Timesuck with Dan Cummins - 207 - The Vampire of Sacramento: Serial Killer Richard Chase

Episode Date: August 31, 2020

Wow. This is a really, really crazy tale. Sacramento's Richard chase was very mentally ill. He was a paranoid schizophrenic who did not do well when he was off his meds. He was also a sadistic monster and its hard to give him a pass on the heinous acts he committed because of his psychological state. He brutally killed strangers and desecrated their bodies. He killed men, women, and children. He literally ate a baby. If you don't like the darker episodes, be sure to sit this one out. Not a tale for the squeamish! Donated $6600 to the YWCA's Idaho County Fund! To donate yourself to this important cause, go to ywcaidaho.org and earmark your donation to “General Fund Idaho County” by typing that in the comments section of the online donation form. Or call them at 208 743 1535. Watch the Suck on YouTube: Merch - https://badmagicmerch.com/ Discord! https://discord.gg/tqzH89v Want to join the Cult of the Curious private Facebook Group? Go directly to Facebook and search for "Cult of the Curious" in order to locate whatever current page hasn't been put in FB Jail :) For all merch related questions: https://badmagicmerch.com/pages/contact Please rate and subscribe on iTunes and elsewhere and follow the suck on social media!! @timesuckpodcast on IG and http://www.facebook.com/timesuckpodcast Wanna become a Space Lizard? We're over 9500 strong! Click here: https://www.patreon.com/timesuckpodcast Sign up through Patreon and for $5 a month you get to listen to the Secret Suck, which will drop Thursdays at Noon, PST. You'll also get 20% off of all regular Timesuck merch PLUS access to exclusive Space Lizard merch. You get to vote on two Monday topics each month via the app. And you get the download link for my new comedy album, Feel the Heat. Check the Patreon posts to find out how to download the new album and take advantage of other benefits

Richard Chase, the vampire of Sacramento. This is not an episode to listen to if you are easily disturbed. This one's rough. Real rough, but also darkly fascinating. Richard Chase had some strange beliefs, real, real strange. He believed that someone was stealing his blood. He thought that his skull was moving and falling apart. He thought he could make himself feel better

by finding small animals and drinking their blood. And then he started drinking human blood. Before he was caught, he would massacre multiple victims in ways that the Sacramento police had never seen before. Then after he was apprehended, he said he did what he did because not see aliens were poisoning his blood. Chase was a paranoid schizophrenic with violent instincts. He was a sadistic monster who loved her animals, start fires and make life hell for his family. What was going on inside Richard Chase's head? What horrors would he unleash on the people of Sacramento?

How many pets would meet their untimely gruesome end in Richard Chase's gory apartment? Bojangles does not like Richard Chase. All of this and more on a bizarre, what did I just hear true crime edition of Time Suck? This is Michael McDonald and you're listening to Time Suck. You're listening to Time Suck. Happy Monday, meat sacks. Welcome back to the cult of curious. Or if this is your first time here, oh boy, howdy.

Buckle the fuck up. Hill Nimrod, Hill Lucifer Fena, Bojangles is sitting this one out. He is not amused at all by today's topic. Glory be to Michael motherfucka McDonald, the silver fox crooner was doing a rena tours when today's dirtbag was doing his nasty thing. On Dan Cummins, the suck sorcerer, the most stash-y old mouth of mush, the master sucker, the king of the suck,

and you are listening to Time Suck. Got some good comedy news this week. My most recent stand-up special, Get Out of Here Devil, is now on Amazon Prime. It is now free to stream for Prime members So if you have prime and you haven't watched it yet, what the fuck you do with your life? Are you working? Providing for your family serving overseas the military? Oh, okay, all right. Okay fine. Those are actually your early valid excuses But you know for the rest of you, you know, maybe she'll watch it if you want to

Also so random a bit off my most recent album not the, but a new out live in Denver has blown up on TikTok. Almost three million views that record this and just a less than a week. So now I'm on TikTok. The income is comedy. Fuck it. I'll be, I'll be your weird TikTok uncle, uncle talk. And there's a bit on there on, on my channel. It's my gym, Connie. It's my gym, Connie. There's blown up with over 300,000 views in less than 24 hours as of this episode recording. So you know I'm a TikTokger now. Also, did you know we have a new time suck blanket

in the store at badmagicmerch.com? Yeah, we do. And it is made out of 350% lemre plus, thank you for asking. And no, I don't care how much that upsets your mom. She's not the boss of me, and it's your life. So you know, live it. So snuggle up and some suck already. Mm-hmm.

Yeah, I'm feeling so hosty today. TikTok's gone to my head. Let's get to suck it. [♪ OUTRO MUSIC PLAYING [♪ OUTRO MUSIC PLAYING [♪ OUTRO MUSIC PLAYING [♪ OUTRO MUSIC PLAYING [♪ OUTRO MUSIC PLAYING [♪ OUTRO MUSIC PLAYING [♪ OUTRO MUSIC PLAYING [♪ OUTRO MUSIC PLAYING [♪ OUTRO MUSIC PLAYING [♪ OUTRO MUSIC PLAYING [♪ OUTRO MUSIC PLAYING [♪ OUTRO MUSIC PLAYING [♪ OUTRO MUSIC PLAYING [♪ OUTRO MUSIC PLAYING [♪ OUTRO MUSIC PLAYING [♪ OUTRO MUSIC PLAYING [♪ OUTRO MUSIC PLAYING [♪ OUTRO MUSIC PLAYING [♪ OUTRO MUSIC PLAYING [♪ OUTRO MUSIC PLAYING [♪ OUTRO MUSIC PLAYING [♪ OUTRO MUSIC PLAYING [♪ OUTRO MUSIC PLAYING [♪ OUTRO MUSIC PLAYING [♪ OUTRO MUSIC PLAYING [♪ OUTRO MUSIC PLAYING [♪ OUTRO MUSIC PLAYING [♪ OUTRO MUSIC PLAYING [♪ OUTRO MUSIC PLAYING [♪ OUTRO MUSIC PLAYING [♪ OUTRO MUSIC PLAYING [♪ OUTRO MUSIC PLAYING [♪ OUTRO MUSIC PLAYING [♪ OUTRO MUSIC PLAYING [♪ OUTRO MUSIC PLAYING [♪ OUTRO MUSIC PLAYING [♪ OUTRO MUSIC PLAYING [♪ OUTRO MUSIC PLAYING [♪ OUTRO MUSIC PLAYING [♪ OUTRO MUSIC PLAYING [♪ OUTRO MUSIC PLAYING [♪ OUTRO MUSIC PLAYING [♪ OUTRO MUSIC PLAYING [♪ OUTRO MUSIC PLAYING [♪ OUTRO MUSIC PLAYING [♪ OUTRO MUSIC PLAYING [♪ OUTRO MUSIC PLAYING [♪ OUTRO MUSIC PLAYING [♪ OUTRO MUSIC PLAYING [♪ OUTRO MUSIC PLAYING [♪ OUTRO MUSIC PLAYING [♪ OUTRO MUSIC PLAYING [♪ OUTRO MUSIC PLAYING [♪ OUTRO MUSIC PLAYING [♪ OUTRO MUSIC PLAYING [♪ OUTRO MUSIC PLAYING [♪ OUTRO MUSIC PLAYING [♪ OUTRO MUSIC PLAYING [♪ OUTRO MUSIC PLAYING [♪ OUTRO MUSIC PLAYING [♪ OUTRO MUSIC PLAYING [♪ OUTRO MUSIC PLAYING [♪ OUTRO MUSIC PLAYING [♪ OUTRO MUSIC PLAYING [♪ OUTRO MUSIC PLAYING [♪ OUTRO MUSIC PLAYING [♪ OUTRO MUSIC PLAYING [♪ OUTRO MUSIC PLAYING [♪ OUTRO MUSIC PLAYING [♪ OUTRO looking into the life of one of the most just horrific humans to have ever existed on earth. Given the nickname of the vampire of Sacramento, Richard Chase would spend most of his life as a super creepy, mentally unstable nightmare for his parents and basically everyone else who met him. He would become the poster boy for the FBI's disorganized killer profile. Richard Chase was about as troubled as they come, but he also knew that what he was doing was wrong. As mentally ill as he was, I have a real hard time giving him a pass for a lot of what he did.

Keep that in mind as I ruthlessly mock him. While we used a few books and numerous sources, we leaned heavily on one book in particular, the, uh, called Vampire, the Richard Chase murders by Kevin Sullivan. Thank you, Kevin. Uh, not a lot of context needed to set this one up. In the timeline, we'll follow Richard Chase's short tragic life and his steady descent into just utter madness. With Richard Chase pretty much doomed to become a monster from the beginning, maybe. Before we get into it, we should note that a lot of the personal details about Richard Chase

and his super fucked up adventures before the murders come from interviews with friends and family and give some conflicting dates. We did our best to pick the ones we felt were most likely correct. Now let's get right into this story and hop into this week's Times Up timeline. We're marching down a time, some time line. On May 23rd, 1950, Richard Trenton Chase was born in Sacramento in Santa Clara, County, California. Just nine and a half months after his parents, Richard and Beatrice were married. They got, they got busy quick. And I feel like his terrible future trajectory begins right a birth. Or even before he was born, it began whenever he was named. When your father's name is Dick Chase,

and he doesn't understand to not also name you Dick Chase, after he was for sure teased growing up, you're fucking doomed. You're not an outstanding parental hands. Dick Chase, that sounds like a term of grubba. Horny single sorority girls would use to refer to heading out to some clubs with a sole purpose of getting laid. Come on, Becky, you're how it's hot as fuck.

Let's go. Let's start this dick chase. Woo! Not the best sorority girl in person there. The world into which Chase was born was very different from this one. Things were a lot calmer in America in general in 1950 than now in 2020. After World War II, the economy was booming.

A lot of jobs, good jobs to go around. And the generation that survived the war got busy making babies, resulting in a baby boom that would last from 1946 to 1960. Dick Chase Jr. would be a lifelong resident of Sacramento spending the majority of his life just a few miles from where he'd grown up. And Sacramento is emblematic of a national post-war feeling of optimism. It was for most solid town to grow up in in the 50s and 60s. The city of Sacramento has acquired a lot of nicknames over the years.

Gateway to the gold rush, city of the plains, city of trees, the big tomato, river city. America's most diverse city, the lemon plus meat grinder, capital of the sixth largest economy in the world, America's farmed a fort capital, almond capital of the world, a chameleon capital of the world, birthplace of the trans continental railroad and Mark Twain's favorite city of saloons. And those were all actual Sacramento nicknames except lemon plus meat grinder. I don't even know where that one came from. I don't know what it means. Big on those to Fina. That's some foul you put in my head.

On the years leading up to Chase's birth and in the decade following it in the 1940s and 50s redevelopment would define Sacramento. That would be the term most closely related to the city. After World War two, excuse me after World War two, urban cores nationwide were being carved up and transformed. excuse me, after World War II, urban cores nationwide were being carved up and transformed, and the lemon-puss meat grinder was one of those urban cores. Beginning in the 1940s, Sacramento would turn from a folksy western town into a center of urban development. Life for the Chases during this time was good. In 1952, Dick Chase Sr., old Papa Dick acquired a federal position as a computer specialist

at McClellan Air Force Base, while Beatrice Todd School. Following year 1953, Richard's sister Pamela was born in the same year that the family moved into their first house on King's Way, and 61 the family of four moved to a home on Wheat Street. This time, however, they would lose the home to financial troubles. And I know we're skipping pretty fast through his early childhood. Not much is written about the first 10 or 11 years of Dick Chase's life. Based on what we know about the following years, I'm guessing they were pretty quiet.

And that he didn't do anything terribly unusual. No arrests, no school incidents that we know of. He did participate in cup scouts for several years. He was a chronic bed wetter, but that was over by his eighth birthday. So seems pretty normal to me. He did pass each grade on the first try. So no serious behavioral or mental illness related problems that would hold him back a year or get him suspended.

He may have been abused a few times by his father in moments of anger when he was real young. On one occasion, when Richard was two, Beatrice said Richard's senior force fed their son, which caused him to vomit. And she said, sometimes Richard's senior took Richard Jr. and pitched him at the wall. I don't know the, I'm not sure those incidents really happened. I say may have been abused earlier because I just don't trust a lot of what Beatrice says, especially in regards to her husband, big dick, Papa Chase.

Why I don't trust her will become more and more clear as we move forward. Mr. Chase would not corroborate any such abuse claims. The worst parenting mistake he would later admit to was yelling at his son Richard when the kid was around 11 after he accidentally locked the keys in the family car. And really, is that a parenting mistake? I don't think so. I think it'd be weird to not yell at your kid for locking the keys in the car.

That's super annoying. Based on what I know of traditional 1950s American parental discipline stylings, it doesn't sound to me like Richard grew up in a home that was any more or less abusive than any other average home. If anything, his parents were far too permissive and did not discipline him enough. And you'll see why I say that soon. For the next two years, the family lived in a duplex on Valkyrie Way, and they purchased a home after that on Mont Clare Street.

And while money was never again a major problem for the Chases, other cracks would begin to appear in Beatrice and Richard seniors' marriage starting in 1962. According to court reports, in 1962, when Richard was 11 or 12, Beatrice and Richard senior began having serious marital problems. They were arguing in front of the children frequently and Beatrice was accusing Richard senior of using dope and of infidelity. And on two occasions, Beatrice accused Richard Sr. of trying to poison her.

This kind of shit is the beginning of why I don't trust what Beatrice says about Big Dick. Based on how the rest of the story plays out, based on some claims coming up soon that are incredibly outland atlandish, I do not believe that the poisoning and stuff ever happened. I do believe that Beatrice was suffering from undiagnosed mental illness, possibly schizophrenia, just a hunch based on upcoming information. Richard senior, aka big dick aka pop a chase aka pop a dick would later admit to authorities that he did sometimes drink too much. And then he also had problems handling money. He would deny the charges of infidelity and he would vehemently deny charges of ever poisoning his wife. Now, even if a poisoning never actually

happened, though, the mere accusation likely repeated often by Beatrice may have had quite the effect on young Richard's development. He would later have deep convictions, born of his own mental illness, that he was being poisoned or otherwise being hurt by family members and by all kinds of other people and entities. Besides the trouble in his parents marriage, Richard childhood seemed still pretty normal in 1962. He was still in Little League. He played for four years.

He had a solid amount of friends, was active in other activities. During sixth grade, some 50 kids showed up to his birthday party. So that sounds like a lot to me. And everyone according to some who were there appeared to have a good time. However secretly, unbeknownst to family and perhaps unbeknownst to anyone, but young Richard Chase,

Dick Jr. was already going down some dark path. By 1962, possibly as early as 1960 around the age of 10, Chase was already torturing, maybe even killing neighborhood animals, including cats. Sadly, the continual and horrific mutilation of animals would become a regular part of Richard's life. He also began to enjoy setting fire sometimes around,

or sometime around the age of 12. And I will say this, a lot of children do disturbing shit around the onset of puberty, especially it seems based on a lot of anecdotal evidence I've gathered over the years, boys, but then they seem to almost always grow out of it. Chase would not. He would double down on it. By 1963, Dick Jr. began to exhibit behavior that should have never been allowed. No part of me understands how it was allowed.

