Date With the Devil

by Don Lasseter

  Bynum’s intercession worked perfectly. Mahler said he would help them find Kristi if they would allow him five telephone calls. Bynum agreed on the condition he would first provide a list of names he planned to call. He listed Stacy, someone named Mark, who would know where “the piece” is, a bail bondsman, and Mahler’s sister. He hadn’t yet decided who the fifth person would be.

  It seemed reasonable to Bynum. “For those phone calls, we’ll be able to locate somebody who needs to be found. Is that what you are telling me?”

  “That is correct. I’ll put it on paper.” However, Mahler added, he wanted it understood that he was making no admission of any crimes. “It will be information I have been provided from other sources, not personal knowledge.” Bynum and Small concurred.

  Apparently feeling generous, Mahler asked, “Do you know her last name yet? Does her family know yet?”

  “We will be contacting them as soon as we have the information we need,” said Small. He wanted to know if the woman’s name was really Kristi.

  Mahler replied, “That’s what her driver’s license said.”

  Bynum asked, “Is she also known as Cheryl?”

  Mahler’s face turned pale. “No, no, no, no!” he shouted. “How is Cheryl involved in this?”

  Startled, Bynum explained, “I was just asking.”

  “You’re scaring me,” Mahler bellowed. “Cheryl is not missing, is she? Cheryl, I do love. Is she okay?”

  It settled him down when Bynum said she didn’t even know Cheryl. Her name had been mentioned several times by Mahler, and the detective just wanted to avoid confusion in identities.

  Eager to learn Kristi’s last name, Small asked for it again and explained that if she had ever been arrested, he could perhaps find a photo of her “and see if this is the girl we’re talking about.”

  With that kerfuffle settled, Mahler even offered to give the name and phone number of Kristin’s “father.” Evidently unaware that Peter Means was her stepfather, David said, “She talks more—she talked more about her father than she did her mother.” It didn’t escape the detectives’ radar that he had changed his use of Kristin’s name to the past tense, probably indicating knowledge that she was dead. Mahler drove home the point, again, that “there is no admission of guilt here. You’ve not heard me say anything about being guilty.”

  The deal, according to Mahler, would be for him to write down information the detectives wanted, and then fold the paper in half. They would wait until he made his allotted phone calls before reading it. He would trust them not to read it early, and they would have to trust him that the information would fit their needs. With the bargain sealed, he wrote and folded his document. He again barked out: “I just want to get my bail so I can get out of here. Then you get what you want.”

  The detectives escorted Mahler to a speaker-telephone, keyed in numbers he requested, and activated a machine to record them. He stated once more, “Remember, there is no admission of guilt here.” First he spoke to Stacy Tipton on her cell phone. She said that she was en route, and very close to the Hollywood Station. Next he attempted to reach a business associate but got no answer. He was able to connect with a bail bondsman, who said he would be there right away. The fourth call went to his sister in another state, but she did not answer.

  Following the phone calls, it turned out that Mahler had written on the folded paper the number of Sheldon Weinberg. He explained that Sheldon would have contact information for Kristin’s family. Mistakenly, Mahler said the father lived in Hawaii. He had accurately noted Kristin’s surname as Baldwin.

  Small asked Mahler if he knew her age and full first name. Mahler said he didn’t know, but added that he was going to provide information that would help with those details. “Just remember, I don’t know who did it. Hypothetically, if I did, I wouldn’t say. But her driver’s license can be picked up—it was just put there recently—I didn’t do it, but if I did, I deny it—it can be picked up along with her credit cards and other personal possessions at the intersection of Sunset Plaza and Sunset Boulevard. It’s in one of the garbage cans outside of a restaurant. From what I understand, and the way it was relayed to me, the cans were almost empty when the stuff was dropped in there. So it should be relatively easy to find.”

  “Okay,” said Small, “what about the other information I was asking for?”

  Mahler vacillated, hinting that he had already met his part of the bargain and wanted some approbation for being so cooperative.

