Helter Skelter: The True Story of the Manson Murders Read online

  “Listen, you God damn bitch, and listen good,” I told her. “I don’t know for sure whether you were or weren’t involved in the actual attempt to murder Barbara, but if you were, I’m going to do everything in my power to see that you end up in jail!” I then looked at the two males and told them if they followed me one more time, I was going to deck them on the spot.

  I then turned and walked off. This time they didn’t follow me.

  My reaction was, I felt, exceptionally mild, considering the circumstances.

  Kanarek felt otherwise. When court reconvened on Monday, the twenty-first, he filed a motion asking that I be held in contempt for interfering with a defense witness. He also asked that I be arrested for violating Section 415 of the Penal Code, charging that I had made obscene remarks in the presence of a female.

  SEPTEMBER 21–26, 1970

  Finding nothing in Sandra Good’s declaration “that in my opinion constitutes contemptuous conduct on the part of Mr. Bugliosi,” Judge Older dismissed Kanarek’s several motions. Again Manson asked to see me in the lockup during the noon recess. He hoped I wasn’t taking all this—the attempted murder, the knife incident, the trial—personally.

  “No, Charlie,” I told him, “I was assigned to this case; I didn’t ask for it; this is my job.”

  By now it should be obvious to me, Manson said, that the girls were acting on their own, that nobody was dominating them. When I raised a skeptical eyebrow, Manson said, “Look, Bugliosi, if I had all the power and control that you say I have, I could simply say, ‘Brenda, go get Bugliosi,’ and that would be it.”

  It was interesting, I thought, that Manson should single out Brenda McCann, t/n Nancy Pitman, as his chief assassin.

  Later I’d have good reason to recall Manson’s remarks.

  Nothing personal. But immediately after this, the middle-of-the-night hang-up calls began. They’d continue even after we changed our unlisted number. And several times when I left the Hall of Justice at night, I was followed by various Family members, including Sandy. Only the first time disturbed me. Gail and the kids were circling the block in our car, and I was afraid they would be identified or the license number spotted. When I pretended not to see her, Gail quickly sized up the situation and drove around until I was able to shake my “followers,” though, as she later admitted to me, she was far less cool than she appeared.

  Though concerned with the safety of my family, I didn’t take any of this very seriously until one afternoon when, apparently enraged at the domination testimony that was coming in, Manson told a bailiff, “I’m going to have Bugliosi and the judge killed.”

  By telling a bailiff this, Manson was making sure we got the message. Older was already under protection. The next day the District Attorney’s Office assigned me a bodyguard for the duration of the trial. Additional precautions were taken, which, since they’re probably used in protecting others, needn’t be enumerated, though one might be noted. In order to prevent a repetition of the events at 10050 Cielo Drive, a walkie-talkie was installed in our home, which provided instant communication with the nearest police station, in case the telephone wires were cut.

  Though Older and I were the only trial principals who had bodyguards, it was no secret that several, if not all, of the defense attorneys were frightened of the Family. Daye Shinn, I was told by one of his fellows, kept a loaded gun in each room of his house, in case of an unannounced visitation. What precautions, if any, Kanarek took I never learned, though Manson often assigned him top spot on his kill list. According to another defense attorney, Manson threatened numerous times to kill Kanarek; it was only fair, Manson supposedly said, since Kanarek was killing him in court.

  Manson, at one point, had Fitzgerald draw up papers for Kanarek’s dismissal. According to Paul, who told the story to me, Kanarek literally got down on his knees and, with tears in his eyes, begged Manson not to fire him. Manson relented and, though they continued to disagree, Kanarek remained on the case.

  Each week a member of the Los Angeles Board of Supervisors issued a press release itemizing trial costs to date. Yet even with Kanarek’s multitudinous objections, many of which called for lengthy conferences, we were covering a tremendous amount of testimony each day. A veteran court reporter said he’d never seen anything like it in twenty-odd years.

  Thus far, Judge Older had done a remarkable job of holding Kanarek in check. Had he granted even half the “evidentiary hearings” Kanarek was always calling for, the ten-years estimates might have become a reality. Instead, each time Kanarek made the request, Older said, “Put your motion in writing with supporting citations.” Because of the time involved, Kanarek rarely took the trouble.

