by John Glatt
Both officers tried to engage the girls in conversation, to get as much information as they could.
“We’d ask questions,” said Jacobs, “and the younger daughter would focus her attention towards us. Give us eye contact. Answer our questions. The older one. Not so much. She was just all over the place. Her eyes were darting up at the ceiling. She was looking at her dad and just in awe . . . as if she was in worship of him. I kind of got the feelings these kids were like robots.”
When Lisa Campbell asked what grades they were in at school, they both replied in unison, “We’re home-schooled.”
Then, after about fifteen minutes, Phillip Garrido suddenly announced they had to leave. And as the two campus police officers had no real evidence to call in social workers, they had no alternative but to let them go.
After they left, Allyson Jacobs decided to call Phillip Garrido’s parole officer and tell him how strangely he was acting. For she was concerned that if he was supposed to be on medication, he obviously was not taking it and the two girls might be in danger.
So she telephoned parole agent Eddie Santos at the Concord parole office, and when the call went to voice mail she left a message.
“[Phillip Garrido] came in today with his two young daughters,” she told him, “and he was going on this schizophrenic rant. He was clearly unstable and I really think you should do a check on him. Maybe go to his house. Make sure his kids are okay, because they were a little off to me.”
It was late afternoon when parole agent Santos returned to his office and listened to Officer Jacobs’s voice message. He immediately called her back, but was told that she had left for the day.
So Santos asked his colleague Agent La Grassa to accompany him to 1554 Walnut Avenue, Antioch, to investigate further. When Santos rang the front doorbell at 6:00 P.M., Phillip Garrido answered, and was immediately detained and handcuffed by the front gate.
Then, while La Grassa guarded Garrido outside the house, Santos went in.
“Inside the residence,” the agent later wrote in his official report, “were Garrido’s wife, Nancy, and his elderly mother Mrs. Franzen.”
Santos then searched the entire house, but found no signs of anyone else. He drove Phillip Garrido to the Concord parole office for further questioning.
On the drive over, Garrido kept saying he had done nothing wrong. The two girls, he said, were his brother Ron’s daughters, and he had permission to take them with him to the Berkeley campus. After they’d returned to Antioch, he said one of their parents had collected them.
Back at the Concord parole office, Agent Santos reviewed Garrido’s file with his supervisor G. Sims. They accepted Garrido’s story about the girls being his nieces, never bothering to check it out with his older brother.
The parole officers determined that Garrido had not violated any of his parole conditions. For although he had a “no contact with minors” special condition, it did not apply, as he had no conviction involving underage children.
“Therefore,” reported Agent Santos, “we dropped Garrido back to his [residence].”
Garrido was then ordered to report back to the Concord parole office the following morning at 8:00 A.M., to discuss the Berkeley incident further.
37
“MY NAME IS JAYCEE LEE DUGARD”
At 8:00 A.M., on Wednesday, August 26, Officer Allyson Jacobs arrived at work, finding a message from parole agent Eddie Santos to call him as soon as possible. When he came on the line, he asked her to tell him exactly what had happened the day before with Phillip Garrido and the two young girls.
“So I went through the whole story from start to finish,” Jacobs recalled. “And when I got to the part of his two daughters, he says, ‘He doesn’t have any daughters.’ ”
On hearing this, Jacobs felt her stomach sink, wondering if they had let a dangerous kidnapper go and should have stopped him.
“Well,” she told the parole agent, “he had two daughters with him that day. They have his blue eyes. They were calling him Daddy.”
Then she told him how one of the girls had mentioned having a twenty-nine-year-old sister at home.
At the other end of the line, Agent Santos could see Phillip Garrido entering the parole office, followed by his wife, Nancy, and three young girls. He told Officer Jacobs he would look into the matter and put down the phone.
He then watched as Garrido signed in at the front lobby, and the four females he was with sat down. When Santos came out of his office and opened the lobby door, Garrido started walking toward him, gesturing for the women to follow.
“I instructed Garrido to stop and wait in the lobby,” Agent Santos later wrote in his report. “I asked the women to continue in and I escorted them to the conference room.”
Nancy and the three girls all sat together on one side of the conference table, facing the parole agent.
Then Agent Santos introduced himself and asked for their names.
“The adult female identified herself as Alyssa Franzen,” wrote Santos. “I asked the two female juveniles their names and Alyssa responded by saying that the younger child was named Starlit and was eleven years old. Alyssa then stated that the other juvenile was named Angel [and] was fourteen years old.”
Agent Santos asked who the girls’ parents were, and Alyssa immediately said that she was their mother. When Santos commented that she looked too young to be their mother, Alyssa started laughing, saying she gets that all the time. He then asked how old she was, and Alyssa said she was twenty-nine, giving her real date of birth of May 3, 1980.
He asked for her identification, and Alyssa said she had left it at home.
“When I asked her to spell her full name for me,” reported Santos, “she hesitated for a moment and out loud slowly spelled, ‘Alyssa Franzen.’ It was apparent she was having trouble trying to spell the first name.”
