Murder In America - EP. 41 NEW YORK - The SON of SAM, New York's Most Notorious SERIAL KILLER (Pt. 1 - The MURDERS)

Episode Date: November 8, 2021

In New York City, no more name has ever been more feared than the SON OF SAM. In the late 1970's, a violent string of random murders terrorized the city, murders perpetrated by a disturbed individual with demons in his heart. This, is the true story, of the BRUTAL Son of Sam murders. And you're listening, to MURDER IN AMERICA. - Get some fresh new socks AND help clothe those in need by purchasing a Christmas gift for your loved one from BOMBAS!!: https://bombas.com/pages/MIA - Create a GIFT from the cherished memories of your loved ones with STORYWORTH!!: storyworth.com/MIA - Get your loved one a pair of RAYCON EARBUDS for Christmas!! And don't forget to use our special code to get a discount on your purchase!!: buyraycon.com/STATE - Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

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and offenses against children. This podcast is not for everyone. You have been warned. In 1976, New York City earned the ominous nickname, Fear City, after years of violence and bloodshed. There were hundreds of murders occurring every year in the late 70s, many of which would remain unsolved. Some of these murders, like the two we covered in our episode last week, are still unsolved to this very day.

But in the summer of 1976, two girls would be gunned down in their vehicle by an unknown assailant using a rare 44-caliber revolver, and the killings would not stop there. For over a year, young people from around New York City would come. Come face to face with a man referred to as the 44 caliber killer, or as you may know him, the son of Sam. Many of these people would lose their lives, but luckily this case was solved, and it would go on to be one of the most notorious murder sprees

in New York City's history. This serial killer was methodical. He would taunt the newspapers and police officials in the city, giving himself nicknames like the Duke of Death, the Wicked King Wicker. John Wheaties, rapist and suffocator of young girls, and of course, the son of Sam. This killer was allegedly driven to kill by none other than Satan himself. And while this murder spree was classified as solved decades ago by the New York City Police Department,

by the end of our story, we'll have you asking, was it really solved? Or could more sons of Sam still be out there in the city? This is the story of the 44 caliber killer, the son of Sam. I'm Courtney Shannon. And I'm Colin Brown. And you're listening to Murder in America. Story starts on July 29, 1976, in an apartment complex in the Bronx, New York. Outside in the parking lot sat 19-year-old Jody Valenti and 18-year-old Donna Lauria.

It was about 1 a.m. and the girls had just gotten back from a disco party, like the true 1970s. And while they were sitting in Jody's 1975 Oldsmobile talking about their night, they noticed Donna's parents pull into the parking lot. They too lived in the complex, and when they saw Donna, they told her that she needed to hurry and come back inside because she had worked the next morning. Donna tells her parents, okay, okay, just give me a few more minutes. And just before her parents start making their way up the apartment stairs, they notice a car in the background.

It's a yellow, compact-sized car that's parked about 20 yards behind Jody's Oldsmobile. Normally, that wouldn't raise any red flags, but something about the lone man that sat in the driver's seat didn't sit right with Donna's father. But again, Donna was 18, and she just told them that she would be right up, so they go inside. Donna was a very beautiful girl with medium-length brown hair and light brown eyes. She had just recently started a job as a technician for an ambulance service, and she was really excited. She had just reached adulthood and she had her whole life ahead of her. One thing that everybody said about Donna was that she was a very likable girl. She had a lot of friends,

boys loved her and people were really drawn to her, including Jody Valente, who had been her good friend for years. The two would sit in Jody's car for a few more minutes and at about 1.10 a.m., Donna decides that she should head inside. She tells Jody goodbye, and as she goes to open the passenger side door, she sees something. It's a man holding a brown paper bag standing about eight feet away from Jody's car. Donna is very caught off guard and says, now what is this? But those would be her very last words. Because suddenly, the man takes a gun out of the brown paper bag, slightly crouches down, puts both hands on the weapon, and fires three shots, shattering the passenger's side window. Donna puts her right arm in the air trying to protect

herself from the flying bullets, but one of them hits her elbow. The bullet travels through her arm and into her back. Jody watches in horror as her friend falls to the pavement, And then she sees the mystery man run out of the apartment complex into the dark of night. Jody starts to scream and honk her horn. When she looks down at her thigh, she realizes that she too has been hit by a bullet. With the shooter now gone, Jody crawls out of her car and screams for help. Donna's mother, who was upstairs in the kitchen of her apartment, hears the commotion going on outside and looks out of the window to see Jody in hysterics

and her daughter slumped over and bloody on the pavement. She and her husband run outside to their daughter's aid, but it's too late. Donna Lauria was instantly killed that July night when the 44 caliber bullet entered her back. Jody Valente was wounded and traumatized from what she had just experienced. Jody was able to give a description of the man in question. He was a white male in his 30s, around 5'9, 160 pounds with curly dark hair, moderately styled. He was clean-shaven with a light complexion, and he was wearing a blue polo shirt with white stripes and dark pants. in front of 2860 Buer Avenue in the Baychester section of the Bronx.

18-year-old Donna Laurie was sitting in a car with her friend Jody Valenti in front of Donna's house. Two shots blasted through the car window. Donna was killed instantly. It's important to mention that at this time in New York, crime was at its absolute worst. According to the New York Times in an article by Selwyn Rob, quote, on an average day, 1,798 serious crimes or felonies were committed for a rate of 75 every hour, end quote. In the year 1976, in fact, more felony crimes were committed in New York City than any other recorded year. So the New York Police Department had a lot on their hands.

They were used to random people getting murdered in the streets. But the murder of Donna Loria was different. It was a little more suspicious than other killings. From what they knew, she didn't know her killer. He didn't steal anything from her. He just shot her and left. And with New York's population size, detectives knew that finding her killer would be difficult.

But one thing that stood out was the weapon that the killer used. It was a 44-calibre bulldog revolver. The bullets in these guns are huge, and the gun itself is very rare. The Bulldog was a weapon that wasn't typically used to commit crimes in New York City. Donna's case did get some coverage in the media, but after a few days, other stories were coming in, and eventually people kind of forgot about it. The summer of 1976 eventually came to an end, and Donna's murder remained unsolved.

