Helter Skelter: The True Story of the Manson Murders Page 29

  Even more incriminating, and revealing, was a “kite” Susan sent Ronnie Howard. In jail parlance, a kite is any illegal communication. The letter, which Susan smuggled to Ronnie via the underground at Sybil Brand, read as follows:

  “I can see your side of this clearly. Nor am I mad at you. I am hurt in a way only I understand. I blame no one but myself for even saying anything to anybody about it…Yes, I wanted the world to know M. It sure looks like they do now. There was a so called motive behind all this. It was to instill fear into the pigs and to bring on judgment day which is here now for all.

  “In the word kill, the only thing that dies is the ego. All ego must die anyway, it is written. Yes, it could have been your house, it could have been my fathers house also. In killing someone phisally you are only releasing the soul. Life has no boundris and death is only an illusion. If you can believe in the second coming of Crist, M is he who has come to save…Maybe this will help you to understand…I did not admit to being in the 2nd house because I was not in the 2nd house.

  “I went before the grand jury because my attorney said your testimony was enough to convict me and all the others. He also said it was my only chance to save myself. Then I was out to save myself. I have gone through some changes since then…I know now it has all been perfect. Those people died not out of hate or anything ugly. I am not going to defend our beliefs. I am just telling you the way it is…As I write to you I feel more at ease inside. When I first heard you were the informer I wanted to slit your throat. Then I snapped that I was the real informer and it was my throat I wanted to cut. Well that’s all over with now as I let the past die away from my mind. You know it will all turn out ok in the end anyway, M or no M, Sadie or no Sadie, love will still run forever. I am giving up me to become that love a little more every day…”

  Quoting a lyric from one of Manson’s songs, Susan ended the letter: “Cease to exist, just come and say you love me. As I say I love you or I should say I love Me (my love) in you.

  “I hope now you understand a little more. If not, ask.”

  Ronnie, who was now living in deathly fear of Susan, turned the letter over to her attorney, Wesley Russell, who passed it on to our office. It would prove far more damaging to Susan Atkins than the confession which appeared in the Los Angeles Times.

  DECEMBER 15–25, 1969

  When on a case, I made it a habit periodically to scour LAPD’s “tubs,” or files, often finding something useful to my case whose evidentiary value wasn’t apparent to the police.

  In going through the LaBianca tubs, I made two discoveries. The first was the Al Springer interview. Only one page had been transcribed, the one on which Springer related how Manson told him, “We knocked off five of them just the other night.”

  As desperate as we were for evidence, none of the detectives had mentioned the Springer statement to me, nor, when I questioned Lieutenants Helder and LePage, were they aware they had a confession by Manson in their files. I took the tape and had it transcribed, adding “Interview Al Springer” to my own already lengthy list of Things to Do. Though, because of Aranda, Manson’s confession couldn’t be used against him at the trial, it was quite possible he had made other admissions that could.

  The second find was a photocopy of a letter mailed to Manson while he was in jail in Independence. The content was innocuous; however, it was signed “Harold.” Susan Atkins had told the grand jury that a guy named “Harold” had been living at the house next door to the LaBianca residence when she, Charlie, and a number of others had gone there for an LSD party a year or so earlier. I had a feeling this might be the same person, and made another note for the LaBianca detectives: “Find Harold.” This shouldn’t be too difficult, as he had given an address in Sherman Oaks and two telephone numbers.

  Why? The biggest and most puzzling question of all remained: what was Manson’s motive? On learning that Manson often told his followers that he was a Scorpio, and thinking that possibly his belief in astrology might be a factor, I obtained back copies of the Los Angeles Times and checked Carroll Righter’s “Astrological Forecast” for his sign.

  August 8: Do whatever you think will help you to extend your sphere of influence. Take care of that private task wisely and well. Get the information at the right source. Then use it cleverly.

  August 9: If you go about it tactfully, you can get a reluctant associate to understand what you have in mind. Cooperate with this individual when some problem arises.

