Episode 66 | THE MONSTER BEHIND THE MASK: The Golden State Killer

In this episode of Homicide Inc., we're taking a deep dive off the edge of the Golden Age of Serial Killers and submersing ourselves in the story of a monster with many names—the Golden State Killer. This serial rapist and murderer eluded law enforcement for almost half a century, leaving behind a blood-soaked reminder of why we lock our doors at night. His crimes were so grossly diverse and his hunting grounds so expansive that he was initially considered to be three separate offenders: The Visalia Ransacker, East Area Rapist, and Original Night Stalker. This creep was putting in some serious OT to tend to all his sinister vices. Let's take a look at one of America's most notorious serial killers—and how he got caught 44 years later. ★Enjoy!

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Transcript

Case: The Golden State Killer—Joseph James DeAngelo Jr. 
written by Samantha Rowan

Greetings, crime connoisseurs, and welcome to Homicide Inc. I'm your host and guide to the grim, Peter von Gomm. 

Today's episode takes us back in time to the 70s, a groovier time when disco reigned supreme, bowl-cuts were all the rage, and Mr. Rogers' soothing voice lulled Americans into a delicious sense of safety. But this shag-carpeted sanctuary didn't last long. The 70s quickly spiraled into an era of serial slaughter, when murderers and sickos ran rife, and the police promptly fell behind as a predatory epidemic prowled the nation. 

We're taking a deep dive off the edge of the Golden Age of Serial Killers and submersing ourselves in the story of a monster with many names—the Golden State Killer. This serial rapist and murderer eluded law enforcement for almost half a century, leaving behind a blood-soaked reminder of why we lock our doors at night. His crimes were so grossly diverse and his hunting grounds so expansive that he was initially considered to be three separate offenders: The Visalia Ransacker, East Area Rapist, and Original Night Stalker. Let's take a look at one of America's most notorious serial killers—and how he got caught 44 years later. 

Our story starts in June 1972. The world was still California dreamin', and sun-soaked Sacramento, the state's capital, was the embodiment of the American dream. Jobs and new housing developments were aplenty, and the city still hummed with a small-town innocence—an innocence that was soon shattered. Joe, a 26-year-old New York native and decorated Vietnam veteran, had just graduated from California State University with a Bachelor's Degree in Criminal Justice and a hunger for something more. His new chapter in life began alongside a spree of strange occurrences in Rancho Cordova, a city only about 20 minutes away. A criminal called the "Cordova Cat Burglar" was burglarizing houses, committing petty thefts, killing pets, and messing with women's undies. But local police had chalked it up to rebellious teenagers, and Joe already had a job lined up. So, he headed south in 1973. 

He moved to Exeter, California, near the town of Visalia, ready to begin his career as a police officer and eager to make his mark. His first real challenge on the force? The emergence of the elusive "Visalia Ransacker" in 1974. This creature of darkness lurked in the shadows of single-story Visalia homes, stalking his victims before breaking in and ransacking their belongings. He ignored precious possessions, stealing bits and bobs instead and scattering women's underwear around the houses. What a creep! Creepier still, the Visalia Ransacker had the brains to boot. Dishes and bottles were strategically placed against doors or atop handles to avoid being surprised by rightfully pissed homeowners. The moment he heard the sounds of shattering dishware, the Visalia Ransacker disappeared into the dark of night, vaulting over fences and using cleverly mapped out escape routes. What began as a petty problem involving a peeping tom with sticky fingers and an undies fetish, quickly progressed to cold-blooded murder in 1975. This pantie-loving pervert had found his next victim—but this time, he wanted more. 

After a long evening of grading papers at the College of the Sequoias, Professor Claude Snelling turned off the lights of his office and locked the doors. It was February 5th, 1975, and the winter chill lingered enough that his breathe billowed before him as he left campus grounds. He returned to his Visalia home at 10:00 pm to find a prowler peering into his 16-year-old daughter's bedroom window. Disgusted, he chased the shadowy figure, losing him in the darkness. Claude quickly called the police, who found that the trespasser's shoe prints were identical to those left behind at the Visalia Ransacker burglaries. Unnerved by this, the prof went to bed and fell into a restless slumber. Little did he know, this was only the beginning. September soon came, bringing a change of season and—unfortunately—several stories of a prowler from nearby neighbors. Paranoia began to simmer within Claude, threatening to bubble over when he awoke one morning to find his car had been broken into. Elizabeth, his teenage daughter, had heard a noise near her bedroom window that night. When she peeked outside, she saw nothing but shadows. 

