Helter Skelter: The True Story of the Manson Murders (16 page)

Susan just smiled and said, “Huh-uh.”
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L
ater Virginia Graham would be unable to remember exactly how long they had talked—she would estimate it as being between thirty-five minutes and an hour, maybe longer. She would also admit confusion as to whether some details were discussed that afternoon or in subsequent conversations, and the order in which some topics came up.

But the content she remembered. That, she would later say, she would never forget as long as she lived.

She asked the big question first: Why, Sadie, why? Because, Susan replied, we “wanted to do a crime that would shock the world, that the world would have to stand up and take notice.” But why the Tate house? Susan’s answer was chilling in its simplicity: “It is isolated.” The place had been picked at random. They had known the owner, Terry Melcher,
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Doris Day’s son, from about a year back, but they didn’t know who would be there, and it didn’t matter; one person or ten, they had gone there prepared to do everybody in.

“In other words,” Virginia asked, “you didn’t know Jay Sebring or any of the other people?”

“No,” Susan replied.

“Do you mind me asking questions? I mean, I’m curious.” Susan didn’t mind. She told Virginia that she had kind brown eyes, and if you look through a person’s eyes you can see the soul.

Virginia told Susan she wanted to know exactly how it had come down. “I’m dying of curiosity,” she added.

Susan obliged. Before leaving the ranch, Charlie had given them instructions. They had worn dark clothing. They also brought along a change of clothes in the car. They drove up to the gate, then drove back down to the bottom of the hill, parked the car, and walked back up.

Virginia interrupted, “Then it wasn’t just you?”

“Oh, no,” Susan told her. “There were four of us.” In addition to herself, there were two other girls and a man.

When they reached the gate, Susan continued, “he” cut the telephone wires. Virginia again interrupted to ask whether he wasn’t worried he’d cut the electrical wires, extinguishing the lights and alerting the people that something was wrong. Susan replied, “Oh, no, he knew just what to do.” Virginia got the impression, less from her words than from the way she said them, that the man had been there before.

Susan didn’t mention how they got past the gate. She said they had killed the boy first. When Virginia asked why, Susan replied that he had seen them. “And he had to shoot him. He was shot four times.”

At this point Virginia became somewhat confused. Later she would state, “I think she told me—I’m not positive—I think she said that this Charles shot him.” Earlier Virginia had got the impression that although Charlie had instructed them what to do, he hadn’t come along. But now it appeared he had.

What Virginia didn’t know was that there were two men named Charles in the Family: Charles Manson and Charles “Tex” Watson. The complications this simple misunderstanding would later cause would be immense.

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n entering the house—Susan didn’t say how they got in—they saw a man on the couch in the living room, and a girl, whom Susan identified as “Ann Folger,” sitting in a chair reading a book. She didn’t look up.

Virginia asked her how she knew their names. “We didn’t,” Susan replied, “not until the next day.”

At some point the group apparently split up, Susan going on to the bedroom, while the others stayed in the living room.

“Sharon was sitting up in bed. Jay was sitting on the edge of the bed talking to Sharon.”

“Oh, really?” Virginia asked. “What did she have on?”

“She had on a bikini bra and panties.”

“You’re kidding. And she was pregnant?”

“Yeah. And they looked up, and were they surprised!”

“Wow! Wasn’t there some kind of a big hassle?”

“No, they were too surprised and they knew we meant business.”

Susan skipped on. It was as if she was “tripping out,” jumping abruptly from one subject to another. Suddenly they were in the living room and Sharon and Jay were strung up with nooses around their necks so if they tried to move they would choke. Virginia asked why they’d put a hood over Sebring’s head. “We didn’t put any hood over his head,” Susan corrected her. “That’s what the papers said, Sadie.” “Well, there wasn’t any hood,” Susan reiterated, getting quite insistent about it.

Then the other man [Frykowski] broke and ran for the door. “He was full of blood,” Susan said, and she stabbed him three or four times. “He was bleeding and he ran to the front part,” out the door and onto the lawn, “and would you believe that he was there hollering ‘Help, help, somebody please help me,’ and nobody came?”

