Richard Ramirez Quotes

Killing is killing, whether done for duty, profit or fun

I gave up love and happiness a long time ago.

Serial killers do, on a small scale, what governments do on a large one. They are products of our times and these are bloodthirsty times.

We've all got the power to kill in our hands, but most of us are afraid to use it. Those who aren't, control life itself.

With books he could leave his cell and go wherever the story went.

That night she again slept in the back of her brother’s car, hidden under her raincoat, afraid of the rats, of the police, and of men who got their kicks from hurting women. Ruth knew it was a cruel world filled with people who were capable of terrible things.

That first year in L.A., Richard became addicted to cocaine. It was 1978, and coke was the “in” drug, selling for $100 per gram. This was prior to the Colombian cartels applying modern corporate techniques to the importation and distribution of cocaine in the States, which brought the price of a gram down to thirty-five dollars by the mid-eighties.

Mercedes took Richard to the hospital. He was examined perfunctorily and Mercedes was told he was an epileptic and was experiencing grand mal seizures. There was nothing to worry about—he’d “grow out of it.” He was not given any medication, nor was Mercedes asked to bring him back. At home, Ruth began noticing that her baby brother was having long staring spells in which he would just sit still and look at something—a wall, a table, the floor—for five, ten, fifteen minutes without speaking or moving. He was having petite mal seizures, but no one realized it then, and Richard wasn’t diagnosed or treated. Richard had one to two dozen of these petite mal attacks every month until he entered his early teens, when they, as well as the less frequent grand mal seizures, lessened and eventually stopped altogether. According to Dr. Ronald Geshwind, a certain number of people who suffer from temporal lobe epilepsy have altered sexuality and hyper-religious feelings, are hypergraphic (have a compulsion to write), and are excessively aggressive. Van Gogh, Julius Caesar, Napoleon, Dostoevsky, and Lewis Carroll all suffered from temporal lobe epilepsy. Years later, after all the trouble, Richard would be diagnosed as having temporal lobe epilepsy.

Dying doesn't scare me, I'll be in hell. With Satan." – Richard Ramirez

James Edward Garcia spent 3 nights in the hotel after Elisa’s death, bringing with him an EVP recorder. He believes the spirit of Elisa came through to him, while in his hotel bedroom. He asks, “Who killed you?” A voice replies, on the EVP recording, “They did.” In the elevator, the same one Elisa was last seen in, he captures a voice saying; “You better keep out! Keep out!” He says, “The creepy whispering voices sound p…d. They are either warning me – or threatening me.” Down in the lobby, a whispered female voice says, “James” several times. Back in his room, his recording equipment picks up what seems to be many voices; a cacophony of them. A female voice comes through, “Save me, please save me!” A man’s voice says, “She died.” A male voice says, “Yeah, blood.” “Killing” the voice says. The female voice returns, “Please save me,” to which James shouts, “Who are you?” A very deep voice replies, “They killed her,” followed by a higher pitch voice saying, “A demon seed.” One night he also slept in the room serial killer Richard Ramirez called his home while on his killing spree. ‘I returned to the room only to find the TV Remote on the floor with the battery cover off and a Tylenol bottle on its side on the table between the beds. I thought that Hotel Security must have been rummaging through my room. I setup a static camera to film my night. I was not aware that my Night Shot Infrared camera picked up a skull face that had bled through the paint on the wall behind me. You can clearly see it and it is pretty scary. At one point my face seems to have morphed into some type of demon possessed creature while I was asleep. It sounds outrageous but watch the footage and you will see what I’m talking about.” Is the Cecil Hotel imbued with demons who play with those who stay there; who get inside their heads? Newsblaze reporter John Kays asks, ‘Isn’t it logical to postulate that whoever killed Elisa Lam (if that’s what happened) was in the throes of the same evil spirit that Jack Unterweger was possessed with?’ Or the spirit of serial killer Richard Ramirez? He is referring to the two serial killers who called this hotel their home. Perhaps Elisa’s death had been part of a serial killer’s quest; but it could just as easily have been a crime of opportunism, by a random, solitary and as yet uncaptured killer; indeed, an un-sought-after-killer too at this

The news that Richard had been identified as the Night Stalker hit El Paso like an atomic bomb. At 11:15 Friday evening, Joseph and Sofia were

was like being struck by a speeding train.

