Ethan could no longer keep his son in line. He became—how should I say this—
quiet. The mother was total y the dominant personality. They were always arguing and bantering. He’d real y cuss her up and down, screaming at
her. I know if I had spoken to my parents that way, they would have kil ed me. Starr cal ed her a ‘c—’ and stuff like that. It was awful and this was at
the dinner table.”
Cheney elaborated on this. “Starr’s father was a decorated jet pilot,” he told me. “I don’t know if he got shot down or he had a wreck, but he had
an accident and was injured pretty badly and was medical y discharged. I didn’t know him from the days when he was stil in the Navy. He was stil
active, but apparently had lost some of his fire. He wasn’t the hot jet pilot he had once been. He stil went to work and stil was a draftsman on Mare
Island. He wasn’t bummed up. He could walk al right and al of his functions were normal. He was a nice guy. The family had commissary privileges
and had I.D. cards so they could shop on military bases. The Wing Walker shoes he wore probably came from Mare Island. They were made for
pilots and crewmen.”
From the street Mulanax idled his car and observed the smudged, practical y ground-level window to Starr’s disordered basement apartment,
and tried to imagine what it must be like. He stil yearned to have a peek. Starr’s mother had described her son’s inner sanctum as stacked with
books. Starr was quite the student, “a professional student,” his brother said. “After summer vacation,” Bernice had explained, “he intends to return
to col ege at Cotati for the fal semester.” Mulanax thought back to 1969 and to another summer vacation—tumultuous times, violent times for
Val ejo.
Starr had been a student then too and Zodiac had been at his boldest, grasping Water Town in a grip of fear. With the intimate knowledge of a
Val ejo resident, he capitalized on a citywide police and firemen’s strike. Throughout the walkout there were only two dozen California Highway
Patrolmen to cruise about and enforce traffic laws for a city of 72,000. On July 21, negotiators almost had the strike licked, but Apol o 11 delayed a
settlement meeting when Governor Reagan declared a moon-flight holiday.
So far summer vacation 1971 had been less turbulent, thought Mulanax. Val ejo had a highly efficient law enforcement team in place and Starr
had a job with Union Oil of California to keep him occupied. Returning to headquarters just before lunch, Mulanax rang the Union Oil refinery at
Pinole and spoke with McNamara in Personnel. He confirmed Starr was employed as a junior chemist in their lab, had been since September 8,
1970. But Starr could not have been very happy at Pinole. Last April 20, the overqualified man had applied for employment at a Union 76 garage in
nearby Rodeo. “His summer hours at the refinery are from 8:00 A.M. until 4:00 P.M.-4:30 P.M.,” continued McNamara, “and that’s each weekday.”
“I’d like to interview him during working hours,” Mulanax explained.
“That’s a bit out of the ordinary,” said the personnel chief, “and bound to cause some disruption.” Disruption was exactly what Mulanax had in
mind. “Wel , we can provide my private office for your purposes,” McNamara agreed.
“Good,” said the detective. “Just don’t let on that we intend to interview him prior to his being brought to the office.” Most definitely Mulanax
wanted to surprise Starr and put him off balance. He hung up, noted the appointment on his pad, then dialed Toschi and Armstrong and informed
them of the meeting. Famished after a busy morning, he went to lunch.
Armstrong and Toschi had been busy too. Toschi studied two pages of scribbled notes, munching animal crackers and dunking them in a cup of
Instant Folgers. He had just learned that Starr, though born left-handed, had been compel ed as a child to write with his right hand—a
quiet. The mother was total y the dominant personality. They were always arguing and bantering. He’d real y cuss her up and down, screaming at
her. I know if I had spoken to my parents that way, they would have kil ed me. Starr cal ed her a ‘c—’ and stuff like that. It was awful and this was at
the dinner table.”
Cheney elaborated on this. “Starr’s father was a decorated jet pilot,” he told me. “I don’t know if he got shot down or he had a wreck, but he had
an accident and was injured pretty badly and was medical y discharged. I didn’t know him from the days when he was stil in the Navy. He was stil
active, but apparently had lost some of his fire. He wasn’t the hot jet pilot he had once been. He stil went to work and stil was a draftsman on Mare
Island. He wasn’t bummed up. He could walk al right and al of his functions were normal. He was a nice guy. The family had commissary privileges
and had I.D. cards so they could shop on military bases. The Wing Walker shoes he wore probably came from Mare Island. They were made for
pilots and crewmen.”
From the street Mulanax idled his car and observed the smudged, practical y ground-level window to Starr’s disordered basement apartment,
and tried to imagine what it must be like. He stil yearned to have a peek. Starr’s mother had described her son’s inner sanctum as stacked with
books. Starr was quite the student, “a professional student,” his brother said. “After summer vacation,” Bernice had explained, “he intends to return
to col ege at Cotati for the fal semester.” Mulanax thought back to 1969 and to another summer vacation—tumultuous times, violent times for
Val ejo.
Starr had been a student then too and Zodiac had been at his boldest, grasping Water Town in a grip of fear. With the intimate knowledge of a
Val ejo resident, he capitalized on a citywide police and firemen’s strike. Throughout the walkout there were only two dozen California Highway
Patrolmen to cruise about and enforce traffic laws for a city of 72,000. On July 21, negotiators almost had the strike licked, but Apol o 11 delayed a
settlement meeting when Governor Reagan declared a moon-flight holiday.
So far summer vacation 1971 had been less turbulent, thought Mulanax. Val ejo had a highly efficient law enforcement team in place and Starr
had a job with Union Oil of California to keep him occupied. Returning to headquarters just before lunch, Mulanax rang the Union Oil refinery at
Pinole and spoke with McNamara in Personnel. He confirmed Starr was employed as a junior chemist in their lab, had been since September 8,
1970. But Starr could not have been very happy at Pinole. Last April 20, the overqualified man had applied for employment at a Union 76 garage in
nearby Rodeo. “His summer hours at the refinery are from 8:00 A.M. until 4:00 P.M.-4:30 P.M.,” continued McNamara, “and that’s each weekday.”
“I’d like to interview him during working hours,” Mulanax explained.
“That’s a bit out of the ordinary,” said the personnel chief, “and bound to cause some disruption.” Disruption was exactly what Mulanax had in
mind. “Wel , we can provide my private office for your purposes,” McNamara agreed.
“Good,” said the detective. “Just don’t let on that we intend to interview him prior to his being brought to the office.” Most definitely Mulanax
wanted to surprise Starr and put him off balance. He hung up, noted the appointment on his pad, then dialed Toschi and Armstrong and informed
them of the meeting. Famished after a busy morning, he went to lunch.
Armstrong and Toschi had been busy too. Toschi studied two pages of scribbled notes, munching animal crackers and dunking them in a cup of
Instant Folgers. He had just learned that Starr, though born left-handed, had been compel ed as a child to write with his right hand—a
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