Bobby gets the worse denial I have ever heard. A denial of hope.
I hope he sues these guys against the wall.
Discuss.
...Truth has not special time of its own. Its hour is now — always and indeed then most truly when it seems unsuitable to actual circumstances. (Albert Schweitzer).....the truth about these murders has not been uncovered, but we believe the time for the truth is now. Join us, won't you?
A generation ago, Dennis Rice decided to throw his lot in with convicted killer and cult leader Manson. Older now, and evidently much wiser, Rice spends his time traveling to prisons worldwide telling his story of redemption. The former Manson Family member will tell his story at Vallejo's "The Door" - Christian Fellowship Church on Oct. 12, and the public is invited, Pastor Stuart Reblin said Tuesday.
During the free presentations in Vallejo, at 11 a.m. and 6:30 p.m., Rice, who now lives in Tempe, Ariz., said in a phone interview Tuesday that he will recount how he spent seven years in prison for trying to break Manson out, and how he later found God. He said he runs the nonprofit Free Indeed Ministries. His Web site is manson2jesus.com.
Rice will make a stop in Vallejo during a lecture tour of Bay Area correctional facilities including San Quentin and county facilities in Oakland and Martinez, Reblin said.
"I've never heard him before, but I've heard he shares his life story with the Manson gang and his life before he became a Christian," Reblin said. "I understand he communicates a very positive testimony of new life, and the ability of a person's life to change."
Rice says he was a loose cannon in 1960s Los Angeles when the Tate-LaBianca murders rocked the country in 1969.
"I was a jack-of-all- trades, when I wasn't stealing,"
Deciding "nothing short of the Second Coming of Christ or a revolution were necessary to solve America's problems," Rice went to visit Manson in jail. Based on that visit, he and his four children, age 2 to 10, moved in with "Manson Family" members who weren't already behind bars.
"We played music in the evenings and ate dinner together, and the ladies would go out Dumpster diving during the days to bring back food," Rice said. "And we planned for the day Charlie would be released."
IF YOU GO What: A free presentation by former Manson Family member Dennis Rice. When: 11 a.m. and 6:30 p.m. Oct. 12. Where: 'The Door' - Christian Fellowship Church, 315 Henry St., Vallejo. Information: 208-6914. |
There was a shared vision of the future, he said.
"Charlie and the others were convicted of the murders and sentenced to die," Rice said. "In order to save them we held up an Army surplus store to obtain enough guns to break them out of jail."
That didn't work out
as planned, and Rice spent the next seven years in prison, where he "was introduced to the real Jesus Christ," he said.
For the past 25 years, Rice has shared his life-altering experience with inmates nationwide about "the One who has come to set them free," he says.
"It was a cathartic moment, when I realized that Charlie wasn't
Jesus Christ, that I had based my whole life on something that was wrong and not true," he said.
Pastor Reblin said that having someone with as bizarre a tale as Rice's speak to his
congregation is an important learning opportunity.
"There's an odd fascination in our society with the criminal lifestyle," Reblin said. "Despite the glorification that goes on, there's a huge price to pay personally and societally, and (Rice) discusses the deception in that. And at a time when so many are searching for answers, we are very fortunate to have him coming to Vallejo."
• E-mail Rachel Raskin-Zrihen at RachelZ@thnewsnet.com or call 553-6824.
By DON THOMPSON, Associated Press Writer
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
(10-01) 15:50 PDT SACRAMENTO, (AP) --
After Patricia Wenskunas was assaulted by her personal trainer in 2002, she felt victimized a second time when prosecutors negotiated a plea agreement with her attacker without her knowledge.
Angered to action, she formed Crime Survivors Inc. after rallying 50 people outside the Orange County courthouse in what turned out to be a successful effort to oppose the plea deal. She doesn't want other crime victims to feel as helpless as she did before the rally.
"Criminals are read their rights. Victims are told, 'Just go on with your life,'" said Wenskunas, 39, who owns a catering business.
She is among the supporters of Proposition 9 on the Nov. 4 ballot, which seeks to place rights for crime victims in the state Constitution. Supporters say criminals are often coddled while victims are left to fend for themselves.
Opponents say the proposal would tip the scales of justice too far, potentially violating defendants' rights and conflicting with federal court rulings.
