Hollywood & Crime - The Execution of Bonny Lee | United Singles Incorporated | 1

Episode Date: October 7, 2024

Bonny Lee Bakely is found dead in a car in Studio City. When the press learns she is the wife of someone famous, all hell breaks loose. Detective Ron Ito and his team of Homicide Special detectives have their work cut out for them. Bonny Lee was a con artist who had fleeced hundreds of men out of money, but it’s her husband, Robert Blake, who is of primary interest.See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

Hollywood and crime contains strong language and some depictions of violence which may not be suitable for everyone. It's a little after 9.30 p.m. on May 4th, 2001. It's a little after 9.30 p.m. on May 4th, 2001. Fireworks flash across the sky in Studio City, just over the Hollywood Hills. Cinco de Mayo has come a day early this year. Inside a small yellow house on a quiet street, Sean Stanek sits at a desk in his robe. He's spending Friday night hunched over his keyboard, writing a screenplay, hoping to become the next Quentin Tarantino.

But tonight, Stanek won't write another word. Outside his door is a man. He looks familiar. About 60-something. Short. He's breathing hard. You have to help my wife. She's bloody and she's been beaten.

They beat her up. Oh my God, call 911. Then it clicks. Jesus, it's Robert Blake, the actor. Stanek's seen him around the neighborhood. Where is she? Blake points across the street to a black Dodge parked in front of a dumpster. Stanek's confused. How did Blake's wife get into the car if she was beaten? Was there

a domestic squabble? Stanek? How old is she? 45 years. She's 45 years old. Is she conscious? Is she conscious, Robert? No. She's not conscious. Is she breathing? Is she breathing?

Yeah, they're coming. Oh, no. The operator tells Stanek to get a dry towel to stop any bleeding. Shit. He's still in his robe. He runs to the bedroom to change clothes and hears Blake yell from the other room, I'm going back to the restaurant. What the hell? Why isn't Blake going to the car to help his wife?

Outside, there's a light fog, the street empty. It's dark as soot. Then he sees the car next to the dumpster and rushes over. He peers in through the driver's window and spots the woman. Ma'am? Oh my God. Okay, is she breathing? I don't know. Are you okay?

Ma'am? Are you okay? Stanek opens the door. The woman's hair is matted with blood. He can hear her taking ragged breaths. He places a towel around her head and applies pressure. And then he hears Blake calling from down the block. What's wrong with her? What happened?

Stanek turns back to the injured woman. He tilts up her face. His stomach jumps. There's a gaping hole in the right side of her head. She's been shot. there's a gaping hole in the right side of her head. She's been shot. Minutes later, paramedics arrive and transfer the woman into an ambulance.

Stanek finds Blake sitting on the curb. He sits next to him and puts his arm around his shoulder. By now, the street is teeming with squad cars. One of the officers approaches and asks Blake if he's related to the victim. Blake's voice is low, shaky. That's my wife. I knew this was going to happen. I knew it.

She was afraid, you know. I carry my peace for protection. The officer asks if he still has it on him. Blake pulls the gun from his pocket. Stanek is suddenly all nerves. He tries to piece together the clues. If he did the scene as a director, he'd say the woman trusted whoever did this. Maybe the killer walked up and said something to her, then too late, the gun explodes.

One of the hazards of working in Hollywood, everything feels like a movie. Stanek won't be the first to speculate about what happened tonight. In the next few hours, newspapers and TV crews will swoop onto the scene hungry for headlines. It's been a slow news cycle, and this story has all the makings of a film noir thriller. A faded Hollywood actor, his murdered wife. Everyone wanting to know who is this mysterious woman, and who wanted her dead. Get ready for Las Vegas-style action at BetMGM, the king of online casinos. Enjoy casino games at your fingertips with the same Vegas strip excitement MGM is famous for

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BetMGM operates pursuant to an operating agreement with iGaming Ontario. They say Hollywood is where dreams are made. A seductive city where many flock to get rich, be adored, and capture America's heart. But when the spotlight turns off, fame, fortune, and lives can disappear in an instant. Follow Hollywood and Crime, The Cotton Club Murder on the Wondery app or wherever you get your podcasts. From Wondery, I'm Tracy Patton, along with my co-host, Josh Lucas. And this is Hollywood and Crime, knew the name Bonnie Lee Bakley, but that would change overnight.

