by Don Lasseter
Early Sunday morning, a team of searchers, including a helicopter, swept over the desert region near Barstow, concentrating on the intersection of I-15 with I-40. No hospital sign could be found anywhere in the vicinity. Nothing turned up to even hint that an injured or dead woman had been dropped off. A check with all the local medical centers was equally disappointing. Mahler’s self-serving claims of Kristi being left near a hospital, where she could have possibly received treatment, proved completely false—more lies. They were probably efforts on his part to curry favor with the detectives by creating an image of his compassion. If so, he seriously misjudged Bynum and Small.
Other officers were deployed that day to drive the entire twisting three-mile labyrinth of Sunset Plaza Drive and hunt for the trash bin in which the gun had been discarded, according to Mahler’s “hearsay.” Hours of digging through all types of refuse produced nothing. They experienced the same results after rummaging through several trash barrels close to the Chinese restaurant. If Mahler had told the truth, either some “Dumpster diver” had beaten them to the weapon and the documents, or everything had been transported and buried at a disposal site. Neither the gun nor the identification papers would ever be found.
After a day of rest on Sunday, Tom Small, Vicki Bynum, and Wendi Berndt’s homicide team resumed the investigation early on Monday morning, June 4.
Bynum arrived at the LAX Marriott by 6:00 A.M. and spoke to David Grant, director of loss prevention for the hotel, and security director Ken Van Meter. Both of them clearly remembered David Mahler’s stay. At Bynam’s request, they provided records of it. He had checked in at 6:57 A.M. on May 27, and left the next day at approximately 11.51 A.M., resulting in being required to pay for two nights. A total of $3,706.38 had been charged to Mahler’s credit card. The room rate of $250 plus taxes per night accounted for a portion of it. Other assessments included two vehicles left in the valet’s custody, room service charges of $415, a fee for smoking in a nonsmoking room, and several bottles of liquor. The cost had skyrocketed by an additional fee of $2,200 for the destruction of a wide-screen television set. Bynum marveled at Mahler’s extravagance. She knew he had also paid $700 to a hooker, and probably paid Atticus King for his services. All of this took place after probably shooting a woman to death just a few hours earlier. The callous self-indulgence gnawed at the detective’s stomach.
She also wondered if his choice of a hotel near Los Angeles International Airport signaled his thoughts of fleeing the country.
The hotel employee explained the procedure of allowing Mahler to check in under their “code blue” policy. “On occasion we have guests who want to remain anonymous for whatever reason, such as they don’t want to receive incoming phone calls or if somebody were to call the hotel and ask for them by name. No one would know they were registered. And the reason we enter it as code blue is so the folks in security and other hotel personnel would be able to get in contact with the guest in case of emergency.”
Security records indicated that Mahler’s room had been visited several times by hotel officers, who requested that the occupants please reduce the noise level and stop disturbing other guests.
Bynum verified that the two vehicles handled by the valet parking service had been a 2007 dark blue Jaguar and a green-and-white van marked as a taxi. The license numbers matched information showing they were the ones driven by David Mahler and Atticus King.
While Vicki Bynum visited one hotel, Tom Small made a longer trip to another one. He drove to Newport Beach and arrived at the Island Hotel, just before seven o’clock that morning.
Small initially contacted desk manager Greg Squires and showed him the recent mug shot of Mahler taken at the Hollywood Station during the booking process. Squires’s face lit up with recognition, not so much from Mahler’s May visit to the hotel, but from last night’s television news program that had covered the arrest. The desk manager escorted Small to an office, where the detective met security officer Jonathon Thompson, who described his duties as assisting guests with hospitality services, in addition to being responsible for safety and security of patrons, as well as staff. Both employees recalled that Mahler had arrived quite late on May 24 in a “blue expensive vehicle.” He had been accompanied by a “thin, blond girl.” They also had observed the couple teaming up with a husky, bald man, who arrived in a separate car.
