by Don Lasseter
A tiny tidbit of information remained, though. Mahler’s cell phone had been used to call one of his friends at 1:19 A.M., about an hour before the 1999 Jaguar left. The same friend had been called again at 6:34 A.M., almost forty-five minutes before the car pulled back into the Cole Crest garage. No activity could be seen between those two calls. It suggested that he had perhaps driven a long distance, and contacted his friend en route back home.
Working long hours and feeling the pressure to locate Kristin Baldwin—whether deceased or still alive—the detectives needed some help. Vicki Bynum asked Officer Brett Goodkin and his partner, Officer Jerry Wert, to lend a hand in interviewing people involved in the case. The duo readily agreed.
Stripper Cheryl Lane, David Mahler’s former girlfriend, was easy to locate. Bynum found her telephone number in Mahler’s cellular directory. Goodkin gave her a call at three o’ clock on that busy Monday. Cheryl said she would meet them the next day at a Starbucks on Sherman Way in Van Nuys. They set a time of 4:30 P.M.
Detective Tom Small sat in the Hollywood Station interview room with Karl Norvik at six o’clock, Monday evening. Nervous and perspiring, Norvik told Small about the living arrangements at Cole Crest for himself, David Mahler, Jeremy Moudy, and Donnie Van Develde. He had been there “for the better part of twelve years,” but he now resided with a relative in Orange County. Mahler had been there about six years. “I used to handle the managerial duties, but David replaced me.”
About the events of Saturday and Sunday, May 26 and 27, Karl said he was at the house when he saw Mahler and another man arrive at about seven o’ clock, Saturday evening. The “client,” according to Norvik, was a male Hispanic, fat, approximately five-eleven. He had seen the two men walk through the common area of the residence and down to either Mahler’s bedroom or the office. The overweight man stayed only about forty-five minutes.
“Were you there by yourself?” Small asked.
“No. A friend of mine was with me until he left at seven thirty.”
Karl had gone to his bedroom and retired between ten and eleven, he said. About four hours later, approximately three thirty on Sunday morning, he had been awakened by the sounds of loud shouting. He recognized Mahler’s distinctive bellowing in argument with an unknown female voice. The prolonged disturbance had been so loud, Norvik had covered his head with a pillow to try to muffle it. He spoke of hearing a loud thud overhead, like something heavy falling to the floor. Also, he thought he heard a female voice scream momentarily, and then all was silent.
To Small’s inquiry about hearing a possible gunshot, Norvik couldn’t say he had.
At about six thirty, Norvik said, Mahler had banged on his bedroom door, yelling, “This is an emergency. I need to dispose of a dead body.”
“I didn’t believe him,” Norvik told Small. “He seemed to be intoxicated. I opened my door and saw him standing there. He repeated his wild comments, and then led me upstairs.”
In Small’s written report of the interview, he entered, Norvik observed a deceased female which he described as a “corpse,” lying on her back, face up, palms up and arms angled out from her sides. The body was lying at the foot of Mahler’s bed, about eight feet away from where Norvik stood to make his observations.
His voice shaking with nerves, Norvik told Small that the woman was obviously dead, and it looked to him like she had been shot in the face from close range. He said he saw a large volume of blood on the victim’s face and upper body.
Asked for a description of the woman, Karl stated that she was a white female, with bleached blond hair, wearing a halter top, and “sheer” white pants. The sight had been so emotionally disturbing that Norvik had to sit down on the exterior stair landing just outside of Mahler’s bedroom.
Norvik recalled asking Mahler, “What did you do?”
Mahler, he said, replied, “I shot her over by the balcony. So you want no part of this?”
Norvik had replied instantly that he absolutely did not want any part of this and returned to his room.
Growing even more nervous, perhaps over the possibility that he might be charged with being an accomplice after the fact, Norvik told the detective that he waited about five or ten minutes, then went out on his balcony for a smoke and to contemplate what he should do. His downstairs neighbor, Donnie, also out on his balcony, called up in a loud whisper to Norvik to say that something bad had happened in Mahler’s room. It involved “death and murder.” Donnie, said Karl, used his hands to simulate the action of firing a handgun.
