It was sometime after midnight…and the calendar worm had already turned.
After skilfully climbing the pole and cutting only the telephone lines with the ranch’s red-handled bolt-cutters (Obviously, Tex would have made a great telephone repair guy! How did he know which ones to cut??? Is that just a natural, God-given talent, or what?), Tex repositioned the old Ford for a fast get-a-way, and the foursome silently walked back up the hill to the gate and beyond.
“Stop giggling Sadie, Katie; I need you to focus now. When we get in there stay close to me and keep quiet.” was all Tex whispered to the girls as, one by one, he helped them climb over the chain link fence to the right of the main gate.
“Listen, we’re all here for Charlie, Cupid and the girls. This is something we have to do for everyone, if we’re ever going to get out of here and up to Barker as a Family, do you understand? This has got to be done, you dig me?” hissed Tex, the foursome now squarely on hallowed ground.
“Yeah, we know Tex. You can count on us.” was Sadie’s reply, as Katie nodded her head in silence and Linda just stared straight ahead, a blank-slate of uncertainty.
…was the sound of a car engine as it approached the gate, its headlights momentarily blinding Tex and the girls.
“Stay back! Someone’s coming.” hissed Tex, the girls quickly obeying their leader, crouched down between the jut-out and the main drive way.
Tex waited for the occupant of the vehicle to stop and lower his driver-side window to push the gate button to exit. And just as the driver did, Tex stepped out of the shadows, the .22 Buntline in his left hand and the cutlass in his right, jabbing both in the boy’s face, as he said,
“Hey, please don’t shoot. I won’t say anything, I promise.” was all Steve Parent managed to say, as he raised his left arm up in defence.
The movement caught Tex unawares and,
went the cutlass through Steve’s arm (the very same blade that was used on Gary by Charlie only two weeks ago), slicing the boy’s wrist and severing the strap of his watch in the process, sending it flying to the left rear passenger seat.
But no one was interested in the time now.
And before either of the two men could say another word,
Bang!…Bang! Bang! Bang!
…four shots rang out in succession and Steven Earl Parent, aged 18, wearing a red, white and blue plaid shirt, blue denim pants, white socks and black shoes, was no more. A boy needlessly gun downed who had been in the wrong place at precisely the wrong time. (I told ya, being late for stuff is a life-saver…someone should have told Steve that too.)
If Charlie had been there at this moment, you may have heard him say,
”That makes three now.”
But Charlie wasn’t there to keep count that night. (Bt the way, if you’re counting like old Charlie, that’s Crowe, Hinman and Parent. It doesn’t matter that he was wrong on the count!)
Tex had been to this property at least once before, for a party when Dean Moorehouse was living in the Guest House. A party could have been going on right then with God knows how many people. One wonders what thoughts were racing through Tex’s meth & cocaine filled head, how many more shots would be needed and could he count on the girls to hold up their end of the deal. Charlie had said to avoid gunfire lest you attract unwanted attention but that piece of advice evaporated like the gun smoke from the four head and upper body shots that had just went into this boy.
If anyone was counting, that left five more rounds in the gun, a slightly bloody cutlass (yet again!), an unused 43 foot, 8 inch, 3 strand white nylon rope and three shiny new
Maybe that’s never an issue when you’re high on speed as none of the killers then nor since has expressed concern for the weapons/ammo to victims ratio…oh well, I guess I’m just a stickler for details…
As Tex shut off the engine, turned off the headlights and put the Rambler into reverse, the foursome backed the car into its final resting place. Tex was careful to throw the car back into 2nd and quietly close the driver’s side door when he was done. (Maybe he was a stickler for details after all, except when it came to finger-prints on the car, right, Tex? Oh well, you can’t have everything, now can ya?)
Job One done, thought old Tex to himself, as he and his entourage headed for the Main House.
Tex was pleased that he didn’t inadvertently cut the electricity wires as the bug light over the garage,
the Christmas lights strung across the split-rail fence (put up by the prior resident and girlfriend of Terry Melcher, Candice Bergen) and the coach lanterns on either side of the front door were still ablaze with light.
Looking through the windows, all seemed far less lit and rather too quiet, dead quiet, in fact, inside.
“Linda, go ‘round back and see if there’s a way in, an unlocked door, or window, or something.” whispered Tex.
As so she did.
Moments later, Linda returned to the front lawn, saying “There’s no way in, Tex, nothing.” almost pleading with him to give up the ghost so they could get out of there before anymore souls were lost.
