And several times—she believed it was in July, about a month before the Tate-LaBianca murders—Manson had also told them, “
The interview lasted several hours. One thing Dianne said struck me as very sad. Squeaky, Sandy, and the other girls in the Family could never love anyone else, not even their parents, she told me. “Why not?” I asked. “Because,” she replied, “they’ve given all their love to Charlie.”
I left Patton with the very strong feeling that Dianne Lake had now escaped that fate.
In court on June 9, Manson suddenly turned in his chair so his back was to the judge. “The Court has shown me no respect,” Manson said, “so I am going to show the Court the same thing.” When Manson refused to face the Court, Judge Older, after several warnings, had the bailiffs remove him from the courtroom. He was taken to the lockup adjoining the court, which was equipped with a speaker system so he could hear, though not participate in, the proceedings.
Although Older gave him several opportunities to return, on the understanding that he would agree to conduct himself properly, Manson rejected them.
We had not given up in our attempt to have Irving Kanarek taken off the case. On June 10, I filed a motion requesting an evidentiary hearing on the Kanarek-Hughes substitution. The thrust of my motion: Manson did not have the constitutional right to have Kanarek as his lawyer.
The right of counsel of one’s choice, I argued, was not an unlimited, unqualified, absolute right. This right was given to defendants seeking a favorable verdict for themselves. It was obvious from Manson’s statements that he wasn’t picking Kanarek for this reason, but rather to subvert, thwart, and paralyze the due and proper administration of justice. “And we submit that he cannot use the right to counsel of his choice in such an ignoble fashion.”
Kanarek responded that he would be glad to let the Court read the transcripts of his cases, to see if he used dilatory tactics. I thought I saw Judge Older wince at this, but I wasn’t sure. Older’s somber expression rarely changed. It was very difficult to guess what he was thinking.
In researching Kanarek’s record, I had learned something which was not part of my hour-long argument. For all his filibustering, disconnected ramblings, senseless motions, and wild, irresponsible charges, Irving Kanarek frequently scored points. He noted, for example, that our office hadn’t tried to challenge Ronald Hughes, who had never tried a case before, on the grounds that his representation might hurt Manson. And, in conclusion, Kanarek, very much to the point, asked that the prosecution’s motion be struck “on the basis there is no basis for it in law.”
I’d frankly admitted this in my argument, but had noted that this was “a situation so aggravated that it literally cries out to the Court to take a pioneer stand.”
Judge Older disagreed. My motion for an evidentiary hearing was denied.
Although District Attorney Younger had Older’s ruling appealed to the California Supreme Court, it was let stand. Though we had tried to save the taxpayers perhaps several million dollars and everyone involved a great deal of time and unnecessary effort, Irving Kanarek would remain on the Tate-LaBianca cases just as long as Charles Manson wanted him.
“If Your Honor does not respect Mr. Manson’s rights, you need not respect mine,” Susan Atkins said, rising and turning her back to the Court. Leslie Van Houten and Patricia Krenwinkel followed suit. When Older suggested that the defense attorneys confer with their clients, Fitzgerald admitted that would do little good, “because there is a minimum of client control in this case.” After several warnings, Older had the girls removed to one of the vacant jury rooms upstairs, and a speaker was placed there also.
I had mixed feelings about all this. If the girls parroted Manson’s actions during the trial, it would be additional evidence of his domination. However, their removal from the courtroom might also be considered reversible error on appeal, and the last thing we wanted was to have to try the whole case over again.
Under the current law,
I mentioned this to Older, suggesting that some type of telephonic communication be set up. Older felt it unnecessary.
After the noon recess the girls professed a willingness to return. Speaking for all three, Patricia Krenwinkel told Older, “We should be able to be present at this play here.”
To Krenwinkel it was just that—a play. Remaining standing, she turned her back to the bench. Atkins and Van Houten immediately mimicked her. Older again ordered all three removed.
Bringing all the defendants back into court the next day, Judge Older warned them that if they persisted in their conduct before a jury, they could badly jeopardize their cases. “So I would ask you to seriously reconsider what you are doing, because I think you are hurting yourselves.” After again attempting to revert to pro per status, Manson said, “O.K., then you leave me nothing. You can kill me now.”
Still standing, Manson bowed his head and stretched out his arms in a crucifixion pose. The girls quickly emulated him. When the deputies attempted to seat them, all resisted, Manson ending up scuffling with a deputy on the floor. Two deputies bodily carried him to the lockup, while the matrons took the girls out.
KANAREK “I would ask medical assistance for Mr. Manson, Your Honor.”
THE COURT “I will ask the bailiff to check and see if he needs any. If he does, he will get it.”
He didn’t. Once in the lockup, out of sight of the press and spectators, Manson became an entirely different person. He donned another mask, that of the complaisant prisoner. Having spent more than half his life in reformatories and prisons, he knew the role all too well. Thoroughly “institutionalized,” he played by the rules, rarely causing trouble in the jail itself.
After the noon recess we had several examples of Kanarek in action. Arguing a search- and-seizure motion, he said that Manson’s arrest was illegal because “Mr. Caballero and Mr. Bugliosi conspired to have Miss Atkins make certain statements” and that “the District Attorney’s Office suborned the perjury.”
As ridiculous as this was, subornation of perjury is an extremely serious charge, and since Kanarek was making it in open court, in front of the press, I reacted accordingly.
BUGLIOSI “Your Honor, if Mr. Kanarek is going to have diarrhea of the mouth, I think he should make an offer of proof back in chambers. This man is totally irresponsible. I urgently request the Court we go back in chambers. God knows what this man is going to say next.”
THE COURT “Confine yourself to the argument, Mr. Kanarek.”
The argument, when Kanarek did eventually get around to making it, left even the other defense attorneys looking stunned. Kanarek stated that since “the warrant of arrest for the defendant Manson was based on illegally obtained and perjured testimony, therefore the seizure of the person of Mr. Manson was illegal. The person of Mr. Manson must, therefore, be suppressed from evidence.”
While I was wondering how you could suppress a person, Kanarek provided an answer: he asked that “that piece of physical evidence which is Mr. Manson’s physical body” not “be before the Court conceptually to be used in evidence.” Presumably, by Kanarek’s convoluted logic, witnesses shouldn’t even be allowed to identify Manson.
Older denied the motion.
Another aspect of Irving Kanarek was exhibited that day: a suspicious distrust that at times bordered on paranoia. The prosecution had told the Court that we would not introduce Susan Atkins’ grand jury testimony in the trial. One would think the introduction of this testimony—in which Susan stated that Charles Manson ordered the Tate-LaBianca murders—would have been the last thing Manson’s attorney would want in evidence. But Kanarek, suddenly wary, charged that if we weren’t using those statements, “they must be tainted in some way.”
