Casefile True Crime - Case 200: The Zodiac (Part 4)

Episode Date: February 26, 2022

[Part 4 of 4] On March 22 1970, 22-year-old Kathleen Johns suffered a terrifying encounter when her car broke down on a California highway. Was it possible she’d encountered the Zodiac Killer? --- Narration – Anonymous Host Research – Jess Forsayeth and Milly Raso Writing – Elsha McGill, Erin Munro, Milly Raso and Jess Forsayeth Creative direction – Milly Raso Production and music – Mike Migas Music – Andrew D.B. Joslyn This episode's sponsors: Babbel – Get 6 months free with a 6-month subscription. Use promo code ‘CASEFILE’ Scribd – Get your two first months of Scribd’s unlimited number of full-length books, audiobooks, and other content for only $0.99 a month DoorDash – Get 25% off and FREE delivery for your first order of $15 or more with promo code ‘CASEFILE’ SimpliSafe – Get a free indoor security camera and save 20% on the security system when you sign up for the interactive monitoring service Crime Interrupted – New podcast from Casefile Presents  For all credits and sources please visit casefilepodcast.com/case-200-the-zodiac-part-4

Our episodes deal with serious and often distressing incidents. If you feel at any time you need support, please contact your local Crisis Centre. For suggested phone numbers for confidential support, please see the show notes for this episode on your app or on our website. The evening of Sunday, March 22, 1970, five months after the murder of Paul Stein in San Bernardino, California. Kathleen Jones was preparing for a long road trip. The 22-year-old was visiting her sick mother in Petaluma, a seven-hour drive away. Kathleen, who was seven months pregnant, preferred to make this familiar journey at night.

There were fewer people on the roads and the car's engine would allow her 10-month-old daughter to sleep. Kathleen got into her 1957 Chevrolet and set off with her daughter strapped into the backseat. By 11.45pm, Kathleen was driving along the Interstate 132 Highway in Patterson. She glanced up at her rear view mirror. A late-model, light tan-colored car was trailing close behind her. It was being driven by a white male wearing black-framed eyeglasses. He flashed his headlights, trying to get Kathleen's attention. Kathleen ignored the man and he soon sped up and overtook her. Nervous that something might be wrong with her vehicle, she decided to pull over and check,

just in case. Noticing this, the man promptly braked, then backed up to meet her by the side of the highway. Speaking in a slow, monotonous voice, he explained that her left rear wheel had been wobbling. He offered to fix it, and Kathleen accepted. Kathleen accepted. The man fetched a wrench and knelt by Kathleen's wheel for a couple of minutes, tightening the lug bolts. He then stood up and told her she was all set to continue. He strolled back to his car and drove away, without saying another word. Kathleen started her engine and pulled away from the roadside. But within moments, her car came to a grinding halt.

She got out to see what was wrong. The left rear tire had almost completely fallen off, with only one bolt still holding it in place. The man who'd made the repairs was still close enough to see that Kathleen had a problem. He promptly returned to the scene and offered to drive her to the nearest service station for professional assistance. Kathleen agreed and gathered up her infant daughter, leaving her keys in the ignition and the headlights on. She then climbed into the front passenger seat of the man's vehicle, holding her daughter on her lap. The car's interior was a mess, with clothing, rubbish and children's toys scattered about. After continuing along the highway for some time, the man eventually took an exit that led down some

quiet country roads. Kathleen was relieved to see a service station in the distance, but the man drove straight past it, without so much as pausing. They soon passed more service stations and the same thing happened again and again. Confused, Kathleen finally asked the man why he wasn't stopping. He simply explained that none of the service stations were right, then changed the subject. By this point they'd been driving around for about an hour and a half, but the man showed no signs of finding help as promised. Hoping she was just being paranoid, Kathleen continued making small talk.

The man told her that he worked for two months of the year, then spent the rest of his time driving around, mostly at night. Kathleen asked if he spent his long drives helping many people who found themselves in trouble. The man simply replied, When I get through with them, they don't need any help. Kathleen was now terrified, certain that the man planned to harm her in some way. When he pulled up at a stop sign, she saw an opportunity. Gripping her daughter in her arms, Kathleen flung open the door and jumped from the vehicle. She raced into a nearby field as fast as she could. The man made no attempt to stop her.

Instead, he simply reached over, closed the passenger door, and turned his lights off. He sat stationary in the dark for approximately five minutes, before flicking his lights back on and driving away into the night. Kathleen lay down flat on the ground. It was pitch black and she had no idea where she was. It appeared she had run into a vineyard and was in an irrigation ditch surrounded by tall grass. After the man left the area, Kathleen's first instinct was to return to the road. She clambered up an embankment and stood near the bottom of a hill by the roadside, waiting for a car to come by. A semi-trailer approached and Kathleen frantically flagged it to

stop. The driver hit the brakes. Kathleen's relief was soon overcome with anxiety. She eyed the semi-trailer's male driver with apprehension and begged him not to come any closer. Despite being her only means of escape, she didn't want to get into another car with another male stranger and put herself, her daughter, and her unborn baby in potential danger. Eventually, a female driver arrived on the scene and offered to help. The woman drove Kathleen and her daughter back to Patterson and dropped them outside the town's police station. It was around 2.30 am. Almost three hours had passed since Kathleen's ordeal began. She was visibly distraught and it took officers some time to calm her down.

Eventually, she was able to provide a statement about the night's events. Just as she concluded her story, Kathleen noticed a nearby bulletin board. She began screaming. The attending officer asked what was wrong. Kathleen pointed at a piece of paper pinned to the bulletin board and said, that's the man. My God, that's the man who picked us up. The officer looked to see what she was pointing at. It was a wanted poster featuring two composite sketches of the Zodiac killer. Kathleen couldn't remember exactly where she'd left her vehicle,

but a deputy was dispatched to the general area on the lookout for the 1957 Chevrolet. As he traveled two miles east of Interstate 5, he noticed a gray smoke emanating from a spot up ahead. It was coming from Kathleen's vehicle. Someone had set it on fire and the car was still smoldering. All that remained was an empty, burned out shell. Although Kathleen had said her left rear wheel was tampered with, an examination of the wreckage showed it was actually the right side. Back at the Paterson police station, interviewing officers began to wonder about Kathleen's story. It had been five months since the Zodiac's last known attack, and they had been waiting with nervous anticipation for him to make his next move.

Kathleen's ordeal didn't fit with his typical ammo, as he had never abducted a victim for a considerable length of time. But it was possible he had changed his approach once again. Yet, with each retelling, Kathleen added small details and new claims that varied from the original. She said the man took her car keys, but they were still in the ignition and returned to Kathleen after her car was towed. Initially, she also said the man refused to stop, then later clarified that he had stopped at one service station, but it was closed. Complicating matters further was the fact that Kathleen never actually asked the man to stop or let her go. Because of this, police wondered whether the incident could technically be qualified as a kidnapping.

Over time, Kathleen's story became more embellished, as she added that the man had repeatedly threatened to kill her. After her opportunistic escape, he stepped out of the car to look for her with the flashlight. Police hoped to verify Kathleen's story with the woman who had driven her to Patterson. But Kathleen hadn't asked for her contact information. A few weeks after Kathleen's encounter, a group of friends in San Francisco were chatting when they realized none of them had seen or heard from their friend Robert Salem in several days. On April 19, they decided to check in on him. They let themselves into the apartment in the mid-market district where 40-year-old Robert lived alone. To their shock, his lavishly

furnished home was in total disarray. Draws had been upended, and Robert's belongings were strewn everywhere. The place had been thoroughly ransacked. In the middle of the chaos was Robert, sprawled on a couch. The white jumpsuit he was wearing was covered in blood. He had been stabbed five times in the back, once in the chest, and his throat had been slashed. Robert's left ear was also missing. As his friends cast their eyes upwards, the sight before them grew even more shocking. Scrawled on a wall in Robert's own blood were the words, Satan save Zodiac, followed by a crosshair symbol. Despite the message tying the murder to the Zodiac, detectives were quick to rule out any

connection. Nothing about the crime matched the Zodiac's MO. Investigators theorized that the culprit's motive was robbery, and they staged the scene in an attempt to throw police off their path. They were right. Months later, a 22-year-old man named Stanley Dean confessed to the crime while under investigation for another unrelated murder. Detective David Toskey lived and breathed the Zodiac case. The homicide inspector for San Francisco's police department had originally fronted the investigation into Paul Stein's murder. Once the Zodiac took responsibility for the cabbie's death, Toskey and his partner William Armstrong went in hard to identify the notorious serial killer. Toskey was a notable character at San Francisco's PD. In contrast to the

