Hollywood & Crime - The Wonderland Murders | Four on the Floor | 1

Episode Date: September 21, 2024

July 1, 1981. The Fourth of July weekend is over before it begins for LAPD Detectives Tom Lange and Robert Souza. Four people have been found brutally murdered on Wonderland Avenue in the Hollywood Hills. Another has been left for dead. From the extreme violence of the crime, Lange suspects that someone is sending a message. When a handprint is found near one of the victims, the detectives believe it could be their first big break.Listen to all episodes of The Wonderland Murders ad-free. Join Wondery+ for exclusives, binges, early access, and ad free listening. Available in the Wondery App: https://wondery.app.link/wonderlandSee Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

You're listening to the first episode of The Wonderland Murders. To continue the journey, you can binge episodes 2 through 7 exclusively with Wondery Plus. Start your free trial today in the Wondery app, Apple Podcasts, or Spotify. The Wonderland Murders by Hollywood and Crime contains depictions of violence and is not suitable for everyone. Please be advised. This is July 1, 1981. We are at 8763 Wonderland Drive. We are now in the residence.

Apparent blood splatterings are evident on the south and west walls and on the sofa located on the west wall of the living room. There is evidence of ransacking in this room. Apparent narcotics paraphernalia is evident on the coffee table directly above victim one. Victim one's head is facing in a solidly direction. The body is partially covered by a pink and white checkered spread. With the Fourth of July weekend just beginning, LAPD Detective Tom Lang knew things could get strange. Still, he hoped for a relaxing weekend riding horses at the Antelope Valley home of his ex-partner. On call with the Homicide Special Section, he knew routine murders would be handled by

local police units. It would take a high-profile case to interrupt his plans. As he got back from the trails, his friend's wife came out of the house and motioned to him. She told him his wife Linda was on the phone and it sounded important. He took the receiver and knew immediately from the tone in Linda's voice that it was serious. Lieutenant Ron Lewis in Homicide was looking for him. Lang quickly found a pen and jotted down the details.

Four down in Laurel Canyon. The place was already thick with black and whites and news teams. So much for the weekend. Miles away, Lang's partner Bob Souza was lounging in the pool with a six-pack when his cordless phone rang. Not many people had his private number, so he answered it, thinking it might be the job. When Lang told him about the quadruple homicide in the Hollywood Hills,

Sousa thought it was a joke. He'd made a crack about a multiple murder ruining his holiday weekend on his way out that Friday. This was just cop humor. But he knew his partner well enough to know when he was kidding. He got out of the pool, took down the address, and headed into the house to get dressed. excitement MGM is famous for when you play classics like MGM Grand Millions or popular games like Blackjack, Baccarat, and Roulette. With our ever-growing library of digital slot games, a large selection of online table games, and signature BetMGM service, there's no better way to bring the excitement and ambiance of Las Vegas home to you than with BetMGM Casino.

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BetMGM operates pursuant to an operating agreement with iGamingOntario. 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. Detective Lang arrived at the Wonderland address before Souza, who was fighting traffic on Laurel Canyon Boulevard. It was an estimated 12 hours after the murders. The block was lined with camera trucks as news teams pressed to get information from officers.

Police and news helicopters buzzed overhead. The house was a sprawling white split level with two balconies in front. Unlike most of the residences on the block, it was in disrepair. The paint was chipped and weeds peeked through cracks in the driveway. Lang noticed the gated stairway leading to the entrance of the three-story house. The deadbolt lock was electronically controlled from inside. Responding officers had found two pit bulls running free in the yard. Lang entered the house, followed by an LAPD cameraman to document the scene.

The air was oppressive. The windows were shut and the hot LA evening intensified the stench of blood and death. They had to step carefully to avoid the pools of blood on the floor. The first body they encountered was a woman's. She was lying on her side between a sofa and coffee table. Her head had been crushed by repeated blows, her face a tangle of gore and hair. Lang noticed the sprays of blood on the walls reaching up to the ceiling, apparently cast off as someone raised and brought down the weapon repeatedly. Lange looked around at the drug paraphernalia, baggies and film canisters, traces of white powder, hypodermic needles, freebasing pipes.

