For an instant, neither of them knew
what had happened. Then, as their startled
eyes fixed on the hole in the wall, their
faces blanched as they realized how close
death had come to them:
The Walter couple heard nothing from
outside their home and, when they dared
to look out, they saw no one.
Officers who answered their call found
no clues, When they started to pick the
slug from the wall it fell inside the walls. -
Since there was no apparent reason for
anyone to be shooting at Mr. and Mrs.
Walter, it appeared most likely that this
too was another stray bullet which had
found its way through their window and
into the plaster only a few inches from
the heads of the couple.
"THE NEXT evening, which was Wednes-
day, Mrs. Hiles twice answered her
telephone, and twice the caller hung up
without replying to her repeated “Hello.
Hello.”
“Somebody’s trying to be funny,” she
said to herself. “Now who could that be?” -
While she sat watching the television
this question kept going through her mind,
and’ during this same period Mrs. Nina
Maria Bice, an attractive young woman
with curly brown hair, was putting her
18-months-old daughter, Denise, to sleep
at 730 South Fetterly Avenue, in East Los
Angeles, five miles away. Mrs. Hiles and
Mrs. Bice knew nothing of each other.
Mrs. Bice had lived with her mother
at the address since her separation and
divorce from her husband. Her other two
children, Dixie Lee, 4, and David, 3, were
in the care of Mr. Bice’s mother. Mrs.
Bice worked as a waitress to support her-
self and Denise.
Shortly after. the baby was asleep, Wil-
liam Hannah dropped in, and they sat talking. They talked
about their coming marriage—for Mrs. Bice had again fallen
in love. :
A little later Betty DeGrado, a 16-year-old neighbor, also
dropped in and they all decided to go down to the hot-dog stand
where Bob DeGrado, Betty’s brother, worked.
They drove to the open-air hot-dog stand at 1021 South At-
lantic Boulevard, Only a few blocks away. The stand was on the
corner of Olympic Boulevard, a busy intersection. It sat in the .
center of a large parking area which was open all the way back
to the alley.
At about 10:40 o'clock, Mrs. Bice sat on an Open stool between
Miss DeGrado and Hannah. Bob DeGrado served them frank-
furters and coffee, and they were all laughing and talking.
Mrs. Bice raised her coffee cup to her lips. Then suddenly
there was a pop-like’ sound. The coffee cup fell from the hands
of Mrs. Bice, who reeled and fell from the stool to the black
asphalt paving. She was dead instantly from a single slug in
her head at the right ear. ;
Betty screamed. Hannah grabbed for Mrs. Bice. Bob DeGrado
lunged out of the stand and ran toward the alley from where the
Popping sound had come. Hannah, realizing he could do nothing
for his Sweetheart, ran around the other way.
Neither DeGrado nor Hannah saw anyone. They neither saw
nor heard ‘any automobile racing away from the scene. The
death-dealing slug had come from nowhere, fired from the gun
of an unseen phantom killer,
CAPTAIN GORDON BOWERS and Inspector Garner Brown
assumed personal command of the investigations. Lieutenant
Rosenberg and Sergeant Leslie, who had investigated the Kruetzer
case, were assigned to this one.
“It’s a thousand to one,” Bowers said, “that the Kruetzer case,
Mrs. Joan Miles, shown sitting on divan where she nat a few minutes
before shot came through screen. The window was draped at the time.
the Walter case and this one are all the work of the same mad
killer.”
“At least they all aren't accidents,” Brown declared.
With dozens of officers brought into the case, the investiga-
tions moved swiftly. As in the other cases no clues or witnesses
could be found at the scene. Betty, Bob and Hannah could tell
them nothing except that suddenly there was a shot and Mrs.
Bice slumped from the stool, dead.
Mrs. Ruby Unger, mother of Mrs. Bice, wept as she told the
officers that her daughter had no enemies. Her reputation was
beyond question. She was not, and had not been, involved with
anyone. Her only interests in life were her children and her
coming marriage to Hannah.
Many friends and neighbors confirmed this. Mrs. Bice’s em-
ployer and fellow employces at’ the Holy Cross Hospital Grill
said she was a quiet, industrious young woman.
Leon Bice, her divorced husband, lived at 9532 San Juan
Street, South Gate, about six miles away. He had recently mar-
ried again and was at his home at the time of the shooting. He
could do no more than express his decp regrets at what had
happened. He could offer the police no. information which
might start them on. the trail of the mysterious rifleman.
The next day autopsy surgeons removed a .22-caliber slug
from the head of Mrs. Bice. At about the same time surgeons
in the General Hospital removed a .22-caliber slug from the
lung of Mrs. Kruetzer,. Ballistic examination of the two slugs
soon revealed what the officers already felt sure about—they
had come from the same gun. Both were copper-jacketed: both
carried graphite on them.
“This, then, is our only clue,” Bowers said. “The same person
fired both. And we can assume that the same person fired the
one through the window of the Walter home.”
“But why?” Brown asked. “It doesn’t make sense.”
Mr. and 4:
shot at byw 1
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ued on page 50)
MURDER ON SIN STREET
(Continued from page 23)
would be very easy for the detective to
prove. The defendant denied ever having
been in jail. He contradicted himself sev-
eral times. When questioned about the
assault charge in Wilmington in 1945, Van
Wagner said, “Oh, that. Me and my wife
had a scrap.” He couldn't remember ever
being charged with non-support. “We only
had that one fight,” he said.
After Van Wagner denied deserting
from the army in 1949, Hall asked if he
would consent to a lie-detector test.
“Only in front of a lawyer,”*Van Wag-
ner replied.
When the stenographic transcript was
ready, he signed it and then went back to
a jail cell. ;
Hall then questioned Mrs. Palmer, Phil
Jordan, and the hotel owner who had re-
fused to rent a room to the couple. Their
answers gave a clear picture of Van Wag-
ner’s movements on the afternoon of
February 3rd. Each of them unhesitatingly -
identified Van Wagner as third from the
left in the police line-up. ‘They also agreed
that while Van Wagner had not been
drunk, his woman companion was thor-
oughly intoxicated.
On April 7th, the Dade County Grand
Jury indicted Van Wagner for first-degree
murder. The Court appointed two at-
torneys for the defendant. The attorneys
were E, Stuart Rubin and Robert M. Mc-
Closky.
DURING the time between arrest and
indictment, Hall rechecked the case
thoroughly. He sent the defendant's
clothes to the police laboratory for exam-
ination of the bloodstains found on them.
It was possible that Van Wagner might
say that the blood came from fish caught
during the time he was on the Venetian
Causeway, according to his alibi.
The laboratory report was no surprise;
the blood found on Van Wagner's trousers
was human.
The trial was set for April 16th in
Circuit Court, Judge George Holt presid-
ing. Van Wagner, meanwhile, had seen
the evidence piling up against him. He
agreed to plead guilty to the lesser charge
of second-degree murder. '
In his confession, Van Wagner said that
he had been looking for an apartment on
Sunday afternoon. He parked the car, and
a woman came over to him and asked him
to buy her a drink. According to him, he
ignored her and went into a bar to make
his phone calls. When he came back to
the car, the woman was still there. He
went back to the bar and bought a bottle
of whiskey. Phil Jordan did ask him to
move the car. Van Wagner and Phyllis
Warren were denied. a room bythe hotel
owner who had given testimony. Then
they went to Mrs. Palmer’s hotel and
drank the whiskey in Room Nine.
Van Wagner said that after he and
Phyllis Warren were in the room for a
time, he went to the bathroom. When he
came back to the room, he said, he found
Phyllis looking through papers in his
pocket. One paper was the envelope found
in the room. It was addressed to Mr. and
Mrs. Lohnas Van Wagner, he said, and
Phyllis threatened to tell his wife. He tried
to get the envelope, but she held it behind
her. He hit her “six or seven times on her
throat and face.” Then, he said, he passed
out. He could not remember strangling
her.
. Defense attorneys pointed out that Van
Wagner had had several spells of “blank-
completely while he was a private in the.
army. -
When he awoke in the hotel room; Van
Wagner said it was about three in the
morning. He reached over to wake Phyllis,
but found that she was. cold.
Frantic with fear, he left the hotel and
went home.
Judge Holt sentenced Van Wagner to
serve 30 years in State Prison.
Van Wagner's confession is probably
not the entire story. Phyllis Warren, if
she could talk, would no doubt have some
points to add. One discrepancy is the en-
velope, which Van Wagner said was the
cause of the violent argument. Even if
Van Wagner cared that much about the
sanctity of his marital obligations, there
was no evidence on the envelope to prove
that he was married. The address was not
‘to Mr. and Mrs., but rather to Van Wag-
ner alone. :
Possibly the cause of the fight was Van
Wagner's refusal to pay Phyllis, for after
paying for the room, he had no more
money.
At any rate, the truck driver’s tragi¢
Sunday is over. Thirty years is a high price
price to pay for buying a drink for a lady.
Epitor’s Note: The names Myrtle
Palmer and Phil Jordan used in the fore-
going story are fictitious.
HE
LIKED TO SHOOT WOMEN
(Continued from page 15)
only clue which officers could discover.
That evening Mrs. Hiles could hear the
person at the other end of the line breath-
ing when she answered the telephone.
But there was no other sound until the
click came, followed by the hum of a
dead line.
T WAS just a little more than a month
later that the next phantom slug found
its mark in the body of an unsuspecting
woman. It was the day after Christmas.
Mrs. Audrey Murdock was ironing in the
kitchen of her home at 1521 North Delta
Avenue, in the San Gabriel area.
Suddenly the mystery-slug came zing-
ing through the window as she leaned over
uw basket of clothes, The doctors found
that the slug had missed her heart, coursed
downward, and lodged in her liver. Re-
moval of the slug was too dangerous.
As in all the other cases, there were
no clues, no witnesses.
The officers worked desperately to de-
velop leads, ‘They clutched at the slightest
possibility und ran it to its end. But
nowhere could they find anything which
brought them any closer to the unseen
sniper who was making a habit of picking
off women at will.
There was not even a pattern, except
the use of a .22 caliber weapon. The
victims ranged in ages from the 10-year
old school child to middle-aged house-
wives. Some were very pretty; some were
average American types. Some _ were
slender; some were buxom. Some _ had
been in their homes; some were at: public
places. Some had been shot in the early
morning, some near the middle of the
day, and some near the middle of the
night. Although they all lived in the
general castern areca from the city of
los Angeles, nearly twenty miles sepa-
rated some of them. None of them had
any connection whatever with any: of the
others.
Sull, for some strange reason, a phan-
tomlike figure tied them all together in
making them each his victim.
And although at this time Mrs. Hiles
had no inkling that she was destined to
be in this bizarre picture, she still re-
ceived calls from the person who never
uttered a word when she answered the
telephone. ;
She had one of the calls on Tuesday
evening, April 15th, 1952. Her husband
had just left for work. If David had
not been asleep she would have let the
phone ring. The game had become tiring
to her. But again she went through with
it, only to hear the click and the dead
line hum. .
She returned the phone to its cradle,
and then went over and turned on the
television set. In a few minutes she was
settled in her usual place on the divan,
near the front window, and was watching
the television.
* For some reason she happened to no-
tice that’ the drapes of the front window
were not fully drawn. She got up and
drew them completely closed while still
watching the television screen.
At about 7:30 o'clock the ring of the
doorbell startled her for.a moment. She
went to the door and saw big, square-
39
-s, who was also
the family doctor
ouse so she drove
there was a tele-
the booth, closed
ito her purse for
ne slot. She was
udden sound and
d she felt a burn-
ad been shot, and
rergency Hospital,
fegrdle, shot as
in her garden.
and later to the Los Angeles County Gencral Hospital. There
was a small-caliber slug—probably a .22-caliber slug—lodged in
her left lung. Her condition was extremely serious, but the
doctors hoped, not fatal.
Sergeant Eugene Bailey of the Norwalk Substation of Sheriff
Eugene W. Biscailuz’s far-flung Department headed the first
group of officers to investigate the scene. They found no clues
whatever. They found no witnesses at all, although there were
many people around.
Captain Gordon J. Bowers, Chief of the Detective Bureau of
the Sheriff's Department, assigned Lieutenant Floyd Rosenberg
and Detective Sergeant Gilbert Leslie to make investigations.
They talked to Mrs. Kruetzer in the hospital, but she could give
no reason whatever for anyone to shoot her.
Since there was no apparent motive, since Mrs. Kruetzer just
happened to be in that phone booth at that time, since it had
occurred in the middle of the day, since it was a small-caliber
bullet and many people in the section owned small rifles, and
since there could be found no clues or witnesses, the officers
guessed that it was “one of those things,” a stray bullet which
fate had directed through the glass door of the phone booth
and into the breast of the young and pretty mother. Whether the
owner of the rifle was criminally responsible or not they couldn't
know until they learned who he or she was, if they ever did.
FARLY TUESDAY evening, ‘the next day, Mrs. Joan Hiles an-
swered the ringing of her telephone. Her husband had al-
ready gone to work, and little David was already in bed.
“Hello,” she said into the phone, but there was only silence
Mra. Audrey Murdock, (at
the left) the sixth victim.
till she heard the click on the other end and the dead line hum.
The young housewife shook her head in puzzlement as she
replaced the receiver.
A couple of hours later, at about 9:30 o’clock, Mr. and Mrs.
Lloyd M. Walter were sitting on the divan in their living room
at 11565 Davenich Street, in Norwalk. It was about a mile from
Mrs. Hiles’ residence, but the Hiles couple and the Walter couple
had never met.
Suddenly there was « popping sound, and something crashed
into the plastered wall just above and between the heads of Mr.
and Mrs. Walter.
Above, first victim,
Mrs. Lois Kructzer.
13
sat a few minutes
-aped at the time.
ork of the same mad
n declared.
- case, the investiga-
no clues or witnesses
id Hannah could tell
vas a Shot ‘and Mrs.
wept as she told the
Her reputation was
t been, involved with
ier children and her
ais. Mrs. Bice’s em-
Cross Hospital Grill
nan.
at 9532 San Juan
le had recently mar-
of the shooting. He
regrets at what had
information which
‘ious rifleman.
da .22-caliber slug
same time surgeons
iliber slug from the
on of the two slugs
elt’ sure about—they
copper-jacketed; both
d. “The same person
ame person fired the
re.”
yake sense.”
Mr. and Mrs. Lloyd Walter, who had a narrow escape. They were
shot at by the phantom gunman buat the bullet hit wall between them.
The officers were not even sure that it was a man they wanted.
But two things pointed to the probability that the crimes were
the work of a man. One was the use of a rifle by someone
who obviously was a fairly good shot, if not an expert. Women
rarely use guns for their murders, and hardly ever use a rifle.
The other was the fact that both victims who had been struck—
Mrs. Kruetzer, who would probably live, and Mrs. Bice, who
died instantly—were women. It might be assumed that Mrs.
Walter was the intended victim in the other case, and that her
husband just happened to be sitting near her.
It was sound-enough reasoning, possible and even probable, but
of course far from a certainty.
“Concentrate on twenty-two rifles,” Bowers instructed his men.
“It's the one thing we know for sure.”
When Leon Bice learned that Mrs. Bice had been killed by a
.22-caliber gun, he promptly took his’ own .22 rifle to the
Sheriff's Office. Although they were already certain that no
suspicion could be cast upon Bice, they sent his rifle to the
Crime Lab for check.
For the next few days Ballistics Expert George Lacey was
kept constantly busy checking rifles turned up by officers through-
out the Los Ahgeles area.
While these investigations were going on, Bowers had detec-
tives digging into the background of each of the victims in the
hopes of discovering some clue to a motive for the mysterious
shootings. He had them also seeking any shred of information
which would link the three cases together—anything which might
explain why the same person fired .22 slugs at these particular
people.
Still other officers set about the task of checking into the
movements of known or suspected characters who bordered on
the strange, the weird.
The officers didn’t disregard the possibility that the shooting
could have been the work of some smart-
alecky type of kid, someone showing-off
in a grisly sort of way. The fact that a
.22 caliber gun had been used suggested
a young person, since that caliber of
gun is the one most used by youth. A
mature person, particularly one experi-
enced with firearms as this one seemed
to be, was more apt to use a_heavier-
calibered weapon. .
For weeks the officers checked, probed,
sought for any little clue. They turned
up many possible leads, but not a single
one of them worked out. The phantom
killer had struck once, twice, three times
and vanished. ‘ :
During these same weeks the caller
who was never there continued to ring
the phone in the home of Mrs. Hiles.
Two or three times a week, usually in
the evening after her husband had gone
to work, the phone would ring and Mrs.
Hiles would say, “Hello,” only to hear
the line go dead.
For a while it worried the pretty house-
wife. Then it became a joke. “Whoever
that is,” she laughed about it, “will forget
sometime:and answer. Then I'll know.”
SHORTLY after eight o'clock on Tues-
day morning, October 16th, 1951,
little Patricia Ellen Bryant, 10 years old,
stood in front of her house at 9400 East
Florence Boulevard, in Norwalk. She
had her books in her arm as she waited
for the school bus to come.
Suddenly the child dropped her books
as she felt a terrible sting in her left el-
bow. She looked, and there was blood.
Rushed to a hospital by her father,
a doctor himself, the little girl was found
to be not fatally wounded.
Again the phantom had struck. And
again the. officers could find no clues, except a .22-caliber slug.
Although it had happened in broad daylight on a busy boule-
vard, no one had seen nor heard anything.
It was just one more knot in the growing puzzle of the unseen
person with a deadly .22 rifle. It was all the more puzzling
because this time the victim had been an innocent school-bound
child.
“We know for sure now,” Captain Bowers reasoned, “that it’s
a maniac. Somebody is shooting just anyone for the thrill of it.”
And that same evening Mrs. Hiles’ mysterious caller tele-
phoned twice and, as usual, spoke never a word over the wire
but hung up when the young housewife answered.
OVEMBER 22nd, 1951—a Thursday—was a warm day in
that section of California, and at 9:30 in the morning Mrs.
Irma Megrdle was working in her garden in the rear of her
home at 8627 Millergrove Avenue, in Rivera, only a few blocks
from where Mrs. Kruetzer was still recuperating from the ef-
fects of the slug which had lodged in her lung.
Mrs. Megrdle had never met Mrs. Kruetzer, but she had read
about her experiences, and the other strikes of the unseen rifle
expert, in her newspapers. In fact the growing mystery was a
common topic of conversation, particularly among women.
As Mrs. Megrdle raked the freshly turned soil she suddenly
felt a sting in her thigh. Almost involuntarily she slapped at
her thigh, thinking it was a bee. But the sting was too great for
a bee. She reached for the hem of her dress, and then modestly
looked around. There was no one who could see her. She raised
her dress and found blood on her thigh oozing from a small
hole.
Doctors at the hospital removed a .22-caliber slug from Mrs.
Megrdle’s thigh. It was one more slug to join the others collect-
ing in the Crime Lab. But that was the (Continued on page 39)
7
=
=%
=
=
Terror gripped Los Angeles as
seven women became the
Phantom Sniper's human targets
Lois Kreutzer's telephone
call to get a doctor for
her son brought about her
own nearly fatal shooting
Weapon with which alleged
suspect hunted thrills by
taking shots at women is
demonstrated by him for
Detective Sergeants Price
(c.) and J. W. Lippincott
Ul
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¥e-
BY M. K. ARNOLD
B*: FOR A’ LADY exercising the privilege of chang-
ing her mind, the Phantom Sniper of Norwalk, Cali-
fornia, might be prowling the darkened streets this
very night, his eyes burning with a weird lust and his
22 rifle cradled in his arms. It is still hard to believe that
such a monster exists, but there is no denying the strange
terror that’ began to grip residents of Los Angeles suburbs
late this summer.
In the early morning gray, on August 27th, 1951, Mrs. Lois
May Kreutzer, an attractive housewife, dashed out of her
home and entered the telephone pay. station at Passons
Boulevard and Rivera Road, an intersection on the eastern
outskirts of Los Angeles. Her face was drawn and anxious
as she called a doctor and asked him to help her ailing 7-
month-old boy. Fearing to leave the child alone too long,
she quickly hung up the receiver. As she backed out of the
booth, a sharp, sudden pain stung her in the side, just
above the waistline.
She returned to her home, but by the time the doctor
arrived the 21-year-old mother was in a serious condi-
tion. She was rushed by ambulance to a nearby hospital.
X-rays revealed that a .22 caliber rifle bullet had pene-
trated her liver and one kidney, lodging in the abdominal
cavity. An emergency operation was performed, but sur-
geons held out little hope for her recovery.
An immediate police investigation failed to turn up a
motivation for the shooting. With nothing else to go on,
authorities were left with only the presumption that some
youthful prankster, firing at a street light, had hit her with
a stray bullet.
The following evening, while the shadow of death
hovered over the Kreutzer household, Mr. and Mrs, Lloyd
Walter sat in the living room of thelr home in nearby
Norwalk. The young couple’s conversation was suddenly
interrupted by a sharp report and the crash of splintering
glass. A bullet thumped into the wall, scant inches above
comely Mrs. Walter’s head. Her husband darted outside to
see if he could spot the source of the shot, while Mrs.
Walter, badly shaken, called the police. Lloyd Walter
found the street deserted. There was not an automobile or
a pedestrian in sight.
When news of this second attack also reached the public,
a tense, uneasy atmosphere. descended upon the suburban
area. Sergeant Gilbert Leslie of the Norwalk sheriff’s
substation was assigned to the case. The bullet .dug out of
the wall in the Walter living room was tentatively identified
as a slug from a .22 caliber rifle. It was turned over to the
ballistics department at Los Angeles to be checked against
the bullet that had been removed from Mrs. Kreutzer.
Sergeant Leslie suspected that the shootings had been
done by one person. He began a check of known juvenile
delinquents in the section, as well as a canvass of sporting
goods stores, to determine if any .22 caliber ammunition
or guns had been purchased recently. Leslie also probed
deeply into the pasts of the two young housewives, on the
possibility that there was someone who might have had a
teason to shoot at both of them. :
~The youngsters questioned were able to clear themselves.
The sport shop leads petered out. Leslie could find no known
Bullet hole in window (arrow) lines up with head
of Mrs. Hiles, luckiest of marksman’s targets
Mystery shot took Mrs. Irma Megrdle from garden
to hospital bed. Husband, Edward, consoles her
ar
”
)
oe
4
ed
x
iw "
ali
40
a al
jawed Evan Thomas with several cans of
beer in his arms.
“Thought you'd like to have a can,”
he greeted her.
Mrs. Hiles wished to be courteous with
her neighbor. “Okay,” she said. “Come
on in.”
Thomas came in, and Mrs. Hiles waved
him toward the kitchen. “You open them.
‘This is & good picture. I don't: want to
miss it.”
While she returned to watching the
television, Thomas went into the kitchen,
and a little later came into the living
room and held out a can of beer to Mrs.
Hiles. .
“Thanks,” Mrs. Hiles said as she took
the beer without looking away from the
screen.
Thomas settled down on the divan with-
out saying anything.
Thomas and his wife lived two doors
down the street. The Thomases and the
Hiles were close friends. The women
visited during the day while their hus-
bands slept—Hiles worked the swing
shift, and Thomas worked as railroad
yard switchman from 11:30 P.M. to 7:30
A.M.
Mrs. Thomas often took her two chil-
dren to San Gabriel, where her parents
lived, to spend the night. This particular
night, Mrs. Hiles knew, Mrs. Thomas and
the children were in San Gabricl. Thomas,
as he had done before, had dropped over
to sit with her until time for him to go
to work. ,
Thomas, naturally a quiet sort of man,
had nothing to say, and they sat for
nearly two hours watching the television,
and hardly speaking a single word to cach
other.
A little after nine o'clock, Thomas
looked at his watch and stood up. “Better
be getting ready and highballing down
to work,” he, said.
Mrs. Hiles followed him to the door,
and closed and locked it after saying
goodnight. She went back to her place
on the divan and continued watching the
television.
Several minutes later, for some _ un-
known reason, Mrs. Hiles moved from
the divan to a chair. Then suddenly out
of the night there came a bullet crash-
ing through the window, and into the
wall above the ‘divan where she had been
sitting a few minutes before.
RS. HILES, like millions of people
in the Los Angeles area, knew from
newspaper and radio reports about the
phantom sniper, and in a flashing instant
she sensed what had happened. Even
as she screamed and dropped flat on the
floor, she knew that she had been marked
for death. :
Not daring to raise up, fearful of a
second slug, she crawled across the floor
to the telephone stand, reached up and
pulled. the instrument down.
“Operator! Operator!” she said as she
dialed “O.” “Operator, send the police!
Make it fast!”
When she had given the operator her
address, she pushed down the button on
the phone and then dialed the plant
where her husband worked.
“George,” she said. “George! Come
home right away! Somebody has tried to
kill me.”
As she hung the phone up, it rang. It
was ‘Thomas.
“You all right?” he asked. “I heard
a shot.”
“It was here,” she told him. “Through
the window.”
“PLL be right down,” Thomas said tensely.
Within a matter of minutes radio cars
from the Norwalk Substation were on the
scene. Quickly, efficiently, officers de-
ployed to cover the neighborhood. De-
tective cars followed in another few min-
utes. In them, among other officers, were
Detective Sergeants Richard Dailey and
Clifford Price, who had been working
as a full-time team on the cases.
Mrs. Hiles could tell the officers noth-
ing. Thomas could tell them nothing. He
had, he said, looked out from his house
when he héard the shot but he had seen
no ‘one, heard no running steps or a flee-
ing automobile. Again it was the same
story.
Dailey and Price examined the window
where the bullet had. entered. The slug
had cut through the lower frame ‘of the
screen. The angle at which it had passed
throughout where Mrs. Hiles had been sit-
- ting, indicated that it had been fired from
a low position.
Following the probable line of the
bullet, the detectives worked out from
the window and across the fresh, green
lawn toward the street. Near the side-
walk they found a cigarette butt.
“Get this!” Price snapped; as he touched
the butt and found it still slightly warm.
“Not completely out yet!”
“Must have been dropped by who-
ever fired the shot,” Dailey said. :
GEORGE HILES arrived home, and
Thomas, who was late in getting off
to his job, left. Captain Bowers and In-
spector Brown, who had been telephoned
at their homes, arrived on the scenc.
As scores of officers combed the whole
Norwalk area, the detectives questioned
neighbors and then they requestioned Mrs.
Hiles.
Recovering from her shock, and re-
assured by the presence of her husband,
Mrs. Hiles went over detail by detail
everything which had happened during
‘the day. But the only thing she could
think of which might possibly tie in with
the shooting was the long serics of strange
telephone calls she had been receiving
for months.
The officers were not sure, just then,
that. the calls were connected.” But when
Mrs. Hiles related again that she and
Thomas had sat for nearly two hours
watching television, the all-important clue
suddenly stood out.
Without explaining why, Bowers wanted
to know. who Thomas was, where he had
gone, where he worked, and everything
else about Evan Charles Thomas.
Since it was not known exactly where
Thomas worked, Price and Dailey sat at
the house two doors down until after
nine o'clock the next morning. Then
Thomas drove up to the house with his
wife and their two children.
Thomas readily ‘agreed to go to the
Norwalk Substation when the officers
explained: they would like him to make
out a statement. But after preliminary
questioning, the officers suddenly con-
fronted him with their one fact.
“The person who fired that shot in-
tended to kill Mrs, Hiles,” Price told
him.
“He fired it from outside the house
and through a heavily draped window,”
Dailey pointed out. “He couldn’t see her.”
“So he had to know exactly where she
sat,” Price said.
“And only you, Thomas, knew that!”
Dailey accused him, “Want to tell us
about it?”
A little to their surprise, Thomas
grinned, and then said, “You fellows know
as much about it as I do. I admit I did
it, but I only wanted to scare her.”
Anxious to tell his strange story,
Thomas reeled out a_ confession which
many people found difficult to believe—
most of all the Hiles, his family, his
employers, his friends. He was the one
man that no one would ever suspect of
being capable of such crimes. Yet he
related details which only the man who
committed the crimes could know.
Later, Thomas proved his statement by
taking officers to each scene and show-
ing them exactly where he had been when
he fired the shots. And he took them to
a locker where he produced a Winchester
Model 67, single-shot .22-caliber rifle. It
still had in it the empty cartridge which
had contained tHe slug which he had
fired at Mrs. Hiles.
He had purchased it on August the
25th, two days before he first shot Mrs.
Kruetzer in the Rivera phone booth.
Except for Mrs. Hiles, Thomas said
he had never seen any of his victims
before he shot them. “I just picked them
at random,” he said.
He admitted that he had also made
the strange telephone calls to Mrs. Hiles.
“I guess I wanted to date her, but I
could never get up the courage to ask
her.”
As to why he jhad shot the women,
Thomas could only say, “I really didn’t
want to hurt them, I don’t know why I
wanted to do it, but it gave me a satis-
faction when I did.”
Only in psychology could the explana-
tion of ‘Thomas’ acts be found. Psychol-
ogists typed him as a fundamentally shy
man, but with strong sex drives. Be-
cause of something in his early life he
was afraid of women. He was always
afraid of being rebuffed by women, be-
ing refused the thing he desired most.
In_ his subconscious mind there raged
an insoluble problem—he wanted love
and sex, had to have them, yet he could
not bring himself to ‘approach women
for fear of being refused. As the inner
tensions mounted higher and higher a
solution came to him by the use of
symbols.
With his rifle and his bullet he could
have any woman. He could stand at a
distance—too far away for her to refuse
him, too far away for her to scorn him—
‘and have the woman of his choice. When
the bullet he directed entered the body
of the woman, the tensions inside him
were temporarily released.
Evan Charles Thomas was cool and
unruffled when he was arraigned in Muni-
cipal Court on the charges of one count
of: murder and seven counts of attempted
murder.
“P’m glad it’s over,” he said, “It’s been
bothering me terribly.”
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20
enemies of. Mrs. Kreutzer or Mrs. Walter, and the women
did not know each other or have mutual friends or ac-
quaintances. With nothing to link them together, Leslie
was unable to substantiate his theory that one person had
committed both shootings. He felt a growing apprehension,
however; an uneasy premonition of more violence to come.
The next evening, beautiful Nina Bice, a 25-year-old
divorcee and mother of three small children, finished work
at the Holy Cross Hospital Grill in East Los Angeles and
drove with a friend, William Hannah, to a small hamburger
stand on Atlantic Boulevard. They ordered, then chatted
light-heartedly as they ate their sandwiches. Nina broke
off in the middle of a sentence. Her coffee cup clattered
to the floor. Her sagging body toppled sideways against
Hannah. ;
Stunned, Hannah could da no more than lower her gently
to the floor, staring in wide-eyed amazement as blood
spurted from a bullet wound near Nina’s mouth. Other
patrons were numbed by the sudden shot out of the night.
Hannah reacted quickly and sprinted down an alley at
the rear of the lunchroom, hunting about for the sniper. He
saw no one., A steady stream of automobiles flowed north
and south on Atlantic Boulevard, but all parked cars in
the immediate area were empty.
Hannah ran back to the stand, where customers were
trying to stop the flow of blood. Frantically, Hannah tele-
phoned for an ambulance, but it arrived too late for Nina
Bice. Death, which had been circling about eastern Los
Angeles, had finally struck home.
The Los Angeles newspapers shouted the story of the
Phantom Sniper to an already jittery public. Under pres-
sure of a steadily mounting panic, Lieutenant Floyd
Rosenberg, in charge of the sheriff’s homicide detail in
Los Angeles, and Detective Sergeant Richard Dailey joined
Sergeant Leslie in the investigation.
The problem that confronted them seemed almost im-
possible to solve. No one had so much as glimpsed the
killer, nor was it known whether he had fired at his victims
from a moving car or from some hidden point of vantage.
William Hannah shows spot
where Nina Bice met death
to Dailey (/.) and Leslie,
detective sergeants who
investigated the killing
The fatal shooting of Mrs. Bice created a
public clamor for unknown sniper's arrest
‘None of the three women could be connected in any
manner, and there appeared to be neither rhyme nor reason
for. the series of attacks.
“We've got no identity, no clues, and no motivation,”
Rosenberg said. “It’s a blank wall.”
“There’s one possible motivation,” Leslie said, “although
it’s not one that we can be sure of. The three housewives
have just one thing in common—they're women, All rather
attractive, too. My hunch is that there’s a sex element
involved in this case. Not being a psychiatrist, I couldn’t
say what it is, but I do know that sex deviates generally
move from minor offenses to more serious ones.”
Acting on this suggestion, the detectives subjected scores
of men, arrested on charges of lewdness or indecency, to
intensive questioning in an attempt to tie one of them to
the mysterious sniper. Deputy sheriffs cruised the streets
within a 20-mile radius of the area where all three attacks
had occurred, searching hundreds of cars and questioning
as many suspicious-looking men. No links could be made
between the known sex offenders and the shootings; none
of the other leads proved worthwhile.
. With all normal methods of investigation closed to them,
the detectives could only wait and hope for a break in the
case. Meanwhile, tension and® fear continued to grow.
Civic. groups and high officials demanded action. But the
sniper remained silent for six weeks and the detectives
shows spot
met death
ind Leslie,
‘ants who
the killing
ice created a
sniper's arrest
ected in any
me nor reason
/ motivation,”
iid, “although
se housewives
en. All rather
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ones.”
ibjected scores
indecency, to
ne of them to
ed the streets
1 three attacks
id questioning
‘ould be made
hnootings; none
‘losed to them,
a break in the
ued to grow.
ction. But the
the detectives
88 Mig TREY
w
were unable to make headway in the investigation. Mrs.
Lois May Kreutzer made a. miraculous recovery and was
released from the hospital.
On the morning of October 16th, 10-year-old Patricia
Ellen Bryant stood on the sidewalk near her home on
East Florence Avenue in Downey. She hummed a little
tune as she waited for her school bus. A bullet whizzed
from nowhere, crashing into her right forearm und shatter-
ing the bone. The force of the impact knocked her down.
Screaming with pain, she jumped up and ran for her
parents, Dr. and Mrs. A. iL. Bryant. The sound of a speed-:
ing car thundered in the street, but neither the child nor
her mother was able to get a glimpse of it. The elusive
sniper had broken his silence.
Again a hue and cry went up from alarmed citizens in the’
Los Angeles. area. The sniper had changed his human tar-
gets. Now not even little girls were safe on the streets.
Rosenberg, Leslie and Dailey grimly bent to work on their
seemingly hopeless case. Examination of the bullet that had
struck the girl disclosed that it was a .22. Markings proved
it was fired from a rifle. Questioning the Bryants brought
little new information. The parents could think of no one
who would have any reason to shoot their young daughter.
And the wounded girl could furnish no description of the
car or the sniper.
“We've got to get this fellow before he kills someone
again,” Rosenberg said. But he knew they had nothing to
go on. They still were unable to anticipate the sniper’s
moves. Some of the victims had been shot during the day-
time, some at night, and each apparently was fired upon
without reason. The officers could only continue their policy
of shaking down all questionable-looking men and grilling
those arrested on other charges. The next five weeks passed
slowly for the puzzled detectives. Then, just before the
holidays, the phantom sniper put his .22 back into action.
On November 22nd, Mrs. Irma Megrdle, a 40-year-old
housewife, was working in the garden of her home on
Millergrove Avenue, Rivera. There was a quick, spiteful
snap of a light-caliber rifle. Mrs. Megrdle staggered as a
School bus came too late to save
Pat Bryant, 10, whose right elbow
was shattered by mysterious shot
Shrewd questioning by Lieutenant
Floyd Rosenberg broke down killer
bullet ploughed into her thigh. Painfully but not critically
wounded, she ran to the front yard. She braved a second
bullet, looking in all directions for the sniper but, as in
previous attacks, he had made a.clean escape. Detectives
later determined that the shot had,been fired from an
orange grove across the strect from the Megrdle residence.
Again niper had used phantom-like tactics, leaving
behind hing but the .22 slug in his victim’s leg.
On December 26th another housewife, Mrs. Audrey:
Murdock, was felled by a bullet through her hip as she
stood at the ironing board in the kitchen of her home in.
Garvey. Once more the sniper had disappeared.
Rosenberg became convinced that the man they wanted
lived in the eastern section of the county. All the attacks
had occurred in communities in this.area: Rivera, Norwalk,
Downey, Garvey and East Los Angeles. And after each
shooting the phantom had to have some nearby place in
which to hole up quickly.
The frustrated investigators were convinced beyond a
doubt that the elusive sniper was one of those rare in-
dividuals who experience a physical thrill in inflicting pain
or death upon members of the opposite sex. But what were
the characteristics of such a man? Any male walking the
street might be their quarry. There seemed no way for
the detectives to pierce the sniper’s thin veneer of civility,
or to expose him. During the four months that followed,
Leslie, Rosenberg, and Dailey plugged away at the problem.
They were unable to turn up a good lead. The story moved
off the front pages, and public pressure lessened.
‘On the night of April 15th, 1952, lovely Joan Frances
Hiles, 22, of Los Nietos—another residential section in the
eastern Los’ Angeles suburbs—sat on the davenport of her
living room enjoying a television comedy show. George
Hiles, her young husband, was at work. Her 4%-year-
old son, David, slept in an adjoining room. With Mrs.
Hiles was a neighbor, Evan Thomas, who occasionally
dropped in to watch television shows. The comedy ended
at 10 o’clock and Thomas left for his job.
When the door had closed behind (Continued on page 75)
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They examined
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It’s a Thrill
to Kill a Woman
(Continued from page 21)
him, Mrs. Hiles went to see that her sleep-
ing son was comfortable. She then returned
to the living room to watch another pro-
Kram, The room was warm and Mrs, Hiles
felt snugly secure an she curled up ino an
overstuffed chair. The draperies were
drawn and George would be home shortly
after midnight.
The television announcer had just com-
pleted his opening commercial when Mrs.
Hiles heard a ping, a clatter of glass striking
her floor, and a thud as something struck
the opposite wall, Paralyzed with fear, she
sat still for a moment. Then she crawled
on hands and knees to the telephone and
dialed the number of the machine-shop
where her husband worked as foreman,
“George,” she said excitedly when he
answered, “someone just tried to kill me!
A bullet was fired through our living-
room window.”
It took a few seconds for young Hiles to
find his voice. “Call the sherziff’s office right
away, honey. I'll be home as fast as I can
Het there.”
Minutes later Deputies J. R. Wagnon and
T. B. Keeney drove up in Radio Car No. 47.
They listened closely to Mrs. Hiles’ almost
hysterical account of the incident.
“Looks like the phantom sniper is at work
again,” Keeney commented. “We'll have to
notify homicide.”
Informed by the radio car patrolmen of
this latest attempted murder, Lieutenant
Bert Parsonson, commander of the Uni-
form Detail at Norwalk Station, accom-
panied by Detective Sergeant Clifford
Price, called on Mrs. Hiles shortly after-
ward. Her husband had arrived and was
obviously shaken by the near-tragedy.
She repeated the same story she had told
Waxgnon and Keeney, adding, “If I hadn't
moved from the davenport, I'd be dead
now. That's where I always sit when watch-
ing TV programs.”
“Had any trouble with anybody lately?”
Parsonson asked.
“None. My husband and I, we have no
enemies that I know of.”
“Maybe someone was gunning for your
husband?”
“Everybody who knows us is aware of
the fact that George doesn't get home until
after midnight. I can't understand it.”
Mrs. Hiles was close to tears, “Evan and
I had enjoyed the programs so much.”
“Who is Evan?”
“Evan Thomas. He lives two doors down
from us. His wife is away visiting her
mother. He came over to see the shows
with me, so he wouldn't fall asleep and
miss work. He lives two doors away and
our families have been friends for a
couple of years.”
“You think he saw anything?” Parson-
son asked.
“I don’t think so,” Mrs. Hiles answered.
“After I finished phoning George and your
office, he called to ask if I was all right.
He said he'd heard a shot fired. I asked
him to come over and wait with me till the
officers arrived,”
“And did he?” Price inquired.
“Yes. But he works the midnight to
morning shift, so he could stay only a few
minutes. He had to leave just before the
officers came.”
“No doubt the sniper who tried to shoot
you tonight ix the same man who's been
taking pot shots at people out here for the
past eight months,” Parsonson stated. “But
you take it easy and don’t worry. We'll
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hho falhing with you about this later”
Notified at his home of the sniper's latest
attempt, Lieutenant Rosenberg dressed hur-
riedly and with Sergeant Dailey drove to
Ion Nictos, arriving at the Hiles residence
at 1:30 a.m.
They asked the distraught young woman
to accompany them to the Norwalk station
so that an official statement might be
taken. Mrs. Hiles had little to add to her
original story, other than to say that
several times during the past year she
had been annoyed by an anonymous tele-
phone caller. She would answer the ring,
only to be greeted by a dead silence.
“I could tell that the line was open and
somebody was listening, but when I said
hello there was no response. And the
calls always came late in the evenings
when I was here alone except for my
little boy.”
“Now, tell us once more just exactly
what happened this evening. Don’t omit
anything,” Rosenberg requested.
“At about 7:30 Evan phoned and said
his wife and the two children were away
visiting in San Gabriel,” Mrs. Hiles said.
“He asked if he could come over and kill a
couple of hours at my house. Naturally, I
said yes. I doubt if we exchanged twenty
words all the time he was here. At about
ten o’clock he said he must go or he’d be
late for work. I was on the davenport then.
“After he left I looked in at the baby,
then sat down in the big overstuffed chair
to watch another program. In about ten
minutes the bullet came tearing through
the window. It scared me almost to death,
but I finally came to my senses and called
George. He said to notify you people.
After I did that, Evan phoned to ask if I
was all right.”
“This neighbor, Evan, as you call him,”
Rosenberg said, “has he ever asked you
for a date, or anything?”
“Never. He’s always acted like a gentle-
man and has never made a pass at me,
verbally or otherwise,” she stated.
“Okay. That’s what we wanted to know.”
When Mrs. Hiles had been safely re-
turned to her home, the three detectives
went into a huddle.
“Leslie’s been working on this case for
months,” Rosenberg said, “and to date
every lead has fizzled. We've got to find a
new one before the sniper strikes again.”
Dailey’s round face wore a_ worried
frown. “I guess we'd better go over to
where Evan Thomas works and see if he
might have heard something that would
give us a lead.”
They drove to the Los Angeles Junc-
tion Railway in Vernon, where Mrs. Hiles
had told them Evan Thomas was em-
ployed. The three men located the tall,
rather heavily-built fellow without trouble.
IIe told them that he had heard what
sounded like a blowout coming from the
street in front of the Hiles residence.
Seeing no cars in the street, and remem-
bering about the phantom sniper, ho had
called Mrs. Hiles to see if she was all
right. He had then gone over to keep her
company until the police arrived.
Disappointed, the detectives returned to
the Hiles home where local police had been
making a search. The bullet taken from
the wall was a .22..An officer handed Dailey
a cigarette stub he had found on the lawn.
“It was still warm,” he said. “The sniper
must have stood here, smoking, and then
tossed the butt away after he fired.”
This was the first tangible clue they had
uncovered, and while in itself it did not
seem to promise much, the detectives felt
somewhat heartened. It was a sign of
carelessness, and a careless killer could
be caught. They drove to the Norwalk
substation and called it a night. Early the
next morning, Rosenberg met Dailey and
Leslie on the substation steps.
“We sent that cigarette butt to the labor-
atory in Los Angeles,” Dailey said.
“I’m thinking of something more interest-
ing than the cigarette,” Rosenberg said.
“The drawn draperies in the Hiles apart-
ment. Whoever fired that shot was some-
one who knew that Mrs. Hiles usually sat
on the sofa to watch television. And they
also knew the location of the sofa well
enough to shoot blind, through the drap-
eries, in an effort to kill her.”
“We've been considering that,” Leslie
remarked. “But a dozen people probably
would have that information.”
“Only the sniper knew that Mrs. Hiles
was watching television at that precise
instant,” Rosenberg sald.
“Thomas,” Dailey mused.
“Put yourself in the sniper’s shoes,”
Rosenberg said. “If your theory about mur-
der for a thrill is correct, Leslie, what
would you do, as a sniper who had taken
a blind shot, to determine whether or not
Mrs. Hiles was dead?”
“I could go back to check, but that would
be risky,” Leslie said. “Or I could phone,
and if she didn’t answer, I'd know.”
“Thomas phoned,” Dailey broke in. “Let’s
talk to him again.”
At 9 o’clock Evan Thomas opened the
door to admit Dailey and Price. He was
wearing pajamas. “Just getting ready to
turn in,” he said.
“Lieutenant Rosenberg would like to see
you at the station,” Price said mildly.
“We're still working on that shooting and,
since you seem to be the only person be-
sides Mrs. Hiles who heard the shot, he
wants to ask you a few questions.”
Thomas blinked sleepily. “Well, all right.
I hope it won't take too long.”
Within half an hour the suspect was
seated at a table, facing the three officers.
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His fyll name, he said, was Evan Charles
Thomas. He gave his age as 28. He had
spent almost four years as a private in
the Alr Force and had been honorably dis-
charged.
“Guess you had some good times in the
service. Soldiers always manage to meet
nice girls,” Rosenberg said, smiling and
leaning back in his seat. He handed Thomas
a cigarette. In an unofficial and confiding
tone, he said, “This Joan Hiles, now, she’s
my idea of a cute number.”
“Yes,” Thomas said, grinning. “I've had
my eye on her for some time, but I never
made any headway.”
Rosenberg’s chuckle lessened the severity
of Price’s question, “Don’t you have a
happy home life?”
’ “Oh, sure, I guess I do,” Thomas replied.
“Is your wife away a good deal?”
Thomas pondered the question. “She
takes the kids and goes to visit her parents
in San Gabriel now and then, but only stays
a day or two.”
He was asked whether or not he was on
friendly terms with George Hiles.
“Sure, why not? He’s always treated me
all right.”
Dailey, taking a long chance, said evenly,
“You’re the guy who’s been calling Joan
Hiles on the telephone and not saying any-
thing when she answers, aren’t you?”
Thomas chewed this over in his mind for
a few moments. “Yeah, I've called her a
few times.”
“What’s the idea? Why didn’t you say
who you were?”
The big man stared at his scuffed shoes.
“Lost my nerve, I guess. But I got a kick
out of calling her, anyway.” :
The trio of detectives carefully avoided
mecting cach other's eyes. There was an
electric tension in the room, for they sensed
that the long-awaited break was close.
Dailey lost no time in pursuing his ad-
vantage. “If you think Joan is such a nice
girl, why did you take a shot at her?”
The question caught the lumbering sus-
pect off guard. He said, “I guess I just
wanted to scare her.”
With difficulty Rosenberg and his aides
refrained from showing the excitement
they felt at this unexpected revelation.
“You did, eh? And is that why you shot
all those other women? Is that why you
killed Nina Marie Bice?”
Thomas seemed to wilt. He hung his head.
Finally he looked up.
“It’s like this. That night, last August,
my wife was away and I felt sort of at
loose ends. I started cruising around and
I drove past this little coffee-stand and
saw this girl sitting there. She was nice and
slender, and I sort of wanted a date with
her, if you know what I mean.” He looked
strangely exhilarated as he said that. “So
I stopped, parked my car in the alley and
fired through the window.
“She had the cup of coffee to her face.
I aimed at it, hyping to knock the cup out
of her hand, but I hit her in the head.
When I found out I'd killed her, I didn't
know what to think. But when I shoot at
women, I get a thrill out of it.”
Once his tongue was unleashed, he
seemed willing, even anxious, to continue
talking. Without batting an eyelash he ad-
mitted all of the other shootings, the
motive In cach Instance being the thrill
“When and where did you buy the rifle?”
Price asked.
He said he had purchased it in Wilmar
three days before he shot and wounded
Mrs. Lois May Kreutzer, his first victim.
After each shooting, he hid the rifle be-
neath the back seat of his car.
“Where is it now?” Rosenberg demanded.
“I'll take you to it. Last night, after firing
at Joan, I drove to the freight yard where
I work as a switchman. It’s in my locker
out there. And,” he added proudly, “it’s
Par
a good higi
Asked w
quainted
he'd s
name;
at the
“Why aia
girl?” Rose:
“I just wz
200 feet dov
stuck the gu
and fired on
drove past ;
With refe
Audrey Mu:
to me. Her }
in the inter
drove away. «
Ordered t
he sent a bu
window, he
house betwe
up onto the p
stepped out «
distance of a
“Did you -
be sitting on
left her? Is
bullet where
Thomas ma
On the follo
accompanied
eastern = sectic
out the exact
seven shootin;
Without coach
vestigators.
€
Whod
The followin
Grant to solve
1. Marsha’s {
ground,
2. The
3. The ,
near
4. The womar
the towel.
racket.
5. The pair o
Marsha.
6. The other f
8round besi.
7. The raincoa:
8. The telegran
SOLUTION: The a
but Marsha’s in,
until he touched
the net, and the
and other artich
the towel. All y
had been Placed
tion of the rainfa]
and the articles uy
reach of Marsha,
and that portion ¢
footprints at all!
get on the net?
who put them the
footprints? There
ference. Such foot;
somchow, and oby
00d reason to ren
would eliminate tr
that person on the
and would presen
suicide. But how
move the footprin
roller, Grant reali:
been worked. Th.
¢ ‘van Charles
28. He had
. private in
norably dis-
times in the
ige to meet
smiling and
ided Thomas
nd confiding
4 now, she's
1. “I've had
but I never
the severity
you have a
mas replied.
deal?”
tion. “She
her parents
ut only stays
t he was on
les.
: treated me
said evenly,
calling Joan
saying any-
‘t you?”
his mind for
called her a
~"* ~ou say
| shoes.
~-- @ kick
illy avoided
ere was an
they sensed
as close.
1ing his ad-
such a nice
at her?”
bering sus-
ruess I just
id his aides
excitement
:velation.
hy you shot
at why you
ang his head.
last August,
It sort of at
around and
e-stand and
was nice and
a date with
*” He looked
id that. “So
1e alley and
to her face.
the cup out
n the head.
ier, I didn't
1 I shoot at
leashed, he
to continue
elash he ad-
rotings, the
che thrill
iy the rifle?”
t in Wilmar
id wounded
first victim.
lle be-
nanded.
, after firing
yard where
1omy locker
- roudly, “it's
nt de
a good high-powered bolt-action gun, too.”
Asked whether he was Personally ac-
quainted with any of the other women
he'd shot, he replied, “I can't tell you their
names, but I can show you where I shot
at them.”
“Why did you pick on the little Bryant
sirl?” Rosenberg asked.
“I just wanted to scare her. I was about
200 feet down the road. I leaned over and
stuck the gun out of the window of the car
and fired once. I made a quick U-turn and
drove past as she slumped over.”
With reference to the shooting of Mrs.
Audrey Murdock, he said, “She appealed
to me. Her back was toward me. I stopped
in the intersection and fired once, then
drove away. It gave me a kick.”
Ordered to describe his position when
he sent a bullet through Joan Hiles’ front
window, he replied, “There’s a vacant
house between our two Places. I walked
up onto the porch of this vacant house, then
stepped out on the lawn and fired from a
distunce of about thirty-five feet.”
“Did you think Mrs. Hiles would still
be sitting on the davenport where you'd
left her? Is that why you aimed your
bullet where you did?”
Thomas made no answer,
On the following day the confessed slayer
accompanied the oMeers on a tour of the
eastern section of the county, pointing
out the exact places where each of the
seven shootings had occurred. This he did
without coaching or prompting by the in-
vestigzators.
From his cell Thomas spoke briefly to
newspapermen. “After I’d shoot a wom-
an who appealed to me, to satisfy myself,
I'd become morbid and start drinking. I’d
stay drunk until the urge .got me again.
Then I’d pick out a girl at random and
shoot her.”
Arraigned before Municipal Court J udge
F. Ray Bennett on charges of murder and
7 counts of assault with a deadly weapon,
his preliminary hearing was held on April
25th. Having declared himself without
funds vith which to employ an attorney,
he was represented by Deputy Public De-
fender Henry Langendortf.
After all the living victims had testified,
George W. Lacy, ballistics expert, took the
stand ard said that five recovered bullets
were still undergoing tests, However, he
called attention to certain markings on
some of them which corresponded to mark-
ings in the barrel of Thomas’ Winchester
rifle. Throughout the hearing Thomas,
who did not testify, sat with his hand to
his chin, utterly stolid and indifferent.
On March 15th Evan Thomas pleaded
Zuilty to one count of murder and five
counts of assault with a deadly weapon be-
fore Judge Philip H. Richards. The murder
charge may be for first or second-degree
murder, This will be determined by Judge
Richards, But whatever the court's decision
in this respect, whatever the outcome of the
trial, it appears certain that the phantom
sniper will never again prowl the strects of
a peaceful community, shooting at women
whose only crime is their attractiveness.
Whodunit?
(SOLUTION TO PAGE 58)
The following clues enabled Licutenant
Grant to solve the bizarre case:
1. Marsha's footprints on the rain-wet
ground,
2. The absence of any other footprints.
3. The dry towel hanging over the net,
near center of court.
4. The woman's sweater, also dry, near
the towel. The tennis balls, the tennis
racket.