dark, plain-colored clothing worn by his colleagues, Toskey stood out in colorful suits and bow ties. He embraced his position as the public face of the Zodiac case. A softly-spoken, friendly man, Toskey worked tirelessly with police departments in other jurisdictions to collate all the Zodiac information and to begin the mammoth task of piecing it together. They focused on the suspect's known features, his physical appearance, the fact that he committed crimes in locations named after bodies of water, his mention of having a basement which very few homes in California possessed, the possibility that he had a military background. Several details alluded to this. Firstly, the Zodiac was known to wear wing walker boots associated with the Air Force. In one of his letters,

he'd talked about coating his fingertips with aeroplane cement, which indicated another possible Air Force link. He'd also used a bayonet-style knife in one of his killings, a weapon commonly linked to the US military. After fleeing the scene of Paul Stein's attack, the Zodiac had fled into the Presidio Park area, which was a former United States Army post. Toskey familiarized himself with all the Zodiac correspondence. Then on April 20, 1970, he received an unopened letter that had originally been sent to the San Francisco Chronicle. Addressed to the editor, the newspaper staff recognized the handwriting on the envelope immediately and forwarded it to police without opening it. Inside was a letter that began. This is the Zodiac speaking. A question followed.

By the way, have you cracked the last cipher I sent you? The answer was no. No one had yet cracked the Zodiac killer's previous cipher, known as the 340. His letter continued. My name is the sentence ended abruptly. A 13-character line of symbols followed. It was another cipher. Then, switching back to plain English again, the Zodiac pondered. I am mildly curious as to how much money you have on my head now. He denied responsibility for a pipe bomb blast that occurred months earlier at the Golden Gate Park police station, while simultaneously claiming that he'd recently tried to detonate a bomb on a bus. His plans had been thwarted by heavy rain. If he'd succeeded, he said, his death toll would be even higher than the 10 lives he said he'd taken

thus far. Included with the letter was a hand-drawn diagram of this supposed bomb, along with the words, PS. I hope you have fun trying to figure out who I killed. The letter was signed with the crosshair, along with the letter's SFPD for San Francisco Police Department, an equals sign, and the number zero. In his previous letter, the Zodiac had mentioned seven victims. Now he was claiming he'd killed 10. Investigators only knew of five. David Faraday, Betty Lou Jensen, Darlene Farron, Cecilia Shepard, and Paul Stein. Either he had killed more people than the police were aware of, which would be unusual given his desire to take credit for his crimes, or he was inflating his kill count to either confuse police

or increase his notoriety. The 13-symbol cipher was sent to cryptologists, but ciphers shorter than 30 characters are generally considered unsolvable, as numerous solutions can be derived from them. Without further input from the killer, the code was deemed too difficult to decipher, and the Zodiac's identity remained a mystery. Despite his apparent desire to be identified, the Zodiac went to great lengths to avoid this happening. His handwriting, while distinct and recognizable, often varied in minute detail. The letter D was always in cursive, and his Rs appeared like check marks. Police believed he was disguising his genuine handwriting so as not to give himself away.

Given the Zodiac's claim that his bomb attempt was swamped out by the rain, an investigation was launched into lower-lying regions of the San Francisco Bay Area. If police could find the spots where the rainwater pooled, they might be one step closer to locating the killer. When denying responsibility for the police station bombing, the Zodiac had written, it just wouldn't do to move in on someone else's territory. Did this indicate the Zodiac had a specific area that he considered his turf? Whatever the case, the My Name Is letter was well examined and its points thoroughly explored,

but detectives failed to achieve any major breakthroughs. Reports on the matter ended with the bleak remark. The investigation continues. A little over a week later on April 28th, the Zodiac's threats escalated when he sent a cartoon greeting card to the Chronicle. It featured an image of a small man riding a donkey, alongside another small man riding a dragon. Printed above the image was the caption, sorry to hear your arse is a dragon.

This pre-printed message appeared to be a play on words, which the Zodiac was employing to mock the police's slow investigation. In the Zodiac's handwriting was a more personalized note, warning of how he was finally intending to carry out his bomb threat. It read, I hope you enjoy yourselves when I have my blast. There were two ways that the blast could be avoided, the Zodiac added. 1. The Chronicle was to publish details about his plans to blow up a bus. 2. He wanted to see the people of San Francisco wearing Zodiac themed badges.

The San Francisco Police Department instructed the Chronicle to run a brief article about the card in order to placate the Zodiac. They were certain this latest note was genuinely from him, due to the bomb threats which had also been made in previous Zodiac letters. 3. The Case Detectives had always been careful to keep those references under wraps out of fear they may cause unnecessary panic. 4. On May 31, law enforcement made the difficult decision to publicize the bomb threat. 5. Suddenly the risk felt too great. 6. It was 5.28 am on June 19, 1970, when the sound of gun shots rang out over Waller Street in San Francisco's Lower Haight neighborhood. There were three shots in total, fired in quick

succession. Officers were dispatched to the area after receiving a call from a concerned citizen. They pulled up to the block between Scott and Peer Streets, where they found a stationary patrol car. The car's interior was soaked with blood and its sole occupant, 25-year-old traffic patrolman Richard Raditich, was slumped over towards the passenger seat, barely clinging to life. Raditich had been preparing to run a check on a parked car, when a bullet fired from a .38 caliber pistol hit him in the head, as he was still gripping his police microphone. Just as one of the attending officers exited the vehicle to take a closer look, a neighbor leaned out of a nearby window and shouted,

Get down, they might still be around. The officer quickly ducked down and waited for back up to arrive. Soon, the area was swarming with police. Although no one had seen the shooting, witnesses reported seeing a white Cadillac speeding away from the area seconds after the shots were fired. Officer Raditich was rushed to the hospital, but later died of his injuries. His colleagues had no idea who could have killed him, and urged anyone who knew anything about the crime to come forward. As the days ticked by, the people of San Francisco remained on edge, wondering when or where the Zodiac would strike next.

Despite their fears, they ignored his request to wear badges that acknowledged his demands. As schools closed for summer vacation, there was a sense of relief throughout the city. At least there would be no school buses on the roads for the killer to target. Almost two weeks passed with no reported attacks. Then, on Monday, June 29, another suspicious envelope arrived at the offices of the Chronicle. It had all the hallmarks of a Zodiac letter, except that, unlike those before it, this one wasn't specifically addressed to the editor. Inside was a map of San Francisco with the location marked in the Mount Diablo area.

The isolated peak sat to the east of the Bay Area, and was one of California's most iconic landmarks, attracting hikers, birdwatches, and nature lovers. The map was accompanied by a letter that read, This is the Zodiac speaking. I have become very upset with the people of San Friend Bay Area. They have not complied with my wishes. I promised to punish them if they did not comply by annihilating a full school bus. But now school is out for the summer, so I punished them in another way. I shot a man sitting in a parked car with a 38. The map coupled with this code will tell you where the bomb is set. You have until next fall to dig it up. At the end of the letter were 32 coded characters.

Alongside the Zodiac's crosshair symbol was the number 12, next to the letters, SFPD equals 0. The killer was now claiming he'd murdered 12 people, while investigators were no closer to catching him. The latest cipher was sent to the FBI, but experts were unable to crack the code. Nor were any fingerprints detected on either the letter, map, or envelope. However, the handwriting was a match to the previous letters, confirming it to be genuine Zodiac correspondence. Investigators reflected on the Zodiac's claim of having shot a man in a car with a 38 caliber weapon. The only recent crime that matched this description was the fatal shooting of patrolman Richard Raditich. The scene of the shooting was just two and a half miles

from where the Zodiac had killed Cabby Paul Stein. And the Zodiac had recently boasted of killing police members in a letter, writing, There is more glory in killing a cop than a kid. Because a cop can shoot back. However, several days after officer Raditich was shot, a witness reported seeing an ex-convict named Joe Johnson driving away from the scene, and police thought he was a likely suspect. They'd already issued an APB for Johnson's arrest, and didn't believe that the Zodiac was involved in any way. Charges against Johnson were later dropped due to a lack of evidence. Although the authorities remained dubious about the Zodiac's confession, they couldn't confirm or deny whether he was responsible for the young officer's murder.

