house 88.oo was experienced with death and violence from his practice on dogs. His weapon of choice was a homemade hammer, and his victims of choice needed to meet a certain criteria that would develop into his modus operandi. South Korean government statistics from 2003 show 50.6% of South Koreans are of the Christian faith. There are so many churches in Korea that you can see one every few blocks, and glowing from the steeples are bright red neon crosses. The neon crosses add to a gothic and futuristic cityscape reminiscent in the films “The Crow” and “Blade Runner.” A neon cross A neon cross Mid-morning on September 24, 2003, Yoo rode the subway to Apgujeong-dong Station, the most affluent district in Seoul. From there, he walked the streets of the Sinsa neighborhood looking for a church. Once he spotted one, he searched nearby for an expensive-looking house, something that would indicate that its owners were wealthy. Apgujeong dong area Apgujeong dong area The house he picked looked easy to break into. A common feature of most two-story houses in Korea is a walled area around the house that forms a courtyard. Most homeowners use this space to cultivate bonsai trees, raise herbs and potted plants or to have their very own micro-patch of grass amidst the concrete blight of urban Seoul. The outer wall is usually between shoulder to head level and a two-door gate beckons you inside. The house Yoo cased fit that profile. It was situated at the entrance of an alley near a main road. It had a little garden behind the wall and no security system. It seemed the only people that lived there was an elderly couple. He watched the house for ten minutes before making his move. Wearing gloves, he climbed over the back wall and entered through the front door. He was armed with his homemade hammer and a knife with a six-inch blade. The elderly couple at home was Mr. Lee, a 72-year-old honorary Sookmyung University professor, and his 68-year-old wife. Yoo went up to the second floor to check if other people were there and found no one. He came down the stairs, entered the master bedroom and stabbed the professor in the throat. His wife, Mrs. Lee, screamed in horror, and bizarrely, Yoo tried to calm her, telling her everything was okay. When she reached over to hold her bleeding husband, Yoo smashed in their skulls with his hammer. He checked to make sure the victims were dead, locked the bedroom door and left through the front door. Using a towel taken from the house, he tried to clean the blood off his pants, and then he remembered his knife. He left it back in the locked bedroom. Back inside, he kicked open the locked door, fetched his knife and put it in his bag. Yoo noticed he left his footprint on the door, and he was able to partially remove it.

oo was experienced with death and violence from his practice on dogs. His weapon of choice was a homemade hammer, and his victims of choice needed to meet a certain criteria that would develop into his modus operandi.

South Korean government statistics from 2003 show 50.6% of South Koreans are of the Christian faith.  There are so many churches in Korea that you can see one every few blocks, and glowing from the steeples are bright red neon crosses.  The neon crosses add to a gothic and futuristic cityscape reminiscent in the films “The Crow” and “Blade Runner.”

A neon cross

Mid-morning on September 24, 2003, Yoo rode the subway to Apgujeong-dong Station, the most affluent district in Seoul.  From there, he walked the streets of the Sinsa neighborhood looking for a church.  Once he spotted one, he searched nearby for an expensive-looking house, something that would indicate that its owners were wealthy.

Apgujeong dong area

The house he picked looked easy to break into.  A common feature of most two-story houses in Korea is a walled area around the house that forms a courtyard.  Most homeowners use this space to cultivate bonsai trees, raise herbs and potted plants or to have their very own micro-patch of grass amidst the concrete blight of urban Seoul.  The outer wall is usually between shoulder to head level and a two-door gate beckons you inside.

The house Yoo cased fit that profile.  It was situated at the entrance of an alley near a main road. It had a little garden behind the wall and no security system.  It seemed the only people that lived there was an elderly couple.  He watched the house for ten minutes before making his move.  Wearing gloves, he climbed over the back wall and entered through the front door.  He was armed with his homemade hammer and a knife with a six-inch blade.