The dead woman appeared to have no defensive wounds. The initial blow had probably landed while she was sleeping on the sofa. The pattern of blood on the lower walls indicated she'd been struck again and again after falling to the floor, likely dead or unconscious. The medical examiner would later find her body bore tattoos of a butterfly, a mushroom, a flower, a Minnie Mouse. Lange moved slowly through the residence, trying to piece together what had happened. Experience told him this was an act of rage. Blood sprays and transfers were everywhere, creating a tapestry of carnage and footprints on the pillars,

on the ceiling. Throughout the house, he saw empty drawers, piles of clothes haphazardly flung about. It was impossible to know yet whether the looting indicated a search for some particular valuable or was simply an opportunistic byproduct of the slaughter. The detective walked down a hall and entered a rear bedroom. A male victim lay on the bed, his head crushed by repeated blows. Bits of skull and brain reached up to the ceiling. Several hypodermics were lying around. Blood formed a large stain on the wall near where the only survivor, a woman, had been found and evacuated by an EMS team.

She had suffered massive brain trauma. Somehow a fragment of her skull had been wedged in such a way as to prevent her bleeding to death. The tip of one of her fingers had been severed, probably as she attempted to ward off the blows. Doctors didn't know if she would make it through the night. In a second-floor bedroom, Lang saw two more bodies, both with their heads bashed in. A male victim was partially propped against a TV stand. The television was still on.

Blood on the nearby curtains extended up to the ceiling. A woman lay on her back across the bed, her legs hanging over the edge. Her head had been crushed flat to the eyebrows. A dribble of gray brain matter extruded from her nose down to her lips. A hammer lay at the edge of the bed. Several of the police officers remarked that the scene was the worst they'd ever witnessed, more grisly even than the Manson slayings a dozen years earlier. As he surveyed the carnage, there was no doubt in Tom Lang's mind. This killing was meant to

send a message. No one knew yet who'd sent it or why, but this was personal. It would be 24 hours before the house would be fully canvassed and the bodies could be removed. When officers finished dusting for prints, they would find one that would prove to have particular significance. A palm print on the bed rail above the body of one of the victims. From Wondery, this is The Wonderland Murders by Hollywood and Crime. I'm Tracy Patton with our writer-director, Larry Brand. Today, our first episode, Four on the Floor. We invite you to come with us on a journey back to 1981, when four people were brutally murdered in a house in the Hollywood Hills.

The Wonderland Murders is the tale of a violent home invasion robbery and the revenge rampage that followed. It involves a drug-fueled gang of criminals, a crazed crime kingpin, and the world's most famous porn star on a downward spiral. Here's my co-host, Larry Brand. It's summer of 1968, Glendale, California. A young nurse comes home early after the doctor she's working for closes up for the afternoon. As she enters the small home she shares with her husband, she's working for closes up for the afternoon. As she

enters the small home she shares with her husband, she hears a sound coming from down the hall. She puts down her groceries and heads toward the bedroom. Noticing the bathroom door open, she peers inside. In the mirror, she can see her husband's face scrunched with intense concentration as he fiddles with something. She looks down and sees he has his penis in one hand and a tape measure in the other. John, Sharon Holmes asks, what are you doing? Her husband keeps looking down, immersed in his experiment. Sharon loses interest and heads into the bedroom, picking up a magazine. A moment later, John appears in the doorway. It's really something, he says. He's wearing that goofball grin she usually finds so infectious. It grows all the

way to 10 inches. Sharon sighs. John comes over and sits by her on the bed, giving her his best expression of earnestness. She puts down the magazine. After three years of marriage, he can tell when he's got something serious on his mind. Okay, John. He gathers himself with the magnitude of the occasion. Then he tells his wife he's found his calling in life. Ever since he was a boy, he felt he was somehow special. There was a higher purpose he was meant for, something that would set him apart. There was a higher purpose he was meant for, something that would set him apart. John Holmes wanted to be the best in the world at something, and he's finally realized what that something is.

He's going to be an actor. Well, thinks Sharon, five miles from Hollywood, that hardly sets him apart. No, not that kind of actor, he says, looking at her timidly. She takes a deep breath. She can't know at this moment that John is not being entirely truthful. That, in fact, he's already begun doing nude photo spreads ever since his talent was discovered in the Gardena Poker Parlor men's room. Or that he's appeared in several loops, eight to ten minute clips,

usually viewed at stag parties or peep shows in illegal clubs. But with John, the truth is always hard to pin down. It's something Sharon has gotten used to. He was gentle with her, almost shy when they met. She was still a virgin, and he'd show up at her door with flowers. It didn't matter to her that she'd seen him through the window, stealing them from a neighbor's lawn. His gallantry always came with an asterisk. But he wanted to please her, mindful of her needs. Maybe even a little afraid of her. Her approval seemed important to him, yet never quite attainable. Sharon now looks at him. She's not pleased with her husband's startling declaration. looks at him. She's not pleased with her husband's startling declaration. So you'd be having sex with other women. John stands up, paces the room, looks back at his wife. Then he launches into what will