One month passed with no further word or action from the Zodiac. Then, on July 27, another letter arrived at the Chronicle, in which the Zodiac again complained that people weren't wearing Zodiac themed badges. Angered, he said he now had a little list of people he planned to kill, starting with a woman and a baby whom he'd given a rather interesting ride a few months prior. He claimed that the encounter had ended with him torching their car. Case detectives believed the woman he was referring to was Kathleen Johns, and the reference appeared to confirm her suspicion that the man who'd tampered with her vehicle and set it alight was the Zodiac killer. But they also had to consider the possibility

that the Zodiac had simply read Kathleen's account in the news and decided to take credit. A second, much longer letter also arrived at the Chronicle that same day. In it, the Zodiac threatened to torment the souls of his victims if his requests continued to be ignored, outlining various torture methods in graphic detail. Once again, he alluded to having a little list of intended victims. The Zodiac's repeated use of this phrase was a reference to a song from a Gilbert and Sullivan opera called The Mikado. The character who sang this song was known as Coco, the Lord High Executioner, and he wore a hood very similar to the one the Zodiac had donned for the Lake Berryessa attack. To ensure this connection wasn't missed, the Zodiac had

written a parody of the song, describing the types of people he planned to target next. His lyrics concluded with the chilling words, But it really doesn't matter whom you place upon the list. For none of them be missed, none of them be missed. Detectives believed this second more detailed illusion indicated he was worried his earlier reference may have been misinterpreted. Convinced this must be significant, they wondered whether he may have performed in the Mikado, either during school or in an amateur production. They looked into drama troops that were staging the Mikado during the time of the

Zodiac attacks, but these inquiries led nowhere. While this letter featured the Zodiac's usual spelling errors, its tone was more bizarre than the others. Some investigators speculated that his mental state was deteriorating, while others wondered if this was just a ruse to trick them into believing he was insane. In any case, his threats felt increasingly empty. It appeared to detectives that the Zodiac was now more interested in seeking attention through words than actions. Editors at the Chronicle felt that the Zodiac had been too encouraged by all of the media attention. Consequently, they decided not to publish any excerpts from these last two letters. The Zodiac no longer appeared to be committing any attacks, and the emptier his

threats sounded, the less interested readers were in his letters. The evening of Sunday, September 6, 1970, 11 months after the murder of Paul Stein in South Lake Tahoe, California. 25-year-old Donna Lass settled in for her night shift at the Sahara Hotel Casino in South Lake Tahoe. She was employed as the on-site nurse, and it was her duty to tend to any patrons who required basic medical assistance. It was a relatively new job, as Donna had only recently moved to South Lake Tahoe from the Presidio area of San Francisco. Her shift that night was fairly ordinary and ended without incident. Donna eventually clocked off and disappeared into the night.

The following day, the phone rang at the Sahara Hotel Casino. One of Donna's co-workers answered. A man on the other line said he was a relative of Donna's and explained there had been an illness in the family. Consequently, Donna wouldn't be able to make it to work. Her employer made note of her absence and assumed she'd soon return. But Donna didn't show up for her next shift either and had made no further contact. Now concerned, her employer notified the police. They paid a visit to Donna's apartment, finding her 1968 convertible parked out the front. Inside, her apartment was spotless. Donna's clothes and credit cards were still there, and a check of her bank account revealed it hadn't been touched.

Officers reached out to Donna's family, who revealed something alarming. There had been no illness in the family and they had no idea who could have called the casino on Donna's behalf. Donna's unexplained absence now took a sinister turn. Given that she wasn't the type to simply leave without an explanation, police suspected foul play. Intensive searches were conducted throughout the Lake Tahoe area, but to no avail. A witness reported having seen Donna walking near her apartment with a blonde-haired man on September 7, but this was never verified. Detectives speculated that Donna's disappearance could be connected to the case of another young nurse, Judith Ann Hakari, who had been abducted and murdered six months earlier.

Judith's savagely beaten body had been found in a shallow grave near Tahoe National Forest, but with little to go on, any connection to Donna's disappearance was purely speculative. Meanwhile, in San Francisco, two months had gone by with no further contact from the Zodiac killer. Then, on Wednesday, October 7, a postcard arrived at the office of the chronicle claiming to be from the Zodiac. Typed on a filing card, a message on the back had been crafted from newspaper clippings. It read, Dear editor, you'll hate me, but I've got to tell you, the pace isn't any slower. P.S. There are reports city police pig cops are closing in on me. Fuck, I'm crackproof. What is the price tag now?

It also featured a crosshair symbol crafted from red paper. Given this card was significantly different from the Zodiac's previous correspondence, detectives were unsure if it was genuine or a hoax. Whoever had sent it had also increased the Zodiac's death toll, including a number 13 to allude to his number of victims. By this time, one year had passed since the last confirmed to Zodiac attack, the murder of cab driver Paul Stein. There had been no breakthroughs, and both the media and the public were losing interest in the case. It wasn't long before the Zodiac made contact again. On October 26, an envelope arrived at the Chronicle with the strange symbol drawn in the top left

corner. It was a letter Z underneath a sharp zigzagging line bordered by four dots. On the back of the envelope, written diagonally to form a cross, were the words, Sorry, no cipher. This letter was addressed to Paul Avery, the journalist who had covered the vast majority of the newspaper's Zodiac stories. Inside the envelope was a black and white Halloween card depicting a dancing skeleton. The front of the card read, From your secret pal, I can feel it in my bones, you wake to know my name, and so I'll clue you in. Inside the card, the message concluded with the words, But then, why spoil the game? Happy Halloween. The Zodiac had handwritten his own message that read, Boo, you are doomed. Peek-a-boo.

On the back of the card, written in all capitals to form a cross, were the words, Paradise and slaves. Paradise had been spelled incorrectly with the letter C instead of an S. Intercepting this cross were the words, By gun, By knife, and By rope. As this was the first time the Zodiac had targeted a particular individual in his correspondence, investigators couldn't help but wonder, Would Paul Avery be targeted next? Shaken but undeterred by the looming threat, Paul Avery embarked on a 430 mile trip to Southern California. After words spread that he'd received a card from the Zodiac killer, a reader had contacted him with a theory too compelling to ignore.

They'd been following the Zodiac case closely and recognized some similarities to an unsolved murder that had occurred in the city of Riverside four years earlier. Was it possible this had been the early work of the Zodiac? Intrigued by the theory, Paul Avery flew to Riverside to examine the case file for himself. On October 30, 1966, 18 year old Sherry Joe Bates had been stabbed to death by an unidentified assailant after leaving her college library. A broken watch and heel print from a military shoe were found at the scene. Her killer later sent anonymous letters confessing to the crime and, like the Zodiac, his writing was peppered with spelling and grammatical errors. Paul Avery read through the typed confession letter that had arrived at the Riverside Daily

Enterprise newspaper following Sherry Joe's murder. It read in part, She was young and beautiful, but now she is battered and dead. She is not the first and she will not be the last. Beware, I am stalking your girls now. Paul then examined the handwritten letters that had been sent to Sherry Joe Bates' father, the Riverside Police Department, and the Riverside Daily Enterprise newspaper. All three read, Bates had to die, there will be more. When Paul reached the bottom of the letter, he felt a jolt of surprise. Two of the letters sent by Sherry Joe's killer were signed with a squiggle. It looked like the letter Z.

It didn't escape Paul's attention that the city of Riverside was named for a body of water, just like the Zodiac's other murder sites. Sherry Joe's car had also been disabled before her attack, similar to the experience reported by Kathleen Johns. Perhaps the Zodiac had inadvertently left evidence at the Bates' crime scene that could be traced back to him and had never taken credit for the murder because he knew it would be his undoing. If the Zodiac was indeed responsible for Sherry Joe's death, it would provide some compelling new clues to his identity. Sherry Joe's killer had written in his confession that he'd made her pay for the brush-offs she had given him in the past. This indicated he may have been of similar

age to Sherry Joe in 1966, meaning the Zodiac would now be in his early to mid-20s. Perhaps he'd previously lived in Riverside and made the move to San Francisco in recent years. Handwriting expert Sherwood Murill examined letters on the three notes sent to Sherry Joe's father, Riverside PD, and the local newspaper. He concluded there was a high probability that it matched the handwriting of the Zodiac killer. Following Sherry Joe's murder, a disturbing poem had been found scratched into a desk at her college library, which was believed to have been written by her killer. Murill analyzed this too and concluded, quote, it is unquestionably the work of the Zodiac. Police in Riverside weren't convinced. They'd recently been looking into

a local man who they considered a prime suspect in Sherry Joe's murder. However, the San Francisco Police Department and the FBI found the theory compelling, and an investigator was assigned to re-examine Sherry Joe's case full-time. On November 16, 1970, the Los Angeles Times published an article exploring the possible connections. Four months later, a letter arrived at the newspaper's offices. It read, in part, this is the Zodiac speaking. Like I have always said, I am crackproof. If the blue meanies are ever going to catch me, they had best get off their fat arses and do something. I do have to give them credit for stumbling across my Riverside activity, but they are only finding the easy ones. There are a hell of a lot more down there.