Beatrice later explained to investigators how difficult things were, with Richard already at the age of 13 saying, he was trying to cook for himself. He burnt pans and he would leave stuff all over it and big puddles on the floor. He never picked up or cleaned anything. He was up, stewing around and cooking and burning stuff all night long and it got to be vexing. We couldn't sleep in the house. He turned the PG&E Pacific gas and electric on and he turned it up so high, opened the windows and let the heat out and stripped off all of his clothes, lined on the couch in the living room. What the fuck? Maybe it was due to her mental health struggles, but I have to say, Beatrice seems like a shitty parent here. As does Papa Dick. How do you let a 13-year-old

just keep burning shit all the time and never forbid them from using the stove? How do you let them turn up the heat so high no one else can sleep? How do you let them crash naked on the couch? Who is running this shit show? If one of my kids cranked up the heat in the middle of the night or just left burnt shit on the stove, we have a heated discussion real quick. And it would start with something like, excuse me,

but did you just lose your goddamn mind and forget who the fuck you're living with? This dad does not play the blatant disrespect game. Actually, my kids see other kids acting like assholes and no one gets after him. They will literally say things to me like, what's wrong with their parents? Why are they getting in trouble?

Why would they let them get away with that? Yes! Love you, Codderman Roe, your solid folk. All that being said, I do realize that my kids are probably much easier to raise than Richard Chase Jr. folk. All that being said, I do realize in my case there's probably much easier to raise than Richard Chase Jr. was. As the years passed, Marital life would turn even darker at the Chase household,

Beatrice accused her husband repeatedly of having an affair with a neighbor. I don't think that happened. I wasn't there, never met him, but again, don't believe her. And I don't believe her because when the Chase family took a camping trip to Oregon, sometime in 1963 or 1964, Mrs. Chase confronted Richard Sr. about having a woman quote, waiting for him in the woods. Seriously,

she thought her husband had some kind of shrub slut hiding out in the forest, just dying to lay her back down on the dirt and get some of that sweet pop a dick. The Chase family campaign trip was ruined, like they cut it short and drove back to Sacramento. So you know what I mean about the mental illness stuff? Who planned to family camping trip and then tells their mistress to meet them for some sex campaigns? Get the fuck out of here. Hey, baby, my wife and kids are close by so I have to be kind of quiet. We reserved site 13 in the A loop at the lost creek campground by crater lake. I talked to the ranger He said there is a thick grove of pine trees between that side and the creek. I reserved you spot in the b loop site 22 There's a trail behind that spot. It will lead to the pine grove

I just mentioned bring a blanket laid out in the middle of the trees just after sundown I'll tell Beatrice that I need to find some sticks to make some s'mores with, I'll send the kids further into the woods to find more sticks, and then why I'd like to, or maybe even three minutes just to fucking the brush. Thanks for making the six hour drive each way this coming weekend for three minutes, maybe, of quiet dirt-dicking. It's nonsense. Beatrice is very paranoid. Beatrice Chase also begins to claim that her husband was annoying her all night in bed, whatever that means.

And then he was drugging her at night. Of course he was drugging her. How else is he supposed to be able to sneak off with his shrub slut? He's poisoning her, he's a noiner, he's drugging her, and he's probably bringing home some venereal diseases from his brush, Jezebel's. By 1964, Beatrice Chase had already seen two psychiatrists for her escalating marriage problems. In September of 1964, Richard Chase starts high school

at Mirolo Mahai in Sacramento. He's still to his peers, seeming like a normal kid. He's well groomed, fairly popular. I see photos of him at this age and he looks healthy, normal, looks happy. He's having normal interactions with friends, both male and female. Six feet tall weighs maybe about 150 pounds, making him pretty thin, which he's not thrilled about, but he doesn't let it get in his way much.

I get it. I was six feet tall and 135 pounds at one point in high school. I get to not thrilled part. His grades this time, slightly below average, season Ds, by a sophomore year, Fs do start to appear in his report cards from time to time, but he continues to pass enough classes to move on to the next grade every year. And it seems as if his low grades were due more

to a lack of work ethic and ambition than they were to any limited intellectual capacity. This will also soon reveal itself in the timeline. In 1965, after a fight with Papa Dick, Beatrice takes the kids, Richard and his sister Pamela and heads south to Los Angeles, where her mom lives. And then Richard's dad comes out eight days later and retrieves his son.

Mrs. Chase remains in Los Angeles with her daughter for another four months before also returning home. So, you know, not ideal. Lot of parental strife happening around Richard. Sadly, also not that abnormal. Devourses are rarely neat and clean and there are a lot of them. By 1967, the divorce rate in America would climb to 26%. Now it's much worse. 60% of couples who get married between the ages of 20 and 25 get divorced 36% of

couples who get married after the age of 25 are statistically likely to have their marriage also end in divorce. So what Richard experiences a teen, you know, painful, terrible, also statistically speaking, pretty normal, pretty typical. How Richard behaved as a teen, however, was becoming increasingly abnormal. At some point in 1965, 15 year old Richard started thinking he was one of the younger brothers of Jesse James fame. You heard me?

Yes, that did come out of nowhere. Chase didn't think he looked like one of the younger brothers. You know, that James gang was such a fun suck, by the way. Yeah, yeah. He thought he was one of the youngers. Beatrice said he checked a book out of the library and he got a poster made and he had his picture pasted in the picture for one of the younger brothers. Now he later on had some big poster on a whole bunch of them and was trying to sell them. He also wanted the cowboy hat and all that. He wanted a red hankerchief, which I did, which I did not buy him a cowboy hat, but he

wanted one. So okay, 15 seems little old to me to be playing pretend with that much conviction, that deeply. Had Beatrice been more mentally healthy herself, maybe she would have gotten him some counseling, not sure why his dad didn't do that, maybe living with Beatrice for so many years, through office barometer, for being able to tell what crazy looked like, not normal for your 15 year old to think that they're a member of the younger gang. Okay, so you didn't already also know that.

1965, Richard Chase began a relationship with a girl, given the fake name of Libby Christopher, so she could remain anonymous when interviewed about Richard years later. She was a couple years younger than Richard. They dated for several months. They wouldn't break up until early 1966 and she'd say that their sexual relationship never progressed beyond the preliminary stages of foreplay because Chase was never able to maintain an erection, had difficulty getting an erection. So here we go.

What is big deal? I lay the curse so much about Darth Pena's. I saw Shamcock not to be satisfied for plenty of hot sex. This is not good. This may be making me a little bit later. Thank you, Chicatilo. I've been a while since we heard from the world's worst spokesperson for a reptile dysfunction.

While his eD did not immediately drive Libby away, it was one of the things that eventually made her end her relationship with Richard, leaving him feeling pretty insecure. He continued to try and date in high school, but his inability to provide what was physically expected of him did not go away. And then each new failed attempt made it worse. And soon his dysfunction became common knowledge amongst his peers, who of course were super sweet and understanding about the entire situation and never teased him about it even one single time

I'm sure no one ever said stuff like hey look. It's dick chaser Ha I heard Sarah chase his dick right back into his body tidings on Saturday night come on up top Hey Richard, you care if I call you dick or like every girl you go out with kind of just call you limp Reservation for chase party of one sad, soft table is ready. I don't know. I just know that high schoolers, Busses Ball is pretty hard in the 90s. I have to think that based on stories I've heard,

it was a lot worse in the 60s. Like many misunderstood teens and also awesome adults Richard now turned to drugs to now his pain. Started using marijuana, fine. Not worried about that at all actually. He also started using LSD frequently That's troublesome probably not the right drug for someone who thought he was a member of the younger gang when he was not on Hallucinogens and on at least one occasion in high school

He also used meth. Yeah, meth always a solid choice for the unstable mind Chase's disposition began to change in 1965 and towards the end of his time in high school, many of his peers and family members. Remember him as being rude and considerate and disheveled to his appearance. He started letting his hair grow out, stopped worrying about basic hygiene, started spending too much time losing himself

and his increasingly bizarre thoughts. And I'm sure he was savagely beating all kinds of small animals as well. In 1965, he saw his first brush with the law when he was nabbed with some marijuana. He'd be ordered by juvenile court to work on the weekends. The arrest pissed off his dad and the two now started to fight a lot. Richard Sr., Big Papa Dick, criticized Richard Jr.'s lack of hygiene and his aimless approach to life.

And Richard Jr., Dicky Soft Surf, simply just didn't care what his dad thought. While they couldn't have been more wrong, neither Richard's dad nor his mom thought anything was really wrong with their son yet. Teens across the country were having similar arguments with their parents as the generational gap between parents and children widened in the 60s. As far as his parents were concerned, Chase was just a typically rebellious counter-cultured teen. But Richard was not an ordinary rebellious child of the times. He was a mentally disturbed, diabolical killer of the making, a homicidal time bomb waiting to explode on the unsuspecting people of Sacramento.

On June 6, 1968, Richard graduated from Mirolo, Mahai. His parents bought him a Volkswagen for a graduation present. It was time to enter the real world, and Richard decided he would enroll in college and become a student at American River College, a community college in Sacramento. His parents were super supportive of this decision. Had they known he was mentally ill, had he gotten and stayed on the right meds, his life might have worked out okay. In the summer of 68, he had a good chance as, you know, most other 18-year-olds is out of, you know, of making something of himself. Chase will remain a student at American River College, where he would generally pull a sea average until the spring semester of 1971 at which point he dropped out without ever receiving a degree.

But we're not ready to jump to 71. Got more 60s to discuss. Shortly after enrolling, Chase saw psychiatrists for the first time in the fall of 1968 for his inability to sustain an erection. The psychiatrist Dr. Phil Rossine, who had a successful practice in the suburb of Roseville, told him there was no cure for being a limp dick mama's boy in through him in a headlock, and then a full Nelson, and then gave him an atomic wedgie, ripping the elastic waistband off his undies before literally kicking him into the lobby, and telling his reception to take him to the dumpster and throw him away with the rest of the fucking trash JK Can you imagine can you imagine revealing something that you're really embarrassed about to your therapist like really opening up making yourself Vulnerable and then having them say something like sounds like your suffer from them. I don't know case of being a gigantic pussy Luckily, there's a cure. It's called manning the fuck up now Now get out of my office. Just look at your candy ass. Makes me want to throw up. No. The therapist suggested the cause of his erectile dysfunction was suppressed

anger or mental illness. And Richard did not like those options. So he chose to not continue with counseling. He wanted like so many people do a quick and easy fix for his problems. It required no real work or introspection on his part. You know, he wasn't counseling. He wanted like so many people do a quick and easy fix for his problems. It required no real worker introspection on his part. He wasn't angry. He wasn't mentally ill. He just needed a little pill that didn't require dealing with any feelings. 1969 Richard who I now suddenly want to refer to as dickard got a job. Dickard was employed for a brief period in 69 with the Retailer's Credit Association. His job involved typing and phone work and according to his mom, he did a very good job. At first, he wouldn't do a good job for very long thanks to his rapidly deteriorating mental state. It's almost like that psychiatrist

was on a something to hide this deteriorating state from his family. Richard left his parents' house in 1969 late 1969, moved into his own place with a couple of roommates located at 3831 and a Dale Lane as roommates were Cudd Evans, Demarky and Rachel Stadium. And these two would soon seriously regret letting Chase move in with him. I guess he cut his nickname, by the way. Don't meet a lot of Cudds. At least I don't. Anyway, Chase would move into Cudd and Rachel's house in February 1971 after they found Chase sitting on their front lawn. Three's three began to talk and somehow their conversation led to the three of them becoming roommates.

And of course, it wouldn't end well. When does finding some stranger sitting on your lawn and then inviting them to become one of your roommates ever work out? Once Chase was moved into the house, Richard's father gave him $50 a month for rent, a small price to pay for not having this maniac in his house, and then Chase worked odd jobs to make ends meet. Not quite 21 years old, living away from his family for the first time in his life, Chase smokes weed constantly, every day. And his attitude at the time is later described by his roommates to be uncooperative, inconsiderate,

and difficult to be with. Awesome. Sounds super fun. He also becomes intensely paranoid. After a few months in this new room, he boards up the door, like he literally takes boards and nails them across his bedroom door to keep anyone from getting in,

or out, I guess. So how does he get out? He knocks a huge hole in his closet wall with a fucking hammer for him to enter and exit his room through. And if you're asking, why would he do that? Why would anyone ever do that? You're not alone. He did it, he told his roommate so that no one can sneak up on me. What did Rachel and Cud think about all this? Right? Hey, Rachel, did you see how dickered

remodel is room? Yeah, that asshole literally boarded his door shut. What? How's he going to get in? Through the giant fucking hole he smashed open in the back of his closet, we might need to talk to him. He's completely fucked over our damaged deposit. Then shortly after this very unorthodox remodel, Rachel watched Chase lean out a window and wave a gun at someone coming up the sidewalk. This seemed to be last straw for Dicker's roomies and they asked him to leave.

You don't get to board your room shut and turn your closet into an escape tunnel and wave a gun at your window. It's strangers and not get a maybe you should leave talk, but chase refuses to leave. So they move out instead. And then I wish to have more details about exactly how or why this went down, but then Rachel stayed up his brothers and some of his friends. Now they moving with chase.

I guess maybe her name was still on the lease and the only way she could afford to leave was to have someone else move in and her brother needed a new place to stay or something. I don't know. But Dickards, new roommates, they have problems with him too. Of course they do. The state and brothers and their friends, they're in a rock band and they'll rehearse at the house and chase, not content to just listen, would join them in practice without being invited.

When they'd start practicing, he'd go grab a conga drum and he would just start playing and singing along and he was terrible. He was no good. The band would later tell investigators and they constantly tried to talk chase out of playing with them told him you know told him that they did not want him to play with them. And then that would lead to a huge argument and then dicker would get super pissed off and start saying crazy things and then they would give up and back down and just continue to let him join in. A fucking up their jam sessions was wasn't the only problem the new roomies had with Chase. He also liked to wander out of his bedroom nude while the guys had girls over.

You know, wave his, wave his limp dick around and impress the ladies. You get it, Lucifena? Like his previous roomies, these guys were like fuck Richard and they pressured him to leave. They made it clear that they couldn't stand him. They wanted him out in a May of 1971, Richard now 22, goes back to him with his parents again on Montclair Street, where they continue to support him hoping that, you know, he just needed a little time to get back on the right track. One way they supported him was by paying the tons of traffic tickets.

Chase was racking up. According to his mom at one point, he had 15 different unpaid tickets. And as a result, he lost his license. So then he bought a motorcycle and started to drive that instead Interesting. I didn't think it worked out that way. I didn't think that if a cop pulled you over or you're riding a motorcycle You know and you'd lost your license and then ask for your driver's license You just got to say well what license? This is a car. You silly goof. It's a motorcycle I'm sorry officer. I was under the impression that anyone of any age could drive these things anywhere at any time with little or no training. Uh, in May of 1972, Chase's parents separate. I'm guessing Beatrice's paranoia and their son had a lot to do with the marriage not working out.

Uh, Beatrice Chase was finally rid of her annoying poisoning, drugging, shrub slut fucking husband. of her annoying, poisoning, drugging, shrub slut fucking husband. The divorce is finalized in December. That year Chase also takes a solo trip to Utah. After only two weeks, he manages to get arrested for yet more traffic violations. And his car is impounded. Now the timeline's going to start getting weirder. While in Utah, Chase complains that the officers have gassed him. Yep, as police often do, he thought that gassed him

with some kind of secret poisonous gas and that the gas made him ill and he wants to sue the police. His dad talks him out of doing this before he embarrass himself and waste a lot of his parents' money. His mom sends him some money to pay off his traffic tickets and then Chase makes that a Utah after paying $180, which is a lot of traffic ticket money in 1972. This not-real gassing would completely destroy any faith Richard had in quote the system.

