Hunted: The Zodiac Murders (The Zodiac Serial Killer Book 1)

by Mark Hewitt

  Then the killer returned.

  Just before midnight on a day in which many Americans had enthusiastically celebrated the founding of their country with boisterous picnics and loud, colorful parades, 22-year-old waitress Darlene Ferrin slowed her brown Corvair and entered the Blue Rock Springs parking lot, just east of Vallejo, and stopped at the low, curving stone wall that marked the back of the lot. The two were only a couple of miles from the spot where Faraday and Jensen had been murdered six and a half months earlier. As she conversed with Michael Mageau, the slender 19-year-old who sat beside her, a mysterious vehicle entered the darkened lot and eased up behind them.

  Believing that a police officer was approaching, the two foraged for identification. The driver stepped out onto the macadam and calmly walked to Ferrin’s passenger window. He carried a large flashlight. Without speaking a word, he began shooting at the couple with a handgun, striking Mageau first, then Ferrin. The attack was sudden and brutal. Michael scrambled into the back seat, his lanky limbs akimbo. He became a moving target. Darlene recoiled as the bullets entered her side. Blood began to pour freely from her wounds.

  The gunman casually headed back toward his car. He was distracted from his departure by the sounds of life—a piercing scream from Mageau. Realizing that his shots had not been entirely successful in his murderous efforts, he returned to the passenger side of the Corvair. Darlene suffered two more rounds; Michael thrashed around in a vain attempt to avoid the two additional bullets fired at him. As the helpless victims bled, their attacker slipped behind the wheel of his car and disappeared into the darkness.

  Though numerous police officers and an ambulance would soon rush to the scene, Darlene would not survive. Michael lived, but would never be the same. He was irreparably damaged, and began his new life with multiple surgeries and a long rehabilitation. Nothing would remove the indelible scars.

  The killer had re-emerged in less than seven months, striking only a few miles away from the Lake Herman Road scene of his previous brutality. It was another shooting attack on another couple in another lover’s lane area. Terror quickly spread, infiltrating every corner of the normally quiet community.

  The City of Vallejo was no stranger to drama. Located on the northeast shore of San Pablo Bay, it was named for General Mariano Guadalupe Vallejo. It was once home to several Native American tribes, until 1843, when along with a much larger area, it was deeded—84,000 acres in all—to General Vallejo, the regional military officer and first land holder. In 1850, the General proposed a new city that would contain state capital buildings, a university, and botanical gardens. Originally slated to be called Eureka, the town’s title was changed to Vallejo, and its present site was chosen for its military and strategic value: the Napa River flowed through the city until it became the Mare Island Strait. It didn’t hurt that on a clear day San Francisco was visible from the hilltop. It was designated the first capital city of California, and drew important officials from near and far. When the general failed to supply adequate facilities—the participants sat on barrels in leaky rooms—the gathering was moved to Sacramento after only 11 days of meetings. Business convened in 1853 only long enough to move the official capital to Benicia, a neighboring village named for General Vallejo’s wife. Once the capital was relocated, the legislature voted to establish the naval shipyard on Mare Island, a partial payment or indemnification for the loss of the business that its presence would have induced. The shipyard served the area until 1996.

  Today, Vallejo, whose motto is “the city of opportunity,” is a bustling, twenty-first century city—the tenth largest by population in the Bay Area, and forty-ninth largest in California—with its own commerce and tourist attractions, such as Six Flags Discovery Kingdom (a large amusement park) and the Mare Island Museum. In 2012, it boasted more than 116,000 people, a population that had held steady for 20 years. Also known as “Valley Joe,” “V-town,” and “the V,” Vallejo made national news in 2008 when it filed for bankruptcy. Burdensome contracts had become unsupportable when the weakening housing market led the nation into severe recession. It was the largest city in California to declare bankruptcy until Stockton followed suit in 2012.

  Vallejo has produced some notable citizens, including major league baseball players, major league basketball players, major league football players, actor Raymond Burr, and numerous rap musicians. The 1970 census measured the population at 66,733. Despite its diminutive size at the time, it would forever be remembered as ground zero for the attacks of the Zodiac serial killer, even though December 20, 1968 and July 4, 1969 murders were not the killer’s first, even though he would not return to attack in Vallejo, and even though the murders occurred before the killer adopted his infamous moniker.

