Killers for Hire

by Tori Richards

  Then he attacked Saris’ case.

  “Where’s his alibi? The defense could’ve called any witness they wanted to prove an alibi for Mr. Goodwin,” he said.

  Next came a retelling of the lawsuit and Goodwin’s numerous threats against Thompson. These again went up on the large screen. He talked about Goodwin’s escape to the Caribbean and his intricate financial maneuvering that left him with $500,000 in an offshore account. Lastly, he ridiculed the robbery theory.

  Alan Jackson in court

  photo by Gene Blevins

  “The last thing you want to do if you thieve a house is to ride a bicycle … so let’s go thieve a house, let’s go when everyone is home!” Jackson said sarcastically. “The last thing a robber or burglar wants is to run into the residents. But these idiots, according to the defendant, go up at 6:05 AM.”

  Saris finished up as she began, a dynamo packaged in a small frame who vehemently believed in Goodwin’s innocence.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, he is telling you the Hollywood version of events … the truth of what happened in this case, we don’t know. The killers of Mickey and Trudy Thompson have never been caught, identified or arrested. They want it to be this man—why? Because someone has to pay. There is a rip in the fabric of society when someone is murdered; it screams out for justice …You can call this man a jerk, an egomaniac and a braggart, but you have to prove he’s a murderer.”

  Saris pointed out that there was no evidence linking Goodwin to the killers and no evidence showing that he committed the crimes: no phone calls, payout or documentation.

  When the closing arguments are finished, the attorneys pack up their files and head back to their respective offices to wait for word from the jury. It could take days or weeks, or, in the case of O.J. Simpson, a few hours. This time it was three and a half complete working days spread out over a five-day period, wrapping up the morning of Jan. 4.

  Jackson called Lillienfeld, waking him up. The detective was out all night at a murder scene and had only been home for a few hours to get some sleep.

  “I am just glad they reached a verdict,” Lillienfeld said upon arriving at the courthouse. “I don’t want to have to try this thing again.”

  Danny Thompson raced up the 605 Freeway toward the courthouse, car radio tuned to the news, just like 19 years ago. The same hollow feeling was in the pit of his stomach.

  The courtroom was standing room only. Goodwin walked in with his trademark reading glasses perched at the end of his nose. Half the female jurors were crying, and one held her head in her hands. The atmosphere was extremely tense. The only sense of serenity came from Goodwin’s nemesis Lillienfeld, who sat in the front row, leaning forward with his chin on his hands and a half smile on his face.

  Schwartz announced that she would read the verdict. Hundreds of witnesses, thousands of clues and untold investigative hours later, Goodwin’s fate hung on just four sentences.

  For the crime of murder in the first degree against Mickey Thompson, the jury finds Michael Frank Goodwin guilty.

  For the crime of murder in the first degree against Trudy Thompson, the jury finds Michael Frank Goodwin guilty.

  The special circumstance of lying in wait is found to be true.

  The special circumstance of multiple murder is found to be true.

  Under California law, it meant life in prison. Goodwin shook his head and looked down at the counsel table, mouthing the words, “I didn’t do it.”

  Court observers sat in a stunned silence. Campbell was dry-eyed by now and stared straight ahead with her jaw clenched. One of the jurors continued to cry, looking at Goodwin.

  Saris later bemoaned the fact that she couldn’t present all the evidence during trial.

  “There were other suspects in this case and the judge did not let us tell the jury about it,” she said. “If the jurors had heard all the facts, they would’ve come to a different conclusion.”

  The victory was not surprising, Jackson said.

  “I wasn’t shocked because I knew the evidence was there,” he said. “It was an enormous sense of relief and satisfaction after 19 years.”

  Added Dixon: “I wish Elena would answer me this question. He told everyone he was going to kill Thompson. Why is it a surprise?”

  Alan Jackson & Patrick Dixon (L to R)

  photo by Gene Blevins

  Several of the jurors spoke to the media, saying the evidence was overwhelming. They were bothered by the missing $20,000, Goodwin’s over-the-top personality and the death threats. Acquittal was never discussed during deliberations; they knew he was good for something. In the end, it was the jury instructions regarding conspiracy and motive that did Goodwin in, they said.

  Lillienfeld stood off to the side talking to Jackson, uncomfortable being part of the limelight.

  “I’m happy,” he said simply. “We got a bad guy.”

  Chapter 13: The Finish Line

  Michael Goodwin in court

  photo by Gene Blevins

  The day Goodwin was convicted Lillienfeld worked well into the night, making it about two days since he had any real sleep. The verdict attracted national media attention, bringing more potential witnesses out of the woodwork. The case was still open because the shooters were out there somewhere, so Lillienfeld kept working. Throughout the rest of the week, he continued to chase down his leads—about 20 in all. Most of them led nowhere, but a few looked promising.

