down at SBI says she’s solved the Tate murders for you,” Brown laughed. “Want me to check it out?”
“What the hell, it can’t hurt. Call me here if anything turns up.”
That same day, based on a tip from Sgt. Guenther, the LaBianca detectives interrogated Leslie Van Houten at the Inyo County jail. Van Houten admitted that members of her group, specifically, Tex, Katie, Sadie, and Linda, might have been involved in the Cielo Drive murders. As for the LaBianca couple, she claimed ignorance.
And while the Van Houten interview was in progress, a Venice Beach detective called Bob Helder. They had a biker in custody. A Straight Satan, Alan Springer, wanted to trade information on “Tate.”
Helder sent Mike McGann to interview Springer. Because a majority of what Springer relayed came secondhand from Satan treasurer Daniel DeCarlo, McGann had little faith in Springer’s information, until the biker let go of a bombshell. “Hey, Charlie said that they wrote something on the refrigerator in blood.”
McGann was familiar enough with the LaBianca case to know that the killers had written “Helter Skelter” on the refrigerator at that scene. A clue harbored from the public.
Suddenly interested, McGann asked, “Where’s DeCarlo?”
“He’s hiding, scared these freaks are going to kill him,” Springer said. “You get me outta here and I’ll bring him in for you. He’ll back up everything I’m saying, man.”
Springer was released on his own recognizance, but his freedom was contingent on bringing in Dan DeCarlo.
That same evening, Springer arrived with DeCarlo, and in a small interview room, Donkey Dan pinned the Cielo Drive, LaBianca, and Hinman murders to Charles Manson and the Family. DeCarlo was the “weapons man” at the ranch. He cleaned the guns and sharpened the knives, so it was easy for him to link the evidential murder weapons from each of the crime scenes to the Family.
During the course of the DeCarlo interview, the death toll grew. He told the detectives that Manson ordered the murder of ranch hand Donald O’Shea because he’d been snitching to George Spahn about the Family’s thefts and drug use.
Helder had just finished the DeCarlo interrogation when Larry Brown called from SBI. “Bob, you’d better get your ass down here. This gal knows what she’s talking about.” Details of Ronnie Howard’s story were ringing true.
The next morning, nine detectives and two lieutenants, including Bob Helder, gathered in the office of Roger Murdock, the chief of detectives. Murdock gave a bittersweet smile while the detectives ran down the specifics of the case mounting against the Manson Family.
There was one glitch in the “case solved” celebration: Except for Charles Manson and Susan Atkins, the authorities only had aliases or first names of their suspected killers: Charles/Tex, Katie, and Linda.
“Bob, how do you see proceeding?” Murdock asked.
“We’ve got corpses piling up all over the place. I say we get the DA’s office involved and get the ball rolling.”
VINCENT T. BUGLIOSI joined the District Attorney’s Office in 1964, just after graduating from UCLA. A deputy district attorney for five years, he was viewed as the quintessential prosecutor due to his hands-on investigative approach as well as his drive to uncover the facts.
True to form, Bugliosi
was at Spahn’s Ranch within eighteen hours of his assignment to the Manson Family case; collecting evidence, along with Lt. Helder, Sgt. Guenther, and their guide, Dan DeCarlo.
During a conversation with one of the ranch hands, Helder learned the identity of the suspected killer Linda. Her last name was Kasabian. Beyond that, the search was a bust because of gusting winds. It wasn’t the day’s only disappointment for the prosecutor.
Police Chief Ed Davis waited with Asst. DA Busch for Bugliosi’s return. “How did it go out there?” Busch asked Vince.
“Miserable. The winds—”
“We talked to Susan Atkins’s attorney this morning,” Davis interrupted. “He wants to deal; immunity in exchange for her testimony at the grand jury hearing. I think we should bite and wrap this whole thing up.”
“You’re kidding, right? There isn’t a case to take to the grand jury! I don’t even know for sure who the killers are—or their real names, for that matter; this is way too premature.”