Riverside Police dismissed this final claim. They had no other unsolved homicides that could possibly fit with the Zodiac's crimes. Sierra Club, around in the snow, sought victim 12, peeked through the pines, past Lake Tahoe areas. These were the cryptic words that arrived on a postcard addressed to Paul Avery at the Chronicle one week later. The front featured an artist's impression of the new Forest Pines housing development in Lake Tahoe, Nevada, right on the border with California. The promotional image, which depicted a snowy neighborhood framed by pine trees, had been widely circulated in many Northern California newspapers the weekend prior. In the bottom right-hand corner, the Zodiac crosshair was scrawled in thick ink,

although the rest of the card was notably different to other Zodiac correspondences. When detectives saw the postcard, they guessed which case the message was referring to. It had now been six months since 25-year-old casino nurse Donna Lass disappeared without a trace from the South Lake Tahoe area. Nothing about her case fit the Zodiac's M.O., but investigators were intrigued enough to dig deeper. They looked into Donna's history and discovered that she shared a loose connection with one of the Zodiac's victims. At the time of Caby Paul Stein's murder, Donna was living just six blocks from where his body was found. She had also worked at a hospital in the Presidio, the park where the

Zodiac was believed to have hidden after killing Paul. In the top right corner of the Zodiac's postcard, a single hole had been punched out to emit a section of land in the Forest Pines development. Believing that this could be where Donna Lass's body was buried, police waited until recent heavy snowfall had thawed before launching a thorough excavation of the site. However, they found nothing of significance. The Zodiac's attempt to draw attention to the area remained a mystery. Rumors began circulating that a detective may have sent the Lake Tahoe postcard in an attempt to further their career, or that a family member of Donna's had sent it out of desperation for her case to be solved. Torment Nagged at Donald Cheney

For years, he'd been stewing over a disturbing conversation he'd had with a friend during a hunting trip in 1968. It had all started with the words, Have you ever thought of hunting people? Not only had the friend described in haunting detail the way he'd carry out a murder, but he'd even figured out exactly who his victims would be. It seemed as though his friend was thrilled not only by the notion of killing people, but the thought of toying with the detectives tasked with solving his crimes. Donald's friend had mentioned how he would send the police confusing letters, which he would sign off with the moniker, the Zodiac.

While the conversation itself had been enough to make Donald feel uneasy, it wasn't until the Zodiac killer began making headlines that he realized his friend might have been serious. When Donald read about the Zodiac's threats to shoot children as they came off the school bus, he remembered that his friend had made a similar comment. He'd said he would shoot the tires off the bus and then quote, pick off the little darlings as they bounced out. When Donald saw a sketch of the suspect, his heart skipped a beat. It looked remarkably similar to his friend. Donald couldn't keep this information to himself any longer. He confided in a work

colleague who summoned the Los Angeles County police. Two detectives visited the man's workplace to take Donald's statement. After holding it in for years, he finally gave them the name of his friend. Arthur Lee Allen On August 4, 1971, lead detectives David Toskey and William Armstrong pulled up at the Penal Oil Refinery, 10 miles south of Vallejo. They were joined by Detective John Mullenax from the Vallejo Police Department. The trio approached Arthur Lee Allen's employer who'd been made aware of their impending visit. He'd took the officers to Allen, who had just started

working as a junior chemist. Allen looked confused as he realized the three detectives were there to interview him. When told that an anonymous source had linked him to the Zodiac attacks, Allen was taken aback. However, this wasn't the first time that he'd been questioned in relation to one of the Zodiac murders. Police had spoken to him after the attack against Cecilia Shepard and Brian Hartnell at Lake Berryessa. However, Allen said he couldn't even follow the Zodiac story in the news because he found it too morbid. For some unknown reason, a member of the public had tipped police off to Allen after the Lake Berryessa attack. He claimed he was nowhere near the lake on the day in question, but 100 miles away

diving at Salt Point State Park. He returned to the home he shared with his mother in Vallejo at around 4pm and stayed there for the remainder of the evening. Police had asked if there was anyone who could verify this alibi. Allen said he'd met a couple at Salt Point but couldn't remember their names. He had also chatted with a neighbor after pulling into his driveway, but they had passed away one week later and couldn't confirm this interaction. Curiously, this was a detail he'd neglected to mention during his first police interview. 37-year-old Allen admitted to having an interest in firearms and said he owned some 22-colour by handguns. Before detectives could ask him about any other possible weapons, he suddenly

blurted out. The two knives I had in my car with blood on them, the blood came from a chicken I killed. The investigators were stunned. Perhaps Allen was under the impression that they had more information about him than they actually did. Later, again without being asked, Allen mentioned that he'd been in Southern California at the time of Sherry Joe Bates's murder. He denied having any incriminating conversations like the one Donald Cheney had described, but admitted that he'd read a short story named The Most Dangerous Game, which had left a lasting impression on him. The tale featured descriptions of a bored hunter who decided to start targeting humans instead of animals, and it had been speculatively

linked to the first confirmed zodiac cipher. As detectives chatted with Allen, they happened to notice he was wearing a distinctive looking watch. He claimed it had been a gift from his mother two years earlier. Detective Toskey asked if they could take a closer look. Allen obliged and leaned his arm closer to the detectives. The face of the watch was imprinted with a crosshair symbol. Written across the watch was the brand name, Zodiac. Detective John Mullenax finished typing up his report of the interview with Allen, concluding with the line. After interviewing Allen, it is the opinion of all three investigators that further investigation should be conducted. Ted Kidder, who had previously employed Allen

as a lifeguard and trampoline instructor, told the inspectors that Allen was fired after numerous people complained about his inappropriate behavior towards children. It was no surprise to Kidder that Allen was now considered a suspect in the zodiac killings. The thought of Allen's possible involvement had crossed his mind before, and he'd recently discussed the matter with another co-worker. As far as they were concerned, Allen was a sexual deviant, a loner, and a likely suspect. The other former co-worker, a man named Philip, was also pulled aside and questioned by investigators. He remembered discussing the zodiac case with Allen, who'd mentioned he was questioned about the Lake Berryessa attack. In another conversation, Allen told Philip about a great idea he had.

If a person were to attach a special light to the barrel of their gun, they would be able to see their target in the dark of night and shoot them down. Notably, this is one of the tactics the zodiac claimed to have used when gunning down David Faraday and Betty Lou Janssen. Philip owned a brown Corvair, similar to the one driven by the perpetrator who would shot Darlene Farron and Michael Majo in Blue Lake Springs. Around the time of this attack, Philip was trying to sell his vehicle. He left it parked on display at a service station for two weeks, with the keys inside the station for anyone who might like to test drive it. One of the employees who worked there at that time was Arthur Lee Allen.