His paranoia is increasing. He is so clearly mentally ill. He's now convinced that powerful people are trying to harm him claiming he is sick from the gas. He starts having fits, beating his hands and feet against the wall. This goes on for months. At one point, he can barely sign his own name. Just damn you, police gas.

Little dick lives with his mom for the following year, working odd jobs, taking a talk into everyone, getting sick from being gasped by the police and generally driving Beatrice Crazy. Then on April 22nd, 1973, Chase is attending a party at a friend's house and things go further off the rails. He tries grabbing some random girls' breasts. Don't do that.

And then he's grabbed by a few guys and thrown out of the party, you know, for being a rapey creep. And then he comes back to the party a little bit later with the gun. Also don't do that. He forces his way back inside when some of the guys struggle with him. A 22 pistol falls out of his belt. The police are called and chase apparently resists arrests. Of course he does. He doesn't want to get gassed again. Right. He's just, he just started being able to write his own name again. And he's forcibly restrained by patrol officers and taking to jail.

The next day he complains of being seriously injured and wants to sue the police department again. How dare they hurt him when he resists arrest after trying to take a gun to a party. Now, after grabbing just a little random boob, he just live in his life. His dad again convinced him not to pursue another crazy lawsuit. Now Chase is more paranoid. The system is for sure out to get him. They won't even let him grab some party boob's.

Chase's troubles continue at home. Beatrice is arguing with her increasingly erratically behaving son more and more often. Sometimes now their fights turn physical. During one confrontation, Beatrice is about to call the police on batshit dicker when he grabs the phone out of her hand and then wax her in the head with it, which is fair. Mom calls 911, baby boy.

Mom gets popped in the noggin. I thought all moms knew that. After popping mom, Richard runs out the door, jumps over her fence and disappears. When officers arrive at his mom's house, they tell Mrs. Chase, they'll arrest him if she wants, but she, you know, she doesn't have to press charges, you know, take out a warrant for his arrest and she doesn't want to do that. Instead, she convinces Richard to go stay with his grandma down in Los Angeles for a while, let her deal with his antics.

You know, she just didn't want to be around him. So in May of 1973, 23-year-old Richard heads down to LA to live with grandma Nessie, Holly Nessie, or Nese, perhaps, where he starts to complain a lot about strange head injuries and other illnesses. I mean, how strong was that fake police gas? His hyperchondria is beginning to really manifest. Chase tries working for his uncle, driving a bus for handicapped children. Awesome.

Let's give the guy who gets tickets almost every day, a guy who's already lost his license before, a guy who's insane. Let's give him that job. Like basically, everything else Richard tries doesn't go well. He refuses to clean the bus. He keeps letting it get low on oil and it overheats. It doesn't matter that he's told over and over that it won't cost him any money to change the oil.

He just has to take it to the right station and they will take care of it, but he won't do that. So his uncle fires him. Dickard grandma is now really worried about him. He's nothing like the young happy child she knew before. After being fired from his bus driving job, she said he'd stay in bed for most of the day and then he roamed the house all night making all kinds of racket, leaving huge messes for her to clean up.

His late night roaming is more than chicken bearer, so she sends him back to his mom's house in Sacramento. Then his mom kicks him out almost immediately and he moves him with his dad. Then his dad kicks him out almost immediately, goes back to live with his mom. After a few months, his mom sends him back to Grand Manessi. It's like this big fucked up game of a potato. Nobody wants to be stuck, hold and dickered. After a few weeks, Grand Manessi sends him back to Sacramento again. According to his grandma, Chase's deterioration, both mental and physical, has noticeably worsened. He is terribly dirty. He did shit like leave literal bread crumbs everywhere, as well as pull apart newspapers and leave the scraps all over the house and never clean any of this shit up.

My God, I could not deal with this motherfucker. No way. Eventually, family or not, I would snap to say dick, a dick. Come here, buddy. I'm tired of your shit, bud. You have a choice to make right now. I'm gonna give you three options. Option one, you immediately start seeing a therapist, get a prescription for psychiatric medication, take your anti-psychotic pills, when you're supposed to, and start picking up after yourself.

Option two, get the fuck out of my house, I change the lock, and you never come back here again ever. Option three, you refuse options one and two. I come across this room and wrestle your crazy ass to the ground, tie you up, put you in a cage in the basement where I throw scraps of food at you three times a day and let you live like the disgusting animal you've chosen to be. In addition to being a weird slop, Richard also is making a lot of noise at night at his grandma's house more than the first time he stayed with her.

He blew a fuse left her home with no electricity when he's building a speaker for his car and then didn't do shit to fix it. Then a couple times she walked in on his room and found him standing on his head in the corner. When she asked him why the hell he was doing that, he said he was trying to get the blood to run back into his head. And he said his heart and his legs hurt. Weirdest of all, he started wrapping his head with a towel filled with orange slices. Believing that the vitamin C would be absorbed straight into his brain via diffusion Here to stovall, he started wrapping his head with a towel filled with orange slices, believing that the vitamin C would be absorbed straight into his brain via diffusion and help with the gas pain he was still dealing with.

So he is doing very well. He is thriving at Nannis. Glad no one called authorities and tried to have him involuntarily committed. And Nana caught him talking to himself on several occasions saying super creepy stuff like, Richard, you're a good boy, aren't you? Yes, you're a good boy Not even making up that quote. Then she finally kicks him out. She makes it clear to her daughter that he's not welcome back After he gets fired from a job at a local paint store

He'd only managed to hold for 10 days and then he uses what little money he has That he got from that job to buy a new 22 pistol So rightly worried about living with the dude saying and doing so much weird shit who has now just bought a gun, she puts this human train wreck on a plane back to Sacramento. When Chase returns, he goes back to divide in time between mom's home on Montclair and the duplex on Valkyrie way where his dad lived. And by dividing his time, I mean constantly getting kicked out of both places, more crazy hot potato. He also starts seeing doctors for head injuries and

stomach aches and he ends up getting referred to a neurologist who concludes that Chase had a psychiatric disturbance of major proportions. Ding, ding, ding, ding, nailed it. But because his mom is unstable herself and his dad doesn't believe in therapy, no one pushes him to follow the doctor's advice and get any help. His dad doesn't think he needs therapy. He thought his son's problems stem from misguided values and a bad attitude. He wasn't some super mentally ill young man who desperately needed to be institutionalized.

No, he just needed an attitude adjustment. Just attitude, those unbalanced brain chemicals back into a proper equilibrium. Maybe wrap those orange slices a little tighter next time, bud. Probably just need a little more vitamin C in your noggin. If only Richard could just get a job, shape up and start acting normal. His dad was sure everything would work out fine. And then when Chase doesn't just shape up, his dad kicks him out of his house again. And this time tells him to never come back. Neighbors reports that after this chase would come over, stand in the driveway and stare blankly

at his father's house for long periods of time. That is so sad. This guy needed so much help. Beatrice now living with her son at the house on Montclair later tells investigators that Chase now really begins to unravel. As the weeks and months pass, Chase grows more and more preoccupied with his physical condition. In addition to telling his mom that his head still hurt, he also starts to tell her that his head is changing shape.

And he's concerned about that. He thinks his head is changing shape now. And this is not the weirdest thing he tells her. He also tells her that there's something wrong with his nervous system. What's wrong? Well, let me tell you, I am dying to share this. He knows there's something wrong with his nervous system because his heart has stopped beating and his blood is no longer circulating. And he's worried that between a shapeifting head and not having a heartbeat, he could die,

which is fair. That's fair. Still haven't made it to the weirdest thing he's told his mom. He also tells her that he has quote, bones coming out of the back of his head. And when I first read all this, I had unsurprisingly a weird thought. What if all of this actually somehow was happening to him and just knowing it was taking it seriously? Like what if the Utah police had gassed him and now his heart isn't beating and he has a shape-shifting head that's kicking out some bone crumbs out the back? Like can you imagine? If you find this he's the right doctor like Mr. and Mrs. Chase, you're going to want to

sit down for this. Your grown son is suffering from the incredibly rare condition known as Cuckoo Betruse Syndrome. In rare cases when someone is dozed with secret police gas, their head will later start to change shape. Their heart will stop beating and they'll often shed a few headphones at night. It can usually be treated by wrapping a towel filled with orange slices around one's head, but not when the condition is this serious. The only way to cure this is for me to inject rabbits blood into Chase's veins.

That treatment, by the way, is going to come up later in this timeline, not kidding. I know if you think too hard about all this, it's incredibly sad and unfortunate, but holy shit I have laughed so much working on some of the notes for this episode this past week. Still not done. With the weird shit little dick is up to it. This point in his life, Chase begins to cut pictures of hearts and other organs out of a graze anatomy book and taped them to his bedroom wall. And his mom, Beatrice catches him studying them.

He wants to understand what's happening to him. Why is his head changing shape? Why is he shedding skull bones? That is so weirdly specific. One day during this day with his mom, everything else, I just talked about, there's been happening the doorbell rings and Mrs. Chase answered to find a fireman standing in her doorstep. Why is he there? Is there a house on fire? No. Dickard is called the fire department and told him he's a heart patient, whatever that means. And he's requested they come over and pick him up immediately.

Fireman knock on the door, Beatrice answers, they're waiting with a stretcher asking where the patient is, then Richard steps forward and says, well, here I am. And then the farmer are surprised to see a healthy looking, if somewhat thin 23 year old man. And since nothing is physically wrong with him, they just head back to the fire station. And Chase now begs his mom for help saying, mom, aren't you going to help me? I'm sick. I want to start testing everything.

Beatrice, to give her some credit here, does begin contacting more doctors. Dr. Donald Ansel examines Chase and tells him in Beatrice that Chase has a psychiatric disturbance of major proportion. And again, nailed it. Ding, ding, ding. But he still is not committed. On December 1, 1973, Chase walks into the emergency room at Sacramento's no longer their American River Hospital, his doctors.

He tells doctors he can't breathe, they're concerned. Then he tells doctors that he has quote, lost his pulmonary bane. It's supposed to be artery, but he tells me he's lost his pulmonary bane. They're concerned in a different way now. He also tells his doctors it's hard to stop beating because someone had stolen his pulmonary artery,

stopped his blood flow. Doctors know that Chase is tense, nervous, and wild-eyed. They think it's on his head, and then they check, and his pulmonary artery is, in fact, missing in the Sacramento police are called. To their credit, they find the thief in just two hours. There's those fucking guys at the party, who threw Richard out for just grabbing

a little bit of party boop. Not satisfied with merely humiliating him, now they have stolen his pulmonary artery. How could they do that? With help? Who is helping them? The Utah State Highway Patrol. They put a tracking device in Dickert's bloodstream when they gasped him. My God. No, that's, of course, that's not sense. Only Richard Chase would listen to all that and be like, yeah, that's exactly what happened. Now, the doctors were obviously very

concerned about Richard Chase's mental health. A psychiatrist on duty, Dr. Erwin Lyons writes in his initial report that the patient is a filthy, disheveled, deteriorated, and foul smelling white male. That's pretty harsh. The doctor's diagnosis is chronic paranoids schizophrenia. The hospital commits Richard into their psychiatric ward to thank God for two days before they start budding heads with his mom. According to Dr. Lyons report, Chase is discharged after a confrontation between staff and Beatrice. And as reported the incident, the doctor notes that Beatrice Chase is highly aggressive, hostile, and provocative.

Quickly adding, she is the so-called schizophrenic mother. Chase is discharged, even though his final diagnosis at discharge is also still chronic paranoid schizophrenia. So how unfortunate. I feel like if Richard just had one highly functioning parent who really understood and valued the importance of psychiatric care and circumstances like these, maybe he still could have been saved. Dude needed to be committed for a lot longer than two days, possibly for life. This is the kind of social program I have zero problems

with my tax money going to. Psychiatric care for extremely mentally ill people to keep them off the streets Out of the homes of families not equipped to deal with them so they don't end up on the street as a danger to themselves and others Sadly, although the preside although the precise cause of schizophrenia isn't known certain factors seem to increase the risk of Developing or triggering schizophrenia including having a family history of the. And since one of the symptoms is paranoia, it's also hard to seek out the right help. You might not trust the only people who can help you. And if your mom also doesn't trust those people and your mom is your primary caregiver,

you're in a real bad spot. And if your mom doesn't trust him because she's schizophrenic, because it's in your family tree. And I should reiterate that I don't know for sure that Beatrice was schizophrenic, but man, it sure seems like she was. I point to exhibit shrubsluts.

I had a stepmom growing up who's raised by a dyke knows schizophrenic who was in and out of mental institution. She had a terrible childhood. Her mom believed that she was trying to poison her, trying to kill her. Her mom also thought she could talk to angels. And then my stepmom, she began to exhibit paranoia when I was in high school. She thought everyone was out to get her. I would be grounded because she thought I was intentionally fucking with her by doing

stuff like putting dishes in the wrong places, even if they weren't the wrong places. Now I wasn't forgetful. No, no, no, I was sending her a message. She also thought my dad and sister and I were conspiring against her when she would lose them monopoly. Like a lot of people get mad losing them monopoly, but she thought I was a conspiracy. Then we came up with a plan against her where she couldn't win.

Stupid crazy shit. And she told me I should listen to her because she knew things other people didn't know, couldn't know, secret spiritual knowledge she had insight to. Skitsafranya is intense, and Richard Chase had an intense case of it. After leaving American River Hospital, Richard Chase had a brief period of improvement because he took medication.

Dr. Erwin Lyons had prescribed him medications, some anti-psychotics. He was in oxygen tank, he'd be given for panic attacks. Always super thin, Chase succeeded in adding about 20 pounds to his frame. He was looking the best he'd ever looked, exercised on a regular basis. Another bummer about schizophrenia is usually very treatable

with anti-psychotic medication. And the medication can work so well that the sufferers can think they don't need it anymore. That they're fine, they feel great. And then once they get off of the medication and they start to not feel great again, by that time, they don't wanna get back on the medication oftentimes because their paranoia has returned to sad, sad disease.

Beatrice Chase believed this upward swing lasted about two years, and then things got bad again because he stopped taking his meds and he started to use illegal drugs again. And this feels like a good spot to take a quick sponsor break, more story in a bit. Thank you for listening, Meat Sacks. We're now back with Richard Chase in late 1975. Richard Chase who is schizophrenic, also doing great on his meds, you know, was doing great on his meds for about two years. Now he's no longer taking them. Now he's smoking weed, dropping LSD, maybe hitting a little meth again from time to time.

Chase starts acting strangely again. Beatrice over here is her son carrying on a short and strange conversation with no one. Oh, shut up, he'd mutter. When she said, you stop talking to me like that. Chase would reply, I'm not talking to you. Sometimes she'd be talking to Richard when he'd suddenly declare I'm not going to do it. Creepy.

She thought he was addressing her, maybe talking about some menial chore or errand, and she'd say, well, now you're gonna do it, and he'd quickly respond, I wasn't talking to you. I think it'd be fun to start doing that to my wife, Lindsey at home. Dan, did you feed the dogs? Shut the fuck up already.

What are you saying to me? I wasn't talking to you! Sally, selfish, my wife, Lindsey at home. The end of you feed the dogs? Shut the fuck up already. What are you saying to me? I wasn't talking to you. Sally, selfish, my God, narcissist. I want you to take it down a notch. It's all about me, Edna. Also, Richard's back at it with the fruit. His brain is low on vitamin C, which everyone knows. You need to keep your skull from shedding.

And he's treating himself with some of his orange slices again. At least a dozen times, Beatrice claims she watched her son take some orange slices, wrap them up in a towel, place a towel around his head. What? Which I know, I studied, but that's just, I couldn't see that at about half. He also started ordering his mom to stop controlling his mind on at least two occasions, and he accused his sister Pam of also controlling his mind at least one time. It's poor bastard.