  Ignoring the diversion, Small asked, “Is she going to need medical attention?”

  “Do you want my honest opinion?”

  “Of course, I do.”

  “I don’t think—there’s—I don’t think she can be helped.”

  Vicki Bynum would later describe the comment as “real cold” and “evil.”

  The disclosure also bothered Tom Small, but it didn’t surprise him. He still needed to know where she could be found. Mahler showed far more interest in his self-protection. “If I say more, it hurts my case. I know this will go to trial, and I’m hurting myself by telling you anything. How can I do this without self-incriminating? I think there is a way. I will sign a statement. I, David Mahler, via hearsay—underlined—have been hereby informed, not through personal knowledge, that Kristi Baldwin may or may not be, but—in all probability—is at the following location.”

  The offer stunned Tom Small. He asked, “How will that help you?”

  “It’s gonna help me more than just telling you.”

  “Okay. That’s fine.”

  Vicki Bynum threw in her instant approval. “Let’s go for it.”

  Mahler still wanted assurance they would portray him in the best possible light in reports to the DA. Small said, “The information will be passed along to those who need to know.”

  At three minutes past four o’clock, Mahler began printing on lined paper. He reminded both detectives that they must cosign the document. They agreed. As he printed the words, he read them aloud. He wrote:

  6/1/07

  I, David Mahler, accused suspect or party with alleged information, without admitting any guilt & denying all guilt, through & by HEARSAY have reason to believe that Kristi Baldwin may be found at the following location.

  Intersection of I-15 No. (above Barstow) and I-40 near hospital sign. This in no way shall be used to be incriminating Mr. Mahler as it’s ... voluntary and without coercion.

  However, both Detective Small and Detective Bynum acknowledge their appreciation for this information.

  Mahler signed his name in cursive letters nearly two inches high. Below that, Tom Small and Vicki Bynum entered their signatures.

  While writing the portion about a hospital, Mahler said, “There is a hospital right there. That was purposely part of it. Okay? It was almost like dropping someone off at a hospital.”

  Small had doubts. “Okay, so she would have been noticed out in plain view and maybe treated by that hospital?”

  Mahler agreed. “And possibly treated.” He added that she had not, as far as he knew, been put in a place of concealment.

  The reference to a hospital would turn out to be totally untrue. The site where Kristin Baldwin’s body had been dumped was nowhere near a hospital. No hospital sign could be seen within a ten-mile radius.

  Tom Small wanted more. “Any chance you would be able to include where someone might look for the gun?”

  “What if I provide it to you? I’m going to be out of here in an hour. Can you stop that now?”

  Small said, “I can’t stop you. No. That’s your right.”

  “Unless you charge me with something else, I guess.”

  “I have nothing else.” He explained that he wanted to send someone out to pick up the weapon so it wouldn’t fall into the wrong hands.

  “Okay,” said Mahler. “I’m even going to tell you where this gun came from. I’d love you to go talk to him, the son of a bitch. He’s a cop. On the gun it says, ‘Issued by the L.A. Polic
e Department.’ Son of a bitch shouldn’t be giving out guns, should he? Sorry, I’m getting a little emotional about it. Jimenez, Robert Jimenez. You want his address? I’ll give it to you.”

  “Is that where the gun is?”

  “No, he doesn’t have it now. He’s the one who left it at my house—in my opinion, intentionally.”

  “Okay, then where is it?”

  Once again, Mahler turned reluctant, complaining about possible self-incrimination, hesitating and asserting his innocence. Small asked if he wanted to write this information down too. Yes, Mahler said, but added, “I don’t know if you’re going to find it. That’s gonna be tougher. You know, you guys talk to me for twenty hours, and all of a sudden I figure you are my friends. You’re not my friends. You’re here to get me.”

  “No,” said Small. “We’re here to find the facts and clear everything up.”

  Mahler proceeded to deliver another long-winded spiel of personal philosophy, but Small stopped him.