“All the more reason to make the deal with Atkins; she’ll supply the missing pieces. The public pressure is too big not to move on this.” Davis smoothed back his already slick hair. “The press is on to this Manson Family, and they’re only willing to hold their stories until the first of December.”
“If what Atkins told Ronnie Howard is true, she personally stabbed Sharon Tate, Woytek Frykowski, Gary Hinman, and who knows how many others. This is not someone you offer immunity to!” Vince scornfully told the chief.
Busch intervened. “Vince, what if they kill again between now and December first? We don’t have a choice.”
In spite of the efforts of the combined law enforcement agencies, two more lives were taken on November 21. At 11:30 that evening, the bodies of James Sharp and Doreen Gaul were found in an alley near downtown Los Angeles. Both bodies were bludgeoned; both had at least fifty stab wounds. Coincidently, Family member Bruce Davis had previously dated Doreen Gaul.
Together, the detectives and Vince moved at lightning speed to gather evidence that would tie the suspects to the August 9 and 10 murders. Within the two-week deadline, more than a hundred people were interviewed; one led to their first piece of physical evidence. It turned out that Manson was an aspiring musician who’d befriended Beach Boy drummer Dennis Wilson and subsequently Terry Melcher, a record producer and former Cielo tenant.
After an unsuccessful interview with Melcher, Sgt. Patchett from the LaBianca team interviewed Melcher’s business associate Gregg Jakobson.
Impressed by Manson’s philosophy and music, Jakobson told Patchett, he decided to introduce Manson to Melcher. “Charlie’s views about life were different from anything I’d heard before,” Jakobson said.
“Yeah, well, considering what I saw at the LaBiancas’ house, you ought to be grateful for that.”
“Man, you don’t understand what I’m—”
“Mr. Jakobson, right now, I’m trying to keep anyone else from learning about Manson’s philosophy on life. So how about you just answer the questions I ask. Ever heard of Charlie Montgomery?”
“That’s Tex, I know him pretty well. His real name is Charles Watson. I think he’s back in Texas.”
Patchett ran the name through their database and found that Charles Denton Watson had been arrested in April of 1969 for possession of drugs—he’d been booked and fingerprinted. Watson’s right ring finger matched a print lifted from the Cielo front door.
Twenty-one hours before Chief Davis’s planned announcement, the state had their sole piece of physical evidence against the suspects.
In the rural community of Denton, Texas, just a few miles from the suspected killer’s hometown, Sheriff Tom Montgomery arrested his cousin Charles Watson for murder.
The Malibu sheriffs provided the missing link to the suspect known only as “Katie.” During the August 16 raid at Spahn’s Ranch, they had arrested a young woman going by that name. Her father, Joseph, arranged for her release. At the time, he’d signed her out as Patricia Krenwinkel.
While the media set up cameras and microphones in the press auditorium, authorities pursued Patricia Krenwinkel. Her father gave detectives her address in Mobile, Alabama.
At the same time the LAPD phoned Mobile with a warrant for her arrest, Krenwinkel called his daughter to ask why the police wanted to locate her.
Ten minutes before Chief Davis’s live broadcast, Alabama authorities apprehended Krenwinkel a block from her aunt’s home.
“Ed, you can’t go through with this,” Bugliosi announced at 1:30 in Davis’s office. “I don’t have enough evidence on Manson to get an indictment. If it wasn’t for the arson and auto theft charges, he’d be on the loose. I’ve barely scraped together enough evidence to get the warrants on Krenwinkel and Kasabian, but they won’t hold.”
“There are over two hundred reporters from all over the world waiting out there. I don’t have a choice,” Davis argued. “You can join me or not, I’m going out there.”
Chief Davis didn’t extend the same invitation to the Inyo County authorities who had worked tirelessly to capture the killers and break the case.
Seated behind a spray of microphones, Davis squinted into the bright camera lights. “After 8,750 hours of tenacious investigation by the LAPD, warrants have been issued for the arrest of three individuals in connection with the murders of Sharon Tate, Abigail Folger, Woytek Frykowski, Steve Parent, and Thomas John Sebring. These persons were also involved in the murder deaths of Rosemary LaBianca and Leno LaBianca. The development of information from these two separate investigations led detectives to the conclusion that the crimes in both cases were indeed committed by the same group of people.