If only those two bitches would leave his brain alone, he wouldn't have to spend all his free time pushing fruit into his scalp. He also starts raging out around the house, he starts breaking windows, knocking doors off hinges, kicking holes in the walls. At times, Beatrice would call Richard's father to come over and deal with him, and then he would come over, but instead of deescalating the situation, his presence would just make Richard even angrier.

On one occasion, Big Dick's, presence upset Little Dix so much that he ripped the phone and his cradle completely off of the wall. His poor family, how often do they fantasize about Richard just running away and never coming back at his point? On another occasion, Chase meets his father outside after some heated words are exchanged

and they get into a fist fight on the front lawn in front of the neighbors. Can you imagine being in their neighbors? Who kind of suck, but also let's be honest. Kind of awesome. Mom, mom, mom, shit, come here, get quick. The two dicks next door, fighting on the lawn again. On another occasion, Chase slapped his mom in the face,

probably for control in his mind. And on at least one occasion, he hit her a nocturne down. Dude is completely out of control. By 1976, Beatrice began to notice even more strange shit happening with her now 25-year-old son. She finally witnesses some animal cruelty, and it will not be the last time. She catches him grabbing the family's dog, grabbing the family's dog foot and cutting it with a knife. Another time he squeezes her dogs, jaw so hard, he nearly breaks it and the dog can't eat for a few days.

Fuck that. One of my kids, my grown kids, cuts the dog. They are kicked out of the house and they are inside of the kitchen care or at least the locks are getting changed. I love you, but you're not welcome here. If I can't trust you, do not cut our dog. I can't trust you to not do God knows what other evil shit you got rolling around in your shape, shift in head. Also, I know easy for me to say, again, how sad. No one wants to abandon their kid. What if your kid is a sick monster doing shit like cutting the dog and squeezing it snout

to the point of candy? Beatrice decides that she needs to get him out of the house. Mm-hmm. But instead of taking him to a mental hospital, she rents him his own apartment on Cannon Street. In March of 1976, Chase moves in to his new place. And before we talk about how well he managed life on his own, or did not, sorry about this, but we do need to take one more little sponsor break.

Today's time suck is brought to you by the law office of Chase Kemper and Crowl. If your marriage, or your parents' marriage, has been inversely affected by shrubslets, you may be entitled to money. If your marriage counselor or divorce court attorney is not taken seriously, your claims of shrubsluttery, get the money you deserve. Call the law office of Chase, Crowley, and Camper by dialing toll-free, 1-800, they're out to get you.

The call is free. The advice is free. Call toll-free 1-800, they're out to get you. Your family and friends may not take the threat of shrubsluts seriously, but we here at the law office of Chase, Crowlin, Kemper, understand that shrubsluts are not only real, they're a goddamn epidemic.

Again, that's 1-800, they're out to get you. Okay, so that's maybe not a real sponsor. I don't know, You decide for yourself. You know, there probably is a class action suit and law firm for almost anything. Anyway, now let's examine how Richard managed living without anyone to supervise his insanity. It's a small cottage behind a main home and for a while, Chase keeps the place relatively clean. He's going in and out in his bicycle. He's not wrapping towels you know, towels for the orange slices around his head or cutting any ducks. Richard is on general assistance, a form of unemployment,

and doesn't need to worry about a job. So that's, I guess, good for him and his situation. Things are going, you know, well, for a little while because, back on his meds, kind of. No one prescribed him, and what he was taking, wasn't really meds per se, but he thought it was meds. And he thought what he was doing was making him feel better per se, but he thought it was meds and he thought what he was doing was making him feel better.

And I guess strangely it did make him feel better for a little while. He was drinking rabbit's blood, not even kidding. Before we go forward, I just want to say, don't knock it till you try it. Have any studies proven that drinking rabbit's blood cures schizophrenia? No, not to my knowledge, but have any studies proven that drinking rabbit's blood does not cure schizophrenia. No, not to my knowledge, but have any studies proven the drinking rabbit's blood does not. Here's kids of freinia. As far as I know, exactly zero dollars have been spent to fund studies looking into how rabbit's blood does or does not alleviate symptoms of mental illness. He really did start drinking rabbit's blood. We have just arrived at the

blood section portion of the vampire of Sacramento's timeline. Dicard began drinking the blood of rabbits. He'd purchased from an individual in Rio Linda, a 20-minute drive from Sacramento. Sources didn't say how he was drinking their blood, not at this point. When he uses more rabbit blood later, we'll get more details. Outwardly, he really does seem to be the best he'd been in years. He's talking to his dad again. Big dick occasionally comes by the cottage to play chess with the sun. One day his dad sees his rabbits. Rabbits, he assumes her pets and asks the son about him and then

Chase tells him straight up that he's eating them. And his dad doesn't believe him because he's used to his son saying weird crazy shit. He's poor son of a bitch. He married a woman who'd accused him of trying to poison her and cheat on her with some shrub sluts on a camping trip. His son gets into fist fights with him on the lawn on a bad day and thinks rabbit blood, you know, is a good thing to drink on a good day. On April 25th, 1976, not more than two months after living on his own, Richard takes the next logical step in rabbit blood treatment. And instead of just drinking it, he starts to inject it into his veins.

Yes, he is now mainlining rabbit's blood. It's like he's a heroin addict, but this is somehow worse. And he doesn't do this for very long because it turns out that injecting rabbit blood into your own blood is actually really, really bad for you. And he gets very sick, not just in his head. He starts vomiting shortly after one of his treatments. When his dad comes to check on him the next day, little dick is so sick, he can hardly move.

Mr. Chase drives his son to Community Hospital in North Sacramento where Richard is immediately admitted and attending physicians make the following observations. Patient states he has been poisoned by a rabbit he ate, gives a bizarre history of eating a rabbit which had battery acid in its stomach. I love how he doesn't want to tell them he's been injecting rabbit blood into his veins, so he tells them something just as crazy. No, no, I have not, no, I have not been not projecting in rabbi blood.

Have what? Listen, what happened is I, I ate some rabbi meat as one does and umby knows to me, the rabbi had been eating battery acid. Said a rabbi food. So yeah, I'm sick and angry at whoever thought feeding rabbi's with battery acid is a good idea. Everyone knows you're supposed to

wrap their heads and oarsizes when they're hungry. Once again, Richard receives a diagnosis of schizophrenia, paranoid type, and he's placed on a 72 hour cycle. On April 28th, Chase is then transferred to American River Hospital. We're according to the report. He stays until May 19th, 1976. Finally, he has institutionalized for a little bit. Admitting physician Dr. Frank Harper said, approximately three days ago, patient drank some blood and attempted to inject rabid blood into a system. So they got the truth out of him. States he needs to drink blood because his heart is weak.

Dr. Harper also noted that Chase was hostile but oriented to time, place, and person. While they're Chase with complain of heart weakness, and would say his body was falling apart and refused to participate in an exercise program or a 10 group therapy. According to staff members, Chase was almost nonverbal. At some point during his day, he just walked away from the hospital after doctors would not consent to release him as he was considered a danger to others. That sucks that he leaves the hospital. Luckily, they get him back a few days later.

Then they release him to another facility on May 19th. The final notations from Dr. Michael Buckley paint a dismal picture, uncooperative with treatment throughout the course of his hospitalization. Final diagnosis gets a freniaparinoid type. He's transferred to Beverly Manor, a long-term mental hospital. Chase, a visibly nervous entry in the institution, says, food poisoning is why I'm here when he's admitted. However, not long before state,

staff do notice a slight improvement in his condition, noting that while he initially was withdrawn, reclusive and uncooperative, he eventually participated more in programs and activities and socialized with other patients and with staff. But that period of calm would again not last long. An entry from the hospital records data June 20, read that Richard was suspected of killing and maiming animals. Two dead birds found outside his room with their heads broken off last Wednesday. The housekeeper saw Chase outside his room could not see what he was doing.

When he came in, he had blood all over him. So, you know, normal shit. When he was asked what the fuck he was doing, he said he cut himself shaving. Another bird was then found later by an orderly in his trash can, and another creepy bird related incident. He's found on the hospital grounds,

by some bushes surrounded by feathers and blood all over his face. What the fuck? Also, that is weirdly impressive. How is this six out of a bitch catching birds with his bare hands? You ever tried to catch a bird with your bare hands? I have.

I used to try and do that as a kid. It is very hard. Birds, if you have not noticed, tend to be pretty quick and very good at flight, which makes them quite hard to catch. There was a reason bird hundreds use shotguns and not sticks to kill them with. At this point, Chase believes he needs the blood from birds, or whatever poor animal crosses past to stay alive. He also, in spite of all this blood craze, does seem to get better.

In some ways, he starts playing basketball. It becomes more consistent communicating with the staff and peer groups. That's the weird thing that keeps coming up with the story. It is a weird thing. The more blood he drinks, the more outwardly better he does seem to a lot of people. On September 29th, 1976, Dr. Buckley notes, thinking much clearer as compared to time of admission, will discharge to be under care of parents

and follow up position, thought disorder improved, prognosis, fair, nope. We'll continue on same medications, diagnosis, paranoid schizophrenia, restorative, potential, guarded. And just like that, Richard is free. Although his mom is put in charge of him through a court ordered conservatorship that will last for 18 months.

And I do have to, you know, give it up to his parents here a little bit. Not easy to get a grown up involuntarily committed to a mental health facility for longer than 72 hours. Real hard to have somebody committed for longer than two weeks. So they are trying, currently in California, you know, because he was there for a little while, currently in California, 72 hour involuntary hold called a 5150 can be obtained if a person is deemed

due to mental illness, a danger to others or to himself or herself or gravely disabled. And if their deemed still dangerous to release after 72 hours by a psychiatrist, the doctor can ask for a 5250. That hold will keep somebody for 14 days, but it involves a committee review. The committed person has to appear before a judge within 48 hours into their stay. And well, there's just, it's like there's a whole bunch of red tape. It's not easy to have that done. Hard to have someone who has not been arrested for a serious crime involuntarily committed to a psychiatric care facility for a long period of time, because the protections afforded to US citizens via the first section of the 14th Amendment.

No state shall make or enforce any law which shall abridged the privileges or immunities of citizens of the United States, nor shall any state deprive any person of life, liberty or property without due process of law, nor deny to any person within its jurisdiction the equal protection of the laws. And that is awesome. Except in cases like this, then it sucks. No legal system is perfect. And to ensure that perfectly sane people are not illegally locked up for years in mental institutions against their wills, which did happen for decades in America. In the 19th and in the early 20th century, we now air so far on the side of caution that obviously dangerous and severely mentally ill people are often left to wander our streets.

I used to live near several of these people in Santa Monica, California, and next to traffic, it's one of the main reasons I do not miss living there. Not fun having severely mentally ill people sleeping in the alley directly behind your apartment. To have to walk your wife to her car because she's scared to be near them alone. And then to not be able to let your kids ever go out and play outside in the neighborhood, not sure what to do about this problem. Society, the bigger it gets, the harder it becomes to take care of everyone's needs. All right. So back to Richard being released, his divorce parents were together to set him up in an apartment apartment 12th of the Evergreen apartments at 2934 watt avenue. He's taken his meds again, meds not just rabbit blood and according to his mom he's easy to handle although she doesn't like seeing him move around throughout the day like a zombie

and because she doesn't like seeing him act like a zombie Beatrice chased something really really stupid that will lead directly to a series of murders murders that are not her fault i'm not saying that but this is fucked up according to a later police report in december of 1976 little dicks mom took it upon herself to wean him off of all of his medications. And by January 1977, he's no longer taking any drugs. This is such a classic case of the blind leading the blind, except it's the mentally ill leading the more mentally ill. Why, Beatrice? Azombi is better than a dude who cuts dogs and injects rabbit blood into his veins. Poor beatress will come to really regret this decision.

Office medication, not receiving follow up visits or outpatient care, not seeing a regular psychiatrist, Richard Chase turns into a ticking time bomb. He becomes nocturnal again, sleep him by day, roaming the streets of Sacramento at night. He creeps around to various places, including the country club, lanes, bowling alley bar. I'm sure the regulars and staff from that time have some stories. He meets some other people's age. Some of them end up staying with him in his apartments and then he can get rid of them and his dad has to run them off. What the hell was going on with these people when the when the vampire of Sacramento is weird it out by them. Dad, dad, dad, you have to help me. My new roommates are crazy.

Last night, I was minding my own business in the living room, trying to count how many bones had fallen out of the back of my head. When Tommy started talking to your rush, dude, it's nuts. He told me the police are trying to poison his water. As if I don't know, the police only use gas. Come on. A little dick. In addition to now being off office anti-psychotics,

also back to using hard drugs, meth, fuck yeah bro. It's exactly what this timeline needs. His paranoia returns, dicky orange slices is back baby. Beatrice had been handling his social security payments and taking care of his rent. Now Chase becomes convinced that Beatrice and Pamela are trying to poison him. Still glad his office meds ma. Again, what a nightmare for this family. Brent now chase become convinced that Beatrice and Pamela are trying to poison him.

Still glad his office meds ma. Again, what a nightmare for this family. When Richard is still on his meds, you know, he does pretty well and he gets off and starts going real, real bad. You know, he and his dad, when he was on his meds, we're going bowling at the country club lanes every Sunday, Richard would bring his son groceries. Now office meds, Richard bans his dad from the apartment, his mom and sister, you know, he thinks they're trying to poison him.

Uh, I don't know, he thinks his dad is who knows, trying to hog all the good rabbits, blood or something. In late 1976, Chase then shapes his head completely bald down to the skin. Awesome. I'm sure that's not terrifying to anyone. He starts going to his doctor's office all the time in late 76 asking for blood. I will tell the nurses and anyone else there that he's tired and not sleeping well and he needs blood. Come on, asshole. Stop hearting the blood. Dickards

thirsty. He only needs it because some asshole stole his pulmonary artery. The nurses consistently, of course, tell him to leave. According to one nurse, sometimes Chase would come by, see that the waiting room was busy and then leave without speaking anybody. So weird. Like he was going to a busy taco stand, seen how long the line was and then just being like, ah, not today, except it's a doctor's office and he doesn't want some sweet carnitas street tacos. He wants blood. Now he really starts to spiral out of control, desperate for the blood he believes he needs to live. He goes back to animals now, small birds, cats, dogs, rabbits, any small animal he can get a hold of he is now killing

and drinking their you know their blood. Around this time Dickards court ordered conservatorship expires. So now he can really do as he pleases not that his parents were doing a lot anyway by the early 1977. I think they'd given up in June of 1977 the 27 year old chase decides he wants to head east. His mom gives him $1,450. He moves out

of his apartment. His dad gives him or drives him to the bus station and buys him a ticket for Washington DC. This really feels like they just want to ship him across the country and just hoping never comes back. And I can't say I blame them. On his journey, Richard gets off the bus once he's out of California and he buys his silver grade 1966 Ford Ranchero from a man in steamboat springs Colorado for eight hundred bucks. Then homesick, he drives the Ford Ranchero back to the Evergreen apartments on WhatsApp do once he had just moved out of. He runs July 3rd, 1977.

This time he rents apartment number 15. I doubt his parents were thrilled. Oh, hey, Richard, you're, you're back already. Cah-hash, that's great. Yeah, I thought you were, you know, moving across that country, moving across that country, like clear across it, like the whole way. But now you're back in the same apartment building. That's awesome, after just like four weeks, so cool. As you can imagine, little dick is not the best neighbor.