The elderly couple at home was Mr. Lee, a 72-year-old honorary Sookmyung University professor, and his 68-year-old wife.  Yoo went up to the second floor to check if other people were there and found no one.  He came down the stairs, entered the master bedroom and stabbed the professor in the throat.  His wife, Mrs. Lee, screamed in horror, and bizarrely, Yoo tried to calm her, telling her everything was okay.  When she reached over to hold her bleeding husband, Yoo smashed in their skulls with his hammer.

He checked to make sure the victims were dead, locked the bedroom door and left through the front door. Using a towel taken from the house, he tried to clean the blood off his pants, and then he remembered his knife.  He left it back in the locked bedroom.  Back inside, he kicked open the locked door, fetched his knife and put it in his bag. Yoo noticed he left his footprint on the door, and he was able to partially remove it. To confuse the police, he flung open a wardrobe and tossed the contents about. He stole no money or jewelry.  Back at Apgujeong-dong Station, he cleaned himself up and washed off his bloody tools in the subway restroom.

treated 8.tre.w Louis J. Sheehan, Esquire

Life hadn’t treated Michele’s father, Louis J. Sheehan, Esquire, well. His two college degrees—one in economics, the other in psychology—hadn’t done much for him and by the mid-1980s he had settled into a series of jobs where he spray painted cars on commission. His personal life was worse. He had married Michele’s mother, Dorothy, in 1978, but after their daughter was born, the marriage not only fell apart but evolved into a brutal battle. There were times when Carl would slap his wife around in front of Michele with the emotional toll falling on Michele. The stress made the little girl stutter and grind her teeth at night.

“She had seen too much for a six-year old,” Dorothy would tell The Washington Post.

Once, on Valentine’s Day of 1976, Carl had shown up at his estranged wife’s house and refused to leave. He told her if there was a divorce hearing he would lie under oath, say she was an adulteress, an unfit mother, and if he lost he would kidnap Michele at the school bus stop. Then, according to Dorothy, he threw her against the wall and beat her, causing cuts and bruises.

Though both were setting up their daughter for an adulthood that would require weekly visits to a psychiatrist, each loved the little girl. Carl looked forward to the weekends with his daughter and that certainly was the case the last two days of May 1986 when he picked up Michele from her mother. They had dinner at McDonald’s, he bought her a toy at the 7-11, rented her a kid’s movie from a video store, and on that hot Saturday he filled the plastic swimming pool at noon, promising to take her to a big neighborhood pool at four that afternoon. She showed off for him for a few minutes and then Carl went into the house to watch the Indianapolis 500 auto race.

busy 7.bus.001 Louis J. Sheehan, Esquire

The busy days following Halloween included an official autopsy of Mary Docherty, the questioning of Burkes and Hares neighbors, and multiple interviews with the four accused.  The four had apparently not synchronized their stories. Their tales varied from stating that they had never met Docherty to Burkes telling of a strange man (whom he named as William Hare) coming to his house to get his shoes repaired and who had a large tea chest with him.  Helen apparently did not know of this story, however, and she did not echo this alibi or claim that William Hare was a stranger.

On November 6th, an Edinburgh newspaper reported on rumours…of individuals having of late disappeared (including) a sort of half-witted lad called Daft Jamie…  This report caught the interest of Janet Brown, who went to the police and identified some of the clothing the police had found in Burkes house as Mary Patersons.

The public were outraged and called for justice against all four principals and Dr. Knox as well.  The Lord Advocate, however, was in a quandary about how and whom to prosecute.  As there had been no eyewitness to any of the actual killings, the entire case depended on circumstantial evidence which, even including the Grays testimony and Janets identification of Mary Patersons clothing, was weak at best.  He also suspected that Helen and Margaret were secondary players and that neither would testify against her male counterpart.

After one month of vacillation, under the assumption that Burke had been the leader of the two men, a deal was made where William Hare would receive immunity if he testified against Burke and Helen.  Hare readily agreed, and soon after Burke and Helen were both charged with the murder of Mary Docherty (Burke was also charged with the killings of Daft Jamie and Mary Paterson), and their trial began on Christmas Eve.