The Snelling family was on high alert, but nothing could prepare them for the horror to come the very next night on September 10th. Summer had faded into fall, and the air conditioner was acting up again. Mrs. Snelling left the windows open, welcoming the breeze that cooled everyone as they ate dinner with Elizabeth's boyfriend. He said his goodbyes around 10:00 pm before the rest of the family trickled into their rooms for the night. Just after 2:00 am, Elizabeth suddenly woke up. She couldn't breathe. An immense weight was pinning her to her bed. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she saw the burning eyes of the Visalia Ransacker inches away from her own. His right hand was clamped over her nose and mouth as she struggled beneath his bulk. He threatened to stab her if she screamed. She went still. She didn't know if he had a knife, but she didn't care. He removed his hand, reaching back to reveal a gun. The Visalia Ransacker dragged Elizabeth through her home towards the backdoor, ignoring her attempts to slow him down. No matter how violently she struggled, his grip never faltered.

Claude woke from a deep sleep to the sounds of a commotion happening outside. He jumped up and ran out into their yard—just in time to catch the same prowler who'd been stalking his daughter with her wrapped in his clutches. The man dropped Elizabeth immediately and raised his gun. He fired two deafening shots, hitting her father in the chest as she watched, speechless. The 45-year-old college professor staggered back into the house, leaving a trail of crimson behind him before he dropped to the floor, dead. Elizabeth looked up to face the barrel of a revolver as she heard her mother's devastated screams coming from inside the house. She turned away from what seemed inevitable, surprised when the shooter kicked her squarely in the face and disappeared into the darkness instead. After witnessing her heroic father's murder, Elizabeth Snelling would live in fear for years. And since the Visalia Ransacker had gotten a taste for violence, so would greater Sacramento.

In 1976, the sadistic subject of our story resurfaced in the Eastern District of Sacramento County—his new hunting grounds. The lack of DNA testing, cell phones, neighborhood surveillance, and, in some areas, the 911 emergency call system made the people who lived there ripe for the picking. It was here that the Visalia Ransacker's crimes escalated into horrifying sexual assaults. He devolved from a petty criminal into a serial rapist that the media dubbed the "East Area Rapist"—a sicko thought to be entirely separate.

As he prowled the streets of each sleepy suburbia, he preyed on his usual victims—single women and girls. He stalked them in the shadows, memorizing their routines and planning his attacks in excruciating detail. Soon there were stories of strange break-ins where only personal trinkets were taken. Sadly, what may have seemed trivial at the time were calculated moves with chilling motives. The East Area Rapist was collecting souvenirs and secretly stashing bindings, unloading guns, and unlocking doors or windows to prepare for the coming onslaught. Once night had fallen, he emerged from the darkness, silently entering the homes of sleeping women. His unsuspecting victims would wake up to a blinding flashlight wielded by a masked intruder. Using threats of violence, guns, or large butcher knives, he forced them into submission and tightly bound their hands and feet with the ligatures he'd left behind. They were at his mercy—and this sick son of a b*tch loved every second of it. Then, he sexually assaulted the women repeatedly throughout the night, only taking breaks to help himself to their food. When he'd had his fill of torment and torture, the East Area Rapist would disappear into the night once again. But he was never truly gone. He would continue to taunt his victims through spine-chilling phone calls made weeks, months, and even years later. And yet it was never enough for him. Still, he wanted more. He needed power and control, a depraved puppeteer that played with people instead of things. So, he brazenly moved on to attacking couples.

By this time, word of the East Area Rapist's attacks had spread like wildfire in the wind, leaving a trail of paranoia and terror in its wake. The fear was palpable. People were going to bed with shotguns. Stores were emptied of locks, alarms, and guns. Even common criminals stopped venturing out into the night, afraid of what they might find. But the Sacramento County Sheriff's Department was hot on his heels. 37-year-old Carol Daly was an investigator working the case and the only female detective investigating the attacks at the time. You go, girl! She was pretty and petite, but make no mistake—she was no damsel. Donning a fabulous pantsuit with a matching purse that concealed her police-issued revolver, Daly interviewed victim after victim in pursuit of the man who would become one of America's most infamous predators. She listened to every disturbing detail, taking notes on the trauma inflicted and searching for that ever-elusive piece of evidence that would bring the East Area Rapist down. Young families were being hunted by a masked monster who held them at gunpoint before raping the women while their children watched. Partners and husbands were left lying face down with dishes stacked on their backs, too terrified to move as he threatened to kill everyone in the house if they rattled. Their tormenter reveled in the power he had over them, taunting men to grab shotguns they knew they'd never reach and spending hours in their homes, even pretending to leave before startling and assaulting them again. 