  The citizens of Vallejo responded to the unprovoked attack:

  At 12:10 a.m., a woman telephoned the offices of the Vallejo Police Department (VPD) to report that two juveniles were being shot. Nancy Slover, the on-duty dispatcher, VPD #355, took the information, later describing the caller as an agitated and excited Caucasian female in her late teens. The report was passed on to the radio operator on duty, who Slover later recalled as being unsure of which unit to send to the scene. All of the patrolling officers were currently on assignment.

  Also at 12:10 a.m., Officer Richard Hoffman of the VPD, a young assignee to Juvenile Detention, dressed in plain clothes and riding unit #130, received a radio call alerting him that two teenagers were being shot at the Blue Rock Springs Park, to the east of downtown Vallejo.

  He had just driven through the popular parking lot in his unmarked vehicle at approximately 11:55 p.m., a mere 15 minutes before being summoned—or was it “30 minutes or so” prior to the call as Hoffman maintained many years later?—and had seen no cars or people. The park had been closed and there were no young people fighting or drinking as he suspected there might have been on the warm and sultry Fourth of July evening. He headed back to the park, following closely behind unit #119, which had also been notified of the assault.

  Blue Rock Springs Park, so named because of the famous sulfur springs that turned rock formations an attractive blue, was a popular park by day, just as it continues to be into the twenty-first century. It was frequently bustling with activity. Families would grill meat and engage in relaxed summertime recline, or play on its green lawns. After dusk, it became a popular lover’s lane. With few inhabitants around the barren parking lot, in a region that had not originally been incorporated into the City of Vallejo, it made an attractive, secluded rendezvous for young lovers. VPD Sergeant George Bawart claimed that often there would be four or five cars parked quietly in the dark.

  Unit #119, VPD Officers Meyring and Lindemann, while en route to the Blue Rock Springs Park, observed a gray, 4-door 1963 hardtop Cadillac with a California license, CXB-890, approaching from the direction of the park. The car was only traveling at 20 miles per hour, as if it were stealthily attempting to creep away from a shameful act. Thinking that its occupants may be involved in the shooting, or as witnesses to a crime at the very least, the officers made a U-turn on Columbus Parkway, just east of the Blue Rock Springs Golf Course, and pulled over the car. A man named Andy emerged from behind the driver’s wheel. He was immediately recognized by Hoffman as the young officer drove past. Unit #119 continued the stop by demanding identification from the Cadillac’s occupants.

  Nineteen-year-old Andy dug for his driver’s license. He asked the officers, “Is this about the guy laying down back there?” In what was certain to raise suspicions, he had been at the scene of a shooting, noticed Mageau stretched out on the ground writhing around in agony, and had departed without offering aid.

  The officers carefully searched the Cadillac, and though no weapons were found, Andy and his 19-year-old passenger, Betty, were eventually booked on suspicion of murder. The young couple was turned over to Sergeant Kenneth Odiorne and taken in for questioning; the Cadillac was impounded and transported to the VPD by Bob’s Tow Service. Andy and Betty
would suffer the distinction of being the only two people ever arrested for any of the crimes committed by the serial killer later known as the “Zodiac.”

  While Unit #119 tended to the Cadillac, Hoffman continued on to Blue Rock Springs Park, thus becoming the first officer on the scene. Hoffman took note of what he saw as he entered the parking lot: Ferrin’s car, a brown, 2-door, 1963 Chevrolet Corvair Coupe, with its head and taillights on and its left turn signal flashing, front and back. Drawing nearer, he realized that the Corvair’s motor was not running. The ignition was in the on position and the transmission was in first gear with no hand brake engaged. The radio was softly playing popular music, an ill-suited requiem. The passenger door was agape. Mageau lay in anguish on his back outside the door. He was perpendicular to the car, gesturing for assistance. He was “shot to pieces,” the officer would later recall.