That initiative follows voter approval of the "Victims' Bill of Rights" in 1982. That measure wrote numerous victims' rights into law but not into the Constitution. It gave victims the right to be told when criminals are nearing release, to be notified of criminal proceedings and to participate in sentencing and parole hearings.
Proposition 9 goes further.
Prosecutors would be required to consult with victims on what charges to file, judges would have to consider victims' safety when setting bail, and victim restitution would get priority over fines and fees.
Victims could refuse to be interviewed or provide evidence, testimony or confidential information to defendants.
Under the initiative, criminals denied parole from their life sentences might not get another hearing for 15 years, and parolees could be sent back to prison without legal representation.
"What we're asking is equal justice," said Harriet Salarno of Auburn, president of Crime Victims United of California. "We're not taking anything away from the criminal. We're just asking the same rights be afforded to us in the Constitution."
Salarno formed Crime Victims United of California after her daughter, Catina, was murdered by a former boyfriend in 1979.
Jakada Imani also knows what it feels like to be victimized by violent crime, but says Proposition 9 goes too far.
He had two brothers wounded by gunfire in recent years. One brother was struck in the head by a stray bullet in Sacramento. The other was hit when Oakland gang members opened fire on a family gathering, killing his brother's best friend.
"This initiative can start to blur the line between accused and guilty," said Imani, executive director of the Oakland-based Ella Baker Center for Human Rights, which promotes alternatives to incarceration. "It tips over into politicizing victims and crime."
The measure could conflict with certain federal laws and court rulings.
It would reverse the state's agreement to provide attorneys to all ex-convicts facing revocation of their parole, an agreement struck in the settlement of a federal class-action lawsuit. Proposition 9 would require the state to provide attorneys only for parolees who can't afford to hire an attorney and can't represent themselves because they lack sufficient education or are mentally incapacitated.
It also would amend the state Constitution to prohibit releasing inmates early as part of a mandate to ease crowding in prisons or county jails. The Legislature and county boards of supervisors would be required to provide enough money to house inmates for their full sentences.
That runs counter to federal court orders capping the number of inmates who can be housed in 20 jails throughout the state. Twelve more counties have a self-imposed cap.
There is no cap on the state prison population, but a special panel of three federal judges could impose one after a trial scheduled for November.
Supporters and opponents of Proposition 9 agree that federal law or court decisions would supersede the state Constitution. Supporters said the initiative would allow alternatives to being jailed, such as home detention or using tracking devices.
The nonpartisan Legislative Analyst's Office projected that keeping inmates in jail or prison longer under Proposition 9 could cost the state and counties hundreds of millions of dollars a year. It estimated the state could save tens of millions of dollars annually by reducing parole hearings.
Currently, inmates serving life sentences are entitled to a hearing every one- to five years. The proposition would permit hearings every three- to 15 years. Inmates could petition for a quicker hearing if they present evidence of rehabilitation.
The proposition, which proponents dubbed "Marsy's Law," has a troubled history.
It's named for Marsy Nicholas, a 21-year-old University of California, Santa Barbara student who was murdered by her boyfriend in 1983. Marsy's mother was shocked to run into her daughter's killer days later at a grocery store, after he was released on bail without the family's knowledge. He eventually was convicted and died in prison.
The incident prompted Marsy's brother, Broadcom co-founder Henry T. Nicholas III, to spend $4.8 million to get Proposition 9 on the ballot.
But the billionaire was indicted in June on federal securities fraud and drug charges, alleging he spiked the drinks of business associates with Ecstasy and maintained a drug warehouse. He has pleaded not guilty.
In a further oddity, two imprisoned followers of 1960s cult leader Charles Manson challenged the official ballot arguments used by Proposition 9 supporters.
Bruce Davis and Leslie Van Houten, who have been denied parole repeatedly, objected to being named as examples of inmates who force taxpayers to "spend millions of dollars on hearings for dangerous criminals that have virtually no chance of release."
They argued they would have been freed long ago had it not been for their association with Manson and that their parole hearings cost taxpayers little. A Sacramento County judge dismissed their challenge in August.
Bruce Davis is serving two life sentences for two 1969 slayings. The state Board of Parole Hearings rejected Davis' release in a 9-0 decision Monday after a hearing at California State Prison, Solano.
