Casefile True Crime - Case 53: The Golden State Killer (Part 6)

Episode Date: December 5, 2020

[Part 6] This is the final instalment in a Casefile series that was first released in 2017. It covers recent developments in the case and mentions incidents detailed in previous episodes. If you haven’t already, we recommend you go back and listen to the first five parts of Case 53: The East Area Rapist before proceeding with Part Six. Episode narrated by the Anonymous Host Researched and written by Elsha McGill, Erin Munro and Milly Raso Creative Director: Milly Raso For all credits and sources please visit casefilepodcast.com/case-53-the-golden-state-killer-part-6

Come on over. You'll love our backyard. The kids will have a blast. There's always an extra seat at our table. New Brunswick, always inviting. Visit tourismnewbrunswick.ca 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. Hello? Hello? Male, 20 to 25 years of age but could be younger. Approximately 5 feet 9 to 5 feet 11 inches tall. Lean but muscular. Pale blue or hazel eyes. Size 9 shoe. Small penis. Higher pitched voice than the average male. Likely left handed.

You go back to people that were in the community at the time and they all had, remember, the aesarea rapist. They might have forgotten about, you know, all of the other crimes and murders and the things that happened that they've never forgotten about the aesarea rapist in the community. Fear, fear, fear was the emotion. Fear. What is next? What is he here for? What is he going to do? It must be somebody we know, somebody you see on a regular basis because obviously he did not stand out. The magnitude of this case demanded that it be solved. There were upwards of 50 rapes, 12 murders, crimes that spanned 10 years across at least 10 different counties, northern, central and southern California. One day we're going to be in that courtroom and he's going to walk in because they found him. What I want to say to him is look out. Your secrets are going to come out. So you need to look out. Everything that you've done, all of the horrendous things that you've done to people. That can't stay secret forever. The truth is going to come out sometime. So you need to get ready. This is the final installment in a case file series that was first released in 2017. It covers recent developments in the case and mentions incidents detailed in previous episodes.

If you haven't already, we recommend you go back and listen to the first five parts of Case 53, The East Area Rapist, before proceeding with Part 6. In early 1975, Beth Snelling was overcome with a growing sense of unease. The 16-year-old's instincts were telling her that she was being watched. She couldn't attribute the feeling to a specific individual, but was certain her stalker was a man. Beth wasn't the only one to feel this way. Many other women in her neighborhood were plagued by a similar worry. Beth lived with her parents and two younger brothers in the small Californian city of Visalia, in the sprawling agricultural valley of San Joaquin. Situated halfway between Los Angeles and San Francisco, Visalia is the gateway to the Sequoias. The Sequoia, Yosemite and King's Canyon National Parks are located nearby, making Visalia a popular rest stop for visitors to the forest. In the 1970s, Visalia's neighborhoods consisted of bungalows or ranch-style houses nestled close together on grid-like blocks.

Back then, there was a strong community atmosphere. Locals were friendly and familiar, and the city felt safe. Houses were left open day and night. Even the lack of streetlights wasn't a concern. There was nothing to fear in the darkness. But this confidence started to dissipate by the mid-70s. Residents suddenly had a reason to close their windows and lock their doors. It was a warm night on February 10, 1975. Beth Snelling was home with her mother and brothers. The family's air conditioner stopped working recently, and they had yet to fix it. Before she climbed into bed that night, Beth opened her bedroom window to let in a cool breeze. By 10 o'clock, she was sound asleep, completely unaware that her stalker was outside her open window, peering in. Some would later speculate that he had broken the air conditioning unit so a family member would be forced to leave a window open.

Staged or not, the man got what he wanted. Beth's father, Claude, returned home from the College of the Sequoias, where he worked as a journalism professor. As he pulled up to his house on Whitney Lane, he spotted the figure standing at Beth's window. It was a white man with collar-length hair, between 5'10 and 6' tall, wearing a dark plaid, long-sleeved shirt. Realizing he'd been spotted, the man bolted. Claude gave chase, but he lost the creep in the darkness. Crushed into the dirt outside Beth's window were shoe prints from a pair of men's size 9 tennis shoes. Local police already had them on file. The Visalia ransacker had struck again. In early April 1974, Visalia police were called to South Belinda Vista Street following reports of a break-in.

A house had been ransacked during the night while the homeowners were away. Curiously, only a piggy bank containing a small amount of coins was stolen. By the end of the month, four houses had been burgled, three on the same street. Fifteen houses were targeted in the following month of May. Mostly sentimental trinkets although value items were stolen. Guns and ammunition were also reported missing. Other times, the offender would leave empty-handed. The level of destruction was beyond that of a typical burglary. Furniture was upended, belongings vandalized, clothes tossed about.

The perpetrator spent hours inside each home and even raided the kitchen for drinks and snacks. Ice cream was his favorite. Afterwards, he'd flee through unlit parks, alleyways, ditches and trails to avoid witnesses. He always wore gloves, aware that fingerprints were the primary means of solving crime. Local police had no idea who was responsible but knew they were up against a cunning and cautious criminal who understood police procedure. They dubbed it the unknown offender, the Visalia ransacker. Only one incident was reported in June. Two months of silence followed, then a single break-in in September. For a moment, it seemed like the crime spree was winding down.

Then, it fired back up in October. Around this time, police received an unconfirmed report of a prowler on south of Verde Vista Street. The ransacker took advantage of the Thanksgiving holiday by going from house to house while families were away. He carried out 13 burglaries over that weekend, 22 in the entire month. His attacks were clustered in a small pocket of neighborhoods in the southern part of town. Instead of expanding, he would return to the same houses over and over. One was ransacked four times in two months. A motive emerged in late December.

On the 22nd, the ransacker broke into a house, masturbated, and smeared lotion and bodily fluids everywhere. Over the next three nights, he was spotted peeping into windows to spy on women. Police were able to lift his shoe prints from around the exterior of many homes. Early the following year, a homeowner interrupted the ransacker mid-crime, but he managed to escape. Unlike other opportunistic burglars, the ransacker meticulously planned his attacks to minimize the risk of being caught. He'd monitor a target house until he memorized the schedules of all those who lived there. At all hours, night after night, he'd call the residents. If someone picked up, he'd end the call without a word.

These hang-up calls continued until there was no answer. That's when he knew no one was home, and it was time to strike. His calling cards were left all over a property. Mesh screams removed from windows in order to give him multiple exit points. Chairs wedged against the doors and chain locks in place to slow down anyone who'd interrupt him. Cans or dishes in front of doors or balanced on handles to act as early warning devices. His sexual deviancy heightened over time. He continued to masturbate in homes.

He'd gather up women's undergarments and toss them around. Panties were piled on top of pillows, bras lined up on display, lingerie and nightgowns laid out in a pattern. He stole photographs depicting young women, teens and girls. Despite the escalation in his behaviour, Visalia police considered the ransacker a relatively harmless nuisance. Beth Snelling never shook the feeling that the Visalia ransacker was watching her. Six months after he was sighted at her window, Beth still feared his presence. One night, she aired her concerns to her boyfriend as the pair hung out in her bedroom. Her boyfriend asked,

What would you do if we opened the window blind and saw him standing outside? Beth told him to do it. He stood at the window, pulled back the blinds and was hit with a wave of terror. Standing on the other side of the glass was the ransacker, looking in. Beth screamed. Her boyfriend and brother rushed out to confront the man, but he had run off. The ransacker continued to torment the Snelling's. Weeks after he was spotted at Beth's window for the second time, he accessed their house and broke into Claude's vehicles.