  For our part, although I’d originally planned to call some hundred witnesses, I’d cut that number down to about eighty. In a case of this magnitude and complexity this was a remarkable low number. Some days saw as many as a half dozen witnesses taking the stand. Whenever possible, I’d use a single witness for several purposes. In addition to his other testimony, for example, I asked DeCarlo the names and approximate ages of each of the Family members, so it would be apparent to the jury that Manson, being older than all of them, was not likely to have played a subservient role.

  When I called sheriff’s deputy William Gleason to testify that when Spahn Ranch was raided on August 16 not one Buck knife was found, Kanarek, seeing the implication of this, objected, and Older sustained the objection.

  I’d almost given up getting this in when Fitzgerald, apparently thinking the absence of such knives was a plus for the defense, asked on cross-examination: “Did you find any Buck knives at the Spahn Ranch on the date of August the sixteenth, 1969?”

  A. “No, sir.”

  The Family’s attempt to silence Barbara Hoyt backfired. Once a reluctant witness, she was now very willing to testify.

  Barbara not only confirmed Linda’s story of the TV incident; she recalled that the previous night, the night of the Tate murders, Sadie called her on the field phone at the back house, asking her to bring three sets of dark clothing to the front of the ranch. When she arrived, Manson told her, “They already left.”

  Barbara’s story was both support for Linda Kasabian’s testimony and powerful evidence of Manson’s involvement, and, though unsuccessful, Kanarek fought hard to keep it out.

  I was not able to bring out the Myers Ranch conversation until after a full half day of argument in chambers, and then, as I’d anticipated, I could only get in part of it.

  One afternoon in early September 1969, Barbara had been napping in the bedroom at Myers Ranch when she awoke to hear Sadie and Ouisch talking in the kitchen. Apparently thinking Barbara was still asleep, Sadie told Ouisch that Sharon Tate had been the last to die because, to quote Sadie, “She had to watch the others die.”

  I got this in, finally. What I couldn’t get in, because of Aranda, was the rest of the conversation: Barbara had also heard Sadie tell Ouisch that Abigail Folger had escaped and run out of the house; that Katie had caught up with her on the lawn; and that Abigail had struggled so much that Katie had to call for help from Tex, who ran over and stabbed Abigail.

  In chambers, Shinn argued that he should be allowed to question Barbara about this. Older, as well as the other defense attorneys, strongly disagreed. By “Arandizing” the conversation—omitting all reference to her co-defendants—this put the onus for all five murders on Susan, Shinn complained, adding, “But other people were there too, Your Honor.”

  BUGLIOSI “They were, Daye?”

  Inadvertently, Shinn had admitted that Susan Atkins was present at the Tate murder scene. Fortunately for both attorney and client, this dialogue took place in chambers and not in open court.

  As with the other ex–Family members, I was able to bring in through Barbara numerous examples of Manson’s domination, as well as a number of Manson’s conversations about Helter Skelter. The one thing I couldn’t get in was the Family’s attempt to prevent Barbara Hoyt from testifying.

/>   During his cross-examination of Barbara, Kanarek attacked her for everything from her morals to her eyesight.

  Aware that Barbara had very poor vision, Kanarek had her take off her glasses, then he moved around the courtroom asking how many fingers he had up.

  Q. “How many can you see now?”

  A. “Three.”

  KANAREK “May the record reflect she said three and I have two up clearly, Your Honor.”

  THE COURT “I thought I saw your thumb.”

  Kanarek finally proved Barbara had bad eyesight. The issue, however, wasn’t her sight but her hearing: she didn’t claim to have seen Sadie and Ouisch in the kitchen at Myers Ranch, only to have heard them.

  Kanarek also asked Barbara: “Have you been in any mental hospital for the last couple of years?”

  Ordinarily I would have objected to such a question, but not this time, for Kanarek had just opened wide the door through which I could, on redirect, bring in the murder attempt.

  Redirect is limited to the issues raised on cross-examination. For example, on redirect I had Barbara approximate the distance between the bedroom and the kitchen at Myers Ranch, then conducted a hearing experiment. She passed with no trouble.

