by Mark Hewitt
The San Francisco newspapers reported on the apparent robbery. The take: one fare of less than $5 for a total haul of between $10 and $11. Also stolen were Stine’s wallet with all of his identification and the keys to the cab. The meter was left running.
Stine’s death was reported by the police at 10:11 p.m., according to the City of San Francisco’s death record. The City was notified at 10:28 p.m. The time of death was set at 10:00 p.m., though Stine probably died a couple of minutes earlier. Subsequent investigation placed the time closer to 9:55 p.m. The SFPD notified Stine’s next of kin—specifically his wife, Claudia—by telephone at 1:20 a.m., the identity of the driver having been confirmed by Michael S. Conway. The body was photographed and the deceased’s fingerprints were taken. These prints, preserved to compare with, and possibly eliminate, any prints that would be lifted from the interior or exterior of the cab, were forwarded to the CII of the California Department of Justice in Sacramento. The investigation into what appeared to be a routine robbery began with careful attention to protocol.
Investigators retrieved a pair of men’s black leather gloves, size 7, from the interior of the cab. It remains unclear to this day whether these were worn by the assailant (who may then have felt the need to wipe away his fingerprints from the cab once he had taken the gloves off), were left by the killer as a red herring to indicate a hand size different than his own, or were deposited by someone else and had nothing to do with the murder whatsoever. Like the mysterious wristwatch with the broken strap recovered at the Bates crime scene three years earlier, these curious pieces of evidence provided more questions than answers. And, like the peculiar series of murders, they offered more possibilities than solutions.
The subsequent investigation identified the murder weapon as a 9mm semi-automatic, possibly a new model of Browning. The slug removed from Stine’s brain and the shell casing recovered from the cab once comprised a 9mm Winchester Western cartridge. The Chronicle mistakenly identified the caliber of the bullet that was fired as a .38.
In time, Dr. John C. Lee, MD conducted the autopsy. He noted that Stine’s clothing included underwear, shoes, socks, shirts, pants, and jacket, much of the clothing still smeared with blood. The cause of death was obvious: a gunshot to the head with massive blood loss. An entry wound was apparent in the front of the right ear. Black marks were observed on the upper surface of the wound, indicating that the cabby had been shot at contact range.
Stine’s stature in death was five feet nine inches tall and 180 pounds. The coroner recorded his dark features, including brown eyes and brown hair. His blood alcohol level measured 0.02%, well within the legal limit to drive, but possibly a sign of irresponsibility for a professional driver. In death, Stine was exposed for consuming a beer, a glass of wine, or a cocktail prior to going on duty. But only one.
The Coroner’s Office released the remains on Monday, at 11:24 in the morning. Stine’s body was cremated less than 24 hours later with appropriate Protestant obsequy. Paul Lee Stine, born December 18, 1939, had died as the result of a homicide on October 11 at approximately 10:00 p.m. The 29-year-old’s Social Security number, SS 572 50 3862, was retired; his wife, Claudia, would never again feel the warmth of his embrace; his doctoral studies would remain unfinished.
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SFPD Patrol Officer Armond Pelissetti, badge #1879, along with his partner for the evening, SFPD Patrol Officer Frank Peda, #212, the first officers to the crime scene, arrived at 9:58 p.m. In response to the telephone call from the 16-year-old witness, they had been radioed by dispatch and notified that a cab driver had been robbed and/or possibly assaulted. With the patrol car’s flashing lights and siren’s wail, they made their way promptly to the scene, ready to provide order, save a life, catch a criminal, or do whatever else their services required. Pelissetti parked his patrol vehicle in the middle of the intersection at Washington and Cherry Streets facing the cab—an aggressive posture meant to take control of the situation—and jumped out from behind the wheel. As the three teenagers cautiously ventured into the street toward the silent cab, approaching as close as 15 or 16 feet, he quickly herded them back to the alcove of what he correctly assumed was the mansion they had exited. He meant to both preserve the scene of the crime and protect their lives from an assailant who may have still been lurking in the vicinity.