In the days following her murder, the press decided they knew exactly who she was. They called her a grifter, a liar, the queen of the con. The victim became the villain. But just like any plot with twists and turns, there was more to Bonnie's story. She was a gutsy and hard-working woman who came from nothing, a girl with a dream. She wanted to marry a star, be someone special, and she went for it. As her ex-husband said, she chased her dream, and when she finally got it, it killed her. The list of suspects was long. There was her celebrity husband, an actor whose best years were two decades behind him. There were hundreds of men she'd grifted over the years.

And there was another lover, the son of a famous actor who did time for murder. The search for the killer would take detectives on an 11-month odyssey across the country and through Hollywood's underbelly of hustlers and would-be hitmen. It would become the most expensive murder investigation to date in LAPD history. This is a six-part series about two people who lived on the dark edge of the spotlight and how they ended up on a deadly collision course. This is episode one, United Singles Incorporated. Detective Ron Ito is fast asleep when he gets the call.

The minute he hears the voice on the other end, he knows it's going to be a long night. It's Hartwell. A celebrity's wife has been killed over in Studio City. Lieutenant Hartwell is in charge of the Homicide Special Section, an elite squad of detectives who handle L.A LA's toughest and most high-profile cases. Serial murders, multiple victim homicides, deaths that involve celebrities. It's the wife of Robert Blake, the actor. An image pops into Ido's head, an old TV series called Beretta. Blake played the title role, a tough street cop who always had a cigarette behind his ear and a cockatoo on his shoulder.

Do they know who did it? I'm not sure. Blake is at the North Hollywood station giving a statement now. They want us to take over the case as soon as possible. Okay, see you down there. Ido heads to the closet. He picks out a light green suit and tie, then runs a comb through his dark military-style haircut.

Homicide special detectives dress the part. It's about respect. Respect for the job. Respect for the victim. Ido is 47 years old and has worked hundreds of cases in his 20 years with LAPD, but it's the challenge of homicide he enjoys the most, piecing evidence together, sifting through clues others have missed. Hard work is in Ito's blood. His grandmother opened

a cafe after being released from a Japanese internment camp. As a kid, Ito helped her out and then washed dishes at his father's restaurant. When he discovered police work at community college, he walked the blue line. First patrol and vice, then robbery. He gained the respect of his fellow officers in Hollywood Homicide by solving a cold case with just a few phone calls. When extra hands were needed to pour through hundreds of tips for the O.J. Simpson case, Ito was brought on. It was his first taste of homicide special and working celebrity cases, the nonstop media attention, the public scrutiny. Now he's got another one on his hands. This time, he'll be the lead in the glare of the spotlight. He grabs his keys and hurries out the door. Beretta. What was his

catchphrase? Don't do the crime if you can't do the time? Good advice. More people should take it. It would make his job a lot easier. More people should take it. It would make his job a lot easier. It was August 1998, three years before Bonnie Lee Bakley would meet her death on a dark street in the San Fernando Valley. But tonight, the world was filled with possibility. Bonnie rolled down the window of her rental car and leaned her head out.

Burbank was flat as a desert and hot as hell, but she didn't mind. If you asked her, the valley was underrated. Everyone thought Hollywood was the place where the movies got made. Not true. It was here. You could pretty much throw a rock and hit a movie studio. It always made her feel like she was one step away from meeting someone famous. She turned to Will Jordan in the passenger seat.

