by Lise LaSalle

I believe strongly in prison systems like in Norway where they treat prisoners like human beings so they will act as such when released back into society.

Before signing up for a Twitter account, my perception of this social media site was that it was mainly a place where celebrities could post one-liners or photos to quench the thirst of their numerous fans/followers. Like Ice T’s wife Coco with her ‘Thong Thursday’ selfie, or Justin Bieber with his “Time for fast food” statement, becoming the big retweets of the day.

As I noticed more and more people listing their Twitter addresses on their websites, I started following the ones I found inspiring or with whom I thought I might share interests. The call of Twitter bore fruit far beyond my expectations. I found groups and individuals that I could relate to and establish positive contact with.

When I first landed on Twitter, the Jodi Arias trial was raging in Maricopa County, Arizona. I wondered then if the Tweet, as the direct descendant of the telegram, would make its main inventor, Samuel Morse, roll over in his grave. With only a mere 140 characters, people were managing to insult each other and say a lot of very bad things, mostly in capital letters. I was called DOUCHEBAG for suggesting that we might wait and listen to all witnesses and respect due process before passing judgement on Jodi. But I quickly learned to avoid confrontation and move on.

Having spent time in Arizona as a tourist, I was shocked beyond belief — during the course of this trial — at how archaic and twisted the Maricopa County criminal justice system was. This led me to check if the Real Sheriff Joe Arpaio was on Twitter. And, indeed he was, and boy did I hit the motherlode. Arpaio’s alter ego, the Lone Ranger, was plastered on his page and at the time, he was asking for donations to have seized horses saved from euthanasia. The poor animals were a far cry from ‘Silver’ and were in need of immediate care. Arpaio made a point of being photographed with a veterinarian to emphasize the seriousness of the cause. What a great humanitarian gesture from Twitter Joe!

Joe Arpaio has been the sheriff of Maricopa County since 1992 and a humanitarian he is not. He knows that virtually everyone feels compassion for pitiful animals, so he uses them to detract attention from his otherwise highly questionable actions at the helm of the County. It makes his constituents look the other way, while he busily chases down Latinos and tortures prisoners. The Sheriff’s posse, Steven Seagal, did not hesitate to have 100 roosters offed at a cock fighter’s house, as he led dozens of officers in riot gear to set off explosives, knock down a fence and wall, and blow out windows in an overblown raid for his TV reality show Lawman. I guess chickens do not count as animals, right? A dog actually got killed during this massive exercise in bad taste, but Arpaio is disputing the owner’s claim with his usual logic: if he was not smart enough to get his Nikon out in time to photograph the dying pup, it did not happen.

Arpaio’s official website is basically a long list of his impressive accomplishments as “America’s Toughest Sheriff” — a title supposedly given to him by the media a long time ago, but that he more than likely created for himself. It describes his career as a Federal Narcotics Agent and his remarkable run as the head of the Arizona DEA. The obvious problem with his constant horn tooting is that many of his claims are either not real or cannot be verified.

He claims to have arrested or stopped Elvis Presley in Vegas for a traffic violation, but no police records exist. He calls himself a Korean War veteran, and even though he was in the Army during that War, he was in France and never set foot in Korea. He has no authority over other police departments but calls himself “Chief Law Enforcement Officer of the County,” and claims authority over all police departments and the DPS. He even states that “He broke the famous French Connection” but the law enforcement personnel involved in that well-known case have never heard of him.

In spite of a study showing that the rate of recidivism in his jails had not changed, Arpaio challenged the results and said the rate was indeed dropping. Why? Because he said so. Tent City, created 20 years ago, was nothing new either, but he keeps pretending it was his idea. His biggest whopper so far is that he has saved taxpayers millions of dollars when, in reality, as we all know, his various machinations have cost taxpayers plenty — millions of dollars in legal fees, attorney’s fees, judgments and support for his public relations staff.  Even though insurance companies are supposed to cover lawsuits, their deductibles can be as high as $5 million.

At Estrella Jail in Maricopa County, Arpaio offers a drug treatment program called ALPHA. The problem is that not many inmates can qualify. The criteria for admittance into the program is based on good behavior while in custody and classification. Many petitions have been signed to try to get the sheriff to calibrate the eligibility requirements, so that more inmates can participate. As usual, it is an initiative designed more for show than for results. GED (Graduate Equivalency Degree) programs are offered at Estrella and must be counted as a positive in a sea of negatives. So hurray for Joe for bringing this standard program into this pit of hell he calls a jail.

This brings me to the living conditions at the County jails in Phoenix, Arizona. The inmates can either be lodged inside the jail in pods, in isolation, or in the tents outside, depending on whether they are part of the chain gangs and if they are waiting for trial, or have already been convicted. Rapper DMX can attest to life in Tent City. He was removed and put into solitary because he was upset at being restricted to bread and water, and threw his tray at an officer. My guess is that he probably preferred the outdoors, as opposed to being stuck in a cell 23 hours a day. But as Tent City is near a landfill and a rendering plant, plus the heat in summer can rise to 140 degrees with the rotting animal smell wafting from the plant, let’s just say that either option can become a ‘catch a tiger by the toe’ kind of a choice. It’s not rare to see helicopters hovering over the jail compound as many TV stations from around the world are trying to film this infamous establishment where three inmates have already died in a restraint chair and a woman was forced to give birth while shackled to a bed. Amnesty International has been refused entry and other civil rights groups like ACLU have expressed concerns on a regular basis.

Shackled and all dressed up in stripes with pink underwear and socks, but with nowhere to go to eat decent food, the inmates have to chow down on their jail slush after a day on the chain gang, at school or in solitary. Arpaio decided that feeding an inmate properly would be a sign of weakness, so he is serving meals that cost 15 to 40 cents each. He has banned cigarettes and coffee, and salt and pepper are a thing of the past. Strangely enough, his constituents seem to love it. He was feeding inmates only twice a day but was forced by the powers that be to add a snack of peanut butter and white bread. He has recently turned the inmates into vegetarians to save a few more bucks which he will, no doubt, use for his own legal fees. The citrus fruits that are provided each day are often rotten and moldy bread is not a rare occurrence. As the inmates are made to pay for their own food, they should at least get their money’s worth. To add insult to injury, one of the few TV channels the inmates are allowed to watch is the food channel. Just another cruel way to taunt them. The interesting aspect of these measures is that they do not yield any positive results and are mostly punitive and vengeful in nature.

During her trial, Jodi Arias had to get up at 4 a.m. to go to the courthouse where she would spend the whole day without lunch. The judge had to order the jail to send her a paper bag snack. And people took offense when she had a migraine and would pop a headache pill. Considering that she was supposed to be innocent until proven guilty during the 5 years she resided at Estrella, I often wondered if her Mexican descent worked against her.

Not all inmates at Arpaio’s jails are hardcore criminals. In fact, a lot of them are illegal immigrants, prostitutes, drug addicts, fraudsters and petty thieves. But they are all treated with the same disregard. According to a federal lawsuit, guards refer to Latino inmates as “wetbacks,” “Mexican bitches,” “stupid Mexicans,” and “fucking Mexicans.” The suit claims that female prisoners were forced to sleep in their own menstrual blood and that guards do not respond to pleas if they are in Spanish. This is essentially why I am allergic to expressions like “you do the crime, you do the time.” It’s never that simple.

Illegal immigration is a top concern for Arizona voters and jailing Mexicans is what pleases them. The State has many influential retirement communities populated by wealthy senior citizens. They want to keep the so-called riffraff out of their neighborhoods and Arpaio answers their call. But the reality of what he does is he mostly goes after the small fish working quietly to earn a living for his family. “He’s vilified Latinos in such a way that normal people, they’re scared to death,” says Bill Richardson, a retired police officer. Such terror, in turn, only makes it harder for the police to do their jobs.

The sheriff does not often arrest the white businessmen who profit from exploiting immigrant laborers. In his whole career, he’s only apprehended three businesses for hiring illegal immigrants. Instead, he goes after the undocumented workers the businesses hire and then makes sure to notify the media of the arrests. According to the Justice Department, he has often arrested and detained U.S. citizens and legal residents of Latino origin without charge or warrant.

Arpaio’s dislike for Obama was visceral and he went after him with all six-shooters blazing and — much like Donald Trump — made a fool of himself by obsessing over his birth certificate. He is accusing the President of watering down federal immigration law to win the Latino vote. Pretty ironic when you think that this sheriff is stiffening laws to court the white vote. He refused to acknowledge the president’s decision to grant temporary immunity from imprisonment and deportation to illegal immigrants who came to the U.S. as children. He insists that they will still “be arrested.” Recently, a federal judge ordered the appointment of an independent monitor and community advisory board to ensure that the sheriff is complying with constitutional requirements after finding his office engages in racial profiling. Arpaio is not taking this laying down and has vowed to fight the ruling, no doubt with money coming out of the County’s coffers.

The nuggets of information I dug up on Arpaio’s twitter page were revealing to say the least. He prides himself on not being an ‘abortion’. Apparently, his mother decided against an abortion and passed away while giving birth to this future embodiment of the banality of evil. His anti-abortion stance sounds like it is coming directly from the gospel according to Michelle Bachmann. His hero is the Lone Ranger and quite representative of his antisocial nature. Tonto is nowhere in sight. He follows a fake account of himself to keep track of his virtual enemy.  He also displays a picture of his old typewriter and compares himself to Russian President Putin, who wants to avoid spying and espionage by typing everything the old fashioned way. He owns an older model cell phone and his ringtone is ‘My Way’ by Frank Sinatra. He has open house adoptions at Harley Davidson stores for the poor animals he champions and the media is always invited. Recently, to improve his image with the media, he organized a few makeshift classical piano concerts by the chicken fence at Tent City. And just in time for Veteran’s Day, he has placed U.S. flag stickers on cells and any inmate removing them will be put on bread and water. They’ll also be expected to hear and sing Patriotic anthems. Frankly, I had to stop reading as I was starting to choke on the egocentric hogwash of this Lone Danger.

It is no surprise that he is a close friend of Nancy Grace and often appears on her freak show as well as on Jane Velez Mitchell’s crazy hour. They share the same approach: pretend to love animals and American soldiers so people won’t mind when you scrap every human life you come in contact with along the way. However, he did not take it too kindly when Nancy Grace said that his jail was ‘cushy’. He appeared on TV to list all the horrors of his institution, so the viewers would not think incarceration in Maricopa could be humane or restorative. He even made a video attacking Canada for being too soft on crime and for having abolished the death penalty.

So if you ever think of saving a horse in Arizona, go ahead but do not be fooled by this Sheriff’s seeming acts of kindness. Take a closer look at his jails where they ride inmates like horses or burritos if they are Mexicans. I would rather save a horse and ride a cowboy, but as far away as possible from Maricopa County.

At the ripe age of 82, I hope this self-proclaimed Christian man has a big Tent City in the sky waiting for him when his time comes to ride into the sunset as a Lone Sinner. Let’s see if the ring tone of his God and Savior will be playing “My Way” or “I Shot the Sheriff.”

A few twitter comments about Arpaio’s plea to save horses

If those horses were Mexican horses, Arpaio would have had them shot right there on the spot.

Arpaio is known for not providing access to medical treatment in the jails for people, but makes a media event of his seeking vet care for the horses. A self-serving sociopath.

It makes perfect sense to me… Every horse has a horse’s ass.

It’s time for term limits for county sheriffs. Two decades of an entrenched culture of cruelty is far too long. Soon the aging supporters of this cruelty will pass but they will have left a legacy of destruction that is beyond belief. Those who vote these people into office should pay for the damages.

Arpaio may not be a licensed veterinarian, but he is an expert in horseshit. He’s been feeding it to us for the last 18 years.

No wonder some people in Arizona have a bumper sticker that says FUCK ARPAIO

I love this man!

commentary by Patrick H. Moore

One problem with living way out in the Outback is that you may develop an aversion to strangers, especially if you sense they’re from the Big City. If the strangers are law enforcement officers from the Big City you may react even more negatively, especially if you’re a hot-headed 19-year-old boy and the law enforcement strangers from the Big City are busily trying to arrest your father.

This is unfortunately what happened to Nathanial Lee Kangas in Tanana, Alaska, a remote village, population 238, located approximately 130 miles east of Fairbanks. Tanana is so isolated that the only way to get there (if you’re coming from the Big City) is by plane.

It appears that Nathanial’s father, 58-year-old Arvin Kangas, is also cursed with the “hot-head” gene, which is what led young Nathanial to bushwhack two Alaska State Troopers, shooting them in the back with an assault rifle, while they grappled with Arvin trying to arrest him.

The two deceased state troopers, Gabriel “Gabe” Rich and Sgt. Patrick “Scott” Johnson, had flown into Tanana on Thursday following up on a complaint lodged by the village’s unarmed public safety officer, Mark Haglin. The troopers’ goal was to arrest the cantankerous Arvin for driving without a license and threatening Haglin with a rifle.

It seems that little birdies had informed Haglin that although the elder Kangas was driving around the village, he lacked a driver’s license. Thus, unless he chose to simply ignore the problem, Haglin had little choice other than to confront Old Kangas. Perhaps it would have been wiser for Haglin to speak with Kangas in a more public forum, but instead he moseyed over to Kangas’ home to discuss the matter.

According to the charging document, rather than discussing the problem in a civil manner, ArvinKangas pointed to a rifle he kept handy and suggested he would use it if Haglin did not vacate the premises. This, in turn, led to Haglin contacting the state troopers, who obtained an arrest warrant and flew to Tanana where they touched base with Haglin, who then led them to Kangas’ home. This was on Thursday, one day after the initial confrontation.

True to form, Kangas refused to cooperate with the troopers after being informed that they had a warrant for his arrest. He reportedly tried to run back inside his house (perhaps to fetch a firearm?). Troopers Rich and Johnson pursued, and a scuffle ensued.

That’s when Nathanial Kangas appeared with an assault rifle and made the dim-witted decision to shoot both officers in the back. Nathanial then pointed the weapon at Haglin, but lowered it and Haglin was able to flee. (Thus, we see that although the kid was willing and able to gun down the lawmen from the Big City, he drew the line at shooting a local whom he undoubtedly knew personally.)

Haglin mustered up some reinforcements with whose assistance he was able to detain Nathanial Kangas until more troopers arrived.

What is curious about this whole unfortunate affair is the fact that Nathanial Kangas, upon being arrested, “spontaneously stated that he was sorry for doing ‘it’ and that he shot the troopers because the troopers were wrestling with Arvin,” according to the court documents.

Old Arvin Kangas was also arrested and is being held in Fairbanks.

When Nathanial appeared in a Fairbanks courtroom two days after his arrest, he was charged with two counts of first-degree murder and a count of third-degree assault. Bail was set at $2 million.

After setting bail, the judge asked Kangas if he had anything to say regarding the bail amount.

Apparently the boy did not, but he did say, “I’m sorry,” according to the Fairbanks Daily News-Miner.

The Fairbanks courthouse was packed and the walls were lined with law enforcement officers of several agencies as Kangas, wearing an orange jumpsuit, was escorted into the court. Civilians in attendance were confronted by the sight of emotional officers hugging and consoling each other at the hearing.

Nathanial’s mother, Judy, and his younger brother, Albert, each gave brief apologies:

“I want to tell everybody, the families, from the bottom of my heart that I am sorry,” Judy Kangas said as she choked back tears.

Meanwhile on Saturday, funeral processions were held for the bodies of Rich and Johnson, which were taken from Anchorage to Fairbanks following their release from the M.E.’s office.

*     *     *     *     *

Perhaps you might be wondering why village public safety officers such as Haglin do not carry firearms, since nearly everyone else in America seems to want to. Apparently the good people of Alaska are wondering the same thing. In fact, a bill was passed this year that would allow for the arming of the officers, who serve as first responders in rural communities which are often located hours or days, depending on the weather, from the nearest state trooper.

The deceased troopers, Rich and Johnson, were occasionally featured on the National Geographic Channel show “Alaska State Troopers,” which features multiple troopers patrolling the state’s wild terrain. The troopers were not filming at the time of their deaths.

*     *     *     *     *

In response to this very sad tale, I have only this to say. If you’re a hothead, you should probably stay away from guns. You shouldn’t own one or use one. You probably shouldn’t come within 100 yards of one.

But that’s not how they roll in Alaska, which is one of the more heavily armed states in the union. In fact, several years ago when I was up in Alaska on a Federal case, I left the lawyer’s office in Anchorage at about 5:00 pm and heard a young man talking loudly into his cellphone. He was jabbering about guns with a friend; the two of them were apparently counting up the number of guns they had in their possession. Although I couldn’t stick around for a final tally, by the time I was out of ear shot the number had risen to 12 and was apparently still climbing.

All Things Crime Blog is pleased to post this excerpt from Nicholas Frank’s book, Destructive Justice, in which he tells the story of how his 17-year-old son, Nathan, received several life sentences for an armed robbery in which no one was injured.

by Nicholas Frank

He Should Have Been With Me

“That’s enough for one day,” I said to myself as I put up my tools.  I hung the loppers and hedge clippers on nails that stuck out from a stud in the garage, put my shovel back with the others against the wall near the front and tossed my channel locks into the toolbox.  Then I returned to the backyard to empty the cut grass from the mower bag into the yard waste cart, rolled the mower into the garage and kicked off my boots before going into the house.  Once inside, I walked past the laundry room, through the dining room, my socks kind of sliding on the wood floor, and stepped into the kitchen to grab a beer from the “fridge.”  I wasn’t really thinking about anything, except the work I had left undone and where I would start next weekend.

With a cold beer in hand, I went through the sliding glass door between the kitchen and the TV room and into the backyard again.  I settled into one of the molded resin chairs by the pool, took a long, deep breath and just sorted floated into that state a person gets to after a good day’s work in the sun.  I was looking at the pool and the row of shrubs that stretched along the back edge of our property while listening to the neighbor’s dog bark.  Someone else’s mower was still going.  All in all, it was quiet and peaceful there in Cliffview, our gated neighborhood in the high desert area of Southern California.

I rubbed my brow and my eyes for a while.  I looked over at the basketball hoop that we set at the far edge of where the side driveway turned to patio, and then to lawn.  My thoughts drifted then to my son Nathan.  Half a smile crossed my face as I recalled playing some one-on-one with him.  I remembered, too, how he and his brothers, Patrick and Darrick, grumbled and moaned as they worked alongside me in the yard: fixing sprinklers, digging trenches and planting trees and shrubs.  The smile faded a little, though, when I thought about the workout routine I set up for him.  In addition to push-ups, sit-ups, running and stretching, it included one-half hour a day of shooting hoops.  I was trying to help him break a bad habit of getting high by establishing good habits of exercise.  Then I stopped smiling altogether.  Worry replaced memories.  “Where the hell is he?”

It was February in 2003.  Months had passed since Maddie or I had seen or heard from our second oldest.

Nathan should have been preparing to graduate from high school.  He should have been thinking about his future, about college, or the military, or a trade.  He should have been planning for a ski trip with friends, or Spring Break, or a summer of traveling here or abroad.  He should have been trying to talk me into helping him buy a car, or inviting his friends to the house for pool parties, or complaining about having to do more yard work, or learning how to fix a sprinkler, or spackle a hole in the wall, or lay some sod.  He should have been hiking in the mountains and deserts around southern California with his brothers and me, and we should have been talking about the world, our environment, life’s challenges, the Dodgers, football, the Lakers. At seventeen a boy needs his father as he prepares to become a man.    In 2003, Nathan should have been with me. I am his father.  And I should have been with him.

But Nathan could not be with me.  As I was about to discover, Nathan was in the county juvenile jail awaiting trial for crimes that were unthinkable in the context of our family.

*     *     *     *     *

“Dad?”  From his expression and nervous agitation, it was clear that our oldest son Patrick wanted to talk to me, but didn’t know if he wanted to tell me what he had to.