There were windows which were completely unlocked and free of screens that night, at the far north end of the house, nearest the garage, where Linda had been. Those open windows belonged to the freshly painted nursery but whether Linda did not see them in the dark or chose not to tell Tex about them, still remains an unknown, hanging as densely in the air as the paint fumes from that unused nursery.
It all became moot as Tex, the former football star, refused to say die to a plan where all that was needed was five more yards and a fourth down to win the game.
The cutlass made easy work of the wimpy screen and in less time than it would take to call 1-800-SCREENS ‘R’ US, Tex was inside and opening that all too silent front door to his assistants. (Why do things squeak when you don’t want them to and don’t squeak when you need them to?) As he motioned for all three girls to enter, (yeah, you read me right, all three girls!) the foursome quietly walked into the living room and to their next prey.
As Sadie stood at the head of the tan suede couch, Linda and Katie at the back, Tex came ‘round to the front and sharply kicked with his cowboy boots, the shod feet of the man who was lying asleep on that couch, Wojiciech “Voytek” Frykowski, aged 32, dressed in a purple shirt, multi-coloured pants and brown high-top shoes and socks, as Tex said,
Voytek got up with a start and asked,
“Who are you? What do you want?”
“I’m the Devil here to do the Devil’s business.” Tex coldly hissed.
“Go get something to tie up this guy.” ordered Tex to Sadie.
And off she scampered, returning just as quickly with two pale yellow bath towels from the hall closet, (Yep! She knew where to go alright, having swum naked with Gypsy in that pool and being offered those very same towels to dry off with by either Voytek or Gibby, one sunny afternoon while visiting Dean in that Guest House…kismet gone horribly wrong, huh?) one, which was used by Katie and Sadie to secure the man’s hands (the other, not in use just yet), pushing him back down on that couch, laying on his tied hands, to await whatever fate had in store.
Linda was in that room, holding her knife at the ready, just like Katie and Sadie, but she was immobile and useless amidst the horror that was unfolding.
“Check out the back rooms and tell me how many we’ve got here, but do it quietly, Man. Don’t let them get the jump on you, okay.” whispered Tex yet again.
And off Sadie skipped, yes, I said skipped down the hall. She was having wayyyyy too much fun this night.
Pausing at the first door on the left, Sadie waved her left hand at a woman who was sitting up in bed reading a novel, a lovely little pink stuffed-animal bunny sitting on the head-board above her.
The woman, Abigail “Gibby” Folger, aged 25, heiress to the Folger Coffee fortune, dressed in a white full-length nightgown, just smiled back at Sadie, assuming, I’m sure, that this girl was a friend of Sharon’s come to visit.
Passing the woman, Sadie walked down and to the right and peeked around the corner and saw a woman propped up in bed, pillows in back and lined up beside her, talking quietly with a man who sat by her side, smiling back at her, 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, dressed only in a multi-coloured floral bra and panty set. The man was Thomas John Kummer, known in Hollywood as “Jay Sebring”, aged 35, internationally known hair stylist and founder of Sebring International, dressed in a blue shirt, white with black vertical striped tight-fitting slacks and black high-top boots, wearing a Cartier watch worth approximately $1500 in ‘69.
“There’s only three that I see, Tex. One woman by herself and a couple in the back bedroom.” Sadie said, as she quietly scampered back into the living room, cheerfully reporting the news to Tex.
“Is the guy big?” inquired Tex of Sadie.
“Nah, he’s kinda short and real thin. I can take’em!” boasted Sadie.
“Fine you bring the two out and Katie, you go get that woman.”
And off they went.
Sadie skipping yet again, Katie wasn’t. Katie looked dead serious.
“Hi y’all! We’re hear to have a party so get out there and let’s party!” Sadie said as she announced herself to the couple, who looked up at her with more surprise than shock.
“What’s going on, Man? Who are you?” asked Jay as he turned ‘round, his face lit up as if the party had already begun.
“We want a party and we want it now.” ordered Sadie as she thrust her knife against Jay’s shirt, the point pricking his stomach just enough to have him jerk back and drop that glass of wine to the floor. Perturbed but still not afraid, Jay quickly rose from the bed, swaying a little as he did, and said,
“Hey, what is this? Some kind of prank? Did McQueen put you up to this? It’s not very funny, you know. Sharon’s not feeling well.”
“You’ll see. Just come on out to the living room and meet my friends... Now!” said Sadie, a wee bit more forceful with the voice and the knife.
