Remembering the Zebra killings, 71 WHITES torture/shot killed by 5 blacks fm Farrakhan's Nation of Islam LED TO GUN CONTROL in California

[White Boy]

For our white brothers and sisters who may have been too young to remember or had not been born at the time
*****************************************************************
Summarizes the gist of the story, if not wanting to buy the book ZEBRA.
[Crim. No. 15402. Court of Appeals of California, First Appellate District, Division Two. March 25, 1983.]
THE PEOPLE, Plaintiff and Respondent, v. JESSIE LEE COOKS et al., Defendants and Appellants.

People v. Cooks (1983)

People v. Cooks (1983), California Court of Appeals

law.justia.com

******************************************************************

http://www.frontpagemag.com/Articles/Printable.asp?ID=3693

Remembering The Zebra Killings
By James Lubinskas
FrontPageMagazine.com | August 30, 2001


MOST SERIAL KILLINGS in America take on a life of their own through movies, books and documentaries. The crimes of Charles Manson, Jeffrey Dahmer and The Son of Sam are still well remembered years after they were committed. Yet there is one set of se
ial killings that has been almost completely forgotten and is rarely mentioned in popular culture.

The Zebra Killings occurred in the San Francisco bay area between 1972 and 1974 and left 71 people dead
They were dubbed the Zebra Killings because of the radio channel used by the police investigat
ing the case (channel Z). The name would take on a more sinister meaning as it became apparent that a group of blacks was systematically stalking and killing whites simply because of the color of their skin.

Zebra (1979) was written by crime writer Clark Howard and remains the definitive book on the murders. Using court records, police reports, witnesses and interviews with the killers themselves, Howard was able to piece together the horrid details of the murders and the unrelenting hatred that inspired the killers.

The majority of the attacks were carried out by five members of a group within Louis Farrakhan's Nation of Islam called the "Death Angels." Jesse Lee Cooks, J.C. Simon, Larry Green, Manuel Moore and Anthony Harris were part of this group which believed that whites were created 3,000 years ago by a black mad scientist named Yacub who wanted a race of inferiors to rule over. Death
Angels believed they could earn "points" towards going to heaven when they died if they killed whites. For them
, whites were not human beings but "grafted snakes," "blue-eyed *****s" and "white motherf-----s."

Howard describes the vicious and cowardly nature of the attacks, which were made at gunpoint and mostly carried out against women and weak or old men who could not fight back. The first victims in San Francisco were a couple named Richard and Quita Hague. The Hagues were out for an after dinner walk when they were abducted at gunpoint and forced into a van. They were bound and Richard was beaten over the head with a lug wrench and knocked unconscious. Quita was sexually molested and hacked with a machete. While begging for her life she was decapitated. Before leaving, the attackers hacked at the face of the still unconscious man. Miraculously, he survived and was able to give valuable information to the police.

Brutality and a lack of remorse on the part of the criminals mark the attacks. Vincent Wollin was shot in the back and killed on his 69th birthday. Mildred Hosler, an obese, older woman was shot whi
le frantically trying to get away from her younger, faster attacker. Ilario Bertucci, a 135-pound, 81-year-old man, was killed while walking home from work. Marietta DiGirolamo, a 5'1" white woman was shot and killed on her way to a neighborhood bar. In none of these cases did the victims do anything to provoke the murderers. They simply had white skin and were in the wrong place at the wrong time.

There were even some high profile victims. Art Agnos, who would later go on to become mayor of San Francisco, was shot and almost killed by the Death Angels. A member of the California Commission on Aging, Agnos was attending a comm
unity meeting in a black neighborhood to discuss building a government funded health clinic in the area. In the same neighborhood the killers were hunting for whites. As the meeting let out, Agnos stopped to talk with two women. One of the killers came up behind him and shot him twice in the back. The bullets ripped apart his lungs, spleen and kidneys. Bystanders called an ambulanc
e and Agnos barely survived.

Lou Calabro was a street patrol sergeant with the San Francisco Police Department at the time and notes that as the murders added up, the SFPD came under increasing pressure to stop the killings:

"In what was known as Operation Zebra, more police were put on the street and security checks were beefed up. Despite the increased police presence, the attacks did not stop. They would often happen when we were on full alert. Some officers suspected a black cop who was a member of 'Officers for Justice,' a black police officers association formed to get more promotions for themselves, was tipping off the killers, though this was never proven. We were very frustrated at not being able to stop the killings."

The increased police presence had the effect of angering the black community. Twenty years before the Los Angeles riots and O.J. Simpson trial, blacks were already making statements to the press that showed a stunning lack of remorse for what was happening to their white
neighbors. Howard quotes from interviews conducted by the San Francisco Examiner in 1974. Among the responses by blacks were, "I don't feel comfortable with all the police around. But then, I never have felt safe around them." A young housewife stated, "I'm really glad the police are concerned for a change. I just wonder if they would be as much concerned if it were black people getting killed." A black lawyer added, "I commend the police for their beefing up of the force, but I hope it's not just directed at blacks. I hope blacks aren't being harassed."

Still other blacks blamed "unemployment" and "oppression" for the attacks. One man said, "the madness that drives black men to kill innocent people . . . involves a sickness that is as American as apple pie." Black Panther leader Bobby Seale declared, "every black man in the Bay area is in danger of losing his life." The Reverend Cecil Williams claimed that the entire black community was "under a police state that could erupt into a racial war." Howar
d observes, "although they were responding only to a question about Operation Zebra, it was curious that none of the blacks interviewed took the occasion to condemn the unknown street killers or express sympathy for the victims."

Detectives Gus Coreris and John Fotinos were 13-year veterans of the Homicide Unit and led the investigation which eventually cracked the case. Though they both suspected the Black Muslims, it was hard to get any information on the possible suspects because of a ban on surveillance of religious institutions. Moreover, the closed atmosphere of the NOI made it hard to get spies into the organization.

Coreris and Fotinos were able to link the murders because the killers were using the same weapon for each attack. They were also able to put together information and descriptions from those who survived such as Agnos and Hague. The case was solved when one of the members of the Death Angels came forward with information on the other killers. A total of eight black men with previous r
ecords were arrested. All were members of the Death Angels. Though this group committed most of the killings, they do not account for all of the criminals. Some are still free to this day.

The Nation of Islam paid for the legal representation of every one of the killers except Cooks, who immediately admitted to his murders. The Death Angels are still in prison but are up for parole in 2002. The European American Issues Forum (EAIF), headed by Calabro, has pledged to attend the parole hearings and work to insure that the killers spend the rest of their lives in jail. In addition, on October 19 of this year, the EAIF will hold its fifth annual Zebra Victims Memorial Service on the steps of San Francisco City Hall. As with the previous five ceremonies, government and community leaders such as Mayor Willie Brown and the leader of the local NAACP will be invited to attend. They have declined to attend any of the ceremonies so far and are not likely to show up this year. Indeed, the lack of publicity and recogni
tion of these racially motivated hate crimes is consistent with the efforts of government agencies, civil rights groups and the media to portray European-Americans as the only perpetrators of hate crimes.

This same type of black-on-white serial murder occurred in the Miami area in the early 1990's. The racist cult of Yahweh-ben-Yahweh began systematically killing whites in the same manor as the Death Angels. Whites were again described as subhuman "*****s" by the cult leaders who urged their black followers to murder random whites. In what was strictly local news, seven whites were ritually slaughtered before the cult was stopped. The leaders of Yahweh-ben-Yahweh are also up for parole in 2002.

It has been almost 30 years since the Zebra Killings and, with the exception of Clark Howard's book, little has been written about the murders. That is why they have disappeared from the public consciousness. At least one filmmaker who tried to get funding for a documentary on the killings has said that produce
rs will not touch it, as it involves the taboo of black-on-white racism. Needless to say, there is no such taboo on discussing white-on-black racism. But a society that memorializes Emmett Till, Medgar Evers and James Byrd should also make room for the victims of the Zebra Killings. Justice demands it.

Paleoconservative James P. Lubinskas has written for Chronicles, The AIM Report, American Renaissance, The Social Contract, VDARE, The Nationalist Times, American Patrol and other journals.

Please see www.eaif.org for more information on the Zebra Killings Memorial Service.

*Zebra, by Clark Howard, is currently out of print. Used copies can still be purchased on Amazon.com. Click here for details
.

**The first chapter of Zebra can be read online by clicking here. (Link in PDF format).

 

[Whitebear]

Tenth Annual Zebra Victims Memorial Service

FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE

People of All Races are Invited to the
TENTH ANNUAL ZEBRA VICTIMS MEMORIAL SERVICE, CITY HALL, SAN FRANCISCO

San Francisco, September 7, 2006. The European/American Issues Forum will hold its Tenth Annual Zebra Victims Memorial Services in memory of the forgotten innocent victims of violent crimes. Quita Hague (nee Pirelli-Minetti) and her husband were the first official victims and were abducted and driven to an isolated railroad track area where they were violently attacked. Quita died, but her husband Richard miraculously lived.

The Tenth Annual Zebra Victims Memorial Services are scheduled for Friday, October 20, 2006, at 12:00 Noon to 1:00 PM on the Plaza Side steps of San Francisco's City Hall. The victims, family, friends and police officers touched by the case have been invited.

San Francisco's first African American Chief of Poli
ce Prentice Earl Sanders, Ret., has written a just released book on the Zebra case titled "Zebra Murders along with co-author Bennett Cohen. Chief Sanders has been invited to attend the Memorial Services. Mayor Gavin Newsom and many City dignitaries have also been invited, as well as the print, radio and news media.

The pain of those tragic racially motivated crimes remains with those who were victims and, thank God, lived, and with all of the family members and friends who were so deeply affected by this tragedy.

The murders occurred between 1973/74 in San Francisco and other parts of California. Twenty three were attacked in San Francisco, and 15 died. The State of California , Criminal Information Division, estimated 71 similar killings at that time. Some of the murderers still walk the streets of America, while concerned family, friends and police officers are deeply troubled by this terrible tragedy. We must never forget the memory of the victims. We must try to bring all the killers to the a
ltar of Justice. All caring citizens of all races are invited to attend this worthy Memorial Service.

The European/American Issues Forum is a moderate and thoughtful civil rights organization dedicated to the eradication of discrimination against and defamation of European Americans. We do not denigrate or slur other racial/ethnic groups and welcome those who support our policy. Established 1997, San Mateo County, California

I pledge my full allegiance To all European Americans: To preserve our heritage and to protect our society by my spirit and deeds, I do so vow.

Louis Calabro
President
European/American Issues Forum
http://www.eaif.org Obama's ICANN took over site, it's now all ASIAN text full of BULLISHT.

