Killer Stories with Harvey Guillén - “The Death House Landlady” Pt. 1 - Dorothea Puente

Episode Date: August 21, 2018

This is a crossover special with the hosts of Serial Killers and Female Criminals. Dorothea Puente didn’t set out to become Sacramento, California’s most notorious female serial killer. But she did have a criminal streak that grew more sinister, culminating in the deaths of almost a dozen residents of the boarding house she ran. How was she able to evade detection from family members and social workers? And how did she get away with her first murder? Listen to part 2 now on the Female Criminals feed. Part 2 will not be on the Serial Killers feed. Thanks!  Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

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Listener discretion is advised. This episode includes discussions of murder, assault, and violence that some people may find offensive. We advise extreme caution for children under the age of 13. On April 27, 1982, Bill Monroe stopped by to visit his 61-year-old mother, Ruth, at a San Francisco boarding house. Ruth's landlady had alerted Bill that his mother was ill, and Bill wanted to check on her. As Bill climbed the creaky stairs of the old Victorian house, the landlady followed close behind. But Bill closed the door as she tried to follow him into Ruth's bedroom. He wanted to visit with his mother privately.

Bill tried to get Ruth to talk to him, but she would only stare at the wall, curled into the fetal position. Ruth hadn't ever had any real health problems, and Bill expected she'd recover. So after a short visit, he left. Had Ruth's voice not been locked? inside her paralyzed body, she could have told her son that she thought her new landlady had slipped something into the creme de menth cocktails Ruth drank to relax. Ruth died four days after Bill's visit. It wasn't until weeks later that Bill began to believe that something wasn't right about the woman who ran the boarding house. Little did he know

that Ruth was not landlady Dorothea Puente's first murder victim and wouldn't be her last. I'm Greg Polson. And I'm Vanessa Richardson. Welcome to a special crossover of serial killers and female criminals. Today, the show where we delve into the minds and madness of notorious killers, meets the show where we examine the psychology, motivations, and atrocities of female criminals. You may have noticed that today we're joined by my female criminals co-host, Sammy Nye. Hi, everyone.

I've brought together my co-hosts, Greg and Sammy, to explore the crimes of Dorothea. Puente, who murdered nine tenants in the San Francisco boarding house she ran in the 1980s. In 1988, 59-year-old Dorothea Puente became Sacramento, California's most notorious female serial killer after nine bodies were discovered buried in the backyard of the boarding house she operated. She killed at least nine people over the course of six years, so she could fraudulently cash the Social Security checks for herself. In today's episode, we'll take a look at Dorothea's childhood, her many marriages, her escalating criminal streak, and how she was able to evade detection for years by deceiving family members, social workers, and even federal investigators.

We'll also show you how she initially got away with her first murder. In part two, we'll explore the lives and deaths of Dorothea's other victims and why she killed them, as well as how a determined social worker started the chain of events that finally led to Dorothy is conviction and life sentence for murder. And while part one of this crossover will be available on both the female criminals and serial killers feeds, part two is available now and add free on the female criminals feed. So if you enjoy this episode, be sure to subscribe to female criminals to hear part two. You can find female criminals as well as all of Parcast's other shows on your favorite podcast

directory. You can also find us on Facebook and Instagram at Parcast and on Twitter, At Parcast Network. In 1982, Dorothea wrote a letter to a judge describing her difficult childhood in hopes of getting leniency. In it, she said, quote, I'd like to tell you first off, I'm of Mexican descent. When I was eight years old, I had to start working in the fields, end quote. She also said that she was the youngest of 18 children and one of only 14 who survived to adulthood. It's certainly a sympathetic backstory. The only problem is not much of what Dorothea told the judge was true.

Dorothea Helen Gray was actually born on January 9, 1929, to Jesse James Gray and Trudy May Gates in Redlands, California. She was the sixth of their seven children. The family was indeed quite poor. Her father, Jesse, had suffered mustard gas burns in World War I and developed tuberculosis as a result. depressed and unable to walk very far. Jesse often talked of suicide and regularly preached to his children about how unfair the world was.

Trudy, Dorothy's mother, was originally from Oklahoma. She married Jessie when she was 16 and was known to have a wild streak that even marriage and motherhood didn't temper. Both Trudy and Jesse were heavy drinkers, which fueled frequent and bitter arguments between the two. The Depression hit the grave,

family hard. Jesse, who had formerly made a decent living as a farmer, now mostly relied on his veteran's compensation checks to feed his family. They frequently moved around California, Nevada, and Oklahoma in search of field work, but there were more farmhands looking for work than there were crops to harvest. In 1934, when Dorothea was five, the family moved to Pomona, California. By this point, Jesse was mostly bedridden. Trudy was drinking. more heavily and would disappear for days at a time. It fell to Dorothea's older siblings to raise Dorothea and the rest of the children. Her oldest brother, James, was just 16. It wasn't long before Dorothea began to make up stories about herself and her life. As a first

and second grader, Dorothea was often scolded by her teachers for weaving intricate fantasies about her life. But before we delve into Dorothea's psychology, I just want to give a brief disclaimer. Vanessa is not a licensed psychologist or psychiatrist, but she's done a lot of research for the show. German physician Dr. Anton Diehlbrook was the first to classify pathological lying as a disorder, labeling it pseudologia fantastica. He used it to describe patients who blended lies with delusions for no apparent gain aside from the pleasure of telling the lie. According to the National Institutes of Health, a delusion is, a belief that is clearly false and that indicates an abnormality in the affected person's content of thought.