  August 10: There are fine opportunities all around you. Don’t hesitate to seize the best one. Extend your sphere of influence…

  You could, I realized, read just about any meaning you wanted into such forecasts. Including plans for murder?

  It was indicative of our desperation that I went to such unlikely lengths in trying to ascertain why Manson had ordered these murders.

  I didn’t even know whether Manson read newspapers.

  Since the story first broke, LAPD had been receiving inquiries from various police departments regarding unsolved murders in their jurisdictions which they believed could have been committed by one or more members of the Manson Family. I went through these reports, eliminating a great many, setting others aside as “possibles.”* Though my principal concern was the Tate-LaBianca homicides, I wanted to see if there was a discernible pattern which might help explain the killings at Cielo and Waverly drives. Thus far, if there was one, I couldn’t find it.

  In her printed “confession” Susan Atkins had described how, after changing clothes in the car, the Tate killers drove “along a steep embankment,” with a mountain on one side, a ravine on the other. “We stopped and Linda got out of the car and threw all the clothes, all drippy with blood…over the side.”

  With the Times story on the seat beside them, a TV camera crew from Channel 7, KACB-TV, attempted to re-create the scene. Driving from the gate at 10050 Cielo Drive, they proceeded down Benedict Canyon, all but the driver changing clothes on the way. It took them six minutes and twenty seconds—during which they later admitted they felt more than a little foolish—to complete their change of apparel. At the first spot where they could pull off the road—a wide shoulder opposite 2901 Benedict Canyon Road—they stopped and got out.

  Mountain on one side, ravine on the other. Newscaster Al Wiman looked down the steep embankment and, pointing to some dark objects about fifty feet down, said, laughing, “Looks like clothing down there.” King Baggot, the cameraman, and Eddie Baker, the sound man, looked too and had to agree.

  It was just too easy—if the clothing was in plain view from the road, surely LAPD would have found it by now. Still, they decided to check it out. They were about to descend the slope when the car radio buzzed: they were needed on another story.

  While on the other assignment they couldn’t get those dark objects out of mind. About 3 P.M. they returned to the spot. Baker went down first, followed by Baggot. They found three sets of clothing: one pair of black trousers, two pairs of blue denim pants, two black T-shirts, one dark velour turtleneck, and one white T-shirt which was spotted with some substance that looked like dried blood. Some of the clothing was partly covered by dirt slides; all of it, however, was in an area about twelve feet square, as if thrown there in one bundle.

  They yelled the news up to Wiman, who called LAPD. By the time McGann and three other detectives arrived, shortly before five, it was beginning to get dark, so the TV crew set up artificial lighting. While the detectives placed the clothing in plastic bags, Baggot filmed the incident.

  On learning of the find, I asked the Tate detectives to conduct a thorough search of the area, to see if they could locate any of the weapons. I had to make the request not once but many, many times. In the interim, a week after the initial discovery, Baggot and Baker returned to the scene and conducted their own search, finding a knife. It was an old, badly rusted kitchen knife, which, because of its dimensions and dull edge, was eliminated as one of the murder weapons, but it was in plain view less than a
hundred feet from where the clothing had been found.

  That a TV crew had found the clothing was an embarrassment to LAPD. Faces at Parker Center, however, would be far redder before the end of the following day.

  On Tuesday, December 16, Susan Atkins appeared before Judge Keene and pleaded not guilty to all eight counts of the indictment. Keene set a trial date of February 9, 1970. Since this was the same date set for the retrial of Bobby Beausoleil, I was taken off the Beausoleil-Hinman case, and it was assigned to Deputy DA Burton Katz. I wasn’t unhappy about this; I had more than enough to do on Tate-LaBianca.

  That Tuesday was, for Bernard Weiss, a most trying day.

  Weiss hadn’t read Susan Atkins’ story when it appeared in the Los Angeles Times, but a colleague at work had, and he mentioned to Weiss that a .22 caliber revolver had definitely been used in the Tate murders. Odd coincidence, wasn’t it, his boy finding a similar type gun?