“The persons for whom warrants have been issued are: Charles
D. Watson, twenty-four years of age, now in custody in McKinney, Texas; Patricia Krenwinkel, age unknown, now in custody in Mobile, Alabama; and Linda Kasabian, not yet in custody.”
Davis didn’t mention there were other Family members who were still at large and hunting their victims.
At about the same time the press conference took place, Joel Pugh, husband of Family member Sandra Good Pugh, was found dead in a Talgarth Hotel room near the Kensington (Olympia) station in London, England. His throat and wrists had been slashed. As with so many other murders committed by Manson Family members, the killer left a bloody inscription.
“IN THE EVENT that she testifies truthfully at the grand jury, the prosecution will not seek the death penalty against her in any of the three cases. . . .”
It was the deal of a lifetime for Susan Atkins.
Twenty days before Christmas 1969 reporters trampled over one another vying for a glimpse, a photograph, or a statement from Susan Atkins.
Wearing a rose-colored velveteen dress, her dark, shoulder-length hair flipped at the end, Atkins smiled demurely one moment then cackled the next, her character changing with the flash of the cameras as she posed for the newsmen. “Would you like to have a news conference with us, Susan?” one reporter yelled over the others.
“Sure!” Atkins said.
“What would you tell us?”
“Exactly what you want to hear!” she said, with the glee of a child.
Picked by lot, the twenty-one members of the grand jury formed a diverse group; nevertheless, they each viewed Atkins on the witness stand with the identical perspective. Her attitude was appallingly callous. Perfectly clear, her voice was sometimes flat, other times excited, but never remorseful as she verbally sketched two nights of murder with a complete disregard for human life.
Atkins’s nearly black eyes widened at Vince Bugliosi’s first question. “Are you a little nervous?”
Atkins crossed her legs, elegantly rested her hands on her knee, and in a voice of saturated composure, replied, “Scared to death.”
Once Vince had established that Atkins met Charles Manson in 1967 while living in San Francisco, and he’d provided some details about the evolution of their group, he asked, “During this period, w
ere all of you girls Charlie’s girls, so to speak?”
“We were called Charlie’s girls, but Charlie often told us, ‘You people do not belong to me, you belong to yourself.’ ”
“What was it about Charlie that caused you girls to be in love with him?”
“Charlie is the only man that I have met on the face of this earth that is a complete man. He has more love to give to the world than anybody I have ever met.”
“Susan, do you think Charlie is an evil person?”
“In your standards of evil, I would say yes. Looking at him through my eyes, he is as good as he is evil. You could not judge the man.”
“Did you live at the Spahn’s Ranch in Chatsworth with Charlie Manson and the other girls?”
“Yes.”
“What type of life did you lead on the ranch?”
“It was beautiful, very, very peaceful. We took care of the ranch and each other. We all made love with each other, got over our inhibitions and inadequate feelings, and became very uninhibited.”
“Did you call your group by a name, Susan?”
“Among ourselves we were called the Family—a family like no other family. We loved the whole world completely.”
“Susan, on the date of August 8, did Charlie Manson instruct you and some other members in the Family to do anything?”
“I never recall getting any actual instructions from Charlie, other than getting a change of clothing and a knife, and he told me to go with Tex and do exactly what Tex told me to do.”
“Did Tex tell you where you were going to go?”
“He told us that we were going to a house that used to belong to Terry Melcher.”
“Was there a reason why you were going to that house?”
“The reason Charlie picked that house was to instill fear into Terry Melcher because Terry had given us his word on a few things and never came through with them.”
“Did Tex tell you that he’d been at Terry Melcher’s former residence?” Bugliosi asked.
“Yes. Tex said he knew the outline of the house because he and Charlie had been there talking to Terry.”
“Did Tex tell you why you were going to Terry Melcher’s former residence?”
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