State corrections officials say it was the 24th time his release has been rejected.
Davis was convicted of helping kill musician Gary Hinman in his Topanga Canyon home. He later helped murder former stuntman Donald "Shorty" Shea. The stuntman lived in Manson's commune at the Spahn movie ranch in Chatsworth.
The 65-year-old Davis has since married and fathered a daughter. He earned a doctorate in theology in prison and now ministers to other inmates.
His attorney, Michael Beckman, says his client is no longer a danger to society.
BRENDA NARRATING O.S.
After the sentences were read out in court, Sandra,
Squeaky, Michael and myself just pulled up stakes...
EXT. BRENDA’S HOUSE IN STOCKTON – DAY
An establishing shot.
BRENDA NARRATING O.S. cont.
… and set up shop in
what we always did… We set out on a life of
crime and pretended we’d live forever in perfect
bliss… We manufactured speed… We robbed…
We stole… And sometimes we killed…
INT. BRENDA’S HOUSE – DAY
Brenda, Michael and a MALE and FEMALE COUPLE with a BABY are sitting at the table cutting SPEED. The woman has some very distinctive TATTOOS ON HER HAND.
BRENDA NARRATING O.S.
We lived the criminal’s fantasy and when reality
impinged on our little world of criminal make
believe, we’d take drugs so we could continue the
fiction that the life we were living would never end…
(beat)
But of course, just below the surface we all knew
how it was going to end... Even if we weren’t
able to admit it to ourselves…
EXT. HIGHWAY – NIGHT
A POLICE CAR rolls down the highway.
INT. POLICE CAR – SAME MOMENT
A single COP sits behind the wheel, when he passes something OFF CAMERA that gets his attention.
COP’S POV – as he passes a deserted construction area off the side of the highway, where an old CHEVY SEDAN without any lights on is stirring up dust around an enormous, 30 TON EARTH MOVER with SOMEONE SITTING IN THE OPERATOR’S SEAT.
BACK TO SCENE
The Cop slows down in preparation for making a U-Turn.
EXT. CONSTRUCTION SITE – MOMENTS LATER – NIGHT
Brenda sits in the operator’s seat of the EARTH MOVER, fiddles around with the controls, while her latest boyfriend, Michael Montfort, stands below looking impatient.
MICHAEL
(annoyed)
I thought you said you knew how to work this
thing!
BRENDA
This one’s kind’a big, okay?!
INSERT ON CONTROLS – as Brenda pushes a button, making THE ENGINE TURN OVER and START UP..
BACK TO SCENE
MICHAEL
Okay, okay! Let’s get this thing moving!
BRENDA
Just hold on, goddamnit! I’m doing the best I can!
MICHAEL
Just hurry the fuck up!
Brenda pulls one of thirty levers.
WIDER – as the SHOVEL lurches upward.
MICHAEL
Now dig that fuckin’ hole!
BRENDA
Okay, okay!!!
Suddenly the entire area is lit up by intensely bright light.
ANOTHER ANGLE – Brenda and Michael are illuminated by a bunch of COP LIGHTS.
Two COPS put Michael in handcuffs.
ANOTHER ANGLE – as a handcuffed Brenda is brought around to the rear of the Chevy as another COP pops the trunk.
INSERT ON TRUNK – the BODIES of TWO MEN are stuffed into the trunk.
COP O.S.
Looks like they were killed with a shotgun...
BACK TO SCENE
COP
(to Brenda)
What, you were just gonna bury these guys on
the side of the road?
COP 2 O.S.
Call an ambulance! This one’s still alive!
ANOTHER ANGLE – as a barely breathing MAN is pulled from the trunk and laid on the ground.
INT. SMALL HOUSE IN
Brenda and Michael Montfort sit at the kitchen table with their hands cuffed behind their backs, while COPS move in and out all over the place.
COP O.S.
(calling)
Got something here!
INT. BASEMENT – SAME MOMENT
A bunch of COPS have set up lights and are digging in the dirt.
ANGLE ON DIRT – as a WOMAN’S HAND with the same DISTINCTIVE TATTOOS as the woman seen cutting speed with Brenda and Michael is uncovered.