Bluntly, without elaboration, “Then we finished him off.”

Virginia wasn’t asking any questions now. What had begun as a little girl’s fairy tale had become a horror-filled nightmare.

There was no mention of what had happened to Abigail Folger or Jay Sebring, only that “Sharon was the last to die.” On saying this, Susan laughed.

Susan said that she had held Sharon’s arms behind her, and that Sharon looked at her and was crying and begging, “Please don’t kill me. Please don’t kill me. I don’t want to die. I want to live. I want to have my baby. I want to have my baby.”

Susan said she looked Sharon straight in the eye and said, “Look, bitch, I don’t care about you. I don’t care if you’re going to have a baby. You had better be ready. You’re going to die, and I don’t feel anything about it.”

Then Susan said, “In a few minutes I killed her and she was dead.”

After killing Sharon, Susan noticed there was blood on her hand. She tasted it. “Wow, what a trip!” she told Virginia. “I thought ‘To taste death, and yet give life.’” Had she ever tasted blood? she asked Virginia. “It’s warm and sticky and nice.”

Virginia managed to ask a question. Hadn’t it bothered her to kill Sharon Tate, with her pregnant?

Susan looked at Virginia quizzically and said, “Well, I thought you understood. I loved her, and in order for me to kill her I was killing part of myself when I killed her.”

Virginia replied, “Oh, yeah, I do understand.”

She had wanted to cut out the baby, Susan said, but there hadn’t been time. They wanted to take out the eyes of the people, and squash them against the walls, and cut off their fingers. “We were going to mutilate them, but we didn’t have a chance to.”

Virginia asked her how she felt after the murders. Susan replied, “I felt so elated; tired, but at peace with myself. I knew this was just the beginning of helter skelter. Now the world would listen.”

Virginia didn’t understand what she meant by “helter skelter,” and Susan tried to explain it to her. However, she talked so quickly and with such obvious excitement that Virginia had trouble following. As Virginia understood it, there was this group, these chosen people, that Charlie had brought together, and they were elected, this new society, to go out, all over the country and all over the world, to pick out people at random and execute them, to release them from this earth. “You have to have a real love in your heart to do this for people,” Susan explained.

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our or five times while Susan was talking, Virginia had to caution her to keep her voice down, that someone might hear. Susan smiled and said she wasn’t worried about that. She was very good at playing crazy.

After they’d left the Tate residence, Susan continued, she discovered that she had lost her knife. She thought maybe the dog had got it. “You know how dogs are sometimes.” They had thought about going back to look for it but had decided against it. She had also left her hand print on a desk. “It dawned on me afterwards,” Susan said, “but my spirit was so strong that obviously it didn’t even show up, or they would have had me by now.”

As Virginia understood it, after leaving the Tate residence, they had apparently changed clothes in the car. Then they had driven some distance, stopping at a place where there was a fountain or water outside, to wash their hands. Susan said a man came outside and wanted to know what they were doing. He started to holler at them. “And,” Susan asked, “guess who he was?”

“I don’t know,” Virginia replied.

“It was the sheriff of Beverly Hills!”

Virginia said she didn’t think Beverly Hills had a sheriff.

“Well,” Susan said petulantly, “the sheriff or mayor or something.”

The man had started to reach into the car to grab the keys, and “Charlie turned on the key. Boy, we made it. We laughed all the way,” Susan said, adding, “If he had only known!”

For a moment Susan remained silent. Then, with her little girl’s smile, she asked, “You know the other two the next night?”

Virginia flashed on the grocery store owner and his wife, the LaBiancas. “Yeah,” she said, “was that you?”

Susan winked and said, “What do you think?”

“But that’s part of the plan,” she continued. “And there’s more—”

But Virginia had heard enough for one day. She excused herself to go take a shower.

V
irginia would later recall thinking, She’s got to be kidding! She’s making all this up. This is just too wild, too fantastic!

But then she remembered what Susan was in for—first degree murder.

Virginia decided not to say anything to anyone. It was just too incredible. She also decided, if possible, to avoid Susan.

