Laurel Page and Dennis Bowen, a young engaged couple staying on a boat moored near the Splendour, dined at Doug’s that night and formed the same impressions as Ryan during their encounters with the Wagner group. “She was very nice, very personable,” recalls Bowen. “But Wagner was pretty whacked.” Page had a chance to express to Natalie how much she appreciated her work, “and she thanked me very much and was nice and friendly to me… she was just approachable and was just—God, she really was something.” As the evening progressed, Page noticed, “Robert Wagner was really out of it, swaying, just so drunk… could have, in his condition, fallen on the floor. Really drunk.”
Natalie expressed several times to people in the bar or restaurant that night that she was missing her daughters. When R.J. sent their first waitress, Christina Quinn, to the small bathroom to check on Natalie because she had been away from the table for a long time, Quinn walked in on a “very tender moment” between Natalie and a young girl of nine or so, almost the age of Natasha. They were sitting in front of a big, lighted mirror. “Natalie was behind the young girl and looking into the mirror, stroking the girl’s hair, telling her what a pretty young girl she was, and how lucky she was to be a young girl. Honoring the little girl and her childhood, telling her how important childhood was, how valuable that time was. It was a really nice thing in my mind and heart.”
Laurel Page wandered into the ladies’ room before or after Quinn, noticing Natalie with the same little girl and another child, finding herself touched in the same way Quinn was. “Natalie was just sitting there combing their hair, the way a mother would comb—the right hand has the comb and your left hand goes over the hair—smiling, looking in their faces. I watched her comb their hair for a while. Because it was in the bathroom, so private, I was able to have a moment with her. It was a really maternal, tender moment. I’m glad I got to see that. She was reflecting on her daughters.” Or, possibly, her own lost childhood.
Mileski would recall Natalie inviting the young girl to her table afterward, braiding her hair—the way Mud used to do for Natalie, when she was the Pigtail Kid. Dawn Powers, the little girl, felt a sense of “peace” from Natalie, a serenity and kindness.
When an accordion player stopped by the Wagners’ table to play a song on his accordion for Natalie—the haunting “Lara’s Theme” from Dr. Zhivago—it seemed, another diner would recall for police, “to make her happy,” perhaps reminding Natalie of her Fahd and his balalaika.
Such poignancy was fleeting. A while later, Mileski would say, “she was fooling around, it seemed like, with Christopher more.” As both Mileski and Quinn would tell police, Natalie suddenly got up and threw a wine glass at the wall next to the Wagners’ table, “and I figured there was a spat going on,” states Mileski. Mileski also felt it was a bid for attention. “Everybody kind of stopped and looked, is what I thought she wanted.” Quinn considered it a “human” reaction of emotion.
Walken would later tell police it was “my fault. I recall that we were making a toast while drinking. At the conclusion of this toast I threw my glass to the floor as I always do, and I remember Natalie, and I think everybody else, did the same.” Walken told police Natalie made the remark that she was Russian, and Russians did this.
Quinn and Mileski stand by their statements that Natalie was the only one to smash a wine glass that night. “I’m surprised Walken would say that,” remarks Quinn.
Susan Bernard, an Orange County resident who was having dinner with a girlfriend at Doug’s, told investigators she saw Natalie break the glass, and a second glass, which she observed, from a distance, as “a touch of drama.”
The restaurant manager, Don Whiting, now deceased, corroborated to police the waitresses’ version of Natalie smashing the glass, mentioning that another glass was broken by accident. “He thought at the time there was a possible problem between Robert Wagner and his wife,” as Duane Rasure, the lead investigator, wrote in Whiting’s statement. “He remembers a glass was broken, possibly thrown.” Dawn Powers, whose hair Natalie braided earlier, noticed, “a fuss going on” or “a commotion” at the Wagner table before the glass was broken. “There was a lot of commotion” at the Wagner table before the glass was broken. “There was a lot of commotion at their table that night.” Rasure’s partner, Roy Hamilton, noted in his report that Whiting told them Wagner was “irate” with Natalie.