become his mantra in the ensuing years. She can't be uptight about this, he tells her. She needs to let him fulfill his purpose in life. Those women mean nothing to him no more than tools mean to a carpenter. Sharon looks at her husband of three years. She's a traditional girl who's been bypassed by the sexual revolution. This is not what she expected to hear. But divorce isn't acceptable either. John Holmes has discovered

what he wants to do in life, and nothing is going to stop him. Detectives Tom Lang and Bob Souza wasted no time setting up their murder investigation. They knew it would be a high-profile case due to the brutality of the crime and number of victims. Wonderland Avenue was clogged with news vans. The press was already calling the crime the four-on-the-floor murders. Both detectives had in mind the bungled Manson investigation. Reporters were already drawing comparisons to the murder of Sharon Tate in nearby Benedict Canyon. The detectives knew the LAPD would be closely watched. By now, Lang and Sousa

knew the victims' identities. The young woman on the floor of the living room was Barbara Richardson, age 22. The body in the back bedroom belonged to 37-year-old Ron Lanius. Joy Miller, 46, and Billy Deverell, 44, were found in the upstairs bedroom. All had been bludgeoned so badly they could only be identified by fingerprints. It was natural to assume the killings were over a heroin or cocaine drug deal gone bad. The previous year, narcotics officers had raided the house, suspecting Joy Miller and Billy Deverell were dealing cocaine there. After that, the house remained under police surveillance as a known drug distribution point.

At the time of the killings, rival dealers commonly fought turf wars in Los Angeles, though none had come to such a savage end. For the most part, dealers coexisted peacefully, selling to each other and to preferred clientele. What had happened at Wonderland was beyond anything the homicide detectives had seen. The occupants were considered dangerous. Several were suspects in multiple crimes. And their interest in drugs didn't discriminate. They would sell cocaine while shooting heroin.

Even in a trade not known for its morals, they were considered outlaws. On Monday night, June 12, 1972, a movie opens at the World Theater on 49th Street in New York's Times Square. It will become the unlikely social event of the season, attracting upper-crusty Manhattanites and international literati. Truman Capote sees it, as does Mike Nichols and Jack Nicholson. Johnny Carson jokes about it in his monologue, and stodgy Vice President Spiro Agnew admits having seen it.

As if granting the ultimate stamp of haute couture chic, Jackie Kennedy Onassis reveals she's seen it as well. Nothing would be unusual about this if it were the latest work of Kubrick, Bergman, or Kurosawa. But this is an indie film, long before the term indie was coined. It was made for $47,000 and will gross between $30 and $50 million. Some estimates range up to several hundred million, which would make it, dollar for dollar, the most profitable film ever made. It's advertised in the New York Times as Throat,

though that's a discreet shortening of its actual title. Deep Throat. Open your mouth. Well, there it is. Your glitter is deep down in the bottom of your throat. Open your mouth. Well, there it is, your clitoris. It's deep down in the bottom of your throat. Listen, having a clitoris deep down in the bottom of your throat is better than having no clitoris at all. Over the coming months and years, battles will be fought over constitutional issues regarding artistic censorship and freedom of expression. The definition of obscenity will change

from utterly without socially redeeming value to lacking serious literary, artistic, or political value. The world theater will be raided again and again. Racketeering charges will be leveled against the producers, thought to have links to organized crime. Male lead Harry Reams will be tried and convicted, only to have his conviction overturned on appeal. The star, Linda Lovelace, will later claim she'd been beaten and coerced,

that anyone watching the movie is witnessing her rape. Both actors receive day rates of a few hundred dollars, with no participation in the movie's monumental financial success. Laws will evolve, as will police tactics. Most significantly, at the height of the sexual revolution, changing social attitudes will transform the fabric of American culture. The adult film, as it will become known, evolves from grainy eight millimeter loops to scripted productions that imitate their Hollywood

counterparts. And watching them will be transformed from a dirty secret indulged in by shifty-eyed men in raincoats to a mainstream activity accepted by most Americans. Though few realize it on this June night, the golden age of porn has begun. He was hip-hop's biggest mogul, the man who redefined fame, fortune, and the music industry. The first male rapper to be honored on the Hollywood Walk of Fame, Sean Diddy Cone. Diddy built an empire and lived a life most people only dream about.