As Jay turned to Sharon, she looked at him for answers he didn’t have as he held out his arm for Sharon to grasp, her heavy belly easily putting her off balance these days. As the trio made their way out of the bedroom, Katie could be heard talking with Gibby,
“Get up! Come out to the living room now. C’mon, get up! Get up!” barked Katie, in a tone much less festive, as she dragged the woman out of bed and out to the hall, Gibby instantly correcting her prior assumption.
Katie and Gibby got out to the living room first and Tex grabbed Gibby and shoved her in front of the couch near the fireplace.
“V, what’s going on here? Who are these people?” asked Gibby of Voytek.
Voytek, prone in his awkward position on the couch just silently shook his head from side to side, letting Gibby know this was no joke and that these people meant business.
Gibby was alarmed but not really scared. After all, there were robberies in L.A. all the time, weren’t there? Why should this one be any different?, she thought to herself. Maybe her instincts were off because of that MDA she had ingested earlier…we’ll never know.
Then came Sadie’s turn to corral her subjects. Jay came into the living room first, then Sharon, then Sadie. On entering the room and seeing the gun pointed at Voytek, Jay’s surprised look turned to shock and Sharon’s apprehension turned to fear. They both knew now that this was not any prank nor party-crashers. This was something uglier and the fear in the Mother-To-Be made Sharon stop in her tracks. Her hesitation was long enough to make Tex come over to her, flip the hall light off with his elbow and drag her into the fray.
Sharon gave out a slight yelp as Tex yanked on her honey-blond hair to get her to come around the couch and join the others.
“Hey, watch it! Stop pulling at her! Be careful, she’s pregnant!” yelled Jay to Tex.
“Talk once more and you’re dead!” Tex yelled back at Jay, his eyes fully dilated, jet-black saucers, filled with only hatred and inhumanity to any man who would get in his way this night.
Tex grabbed Jay by the shoulders and shoved him down into the print-fabric arm chair just to the left of the couch and without delay, began to wind the white rope, Tex had brought, around Jay’s wrists, then one and a half times around his neck, swinging the rope over one of the main beams which supported the upper loft. As the rope fell back down to the floor, Tex grabbed it and wrapped it twice around Sharon’s neck.
“All we want is your money. Give it to us and nobody will get hurt.” hollered Tex.
“My wallet is on the desk behind you. Just take it, Man.” said Voytek, in a lifeless tone.
“My wallet’s in the bedroom.” nervously added Gibby.
“Take her back in there, get the money and come right back.” Tex ordered to Katie, as the two women walked back into the bedroom, the pink bunny looking on but giving no help to its owner.
“Is this all you got?” quipped Katie to Gibby.
“Do you want my credit cards? They’re in the other compartment; just take them.” offered Gibby.
“No, we want cash.” Katie mumbled in a kind of dead monotone.
And the two returned to the living room with $72 and change, the entire night’s take, divided by five souls…a little under $10.50 per person…
There was more money to be had, several expensive pieces of jewellery, electronic items and a myriad of drugs lying about the place but Tex either chose not to properly search the property or forgot to finish the job in the moments yet to come.
Katie shoved Gibby back into position and Tex continued his rope-tying fiesta, wrapping it twice around Gibby’s neck as well.
“Sadie, you take this end of the rope and pull hard on it.” ordered Tex, in the hopes of fulfilling Charlie’s suggestion of a reverse Ku Klux Klan hanging, further implicating the Black Panthers in the murders yet to come.
And as she did, her Buck knife fell from her grasp and landed, blood-free, with the blade facing up, in behind Jay’s black leather jacket and the seat cushion of the arm chair in which Jay was now seated.
Despite her small frame, old Sadie managed to pull the rope taut enough to make Sharon, along with Gibby, cry out once more in pain, and that was all Jay needed to hear to forget Tex’s warning as he jumped up from the chair and yelled out, “Stop it! You’re hurting…”
And Jay was fatally shot (as promised) by that menacing Buntline. He instantly fell to the floor, lying on his right side, apparently never moving, nor speaking out, ever again.
Tex wasn’t done with Jay just yet as he fell to the floor beside his dying victim and,
Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!…Thwack!…Thwack! Thwack!…Thwack!
stabbed deep into Jay’s defenceless body, seven separate times, three of which were, in and of themselves, fatal blows. Tex then stood back up, and to cap off his disgust at Jay’s insolence,
“You Mother-f—ker! I told ya not to speak again!” yelled Tex,
as he let fly his right cowboy boot into the left side of Jay’s face, severely bruising his left eye and leaving a massive abrasion on the bridge of his nose and cheek.