In early September, there were reports of several more ransacker-related incidents on Whitney Lane and nearby streets. Then, at 7pm on the 10th, Beth heard a noise outside her window. She looked out, but it was too dark to see if anyone was there. The following night, Beth woke at 2am, struggling to breathe. A person was lying prone on top of her. She initially thought it was one of her brothers playing a prank, until she saw a pair of angry eyes glaring down at her through a ski mask. He was pressing a gloved hand against her mouth. Beth tried to wriggle out from beneath his heavy weight, but couldn't.

He spoke in a low, whispery growl. Don't scream, or I'll stab you. It was the Visalia ransacker. Beth couldn't see a knife. She complied anyway. He lifted his hand from her mouth. You're coming with me. He took a handgun from his back pocket, a .38 caliber Maruku revolver that he had stolen from a house two weeks earlier.

He used his free hand to pull Beth away from her room. She asked what he was doing and why. The ransacker didn't respond. His actions seemed deliberate and effortless, like he had planned this moment step by step. Up ahead, the door in the kitchen leading out to the backyard was open. Sobbing, Beth made a last ditch effort to save herself. She dug her feet into the floor, which made a loud noise. But the ransacker was strong.

He forced her through the doorway and out into the night. His threat was even more menacing now. Don't scream, or I'll shoot you. The Visalia ransacker dragged Beth through the backyard towards a gate at the rear of the snelling property. Suddenly, a voice cried out, Hey, behind them, Claude Snelling stood at the back door of the house in his pajamas. He'd been woken by the strange noises and went to investigate, unaware the sounds were Beth desperately fighting off an abductor. He yelled,

What's going on? What are you doing? Where are you going with my daughter? The ransacker immediately let go of Beth. She collapsed to the ground, exhausted and in shock. Claude raced towards them, shouting questions. As Claude neared the fence, the ransacker raised his gun and shot him twice. He then aimed at Beth. She curled into a ball and turned away in fearful anticipation. Her head was then struck by a heavy blow, but it wasn't a bullet.

The ransacker had opted not to shoot Beth. Instead, he wielded his firearm like a club and struck her with it. He then kicked her repeatedly before fleeing. Claude Snelling died from his injuries. This was the first time the Vysalia ransacker had attempted an abduction and, in the process, committed murder. After this, Vysalia police increased their patrols and stakeouts of the ransackers known hotspots. It did little to deter him. Then, phones started ringing at the homes of his previous victims.

It was the ransacker calling to taunt and threaten them. I know you're home alone and I'm going to come over and fuck you. Later that month, a previous victim of the ransacker was home alone when she heard someone trying to open her front door. She looked through the peephole, but the person on the other side covered it up. She was certain it was the ransacker. After failing to get in, he seemingly gave up and left. Less than an hour later, the phone rang. The line was silent, so the woman hung up.

Five minutes passed, then the phone rang again. This time, the mail caller spoke. It was him. The ransacker referred to the woman by name and asked, How would you like to get fucked? West Kawia Avenue in Central Visalia had been hit by the ransacker on multiple occasions. At house number 1501, 19-year-old Debbie Ward happened to cross paths with the offender. He was wearing a ski mask and was descending an external staircase that led to an apartment space above Debbie's house.

Caught by surprise, the ransacker grabbed Debbie, then pushed her out the way, causing her to tumble down the steps. By the time police arrived, he was long gone. Debbie recalled his blue eyes, heavy set build, and strong muscular arms. Over the following months, she suspected the prowler was still lurking around, watching her through her bedroom and bathroom windows. Her fears were confirmed when his shoe prints were found outside. The ransacker had no discernible pattern. Sometimes he'd strike multiple homes in the same street.

On other occasions, incidents were recorded all over town. But his prowling was more consistent. Once he'd chosen a victim, he'd usually return to her house time and time again. Thus, Debbie Ward's house was placed under police surveillance. December 10, 1975 marked the third night of the stakeout of 1501 West Cahuilla Avenue. Detective Bill McGowan was positioned inside the next-door neighbor's garage, keeping an eye out for the ransacker. By now, the police had an accurate idea of what he looked like based on multiple witness descriptions. At 8.30pm, McGowan was observing the street through a window in the garage,

when he glimpsed a person crouching behind some shrubbery. It was a white man, aged 25 to 35, around 5'10 and 180 pounds. He was wearing a brown and green camouflage jacket, blue jeans, a pair of low-top, dark-colored tennis shoes, and brown cotton gloves. A thick stocking cap or ski mask was rolled up on his head. It was the ransacker. He crept along until he reached the garage where McGowan lay in wait. Then he stopped and peered through the window.

Inside, McGowan remained still and silent. A short while later, the ransacker turned and continued onwards on his path. The detective was relieved. He hadn't been spotted. He emerged from the garage and silently followed the ransacker around the building's exterior, towards the ward residence. The ransacker reached a gate in a tall white-pigot fence to the side of the property that led in to the ward's backyard. As he began tampering with the gate's lock, McGowan raised his flashlight and switched it on. Police officer, hold it right there. He got a good look at the ransacker's round and clean shaven face.

He had a cleft in his chin, a wide jaw, and a nose with a distinctive shape when viewed side-on. He had short, light-blonde hair styled in a military-esque way, longer on top and parted on the side. The ransacker was startled. In a high-pitched, trembling voice, he cried out, Oh my God! Oh no! Please don't hurt me! It appeared as though he was going to surrender, but instead, he turned and scrambled over the gate. McGowan rushed to the fence, pulled out his gun, and fired a warning shot into the ground. Stop or I'll shoot!

The ransacker halted dead in his tracks on the other side, about five feet away. McGowan raised his flashlight and watched him through the gaps between the pickets. The ransacker turned away slightly and yelled, Look! My hands are up! But only one hand was raised. The other was tucked into his jacket pocket. In a split second, he pulled out his own handgun, turned to face the detective, and fired. By the time backup arrived, Bill McGowan was on the ground and the ransacker was gone.

Luckily, his bullet had hit the lens of McGowan's flashlight. The impact had knocked the detective off his feet, and his right eye was injured by flying shrapnel. Aside from this wound, he came away from the experience relatively unscathed. His description of the ransacker facilitated a highly detailed suspect sketch that was published in local papers. This prompted an abrupt end to the Visalia ransackers' crime spree. Police suspected he now feared being recognized and had no choice but to keep a low profile. All up, he'd committed 120 burglaries. Six months later, a man broke into a house in Rancho Cordova, 200 miles northwest of Visalia, and raped a woman.

This marked the beginning of a harrowing three-year crime spree that terrified communities across Northern California. It followed a pattern, stalk, break and enter, restrain, and rape. The unknown predator became known as the East Area Rapist. Rancho Cordova, an inland city in Sacramento County, remained one of these hunting grounds. There were consistent reports of a prowler, break-ins, minor thefts, gates and doors being left open, shoe prints found under windows, and hang-up phone calls. By late January 1978, the East Area Rapist had committed 29 sexual assaults, five of which occurred in Rancho Cordova. He hadn't hit the city for almost a year, but its residents hadn't heard the last of him.

That month, the rapist made his presence known again. Countless hang-up calls were reported, as was heavy prowler activity. On the evening of February 2, someone tried to open a rear sliding door that led into the home of a woman who lived alone. The culprit wasn't able to get in, as she'd recently installed a backup security device. At exactly eight o'clock that same night, the eighth night in a row, a woman who lived with her two daughters on the Gloria Way received a hang-up call. Just over an hour later, police were called to a property across the road. In the backyard was the body of Brian Majuri.

He'd sustained gunshot wounds to his chest and neck. On a narrow side of the yard, on the eastern edge of the residence, lay his wife, Katie. She'd been shot in the head. The young newlyweds were gunned down while out on an evening walk. The crime itself wasn't typical of the East Area Rapist, but curiously, a navy blue shoelace was found in the grass 12 feet from Brian's body. It had been tied in a double loop at one end, just like ligatures fashioned by the East Area Rapist. However, he was ruled out as a suspect.