Another matter had stuck in the officer’s memory for a very sound reason. He said that Mahler and the girl with him had a “violent altercation” in their room. Security personnel had made several visits up there to quiet the situation, and Mahler had trashed the room. As a result, Mahler and his friend had been asked to leave the hotel.
Small asked to have a look at tapes made by hotel security cameras on or about May 24. The trio reviewed the videos and found a segment that Small had hoped for. Grainy color images showed David Mahler with a woman, presumably Kristin, at the check-in desk. An inviting bowl of apples could be seen on the countertop. A burly, balding man wearing a Hawaiian shirt entered the scene. The trio appeared to have a conversation with the check-in clerk in the silent tape. Then, as they walked into the expansive lobby, Mahler put his left arm around the woman’s shoulders in what appeared to be a show of affection. All three of them went to an elevator and entered it.
Hotel records showed that Mahler had checked in at twelve thirty, Thursday morning, but not under his own name. The room had been assigned to someone named George Goldberg (pseudonym), who had presented a gift certificate issued by a local automobile dealer. It covered the cost of the room for one night.
It didn’t take Small long to find that Goldberg was a businessman who lived a short distance from the hotel. In a subsequent interview, Goldberg would acknowledge an arrangement to meet Mahler at the Newport Beach Marriott Hotel on the evening of Wednesday, May 23. Goldberg had arrived at about seven thirty to entertain another man, a client of Mahler’s. Three hours later, at about ten thirty, Mahler showed up, accompanied by a woman he called Kristi.
Describing himself as Mahler’s commodities broker, Goldberg estimated he and David had been linked in that business for about six months. They had conducted at least two or three transactions per week, by telephone, during that time.
According to Goldberg, after Mahler and the woman had made their appearance, all four of them sat around a table for about two hours. Mahler and the client immersed themselves in a business discussion, but Goldberg had paid little attention to what they were saying. Casually chatting with Kristi, he heard her say that she used to work at a couple of restaurants in Newport.
When the business discussion ended, the client left. Goldberg told Mahler he had reserved a room for him at the nearby Island Hotel. He led the way in his car, while Mahler and Kristi followed in the Jaguar. When they arrived, he went to the check-in desk with them and produced a certificate for a free night. A local auto sales dealer had given it to Goldberg. To use it, Goldberg registered for the room in his name. Mahler, Goldberg said, had aggressively tried to convince the clerk to upgrade them to a suite, but he had failed. Goldberg had gone up the elevator with them, talked in the room for fifteen or twenty minutes, and then left to drive to his nearby home.
In regard to Kristi, Goldberg had the impression that Mahler “liked her a lot.” But sometime Friday morning, Mahler had called him. “I remember that he was angered or upset. And he said, ‘We got to get this bitch out of here. I hate her and I don’t want to pay for a cab or a limo.’”
The turn of events had surprised Goldberg. Asked why, he said that Mahler had privately confided something in their conversation at the hotel. He had said that he loved her.
Additional footage from outdoor cameras showed Mahler’s arrival in the blue Jaguar with Kristin. Later she could be seen alone in the lobby. Jonathon Thompson could recall that part of the sequence quite well, since he had been standing only a short distance away from Kristin. He told Small that she had appeared distraught. In his recollection, she met a male
in the lobby and left with him in a taxi. He had formed the opinion that Mahler had left her stranded.
Upon returning to Hollywood from her trip to the LAX Marriott, Vicki Bynum joined Wendi Berndt to have a look at the Cole Crest house. While observing criminalists going methodically through the rooms, the two women decided to search for the single bullet that, in Donnie Van Develde’s story, had killed Kristin Baldwin.
Thinking that it might have hit the fireplace, Bynum sifted through the ashes but couldn’t locate it. She later said, “It appeared to me that he had burned some clothing in there, probably things that belonged to the victim. The cleaning materials certainly indicated that someone had tried to scrub away evidence at [the] crime scene. It sure wasn’t because he was a neat person. This guy was a pig.”
