August 9, 1969 - Tate Beginning

The old Ford did its job. Despite Tex getting lost for a while in the canyon, the car finally found its way to Cielo Drive.

It was after midnight. The calendar worm had turned.

After skillfully climbing the pole and cutting four telephone lines with the ranch's bolt-cutters (Tex would have made a great telephone repair guy. How did he know which wires to cut? Is that just a natural, God-given talent, or what?), Tex climbed back down and parked the car for a fast get-a-way. The four walked back up the hill to the gate and beyond.

"Shh! Sadie, Katie, stop giggling. I need you to focus. When we get in there, stay close to me and keep quiet."

Sadie and Katie nodded. Linda stared straight ahead, a blank slate of uncertainty.

Tex helped each girl climb over the chain-link fence to the right of the main gate. Within minutes, Tex heard an engine thrum. From inside the property, a car approached. Its headlights momentarily blinded Tex and the girls.

"Stay back! Someone's coming." Tex shoved the girls back into some scrub bushes on the land jut-out.

Tex waited for the driver to stop and roll down his driver-side window to push the gate button to exit. The car stopped. The window rolled down. Tex stepped out of the shadows, the .22 Buntline in his left hand and the bayonet in his right, jabbing both in the boy's face.

"Halt!"

"Hey, please don't shoot. I won't say anything, I promise." Steve Parent raised his arm in defense. The teen wore a red, white, and blue plaid shirt, blue jeans, white socks, and black shoes, and his ever present spectacles.

Tex sliced Steve's arm, severing the teen's wristwatch strap. It flew and landed on the left rear passenger seat. A couple blood drops hit the Sony Digital AM/FM Radio/Alarm-Clock sitting in the front passenger seat. Its rotating numbers stuck at 12:15 a.m.

But no one in this harrowing scene was interested in the time now.

Before Steve could say another word, gunshots, four, cracked in quick succession.

Steven Earl Parent, aged 18, was no more. A boy needlessly gun downed, being in the wrong place at precisely the wrong time, having nothing to do with Hollywood's Beautiful People Charlie so despised.

If Manson had been there, he may have whispered with smiling eyes, "That makes three." But Charlie wasn't there to keep count.

If you're wondering at Manson's math, he summed it up like this — Crowe, Hinman, and Parent. To this point, Charlie assumed Crowe was dead. Miraculously, Bernard Crowe, aka Lotsapoppa, had survived Charlie's haphazard Buntline.

Tex chose 10050 Cielo Drive as the target. He had been there for a party when Dean Moorehouse was living in the guest house. [Manson told prosecutor Vincent Bugliosi he had been to 10050 Cielo Drive five or six times. I assume most likely to see Dean and/or Rudy Altobelli, the latter, an agent to Hollywood stars.] Tex knew the layout fairly well, so he felt in control. One wonders what thoughts were racing through Tex's hopped-up head. How many more shots would be needed? Could he count on the girls to hold up their end?

Charlie told Tex to avoid gunfire. No unwanted attention. That piece of advice evaporated like the gun smoke from the four shots Tex drilled into the unsuspecting teen.

If you're taking inventory, too, that left five more live rounds in the Buntline, a slightly bloody bayonet, a 43 foot, 8 inches, 3 strand white nylon rope, and three Model#110/112 folding Buck knives at the ready for an untold number of victims yet to come.

Maybe weapon inventory is never an issue when you're high on speed, as none of the killers, then or since, expressed concern for the weapons/ammo to victims ratio.

Tex leaned in and shut off the Rambler's engine, turned off the headlights, and put the Rambler into reverse. The four backed the car into its final resting place, where it sat askew. Tex threw the gear box back into 2nd and quietly closed the driver's door. He thought of everything, but finger prints left in and on the car.

Tex must have smiled to himself, thinking, Job One done.

The four skulked to the main house. Tex gazed up at the yellow bug light over the garage, regretting not severing the power cable, too. Christmas lights twinkled in a string laid across the split-rail fence — placed there by the prior resident and girlfriend of Terry Melcher, actress Candice Bergen. And two coach lanterns glowed a bright amber on either side of the front door.

Tex peeked through the windows. The interior seemed far less lit, quiet, still. Dead quiet, in fact.

"Linda, go ‘round back and see if there's a way in," whispered Tex.

As so she did.