ANOTHER COP O.S.
We’ve got a body down here... Looks pretty
fresh...
BRENDA NARRATING O.S.
Altogether, because of a technicality, I ended
up serving a little over three years for being an
accessory after the fact to four murders, while
Michael got life...
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
Page 7
PERSPECTIVES (Column)
Younger Ousts Stovitz as Manson Prosecutor After Comment to Reporter
By ROGER M. GRACE
Seventieth in a Series
Evelle J. Younger made innumerable personnel decisions during his tenure as district attorney, but one, just one, spawned controversy...and the call he made is still the subject of Monday morning quarter-backing.
As Ninth U.S. Circuit Court of Appeals Judge Stephen Trott, then a deputy in the office, recalls it:
“Evelle had high standards, which explains why he removed Aaron Stovitz from the Manson case for talking too much to the media about the People’s case after Aaron had been told not to try his case in the media.”
Stovitz, who was head of the trials division of the office downtown, had been chosen to prosecute Charles Manson and his cult followers for the brutal murders of actress Sharon Tate and three house guests and a groundskeeper, and for the unrelated slayings of Leno and Rosemary LaBianca. Public interest in the case was intense, and Los Angeles Superior Court Judge Charles H. Older imposed a gag order.
Nonetheless, Stovitz granted an interview to the Rolling Stone magazine in March of 1970. Stovitz’s justification was that he had talked off-the-record. In contravention of that proviso, the magazine published the remarks in its June issue, attributing them to Stovitz. The defendants moved for a mistrial based on the interview, and the motion was denied.
(The Court of Appeal, in the 1976 opinion that upheld the conviction of Manson and two of the accomplices, found that Stovitz, though sincere in his belief that he was merely engaging in a private conversation that was supposed to be confidential, did breach the gag order…but held that it was harmless inasmuch as what he provided was “only a droplet in the sea of publicity.”)
Vincent Bugliosi, who was brought in as second banana to Stovitz, recounts in his 1974 book, “Helter Skelter”:
“After the Rolling Stone interview, Younger had told Aaron: ‘No more interviews.’ Being somewhat easygoing by nature, Aaron had trouble complying with the edict. Once, when Younger was in San Francisco, he’d turned on the radio to hear Aaron commenting on some aspect of the day’s courtroom proceedings. Though Aaron’s comments were not in violation of the gag order, on his return to L.A. Younger warned Aaron: ‘One more interview and you’re off the case.’ ”
A one-line comment to a reporter in the hallway outside the courtroom—characterized by Bugliosi in his book as “a passing remark” hardly amounting to an utterance in the course of an “interview”—led to Stovitz’s ouster from the case on Sept. 4, 1970.
The Associated Press account of that action says:
The veteran prosecutor who mapped the state’s case against four defendants in the Sharon Tate murder trial has been pulled off the case, reportedly because of his statements to the news media.The district attorney suddenly removed Chief Prosecutor Aaron H. Stovitz in midtrial Friday saying he was needed for administrative duties.
Sources said Dist. Atty. Evelle Younger had been upset about out-of-court statements by the two prosecutors.
Stovitz, 45, chief of the district attorney’s trials division, had been on the case, assisted by Vincent Bugliosi, since the actress and six others were found slain in August 1969.
Charles M. Manson 35, leader of a hippie-style clan, and three women followers have been on trial since July, charged with murder-conspiracy.
Stovitz often traded jokes with reporters in corridors outside court.
Early this week he was quoted by some newsmen as saying that testimony by defendant Susan Atkins about her health was “a performance worthy of a Sarah Bernhardt.” Miss Atkins told the judge she had stomach pains and was too ill to continue. A doctor said she was in good health.
Stovitz said later this comment, made in the corridor, was off the record.
A source in the district attorney’s office said Younger has received criticism from the legal profession about comments by prosecutors. The judge has issued an order barring principals in the trial from discussing it publicly.
….
Younger said Stovitz has “a very important position on our executive staff. He’s been away from this responsibility too long….We think the change will be beneficial all around….I will have no further comment.”
Stovitz, at the time, did not talk with the press about his expulsion. The Herald-Examiner’s issue of Sept. 5, 1970, says:
“The 46-year-old Stovitz obviously was emotionally upset by his removal from the case and left his office two hours early.
