August 9, 1969 - Tate End (For Real This Time)

Within a couple hours, dawn shone on Spahn Ranch and Cielo Drive.

The day was bright and sunny, not a cloud in the sky.

At Spahn, birds merrily chirped, soaring above in the desert breeze.

At Cielo, blue-bottle flies busily buzzed over the blood-caked corpses. One investigator said as much. The crime scene was so eerily quiet, save for the incessant buzzing. It would be 90-plus degrees in the shade that day.

At the ranch, Charlie slept the sleep of the remorseless, spooning Stephanie, in ranch hand Juan Flynn's trailer parked next to the road. By this time, Flynn had left town.

In the back-house, Squeaky leaned over and whispered, "Hey, Katie, Katie, wake up. Bring Sadie and Barbie with ya. Come to the TV room. You have got to see this!" Squeaky was careful not to wake the other Family members sleeping the sleep of the innocent and unknowing.

Several members headed to George Spahn's trailer to gather around his TV set to watch the news. They had never cared about watching the news before. On this morning, they were awe-struck at the aerial images and live feeds coming from a swanky place in Benedict Canyon.

Squeaky, now well aware of the past night's events, was still in awe of the images which flickered on the screen. The copycat fantasy was now a reality for people "in the know" at the ranch.

All the hubbub at George's house eventually woke up Charlie and Stephanie. Charlie sauntered into the room, his arm around Stephanie. Sandy kneeled in front and flicked from channel to channel to get every minute of the newly coined "Tate slaughter."

No one in the cramped space seemed very phased by the unfolding events. Heck, some laughed out loud when the newscaster reported that the LAPD had someone in custody for the killings. Finally, Charlie's Slippies had done something right!

Barbara Hoyt watched the telecast on Swartz's trailer TV. She wasn't laughing. She wasn't even smiling. Now she knew what that back-house call for dark clothes meant the night before. Barbara sat and watched and unconsciously held her breath out of abject fear.

Most there sat riveted to the screen. Some were elated by the horrors in Benedict Canyon. Others wanted to forget and escaped the reality via acid-filled trips of their very own. (Yeah, Katie, I'm talking about you!)

As the day wore on, fewer people were glued to the TVs. And people who should have been were not at all. Charlie, Tex, and Sadie did what unfeeling strung-out killers do — they got high. Why watch telecasts of scenes you've created yourself? Old news, man. Old news.

The day finally flowed into night. Once another helping of the Garbage-Bin Goulash was gobbled, and the after-dinner pot puffed, Charlie once again rounded up his posse. This time, to the bunkhouse, for a class, Murder 101. The Family killers would be taught a few lessons that obviously were not known à la Tate crime scene.

The killer kids later stated they had no idea what would transpire on that second night until they were once again in Swartz's Ford. What turnip truck did they think we fell off of, anyway?

"I seen what you guys done last night," said Charlie, standing front and center in front of his rapt crowd. "Tex, that was way too messy, and you put too much panic in these people. Sure, Pigs need to die, but you're letting bad karma fall down on all of us when you torture these souls. You need to kill 'em, but you don't need to advertise. Didn't I tell you? Nice 'n' easy."

Tex plead his case. "Yeah, I remember what you said. But Hell, Charlie, it was that damn rope idea that got us into trouble. Before Sadie and me tried to string 'em up, they was pretty calm. And Sadie wouldn't have lost her knife if it weren't for that rope trick. That's what got us into trouble, Soul."

"I feel ya, man. Too much to do with only one guy. That was my fault. Tonight, we're going out again, but with more men. And Sadie, I swear. You lose another knife and I'll…"

"No, no, I won't, Charlie. I promise," said Sadie.

Others in the room stifled snickers and rolled their eyes.

"Tonight, no ropes, just killin' Pigs for their dough. And this time, get more than a lousy few bucks. Hell, people like this have shit loads of cash. Make sure you get it all this time. If you guys did a better job shakin' down that place, we wouldn't have to be goin' out again. It's money and dead Pigs, and that's all. I'm comin' along to make sure no panic or screw-ups. Tonight, I'll show you how to do it."

Charlie shooed the girls out of the bunk house and walked over to the gun room to teach Weaponry 101 to the men.

Weapons were specifically selected so crazy Sadie, or some other dumb broad, wouldn't lose them mid-bloodstream. Although none of the people who went out that second night ever admitted having put them there, a bayonet and two smaller fixed-bladed knives were placed on the Ford's front floorboard. Charlie put "something" in his belt he later admitted was an unidentified gun.

The dark clothes were donned once again by all who were made to attend — Tex, Sadie, Katie, Linda, and Leslie — all except for Clem who sported an olive-drab field jacket, and Charlie in his beloved leather tunic and pants, newly gained from a Crowe cohort. Charlie wouldn't be doing the killing, right? So why would he need dark clothes?

Charlie gave the killer kids a "light" dose of acid before they headed out. Not too much to impede their killing skills but enough to make them feel invincible.

And after several fits and starts at Manson Murder Incorporated, the hap-hazard group arrived at 3301 Waverly Drive, a residential property beside Griffith Park in the Los Feliz district, sometime around 2 a.m., August 10, 1969.

Night two of a two-day murder mêlée.