Manson, however, did enter the Waverly Drive residence the next night, to tie up Rosemary and Leno LaBianca. He then sent in Watson, Krenwinkel, and Leslie Van Houten, aka Sankston, with instructions to “kill them.”
Susan Atkins herself hadn’t been inside the LaBianca residence. She had remained in the car with Clem and Linda. But she had heard—from Manson, Krenwinkel, and Van Houten—what had occurred inside.
Though the tape cleared up some mysteries, many remained. And there were discrepancies. For example, although Susan admitted stabbing the big man (Frykowski) five or six times, “in self-defense,” she said nothing about stabbing Sharon Tate. In contrast to what she had told Virginia Graham and Ronnie Howard, Susan now claimed that she had held Sharon while Tex stabbed her.
Returning to my office, I did what I do after every interview—converted my notes into a tentative interrogation. I had a lot of questions I wanted to ask Sadie Mae Glutz.
Linda Kasabian waived extradition proceedings and was flown back to Los Angeles that same day. She was booked into Sybil Brand at 11:15 P.M. Aaron was there, as was Linda’s attorney, Gary Fleischman. Though Fleischman permitted her to ID some photographs of various Family members which Aaron had, he would not let Aaron question her. Aaron did ask her how she felt, and she replied, “Tired, but relieved.” Aaron got the impression that Linda herself was anxious to tell what she knew but that Fleischman was holding out for a deal.
DECEMBER 4, 1969
A meeting was held today in Mr. Younger’s office, commencing at 10:20 A.M. and concluding at 11 A.M. Present at the meeting were Mr. Younger, Paul Caruso, Richard Caballero, Aaron Stovitz and Vincent Bugliosi.
Discussion was had as to whether or not immunity should be given to Susan Atkins in exchange for her testimony at the Grand Jury hearing and subsequent trial. It was decided that she would
Mr. Caballero made it known that at this moment his client may not testify at the trial due to her fear of the physical presence of Charles Manson and the other participants in the Sharon Tate murders.
Discussion was held concerning the value of Susan Atkins’ testimony. Agreement was reached upon the following points:
1. That Susan Atkins’ information has been vital to law enforcement.
2. In view of her past cooperation and in the event that she testifies truthfully at the Grand Jury, the prosecution will not seek the death penalty against her in any of the three cases that are now known to the police; namely, the Hinman murder, the Sharon Tate murders, and the LaBianca murders.
3. The extent to which the District Attorney’s Office will assist Defense Counsel in an attempt to seek less than a first degree murder, life sentence, will depend upon the extent to which Susan Atkins continues to cooperate.
4. That in the event that Susan Atkins does not testify at the trial or that the prosecution does not use her as a witness at the trial, the prosecution will not use her testimony, given at the Grand Jury, against her.
Caballero had made an excellent deal, as far as his client was concerned. If she testified truthfully before the grand jury, we could not seek the death penalty against her in the Hinman, Tate, and LaBianca cases; nor could we use her grand jury testimony against her or any of her co-defendants when they were brought to trial. As Caballero later put it, “She gave up nothing and got everything in return.”
For our part, I felt we got very much the short end. Susan Atkins would tell her story at the grand jury. We’d get an indictment. And that would be all we would have, a scrap of paper. For Caballero was convinced she would never testify at the trial. He was worried that even now she might suddenly change her mind.
We had no choice but to rush the case to the grand jury, which was meeting the following day.
Our case was getting a little stronger. The previous day Sergeant Sam McLarty of the Mobile Police Department had taken Patricia Krenwinkel’s prints. On receiving the exemplar from Mobile, Sergeant Frank Marz of LAPD “made” one print. The print of the little finger on Krenwinkel’s left hand matched a latent print officer Boen had lifted from the frame on the left French door
We now had a second piece of physical evidence linking still another of the suspects to the crime scene.
But we didn’t have either suspect. Like Watson, Krenwinkel intended to fight extradition. She would be held fourteen days without bond. If extradition papers were not there before the fifteenth day, she would be released.
Caballero drove me to his office in Beverly Hills. By the time we arrived, about 5:30 P.M., Susan Atkins was already there, having been taken out of Sybil Brand on the basis of another court order, requested by Aaron. Caballero had suggested that Susan would be much more apt to speak freely with me in the relaxed atmosphere of his office than at Sybil Brand, and Miller Leavy, Aaron, and I had agreed.
Although she had opened up to both Virginia Graham and Ronnie Howard, my interview with Susan Atkins on the Tate-LaBianca murders was the first she had had with any law-enforcement officer. It would also be the last.
Twenty-one years old, five feet five, 120 pounds, long brown hair, brown eyes, a not unattractive face, but with a distant, far-off look, similar to the expressions of Sandy and Squeaky but even more pronounced.
Although this was the first time I had seen Susan Atkins, I already knew quite a bit about her. Born in San Gabriel, California, she had grown up in San Jose. Her mother had died of cancer while Susan was still in her teens, and, after numerous quarrels with her father, she’d dropped out of high school and drifted to San Francisco. Hustler, topless dancer, kept woman, gun moll—she’d been all these things even before meeting Charles Manson. I had a certain amount of pity for her. I tried my best to understand her. But I couldn’t summon up very much compassion, not after having seen the photographs of what had been done to the Tate victims.
After Caballero introduced us, I informed her of her constitutional rights and obtained permission to interview her.
A male and female deputy sheriff sat just outside the open door of Caballero’s office, watching Susan’s every move. Caballero remained for most of the interview, leaving only to take a few phone calls. I had Susan tell me the whole story, from the time she first met Manson in Haight-Ashbury in 1967 to the present. Periodically I’d halt her narrative to ask questions.
“Were you, Tex, or any of the others under the influence of LSD or any other drug on the night of the Tate murders?”
“No.”
“What about the next night, the night the LaBiancas were killed?”
“No. Neither night.”
There was something mysterious about her. She would talk rapidly for a few minutes, then pause, head slightly cocked to the side, as if sensing voices no one else could.
“You know,” she confided, “Charlie is looking at us right now and he can hear everything we are saying.”
