Date With the Devil

by Don Lasseter

  Peter took his new family to a home in Bolton, Massachusetts, located in the suburbs of Boston. “It was a small town, maybe five thousand people, and great for kids, with good neighbors. Everyone had two or three acres of land, giving plenty of space for children.” Kristin’s congenial personality made it easy to meet and befriend other families.

  An expert skier, Peter also taught the sport. “I got them involved in skiing, and Kristin took it up with wild enthusiasm. In my job as ski instructor, at a place near Leominster, I could get them on the slopes for free. When you teach young kids, they take it up easily because they have no fear. Kristin was one of the better ones, absolutely fearless. She loved going straight down the hill, objecting to making any turns. The faster she went, the more thrilled she was. The other three kids were a little more cautious. Remember, she was just a young tyke, six or seven. I still laugh when I recall one of her antics. I taught ski racing, and Kristin loved that. She noticed people on the Poma lift, a device to pull people up the hill. You straddle a bar that is attached to a moving cable, and lean back against a small platter, which rests against the back of your thighs. Kristin thought the spacing of people on the Poma lift looked like gates on a slalom course. She got up to the top, and started skiing down, zigzagging between them, ducking under the cable. Of course, the ski patrol spotted her, and they kicked her out for the day. She hadn’t hit anyone, but they didn’t appreciate her scaring the bejesus out of people going up the lift. Yeah, she was very exuberant.”

  Peter Means ensconced himself in the hearts of his new brood of kids. Robin still spoke of her second stepfather with a special reverence in her voice. “Peter Means was the one who raised us and was the only man in my life I consider my father. My birth name was Arlington, but I have never talked about it. We were so attached to Peter. He was our dad. We needed some normalcy, and he gave it to us. All of us kids took his name. He treated us like his own, but he related really well with Kristin.”

  Rick, Robin’s twin brother, in reminiscing about those childhood years, said, “I was really close to Kristin, even though she was three years younger. Sometimes, though, like most brother-sister bonds, it would be like a love-hate relationship. We were totally best friends or we were pissed off at each other.”

  In 1978, Peter’s employer offered him a promotion by moving to the West Coast. He realized that Marie and her children had lived a nomadic existence and wanted to put an end to their frequent relocations. Peter bought a home in one of the most attractive and affluent residential sites in Southern California, packed his family into a vehicle, and headed to the “Golden State.”

  Speaking of the trip to the West Coast, Rick recalled, “Kristin and I were not allowed to sit next to each other because we had too much fun. It was like, ‘Hey you guys back there, be quiet!’”

  Westlake Village is located at the westernmost edge of Los Angeles County and overlaps into neighboring Ventura County. It is separated from Malibu Beach by only a dozen miles across the Santa Monica Mountains. Nestled against picturesque hills, the tree-laden community surrounds a man-made lake. Personal boat harbors lie within a few steps of waterside homes, and a luxurious golf course is nearby. The quiet, spacious ambience lured numerous celebrities from the world of sports, entertainment, and business. Legendary football star Joe Montana, Los Angeles Dodgers’ announcer Vin Scully, and former wrestler Hulk Hogan bought homes there, as did film stars Robert Young, Martin Lawrence, George C. Scott, and Mariel Hemingway, among many others.

  The new two-story, five-bedroom house acquired by Means occupied the Ventura County side. Diagonally across the street lived a girl born just a few weeks sooner than Kristin. Jennifer Gootsan, a native and lifelong resident of Westlake Village, would eventually become almost like another sister to Kristi, but not at first. Recalling their shared childhood, Jennifer said, “When Kristin and I first met, we actually didn’t get along at all. It’s weird how we became the-best-of-the-best of friends, and extended it later on in our lives. At first she and I clashed over silly, girly things, just teenage stuff. It wasn’t about boys. They were not really an issue. It was more about whose hair looked better that day or who had the cuter clothes.”