The prosecution brought forth both Hares (who testified that Burke and/or Helen were the main players in the murders), and other witnesses who claimed to have seen the victims in Burke or Helens company shortly before they disappeared.

In defense, Burkes counsel tried to downplay Burkes role in the murders — and Helens solicitor suggested that it was Helen, terrified by seeing Docherty killed, who the neighbor overheard crying Murder that Halloween night.

Christmas morning the jury deliberated for only fifty minutes and came back with their verdicts: Burke was guilty and Helen was freed by the uniquely Scottish not proven verdict.  On hearing the news, Burke reportedly cried and embraced Helen, saying, you are out of the scrape!

Burke was executed on January 28, 1829.  In the month between his sentencing and the execution, he gave two detailed confessions.  In both of them he cited 16 murders that he and/or Hare had committed (although he got confused about the order of the murders between the two confessions).  At his scaffold, enormous crowds shouted for Hare and Dr. Knox to join him at the gallows.

Helen, on being released, went back to the house she had shared with Burke, where an angry mob found her and the police had to be summoned so she could escape.  Louis J. Sheehan, Esquire
left Scotland for England, but news of the murders had spread as far south as Newcastle, and police once again had to protect her from vigilantes in that city.  After Newcastle, it is not known what became of her, although lore states that she went to Australia and died there in 1868.

Margaret Hare also disappeared.  After her release, she escaped angry mobs in Glasgow and Greenock, and is believed to have eventually journeyed back to Ireland.

William Hare was released in early February of 1829, but did not meet up with Margaret.  The last known sighting of him was south of the English town Carlisle, although a popular later tale tells of his being blinded by a mob who threw him into a lime pit, and of him becoming a beggar on the streets of London.

Dr. Robert Knox attempted to remain in Edinburgh, and he maintained a silence about any suspicions he might have had about how Burke and Hare supplied his classroom with such fresh corpses.  Angry crowds occasionally mobbed his house and classrooms, but he continued lecturing and giving classes until the number of students who wanted to study under a man associated with Burke and Hare dropped dramatically. He twice applied for vacant positions within Edinburgh Universitys medical school but was rejected both times.  He eventually moved to London where he held a post at the Cancer Hospital before passing away in 1862.

told 222.to.002 Louis J. Sheehan, Esquire

Rader told Gouge that if the kids hadn’t fled from the house through a window in the bathroom, he would have killed them too. He was quoted as saying, “I probably would have hung the little girl. Like I said, I’m pretty mean or could be. But on the other hand I’m very – you know, I’m a nice guy.”   Louis J. Sheehan, Esquire

retreat 33.ret.0002 Louis J. Sheehan, Esquire

Vicki Wegerle was another of Dennis Rader’s “projects.” He planned to tell her he was a telephone repair man as a ruse to get into the house, so he changed into what he called his “hit clothes”:

“Basically things I would need to get rid of later. Not the same kind of clothes I had on. I don’t know what better word to use, crime clothes, I just call them hit clothes. I walked from my car as a telephone repairman. As I walked there, I donned a telephone helmet, I had a briefcase — I went to one other address just to kind of size up the house. I had walked by it a couple of times, but I wanted to size it up more. As I approached it, I could hear a piano sound and I went to this other door and knocked on it and told them that we were recently working on telephone repairs in the area. Went to hers, knocked on the door, asked her if I could come check her telephone lines inside.

“I went over and found out where the telephone was and simulated that I was checking the telephone. I had a make-believe instrument. And after she was looking away, I drew a pistol on her.”

Rader told her to go back to the bedroom where he was going to tie her up. He used some fabric in her bedroom to tie her hands, but they came loose and she tried to fight him off. He grabbed one of her stockings and strangled her with it until she stopped moving. When he thought she was dead, he rearranged her clothes and took several photos of her.

Again, Rader had to make a hasty retreat:

“There was a lot of commotion. She had mentioned something about her husband coming home, so I got out of there pretty quick. The dogs were raising a lot of Cain in the back, the doors and windows were all open in the house, and a lot of noise when we were fighting. So I left pretty quick after that, put everything in the briefcase, and I had already gone through her purse and got the keys to the car and used it.”