One of his evergreen neighbors, Linda Dillon, recalls him being weird as fuck. She would later tell investigators, she would see him walk around the complex with his mouth hanging open often dragging one foot Probably some kind of gas side effect maybe a side effect not get enough vitamin C or rabbit's blood She said she tried to engage him when she'd run into him. She'd say hi try make small talk. He wouldn't respond And then one time he wanders into her apartment uninvited

Remember they had never talked only to leave immediately after seeing other people were there so weird When Chase finally does talk to her, it's when he corners her in the apartment parking lot and asks her for a cigarette. Then when she gives him one, he demands more. So she gives him the whole pack. She said he had a strange blank look on his face that really creeped her out.

Another day, she saw him bring two dogs in a cat into his apartment and then never see them again, not good. I think we can guess what happened to those animals. Then even more disturbing one day, she sees him wandering around the apartment complex carrying a shotgun. Yep, it's going for a casual stroll around the apartment complex common area,

carrying what she and other residents presumed to be a loaded shotgun, which was not technically illegal since he wasn't pointed at anyone or many seen anyone with it. This made Linda and all the other residents, obviously a bit uneasy. The apartment manager talks to Richard, asked him to at least put the gun in a blanket if he won't get rid of it.

And he apparently complies. So now he's just walking around the apartment complex with a shotgun under a blanket. And how uncomfortable was that conversation? Hey, Richard, how's it going, buddy? Okay, okay, it's okay. Been drinking enough, that, that, that, that, I'm keeping the bones on my head. Ah, okay, that's good. That's good, bud. Hey, you know, always good to keep your, keep your, you know, bones in your head and make sure that no one takes your pulmonary artery. Yeah, yeah, yeah,

that too. That too. Hey, about the shotgun. Do you think maybe you could just keep in your apartment? Let those, you top of the list police gas me again. I don't think so. Okay, Richard, what if I gave you a blanket and you just put it over the gun? And that way, when the gas police come for you, you can get to jump on them. Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, I like it. Oh, this guy's your neighbor.

An authorities won't take care of him. Do you at least consider killing him, not killing him, or kidnapping him? Maybe just driving him a thousand miles away. Then just releasing him in the wild, just kind of like live trap in a raccoon or something, or a skunk. And then you just release it somewhere else. The summer of 1977, 27-year-old Richard kills both of his mom's dogs and kills one of her cats.

We think we're probably sure. He is the son from hell. When his dad confronts him, Dick Jr. denies this later on when he doesn't actually or while he actually doesn't admit to killing them, he does tell his mom when she confronts him about it, the dogs belong to him and then he has a right to do what he wants to do. So that makes him look pretty guilty. And then this next thing I'm going to tell you makes him look really guilty. Apparently his mom had more than one cat and he didn't kill him all that first time. A little while after that one afternoon, Beatrice hears him knocking on the front door. She doesn't seem right away, but she assumes it's her son, so she doesn't open it.

Can't blame her. They had another disagreement about something. She was purposely avoiding him. I guess this was a regular occurrence. The next thing she hears is a sound of a gun, loud bang. Opening the door, she sees Richard holding her now dead cat by the tail. He had just shot it in the fucking head on the front porch. Blood is splattered all over the place.

As Beatrice stares at him, Richard wipes some of the cat's blood on the back of his neck. What happens next, sources don't say, I'm guessing she did not hug him and invite him in for dinner. It also doesn't appear that he got in any legal trouble for the incident. So she didn't call the place. I'm guessing he just took off. And he also didn't go to a mental hospital. So she didn't call them either.

Let's do needed to be committed for life. Shortly after this terrible incident on August 3rd, 1977, Chase finds himself just sitting in the hot sun along a rocky area of pyramid lake Nevada, some 200 miles from Sacramento. What's he doing there? Clamsley was hunting. And I guess he was in his own way. of Pyramid Lake Nevada, some 200 miles from Sacramento. What's he doing there? Clams use hunting. And I guess he was in his own way. He ends up completely naked, alone,

and totally covered in blood. Just chilling. Just vibing outside. Approximately 1.5 to 3.4 miles away and across the lake sits his Ford Ranchero. Inside the vehicle, there are two rifles, a 22 in a Marlin 3030. Both weapons have blood on them,

as does most of the inside of the vehicle. There's also a blood-filled white bucket with a liver inside of it. Fun. Earlier that morning, he got in his truck, stuck in some sand, and then a witness named Carmen Toby Sr. watched Richard leave the vehicle, set out towards what he called the pinnacles area with a dog.

The way he did it, weirdered Carmen out, so he called the police, and then the Bureau of Indian Affairs, they sent officers Charles O'Brien, manual subore and Leland Johnson, along with tribal officers, Leroy Phoenix, and Edward Crutcher to respond to the call. At this time, officer O'Brien later wrote in his report, I started to scan the area with field glasses. And as I looked to the south, I saw a white male, subject, squatting in the sand, watching us. He was approximately one half to three quarters of a mile away from us.

He was completely newt. I found him very attractive, and I loosened my belt buckle enough for me to unzip my pants and access my penis, which was becoming a wrecked. As I watched the naked man across the lake, I began to slowly and passionately, manually pleasure myself. As I began to approach my climax, I told my fellow officers accompanying me on the call to please look away and they obliged. I finished, wiped my hand, I want I believed to be some deer grass, sifted my pants,

tightened my belt, and then we approached the subject now, not as an object of carnal desire, but as the possible perpetrator of numerous criminal acts. No, wait, wait, wait, wait. No, he didn't know. He didn't write all that. Now, he wrote, he wrote all of that up until senior Richard nude. And then I wrote the rest. That's what happened there. What he wrote after seeing Richard nude was officer Johnson and subori started after him on foot, subject then started running toward the lake. Remember, he's butt naked, with officers in foot pursuit and covered in blood.

Tribal officers, Phoenix and Crouchers started out to head this object off. The officers were equipped with the four wheel drive vehicle. With a minute's little dick is apprehended, Chase, despite the sanity of his appearance, speaks clearly to the officers and has no trouble letting them know his correct name, Agent Address.

When asked about the blood covering him and his truck, he does suddenly seem confused, maybe evasive. Officer O'Brien reported, I asked Mr. Chase where all the blood on his face came from. He told me that the blood was seeping from his skin. I asked him some further questions, which he would not answer. I then asked him again about the blood on his face and body. He told me then that he had shot a deer. I asked him where and when and he told me Colorado and May. Okay. Okay. The dog accompanying chase that morning was

now missing. And when questioned about it, he said he didn't know where the dog was. The investigators also noticed he was wearing a knife sheath and that the knife was missing. After a brief struggle, Chase is arrested and held while the blood and liver found in the ranchero are tested. O'Brien placed a call to the US attorney in Reno and informed him of the situation. The US attorney advised the officers to arrest Chase for unlawful possession of a weapon and bringing an unlawful weapon across state lines.

They placed him under arrest, give him his Miranda warning, and then book him in the Washu County jail. When the lab reports come back, the blood and liver are determined to be from an animal and Chase's released. Sources don't say what kind of animal deliver belong to. I'm guessing it was that poor dog.

So back in the world, he goes again. As insane as the circumstances of his arrest are, they don't have a ton to charge him with. They didn't give him back his ranchero. There was an issue with this registration. So Chase now calls his mom, his poor mom, lies about the real problem, tells her it's all a big mix up. You know, he just killed some rabbits.

He got a little bit of blood on himself and he was mistakenly arrested. Beatrice and calls, you know, her son's dad and Papa Dick drives the sparks and have added a pickup of son and Richard gives him the same bullshit story. And I find this really interesting. Yes, Richard Chase Jr. incredibly mentally ill, no doubt about it. But he clearly knew what he was doing was wrong. At least you knew it was illegal, otherwise why lie to the police? Why be evasive?

Why lie to his parents in moments like this? Why try and conceal his terrible actions? He reminds me of blatantly mentally ill people in the street I've given food or money to over the years. One moment, they're talking to somebody who's not there, arguing with voices in their head, and then the next comparatively, extremely lucid. Thank you me for the money, look at me right in the eye,

sometimes asking me for more money, you know, maybe saying God bless you, clearly very mentally present with me in this moment, and then I walk away in the babbling, starts again. With Chase, I think how much of his horrible behavior could you blame on mental illness? All of it, some of it, none of it. You know, if you're hearing voices in your head, if you're paranoid and you think people

are out to get you, if you think your pulmonary artery has been stolen and you need your pet blood because your heart isn't beating, but you also know that killing pets is very wrong. How responsible are you for killing the pet? How much of a pass should the mental illness give you? Who's responsible for Chase's behavior? Who will be responsible for the murders he soon going to commit? Him? His parents? The psychiatrist who previously signed off and releasing him back in this

society. Soon after his dad picked him up from jail, brought him back to Sacramento, Chase travels back to Sparks and obtains the release of his car. He has to prove that he owned the car and replaced his expired Florida license tags, not sure why he had those or why it had those. Ms. Mischia Louise of the Washington County Sheriff's Department handled Chase's claim. Although she reported that Chase looked raunchy every time he showed up, he also was calm and courteous according to her. After numerous attempts, Chase is finally able to sort everything out, get his rancher back.

By September of 77, Chase's desire to drink blood had increased significantly. He began obtaining dogs on a regular basis, both by stealing people's pets and purchasing them to satisfy his sick desires. This dude has become such a ghoul. On October 1st, records show that Chase bought a dog from the SPCA for $15.90. On October 10th, 1977, he bought another dog from the SPCA for the same price. In October, November, Chase went to the home of a lane mayor to purchase a dog. The advertised price was $25.00, Chase tries to talk her down to $23.00.

She won't lower the price. He grumbles about half and to spend the extra two bucks. A lane later tells investigators that Chase seemed normal, but that the dog did not want to go with him. God, that poor dog. All these poor animals. No one ever sees any of these animals again after they go into his apartment.

The dog's tags are later recovered from his apartment. This guy was a fucking canine serial killer before he became a human serial killer. I can't recall reading about someone who did something similar to this, who so methodically sought out and killed dogs in this way. Ready for some more sadness? The rest of this timeline just keeps getting worse.

In mid November of 77, Chase responds to an ad for Labrador puppies, $10 a piece. At this point, the initial research, by the way, Bo Jang goes, let himself outside to go for a walk and by let himself outside, I mean, he brusely kicked a hole through the wall and then blew off some steam by Molly and a jugger. The seller, a Mr. Daniel Owen said he returned home at 4 p.m. found Chase staring over his back fence. Chase introduced himself as a breeder, asked if he could get a two for one price. Owen's agreed, Chase then took two.

Owen thought it was odd that Chase, supposedly a breeder, didn't pay any attention to the sex of the puppies he picked. Mentally ill or not, Chase is a fucking monster. Also in mid-November, Chase stole a dog belonging to the Sunsets family and wasn't content with simply killing and mutilating the dog. When the Sunsets placed an ad in the newspaper, Chase called and taunted them, giving details that only the owner of the dog would know and then hung up. Once again, the dog's tag and collar

were later found in his residence. Was doing that part of his schizophrenia or in addition to being schizophrenic. Was he also just a huge piece of shit, a morally bankrupt sadistic asshole. It's not like being mentally ill, just means that if you weren't mentally ill, you'd be an amazing kind person. Chase would later admit to taking many of these dogs back to the department and hanging them and then drinking their blood and eating their flesh raw. On December 2nd, 1977, Chase enters big five sporting goods and purchases of Stoker arms, Luger style, 22 caliber pistol. Awesome, that's what this dude needs, another gun.

This timeline needs more guns and more myth. There was a two-week waiting period before Chase to be permitted to own the gun. When asked whether he was mentally ill or had ever been a patient in a mental hospital, Chase said no. And because it was 1977 and convenient national computer databases didn't exist yet the sporting goods store employee had no way to prove Chase was lying He pays $69.99 cash then asks his mom to buy him a holster

She refuses Linda Dylan who would soon be leaving the apartment complex because Chase scared the shit out of her, could call Linda, stated later that she heard shooting inside Chase's apartment on at least two occasions. Chase would later confirm the saying that he was shooting at the voices he was hearing. This guy is cartoonishly insane. On December 22nd and 23rd, Chase picks up some copies of a local newspaper Sacramento B and keeps pages with articles on singles and dating and circle some ads offering free dogs. What a weird combo He wants dogs for their blood and also maybe to sneak in some dates and be finding girlfriend

Can you imagine going on a date with this dude? So Richard, what do you do right now working in a blood bank? Oh Cool, are you like a lab tech or something I catch and hang the dogs? I'm sorry. I'm sorry. What was that? I catch and hang the dogs. I'm sorry, I'm sorry What was that? I catch and hang the dogs. I should the voices. I make sure mom doesn't poison me anymore I have to keep my blood moving. Someone steals my pulmonary artery again. I could die at least my school shed A are you too ready to order? I'll have some fresh orange slices wrapped in a towel with a glass of dog blood, please Richard had mentioned to his mom that he wanted to coat and his dad picked him up a few days

before Christmas, drove into wine stocks, Sacramento based apartment store, purchased an orange down parker, his sunlight. That day, Papa Dick later reported that Richard seemed all right, but after the purchase was anxious to leave. Over the next month, Richard's senior spoke to his son several times and didn't hear anything about the health problems that his son had complained about so frequently before. He was hopeful that his son was getting better again. He wasn't.

But again, weird that he seemed more normal to people when he was drinking blood. He was about to get way worse. He was just days now away from committing his first murder. Richard begged both of his parents to come to their homes for Christmas and neither would allow him to come over. Cannot blame them one bit. All this guy does is ruin shit for people. Beatrice would later tell the district attorney,

I felt awful about not inviting him over for Christmas, but I did invite him to go out with me. I took all his gifts and a lot of good things up there for him to his apartment. It wasn't like being with the people that he wanted and loved. I don't know, I hope that he loves. According to Holly, Richard grandma,

Richard also called her over and over again, begging to come home for Christmas. No one wanted this motherfucker in their house. When Beatrice visited him in his apartment, he did seem happy to at least have that. He said regarding the presence you brought him, all these for me. Later when they returned to take him out to dinner,

he also seemed pretty normal. He was dressed in new clothes. It looked good, but of course he wasn't good. On December 26th, Chase purchased an additional box of ammunition. Then a day or two later, he would fire it at a neighbor's residence. And then shit would really hit the fan. On December 29th, despite appearing normal to family, only a few days before Richard Chase, the vampire of Sacramento murders his first victim.

Crazy that we have just now arrived at the first murder. This has to be the most insane serial killer story I've told so far in terms of what the person did before killing their first person. This tale might be more insane so far than Albert Fish's life was before he first killed maybe drinking dog blood and juxtaposing rabbit blood into his veins might be crazier than eating some peanut butter on drinking hot apple cider getting your fat bottom spank bloody with a cat and that tail showbiz. On December 29th, the 51 year old white man named Ambrose Griffin was just picking up

the last of his grocery bags when chase fired two shots at him out of his car. One bullet entered Mr. Griffin's chest and killed him and then chase sped away in authorities are baffled. They couldn't begin to guess at what the motivations behind this crime was. I'm not sure Chase understood his motivation. On January 5th, 1978, Chase collected a trophy of sorts when he buys a copy of the Sacramento Bee that has an article about the murder of Ambrose Griffin. To add to his budding taste for murder, his inner arsonist is also screaming to be let out. On January 16th, he started to fire in a garage in the

3,000 block of what Avenue, of what Avenue, excuse me, lighting some newspapers that were sitting on a shelf, the fire was discovered quickly and put out and he wasn't caught. Why do you burn a random garage? According to him, he believed that people in the neighborhood were spying on him. Of course, he believed that. And he wanted to drive them away. Oddly, just a few weeks after shooting a stranger dead, he knocked on the door of his target residence to make sure that, you know, knowing what died. Also odd, he managed to seem somewhat normal to his family in early 1978.

