Post by steelbike on Oct 31, 2020 12:18:37 GMT -8
Yes, many thanks to murderinc!
Benita Drive, along with the 7-11 where Carol Daly’s husband’s SED detail botched the EAR stakeout, was within my territory from when I was five until fifteen years old at which time my parents moved us 15 miles south to Elk Grove so hearing about the area stirs memories in my body. I’ve not taken notes but I believe the crimes that murderinc has documented happened in 1979. Circa 1977, I woke up to a man standing over my bed holding a huge knife. I was paralyzed by fear and stared at him dumbly. After a few beats he made a motion with the knife toward me and I either fainted or, more likely, squeezed my eyes shut and resigned myself to my horrible fate. When I opened my eyes he was gone. My dad, a SSD, deputy told me that it was a dream. I, at 9 years old, was left to question my sanity.
Late March 1978 a schoolmate’s home was invaded in the middle of the night and his mother was raped. This happened on the SE corner of Ambassador drive and Van Nuys way. The Sheriff’s department circulated a rumour that the rapist had been an EAR “copycat” — a 19 year old kid who lived at the opposite end of same same block of Van Nuys way on the same side of the street.
Late December, 1978, my home was ransacked and the contents of my piggy bank stolen. I was in the car when my parents pulled into the driveway and the headlights revealed a screen off of a window. I watched my dad with his gun in his hand kick the door open as the burglar (who was still inside) had deployed the chain lock from inside. The story that I’ve always remembered about this incident was that my dad had recounted that the burglar(s) had run done the hall and were fleeing through my bedroom window — the room at the extreme NE corner of the house outside of which was the back yard and beyond that the Rossmor Bar area of the American river. What I had always thought that my dad had said was that he had shot through the wall at the burglar as he escaped through my bedroom window. I don’t remember hearing a gunshot— I was out front in the driveway in a car with the doors closed and the windows up so I’m not sure whether I would have necessarily heard one or not. It’s just that I had always remembered it that my dad had told the story that way.
After this all broke I began bugging my parents on the phone as I started connecting more and more of the strange experiences that I had had with this case and when I got to the bit about my dad having shot at him both of my parents claimed that they had no idea what I was talking about. I was taken aback because I had always remembered it so and I asked how he was so sure that I was mis remembering and he said “because I wouldn’t have done that.”
okay. I was willing to believe that I had embellished the already exciting story to make even more exciting for my friends in my fifth grade class at Riverview elementary school by inventing this bit about my father saying that he had shot through the wall at the fleeing burglar and then remembered it that way but then I remembered that the glass of my window was shattered and that my grandfather had replaced it for a while with 3/4” plywood. I even remember that the plywood was scarfed from a piece that had been painted pink. Then I remembered the second visit from the sheriff’s department and being there while my dad and the visiting officer were at my window and I remember that the deputy digging into a bullet hole in the sheet rock on the window frame with a buck knife. I remember urging him to keep trying to find the bullet because I wanted to see it and him telling me that it was too far in there and that it would be just a smushed bit of lead and not much to look at anyway. I remember that clearly.
Benita Drive, along with the 7-11 where Carol Daly’s husband’s SED detail botched the EAR stakeout, was within my territory from when I was five until fifteen years old at which time my parents moved us 15 miles south to Elk Grove so hearing about the area stirs memories in my body. I’ve not taken notes but I believe the crimes that murderinc has documented happened in 1979. Circa 1977, I woke up to a man standing over my bed holding a huge knife. I was paralyzed by fear and stared at him dumbly. After a few beats he made a motion with the knife toward me and I either fainted or, more likely, squeezed my eyes shut and resigned myself to my horrible fate. When I opened my eyes he was gone. My dad, a SSD, deputy told me that it was a dream. I, at 9 years old, was left to question my sanity.
Late March 1978 a schoolmate’s home was invaded in the middle of the night and his mother was raped. This happened on the SE corner of Ambassador drive and Van Nuys way. The Sheriff’s department circulated a rumour that the rapist had been an EAR “copycat” — a 19 year old kid who lived at the opposite end of same same block of Van Nuys way on the same side of the street.
Late December, 1978, my home was ransacked and the contents of my piggy bank stolen. I was in the car when my parents pulled into the driveway and the headlights revealed a screen off of a window. I watched my dad with his gun in his hand kick the door open as the burglar (who was still inside) had deployed the chain lock from inside. The story that I’ve always remembered about this incident was that my dad had recounted that the burglar(s) had run done the hall and were fleeing through my bedroom window — the room at the extreme NE corner of the house outside of which was the back yard and beyond that the Rossmor Bar area of the American river. What I had always thought that my dad had said was that he had shot through the wall at the burglar as he escaped through my bedroom window. I don’t remember hearing a gunshot— I was out front in the driveway in a car with the doors closed and the windows up so I’m not sure whether I would have necessarily heard one or not. It’s just that I had always remembered it that my dad had told the story that way.
After this all broke I began bugging my parents on the phone as I started connecting more and more of the strange experiences that I had had with this case and when I got to the bit about my dad having shot at him both of my parents claimed that they had no idea what I was talking about. I was taken aback because I had always remembered it so and I asked how he was so sure that I was mis remembering and he said “because I wouldn’t have done that.”
okay. I was willing to believe that I had embellished the already exciting story to make even more exciting for my friends in my fifth grade class at Riverview elementary school by inventing this bit about my father saying that he had shot through the wall at the fleeing burglar and then remembered it that way but then I remembered that the glass of my window was shattered and that my grandfather had replaced it for a while with 3/4” plywood. I even remember that the plywood was scarfed from a piece that had been painted pink. Then I remembered the second visit from the sheriff’s department and being there while my dad and the visiting officer were at my window and I remember that the deputy digging into a bullet hole in the sheet rock on the window frame with a buck knife. I remember urging him to keep trying to find the bullet because I wanted to see it and him telling me that it was too far in there and that it would be just a smushed bit of lead and not much to look at anyway. I remember that clearly.