Pelissetti reviewed the teenagers’ statements with them. They reiterated that they had seen the passenger sitting in the front seat of the cab—in his words, “mid to passenger side”—with the motionless driver slumped partially over in his lap, while he apparently searched the pockets of the victim. It was an obvious criminal attack, though the witnesses never heard the gunshot. To the youths, the passenger appeared to be wiping the dashboard with a cloth—possibly a handkerchief—as he leaned over to the driver’s compartment. The assailant, according to the youths, exited the vehicle from the passenger side front door, then circled the cab as he continued to wipe it down. After he had attended to the driver’s side front door, he reached back into the cab, then fled walking north on Cherry Street, toward the Presidio military grounds and out of their wide-eyed view.
The excellent look that the killer had given the youths prompted the investigation to assign a police artist to sit down with them and create a composite drawing of what they had seen. A picture of the assailant was released on October 13, two days following the attack. Its details would be challenged almost immediately, requiring an alternate, possibly more accurate, version to be drawn.
Once he was sure the youths were safe and the cab secure, Pelissetti crossed the street to view the grisly crime scene with Peda. The officers peered inside the 1968 Ford Custom to which Stine had been assigned, and found the victim slumped over the front seat with his upper torso on the passenger side and his head resting on the floor board, facing north. The death notice at the City of San Francisco would describe the body as lying in a “semi-supine” position. There was gore everywhere. Pelissetti later described the scene: “The car was full of blood.”
Pelissetti immediately called for an ambulance—a code 3 signifying an emergency that required lights and siren, though the officers were fairly sure that Stine was beyond medical attention (“99.9[%] certain he was dead,” Pelissetti would later recall)—and summoned other law enforcement agents for an immediate search of the area.
The officers took a description of the assailant from the teenagers, noting that the witnesses had observed across a clear line of view from a distance of about 50 feet, and passed this on to dispatch, which in turn broadcast it. The initial reports had stated that the robber was a “Negro Male Adult” (NMA). Either the youths had incorrectly described what they had seen or the dispatcher had not heard them correctly. However the miscommunication occurred, Pelissetti raced to the radio (years later he would describe his rush, “I couldn’t get to the radio fast enough”) to let everyone else know that the perpetrator was Caucasian, and not Black.
Inspector Walt Kracke of the Homicide Division arrived at the crime scene, followed 5 or 10 minutes later by SFPD Detectives Dave Toschi and Bill Armstrong. Toschi had been called at home, Police Operations telling him at 10:25 p.m. that a Yellow Cab driver had been shot to death. Pelissetti briefed Toschi because it appeared that the latter was taking the lead in the case. He assured the detective that no one had contaminated the scene.
Starting that night, Toschi skillfully marshaled the SFPD forces in a quest for a killer that would cost him great personal and professional frustration, nearly a decade of his life, and not a little shame and embarrassment when he was removed from the case under a cloud of suspicion nine years later.
David Ramon Toschi, born July 11, 1931, was no stranger to publicity when he took command of the investigation into Stine’s murder. He was both colorful and charismatic, serving the SFPD as an officer from 1952 to 1983. As actor Steve McQueen prepared for his role as the indubitably cool but rogue police lieutenant Frank Bullitt in the movie Bullitt, he copied Toschi’s trade
mark style of wearing the shoulder holster for his Colt Cobra upside down (with the barrel of the pistol pointing up, not back) for easy access. Toschi’s improvisation became part of the veteran performer’s image. In 1971, Clint Eastwood portrayed “Dirty” Harry Callahan, a character in the movie Dirty Harry based loosely on Toschi. Four sequels would follow. Years later, Mark Ruffalo played the detective in the 2007 movie Zodiac, based on Robert Graysmith’s 1986 book of the same name.
Toschi’s fall from grace happened unceremoniously when he was demoted to pawn-shop detail at 4:00 p.m. on June 29, 1978 after it was revealed that he had sent fan letters of support, signed with pseudonyms, regarding a comic strip that featured him as a character. His superiors had concluded that he was more interested in his own publicity and perpetuating his likeness in the comic strip than the job at hand. He was also suspected of being the creator of a dubious 1978 Zodiac letter, a possible act of self-promotion or an effort to revive a flagging case. Following his retirement from the SFPD in 1983, Toschi found work as a security guard.