But detectives had no idea that Donna's killer was lying in wait in the shadows, dormant in the dark. They also had no idea that her killer would strike again, three months later, on October 23, 1976. It was late on a Saturday night at about 1.15 a.m. when 18-year-old Rosemary Keenan, the daughter of a New York detective, was driving around Queens with her friend Carl De Niro. Carl was 20 years old, one week away from joining the Air Force, and Rosemary was a student at Queens College. The two had just left a bar and decided to park their blue Volkswagen in a dark residential area. As soon as Rosemary turned off the engine, she noticed a man jogging by her car, which was strange, as normally people don't go out on a jog at one in the morning. But she and Carl continued their conversation anyway.

For the next five minutes, everything was normal. But then at 1.30 a.m., their conversation was interrupted by the sounds of shattering glass. Rosemary and Carl instinctively ducked down as bullets flew throughout their vehicle. Carl screams, get out of here, get out of here! And Rosemary quickly turns the car on and speeds down. the road. She's in shock at what just happened and instead of driving to a hospital, she drives the two back to the bar where they had just been. Carl and Rosemary stumbled inside and to everyone's horror, Carl is covered in blood. He didn't know it at the time, but one of the 44 caliber bullets

struck him in the head. Both Rosemary and Carl would end up surviving this horrible shooting, but it was a long road of recovery for Carl. He had to spend the next few weeks in the hospital and a steel plate was put inside of his head. No one had gotten a good look at the shooter this time and there were no witnesses so detectives failed to connect this crime with that of donna loria but their cases were eerily similar the victims were young sitting inside of their vehicles late at night and a 44 caliber revolver was used a ballistics test was later conducted on the bullets found at this crime scene to see if the same gun was used in the two shootings but the results came back as inconclusive when it comes to my socks my underwear it all has to be comfortable and bombist

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That's bombus.com slash mIA. Don't forget to use our promo code and go interact with our advertisers so that we can continue making this show. Anyways, y'all, let's get back to today's story. A personal favorite of mine, actually. And tragedy would strike again. This time, just one month later,

on November 27, 1976. It was a cold winter night in New York City, and two friends named Joanne Lamino and Donna Damassi were walking home from a movie theater. Joanne was just 18 years old, still very young living with her parents, but she was maturing and had hoped to get a secretary job in the upcoming year.

Donna Damassi was tall with long, dark hair, and she was just 16 years old, still in high school, but she and Joanne were really good friends. And as the two walked down 262nd Street, they approached Joanne's house. The girls walk up the cement steps that lead to the home, and they stand there for a few minutes,

continuing their conversation. Then suddenly, mid-sentence, Donna's eyes grow wide. When Joanne turns around, she sees a man standing in her yard, about eight feet away from them. And strangely, unlike any of the other shootings, the man starts to speak to the girls in a high-pitched voice, saying, can you tell me how to get... But he never finishes the sentence.

Instead, he pulls out a 44-caliber revolver and begins shooting. One of the bullets hit Joanne's spinal cord, and another one hit her lung. Donna had tried to jump away from the gunfire, but one bullet ended up hitting her in the neck. Somehow, the girls were able to hide behind a bush, but the man kept shooting, firing many rounds into the windows of Joanne's house. Once the gunman was out of bullets, he took off running down the street, right past one of Joanne's neighbors, who was later able to give a description of the shooter. The man was dressed in a green army fatigue jacket. He was about 5'8, 150 to 160 pounds. He had dark brown eyes, and he held the gun in his left hand.

But this shooter had long, straight, dirty blonde hair. Donna would eventually recover from her neck wound, but Joanne would go on to face a lifetime of problems from her injuries. She was struck in the spine and spent most of the year in rehab. learning how to function as a paraplegic. Her life was forever changed by this random act of violence, and detectives were determined to find out who was responsible. It is a middle-class neighborhood, quiet and family-oriented. There's not much crime here, especially violent crime. And this happened late at night, right at the steps of the Lamina

household, just as the girls were about to go inside. All right, the two young girls returned home to their neighborhood, and about 1230 at night. They were saying good night to each other when they observed an unidentified male white, approximately 30 years old. He approached the two girls and attempted to engage him in a conversation. At which time the girls decided there was something wrong with this guy, they wanted to go into the house. And the man all of a sudden started firing. He fired approximately five shots.

After retrieving the bullets fired at the girls, investigators were able to determine that a 44 caliber revolver was used, but they weren't able to confirm the model of the revolver, like they were able to in the previous shootings. And by Christmas of 1976, investigators still had not made any connections in the case. But they did have three composite sketches. One was made from Jody Valenti's account, the survivor of the first shooting. The second was from Donna DeMassie, the 16-year-old from the most recent shooting, and the third from the neighbor that saw the shooter run away. The last two sketches looked, but they did not resemble the man in the first sketch.

The first shooter had dark curly hair, he was a bit heavier with a different shape nose, eyes and mouth than that of the other sketches. And not only were their inconsistent sketches, but the detectives working these cases were in different precincts, making it all the more difficult to find connections. And little did everyone know, another tragedy was just around the corner. It happened on January 29, 1977, to a woman named Christine Freund. Christine was an Australian immigrant whose parents came to the U.S. when she was just five years old. Now, at age 26, Christine was a secretary in the financial district.

A beautiful woman with long, dark hair, and she was recently engaged. Her fiancé's name was John Deal. But the two were keeping their engagement a secret until Valentine's Day came around, which was just around the corner in a few short weeks. And on this cold January night, John would pick up Christine from her house in his blue Pontiac firebird, and the two would make their way to the movie theater to see the film. Rocky. After the movie, the couple spent the evening walking through the snowy streets of New York. They stopped by a restaurant and a coffee shop, and before the night ended, they decided to

stop by the Masonic Dance Hall, the place where they first met seven years earlier. At around 12.40 a.m., the couple hopped in their car, turned on the heater to let it warm up a bit, and placed a tape in the stereo. The song Dancing Queen played loudly throughout the car as Christine and John shared one laugh. hug. According to John, right as they released each other, a bullet would pierce through the passenger side window. John grabbed Christine, pulling her down away from the bullets, but he noticed that she was bleeding from her head. Once the shooting stopped and the shooter was gone, John ran out into the streets yelling for someone to help him. He ran towards the first car he saw that was

stopped at a red light. My girl's been hurt. Please help me. Please. But the car drove away. So John ran towards another man that was nearby and called out for help. Please, mister, you got to help me. They shot my girlfriend. But that man too looked at John and walked away. At this point, John jumped back into his car and drove it into the middle of an intersection, stopping traffic. First responders would eventually get to the scene and take Christine to the hospital,

but she was shot in the head and would succumb to her injuries just hours. later and interestingly enough Christine like the first victims was shot with a 44 caliber bulldog Christine Froon 26 years old soon to be married is dead today dead in a shooting that has no apparent motive and dead perhaps just because by chance her boyfriend John Deal had to park four blocks away from the movie theater they were visiting I've left the engine once or twice and then all of a sudden there's a crash you know, I turned and I seen Chris falling like this towards me, you know. And I grabbed, I started screaming, Chris, Chris, Chris, you know, and then there was one more bang, you know.