  Lillienfeld speculated that the shooters had East Coast connections and were likely introduced to Goodwin by his brother, Marc, who lived in Miami at the time. The killers are probably back in Florida or possibly New York, Lillienfeld said.

  “I’m convinced they’re still alive,” he added.

  The day of Michael Goodwin’s sentencing finally arrived on March 1, 2007. Goodwin entered the courtroom wearing a dark, sage-colored suit with his reading glasses. He glanced briefly at the crowd and grimaced.

  Judge Schwartz told the packed courtroom that the evidence was overwhelming and the jury verdict proper. Then she allowed statements by Collene Campbell and Goodwin himself. Lillienfeld sat in the jury box, directly in the line of sight of his nemesis—boring a hole into Goodwin with his steady gaze. Goodwin couldn’t help but see the detective’s expression was like that of a Cheshire Cat. Satisfaction. Victory. Pleasure. Retribution. Good winning out over evil. A chess game of wits in which he, Lillienfeld, came out the winner. Not every murder case ends up that way.

  Goodwin started a rambling dissertation:

  “All I’m saying is that I have condolences for Mrs. Campbell and her family. I can’t apologize because I’m not guilty of the crime. I was convicted of being guilty, but that is different than being guilty. And truly, only myself and whoever really did it will ever know who did this crime. Nobody else will know but myself and whoever is really guilty. And this will be, I’m afraid, a never-ending story because we plan on appeals all the way through.

  “And hopefully the truth some time will come out. I believe we can get the exposure of witnesses that were bribed, threatened by the police that you don’t know about and that couldn’t come up in the trial. That the truth can come out and you’ll find out that I was not guilty. And hopefully we will also find the true killers,” he said.

  His words rang hollow; no one in that courtroom believed he was sorry that Thompson was dead. Though he was thinner, grayer and weaker, the same bold, cocky veneer was evident. Only this time it simmered just below the surface instead of erupting into a full-blown tirade.

  Schwartz was ready to wrap things up. It was the moment Campbell had been waiting for every night of her life since March 16, 1988. The judge imposed two sentences of life without parole, as mandated by state law. But the questioned remained: Would the terms be concurrent or consecutive? Schwartz took a breath and continued.

  “The court will find that because of the way these crimes were carried out—the premeditation, the deliberation, the separate acts committed on two helpless indi
viduals—the court has discretion in the matter but can think of nothing more than a consecutive sentence. Or nothing less than a consecutive sentence in this matter…the total sentence is life without parole plus life without parole.”

  Collene Campbell

  photo by Gene Blevins

  After the sentencing Campbell happily waved a racing flag as she spoke to the media outside the courthouse.

  “By gosh, we’ve never driven an endurance race like that,” she said, looking skyward toward heaven. Campbell had always insisted that Mickey and Trudy were guiding this case and now everyone else was starting to believe it too.

  “Thanks for being such a good brother and sister,” she said to her slain siblings. “I’ll be up there soon you guys, with this old face I can’t be down here too long. But boy did you put me through a long one. Love you guys, God bless you.”

  Lillienfeld allowed himself a brief victory lunch with the prosecutors and then started concentrating on his next murder case.

  “There are times when I doubted I’d get here, but it was never an option to give up,” he reflected.

  If the case hadn’t been filed this time around, Lillienfeld would have spent the rest of his days before retirement dogging Goodwin. With a hellish existence like that, maybe Goodwin was better off behind bars.

  Chapter 14: Aftermath

  It was about six weeks after Goodwin’s sentencing, and Mark Lillienfeld was in a corner booth at an Orange County diner ordering his standard breakfast of oatmeal, whole wheat toast and iced tea. He’d been working nonstop since Goodwin’s trial, and it was the first time since then that he’d allowed himself to sit down in a restaurant for a leisurely meal.

  “I’m supposed to be at an autopsy now, but my partner is going instead so I can be at this breakfast with you,” he volunteered. “I’ve been doing well….a little tired, so I’m going to take a vacation at the end of this month.”

  Whether he liked it or not, the reluctant hero had been quite a star. A week after the Goodwin case wrapped, Lillienfeld had a major coup with his second most famous case: a defendant in a cop killing was extradited from Mexico after a lengthy legal battle that reached all the way to the White House and the Mexican Supreme Court.

  Armando Garcia was accused of killing fellow Sheriff’s Deputy David March during a 2002 traffic stop, then fleeing to his native Mexico to avoid prosecution. An international incident ensued as Congress, then-Governor Arnold Schwarzenegger and even President George W. Bush opened a new debate on the illegal alien issue: the United States’ inability to extradite suspects facing the death penalty or life in prison here. Mexico’s Supreme Court reversed its ruling regarding life in prison, and two years later—on Jan. 11, 2007—Garcia stood inside a Los Angeles County courtroom for an arraignment.