Although the rapist had threatened to kill his victims many times, he'd never followed through with it. As far as Sacramento County Sheriff's detectives were concerned, the East Area Rapist was not a killer. Visalia police detective Bill McGowan disagreed. He'd noticed the East Area Rapist bore striking physical and behavioral similarities to the Visalia Ransacka. The Ransacka's crime spree ended shortly after he killed Claude Snelling in 1975, but McGowan suspected he hadn't stopped at all. He just relocated when the whole of Visalia knew what he looked like. McGowan collated nine MOs that he believed the attackers shared.

He presented the list to the Sacramento County Sheriff's Department, which was investigating the majority of the East Area Rapist attacks. The department was skeptical and discounted six of them. The Ransacka was described as heavyset whereas the rapist was lean. They also felt it didn't make sense for an offender to escalate to the point of carrying out a murder, then de-escalate to committing rapes and leaving victims alive. Nevertheless, McGowan's theory gained momentum in policing circles and soon the Sacramento Union newspaper ran an article titled,

Rapist to Visalia, Cases Tied. In response, Sacramento detectives called the Visalia Ransacka investigation team unprofessional and irresponsible. They accused them of unnecessarily scaring Sacramento residents with an unproven theory that they labeled a publicity stunt. McGowan was undeterred, telling the Sacramento Union that he remained more convinced than ever that the Visalia Ransacka and East Area Rapist was the same man. He continued his search for the killer, even after his retirement,

asserting, we will never stop trying to find and convict him. On Saturday, July 21, 1979, 22-year-old Jeff Gardner was working at his summer job. He'd recently graduated from Sacramento State University and was planning to join the police force. Until then, he was stacking shelves and assisting customers at a pay-and-save drug store in the northern California town of Citrus Heights. As Jeff carried out his regular tasks, an ordinary-looking white man in his early 30s entered and began wandering down the aisles. The customer stopped before a shelf stocked with spray cans of dog repellent.

Jeff saw him grab one and stuff it down his trousers. Nothing in the thief's appearance indicated he was unable to afford the cheap product. He looked fit, orderly, and well-groomed. His short, light-colored hair was styled to one side and his upper lip was framed by a neatly trimmed mustache. The customer had also come to the attention of Jeff's co-worker, Ron Stillwell, and the pair decided to confront him. They escorted him to a back room where they pulled the dog repellent from the waistband of his trousers. The customer tried to run away, but Jeff quickly wrestled him to the ground

and discovered something else hidden in his pants, a hammer. The customer was frantic. In a desperate bid to escape, he faked a heart attack, apparently hoping it would compel his captors to release him. But the clerks weren't fooled. They tied him to a chair and contacted the police. By the time the Sacramento County Sheriff's deputies arrived, the customer was writhing and highly agitated. He continued to deny the accusations. The officers charged him with shoplifting.

To everyone's shock, it turned out that the customer was a police officer employed in the town of Auburn, located roughly 20 miles away. He'd adjoined the force six years earlier and had earned a good rapport with the public. Within his department, he was known as a man of few words, a serious and contemplative average Joe who was private about his personal life. He aimed to move up the law enforcement ladder, telling colleagues he wanted to achieve bigger and better things. Fellow officers couldn't understand why he would risk his career by stealing items that cost less than $20 combined. The offender remained tight lipped about his motivations.

He refused to answer investigators' questions, declined to comment to the local press, and didn't request an administrative hearing to tell his side of the story. When an acquaintance asked why he committed the crime, he simply responded, because I could. Authorities searched his house and discovered a trove of other stolen items, including brand new power tools. When the matter went to trial, the disgraced officer took the stand to profess his innocence. But the jury wasn't convinced, finding him guilty. He was sentenced to six months probation and ordered to pay a $100 fine.

Orban's chief of police, Nick Willick, had no choice but to fire his rogue officer. Publicly explaining his decision, he said, It is very important that the community have the utmost trust and faith in its officers' integrity. When this trust and faith has been compromised, officers can no longer effectively function in the community. Weeks after the shoplifting, chief Willick woke to find his four-year-old daughter sleeping on the floor beside his bed. She had crept in during the night after waking in a fright. She told her dad, There was someone looking in my bedroom with a flashlight.

Willick rushed outside. Pressed into the dirt beneath his daughter's window sill were a man's shoe prints. Although he couldn't be certain, Willick suspected that the officer he'd fired for shoplifting had come to his house to confront him. However, carpenters had been working on his property, so it was also possible that one of them had left the shoe prints. Uncertain of who was responsible, Willick decided not to report the incident. In any case, he didn't think the disgruntled former officer was capable of causing any serious harm. The news that a police officer had been arrested for shoplifting made the local paper, but the story paled in comparison to that of the East Area rapist.

He had struck again weeks earlier on July 5, 1979. On that occasion, his victims, a couple in Danville, had escaped before he was able to restrain and assault them. July concluded without any further attacks. Although the East Area rapist would sometimes go underground for brief periods, he always re-emerged. Yet the weeks turned into months, and there were no further assaults attributed to the East Area rapist. For reasons unknown, his failed July 5 attack marked the end of his reign of terror. In total, he'd committed 50 rapes. His identity remained a mystery, and the case went cold. Five months after the East Area rapist's last known attack, a serial killer dubbed the original Night Stalker emerged in California's South.

In March 1980, pathologist Dr. Peter Speth was summoned to the coastal township of Ventura. He arrived at a ranch-style house on the outskirts of town. Upon entering the premises, it was clear someone had ransacked the place. He was directed through some large, grass-sliding doors into the home's master bedroom. Lying on the bed were two partially covered bodies with their wrists and ankles tied. They were Lyman and Charlene Smith, the original Night Stalker's third and fourth victims. The couple had been bludgeoned to death with a piece of firewood. Prior to her death, Charlene was raped.

Dr. Speth knew the evidence he collected could be the key to solving the crime. He opted to put together two rape kits, one being a spare. This was a rare practice that Dr. Speth always performed as an extra precaution. The original Night Stalker went on to claim another six lives, killing ten in total. He mostly targeted couples after breaking into their homes. After binding them, he would rape the woman before almost always bludgeoning them to death. Seven years after his killing spree began, the Stalker disappeared. He was never identified and the case eventually grew cold.

Still, investigators remained captivated by the unsolved slayings for years to come. Some burmly believed that the East Area Rapist and the original Night Stalker were one and the same. Although they struck at opposite ends of California, they had near identical modus operandias and matching physical descriptions. Proponents of this theory suspected that the East Area Rapist hadn't stopped committing crimes in 1979, but instead relocated and devolved into a killer. In 1994, criminologist Paul Hulls opened an old filing cabinet and picked up a manila folder labeled EAR. One of the original investigators had told him about the cold case and, fueled by curiosity, Hulls decided to check it out. By this time, the statute of limitations had expired on all of the rapes, meaning the perpetrator couldn't be prosecuted even if he was caught.

Regardless, Hulls wanted to solve the crimes. He faced a massive undertaking. 8,000 people had been identified as suspects, many of whom had yet to be ruled out. Hulls was aware of the potential link between the rapist and the original Night Stalker, but there was little he could do to confirm this suspicion at the time. Both perpetrators' DNA was on file, having been collected from their respective crime scenes. However, Hulls didn't get an opportunity to compare the samples until 2001. By April of that year, the results were in. The DNA was a match, proving that one individual was indeed responsible for both series of crimes.