  Asking to approach the bench, I argued that since Kanarek had implied that Barbara Hoyt was in a mental hospital for an extended period of time, I had the right to bring out that she was in a mental ward only overnight and that it was not because of a mental problem. Older agreed, with one limitation: I couldn’t ask who gave her LSD.

  Once I’d brought out the circumstances of her hospitalization, I asked: “Did you take this overdose voluntarily?”

  A. “No.”

  Q. “Was it given to you by someone else?”

  A. “Yes.”

  Q. “Were you near death?”

  KANAREK “Calls for a conclusion, Your Honor.”

  THE COURT “Sustained.”

  It was good enough. I was sure the jury could put two and two together.

  On Saturday, September 26, 1970, an era came to an end. A raging fire swept Southern California. Whipped by eighty-mile-an-hour winds, a wall of flame as high as sixty feet charred over 100,000 acres. Burned in the inferno was all of Spahn’s Movie Ranch.

  As the ranch hands tried to save the horses, the Manson girls, their faces illuminated by the light of the conflagration, danced and clapped their hands, crying out happily, “Helter Skelter is coming down! Helter Skelter is coming down!”

  SEPTEMBER 27–OCTOBER 5, 1970

  Juan Flynn, who described his job at Spahn Ranch as “manure shoveler,” seemed to enjoy himself on the stand. Of all the witnesses, however, the lanky Panamanian cowboy was the only one who openly showed animosity to Manson. When Charlie tried to stare him down, Juan glared back.

  After positively identifying the revolver, Juan remarked, “And Mr. Manson on one occasion fired this gun, you know, in my direction, you see, because I was walking with a girl on the other side of the creek.”

  It was difficult to stop Juan once he got started. The girl had come to Spahn Ranch to ride horses; she’d ignored Manson but went off down the creek with amorous-minded Juan. Charlie was so miffed he’d fired several shots in their direction.

  Kanarek succeeded in having all this, except Juan’s seeing Manson fire the revolver, struck.

  He also tried, but failed, to keep out the two most important pieces of evidence Juan Flynn had to offer.

  One night in early August 1969, Juan had been watching TV in the trailer when Sadie came in, dressed in black. “Where are you going?” Juan asked. “We’re going to get some fucking pigs,” Sadie replied. When she left, Juan looked out the window and saw her get into Johnny Swartz’ old yellow Ford. Charlie, Clem, Tex, Linda, and Leslie got in also.

  According to Juan, the incident had occurred after dark, about 8 or 9 P.M., and, though he wasn’t able to pinpoint the date, he said it was about a week before the August 16 raid. The logical inference was that he was describing the night the LaBiancas were killed.

  Juan’s story was important both as evidence and as independent corroboration of Linda Kasabian’s testimony. Not only did the time, participants, vehicle, and color of Susan Atkins’ clothing coincide, Juan also noticed that Manson was driving.

  Juan then testified to the kitchen conversation which occurred “a day or so” later, when, putting a knife to his throat, Manson told him, “You son of a bitch, don’t you know I’m the one who’s doing all of these killings?”

  The newsmen rushed for the door.

  MANSON ADMITTED MURDERS, SPAHN RANCH COWBOY CLAIMS

  Kanarek’s objections kept out another piece of extremely damaging evidence.

  One night in June or July 1969, Manson, Juan, and three male Family members were driving through Chatsworth when Charlie stopped in front of a “rich house” and instructed Juan to go in and tie up the people. When he’d finished, Manson said, he was to open the door and, to quote Manson, “We’ll come in and cut the motherfucking pigs up.” Juan had said, “No thanks.”

  This was in effect a dress rehearsal for the Tate-LaBianca murders. But ruling that “the prejudicial effect far outweighs the probative value,” Older wouldn’t permit me to question Juan about this.

  I was also unable, for the same reason, to get in a comment Manson made to Juan: “Adolf Hitler had the best answer to everything.”

  That answer, of course, was murder, but, owing to Kanarek’s objections, neither of these two incidents was heard by the jury or ever made public.