The most important distinction between a lie and a delusion is whether the person telling the falsehood believes it to be true. When confronted, someone who's merely lying will often change their story if it benefits them. Someone who is delusional will cling to their original story. Most kids do create fantasies or fantastic stories of some sort. It's considered part of a child's normal development to use their imaginations as part of healthy play. True. But according to the Journal of the American Academy of Psychiatry and the Law, it's important to distinguish between the fantasy lying that children do and pathological lying. Dorothea's use of fantasy at this age was an important aspect of self-development and self-protection.

But when this type of lying continues into adulthood, it's considered pathological and problematic. The ease and frequency with which she told these lies troubled the adults in her life who were paying attention. However, her mother either didn't notice or didn't care, and Dorothea didn't get any meaningful early intervention. By 1935, six-year-old Dorothea and her siblings rarely even saw Trudy. With her husband incapacitated, she would sometimes disappear for days, locking Dorothea and her brother in a closet while she was gone. The children were often unsupervised while she was gone. Trudy spent time in jail for public intoxication. Trudy, leaving her children for days at a time, would certainly qualify as neglect,

and there's evidence that she emotionally abused them regularly. A joint study by Kings and University colleges in London found childhood emotional abuse to be the main predictor of later mental health problems. We don't know where the rest of Dorothea's siblings were at this time, or why Trudy only singled out Dorothea and one of her brothers for this true. But we do know that eventually some of the children moved in with family or neighbors. There's no record of which children, aside from Dorothea, remained at home. In February 1937, when Dorothea was eight, she and her remaining siblings moved to Los Angeles with their parents.

A month after they arrived, Jesse died in the hospital of complications from his tuberculosis. Immediately after Jesse's death, Trudy transplanted the fragmented family to San Demas, California. San Demas, California. Finally, Dorothea went to a school where her teachers noticed how brutally Trudy treated her children. In early 1938, Trudy lost custody of the children, and nine-year-old Dorothea was placed in an orphanage. By the end of the year, Dorothea had her siblings found themselves true orphans when Trudy died in a motorcycle accident.

Dorothea bounced around between relatives and foster homes for the next seven years. In the summer of 1945, 16-year-old Dorothea ended up in Olympia, Washington. World War II was ending, and Dorothea was now going by the name Sherry. She may have been trying to create a completely new identity, or she may have adopted the name as part of her new job as a sex worker. Sex work not only provided Dorothea with more income than she was able to make at her part-time job at the local milkshake parlor, it also gave her license to invent any story she wanted to about who she was and where she was from. After a lifetime of not being in charge of where she lived or who could tell her what to do,

Dorothea finally had authority over her own story. Later that summer, Dorothea met 22-year-old Fred McFall, a newly returned soldier who lived in the motel in which she conducted her business. Fred was captivated by Dorothea and wasn't bothered by her job as a sex worker. He admired her tenacity and survival skills, later saying she knew how to make a buck when she wanted to. The relationship progressed quickly. In November 1945, 16-year-old Dorothea married Fred in Reno, Nevada, signing the marriage certificate as 30-year-old Sherialla A. Resil. Fred shrugged off the lies.

He seemed to appreciate his new wife's ability to convince people that she was anyone from an actress to part of the royal family. Dorothy's personality made them popular at the local bar in their new hometown in remote Gardnerville, Nevada. It was during this time that she followed in her parents' footsteps, and her drinking habit began in earnest. It's a commonly held belief that alcohol use disorder is almost always genetically inherited, but according to the National Institute of Alcohol Abuse and Alcoholism, genes are only responsible for about half the risk of AUD. Other risk factors include growing up with parents struggling with psychological problems, like Dorothea's father's long-term depression, and they cite children enduring conflicts at home that lead to aggression and violence in the family

as another warning sign. Dorothea's mother's frequent abuse and her parents' perpetual fighting definitely put Dorothea at increased risk for AUD. Something else, Dorothea may have inherited from her mother, was an aversion to parenthood. In 1946, when Dorothea was 17, she gave birth to a daughter. The infant was immediately sent to live with Fred's mother in Sacramento. The following year, 18-year-old Dorothea gave up her second daughter for adoption.

There's no record of what Fred McFal thought about sending his newborn daughters away, but shortly after their second daughter was adopted, Dorothea moved to Los Angeles. About a month later, in the fall of 1947, she returned to Fred in Gardnerville and soon suffered a miscarriage. Dorothea would later claim to have also had twin girls, who ultimately died by suicide. But there is no evidence that this is true. In any case, Fred had finally had enough. He left Dorothea in early 1948, and they eventually divorced.