  Weiss thought it might be something more than that. After all, his son had found the revolver on September 1, a little over two weeks after the Tate murders; they lived not far from the Tate residence; and the road right above the hill where Steven had found the gun was Beverly Glen. That morning Weiss called the Valley Services Division of LAPD in Van Nuys and told them he thought they might have the missing Tate gun. Van Nuys referred him to LAPD Homicide at Parker Center.

  Weiss called there about noon, and repeated his story. He observed that the gun his son had found had a broken trigger guard and part of the wooden grip was missing. “Well, it sounds enough like the gun,” the detective told him. “We’ll check it out.”

  Weiss anticipated that the detective would call him back; he didn’t. That evening on arriving home, Weiss read the Atkins story. It convinced him. About 6 P.M. he again called LAPD Homicide. The officer he’d talked to at noon was out, so he had to repeat the story a third time. This officer told him, “We don’t keep guns that long. We throw them in the ocean after a while.” Weiss said, “I can’t believe you’d throw away what could be the single most important piece of evidence in the Tate case.” “Listen, mister,” the officer replied, “we can’t check out every citizen report on every gun we find. Thousands of guns are found every year.” The discussion became an argument, and they hung up on each other.

  Weiss then called one of his neighbors, Clete Roberts, a newscaster for Channel 2, and told Roberts the story. Roberts in turn called someone at LAPD.

  Although it remains unclear which of the five calls triggered a response, at least one did. At 10 P.M.—three and a half months after Weiss gave the gun to officer Watson—Sergeants Calkins and McGann drove over to Van Nuys and picked up the .22 caliber Hi Standard Longhorn revolver.

  POLICE FIND GUN BELIEVED USED IN SLAYING OF 3 TATE VICTIMS

  News of the find “leaked” to the Los Angeles Times four days later. It was a somewhat selective leak. There were no details as to when or where the gun was found, or by whom, the implication being that it had been discovered by LAPD sometime after the clothing, and in the same general area.

  The cylinder contained two live rounds and seven empty shell casings. This tallied perfectly with the original autopsy reports, which stated that Sebring and Frykowski had each been shot once, and Parent five times. There was only one problem: I’d already discovered the autopsy reports were in error.

  After Susan Atkins testified that Tex Watson shot Parent four (not five) times, I’d asked Coroner Noguchi to re-examine the Parent autopsy photos. When he did, he found that two of the wounds had been made by the same bullet. This reduced the number of times Parent was shot to four; it also left one bullet unaccounted for.

  This time I had Noguchi re-examine all the autopsy photos. In doing so, he found that Frykowski had been shot not once but twice, the coroners performing the autopsy having overlooked a gunshot wound in the left leg. So the count was again consistent, even if the reports were not.

  Bill Lee of SID compared the three pieces of gun grip with the butt of the revolver: a perfect fit. Joe Granado tested some brown spots on the barrel: blood, human, same type and subtype as Jay Sebring’s. After test-firing the gun, Lee placed the test bullets and the Tate bullets under a comparison microscope. Three of the four bullets recovered after the Tate murders were either too fragmented or battered for the stria to be matched up. With the fourth, the Sebring bullet, he made a positive ID. There was no doubt whatsoever, he told me, that it had been fired from the .22 Longhorn.

  One very important step remained: linking the gun to Charles Manson. I asked the Tate detectives to show it to DeCarlo, to determine if it was the same gun with which Manson and the other men used to target-practice at Spahn. I also requested as complete a history of the gun as they could manage, from the day it was manufactured by Hi Standard to the day it was found by Steven Weiss.

  It was decided that there was insufficient evidence to convict either Gypsy or Brenda, and the two hard-core Manson Family members were released from custody. Although Brenda returned to her parents for a short time, both soon rejoined Squeaky, Sandy, and the other Family members at Spahn, lonely George having weakened and let them move back to the ranch.