“Yea, bud?”

“Um, Dad, I was talking to Steve-o.  He said his brother saw Nathan in Sylmar.”

“He saw Nathan in Sylmar?  What does that mean?” 

Sylmar is the common name for the Barry J. Nidorf Juvenile Detention Center.  Like many detention facilities, it gets its common name from its location: Sylmar, California, a neighborhood in the northeastern part of the San Fernando Valley.  Unfortunately, this was not our first experience with juvenile detention.

Patrick, looking worried, “Steve-o’s brother was in Sylmar for having a gun or something and Nathan was there.”

I called to my wife in the other room, “Maddie, come here, you gotta hear this.”

“What do you mean Steve’s brother saw Nathan’s in Sylmar?”  

“Steve-o’s brother was just there and Nathan is there now,” said Patrick.  “But I don’t know why he’s there.”

I was becoming more upset with each question and answer, “Why was his brother in Sylmar?  What was he doing with a gun?  What’s wrong with those guys?”

I shot Maddie a look that included confusion and exasperation as I asked the next question.  “Why are you hanging around with kids who have guns?  This is ridiculous!”

At the time, I did not see the irony in my own questions.  My own son was in juvenile hall and I was asking Patrick about what was wrong with someone else’s kids.

I continued, “Patrick, this doesn’t make any sense.  Why would Nathan be in Sylmar?”  I was more than upset, now.

“I, I don’t know?”  My frustration was making him nervous, but I was unable to ask the questions in a better tone.

“Did he talk to Nathan? What did Nathan say?”

“Yea, I don’t know what he said.”

“Pat, you need to call Steve and his brother and ask him what Nathan said.  Ask him if he knows what is going on.”

“Okay.”

“And ask your other friends if they know anything.  Somebody has to know what happened.”

“Okay.”

*     *     *     *     *

By that point in our lives I was “up to here” with Nathan and his trouble making.  He had been getting into trouble of one kind or another for the better part of four years.  Somewhere between the ages of 14 and 15, my son – my upper middle class, intelligent, privileged son- walked out our front door, out of our world, and into an antisocial, criminal culture.  That terrible decision at 14 led to worse decisions at 15, 16 and finally at 17.  Somewhere in that timeline he joined a gang, a group of morons who were affiliated with the CRIPS.  The CRIPS had established a presence in our middle class community, as they and other gangs have done in many towns over the past decade.

When Patrick informed us of Nathan’s location, he had already been in juvenile hall for nearly a month.  No one contacted me about it – not his attorney, not the sheriffs, not the court, the district attorney, not Nathan’s mother (my ex-wife), or even Nathan.  Only random luck brought us the information.

On that day, none of us realized yet how far down a dark path our son and brother had gone, or how serious the situation was for him and the rest of us.  I assumed that once again he had done something stupid, something definitely delinquent but not truly criminal that would end up costing me more money, energy and time.  But it was different this time.

*     *     *     *     *

 How different?  Nathan was 17 years old when he was arrested.  I was 44.  He is 28 years old, as I write these lines.  I am 55, now.  Today, he lives in a maximum-security block of one of California’s state prisons, where he is serving what the courts call a “determinate sentence” of not less than 32 years, followed by two consecutive life sentences.  His first opportunity for parole was set for the year 2061.  The experts say that prison takes at least 10 years off your life by the age of 50.  And that effect applies to those who first arrive in prison as adults, not as a kid.  The judge that sentenced him tried to make sure that the day Nathan got his first glimpse at the chance for parole would not come during his expected life span.  Obviously, odds are he will not live to see that day.  It is a sure bet that I will be dead by then.

What happened?  What happened to my boy?  Well, that is the question that led me to write down our story for you to read.

*     *     *     *     *  

As I begin, I must caution you against something to which we are all vulnerable: jumping to conclusions.  Doing so puts one on a slippery slope that can lead to misunderstanding.  As you will see in the pages that follow, for young people who have run off the rails, the result of adults jumping to conclusions can and does lead to catastrophe.

For example, you would think that anyone who is serving a prison term of 32 years plus two consecutive life sentences with effectively no chance at parole during his lifetime must have killed, raped, or otherwise severely damaged someone else, maybe many people.  What other reason would there be for locking a person up with no hope?  Hell, even Charles Manson has received more than twelve opportunities at parole during his incarceration.  My son’s crimes must have been beyond heinous for him to get less of a chance for parole than Charles Manson.  Right?

No, not right.  All of his convictions were the result of his participation in a single botched robbery attempt when he was a thoroughly confused seventeen-year old boy under the influence and direction of adult gang members.  I will describe the facts of his crimes in more detail later in the book.  For now, the reader should know that not one person was harmed in any way, no weapons were discharged and no money was taken during the crime.  The entire episode lasted approximately ten to fifteen minutes.  When it was over, all of the victims went back to work immediately.

How could the court sentence a kid to such a ruinous term in prison for a botched robbery attempt in which no one was harmed?  In pages that follow, I am going to show how it could.  And, I am going to show you much more than that.

The fact is prior to running off the rails in epic fashion Nathan was one of the most fun, most sensitive and all around terrific kids you would ever meet.  In the span of a few years he went from being that kid to a criminal with a gun.  But he is not the only one in this story who ran off the rails.

In various ways, we all did.  That includes his parents, other adults in his life and most definitely the various authorities, institutions and systems we have that deal with kids who run into trouble for a period in their lives.

That is my opinion.  As I cautioned earlier, however, please do not jump to conclusions.  Our story is laid out before you in this book.  If you choose to go with me as I retrace the path of our lives that led to Nathan’s current status as a “lifer,” there will be plenty of information to help you form your own opinions about “the system,” us, and my son.

*     *     *     *     *

So, here is Nathan’s story.  It begins in light.  Into a deep darkness it dives.  And miraculously, now he finds him now lifting himself back into the light.  Somehow, in one of the worst places on earth, Nathan has found the best parts of himself.

What happened to my boy?  Much.

Click on this link to order Nicholas Frank’s book, “Destructive Justice”

Click below to read Nicholas Frank’s Introduction to “Destructive Justice”:

“Destructive Justice”: A Life Sentence without Cause and for No Good Reason

by Michael Mills

Rudy Guede is the originator of the claim that Meredith Kercher suspected Amanda Knox of having stolen money from her desk. This important point is easily settled.

Guede first made this claim in his very first statement to police, when questioned by German investigators on 21 November 2007, after his arrest by them and before being extradited to Italy.

Thus, the claim of Knox having stolen money from Kercher predates any influence of Guede on Mignini, who, in any case, does not seem to have given any particular weight to the “money issue”, probably because he was obsessed with the sexual factor.

In his statement to the German police, Guede said that he went to 7 Via della Pergola to meet Kercher, but she was not there, so he waited. When she arrived at about 21:00, she let him in, and then went to her room, checked the drawer in her desk where she was keeping her rent money, and found that it was missing.

According to Guede, Kercher then told him that Knox must have stolen it, and went into Knox’s room to try to find it, but without success. It was at that point in his statement that Guede stated that Knox was not present in the house.

Presumably, his motivation for stressing that Knox was not present was to provide an explanation for how Kercher could allegedly have gone into Knox’s room and searched it.

The most plausible explanation for Guede’s claim that Kercher suspected Knox of having stolen her rent money is that he himself had stolen that money from Kercher’s purse after attacking and fatally wounding her; his bloody fingerprint was found inside the purse during the police investigation after the discovery of the murder.

Another crucial feature of Guede’s statement to the German police on 21 November is that nowhere in it does he claim that Knox was ever at the scene of the murder at any time while he, Guede, was present. He states specifically that in the period between when he was admitted to the house by Kercher and when he began his extended sojourn in the toilet, Knox was not present, and he also does not mention her being present after he came out of the toilet and confronted an unknown man who had killed Kercher, presumably after gaining access in some unknown way.

As I see it, Guede’s statement to German police on 21 November 2007, made before he could have come under the influence of the Perugia police or of Mignini,is proof positive that Knox was not present in the house during the murder of Kercher. He knew from the newspapers that both she and Sollecito had been arrested and charged with the murder, so if the two of them had been present there would have been no motive for him to have denied that fact.

The normal reaction of a person who has in reality committed a crime in concert with others, and is then accused of that crime, is to blame those other participants and minimise his own role. But that is precisely what Guede did not do in his initial statement; he blamed the murder on a mysterious stranger, rather than on the two persons he knew had already been arrested and charged with the crime.

Why did Guede not finger Knox and Sollecito immediately, which would have been easy to do?

The most likely reason is that he knew very well that they had not been present in the house when Kercher was murdered, and therefore there would be no hard evidence against them and they would be released, leaving him as the only perpetrator. Accordingly, he needed to invent an imaginary perpetrator in order to exculpate himself.

Most probably, it was only when Guede realised that Mignini was determined to continue with the prosecution of Knox and Sollecito, despite his having had to release Lumumba for lack of evidence, that he began to substitute Sollecito and Knox for the imaginary unknown perpetrator described in his initial statement to the German police.

Please click below to view Michael Mills’ previous posts on the Knox-Sollecito murder case:

Foxy Knoxy Is a Political Soccer Ball

How Politics Knock on Amanda Knox!

Under Pressure: A. Knox and R. Sollecito Find Meredith Kercher’s Body

How and Why Rudy Guede Was a Lone Wolf Assailant in the Murder of Meredith Kercher

Michael Mills is a retired Australian Public Servant. He is 66 years old, has a keen interest in history and current affairs, and posts regularly on online history forums. Like many, he was appalled by the recent re-conviction of Amanda Knox and Raffaele Sollecito, and after substantial intensive research, he has developed the theory of the case that he sets forth herein.

A warm All Things Crime Blog welcome to Amanda Seaton, our newest guest contributor.

by Amanda Seaton

When a child is born, parents have a tendency to believe that the infant is that perfect child, flawless if you will, but inevitably that same child grows up to be a toddler, then a preschooler, next comes elementary school, then the challenging teenage years, and eventually adulthood. We can rest assured that throughout the growth process, although parents may think or fantasize any number of things about their precious child, no parent looks at their child and thinks that they are going to grow up and shock the entire nation with their actions; not one parent thinks their kid is going to be a sadistic serial killer, necrophiliac, cannibal and sex offender. Born on May 21, 1960 in West Allis, Wisconsin, Jeffrey Dahmer came into this world as a beautiful, bouncing baby boy, showing no immediate signs that he would one day grow up and become one of American’s most notorious serial killers and sex offenders, all before turning 35. Dahmer had a relatively normal child hood, according to multiple sources, but interviews with Dahmer himself speak quite differently of growing up in the Dahmer family home.

Dahmer reportedly had a fetish for killing animals, mostly impaling them on stakes. Even though he had been killing these animals since the tender age of four, his parents failed to seek help. Correct me if I am wrong, but most four-year-old children do not think it’s a bright idea to take a stick and impale an animal on it, but this was normal in Jeffrey’s world. In high-school, Jeffrey was much the recluse, but maintained consistently decent grades. It seems to have been quite a blow to Jeffrey when his parents divorced right before his 18th birthday, which was, oddly enough, the year that he took his first victim. Nonetheless, he made it to adulthood, after a fashion, living in Milwaukee, Wisconsin and working at the Milwaukee Ambrosia Chocolate Factory as a mixer.

Dahmer lived a good portion of his life as a closet gay man and collected most of his victims from gay bars. Others he found hitch-hiking on the side of the road. He was only 18 when he first killed in 1978. This would become one of the most remarked upon killings in American history — the murder of Steven Hicks who Dahmer murdered with a 10-pound-weight in his father’s Ohio home. Dahmer managed to tough it out for nine years before he murdered again — Steven Tuomi was his second victim in 1987, but Dahmer would later claim that he had no recollection of killing that young man. After the second killing, the memory of the adrenaline rush at the time of the dark deeds took deep root in his body and mind. He chose two more victims in 1988, yet another in 1989 and by 1991, the grim death march had caught fire; Dahmer began killing a new victim every week before finally being caught.

Dahmer defied everything investigators, psychologists, and behavioral specialists knew about serial killers and the way they operate. He showed no apparent liking for one particular race or ethnic background, no particular liking of a certain age group as his victims were as young as 13 all the way up to bar-room age. Like Ted Bundy, Dahmer allowed his fantasies to overcome him to the point that he was driven to act them out. Jeffrey not only killed his victims; he literally gutted them like animals, put their body parts in formaldehyde and saved the meat for stew, like some kind of everyday diner plan.

Dahmer made a name for himself because he literally went above and beyond, challenging much that had been previously been believed about the way serial killers operate. In the end, Dahmer was found guilty of 17 murders and was sentenced to nearly one-thousand years behind bars. Two short years into his sentence, Dahmer was bludgeoned to death in prison by another inmate who told investigators and the court that God had told him to kill Dahmer. Shortly after that, Dahmer’s parents went to court to fight over the ownership rights to Dahmer’s brain. Dahmer’s parents would not to let their son’s brain be studied for scientific purposes. His body was cremated and in the end his brain was too which is incredibly sad because science could have learned much by undertaking a diligent study of this frightening man’s brain.

Amanda Seaton is a freelance writer/editor and graduate student. Ms. Seaton earned a Bachelors of Science degree in Criminal Justice and Homeland Security in April of 2013, and began a Masters of Science program in Forensics in June of 2013 where she is acing every class.

posted by Patrick H. Moore

On February 6, 1943, the famed film actor Errol Flynn, after a month-long trial, was acquitted of the rapes and statutory rapes of Peggy Satterlee and Betty Hansen. The jury deliberated for 13 hours before returning with their unanimous not guilty verdict. According to Trove, Flynn, who had been uncharacteristically subdued throughout the lengthy ordeal, shouted gleefully upon hearing the good news:

Gosh! I feel like whooping!

We’re not sure if “whooping” is a euphemism for sexual intercourse but it certainly sounds like one.  What is known is that while the trial was going on, Mr. Flynn was pursuing and romancing 18-year old Nora Eddington, a teenage redhead who was the lobby cigarette girl at the courthouse. Flynn, who was never shy about expressing himself, explained:

I carefully checked her age. She was eighteen, safe ground. Her name, it turned out, was Nora Eddington.  What I didn’t know was that her father was Captain Jack Eddington of the Los Angeles County Sheriff’s Office.

Flynn later married Nora Eddington, but like his other marriages, it was doomed to fail.

The  jury forewoman, a Mrs. Anderson, explained that during the 13 hours the jury was out, there were seven votes of 10 to 2 in favor of an acquittal. Finally, however, the two “hold- outs” capitulated. While all this was going on, Flynn literally could not  sit still and “lit one cigarette after another while rising from his chair and sitting down again.”

Naturally, the courtroom went wild when the verdict was finally read.  In addition to shouting about the joys of “whooping,” Flynn“jumped from his chair and rushed across the court-room to the jury and shook hands enthusiastically with the forewoman and others. Spectators cheered and crowded around Flynn and thumped his back.”

The Judge stated that he believed that the evidence was evenly divided but that  he felt the verdict was correct.

Flynn, who has been accused of many things including having Nazi leanings, commented in an interview:

It’s wonderful news. I did not become an American citizen for nothing. The fair play I received at this trial proves that. My confidence in American justice kept me hoping for such a verdict.

Peggy Satterlee said: “I knew those women would acquit him. They just sat and looked adoringly at him as if he was their son or something. The trial was an awful strain and the verdict horrible. I wish they had taken Betty Hansen and left me out. I was working and minding my own business.”

Given Errol Flynn’s “skin of his teeth” escape, not unlike his many magnificent escapes in his swashbuckling films, one can’t help but wonder who his adversaries were. Who were Peggy Satterlee and Betty Hansen?

Sir! A Magazine for Males, October, 1954, brings us this on Flynn and the two young ladies:

It seems that Flynn got entangled with two lovely young things at two different times in the space of a year. One was a Miss Betty Hansen, aged 17; the other a Peggy Satterlee of even more tender years.

The girls were irked with Flynn and their parents were irked with him. The State of California, having been duly applied to, decided to try him for both charges at one and the same time.  The public, to say the least, never had it better.

Flynn claimed that the whole thing was ridiculous; although he knew the girls, he had no knowledge that they were under 18. Flynn had a point. Both young women appeared to be of the age of legal consent:

Miss Satterlee danced at N.T.O’s Florentine Gardens, clad mostly in a plunge neckline, and Miss Hansen had come to the coast with movie ambitions.  When dressed for the kill, they could, both of them, have been an attractive pair of youngish grandmothers, what with their warpaint and mascara.

Satterlee and Hansen, however, hardly looked like “youngish grandmothers” in the courtroom. No doubt their attorneys had advised them on the need for innocent presentation:

Miss Satterlee appeared without even powder, clad in a little girl’s billowy dress and flat wedgies, and she had her hair artfully rigged in two long braids down her back caught with fetching bows.

She could have been ten. And Miss Hansen, also eschewing cosmetics, wore flat heeled shoes and a plain drab smock.

Miss Hansen was the first to take the stand. She claimed to have gone to dinner at the home of Flynn’s friend, McEvoy, where she had been given an “evil green drink” which had made her very sick. Always the gentleman, Flynn had taken her upstairs to take a “nap.” He had also helped her undress. On cross-examination, Flynn’s lawyer, the famed Jerry Geisler, inquired of Miss Hansen:

“But when you found you were not going to sleep, didn’t you try and push him away?”

Miss Hansen admitted she had not pushed him, kicked him or scratched him.

Miss Satterlee’s testimony was similar in nature except, in this case, Flynn’s unwanted advances had taken place on his yacht, the Sirocco. She stated that she had not screamed for help even though there were people nearby. She stated quaintly that she had not thought it worthwhile because: “the refrigerator was running.” With logic like that, it’s not surprising that Flynn was acquitted on both charges. Newsweek (yes they had Newsweek way back then) stated:

It happened in the best Hollywood tradition. The defendant leaped joyfully to his feet.  Spectators cheered. Flashbulbs popped…”

Flynn  was innocent. Not one seemed to be particularly put out over the not guilty verdict, not even Betsy Hansen’s mother who issued a statement from her home in Lincoln, Nebraska:

Oh well, nobody got hurt. I have no hard feeling toward Mr. Flynn. Betty is the cutest little thing you ever saw…a clean little Christian girl!

MORE ON THE TRIAL

Jurors are prone to speaking out following verdicts and the Flynn jurors were no exception. Motion Picture in conjunction  with Hollywood Magazine brings us the following:

What really convinced the jury that he was innocent?

With MOTION PICTURE-HOLLYWOOD’S policy of bringing you the inside story behind all front-page Hollywood news, we went to the individual jurors and asked them. Nine women and three men—all mature, intelligent and conscientious—sat in on the fate of Flynn, but because they are respectable citizens with families and want to avoid the spotlight, we have respected their desire for privacy by not quoting any member by name.

One of the jurors told me significantly, “It was not so much Flynn’s testimony that helped him as it was the testimony of both the girls who brought charges against him.”

“Their testimony proved to us that they were not always telling the truth. For instance, Betty Hansen first said that she undressed herself, and then said that Flynn had undressed her. During the preliminary hearing she said that the alleged act took place on a large bed in a large room, but on the stand she said it was a small bed in an alcove.”

The appearance of the girls did their cases no good either, according to the jurors. “There were no tears, no grief in recalling the alleged acts. We felt that a girl whose virtue had been molested would be unable to control her emotions on recalling the incident, but Betty Hansen and Peggy Satterlee were belligerent and displayed no regret.

“Besides, Mrs. Satterlee knew that her daughter was living in the apartment of a married man and was accepting money and gifts from him.”

“I felt sure,” a pleasant-faced, motherly juror told me, “that Betty Hansen first brought charges against Flynn out of hurt feelings and a sudden desire for revenge, and that when her case was weak, Peggy Satterlee was brought in.”