  Six weeks later, Lillienfeld started trial on a case involving another murdered Los Angeles County sheriff’s deputy. The defendant was convicted and received a death sentence. Then Armando Garcia pleaded guilty in a deal to avoid the death penalty.

  “I’ve had quite a good run here lately,” Lillienfeld admitted.

  Meanwhile, “America’s Most Wanted” had broadcast the Goodwin case after the conviction, and it brought a whole new round of tips regarding the shooters. Most didn’t pan out, but there were several that looked promising, and Lillienfeld scheduled a trip to the East Coast to follow up on leads.

  “There are the other two guys running around and I’d like to prosecute them. In a way, Goodwin still kind of got away with it because those two guys are out there. That bugs me.”

  Goodwin had wanted to spend his last days on earth at a prison in the beach resort town of San Luis Obispo nicknamed “The Country Club.” But Lillienfeld didn’t like that and wanted something more notorious, like Folsom, San Quentin or Pelican Bay.

  To help this decision along, the detective sent a letter to prison officials outlining Goodwin’s perceived evils. Lillienfeld started with the murders of the two unidentified men in the 1960s, graduating to Goodwin’s stormy personality and tumultuous relationship with Mickey and the murders, the failed assassination of Jeffrey Coyne, the bank fraud conviction, his escape to the Caribbean and the pathological way he hid assets.

  “He isn’t beyond plotting someone’s death from prison and that includes mine. If you’re asking me whether I plan on keeping tabs on him for the rest of his life in prison, the answer is yes,” Lillienfeld said. “His lack of liberty doesn’t hold him back from enjoying life—reading, talking on phone to people and spreading his venom.”

  Lillienfeld answered a cell phone call and checked his watch. The breakfast was winding down.

  He had been assigned another murder case recently, and it was time to go back to work.

  As the old saying goes, crime doesn’t take a holiday. Lillienfeld’s 300-some cases were still waiting for a solution, the victims demanding justice from the hereafter. If he worked them as hard as he worked Goodwin, perhaps there would be a solution. But there are just so many hours in a day.

  Alan Jackson and Pat Dixon were not prepared to go away silently into the night. The next big Los Angeles celebrity murder case loomed on the horizon and they were prosecuting it. The trial of music mogul Phil Spector for the 2003 death of actress Lana Clarkson was scheduled to go to trial in two weeks and that didn’t leave much time for preparation. They would later win a conviction after two trials.

  “I don’t have time to revel in any glory at all, I’m up to my eyeballs in this case,” Jackson said at the time.

  Dixon said he wasn’t paying any attention to the media whirlwind surrounding Spector.

  “If you think about, ‘Oh my God this is Phil Spector or Goodwin, what will happen if I lose?’ you’d throw yourself into a tizzy and wouldn’t be able to do a damn thing.”

  Regarding Goodwin, Dixon offered this final thought: “Michael Goodwin is going to have to meet his maker and deal with that. He reminds me of the Woodman brothers, who were two of the defendants in the Yom Kippur murders who hired killers to murder their parents. They were greedy and wanted more. They are out of the same mold. When I first looked at this case, I immediately thought Goodwin reminded me of that.”

  Even with Spector looming large, Jackson’s mind still wandered back to the last two years of his life.

  “I think about Goodwin every single day. You know…I was on my way to work the other day and I passed by a county jail bus on the freeway. I was thinking to myself, ‘I wonder if Goodwin is on that bus?’”

  Jackson was unaware of Lillienfeld’s letter to the California Department of Corrections, and he perked up considerably when he heard about it.

  “Knowing that Mark Lillienfeld is on Goodwin’s shadow for the rest of his career, I can sleep better,” he said.

  This wasn’t the last Jackson heard from Lillienfeld. Besides becoming great friends, the detective would later testify in the Spector case because he assisted the lead detective for a brief time. And in addition, if Lillienfeld ever catches the Thompsons’ shooters, Jackson said he wants to be the one to file the case.

  Lillienfeld left that Orange County diner and stood in the parking lot, attempting to push Goodwin to the back of his mind and concentrate on more important things.

  “Except to you and a few other people, I never want to talk about this case again,” he said. Reveling past achievements is not something he’s comfortable with.

  “This is not fun for me, it doesn’t benefit my life. It wastes time that I’ll never get back again. People constantly say, ‘Oh, you’re that guy. I saw your name.’ I don’t want to be the guy who had the Mickey Thompson case. I have 320 other cases, and I don’t want to go through life being THAT guy.

  “I don’t want that being the first line in my friggin’ obituary that I was the guy who got Michael Goodwin.”

  Editor’s Note: Michael Goodwin now calls High Desert State Prison home—a dreary, gang-filled facility filled with mostly maximum security cons and located on the northern N
evada border. He arrived there on April 11, 2007, and Lillienfeld has called prison officials every month to monitor his nemesis, making sure none of those death threats are carried out. He still searches for the shooters.