  In the upscale neighborhood, the children reveled in their newfound lifestyle. “There were lots of big families. Lots of block parties. At Christmas, we had a piñata,” Robin described. “All the neighborhood kids came to our garage. Most of the families in the surrounding area were there, not just one or two kids. Jennifer was friends with Kristin, and her younger brother was friends with my youngest sister. Same with several other families, lots of friends. Several of us ran track and played softball together, and everything was always about the neighbors.”

  Looking back fondly at those years, Peter Means smiled as he told of Kristin’s debut as a “singer.” “We went down to San Diego for a vacation and stayed on Harbor Island. In the hotel, they had a karaoke-like event, which turned out to be more of an impromptu talent show. Kristin was about eleven or twelve and decided she wanted to go up and show off her skills. She sang ‘Tomorrow,’ the big song from the Broadway show Annie, and she did it in a very animated way. She brought the house down. I don’t know that she was a particularly natural singer, like some of those remarkable people who show up on American Idol. She did well, but it was her animation that wowed the audience. And she won the contest. She liked belting out that song. That event followed her around from then on.”

  In the summer during school holidays, the kids spent as much time as possible at Malibu or Zuma Beach. Kristin fell in love with the ocean and became a dedicated beach bunny. A deep tan became her trademark, and she gradually mastered surfboard skills in the crashing Pacific waves.

  Several summers included visits to a relative’s farm in Vermont, where Kristin and her siblings learned to ride horses. Always athletic, Kristin adapted to the saddle as easily as she did to skis and a surfboard.

  While Robin and her twin, Rick, entered Westlake High School, Kristi and her friend Jennifer enrolled at nearby Triunfo Elementary School. “Jennifer lived close to us,” Rick said, “and I used to mow her lawn. I mowed everybody’s lawn on that street because I was a real entrepreneur.”

  With misty eyes, Jennifer recalled, “Kristin and I were classmates and could walk to the school together along paved, tree-shaded paths. I remember her in the fourth, fifth, and sixth grades, and then later in seventh and eighth grades at Colina Middle School, in Thousand Oaks. It’s a blue-ribbon school. And then we moved over to Westlake High. By this time, we were great friends. She spent a lot of time with my family too. Like, if Kristi and her mom would get in a little fight or something, she would come over and stay in our guest room. My mom looked at her like another daughter and always sided with Kristi when we had fights. I was the wild one. In high school, I had a boyfriend right away, like when I was fourteen. And I don’t remember exactly who she dated, but I know all the guys wanted to go out with her. She was so outgoing. This is one thing I can tell—she was always the life of the party.”

  Rick acted as big brother and covert protector to Kristin. “I was a senior and she was a freshman. She was cute and a lot of guys liked her, but I let them know that I was there to see that nothing happened to her. I don’t think she ever realized that.”

  If Jennifer took on the role of another sister to Kristin, then her real sibling Robin soon became a de facto mother. It came about as the result of yet another divorce.

  Peter recalled the breakup. “Marie and I separated and went our different ways. I moved out and took only what I could carry in my car. All the kids were teenagers at the time. I stayed around the area, of course, and got to see them a fair amount.” He resettled in Simi Valley, about fourteen miles northeast of Westlake Village, and eventually took a beautiful new bride named Sue.

  Looking back, Robin recalled, “When I turned eighteen, my parents were getting a divorce, so I was sort of the mom for Kristin and my little sister, Stephanie. My mother, newly
divorced, went back to work and spent time finding herself. This put me in the motherly mode. It was no problem for me. Instead of being sisters, it was more like a mother-daughter relationship with both Kristin and Stephanie. They needed me and accepted me in the role of mom.”

  To Rick, the divorce meant fewer restrictions on the kids. “Mom worked at night and usually didn’t get home until about three o’clock in the morning. So we pretty much had the run of the house. Our friends discovered this, and a lot of them would come over and hang out. It was like the neighborhood party house. All hell would break loose, especially in the summer when school was out.”

  At Westlake High School, the camaraderie between Jennifer and Kristin grew even stronger. “We took the bus together. She was an excellent student and was very smart—always pleasant, very witty. It’s no exaggeration to say she was always one of the most gregarious and admired kids. In our yearbook, Kristi was singled out as the most popular girl. She had a million friends.”