ハウスメーカーをランキングサイトで探そう​

BETTER SITE, not too active: https://euroissues.blogspot.com/
email: eaifpres(at)aol.com

 

[Whitebear]

Re: Tenth Annual Zebra Victims Memorial Service

The Zebra Killings - A Forgotten Hate Crime

The Zebra Killings occurred in the San Francisco bay area between 1972 and 1974 and left 71 people dead. They were dubbed the Zebra Killings because of the radio channel used by the police investigating the case (channel Z). The name would take on a more sinister meaning as it became apparent that a group of blacks was systematically stalking and killing whites simply because of the color of their skin. - (Norcal) - (hatecrimes)

THE ZEBRA KILLINGS
In the early-to-mi
d 1970's hundreds of White men, women and children were murdered by black Muslims as an initiation to an organization called the "Death Angels." These were known as the "Zebra Killings" after the radio channel (Z) that the investigators working the case used. Once they became a Death Angel, black wings were affixed to their photograph and put on display along with the other members at highly secret meetings. In order to "earn their wings", prospects were required to kill either 9 White men, 5 White women or 4 White children. The purported reason for the difference in number of victims needed to become a member was that it was believed to require more fanaticism to murder women and kids. The real reason was that it was much easier to kill those who were weaker and less likely to fight back.

Remembering the Zebra killings

​

 

[-88-]

Zebra murders

... only four Death Angels were convicted out of a believed fifteen.

Remembering the Zebra Victims

According to Clark Howard, the true number of Zebra murders was “just under 270.”

Larry Green, school photo

Larry Green, who was convicted of the machete murder of Quita Hague and the maiming of her husband, Richard. Sentenced to life in prison. Green laughed when the verdict was read.

link

J.C. Simon, mugshot
r

J.C. Simon killed Tana Smith.

Manuel Moore, mugshot

Jessie Lee Cooks, mugshot

Cooks pled guilty to killing Frances Rose.

Anthony Harris

Anthony Harris testified for 12 days and spilled it all, providing grisly details about how Green had hacked Quita Hague to death and how J.C. Simon killed Tana Smith. He denied hurting any of the victims himself.

link

 

[-88-]

The Zebra killings

This is not just a feature of the media in Britain but in America as well. Whilst we in Britain are faced with an endless torrent of media stories about whites attacking blacks and Asians the deaths of those like Gavin Hopley, Ross Parker and Kriss Donald by gangs of Muslim extremists are not even mentioned in the main by the BBC. Whilst so called ' Islamaphobia' and the phantoms of institutional racism are seen everywhere by the white hand wringing liberals of the Liberal Elite the suffering of whites at the hands of black racists, Muslim extremists, foreign drug and crime gangs is minimised and ignored. A case in point is the Zebra Killings case in America. How many people in Britain and America know the names of Rodney King and Stephen Lawrence but have never heard of :

Quita Hague


Frances Rose

Saleem Erakat

Paul Dancik

Marietta DiGirolamo

Ilario Bertuccio

Neal Moynihan

Mildred Hosler

Tana Smith

Vincent Wollin

John Bambic

Jane Holly

Thomas Rainwater

Nelson Shields IV

…and the many more slaughtered whites whose names we may never know.

The Zebra Killings occurred in the San Francisco bay area between 1972 and 1974 and left 71 white people dead at the hands of blacks. They were dubbed the Zebra Killings because of the radio channel used by the police investigating the case (channel Z). The name would take on a more sinister meaning as it became apparent that a group of blacks was systematically stalking and killing whites simply because of the colour of their skin.

The link here details the story as it unfolded

Zebra (1979) was written by crime writer Clark
Howard and remains the definitive book on the murders but it has been out of print for decades, though copies are available via the old books section of Amazon

Whilst Hollywood makes endless propaganda films about ' evil white racists ' it has ignored the organised racist murders of 71 whites by a gang of racist blacks who were part of the Nation of Islam. The Nation of Islam now run their own school in London. They were even invited to appear at the Stephen Lawrence Inquiry.

Ideal documentary material

One would have thought that a story like that would have been the basis of at least one BBC documentary or Hollywood biography. But as all those who live in totalitarian regimes know, the selective editing of facts and the selective presentation of news is the basis of all tyrannical regimes.

 

[Rasp]

Domestic Terrorism: The Nation of Islam

Domestic Terrorism: The Nation of Islam

The three men went out hunting that night. But their prey was human. White humans, to be exact. Only they didn"t consider whites human, but rather 'grafted snakes, 'white devils, and 'blue-eyed devils.

They grabbed three children, and tried to get them into their van, but the resourceful kids ran away.

The children were Michele Denise Carrasco, 11, Marie Stewart, 12, and Marie"s 15-year-old brother, Frank.

The angry, frustrated hunters went back to their van, and sought after new quarry. They found it in the form of a happy married couple, out for an after-dinner walk near their home on Telegraph Hill. The wife ran away, but when one of the hunters put a gun to her husband"s chest and s
aid he"d kill him, she stopped and returned. Her devotion cost her her life.

In the van, the hunters brutally assaulted the husband and wife, and two of the hunters (Cooks and Green) robbed the husband and wife, and two (Cooks and Harris) sexually molested the wife. Parking near some deserted railroad tracks in the Potrero District, the hunters had at husband and wife alike, taking turns hacking their faces with a machete, and nearly decapitating the wife, before leaving them for dead.

The couple was named Quita and Richard Hague. The date was October 20, 1973.

Quita Hague was dead, but a hideously mutilated Richard Hague miraculously survived.

The hunters that night were Jesse Lee Cooks, Larry Green, and Anthony Cornelius Harris. Cooks, Green, and Harris were members of the Black Muslims (now known as the Nation of Islam), who had been recruited, along with dozens of other Black Muslims, to randomly murder whites.

That was the official beginning of the 'Zebra Ki
llings, which would be carried out on the streets of San Francisco, and would hold the city by the bay "“ one of the most beautiful in the world "“ in a state of terrified siege for the next six months. Or rather, would hold white San Franciscans in a state of terror. As black residents told reporters, since only whites were being murdered, they felt no fear or concern.

The Zebra Killings were so called because the San Francisco Police Department reserved radio frequency 'Z ('Zebra in military and police parlance) for all dispatches that might be related to the serial killings.

It would be months before the SFPD would connect the Quita Hague killing to the Zebra case. That is because although the Hague case had in common with the San Francisco killings and attempted murders to come, that it was a random black-on-white murder by youngish black men who stood out for being conservatively dressed and groomed, the cases that formed the profile that stood out to the detectives in the SFP
D Homicide Detail were all carried out with a .32 pistol, and did not involve robbery or sexual molestation. (Youngish black men who were conservatively dressed and groomed were and are hallmarks of the Nation of Islam (NOI).)

Killers and Suspects

Between October 20, 1973 and April 16, 1974, Jesse Lee Cooks, Larry Green, and Anthony Cornelius Harris, as well as J.C. (aka J.C.X.) Simon and Manuel Moore, murdered at least 15 whites and grievously wounded at least another nine whites in failed murder attempts. In at least one case ('John Doe #169), the devils kidnapped a homeless white man, took him to Black Self-Help Moving and Storage, the NOI-owned business where all of the above-named killers but Cooks worked, bound and gagged their victim, and began chopping off his body parts while he was still alive. (Cooks worked at the NOI-owned Shabazz Bakery; according to Anthony Harris, the NOI assassins had butchered at least one other white victim at Black Self-Help.)

One
of the detectives who worked the Zebra detail told me that one of the cases in which the dismembered white murder victim could not be identified was known as 'the turkey case, since the victim, who was found on Ocean Beach minus his feet and hands (and head?), was trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey.

Jesse Lee Cooks also raped twice and sodomized (at least) one white woman, whom he had planned on murdering, as well, but who succeeded in maneuvering him, much to his consternation, into letting her live.

Black Self-Help was managed by Tom Manney, an NOI member who, according to a different detective from the case was a former St. Ignatius High School and City College football star. According to Clark Howard, the author of the definitive work on the Zebra killings, Zebra: The true account of the 179 days of terror in San Francisco (1979), Manney lent his black Cadillac to the murderers, who used it in several of the killings. According to Howard, an illegal .32 pistol that Manney owned was
the murder weapon in several of the killings. Manney was arrested for the Zebra Killings, but released for "“ in the DA"s opinion "“ lack of evidence.

One of the detectives who worked the case told me that more recently, Manney was charged with insurance fraud. The detective recalled that in addition to serial murder, Black Self-Help was a burglary operation. So much for the NOI"s self-image and public persona as a clean-cut, racial supremacist religion preaching racial annihilation while refraining from common crimes such as robbery, burglary, and rape.

In addition to Manney, Clarence Jamerson, Dwight Stallings and a fourth man whose identity I have not yet been able to determine, were also arrested in the Zebra Killings, but released for lack of evidence. The fourth man was inexplicably given the pseudonym 'Jasper Childs by Zebra author Clark Howard.

Stallings was arrested by Inspector Rotea Gilford, who was the first black promoted to the SFPD Homicide Bureau. Gilford, w
ho had grown up with Stallings, was certain that the latter had blood on his hands, but was unable to prove it. Later, while working as a longshoreman, Stallings died in a work accident.

After Gilford retired from the SFPD, he became a close political advisor to his old friend, former California State Assembly speaker and then-San Francisco Mayor Willie Brown. Gilford has since unfortunately died from diabetes. Last year, Gus Coreris remembered Gilford as 'a good policeman, the highest praise one cop will give another.

Nation of Cut-Throats

As one of the inspectors from the SFPD Homicide Detail team that ran the case told me on Thursday, investigators at the California Department of Justice"s Bureau of CII and the FBI had been quietly compiling material on similar murders up and down the state of California and the East Coast, respectively, since 1970. (A detective from the Zebra case called CII 'Criminal Intelligence and Investigation, Clark Howard called it
'Criminal Investigation and Identification, and a timeline of the California Department of Justice identifies CII as 'Criminal Identification and Information.)

One such East Coast murder was the April 14, 1972 ambush murder of Patrolman Philip W. Cardillo in Harlem"s NOI Mosque #6 by mosque members, following a false 'officer in need of assistance call one member had made.

That was Min. Louis Farrakhan"s mosque at the time, and if historian Vincent J. Cannato"s recounting of the murder in The Ungovernable City: John Lindsay and the Struggle to Save New York (2001) holds up, Farrakhan was at least guilty of obstruction of justice, if not conspiracy to murder a police officer.

Retired NYPD Lt. Randy Jurgenson, who responded to the mosque ambush 34 years ago, has just finished a book on the case, Circle of Six. Two weeks ago, New York Police Commissioner Ray Kelly, who also responded to the mosque ambush that fateful day "“ arguably the darkest day in the history of
the NYPD "“ announced that he is reopening the case. At the time, suspect Lewis 17X Dupree, was acquitted of murder charges.