And like I had her on, you know, I pulled it towards me and we went down, you know, I went down in my seat, like, you know, I went down. And I heard one more bang. After six months and four different shootings, the New York Police Department was starting to connect some dogs, including the fact that all of their victims were young with brown hair. Do you feel personally threatened by the 44 caliber killer because you have long dark hair? Yes, I do. Has his existence in any way interfered with your movements at night? Yes, I stay in.

Didn't stay in in the past? No. I don't feel free to go out to walk the streets or go out at all. Excuse me. I'm Jeff Kamen from Channel 11 News. Do you feel personally threatened by the 44 caliber killer because you have long brown hair? No, not at all. Uh-uh.

I'm afraid. I'm afraid to go out in the car. I'm afraid to do anything. Never know where he's going to be. Big. Have you ever thought of cutting your hair or wearing it up because of this guy? No. Did you ever think of cutting your hair because of him?

No, I never thought of going to that extent. I just don't want to be reckoned. I thought it may be dying at a little redder or something, really. On February 1st, 1977 Peter Bernstein of the Daily News published an article warning the public. More than 50 detectives are investigating possible links between the murder of Christine Freund, In Forest Hills, Queens, early Sunday, and three episodes last year, two in Queens and one in the Bronx. Two young women have been killed and three were wounded, and one of them seriously in the four incidents. We are leaning toward a connection in all these cases, said Sergeant Richard Conland of the Queen's 15th Homicide Zone.

In each of these cases, a single gunman, acting without apparent motive, emerged in the early morning darkness to shoot down his unsuspecting victims. But the mere acknowledgement of the shootings having a connection wasn't going to stop them from happening. because on March 8th, 1977, the killer would strike again. Shortly after 7.30 p.m., a 19-year-old college student named Virginia Voscaricayan began her walk home from her classes at Columbia University. Virginia was from Bulgaria, and she and her family had moved to the States when she was just 11 years old. She was once again a beautiful young woman with long wavy hair, and she was very intelligent. She was in school majoring in Russian and political science, and on this very night, she was. is walking home with all of her textbooks in hand. Virginia's apartment happened to be in the same

neighborhood where Christine Freyne was shot weeks earlier, and as she walks along the street, she notices a man walking towards her from the opposite direction. Being polite, she moves to the side to let the man pass, but once he was about five feet in front of her, the man pulls out a gun. Virginia quickly raises her textbooks in front of her face, but the gunman shoots anyways. Thick textbooks smashing into Virginia's face, right above her upper lip. Investigators would later find the 44 caliber bullet lodged inside of her neck. And as Virginia lay dead on the sidewalk, her killer began to run from the scene. While he's running, he places a hat over his face, hoping to conceal his identity. But just before he did so, a neighbor named Ed Marlow saw him for

just a brief moment. He would later describe the man as short, probably around 16 to 18 years old, of stocky build wearing a sweater and a hat. Every night coming home from school, it was an easy passage for Virginia Roskogression. Leaving the subway two blocks back, you would come down here to Dartworth Street, turn right, and we'd then have to walk approximately two blocks more to Essex, which you'd turn left and enter her door. But last night, she only got this far. At this point in our story, there had been five different shootings, four people severely wounded, and three people dead, all in a span of around seven months. Two days after Virginia's death, a press conference was held detailing the recent murders. And here is a portion of what was said.

Mayor Beam and Police Commissioner Cod in a joint appeal to the public for help disclosed yesterday that the police were seeking the same man for the senseless killings of three young women since July 29th, including two recently from Forest Hills. The conclusion was based on ballistics examinations that showed the same 44-calibre revolver had been used for the three killings. Law enforcement essentially told the public that the same gun was being used at each crime, a 44-caliber revolver. They then described one singular man that the public should be on the lookout for. After hearing this, like the media does with every serial killer, they give him a nickname, the 44-caliber killer. Within hours, the killer's new title was on the front of every

newspaper, every news channel, and it was all anyone could think or talk about. But one thing the public wasn't aware of was that law enforcement wasn't being completely honest in their press conference. You see, they told the public that they were certain the same gun was being used at each crime. And yeah, the same type of gun was being used, meaning that everyone was shot with a 44 caliber revolver. But some victims were shot with a 44 caliber bulldog. And in other shootings, ballistics test proved that the bullets could have come from an entire. different type of 44 caliber. Now, the statement I'm about to read was not released to the public until much later, but John Santushy, the Queens District Attorney would later say, quote,

the bullets were similar but weren't conclusively matched. Maybe the same gun was used, maybe not. In terms of evidence, the reports were inconclusive. End quote. It's clear that law enforcement wanted to make some headway in the case, but they made a huge mistake releasing that information as fact when the results proved otherwise. We will definitely go further into this a little later, but as for now, the police department didn't want to reveal that there could be more than one gun involved, because multiple guns means that there's likely multiple killers. In addition, most of the composite sketches from the crime scenes looked nothing alike. How is it that all of these witnesses are describing completely different men if the same person is committing each crime.

But the police withhold all of this information from the public. They weren't sure what they had on their hands, but if word got out that there was more than one madman on the loose, the city would descend into chaos. So they kept it all hush-hush, and they let the media run with the story that a single perpetrator was on the loose, the 44-caliber killer. This is a police sketch of the suspect in one of the nastiest murder cases New York police have had come their way in a long time. The killer police are looking for is called the 44 caliber killer because of the weapon he has used. We have determined that there has been a 44 caliber revolver used in every one of them, which is why, as the mayor mentioned, it's important that any person having information with respect to anyone who's in possession of a 44 caliber revolver call us.