5. The pair of harlequin sunglasses on
Marsha.
6. The other feminine sunglasses on the
ground beside Marsha. :
7. The raincoat draped on net post.
8. The telegram received by Marsha.
SoLuTion: The absence of any footprints
but Marsha’s indicated suicide to Grant
until he touched the towel hanging over
the net, and the can of balls, the racket,
and other articles on the ground under
the towel. All were dry. Obviously they
had been placed there after the termina-
tion of the rainfall at 3 o'clock. The towel
and the articles under it were beyond the
reach of Marsha, yet between her body
and that portion of the net there were no
footprints at all! How then did the articles
get on the net? Why hadn't the person
who put them there after the shower left
footprints? There could be only one in-
ference. Such footprints had been removed
somehow, and obviously by a person with
good reason to remove them—the killer! It
would eliminate traces of the presence of
that person on the court after the shower,
and would present Marsha’s death as a
suicide. But how was it possible to re-
move the footprints? Noting the court
roller, Grant realized how the trick had
worked,
heen The Willer diac umed the
roller to erase the tell-tale impressions.
Moreover, by dragging the roller behind
him or her, instead of pushing it, the
killer would remove even the fresh prints
made _ while hauling the roller off the
court. In forgetting to remove the dry
items from the net before eradicating the
imprints, the killer made the mistake
which revealed to Grant that murder had
been committed.
But who was that killer? Curtis Brady,
Alice Simmons and Phil Vernon all had
motives and none had alibis. Alice claimed
that Marsha had committed suicide be-
cause she had been disqualified as an ama-
teur. Alice made this statement before
Grant found the telegram in Marsha’s
pocket—a telegram which had been de-
livered at a few minutes past three, after
the shower, while Marsha was on her way
to the court. How could Alice have known
about the disqualification unless Marsha
told her? Obviously Marsha and Alice had
been together after the receipt of the tele-
gram and shortly before the murder.
Other evidence pointed to Alice. Marsha
would not have need for more than one
pair of sunglasses. To whom did the other
glasses belong? Manifestly another woman
had been on the court. Additional evidence
was the raincoat—a woman’s coat. Marsha,
who lived on the estate, had no need for
the raincoat, since the shower was over
and the sun out.
When Lieutenant Grant confronted Alice
Simmons with the evidence, the girl quick-
ly broke down and confessed. She had
come to the court early to thrash out with
Marsha their difficulties over Phil. There
was a quarrel and Alice stabbed Marsha
with the ice pick. Frantically she tried to
obliterate all traces of her presence by
using the roller to erase her footprints.
Then, hurrying back to her home, she was
in time to greet Phil when he arrived to
pick her up. The ice pick was a tool used
on the court. Attached to a length of
string, Marsha had used it as a pin to stick
in the ground) when atralyhtontog the
bane Hnes of the court,
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IT was dark on the night of
August 27, 1951, in Rivera, Cali-
fornia, a suburb of Los Angeles. At
the corner of Passons and Rivera
Boulevards a young woman was
standing in a glass enclosed phone ~
booth when suddenly there was the
sharp crack of a rifle. The woman
screamed and clutched her chest. A
slow red stain could be seen spread-
ing under her fingers as she. lean-
ed weakly against the side of the
booth. There was a small, round
hole in the glass of the door.
The figure of a man was seen
racing to a car from a nearby
grove of avocado trees. He jumped
into the car.and drove away. Just
then the woman managed to open
the door of the phone booth and cry
out. -
She was heard by a woman who
lived in a house half a block away
on Rivera Boulevard. The woman,
10
Mrs. Nettie Sommervell, told her
husband about the cry and they
Loth went to investigate.
They saw the woman lying on the
ground half out of the phone booth,
blood spurting from her chest. The
receiver in the phone booth was
hanging limply and an_ insistent
buzzing came from the ear piece.
Mr. Somervell picked it- up, esta-
blished a connection, and called the
police.
The woman was rushed to the
hospital, where it was discovered
that she had been shot. The wound
-was serious, but not fatal. She was
identified as Mrs. Lois May
Kreutzer, 21, who had been using
the booth to telephone a doctor for
her sick child. She had‘no idea who
could have: shot her and could at-
tribute no motive to the crime. The
police were without clues.
A man had been seen by Mrs.
SEP [oet- (45°
a
Body of Mrs. Bice lies near lunch counter of ham-
burger stand where bullet from mysterious sniper (be-
low) killed her.
~
Exelvs ive 22.reE DETECTIVE
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(os)
CASE FILE
Some recent cases brought you by
TRUE DETECTIVE had not finally been
disposed of when the issue went to
press. To keep our readers in-
formed, we will bring you in each
issue of TD a Case File report.
IT'S A THRILL TO KILL
A WOMAN
(August, 1952
In August, 1951, a quiet suburb of
Los Angeles was terrorized by an
unseen gunman. One woman was
slain and five others wounded be-
fore the assailant was captured. He
confessed he got a thrill from shoot-
ing women. A Superior Court jury
in Los Angeles, California, ruled on
July 7th, 1952, that the phantom
sniper, Evan Charles Thomas, must
die for the murder of Mrs. Nina
Marie Bice, 25-year-old mother of
three children. Although he had
been tried for the Bice murder only,
Thomas also confessed to wounding
five other women during his reign
of terror.
MURDER OVER THE
MICROPHONE
(July, 1952)
Cab driver Robert Clauss picked up
a passenger in the early hours of
an October evening. Somewhat later
the night dispatcher of the cab com-
pany heard Clauss’ voice over the
radio, “This guy has a gun at my
hack!”? When officers found the cab,
the driver was dead, but clever
sleuthing soon tracked down the
murderer. John Calvin Ruff entered
a plea of guilty to second-degree
murder in connection with the slay-
ing of Robert Clauss in Allentown,
Pennsylvania, last October 29th,
Judge Henninger sentenced him to
serve a term of 10 to 20 years in
Fostern State Penitentiary on June
24 h, 1952, and ordered him to pay
a fine of $500.
WHEN A COP PLAYS ROBBER
(July, 1952)
To track down a gang of Hollywood
robbers, Detective Sergeant Ray
Rorders posed as a criminal looking
for easy money, and became a mem-
ber of the gang. He succeeded in
foiling their plot, bringing them to
court, On June 10th, 1952, Judge
Harry J. Borde of Santa Monica, Cal-
ifornia, Superior Court, sentenced
three of the four men involved with
Robert Lord in the robberies per-
petrated to finance a fantastic gold-
hijacking plot. Glenn Arthur
Spaulding was sentenced to a term
of 1 to 10 years following his plea
of guilty to a charge of receiving
stolen property. David Edward Hut-
ton and Lee Edmond Mooré, who
had pleaded guilty to one count of
robbery, were given sentences of 10
years to life and 5 years to life, re-
spectively, Previously, on May 21st,
Robert Lord, the “brains” of the
gang, had pleaded guilty to receiv-
ing stolen property, and on June
16th he was sentenced to 1 to 10
years in state prison. The stolen
property charge against Fred Mar-
rato was dismissed.
DIAMONDS ON PARK AVENUE
(July, 1952)
Three juvenile crooks held up a
Park Avenue apartment in January,
1952, and made off with a fabulous
haul of jewelry, but they were not
smart enough to get away with it.
The three young men responsible
for the $114,000 jewel robbery of
dress designer Mollie Parnis were
sentenced to 10 to 20 years in pris-
on by New York City General Ses-
sions Judge Jonah J. Goldstein on
May 6th, 1952. The judge pointed
out that if the trio, Joseph Paladino,
Carmine Zoccolillo, and Joseph
Guidice, had chosen to cooperate
with the police on the recovery of
the missing pear-shaped diamond
ring worth about $30,000, he could
have given them lighter terms.
HITLER'S HENCHMAN
—1952 MODEL
(June, 1952)
Former Nazi official Fritz Roessler,
who masqueraded under the name
of Dr. Franz Richter and remarried
his wife to hide his Nazi past, was
sentenced to 18 months in jail in
Bonn, Germany, on May 2nd, 1952.
He had pleaded guilty to charges of
fraud and perjury. Last March he
had been sentenced to serve three
months and three weeks by a court
at Hildesheim for defaming officials
in campaign speeches.
THE BEAUTIFUL GUEST
(July, 1952)
One of the most absorbing cases of
recent date described the detective
work which led to the capiure and
conviction of criminals with a
strange share-the-wealth _ notion,
who had robbed a Reno millionaire.
Jeanne d’Are Michaud, self-admitted
engineer of the $1,500,000 burglary
of LaVerne Redfield’s safe in his
Reno, Nevada, home, was convicted
on a charge of interstate transpor-
tation of stolen property and sen-
tenced to five years in prison by
Federal Judge Robert Foley on
June 30th, 1952. Two other accom-
plices were also sentenced: Ben on
Henry Robinson, a ranch handy-
man, got four years, and Mrs. Leona
Mae Giordano, drew a year and a
day. Five others accused of partici-
pating in the crime await trial.
THE TERRIBLE MR.
SMITHWICK
(November, 1950)
On July 29th, 1949, William Ma-
son, a crusading radio repoiter, sat
in his parked car in Alice, Texas.
A bullet crashed into the car, killed
him. The murder was traced to a
former deputy sheriff, Sam Smith-
wick, who was tried, convicted and
sentenced to life imprisonment. On
April 16th of this year the former
sheriff decided to shorten his sen-
tence. He hanged himself in his
cell in the Texas State Penitentiary.
HIS SILENT WIFE
(September, 1952)
“From the day I married her, I
knew that someday I’°d_ kill her,”
William LaFramboise, carpenter, of
Sacramento, California, told detec-
tives who arrested him for the mur-
der of his wife, Mabel, whom he
confessed to strangling and burying
in a shallow grave, after driving
around for eight days with her holy
in his car. At his trial, however, in
the Sacramento County Superior
Court, he claimed no memory of the
murder, and testimony persuaded
the jurors that he had acted in s~'f-
defense. After deliberating an heur
and 10 minutes, they acquitted him.
payroll.
"I've taken all | can stand, I'm now taking the Friday
Your ex-accountant,
Louie.”
Com;
fora
home
ABO!
Ole
TH.
STAT!
Durir
ay
Kreutzer, but she could give no
adequate description of him and
said he did not look familiar. She
was not even certain that he was
the one who had fired at her. Bal-
listic experts had examined the slug
removed from Mrs. Kreutzer’s body
and stated that it came from a .22
caliber rifle. No weapon was found
near the scene of the shooting.
TWO days later, the mystery
took on a more serious and horrible
aspect. A woman was killed, and
the bullet in her body matched that
which had weunded Mrs. Kreutzer.
The circumstances of the murder
were weird and baffling. The victim,
Mrs. Nina Marie Bice, was a 25-
year-old divorcee, the mother of
three children. She had been sitting
clone at the counter in a hamburger
. stand near Atlantic and Olympic
Boulevards in Los Angeles.
As the attractive young woman
lifted a cup of coffee to her lips,
there was a strange zinging sound.
She remained seated for a moment
and .then toppled from the stool,
smashing the coffee cup in the
process.
The attendant at the counter
turned angrily, “Hey, what’s the
idea? Do you think .. .” Then he
looked at the woman on the floor.
Her eycs were wide open and there
was a small hole in the side of her
head. A little blood trickled out, but
not much.
The counter man’s face grew
pale and he rushed into the kitchen
and telephoned the police.
When the officers arrived at the
scene of the shooting, they found
that the woman was dead. The
bullet had passed through her
brain. A wallet in her purse gave
Mrs. Bice and her two-year-old son in a. snapshot taken just before
her death.
bullet entered, just missing her.
the necessary identification. At the
morgue a .22 caliber rifle bullet
was removed from the body and it
matched that in the Kreutzer shoot-
ing two days before.
Captain Vie England, head of the
Sheriff’s Homicide Detail was put
in charge of the case, but he had
very few leads to go on. Both
women had obviously been shot by
the same man, but there was no
connection between the two.
England investigated Mrs. Bice’s
divorced husband and found that he
had been out of town on the night
of the shooting and had an iron-
clad alibi with. witnesses. Besides,
no motive could be found for him
to have: killed his wife, and there
was no connection between him and
Mrs. Kreutzer.
A check of the backgrounds of
One of the mad sniper’s pretty victims points to hole in window where
the two women revealed that there
was no possibility of them having
been acquainted. By a strange co-
incidence it was learned that the
same cleaning woman had worked
for them at different times, but
this proved to have no connection
with the crimes.
Detective Sergeants Cliff Price
and Richard Dailey were working
on the case also, but by the middle
of October, they had come to the
conclusion that they were at a dead
end and that the case would never
be solved.
Then, on October 16, there was
a shooting in the nearby town of
Downey. A_ ten-year-old _ girl,
Patricia Ellen Bryant, was wound-
(Continued on Page 42)
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Mrs. Nina Marie Bice
IT'S A THRILL TO KILL. A WOMAN
(ID August, 1952)
Evan Charles Thomas, 30, died in the
gas chamber at San Quentin January
28th, 1953, for the murder of Nina Marie
Bice, fatally shot as she. sat’ at an out-
door hot dog stand in Los Angeles on
August 29th, 1951. During that year
six other women in the Los Angeles area
had been shot at by =the “phantom
sniper.” Three of them were severely
injured. :
When arrested, Thomas, a former air-
man, confessed. that all of the women
except one were unknown to him. “I
just picked out a girl at random,” he
said. “When I shot a woman, it gave
me a kick.”
Thomas had pleaded guilty to one
count of murder. and five counts of as-
sault with a. deadly weapon. His final
appeal agairist the death sentence was
turned down by Judge Michael J . Roche.
“HE'S THERE AND HE'LL
SHOOT ME"
(TD March, 1954)
Young insurance adjuster Andrew
Kmiec, 32, left his Beverly Hills apart-
ment on Saturday afternoon, November
21st, 1953, to meet in Los Angeles a
prospective purchaser for his convertible.
He took along with him.a young friend,
Dolly McCormick. The middle-aged
man whom they picked up at the Bilt-
more Hotel asked Kmiec to drive to his
home in Whittier to show his wife the
car. Ona lonely road the man sudden-
ly drew a gun, told Kmiec, “I’ve been
FILE
Report of latest legal developments
on cases published by TD
hired to kill you,” and fired three times.
Kmiec’s body was found in a clump of
bush by police led to the scene by the
terrified girl who had managed to. escape
the killer. The young man had been
shot through the face, the shoulder and
the heart.
“Detectives presently identified the
slayer as Anthony J. Zilbauer, 53, who_in
that same month had kidnaped, at-
tacked and robbed a woman who adver-
tised a fur coat for sale.
. At this trial Zilbauer was found guilty
of the attack on-the woman. The jury
recommended -life- imprisonment. The
same jury, four men and eight women,
found Zilbauer guilty of _first-degree
murder in the death of Andrew Kmiec,
with no recommendation of mercy. On
March 8th, 1954, Judge Clement Nye
sentenced him to die in the gas chamber.
CASE HISTORY OF A
HOMICIDAL MANIAC
(TD February, 1954)
On the night of October 3rd, 1953,
Marine Sergeant Marion L. Piper, 21,
crawled to the door of a lodge in the
Tehachapi Mountains north of Los An-
-geles. He was naked, bleeding from
gashes in his head and a bullet wound
in his chest. He said he had hitched a
ride in a Pontiac car. going toward Bak-
ersfield. Suddenly the driver slugged,
shot, robbed him and took his clothes.
Seven minutes later two State High-
way, patrolmen stopped a. Pontiac on-
U. S. Highway. 99. The car and the
driver, who proved to. be John Rich-
ard Jensen, 28, were stained with blood.
When Piper’s wallet, watch and ‘dog tags
were found in the car, Jensen admitted
the murderous assault.’
From the age of 11 Dickie Jensen had 4
a record of arrests and ternis in Juve-.
nile institutions. On August 22nd, 1939,
when he was 14, he stabbed to death
13-year-old Billy Williams. After ex-
tensive ‘examination Dickie was ad-
judged a psychopathic delinquent and
ordered confined in a state hospital.
In May, 1951, released as rehabili-
tated, Jensen returned to his family
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home, got a job with an automobile
parts firm. Apparently, however, his
murderous impulses persisted. After his
arrest for the attack on Sergeant Piper,
Jensen confessed to killing another
hitchhiker, Roger Lawson, in Ventura
County, September 13th, 1953.
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was sentenced on March 17th, under NAMB: « «sess ‘srhit’ b6°Sahe “siabiads
California’s “Little Lindbergh Law,” to ADDRESS,.........4 Bais © 60s, Wi o- oue wie of
die in the gas chamber. I CITY oe ORR vee STATE.....
/ L i oateneel otal ceed eae pone Dia aOR i eeiaal Saat
Aue Li lor Le< fr‘y SISA
at her husband. “I’ve: even .ac«
him of checking up on. meé, but. a
mystified as‘I am.” .
*nberg frowned thoughtfully and Af
othing. But later, back at head.
‘'s, he went into long consulta-
ith Sergeants Leslie and Dailey,
the situation. j
‘ve a hunch the break we've been ie
for has finally happened,” ihe | «
wly. This time the sniper. made :
ke. Two mistakes, in fact, Re-
__ ¢, it was sheer accident that M. oe
» wasn’t killed. She would rae i;
she’d been sitting in her usual
1 the davenport. Only, the would- 4
‘ couldn’t know that she wasn’
the drapes were drawn across;
dow. But he knew where’ she
.e sitting and took a chance on
being there!” :
aused and took a look at the Be!
‘pressions worn by his co-work-
the case and nodded briefly.
iderstand as well as I do what
ns—that the sniper was familiar
ry Krebs’ habits. Very familiar!
: more thing. Suppose you were
1 and ‘took a shot that was
n the dark and wanted to find
her it had found its mark or
vouldn’t be smart to run the
king a look in person, for then
it get caught in a tight spot. .
th explaining to do.”
one,” Sergeant Dailey cut
ly!” Rosenberg Snapped crisp-
if my guess is right, that’s ex.
it our man did. Let’s get him
. Tight now for a bit more
an hour later the man they
as sitting in Rosenberg’s Office,
blank as to his reason for be- ©
and quietly insisting that he
more about the shooting than
1e had already told.
senberg had a feeling he was
a role he had already care-
orized for just such a grilling.
the homicide chief switched
lid you call Mary so often
ot speak to her?” he demand-
knew where she was well
I just wanted to get her to
the man said. “No harm in
re?” :
ould have been harm enough
hat shot through the win-
berg pressed grimly.
1 looked back at him with
‘es and for all his husky
1ysical strength there seemed
tness about him.
lidn’t harm her,” he pro-
only thought was to frighten
3 nodded slowly as though
* atural thing and he under-
without warning his voice
‘ply, “But it didn’t turn out
th Nina Bice, did it? You
cident. I didn’t intend
\g at the cup in her
DETECTIVE CASES
_ Richards finally handed ‘down the sent-
--And then all at once, as though eager
to.cleanse his mind and conscience, he
was spilling out the. whole story—a
Story..that:-he,.seemed to ‘only vaguely
understand. himself. He. knew, only that
there: was an inner, driving impulse that
Jed him to shoot at women. Afterwards, :
in remorse and, self-disgust, he would
drink himself into a, state of: temporary.
forgetfulness... Then ».the . compulsion.
would:come again, and grow until it
would not be denied. ‘. 8
‘That was what had happened wi
Mary: Krebs... When: he left. her he had
gore-home, taken out his high-power
rifle,, returned to. a. spot outside. her:
living room window and fired. eae
.. Then -he had telephoned to earn, the
results of that,shot in: the dark....; =.
The’ next. day, Evan. Thomas drove
with. the. officers and. pointed. out..the
places. where. the . previous. shootings
had taken place, explaining where. he
had parked his car or hidden each time.
The lethal rifle was found in his -base-
ment. “ ’ i
Later he. was arraigned before Muni-
cipal Court’ Judge.R. Ray Bennett on
charges of murder and.seven counts of
-assault with a deadly weapon.
_It wasn’t until March 15th, 1953, tha’
he; was finally brought, to trial, at which
time he pleaded guilty, to one count of
murder and five counts. of. assault with.
a deadly weapon. Judge Philip. H.
ence—that ‘of death in the gas chamber.
'.A Series of..legal appeals. were dis-
allowed and the, thrill. sniper, whose
strange compulsion led to the death of
the unknowing and innocent. Nina Bice,
paid for.his strange sexual. titillations
with his own life in San Quentin’s death
-chamber, jaye |
Editor’s Note: The name Mary Krebs is
fictitious..
SHOOT-OUT
(Continued from page. 24)
white or tan-and-white Plymouths were —
questioned without any success.
One definite clue was turned up,
however, when. the crime lab found out
the two slugs taken from Noah Nichols’
body were identical to the bullet in the
saloon wall. They were .32 caliber
S. & W. cartridges and could have been
discharged by a Hopkins an@ Allen, or
a Harrington and Richardson, pistol.
Two more days passed and shortly
before midnight on Saturday Los An-
geles Policemen Harry Briggs and Will ;
Morrell: spotted a blacked-out 1956
Ford leaving a used car lot. They grew
suspicious as they knew the lot never
remained open that late for business.
There were two men in the car.
As the police drew up to question the .
men in the Ford without lights, the car
immediately spurted ahead. Taking out
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DESTINY LEAGUE
Herbert J. Phillips, who is also public
safety director, was addressing a meet-
ing of police reserves.
“I just saw Auld,” he said as he
walked into the meeting.
Phillips summoned Patrolman Harry
Norton and raced to the spot. Auld was
preparing to enter the tavern for a
drink when Norton, gun drawn, tapped
him on the shoulder.
“What the hell do you want?” he de-
manded angrily.
“Are you Howard Auld?” Norton de-
manded.
“No, my name’s George Jackson,”
the hulking giant snarled.
“Okay, Jackson. You’re coming with .
me,” said Norton.
They took him to Mt. Ephraim
borough police station, and when he
was searched he admitted that the
army discharge papers in his pocket,
bearing the name Howard Auld, were
his. Without loss of time, he was sped
to Camden for questioning by Detec-
tive Chief Doran.
For three hours he held out, denying
that he followed Rita McDade and over-
powered her. Finally, early Wednesday
morning, he broke. He admitted that he
overtook her near the pumping station,
and that when she resisted him his
mind “went blank.”
“You weren’t drunk, were you?” ask-
ed Doran.
“Naw, I wasn’t drunk. My mind just
went blank.”
Chief Doran and Prosecutor Mariano
announced next day that Auld had
signed a full confession. Only parts of
it were made public.
“Auld admitted he beat the young
woman with his fists when she started
screaming,” said Doran.
An hour later, he said, Auld threw
the girl over his shoulder, walked to the
cistern, and threw her down the open-
ing. The same day Auld accompanied
police officers to the spot where he had
thrown the girl’s purse and dress into
some briars. The articles were recov-
ered. :
Ope day later Prosecutor Mariano
asked the grand jury for a murder in-
dictment, which was returned.
Auld was held without bail until his
trial on March 6th, 1946. It took ten
days for the presentation of evidence,
and for the defense. At the end, a jury
called Howard Auld guilty in the sex
slaying of pretty Margaret McDade. He
was sentenced to die in the- electric
chair at State Penitentiary, located in
Trenton, New Jersey.
On March 28th, 1949, that duly pre-
scribed sentence was carried out. *
SNIPER HAD TO SHOOT WOMEN
(Continued from page 29)
that the dead girl, Nina Bice, was
young and attractive and a divorcee—
traditionally qualities that might easily
lead to romantic troubles—but her repu-
tation was spotless. Her ex-husband was
immediately ruled out as a suspect;
first because they had maintained friend-
ly relations after the divorce and sec-
ondly because it was quickly established
that he had been nowhere near the
vicinity of the crime at the time it
occurred.
By this time a post mortem had been
performed and the fatal bullet removed
from the head of the slain woman.
It was a .22.
More important, the ballistics bureau
reported that the slug had many similar
markings to the two recovered from the
. previous shootings although further,
more minute tests would be required to
establish beyond all doubt that the three
bullets had been fired from the same
weapon. :
The information was definite enough
for Lieutenant Rosenberg, however. To-
gether with Sergeant Dailey he called
in Sergeant Gilbert Leslie of the Nor-
walk sheriff's substation. The latter had
been working for the past two days on
the first shooting and the attempt on the
second woman’s life.
“We know that these three crimes are
tied up together, the work of one in-
dividual,” the head of the Los Angeles
sheriff's homicide detail pointed out.
“And frankly, that’s just about all we
know. The newspapers are yelling for a
quick solution, and an end to what they
call a reign of terror, but none of them
are advancing any bright suggestions
as to how to go about it. On top of
that, we haven’t any physical clues to
work on.”
“So what do we do?” Dailey asked.
68
OSENBERG sighed heavily as he
gave his answer. “We do the un-
spectacular things that never make good
headlines but are nine-tenths of effi-
cient police work. First of all we throw
out a city-wide dragnet and see what
we come up with. We concentrate on
two different groups. The shootings may
have been done by a juvenile, trigger-
happy and out for a thrill. -So we'll
round up every juvenile who has ever
been in trouble in the hopes of getting
a lead of some sort.
“That’s move number one. Next
comes the second group we want to
question. These three crimes are ap-
parently without any normal motive.
And that may well mean something—
the lack of a normal motive, and the
fact that each time it was a woman
who was the victim or the intended
victim. That would indicate that the
shootings could well have been the
work of a sex pervert, the type that only
gains satisfaction through excessive
brutality. We’ve had our share of such
cases before. Remember the Black
Dahlia unsolved murder case?
“I want the files checked through
for the past ten years and every sex
offender investigated. That will take
time and patience, but we’ve plenty
of both. After that there is only one
thing left to do.”
“What’s that?” Sergeant Leslie asked.
Lieutenant Rosenberg smiled thinly.
“Wait for a lucky break!” he said
tersely.
But in the end all that happened on
the credit side of the ledger was that
the first Victim of the phantom sniper
recovered from her near-fatal wound
and was released from the hospital.
Meantime detectives and probation au-
thorities had made an exhaustive case-
history study of every juvenile delin-
quent on record in the city and suburbs
and had spent endless hours in inter-
views and cross-checks. The results
were negative.
The same was true of the all-out in-
vestigation of every known sex. deviate
in the city and county.
During this same period dozens of
anonymous tips and well-meant leads
flooded headquarters and these, too, had
to be painstakingly run down.
Nothing. .
HEN, on October 16th, just as the
press and public were forgetting
the terror that marked the final days of
August, the mysterious sniper struck .
again. This time the victim was a pretty
little girl. She was waiting on the side-
walk near her home for the school bus
when a bullet smashed into her right
forearm, shattering the bone.
Again there were no clues, no eye-
witnesses to the crime.
Again it was a .22 slug that was -
recovered.
So the newspapers and civic groups
once more cried for speedy action. The
harassed detectives under Lieutenant
Rosenberg worked around the clock,
seeking some elusive clue where none
seemed to exist.
No further action came until Novem-
ber 22nd. That was when a 40-year-old
housewife was shot in the thigh while
working in her garden.
It was the same old, familiar story.
No clues—but a .22 slug that did the
trick.
Then, the day after Christmas, it
happened again. Another housewife
was standing at the ironing board in
her kitchen when she was suddenly
felled by a bullet in her hip.
A bullet fired from the same .22 .
caliber weapon used in the previous
snipings.
By then the phantom sniper had be-
come a major issue in local politics.
Citizens groups clamored for protec-
tion—radio commentators and news-
paper editorialists castigated the police
for laxity.
Pressured from all sides for action
DETECTIVE CASES
th sd
tarts he de As
Sa St ii nm 2 ati asl
cod
Lieutenant Rosenberg managed to re-
tain an outward calm. He was in almost
daily conference with Sergeants Leslie
and Dailey, studying the arrests of every
nature made the preceding day, search-
ing always for some tentative lead.
“This isn’t an ordinary series of re-
lated crimes,” he repeated to his top
aids. “If it were, we’d have a definite
pattern to help us. Every professional
_. criminal works according to habit and
oe eae aR
mat
Rapes ate ee
in so doing leaves his trade-mark be-
hind him. But the man we’re after now
is undoubtedly a sex pervert. He can—
and does—remain hidden while he com-
mits his crime. He doesn’t have to come
in contact with his chosen victim, and
in consequence none of those living
have been able to give us even a
“sketchy description. Right now the only
thing we can actually hope for is that
sooner or later he will grow careless
and make a mistake—the kind of mis-
take that will trap him.”
But for a while it looked as though
the secret sniper feared the same thing—
that if he continued he would make
some fateful error. At any rate, he
seemed to go into retirement. The first
three months of the new year passed
without any further attempts at mo-
tiveless slaughter. The public clamor
lessened and the tension of terror that
had gripped the city relaxed.
For a brief space the police could
concentrate quietly on their hunt with-
out the need of time-consuming ex-
planations.
And then, in mid-April, the calm
ended and once more the headlines and
radios blared out warnings that the
trigger-happy terrorist was on the prowl
again.
[. was shortly after 10 o’clock on the
night of April 15th that strikingly
beautiful Mary Krebs frantically called
the police station and cried out hys-
so “Somebody just tried to kill
me!”
Deputies J. R. Wagnon and T. B.
Keeney arrived a few minutes later,
Mary Krebs showed them a_bullet-
shattered window in the living room
‘and the spot on the wall just above the
davenport.
“If I'd been sitting there, as I usually
do, it would have been my head instead
of the wall the bullet hit,” she said
in a shaky voice. “It’s just a miracle
that I’m alive!”
“Are you alone?” Keeney asked.
_ She shook her head. “My little boy
is asleep in the next room. And my
husband is on his way home now. I
telephoned him at the machine shop
where he works as foreman on the
night shift.”
Before going further with their on-
© the-spot investigation, Keeney and Wag-
non put in an immediate call to head-
quarters. As a result they were shortly
joined by Lieutenant Rosenberg and
Sergeant Dailey, with Sergeant Leslie
arriving a few minutes later.
By the time the frightened woman’s
_ husband had joined her, together with
» a neighbor, Evan Thomas. Once more
* DETECTIVE CASES
she repeated her story of the evening.
“Evan telephoned about 7:30 and
explained that his wife ana children
were out of town and asked if he could
come over and watch the television with
me. I said of course he could, and he
stayed until just after a comedy pro-
gram ended at 10. Then he said good-
night because he wanted to get home
to get ready to go to work. He’s a
switchman in the freight yards and his
hours start at midnight.
“After he left I settled back in my
usual place on the davenport to watch
the next program on TV. Then I thought
I heard little David calling from the
bedroom and I went in to see if he was
all right. When I came back into the
‘living room I sat down in the easy
chair over there instead of on the
davenport.”
She paused and drew a deep breath
and gave an unsteady laugh. “I guess
that’s the only thing that saved my life,
because the next thing I knew I heard
the window glass cracking and the
bullet striking into the wall.”
Rosenberg nodded. He looked at the
bullet-pocked spot on the wall and then
moved over to the window, moving the
drapes to one side to study the splint-
ered window pane.
He turned back to Mary Krebs and
asked, “Were the window drapes drawn
completely over the windows at the
time of the shooting?”
“Why, yes,” Mary Krebs told him. “I
always draw them in the early evening,
as soon as I turn on the lights. I like
the feeling of privacy.”
Rosenberg nodded again and turned
his attention to Evan Thomas. “You
left here just a few minutes before the
shooting. Did you notice anyone sus-
Picious in the neighborhood?”
“I didn’t see anything,” Thomas an-
swered with careful emphasis. “But I
did hear something. That was just a
minute after I entered my house. It
sounded like a tire blow-out or truck
back-fire. But I had just come in from
the street and there weren’t any cars
moving by at the moment. So I called
Mary to see if she was all right, re-
membering those other shootings that
haven’t been solved yet. That was when
I found out what had happened.”
B* this time the spent slug had been
dug out of the wall. To no one’s
Surprise, it was a .22 caliber.
A search of the lawn and the sur-
rounding terrain had been made and the
neighbors interviewed but without any
helpful results.
Again it seemed a case without clues.
_ Rosenberg concentrated next on get-
ting the routine part of the investigation
out of the way.-Neither Mary Krebs
nor her husband had any enemies that
they knew of. Neither had ever been
threatened.
Then, suddenly, Mary Krebs recalled
something. “It’s foolish, I guess. Just
somebody with a perverted sense of
humor. But every once in a while
somebody telephones here and when I
answer whoever it is just stays on the
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A sniper was on the loose and his targets were women;
it was merely a question of time until he would kéill
DETECTIVE CASES MAGAZINE, JULY, 196).
* IT HAD BEEN HOT AND muggy in Los Angeles,
California, that August 29th, and Nina Bice welcomed
the evening with its cool breezes that swept in from
the Pacific Ocean. But the pretty young woman had more
than the coolness of the night to look forward to. She
had a date with a young man and she was looking for-
ward to a pleasant evening in his company. It was
dark and the street lights were already on when she
walked out of the Holy Cross Hospital cafeteria where
she was a waitress.
“Let’s eat outside,” Nina suggested, when her escort asked
her where she’d like to have dinner. “Then we can cool off.
How about that stand on Atlantic Avenue?” She named a
drive-in with outdoor counter and tables which was popular
with young people. “Good idea,” the escort said.
“I’m not very hungry,” Nina said as they pulled up
stools, “the heat’s robbed my appetite. All I'll have is a
sandwich and a cup of coffee.”
The 25-year-old divorcee and mother of three, who worked
at the hospital to pay the rent and buy the family groceries,
and her boy friend lingered over their coffee, exchanging the
usual small talk of people at lunch counters and bars.
Nina had just raised her. coffee cup to her lips when
it paused midway and seemed suspended for a split second.
Then it slipped from her hands and crashed to the tiled patio
of the open air lunch counter.
A look of amazement crossed Nina’s face. She uttered
the cross between a moan and gasp, half turned and then
toppled off the stool and lay on her side close by the shattered
coffee cup.
Her companion stared down at her in disbelief. This
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turned to shock when he saw blood spurting from a wound
in Nina’s temple. He looked around wildly seeking an
explanation. Other patrons at the counter were gazing
dumbfounded at the fallen girl.
Nina’s escort finally recovered enough to kneel down be-
side her, his handkerchief trying to staunch the flow of blood.
“She’s been shot,” he cried over and over. “Jt’s that mad
sniper. But why Nina?”
Someone summoned an ambulance and the police. But
for Nina Bice all help arrived too late. She had been dead
when she hit the drive-in’s floor.
Now it was a matter for the police alone and in short
order most of the top brass of Los Angeles’ homicide de-
tail were gathered at the scene. To the growing crowd of
spectators attracted by the gruesome spectacle of sudden
and mysterious death by violence it was quickly apparent
that more than routine official attention was being focused’
on the case.
Her friend, dazedly trying to answer the questions put
to him, was unaware of any special emphasis.
“I don’t know—I don’t understand,” he kept repeating to
Detective Sergeant Richard Dailey. “One second she’s sitting
next to me, drinking coffee, and the next thing I know
she’s on the ground, bleeding from some kind of wound in
her: face.”
“Did you hear any sound of gunfire?” Dailey demanded.
The man shook his head. “Not that I’m aware of. I mean, .
there was plenty of traffic going by and if I heard the gun-
shot I probably thought it was a truck back-firing. You
get so you don’t pay any attention to sounds like that.”
The other customers of the hamburger stand present at
the time of the shooting had much the same type of story
to tell. None of them had seen or heard anything out of the
way until suddenly they realized that a woman had been
mysteriously murdered before their eyes.
Leaving further routine questioning to other members of
the homicide detail, Sergeant Dailey went into conference
with Lieutenant Floyd Rosenberg who had driven up a few
minutes earlier. “Nothing much to go on,” he reported.
“According to the ambulance doc she was shot with a small
bore weapon at fairly long range. Death was practically
instantaneous.”
Rosenberg frowned as he half-turned and his eyes swept
the murder scene and the surrounding locale. One thing
was clear: the mysterious slayer had either been concealed
in one of the buildings across the way or had fired from a
parked car.
Sergeant Dailey appeared to be reading his mind. “I’ve
already detailed men to make a thorough check of the
neighborhood. But so far nothing has turned up.” He hesi-
tated, then added somberly, “Right now it’s got all the ear-
marks of the other shootings.”
Detective Mead exhibits the lethal gun.
Nina Bice, shot to death by the sniper.
, Rosenberg nodded, in his mind seeing the headlines that
would soon be spread across the front pages of all the local
newspapers. Jt had been barely 48 hours earlier that the
series of lethal snipings had started—seemingly motiveless
acts that already were beginning to terrorize suburban
Los Angeles.
N attractive young housewife was the first victim. That
was early on the morning of Monday, August 27th,
when she rushed from her home to a telephone pay station
across the way at the intersection of Rivera Road and
Passons Boulevard to summon a doctor for her ailing baby.
She made the call, hung up, and started out of the phone
booth.
That was when a sudden, sharp pain bit into her side.
When she clutched herself she was surprised to find blood
seeping through her thin housedress.
She made her way painfully back to her home, but
when the doctor she had called for her baby arrived some
fifteen minutes later it was the mother who was most in
need of attention. Rushed by ambulance to a hospital,
X-rays revealed that a .22 caliber bullet had passed through
her liver and one kidney. An emergency operation’ had been
immediately performed, but according to the latest repprts
from the hospital she was still hovering between life and
death.
No clue had so far been uncovered as to her assailant.
Then, on Tuesday evening, there was another mysterious
shooting.
A man and his wife were sitting quietly in the living room
of their home in Norwalk, in the eastern outskirts of Los
Angeles, when their calm was abruptly broken by the sharp
report of a gun, the shattering of broken window glass, and
a bullet slapping into the wall just above the wife’s head.
The husband dashed out of the house, but there was no
sign of the gunman. Nor were there any cars moving on
the quiet residential street.
The police, when they arrived a few minutes later, had no
better luck in discovering a clue to the near-fatal mystery.
But when the spent slug was dug out of the living room wall
it turned out to be a .22 caliber bullet.
And now, just 24 hours later, there was this third shoot-
ing—and this time it was murder.
“The chances are strong that this is the work of the same
man,” Rosenberg said slowly. “The newspapers will probably
Say So, at any rate. But we can’t work on that angle alone.
We have to keep in mind that it may be sheer coincidence.
That means we mustn’t overlook any of the usual ' back-
ground investigation.”
But despite intensive work during the following hours the
latter course of investigation failed to turn up anything of
possible importance. It was true (Continued on page 68)
He claimed a compulsion to shoot women.
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ing always for some tentative lead.
“This isn’t an ordinary series of re-
lated crimes,” he repeated to his top
aids. “If it were, we’d have a definite
pattern to help us. Every professional
criminal works according to habit and
in so doing leaves his trade-mark be-
hind him. But the man we’re after now
is undoubtedly a sex pervert. He can—
and does—remain hidden while he com-
mits his crime. He doesn’t have to come
in contact with his chosen victim, and
in consequence none of those living
have been able to give us even a
sketchy description. Right now the only
thing we can actually hope for is that
sooner or later he will grow careless
and make a mistake—the kind of mis-
take that will trap him.”
But for a while it looked as though
the secret sniper feared the same thing—
that if he continued he would make
some fateful error. At any rate, he’
seemed to go into retirement. The first
three months of the new year passed '
without any further attempts at mo-
tiveless slaughter. The public clamor
lessened and the tension of terror that
had gripped the city relaxed.
For a brief space the police could
concentrate quietly on their hunt with-
out the need of time-consuming ex-
planations,
And then, in mid-April, the calm
ended and once more the headlines and
radios blared out warnings that the ©
trigger-happy terrorist was on the prowl
again. :
T was shortly after 10 o’clock on the
night of April 15th that strikingly
beautiful Mary Krebs frantically called
the police station and cried out hys-
terically, “Somebody. just tried to kill
me!”
Deputies J. R. Wagnon and T. B.
Keeney arrived a few minutes later.
Mary Krebs showed them a bullet-
shattered window in the living room
and the spot on the wall just above the
davenport.
“If I'd been sitting there, as I usually
do, it would have been my head instead
of the’ wall the bullet hit,” she said
in a shaky voice. “It’s just a miracle
that I’m alive!”
“Are you alone here?” Kenney asked.
She shook her head. “My little boy
is asleep in the next room. And my
husband is on his way home now. I
telephoned him at the machine shop
where he works as foreman on the
night shift.”
Before going further with their on-
the-spot investigation, Keeney and Wag-
non put in an immediate call to head-
quarters. As a result they were shortly
joined by Lieutenant Rosenberg and
Sergeant Dailey, with Sergeant Leslie
arriving a few minutes later.
By the time the frightened woman’s
husband had joined her, together with
a neighbor, Evan Thomas. Once more
she repeated her story of the evening.
“Evan telephoned about 7:30 and
explained that his wife and children
were ouf of town and asked if he could
come over and watch the television with
me. I said of course ‘he could, and he
60
Stayed until just after a comedy pro-
gram ended at 10. Then he said good-
night because he wanted to get home
to get ready to go to work. He’s a
switchman in the freight yards and his
hours start at midnight.
“After he left I settled back in my
usual place on the davenport to watch
the next program on TV. Then I thought
I heard little David calling from the
bedroom and I went in to see if he was
all right. When I came back into the
living room I sat down in the easy
chair over there instead of on the
davenport.”
She paused and drew a deep breath~
and gave an unsteady laugh. “I guess
that’s the only thing that saved my life,
because the next thing I knew I heard
the window glass cracking and the
bullet striking into the wall.”
Rosenberg nodded. He looked at the
bullet-pocked spot on the wall and then
moved over to the window, moving the
drapes to one side to study the splint-
ered window pane.
He turned back to Mary Krebs and
asked, “Were the window drapes drawn
completely over the windows at the
_ time of the shooting?”
“Why, yes,” Mary Krebs told him. “I
always draw them in the early -evening,
as soon as J turn on the lights. I like
the feeling of privacy.”
Rosenberg nodded again and turned
his attention to Evan Thomas. “You
left here just a few minutes before the
shooting. Did you notice anyone sus-
picious in the neighborhood?”
“I didn’t see anything,” Thomas an-
swered with careful emphasis. “But I
did hear something. That was just a
minute after I entered my house.. It
sounded like a tire blow-out or truck
back-fire. But I had just come in from
the street and there weren’t any cars
moving by at the moment. So I called
Mary to see if she was all right, re-
membering those other shootings that
haven’t been solved yet. That was when
I found out what had happened.”
B* this time the spent slug had been
dug out of the wall. To no one’s
surprise, it was a .22 caliber.
A search of the lawn and the sur-
rounding terrain had been made and the’
neighbors interviewed but without any
helpful results.
' Again it seemed a case without clues.
Rosenberg concentrated next on get-
ting the routine part of the investigation
out of the way. Neither Mary Krebs
nor her husband had any enemies that
they knew of. Neither had ever -been
threatened.
Then, suddenly, Mary Krebs recalled
something. “It’s foolish, I guess. Just
somebody with a perverted sense of
humor. But every once in a while
somebody telephones here and when I
answer whoever it is just stays on the
wire and doesn’t say a word. It gives
you a queer feeling, besides making
you mad.”
“Do these calls ever come when your
husband is home?” Rosenberg asked
casually, aes
‘Mary Krebs shook her: head and
- literall
AT YARRA ARERR) HEY BP meee
smiled at her husband. “I’ve even ac-
cused him of checking up on me, but
he’s as mystified as I am.”
Rosenberg frowned thoughtfully and
said nothing. But later, back at head-
quarters, he went into long consulta-
tion with Sergeants Leslie and Dailey
about the situation.
“I have a hunch the break we’ve been
waiting for has finally happened,” he
said slowly. This time the sniper made
a mistake. Two mistakes, in fact. Re-
member, it was sheer accident that Mys.
Krebs wasn’t killed. She would have
been if she’d been sitting in her usual
place on the davenport. Only the would-
be killer couldn’t know that she wasn’t
because the drapes were drawn across
the window. But he knew where she
should be sitting and took a chance on
her still being there!”
He paused and took a look at the
intent expressions worn by his co-work-
ers on the case and nodded briefly.
“You understand as well as I do what
that means—that the sniper was familiar
with Mary Krebs’ habits. Very familiar!
Now one more thing. Suppose you were
that man and took a shot that was
in the dark and wanted to find
out whether it had found its mark or
not? It wouldn’t be smart to run the
risk of taking a look in person, for then
you might get caught in a tight spot .
with too much explaining to do.”
“I'd telephone,” Sergeant Dailey cut _
in quickly.
“Exactly!” Rosenberg snapped crisp-
ly. “And if my guess is right, that’s ex-
actly what our man did. Let’s get him
down here right now for a bit more
questioning.”
A half an hour later the man they
wanted was sitting in Rosenberg’s office,
passively blank as to his reason for be-
ing there and quietly insisting that he
knew no more about the shooting than
the little he had already told.
But Rosenberg had a feeling he was
Tepeating a role he had already care-
fully memorized for just such a grilling.
Suddenly the homicide chief switched
tactics.
“Why did you call Mary so often
and then not speak to her?” he demand-
ed. “You knew where she was well
enough.”
“I guess I just wanted to get her to
thinking,” the man said. “No harm in
that, is there?”
_ “There could have been harm enough
in firing that shot through the win-
dow!” Rosenberg pressed grimly.
The man looked back at him with
tortured eyes and for all his husky
build and physical strength there seemed
a tragic softness about him.
“But I didn’t harm her,” he pro-
tested. “My only thought was to frighten
her.”
Rosenberg nodded slowly as though
it were a natural thing and he under-
stood. Then without warning his voice
cracked sharply, “But it didn’t turn out
that way with Nina Bice, did it? You
killed her!”
“It was an accident. I didn’t intend
to. I was aiming at the cup in her
hand...”
DETECTIVE CASES
4
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DETECTIVE CAS
TER EERRITSES Se
88 COLUSA COUNTY,
In the summer of 1856, Seth Handy and a man by the name
of Thomas, got into a quarrel at John Miller’s house, on the
plains west of Colusa. In the affray Thomas shot and killed
Handy. Thomas was arrested andtried. The evidence showed
the killing to have been manslaughter, but the jury, holding
otherwise, returned a verdict of murder. The sentence of death
by hanging was passed upon Thomas, the second such in the
county, and on September 26 he was hanged to an oak tree
where Peart’s store now stands. This was the first execution at
Colusa.
Jeptha R. Marsh, who had killed a man in Shasta County,
was brought to Colusa in the fall of 1856 and tried for murder.
He was sentenced to be hanged, and the day of execution was
fixed. Marsh had many warm friends, who did their utmost
during the trial in his defense, and the night before the day of
execution he escaped from the jail, through the assistance of
friends. He was lodged ina hollow tree north of Colusa un-
til the excitement caused by his escape had subsided, when he
was assisted in his flight for Mexico. From Los Angeles he
wrote to the sheriff at Colusa, thanked him for his kindness, and
regretted his inability to be present at the execution.
Aside from the teaming up and down the river and the stage
lines, steamboats made regular trips on the river as far north as
Red Bluff, carrying freight and passengers.
From 1858 to 1861 Colusa County received a steady growth
of development. Villages sprung up in various parts of the
county, and the stage lines were extended. Colusa grew to the
dignity of atown. Princeton became a lively little place, and
Newville and St. John had post-offices, besides numerous steam-
boat landings along the Sacramento being recognized by names.
Early in 1860, the old court-house being no longer adequate
to the demands for transacting county business, the supervisors
advertised for specifications for a new court-house and jail, and
on May 7th a contract was let to J. S. Plummer, of Sacramento,
to build the present court-house, for $18,625. The building was
completed late in the fall.
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“Peay
THOMAS, Apsalom, white, hanged Colusa, C_lifornia, on 9-26-1856.
COLUSA COUNTY
— ITS —
HISTORY TRACED FROM A STATE OF, NATURE
: ~ THROUGH THE EARLY PERIOD OF SET- | :
} | TLEMENT AND DEVELOPMENT, |.
TO THE PRESENT DAY i
WITH A ;
DESCRIPTION OF ITS RESOURCES, STATISTICAL
TABLES, ETC.
ALSO
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES OF PIONEERS AND
PROMINENT RESIDENTS
J
’ By JUSTUS H. ROGERS
4
ORLAND, CALIFORNIA j
i paid 1SgI
PURLIC LIBRAR
VIILLOWS, CALIF
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THOMAS, Absalom, white, hanged Colusa, Calif., 9-26-1856,
» county judge, deputy county
, deputy clerk of the district court,
as a witness at the trial.
' blacksmith shop, and later an
house, was used at Monroeville
ail until an iron cell was obtained
November, 1852. This iron cell
1e an open-air jail; it was placed
a large oak tree near the Monroe
where all could see what the
1ers were doing.
keke KEK KO
lier known as Salmon Bend, the
af Colusa was founded in 1850 on
ite of an ancient Indian village.
ompetition between the towns of
xeville and Colusa continued un-
i until the election of May, 1853.
s election, the inhabitants of the
r voted to change the county seat
town of Colusa.
last rent which the county paid
surtroom and county office space
Monroe House was for the period
r October 27, 1853. Thereupon
dunty records and offices were
i to Colusa. Even the iron jail
vas taken from Monroeville. In
ary of 1854 it was loaded on the
er Gazelle and shipped down the
mento River to Colusa.
iuing remains of Monroeville to-
Within a few years after the re-
mm of the county seat, Monroe-
vas even deserted by its founder
e townsite merged into farmland.
ee KR KKK
‘ovember, 1853, the county began
> rent to Dr. James Compton for
-e of a house for courtroom and
* office space at Colusa. This
, which was located on Main
, is no longer standing.
June 6, 1854, the bid of Stewart
rrison in the sum of $3,000.00
ecepted by the county for the
‘uction of a two-story wood build~
’ x 30’, at a siteonthe south side
Street opposite the present county
f Records building. The native oak
n the construction of this building
sawed at the Grand Island mill.
nal payment on the contract was
on August 18, 1854, and the build-
‘8 occupied soon thereafter.
structure was properly called
ctroom and Jail building, it being
or these purposes only. Theiron
hipped from Monroeville was in-
i in the upper story and became
yunty jail. The entire ground
of the building was used for a
courtroom. Office space at several
locations in the town of Colusa was
rented by the county for its officers.
The sheriff did not even have office
space in his own jail, but shared the
second story of a brick building on
Main Street with the County Clerk.
X In August of 1856 Absalom Thomas
was tried, and convicted, in the court~
room of this wood building for the mur~
der of Septer P. Handy. A gallows was
constructed on the vacant lot next to
the Courtroom and Jail building and on
September 26, 1856, Thomas was exe-
cuted. This gallows, like the previous
one erected at Monroeville, claimed
only one victim. It stood exposed to
the gaze of all who passed by for sev~
eral years. Eventually the sheriff sold
it at public auction to an unnamed buy-
er who knocked it apart and hauled off
the lumber for other use.
x*eeK KK KK K
The Courtroom and Jail building
erected in 1854 was never adequate
for the needs of the county, and in
1860 the Board of Supervisors deter-
mined to build a new courthouse and
jail, at a cost “not to exceed
$15,000.00." Various plans and speci-
fications were received, and the ones
proposed by Vincent Brown of Marys-
ville were adopted by the Board. On May
7, 1860, the low bid of Jaines G. Plum-
ber of Sacramento to erect the structure
was accepted for $18,625.00.
The county had contracted to have a
new courthouse built without owning, or
having selected, any site for the build-
ing! A committee was appointed to
select lots in Colusa for the purpose,
and two proposed sites were designated:
The site which was eventually selected
(being appraised at $275.00), anda sec-
ond site across the street northerly
therefrom (appraised at $150.00).
Colonel Charles D. Semple was the
owner of five of the six lots contained
in the first proposed location and he ap-
peared before the Board and proposed
to “donate” these lots to the county for
the purpose of building a courthouse
thereon. This ‘‘gift” was accepted and
the remaining lot in this site was ac~
quired for $20.00. The exact nature of
Colonel Semple’s “donation” was to
arise in 1864; in this year he claimed
that the deed by him to the county was
in consideration of an agreement by the
county to cancel certain county taxes
owed by him. The Board refused to can=
ve
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Mrs. Nina Marie Bice: She was lifting a coffee cup to her ne
when The Mad Sniper fired—and she fell, as shown at right
just one incident among the thou-
sands that are reported every day
to the police departments of a crowded
metropolitan area.
Mrs. Lois Mae Kreutzer had been
making a telephone call from an out-
door booth near her home in Rivera, a
suburb of Los Angeles, when she felt a
stinging sensation in her arm.
At first she thought it had been a bee
or a wasp. But when she finished the
call and got home, she found blood-
Stains on her blouse and a wound in her
arm larger than any insect could have
made.
A doctor was summoned and he ex-
amined the arm.
The wound, he said, had been made
by a bullet! Apparently someone had
taken a shot at Mrs. Kreutzer.
The doctor notified the sheriff’s of-
fice and Detective Sergeant Clifford
Price of the sheriff’s police was sent to
Mrs. Kreutzer’s home. By the time he
got there, the doctor had extracted the
bullet; it was small and in good shape,
probably a .22.
Who could have done it? Mrs.