  On cross-examination Fitzgerald brought out an interesting anomaly. Even after Manson had allegedly threatened him, not once but several times, Juan still stuck around. After the raid he’d even accompanied the Family to Death Valley, remaining with them a couple of weeks before splitting to join Crockett, Poston, and Watkins.

  That had puzzled me too. One possible explanation was that, as Juan testified, at first he had thought Manson was “bullshitting” about the murders, that “nobody in their right mind is going to kill somebody and then boast about it.” Also, Juan was easygoing and slow to anger. Probably more important, Juan was an independent cuss; like Paul Crockett, who didn’t leave Death Valley until long after Manson threatened to kill him, he didn’t like to be intimidated.

  Kanarek picked up on Fitzgerald’s discovery. “Now, Mr. Flynn, were you scared to be at the Myers Ranch with Mr. Manson?”

  A. “Well, I was aware and precautious.”

  Q. “Just answer the question, Mr. Flynn. I understand you are an actor, but would you just answer the question please.”

  A. “Well, I liked it there, you know, because I wanted to think nice things, you know. But every time I walked around the corner, well, that seemed to be the main subject, you know, about how many times they could do me in. Then, finally, I just left.”

  Q. “Now, Mr. Flynn, will you tell me how you were aware and precautious? How did you protect yourself?”

  A. “Well, I just protected myself by leaving.”

  Kanarek brought out that when Flynn was interviewed by Sartuchi he’d said nothing about Manson putting a knife to his throat. “You were holding that back, is that it, Mr. Flynn, to spring on us in this courtroom, is that right?”

  A. “No, I told the officers about this before, you see.”

  Ignoring Flynn’s response, Kanarek said: “You mean, Mr. Flynn, that you made it up for the purposes of this courtroom, is that correct, Mr. Flynn?”

  Kanarek was charging that Flynn had recently fabricated his testimony. I made a note of this, though as yet unaware how important this bit of dialogue would soon be.

  After focusing on all the things I had brought out which were not in the Sartuchi interview, Kanarek asked Juan when he first mentioned the knife incident to anyone.

  A. “Well, there was some officers in Shoshone, you see, and I talked to them.” Flynn, however, couldn’t recall their names.

  Kanarek strongly implied, several times, that Flynn was fictionaliz
ing his story. Juan didn’t take kindly to being called a liar. You could see his temper rising.

  Intent on proving that Flynn was testifying so he could further his movie career (Juan had had bit parts in several Westerns), Kanarek asked: “You recognize, do you not, that there is lots of publicity in this case against Mr. Manson, right?”

  A. “Well, it is the type of publicity that I wouldn’t want, you big catfish.”

  THE COURT “On that note, Mr. Kanarek, we will adjourn.”

  After court I questioned Juan about the Shoshone interview. He thought one of the officers was from the California Highway Patrol, but he wasn’t sure. That evening I called the DA’s Office in Independence and learned that the man who had interviewed Juan was a CHP officer named Dave Steuber. Late that night I finally located him in Fresno, California. Yes, he’d interviewed Flynn, as well as Crockett, Poston, and Watkins, on December 19, 1969. He’d taped the whole conversation, which had lasted over nine hours. Yes, he still had the original tapes.

  I checked my calendar. I guessed Flynn would be on the stand another day or two. Could Steuber be in L.A. in three days with the tapes and prepared to testify? Sure, Steuber said.

  Steuber then told me something I found absolutely incredible. He had already made a copy of the tapes and given it to LAPD. On December 29, 1969. Later I learned the identity of the LAPD detective to whom the tapes had been given. The officer (since deceased) recalled receiving the tapes but admitted he hadn’t played them. He thought he had given them to someone, but couldn’t remember to whom. All he knew was that he no longer had them.

  Perhaps it was because the interview was so long, nine hours. Or perhaps, it being the holiday season, in the confusion they were mislaid. Neither explanation, however, erases the unpleasant fact that as early as December 1969 the Los Angeles Police Department had a taped interview containing a statement in which Manson implied that he was responsible for the Tate-LaBianca murders, and as far as can be determined, no one even bothered to book it into evidence, much less play it.