So, who do you think will be at Chadney's tonight? The regular jazz crowd. A few celebs for sure. Jack Sheldon is playing. jazz crowd. A few celebs for sure. Jack Sheldon is playing. Will Jordan was 71 with thick black framed glasses and a Hollywood tan. A comic who began his career on TV variety shows before Bonnie was born. They had an unspoken arrangement as old as time. She was his arm candy and he was her entree to the stars. She didn't have enough clout to get intros on her own, and the clock was ticking. She was two clicks on the wrong side of 40, not much time left to achieve her dream. Bonnie Lee Bakley was going to marry a celebrity. She'd come close a couple of

times, at least in her mind. She almost met Elvis, drove to Graceland all by herself, scaled a wall and then climbed a tree outside his bedroom. But a guard hustled her out. And then there was Dean Martin. She stalked him for months, finally cornered him at a hamburger joint where he was a regular. He even invited her to his birthday party. She had planned to be his mistress,

but then he died. She cried about that one for a week. Still, no matter how many setbacks and failed attempts, she just knew her celebrity husband was around the corner. Chadney's is just up here on the left. Wow, the lot is packed. Hey, give me a second to powder my nose, will you? I'll meet you at the door. Sure thing, sweetheart. Bonnie flipped down the side mirror and studied her reflection. She was never a great beauty, but she was pretty enough, especially when she smiled. Her hair was another story. It was once silky brown, but one too many dye jobs had given it the texture of blonde cotton candy. Sure, she'd grown thick around the middle, but so what?

Most men didn't really care. Give them sweet talk and flattery, and by the time you showed a little skin, they were ready to hand over their house. Bonnie gave her hair a final fluff. She was ready. Inside Chadney's, Bonnie scanned the crowd. Definitely the geriatric set. Silver hair, evening jackets, everyone sipping on gin martinis and vodka gimlets. evening jackets, everyone sipping on gin martinis and vodka gimlets. Then she spotted someone who stood out. He seemed younger and hipper, with jet black hair and biceps that bulged through his

sleeveless tank top. But what stood out the most was the way his friends fawned over his words, like he was the funniest guy in the world. She tugged on Will's jacket. Who's that? Guy holding court? That's Robert Blake. Come on, I'll introduce you. The name didn't mean anything to Bonnie, but he sure acted like somebody famous. She felt a sense of excitement as she followed Will to the table. Bobby, I want you to meet somebody. Bonnie, this is Robert Blake. Bonnie put on her best smile. A pleasure. I was just admiring your shirt. And this old thing? I got about a hundred of them. She laughed and tried to catch his eye,

but he'd already turned back to his friends. No matter, she'd find another way in. From a corner booth, she kept an eye on his table. When one of his pals went to the bathroom, Bonnie was waiting. Aren't you with Robert Blake? The man smiled and nodded. Can I have his phone number? He looked surprised, then annoyed. Ask him yourself.

Bonnie shrugged. Ask him yourself. Bonnie shrugged. Maybe she would. She headed to Blake's table and slid into an empty seat. She touched his arm. Is that a New Jersey accent? Nutley born and bred. I'm from Morristown.

That was Bonnie's opening. You look like you work out. Men loved flattery. Yeah, every morning. Crack of dawn. Blake flexed his arm. She reached out and touched his muscle. Wow. Next thing you know, they were chatting like old pals.

Very close pals. She leaned over to give him a long glance at her cleavage. At the end of the night, when Blake asked if she needed a ride, she didn't hesitate. 20 minutes later, they were sweating up the windows of Blake's fancy SUV. It happened so fast, Bonnie just went with it. When it was done, her mind was spinning. There was no way she was going to let this be a one-night stand. Bonnie inched closer to Blake. She gave him a long, slow kiss for good measure. When she pulled away, Blake said,

Why don't we exchange numbers? Boom. She got him. Robert Blake cruised down to Hunga Avenue, one hand on the wheel and a grin on his face. He loved to drive, especially at night. No traffic or crowds. He cranked up the volume on a jazz CD. Something about moonlight and Coltrane always got him in a mood. He thought back on the evening. What a gas. It was great to see some of the regulars at Chadney's. And then there was the girl. An unexpected turn. How many 65-year-old guys are making it in the backseat of a car with a woman 20 years younger? Yeah, he still got it. He was cruising into his third act, and overall, life looked pretty good.