Kreutzer was sure no one would have
shot at her intentionally. Price went
back to the telephone booth and looked
around. He tried to figure out where
the shot had come from but inasmuch
14
[’ DIDN'T sound like much at first—
as Mrs. Kreutzer had been hit in the
arm, and the arm might have been in a
dozen different positions, he couldn’t
tell.
He knocked on a few doors in the vi-
cinity but no one had heard a shot and
no one had seen anybody with a gun.
A stray bullet, probably, the detective
thought. Somebody getting a little
careless with his target shooting. He
turned in a report to this effect.
That was on the night of August 27,
1951.
The next night Price wasn’t so sure.
A MAN by the name of Lloyd Wal-
ter, of Norwalk, seven miles from
Rivera but still an eastern suburb of
Los Angeles, reported by telephone that
someone had put a bullet through a
front window of his home.
Again Price went out. The bullet, he
learned, had missed Mrs. Walter by a
few inches and was imbedded in the
wall of the living-room.
He dug it out and, as far as he could
tell by looking at it with the naked eye,
it bore a close resemblance to the slug
taken from Mrs. Kreutzer’s arm the
night before.
Once again, the Walters were sure
that they had no enemies who were out
to kill them. They’d never heard of
Mrs. Kreutzer. And no one in the
Trailing
.
Anyone, Any Good-Looking Young
Woman, Anywhere in the Vast Los
Angeles Area, Might Be His Next
Victim, Unless the Police Could—
By J. K. Harris
Special Investigator for
ACTUAL DETECTIVE STORIES
neighborhood had heard a shot or seen
a man with a gun.
Vaguely disturbed. Price reported by
telephone to Lieutenant Floyd Rosen-
berg of the sheriff’s Homicide Squad.
“Send the slugs in,” Rosenberg di-
rected. “If they aren't too badly
banged up, we can find out if they were
fired from the same gun.”
Back at the station, when he turned
in his written report, Price learned
something else.
A few days before, Will Lyle of the
neighboring community of Bellflower
had reported that his dog had been shot
and killed by a stranger.
Price decided to question him, too.
“About ten o'clock a couple of nights
ago I heard Rex barking in the back
yard,” Lyle told Price. “I looked out
and saw this fellow raise a rifle and
shoot and hop into an old, black sed
and beat it.”
Lyle described the man as being b
and powerful, but in the darkness, }
hadn’t been able to get a detailed d
scription. However, he was certain t!
man was no one he recognized.
PRICE visited the near-by homes an
learned that Lyle’s dog was a neig!
borhood pet. Lyle didn’t know Mr
Kreutzer or the Walters and they
never heard of him.
On the surface, no obvious tie existe
between the shooting of a young w
man in a telephone booth, a shot fire
through the living-room window of
home and the killing of a dog.
However, in the afternoon, Liei
tenant Rosenberg called Price at h
home—Price was off shift—and e>
time. But on April 15, 1952, the phantom
started a new year of trigger pulling.
Los Nietos is located three miles due
north from Norwalk along Norwalk
Boulevard, and it was here that Lieu-
tenant Rosenberg found another private
home surrounded by police cars, photog-
raphers, and a clamoring crowd of curious
spectators. Rosenberg spoke briefly with
the local officers, then went into a quiet
room with the latest target, Joan Frances
Hiles, and let Sergeant Dailey draw the
story from her while he observed the 22-
year-old housewife.
Joan Hiles was probably the most
beautiful of the seven girls the phantom
had fired at. She was still beautiful—
because the sniper’s bullet had missed.
Her story was not unlike the others.
Her husband had been at work on the
night shift at an industrial plant. Her 4-
year-old son was sound asleep in his
nursery. Joan had been viewing tele-
vision with a neighbor, a railroad worker
due on his job at midnight.
At 10 o’clock the television show ended
and the neighbor excused himself and
left for his home. Joan stepped into the
nursery to see that the little boy was
all right. She then went on into the
kitchen, remained there about two min-
utes, and returned to the livingroom and
switched on a new television program.
She sat down in an armchair, drawing
her legs up under her comfortably. Sud-
denly the glass in one livingroom window
smashed and the sound of a gunshot
reached Joan’s ears as something thumped
into the plaster wall on the opposite side
of the room.
I remembered about the phantom
sniper,” she told the officers. “I dropped to
the floor immediately, crawled to the
phone and called my husband at the
plant. He told me to call the sheriff's
office and stay away from the windows
until the police arrived.”
Deputy J. R. Wagnon nodded in agree-
ment. “When we got here, Mrs. Hiles was
well hidden from the front. We searched
the grounds quickly but there was no
sign of a prowler. Officers have been
around to all the neighbors already, and
nobody saw anything strange although a
few of them did hear the shot.”
Lieutenant Rosenberg walked over to
the broken window, saw a small hole the
bullet had ripped in the full-length drapes,
then crossed to the wall where the slug
had hit. “This one on the way to the
lab?”
Deputy T. B. Keeney said the bullet
had been recovered and rushed to the
crime laboratory shortly after their ar-
rival. A local officer now entered the
livingroom, carefully holding on a bit
of cardboard a stub of a cigaret. He said
it had been found outside on the Hiles
lawn. Rosenberg, Sergeants Dailey and
Leslie and the deputies immediately hur-
ried out to the place where the butt had
been picked up.
The lieutenant backed off a few paces
from the point of the discovery to allow
for the distance the sniper had flipped
the cigaret. Then he told Leslie, “Go in-
side, darken the room and shine your
flash from the spot where the bullet hit
the wall.”
In a moment the detective sergeant’s
light could be seen through the window—
flashlight and drapery hole lining up
perfectly with the position Rosenberg
had taken. “No doubt,” the lieutenant
said, “that this is the spot from which
he fired from. That butt was smoked by
the sniper.”
Back inside, Rosenberg questioned Joan
Hiles a second time. The pretty girl re-
72 ad
vealed that three or four times in the
90 year she had received telephone calls
ate at night. When she answered, no
one would reply, yet she could hear heavy
breathing on the other end. After a
minute or two, the caller would hang
up without having uttered a word.
“These calls, Mrs. Hiles,” Rosenberg
said, “they came when your husband
was here?”
“No—when I was alone. When he was at
work.”
“Then it would be reasonable to assume
that the caller knew when you would be
alone,” the lieutenant said. He glanced
at an ash tray and noticed several cigaret
stubs which did not have traces of lipstick
on them. “Your visiting neighbor,” Rosen-
berg said, “he smokes?”
The neighbor, Evan Thomas, did smoke.
But he was a solid type, so devoted a
family man that Joan and her husband
never questioned his visits to their house.
Thomas had a pair of cute youngsters and
the two families were on friendly terms.
He had dropped over that night because
he was lonely for his wife and children,
who were visiting relatives in San
Gabriel.
“Mr. Thomas heard the gunshot, too,”
Joan Hiles said. “He called me on the
phone right after I talked to the sheriff’s
substation at Norwalk. I told him I was
all right but asked him to come over
and wait with me until the police got
here.”
Deputies Wagnon and Keeney looked
puzzled. “There wasn’t anyone here when
we arrived,” Keeney said.
“When I heard your siren,” Joan said,
“I told Mr. Thomas I’d be all right, so
he left to be on time for his job.”
Rosenberg turned to leave but before
saying goodbye to the housewife asked
one question: “Do you always sit in the
armchair when you watch television? I
notice that the ash tray with Mr. Thomas’
cigaret butts in it was near that chair,
as if he had been seated there.”
Joan managed a smile of surprise at
the lieutenant’s thoroughness. “Usually
I sit on the davenport to watch television,”
she said. “On the far end. For some rea-
son I decided to sit in the armchair in-
stead when I got back from the kitchen.”
Rosenberg walked to the drapes, found
the hole, and using a fingertip as an
imagined bullet, ran the straight line
from the hole to the point in the far
wall where the bullet hit. The line passed
through the exact spot where Joan Hiles'
head would have been if she had been in
her customary seat at the far end of the
davenport.
“Whatever reason you had for switching
sont Rosenberg said, “it saved your
se.” ‘
Outside, the lieutenant told Sergeant
Leslie and Dailey to locate Evan Thomas
at his job and bring the man to the Nor-
walk substation for an interview. “He’s
the best witness we’ve had yet. Maybe
Thomas can help us out with this
mystery.”
Half an hour later Thomas was at the
substation, wondering what it was all
about but showing eagerness to be help-
ful. He was a tall, well-built young man
with dark hair and a scraggly little try
at a mustache. Rosenberg ran hi
through a routine quiz, adding to the
previous information only the facts that
Thomas was 28 and a veteran of the Air
Force. ;
“You live two doors from the Hiles?”
Rosenberg asked.
“Yes. I heard the shot, called Mrs. Hiles,
and went right over when she said she
was afraid to be alone,” Thomas replied.
“Neighborly,” Rosenberg commented.
“You're alone yourself a lot—when your
family visits relatives?”
Evan Thomas nodded affirmatively, took
out a cigaret and leaned forward to ac-
cept a light Rosenberg held out. The
lieutenant chuckled. “You smoke the
same brand we found outside the Hiles
house,” he said. “Good thing it’s a popular
brand.”
Thomas grinned but the grin faded
as Rosenberg hit him with several more
questions. Had the Thomas family been
away visiting on the day after Christmas?
d on August 27, 28, 29, October 16,
November 22?
Thomas thought they had been away
around last Christmas and maybe for
several days in August. He wasn’t sure,
but could find out.
“You were pretty sure about Mrs. Hiles’
phone number,” Rosenberg snapped.
“How come?”
“‘T’ve called the house before,” Thomas
said. “Nothing wrong in that, is there?”
“But sometimes you didn’t say any-
thing,” Rosenberg insisted. “Just kept
silent to scare her when she was alone?”
Thomas scowled. “Because of a lousy
cigaret, you're trying to pin this sniper
thing on me?”
“Because the living room drapes in the
Hiles home were drawn shut,” Rosenberg
said. “They are heavy drapes and you
can’t see through them. Yet an accurate
shot was fired through those drapes and
would have killed Joan Hiles had she
been seated in her usual place on the
davenport. Only someone familiar with
the Hiles would have tried shooting with-
out seeing his target. Someone who knew
Joan was in that room, on the davenport,
because that’s where she had been just
a moment before, when he left the house!”
Thomas turned white, clawed for an-
other cigaret. “Search the Thomas home
for a .22 rifle,” Rosenberg instructed Leslie
and Dailey. He swung back to Thomas.
“You called right after the shot because
some crazy sex impulse forced you to
shoot at her and it wasn’t any good unless
you knew she had been hit.”
The burly suspect passed a hand over
his eyes. “You'll find the rifie in my
house,” he said, breathing heavily. “I
shot at her. I’d get restless when my
family was away—get to riding around,
looking at other women, wanting dates
with them, I liked to see them over my
rifle sights, scare them or hurt them just
a little. I didn’t mean to kill that brunette,
I just wanted to shoot the cup from her
hand, but I wasn’t that good a shot.”
Thomas confessed that he fired at the
women to satisfy a strange impulse, then
he would drink heavily.
A high-powered, bolt-action .22 caliber
rifle was found hidden in the suspect’s
home. Taken to the crime laboratory, it
was test-fired by ballistics technicians and
the specimen slugs were compared under
the microscope with bullets recovered
from the various victims during the phan~
tom sniper’s eight-month reign of terror
in the Los Angeles suburbs. The crime lab
experts reported an exact match—the
sniper slugs had been fired from the .22
rifle owned by Evan Thomas.
Five counts of assault with a deadly
weapon were lodged against the suspect,
and one count of first-degree murder. To
all charges, the accused pleaded guilty.
For taking the life of young Nina Bice
to steal a distorted thrill, Evan Thomas
was ushered into the gas chamber at
San Quentin Penitentiary and strapped to
one of the twin seats. The phantom, who
had habitually vanished in thin air from
the scene of his crimes, was destroyed
by the invisible fumes.
C AWM
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Five Pretty Victim
For The Ugly Snip
by EDWIN JOHNSON
Sgt. Gilbert Leslie,
36
STARTLING DETECTIVE, March, 1978. 7
Fiends who went to the gas cham
1
ber
Trattic was moderate alon
Recs a aD De
Re Sfua lea AAT, Ase MICE
Hit in the thigh by the sniper’s bullet, Irma Megrdle is comforted by her husband.
the nurse in charge.
“The doctor is up there,”’
x
er: ig the U.S. 101 Bypass at mid-morning but Detective E . Sttical.
d driving at high speed with siren wide open, :
passing cars. He could think of nothing but the strange coinciden
him away from the Los Angeles County sheriff’
The way he had gotten it over the tele-
phone, a housewife had called in a physi-
cian to attend her sick baby but now she
was in the hospital herself, suffering from
a gunshot wound. By the time he reached
the emergency driveway entrance of the
she said. |
ea
~ the antiseptic odors, found the right cor-
ridor and eased open the door of 414. An
attractive young woman lay on the bed; a
nurse and physician conferred in hushed
voices nearby. The doctor turned and
~ motioned for Leslie to follow him back
“S% outside.
Ba In the corridor, he said, ‘‘She. isn’t in
t severe pain but she’s scheduled for the
_ Operating room in a very short time.”
“She was shot?"’ Leslie asked.
“Through the liver and kidney,”’ the
doctor explained. He added that Lois
Kreutzer had telephoned him early that
a morning, August 27,1951, from a pay sta-
tion nearhher home to look in on her ail-
ing baby. As she stepped from the out-
door booth she felt a sudden stab of pain
in her side just above the hip.
& It went away at once and she thought
‘+. MO more about it,.in her anxiety over the
: baby, until a visiting neighbor called at-
tention to a bloodstain on her dress. The
doctor arrived a few moments later,
swiftly examined the woman’s side and
Ry had her rushed to the hospital in an am-
bulance. The case was serious, but not
“You can go in now and talk to her,”’
kept a wary eye on, the doctor told Leslie. “Try to make it
ce which had pulled’ *°
s substation at Norwalk, Cal.
hospital, Sergeant Leslie had mentally
Tt.’
Wasting no time, the sergeant inter-
viewed the wounded woman, keeping his
asked for the patient, Mrs. Lois® Questions to the important business of
worked out a dozen different versions of Kreutzer. “Is she able to talk?”’ he asked. —
how it had happened, and he knew none 4
of them would be right.
He found a spot to park his car, hurried
in to the desk, displayed his badge and~ The sergeant took the elevator, inhaled ;_
senseless murder.
i
a
LY
While she was Ironing, Mrs. Audrey Murdock felt oO
a sudden flash of pain in her hip. She had just = [=
become the fifth woman shot by the mad sniper. 7
6
vs
locating witnesses. ‘‘Did you see anyone 3
around as you entered the booth?” he <4
asked. 3
Lois Kreutzer shook her head. She had iS
seen no one, had heard no gunshot and
had thought she probably had been stung
by a wasp. She had no known enemies
and there wasn't a reason in the world
why anyone would fire at her.
Sergeant Leslie left the hospital room
convinced that one of his dozen explana- 4
tions for the shooting did fit — someone
with a rifle had turned loose a slug which
by accident had hit Lois Kreutzer. Tothe (9
doctor, he said, ‘‘Just a matter of routine, "CJ
but I'll need the slug you take out of ms]
eqTum
side.”
- The bullet came through to the substa- ;
tion late that evening and Sergeant Leslie }
delivered it to the crime laboratory in Los
Angeles. He had driven out that after-
noon to the neighborhood of the pay
phone booth, had made inquiries up and
down both sides of the street, had inter-
(continued on page 41)
The body of Nina Bice, covered by a blanket,
Hes in a drive-in while detectives discuss the
=
IS6L "6c Avenuep (SeTesuUY SOT) UTWUEND UES pozeT
ee
But 15 minutes after he entered the
apartment Silia was taken into formal
custody on 17 charges ranging from
pandering to violation of the firearms law
and contributing to the delinquency of
a minor. After his arrest the police found
a briefcase in his car containing a fully
loaded German Luger automatic pistol.
“Never saw the gun before,” Silia said
calmly. “Someone must have put it in my
briefcase.”
“Ever see these records?” inquired De
Stout, referring to lists of employes and
prospective customers also found in the
briefcase.
Silia had no more to say after that. But
when he appeared before Alderman
Leonard A. Civill for arraignment, he told
the court he would act as his own attor-
ney. During the hearing which followed,
Silia cross-examined five of the teenage
girls who were produced as witnesses
against him.
Two of those girls told how they had
been sent out on trysts with the casket
company executive. A third, Agatha Ars-
dale, testified to threats of torture and
shooting she said Silia had made after
luring her into his escort service. The
others repeated earlier statements con-
cerning their submission to the desires
of escort service clients.
In a heated exchange with Assistant
District Strauss, who referred to the de-
fendant as “a sleazy pimp,” the shrewd-
eyed prisoner countered by calling the
prosecutor “a sleazy DA.” After it was
over Silia was held without bail for the
Allegheny County grand jury and re-
turned to his cell in the county jail.
Then police contacted Silia’s pretty 19-
year-old fiancee, Janet Recker, at her
Rochelle Street home. Advised that Silia
would be tried on charges that could send
him to prison for terms as long as life,
Janet replied:
“T still love Nick, and I’ll wait 60 years
for him if I have to. I realize it was a crazy
thing that he has done. But when the
escort business was formed three months
ago it was just a legitimate business. It
simply got out of control. Even Nick
couldn’t watch those girls 100 per cent
of the time.”
Referring to the man she said she would
wait to marry, the divorcee added,
“Everyone is making Nick out to be such
a terrible person. Actually, he’s sick and
he needs psychiatric treatment, not the
type of treatment he will get in jail. Why,
my little brother has met Nick. He and
the other children of the neighborhood
like him. That’s because Nick treats them
so nice. He teaches them things and takes
them to amusement parks.”
Janet explained that she had met Silia
six months before and had been with
him the night he conceived the idea of
starting an escort service. But she had
never acted as an escort herself. “It was
formed without any immoral idea in
mind,” the girl added. “Basically Nick’s
good, and I intend to wait for him.”
(The names Agatha Marie Van Arsdale and
Georgette Lee Bowman are fictitious to protect
the identity of persons unfortunately involved
in the case.—The Editor)
5 Women Victims of the
Mad Sniper
{Continued from page 35]
“Probably some thoughtless person
fired a shot wide of the target and didn’t
know it hit somebody,” he told the lab
man. “Give it the routine treatment and
alert me if it matches anything turned up
in other local shootings.”
The report on the ballistics tests of the
slug was phoned through to Sergeant
Leslie the next afternoon—phoned be-
cause there wasn’t much to the report and
it was all negative. The bullet was a .22
which didn’t match up with anything in
the large collection of slugs at the crime
laboratory. This supported Leslie’s theory
of a stray bullet striking Lois Kreutzer.
Three hours later the Norwalk substa-
tion buzzed with excitement as Sergeant
Leslie took a phone call and bolted out to
his car without waiting to explain to the
desk man. Minutes later, he braked to a
rocking halt in front of the suburban home
of Lloyd Walter, who met him at the door.
Leslie noticed the shattered window pane
before he went inside.
“Somebody pegged a shot through the
et Walter said. “It almost hit my
wife.”
Leslie rushed inside, took a fast look at
the shards of glass on the living room floor,
then studied a small hole in the wall op-
posite the broken window. “Where were
you seated, Mrs. Walter?” he asked a pale-
faced young woman.
She pointed to an armchair, then sat
down in it. Her head, in natural position,
came within an inch of the bullet hole.
The detective sergeant couldn’t meet the
housewife’s eyes. He knew now that this
was not just someone with a gun. This was
somebody an inch away from being a
killer.
The Norwalk substation was going to
need help from police downtown, and
plenty of it. A radio call from Leslie’s
car to the substation advised the desk man
to contact central headquarters and re-
quest detective assistance.
Sergeant Leslie then walked around the
house, made a careful search,of the
grounds, but found no tracks or worth-
while clues. He went back inside the
house. “Do you know the Kreutzers?” he
asked the Walter couple.
70 >
They didn’t know Lois Kreutzer, they
didn’t know anyone who knew her and
they doubted if the Kreutzers knew them.
Thirty minutes later Leslie knew what
the Walters knew—that they had no
enemies, Mrs. Walter had never been fol-
lowed home by’ strange men, they had
never received threatening phone calls,
none of their friends were screwballs, none
of the youngsters in the neighborhood
were the type called juvenile delinquents.
As with the Kreutzers, the sergeant
drew a blank except for the deadly bit
of lead. But even the blank revealed one
thing: If the human targets didn’t know
each other, there was a good chance the
sniper didn’t know them. This meant he
was shooting at them for the lone thing
they had in common—both targets were
women.
Sergeant Leslie took the second slug to
the Los Angeles crime laboratory and
turned it in. Ballistics tests would decide
the matter, whether it was sheer coinci-
dence—two accidents of similar nature at
the same time—or whether a maniac was
at large in the suburbs of Los Angeles,
firing at women with a rifle.
Tell me they’re different slugs,” he
said hopefully an hour later when a lab
. technician came looking for him.
The lab man shook his head. “Sorry.
We have a match for you. The Kreutzer
slug and this Walter one were fired from
the same .22 caliber rifle.”
Sergeant Leslie rushed his evidence to”
Sheriff Eugene Biscailuz, briefing the top
county lawman on the case and filing a
personal request for assistance.
The sheriff unhesitatingly assigned a
dozen extra plainclothesmen to the Nor-
walk substation. It was decided to throw
a blanket of special patrols over the area
bounded by Norwalk Boulevard on the
west, Valley View Avenue on the east,
Imperial Highway on the north, Rosecrans
Avenue on the south. Somewhere inside
this rectangle, the officials felt, lay the
stamping grounds. of the mysterious
sniper.
As he drove back to Norwalk, Sergeant
Leslie tried to map out the area involved
in the mystery shootings. North of the
patrolled section lay the Norwalk State
Hospital, with possibly some violent men-
tal cases, and beyond that an oil field
which attracted a flow of transient
workers. There was another oil field to
the northeast, near Whittier, and one to
the east at Fullerton. If the sniper started
showing up in these places, it was going
to be hard to run him down.
At the substation, Sergeant Leslie set
his men into a two-pronged action. Some
were assigned to go from door to door to
inquire about rifle ownership. Others went
out to drag in certain unruly youngsters
of the community for questioning. The
officers on loan from central headquarters
arrived early on the’ next morning, the
29th, and began an efficient patrol, two
men per car, of the endangered zone.
Leslie checked out the reports as they
came in through the workday. Nothing
suspicious was noted by the patrol teams,
a few teen-agers had been interrogated
but released when they could prove their
whereabouts at the times of the shootings.
Half a dozen .22 rifles were on the way
to the crime laboratory for ballistics test-
ing.
The street lights went on that evening
and a lot of pretty, young women ventured
out in the Norwalk area—potential tar-
gets for the sniper. But in Norwalk, Ser-
geant Leslie had no cause to worry. Nina
Bice, 25-year-old divorcee, stopped at a
brightly neoned drive-in stand on Atlantic
Avenue in East Los Angeles, about seven
miles from the Norwalk substation. Nina
wore slacks, white bobby socks, loafers,
and a nicely filled sweater. She might just
as well have been wearing a bullseye tar-
get.
Despite her trim figure, Nina’s most at-
tractive feature was her smoothly com-
plexioned face with wide, lustrous eyes.
Her escort watched the girl and thought
she was charming, even over the top of a
sandwich and the rim of a coffee cup.
Other eyes watched Nina Bice, and found
209 beautiful, over the iron sights of a .22
rifle.
The brunette’s lovely face suddenly
reddened in one tiny spot and she slid
from her stool, coffee cup spilling onto
the counter, sandwich flying apart and
dropping. Nina tumbled all the way to
the ground and didn’t move. Her escort,
the clerk and other patrons ran to the
fallen girl, but there seemed no way to
stop the blood which was gushing from
her face. Someone phoned for an ambu-
lance and then called the police.
“No use,” a customer said, lowering
Nina’s head. “She’s gone.”
Lt. Floyd Rosenberg and a team from
the sheriff’s homicide detail arrived at the
hamburger drive-in as the ambulance
medic was
diagnosis of d
his men, two
graphic gear,
nesses togeth«
“Gunshot
Rosenberg. “|
me.”
The doctor
berg there we
ing out an an
tion of the b
bored straigh'
of flesh, the
possible to fis
for the bullet
Photograph
carried off an
telephone tc
“Call in all in
Norwalk subs
hunting,” he
may have we
Angeles and }
Top priority
when it was
the crime la
covered in the
ings were r¢
placed under
with the Nin:
faced technic
revolving eac!
for a nearby t
“Homicide.”
Lieutenant
the Walter,
were a perte<
walk had be
Angeles.
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of them fata
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phantom witt
and its subu:
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tim. Anybody
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Police face
the fourth n
edge that a
strong critici:
sniper. Regul
out sprawlins
fully for ar
bundle.
Hours tick
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lishments wa
and soon Los
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had been frig
publicity giv
Bice.
Lieutenant
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probe into t}
targets to di
remote possi
their lives.
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sniper was <
be no motive
no further
plore.
Police vig
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vigilance pa!
without furt
22 rifles we
wrong guns
returned to
September s
Even Nick
100 per cent
id she would
reee added,
t to be such
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in jail, Why,
Vick. He and
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ad met Silia
been with
the idea of
But she had
rself. “It was
ral idea in
ically Nick’s
or him.”
1 Arsdale and
‘Ous to protect
itely involved
uper started
it was going
t Leslie set
action. Some
x to door to
Others went
youngsters
tioning. The
1eadquarters
1orning, the
patrol, two
d zone.
orts as they
y. Nothing
atrol teams,
nterrogated
prove their
e shootings.
on the way
ulstics test-
nat evening
2n ventured
tential tar-
rwalk, Ser-
worry. Nina
opped ata
on Atlantic
‘bout seven
ation. Nina
cks, loafers,
e might just
ullseye tar-
a’s most at-
othly com-
trous eyes,
and thought
the top of a
coffee cup.
and found
zhts of a .22
suddenly
id she slid
illing onto
apart and
he way to
Her escort,
ran to the
no way to
shing from
an ambu-
lowering
team from
ived at the
ambulance
Reeve.
medic was confirming the customer’s
diagnosis of death. Rosenberg nodded to
his men, two began to unpack photo-
graphic gear, others rounded the wit-
nesses together in a tight little group.
“Gunshot wound,” the doctor told
Rosenberg. “Looks like a small caliber to
me.”
The doctor advised Lieutenant Rosen-
berg there would be little hope of work-
ing out an angle of flight from the posi-
tion of the bullet strike. The slug had
bored straight on into a curved portion
of flesh, the curvature making it im-
possible to figure an accurate trajectory
for the bullet.
Photographs were taken, the corpse was
carried off and the lieutenant got on the
telephone to contact his headquarters.
“Call in all information you can get from
Norwalk substation on that sniper they’re
hunting,” he said. “The same character
may have wandered over into East Los
Angeles and killed a woman.” ‘
Top priority was given the death bullet
when it was rushed from the morgue to
the crime laboratory. The pellets re-
covered in the Walter and Kreutzer shoot-
ings were removed from the file and
placed under the comparison microscope
with the Nina Bice death slug. A tight-
faced technician peered for a long time,
revolving each bullet slowly, then reached
for a nearby telephone and said one word:
“Homicide.”
Lieutenant Rosenberg took the report—
the Walter, Kreutzer, and Bice bullets
were a perfect match. The sniper of Nor-
walk had become the killer of East Los
Angeles.
Three shootings in three nights—one
of them fatal—was a news item which
splashed Los Angeles papers with huge
headlines and boomed importantly over
the radio and television newscasts. A
phantom with a rifle was roaming the city
and its suburbs, looking for human tar-
gets. Any woman might be the next vic-
tim. Anybody at all might be the demented
gunman or gunwoman. Fear followed
women down every street, even into their
homes.
Police faced the night of August 30—
the fourth night—with the grim knowl-
edge that a new shooting would bring
strong criticism if they failed to trap the
sniper. Regular and extra patrols through-
out sprawling Los Angeles watched care-
fully for any person carrying a long
bundle.
Hours ticked off. Midnight came and
went, closing time for drinking estab-
lishments was reached, lights winked off
and soon Los Angeles was asleep. There
had been no shots. The sniper, apparently,
had been frightened off by the tremendous
publicity given to the murder of Nina
Bice.
Lieutenant Rosenberg and Detective
Sgt. Richard Dailey launched a careful
probe into the backgrounds of the three
targets to determine if there were any
remote possibility of a common factor in
their lives. After talking to their rela-
tives, reviewing old records and inter-
viewing the two live women, the detec-
tives were forced to conclude that the
sniper was a psycho. There appeared to
be no motive for the shootings, there were
no further investigative avenues to ex-
plore.
Police vigilance continued even if the
detection had reached a standstill. And
vigilance paid off. August came to an end
without further incidents. The collected
.22 rifles were tested, found to be the
wrong guns for the three slugs and were
returned to their owners. The month of
September saw the sniper story slip from
the pages of the newspapers and gradually
from the memories of Los Angeles citi-
zens. By October there hadn’t been an-
other sniping and even at police head-
quarters the feeling was that the menace
was at an end.
There had been three shootings on three
successive days—then nothing. Was it pos-
sible the sniper had moved to another part
of the country? Had the death of Nina
9c frightened him into abandoning his
angerous sport?
On October 16, two and a half months
after the murder of Nina Bice, a 10-year-
old student named Patricia Ellen Bryant
stood on a street corner in Downey wait-
ing for the morning school bus. Her right
elbow suddenly began to sting as she had
never been stung before. Then blood
gushed to the pavement.
The child screamed and_ startled
passersby ran to help her. They found
Patricia’s elbow bone virtually ttered
by a rifle bullet. But nowhere, up and
down the street, was there a sign of a
man with or without a gun. The police
and an ambulance were summoned, and in
the wake of the excitement came Lieuten-
ant Rosenberg.
Downey is located mid-way between
Norwalk and the hamburger stand where
Nina Bice had been slain. Upon hearing
the report of the shooting, Rosenberg im-
mediately connected it to the earlier
crimes of the phantom and rushed to
Downey to reopen the sniper investiga-
tion.
Questioning of the wounded girl and
witnesses brought forth no workable leads.
Once more the phantom had fired from
ambush without leaving a trace.
Rosenberg obtained the latest slug and
forwarded it to the crime laboratory in
downtown Los Angeles. He was not at all
surprised to learn that it was an exact
match for the three earlier sniper slugs.
His phone call to the sheriff’s office was
preceded by a flood of indignant messages
from angry and alarmed citizens.
“The sniper’s at work again,” the sheriff
said, beating Rosenberg to the punch.
“This time the newspapers will really cry
for action. I’ve had several top-level
blasts on it already.”
“All we can do is put on more trols,”
Rosenberg said, “and check e gun
stores.”
The patrols brought in a number of sus-
picious characters. But they all supplied
good alibis and were turned loose. With
the renewed alarm for the phantom, police
began to be flooded with tips, mostly of
an anonymous nature. The tips were
checked out, as a matter of police Policy,
but led only to frustration for the in-
vestigating officers.
One thing became clear: the sniper was
no ordinary criminal. He would not be
caught in any police roundup of suspi-
cious characters or be spotted by any un-
trained citizen. Phantom, the newswriters
had named him, and phantom he was.
October saw no more of him. Police
patrols returned to normal. The month
of November passed quietly until the 22nd.
In Rivera, four miles north of Norwalk,
Mrs. Irma Megrdle was working in her
garden at the side of her house. She was
bending over, weeding, when she fancied
she heard a light pop.
Before she could straighten, a whining
slug struck her in the thigh, knocking the
limb. out from under her and causing her
to fall to her knees. Publicity had been
so intense about the phantom sniper that
the first thought in Irma’s mind was that
she was another victim. Discovering that
her injury was slight, she bravely limped
around to the front of her house. It had
seemed to her that the shot had come
from that direction, but now the street
was empty and silent.
She hurried inside the house and called
a doctor and the police. Once more
Lieutenant Rosenberg joined the inves-
tigation, once more the net result of leg-
work and interrogation was a single,
crushed bit of lead—a .22 caliber rifle
bullet which, lab men soon reported, had
been fired from the phantom sniper’s
weapon.
The investigation was renewed, the
patrols were reinforced and again the
sniper lapsed into inactivity. Not until
December 26, did another .22 bullet whirl
down his rifle barrel to speed out toward
an unsuspecting woman.
Mrs. Audrey Murdock was standing be-
fore her ironing board in the safety of her
home in Garvey when a window pane
shattered with a crash and a sharp pain
burned into her hip. Blood oozed onto her
clothing, she bit her lips against the
agony as she made her way to the tele-
phone. Hard on the heels of the doctor
came the police, followed by the untiring
Lieutenant Rosenberg.
Assured that Audrey Murdock’s life
was not in danger, Rosenberg questioned
her but found again that the target—No.
6 and the fifth woman to be hit—had no
information to give. Only the ballistics
department of the crime lab had any-
thing definite—again, a flawless match of
the Murdock bullet with those used by
the sniper on earlier occasions.
Rosenberg had been keeping two care-
ful charts—one mapping the locations of
the shootings. Garvey, he realized, was
the farthest point from the original crimes,
about ten miles from Norwalk. Yet
it was easily and rapidly reached via
Rosemead Boulevard, so location this
time was useless as a detection device,
as it had been’ before.
Rosenberg’s second chart proved
more interesting. This one showed loca-
tions, too—the locations of the wounds on
the bodies of the sniper’s victims. The first
woman had been shot just above the
hip, the second had almost been shot in
the head, the next—Nina Bice—was hit
in the face, the fourth in the elbow, the
fifth in the thigh, and now another in
the hip.
“Is there or isn’t there a pattern here?”
he asked Sergeant Dailey. Both sleuths
examined the chart closely.
The shot which had struck the young
student’s elbow might have been intended
for her hip but had hit the elbow instead,
only inches away. Nina Bice had been
shot in the face, her most fascinating
feature. The near-hit in the head had
been fired at a woman who was seated
inside her house—meaning a shot at her
lower body was impossible. Lieutenant
Rosenberg wondered if the sniper wasn’t
aiming at the mid-section, shooting
women out of some strangely distorted sex
motive.
The question was taken to some of
the most advanced psychiatrists in the
city. None had ever heard of a similar
psychological abnormality, but all agreed
it was possible the phantom sniper was
shooting women to satisfy a sadistic sex
impulse. Because of this, detectives began
to work through the files on sex criminals,
seeking records which included the use
of firearms in any way, since the noisy
weapon—the gun—is not the usual choice
of the sex maniac.
The first three months of 1952 passed
without event. Detectives assigned to the
sniper case wondered if Rosenberg had
hit the nail on the head so accurately that
his sex motive theory had panicked the
sniper into giving up his dangerous past-
> 7)
citedly told him: “I just got a report
from George Lacy in the crime lab. He
and Ray Pinker have been working on
those two slugs you sent in. It’s im-
possible to be positive because both of
them were mushroomed some, but
they’re pretty sure both shots were
fired from the same gun!”
So Price told Rosenberg about the
killing of Lyle’s dog.
“I'll try to get that slug and turn it
over to Pinker,” Rosenberg said. “In
the meantime, I’m bringing out some
men and we're going to look into these
cases closer. It sounds mighty funny
to me.”
Rosenberg drove out with Captain A.
V. England and Detective Sergeant
Richard Dailey of the Homicide Squad.
“It seems incredible that ‘the shoot-
ings could be connected in any way,”
Rosenberg said. “But we may have a
wild man loose out here with a gun.
Let’s find out.”
Captain England and Price decided
to reinvestigate the cases of Mrs.
Kreutzer and the Walters, while Rosen-
berg and Dailey drove out to see Lyle.
Rosenberg had Lyle go over the kill-
ing of his dog in minute detail. When
he finished, Rosenberg asked: “Was
anyone else in the house at the time?”
“My wife.”
“Where was she? In what room?”
Lyle recalled that his wife had been
in the kitchen at the time. “She was
right here at the sink doing something
because after I saw the fellow I asked
her if she had seen him, too, but she
hadn’t looked up in time.”
“The dog may have saved your wife’s
life,” Rosenberg said.
“Saved my wife's life? What do you
mean?”
“I think the man with the rifle had
planned to shoot your wife but was dis-
tracted by the barking of your dog.”
¥,
at a
“But why? Why would anyone want
to shoot my wife?”
Rosenberg told him of the other
shootings and said: “My idea is that
we have one of those snipers like they
had in the East awhile back. His
targets are good-looking young
women.” ;
“What if he comes back. What can
do?”
“I don’t think you need to worry. He
won’t come back here. But he will
strike elsewhere, and you're the only
person who has seen him. Try to re-
ae every detail you can about
Lyle cooperated to the fullest but he
had had only a fleeting glimpse of the
sniper. He was sure the man was young
and husky but he couldn’t supply, any
of the much-needed facial features.
[ ATER in the afternoon, Rosenberg
and Dailey met with Price and Eng-
land. They had canvassed the scenes
of the other shootings thoroughly with-
out finding any witnesses who had seen
the mysterious gunman.
Rosenberg called Pinker at the lab
and Pinker told him, “It’s almost im-
Possible to make a positive statement
without a test bullet fired from the
gun.”
“Okay, let’s not be positive. We can
worry about that later for coust evi-
dence. What’s your opinion?”
“They were all fired from the same
gun. If you can get me the gun so
I've got one test bullet, then I'll be able
to make it positive.”
When Rosenberg told the others of
the report from the lab, Captain Eng-
land said: “But it just doesn’t make
sense that the cases should be con-
nected.”
“The slugs say they were connected,”
Rosenberg declared. “All three shoot-
hs
Mrs. Joan Hiles: The Sniper's shot
missed her, hit this wall instead
Mr. and Mrs. Megrdle: When he
shot her, The Sniper didn't miss
ings have been out here in the East Los
Angeles area. They happened at the
same time of night and the biggest fac-
tor is that the victims are young, good-
looking women.”
“How about the dog?”
Rosenberg explained that he thought
Mrs. Lyle had been the sniper’s orig-
inal] target.
“But why?” Price insisted. ‘Where's
the connection between the women?
Why did the gunman pick them?”
Rosenberg shook his head. “That’s
the tough part. I don’t think he even
knew them.” :
Incredulously, Dailey asked: “You
The Mad Sniper of L. A.
mean we have a screwball loose aroi
here sniping at women?”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.”
The officers were deeply concerr
“How can we locate him?” Engl:
asked. “Lyle’s description isn’t g:
enough for a pickup. And we d
have a motive if there’s no tie betw:
the gunman and the victims.”
“I wish I had the answers to th
questions. This fellow has fired th
shots. We know he can handle a ri
It’s hard to tell what will happen w!
he fires the next time.”
Rosenberg reported to Sheriff }
gene W. Biscailuz of Los Angeles Co.
ty, giving him the details on the case
and requesting that every available
police car be put in the East Los An-
geles area.
The prowl-car officers were warned
to be on the lookout for a husky young
man in an old, black.sedan. Their or-
ders were: “Shake down for firearms
and hold anyone loitering or parked in
any residential community who does
not have a reasonable explanation for
his whereabouts.”
It was a big area to patrol. And the
officers weren’t sure just whom they
were looking for, other than that he
was a, gunman and he might strike
anywhere.
Would his next shot be through a
window? Or at someone on the street?
Or would he strike at all for the fourth
time? Was this just something Rosen-
berg had built up out of a series of
coincidences?
{NX THE Norwalk substation, Sergeants
Price and Dailey waited that night,
listening to the calls as they came in.
The three shootings had taken place
at about ten o'clock in the evening.
Price looked at his watch and said:
“It’s almost fifteen after now. Maybe
he’ll skip tonight.”
Dailey crushed out a cigaret. “If
there is such a thing as this Mad
Sniper. Ballistics didn’t say definitely
that those slugs were fired from the
same gun.”
“I hope they weren’t,” Price declared.
“How would you ever go about finding
a character like that?”
The call came in at 10:40 from an
open-air hamburger stand on South
Atlantic Boulevard in East Los Angeles.
A _ woman had been shot. She was
dead.
“Call Lieutenant Rosenberg and
Captain England!” Price shouted at
the switchboard operator as he and
Dailey dashed out of the station.
A silent, awe-stricken crowd had
formed a circle around the front of the
hamburger stand by the time the of-
ficers arrived. Sprawled on her back
16
beside one of the ~ stools was a
young woman dressed’in a sweater and
slacks. Her eyes were open and at a
first glance she seemed to be just rest-
ing.
But she wasn’t.
“She’s dead,” a breathless man told
the detectives. “I was sitting right be-
side her and she toppled off that stool
dead. The bullet hit her behind the
ear.”
The man gave his name as William
Hanna.
“Do you know her?” Price asked.
“No. I was just sitting here and she
came along and sat down next to me.
That girl was with her.” He pointed
to another young woman in slacks.
“Did you see who fired the shot?”
Dailey asked Hanna. -
“Nope, but I heard it. It sounded
just like a firecracker. It popped and
this girl—she had a cup of coffee in her
hand—she dropped the cup and then
she slumped over and fell off the stool.”
“Didn’t you look around?” Dailey
pleaded. “Didn't you see anyone?”
“Sure, I looked around. You can see
the whole street from there on the
stool. Not a soul was in sight.”
“Did a car pass at the time the shot
was fired?”
“I didn’t see one. Honest, I didn’t
see anybody. I can’t figure where the
shot could have come from.”
“Stick around here,” Dailey said.
“We'll want to talk to you later.” /
Price and Dailey walked over to the
girl in the slacks who was brushing
tears from her cheeks with a handker-
chief. She gave her name as Betty
DeGardo. The dead girl, she said, was
Mrs. Nina Marie Bice, a 25-year-old di-
vorcee and the mother of three small
children.
“We were just on our way home and
we stopped for a hamburger and cof-
fee,” Miss DeGardo said. “We were sit-
ting here when Nina dropped her’ cup
and fell off the stool.”
“Didn’t you hear a shot?”
“I heard something pop.
know it was a shot.”
I didn’t
“Did you look around? Did you see
anyone?”
“I guess I looked around but I don’t
remember seeing anybody. I tried to
pick Nina up; I thought she’d fainted
or something. But blood was running
down her neck behind her ear. Then
some people came by and somebody
said she had been shot ‘and she was
dead.
“I just can’t believe it.”
A NUMBER of police cars had pulled
up in the street and the crews were
waiting for instructions. Price told
them: “We can’t find anybody who saw
anything. Keep moving around in the
district. If this is the fellow we think
it is, he’s a big, husky man driving an
old black sedan. That isn’t much of a
description but it’s all we have right
now.”
Lieutenant Rosenberg, Captain Eng-
land, Chief of Detectives Gordon Bow-
ers and Homicide Inspector Garner
Brown arrived at the scene. Price and
Dailey gave them a quick rundown on
the information they had been able to
gather.
Chief Bowers asked Hanna and Miss
DeGardo to take their places on the
stools at the lunch counter exactly as
they’d been at the time of the shot.
“Now, how was Mrs. Bice facing?”
the Chief asked Hanna.
“I can’t be sure, but I think she was
looking straight ahead. I know she had
a coffee cup in her hand and was either
drinking or starting to drink, because
she dropped it.”
“Is that right?” Bowers asked Miss
DeGardo.
“She was facing toward me a little,”
Miss DeGardo said. “We were talking.
She didn’t have the cup to her lips yet;
she was just sort of holding it up get-
ting ready to drink but she was still
talking.”
Using one of the officers as a model,
Bowers placed him in the position Mrs.
Bice had occupied at the moment the
shot was fired. Then, figuring out the
trajectory of thé bullet, Bowers said:
Audrey Murdock, another the qunman
wounded, and at left, the accused,
coatless, with Deputy DA Alexander
“Whoever fired the shot must have
been across the street about where
those garages are. Did anybody here
See a man over there?”
The counterman hadn’t seen any-
thing; his back had been turned and
he was bending over the range frying
a hamburger. Neither Miss DeGardo
nor Hanna could recall seeing anyone.
The morgue crew arrived then and
Mrs. Bice’s body was taken away with
instructions for an immediate autopsy.
“I want that slug the minute I can have
it,” Bowers said. “We'll put it through
the lab and have it compared with the
others.”
Hanna was dismissed after the de-
tectives were satisfied that he had not
known Mrs. Bice previously and had
told them all he could recall about the
shooting.
Miss DeGardo was taken to the Nor-
walk substation where she was quizzed
at great length about every phase of
Mrs. Bice’s private life.
She gave them the name of Mrs.
Bice’s former husband and told them
where he could be located. She also
supplied the name of a young man who
was interested in Mrs. Bice and the
names of several acquaintances.
Bowers immediately sent men out to
. locate these persons.
He dispatched others to the neigh-
borhood where Mrs. Bice lived and to a
neighborhood from which she had
moved recently. “I want to know
everything there is to know about that
woman,” he told his men. “By morn-
ing, I want a list of everybody she’s
ever even spoken to, if it’s possible.
Dig in and find out everything you can
about her—where she’s been, what she’s
done, who she’s seen. Everything. And
I want it in a hurry.” .
Mrs. Bice’s former husband and her
present boy friend had ironclad alibis
for the time she had been shot. Both
were deeply shocked by her death and
neither could offer anything in the way
of a motive.
WEEN Bowers had finished taking
their statements, Lieutenant
Rosenberg told him: “I think you're
going to find that this is another one
we can mark up to that crazy sniper.”
“Maybe,” Bowers said. “But we
aren’t going to take any chances of
going on a limb like that. This could
be the way the killer planned it.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean he went around Popping at
the others without doing much damage
so that when he killed this girl we'd
look for a screwball while he got away
with it.”
Rosenberg shook his head. “That's
a little far-fetched. I mean, building
up a case like that before a killing.
Men who Kill don’t plan that far
ahead.”
“Except here
Bowers said.
in Los. Angeles,”
“Just remember, Holly-
wood is the film capital of the world. -
Somebody is always dreaming up a new
plot out there. And we’ve had some
pretty wild real ones all along. I'll go
for the mad gunman thing only after
I’m darn sure that nobody in this wo-
man’s life had a motive for killing her.”
A dozen detectives were assigned to
delve into Mrs. Bice’s past. A score
more men canvassed the district where
the shooting had taken Place, trying to
locate anyone who had seen a man with
a gun.
And as another evening came on, the
areas around Los Angeles were stripped
of police-car protection to put every
available officer in the East Los An-
geles section.
Would The Mad Sniper strike again?
The newspapers had picked up the
story and were carrying headlines.
Residents of the suburban communities
huddled in their homes with the cur-
tains drawn. Women were warned to
stay off the street after dark.
(Continued on Page 56)
‘
somehow, T can't pleture Dwight Hos-
Kins as a petty holdup man.”
“I can’t either, but where’s his gun?
And why does he keep bobbing up in
front of us in this investigation?”
“I know. But I can’t Picture him
shooting a man in the back, or in any
other way.”
The officers thanked Mrs. Freeman
for her help and once more drove to
the home of Gladys Boyce. They
didn’t waste any time on preliminaries;
they had reached the stage now where
they had to gamble,
“We just talked to Hoskins,” Harper
said. “It seems like you knew him a
lot better than you let on before,
Gladys.”
“Why? What did he say? What did
he tell you?” s
“You saw him last week, didn’t you?
Say, about last Wednesday night? The
night Freeman was murdered.”
Suddenly the last vestige of self-
control in the girl was gone. “I didn’t
have anything to do with it—I swear
I didn’t!” she cried. “They came here
early Thursday morning and threatened
me and my family if I wouldn't hide
the gun for them!”
“That does it,” Harper said. “Who
are they?”
“Didn't Dwight tell you?”
“Suppose you just sit down and give
us the whole story. And I mean all of
it.”
Gladys Boyce told her story as though
she were glad to get it off her chest.
She had known Hoskins and he had in-
troduced her to a friend several days
before the shooting.
Early Thursday morning, Hoskins
and this friend had come to her home
and threatened her and her family.
She had been so frightened she had
consented to hide a gun for them,
against her better judgment.
“What did you do with it?”
“I buried it on a side road out near
the Canyon Airport.”
“Can you find it?”
os S,” she whispered, “I'll be glad to,
Only don’t tell them I told you,
Please! They'll kill me!” -
The officers drove the girl to the spot
a mile east of the Canyon Airport,
which is seventeen miles south of Ama-
rillo. There, in a few minutes, Gladys
Boyce found the gun for them, buried
beside a fence row.
Harper immediately sent the gun to
Austin for a ballistics test.
“Now,” King said, “we can pick up
Trailing The Mad Sniper of L. A.
Chief Bowers set up a system at the
Norwalk substation so that any area
could be surrounded by cruising cars
the instant a shooting was reported.
Throughout the night, Bowers, Brown
and England waited tensely. But for
the first time in four successive nights,
The Mad Sniper did not Strike.
Early the next morning a report came
in from the lab. Certain marks in the
lands and grooves of the bullet that
killed Mrs. Bice resembled the marks
on the other slugs. And all were .22.
But the evidence was not conclusive.
The detectives continued to probe
into Mrs. Bice's life. Friends and ac-
quaintances were interviewed. Not one
could suggest a reason why the young
woman had been killed.
On the next night, the same precau-
tions were taken by the Police to guard
the communities against the mysterious
gunman. But his gun was silent. A
third, fourth and fifth night passed
with no report from him.
Had he stopped? Was the killing of
Mrs. Bice the climax of his shooting
spree?
Bowers called in all
tors for a conference. They went over
every detail that had been unearthed,
trying vainly to find some pattern in the
shootings and the killing that would
tell thém who the gunman was or what
his motive had been.
of his investiga-
W5HEN they finished, Bowers summed
it all up by saying: “It’s one of two
things. Either some fellow just decided
to shoot at women and after he killed
Mrs. Bice he was satisfied, or somebody
figured out a clever plot to confuse us
with the first shootings and had Mrs.
Bice in mind all the time as the real
victim.”
Bowers refused to let the investiga-
tion slacken, although weeks went by
without any new shootings being re-
Ported. A file on his desk grew thick as
his men brought in reports on every
person Mrs. Bice ever had known. Each
person was investigated, each alibi veri-
fied, not only for the time of Mrs. Bice’s
killing but also for the times of the
other shootings.
At the end of a month’s intensive in-
vestigation, Bowers was convinced that
Mrs. Bice had been slain without any
logical motive. She had been a victim,
like the others, only because she was a
g00d-looking young woman.
But how find a Mad Sniper who
killed without reason?
Bowers talked to the ballistics men
again. They could give him no sugges-
tion on how to trace the gun from the
slugs.
56
The only person who had glimpsed
the gunman was Lyle and his descrip-
sei Was SO vague it was almost worth-
ess.
Then, early on the morning of Oc-
tober 16, ten-year-old Patricia Ellen
Bryant, daughter of Doctor A.L. Bryant
of East Florence Avenue, Downey, was
waiting alone on a street corner for a
bus. A .22 bullet smashed into her right
forearm, breaking the bone. Only ‘the
fortunate circumstance that Patricia
had her hand up fixing her hair kept
the bullet from striking her in the heart
and killing her. °
She had not seen the person who had
fired the shot.
Not another soul had been on the
street at the time. The detectives could
find no one who had seen @ man witha
gun anywhere in the district.
The bullet was added to those in the
crime lab.
much by the impact that it was use-
less for comparison although tech-
nicians were certain it was a .22.
Was the shooting of the ten-year-old
girl an added coincidence or was it the
grown young
boggy and his attacks had come after
ark.
Another month went by, during which
time Sergeants Price and Dailey were
assigned full time to the case. They
spent endless hours running down ru-
mors’ and ' questioning youths who
owned .22 rifles. Always they ended at
the same blank wall.
THEN on the bright, sunny morning
‘of November 23 Mrs. Irma Alice
Meerdle was working in the front yard
of her home on Miller Row in Rivera,
fixing some flower beds. As she bent
over, a shot struck her in the thigh.
Again, only a quirk of fate Saved her.
At almost the moment the shot was
fired, she had straightened from a
stooping position. Otherwise the shot
— have entered her head, killing
er.
Price and Dailey were on the scene
almost immediately. They determined
that the shot had been fired from an
orange grove adjoining the Meerdle
home.
They found several foot-prints in the
soft soil beneath the trees, big prints
that must have been left by a large
man.
Moulages were made but the soil was
so dry it had not retained any of the
defects or markings of the shoes that.
Hoskins, and I’d like to see him try
to wiggle out of this,”
Harper agreed. “1 still find it hard
to believe—a young man like Hoskins,
who had such a good start in life, turn-
ing to robbery and murder!"
“It’s probably his first crime,” King
said. “I think maybe I can understand
it. Freeman recognized him and said
—e about him being a football
ero.
**VA/ELL, you can see how that would
make him feel. He Probably told
Freeman to shut up, said something
like, ‘Don’t ever call me a hero,’ and
= madder and madder and just shot
m.”
Hoskins was arrested in a cafe and
was brought to- Police Headquarters.
He claimed that the gun ‘did not be-
long to him and denied knowing any-
thing about the holdup. .
“Why do you keep picking‘on me?”
he asked.
