making admissions. She implied that she knew of eleven murders—Hinman 1, Tate 5, LaBianca 2, Shea 1, for a total of 9—but she declined to identify the other two. It was as if she were keeping score in a baseball game.
There was a break in the questioning. It’s standard police procedure to leave a suspect alone for a while, to think about his or her answers, to provide a transition between “soft” and “hard” interrogation. It also gives the officers an opportunity to visit the can.
When McGann returned, he decided to shock Leslie some more.
Q. “Sadie has already told fifteen people in the jailhouse that she was there, that she took part in it.”
A. “That’s incredible.” Then, after a thoughtful pause, “Didn’t she mention anyone else?”
Q. “No. Except for Charlie. And Katie.”
A. “She mentioned Charlie and Katie?”
Q. “That’s right.”
A. “That’s pretty nauseating.”
Q. “She said Katie was there, and I know it was Marnie Reeves, and you know it was Marnie Reeves.”
At this point, McGann later told me, Leslie nodded her head affirmatively.
Q. “Sadie also said, ‘I went out the next night and killed two more people, out in the hills.’”
A. “
Leslie was astonished. With good reason. Though we were as yet unaware of it, Leslie knew Susan Atkins had never entered the LaBianca residence. She knew that because she was one of the persons who had.
After this, Leslie refused to answer any further questions. McGann asked her why.
A. “Because if Zero was suddenly found playing Russian roulette I could be found playing Russian roulette.”
Q. “We’ll give you twenty-four-hour protection from now on.”
A.
From Leslie we learned that three girls had gone to the Tate residence: Sadie, Katie, and Linda. We also learned that Linda was “one girl who didn’t murder someone,” the clear implication being that the two other girls had. Beyond Leslie’s limited description of Linda, however, we knew nothing about her.
We also knew that Katie was “Marnie Reeves.” According to her Inyo arrest sheet, she was five feet six, weighed 120 pounds, had brown hair and blue eyes. Her photograph revealed a not very attractive girl, with very long hair and a somewhat mannish face. She looked older than twenty-two, the age she gave. In comparing the Barker and Spahn photos, it was discovered that she had been arrested in the earlier raid also, at that time giving the name “Mary Ann Scott.” It was possible that “Katie,” “Marnie Reeves,” and “Mary Ann Scott” were all three aliases. She had been released a few days after her arrest at Barker, and her current whereabouts were unknown.
In return, Leslie had learned a few things from McGann: that Tex, Katie, and Linda were still free; and, more important, that Susan Atkins, aka Sadie Mae Glutz, was the snitch.
Even with a “keep away” on the girls, it wouldn’t be long before this information got back to Manson.
NOVEMBER 27–30, 1969
We could have used a private line between Independence and L.A.; Fowles and I were averaging easily a dozen calls a day. Thus far, no attempt to meet Manson’s bail, or any sign of Tex or Bruce. However, there were reporters all over Independence, and KNXT was sending in a camera crew tomorrow to film Golar Wash. I had Lieutenant Hagen call the TV station. They told him they didn’t plan to use the film until Monday, the first, the agreed date, but wouldn’t promise an extension to Wednesday, which I wanted.
Although nothing had seen print, the leaks continued. Chief Davis was enraged; he wanted to break the news himself. Someone was talking, and he wanted to know who. Determined to catch the culprit, he suggested that everyone working on the case, at LAPD and in the DA’s Office, take a polygraph.
Even his own office ignored the suggestion, and I resisted the impulse to suggest that we concentrate on catching the killers instead.
On Saturday, Sergeant Patchett interviewed Gregg Jakobson. A talent scout, who was married to the daughter of old-time comedian Lou Costello, Jakobson had first met Charles Manson about May 1968, at the Sunset Boulevard home of Dennis Wilson, one of the Beach Boys rock group.
It was Jakobson who had introduced Manson to Terry Melcher, Doris Day’s son, while Melcher was still living at 10050 Cielo Drive. In addition to producing his mother’s TV show, Melcher was involved in a number of other enterprises, including a record company, and Jakobson had attempted to persuade him to record Manson. After listening to him play and sing, Melcher had said no.
Though Melcher had been unimpressed by Manson, Jakobson had been fascinated with the “whole Charlie Manson package,” songs, philosophy, life style. Over a period of about a year and a half, he’d had many talks with Manson. Charlie loved to rap about his views on life, Gregg said, but Patchett wasn’t particularly interested in this, and moved on to other subjects.
Did he know a Charles “Tex” Montgomery? Patchett asked. Yes, very well, Jakobson replied; only his real name wasn’t Montgomery—it was Watson.
Sunday, November 30. At LAPD from 8:30 A.M. to midnight.
Charles Denton Watson had been arrested in Van Nuys, California, on April 23, 1969, for being on drugs. Though he had been released the next day, he had been fingerprinted at the time of his arrest.
10:30 A.M. Latent Prints Section called Lieutenant Helder. The print of Watson’s right ring finger matched a latent found on the front door of the Tate residence.
Helder and I jumped up and down like little kids. This was the first physical evidence connecting the suspects to the crime scene.
Helder sent out fifteen detectives to see if they could locate Watson at any of his old addresses, but they had no luck. They did learn, however, that Watson was from a small town in Texas, McKinney.
Checking an atlas, we found that McKinney was in Collin County. Patchett called the sheriff of Collin, informing him that a former local resident, Charles Denton Watson, was wanted for 187 PC, murder, in California.
The sheriff’s name was Tom Montgomery. A coincidence, Watson’s using as alias the last name of the local sheriff? It was more than that: Sheriff Montgomery was Watson’s second cousin.
“Charles is living here now,” Sheriff Montgomery said. “He has an apartment in Denton. I’ll bring him in.”
The sheriff, we later learned, called Watson’s uncle, Maurice Montgomery, saying, “Can you bring Charles over to the jail? We’ve got some trouble.”
Maurice picked up his nephew and drove him to McKinney in his pickup truck. “He didn’t say much on the way,” the uncle later said. “I didn’t know what it was all about, but I guess he knew all the time.”
Watson supposedly refused comment and was lodged in the local jail.
Texans are straight shooters, LAPD told me. They’ll hold him until we get around to sending an arrest warrant.
Not wanting to take any chances, I suggested we send someone to McKinney with the warrant, and it was decided that Sartuchi and Nielsen would leave at eleven the next morning.
