Prime Crime: Solved Murders - Officer Ian Campbell Pt. 1

Episode Date: January 26, 2022

In March of 1963, two LAPD officers were kidnapped at gunpoint by two men. They were forced to drive two hours north of Los Angeles to an onion field. After being ordered out of the car, shots rang out. And chaos ensued. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Due to the graphic nature of this murder case, listener discretion is advised. This episode includes dramatizations and discussions of murder that some people may find offensive. We advise extreme caution for children under 13. Two men coasted through the L.A. night in a maroon, 1946 Ford coup. They sipped from the same bagged whiskey bottle as they approached Hollywood. Their eyes scanned liquor stores and restaurants, hoping to find someplace nearly empty. One man carried a cult revolver and the other a 32-caliber automatic handgun. The two men had only been partners in crime for nine days.

They worked together, watched each other's backs and split their earnings, but the man in the passenger seat was getting sick of the other's risky tactics and hoped to make this their last night as a team. At 10 p.m., the driver made a small mistake, one that would have major consequences. He pulled onto a dark road that narrowed at the end. The driver mistook this for a dead end and hooked an illegal U-turn.

Moments later, the cab of the little coop lit up. A red glow pulsed from behind them. The driver alerted his companion. We got pigs! Are you kidding me? The men felt for their weapons. Then the driver pulled to the curve. His temper flared and his sky-blue eyes went icy as he commanded the man in the passenger seat.

Relax. I got this. But his partner didn't trust him. He saw the look in the other man's eyes and felt a familiar sense of unease. The two men in the Ford were now on a collision course with partners on the opposite side of the law. Before the night was over, this crossroads would lead them to a remote field. 100 miles north of the city. Not everyone would walk away, alive. Welcome to Solved Murders, True Crime Mysteries,

a Spotify original from Parcast. I'm your host, Carter Roy. And I'm your host, Wendy McKenzie. Every Wednesday, we step into the world of true crimes most fascinating murder cases and tell the tale of how real-life detectives close the case. You can find episodes of Solved Murders and all other Spotify original

from Parcast for free exclusively on Spotify. This is our first episode on the 1963 abduction of two Hollywood policemen and a homicide that would become known as the Onion Field killing. This week will relive the tense standoff and hostage situation that climaxed in a brutal execution. Next week, we'll follow law enforcement's manhunt and the resulting trial. We have all that and more coming up. Stay with us. Yamava Resort and Casino at San Manuel is California's number one entertainment destination for today's superstars. Catch the Jonas Brothers return to the Yamava Theater stage on April 30th, the powerful vocals of Demi Lovato on May 17th,

and the signature Southern Country Rock of Eric Church on July 19th. Tickets on sale now at Yamavatheater.com, only at Yamava Resort and Casino, celebrating its 40th anniversary. You in? Must be 21 to enter. It was Saturday, March 9th, 1963 in Hollywood, California. An electric heartbeat pulsed through the town. Waves of tourists rolled along the concrete handprints of silver screen legends. But a dark undercurrent surged.

Drug dealers and thieves preyed on unsuspecting out-of-towners. One thing that didn't pulse was the constant L.A. traffic. All along the boulevards, lanes of cars, crawled forward. Engines idled as night fell. No one was going anywhere for a while. An unmarked four-door Plymouth was stuck with them. Two plainclothes officers inside had been tasked to round up suspects for a string of recent hate crimes and to cruise the street looking for car burglaries and robberies. But the partners had enough of the traffic jam. What do you say we stop and get some pie and coffee, partner? Hey, I'm in the middle of

memorizing license plates. I finally beat my record. Fifteen. I'm pulling off here. I've grown to appreciate these quiet nights. Any more quiet and all fall asleep. They settled into a booth and ordered large, coffee, steak, and room for dessert. They had only been partnered for nine days, but the two men were comfortable around each other. Could you top off my coffee? Anyway, Like I was saying, I was in the Marine Corps for a while. Yeah, me too. Were you in Korea? I was.

Officer Ian Campbell placed his coffee mug on the table. At six foot two inches tall, Ian had to look down at his partner. But despite the height difference, he felt a sense of likeness with him. Ian was only in his early 30s, but he'd seen it all. Since his time in the military, he'd worked five years in felony cars. That was why he'd been assigned as the other man's mentor. Once, I was north of the 30th parallel and found the only pair of bagpites on either side of Korea. I played Scotland as my Einheim a few hundred feet from the enemy.