“He declined to comment on the reasons for his being taken out of the trial, saying only:
“ ‘I’m sorry but there is nothing I can tell you.’”
He did, however, discuss it six years later with Laurinda Keys, then a staff writer for the Pasadena Star News. (I knew Laurinda before she forayed to the Star News; she was a reporter for the Daily Journal, where this column appeared from 1972-77. She went on to become, for a good number of years, a globe-trotting reporter for the Associated Press.)
Her June 13, 1976 Star News article relates:
“Stovitz said that about three weeks before he was removed from the case he and Bugliosi had a conference with Younger.
“ ‘Younger told us that he wanted no more press statements and that if we violated that order we were going to be taken off the case. We religiously abided by that during the trial.’
“But one day, defendant Susan Atkins requested a delay in the trial because she had a stomachache. A doctor examined her and said her only problem was that she was constipated and refused to take a laxative, Stovitz said.
“A hearing in which Miss Atkins cried and begged for a continuance was out of the presence of the jury but most of the press were present. After the judge refused to grant the delay, Stovitz said he walked out of the courtroom and a UPI reporter who had missed the hearing asked him what had happened.
“ ‘Oh, she gave a performance worthy of a Sarah Bernhardt,’ was Slovitz’s offhand reply. The reply went out on the UPI wires.”
Hmmm. Strange that the 1970 AP story doesn’t mention that Stovitz’s courtroom corridor remark had been to a reporter for UPI…AP’s then-viable competitor. Strange also that Bugliosi’s account doesn’t reflect Younger’s apparent displeasure with him, as well as Stovitz, for talking with the press.
Stovitz, 84, now terms his hallway remark “innocuous.” He tells me he’s “really not bitter” about his removal from the case, but adds that “it was a disappointment.”
Had he remained, he reflects, he, not Bugliosi, would have written books and gained fame.
“At first I felt resentful,” Stovitz says, but adds that he was later able to convince himself, “Look, I’ve still got my job, my family,” and, in the long run, it didn’t matter.
It remains that his career may well have suffered as a result of his reassignment. Stovitz ran unsuccessfully for the Los Angeles Superior Court in 1976 and 1978. In recent years, he served as an as-needed commissioner. On the other hand, if he had led the successful prosecution of Manson et al., this would have been no assurance of advancement. Bugliosi ran for district attorney in 1972 and lost.
Stovitz continues to express a view he’s shared with reporters in the past as to the reason Younger cracked down on him and Bugliosi. Younger was a candidate for attorney general in need of coverage, and wasn’t deriving much press attention from his weekly news summaries of the Manson case. Reporters swarmed about the deputies.
Younger’s son, retired Los Angeles Superior Court Judge Eric Younger, says his late father “liked Aaron.” But, he points out, the district attorney gave Stovitz an instruction to refrain from talking with the press and “Aaron didn’t do it.” Eric Younger, now a private judge, says this was perceived as “direct insubordination, a challenge kind of thing.”
Veteran criminal defense lawyer Joe Ingber reflects that “Evelle Younger was a man who ran the office like a military organization.” Was Younger—a brigadier general in the Air Force Reserve—so consumed by a quest to maintain military-like office discipline that he may have jeopardized the outcome in the Manson case by yanking Stovitz off it?
Expressing the view that removing Stovitz was “unwise” and a “tactical error” is Robert H. Philibosian, the county’s 38th district attorney, serving from 1982-84. But Younger’s action, he opines, did not put the outcome at risk, explaining: “The case was a very strong case.”
This was one of the most watched prosecutions the office had ever handled, on a par with the earlier cases involving the McNamara Brothers (L.A. Times dynamiters) and Aimee Semple McPherson (radio evangelist charged with faking her kidnapping). Yet, Younger, after ejecting Stovitz from the case, entrusted the lead role not to a seasoned prosecutor but to Bugliosi, a lawyer short on experience and long, quite long, on ego. Stovitz was licensed to practice in 1950; Bugliosi in 1964, less than six years before becoming chief Manson prosecutor.