Few days after the fire, Chase mentioned to his father that he wanted to go rock clock collecting and the two made plans for a father son outing. On January 21, Mr. Chase picked Richard up and the two in hiking and rock collecting, Richard seniors said his son did not act bizarre, said nothing unusual. On January 21st, Mr. Chase picked Richard up and the two when hiking and rock collecting Richard seniors said his son did not act bizarre, said nothing unusual. He made no complaints about health, no arguments, and that they got along well together.

Story is so weird. Then on January 22nd at 1am, just a little over 12 hours after rock collecting, Chase breaks a window at 30, 40 watt avenue avenue crawled inside and set fire to the drapes of the Nelson residents. Again, he checked to see if anyone was home first. The fire department was called quickly and they put out a fire that had only spread to a speaker cabinet in the carpet. That evening Chase visited his mom and grandma at his mom's house and neither woman asked him to leave, which was rare. They thought he looked fine. And his grandma even gave him $10 before he left, as he was leaving, Richard asked his grandma about her dog.

How was it? Let it up and up to. Huh. He's probably fantasizing about killing it, needing it, and drinking his blood. They had no idea what he'd been up to. On January 23rd, Chase would finish his descent into complete and total monstrosity. He woke that morning, left his apartment on what avenue and headed east on foot towards Bernice Street. He was wearing a blue jacket and carrying a loaded semi-automatic 22 in a pair of rubber gloves.

When he came to 2909 Bernice, there was no car on the driveway, so Chase went around in the rear of the house and found Chase on the back porch. It was between 9 and 10 a.m. Chase saw her through the window and blurted out, excuse me. He then sat on the porch for the next few minutes. Miss Layton wasted no time calling the police and a few minutes later, Chase left. Jeannie would soon learn how very lucky she was to have survived this encounter. From there, Little Dick walked north, oddly staying on Bernice, even though he understood the police have been called and decided to pay the Edwards residence at 2-9-2-9 Bernice visit.

This time the house is empty. Umby knows to chase, the Edwards were on their way back home by the time Chase started his burglary. Chase entered through a rear window, and once inside, he went through some drawers and boxes looking for God knows what. Maybe some rabbit blood, maybe some fresh oranges.

Now he's looking for money, money he probably wanted to use to buy rabbits blood or oranges. Within minutes, Chase had $16 at which point he began loading and bag with other valuables. Then he took a piss in a drawer filled with clothing. Then he took a shit on one of the Edwards kids' beds. Then the Edwards came home. Chase fled out the back window, jumped over offense, and Mr. Edwards ran after him. As the two men ran through the neighborhood,

Edwards kept yelling at him to stop. At one point, Chase yelled back, I'm only taking a shortcut. That really cracked me up for some reason. Sorry about taking a shit on your kids bet. I was just trying to take a shortcut. Chase lost Mr. Edwards, but only temporarily. As Mr. Edwards returned home, got into his car and then spotted Chase again on what avenue.

If only he could have ran over the son of a bitch and killed him. No, Chase was quick and escaped again. Soon Chase was back inside his apartment, but only long enough to change his jacket. He wasn't done fucking up people's lives. I was going to kill again. At approximately 11.45 a. AM, Richard Chase made his way to a parking lot, the parking lot of pantry market wearing his new orange parka.

He's extremely dirty, has some type of crusty substance around his mouth, Richard Chase, he's doing relatively good. So at high school friend of his Nancy Westfall, spots him in the parking lot before parking her car and entering the store. She doesn't recognize who he is. No sooner has she started shopping and she hears a man's voice behind her calling her

name. It was of course, Chase. As she turns around Richard asks, weren't you on Kurt's motorcycle when he was killed? She has no fucking clue what he's talking about. She doesn't know who Kurt is. This guy's brain is so scrambled. She says no. Ask him who he is.

He then identifies himself as Count Dicke, drinker of dog blood. No, he says his name is Rick. And she says, you're rich Chase. And she says, yeah, you're Nancy Westball. And then he nods, turns, walks away as one does when you run into an old friend. A few minutes later, Captain Crazy Pants approaches Nancy again. And she asks, what have you been up to, Rick? And instead of answering her, he just replies with, where you going? Again, as one does when you just started to talk to someone you haven't seen in 10 years. She gestures towards the cash register and says, and he says to the bank, she

says, yeah, he asked her if she has to run a check and she goes, no, I do it for work. What a very confusing conversation. Nancy, who later remarked how filthy Chase was was staying close and estranged crust around his mouth had only one thing on her mind at this point, getting away from this maniac. Good job, Nancy. Wait, to follow your instincts. She pays for her items. Chase stands behind her with only orange juice to purchase. Of course, he's drinking orange juice. As soon as Nancy finishes checking out, she hurries towards the door. Chase calls out, hey, wait, wait, wait. But Nancy has no intention of waiting. Like Jeanie Landon, Layton, she would be so glad. She only had an uncomfortable

interaction with Richard Chase Jr. that day. As she backs out of her parking space, Chase catches up with her attempts to grab the passenger door handle, misses it by about a foot as she speeds out of the parking lot. Driving away Nancy looks in her rearview mirror and for a second, watch as Chase just stands there looking in her direction before he turns and walks away. Meanwhile, only a few blocks away. Teresa Wallin. Not good. 22 walks out her back door at home where she and her husband live at 2630, Tai Tioga way. She walked through her backyard continued out the back gate waited for a bit and

then also entered the pantry market. The checker who knew Wolland said she was in the store between 10 30 a.m. and noon. A pretty girl Theresa had been married to David Wolland for almost three years and was three months pregnant. After leaving the store, she walks straight back home. Her husband employed as a truck driver at National Linen, had left about 6.30 that morning while she was still asleep. Theresa, a state worker, had the day off. She would soon, you know, see Richard as well and not be nearly as lucky as Jeanne and Nancy had been.

Back to Richard, he watched Nancy hold and drive away from the pantry market, then turn and began walking towards Tiogaway. Or Tiogaway. He passed through a small park that immediately turned left and walked across the front porch of Richard and Sheila Eastlick at 2710, T.O.G.A. Richard Eastlick, how many dicks are living in Sacramento this time? Who can watch television in his living room immediately gets up. He's a thin, dirty, creepy white male wearing an orange ski jacket heading towards Fulton

Avenue. Two doors down towards Fulton Avenue sat the wall in home. Teresa Wallen back at home from the supermarket is busy cleaning. She'd left the front door unlocked, which was normal, especially during the day and her usually safe neighborhood. What happened next would sadly be far from normal. The front door, flies open, Richard Chase pulls out his 22 pistol. He aims at Teresa, who's carrying a white plastic garbage bag out of the house, seeing the

weapon she throws her right arm up in a vain attempt to protect herself. Chase fires the bullet, passes through Wallentand near her wrist and grazes her head. Then he quickly fires again and the next shot slams into her cheek, breaking her jaw. Chase then fires a third and final time. The last bullet pierces her brain renders her unconscious. Why her? Chase would later tell investigators that he just wanted to kill her. It could have been anybody. With Walla Naya dead and lying on the living room floor, Chase puts on rubber gloves, drags his victim to a rear bedroom. Leaving her on the floor, Chase pulls her sweater and bra

above her breasts, pulls her pants and panties down to her ankles. He takes her left leg, angles her to the right, bends it, exposing her pubic region. Then after taking a knife from the kitchen, he begins to mutilate the young wife and mother to be. This is so horrific. According to court reports, Richard attacks her organs, slices her pancreas in half, cuts her spleen out of her body, investigators find cuts on her stomach and liver, parts of her large and small intestines are pulled out of her body. Investigators find cuts on her stomach and liver, parts of her large and small intestines

are pulled out of her body. Both of the kidneys are cut out of their proper positions, one nearly cut in half. They recover one of the kidneys bizarrely placed inside her chest. A portion of her lower lung completely sought off. Their stab wounds in her heart. They think that most of this was done before she was dead. Thank God she was at least unconscious. While doing this, Chase used an empty yogurt cup

or uses an empty yogurt cup and fills it with blood then drinks her blood from that cup. He also stabs Teresa through the left breast once superficially, then again through the nipple and then onto the lung, thrusting the knife three times through the wound. Still not done, this fucking maniac places dry dog shit he'd found in the backyard in her mouth.

Can that be blamed on mental illness or does he just hate women? After defiling Teresa, he walks into her bathroom, washes the rubber gloves, wipes the knife with a scarf, washes it, lays it underneath other dishes in the dish rack. So weird. Leaves her body with literal dog shit in her mouth, but makes sure to put the murder weapon in the dish rack. Chase then leaves to the back door, exits the property to the back gate, goes home and watches some TV like none of this shit just happened.

Meanwhile, David Wall and Teresa's husband is on his way back home from training a new driver at work. He clocked out around 5 p.m. headed to slick will's bar at Folton and Cottage with co-worker. After splitting two pictures of beer, the two men called it a night and then David Wall and got into his car for his short drive home. Just before entering and having his life permanently changed for the worse, David flipped on the port slide to give him some light, seeing that the house was entirely dark inside. As he stepped into his home, he discovered that not only was the house dark, but the stereo

was plain. David immediately noticed there was garbage all over the front room. He called out to Trisa, but received no answer. And then their German shepherd Brutus came up to him and was acting strangely. I cannot believe that Richard left this dog live. He also spotted what he thought was a circular patch of oil on the floor, followed some additional spots leading to the master bedroom. Rounding the corner to the bedroom, he was met with the lifeless and mutilated body of his wife. He looked only long enough to see a large wound in her stomach, her tongue hanging out, and her eyes open.

Fuck! He starts screaming. He runs from the room, calls his father. His brother, John, answered the phone. He tells him what's happened. They rush out of the house, and then he goes to the next door neighbor's house saying, my wife is dead. David's parents arrive, find Trees' mutilated body before David can come outside and warn them not to go in. Then within minutes, patrol officers Gary Flanagan and Tom Savage respond to the scene. As they pull up to the house, they notice the front door is open, and several people are

standing in the living room. As the officers approach them, David Wallin says, you've got a murder on your hand, boys. My wife's in the bedroom. She's been murdered. My God. The officers secure the scene, contacted this batcher to send detectives from homicide as well as a corner, the quiet residential street suddenly swarming with neighbors and police, heading up the investigation is Lieutenant Ray Biondi, an experienced investigator and known as an all-around good cop, well respected by his peers. Biondi tells the detectives, we need to hurry up and catch the sixth son of a bitch who did this. It's clear to Biondi that whoever had done this is likely to do it again and soon. And he's right.

The next day on January 24, Chase purchases a copy of the Sacramento B again, once again, enjoying the report regarding his kill. He wants to kill again as soon as possible. And he also wants some, uh, some old magazines, apparently between 10 and 10 30 a.m. Chase walks up to the front door of Lawrence and Betty Laman at 3216 Sunview Avenue. When Mr. Laman asks him what he wants, Chase says he's collecting old magazines. Laman says he doesn't have any and Chase leaves. Huh. He's next spotted at 1pm at 2 4 1 2 Brentwood where he asks again for old magazines and again is turned away. He then calls his mom to ask her if she wants to go on a picnic and his grandmother

picks him up. Horting to Holly or grandson is in good spirits. Man, this guy, if he could have written his like plans down, he would have the most fucked up to do lists. It's okay, Ricky, okay, good boy. What's on the docket for today? One, grab some orange juice, always, always orange juice. Two, drink blood. Three, find as many old magazines as possible. Four, call mom, set a picnic.

Five, kill someone. 10, 15 a.m. January 25th, he was spotted at the highest residence at 3133 Pennland. The same neighborhood he'd looked for magazines the day before. Here he again asked for old magazines. Again, does not receive any. Not having any luck finding old magazines or people he wanted to kill. Chase revisits the Owens place where he purchased those two puppies back in November. Chase knew Mr. Owens schedule and he was able to get inside when he wasn't home and find one of the Labrador's.

He shoots one of the hits, shoots in the head, cuts open the dog's stomach, removes his kidneys, drinks his blood before leaving. And I'm fucking numb now to a lot of what he's doing. I'm like, yeah, yeah, of course he did. Huh? No, that's what he do. That's what he does. That's what Chase do. He drinks blood. He what he's doing. I'm like, yeah, yeah, of course he did. Huh? No, that's what he do. That's what he does. That's what Chase do. He drinks blood. He kills people's dogs. This is classic Chase.

It's a little dick being a little dick. That night, Chase calls his mom. This time she's home during the conversation. He speaks of rockets, spacecraft, and jokes about little green men. Of course he does. Beatrice would later say that she and Richard had a jelly conversation. He's leading such a strange life. While Chase is looking for more victims, the police are working long hours, knocking

on doors, falling up every available lead. None of the leads are very promising. I don't find anything but dead ends. As brutal as this recent murder is, it's not connected immediately to Chase's first two murders, so they don't think immediately that they have a killer. At first, they think that one of Theresa Wolland's boyfriends might have killed her. And they were more concerned with another string of local crimes. I'm sorry, just the one previous murder.

Sorry, I referred to two there. There's been one before. The Sheriff's Department had instituted a task force to catch an individual known as the East Area Rapist who had racked up 38 rapes in two years and investigators were busy trying to catch the man who had become known as the Golden State Killer. A past suck subject we now know is Joseph James DeAngelo. Just a few weeks ago actually on August 21st, 2020, that now 70-year-old, 74-year-old, dirtbag, finally received multiple life sentences with no possibility of parole for all the heinous shit he did. But I don't want to give the impression

that they weren't also trying to find Richard. They were second by the brutality of Teresa's murder. They had to find the guy who did this on January 26, three days after Teresa had been butchered, Chase migrated over to Marywood Drive to look for new victims and probably old magazines and possibly fresh oranges and rabbit blood. Like the previous places he'd visited, he was just several blocks from where he lived. Chase stopped at the Scott residence at 2407 Marywood on the 26, he'd visited. He was just several blocks from where he lived. Chase stopped at the Scott residence at 2407 Marywood on the 26th. Spoked him as a Scott about magazines.

Always the magazines. Mrs. Scott turned him down. Chase next stopped at the clinic home at 2837 Marywood around 11 a.m., knocking on the door. Miss Klemick looked to the people and asked, who's there and Chase didn't answer. She asked what he wanted and he said, can you guess?

That's right, yeah, magazines. So he was looking for magazines. She said no. And Chase sat on her porch for a few minutes before leaving, investigators would later speculate that Chase waited around as he had at the latent house debating whether he could get away with killing the homes and inhabitants or not.

He may not have actually given a shit about magazines. He was completely separate from reality. He knew he wanted to kill, he wanted to get away with it and for some reason this magazine question We're just the best thing he could come up with to think to ask somebody Well, what kind of brainstorm led to that question just think Ricky think think think think what do people say when they knock on a stranger's door My name is Richard. I doubt I'm even gonna try and kill you today. No, that doesn't feel right My name is Richard. I doubt I'm even gonna try and kill you today. No, that doesn't feel right.

Hi, I think I may have left some rabbit blood laying around. Did you take it from me? That's closer, but not right. Do you have orange slices I can wrap up in a towel to get my blood moving? That's good, that's good, that's real close. How long Chase spent wandering in that neighborhood remains a mystery, but he wouldn't find a victim that day,

but he returned to Mary with the next morning and sadly find several. Leaving the Evergreen apartments on the morning of Friday, January 27th, Chase drove south along Watt crossing first over McCrony Avenue and then crossing over El Camino Avenue before turning into the parking lot of the Country Club Center. He parked his car sometime between 10 a.m. and noon set out for Marywood Drive on foot. 3207 Marywood Drive was a modest ranch house. That's a north side of the block. Third house from a dead end in 1978.