Getting back to the West Coast, the retired SFPD inspector told me that the San Francisco murder campaign was run through the NOI"s local Mosque #26.

The killers all sought membership in an elite NOI group called the 'Death Angels, which had recruiting meetings and pep rallies in the loft at Black Self-Help. In order to become a Death Angel, one had to murder four white children, five white women, or nine white men. In the NOI, cowardice is a virtue.

According to Clark Howard, the NOI had gangs of assassins up and down the state of California:

At that time, there were fifteen accredited Death Angels in California. To achieve their collective membership, they had already quietly killed throughout the state 135 white men, 75 white women, 60 white children "“ or enough of a combination thereof to give each of them his required four, five, or nine cr
edits. This was October of 1973. The California attorney general"s office had already secretly compiled a list of forty-five of those killings which had taken place in the cities of San Francisco, Oakland, Berkeley, Long Beach, Signal Hill, Santa Barbara, Palo Alto, Pacifica, San Diego, and Los Angeles; and in the counties of San Mateo, Santa Clara, Los Angeles, Contra Costa, Ventura, and Alameda. All of the victims were white. All the known suspects in the killings had been associated with the Black Muslim movement. The killings were even then continuing throughout the state.
The operation came down from the highest reaches of the NOI, making the NOI the bloodiest domestic terrorist group in American history.

During the same period, murdering whites had become quite a sport for black San Francisco criminals, a sport that did not bother black San Francisco civilians at all, who were of little help to police in solving the Zebra killings. On the bloodiest night of the killings, January 28, 1974,
the NOI murderers shot five whites within two hours, leaving four dead and one crippled. In the most brazen case that night, the killers shot to death a white woman, Jane Holly, in front of eight black women in a well-lighted laundromat. Yet none of the black women would give police a useful description of the killer.

Had blacks helped police, the NOI killers could have been caught months earlier, and several of their victims spared.

As retired SFPD assistant chief and historian Kevin J. Mullen, who at the time was a veteran of over 20 years on the force, recently wrote,

By the late 1970s, San Francisco"s homicide rate was 18.5 per 100,000 population, up from 5.9 in an equivalent period in the early 1960s. Much of the increase was driven by a rise in black on white killings. It was in this climate that the Zebra killings occurred.
Note that at 13.4 percent, blacks then comprised barely more than one-eighth of the city"s population.

We still do not know how many whites t
he Nation of Islam murdered during the period of 1970-74, let alone how many it has since murdered, not to mention how many copycat black-on-white murders the NOI may have inspired.

CII"s Richard Walley, who until his unfortunate death from cancer in 1974, ran the California Department of Justice"s Intelligence Analysis Unit (IAU), was convinced that during the 1970-early 1974 period alone, the NOI was responsible for 71 black-on-white racial murders in California. In Zebra, however, author Clark Howard estimated that the NOI was guilty of 'just under 270 black-on-white murders in California during the same period.

Bending the Rules

What broke the seemingly hopeless case was an inspiration by Gus Coreris that went under the rubric of 'bending the rules.

Coreris sat down with SFPD sketch artist Hobart 'Hoby Nelson, and as Coreris told me last year, dictated generic sketches of two 20-something black males. Those sketches were then distributed to
local newspapers, who published them on their front pages; to TV news operations, who led with them on the 6 O"Clock News; and to officers in the street, who pulled over every young black man who resembled one of the drawings.

In order to avoid constantly harassing the same innocent black men, the police gave out a special 'Zebra Check card to each black man who had already been stopped and questioned, with the time, date, and place of the stop, the driver"s license and social security numbers of the black civilian, and the name, badge number, and signature of the officer who had made the stop. If an innocent black man had already been stopped, he needed only to produce his Zebra Check card and valid ID showing that he was the card holder.

Note that a few years earlier, hundreds of young white men had been stopped and questioned in connection with the Nob Hill rapist, in which the suspect had been identified as white. Only in the Nob Hill case, no cards were issued to white men who ha
d been stopped, and no one protested or went to court to get the practice stopped.

But this time, black San Franciscans were mad as hell! How dare the police inconvenience and 'harass them. What was the big deal, after all? And why the 'Zebra appellation? This was surely a racist dig at blacks! (You can"t make this stuff up.) Blacks of all social classes were particularly outraged that in a murder spree in which all of the suspects were black, police were stopping and questioning only black potential suspects. The term 'racial profiling had yet to be coined, but the mentality of shielding black criminals was already prevalent among blacks.

As Howard wrote, 'The black organizations ' were determined to interfere with the police effort in any way they could. Some were definitely seeking, via political means, to aid and abet mass murderers. One activist preacher, the Reverend Cecil Williams, threatened a race war, if police didn"t back down. As if the race war were not a
lready underway.

I know of only one black San Franciscan from the time, prominent or otherwise, who showed any support for the SFPD. Dr. Washington Garner, a prominent local physician and civic leader, called on the black community to cooperate with police, even emphasizing the tactics used in the Nob Hill rapist case. Unfortunately, Dr. Garner"s alternate pleading and scolding fell on deaf ears.

Jesse Byrd

The NAACP "“ joined by the ACLU "“ went to court to handcuff the police, and won. They were supported by, among other groups, a racist, black-dominated, counter-police organization called Officers for Justice, whose president was an SFPD officer named Jesse Byrd (spelled 'Bird in some accounts). Jesse Byrd was a Black Muslim.

(A counter-police organization is one which seeks to handcuff and destroy a police agency from within. Contemporary American counter-police organizations are typically formed by blacks or Hispanics, who, while demanding jobs, prom
otions, and power for unqualified and morally unfit members of their groups, often seek at the same time to aid and abet minority criminals. In addition to Officers for Justice, prominent counter-police organizations include The Black Sentinels in Cincinnati, and The Guardians, 100 Blacks in Law Enforcement Who Care, and the Latino Officers Association in New York. When such groups succeed at getting unfit officer candidates from their respective groups hired, they invariably follow up with frivolous lawsuits, charging that the incompetent minority hires suffer discrimination in promotions, no matter how rapidly those members have been promoted, in order to gain them millions of dollars in extortion money.)

Gus Coreris" bluff saved the day, in spite of Jesse Byrd, the NAACP, and the ACLU.

One of the NOI killers was an ex-con named Anthony Harris who, as Gus Coreris told me last year, had a wild imagination. Although neither of the police sketches resembled Harris in the slightest, Harris pro
jected himself onto one of them, and convinced himself that he had been identified.

Harris came forward to gain $30,000 (over $100,000, adjusted for inflation) in reward money, immunity from prosecution, and new identities for himself, his girlfriend Debra, and her baby.

The SFPD initially secreted the family in either a Holiday Inn motel (according to Howard) or the Del Webb Hotel (as one of the detectives told me). The family was with Inspectors Gus Coreris and John Fotinos, the partners who were the SFPD"s top homicide inspectors, and who were the lead detectives in the case. However, one day while Anthony Harris was taking a shower, Debra called Sister Sarah, the wife of an NOI minister, and told her where the family was hiding.

Within minutes, an NOI assassin had appeared in the lobby, spoken with Harris on the house telephone, and called from a pay phone for reinforcements. Insp. Coreris called his partner, Insp. John Fotinos, from the house phone, to warn him of the impending
arrival of the killers, and to get him to prepare Harris, his family, and his attorney to escape.

Shortly thereafter, a car pulled up with four more NOI assassins. (Howard"s description of the five suggested they were from the Fruit of Islam, the NOI"s palace guard, as the FOI were much more disciplined than the Zebra killers.)

Feigning indifference to the assassins and to his witness, Inspector Coreris left the motel. The assassins then proceeded to undertake a floor-by-floor search for their prey. Presumably, they would have killed everyone present "“ including family, inspectors, and attorney.

Once on the street, Insp. Coreris hurried to his SFPD car, and peeling rubber, drove it up to the motel"s rooftop parking lot, where Fotinos, Harris" lawyer, Laurence Kaufman, and Harris and family were waiting. Once everybody was in, Coreris again peeled rubber, only seconds ahead of the

NOI assassins. (This story was told by Clark Howard in Zebra; Gus Coreris corroborated it
to me during his telephone interview last year.)

As Howard recounts, when a San Francisco Examiner team of reporter Dexter Waugh and photographer Walt Lynott, and a later Examiner team that included reporter Hollis Wagstaff scoured the city, talking to people how they felt about the killings, not only were blacks not at all fearful "“ after all, they weren"t being targeted by the killers "“ but not a single black San Franciscan the respective teams interviewed expressed any sympathy for the white victims.

The tenacious, brilliant, and resourceful team of Gus Coreris and John Fotinos are the heroes of the Zebra saga. They had two able younger detectives "“ Jeff Brosch and Carl Klotz from Robbery Detail "“ assisting them full-time, with every other member of the Homicide Detail working on the case on a rotating basis.

In Zebra, Clark Howard recounts an incident from a few hours after the assassination attempt at the motel. Gus Coreris returned to his office, where a message from a
young black SFPD patrolman awaited him. When Coreris returned the man"s call, the latter did not want to discuss the matter over the phone. In person, the patrolman asked Coreris point blank where he was hiding Anthony Harris. Coreris asked the officer if he was acting on behalf of the NOI. When the young officer answered in the affirmative, Coreris responded that the SFPD would protect Harris and the information he had 'at any risk, that Coreris was going to report the officer to SFPD Chief Donald Scott, Chief of Inspectors Charles Barca, and the Intelligence Division, and that the patrol officer had better stop inquiring about Harris" whereabouts.

In a telephone interview last year, Gus Coreris confirmed for me that the foregoing incident had occurred just as Clark Howard reported it. When I asked Coreris what had happened to the black officer working for the NOI, he replied, 'Nothing.

We are talking here about a police officer who, based on Coreris" story, was guilty of con
spiring to murder a government witness, conspiring to obstruct justice, and who was an accomplice after the fact in at least 15 murders, at least nine attempted murders, and various and sundry other felonies (rape, kidnapping, etc.). Note that without Anthony Harris, not only would there have been no convictions in the Zebra case, but no arrests. The prosecution"s case was entirely dependent on Harris, who spent twelve days on the witness chair testifying during the trial. Without Harris, the murders would have continued ' and the officer in question would have been an accomplice prior to the fact in any future murders.

Last year, one of my SFPD sources who had been on the job at the time of the Zebra murders told me that the black officer in question was none other than Jesse Byrd. Although one SFPD source would have been more than enough for a New York Times reporter, I wanted a source from the inner circle of detectives who ran the case.

I spoke to everyone from the Zebra team, save one
, but no one could remember the identity of the black patrolman.

John Fotinos

The one inspector I didn"t reach was John Fotinos. He was the guy that got away.

The other day, Fotinos" widow told me of the massive stroke her eighty-year-old husband had suffered on April 16 of this year, and which took him eleven days later.