However—ballistics tests from Aus-
tin showed that the German ‘Luger
Gladys Boyce buried by the Canyon
Airport was used to kil] Charles Free-
man. Harper and King found three
other witnesses, including the man who
had sold it to him, who Positively iden-
tified Hoskins as the owner of the death
gun,
The two escapees, Buzard and Moss,
were recaptured and*have been cleared
in connection with the service-station
holdup, as has Pete, Miles. Buzard and
Moss since have been released from
prison, their debt to society paid.
Hoskins was brought to trial in De-
cember, 1949, with District Attorney
Lloyd King and Assistant DA Branch
Archer prosecuting. The former foot-
ball hero was found guilty of murder
and sentenced to 35 years in the peni-
tentiary. Before he could be taken to
Huntsville, however, he, too, broke out
of the Potter County Jail. He was cap-
tured a few blocks away and the only
result was an additional sentence of
two years.
The friend who supposedly had been
with Hoskins was found and adjudged
not guilty of any connection with a
crime. Miss Boyce, who had been act-
ing in mortal fear of her life, was pub-
licly commended for her help and given
an award,
The names Peter Miles and Gladys
Boyce are fictitious as used in this story
to protect the identities of innocent per-
sons.
Read I¢ First In
‘(Continued from Page 16) OFFICIAL DETECTIVE STORIES
would have been valuable in tracing
hem.
Chief Bowers, with Brown, England
and Rosenberg, attacked the case with
renewed vigor. They were convinced
now that they were dealing with just
one criminal. The Similarity of the
shootings ruled out the chance of
coincidence.
‘ Bowers told his men: “With the ex-
ceptiori of Mrs. Bice, the victims have
all been lucky. The sniper has shot to
kill but some little thing has happened
each time to throw off his aim, And
undoubtedly he will go on shooting until
we get him.”
But how?
War could the detectives do that
they hadn’t already done?
How could they watch for his next
attack, when they didn’t know whether
it would come in the morning or the
evening,
ambush
streets?
Baffled, Chief Bowers took his prob-
lem toa group of leading Los Angeles
Psychiatrists. He gave them all the
details on the shootings, saying: “We
know we are up against a clever crim-
inal. How are we going to find him?
What can we do to keep him from kill-
ing someone else?”
After studying the Cases, One pyschia-
trist announced: “We believe the man
you are looking for is a sadist with a
superabundance of curiosity. He has
done these things in a spectacular man-
ner and they have not been on impulse
but most likely carefully planned.”
“Okay,” Bowers said. “Now, what
does that mean in the terms of a police-
man? What do we do?”
The attacks Probably would take
Place roughly one month apart, the
doctor said. The main clue for Bowers,
however, was in the doctor’s observa-
tion that the man had @ superabun-
dance of curiosity. “It is a part of that
type of mania,” the Psychiatrist de-
clared. “You will find that he is very
likely lurking in the background after
the shooting, gloating over his injury
to the victim.”
Chief Bowers called his men in and
told them of
there’s another one of these shootings,
I want everybody within a mile of
place rounded up and held for question-
ing. I don’t care who they are or what
kind of a reason they have for
in the vicinity, I want them held and
The doctors were correct on the first
part of their observation. Just a few
days more than a month later the next
shooting occurred,
On December 26 Mrs, Audrey Mur-
dock was ironing in the kitchen of her
home on North Delta Avenue in Garvey
when a shot crashed through the
window and struck her in the side.
It was a painful although not serious
wound. And once again, it unquestion-
ably had been aimed for the heart but
either through faulty aim or some
movement of Mrs. Murdock it had
missed its target.
Bowers was ready. Quickly his men
surrounded the neighborhood. The
sirens of the ambulance and police cars
collected a crowd in front of the house.
everyone within
several blocks for questioning.
Names and addresses were taken, and
the persons was
Their stories of why they
were in the neighborhood, where they
had been going and what they were do-
rapidly by court
Later, Bowers would have each state-
ment investigated.
In the meantime, the bullet from
Mrs. Murdock’s body went to the crime
lab. It was marked and put with the
others, Microscopic examination
showed the same generhl resemblances
to the others.
Days went by while Officers investi-
gated each of the statements taken from
the persons who had been near the
scene of the shooting. When they were
finished, however, not one story had a
flaw,
It was disappointing, but to Bowers
it had not been futile. “We've got that
list now,” he told his men. “We'll do
the same thing if this sniper strikes
again. If any of the Persons on this
list shows up again, they’re going to
reg a rough time talking their way out
of it.”
But that
struck again.
Would another person die before he
could be caught?- ;
Day by day, the detectives plugged
‘away at the case. And with each Pass-
ing day, the time of the next shooting
drew closer. At the end of a month, the
detectives were working feverishly, for
they knew that, if the doctors’ predic-
tion were right, they were on the verge
of another shooting.
However, the month Passed. And
then another.
Had The Mad Sniper finally finished
his raids?
meant waiting until he
ATL TE TS RETR ET IS
At the end of two months, Bowers
called in his men for another con-
ference. “I’ve got a theory,” he told
them. “We questioned a lot of people
after Mrs. Murdock was shot. Since
that time, no one has been shot. I
think we caught the killer in our net
that time but he got away from us. He’s
afraid to strike again because if we
catch him a second time he knows he’s
done for.
“I want all of those persons ques-
tioned again. I want to find out if any
of them owns or has access to a gun.
I want to know not only what they were
doing on the night Mrs. Murdock was
shot, but also where they were and what
they were doing at the times of all the
other shootings.”
Going over the list, Bowers assigned
one name to each deputy. “Question
their friends and the people who work
with them. Find out what their habits
are and everything you can about them.
Take down every detail you get,
whether it seems to have anything to
do with the shootings or not. I want
to know every one of those persons
better than they know themselves.”
It was a big assignment and it meant
a lot of overtime work for the investiga-
tors, for the regular business of the de-
partment had to go on as usual. The
men worked long hours after their
regular shifts, going to friends and ac-
quaintances of the persons on their list,
asking questions.
The details were given to Chief Bow-
ers to study.
Four months after Mrs. Murdock had
been shot, and nearly eight months
after Mrs. Bice was killed, a new report
of a shooting came in to the Norwalk
Substation at 10:40 on the Tuesday eve-
ning of April 15, 1952.
Mrs. Joan Frances Hiles told officers
that a bullet had been fired through the
living-room window of her home on
Pioneer Boulevard in Norwalk.
The plan previously set up by Bowers
was put into action at once. While
Sergeants Price and Dailey went to the
house, more deputies were sent out to
surround the area and question every-
one in the vicinity about why they were
there at that particular time.
At the house, Price and Dailey found
Mrs. Hiles to be a good-looking young
woman wearing slacks, a sweater and a
colorful ribbon in her hair. A big man
in a checkered shirt stood behjnd her.
Asked about the bullet, Mrs. Hiles
said, “It would have killed me. If I
hadn’t moved jus¢ a minute before, it
would have killed me.”
She crossed the room and pointed to
a davenport against the wall. “I always
curl up there so I’m not too close to the
television screen. I was sitting there
right until a minute or two before the
shot came in the window.”
The window was at the end of the
davenport. Price lined up the bullet
hole in the pane with the spot where
the slug had struck the wall. Un-
questionably that bullet would have hit
Mrs. Hiles squarely in the head if she
had been sitting on the davenport.
“I don’t know why I got up,” Mrs.
Hiles said. “I just happened to cross
the room. Maybe I went to get the
paper or something; I can’t remember
now. I heard the shot and then I saw
the plaster fall off the wall. I didn't
even know whece the shot came from.”
THe man in the checkered shirt said
solemnly: “It must have been God’s
will that she moved.”
“Are you Mister Hiles?” Price asked.
“No. My name is Thomas, Evan
Thomas, I live next door. George is at
work—he’s Mister Hiles. When I
heard the shot, I called to make sure
that everything was all right and then
I came right over.”
“You heard the shot—did you see
anyone?”’
“No. I was on the other side of our
house in the kitchen making myself a
lunch. I work for the railroad and I go
to work at midnight.”
Mrs. Hiles said, “He was here only a
few minutes before.”
Thomas hurriedly added: “It’s okay,
you see, We've been neighbors for quile
awhile and George knows 1 come over
sometimes. I’m married and I've got a
couple of kids, but my wife’s away for
a week or so.”
“How long after Thomas left was
the shot fired?” Daily asked.
“It couldn’t have been more than
five minutes.”
“That's right,” Thomas said. “Just
about five minutes. As soon as I got
home I started to make the sandwiches
and then I heard the shot.”
“When you left the house, did you see
anyone outside?”
“No. I guess I wasn’t particularly
looking for anyone.”
The detectives went outside. Under
the glare of their flashlights, they could
see approximately where The Mad
Sniper had stood. The grass was
gave reasonable explanations of their
whereabouts and none of them were
listed among the persons who had been
on the scene at the time Mrs. Murdock
was shot.
TE Mad Sniper had struck again.
And once more he had disappeared
as mysteriously as before.
Lieutenant Rosenberg came out to.
the substation early the next morning
to talk the case over with Price and
Dailey. They gave him all the details
on the work they had done during the
night.
“Bowers’ theory didn’t hold up, or
else the gunman got by the cars we had
out,” Dailey told him. “We shook
#33
Aa ta Mp
am
gm.
we a:
Her snapshot album holds few mementoes of Shirley
McBeth's life with a wife-killer. Turn to Page 28
crushed and a cigaret stub lay on the
ground,
“Maybe he stood here waiting for
some time,” Price said, putting the
cigaret stub in an evidence envelope.
“We'll send the boys from the lab out
here, although I doubt if they can get
any impressions from that grass.”
A cruising car pulled up in front.
“Have you found anyone?” Price
asked the driver.
“Not a soul.” i
“Keep cruising the district. Be sure
and question anyone you see. It’s an-
other,of those Mad Sniper cases.”
The two sergeants went back into the
house, Price asked Thomas: “While
you were over here, where were you
sitting?”
“Down at that end of the davenport.”
It was bg to the window. “Mrs. Hiles
was sitting at thig end, but when I got
up to leave she moved down to where
I’d been.”
“That clinches it,” Price declared.
“The gunnran was out there waiting.
He couldn’t shoot at Mrs. Hiles while
you were in the way.”
“But why would anyone want to
shoot me?” Mrs. Hiles asked.
“Only because you are young and
pretty,” Price said. He told them
about The Mad Sniper. Both Mrs, Hiles
and Thomas had read about him in the
papers.
George Hiles was notified of the at-
tempt to kill his wife and hurried home.
He was questioned by the detectives but
could add nothing to the investigation,
‘The crulaing cars in the aren were able
to pick up only four persons who
were anywhere near the scene, All four
down everybody in the neighborhood;
we couldn’t have slipped up.”
“This Mrs. Hiles doesn't know any of
the previous victims?” Rosenberg
d
“No. We went over that with her.
She doesn’t even live close to any of:
them.”
Price said: “I wonder how much
longer our luck will hold out. Mrs.
Hiles moved just before the shot was
fired. Remember, the last time. he
missed was when he shot at Walter.
He came back the next night and killed
Mrs. Bice.”
“Let’s go out and see if we can pick
up anything at the scene,” Rosenberg
— “We've got to get a break some-
place.”
At the house, Price and Dailey showed
Rosenberg where The Mad Sniper had
stood when he shot through the
window. “You can see he would have
hit her right in the head if’ she had
been sitting there,” Price said.
Dailey added: “And he stood here for
awhile waiting. We figure the reason
was that Thomas, the next-door neigh-
bor, was sitting in the line of fire be-
fore he left to go home.”
Rosenberg studied the bullet hole in
the window thoughtfully. Then he
went into the house, with the detec-
tives following him.
The Lieutenant went to the window
and studied a hole in the drape. Then
he pulled it so that the material covered
the window, and the hole in the drape
lined up with the hole in the window
pane,
“Get Mrs. Hiles,” he told Price.
Mrs, Hiles came into the room,
Pa i Se Mao
“Was this drape pulled over when tl
shot was fired?” Rosenberg asked her
“Yes. I’m sure it was. I alwa:
close the drapes in the evening.”
“It wasn’t closed when we arrived
Price said.
“I think Mister Thomas pulled
back so he could see the broke
window,” Mrs. Hiles said. “I didn
know where the shot had come fror
All I saw was the plaster falling fro:
the wall. He figured out that it mu
have come through the window.”
“How long had the drapes bec
pulled across the window before tl!
shot was fired?” Rosenberg asked.
“All evening, I think.”
“I'd like to know for sure,” Roser
berg said.
Mrs. Hiles thought it over. “I thin
I pulled them at the time I turned th
television set on. That was about si
o’clock, or maybe a little after. I re
member it was still light out and
wanted to darken the room so I coul
see the screen better.”
“Now, tell me about this neighbo:
Thomas.”
George Hiles, who had come into th
room and was standing behind his wif«
said: “Thomas is a country hick wh
came to the big city He’s a little dum
but he’s harmless.”
“Do you know if he owns a gun?”
“I don't think so. I've never see)
him with one and he’s never mentione
owning one.”
Rosenberg and the detectives left th.
use.
OUTSIDE, Price asked, “Why all thi
business about Thomas?”
Rosenberg walked around to the sid:
of the house and pointed to the windov
with the drape pulled across it.
“If you were standing out here, hov
could you know who was inside tha
room or where he was sitting?”
The drape completely cut off an)
view into the room.
Rosenberg went on: “As far as I car
figure, the only person who knew Mrs
Hiles was in there, and where she hac
been sitting on the davenport, wa:
Thomas. He had left the room onl)
five minutes before.”
Rosenberg, Price and Dailey returnec
to the Norwalk substation, where
Rosenberg called in his report to Chie!
Bowers.
“Where is Thomas now?” Bower:
asked.
“He’s working as a switchman at the
Los Angeles Junction Railroad yards
He ought to be just about through
work.”
“Have him picked up and brought in
to the Norwalk station. But don’t tell
him why. I'll be out as quickly as ]
can.”
Bowers arrived with Brown, England
and Chief Deputy District Attorney
Adolph Alexander.
“I think you’re on the right track,”
Bowers told Rosenberg. “But it's thin.
I'd hate to go into court with nothing
more than that curtain over the
window business. Let me question this
fellow, Thomas.”
Thomas was brought into the room
with the investigators.
For a long time, Bowers questioned
Thomas.
Later he came out of the room and
made a statement to newspapermen in
which he claimed that Thomas had ad-
mitted firing the shot at Mrs. Hiles as
well as at all the others.
BOWERS said that first he told
Thomas about the closed drape and
the fact that a person who hadn't been
in the house couldn’t have known where
to fire to hit Mrs. Hiles. Thomas
thereupon admitted that he had done
this shooting, Bowers claimed.
The Chief of Detectives said that he
then told Thomas ballistics tests quite
Possibly could prove that all bullets had
come from the same gun and Thomas
thereupon admitted the other shoot-
ings, including the fatal shot fired at
Mrs. Bice.
“I don’t know whether you will
understand it or not.” Chief Bowers
quoted Thomas as saying. “You see,
my wife went away to visit her folks
and T wan honie alone TP got lonely in
57
Pete went back to Ainsworth. “We'll
have to leave Mrs. Ainsworth right’
where she is until the sheriff and the
coroner arrive from Yreka,” he said. “TI
think the best thing you can do is just
lock up the store. I’m going to town
where I can use a telephone.”
He drove back to his office and called
Canby. The police there had set up the
blockade as requested but no one had
gone through it yet.
“What time did you get up?” Peder-
sen asked.
“A little after half-past six. Just as
soon as the ambulance driver called us.”
It was after seven now. The car
should have reached Canby.
But possibly the youths had really
moved and made Canby ahead of the
blockade. If so, they couldn’t have
reached either Alturas, to the east, or
the junction with Highway No. 89 yet.
Pete still had plenty of time to head
them off at those points.
By telephone, he had the new block-
ade stations set. .
Next, he went over to Dave Ward's
home. He told the hardware merchant
about the murder and asked about the
youth who might have stolen the radio.
“It was Wednesday afternoon when
he was in,” Ward said. “And the fellow
you describe who shot the woman sure
sounds like him. He didn’t have on the
polka-dot shirt but he did have those
Mexican shoes and his pants rolled up.”
Ward had one more significant thing
to say. “He was awfully interested in
the guns I have in stock. He kept look-
ing at the pistols and asking the prices.”
“Are you sure he didn’t steal one?”
“He didn’t get away with a gun, but
I'd almost swear he stole the radio.”
Where had the youth been, from
Wednesday until Friday night?
Wad he driven on north into Oregon
and stopped at the State Line Grocery
cn the trip back? Or had he been hang-
ing around Tulelake somewhere?
Ward didn't recall any old, black
sedan around town. He had asked some
The State Line Grocery shortly after the murder. Mrs.
Ainsworth's body is in foreground, covered with blanket
of the other merchants about the youth,
thinking they might have had some
merchandise stolen, too, but none of the
others had noticed him.
Pedersen said: “I’ve got the descrip-
tion of the radio and the serial num-
bers. The kid may have pawned it and
it may give us a lead yet—if he’s the
same one,” :
Pete drove home, where his wife
brought the warmed-over dinner out of
the oven. After he had eaten, he called
Canby again. The blockade hadn’t seen
the car. Neither had officers at Alturas,
or at the junction with Highway No. 89.
He called Redding, further west, and
asked the sheriff there to set up an ad-
ditional road block.
The car should have reached the
blockade points: by now.
Had it slipped by?
At 10:30 Sheriff Ben Richardson of
Siskiyou County. pulled into town.
Deputy Thorne West, District Attorney
Fred Burton, Coroner Lloyd Noble and
Doctor Gerald Cosgrove were with him:
They drove on out to the State Line
Grocery,
Pedersen gave them all the details on
the drive out. At the store, Burton took
statements from the witnesses and Doc-
tor Cosgrove and Coroner Noble exam-
ined the body. ,
“It looks like slugs from a twenty-
two,” Doctor Cosgrove said. “One of
them got her right through the heart.”
A thorough search of the store proved
Doctor Cosgrove’s observation correct,
for the slug that had ripped through
Ray Merrill’s leg had struck a cab-
inet and was found on the floor. It was
@ .22 caliber,
Coroner Noble announced that an in-
quest would be held the following day.
After conferring with Pedersen, he de-
cided to hold it in the city hall at’ Tule-
lake. The officers from Yreka would
stay over in the local hotel.
Sheriff Richardson told Pedersen:
“You did everything that could have
been done. .The descriptions of the
killers and the car are out and our only
chance now is that they will be spotted
and picked up. There isn’t much of
anything else you can
murder like this.”
When the officers returned to Tule-
lake, telephone calls were placed. to
Canby, Alturas, the junction with High-
way No. 89 and Redding. No one had
seen the killers or the car:
Pedersen was bitterly disappointed.
“It’s the only way out,”.he said. “And
they've had plenty of time to reach any
of those points by now.”
“Unless they abandoned the car and
picked up another one,” Sheriff Rich-
ardson reasoned. “Or, they might have
figured on a blockade. They could be
holing up someplace until the heat is
off. We’ve still got a chance’ of getting
them at those blockade points.”
When Pedersen finally got home-in
the small hours of the morning, he was
tired—but he couldn’t sleep.
Why hadn’t the murderers hit the
blockade points?
Where had the kid in the huarachos
been between Wednesday and Friday?
If they weren’t picked up at the
blockade points, would the stolen radio
give him a lead?
Questions and more questions spun
through Pedersen’s head. And when
he could blank out the questions and
close his eyes, he could see the pathetic
little Nguro of Claudia sobbing on the
veranda of the store.
Sleep was useless. . Pete got out of
do in a holdup |
bed, went to the kitchen and put on t
coffee pot. Sitting at the table with |
coffee and cigarets, Pete racked |
brain as the hands of the kitcl:
clock slowly crept around the face.
Of course, it wasn’t his case, real
It had happened out in the county. T!
Sheriff was here and he could forget »
But you don’t forget the sight of
sobhing little girl.
Besides, maybe it was partly his fau
If he had caught that punk after hx
stolen the radio in Dave’s store, may!
this thing would not have happened
Nobody would blame him—but th.
wouldn’t make any difference in t!
way he felt about it.
And _ when he -had been out at t!
store, Slim Ainsworth had said: “You
get them, won’t you? Poor Velsie—<s!
was the best wife a man ever had.”
Pete ground out a cigaret and we:
over to the stove to pour another c:
of coffee. He stirred in the sugar an
lighted another cigaret.
Suppose he was a G-Man, one
Hoover's boys, instead of just a sma!
town cop. What would he do? Wh:
‘could he do that he hadn’t alread
done? Sheriff Richardson said that |)
had done everything right out at th
scene. :
But there w@ that business aboi
the radio in Dave's store.
Then, slowly—almost like a movin¢
picture going on in his mind—it can:
to Pete. That kid hadn’t gone int
Dave's store to steal.a radio. He’d gon
in to get a gun. But Dave had watche
him too closely when they were aroun:
the guns, so on the way out he ha
taken the radio.
That was Wednesday. He and hy:
partner were probably planning a hol
up right then, but they had no gun
They probably didn’t get the guns unt
Friday. or they’d have pulled the stic!
up earlier,
Someplace on Friday, then, they
Picked up the guns.
(Continued on Page 46)
ane had Rivas reached the Lazy Day
0
Had Nelson met him by design or by
accident at the Pray tavern?
Why had the killer overlooked Nel-
son’s expensive diamond ring?
And of course, the two big questions:
Why had Nelson been murdered?
Who was Rivas? :
As he studied the questions, probing
into every bit of evidence for
something that might give him the
—* one point became obvious to
Olson. é
Rivas had~ rade an effort: to calf
senaes to hihself with the Mexican
dialec
Standish had mentioned the fact
that he thought the accent was phony.
Mrs. had noticed that a couple
of times Rivas had neglected to speak
with an accent,
' The answer to this, Olson believed,
was that Rivas was using the fact that
he was dark and swarthy to implant
the impression that he was a Mexican,
whereas he probably was not,
He had been wearing a fancy leather.
work belt. Leatherwork is a hobby of
inmates: Rivas, or- whatever-his-
right name might be, could be an
ex-con, - ;
If he only had finger-prints—
Driven by the Dead (Continued trom Page 39) opeic,
This time they went not only to taverns
and restaurants but also to other places
of business.
And finally a cigar-store attendant
said a man had come in about 10:30 p. .
m. for a package of cigarets.
“He was rumpled up and obviously
upset,” the clerk said. “He had been
in a fight and he said he’d had enough
of those corner brawls,”
his was not Sain, however. — His
customer, the cigar salesman stated,
mee’ cal man he had seen many
es.
“He works in a store about two blocks
down the way,” the clerk said. “He
‘mentioned something about trying to
break up a fight and said that one of
the men who were fighting scared him
when he tried to borrow @ gun.”
Sheriff Seifried jotted down the name
of the store, but found it closed,
The connection between this fight
and the death of Sain was theoretical
only, Nevertheless, the next morning
they were questioning the: man whose
description had been given them by the
cigar salesman. /
This man identified himself as Wil-
liam Brody and he repeated what the
cigar-store employe had told the
officers. ;
“Did you know the two men who were
fighting?” Seifried inquired. :
“One of them was this Ben -Sain,”
Brody said. “The other man was a guy.
Brody added that he had not learned
what the two were fighting about.
“Sain was awfully mad,” Brody con- ©
. “He was getting the worst of it
and asked if I knew where he could get
Without Fol-de-Rol or Fanfare (Continued trom Page
Where?
If the murder. had taken Place any-
where else than Tulelake, the answer
might have been a lot more difficult.
But in this isolated mountain region,
— are not available at too many .
places,
ably have pulled their stickups around
those towns,
The same thing would be true if
46 :
. they’d headed. north
Olson pushed back from his desk and
walked over to the window and looked
out to the snow-covered street, His
- mind went over every step of the inves-
tigation. If he had finger-prints, and
Rivas was an ex-convict, the prints
would be on file with the Federal
- Bureau of Investigation.
But he had looked everyplace.
Or had he? -
Olson got his coat and hat. He had
just one chance, one Place where Rivas
might have left his finger-prints.
Olson got into his car and drove out
to the Lazy Day Motel, where he put
his problem up to Mrs. Franks.
“Is there anything Rivas touched
when he was staying here that you
haven’t cleaned?” he asked. -
Mrs. Franks furrowed her forehead
in thought. “I’ve cleaned up the cabin
thoroughly. We don’t have much busi-
ness at this time of the year.”
“It’s terribly important,” Olson told
her. He explained that he thought
that Rivas might be an ex-convict and
that if so, his finger-prints would be
on file with the FBI.
He went on: “A description of the
man doesn’t do us much good, since
he’s’ obviously- left- this- part of the
country. But if we had his police picture
and finger-prints, we could trail him
no matter where he went.” .
beat it. I wanted no part of any shoot-
ing.”
Brody also related that the two men
had met near the cigar store and that
when he came out after buying the
cigarets Sain and his assailant had left,
“Do you know if the other = lived
asked,
Seifried’s next question concerned the
_— Had both men been driy-
4
“Sain’s car was near and I think an-
other car parked at the curb belonged
to the other fellow,” Brody replied.
Henning asked Brody if he caught
any of the remarks made by the slain
man and the stranger,
.“It seems that they were arguing
about women,” he replied. “I couldn’t
get all of the conversation.”
Brody also related that Sain had been
seen in Troy frequently on dates for
several years, off and on, although he
lived in Sidney.
Across the street from the cigar store
tween Sain and the unknown suspect.
Shortly after the incident, he said, two
Cars sped past.
“I’m pretty sure the two men who
oo gg fighting were in those cars,”
said,
SEIFRIED and Henning returned to
their car and reviewed the facts in
—the fight over a woman on West Main
Street. Th
and gone up to
i. a7 i in Me ip oa
. No, stood reason-——those
punks had _ been looking for guns.
They’d found some and then pulled
their stickup.
Only, they hadn’t taken any money,
be desperate now. On the lam
and needing money, they’d probably try
another holdup before long.
And with one murder under their
belt, why hesitate over another?
te looked up at the kitchen clock.
a
Mrs. Franks’ face q
der,” she said. “I just wonder,”
She led Olson out to the cabin Rivas
had occupied. “The da:
explained, “the light was out. It was
too high for me to reach, so he un-
screwed it. I think he laid it up on top
of the medicine cabinet. Maybe it’s
still there.”
They crossed the cabin.
The light globe was there.
A thin film of grease was on it and
the finger-prints could be seen by the
naked eye.
Olson rushed back to town with the
light globe. The prints came off
perfectly.
They were sent on to the FBI.
|= TOOK a week, but the report came
back with a ‘picture, cémplete physi-
cal description
had served
Prison terms in Iowa and South Dakota.
Mr. and Mrs. Franks and Farmer Alex
Strong: All of them, the Sheriff
claimed, felt fairly positive that the man
—— Meyer was the man known as
vas,
men who had been fighting had driven
out of Troy.
“We know the first name of the other
man, too,” Henning remiiided his boss,
“It’s Cecil. Not an ordinary handle for
‘ man. We ought to find him if he lives
ere.”
The officers also knew that the man
who did the shooting was armed with a
-22-caliber gun,
“Shooting from a moving car indi-
cates the man we want is an expert
shot,” the Sheriff theorized. “That's
probably the reason why he owns a
target gun—he likes shooting.”
But could they find a crack shot with -
the first name of Cecil? Sheriff Seifried
and Henning went to the city police
station where they read the records of
men who had been arrested before for
street fights. However, they found none
named Cecil. :
“We may have to wind up going
through the entire city for fellows
named Cecil and question all of them,”
Henning stated.
As the two left Police Headquarters,
Seifried seized his deputy by the arm.
“The boy! Remember? He said some-
thing about target practice with a man
named ‘Hug’.”
Seifried whirled about and ran back
into the police Station. In the city di-
rectory he found a Cecil Huggins, of
Madison Street, ;
However, Huggins was not there. At
his place of employment, they learned
that he had not shown up that day.
Patrolmen Harold L. Wagner and
Paul K. Kessler of the Troy Police De-
partment were staked out at Huggins’
address. Late that afternoon he put in
an appearance, : .
Seven-thirty, it said. No use going to
bed now. Besides, he was so filled with
coffee he felt like a water cask. He
might as well get to work,
PETE was waiting in front of- the
hardware store when Dave came to
unlock the door at 8:30.
“Up early, aren’t you, Pete?”
“I haven’t been to sleep,”
Dave raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t
let those city Slickers take you in
Poker, did you?”
y he came,” she.
Olson took his information to Prose-
cutor George J, Allen, Prosecutor Alle:
filed a-charge of first-degree murde:
against Richard Meyer, alias Juan
Rivas, and Meyer was indicted. Next,
Allen obtained a
charging Meyer with unlawful flight to
avoid prosecution, which Bave the
Federa] Bureau of Investigation juris-
diction in the case and enabled the long
arm of the Bureau to help search for
the wanted man.
Meyer went on the FBI wanted list.
His photograph and finger-prints went
out to the thousands of Places circu-
by the Bureau.
It took almost two years, but on
November 16, 1951, a
Joseph E. Thornton, special agent in
‘charge of the Boston office, sent out his
men. They missed Meyer but learned
he had left by bus for Portland, Maine.
They were waiting when he got off
the bus.
At this writing, Meyer is being held
in jail in Livingston following extra-
dition from Mairfe.
raigned and further
pending.
Read It First In
AL DETECTIVE STORIES
“I hear you were looking for me,” he
said when the two Policemen ap-
proached him. ‘
At Police Headquarters, he willingly
admitted that he had been in a fist
fight with Sain the night of the shoot- .
ing. However, he would tell the police
nothing more,
They'd quarreled over a woman both
men had been dating, Huggins said.
“Sain slapped me and I hit him with
a@ rock,” he declared. “Then Sain left.”
Huggins owned a Car, all right. In it,
Sheriff Seifried found Several ,22-cali-
ber cartridges. In his room, the Sheriff
APPARENTLY, the Sheriff claimed,
the two young men still had been
blazing mad when ‘they drove away
from the scene of the fist fight and they
had driven their cars north along Route
No. 25 in more or less of &@ race, with
first one car, then the other, drawing
ahead,
The fatal shooting, the Sheriff
claimed, had been done when the cars
were almost abreast and apparently the
second shot had killed Sain. _.
On September 24 Huggins was
charged with first-degree murder and
soon thereafter the grand jury re-
turned an indictment. He pleaded not
guilty and at this writing, further legal
moves are pending.
To protect the identities of two men
who were drawn into this investigation
William Brody and Gerald Fran-
not real but fictitious in this
name.
cis are
story.
Read It First In
19) OFFICIAL DETECTIVE STORIES
Pete shook his head. “The Sheriff
and the rest of them are over at the
hotel. I didn’t even stick around.”
side. “What’s on your mind?”
I keep a pretty
close eye on the guns. The Pistols are
in a locked showcase, Come on; I'll
make another check.”
They walked over to the sporting-
Federal warrant |
“What kind?"
“It don’t make no difference.”
Velsie opened the chest behind her
where the soft drinks were kept on Ice.
“We've got strawberry, lemon, root
beer—”
“Strawberry’s okay.”
Velsie turned around with the bottles
and almost dropped them. She was
looking at & gun.
The young man near the front of the
store no longer was interested in the
-ookie display. He too had produced a
sun,
At this moment, Magri came out of
he back room. :
“This is a stickup! Don’t nobody
nove!” said the gunman near the door.
Everyone complied.
This was the tableau as Slim Ains-
vorth came swinging up onto the
‘eranda and stepped inside. ‘
The gunmen whirled on him. ”
ena what goes on here?” Slim
sked. :
“Don’t you move, Mister,” the closer
unman warned.
Slim eyed the youth and the gun. His
ight fist clenched and slowly it moved
pward, ready to swing.
“I’m warning you, Mister!”
But Slim's fist still moved, like a
oiled spring. ‘ :
The roaring blast of an exploding
un filled the room. Across the store,
ay Merrill clutched at his thigh and
umped to the floor. :
Then, twice more, a gun roared.
The gunman at the ‘counter dashed
‘ross the store, leaping past Slim, who
as too horrified to move.
The second gunman followed. Slim
eard the grind of a starter, the roar
f an auto—and they were gone.
And Velsie Ainsworth was dead.
“HIEF PEDERSEN got most of this
~ story from the witnesses as Merrill
as being placed on a stretcher and
aded into the ambulance.
Through white lips taut with anger,
lim told Pete: “It would’a been differ-
it if I'd brought my shotgun in with
‘e. I'd ’a blasted both of them.” ;
Then Slim grasped Pete’s hand and
‘id, “You'll get ‘em, won’t you, Pete?
or Velsie—she was the best wife a
‘an ever had.” ,, :
Pete nodded. He couldn’t answer.
‘Mrs. Greer will take care of Claudia.
you don’t get those dirty rats, Pete—”.
“We'll get them,” Pedersen promised,
id it was a vow as solemn as if he had
s right hand on the Bible. “Slim, did
ou see their car?”
“A big, black sedan was parked out
ont when I came in.’ An old one.”
“What make?”
“Idunno, But it was old and big.”
Bill Curley interrupted. “Look, Pete,
I'd better get this fellow to the hospital.
He’s bleeding pretty bad.”
“Yeah, sure.”
* Curley closed the back door of the
ambulance,
“Bill,” Pete told him, “whén you get
in, call the sheriff in Yreka for me.
“There’s no phone out here.” -
“Sure. Anything else?”
“Yeah. Just a minute.” Pete called
over to Ellington, asked him if he had’
seen the car and knew which way it
was heading when it pulled away.
yr WAS going south,” Ellington re-
plied.
Pete returned to the ambulance.
“Call Canby. Ask them to put up a
‘road block. Two guys in ‘a big, old,
black sedan. , :
“One of them is wearing a blue sports
shirt with big, white polka dots. The
other one has kind of a khaki Army
jacket.” :
“Sure thing.” Curley eased out the
clutch and the ambulance with Merrill
in it headed for town.
Pete walked back to the store ve-
randa where the woman was still com-
forting the sobbing little girl. “You'd
better get her away from here,” he sug-
gested gently. “Are you the one who's
going to take care of her?” f
The woman nodded. In a voice
choked with compassion, she mumbled:
“She saw it all, the poor little tyke. She
was sitting right there and she saw her
mother. murdered.”
Pete patted the little girl’s head
tenderly. “Yeah. It’s rough. You'd
better take her away from here.” :
Although Chief Pedersen was only a
small-town copper he knew what had
to be done. He went about doing it
quickly and efficiently.
Most important at the moment were
the descriptions of the murderers and
the car they were in. They were strang-
ers and they were in flight. The prob-
lem was to stop them before they could
get very far away. .
Going south, Pete knew, the only
road through the mountains was High-
way No. 139. Canby was about 55 miles
away. The fastest and most reckless
driver couldn’t navigate the steep
climbs and sharp turns in anything
under an hour.
If they made it past Canby before the
blockade was set, then they had a choice
of going east to Alturas or west to the
junction with Highway No. 89. :
Pete walked over to Slim: Ainsworth
and put his hand on Slim’s shoulder.
“Did you ever see either of these fel-
lows before?”
Ainsworth shook his head numbly.
Seeing Velsie shot down had left him
stunned. “Why did they do it?” he
mumbled. He repeated the question,
“There wasn’t any reason for it. Velsie
didn’t even move.”
Pete crossed the veranda to talk with
Ellington. “Did you get a look at the
car?”
“Only when it was leaving.”
; “Wasn't it out there when you came
in?”
“I don’t think so. At least, I didn’t
notice it. I'd been inside for maybe ten
minutes before they came in.”
“Any idea what kind of a car it was?”
“An old one. An old black sedan. I
couldn’t be sure of the make. A Buick,
maybe, or a Packard, The body was
high, like the kind they made in the
thirties.”
Pete pressed for details: “Did you no-
tice anything special about either of
the fellows?"
“Yes—yes, I did,” Ellington drawled
hesitantly. “The one who killed Velsie,
the one in the polka-dot shirt, had on a
funny pair of shoes.” .
“What do you mean, ‘funny’?”
“They didn’t have any toes in them
and they were kind of woven out of
leather. They're Mexican shoes.”
“Huarachos?”
“That's them!” Ellington exclaimed.
“And he had his pants rolled away up,
and real loud-colored socks on.”
How had the slayors escaped,
with their only route sealed?
In Tulelake's Legion Hall, DA
Burton questions Dr. Cosgrove
“Do you think the fellow was Mexi-
can?”
Ellington shook his head.
Tulelake is pretty far north for the
Mexican influence. Around Los Angeles
or San Diego, the young fellows often
wear such shoes.
Then Pete remembered.
A couple of days before, Dave Ward
had called Pedersen to his hardware
store in town. Someone had. pilfered a
small radio. He and Dave had talked
- over possible suspects and the only per-
son Dave could recall who hadn’t been
one of his regular customers was a
youth who had come in and looked
around without buying anything.
Dave had mentioned that the youth
was wearing huarachos.
If the killer was the same one who
had stolen the radio, it was a break. It
told Pedersen that the murderers hadn’t
been just passing through the Tulelake
district. They'd been around for a cou-
ple of days. ‘
Someone might recall seeing them.
Or, more important, someone might
recall the exact make of car they were
driving. ‘
, | Post office and store—the
entire town of Pray, Mont.,
where a killer appeared on
foot. See story on Page 20
seen the two whom Bragg claimed had
, Stolen his gun, ;
! The description of one of the men,
the one in the polka-dot shirt with the
. Mexican huarachos, convinced Pedersen
. that Bragg was telling the truth.
-, - It fitted Pete's earlier theory, too,
about the stickup that ended with mur-
der. They had stolen their first gun on
Wednesday, but they hadn’t Picked up
. the second gun until Friday morning.
The stickup and murder came early
Friday evening. :
Bragg told him the men were driving
~ & LaSalle sedan of a late thirty model.
The others in the camp verified this,
: ke one, however, knew the license num-
ers, - :
GETTING the make of the car was a
: big help. But Pete’s mind went
". back to the question that had bothered
him all night. Why hadn't the car run
into the road blockades?
Surely the fellows on the road blocks
wouldn’t have let a 1930 LaSalle
.through with the description they had
“of the big, older, black Sedan. And the
‘ Gescriptions of the two killers was ‘good,
“too, A :
,_ ‘The only answer was that they hadn’
.gone as far as the “blockades. Where
were they then?
Near by were hundreds of miles of
the barren lava beds. Close to Canby
-were the Fairchild Swamps. And up in
the higher mountains was the Modoc
National Forest, They had plenty of
Places to hide out: if they abandoned
: foot.
section. Dave opened a drawer there isn’t any connection, but I’m 80- of the old Japanese Relocation Center; ae pier eter Bie socks,
and pulled out a book. “I put the num- ing to find out.” Pedersen had worked as a guard at the - m i uarachos, might
bers down in this when the guns arrive. Ben Krieger’s farm was out near the center during the war. Most of it was toe miele - dark Shes, but
When I make a sale, I fill out the regis- Clear Lake flats. It was a good half- closed now, but the government had re- put them out in the woods at night and
tration form. You know, I send you hour drive. Pete had time to think over opened a few of the buildings for the it would be a different story. They'd be
one and one goes to Sacramento and I the case as he drove along the road in workers employed in the Seasonal po- gcared stiff at the howl of a coyote. No, -
keep one on file here. The last revolver the early morning, : . tato harvest. . they were city punks and they'd stick
sale I made was a week ago Monday. It was funny what that badge does Pete drove to the camp. He asked a with their car and the roads until they
Remember, I sent you a copy of the toa fellow. A lot of folks in town knew few questions and then burst into One could hit the city lights again.
application?” . about Merrill getting shot and Velsiebe- of the barracks. A young man was lying Pedersen questioned Bragg. What
Chief Pedersen nodded. “I'd forgot- ing killed. And they probably felt as on a bunk listening to a portable radio. had the youths talked about? Had they
ten about it. Who bought the gun?” bad about poor littlé Claudia as he did. “Are you Alvin Bragg?” he asked. aid where they were going or where
Reading from the book, the hardware But they hadn’t lost any sleep over it. Startled, the youth replied, “Yeah.” ne been? = oo
merchant said: “His name was Alvin That's where the ,badge came in. “Okay. Get your hands up in the air ~ Bragg said, “They told me they’d been
Bragg.” They pin it on you and then it’s your and stand over there by the wall.” over to a place-called Glass Mountain.
“What did he look like?” responsibility. Not that this case was, “Hey, what’s the idea?” - They said the whole mountain was made
“Just a young fellow. He gave his really, since it happened in the county, “You just do what I tell you. Where of nothing but glass. I didn’t believe
' address as Ben Krieger’s ‘farm, and but Pete was going to find those two did you get that radio?” them at first, but they showed me a big
said he was working out there picking murdering punks if it was the last thing “I — I — ” Bragg swallowed. The hunk of glass. they got from it.” .
| spuds. He wanted a twenty-two pistol he did. hands he held up were trembling. Pete knew about Glass Mountain, It
' todo some target practicing.” Pete had other thoughts, too, as he Pete’s eyes were narrow and his voice really isn’t glass: it is crystallized,
A young fellow—a 22 Pistol. Velsie drove along the rutted roads out to the hard. “T’ll tell you where you got it. molten lava and known as black obsid-
had been killed by a .22. flat. Big cities have detectives. Fellows From Dave Ward’s hardware store.” ian. He knew, too, that it is off the
But the gun had been purchased al- especially trained to investigate mur- “No, I didn’t.” : highway near Perez, about half-way
most two weeks previously. Was there ders. They study up on bullets and “It won’t do you no good to lie. We to Canby. g
a connection? blood and finger-prints and they have can check the serial numbers on it”. | Had they turned off the Toad at Glass
“Hey!” Ward exclaimed. He was the latest crime-detection equipment. “But I didn’t,” the youth protested. Mountain? Was that the reason they
i ooking into an oblong, gold-colored And they get headlines when they solve “They left it here when they took my didn’t hit the blockade at Canby?
%x. “Look, it’s empty!” a@ crime. gun.” : “Look, young fellow,” Pedersen said
Pete looked. In a small town, they pin a badge on “And who's ‘they’?” . to Bragg, “I want you to go to Tulelake.
“It’s my twenty-two Masterpiece!” you and you have to buy your own gun. Bragg told his story. On Thursday There’s an inquest in town this morn-
“What?” From there, you’re on your own. - night two young men had driven into ing. You tell the Sheriff what you've
“My gun. The best pistol Smith and Pete wished that he’d had some of the camp, struck up an acquaintance told me about those fellows stealing your
Vesson produces, It’s a target pistol. ' that training. Maybe he'd overlooked with Bragg and asked him if he knew gun and leaving this radio and about the
kept it in the box, but it’s gone.” something in this case. Fluffed a good where they could buy a gun. He told LaSalle automobile, too. And you tell
“Did you sell it?” lead. Maybe he was crazy to gorun- them about the pistol he just had him I'll be there a little later on.”
“No,” Ward declared. He Pushed his ning around the country alone. The bought arid showed it to them. : “Tl do it,” Bragg promised. “I don’t
ecord book across the counter. “‘See? inquest was scheduled for this morning. “They wanted to trade me this radio want to get mixed up in no murder.
‘here it is; right there!” And this kid he was looking for had for it,” Bragg sdid. “I wouldn’t do it. I’m telling the truth; they stole: my .
Pedersen read the serial numbers. bought the gun almost two weeks ago.' I'd been saving to buy that pistol be- gun.”
“That punk got it, sure as shooting!” Nevertheless, Pete still felt sure that cause I like target shooting. Besides, - Pedersen drove down the highway to
/ard exclaimed. “I don’t know how he_ the two killers had’ just obtained their . my gun cost more than the radio. They Perez, a town consisting of a gas sta-
id it. I was watching him every min-- guns. Otherwise they'd have been pull- argued with me, but I wouldn't do it.” tion and store, and inquired there about
‘e. But he got the gun and he got the ing holdups before this. And besides, “Okay,” Pedersen prompted, “What the LaSalle Sedan. But no one had seen
\dio.”” : they probably wouldn't have bought a happened?” it. : :
; : gun, and signed for it. Steal one, yes: “Well, I was kind of Suspicious of He turned onto the nar; w dirt road
‘HAT just about clinched it: The but not buy it. them; I put the gun under the mattress that leads to Glass Mountitain. As he
youth in the Mexican huarachos He pulled into Krieger's farm and when I went to sleep. But when I woke drove he watched the sides of the road
ho had stolen Ward's radio and gun asked the farmer for Alvin Bragg. up, my gun was gone and this radio was for anyplace where a, motorist could
most undoubtedly was the same youth He wasn’t there. here. They just traded without asking hide. E
ao had shot Mrs. Ainsworth. “I thought he worked for you.” me.” All the way around Glass Mountain
' But where was he? “He does,” Krieger replied. “But he Pedersen studied Bragg. He didn’t fit he drove and to the Mountain of Many
The serial numbers on the gun might hasn’t showed up yet. We aren’t dig- the description of either of the two Caves, where he came to the headquar-
‘Ip convict him if he was found, but ging this morning and we've only got killers who were in the store. But maybe ters camp of the National - Wildlife
mmasn’t the problem at the Moment. about a half-day’s work loading sacks a third man had been out in the car. Preserve. :
problem was locating him. so I told him he could come in late.” “Where were you last night around A couple of guards were there and
Pedersen started toward the “Where does he live?” six o'clock?” Pete asked. ‘ Pete asked if they had seen the
“Over at the Merrill Camp.” “Right here. And I can prove it.” LaSalle,
| “Where you going?” Ward asked. Pedersen growled at himself for Bragg was able to substantiate hig “Yeah,” one guard replied. “Two
‘T'm going to look up that punk who not thinking about the Merrill Migra- story, all right. Several men in the ‘young fellows drove in here last night
ught the other twenty-two. Maybe tory Labor Camp sooner. It was part camp backed him up. They also had in that-car, They were lost; they said
F 47
KILLING
IS A BIG
THRILL!
(Continued trom. Page 11)
ed as she waited for a school bus
in front of her home at 9400
Florence Avenue.
The little girl was rushed to a
hospital and: given emergency treat-
ment. Her father, Dr. A. L. Bryant,
was summoned and supervised while
a bullet was removed from his
daughter’s shoulder. The slug was
sent to the Los Angeles County
police laboratory for tests.
This bullet, too, matched the rifle
pellets removed from Lois May
Kreutzer and Nina Marie Bice. The
police were more baffled than ever.
Patricia Bryant’s wound was not
serious and several days later she
was able to be questioned. She
told Detectives Price and Dailey
that she had not seen anybody but
she thought the shot came from
“some bushes across the street” be-
cause she had heard something
moving around in them just before
it happened.
“I thought maybe it was my
puppy,” the little girl said, “but
when I called out to him, he didn’t
come. Then something hit me and
| fell down.” ‘
They could learn nothing further
from the child. The Bryants were
in no way connected with the two
women who had been shot, and
Captain ‘England was forced to
come to the conclusion that a
maniacal gunman was on the loose
in the vicinity of Los Angeles.
HE was very reluctant to admit
this fact and make it’ public. In an
ordinary murder, there is always a
definite motive, some way the kill-
er can be traced. and connected
with his victim. But in this case:
three separate and distinct in-
dividuals had béen shot, one fatal-
ly, for apparently no reason what-
ever other than the whim of the
person doing the shooting. His next
victim could be anyone. There was
no pattern to the shootings, no way
in which the killer’s next move
could be predicted and he could be
trapped. The public was at the
mercy of this man and the police
were powerless to protect them.
They could not station a police
officer with every man, woman and
child in the Los Angeles atea.
The newspapers splashed. the
news of the third shooting across
the front pages in big, black head-
lines. People became panicky, ex-
pecting at any moment to be struck
down by an unknown assailant. But
42
en a
nothing happened.
One, two, three weeks passed.
The publicity began to die down
and it looked like the panie of the
citizenry was subsiding. However,
police vigilance was not. Six weeks
had elapsed between the Bice and
Bryant shootings and Captain Eng-
land felt the killer might go on the
rampage at any moment.
His men were on the look-out for
all suspicious characters, with or
without rifles. Attempts were made
to trace the ownership of the gun,
but .22 caliber rifles are not in the
same category as automatics, and
they were unsuccessful.
Chief Assistant Deputy District
Attorney Adolph Alexander and
Lloyd Burton, assistant chief of the
District Attorney’s bureau of in-
vestigation, as well as Sheriff's
Captain Floyd Roseberg were also
working on the case by now. Over
and over they examined the few
scant pieces of evidence and check-
ed on the associations of the three
victims without results. The areas
where the shootings had occurred
had been explored thoroughly by
technical experts.
A rifle cartridge was found in
the shrubbery from which Patricia
Bryant had heard the noises, and
another one was found in the
avocado grove near Rivera and
Passons Boulevard, but whatever
footprints were there were indis-
tinguishable and no further clues
could be obtained.
AND on November 22, the
“Phantom Sniper,” as he had come
to be called, struck again. The
audacity of this last attack stunned
police. Mrs. Irma Magrdle was
gardening in her front yard in
broad daylight. Suddenly she felt a
stinging sensation in her thigh. She
dropped the trowel she was holding
and screamed.
Her husband rushed from the
house and saw blood spurting from
her leg. He carried her inside and
phoned a doctor. The physician
treated the leg and then took the
injured woman to a hospital.
When police questioned her, it
was the same story all over again.
She had seen no one, heard nothing,
and knew of no reason why any-
body would want to shoot her. A
che:s;, of the bullet revealed that it
was once more the work of the
“Phantom.” The Magrdle address
was 8627 Millergrove Avenue in
Rivera. The gunman had returned
te the scene of his first venture,
but who knew where he would strike
next. ,
Certainly Mrs. Audrey Murdock,
of 1521 North Delta Avenue,
Wilmar, California, didn’t. She was
ironing in her home the day after
Christmas when a_ shot fired
through the window struck her in
the arm. :
This made the fifth forage of the
my’ erious killer and it was only by
blina luck that more of his victims
had not been fatally injured.
After this last shooting, things
seemed to dic down. The New
Year arrived, and as the weeks
grew into months, nothing more was
heard from the “Phantom Sniper.”
The police continued to work on
the case, but they could do little
except wait.
Tuesday night, April 15, Mrs.
Joan Frances Hiles, 22, was home
at 9402 Pioneer Boulevard, Los
Nietos, watching television in the
living room. Her 4%-year-old son
was sleeping in the next room and
her husband, George, was at work.
Some neighbors had been watch-
ing television with her and had just
left. Mrs. Hiles moved from the
couch where she had been sitting to
a more comfortable chair. Just at
that moment there was a sharp
crack and a rifle slug imbedded it-
self in the couch where Mrs. Hiles’
head would have been if she had
not moved.
AT first the young woman did
not realize what had happened, but
then she looked at the hole in the
couch and a small puncture in the
window glass. She had read about
the “Phantom.” She telephoned the
police.
Detectives Price and Dailey ar-
rived at the scene almost immedi-
ately. They inspected the area
around the house and began in-
terrogating neighbors. Among
them was a 29-year-old railroad
switchman, husky, sun-tanned Evan
Charles Thomas, who‘ lived at 9416
Pioneer Boulevard, just down the
street, and who had been one of the
‘neighbors watching television at
the Hiles’ earlier in the evening.
Thomas seemed far more inter-
ested in asking the detectives
questions than in answering theirs.
He wanted to know what progress
they had made in tracing the
mysterious rifleman, did they have
any clues, what were they going to
do about this latest attempt, and
similar queries.
“What makes you so interested?”
Detective Price asked.
“Well, uh, well...” the man
stammered, reddening a trifle, “it’s
just natural. I live right near here.
We have two small children and my
wife is expecting a baby. I don’t
like to think she might be in
danger.”
‘That’s logical,” the detective re-
plied, “but I think you’d just better
let the authorities worry about it.
We'll get the guy, don’t ever doubt
that.” He said it with more con-
viction than he felt, but he was
somewhat. suspicious over Thomas’
evident interest in the subject.
“But have you got anything?”
the man demanded insistently.
Price didn’t answer him. Instead
he walked over to Dailey and
Captain England, who were ques-
tioning Mrs. Hiles. He whispered a
few words to them and they looked
toward Thomas.
“Tt’s a hunch,” England said in a
low voice, “but at this stage of the
game we can’t afford to pass any-
thing up. Bring bli down to hene
quarters.”
THOMAS was arrested on su-
spicion and taken to the police sta
tion. His face was pale underneath
the tan and he had suddenly lost
his inquisitive garrulity. England,
Captain Rosenberg, Deputy Alex-
ander, and Lloyd Burton questioned
him for a long time, but he denied
any connection with the phantom
shootings.
A search warrant was obtained
and Thomas’ home was entered.
Mrs. Thomas was frightened, de-
claring that she was sure her hus- .
band “wasn’t mixed up in any of
this.’ However, a .22 caliber rifle
was found in the garage of the
home and when it was taken to
headquarters and checked by the
laboratory technicians, it proved to
be the gun that had fired the shots
into the five women.
Captain England was informed of
this and confronted Thomas with
the fact. The railroad switchman
broke down and admitted his guilt.