“I played dumb,” Norvik confided to Small. He summoned Donnie up to his room to talk about it. “He gave me his story about seeing Mahler waving a gun around at the girl and at him.” In Donnie’s opinion, David was out of his mind on drugs. He had shot the girl right after Donnie stepped out of the room. Donnie left but came back a little later and saw her on the floor, covered by a bedspread, all but one of her hands. “We agreed not to call or tell anyone about it.” Karl remained in his room for several hours, he said, and later heard what he thought was a vacuum cleaner being used in or near Mahler’s bedroom.
Frightened that Mahler might come after him, Norvik said, he had left later that evening of May 27 and gone to Orange County. On June 1, he had called Donnie and told him he was about to notify the police.
In Norvik’s view, Mahler was a “hot rocket” who used a lot of cocaine and methamphetamine in recent weeks.
Small asked, “Were you aware of any guns in Mahler’s possession?”
Yes, said Norvik. Five or six weeks before the murder, Mahler had shown him a .38-caliber revolver, which he kept in a leather holster hidden in his closet. “I think it had either a four- or six-inch barrel.” Uncertain of the weapon’s color, Norvik guessed it was silver.
He stated that he thought he had seen a gunshot wound below the victim’s left eye, but he couldn’t be certain because her face was covered with blood.
As the interview ended, Karl Norvik quoted David Mahler warning him not to tell anyone about the events.
Working on Monday, June 4, Detective Lance Jurado, another member of the investigative team, located several links in the chain of Kristin Baldwin’s life. Working from information Kristin had given at the time of the DUI arrest, Jurado went to an apartment on Woodman Avenue in Van Nuys, where Kristin had sometimes stayed. The manager recognized a photo as Kristin Baldwin and put Jurado in contact with a man who had been dating Kristin. The detective called and spoke to the former boyfriend. They had broken up two or three months ago. He remembered receiving a call from her sometime in May and that she appeared to be “troubled and distressed” because a guy named Damien had accused her of taking something of his.
So far, investigators had heard several references to a car that Kristin drove, but no records turned up to reveal any information about it. The former boyfriend told Jurado that she drove a blue or black Geo Storm hatchback. He also mentioned that Kristin had been friends with a woman named Kitty, who worked in the adult film industry. He gave the name and phone number of a producer who would know how to reach Kitty.
Jurado made a call and found that Kitty had recently been working for an adult-entertainment talent agency. He contacted the company and spoke to Kitty, who agreed to meet the detective at a nearby diner in twenty minutes.
At 6:20 P.M., she showed up with a male companion. Kitty easily identified the booking photo of Kristin. Regarding her own background, she said that when she came to Los Angeles from Florida, she had been introduced to Damien Michaels. He talked her into entering the porn film industry as a performer with him. Soon afterward, she moved into a house with Damien in Calabasas.
The relationship hadn’t lasted long, said Kitty. She had broken up with him after a fight during which he bit her wrist. Damien then introduced her to his “personal attorney,” a guy named David Mahler. Kitty and Mahler had started dating and were eventually engaged. However, they had a big argument when she found out that he was hot for Kristin, who had al
so moved into the Calabasas house.
“I confronted Kristi,” Kitty told the detective. “She apologized, and we became good friends.” Even though she and Mahler had split, they remained on friendly terms. A few days ago, said Kitty, a male pal had said he got a call from Kristin on Friday, May 25. She had been stranded by Mahler at a hotel in Newport Beach. Kitty had talked to Mahler since then by phone, and asked him how the trip to Newport with Kristi had turned out. He had acknowledged “some trouble,” but refused to say any more about it.
Kitty gave Jurado a current address and phone number where Michael Conoscenti, known as Damien, now lived. She also revealed that Damien and Mahler were no longer friends, but maintained a business relationship.
Detective Jurado’s interview with Kitty would be her final contact with investigators. Later speaking of her, Tom Small said, “I think Kitty was Mahler’s one true love. She was a porn star, and that seemed to be right up his alley. She took off to Florida during the investigation, and we couldn’t find her after that.”