It was owned by Evelyn Moroth, 36, and she lived there with her two sons, 13 year old Vernon and six year old Jason. Evelyn had a steady boyfriend, Daniel Meredith, who was 50 and by all accounts, they were pretty happy. Evelyn Moroth didn't work, helping out in other ways, like babysitting her young nephew, 22 month old David Michael Ferreira. And approximately 7 a.m. on the morning of January 27th, Karen Fiera dropped her young son David off at her sister-in-law's house. It was their Friday routine.

Sometime that morning Evelyn moat her yard and subsequently left the garage door open. But in the same thing many times. Pretty much every time I mow my lawn, I bet a lot of you do too. After finishing the lawn, she went to take a bath and she forgot to shut the garage door. Meanwhile, Richard Chase had left the parking lot of the Country Club Center, wearing the new orange jacket, his dad, Papa Dakin Bottom, and carrying his 22 pistol. In his pocket are some rubber gloves and a mere 100 feet from where he parked his car. As he strolled down Marywood, he noticed the open garage door at 3207.

There was only one car in the garage, which was a good sign to chase, who avoided houses that might have numerous adults in the house at the same time. Which again, speaks to a big part of his mind, or can just fine. His brain wasn't just working on a rabbit blood and orange slices. He enters Evelyn's home. In the home where Evelyn, little David, Evelyn's six-year-old son, Jason, and Dan Meredith, a neighbor who had come over

to check on Evelyn. Evelyn was in the bath while Dan watched the children. He went into the front hallway when Chase entered the home and was shot in the head at point blank range with Chase's 22-hand gun killing him. This is the same gun used in the Griffin and Wallen murders. Chase then turned the corpse over and stole Dan's wallet and car keys. Jason ran to his mother's bedroom where chase fatally shot him twice in the

head at point blank range on the way to killing Jason. Chase also shot young David in the head. He was killed while in his crib with a shot that entered the right side of his head, passing through it and piercing the pillow case, but not penetrating the pillow. Chase then entered the bathroom and fatally shot Evelyn once in the head. He dragged her corpse onto the bed, where he simultaneously Sodomized it and drank its blood from a series of slices to the back of her neck. Medical examiners reported an inordinate amount of semen in the corpse's rectum, indicating

an unusual amount of ejaculations. My God! When Chase had finished, he stabbed her at least half a dozen times in the anus, the knife penetrating ejaculations. My God. When Chase had finished, he stabbed her, at least half a dozen times in the anus, the knife penetrating her uterus. He stabbed her in a series of vital points in the body, causing blood from her internal organs to pull into her abdomen,

which he then sliced open and drained into a bucket, and then consumed all of the blood. Chase then went to retrieve young David's corpse, took it into the bathroom, split his skull open in the bathtub, consumed some of the baby's brain matter. Fah! Outside a six-year-old girl with whom Jason Morath

had a play date knocked on the door, startling Chase, he fled the residence, stealing Dan Meredith's car, the girl alerted a neighbor, the neighbor broke into the Morath home when where he discovered the bodies and contacted the authorities. Upon entering the home,

police discovered that Chase had left perfect handprints and perfect imprints of the souls of issues in eveline's blood so i really do much with those gloves he brought chase meanwhile to david's corpse home with him this is especially heinous i know i've said so much ridiculous shit already uh... we become numb but that somehow he kicked up a notch he chops off the baby's penis uses it it as a fucking straw through which he sucks the blood out of the body.

Sorry, I don't even know what's happening anymore. I don't even know what to say about something that for post-race. He then slices the corpse open, consumes several internal organs, makes smoothies out of others, finally disposing of the corpse at a nearby church, which it'll take and he doesn't tell anybody where he's supposed to body, that'll be a whole thing. God of the days, a feast on the blood and flesh of birds and dogs.

Now he's feasting upon his own kind. He is fucking scarier than any movie or graphic novel vampire now. The next morning, on January 28th, Chase would purchase and keep as a momentum, another copy of the Sacramento Bee, which describes his recent murders in great detail with accompanying pictures of the victims. He had done it again, he's gotten away with more gruesome murder, but he hadn't covered

his tracks very well. And the same day, he will be apprehended. The city is in shock. A citywide search is organized to find baby David. Many people assume or at least hope that the baby is still alive. The search to find David's kidnapper killer, doesn't look real promising at first. The only thing the authorities know for certain is that a 20-something white male with long hair is the person responsible for committing the murders.

They think he probably lived near where the crimes took place, but there were lots of young, scruffy white men in that part of Sacramento. While they hunted them the police, they put cars all over the neighborhood, Chase, who had no idea, authorities were closing in on him, continues just to, you know, drink blood and mutilate the body of David Freira. And the privacy of his filthy apartment, he also cuts the child's head off. He, his house is fucking just this gruesome, gory display now. This, This child remains combined with months of eating animals, made his apartment look like a butcher shop run by a psychotic butcher who didn't give a shit about ever cleaning anything. There were practically no surfaces in the apartment that were not stained by blood.

All of his kitchen utensils had blood on them. No one other than Richard had apparently been inside for months. His parents, when they would come by, he would just open the door, crack, and just let them hand him groceries, that kind of thing. If you recall from the recent FBI Behavioral Science Unit Suck, FBI agents Russ Vorpagel and Robert Restler were called into assist with the investigation, and Restler came up with a quick psychological profile of the killer that was eerily accurate that would lead directly to chase getting caught. And here is what Resta wrote.

White male, age 25 or 27, thin, undenourished appearance, single, living alone in a location within one mile of abandoned station wagon owned by one of the victims. An unusual amount of orange peels will be found near the residence. The area will be curiously devoid, small animals. No dogs, cats, birds or rabbits will live within a hundred yards. The killer will be found missing his pulmonary artery. It will later be discovered that his mother stole it roughly a decade earlier. Also, the killer will have a limp. He will attribute to a poison gas attack suffered many years prior. The killer will have no pulse. His heart stopped beating a long, long time ago.

And in his room, he will find skull shavings. His shape, shifting head, has been shedding bones for years out the back. But how will you find the strange man? How will you locate his residence? Old magazines. Look for scraps of old magazines. Those scraps will lead you straight to him.

I know this description is incredibly specific and more than a little odd. But it comes from an informant I trust implicitly. Mary is a shrub slut I've relied on for many years and she's never once let me down. From the dirt and the pines she sees things that the rest of us cannot. And of course that's not sense. He did give an eerily accurate profile though. This is the real profile that Agent Restler, BSU Founding Father, man credited with coining the term serial killer wrote, I find this amazing.

White male age 25 to 27. He was close, real close. Thin undernourished appearance, single living alone in a location within one mile of a band and station wagon owned by one of the victims. Residents will be extremely, slavvently and unkept. Evidence of the crimes will be found at the residence. Subject will have a history of mental illness and use of drugs. Suspect will be an unemployed loner who does not associate with either males or females

and will probably spend a great deal of time in his own residence. If he resides with anyone, it will be with his parents. However, this is unlikely. Suspect will have no prior military history. He will be a high school or college dropout, probably suffers from one or more forms of paranoid psychosis. Nailed it! That is pretty damn impressive.

After hearing this FBI profile, Nancyen, Chase's old classmate, Lady, he creeped a fuck out at the pantry market, contacts the police saying she thinks Richard Chase could be the killer. The police run a background check on Chase where they come across his registration of a 22 caliber pistol detectives into an a team of police then go to Chase's department, knock on his door, no response, but the here movement inside. So they stay and listen. Eventually Chase steps out, they tackle him and arrest him.

The vampire of Sacramento, a human ghoul, if there ever was one, is holding the blood stain box. And the park and shoes he is wearing have similar blood stains. Inside the box are pieces of shredded blood soaked wallpaper and the bloodstained 22 that he had used to commit their murders with. Chase claimed that the bloody wallpaper and the bloody gun were a result of his killing several dogs and the place where like, you know what?

That makes sense and they let him go. No, when the police search him, they find that he's carrying Daniel Meredith Wallet, boyfriend right, or the guy staying there with Evelyn, detectives, along with wrestler and Vorpagel perform a search of Chase's apartment. They find the walls, floor, ceiling, refrigerator, all of Chase's eating and drinking utensils soaked in blood. Even the ceiling on the counter is the blender chase used to make blood smoothies. It's caked and coagulated blood in the rotting matter of internal organs.

How is this dude not on the toilet 24 hours a day? I have Taco Bell. And for the next two hours, my butthole is the heavily outmatched underdog in a cage fight. This dude has rotting organs in a blender. It's just drinking a preposterous amounts of blood and it's not constantly throwing up or just hammering out his colon. Inside the refrigerator, please find several animal body parts wrapped in aluminum foil. They find young David's brains, what was left of them in a top work container, piece of his body wrapped in saran wrap, several of Evelyn Roth and Theresa Wallins internal organs

are also in the fridge on another counter or a bunch of pet collars on his kitchen table. He has spread out numerous, he has spread out numerous diagrams to picking various aspects of human biology these poor police officers good luck getting all that shit out of your head a calendar is home has the dates of the murders marked with the word today on all of them uh... the following day january twenty-nine to police interrogate chase

he's interviewed by two psychiatrists doesn't display an ounce of remorse or guilt and steady describes the crimes very matter of factly. He also will not tell anyone what he's done with a majority of young David's remains, which were not found in his apartment. Nearly eight weeks later on March 24th, the rest of David's body is finally found.

January 2nd, 1979, Richard Chase's trial begins, both psychiatrists deem him sane, criminally, at the times of the crimes. He charged with six counts of first degree murder. Shell casings from Chase's gun found that the Ambrose Griffin crime scene proved that he was guilty of the murder of that 51 year old man, his first kill. The man he just randomly shot from his car as he was grabbing grocery bags. On May 8th, just a few weeks before Richard Chase's 29th birthday, he has found guilty

on all six murder counts and sentenced to death. While the trial lasted for four months, the jury only deliberated for five hours. I'm surprised it took him that long. I feel like five seconds should have been plenty. Chase has put on death row at San Quentin State Prison. At one point, Chase has sent to the Vacaville State Hospital after having some trouble with his medications. Then he's returned to death row. While in prison, Chase has interviewed again by FBI agent Robert Restler and special agent John Conway. Agent Restler would say, of Chase's eyes, I'll never forget them.

They were like those of the sh- They were like those of the shark in the movie Jaws. No pupils, just black spots. They were evil eyes that stayed with me long after the interview. I almost got the impression that he couldn't really see me that he was seen through me just staring. Chase did not show aggression towards the agents as it turns out he was on some strong downers. He admitted to the murders, but took no actual responsibility for the crimes. He

said he had no choice in the matter. He had to commit the murders to stay alive. His heart stopped beating for fuck's sake. You try and stay alive with someone, someone else takes your pulmonary artery. Chase told the FBI profilers that he had killed to preserve his own life and that he was developing an appeal based on that. And then it gets a lot weirder. He told the agents about some soap dish poisoning that was going on. Racer asked him what that was and he explained that everyone has a soap dish, right? Right. You see it?

You know, you walk in someone's house, they go, you know, bar soap and soap dish. Well, it turns out if you lift the soap up and you find that underneath the soap is dry, well, then you're fine. But if it's gooey, oh shit. Now it's poison. And that poison turns your blood into powder and that powder depletes your energy and eats away your body. Wake up agent, shit for brains.

Do you not remember the blood powder chapter from your human anatomy 101 class textbook? Come on. Oh, you call yourself an FBI agent? You don't even know that you can have your blood turn into powder from dish soap, poison stuff. Chase also told the agents he was Jewish, which he was not.

He told them that he'd been persecuted by Nazis because he had a star of David on his forehead, which he was not. He told him that he'd been persecuted by Nazis, because he had a star of David on his forehead, which he did, he did not. He also explained that Nazis were connected to UFOs, which had telepathically commanded him to kill to replenish his blood. So there was no way his appeal was going to fail. Not as the FBI did their job and tracked down the alien Nazis. Chase told the agents that the UFO, Nazi Fox, were still following him, and that the FBI should be able to pinpoint them by putting a radar on Chase. Just put a radar on him.

You know how that works? You take a radar and you put it on somebody and you find the UFO Nazis. Boom! Right? Then you can catch him and then you can let him go. At one point during the interview, he stuck his hands in his pocket and he pulled out a handful of mac and cheese.

He had some mac and cheese in his pocket. He said he was convinced the prison guards were not season, we're trying to kill him. And he asked, and he asked if Rester would eat some of the macaroni, some of the pocket macaroni and test if it poisoned. And Rester declined, oh, okay, whoa, agent, my shit doesn't stink.

Apparently thinks his hoity toy, he asked is too good for some perfectly fine pocket-macken cheese. Rester also asked Chase how he'd chosen his victims. Chase said he would go down the street, testing doors to see if they were unlocked or not. If the door was locked, he said, well, that meant that you're not welcome. If you're a vampire, you're not supposed to go in. So if you didn't have a good reason to lock your door already, well, now you do.

After hearing all this, it may not surprise you to hear the agent wrestler disagreed with Chase receiving the death penalty. He believed that if anyone should have ever been granted an insanity play, it should have been Richard Chase. Years later, he wrote in his book, Whoever Fights Monsters that Chase should have spent the rest of his life in a mental institution. And now I hate to do this yet again. I do apologize.

This is rare here on TimeSuck. We do have one last sponsor break to take. Actually, it's a sponsor we already did in ad 4, but they bought another one for different service and it'll make sense here in a second. Today's TimeSuck is still brought to you by the law office of Chase, Kemper, and Crow. Have you been framed by not-see-UFOs? Have they been poisoned in your macaroni? Have they been turning your blood into powder?

Have they perhaps stolen your pulmonary artery? Have doctors not taken your rabbit blood injections, blood smoothies, and orange-peeled cranium diffusion treatment seriously? Do you think those doctors may also be trying to poison you, just like your mother? Or do you think they may be trying to poison you, just like your mother? Or do you think they may be trying to gas you, like the Utah police officers? Get the freedom you deserve!

Call the law office of Chase, Crow and Kemper by dialing toll-free, 1-800-THERR-OUT-TAKET-U. The judge, jury, and FBI may not take the threat of Nazi UFOs seriously, but we hear at the law office of Chase, Crow, and Kemper understand that Nazi UFOs are not only real. They're a goddamn epidemic. Again, that's 1-800. They're out to get you. Sorry about that, everybody. I hate to have a sponsor on twice in one episode, but they paid a million dollars each.

Those are for those spots. Back in the real world, no crazy firm would save Chase from incarceration. On December 26, 1980, Richard Trenton Chase died while on death row, and autopsy found that he committed suicide by overdosing on antidepressants. He'd saved up for several weeks, rather than be executed, he took himself out. And I got to say, I am very much okay with this suicide. Did you forget about the baby penis that he used to drink the baby blood? I am strongly anti suicide 99.9% of the time, but damn near every rule has an exception.

And what good could have possibly come from this crazy fuck, this irreparably damaged meat sack staying alive? I really don't think he was mentally capable of getting his shit together ever. And to what end if he did, did what to hang on prison for the rest of his life after doing this shit he did? Now, hopefully his death brought his victims' family some closure.