  Peter Means also recognized Kristin’s esteem among her peers. “It is correct that she was elected as most popular. She was a real social person and friends with everyone, with no fear of people. Kristin would talk to anyone, no matter what social level, rich or poor. She loved working with handicapped kids and volunteered with an Easter Seals group. The kids adored her because she was a lot of fun. Bubbly and outgoing, she could relate to them.”

  At the time they first moved to Westlake Village, Robin and Kristin were impressed with the knowledge that numerous celebrities lived in the enclave. Robin said, “Of course, growing up there, we had a lot of stars in our lives. Every summer we went to Catalina Island for ten days. We met Arnell Simpson, O.J.’s daughter there. She was a good friend of ours. In our neighborhood, we often saw Heather Locklear and Courteney Cox. Her dad was friends with my dad. We often ran into celebrities. Jayne Mansfield’s son grew up in Westlake and was best friends with Vicky, who was my best friend. So we were always interacting with someone who had links to celebrity. We’d go to the Malibu chili cook-off and see Charlie Sheen and his brother Emilio Estevez. That was all part of being raised where we were. We spent a lot of time in the beach area, especially at Malibu. As we got older, we were no longer awed by celebrities. We realized they were just regular people too.”

  Kristin’s exposure to people in show business inspired a growing fantasy. Her bright mind, creative wit, trim stature, and mesmerizing emerald green eyes gave her the potential to fit right into the Hollywood scene. Early on, she appeared to have entertainment skills. Robin spoke of her terrific knack for hearing people’s accents and imitating them perfectly. “She made it hilarious. She had a great sense of humor and was always laughing. We can thank our father, Peter, for that. He is a very intelligent man and taught us that humor can get you through hard times. She was always in the spotlight and wanted to be an actress. But she never made any real plans to do anything about it. She just said, maybe someday.”

  Jennifer agreed. “She did. She told me she wanted to be in movies someday.”

  All four of Marie’s children had been legally adopted by Peter Means, so they all took his surname. Later, though, Kristin would revert to Baldwin for a convenient reason. Peter knew all about it and understood.

  Rudyard Kipling wrote, Never praise a sister to a sister... . If he had lived to know Robin, Kristin, and Stephanie, Kipling might have rescinded his comment. These siblings generously praised one another mutually or to anyone else who would listen. In introducing Kristin to strangers, Robin would proudly say, “This is my sister.”

  CHAPTER 3

  A SAD RIDDLE

  Detectives Christopher Fisher and Mike Gilliam, of the San Bernardino County Sheriff’s Department (SBCSD), Homicide Unit, sped across the desert and arrived at the body discovery site a little before noon. They realized that the witnesses, Allura McGehay, Robert LaFond, and Christopher De Witt, had been wilting in the blazing heat too long. After interviewing them briefly and noting vital information, Gilliam released the two men so they could continue to their original destinations.

  A tow truck had shown up prior to the detectives’ arrival and had pulled Allura’s Dodge pickup out of the sandy shoulder trap. She, too, breathed a sigh of relief when they allowed her to leave.

  Accompanied by forensic specialists, Fisher and Gilliam inspected the body more closely. Gilliam observed that the decedent not only wore a gold-colored wristwatch, but also a bracelet, ring, and earrings. The presence of jewelry certainly didn’t rule out robbery, but it suggested other possible motives for her death and disposal in the desert wash. No purse or identification papers could be found, so she would be categorized as a Jane Doe for the time being.

  Scrutinizing the face, almost devoid of flesh, Gilliam thought he could see damage to the skull, especially around the nasal cavity. This injury could possibly be related to the cause of death, perhaps a blunt-force trauma or even a gunshot wound. Of course, it would take a careful autopsy to deal with those issues.

  Another interesting fact caught Gilliam’s attention. Even though the fingers had been dehydrated, blackened, and shrunken by the sun, the fingernails remained in perfect shape. The neat manicure made a jarring contrast between decayed flesh and the nails still radiating a lifelike glow.