Everybody know ain't no party like a Diddy party, so. Yeah, that's what's up. But just as quickly as his empire rose, it came crashing down. Today I'm announcing the unsealing of a three-count indictment charging Sean Combs with racketeering conspiracy, sex trafficking, interstate transportation for prostitution. I was f***ed up. I hit rock bottom, but I made no excuses. I'm disgusted. I'm so sorry. Until you're wearing an orange jumpsuit, it's not real. Now it's real.

From his meteoric rise to his shocking fall from grace, from law and crime, this is the rise and fall of Diddy. Listen to the rise and fall of Diddy exclusively with Wondery Plus. Each morning, it's a new opportunity, a chance to start fresh. Up First from NPR makes each morning an opportunity to learn and to understand. Choose to join the world every morning with Up First, a podcast that hands you everything going on across the globe and down the street, all in 15 minutes or less. Start your day informed and anew with Up First by subscribing wherever you get your podcasts. The couple at 8761 Wonderland Avenue had had enough.

It wasn't simply that the eyesore next door stood out against the well-maintained houses along the pleasant Laurel Canyon Street. The constant flux of seedy characters coming and going at all hours made them feel unsafe. So on July 1st, the movers came to gather the couple's belongings and take them to a new home. Walking down the stairs that ran between the two houses, one of the moving men thought he heard someone moaning from next door. He looked over and saw several men quickly exiting the house. One of them looked over and yelled that there were dead bodies inside. The movers noticed that the door to 8763 was ajar, and one of them went over to investigate.

He pushed the door open and stuck his head inside. An instant later, he was half running, half stumbling back down the stairs. The other movers saw the expression of horror on his face. He ran past them into the neighboring house and grabbed the phone to call the police. No one had reported anything suspicious coming from the house that early morning. But that was likely because there was always something going on at the Wonderland residence. Harsh yelling voices, pounding rock music, slamming doors at all hours of the day and night. Cars would make their way up the winding canyon roads and stop in front of the gate.

Figures would dart out onto the balcony and toss bags of dope down to waiting customers. Nearby residents got used to it or moved out. Later, one neighbor told police she thought the screams she'd heard were part of a primal scream therapy session in vogue at the time. Or maybe someone was tripping out on drugs. Another simply turned up the volume on his TV

to drown out the sounds. In the house next door, a man was awakened by his girlfriend at 4 a.m. She said she'd heard a woman begging, Oh, God, don't kill me. He told her to go back to sleep. Nestled between Hollywood and the San Fernando Valley, Laurel Canyon had become a comfortable retreat

for both upcoming and established L.A. players. Secluded from the city clamor, yet less than a mile from the Sunset Strip, it had been home to Orson Welles, Mary Astor, Clara Bow and Robert Mitchum. In the 1960s, it became a mecca for the West Coast counterculture, home to a disparate family of rock musicians. Jim Morrison had a place there, as did Neil Young, Carole King, and Joni Mitchell. By the summer of 1981, the governor of California, Jerry Brown,

kept a home in Laurel Canyon. Less than a mile away sat the split level at 8763 Wonderland Avenue. It stood out among the sedate and well-kept homes on the block. The lawn grew ragged, the paint was cracked and fading, the gate was rusting. The house had become a regular hangout for the den of junkies, thieves, and dealers, known as the Wonderland Gang. On August 8, 1944, John Curtis Holmes is born, the youngest of four siblings. His father, Edward, is an alcoholic, his mother, Mary, a devout Baptist. The home is a scene of violent shouting matches, drunken fits, and tentative reconciliations.

Edward staggers half-blind through the house, vomiting on everything and everyone in sight before collapsing on the bed or floor. By the time John is eight, his parents are divorced. Mary soon marries Harold, a manic-depressive living on disability ever since intentionally ramming his hand into a harvesting machine, losing his thumb and three fingers. He treats Mary's children well enough until their son David is born. Then his stepchildren fall out of favor.

Suddenly, everything John does is wrong. Harold regularly beats him during his drunken rages. To escape the turmoil, John takes refuge in the nearby woods. The introverted boy finds himself more at home in nature, losing track of time as he teaches himself to hunt and trap. He enjoys Sunday school, keeping a perfect attendance record. But, gangly and awkward, he's shy around other people. One day during one of their violent confrontations, Harold throws John down a flight of stairs. This time John has had enough. He charges his stepfather and swings a wild roundhouse punch.