  Ferrin’s coupe, with Mageau beside it, sat in the park’s main parking area, less than 100 feet from Columbus Parkway. Blood was gushing from Mageau’s mouth. He had also been shot in the neck and chest. A wound was apparent on his left lower leg. He was moaning in great pain. Looking through the open passenger-side window, Hoffman, aided by a flashlight, observed Ferrin in her blue and white slack-dress slumped away from him against the driver’s side door. He could see from that angle that she had incurred three gunshot wounds, two on her upper left arm and one on her right side a few inches below her armpit. A copious amount of blood spatter dotted the car’s interior. Darlene’s breathing was weak and shallow. She attempted to say something like, “I” or “my,” but there was only unintelligible mumbling. A few minutes later, Hoffman checked for a pulse, but couldn’t detect one. VPD Sergeant Conway arrived next. He viewed the crime scene and called for an ambulance and an investigator. He was then sent by Hoffman to provide aid to Unit #119: to tell the officers to detain the gray Cadillac, place a hold on its occupants on suspicion of felony, and search the vehicle. Conway returned within a few minutes. He approached Mageau as Hoffman tended Ferrin. Attempting to question Mageau, who was obviously in a great deal of pain, he could only determine that the unknown assailant who had not spoken to his victims was a young, Caucasian male, driving a brown vehicle, alone. This description was quickly relayed to all units.

  When VPD Officer Doug Clark arrived—he had been on patrol and had heard the 12:10 a.m. radio call—he attempted to administer first aid to the victims until the ambulance arrived, assisting Hoffman and Conway. The spot where Mageau lay was outlined for future reference. VPD Detective Sergeants Edward “Ed” Rust and John Lynch and Sergeant Odiorne entered the scene before the ambulance.

  Rust had also heard the first radio call at 12:10 a.m. He had asked his partner, Lynch, the older detective of the plain-clothed pair, whether they should respond. Lynch thought it was a concern over mere fireworks, and suggested that they ignore the news. A few minutes later, when a second call confirmed the initial report, Rust, who had been steering the unmarked car that general direction, made haste to the park.

  After Conway briefed the officers present, the investigation was assigned to Rust and Lynch. Rust took the opportunity to circle the victim’s car and peer into the driver’s side window, which was, like the passenger window, also rolled down. Many years later, the earnest detective recalled that he could see Ferrin’s blue eyes through the narrow slits of her “flickering” eyelids, as though she were trying to open her eyes. (One police report listed Ferrin’s eyes as “green,” probably confusing them with Mageau’s green eyes.) He felt her weak pulse as he asked her what had happened. Only mumbling or a moaning sound could be heard: he could distinguish no real words. As he struggled to hear her, she passed out. He circled the car to check on Mageau and then returned to Ferrin, who was still unconscious. Her breathing was shallow. He again checked her pulse, and again found it weak.

  When the Solano ambulance finally arrived, Ferrin was placed in the back, followed by Mageau. The two gunshot victims were rushed to Kaiser Hospital in downtown Vallejo.

  Hoffman rode along to gather information, though neither victim spoke during the trip. As an ambulance attendant administered CPR to Ferrin, Hoffman noticed that a small piece of material in the victim’s brassier fluttered with each breath she received, alerting him to the fragility of her health. One or more bullets had perforated her lungs; her condition was grave.

  As the ambulance hurried away from the scene, Rust peered into the back seat of the blood-bedashed vehicle and discovered Darlene’s black and green handbag, a quilt-pattern leather drawstring purse, behind the driver’s seat. It held a mere thirteen cents. He rustled for her driver’s license in an effort to identify her.

  In the inside door panel next to where Darlene had sat, he noticed a bullet hole, one-half to one inch in diameter. He would later order VPD ID Technician John Sparks to dig for a slug. He found papers in the glove compartment. Because the car was registered to J. Ferrin of 930 Monterey Street, the female victim was incorrectly identified in the newspaper the next day as J. Ferrin.

  Hoffman had earlier placed Mageau’s wallet on the back right fender after he had identified the male victim. Rust later deposited the purse and wallet in room 28 at the Vallejo Police Station. On July 7, Lynch passed the purse with its contents—some personal papers and thirteen cents—to Deputy Coroner Bill Braker.

