Conway and Bawart drove to the Santa Clara lockup, checked their guns, and went in to see Spinelli. He was being held on $500,000 bail while awaiting trial on the charges. The prisoner was anxious. Spinelli knew how much trouble he was in. Though he could go in for what amounted to life, Spinelli still refused to budge. He would not name the individual he knew as Zodiac without being offered a deal. “I want all charges against me dropped,” he insisted.
“Out of the question,” said Bawart.
“We refuse to make any sort of deal like that,” said Conway.
“And just how do you know this person is Zodiac?” asked Bawart.
“He threatened me several days before the killing of Paul Stine, the San Francisco cabdriver. He wanted to show me how tough he was. He told me he was going to San Francisco and kill a cabbie for me,” said Spinelli. “The next day or so a cabdriver was killed in San Francisco and the Zodiac took credit for it.” A police report confirmed Spinelli and Allen had had fights in the past.
After a long discussion, Spinelli agreed to give Zodiac’s true name to his lawyer, Craig Kennedy, a deputy public defender of Santa Clara County. Throughout the remainder of the month, several meetings were held between Kennedy and his immediate boss, Bryan Schechmeister. The upshot was that no further information would be divulged without a definite deal given to their client. This Conway and Bawart still refused to do. They could play hardball too. It would be interesting to see who blinked first.
Thursday, January 31, 1991
Conway received a call from Kennedy. “I can give you the name that Spinelli has,” he said. The other side had caved.
Conway waited silently, although he already thought he knew the answer.
“It’s Leigh Allen. Arthur Leigh Allen.”
Conway let out a slow breath. He already knew all about Lee Allen. He got Bawart on the phone immediately. “LEE” was in the Zodiac cipher. It was the name Allen had worn on his smock at Ace Hardware. Conway contacted Inspector Armstrong in San Francisco. “Yes,” Armstrong said, “one of the primary suspects back in the early 1970s was Arthur Leigh Allen.” He also verified that Allen’s name had never been published in any media to his knowledge. The only persons knowing his name were law enforcement people and only those involved in the actual Zodiac investigation, or someone Allen might have bragged to such as medical personnel at Atascadero and some coworkers at an auto parts store in Sonoma.
“Arthur Leigh Allen and Spinelli were acquaintances way back when,” Bawart told me later, “and he [Allen] approached him and told him he wanted to be an enforcer for him. The guy [Spinelli] owned a topless bar. He admitted he was the Zodiac, said Spinelli, and said, ‘To show you, I’m going to go to San Francisco and kill a guy.’ That was shortly before the Stine killing. Then he supposedly came back and said, ‘I’m responsible for the Stine killing.’ I know this guy Spinelli fairly well from his criminal past. I didn’t know whether to believe him or not.”
Spinelli might have invented his story and been trying to win favor. Even if what he said was true, it was not solid supporting evidence that would hold up in court. It was fruit from a tainted tree. But how had Spinelli known to come up with the name Leigh Allen in the first place?
Wednesday, February 6, 1991
Conway and Bawart drove to the State Department of Justice, Sacramento Homicide Unit, to see Agent Fred Shirisago. This branch was currently the repository for all the Zodiac cases in the multitude of jurisdictions where the killer had struck. A constant refrain from amateur sleuths regarding the state DOJ was that some at the top level were not always responsive to their information and theories. “They don’t always take my information seriously,” one told me. “Further one guy claimed that the Riverside killing invalidated my material and he had proof Zodiac did not kill Cheri Jo Bates. He claimed the information provided by Pam, Darlene’s sister, was not valid as it was too old. The handprinting I provided by my expert was that ‘it looked similar,’ but after a killing in Martinez, they said it was not Zodiac’s. Yet he refused to allow the other expert, Mr. Morrill, a chance to examine said handprinting.”