Julian bought a few bottles of wine and beer. In the car on the way to the house, Julian said, “Why? Why do these things happen to me; what did I do to deserve such a fate, such a thing? I always did my best, didn’t I?

Haven’t I been a good father?” he asked Joseph. “I always

Unlike Jesus, Satan, he felt, would not scorn him, but

Hän uskoi sisimmässään, että mitä hirvittävämpiä ja pahempia hänen hyökkäyksensä olivat, sitä tyytyväisempi saatana olisi ja soisi hänelle tulisen siunauksensa.

Richard wrote back: Dear Sean: Stay in touch and hit ’em again. Richard Ramirez, 666. Penn said Ramirez masturbated excessively. “He was like an animal in heat. He had pictures of his victims on his cell walls. He kept them up with toothpaste.

On August 14, juror Phyllis Singletary didn’t show up. Judge Tynan brought the jury into court and told the jury they couldn’t continue without Ms. Singletary and court was recessed to the following day. In fact the judge had learned that Ms. Singletary had been found murdered.

The detectives later learned that Phyllis had told Melton that she felt sorry for Richard Ramirez because he hadn’t gotten proper representation with the Hernandezes. Melton thought Ramirez was a mad dog that needed killing. An argument ensued, which grew into a senseless murderous rage.

Tynan ruled they would continue with this jury, Richard scowled at the judge and moved about in his chair anxiously, chains rattling. The judge told the jury he was allowing their deliberations go on and read a prepared statement to them, imploring them to put Ms. Singletary’s murder behind them. He reiterated her death had nothing to do with the trial and told them about James Melton, his suicide and the note. At 10:45, the jury recommenced its deliberations.

At 10:50 on September 20, the jury announced they had reached a verdict—a unanimous decision. Daniel Hernandez and Ray Clark were summoned. Richard was brought from the jail. He refused to change into a suit and wore jail blues. The press packed the courtroom. All the networks interrupted broadcasts to announce that a verdict had been reached. At 2:12, everyone was gathered in the packed courtroom. Carrillo and Salerno sat in their usual places. Clark told Judge Tynan that Richard did not want to be present for the verdict. Halpin said he wanted him there. Tynan refused to have Richard chained up to hear the verdict. It wouldn’t be good for the jury to see him that way before the penalty stage. He ruled Richard could hear the verdict from the court holding cell, citing “the Ninth Circuit of California v. Spainer. ”He queried Richard on the record, asking him four times if he relinquished his right to be present during the verdicts, and each time Richard said yes. He signed a waiver and was taken back to the holding cell.

During the course of Sean’s stay in the jail, Ramirez asked Penn for his autograph. Sean wrote: Dear Richard: It’s impossible to be incarcerated and not feel a kinship with your fellow inmates. Well, Richard, I’ve done the impossible. I feel absolutely no kinship with you. Sean Penn

Halpin finished his summation on July 21. The people had presented 139 witnesses and 537 pieces of evidence.

Cynthia Haden learned about the murder from juror Choclate Harris, who called her at her home that evening. Quickly, word of Singletary’s death traveled to all the jurors and alternates; and that night few of them slept well. They were all haunted by the prospect of Richard Ramirez being responsible in some way. They had seen his groupies and the Satanists parading in and out of the courtroom daily for the last fourteen months. Charles Manson had, they all knew, sent people to kill Sharon Tate and her friends and Mr. and Mrs. LaBianca. After all, this was Southern California. Anything was possible.