“Betty, on the other hand, was furious at Errol Flynn because he had paid no attention to her at Fred McEvoy’s party which she had crashed. She had come uninvited to that party with the express purpose of playing up to Mr. Flynn to obtain his help in getting into pictures…”

The jury was alert, not only in weighing every word uttered in court, but in making their sage analysis of the evidence displayed. The snapshots of Peggy Satterlee in a bathing suit taken on Sunday a few hours after she said she was attacked, told them plenty. “She looked happy and carefree, not at all like a girl who had suffered a harrowing physical experience as she had claimed.”

Not a thing missed their keen scrutiny. When Peggy told how she and Cathcart-Jones had played tag one night in a mortuary and how she had placed her face next to that of a dead man, they were revolted and arrived at the conclusion that a girl who could do that must be too calloused to be as deeply hurt as she said she was.

The Judge himself admonished the jurors that a birth certificate need not be viewed as conclusive evidence.

“We never felt that the girls were as young as they claimed,” several jurors explained. “Betty told us that she had been graduated from high school and then had gone to Teachers’ Training for two years before she came to Hollywood. Even a very bright girl—which Betty obviously was not—couldn’t have accomplished so much under the age of 17. Peggy looked and acted worldly; and on many occasions had sworn that she was older. For instance, she and her mother insisted that she was 18 when she applied for a driver’s license, and she said she was 21 when she applied for a job at a night club. Apparently she thought nothing of adjusting her age to suit the circumstances.”

One of the jurors stated that Errol Flynn’s reputation as a glamorous Hollywood star had no influence in her decision to vote for acquittal:

“Believe me,” one of the women told me, “I have seen him on the screen only once. I looked upon him as a man seeking justice, not as a dashing film star with a handsome profile…”

How can one argue with such eloquence?

THE week after Errol Flynn’s trial was over, the boys and girls who attended it and wrote it up gave him a party where the whole cast was re-enacted, amidst much merriment. The party was in payment for one Errol threw for them on the ninth floor of the Hall of Justice, while the jury was out cogitating as to his guilt or innocence. Errol had his butler bring down two cases of liquor and lots of sandwiches, and a merry time was had by all except the judge and jury. Errol also wanted time on the radio to thank the Great American Public for giving him such a fair trial. Networks wouldn’t go for it.

FLYNN’S AFTERMATH

Naturally, we can’t help wondering what happened to Fynn after the trial. It is noted that the well-known expression: “In Like Flynn” stems from his acquittal. The website For Shame! brings us the following:

Errol’s career didn’t really suffer from the trial, but rather from negative public opinion when he didn’t enlist during WWII (sidenote: not his fault, he wanted to, didn’t pass the physical, remarkable considering sword choreography prowess which you’d think the Army could use somehow). By the early 50s he’d really embraced a late-Kerouacian diet of cake and whiskey, resulting in alcoholism and weight gain.

But Errol, the scalawag, the rapscallion, had to go out with an inappropriately younger bang: at the age of 50, he met and fell in love with a FIFTEEN YEAR OLD whom he planned TO MARRY and with whom he planned to move to Jamaica. Very, very unfortunately, Errol died of a heart attack in 1959 before he could really love or marry his little island childbride. Sad.

Although the moralists among us may despise Errol Flynn for his caddish, inappropriate and downright sexist behavior (not to mention his alleged Nazi leanings), he never seemed to express any regrets for his many flaws. But what can you expect from a man who stated in his typically flippant manner:

“I like my scotch old and my woman young.”

In attempting to unpack the artificially complex series of events that led to Meredith Kercher’s tragic death, a key but often overlooked factor is Rudy Guede’s account of how he came to be in Ms. Kercher’s flat at 7 Via della Pergola on the evening of 1 November 2007, namely that he had a date with her and she had admitted him to the house. Curiously, this explanation corresponds exactly to the original police theory of how the murder was committed.

On 4 November, only two days after the discovery of the murder, the Perugia police officer in charge of the investigation, Marco Chiacchiera, told British journalists on the record that his working hypothesis was that Kercher had been killed by a man she had met at a Halloween party on the evening of 31 October, whom she had invited to come to her house on the following evening. According to reports in the British press, Chiacchiera theorised that that man had come to Kercher’s place of residence on the evening of 1 November and had been admitted by her. Subsequently, the “houseguest” had coerced her into sexual activity, perhaps by threatening her with a knife, and had then killed her when she threatened to report him to the police.

It may be presumed that Chiacchiera’s hypothesis was not constructed out of thin air, but was based on witness testimony that Kercher attended a Halloween party in a public venue and had been seen talking to a number of men, one of whom was possibly the murderer.

The close correspondence between Chiacchiera’s theory and Guede’s account given to the German police (and maintained by him ever since) has two possible explanations:

1. While Guede was on the run in Germany, and before he was arrested by the German police, he read about Chiacchiera’s hypothesis when it was published in the British press, and decided to incorporate it into a cover story that he was constructing in the expectation that he would eventually be captured.

2. Guede’s story is true to the extent that he did have a date with Kercher, she did admit him to her place of residence, and they did have some sort of low-level sexual contact. The other elements of the story he told the German police: that Kercher had accused Knox of stealing her rent money, and that the murder was committed by some mysterious man who had gained entry by some unexplained means, are obviously falsehoods designed to exculpate himself from the murder of Kercher and the theft of the 300 euro that was found to be missing from her purse.

The first of the above explanations would be consistent with the theory that Guede broke in through the window of flat mate Romanelli’s room for the purpose of stealing the rent money that he knew the four women were holding, was surprised when Kercher returned at about 21:00, and killed her in a panic.

The second explanation would be consistent with the police theory that the break-in to Romanelli’s room had been staged by the murderer in order to give the impression that the murder had been committed by a complete stranger rather than by a person known to Kercher, whom she had admitted to the house.

It is noteworthy that the Massei judgment (the initial conviction of Amanda Knox and Raffaele Sollecito) did canvas the possibility that Guede had staged the break-in, but dismissed the hypothesis on the grounds that Guede would not have wanted to draw attention to himself by staging a break-in that imitated his own modus operandi for committing other burglaries.

The weakness with Massei’s argument is its implicit assumption that at the time of the murder of Kercher, Guede had a modus operandi as a burglar that was known to the Perugia police. However, so far as I know, there is no hard evidence that the police had any such knowledge; his only offences known to Italian law enforcement at that time were his trespassing on the grounds of a nursery school in Milan and his possession of goods stolen from an office in Perugia.

It should be noted that there was no evidence of Guede having forced his way into the nursery school, and that the proprietor of the school suspected that he had gained entry by obtaining a key from one of her female employees, whom he might have met in a bar.

That suspicion on the part of the proprietor indicates that her impression of Guede, whom she encountered only under the unfavourable circumstance of finding him trespassing on her property, was that of a man who was attractive enough to women to be able to persuade them to do surreptitious things. If that was her impression, it lends support to the theory that Guede could have persuaded Kercher to admit him into her house and then convinced her to engage in some sort of sexual contact with him.

While this hypothesis may be rejected by those who insist Meredith Kercher was pure as the driven snow, it actually humanizes her in a way which is both true to life and supremely tragic. It is well-known that Rudy Guede had struck up an acquaintanceship with several of the male residents of 7 Via della Pergola – why not one of the females as well?

Please click below to view Michael Mills’ previous posts on the Knox-Sollecito murder case:

Rudy Guede Lifts the Weight off Amanda Knox’s Chest (and Puts It Back on Again)

Foxy Knoxy Is a Political Soccer Ball

How Politics Knock on Amanda Knox!

Under Pressure: A. Knox and R. Sollecito Find Meredith Kercher’s Body

How and Why Rudy Guede Was a Lone Wolf Assailant in the Murder of Meredith Kercher

Michael Mills is a retired Australian Public Servant. He is 66 years old, has a keen interest in history and current affairs, and posts regularly on online history forums. Like many, he was appalled by the recent re-conviction of Amanda Knox and Raffaele Sollecito, and after substantial intensive research, he has developed the theory of the case that he sets forth in this series of posts.

by BJW Nashe

These days, if you’re going to start robbing banks or convenience stores, you need to put some effort into personal style and fashion. You are certain to be caught on surveillance video at some point during your escapades. Soon your appearance will be on the Internet for all to see–much like celebrities who grace the red carpets of awards shows. So there’s no excuse to neglect the fashion component of your criminal activity.

Lately we have seen criminals exploring a wide variety of styles — from glamorous cross-dressing to casual grunge to silly disguises — with varying degrees of success. No matter what, they have definitely been turning heads at the FBI. Here are some notable examples:

On May 20, a woman robbed a bank in Stuart, Iowa while wearing a striking green gown described as a “mullet dress,” since it’s short in front and long in the back. Surveillance footage shows that the slim, 5’4“ woman had long, dark reddish-brown hair, and carried a handbag slung over her shoulder. Authorities are still trying to figure out if the suspect is an actual woman, or a transvestite. Either way, all agree that as a pure fashion statement, this robbery was a big success.

Leonard Brown Jr., known by police as the “Stretchy Pants Bandit,” was caught on camera robbing a bank in Ceres, California in September 2012. His ensemble included a dark wig and women’s “flashdance-style” aerobics clothing. No one doubts that this was a large black man dressed as a female. And RuPaul doesn’t have anything to worry about, in terms of being upstaged by “Ms. Brown.”

According to the FBI, a woman known as the “Plain Jane Bandit” has robbed seven banks in Southern California since July 2012. She earned her nickname by pulling jobs without any makeup, and usually wearing sweats, with no hairstyle to speak of. Sometimes in the world of crime, “non-style” is a style in itself.

The “AK-47 Bandit” is a traditionalist. In 2012 he hit one bank in North Bend, Washington and then another in Chino, California. This past March, he managed to shoot and wound a police officer while robbing a bank in Vacaville. He tends to wear a black ski-mask, dark earth-toned shirts and trousers, and always carries an AK-47 assault rifle. It is a forceful, functional look that works well in any bank robbery.

Colton Harris-Moore, known as the “Barefoot Bandit,” led police on a two-year crime spree involving stolen cars, boats, and planes. For obvious reasons, he wasn’t shoplifting any shoes. Perhaps his barefoot antics indicated a willingness to dispense with clothing altogether, and head in the direction of fully nude crimes. We’ll never know, however, since Harris-Moore was eventually captured, and is now reduced to wearing flip-flops in a Washington State prison.

In July 2010 a man was caught on camera robbing a New York City bank while carrying a large bouquet of flowers. The note he reportedly handed over to bank personnel demanded cash, and stated, “Don’t be a hero.” The flowers, by all accounts, smelled lovely, and added an element of mystery and romance to the crime.

In Australia, a woman known as the “Buxom Bandit” was caught on camera with a male companion holding up a gas station with a knife. She earned her nickname for two obvious reasons, which were barely covered by the plunging neckline of her top. If you got it, flaunt it–especially when it comes to armed robbery.

 The “Geezer Bandit” looks like an 85 year-old man as he shuffles up to the bank teller and demands cash. His wrinkled face is partially obscured by sunglasses and a baseball cap, though. After his most recent robbery in California, he was seen sprinting across the parking lot. The authorities think the geezer look might be a disguise.

The “Fat Clown Robber” in Redding, California became an Internet sensation in late March when security cameras videotaped his botched attempt to bust into a convenience store in the middle of the night. The huge gut, stocking cap, and colorful pajama bottoms are a sure way to make a spectacle out of yourself during any crime. And if you fall flat on your face when trying to make your getaway, you will no doubt gain some “fans.”

So there you have it. Any wannabe armed robbers out there might want to take this lesson to heart. If you’re going to stick up a bank or a gas station or a convenience store, your “look” matters. The cameras will be rolling. Soon the cops will give you a nickname. Then the fashionistas will start weighing in. It may be your last chance to make a statement, before you end up in a faded prison jumpsuit.

We do not see things as they are.  We see them as we are.

Before Nathan’s arrest and transfer to the adult criminal court system, the thought that one of my kids could be part of an attempted robbery in which he pointed a gun at someone else had no meaningful place in my mind.  Real crime was a newspaper story, or a television show, a set of soulless statistics or fuel for political rhetoric.  Drugs, guns, gangs and prisons had no personal relevance for my family.

Of course, I did not think we were immune to negative and destructive elements of life.  The terrible custody battles we endured were all the evidence I needed to know that sometimes things go horribly wrong.  I did not, however, even consider the thought that things could go so far wrong that one of my own kids could become a criminal.  It feels kind of silly now to state that I guess I thought that fate belonged to others, not to us.

*     *     *     *     *

Our New Reality

Nevertheless, not yet eighteen, having demonstrated and verified his incompetence in a legitimate and sustainable adult world and having been judged already to be unfit to be tried as a juvenile, my son Nathan was thrust into the world of the adult criminal system, where life in prison was a possibility, where he would not regain his bearings until it was too late, where he would never understand the significance or context of the proceedings and their potential devastation for him, where he should never have been.  His transfer meant two things.  First, he would face trial as an adult, regardless of his actual age or maturity.  Second, he would be held in adult facilities from now on.

They were quick to move Nathan from Sylmar to Men’s Central Jail following their finding that he was “unfit” for the juvenile system.   After that move, however, things slowed to a crawl.  Months passed between Nathan’s transfer and his first days in adult court.  During those months, our 120 lbs. boy faced conditions and situations that tested his will to survive and his very soul.

Nathan began calling the house more frequently.  Things between us were improving, slightly.  That is what I told myself anyway.  Phone conversations were not nearly enough, however, to give us a sense of his condition.  We needed to see him in person.  It had been more than a year since we had laid eyes on him.  I was incredibly grateful when he agreed to have us visit him at Men’s Central Jail.

On October 4, 2003, Maddie, Darrick, Leanne and I dragged ourselves down to Bauchet St. in Los Angeles.

People who live in the northeast or midwest might expect October mornings in LA to be warm.  They would be surprised to discover that surrounded by concrete, litter, asphalt and gutter run-off, with an indifferent wind blowing down man-made canyons between heartless buildings on an early Sunday morning, it is very cold in LA.

We drove around a bit to find parking.  It was new territory for all of us, in spite of the fact that my work regularly took me into Los Angeles I had never been to this place.  As we passed by the monstrous jail complex, we all looked at the surprisingly long line that had formed for visiting and we realized we were in for a long wait.  Finally, we found the parking garage.  We made sure we locked the car before we joined the informal parade of people walking to the visitor’s line at the jail.

The Los Angeles County Men’s Central Jail has a design capacity for 5,000 inmates.  Its sister facility, the Twin Towers, is designed for 7,000 inmates.  Both are chronically overstuffed and will only get fuller with the brilliant plan the State of California has for reducing its state prison population by sending prisoners to the overcrowded jails.  Ridiculous.

*     *     *     *     *

We filed into line and began the impossibly slow march to the front door.  If you don’t get to the door by the cut-off, they send you home and all the hours you waited are for naught.  That happened to us once.

Three hours after we took our places in the visitor’s line, we reached the front door of the jail’s visiting lobby and entered, and not too soon for us.  What started out as a cold early morning became progressively hotter in the Los Angeles sun.  It was good to get in-doors.  Our work, however, was not done.  The next step was to check-in.  More lines.  At least the inside lines moved more quickly.  After check-in, we received a paper pass to what they call a visiting row.  On the pass was the time for our visit and the window number where Nathan would appear.  After getting our pass we found some seats on one of the many benches in the waiting room and listened for our number to be called for visit.

The mostly pleasant, cooperative and communal demeanor that characterized the visiting crowd outside in line disappeared inside.  Just the confinement of the waiting room, even though it is expansive, had everyone on edge.  People who spoke freely outside turned their eyes away from their former comrades and sat on opposite sides of the room.  While we were there, the toilets in the women’s restroom backed-up.  .  That led to a great deal of yelling and cussing.  We were on pins and needles during that first visit.  I wondered how the guys inside dealt with the crowding, the sewage back-ups and everything else that being confined in a collapsing institution means.

Finally, we heard our name and proceeded to our visiting row.  Essentially, a visiting row is a like a narrow hallway with one way in and out.  On either side, is a row of stools with low backrests that are bolted to the floor.  There is one stool for each visiting window.  Mounted in metal to the side of the window is a phone receiver.  The windows are made of thick security glass that separates inmates from visitor.    Privacy shields separate one window from another.  On the other side of the windows are similar set-ups for the inmates.  As we took our place, we waited for Nathan to come in with the other prisoners.

At last, we saw him.  He had lost far too much weight and looked generally unhealthy.  I did not feel good.  I had so much to say to him, so much to ask.  But, we really wouldn’t get the chance.  Visiting hours at Men’s Central Jail meant 15 minutes.  Everyone wanted to say something.  So, our conversation was short, superficial and filled with I love you from Maddie and me.

Nathan smiled.  I hoped that he was grateful we were there.  I also hoped that he would start thinking clearly.  What I saw at that visit, however, was not what I hoped to see.  He was still quite arrogant, even contemptuous of the DA and the police.  The bullshit flowed: “It wasn’t even me…Trejo been after me for a long time” – that kind of thing.  I told him I was going to find an attorney to represent him.  Then the phone turned off.  The guards called to him and the others in that visiting tranche.  The inmates stood up as a unit.  Then they were led back to the hellish world we could not see.

The Tower of London, LA style

When I call the world inside the Los Angeles County jail system a “hellish world,” it does not begin to describe how horrible it is.  After our visit, we returned to our car, then to our home.  Nathan returned to a world of rampant, uncontrolled violence, vendettas facilitated by the guards, roving factions of gangs taking out hits on rivals and more.  No one should have to confront such an environment – least of all kids whom the justice system claims to have magically turned into adults.

The LA County system is jam-packed.  Nonviolent offenders such as drug addicts who can’t stop using, embezzlers, check kiters, forgers, drunks, homeless, etc. are packed alongside the murderers, rival gangsters, carjackers, rapists, and more.  Perverts, child molesters, and people who are just too weird are there, too.  The mentally ill, those who are in danger and those who are dangerous, wander throughout this confined, overcrowded population, at risk to themselves and others.  Convicts on their way to state prison, and convicts are their way back down from state prison are there.  Somehow our justice system has determined that it is perfectly okay to send juveniles there to fend for themselves with all the adults.  If an adolescent boy that the system has decided to treat like a man is arrested in Los Angeles County, chances are he will spend from a few days to a few years packed like a sardine into the overstuffed Men’s Central Jail while he waits for his trial or, if found guilty, waits for his transfer to state prison.

At last count, Men’s Central housed at least twice the number of prisoners it was designed to handle.  Within this overcrowded, obsolete facility the fundamental rules of humane behavior have broken down.  The result is confined anarchy.  Incredibly, authorities have known about this situation and done little to nothing for more than a decade.

Many years after he left there, Nathan told me about one of his earliest experiences in the LA County jail.  He recounted one occasion when he was called out of his cell for a visit.  The visiting protocol at Men’s Central includes lining up alongside other prisoners in an open hallway on what is called the 2000 floor.  Inmates are instructed to face a row of mailboxes in the wall.

Nathan was standing, facing the mailbox when an adult white skinhead came up behind him and screamed in his ear.  “What the fuck are you looking at?”

Nathan turned around to face the guy, who was substantially larger than he.  In fact, pretty much everyone was substantially larger than Nathan in those days.  He looked at the skinhead for a couple of seconds and knew what was coming.  So he hit him square in the face with all he had.

The guy didn’t even flinch.  He picked Nathan up by his waist and another skinhead came running out of a room across the hall and grabbed Nathan’s legs.  The two of them carried him into room 2900 across the hall and proceeded to beat him unconscious.  Remember, this is all taking place in an open hallway where inmates line up before being led by guards to their visits with family and friends.

Nathan does not recall what happened next, except he knew from his injuries that they continued to beat him even after he was knocked out.  Finally, a “turnkey” – that is a deputy sheriff who has not finished all of his training – came into the room and shouted, “What are you guys doing?”  That’s what woke Nathan back up.