He then asked where she lived, and Alyssa replied that she and her daughters lived with various friends, occasionally staying at the Garridos’ house. But when Santos said he needed some personal details to confirm their identities, Alyssa became “extremely defensive” and “agitated,” demanding to know why she was being “interrogated.”
At that point Nancy Garrido broke into the conversation, demanding to know why he was interrogating them when they had done nothing wrong. Santos replied that he was not, but merely investigating an incident that happened with Phillip Garrido and the two girls the previous day on the Berkeley campus.
Alyssa said she knew Phillip Garrido had taken the two girls to the campus, and that she was aware he was a registered sex offender and on parole.
“I asked [her] if she knew what crime he committed,” Santos wrote in his report, “and she advised he kidnapped and raped a woman over thirty years ago and that he was a changed man. She felt completely safe with her kids around Garrido.
“She immediately started saying that Garrido was a great person, good with her kids and that he had a gift. The two girls also made comments about how good Garrido was to them.”
When Agent Santos started asking Alyssa more questions, she refused to answer, saying she might need a lawyer. Nancy agreed, asking Agent Santos why he was asking so many questions.
Santos assured Alyssa that she was not in any trouble, and he was just conducting an investigation, and everything she said would be kept in the file.
“But she became more agitated,” wrote Santos, “and started saying that she didn’t do anything wrong. At this point I asked Nancy, [Alyssa] and the two girls to wait downstairs so I could talk to Garrido.”
While Nancy Garrido took Alyssa and the two girls outside to wait in their car, Agent Santos brought Phillip Garrido upstairs into his office. After they sat down, facing each other across his desk, Agent Santos asked exactly what Alyssa’s relationship was to the girls.
“What do you mean?” asked Garrido anxiously.
Then Santos repeated his question. After a brief hesitation, Garrido replied that they were siste
rs, saying Alyssa was twenty-nine and the oldest. Then Santos asked who their father was.
“Garrido briefly thought for a while,” wrote Santos, “and stated that the father was a relative of his.”
Once again Santos asked who the girls’ father was, and the parolee cryptically replied that “the father was the son of his mother.”
“For clarification,” reported Santos, “I stated, ‘So that makes him your brother?’ Garrido looked at me with astonishment and stated, ‘Yes.’ He advised that the parents were divorced and that the girls were living between them and other people.”
Garrido said that their father’s name was Ronald Garrido, saying he knew his brother lived in Oakley, but did not know his exact address or phone number. He said the girls’ mother’s name was called Janice, and lived somewhere in Brentwood, California. He also did not know her address or phone number.
At that point, Agent Santos stopped the interview, asking Garrido to wait in another office with another parole agent.
At around 9:00 A.M., Santos briefed his colleague Agent Lovan on what was going on. They then walked outside to the car, where Nancy and the three girls were waiting. For Santos had now decided to confront Alyssa about the discrepancies in her and Garrido’s stories, believing she was the one who had lied.
First he separated Alyssa from the others, before asking why she had lied to him.
“What do you mean?” she snapped.
Then Santos told her that Phillip Garrido had told him that she was the girls’ older sister and not their mother.
“[She] looked confused,” Santos later wrote, “and advised that she had custody of the girls, implying that she was not the mother but a guardian with full custody.”
He then informed her that if she continued not to cooperate, he would be forced to contact Child Protection Services or the Concord Police Department. Alyssa then changed her story, admitting she was the girls’ “biological mother,” but did not know what was going on.
Santos said he did not believe her, asking for identification or a relative’s phone number who could verify her story. Alyssa replied that she had learned a long time ago never to carry ID, or give out any personal information to anyone.
“When I asked her to explain herself,” reported Santos, “she kept on saying that she didn’t know what was going on and that she needed a lawyer.”
By this time Nancy Garrido had come over to tell Alyssa that she needed a lawyer.
“[Alyssa’s] demeanor changed,” noted Santos. “She became more concerned about her children. I asked her why Garrido would say that you were all sisters and she said, “He was just trying to protect me.’ ”
At 9:17 A.M., Eddie Santos dialed 911 on his cell phone, requesting a police officer to come to the Parkside Drive parole office as soon as possible.
While they were waiting for police to arrive, Starlit said she needed to use the restroom immediately. Not wanting to split them up, Agent Santos escorted them all over to Concord Library, which was adjacent to the parole office.
“While walking to the restroom,” wrote Santos, “[Alyssa] stated, ‘I am sorry that I lied to you.’ She then began to say that she was from Minnesota and that she was running and hiding from an abusive husband.”
She explained she had been on the run for five years, and was “terrified” her husband would find her and the children. Then she patted the parole agent’s shoulder, saying, “You can see why I learned a long time ago never to give out my personal information.”
The library was closed and on the way back to the parole office, Agent Santos assured Alyssa that everything she told him would be confidential. But Alyssa replied she could not take that chance, and was not saying another thing.
At 9:30 A.M., Officer Mike Von Savoye of the Concord Police drew up outside the Parkside Drive parole office. Eddie Santos briefed the uniformed officer about the situation, saying he did not believe Alyssa’s story about the girls.
Officer Von Savoye then questioned the girl, who said her name was “Alyssa Franzen,” refusing to say any more. Then she abruptly changed her story, claiming her real name was “Ally Smith.” At this point, Officer Kaiser arrived from the Concord Police Department as backup.