  “Can we get to the gun, please?”

  With an agreement by all three, Mahler put pen to paper again:

  6/1/07 4:26 P.M.

  I David Mahler hereby admit, swear & testify that one Robert Jimenez, purported officer at law and bail recovery agent, placed a gun/revolver into Mr. Mahler’s home and did not remove it despite several requests to do so and as such the gun seemingly & apparently was the item involved with an incident re; Kristi.

  No guilt to be presumed, assumed, or construed.

  The gun was left intentionally by Robert Jimenez, labeled Prop of Police & claimed to be unregistered & unlicensed.

  Mr. Mahler wishes contrition on having the gun in the house & having handled the gun several times before the alleged incident (i.e. 7 days prior) and Detectives acknowledging this statement is given to secure in the interests of public safety & not to evidentiary incriminate or to further promote any liability prior to 6/1/07 to David Mahler.

  It is hoped by Mr. Mahler that the State recognizes his sympathy, remorse & cooperation.

  This gun is located, based on hearsay, at or about 1400-1600 Sunset Plaza Drive in a large green Dumpster in a plastic bag.

  During the preparation of this second document, David Mahler and Tom Small discussed each passage, while Vicki Bynum took a restroom break. They decided the weapon was a revolver, because it resembled a “cowboy gun.” The subject of liability for Jimenez came up. Mahler lamented that if the gun hadn’t been left in his house, the “incident” would never have happened. He said, “I want this guy. As far as I’m concerned, if not for ever knowing him, I wouldn’t be in any trouble, ’cause I’ve never had a gun in my house.” Mahler worried repeatedly about his culpability if investigators found the weapon. He expressed the opinion, though, that he would never be convicted of anything. “I haven’t lost a case in eleven years.”

  He completed the writing soon after Bynum returned, and all three of them signed it.

  Bynum informed Mahler that she had learned, coming back from the restroom, that his bail bond guy had arrived. He perked up, believing he would be leaving within an hour.

  He was wrong.

  CHAPTER 20

  LIES, LEGALITIES, AND LEGWORK

  Locked in a jail cell, David Mahler fumed with outrage. Frustrated, disappointed, and boiling over with anger, he couldn’t believe he had been outwitted. To him, the interrogators had cheated and used deceptive tricks. He had undergone the humiliating booking process under “probable cause” rules, in violation of California Penal Code 187 (a), murder. After being fingerprinted and photographed, Mahler found himself once more in a dreaded cell. He would have to remain behind bars at least until the district attorney filed charges on Monday morning. And if he faced first-degree murder, there could be no bail. From expectation of leaving the Hollywood Station on Saturday evening, Mahler knew he might be in jail for months while waiting for trial.

  Stacy Tipton arrived just before the interview ended, and waited near the front desk. When she finally received permission to visit Mahler, Stacy worked hard to calm him down, but she had little success. Later speaking of it, she said, “I saw him in the Hollywood Station. He was still in his street clothes, a black jersey and dark slacks. I couldn’t believe all of this had happened to him.”

  Directing his anger at Stacy, Mahler accused her of not being there for him in his hours of need. His slashing words seemed to blame her for failing to show up on Sunday, May 27, when the shooting had occurred in his bedroom. She stood her ground, and said, “David, I tried to call you and explain. My dad just wanted to make sure the locks and everything worked on my new car. You didn’t answer your phone or call me back. You assumed I was standing you up. Instead of yelling at me for not being there, you should thank me for trying. I wanted to tell you to clean up your act and get rid of all this junk in your life. I was going to tell you if you did that, I wanted to marry you.”

  In recalling it, Stacy quoted David as saying, “Why didn’t you tell me this before?”

  Stacy would continue to visit him.