They put him back in line and in a daze he walked down to the visiting phones.

I have no doubt that the two skinheads would have killed him if they had a few more minutes.  Nathan knows it for a fact.

Nathan: “Dad, there wasn’t a day in that place when I wasn’t in a fight or a riot.”

In another incident, he was nearly killed in the cell he and five others occupied by a prisoner known as Tiny Yokes.  Nathan said he and Tiny were friends.  Or so he thought.

Tiny Yokes walked with a limp, a reminder of a shoot-out he had been involved in years earlier.  He was, however, massively muscled – “yoked” as they say.

On the day he nearly killed Nathan, Tiny had been drinking “pruno,” the homemade wine that prisoners make in their cells.  He had drunk so much he was incoherent and needed help to the toilet before pissing on himself.  So, Nathan was helping him.  As Nathan was getting him up to walk, Tiny was rambling and mumbling. “They’re trying to kill me.   They’re trying to kill me.”

Suddenly, he grabbed Nathan by the throat, thinking he was someone else.

 Nathan:           “It all happened so fast I didn’t even really know what happened.  One second I am helping him to the toilet, the next second he has me by the throat and he lifts me up above his head.  He was tall, about 6’2”, so he lifted me so high that my head hit the ceiling.  Bang!

I couldn’t talk because his grip was so strong on my throat.  I was just moving my mouth and looking right at Tiny.  I was trying to get him to recognize me by using my eyes to ask him what he was doing.  I was looking right into his eyes.  But he was hallucinating.  Then I passed out.

He must have dropped me when I passed out, because I woke up on the floor.  When I came to, he was climbing up on the rack to get to the stash of weapons we had hidden in the light panel in the ceiling.  That’s when everyone else grabbed him.

We didn’t want him to go maniac on everyone with weapons.”

Me:                  “You guys had weapons in the jail?  How the hell do you get weapons in there?

Nathan:           “Dad, they have everything in there.  Hell, there’s more drugs and stuff in there than on the streets.”

Me:                  “Did he get any of the weapons?”

Nathan:           “Yea.  We got most of it, but he got a sock full of homemade knives.  Everyone moved away from him.  He was a powerful dude.  He was sitting there, kind of rubbing the sock.  I said to him, Tiny, do you know what you have there?  I was trying to be very calm so he wouldn’t lose it again.  He said, “Yea, it’s a sock,” as he held it in his lap just, like, petting it.  I said, “No Tiny, it’s not just a sock.  You need to give it over here.”  And I slowly reached up and took a hold of it.  “Okay,” he said.  Then he passed out on the top bunk and pissed all over himself.

The next day he woke up and it was like nothing even happened.  He didn’t remember anything.”

Beyond the individual violence that was a regular part of life, riots took off without warning, and without any discernable reason.  Survival depended on knowing which gangs were fighting each other and whether or not you were suddenly obligated to join in.

Many of the guards were as dangerous as the prisoners.  The equivalent of a guard’s gang has developed.  Stepping out of line earns an inmate, among other horrors, an invitation to a “boot party.”  A “boot party” happens when members of the gang of guards pulls a prisoner aside and beat him to within an inch of his life.  The deputy sheriffs, not the prisoners coined that phrase.  It got its name because it always involves knocking a guy to the ground, then kicking and stomping him when he is down.  Men do not get up from a “boot party.”  More than once Nathan heard deputies in the jails bragging about how they “stomped the shit” out of a guy.

In the past few years, the LA County jail system has been under investigation by a variety of official commissions, the ACLU, the FBI, federal courts and more.  Boot parties have come out of the shadows and into the light as a number of civilian witnesses have given declarations about what they saw.  In a typical example, a chaplain who ministers to inmates tells of hearing thumps and gasps in one of the jail’s hallways.  He stepped out of a cell where he was ministering to an inmate to see three deputies beating the face and body of an inmate who was pinned against the wall.  The inmate did not resist at all.  It looked like he was handcuffed.  Eventually, he collapsed face first on the hard floor.  Once he was down, more deputies joined the fray and all began to kick his head and body.  Even after the inmate was completely limp, the deputies continued to kick and stomp until they noticed the Chaplain watching.  What he witnessed was a classic “boot party.”

When he wasn’t fighting for his life or preparing to do so, Nathan was stressing about an uncontained outbreak of MRSA, the antibiotic-resistant staff infection that continues to disfigure inmates on a regular basis, or the rats that ran through the cells – the only residents who were happy to be there, or the frequent midnight cries of “Water!!” that told everyone on the tier that the sanitary sewers had backed up again and were pumping raw sewage across the entire floor.  Entire cellblocks would be covered in 2” to 6” of raw sewage.

The ACLU has called Men’s Central Jail a “dungeon” that can drive inmates insane.  During hearings a federal judge stated that LA County was housing inmates in ways that did not meet basic human values and called for immediate reforms.

We had an idea, but a thoroughly insufficient idea, of what Nathan was walking back into when we ended our visits.  And he never mentioned a thing in those days.  I do not know how he kept that kind of experience to himself, or made it through it.

Click on this link to order Nicholas Frank’s book, “Destructive Justice”

Click below to read Nicholas Frank’s pevious “Destructive Justice” posts:

“Destructive Justice”: The Worst News in the World

“Destructive Justice”: A Life Sentence without Cause and for No Good Reason

commentary by Patrick H. Moore

Since I started All Things Crime Blog 15 months ago with the able help of BJW Nashe and Michael D. Sellers, the director of the film “Karla”, I have been flung into the world of social media. It’s a big world and there are still many parts of it that I do not understand. For example, trying to stay on the good side of the folks at Reddit may always prove a mystery.

One thing I’ve discovered is that blogging and utilizing social media is a form of addiction which is probably at least as addictive as heroin or crack cocaine. And like addiction to a powerful drug, blogging induces a powerful “kick” or “rush” when things are going well. The difference, of course, is that the addiction to blogging is psychological, not physical as is the case with heroin. Again using drugs as an analogy, however, suggests that addiction to certain drugs is far more psychological than physical, crack cocaine and methamphetamine being the prime examples. (Heroin, of course, is notorious for causing both physical and psychological dependency.)

The tricky thing about blogging is that you cannot blog successfully in a vacuum; i.e; the blogger (any blogger) needs readers, viewers, followers, friends of his or her venture. Without that essential ingredient, blogging is probably even less satisfying than masturbation or overeating.

Now we have the case of the so-called “Mommy Blogger”, an upstate New York woman, that may have  instigated a strategy in which she actually poisoned her young son and then reported on his chronic health problems in order to gain followers for her blog which she named “Garnett’s Journey” (named after her son, of course).

Andy Campbell of the Huffington post writes:

Police are investigating whether a mommy blogger who frequently wrote about her son’s “courageous” battle with sickness was actually just poisoning him to get attention. 

Lacey Spears, 26, of upstate New York, hasn’t been charged with a crime. But she’s at the center of a criminal probe after investigators found that her 5-year-old son, Garnett, had suspiciously high levels of sodium in his bloodstream before he died in January, according to CBS News. His death has been ruled a homicide. 

Garnett had been in and out of the hospital his entire life for various illnesses. His mother documented his medical problems in a blog called “Garnett’s Journey.” Police expect their investigation to prove that Spears was feeding him life-threatening amounts of salt and then blogging about his declining health in a case of Munchausen syndrome by proxy, a psychiatric disorder in which a parent sickens a child for sympathy, according to The Journal News.

Munchausen syndrome by proxy notwithstanding, Lacey’s online circle cried with her at news of another hospitalization and rejoiced with her as they saw the sickly boy grow. Her followers offered prayers and support and followed the twosome on Facebook as Lacey moved in 2010 from her hometown Decatur, Ala., to Clearwater, Fla., where she and “G” — as he was known — lived with Lacey’s grandmother for a brief, idyllic time. In 2012, Lacey moved Garnett north, to Chestnut Ridge’s secluded Fellowship Community in upstate New York, saying she hoped the close-to-the-earth living would be the answer to the boy’s chronic health issues.

January 19th was the beginning of the end. That was the day Garnett was airlifted from Nyack Hospital to Westchester Medical Center, where doctors discovered that he had unnaturally high levels of sodium in his system. The doctors made their unnerving and highly unusual discovery even as Lacey shared photos of him on life support on her blog. Poor Garnett hung on for four days befor expiring on Jan. 23rd. While Garnett fought to keep breathing, the Westchester County police, the district attorney’s office and the Ramapo police began investigating the case.

Every strong case needs a “smoking gun” which in this instance may prove to be a feeding bag that Lacey used to feed Garnett through a nutrition tube affixed in his abdomen.

As Garnett lay struggling in the children’s ward of the Westchester Medical Center, Lacey reportedly phoned a friend and asked her to dispose of the feeding bag in question. It’s not clear if, or at what time, the friend turned Lacey in, but the police later seized the bag, which sources say contained a high concentration of sodium.

Like all good defense lawyers, Spears’ lawyer, David Sachs, denies that she tried to get rid of evidence in her son’s death.

“Lacey is completely devastated by the loss of her son and absolutely denies harming her son in any way,” said Sachs, according to the International Business Times.

At least some of those following this case seem to show no hesitation in throwing Lacey under the bus even though the case is still in the investigative phase. Citing The Journal News, Andy Campbell writes:

Spears’ alleged deceit runs deep. The Journal News claims it uncovered a lie in which Spears claimed that she was the mother of a boy, Jonathon Strain, whom she was taking care of for a brief time. She reportedly posted a picture of the boy on her MySpace page, claiming she was his mother — and that’s when the boy’s real mother decided to move him to a new child care provider.

I went and looked [on the page.] And it was a picture of Jonathon,” said Jonathon’s mother, Autumn Hunt. “In a comment under the picture, someone wrote, ‘He’s so cute, is he yours?’ And Lacey replied, ‘Yes, he is. That’s the love of my life. He was born Feb. 14.’”

The nay-sayers also state that it’s unclear whether Garnett actually needed a feeding tube in the first place. Lacey has claimed that he had used it since birth, but people in Spears’ community have stated that they have seen the boy eat without the assistance of a feeding tube.

Maybe I’m naïve but the nature of chronic illnesses is that they alternately spike and then rescind and then spike again until the poor sick person is driven crazy, metaphorically speaking.

The investigation is being handled by the Westchester County District Attorney’s office, as well as local police and the Ramapo Police Department. Lucian Chalfen, a spokesperson for the D.A.’s office has told CBS News that “a shoe will drop” in a month or so.

*     *     *     *     *

I admit that the case against Lacey Spears could well have legs but I prefer to withhold judgment until all the evidence is in. If Lacey proves to be guilty, it will be interesting to see if some sort of “criminally not responsible” defense based on Munchhausen syndrome by proxy is put forward by her defense team.

If Lacey is ultimately convicted of first-degree-murder, she is fortunate in that although New York state has the Death Penalty on its books, it hasn’t actually executed anyone for decades, although presumably, it still could.

I doubt that Lacey would be a viable candidate for New York’s first death by legal injection. After all, she’s a famous blogger and the last thing we bloggers want is for one of us to die an agonizing death after having our veins infiltrated by a lethal combination of drugs. On the other hand, lethal infiltration may be precisely what she did to poor Garnett. But we don’t subscribe to “an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth”, do we? Not here. Not in America.

commentary by Patrick H. Moore

When the Ariel Castro case broke last year in early May, I – right along with the rest of the world – was incensed and horrified. His inhuman treatment of his three victims struck me as so utterly reprehensible that I was completely disgusted. And then his whining, meandering “oh poor pitiful abused me” act at his sentencing hearing did nothing to change my opinion of him.

I was amused in a dark way, however, by his self-inflicted death by hanging, especially if it was a case of auto-erotic asphyxiation gone wrong. No doubt, this does not speak well of me but I am an honest man.

Now at the one year anniversary of his victims’ escape, we have new and genuinely surprising news concerning Castro and his peculiar mindset. This comes to us from Tom Meyer of WKYC-TV3:

Channel 3 News has learned of new and surprising details in the Cleveland kidnapping case that captured the world’s attention.

Craig Weintraub, one of two attorneys representing Ariel Castro, said in an exclusive interview with the Investigator Tom Meyer that Castro deliberately left doors to his house unlocked for months preceding the day Amanda, Gina and Michelle escaped after being held hostage for a decade.

“He intentionally became much more negligent in the house about locking the door and keeping them inside,” Weintraub said.

Attorney Weintraub, apparently assuming that attorney-client privilege is irrelevant when dealing with nationally-known sex criminals and deviant kidnappers, stated Castro told him that things were evolving inside his house of horrors during the year prior to that fateful day when Amanda Berry, Gina DeJesus and Michelle Knight escaped. Castro told Weintraub that he told Amanda Berry that he knew the end was near.

“It wasn’t going well any longer. His daughter was at an age that she should not be in the house anymore. She needed to be in school and be in a normal environment, and she needed friends,” Weintraub said.

Now here’s the surprising and perhaps controversial part that informs the title of this post. Castro explained to Weintraub that he had become attached to his daughter Jecelyn that he had with Amanda Berry. According to Weintraub, Castro claimed that he had abandoned any thoughts of killing the three women because of his relationship with the child.

“He didn’t have the courage to go to the Police Department and surrender, and the only way this was going to happen is if he was negligent and allowed them to leave the house and be able to find a way out while he was gone a few hours.”

Somewhat remarkably, Castro made home videos of the group celebrating Easter and Christmas. The videos, which Weintraub has viewed, are now in the possession of the FBI who apparently has no plans to release them.

“What was startling to me was watching the videos of the Easter celebrations in the house, searching for Easter eggs, hunting for Easter eggs, as well as the Christmas celebration like it was a normal family.”

Nonetheless, Weintraub called Castro a sociopath who lived in a kind of fantasy world with his pretend family.

Castro even told Weintraub that he and the women would joke about the books they’d be able to write once everything ended.

Castro liked to toy with Weintraub. He preferred to talk to him naked inside his jail cell and generally avoided tough questions about evidence.

According to Weintraub, Castro was very aware that he would spend the rest of his life in prison. Weintraub also said that he wasn’t at all surprised when Castro killed himself because Castro had demonstrated suicidal tendencies both in the Cuyahoga County Jail and after he was transferred to the Lorain Correctional facility.

In what could be viewed as an oddly officious stance on the part of the local cemeteries, Weintraub stated that there weren’t any cemeteries that would accept Castro’s remains because they feared vandalism if they did.

People are strange. Weintraub and his co-counsel, Jay Schlachet, who it must be admitted were only doing their jobs, were the subject of death threats during the pendency of the case. Nonetheless, Weintraub said that they have no regrets about taking on the case.

In what is definitely rather alarming, and suggests that Castro was not the only sick one in the peanut gallery, Weintraub said that a number of Castro’s family members have been verbally abused and harassed during the past year. The harassment was such that Castro’s son, Anthony, took the somewhat drastic step of changing his name after his home was ransacked and profanity was scrawled on his front door.

*     *     *     *     *

In her new memoir, Finding Me: A Decade of Darkness, a Life Reclaimed, Michelle Knight relates in harrowing detail the beatings, rapes and torture she endured at the hands of Ariel Castro, and her need to forgive him to move on from the ordeal. It should be kept in mind that the abuse Ms. Knight and Ms. DeJesus suffered was apparently considerably worse than what Amanda Berry endured, and Ms. Knight reportedly had it the worst of all. Thus, for this courageous woman, who has changed her name to Lillian Rose Lee, to inform the world that she forgives her tormentor is a huge step for her.

In her book, Knight talks about growing up a neglected and abused child, living as a homeless teen, becoming a single mother and then her abduction by Castro in 2002.

“If I don’t forgive him, then it’ll be like he imprisoned me twice,” Michelle Knight said on the last page of her book which was released on Tuesday to coincide with the anniversary of their escape.

“Forgiveness is the only way I can truly reclaim my life.”

*     *     *     *     *

Forgiveness. The state of forgiving. Oh holy Knight!

by Amanda Seaton

In October of 1966, the citizens of San Francisco, California were rocked by the news that a mysterious serial killer was on the loose. Taking a page out of Jack the Ripper’s play book, the Zodiac Killer, as he was called, presented himself for the most part as a meticulous killer, but occasionally displayed a modicum of sloppiness that could have helped to identify him if forensic technology had been more advanced 50 years ago.

The night before Halloween,18-year-old Cheri Jo Bates was walking near the parking lot of the Riverside City College library when she was brutally murdered, in an attack that both stunned and stumped investigators because it seemed to lack a motive. Neither rape nor robbery seemed an element of the crime. So why would someone target this young woman, leaving her clothes and her purse undisturbed?

The interesting part about this murder is that the killer disabled her Volkswagen by removing the distributor coil and the condenser, while taking the time to disconnect the middle wire of the distributor. The Zodiac did this on purpose, then waited for the young woman to try to start her car, which of course she could not. He then came forward to ask her if she would like a ride when she was unable to start her engine.

What happened next is where the mystery really kicks into high gear. The following month, in November, the Riverside Police and the Riverside Enterprise received carbon copies of a letter, written anonymously, which was interpreted as a confession, but not a confession necessarily linked to the murder of Cheri Jo Bates murder, but rather alluding to whom the Zodiac’s next victim would be.

At that time, despite the lack of any obvious motive, the Riverside police believed that Bates’ murder was a crime of passion — that she knew her killer.

Two years later the Zodiac would strike again. On December 20, 1968, a young couple, David Arthur Faraday and Betty Lou Jensen, were shot and killed on a remote stretch of Lake Herman Road on the outskirts of Vallejo, California, with what investigators believed was a handgun loaded with .22 LR ammo. The police theorized that the killer started shooting from behind their vehicle, then moved slowly to the side shooting out the right rear window before shooting out the tire, presumably in an attempt to force them out of the vehicle, a strategy that apparently succeeded. He then came around to the front left side of the vehicle. 16-year-old Jensen apparently fled; she was shot dead about 30 feet from the car, while Faraday was killed instantly as he tried  to exit the vehicle with a single shot to the head.

Six months later on July 5, 1969, 22-year-old Darlene Elizabeth Ferrin and 19-year-old Michael Renault Mageau were shot while sitting in Ferrin’s car located in the parking lot of the Blue Rock Springs Golf course, also in Vallejo. Mageau managed to survive the shooting, but Ferrin was killed. Mageau told investigators that he believed the killer was a police officer who had shot him as he reached for his ID. He told the investigators that the killer was short, standing about five foot eight inches tall, and heavyset. Several weeks later the Zodiac again surprised investigators by sending a letter and cryptogram to the San Francisco Examiner, the San Francisco Chronicle and the Vallejo Times-Herald confessing that he had committed the Vallejo murders. The Zodiac’s communication included the demand that his handiwork be printed in each of the newspapers by August 1, 1969.

Then on August 10, 1969, a key to the cryptogram was delivered to the Vallejo Police Department. It was handwritten and was signed, Concerned Citizen.

Next came the Cecelia Ann Shepard and Bryan Calvin Hartnell murders on the shoreline of Lake Berryessa near Napa, California. Hartnell was stabbed six times, while Shepard was stabbed around ten times and died two days later. Moving on to October of 1969, the Zodiac took out a cab driver named Paul Stine on the northeast corner of Washington and Cherry Streets in the Presidio Height section of San Francisco. The killer then walked to a payphone in order to call the murder in.

As time went on and the panic mounted, the Zodiac continued to send in letters and more cryptographs, claiming to have murdered seven people by the end of October 1969.

Melvin Belli, the well-known personal injury lawyer, received a Christmas card from the Zodiac at his home which talked about how he was losing control as he progressed toward a possible tenth victim. This missive also talked about bombing school children, which thankfully never happened.