Moments later, Linda returned to the front lawn. "There's no way in. Nothing." Linda didn't try hard. In her own way, she was pleading with Tex to give up this creepy-crawl, so they could flee before more lives were lost.

But there were several ways to enter. Windows were open, some free of screens at the north end of the house, nearest the garage, where Linda had been. Those windows belonged to the freshly painted nursery, opened to air out paint fumes. It remains unknown if Linda did not see them in the dark or chose not to tell Tex.

Alas, Linda's efforts became moot. Tex refused to say die on Charlie's plan.

The dining-room windows, although screened, were open and unlocked. Any waft of cool night air was needed on that oh, so sweltering August night.

Tex made quick work of the dining room screen, easily removing it from the frame. Tex climbed inside, and within seconds opened that all too silent front door to the girls. (Side Note: Why do things make noise when you don't want them to and don't when you need them to?)

Tex motioned for Sadie and Katie to enter. Linda didn't move. Tex realized Linda couldn't function. He whispered, "Go back to the car and wait." And Linda did.

The trio tip-toed into the living room, and to their next prey. Sadie stood at the head of a tan suede couch. Katie stood in back. Tex approached the front and sharply kicked his cowboy boot into the feet of the man who was lying there sound asleep. The man was Wojiciech “Voytek" Frykowski, aged 32. He was dressed in a purple shirt, casual vest, multi-colored pants, and brown high-top shoes.

"Wake up!"

Voytek woke with a start. "Who are you? What do you want?"

"I'm the Devil here to do the Devil's business."

Tex turned to Sadie. "Go get something to tie up this guy."

And off Sadie scampered, returning with two pale yellow bath towels from the hall closet. Sadie knew where the linen closet was located. One sunny afternoon while visiting Dean Moorehouse, Sadie and Gypsy had swum naked in the pool and been offered those same towels by either Voytek or Gibby. Kismet gone horribly wrong.

Katie and Sadie used a towel to secure Voytek's hands behind his back and shoved him back against the couch to await whatever Fate had in store.

Just like Sadie and Katie, Linda held her Buck knife at the ready. But unlike the other girls, Linda stood frozen with fear, useless amid the horror that was unfolding.

Tex whispered, "Check out the back rooms. But do it quietly, man. Don't let them get the jump on you."

Sadie beamed a smile and skipped down the hall. Yes, I say skipped because that's what she did. Sadie Mae Glutz was having way too much speed-fueled fun.

Pausing at the first door on the left, Sadie waved at a woman who was sitting up in bed reading a novel. Sadie noticed a lovely little pink stuffed-animal bunny sitting atop the headboard. The woman was Abigail "Gibby" Folger, aged 25, heiress to the Folger coffee fortune. She was dressed in a full-length white nightgown. Gibby smiled back at Sadie, undoubtedly assuming the girl was a friend of Sharon's come to visit.

Sadie walked a couple more feet and peeked into the next room. She saw a woman propped up in bed surrounded by pillows, talking quietly with a man who sat by her side. The man was smiling, a wine glass in his left hand.

The woman was Sharon Tate-Polanski, aged 26, eight and a half months pregnant with her unborn son, already named Paul Richard. Sharon wore a multi-colored floral bra and panty set. The man beside her was Thomas John Kummer, aka "Jay Sebring," aged 35, an internationally renowned hair stylist and founder of Sebring International. Jay was dressed in a blue shirt, black and white vertical striped slacks, and black high-top boots, wearing a Cartier watch worth approximately $1500 in 1969.

Sadie scampered back to the living room and cheerfully reported to Tex. "There's only three I see. One woman by herself and a couple in the back bedroom."

"Is the guy big?"

"Nah, he's kinda short and real thin. I can take 'im!" boasted Sadie.

"Fine, you bring the two out. Katie, you go get the woman."

And off they went. Sadie skipped off again. Katie didn't skip. Her demeanor presented as deadly serious.

Sadie called out to Sharon and Jay, "Hi y'all! We're here to have a party, so get out there and let's party!" The couple looked up at the strange woman with more surprise than fear.

"What's going on? Who are you?" Jay said. His initial expression one of amusement, assuming this was his buddy Steve McQueen pulling yet another silly prank.

"We want a party, and we want it now." Sadie approached Jay and thrust her knife against his shirt, the point pricking his stomach just enough to have him jerk back and drop the glass of wine. Perturbed but still not afraid, Jay quickly rose from the bed, swaying a little as he did.