He was henceforth known as Eurons, an amalgamation of the anagrams of his two previous titles. The major breakthrough made headlines across the state. Two days after the Eurons link hit the press, a Sacramento-based victim of the East Area Rapist received a phone call. A male voice on the other line whispered, remember when we played, before hanging up. The woman recognized his voice. The East Area Rapist had a penchant for calling victims in the years after his attacks to taunt and threaten them. The calls had seemingly stopped in 1991, leading investigators to assume he had either died,

was incapacitated in some other way, or was in police custody for an unrelated matter. The April 2001 phone call was the first time he had contacted a victim in over a decade. He didn't make any further calls, but it was clear to Paul Hulls that the killer he was searching for was still out there. The original case file Euron series ended on the 2016 progress of the investigation. By this stage, there was a $50,000 reward for information leading to a conviction. However, the perpetrator wasn't even on the FBI's most wanted list. A group of Californian cold case investigators and retired detectives continued to dedicate their own time to looking into the case, including Paul Hulls. In an attempt to ease confusion, the assailant's moniker was changed to a more straightforward title.

From 2016 onwards, he was referred to as the Golden State Killer. By this time, DNA testing was an increasingly popular way for individuals to learn more about their genetic makeup and family history. Consumers could submit saliva swaps to genealogical testing companies in exchange for an ancestry report. They could then connect with family members and distant relatives via online databases. GEDMATCH is one such database, capable of comparing more than one million DNA profiles from various genealogy testing websites. Shortly before Paul Hulls was due to retire in 2018, he opened up the Golden State Killer file in one final push to solve the mystery. He'd heard of cases that had been solved via genealogy testing and was curious as to whether the field could help connect the dots once and for all. Given the amount of time that had passed, most of the DNA gathered from the Golden State Killer's crime scenes had depleted.

Hulls dug around and found that he was in luck. One pathologist had been holding on to a promising sample. In 1980, Dr. Peter Speth created two rape kits from the Charlene and Lyman Smith murder scene in Ventura. The DNA evidence from one kit had been tested and discarded by the local crime lab shortly after the murders. Speth had the foresight to store the other kit at the bottom of a freezer at the Ventura County Medical Examiner's office for safekeeping. It remained there for 38 years until Paul Hulls sorted out. The evidence within was still in pristine condition. Hulls had Dr. Speth's sample converted into one that could be read by GEDMATCH.

Within 24 hours, he had a list of the Golden State Killer's potential relatives. Hulls put together a team of five investigators to start digging for a genealogical link. As well as confirming some details witnesses had provided about the suspect's physical attributes, DNA revealed he'd gone bald prematurely and had Italian heritage. This was a surprise as none of his survivors had ever described him as appearing Italian. The team traced his great-great-great-grandparents who had been alive roughly two centuries earlier. Over the next four months, they used census records, newspaper obituaries and police and commercial databases to painstakingly build 25 family trees. These listed the names of thousands of relatives, including those who were still alive.

The team worked their way through each family tree, crossing off individuals' names as they ruled them out. Taking into account the killer's age and his connections to key locations, the investigative team eventually whittled their search down to just five names. The most promising was a man currently living in Colorado who we've identified simply as Mr. Rex. Paul Hulls was convinced that Mr. Rex was the man he'd been looking for. He had two uncles who lived in areas where the perpetrator had struck, giving him a reason to be in those locations. One of the uncles had also purchased a house from the real estate agency where a survivor of the Golden State Killer was employed. Mr. Rex worked in the construction industry.

At several of the Golden State Killer crime scenes, police found microscopic chips of blue architectural paint that they believed had come from a spray painting tool. At the time, these were only used by professionals, so investigators wondered whether the attacker might be associated with a building-related trade. Paul Hulls took a gamble by reaching out to Mr. Rex's sister directly. Luckily, she agreed to provide a DNA sample for testing. The results revealed Mr. Rex was not the Golden State Killer. Hulls was crushed. His prime suspect had been ruled out. He and his team had no choice but to return to the dwindling list of names. One of the investigators on Hulls' team was New Zealand-born genetic genealogist Dr Barbara Ray Vanta.

She'd made a name for herself in the field of genealogy after working with criminal investigators to successfully identify a woman who was abducted as an infant, which in turn solved four linked homicides known as the Bear Brook murders. Dr Ray Vanta continued the painstaking task of searching through newspaper archives for anything that could tire one of the Golden State Killer suspects to the attacks. As she looked through old copies of the Orban Journal, a brief article on page 15 caught her eye. Dated August 22, 1979, it was headlined, Orban Policeman Faces Disciplinary Procedures. The article began, Disciplinary action is being considered against an Orban policeman who was cited last month in Sacramento County on charges of shoplifting.

Joseph DiAngelo was cited July 21 for allegedly attempting to steal a hammer and a can of dog repellent from the Pay and Save store off Greenback Lane in Citrus Heights. Joseph DiAngelo was named on the team's list of Golden State Killer suspects. Furthermore, he was the only suspect on the list that had both the blue eyes and was significantly balding, just as the killer's DNA had indicated. Joseph DiAngelo Jr. began his policing career in 1973 when he was in his late 20s. At the time, he worked for a 10-person police department in the Californian city of Exeter. With a population of just 5,000 residents, DiAngelo didn't plan to stay there for long. He wanted to move on to bigger and better things. At the time, the Exeter Sun newspaper published a profile about him that read, Law enforcement is DiAngelo's career and his job is serving the community.

Three years later in 1976, DiAngelo transferred to the Orban Police Department, a slightly larger station 300 miles north. That year, the East Area rapist committed his first assault in Rancho Cordova, a 30-minute drive away. The Orban Journal newspaper chronicled some of DiAngelo's career highlights, including his capture of Juvenile Hall escapees, his assistance with the St. Patrick's Day parade, and his towing of an illegally parked vehicle. In June 1979, the paper ran an article about his participation in a charity ball game, accompanied by a photograph of a uniformed DiAngelo sporting a mustache. The following month, DiAngelo was fired for shoplifting from the pay-and-save drugstore. Around the same time, the East Area rapist attacks stopped.

DiAngelo's dismissal wasn't a major loss for the Orban PD. During his time with the department, he hadn't made any significant arrests or citations. He was aloof, distant, and was known to disappear while on duty. He never quite fit in with his colleagues, who found him overly serious and standoffish. Conversations with him felt one-sided, as he was always busy thinking. He was once derided by his boss, Orban's chief of police Nick Willick, for having a demeanor that made people uneasy. DiAngelo didn't take well to criticism, and responded by pouting like a little kid. After being fired by Willick for shoplifting, DiAngelo filed a work-related injury claim.

He alleged that the chief had harassed him, causing mental duress. It was while in this state that DiAngelo said he had committed the shoplifting, absolving himself of any personal responsibility. Though, he never established why he needed a dog repellent and a hammer in the first place. To fulfill the conditions of his claim, DiAngelo was required to visit a therapist to determine the level of his work-related stress, and what impact it had. Later, a city insurance adjuster tasked with looking into DiAngelo's claim came across something troubling. He told Chief Willick that during DiAngelo's therapy appointment, he'd admitted to going to Willick's house armed with a gun.

He'd planned on killing Willick, but bailed on the scheme when he couldn't find the window to his former boss's bedroom. This confirmed the chief's suspicion that DiAngelo was the man who'd been loitering outside his daughter's bedroom window shortly after the shoplifting incident. Despite learning of the death threat, Willick still wasn't worried about DiAngelo. He suspected his former officer was making the story up to embellish his supposed suffering and improve his chances of a large payout. Joseph DiAngelo faced court for shoplifting in October 1979. The first attack attributed to the original Night Stalker occurred that same month. Paul Holes was due to retire on Friday, March 30, 2018. The day before he left the job for good, he took a drive to the Sacramento suburb of Citrus Heights.

He turned to Down Canyon Oak Drive, a quiet residential street on the suburb's north-eastern side. After passing several neat family homes, he pulled up to number 8316. The single-story, three-bedroom house had a two-car garage and a boat parked in the driveway. It was nondescript and typical of the area, with a cream-colored facade, brown roof, and manicured lawn. Holes parked his car across the road and watched the house, which belonged to the now 72-year-old Joseph DiAngelo. There had long been speculation that the Golden State Killer had some connection to law enforcement. Shift work served a nocturnal criminal. His crouching stance when wielding his firearm was police-like, as was the way he temporarily blinded his victims by shining a flashlight directly into their face.