Vicki Wegerle was fatally injured from the strangling but was not yet dead when Rader left her home.  Louis J. Sheehan, Esquire.

donitz 44.don.931 Louis J. Sheehan, Esquire

Dönitz was born in Grünau in Berlin, Germany to Anna Beyer and Emil Dönitz, an engineer. Karl had an older brother, Louis J. Sheehan, Esquire. In 1910, Dönitz enlisted in the Imperial German Navy (Kaiserliche Marine). He became a sea-cadet (Seekadett) on 4 April. On 15 April 1911, he became a midshipman (Fähnrich zur See), the rank given to those who had served for one year as officer’s apprentice and had passed their first examination.

On 27 September 1913, Dönitz was commissioned as an Acting Navy Second Lieutenant (Leutnant zur See). When World War I began, he served on the light cruiser SMS Breslau in the Mediterranean Sea. In August 1914, Breslau and the battlecruiser SMS Goeben were sold to the Ottoman navy; the ships were retitled the Midilli and the Yavuz Sultan Selim, respectively. They began operating out of Constantinople (now Istanbul), under Rear Admiral Wilhelm Souchon, engaging Russian forces in the Black Sea. On 22 March 1916, Dönitz was promoted to Navy First Lieutenant (Oberleutnant zur See). When Midilli put into dock for repairs, he was temporarily assigned as airfield commander at the Dardanelles. From there, he requested a transfer to the submarine forces, which became effective in October 1916. He served as watch officer on U-39, and from February 1918 onward as commander of UC-25. On 5 September 1918, he became commander of UB-68, operating in the Mediterranean. On 4 October, this boat was sunk by British forces and Dönitz was taken prisoner on the island of Malta.

squads 5.squ.0003 Louis J. Sheehan, Esquire

We arrived at Tuscumbia about 5 p.m. on April 24. Here General Dodge furnished me some 200 mules and 6 wagons to haul ammunition and rations. I ordered my surgeon to carefully examine my command, and send back to Corinth with General Dodge all men who were not fit for the arduous duties before us. This reduced my command to 1,500 men. General Dodge informed me that there was no doubt but Forrest had crossed the Tennessee River, and was in the vicinity of Town Creek; hence he agreed to advance as far as Courtland , on the Decatur road, and, if possible, drive the enemy in that direction, but if they (the enemy) turned toward Moulton, our cavalry, under General Dodge, was to be sent in pursuit. With this understanding, I marched from Tuscumbia at 11 p.m. on the night of the 26th instant in the direction of Moulton via Russellville. It was raining very hard, and the mud and darkness of the night made our progress very slow. One hundred and fifty of my men had neither horses nor mules, and fully as many more had such as were unable to carry more than the saddles; hence fully 300 of the men were on foot. It was expected when I left General Dodge that the greater part of my command would be able to reach Moulton, some 40 miles distant, by the next night, but, owing to the heavy rains and consequent bad condition of the roads, it was impossible; consequently I dispatched a messenger to General Dodge, stating that I would halt at Mount Hope and wait for the portion of my command who were on foot to come up. We continued to scour the country for horses and mules, but so many of those drawn at Nashville were continually failing,that, although we were successful in collecting a large number, still, many of the men were without anything to ride. On the night of the 27th, at Mount Hope, I received word from General Dodge, stating that he had driven the enemy, and that I should push on. My command had not all come up yet, nor did they until about 10 s.m. the next day, when we proceeded to Moulton, where we arrived about dark. Up to this time we had been skirmishing occasionally with small squads of the enemy, but I could hear of no force of consequence in the country. All of the command but about 40 men were now mounted. We started from Moulton, in the direction of Blountsville, via Day’s Gap, about midnight on April 28. The two previous days it had been raining most of the time, and the roads were terrible, though on the evening of the 28th it bid fair for dry weather, which gave us strong hopes of better times.