John Fotinos was born on November 1, 1925. He served his nation honorably in World War II (as did his friend and partner, Gus Coreris). John Fotinos was an old-school cop who never took the job home with him. He and his wife had four children, five grandchildren, and three great-grandchildren. Today one of their sons, one son-in-law, and two of their grandsons proudly wear the uniform of the San Francisco Police Department.

I never had any contact with John Fotinos, and never so much as saw his photograph. And yet, when I first read Zebra four years ago, he and Gus Coreris immediately became heroes of mine. John Fotinos will be missed
anywhere people care about upholding the thin blue line that separates civilization from anarchy.

Public Corroboration

So, where would I get my secondary corroboration? Hiding in plain sight, as it turned out. Hollywood screenwriter Bennett Cohen, with the assistance of retired SFPD Chief Earl Sanders, who gave Cohen"s researchers boxes and boxes of the old SFPD Zebra paper work Sanders had taken with him, wrote a just-released book on the case, The Zebra Murders: A Season of Killing, Racial Madness, and Civil Rights. Cohen, who must have found Gus Coreris" old report complaining about Jesse Byrd"s yeoman efforts on behalf of the NOI assassins, writes that Byrd was, indeed, the NOI mole in the SFPD. Oddly enough, however, Chief Sanders argues that 'all they wanted to do was "“talk" to [Anthony Harris].

As crime historian and retired SFPD deputy chief Kevin J. Mullen, a peer of Gus Coreris and John Fotinos, quipped in his review of Bennett Cohen"s book, "
ÃԠ’â┚¬¦“Yes. And John Gotti had someone ask the FBI for Sammy "“The Bull" Gravano"s address in the Federal Witness Protection Program so that he could update his Christmas card list.

It is impossible to overstate Jesse Byrd"s significance. We have many instances over the years of black activists and groups seeking indirectly to aid and abet black criminals and terrorists, through say, handcuffing police (e.g., prohibiting them from surveilling mosques that are known terrorist meeting places, such as San Francisco"s NOI Mosque #26). However, in all the other cases, there was always at least one degree of separation between the terrorists or criminals and their public supporters. Jesse Byrd is the only case I know of, in which there were zero degrees of separation.

Zebra Memorial Service

The 10th Annual Zebra Victims Memorial Services was held on Friday at 12 noon on the steps of San Francisco City Hall. Organizers had announced that SFPD Commissioner Petra DeJesus had
agreed to attend.

'New Zebra Victims and the Zebra Project

The person who has helped me the most in studying the Zebra case is Lou Calabro, a retired SFPD lieutenant, who was a sergeant at the time of the NOI murders. Calabro encouraged me to undertake a Zebra Project, in order to determine and name all of the white victims of the NOI"s genocidal campaign. Calabro convincingly argued that the project must necessarily be a team effort, due to the massive workload, in seeking after official records and newspaper accounts from those pre-computer and pre-Internet days. Not to mention that with witnesses, survivors, and lawmen dying off, time is of the essence. I ask that anyone with information about any possible NOI racial attacks please write me at Add1dda@aol.com. All correspondence will be kept confidential.

In re-reading passages from Clark Howard"s book, I came up with one surviving non-San Francisco victim, Massachusetts native Thomas Bates, a
hitchhiker who was shot three times near Emeryville. (Clark Howard cited several fatal and non-fatal non-San Francisco NOI attacks; however, Bates was the only such victim whom he named.) Howard has so far not responded to e-mails from me seeking information on his claim that 'just under 270 California whites were murdered by the NOI at the time.

Since my Zebra article last year, two people have sent me information about other possible Zebra victims. In January, one reader wrote,

Richard Asbury was born on Nov. 11, 1940 and died sometime in the late summer early fall of 1970. He had brown hair and brown eyes, ht. 6'1", wt. 160 lbs. He was in Santa Rosa, CA and I believe he was found in the Russian River. I don't believe he had any tattoos or identifying marks. There is rumor of him having ties with the Hell's Angels, but it is all speculation. I will try to get more information.
And two months ago, I learned of Steve Conachy and yet another unidentified victim.

I found your
article on the Zebra killings and wanted to give you some inside info. The first killings took place in Aug 3 1973. To young men were picked up (one in Pacifica in the Fairmont dist. ). One was 18 yrs the other was 21 yrs old. The 21 yrs old"s body was dumped in SF and the other in the San Bruno mountains. They are the very first 2 and forgotten victims of those sick murders done by Black Muslims in SF in 1973.
Those 2 young men did not know each other. They may have never seen each other until that night. They now rest in Colma 20 ft from each other for all eternity. How do I know this? One was my older brother'.

These murders at the time were not put together, 2 different countys were investagting it. My father was a retired SF plice officer and they thought the killing was to get even with him. Which was not the case. About 6 to 8 weeks later the other murders began and my brother and the other poor soul murders were finally connected, but by that time the press was focus on the new killin
gs and the first victims were forgotten about. But that was the start of it in Aug 3 1973.

Thank you for you time in this matter. It is important to me to get the record right and my brother not a forgotten victim'.

Four of the NOI murderers were tried and convicted for the San Francisco killings. They remain in prison today, but they come up periodically for parole:

Jesse Lee Cooks, J.C. Simon (aka J.C.X. Simon), Larry Green and Manuel Moore.

According to crime writer Julia Scheeres, Leroy Doctor was also an NOI assassin. Doctor"s intended victim, Robert Stoeckmann, turned the tables on him, and ended up shooting Doctor three times. Doctor, who lived, was ultimately imprisoned for assault with a deadly weapon. Scheeres is, to my knowledge, the only crime writer so far to list Doctor as an NOI assassin.

Known and Possible Zebra Victims

A partial list of the wounded follows, in Clark Howard"s words:

Richard Hague [Quita"s husband], hi
s face butchered.
'Ellen Linder, [a pseudonym Howard devised to protect her privacy], raped, ravaged, threatened with death.

Arthur Agnos [who would later be elected mayor], surviving after his insides were ripped up by bullets.

'Angela Roselli, surviving with nerve damage in her back.

Roxanne McMillian, surviving but paralyzed from the waist down.

Linda Story, surviving with nerve damage in her back.

Ward Anderson, surviving but in serious condition after being shot down at a city bus stop.

Terry White, also surviving, also in serious condition, after being shot down at the same bus stop.

And courtesy of Julia Scheeres, at Court TV"s crimelibrary.com,

Robert Stoeckmann, grazed in the neck by a shot fired by Leroy Doctor.

A partial list of white NOI murder victims follows, as described by Clark Howard:

Quita Hague, hacked to death'.
Frances Rose, her face blown apart by close-range gunshots.

Saleem Er
akat, tied up and executed.

Paul Dancik, shot down at a public telephone'.

Marietta DiGirolamo, thrown into a doorway and shot to death.

Ilario Bertuccio, killed while walking home from work'.

Neal Moynihan, shot down while taking a teddy bear to his little sister.

Mildred Hosler, shot down while walking toward her bus stop.

John Doe #169, kidnapped, tortured, butchered, decapitated.

Tana Smith, murdered on her way to buy blouse material.

Vincent Wollin, murdered on his sixty-ninth birthday.

John Bambic, murdered while rummaging in a trash bin.

Jane Holly, murdered in a public Laundromat'.

Thomas Rainwater, shot down on the street as he walked to a market'.

And Nelson Shields IV, shot three times in the back as he was straightening out the cargo deck on his station wagon.

And '

Steve Conachy

John Doe (killed with Conachy)

Richard Asbury (?).

I wish to thank all of t
he retired SFPD officers who so generously helped me in the writing of this article, as well as Mrs. John Fotinos. The majority of my material came from Clark Howard"s 1979 work, Zebra: The true account of the 179 days of terror in San Francisco.

 

[Rasp]

The Zebra Killings

The Zebra Killings
Howard Clark​

In 1970s America, a gang of blood-crazed racists in a vilely bigoted religious cult slaughtered their way through an unknown number of innocent victims who were chosen purely for the colour of their skin. But today the case is almost forgotten: there are no anniversaries, no memorials, no retrospective films and TV documentaries. Why? Because the blood-crazed racists were black and the innocent victims white. Below are extracts from Clark Howard's The Zebra Killings, a book that imaginatively reconstructs these scandalously under-reported crimes. The book's lessons grow more urgent and important by the day, for the "Zebra killings" will be repeated on a much larger scale throughout America and Europe if we whites do not separate ourselves from the blacks and other non-whites who hate us and long to destroy us.

Blacks Eagerly Learn to Hate and Kill​

The meetings were held in the loft of a San Francisco warehouse. They were conducted by a dignified black man with a Vandyke beard. He wore a business suit and spoke in a quiet, almost ministerial tone.

"The population of the white man in North America has reached one hundred and three million. The population of the black man is only seventeen million. But" – he held a stiff forefinger next to one ear – "the population of the white man throughout the world is only four hundred million, while the population of the black man throughout the world has now reached four and a half billion."

He turned and strolled at a measured pace before one wall of the loft. Facing him, sitting on old but comfortable club chairs and sofas, was an audience of a dozen black men. Their eyes followed him as he strolled.

"There are fifty-seven million square miles of land on the earth. The white man uses only six million square miles; the black man uses nearly four times that amount: twenty-three million square miles."

In two corners of the room, facing the audience, the speaker's bodyguards stood: two large, powerful black men with narrowed, darting eyes that constantly scanned the attentive faces. These men accompanied the speaker everywhere, one of them driving the Continental in which he rode, the other opening doors for him wherever he went.

"So on the earth today," the speaker continued, "there are more black men than white, and the black men occupy and use more land than the white." He stopped strolling and his voice took on a noticeable edge. "Why then has the white man been able to set himself up as our superior? Why has he been able to control our race for four hundred years? To answer that question" – the forefinger went up again – "we must go back in time and learn how the white man came to be."

The speaker returned to the center of the wall and faced his audience. Something seemed to be happening to his eyes; they were becoming wider, and whiter.

"A thousand years ago, near the holy city of Mecca, there lived an evil black leader named Yakub. He desired to create a race of weak people that he and his ancestors could rule forever. To do this, he began to study the black race. He learned that in every black man there exists two germs: a black germ and a brown germ. He found a way to separate the brown germs from the black germs, and he put the brown germs into all the healthy, strong girls among his followers who were at least sixteen years of age. As they produced babies, he had the black ones separated and fed to wild beasts, but he had the brown ones carefully nursed and raised to adults. When he passed a law that blacks who were alike could not marry; only those who were unlike could marry. Black had to marry brown. Dark had to marry light, and light had to marry lighter.

"Yakub was pleased because he saw his people becoming weaker and weaker, while he and those who ruled with him remained black and strong. For six hundred years there continued this process of grafting brown from black, and lighter brown from darker brown, until finally the original black blood had thinned so much and become so weak that the germ it carried lost all its color and became white. Weak, wicked white."