As the murders continued, so did the intensive man hunt for the man called Zodiac. A composite sketch was released based upon numerous descriptions from the victims who had managed to survive. Valentine’s Day, 1974, marked the date of the Zodiac’s last correspondence which was sent to the Chronicle. After that, the communications ceased as did the murders though it was a long time before the good citizens of Northern California drew a deep breath.

As the investigators continued to work overtime and the evidence continued to pile up, the lack of adequate forensic technology continued to be a huge stumbling block. Somewhat remarkably, 2,500 people were interrogated, but no one was officially charged, or even viewed as a suspect until they came across Arthur Leigh Allen. Allen, a child molester, died at age 58 in 1992.  During the investigation he was fingerprinted, subjected to a grueling polygraph, searched, interrogated, and induced to give hand-writing samples. Even a year before his death, police were still investigating him, although he protested his innocence. It wasn’t that far-fetched that he might be the guy, given all the facts and apparent coincidences, so upon his death, investigators retrieved brain tissues for DNA testing. The DNA technology at the time, however, was not that advanced and failed to prove anything.

Will the real identity of the Zodiac killer ever be determined? As advancements in technology become increasingly available to local, state, and federal law enforcement, the likelihood of finding the madman responsible for the murders would seem to increase. Certainly, there have been no killings, letters, or mysterious Zodiac-like behavior since the death of Arthur Leigh Allen. On the other hand, the Zodiac killer’s last public communication was in 1974 and the murders ceased several years before that. Did Arthur Leigh Allen simply get tired of killing? Do certain serial killers reach a point of satiation, mellow out, if you will, and no longer feel the need to kill? It’s well-known that the criminal conduct of most common criminals occurs while they are still relatively young. Perhaps Arthur Leigh Allen followed a similar trajectory and simply lost the desire to ritualistically execute his victims.

Click here to view previous posts by Amanda Seaton:

Jeffrey Dahmer, Serial Killer, Always Liked Dead Things

Amanda Seaton is a freelance writer/editor and graduate student. Ms. Seaton earned a Bachelors of Science degree in Criminal Justice and Homeland Security in April of 2013, and began a Masters of Science program in Forensics in June of 2013 where she is acing every class.

by Starks Shrink

There is an ongoing trial in Florida, in which a woman is facing first-degree-murder charges for killing her two teenage children. At first blush, this seems a heinous crime. What kind of a mother could kill her own children in cold blood? However, it’s more complicated than that. What if the mother was ill? Really sick? Julie Schenecker is that mother and she fatally shot her 13-year-old son and 16-year-old daughter on January 27th of 2011. She is mounting an insanity defense.

Julie has a long history of mental illness and had been diagnosed with Bipolar I with psychotic features. The medications she was taking were a cocktail of prescriptions used to treat serious mental illness, which she apparently took erratically at best in the months prior to the killings. Julie had even been hospitalized for her illness for nine months at one point. Nine months is a long time to be hospitalized and away from one’s family, so a commitment of that magnitude potentially indicates refractory bipolar disorder. An Illness of this degree of seriousness is a huge strain on families and Julie’s return to her family probably changed its family dynamic considerably. Her bipolar disorder was also marked by long periods of major depression manifested by days and weeks in which she couldn’t get out of bed.

Based upon correspondence between Julie and her family, and her husband Parker’s emails to her psychiatrist, Julie’s real difficulties began in September of 2010, just months before she killed her children. She had been taking Abilify for her bipolar disorder, an off-label usage with dubious results concerning its efficacy for treatment of bipolar disorder. Her husband indicated that she was having severe tardive dyskinesia from the psychotropic medications and described her as suffering from constant involuntary movements of her mouth and tongue. Consider, for a moment, what it is like to live with this side effect, when you are already experiencing severe depression.  Julie indicated that she had been prescribed Cogentin (which usually suppresses tardive dyskinesia) and that it had been effective for a short time. After this, Julie was unravelling and her doctor tried to stem the course of her deterioration by changing her medications.  Forensic technicians found prescriptions for clonazapam, Lithium, buspirone, venlafaxine and trazolan amongst others in her home. I can’t comment on the choice of drugs, as I am not privy to her medication schedule or history. However, it’s clear that her psychiatrist was desperately seeking to find a combination of medications that would stabilize Julie Schenecker.  As few as 6 days before the murders, Julie filled new prescriptions for anxiety and antidepressants that the scrips indicated would ramp her up to a therapeutic level. Sadly, she never attained that level.

Like many people suffering from psychiatric disorders, Julie turned to alcohol as a means of self-medicating. Her prescriptions weren’t assuaging her pain and, in fact, the added side effects were debilitating. When she had an automobile accident in November of 2010, her husband stepped in and sent her to an addiction rehabilitation facility. While it is doubtful that alcohol was Julie’s  main problem, it was a symptom of a deteriorating mental state. Julie apparently agreed, since she wrote in her journal that she didn’t belong in a rehab environment but in a psychiatric facility.  She returned to the family home early in December and then the real trouble began. Her children and her husband had had enough of her illness and weren’t shy about showing their displeasure to Julie or their extended family.

One feature of bipolar-related psychosis can be persecutory delusions. Julie displayed signs of this in her journal writings. A child says something unkind and the delusion heightens a simple adolescent comment to malice and hatred. Julie was a stay-at-home mother and wife, so when her husband and her children chastised her about her illness, she internalized those comments into feelings of complete failure and alienation from those closest to her. This was the onus of her ultimate deed. She felt shamed by her family and her self esteem deteriorated to the point that she saw no option other than death.  Her family knew she was suicidal, but because she had expressed these thoughts so often, they discounted them. Julie even mentioned, in her police interview, that her psychiatrist had told her that she’d better “make it on the first try” in regard to suicide. I highly doubt that her doctor spoke to her in such a manner but I do think that Julie believed he had, which is another sign that she was very likely delusional.

In the week prior to the killings, Julie’s husband Parker was deployed overseas for a short temporary term of duty. However, before he departed, there was a flurry of emails between Parker and Julie’s parents and siblings in which Parker detailed his frustrations with Julie and with her illness. Julie apparently asked all of her family members for a copy of the email, but they refused and her brother actually sent his own lengthy email to Julie in which he added to her distress. I believe that Julie was trying to grapple with her illness; she filled prescriptions the day before she bought the gun that she used to fatally shoot her children. Her journal is full of her deluded ramblings, pages of how alone she felt interspersed with nonsensical scribblings that even she couldn’t understand. She did write that she had planned to take the lives of her children and her own life, but is this evidence of premeditation or simply further evidence of her dangerously deteriorated mental state?

*     *     *     *     *

Those are the facts of the case. Now, I will proffer my opinions. What is painfully clear to me is that Julie’s own family really has very little understanding of what it means to have bipolar disorder and the public at large has even less. It has become almost a ‘popular’ affliction and people toss the word around as though it were simply mood swings, even self-identifying as “being bipolar”. People aren’t bipolar, they have bipolar disorder which can be every bit as serious as schizophrenia, though you don’t hear people claiming with pride that they have schizophrenia. Bipolar disorder, can present with psychosis (a complete break from reality). It can have features of cognitive impairment, delusions and paranoia accompanied by profound depression. It is debilitating, it is chronic and can be difficult to manage from a medical standpoint due to the cyclical nature of the illness. So when her family berates Julie for not trying hard enough, it displays a lack of comprehension, not a lack of compassion. I can’t blame Julie’s family. Bipolar disorder is the cause of many failed relationships; it’s exhausting and exasperating for the client and the family members. Anyone who has a family member with a mental illness needs to become educated about the illness along with the person who is diagnosed in order to stand the best chance of survival. However, I can and do blame the media for deciding that bipolar disorder is not a real mental illness and thus should not be a defense for Julie’s actions. They need to take the time to educate themselves on the disorder before standing on a soapbox to proclaim Julie is evil, rather than seeing her for the seriously ill woman that she is.

I also blame the judicial system. We have a system that has “Stand Your Ground” laws, in which a judge can decide whether or not a person was in fear for his life when he took the life of another, presumably because they want to spare the person the rigors of a trial, and because a judge is, in theory, most capable of determining the proper application of the law. However, in the case of the mentally ill, we force the accused to stand trial and prove to a jury that they are legally not responsible. How is a jury to determine the mental health of another person? How can we as a society expect 12 people to sit in a courtroom and decide whether someone has been properly diagnosed? I expect that this trial will pit psychiatric professionals against one another in a battle over Julie’s diagnosis and competency. Julie’s own husband, who lived with her for 20 years, couldn’t comprehend her illness but we will ask a room full of strangers to understand and decide her fate in a matter of days, based upon only what they hear in that courtroom. That is not justice; rather, it is a travesty of justice.

Please click here to view The Starks Shrink’s Previous Posts:

Luka Magnotta: Man, Boy or Beast?

The Disturbing Truth about Mothers Who Murder Their Children

Teleka Patrick Needed a Psychiatrist, Not a Pastor!

Rehabbing the Wounded Juvenile Will Save Their Souls (and Ours)

Skylar Neese and the Mean Girls Who Killed Her

by Lise LaSalle

Chelsea Mae Chafee was born on June 9^th, 1986 in Missoula County, Montana. She gave birth to a daughter she named Hayleigh, on July 21, 2005. After going through many life struggles, Chelsea was finally on solid ground and had met a great guy called Matt who became her fiancée more than four years ago. They formed a tight and loving unit and things were looking up for the girl known for her huge heart and sensitivity, but also for displaying some residual behavioral patterns stemming from physical, emotional and sexual abuse.

But Chelsea’s new life began to unravel when in October, 2011 she was arrested, charged with a crime and sent to jail.

Statement of the case

• On October 7, 2011, Chelsea Mae and an acquaintance named Antonio David Robinson were driving in the area of Pattee Creek Canyon near Missoula, Montana. Chelsea was at the wheel when Robinson noticed a vehicle on the side of the road and asked her to stop, as it looked like one of his old vehicles. When she stopped, Robinson broke into the vehicle, removed a tent, a pair of boots and a metal box, lit the car on fire and instructed Chafee to drive away.
• Law enforcement intercepted Chafee and Robinson shortly after the burning vehicle was discovered. They were both arrested and charged with Theft and Arson. Robinson pled guilty and Chafee proceeded to trial.

• Robinson claimed that the crimes were his idea, that they were not pre-planned and that Chelsea had no involvement. This was consistent with what Chelsea reported to law enforcement at the time of her arrest. She had made no effort to intervene or to escape the crime scene.
• Chelsea told police that her intention was to drop off Robinson and get back to her boyfriend so she could report the incident with him.
• The State presented testimony from a former co-worker of Chafee, Jeffrey Russell, who testified that Chelsea had told him she lit the car on fire using lighter fluid and a match because she and Robinson were drunk and ‘needed something to do.’
• During closing arguments, the State argued that between Russell and Robinson, Russell was the witness that took his oath to tell the truth seriously and that he was more candid with the jury.
• The State further argued that once Chafee was present at the scene of the crime, she had an affirmative duty to try to get away and contact law enforcement.
• In his final comments, the prosecuting attorney instructed the jury to look to their hearts, souls and the essence of what they knew was right to arrive at the right verdict.
• At the conclusion of a two day trial, the jury found Chafee guilty of Accountability for Theft and Accountability for Arson.

Accountability for Theft and Arson

Under federal law, arson is damaging or destroying by fire or explosive any building, vehicle, or other personal or real property.

Each state defines the crime of theft differently, but generally this crime involves the unlawful entry into a structure or building for the purpose of committing a crime in it, such as theft or arson. In some states, burglary applies only to houses or dwellings, while in other states it applies to any building or structure, including office buildings, tool sheds, and cars.

In most states, juries are instructed that merely being present at the scene of a crime, even with guilty knowledge that a crime is being committed, is not enough to convict a person of a crime.

But there are principles of criminal liability that apply to people other than the person who actually committed a crime. For example, under federal law, there is a crime called “misprision” of a felony, which applies to a person who has actual knowledge of the commission of a felony and doesn’t report it to the authorities.

Also, under federal and most state laws, a person can be held criminally liable as an “accessory after the fact” if she has knowledge that a crime was committed and assists the offender to hinder his apprehension, trial or punishment. You can also be guilty of aiding and abetting a crime if you help another person in committing the crime, with knowledge of the criminal nature of the act they’re committing.

Aiding and abetting applies to someone who assists or helps one or more other people commit a crime. To be held accountable as an aider and abettor, you must know of the criminal objective and do something to make it succeed. For example, if you drive your friend to a meeting where you know your friend is going to buy drugs, you may be an aider and abettor in the drug transaction.

Knowledge is key here.

It is clear that Chelsea had no knowledge of what was going to happen and Robinson obviously acted on the spur of the moment. And he said so in his first interrogation with police and it concurred with what Chelsea had declared.

The only logical explanation is that she was shocked and her reaction was to freeze and to obey his command to drive away.

Guilt by Association

To be guilty by association refers to the attribution of guilt without any proof on individuals solely for the reason that those whom they associated with were guilty.

In this case, it goes further because Chelsea was not merely standing by but driving the car so she was convicted of Accountability to Theft and Arson.

Laws vary by state but in common criminal law, being an accomplice, conspiracy, solicitation, and guilt by association are all different crimes. The first three are called inchoate crimes under the common law.

Under legal systems where guilt by association is allowed, Chelsea could be charged merely for being in the same place with those who were guilty and not taking affirmative action to stop them.

However, in the US, guilt by association is not allowed under the constitution. To be guilty without direct action, a person must either solicit, conspire with, or aid/assist someone else toward a criminal action. So Chelsea could not be guilty merely by being in the presence of others who committed a crime.

Because under the US Constitution, freedom of association is a fundamental right and mere association, without an assistance or agreement to commit a criminal action, is not a crime. Nor (with a few narrow exceptions) does a private citizen have the duty to affirmatively act to stop a crime they witness. So, because Chelsea did nothing to assist or plan the crimes, she is not guilty of anything — guilt by association is not permitted and does not apply.

But because Laws vary by state, the lines can often be fuzzy. Did the jury interpret her driving the vehicle as aiding in the commission of a crime?

Deer in headlights syndrome

We all experience moments when we feel out of our depth. Mostly it happens when something occurs that goes against our preconceptions of what could possibly happen. Some people take a moment to blink and then shoot into action, while others sort of freeze in place unable to decide what to do. This last course of action, or rather inaction, is often referred to as the deer in the headlights syndrome.

Unfortunately, these moments can happen after years of being confronted with scenarios where one does not know what to do or think of a way to cope with it. What usually happens is that a person confronted with such a situation will usually copy someone else’s behavior or obey an order. They might feel stupid afterwards for not having the right reaction during the occurrence but it gives them a semblance of an idea of what to do.

When Chelsea encountered this shocking event, she froze and went along with what Robinson told her to do. She did not have time to react and her emotional makeup did not allow her to react by fleeing or to quickly form a plan of action.

I will go further and say that what law enforcement is asking private citizens to do in such cases, borders on vigilantism. What about if the culprit turns on you and it endangers your life? She did not have time to reflect on the matter. She had reported Russel’s crime at work but it was not a spontaneous action. Had she tried to intervene in this matter, she would not have been protected in any way. If Robinson acted recklessly once, he could have done it again. So her mission was to get rid of him and reach her boyfriend to discuss a course of action.

Pre-trial

•  After her arrest in July, 2011, Chelsea was released from jail on bond and spent two years being monitored and wearing an ankle bracelet. She never missed a court appearance or tried to flee.
•  She was employed as head housekeeper at a local motel and had her own residence. Her fiancé, who is a good man with no criminal record, stood by her every step of the way. Her mother has also been advocating for her daughter from day one.
•  Her employer has written a letter describing her as a model employee and a reliable human being. She is also from all accounts, an excellent mother.

The trial

Statement of Facts

• On the day of the incident, on October 7, 2011, Chafee had taken Robinson for a drive in her green Nissan Pathfinder with the intention of dropping him off afterwards at the Poverello Help Center. She and Matt were trying to help Robinson get back on his feet. He was living in a halfway house and was quite down on his luck. When he asked her to pull over, he got out of Chafee’s vehicle and attempted to gain entry to a vehicle by the roadside that he recognized. It was locked, so he smashed the window with a rock, retrieved the belongings that had been let in the car, and put them in Chafee’s car. He then lit the car on fire and told her to drive away.
• He denies having planned the crime before he saw the car on the side of the road; the car had been left there two days previously by the owners, Luke and Amanda Kasun, after their two dogs had failed to come back from an exercise run. They were hoping they would return to the familiar vehicle. So Robinson had no way of knowing the car would be parked at this location.
• When they were intercepted a short time later and interviewed by police separately, they both gave the same account: Chelsea did not participate in any way except for the driving. In fact, she never got out of her vehicle. She intended to call police after dropping off Robinson but with her boyfriend, maybe because Missoula cops had a really bad reputation for their handling of cases involving vulnerable women. Over eighty alleged rapes were reported in Missoula during these years and it took nearly one hundred complaints to convince the Justice Department to look into the conduct of the Missoula County Attorney’s Office and the Police Department.
• The prosecution found themselves a witness to testify that Chelsea had knowledge and participated in the incident. Her former co-worker Jeffrey Russell testified that he once inquired about the night of the fire and that Chafee told him that she and Robinson were drinking and broke into the car. He said that she told him she had doused the inside of the car with lighter fluid and that ‘’It was just something to do.’’
• The problem is that Deputy Schmill testified that he investigated the crime scene, looked for accelerants, and found none in either car. He had photographed the burning vehicle and the tire tracks and there were only footsteps from one person on the ground.
• They tested Chelsea and she was totally sober but Robinson was inebriated.
• During cross-examination by the defense, Russell conceded that Chafee had reported him to their former employer, Garden City Janitorial for stealing from a client, taking money from petty cash, and accessing a computer without authorization. Russell was fired as a result of his conduct.

• A conversation also came up that Russell had on Yahoo with a friend called Christy Clark where he calls Chelsea a ‘fucking bitch’ and her fiancé a ‘piece of shit’, and adds that this is his reason for testifying against her. He also states that he wanted to go beat Matt up at his house and could use the $100 witness fee. He obviously had an ax to grind.
• Matt and Chelsea obtained a temporary Order of Protection against Jeffrey Russell signed by a judge.
•  So much for the witness whose honesty Donovan was vouching for in front of the jury.
• Subsequently, the Stated elicited testimony from Russell to the effect that Chafee was also involved in the scheme to steal from their former employer. But there is absolutely no evidence that she was investigated and the State did not disclose its intention to use evidence of other acts prior to trial.
• The State also alleged that Chelsea had stolen email/texts containing the incriminating conversations between Christy and Russell.
• In his continued attempts at attacking Chafee and Robinson’s credibility, prosecutor M. Shaun Donovan described Robinson as having a lengthy criminal record and history of ‘ofdoing’  and ‘’all this other sort of stuff.’’  There was no actual evidence that Robinson had a lengthy criminal history.
• The State’s presentation of evidence and its closing argument focused extensively on whether Chafee could have contacted law enforcement and whether she attempted to leave the scene.
• Prior to trial, the State offered jury instructions but the Defense counsel did not offer a single jury instruction. Neither party offered a jury instruction stating that mere presence at the crime scene is not sufficient for accountability and does not create a duty to intervene.
• Prosecutor Donovan improperly vouched for Russell’s credibility.
• At the conclusion of the State’s closing argument, Donovan argued that the jury needed to look “into the essence of what you know is right.”
• The Defense counsel objected and the Court overruled, stating “This is argument.” The State went on to argue that the jury should “use those attributes about yourself that the defense doesn’t want you to consider, like common sense, like what you believe is most true.’’
• Donovan overstepped the proper boundaries of zealous advocacy on several occasions during the trial in his statements about the credibility of some witnesses and his insertion of doubtful evidence in order to leave the jury in a position to find the defendant guilty.