Nope, Jay wouldn’t be talking out of turn ever again. Tex made sure of that.
The Coroner said the cause of death was due to Exsanguination – or fatal blood loss. His hands were balled up into tight, white fists when he was found, the result, I’m sure, from the physical pain he suffered, or worse, from the emotional pain he felt when he heard the torturous screams coming from the love of his life, Sharon.
I pray death came to Jay before the latter, but how come the queasy feeling in the pit of my stomach is telling me different?
According to everyone of the killers, panic officially broke out after Jay was murdered. For the first time that night, the remaining three knew that this was no ordinary home invasion robbery and that the goal of these monsters was death by any means necessary.
Real screams could then be heard leaving the mouths of Sharon and Gibby, as they were temporarily hung by their nooses from the weight of Jay’s body hitting the ground. And Voytek, feeling real fear now, despite being drugged on MDA and in a sleep-state stupor, began his own epic struggle to survive.
Gibby was the first one to break free of her confines and run for the hall as Katie caught up with her near the
Thwack! Thwack!…Thwack! Thwack!Thwack!…
stabbing, slashing and slicing her way into Gibby’s body, quickly staining her white nightgown a horrible shade of red. Blood splatter cast-off, from Katie’s knife-wielding, soon covered the nearby wall and floor as well.
Voytek also broke free of that ridiculously loose towel and was heading for the front door when Sadie dropped the rope, yelling,
“Give me your knife! I need your knife! Now, Linda, please!!!”
Linda robotically did what was asked of her and as Sadie grabbed for Linda’s knife, she dove to the ground and got a hold of Voytek’s legs, and,
Jab! Slice! Thwack! Jab!…
stabbed at his lower legs at least four times as he pulled at her long hair to get her to stop.
Owww! Owww! Tex, help me! He’s getting away! Owwwww!” yelled Sadie between each painful pull of her hair.
Tex came to Sadie’s rescue just as she lost her grip on Voytek’s legs. Tex got a hold of Voytek’s right shoulder, swung him around, and,
Clunk! Boff! Bash! Clunk!…
Tex hit him over the head with the butt of that Buntline, shattering the grip into three pieces, two of which fell near the two blue steamer trunks (delivered to Sharon from her trip abroad only that afternoon) and the third just outside the threshold of the front door. As Voytek tried to pull away from his attacker,
Thwack! Slice! Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!…
Tex cut into Voytek’s back and chest with that razor-sharp cutlass, slicing him open, the blood rapidly mixing with his purple shirt and those multi-coloured pants, an horrific haute couture if ever there was one!
Tex must have wised up to Charlie’s warning to keep the noise-level down to a dull roar and chose a silent bashing and slashing over a loud banging.
The body-stabbings nor the head-bashings Voytek took weren’t enough to bring down this hardy Pole. He broke free of both Sadie and Tex and fell head-first into those two steamer trunks, one falling on top of the other, like giant blue dominos, which were now in his way and momentarily hampering his escape through that front door; destination forever unknown. (If it was to seek help from Guest House caretaker, William Garretson, geez Voytek, I think I’d take my chances with the cliff instead!)
Linda had seen and heard enough.
Now knifeless and with less than 20/20 vision through all her tears, Linda ran for the front door, tripping and almost falling herself over Voytek and those beastly trunks. As she made her way through the maze and on out to the walkway, the screams of Voytek started up once again and the horrifying sound made her turn on her heels just in time to see Voytek stumble outside.
“Oh God, no, please no! Oh God, No! No! Nooooo!” was all Linda could make out as she bent over and put her hands together in a praying gesture, and said,
“Oh, God, I am sooooo sorry.”
Voytek just silently shook his head at her, tears flowing down his cheeks, his face scrunched up from the searing pain as he fell yet again into the bushes just left of the front porch. Linda just stood there and watched in horror as Voytek grabbed onto the white-washed post to regain his balance and use it to propel himself onto the front lawn, tearing off his purple silk neck scarf as he staggered forward.
Sadie ran out after Voytek and when she made it to the porch, Linda begged,
“Sadie, make it stop. I hear people coming. Please, just make it stop!”.
Sadie with her glassy-eyed stare, replied,
“It’s too late. Just go back to the gate and see if someone is really coming.”
And so she did.
And as Linda ran off into the night, Sadie gleefully went running after Voytek with her upraised, bloody, borrowed Buck knife.
Linda reached the gate but had no intention of stopping there. She climbed back over that hillside and the chain-link fence and down to the old Ford, intent on starting the ignition if not brave enough to drive away.