He had more than 100 films and TV shows under his belt, four Emmy noms, and one win. He'd invested wisely and paid off the mortgage on a sprawling ranch house where he lived solo. No obligations, no one to answer to. He liked it that way. He had his routines, a morning workout, favorite restaurants where people knew his name. And if he needed some fun, he headed over to the Playboy Mansion where Hef always welcomed him with open arms. Sure, he had regrets. Who didn't? It took years of therapy and a shitload of soul-searching, but he made peace with his past. He liked his easy, carefree life, and he planned to keep it

that way. Maybe give that blonde a call. Seemed like a no-strings kind of gal. Just the way he liked them. Back in the hotel, it took Bonnie one minute to pick up the phone. She needed to tell her best friend what happened. Judy. Guess what I just did. She and Judy had been pals for over 10 years. Bonnie told Judy everything from her illegal business ventures to her romantic conquests. Okay, wait for it. I

had sex with a guy in the backseat of his car, and I think he was somebody famous. His name's Robert Blake. You mean Beretta? You slept with Beretta? This is big. Judy was a decade older than Bonnie, so she remembered plenty about Blake. He's been in like a million movies. He used to be on Carson all the time.

Bonnie made a mental note to head to Blockbuster as soon as she got back to Memphis. Every red light we were going at it like teenagers. I gotta say, he's kind of cute. That's kind of a stretch if you ask me, but he is a star. Bonnie couldn't believe her luck. All those years of hoping and plotting, and finally a celebrity was in her reach. This was her shot at the golden ring. Now she just had to find a way to see him again. Hello, ladies and gerbs, boys and girls. The Grinch is back again to ruin your Christmas season with Tis the Grinch Holiday Podcast.

Grinch is back again to ruin your Christmas season with Tis the Grinch Holiday Podcast. After last year, he's learned a thing or two about hosting, and he's ready to rant against Christmas cheer and roast his celebrity guests like chestnuts on an open fire. You can listen with the whole family as guest stars like Jon Hamm, Brittany Broski, and Danny DeVito try to persuade the mean old Grinch that there's a lot to love about the insufferable holiday season. But that's not all. Somebody stole all the children of Whoville's letters to Santa, and everybody thinks the Grinch is responsible. It's a real Whoville whodunit. Can Cindy Lou and Max help clear the Grinch's name? Grab your hot cocoa and cozy slippers to find out. Follow Tis the Grinch Holiday Podcast on the Wondery app or wherever you get your podcasts.

Unlock weekly Christmas mystery bonus content and listen to every episode ad-free by joining Wondery Plus in the Wondery app, Spotify, or Apple Podcasts. I'm Jake Warren, and in our first season of Finding, I set out on a very personal quest to find the woman who saved my mom's life. You can listen to Finding Natasha right now exclusively on Wondery Plus. In season two, I found myself caught up in a new journey to help someone I've never even met. But a couple of years ago, I came across a social media post by a person named Loti. It read in part,

Three years ago today that I attempted to jump off this bridge, but this wasn't my time to go. A gentleman named Andy saved my life. I still haven't found him. This is a story that I came across purely by chance, but it instantly moved me and it's taken me to a place where I've had to consider some deeper issues

around mental health. This is season two of Finding, and this time, if all goes to plan, we'll be finding Andy. You can listen to Finding Andy and Finding Natasha exclusively and ad-free on Wondery Plus. Join Wondery Plus in the Wondery app, Apple Podcasts, or Spotify. It's 1962 in Morristown, New Jersey. Inside a small house, six-year-old Bonnie Lee Bakley sat in a corner covering her ears.

She was trying to breathe. Her parents were fighting again. She could tell from her father's slurred speech he was drunk. She prayed he didn't find her. If he did, she knew he'd take out his anger on her. Too late. Are you dumb enough to think you can hide? I can see you. Bonnie didn't know what to say. Her mind had shut down. You're the stupidest kid I have ever seen. and ugly as sin. You'll never be anything,

you hear me? But Bonnie couldn't hear him. She was hyperventilating so hard the only thing she could hear was the sound of her heart. Then she fainted. When she came to, her father was gone, When she came to, her father was gone, hauled off to the drunk tank by the cops. Bonnie kept telling herself it would be okay. But it wouldn't. Her father found other ways to make her life miserable. She would later tell people he got fresh with her. That's how she liked to say it. It kept the bad memory locked away. Her sister was less delicate. She would later tell a journalist, the drunken bum molested my sister. Her mother finally