Humiliated that Fred ended their relationship. Dorothea would tell people for the rest of her life that her first husband died during their short marriage, even though Fred was still alive and well. Once again on her own, Dorothea returned to California and settled in San Bernardino. She bounced between jobs and lived a rather transient lifestyle. In the spring of 1948,

19-year-old Dorothea used fraudulent checks to purchase some clothes. She returned the next day and picked out several pairs of shoes. At the register, she wrote a check from an account in the name of Sherialla Aresil, the alias from her marriage certificate to Fred McFall. Something in Dorothea's nervous manner made the store manager suspicious, and he rejected her bogus check. Knowing she was in over her head, Dorothea bolted out of the store and hopped on a bus to Ontario, California, just down the freeway from San Bernardino.

She was arrested shortly after she arrived. Dorothea was convicted of trying to pass a check under a false name and was sentenced to a year in county jail. Not only was this Dorothea's first conviction, but it was also the first time she was seen by a mental health professional. After speaking with Dorothea, her court-appointed psychiatrist determined that she had a compelling need to buy clothes and re-establish her own self-esteem.

He may have been referring to Dorothea's recent divorce, which embarrassed and frustrated her, the psychiatrist went on to advise the court that Dorothea was a situational offender, not a true criminal. He believed she would only commit crimes if she saw an opportunity with a low likelihood of being caught. In other words, he didn't expect she would ever commit more than petty crimes at best. Dorothea's ability to keep her head down resulted in her early release from jail. After serving only four months of her one-year sentence, Dorothea moved to San Francisco, where she was required to check in with a probation officer.

But six months later, in May 1950, 21-year-old Dorothea vanished. Her probation officer finally reported her disappearance to the court, and an arrest warrant was issued. Eventually, the police stopped looking for her. Her remaining family assumed she was dead. But Dorothea was still alive and well in California, and once she realized how easy it was to slip through the cracks in the truck, justice system, she took her first step on the path to murder.

We'll return to our story in just a moment from the podcast network. And now let's continue the story. In May 1950, 21-year-old Dorothea Puente was living in San Francisco after serving four months in jail for check fraud. She returned to sex work as a way to support herself while she figured out what was next. Two years later, in 1952, Dorothea went by the name Tea Singuala Nayarda. When the 23-year-old met a merchant seaman named Axel Johansson, she told him she was Muslim and of Egyptian and Israeli descent.

The two married that same year and moved to Sacramento. Just like Dorothea's first husband, Axel seemed content to not ask his wife too many questions and just enjoy her company. As a merchant seaman, he was at sea for months at a time. And Dorothea could live however she pleased while he was going. But the way she was living became apparent to Axel. He was confronted by angry neighbors asking that he'd do something about the men arriving to visit Dorothea at all hours of the night. Axel may have had his suspicions about what his wife was doing during his long absences,

but it's unclear exactly how much he knew. Dorothea's work continued, and it began to take a toll on their marriage. She took off for Los Angeles for weeks at a time, not telling Axel she was going or when she'd be back. that began to argue loudly and frequently, just like she had with their first husband, Fred, and just like her parents did before they died. Psychiatrist Bessel van der Koke believes that people who were traumatized as children are sometimes compulsively drawn to similar situations for the rest of their lives.

According to Dr. Vanderkoke, clinically these people are observed to have a vague sense of apprehension, emptiness, boredom and anxiety when not involved. in activities reminiscent of the trauma. So Dorothea may have actually been drawn to these men because of the potential for conflict with them. In any case, the couple seemed to settle into a period of domesticity, acceptable to both of them for the rest of the 1950s.

There's no record of any separations during this time, and Dorothea stayed out of jail. But as the decade came to a close, that would soon change. By 1960, Dorothea was no longer the potential. petite, vivacious young girl she'd been when she started out as a sex worker in Washington State. Now 31, and much heavier than she'd ever been, it became more and more difficult for her to get clients. So, the always enterprising Dorothea shifted into working as a madam. Dorothea secured a rental property in Sacramento and told the landlord she was starting a bookkeeping service.

Her new business ran for several months until the landlord became suspicious of all the foot traffic and called the police. The Sacramento police staked out Dorothea's Fulton Avenue bookkeeping business. Although they observed a large, exclusively male clientele going in and out of the building, the business seemed quiet and closed at exactly 5.30. After several days, they went in undercover. Posing as truck drivers, the two police officers called Dorothea, who was using the name Taya Johansson and set up an appointment.

Before they arrived, they coated both their money and their hands in a special fluorescent powder. After Dorothea accepted the marked money, and the deputies had left fluorescent handprints on both Dorothea and one of her girls, the deputies revealed themselves. Dorothea was arrested again. With this arrest, Dorothea would begin a lifelong habit of quickly plea bargaining in order to obtain a lighter sentence. By agreeing to plead guilty to simply being in a house of ill-repearl. pute, she avoided charges of pimping and pandering. The judge didn't believe her when she told him she was only at the property to visit a friend. He sentenced her to 90 days in county jail.