He said it all began in August
when his wife, Hester, took the two
children and left town to visit her
mother.
“J was at loose ends,” Thomas
told the police, “So I got my gun
and went for a ride. I saw this
woman in the phone booth and on
an impulse I shot at her. I got a
thrill out of it. Two nights later I
went out again. I didn’t mean to
kill the woman at the counter. I
was trying to knock the coffee cup
out of her hand, but I guess I miss-
ed.”
Thomas spoke quietly, without
emotion or remorse. After he had
given a detailed confession, he took
the officers on a round of the shoot-
ing scenes, demonstrating at each
spot how he had fired the rifle and
where he had been standing. He
said he “just picked them at
random.”
Frightened Los Angeles citizens
heaved a sigh of relief when news
of Thomas’ apprehension was
publicized. If it hadn’t been for his
own curiosity, the “Phantom
Sniper” might never have been
caught, but it is those unpredictable
little vagaries of human nature
that often work on the side of law
and order.
Thomas was charged with
murder, and felonious assault and is
being held in jail pending court
action. He attributed his wild and
irresponsible crimes to an unnatural
urge, without rhyme-or reason.
—THE END—
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LEATHER
[Houas, Uae —_ oe > ane
“ Hitehhiker—Vincent Paul
charger! with murder. in the slaying of S.
‘|: Mason‘tJonas -of *Leesville/ Va., is hand-
Sheriff Charlie
cuffed by Beaumont, Tey,
| Mayer, in Houston,.Texf, as Officer Willie
-Ladish (center) looks pn. Pavlik’s state-
Marine held in after-dinner slaying.
ment is that'Jonas gave the AWOL Ma-
rine (from. a North Carolina camp) a
lift and bought, his dinner before the youth
“shot him ‘and took $37 and the car, “He is
Sear in Beaumont, ‘. Bete
bicycle” wavered uncertainly on a Worth-
ing, Eng., street when she felt something
pop. If she stayed on her bike it meant
riding through a stop sign. If she got off
~as Tequired by law ‘she was almost certain.
to lose some of her undergarments. Elsa,
18, paid a $2.10 fine, pegesed to use
stronger elastic,
No: ‘Thought Control—Four students
at the University. of Wisconsin. in Madi-
son, confessed they had been “thinking”
about’ stealing a stop sign. A disorderly
conduct charge was dismissed when the
Pthinking’™ There’s no jlaw against
Abnormal Cask petsuksen sur-
‘prised and suspicious when he saw a driver
observe all stop signs and-signal for- all
turns, arrested Robert E. Dunnan, 31, of
Indianapolis, for investigation and a check
Tenn,, the driver wanted for robbery,
Sssipol sae 8
Sey remaniy ‘Oakland, Cal., James
5. Cannin, -an. airlines -pilot, awoke in his
hotel; room™to find an’ attractive | young
woman at, his. bedside, “I just came-in to
3 “have a drink with you,” she smiled. Before
Cannin could answer, a man and a woman
broke into. the room and amid *® much
‘laughter swept out with the fair stranger
“in tow. Muttering about “danged drunks,”
-Cannin fellasleep again’ But in the morn-
ing he discovered his wrist watch and $20
had. Sesppesred:
avlik, 19,
“the’ “Two-way: Stratch—Eisa ters 2
showed: the car-was stolen in Memphis,
-kidnaping and theft carers in Mis- —
Death Sentence — Evans’ Charles
Thomas, 29, who admitted shooting six
women and a young girl to satisfy an °
abnormal sex urge (INSIDE DETEC-
TIVE, July, Bullets are Kisses) has been
convicted of murder by a California
superior court. There was no recommen-
dation for leniency. That means he will
be.sentenced to die in the gas chamber.
Jail for Jeanne D’Arc—Staring un-
emotionally Mrs. Jeanne D’Arc Michaud,
the brains behind the $1,500,000 burglary
of the home of Reno millionaire La Vere
INSIDE DETECTIV wH
vy
tenced to five years’ imprisonment for her
part in. the crime. The 36-year-old former
songwriter remained stiff-faced through-
out the sentencing. The week before Mrs.
Michaud had been convicted by a federal
court of transporting the stolen money
across state lines.
Badly Discombobulated—after toil-
ing for nearly an hour to rescue a -de-
composed body reported floating in Lake
Ontario just offshore, Long Branch, Ont.,
policeman, David Bailey, had the body, a
store mannequin, lying in state at the local
police station.
Double Steal—Out on bail, Jacek An-
tonio Sorokin and Leon Kosmowski drove
to London’s Wellingborough Court to face
charges of stealing an auto. They were
rearrested,’ recharged and held for trial
«when. it--was. learned they had driven to
‘court in a’second stolen -car. extant
Common Bond—Rounded up in
Tampa, Fla.,, six fathers, all from Staten
Island, N. Y,, are booked at a New York
police station charged. with abandonment
in, the alleged desertion of their wives‘and .
children. According to police all six met
and became friends in Florida. First four,
left to right, are: Anthony Cicero, 32, two
children; William McPherson, 41, four
children; Louis Cappola, 36, ‘three chil-
Booked in abandoning of 20 hifdeort
dren; and Philip D’Allesandro, with two.
Detective Robert Nelson is at the desk
_and the last two, left to right, are. fathers _
Robert McCaffrey, 31; with four, and
Joseph Cunningham, 46, with five young-
sters. Nelson and defectives in the rear
brought the men to New York,
‘
| The Kiss-Off—The California State
F Supreme Court upheld the death sentence
of Evan Charles Thomas, 29-year-old
sniper, who killed one woman and shot at
j six others in Los Angeles in 1951 (Bullets
; Are Kisses, July 1NSIwvE, 1952). Attorneys
i for Thomas had appealed the sentence on
| the grounds that insufficient evidence was
produced to result in the first degree mur-
\ der conviction.
i The Hot-Lead Kid — Judge Wendell
Green of the Cook County Criminal Court
in Chicago sentenced Joseph Sustak to
life imprisonment for the murder of Jack
| Hendricks (The Hot-Lead Kid From
Maxwell Street, August INSIDE, 1953).
H Judge Green imposed sentence after re-
{ fusing Sustak a new trial. Sustak has also
| been indicted in the murder of Predrag
| Jovanovic and the wounding of policeman
Anthony Kasten. Whether he will be tried
on these charges is doubtful. His com-
panion in crime, Charles Struhart, has
been indicted and is awaiting trial on
charges of murder and assault to kill.
Coed's End—Colby College coed 21-
year-old Harriet Sart of Nahant, Mass.,
was sentenced to one to two years in
prison for hiding the body of her un-
| wanted infant daughter (And Baby Made
{ Two, September INSIDE Report). It was
revealed after sentencing that Harriet had
gotten married during the summer while
she was free on bail awaiting trial and
that she is now pregnant. Her husband
Lie Ae F
Harriet wed and is now expecting.
i is David Rudd of Baldwin, N. Y. Harriet
was arrested on a murder charge after the
body of the child was found in a trunk
jury indicted her for concealment of a
H dead human body and concealment of il-
legitimate issue. The murder charge was
dismissed because “whether the child had
ever lived was questionable.” Harriet
| sobbed wildly when Judge Albert Beli-
| veau imposed sentence. “Oh, God, no!”
she cried. “I don’t want to go to prison.”
AIM ERED HOG SARTRE LTR RO NE
at the college, but the Kennebec, Me.,.
IN AT THE SINGH
<P LR ST
Prove It — Daniel T. Egan pleaded
guilty to a charge of second degree mur-
der before Superior Judge Donald K.
Quayle in Oakland, Cal., in the slaying of
Egan: sentence yet to be pronounced.
his wife, Kathryn (Prove It If You Can,
September INSIDE, 1953). Sentence has
yet to be pronounced.
Peddler's Fate—John Clay Kensinger,
29-year-old itinerant magazine salesman,
was sentenced to die in the electric chair
for the murder of cabbie Leroy Applegate
(Peddlers of Death, October INSIDE,
1953). Judge William Medley of Arling-
ton Circuit Court, Washington, D. C.,
also sentenced Kensinger’s 20-year-old
accomplice Richard Lee McCaughey to
12 years. McCaughey had pleaded guilty
to second degree murder.
No Holds—A Du Page County, Ill.
grand jury returned a no bill against
Frank Kopecky who was charged with the
murder of Mrs. Viola Rose Wesbroch
(There’s No Holding Viola, October IN-
SIDE, 1953). Police said Kopecky admitted
carrying on a clandestine affair with Mrs.
Wesbrock and that he had taken her to
his summer cottage for several days, but
he said he let her out of his car a few
blocks from her home on the evening they
returned from the cottage. He said she
injured her head when she fell out of bed
the night before they left the cottage.
Cop Into Robber—R. L. (Bob) Gur-
ley, Dallas, Tex., detective lieutenant, sus-
pended in a, recent investigation of the
police department (Cops ’N’ Robbers,
October INsmE, 1953) -was convicted of
theft and sentenced to two years in
prison. The jury did not recommend a
suspended sentence as asked by defense
attorneys. Gurley said he would appeal.
mountain accident could have kept Ollie away
all night.
A search squad made up of the hotel owner,
three summer guests, and a police dog struck
out to look for her. Local people had seen
her take the most northerly trail, so that’s
where the rescuers went. They panted on for
three miles when suddenly the dog shot off
into the bushes. Nose to the ground he led the
party to a rock-barricaded gap in the moun
tain wall. When the rocks were removed, a
cave opened before the men. Inside, sprawling
naked on the floor was Ollie, shackled, gagged,
staring out of horror-dazed eyes.
Aside from a superficial scalp wound and
welts from whipping, she was unharmed. But
the horror she had been through had left her
in a state of mental shock. Wrapping her in
her own clothes, the men put her on the army
cot they found in the cave and carried her to
the local clinic. The hotel owner then phoned
the headquarters of the regional police in
Innsbruck. Two carloads of officers, headed
by Detective Chief Martin Pfannhof, raced
to the scene. -
A$ CAVES go this was a comfortable one.
It had a folding table with a kerosene
lamp on top, a canvas chair by the side, ©
wooden planks’ on the floor, and in a corner,
cooking utensils and cans of food. Hidden in
the vicinity, several officers waited for the
fiend to return—in case he should. Others went
off to question mountain dwellers. Identifica-
tion men in the Innsbruck office checked for
prints all likely objects picked up in the cave,
including a leather whip, a blackjack and a
large knife.
Then Chief Pfannhof went to Ollie Gabor’s
bedside. Shivering with fear, and not always
coherent, the girl told how she had gone for a
walk and on the way home a man had sudden-
ly come up from behind and struck her over
the head with a club.
When she came out of the fog of uncon-
sciousness, she was sprawling on the floor of
the cave, stripped, being whipped by this
frenzied maniac. She wanted to run but there
were rocks piled against the exit from the
inside.
“I’m going to have my fun with you, my
dove,” the monster told her, laughing hideous-
ly, “and when I get tired I’ll just cut you in
little strips.” The night had been one long
nightmare of rape and torture. In the morn-
ing he had gone off, leaving her gagged and
shackled in the barricaded cave. He had not
explained, but the girl thought that he had
left her there to die.
The question kept going around in Chief
Pfannhof’s head. Why did the brute leave?
To establish some sort of alibi? To go about
his daily job? He was obviously from that
part of the country since according to Ollie
Gabor he spoke the local idiom.
“The stake-outs at the cave will stay for
three nights and days,” Pfannhof decided.
“There’s a chance he may come back.”
Meanwhile, railroad stations, buses, and
hotels were checked and watched by detec-
tives supplied with the description the girl
had given of the fiend. Villagers and travelers
were asked if they had seen a pale rat-faced
man aged 40, five feet ten inches, sunken-in
chest, long thin fingers, arms and legs; dressed
in a shabby gray suit.
Beating up and down the mountain trails,
detectives tried to find witnesses who might
have seen this man lugging the. few sticks of
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to a cave
The horr
miliar pat
dagger th:
ive
In At The Finish
Drink Up—Harlow Fraden, 22, confessed
killer of his parents (Drink Up, Folks, I’m
Working, March INSIDE, 1954), was com-
mitted to Matteawan State Hospital for
the Criminal Insane, Bronx, N. Y. County
Judge James M.- Barrett at the same time
suspended the first degree murder indict-
ment against the boy. Fraden’s pal and
co-defendant, Denis Wepman, was judged
sane, however, and he pleaded not guilty to
the murder charge. Wepman, who was
seized as a passive accomplice in the crime,
faces trial alone.
Crazy Carl—Former Carnival owner
Carl J. Folk was sentenced to die in the
Arizona gas chamber for the brutal torture-
slaying of Mrs. Betty Faye Allen (Every-
one Knows Crazy Carl, March INSIDE,
1954). Folk was found guilty of first’ de-
gree murder after the Holbrook, Ariz., jury
had debated for one hour and 22 minutes.
Let's Play—James David Griffiths, 20,
of Pueblo, Colo., and Larry Ray Aldrich,
19, of Des Moines, Ia., were sentenced to
life imprisonment for the pop-bottle mur-
der of a crippled Claremore, Okla., service
station attendant (Let’s Play Kill, April
INSIDE, 1954), District Judge Josh J. Evans
warned the two boys not to return to his
court with an appeal, saying he had a ‘“‘close
choice” between ordering life imprisonment
or execution. Mrs. Shirlie Hooks Abantha,
17, and Sylvester Collette, also 17, pleaded
innocent to the murder charge, but have yet
to stand trial.
Dead Women—In Denver, Colo.,
Judge Garold H. Davies directed a verdict
of innocent on the murder count of a three
count indictment against John H. Baney
(Dead Women Tell Tales, January INSIDE,
1954). The jury will consider counts of
rape and assault to rape only. Judge Davies,
in directing the verdict, granted a motion
by Attorney Robert B. Lee contending that
the defense had shown evidence that Mrs.
Dorothy Gall died, not as a result of being
raped, but as a result of the procaine anes-
thetic administered at a hospital before
surgery.
Terror-—A murder charge was filed
against 19-year-old Tommy Walker, who
has been accused in the rape-slaying of
Mrs. H. C. Parker which aroused Dallas,
Tex., last fall (Terror Feeds On Moonlight,
January INSIDE, 1954). The youthful sus-
pect has signed a confession, but captain
Will Fritz of the Dallas Police Department
said he could not be sure of the boy’s guilt
until all evidence had been checked.
Football—In Chicago, James Dodd,
who admitted kicking his two-year-old son
across the length of a room (Kicked Him
Like A Football, January INSIDE, 1954)
was sentenced to 25 years in prison on a
murder charge. Dodd pleaded guilty after
the state indicated that it would demand
a jury trial and the death penalty if he
didn’t.
Still Not in Rome—lItalian globe-trot-
ter Pietro Mele is shown (hatless in center)
leaving a police launch at a New York pier
after he was taken off the Europe-bound
liner Constitution. It was halted in lower
ae etd
I’m tired and I wanna go home—to Kome.
New York Bay at the request of police
after Mele’s $1000 bail on a simple assault
charge was revoked. Officers of the district
attorney’s force took Mele off the ship. The
assault charge resulted from a scuffle with
police outside the apartment of glamor girl
Brenda Frazier (When Not In Rome... .,
February INSIDE, 1954).
A Final Strike—In San Francisco, Cal.,
Mrs. Rowena Johnson and her paramour
partner in murder, H. Don Waller, drew a
total of three life sentences after they had
pleaded guilty to stabbing her estranged
husband to death in his Richmond, Cal.,
apartment (Strike Now—He’s Sleeping,
February Insipe, 1954). Mrs. Johnson will
spend the rest of her life in the women’s
prison at Corona. Waller received two life
terms when it was learned that he had
seven prior convictions on charges of auto
theft and burglary. He was described by
Superior Judge Wakefield Taylor as “a
ener reer
et,
Three life sentences for Rowena and Don.
habitual criminal.” Photo shows Mrs.
Johnson (right) at a pre-trial coroner’s
hearing. She ,broke down several times
during questioning about the brutal stab-
bing of her husband. With her are Police-
woman Mary Lou Butler and Police Ser-
geant Fay Hawkins.
Hot-Lead—T wenty-one-year-old
Charles Struhart was found guilty of the
murder of Jack Hendricks (The Hot-Lead
Kid From Maxwell Street, August INSIDE,
1953) and sentenced to 20 years in prison
by a. criminal court jury in Chicago. Joseph
Sustak, 26, Struhart’s companion on the
shooting spree which cost Hendricks his
life was earlier sentenced to life imprison-
ment. Policeman Anthony Kasten, wounded
in the gun battle with the boys, has made a
successful recovery.
yoo
Kiss of Death—Evan Charles Thomas.
the “Phantom Sniper” who prowled the
ark streets of Los Angeles, Cal., in 1951
hooting at women with a rifle (Bullets Are
isses, July INSIDE, 1952) was executed in
he lethal gas chamber at San Quentin.
homas was told only 15 minutes before
is death, that his personally handwritten
blea for a stay of execution had been denied.
The 30-year-old killer, who shot at women
‘because it sexually excited me,” took the
news calmly, saying, “I didn’t really expect
nything else.”
Flickering Out—Gunman Luther Car-
lyle Wheeler died in Mississippi’s electric
chair at Hattiesburg, Miss., for the murder
of two policemen (The Blonde Has Flick-
ering Green Eyes, July INSIDE, 1952). He
was singing ‘Jesus, Hold My Hand”’ until
a jolt of electricity silenced him. As
Wheeler had been led from his cell block,
he had spurned the shouted plea of Elaine
Foreman, his convicted girlfriend accom-
plice, that he confess his crime. “Baby.
don’t testify to people, testify to God,”
he shouted back to the woman who was in
another cell awaiting an appeal of her life
sentence.
Along the Highway—Bernard Prigan,
who confessed to assaulting over 100 wom-
en, was sentenced in Manheim, Germany,
to three terms for killing three of his vic-
tims (Highway Of Murdered Women, Au-
gust INSIDE, 1953). German law does not
permit the death penalty.
Tin Hero—John D. Mulqueen, 25, of
Cudahy, Wis., was sentenced to one to two
years in state prison for manslaughter and
one to eight years for theft of his victim's
car. (Look For The Little Tin Hero, Feb-
ruary INSIDE, 1954). Mulqueen admitted
killing and robbing Korean war veteran
Captain Lloyd G.. Larson. Judge Kenneth
S. White ruled the sentences will run con-
currently, which means Mulqueen can serve
both at the same time.
Down Mexico Way—A federal judge in
the small town of Izucar De Matamoros.
Mexico, sentenced Hombono Lavarria
Alonso to 30 years in prison, Manuel San-
chez Ramirez to 28 years and Maurilio
Moctezuma Soriano to 26 years. The three
confessed to killing Dr. Ralph Swain of
Benton, Ill., in a highway robbery (Bad-
Will Ambassadors, January INSIDE, 1954).
TG f GSA
Saheb Pail rE NA
\
TAING, C,arley, Che, hanged Colusa, Calif., 1-30-1880,
~ * bia ss Co Spe eh eaten coon on gle
f ie sae
CaN Cow, Wx Teck docs ‘YO
FH obrony II64 A
onducted in the courthouse-and Sacramento to construct a new two- be
the rooms, for atime, was used story jail building just west of the
thool classroom. “new” courthouse building. The con- :
courthouse dominates the heart tract sum was $16,233.00, which fig- ;
business district of the town of ure included remodeling the jail space gst
\. Of southern architectural m the courthouse building for use by “ie
with four large columns guard- the District Attorney, Treasurer and 4g
ve main entrance, the building Supervisors’ offices. By October 19, ad oon “s
Yo
ts the deep-south heritage of the
founders of the county.
3 heritage was also reflected in
sentiments during the Civil War
The county generally espoused
uthern Cause. It was rumored
35 that some of the citizens of
2 celebrated the assassination
esident Lincoln. Although this
: has been locally denied, it is
.that federal troops were dis-
:d to Colusa. These troops camp~
the courthouse grounds and ar-
{ the District Attorney of the coun-
i seven other local residents on
sified charges. :*These persons
taken. to Fort Alcatraz. It was
sted that. they would be tried in
rancisco but after being held in
ty for over three weeks they were
ditionally released.
870 the courtroom of the court-
was refurbished and the present
black-walnut rail, hand-carved
‘s bench, clerk’s desk and curved
21 table installed.
jail section of the ‘‘new* court-
consisted of four cells. The
of the cells were of peculiar
uction in that the doors did not
on hinges but rather moved up
ywn in a groove made by strap=
vars of ivon on the door facings.
terior door on the south side of
il section provided access to the
‘ard, surrounded by its brick
In 1868 gallows were con-
ed in this jail yard for the exe- _
of James Tevis. A,few days
» the scheduled hanging, the gov-
1878, the work had been completed;
the county officers mentioned had
moved into their remodeled offices and
the new jail had been “accepted” by
the Board of Supervisors. ‘
X Charley Taing became the third per- ii
son to be legally executed in the history i
of the county on January 30, 1880.
The sheriff erected a wood fence 25’
high between the courthouse and the jail
and the scaffold was constructed within
this enclosure. The same arrange~
ments were made for the execution
which took place on June 14, 1886.
On this date, Charles DeWitt became ¢
the fourth (and last) person to die on : 5
a scaffold in Colusa County. The ; §
legislature provided that all execu- }
tions, commencing in 1891, were to }
take place at one of the state prisons. } {4
4
“
re aE
St & Es: z
Re ean a
ae
Sicisr ie? te BE geet pe Dt tg es pre fete *
wr
eeeeeeee ee
The county records continued to ac-
cumulate and by 1882 the offices of i
County Clerk, Recorder and Auditor 4
had outgrown the space provided for %
them in the courthouse building and it
was imperative that additional room be |
provided. Accordingly, on August 22, - ae |
1882, the Board of Supervisors let a ‘
contract to build a Hall of Records 4
building for the sum of $17,470.00. i
This building was constructed in the ;
southwest area of the present court-
house grounds. Several interesting
features of the building were its octag-
onal shape, “made-stone” (concrete)
floor, and the fact that no wood was
used in the construction. The county
officers named moved into the building
on March 20, 1883.
‘sat
eg ITH
sin
*
a
Sreeteid Son. os Me GS
| > In 1885 a contract was awarded for ;
communted Tevis’ sentence to the erection of a structure connecting 4 R
y years confinement.” Thecoun- the jail building to the courthouse at
3 out the cost of the gallows and the second floor level of each. This
evice was soon torn down, never structure was referred to in the con-
used. Colusa County has built tract as a “tramway,” and records of
gallows but executed only four the time disclose that is was-intended 3
ters! ¢ to make the upper floor of the jail build- ;
jail quarters in the “new” court- ing more accessible, one plan then belng
sod zs served the county well for afew to remodel the upper floor of the jail
SRP eso sume but as early as 1875 the grand for use by other county offices. This
reported the same “wholly inade~ was not done, and in later years the We iwias sete
) ” On May 13, 1878, a contract “tramway” became known as the -|
awarded to Carle & Croley of “pridge of sighs,” -- copied after an- {
‘ie |
: Aad Coe Condy | Aiea
QQaw ane A TT i & hy Tt
¢ Qa vine Anoday, O he olin ptzd Sere de -
. ; os meni 8 on y 1~\89O ‘2 J
, ¢
Dey, Drengerte Sunred} <— S- aes
, PE AS PCs on Oe Oe , ‘s &
settee The) ne Poe aaa oO ee ct i Ne ay seemed. SMALLL Gre od stil ae adi,
f
. . KE SAAIAT, PEERY SEG IYG Mew bee Se LY TRS ST REY Ts
3 ss Br. 4
Rey THOMAS, Henry, black, asphyx. Calif. (Siskiyou) July 13, 1956.
, | a
Without |
Fol-de-Rol or
Fanfare iw
Pete Pedersen Was a Small-Town-Cop in Tulelake,
California. Without Fancy Equipment, Lengthy
Training, Gold Badge—With Only His Wits and
His Gun—Could He Find the Big-City Killers?
By Jack Ward
Special Investigator for
ACTUAL DETECTIVE STORIES
T WAS six o'clock that Friday night “He didn’t know. He said he was just
of October 20, 1950—time togohome driving by and somebody told him to
for dinner. send out the ambulance and the Law.”
Chief of Police O: ER. Pedersen pulled Chief Pedersen hesitated. The State
down the rolltop of his desk, pushed Line Grocery was several miles out of
back his swivel chair and rose to his town. Pete’s dinner would be on the .
feet. Hitching his gun belt around to table and Mrs. Pedersen, like any other
a comfortable position, he headed for wife, would be disappointed over Pput- —
the door. : ting a nice hot meal in the oven to dry
Genial, broad-shouldered Pete was out. :
the one-man police force in Tulelake, What's more, Pete’s jurisdiction and
California. It wasa 24-hour-a-day job, job ended at the foot of this very street.
but not too tough at that, for crime in But the sheriff’s office was in Yreka,
Tulelake was pretty much confined to miles away over the rugged mountains
Chief of Police O, Pederse
He had a promise to live up
complaints apex been dogs. i hwy oy ae ny very Be —_ Even
Tulelake is a small wn, & very sma, e ghway Patro In’t keep a car
town. If you look closely at yo Cali- on the little-traveled No. 139. . Sistent. Pete sorted the facts out in his So Slim had been away at six o’clock,
fornia map you can spot it near. the Pete made up his mind. head and slipped them in their proper when the killers came in.
) Oregon border on State Highway No. “Go ahead, Bill,” he said. “I'll fol- places. _ Merrill was in the back room weigh-
139, a secondary link between U.S. No. low you.” The sobbing little girl was Claudia | ing out dried beans and Sealing them in
97 at Klamath Falls, Oregon, and U.S. P f : Ainsworth. The man holding his bleed- Pound cellophane sacks. Claudia sat
No. 299 at Canby, California, THE State Line Grocery is a typical ing leg was Ray Merrill. And the dead ona box near the big, square, oil-burn-
Its chief claim to fame is that it is a country store. It sits back from the woman inside the store was Mrs. Velsie ing stove atone side of the room, using
pocket in the mighty Cascade Moun- highway all by itself and seryes the few Ainsworth, the ‘five-year-old girl’s a colored crayon on a Picture book. A
tains, in between three of the nation’s . ranchers and loggers in the area. mother. * 5s N s Ell
largest wild-game refuges. Millions of _ When Pete jumped out of the Police Velsie and W. C.—Slim—Ainsworth. the rear of the store, squatting as he
ducks and geese stop over on migratory car, several persons were on the ve- had owned and operated the State Line peered into the glass front of the meat
flights from Canada and Mexico onTule randa. . ° : Grocery for many years, Four of their case. Velsie stood behind the case
Lake, Sleepy Lake and Clear Lake Res- A little girl about’ five years of age five daughters were grown and pri waiting for his order. :
ervations, x ; :
During the war years the name Tule- woman. Two men were speaking toa Velsie and Slim had sold out and 'HE front door of the store opened and
lake appeared in print quite often. It third who was seated on the steps with planned to take a nice long vacation, two young me entered. One of
was the site of the government's his back against a Pole. His hands Grinning, Slim had told his custom- them was dressed Jeans, an Army-
Japanese Relocation Center, an ideal were clamped around his thigh. Blood ers: “I figure I might go down as far type jacket anda white sweat shirt. He
spot for this because it is isolated by oozed through his fingers and more as Hollywood and see Eddie Cantor. stopped by the cookie rack and looked
the 6,000-foot peaks of the Cascades blood was running off his shoe and onto Him and me have a lot in common.” over the display, | ;
and almost surrounded by barren lava the step.- Ray Merrill had bought. the store, The other walked up to the counter
flows, : The inside of the store was.empty Slim promised to stay on with him for with the cash register,
Pete was on his way toward his car, except for the dead woman. She lay a month as clerk until Merrill learned “Let me see what they want ‘and I'll
behind City Hall, when he heardasiren. face up at the end of a counter. the. stock and got acquainted with all be right.back, Roy,” Velsie told Elling?
A moment later an ambulance Someone had placed a folded blanket the customers. : ton. ;
‘eeched to a stop in front of Pete, and under her head. But it gave her no But this was the duck season. Mrs. Ainsworth made her way to the -
l Curley poked his head out of the comfort now; she was dead. A bright Slim had been downright unhappy cash register. where the youth waited.
adow. rivulet of blood coursed across her that morning at the Prospect of spend- He was wearing blue jeans and a bright
‘Hey, Pete!” Bill shouted excitedly. shoulder and into a Pool on the floor, Ing the day cooped up in the store when blue sports shirt with huge, white Polka
“A fellow just drove in from the State Chief Pedersen did not receive all of he could be out at Steele Swamp with dots. His hair was close-cropped and
e Line Grocery and says there’s some his information in chronological order. his shotgun. Sensing this, Velsie had. dark and he had broad heavy foatures,
trouble out there!” Excited voices told him snatches of it, volunteered to help out in hia place for “Gimme a couple bottles of pop,” he
“What kind of trouble?” a bit at a time, Jumbled and incon- the day. said.
17,
plea DEBeHYS Stapiss , RU [GS-2
aM,
ec REY
|
|
i)
|
Five Pretty Victims For The Ugly Sniper
(continued from page 43)
was no sign of a prowler. Officers have
been around to all the neighbors already,
and nobody saw anything strange al-
though a few of them did hear the shot.’”
Lieutenant Rosenberg walked over to
the broken window, saw a small hole the
bullet had ripped in the full-length drapes,
then crossed to the wall where the slug
had hit. ‘‘This one on the way to the lab?”’
Deputy T.B. Keeney said the bullet
had been recovered and rushed to the
crime laboratory shortly after their arri-
val. A local officer now entered the liv-
ingroom carefully holding ona bit of card-
board a stub of a cigaret. He said it had
been found outside on the Hiles lawn.
Rosenberg, Sergeants Dailey and Leslie
and the deputies immediately hurried out
to the place where the butt had been
picked up.
The lieutenant backed off a few paces
from the point of the discovery to allow
for the distance the sniper had flipped the
cigaret. Then he told Leslie, ‘‘Go inside,
darken the room and shine your flash
from the spot where the bullet hit the
wall.”
In a moment the detective sergeant’s
light could be seen through the window —
flashlight and drapery hole lining up per-
fectly with the position Rosenberg had
taken. ‘‘No doubt,” the lieutenant said,
‘that this is the spot from which he fired.
That butt was smoked by the sniper.”’
Back inside, Rosenberg questioned
Joan Hiles a second time. The pretty girl
revealed that three or four times in the
past year she had received telephone calls
late at night. When she answered, no one
would reply, yet she could hear heavy
breathing on the other end. Aftera minute
or two, the caller would hang-up without
having uttered a word.
«**These calls; Mrs. Hiles,”’ Rosenberg
said, ‘‘they came when your husband was
here?” :
*‘No— whenI was alone. When he was
at work.”
‘Then it would be reasonable to as-
sume that the caller knew when you
would be alone,”’ the lieutenant said. He
glanced at an ash tray and noticed several
cigaret stubs which did not have traces of
lipstick on them. ‘‘Your visiting neigh-
bor,’’ Rosenberg said, ‘‘he smokes?”
The neighbor, Evan Thomas, did
smoke. But he was a solid type. so de-
voted a family man that Joan and her hus-
band never questioned his visits to their
house. Thomas had a pair of cute young-
sters and the two families were on
friendly terms. He had dropped over that
night because he was lonely for his wife
and children, who were visiting relatives
a4
in San Gabriel. .
‘*‘Mr. Thomas heard the gunshot, too,””
Joan Hiles said. ‘*‘He called me on the
phone right after I talked to the sheriff's
substation at Norwalk. I told himI was all
right but asked him to come over and wait
with me until the police got here.”
Deputies Wagnon and Keeney looked
puzzled. ‘‘There wasn’t anyone here
when we arrived,’ Keeney said.
‘**When I heard your siren,”’ Joan said,
“*L told Mr. Thomas I'd be all right, so he
left to be on time for his job.”
Rosenberg turned to leave but before
saying goodbye to the housewife asked
one question: ‘‘Do you always sit in the
armchair when you watch television? I
notice that the ash tray with Mr. Thomas’
cigaret butts in it was near that chair, as if
he had been seated there.”’
Joan managed a smile of surprise at the
lieutenant’s thoroughness. ‘‘Usually I sit
on the davenport to watch television,”
she said. ‘‘On the far end. For some
reason I decided to sit in the armchair
instead when I got back from the
kitchen.”’
Rosenberg walked to the drapes, found
the hole, and using a fingertip as an im-
agined bullet, ran the straight line from
the hole to the point in the far wall the
bullet hit. The line passed through the
exact spot where Joan Hiles’ head would
have been if she had taken her customary
seat at the far end of the davenport.
‘‘Whatever reason you had for switch-
ing your seat,’ Rosenberg said, ‘‘It saved
your life.””
Outside, the lieutenant told Sergeant
Leslie and Dailey to locate Evan Thomas
at his job and bring the man to the Nor-
walk substation for an interview. ‘‘He’s
the best witness we've had yet. Maybe
Thomas can help us out with this mys-
tery.”
Half an hour later Thomas was at the
substation, wondering what it was all
about but showing eagerness to be help-
ful. He was a tall, well-built young man
with dark hair and a scraggly little try at a
mustache. Rosenberg ran him through a
routine quiz, adding to the previous in-
formation only the facts that Thomas was
28 and a veteran of the Armed Forces.
‘*You live two doors from the Hiles?”’
Rosenberg asked.
“Yes. I heard the shot, called Mrs.
Hiles, and went right over when she said
she was afraid to be alone,’’ Thomas re-
plied.
‘Neighborly,’ Rosenberg com-
mented. ‘‘You're alone yourself a lot
— when your family visits relatives?”
Evan Thomas nodded affirmatively,
iat
i
took out a cigaret and leaned forward»
accept a light Rosenberg held out. Tr
lieutenant chuckled. ‘‘You smoke th
same brand we found outside the Hil
house,”’ he said. ‘Good thing it’s a pops
lar brand.” ‘
Thomas grinned but the grin faded yg.
Rosenberg hit him with several mor
questions. Had the Thomas ' family bee
away Visiting on the day after Christmas?
And on August 27, 28, 29, October
November 22?
Thomas thought they had been away
around last Christmas and maybe for sev
eral days in August. He wasn’t sure, ba
could find out.
**You were pretty sure about Mn
Hiles’ phone number,’’ Rosenberg snap
ped. ‘‘How come?’*
‘I’ve called the house before,”
Thomas said. ‘‘Nothing wrong in that,
there?” :
‘But sometimes you didn’t say ant
thing,”’. Rosenberg insisted. ‘‘Just keg
silent to scare her when she was alone?
Thomas scowled. *‘Because of a lousy
cigaret, you're trying to pin this snipe
thing on me?” :
“*Because the living room drapes inth
Hiles home were drawn shut,”’ Roset
berg said. ‘‘They are heavy drapes atl
you can’t see through them. Yet an acct
rate shot was fired through those drapé
and would have killed Joan Hiles had st
been seated in her usual place on tk
davenport. Only someone familiar wit
the Hiles would have tried shooting witt
out seeing his target. Someone who knet
Joan was in that room, on the davenpot
because that’s where she had been justt
moment before, when he left the house.”
Thomas turned white, clawed fe
another cigaret. ‘Search the Thoms
home for a .22 rifle,’’ Rosenberg it
structed Leslie and Dailey. He swum
back to Thomas. ‘You called right afte
the shot because some crazy sex impule
forced you to shoot at her and it wast?
any good unless you knew she had beet
hit.” *
The burly suspect passed a hand ov#
his eyes. ‘‘You'll find the rifle in %
house,” he said, breathing heavily.
shot at her. I'd get restless when my fa
ily was away — get to riding around, !00
ing at other women, wanting dates
them. I liked to see them over my
sights, scare them or hurt them jus#
little. I didn’t mean to kill that brunetied
just wanted to shoot the cup from b#
hand, but I wasn’t that good a shot.”.:
Thomas confessed that he fired at
women to satisfy a strange impulse, thé
he would drink heavily. q
A high-powered, bolt-action .22 calité
rifle was found hidden in the suspé
home. Taken to the crime laboratory
was test-fired by ballistics technic##
(continued on next page) ae
i
and the specimen slugs were compared
under the microscope with bullets reco-
vered from the various victims during the
phantom sniper’s eight-month reign of
terror in the Los Angeles suburbs. The
crime lab experts reported an exact
match — the sniper slugs had been fired
from the .22 rifle owned by Evan
Thomas.
Five counts of assault with a deadly
weapon were lodged against the suspect,
and one count of first-degree murder. To
all charges, the accused pleaded guilty.
For taking the life of young Nina Bice to
steal a distorted thrill, Evan Thomas was
ushered into the gas chamber at San
Quentin Penitentiary and strapped to one
of the twin seats. The phantom, who had
habitually vanished in thin air from the
scene of his crimes, was destroyed by the
invisible fumes.
Final Exam From The Sex-Master
(continued from page 35)
consideration made such a thing com-
pletely plausible. For the Manfred that
she knew, accepting the blame to spare
others was entirely in character.
The wedding took place on December
17, 1976, and the four bridesmaids were
the bride's own daughters. There was no
honeymoon. Both Therese and Manfred
found a honeymoon vaguely undignified
i persons of their age and, in any case,
they would have the house in Herne al-
most entirely to themselves. Olga, Ilse
and Hilda had found an apartment which
they were sharing and Birgit would spend
the first week following the marriage with
them, after which she would move back
with her mother and new stepfather,
although, at the rate she was developing,
probably not for long. Girls mature young
in Germany today.
As for Manfred, he simply gave up the
one-room studio which he had been oc-
cupying in nearby Essen and moved over.
As far as his business went, it made al-
Most no difference. Like other parts of
the great industrial district of the Ruhr,
the towns along the northern fringe...
Essen, Bottrop, Gelsenkirchen, Wan-
feeickel, Bochum and Heme... all tend
torun one into the other so that it is hard
to say where one leaves off and another
begins.
They are all very much the same in any
¢ase, manufacturing, mining, steel mill
‘owns where the streams run as green
¥ith poison as the money which turned
that colon and acid-laden rain fre-
@uently eats the paint from the cars.
It was not raining on December 17,
1977. It was snowing ant the snow was
black. Neither Therese nor Manfred
®oticed. Both had been born and raised in
the Ruhr and, in any case, they were look-
mg forward to their wedding night. As it
turned out, they had somewhat different
Sonceptions of what it should be like.
Manfred might be courtly and old-
toned in his manners, but in the bed-
foom, he was as modern and progressive
‘ eh a as ever stepped out of a porno
e.
ona fese, on the other hand, looked
» tO an extent, talked like a very lib-
+ Up-to-the-minute woman, but in re-
» She was quite conservative in sex-
Matters. She had never engaged in
oral sex, either cunnilingus or fellatio, nor
in anal sex and, if she practiced masturba-
tion, she did so in private and not in the
presence of someone watching her every
move.
During the course of her wedding night,
Therese was asked to do all these things,
whether she liked it or not. Before the
clock in the hall had struck midnight,
Therese was covered with bruises, bleed-
ing from a number of minor lacerations
and both her eyes were black. She had
been subjected, against her will, to cun-
nilingus, fellatio, anal intercourse and
had been forced to simulate orgasm witha
vibrator while her bridegroom of a few
hours watched.
The following moming, she went toa
doctor to have her injuries attended, but
she did not go to a lawyer to file for di-
vorce. She did not know what to tell him.
She was certainly not going to discuss her
sexual experiences with a stranger, even
if he was a lawyer, and how else could she
justify a suit for divorce filed one day
after the wedding? .
She was not quite so reticent-with the
doctor and she told him what her new
husband had forced her to do because she
thought it completely abnormal and, pos-
sibly, injurious to her health.
The doctor, a comparatively young
man who found the present liberal at-
titudes on sex in Germany the most nor-
mal thing in the world, assured her that
such practices were neither abnormal nor
harmful and, although he did not say so in
so many words, intimated that the best
thing to do was to relax and enjoy it. As he
pointed out, her husband's frustrations
and his violent reaction to them was what
had been injurious to her health.
Therese gave this some thought and
decided that the doctor must know what
he was talking about. That night, she was,
if not actually enthusiastic, at least more
cooperative and she received no black
eyes. Not that she could have in any case.
They were already black from the night
before.
Nonetheless, it seemed that with a little
adjustment on sexual matters, the mar-
riage could work out. Therese set about
making herself agreeable to her husband
and even bought a manual on sex prac-
tice. This she carefully hid under her mat-
tress as she did not want it to fall into
Birgit’s hands. The girl, she knew, had
received sex instruction in school, but
she assumed that it was something rather
mild, on the order of birds and bees,
perhaps with some diagrams of pregnant
women and the developing fetus. She
would have been dumbfounded to learn
that the sex manuals in the school were
considerably more detailed and far more
frankly illustrated than the one she had
bought.
On December 24th, all the girls came
over to spend Christmas Eve and Birgit
decided to stay. She was due to move
back in with her mother and stepfather
the following day, in any case.
Therese had not mentioned a word to
her daughters about her sexual difficul-
ties with Manfred, although she had con-
fided in some of her neighbors. She had
been living in the neighborhood for a long
time and knew many of them well. Their
advice had been to throw Manfred out of
the house and sue for divorce, a course of
action which might sound well enough in
theory, but which would have been dif-
ficult to put into practice.
Birgit’s attitude toward Manfred was
friendly, but wary. After all, she hardly
knew the man. She was, however, going
to get to know him better.
On New Year's Day. Therese Pasold
went off after lunch to visit some friends
in the neighborhood and returned at*
four-thirty. As she entered the house
through the front door, she heard a sound
as of muffled sobbing coming from the
_ kitchen and she ran to the kitchen door
and flung it open.
Birgit was spread-eagled on the kitchen
table, her hands and feet attached to the
legs with dish towels. Her dress was
turned up over her breast and her step-
father, comfortably seated on a kitchen
chair between her legs, was doing exactly
what Therese had divorced Helmut for.
He was performing oral sex on her.
For an instant, Therese Pasold was
completely paralyzed with shock and
horror. She wanted to scream. She
wanted to rush forward and fling herself
on the man. And she could neither move
nor bring a sound over her lips.
Then, the girl on the table gave vent to
alow moan and she realized aghast that it
was not a cry of pain.
The spell was broken. Therese
screamed like a tortured banshee and
flung herself at the back of the child mo-
lester. The fury of her attack was such
(continued on next page)
45
eee
Asean
2 mame ei atthe ie on a nf at sch a!
Five Pretty Victims For The Ugly Sniper
(continued from page 41)
said hopefully an hour later when a lab
technician came looking for him.
The lab man shook his head. ‘Sorry.
We have a match for you. The Kreutzer
slug and this Walter one were fired from
the same .22 caliber rifle.”
Sergeant Leslie rushed his evidence to
Sheriff Eugene Biscailuz, briefing the top
county lawman on the case and filing a
personal request for assistance.
The sheriff unhesitatingly assigned a
dozen extra plainclothesmen to the Nor-
walk substation. It was decided to throw
a blanket of special patrols over the area
bounded by Norwalk Boulevard on the
west, Valley View Avenue on the east,
Imperial Highway on the north, Rosec-
rans Avenue on the south. Somewhere
inside this rectangle, the officials felt, lay
the stamping grounds of the mysterious
sniper.
As he drove back to Norwalk, Sergeant
Leslie tried to map out the area involved
in the mystery shootings. North of the
patrolled section lay the Norwalk State
Hospital, with possibly some violent
mental cases, and beyond that an oil field
which attracted a flow of transient work-
ers. Teere was another oil field to the
northeast, near Whittier, and one to the
east at Fullerton. If the sniper started
showing up in these places, it was going to
be hard to run him down.
At the substation, Sergeant Leslie set
his men into a two-pronged action. Some
were assigned to go from door to door to
inquire about rifle ownership. Others
went out to drag in certain unruly young-
sters of the community for questioning.
The officers on loan from central head-
quarters arrived early on the next momn-
ing, the 29th, and began an efficient pat-
rol, two men per car, of the endangered
zone.
Leslie checked out the reports as they
came in through the workday. Nothing
suspicious was noted by the patrol teams,
a few teen-agers had been interrogated
but released when they could prove their
whereabouts at the times of the shoot-
ings. Half a dozen .22 rifles were on the
way to the crime laboratory for ballistics
testing.
The street lights went on that evening
and a lot of pretty, young women ven-
tured out in the Norwalk area — potential
targets for the sniper. But in Norwalk,
Sergeant Leslie had no cause to worry.
Nina Bice, 25-year-old divorcee, stopped
at a brightly neoned drive-in stand on At-
lantic Avenue in East Los Angeles, about
seven miles from the Norwalk substation.
Nina wore slacks, white bobby socks,
loafers, and a nicely filled sweater. She
42
might just as well have been wearing a
bulls-eye target.
Despite her trim figure, Nina’s most
attractive feature was her smoothly com-
plexioned face with wide, lustrous eyes.
Her escort watched the girl and thought
she was charming, even over the top of a
sandwich and the rim of a coffee cup.
Other eyes watched Nina Bice, and found
. her beautiful, over the iron sights of a .22
rifle.
The brunette’s lovely face suddenly
reddened in one tiny spot and she slid
from her stool, coffee cup spilling onto
the counter, sandwich flying. apart and
dropping. Nina tumbled all the way to the
ground and didn’t move. Her escort, the
clerk and other patrons ran to the fallen
girl, but there seemed no way to stop the -
blood which was gushing from her face.
Someone phoned for an ambulance and
then called the police.
‘No use,” a customer said, lowering
Nina’s head. ‘‘She’s gone.”
Lt. Floyd Rosenberg and a team from
the sheriff’s homicide detail arrived at the
hamburger drive-in as the ambulance
medic was confirming the customer’s
diagnosis of death. Rosenberg nodded to
his men, two began to unpack photo-
graphic gear, others rounded the witnes-
ses together in a tight little group.
“Gunshot wound,”’ the doctor told
Rosenberg. ‘‘Looks like a small caliber to
me."
The doctor advised Lieutenant Rosen-
berg there would be little hope of working
out an angle of flight from the position of
the bullet strike. The slug had bored
straight on into a curved portion of flesh,
the curvature making it impossible to fig-
ure an accurate trajectory for the bullet.
Photographs were taken, the corpse
’ was carried off and the lieutenant got on
the telephone to contact his headquar-
ters. ‘‘Call in all information you can get
from Norwalk substation on that sniper
they're hunting,” he said. ““The same
character may have wandered over into
East Los Angeles and killed a woman.”
Top priority was given the death bullet
when it was rushed from the morgue to
the crime laboratory. The pellets reco-
vered in the Walter and Kreutzer shoot-
ings were removed from the file and
placed under the comparison microscope
with the Nina Bice death slug. A tight-
faced technician peered for a long time,
revolving each bullet slowly, then
reached for a nearby telephone and said
one word: ‘Homicide.’
Lieutenant Rosenberg took the report
—the Walter, Kreutzer, and Bice bullets
were a perfect match. The sniper of Nor-
+
walk had become the killer of East Los —
Angeles. Reet.
Three shootings in three nights — one
of them fatal — was a news item which
splashed Los Angeles papers with huge
headlines and boomed importantly over
the radio and television newscasts. A
phantom with a rifle was roaming the city
and its suburbs, looking for human
targets. Any woman might be the next
victim. Anybody at all might be the de-
mented gunman or gunwoman. Fear fol-
lowed women down every street, even
into their homes.
Police faced the night of August 30 —
the fourth night — with the grim know-
ledge that a new shooting would bring
strong criticism if they failed to trap the
sniper. Regular and extra patrols
throughout sprawling Los Angeles
watched carefully for any person carrying
a long bundle.
Hours ticked off. Midnight came and
went, closing time for drinking estab-
lishments was reached, lights winked off
and soon Los Angeles was asleep. There.
had been no shots. The sniper, appar-
ently, had been frightened off by the tre-
mendous publicity given to the murderof
Nina Bice.
Lieutenant Rosenberg and Detective
Sgt. Richard Dailey launched a careful
probe into the backgrounds of the three
targets to determine if there were any re
mote possibility of a common factor.in
their lives. After talking to their relatives,
reviewing old records and inverviewing
the two live women, the detectives were
forced to conclude that the sniper wasa
psycho. There appeared to be no motive
for the shootings, there were no further
. investigative avenues to explore.
Police vigilance continued even if the |
detection had reached a standstill. And
vigilance paid off. August came to an end
without further incidents. The collected
.22 rifles were tested, found to be the
wrong guns for the three slugs and were
returned to their owners. The month of
September saw the sniper story slip from
the pages of the newspapers and gradu-
ally from the memories of Los Angeles
citizens. By October there hadn’t been
another sniping and even at police head-
quarters the feeling: was that the menace
was at an end. :
There had been three shootings of
three successive days — then nothing.”
Was it possible the sniper had moved to.
another part of the country? Had the
death of Nina Bice frightened him into
abandoning his dangerous sport?
On October 16, two and a half months
after the murder of Nina Bice, ®
10-year-old student named Patricia Ellea
Bryant stood on a street corner in Dow
ney waiting for the morning school but.
Her right elbow suddenly began to sting
(continued on next page) i.
as she had never been stung before. Then
blood gushed to the pavement.
The child screamed and startled pas-
sersby ran to help her. They found
Patricia’s elbow bone virtually shattered
by a rifle bullet. But nowhere, up and
down the street, was there a sign of a man
: with or without a gun. The police and an
ambulance were summoned, and in the
wake of the excitement came Lieutenant
Rosenberg.
Downey is located mid-way between
Norwalk and the hamburger stand where
Nina Bice had been slain. Upon hearing
the report of the shooting, Rosenberg
immediately connected it to the earlier
crimes of the phantom and mshed to
Downey to reopen the sniper investiga-
tion. ’
Questioning of the wounded girl and
witnesses brought forth no workable
leads. Once more the phantom had fired
from ambush without leaving a trace.
Rosenberg obtained the latest slug and
forwarded it to the crime laboratory in
downtown Los Angeles. He was not at all
surprised to learn that it was an exact
match for the three earlier sniper slugs.
His phone call to the sheriff’s office was
preceded by. a flood of indignant mes-
sages from angry and alarmed citizens.
“The sniper’s at work again,” the |
sheriff said, beating Rosenberg to the
punch. ‘‘This time the newspapers will
feally cry for action. I've had several
top-level blasts on it already.”’
“All we can do is put on more patrols,”’
Rosenberg said, ‘‘and check the gun
stores."
The patrols brought in a number of
suspicious characters. But they all sup-
plied good alibis and were turned loose.
With the renewed alarm for the phantom,
Police began to be flooded with tips,
mostly of an anonymous nature. The tips
were checked out, as a matter of police
policy, but led only to frustration for the
investigating officers.
One thing became clear:the sniper was
no ordinary criminal. He would not be
Caught in any police roundup of suspici-
us characters or be spotted by any un-
trained citizen. Phantom, the newswrit-
ers had named him, and phantom he was.
October saw no more of him. Police
patrols returned to normal. The month of
November passed quietly until the 22nd.
In Riviera, four miles north of Norwalk,
Mrs. Irma Megrdle was working in her
garden at the side of her house. She was
bending over, weeding, when she fancied
she heard a light pop.
Before she could straighten, a shining
slug struck her in the thigh, knocking the
limb out from under her and causing her
to fall to her knees. Publicity had been so
mitense about the phantom sniper that the
first thought in Irma's mind was that she
Was another victim. Discovering that her
‘jury was slight, she bravely limped
_*found to the front of her house. It had
seemed to her that the shot had come
from that direction, but now the street
was empty and silent.
She hurried inside the house and called
a doctor and the police. Once more
Lieutenant Rosenberg joined the inves-
tigation, once more the net result of leg-
work and interrogation was a single,
crushed bit of lead — a .22 caliber rifle
bullet which, lab men soon reported, had
been fired from the phantom sniper’s
weapon.
The investigation was renewed, the
patrols were reinforced and again the
sniper lapsed into inactivity. Not until
December 26, did another .22 bullet whirl
down his rifle barrel to speed out toward
an unsuspecting woman.
Mrs. Audry Murdock was standing be-
fore her ironing board in the safety of her
home in Garvey when a window pane
shattered with a crash and a sharp pain
burned into her hip. Blood oozed onto her
clothing, she bit her lips against the agony
as she made her way to the telephone.
Hard on the heels of the doctor came the
police, followed by the untiring Lieuten-
ant Rosenberg.
Assured that Audrey Murdock’s life
was not in danger, Rosenberg questioned
her but found again that the target — No.
6 and the fifth woman to be hit — had no
information to give. Only the ballistics
department of the crime lab had anything
definite — again, a flawless match of the
Murdock bullet with those used by the
sniper on earlier occasions.
Rosenberg had been keeping two care-
ful charts — one mapping the locations of
the shooting. Garvey, he realized, was
the farthest point from the original
crimes, about ten miles from Norwalk.
Yet it was easily and rapidly reached via
Rosemead Boulevard, so location this
time was useless as a detection device, as
it had been before.