In the master bathroom, both women were struck by the picture of Al Pacino that Mahler had chosen to hang on a wall over the spa tub. Bynum later said, “Almost every thug, gangster, or doper fancies himself to be like Tony Montana, the role Pacino played in Scarface. Mahler is no exception. He runs around with the white robe open, with his little—his nonman-hood exposed, you know. There was some mention of him walking around naked all the time. He thinks he is Tony Montana, but he’s not. And he lives in his fantasy drug-gangster world. What kind of a middle-aged person who has been to law school wants a picture of Scarface over their bathtub?”
Tom Small and Vicki Bynum teamed up again before noon on that Monday and paid a visit to the Clara Shortridge Foltz Criminal Justice Center, better known as the Criminal Courts Building, in downtown Los Angeles. In the district attorney’s office on the seventeenth floor, they met with Deputy District Attorney (DDA) Cathryn Brougham in the Major Crimes Division. After reading their written report and discussing the Mahler case with them, Brougham filed one count of murder, a violation of Penal Code Section 187 (a), and one count of assault with a firearm, a violation of P.C. Section 245 (a) (2) against David A. Mahler. Another count would later be added: P.C. Section 120022.53 (d), personal use of a firearm. Now, with the charges made official, Mahler would be required to remain in jail until an arraignment.
Both detectives understood the difference between securing charges against Mahler and providing enough evidence to convince a jury of his guilt. Information they had accumulated so far probably wouldn’t even persuade jurors to agree on a verdict of involuntary manslaughter. The body hadn’t been found, no murder weapon had been located, and blood evidence hadn’t yet been matched to any victim. The statements of Karl Norvik and Donnie Van Develde might be eviscerated by a sharp defense attorney. Mahler could be portrayed in court as incapable of forming intent to kill, due to the influence of drugs and alcohol. His erratic behavior might be characterized as mental illness.
Still facing a mountain of obstacles and a staggering workload, Small and Bynum returned to the grind that same afternoon.
Tom Small, back at the Hollywood Station, prepared to interview Karl Norvik, who had agreed to drive in from Orange County.
Small hadn’t expected search teams to find any trace of a victim in the desert near Barstow. Still, he felt a sense of disappointment. Maybe Mahler had lied about Kristin being taken to that remote area, but Small’s intuition convinced him the tale held some elements of truth.
After filing a missing persons report on Kristin Baldwin, he teletyped a message and sent it statewide throughout California, Arizona, and Nevada. To be certain it reached the Barstow area, he sent it again to the Barstow Police Department (BPD), the San Bernardino County Sheriff’s Department, and the California Highway Patrol (CHP).
MESSAGE FROM LAPD HOLLYWOOD HOMICIDE—6-4-07
This agency is investigating a homicide of a Jane Doe whom it is believed died from a GSW. (Author’s note: gunshot wound) The victim has not been found and was likely transported from the murder scene by the suspect(s). The investigation has revealed that the likely victim may be Kristin Baldwin, AKA Kristin Means. She is described to be a F/White, blonde hair, blue eyes, 5’5”, 115 with a dob 05/06/69. The victim was wearing what was described to be white sheer pants with an unknown top. Baldwin is currently a missing person. Any information regarding this individual should be forwarded to the LAPD Hollywood Homicide Unit, Detectives Small or Bynum.
CHAPTER 21
A MATTER OF PERFECT TIMING
In the community of Simi Valley, beyond the northwestern border of Los Angeles County, Kristin’s stepfather Peter Means received a call from Robin Henson, who sounded distraught. In recent days, they had exchanged text messages and telephone conversations asking each other if they had heard from Kristin. Robin now told Peter that she had been contacted by the Los Angeles Police Department about an investigation. A missing persons report had been filed, due to statements made by a tip they had received.
Another call came on Monday, June 4, this one was from Detective Wendi Berndt. She asked Means if he would be willing to answer a few questions.
Berndt and a lieutenant traveled more than twenty miles to Simi Valley and arrived after three o’clock that afternoon. Always a gracious host, Peter invited them into his immaculate, comfortable home. A remarkably unflappable, poised individual, Peter managed to hide his distress and fear of a worst-case scenario.