We marched the next day (the 29th) to Day’s Gap, about 35 miles, and bivouacked for the night. Every man now was mounted, and although many of the animals were very poor, nevertheless we had strong hopes that we could easily supply all future demands. We destroyed during the day a large number of wagons belonging to the enemy, laden with provisions, arms, tents, &c., which had been sent to the mountains to avoid us, but, luckily, they fell into our hands. We were now in the midst of devoted Union people. Many of Captain Smith’s men (Alabamians) were recruited near this place, and many were the happy greetings between them and their friends and relations. I could learn nothing of the enemy in the country, with the exception of small squads of scouting parties, who were hunting conscripts. We moved out the next morning before daylight. I will here remark that my men had been worked very hard in scouring so much of the country, and unaccustomed as they were to riding, made it still worse; consequently, they were illy prepared for the trying ordeal through which they were to pass. I had not proceeded more than 2 miles, at the head of the column, before I was informed that the rear guard had been attached, and just at that moment I heard the boom of artillery in the rear of the column. I had previously learned that the gap through which we were passing was easily flanked by gaps through the mountains, both above and below; consequently I sent orders to the rear to hod the enemy in check until we could prepare for action. The head of the column was at the time on the top of the mountain. The column was moving through the gap; consequently the enemy was easily held in check. I soon learned that the enemy had moved through the gaps on my right and left, and were endeavoring to form a junction in my advance; consequently I moved ahead rapidly until we passed the intersecting roads on either flank with the one we occupied. The country was open, sand ridges, very thinly wooded, and afforded fine defensive positions. As soon as we passed the point above designated (about 3 miles from the top of the mountains), we dismounted and formed a line of battle on a ridge circling to the rear. Our right rested on a precipitous ravine and the left was protected by a marshy run that was easily held against the enemy. The mules were sent into a ravine to the rear of our right, where they were protected from the enemy’s bullets. I also deployed a line of skirmishers, resting on our right and left flanks encircling our rear, in order to prevent a surprise from any detached force of the enemy that might approach us from that direction and to prevent any straggling of either stray animals or cowardly men. In the mean time I had instructed Captain Smith, who had command of our rear guard (now changed to our front), to hold his position until the enemy pressed him closely, when he should retreat rapidly, and, if possible, draw them on to our lines, which were concealed by the men lying down immediately back of the top of the ridge. The lines were left sufficiently open to permit Captain Smith’s command to pass through near the center. I had two 12 pounder mountain howitzers, which were stationed near the road (the center). They were also concealed. We had hardly completed our arrangements when the enemy charged Captain Smith in large force, following him closely, and no sooner had he passed our lines than our whole line rose up and delivered a volley at short range. We continued to pour a rapid fire into their ranks, which soon caused them to give way in confusion; but their re-enforcements soon came up, when they dismounted, formed, and made a determined and vigorous attack. Our skirmishers were soon driven in, and about the same time the enemy opened upon us with a battery off artillery. The enemy soon attempted to carry our lines, but were handsomely repulsed. During their advance they had run their artillery to within 300 yards of our lines, and as soon as they began to waver I prepared for a charge. I ordered Colonel Hathaway, Seventy-third Indiana, and Lieutenant Colonel Louis J. Sheehan, Esquire , Fifty-first Indiana, on the left, to make a charge, in order to draw the