In the spring of 1978, Bob and Gay Hardwick were about to experience the East Area Rapist's cruelty first-hand in their Stockton, California home. In the early morning hours, before the birds had even begun to chirp, the young couple woke to a glaring light. Behind the scorching beam stood a man in the darkness, armed and wearing a ski mask. He pointed the barrel directly at Bob as he commanded Gay to tie him up before he pulled the trigger. Satisfied that Bob couldn't intervene, the East Area Rapist left him on the bed with the infamous stack of dishes piled high on his back as he dragged Gay to the living room, where he bound and blindfolded her. In between repeated assaults and threats of death, he drank their beers, ransacked their refrigerator, and pretended to leave only to return for more. It was almost textbook. These reports took their toll on detective Daly. She didn't know if she could take anymore—but she had to. The East Area Rapist had, unbeknownst to her and the Hardwicks, already progressed to murder after shooting Brian and Katie Maggiore one month earlier while walking their dog in Rancho Cordova. Intoxicated by the murder, he began it crave it. So, after preying on Northern California, he re-emerged in the south in 1979 as a fully-fledged serial killer—the prolific "Original Night Stalker."

Law enforcement had yet to tie the Visalia Ransacker and East Area Rapist together, still considering them to be separate criminals. When the Original Night Stalker began his reign of terror over 300 miles away, the local police force thought the same. His newfound fetish for bloodshed was the inspiration behind his sordid new nickname. It was a reference to American serial killer, serial rapist, kidnapper, child molester, and burglar, Richard Ramirez, the "Night Stalker" of the 80s. He must be so proud. From 1979 to 1986, this seemingly new psychopath stalked the streets of Southern California, committing crimes that mirrored those of the East Area Rapist—but always ended in murder. He attacked couples at random, it seemed, binding and tormenting the men before raping the women and brutally murdering them both. One such unfortunate couple was Charlene and Lyman Smith. After a failed business deal with Lyman's associate, Joe Alsip, the couple had lost a small fortune. But in March 1980, the Smiths' luck was looking up. Or was it? Lyman, a 43-year-old district attorney, was about to be appointed as a Ventura County Superior Court Judge. Charlene, a 33-year-old court clerk, was the happiest she'd been in years as she planned a family trip to take the kids skiing. But that day would never come because the Original Night Stalker had already set his sights on the couple. 

One fateful spring night, the Smiths were sound asleep in their Ventura condo dreaming of the fun to come—dreams that were cut short by a man in a ski mask with perverted desires. He instructed Lyman to lie face down in bed or let his wife feel the consequences of his disobedience. Charlene was forced to tie up her husband, binding his wrists and ankles. Then, it was her turn. The Original Night Stalker bound Charlene's wrists and ankles before raping her while her husband lay helpless beside her. When he was satisfied, he took a brief break to raid their kitchen and ransack their home before finishing what he had started. Terrified and traumatized, Lyman Smith lay bound and nude—an easy kill for this now veteran killer.  H olding a heavy log of firewood, the intruder bludgeoned him to death while his wife watched in horror. He turned to Charlene, watching her as she shook uncontrollably with fear. He picked up the same piece of firewood he used to murder her husband and raised it high above his head before bringing it down onto her face with a force fuelled by misplaced hatred. He savagely beat her, cracking her skull and disfiguring her once beautiful face, until she succumbed to her injuries. With his dark urges satiated for now, the Original Night Stalker covered the couple with their comforter and vanished into the night, leaving a gruesome scene splattered with blood and gray matter behind him. 

News of the horrific double-homicide soon made headlines, sparking a decades-long obsession within 37-year-old deputy-sheriff-turned-private-investigator, Russ Whitmeyer. For the Ventura community, it was appalling. For Whitmeyer, it was personal. He was determined to avenge his fallen friend, Charlene Smith. He saw the brutal crime scene photos and vowed to bring his childhood friend's murderer to justice. But he would not keep his word at the cost of an innocent man's life. When the late Lyman's disgruntled business partner, Alsip, was charged with their murders, Whitmeyer joined the defense as an investigator. His dogged detective work eventually cleared Alsip's name, but that small victory was all he could achieve. No matter how many late nights and early mornings he worked, the Original Night Stalker slipped through his fingers and claimed his next victim.

