Though Older and I were the only trial principals who had bodyguards, it was no secret that several, if not all, of the defense attorneys were frightened of the Family. Daye Shinn, I was told by one of his fellows, kept a loaded gun in each room of his house, in case of an unannounced visitation. What precautions, if any, Kanarek took I never learned, though Manson often assigned him top spot on his kill list. According to another defense attorney, Manson threatened numerous times to kill Kanarek; it was only fair, Manson supposedly said, since Kanarek was killing him in court.
Manson, at one point, had Fitzgerald draw up papers for Kanarek’s dismissal. According to Paul, who told the story to me, Kanarek literally got down on his knees and, with tears in his eyes, begged Manson not to fire him. Manson relented and, though they continued to disagree, Kanarek remained on the case.
Each week a member of the Los Angeles Board of Supervisors issued a press release itemizing trial costs to date. Yet even with Kanarek’s multitudinous objections, many of which called for lengthy conferences, we were covering a tremendous amount of testimony each day. A veteran court reporter said he’d never seen anything like it in twenty-odd years.
Thus far, Judge Older had done a remarkable job of holding Kanarek in check. Had he granted even half the “evidentiary hearings” Kanarek was always calling for, the ten-years estimates might have become a reality. Instead, each time Kanarek made the request, Older said, “Put your motion in writing with supporting citations.” Because of the time involved, Kanarek rarely took the trouble.
For our part, although I’d originally planned to call some hundred witnesses, I’d cut that number down to about eighty. In a case of this magnitude and complexity this was a remarkable low number. Some days saw as many as a half dozen witnesses taking the stand. Whenever possible, I’d use a single witness for several purposes. In addition to his other testimony, for example, I asked DeCarlo the names and approximate ages of each of the Family members, so it would be apparent to the jury that Manson, being older than all of them, was not likely to have played a subservient role.
When I called sheriff’s deputy William Gleason to testify that when Spahn Ranch was raided on August 16 not one Buck knife was found, Kanarek, seeing the implication of this, objected, and Older sustained the objection.
I’d almost given up getting this in when Fitzgerald, apparently thinking the absence of such knives was a plus for the defense, asked on cross-examination: “Did you find any Buck knives at the Spahn Ranch on the date of August the sixteenth, 1969?”
A. “No, sir.”
The Family’s attempt to silence Barbara Hoyt backfired. Once a reluctant witness, she was now very willing to testify.
Barbara not only confirmed Linda’s story of the TV incident; she recalled that the previous night, the night of the Tate murders, Sadie called her on the field phone at the back house, asking her to bring three sets of dark clothing to the front of the ranch. When she arrived, Manson told her, “They already left.”
Barbara’s story was both support for Linda Kasabian’s testimony and powerful evidence of Manson’s involvement, and, though unsuccessful, Kanarek fought hard to keep it out.
I was not able to bring out the Myers Ranch conversation until after a full half day of argument in chambers, and then, as I’d anticipated, I could only get in part of it.
One afternoon in early September 1969, Barbara had been napping in the bedroom at Myers Ranch when she awoke to hear Sadie and Ouisch talking in the kitchen. Apparently thinking Barbara was still asleep, Sadie told Ouisch that Sharon Tate had been the last to die because, to quote Sadie, “She had to watch the others die.”
I got this in, finally. What I couldn’t get in, because of Aranda, was the rest of the conversation: Barbara had also heard Sadie tell Ouisch that Abigail Folger had escaped and run out of the house; that Katie had caught up with her on the lawn; and that Abigail had struggled so much that Katie had to call for help from Tex, who ran over and stabbed Abigail.
In chambers, Shinn argued that he should be allowed to question Barbara about this. Older, as well as the other defense attorneys, strongly disagreed. By “Arandizing” the conversation—omitting all reference to her co-defendants—this put the onus for all five murders on Susan, Shinn complained, adding, “But other people were there too, Your Honor.”
BUGLIOSI “They were, Daye?”
Inadvertently, Shinn had admitted that Susan Atkins was present at the Tate murder scene. Fortunately for both attorney and client, this dialogue took place in chambers and not in open court.
As with the other ex–Family members, I was able to bring in through Barbara numerous examples of Manson’s domination, as well as a number of Manson’s conversations about Helter Skelter. The one thing I couldn’t get in was the Family’s attempt to prevent Barbara Hoyt from testifying.
During his cross-examination of Barbara, Kanarek attacked her for everything from her morals to her eyesight.
Aware that Barbara had very poor vision, Kanarek had her take off her glasses, then he moved around the courtroom asking how many fingers he had up.
Q. “How many can you see now?”
A. “Three.”
KANAREK “May the record reflect she said three and I have two up clearly, Your Honor.”
THE COURT “I thought I saw your thumb.”
Kanarek finally proved Barbara had bad eyesight. The issue, however, wasn’t her sight but her hearing: she didn’t claim to have seen Sadie and Ouisch in the kitchen at Myers Ranch, only to have heard them.
Kanarek also asked Barbara: “Have you been in any mental hospital for the last couple of years?”
Ordinarily I would have objected to such a question, but not this time, for Kanarek had just opened wide the door through which I could, on redirect, bring in the murder attempt.
Redirect is limited to the issues raised on cross-examination. For example, on redirect I had Barbara approximate the distance between the bedroom and the kitchen at Myers Ranch, then conducted a hearing experiment. She passed with no trouble.
Asking to approach the bench, I argued that since Kanarek had implied that Barbara Hoyt was in a mental hospital for an extended period of time, I had the right to bring out that she was in a mental ward only overnight and that it was not because of a mental problem. Older agreed, with one limitation: I couldn’t ask who gave her LSD.
Once I’d brought out the circumstances of her hospitalization, I asked: “Did you take this overdose voluntarily?”
A. “No.”
Q. “Was it given to you by someone else?”
A. “Yes.”
Q. “Were you near death?”
KANAREK “Calls for a conclusion, Your Honor.”
THE COURT “Sustained.”
It was good enough. I was sure the jury could put two and two together.
On Saturday, September 26, 1970, an era came to an end. A raging fire swept Southern California. Whipped by eighty-mile-an-hour winds, a wall of flame as high as sixty feet charred over 100,000 acres. Burned in the inferno was all of Spahn’s Movie Ranch.