From the audience came several low grunts of disapproval. The speaker nodded agreement with them.

"By the time the descendants of Yakub realized what had been done, it was too late. The grafted white devils had spread over the earth and were teaching lessons about a new, mysterious god that no one could see until after death. Soon eighty-five percent of the people on earth were being taught about this mystery god. They were being taught by ten percent who were clever and crafty and desired to lead them. Only a scant five percent of the earth's population remained righteously believing in the true god, Allah."

The speaker raised his forefinger like a vengeful sword. "For four hundred years these white infidels have spread their false religion over the land like a great dirty plague, trying to put out the light of Allah. Christians and Jews alike are guilty of setting up rivals to Allah. Both are black-slave-making religions dedicated to the mental destruction of the black man. They are the enemies of Allah and they are the sole people responsible for leading astray nine-tenths of the world's black population."

"Evil!" one of the men in the audience said loudly.

The speaker's eyes widened even more. His voice grew raspy, hissing. "For four hundred years this grafted white devil has controlled the earth and manipulated the black man. For four hundred years he has castrated black men, raped black women and stomped the heads of little black babies!"

"Devils!" said a voice in the audience. It was the same man who had spoken before. He was a thick-necked black man with a clean-shaven skull and eyes like bullet holes. The only soft feature of his entire presence was his long, almost feminine eyelashes. Under the overhead light, his shiny skull glistened. Call this man Head.

"For four hundred years," the speaker now began to rant, "we, the true followers of Allah, the true Muslims of the earth, have suffered persecution at the hands of this grafted white devil who came from our very own diluted seed! We have been relegated to ghettos, deprived of a decent education, victimized in the labor market, and sent to the white man's prisons!" The forefinger whipped across the audience. "There are some in this very room who can give witness to the injustices wreaked on us in the white man's prisons."

"Right on!" said Head. He was one who could give such witness.

"All right!" said a young, light-skinned Negro next to him. So light that his skin had faint freckles on it, he was seven years younger than Head, who was twenty-eight, and handsome in a boyish way. Unlike Head, he could not give witness to anything about the white man's prison, because he had never even been arrested, much less incarcerated. In the muted overhead light, with the dark contrast of Head next to him, he looked almost yellow-skinned. Call him Yellow.

"But we do not need the white man's prisons to prove to us that the white man is our enemy," the Vandyked speaker continued. "We need only to study our lessons from this –" He removed a small book from his inside pocket. "Message to the Black Man," he said, lowering his voice to a reverent tone to read the book's title. Opening the cover, he recited a prayer from the first page. "In the name of Allah, the Beneficent, the Most Merciful Savior, to whom all praise is due for raising up among us a Divine Leader, Teacher, and Guide, the most honorable Elijah Muhammad. As-salaam-allaikum."

"As-salaam-allaikum," the audience repeated in concert. It was a traditional Muslim saying, "Peace be with you."

"Turn to the subject of Islam in this book and you will find your answer as to who is the enemy of Allah," the speaker said. "Turn to the fourth question and the fourth answer and you will see, you will learn. Listen! The fourth question: 'Does Allah have enemies, and who are they?' The fourth answer: 'The enemies of Allah are known at the present as the white race or European race, who are the sole people responsible for misleading nine-tenths of the total population of the black nation.' That" – he stabbed the air above him with his forefinger – "tells us who our enemy is. Now you tell me!"

"The grafted white devil!" said Head.

"White devils!" said Yellow.

"Whites – whites – whites!" said the others in a low chant. Only one man in the audience did not respond. He was the third man who sat on the couch with Head and Yellow. He was the same age as Head, and like Head had been in the white man's prison. The two had met in San Quentin; this one had only recently been released. Nothing about his appearance was unusual; he had neither the boyish good looks of Yellow, nor the cold-eyed countenance of Head. He was simply ordinary-looking. What was extraordinary about him lay under the surface, unseen. It rested in his hands, which were lethal, and his feet, which were deadly. He was an expert at kung fu and jujitsu. Call this one Judo.

"Now that we know the enemy, the speaker said, "what do we do about him?" He smiled, parting the hair around his pink lips. "Simply read the laws of Mohammed. Read the tenth lesson, which asks, 'Why does Mohammed and any Moslem murder the devil?' And answers, 'Because the devil is one hundred percent wicked and will not keep and obey the laws of Islam, His ways and actions are like a snake of the grafted type. Mohammed has learned that he cannot reform the white devils, so they must be murdered. All Moslems will murder the white devil because they know he is a snake. Each Moslem is required to kill four devils, and by bringing and presenting four at one time, his reward is a button to wear on the lapel of his coat, and free transportation to the holy city of Mecca to see Brother Mohammed."

"Praise Brother Mohammed!" the men in the audience said as one voice. Again except for Judo, who remained silent.

"The lessons are clear," the speaker said. His eyes were very wide now, the eyeballs quivering white globes that rolled over the faces before him. "The lessons say who the enemy is!"

"Right on!"

"The lessons say what to do about the enemy!"

"Right on!"

"Kill the grafted snake!"

"Kill it!"

"Kill the evil whites!"

"Kill them!"

"Kill the blue-eyed devils!"

"Kill! Kill! Kill!"

The chant was low, murmured, sloshing across the room like dirty water in a flooded basement. It came from mechanized mouths below mesmerized eyes, robotlike, hypnotic, uncontrollable.

While the chant was going on, the speaker quietly left. His bodyguards opened the doors for him and followed him downstairs and out back to where the Continental was parked. They drove away into the night.

Behind, in the loft, the chant went on, created by the voices of all the men who had listened to the speaker. (pp. 21-25)

Winning their Wings​

Death Angel wings were awarded to each man who killed four white children, five white women, or nine white men.

Upon completion of the required quota, a new member's photograph was taken and a pair of black wings were drawn extending from the neck. The photo was mounted on a board along with pictures of other successful candidates, and the board was displayed on an easel at the loft meetings. At that time, there were fifteen accredited Death Angels in California. To achieve their collective membership, they had already quietly killed throughout the state 135 white men, 75 white women, 60 white children – or enough of a combination thereof to give each of them his required four, five, or nine credits. This was October of 1973. The California attorney general's office had already secretly compiled a list of forty-five of those killings which had taken place in the cities of San Francisco, Oakland, Berkeley, Long Beach, Signal Hill, Santa Barbara, Palo Alto, Pacifica, San Diego, and Los Angeles; and in the counties of San Mateo, Santa Clara, Los Angeles, Contra Costa, Ventura, and Alameda. All of the victims were white. All the known suspects in the killings had been associated with the Black Muslim movement. The killings were even then continuing throughout the state. (pp. 35-36)

Hunting for Humans​

"Come on, man, I want me a white woman or a kid, hear?" said Yellow. "I don't want to **** with no men." He drove past the man on the corner. Head muttered something but did not object further.

Yellow turned left off Battery and began cruising the Telegraph Hill area.

In their apartment at 399 Chestnut Street, Richard Hague and his wife Quita decided to go for a walk after dinner. It was a pleasant evening. Richard put on a light cardigan; Quita pulled a yellow-and-orange South American woolen shawl around her shoulders, over the sweatshirt and cardigan she already had on. They left the apartment and walked west on Chestnut, toward Columbus Avenue.

Richard Hague, age thirty, was a mining engineer employed in the San Francisco office of Utah International Company. Quita, two years younger, was a reporter for the Industrial City press in South San Francisco. The previous month they had celebrated their seventh wedding anniversary.

As they walked downhill on Chestnut, they held hands.

Richard and Quita Hague were white.

"There you are, man," Head said to Yellow when he saw the young white couple. "There's a woman for you and a man for me."

"What about him?" asked Yellow, bobbing his chin toward Judo and speaking as if he were not even present.

"His heart ain't ready," Head replied with a sneer.

"**** you, man!" Judo snapped.

"Pull over there by the corner," Head instructed, ignoring Judo.

Yellow parked on the north side of Chestnut, near the corner of Powell. The young white couple was walking along the south side of the street, toward the same corner.

"You stay with the van like before," Head told Yellow. He turned to Judo. "You gonna help or not, man?" he asked coldly.

Head and Judo locked eyes. Head's question was a direct challenge and Judo knew it.

"I'm right behind you, man," said Judo. At that moment he hated Head.

Head and Judo got out of the van and strolled across the street. They stepped on to the sidewalk a hundred feet in front of the white couple. They separated: Head stood at the curb, Judo leaned against a fence across the sidewalk. The white couple would have to walk between them.

Quita Hague frequently had trouble with people mispronouncing her name. Most people pronounced it as it was spelled, coming up with something like "Quee-ta". The correct pronunciation was "Kee-ta". She had developed a clever way to point out the correct pronunciation: She would say, "Just think of me as Quita Banana." It worked like a charm.

Quita was a vivacious, outgoing young woman with a keen, often infectious sense of humor. She was quick to laugh at her own misfortunes, such as running out of gas on the Bayshore Freeway at midnight. Her pixie grin and freckles often caused people to mistake her for Irish. But her maiden name was Pirelli-Minetti, and one of the things she was most proud of in life was that her grandfather, a vineyard specialist, had been one of the earliest graduates of Stanford University, in the class of 1906.

As she walked with her husband this evening, Quita was looking forward to Christmas. She liked Christmas better than any other holiday. It was still two months away, but she habitually started thinking about it early. Whenever the season approached, she was always reminded of the first Christmas she and Richard had spent together. They had been married four months and were living in South West Africa where Richard was employed as a geologist. There was no such thing as an evergreen Christmas tree to be found, so Quita decided that they should decorate a camelthorn bush, which had an abundance of small green leaves as well as countless tiny thorns. It, along with an uncommonly tough turkey and sweltering temperatures, did little to bring them any of the traditional holiday spirit. They ended up celebrating Christmas at a local swimming pool to escape the heat.

It had not been much of a first Christmas, but for a sentimental Quita it was a memory she cherished.

She held Richard's hand a little tighter as they walked down Chestnut – toward two black men lounging on opposite sides of the sidewalk.

As the Hagues started to walk between them, Head reached out and grabbed Richard by the arm. "Hold it, man. Don't move. You coming with us."

Judo stepped away from the fence and leveled a gun at them. He was standing downhill, looking up at them. Richard froze. But not Quita.

"No, no, no," she said, frightened, her voice breaking. She bolted past Judo and ran several yards downhill.

Now Head drew a gun. He pointed it at Richard's chest. "Get on back up here, woman," he said to Quita, "or I'll kill him." The eyes of Quita Hague and her husband met for a split instant in the dull gray of the streetlight.

"They already have us," said Richard. "Let's cooperate. They won't hurt us."

Reluctantly, hesitantly, Quita walked back up to where her husband was being held. Judo took her arm.