  Dead tired after more than fourteen hours on the job, Vicki Bynum and Tom Small still had enough energy to feel a sense of triumph and attend to a few more details. They had laid out their game plan in advance, and played it perfectly. Less experienced detectives might have withered under the difficult challenge of interrogating a smug lawyer suspected of a homicide, or prying any useful information from him. And to elicit incriminating statements might have seemed impossible. Yet, Bynum and Small had turned Mahler’s complacent arrogance into an advantage. So determined to wiggle his way out of a tight spot, and overconfident that he could outsmart a couple of cops, David Mahler had spilled more information than might be expected from uneducated street thugs. His glib effort to cast all of the information as “hearsay” turned out to be an inept failure. Bynum and Small’s adherence to the rules of proper interview techniques, with no promises, had produced not only laudable results, but had been accomplished with the highest level of professionalism.

  Tom Small would later say, “The thing about Mahler is, he thinks he can negotiate his way out of anything. He has a long pattern of doing that with everyone. It’s what he can get out of it. He wants you to think he’s got something on you so you owe him. That’s the way he works. People around him know that and some of them have been sucked in by it before and don’t want to owe him, so they stop having anything to do with him.”

  If there had been any doubt of Mahler’s credibility, the interview had crushed it. He had been caught in at least a dozen misleading statements:

  • Initially, Mahler said he hadn’t seen Kristin from the time they met until a week or two ago.

  • At first he insisted that he didn’t know Kristin’s last name, then later gave it.

  • His tale of Edmund slapping Kristin was disputed by Donnie Van Develde’s story.

  • He said he registered at the Island Hotel in his own name.

  • “I don’t want drugs around me or in my house” was patently false.

  • His denial of summoning Donnie to his room was belied by Van Develde.

  • His assertions of calling Van Develde and Norvik for “advice” was untrue.

  • Stacy lived in Visalia, not Bakersfield.

  • More claims of not using drugs faded into admissions of frequent usage.

  • He said he had not used any prostitutes lately, but actually had paid for one at the Marriott.

  • “There have never been guns in my house” was a lie.

  • He insisted he had last seen Kristin at 3:00 A.M. Sunday. Donnie said she was there at 6:00 A.M.

  More probable lies became evident to Small and Bynum. Some of the deception lay in information that Mahler had provided by framing personal knowledge as “hearsay.” Both detectives believed that he had shot Kristin to death and dumped her body somewhere. In addition, he had personally disposed of the gun in a trash bin at a construction site on Sunset Plaza Drive, probably when he drove from
Cole Crest to the LAX Marriott on early Sunday morning, May 27. At the point where the street intersects with Sunset Boulevard, he doubtlessly had made a stop behind a Chinese restaurant and ditched Kristin’s identification documents in a trash bin at one end of the parking lot.

  Subsequent investigation of Mahler’s statements would reveal even more duplicity. In a discussion about the interview, months later, the detectives explained how they could contain themselves during the arduous interview.

  Small said, “I was acting the whole time, because I either wanted to strangle this guy, beat the hell out of him, or laugh.”

  Bynum confided, “It was a grueling nine hours. It was hard. A lot of people would have given up.”

  Small agreed. “They would have. But the whole thing was—the motivation for us was—did we have maybe a slim chance to find her alive? Do we have a chance? If there was any hope, and she was near a hospital sign, like he said, even though we doubted it, we had to take the chance. That’s why we persisted. Otherwise, we would have booked his ass a lot sooner.”

  Before ending their long tours on that Saturday, Bynum and Small wanted to find a photo of Kristin Baldwin. They left messages with the California Department of Motor Vehicles and similar county departments in Hawaii, but none of these contacts would result in obtaining photos. Small tried one more source. Wondering if Kristin had ever been jailed, he accessed computer records and hit the jackpot. The DUI incident in Ventura County, a couple of years earlier, produced a mug shot, plus the recording of fingerprints, full name, and other information. Now the detectives had not only a photo, but they knew her name was Kristin Frances Means, aka Baldwin, with a birth date of May 6, 1969. So she had vanished from Mahler’s Cole Crest house exactly three weeks after her thirty-eighth birthday.