Shortly after the reports of the murder reached the SFPD, they notified the Military Police Headquarters of the Presidio, informing them that a killer was on the loose and may have fled into its jurisdiction.
The Presidio of San Francisco, or simply “the Presidio,” was originally named El Presidio Real de San Francisco, which translates to “The Royal Fortress of San Francisco.” Built in 1776, the former military base is now a 1480-acre park. It was established by New Spain, passed on to Mexico, and then to the United States of America in 1848. When in 1989 Congress elected to end the property’s status as an active military base, it had been garrisoned continuously for 210 years. It was transferred to the National Park Service in 1994. Today the Presidio comprises a mix of public and commercial uses, and is governed by a Trust which has kept the land financially self-sufficient since 2005. It was designated a California Historical Landmark in 1933. By the time that Stine was attacked, it had only been listed as a National Historic Landmark for seven years, and been added to the U.S. National Register of Historic Places for less than three years. It would forever be linked to the murder of Paul Stine and the Zodiac serial killer after the murderer fled toward its grounds.
When ambulance #82 arrived, Steward Dousette examined Stine and pronounced him dead at 10:10 p.m. Inspector Kracke summoned canine units and a fire department spotlight vehicle to assist in the search for the perpetrator of this horrendous deed. The city’s entire stable of dogs—seven units in total—was pressed into service. With the emergency notifications out of the way, the officers made the next set of calls intended to handle the scene in a professional manner: they notified the crime lab, the coroner, Yellow Cab officials, and a tow truck company. LeRoy Sweet, the Assistant Traffic Manager of the Yellow Cab Company, responded and provided the victim’s name, “Paul Lee Stine,” and the initial victim identification. He further mentioned that Stine had begun work at 8:45 p.m., and that the last dispatch given to him was at 9:45 p.m., a call for a ride from 500 9th Avenue, Apt 1, the unanswered fare reassigned to another cab at 9:58 p.m. The only other ride that Stine had driven that evening, Sweet reported, was a trip from Pier 64 to the San Francisco International Airport.
Pelissetti’s report listed the victim incorrectly as Thomas L. Stine. This was later amended to the correct name, Paul L. Stine, but not before The San Francisco Chronicle reporter received the inaccurate name, the dead cabby identified as T. L. Stine in its Sunday paper, its first issue following the attack.
Once assembled, the police conducted “an intense search,” according to the police, of the Julius Kahn Playground, the location to which the perpetrator was last seen heading, located on the south side of the Presidio grounds and adjacent to the Presidio Heights district, as well as the grounds themselves. They were assisted by the seven canine units. Also participating were additional officers from the Richmond district and several CHP units. The quest uncovered nothing. SFPD Chief of Inspectors Marvin Lee commented on the officers’ thoroughness, “A mouse couldn’t have escaped our attention.” Sergeant Falk and Lieutenant Kiel were two among many lawmen who aided the efforts.
Nearly an hour after his arrival at the scene, Pelissetti observed that the meter in the cab was still running. He recorded that the cost of the ride had reached $6.25 at exactly 10:46 p.m., in case the information would later be needed to determine a time of death, or in some way flesh out the timeline details.
His report described the killer as a white male in his early 40s, and five feet eight inches tall with a heavy build. He had reddish-blond hair worn in a crewcut. He was wearing eyeglasses, dark brown trousers, a dark blue or black “parka” jacket, and dark-colored shoes. He further should have many blood stains on his person and clothing, and could be in possession of keys to the Yellow Cab as well as the victim’s wallet. Last seen, as far as Pelissetti was aware, walking north on Cherry Street, the assailant was to be considered armed and extremely dangerous.