And that is it for this week's insane, literally insane, time suck timeline. Good job, soldier. You made it back. Barely. What another crazy tale, right? One of the craziest we've told. I both despised Richard Chase and pity him. I really doesn't seem like he was dealt a hand that had much of a chance of winning the life, you know, with his fragile, demented mind that he constantly battled.

He earned the nickname of the Vampireental because of his obsession with drinking blood, which I forgot to mention this connection. He believed prevented Nautis from turning his blood into powder via the poison they planted beneath his soap dish. He thought his fucking head was changing shape, bones were coming out of the back of his skull. He thought someone had taken his pulmonary artery. Chase started to eat his murder victims raw drinking their blood, eating the brain matter

of a toddler. No one knows how many dogs, cats, rabbits, other creatures he killed in eight. He injected rabbit blood into his veins. He had his mental health evaluated so many times. No one ever thought his mind was in a good place. He should have been permanently institutionalized long before he murdered. Dude was born into the wrong family for someone with his brain. His dad didn't value the field of psychiatry.

His mom meant well, I think, but, you know, was probably his kids friend or herself. Her paranoia may have helped lead to his. She thought her husband, Richard Chase, he knew it was poison in her. She thought he was trying to, trying to fuck shrub sluts on camera trips. I feel bad for little dick chase, kind of.

Despite his paranoia and hallucinations in the end, I do think he killed mostly because he wanted to. Not because anyone else, or any uncontrollable thoughts, not because UFO Nazis made him. He waited and debated if he could get away with it, ultimately decided he could, for a while, he would get away with it. Six people would die at the hands of Chase, while one person was killed in a drive-by style shooting the other were killed in, you know, exercises of just deliberate and deluded brutality that would shock the city of Sacramento.

Finally with the help of the FBI and Nancy Holden, the Sacramento Sheriff's Department managed to apprehend and put a stop to his atrocities. And as of December 26, 1980, the vampire of Sacramento is no more. Like with other over-the-top monsters, Albert Fish, Y'all him, Crowell, I just can't believe I'd never heard of Richard Chase before coming across his name in the FBI, behavioral science unit episode a few weeks ago. How many other psychopaths like this guy are out there?

How many have I just not heard of yet? How many have been caught over the years? How many haven't been caught yet? That's a terrifying thought. Time now for today's top five takeaways. Time suck, top five takeaways. Time, suck, top five takeaways. Number one, Richard Chase killed six people in the span of a month in 1977 and 78, including a baby that wasn't even two years old yet.

He would mutilate several of their bodies, cannibalize their corpses, keeping many organs in their fridge, making organs smoothies that he would drink. There's the whole, the whole penis thing. He was, I, I think we can all agree a very, very, very sick man. Number two, erectile dysfunction. As we see time and time again, with these fuckheads erectile dysfunction influences killers deeply. Sometimes she could tealoyah him crawl,

which are chase all the more reason to get treated if you're dealing with it. Number three, part of what drove chase was his fear of his body being sick. His severe hypocondria, including his belief, they had some super weird heart issues. That his heart wasn't beating. They used misinteriorty, cranial bones become separated, we're falling out of the back of his head. Too bad those unique vitamin C brain treatments didn't work. Number four, to go along with his bad role of the genetic dice, Chase was also a drug addict,

which made his problems worse. If you suffer serious mental illness, hard drugs are not for you. It gets the front of your really doesn't mix well with like, you know, meth. Also his parents didn't always agree with doctor recommendations. At one point, taking him off as anti-psychotic meds,

not a good idea. Before ditching your meds, get a second opinion from another doctor, not your mom. Number five, new shit. Because of the unique and horrific nature of his crimes, Chase has been featured in a number of television series, films, even video games. He's even mentioned several times in songs

by artists like rapper, brother, Lynch, hung, where he says he is like Richard Chase, makes with Alcompone, makes with Alcompone, excuse me, metal bands, experimental groups, Stoner Rockers, have also referenced him. The band dismantled, put out an album in 2011 called The War Inside Me.

And the first verse of the track Insect Head, written from Chase's perspective. My stomach's on backwards, my blood's turned to powder. Can you help me out? My skull is changing shape, and when I look in the mirror, all I see is an Insect Head. They're in the ceiling tiles. The whole goddamn place is bugged. Gotta find these motherfuckers. I'm outside your front door and if your shit is unlocked, I'm gonna come inside, come inside. Finally the little-known 1907 movie, Rampage. What a movie! Roger Ebert gave three out of

four stars also based on the crimes of Richard Chase if you want to dig further into the insanity of this dude's life. Time, shock, tough, right takeaway. And another chapter in the true crime section of the time, so catalog has been written. The vampire sacramental, man, I'm some brutal haunting shit. But also, especially in the moments before you, you know, started killing very funny in moments in dark ways.

Thank you to the Bad Magic Productions team for all the help in making time. So Queen of Bad Magic, Lindsey Cummins, Reverend Dr. Jill Paisley, the script keeper, Zach Flannery, Sophie Fax, Sorceress, Evans, Biddelixer, Logan and Kate Keith, runningbadmagicmerch.com and the socials, the art warlock and the Baroness of Bad Magic. Thanks to all those who joined the cult of the curious private Facebook group, hail Nimrod to all of you. Thanks to Liz Hernandez and our all seen eyes

running the cult of the curious Facebook page. Thanks to all the wonderful weirdos having fun on Discord. And thanks to all you spaces, there's playing time. So trivia, sergeant, awesome, currently in the lead, 6,887 points. New round, round three starts on September 7th at 3pm Pacific time. Next week, it's the Titanic and the conspiracies that surround its sinking. The Titanic sank in the early hours of the morning on April 15th, 1912. The luxury cruise liner that had been touted as being unsinkable was, in fact, very sinkable. After smashing into an iceberg on a starboard side, it took less than two hours for the Titanic

to submerge into the ocean, eventually coming to rest at a depth of over 12,000 feet underwater. While it's confused and traumatized passengers, passengers, who just a few hours prior have been joined music, dancing, state-of-the-art amenities, food and drink, aboard the most technologically advanced ship of their time, leaving those traumatized pastors in just 24 lifeboats. It would be nowhere near enough to save all of them in over a thousand people with Paris that night. Soon after it sinking wild conspiracy theories began to float to the surface. Sorry, I can't help myself. Did JP Morgan use the Titanic to kill off some other millionaires, some rivals? Was it the Rothschilds, old favorite of the conspiracy theorists?

Just two of the many extreme ideas I don't have shit to do with icebergs. And we'll look into them. And also into how the Titanic was finally found, going full Jack Dawson next week on Time Suck. Now let's head on over to this week's Time Sucker updates. First up some Roy Disney related humor, which I like coming in from funny meat sack, Jenny Drake. Jenny making me feel good when she writes, dear Suckmaster, Moshmiles and handler of both jangles slayer of the Cocker Spaniels, I wanted to write you about the Disney Suck.

It's because of something you said in the Skinwalker Ranch Suck, or but it's because of something you said in the Skinwalker Ranch S. Or but it's because of something you said in the Skinwalker Ranch suck. In the Skinwalker suck, you made a comment about how you hoped that other people found the Roy Disney jokes funny and I had to laugh. Of all the random jokes you've made about people, that one has gotten me the most. I cracked up every single time you went off on Roy. I'm not 100% sure why. But growing up when my mom used to make comments about how that Roy Disney was ruining everything while Disney built.

And then he was destroying the family values of Disney head and still in the company with the worldly changes he was allowing in newer movies. I just always took it as a fact, of course, because I was young and had no idea what he was talking about. Fast forward to my adult years and I realized my mom is kind of a nut with lots of very outdated old-fashioned values. Anyway, the Roy jokes were hilarious to me because I could just see my mom rambling off about Roy and wholeheartedly agreeing with you.

Thank you for the last. My husband and I list every week. Please give him a shout out. His name is Mike and he's been an amazing source of strength for me while I deal with some back injury issues and a pregnancy on top of it. Maybe a story for a different email for a different time. Keep on sucking your loyal meat sack, Jenny. Well, thank you, Jenny, and I hope you're feeling. Keep on sucking your loyal meat sack, Jenny.

Well, thank you, Jenny, and I hope you're feeling better already. Thanks for being a rock, Mike. You sound like one solid dude and Jenny, it sounds like your mom and I, we get along great. Sounds like your mom and I should co-author a book about Roy Momkilling family value destroying Disney. One of the few men I've ever read about who's worse than Dick or Chase.

More humor now. Coming in from high school health teacher and fun loving sucker Dan McVeigh. Dan writes, all hell Reverend Dr. Dan Sarcasm born of the House Cummins. First of his name, the unbearded king of the meat sacks in the space lizards, comedian of the great potato state, breaker of pronunciation and father of Bojangles Esquire. Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, you're really getting my zapples going. While you take great pleasure in your misdirects and plenty of meat sacks have written to say so, I have been able, for the most part, to detect the bullshit in the first two or three senses. I've been playing catch up with the back catalog for some time, while also staying current.

The only nonsense I've fallen for was a DaVincik, was DaVinci be insatomized as an apprentice until today. During the Fritz whistle suck, you talked about a college friend getting general war, getting general warrants after his first sexual experience. Knowing a little bit about this subject as a high school health teacher, I was like, that seems legit. Then how it spread all over his body to his face.

I thought, extreme, but still, I guess medically possible. Then you said it was only from a hand job, from a hand job, and I still thought, well, seems unlikely, but I guess it could happen. That led to your cousin getting HIV by finger banged, and I was still processing in my head that HIV is transmitted through blood, so that felt totally believable.

After so many sucks, I have only 20 left to be caught up, you've got me twice. The fact is so infrequent makes it even better. It's literally all I've been able to think about since this morning, anyway, SFT, LEM, thanks for making me laugh, like a fiend, my gullibility, hail, Nimrod, and keep on sucking, you glorious bastard. PS, my last name is pronounced the same as

noodle McDryweens, just FYI. Dan Holy shit, you made me laugh, my first read that message. I completely forgot about my lie about DaVinci the same as noodle Mc dryweens just FYI. Dan Holy shit, you made me laugh. My first read that message. I completely forgot about my lie about DaVinci and about how all the great Renaissance artistic masters had to pay their dues by getting satamized on the HIV finger bang.

Ah boy. I'm so glad I got you twice and I'm more happy that you could laugh about it. Glad you having fun and thanks for doing what you do, teacher. Now SuperSac Jason or Jackson Boyd's, excuse me, gives me more hope in the existence of life, other life in the universe beyond what we have here on Earth, by writing, Dear Suck Daddy, I just finished

listening to the Skinwalker Ranch Suck and I figured I'd share my recent UFO encounter with you. This occurred on August 11th of this year, just a few weeks ago, I was at my family's late cabin in North Dakota with my girlfriend and my grandparents. We were all sitting around the fire, stargazing, watching a meteor shower. Oh, I watched that tube by the way, and I saw the coolest falling stars. God, that is cool to see that.

Now I'm a bit of a space nerd, so I was pointing out all the different stars, planets and satellites we could see. Around 11, 45, everyone else decided to go to bed. I wanted to stare at the clear sky for just a few more minutes as I was looking up. I saw what at first I thought where was a faint satellite.

However, it began to move in a zigzag pattern at an impossible rate of speed. My hair stood up on the back of my neck and I experienced equal feelings of, this is the coolest thing I'll ever see and I'm gonna need some new pants after this After around 15 seconds It dipped below the horizon and I could no longer see it. I sat and tried to rationalize what I had seen but could not

I immediately told my girlfriend texted a few buddies who are also space nerds The consensus was it was indeed a UFO our vast universe holds many secrets And I look forward to the day science can offer us some answers. Yours and sucking, Jackson Boyd. We'll thank you, Jackson. I love this message. How cool you lucky bastard. This is what I keep hoping to see when I sit out my hot tub late at night, stare into the night sky, which is one of my favorite things to do right now. Come find me aliens. Come on. Maybe not the Nazi aliens that were, you know, fucking with Richard Chase and Poison is soap and stuff, but you know some nice kind of alien Now let's get back to some funny

Lucky meat sack John tall writes Alrighty suck master supreme. I'm writing to report some good news from Salt Lake City For oh, sorry from the Salt Lake City realm of Nimrod's kingdom and to confirm that there is indeed an opposite and good version of Cummins law I was pulled over by Utah Highway Highway Patrol on the way home from work listening to TimeSuck. I have a sweet Bluetooth car stereo with a ton of amazing features. Unfortunately, the volume control is broken. Also, it's set up to stay on until the driver's side door is open. So there I am. On the side of I-15 car off, hands at 10 and 2 license the registration out and ready, and you railing on Roy fucking Disney as the trooper comes to my window.

I sheepers he look up at him and he dramatically whips off his sunglasses and says, what the hell are you listening to? Before I can answer, he says, jk gosh dang, meet's heck. That's awesome. A feeling of ultimate relief washes over me. I laughed harder than I've laughed in a long time. We jetted for a brief minute. I told him we should get coffee at curls cafe sometime and he said I'd love that mother And then he let me off with the warning

Anyway, I thought you'd enjoy a tale of what I've been calling Cummins karma Thanks for all you do mishmouth the podcast has really helped me survive the last few months keep it up That is sweet glad that worked out John Hill Nimrod and Thanks for the reminder also that there is sweet. Glad that worked out, John, healed them, Rod. And thanks for the reminder, also that there is a lot of good cops out there. You know, easy to forget that in 2020. Definitely some bad apples, definitely some problems that definitely need fixing, but also some good peeps. Just want to help keep the world a little safer for everybody. And some

of them have awesome senses of humor as well. All right, one last message. Another funny one, I'm feeling the funny messages today. Also, sorry if your message doesn't get read. We get literally hundreds every week. We try. We look and curate as best we can. We don't always get it right. Obviously, please keep sending them in.

And thank you for sending them in. Funny ass sucker Lorenzo Sandival writes, Hey, sock master. I just wanted to share a hilarious moment I had while listening to the suck. I work at a water treatment plant where I don't have a lot of interactions with my coworkers. My boss found me that a day while I was listening to the Andrew Jackson suck to give me an update about the plant. After he got done saying a

lot of monotonous bullshit about the plant, he asked, I'm sorry, sorry, just lost where I was. He asked what I was listening to. I started telling him about the best podcast ever and he was genuinely interested. So I took the headphones out of my phone only to hear you say, and the pox spread to his dick and balls. Soon you couldn't tell what the pox ended and the dick began.

To which I started laughing hysterically while he looked at me like I was really fucked up. It was the best laugh I've had in a while and I thought I would share it with you. Anyway, keep on sucking and hail Lucifina, sincerely Lorenzo. Hail Lucifina, sincerely Lorenzo. Hail Lucifina Lorenzo, dude. I love that you laughed about this interaction.

That's awesome, man. Sound like you have a great approach to life. Thanks for helping keep our water clean, dude. Keep on sucking and you know, watch out for that dick box. Thanks, time suckers, I need a net. We all did. That's all for this week, meadsecs. Thanks for continuing to rate and review the show.

It for sure still helps spread the suck. Thanks for taking a round and continuing to listen to what has to be one of the weirdest podcasts out there. I don't know how or why this works exactly, but I'm very glad that it does. Don't let anyone steal your pulmonary artery this week. Keep an eye out for shrub slots and not to UFOs and keep on sucking. Shhh. Shhh.

Shhh. Shhh. Shhh. Shhh. Shhh. Shhh. Shhh. You know, I've been feeling them shedding.

There's just, there's definitely a few, there's not there's a few bones coming out of the back of my head. More on this side over here. Yeah, I kind of, kind of all over. Oh, you see him. You see him. Okay. Oh, yeah, get him out. Get him out. Get him out. Get him out God damn it Nazis