The escalating tension seemed to build to a crescendo around ten o’clock, when R.J. got up to leave the restaurant. Natalie was reluctant to go back to the Splendour, Davern would say in a later interview. She had trouble zipping up her jacket, Quinn told the police, and had a hard time walking, Mileski observed. Whiting, the host/manager, noticed R.J. and Natalie in a private tête-à-tête as R.J. put his pea coat around Natalie, shrouding her, Mileski felt, from the stares of other diners. “It was sprinkling out, and he put his coat over her head and they walked out, and she smacked into this wood tiki pole at the front door.”
Both Mileski and Whiting were so concerned about the Wagner party’s level of intoxication, and the slick weather, they made separate calls to Kurt Craig, who was at the dinghy dock in the Harbor Patrol office. Mileski recalls, “I said, ‘They’re coming out, they’re screwed up, just keep an eye on them.’”
Craig, who went off-duty at 10:30, recalled for police a call from Whiting at 10:00 saying the four were “very drunk,” with Whiting advising him to be sure they got aboard the Splendour safely. Craig watched them at the dock as they all stepped into the Wagners’ dinghy, when he heard Natalie scream. “He thought she may have been drunk and was unhappy with something that happened at the restaurant.” A shoreboat driver named William Peterson, who was near the dock, heard Natalie yell and saw her stumble as she tried to get into the dinghy, with Davern assisting her.
Davern would later say in a British documentary, “We got back to the boat and Natalie’s in a giggling state by now, talking with Christopher and being pretty chummy. And it was beginning to upset R.J. to the point where he had to explode.”
Walken’s and R.J.’s statements to the police indicate all four went to the main salon as soon as they returned to the Splendour, where, Davern would say in later media interviews, Natalie lit candles, he and R.J. drank scotch, and they opened another bottle of wine.
What occurred next would set in motion the tragic denoument of the lost weekend.
Walken would be the first and only one of the three men to disclose to the police, in the immediate aftermath of Natalie’s drowning, that there was an altercation in the main salon. In his first interview with authorities, Walken volunteered that he and R.J. got into a “small beef” soon after they got to the salon that night, and that Natalie seemed “disturbed” afterward.
When police asked Davern, at the time of his original statement, if there was an argument, he told authorities he’d “rather not say.”
R.J. mentioned nothing about an argument in his first statement.
Walken elaborated on the “beef” between himself and R.J. during his second interview with police. Duane Rasure, the lead investigator, recorded Walken’s expanded account as: “They had all been drinking, and they had one of those conversations going where you kind of put your cards on the table. R.J. was making statements and complaining that [Natalie] was away from home too much, that she was away from the kids, and it was hurting their home life. Walken stated he also got involved in this discussion, supporting [Natalie’s] view: that she was an actress, she was an important person; this was her life. He suddenly realized he was violating his own view about getting involved in an argument between man and wife.”
The investigator’s record of Walken’s account continued, “[Walken] stepped outside for some air, and when he returned everybody was apologizing, particularly he and Robert Wagner, and everything seemed fine. He further recalled that about this time, when Natalie left the salon and went down to her bedroom, he thought she was tired of listening to them.” Rasure’s partner, Roy Hamilton, wro
te in his notes: “Walken said he thought Natalie went to bed, and that she thought he and R.J. were a bunch of assholes.”
When Davern was interviewed a second time by police, in the presence of attorneys hired by R.J., he alluded to the argument: “[Davern] recalled that R.J. and Natalie got into a discussion about her being gone, and how R.J. missed her. During this discussion between them, Chris Walken entered into it and supported Natalie’s view. Davern felt R.J. was being upset over this, and he recalled Chris getting up and going outside for a while. At about this time, Natalie went to the master stateroom to go to bed.”
In R.J.’s second interview with police, he did not acknowledge the argument until prodded, then saying merely, “There was a discussion about [Natalie] being away from home and the kids so much.” Sheriff’s investigators noted R.J.’s full explanation as, “Natalie went down to bed. And at this point in time, [Wagner] recalled Chris Walken stepping outside on the deck for a while. When Chris returned inside the salon, they continued talking.”