  Manson’s frequent court appearances gave me opportunities to study him. Though he’d had little formal schooling, he was fairly articulate, and definitely bright. He picked up little nuances, seemed to consider all the hidden sides of a question before answering. His moods were mercurial, his facial expressions chameleonlike. Underneath, however, there was a strange intensity. You felt it even when he was joking, which, despite the seriousness of the charges, was often. He frequently played to the always packed courtroom, not only to the Family faithful but to the press and spectators as well. Spotting a pretty girl, he’d often smile or wink. Usually they appeared more flattered than offended.

  Though their responses surprised me, they shouldn’t have. I’d already heard that Manson was receiving a large volume of mail, including many “love letters,” the majority of which were from young girls who wanted to join the Family.

  On December 17, Manson appeared before Judge Keene and asked to have the Public Defender dismissed. He wanted to represent himself, he said.

  Judge Keene told Manson that he was not convinced that he was competent to represent himself, or, in legal jargon, to proceed “in pro per” (in propria persona).

  MANSON “Your Honor, there is no way I can give up my voice in this matter. If I can’t speak, then our whole thing is done. If I can’t speak in my own defense and converse freely in this courtroom, then it ties my hands behind my back, and if I have no voice, then there is no sense in having a defense.”

  Keene agreed to reconsider Manson’s motion on the twenty-second.

  Manson’s insistence that only he could speak for himself, as well as his obvious enjoyment at being in the spotlight, led me to one conclusion: when the time came, he probably wouldn’t be able to resist taking the stand.

  I began keeping a notebook of questions I intended to ask him on cross-examination. Before long there was a second notebook, and a third.

  On the nineteenth Leslie Van Houten also asked to have her present attorney, Donald Barnett, dismissed. Keene granted the motion and appointed Marvin Part to be Miss Van Houten’s attorney of record.

  Only later would we learn what was happening behind the scenes. Manson had set up his own communications network. Whenever he heard that an attorney for one of the girls had initiated a move on behalf of his client which could conceivably run counter to Manson’s own defense, within days that attorney would be removed from the case. Barnett had wanted a psychiatrist to examine Leslie. Learning of this, Manson vetoed the idea, and when the psychiatrist appeared at Sybil Brand, Leslie refused to see him. Her request for Barnett’s dismissal came immediately after.

  Manson’s goal: to run the entire defense himself. In court as well as out, Charlie intended to retain complete control of the Family.

  Manson wanted to represent himself, he told the court, because “
lawyers play with people, and I am a person and I don’t want to be played with in this matter.” Most lawyers were only interested in one thing, publicity, Manson said. He’d seen quite a few of them lately and felt he knew what he was talking about. Any attorney previously associated with the DA’s Office was not acceptable to him, he added. He had learned that two other defendants had court-appointed attorneys who were once deputy DAs (Caballero and Part).

  Judge Keene explained that many lawyers engaged in the practice of criminal law first gained experience in the office of the District Attorney, the City Attorney, or the U.S. Attorney. Knowing how the prosecution worked was often a benefit to their clients.

  MANSON “It sounds good from there, but not from here.”

  “Your Honor,” Manson continued, “I am in a difficult position. The news media has already executed and buried me…If anyone is hypnotized, the people are hypnotized by the lies being told to them…There is no attorney in the world who can represent me as a person. I have to do it myself.”

  Judge Keene had a suggestion. He would arrange for an experienced attorney to confer with him. Unlike other attorneys to whom Manson had talked, this attorney would have no interest in representing him. His function would be solely to discuss with him the legal issues, and the possible dangers, of defending himself. Manson accepted the offer and, after court, Keene arranged for Joseph Ball, a former president of the State Bar Association and former senior counsel to the Warren Commission, to meet with Manson.

  Manson talked to Ball and found him “a very nice gentleman,” he told Judge Keene on the twenty-fourth. “Mr. Ball probably understands maybe everything there is to know about law, but he doesn’t understand the generation gap; he doesn’t understand free love society; he doesn’t understand people who are trying to get out from underneath all of this…”