The general description that we have is of a male, white, 25 to 30 years of age, 5 feet 10 inches to 6 feet in height, medium build, well-groomed with dark hair which is poned straight back, and wearing a raincoat type of outer garment, tan or brownish. Pena, what do you know about the way this man operates? Do you feel he selects his victims in advance, or how does he go about his? We don't believe he selects the victims in advance. The way he operates is apparently he prowls by car, roams the neighborhood by car,

and when he sees a likely target gets out and stalks them by foot. He generally is shot at couples sitting in car cars. With all of the public pressure to find the 44 caliber killer, a task force was finally made, but detectives were frustrated. The shootings themselves were completely random. They had no suspects, little evidence, and they never knew when the killer would strike next. It had been a whole month since the 44-Calber killer's last murder, and the entire city was anxious for when he would strike again. That day would eventually come on April 17, 1977.

That evening, a 19-year-old woman named Valentina Suriani was getting ready for a date with her boyfriend, Alexander Issao. Valentina was an aspiring actress who had recently graduated from St. Catherine's Academy. She was a friendly, outgoing girl with short brown hair, brown eyes, and everyone that knew her described. as being extremely strong-willed. Her desire to be something in this world was her strongest passion, and she knew that she was destined for greatness. Once Valentina was finished getting ready, she met her boyfriend Alexander outside for their date night. Alexander was 20 years old with long curly brown hair, and he worked in the operations department of a towing company in Manhattan. The couple spent their night at a movie feeder, followed by a party that they attended for a few

hours. When they left the party, it was about 3 a.m. Before dropping Valentina back off at her apartment, the two decided to park their Mercury Montego along a darkened area of the Hutchinson River Parkway, which is about four blocks away from where Donna Loria was murdered, the first victim of the shootings. Valentina and Alex were deeply in love, and they wanted to spend a few more minutes with each other before the night ended, so Valentina unbuckled her seat and crawled over in the driver's seat to sit on Alex's lap. The two began to kiss, but neither of them had any idea that at that very moment, A man outside of the car was pointing a 44 caliber revolver right at Valentina's head. The couple's kiss was suddenly interrupted when a bullet shattered the passenger side window.

The bullet would enter Valentina through the side of her mouth, travel through her neck, and exit below her right ear. A second shot was fired, this time entering above her ear and through her brain. Alex, whose face was covered in his girlfriend's blood, tried to duck down away from the gunshots, but he too was struck by two bullets that entered through the top of his head. Valentina was killed instantly from the bullets that struck her face. She was still sitting on Alex's lap while his upper body slumped towards the passenger seat. Alex was barely hanging onto life, bleeding from the gunshot wounds to his head, as the gunman disappeared into the night.

Both Valentina and Alex would die from their injuries that night, raising the 44 caliber killer's body count to five. Early yesterday, the killer struck again, returning here to the Bronx two blocks from his first attack. 18-year-old Valentina Suriani and her steady boyfriend, 20-year-old Alexander Esau, were parked in his car on the Hutchinson River Parkway Service Road. At 3 a.m., three shots tore through the side window of the car.

Valentina died, a bullet wound in the head. Alexander was hit twice in the head. He died at 9 o'clock last night. This holiday season with Christmas, my birthday actually is well, coming up, Courtney and I want to give gifts to our loved ones that make them feel special and unique, just like the relationship that we all share. That's why I'm personally going to give everyone I care about Storyworth. Storyworth is an online service that helps you and your loved ones preserve precious memories and stories for years to come.

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Go check it out, guys. You'll love the books. And let's get back to today's gruesome story. When detectives eventually arrive on scene, they couldn't help but be shocked by the shooter's accuracy. Four bullets had been fired, and each of them had found their mark and entered the victim's heads, which is usually difficult considering the recoil that is common in 44-caliber revolvers. But another thing found at the crime scene was even more shocking. There, on the ground by Alex's car, was an envelope that was addressed to the quick,

Queen's Detective Captain Joseph Borelli. This envelope would change the entire direction of the case as we know it. Because after this, the world would know the real identity of the man who had been terrorizing New York. And he didn't call himself the 44 caliber killer. Instead, he called himself a name that you and I are all too familiar with. The son of Sam. The letter was four pages long, written in capitalized slanted letters, and it read this. I am deeply hurt by your calling me a woman hater.

I am not, but I am a monster. I am the son of Sam. I am a little brat. When Father Sam gets drunk, he gets mean. He beats his family. Sometimes he ties me up to the back of the house. Other times, he locks me in the garage. Sam loves to drink blood.

Go out and kill, commands Father Sam. Behind our house, some rest. Mostly young, raped and slaughtered. Their blood drained. Just bones now. Papa Sam keeps me locked in the attic too. I can't get out, but I look out the attic window and watch the world go by. I feel like an outsider.

I am on a different wavelength than everybody else. Programmed to kill. However, to stop me, you must kill me. Attention all police. Shoot me first. Shoot to kill or else. Keep out of my way, or you will. die. Papa Sam is old now. He needs some blood to preserve his youth. He has had too many heart

attacks. Too many heart attacks. Ugh, me hooted earth, sunny boy. I miss my pretty princess most of all. She's resting in our lady's house. But I'll see her soon. I am the monster, Beelzebub, the chubby behemoth. I love to hunt, prowling the streets looking for fair game, tasty meat. The women of queens are the prettiest of all. I must be the water they drink. I live for the hunt, my life. Blood for Papa. Mr. Borrelli, sir, I don't want to kill any more, no, sir. No more, but I must honor thy father.

I want to make love to the world. I love people. I don't belong on earth. Return me to Yahoo's, to the people of Queens. I love you. And I want to wish all of you a happy Easter. May God bless you in this life and in the next. And for now I say goodbye and good night.

Police, let me haunt you with these words. I'll be back. I'll be back. To be interpreted as bang. Bang, bang, bang, bang. Og! You're in murder? Mr. Monster.

This letter would change the entire course of the investigation. Because it was clear that investigators weren't just dealing with a murderer. This man was delusional. He was deranged. And he made it clear that the killings would not stop until he was apprehended. The letter also gave investigators some important leads. For instance, the killer mentioned a house with a garage, an attic, a backyard with a dog, hinting that he lived in some sort of suburban area.