Dorothea's husband Axel was furious when he found out that she'd been arrested. But despite the fact that his wife had lied to him and gone to jail, Axel allowed her to return to their home in Sacramento. But in 1961, when Dorothea was 32, her husband had her committed to DeWitt State Hospital, a psychiatric institution in Stockton, California. Dorothea's records from DeWitt describe her as very obese, infantile, and a pathological liar. Her doctor listed her as having an unstable personality and said her prognosis was guarded.

It's unlikely Dorothea received any psychological counseling, but she was prescribed an antipsychotic for the first time. At the time, Clozapine was the primary antipsychotic, prescribed. Although it was used to sedate and control many patients, it also seemed most effective with patients diagnosed with schizophrenia. Schizophrenia often becomes symptomatic in women in their late teens. Symptoms include delusions and thought disorders, as well as the kind of flat affectations that Dorothea would exhibit in courtrooms and interviews later in life. However, there's no record of a diagnosis from her time at the facility. We don't know whether the antipsychotic medication stabilized Dorothea or if she simply convinced the doctors that there was no reason to keep her.

Either way, they soon released her and she returned home to Axel. Dorothea and Axel moved across the river to Broderick, California. Dorothea did manage to hold down a series of jobs, but she spent all of her money on clothes and shoes, and she continued drinking and staying out late. She wasn't going to change. So Axel Johansson divorced 36-year-old Dorothea in 1966. As Dorothea's second marriage ended, she also closed the door on any association with sex work.

It was too much risk for too little gain, and the operation was difficult to camouflage. Instead, Dorothea decided to open a boarding house. In 1968, when Dorothea was 39, she again settled in Sacramento. She quickly realized that there was an untapped population of a house. alcoholics, senior citizens, and chronically ill people who were in need of care. And more importantly, they received government money, so she opened her first boarding house as an unlicensed health care facility called The Samaritans. She made every resident sign over their assistance checks directly to her.

She claimed that this was to protect the residents from irresponsibly spending their money. She didn't tell them that she'd also be taking money for herself on top of their rent. She also maintained complete control over storing and dispensing meds. Dorothea got to work ingratiating herself with the community by befriending children in the neighborhood and providing them with treats or small necessities their families couldn't afford. But even though she seemed happy, Dorothea began to drink alone every night and her weight continued to climb.

Dorothea's appearance meant everything to her, so the weight gain had an emotional impact. Perhaps seeking confirmation that she was still attractive and desirable, she began using the Spanish she learned as a child to court young Hispanic men in the neighborhood. Given how quick Dorothea had always been to head to the altar, it's no surprise that shortly after meeting him, 39-year-old Dorothea, married her third husband, 21-year-old Roberto Puente. There were whispers on the street that Roberto Puente was a con man looking for a green card. Some of the girls in the neighborhood giggled to each other about Mr. Gigolo when they saw Dorothea with her new husband. Whether this was true or not, the marriage was tumultuous from the beginning,

and Roberto left her after only two short weeks of marriage. Dorothea officially filed for divorce from Roberto Puente on July 5, 1969, just over 16 months after they first met. Deeply in debt, 40-year-old Dorothea also filed for bankruptcy. and closed the Samaritans for good. She was ready to move on to bigger things. As the 1970s were about to begin, newly divorced Dorothea

leased a 16-bedroom Victorian house in Sacramento to transform into a boarding house far beyond what she had attempted with the Samaritans. Each bedroom contained its own bathroom and Dorothea outfitted the rooms with a single bed and television. With her own quarters on the third floor, she designated the first level for higher-income boarders who received federal assistance

and reserved the basement for those receiving county assistance. The basement was filled with beds separated only by curtains. The second level included the main kitchen and common area. She hired grounds crew and two permanent cooks. Dorothea also established friendly relationships with social workers for the first time. She even went so far as to invite any of them, who referred clients to the boarding house, to lavish catered parties. This time, Dorothea would make sure

the social workers were on her side from the beginning. Because Dorothea only took clients who didn't require specific medical or psychological treatment, she wasn't required to have a license to operate. Dorothea was proficient in navigating the social security system on behalf of her clients and personally ensured they took their medication. She also accepted problem drinkers,

whether they were sober or not, which made her a rare and valuable resource for social workers. Once a month, a doctor stopped by the boarding house to check on borders' health and review their meds. As the doctor worked in the kitchen, Dorothea never left his side. She paid careful attention while he worked, often taking notes. She set up office space in the boarding house where she hung fraudulent medical diplomas and stored medical equipment like syringes and blood pressure cuffs. As she had at the Samaritans, Dorothea mostly formed relationships in the Hispanic community.

In the mid-1970s, she got involved in politics, often attending fundraisers where she sponsored an entire table. At one of these events, she danced with California Governor Jerry Brown. A picture of the two of them on the dance floor held a place of honor in her living room, and she showed it to every new person who walked in the door. Still meticulous about her hair, makeup, and wardrobe, Dorothea spent many evenings from 1976 to 1977 at the local bars, entertaining newly found friends with stories about when she was a rockette or when she won $10,000 on an NBC game show.