How'd they like your pipes? Well, they shot at us. You almost had bagpipes at your funeral. Yeah, I guess I got lucky there. And life went on. There was a time I was studying to become a physician. But I became a cop, and the job grew on. me. I don't gamble my life anymore. I'm sort of the opposite. I was studying to be a farmer,

but after a few years in the Marines, police work seemed to be the only thing that kept me centered. There's times I think I need to roll the dice every day. 28-year-old Carl Hettinger was a rookie in felony cars. Stress from his previous department, vice, and his time in Korea left a lasting mark on him, so Carl had a tendency to suppress his deeper emotions. However, he found himself opening up to Ian. I learned a lot in Vice, but I was just through with it. Vights is hard on people. What's what I've heard. You bet. I know this alleyway not far from here. You go there at night and it's like

war in its own way. If the people out there get locked up, they'll end up right back on that same straight. Yeah, prison is no rehab. You know, Carl, you'll make a fine felony car officer. Speaking of, we should get back out there. Waiter, can I get a fresh cup to go? The officers made their way back onto the road. With Ian at the wheel, they turned north from Hollywood Boulevard onto Gower. It was still a quiet Saturday night. The slow shift gave the two men the chance to talk more. They realized they had a lot in common and they got along. You got kids, Carl? A few more months, and me and Helen will have our first.

She's doing July. You? Me and Ada have two girls. Let me tell you, I about went into shock when Ada delivered our first. It's unlike anything you've ever experienced. Don't let anything keep it from being there. Ian looked toward the road as he spoke. He headed down an alley and then waited to pull onto Carlos Avenue.

A maroon Ford crossed their path, having just a... come out of a U-turn, and the Plymouth's headlights illuminated the two men in the coop. The men wore matching leather jackets and caps. Ian's eye followed them as they passed. Something about them piqued his suspicion, which he took as an opportunity to train Carl. What do you see, partner? Two guys who just walked out of an old gangster flick. License plate lights are out.

Looks like they've got Nevada plates. All right, I'm going to follow him. It was 10 p.m. when the unmarked Plymouth made its way behind the maroon Ford. Ian decided this was the right moment. He steered and flipped on the sirens with ease. It was like clockwork to him. The Ford pulled over by the corner on Gower as he expected. Carl, on the other hand, felt his body tense.

His gut churned at the side of the Ford rolling to a halt. It was the same sensation he used to get in the war, and later during dangerous busts. But he wasn't sure what exactly caused the feeling now. Once both cars were stopped, Carl stepped out of the passenger side onto the sidewalk. He barely had his flashlight out when the Ford's passenger door burst open. The young man stumbled out. Carl clasped his sidearm. Police!

The man threw his empty hands up in the air, so Carl put his hand on his gun but did not draw it. Carl thought the man was overreacting. Something felt off to the trainee. He glanced to make sure the driver was still in the car. As Carl held the passenger in check, Ian got out and approached the driver. Up close, the man was not only painfully thin, but his neck seemed to stretch just a few inches too long.

His blue eyes were the color of a Southern California skyline. He grinned into the glow of Ian's flashlight. Evening, officer, I'm sorry to have troubled you tonight. I need you to step out of the vehicle, sir. What's this about? It's routine. Step out of the car, please. No need to tell me twice, officer.

The driver pushed open the door and stepped out onto the street. But before Ian could speak again, the driver spun around and grabbed a cult pistol. Then he leapt behind Ian and grabbed him by the back. of his jacket. Ian in shock remained still. The blue-eyed driver pushed his gun into Ian's jacket, jamming the barrel of his colt against his spine. With a gun out of sight, the man shoved Ian around the back of the Ford.

Carl noticed Ian and the driver as they moved in sync. He knew instantly that something was wrong, but before he could scan his partner's eyes for a sign or silent command, the driver yelled, "'Grab his gun, Jimmy!' "'Jimmy's eyes flitted from the long-neck driver to Carl, "'who still had his gun aimed at him. "'But as his partner demanded he take the officer's weapon,

"'Jimmy kept his hands high above him.' "'Neither Jimmy nor Carl understood exactly what they'd fallen into. "'It was Ian who spelled it out. "'He has a gun to my back, Carl.' "'And just like that, the officers found themselves in every cop's worst nightmare. Carl remained frozen. He was the rookie, but he had to make a call.