Harold hits the floor unconscious and John runs from the house. A few days later he returns when he knows Harold isn't around. He finds his mother and shows her an application to join the army. He tells her if she doesn't sign it, she'll never see him again. At 16, John leaves home forever. He serves three years in the Signal Corps in Germany before being honorably discharged. Upon returning to the States, he moves to California and soon finds work as an ambulance driver in L.A. There he meets Sharon Gebanini, a nurse at USC County General. They've only been dating a few months when he proposes.

They are married in August 1965. They try hard to conceive, but Sharon has three miscarriages in the space of a year and a half. John finds work as a forklift operator at a meatpacking plant, but exposure to the cold of the refrigeration units causes his right lung to collapse and he has to quit. He works a series of odd jobs, including chocolate stirrer at a candy factory. Nothing lasts long, and nothing seems equal to his own sense of potential. When John divulges his new career plan to his wife, Sharon doesn't betray much of her reaction. After three years of marriage, he knows better than to try to change his mind.

She might not be able to control him, but she isn't going to give her approval either. It would be like being married to a hooker, she tells him. He avoids her eyes, as he frequently does, shying away from confrontation. He's like a child, she thinks. She's only a year older than him, but might as well be his mother. Hard as it is to love him at times, she can't bring herself to hate him either. father. Hard as it is to love him at times, she can't bring herself to hate him either. Over the ensuing years, they will continue to cohabit, falling into a semblance of married life.

Sharon will cook his meals and do his laundry. John will disappear for hours or days at a time, and she will know better than to ask where he's been. He will grow his hair out and adopt the affectations of the trade, the wispy mustache and cheesy three-piece suits. He'll have jewelry created for him, most famously a large diamond solitaire worn in his movies. Forgoing the convention of adopting a pseudonym in his adult film work, he'll use his real name in most of his movies. He seems as proud of his profession as if he were any Hollywood star. As his fame grows, he'll often be conflated with what has become his filmic alter ego, low-rent private detective Johnny Wadd. But everyone who knows the world of adult entertainment will soon know John C. Holmes.

Detectives Lang and Souza quickly learned the lease of the Wonderland address was in the name of murder victim Joy Miller. Divorced from a Beverly Hills lawyer because of her drug addiction, Miller was the mother of two adult daughters. She shared the house and a heroin habit with her boyfriend, 44-year-old Billy Deverell. Deverell had been arrested multiple times for possession. At the time of his murder, he'd been right-hand man to Ron Lanius, leader of the outlaw group taking up residence at the house. Lanius was a Vietnam-era vet who'd been dishonorably discharged

after being accused of smuggling heroin back into the States, inside the bodies of dead servicemen. In 1974, he was charged with the murder of a police informant. When a witness for the prosecution was killed in a police shootout, charges were dropped. Lanius later served three years in federal prison for smuggling heroin and cocaine into the U.S. from Mexico. By the time he'd moved into the Wonderland house, he was considered a person of interest in over two dozen California murders. One police officer described him as one of the coldest people he'd ever met.

While in prison, Lanius had met David Lind, a freelance bounty hunter and drug addict who'd done time for forgery, burglary, assault, and possession. He was also rumored to be a police informant who would turn in associates whenever he needed to get out from under charges of his own. Lind joined the Wonderland gang in 1981 to lend his expertise to their growing drug-running operation. He and Lanius committed burglaries and armed robberies to support their habit. Stealing from citizen and criminal alike, they'd return to the house flush with the proceeds from their latest job, tossing garbage bags of money or jewelry on the floor. At the time of the murders, rumor was there was a contract out on the gang.

They had stiffed a big customer on a quarter of a million dollar deal by substituting a pound of baking soda for cocaine. Lynn seemed to have escaped the Wonderland massacre by pure chance, spending the night doing drugs with two women in the valley. But his girlfriend hadn't. doing drugs with two women in the valley. But his girlfriend hadn't. Barbara Richardson was only 22 when she was bludgeoned to death while sleeping on a sofa at the Wonderland House. When Bob Chin was a film student at UCLA in the 1960s, he envisioned a future of directing masterpieces like those of his heroes,

John Ford, Louis Bunuel, Kurosawa. By 1971, he's well on his way to making more films than all of his idols combined, though they're unlikely to be reviewed by critics like Pauline Kael or Vincent Canby. Instead, they're passed around surreptitiously at frat parties, sent through the mail in plain brown wrappers, and pulled from under the counter at seedy shops along Hollywood Boulevard or New York's 42nd Street. They're called stag films or beaver girl loops, poorly lit eight millimeter productions that show couples having sex. At 28, Bob's career path is led far from the kind of filmmaking

that garners the public adulation he might have hoped for in college. But at least he's making movies. It's during prep for his latest shoot that a slender, scruffy-looking man comes into his office looking for work on the crew. He tells the director he can gaff or grip. Bob lets him know they're already crewed up. Well, says John Holmes, he's also an actor.