Dr. Henry W. Turkel, MD, a physician acting as coroner, responded to the crime. Officers Schultz and Kindred took charge of the deceased. The SFPD Crime Lab representatives, named Dagitz and Kirkindale, arrived and took photographs of the scene. All of the physical evidence that had been gathered was retained by the crime lab for identification purposes. Once the photography was complete, the automobile, Yellow Cab #912, license plate Y17-413, was towed to the Hall of Justice, and impounded for the SFPD Homicide Department to scour for latent fingerprints.
Detective Bill Armstrong notified his office at SFPD, Room 100, of the attack, and provided the officers with a description of the assailant, advising that it should be broadcast to patrolling officers continuously throughout the evening. The initial reports of the crime lab’s investigation disclosed that the victim had no U.S. currency in his possession, no wallet, and no ignition key. The assailant must have taken these. A complete inventory of items removed from the scene was not yet available because all of the victim’s property was in the possession of the coroner. Stine’s belongings were later received by Michael S. Conway, as authorized by Stine’s wife. The cabby’s clothing was placed in SFPD box 570 by property custodian M. O’Malley.
***
Pelissetti and Peda were not the only policemen to respond in the initial minutes following the shooting. SFPD Patrol Officer Donald Fouke, #847, watched over the eastern side of the Richmond District, east of the Presidio, when he was summoned to the crime scene by the original broadcast of a robbery in progress. His usual partner was not working that night, though years later Fouke could not recall the reason that he was assigned instead to SFPD Patrol Officer Eric Zelms, #1348, his teammate for the evening. Because they were heading north on Presidio Avenue, and had just passed Washington Street, they were able to make a quick U-turn and hurry west to the scene.
As they approached the intersection of Jackson Street and Maple Street, moving at an estimated speed of 40 to 45 miles per hour west on Jackson, Fouke noticed a man walking east on the north side of Jackson Street. He slowed his vehicle. The pedestrian was a Caucasian and not “Negro” as the broadcast had described the gunman. They did not think that the man they observed was responsible for the attack on the cabby. Fouke considered him merely a white man walking in an affluent neighborhood, which was nothing out of the ordinary. He sped past to arrive at the crime scene as quickly as possible, just around the corner to the left. He later reported that the man went east on Jackson and north on Maple, heading into the Presidio grounds. With its four foot drop in elevation, and limited road access, the grounds was a great escape location for a traveler on foot, especially when pursued by a vehicle.
Recalling what he saw years later, Fouke described the pedestrian. He wore a three-quarter length or Derby Jacket (a fashion icon native to San Francisco), with elastic at the waist and the cuffs. The collar was turned down as it usually is on this type of coat. He had a crew-cut haircut, and wore rust-colored pants which were unusual at the time, since they wer
e older and out of fashion. His feet were clad in engineering boots that were tan and possibly low cut. Fouke also believed that he had seen the man’s eyes, but could not recall a color. He believed that the man had bowed his head down when confronted by the headlights of the police car. He may have been the killer avoiding police contact, or simply a pedestrian reacting to the bright light.
Fouke noted that the pedestrian walked with a “lumbering gait, stumbling along like a semi-limp.” On seeing the man, he slowed the car to perhaps 25 miles per hour from a speed of between 40 to 45 miles per hour before accelerating past him. He estimated that there was a mere 5, 10, or perhaps 15 seconds between the moment they noticed the stranger and the time they lost sight of him.
When observed, the man had turned toward the entryway of one of the residences—possibly 3712 Jackson Street—Fouke explained years later, though he never saw the stranger get to the top of the concrete stairs or enter the home. Even though he remembered the address explicitly years later, he claimed to not have told anyone, and it wasn’t listed in any report. His first explanation, when challenged many years later, was that he assumed that the man did not live there so it was immaterial to the case. When asked whether this was important enough to report, he claimed that he thought—“all these years”—that he had written it in the record. His two descriptions of the man’s movements—that he turned north on Maple to enter the park at the road’s end and that he went up concrete steps toward a front door—were never reconciled. Nor was the discrepancy between thinking the information immaterial for a report and thinking that he had included it in a written record.