He also mentions an old man named Sam, who was a violent drunk with heart problems and had a family that spoke with a Scottish accent. But more importantly, the killer warned that he would kill again. At this point in our story, the task force that was working on the son of Sam King, case had over 150 members, all of whom were working tirelessly to bring the killer to justice. Towards the end of May, the NYPD had a profile of their killer. They said he was a paranoid schizophrenic, neurotic, and that he may think of himself as having a demonic possession. But finding a man with this profile in a place as large as New York

City seemed nearly impossible. So detectives tried to find him by locating every single 44, caliber bulldog that had ever been made. This gave them a list of about 28,000 guns, but 670 of those had been stolen and were untraceable. This was clearly not the best route to take to find their killer, but the police didn't have any other options. They had even set up undercover operations where they would place dummies and parked cars along the streets, hoping that they would catch their killer in the act. But they never did. After the first was left at the crime scene, Son of Sam was quiet for about a month. May 30th, a writer for the Daily News named Jimmy Breslin would walk into his place of work

thinking it was just an average day in the news industry. Now, Jimmy was known to be very different from other people in his field. He was an amazing yet controversial writer who had a particular interest in crime. He had been very invested in the Son of Sam killings from the very beginning and he was connected to the task force. So on May 30th, when Jimmy walked into work and started sorting through his mail, he had no idea that his entire career was about to be changed forever. Because in that mailbox, addressed specifically to him, was a letter from Son of Sam himself. And that letter read this. Oh, from the gutters of New York City, which are filled with dog manure, vomit, stale wine,

urine and blood. Hello from the sewers of New York City which swallow up these delicacies when they are washed away by the sweeper trucks. Hello from the cracks in the sidewalks of New York City and from the ants that dwell in these cracks and feed on the dried blood of the dead that has seeped into these cracks. J.B., I'm just dropping you a line to let you know that I appreciate your interest in those recent and horrendous 44 killings. I also want to tell you that I read your column daily and I find it quite informative. Tell me, Jim, What will you have for July 29th? You can forget about me if you like because I don't care for publicity.

However, you must not forget Donna Loria, then you cannot let the people forget her either. She was a very, very sweet girl, but Sam's a thirsty lad, and he won't let me stop killing until he gets his fill of blood. Mr. Breslin, sir, don't think that because you haven't heard for me for a while, that I went to sleep. No, rather, I am still here, like a spirit roaming the night.

Thirsty, hungry, seldom stopping to rest. anxious to please Sam. I love my work. Now the void has been filled. Perhaps we shall meet face to face someday, or perhaps I will be blown away by cops with smoking 38s. Whatever. If I shall be fortunate enough to meet you, I will tell you all about Sam if you like, and I will introduce you to him. His name is Sam the Terrible. Not knowing what the future holds, I shall say farewell, and I will see you at the next job. Or should I say, you will see my handiwork at the next job? Remember Miss Loria, thank you. In their blood and from the gutter, Sam's creation.

44. Here are some names to help you along. Forward them to the inspector for use by the NCIC. The Duke of Death. The Wicked King Wicker. The 22 disciples of Hell. John Wheaties, rapist and suffocator of young girls. P.S. J.B.

Please inform all the detectives working the slaying to remain. P.S. J.B. Please inform all the detectives working working. the case that I wish them the best of luck. Keep them digging, drive on, think positive, get off your butts, knock on coffins, etc. Upon my capture, I promised to buy all the guys working on the case a new pair of shoes if I can get up the money. Son of Sam. At the end of the letter, Son of Sam drew a symbol that relates to a 19th century occultist, Elephus Levi. After reading this, Jimmy Breslin presented it to the police, and then, like anyone in his industry, he would go on to publish it in the daily news.

The letter sparked an uproar in New York City. Thousands of people were calling into the police stations, turning in different men named Duke or John, and they even had people that claimed to know the hidden meanings behind the letter. And while all the amateurs loose of New York were trying to solve the case, Son of Sam was planning his next kill. You know, it's never too early to start gift shopping for the holidays. Trust me, I always end up forgetting to do half of my shopping and then I'm freaking out the last day before Christmas. Today you can save big on a gift that your loved one will use every day. Racon Wireless earbuds. The new everyday earbuds come with three new sound profiles to make sure everything you're listening to sounds its best with just the right amount of bass.

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But anyways, let's get back to the final chapter of today's gruesome story. It was a Saturday, June 25th, And a 17-year-old girl named Judy Placito was hanging out with a few of her friends, celebrating her recent graduation from St. Catherine's Academy. This was the same high school that our victim, Valentina, attended. The two didn't know each other very well, but Judy actually attended Valentina's funeral. And she had no way of knowing that she, too, would later become a victim. Judy Placito didn't have the easiest life.

Her mom died from Hodgkin's disease when she was just a child, and she and her two siblings lived with her aunt. But from what we could gather, Judy was a beautiful girl with long, dark hair, who enjoyed spending time with the people she loved. And that's exactly what she was doing on the night of June 25th. Judy and her friends would drive to a queen's disco party called Elephus. Now, the word Elephus in Latin means elephant, which is an interesting part of this story, because in the occult, an elephant symbolizes the demon, but he is. And in Son of Sam's first letter, he references the demon behemoth. Now, that's obviously not common knowledge, so no one would ever make the connection that his demon reference in the last letter implicated where he would strike next.

The Elephus Disco. Judy and her friends danced for hours without a care in the world. One of these friends was Salvador Lupo, a 20-year-old boy from Queens who loved the disco scene. He and Judy were a lot alike. They loved the nightlife of New York City and they took advantage of it whenever they could. So when Judy's friends wanted to leave the disco early, she decided to stay back with Salvador. Plus, they kind of liked each other and the two spent the next few hours dancing and having the time of their lives. At around 3 a.m., when the disco was near closing, Salvador and Judy left the club holding hands and hopped inside of their 1972 Maroon Cadillac.