"Hey, what's this? Did McQueen put you up to this? It's not funny, you know. Sharon's not feeling well."

"You'll see. Come out and meet my friends. Now." Sadie's voice went from warm to cold in a downbeat heartbeat. The knife, more directed.

Jay turned to Sharon. She looked at him for answers he didn't have. He held out his arm for Sharon to grasp, her heavy belly putting her off balance these days. As the trio made their way down the hall, Katie could be heard talking with Gibby.

"Get up! Get to the living room. C'mon, get up! Get up!" Katie's tone was far less festive. She dragged the woman out of bed and out into the hall. Gibby instantly dropped her earlier assumption these were Sharon's friends.

Katie and Gibby entered the living room first. Tex grabbed Gibby and shoved her in front of the couch.

"What's going on here?" asked Sharon.

"Shut up woman," said Sadie.

"Who are these people?" Gibby turned to Voytek.

Voytek, prone in his awkward position on the couch, silently shook his head, letting Gibby know this was no joke. These people meant business.

Gibby was alarmed but not scared. After all, there were robberies in LA all the time. Why should this one be any different? Maybe her instinct was off because of the MDA. We will never know.

Jay entered the living room next, followed by Sharon, corralled by Sadie.

On seeing a gun pointed at Voytek, Jay's expression turned to shock and Sharon's to fear. They knew now this was no friendly prank or party crashers. This was something far uglier. The fear in the mother-to-be made Sharon stop in her tracks at the end of the hall, not wanting to take a step farther. Tex walked over, flipped off the light with his elbow, and dragged Sharon by her hair to the front of the couch.

Sharon yelped.

"Hey, watch it! Be careful, she's pregnant!" Jay yelled.

"Talk once more and you're dead!"

Tex's eyes were fully dilated, like jet-black saucers. He was walking, talking hatred, high on adrenaline and speed, and would easily eliminate whoever got in his way.

Tex grabbed Jay by the shoulders and shoved him into the occasional chair to the left of the couch. Tex unwound the rope and tied Jay's wrists, wrapped it one and a half times around Jay's neck, and swung the other end over the cross beam which supported the upper loft. With the dropped end, Tex wrapped it twice around Sharon's neck.

"All we want is your money. Give it to us and nobody gets hurt," Tex said.

"My wallet is on the desk behind you. Just take it, man," Voytek said in a monotone.

"My wallet's in the bedroom." Gibby's voice tremor filled.

"Take her back, get the money, and come back." Tex ordered Katie.

Gibby and Katie re-entered the bedroom. The stuffed animal bunny looked on but could give no help to its owner.

"Is this all you got?" Katie said.

"Do you want my credit cards? They're in the other compartment. Take them."

"No, we want cash." Katie said in a monotone voice.

The two returned. Katie had $72 and change.

***

It would be the entire night's take, as the killers missed other cash in the house. Divided by five souls, a little under $10.50 per person. There were valuables to be had at 10050, too — several expensive pieces of jewelry, electronic items, and a myriad of drugs. Tex either chose not to properly search the place or forgot Charlie's goal — $600 for bail for Bobby and the girls.

***

Katie shoved Gibby back into position. Tex wrapped what was left of the rope around Gibby's neck.

"Sadie, you take this end [of the rope] and pull hard." Tex hoped to fulfill Charlie's suggestion of a reverse Ku Klux Klan hanging, further implicating the Black Panthers.

As Sadie pulled on the rope, her Buck knife fell from her grasp. It landed, blood-free, with the blade facing up behind Jay's black leather jacket and the cushion of the occasional chair in which Jay was seated.

Sadie pulled the rope taut enough to make Sharon and Gibby cry out. That was all Jay needed to forget Tex's threat. Jay jumped to his feet and yelled, "Stop it! You're hurting—"

One shot. Jay was hit with the Buntline. He fell to the floor, onto his right side, in a semi-fetal position, apparently never moving, nor speaking again. Tex kneeled next to the Jay, and stabbed him with the bayonet seven times, three of which were fatal blows.

Untold screams, shouts, or maybe terrified silence. I can't imagine the horror in Voytek, Gibby, and Sharon in that moment.

Tex got to his feet. "You, motherfucker! I told ya not to speak!" Tex capped off his disgust for the insolent Jay by kicking him on the left side of his face, severely bruising his left eye and leaving a massive abrasion on the bridge of his nose and cheek. Jay wouldn't be talking out of turn ever again. Tex made sure of that.