In fact, that's where his real interest lies. Bob isn't impressed. Shaggy and gangly, this guy has more of the bearing of an aging teen than leading man in a porn flick. In fact, he bears a striking resemblance to Eddie Haskell from Leave It to Beaver. Bob asks what John feels his qualifications are. John drops his pants, and the audition is over. That night, an inspired Bob Chin goes home and writes the outline for a screenplay on the back of a legal-size envelope.

But this isn't going to be just another sex loop, with nameless individuals meeting and screwing. No, this is going to have a plot. It'll have sets and costumes, characters with real dialogue, not just the grunts and moans of a stag short. This will be a movie. Inspired by films like The Maltese Falcon and Kiss Me Deadly, Bob sets about creating his own version of a noir classic. His vision is to create a character around John, a low-rent private eye replete with all the pulp conventions, working out of a seedy office, following mysterious characters who leave behind dubious clues.

He'll have sex, of course, with the women he encounters, but that's almost beside the point to Bob. As the 70s blossom into the great age of American cinema with such masterpieces as The Godfather, Serpico, and Taxi Driver, Bob Chin will be part of the reinvention of the adult film. In the days after the massacre on Wonderland Avenue, there was a great deal of confusion. Because of the number and severity of the injuries, only an autopsy could determine what had inflicted the damage.

In one early report, an LAPD sergeant described the killings as an axe murder. Later, he would say the victims had been shot. Neither would turn out to be true. Detective Lang's suspicion that the locking mechanism on the gate could only be opened from the inside was confirmed by the owner of the property. That suggested the victims had let the assailants in. One potential suspect had been arrested running down the street on the morning the bodies had been discovered. He was released when it turned out he had panicked after hearing about the killings. With the Manson crime still on people's minds, police were at pains to stress that no show business personalities were among the dead. A Cedars-Sinai spokesman confirmed that the surviving victim had not been shot,

but had suffered severe lacerations and cuts to the head and neck. The tip of her right pinky finger had been severed, and Lieutenant Ron Lewis reported, There appeared to be ransacking of the house, but it was difficult to say if there was a struggle. At the time of the murders, the Wonderland gang was already under police surveillance. Considering their reputations, drugs seemed to be the likely reason for the murders. Joy Miller, leaseholder on the house, had been arrested on narcotics charges 13 months earlier during a raid on the property.

narcotics charges 13 months earlier during a raid on the property. Her trial had been scheduled to begin within the month. It was common practice for police and district attorneys to offer deals to lower-level drug defendants. Turning state's evidence against a large-scale distributor might secure a lighter sentence. Was it possible Joy Miller had been eliminated as a potential witness against a major L.A. drug kingpin? Given the surprising success of Deep Throat, X-rated movies have done the near impossible. They have gone from shameful to chic. Partially to take advantage of the widening audience, partially to escape the scrutiny of the authorities, the porn industry makes a calculated decision. If socially redeeming value will keep them out of court, they'll create socially redeeming value.

If all that takes is adding a little plot and more stylish production to the films, what works for the producers works doubly for the filmmakers. Directors like Bob Chin can reimagine themselves as legitimate auteurs with stories to tell and art to make. The sex, or so they tell themselves, is almost incidental. Whether an audience would ever sit through Deep Throat or Behind the Green Door without the explicit scenes is beside the point.

If story protects them from legal action, stories they will create. Bob Chin's detective, shaggy-haired and mustachioed, If story protects them from legal action, stories they will create. Bob Chin's detective, shaggy-haired and mustachioed, will travel the world getting into trouble. He'll always be a step ahead of danger and two steps behind the mystery, sleeping with client and criminal alike. But there's something more to the character than a prodigious sexual appetite,

or maybe a little less. Beyond his singular measurement, John is singularly unimpressive. Average-looking, with a skinny, unmuscled body, he's an X-rated everyman. With his goofy, hangdog expression, he's unintimidating. John has created an affable, non-threatening protagonist that never comes off as better, smarter, or slicker than anyone. In his own way, he's natural. The legend of Johnny Wadd is about to be born. Though in the public imagination, the murder's brutality was reminiscent of the Manson slayings, In the public imagination, the murder's brutality was reminiscent of the Manson slayings. Laurel Canyon residents comforted themselves with the idea that this must be drug-related.