In March 2013, Chelsea was found guilty. She went in front of the Judge and he sentenced her to 10 years with 8 years suspended for accountability to arson and to 10 years with 8 years suspended for accountability to theft. He rules that both sentences should run concurrently.

And he declared: “The reasons for the sentence that is imposed are that the court sees no reason to punish the defendant with more prison time as she has made progress and this will be a step down sentence that can get her back to a productive and law abiding life “.

Appeal

Chelsea has appealed to the Supreme Court on the basis that the Court erred when it overruled Defense counsel’s objection to the State’s improper closing argument, which instructed the jury they could find the proper verdict in their hearts and souls.

The cumulative effect of ineffective assistance of counsel and prosecutorial misconduct resulted in a violation of Chafee’s Constitutional rights and an unfair trial.

Chelsea’s good behavior

It would be logical for someone like Chelsea to be released to reunite her with her daughter and support system. It costs the State more money to keep her incarcerated when she could be a productive member of society and even pay restitution.

• She has participated in several programs and completed them successfully, even if she was not required to do so: WRAP, Relapse Prevention, TAMAR, Anger Management.
• She participated in the “Prison Paws for Humanity” dog training program and has trained 5 dogs so far.
• She worked for the Montana Women’s Prison Industries doing Custom Embroidery & Garment Printing.
• She has been offered and accepted a full time dog groomer job.
• She participates in the parenting program and she has 4 monthly visits with her daughter Hayleigh.
• She has 14 month of clear conduct and good behavior and a good work history and work evaluations.
• She basically has a great attitude towards law and authority and when she appeared in front of committees, they sent her to the Billings Pre-Release Center. She was there for about 3 weeks. On December 13, 2013 they picked her up and gave no reason why they were taking her back to the Montana Women’s prison in spite of exemplary behavior and conduct. They later mentioned the possibility of a felony they had to investigate but that remains a mystery. When the court commits you to the Department of Corrections, you can only hope for the best.

Chelsea plans to go to College upon her release and obtain a degree. She has 2 job offers and also has a place to live when she is paroled. She has had the full support of family members and friends while incarcerated which she will continue to have upon her release. Chelsea is trying to regain custody of her 8 year old daughter whose custody is now shared between her grandmother and her biological dad. In fact, she has done more to prove herself as a good citizen and a mother than most people will ever do on the outside.

When you look closely at this flimsy case and realize that a productive mother is stuck in jail because she was too shell-shocked to react during the commission of someone else’s crime, you wonder where you can get justice nowadays.

Certainly not in that Montana courtroom where an overzealous prosecutor was so preoccupied with winning his case and pleasing the public because the case was in the media, that he vouched for the testimony of a vindictive and dishonest witness in order to get a guilty verdict against an innocent girl. Chelsea simply acted like a deer in the headlights after having associated with the wrong person she was trying to help.

This type of guilt by association is common, and party-to-the-crime statutes are incredibly far-reaching. Reversing these weak convictions should be easy but that is not always the case.

It makes us wonder why some juries and judges are so eager to convict and incarcerate people even if the crime was committed by someone else.

If you want to know more about Chelsea, you can visit her Facebook page:

https://www.facebook.com/pages/Free-Chelsea-Chafee/659842550728513

I am happy to report that with the help of the public, the Kasuns’ dogs were found after roaming for six days in the mountains.

Two outstandingly ridiculous cases of guilt by association

• A defendant called Miller was accused of participating in the rape of a minor because he saw his roommate on the dance floor with the victim earlier in the evening and did not do anything to prevent the upcoming rape. His conviction was reversed.

• A defendant called Omot was charged with drug crimes because his roommate had marijuana in his dresser drawer. The drawer did not even belong to him. The third roommate testified that she never saw him use or sell marijuana.

• He was charged and sent to jail because the police found a picture of him in the house where he held a firearm. According to prosecutor, it showed he ‘’was ready and willing to act as an enforcer.’’ His conviction was reversed.

•  Now there is a movement suggesting the parents of offenders should be prosecuted. Where does it end?

commentary by Patrick H. Moore

We’ve long known that O.J. Simpson lacks the essential quality one needs to stay on the right side of the law — self-control. At the same time, it’s hard to deny that the aging alleged murderer has cojones . This was clearly demonstrated when he recently represented himself in a Nevada Court of Appeals at which he protested his 2008 33-year-sentence for kidnapping and armed robbery, and actually managed to get several of his counts of conviction reversed. Although he will remain incarcerated for at least another 4-years, I will bet you that the day will come when the Juice is once again a free man, that is, if he doesn’t eat himself to death.

In that vein, Fox Sports reports:

The 66-year-old Simpson was reportedly caught by guards recently at Nevada’s Love­lock Correctional Center trying to steal more than a dozen oatmeal cookies, a violation of prison rules. According to the Daily Mail, “Guards noticed the 66-year-old hiding something under his prison clothes as he walked back to his cell after lunch.”

Simpson was reportedly let off with only a warning, but suffered humiliation at the hands of fellow inmates.

Fox Sports then quotes the National Enquirer:

Doctors had previously warned O.J., a severe diabetic, to clean up his diet and start exercising more — or he could be dead within months.

“But the temptation of the cookies in the prison chow line was too much for him,”said the source. “O.J. has been trying to diet since the doctors talked to him, but he loves sweets, and after a few weeks he couldn’t take it anymore.”

The Enquirer went on to say:

“Everyone thought he had smuggled in a cell phone or some other kind of contraband, so when the guard started pulling cookies out of O.J.’s shirt, the other in­mates started laughing so hard they nearly fell over,” said the source. “O.J. just stood there with a goofy grin on his face as the guard kept digging in­side his shirt and throwing the cookies on the floor.”

Simpson reportedly weighs in the neighborhood of 300 pounds and has high blood pressure.

*     *     *     *     *

It’s easy to forget — given the 2008 armed robbery conviction and the fact that most people believe Simpson murdered Nicole Simpson Brown and Ron Goldman — that the Juice was not only a Hall of Fame football player but also enjoyed a very successful acting career before he derailed himself by not being able to control his dark passions. I know that I should probably despise him like so many of us do for the evil things he’s allegedly done but I just can’t bring myself to. I remember his cheery screen presence in “The Naked Gun” as if it were yesterday.

I guess the fact of the matter is that I sometimes have a character flaw when it comes to murderers. I realize I should castigate them but oftentimes I do not. On the other hand, I think it is fair to say that a great many crime fans take great pleasure in hating certain killers. For example, I would wager that the vast majority of the Karla Homolka “haters”, and they are legion, thoroughly enjoy despising the enigmatic murderess.

Note: There are more recent reports that Simpson may be suffering from a brain tumor. Whatever bad stuff he has done in his life, I wouldn’t wish this on anyone.

Click here to view our previous post on O.J. Simpson

O.J. Simpson Demands a New Trial: He May Be Old and Grey but the “Juice” Still Has Swag

by Amanda Seaton

Canny suspected Los Angeles serial killer, The Grim Sleeper, earned his sobriquet by “going out of business” for 14 years. That is, he took an extended vacation from murder from 1988 until 2002. His is a shocking and riveting tale and the good news is the police believe they finally have the right man in custody. The suspect, 57-year-old Lonnie David Franklin, Jr. is a former Los Angeles sanitation worker who may have worked for LAPD for a period of time.

Los Angeles, like many large metropolitan areas, has certainly had its share of serial killers over the past several decades including the Hillside Strangler team, Angelo Buono and Kenneth Bianchi, who tortured and murdered 14 girls during a four month period beginning in 1978; the Freeway Killer, William Bonin, who raped, tortured and murdered no fewer than 21 boys and young men in a series of killings in 1979 and 1980; and of course, the notorious Night Stalker, Richard Ramirez, who mutilated and murdered anywhere from 13 to 16 victims between 1984 and 1985.

These three (in)humans all shared the characteristic of killing and brutalizing their victims in a very short period of time. The Grim Sleeper, however, appears to have been in no rush.

In the 1980s, following the deaths of several women in South Central Los Angeles, community members formed the Black Coalition Fighting Back Serial Murders. Appalled by the number of unexplained murders occurring in this large working-class section of Los Angeles, the group pressured police into setting up a task force and demanded that they acknowledge the deaths as serial killings. The Coalition launched a media campaign and set a monetary award aiming to capture the killer. The Los Angeles County Sheriff’s Department-LAPD investigation initially decided that the murders were committed by a single person they labelled the “Southside Slayer”. This claim, which was quickly debunked, was announced to the public in September of 1985.

Investigators soon uncovered evidence suggesting that several serial killers were murdering women in South Central Los Angeles. Louis Craine committed at least two of the “Southside Slayer” murders, and three men, Michael Hughes, Daniel Lee Siebert and Ivan Hill were connected to at least one murder each. Then the detectives isolated a separate series of killings that began with the murder of Debra Jackson. This slayer preferred a different modus operandi involving a firearm. These murders were dubbed, misleadingly, the “Strawberry murders”. Oddly enough, a Sheriff’s Detective, Ricky Ross, was suspected at one point and was wrongfully arrested due to a ballistics error. It would not be until two decades later that the suspect wanted for the murders would be dubbed the Grim Sleeper, due to his long period of inactivity between the murders.

In May of 2007, a beautiful 25-year-old victim named Janecia Peters was found nude in a dumpster by a passerby. She would ultimately prove to be the first of the Grim Sleeper’s victims to be identified and the last to be murdered. Ms. Peters was eventually linked to 11 other victims through the process of familial DNA analysis. The first of The Sleeper’s murders occurred in 1985, while the last one was confirmed in 2007. It seems that Los Angeles law enforcement kept a tight lid on the existence of the Sleeper, which gave a striking blonde investigative reporter named Christine Pelisek the opportunity to delve deeply into the case. In fact, she is credited by some with leading investigators to the door step of the Sleeper, who turned out to be the 57-year-Franklin.

Christine Pelisek, who claims she and her editor deserve the credit for coming up with Franklin’s nickname, wrote in The Daily Beast on July 10, 2010, three days after The Sleeper was arrested:

In a 2008 front page story for the LA Weekly, where I work as a reporter, I wrote about the existence of the secret task force investigating a number of killings that went as far back as 1985, beginning with the murder of cocktail waitress Debra Jackson…

My editor and I came up with the name “Grim Sleeper” in a nod to his mysterious and long break from killing…

A few days after my story was published, the LAPD held its first press conference to acknowledge that a serial killer was afoot, finally asking for the public’s help in apprehending him. Bernard Parks, a City Councilman, helped get the approval for a $500,000 reward for information leading to the arrest and conviction of the Grim Sleeper. Parks, a former LAPD chief, was furious that police officials had never bothered to inform him that a serial killer was on the loose in his own district.

Police had apparently struggled for a considerable period of time to find an exact match between DNA found at the crime scenes associated with the Grim Sleeper and any of the profiles in California’s DNA profile database.

They eventually located DNA similar to that of the victims belonging to Franklin’s son, Christopher, who had been convicted of a felony weapons charge. Los Angeles District Attorney, Steve Cooley, explains that detectives then used a piece of discarded pizza with Lonnie Franklin’s DNA, which may or may not have been collected by reporter Christine Pelisek, to make the link. According to one story, a LAPD undercover police officer pretended to be a waiter at a restaurant where the suspect ate. The officer collected dishes, silverware, glasses, and pizza crusts, all of which were used to obtain a conclusive DNA match, which was used to arrest Franklin after his DNA was obtained. Saliva found on his victims’ breasts was used to obtain the necessary match to link Franklin to the murders

It turns out that Los Angeles police missed an opportunity to apprehend Franklin in 2003 when he was arrested for a felony, but they failed to obtain his DNA.

Franklin’s victims varied in age, but were all black and many were prostitutes:

• Debra Jackson, 29, was Grim’s first victim. Her body was found on August 10, 1985.

• Henrietta Wright, 34, was found on August 12, 1986.

• Thomas Steele, who oddly enough was a 36-year-old male. was found on August 15, 1986.

• Next came Barbara Ware, a 23-year-old female found on January 10, 1987.

• Bernita Sparks, 26, was found on April 15, 1987.

• Mary Lowe, 26, was The Sleeper’s next victim. She was found on November 1, 1987.

• Lachrica Jefferson, a 22-year-old female, was found on January 30, 1988.

• Jefferson was followed by Alice Monique Alexander, an 18-year-old female whose body was found on September 11, 1988.

• The Sleeper’s next victim, 30-year-old Enietra Margette Washington, was fortunate and managed to survive.

• Princess Berthomieux is said to be Franklin’s youngest victim. She was 15-years-old when she was found on March 19, 2002. Thus, Princess has the honor of being The Sleeper’s first victim after his long hiatus.

• Valeria McCorvey, 35, was found on July 11, 2003.

• This left only Janecia Peters, whose body was found on January 1, 2007, after another long break.

Thus, we see that The Sleeper’s main killing spree occurred within a window stretching from the summer of 1985 to September of 1988.

Now although The Sleeper has only been definitively linked to these murders, investigators found scores of photographs at Frankin’s home and have asked the public to help identify the 180 women found in the pictures, which depict women who appear to be deceased. To date,  investigators have not been able to link any more bodies to The Sleeper.

In December of 2010, LAPD Police Chief Charlie Beck stated:

“These people are not suspects, we don’t even know if they are victims, but we do know this. Lonnie Franklin’s reign of terror in the city of Los Angeles, which spanned well over two decades, culminating with almost a dozen murder victims, certainly needs to be investigated further.”

Investigators have reportedly found about 1,000 photographs and hundreds of hours of video at Franklin’s house, which reveal a wide range of potential African-American victims ranging from teenagers to middle-aged women.

The Grim Sleeper is currently being held in the Los Angeles County Jail, without bond, awaiting the start of his trial, which will presumably begin sometime after a pre-trial hearing that is scheduled for June of this year. The case seems to be moving at a snail’s pace, leaving the distraught families of the victims enraged with the Los Angeles court system. Many of these folks have been waiting since Franklin’s arrest in 2010 for an actual solid trial date so that they can begin to put this horrific tale behind them and try to pick up the pieces of what is left of their lives.

On the other hand, Prosecutor Steve Cooley’s office may be biding its time in the hope that more victims will be identified before the trial begins. As is so often the case, however, The Sleeper may well never be prosecuted for all of the murders he may have committed.

Click here to view previous posts by Amanda Seaton:

Zodiac, Zodiac, Who Is the Zodiac (Killer)? We May Never Know

Jeffrey Dahmer, Serial Killer, Always Liked Dead Things

Amanda Seaton is a freelance writer/editor and graduate student. Ms. Seaton earned a Bachelors of Science degree in Criminal Justice and Homeland Security in April of 2013, and began a Masters of Science program in Forensics in June of 2013 where she is acing every class.

by Lise LaSalle

What’s in a name? Well a lot as you will discover.

In April 2013, in a Los Angeles Superior Court, Christian ‘Karl’ Gerhartsreiter was convicted of the 1^st-degree-murder of his landlord’s son dating back to 1985. The jury of six men and six women decided that the circumstantial evidence proved beyond a reasonable doubt that this man who had passed himself as a successful film producer, a Baronet and a member of the Rockefeller family, among other fabrications, had killed John Sohus, 27, and buried his body in the backyard of the Sohus’ family home.

He was now able to add the title of convicted murderer to the long series of titles and names he had used, or should I say borrowed, throughout the years.

Young Christian

We could say it all started in 1978, when a young couple from California travelling in a remote part of Germany decided to pick up a 17-year-old hitchhiker by the name of Christian Gerhartsreiter. After socializing with him and spending the night at his parents’ house, they realized that this young German had a real fascination with the United States. He was well- versed in American music, movies and culture and his dream was to move to the US. They became his ticket to ride and with their help, he landed in, of all places, Berlin, Connecticut where he attended high school prior to moving on to the University of Wisconsin in Milwaukee.

Christian managed to get a green card by marrying a young lady with nothing to gain but a new last name while he would gain the privilege of staying in the country. It was a sign of things to come.

After completing his studies, he moved to Los Angeles where his plans included becoming a movie producer. After staying in South Pasadena, he ended up in San Marino, a wealthy enclave where he hoped to meet influential people. He wormed his way into the guest house of an older lady named Ruth ‘Didi’ Sohus who had a weakness for the bottle, a rather pathetic life and a total lack of interest in gardening. He could come and go as he pleased without his new acquaintances finding out he was living in the back house instead of the main residence. It was the perfect front.

Linda and John Sohus

Christian was two years into this rental arrangement when Didi’s son John got married and decided to move into his mother’s house with his new bride Linda. It was a ménage à trois made out of convenience and the young couple was staying there mostly to regroup and work on their future plans. But Didi the drunkard and Linda the unicorn painter were not getting along and John the Dungeons and Dragons nut was stuck in the middle.

Christian was quietly living in the back and according to the Sohuses’ friends, did not socialize with them. In fact, they hardly had any contact. Not long afterwards, the couple vanished. A missing persons report was filed and the police came out to investigate. According to Didi and a few others, Linda had told them they were going on a secret mission; John was already gone and she would soon follow.

Their friends eventually received postcards from Europe signed by John and Linda. That was enough for the police to back off. When an officer had knocked on the door of the guest house to talk to the occupant, Christian, who was now Christopher Mountbatten Chichester, had opened the door stark naked and that was enough to rebuff the policeman. Christopher was not questioned and that was the extent of the investigation.

That was in 1985, and in their defense, the cops and the media were busy chasing the infamous Night Stalker and could not allocate resources to a case that appeared to be more about two people wanting to travel and explore the world than about foul play.

Two weeks later, Christopher Chichester moved out with his suitcase and his fancy business cards that displayed a crest and his title of thirteenth Baronet as well as a motto that said ‘Firm en foi.’ It is hard to believe that the educated upper crust of San Marino bought the story of this German national posing as British royalty, but they did. He even told them that he was the nephew of the renowned world explorer Francis Chichester, captain of the Gypsy Moth who had  navigated the globe.

Not unlike the play Six Degrees of Separation, which was based on the true story of an imposter who pretended to be Sydney Poitier’s son in order to infiltrate some upper crust circles, Christian knew the value of a name. No one in San Marino would have given him the time of day if his name was German or common so he played name dropping and watched them a-coming.

Three years later, a pickup truck that used to belong to the Sohuses turned up in Greenwich, Connecticut during a transfer of ownership. It raised flags all the way to San Marino and the authorities wanted to know who had the vehicle and why. They traced it to a Christopher Crowe, formerly known as Christopher Chichester and they tried to contact him for questioning.

But this Christopher was having none of it. He had now introduced himself to the community as movie director Cameron Crowe’s brother and as a movie producer himself. He even had a poster of Alfred Hitchcock Presents that identified him as the producer. It was much better than the old business card trick. He went as far as showing some of the shows to his new friends while explaining to them how he had set up certain shots. But this ‘producer’ was not going to talk to the authorities, no siree!

Our name thief had a girlfriend at the time and she helped him evade police; he told her he was chased by bad people who were posing as cops. He even said he was somehow related to the queen of England and that they wanted to kidnap his family. Persuasion was definitely his game because she believed him. She covered it up so well that he proposed marriage in return. And so it went.

He took her on a trip to Maine and while making a reservation at a fancy restaurant, he realized that if he gave the name Rockefeller, the best table was available; otherwise, there was nothing open. What’s in a name? Everything it seems. So he spontaneously gave the name Clark Rockefeller to the maître D’ and it became a keeper. A very bold move, considering that many residents of the area were real Rockefellers.

Digging up the evidence

This new identity was born in 1994. That same year, the new owner of the San Marino home where the Sohuses had lived, dug up the backyard to install a swimming pool and found human bones. They were identified as belonging to John Sohus. His wife’s remains were not found and she had not been heard from since 1985.