***

The Coroner said the cause of death for Jay Sebring was exsanguination. Jay simply bled out. His hands were balled up into tight, white fists. From the pain, a mix of emotional and physical, no doubt. We will never be sure if Jay died instantly or heard Sharon's later screams, the love of his life being mercilessly stabbed to death. I pray death came instantly to Jay. But my twinging gut fears not.

According to the killers, after Jay was killed, panic erupted. This creepy crawl for cash morphed into a kill or be killed battle. Death for these innocents at any cost.

***

Sharon and Gibby screamed a second time. They had been temporarily hung by their necks from the weight of Jay's body hitting the floor.

Gibby was the first to break free and run for the hall. The rope tied around her neck possibly loose enough to undo. Katie caught up with Gibby at the Queen Anne chair, which sat to the right of the hall. Katie stabbed her, over and over, slicing and slashing her way into Gibby's body. Blood splotches stained Gibby's white nightgown. Blood spatter cast-off from Katie's Buck knife covered the nearby wall and carpet.

Voytek, fueled by terror, his MDA stupor and sleepiness long gone, began his own epic struggle to survive. He broke free of that ridiculously loose towel and ran for the front door.

Sadie dropped the rope and ran outside. Linda had heard the screams and ran back in time to meet Sadie on the walkway. "Linda, give me your knife! I need your knife!" Linda robotically handed over her knife.

Sadie ran back in and dove at Voytek's legs. She grabbed Voytek's left leg and stabbed three or four times (eight stab wounds were eventually discovered by the coroner). Voytek pulled Sadie's hair to get her to stop.

Sadie screamed at the pain. "Tex, help me! He's getting away! Help!"

Tex came to Sadie's rescue just as she lost her grip on Voytek's leg. Tex grabbed Voytek's right shoulder, swung him around, and hit him over the head with the butt of the Buntline. The grip broke into three pieces, two which fell near two blue steamer trunks — delivered that afternoon from Sharon's trip abroad — and the third landing near the entry way. Voytek tried to pull away. Tex punched, then stabbed Voytek with the bayonet. Blood streamed out, rapidly soaking into his purple shirt and multi-colored pants.

The punches and stabs weren't enough to bring down the hardy Pole. Voytek broke free of both Sadie and Tex and fell head-first into the two steamer trunks. One trunk fell on top of the other, like giant blue dominoes. The trunks now stood in Voytek's way and momentarily hampered his escape through the front door.

***

Voytek's ultimate destination will remain forever unknown. Through the excruciating pain, the poor man probably didn't have a plan other than to flee the assault. He could have headed left, towards the driveway, to pound on the doors of the other homes on Cielo Drive. But once outside, he veered right, as if heading to the guest house. I doubt he had Gibby's car keys. Jay's Porsche keys were probably in his leather jacket. And Sharon's Ferrari was out for repairs. William Garretson did not own a car. Regardless, Voytek was too wounded to drive.

***

The screams. Oh, the screams. Linda, weaponless and her sight blurred from streaming tears, wanted to run, to flee herself, but all she could do was stand there, glued to the unfolding horror. Voytek lurched onto the porch. Linda saw the poor man stumble a few feet then collapse into the righthand walkway bush. Voytek grabbed onto the porch pillar to regain his footing. He staggered down the walkway and looked Linda in the face. His expression, carved in pain and terror. "Oh God, no, please no! Oh God, No!"

Linda bent forward, her hands in a prayerful gesture. "Oh, God, I am so sorry."

Sadie ran out after Voytek.

Linda begged, "Sadie, make it stop. I hear people coming. Please, just make it stop!"

With a glassy-eyed stare, Sadie said, "It's too late. Go back to the gate and see if someone is coming."

Linda ran off into the night.

Sadie gleefully ran after Voytek, her borrowed Buck knife upraised and ready to strike again.

Linda reached the gate but had no intention of stopping there. She climbed over the hillside jut out, the chain-link fence, and ran back to the Ford. She started the engine but wasn't brave enough to drive away.

Back at the house, the Family killing "fun" had only just begun.

Tex hovered for a time in the living room. Should he stay with the blond woman? Help Katie with the brunette? Or pursue the big man out the door?