And if he made the wrong one, someone could die. Up next, a standoff in the street becomes a nightmare's drive through the country. The world is full of con men, fantasists, and corrupt authority figures. There are respected spiritual leaders who ask way too much of their followers, global companies with unexpected motives

and governments that value profit over all else. Luckily for us, the world is also full of people who stand up for what they believe in, even if it turns their lives upside down. I'm Pat Rodriguez, host of whistleblowers, the new podcast series that explores the biggest, most bizarre lies in history, through the eyes of those who risked absolutely everything

to expose them. This season in Whistleblowers, join us as we uncover the story of the women who brought down Hollywood's most controversial yoga guru. The doctors who believe one of the world's top surgeons used humans as as guinea pigs

and the woman who revealed Facebook's darkest secrets. Whistleblowers is a Spotify original from Parcast, airing episodes every Tuesday starting January 18th. Follow and listen to whistleblowers for free on Spotify. And now, back to the story. On March 9, 1963, a quiet night on the streets of Hollywood

led to a standoff between law enforcement and two crooks. Officers Ian Campbell and Carl Hettinger pulled over a Ford coop after it made an illegal U-turn. Unfortunately for them, the two men in the Ford were more dangerous than they'd suspected. The driver grabbed Ian to use as a little return. a human shield as he held his gun to the officer's back. The passenger stood on the curb with his hands in the air. That left Carl, the rookie officer, with his gun drawn, hoping to retake command of the situation. Carl also stood on the passenger side of the car. He aimed his gun in the direction

of the driver's voice, but Ian's large frame blocked his view of the target. He heard the driver command his partner once more. I said, get his gun, Jimmy! Carl then switched his aim back toward Jimmy. His gun was the only thing between himself and Ian and whoever these men were. The last thing he wanted was to lose it. Carl and Ian had thought the two men in the Ford

looked shady from the road. Up close, they were scrawny as jackals. They could be dealers or robbers. The officers could have caught them right in the middle of a crime. The seconds passed like hours. While Carl felt paralyzed, Ian knew the only way to play this. He was a master at de-escalation. If they wanted to get out of this without shots fired, they had to give in to the situation. Give him the gun, Carl. You sure. Give him the gun. Carl didn't know if this was the right decision,

but he trusted his partner's judgment and experience. Slowly, Carl lowered his gun. He then held it out to Jimmy, who seemed just as unsure as he reached for it. Jimmy and the driver now had all the weapons. For a moment, the gunman didn't move, but then the driver noticed Carl aiming his flashlight towards the street so a passing car might notice.

Put that light down. Keep your arms to your sides. No one do a thing unless I tell you. Got that? Okay. You got it. Just go on to your business. Well, aren't you the gentleman? Jimmy, pull the car to the curb. You two get in the fort. Big guy, you're with me. Just remember, I have my gun on you. Inside, he'd hoped the bandits would take their weapons and leave. After all, that would have been bad. enough, but he could see now that this game had only just begun. Where do you want me? Up front, you're driving. Your friend can get in the back behind you.

The four men crammed into the coop. Ian in the driver's seat, Carl behind him, and Jimmy next to Carl. The blue-eyed bandit took the passenger's seat and kept his gun to Ian's side. Nervous breath permeated the air. Where, too? Hang on. Jimmy, where's your gun? Jimmy fumbled his hands underneath the seat. He retrieved a 32-caliber automatic handgun.

Yeah, I got it. Let's get out of you already. That's all the irons, then. Get up on the freeway, big guy. Don't speed, stop at the lights, and don't draw any attention. Anything goes wrong, you're the first to die. As Ian turned over the ignition, Carl squinted to get a better look at Jimmy. He couldn't understand how these two crooks, who seemed to come from separate worlds, had teamed up. Regardless, Jimmy reeked of agitation.

Carl noticed that he spoke to his partner with contempt. It was dark on the Hollywood Freeway heading north. The man in the passenger seat craned his long neck to grin at Carl. Hey, big guy, your partner doesn't have much to say, huh? I just want to get home to my family. My wife is pregnant. Ah, don't you worry? Just do what we say, and everyone will live to see the sunrise.