Back at the house, the “fun” had only just begun…
Tex, still standing in the living room wondering if he should stay with the catatonic Sharon or pursue his foe outside, soon became white-hot with hatred for this man who had broken Charlie’s gun and had made killing such a messy affair. His mind was made up and in his pursuit of Voytek, Tex left a lovely
Standing on the front porch now, Tex saw that Voytek had again escaped the clutches of Sadie and her knife; so Tex dropped the silent approach on this dude, slowly raised the Buntline yet again, took deadly aim, and
he shot Voytek twice in the back, gun smoke rising from that gun for yet a third time in one night. (Seven bullets spent, two more at the ready…I must say, having a nine-shot revolver comes in handy on horror-filled nights of mass murder!)
Voytek instantly fell to the ground but miraculously regained his footing for the third time (living room, bushes, lawn…but who’s counting?) and advanced further onto the lawn before Tex caught up with him, dropping Voytek to the dry grassy ground, like a blood-soaked Quarterback sack on game-day.
(Who knew tackling experience would come in handy as a mass murderer?!)
Tex made sure that this was Voytek’s last stand and, along with Sadie, they stabbed their way into his limp body 51 times, Tex hitting him a total of 13 times on the head with the butt of that Buntline, adding,
a final cowboy boot kick or two to insure that he was as dead as he looked.
“Geez, Tex, he was a toughie, Man! I didn’t think we’d ever get him!” cried Sadie, giggling like she was in the midst of a childhood game of tag, only when you get caught in this game, well, you were CAUGHT!
“Yeah, the Goddamned a—hole! Where’d he think he was goin’ anyhow? And he made me shoot him and break the gun. Jesus! Charlie’s going to be pissed.” said Tex, puffing from all the exertion, his breathing not what it used to be, pre-Charlie, pre-pot, pre-acid, playing for the Copeville, Texas High School football team. And in this game, you got so goddamned sticky!
In the living room, Gibby had managed to break free from Katie’s swings and in an heroic effort to escape and/or seek help, maybe from William, too (Good Luck with that, Gibby!), Gibby ran back through the hall and into Sharon’s bedroom, frantically opening the white shuttered French doors to escape that house of horrors, amazingly dropping only two drops of blood in the hall, one drop at the entrance to the bedroom and a few blood smears on the shutters.
Gibby got out to the pool but in her efforts, the pain from her lower abdominal wounds started to set in and her speed dropped to that of a lurching stumble. She passed the pool, by-passing the Guest House (Probably a good choice, Gibby!), dripping more blood now, on the stone walk way and on the green garden hose coiled up near some bushes, clutching at her stomach, blood flowing out of her gaping wounds and through her fingers as she reached the edge of the lawn, the split-rail fence and the excruciating pain stopping her in her tracks. She crumpled to the parched grass below, her head coming to rest just shy of a storm drain which hadn’t seen water in weeks.
Following the moans and groans of an escaping Gibby, Katie ran after her on the front lawn, pouncing on top of her, straddling her as she plunged her knife into Gibby’s body, stabbing and slashing into her front and back, hitting more bone than flesh, slicing through her left cheek near her mouth, Gibby’s nightgown no longer recognisable as white.
“Stop! I give up. I’m already dead.”, were the last words Abigail Anne “Gibby” Folger would ever speak.
She wasn’t dead yet…but she soon would be…
“Tex, come here! Help me! She’s not dead! She won’t die!” yelled Katie, stabbing relentlessly at Gibby, but still no closer at bringing Gibby to the death that she had already professed.
Tex got up, silently shook his head, took a deep breath and lumbered over to the dying Gibby, his boot-kicking foot throbbing in pain from over-use. As he knelt over the writhing body, Tex barked,
“Go to the back house (Guest House) and kill whoever is there.”
And so she did.
Passing the lit, aquiline-coloured pool, in some kind of blood-soaked, knife-wielding zombie-like state, her long hair all matted and sticky, her knife dripping blood at its point along the way, Katie was intent on carrying out her orders, even if she was lousy at bringing death.
Tex watched Katie go and then went to work on Gibby,
Thwack! Thwack!…Thwack! Thwack!Thwack!…
that 15 inch dual-sided cutlass blade making short work of an otherwise messy and labour-intensive Buck knife beating. Gibby was really dead now, stabbed 28 times, with deep penetrating wound #8 hitting the aorta, being the fatal blow.
