Nancy Pitman, who had been arrested with Davis, was freed on the forgery charge. She was rearrested a few weeks later while trying to pass Manson a tab of LSD in the visitors’ room at the County Jail. After serving thirty days, she was again freed, to rejoin the group on the corner and, subsequently, to become involved in still another murder.
DECEMBER 21, 1970–JANUARY 25, 1971
When court reconvened, the four defendants created a disturbance—Manson throwing a paper clip at the judge, the girls accusing him of “doing away with Hughes”—all obviously planned actions to garner the day’s headlines.
Older ordered the four removed. As Sadie was being escorted out, she passed behind me. Though I didn’t see what happened, I felt it: she knocked over an exhibit board, hitting me on the back of the head. Those who witnessed the incident said it appeared she was lunging for the Buck knife, which was on a nearby table. Thereafter the knife was kept well out of the reach of the defendants.
Maxwell Keith then told the Court that though he now felt himself familiar with the evidence, from having read the transcripts and other documents, he was not at all sure he could effectively represent his client, since he had not been present when the witnesses testified and therefore could not judge their demeanor or credibility. On this basis, he requested a mistrial.
Though Keith argued persuasively, Judge Older denied the motion, observing that every day attorneys argue cases in appellate courts without having been present during the actual trials.
Once this and several other motions were out of the way, it was time for the People’s opening argument.*
During the guilt phase of a trial in California, the prosecution delivers an opening argument, which is followed by the opening argument of the defense (or rebuttal), and, last, a closing argument (or final summation) by the prosecution. Thus the People have the last word during the guilt trial.
During the penalty trial, if there is one, each side gives two arguments, with the defense being allowed to argue last.
I had spent several hundred hours preparing my opening argument for the guilt trial, starting even before the beginning of the trial itself. The result was contained in some 400 handwritten pages. But by this time I knew their contents so well I didn’t even need to read them, but only glanced at them periodically.
I began by discussing in depth, with charts and other aids, the points of law the jury would have to consider: murder, conspiracy, and so on. The instructions which the judge would give the jury are printed, formal statements of law that use nebulous, abstract terms that often even lawyers don’t understand. Moreover, the judge does not tell the jury how these rules of law apply to the facts of the case. Thus, in the jury’s mind, the rules are floating lazily in the air with no thread connecting them to anything tangible. In each case I try, I make it a point to supply that link, by the liberal use of common-sense examples, by translating legalese into words and thoughts the jury will understand, and by literally tying those rules to the evidence.
After I had done this, I got into the principal part of my opening argument, summarizing the testimony of each witness, often quoting verbatim the words he had used on the stand, interrelating this testimony with the other evidence, and drawing inferences from it. Though the presentation took three days, it was a tight, cohesive package, and by the time I had finished I felt confident that I had established, beyond all doubt, Manson’s control, his motives, his involvement, and the involvement of Watson, Atkins, Krenwinkel, and Van Houten.
Apparently it got to Charlie. At the end of my opening statement, he had tried to bribe deputy Maupin to free him. The night after I completed the first day of my opening argument, he tried to break out of jail.
Though the incident was officially denied by LASO, one of the deputies told me the details. Despite daily searches of both his person and his cell, Manson had managed to obtain an incredibly long piece of string, at the end of which he had attached a small weight. By some unknown means or manner—for the area was supposedly under constant surveillance—he had got the string across the walkway in front of his cell and out a window, where it reached a full ten stories to the ground. One or more confederates then attached the contraband. However, something must have happened which prevented Manson from pulling it up, for when a deputy came around the corner of the Hall of Justice the next morning, he spotted the string and its cargo: a lid of marijuana and a hacksaw blade.
Accepting a promise that they would behave, Judge Older permitted the three female defendants to return to court the next afternoon. Manson, who said he had no desire to return, remained in the lockup, listening to the proceedings from there.
I had just resumed my argument when Leslie created a disturbance. Sadie and Katie followed suit, and each of the three was again ordered removed. This time Sadie was led in front of the lecturn where I was standing. Suddenly, without warning, she kicked one of the female deputies in the leg, then grabbed some of my notes, tearing them in half. Grabbing them back, I involuntarily muttered, beneath my breath, “You little bitch!”
Though provoked, I regretted losing my cool.
The next day the Long Beach Independent bore the following front-page headline:
MANSON PROSECUTOR TAKES SWING AT SUSAN
According to reporter Mary Neiswender: “The chaos was capped by the chief prosecutor swearing at and attempting to slug one of the defendants…Bugliosi slapped the girl’s hand, grabbed his notes and then swung at her shouting, ‘You little bitch!’”
In common with everyone else in the courtroom, Judge Older saw the incident somewhat differently. Describing it for the record, he branded the charge that I was struggling with Susan “absolutely false. There was no struggle between Mr. Bugliosi and anybody. What happened was [she] walked by the rostrum and grabbed the notes off the rostrum.”