This was not Toschi’s approach. “Just let people know you appreciate getting their clues on how to catch Zodiac,” he told me. “I always acknowledge receipt of a person’s letter, especially if it appears to have some substance or is sincere. I never know when I’ll get a letter that will make or break the case.” Shirisago gave Conway all the reports pertaining to the investigation of Arthur Leigh Allen, records that demonstrated San Francisco detectives, specifically Armstrong and Toschi, had conducted the primary investigation on Allen. They spoke with Armstrong, then Conway contacted Mel Nicolai, now retired. Nicolai agreed with Armstrong that the media had never revealed the name of Lee Allen as a suspect in the Zodiac investigation. Bawart followed the local papers devotedly. He too knew Allen’s name had never been linked publicly with Zodiac. Spinelli had to have had personal contact with Lee Allen or with a close friend of his. In no other way could he have come up with the name.
“Were there any reasons for Spinelli to lie about the information?” I asked Bawart. “A grudge? A lighter sentence of some sort?”
“Allen had gotten in a fight with Spinelli,” he told me. “Showed up at his house and kicked in the door and beat him up. And yes, he provided the information in exchange for a lighter sentence.”
Through Sacramento, Conway requested the FBI Director’s aid, Teletyping the following:
“The latent fingerprint section is requested to provide Sacramento with photographs of all latent fingerprints developed during the Zodiac investigation, Latent Case No A-10042. The latent fingerprint section is further requested to search the latent fingerprints developed in the Zodiac case through the Automated Identification System and the Automated Latent Systems Model and National Unidentified Latent File. Sacramento is not aware of the requested search as previously being conducted. The photographs of latent prints on file with the Identification Division are being sought at the request of the Vallejo California Police Department, who intends to run the prints, search through the California Department of Justice Automated Latent Prints System [ALPS].”
Compared against every suspect in the Zodiac case, prisoners and military personnel, there was no match. How had Zodiac done it?
Thursday, February 7, 1991
Bawart contacted Larry Ankron, a psychologist for VICAP at Quantico. Ankron knew all about Zodiac. Bawart told him all Armstrong, Toschi, and Mulanax had learned back in 1971, then gave him the information that Spinelli had provided—the name of Arthur Leigh Allen. The bureau, as it turned out, already had a file (their largest single file in the Zodiac case) on this individual. In Ankron’s estimation, Zodiac got as much pleasure from taunting the police and reliving his murders through souvenirs he kept as from the violent acts themselves. “My studies,” he said, “show that persons who commit these types of crimes many times keep souvenirs or trophies from these criminal acts. They will take some type of article from their victims such as identification, pieces of clothing, and so on. This is so they can keep these in a hidden place and relive the incident many times over. They will keep journals and newspaper clippings of the crimes themselves. Those who keep these souvenirs have ingenious hiding places within their residences such as false walls, hidden safes, and so on. Many times these individuals will have a storage place at another location where they keep their souvenirs.”
Possibly Zodiac’s trophies were underwater at a site such as Lake Berryessa or in the walls of a trailer. Ankron believed the killings were still going on, or had gone on until recently. After all, Zodiac said he wasn’t going to write anymore and would make his killings appear as accidents. “The only reason I can think of that the murders had stopped,” he said, “is that the man responsible had moved away [although the Zodiac crimes committed elsewhere would be readily identifiable because of his well-known M.O.]. He might have died. Or the police had come very close to apprehending him.” Many wh
o had seen Zodiac or been part of Leigh Allen’s alibi had died mysteriously. A caretaker’s daughter saw Zodiac speeding away from Blue Rock Springs, and died several years after in a car accident. A landlady who could have provided Allen with an alibi perished from a heart attack. Mr. William White, a neighbor [whose son joined the Vallejo force], had seen Allen return home on the day of the Lake Berryessa murder, and died shortly afterward. Frank Gasser, the raccoon hunter who had peered in the white Impala on Lake Herman Road the night of the murders, perished in a freak accident, dying suddenly two years later when he struck his head on a coffee table.
“You know,” Bawart told me, “when you investigate so many cases you get to be jaded to the degree that you have so many coincidences you just don’t believe in coincidences after a while. Where there’s smoke there’s fire.” He visited Ace Hardware, where Allen had once worked, and contacted Leigh’s coworker George Hieb. An ex-city employee, Hieb had worked at the Corporation Yard for many years. In his retirement he was working at Ace Hardware.