But that wasn't all. Philip and his wife had visited Allen at his mother's house when he suddenly announced he had something to show them. Allen went to his basement bedroom and produced a grey metal box. Inside was a piece of paper regarding a person who Allen claimed had been committed to a Tascadero State Hospital in San Luis Obispo County for sexually abusing a child. Riddled throughout the paragraphs were symbols. They were meticulously neat and resembled the zodiac ciphers to a tee. Philip's wife was fascinated by the symbols and asked if she could take the paper home to study it. But Allen refused and shoved it back into the box. Allen's sister-in-law, Karen, told detectives that Allen openly detested his mother, hated women,

and had never had a relationship with anyone his own age. Instead, he had a disturbing fixation with children. Karen admitted that Allen needed psychiatric help, but she did not believe he was the zodiac. However, when looking through the numerous letters sent by the zodiac over the years, one caught Karen's attention. On the Christmas letter sent to Melvin Belli, the zodiac had incorrectly spelled Merry Christmas with two S's. Karen had received a Christmas card from Allen in which he had misspelled Christmas the same way. Detectives followed up Allen's old employer at the service station who put one concern to rest. Allen had been fired months before Philip's brown corvair was left unattended at the station,

due to his habit of arriving at work intoxicated, missing shifts altogether, and being, quote, too interested in small girls. Allen hadn't always been an unreliable employee. When he worked at Valley Springs Elementary School in 1966, he had only ever taken one sick day. On November 1, the day after Sherry Joe Bates' body was discovered in Riverside. Despite the 400-mile distance between Valley Springs and Riverside, Allen had mentioned to detectives that he'd been in Southern California at the time of Sherry Joe's murder. Detectives searched a trailer that Arthur Lee Allen owned in Santa Rosa, 45 miles from his mother's house in Vallejo, but didn't find any concrete evidence linking him to

any of the zodiac crimes. Regardless, he had started to emerge as the most promising suspect so far. A background check confirmed Allen had been in the Navy in the late 1950s, but was dishonorably discharged. He also wore a size 10.5 shoe, the same as the prints that had been found in the Lake Beriesa attack. The evening of Friday, April 7, 1972, almost two and a half years since the murder of Paul Stein in Tamil Pius Valley, California. It was just before 9 p.m. when 33-year-old legal secretary Isabel Watson strolled through the neighborhood where she lived. As Isabel made her way along Pine Hill Road, she suddenly felt a shocking blow.

A car had knocked her to the ground. The male driver leapt from the vehicle, a late model Ford or Chevrolet sedan. He looked to be in his early 40s and was about 5'9'' with the stocky build, brown hair and black-framed glasses. He apologized profusely to Isabel and offered to drive her home. Isabel was unharmed and felt fine to continue on alone, so she politely declined the offer. Her refusal enraged the man. He began to pummel her in the neck and up her back. Isabel screamed in pain, prompting her attacker to flee the scene. It was then that Isabel noticed the blood. The man hadn't been hitting her at all. He had been stabbing her repeatedly.

Isabel was taken to a hospital for treatment. When law enforcement officers learnt of the senseless attack, they couldn't help but notice the culprit's striking similarities to the Zodiac. Napa County Sheriff's Captain Ken Nalo was particularly intrigued. By this point, he'd been chasing the Zodiac for 2.5 years and Isabel Watson's attacker perfectly matched the description of the man he was hunting. Speaking to the media, Nalo said, I think it's a good chance it was him. You get a certain feeling about things. I got a feeling about this one. In September of 1972, Detective David Toskey arrived at the Sunset Trailer Park in Santa Rosa and made his way to the pink and white trailer owned by Arthur Lee Allen.

He knocked on the door, but there was no response. When Allen finally showed up, Toskey waved a search warrant in his face and made his way inside. There was a singular reason for Toskey's visit. He wanted a fresh handwriting sample. Even though Allen's handwriting had previously been compared to the Zodiac's and dismissed, rumours had been circulating that he was ambidextrous. According to one of Allen's relatives, he was naturally left-handed, but as a child, his teachers had forced him to write with his right hand. Knowing the previous sample had been written with his left hand, Toskey asked Allen to write

a sentence using his non-dominant hand instead. Allen picked up a pen with his right hand and began to write. After a few words, he complained it was too difficult. Toskey had to coax him to complete a small sample, with Allen insisting it was near impossible. Toskey wasn't convinced. It seemed as though Allen was trying too hard to pretend this was a challenging task. After investigators set their sights on Arthur Lee Allen, years passed with no further word or action from the Zodiac. Some speculated he had died or been incarcerated, or perhaps he was feeling the heat from the investigation. Life for Californians returned to normal as the killer faded from the headlines.

Then, three years later, on January 30, 1974, an envelope arrived at the San Francisco Chronicle. The printing of the line, please rush to editor, was unmistakable. The Zodiac suddenly and inexplicably resurfaced. Inside was a single piece of unlined paper on which was scrawled. I saw and think the Exorcist was the best satirical comedy that I have ever seen. Below that, the Zodiac had written, He plunged himself into the billowy wave and an echo arose from the Suicide's grave. This was yet another reference to a line performed by the Lord High Executioner in the

Mercado, the opera the Zodiac had alluded to in previous letters. This letter concluded with the words, P.S. If I do not see this note in your paper, I will do something nasty, which you know I'm capable of doing. A strange symbol followed, consisting of dots and thick lines. What it meant was anyone's guess. The letter finished with a final tally that read, The Chronicle granted his request by publishing the letter. After years of silence, news that the Zodiac had emerged once again captured the public's attention. Some readers wondered if the reference to suicide meant he planned to take his own life,

or stop killing once and for all. Investigators were just as uncertain as to how they should interpret this unexpected. Over the next few months, three similar letters followed. One was signed from a friend, another from a citizen, and the third was sent by someone in the city of San Rafael, who called themselves the Red Phantom. All of these shared similarities to the Zodiac's correspondence, but the handwriting differed slightly. To account for these differences, some theorized that the Zodiac might be ambidextrous, but investigators were unable to determine

whether any were authentic or the work of a copycat. Detectives were still digging into the man many considered the prime Zodiac suspect, Arthur Lee Allen. In the mid-seventies, an investigator took Lake Berryessa survivor Brian Hartnell to a hardware store where Allen was working at the time. Brian browsed the shelves, pretending to be an ordinary customer, before taking an item to the till. While Allen rang up the purchase, Brian subtly observed him, taking in every physical feature. Brian hadn't seen the face of his attacker, as the man had been wearing a hood, but he noted that Allen's size, build, and voice was a match.

Investigators were intrigued by Brian's observations. On September 27, 1974, detectives arrived at Arthur Lee Allen's trailer in Santa Rosa, desperate to apprehend him. When their persistent knocking went unanswered, they picked the lock to get inside. Allen wasn't home, but incriminating evidence was seized. Then detectives headed to the lumberyard where Allen was now working, and arrested him on the spot. At the county jail, Allen sat with detectives without a lawyer present. He asked if he would be given a lighter sentence if he simply pleaded guilty. His arrest was the result of a statement provided by one of Allen's friends,

but she wasn't naming him as the Zodiac. This arrest was for an entirely different crime. Allen had sexually assaulted her eight-year-old son on multiple occasions. Investigators still didn't have any real evidence to pin the Zodiac crimes on Allen, despite survivor Brian Hartnell's statements. On March 14, 1975, after pleading guilty to the child molestation charges, Allen was sentenced to two and a half years at the Atascadero State Hospital, a mental health facility for individuals who had committed a criminal offense. Later that same year, a small group of ham radio enthusiasts in the Bay Area began

speaking to one another over the airwaves. One of the men, Richard Marshall, invited the others over to his basement apartment in San Rafael, a city approximately 18 miles north of San Francisco. Marshall was in his late 40s and was a film buff who worked as an operator in a silent theater. Although Marshall had made several comments over the radio that the others considered strange, they accepted his invitation. Upon entering his home, they were immediately struck by the troubling artwork on his walls. He had on display a large number of explicit images featuring young boys and possessed a large collection of pornographic literature.