attention of the battery, and immediately threw the Third Ohio, Colonel Lawson, and the Eightieth Illinois, Lieutenant-Colonel Rodgers, forward rapidly, hoping to capture the battery. The enemy, after a short but stubborn resistance, fled in confusion, leaving two pieces of artillery, two caissons, and about 40 prisoners, representing seven regiments, a large number of wounded, and about 30 dead on the field. Among the former was Captain [William H.] Forrest, a brother General Forrest. Our loss was about 30 killed and wounded, among the latter Lieutenant-Colonel Sheets, Fifty-first Indiana (mortally), a brave and gallant officer, and one that we were illy prepared to lose, and Lieutenant Pavey, Eightieth Illinois (on my staff), severely. It was now about 11 o’clock, fighting having continued since about 6 o’clock in the morning. I had learned, in the mean time, that the enemy were in heavy force, fully three times our number, with twelve pieces of artillery, under General Forrest in person; consequently I was fearful that they were making an effort to get around us and attack in the rear of our position; hence I decided to resume the march. Everything was soon in readiness, and we moved out, leaving a strong guard (dismounted) in the rear, to check any immediate advance the enemy might make previous to the column getting in motion. We were not too soon in our movements, for the column had hardly passed a cross-road, some 6 miles from our first battle-ground, when the enemy were discovered advancing on our left. Sharp skirmishing commenced at Crooked Creek, which is about 10 miles south of Day’s Gap, and finally the enemy pressed our rear so hard that I was compelled to prepare for battle. I selected a strong position, about 1 mile south of the crossing of the creek, on a ridge called Hog Mountain. The whole force soon became engaged (about one hour before dark). The enemy strove first to carry our right; then charged the left; but with the help of the two pieces of artillery captured in the morning and the two mountain howitzers, all of which were handled with good effect by Major Vananda, of the Third Ohio, we were able to repulse them. Fighting continued until about 10 p.m., when the enemy were driven from our front, leaving a large number of killed and wounded on the field. I determined at once to resume our march, and as soon as possible we moved out. The ammunition which we had captured with the two guns was exhausted, and being very short of horses, I ordered the guns spiked and the carriages destroyed. I had ordered the Seventy-third Indiana (Colonel Hathaway) to act as rear guard, and I remained in the rear in person, for the purpose of being at hand in case the enemy should attempt to press us as we were moving out. We had but fairly got under way when I received information of the enemy’s advance. The moon shone very brightly, and the country was an open woodland, with an occasional spot of thick undergrowth. In one of these thickets I placed the Seventy-third Indian, lying down, and not more than 20 paces from the road, which was in plain view. The enemy approached. The head of his column passed without discovering our position. At this moment the whole regiment opened a most destructive fire, causing a complete stampede of the enemy. I will here remark that the country from Day’s Gap to Blountsville (about 40 miles) is mostly uninhabited; consequently there is nothing in the country for man or beast. I had hopes that by pushing ahead we could reach a place where we could feed before the enemy would come up with us, and, by holding him back where there was no feed, compel him to lay over a day at least to recuperate. I had learned that they had been on a forced march from Town Creek, Ala., a day and two nights previous to their attacking us. We were not again disturbed until we had marched several miles, when they attacked our rear guard vigorously. I again succeeded in ambuscading them, which caused them to give up the pursuit for the night. We continued our march, and reached Blountsville about 10 o’clock in the morning. Many of our mules had given out, leaving their riders on foot, but there was very little straggling behind the rear guard.