Rosenberg’s second chart proved more
interesting. This one showed locations,
too — the locations of the wounds on the
bodies of ths sniper’s victims. The first
woman had been shot just above the hip,
the second had almost been shot in the
head, the next — Nina Bice — was hit in
the face, the fourth in the elbow, the fifth
in the thigh, and now another in the hip.
‘‘Isthere or isn’t there a pattern here?”
he asked Sergeant Dailey. Both sleuths
examined the chart closely.
The shot which had struck the young
student’s elbow might have been in-
tended for her hip.but had hit the elbow
instead, only inches away. Nina Bice had
been shot in the face, her most fascinating
feature. The near-hit in the head had been
fired at a woman who was seated inside
her house — meaning a shot at her lower
body was impossible. Lieutenant Rosen-
berg wonderéd it the sniper wasn’t aiming
at the mid-section, shooting women out
of some strangely distorted sex motive.
The question was taken to some of the
most advan¢ed psychiatrists in the city.
None had ever heard of a similar
psychological abnormality, but all agreed
it was possible the phantom sniper was
shooting women to satisfy a sadistic sex
impulse. Because of this, detectives
began to work through the files on sex
criminals, seeking records which in-
cluded the use of firearms in any way,
since the noisy weapon — the gun — is
not the usual choice of the sex maniac.
The first three months of 1952 passed
without event. Detectives assigned to the
sniper case wondered if Rosenberg had
hit the nail on the head so accurately that:
his sex motive theory had panicked the
sniper into giving up his dangerous past-
time. But on April 15, 1952, the phantom
started a new year of trigger pulling.
Los Nietos is located three miles due
north from Norwalk along Norwalk
Boulevard. and it was here that Lieuten-
ant Rosenberg found another private
home surrounded by police cars, photo-
graphers, and a clamoring crowd of curi-
ous spectators. Rosenberg spoke briefly
with the local officers, then went into a
quiet room with the latest target, Joan
Frances Hiles, and let Sergeant Dailey
draw the story from her while he ob-
served the 22-year-old housewife.
Joan Hiles was probably the most
beautiful of the seven girls the phantora
had fired at. She was still beautiful —
because the sniper’s bullet had missed.
Her story was not unlike the others.
Her husband had been at work on the
night shift .at an industrial plant. Her
4-year-old son was sound asleep in his
nursery. Joan had been viewing televi-
sion with a neighbor, a railroad worker’
due on his job at midnight.
At 10 o'clock the television show
ended and the neighbor excused himself
and left for his home. Joan stepped into
the nursery to see that the little boy was
all right. She then went on into the
kitchen, remained there about two mi-
nutes, and returned to the livingroom and
switched on a new television program.
She sat down in an armchair, drawing
her legs up under her comfortably. Sud-
denly the glass in one livingroom window
smashed and the sound of a gunshot
reached Joan’s ears as something
thumped into the plaster wall on the op-
posite side of the room.
‘| remembered about the phantom
sniper,”’ she told the officers. ‘I dropped
to the floor immediately, crawled to the
phone and called my husband at the plant.
He told me to call the sheriff's office and
stay away from the windows until the
police arrived.”
Deputy J.R. Wagnon nodded in agree-
ment. ‘‘When we got here, Mrs. Hiles
was well hidden from the front. We
searched the grounds quickly but there
(continued on next page)
43
L
is
A
pdathird... anda fourth. She ran to the
goddle of the drive and stood there wait-
Ina few seconds Manconi burst out
the shrubbery which lined both sides of
we road and gave her the signal. The deed
sad been accomplished. Luciano De Lip-
wach was dead. ; ‘
A fast Fiat 600 careened around a curve
athe road and squealed to a stop. Mar-
sano was behind the wheel and his
ohort yanked open the door on the pas-
wenger side and got in. The car scorched
sebder as it leaped forward and vanished
down the road.
Franca broke into a run and headed in
#e direction taken by her husband just
sinutes ago. Several hundred yards
gown the winding lane she came to the
white Peugeot nosed into the- foliage at
the side of the road, its engine still run-
sng. Luciano lay sprawled several feet
away from the car. She calmly ap-
seoached until she stood over the still
form. As she looked down at the face of
ter husband she could tell that he had not
&ed an easy death. There had been in-
tense pain and his face was twisted in a
grotesque grimace. Gingerly, she nudged
Me corpse with the toe of her silver slip-
per. Then she ran back to the house:
where she placed a frantic call to the
police.
“Please hurry! I just heard some gun-
“hots. I'm afraid something terrible has
happened. Come quickly!’’ she screamed
mto the telephone. Ina gesture which was
acredit to her ingenuity, she left the
phone dangling.
Several squad cars were immediately
&spatched to the scene, followed soon
after by a speeding ambulance. Members
of the Italian carabinieri secured the
‘rime scene while their comrades con-
ducted a preliminary interview with the
comely young woman inside the villa.
She wept and wailed and tore at her
bronze tinted hair in a well-presented por-
'rayal of a grief-stricken widow.
Police were ata loss to establish a mo-
‘ve. The victim’s wallet had been left
‘Mtact. His slayers had not wanted his car
and his wristwatch and ring had not been
‘emoved, thus ruling out a murder-for-
Profit. Signora de Lipsich, dabbing her
Fyes with a damp hankie throughout the
“ourse of the subsequent interview, was
unable to provide the investigators with a
™MOllve,
nee heat was on and the stoolies were
“Xing. Less than 24 hours after the
‘hooting death of Franca’s husband had |
. . reported, police were ready to draw
- /€ net. Giuseppe Indovina, Giovanni
there and Alberto Coppola were among
licniac, to be booked and held for ques-
i ng. The three suspects proved to be
»Perative and there were several more
Wick arrests,
nee 8, four days after her husband
Work fen gunned down on his way to
» Police drove to the swank villa lo-
cated in the village of Stella San
Giovanni. At first Franca denied every-
thing, but her facade of innocence was
gradually ripped to shreds. She began to
make certain subtle admissions. When
obliged to elaborate, the entire sordid
story of the callous plot was exposed. She
was arrested and charged in connection
with her husband’s death.
Franca later tried desperately to shift
the burden of guilt onto her lover, the
burly truckdriver, Andriano Tagliano.
He, in turn, managed successfully to
convince authorities that he himself had
not been directly involved or implicated
in her bizarre scheme. For his coopera-
‘tion in the case, he was not charged.
At this time a total of seven persons are
awaiting trial on an assortment of
charges. Antonio Marciano and Giacomo
Manconi have been booked with murder.
Rosalba Alismoa faces a charge of being
an accessory before the fact of murder.
Coppola, Tasso and Indovina were all
charged as being accomplices and for
conspiring to commit murder. Shapely
Franca is there, too, charged with having
conspired and solicited the contractual
services of five zindividuals for the pur-
pose of bringing about the murder of a
Husband. ;
*
_ Five Pretty Victims For The Ugly Sniper
(continued from page 37)
viewed Mrs. Kretuzer’s neighbors and
had sought information from local gun-
smiths and rifle clubs. The crumpled little
chunk of metal — about the size of a .22
bullet — was the only clue. Because this ©
caliber was in wide use, the sergeant
placed little value on the pellet as a lead.
‘*Probably some thoughtless person
fired a shot wide of the target and didn’t
know it hit somebody,’’ he told the lab.
man. ‘‘Give it the routine treatment and
alert me if it matches anything turned up
in other local shootings.” Rees
The report on the ballistics tests of the
slug was phoned through to Sergeant Les-
lie the next afternoon — phoned because
there wasn’t much to the report and it was
_all negative. The bullet was a .22 which
didn’t match up with anything in the large
collection of slugs at the crime laborat-
ory. This supported Leslie’s theory of a
stray bullet striking Lois Kretuzer.
Three hours later the Norwalk substa-
tion buzzed with excitement as Sergeant
Leslie took a phone call and bolted out to
his car without waiting to explain to the
desk man. Minutes later, he braked to a
rocking halt in front of the suburban home
of Lloyd Walter, who met him at the
door. Leslie noticed the shattered win-
dow pane before he went inside.
‘Somebody pegged a shot through the
window,’’ Walter said. ‘‘It almost hit my
wife.” :
Leslie rushed inside, took a fast look at
the shards of glass on the living room
floor, then studied a small hole in the wall
opposite the broken window. ‘‘Where
were you seated, Mrs. Walter?”’ he asked
a palefaced young woman.
She pointed to an armchair, then sat
down in it. Her head, in natural position,
came within an inch of the bullet hole.
The detective sergeant couldn’t meet
the housewife’s eyes. He knew now that
this was not just someone with a gun.
ws
This was somebody an inch away from
being a killer. 7
The Norwalk substation was going to
need help from police downtown, and
plenty of it. A radio call from Leslie’s car
to the substation advised the desk man to
contact central headquarters and request
detective assistance. :
Sergeant Leslie then walked around
the house, made a careful search of the
grounds, but found no tracks or worth-
while clues. He went: back inside the
house. *‘Do you know the Kreutzers?”’
he asked the Walter couple. — aoe
They didn’t know Lois Kreutzer, they
didn’t know anyone who knew her and
they doubted if the Kreutzers knew them.
Thirty minutes later Leslie knew what
the Walters knew — that they had no
enemies, Mrs. Walter had never been fol-
lowed home by strange men, they had
never received threatening phone calls,
none of their friends were screwballs,
none of the youngsters in the neighbor-
hood were the type called juvenile delin- | ~
quents. —
As with the Kreutzers, the sergeant
drew a blank except for the deadly bit of ~
lead. But even the blank revealed one
thing: If the human targets didn’t know
each other, there was a good chance the
sniper didn’t know them. This meant he
was shooting at them for the lone thing
they had in common — both targets were
women.
Sergeant Leslie took the second slug to
the Los Angeles crime laboratory and
turned it in. Ballistics tests would decide
the matter, whether it was sheer coinci-
dence — two accidents of similar nature
at the same time — or whether a maniac
was at large in the suburbs of Los
Angeles, firing at women with a rifle.
‘Tell me they’re different slugs,’’ he
(continued on next page)
41
poten
wire and doesn’t say a word. It gives
you a queer feeling, besides making
you angry and very upset.”
“Do these calls ever come when your
husband is home?” Rosenberg asked
casually.
Mary Krebs shook her head and
smiled at her husband. “I’ve even ac-
cused him of checking up on me, but
he’s as mystified as I am.”
Rosenberg frowned thoughtfully and
said nothing. But later, back at head-
quarters, he went into long consulta-
tion with Sergeants Leslie and Dailey
about the situation.
“T have a hunch the break we’ve been
waiting for has finally happened,” he
said slowly. This time the sniper made
a mistake. Two mistakes, in fact. Re-
member, it was sheer accident that Mrs.
Krebs wasn’t killed. She would have
been if she’d been sitting in her usual
place on the davenport. Only the would-
be killer couldn’t know that she wasn’t
because the drapes were drawn. across
the window. But he knew where she
should be sitting and took a chance on
her still being there!”
He paused and took a look at the
intent expressions worn by his co-work-
ers on the case and nodded briefly.
“You understand as well as I do what
that means—that the sniper was familiar
with Mary Krebs’ habits. Very familiar!
Now one more thing. Suppose you were
that man and took a shot that was
literally in the dark and wanted to find
out whether it had found its mark or
* not? It wouldn’t be smart to run the
risk of taking a look in person, for then
you might get caught in a tight spot
with too much explaining to do.”
“I’d telephone,” Sergeant Dailey cut
in quickly. :
“Exactly!” Rosenberg snapped crisp-
ly. “And if my guess is right, that’s ex-
actly what our man did. Let’s get him
down here right now for a bit more
questioning.”
A half an hour later the man they
wanted was sitting in Rosenberg’s office,
passively blank as to his reason for be-
ing there and quietly insisting that he
knew no more about the shooting than
the little he had already told.
But Rosenberg had a feeling he was
repeating a role he had already care-
fully memorized for just such a grilling.
Suddenly the homicide chief switched
tactics.
“Why did you call Mary so often
and then not speak to her?” he demand-
ed. “You knew where she was well
enough.”
“J guess I just wanted to get her to
thinking,” the man said. “No harm in
that, is there?”
“There could have been harm enough
in firing that shot through the win-
dow!” Rosenberg pressed grimly.
The man looked back at him with
tortured eyes and for all his husky
build and physical strength there seemed
a tragic softness about him.
“But I didn’t harm her,” he pro-
tested. “My only thought was to frighten
her.” ;
Rosenberg nodded slowly as thoug
it were a natural thing and he under-
stood. Then without warning his voice
cracked sharply, “But it didn’t turn out
that way with Nina Bice, did it? You
killed her!” '
“It was an accident. I didn’t intend
to. I was aiming at the cup in her
hand 2a" ,
And then all at once, as though eager
to cleanse his mind and conscience, he
was spilling out the whole story—a
story that he seemed to only vaguely
understand himself. He knew only that
there was an inner, driving impulse that
led him to shoot at women. Afterwards,
in remorse and self-disgust, he would
drink himself into a state of temporary
forgetfulness. Then the compulsion
would come again, and grow until it
would not be denied.
That was what had happened with
Mary Krebs. When he left her he had
gone home, taken out his high-power
rifle, returned to a spot outside her
living room window and fired.
Then he had telephoned to learn the
results of that shot in the dark.
The next day Evan Thomas drove
with the officers and pointed out the
places where the previous shootings
had taken place, explaining where he
had parked his car or hidden each time.
The lethal rifle was found in his base-
ment.
Later he was arraigned before Muni-
cipal Court Judge R. Ray Bennett on
charges of murder and seven counts of
assault with a deadly weapon.
It wasn’t until March 15th, 1953, that .
he was finally brought to trial, at which
time he pleaded guilty to one count of
murder and five counts of assault with
a deadly weapon. Judge Philip H.
Richards finally handed down the sent-
ence—that of death in the gas chamber.
A series of legal appeals were dis-
allowed and the thrill sniper, whose
strange compulsion led to the death of
the unknowing and innocent Nina Bice,
paid for his strange sexual titillations
with his own life in San Quentin’s death
chamber.
Editor’s Note: The name Mary Krebs is
fictitious.
FROM CHOIR BOY TO MOBLAND
(Continued from page 35)
only fruitless rounds of pointless in-
vestigation.
The Ainsworth-Meng caper is proof
of the fact that criminal history is writ-
ten by the efforts of master crooks to
foil the efforts of master locksmiths. A
lied-motif in the evolution of modern
criminal techniques concerns itself with
the construction of increasingly “im-
pregnable” strongboxes to thwart a
breed of increasingly resourceful thieves.
The Phantom, himself, was to blame
for the difficulties which now beset a
gang whose ambition was to heist a
mine payroll. Harried by the string of
Jawarski holdups, the coal companies
worked out a pay delivery system which
was apparently foolproof. They hired
Brinks Company armored trucks to
transport funds. Armed guards rode
with the cash in a locked, steel-sided
fortress. A carload of vigilant outriders
accompanied the trucks on their rounds.
70
}
Nothing short of an organized war
could disrupt the system or halt the
trucks.
Paul Jawarski was not beyond plan-
ning a battle campaign to accomplish
his purpose. War employed the most
drastic of methods. The Phantom took
a leaf from the conduct of battle among
the nations.
He figured there were two ways to
take a Brink truck. One was to catch
the delivery at the terminus of the run.
The other was to nab the truck en route.
He decided to try.the first alternative
just to see what would happen.
On November 20th of 1925, Jawarski
and four gunmen walked into the Ains-
worth-Meng Company’s office. Paul
took up a position just outside the door
of the cashier’s cubicle. Jimmy Wright,
one of his lieutenants, put the muzzle
of his gun against the forehead of a
blonde telephone operator who was at
the switchboard.
“Kiddo,” he said, “let’s see what you
look like stretched out on the floor.”
The girl, terrified at the command,
was slow to do his bidding. Wright rap-
ped her on the head with the gun barrel.
“It’s not what you think, kid,” he said.
“I only mess with that stuff after busi-
ness hours. This is just so you'll be out
of the line of fire.”
Whimpering, the blonde stretched out
face down on the floor. She was soon
joined by the cashier who was led out
of his cage by another of the Phantom’s
henchmen. A third member of the gang
walked in and covered the two prostrate
employees while Wright and the other
henchman guarded the door.
There was the noise of footsteps out-
side. A Brinks Company guard, strode
into the office carrying two heavy money
bags.
The shooting started the second the
guard was over the threshold. A Jawar-
ski henchman opened up with his shot-
gun and blasted the Brinks guard with
both barrels. Wright scooped up the
money and started to run. Paul and
the other gunman followed on the dou-
ble.
Outside, a second Brinks guard, jump-
ed from the truck at the sound of the:
shots. Jawarski plugged him through
DETECTIVE CASES
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iree children lies
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ish like a hornet’s
vhen the physician
There an X-ray
en. It had pierced
wife and mother
he victim herself,
.. Sergeant Gilbert
walk believed she
of some reckless
r .22 slug splinter-
f Lloyd Walter in
DRAGNET CASES
Norwalk, and buried itself in a wall only inches from Mrs,
Walter's head, and then Sergeant Leslie seriously began to
wonder.
The second bullet had been fired from the same rifle as
the first. The Kreutzers and the Walters did not know each
other, and they could imagine no mutual acquaintances.
And like the Kruetzers, the Walters could think of no possi-
ble reason for what obviously had been an attempt on the
attractive young matron’s life.
A roundup of known juvenile delinquents produced no
trace at all of any kid roaming the suburban areas with a
rifle.
Then on the night of August 29th—the third night in a
row—the sniper struck again.
N that evening, 25-year-old Nine Bice, a divorcee with
three small children, drove with a friend, William
Hannah, to a small hamburger stand on Atlantic Boulevard
in East Los Angeles. They sat at the open-air bar, munch-
ing sandwiches, sipping coffee and quietly chatting. '
Suddenly Mrs. Bice’s cup fell from her hand and she
began to topple from her stool. Mr. Hannah caught her as
blood gushed from a small wound in her face. By the time
an ambulance arrived, Nina Bice was dead.
She had been shot—with a .22-calibre weapon. Hannah
and a couple of other patrons remembered having heard
a faint spat just before she collapsed, but none could tell
whence the sound or the deadly little pellet had come.
Now Lieutenant Floyd Rosenberg, head of the sheriff's
homicide detail, and Detective Sergeant Richard Dailey en-
tered the investigation, but found nothing to connect the
three women with any possible motive for murder.
There was a maniac loose in eastern Los Angeles County.
Now he had proved what a menace he was, and the cops
knew full well that he could be expected to go on the
prowl again in any of hundreds of blocks of a vast suburban
district.
Special details cruised the streets of a dozen communities,
on the alert for any man or boy who could possibly be
carrying a small rifle.
It could be rather easily hidden from view, they were
aware. It might be a weapon with a sawed-off barrel, or
the sniper might be toting it disassembled, to be put to-
gether only when he was ready to use it again.
In the city, other homicide sleuths lent their aid in’ the
hunt for the phantom, ‘The records of criminals were
searched for similar offenders, but the hunt was fruitless.
NIX weeks passed, and the mysterious rifleman was not
heard from again. But on the morning of October 16th,
while she waited for her school bus in Downey, 10-year-old
Patricia Ellen Bryant was struck in the forearm, and her
right elbow shattered, by a bullet that came snarling out of
nowhere.
The entire city and its environs now were in an uproar.
Details of -sheriff’s officers worked overtime, patrolling,
snatching up scores of men whose appearance or action
incited the least degree of suspicion, running down tips and
false alarms. But: as the holidays neared, they were no
neartr than they had ever been to naming the phantom
gunman. aoe
It was on November 22nd that Mrs. Irma Megrdle, while
at work in her garden in Rivera, heard the light snap ‘of a
gun and felt a slug hit her in the thigh.
She hobbled to the front of her home, for it seemed the
bullet had come from that direction, but there: was no one
in sight, no auto speeding away.
The sniper waited another month, and then, on the day
after Christmas, Mrs. Audrey Murdock took a bullet in her
hip as she stood ironing in her kitchen in Garvey.
_“The victims,” said Lieutenant Rosenberg,” are all wom-
en, except the little girl. The basic motive behind these at-
tucks must be sex.”
“And these really unusual deviates,” Sergeant Daily said,
“are often the craftiest criminals on earth. Sometimes they
turn out to be men that no one has even suspected of an
abnormal thought.”
For almost four months, then, the phantom sniper was
silent.
On the night of April 15th, 1952, beautiful Joan Frances
Hiles, 22, sat on the davenport in her living room in Los
Nictos, watching a TV show.
George Hiles, her husband, was at work, Their four-and-
a-half-year-old son was in bed, But Mrs. Hiles, was not
alone.
With her sat Evan Thomas, a young neighbor who worked
on a midnight shift for a railroad, and who occasionally
dropped by to watch television when his wife and two young
children were not at home.
He had phoned earlier that evening to say his family
were in San Gabriel visiting his wife’s pard¢nts, and Mrs.
Hiles had invited him over. Her husband knew of Thom-
as’ visits, and did not object. ‘The two: families were good
(Continued on page 55)
friends.
Detective Sgt. Don Mead holds rifle
which in hands of a sadistic deviate
terrorized hundreds of blocks, sent
special police cars hunting killer.
POLICE DRAGNET CASES
Evan Thomas had spent evening looking
at television with wife of a friend.
After he left bullet crashed through
draped windows where woman had sat.
Nina Bice was the only one who paid
with her life to satisfy the sex urge
of a maniac who satisfied his lusting
by getting women in sights of his gun.
45
4
the
Los Angeles
PHANTOM
on,
TO MUA a Se
He had an urge to kill—
\
to fix a girl, any girl,
in the sights of his gun
and squeeze off a bullet
Body of divorcee Nina Bice, 25-year-old mother of three children lies
in front of open hamburger stand where mystery bullet out of nowhere
struck her in face and allowed her life blood to drain away on sidewalk.
OST guys get their kicks innocently ecnough—a
drink, a golf ball sailing out over a green fair-
way, a fast baserunner stealing third, a pretty
woman, the strike of a bass on a spinning rod.
And the Phantom Sniper of Los Angeles got his
out of women, all right—but only when they were
lined up in the sights of his deadly little rifle. He was one
of the most puzzling, and most frightening, criminals ever
to plague the force of the Los Angeles County sheriff.
It was carly in the morning of August 27th, 1951, that
the sniper first struck.
Mrs. Lois Kreutzer on that morning rushed to a telephone
pay station on the eastern outskirts of the city to summon
a doctor for an ill child. As she was leaving the booth, there
aq \
was a sharp pain in her side, a searing flash like a hornet’s
sting.
Mrs. Kruetzer reached her home, but when the physician
arrived he sent her to a hospital at once. There an X-ray
located a .22-calibre bullet in the abdomen. It had pierced
the liver and a kidney.
The attack upon the young and pretty wife and mother
could not be reasonably explained by the victim herself,
or by her husband or relatives or friends. Sergeant Gilbert
Leslie of the sheriff’s substation in Norwalk believed she
must have been the accidental target of some _ reckless
youth with a gun,
However, the following evening another .22 slug splinter-
ed a living-room window in the home of Lloyd Walter in
POLICE DRAGNET CASES
CA
Norwalk, and buric
Walter's head, and
wonder.
The second bull:
the first. The Kreu
other, and they c
And like the Kruet
ble reason for wh.
attractive young m
A roundup of }
trace at all of any
rifle.
Then on the ni:
row—the sniper str
N that evening
three small «
Hannah, to a sma!
in East Los Ange!
ing sandwiches, sij
Suddenly Mrs.
began to topple tr
blood gushed fron
an ambulance art
She had been +
and a couple of
a faint spat just |
whence the sound
Now. Licutenan
homicide detail, at
tered the ivestip
three women with
There was a me
Now he had prov
knew full well
prowl again in any
district.
Special details ¢
on the alert for
carrying a small:
It could be rat
aware. It might |
the sniper might
gether only when
In the city, ot!
hunt for the ph
searched for simi!
Detective Sgt. Dor
which in hands of
terrorized hundre«
special police car
POLICE DRAGN!
story somewhat unconvincing one.
He said he had heard the gunshot
while in his own home, two doors from
the Hiles house. When he looked oul,
however, he saw no one in the neigh-
borhood,
“I thought of this:sniper right away,”
he said, “so I called Joan to make sure
she was okay.”
“I think you phoned for another
reason than that, Thomas,” Lieutenant
Rosenberg said.
“What reason would I have?”
“To learn if you had killed her. You
are the sniper we’ve been chasing all
these months.”
Thomas made no answer to this.
“Mrs. Hiles’ living room drapes were
drawn shut,” the lieutenant went on.
“The sniper could not have seen into
the room. Yet if Mrs. Hiles had been °
‘sitting on the davenport—where she
always sat, and where she had been
all evening while you were there—that
bullet would have killed her.
“It was fired by someone who knew
the exact layout of the room—and who
had reason to believe she was on the
davenport at the instant the gun was
fired. You, Thomas! Nobody but you.
You threw away one of your cigarettes,
the brand you're smoking now, beside
the vacant house next door. You fired
the rifle. Then you had to know what
damage you had caused. So you used
the telephone to see if Mrs. Hiles was
still alive. You’ve bothered her with
those crazy phone calls—”
“Yeah, | have called her a few times.”
“Why did you try to kill her? Why
did you shoot all those other women,
that little girl?”
There was a strange light in Evan
Thomas’ eyes. He was breathing heavily
as he replied.
“It’s like this,” he said. “My wife's
away, and I get to cruising around, and
I see these women, and I sort of want
dates with them. It’s something like
.that, but still it’s different.
“I like to look at them with my
rifle sights on them. I don’t really want
to kill them—just scare them. That girl
I killed—it was an accident. I meant to
shoot the coffee cup out of her hand,
but. I missed.
“After I'd shoot a woman who ap-
pealed to me, to satisfy-myself, I'd be-
come morbid and start drinking. I'd stay
drunk till I got the urge again. Then
I'd pick out another woman and shoot
her.”
He handed over his rifle, a high-
power bolt-action gun. Five recovered
bullets had been fired from it.
Thomas eventually pleaded guilty to
murder and to five counts of assault with
a deadly weapon. For the murder charge
he paid with his life in California's le-
thal gas chamber. im
CRIME OF THE CENTURY
(Continued from page 37)
cab, as instructed, when he was told the
body was surely-that of his son.
“We can assure you,” the letter had
said, “that your son will be safely re-
turned to you within six hours of our
receipt of the money.”
The medical examiner was able to
establish that the boy had been dead
before Franks received his first phoned
message from the murderers.
The nation’s horror at the callous-
ness of the crime was matched only by
the fervor of the investigation under the
direction of Cook County State’s At-
torney Robert E. Crowe.
A stocking belonging to the dead boy
was found near the culvert into which
the body had been jammed. No other
article of the boy's clothing was found
alter a foot-by-foot search of the area.
But searchers spotted a pair of horn-
rimmed glasses, and the Franks boy
had worn none. A half-mile from. the
spot, a cold chisel with a taped end was
found not far from the road leading
into the marsh. i
From the letter received by Franks
detectives knew at least one of the
kidnapers was well-educated, They won-
dered, however, at the small amount of
ransom. The wealth of Jacob Franks
was well known, and any professional
criminal would have demanded many
times the amount named. Even a des-
perate man, not practiced in crime until
the kidnap-murder, would have asked
for more than $10,000.
While the horn-rimmed glasses were
traced, detectives concentrated on the
\
56
area of the Franks’ home and the Har-
vard School for Boys, only four blocks
from the huge, expensive house where
the murdered boy had lived. The only
results were the statement of one of
Bobby’s classmates that the boy had
umpired a ball game at school and left
for home at about five o'clock, and that
a grey Winton sedan had started up
near the school and sped away as Bobby
left.
On May 31st an optician with offices
in Chicago’s Loop identified the glasses.
He had made them for a Nathan L.co-
pold of 4754 Greenwood Avenue, an
address in the Hyde Park neighborhood
where Bobby Franks lived and went to
school.
| kd beats on their way to in-
terview Leopold were skeptical.
The Leopold family was known to be
wealthy, and their son, a graduate law
student at the University of Chicago,
seemed a most unlikely candidate for
the title of murderer,
When the investigators were shown to
the study of the Leopold home they
found their subject entertaining a friend,
Richard Locb, a cousin of the murdered
boy. Leopold greeted the detectives with
charming manners,. and immeidately
agreed to accompany them.
Shown the glasses, Leopold said they
resembled his, but his own were at
home. Detectives took him home again,
helped him search for his own. He was
unable to produce any glasses. He was
taken to the hotel where Prosecutor
Crowe was making his headquarters
for the investigation. :
“Have you ever been to the Hege-
wisch marsh?” Crowe asked Leopold.
Certainly, he answered, he had been
there two weeks ago on a bird-watching
expedition, If those were his glasses,
he might have lost them then. This thin-
sounding answer was, however, cor-
roborated by many authorities in the -
ficld of ornithology. Leopold's brilliance
in bird study had led to his lecturing
before many groups, and he had con-
tributed, scientific, technological articles
to journals on ornithology.
Still the glasses had been found at
the spot where Bobby Franks’ body had
been dumped.
Leopold was asked to account for his
movements on the day of the murder.
He detailed his peregrinations, all with
his friend Loeb, in his family’s maroon
Willys-Knight, their lunching together,
dining out, driving through Lincoln
Park looking for two girls they might
pick up, and finding them, then re-
linquishing their finds when the girls
proved uncooperative.
State’s Attorney Crowe sent for
Richard Loeb, who confirmed every de-
tail of his friend's story of the afternoon
and evening of the murder.
Detectives pored over the two state-
ments. They noted that Bobby had been
Loeb's cousin, that Loeb also was the
son of a wealthy family, that he had
often played tennis with Bobby on the
Loebs’ own court, They found that
Loeb, brilliant as his) friend Leopold,
had graduated from the University of
Michigan at 17 and was now doing
graduate work at the University of
Chicago, where he was known as that
rare bird among real scholars: a hand-
some, charming lad who was popular
with girls in the bargain.
These were hardly backgrounds for
killers of children, killers for ransom,
at that. Yet, the glasses. And the per-
haps-too-perfect story of the travels of
the two young men during the hours
when the kidnaping and murder had
taken place. ;
Leopold was asked to remain in the
hotel for further questioning. Then
Crowe asked the last question that could
at that time forge any link with the
crime.
“What make typewriter do you own?”
Leopold answered readily: “A Ham-
mond, Why?"
“The ransom letter,” Crowe told him,
“was typed on an Underwood portable.
You’ve never owned one in the past?”
“Not that Erecall,” Leopold answered,
Reporters covering the investigation
included one who had been a University
of Chicago student the year before. He
remembered that) Leopold sometimes
held group-study sessions in his home
and that the boys had typed their notes
there. The reporter, James Mulroy of
the Daily News, located the notes typed
by students at Leopold’s home. Tests
showed the notes and the ransom letters
had been typed on the same machine.
‘Leopold offered no explanation, con-
tinued to deny he had ever owned an
Underwood, but finally admitted a
friend had once left one at his home.
The friend he named was found to be
abroad, but he had not removed his
POLICE DRAGNET CASES
typewriter fron
much was mac
swore she had
Leopold's desk
Yet the typ:
the house. Eve
several times at
wood machine
The repetitic
only repetition
As the day wo
confidence, res
puzzle could n
Crowe, knov
heart of the mr
shred of proof.
handsome your
detail of his fri
be involved in
located and ur
EFORE Loc
prosecutor
Sven Englund.
pold family.
two,” Englund
were in the m;
couldn't have b
from half-past
night. IT know,
on it all day.”
Both young 1
that, The stors
sake of a thr!
society and thr
depraved relat:
was fully told.
admitted that n
ber, they had ck
and kill a chil
Then they wou
cause the crime
ter minds, wou
not be solved
way dominate
compensating t
cies by ruling
Together the
for concealing |
chose their vic:
their victim. D
car they had c!
going home fr
the car by pr
new tennis rac
him by blows
gagging him.
They had
stopped to ea
corpse into th
found.
They had m
Underwood ty
parts into the
in the city.
At. their t
counsel, the
did not ask fe
their lives. “W
and to this co
ents nor the |
would want t
are as they arc
permanently ts
Leopold an
to life impriso:
1926 Loeb wa
vict who said
razor, tried to
POLICE DRAC
Husband. Ed Megrdle comforts his
wife, Irma, who got gunshot greet-
ings from the kill-crazy Phantom.
THOMAS, Evan, white, gassed CASP (Lod Angeles) January 29, 1954
Reet CeCe
“1 would get restless—and drive where
some girls were, look them over...
If one appealed to me—I would shoot her”’
H* STOPPED the car and got out,
and sunlight struck his eyes. It
hurt. He had worked at the railroad
yard all night, and what his eyes craved
was not sunlight, but the dearth of it,
darkness. But not the crazy, ripped-up
darkness of the yard. They could keep
that, the whole she-bang, the lights—
green flashing go, red screaming stop,
semaphore arms leaping, semaphore
arms dropping, the white whip of a
locomotive headlight rounding a sharp
turn, a track suddenly disclosed, its
rails silver-streaked atid flat, like the
backs of two long knives whose cutting
edges lie buried in the brown flesh of
earth. All that they could keep. The
darkness he craved, was the cool and
quiet nothingness of a room with blinds
drawn, everything shadow.
His name was Evan Thomas, and he
was twenty-eight years old, and married
and the father of two kids, with a
third one on the way. He had a nice
home in Los Nietos, a suburb of Los
Angeles, and a good-paying job, and
he was doing okay, and he would still
be doing okay if he had gotten back
‘into his car that bright, hot morning in
the spring of 1951 and driven straight
home. Maybe not. Going straight home
would not have solved his problem. He
should have gone straight to a psychia-
trist. He would have fascinated him.
; H* WALKED across the street, a
big man with a heavy jaw and a
slow walk, although he could step fast
when he had to. The sun sure was
strong. That was Los Angeles for you.
Too damn much sun. He wished it
would rain. He would stop, then and
there, right smack in the middle of
traffic, and throw back his head and
keep his eyes wide open and let the
rain pound down on his eyeballs. Bet
his eyes would steam.
He went into. the hock shop. It was
dark, but the hot, yellow memory of
the sun stayed in his eyes, blinding him.
He paused, eyes closed, swaying a little.
When he opened them, the hot yellow
was gone, there was only a brown dim-
ness, nice. Toward the back of the
shop was a blob of yellow light, but it
was thin and small. In it stood a man
who was also thin and small.
Thomas went over to the man and
started to say something, but could not.
Talking to strangers always came hard
to him. When the strangers were wo-
men, it was even worse. He never could
figure why, but he just could not say
much to a woman. Even when he was
with a woman he knew, his tongue
twisted except with Clarice, his wife.
The hock shop.man smiled, friendly,
and said, “Hello. What can I do for
you?”
Thomas swallowed. Got to talk. Got
to. Can't walk into a hock shop and
not say. something. Got to say some-
thing. Go ahead. What are you scared
of? Him? Thomas smiled. He's small
by KARL JANSSEN
On jiduslial Melialoos
deat (96 /
“| got excitement out of it. | got a
thrill out of it. It-it gave me satis-
faction,” the killer confessed to police.
and thin, you could break him in two
with your hands. He’s nothing to be
scared of. Go ahead. Speak up.
“I want to buy -a gun,” said Thomas.
The moment the words were out of
his mouth, he could have kicked him-
self. He had not intended to put it so
badly. So nakedly. Words had to be
dressed up. Especially words like gun.
He had it all planned, too. His plan
had been to go up to the hock shop man
and grin and say, “Hello,” friendly,
easy, just as the hock shop man had
spoken, and say, “I'd like to see one
of your rifles, small caliber, good for
target practice.”
Actually, he did not want the rifle
for target practice. There had been a
prowler in the neighborhood, and Clar-
ice had gotten frightened, and he fig-
ured she would feel better with a gun
for company while he was out working
at the yard. But he did not want to
tell the hock shop man that. The hock
shop man might say, “Why don’t you
call the police?”
Why don't you? Thomas asked him-
self. Queer, but the thought had never
occurred to him.
The hell with the cops. One rifle was
worth a dozen cops.
The hock shop man was talking. He
said, “What kind of a gun?” He had
raised his voice. He must*have thought
Thomas was hard of hearing. He must
have asked the question before, and
Thomas had not heard it, because he
was thinking.
“A .22 rifle,” said Thomas. “Some-
thing for target practice.”
The stiffness left the hock shop man’s
face. He became friendly again. He
showed Thomas four rifles. He picked a
single-action, job. It was not as fancy
as the others, but.it would do, and it
was cheaper. He bought a box of cart-
ridges, too. He asked the man to wrap
the gun in paper, and he did, and
Thomas forked over a couple of green-
backs, and got his change and went out.
‘He put the gun and bullets in the car
trunk,
There. That was over with. Now. to
go home and give Clarice your present.
Your present? The gun’s for Clarice,
not for you. What would you want a
gun for? To shoot at tin cans?
He laughed at his joke and then
abruptly he stopped laughing. What
would you want a gun ‘for?
There’ was an answer, and it was
not far off, but he refused to formulate
it. There was something rotten about it,
forbidden, evil, one-of those things you
shied from discussing, even with your-
self. The answer—although still vague,
grey, shapeless—excited him, and at the
same time touched him with uneasiness.
A core formed in it, darkening and
sharpening into words, into clarity, and
his excitement rose, and so did his un-
easiness. Then, quite determinedly, he
shattered it and tossed the tiny dark-
grey fragments down, back into the
depths, the slime, in which they were
born.
He started the car. What would you
want a gun for?
I want it for Clarice, that’s what.
You're nuts. Give a dame a gun, she’s
liable to aim it the wrong way and
maybe shoot herself. Clarice had never
handled a rifle in her life. She’d prob-
ably be in more danger from the gun
than from the prowler. Better bring it
back to the hock shop. Tell him it’s all
off, no sale.
No, Wait. Let’s see if the prowler
turns up ‘again. If he turns up in the
neighborhood again, just once more,
then give her the gun.
He headed home.
Tell the truth, Just why did you buy
the gun?
There it was again, that damned in-
ner voice, nagging. Nagging like a dame.
Got to. shut it up somehow.
He went to a bar and drank a lot
of beer and that shut it up, good.
Det. Dan Jones takes notes beside the covered body of Nina Bice, killed instantly at outdoor refreshment stand.
Weeks p:
turned ut
Clarice the
gun. That 1
ing of Aug
He was 1:
off work th:
gone hom
home to g
kids down
folks. She w
In suburt
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woman. Sh¢
slim.
He drov
ed her ove
knew, with
only a soar
bought the ;
He parke
the trunk
in its pape
the box ot
the wheel,
the floor, «
wrapping
started to |
the bullet
but the bul!
Joan Fran
Phantom, p
let intendec
CONFIDENT!
ns heard a wom-
ran to the back
\ young woman
de. It was Reik,
from a frightful
s dead when an
tat the hospital.
‘alkenrath, chief
detectives, took
» the girl’s mur-
Duncombe and
him search the
. Reik had not
was $11. There
nurder) weapon
tshall, assistant
as a knife.with
fe and at least
those were the
it which had
‘ering two ribs
bronchial tube.
1 hemmorhage.
power in the
‘orted. “Either
ng or was in
fury.”
usual routine
id girl's’ asso-
thing helpful.
‘cent, respecta-
romantic en-
ive, in the ab-
send you my
O-page
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VET CASES
sence of robbery, was that she had
been slain by a sex-poisoned degenerate.
But there was no lead to his identity.
N the weeks that followed, other
crime edged the Slierendregt mur-
der out of the news. But the police
didn’t forget, and they screened thor-
oughly every sex offender they could
get their hands on.
They actually thought they had their
man when they made an arrest on July
23rd. A woman and her small daughter
were molested by a prowler near their
home on East 23rd Street. He was a
large man, and he had actually tried to
kill the woman with an_ ugly-looking
hunting knife, but her screams had
frightened him away.
Cops swarmed over the neighborhood
and nabbed the man before he could
flee the neighborhood. Not only did he
admit the attack, but also told the po-
lice that he was the slayer of Reik
Slierendregt.
Exultant, the officers closely ques-
tioned the suspect, delved into ‘his back-
ground, took him over the murder
scene.
To their dismay they found his con-
fession full of holes. Although he
claimed to have driven to the dentist's
home in a car, it was learned. that he
didn't: know how to drive. Then wit-
nesses came forward to tell that they had
actually seen the man in the Town of
Woodruff at the time of the murder!
When it was discovered that he was
feeble-minded and that he had been
receiving psychiatric treatment, the
police knew that the murderer they
were secking was still at large.
Patiently, they had to. start” their
search anew—a search without leads,
Early in September there was a re-
currence of petty thefts which had
plagued the city a few months back.
A panty thief was at work, but no one
associated this annoying pilferer with
the slayer of the Dutch housemaid.
Bras, panties, girdles and the like
were vanishing from back-yard clothes-
lines. A woman would hang a dainty
underthing on the line in the afternoon
and the next morning it would be gone.
The thief was particularly active
along Fourth Avenue.
Lowell Sandwick who lived on the
200 block decided to do something
about it. His wife, like other pretty
women in the neighborhood, was get-
ting peeved at having her wardrobe
stripped of its underclothes. So Sand-
wick laid plans with two neighbors, Bob
Bandy and Felix Deklever, to decoy the
panty thief into a trap.
Accordingly, on September 25th,
they festooned the clotheslines behind
Sandwick’s home with a tempting ar-
ray of brassieres, panties, slips, and
other intimate feminine apparel that
no sincere and authentic panty filcherer
could resist. Then the three men_ hid
themselves in Sandwick’s living room.
The bandit went for the tantalizing
bait. At 10 P. M. they saw a stealthy
figure slip into the yard and start col-
lecting trophies from the clotheslines.
Armed with bottles and) whatever
POLICE DRAGNET CASES
else was handy, the watchers went for
the thief and quickly overcame his
slight resistance. Then they looked
over their catch and questioned him,
He was a young man, not bad-looking,
with horn-rimmed spectacles. He gave
his name as Leon Livingston and will-
ingly took them to his furnished room.
His captors called the police, and
Officers Dewey Fillis and W. C. Camp-
bell came to make the arrest. They took
with them to the police station the evi-
dence—the fantastic collection of fem-
inine underthings which they had found
scattered all over Livingston’s room.
HERE was another surprising fac-
tor in the case. Livingston actually
worked in the diner across the street
from police headquarters. There wasn’t
an officer at headquarters who hadn’t
ordered a cup of java from Livingston.
Many a time he had leaned across the
counter listening to the cop-talk that
went on constantly in the lunch room.
Some of the officers recalled that the |
counterman had been particularly in-
terested in the progress of the Slieren-
dregt case. It was this fact that gave
Captain Falkenrath an idea.
He talked with the suspect, off and
on, for a week. He grilled him about
the hunting knife he owned, a weapon
whose blade fitted the dimension of
the death thrust. Finally the counter-
man admitted he attempted to rape
four women, but he kept denying that
he had killed the Dutch housemaid.
Then his resistance‘ wore thin. He
admitted he had traveled on the same
bus with Reik. Then, on October 3rd,
he admitted killing her.
“I’m glad I was picked up,” he went
on. “A week after the murder, a funny
fecling came over me. I know that I
would have killed again. I didn’t want
to kill another girl.” -
The counterman who liked to collect
panties was charged with murder on
October 26th, 1953, and on February
11th, 1954, a jury found him guilty of
murder in the first degree, but recom-
mended clemency.
On February 20th, Judge A. H.
Ellett, sitting in the Third District Court,
sentenced Leon Livingston to life in
Utah State Prison. |
THE LOS ANGELES PHANTOM
(Continued from page 45)
The TV performance ended at 10
P. M. A few moments later, Thomas
got up.
“Pl have to leave for work soon,”
he said, “so I'll say good night. Thanks,
Joan, for having me over.”
Thomas departed. Mrs. Hiles went to
the nursery to check on her little boy,
paused a minute or two in the kitchen
and returned to the living room. Here
she curled up in an overstuffed chair
to continue to watch the television set.
There was a crash of glass, a rip-
ping sound at the window drapes which
were closed, and plaster flew as some-
thing struck the wall across the room
from Joan Hiles. She recognized the
sound of a gunshot, and instantly
thought of the phantom sniper.
She quickly dropped to the floor and
crawled to the phone and called her
husband at work.
“Someone tried to kill me!’ the
frightened woman gasped into. the
mouthpiece. “What shall I do?”
“Get, the sheriff’s office,” her husband
replied. “And stay out of range of that
window till the cops get there.”
She phoned the Norwalk sheriff’s
substation. A moment later her tele-
phone jangled. It was Thomas.
“T heard a shot,” he said. “Are you all
right?”
“Yes,” she replied. “But come over,
please. Hurry. I’m afraid to be alone.”
Thomas arrived promptly, but left
just as a siren was heard up the street.
“You'll be okay now,” he told Joan.
“And I do have to get to work.”
MS. Hiles related her experience
to Deputies J. R. Wagnon and
T. B. Keeney, who answered her alarm,
and repeated her story for Lieutenant
Rosenberg and Sergeants Daily and Les-
lic a short time later.
“If I'd have been on the davenport,
where I always sit to watch TV,” she
said, “I’d be dead now. Ill never know -
the reason why I sat in that chair, in-
stead of over on the sofa.”
She told of spending the early part
of the evening with Evan Thomas, a
28-year-old Air Force veteran, and of
his phoning after the shooting and his
coming over to make certain she was
all right.
The officers had no doubt that the
phantom sniper was back in business in
the eastern Los Angeles suburbs again.
However, this time, as they questioned
Mrs. Hiles, the detectives heard some-
thing to persuade them that perhaps in
this instance the sniper’s intended vic-
tim had not been selected at random.
“Several times during the past year,”
she told them, “when I was alone at
night, my phone would ring, but there
would be no voice when I answered. I
could tell the line was open. I thought
I could even hear heavy, breathing in
my receiver. But whoever it was
wouldn’t say a word. The party would
simply hang on a minute, then cradle
the receiver and cut the connection.”
Evan Thomas, Mrs. Hiles assured
the sheriff's men, had never attempted
to annoy her in any way. “He’s always
acted like a gentleman,” she said. “Al-
ways.” :
“He told you he heard the shot,”
Rosenberg said. ‘“He’s about the near-
est thing we’ve had to be a witness.
We'd better talk with him, I guess.”
Meanwhile, outside the Hiles home,
near where the sniper must have stood to
fire the bullet in the line, of, flight it
took, other cops had found a cigarette
butt, still limp and moist, showing it
had been discarded not long before.
“By the sniper, I'll bet,” said Ser-
geant Daily, dropping the stub into an
envelope and thrusting, it into a pocket.
Leslic and Daily picked up Thomas
and took him to headquarters to tell his
55
oo,
ordered every
the search. for
‘antic APB fol-
nally talked to
zhboring New
atch up with
er, on Decem-
me, it was too
covered on a
the Andover
first thing the
nside was the
He was on his
2 seat, in the
‘re was a hose
t pipe leading
into the car.
ince stopped,
.0N Monoxide
>? There were
vay from the
idication that
r. When they
er, the police
throat were
iarks of the
s the tip-off
had rebuffed
red that he’d
use On some
love for her,
m down, he
a conjecture
njecture was
a matter of
th overtook
‘d the details
ed, it seemed
state or some
lave gotten
n.
See
é 39)
hing on the
twenty-one-
was shot
iay as she
to arrange
ip for her
’ the news-
n a phone
t near her
ar the gun.
> shot. She
a spring
1 snapped
home of
id left her
small spot
The spot
IVE CASES
was a bullet hole. Mrs. Kreutzer was
rushed to a hospital, where it was estab- :
lished a bullet had hit her liver and :
kidney and lodged in the abdominal
cavity.. Had the bullet struck an inch
higher, it would have pierced her heart.
“Police assigned to the investigation
theorized that Mrs. Kreutzer was either
the victim of an enemy or of a mis-
chievous boy, sniping with a rifle.”
Thomas snapped off the radio. Go
ahead, chumps: Theorize all you want.
Enemy.. Mischievous boy. 'He sneered.
The chumps. They'll never get me.
Never. The feeling of power he had
experienced before he had phoned Joan
Hiles streamed back into him. He was
a big man, but now he felt even bigger.
He felt like a giant. And he was a giant.
He possessed a power nobody else in
the world possessed. He held, in the
crook of his right forefinger, the. power
of life and death, to be meted out by
him at will, at a random whim, when
he chose and where. It was wonderful.
HILE Thomas was gloating, two
men were grimly conferring in an
office several miles away. They were
Homicide Captain. A. V. England and
Detective-Sergeant Richard J. Dailey.
Dailey said, “We searched every inch
of the ground outside the store. No
cartridge.”
England nodded. “It’s probably a
rifle, single-action. There’d be no empty
shell around them. Any witnesses?”
“Not one. The guy was lucky.”
“We're getting nowhere fast. Every-
one we've questioned so far says Mrs.
Kreutzer had no enemies.”
“It’s either a kid or a crackpot,” said
Dailey.
“Let's hope it’s a kid: With all the
publicity, he'll be so scared he'll toss
the gun away, and that'll be that. But
if it’s not, this may be only the begin-
ning.” .
T WAS only the beginning. Thirty-
three hours after the Kreutzer shoot-
ing, a rifle bullet crashed through a
window of the home of Mrs. Vivian
Walters, forty-seven, of Norwalk, an-
other Los Angeles suburb, and imbed-
ded itself in,a wall. Mrs. Walters dash-
ed out of the house, just in time to see
the tail-light of an auto disappear in
the darkness. She called the police. They
dug the bullet out of the wall, but the
pellet was too crushed to offer any clue.
Dailey phoned Captain England from
the scene and reported what happened.
“It's a crackpot, all right,” he added.
‘And as before, there’s no shell.”
“We don't need it. They just fished
the slug out of Mrs. Kreutzer. A .22.”
“Now,” Dailey said ironically, “all
_we have to do is find the gun that
fired it.” ;
“We'd better find it soon. One of
CONFIDENTIAL DETECTIVE CASES
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Name.
Address.
im, and at the
ith uneasiness.
‘arkening and
to clarity, and
so did his un-
erminedly, he
he tiny dark-
oack into the
ich they were
at would you
vat’s what.
le a gun, she’s
ng way and
ice had never
Swett
Weeks passed, but the prowler never
turned’ up. And Thomas never gave
Clarice the gun. He forgot all about the
gun. That is, he forgot until the morn-
ing of August 27th.
He was in the car. He had knocked
off work three hours ago. He had not :
gone home because there was no one
home to go to. Clarice had taken the -
kids down to San Gabriel to visit her
folks. She was always visiting them.
In suburban, Rivera, Thomas passed
a food market. Outside the ‘store was
a phone booth. In the booth was a
woman. She was young and pretty and:
slim.
He drove around the block and look-
it into the gun and started the car. It
“responded. slowly. ‘That Annoyed him. «
She might no longer be in the booth.
No. She'd be’ there.’ Stick’ a phone in
open. She had left it ‘open, probably,
because it was so_ “hot. He. parked, but
“left the engine: running. ‘Tt was a nice.
quiet street, not many people around,
just a man walking. He waited for the -
man to get out of sight, and then he-
raised the gun and poked it out. the
car window, and aimed it and fired. .
She sort of jumped, but’ she” did not.
.
He used to be so scared: of dames. He
was not scared now.
Wasn't he? There was a girl, real
-. pretty, who, when it came to leaving
a woman’s hand, and she'd hang onto»
it all ‘day.
“He turned the corner. She was tilerel ;
yakking like sixty. The booth door was
him’ tongue- -tied, topped them all.
George Hiles’ wife, Joan... Her house .
was just two doors away from Thomas’
house.’ He had known the Hiles couple
for quite some time. He could talk
easy enough with George, but with
Joan, he ‘could not say a word:
He would show her. He strode to the
phone and dialed the Hiles’ number.
‘Joan answered. She said, “Hello?”
' He tried to speak, but the old, chok-
ing feeling hit him, and he said nothing.
She said, ‘Hello . . . Who is it?’”? and
:. She'd prob- ed her over again. He smiled. Now he fall. She dropped thé receiver and. tan he simply stood there, like a dope,
from the gun knew, without a sense of guilt, with out of the phone booth. He did not speechless. She hung’ up.
setter bring it only a soaring excitement, why he had hang around to see where she: ran. He She still had, him buffaloed. Furious,
‘ll him it’s all bought the gun. drove off. i ei ‘he slammed the phone. back on_ its
the prowler
ns up in the
once more,
did you buy
t damned in-
gz like a dame.
Ww.
drank a lot
He parked around the corner, opened
the trunk and took out the rifle, still
in its paper wrapping, and picked up
the box of cartridges. He got behind
the wheel, holding the rifle low, near
the floor, out of sight, he tore off the
wrapping. With trembling ‘fingers he
started to load it and fumbled it, and.
the bullet fell, and he braced himself,
but the bullet did not go off. He shoved
E WENT hose aad hit ie sack.
He slept like a baby. He felt great
‘when he’ awakened. Strong. Unafraid.
cradle. What was the matter with him?
He ‘lit a cigarette. Another. Then he
went over to the radio, switched it on.
(Continued on page 52)
Joan Frances Hiles, pretty target of
Phantom, points to hole made by bul-
let intended for her and young son.
