Hitmen (17 page)

Just a few weeks later – on 21 September 1989 – Stephanie, Stafford and his great pal Ricky Rogers teamed up for what they hoped would be a third-time-lucky bid to murder Phillip Bogdanoff. This time the murder would be carried out on Bogdanoff’s favourite El Capitan Beach.

That hot, sunny morning, the couple went on to the beach where they stripped off all their clothes and began topping up their all-over tans. El Capitan beach was very busy that day. The surf was crashing down forming huge slicks of bubbly froth on the sand as sun-worshippers lay completely naked on the strip of beach reserved exclusively for ‘nature lovers’.

Diana and Phillip had settled in their favourite spot, just a few yards from the water’s edge. It was the perfect location for him to cast his eyes across the beautiful suntanned oiled bodies that lay nearby soaking up the sunshine. Diana was
more fidgety than usual. But then she did have rather a lot on her mind that day.

Instead of laying flat on her back as she normally did, Diana found herself sitting up with her knees close to her ample breasts as she watched the crowds from a distance. Watching. Waiting. Watching. Waiting. When Phillip looked across at Diana he noticed his wife’s behaviour, but it never crossed his mind she was actually on the lookout for two fully clothed bodies. And the more Diana Bogdanoff looked out for her accomplices, the more she found herself ogling the naked men wandering in her immediate vicinity. One naked
sun-worshipper
even tried to give her the come-on because she’d been gazing past his right shoulder at two men loitering near the beach wall. At last the two would-be killers were in her sights. Reassured, she lay on her back and relaxed with a relieved smile on her face. It was just after 11am and the countdown to the end of Phillip Bogdanoff’s life had begun.

A few minutes later, the shadow of two men loomed over Phillip and Diana Bogdanoff.

‘Hey, man. You gotta joint?’

Phillip Bogdanoff squinted up at them through the strong sunlight.

‘Excuse me? What did you say?’

‘I said. You got some grass, man?’

Phillip was more a dry martini-type of character. Cannabis had never been on his menu.

‘I don’t smoke,’ he replied nervously.

There was something about these two men he did not like. Diana didn’t move an inch.

The two men then glanced at each other nervously. One of
them pulled a pistol out from under his shirt and pointed it straight at Bogdanoff, who tried to get up off the sand. Then the gunman pulled the trigger. The bullet ripped through Bogdanoff’s cheek, spinning him off balance. That first wound was neat but ineffective. Brian Stafford leaned even nearer to his victim and fired again. This time Phillip Bogdanoff’s head recoiled and he slumped back on to the sand. Limp. Naked. Bloody.

Then Diana Bogdanoff screamed in terror as she looked down at her own breasts and realised her dead husband’s blood was splattered all over her naked body. The appalling reality of the murder sparked off plenty of real shock and emotion. She even felt bits of her husband’s grist and tissue lodged in her long blonde hair.

Meanwhile gunman Stafford coolly and calmly put his pistol back inside his shirt and started running away from the couple with his accomplice. They heard Diana’s cries for help and looked around for a moment to see her kneeling naked and bloody over the corpse of her husband – the man she’d ordered them to kill.

The secluded calm of that nudists’ paradise was soon cruelly interrupted by dozens of police, paramedics, coroners’ officers, press and onlookers desperate to get a glimpse of the naked guy blasted to bits on the beach in front of his wife. Just a few yards from where her husband had been killed sat the shaking figure of Diana Bogdanoff. Wearing a pullover covering her blood-spattered skin, the hysterical widow was being comforted by a tourist who just happened to be walking by moments after the shooting and had immediately offered her his jumper for cover.

‘They shot my husband. They shot my husband.’

She just kept repeating the words over and over again. It was an impressive performance. No doubt she probably did feel a certain sense of bereavement and shock. Who wouldn’t? A tearful Diana told police about the two strangers who came up to her husband and ended his life just because he told them he didn’t smoke pot.