As always, none of her stories were true, but nobody seemed to care. Dorothea spent as lavishly at the bar as she did in the neighborhood, But not even her boarders realized most of the money she was spending was theirs. The number of borders Dorothea had at one time varied, but with each border receiving between $200 and $300 a month, there was plenty left over for Dorothea after she took care of their basic needs. The money she skimmed paid for her expensive shoes, perfumes, and makeup. It also paid for the weight loss surgery she elected to have

after her weight topped 200 pounds. Dorothea was spending her borders money as fast as it came in, but as long as she ran a clean house and kept her borders in line, social services seemed content to stay out of her operation. It was the perfect time for Dorothea to fall in love again. Pedro Montalvo began working for Dorothea as a groundskeeper in 1974 and moved in not long after. But Dorothea didn't really pay much attention to her hyperactive, high-strung border

until almost a year later. In 1975, Dorothea began to invite him to her private quarters on the third floor and often took him out drinking. At 45, she was almost 10 years as senior, but Pedro enjoyed spending time with his landlady, who told him she was a doctor in her native Mexico and owned property there.

To outsiders, the couple made no sense. Dorothea was generally reserved and responsible, which contrasted heavily with Pedro's high-strung nervousness. Despite their differences, on August 28, 1976, 46-year-old Dorothea, married Pedro Montalvo. He was her fourth and final husband. As had happened with her previous marriages, Dorothea and her new husband constantly argued. It became apparent to Pedro that Dorothea was far from the wealthy doctor she claimed to be. He even suspected she was stealing to support her lavish lifestyle. Rather than share his suspicions with anyone of authority, Pedro

simply walked out after less than a month. The marriage was annulled a few months later, and Dorothea reverted back to her third husband's surname, Puente. For the next two years, it was business as usual at the boarding house. While Dorothea continued her charitable work, there were rumors she was doing black market medical treatments in her little office. She was still helping the low-income families in the neighborhood, with money she was stealing from her low-income tenants. Finally, in 1978, 49-year-old Dorothea's deception caught up with her again. When a tenant who was serving jail time complained that his Social Security check had been cashed with a forged signature after he was arrested, the Treasury Department launched an investigation. They discovered 34 more checks

written to Dorothea's borders that were cashed with fraudulent signatures. They all appeared to signed by the same person, Dorothea Puente. When she was questioned by the Treasury Department, Dorothea explained she had gone to the jail to have her tenant sign his check. She said, quote, the guards were standing right there while he signed the check over to me. End quote. It was a bold lie, but Dorothea committed to her story. There's no diagnosis in the DSM that's specific to pathological lying. Rather, pathological lying is included as a symptom of many larger psychological. disorders, including antisocial and narcissistic personality disorders.

Since Dr. Dealbrook first coined the term pseudologia fantastica to describe morbid lying in the first half of the 20th century, mental health professionals have debated whether it's worthy of its own classification. In any case, the courts wouldn't have to make that decision. The Treasury Department found forgeries totaling more than $4,000 enough to warrant felony charges. Rather than go a trial, Dorothea pleaded guilty to federal forgery. She was sentenced to five years parole, ordered to undergo psychiatric counseling, and was forced to give up the boarding house at 21st and F. But she stuck to her story that she had consent to cash all the checks. It was during her first round of court-ordered psychiatric counseling that Dr. Thomas

Dutie would first diagnose her as schizophrenic, chronic, undifferentiated type, meaning that Dr. Judy observed behaviors in Dorothea that applied to at least two types of schizophrenia. Dorothea certainly displayed the feelings of persecution and hostility that come with paranoid schizophrenia. She also regularly exhibited delusional behavior with her outlandish tales of wealth and celebrity. Because those delusions seem to come and go, Dr. Doody may have believed she had residual schizophrenia, meaning she had previously had a schizophrenic episode but was now in remission. Dr. Dutie didn't believe Dorothea posed a threat to anyone, and she wasn't required to have surprise in-home visits in addition to her psychiatric and parole meetings. So, Dorothea was permitted to leave Sacramento for Stockton in 1978, as long as she kept her appointments.

She drifted in and out of menial jobs that didn't produce much income. At one point, she forged another Treasury Department check, but she immediately paid restitution and no additional charges were filed. and within six months, she figured out a way to get back in business. In mid-1979, Dorothea returned to Sacramento with a new plan. Rather than be responsible for running an entire house full of sick and troubled people, she would become a home health care aide. To prepare for her new role, Dorothea adopted more of a kindly old lady persona. Smaller and more frail looking after her weight loss surgery,

She started wearing large glasses, let her hair go white, and told people she was anywhere from 60 to 65 years old, rather than her actual age of 50. Ricardo Odorica believed he had found a new grandmother figure for his two young daughters when he rented Dorothea the second floor of his home. Ricardo and his wife Veronica looked forward to having such a nice Spanish-speaking woman with medical training right upstairs. As Dorothea got to work fixing up the long-neglected

second floor of 1426 F Street. She seamlessly integrated into the Odorica family. They spent every holiday together, and Ricardo asked her to be godmother to one of the girls at her first communion. They trusted her implicitly. Meanwhile, Dorothea got to work as a caretaker for hire with several health care companies that never questioned her resume or required a background check. Clients would sometimes insist that Dorothea was stealing small items from their homes, But Dorothea was able to explain it away as senior citizen memory loss. Social workers and law enforcement didn't see any reason to investigate Dorothea, and she took this as an opportunity to get even more bold.