Throughout the evening, Marshall's behavior was extremely odd. At one stage, he remarked that he'd discovered something much more exciting than sex, but refused to elaborate. He also mentioned that he needed to lay low for a while, but didn't explain why. One of Marshall's visitors was Ted, not his real name. Ted had been following the Zodiac case closely over the years and began to wonder if Marshall could be the culprit. Ted thought Marshall bore an uncanny resemblance to the suspect sketches, right down to his thick-framed glasses. Furthermore, Marshall had lived in the Bay Area during all of the confirmed Zodiac attacks and was residing in Riverside at the time Sherry Joe

Bates was murdered. Ted also found Marshall's remark about finding something better than sex was eerily reminiscent of the Zodiac's decoded cipher about killing being the greatest thrill, quote, better than getting your rocks off with a girl. Marshall invited his guests to watch one of his favorite films, El Espectro Rojo, which translates in English to the Red Phantom. This was of interest to Ted due to the possible Zodiac letter the Chronicle had received from someone using the same name. Moreover, that particular letter had been posted from San Rafael, the city where Marshall lived. On June 16, 1976, Ted sent a letter to the Napa County Sheriff's Department detailing his suspicions. Investigators were intrigued enough

to set up a meeting with Ted. When they showed him some of the confirmed Zodiac letters, even more similarities emerged. Ted recognized the oddly shaped pieces of paper used by the Zodiac as matching some he'd seen in Marshall's apartment. According to Ted, Marshall had a friend who worked in printing and supplied him with scrap paper. Ted also thought the Zodiac's handwriting looked similar to that of Marshall, who was ambidextrous. He often wrote with a black marker, which the Zodiac was sometimes known to do. Additionally, he owned a royal typewriter. The same model Sherry Joe Bates's killer was believed to have used when composing his confession letter. Marshall had served in the Navy and was skilled at drawing electric circuit diagrams,

like the image of the bomb the Zodiac had drawn. He also spoke with the distinct draw, which fit the Zodiac's voice as described by survivor Brian Hartnell. Marshall was interviewed by detectives. They found him compelling, but ultimately concluded that he wasn't a strong suspect due to his fingerprints not matching any of those on file for the Zodiac. Marshall later spoke publicly about the case during a TV interview. He acknowledged that he and the Zodiac seemed to have a number of things in common, remarking, my innocence notwithstanding, the details do fit. By this point, detectives David Toskey and William Armstrong had been leading the Zodiac

investigation for close to seven years. In September 1976, Armstrong requested to be reassigned elsewhere, while Toskey remained committed to the case. In an interview with the examiner, Toskey explained what drove him to pursue the case so doggedly, quote, I'll get to him one day and I'll bring him to justice. That's my motivation, justice. I'm not a vengeful type, but when a life is taken, there must be justice. Toskey acquired a celebrity status within San Francisco's police department, earning ongoing praise from the public and becoming the inspiration for police characters in the popular films Dirty Harry and Bullet. The public revered the hard-working inspector,

with one girl writing him a letter that read, I imagine you see a lot of terrible, sad things, but I want you to know that in this crazy world of crooked people, you are a very special policeman. By late 1976, Detective Toskey had just seven years to go until he could retire from the police force. His mission was to solve the Zodiac case before then. As his seventh year on the case approached, he told the San Francisco examiner he was watching his mailbox to see if he received an anniversary card from the Zodiac. But the anniversary came and went without a word, and another year passed with no breakthroughs. By April of 1978, it had been more than four years since the last confirmed letter from the Zodiac had arrived, and some had started to wonder if

perhaps the killer had died without ever being identified. All that changed on April 25 when an envelope appeared at the San Francisco Chronicle addressed to the editor. Inside was a short note written in familiar handwriting that concluded with the Zodiac's crosshair signature. It read, Dear editor, this is the Zodiac speaking. I am back with you. I have always been here. That city pig Toskey is good, but I am smarter and better. He will get tired, then leave me alone. I am waiting for a good movie about me. Who will play me? I am now in control of things. The return of the Zodiac excited Detective Toskey and nerves kicked in. He held a press conference, stating, I have always felt he was alive and out there,

somewhere. I still don't know where he is, but at least now I know that all our work all these years definitely has not been in vain. When San Francisco Chronicle columnist Armistead Morpin read the latest Zodiac letter, he paused. There was something odd about it. The Zodiac had never singled out an individual police officer before, and now he'd mentioned Detective Toskey by name. This stood out to Armistead because of something he was keeping secret. Armistead had been writing a murder mystery series for the paper, and Toskey had been kind enough to provide him with valuable insights into homicide investigations to give his story a more authentic feel. Armistead was so inspired that he created a character

based on Toskey. His readers were so impressed that three of them wrote flattering letters of praise about Toskey and thanked Armistead for writing about him. However, there was something about the letters that Armistead couldn't ignore. All three had been typed on the same typewriter. He was certain that the letters had actually been written by Detective Toskey himself. Armistead felt so embarrassed for Toskey that he kept this belief to himself, that now he had a more troubling concern. Could Toskey have also written the latest Zodiac letter to bring the case back into the spotlight? Armistead reported his suspicions, and Toskey was confronted by his superiors. He admitted to sending the fan mail to Armistead,

but steadfastly denied having anything to do with the most recent Zodiac letter. An investigation confirmed he was telling the truth. Although they couldn't be certain, authorities were convinced the latest letter was genuinely written by the Zodiac killer. However, the damage to Toskey's reputation had been done. On July 10, 1978, Detective Toskey was officially removed from the Zodiac case and demoted. It was a mortifying fall from grace for the celebrity detective. Over the next few years, the case continued to lag. As the Zodiac murders were committed across four separate jurisdictions, there were multiple agencies involved. This had led to a messy and unwieldy investigation, which was further hindered by

competitiveness, as each department strived to be the one that cracked the case. In 1981, California's Department of Justice was given all relevant files and asked to coordinate the investigation. One Vallejo detective publicly regretted that this hadn't happened sooner, stating if the Justice Department had controlled the case from the beginning, the Zodiac would be behind bars now. By December 1990, the investigation had entered its fourth decade. The Vallejo Police Department received word that an inmate in Santa Clara County Jail wanted to come clean with some information he'd been holding on to. He claimed to know the identity of the Zodiac killer and agreed to hand it over in exchange for a reduction of his sentence. Although skeptical, two Vallejo

detectives traveled to Santa Clara to visit the man. He was 50-year-old career criminal, Robert Spinelli, who was facing charges for armed robbery. Spinelli agreed to divulge what he knew, but only if the charges against him were dropped. The detectives flat-out refused, asking Spinelli how he could be so certain he had the right person. Spinelli said that several days before taxi driver Paul Stein was murdered, a man he knew told him he was going to San Francisco to kill a cab driver. Spinelli refused to share the man's name, but was eventually convinced to do so by his lawyer. The man's name was Arthur Lee Allen. Investigators had never stopped considering Allen as a Zodiac suspect. This was despite the fact that his fingerprints did not match

any of the possible Zodiac prints on record, and Allen had never been known to wear black-framed glasses like the Zodiac did. In 1977, Allen was released from a Tascadero state hospital after serving a two-year sentence for child molestation charges. Now, with the statement from Robert Spinelli, he'd been named in the Zodiac case again more than a decade later. Detectives weren't sure whether Spinelli was telling the truth or just had a former score to settle with Allen, but there were certain factors that sparked their interest. Firstly, Allen had never been publicly named as a suspect in the case. And secondly, during the period Allen was incarcerated, the Zodiac hadn't sent any new letters.

It was only in the months following his release that the chronicle received the final letter that began, I'm back. On February 14, 1991, police executed a search warrant at Allen's home in Vallejo and found a number of suspicious items. There were several mail order catalogues featuring guns and booby traps and an older royal typewriter with a late type. This was believed to be the same model typewriter that Sherry Joe Bates's killer had used to compose his confession. Handwritten formulas and supplies for bomb making were also discovered. And in the property's basement, police found several completed pipe bombs. This startled them, as one of the Zodiac's letters had mentioned storing a bomb in his basement. Police also found a letter from

investigator James Silver of the Department of Justice, which stated that Allen had passed a polygraph examination and should no longer be considered a suspect in the Zodiac case. Police thought this was odd and questioned Allen about it. He admitted he'd printed the letter during his time working in the Atascadero Hospital print shop, but maintained that it was authentic. James Silver denied this, saying he would never write such a letter. Nothing was found that tied Allen to any of the Zodiac victims, but police confiscated this letter and his Zodiac branded watch as evidence. Allen was furious. He decided it was finally time to break his silence. In July 1991, Allen gave his side of the story to news reporters, insisting he had

passed polygraph tests that confirmed he was not the Zodiac. He'd told the San Francisco Examiner, this damned thing has been haunting me for 22 years. No way in hell could I go out and kill innocent teeny bobbers. No way. But with the police, I'm guilty until I'm proven innocent, and I figure the case will be around until I die. Retired Vallejo Detective George Bowert was one of the investigators convinced that Allen was the Zodiac and persisted in his hunt for evidence. Bowert tracked down Zodiac survivor Michael Majo and took him a photo lineup of possible suspects. Michael scanned his eyes over the images looking for familiar features. He singled out a photo of an overweight, balding man and said,