While they were questioning Alyssa, little Starlit said she needed a restroom urgently, so everybody went into the parole office, so she could relieve herself there. Once inside, the Concord police officers separated Alyssa from Nancy Garrido and the two girls, so she could be questioned alone by Officer Kaiser.
In the interview room, Alyssa adamantly stuck to her story, that she was from Minnesota, running away from her abusive husband. So to try and break the deadlock, Phillip Garrido was brought into the room with Alyssa.
“Once Garrido came into the room,” Agent Santos later wrote, “it appeared that [Alyssa] kept looking to him for answers. Garrido stated that she should get a lawyer and . . . not cooperate. I asked Garrido to stand up and escorted him back to my office.”
Then Agent Santos asked Garrido why Alyssa was protecting him.
“What do you mean?” he asked.
When Santos said she was definitely trying to protect him from something, Garrido said she needed a lawyer.
At that point Sergeant Hoffman of the Concord Police Department came into the office to question Garrido. And Santos left to see if Officer Kaiser had managed to get any more information from Alyssa.
A few minutes later the sergeant came out, saying that Phillip Garrido had now admitted he was the girls’ father.
“I reentered the room,” wrote Santos, “and asked Garrido why he made us go through all this? He stated something to the effect of not knowing why. I asked him if he didn’t tell us because he didn’t want his wife Nancy to know, and he said, ‘Oh no! She knows and she forgave me a long time ago.’ ”
Agent Santos said it did not make sense, and there had to be some other reason. Then Garrido became evasive, refusing to answer any more questions. But Agent Santos persisted, asking why he had taken so long to tell them. Finally, he said that he would explain why if Alyssa was brought into the room to hear it too.
“I told him I would not do this,” wrote Santos, “but he insisted that if I did, he would basically tell me, but he wanted her to be in the same room.”
Santos said he didn’t want to “drop a bomb” on Alyssa, and he would only bring her in if Garrido told him first.
Then suddenly, Phillip Garrido broke down and told him the truth.
“A long, long, long time ago,” he began, “I kidnapped and raped her.”
An astonished Agent Santos then asked where her parents were, and Garrido replied, “Somewhere in Los Angeles.”
Leaving Garrido inside the interview room, Santos went out to tell Sergeant Hoffman. Then the sergeant went back in with Alyssa, telling her what Phillip Garrido just admitted.
She then broke down in tears, admitting her real name was Jaycee Lee Dugard, and she had been kidnapped eighteen years ago by Phillip and Nancy Garrido and repeatedly raped over the years.
At 11:30 A.M., Lieutenant James Lardieri walked into the front lobby of the Concord Police Department as several detectives swept past him on the way out. One explained they were going to the Concord parole office, where a man was in custody for a parole violation. There was also a young woman who said she had been kidnapped in Nevada eighteen years ago.
“That’s all the information they had at that point,” said Lardieri, who heads up the Investigation Unit. “They did not have a name.”
Then Lardieri went into his office and punched up the “National Center for Missing & Exploited Children” website, and started searching for any 1991 abduction cases from Nevada. But the information he had been given was wrong, and the kidnapping had actually happened just over the border in South Lake Tahoe, California.
“So I’m waiting and waiting,” recalled Lieutenant Lardieri, “and I haven’t heard back from anybody at the scene. So I go into the California website, and I came upon
the case of Jaycee Lee Dugard.”
Lardieri dimly remembered the well-publicized 1991 abduction, as he was already working in law enforcement at the time. And he was looking at Jaycee’s missing poster and her photograph when his phone rang.
“It’s my sergeant,” Lardieri recalled. “He tells me, ‘We have Jaycee Lee Dugard here.’ The hair on the back of my neck stood up for about an hour. It was just very strange.”
After Jaycee Lee Dugard finally revealed her true identity, she, Nancy and the two girls were taken to the Concord Police Department at 1350 Galindo Street. Phillip Garrido, who was now being held under a parole violation, was transported there separately in handcuffs and placed in a holding cell.
“When Jaycee came in she was crying and was visibly upset,” recalled Lieutenant Lardieri, who took charge of the investigation. “The girls were quiet. She looked ten years younger than she was, about nineteen or twenty.”
Anxious to put Jaycee and her daughters at ease, the lieutenant brought them into the investigations area, placing them in a comfortable interview room with a couple of officers.
“We didn’t want a bunch of people standing around gawking at them,” he explained. “So it was very low-key and casual.”
Nancy Garrido, who was not under arrest at that point and had willingly come back to the station, was left in the public lobby downstairs, until detectives could question her further.
In the meantime, Lieutenant Lardieri contacted the El Dorado County Sheriff’s Department, the lead investigating agency on the 1991 Jaycee Lee Dugard kidnapping case.
“I got hold of one of their investigations lieutenants,” he said, “and I told them we had Jaycee Lee Dugard. Well, he was elated.”
The department was located in Placerville, California, about three hours drive from Concord, but two cold-case detectives happened to be in Stockton, just forty-five minutes away. So they were immediately dispatched to Concord to take over the investigation.