  In an initial search of the parking lot crime scene, Hoffman collected seven empty brass shell casings, all found on the right side, within a few feet of the victims’ vehicle. Rust located two additional casings on the right rear floorboard of the car. He noticed a misshapen copper-jacketed slug that fell from Mageau as he was moved. It was not bloody and had no skin on it. The place from where it had been recovered—on the ground where Mageau’s back had been—similarly had no blood. Two additional slugs were recovered from inside the Corvair, one in the driver’s side door panel and one on the seat after Ferrin was removed. From inscriptions and marks on the base of the casings, the bullets were identified as Winchester Western 9mm Luger (parabellum) rounds ejected from a semi-automatic pistol. All shell casings and slugs were retained and placed into evidence.

  There was some confusion over the exact number of shots fired. One or more of the bullets may have struck both victims, or there were shots that the police could not account for from Mageau’s testimony and the nine shell casings collected. A police report speculated that at least one casing may have been removed from the scene by the killer, possibly unintentionally. There were a total of nine shots that the investigators could account for, but the assailant may have fired more than that. Eight bullets were eventually recovered.

  Rust traveled to the hospital. He found Hoffman, who was assigned to conduct an interview with Mageau if at all possible. But the patient would not be made available for more than a day and a half, surgery and pain management placing higher on the hospital’s list of priorities than investigation.

  At the scene, Odiorne called for a tow truck to spirit Ferrin’s car to the Vallejo Police Station. Prior to the vehicle’s removal, ID Technician John Sparks—who had been detailed at 2:00 a.m. by Lieutenant Allbrighton to search the scene, dust for prints, and take photos—captured a total of nine photographs of the car’s interior and exterior to be developed later. He considered dusting the car for prints at the scene, but decided that it would be preferable to do this part of his job in the protected confines of the department building. He followed as the tow truck made its way to the Police Station, ensuring that no one tampered with the evidence.

  The ambulance reached the hospital at 38 minutes past midnight. Dr. Bordy declared Ferrin dead on arrival (DOA) from catastrophic internal injuries and a fatal loss of blood. The murder became VPD case #243146.

  At 1:15 a.m., Odiorne entered the Vallejo Police Station to interview three teenagers who had stumbled upon the crime scene and had alerted the police. The youths told their story, and then each provided a written statement.

  Lynch sped to the hospital, spoke to Dr. Bordy,
and at 3:30 a.m. proceeded with Sparks to Twin Chapel Funeral Home, where Ferrin’s body had been transported, to continue gathering evidence. Sparks captured a total of six photographs of Ferrin’s remains. Coroner Dan Horan handed Ferrin’s blood-stained clothing to Lynch—one pair of blue shoes, one blue-and-white flowered slack dress, one pair of white panties, and one white brassier—to be tagged and placed into the evidence locker.

  The short, scabrous life of Darlene Ferrin had reached its conclusion.

  In life, Darlene was a petite, blonde-haired extrovert. At a mere five feet, four inches and 128 pounds, her warmth toward others far outsized her stature. Born Darlene Elizabeth Suennen in Oakland, California on March 17, 1947, she at times had a strained relationship with her family members, which included four sisters and two brothers. But she never lacked for companionship. She had little patience for theories and concepts. Darlene’s world was people, and she knew many. Her antennae to her environment were her relationships. She navigated the emotions and drama with comfort and ease. Because she was so sociable and friendly, she attracted a wide circle of friends and acquaintances. Many craved her upbeat friendship and enthusiastic attention. When she was with women, she frequently ended up at the Coronado Inn. She often took men to the Blue Rock Springs Park.

  Only 22, she had the responsibilities of a much more seasoned adult pulling at her from all directions. She juggled these as best she could, but if she could not keep up with all of the needs of others, her attitude remained, oh well; that’s life. Ferrin shouldered the weight of many demands in her short life, but seemed to wear them as an ill-fitting dress. She bore them willingly, but never very well. She was a sister, a wife, a daughter, a mother to a young child, and an employee. Still, she found time to spend with friends—many friends. Already on her second marriage, she nevertheless felt the pull of fun and the carefree lifestyle. She hung out with girlfriends when she could. She socialized with men outside of her marriage—many men—and this caused her problems. Dean, her husband, learned about many of his wife’s liaisons at his job as an assistant cook at a restaurant named Caesar’s Palace, his wife’s “friendliness” the fodder for concern if not ribbing.