kicked her dad out of the house. Bonnie was sent to her grandmother who lived on the edge of town in a trailer. Bonnie loved Grammy Hall, but life was hard. Money was always tight and Grammy was afraid they'd run out of water, so she wouldn't let Bonnie bathe very much, which made her an outcast in school. She was the girl with the dirty hair. Bonnie escaped through records her grandmother had given her. Elvis and Frankie Valli were Bonnie's first true loves. Frankie sang Ragdoll like he was singing just to her. She loved the lyrics. When she was just a kid, her clothes were hand-me-down.

They always laughed at her when she came into town. That was Bonnie. How did he know? Maybe one day she could get a guy like Frankie or Elvis. Maybe Bonnie could even be a star herself, live in a Hollywood mansion, get her name in the papers. She wasn't yet sure how she was going to do it, but she would find a way.

She'd show everyone. Bonnie Lee Bakley was going to be somebody. It's 1.30 a.m. at LAPD's North Hollywood station, a sprawling glass and brick building next to the 170 freeway. Detective Ron Ito huddles in the squad room with the robbery homicide team. It's been four hours since Bonnie Lee Bakley was found shot dead, and Ito wants to hear what they've learned. Lieutenant Hartwell from Homicide Special tells him that Blake was questioned for over an hour. He's still in the room down the hall.

They're trying to hold him until Ido got there. But he's getting antsy. He's got his entertainment attorney with him. Ido shoots him a look. What's he need a lawyer for? Hartwell shrugs. You know how this town is. Detective Supervisor Mike coffee pipes in.

After talking to him, I've got more questions than answers. Mike coffee pipes in. After talking to him, I've got more questions than answers. Blake told a long and convoluted story about the evening leading up to Bonnie's murder. The couple went to dinner at Vitello's, Blake's favorite restaurant. The restaurant has a parking lot, but he parked a block and a half away on a dark side street. Coffee continues talking. Maybe he wanted to avoid paying the valet. But then, get this, he claims he forgot his gun in the restaurant and goes back to get it. When he comes back to the car, Bonnie's slumped over and bleeding. Coffee explains that Blake's gun was a.38 and a slug they found on the floor of the

car was a 9mm. So Blake didn't shoot her, at least not with that gun. Did he say why he was carrying? Coffee shakes his head. That's where things got weird. Every time they asked a question, Blake would change the subject to Bonnie. Said she had a lot of enemies. She ran a nationwide porno ring, selling nude photos to lonely men and scamming them any way she could. Ido rubs his forehead. Police Chief Parks gave the case to Homicide Special because it involves a celebrity. But it looks like the wild card here isn't Blake, it's Bonnie. So why the hell did Blake marry her? Coffee sketches out the details.

Blake says she deliberately got pregnant to try and shake him down. He married her a few months ago because he wanted to do right by the baby. But the more he learned about her past, the more worried he was for Bonnie's safety and his own. Ido takes a moment to sort through the details. If Blake was so worried for her safety that he brought a gun to dinner, why would he park on a dark street and leave Bonnie alone? Ido wonders if he's setting up an alibi. Anybody in the restaurant see him when he went back for the gun?

Coffee says no. The owner had no recollection of Blake returning until after the murder. A detective pokes his head into the squad room. Blake's leaving. Ido steps into the hallway. The actor looks exhausted. He's wearing a tight black shirt, jeans, and cowboy boots. His face is pale.

I'm 67 years old. I'm tired and I want to lie down. Ito looks at Blake's attorney. I have a few questions for your client before he goes. The lawyer shakes his head. Not tonight. Nothing Ito can do. He can't keep Blake unless he arrests him.

We're going to need to search Mr. Blake's house. Again, the lawyer says no. Which means Ido will need a search warrant. The attorney throws him a bone. Bakley was living in the guest house. You could search that. Okay, I'll send someone now. As Blake leaves, Ido and the other detectives exchange looks. A husband whose wife has been murdered is usually full of questions.