That would safely place them beyond the reach of such random horrors. This time, their expectation would prove true. Days after the massacre, police received a tip that the crime scene had been breached. Officers quickly responded to the Wonderland address and found a man rooting around among the rubble. He was obviously high and appeared to be scrounging for drugs. When taken into custody, he turned out to be a convicted felon in Cokehead who was part of the Wonderland gang. He'd been doing drugs in the valley on the night of the murders. The detectives would soon learn there had been another intended victim. His name was David Lind.

Bob Chin thinks John Holmes is asking for an outrageous fee. With a budget of $750, the production can hardly afford to pay its lead actor 75 bucks. When John says that's his growing rate, Bob assumes correctly that he's lying. But if John can shoot four sex scenes in a day, as he claims, it would mean Bob could scratch one actor off the cast list. He agrees to John's price. Another problem is John's scruffy look, more surfer dude than private eye. The afro's got to go, Bob tells him, pointing to the curly bangs drifting down into his eyes. John slicks back his hair with brillantine and

buries it under a hat. He finds the one blue suit he owns and brings it to the set. Bob doesn't think he looks much like a detective, but it's not as if they have a makeup and wardrobe budget. The movie is shot in one day, almost entirely at the detective's beach house. Johnny Waugh takes the case of a missing girl and proceeds to have sex with the clients in lieu of a fee. Without leaving the house, he manages to solve the case when the girl conveniently shows up at his door.

When the script calls for its hard-drinking protagonist to down a shot of bourbon, the star curls up his nose. Is this real whiskey? he asks. So, says Bob, I don't drink alcohol. Bob sighs. Already this guy's becoming a pain in the ass. The film's producer has the bourbon replaced with Lipton tea and gives John a look. Can you handle tea? Just don't make it too strong, John quips.

Later, John confides to Bob Chin that his stepfather was a drunk who abused both him and his mother. Since then, he's avoided alcohol. The director also notes that John turns down offers of weed when the shoot wraps for the day. His only drug seems to be the cigarette always dangling from his lips. He must go through three packs a day. John certainly has his quirks. He claims to be an expert on any subject that comes up, using made-up facts to support his contention.

His lies are usually harmless enough, a made-up degree or a feigned expertise in something he clearly knows nothing about. Yet Bob finds his lead actor ingratiating and eager. John learns his lines quickly and delivers them naturally. He's even willing to do his own stunts. Though he fails to perform the promised four sex scenes, Bob decides he was worth the $75.

Within a few weeks, Bob's instincts are confirmed. Distributors in New York are asking for more films featuring the lascivious private investigator. And the first porn franchise is born. By late 74, three sequels will have been produced, and John Holmes will be earning $1,000 a day. Sometime in 1974, John and Sharon Holmes move into a small stucco cottage in Glendale, California. It's part of a 10-unit complex owned by a pediatrician Sharon works for. The doctor offers them free rent if they'll manage the property. John has always demonstrated a gift

for handiwork and carpentry and busies himself tending to repairs and minor renovations. By now, John and Sharon are living more like brother and sister than man and wife, By now, John and Sharon are living more like brother and sister than man and wife. Or maybe more like mother and wayward son. Sharon has never seen one of his movies, refuses to even discuss that part of his life. They share a bed, but sex between them is off-limits. Throughout the 1970s, as his film career grows, so does the legend of John Holmes, most of it by his own invention.

By John's account, he was raised by a wealthy aunt who'd been married 15 times. He's lived in New York and Florida, London and Paris, lost his virginity at age six to his Swiss nursemaid. He's received advanced degrees, authored dozens of books, owned 10 businesses. He's a dancer, a scholar, a master chef. He's had sex with 14,000 women, three governors and one senator. He's an international gigolo paid fortunes to sleep with wealthy heiresses or sire the children of European diplomats. Even his self-measured erect length has increased from 10 to 14 inches, each of which is insured by Lloyds of London for a million dollars. But what needs no embellishment is John's emerging status as the undisputed king of the American porn industry.

