I have been trained to deal with facts and to analyze the known. I have the added insight that comes from being the son of George Hodel. My contact with killers has always been divided by a cell door. On the outside, looking in, cop to suspect, detective to defendant.
Not so with this investigation. I have watched my Father through many eyes. Watched him through the innocent eyes of a child. Watched him with the naivete of an adolescent about to become a man. In my twenties, we drank, whored, and played high-stakes poker. I watched him charm, manipulate, and control his many women. In my thirties, I sat with him in business interviews, saw him misjudge men and misread their abilities. Finally, as he became old, I saw our relationship change, and as he weakened, he softened. It was evolutional. Only in his eighties did I become the stronger, quicker animal: such was the power of this man.
In all of our years, in our in-and-out existence, broken as it was by decades of time, never once did I glimpse Father's evilness. In a Sexton you could see it. The evil was etched in his face and in his eyes, the windows of his tortured soul. But not in George Hodel. Vanity, megalomania, womanizing, and even the emotional instability— all could be found with relative ease. But never his evil. And that is precisely what made F ather so terribly dangerous.
In all my years dealing with the evil that men do, I have never known such a man. From my old Hollywood murder investigations, two separate murderers, two 'dead men walking,' await their executions on Death Row. Both are terribly evil men, but their crimes pale when compared to my father's psychotic mayhem.
Can it not be argued that to some degree all of us may have a capacity for evil? Does this dark side not lie hidden in us all, held in check by a moral gyroscope and a healthy respect for the law?
My father was a prodigy. A genius. In the chaos that roiled Asia in the years right after the war, he saved many peoples' lives. He also perpetrated one of the most infamous and bloody crimes in the history of Los Angeles, and kept right on killing. I have just returned from the horrors of my father's private hell and now know and am convinced that nothing more than a hair trigger separates the heaven of a Dr. Schweitzer from the hell of a Dr. Hodel.
Author's Postscript
I HAVE JUST COMPLETED THE FINAL REVISIONS of this manuscript. Within the past few months, new evidence and new information, new thoughtprints have been found. I will follow those leads from without, as I continue to be guided from within.
Steve Hodel
December 2002
Hollywood, California
Reference no.:
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Acknowledgments
THE PREPARATION OF THIS BOOK has been most difficult, not only because of the obvious personal conflicts that arose from the discovery of each new murder, which like distress beacons kept rising to the surface in a sea of crimes, but also because of my new and unexpected role as narrator, and the
A number of people need to be recognized for their help in telling the story. Most were unaware of their assistance, but all should now know that their individual contribution, small or large, aided me in piecing together the many scattered thoughtprints.
First is Roberta McCreary, who as friend/confidante/researcher was at my side and in the loop from the very beginning. Roberta shared my shocks and sorrows, and her diligence and careful review of hundreds of microfilm articles at UCLA and other Los Angeles libraries unquestionably resulted in many murders being found that would otherwise have gone unnoticed. No crime investigator could ask for a better 'partner.'
In Sydney, Australia, my deep gratitude goes to the constant and true friendship of Murray and Jodi Rose, who sent their strength and love from Down Under.
In Bellingham, Washington, a special thanks to my good friends: Dennis, Dave, Debra, Ruth, Barbara, and Joanie at the law firm of Anderson, Connell, and Murphy, for their mutual support. Dennis's dual role as personal friend and objective counselor provided much necessary balance. A big hug and thank you to attorney Jill Bernstein for her further support and encouragement along the bumpy road. To my ex-wife, Marsha, the mother of my children, who kept her word and respected my need for confidentiality, my heartfelt thanks. To longtime friend and mystery writer Mark Schorr in Portland, many thanks for the jump-starts. Professional kudos to my forensic expert Hannah McFarland in Seattle, who, along with her handwriting analysis, provided me with new insights into her specialized field.
In Los Angeles, to Head Deputy District Attorney Stephen Kay, whom I have known and respected as a professional colleague for thirty years, I say: Stephen, your contributions to the case have been inestimable. Thank you for your time, objectivity, ethics, and decades of dedicated public service to our city.
To my ex-ex-wife, Carole Hodel, and Ron Wong, thank you both for your help and encouragement. Gracias to my ex-partner Bill Everheart and his wife Judy for providing me with some 'retreat time' in their beautiful Big Bear home.
To my literary agent, Bill Birnes, and his wife, Nancy, a special thanks for their early recognition of the importance of the story, at a time when not all the evidence was in, and for Bill's persistence in helping find the right publisher.
Special thanks to my editors/publishers, Dick and Jeannette Seaver, at Arcade Publishing. Dick's Herculean labors, experienced editing, reorganization, substitution of happier words and cleaner structure, and translation of 'cop report writing' into a more palatable language have been invaluable. Arcade editor Greg Comer also deserves thanks for his diligence and dedication throughout the long editing process.
My deep gratitude to those who contributed so much without knowing: 'Mary Moe,' 'Bill Buck,' Kirk Mellecker, Myrl McBride, and my mother's old and my newfound friend, Joe Barrett.
Thank you, sister Tamar. Know that my heart is filled with joy now that