“Do you know Arthur Leigh Allen?” asked Bawart.
“I know him quite well,” said Hieb. “I visit his home almost on a weekly basis.” Though Leigh’s mother had died, he still kept to his basement bedroom, though he could have control of the entire house. Hieb too had seen Allen’s guns. “A number of revolvers—I think they’re .22-caliber, and at least one semiautomatic pistol, but I don’t know the caliber.” Because Allen had been arrested by the Sonoma County Sheriff’s Department for molesting a small boy, the suspect was a felon. Consequently, he was not allowed by law to own any of the weapons Hieb had seen. But in the decade that Hieb had known Allen, he had never discussed the Zodiac case with him. That was puzzling. Leigh had discussed it with others, even led people to think in that particular direction. Bawart cautioned Hieb not to mention the visit, then re-interviewed a number of people who had information about Allen. As much current information about the suspect as possible had to be gathered before they confronted him.
Near the detached garage on the northeast side of 32 Fresno Street sat a broken-down blue “General Motors-type” auto. According to Hieb’s information, Allen owned an older black G.M. vehicle. In the driveway were an older-model white Mercedes-Benz and light-blue Volkswagen Karmann Ghia. Allen possessed a white Buick, and Darlene Ferrin had been followed by an American-made white sedan. A silver or ice-blue ’66 Chevy with California plates had been seen at Lake Berryessa the day of the attack.
To get the lay of the land, Bawart drove over to 1545 Broadway, where Allen kept a boat and trailer. The location was a single-story residence on the west side of Broadway. To the north of the building stood a detached double-car garage packed with household goods. There were storage areas—places where Allen might squirrel away items—a large lean-to-type storage shed forty feet long and twenty feet deep, and a second storage area at the rear. George got out. Behind the garage, wind whipped grass in a vacant field. The scent of the Bay was in the air. In the center of the field stretched a twenty-two-foot-long blue and white sailboat on a trailer, partially draped by a blue tarp. Bawart surreptitiously lifted the tarp and saw a California license number, NE3725. The boat had sleeping quarters on board, which would allow a person to stay at sea for many days at a time. Bawart also observed an open sailboat some ten feet long. “It looked more like a rowboat,” he said. Bawart jotted down that license number too—9127F. Both were registered to Leigh. His mother had bought him the boats, spoiling him just as his sister-in-law had said. “Allen’s been unemployed and living on general assistance for some time,” Conway had told him. “He goes diving and races Hobie Cat sailboats.” Bawart decided that in addition to a search warrant for 32 Fresno, the police should at least search the sailboat. But the evidence they sought might be sunken somewhere off the coast, beneath blue lake waters, or under the turgid waters of the Delta.
Tuesday, February 12, 1991
When Conway filed an affidavit for a search warrant, he was looking for evidence kept at the Fresno Street home that might show that Allen had committed a felony. Possibly, they were already too late to find physical evidence. However, an explanation why the murders had stopped seemed revealed. Allen was now legally blind. “He was a very ill man,” Conway said, “he was fifty-one or fifty-two. . . . He was extremely ill and he’d had that illness for some time. Even though he could still get around he was not very mobile, and there was a lot of focus on him as a suspect. Being a suspect, being ill, and losing interest—all adds up to the explanation as to why.” The why in this case was why Zodiac ceased killing and writing.
“We figured he wasn’t a danger to anyone,” George Bawart told me.