"Over to that van," Head said. Still holding Richard's arm, he guided him across the narrow street. Judo followed a step behind with Quita.

Yellow saw them coming. He hopped out and ran around to open the cargo doors on the passenger side.

"Get in there," Head ordered, shoving Richard toward the van. Hague climbed into the van. "Move over there and lay down," said Head. "On your stomach." Hague crawled over and stretched out facedown next to the furniture pads stacked in the bed of the van.

"Now you," Head nodded to Quita.

"No!" she said, terrified again. She started to run a second time. Yellow, younger and faster than either Head or Judo, reached out and grabbed her by the hair. He jerked her back and slammed her against the side of the van. She groaned and started to go limp.

"Get in there!" Yellow snapped, grabbing her under the arm, up close to the shoulder, and manhandling her into the van.

He made her stretch out behind the passenger seat, facedown like her husband was lying. "You lay there, bitch!" he said in his ugly, boyish voice. The urine had dried on his trousers now and he felt better. More like a man.

Then suddenly he heard something that made even his bowels queasy.

"****, man!" Judo hissed. "A ****ing cop car is coming." Police officers Bruce Marovich and Ben McAllister were proceeding slowly down Chestnut toward Powell. McAllister was driving the black-and-white radio car; Marovich was in the passenger seat, routinely checking the street. As they passed the middle of the block, Marovich observed some activity on the sidewalk next to where a light-colored Dodge van was parked. He frowned, studying the situation, as the radio car slowly passed the van. Marovich had been a policeman for more than five years. He could see nothing really suspicious occurring at the van, and yet –

"Hold it a minute," he said to McAllister. "Back up next to that white van."

McAllister backed up. As they halted parallel to the van, Head walked around to them.

"What's going on?" Marovich asked out the passenger window.

"Everything's okay, officer," Head said with a smile. "We had a flat and we're fixing it."

Behind Head, Marovich could see another black man. He was vaguely aware of still a third person around by the open cargo door. But nothing seemed out of order. The two blacks he could see up close were neatly dressed, well-groomed men; certainly not hubcap thieves.

Marovich thought about it for a moment. Then he said, "Okay."

He nodded to his partner and they drove on, continuing their patrol.

Minutes later, the van was on the freeway again, heading south toward the railroad yards below the Central Basin. Yellow was driving. Head was in the rear, astraddle Richard Hague, tying his hands behind him with heavy twine. Judo was next to him, astraddle Quita. Her hands were already tied. Judo had her rolled onto her side; one hand was up under her sweat shirt, feeling her breasts.

Yellow glanced in the rearview mirror and saw Head looking through Richard Hague's wallet. "We not allowed to steal, man," he said.

"You just drive," Head snapped. "I ain't doing nothing but just looking." He closed the wallet and shoved it back into Richard's pocket. Then he rolled Hague over and started going through his front pockets.

Hague raised his head and saw that Judo was doing something to Quita. "What are you doing to her?" he asked.

Judo, angered at being watched by the white woman's husband, reached over and hit him in the mouth. "Shut up, mother****er!" He glanced at Head. "Man, make him keep his ****ing face down."

"Keep your face down, mother****er," Head ordered.

Hague raised his head again, blood running over his bottom lip from Judo's backhand. "What is he doing to her?" Head reached behind him and picked up a straight lug wrench. "I done told you to keep your white mother****ing face down!" He swung the lug wrench and smashed Richard Hague's jaw. Hague's head flopped back as if his neck were broken; blood gushed from his nostrils. Head hit him again, breaking his jaw in two more places. "I told the mother****er once," he mumbled. "I don't tell no mother****er twice." He hit him with the lug wrench a third time.

"Rick – " Quita said. It was little more than a plaintive whisper.

"Shut up, bitch," said Judo. He had Quita on her back now, sweat shirt and cardigan pushed up around her neck, fondling her exposed breasts with both hands.

Head got off the unconscious Richard and moved over to them. He put his hand between Quita's legs and started rubbing her through her jeans. Quita's hands were tied behind her back and she was lying on them. She had made fists and was arching her body up to relieve the pain in her wrists. Head thought she was pushing her lower body up because he was rubbing her. "You like that, baby?" he asked with a lewd grin. He looked around Judo at her face. "You suck dick, baby?" "Hey, man," said Yellow at the wheel, "we supposed to kill the white devils, not **** with them."

Head ignored him. He was trying to unbuckle a wide leather belt that Quita wore on her jeans, but he could not manage it because Judo was sitting too far back on her. He tried to get his hand to the zipper to unzip the fly, but he could not reach that either. "****, man," he said in frustration. He unzipped his own trousers and released his erection.

Yellow looked over his shoulder. "We don't supposed to be ****ing with these white devils," he warned again. "We only supposed to kill them." Head had one hand curled around his hard penis. "Ain't no rule says I can't **** a white devil before we kill her," he argued. "Ain't that right, man?" he asked Judo, slapping him on the shoulder.

"Don't ask me, man," Judo replied. "I don't know no rules." Judo maneuvered around until he was not on top of Quita anymore but was kneeling beside her, near her neck. He bent and sucked one of her nipples.

At the wheel, Yellow was becoming increasingly agitated. This was not the way it was supposed to be. Not sucking on the white devil's tits or trying to get inside her clothes. He glanced at the next off-ramp sign: PENNSYLVANIA AVENUE. There were lonely, isolated railroad spurs just east of Pennsylvania Avenue. Yellow stepped down on the accelerator and changed to the off-ramp lane.

Quita Hague's face was turned to the wall of the van. Tears streamed down her cheeks, trailing into her mouth and onto her neck. Her hands felt numb. She could feel Judo's lips sucking her nipple raw; she could see Head walking toward her face on his knees, trousers open, black penis erect. And from the front of the van was the constant, whining voice talking about killing white devils.

"Please – please – she begged. "Rape me – take my money but please don't kill me – please." "We won't, baby," said Head, "leastwise, not until we through with you." Yellow got off the freeway, doubled back up Pennsylvania to Twenty-third Street, and drove under the freeway toward the industrial area. As he had surmised, the neighborhood was quiet, devoid of activity. Past Indiana Avenue he drove, to Minnesota. He swung into Minnesota, feeling gravel replace pavement under the tires. In seconds he was past Twenty-fourth Street. He drove alongside a single-track railroad spur until it turned down a narrow alley of warehouses and loading docks. There he jammed on the brakes and skidded to a halt.

"That white devil belongs to me!" he yelled.

Yellow leaped from behind the wheel and ran to the cargo door. He threw it open with a vengeance and reached under the back of the passenger seat. When he drew his hand out again, it held a sixteen-inch machete. He made several chops at the air with it, as if testing it.

"Say, man, be careful with that mother****er," Head said, covering his erection protectively.

"This white devil is mine!" Yellow declared again. His voice was a loud hiss; the boyish features of his face were distorted: lips twisted, eyes narrowed to slits, Adam's apple throbbing. "I want her! She's mine!"

"Yeah, right, man, take her," Judo agreed quickly. "Just watch out with that ****ing sword."

Yellow took Quita Hague by her thick, dark hair and dragged her from the van. She came out on her side and fell heavily to the ground. Yellow dragged her up to her knees, dragged her on her knees for several yards, then angrily, impatiently, pulled her to her feet.

"Oh, please – oh, no – " she pleaded, choking and crying.

Yellow jerked viciously at her hair to make her keep up.

She stumbled, staggered, almost fell. Her wrists were raw from the twine, her knees throbbing from falling on them and being dragged on them, her scalp a mass of pain as her hair was literally being pulled out by the roots. But she probably felt none of that agony because her entire being had to be laced with the terrible fear of impending death. She could see the machete in Yellow's hand. She must have known what he was going to do with it.

"Oh, please – oh, no – "

When Yellow got her where he wanted her, next to the railroad spur, he let go of her hair and used a hip throw to drop her to the ground. Judo, watching from next to the van, realized that it was a throw he himself had taught Yellow when he, Judo, first came out of prison. It was one of the basic jujitsu throws. Easy to execute. Particularly easy when applied to a terrified woman, forty pounds lighter, with hands tied behind her back.

"Oh, please – oh, no – "

Yellow grabbed her by the hair again and dragged her across one of the rails. When he let go, a handful of her hair came out, entwined in his fingers. Yellow stared at it in revulsion; he frantically shook his hand until the hair came loose and drifted to the ground.

"Now your head is mine, white devil," Yellow said.

"Oh, please – oh, no – please – "

It was the last time Quita would beg for her life.

Yellow raised the machete high in the air and brought it down with all his strength on the throat of Quita Hague.

Head and Judo were standing by the parked van when Yellow came running back over to them.

"I did it! I did it!" Yellow shouted triumphantly. He threw his hands into the air, still holding the bloody machete, and did a brief victory dance. It was, Judo thought, not unlike the quick little dances that football players do in the end zone following a touchdown. Judo stared at Yellow's wild-eyed, frenzied grin. "You ought to see the blood gushing out of that devil's neck!" Yellow said. "It's wonderful, wonderful! I got to get a picture of it!" He shoved the machete into Head's hand and ran around the van. From under the driver's seat, he removed a Polaroid camera with flash attached. He hurried back to the railroad spur with it.

Head stared at the bloodstained blade he held. "Blue-eyed devils," he muttered. "I wanted that bitch to suck my dick." He peered in at Richard Hague in the van. "I bet she sucked his dick," he said indignantly. "Blue-eyed mother****er!" With sudden ferocity. Head reached in with the machete and hacked at the unconscious Richard Hague's face. He hacked twice. Three times. Then, drooling slightly over his puffy lips, he dragged the limp form out of the van and across the ground. Judo, wide-eyed, watched Head walk away, pulling Richard Hague by one arm behind him. Crazy, Judo thought, the mother****er is crazy.

When Head approached the railroad spur, he saw a flashbulb explode. Then another. Yellow taking pictures of his kill, he thought sullenly. He gots a woman and I only gots a man. ****. Head dragged Richard Hague to the opposite side of the tracks from where Quita lay. A man's better than nothing, he thought. Leastwise, better than what Judo was getting tonight. As indifferently as if he were chopping wood, Head began hacking away at Richard Hague's face.

Across the tracks, Yellow finished taking pictures. He too thought briefly about Judo, waiting back at the van; Judo, who would get credit for no kill tonight. Then Yellow remembered a ring he had seen on Quita Hague's finger: a white gold ring with a green stone. He knew that Death Angels were not supposed to steal from their victims, but he decided to take the ring away – for Judo. His friend was getting married in a few days; maybe he could use the ring. Bending, Yellow rolled Quita sideways enough to expose her limp, twisted wrists, and worked the ring off her finger.

As Yellow stepped back across the tracks, he saw Head still hacking away. "Hey, brother, you want a picture of that devil?" he asked.