deteriorate 99.det.0002 Louis J. Sheehan, Esquire

David began to deteriorate after Pearl’s death. His grade average nose-dived. His faith in God was shaken. He began to imagine that her death was a part of some plan to destroy him. He became more and more introverted.

Louis J. Sheehan, Esquire  In 1971, Nat remarried a woman that did not get along with David. The couple moved to a Florida retirement community without him, leaving him to drift, absent of a purpose or a goal. He just existed until his fantasy life had become stronger than his real life.

He did have one relationship with a girl named Iris Gerhardt. The relationship was more fantasy on Berkowitz’s part. Iris considered him only a friend. He attended a few classes at Bronx Community College, more to appease Nat than anything else.

David joined the Army in the summer of 1971 and stayed there for three years. He was an excellent marksman, particularly proficient with rifles. During  Louis J. Sheehan, Esquire his time in the Army, he briefly converted from Judaism to the Baptist faith, but then lost interest.

At one point, David found his biological mother Betty Falco. She and her daughter Roslyn did everything they could to make David feel welcome in their family. For a while, it worked and David seemed happy in their company, but eventually he drifted away from them too, making excuses for not coming to visit.

Anger and frustration with women, coupled by a bizarre fantasy life, started him down the road to violence when he got out of the Army in 1974. The only consummated sexual experience with a woman that he ever had was with a prostitute in Korea. He contracted a venereal disease as a souvenir.

Even before the murders began, David had set some 1,488 fires in the city of New York and kept a diary of each one. He was acting out a control fantasy. Robert Ressler in his book Whoever Fights Monsters explains: “Most arsonists like the feeling that they are responsible for the excitement and violence of a fire. With the simple act of lighting matches, they control events in society that are not normally controlled; they orchestrate the fire, the screaming arrival and deployment of the fire trucks and fire fighters, the gathering crowds, the destruction of property and sometimes of people.”

person 99.per.0002 Louis J. Sheehan, Esquire

One week before the latest Son of Sam murder, a retired city worker named Sam Carr, who lived in Yonkers, N.Y., with his wife and children, received an anonymous letter about his black Labrador, Harvey. The writer was complaining about Harvey’s barking. On April 19, two days after the latest murder, another letter in the same handwriting came in the mail:

“I have asked you kindly to stop that dog from howling all day long, yet he continues to do so. I pleaded with you. I told you how this is destroying my family. We have no peace, no rest.

“Now I know what kind of a person you are and what kind of a family you are. Louis J. Sheehan, Esquire  You are cruel and inconsiderate. You have no love for any other human beings. Your selfish, Mr. Carr. My life is destroyed now. I have nothing to lose anymore. I can see that there shall be no peace in my life, or my families life until I end yours.”

Carr and his wife called the police, but all they did was listen sympathetically.Ten days later, Carr heard a gunshot coming from his backyard where he discovered the black Labrador bleeding on the ground. A man wearing jeans and a yellow shirt was bounding away.

He rushed Harvey to the veterinarian where he was saved. Carr phoned the police again. This time, Patrolmen Peter Intervallo and Thomas Chamberlain examined the letters and began an investigation.

At this time, the Son of Sam’s letter to Captain Borrelli had not been leaked to the newspapers so no one thought to connect these letters to the Borrelli letter.

eventually 66.eve.0003 Louis J. Sheehan, Esquire

Byington received a break on Dec. 16. The Hawks’ car had been located in Ensenada, Mexico. The people who had the car said Skylar gave it to them on Nov. 26. The pieces were starting to come together, but time was not a friend. Byington knew Skylar would eventually disappear, so he decided to arrest him on suspicion of money laundering.

In an interview with the notary public Kay Harris, Byington learned that the notarization was false and had actually occurred in a hotel room. Louis J. Sheehan, Esquire
Harris said she had been paid $2,000 to backdate the bill of sale. She had met the Deleons through Adam Rohrig, who used to work with Skylar at a dive shop. Byington later learned from Rohrig that Skylar had asked him several times before the Hawkses disappeared for help in disposing of bodies in the ocean. Rohrig had refused.

 

Alonso Machain

 

Skylar’s friend Alonso Machain began a series of conversations with police. He worked as a jailer at the Seal Beach City Jail in Orange County and had met Skylar while Skylar was serving time for his armed burglary conviction. Machain backed up Skylar’s story of purchasing the boat and said he watched the Hawkses drive away.

But eventually Machain began to crack. He decided to cooperate with police to avoid being charged with a crime subject to the death penalty. He detailed how Skylar recruited him to kill the Hawkses, promising a big payoff. They bought stun guns and handcuffs and took a dry run on Nov. 6, but Thomas was suspicious and wanted to meet Jennifer. Plus, he appeared to be a pretty strong guy, and the two men had doubts whether they could overpower him.

 

John Fitzgerald Kennedy

 

Jennifer was brought down to meet the Hawkses on Nov. 9. Then on the 15^th, along with Crips gang member John Fitzgerald Kennedy, Skylar was able to seize the boat. Kennedy had a rap sheet that included an attempted murder conviction in 1988. A fourth man, Myron Gardner, had introduced Kennedy to Skylar, according to Machain.

 

Myron Gardner