Who could have done this? Who's going to investigate? Why aren't you out looking for the killer right now? But Robert Blake wants to go home and get some sleep. Ido turns to Coffee. That's the last statement we'll get. He won't talk again. Coffee nods.

Stats show when a woman is murdered, the killer is usually the husband or boyfriend. They'll need to clear Blake before they move on, but if they don't have access, it makes the job a lot harder. Guido gathers his things. He needs to get to the crime scene. If half of what Blake said is true, the case just got a hell of a lot crazier. Bonnie always thought working a 9-to-5 job was for suckers. She knew she was destined for bigger things. By 1973, she quit high school. Who needed books?

All she did was fall asleep in class anyway. She wanted to be famous, so she decided to try her hand at acting. Even flipped her name backward. Lee Bonnie sounded more glamorous. But all she got was work as an extra. She signed up for modeling school, but no one thought she had the right look. So Bonnie turned to music.

If Elvis could do it, why not her? She even wrote her own song about her lifelong quest to meet a celebrity. She saved up to record at a studio, and when the engineer told her he was rolling, she went for it. Hello, my name is Lee Bonnie. I'd like to tell you my story.

I'm chasing a celebrity. Turned out singing wasn't her calling either. Bonnie needed to do something she could control, something she was good at. And that's when she got the idea. It was the 1970s. Porn was practically mainstream. It was in local theaters in the bigger cities.

You could buy it in every newsstand. Magazines with names like Love World and American Swingers. They were filled with lurid photo spreads tucked between articles on how to seduce the couple next door. And then there were the back pages filled with calls for nude modeling, gigs that paid. Bonnie had a pretty good figure, nice breasts, good legs. She knew men liked her, so she modeled for a while. Made okay money, but then she thought of a way to make even more and cut out the middleman. She remembered seeing singles ads in all those magazines. Lonely men wanting company.

Why not place her own ad? Ask for money in exchange for some pics. So she sat down and wrote. Beautiful girl, 23, brown eyes, 5'5", shapely 120 pounds, very lonely. In desperate need to find someone to write, talk to, and meet with soon. I'm free to travel. Are you? Bonnie couldn't believe how many guys replied.

Every day, her post office box was crammed full of letters. She decided to write each one of them back with a personal response. Dear Mike, Hi, George. Hiya, honey. Thank you, darling, for writing to me. Then a descriptive picture of herself. I have golden blonde hair and big brown eyes. I have brown eyes and same

I have green eyes and long hair. Then she added a little foreplay to spice things up. I really enjoy tender love. I have some methods of getting a man back at me. There's nothing I would rather do more than give you the pleasure that you need. And finally, the sexy photos along with a pitch. I've enclosed a very special and personal gift for you. Photos of me. So please send me $20. Reply $40 as a form of sincerity. Send me at least $125 or $150.

The cash poured in. Easy money. And within a couple of years, she was the CEO of a successful home-based porn business. She named it United Singles Incorporated. Bonnie may not have made it as an actor, but this was a role she was born to play. Detective Ito parks his car on the side street near Vitello's restaurant in Studio City.

It's 4 a.m. on May 5th, nearly six and a half hours since Bonnie Lee Bakley was shot. There's a full moon bathing the lawns in a yellow-gray light. A newscopter hovers overhead. With him is Steve Agucci, an officer from Metro who recently passed his detective exam. Ido has taken him under his wing. The two detectives quickly walk from the restaurant to Blake's black Dodge Stealth, where half a dozen cops are processing the scene. Ido notes the street lamp above the car is burnt out, so the area would have been dark when Bonnie was shot. Blake parked next to a house that's under construction. The large dumpster in front of the chain link fence would make a perfect place for an execution. Ido takes out his flashlight and circles the car.

The black vinyl on the passenger seat glistens with Bonnie's blood. There's a mark on the floor where detectives found a shell casing. A second one was found on the street, inches away from the passenger door. That tells Ido she was shot at close range. Ido glances at the dumpster. A million to one chance there's anything useful in there, but experience tells him you don't overlook anything. He tells Iguchi to have it hauled to the landfill, turn it over, and go over everything inside. It's almost dawn when Lieutenant Hartwell walks up to Ido with unsettling news. He's been on a call to the department's media relations office, and the press is already hounding them.