On the thirty-first, Richard listened, over a loudspeaker in the court holding cell he despised so much, as the hearing to poll the jury took place. Clark reiterated the defense’s position. Yochelson stood for the people, saying Ms. Singletary’s murder had happened two weeks earlier. It made no sense to rehash the tragedy and stir things up—after they apparently had been able to put it behind them. Tynan said he thought letting the defense question the jury about Singletary’s death would be a fatal mistake, and he denied the motion. In his cell, pacing back and forth, Richard cursed the judge and told his jailers the trial was a joke; he spit and he cursed and kicked the bars. Daniel told the court, Richard refused also to attend a second motion to be heard on September 5. The judge said it would be all right, but he would have to sign another waiver. Deputy Warden asked to speak to the judge at a sidebar and told Tynan that Richard was cursing and yelling and had stated he’d fight before he allowed deputies to bring him into court. Tynan announced that for security reasons, the defendant would sign the waiver on September 5. The jury’s deliberations moved on. On September 5, when Ramirez was led into court, he was subdued. Doreen was in her usual place, her eyes riveted to him. There was not an empty seat in the house. Ramirez signed the waiver form and was taken to the holding pen. The defense had decided to seek a mistrial based on several points: one, the death of Singletary, the other, that the juror who had replaced her, Mary Herrera, had two brothers in law enforcement who’d been shot to death, which she had failed to mention on her initial questionnaire. The judge refused to grant a new trial, court was recessed, and the jury continued its deliberations. On September 14, court was convened because of Arturo Hernandez. He had been ordered to call the court daily but had failed to do so on the sixth through the fourteenth. Judge Tynan found him in contempt and issued a body attachment with $5000 bail. On the eighteenth, Arturo showed up in court. Tynan bawled him out for not calling in as he had agreed to. He didn’t want to hear any excuses, he just wanted to know how Arturo pled. The lawyer said he was guilty. Tynan fined him $2400 or twenty-four days in jail. He gave him until September 24 to come up with the money. The judge then had Arturo remanded to do a day in jail for a September 1 contempt charge.

Later that day it was revealed that James C. Melton, age fifty-one, had murdered Ms. Singletary. He was her live-in boyfriend, an abusive man with an explosive temper. Sheriffs detectives who learned about his whereabouts through a phone call he’d made raided a hotel where Melton was holed up. Melton saw them coming, and before the deputies could do anything, he put the gun he’d killed Phyllis with to his head and pulled the trigger, killing himself instantly. The deputies found a note in the hotel room in Melton’s handwriting. In it, he admitted to killing Phyllis—saying he had shot her twice in the chest over “domestic disagreements.

He read each juror’s name: Cynthia Haden, Martha Salcido, Verbe Sutton, Alfredo Carrillo, Arthur Johnson, Lillian Sagron, Felipe Rodriguez, Mary Herrera, Choclate Harris, Arlena Wallace, Don McGee, and Shirley Zelaya.

Some of the groupies who had been visiting Richard in Los Angeles now began to go to San Francisco to see him. Doreen was unhappy with all the competition she had. She’d complain to him that they were taking visiting time away from her, but Richard enjoyed all the female attention. Never before had he had so much female admiration—and he reveled in it, thrived upon it. Cindy, unlike Doreen, didn’t mind Richard’s other visitors, as long as none of them bothered her. But there was one woman Cindy and Doreen came to refer to as “the bimbo,” who did, in fact, start getting aggressive with both Cindy and Doreen. The Bimbo, a heavy-set, well-built belligerent blonde with frizzy hair, and a big nose, began to challenge Cindy and Doreen when she ran into them at the jail. “He’s mine. Stay away from him or I’ll break your face,” she’d say regularly. Cindy stood up to her, telling her to fuck off, but Doreen did not have Cindy’s combative nature and would take the Bimbo’s threats, taunts, and admonitions. The Bimbo began regularly to step on Doreen’s toes and call her “Dogreen.” It got to the point that Doreen began asking the jail guards to walk her to her car, she was so afraid of the Bimbo. Doreen again complained to Richard, but he didn’t stop the Bimbo from coming to the jail. Several of the Ramirez women would bring phallic-shaped vegetables with them on their visits and would sexually excite themselves with the vegetables while Ramirez watched. For many of these women Richard Ramirez was a turn-on.