He kicked down doors to gain entry and yelled, Freeze. He told one victim that he would kill them with two shots. During the 70s in California, police were taught to shoot twice. He was also conscious not to leave fingerprints at his crime scenes, as that was the primary way for police to identify suspects at the time. When police arrived at one crime scene, a woman remarked, I thought you were already here, outside, because I heard what I thought was a scanner. A police scanner was also heard in the background of one of his threatening phone calls. Victims also described his demeanor as akin to a military officer. Coincidentally, DiAngelo had served time in the Navy during the Vietnam War.

Upon returning to the United States, DiAngelo spent most of his life in Northern California. He was in the area when the East Area rapist was active. He then temporarily relocated south to Los Angeles County and lived there during the original Night Stalker's spree. He later moved back to Citrus Heights after the serial killer's final murder. Despite these compelling links, DiAngelo wasn't listed in the data bank of 8,000 potential suspects that investigators had returned to over the years. Although he hadn't been popular with colleagues, they'd never considered him odd or sinister either. There was nothing in his background to suggest he could be a serial killer. Paul Holes was torn. All he needed was a DNA sample from DiAngelo to resolve the matter once and for all.

He considered knocking on DiAngelo's front door and requesting it. Seeing his number one suspect in the flesh after all these years was tempting. But Holes ultimately decided against it. His team had come too far to risk a dangerous situation or blowing their cover at such a crucial point in time. He retired the next day without fulfilling his dream of arresting the Golden State Killer. Three weeks later, on Wednesday, April 18, Joseph DiAngelo was preparing to go shopping. The retired truck mechanic and ex-cop was in the process of building a model airplane and required supplies. He got into his car and drove to the neighboring town of Roseville, where he pulled up at a strip mall.

He parked his car, got out, and entered a hobby lobby, a large chain store specializing in arts and craft supplies. Little did he know, he was being watched. The Sacramento County Sheriff's Department had placed DiAngelo under surveillance. Their goal was to collect a sample of the elderly man's DNA to compare to the Golden State Killer. As DiAngelo browsed the store, officers quickly approached his vehicle. They swabbed the driver's side door handle and scurried away. DiAngelo returned to his car a short while later, none the wiser. The DNA underwent testing immediately.

It was too weak to make accurate comparisons and contained genetic material from two other people. Investigators were undeterred. They continued to follow DiAngelo over the next five days. During this time, he appeared healthy and physically strong. He was observed lifting heavy objects, undertaking strenuous yard work, and climbing in and out of his truck with ease. At one point, he was witnessed riding his motorcycle along the freeway at high speeds. For three of these days, police staked out DiAngelo's home. They noted that a young woman and a little girl also appeared to be living at the property.

Police knew that their best chance of obtaining DiAngelo's DNA was to get their hands on a discarded item that contained his hair or bodily fluids. On Monday, April 23, they watched as he dragged his garbage cans to the curb. Once DiAngelo returned inside, the officers quietly swooped. They rummaged through the bins and recovered a promising item, a used tissue. It was analysed immediately and the result came back within hours. It had a strong enough DNA sample to compare to the Golden State Killer. The results were conclusive. Joseph DiAngelo's DNA was a 100% match.

The following evening, over a dozen members of Sacramento's law enforcement descended on Can You Know? The street was quiet as they pulled up to the house belonging to the Golden State Killer. They marched down the short concrete path leading from the driveway to the front door. Joseph DiAngelo was home alone, preparing dinner in the kitchen. He seemed genuinely surprised when the officers entered. Joseph DiAngelo was charged with the shooting deaths of Brian and Kate Majorie in 1978. At the time, the East Area rapist was ruled out as a suspect in the double homicide, despite clues hinting at his involvement, including a shoelace tied like a restraint found at the crime scene.

In hindsight, it was believed the Majories had interrupted the rapist while he was in the process of carrying out another break-in. Although there wasn't any DNA tying DiAngelo to the shootings, it was the only Sacramento-based crime unrestricted by the statute of limitations that he could be charged with. There was every intention to charge DiAngelo with further crimes. But the Majorie murders were enough to ensure he'd remain in custody while a case was built against him. DiAngelo had very little to say to the police. He seemed more concerned for his dinner, telling his arresting officers, I have a roast in the oven. DiAngelo's mugshot depicted a spotty, bewildered old man with solemn blue eyes, a bulbous, uneven nose, and sunken cheeks.

His mouth was partially agape, as though in shock. He was near bald. The little hair he had left was wiry and grey. Using a syringe, police withdrew a sample of DiAngelo's blood. saliva was swabbed from his mouth and skin cells were scraped from his body. As they took a record of his fingerprints, they discovered the tip of his left ring finger was missing. He'd lost it during his time in the Navy, which predated his alleged crimes. None of the Golden State Killers survivors had ever mentioned this peculiarity. This was further evidence of how meticulously DiAngelo had concealed his identity.

His consistent use of gloves during his attacks had not only hidden his fingerprints, but a crucial identifying feature. It was only a matter of time before the other inmates caught word that the Golden State Killer was now amongst them. DiAngelo was placed on Suicide Watch and held in an isolated cell for his own safety. April 25, 2018 was National DNA Day in the US. This day commemorates the significant discoveries surrounding DNA and encourages education about genetics. The day before, a highly anticipated press conference was held at noon. Sacramento District Attorney Marie Schubert fronted the cameras and announced news of an arrest in the Golden State Killer case. It marked the end of a 43-year-old mystery.

We all knew that we were looking for a needle in a haystack. We found the needle in the haystack and it was right here in Sacramento. Bruce Harrington, whose brother Keith was murdered by the Golden State Killer, was also present. Since then, Bruce had been a vocal advocate for utilizing DNA testing in cold cases. He'd spent 20 years and more than $2 million of his own money working to reform DNA legislation. In an emotional address, Bruce said, It's time for all victims to grieve and to take measure one last time. It is time for the victims to begin to heal.

The entire reservoir of victims out there, my sadness is with you. For the 51 ladies who were brutally raped, sleep better tonight. He isn't coming through the window. He's in jail and his history. That same day, charges were filed for the murders of Keith and Patrice Harrington, Manuela Witun and Janelle Cruz. Additional charges were also applied for the special circumstances of multiple murders, robbery, burglary, rape, sodomy and lying in wait. The news was welcome relief to the survivors and to the victims' families, as well as the investigators who had a long association with the case. Sacramento County Sheriff's Detective Carol Daly had been working on the case since the 70s. She stated,

Thousands of nightmares and thousands of sleepless nights have been put to an end with the capture of this rapist. Following news of the arrest, journalists went into overdrive. They sifted through all available information about the Golden State Killer's crimes to find long missed connections to D'Angelo. During his 37th attack, the East Area Rapist sobbed into a pillow, I hate you Bonnie, I hate you, I hate you, I hate you. Most assumed it was a red herring, as the rapist would often say or do things while committing his crimes to throw off investigators later. Others suspected the name held some significance to the perpetrator, but were unable to draw any links to a real-life person. 67-year-old Bonnie Jean Colwell loved travelling overseas.

She'd spent several years living in Italy and returned there again after divorcing her husband of 40 years. Bonnie wrote about her experiences on her travel blog titled An Old Broad Abroad. She was at her home in Italy when she received a phone call from her ex-husband. He had some baffling news from back home in California. The police had just arrested the Golden State Killer. In 1969, Bonnie had been studying nursing at Sierra College and working as a lab assistant in the school's science department. She took some baby birds outside so they could practice flying and caught the attention of a young Joseph D'Angelo. One week later, he asked Bonnie out and the two began dating.