CHAPTER 22
STRIPPER’S STORY
Cheryl Lane showed up, as promised, on Tuesday, June 5, at a Starbucks in Van Nuys. Officer Brett Goodkin and his partner were waiting in the parking lot when she arrived by herself in a 1987 blue Chevrolet Camaro. They jotted down the license number.
After greetings, introductions, and orders of coffee, Cheryl sat at a table with the two officers. Both of them were surprised at her youth and diminutive stature. She produced a driver’s license, which gave her birth date, and said she hadn’t yet turned twenty-one. Only five-four, she weighed exactly one hundred pounds. With no hesitation, Cheryl told them she was currently employed as an “exotic dancer” at a gentlemen’s nightclub. She performed as “Cherry.”
Asked about her relationship with David Mahler, Cheryl said she had known him a little longer than one year. She had been introduced to him by Damien Michaels. None of the investigators had yet met Damien Michaels, so Goodkin asked Cheryl for a description of him. She said he was about five-eight, with brown eyes and brown hair, maybe touched up with dye, and wore a little goatee. She thought he was about fifty years old. It came as a bonus that she could also provide his current address on Gault Street, in Van Nuys, and his phone number.
Damien, Cheryl said, had once worked at the same nightclub where she now performed. When she first met him, she told Goodkin, he had lived with a pornography producer in Calabasas. She thought they had also been business partners in the adult-film industry, but they had since terminated that arrangement. Cheryl didn’t know Damien’s real name was Michael Conoscenti.
Taking the officers through her extended affair with David Mahler, Cheryl told of his causing her to be fired from one club because of his belligerent, aggressive behavior there. She talked about their live-in relationship and their dispute over bail money he had provided when she was once arrested. “I paid him back,” she said, “but he didn’t think it was enough.” On May 30, he had sent a guy named Rick to the club where she worked. Rick demanded that she cough up $7,000. She had contacted Mahler, who yelled at her and insisted that she pay the money to Rick. She didn’t have it, and had been frightened ever since then.
“When was the last time you saw David Mahler?” Goodkin inquired.
She said it had been a little more than three weeks ago. He had sent her numerous e-mails and text messages threatening her, and even put scary notes on her social networking Web pages. Showing them a scar on her hand, Cheryl described the incident in which he had caused an injury by slamming a laptop computer closed, entrapping her hand.
Cheryl said she knew Kitty, the porn actress, and had seen “vicious physical fights” between her and Mahler. She had also met Stacy Tipton and said that Mahler had beaten her severely and been arrested for one such incident.
Goodkin asked Cheryl if she had ever seen Mahler take drugs. She affirmed it, saying that drug usage was routine with him, and he consumed large quantities of cocaine, meth, and alcohol. Another habit of his bothered her even more. Cheryl described David’s regular need for prostitutes, who were provided by a pimp named Atticus. She described him as an overweight black man, who lived somewhere in the South Bay region. She had never met Atticus, but she knew the name from boasts made by Mahler.
“Have you ever seen a gun in his possession?” Goodkin asked.
“Yes. About five months ago, he bought a handgun from somebody. It was a small blue steel revolver with a short barrel and brown wooden grips.” She recalled that he stored it in a nightstand next to his bed. Cheryl said she was terrified at the prospect of David owning a gun, due to his violent and unpredictable behavior. Out of fear of what he might do, she had made a point of covertly unloading it whenever she was in the house.
It had come as only a mild surprise when she heard that Mahler had been arrested for murder. A bail bondsman she knew had called her just a couple of days ago. He had expressed great relief when she answered; explaining that when he heard Mahler was accused of killing a woman, he had instantly thought it might be Cheryl.
Showing her a photo of the probable murder victim, Goodkin asked Cheryl if she recognized the woman. Yes, she said. “It’s Kristin. I saw her at David’s, now and then, in the last couple of months. One time I helped her fix her hair. We didn’t talk at great length, but she did tell me that she was struggling with finances.”
David had told Cheryl a strange tale of allowing Kristin to live at a house he owned in Long Beach, but he had been forced to evict her. Investigators would later believe that Cheryl had mistaken Kristin for some other woman in David’s stable of hookers. Nothing about the fanciful allegations could be connected to Kristin.