Cindy Haden wanted to be able to touch Richard, hold him, and be close to him, and she constantly thought of ways she could make that happen. When her employer had a mass layoff and she was fired, she decided she would become a private detective. If she had a detective’s license, she’d be able to work with Richard’s new San Francisco attorneys and have a visit with Richard in a private room. She applied for a job with a San Francisco security firm, was hired, and moved to San Francisco. She took a quiet apartment in Richmond. The security firm sponsored her for a license, and she passed the required examination. She went to one of the San Francisco public defenders representing Richard and talked him into taking her inside the county jail with him when he went to visit Richard. She and the attorney were shown into one of seven rooms allocated for lawyers who come to see inmates. It was ten by ten and had a wooden table and a few chairs. There were panels of glass in a wall so guards could look in. As Cindy waited for Richard to be brought down, her heart raced. She paced back and forth, her hands trembling. When Richard got there, the guard uncuffed him and he sat at the table. They were like two school kids, laughing and giggling. Under the desk she raised her foot and put it on Richard’s thigh; his eyes bulged. He couldn’t believe he was actually sitting with one of the jurors who had handed him a ticket to the death room. After a few minutes, Cindy later related, the attorney went to look for a bathroom. When he left and Cindy was sure there were no guards about, she stood and quickly gave Richard a deep kiss as he groped her with his huge hands. She nearly passed out, she was so excited. When later asked if she was afraid to be alone with Richard, she said, “No, absolutely not. He’d never hurt me.” When the lawyer returned, Cindy sat down, breathless, her heart pounding. On subsequent visits to the jail, as she helped with Richard’s legal problems, she says, she was able to have more contact visits and was actually alone with Richard.

Julian

At this time actor Sean Penn had been sentenced to thirty-two days in the Los Angeles County Jail for punching out a photographer. Because of his celebrity status he had to be kept in protective custody and was lodged in the cell next to Ramirez. At the time he was still married to Madonna and when she came to visit Sean, she saw Ramirez as she stepped off the elevator. When Sean was brought to the visiting booth, the first thing she said to Sean was, “Who’s that good-looking guy?” Sitting down, smiling mischievously, Sean said, “That good-looking guy is the Night Stalker, ... wanna meet him?” “Gives me the goose bumps,” Madonna said—“but yeah, I’d like to meet him,” she joked. “I don’t think so,” he said, laughing

When Clark and Daniel visited Richard in the county jail that day, he said he didn’t want to go forward with the trial and his lawyers should demand a mistrial. There was no way, he insisted, the jurors could not be influenced by the murder of a fellow juror. He pointed out that the case was not about forgery, or a stock swindle; it was about murder, and he was being tried for murder. “There’s no fucking way they won’t be affected against me!” Clark, Daniel, and Salinas agreed wholeheartedly, and they promised Richard they’d prepare a motion for mistrial. Amid a packed courtroom, Clark told the judge that the defense wanted the jury to have a period of at least a week to recuperate. If the judge wasn’t inclined to give them a week, Clark asked that the jurors be polled to see if they could still be impartial. He had been in contact with two psychiatrists, Dr. Jo ’Ellan Dimitrius and Dr. Carlo Webber, and they had both unequivocally advised him it would be wrong and improper to let this jury sit in judgment of a murder defendant without their being polled. He reminded the judge that the jurors had become “as close as siblings, husbands and wives.” Halpin didn’t agree. He didn’t want any delay and polling the jurors would just serve “to stir up their emotions.” Tynan decided to bring out the jury foreman and get his opinion about the capability of the jury to go on with an impartial deliberation. Foreman Rodriguez was summoned and Tynan queried him about the jury’s ability to move forward. Rodriguez, a mustachioed man with very black hair, said, “I feel it is somewhat tranquil, but it is—I feel that we can probably continue today.” “They all seem to be able to carry out their duties, then, as jurors?” asked the judge. “Right. Everyone appears to have it behind them.” “I am delighted to hear that,” Tynan proclaimed, an audible sigh of relief coming from him, and called for the jury to be brought out. He announced he was going to allow the trial to go forward. He looked at the defense table and said, “If there’s any objection from the defense, I’ll hear it now.” Richard leaned forward and said: “I have an objection. I think that is fucked up!” The bailiff closed in. The press, not knowing what Richard would do next, leaned forward. Daniel calmed Richard and told Tynan the defense objected strenuously to the deliberations going on with this jury.