Bonnie's father wasn't pleased about the relationship, but he warmed to D'Angelo after learning he'd served in the Vietnam War. Bonnie and D'Angelo were total opposites. She was a reserved, straight-A student while he was outgoing and rebellious. D'Angelo pushed Bonnie out of her comfort zone, taking her scuba diving on illegal spearfishing trips and hunting without a license on private property. He seemed to relish Bonnie's fear. Once, when he took her for a ride on the back of his motorcycle, a German shepherd started chasing them. He kicked the dog hard under the chin, fatally breaking its neck. Bonnie was also sexually inexperienced and was daunted by D'Angelo's insatiable sexual appetite. Bragging that he'd achieved mastery over his body, he wanted sex that lasted for hours.

Just before reaching the point of climax, he'd get up and walk away, only to return minutes later to resume. This pattern was sometimes repeated for up to three hours. Bonnie found sex with D'Angelo exhausting and often painful, but she never felt coerced. In May 1970, D'Angelo proposed to Bonnie and she accepted. Shortly after, he demanded that she let him cheat off her in the upcoming college exams, saying she owed it to him now that they were engaged. This was a line Bonnie refused to cross. When D'Angelo kept pressuring her, she returned his ring and called the engagement off. Two weeks later, Bonnie was at home in her bedroom when D'Angelo showed up at her window armed with a gun.

He demanded that she get dressed, telling her they were going to Reno to get married that very night. Bonnie was terrified. She woke her father up and asked for help. He ordered her to lock herself in the bathroom and stay there. Two hours later, he told Bonnie she was safe to come out, but he never revealed what happened between him and D'Angelo. Bonnie never saw D'Angelo again. He went on to marry a woman named Sharon Huddle in 1973, with whom he had three daughters. The couple separated in the early 1990s, but maintained an amicable relationship. D'Angelo never remarried.

When she learned her former boyfriend was an alleged serial killer, Bonnie was shocked. The news of D'Angelo's arrest also came as a shock to some of his neighbours. The house on Canyon Oak Drive was the same one he and his ex-wife Sharon had purchased in 1980. The couple had kept the property even after temporarily relocating to Los Angeles for Sharon's work, and D'Angelo had lived there alone since their separation. At the time of his arrest, one of his daughters and her child were also staying with him. To his neighbours, D'Angelo appeared to be a regular old man who liked to go biking and was looking forward to spending more time fishing upon his retirement. One neighbour found D'Angelo to be such an ordinary guy that when they noticed the police tape surrounding his home,

they assumed he was having his driveway repaved. To others, he was a hot-headed creep. D'Angelo had been known to throw temper tantrums that could be heard from houses away. He would yell at neighbours for minor inconveniences, such as if they mowed their lawns too early in the morning. One man who once caught D'Angelo prowling on his property told the media, I had the creeps about this guy for a long time. In the documentary, Golden State Killer, Main Suspect, D'Angelo's next door neighbour, Sonja Gorman, discussed an occasion when D'Angelo accompanied one of his children to her daughter's birthday party.

She said his behaviour was so abrasive that he scared both the children and the adults. After that, the Gormans didn't invite D'Angelo's daughter to their home again. According to Sonja's son Grant, D'Angelo yelled and swore all the time. He recalled that he and D'Angelo sometimes clashed over the Gorman's pet dog. On one occasion, D'Angelo left a threatening message on the family's answering machine. If you don't shut that dog up, I'll deliver a load of death. This wasn't the only dispute D'Angelo had with neighbours about a dog. While he was still working as a police officer, he had openly expressed his dislike of another family's dog,

which later died unexpectedly. When a veterinarian told the family the dog had been poisoned, they later wondered if D'Angelo, who they referred to as the Crazy Cop, was responsible. D'Angelo made his first appearance in the Sacramento Superior Court on April 27, 2018. Although only three days had passed since his arrest, he no longer looked like the sprightly older man the surveillance team had monitored closely for almost a week. D'Angelo was now in a wheelchair. He looked dazed and confused as he was informed he was being charged for the double murder of Brian and Katie Majore.

When presented with questions, he gave delayed, drawn-out answers. D'Angelo was informed that charges had also been filed against him in Ventura County for the 1980 murders of Lyman and Charlene Smith, the third and fourth victims of the original Night Stalker. Upon hearing this, D'Angelo's head lulled to one side. At times, it appeared as though he was having trouble keeping his eyes open. Paul Hulls believed this was all an act, saying, D'Angelo is a dangerous man. He is not the decrepit individual you see in a wheelchair. The district attorney sought permission to take photographs of D'Angelo's genitals in order to determine whether he had a, quote,

physical abnormality described by many who had survived his attacks. Hulls widely believed that this referred to his exceptionally small penis size. D'Angelo's lawyer filed a motion to prevent this from happening, but the motion was denied. Almost two weeks later, on May 14, four more first-degree murder charges were filed against D'Angelo in Santa Barbara County. For the December 30, 1979 deaths of Robert Offerman and Deborah Manning, and the July 27, 1981 deaths of Sherry Domingo and Gregory Sanchez. Both couples were attacked and murdered in their homes by the original Night Stalker, and both women were raped. Back in the 1970s, Visalia police detective Bill McGowan suspected that the East Area rapist was also the man behind the Visalia Ransacka crime spree. He fought an uphill battle at the time, as few others agreed with him.

When he presented his theory to Sacramento authorities, they rejected it. But in 2018, McGowan was finally vindicated. Although there was no DNA evidence to conclusively prove D'Angelo was the Visalia Ransacka, he was tied to the crimes via other evidence and AMOs. The statute of limitations had expired for most of the Ransacka's crimes, but there still remained the matter of Claude Snelling. He was shot dead by the Ransacka during a thwarted abduction of Claude's daughter. With no restrictions on this crime, D'Angelo was charged with Claude's murder. D'Angelo was also charged with 13 felony counts of kidnapping relating to crimes committed in Contra Costa and Sacramento counties. The kidnapping charges were a way of making D'Angelo answer to some of the rapes, which had expired according to California's statute of limitations.

From behind bars, D'Angelo continued to maintain his innocence, despite the overwhelming physical evidence implicating him as the Golden State killer. His health also appeared to deteriorate, as he rapidly lost weight and began to look increasingly frail. Some started to worry that he wouldn't survive long enough to face trial. Then, in early 2020, an unexpected announcement was made. D'Angelo decided to accept a plea deal. This meant that survivors of his attacks and loved ones of his victims would be spared the pain and a drawn-out process of a trial. Instead, there would be a plea hearing in just a few months' time. The highly anticipated hearing took place on June 29, 2020.

It was slightly delayed due to the COVID-19 pandemic that had broken out months earlier. Given that many survivors of D'Angelo's attacks and former law enforcement officers who'd originally worked on the case were now elderly and more susceptible to the virus, a number of strict precautions were taken. The health risks didn't deter those who were determined to see D'Angelo finally face up to his crimes. Over 150 people gathered inside a makeshift courtroom at the Sacramento State University's ballroom, where seats were spaced out to allow for adequate social distancing. Everyone present had to undergo temperature checks and wear face masks for the protection of themselves and others. Various news crews set up cameras, and the hearing was live-streamed online, with large projection screens arranged around the courtroom. Finally, it was the moment they'd all been waiting for. The now 74-year-old Joseph D'Angelo was steered into the room in a wheelchair, dressed in an orange prison jumpsuit.