That's him. That's the man who shot me. It was Arthur Lee Allen. Investigators continued to focus on Allen, prompting a review into all previous correspondence from the Zodiac. The first cipher sent to the San Francisco Chronicle in 1969, dubbed the 408 Cipher, ended with a final line that had never been officially decoded. At the time, one citizen who was interested in the case said he'd found a solution that translated into the words Robert Emmett the hippie. Investigators had searched for a Robert Emmett with no success. In August of 1992, detectives made a breakthrough. They discovered that Allen had gone to high school with a boy named Robert Emmett Rodifer. Robert had gone on to study at the University

of California Berkeley, during which time he became a hippie. He and Allen had never gotten along. Investigators managed to track Robert down in Germany. He confirmed that he knew Allen as a teenager, and suspected that Allen held a grudge against him out of jealousy. Over the years, detectives had amassed a case file of circumstantial evidence pointing to Allen as the prime suspect of the Zodiac killings. On August 26, 1992, they received some unexpected news. 58-year-old Allen had passed away. Initial speculation was that he had taken his own life, unable to cope with being labeled the Zodiac anymore. Though authorities were disappointed that their suspect had died before any charges

could be laid, Allen's death did present one opportunity. It meant they could search his Vallejo home again. The next morning, detectives descended on Allen's modest Spanish mission-style house. Inside, they found strips of paper containing mathematical calculations and another set of instructions for bomb building. However, it was during a search of a bookcase that detectives discovered what they were searching for. Crammed in amongst the books was a VHS tape. Written on the tape was a single letter, Z. Detectives inserted the tape into a VCR and pressed play. Allen appeared on screen, holding his pet dog. As the tape progressed, Allen began ranting about

the Vallejo police department. Any hope that Allen would confess to being the Zodiac killer dissipated, when instead of confessing, Allen pulled down his pants and mooned the camera. Dejected, Captain Ron Conway fronted the media but refused to discuss the search or the findings. He did put one room at a rest. Allen had not taken his own life. An autopsy confirmed he died of natural causes. Still, the captain was steadfast in his resolve that detectives would not give up, stating, It is still an ongoing criminal investigation. Allen's death has not changed that. In late 2000, an important package arrived at the San Francisco Police DNA crime lab. Inside the parcel were several stamped envelopes. Scientists assigned to the case

carefully removed the stamps from the envelopes, which all read, Please rush to editor. Improvements in DNA testing meant it was now possible that the saliva used to affix the stamps to the Zodiac envelopes could undoubtedly prove whether Arthur Lee Allen was the killer. The first step was to establish whether a DNA profile could be made from the stamps in the first place. Scientists were in luck. A partial profile was extracted from one of the stamps. A DNA profile for Allen was also extracted from brain tissue taken during his autopsy. It was a long and painstaking process held up by other active investigations which required urgent results. Two years later, the results were finally made public. Allen's genetic

profile was not a match to the Zodiac stamp. By early 2004, the San Francisco Police Department had been investigating the Zodiac case for nearly 35 years. It had become one of the longest-running and most frustrating unsolved cases in the city's history. On April 8, 2004, the department announced that due to their overwhelming caseload, the Zodiac file was being declared inactive. Although they had more DNA on file that was yet to be tested, the crime lab was overloaded and more recent cases were given priority. All evidence relating to the Zodiac was locked away in a filing cabinet in the homicide office, with no intention of it being unlocked anytime soon.

Detectives in Napa Valley and Valejo kept their Zodiac files open, but for the first time since taxi driver Paul Stein was murdered, there would be no one in San Francisco actively investigating the serial killings. Three years later, it was reopened after the release of director David Fincher's film Zodiac sparked renewed interest in the case. The movie was based on a book by Robert Graysmith, a political cartoonist who'd worked for the San Francisco Chronicle during the period that the Zodiac sent letters to the newspaper. He'd become fascinated by the case and spent more than a decade trying to solve it. Graysmith was so convinced that Arthur Lee Allen was the Zodiac that he came under fire for twisting facts in order to make Allen look more suspicious.

He withheld Allen's name in the book, instead naming him Bob Hall Star. Detective David Toskey was portrayed by actor Mark Ruffalo, who prepared for the role by spending time with the aging former detective. Like Robert Graysmith, Toskey remained convinced that Arthur Lee Allen was the killer, despite his DNA not matching the profile taken from the Zodiac stamp. On January 6th 2018, Toskey passed away from pneumonia in his San Francisco home. Graysmith penned his obituary for the New York Times, in which he noted, Dave Toskey cared about the victims far more than catching the Zodiac. And in this, he never failed. On March 3, 2007, almost 38 years after the first letter from the Zodiac killer arrived at the San

Francisco Chronicle, editorial assistant Daniel King was sorting through old photo files. As he flicked through them, a bright red envelope caught his eye. It was addressed to the editor in a familiar print. The envelope was postmarked from Eureka, California and dated December 1990. It's seal was still intact, meaning it had sat unopened for 16 years. Inside was a Christmas card, depicting a cartoon snowman wearing a Groucho Marks-inspired mask and a pre-printed message that read, From your secret pal, can't guess who I am yet. Well, look inside and you'll find out. That I'm gonna keep you guessing.

Happy holidays, anyway. The card wasn't signed and there was no personalized message, but a slip of folded paper was enclosed within. It contained a black and white photocopy of two United States Postal Service keys on a metal keychain. There was no explanation accompanying the image. Document examiners studied the writing on the envelope and debated whether it was an authentic Zodiac correspondence or a hoax. Researcher Tom Boyd, who operates the website ZodiacKiller.com, eventually traced the

identification numbers on the keys to a man who owned a post office box in Eureka. The man was looked into by police, but ruled out of the Zodiac investigation. The significance of the keys remains unknown. Over the decades, the mystery of the Zodiac Killer has created as much speculation amongst armchair detectives as it has for the case investigators. Amateur sleuths have formed their own task forces and met at the crime scenes to discuss their theories. Websites and online forums dedicated to dissecting every detail of the case have many devoted followers. Meanwhile, law enforcement agencies haven't given up hope that

the killer will one day be identified. Although Arthur Lee Allen's DNA ruled him out as a suspect, in 2018 a startling new revelation came to light. The DNA sample tested against Allen's had actually been obtained from the outside of one of the Zodiac's stamps. This meant the sample could have come from any number of individuals who had handled the mail in addition to the real Zodiac Killer. Even if Allen was responsible for the Zodiac letters, it's possible that he didn't lick the stamps himself. Several of Allen's acquaintances have since reported that he often asked them to lick stamps for him, as he couldn't stand the taste. One of these was his former friend Donald Cheney, who was responsible for naming Allen as a suspect.

In response to these allegations, Donald's DNA was tested against the sample taken from the Zodiac stamp. It wasn't a match either. To this day, a range of individuals have been accused of being the Zodiac, with varying levels of evidence and acceptance. Infamous murderers have been considered, including Killer Colt the Manson family, the Unabomber Ted Kozinski and the BTK serial killer Dennis Rader. Other suspects have had connections to confirmed or assumed victims, including a Riverside City College library assistant, a staff member at the casino where Donna Lass worked, a British automobile importer, and someone who went to the same schools as David Faraday and Betty Lou Jensen. A repeat offender named Lawrence Kane was scrutinized for his

possible ties to both confirmed and unconfirmed Zodiac victims. Darlene Farron's sisters claimed Kane was the man who had lurked in a white car outside Darlene's home after she claimed to have seen him kill someone. Kane also moved to South Lake Tahoe one month after Donna Lass and worked very close by to her. A popular suspect amongst internet sleuths today is Richard Gajkowski. A former US Army medic, Gajkowski had several circumstantial ties to Zodiac victims and crime scenes and occasionally went by the nickname Gajk, a word that can be seen clearly at the center of the Zodiac's 408 cipher, though the spelling is slightly off. Ultimately, no concrete evidence has ever been found to

incriminate either of these men. One person made a deathbed confession to being the Zodiac. Another did the same, but to an attorney, ensuring attorney-client privilege would secure his secret until he passed away. A merchant mariner, a newspaper editor, and an identity thief have also been considered as the Zodiac. Various people have come forward to accuse their friends and even family members of being the Zodiac. Despite years of ongoing investigations, the suspect list is as long as ever. Given the Zodiac was only ever known in broad strokes, many people could have fit the bill. Then there is the Zodiac hoax theory, in which some believe the killer never existed. Those who actually saw or spoke to the killer have identified