They sit in the car for a few minutes, and at one point, one of them mentioned something about Son of Sam. Little did they know that Son of Sam was closer than they expected, because suddenly, a bullet pierces through the passenger side window, hitting Judy in the neck. The next bullet hits Judy in the head, but luckily it only grazed through the skin of her forehead. Once the gunman fled the scene, Salvador exited the vehicle to go. go get help, and Judy, who is now covered in blood, used all of her strength to crawl out of the car. She ended up collapsing right as a crowd of people came to her aid. There was already a heavy amount of police officers in the area driving around in their unmarked cars, including Detective Sergeant Joseph Coffey and his partner.

They quickly rushed to the scene and got word that there was a strange white male with a stocky build running about three blocks down from the scene. There were also witnesses that claimed to have seen a suspicious, well-dressed man with a mustache hop into a yellow Chevy Nova and drive away from the scene with no headlights. Apparently that car had been circling the area all night, and after the shooting, he left in the same direction as the shooter. But unfortunately, the police were never able to find the man running away from the scene, or the yellow Chevy Nova.

And even though both Judy and Salvatore would survive this incident, neither were able to describe their attacker. Two hours before dawn, Sunday morning, a young couple was sitting in this car on a quiet street in Queens. Residents say they heard four shots ring out. Then Judy Placito left the car which had been parked by that tree and staggered up 211th Street, here to 45th Road where she fell just about here. The summer of 77 won't be easily forgotten by New Yorkers. For one thing, there's a killer on the loose.

He calls himself son of Sam, and during the past year he has killed six people with his 44. caliber revolver. Police say they are nowhere near solving the case. I know what it is to walk around in my childhood without any problems, happy, go lucky, and go where I want, but no longer like that. You have to look over your shoulder, and I find people, when you're walking, people just look over their shoulder. The citizens of New York had spent the last year in pure terror, wondering where son of Sam would strike next. And more importantly, who he would strike next. Because all of his victims had been young, and most of them had been women with long dark hair, girls from all around the city were dying and cutting their hair or buying blonde wigs,

hoping that that would save them from getting killed. The shootings forced a lot of people to stay indoors, and when they did leave their homes, they were constantly looking over their shoulder, questioning if the person next to them was going to kill them. And what was once a city where young people thrived was never. a city crumbling in fear. People were even more anxious as the summer went on because July 29th was approaching, the one-year anniversary of the first son of Sam's shooting. The day before, on July 28th, Jimmy Breslin published a piece that read,

And somewhere in the city, a loner, a deranged loner, picks up this paper and gloats. Again, he has what he wants. Is tomorrow night July 29th so significant to him that he must go out walk the night's streets and find a victim? Or will he sit alone and look out his attic window and be thrilled by his power? This power that will have him in the newspapers and on television and in the thoughts and conversations of most of the young people in the city?

And Jimmy Breslin was right. Nearly every young woman in New York was thinking about the following day and what that could mean for them. Including a 20-year-old named Stacey Moskiewicz. The night before the anniversary, Stacy and her sister Ricky

decided to get dinner at Beefsteak Charlie's restaurant. While they were there waiting on their food, a dark-haired young man with a mustache approached their table and asked if he could take a seat with them. He was handsome and seemed friendly, so Stacey agrees. When he sits down, he introduces himself as 20-year-old Robert Vialante, a clothing retail worker in the city.

This impressed Stacey because she worked as a color coordinator for a shoe company in the image. Empire State Building. The two conversed for a few minutes, and before leaving the table, Robert asked if he could take her on a date that upcoming Saturday. Stacey agreed, gave him her phone number and address, and Robert told her that he would pick her up at 8. The next day, when July 29th came around, Stacey stayed indoors, away from the threat of Son of Sam. Luckily, he didn't kill anyone on the anniversary of the shooting. And the people of New York felt a brief sense of relief. By day, it's common to see young women with kerchiefs over their hair or hair pinned up

because most of the victims had long hair. When you get people cutting their hair, when you get people dying their hair, when you get people, when you get my wife who were scared to even walk the street, when you get me who were scared to walk the street, for God's sake. We used to stay in front of my house and plucking, you know, and kiss good night, but we can't do that no more. Just go right in. You have to watch where you go now, you know, how late you stay out and... Have you restricted your own movements? Yeah. You don't go out as much as you used to?

No, and I'm always with somebody, you know. You know, I know I'm going to be taken right home or whatever, you know. What about your friends? Are they doing the same thing? Yes. Even when they don't have long hair, you know, same thing. Scared you. On July 30th, Stacey started getting ready for her date with Robert, and she wasn't too

worried about being out in the city because at this point Son of Sam had only shot brunettes. Stacey had light blonde hair, so she had no reason to believe that she would become son of Sam's next victim. At around 8 p.m. that night, Robert knocked on Moskowitz's front door. Before leaving for their date, Stacey's parents, Jerry and Nisa, asked the two what they had planned for the evening. Robert told them that they were going to see a movie in Brooklyn and then maybe stopped by a disco afterwards. Her parents felt a little relieved, knowing that the two wouldn't be in Queens, but they still made sure to warn them by saying, I don't want you kids getting anywhere near trouble out there. I want you to have a good time,

but remember that son of Sam. Stacey reassured her mother by saying, Mom, we're going to be in Brooklyn and I'm blonde, we'll be okay. And with that, she walked out of the front door, which would be the last time her family would see her alive. On the other side of town, another person was getting ready for the night. He had spent the day before, smiling ear to ear when considering the amount of terror he had caused throughout the city. He was deliberate and not choosing a victim that night. Instead, he spent the anniversary writing a letter to the police. The letter read this. This is a warning to all police agencies in the tri-state area. For your information, a satanic cult, devil worshippers, and practitioners of witchcraft that has been

established for quite some time has been instructed by their high command, Satan, to begin to systematically kill and slaughter young girls or people of good health and clean blood. They plan to kill at least 100 young women and men, but mostly woman, as part of a satanic ritual which involves the shedding of the victim's innocent blood. Warning, the streets shall be run with blood. I, David Berkowitz, have been chosen, chosen since birth, to be one of the executioners for the cult. He who hath eyes let him see the dead victims.