Everybody wants to know if this is another OJ. Another OJ is the LAPD's worst nightmare. A high-profile case where shoddy police work meant a probable murderer walked free. It was a black eye for the department. Heads rolled. Ido survived, but he was further down the food chain. Ido knows firsthand there's always pressure with homicide cases, but this will be worse. Every move the LAPD makes will be analyzed, questioned, turned inside out.

It can hamper an investigation, taint witnesses, but Ito has to stay focused. A woman was murdered in cold blood. It's up to him to find the killer and bring them to justice. and bring them to justice. Harvard is the oldest and richest university in America. But when a social media-fueled fight over Harvard and its new president broke out last fall, that was no protection. Claudian Gay is now gone. We've exposed the DEI regime, and there's much more to come.

This is The Harvard Plan, a special series from the Boston Globe and WNYC's On the Media. To listen, subscribe to On the Media wherever you get your podcasts. It was December 7th, 1988, 13 years until Bonnie Lee Bakley would be found murdered in a car in the valley. But today, she was standing at an altar in Elko, Nevada, waiting to wed husband number four. The groom was 81. She was 32. Marrying DeMart was part of Bonnie's master plan. After rings were exchanged, DeMart was eager to head up to their room and start their honeymoon night. But Bonnie had a different idea. I want to play the slots for good luck. Start us off right. You wait here. Won't take long. Oh, and I'll need some change.

DeMart handed her a roll of nickels. Don't be long, darling. Our evening awaits. She blew him a kiss and walked toward the slot machines. The place was packed. Bonnie had to make this look good. She dropped a nickel into one of the machines and pulled the arm. No jackpot. She glanced back at the bar. No DeMart. This was her shot. She scurried to the lobby and pulled out a key to one of the lockers. Inside was her suitcase, but it was the second bag that she was most interested in. It contained DeMart's gun and his late wife's jewelry. She grabbed them both, then hightailed it out the door.

Screw the honeymoon. Bonnie Lee Bakley needed to get the hell out of Elko. Bonnie had upped her game since the early days of United Singles Incorporated. She was going after bigger fish. Promising suitors were now run through a detailed asset check. If the man had money, he was dropped into a spreadsheet divided into categories. Old and rich, young and rich, and doctors and attorneys. Like any good businesswoman, she did market research,

combed the newspapers and trades for leads, cattle ranchers in Oklahoma, stockbrokers in New York, and her dream list client, the celebrity. There was a special category for marks who were recently widowed or getting old. If they had property or life insurance, she used promises of sex and love to get them to propose. That's how she got husband number five, a farmer from Missouri. They dated by mail for six months. On the night of their wedding, Bonnie took all his money and drove off in his new van. Husband number six was her biggest score yet,

a widower from Florida, 80-something. The marriage lasted two days, just long enough for Bonnie to empty his bank account and crawl out his second-floor window in the middle of the night with a cool 350K. To people who asked if she ever married for love, she could point to husband number two, Paul Gorin, who also happened to be her first cousin.

They got hitched when she was 21, had two kids together. He wasn't bothered at all that she worked in the porn business. He even helped out. When she and Paul got divorced five years later, he stayed and took care of the kids. He even helped out. When she and Paul got divorced five years later, he stayed and took care of the kids. He even helped out managing office details, but just the small stuff. Only Bonnie could match up the right photos to the right marks. She knew men better than they knew themselves.

By 1998, when she met Robert Blake, Bonnie had collected 10 ex-husbands, 14 aliases, and $500,000 in real estate investments. She drove a midnight blue Mercedes with a license plate that spelled out an acronym, Number One Risk Taker. The high-stakes game Bonnie was playing came with its share of danger. She could land in jail or cross the wrong guy. But she wasn't worried. She had a knack for landing on her feet, sweet-talking her way out of tricky situations. But the fact remained, after so many cons, Bonnie had enemies. As husband number three would later say,

I told her someone was going to kill her. She was playing everybody. Bonnie's nerves were on edge. It had been two weeks since she had sex with Robert Blake in the parking lot of her hotel. Now she was back home in Memphis, hoping, scheming, and mostly waiting for him to call. But so far, nothing. Until... Bonnie took a deep breath.