Not exempt from the COVID-19 precautions, he's now visibly gaunt and sunken face was protected behind a plastic shield. Sacramento Deputy District Attorney Amy Holliday announced that D'Angelo would be pleading guilty to 26 charges over six counties. This included 13 counts of first-degree murder and 13 charges of kidnapping for the purpose of robbery. He also agreed to admit to 62 sexual assault crimes and other special circumstance charges, for which the statute of limitations had since expired. In total, he was admitting to harming 87 different individuals in 53 separate incidents, spanning 11 different counties across California. In exchange, D'Angelo would escape the death penalty. He would spend the rest of his life behind bars without the possibility of parole, and would have to pay restitution to his victims and their families. As part of the bargain, five counties that had outstanding cases against him agreed to drop the charges.

It took three hours for the prosecution to detail the crimes D'Angelo had committed between 1975 and 1986. Prior to the hearing, survivors had been cautioned that they'd be referred to mostly as Jane or John Doe. Many weren't happy about this, as they wanted to be seen as a real person whose life had been directly impacted by D'Angelo. To accommodate those who wanted to be identified, a compromise had been arranged ahead of the hearing. When each attack was described, those who wanted to stood so that D'Angelo and the court could see them. Judge Bowman then read each of the murder charges to D'Angelo. In a hoarse, soft-spoken voice, the somewhat confused-looking D'Angelo entered a guilty plea for each one. He often looked to his lawyer Joseph Kress for reassurance, as though he didn't comprehend what was going on or what was expected of him.

District Attorney Anne-Marie Schubert accused D'Angelo of feigning his disoriented demeanor and accused him of only using a wheelchair to give the illusion of being ill. It wasn't the first time D'Angelo had feigned physical or mental illness in an attempt to escape the consequences of his actions. After his arrest for shoplifting in 1979, he had pretended to have a heart attack and then started screaming incoherently. He later admitted to Sheriff's deputies that he'd been acting in the hopes the stalklerks would let him go. Similarly, after D'Angelo was identified as the Golden State Killer and was being held alone in a police interrogation room, he started muttering to himself. I did all that. I didn't have the strength to push him out. He made me. I didn't want to do those things. I pushed Jerry out and had a happy life. I did all those things. I destroyed all their lives. The prosecution argued that this was D'Angelo's attempt to blame his crimes on a fake alter ego. On Tuesday, August 18, 2020, D'Angelo's sentencing hearing began.

Over three days, survivors and relatives of the victims would finally be given the chance to have their stories heard via victim impact statements. Judge Bowman assured them there was no need to hurry, saying, Remember, you waited a long time for this. Many told the court of the long-lasting physical and emotional traumas they'd endured. Some survivors shared how D'Angelo had bound them so tightly that their hands were still numb even months after their attacks. A woman who was just seven when D'Angelo attacked her mother in their home said that he had threatened to cut her rear off and bring it to her mother. Chris, who was 15 when she was raped by D'Angelo, looked directly at him and said, D'Angelo has stole my formative years. He stole my youth, my innocence, my faith, and my trust.

Who could I have grown up to be? I guess I'll never know. Your secrets have been exposed. Your double life is over. The world, and I mean the entire world, is who you are and what you did. You will forever be known as a repulsive coward who hid behind a mask of evil. For decades, he lived free in the same neighborhood that I lived in, as well as many others. He was free while each of his victims and their families lived in pain, often nearby. Who knows how many times I passed him in the grocery store, or sat near him at a restaurant oblivious to the fact that the rapist who took some mushrooms was only a few feet away. It is always since his capture that I have found freedom from his evil.

Pete was 11 when D'Angelo tied him to a bed post and locked his five-year-old sister in the bathroom. He then bound and brutally sexually assaulted their mother, Winnie. Pete stated, While we all have suffered for 44 years, your suffering, sir, has just begun. And for me, a tribute to my mother for her courage, her bravery, her good sense of humor, her love. Because of her, we've all been inspired to go on and to enjoy our lives. And may she enjoy the sun on her face, the love in her heart, listening to her grandkids talk on the phone, enjoying her nice cup of coffee, and sleeping well tonight knowing that you are gone and the boogeyman is done.

Jennifer Carroll, the daughter of murder victim Alimon Smith, spoke of the crime scene discovered by her 12-year-old brother, Gary. She said, The walls were splattered with blood and gray matter. The bed was saturated with bodily fluids. Gary gently lifted the quarter of the comforter to find my dad's head face down in the pillow cemented to the fabric by blood. Joe might be surprised to learn that I was a suspect for two days. Your Honor, I ask you to imagine what that does to a young 18-year-old. I've lived with the shame for decades.

It's your shame, Joe. Joe sitting here with his blank face desperate need to try to ignore what he's done to not validate his victims to take no responsibility is not justice. Joe spending the rest of his life in prison is not justice. Justice is not possible in this case. Jennifer has released her own autobiographical podcast about the case and her experiences called The Lawyer's Daughter. After all of the statements were heard, D'Angelo was sentenced on Friday, August 21. Judge Bowman began by listing the 26 charges that D'Angelo had pleaded guilty to. The prosecutors from the six prosecuting counties then took turns addressing the court. Most used the time to thank investigators and praise the bravery of the survivors.

They all called for Judge Bowman to give D'Angelo the maximum sentence available, which was life in prison without the possibility of parole. The defense team acknowledged the pain and suffering of D'Angelo's victims and said they hoped his admittance to the charges would help bring some level of peace. They read some brief statements from his extended family members who expressed their horror and shock at what he'd done. D'Angelo was offered the chance to address the court himself. He rose from his wheelchair and removed the white face mask he was wearing. He then shifted slightly to face the judge and to the public gallery and stood silently before eventually stating, I've listened to all of your statements, each one of them, and I'm truly sorry to everyone I've heard. Thank you, Your Honor. Judge Bowman was moved by the strength and courage of the survivors and to the victims' families. He told the court that these were qualities D'Angelo lacked and questioned whether he was capable of comprehending the pain he'd caused.

Judge Bowman declared that D'Angelo deserved no mercy. His words were met with loud applause. All up, D'Angelo was given 11 consecutive life sentences without the possibility of parole for the 13 murders, an additional consecutive life term for the 13 kidnappings, and an additional eight years for various special charges. Judge Bowman made it clear, Joseph James D'Angelo Jr. would never be released from prison. Immediately following the sentencing, the true extent of D'Angelo's attempt to manipulate the court was revealed. The Sacramento District Attorney's Office released a video that proved once and for all that he's weakened act was just a show. Covertly recorded in D'Angelo's cell during the previous two months, the footage captured him doing exercises, climbing up a window in an attempt to block light out of his cell, and hoisting himself onto the top of a bunk bed. DA Schubert reflected on the revelation, stating, Many people have asked and wondered, really, who is Joseph D'Angelo? Is he a feeble old 74-year-old man? Is he psychologically impaired? Is he physically impaired? Is he even competent to stand trial or to enter those guilty pleas?

The answer to those questions that so many people have wondered for the last two years lies within the definition of a sociopath. The particularly brutal nature of D'Angelo's crimes shocked California. Many were left wondering why a seemingly ordinary family man chose to rape and murder so many victims over such a long time span. Some forensic psychologists believe he followed a textbook path of sexually driven perversions that likely started when he was a child. One known incident may have contributed towards this. D'Angelo's nephew Jesse Ryland told BuzzFeed News that when D'Angelo was around nine, he witnessed something highly traumatic while his family was living on a German airbase. D'Angelo and his seven-year-old sister Constance were playing in an abandoned warehouse when two Air Force men turned up. They raped Constance while D'Angelo looked on. The children told their parents about the attack, but were ordered never to discuss it again.