He who hath ears let him listen to what I say. David Berkowitz. No one knew at the time, but that was son of Sam's real name. He was a 24-year-old postal worker, about 5-11, 200 pounds, with blue eyes and dark curly hair. People that knew David Berkowitz said that he was kind of unremarkable, nice but quiet, someone that wouldn't stand out in a crowd. Since being discharged from the army in 1974, David had a hard time holding down. a job, giving him lots of free time to prowl the streets of New York City. And that was exactly

his plan for tonight, July 30th, 1977. So he put on a gray shirt, blue jeans, a blue denim jacket, and he made his way out to his 1970 Ford Galaxy to wreak havoc on the city. That night, over 300 police officers were assigned specifically to be on the lookout for Son of Sam. But they were were mostly in Queens and in the Bronx, and they had no idea that on that night, the son of Sam had planned to strike in Brooklyn. At around 10 p.m. Stacey had called her mom to let her know that she was okay, and that she and Robert were having a great night. The couple would go on to see a movie, and afterwards at around 2 a.m., they would park their car near the 17th Avenue park, but before they arrived, several people would notice some suspicious activity happening

in and around the park. A few witnesses would later come forward, claiming to have seen two people in a yellow Volkswagen circling the area at around 1 a.m. At 1.30 a.m., another witness claimed to have seen a man in a white shirt and sunglasses holding a brown paper bag. At around the same time, a couple walking their dog, notice a man suspiciously ducked behind a bush. Another couple, Tommy Zano and his girlfriend Debbie, were parked in this area, and they said that they saw the yellow Volkswagen pass them on the street. So they decided to move their car up a few spots where it was a little darker. It was around this time when Robert and Stacey pull up and parked their car in the same spot where Tommy and Debbie had just been parked. Stacey and Robert

sit in the car for a few minutes, but then they decide to go into the park to swing. They only do so for about five minutes, and on their way back to the car, they notice a strange man leaning up against the park's restrooms. Robert would later describe him as a quote, weird grubby-looking hippie with his sleeves rolled up, dark and curly hair, he's unshaven, and has piercing dark eyes." The two avoid the strange man and quickly make their way back to the car. Now Tommy Zano and his girlfriend are sitting in their car about two spots ahead of Robert and Stacey.

Tommy says that at one point he looks in his rearview mirror and sees a man standing by a bench and he's glaring at Robert's car. The strange man looks to be about 5'7, stalky, his sleeves rolled up, and his face is unshaven. Kind of like the guy that Robert and Stacey just saw in the park moments earlier. But this guy has long, straight blonde hair. But instead, this guy has long straight blonde hair that almost looked like a wig. So Tommy watches as this guy approaches Robert's car behind him. Robert and Stacey are kissing so they don't see the man standing about two feet away from the window.

But Tommy does, and he has a very clear view of what's happening. And suddenly, the man pulls out a 44-caliber bulldog from beneath his shirt, crouches down, and fires four shots through the window. Tommy said that afterwards, the man. took off running faster than he'd ever seen anyone run away before. Inside of the car, Robert is still conscious, but he knows that he's badly hurt because he couldn't see a single thing. The two bullets that had hit him had hit him in the eye. But he could hear Stacey moaning next to him and he knows that he needs to get help.

So Robert uses all of his strength to push the car's horn. Next, while profusely bleeding, Robert stumbles out of his vehicle and screams for help. When first responders arrive on scene, both Stacey and Robert are still alive, despite both being shot twice in the head. Robert, who was shot in the face, would go on to lose his eye, but he ended up surviving. Stacey, on the other hand, had to go through an eight-hour surgery to fix her injuries, but her chances of survival were slim. And unfortunately, just 18 hours after being shot, Stacey Moskowitz would pass away. Both she and Robert's loved ones were devastated.

What can you tell me about your son? We brought him up the right way. Good boy, never had any trouble, never involved in any dope, never involved in any of your rest. What can I say? You told him to stay out of Queens. I told him to stay out of Queens. He says, Dad, I'm going to stay out of Queens.

Because he used to go to Queens. He says, I'll do it for you and my. I'll hang around in Brooklyn. And that's where he found him. On July 31st, he hit in Brooklyn. Stacey Moskowitz died and her boyfriend was almost blinded by the unexpected hail of bullets. The hospital, her father, was stunned. I still tell you, I've got something very dear to me.

A great kid. Miss Moskowitz died of massive brain damage. Her mother referred to that. And she would have been a vegetable had she lived. and my daughter loved life too much and she would never have wanted it that way and she lived with dignity

and she died with dignity but most important of the people that an animal should snuff away a life of a young girl, blind a young boy and has killed others and will probably go on killing

an animal like this has to be caught son of Sam wasn't supposed to be in Brooklyn and they had no reason to believe that their loved one would be his next victim. And law enforcement was just as shocked. Police Commissioner Michael Codd would later admit that just being on the lookout in Queens and the Bronx was a huge mistake. And he added, quote, we've got an entire city to protect now. Sam is telling us he can strike anywhere, end quote. But luckily, there were many witnesses to this shooting. One witness was near the park that night and saw a man in a wig run from the seam, get inside of a vehicle,

and drive away, and she was able to tell that the license plate number read either 4GUR or 4GVR. Another lady in a nearby building said that after the shots rang out, she saw a yellow Volkswagen with a partial license plate number reading 463, fleeing from the scene with their headlights off. The speeding Volkswagen would nearly crash into another car at the intersection a few moments on, and the car that he almost crashed into actually chased him down for a while and was able to get a good look at the driver. After hearing this information, nearly every cop in town was on a lookout for the yellow Volkswagen, because based on witness's accounts, the driver of that vehicle was indeed the son of Sam. Now, as we mentioned earlier, David Berkowitz drives a Ford Galaxy, a blue

Ford Galaxy, not a yellow Volkswagen. But in a strange twist, David's car indeed was near the scene of the crime that night on the night of the shooting. And a part of the car, and upon the car, parking ticket would later prove this and would later prove to be his downfall. Five blocks away from where the shooting occurred, David Berkowitz's Ford Galaxy was parked illegally in front of a fire hydrant. And at 205 a.m., he would have a ticket placed on his windshield. A woman who was walking her dog actually watched as David ripped the ticket off of his windshield shortly before the shots rang out. Something about the man frightened her, and she was almost positive that she saw the butt of a gun in his hand.