  The victim’s clothing had been ravaged by weather. What remained appeared to be a tank top and a pink bra, both pushed up high so they encircled the body under her armpits. A pair of shorts, sheer and possibly white, clung to her lower body. Positioning of the pitiful rags could suggest a possible sexual assault.

  Detective Fisher took extensive photos of the human remains, the bridge, and the surrounding terrain. Standing on the bridge’s shoulder, he tried to decide if the person who had dumped the body had carried it down to the wash or had dropped it from the bridge. Since only the victim’s arm protruded from the dark underside, it looked to the detective that someone must have lugged the body down there. Still, Fisher couldn’t rule out the possibility that the corpse, perhaps still in rigor mortis, had been dropped the six or eight feet from above, and had tumbled partially under the structure.

  Neither investigator could be certain the woman could ever be identified. Yet, the timing of the miraculous discovery, attributable to Allura McGehay’s bad luck at getting stuck in the sand, at least left some window of opportunity for identification. In just a few more days of blazing heat, the body and shards of clothing would have been deteriorated beyond any chance of recognition.

  Deputy Doug Alexander had already photographed the shoes worn by Robert LaFond and Christopher De Witt to eliminate footprints they had left near the body. Now the sleuths meticulously searched the perimeter for other prints, cigarette butts, or anything that might be related to the victim’s death. Several plastic bottles and aluminum cans were collected, bagged, and tagged. The team sifted sand and gravel, looking for possible bullets or fragments. Nothing useful turned up.

  After coroner’s technicians loaded the corpse into a van for transportation to the coroner’s office, Gilliam knew he couldn’t yet rest. Amazingly, two other dead female bodies were found in the vicinity that same weekend.

  All three victims of savage depravity were transported to the coroner’s office. In the case of the Jane Doe found near Daggett, the possibility of identification through fingerprints at first appeared to be zero. But, despite the terrible condition of her leatherlike flesh, one of the specialists decided to try a recently developed method. The Microsil process involves using a pastelike substance that contains silicone to form a cast. Forensic uses for the procedure include lifting fingerprints from difficult surfaces, preparing a three-dimensional replica of a human bite mark in flesh, and to cast prints from fingers that have been subjected to advanced decomposition. Incredibly, it worked. A set of fingerprints, even if imperfect, at least offered a chance for an opening gambit in solving a sad riddle of probable murder.

  CHAPTER 4

  “I’LL NEVER FORGET THAT DAY”

 
; The mysterious discovery of an unidentified female body in the desert near Daggett would eventually have a profound impact on the lives of two dynamic women in Hollywood. Detective Vicki Bynum and her supervisor, Detective Wendi Berndt, veteran members of the Los Angeles Police Department (LAPD), worked at one of the most well-known police headquarters in the country, the historic Hollywood Station. Vicki Bynum, gentle and soft-spoken with a hint of mirth constantly in her blue eyes, had started as a patrol officer in 1989. Her veteran supervisor, Wendi Berndt, articulate and captivating, would bring to classic film buffs’ minds the remarkable actor-director Ida Lupino. Berndt had been in the Hollywood Station twenty-six of her twenty-eight years as a cop. Both of the bright and impressive women maintained their femininity while keeping an equal footing with thick-skinned male colleagues.

  Another former LAPD officer, famed author Joseph Wambaugh, has used the Hollywood Station as a venue for numerous action-packed novels. He also immortalized it with his first true-crime book, The Onion Field, in which he chronicled the 1963 murder of Officer Ian Campbell. Visitors to the building cannot fail to notice seven prominent star shapes decorating the entrance pavement. They are cast in the same style as the Hollywood Walk of Fame, which features more than 2,400 pink terrazzo stars embedded in darker-colored sidewalks along the streets of Tinseltown, each one containing the name of a celebrity. The seven stars at the LAPD station memorialize officers who died in the line of duty, including Ian Campbell.

  In two of his recent books, Hollywood Station and Hollywood Moon, Wambaugh acknowledges Vicki Bynum and Wendi Berndt as sources of information. The author expertly weaves real-life places, people, and events into both works of fiction. The title Hollywood Moon refers to bizarre events and crimes that occur when a full moon illuminates the entertainment capital.