Her petty crimes would soon take a fatal turn for her clients. We'll return to our story in just a moment. Ryan Reynolds here from MintMobil. I don't know if you knew this, but anyone can get the same premium wireless for $15 a month plan that I've been enjoying. It's not just for celebrities, so do like I did and have one of your assistants assistants to switch you to MintMobile today. I'm told it's super easy to do at mintmobile.com slash switch. Up front payment of $45 for three-month plan equivalent to $15 per month required.

Intro rate first three months only, then full price plan options available. Taxes and fees extra. See full terms at mintmobile.com. And now, back to the story. Toward the end of 1979, 50-year-old Dorothy Applante started providing providing live-in care for Esther Busby. Shortly after Dorothea moved in, Esther started regularly being rushed to Sutter General by ambulance. Esther was in her 70s, but her heart condition had been stable for some time. Yet now, she often suffered an irregular heartbeat

or had difficulty breathing. Several times, Esther relapsed while still in the hospital. Adult Protective Services social worker Mildred Ballinger was the first to notice that these relapses seemed to happen shortly after Dorothea visited. Mildred shared her suspicions with Esther's attending physician, Dr. Lackner. Initially, Dr. Lackner was dismissive of Mildred's concerns. But the more Dr. Lackner thought about it, the more he realized that if Dorothea kept Esther just sick enough, she'd have access to her possessions, and more importantly, her social security checks. He decided to do a home visit. showed him around Esther's spotless house and assured him Esther was taking her medications

as directed. Esther chimed in about how helpful it was to have Dorothea there. Dr. Lackner left, still suspicious of Dorothea. His visit must have made Dorothea suspicious of him as well, because the next time Esther needed emergency care, Dorothea made sure she was taken to another hospital farther away. But a colleague at the other hospital called Dr. Lackner to consult about Esther to Lacher's latest visit, and Dr. Lackner advised him to run a toxicology screen. When the test results came back, they revealed phenobarbital, a seizure medication that also acts as a sedative, which Esther hadn't been prescribed.

The tests also showed the heart medication dejoxin, which can trigger fatal heart arrhythmias if taken improperly. Although she was a heart patient, Esther didn't take dejoxin, but Dorothea took it for her own heart condition and had it on hand. Dr. Lackner told Esther, he believed Dorothea was poisoning her, and Esther fired Dorothea immediately. Social worker Mildred Ballinger wasn't content to sit back and let Dorothea walk away unscathed. In early 1980, Mildred contacted police to alert them that she suspected 51-year-old Dorothea had poisoned Esther Busby. But since she didn't have solid proof, no investigation was launched.

Mildred vowed to keep an eye on Dorothea as long as she was working with senior citizens. But for now, Dorothea seemed safe from prosecution. In January, 1982, 53-year-old Dorothea turned up at a local dive bar, the zebra club, where she started drinking with 74-year-old Malcolm McKenzie. The two hit it off, and Dorothea kept Malcolm laughing and entertained with her, outlandish stories. With last call looming, Malcolm hinted to Dorothea that they should keep the party going at his apartment, just a few blocks away. Dorothya coyly smiled and told Malcolm she'd love to see his apartment. They hailed a cab. By the time they arrived at Malcolm's house, he started feeling

strange. For some reason, his arms and legs didn't want to cooperate with his brain. Dorothya helped him inside and laid him on the couch. Malcolm realized that even though he was fully alert and aware, he couldn't move his body at all. He watched helplessly as Dorothea began to search his apartment. As Malcolm lay on the couch, unable to move a muscle, Dorothea discovered a small red suitcase inside a closet. Snapping it open, she began neatly filling it with Malcolm's possessions, including some collectible coins, cash, and his checkbook. Right before she left, Dorothea tugged the pinky ring off his finger. Two days later, Dorothea was arrested after trying to use two checks from Malcolm's account.

She insisted Malcolm had willingly given them to her. As she was being booked, she told police she was 72, even though her records showed her as 53. When they were unmoved by her harmless old lady persona, Dorothea changed tactics. She explained, I've got a psychiatric condition. I sometimes forget my actions. Whether they believed her or not, she was charged with drugging and robbing Malcolm McKenzie. She was released with her preliminary hearing

set for three months later in April. In the meantime, Dorothea had work to do. It wasn't long after her arrest that Dorothea started a new business, this time with a partner. 61-year-old Ruth Monroe and her husband, Harold, frequently drank with Dorothea at a local bar. They got along well,

And Dorothea was sympathetic when Harold was diagnosed with terminal cancer. So Dorothea proposed that she and Ruth started catering business together. Ruth agreed and deposited several thousand dollars into the joint account. Dorothea insisted they open. When Ruth's husband Harold took a turn for the worst and went into the hospital for what was likely the last time, Dorothea suggested that Ruth move in with her to save money and keep each other company. Ruth agreed. and on April 11, 1982, her three sons helped her move into the second floor of the Odurika's house with Dorothea.