So she decided to call the police to inform them. At first, the police didn't want to believe her story because based on other witness accounts, the shooter sped away in a yellow Volkswagen, not a Ford Galaxy. And if what she was saying was true, then their whole investigation was going in the wrong direction. But the woman was adamant that they look into it,

so they did. They pulled up records of everyone who had gotten a ticket on that street on the night of the shooting. And one of the names on the list was David Berkowitz. When detectives looked into this parking ticket, they found out that David Berkowitz was a young man who lived in the neighborhood of Yonkers. And when the detective placed a call to the Yonkers PD to see if they had any additional information on Berkowitz, he was shocked. The dispatcher that handled the call was a woman by the name of Wheat Carr. And Wheat Carr was actually a neighbor of David's. She and some of her family members lived in the house behind his apartment complex.

And as Wheat was describing David, some very chilling connections began to arise. She told the detective that David had shot the family's Black Labrador to death. A Black Labrador that belonged to her father, a man named Sam. Unable to ignore the bizarre connections between the son of Sam and this random man named David Berkowitz, they were almost 100% sure that he was the killer. So on August 10, 1977, four police officers made their way to 35 Pine Street to pay David Berkowitz a visit. It should be noted that at the time that these officers headed to Yonkers to talk to David, they had almost no idea what he looked like, only a basic physical

description. However, they knew the exact make, model, and color of David's car. When they arrived at the apartment complex, the officers were almost immediately able to identify David's Ford Galaxy. So, they approached the vehicle and peered through the window. When they did, they noticed a pistol lying near the passenger seat. Without a search warrant, the officers then break into David's car and perform an impromptu search, and what they found gave them all the proof that they needed. Right there in the glove box is a handwritten letter penned by none other than the son of Sam. Moments later, David emerged from his apartment and began walking towards his car. After they watched David get into his car, the police officers set into action.

They drew their weapons and approached the vehicle, yelled for David to get out. And he did. And the exchange that followed was one that would go down in the history of true crime. One of the officers approached David quickly and asked him saying, Are you David Berkowitz? And David, with a cold, chilling smile. Turn towards the officer and said, no, I'm the son of Sam, and you got me. New York's award-winning news station.

This is the new Channel 11 Action News with Steve Bosch, Pat Harper, Jeff Kaman, Jerry Gerard Sports, and Roberto Toronto's Accuweather Report. Good evening. David Berkowitz, 24 years old, a postal worker walked out of his younger's apartment last night, turned the ignition key in his car, and found himself surrounded by police. Well, he said, you got me. Police say those words ended the biggest manhunt in New York City history with a capture of Son of Sam. And this is what they say tripped up, the 44 caliber killer, a parking ticket.

David Berkowitz drove this cream-colored Ford Galaxy from his home in Yonkers to Bensonhurst, Brooklyn, early on the morning of July 31st. He parked in front of 290 Bay 17th Street. Then police say he went to stalk his 12th and 13th victims. But in the place he parked was this fire hydrant, and police had the lead they needed. Jeff Kamen picks up the story from there. After more than 13 months of following thousands of leads down endless blind alleys, the detectives of the Brooklyn Omega Squad, part of that 300-Cup 44 killer manhunt,

captured the man they say is Son of Sam. The ice-cold trail heated up suddenly during the past week. A Brooklyn woman who saw a car parked illegally and occupied by a strange-looking man, moments before she heard the shots of the last Son-of-Sam attack, finally contacted police. The men come towards me. And he looked me straight in the face. He looked at my door.

And right here, we crossed each other. So he had his arm straight down. He had a long thing like a bell sticking up his sleep. And he made a left turn. I heard a boom. I don't know he was a killer. I don't know. He looked nice.

With David Berkowitz now in custody, the people of New York City could finally rent. after a long year of terror and bloodshed, or so they thought. No one really knew of the inconsistencies surrounding the last shooting, and they wouldn't until years later. But once it was all revealed, everyone had a lot of questions. Like, who was the driver of this yellow Volkswagen? Based on the witness's accounts, police looked everywhere for the Volkswagen following the shooting, and they had strong reason to believe that its driver was an accident.

involved in the crime. Interestingly enough, Tommy Zanyo's description of the gunman, who he saw very clearly matched perfectly to another description given of the Volkswagen driver. I mean, almost down to a T. Both witnesses even mentioned how the man was unshaven and had rolled up sleeves. But this was not David Berkowitz's recorded description that night. Two people actually saw David Berkowitz on the night of the shooting, and yes, he was near the scene. There's no doubt about that, but he was described by both witnesses as clean-shaven, wearing a dark denim jacket with rolled down sleeves. In addition, witnesses saw David five blocks away from the scene just two minutes before the shots ran out. Experts would later recreate this route and prove that it was nearly

impossible for him to be at Robert's car by the time of the shooting, all while changing his entire appearance and outfit along the way. David Berkowitz was not in that yellow Volkswagen that night, and whoever was matched the description of the real shooter. But this information just leaves us with more questions than answers. If David Berkowitz wasn't the shooter, then who was? What was his part in the murder? And why would he take the blame if he didn't do it? The alleged answers to these questions are soaked in blood, driven by the devil, and are even more bizarre than you could ever imagine. Join us next week as we take a deep dive into Berkowitz's confession, the satanic cult conspiracy, all of the additional murders and bizarre suicides that would

follow in the wake of David's arrest, and how we, along with many of the victims' families, ex-investigators and authors, believe that David Berkowitz was not the only son of Sam. Hey, everybody, it's Colin here. This is one of the craziest true crime. stories ever and next week's episode I think is going to blow your minds. It has so much information that both Courtney and I never knew about this case. Tune in, do not miss that episode. But if you like this episode, please go read the book, The Ultimate Evil by Maury Terry. That's where we got a large chunk of the information for this case and it's a great book that we really recommend you read. It really is an intriguing read. Also, consider giving us a five-star review on Apple Podcasts and share this

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as well at Murder in America and join our Facebook group, which is free. I wrote today's episode. You can follow me on Instagram at Courtshan. And I produced this episode. Follow me on Instagram at Colin Brown and also subscribe to my YouTube channel, The Paranormal Files. We cover a ton of true crime stuff on the channel that you guys will really love. But anyways, everybody, this case was a wild one, and it gets even wilder next week when we talk about the even bigger picture behind the son of Sam murders. So make sure you don't miss it. And this case, this case really does make me wonder. The dead don't talk. Or do they? Thanks for tuning in, everybody, and we'll see you next week.