"Don't need no picture, man," Head muttered. "If I say I killed the mother****er, then I killed him. Don't need no picture."

"Okay, brother." Yellow hurried back to the van.

When he was alone again, Head took Richard Hague's wallet and slipped it into his own pocket. No one would ever know, be told himself.

Several minutes later, Head returned to the van, tossed the bloody machete into the back, and got in.

Without headlights, the van drove slowly away from the railroad spur and the carnage that had been spread over it.

Shortly after eleven o'clock that night, John Battenberg and his wife Beverly were in their car driving west on Twenty-fifth Street. Battenberg was a forty-one-year-old professor of art at San Jose State University. As the Hagues had done earlier, the Battenbergs decided to get some air before going to bed. Unlike the Hagues, they drove instead of walking.

As their car passed the intersection of Minnesota Avenue, the Battenbergs saw a figure lurch from the shadows and stagger toward the street.

"Looks like he's drunk," said Beverly Battenberg.

"Looks like," her husband agreed. Then John Battenberg took a closer look. "Wait a minute. That man's hands are tied behind his back.

Battenberg pulled over and got out of the car. He hurried toward the lurching figure.

It was Richard Hague.

In shock, badly hacked about the face and head, Hague had done the incredible: he had clung to life, struggled to his feet with hands still tied, and set out on foot looking for help for his wife.

Battenberg was appalled at what he saw. Richard Hague's head was horribly mutilated. The flesh had been hacked open down to the bone. His skull was open and exposed. Ghastly strips of skin hung from his face, dripping steady rivulets of blood. He was muttering incoherently.

Battenberg untied Hague's hands, dropping the rough twine to the ground. He guided Hague to his car. Not sure where the nearest hospital was located, he drove to the nearby Potrero District police station. The van, meanwhile, had sped south on the freeway. It parked behind an apartment in the Hunters Point section. Judo went to the door of the apartment and knocked. The door was answered by a plump, round-faced young black woman dressed in Muslim robes.

"As-salaam-alaikum," Judo said, speaking the Muslim greeting. "As-salaam-alaikum," she replied.

"I need a favor," Judo said. "My friends and I need a place to wash up."

The woman noticed dark spots on his Nehru coat and the pink shirt he wore under it. "What have you been doing?' she asked.

Judo smiled. "We been out killing white folks," he said. His voice was half serious, half joking. He took the young woman's hand. "Listen, I don't want you mixed up in this. You go on in the bedroom and stay until they're gone. Don't ask no questions, hear?"

She studied his eyes for a long moment, then she nodded and went into her bedroom.

Head and Yellow washed up in the bathroom, scrubbing the Hague's blood off their hands and arms. Then the three men filled a small garbage can with water and took it out to the van. They removed the furniture pads and sluiced down the cargo floor, cleaning out Richard Hague's blood. Yellow used the excess water to wash off the machete, and put it back under the passenger seat.

When Yellow and Judo were away from Head momentarily, Yellow gave Judo the ring he had taken from Quita Hague. "Just so's the night won't be a complete mess for you," he said. "Maybe you can use it at your wedding."

"Thanks, man, Judo said. "I appreciate it."

In the light of the kitchen, Judo examined the ring. Inside the band it was engraved: REH to QPM 9-17-66 ALL MY LOVE. Judo rubbed several tiny specks of red off the white gold and slipped the ring into his pocket.

At the police station, John Battenberg ran up to the first occupied patrol car he saw and banged on the window. "I've got a man over here who may be dying!"

Officers Donald Hensic and John Chestnut hurried to the Battenberg car. They took one look at Richard Hague and immediately radioed a request for a Code Three ambulance emergency lights and siren. Within ten minutes, Hague was on his way to San Francisco General Hospital.

The two policemen, along with another team and a sergeant, returned with the Battenbergs to the intersection of Twenty-fifth and Minnesota. They began to search the area. The first thing they found was the length of twine that John Battenberg had taken off Richard Hague's hands. Next they found a small pool of still-wet blood where Richard had lain. Then they found several patches of brown hair lying between the rails. Finally they found Quita.

Back at the Hunters Point apartment, Head and Yellow had left and Judo and the Muslim girl were alone.

"You shouldn't be over here without a chaperone," she told him. "We're not married yet."

"We will be in three days," Judo said. "Anyway, I got a present for you and I wanted us to be alone when I gave it to you."

He put Quita Hague's white-gold-and-emerald ring on her finger.

"Oh, honey, it's so pretty!" she praised, holding the back of her hand up to see how it looked on her. "My, it must have cost something!"

"It wasn't cheap," Judo said.

At the railroad spur, Quita Hague was being photographed in death for the second time. Standing around her body were men from the Crime Lab, Photo Lab, Operations Center, and Homicide details, and a representative from the coroner's office. Quita was still lying across one rail of the tracks. Her hair, face, and upper torso were matted with her own drying blood. Her head lay back at a grotesque angle, its neck open, almost severed from the body. Her windpipe and most of her major neck arteries had been cut open, and her backbone and spinal cord had been lacerated.

Her hands were still tied behind her back.

Quita Hague was pronounced dead at 11.45 p.m.

At the end of Day One, there were two victims.

Quita Hague was dead, hacked to death.

Richard Hague was still alive, in shock, his face and head horribly mutilated. (pp. 36-47)

 

[Rasp]

Random White Victim Kidnapped for Butchery​

The white man they had kidnapped off the street twelve hours earlier was absolutely terrified. They had him stripped naked and bound hand and foot to a straight-back wooden chair. The chair, in turn, was securely tied to a loft pillar so that he could not move it around or tip it over. A dirty cloth had been stuffed into his mouth and strips of adhesive tape stretched over it. He could breathe, but that was ail.

The man was young: about twenty-five. Average: five ten, 140 pounds. He had been selected the previous night while watching a group of street entertainers in Ghirardelli Square, the modern shopping and dining complex at the edge of Fisherman's Wharf. Four blacks followed him out of the complex and caught up with him on a lonely block of North Point Street. They literally surrounded him, one of them pushing the barrel of a gun against his ribs.

"Be cool, mother****er," he was told with a smile. "Cause us any trouble and you die here and now."

Since they had tied him to the chair, he had wished a hundred times that he had caused them trouble, that he had made a scene, that he had tried to get away. A quick death on the street seemed more desirable with every hour that passed. God only knew what they planned to do to him.

His clothes had been taken away and were lying in a pile in the comer. His wallet, money, and other personal belongings were on a chair next to the pile. His kidnappers had seemed particularly pleased when they examined his identification. "This sucker ain't even from around here, man," one of them said. "He probably won't even be reported missing here."

For the most part he had been left alone in the loft. From time to time one or two blacks who had not been among the abductors would come up to have a look at him. Occasionally they made comments.

"Don't see why the mothers couldn't have grabbed a woman," one of them said. "We could have had a dick-sucking party then."

"You still can, baby," replied his friend. "He look about like your type." The friend laughed all the way down the stairs.

Another one who came up, alone, glared at him for several long minutes. "You white mother****ing devil," he muttered. "You evil white grafted-snake mother****ing devil."

Still another smiled coldly at him and said, "I got something for you, honky." He took out his penis and urinated all over the bound man's stomach and crotch.

As the day wore on. the captive's body began to ache from the ordeal of being tied in one position; his stomach growled in anger from hunger; he grew stiff, sore, cold. But all of his physical discomfort was insignificant compared to the terrible mental terror he felt. The men who had him were obviously mad, insane. And the things they might do to him – unspeakable.

Although he did not know exactly what those things were, he was certain that his worst fears would be realized. He would gladly have taken his own life [rather] than face the coming night hours. (pp. 170-172)

Butchery Begins​

In the loft, the white man tied to the chair was trying to shrivel up inside himself. His eyes were wide with terror and his pale, naked body trembled both from fear and exposure. For an hour now the blacks had been coming upstairs in twos and threes, and just standing in front of him, looking at him, studying him. And smiling, forever smiling: wide, bright smiles: pearly-white teeth in dark faces with eyes that seldom blinked.

He knew the time was near because there was an electricity among them, an underlying tension and excitement, a nervousness, like the aura in a contender's dressing room minutes before a title shot. What the hound man did not know was the reason for the feeling. Something was going to happen; he just did not know what.

They're going to sexually attack me, he thought. Like he had heard they did to new men in prison. That must be why his clothes had been taken away and he had been left naked. They planned to hold him down and use him sexually, force him to serve them sexually.

And then, pray God, when they were finished with him, they would throw him in an alley somewhere and it would be all over. God, it would be all over –

But even as he thought it, he knew he was deluding himself. He knew that it was not going to be like that. A terrible, putrid sickness deep in the pit of him told him that he was living his last minutes of life. This loft – this shabby, seedy loft with its heavy, musty smell – was the last thing he would ever see.

They were going to kill him.

When nighttime came and the loft grew dark, he heard them filing up the stairs, laughing and joking and making fun out of everything, like rowdy kids on a playground. Then the lights went on and the doorway to the stairwell was carefully closed and bolted. They came over to him and stood around him in a semicircle, the first time all of them were there at once. There were no smiles, no grins, now that the time had come. This was going to be serious business, done purposefully and determinedly. There was, their faces said, a reason for what they were about to do.

One of the men went to a closet and came back with a topless cardboard box containing a collection of knives, meat cleavers, metal cutters, and machetes. "Everybody take one," he said.

The men filed up to the box; each one selected a single instrument.

"Now line up."

The men formed a single column.

"We'll take turns. I go first."

The man stepped next to the bound, gagged prisoner. He paused a beat, then suddenly, viciously, cut off the man's left ear.

The next one in line opened a pair of metal cutters and snipped off a thumb.

The next used a meat cleaver to chop off three toes.

The victim's screams were choked back by the gag in his mouth. Only muffled, horrible, animal grunts could be heard in the room. Mercifully, the bound man soon lost consciousness. The carnage continued nevertheless.

Methodically, the men in the line butchered their prisoner like a hog in a slaughterhouse. (pp. 178-179)

Season's Greetings from the Black Race​

[O]n Christmas Eve morning, two miles south of where Judo let the bundle fall into the sea, two young women, Dorene Racouillat and Sara Scott, were walking Dorene's dog on the beach at the foot of Pacheco Street. They found the bundle washed up on the beach. The yellow twine, fashioned into a net, had held during the bundle's roll down the embankment, subsequent plunge into the sea, and tumultuous journey down two miles of rocky, sandy coastline; but the tarpaulin had folded away in places and there were tears and rips in the plastic. One such rip was triangular, about four inches in length along each side. Through the hole, the two young women could see the unmistakable sight of hairy human flesh with a streak of matted blood across it.