Anyone familiar with the world of adult films knows Johnny Wadd, and his refusal to take a nom to film means that everyone knows Johnny Wadd is John C. Holmes. Within days, detectives Tom Lang and Bob Souza believed they knew what had gone down that night at the Wonderland house. They had learned about a home invasion robbery two days before the murders. The victim in that case had been a rival drug dealer and well-known Los Angeles club owner. He had been terrorized and humiliated, the barrel of a gun stuck in his mouth. Over a million dollars in cash, drugs, and jewelry had been taken from his house.

a million dollars in cash, drugs, and jewelry had been taken from his house. His 300-pound bodyguard had been grazed by a bullet. The bodyguard was known to wield a steel pipe, similar to the one police now believed had been used to bash in the heads of the Wonderland victims. But it was neither the club owner nor the bodyguard who would be charged with the murders. the club owner nor the bodyguard who would be charged with the murders. The suspect was believed to have been a participant in both crimes, the murders being revenge for the robbery. In both cases, he had let the assailants into the victims' residences, and it was his handprint police had found on the bed rail above the body of Ron Lanius. He was an unlikely suspect. Though he'd occasionally run afoul of the law, it had been for minor offenses,

for theft or pimping and pandering. At times, he even served as a police informant. But he was a well-known figure in certain circles. He was an actor of sorts, made famous by his portrayal of a private detective in a film franchise. He was also known as the King of Porn. Next time on The Wonderland Murders, The Snitch.

Two vice detectives arrest John Holmes on charges of pimping and pandering. Faced with serving hard time, he becomes an informant for the LAPD. Like his fictional counterpart, Johnny Wadd, Holmes becomes a real-life undercover agent, turning in his associates in the adult film industry. turning in his associates in the adult film industry. Join Wondery Plus for more exclusives, binges, early access, and ad-free listening. Available in the Wondery app. You'll also see some offers from our sponsors.

Please support our show by supporting them. If you like what you've heard, we'd love you to give us a five-star rating and review us. And be sure to tell your friends and fans of true crime. We're counting on you to help us spread the word. Another way you can support our show is by filling out a short survey at Wondery.com slash survey. The Wonderland Murders is written and directed by Larry Brand and produced by Rebecca Reynolds, Tracy Patton, and Jim Carpenter for Hollywood and Crime. Producers wish to thank Jennifer Sugar and Jill C. Nelson,

authors of John Holmes, A Life Measured in Inches, Bob Chin, author of The Other Side of Paradise, The Uncensored Memoirs of Bob Chin. Julia St. Vincent, director of Exhausted, John C. Holmes, The Real Story. Special thanks to retired LAPD detective Tom Lang, co-author with Robert Souza of Malice in Wonderland. The Wonderland Murders was recorded at the Invisible Studios, West Hollywood, California. Executive producers Marsha Louis and Hernan Lopez for Wondery. The Wonderland Murders was recorded at the Invisible Studios, West Hollywood, California. Executive Producers Marsha Louis and Hernan Lopez for Wondery. You've just finished Episode 1 of The Wonderland Murders, and the chilling story of John Holmes and the brutal murders on Wonderland Avenue

has only begun to unfold. In episode two, John's drug addiction spirals out of control, threatening his career and his relationships. Desperate for money and his next fix, he crosses paths with the notorious drug kingpin, Eddie Nash. This dangerous alliance sets the stage for a deadly confrontation that will leave the streets of Los Angeles soaked in blood. As the detectives dig deeper into the investigation, they uncover a web of lies, betrayal, and murder that reaches the highest echelons of the city's criminal underworld. The stakes couldn't be higher as they race against time to bring the killers to justice

before more lives are lost. Episodes two through seven are available exclusively on Wondery Plus. Subscribe now to binge the rest of the season and dive into other gripping true crime and history podcasts that will keep you on the edge of your seat. Download the Wondery app and subscribe to Wondery Plus today so you don't miss a moment of this chilling story. 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. When TV producer Roy Radin was found dead in a canyon near L.A. in 1983,

there were many questions surrounding his death. The last person seen with him was Lainey Jacobs, a seductive cocaine dealer who desperately wanted to be part of the Hollywood elite. Together, they were trying to break into the movie industry. But things took a dark turn when a million dollars worth of cocaine and cash went missing. From Wondery comes a new season of the hit show Hollywood and Crime, The Cotton Club Murder. Follow Hollywood and Crime, The Cotton Club Murder on the Wondery app or wherever you get your podcasts.

You can binge all episodes of The Cotton Club Murder early and ad-free right now by joining Wondery Plus.