He told his attorneys he didn’t want to put on any kind of defense for the penalty phase. Clark warned him that would be foolish, a mistake. If he wanted the jury not to give him the death sentence, they needed mitigating circumstances, something they could hang their hats on not to vote for death. He suggested Richard’s father, saying he was a good, hardworking man and he could very well stir up some sympathy among the jurors. Clark insisted if the defense didn’t present something for the jury on Richard’s behalf, they would surely sentence him to die: “You are as good as dead, Richard.” Richard said he didn’t want to put his father through that—beg for his life, grovel in front of Tynan, Halpin, Salerno, Carrillo, and the rest of the detectives. He wouldn’t stand for that. He insisted he didn’t want anyone in his family put on the stand. “They’ll kill you,” Clark repeated. “Richie, they’ll execute you, for sure,” Daniel put in. “Well, then let them. Fuck them. Dying doesn’t scare me. I’ll be in hell. With Satan. That’s gotta be a better place than this. I’d rather die than live in a cage. Fuck that shit, man,” he said, and laughed, then sat back, suddenly serious-faced. “Please, Richard—” Clark began, but was cut off. “We aren’t begging. Period,” Richard said, and that was that.

On the day of sentencing, the defense announced they would not be putting any witnesses on the stand on the defendant’s behalf, calling it “a tactical decision.” Richard would not be taking the stand, either. Tynan asked Richard if he was waiving his right to put on a defense and to speak on his behalf. Ramirez said yes.

As they entered, Richard glowered at them. Cynthia Haden couldn’t look him in the eyes. She felt guilty about having convicted him. She thought the Hernandezes were so woefully inadequate that Richard hadn’t gotten a fair shake. “He was sold down the river,” she would later say, and would make correcting that “injustice” her life’s work.

In February 1990, Ramirez was moved to the San Francisco County Jail, where he had access to a phone and a television and interacted with other inmates. Almost immediately, he got into a fight over the phones and beat up some guy who’d called him a punk. Richard knew he couldn’t let anyone abuse him in any way, for the abuse would surely get worse and more than likely end up as an assault against him. He was quick to let everyone in the jail know if you bothered him, you’d better be ready to fight to the end. This resulted in his being left alone and he could do his time without being bothered.

When Cindy left Richard that day, she felt truly alive for the first time. As she flew back to Los Angeles, she thought about moving to San Francisco so she could be closer to Richard; for the first time she realized why she had left her husband and Portland, Oregon: she felt that being with Richard, as near to him as possible, “was my destiny.

In August of 1993, Frank Salerno, the famous bulldog of Sheriffs Homicide, retired from police work for good.

In early 1995, when Richard was coming back to San Quentin from court appearances on the Pan matter in San Francisco, the prison’s metal detector went off. The guards searched him thoroughly and couldn’t find any contraband, yet the metal detector still sounded when they passed him through it again. Officials put him in front of an X-ray machine and discovered he had a handcuff key and a hypodermic needle in a little vial hidden in his anal cavity, a very common practice in jails around the world known as “keister-ing.

Thursday, June 27th of 1996, Richard Ramirez was moved out of the adjustment center to San Quentin’s East block, “Death Row,” where he would be allowed regular “contact visits” with his family and friends—the first since he’d been arrested.

According to the California Penal Code, prisoners have the legal right to marry. The prison approved Richard’s marriage, and his and Doreen’s names were added to the list of ten inmates marrying that day, three from death row. It was quickly pointed out to a curious journalist by San Quentin’s public relations department that prisoners on death row do not have the right to conjugal visits.

Ramirez: Yes. Serial killers and most killers in general have a dead conscience. Carlo: When you say a dead conscience that means they don’t respond— Ramirez: No morals, no scruples, no conscience. They are ... uh ... they sometimes ... some of them don’t even care if they live or die themselves and they are just the walking dead.

Perez had a girlfriend in Tijuana who needed a gun for protection, and he had asked Richard if he knew where he could get one. Richard sold him a .22 for fifty dollars on credit. Perez in turn gave the gun to his friend.

Halpin moved back to the gun, intent on putting it in Richard’s hands. The prosecutor had Perez tell the jury about his two trips down to Tijuana to get the .22 from his friend. Perez said he learned of Richard’s arrest over the radio just as he and Sheriff’s Homicide men were crossing the border into Mexico. He testified he got the gun, gave it to the homicide detectives, and returned to L.A. with them.