The police were called. Officers John Hanifin and Max Schenk responded. As soon as they saw what the bundle contained, they summoned the various persons who were required at the scene: Lieutenant Mikulik and Sergeant O'Connor, to take charge of the physical area; Hicks of the Photo Lab to take the gory pictures; Jackson of the Crime Lab to look for physical evidence; Armstrong and McKenna of Homicide; and Dr Jindrich of the coroner's office to pronounce the victim dead. The latter was only a formality.

The bundle was eventually moved downtown to the coroner's office. More gory photographs were taken. Then the morgue attendants began the worst job of all: the unwrapping of the bundle. What they found was ghastly.

The body was without head, hands, or feet. The head had been severed at the base of the neck, the hands just above the wristbone, the feet just above the ankles. Both arms were held in place at the sides of the torso by wire. The knees had been drawn up to the chest and also bound in place by wire. The lower abdomen had been cut open from hipbone to hipbone; intestines and other internal organs had spilled forth from the gaping wound. It was a sight that even the most hardened morgue attendant would remember for a long time to come.

There was no way to identify the body: no marks, scars, tattoos, or anything else that might offer a clue. And of course no latent prints, dental work, or anything of that nature – not unless the other parts of the body were found. Or unless a missing persons report turned up, or someone came forward who would recognize what there was of the remains.

In the interim, the body was listed as John Doe No. 169. (pp. 184-185)

 

[Gman]

Damn!!!! Reading this series of posts is making me crazy!! Wake up white america before it is too late!!

gman

 

[voiceofreason]

DEAD LINK http://www.ktvu.com/story/28481938/infamous-zebra-killer-dies-in-san-quentin
Latest working link, added spaces to compare https: //www.ktvu. com/ news/ infamous-zebra-killer-dies-in-san-quentin

Quote1984 by George Orwell: "Every record has been destroyed ... - Goodreads​

George Orwell. "Every record has been destroyed or falsified, every book rewritten, every picture has been repainted, every statue and street building has been renamed, every date has been altered. And the process is continuing day by day and minute by minute. History has stopped."

AS OF 9/8/2023 FRESH SANITIZED ALTERED STORY BELOW LINK

Infamous ‘Zebra Killer' dies in San Quentin

`Zebra killer" inmate JCX Simon, who along with three others terrorized San Francisco with a mid-1970s killing spree that included 14 murders, has been found dead in San Quentin prison cell, prison...

www.ktvu.com

ORIGINAL LINK STORY
Infamous ‘Zebra Killer' dies in San Quentin
3/13/15

SAN FRANCISCO (AP) -- `Zebra killer" inmate JCX Simon, who along with three others terrorized San Francisco with a mid-1970s killing spree that included 14 murders, has been found dead in San Quentin prison cell, prison authorities said.

Simon was convicted with Larry Green, Manuel Moore and Jessie Lee Cooks of first-degree murder and conspiracy to commit first-degree murder after an 18-hour deliberation by the jury in 1976.

The men were charged with 14 murders and eight assaults. There were 22 crimes in a six-month crime spree involving mostly white victims.

Below is KTVU'S ALTERED TEXT FROM LATEST LINK with the IDENTICAL post date of March 13, 2015 - removing the above story's 1st paragraph. Removed the 3rd paragraph with the "white victims" part of story.

Infamous ‘Zebra Killer' dies in San Quentin

`Zebra killer" inmate JCX Simon, who along with three others terrorized San Francisco with a mid-1970s killing spree that included 14 murders, has been found dead in San Quentin prison cell, prison...

www.ktvu.com

article

Infamous ‘Zebra Killer' dies in San Quentin​

Published March 13, 2015
The California Department of Corrections and Rehabilitation said Friday that Simon's body was found in his one-man cell shortly before midnight Thursday. The cause of death is unknown, and an autopsy is planned.

Simon was convicted with Larry Green, Manuel Moore and Jessie Lee Cooks of first-degree murder and conspiracy to commit first-degree murder after an 18-hour deliberation by the jury in 1976.

The 69-year-old was convicted of two first-degree murder charges in 1976 and was serving a life sentence with the possibility of parole. The three others are serving life sentences.

/AU

 

[Arheel's Uncle]

Nelson Shields IV

The gun laws enacted because of his murder by a black with a gun, must be challenged across the entire country. Gun control laws which his father bought with lobbyist bribes with the financial help of the DuPonts (gunpowder mfg fortune - irony) serves only to leave White people unprotected and at the mercy of 3 dominant violent gangs who do not follow laws and think nothing of killing you. That is also why extremist anti-gun rights Jewess Diane Feinstein got sElected. Consequently, gun laws in California are communistic.
In order of gang size:
blacks
mexican/hispanics
asians

Nelson T. Shields IV (1951-1974) - Find a Grave...

Nelson Nick Shields was shot to death by J.C. Simon. His murder was one of a series which took place in San Francisco between 1973 and 1974. The murders were known as the Zebra killings. Simon is serving a life sentence in a California prison. Nick's father, Nelson Shields III, became an...

www.findagrave.com

Nelson "Nick" Shields was shot to death by "J.C." Simon. His murder was one of a series which took place in San Francisco between 1973 and 1974. The murders were known as the "Zebra" killings. Simon is serving a life sentence in a California prison. Nick's father, Nelson Shields III, became an anti-gun lobbyist in Washington as a result of his son's death. The senior Mr. Shields passed away in 1993.
Birth 17 Mar 1951
Greenville, New Castle County, Delaware, USA
Death 16 Apr 1974 (aged 23)
Ingleside, San Francisco County, California, USA
Burial Cremated, Ashes given to family or friend. Specifically: Ashes buried near the family home in Delaware.

The San Francisco Zebra Killings

2,421 words Clark Howard Zebra New York: Richard Marek Publishers, 1979 A central unexamined political issue in the United States is the failure to manage its African population since the end of the Civil War. This problem is foundational to every American public policy issue and every social...

counter-currents.com

Tana Smith’s deliberate race-blindness can be attributed to the tone set by the upper class in covering up the failures of “Civil Rights.”

Perhaps the most tragic case of upper class failure is that of Nelson Shields III.[8] Shields had been a Navy Fighter pilot during World War II. After his son Nelson Shields IV was killed, he resigned his position at DuPont and became an anti-gun lobbyist in Washington D.C. He got armor-piercing bullets outlawed and the importation of repair parts for Saturday night specials banned. But he refused to face the fact that the problem is not guns, it is blacks with guns. Since becoming “red-pilled,” I have found it strange that WWII veterans whose incredible acts of courage in battle will remembered for millennia simply folded up with fear when faced with the truth of black pathologies post-“Civil Rights.” In truth, white support for “Civil Rights” is, like defending South Korea or Israel, all cost and no benefit.

Earl Prentice Sanders, the black cop & book author with Cohen, was running protection of the black NOI killers

Louis E. Calabro
1.0 out of 5 stars Sanders May allow some Zebra Murderers free on the Streets of America
Reviewed in the United States on October 10, 2006

There is so much in the book that can be considered a distortion of the facts its hard to know where to begin. Most importantly, remember, ALL the killers were not prosecuted. They remain free on the streets of America.
And, Sanders may have contributed to them never being prosecuted. The FBI currently has an "uncaptured" Zebra suspect under surveillance.

Here's what Sander's has done to maybe prevent a prosecution from going foward. He claims that a box of Zebra reports (and evidence?) inadavertently arrived at his home when he retired as Chief of Police. He then writes in his book that he allowed the co-author of his book, Bennett Cohen, to look at the Zebra reports (and evidence?).

As a long time Homocide Inspector (Detective) he knows that he could have compromised the case. The box should have been immediately returned to the Police Department. A Police Department investigation is need to determine how he came into possession of the Zebra boxed reports--and have they been returned.

We fear that this story about how the box arrived at his home may be a coverup in that he may have allowed co-author Cohen to see all of the files that he ordered placed in his office while he was Chief of Police, in anticipation of writing this book.

All of his effort just to glorifiy his name ( as he does throughout the book) makes his career a sad commentary for any young African American person looking for a legitmate black hero to emulate. They need and deserve legitimate black heroes as role models. His failure to immediately return the box of Zebra case files shows him as man who lacks integrity, lacks a good sense of "professional ethics" and is less than a responsible law enforcement representative. Louis Calabro, Retired San Francisco Police Lieutenant.

88 people found this helpful

The book author, black Cop Earl Sanders was crooked as TNB are.
In 2002 Sanders and Hendrix were accused of misconduct during the 1989 murder arrest and conviction of 2 young African American men, colluding with prosecutors in suppressing a confession from another person.

#1 https://www.law.umich.edu/special/exoneration/Pages/casedetail.aspx?caseid=3241

#2 "S.F. may pay freed man $4.5 million settlement".

 

[Arheel's Uncle]

THOMAS MANNEY, was one that was let go at age 31,
today's age 80 (listed age auto-updates, it's misleading), arrested on warrant in 2008, has 4 arrests after 2006.
Last arrests 13-15 years ago at age mid 60s, he's probably still out criming.

Thomas Manney Arrest Record Details | Local Crime News in Alameda County, California - 68691187

Thomas Manney of Oakland, age 80, was arrested for Warrants Or Holds Only in Alameda County, California on September 3, 2008 by Alameda Police. This arrest data includes all information on current and previous arrests for Thomas Manney

www.localcrimenews.com

Arrested For	WARRANT - Warrants Or Holds Only
Arrest Date	September 3, 2008

Arrest Name	Thomas Manney
Address	Not Available
City, State	Oakland, CA
Age / Gender	80 / Male
Race	Black

Thomas Manney​

Age: N/A – Oakland, CA

County: Alameda
Reported On: Jun 16, 2006
Arrested For:
488, 666...

488 - Petty Theft 666 - Petty Theft With Prior (before 2006)

............

Thomas Manney​

Age: 80 – Oakland, CA

County: Alameda
Reported On: Oct 18, 2006
Arrested For:
484(A)...Petty Theft
.....................

Thomas Manney​

Age: 80 – Oakland, CA

County: Alameda
Reported On: Mar 17, 2008
Arrested For:

11350(A) - Possession of Narcotic Controlled Substance 1203.2(A) - Revocation Of Probation

.......................................

Thomas Manney​

Age: 80 – Oakland, CA

County: Alameda
Reported On: Sep 16, 2008
Arrested For:
WARRANT...Warrants Or Holds Only

 

[Arheel's Uncle]

Others arrested but released d/t lack of evidence.

Leroy Doctor, 35

Dwight Stallings, 28

Edgar D. Burton, 22

Clarence Jamerson, 27

4 SUSPECTS FREE IN ZEBRA KILLINGS - The New York Times​

May 4, 1974 Manual Moore, Larry C Green and J C Simon arraigned on May 3 in Zebra killings; suspects Thomas Manney, Dwight Stallings, Edgar Burton and Clarence Jamerson released for lack of evidence; Moore...