‘Phillip didn’t do anything,’ she weeped. ‘He didn’t say anything to make them angry. He was just sittin’ here.’

Detectives were genuinely baffled and all said later how sorry they felt for that poor, grieving widow. ‘It was a senseless, cruel killing,’ said one cop on the TV news that night. The town of Santa Barbara was soon virtually under siege from the media, and local residents genuinely feared that the mystery killers might strike again at any time.

But the only place Brian Stafford and his friend Ricky Rogers were heading was back to their homes in Bakersfield with the beautiful Stephanie snuggling between them on the bench seats of their old Chevy. Stephanie was delighted to have helped her poor, defenceless mother escape her nightmare marriage to a monster. And now she’d have a nice home to live in and a good income from his life insurance.

Back in Bakersfield, the murdering threesome broke open a few beers and proposed a toast at Stephanie’s house.

‘To a job well done.’

The beer bottles clinked and then Stephanie snapped on the TV to find a distressed Diana Bogdanoff pouring out her heart and soul to the news channels. The tragic widow shed numerous tears for the cameras, wrung her hands and gave a wonderfully convincing performance. The happy killers
looked on and laughed. It had all gone even better than they’d expected.

A few minutes later Ricky Rogers left the house. Stephanie climbed into bed with her athletic lover Brian Stafford and they made the same sort of hot, passionate love that her mother prided herself on achieving every time she slept with yet another young stud. Like mother, like daughter.

Santa Barbara detectives Russ Birchim and Fred Ray were seasoned homicide cops who’d investigated just about every type of murder over the years. But the cold-blooded slaying of Phillip Bogdanoff truly baffled them. As one of them later recalled: ‘No one gets killed over a joint. Certainly not on a nudist beach in broad daylight.’

Birchim and Ray soon concluded that Bogdanoff’s grieving widow must have had something to do with it. But Diana Bogdanoff wasn’t about to throw up her entire life by confessing to a crime she knew they couldn’t pin on her, so she stuck rigidly to her story about the shooting of her loving husband. Even neighbours at the El Capitan Ranch Park had only good things to say about the Bogdanoffs: ‘Nice couple’; ‘Kept themselves to themselves’; ‘A sweet pair’.

Detectives Birchim and Ray plugged away with composite sketches of the two killers based on eyewitness reports. Hundreds of likely-looking suspects were pulled in, interrogated and cleared over the following month. Birchim and Ray chewed over a few other possible theories. Maybe the two gunmen were a couple of screwballs high on dope. Perhaps it was all a case of mistaken identity. But whatever their suspicions about the case there was no hard and fast
evidence to go on. The two cops were swimming around in the dark.

Then an anonymous caller phoned into a police informants’ hotline in Bakersfield. The man said he had information about the nude beach murder in Santa Barbara. He said he’d met the two men who carried out the killing. ‘I thought they were joking,’ he told the police operator. ‘Then I saw the newspaper reports and realised they’d really done it.’ The tipster then named the people involved in the killing. The first name on his list was Raymond Stock, the man involved in the initial aborted attempt on the life of Phillip Bogdanoff.

When detectives called at Stock’s home in Bakersfield he immediately confessed his involvement. The next one on the detectives’ ‘hit list’ was Danny Kaplan. He had a similar story to tell. But this time he furnished the police with the names of Stafford and his pal Ricky Rogers as well as alleged ringleader Stephanie, daughter of Diana Bogdanoff. Kaplan also told officers how Stafford, Rogers and Stephanie came back to her apartment after the actual killing, bragging about what they’d just done.

‘They were saying, “We did it. We did it. We blew the sucker away.”’

Within days, the gang of three assassins had been rounded up. Then Diana Bogdanoff returned from a trip to visit relatives in Washington state and found a team of detectives waiting for her at Santa Barbara Airport. But she continued to stick rigidly to her story that she was innocent of any involvement in her husband’s death.