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really a murder, he ordered every
available officer to join the search, for
the missing couple. A frantic APB fol-
lowed, and Danes personally talked to
police officers in neighboring New
England states.
The police didn’t catch up with
| them until two days later, on Decem-
ber 17th, and by that time, it was too
late. The car was discovered on a
lonely lovers lane near the Andover
Country Club, and the first thing. the
police saw on looking inside was the
body of Joe 4 Lemieux. He was on his
knees, his
front of the car, and there was a hose
connected to. the exhaust pipe leading
through the floorboards into the car.
The engine had long since stopped,
out of gas, but the carbon monoxide
had done its work.
But where was Pauline? There were
no. footprints leading away from the
car, nor was there any indication that
she’d: been inside the car. When they
opened the trunk, however, the police
-found her. And on her throat were
the black and blue marks of the
strangler.
T° the police, this was the tip-off
that one more woman had rebuffed
Joey Lemieux. They figured that he’d
Jured her out of the house on some
pretext, told her of his love far her,
| and when she turned him down, he
-killed her. This was only a conjecture
of course, a police theory.
But what wasn’t a conjecture was
| that for Joey it was only a matter of
time before sudden death overtook
him. If he hadn’t arranged the details
himself, the police reckoned, it seemed
inevitable that either the state or some
irate husband would have gotten
_around to doing it for him.
CITY OF
HUNTED WOMEN
(Continued from page 39)
Maybe there would be something on the
shooting. There was.
- “Mrs. Lois Kreutzer, a -twenty-one-
year-old Rivera housewife, was shot
and. seriously wounded today as ‘she
was s, phoning a doctor's office to arrange
a foutine medical check-up -for her
eight- -month-old baby, John,’ the news-
caster. said. “She was shot in a phone
booth, outside a food market near her
home. ,
_ “Mrs. Kreutzer did not hear the gun.
Nor did she realize she was shot. She
told police later she thought a spring
in the phone booth door had snapped
and struck her. She ran to the home of
a neighbor, with whom she had left her
baby. The neighbor noticed a small spot
on..Mrs. Kreutzer’s blouse. The spot
CONFIDENTIAL DETECTIVE CASES
ead on the. seat, in the:
was a bulle
rushed to a
lished a bu
kidney and
cavity.. Had
higher, it wi
“Police a
theorized th
the victim
chievous bo
Thomas
ahead, chur
Enemy.. M:
The chum;
Never. The
experienced
Hiles strea
a big mat
He felt lik
He possess
the world
crook of |!
of life an
him at w:
he chose
HIL
men
office sev:
Homicide
Detective-
Dailey sa
of the g
cartridge
Englan
rifle, sing
shell aro
“Not <
“We're
one we'V
Kreutzer
“It’s €
Dailey.
“Let's
publicity
the gun
if it’s n¢
ning.’
T W.
I three
ing, a
window
Walters
other L
ded itse
‘ed out
the tai!
the dar!
dug the
pellet «
Daile
the sce
“It's a
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the slu
ON
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these days he’s going to kill someone.”
LAS that evening the phone in
Joan Hiles’ home rang. She answer-
ed. Again the caller remained silent, All
she could hear was the sound of his
breathing.
The following day, when Thomas
read his morning newspaper, he was
elated to see the headline: “Phantom
Gunman Hunted in Second Shooting.”
That's me, the Phantom, he told him-
self, awed. Me.
piel evening, shortly before mid-
night, William Hanna, twenty-six;
Nina Marie Bice, twenty-five; and Betty
De Grado, sixteen, sat down at the
counter of an open-air hamburger stand
.on South Atlantic Boulevard, ten miles
from the scene of the last shooting, and
ordered coffee.
Suddenly Hanna heard what he
thought to be a firecracker. He turned,
and saw the coffee cup fall from Nina’s
hand.. She slumped over the counter.
In the back of her head was a small,
neat hole.
Hanna ran to the corner. Scores of
people were walking along the busy
thoroughfare. But none carried a gun.
He heard the wail of an ambulance
Siren and hurried back to the diner.
The ambulance pulled up and a sur-
geon alighted. But Nina Bice was: be-
yond aid. She had died instantly.
Detectives checked her background.
She was the mother of three small chil-
dren. She was divorced recently, and
was planning to marry Hanna, a me-
chanic employed at a car lot across the
boulevard from the hamburger stand.
Her ex-husband and Hanna were quick-
ly eliminated as suspects. Bice had re-
married. What was more, he produced
an airtight alibi. As for Hanna, he had
no motive to kill the woman. He was
deeply in love with her.
ERROR swept Los Angeles’ south-
Den suburbs. Residents drew down
their shades to prevent the Phantom
from firing at them in their homes. Few
women dared walk the streets at night,
even with escorts. Many were afraid
to venture abroad, even by day. Police
radio patrols were doubled, with orders
to keep an eye on men seated at the
wheels of parked cars or cars that ap-
peared to be cruising.
N THE n
ten-year-o
standing in fro:
Florence Aven
for a bus to t
she felt a bur
arm. Screaming
and ran toward
Ruth, came ou
on Patricia's a1
child, carried |
drove her to t!
tors found that
shattered the |
then grazed P
Detectives
question the ¢
with a gun?
“No,” she
turned bew1!
and her eye
she asked. “\
Mrs. Bryan
head.
N Nover
O alias the
Mrs. Irma M«
thigh as she
Rivera. On ¢
he sent Mrs
two, of Gary
bullet in the
his score stoo
child fired
killed.
Thomas t
gun-play, a
phoning Mrs
April 14, 19°
worked up «
her in person
in his hands
“Hi, there,
isn’t home f:
asleep, and
Where's Cla:
“She’s tak
her folks.’
“Then yc
He grinne
package. “1
“Sit down
They wat
watched it
eyeing her a
At 10:25 p.:
gram ended,
leave. She s
parted.
catalogue lists the actual price we will
: : There was no shooting the next night, i
pay for all United States Coins. Certain
Holf Cent. Coi th 3 | or the next, or the next. A whole month Aes
i $3 500 00 foi Ponedion Coins Bed cnly passed, without a single attack by the her a _
| $1.00 pes this - valuable cela book: lke Phantom, and the terror abated. Women ms ht feet {
| may reward you many thousands of ‘doi: | relaxed. The hullabaloo over the killing eignt a
i had evidently frightened the Phantom, four-year
lars, Send only $1. 'to ) ” Terrified, s
| Best Values Co., Coin Book Dept. or perhaps his lust for blood-letting had k hike
17, 403 Market St Newark, New { finally been sated. At any rate, the gun pas i
I Jersey M iS spree was over. ; wien
t 8s a neesenel K is ‘ wa ym:
i Se a a | So'they thought . . . EDEN
I 54 ‘ CONFIDENTIAL DETECTIVE CASES —e —_
whist Pent ey ea
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thought I heard a shot. Are you all
right?”
“It~it was a shot,” said Mrs. Hiles,
“but he missed. Will you come over
and stay till the police arrive? He—he
might come back and _ start shooting
again.”
“Sure, I'll come over. But I can’t stay
long.”
« Just as Thomas emerged from his
home, a police squad car appeared. The
police, noticing that his car was parked
on the wrong side of the street, stopped
him for questioning. He said he was
on his way to Mrs. Hiles’ place and ex-
plained why. They took him _ before
Mrs. Hiles, who promptly confirmed his
story. He said anxiously that he had to
go to work and the police let him go.
Sergeant Dailey, who arrived a few
minutes later, asked Mrs. Hiles if she
knew anyone who hated her enough to
want to kill her. She shook her head.
Had anyone threatened her? Not exact-
ly, she replied. Dailey asked what she
meant by that, and she told him about
the mysterious phone calls.
“Did you get a call tonight?”
“Yes. But not from him. Mr. Thomas
phoned, right after the shooting.”
“He did? What did he say?”
“That he heard a shot, and he want-
ed to know if I was okay.”
Dailey’s eyes narrowed. Thomas lived
two doors away. Why should he con-
clude, on hearing the shot, that it was
fired at Mrs. Hiles? Maybe he knew the
bullet was fired at her!
Detectives searched Thomas’ home,
but were unable to find the murder’
weapon. They picked him up for ques-
tioning, directly he finished work at
eight a.m.
“Me shoot at Joan Hiles?’” he said,
scornfully: “Ridiculous!”
He laughed, but Dailey thought the
laugh sounded forced. The sergeant
decided to try a bluff. “We had your
phone tapped,” he lied smoothly. “We
know about those mysterious phone
calls to Mrs. Hiles.”
Thomas’ jaw dropped. “You — you
do?” ;
Dailey nodded solemnly. “We do.”
Thomas sighed. “All right. I shot at
hés..
“How many other women -did you
shoot?” demanded Dailey.
“Seven or eight. But I only killed
one,” Thomas added hastily.
“Mrs. Bice?”
4% eah, °
“Tell us all about it.”
“I drove past the hamburger stand,
around the block and into an alley. I
parked the car and walked back to a
wood patch. I knelt and aimed the gun.
She was just lifting a cup of coffee to
her mouth. I drew a bead on the cup.
I wanted to knock it out of her hand.
I squeezed the trigger.’”’ He shrugged.
CONFIDENTIAL DETECTIVE CASES
“The bull
Dailey
“In my
“Why
asked Cal
“I pot
thrill out
faction
picked the
and I'd a
look them
who appeé:
NVES1
detect
that as <
quently
athlete, |
vented !
He tried
ar, but
he had
sweethea
with 2!
got int
series O!
prosecul
off easi!
In 19
A year
Californ
ton of S
they Ww
vicema!
Private
larly
ninetee!
A little
a mov!
He
but he
mail.
first let
were
a goo
Howe’
when
}
called,
way
He
and ¢
on a
was :
quent
them
Cl
ment
witl
anot!
Fi
hom
befo
“Ma
done
H
you
We
Wh
holc
you all
s. Hiles,
me over
He—he
shooting
an't stay
rom_ his
red. The
; parked
stopped
he was
and ex-
before
cmed his
2 had to
him go.
1a few
s if she
10ugh to
er head.
t exact-
hat she
about
Thomas
> want-
as lived
1é con-
it was
ew the
home,
murder *
ques-
the
rgeant
your
"We
phone
you
killed
{
|
j
|
“The bullet hit her, right in her head.”
Dailey asked, “Where's the gun?” *
“In my locker at the yard.”
“Why did you shoot those women?”
asked Captain England.
“I’ got excitement out of it. I got a
thrill out. of it. It—it gave me satis-
faction . . . I just drove’ around and
picked them at random. I'd get restless,
and I’d drivé where some girls were,
look them over. Then I'd shoot at one
who appealed to me.”
NVESTIGATION of his past, by
detectives and psychiatrists, revealed
that as a youngster, Thomas was fre-
quently ill. He aspired to become an |
athlete, but his bouts of sickness pre-
vented him from going in for sports.
He tried to gain recognition as a schol-
ar, but failed miserably. In his youth,
he had often dreamed of having a
sweetheart, but he was too shy to date
with girls. At the age of seventeen, he
got into trouble with law. He set a
series of grass fires and faced criminal
prosecution for arson, but he had gotten
off easily.
In 1942 he enlisted in the Air Force.
A year later, while he was stationed in
California, Mr. and Mrs. Arthur Stan-
ton of San Gabriel wrote the Air Force
they would be glad to entertaim a ser-
viceman at Christmas dinner. They drew
Private Thomas. They did not particu-
larly like Thomas, but their pretty,
nineteen-year-old ‘daughter, Clarice, did.
A little later, Thomas. took Clarice to
a movie. It was his first date.
He was transferred to another base,
but he kept in touch with: Clarice by
mail. According to Clarice, Thomas’
first letters to her during their courtship
were quite formal, but later he wrote
a good deal about romance and sex.
However, he never mentioned the subject
when they were face-to-face, she re-
called, nor did he ever behave in any
way “other than a gentleman.”
He proposed to her in April, 1944,
and they were married, while he was
on a three-day leave. The honeymoon
was a kissless affair, but during subse-
quent leaves, the relationship between
them became normal.
Clarice recalled that Thomas often
mentioned the Phantom Gunman to her
with the casual remark, “Well, I see
another girl got shot.”
Following his arrest, she went to the
home of her parents. “I'm glad it ended
before he did any more harm,” she said.
“May God forgive him for what he has
done.”
Her father saidg ‘Stick by him? Do
you think any respectable person would?
We're trying to be calm about this.
While we're ashamed, we are trying to
hold our heads high.”
“I’m glad it’s all over,” Thomas said
in his jail cell, awaiting court action.
CONFIDENTIAL DETECTIVE CASES
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P.O. Box 50, Bloomfield, N. J,
Potent
Pending
Each
N MAY 15th, he was led into court
for a preliminary hearing on
charges of murder and assault with a
deadly weapon. The usual procedure for
Suspects at such hearings is to stand
by in silence, while a date is set to
enter a plea. But Thomas jolted the
judge by pleading guilty right there.
The judge asked if the prosecutor had
promised Thomas any reward for mak-
ing such a plea, and the prisoner re-
plied that no promise had been made.
However, he withdrew the plea later
and declared he was innocent. The
judge permitted his counsel to enter
two pleas—not guilty and not guilty by
reason of insanity.
Psychiatrists said Thomas enjoyed in-
flicting pain on others, but that did not
necessarily mean he was legally insane.
Apparently regarding his case as hope-
less, Thomas dropped the insanity plea
in July when his trial opened before
Superior Judge Charles W. Fricke. His
confession was introduced in evidence,
and it proved devastating. He was found
guilty of murder in the first degree.
On January 29, 1954, Evan Thomas
entered the gas chamber. He entered it
without fear—almost eagerly.
Note: The names Mr. and Mrs. Ar-
thur Stanton and Clarice are fictitious.
KNIFE-TOTING
BLONDE
(Continued from page 29)
and John Henry Thwaits in Torrance.
ssa were the cries of protest from the
quartet of suspects. Buono claimed
he had been involved in the case only
because “someone implicated me. It
seems like the end of the road when they
accuse you of something like this. And
after forty-five years in San Diego, too.”
Labeling the police charges “just plain
silly,” Thwaits declared: “Sure, I knew
Horton (Jeanne’s former husband) in the
Joint (Folsom). But I never met his
wife. I never heard of Buono, either, and
I never knew any Ernest Murray.”
Police quickly broke down this claim
of Thwaits’ by showing him the tele-
Phone records of calls made from his
home. Finally, he admitted he knew
Murray and Jeanne.
Murray’s claim of not knowing Tony
Mirabile was cracked when questioners
got him to admit ' attending the Crime
Commission hearings with Buono and
seeing the legendary Papa Tony there.
Jeanne Horton and Thwaits were
praueh to San Diego, Jeanne’s face tear-
streaked and pale, Feanne still balked:
“Mirabile? Who is he? I never heard of
him.. I have never been in San Diego.”
Placed in a police lineup with several
other bleached blondes, Jeanne soon was
identified by Mario and the other wit-
2 for $5.50
ARRAS NEI CR 6 SE maa niandiian okie
nesses from the Palomar apartments as
CONFIDENTIAL DETECTIVE CASES
the w«
on the
having
Am
tive
who re
said at
the bl
Mario
fight
woul
asked
knife
7T ak
swer |!
vously
Sur
a poli
take J
amine
healing
issued
Her p
saggec
shapel
Sat ql
lookin
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my si
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chun
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apart!
He |
p.m
fred |}
him
a hot
whon
In tw
hood
The
real
nose
Victo
fourt!
Fr
Mira
and
apal
of th
threa
over
whc
reme
said
deatt
fat 1
gotte
atter
mat
a hi
bile’
SI
apal
as tl
for
othe
had
was
she
Rol
kn¢
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Tor
loar
keey
han
Me
ill someone.”
he phone in
She answer-
ed silent. All
sound of his
hen Thomas
per, he was
“Phantom
1 Shooting.”
1e told him-
before mid-
twenty-six;
e; and Betty
own at the
Durger stand
1, ten miles
100ting, and
what he
He turned,
‘rom Nina’s
he counter.
as a small,
Scores of
the busy
ced a gun.
ambulance
the diner.
and a sur-
ce was’ be-
antly.
ackground.
small chil-
ently, and
ina, a me-
across the
‘ger stand.
vere quick-
> had re-
produced
2, he had
He was
es’ south-
‘ew down
Phantom
mes. Few
at night,
re afraid
Police
th orders
i
ed at the
that ap-
t night,
month
by the
Women
killing
‘hantom,
ting had
the gun
CASES
N THE morning of October 13th,
ten-year-old Patricia Bryant was
standing in front of her home on East
Florence Avenue in Downey, waiting |
for a bus to take her to school, when
she felt a burning pain in her right
arm. Screaming, she dropped her books
and ran toward her home. Her mother,
Ruth, came out. One look at the blood
on Patricia’s arm, and she picked up the
child, carried her to the family car and
drove her to the nearest hospital. Doc-
tors found that a .22 caliber bullet had
shattered the bone of the forearm and
then grazed Patricia’s abdomen.
Detectives went to the hospital to
question the girl. Did she see anyone
with a gun? -
“No,” she replied. “No one.’ She
turned bewildered toward Mrs. Bryant,
and her eyes filled. “Why, Mommy?”
she asked. “Why was I shot?”
Mrs. Bryant could only shake her
head.
O* November 23rd, Evan Thomas,
alias the Phantom Gunman, shot
Mrs. Irma Megrdle, twenty-six, in the
thigh as she weeded her garden in
Rivera. On the night after Christmas,
he sent Mrs. Audrey Murdock, forty-
two, of Garvey, to a hospital with a
bullet in the liver. Thus, by year’s end,
his score stood at: Four women and a
child fired upon. Four wounded. One
killed.
Thomas took another vacation from
gun-play, a long one, but continued
phoning Mrs. Hiles. On the night of
April 14, 1952, he broke precedent and
worked up enough courage to call on
her in person, a neatly wrapped package
in his hands.
“Hi, there,” she greeted him. “George
isn’t home from work yet. The baby’s
asleep, and I'm watching teélevision.
Where’s Clarice?”
“She's taken the children down to
her folks.”
“Then you're all alone. Come in.”
He grinned bashfully and held up the
package. “I brought some cold beer.”
“Sit down, and I'll pour you a glass.”
They watched. TV. Or rather she
watched it. He watched her. He kept
eyeing her and thinking about the gun.
At 10:25 p.m., when the television pro-
gram ended, he rose and said he had to
leave. She said goodnight, and he de-
parted.
EN minutes later, a bullet shattered
Mrs. Hiles’ window, whizzed past
her ear and bored a hole in a wall,
eight feet from the bed in which her
four-year-old son, David, was sleeping.
Terrified, she phoned police, then sank
back, white and shaking, into a chair.
The phone bell jangled. The caller
was Thomas. “This is Evan Thomas. I
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SM ie a east
ice he liked to
ht, scare them
results: four
runette, slain.
ms
ER
bullet that
BY EDWIN JOHNSON
A blanket covers the corpse of Nina Bice, who was
killed by the sniper while having a cup of coffee at this
drive-in. At the counter are detectives who failed to
pick up any clues to shooting, or to sniper’s identity.
T vette was moderate along the U. S. 101 Bypass at
mid-morning but Detective Sgt. Gilbert Leslie, driving
at high speed with siren wide open, kept a wary eye on
passing cars. He could think of nothing but the strange
coincidence which had pulled him away from the Los
Angeles County sheriff's substation at Norwalk, Cal.
The way he had gotten it over the telephone, a house-
wife had called in a physician to attend her sick baby
but now she was in the hospital herself, suffering from
a gunshot wound. By the time he reached the emergency
driveway entrance of the hospital, Sergeant Leslie had
mentally worked out a dozen different versions of how
it had happened, and he knew none of them would be
right.
He found a spot to park his car, hurried in to the
desk, displayed his badge and asked for the patient,
Mrs. Lois Kreutzer. “Is she able to talk?” he asked the
nurse in charge.
“The doctor is up there,” she said. “Room 414.”
The sergeant took the elevator, inhaled the antiseptic
odors, found the right corridor and eased open the
door of 414. An attractive young woman lay on the
bed; a nurse and physician conferred in hushed voices
nearby. The doctor turned and motioned for Leslie to
follow him back outside.
In the corridor, he said, “She isn’t in severe pain but
she’s scheduled for the operating room in a very short
time.”
“She was shot?” Leslie asked.
“Through the liver and kidney,” the doctor explained.
He added that Lois Kreutzer had telephoned him early
that morning, August 27, 1951, from a pay station near
This.is Nina Bice. Of her death
the sniper said, “I just wanted
to shoot the cup from her hand,
but I wasn’t that good a shot.”
«
v
‘ie
Ye oh
a
The phantom sniper who told police he liked to
look at women “over my rifle sight, scare them
or hurt them just a little.’ The results: four
wounded and another, a pretty brunette, slain.
women victims
of the
MAD SNIPER
| Strangely enough, the phantom rifleman was captured because of a bullet that
missed its lovely target
32 bd
BY EDW
A blanket
killed by the
drive-in. At
pick up any
i raffic w
mid-mornir
at high spe
passing car
coincidencs
Angeles Cx
The way |
wife had ca
but now sh«
a gunshot w
driveway «
mentally w
it had hap;
right
He foun
desk, disp]
Mrs. Lois K
nurse in c!
“The doc
The serg:
odors, four
door of 41
bed; a nurs
nearby. Th
follow him
In the cor
she’s sched
time.”
Sphe was
“Through
He added th
that mornin
See
%.
4 aati i ist
her home to look in on her ailing baby. As she
stepped from the outdoor booth she felt a sudden
stab of pain in her side just above the hip.
It went away at once and she thought no more
about it, in her anxiety over the baby, until a
visiting neighbor called attention to a bloodstain
on her dress. The doctor arrived a few moments
later, swiftly examined the woman’s side and had
her rushed to the hospital in an ambulance. The
case was serious, but not critical.
“You can go in now and talk to her,” the doctor
told Leslie. “Try to make it short.”
Wasting no time, the sergeant interviewed the
wounded woman, keeping his questions to the
important business of locating witnesses. “Did you
see anyone around as you entered the booth?” he
asked.
Lois Kreutzer shook her head. She had seen
no one, had heard no gunshot and had thought she
probably had been stung by a wasp. She had no
known enemies and there wasn’t a reason in the
world why anyone would fire at her.
Sergeant Leslie left the hospital room convinced
Mrs. Audrey Murdock was ironing when she suddenly felt a
pain in her hip. She was the fifth woman to be hit by the
sniper, although she was not. seriously hurt. Below, a
police officer tries to define the bullet’s line of flight.
ee
‘
i.e
Mrs. Joa
she usua
been in
that one
geomeone
dent had
a matter
her side
The bu
down bot
neighbor:
and rifle
the size
caliber w
the pelle:
ling baby. As she
1 she felt a sudden
t above the hip.
e thought no more
the baby, until a
yn to a bloodstain
ed a few moments
nan’s side and had
n ambulance. The
to her,” the doctor
hort.”
interviewed the
questions to the
vitnesses. “Did you
ed the booth?” he
ad. She had seen
id had thought she
wasp. She had no
't a reason in the
at her.
| room convinced
vhen she suddenly felt a
yoman to be hit by the
iously hurt. Below, a
bullet’s line of flight.
Mrs. Joan Hiles showing how, if she had returned to seat
she usually used when watching television, she would have
been in bullet’s path. This was sniper’s last shooting.
that one of his dozen explanations for the shooting did fit—
someone with a rifle had turned loose a‘slug which by acci-
dent had hit Lois Kreutzer. To the doctor, he said, “Just
a matter of routine, but I'll need the slug you take out of
her side.”
The bullet came through to the substation late that evening
and Sergeant Leslie delivered it to the crime laboratory in
Los Angeles. He had driven out that afternoon to the neigh-
borhood of the pay phone booth, had made inquiries up and
down both sides of the street, had interviewed Mrs. Kreutzer’s
neighbors and had sought information from local gunsmiths
and rifle clubs. The crumpled little chunk of metal—about
the size of a 22 bullet—was the only clue. Because this
caliber was in wide use, the sergeant placed little value on
the pellet as a lead. [Continued on page 70]
Lois Kreutzer became the sniper’s first victim
when she was shot in side as she emerged from
pay telephone booth. Below, Irma Megrdle, who
was hit in thigh, is comforted by her husband.
*
A-18
CA THE SAN DIEGO UNION-TRIBUNE#® THURSDAY, APRIL 30, 1998
Court
Justices rebuke appeal
court on execution delay
Continued from A-1
In yesterday’s decision, Kennedy
said the 9th Circuit held up the
announcement of its turnabout in
Thompson’s case and “lay in wait”
while the Supreme Court denied his
petition, the state scheduled an ex-
ecution for Aug. 5, 1997, and Gov.
Pete Wilson reviewed the case and
denied clemency.
“Then, only two days before
Thompson was scheduled to be ex-
ecuted, the court came forward to
recall the judgment on which the
state, not to mention this court, had
placed heavy reliance,” Kennedy
Said.
The full 9th Circuit halted
Thompson’s execution so it could
review his claim of inadequate legal
help, which it had previously reject-
ed. It blamed the switch on inatten-
tion by one judge and miscommuni-
cation between another judge’s law
clerks.
Replied Kennedy: “It would be
the rarest of cases where the negli-
gence of two judges in expressing
their views is sufficient grounds to
frustrate the interests of a state of
some 32 million persons in enforc-
ing a final judgment in its favor.”
He said federal courts must re-
spect the interest of the states in
“the finality of convictions” once
appeals in state courts are ex-
hausted.
“Only with an assurance of real
finality can the state execute its
moral judgment in a case,” Kennedy
wrote. “Only with real finality can
the victims of crime move forward
knowing the moral judgment will be
carried out.”
In recent years, both Congress
and the Supreme Court have se-
verely limited the discretion of fed-
eral courts to grant relief to state
prisoners,
At the same time, the pace of
executions is accelerating. Last
year, 74 murderers were executed
in the United States, half of them in
Texas. It was the highest number of
executions in a single year since the
Supreme Court reinstated the
death penalty in 1976.
California has executed four
murderers since 1992. Currently,
505 inmates are on the state’s
death row; 27 of them are from San.
Diego County.
In Thompson’s case, none of the
Supreme Court justices questioned
the authority of a federal appeals
court to retract an earlier order
denying a state prisoner’s petition.
But Kennedy said such action
should be taken only “to avoid a
miscarriage of justice.”
And after examining the evi-
dence, Kennedy said there was no
miscarriage of justice in the convic-
tion and death sentence of Thomp-
son for the 1981 rape and murder
of Ginger Fleischli in Laguna -
Beach.
He said Thompson’s testimony
was riddled with lies.
_ Gregory Long, a lawyer for
Thompson, said he was “extremely
disappointed” but would try to per-
suade the 9th Circuit in a ‘second
appeal that Thompson, 44, was not
guilty of rape and thus not subject
to the death penalty under state
law.
He said he would offer the testi-
mony of David Leitch, who was
convicted of second-degree murder
in Fleischli’s slaying, that Fleischli
consented to sex with Thompson
before she was stabbed five times in
the head.
The Supreme Court split along
conservative-liberal lines in
Thompson’s case. Kennedy was
joined by four other conservatives:
Chief Justice William H. Rehnquist,
Sandra Day O’Connor, Antonin
Scalia and Clarence Thomas.
The more liberal justices — Da-
vid H. Souter, joined by John Paul
Stevens, Ruth Bader Ginsburg and
Stephen Breyer — dissented. Sou-
ter said the court majority improp-
erly toughened the standard of re-
view.
Souter said the court had fash-
ioned “a new and erroneous stand-
ard ... for the sake of solving a
systemic problem that does not ex-
ist,”
He said the 9th Circuit’s action
was awkward and poorly timed, but
Justice Kennedy
said federal courts
must respect the
interest of the
States in “the
finality of
convictions” once
appeals in state
courts are
exhausted.
a reasonable means of avoiding er-
ror in a life-or-death case.
For the 9th Circuit judges, many
of whom are regarded as liberal, it
was another day of rejection at the
Supreme Court. Last year the 9th
Circuit was upheld in only two of 29
cases. So far this year, the 9th
Circuit has been reversed in seven
of nine cases.
The 9th Circuit, which has 28
_authorized judgeships, handles fed-
eral appeals from Alaska, Arizona,
California, Guam, Hawaii, Idaho,
Montana, Nevada, Northern Mari-
ana Islands, Oregon and Washing-
ton.
Staff writer Anne Krueger contributed
to this report.
Lf Ties
Gil FZ
I} OSeculors
. 4 “
Say:
Pate
ed ce
?
Associated Press
Death penalty opponent state Sen. John Burton (D-San Francisco) leads a rally in Sacramento.
Wilson Refuses to Grant Clemency
as Inmate’s Execution Date Nears
-m@ Punishment: Thomas
M. Thompson, who is
scheduled to die Tuesday,
says he is innocent of rape
and murder. His attorneys
will make final plea to
Court of Appeals today.
By DAVE LESHER
TIMES STAFF WRITER
SACRAMENTO—Gov. Pete
Wilson denied clemency Thursday
to a. convicted killer who has
rallied nationwide support behind
his hope of avoiding an execution
that is scheduled to be carried out
Tuesday. ;
Wilson acknowledged in an in-
terview that this was the most
technically difficult capital punish-—
ment case he has reviewed as
governor because Thomas M.
Thompson is the only death row
inmate whose appeal to Wilson was
based on a claim of innocence.
Still, after spending much of the
Los Angeles Times
‘Convicted killer Thomas M.
‘Thompson in a 1983 photo.
last two days reading the 3,000-
page court file and then question-
ing the attorneys from both sides
for more than: two hours in his
office, Wilson said Thursday that
he is confident of Thompson’s guilt.
“This took time because of the
contentions,” said Wilson, who has -
considered and denied four previ-
ous clemency petitions since he
was elected in 1990. “But at the end
of it all, I am absolutely confident
that he raped and murdered Ginger
Fleischli.”
Thompson’s attorneys are
scheduled for a final appeal today
in the U.S. 9th Circuit Court of
Appeals in San Francisco. If his
case is not overturned, he is sched-
uled to die by lethal injection at
12:01 a.m. Tuesday.
In a statement Thursday eve-
ning, Thompson’s attorneys said
they are disappointed in the gover-
nor. They said he had failed to
properly use the power of clem-
ency to correct a failure of the
judicial system.
“By placing on Mr. Thompson
the burden of proving his inno-
‘ cence beyond all possible doubt
. . . the governor has abdicated his
responsibility to do justice and has
created a standard for clemency
that can never be met,” they said.
“This decision makes it clear that= ~
clemency, which was adopted by
the people to be their safeguard °
Please see EXECUTE, A30
A30
FRIDAY, AUGUST 1, 1997 *
EXECUTE: Gov. Wilson Denies Petition
Continued from A3
when the judicial system breaks
down, is not obtainable in Califor-
nia.”
Thompson, 42, was convicted of
. raping and killing 20-year-old
Ginger Fleischli in a Laguna Beach
apartment in 1981. Thompson has
said that he had consensual sex
with the victim and then fell asleep
after a night of heavy drinking and
smoking hashish.
ilson said he found that:story
unbelievable.
“They basically never offered
any kind of proof at any stage in
the proceedings to counteract the
evidence against him and instead
relied on this really incredible alibi
that he had come back with the
victim to the apartment and they
had consensual sex and then he had
fallen fast asleep and then slept
through a struggle, a rape and a
ghastly murder that included five
stabs to the head,” Wilson said.
“Then subsequently, he slept
through [the] removal of the body
by someone else while ... this
person who was the actual mur-
derer came in and cleaned up the
place.”
Wilson was conversant on many
details of the 16-year-old case file,
quoting from several court deci-
- sions and describing autopsy pho-
tos that he viewed of bruises on
the victim’s wrists, elbows and
knees.
Defense attorneys have focused
their attention on the hope of
raising doubts that Fleischli was
raped prior to her killing. It is the
rape charge that represents a spe-
cial circumstance that made
Thompson subject to the death
penalty.
Prosecutors found evidence that
the victim had sex shortly before
her death. They also said her bra
was cut and that her blouse was
peeled back to her elbows. Wilson
said the bruises were evidence that
she had been bound, perhaps by
handcuffs like the ones Thompson
possessed when he was arrested in
Mexico.
The defendant, however, has
insisted that the sex was consen-
sual. Since Thompson’s trial, a
co-defendant has changed his
statement to say that he entered
the apartment the night of the
killing and found Thompson hav-
ing sex with the victim and no sign
of a struggle.
That new evidence has been a
significant part of the defense ap-
peal and it will be raised again
today when the case is heard in
federal court. Wilson said, how-
ever, that it did not sway him.
“I don’t find that very probative
of their claim that a rape did not
occur,” he said. “What is far more
persuasive to me that rape did
occur was the forensic evidence
that Thompson was found in
Mexico with a pair of handcuffs on.
his person.
“Then there’s the other basic
fact that [the co-defendant] .. .
certainly didn’t say this at his own
trial at a time when it would have
been very damaging to him be-
cause it would have put him at the
scene of the murder.”
D= penalty foes have re-
cruited a number of high-pro-
file supporters who say that the
doubts about Thompson’s guilt
make him the case for commuting
the death sentence and, letting him
serve life in prison.
Thompson also is a former fire-
fighter with no criminal record or
history of violence.
His backers have won the sup-
port of seven former prosecutors,
including the author of California’s
death penalty. The opposition also
includes Hollywood celebrities,
former New York Gov. Mario
Cuomo and Cardinal Roger M.
Mahony, archbishop of Los An-
geles.
Times staff writer Stephanie Simon
contributed to this story.
Court scol
4
9th Circuit accused of
‘grave abuse’ of powers
ByAaronEpstein
-50) = he
KNIGHT RIDDER NEWS SERVICE
WASHINGTON — Showing growing impa-
tience with death penalty delays, the Supreme
Court sharply rebuked the Western federal ap-.
peals court yesterday for blocking an execution
in California two days before the killer was
scheduled to die.
The justices, split 5-4, found the lower court
judges guilty of “grave abuse of discretion.”
They denied all relief for Thomas M. Thompson,
who was convicted of raping and murdering a
Laguna Beach woman nearly 17 years ago, and
freed the state to press for a new execution
In the process, the nation’s highest court
delivered a stinging lecture to the nation’s larg-
est federal appeals tribunal, the San Francisco-
based 9th U.S. Circuit Court of Appeals.
_ Justice Anthony M. Kennedy, a former 9th
Circuit judge, scolded the judges for rejecting
Thompson’s plea, then reversing themselves 53
days later and calling a halt to Thompson’s
execution after almost 13 years of appeals.
The decision was a victory not only for Cali-
fornia, but also for the attorneys general of 20
other states, who told the court in a legal brief
that if the appeals court’s “procedural legerde-.
main” were allowed,
final.”
It was not the first time the nation’s highest
court and the 9th Circuit have drawn a line in the
sand over a death penalty appeal.
“nothing would ever be
ed for “ "
date. [CG@o | CH Union =
3
TRIBYUN
Six years ago, in an exhausting high drama
that was followed around the world, the two
courts waged coast-to-coast legal warfare be-
fore San Diego double-murderer Robert Alton
Harris was executed. It was California’s first
execution in 25 years, =
Over 12 hours, the 9th Circuit issued four
stays of execution, one of them as Harris was
strapped into the gas chamber at San Quentin
state prison.
Each stay was lifted by the Supreme Court,
which finally sent down an unprecedented order,
forbidding any more stays by the 9th Circuit.
Harris, who had been convicted of killing two
Mira Mesa teen-agers in 1978, was declared
dead at 6:21 a.m. April 21, 1992.
‘
i
i
See COURT on Page A-18
Vhampoer
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Thomas M.
Thompson:
California free
to seek killer's
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ALIFORNIA is one of our sunniest and most beautiful
States. But a certain young man isn’t viewing much of its
beauty as summer rolls toward fall in this year of 1952,
and he won’t be developing a very deep tan, either, for he’s
confined to a jail cell. He has been arraigned on charges
of one count of murder and seven counts of attempted murder—
which is really something to think about. Yet whether this young
man is thinking about it or just what he is thinking. about is a
question, for he is a very odd young man. He shot at several
women, wounded some of them and also wounded a ten-year-
old girl, but with a single exception, a friendly former neighbor,
he had never seen any of his victims before shooting at them.
“I just picked them at random,” he was quoted as saying.
i IS INCREDIBLE career as a phantom gunman started on
Monday, August 27th, 1951. Shortly before 11 o'clock on
that morning, the telephone rang at 9204 Pioneer Boulevard in
Norfolk, California. Mrs. Joan Hiles hurried to the instrument
before it could ring a second time. She didn’t want the telephone
to awaken her husband, George Hiles.
Mrs. Hiles spoke into the mouthpiece in a low, soft tone.
“Hello,” she said.
There was no answer, and she said again, “Hello.”
She paused very briefly and then, for the third time said, “Hello.”
Still there was no answer. Then there was a click and the
hum of a dead line in her ear. Puzzled, she cradled the phone.
She might have continued to puzzle about the call if her four-
year-old son, David, hadn't come bounding into the room just then.
Mrs. Hiles put her finger to her lips. “Sh!” she said. “Not so
loud, Davey! Daddy’s sleeping.”
T THE same moment Mrs. Lois May Kruetzer, who lived at
“™ 7564 Citronella Avenue in Rivera, five miles away, was worry-
ing about her eight-months-old baby. Young, pretty and blonde,
“Im glad it’s over.”” said the phantom rifleman who shot one
‘Large picture shows the man
that nobody would suspect. In ‘
small golnendan apen angogpannides goaegtes
may be seen the body of Mrs.
Nina Bice, slain at a hot-dog
stand while sitting on a stool.
dead and wounded three. “It's been bothering me terribly.*°
Above, Mrs. Nina Maria
Bice as she appeared a
short time before tragedy.
The .22-caliber rifle shown
on this spread was used in
all the phantom shootings.
°
Below, Patricia Ellen Bryant, the 10-year-old girl
wounded in the arm while waiting for a school bus.
Mrs. Kruetzer had never heard of Mrs. Hiles, who was also
young, pretty and blonde.
Mrs, Kruetzer decided that she had better call the family doctor
about her baby. She had no telephone in her house so she drove
to Passons Boulevard and Rivera Road, where there was a tele-
phone booth outside a drugstore. She entered the booth, closed
the folding glass door behind her, and dug into her purse for
change.
Mrs. Kruetzer dropped a coin into the phone slot. She was
half-facing the glass door when there was a sudden sound and
a hole appeared in the glass.
Web-like cracks sprang out from the hole, and she felt a burn-
ing sting in her breast. She realized that she had been shot, and
that the wound might be serious.
Mrs. Kruetzer was rushed to the Rivera Emergency Hospital,
Mrs. Iram Megrdle, shot as
she worked in her garden.
.
2
and |
was i
her k
doctor
Ser;
Eugen
group
whate.
many
Cap
the St
and [
They :
no rez
Sinc
happer
occurr:
bullet
since t
guessec
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and int
owner
know 1
EA?!
swe
ready ;
“Hel
RA dant sat en nt em eRe tts ean wtens hvtals
the evenings before IT went to work so
I'd cruise around.
“I saw the one in the telephone booth.
She looked so slim and pretty standing
there, I sort of wanted to ask her for a
date only I knew she wouldn't go for it.
I had my twenty-two rifle with me so I
just shot at her.”
About the hamburger stand, Thomas
said, according to Bowern, “T npotted
her (Mrs, Bice) and the other girl when
they sat down. I parked my car up the
street and then To sneaked down) by
those garages.
“I raised my gun and I was going to
shoot the coffee cup right out of her
hand. I don’t think I meant to hit her.
‘But I guess I did.”
OMelals maid that Thomas slened nm
complete confession and led them to
the locker in the railroad yards where
he had stored his rifle. ‘Teehnician ay
Pinker claimed that he was able to
state definitely that all the. slugs in the
case had come from this rifle, once he
was able to fire a test bullet from it.
On May 15, 1952, Thomas pleaded
gullly lo a charge of murder jpn three
charges of assault with a deadly weap-
on. The court was to set the degree of
murder and the Californian Adult Au-
thority would determine the length of
his sentence.
Since his arrest, oMcers claim, no un-
explained shots have been fired at any-
one in the suburbs east of Los Angeles,
Read It First In
"| Almost Forgot | Killed Her’ (Continued from Page 11) oFriciaL DETECTIVE STORIES
ably be out of the car but keep trying.
When you get them, have them call my
office right away.”
He no sooner had hung up the phone
than it rang.
“Captain, you wanted to talk to me?”
Captain Price recognized the voice of
Klepper. ‘Drop the laundries for now,”
he said. “You and Elson get back here
as soon as you can. I’ve got two wo-
men coming here in a few minutes who
might be able to identify our victim.”
Ts minutes later an officer escorted
two women into Captain Price’s
office. “Captain Price,” he announced,
“these are Mrs. Myrtle Lee and Mrs.
Orin Wood. A Mrs. Brady called you
about them awhile ago.”
Captain Price offered them chairs
and introduced them to Detectives
Klepper and Elson.
“I appreciate very much your coming
down here,” he told them, “but I’m
afraid it isn’t going to be a very pleas-
ant job for you. You won’t be able to
view the body. Her clothes are in the
laboratory. However, because of the
condition she was in, the odor in the
lab is terrible and it’s liable to turn
your stomachs.
“But if you can bear with it for a
few minutes, we’ll be able to clear it
up or be right back where we started.
In either case, we’ll be indebted for
your trouble.”
The women obviously were more than
a little nervous. They wanted to help.
They could back out, they knew, but
their eyes seemed to say, “It just might
be Mary who is dead. If we don’t look
at her clothes, she might never be iden-
tified.”
Mrs. Wood spoke. “All right, Captain,
we'll try our best to help you out.”
As they walked back to the lab, Cap-
tain Price questioned them about Mary
Brady. How long had they known her?
When was the last time they had seen
her? Was she married? Where was
she from?
The two women confessed that while
they had known Mary fairly well they
didn’t know much of her background.
She was the wife of Mrs. Zella Brady’s
husband’s brother and they had met her
when she and her husband dropped in
for periodic visits. They hadn’t seen
her for quite some time, but just fig-
ured she had quarreled with Zella and
hadn’t been around. She was quick to
fly off the handle, they told Captain
Price. Many times, they said, she had
quarreled violently with her husband.
Other than this, the two women
couldn’t tell Captain Price much. Where
she came from or where she worked,
they didn’t know.
Klepper had gone ahead to the lab
and had the clothes lying on a table.
As they entered the room, Captain
Price could see that the women already
were slightly overcome. The odor was
a choking horror.
Nevertheless, they carefully examined
each article of clothing. The dress, un-
dergarments, the coat, shoes and even
the rings.
“Look closely,” Klepper urged. “We
want to be sure one way or the other.”
“I'm afraid—I’m afraid it’s her,”
muttered Mrs. Lee.
Mrs. Wood agreed. “I’m not a hun-.
dred percent sure,” she acknowledged,
“but those ballerina slippers are just
like Mary’s. And that coat—it’s almost
identical with the one I’ve seen so many
times.”
“Tell me,” Captain Price asked, hold-
ing up the collar of the white dress,
58
“do these initials ‘MM’ mean anything
to either of you?”
“Mary Mann,” Mrs. Wood answered.
“She was married to a fellow named
Mann before she came to Wichita.”
Captain Price saw that the women
had been in the lab long enough. He
escorted them back to his office.
As soon as the women had left the
lab, Elson and Klepper rushed from the
room and headed for Zella Brady’s
home. This was the first clue they had
been able to sink their teeth into and
they weren't wasting any time.
In_ the Captain’s office, both women
showed deep signs of concern as they
sat down.
Mrs. Lee spoke first. “I don’t think
there’s any doubt in my mind, Captain.
That woman is Mary Brady.”
Mrs. Wood nodded in agreement.
“Yes, I’m sure it is. And what we’ve
told you about her—well, it’s all we
know.”
Nevertheless, Captain Price was en-
thusiastic.
“Ladies,” he announced almost jubi-
lantly, “you’ve given us a boost over our
first big hill. I want to thank you very
much. That will be all for now but
we'll probably be out to see you in the
‘near future.”
JNSIDE the apartment-house in South
Topeka, Mrs. Zella Brady was ‘talk-
ing on the phone to a reporter for the
Wichita Beacon, who had learned that
identification had been made and had
called her for further information,
when Elson and Klepper knocked on
the door,
Assuming them to be the detectives,
Mrs. Brady motioned to them from the
door and waved them in.
She hung up the telephone and
turned to the detectives.
“I’ve been told,” she said, “‘that Mrs.
Wood and Mrs. Lee have identified the
dead woman’s clothes as those belong-
ing to my sister-in-law.”
“I’m afraid. so,” Klepper answered.
“And now we want to know everything
about her, Exactly when was the last
time you saw her?”
“Like I told Captain Price, I’m not
sure. Maybe six weeks ago, maybe
longer. I don’t know the exact date.”
“Haven't you been worried about
her?” Elson asked.
Mrs. Brady replied curtly. “Bill, my
brother-in-law, never was married to
her. They met in Chicago a few years
ago and they’ve been living together
ever since. I didn’t like any part of the
arrangement and I never tried to hide
my feelings. We had words over it
many times but they never amounted to |
anything more than arguments.
“TI liked Bill,” she went on, “and so
long as she was living with him, I didn’t
. try to keep her from coming out to the
house.” .
“Do you know where Bill is now?”
Klepper asked.
“The last time I heard—last week in
fact—he was working on a farm in Ox-
ford, Kansas. I don’t recall whose farm
it is but I’ve got his letter and return
address around here somewhere.”
Elson asked if she would mind getting
the letter and Mrs. Brady went over to
a living-room desk.
“We haven’t seen Bill since he left,”
she went on. “One day he told us Mary
had walked out on him several weeks
previous and he was going to leave
town to work.”
“What kind of a fellow is Bill?”
Klepper asked.
The question startled Mrs. Brady.
‘badges.
°
She turned around with a puzzled look
on her face.
She said sharply, “Wait a minute.
Bill wouldn't do a thing Jike that. He
couldn’t. If you knew him like we do,
you could see that. Even though he
knew what type of person she was, he
liked her. But he didn’t like her
enough to be angry for walking out on
him. Her leaving was probably the best
thing that ever happened to him.”
“You've got to admit, Mrs. Brady,”
Klepper said, “that as far as we know
now, your brother-in-law was the last
Person to see her alive. Now, if you’ll
be so good as to give us the name of the
farm he’s working on, we’ll try to get
his side of the story.”
As she rummaged through her per-
sonal effects for the letter, Klepper
asked, “Where were they staying?”
“On East Douglas. Some rooming-
house; I don’t know the name of it. Why
don’t you ask there? The landlord
ought to know something.”
“We will,” Elson retorted. “But first,
do you have any idea where we could
find this fellow Mann, her former
husband?”
“You might find him somewhere in
Chicagé. All I know is that she just
mentioned being married to him. I tell
you, I don’t know much about her. She
wasn’t very talkative when it came to
her personal life and Bill never said
much, maybe because he was a little
ashamed of the way things were. I
don’t know.”
She turned around. “Here’s the let-
ter. It’s the Ralph Hopper farm just
outside of Oxford. Bill doesn’t say
where it is—just outside of Oxford.”
Klepper glanced at the letter.
“Come on, George,” he said. “I think
you and I will be taking a trip out to
Oxford.”
CAPTAIN PRICE sat back in his chair,
puffing slowly on his pipe and listen-
ing intently as Klepper poured out the
Story of their talk with Mrs. Brady.
When he finished, the Captain smiled.
That tangled traffic was being un-
snarled, he thought, and if developments
kept moving along, they soon would be
able to get off that street and onto the
main drag. And once they got on the
highway, the journey to their destina-
tion—the killer—might be compara-
tively easy.
“You and George hot-foot it down
to Oxford right away to see Brady,” he
said. “I’ll send Reeves and Bumgart-
ner to that rooming-house to quiz the
manager. But our best hope is in
questioning Brady. He’s going to give
us a lot of valuable info about that
woman.”
Early that afternoon . Detectives
Reeves and Bumgartner mounted a long
flight of stairs into the East Douglas
Street rooming-house. A faded, black-
lettered sign hanging -on a door at the
top of the stairs told them this was the
manager's office.
When a middle-aged man answered
their knock, the two showed him their
His face paled.
“What's the idea?” he questioned. “I
ain’t done nothin’. I’m runnin’ a@ re-
spectable place here. You got nothin’
on me.”
Reeves spoke first. “Relax, Mister,
we just want to ask you a few questions
about a Mister and Mrs. Brady who
used to live here.”
The man scratched his head. “Brady?
Brady? I can’t recall nobody by that
name. You sure they lived here?”
“According to our information. The
wife left about six weeks ago or more.
Her husband stayed on for a few weeks
and then he left.”
“Wait a minute. Was this Mrs.
Brady a redhead? A little woman, a
waitress, say about thirty-five?”
Bumegartner told him this was prob-
ably the person.
“Yeah, I remember now. The old
man told me she walked out on him one
day. He said he’d stay on to see if she
come back but she never did so two
weeks later he left. Sure, I remember
"em. He was a pretty nice guy. But
her—she was a wildcat. They used to
fight in their room all the time. I’m
glad they left; they was beginnin’ to
bother my other roomers.”
Reeves asked to see the room they had
stayed in.
The manager pointed it out but added
that they probably wouldn’t find any-
thing of Brady’s as ke had rented that
= lpaeeaal room several times since they
eft.
“By the way,” he asked the two as he
led them to the room, “why all the ex-
citement about this couple?”
Reeves told him. “Mrs. Brady was
found stabbed to death last night.”
The man faltered and then continued
walking. é
“Got any idea who done it?”
“That's why we came to talk to you.”
The manager shook his head. “I’m
sure I don’t know nothin’ about it. But
one thing is sure; the old man sure
couldn’t have. He just wasn’t the type;
he was soft-spoken, easy going, hardly
never talked to anyone here ’cept me.
The only time I ever heard him raise his
voice was when he was fightin’ with Mrs.
Brady. Outside of that he was a differ-
ent person.”
What did they fight about, the detec-
tive asked.
“I don’t know. But they sure went at
it, whatever the reason was. Mostly in
the evenin’. Durin’ the day they were
pretty quiet.”
The detectives searched the room
thoroughly and finally convinced them-
selves that nothing was there. Before
leaving they warned the manager that
if he should discover anything, to be
sure and call the police.
SILENCE rode with the detectives as
they drove back to the station. Each
one was thinking the same thought—
Brady was the man who could supply
the answers they needed.
Shortly after one p. m. Klepper and
Elson drove into the yard at the Ralph
Hopper farm. It was a pleasant farm,
with chickens and geese running about,
and in a field a short distance away a
tractor was standing. A dog barked
savagely at their car but wagged his tail
in friendship when Elson spoke to it.
The two walked to the door and in-
troduced themselves to the man who
answered their knock. This was Ralph
Hopper.
“Mister Hopper,” Klepper inquired,
“do you have a man working for you by
the name of Bill Brady?”
“Brady?” he answered, puzzled.
“Why, yes, he’s worked for me about
two weeks or so. Why? What’s the
matter?”
“We'd like to talk tohim. Where can
we find him?”
The puzzled look was still on his face
as Hopper invited the two inside.
“Bill,” he called out from the living-
room, “there’s two detectives here to
talk to you. He’s been in his room since
dinner time,” the man informed the
officers. “He hasn’t been feeling too
THOMAS, Leonard, black, hanged San
eee oe ee eee, -
2, 7929
r
1 LAER
AAEGED &
SAN QUENTIN
i
a
tiakland
mn Cell,
posure,
Protesting His Innocence
Necra Collapses
Recains
(Coes to.
Hianford ‘Crowbar’ Killer
af Svwertbeart’s
Pays Penalty: Last Hours
Spent in Stole Calm
Awe men and a Negra paid
fihe Jac te crneeme penalty for mur-
tder at San Quentin Srisan taday
wher they were hanged an the
J Satie on llowes, '
Perr: Coen, 34. King’s county |
“orowileir” slayer, who killed the
3 {
|
Uiareacs nv his sweetheart, wes the |
Iuhite man. and the f!rst ‘o be |
/ i
:
t
:v
shingee. He had to be helped to |
ithe gxtiews. The trap was PDC |
fat 24-87 alom.. and Coen was Pro- }
jnounced dead at 16:29.
{ Samuel Thomas, an Oakland
! Necny wae the second hanged.
Proosting his ianocence of the
i
t
murder of Rose Lewis to out
last. he stepped on the trap un- |
assisted and knelt fn. prayer,
The trap was sprung at 14:38. :
‘ard at 30°48 Thomas was pro-,
Jneounced deal.
Littl: pudiie interest was mantis;
fested in Coen's hanging. But that j
of Tnonaes attracted state-wide ate
senton. . Police officers and other
acencies had deciared that Thomas
Baus innocent of the erlme for
which he was to be banged.
|Tnemas himneifl inaisted that he
‘Was framed into the death ro«.
{At tax: nicht he paced hie cell,
j muttering,
Com-.