Answering their questions, he told them of Kristin’s background, her ten years in Hawaii, and a few men she had dated. He clarified his role as her stepfather, and explained that they had an excellent relationship. Kristin, he said, had recently been living in a guest room at the home of a businessman who produced films. “The place was pretty dumpy, and she was trying to clean it up for him. He is elderly, spends a lot of time in bed, and has an adult son who also lives there. They needed some help. I think that he had been a porn producer.”
Berndt wanted to know when Means had last heard from her. He told of receiving a message on his cell phone about ten days earlier, on Friday, May 25. She had said, “I’m at the Island Hotel in Newport Beach. Can you give me a call when you have time?” He had tried unsuccessfully to call her back.
“Were you normally in regular contact with her?”
“I usually heard from Kristin at least every couple of weeks. She almost never answered her cell phone. I’d call and leave a message, and she would get hold of me sooner or later. Probably like most young women, she would look at the name and say, ‘Oh, it’s just Dad. I’ll get back to him when I can.’”
“Do you know if she was with anyone in Newport Beach?”
Peter did not. He had not yet heard the name David Mahler. And he had no idea how she had returned.
When bodies are found, police agencies often rely on dental records to identify the remains. Wendi Berndt tactfully asked Peter if he could provide dental records for Kristin, and he agreed to seek them out.
Before Berndt and the lieutenant left, Peter Means provided them with a photo of Kristin, much better than the mug shot they had been using. This one depicted her in Hawaii, making the well-known hand signal with thumb and little finger extended while all three other fingers fold like a fist. Its friendly meaning is “hang loose.”
In Los Angeles, Detectives Vicki Bynum and Larry Cameron visited the LAPD Scientific Investigation Division to view footage recovered from the Cole Crest neighbor’s outdoor security camera. What they saw quickened their pulses.
The tape, transferred to a compact disc, included dates and detailed timing of recorded events, down to the hour, minutes, and seconds.
The first clip showed Mahler’s 2007 Jaguar backing out of the garage on Sunday morning, May 27, at 06:21:05. This corresponded perfectly with information that he had left Cole Crest that morning and driven to the LAX Marriott.
The next clip showed the Jaguar returning to the Cole Crest garage at 12:34 P.M., on Monday, May 28. This, too, fit the time frames of previous information. The next event caught the detectives’ instant attention. Just six minutes after the 2007 Jaguar pulled into the garage, the black 1999 Jaguar could be seen backing out, turning around, and bein
g backed into the garage. This would suggest that Mahler had gone inside and dragged the dead body from his bedroom into the garage. Dropping her near the side entry door, he had decided it would be easier to put her into the trunk by backing the vehicle into the garage.
A third clip showed the newer Jaguar pulling into the garage four days later, on Memorial Day, Thursday, May 31, at 1:54 A.M. Bynum knew David Mahler and Stacy Tipton had checked out of the Standard Hotel on the previous day, Wednesday, so the puzzle pieces seemed to fall into place. Apparently, the body had been lying in the house four full days.
Twenty-three minutes after the newer Jaguar arrived, the 1999 Jaguar pulled out in a forward direction at 2:17 A.M., and vanished into the darkness. It remained absent the rest of the night, and didn’t return until seven fifteen in the morning. Four hours and fifty-eight minutes had elapsed. This time Mahler didn’t back into the garage, but rather headed directly in.
To Bynum, the implications couldn’t have been clearer. Mahler had taken a trip of nearly five hours and disposed of Kristin’s body. If Mahler’s statements of “hearsay” indicating she had been dropped off in the desert near Barstow were true, the timing would be just about perfect.
This information prompted the detectives to contact the provider of Mahler’s cell phone service. Their records of calls made and received during those time frames might reveal exactly where he had driven. It is not common knowledge among the general public that locations from which calls are made can be traced later through documentation that identifies cell phone towers used to transmit the calls. Unfortunately for this investigation, the transmission records had been deleted.