Let it ring again. Hello, this is Bonnie. Hi, Bonnie. Let it ring again. Hello, this is Bonnie. Hi, Bonnie. It's Robert Blake. Bonnie's feet itched to do a victory dance. I was hoping you would call. From there, the conversation flowed. The best parts were the stories he told about his Hollywood days and wild exploits. There was an undercurrent of danger to Robert Blake.

It was the Jersey lingo and accent. He was so confident. Bonnie was going to have to kick up her game, let him know she lived dangerously too. So, I probably shouldn't be telling you this, but I run a sex business. I mean, you won't call the cops, will you? She held her breath and waited. A sex business, huh? She read him right. He was intrigued.

Bonnie decided to lay it on thick, stretch the truth. Actually, my whole family is on the wrong side of the law. My brother's a hitman. And my sister's a drug dealer for the Colombian cartel. In reality, Joey was in construction and Marjorie was a secretary. Maybe she went a little too far. But no, he took the whole thing in stride. I knew someone up in Sing Sing who worked for the cartel. She felt like she could talk to him forever, but she had to leave him wanting more.

Well, I should probably get going. And then Blake said the magic words she was hoping to hear. Why don't you give me a call next time you're in town? When she hung up, Bonnie couldn't stop smiling. She imagined herself in a wedding dress, standing by Robert Blake's side. But she was getting ahead of herself. She needed to get back to L.A. There was a celebrity she had to reel in. It's early morning, May 5th, 2001.

Eight hours since Bonnie Lee Bakley was pronounced DOA at St. Joe's Hospital in Burbank. Detective Steve Agucci pulls his cruiser into the Bradley Landfill in Sun Valley. Sun Valley is a working-class neighborhood in Northeast Los Angeles. Home to more than 30 landfills, a constant waft of garbage is the bane of residents' existence. But Iguchi's not here to test the air quality.

He's here to look for evidence. A criminalist and police photographer are already there to meet him. The dumpster from the crime scene has been brought here, and its contents poured into two separate piles, small hills of lumber and construction trash. Iguchi snaps on a pair of latex gloves. Ready for this?

The criminalist gives him a thumbs up. Iguchi takes off his suit jacket and gets started on the first pile. It's tedious work. Everything must be meticulously examined, photographed, and cataloged. When they're done with the stack, Eguchi wipes away sweat from his forehead. I'm going to give this one more look.

You can get started on the second pile. A few minutes later, he hears his name. Eguchi, I think I got something. Aguchi walks over and sees a glint in the debris, something metallic, a gun. It has a long, thin barrel, possibly World War II. The outside is slick with oil. The hammer is cocked and safety off. One bullet in the chamber.

The criminalist holds it gently in his gloves. It's a P-38 semi-automatic. A Walther. Aguchi can't wait to tell Ito. Looks like they found their murder weapon. This is episode one of six of The Execution of Bonnie Lee Bakley. A quick note about our scenes. Some scripted dialogue has been added for narrative cohesiveness.

We used many sources when researching this story, but sources we found exceptionally helpful are Blood Cold, Fame, Sex and Murder in Hollywood by Dennis McDougall and Mary Murphy, and Homicide Special, A Year with the LAPD's Elite Detective Unit by Miles Corwin. Our show was produced by Rebecca Reynolds, Jim Carpenter, and myself for Hollywood and Crime. Our writers are Steve Chivers and Elizabeth Cosen. Our senior producer and editor is Laura Donna Palavoda with additional editing by Natalie Shisha. Consulting by Thomas Jay. Sound design is by Kyle Randall. Audio assistance from Sergio Enriquez. Additional reporting by Alyssa J. Perry. Our senior story editor is Rachel Doyle, and our senior producer is Janine Cornelow. Executive producers are Stephanie Jens and Marshall Louis for Wondery.

To be continued... joining Wondery Plus in the Wondery app or on Apple Podcasts. Before you go, tell us about yourself by completing a short survey at wondery.com slash survey.