Death
Parents’
'MUTrEen PROTESTS
LOR INNOCENCE TO LAST
' “i'n innawvenr,”” he kept naying.
H “I'm innecent” |
+ Governor CC. ¢ Young was pett-
'Moned wo Brant a stay of execu-
jtien, but he refused alter a review
of the testimony, Even police off]-
cers boucht a delay for the Negro
witheut resuk,
Thomas cullapsed at dawn and
lad to be attende@ by prison
(5 30TCs He refused to Cat any
Drea faet, Sue rexatned his com-
Tem are suse
the gollows. He went up the thir.
teen fetal etepa, with a set amile
to. his face, clinging to the arms of
eS oc orarde.
Mien cap and noose were
Themas asked:
“May IT kneei?”.
Perrilssion was dochrded © hie.
As he knelt on the thap « signe)
Whe giien and itt wak sprung, :
(Thernas went out with a prayer en.
Mle frye, .
Coen took his death Penalty sto-
waliv, Be lny motionlese Jn hig
cel’ during the night. At breakfant
he ate heavily of ham and eggs.
He walked to the gallows ag pb 4
dazed and atnod ~“motloniagn while,
rap and noose were adjusted, The.
Galiows wag *prung as Coen rocked
‘reertainly on his feet.
PERMIT GIVEN
SPECTATORS TO LEAVE.
After the Coen hanging there
war a e#'ighe interinineton, There
were V10 witnesses Present and it
wae AnnOUnCeO that any that
SoShed nitehe teave. the -room- he.
fore *he Next hanging. E‘tghe or
Rane Sermons lett. Thomas ras
er ee Y
“TER. in and hanged.
ad-
J
as,
i
a
i
t
sf Moc of esterday.
5
{
{
before the last walk to’
oa
Coen went te his Geath with.
Ou’ religtous crnsolation. Thomas
had Rev. GC, Coleman, Negro
minister of Alameda, with hin
Coen was conv.cred of the mun
der of Mr. ana Mra. George Mere
Arts. a: Hactore, Decersber 4,
145%
Fewer ten was engared to Edna
the daughter ag the family.
The parents orreredc the match and
<'OeN killed then wtih a crowbar
Whole they aless.
Thomas was Convicted of the
Murder of Rosse Lewis, colored.
Hle eonvietion Divoted on the
Identdfieadon of Ruby Kelly, who
“wae in turn murdtred while
Thomae was in jail,
ficers declared that the second
murder cleared Thomas, and thag
both women were killed hy the
‘same man. They called the con-
Tiction evidence “flimuay,”?
Governor Studies
Innocence Claims
SACRAMENTO, March 22.—/#)
—Just prior to the honging this
morning of Perry Coe’. and Samue)
Thomas, Negro, Governor Cc. °C,
Young announced that his office
had been busy throughout’ the
Brenter ‘Part of the ulght with a
frultless Investixation into last
minute clatms of Thomas’ fnno-
cence.
Exrl Warren, district ‘ise ves
of Alameda county, the governor
said, represented the state tn run.
ning down reports that two Oak.
land police officers had attested to;
Thomas’ {nnocence. In neither in.
Stance, Warren was sald to have
Advised the governor, did he un-
;¢arth more than an unsupported
Berronal opinion. ,
>
Ste ee ee
MONDAY, AUGUST 4, 1997
MEE
Appeals Court
Orders Delay ©
Of Execution -
In California -
>»
By TIM GOLDEN
SAN FRANCISCO, Aug. 3 — In an
extraordinary last-minute reversal,,
a Federal appeals court today.
blocked the execution of a 42-year- :
old California man convicted 14,
years ago of the rape and murder of i
a woman in Laguna Beach, Calif.
The ruling, by an 11-judge panel of ;
the United States Court of Appeals.,
for the Ninth Circuit, overturned an {
earlier decision by three judges of.
the same court in the case of Thomas :
M. Thompson, a former boat repair-
man who was scheduled to die by ;
lethal injection early Tuesday. rm
The appeals court appeared to re-;,
main bitterly divided over the case, ,
which has stirred new debate over.,
the death penalty in California. Mr.
Thompson would have been only the, _
fifth person executed in the state.
since it reinstated capital punish-,
ment in 1978.
But in today’s opinion, seven_
judges of the panel said that the
court had made “fundamental er-
rors of law that would result in mani-,
fest injustice” if Mr. Thompson’s ex-
ecution at San Quentin. State Prison,
went ahead.
The majority upheld part of a 1995
ruling by a Federal district court in
Los Angeles that found Mr. Thomp-
less than the minimally effective de-
fense guaranteed by the Constitution.
On that basis, the appeals court 3
struck down Mr. Thompson’s convic- :
tion on the rape charge and vacated <
the death sentence that had been!
based on that conviction. It also or-*’
dered the district court to reconsider ,
Mr. Thompson’s conviction for first-’
degree murder in the death of Ginger *
Fleischli,, a 20-year-old -Laguna *
roommate.
son’s trial lawyer provided him with »
+ Beach woman who had been roman-‘*:
Fad
tically involved with Mr. Thompson’s %
AS
4
“We're elated,’ said one of Mr. by
Thompson’s lawyers, Quin- Denvir. *
| “But we are going to be nervous until’
pare’
the execution date has passed.”
The California Attorney General’s
office said it would move immediate- *
ly to ask the United States Supreme:
Court to strike down the Ninth Cir-”
cuit’s ruling and allow the execution::’
to proceed. :
“This is to the point now where we
have a court reversing itself at the "
eleventh hour,” Rob Stutzman, a~
spokesman for the Attorney General, ”
said by telephone from the State ”
Capitol in Sacramento. ‘“‘Our appeal |
to the Supreme Court will be that the
Ninth Circuit had. no: right -even to:
hold the hearing that they held last’
Friday.” ' :
At that session, Mr: Thompson’s
lawyers asked the appeals court to
take the extraordinary step of re-
thinking a decision it had already
made, but not on the basis of ne
evidence. ,
Mr. Thompson has said that after
a long night of drinking and smoking
hashish, he had consensual sex with
Miss Fleischli and then slept through
the brutal attack in which she was
Stabbed to death a few feet away.
But while Mr. Thompson’s. room-
mate later supported that: account,
the appeal argued that Mr. Thomp-
: son’s trial. lawyer, Ronald Brower,
' had failed to question the evidence of
' a rape or to challenge the credibility
of two highly unreliable’ jailhouse
witnesses who said that Mr. Thomp-
son had admitted to the murder.
_At the time of Miss Fleischli’s
murder, Mr. Thompson had been
sharing a modest apartment in La-
‘ guna Beach with David _ Leitch,
‘ whom he had met three weeks earli-
er. Mr. Thompson, an Army veteran
who once worked as’a fire depart-
ment photographer, was doing car-
pentry work and repairing boats. Mr.
Leitch was unemployed and recently
divorced. 3
“~ Miss Fleischli. had ‘dated Mr.
. Leitch briefly before his marriage
and she moved in with him briefly
after it broke up. A few weeks before
her death, however, she called a La-
guna Beach police officer to help her
- move out, telling him that Mr. Leitch .
~ had threatened to kill her.
Miss Fleischli then moved in with
- Mr. Leitch’s former wife, Tracy. The
_Telationships. remained . vague
enough that after the two women
bumped into the two men at a restau-
rant on Sept. 11, 1981, the four went
out together for drinks. —
David Leitch left with Tracy
Leitch, and Miss Fleischli drove to
Mr. Thompson’s apartment with him
-and another. man. But Ms. Leitch
would later testify that before the
group split up, Miss Fleischli had
asked her, “Do you think David
would have Tom kill me?”
Miss Fleischli was found three
days later in a shallow grave at a
: nursery in Irvine. She had bled to
) death after being stabbed five times
inthe head. ©.
black, as
ugged Rose, they could have slipped
ick into town and stolen Nelson's car,
hey're heading for Los Angeles and
cking up a few bucks along the way.”
The next stop on the route to Los
ageles from Fresno would be Bakers-
‘Id. Bolger sent out a special teletype
Chief of Police Walter Grayson of
\kersfield and to the sheriff's office
Kern County requesting that they
t up road blocks to intercept the car,
From Fresno to Bakersfield {s 108
es. If the bandits were heading south
ey should reach the blockade point
thin two hours. But no report had
me from Bakersfield by five.
Meanwhile, the lab crew finished
mparison tests on the finger-prints.
7e can’t make any you've given us so
*,” a technician reported. .
At six in the morning, Bolger told his
‘n: “I guess we have everything in
pe for the time being. You fellows
ter knock off and get some sleep.”
‘I could stand some ham and eggs,”
trray said. “Suppose we get some
‘akfast. Maybe a report will come in
those road blocks. If our boys are in
car stolen from Nelson, they’re
ind to be grabbed sooner or later.”
3efore the officers left, a telephone
| came in from the hospital.
tose had died. ‘
t was now a case of murder.
‘he physician who had attended
ie told Bolger that he had been
ick repeatedly on the back of the
d with a blunt instrument that
ttered the skull, driving pieces of the
e into the brain.
HERE is some evidence that he was
also choked,” the doctor declared.
‘ould guess that one of the men put
arm around the victim’s neck and
! his head back against the seat
‘e the other struck him.”
ose probably had tried to use his
0 to notify his office when he real-
he was going to be robbed. The
rs must have struggled with him to
' him from the microphone before
ing him over the head.
{ave you any idea what kind of an
‘ument was used?” Bolger asked.
‘he usual blunt, unknown instru-
t,” the doctor said. “If you want a
s—and it’s nothing more than a
s—I'd say it might have been the
of a revolver. It’s about that size
shape.” ;
lger ordered the body taken to the
ty morgue for an autopsy.
ter in the morning, San Francisco
stives sent in a report that the
; of Johnson and Polling held up.
nen had been in a bar at eleven the
ous night and could not have killed
They were being held for the San
cisco robbery.
e Oakland inspectors, after a few
” rest, were back on the job before
They asked Bolger if anything
‘eveloped on the case.
ot a thing,” Bolger told them. “we
the serial numbers of the watch
was wearing. It’s already out to
‘€ pawnshops. But the big break
| be to pick somebody up with it.”
$s about the only real evidence
will connect the killers to the
” Wood said. ,
> may have one other thing,”
* declared. “I’ve been going over
her crime reports for last night.
or store was stuck up at half-past
and the descriptions of the two
vho pulled it tally with the ones
us by Rourke.” APR
at won’t prove they killed Rose,”
»0inted out.
. But it will place them in the
And it will put guns in their
ray said: “It ties in with the
from the girl in the dance hall
ae of the fellows told her he was
‘ave the girls come in yet to look
mug books?” A
‘y're in the Bureau of Records
low.”
2.30 in the afternoon, Bolger re-
a long-distance ‘telephone call
‘thief Grayson of Bakersfield.
ohyx.
oe
Calif °
“We've grabbed two men in that
stolen car you teletyped about early
this morning,” Grayson reported. “Two
of my boys, Thomas Bertie and James
Ware, spotted them at a road block as
they were coming into town. They must
have holed up for awhile in & motel be-
tween here and Fresno.”
“Have you questioned them yet?”
“They admit stealing the car, Not
much sense in denying it, since we got
them in it,” Grayson sald. “And they're
also willing to cop a plea to the two
stickups in Fresno.”
“Have you asked them anything
pee the killing of the cab ‘driver
ere?”
“No. I figured we'd better wait until
They readily admitted atoaling the
car in Oakland. They admitted the
robberies in Fresno. When questioned:
about the liquor-store robbery in Oak-
land, they admitted that, too.
But they flatly denied the holdup of
oe A gd driver that had resulted in his
ea . .
“What? time of night was that cab
driver killed?” Pierce asked,
“About eleven o'clock.” :
“Well, that lets us out,” he said. “Me
and my buddy left town before ten
o’clock. We swiped that car after we
a the liquor-store job and headed
south.”
Wood let the statement stand, but
took Lynch to one side and explained:
; Ainsworth of Tulelake, .
, not fired any shots.
Three executions were
for April, 1956.
Up to the Minute
PARTNERS in a life of crime, Willie McCain and Henry
Thomas split sharply when they were tried for murder.
McCain pleaded not guilty, faced a jury and was sentenced
to life imprisonment when that jury recommended mercy.
Thomas, however, pleaded guilty. He was sentenced to
death by the court and executed late this Summer after
battling the sentence for five years.
As Governor Goodwin Knight of California pointed
out in denying a final plea for commutation of sentence,
Thomas had pulled the trigger in the slaying of Mrs. Velsie
California,
attempt; McCain had participated in the robbery but had
The detective work that brought about the arrest of
these two: men appeared shortly after the slaying, under
’ the ‘title, “Without Fol-de-Rol or Fanfare”, in the March,
1952, issue of OFFICIAL DETECTIVE STORIES Maga-
zine.
avoided when juries ‘recom- .
mended leniency in two other widely separated cases. In
Bridgeport, Connecticut, Wallace Mack Williams will go
to prison for life without Possibility of parole for the park-
ing-lot slaying of Mrs. Dorothy Cahill. Tracing and cap-
ture of Williams, with Mrs, Cahill’s Valentine presents in
his car, was described in “But Where Are Dorothy's Stolen
’ Hearts?” in the May, 1956, OFFICIAL.
Nazario Gonzales and Gerald Garcia, both nineteen,
also go to prison for life, in accordance with the verdict of
a jury in Los Angeles. They had chased Mrs. Doris Moul-
ton’s escort away with a broken bottle and attacked and
fatally beaten Mrs. Moulton on a lovers’ lane; the detective
work in this case appeared under the title, “Clue of Doris’
Stolen Night: Out”, in OFFICIAL DETECTIVE STORIES
This department appears regularly on these pages to
keep you up to date on final developments of cases which
were published at a time when the detective work done on
them was current.—The Edito:
during a holdup
vr.
you got here for that. But I can tell ‘
you this much. They're a couple of
tough hoods and they seem too willing
to cop out on the Fresno jobs. It looks
~ me like they'd like to get rapped in a
urry.”
“Yeah, they'd rather take the rob-
‘bery charges than face a murder
count,” Bolger said. “I’m sending some-
body right down.”
Lieutenant Wood and Alameda
County Deputy District Attorney Rich-
ard Lynch, armed with all the facts
that had been gathered during the in-
Resestion, made the trip to Bakers-
eld,
One of the first questions Wood
asked of the Bakersfield officers was,
whether either of the suspects had been
wearing a wrist watch. Both had, but
neither was the. one that had been
taken from Rose.
A search of the car was made with-
out finding Rose’s watch. ‘
The two suspects, Robert O. Pierce
and Smith Edward Jordan, told the offi-
cers they had spent several hours of
the early morning resting in a motel.
A search was made at the motel for
the wrist watch. It could not be found.
Wood and Lynch questioned the men.
“He's lying and we can Prove it. They
didn’t steal the car until after one
o’clock in the morning. The fellow who
owns it had it in his possession until
that time.”
Pierce and Jordan were taken to
Oakland. Their finger-prints were
compared with those found on the taxi
but none matched.
Bolger, Lynch, Wood, Fake and Mur-
ray questioned the men.
They pointed out the obvious flaw
in their alibi: They could not have. left
town in the stolen car before Rose was
robbed because the car had not been
stolen until after one in the morning.
An additional point of evidence was
that the two men seen running from
Rose’s cab had been carrying a small
suitcase. A small: suitcase had been
found in the stolen car when the sus-
pects were picked up in Bakersfield,
But no amount of questioning would
make either of them admit that they
had been in Rose’s cab or had slugged
him.
“I'm satisfied they killed Rose,” Bol-
ger told Lynch. “About all we can do
;, file a charge and give the facts to a
jury.”
Lynch. shook his head. “You don’t
OFFICAL
skiyou) 7-13-1956,
have enough evidence to file a charge,
How are you going to Place either of
the men in the cab?” .
Bolger realized the weakness of his
case. But how could he connect the
men with the crime? How could he
place them in the cab?
After holding the pair for nearly a
week, the Oakland police returned
Pierce and Jordan to Fresno to stand
trial for the charges of robbery there.
“You mean we're going to let them
g0?” Wood asked Bolger. “It’s a cinch
they’re the two we want.”
“How are we going to prove it?”
“We've got to try. If we could only
find Rose’s watch.”
“They didn’t have time to Pawn it,”
Bolger pointed out. “They must have
realized it would tag them with the
killing and threw it away. And it’s im-
possible to search every bit of the high-
way between here and Bakersfield.”
“I still don’t see letting them get
away with it,” Wood said bitterly.
Pt aren’t through yet,” Bolger re-
Pp. le
Bolger went to Doctor Paul Kirk,
criminalist at the University of Cali-
fornia. He outlined his evidence and
asked: “How can we prove that these
two men were in the cab?”
“Would that make your case?” Doc-
tor Kirk asked.
“With the other evidence we have, I
think it would. But we need some
physical evidence.” .
“Have you got the clothing the two
suspects were wearing when they were
arrested?”
Bolger nodded. “We held it for evi-
dence. I was hoping they might have
blood on the clothes but they didn’t.”
D°CcTOR KIRK ‘sat in thought for
several minutes. He thumbed
through the file Bolger had brought.
“I gather that the men who killed
the cab driver struggled with him.”
“That's right,” Bolger said. “Appar-
ently they choked him. He must have
been going for the radio-telephone to
call his office.”
Doctor Kirk asked: “Have you got
the suit the cab driver was wearing?”
“No. But I can get it,”
“Good. Bring me the clothes of the
two suspects and the suit worn by the
victim. I’ll see what I can get for you.”
.. On October 30, 1953, Pierce and Jor-
dan entered pleas of guilty to the two
charges of armed robbery in Fresno,
They were given sentences of from
five years to life in the state peniten-
tiary at San Quentin, In Oakland they
also entered pleas of guilty to the rob-
bery of the liquor store and were handed
additional sentences.
Both Pierce and Jordan were ques-
tioned by the Oakland police again be-
fore being taken to the penitentiary.
“Why not clean it all up?” Bolger
asked them. “We've punched your story
full of holes about Stealing the car at
ten o’clock in the evening. We know
a robbed the cab driver and slugged
im.”
“If you got evidence, charge us,”
Pierce said. “But you're plain crazy if
you think I’m going to send myself an
invitation-to that green room up at
San Quentin. I've been in the big house
before. I’ve seen guys go up there to
smell that cyanide gas and it ain’t for
me.”
Jordan was equally adamant. “If you
had enough to rap us, you wouldn’t be
messing around asking for no confes-
sion. You'd file a charge and give us
the business. Looks to me like we're
going to do a stretch for robbery and
mayce get out one of these days.”
“We'll be waiting for you,” Bolger
told them. “There’s no time limit on a
murder charge.”
The convicts were taken to San
Quentin. |
Nearly a month later Doctor Kirk
dropped in on Bolger. “It’s taken a long
ee a I think I have what you want,”
e said.
“What is it?” Bolger asked.
“You've heard of a spectograph,
haven't you?”
47
Lx FECTIVE 77 LHS ES.
ACN BLE (9S b
they’d been in to take a look at Glass
Mountain and were trying to get back
to the highway.”
“Where did they go?”
“They wanted to get over. to High-
way Ninety-Seven. We told them about
the old road down through Dry Lakes
that comes out at Dorris. It’s pretty
rutted but those older cars were built
high, so they were going to try it.”
By coming out at Dorris on Highway
No. 97, they’d have missed the block-
ade stations.
Pedersen got into his car.
“I don’t thing you'll make it in your
auto,” a guard told him. “It’s got some
pretty high centers.” ;
“T’ll try it,” Pedersen said.
The road was tough, all right; Pete
could hear the rocks grate against his
oil pan. He kept his eye on the oil gauge
and his car in second gear for the whole
hour’s drive into Dorris.
"But We Can't Alibi That!"
on the note instead of his name indi-
cated that Harvey Burr was even miss-
ing and Mrs. Tjeedsma was sure the
note was in her father’s handwriting.
Sheriff Haley picked up the telephone
and asked the operator to connect him
with the bank at Platte. Mrs. Tjeeds-
ma had said Burr conducted his busi-
ness there.
He asked the bank cashier if he’d
seen Harvey Burr recently or knew of
his whereabouts.
“He hasn’t been in recently,” the
cashier informed him, “but we did get
a call about noon today from the bank
at Brookings asking us to okay a check
drawn on Mister Burr in the sum of four
hundred and fifty dollars.”
“You okayed it?”
- “Certainly. Mister Burr has a large
account with us.”
wee Burr cashing the check him-
se ”
“No. It was drawn in someone
else’s favor. I didn’t make a. note of
the name, but the bank at Brookings
would have it.”
Haley telephoned the bank at Brook-
ings, 175 miles to the northeast. That
bank had cashed a check for a man
named Robert E. Thwing, made out in
his favor by Harvey Burr in the.sum.
of $450.
“Do you still have the check?” Haley
asked.
“We haven't put it thrpugh for clear-_
ance yet.” A
Haley asked if he could have the
check to verify Burr’s signature. He
explained that Burr was missing. The
bank agreed.
. InBrookings, after a fast drive, Haley
asked for a description of the man who
had cashed the check. He was 25 years
old, thin, with dark hair.
‘Generally, this description fitted the.
man who had kidnaped the school-
teacher. But it also fitted a lot of young
men. No one in the Brookings bank had .
noticed the car Thwing was driving.
After an okay from the bank at Platte,
i check had been paid without ques-
ion.
It was long past banking hours by the
time Haley reached Platte with the
check but the bank manager was wait-
ing for him. The signature of Harvey
Burr was compared with the specimen
Burr kept on file at the bank.
It was Burr’s signature. ;
“No doubt of it,” the bank manager
said. “The signature is genuine. I’ve
handled Harvey Burr’s checks for a long
time. I dont think even a good forger
could fool me.” é
N THE way back to Chamberlain,
Haley drove through the Bijou Hills
-and dropped in to see Mrs. Tjeedsma.
She still had no word from her father.
Haley told her about the check. “Do
you know anyone by the name of Rob-
ert Thwing and why your father would
give him a check for four hundred and
fifty dollars?” ;
, Mrs. Tjeedsma recognized the name
48 -
‘
The California State Fruit Inspection
Station is located at Dorris. All cars
coming into and leaving California are
stopped, to wafch for fruit and vege-
tables that are diseased.
Pedersen went to the inspection sta-
. tion and asked for the guards who had
been on duty Friday night. The men
weren't on duty but they lived close by.
Pete located them.
He told them about the two killers
in the LaSalle sedan. -
“The car with the oscillating tail-
light,” one of the guards said.
“The what?” Pedersen asked.
The guard explained. “The tail-light
kept blinking off and on; it must have
had a loose connection. I noticed it
when it.left.”, *
“Have you got a record of the license
numbers?”
“Sure. We keep a record of every
_ Car that goes through.” .
at once. Robert Thwing was a cousin.
“But I haven’t even heard from him
for a long time,” she said. “I don’t
know why Dad would give him a check
for that much money.”
“Do you know where I could find
him?”
Mrs. Tjeedsma didn’t. “He used to
live here in the Bijou Hills with his par-
ents. I think they moyed up to Water-
town, but I don’t know for sure. You
see, Robert isn’t actually a cousin. He
was adopted by my aunt and uncle.”
Adopted!
Mrs. Black had said that her kidnaper
told her he was an orphan. He had
spared her life only because of her child,
saying that he felt sorry for any kid
that was raised an orphan.
“How old was Thwing when your aunt
and uncle adopted him?” Haley asked
Mrs. Tjeedsma.
“He must have been twelve or maybe
fifteen.”
Sheriff Haley left Mrs. Tjeedsma’s
home and returned to his office in
Chamberlain. He knew that he was fol-
lowing a very thin thread of evidence.
The brutal kidnaper of the school-
teacher was dark, thin and in his twen-
ties. He had mentioned that he was
an orphan. Robert Thwing was dark,
thin and 25 years old. He was an or-
phan.
But the man who had climbed into
- the trunk of the kidnaper’s car was the
me real connecting link between these
‘ac
Sheriff Haley reached his office a lit-
tle before seven o’clock. Reinners and
Sheriff William E. McCabe of Charles
Mix County, just south of Brule County,
were waiting for him.
“I heard about the schoolma’m,”
McCabe said, “and I thought I’d come
up and give you a hand—if you've got
anything for me to do.”
Haley thanked him and told about
his trip to Brookings and Platte with
the check. “I’m going to call Water-
‘town now and see if they can tell me
anything about this Robert Thwing.”
T TOOK awhile for the Watertown
Officials to' get the information that
Haley wanted, but they came through
with it.
Robert Thwing had worked there on
a@ construction job but had been dis-
charged two weeks previously when the
job was completed. They thought he
had gone to Brookings looking for work.
This fitted, for he had cashed the
check in Brookings that afternoon:
“He lives in a trailer with his wife
and two kids,” the Watertown police
said. “You’ll probably find him in some
trailer park.” -
Haley called the Vilics in Brookings.
“Thwing has a trailer in a park here.
When we went out, he wasn’t there and
neither was his family. His car is gone
and the trailer-park owner thinks they
may just be downtown to a show, or
something.”
. “Have somebody cover the place,”
That was that. Pedersen called the
license ‘number long distance to the
California Department of Justice in
Sacramento. Within an hour, the num-
bers were on the “hot sheet” of every
law-enforcement officer in the state.
Bulletins were sent out to all neighbor-
ing states.
Chief Pedersen took the long way
back to Tulelake but he arrived in time
for the inquest. The jury returned a
verdict that Ray Merrill had been shot
and Velsie Ainsworth murdered by
killers unknown.
. But by late evening, one of them was
known. An alert officer in Bakersfield
spotted the LaSalle sedan parked at a
drive-in cafe. He arrested the driver.
The youth, Willie McCain, 23, ad-
mitted taking part in the robbery that
resulted in the murder and implicated
his partner, Henry Thomas, who was
arrested the following morning.
Haley said. “I’m going to drive up
right now.”
McCabe and Reinners accompanied
* Haley. When they reached Brookings,
Thwing was waiting for them at Police
Headquarters.
“The trailer-park operator told him
we were looking for him so he came in
to find out what it was all about,” the
Watertown Chief of Police told Haley.
“He’s been waiting for you.”
“Yeah, what’s this all about?”
Thwing asked.
* Haley eyed the thin, dark young man.
He did not seem nervous facing the offi-
cers. ‘“You.cashed a check today made
out by Harvey Burr.”
“Sure. He’s my uncle.”
“When did he give you the check?”
“It was dated for Monday, November
twelfth, but he actually gave it to me
Sunday. I drove down there last Sun-
day to see him.”
“How come you didn’t cash it until
today?”
Thwing scowled. “Say, what's this
all about? The check’s good, isn’t it?
Harvey Burr’s got enough money to
cover a check for Your hundred and
fifty dollars.”
“Yes, the check is good. But you
didn’t answer my question.”
“I just didn’t need the money until
today. I lost my job up at Watertown.
I figured on going out to the Coast
to get a job in one of those defense
plants. I needed some money to make
the trip so I drove over and borrowed
it from Uncle Harvey. Anything wrong
with that?”
“Where were you Tuesday from four
o’clock in the afternoon until nine
o’clock in the evening?” Haley asked.
Thwing objected to the question and
demanded to know why he was being
examined. Haley put the question to.
— again without revealing the mo-
ve.
“Okay. If you must know, I was up
in Watertown visiting some friends. I
can prove it if you want me to.”
Haley asked for the names of the
friends, then suggested that Thwing
drive up there with him to establish
the alibi. It was after midnight, but
Thwing agreed.
Haley’s question at the friend’s home
was straight to the point. “Was Robert
Thwing here with you at four o’clock
on Tuesday afternoon?”
“Yeah, Robert was with us,” the
friend declared.
he had dinner with us.”
The friend’s wife verified this.
And so, that was that.
“I hope you're satisfied,” Thwing told
Haley.
HEY were about to leave the house
when Haley turhed to Thwing’s
friends. “I just want you to know what
this is all about. A young schoolteacher
was kidnaped near Kimball Tuesday
afternoon. A rancher named Harvey
Burr is missing, and we think he’s been
“As a matter of fact,
McCain claimed that he had shot
' Ray Merrill in the leg and that Thomas
had killed Mrs, Ainsworth.
On December 7, 1950, Judge James
M. Allen sentenced Willie McCain to
life in the penitentiary and Henry
Thomas to be executed in the gas cham-
ber at San Quentin. As this is being
written, Thomas’ attorneys have ap-
pealed.
ND Pete Pedersen, the small-town
"* cop, is back to his usual work of
wateling for petty burglars or barking
dogs or parking violators.
He still wonders if he missed any
tricks that would have caught the kill-
ers sooner.
The name of Alvin Bragg in this
story is fictitious to prevent embarrass-
ment of a person unwittingly involved
in the investigation.‘
Read It First In
(Continued from Page 33) orricial DETECTIVE STORIES
\ “I just want you folks to know this,
because if you’ve made any mistake
about the time Thwing was here, and
if it should turn out that Thwing is
guilty, then that would make you an
accessory after the fact. It’s a pretty
serious charge.”
“Hey, wait a minute!” the friend
cried. “I don’t want to get involved
ip anything like that.”
“What do you mean, ‘involved’?”
“Well, Bob came up this morning and
said he was in a little trouble. He asked
us to say he was here on Tuesday if
anyone questioned us. But I didn’t
know it was anything like that. We
can’t alibi that.”
“Then he wasn’t here?”
“No. He wasn’t here.”
“How about it, Thwing?” the Sheriff.
asked. “I guess we'll go down to Kim-
ball now. Mrs. Black will recognize
the man who forced her to leave the
schoolhouse. So will the Mairose boy.
Somebody asked him if the teacher was
good-looking.”
- Sheriff Haley announced later that
Thwing wilted and then mumbled, “You
got me.”
At five o’clock in the morning, Haley
claimed, Robert Thwing led Sheriff
Haley, Reinners, Sheriff McCabe, Spe-
cial Investigators Millstadt and Milli-
ken and Brule County State’s Attorney
Don Porter to a haystack on the Frank
oe ranch,‘ southwest of Kim-
Harvey Burr’s body, with the head
bashed in and two bullet holes through
the forehead, was found hidden in the
haystack.
“I’m glad it’s over,” Thwing allegedly
told them in great agitation as Coroner
G. R. McColley removed the elderly
rancher’s body. “I want to make my-
self right with God. I want to get on
the right road.”
Sheriff Haley stated later that. in his
opinion Thwing had forced his uncle
to write the note and then made him
climb into the trunk of the car simply
because he did not want Burr and Mrs.
Black to be together where they might
find some opportunity to compare notes
and where the uncle inadvertently
might reveal Thwing’s name to the
schoolteacher.
Haley also said that Mrs. Black and
Roger Mairose both identified Thwing.
State’s Attorney Don Porter filed
. charges of kidnaping, rape and mur-
der against Thwing. He was given a
preliminary hearing before Justice of
the Peace C. A. McKinney in Cham-
berlain where the witnesses identified
him and Alphons Mairose identified
Thwing’s car as the one he had seen
parked at the schoolhouse. The spe-
cial agents showed comparison charts
of the tires on Thwing’s car and the
moulage they had made at the spot
where Mrs. Black said they had stopped.
Thwing was bound over to face
charges before the circuit court. At
this writing he is being held for further
legal proceedings.
ee. AL, 3 pcan
*& THE STREET LIGHTS had already been switched
on when attractive and shapely Nina Bice came out of
the Holy Cross Hospital, where she worked in the grill.
Waiting for her was a young man with whom she had
been keeping company.
The day, August 29th, had been very hot, which is
not uncommon for that time of the year in Los Angeles,
California, and with ‘the darkness cooling breezes had
started flowing inland from the Pacific, giving the
promise of a splendid summer evening.
“Let’s eat outside,” Nina suggested, when her escort asked
her where she’d like to have dinner. “Then we can cool off.
How about that stand on Atlantic Avenue?” She named a
drive-in with outdoor counter and tables which was popular
46
THOMAS, Evan C., wh, gassed CAS (LA) January 29, 1954.
There was the urge to kill
and the rifle to do the job
- SNIPER
BULLETS
FOR THE
| MARKED
WOMEN
Divorcee Nina Bice died from mystery bullet.
with young people. “Good idea,” he escort said.
“[’m not very hungry,” Nina said as they pulled up
stools, “the heat’s robbed my appetite. All I'll have is a
sandwich and a cup of coffee.”
The 25-year-old divorcee and mother of three, who worked
at the hospital to pay the rent and buy the family groceries,
and her boy friend lingered over their coffee, exchanging the
usual small talk of people at lunch counters and bars.
Nina had just raised her coffee cup to her lips when
it paused midway and seemed suspended for a split second.
Then it slipped from her hands and crashed to the tiled patio
of the open air lunch counter.
A look of amazement crossed Nina’s face. She uttered
the cross between a moan and gasp, half turned and then
toppled off the stool and lay on her side close by the shattered
coffee cup.
Her companion stared down at her in disbelief. This
DETECTIVE CASES
DETECTIVE CASES, May, 1954
Detective Don
turned to shock w
in Nina’s temple
explanation. Othe
dumbfounded at t
Nina’s escort fir
side her, his handk
“She’s been shot,
sniper. But why *
Someone sumimr
for Nina Bice al!
when she hit the
Now it was a
order most of the
tail were gatherec
spectators attracte
and mysterious d:
that more than rc
on the case.
Her friend, da:
to him, was unaw
“T don’t know—
Detective Sergeant
next to me, drin}
she’s on the grour
her face.”
“Did you hear
The man shook
there was plenty ¢
shot I probably
get so you don’t ;
The other cust:
the time of the s!
to tell. None of th
way until sudden
mysteriously mur¢
Leaving further
the homicide det:
with Lieutenant F
minutes earlier.
“According to the
bore weapon at
instantaneous.”
Rosenberg frov
the murder scene
was clear: the m
in one of the bui
parked car.
Sergeant Daile
already detailed
neighborhood. Bu
tated, then added
marks of the othe
DETECTIVE CASES
her lips. I hit her from behind
‘ked her from her chair. Then
t keys, searched the house and
the money I could find.
already told my wife about
aintanceship with Frau Mahr
day when an account of the
ppeared in the papers I tore
‘ont page so that she wouldn’t
id put the money in the bank.
[ asked my wife to write an ad-
it suggesting marriage, which
! tO Insert in a newspaper. She
na disguised hand and I re-
‘teen answers. Anna Puberl’s
one of the best, so I decided
er acquaintance.
ed my personality and trusted
ed myself Franz Leitner, the
former customer of my wife’s
persuaded Fraulein Puberl to
ler money from the Austrian
3ank and about two-thirty
the afternoon we went to my
She was standing in the
ith her back turned when I
th an ax.
‘€ one cry, the one the janitor
ghbors heard. To prevent fur-
I clapped my hand over her
| cut her throat.
‘ard the janitor pounding
wrapped Anna Puberl’s
t and shoved it under the
‘ed down the covers on the
» bed so that no one would
‘n I cleaned up the kitchen
) the front door.
had softened the suspicions
or and the neighbors I hur-
wife’s store and told her to
from the apartment for a
o keep my little boy away. I
led to the apartment and
for disposing of the body.
ut the corpse in the laundry
<itchen, then I burned most
clothes. Finally, I. dismem-
ody and disposed of it as
wrapped the head separate-
v it into the Danube Canal
The following morning my
went on a picnic.”
news of Laudenbach’s con-
\y other women in Vienna
it he had tried to inveigle
mantic and business liaisons.
rently, had only miracu-
ed death but as far as the
determine, none, except
| and Justine Mahr, had
‘ed. Neighbors who had re-
ig a killer in a broad-
( stalk Frau Sack were un-
ufy Laudenbach. With the
‘rau Laudenbach’s incrima-
charged as an accomplice
eighteen months in prison.
was fortunate to escape so
enbach was lucky to avoid
~ was sentenced to prison
ily 7th, 1932.
of Vienna returned to
‘dows’ coffee houses re-
sularity as centers of
> giant ferris wheel in
su turned faily in its un-
filled with the laughter
d honest lovers. *
DETECTIVE CASES
SNIPER BULLETS
(Continued from page 47)
that the dead girl, Nina Bice, was
young and attractive and a divorcee—
traditionally qualities that might easily
lead to romantic troubles—but her repu-
tation was spotless. Her ex-husband was
immediately ruled out as a_ suspect;
first because they had maintained friend-
ly relations after the divorce and sec-
ondly because it was quickly established
that he had been nowhere near the
vicinity of the crime at the time it
occurred.
By this time a post mortem had been
performed and the fatal bullet removed
from the head of the slain woman.
It was a .22.
More important, the ballistics bureau
reported that the slug had many similar
markings to the two recovered from the
previous shootings although further,
more minute tests would be required to
establish beyond all doubt that the three
bullets had been fired from the same
weapon.
The information was definite enough
for Lieutenant Rosenberg; however. To-
gether with Sergeant Dailey he called
in Sergeant Gilbert Leslie of the Nor-
walk sheriff’s substation. The latter had
been working for the past two days on
‘the first shooting and the attempt on the
second woman’s life.
‘We know that these three crimes are
tied up together, the work of one in-
dividual,” the head of the Los Angeles
sheriff's homicide detail pointed out.
“And frankly, that’s just about all we
know. The newspapers are yelling for a
quick solution, and an end to what they
call a reign of terror, but none of them
are advancing any bright suggestions
as to how to. go about it. On top of
that, we haven’t any physical clues to
work on.”
“So what do we do?” Dailey asked.
|} gpctnt sae sighed heavily as he
gave his answer. ‘“‘We do the un-
spectacular things that never make good
headlines but are nine-tenths of effi-
cient police work. First of all we throw
out a city-wide dragnet and see what
we come up with. We concentrate on
two different groups. The shootings may
have been done by a juvenile, trigger-
happy and out for a thrill. So we'll
round up every juvenile who bas ever
been in trouble in the hopes of getting
a lead of some sort.
“That’s move number one. Next
comes the second group we want to
question. These three crimes are ap-
parently without any normal motive.
And that may well mean something—
the lack of a normal motive, and the
fact that each time it was a woman
who was the victim or the intended
victim. That would indicate that the
shootings could well have been the
work of a sex pervert, the type that only
gains satisfaction through excessive
brutality. We’ve had our share of such
cases before. Remember the Black
DETECTIVE CASES
Dahlia business?
“I want the files checked through
for: the past ten years and every sex
offender investigated. That will take
time and patience, but we’ve plenty
of both. After that there is only one
thing left to do.”
“What’s that?” Sergeant Leslie asked.
Lieutenant Rosenberg smiled thinly.
“Wait for a lucky break!” he said
tersely. “But you can’t tell the news-
papers that!”
But in the end all that happened on
the credit side of the ledger was that
the first victim of the phantom sniper
recovered from her near-fatal wound
and was released from the hospital.
Meantime detectives and probation au-
thorities had made an exhaustive case-
history study of every juvenile delin-
quent on record in the city and suburbs
and had spent endless hours in inter-
views and cross-checks. The results
were negative.
The same was true of the all-out in-
vestigation of every known sex deviate
in the city and county.
During this same period dozens of
anonymous tips and well-meant leads
flooded headquarters and these, too, had
to be painstakingly run down.
HEN, on October 16th, just as the
press and public were forgetting
the terror that marked the final days of
August, the mysterious sniper struck
again. This time the victim was a pretty
little girl, She was waiting on the side-
walk near her home for the school bus
when a bullet smashed into her right
forearm, shattering the bone.
Again there were no clues, no eye-
witnesses to the crime.
Again it was a .22 slug that was
recovered.
So the newspapers and civic groups
once more cried for speedy action. The
harassed detectives under Lieutenant
Rosenberg worked around the clock,
seeking some elusive clue where none
seemed to exist.
No further action came until Novem-
ber 22nd. That was when a 40-year-old
housewife was shot in the thigh while
working in her garden.
It was the same old, familiar story.
No clues—but a .22 slug that did the
trick.
‘Then, the day after Christmas, it
happened again. Another housewife
was standing at the ironing board in
her kitchen when she was suddenly
felled by a bullet in her hip.
A bullet fired from the same .22
caliber weapon used in the previous
snipings.
By then the phantom sniper had be-
come a major issue in local politics.
Citizens groups clamored for protec-
tion—radio commentators and news-
paper editorialists castigated the police
for laxity.
Pressured from all sides for action
Lieutenant Rosenberg managed to re-
tain an outward calm. He was in almost
daily conference with Sergeants Leslie
and Dailey, studying the arrests of every
nature made the preceding day, search-
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* ‘ground and large green
now it wherever I saw
to the story of how the
orpse. Martin had seen
om-used trail crossed a
‘n in about four feet of
4 rocks and fastened to
“wire. Around the neck
ssed with a halter rope.
by an ax or heavy maul,
small, powder-burned
itopsy surgeon.had re-
were still clad in new
were encased in what
lite shirt, stained with
ody. This clothing also
‘een worn by Edlinger
ousers pocket had been :
2, Mo., Bank, a folding
in the shape of a skull
t of an old glove. This,
his clawlike finger to
recalled the strangely
ession. But no monev
cktie or hat.
“When I shoot at women I get excited."
Attributing his seven shootings to an un-
n dumped in the
d weighted down
‘ontinued on page 56]
Od (By ' rhyme or reason for choosing his victims.”
ATTRACTIVE 21-year-old Lois. May Kreutzer felt a sharp
pain at her breast as she collapsed in an outdoor telephone
booth at Rivera, Calif., on August 27, 1951. Examination re-
vealed: she had been shot by a .22-caliber bullet. The young
woman recovered from her painful wound, but the southeastern
section of Los Angeles: was thrown into a panic as the deadly
marksman escaped to shoot again and again. On August 28, he
fired at Mrs. Lloyd M. Walter, but missed, On the 29th, Mts.
Nina Marie Bice, 25, who sat drinking a cup of coffee at a ham-
burger stand, succumbed instantly from a pellet in her brain.
Almost two months were to go by before the murderer sallied
forth again. This time his victim was 10-year-old Patricia
Bryant. As she was waiting for a school bus, a .22 bullet
shattered her forearm. Then, in tapid succession: Mrs. Irma
Alice Megrdle, 40, was wounded in the left hip as she worked in
her garden; a slug lodged three inches from the heart of Mrs.
Audrey Murdock, 42, as she stood at her ironing board. Thus
from August 27 to December 26, 1951, the phantom sniper had
killed one woman, wounded four and missed one.
On the night of April 16, 1952, Evan Charles Thomas left the
home of Mr. and Mrs. George Hiles, after viewing a TV program.
Ten minutes later, his hostess, lovely Joan Frances Hiles, heard
the whine of a bullet and then a thud as it entered the wall over
the couch where she had just been seated. Frantically the house-
wife phoned the police. When they arrived
and examined the ground outside, they
found a still smoldering cigaret butt. One
thing that struck the officers was the fact
that the gunman must have known where
Mrs. Hiles had been sitting, for the blinds -
were drawn. Thomas was questioned. It
wasn’t long before he admitted that he was
the sniper. “I remember the first time I
pulled the trigger. I was driving past this
little coffee stand. I saw this girl sitting
there. I sort of wanted a date with her, if
you know what I mean. She had a cup to her
face. I aimed at it. But I hit her in the
head.
“When I shoot a woman I get excited
and get a thrill out of it,” was his expla-
nation. —PETER STRANGE
Above, Joan Hiles missed being shot
by less than three inches. Bullet hole
can be seen at bottom of screen. Left,
Arthur Murdock comforts daughter while
they await word from hospital where
Mrs. Murdock, phantom sniper’s sixth
victim, was confined before recovery.
natural urge, the sniper said he had: “no |
|
t
the urge to kill
le to do the job
PER
LETS
THE
KED
MIEN
ph Crane
od from mystery bullet.
.” he escort said.
aa said as they pulled up
appetite. All I’ll have is a
nother of three, who worked
id buy the family groceries,
their coffee, exchanging the
h counters and bars.
ffee cup to her lips when
ispended for a split second.
ad crashed to the tiled patio
d Nina’s face. She uttered
gasp, half turned and then
et side close by the shattered
at her in disbelief. This
DETECTIVE CASES
Detective Don Mead with rifle.
turned to shock when he saw blood spurting from a wound
in Nina’s temple. He looked around wildly seeking an
explanation. Other patrons at the counter were gazing
dumbfounded at the fallen girl. :
Nina’s escort finally recovered enough to kneel down be-
side her, his handkerchief trying to staunch the flow of blood.
“She’s been shot,” he cried over and over. “It’s that mad
sniper.. But why Nina?”
Someone summoned an ambulance and the police. But
for Nina Bice all help arrived too late. She had been dead
when she hit the drive-in’s floor.
Now it was a matter for the police alone and in short
order most of the top brass of Los Angeles’ homicide de-
tail were gathered at the scene. To the growing crowd of
spectators attracted by the gruesome spectacle of sudden
and mysterious death by violence it was quickly apparent
that more than routine official attention was being focused
on the case.
Her friend, dazedly trying to answer the questions put
to him, was unaware of any special emphasis.
“T don’t know—I don’t understand,” he kept repeating to
Detective Sergeant Richard: Dailey. “One second she’s sitting
next to me, drinking coffee, and the next thing I know
she’s on the ground, bleeding from some kind of wound in
her face.”
“Did you hear any sound of gunfire?” Dailey demanded.
The man shook his head. “Not that I’m aware of. I mean,
there was plenty of traffic going by and if I heard the gun-
shot I probably thought it was a truck back-firing. You
get so you don’t pay any attention to sounds like that.”
The other customers of the hamburger stand present at
the time of the shooting had much the same type of story
to tell. None of them had seen or heard anything out of the
way until suddenly they realized that a woman had been
mysteriously murdered before their eyes.
Leaving further routine questioning to other members of
the homicide detail, Sergeant Dailey went into conference
with Lieutenant Floyd Rosenberg who had driven up a few
minutes earlier. “Nothing. much to go on,” he reported.
“According to the ambulance doc she was shot with a small
bore weapon at fairly long range. Death was practically
instantaneous.”
Rosenberg frowned as he half-turned and his eyes swept
the murder scene and the surrounding locale. One thing
was clear: the mysterious slayer had either been concealed
in one of the buildings across the way or had fired from a
parked car.
Sergeant Dailey appeared to be reading his mind. “I’ve
already detailed men to make a thorough check of the
neighborhood. But so far nothing has turned up.” He hesi-
tated, then added somberly, “Right now it’s got all the ear-
marks of the other shootings.”
DETECTIVE CASES
Nina Bice was the first victim.
Suspect watched TV program.
Rosenberg nodded, in his mind seeing the headlines that
would soon be spread across the front pages of all the local
newspapers. It had been barely 48 hours earlier that the
series of lethal snipings had started—seemingly motiveless
acts that already were beginning to terrorize suburban
Los Angeles.
N attractive young housewife was the first victim. That
was early on the morning of Monday, August 27th,
when she rushed from her home to a telephone pay station
across the way at the intersection of Rivera Road and
Passons Boulevard to summon a doctor for her ailing baby.
She made the’ call, hung up, and started out of the phone
booth.
That was when. a sudden, sharp pain bit into her side.
When she clutched herself she was surprised to find blood
seeping through her thin housedress.
She made her way painfully back to her home, but
when the doctor she had called for her baby arrived some —
fifteen minutes later it was the mother who was most in
need of attention. Rushed by ambulance to a_ hospital,
X-rays revealed that a .22 caliber bullet had passed through
her liver and one kidney. An emergency operation had been
immediately performed, but according to the latest reports
from the hospital she was still hovering between life and
death.
No clue had so far been uncovered as to her assailant.
Then, on Tuesday evening, there was another mysterious
shooting.
_A man and his wife were sitting quietly in the living room
of their home in Norwalk, in the eastern outskirts of Los
Angeles, when their calm was abruptly broken by the sharp
report of a gun, the shattering of broken window glass, and
a bullet slapping into the wall just above the wife’s head.
The husband dashed out of the house, but there was no
sign of the gunman. Nor were there any cars moving on
the quiet residential street.
The police, when they arrived a few minutes later, had no
better luck in discovering a clue to the near-fatal mystery.
But when the spent slug was dug out of the living room wall
it turned out to be a .22 caliber bullet.
And now, just 24 hours later, there was this third shoot-
ing—and this time it was murder.
“The chances are strong that this is the work of the same
man,” Rosenberg said slowly. ‘““The newspapers will probably
say so, at any rate. But we can’t work on that angle alone.
We have to keep in mind that it may be sheer coincidence.
That means we mustn’t overlook any of the usual back-
ground investigation.”
But despite intensive work during the following hours the
latter course of investigation failed to turn up anything of
possible importance. It was true (Continued on page 59)
47
ee
Murderer’s lawyers:
ca
vow to press fight; >
victim’s kin pleased:
ieee 7
By Caitlin Rother Lf 30 a 18 seis plan to pursue further ap- )
STAFF WRITER
onvicted murderer Thom-
C as M. Thompson could die
by lethal injection in two to
three months, now that the U.S.
Supreme Court has paved the ,
way for the state to set a new ex-
ecution date.
But as the family of victim
Ginger Fleischli gears up to at-
tend the execution after another
year’s delay, Thompson and his
team of attorneys are deter-
mined not to give up.
“He’s very disappointed,” said
Thompson’s San Francisco-
based attorney, Andrew Love,
“but he still has hope and faith
that he will ultimately get a new
trial and that justice will some-
how prevail,”
Gregory Long, another of
hompson’s lawyers, said the
likely next step will be to peti-
tion the 9th U.S. Circuit Court of
Appeals to hear what he consid-
ers new evidence,
Jack Fleischli, the victim’s
brother, said he cried for a few
minutes after hearing about the
ruling yesterday, and then was
able to celebrate it.
“It definitely made my year,”
said Fleischli, 48, who plans to
attend the execution with his
brother, Michael, and “see jus-
tice done.”
“The death penalty in this
case was the decision of the jury
some 17 years ago,” he said. “It
was the right decision,”
Thompson’s execution was
called off two days before its
scheduled date last year on Aug.
o, after the 9th Circuit granted
himastay.
That court, citing an adminis-
trative error in failing to hold an
appeal hearing a year earlier,
threw out the rape charge that
provided the “special circum- -
stance” necessary for the Or-
ange County man’s death sen-
tence,
Thompson was convicted in
1983 of raping and murdering
Ginger Fleischli, a Laguna Beach
nanny, two years earlier. David
Leitch, convicted of second-'
degree murder in the case, was
sentenced to 15 years to life in
prison.
He is eligible for parole next
year.
Long said Leitch testified dur-
ing a recent parole hearing that
he saw Thompson having con-
sensual sex with Ginger Fleischli
sometime before she was
stabbed five times in the head.
“What we need to do is get
back in front of the circuit and
see if this new evidence from
David Leitch will convince them
that they ought to grant Tom re-
lief,” said Long, who is based in
Los Angeles.
Orange County prosecutor
Mike Jacobs said he was not sur-
prised by either the Supreme
Court’s 5-4 ruling yesterday or
the news that Thompson’s attor-
x
Pa t}F
peals.
“Texpect them to filesome 2
more petitions for relief,” Jacobs | is
said. “Idon’texpectthemto =
stop.” ae Q
Thompson’s claim that he had
consensual sex with Fleischli
was noted in the Supreme
Court’s majority opinion, which —
was written by Justice Anthony
M. Kennedy, —
Love said the case has been a,
“procedural morass.”
It was marked by the unusual x
~
stand last year by seven former .
Prosecutors who raisedcon-
cerns about Thompson’s death ~ of
sentence. Ina legal brief, they $e)
said Leitch, who had been ro- >
mantically involved with the vic es
tim, was a likelier candidate for ay
the crimes. at
Kennedy acknowledged that 4}
this is not “an ordinary case” but )
said he saw no evidence of CS.
Thompson’s innocence.
Still, Kennedy described the
circuit court’s recall of the exe- <u
cution mandate as a “grave ‘ay
\
‘|
S
abuse of discrétion.”
Jack Fleischli, an actor and ens,
tertainment lawyer, supported ate |
dies. That really
has akindof —
Roman circus,
thumbs-up, =
thumbs-down sort:
of quality to it.”
Lance Lindsey, executive
director of Death Penalty
Focus
“By one vote, he — € :
Kennedy’s criticism of the 9th
Circuit Court, and added his
own. aide
“It really calls into question \””
the integrity of the justices ee
themselves when they use their @ i.
personal bias against the death:
penalty to influence themand
motivate them to manipulate” ;)
decisions so as to strike down ne
death sentences, he said. fie
Lance Lindsey, executive di-
rector of Death Penalty F OCcUuS, ay. |
Statewide organization fighting
to get rid of the death penalty in aes
California, put the 5-4 rulingina,
different light. be
“By one vote, he dies. That isi
tfeally has akind of Roman cir-
cus, thumbs-up, thumbs-down
sort of quality to it,” he said.
Lindsey called the criminal ia
justice system “highly politi- fon
cized” and “very imperfect.” |
Anyone who is familiar with
this case, he said, knows there
has been a “tremendous vari-
ance” in the interpretations of
the evidence. “It’s extrémely
distressing that it’s gone this
far,”
‘Sigh