The following day, however, Virginia walked over to Ronnie Howard’s bed to tell her something. Susan, who was lying on her own bed, interrupted: “Virginia, Virginia, remember that beautiful cat I was telling you about? I want you to dig on his name. Now listen, his name is Manson—
Man’s Son!
” She repeated it several times to make sure Virginia understood. She said it in a tone of childlike wonder.

S
he just couldn’t keep it to herself any longer. It was just too much. The first time she and Ronnie Howard were alone together, Virginia Graham told her what Susan Atkins had said. “Hey, what do you do?” she asked Ronnie. “If this is true—My God, this is terrible. I wish she hadn’t told me.”

Ronnie thought Sadie was “making it all up. She could have gotten it out of the papers.”

The only way to know for sure, they decided, would be for Virginia to question her further, to see if she could learn something that only one of the killers would know.

Virginia had an idea how she could do this without arousing Susan’s suspicions. Though she hadn’t mentioned it to Susan Atkins, Virginia Graham had more than a passing interest in the Tate homicides. She had known Jay Sebring. A girl friend, who was working as a manicurist for Sebring, had introduced them at the Luau some years ago, shortly after Sebring opened his shop on Fairfax. It was a casual thing—he was neither client nor friend, just someone you’d nod and say “Hi” to at a party or in a restaurant. It was an odd coincidence, Susan copping out to her. But there was another coincidence even odder. Virginia had been to 10050 Cielo Drive. Back in 1962 she and her then husband and another girl had been looking for a quiet place, away from things, and had learned 10050 Cielo Drive was up for lease. There had been no one there to show them around, so they had just looked in the windows of the main house. She could remember little about it, only that it looked like a red barn, but the next day at lunch she told Susan about having been there and asked if the interior was still decorated in gold and white. It was just a guess. Susan replied, “Huh-uh,” but didn’t elaborate. Virginia then told her about knowing Sebring, but Susan didn’t appear very interested. This time Susan wasn’t as talkative, but Virginia persisted, picking up miscellaneous bits and pieces of information.

They’d met Terry Melcher through Dennis Wilson, one of the Beach Boys rock group. They—Charlie, Susan, and the others—had lived with Dennis for a time. Virginia got the idea they were hostile toward Melcher, that he was too interested in money. Virginia also learned that the Tate murders had taken place between midnight and one in the morning; that “Charlie is love, pure love”; and that when you stab someone “it feels good when the knife goes in.”

She also learned that besides the Hinman, Tate, and LaBianca murders, “there’s more—and more before…There’s also three people out in the desert…”

B
its and pieces. Susan had said nothing that would establish whether she was or wasn’t telling the truth.

That afternoon Susan walked over and sat down on Virginia’s bed. Virginia had been leafing through a movie magazine. Susan saw it and began talking. The story she related, Virginia would say much later, was even more bizarre than what Susan had already told her. It was so incredible that Virginia didn’t even mention it to Ronnie Howard. No one would believe it, she decided. For Susan Atkins, in one spurt of non-stop talking, gave her a “death list” of persons who would be murdered next. All were celebrities. She then, according to Virginia, described in gruesome detail exactly how Elizabeth Taylor, Richard Burton, Tom Jones, Steve McQueen, and Frank Sinatra would die.

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n Monday, November 10, Susan Atkins had a visitor at Sybil Brand, Sue Bartell, who told her about the death of Zero. After Sue left, Susan told Ronnie Howard. Whether she embellished it or not is unknown. According to Susan, one of the girls had been holding Zero’s hand when he died. When the gun went off, “he climaxed all over himself.”

Susan didn’t seem disturbed to hear of Zero’s death. On the contrary, it excited her. “Imagine how beautiful to be there when it happened!” she told Ronnie.

O
n Wednesday, November 12, Susan Atkins was taken to court for a preliminary hearing on the Hinman murder. While there, she heard Sergeant Whiteley testify that it was Kitty Lutesinger—not Bobby Beausoleil—who had implicated her. On being returned to jail, Susan told Virginia that the prosecution had a surprise witness; but she wasn’t worried about her testimony: “Her life’s not worth anything.”