The man's gun was still pressed to Ian's ribcage. Suddenly, flashing lights rose into view. Tension and hope filled the cab of the Ford. A patrolman had pulled someone over near an off-ramp. This is our exit, big guy. Just past them. Don't draw attention. Remember what I thought.

told you. ...ease to the off-ramp. He wondered what would happen if a fellow officer noticed them and hoped they'd somehow catch his attention. He thought through his options, then made his gambit. You should take off those leather caps. They were caught our attention in the first place. Ian glanced at the long-necked gunman as the Ford neared the traffic cop.

He tried to hold his gaze as a way to stall his movement until the right moment. The gunman squinted back at Ian, then quickly reached for his hat and chucked it to the floor. Ian's grip on the wheel tightened. They still weren't in the traffic cop's view. Jimmy remained still and kept his hat on. Ian hoped Jimmy would somehow catch the cop's attention, but they drove past him without so much as a flinch. Smooth driving, big guy.

Just keep going north now. It's almost over. Say, you boys got any cash? I've got ten. I have nine. If you let us out now, you'll get far with that much in your pocket. Keep driving. They drove for 90 miles into the farmland south of Bakersfield.

As his legs cramped, Carl checked his watch. Two hours had passed since they pulled the Ford over on Carlos Avenue. As time passed, both Ian and Carl... felt less tense. They'd gone this long without conflicts, so they hoped violence was unnecessary. They both kept their thoughts on home and their families. Okay, boys, here's the plan. There's a field up here. We'll pull over, keep you guys hostage, and stick up a driver on the road. Play it cool, and we all go home. Maybe you should quit talking so much, Hillbilly. Hey, Jimmy, maybe we should stick. We should

Stick up a store on the way to the safe house. Shut up, Greg! Ian and Carl caught that. They now had the leader's name, Greg. Don't worry, Jimmy. I'm just making small talk. Hey, big guy. How good of a shot are you?

I do okay on the range. Well, I'm a great shot. What do you say we have a little competition? Come on. We'll give you a side arm. A chill course through Ian's spine. He didn't want to be out in the dark with two armed lunatics. He stayed silent despite the venomous invitation.

Tell you what, I changed my mind. You see that farmhouse down there with the light on? It's less than half a mile away. We'll let your boys run there for help. How's that sound? That's fine. As long as we get home soon. Good.

See that dirt road? Turn there. I'll tell you when to stop. They drove through pitch black in silence with nothing but dirt road ahead. Ian, Carl, and Jimmy kept their sights on the farmhouse, hoping to be home free soon. Minutes passed in the darkness. Finally, Greg spoke. This is the spot.

Shut off the engine and kill the lights. Everybody out. Ian and Carl got out under Greg's watchful eye. As they stepped onto the soft field, they felt the cool air against their... damp skin. Ian breathed in the fresh air, and Carl stretched his aching legs. They'd done everything the gunman wanted, and now they hoped it was time to go free. The wilderness was silent around them. The moon cast an ivory glow, but there was something else. Ian sniffed the air. Carl smelled it too. As an ex-farmer, Carl recognized the scent. They were standing in an onion field.

The officers stood side by side and faced the gunman. It was a brief moment when their fingers accidentally touched. Greg stepped around the car. He walked up to the policeman. Jimmy at his side. Although Greg stopped in front of Carl, he shot his icy eyes at Ian. Then he said something unexpected. You ever heard of the little Lindberghlaw?

Carl was silent. He had no clue. what that was supposed to mean. Ian remained calm, though he had an idea of what Greg's cryptic question meant for him and Carl. His heart sank when he replied, Yes. And with that, Greg lifted his colt and fired a single round into Ian's face. Coming up, life and death play out in an onion field. And now, back to our story. On the night of March 9, 1963, every police officer's worst fear came true in an onion field north of Los Angeles. After officers Ian Campbell and Carl Hettinger pulled over a suspicious car for a traffic violation,

the armed bandits inside the car took them hostage. The four men spent a tense two hours on the road toward the country. When they arrived at an onion field, the gunman, Greg and Jimmy, ordered the officers out of the car. With a final taunt, Greg shot Ian dead. As Ian collapsed onto his back, Carl yelled. Everything seemed to happen at once after that. He turned and bolted through the field.