Ready to conclude the interview, Goodkin’s interest scale shot up again when Cheryl confided, “I’m not supposed to say anything about this, but you should talk to Damien.” She said that after they both had learned of David Mahler’s arrest, Damien had shared a secret with her. Mahler had said to him, “I need you to finish something that I started.” Assuming that David had wanted his help in collecting a drug debt, Damien had replied, “Get the fuck out of here.” But when he heard of the murder charge, he realized that Mahler had been asking for help in disposing of the victim’s body.
To be certain that Cheryl hadn’t played any part in the killing, Goodkin asked her to detail her activities on Saturday, May 26, through Sunday, May 27. She told of working at the club from ten o’clock, Saturday night, until about five, Sunday morning. But she couldn’t recall if she went directly home or to the home of a male coworker. Her memory lapse stemmed from being “very drunk” and angry that she hadn’t earned enough money in tips from stripping and doing private lap dances. Asked if she had any contact with David Mahler during that time frame, she responded, “I was so pissed off and drunk that I might have called his cell phone to yell at him or relieve my own rage.” She had evidently not played any part in the tragedy in David’s bedroom.
Mention had been made by other witnesses of a green-and-white van, operated by Atticus King, often parked all night outside the Cole Crest house. Goodkin asked Cheryl if she had ever seen a van there. She answered yes, but her recollection did not correlate with King’s vehicle. Cheryl said she could think of only one person who drove a van: Edmund. She described him as a heavyset male Hispanic who had a small, dark goatee. Edmund, she said, drove a large blue van with a lot of dents and scratches. He often used it to deliver drugs to Mahler. The vehicle, she thought, had probably been damaged in relation to Edmund’s day job as a construction worker.
Complaining about another matter involving Edmund, Cheryl said that she owned a 1991 red Toyota Celica and had frequently parked it near David’s house. She had left it there for a period of time when she was unable to afford registration renewal. Spitting her words in fury, she said that David had given the car to Edmund in exchange for drugs, without her permission. About three weeks ago, she had been notified by the LASD that the vehicle had been impounded. Now it sat
collecting dust at a sheriff’s storage facility.
Another car had been the focus of a big dispute between David and Damien, said Cheryl. David had leased a BMW in his own name for Damien’s use, on the agreement that he would pay the monthly fees. Even though Damien had been unable to keep up with the payments, he had refused to give the vehicle back to David. Cheryl blurted out another eyebrow raiser. “David was so enraged, he called Atticus, trying to find someone to kill Damien.” Nothing came of it, though.
Instead, said Cheryl, David expressed his anger by ramming the gate at Damien’s place with a car. Edmund had been sent out to repair it later.
Goodkin and Wert thanked Cheryl for her cooperation and returned to the Hollywood Station. Utilizing computer research, Goodkin found that Damien Michaels, adult-film actor, was actually Michael Lewis Conoscenti (date of birth, 01-23-53).
Following up on Cheryl’s reference to the gentlemen’s club where she worked, Goodkin contacted the establishment, spoke to a security guard, and learned that Michael Conoscenti, aka Damien Michaels, was no longer employed there.
A previous run-in with the law by Conoscenti showed up in computer records. He had been on parole at one time and currently was on probation for possession of methamphetamine. Goodkin called a detective in the West Valley Division who had made the arrest and learned that Conoscenti still lived at the Gault Street address in Van Nuys.
Cheryl had complained of her red Toyota Celica being taken and stored by the police. Goodkin made inquiries seeking verification of her story. The vehicle had indeed been impounded on May 19 for unpaid parking tickets, and remained in a storage yard.
At one o’ clock that Tuesday afternoon, Vicki Bynum tried another number she had found in David Mahler’s cell phone directory. The detective reached Tara Rush. Kristin’s friend in Canoga Park had been one of the last people to see her alive. Tara said that she had met Kristin through a mutual friend about two years ago, and that Kristin had recently spent a few nights at her Canoga Park apartment. Recalling an alarming cell phone message from May 25, Tara reported that Kristin had called from Newport Beach. “She said some lawyer she was dating had abandoned her in Newport Beach. They had a fight and he left. It was scary, like she was screaming for her life.” Tara thought that Kristin had taken a cab back to the San Fernando Valley.