While I’d like to say this was the only inaccurate press coverage during the trial, unfortunately the accounts of several reporters—including a representative of one of the wire services, whose reports appeared in papers all over the country—were often so error-filled that reading them gave one the feeling that the reporters had been attending another trial. On the other hand, such reporters as John Kendall of the Los Angeles Times and Bill Farr of the Los Angeles Herald Examiner did an excellent job, often catching little nuances even the attorneys missed.
After Krenwinkel had been removed, Judge Older called counsel to the bench and said that he had had it. “It is perfectly obvious to the Court that after lo, these many months, the defendants are operating in concert with each other…I don’t think any American court is required to subject itself to this kind of nonsense day after day when it is perfectly obvious that the defendants are using it as a stage for some kind of performance…” Older then stated that the defendants would not be permitted to return to court during the remainder of the guilt trial.
I had hoped to finish my argument before court recessed for the Christmas holiday, but Kanarek’s multitudinous objections prevented my doing so.
The feelings of the jurors at being sequestered over Christmas were exemplified by one who hung up the hotel menu and wrote “BAH, HUMBUG” across it. Though they were permitted family visits, and special parties had been arranged at the Ambassador, it was for most a miserable time. None had anticipated being away from home this long. Many were worried whether they would still have their jobs when the trial ended. And no one, including the judge, would even venture a guess when that might be.
On weekends both jurors and alternates—always accompanied by two male and two female deputies—had taken trips to such places as Disneyland, the movie studios, the San Diego Zoo, many probably seeing more of Southern California than they had in the whole of their lives. They had dinner at restaurants all over Los Angeles. They went bowling, swimming, even nightclubbing. But this was only partial compensation for their long ordeal.
To keep up morale, the bailiffs exhibited considerable ingenuity. For example, though the trial was p
erhaps the most widely publicized in history, there were days when most of the action took place in chambers and newsmen could find little to report. At such times bailiff Bill Murray often cut huge sections out of the newspapers, just to make the jurors think they were still in the headlines.
But the strain was getting to them. Older people for the most part, they were set in their ways. Inevitably, arguments broke out, factions developed. One temperamental male juror slapped bailiff Ann Orr one night when, against his wishes, she changed channels on the communal TV. Often Murray and Orr sat up to 4 or 5 A.M., listening to a juror’s complaints. As we neared the end of the guilt trial, I began worrying not about the evidence but about the personal disagreements the jurors might be carrying into the jury room with them when they began their deliberations.
It only takes one person to hang up a jury.
I concluded my opening argument on Monday, December 28, by telling the jury what I thought the defense’s case would be, thereby lessening the psychological impact of the defense attorney’s arguments.
“The defense will probably argue that there is no conspiracy…They will tell you that the Helter Skelter motive is absurd, ridiculous, unbelievable…They will tell you that the interpretation of the Beatles’ songs by Manson was normal…They will tell you that Linda is insane with LSD; that she made up her story to be granted immunity; that Linda’s testimony as an accomplice has not been corroborated…Probably they will tell you the reason why they never put on a defense is because the prosecution never proved their case…They will tell you that Charles Manson is not a killer; he wouldn’t harm a flea.
“They will tell you that Charlie was not the leader of the Family; he never ordered these murders…They will tell you that this has been a case of circumstantial evidence—as if there is something wrong with circumstantial evidence—completely disregarding the direct evidence by the way of Linda’s testimony.
“Out of 18,000 pages of transcript, they will come up here and there with a slight discrepancy between the testimony of one witness and another witness, which of course has to be expected, but they will tell you this means that the People’s witnesses are liars.”
I then asked the jury as intelligent men and women to conscientiously evaluate the evidence in this case, applying common sense and reason, and thereby reach a just and fair verdict.
“Under the law of this state and nation these defendants are entitled to have their day in court. They got that.
“They are also entitled to have a fair trial by an impartial jury. They also got that.
“That is all that they are entitled to!
“Since they committed these seven senseless murders, the People of the State of California are entitled to a guilty verdict.”
Toward the opening of his argument for Patricia Krenwinkel, Paul Fitzgerald said, “If we set out to rebut every witness the prosecution put on that stand we would be here until 1974,” unthinkingly emphasizing the strength of the People’s case, as well as the defense’s inability to answer it.
Fitzgerald’s argument was very disappointing. Not only were there many things he could have argued but didn’t, he repeatedly misstated the evidence. He said that Sebring was hanged; that all the victims had been stabbed to death; and Tim Ireland heard Parent scream. He referred to Sharon as “Mary Polanski” he had the killers entering the Tate residence through a bedroom window; he confused how many times Frykowski had been stabbed and struck. He said Linda testified to five knives rather than three; he had Linda driving on the second night when Manson was, and vice versa; he had a deputy who wasn’t even present arresting Manson during the Spahn raid; and so on.
The prosecution stressed “murder, murder, murder,” Fitzgerald said. “Actually, you have to decide whether it is a murder.” The first thing the jury should decide, he continued, is “what crimes, if any, were committed.”