In the years that followed, Davern eventually would say publicly, in a series of different but consistent interviews, that R.J.’s argument with Walken was more heated than Davern told the police. “He took a wine bottle, smashed it on the salon table, and said to Chris, ‘What do you want to do? Fuck my wife?’ ” Davern said in the British documentary. “Well, at that point, Chris knew it was time to leave the room, because if he didn’t, it could’ve turned into a big fight. Natalie was so devastated the way R.J. acted that she just got up and went right to her stateroom.” In Vanity Fair, Davern would recall that Natalie responded, “R.J., I’m not standing for this a minute longer,” and left the salon for the master stateroom, slamming the door.
Deputy R. W. Kroll of the Avalon Sheriff’s Department, the first officer to step inside the Splendour after R.J. reported Natalie as missing, wrote in his official notes, at 6:30 A.M. Sunday [November 29], “I observed pieces of a broken wine bottle laying on the deck carpeting of the main salon. I also observed partially eaten food, empty wine bottles, and clothing scattered about the cabin.” R.J. would tell Rasure, the chief investigator, the broken wine bottle was “probably from the rough seas.”
Within forty-five minutes to an hour of Natalie’s retreat to her stateroom after R.J.’s explosive argument with Walken, Natalie was missing from the Splendour.
By piecing together the collective police statements of R.J., Walken, and Davern, the approximate time R.J. first became aware Natalie was off the boat was sometime between 10:45 and midnight. This is based, first, on the fact that everyone got back to the Splendour from Doug’s Harbor Reef between 10:00 and 10:30, as the harbormaster’s records reflect. Second, in accordance with unanimous accounts that “the beef” between Walken and R.J. happened quickly, which all three men on the boat assert provoked Natalie to go straight to bed, she would have been in her stateroom by 10:30 to 10:45.
R.J.’s first statement to police was that “Natalie went to bed, he went to her bedroom, and shortly thereafter they noticed that she and the dinghy were missing.” In his second statement, R.J. said that after his “discussion” with Walken, Natalie went to her bedroom and Walken stood outside on the deck for “a while.” He and Walken then talked for “fifteen minutes,” and then he went to Natalie’s bedroom to check on her and she and the dinghy were gone. By either account, R.J. indicated to police that Natalie was missing either within moments, or no longer than a half-hour to forty-five minutes, after she retired.
Walken’s first statement was that he was on the deck for “a few minutes” after his “beef” with R.J., when Natalie went to bed. He “next remembered the captain making a remark that the dinghy was gone; at about the same time, they noticed that Natalie was gone.” Walken thought it might be around midnight. In Walken’s second statement, he repeated that Natalie went to bed as soon as R.J. got upset, “[and] the next thing [Walken] recalled was that within a short time the captain made mention that the dinghy was missing. At about the same time, Robert Wagner checked the bedroom and observed that Natalie was missing.” Walken’s timeline placed Natalie missing from the boat within “a short time” after she went to bed, to no later than midnight.
Davern told police in his first interview that Natalie went to bed, “and it was after this he noticed the Zodiac [dinghy] was gone.” Davern’s follow-up statement related that Natalie went to bed, and “after some time passed, R.J. went to see where Natalie was. When they noticed she was gone, at about the same time they noticed the Zodiac was gone.” Davern’s statements imply it was not long after Natalie went to her stateroom that he or R.J. noticed she was gone.
Since Natalie was in her bedroom by roughly 10:45, and Walken, Davern, and R.J. all indicated to police it was within a window of a few moments to forty-five minutes or so after she went to bed that they realized she was missing, Natalie must have gone off the boat between 10:45 and 11:30 P.M.—no later than midnight, per Walken.
According to Sheriff’s records, Warren Archer, the diner from the Vantage who shared a bottle of champagne with the Wagners that night, told investigators he radioed R.J. on the Splendour when he got back to his boat from dinner (sometime around eleven) to invite the Wagner party to the Vantage for drinks. Archer told investigators R.J. said no, and he heard noise in the background giving him the impression that R.J. and Natalie “were arguing or fighting.” Archer told a shoreboat operator later that night that he had noticed the Wagners’ dinghy tied to the rear of the Splendour, which was moored thirty yards from Archer’s boat.
