is like one big intercourse—everything is in and out—smoking, eating, stabbing”); how she would play crazy to fool the psychiatrists (“All you have to do is act normal,” Ronnie advised her); children (Charlie had helped deliver her baby, whom she had named Zezozose Zadfrack Glutz; within a couple of months after his birth she had begun fellating him); bikers (with the motorcycle gangs on their side, they “would really throw some fear into the world”); and murder. Susan loved to talk about murder. “More you do it, the better you like it.” Just the mention of it seemed to excite her. Laughingly, she told Ronnie about some man whose head “we cut off,” either out in the desert or in one of the canyons.
She also told Ronnie, “There are eleven murders that they will never solve.” And there were going to be more, many more. Although Charlie was in jail “in Indio,” most of the Family was still free.
As Susan talked, Ronnie Howard realized that there were still some things that could shock her. One was that this little girl, who was twenty-one but often seemed much younger, probably
Ronnie Howard would later state: “I’d never informed on anyone in the past, but this one thing I could not go along with. I kept thinking that if I didn’t say anything these people would probably be set free. They were going to pick other houses, just at random. I just couldn’t see all those innocent people being killed. It could have been my house next time or yours or anyone’s.”
Ronnie decided she “just had to tell the police.”
It would seem that if one were in jail, talking to a policeman would be relatively easy. Ronnie Howard discovered otherwise.
The dates, again, are vague, but, according to Ronnie, she told +Sergeant Broom,[19] one of the female deputies at Sybil Brand, that she knew who had committed the Tate and LaBianca murders; that the person who told her had been involved and was now in custody; but that the other killers were on the loose and unless they were apprehended soon there would be more murders. Ronnie wanted permission to call LAPD.
Sergeant Broom said she would pass the request to her superior, +Lieutenant Johns.
After waiting three days and hearing nothing, Ronnie asked Seargeant Broom about the request. Lieutenant Johns didn’t think there was anything to the story, the sergeant told her. By this time the lieutenant had probably forgotten all about it, Sergeant Broom said, adding, “Why don’t you do the same thing, Ronnie?”
By now, according to Ronnie, she was literally begging. People were going to die unless she warned the police in time. Could you call
It was against the rules for a guard to make a call for an inmate, Sergeant Broom informed her.
On Thursday, November 13, biker Danny DeCarlo came down to Parker Center, where he was interviewed by the LaBianca detectives. It was not a long interview, and it was not taped. Although DeCarlo had a great deal of information about the activities of Manson and his group, having lived with them for more than five months, at no time had Charlie admitted to him that he was involved in either the Tate or the LaBianca murders.
This made the officers even more skeptical about Springer’s tale, and it was probably at this point that they decided to write him off as a reliable source. When Springer came back the following week, he was given some photos to identify but was asked few questions.
Arrangements were made to interview DeCarlo on tape, and at length, on Monday, November 17. He was to come in about 8:30 in the morning.
Ronnie Howard kept after Sergeant Broom, who finally mentioned the subject to Lieutenant Johns a second time. The lieutenant suggested that she ask Ronnie for some details.
Sergeant Broom did, and Ronnie—still without identifying the people involved—told her a little of what she had learned. The killers knew Terry Melcher. They had shot the boy, Steven Parent, first, four times, because he saw them. Sharon Tate had been the last to die. The word “pig” had been written in her blood. They were going to cut out Sharon’s baby, but didn’t. Again she stressed that more killings were planned.
Sergeant Broom apparently misunderstood Ronnie, for she told Lieutenant Johns that they
Your informant is lying, Sergeant Broom informed Ronnie, and told her why.
Ronnie, now almost hysterical, told Sergeant Broom that she had misunderstood what she’d said. Could she talk to Lieutenant Johns herself?
But Sergeant Broom decided that she had already bothered the lieutenant enough. As far as she was concerned, she informed Ronnie, the matter was closed.
There was an irony here, although Ronnie Howard was unaware of it, and wouldn’t have appreciated it had she known: Sergeant Broom dated one of the Tate detectives. But apparently they had other, more important things to talk about.
Virginia Graham was having her own troubles with bureaucracy. Although, unlike Ronnie Howard, she was not yet completely convinced that Susan Atkins was telling the truth, the possibility that there might be more murders worried her too. On November 14, two days after her transfer to Corona, she decided she had to tell someone what she had heard. There was one person at the prison she knew and trusted, Dr. Vera Dreiser, a staff psychologist.
In order for an inmate to talk to a staff member at Corona, it is necessary to fill out a “blue slip,” or request form. Virginia made one out, writing on it, “Dr. Dreiser, it is very important that I speak with you.”
The form was returned with a notation stating that Miss Graham should fill out another blue slip, to see Dr. Owens, administrator of the unit to which she was assigned. But Virginia didn’t want to speak to Dr. Owens. Again she requested a personal interview with Dr. Dreiser.
The request was granted. But not until December. And by then the whole world knew what Virginia Graham had wanted to tell Dr. Dreiser.
NOVEMBER 17, 1969
Danny DeCarlo was due at LAPD Homicide at 8:30 that Monday morning. He didn’t show. The detectives called his home first, getting no answer, then his mother’s number. No, she hadn’t seen Danny, and she was a little worried. Danny was supposed to leave his son with her, so she could baby-sit while he went down to LAPD, but hadn’t even called.
It was possible DeCarlo had skipped. He had been very frightened when the detectives talked to him the previous Thursday.
There was another possibility, one that they didn’t want to think about.
That same day Ronnie Howard had a court appearance in Santa Monica, on the forgery charge. When inmates of Sybil Brand are due in court, they are first transported to the men’s jail on Bouchet Street, where a bus picks them up and delivers them to the assigned departments. Before the arrival of the bus, there are usually a few minutes during which each girl is permitted to make one call from a pay phone.
Ronnie saw her chance and got in line. However, time began running out and there were still two girls ahead of her. She paid each fifty cents to let her call first.
Ronnie called the Beverly Hills Police Department and asked to speak to a homicide detective. When one came on the line, she gave him her name and booking number, and told him she knew who had committed the Tate and LaBianca murders. The officer said those cases were being handled by the Hollywood Division of LAPD, and suggested she call there.
Ronnie then called Hollywood PD, giving a second homicide officer the same information. He wanted to send
