Helter Skelter: The True Story of the Manson Murders (52 page)

Two weeks before the start of the Tate-LaBianca trial, Manson requested, and obtained, the substitution of Irving Kanarek for Ronald Hughes.

I asked for a conference in chambers. Once there, I pointed out that the legal issues in this case were tremendously complex. Even with attorneys known to handle matters expeditiously, the trial could last four or more months. “But,” I added, “it is my frank opinion that if Mr. Kanarek is permitted to represent Mr. Manson, the case could last several years.” I noted, “It is common knowledge among the legal profession that Mr. Kanarek is a professional obstructionist. I believe the man is conscientious. I believe he is sincere.” However, I continued, “there is no way for the Court to stop Mr. Kanarek. Even holding him in contempt will not stop this man, because he will gladly spend the night in jail.”

Rather than have the trial become “a burlesque on justice,” I had an alternative suggestion, I told the Court. It was one I had considered for a long time and, though I had discussed it with Aaron, I knew it would come as a surprise to everyone else.

“As a possible solution, the prosecution has no objection to permitting Mr. Manson to represent himself, as he has desired throughout, and let him have an attorney of his choice to assist him…”

Manson looked at me with a startled expression. This was probably the last thing he had expected to hear from the prosecution.

Although I was hoping that, given this opportunity, Manson would dump Kanarek, I was sincere in making the suggestion. From the start Manson had maintained that only he could speak for himself. He’d strongly implied that, failing in this, he’d make trouble. And there was no question in my mind that this was his reason for choosing Kanarek.

Too, even though lacking formal education, Manson was bright. Having dominated them in the past, he could cross-examine such prosecution witnesses as Linda Kasabian, Brooks Poston, and other ex–Family members with probably more effectiveness than many “straight” attorneys. And, to assist him in legal matters, he would have not only his own lawyer but three other experienced attorneys alongside him at the counsel table. Also, looking far ahead, I was concerned that the denial of Manson’s request to defend himself might be an issue on appeal.

Aaron then quoted Manson’s own statement, made in Judge Dell’s court, that Kanarek was the worst man he could pick.

Kanarek objected so strongly to the proceedings that Judge Older remarked, “Now the things that Mr. Stovitz and Mr. Bugliosi said about you, Mr. Kanarek, while they might appear to be unfair, there certainly is, as a matter of common knowledge among the judges in this court, a good deal of truth in what they say. I am not impugning your personal motives, but you do have a reputation for taking an inordinately long time to do what someone else can do in a much shorter period…”

However, Older said, the only reason he was considering the matter was that he wanted to be absolutely sure Manson wanted Kanarek as his attorney. His remarks before Judge Dell had injected some doubt on that point.

In one respect, Manson replied, Kanarek would be the best attorney in town; “in a lot of respects, he would be the worst attorney that I could take.” But, Manson continued, “I don’t think there is any attorney that can represent me as well as I can myself. I am smart enough to realize that I am not an attorney, and I will sit behind these men and I won’t make a scene. I am not here to make trouble…

“There is a lot involved here that does not meet the eye. A person is born, he goes to school, he learns what he is told in a book, and he lives his life by what he knows. The only thing he knows is what someone has told him. He is educated; he does what an educated person does.

“But go out of this realm, you go into a generation gap, a free-love society, you get into insane drugs or smoking marijuana.” And in this other world the reality differs, Manson noted. Here experience alone is the teacher; here you discover “there is no way that you can know the taste of water unless you drink it or unless it has rained on you or unless you jump in the river.”

T
HE
C
OURT
“All I want to do, Mr. Manson, is find out if you are happy with Mr. Kanarek or if you have second thoughts.”

M
ANSON
“I thought I explained that. I would not be happy with anyone but myself. No man can represent me.”

I asked the Court’s permission to question Manson. Though Kanarek objected, Charlie was agreeable. I asked him if he had consulted the other defense attorneys as to whether he should be represented by Kanarek. I had heard that two of them, Fitzgerald and Reiner, were very unhappy about Kanarek’s entry into the case.