Carl ran in a zigzag pattern to make himself a harder target. He knew they'd try to kill him next. Behind him, Jimmy called out. Dang it, he's still moving. Gunfire erupted. Carl glanced back as he ran. In the all-consuming darkness, he could not see the men clearly, but he made out two different gun flashes. Half aimed at the ground where Ian lay, the others aimed toward him. Then Carl noticed a pile of tumbleweeds and dove into them. He collided with a barbed wire fence. He clawed his way through, the metal blades tearing into his clothes.

Part of the mangled fence tore into his leg, but Carl kept pushing as he fought for his life. At last he cleared the wire. Most of his left trouser leg came away, and he clambered onto the other side. He heard footsteps in the distance as at least one of the gunmen gave. chase. Carl pulled himself up and bolted again. He needed to get anywhere but here. The wide open valley offered no safe haven in sight. Carl thought he'd never find refuge. His lungs ached and his breath shortened. He could feel his legs cramping as he keeled slightly, but with thoughts of his pregnant wife waiting for him at home, Carl ran four miles without stopping.

Finally, he saw movement in the distance. As he urged himself onward, the silhouette of a tractor took form. A young man sat on top. The young man recoiled as the bloodied Carl approached him. Help me, please, please. My partner's been shot. All right now. Stay calm.

Who shot him? Two crooks. Back that way. They're chasing me. The farmhand gazed around at the surrounding dark. There was no one else for miles. Okay, then, come on, let's go. The farmhand jumped from the tractor, and both men took off running.

The farmhand outran Carl, afraid for his own life. And for a moment, Carl was alone again, but the young man doubled back. Look, we got to keep running. I can't. I can't run anymore. You got to keep up. See that branch's just ahead? That's where we're going. I'm not going to make it.

It was another mile to the ranch, but the farmhand urged Carl on. They ran together for some time, but soon Carl noticed the farmhand fall back. He pressed on, knowing he had to keep momentum. Somehow, limbs on fire and lungs aching, Carl pushed through. He made it to the ranch in one piece. Carl banged on the ranch door. When the rancher opened, Carl spilled his story. The man let him in.

As the rancher's family armed themselves, Carl settled into a chair and chugged a glass of water. Moments later, the farmhand arrived, unharmed. The rancher dialed up the local sheriff's office and reached a drowsy deputy. The rancher passed the phone to Carl. My name is Carl Hettinger, L-A-P-D. I was kidnapped and my partner's been shot.

I need you to put out a description of two men. right away. Carl did his best to describe Greg and Jimmy, their faces, voices, clothing, the Ford, everything. Even though almost three hours had passed since he and Ian were first taken hostage, his description was perfect, and it paid off. We have a report of a stolen vehicle in that area. A white 57 Plymouth. Must mean those boys already ditched their Ford for a new ride. We need to get out there. He could still be there. Who could be out there? Officer E. Ian Campbell, my partner, they shot him. I saw him go down.

Dispatchers sent out the call. Officers were armed and ready. This case of the 57 Plymouth was no longer a matter of a simple stolen vehicle. The driver was wanted for the kidnapping and murder of an officer. At 1.45 a.m., almost four hours since the kidnapping, two highway patrolmen abandoned their beat. They wanted to aid in the manhunt for a cop killer. Eventually, those two patrolmen passed a white Plymouth that matched the description. At that time, they were just seven miles from the onion field.

Even though the license plate was different, they decided to pull the car over anyway. Their decision finalized the course of events. One of the officers walked up to the driver's side of the Plymouth and shined his flashlight down at the long-necked blue-eyed driver. The man was alone in the car, and he smiled up at the officer. You're something the matter, officer? License and registration, please. Greg handed it over, and the officer held it under his flashlight.

The license read Gregory Powell, aged 32. That information was fine and good, but when the officer checked the vehicle registration, he noticed a key problem. This is a registration for a force. You know, that's my dumb fault. I have two cars and haven't registered this one yet. I hope that's not a problem. Would you step out of the car and open your trunk for us?

Greg complied. He got out of the car like a man with nothing to hide. What's this about? I wasn't speeding, was I? No, Mr. Powell, we're looking for a stolen Plymouth that matches the description of the vehicle you're driving. It's connected to an attack on an officer. You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?