Bark! Bark! Bark! Growl! Bark! Bark! Bark! Growl! Bark! Bark!
…was all she heard from the leaping and lunging dogs on the other side of that front door.
Katie wasn’t phased. She loved animals and animals loved her, and as the doorknob turned, Katie entered the galley kitchen, and the dogs fell silent and parted the way for “The Dog Whisperer”. She got as far as the living room entrance, peeked her head around the corner to see the side table lamp lit and no one in the room. She later admitted that she would have killed whoever she had discovered there but the room was empty so out she went, the dogs now licking her sticky hands and sniffing her bloody jeans as she turned the doorknob once more, the inside horizontal handle sticking in the downward position as she closed the door behind her.
Caretaker, William Garretson, aged 19, was conveniently installed in the Guest House closet at that moment, hiding in the dark behind a draped window which overlooked the pool and shielded him NOT from the sights and sounds of that night. He hadn’t bought the Sony Digital AM/FM Radio/Alarm-Clock that his friend, Steven Parent, had just plugged in and demonstrated for him only 40 minutes ago but me thinks he knew his time would be up if he so much as flinched outside of that closet.
He was alive, and would remain so, if even a suspect for several days, an effeminate boy from Ohio who was in Hollywood for adventure, the type which came to him that night made him hoof it back to Ohio, leaving the bright lights to someone far more adventurous than he.
Yeah, he was “stuporous and unresponsive” in the LAPD lie detector test but you trade places with this guy tonight and see how intelligent and responsive you’ll be!
“That makes six, so far.” is what Charlie would have said had he been there…
Sadie, Katie and Tex seemed to finish their outside duties and melted back into the main house and that living room, one right after the other – no planning, no rehearsal – just great timing and no one alive was wearing a watch!
Sadie was the first to return to Sharon, having no one else to kill and no where else to go, and in the few minutes it took for the other two murder-maniacs to return, Sadie had a nice little chat with Sharon, who by now was almost paralysed with fear.
“I don’t want to die. I want to live. I want to have my baby. I want to have my baby.” begged Sharon, in kind of a mumbled, repetitive, shaking delirium.
“Listen Bitch, I don’t care about you. I don’t care about your baby. You’re gonna die so ya better get ready. I don’t feel a thing about it.” was Sadie’s ice-cold response to Sharon’s pleas.
With Katie and then Tex now in attendance, actions were probably taken and words were probably spoken but for three to four minutes, Sharon’s life and the life of her unborn baby boy were hanging in the balance, like so much coastal haze in the valley far below Benedict Canyon.
Sharon was held down on that tan suede couch while at least two killers went to work on her,
Thwack! Slice! Jab!…Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!…Jab! Thwack!…
slashing her left cheek near the mouth and stabbing her 16 times in the chest and back (hardly possible if only one knife is being wielded, me thinks!) , hitting the heart, lungs and liver, causing massive haemorrhage. Little unborn Paul Richard was not stabbed but would have died within 20 minutes after Sharon’s demise, from a lack of oxygen his Mother-To-Be could no longer provide.
Dropping Sharon to the floor, like so much rag doll in a B-rate horror flick, the killers got up off of that tan and now blood–soaked suede couch, stepped over Jay and sashayed around those steamer trunks and out through the front door,
Turning on his heels, Tex looked back at Sadie and remembered why they were there in the first place; (Well, at least he remembered one of the three reasons, anyhoo!)
“Sadie, go back in there and write whatever you guys wrote at Gary’s. Freak out the world; let’em know we were here.” whispered Tex. (Like being quiet now was all of a sudden important and that the bloody bodies splayed all over the place weren’t enough of a calling card…geez!)
- No Paw print was made.
- “PIG” was NOT “Political Piggy”.
- The weapons used were not all similar to the Hinman weapon.
- 5 victims were NOT one victim.
- Hinman had no connection with the Tate victims, none of them having any connection with the Panthers…
…but somehow, all these deaths, and all this mess and the multiple weapons used were to show the “Pigs” that Bobby wasn’t the killer of Gary Hinman after all; that he would be set free and The Family would melt into the Death Valley desert, $1000 richer from Gary’s vehicle “donations” and $2500 richer from Tex’s drug burn with Crowe.
And in that house, and on that desk, was a small lit lamp that gave light to a calendar which had flipped its blood spattered page less than an hour before.
It was around 12:50 a.m., August 9, 1969, and all was dead quiet at 10050 Cielo Drive, all except for the buzzing of flies and the shallow breathing of one very scared 19 year old boy…