M
ANSON
“I don’t ask other men’s opinions. I have my own.”

B
UGLIOSI
“Do you feel Mr. Kanarek can give you a fair trial?”

M
ANSON
“I do. I feel
you
can give me a fair trial. You showed me your fairness already.”

B
UGLIOSI
“I will give you a fair trial, Charlie, but I am out to convict you.”

M
ANSON
“What’s a fair trial?”

B
UGLIOSI
“That’s when the truth comes out.”

Declaring, “It would be a miscarriage of justice to permit you to represent yourself in a case having the complications this case has,” Older again asked Manson, “Are you affirming Mr. Kanarek as your attorney?”

“I am forced into a situation,” Manson replied. “My second alternative is to cause you as much trouble as possible.”

A little over a week later we’d get our first sample of what he had in mind.

O
n being taken to Patton State Hospital in January, sixteen-year-old Dianne Lake had been labeled “schizophrenic” by a staff psychologist. Though I knew the defense would probably try to use this to discredit her testimony, I wasn’t too worried, since psychologists are not doctors and are not qualified to make medical diagnoses. The staff psychiatrists, who were doctors, said her problems were emotional, not mental: behavioral disorders of adolescence plus possible drug dependence. They also felt she had made excellent progress and were now sure she would be able to testify at the trial.

With Sergeant Patchett, I visited Patton in early June. The little ragamuffin I’d first seen in the jail in Independence now looked like any teenager. She was getting straight A’s in school, Dianne told me proudly; not until getting away from the Family, she said, had she realized how good life was. Now, looking back, she felt she had been in a “pit of death.”

In interviewing Dianne, I learned a number of things which hadn’t come out in her earlier interviews. While they were in the desert together, at Willow Springs, Patricia Krenwinkel had told her that she had dragged Abigail Folger from the bedroom into the living room of the Tate residence. And Leslie Van Houten, after admitting to her that she had stabbed someone, had commented that at first she had been reluctant to do so, but then she’d discovered the more you stabbed, the more fun it was.

Dianne also said that on numerous occasions, in June, July, and August of 1969, Manson had told the Family, “We have to be willing to kill pigs in order to help the black man start Helter Skelter.”

And several times—she believed it was in July, about a month before the Tate-LaBianca murders—Manson had also told them, “
I’m
going to have to start the revolution.”

The interview lasted several hours. One thing Dianne said struck me as very sad. Squeaky, Sandy, and the other girls in the Family could never love anyone else, not even their parents, she told me. “Why not?” I asked. “Because,” she replied, “they’ve given all their love to Charlie.”

I left Patton with the very strong feeling that Dianne Lake had now escaped that fate.

I
n court on June 9, Manson suddenly turned in his chair so his back was to the judge. “The Court has shown me no respect,” Manson said, “so I am going to show the Court the same thing.” When Manson refused to face the Court, Judge Older, after several warnings, had the bailiffs remove him from the courtroom. He was taken to the lockup adjoining the court, which was equipped with a speaker system so he could hear, though not participate in, the proceedings.

Although Older gave him several opportunities to return, on the understanding that he would agree to conduct himself properly, Manson rejected them.

W
e had not given up in our attempt to have Irving Kanarek taken off the case. On June 10, I filed a motion requesting an evidentiary hearing on the Kanarek-Hughes substitution. The thrust of my motion: Manson did not have the constitutional right to have Kanarek as his lawyer.

The right of counsel of one’s choice, I argued, was not an unlimited, unqualified, absolute right. This right was given to defendants seeking a favorable verdict for themselves. It was obvious from Manson’s statements that he wasn’t picking Kanarek for this reason, but rather to subvert, thwart, and paralyze the due and proper administration of justice. “And we submit that he cannot use the right to counsel of his choice in such an ignoble fashion.”