The plot thickened and the police once again did not really dig very deep or follow the chain of names all the way to Clark Rockefeller. This time, it was not the Night Stalker but the Nicole Brown Simpson case that was occupying all of their resources. In the meantime, Clark had dropped his loyal and gullible Japanese girlfriend of seven years whom he had proposed marriage to, and had moved on to greener pastures.

He ended up marrying Sandy Boss who was quite a catch. She was rich, a Harvard MBA and the youngest partner in the history of a huge worldwide Management firm called McKinsey. And she also fell hook, line and sinker for his stories. She thought she was marrying a Rockefeller so her vision became blurry. What’s in a name?

The couple, who eventually had a daughter, settled in Manhattan; Sandy working and taking care of business and Clark establishing himself as a Rockefeller. In the past, he had talked himself into a job selling bonds for S.N. Phelps and Company, and after being fired, became head of bond trading at Nikko Securities. Needless to say, he had no expertise in this area but was smart enough to have passed the tests. He also talked himself into a membership at the Yacht Club of Greenwich, Connecticut. As a Rockefeller, he mostly kept busy with his prestigious collection of fake paintings.

In 1998, he met writer Walter Kirn who became a long term friend. Walter was a very bright man who also fell for the Rockefeller honey trap. They met when Clark inquired about adopting a paralyzed Gordon setter from the Humane Society who had dispatched Walter because he had gone to Princeton and had what it takes to deal with such a ‘prestigious’ client. Walter was told by Clark that he would have a chef cooking for the dog and that a famous animal acupuncturist lived in his building. He went all out and it worked perfectly.

On the home front, the Rockefellers were having marital problems and in 2008, the relationship came to a breaking point. This is when the chickens came home to roost. Clark and Sandy’s daughter, who was named Reigh aka Snooks, became the point of contention in the divorce. Clark initially received custody of the child. Unhappy about the decision, Sandy’s father decided to have him investigated by a PI. They were shocked to find out that Clark Rockefeller did not exist and that there was no trace of him before 1994. He was a fraud and his past was a blank page. It gave them leverage to renegotiate the settlement and the custody arrangements.

His former wife told him that if he would fess up about his identity, she would give him custody. But he refused, asked her for a settlement of $800,000 in gold and declared he would accept supervised visitations instead. She gave him what he wanted but on his second scheduled supervised visit, he kidnapped his daughter.

Christian and Snooks

He had a getaway plan that he executed to perfection and ended up in Baltimore with daughter in tow. This time, the law was on his trail and they did not let up until they found him. His new identity was Chip Smith. He had picked a commoner name to be able to blend in. Nobody would notice a Smith but who could go on the lam with a name like Rockefeller?

The FBI had stepped in because the parental abduction was tied to the Rockefeller name. They soon found him after a realtor who had seen him on television called the tip line. He was handcuffed and taken to the station. The fun began when they fingerprinted him. They realized that he was wanted in connection with a cold case in San Marino.

After discussing his numerous identities with ‘Chip’, they brought up the subject of the murder and that is when he turned silent and asked for a lawyer. He received five years in prison for the kidnapping and did his time mostly at the Los Angeles jail. He was subsequently tried for the murder of John Sohus.

It took a long time to fully investigate the disappearance of the Sohuses and John’s murder because the Los Angeles County Sheriff’s Cold Case Unit had about 20,000 homicides that were backlogged and they only had six full-time investigators. But the kidnapping and the name Rockefeller made the media take notice and that is all it took to put the police and the FBI on his scent. What’s in a name?

Walter Kirn

According to Kirn, even though he was German, Clark had learned English by watching Gilligan’s Island religiously and had modeled his accent on Thurston Howell III. He could also sing all the tunes and enjoyed it immensely. That is one of the elements that had cemented their friendship. Being from the same generation, they also shared many other interests.

Without the tragic and sinister disappearance of the couple, I would have somehow enjoyed this guy’s commitment to reinvention and appreciated the humor behind it; seeing the upper crust deceived because of their deep-rooted snobbery is not at all unpleasant.

When Clark was found out, Walter Kirn is probably the only one who was honest enough to admit that he was fooled by this fake Rockefeller. Most of the others tried to preserve their ego by saying they knew something was off or that he was ‘strange.’ In fact, they had not thought anything was strange or they would have exposed him sooner.

Kirn followed the trial and it was a circumstantial case at best. There was no motive and from all accounts, Christopher hardly had any contact with John or his wife. The police had speculated that Linda might have had an affair with him but it was unlikely that this 6-foot-tall redhead would have been of any use to him. During trial, a lot of solid and somewhat convincing circumstantial evidence came in.

First, he was living in the guest house at the time of the murder and the body of John Sohus was discovered buried behind it. It made him a definite person of interest. The body had been cut in three parts with a saw and a neighbor who happened to be a respected judge, remembered lending ‘Chichester’ his electrical saw at that specific time. The head was found wrapped in a University of Wisconsin book bag where he had been a student and it was from the same era. Pretty incriminating so far but clearly not sufficient. A USC bag was also used to wrap the body and Christopher had been auditing classes there.

At the time of the murder, a neighbor had smelled horrible smoke coming out of the guest house chimney and had approached the tenant about it before getting ready to call the police. The suspect had told the concerned neighbor that he was burning carpet. He had tried to sell it to a different neighbor first but was turned down because there was a blood stain on it.

The fact that the suspect was driving the couple’s truck two years after they disappeared was also a strong incriminating element that came up at trial. How else would it have been in his possession? Even if the prosecution did not provide a motive for this crime, the circumstances were lining up.

Even if John’s wife Linda was still officially missing and could have been the one who murdered her husband before fleeing, it was very unlikely that a jury would buy this story. Linda was a fantasy artist who painted unicorns, centaurs and fairies. A naive woman who worked at a science fiction store called Dangerous Visions, Linda could have easily bought the conspiracy theories of her neighbor because of her own world of fantasy.

So her story of ‘covert mission’ sounded more like it came directly from the mouth of their neighbor than her own. She told friends that the CIA wanted her for her art. It is believed that after he killed John, Christopher told Linda that her husband had gone on a secret mission and she would soon join him. We can only let our imagination run wild on what really happened to poor Linda afterwards.

The U.S. Border and Customs Protection agency was able to confirm that Linda had never left the United States which explained why the Parisian postcards signed by Linda were fakes. The stamps, after forensic examination, revealed that they had been licked by a man and not a woman, and it was not John. They found a collection of postcards from around the world at the defendant’s address and it appears he had pulled that trick before; a card signed by Christian was sent from England while it was confirmed he was in the US. Still very circumstantial but one more piece of the puzzle.

On the other hand, Lydia Marano, Linda’s former boss, had stated that she had received two reference calls indicating Linda had applied for a job and a credit card after her disappearance. Ruth Sohus’s credit cards were stolen and used at several businesses in New York during that time period. So it almost sounds like Linda could have left with Chichester.

San Marino house

One of the strangest pieces of evidence in this case came from guests ‘Christopher’ had invited to a trivial pursuit party behind the guest house. They had seen disturbed earth right where the body was dug up. At the time, they were told that the digging was due to some plumbing problems. But it was later proven that there were no pipes in that specific area. It is rather disturbing to imagine him playing a trivia game near a burial mound but reality is often stranger than fiction.

The suspect had also enquired to a friend about the best way to dispose of a 50 gallon drum filled with chemicals. His friend mentioned the National forest as the best location. The torso portion of John’s remains was found in a drum but on the property.

The journalists reported that the defendant appeared cold and ‘creepy’ in the courtroom and it might have influenced the jury. It should not have but it is definitely known to happen. He had been renamed the ‘Bavarian Prick’ by many of the people he screwed over and by the public at large.

Christian said he took debate and argument in College and prosecutor Balian checked it out. During the trial, after declaring it was the first time Christian had told the truth, he flashed a University transcript in his face to show he had received a D- in that course. It seemed to amuse many. Pretty irrelevant if you ask me but they were deconstructing him piece by piece and enjoying his humiliation. During most of the trial, Balian was an affable man but he probably brought up the grades to make sure no one was falling for the genius routine or to destabilize ‘Christian’ further because the evidence was not that strong.

Man with many faces

Most of the trial witnesses were highly educated and were either trading in Eurobonds, working in high end jobs or being superior court judges. And the jury was very urban so ‘Christian, Christopher, Clark, Chip de la Pudding Pop’ did not fare well. How dare he try to insert himself among the elite?

Christian’s defense was pretty simple: he was a con man, a silly liar, a fake who took advantage of old ladies and naive girls but he was never a violent man and he would never have killed John. He had no motive and did not change his identity to flee. He was totally innocent and changing his identity was part of his lifestyle and not a dark attempt at evading a murder. And the finger was pointed at Linda but with subtlety.

The fact that Christian fired his two high-priced Boston attorneys and ended up representing himself during the sentencing phase, did not help his case either. That was his chance to point directly at Linda and it backfired. And his local co-counsel, who looked like a real Valley girl with long blond hair, high heels and prominent cleavage, had brought a weird and distracting vibe to the whole process.

It would have surprised me greatly if that urban jury would have taken a long time to deliberate. They were going to spit him out and fast. It took them only five hours. And that name dropper wearing a blue blazer and loafers without socks was sent to jail for 27 years.

We might never know the motive for this alleged murder and what happened to Linda. Was it a heat of the moment attack? Did John discover his lies? It would have been simpler to move on as he often had. He had nothing to gain financially but it seems plausible that it happened, even if the evidence was very circumstantial. It was really more about his character. Would he have been found guilty if he was not a con man?

According to Walter Kirn, if you want to understand society’s class system, you have to look at how their murders are investigated. And very wisely, Kirn calls this one ‘the Eleanor Rigby case’: all the lonely people. The victims did not have many friends, the old lady did not really have friends and Christian Gerhartsreiter never had a real friend either. Only people he was trying to steal from or deceive in order to belong to the right circle.

This is a real testimony to insecurity, loneliness and what happens to people who have no one. This case became high profile only because Christian was pretending to be someone who happened to be a Rockefeller. It would not have received any attention otherwise. Nobody would have cared about the kidnapping of the little girl if it was not attached to this prestigious name.

So what’s in a name? Your status, your reputation, your ancestry, your respect and opportunities and at times, oblivion. But for the lonely Bavarian kid dreaming of being someone in America and not realizing the importance of building his own accomplishments, a coveted name brought him down in the end.

“Eleanor Rigby”

All the lonely people
Where do they all come from?
All the lonely people
Where do they all belong?

by BJW Nashe

Sid Vicious and Nancy Spungen’s death-trip punk romance culminated in her murder in October, 1978, followed by his death from a heroin overdose in early 1979. For thirty years, the prevailing view held that Sid, the troubled Sex Pistols’ bassist, was the one who fatally stabbed Nancy in their room at Manhattan’s infamous Chelsea Hotel. In 2009, a documentary film called Who Killed Nancy? was released, which drew upon “new evidence” to show that Vicious was most likely innocent of the murder. Several news outlets followed up with stories questioning the established version of events. The main point was that Sid was too incapacitated from drugs to kill anyone on the night of Nancy’s death, so comatose from the massive dose of sedatives (30 Tuinals) he had gobbled that he couldn’t even lift a knife, let alone stab anyone.

So Sid’s legend no longer includes murder. His reputation as a punk icon should survive this relatively minor setback. There’s still plenty of bad behavior on his resume. Sid remains a potent symbol of anarchy and rebellion. Yet make no mistake: the reality of his short life in the limelight was marked by absurdity. He was a bit of a joke. His real name wasn’t Sid, it was John Ritchie, and he wasn’t particularly “vicious.” He grew up as a shy misfit from London’s working class. He became a rock star even though he couldn’t play music. He hardly contributed anything at all to his band’s hit album, Never Mind the Bollocks, Here’s the Sex Pistols. During the recording, Sid was hospitalized with hepatitis. He was famous simply for being famous — the biggest rock star of his era, based solely on his image as the ultimate nihilistic rebel. In the end, despondent over the death of his beloved Nancy, and horrified at the prospect of spending the rest of his life behind bars, Sid didn’t even have the guts to commit suicide. In a gruesome twist, he had his own mother administer the fatal dose.

If the incompetent Sid Vicious didn’t kill Nancy, who did? We’ll probably never know for sure. All we know is she was found lying dead in a pool of her own blood, clad in her black bra and panties, on the floor of the couple’s hotel bathroom. The murder remains shrouded in mystery, clouded over by the hazy recollections of seedy drug addicts and punk rock bottom feeders, many of whom are by now either dead, or too damaged to provide much reliable testimony. Journalist Alan Parker, the director of Who Killed Nancy?, points out that there were fingerprints from six other persons found at the scene of the crime, yet none of them were interviewed by police. Parker claims that a likely suspect is a shady character named “Michael,” who presumably robbed an unconscious Sid of several thousand of dollars of cash he had in the room, and stabbed Nancy in the process. One suitably odd character, a fixture on the scene at the time, was a sometime actor and full-time addict known as Rockets Redglare. Redglare once told a journalist that Nancy was killed during the making of a snuff film. Just imagine the price this foul item would fetch on the murderabilia market. Rockets is long dead from liver failure, however, and he was never a very reliable source of information.

“Who killed Nancy?” Perhaps the more interesting question at this point is “Who was Nancy?”  Nancy Spungen tends to get a bad rap as the insufferable groupie from hell who sank her claws into the great Sid Vicious, the iconic “James Dean of Punk,” and then dragged him to his doom. Anyone who sees the Alex Cox film Sid and Nancy is unlikely to forget Chloe Webb’s shrieking, obnoxious portrayal of Spungen. Yet this is a cinematic caricature, containing only partial truth. Take a closer look, and a more complex character emerges. One of the best pieces of writing on Nancy is Karen Schoemer’s October 19, 2008 piece for New York Magazine. [http://nymag.com/arts/popmusic/features/51394/] In Schoemer’s reassessment, Nancy emerges as a more compelling, albeit disturbing, embodiment of pure punk rebellion and martyrdom than does Sid Vicious, or any of the other Sex Pistols. For Nancy, as well as other women on the scene such as Patti Smith and Deborah Harry and Penelope Houston, one can argue that the stakes were considerably higher than they were for the men. And for Nancy, who didn’t play in a band, to nonetheless become a major player on the scene is fairly remarkable. Nancy is the first superstar groupie. She’s worth paying attention to.

Juliet From Hell

Nancy Spungen was a middle class Jewish girl from the suburbs of Philadelphia. She was highly intelligent, but psychologically and emotionally troubled. Her family didn’t know how to handle her. Nancy was evidently one of those people who seem to have been put here for the sole purpose of raising holy hell. As a child, she screamed and yelled until she got her way. Her parents would give in just to get some peace and quiet, or because they were incapable of seeking alternative solutions. Nancy once attacked her mother with a hammer. She was diagnosed as schizophrenic at age 15, and spent time in a mental hospital. The psych ward didn’t help much, and probably only made her more rebellious. Let’s face it: girls who are “different” in some way have typically been pressured to conform, through outright coercion or with more subtle forms of bribery, rather than encouraged to express themselves via suitable means (art, music, writing, or whatever). As a society, we have made considerable improvements in this regard, with further progress yet to be made. In the sixties and seventies, however, many American girls still found themselves boxed into fairly rigid social and familial structures. As the hippie movement crashed and burned, suburban middle class life remained stifling and restrictive for young women. I’m not trying to blame society, or the Spungen family, for Nancy’s “problems.” I’m just trying to situate her behavior in its proper context.

In any case, Nancy found her upbringing stultifying. As a teenager, she proved to be utterly unwilling to pursue life as a “conventional” American female. In 1975, at the age of 17, she took off for New York City to fling herself into the hard rock scene. She lived on the Lower East Side, and trailed after hard-partying bands such as the Heartbreakers and the New York Dolls. She worked as a stripper and a prostitute on Times Square, then used the money to buy drugs for the musicians she pursued. She soon gained a reputation for wild, reckless behavior. By most accounts, she prowled the groupie scene like a wild, rapacious animal. Nancy didn’t play the standard, submissive groupie role. She was aggressive and in-your-face. She refused to hide her sex-for-money work (other groupies tended to avoid such activity, or keep it secret). Nancy didn’t reject one code of behavior — that of her suburban upbringing — in order to run off to the rock and roll circus, only to conform to another code of behavior — the one pertaining to groupies. Nancy rejected all codes of behavior. She probably didn‘t even know about Crowley, but she instinctively understood his maxim, “Do what thou will, shall be the whole of the law.” Conformists among the rocker/groupie scene naturally came to loathe her. She was too punk even for most of the other punks — some of whom were merely posers, or simply not as extreme as Nancy. Nancy was gonzo. She slept around, got wasted, pushed people down stairs.

In 1977, having worn out her welcome in New York, Nancy traveled to London to dive into the exploding punk rock subculture. There she located a prize suitable for her groupie ambitions. The prize was Sid Vicious, the bassist of the Sex Pistols. One can assume that Nancy, by this point, could eat punk boys like Sid for breakfast. Yet the two clicked in a deeper way. Supposedly a virgin before he met Nancy, Sid quickly fell in love with her. To seduce Sid, Nancy had to be more than just a she-devil. She was quite intelligent, for one thing. Sid came to rely on her brains and her street-savvy as he shambled his way through life as a newly famous rock star. Nancy supposedly could glean whether a person was a con artist or a phony right away — something which Sid struggled with. And Nancy herself was no faker. A lone interview clip — one of the few bits of footage of Nancy that survives from that pre-digital era — is very telling in this regard. While Sid and a member of the band Dead Boys goof around and mumble incoherently, Nancy comes across as a far more spirited and articulate spokesperson for the punk movement. She’s quick-witted, argumentative, and rude. And she’s committed to the lifestyle. The rebellion is not part of some “act” for her. She’s not posing. She’s also not content to sit on the sideline. She’s as important to the scene as Sid. And why not? It’s not as if Sid had some great musical talent she was lacking. Punk in the early days tended to knock down barriers between bands, groupies, journalists, and fans. It was all one big scene. Of course, that would change in time.

In addition to intelligence, Nancy also possessed some measure of kindness, to go along with all the vitriol. Certain punk insiders, such as Legs McNeil, author of the punk history Please Kill Me, have pointed out that Nancy, contrary to popular belief, could be a warm, friendly person. McNeil says that while Nancy’s ill-tempered rages were hard to ignore, this aspect of her personality was over-emphasized and exaggerated — probably because she was a woman. Plenty of the guys on the scene were just as deranged as Nancy. She was no worse than Dee Dee Ramone or Joey Ramone or Stiv Bators or Johnny Thunders. Punk rock was not exactly teeming with stable, well-adjusted, polite over-achievers. Mentally ill drug addicts were everywhere. They were all crazy, but most of them were nice at least some of the time.

No Future

Sid and Nancy’s tumultuous romance scandalized the music world. They were the Bonnie and Clyde of punk, Romeo and Juliet from hell. The term “dysfunctional co-dependency” doesn’t begin to capture the depths achieved during their downward spiral. They took drugs, they fought, and they took more drugs. Sid made enough money for both of them to become seriously addicted. Their lifestyle made a complete mockery of terms such as “relationship” and “career.” They made a spectacle of themselves wherever they went. Their reckless self-destructiveness knew no bounds. Johnny Rotten sneered about having “no future.” Iggy Pop sang a song called “Death Trip.” Sid and Nancy actually took the death-trip. They were what “no future” looked like back in 1978. For many, it was a repulsive, shocking thing to witness. Yet for millions of disaffected youth, Sid and Nancy presented a seductive image of pure rebellion. They were the face of the new “Blank Generation.” They were against everything.