My, my. I can assure you I had nothing to do with that. The officer looked to his partner who shrugged. Greg's body language was hard for them to decipher. It was calm, cool, and collected. Not what they'd expect from someone who just shot a cop point blank in the face, but letting the killer slip through their fingers was out of the question. So the officer carried on. Why don't you go on and open your trunk for us?

The smirk that Greg had stretched across his thin face faded a little. He slowly made his way around the car. As he did so, the other officer stepped closer to the car and shined his flashlight into the cab. Something reflected under the driver's seat. The second officer wasted no time. He reached in and pulled out an automatic handgun. Is this yours?

Yes, it is. I have a permit and everything for it. Let me pop the trunk for you. See, nothing strange in there. Your license has you living in the city. I see dirt and an irrigation shovel. Looks like it belongs to a farmer. I can see how you might think that, but I'm a working man. Sometimes that involves farm work, you know? The officer didn't like the crack in Greg's voice. the way he twitched and how his eyes cast to the side. Then the officer's partner reached into the back seat and pulled out a metal plate. Hang on. License plate, EOB 940. This is our car. Gregory Powell, I'm placing you under arrest. Hey man, I'm a taxpayer. You can't treat me like this. And look at this. What is it?

Police flashlight. It's got the words Hettinger, L-A-P-D on the side. The officers took Greg into custody. Seven miles away, Carl rode in the passenger side of a deputy's car. He was pale and shaken. His torn up clothes sagged. Despite the long, excruciating night, there was one more thing for him to do. The farmhand accompanied Carl, perhaps as an act of goodwill. His car led the deputy down the dirt roads that wound through the farmland. When they smelled onions in the wind, the farmhand told the deputy they could stop. To Carl's surprise and dismay, the onion field was empty. No car, no crooks, and no Ian. He saw the tire tracks from the Ford in the dirt, so he knew this was the right

spot. As he looked around, his eyes straining through the dark, he hoped Ian was somehow alive, but he'd seen him go down. The deputy searched the area with his flashlight. He wandered some distance and finally called to Carl. Over here! Carl joined the deputy before a ditch in the ground. Before he could say anything, the deputy's flashlight illuminated Ian's bullet-riddled body.

He lay slightly on his side with his head tilted forward, as if gazing at his watch. The deputy stepped down, minding his balance, and checked for a pulse. And then he looked up at Carl. I'm sorry. He's been shot in the mouth and multiple times in the chest. He's gone. I'm so... I shouldn't have given them my gun. I could have done something more. He would still be alive.

Carl broke down as the farmhand watched from the sidelines. The deputy called dispatch for an ambulance. That's when he heard the news, which he promptly reported. We got one of them. Gregory Powell is under arrest and are taking him to the station. They think he's willing to talk. Clouds passed under the moon. Carl's sense of time distorted. The others encouraged him to go home, but he insisted he accompany Ian in the ambulance.

He wanted to see this to the end. As he rode up front, Carl knew this was far from over. in some way he felt like he was still in the back seat as Greg was driving them out to the onion field, and Jimmy was still out there somewhere. Carl had no idea just how long it would be and how much more he'd have to endure before he could wake from this nightmare. Thanks again for tuning into solved murders. We'll be back next Wednesday with part two of the Onion Field killing,

and the pursuit of Officer Ian Campbell's true killer. For more information on this case, amongst the many sources we used, we found the Onion Field by Joseph Womba extremely helpful to our research. You can find all episodes of Solved Murders and all other Spotify originals from Parcast for free on Spotify. We'll see you next time. If we live, till next time. Solve murders, true crime mysteries, is,

a Spotify original from Parcast. It is executive produced by Max Cutler, sound designed by Michael Langsner, with production assistance by Ron Shapiro, Trent Williamson, Carly Madden, and Freddie Beckley. This episode of Solve Murders was written by Daniel William Gonzalez, with writing assistance by Sarah Batcheller and Giles Hoffsef, fact-checking by Claire Cronin, and research by Mickey Taylor. The amazing cast of voice actors includes Kai Jordan, Cameron Nicod, Julian Smith, and Lath Walshager. Solve Murder stars Wendy McKenzie and Carter Roy.