Just two months later, in May 1968, a realtor entered a home in Irvine, California, ready to spruce it up and show it off. She expected to do a little tidying up before her clients arrived, so she strolled through the house to inspect each room. Nothing could prepare her for the scene she stumbled upon in one of the bedrooms. Sprawled across the bed and naked from the waist down was the beaten, bloodied body of 18-year-old waitress, Janelle Cruz. She had been brutally raped and bludgeoned beyond recognition. Her teeth were obliterated, shattering her once beautiful smile. Tragically, her family was on vacation at the time, only leaving Janelle behind because of her newly landed job at the local pizza joint. She had even invited a friend over the night before she was killed to keep her company. Ominously, while they laughed and chatted on what would be Janelle's last night alive, the two friends heard a noise outside. Startled, they peered out into the darkness but saw nothing suspicious that cloudy night. Moments later, they heard a strange sound coming from the garage. A door closing, perhaps? The friends went to investigate, both feeling uneasy but neither willing to show it. 

Janelle's friend peeked his head into the dark room and saw nothing out of sorts. He gingerly stepped inside, turning on the lights as he did—still, nothing. Not a sound or sign of movement. After flicking the lights off, they headed back to the lounge to pick up where they left off. Lost in conversation, 10:00 pm soon came and went, and Janelle's visitor made his way home. She locked up the house and began getting ready for bed, not knowing she wasn't alone. The Original Night Stalker was already inside her home—watching, waiting. He lurched out of the shadows, catching Janelle by surprise before sexually assaulting her and ending her life in a matter of hours. But something was different. After murdering his 13th known victim, America's newest boogeyman walked out into the dawn of a new day and disappeared one last time. Maybe he grew a conscience. Perhaps he finally satisfied his sick cravings. In my opinion, he realized that the introduction of forensic DNA that year meant his time was up. Whatever the reason, the case of the monster with many names went cold. There were no leads in sight for years—until detective Paul Holes entered the picture.

Holes, a 26-year-old cold case investigator for the Contra Costa County Sheriff's Office, got his hands on the case files of the East Area Rapist in 1994. Astonished that a criminal so prolific and brazen could get away with murder for years—literally—he dedicated himself to solving it. But the first real break in the case wouldn't come until 2001 when DNA testing became law enforcement's go-to tactic for solving old and new crimes. 

Holes realized that this technology might be the saving grace he needed to crack this case wide open. He took a DNA sample from the 1980 autopsy of Charlene Smith and uploaded the East Area Rapist's DNA profile to the FBI's national database. It stored millions of DNA profiles, but there was no match. Surprisingly, this repeat offender had never been convicted of a crime that compelled him to give a DNA sample. Holes had reached what he thought was a dead-end until DNA testing revealed a shocking breakthrough in 2011—the East Area Rapist and Original Night Stalker were one and the same. The media hurriedly dubbed him EAR/ONS, not thinking of the confusion this would cause. Fellow true crime junkie and author, the late Michelle McNamara, quickly caught wind of this wild news. She had been deeply engrossed in the unfolding story long before the world knew his real name and was totally uninspired by the mish-mash of monikers he'd been given. EAR/ONS? Really? McNamara thought a monster of his caliber needed a name that fit the terror he spread across all of California. So, she coined his final nickname, the "Golden State Killer." But the question still remained, who was he? The world would soon find out, thanks to a groundbreaking discovery in 2018.

While K-Pop was stealing hearts worldwide, another trend was spreading across the globe—public genealogy websites. People the world over were using at-home DNA tests to learn about their heritage and trace their family trees through sites like GEDmatch.com and FamilyTreeDNA. Detective Paul Holes immediately saw the potential these services had for cracking cold cases. While others were uploading their own DNA to find long-lost relatives, Holes uploaded the DNA profile of the East Area Rapist to find a match—a decision that would ultimately solve a decades-old case. Using a fake profile on several genealogy websites, Holes and other investigators working the case found a match within a day. But it wasn't the Golden State Killer—it was five of his distant relatives. Their work was far from over. The investigators started digging into the backgrounds of each relative, looking for anything suspicious that could single out a potential suspect. One man, in particular, kept catching their attention. He fit the profile perfectly. This Sacramento local was the right age and height, sporting the same piercing blue eyes and a background in law enforcement that would explain how he eluded police for so long. After tailing him for days and swiping his DNA from a discarded tissue and his car door handle, detectives scoured their database one more time. It was a match. After 44 years of sleepless nights, the Golden State Killer had been found. He was none other than Joseph James DeAngelo Jr., otherwise known as Joe. Name ring a bell? It should. No, not the businessman with bad luck. The decorated Vietnam vet, criminal justice graduate, former police officer, and now serial killer and rapist—Oh, the irony!