Former Los Angeles County Public Defender Wilbur Littlefield terms Bugliosi as having been, up to that point, “just the guy carrying the files.” In like vein, Philibosian says that Bugliosi “was the brief-case carrier for Stovitz”…but explains Younger’s decision to put him in charge by noting that outside of Stovitz, he was “the only guy who knew anything about the case.”
Now assisting Bugliosi were Deputy District Attorneys Donald Musich, a lawyer since 1963, and Steven Kay, sworn in as a lawyer only four years before. This was not a prosecutorial “dream team.”
The Sept. 4 AP account quotes Paul Fitzgerald, attorney for co-defendant Patricia Krenwinkel, as rejoicing at the dismissal of Stovitz from the case, exclaiming: “What a break.”
Could there have been a defense verdict, given the evidence? Our retired general manager, John Babigian, once aptly described litigation as a “crap shoot.” Whatever slight chance there was of acquittals in the Manson case was no doubt enhanced by virtue of Stovitz—seasoned, likeable, trusted by juries—being removed. Whether that chance was of such significance as to have rendered it unwise for Younger to overlook what he saw as a last-straw instance of direct disobedience remains a matter on which views will differ.
DEPUTY DRAWS SUSPENSION—Another personnel decision by Younger which drew press attention, but did not generate controversy, was the 10-day suspension, without pay, imposed on Deputy District Attorney Harold Prukop. The lawyer had been the Democratic candidate in a run-off with Republican incumbent Floyd Wakefield in an Assembly race. Wakefield’s campaign made use of a routine letter Younger had sent commending him for his votes on law enforcement matters. Prukop requested a letter from Younger clarifying that he wasn’t endorsing the legislator from South Gate. Younger complied, saying in the letter that he was making no endorsement in the race—but adding that he did commend Wakefield’s voting record on issues relating to law enforcement. That last part was left out when the Prukop campaign reproduced the letter in campaign literature. (Prukop lost the race.)
In a missive to the deputy advising him of the suspension, Younger said that in disseminating an altered letter, he created “the clear impression that I was denouncing Mr. Wakefield and indirectly supporting you, which was not true.”
Prukop was disciplined under a portion of an office manual which said that an employee involved in politics “should be keenly aware of the responsibility not to bring embarrassment to the department of the district attorney.”
That does seem like a rather vague standard. It’s no longer in effect.
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A Los Angeles County judge has turned down the latest bid by former Charles Manson follower Susan Atkins to get a compassionate prison release before she dies from brain cancer while under guard at a Riverside-area hospital.
The state parole board declined last week to urge a discharge for Atkins, 60. Her attorney had filed a petition with the judge seeking the same relief.
Atkins was convicted of killing eight people during a bloody murder spree in the summer of 1969.
One of her victims was actress Sharon Tate, 8 ½ months pregnant, who begged Atkins to spare the life of her child before Atkins stabbed her to death.
Los Angeles County Superior Court Judge Peter Espinoza cited the parole board's decision in issuing his one-page denial on Monday.
"This court is without authority to grant a compassionate release unless there is a positive recommendation by the secretary (of the Department of Corrections and Rehabilitation) or Board of Parole Hearings," Espinoza wrote.
Calls seeking comment from Atkins' attorney Eric Lampel were not returned Tuesday. Calls also were not returned from Atkins' husband James W. Whitehouse, who has acted as her attorney as well.
"We are in agreement with the judge's decision," LA County Deputy District Attorney Patrick Sequeira said Tuesday. Sequeira testified on behalf of his office against compassionate release for Atkins at last week's Sacramento hearing.
Atkins, who spent decades incarcerated at the California Institution for Women in Chino, was hospitalized March 18 and was receiving care at the Riverside County Regional Medical Center in Moreno Valley, Lampel said last week.
Atkins' medical care has reportedly cost the state $1.15 million. Additionally, guarding her has cost $308,000, according to the state Department of Corrections.
Atkins has been denied parole 13 times since her first hearing in 1976. Her most recent hearing was in 2005.
Atkins was one of the top members of the murderous "Family" led by Manson in Southern California.
She is serving a life sentence on her murder convictions linked to the cult of young men and women who followed Manson's orders to commit mayhem that Manson called "Helter Skelter," after a Beatles song.
Atkins has long claimed she reformed during her years in prison.
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The Col has some thoughts----