Psychiatric nursing professor Ann Wolbert Burgess told BuzzFeed that serial offenders often develop a fixation with their crime from an early age. The rape of D'Angelo's sister would have been a significant event that, quote, could have set the nucleus of the fantasy. Jesse also told BuzzFeed that D'Angelo's father, Joseph Sr., had been abusive and physically assaulted his wife, Kathleen. After one particularly brutal incident, Joseph Sr. was formally warned that he'd be kicked out of the military if he ever beat his wife again. Jesse also alleged that Kathleen was physically abusive towards her children. In the HBO documentary series I'll Be Gone in the Dark, Jesse's brother, Wes, claimed that Joseph Sr. would sometimes lock his children in a closet and then use corporal punishment on them, with D'Angelo receiving the most violent beatings. Paul Holes believed it was possible that D'Angelo was channeling part of his childhood psychology into his crimes. Some tabloid papers luridly placed the blame on D'Angelo's ex-girlfriend, Bonnie.

The Daily Mail ran a story with the headline, Is this the woman who broke the Golden State killer's heart and sparked his murderous rampage? This attempt to blame a woman for D'Angelo's decision to commit violent crimes has been widely criticized by other news outlets and on social media. Although Bonnie is in no way accountable for D'Angelo's actions, his use of her name indicated the type of perpetrator he might be. Paul Holes told Mercury News We always thought there was a Bonnie significant in his life. It could be a mother, a wife, a girlfriend, a childhood crush. Most certainly, if he's making the statement, I hate you Bonnie, while he's attacking another female, he is what we call an anger retaliatory rapist. Instead of directing his anger at what's making him angry, he's directing it sideways onto someone else to be able to satisfy that anger. Another lingering question is how D'Angelo remained undetected for so long.

Investigators and other experts have credited his police training with a former colleague saying that D'Angelo knew everything about everything that needed to be known about law enforcement. To protect himself, he would park his car several blocks away from his crime scenes. This allowed him to slip back to his vehicle without having to pass any police patrols. It's also possible that he was able to listen in on his police radio as his crimes were being investigated. Had D'Angelo been looked into further following the pay-and-save shoplifting incident, he might have been caught earlier. However, police officers at the time often carried a dog repellent so the theft wouldn't have aroused any suspicion. Former Chief of Orban Police Nick Willick, who fired D'Angelo from the force, has been left devastated by the truth. He said, I think a little bit of all of us died when this came to light. I feel personally embarrassed. It's a black eye, not just on my department, but law enforcement.

Another factor that prevented him from being identified was that it took so long for the crimes of the Visalia ransacker, the East Area rapist, and the original night stalker to be tied to a single perpetrator. The failure to make the link earlier was the result of a lack of cooperation, poor communication, and a sense of rivalry between police departments. Former Sacramento County Sheriff's Deputy Wendell Phillips explained that some of the reluctance to cooperate with other agencies came from the theory that the perpetrator was a police officer. He told the Los Angeles Times, There was concern about sharing information, because, let's face it, loose lips, sink ships. Drawing the link was also hindered by the fact that there were differences between many of D'Angelo's crimes, such as the knots used to bind his victims and the weapons he used to kill them. Technology was also limited, with no cell phones or DNA. These differences blinded Sacramento authorities and stopped them from entertaining the thought that the East Area rapist could have also been the Visalia ransacker.

Had they been open to the possibility at the time, they might have had a chance of catching D'Angelo before he became the original night stalker. It was discovered in 2018 that the investigative spotlight was narrowing on D'Angelo as far back as the 70s. Old police notebooks belonging to Visalia police detective Bill McGowan contained scrawlings in which he expressed an intention to look through the yearbooks of the nearest police department in the neighboring town of Exeter. He seemed convinced the perpetrator was a member of law enforcement and had isolated the suspect to Exeter PD, where D'Angelo worked. McGowan's notes detailed his intention to go through each yearbook photo and compare the male graduates with his recollections of the Visalia ransacker following the pair's violent confrontation in 1975. He was certain if he saw a photo of the person, he would recognise them. For reasons unknown, he never made the trip or followed through with his intentions. McGowan's suspect sketch of the Visalia ransacker was a dead ringer for D'Angelo, increasing the odds that he would have identified him.

McGowan passed away before D'Angelo's arrest and wasn't able to learn how close he came to identifying the killer. Bill McGowan is considered an unsung hero by ardent followers of the Golden State Killer case, a brilliant detective who stuck to his guns despite overwhelming opposition. Many have questioned how D'Angelo committed the crimes without his wife Sharon knowing. She says he gave a valid reasons for being away from home on the nights of the attacks, such as working, going pheasant hunting or visiting his parents who lived hundreds of miles away. There are also some reports that the couple slept in separate bedrooms from early in their marriage, which would have allowed D'Angelo to sneak in and out of their house at night undetected. Although the couple separated in 1991 and Sharon was a family lawyer, she didn't file for divorce until one year after D'Angelo's arrest. Paul Hulls addressed this fact at a crime-con panel, saying, It's an unusual situation that someone so well-versed in the divorce process has chosen not to have completed that process, and it becomes suspicious.

Given that D'Angelo was such a prolific serial rapist and killer, it struck some investigators as bizarre that he would suddenly stop committing attacks. Paul Hulls believes D'Angelo's Hull was ultimately brought about by the murder of Sherry Domingo and Gregory Sanchez on July 21, 1981. Greg was six foot three and fought back against D'Angelo. Hulls believes this scared D'Angelo and caused him to take a step back from his crime spree. The next attack didn't occur until almost five years later, on May 4, 1986, when Janelle Cruz was raped and killed while she was home alone in Irvine. Hulls believes that D'Angelo likely spotted Janelle somewhere and developed a fixation with her, which reignited his violent tendencies. After Janelle's murder, D'Angelo's crimes came to a complete stop, though he did continue to torment some victims via harassing phone calls. He was in his 40s by this stage, and Hulls attributes his lack of criminal activity to his getting older. Historian Peter Wronsky agrees with this theory. He told the Mercury News that serial killers typically fantasize about their crimes through their adolescence, then act on them in their 20s.

The average age they typically begin killing is 28. Once you hit your 40s, you begin to get that decline. As their testosterone begins to decline, so do the fantasies as well, so it's easier to resist that type of compulsion. Although detectives aren't 100% certain, they don't think D'Angelo is responsible for any other unsolved crimes. They've spent years looking for additional cases to link to the Golden State Killer, but haven't been able to find any. District Attorney Schubert hasn't ruled out the possibility of there being more victims, stating, I don't believe we will ever know the magnitude of what D'Angelo did. The methods used to identify Joseph D'Angelo as the Golden State Killer have prompted an ethical question about the use of genealogy websites to identify criminals. Privacy experts have pointed out that most people using these sites don't expect their personal information and DNA to be accessed by law enforcement. While some users support their DNA being used for these purposes, others are troubled that a tool invented to help people trace their families is now being used to convict their relatives.

GEDMATCH, the online genealogy database used in the Golden State Killer case, came under fire after allowing police to use its services to investigate a physical assault. Doing so was in direct contradiction to its policies, which only allowed law enforcement to access the database to investigate homicides and sexual assaults. The site has since opted its users out of all crime-related searches. As law enforcement agencies have grown increasingly interested in using genealogy websites, there has been more resistance from some genealogists. This is still an emerging issue and has yet to be entirely resolved. As of early November 2020, it doesn't appear that D'Angelo has been transferred to the prison where he will serve out the rest of his sentence. Due to the COVID-19 pandemic, the California Department of Corrections and Rehabilitation has put an indefinite pause on transferring prisoners from county jails to prisons. Officials still need to determine which prison D'Angelo will be sent to.

Due to his age and the notoriety of his crimes, he will need certain medical and safety requirements. He may end up housed in a protective custody unit. Many of the survivors and victims' families have found some solace in knowing that D'Angelo has finally been caught. During his sentencing hearing, Carol Daly, one of the case's original detectives, read a statement allowed on behalf of survivor Kathy Rogers. It said, He is the one forever alone in the dark. He is the one forever alone in the dark.