Kanarek responded that he would be glad to let the Court read the transcripts of his cases, to see if he used dilatory tactics. I thought I saw Judge Older wince at this, but I wasn’t sure. Older’s somber expression rarely changed. It was very difficult to guess what he was thinking.

In researching Kanarek’s record, I had learned something which was not part of my hour-long argument. For all his filibustering, disconnected ramblings, senseless motions, and wild, irresponsible charges, Irving Kanarek frequently scored points. He noted, for example, that our office hadn’t tried to challenge Ronald Hughes, who had never tried a case before, on the grounds that his representation might hurt Manson. And, in conclusion, Kanarek, very much to the point, asked that the prosecution’s motion be struck “on the basis there is no basis for it in law.”

I’d frankly admitted this in my argument, but had noted that this was “a situation so aggravated that it literally cries out to the Court to take a pioneer stand.”

Judge Older disagreed. My motion for an evidentiary hearing was denied.

Although District Attorney Younger had Older’s ruling appealed to the California Supreme Court, it was let stand. Though we had tried to save the taxpayers perhaps several million dollars and everyone involved a great deal of time and unnecessary effort, Irving Kanarek would remain on the Tate-LaBianca cases just as long as Charles Manson wanted him.

“I
f Your Honor does not respect Mr. Manson’s rights, you need not respect mine,” Susan Atkins said, rising and turning her back to the Court. Leslie Van Houten and Patricia Krenwinkel followed suit. When Older suggested that the defense attorneys confer with their clients, Fitzgerald admitted that would do little good, “because there is a minimum of client control in this case.” After several warnings, Older had the girls removed to one of the vacant jury rooms upstairs, and a speaker was placed there also.

I had mixed feelings about all this. If the girls parroted Manson’s actions during the trial, it would be additional evidence of his domination. However, their removal from the courtroom might also be considered reversible error on appeal, and the last thing we wanted was to have to try the whole case over again.

Under the current law,
Allen
vs.
Illinois
, defendants can be removed from a courtroom if they engage in disruptive conduct. Another case, however,
People
vs.
Zamora
, raised a subtler point. In that case, in which there were twenty-two defendants, the counsel tables were so situated that it was extremely difficult for the attorneys to communicate with their clients while court was in session. This led to a reversal by the Appellate Court, which ruled that the right of counsel implies the right of consultation between a defendant and his lawyer during the trial.

I mentioned this to Older, suggesting that some type of telephonic communication be set up. Older felt it unnecessary.

After the noon recess the girls professed a willingness to return. Speaking for all three, Patricia Krenwinkel told Older, “We should be able to be present at this play here.”

To Krenwinkel it was just that—a play. Remaining standing, she turned her back to the bench. Atkins and Van Houten immediately mimicked her. Older again ordered all three removed.

B
ringing all the defendants back into court the next day, Judge Older warned them that if they persisted in their conduct before a jury, they could badly jeopardize their cases. “So I would ask you to seriously reconsider what you are doing, because I think you are hurting yourselves.” After again attempting to revert to pro per status, Manson said, “O.K., then you leave me nothing. You can kill me now.”

Still standing, Manson bowed his head and stretched out his arms in a crucifixion pose. The girls quickly emulated him. When the deputies attempted to seat them, all resisted, Manson ending up scuffling with a deputy on the floor. Two deputies bodily carried him to the lockup, while the matrons took the girls out.

K
ANAREK
“I would ask medical assistance for Mr. Manson, Your Honor.”

T
HE
C
OURT
“I will ask the bailiff to check and see if he needs any. If he does, he will get it.”

He didn’t. Once in the lockup, out of sight of the press and spectators, Manson became an entirely different person. He donned another mask, that of the complaisant prisoner. Having spent more than half his life in reformatories and prisons, he knew the role all too well. Thoroughly “institutionalized,” he played by the rules, rarely causing trouble in the jail itself.