When the Sex Pistols embarked on their brief, incendiary tour of the United States, mainly playing gigs in the Deep South, Sid’s bandmates forbade him from bringing Nancy along. Again, as a woman she was too punk for the punks. Sid spent the tour stumbling through concerts, dressed in leather pants and a dog collar, his shirtless upper torso and his bare, skinny arms bleeding where he’d slashed himself with razor blades. At one point, he carved the words “Gimme a Fix” in jagged letters across his chest and stomach. The tour ended with a show at Winterland in San Francisco. It was the band’s last show. At the height of their fame, the Sex Pistols simply called it quits. Johnny Rotten’s famous last words onstage were, “Do you feel cheated?” While the others went straight to the airport to board a plane back to London, Sid headed across town to a shooting gallery in the Haight, where he supposedly overdosed on heroin. He survived, this time.

Sid and Nancy eventually settled back in New York, where Sid planned to launch his solo career. Nancy lorded her success over the scene that had spurned her. Now she was more famous than any of the New York Dolls and their groupies. But the drug abuse was way out of hand. She and Sid holed up in Room 100 at the infamous Chelsea Hotel in Manhattan. The Chelsea, a longtime bohemian stronghold, had once been the home of luminaries such as Dylan Thomas and Thomas Wolfe, who both wrote and drank their way to an early grave there, as well as Bob Dylan and Leonard Cohen, who found the old hotel inspirational and convenient. Andy Warhol’s experimental film Chelsea Girls captured the place in all of its late sixties, speed-freak, transvestite glamour. By the late 1970s, the hotel was a run-down, drug-infested flophouse.

The Chelsea Hotel was perfect for Sid and Nancy, who mainly laid around in bed, nearly comatose, as couriers delivered them drugs. Occasionally, they ventured out to Max’s Kansas City, where Sid fronted an all-star punk band including Mick Jones, Johnny Thunders, and Richard Hell. Nancy sometimes joined him onstage. For even the most hardcore punk fans, Sid’s junkie act, as he nodded off and slurred his way through sloppy punk cover-songs, was growing tiresome. Attendance dwindled. Sid had some success with a new single, his recorded version of “My Way,” in which he ironically made a mess of the tune made famous by Sinatra. By and large, though, Sid’s solo career was going nowhere.

Death

On the morning of October 12, 1978, tragedy struck. Sid woke up from a deep drug stupor and found Nancy lying on the bathroom floor, stabbed to death. Sid called the police, who showed up and charged him with the murder. The knife definitely belonged to him, recently purchased on 42nd Street. Sid made conflicting statements to the cops. He said he stabbed Nancy during an argument, but that he didn’t want to kill her. He said she accidentally fell onto the knife. Then, he said he simply couldn’t remember what happened.

If Sid had been out of control before, now he truly fell apart. Ten days after Nancy’s death, he attempted suicide by slitting his wrist with a smashed light bulb. He spent some time in the mental ward at Bellevue Hospital. On December 8, he was arrested and charged with assault after an altercation with Todd Smith (Patti Smith’s brother) at a concert by the band Skafish. For this, Vicious spent 55 days at Rikers Island. On February 1, 1979, he was released on bail.

To celebrate his release, on February 2, Sid Vicious attended a macabre dinner party at the New York apartment of his new girlfriend, Michele Robinson. Sid’s mother, Anne, herself a long-time addict, showed up to the gathering. Sid, who had undergone methadone detoxification at Rikers, was craving dope, and convinced his mum to score for him. Unaccustomed to his typical large dose, and surprised by an unusually pure batch of heroin, Sid overdosed at midnight. He was revived by his companions. He and Michele reportedly went to bed some time near 3:00 A.M.

What happened next was subsequently pieced together by police and the press. Apparently Sid, his death wish unabated, wanted another dose of heroin. Michele wanted no part of it, and left the room. Sid summoned his mother, who later confessed to journalist Alan Parker that she administered the fatal injection to her son. Parker surmised that she did this because she knew Sid didn’t want to face the horrors of a murder trial, and a likely return to prison. She allegedly found a note in Sid’s leather jacket that explained the death pact he had made with Nancy: “We had a death pact, and I have to keep my half of the bargain. Please bury me next to my baby. Bury me in my leather jacket, jeans and motorcycle boots. Goodbye.”

Whatever the rationale, the end result was that Sid Vicious was found dead on the morning of February 3. He couldn’t be buried next to Nancy, because she’d been laid to rest in a Jewish cemetery. Instead, Sid’s body was cremated and his ashes were scattered over Nancy’s grave.

No Moral to the Story

Sid and Nancy both died too young — she was just 20, and he was only 21. What can we reasonably conclude about this unholy pair? I’d like to think that even if they were a joke, they were a serious joke — the kind of deadly serious, sick joke often needed to shake society from its doldrums. The fact that neither of them had any real marketable talent, yet still achieved great fame and influence, only adds to their punk appeal. “Talent” was just another elitist concept to tear down, smash apart, or deconstruct. As personifications of subversion, Sid and Nancy posed a symbolic threat to the established order — both within the music business and extending outward to society at large. Nancy in particular took punk rebellion to new levels of outrage, especially for women involved in rock and roll. Rock stars often get praised and rewarded for being nonconforming outsiders. Nancy shows us that the groupies and strippers and hookers who are so integral to the scene are often the ones who are truly living on the edge. Usually, they don’t become stars. Nancy did, so she deserves extra credit. She was outrageous.

Even if Sid and Nancy were a sick joke, I’d like to think they were more than just fools. I’d like to think that they did exactly what they wanted to do, and died exactly as they wanted to die. If that doesn’t please us, so what. Rehab and recovery and responsibility wasn’t in the cards for them, which is too bad. But I see no need to moralize about Sid and Nancy. They had a death pact. They never hurt anyone other than themselves. They certainly never claimed to be “role models.” Rather than judge them, I prefer to view them as fascinating creatures, part of life’s rich pageant. They became famous, and went viral, because we ultimately derive spiritual depth and power from the mad, crazy ones among us who cannot be controlled, and who refuse to play by the rules. Sometimes we need outrageousness, especially when it comes to art and music. We need it more than we need a “moral to the story.” And we need it more than we need to solve a thirty year-old crime.

So we might as well let Nancy’s murder serve as the final outrage: it will most likely remain unsolved forever.

commentary by Patrick H. Moore

We all know that for the most part the poor people get the dirty end of the stick. On occasion, however, even the privileged are confronted by bad luck so uncanny that one would think a malevolent fate – cackling gleefully – had singled them out for particularly nightmarish treatment.

Nightmarish treatment, however, comes in degrees and levels, and is in the eye of the beholder. I think all of us would agree, though, that to be 88-years-old, comfortably retired, dwelling contentedly with your wife of 7 decades, and to have your world turned upside down (literally) by DECAPITATION would be a singularly malevolent fate.

Reynolds Plantation (AKA Great Waters) is a gated neighborhood of expansive homes on the shore of sprawling Lake Oconee outside Eatonton, Georgia. It is approximately 75 miles southeast of Atlanta. Security officers abound and crime is rare. In a news conference, Putnam County Sheriff Howard Sills opined:

“This home is in one of the most exclusive gated communities in the state of Georgia. I don’t remember even a burglary that I can even recall in the whole subdivision.” 

So where’s the beef, you ask? Hold onto your heads and I will tell you…

Homeowner Russell Dermond, 88, was found beheaded in his Georgia garage attached to his 3,300 square-foot home on Tuesday, May 6^th. The grisly crime was discovered by a friend who happened to spot his headless body lying inside the garage. His head was nowhere to be found, however, and as of Friday morning, it had still not been located.

Mr. Dermond’s wife, 87-year-old Shirley Dermond is missing and is believed to have been kidnapped as part of what appears to be a rather macabre home invasion.

An autopsy has been performed and Putnam County Deputy Coroner Marcus Turner reports that Russell Dermond was already dead when his head was cut off. He is believed to have died of a head or brain injury.

Local law enforcement is, frankly, stumped, and the FBI has been called in to help with the search for poor Shirley.

In the press conference, Sheriff Sills said the couple’s lakefront home showed no signs of a struggle or forced entry and no ransom note was left behind.

“We looked in the woods adjacent to the house, we looked in the lake. Her pocketbook and things like that are there, her cellphone is there, the car is there — we don’t have anything to track.” 

Sheriff Sills believes that the apparent precision of, first, the decapitation of Russell Dermond, and second, the kidnapping of his wife suggests that the killing wasn’t random.

The Sheriff was careful to point out that law enforcement, at least at this juncture, does not view Shirly Dermond as a suspect:

“The best we can determine from all sources is that this was a perfect marriage. There’s nothing that we have found out so far that looks askance or gives us any particular motive.” 

“The body was moved, and I just don’t think an 87-year-old lady can do it. She’s gone. Her personal effects are still at the house. The totality of what we’re seeing here leaves me to believe she was abducted and not a suspect. But I’m never going to say never until I know differently.”

Investigators are interviewing people who knew the Dermonds, and authorities are also reviewing surveillance footage from the community.

“I certainly hope that she’s still alive but I’m not overly optimistic because of (what happened to) her husband. If it’s an abduction, you would expect some sort of extortion demand. If it was an assassination you would think both of the people would be there — both bodies would be there.”

Mr. Dermond’s body was found Tuesday, a full five days ago, and as of Sunday, the investigators are believed to have no solid leads. In fact, Sheriff Sills, who seems to be displaying an admirable candor, said police have not been able to come up with any suspects despite speaking to relatives, including the couple’s three children, who have been cooperative, and speaking to several friends and acquaintances.

“Let me tell you, the only person who is not a suspect is Sheriff Sills, because I know where I was,” said the Sheriff, who seems to lack any measure of untoward self-importance.

Sills did suggest that the killer-kidnapper(s) could have arrived by boat:

“This is a huge lake. It spans four counties and entry could’ve been made by the lake.”

The Dermonds moved to Great Waters from Atlanta after he retired. Russell Dermond reportedly used to own fast food franchises. Neither Russell nor Shirley had any history of mental illness nor known health problems.

The couple has three children, two sons and a daughter, all of whom live out of state and are cooperating with investigators. The last contact any of the children had with their parents was April 29th.

Sills told Channel 2 that there hasn’t been a home invasion in the area for 18 years.

The Dermonds’ neighbors are shocked that such a violent crime had been committed against the couple.

“We were all in shock and we really just don’t know how they’d have any enemies or anybody who’d want to do anything to them,” the Reverend David Key of Oconee Lake Community Church told USA Today.

“They’re the last couple that you would think anybody would break in and do this kind of violence to.”

Naturally, relatives of the couple said they were praying that police find the elderly woman alive.

“This absolutely makes no sense at all,” their son, Bradley Dermond, who had driven up from Florida, told WMAZ-TV. He added that his parents were the “salt of the Earth.”

*     *     *     *     *

A few things to consider (which the investigators probably have already looked into): Whether the killer-kidnapper(s) arrived by boat or car, you would expect there to be some kind of surveillance videos. How did they get into the gated complex? Do the guards keep a record of all non-residents who enter the complex? Are their walls that the murderer(s) might have scaled? Of course, it the murderers arrived by water they could have presumably docked and walked up to the house, perhaps entering through a back door.

These are all fairly obvious questions. One possibility, however, which really needs to be considered is this: Was Shirley Dermond even present at the time of the home invasion? Perhaps she was somewhere else playing bridge or canasta with her friends. (Do people still play canasta?) Or God forbid, perhaps Sheriff Sills is wrong and Ms. Dermond turned against her husband for unknown reasons and was in cahoots with the murderer(s)…

Whatever the facts of the case turn out to be (assuming it is ever solved), terrifying incidents of this nature are part of the reason so many American homeowners are armed and dangerous. People should be able to feel safe in their homes. Although I live in what has historically been a rather safe neighborhood tucked securely away in a reasonably safe city, there are moments when I wonder if I should get off my high horse and start packing heat. Suppose killer-kidnappers armed with machetes burst through our French doors with mayhem in mind. My severed head could roll across the floor of my computer room even as I’m bravely attempting to type this last sen……

compiled by Patrick H. Moore

This compelling yet horrifying array of 51 disturbing quotes from 19 disturbed serial killers is drawn from the public domain. Although I’m quite certain that each and everyone of these killers had their moments of intense terror and loneliness, I am struck by the fact that some of them seem far more unhappy than others. For example, Aileen Wuornos may have been one of the most unhappy women that every lived. Compared to her, suave Mr. Bundy seems to to be feeling only moderate pain, while the deadly Dahmer appears to be consumed with guilt over his actions. What all of this boils down to is that although serial killers may well shares many basic personality characteristics, they are all different which makes it tough to generalize effectively about them.

Aileen Wuornos  (the saddest woman who ever lived)

“May your wife and children get raped, right in the ass. (to the jurors who convicted her) “

“To me, this world is nothing but evil, and my own evil just happened to come out cause of the circumstances of what I was doing.

David Berkowitz  (was no doubt possessed by something though probably not the devil)

“A ‘possessed’ dog in the neighborhood won’t let me stop killing until he gets his fill of blood.”

“Hello from the gutters of New York City, which are filled with dog manure, vomit, stale wine, urine and blood.”

“I am a monster. I am the Son of Sam. I love to hunt.”

“I was literally singing to myself on my way home, after the killing. The tension, the desire to kill a woman had built up in such explosive proportions that when I finally pulled the trigger, all the pressures, all the tensions, all the hatred, had just vanished, dissipated, but only for a short time.”

“The demons wanted my penis.”

Ed Gein  (the inspiration for Psycho, Texas Chainsaw Massacre and Silence of the Lamps. Gein lived in my home state of Wisconsin)

“She isn’t missing. She’s at the farm right now.”

“I had a compulsion to do it.”

“They smelled bad.”

Edmund Kemper (Big Ed was tall, large and reportedly had the I.Q. of a genius. He has been a model prisoner.)

“Even when she was dead, she was still bitching at me. I couldn’t get her to shut up!”

“I just wanted to see how it felt to shoot Grandma.”

“I remember there was actually a sexual thrill . . . you hear that little pop and pull their heads of and hold their heads up by the hair. Whipping their heads off, their body sitting there. That’d get me off.”

“The first good-looking girl I see tonight is going to die.”

“With a girl, there’s a lot left in the girl’s body without a head. Of course, the personality is gone.”

H.H Holmes (completely unique in that he built his notorious Murder Castle where he apparently did in his victims)

“I was born with the devil in me. I could not help the fact that I was a murderer, no more than the poet can help the inspiration to sing..I was born with the evil one standing as my sponsor beside the bed where I was ushered into the world, and he has been with me since.”

Henry Lee Lucas (Henry was without a doubt the victim of bad parenting. The cult film, “Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer” is loosely based on him and possibly Ottis Toole. I strongly recommend it but keep in mind, it is not for the faint at heart.)

“I hated all my life. I hated everybody. When I first grew up and can remember, I was dressed as a girl by mother. And I stayed that way for two or three years. And after that was treated like what I call the dog of the family. I was beaten. I was made to do things that no human bein’ would want to do.”

“Sex is one of my downfalls. I get sex any way I can get it. If I have to force somebody to do it, I do…I rape them; I’ve done that. I’ve killed animals to have sex with them, and I’ve had sex while they’re alive. “

Ian Brady (Brady, killer of children along with his partner Myra Hindley, was apparently quite the intellectual. He is old and ill now and has expressed his fervent desire to die but the British authorities insist on keeping him alive by means of a feeding tube.)

“Contrary to popular perception, the so-called Moors Murders were merely an existential exercise of just over a year, which was concluded in December 1964.”

Jeffrey Dahmer (What can you say about Dahmer that has not already been said and re-said?)

“I carried it too far, that’s for sure. “

“I’ve got to start eating at home more..”

“My consuming lust was to experience their bodies.I viewed them as objects, as strangers. It is hard for me to believe a human being could have done what I’ve done”

“I couldn’t find any meaning for my life when I was out there, I’m sure as hell not going to find it in here. This is the grand finale of a life poorly spent and the end result is just overwhelmingly depressing… it’s just a sick, pathetic, wretched, miserable life story, that’s all it is. How it can help anyone, I’ve no idea.”

John Wayne Gacy (I don’t like this guy at all though I am weirdly enchanted by his Clown Paintings.)

“A clown can get away with murder.”

“The only thing they can get me for is running a funeral parlor without a license.”

Peter Kurten  (known as The Vampire of Dusseldorf)

“After my head has been chopped off, will I still be able to hear, at least for a moment , the sound of my own blood gushing from my neck? That would be the best pleasure to end all pleasure. “

Richard Ramirez (The Night Stalker was smart and could have done much good in the world if he’d had a decent childhood.)

“Big deal, death comes with the territory. See you in Disneyland.”

“I’ve killed 20 people, man. I love all that blood.”

“Even psychopaths have emotions, then again, maybe not.”

“We’ve all got the power in our hands to kill, but most people are afraid to use it. The ones who aren’t afraid, control life itself.”

“You maggots make me sick, I will be avenged. Lucifer dwells within us all.”

Ted Bundy  (There’s something quintessentially creepy about Bundy. A little too suave and self-serving for my taste.)

“I haven’t blocked out the past. I wouldn’t trade the person I am, or what I’ve done – or the people I’ve known – for anything. So I do think about it. And at times it’s a rather mellow trip to lay back and remember.”

“I just liked to kill, I wanted to kill.”

“You learn what you need to kill and take care of the details…Its like changing a tire…The 1st time you’re careful…By the 30th time, you can’t remember where you left the lug wrench.”

“You feel the last bit of breath leaving their body. You’re looking into their eyes. A person in that situation is God!”

Albert DeSalvo (Although DeSalvo was definitely a rapist, it has not been definitively settled whether he was actually a murderer. That could be why his quote seems unlike those of the “real” serial killers. His remains have been exhumed in hopes of obtaining DNA matches.)

“It wasn’t as dark and scary as it sounds. I had a lot of fun…killing somebody’s a funny experience.”

Albert Fish (Like Henry Lee Lucas, Fish was very likely prone to exaggerating his evil deeds. He was one of the early lucky fellows to “ride the chair” at Sing Sing Correctional Facility in New York.)

“I always had the desire to inflict pain on others and to have others inflict pain on me. I always seemed to enjoy everything that hurt. The desire to inflict pain, that is all that is uppermost. “

 ”I saw so many boys whipped, it took root in my head.”

 ”I like children, they are tasty.”

Arthur Shawcross (This execrable human claimed to have eaten the vaginas of 3 of his 11 known female victims.)

“I took the right leg of that woman’s body, from the knee to the hip took the fat off and ate it while he stared at the other girl. When I bit into it she just urinated right there.”

“She was giving me oral sex, and she got carried away . . . So I choked her.”

Dennis Rader ( “BTK” was his infamous signature. It stands for “Bind, Torture, Kill”.)

“When this monster entered my brain, I will never know, but it is here to stay. How does one cure himself? I can’t stop it, the monster goes on, and hurts me as well as society. Maybe you can stop him. I can’t.”

“I actually think I may be possessed with demons, I was dropped on my head as a kid.”

Charles Manson  (You have to admit that Charlie is quite the character.)

“I’ve killed no one. I’ve ordered no one to be killed. These children who come to you with their knives, they’re your children. I didn’t teach them, you did.”

“Total paranoia is just total awareness.”

“Believe me, if I started murdering people there’d be none of ya left.”

“You know, if I wanted to kill somebody, I’d take this book and beat you to death with it. And I wouldn’t feel a thing. It’d be just like walking to the drug store.”

Carl Panzram (Panzram confessed to 22 murders, and to having sodomized over 1,000 males. He was hanged for having murdered a prison employee at Leavenworth Federal Penitentiary in 1930.)

“I wish you all had one neck and that I had my hands on it.”

 “Today I am dirty , but tomorrow I’ll be just dirt.”

“Hurry up, you Hoosier bastard, I could kill ten men while you’re fooling around!”

The Zodiac Killer Quotes (The Zodiac was very smart although he certainly might have been brought to justice if modern forensic techniques had been available during his “reign of terror”.)

“If the blue meanies are going to get me they’d better get off their asses and do something.”