Tex stabbed Gibby in the lower abdomen with the bayonet, then went after Voytek. He was white-hot with rage for the big man. He had made him break Charlie's gun and made killing such a messy affair. Tex raced for the front door, leaving a right ring finger print on the outside door frame. On the lawn, Voytek had escaped Sadie's clutches. Tex raised the Buntline, took deadly aim, and shot Voytek twice in the back.

Seven bullets spent, two more at the ready.

Voytek crumpled to the grass. He regained his footing for a third time and advanced farther on the lawn. Tex tackled Voytek to the ground. His days playing on the Copeville, Texas high school football team finally paid off. Tex and Sadie stabbed Voytek's limp body 51 times. Tex pistol whipped Voytek 13 times on the head and kicked him with his cowboy boots a couple times to insure Voytek was as dead as he looked.

"Geez, he was tough. I didn't think we'd ever get him!" Sadie giggled like she was playing a childhood game of tag. Only in this game, when you were tagged, you were forever tagged.

"Yeah, the goddamned asshole! Where did he think he was goin', anyhow? He made me shoot him and break the gun. Jesus! Charlie's going to be mad." Tex puffed hard from the exertion, his health not what it used to be, post the dumpster food and his drugged-up lifestyle with the Family.

Back in the living room, Gibby finally broke free. Despite the searing pain, Gibby held her lower stomach and ran down the hall to Sharon's bedroom. She fled through the white shuttered French doors, leaving two blood spots that would later be discovered — one drop at the entrance to Sharon's bedroom and a few blood smears on the shutters. In her mindless pursuit of Gibby, Katie left a left pinky finger print on the bloodied shutters.

Gibby finally made it outside. She lurched forward, past the pool, bypassing the guest house, dripping blood on the stone walk way and on a green garden hose coiled up near some bushes. Gibby cradled her stomach. Blood flowed out of the gaping bayonet wound and through her fingers. She reached the lawn within feet of the split-rail fence, but the pain and blood loss stopped her in her tracks. She crumpled to the grass, her head just shy of a storm drain that hadn't seen water in weeks.

Following the moans and groans, Katie found Gibby on the lawn, and the Slippie pounced, straddling her, slicing front and back into Gibby's body. Katie struck more bone than flesh, but managed a deep slice through Gibby's left cheek. By now, Gibby's white nightgown had been stained a blood red.

"Stop! I give up. I'm already dead." These were the last words Abigail Anne "Gibby" Folger would ever speak. She wasn't dead yet, but she soon would be.

"Tex, help me! She's not dead! She won't die!" Katie stabbed relentlessly at Gibby, but most were superficial, none bringing death.

Having finally killed Voytek, Tex, exhausted, shook his head, inhaled, and lumbered across the lawn and over to the dying Gibby, his boot-kicking foot throbbing from over-use. He kneeled beside Gibby and barked at Katie. "Go to the back-house — meaning the guest house — and kill whoever is there."

Katie, like the attacking robot she was, did as she was told. She passed by the backlit, aquiline-colored pool. Her Buck knife dripped blood from its point along the way. Her clothes blood-splattered, her long hair, matted, her bloody hands sticky.

Tex eyeballed Katie, then went to work on Gibby. The bayonet made quick work of Katie's superficial and messy Buck knife slashings. Gibby was dead now, stabbed 28 times, with deep penetrating wound No. 8 hitting the aorta, being the fatal blow.

The porch light was on outside the guest house. Inside was aglow with lights in a room beyond Katie's view. She peered through the door window. She saw no one but heard a cacophony of barks and growls from dogs leaping and lunging at her from the other side of the door. Katie wasn't fazed. She loved animals, and animals loved her. She turned the doorknob and entered the galley kitchen. The dogs fell silent and parted way for "The Dog Whisperer." Katie got as far as the living room entrance. She peeked around the corner long enough to see no one was in the room. Katie later admitted she would have killed whoever was there, but finding the room empty, she left. The dogs followed her to the door, licking her blood-stained hands and sniffing her blood-stained jeans. Katie turned the inside doorknob to leave. But the elongated handle remaining in the downward — or open — position.

At that moment, caretaker, William Garretson, aged 19, most likely had been hunkered down in the closet, behind a small, draped window which overlooked the pool. (Bill remained iffy on this point. At one time, he said he had been hiding in the windowless hall with the dogs). His hiding place did not shield him that night from the horrific sights and sounds. A mere 40 minutes earlier, Bill had chosen not to buy the alarm clock his friend, Steven Parent, had brought to sell him on an impromptu visit. Steve had plugged it in at the guest house to demonstrate its features and set the correct time. In this moment, Bill knew enough to not move a muscle from that closet, or his time would be up, too.