Then cops had a big break when Diana’s first husband
came forward and revealed that when the couple had divorced in 1980, she told him: ‘You’re lucky you’re still alive. I tried to hire two men to kill you.’ It then emerged that Diana Bogdanoff had been addicted to the idea of killing lovers and husbands for years. Was Phillip Bogdanoff the first time she’d really gone through with her murderous plans? Armed with that evidence the police arrested Diana Bogdanoff and charged her with first-degree murder.

In March 1991, at the Santa Barbara County Superior Court, Stephanie pleaded guilty to second-degree murder and received a 15-year-to-life sentence. Boyfriend Brian Stafford pleaded guilty to first-degree murder and got 33 years after agreeing to testify against Diana Bogdanoff. Ricky Rogers entered a plea of no contest to one charge of voluntary manslaughter. He was sentenced to no more than ten years in jail because he did not pull the trigger.

In May 1991, Diana Bogdanoff’s second trial (her first one was abandoned as a mistrial because the jury couldn’t agree a verdict) was held at the same courthouse. It took jurors just two hours to find her guilty of first-degree murder. She was also found guilty of planning the murder for financial gain and lying in wait for the killing to take place. Under those ‘special circumstances’ she was given an automatic life sentence without parole.

T
heir eyes met across a crowded supermarket. At first, Cecilia Salazar did not even notice the look of lust from her work colleague. A few hours later, their hands brushed as they both busily restacked the shelves after closing time. Again, Cecilia Salazar had no idea of the effect she was having on her workmate.

Next day, Cecilia’s secret admirer tried to catch a glimpse of her curvaceous figure at every opportunity. When the
42-year
-old mother-of-two leaned down to pick up some tins of beans that had fallen on the supermarket floor, she looked up to find her co-worker, 23-year-old Maria Serrato, standing over her with both hands on her hips. The younger woman had a glazed look in her eyes – and she couldn’t stop staring at Cecilia.

Maria wanted to turn her passionate fantasies about Cecilia into reality. She couldn’t get Cecilia out of her mind and
longed to be locked in an embrace with her. Maria Serrato was a striking-looking woman with long, flowing dark hair that was as thick as the black loom of the night. Her sparkling, dark, saucer-shaped eyes were constantly snapping around, searching for the love she never got as a child. Cecilia was precisely the opposite. She looked younger than her years and was a much softer, gentler woman with a motherly disposition. But all that made Maria even more attracted to her. Maybe she would provide a shoulder for her to cry on in times of need.

Back in that Los Angeles supermarket, the manager was just closing up the store when Maria noticed Cecilia slipping into the storeroom at the back of the shop to get changed before going home to her husband and children. Maria headed swiftly and silently after her. Seconds later, she entered the dark and shadowy storage room.

‘Who’s that?’ Cecilia called out when she heard the door creak open.

‘It’s only me,’ replied Maria.

Cecilia relaxed. She was worried it might have been that lecherous assistant manager who’d tried to maul her a few months earlier at the staff Christmas party. Through the shadows, Maria studied the outline of Cecilia’s body as she stood there in a pair of pantyhose and bra while changing into a dress. Maria moved towards her.

‘Maria, what’s wrong?’

‘Nothin’,’ replied the younger woman, who was just inches from Cecilia by this stage.

Maria looked deep into Cecilia’s eyes before reaching out and stroking the back of her neck. Then she pulled the older
woman towards her and their lips met. Soon their tongues were slurping hungrily into each other’s mouths. Then Maria started trailing her mouth downwards.

After they’d made love, Cecilia told a friend that the lust between her and Maria was like no other sexual encounter she’d ever experienced in her life. When she finally got home later that evening to the apartment in nearby Burbank that she shared with her husband and two children, she was physically and emotionally drained. Her mind kept flashing back to the scene in that storeroom. She couldn’t seem to shake free of those vivid scenes of lust and passion.

‘What’s wrong?’ asked her husband, Jose, who worked long hours in a factory to help pay for the family’s modest existence.

‘Nothing,’ replied Cecilia. But he knew she was lying.