different people as being responsible. In 2021, an independent team of 40 former law enforcement investigators, military intelligence officers, and journalists named the casebreakers claimed they had identified the Zodiac killer as a deceased U.S. Air Force veteran named Gary Francis Post. This conclusion, like all the others, is based on circumstantial evidence and has not yet been proven. Complicating matters are the litany of pranksters and hoaxes that donned the Zodiac identity throughout the years. There is a distinct difference between the Zodiac who seems to encompass these types and more, and the actual Zodiac killer, the individual responsible for the crimes. As the lines have been blurred between these two identities over the years, it can be

impossible to determine what correspondence or incidents is attributed to either. In 1967, the father of stabbing victim Sherry Joe Bates, Riverside Police and the Press Enterprise editorial officers, received anonymous handwritten letters warning of more victims to come. All three letters were signed with a symbol that resembled the letter Z. For years, it was hotly speculated and at some points firmly believed that these letters were penned by the Zodiac long before he adopted the title. These letters led to the belief that Sherry Joe was the first Zodiac victim, and while he later made vague reference to her murder, the killer never fully took credit for it. Handwriting experts had compared his handwriting

to the Sherry Joe Bates letters and concluded they were a match. In 2021, detectives fronting the Sherry Joe Bates case came forward with information they had kept to themselves since 2016. That year, the Riverside Police received an anonymous letter printed from a computer and postmarked from San Bernardino, California. The author claimed to be the person who sent the original handwritten letters following Sherry Joe's murder, warning of more deaths to come. In the newest letter, the author revealed that he was a troubled teen in 1967, and the letters were nothing more than a sick joke. He denied killing Sherry Joe, or being the Zodiac killer.

Investigators confirmed his link to the handwritten notes via DNA recovered from a stamp, and were able to definitively rule him out as being responsible for Sherry Joe's murder. Although the handwritten letters were deemed a hoax, the prankster didn't claim responsibility for the separate typed confession. This typed letter is still considered authentic, given that it contained information that only her killer would know. Riverside investigators have never supported the theory that Sherry Joe Bates was killed by the Zodiac. They had another prime suspect in mind, a former high school acquaintance of Sherry Joe's who came to their attention in 1981. He'd been spotted near the library around the time of

Sherry Joe's murder, wore a similar size shoe to the prints found at the crime scene, and owned a wristwatch like the one recovered there. By mid-1982, detectives were hopeful of arresting this man imminently. But they failed to gather enough evidence, and the suspect's name was never released. Years later, detectives' certainty about this person's involvement was quashed, when advancements in DNA technology confirmed that he wasn't the perpetrator. The only two people known to have directly interacted with the Zodiac no longer talk publicly about the crimes. Shooting survivor Michael Majo struggled with substance abuse and homelessness in the years following his ordeal, while Brian Hartnell, who was stabbed by the

Zodiac at Lake Berryassa, has chosen not to speak in recent years. In March 2008, Brian spoke to Inland Empire Magazine about his decision to cease talking, saying, There were two reasons why I quit giving interviews. One, everything that could be said had been said. And the second reason was the Zodiac was a publicity hound. If I'm out there giving interviews, talking, keeping my face in the news, I'm taking the attention away from him. He may view that as a threat to him and decide to eliminate the competition. In 2018, a genealogy website was used to identify a prolific serial rapist and killer known as the Golden State Killer, whose crimes were covered in episode 53 of Case File.

After the perpetrator's arrest, an increasing number of law enforcement agencies began turning to genealogy databases to help with criminal investigations. Investigators have confirmed that the potential DNA samples collected from Zodiac crime scenes and documents have been sent to a private lab in the hopes a full genetic profile can be created. If successful, they will be able to run it through genealogy databases in the hopes of linking the Zodiac to a relative. Even if the killer is deceased, a match could still be made and the case could finally be closed. The database grows bigger every year and technology continues to improve, increasing the possibility that the Zodiac will one day be identified.

Despite the lack of answers, one of the smaller remaining mysteries surrounding the Zodiac killer was unexpectedly solved in December 2020. Two computer programmers and a mathematician decided to try their hand at cracking the Zodiac's 340 cipher from 1969. It had been sent just weeks after a man identified only as Sam called into the Jim Dunbar television show claiming to be the Zodiac. Using code-breaking software that one of the men had created, they tested 650,000 possible solutions through a system of trial and error. Finally, after months of attempts, some interesting words emerged. Hope you were trying to catch me was the first phrase. Or the gas chamber was the second.

Soon, the man had solved the entire message. It read, I hope you are having lots of fun in trying to catch me. That wasn't me on the TV show, which brings up a point about me. I am not afraid of the gas chamber, because it will send me to paradise all the sooner, because I now have enough slaves to work for me. Where everyone else has nothing when they reach paradise, so they are afraid of death. I am not afraid, because I know that my new life is life will be an easy one in paradise, death. Like previous Zodiac correspondence, the word paradise had been misspelled with a C instead of an S. Overall, the code-breaking trio were disheartened by the message they had managed

to crack 51 years after it was sent. It contained no revelation about the killer's identity. One of the code-breakers, David Oranchak, told the New York Times that he didn't see how the solution would be helpful to the victim's loved ones. Quote, The message in that cipher, I don't see it as being helpful to them. It's more of the same junk that the killer liked to write about. It's just intended to hurt people and to make them afraid. An enduring mystery about the Zodiac is his number of victims. By the time he stopped taunting people, the killer had claimed to have killed 37 people. Police have only attributed five murders to the Zodiac. David Faraday, 17, Betty Lou Jensen,

16, Darlene Farron, 22, Cecilia Shepard, 22, and Paul Stein, 29. To this day, the murder of Sherry Joe Bates remains unsolved. Other unsolved cases throughout California have since been examined for possible Zodiac links. The 1962 shooting murder of cab driver Ray Davis in Oceanside bears striking similarities to Paul Stein's murder and featured a killer who made taunting phone calls to police before and after the fact. The 1963 shooting murders of Robert Dominguez and Linda Edwards in Gaviota were also highlighted as a possible Zodiac crime, due to it involving a young couple at a beach. Robert and Linda were restrained with pre-cut rope, much like Cecilia Shepard and Brian Hartnell

at Lake Berryessa. But unlike the latter, Robert and Linda managed to escape and were gunned down while fleeing. Their assailant is believed to have also been armed with a knife. In both crimes, the perpetrator ordered the female to tie up her male companion at gunpoint. Brian Hartnell recalled the Zodiac had tested and tightened his restraints, which could be interpreted as a precautionary measure he might have learned from a previous failed attempt. Eight months later, newlyweds Johnny and Joyce Swindle were gunned down by the sea in Ocean Beach. All of these crimes share remarkable similarities, including the fact that they were seemingly random and motive-less. More recently, law enforcement has

considered whether these crimes detailed in episode one of this series could have been committed by the Zodiac before he adopted the title. While there is enough to hint that these crimes might be where the serial killer's origin story begins, opinions remain divided. Of the many people suspected for several of these crimes is an unidentified man known only as Sandy. Sandy is a fake name used by a transient young man and petty criminal who came to the attention of police in 1963 after stabbing a man to death during a robbery. He was known to wear military clothing and a pair of black, thick-rimmed eyeglasses. Sandy desired, above all else, to obtain a gun. He has never been located. Composite sketches of Sandy bear a striking

similarity to sketches of the Zodiac. Some have speculated that Sandy may have been responsible for killing Robert Dominguez and Linda Edwards and that their deaths marked the beginning of the Zodiac's attacks. On June 26, 1963, an open letter to the unidentified killer known as Sandy was published in the Lompoc Record. While Sandy may have no connection at all to the Zodiac case, the words delivered a powerful message that could have been written especially for the unidentified serial killer as well. The letter read, If you are guilty, you will pay, even if you remain free and continue to run for many years. Guilt has a way of weighing heavily upon a man, often more heavily than all the retribution a court can exact. So if you continue to run,

you must forever move with this shadow lurking behind you, blocking all your attempts to gain peace and happiness. I am sure you have heard the old saying, let your conscience be your guide. Well, it is just as true that your conscience can be your hell, unless you find a way to make peace with it. All of these troubles you will find within yourself in that place known as your soul. But you face other problems too. Every place you turn for food, work, money, in sickness or in need of any sort will mean a fight. You will have to fight the fear within you, for you will be afraid that they know and will tell. One day, somewhere along the road, you will stop and think, and then you will know that for all

of the time you have been running, you have been in a prison of your own making. One likely far worse than any devised by modern justice. And one built by you, because you did not find the courage to clear your name or to face the responsibilities of your own actions.