“Now, a .22 caliber pistol, it strikes me, is a classically inefficient way to kill somebody…”
“It obviously does not make sense to hang anybody…”
“If you were a mastermind criminal, if you had absolute power over the minds and bodies of bootlicking slaves, as they were referred to, would you send women out to do a man’s job?…Women, ladies and gentleman, are life-givers. They make love, they get pregnant, they deliver babies. They are life-givers, not takers away. Women are adverse to violence…”
Only a small portion of Fitzgerald’s argument was devoted to the evidence against his client. And rebuttal it was not.
He said that “there is doubt as to whether or not that fingerprint [found at the Tate residence] belongs to Patricia Krenwinkel.” Even presuming it did, he said, “It is entirely conceivable, possible, and reasonable that Patricia Krenwinkel was at that house as an invited guest or a friend.”
Some friend!
As for Krenwinkel’s so-called confession to Dianne Lake, that she dragged Abigail Folger from the bedroom to the living room, that wasn’t a confession at all, Fitzgerald said. She didn’t say when this occurred or where. Maybe it took place in San Francisco in 1967.
Fitzgerald did spend a great deal of time trying to destroy the credibility of Linda Kasabian. In my argument I had remarked: “Linda Kasabian was on that witness stand, ladies and gentleman, for eighteen days—an extraordinarily long period of time for any witness to testify in any case. I think you will agree with me that during those eighteen days Linda Kasabian and the truth were companions.” Fitzgerald challenged this. But he was unable to cite a single discrepancy in her account.
However, the greater portion of his argument dealt with the case against Charles Manson. All the testimony regarding Manson’s philosophy proved, Fitzgerald said, was “that he is some sort of right-wing hippie.” Manson, Manson, Manson.
Fitzgerald ended his argument with a long, impassionated plea—not for his client, Patricia Krenwinkel, but for Charles Manson. There was, he concluded, insufficient evidence against Manson.
Not once did he say that there was insufficient evidence against Patricia Krenwinkel.
Nor did he even ask the jury to come back with a not guilty verdict for his client!
Daye Shinn had prepared a chart listing all the witnesses who testified against his client, Susan Atkins. He said he would rebut each.
“The first one on the list is Linda Kasabian, and I believe Mr. Fitzgerald has adequately covered Miss Kasabian’s testimony.”
He then skimmed over the criminal records of DeCarlo, Howard, Graham, and Walker.
On Danny DeCarlo: “How would you like to have him for your son-in-law? How would you like to have him meet your daughters?”
On Virginia Graham: “How would you like to invite her to your house for Christmas? You would have to hide the silverware.
“Mr. Bugliosi is laughing. At least I did not put him to sleep.”
Shinn’s entire argument took only 38 pages of transcript.
Irving Kanarek, who followed Shinn, consumed 1,182.
For the most part, Kanarek ignored my argument against Manson. Remaining on the offense rather than taking the defense, he pounded home two names—Tex, Linda. Who was it Linda Kasabian first slept with at Spahn Ranch? Stole the $5,000 for? Accompanied to the Tate residence? Charles “Tex” Watson. The most logical explanation for these murders was the simplest, Kanarek said. “Love of a girl for a boy.”
As for his client, Kanarek portrayed him as a peaceful man whose only sin, if he had one, was that he preached and practiced love. “Now the people who brought these charges, they want to get Charles Manson, for some ungodly reason, which I think is related to Manson’s life style.”
Though many of his statements seemed to me to be too ridiculous for comment, I took many notes during Kanarek’s argument. For he also planted little doubts, which, unless rebutted, could grow into bigger ones when the jury began its deliberations.
If the purpose was to start a black-white war, why did it stop the second night? Why wasn’t there a third night, and a f
ourth?…Why didn’t the prosecution bring in Nader, and the policemen on the beach, and the man whose life Linda claimed to have saved?…Are we to believe that by means of a wallet found in a toilet tank Mr. Manson intended to start a race war?…If Tex pushed Parent’s car up the driveway, why weren’t his prints found on it?
Several times Kanarek referred to the trial as a “circus,” a remark to which Judge Older reacted very strongly. He also reacted, this time without my prompting, to Kanarek’s charge that the prosecution had suppressed evidence. “There is no evidence in this case that anyone has suppressed anything,” Older said.
At the end of Kanarek’s second day of argument, Judge Older told him that he was putting the jury to sleep. “Now, I am not going to tell you how to make an argument,” Older said at the bench, “but I would suggest to you that you may not be doing your client the utmost amount of good by prolonging it unduly…”
He went on for a third day, and a fourth.
On the fifth day the jury sent a note to the bailiff, requesting NoDoz for themselves and sleeping pills for Mr. Kanarek.
On the sixth day Older warned Kanarek, “You are abusing your right to argue just as you have abused practically every other right you have in this case…There is a point, Mr. Kanarek, at which argument is no longer argument but a filibuster…Yours is reaching that point.”
Kanarek went on another full day before bringing his argument to an end with the statement: “Charles Manson is not guilty of any crime.”
Several times during Kanarek’s argument Manson had interrupted with remarks from the lockup. Once he shouted, loud enough for the jury to hear, “Why don’t you sit down? You’re just making things worse.”
Helter Skelter: The True Story of the Manson Murders Page 57