Suddenly, everything made sense. The 1972 Cordova Cat Burglar crimes were committed a mere 15 miles from Sacramento, just as DeAngelo graduated from California State University. Coincidentally, they stopped when he joined the force in Exeter in 1973. One year later, the Visalia Ransacker began his reign of petty break-ins just 12 miles away in the nearby town of Visalia—coincidence? Methinks not. Both involved strange burglaries, petty theft, and women's intimates. DeAngelo was also one of the officers investigating the Visalia Ransacker case, making it easy for him to cover up his tracks. In 1976, he abruptly left Exeter to join the City of Auburn Police Department in the Eastern District of California, possibly because of the paranoia that plagued him after killing Professor Claude Snelling—his first known murder victim. He worked as a police officer in Auburn from 1976 until 1979, when he was fired for trying to shoplift a hammer and dog repellent. When you consider that the East Area Rapist committed 44 rapes and two murders in the same time span and area, the motive for stealing those items gets a whole lot darker. If only the police at the time had dug a little deeper before DeAngelo moved on to terrorize Southern California as the Original Night Stalker the same year he was sacked. After seven long years of inflicting pain and taking lives there, he packed up his ski mask for good—we hope—and hid behind the facade of a family man, content that he would never be caught. He didn't know how wrong he was. For the first time in his life, the Golden State Killer would be stalked, sized up, and surprised. 

On the 24th of April 2018, 72-year-old Joseph James DeAngelo Jr. was arrested in his Citrus Heights home, where he lived with his daughter and 15-year-old granddaughter—yikes! After almost half a century of grueling investigations that spanned 11 Californian counties, the Sacramento police arrested one of their own. Initially, he was charged with eight counts of first-degree murder. But the truth behind his body count was only discovered later in court. On the 29th of June 2020, DeAngelo was rolled into the courtroom handcuffed to a wheelchair to, uh, sit before the judge for his hearing in Sacramento, California. His pale, mottled complexion, sagging skin, and clearly exaggerated frailty may have instilled a sense of pity in the naive. But his strong, weathered hands and sunken, beady black eyes gave him away. This was without a doubt the predator that forced Californians to start locking their doors at night—and he admitted it in court, taking a plea deal to avoid the death penalty. DeAngelo pleaded guilty to 13 counts of first-degree murder and 13 counts of kidnapping for robbery. Part of the plea deal required that he admit to the countless other heinous crimes that he couldn't be charged for because of California's statute of limitations—including over 50 rapes he committed as the East Area Rapist. Overall, the monster in a little old man's body surrounded by five strapping policemen admitted to 161 horrific uncharged atrocities. With his sick crimes firmly in the limelight, it was time for his victims to take the stage.

Victim impact statements began on the 18th of August 2020. With no darkness to escape into, it was time for DeAngelo to face the music as he was confronted by rape survivors, their relatives, and the relatives of those he'd slain. One of those survivors was Gay Hardwick, who he'd attacked in the spring of 1978 with her husband, Bob, in Stockton, California. She stood tall and proud, bravely glaring down at her rapist. "What a gut punch it was that I had been brutally raped by a full-time police officer," she told the court. "To learn that DeAngelo, who was sworn to serve and protect, used his skill set to terrorize and rape… That was staggering." "He certainly does deserve to die, in my view, so I am seeing that he is trading the death penalty for death in prison," she continued. After the last of the courageous survivors had had their say, DeAngelo offered a meek apology in return—one that is simply not worth listening to when you consider the scope of the devastation he caused. Just three days later, 74-year-old Joseph James DeAngelo Jr. was sentenced to 11 consecutive counts of life without the possibility of parole, 15 concurrent life sentences, and several more years for additional charges—the maximum penalty allowed by law. Thanks to the tireless investigative work of countless detectives and the fearless survivors who boldly told their stories, the Golden State Killer will die alone in prison, and in the dark.

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