2nd Official Tate-LaBianca Murders Blog

    UPDATE : As per the Autopsy Reports from the LA County Coroner’s Office and the LAPD Initial Progress Report, Deputy Coroner John Finken was in charge of removing and bagging all personal property on and around the victims’ bodies found at the Tate crime scene on Cielo Drive, August 9, 1969. Dr. Finken arrived on site at approximately 1 pm and began his work on the first body, John Doe #85 (as the identity of Steve Parent was not yet known). He bagged one Lucerne wristwatch, which was found in the backseat of the Rambler and a WALLET which held various papers, $9 in cash but no ID. He then took the liver temperature of the victim, the ambient temperature inside and outside the Rambler and bagged the victim’s hands for possible trace evidence before he moved on to the next victim. Linda is full of s---! She did NOT enter that Rambler after Parent was killed. Nobody did. All that was done after Tex shot this boy was that Tex reached in to the open driver’s side window, shut o

I was going to wait until the U.S. premiere of the made-for-TV, 40th anniversary special, “Manson: 40 years Later” to air before publishing my diatribe take on the show…but peoples’ tongues are already wagging with opinions less than based on fact and more than based on personal perceptions. Yeah, I know; that’s what blogs are for, but if you have a large following of people who know little about the subject and bloggers say that the world is flat, then those followers are apt to travel to the edge to see if they will fall off… And a popular following website doe not always correlate to a fact-based version of events… I will not deny that several “facts” given in Linda Kasabian-Christian’s version of events of the Manson Murders are either, a) brand new facts finally revealed, or b) embellishments of her story for TV ratings, or c) a warped  memory due to aging and years gone by. Regardless, these new points should be properly examined in the light of day, solely again

"You can't put your arms around a memory. Don't try." The Late, Great Johnny Thunders You Can't Put Your Arms Around A Memory "One day while I was not at home, while she was there and all alone, the angels came. Now all I have is memories of Honey, and I wake up nights, and call her name". Bobby Goldsboro Honey So,...I'm sittin' in my orange velveteen chair...eatin' Starbucks espresso truffles and watchin' "H.R. Pufenstuff",...via my ipod,...when I began to muse about the sorry state of Leno Labianca's finances. "Leno Labianca" (That's a funny name. You know you want to say it out loud....go ahead....I'll wait.) Anyway,...I'm sittin' there thinkin' about his finances, right? I mean, just how does a person own nine racehorses...and nobody knows about them? What kinda freakin' screwed up

Thrown like a star in my vast sleep I'm opening my eyes to take a peep To find that I was by the sea Gazing at tranquility 'Twas then when the hurdy gurdy man Came singing songs of love... Histories of ages past Unenlightened shadows cast Down through all eternity The crying of humanity 'Tis then when the hurdy gurdy man Come singing songs of love Then when the hurdy gurdy man Come singing songs of love... Hurdy Gurdy Man by Donovan in 1968 Another Chatsworth dawn broke, another sun-soaked, sand and sagebrush strewn day was at hand… A day like any other day, Man…just like any other… The  transistor radio in the saloon was playing “Hurdy Gurdy Man” when Sadie flicked it on, go-go dancing in the middle of the room while everybody else was sleeping. It was never too early for a party in old Sadie’s head….

  The Garbage-Bin Goulash was eaten yet again and the kids had all gone their separate ways – some down to the creek, others inside the caves – smoking their allotted pot, to chill for the evening as the sun went down. Not everyone in The Family was relaxing this evening though… As the workday at Spahn’s ranch died down, Charlie and Clem sauntered over to the barn to see Shorty before he left for the day. “Hey Shorty, Man, we never see ya. How come you don’t wanna party with us no more?” asked Charlie, his hand on Shorty’s shoulder, smiling from one ear to the next. “Hey Charlie, listen, I just do my job and go home. I got a wife now, you know. Any partying is done with her now. What do you care anyways? You got all them kids to party with.” said Shorty, as he shovelled the last of the horse manure into a wheel-barrow, his final chore before heading home. “Well Hell Shorty, come sit with us a spell at the camp-fire. We got some good weed that I nabbed from my friends up near Sant

Nights in Susana Pass are unbelievably dark, coffin black really, usually filled with whipping tunnel winds thru the valley. But tonight there was no wind at all - the chirping cicadas even taking the night off - and the valley around Spahn’s ranch was so still you swore that you could hear the panting breath of coyotes as they howled into the night. Even Barbara Hoyt noticed how deathly quiet the night was. And it was a welcome experience. As Barb climbed into her sleeping bag, she prayed that this silence was ushering in an end to the nightmares she had been having since she knew of the complicity of The Family in the the Tate-LaBianca murders. Maybe this is the calm after the storm, she thought to herself. As she rested her head on a blue lined, down pillow void of any pillow-case, ear-piercing sounds suddenly split her relaxation in two…sounds that she will never forget as long as she lives… Further down Susana Pass road… The truck and trailer finally arrived at the spot

THE SECOND COMING Turning and turning in the widening gyre The falcon cannot hear the falconer Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere The ceremony of innocence is drowned The best lack all conviction, while the worst Are full of passionate intensity Surely some revelation is at hand Surely the Second Coming is at hand… And what rough beast, its hour come round at last, Slouches toward Bethlehem to be born? William Butler Yeats (1865-1939) The House on the Hill, as I’d like to refer to the LaBianca residence, was very still that night, despite the curtains being wide open and a light on in the living room. It was some time after 2a.m. The day previous included a long two and a half drive, with Leno, Rosemary and her daughter Suzan returning to Los Angeles in Leno’s 1968 Ford Thunderbird, a pleasure b