On April 24th, less than two weeks after moving in with Dorothea, Ruth had lunch with an old friend. Her friend was shocked at how disoriented and run down Ruth appeared to be. She had seemed fine only a week before at her standing here appointment. When her friend asked if she was okay, Ruth sadly said, I can't talk to you. I think I'm going to die. Ruth's friend tried to get Ruth to go see a doctor, but she refused. Her friend didn't insist, and they parted ways, expecting to see each other the following week at the hair salon. Ruth went home, and Dorothea made her a crem-de-menth cocktail to help her feel better.

They relaxed in the living room before Ruth finally went to bed, exhausted. Ruth spoke to her son, Allen, the next day, and seemed her usual self. She asked about her grandchildren and caught up on family news. Ruth never mentioned that she felt ill. Two days later, on April 27th, Ruth's daughter, Rosie, stopped by to visit. After finding Ruth sleeping deeply in the middle of the day, Rosie confronted Dorothea. Her mother never slept this deeply, and certainly not during the day. What, she demanded, was wrong with her.

Dorothea comforted Rosie and reassured her, everything was fine. She told Rosie she'd taken Ruth to the emergency room because she was worried Ruth might be having a stress-induced nervous breakdown. Dorothea explained that there was nothing really wrong with Ruth. She just needed to calm her anxiety. The doctor had given her a shot to help her rest. Rosie liked Dorothea and appreciated that her mother had a friend looking out for her, while her stepfather, Harold, was dying in the hospital.

So she believed Dorothea's assurances and left without a second thought. We began the podcast with a description of Bill's disturbing last visit with his mother later that night. When Bill came back downstairs after seeing Ruth, Dorothea assured him she'd look out for her. He told Dorothea he'd be back the next day. At 5.30 a.m. on April 28, 1982, Ruth's daughter's phone rang. It was Dorothea. Something's wrong with your mother, she advised. You better come over. Rosie called her siblings and raced to Dorothea's home. Dorothy met her at the door, sobbing. Your mother died, she wailed.

Rosie was devastated, but she believed Dorothea's initial explanation that Ruth had been despondent. Perhaps, Dorothea suggested, Ruth had taken a little too much of her medication. As the coroner's office arrived, Ruth's children nodded numbly through his explanation that an autopsy was necessary because the death had been unattended. He also mentioned that Dorothea had subtly suggested that Ruth may have taken. taken her own life. Ruth's children didn't fully believe that their mother would have even considered suicide, but they in no way suspected anything criminal about Ruth's death. However, Rosie's

husband John had a different opinion. He didn't buy Dorothea's Karen grandmother act. He believed she ought to be investigated for murdering Ruth Monroe, and he intended to see that she was. The coroner's office completed Ruth's autopsy in May 1982. The talk screen revealed Tylenol and coding in Ruth's system in amounts sufficient enough to be fatal. Neither drug was found in Ruth's bedroom. Although the remains of the crem-de-menth cocktail Dorothea made for Ruth were still in her stomach when the autopsy was performed, the coroner's office found no evidence of foul play. She appeared to be healthy overall.

With no clinical evidence to the coroner's case, contrary, Ruth's death was ruled as being of indeterminate cause, meaning there was no reason to suspect homicide. Suicide was a possibility, but there was no evidence to suggest that anyone had intentionally killed Ruth Monroe. Ruth's children, still reeling from their mother's death, got together to try and make sense of what had happened. Finally, Rosie's husband, John, voiced his suspicions. There was something off about Dorothea. Maybe she had done something to Ruth. After some discussion, they decided to do some digging. Ruth's family discovered that Dorothea never took Ruth to the emergency room, like she said she had.

And no medical personnel had ever come to the house until after Ruth was dead. Armed with this new information, John went to the police. Confronted with the evidence they gathered, the Sacramento PD took the family's statements, but ultimately decided that their evidence was too circumstantial to pursue it any further. Ruth's family was devastated. There would be no justice for their matriarch. Meanwhile, Dorothea appeared at her preliminary hearing to face charges that she drugged and robbed Malcolm McKenzie.

After her arrest, it didn't take police long to find three more victims Dorothea had drugged than robbed. But none of them were either willing or well enough to testify in court. Without testimony, Dorothea would walk. Fortunately, Malcolm McKenzie was up to the task. After hearing Malcolm's story about his night with Dorothea, the judge ruled that the case would go to trial. Dorothea was released on her own recognizance,

agreeing to appear at her next scheduled court date. With the threat of prison looming, Dorothea quickly drained the rest of the money in the joint account she and Ruth had opened together. Dorothea knew that after she bought a plane ticket to Mexico, what was left of the roughly $1,500, she withdrew wouldn't last long. She quickly put together a plan to get more money before she fled the country. On May 16, 1982, she called her friend Dorothy Osborne and begged her to come over.