On Attachment IV, Conway listed the items they were searching for. Any .22-caliber semiautomatic pistols or any .22-caliber ammo, live or expended, that may have been cycled through an automatic pistol and could be linked to the death of the Lake Herman Road victims, Betty Lou Jensen and David Faraday. Any personal effects linked to victims Jensen and Farraday, Darlene Ferrin or Michael Mageau, Cecelia Shepard or Brian Hartnell. They were also seeking the black Wing Walker-type boots, size 10½ R, Zodiac wore at Lake Berryessa during the attack there. The upper portion of these shoes was manufactured by the Weinbrenner Shoe Company, the “SUPERWEAR” soles by the Avon Company of Avon, Massachusetts. Both the Air Force and Navy issued them. Authorities were specifically looking for any portions existing of Paul Stine’s gray-and-white-striped sports shirt. In all likelihood it would be stained with blood. Stine’s wallet and I.D. and Yellow Cab’s keys had also been taken by Zodiac on Cherry Street that Columbus Day. Serial killers had a predilection for keeping souvenirs of their crimes so that they might relive the moment.
Conway and Bawart needed any firearm that might show evidence of having had a flashlight attached to it; any 9-mm automatic pistols or 9-mm automatic ammunition, live or expended, that may have been fired from a 9-mm pistol. They would try to link this to the murder of Paul Stine. They listed any knives a foot long with a one-inch blade having rivets in the handle and tape around the handle, and a black executioner’s hood which covered Zodiac’s head and hung down over his shoulders almost to his waist and was sleeveless. A circle and cross were painted white across the chest. Conway desired any diaries or journals that Allen might have kept that linked him with Zodiac or the investigation to catch him. Any item that had the Zodiac’s symbol of a crossed circle on it. He made one last request in his appeal: “Your Affiant asks that after the service of this search warrant that the Search Warrant Affidavit and Return of Service be sealed by the court. The reason this request is made is that the Zodiac case has had national publicity and has been one of the few cases that has so inflamed the public that it would serve no purpose for the news media to get information from this affidavit if no charges are filed. In the other vein, if charges are filed, the publicity from this affidavit would tend to make it difficult to have a fair trial.”
Police had come to believe that Zodiac was an unsophisticated killer who contrary to former beliefs did not stalk his victims—just came across them in lovers’ lanes. But the killer was very familiar with Vallejo and Berryessa and the surrounding area, and victims had complained of being stalked before their deaths.
I also thought sadly of Allen’s lost promise—at one time he could have been an Olympic diver. I recalled his yearbook picture and photos of him from junior high school and the 1950s when he was a lifeguard at The Plunge. A clipping portrayed a very slim young man, 180 pounds, about to leap from a diving board. Leigh had been fit and handsome, looking eerily like the first composite sketch of Zodiac. In the time between the murder of Paul Stine and his first interview with Toschi and Mulanax, Allen had gained so much weight, his face had become so owl-like, he was compared to rotund Burl Ives the folksinger—but Allen was still relatively young and Ives had been an old man. As it was, these days Allen was just getting by on his $500-a-month disability checks.
Wednesday, February 13, 1991
/> Municipal Judge F. Paul Dacey, Jr., Vallejo-Benicia, granted a search warrant (#1970) for Allen’s home at 32 Fresno Street and the boat stored at 1545 Broadway.
Thursday, February 14, 1991
Conway and his men served the warrant—rapped at the door and stood expectantly in the brisk morning air. The door opened and an army of cops entered. After all these years, at last they would finally see what was in that dank tomb of a basement.
28
the search
Thursday, February 14, 1991
“I’m a nice guy,” said Allen.
“What if I can prove you’re a mean guy?” said Conway.
“If you had something on me, you’d charge me,” Allen said placidly. He leaned on his cane. His eyes, heavily lidded, shone a lustrous brown beneath a massive brow—squirrel’s eyes. Leigh’s dog, Sobie, was at his feet. Conway pulled out a chair and conducted the interview upstairs where Leigh’s parents, Bernice and Ethan, had lived. Scattered all about him, he saw the dusty antiques and mementos of long-ago gentility. Presently, a young woman was renting this upper floor while Leigh exiled himself to the basement. Leigh, however, kept some of his clothes, including shoes, in the upstairs back bedroom. There was a record player in the upstairs dining room and downstairs bedroom, and many records and accessories. He had a Sharp TV and a Sharp video recorder. He had a second video camera, lenses, a black video convertible recorder and stereo adaptor, and many, many tapes. There was a lot of pet equipment.