Shortly after eleven P.M., John Payne, the owner of a boat called the Capricorn, moored approximately eighty feet from the Splendour, thought he heard a woman crying for help. He awakened his fiancée, Marilyn Wayne, a commodities broker whose eight-year-old son, Anthony, was on the boat with them. Wayne, who slept with the windows open, even in freezing weather, distinctly heard a woman’s voice coming from the ocean. “The cry was, ‘Somebody please help me, I’m drowning,’ over and over again.”
Wayne yelled to her son to ask the time, since the boat was pitch black and he had a lighted digital watch. They both remember it as exactly 11:05 P.M. Wayne, her son, Anthony, and Payne all heard what they described as a drunken man or men’s voices respond to the woman’s screams for help, saying mockingly, “Oh, don’t worry, we’ll help you,” and “Hold your hat, we’re coming to get you.” Wayne found it puzzling. “When you hear somebody saying, ‘We’re coming over to get you,’ you say, ‘Okay, I guess maybe the person who’s yelling for help is with that party.’ But she kept yelling for help.”
While Wayne’s fiancé was downstairs on the Capricorn calling the harbormaster, Wayne was on deck “yelling out, ‘Where are you? I’ll come and help you, keep talking…’ ” When no one responded to their call to the harbormaster’s office at Two Harbors, Payne and Wayne grew increasingly nervous. “He’d keep yelling up to me, ‘Is she still yelling for help?’ and I’d say, ‘Yes, hurry up, call somebody else.’”
Payne called Avalon, the other side of the island, where he was told they were sending a helicopter right over. While Payne and Wayne waited on deck for the helicopter, Wayne recalls, “we turned on the top light on the top of the mast to try to scan the area, trying to find whoever it was that was in the water. It was windy and very, very cold and the water was so choppy. But I had a bead on where the cries for help were coming from. Clearly, it was somewhere around our nine o’clock position, we being in the middle, and it was coming from the Splendour.”
Wayne’s son, Anthony, remembers his mother calling out to him every few minutes, asking for the time: “It was really, really rough out, and this woman was screaming, it was just dismal.”
When the helicopter failed to arrive in fifteen minutes, “my first reaction was to jump in and swim around,” states Wayne. “And John’s reasoning was, ‘A, you’ll last about ten minutes before hypothermia. B, you’re swimming around in a pitch-black isthmus and you don’t know where the sound is echo
ing from. C, you’re a single parent, and D, if you find the person, purely by accident, they’re gonna grab hold of you and the two of you will go down.’ ” Neither Wayne nor Payne could see anyone in the water, nor did they see a dinghy.
The couple considered getting in their motorized dinghy to search, but “we had unfortunately deflated the dinghy before going to bed, because we were leaving at 5:30 the next morning to go sail back to Newport, and it would have taken a good half hour with a foot pump to inflate the dinghy.”
Payne and Wayne kept the light illuminated on top of their boat, “that we kept turning around, just scanning the water, that would have been a bead for the helicopter to hone in on. But they never came. And the harbor patrol never picked up the phone.”
At 11:25 P.M., the woman’s cries, “Somebody please help me, I’m drowning,” stopped. “I didn’t really sleep the rest of the night,” recalls Wayne. “And John was downstairs, still on the phone.”
The telephone call slips from the Sheriff’s Department reveal that both John Payne and Marilyn Wayne contacted investigators when they learned that Natalie Wood drowned sometime that Saturday night or early Sunday, certain it was Natalie they heard screaming for help. Wayne understood why no one else on neighboring boats heard the cries. “The only reason we heard her is because we had a silent generator and I sleep with all the windows open.”
Wayne’s son, Anthony, would remember, “My mom was just quite upset about it.” Payne would be haunted by unanswered questions. “One of the major questions I have is how is it that the people on her boat—Robert, Christopher—how come they didn’t hear her screaming? They were closer to her than anybody else.”
R.J.’s first call to report that Natalie was missing was not until 1:30 A.M. Sunday, when he used the hailing and frequency channel 16 on the ship’s radio, saying, in a slurred voice, “This is the Splendour, we need help. Somebody’s missing from the boat.”
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