Dorothea slurred on the phone, quote, I'm drunk. Everybody's taking advantage of me and things haven't been going well. A woman died, end quote. While sympathetic to her friend, Osborne told Dorothea, she didn't want to go out. She finally agreed that Dorothea could come over. And when Osborne opened the door to let her in around 11 a.m., she was surprised that Dorothea had brought both brandy and vodka with her. Dorothya explained, I'll make some drinks and we can talk. The two women settled in on the couch. Dorothea sipped vodka, while Osborne choked down the peculiar cocktail Dorothea mixed for her. A combination of several juices, brandy, and vodka, The brownish concoctions stung going down.

Osborne switched to iced tea after she finished it to try to get the taste out of her mouth. Dorothea seemed to barely notice as she sat opposite Osborne, ranting about how poorly she was being treated lately. It was the last thing Osborne remembered before she completely lost consciousness. When Osborne came to, the sun was setting and Dorothea was gone. Osborne, still groggy, got up off the couch.

As she cleaned up the living room, she noticed some missing items, her checkbook, credit cards, and several rolls of pennies with her name and phone number on them. Still trying to piece together what Dorothea may have done while she was incapacitated, Osborne staggered into the kitchen. As she noticed the blender that still contained remnants of the foul mixed drink Dorothea prepared that morning, Osborne realized that her friend may have drugged her. The white powder she found on the counter next to the blender, confirmed her suspicions. She carefully bagged up the powder and poured the remaining liquid into a

prescription bottle. Then she called the police. Three days later, 53-year-old Dorothea was arrested again. When the police caught up to her on May 19, 1982, she was carrying a plane ticket to Mexico, Osborne's credit cards, and the penny rolls with Osborne's name on them. Because she was arrested while on bail, and clearly planning to leave her, the country. She was denied bail on the new charges. She would stay in jail until her trial. Dorothea directed her lawyers to begin working on a plea bargain. After weeks of Dorothea and her lawyer negotiating the best possible deal with the district attorney's office, she pled guilty in four of the cases in which she drugged and robbed senior citizens, including Malcolm McKenzie and Dorothy Osborne.

She was sentenced to five years in prison, just over a year for each of the victim. After processing, Dorothea was sent by bus to the California Institution for Women in Frontera. On August 20, 1982, Ruth Monroe's son Bill picked up the previous day's Sacramento B. He was shocked to see his mother's former roommate's name splashed on the front page. He wasn't as surprised to read the headline, quote, Woman who slipped Mickey's draws five years. He immediately called his siblings. siblings. After some discussion, Bill called the district attorney's office and voiced their

suspicions. The district attorney met with Ruth's children, who outlined how their mother's health had declined so rapidly. They recounted all the evidence they had collected that proved Dorothea had lied about the circumstances surrounding Ruth's death. The DA referred the case to major crimes. Ruth's children finally had a glimmer of hope that Dorothea would be prosecuted for murdering their mother. But that hope was short-lived. After further investigation and a review of the witness statements and autopsy results, the major crimes investigator filed his findings. In light of her divorce and her second husband's terminal illness, he believed that Ruth wasn't Dorothea's victim, but that she died by suicide. There would be no murder

charges. The investigator attempted to console Ruth's distraught children with the fact that Dorothea was already in prison. So even if she had hurt Ruth, at least she couldn't hurt anyone else. It was a decision that would come back to haunt both the major crimes unit and the district attorney's office. Because when Dorothea was paroled just three years later, she would begin a murder spree to fund her increasingly lavish lifestyle.

It would end in a multi-state manhunt. Thanks again for tuning in to female criminals and serial killers, join us next time as we continue to explore the life, mind, and crimes of Sacramento serial killer Dorothea Puente. Remember, part two is available right now. Add free on the female criminals feed. You can find female criminals and all of podcast podcasts on Apple Podcasts, Stitcher, Google Play, cast box, tune in, or your favorite podcast directory.

Everyone always asks how to help the podcasts, and if you enjoy them, the best way to help is to leave a five-star review. We'll see you next time. Have a killer week. Female criminals and serial killers were created by Max Cutler, are a production of Cutler Media and are part of the Parcast Network. They're produced by Max and Ron Cutler, sound designed by Ron Shapiro, with production assistants by Paul Mahler,

additional production assistance by Maggie Admeyer and Carly Madden. This episode was written by Nicole Simmons and stars, Vanessa Richardson, Sammy Nye, and Greg Poulson. Want to hear something spooky. Some Monster, it reminded me of Bigfoot. Monsters Among Us is a weekly podcast featuring true stories of the paranormal. One of the boys started to exhibit demonic possession. Stories straight from the witnesses' mouths themselves.

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