Next evening, Cecilia and Maria couldn’t continue their passionate affair in the storeroom because some of the other workers were also staying late to stack shelves. Maria was irritated that she couldn’t seduce her older lover once again. She had been thinking about their sexual encounter virtually every minute of that day.

That evening, as Cecilia walked towards the supermarket exit, Maria ran after her, desperate for one longing kiss just to seal their love for one another. Cecilia pulled away as Maria grabbed her by the hair and tried to kiss her fully on the lips, too besotted to care who might see them.

Across the street, Jose Salazar was waiting in his car to pick his wife up. He watched in horror as his wife turned away from the younger woman and immediately realised that his
instincts about his wife having a lover were correct – except that she was having an affair with another woman.

Cecilia and Jose sat in silence on the drive home. Jose, 37, was too shocked to say anything. This was the ultimate insult to his macho, Mexican pride. How could she want another woman? What had driven her into the arms of another female? It was sick and twisted and he was appalled. Then he decided he must act fast to save his marriage so he brought up the subject at dinner that night.

‘I saw her with you.’

Cecilia tried to ignore the remark at first. But the wall of silence between them only confirmed her husband’s worst fears.

‘Have you made love to her?’

She nodded her head and broke down in tears. She knew the hurt must have been unbearable for him, but she had to unload her guilt to someone.

‘I couldn’t help it. I’m so sorry. I really am.’

And Cecilia meant every word she said. If anyone had ever suggested she’d have sex with another woman she would have laughed in their face. But Jose’s priority was to guarantee that his wife would never sleep with another woman again.

‘I want you to stay away from her. Never let her near you again. D’you understand?’

Cecilia nodded and solemnly promised to do as her husband wished. She had no intention of risking the
break-up
of her family. She just wished she could turn the clock back and wipe out the memories of those encounters with Maria forever.

Next day in the supermarket, Cecilia avoided going near
Maria for most of the morning. But she could feel the younger woman’s eyes on her wherever she went in that supermarket. Eventually, Maria cornered Cecilia just before lunch break. Cecilia tried to tell her calmly that they could not see each other again.

But Maria snapped, ‘I want you to myself. You are mine. Not his.’ Clearly her obsession was not going to be that easy to ignore.

Cecilia ignored the remark and turned to walk away.

‘You will be
all
mine one day,’ screamed Maria.

Cecilia prayed that her lover would go away.

For the following week, Cecilia tried her hardest to avoid any contact with Maria. She went home in her supermarket uniform so she didn’t have to visit that storeroom where their affair had started. She even resisted the temptation to look in Maria’s direction whenever she appeared at one end of the supermarket while they were restacking shelves.

Then early one morning, Cecilia was up a ladder against a high shelf when Maria stopped below her and let her hand stroke the top of her lover’s thigh. Cecilia looked down and snapped, ‘Stop it, Maria. It’s all over.’

‘No, it isn’t. I want you to myself. I need you.’

Cecilia sighed with anxiety and ignored Maria’s outburst, she was beginning to realise that the younger woman would be very difficult to shake off. But she could never have guessed what lengths Maria was prepared to go to in order to have her to herself.

The two 15-year-old boys had been expert shots since the age of 12, thanks to their school-less lives on the mean streets of
north Hollywood. So they weren’t that surprised when Maria Serrato contacted them through a friend of her sister’s.

‘I want you to hit this guy. He’s gotta die. If he doesn’t, then I ain’t payin’ you a cent.’

The two youths looked at each other and shrugged their shoulders.

‘How much?’

‘One hundred dollars.’

‘You kiddin’ me?’ said one of the teenagers.

‘Take it or leave it.’ Maria snapped. After ten minutes of haggling, the boys were convinced by Maria that it would be an easy hit, so they might as well do it for a hundred measly bucks.

A few days later, Maria picked the two boys up from their homes and drove them to Cecilia’s apartment, parked up her truck and waited. After a few minutes, she spotted the unmistakable shape of the woman she wanted to make passionate love to emerge from the apartment and get into her own car to collect her husband from work.