***

Bill was the lucky one. He survived, never having been found by the killers. For the first several days, Bill would become the primary suspect in the murders but was eventually cleared. The investigators said he was "stuporous and unresponsive" in the LAPD lie detector test. I say, trade places with this traumatized kid and see how intelligent and responsive you'd be. Bill was an innocent, effeminate boy from Ohio, who came to Hollywood for adventure. The type he found that night made him hoof it back home, never to live in So Cal again, leaving the bright lights to someone far more adventurous than him.

***

"That makes six." That's what Charlie would have whispered had he been there.

Having no one else to kill, Sadie re-entered the main house. In the few minutes it took for the other two murder-maniacs to return, Sadie sat beside Sharon on the couch and gave the starlet some home truths. By this time, Sharon was solely focused on her baby, her body near paralyzed with fear.

"Please, please, don't kill me. I don't want to die. I want to live. I want to have my baby. I want to have my baby." Sharon begged in a mumbling, repetitive, tremor-ridden tone.

"Look bitch, I don't care about you. I don't care about your baby. You might as well face it now. You're gonna die, so ya better get ready. I don't feel a thing about it."

Once Katie and Tex returned, actions taken and words said in the three to four remaining minutes have never been revealed. Sharon's life and the life of her unborn baby boy hung in the balance, like so much coastal haze in the valley way down below.

At some point, Sharon was made to lie down on the couch. It's my opinion at least two killers stabbed Sharon.

***

My guess as to positioning: Tex straddled her hips, Sadie stood over Sharon's head, holding her arms (Susan Atkins said as much), and Katie in stood in back of the couch. Sharon's left cheek was sliced near the mouth, similar to Katie's attack on Gibby. Sharon was stabbed 16 times in the chest and back, hitting the heart, lungs and liver, causing massive hemorrhage. Little Paul Richard was not stabbed, thanks to Sharon's thrashing, undoubtedly, to avoid that very thing. Medical experts state the unborn baby would have died within 20 minutes after Sharon's demise, from a lack of oxygen his mother could no longer provide.

***

When Tex got up, Sharon rolled off the couch and onto the rug, left where she landed like some discarded rag doll. With the deed done, the killers calmly left, walking around the steamer trunks, and out through the front door, leaving bloody bare feet and boot tracks along the walkway.

***

Sadie had gone on this attack barefoot. Her feet hurt and were oozing pus due another sexually transmitted disease. The one print was so complete and clear it would later be matched against her own feet for positive identification.

***

Tex, Sadie, and Katie were physically spent. Their weapons hung by their sides. Their dark clothes, as Sadie would later say, "all drippy with blood."

Before they left the property, Tex remembered the original reason they were there — to get cash and blame the murders on the Black Panthers, a copy of what Bobby had done at the Hinman scene.

Tex turned to Sadie and said, "Go back in there and write whatever you guys wrote at Gary's. Freak out the world. Let 'em know we were here."

And so Sadie did. (Susan later admitted she was spooked, returning to the hellscape on her own.) Sadie tip-toed in, dipped a towel in Sharon's blood, wrote on the outer lower panel of the front door, threw the towel back inside, and left, leaving the front door ajar.

• No Black Panther paw print was made

• “PIG" written in Sharon's blood was not Bobby's "Political Piggy"

• The Tate weapons were not the Hinman weapons

• Five victims were not one victim.

• Hinman had no connection with the Tate victims

• None of the victims had any connection to the Panthers.

Yet, in their drug-addled state, these deaths, the bloody mess, and the multiple weapons used would prove to law enforcement Bobby wasn't the killer of Gary Hinman. Bobby and the girls would then be set free. The Family could melt into the Death Valley desert, $1000 richer from Gary's vehicle “donations," and $2500 richer from Tex's drug burn with Crowe, living happily ever after.

On this night, in that house, a desk lamp shone down on an imagined calendar. Its blood-splattered page having flipped a mere hour before.

It was around 12:50 a.m., August 9, 1969.

All was dead quiet at 10050 Cielo Drive.

All except for the pool filter, the buzzing of blue-bottle flies lapping up their fresh blood meals, and the shallow breathing of one very frightened teenage boy.