One little presumption, but it would cause many, many problems later.
As would the estimated time of death.
Asked by the detectives to determine the time, Katsuyama came up with 3 P.M. Sunday. When other evidence appeared to contradict this, the detectives went back to Katsuyama and asked him to recalculate. He now decided Leno LaBianca had died sometime between 12:30 A.M. and 8:30 P.M. on Sunday, and that Rosemary had died an hour earlier. However, Katsuyama cautioned, the time could be affected by room temperature and other variables.
All this was so indecisive that the detectives simply ignored it. They knew, from Frank Struthers, that Leno was a creature of habit. Every night he bought the paper, then read it before going to bed, always starting with the sports section. That section had been open on the coffee table, with Leno’s reading glasses beside it. From this and other evidence (Leno was wearing pajamas, the bed hadn’t yet been slept in, and so forth) they concluded that the murders had probably taken place within an hour or so after the LaBiancas had left Fokianos’ newsstand, or sometime between 2 and 3 A.M. on Sunday.
As early as Monday, police were minimizing the similarities between the two crimes. Inspector K. J. McCauley told reporters: “I don’t see any connection between this murder and the others. They’re too widely removed. I just don’t see any connection.” Sergeant Bryce Houchin observed: “There is a similarity, but whether it’s the same suspect or a copycat we just don’t know.”
There were several reasons for discounting the similarities. One was the absence of any apparent link between the victims; another the distance between the crimes. Still another, and more important in formulating a motive, drugs were found at 10050 Cielo Drive, while there were none at 3301 Waverly Drive.
There was one more reason, perhaps the most influential. Even before Garretson was released, the Tate detectives had not one but several very promising new suspects.
AUGUST 12–15, 1969
From William Tennant, Roman Polanski’s business manager, LAPD learned that in mid-March the Polanskis had given a catered party at Cielo with over a hundred guests. As at any large Hollywood gathering, there were crashers, among them +Herb Wilson, +Larry Madigan, and +Jeffrey Pickett, nicknamed “Pic.”[11] The trio, all in their late twenties, were reputedly dope dealers. During the party Wilson apparently stepped on Tennant’s foot. An argument ensued, Madigan and Pickett taking Wilson’s side. Irritated, Roman Polanski had the three men evicted.
It was a minor incident, in and of itself hardly cause for five savage murders, but Tennant had heard something else: “Pic” had once threatened to kill Frykowski. This information had come to him through a friend of Voytek’s, Witold Kaczanowski, an artist professionally known as Witold K.
Not unmindful of the similarity between “Pic” and the bloody-lettered PIG on the front door of the Tate residence, detectives interviewed Witold K. From him they learned that after the Polanskis had left for Europe, Wilson, Pickett, Madigan, and a fourth man, +Gerold Jones, were frequent visitors to the Cielo residence, Wilson and Madigan, according to Witold, supplying Voytek and Gibby with most of their drugs, including the MDA they had taken before they died. As for Jeffrey Pickett, when Gibby and Voytek took over Cielo, he moved into their Woodstock residence. Witold was staying there also. Once, during an argument, Pickett tried to strangle the artist. When Voytek learned of this, he told Pickett to get out. Enraged, Pic swore, “I’ll kill them all and Voytek will be the first.”
Numerous others also felt one or more of the men might be involved, and passed on their suspicions to the police. John and Michelle Phillips, formerly of the Mamas and Papas group and friends of four of the five Tate victims, said Wilson once drew a gun on Voytek. Various Strip habitués claimed Wilson often bragged that he was a hired killer; that Jones was an expert with knives, always carrying one for throwing; and that Madigan was Sebring’s “candy man,” or cocaine source.
More than ever convinced that the Tate homicides were the result of a drug burn or freakout, LAPD began looking for Wilson, Madigan, Pickett, and Jones.
For ten years Sharon Tate had sought stardom. Now she attained it, in just three days. On Tuesday, August 12, her name moved from the headlines onto theater marquees. Valley of the Dolls was rereleased nationally, opening in more than a dozen theaters in the Los Angeles area alone. It was quickly followed by The Fearless Vampire Killers and other films in which the actress had appeared, the only difference being that now she was given star billing.
That same day the police told reporters that they had officially ruled out any connection between the Tate and LaBianca homicides. According to the Los Angeles Times, “Several officers indicated they were inclined to believe the second slayings were the work of a copycat.”
From the start, the two investigations had proceeded separately, with different detectives assigned to each. They would continue this way, each team pursuing its own leads.
They had one thing in common, though that similarity widened the distance between them. Both were operating on a basic assumption: in nearly 90 percent of all homicides the victim knows his killer. In both investigations the chief focus was now on acquaintances of the victims.
In checking out the Mafia rumor, the LaBianca detectives interviewed each of Leno’s known business associates. All doubted the murders were Mafia originated. One man told the detectives that if the Mafia had been responsible, he “probably would have heard about it.” It was a thorough investigation, the detectives even checking to see if the San Diego company where Leno had purchased his speedboat during their 1968 vacation was Mafia financed; it wasn’t, though numerous other businesses in the Mission Bay area were allegedly backed by “Jewish Mafia money.”
They even questioned Leno’s mother, who told them, “He was a good boy. He never did belong to the association.”
The elimination of a possible Mafia link, however, did not leave the LaBianca detectives without a suspect. In questioning neighbors of the pair, they learned that the house to the east, 3267 Waverly Drive, was vacant, and had been for several months. Prior to that it had been a hippie hangout. The hippies didn’t interest them, but another former tenant, +Fred Gardner, did, very much.
From his rap sheet and from interviews they learned that Gardner, a young attorney, “has had mental problems in the past and claims he blacks out for periods of time and is not responsible for his actions…” During an argument with his father, he “grabbed a knife from the kitchen table and chased his father, stating that he would kill him…” In September 1968, after being married only two weeks, “for no apparent reason [he] administered a vicious beating to his wife, then grabbed a knife from the kitchen drawer and attempted to kill her. She warded off the blows and managed to escape and call the police.” Booked for attempted murder, he was examined by a court-appointed psychiatrist, who found he had “uncontrolled aggressions of maniacal proportions.” Despite this, the charge had been reduced to simple assault. He was released on probation, and returned to the practice of law.
11
Everything in this book is based on fact. In a few instances the names of persons only tangentially involved have been changed for legal reasons, the cross symbol (+) indicating the substitution of a pseudonym for the true name. The persons were and are real, however, and the incidents depicted are entirely factual.