‘That’s her. Now just wait here for her to return with her husband and hit him when they pull up.’ There was a quiver in Maria’s voice, but it wasn’t nerves that were causing it. She just couldn’t wait to make love to Cecilia again. I’ll soon have you to myself, she thought. So Maria dropped the two boys outside the apartment block and drove around the corner to a spot where she could see everything, but would not be observed by them.

Jose Salazar was in a pretty good mood when his wife picked him up from work that evening. They seemed much happier
than they had been for years. Strangely, the emotional upheaval of that affair with Maria had cleared the air between them. Now they were actually communicating together and even enjoying a rejuvenated sex life. Cecilia sometimes felt pangs of guilt about the whole business – especially since Maria’s expert seduction of her had actually helped improve her sexual technique with her husband.

Neither Jose nor Cecilia noticed the two teenagers loitering on the worn-out patch of grass in front of their apartment block as they parked up that evening. And they certainly didn’t see the semi-automatic .32-calibre gun hidden under one of their shirts. It was Cecilia who eventually saw them first approaching. But by the time they started pumping bullets into her husband, it was too late. The glazed look on the faces of those kids showed absolutely no emotion. They’d just earned themselves $100. They neither knew nor cared who their victim was.

Fifty yards away, Maria Serrato watched with cool satisfaction as Jose Salazar’s body twitched and jerked when the bullets rained down on him. The boys came running around the corner and ripped open the passenger door to her truck. The threesome then sped away into the busy streets filled with commuters trying to get home after a hard day’s work.

‘How ’bout a bonus?’ asked one of the kids hopefully as Maria carefully negotiated the queues of traffic on to the nearby motorway.

‘No way. We made a deal.’

She handed over the $100 in crisp $20 notes. The boys didn’t bother counting it. They could see it was the right amount.

That night, Maria lay awake in her apartment for hours. She couldn’t stop thinking about how she’d soon be making warm, passionate love to Cecilia once again. She fantasised about all the things they would do to each other. She longed to have Cecilia there in the bed next to her – but at least she would not have to wait much longer.

A few weeks later, Cecilia returned to her job in the supermarket following her husband’s brutal murder. She had no choice but to go back to work because someone had to feed the kids and pay the bills. And her lover Maria couldn’t keep away from her. Within minutes, she trapped Cecilia in a quiet corridor and tried to push her against a wall to kiss her. Cecilia rejected her because her love for her husband had grown even more now that that he was dead.

When Maria told her proudly that she’d hired those boys to kill Jose, Cecilia was appalled. That lunchtime, she went to the detective investigating her husband’s murder and informed them that Maria had commissioned the hit on her husband.

On 9 March 1993, Maria Serrato was found guilty of
first-degree
murder and sentenced to life in prison. The two schoolboys – not named because they were only 15 – were sentenced to youth authority until they turned 25 because they were too young to be given any heavier punishment.

‘This is the most bizarre murder case I have ever been involved in,’ said investigator Detective David Gabriel, of Burbank police, in Southern California. ‘Never in all my years as a cop did I ever expect to be investigating such a killing. Mrs Salazar has admitted she had an affair with Serrato but
she is now trying to put this whole nightmare behind her. She was sitting there in that truck when those boys pumped their bullets into her husband. It is something she will never ever be able to forget. Mrs Salazar has now moved to a secret address to try and put the pain and anguish of those awful events behind her.’

The two 15-year-olds arrested for the hit on Jose Salazar were freed less than two years later after serving their sentences in youth authority detention centres in northern California. They were paroled for good behaviour. Prison insiders said that the two boys were ‘treated like heroes’ because of the seriousness of their crime. ‘They were considered tough guys compared with most of the other kids because of the severity of the case,’ said one source.

As Detective Gabriel added, ‘Those kids were under age and that’s the law even if it might seem like a light sentence.’