The judge then read the verdict sheets, announced they were in order, and gave them to Clerk Josephine Williams to be read out loud. Beginning with the Vincow charge, the jury voted guilty on every one of the forty-six counts.

As Cynthia Haden was leaving, Phil Halpin asked to speak with her up in his office for a minute. She followed him and Alan Yochelson up to the district attorney’s floor. Halpin thanked her for the verdict and asked her not to talk with the defense if they approached her. She said she wouldn’t and left, a bit bewildered about why they had apparently spoken only to her. When she got home, she called a few of the other jurors and they said they’d not been approached by the prosecutors.

In El Paso, Mercedes, Julian, and the rest of the Ramirez clan went to church and prayed Richard wouldn’t be given the death sentence. In her prayers to Mary, Mercedes explained it was a big, Satan-inspired mistake, that her son could not have done the things they said he’d done, that Satan’s hand was at work here. She implored Mary to speak to her son and tell him the truth.

Richard was taken to San Quentin ten days after he’d been sentenced. The authorities viewed him as a security risk: they knew he had many female admirers, and they knew about the Satanists who had regularly visited the trial, and there were always rumors that someone was going to try and break him out. For security reasons it was decided it would be better if he was flown to Quentin rather than driven.

Death, as such, held no fear for Richard. More than ever he believed in his heart that he would go to Hell and sit at the right hand of Satan. He believed all the hardest criminals throughout history would be there and he’d get to know them. Jack the Ripper, Al Capone, John Dillinger, Ted Bundy, Adolf Hitler, and all the others sent to Hell for their deeds. Heaven and Hell were as real to Richard as the helicopter now taking him to San Quentin.

Richard was handed over to heavily armed, grim-faced San Quentin officials. He was put in the A/C block, known as Reception. His prison number was E37101. All prisoners—except death row inmates—were kept in Reception while they were evaluated and it was decided where they would do their actual time. Richard still had the Pan assault and murder charges against him, and until that case had been adjudicated, he would not be moved to E block after his obligatory three-month stay in Reception. He would, after evaluation, be transferred to the San Francisco County Jail, to be closer to court for hearings and motions on the Pan matter. Lawyers from the San Francisco public defender’s office would be representing Richard in the Pan incident. Richard was put in another six-by-eight-foot cell with an aluminum toilet, a sink, and a bunk bed. Prisoners in reception did not have access to phones, and their visits were for only two hours a week. In E block, the inmates were allowed twenty-four hours a week for visits, and Reception inmates were kept in the cell nearly twenty-four hours a day. Richard was assigned cell number 3AC8.

When she got home, Cindy wrote Richard a long letter, saying how sorry she was about the death sentence, and tried to explain that she, and the jury as a whole, had had no legal alternative but to vote for death. She mailed the letter and anxiously waited for a response, which took only four days. Richard wrote her back and said he understood, that she shouldn’t feel bad about anything, not to beat herself up, and asked her to write him some more and maybe even come and visit. Cindy was thrilled when she got his letter and immediately wrote him back.

Cindy Haden continued visiting Richard every chance she got. She’d come mostly on weekends, when Doreen was visiting, too. The two women began seeing each other at the jail. Doreen felt Cindy was a “low-down, hypocritical bitch” who could have hung the jury. Whenever Doreen saw Cindy at the jail, she would narrow her eyes and regard her with utter disdain. When Doreen asked Richard why the hell he would allow that Benedict Arnold to visit, he said she was a juror and might be of help if he chose to appeal his conviction. After a few months of Cindy driving all the way to San Francisco every weekend, she began thinking she would move north permanently so she could be close to Richard. She was in love with him and had pictures of him in frames on her night table and on the wall opposite her bed. Cindy had told her parents about her relationship with Richard and had actually brought her mom and dad to the jail so they could meet him. When Richard first sat across from them in the visiting booth, Cindy said, “Mom, Dad, this is Richard,” as Richard smiled shyly. “I know you’ve heard some bad things about him, but he’s got a lot of good points, too.” Richard sheepishly said hello, waved, and began talking to Cindy’s father, who, like his father, had worked for a railroad. They had “something in common,” as Cindy later put it. Cindy agreed to do several national talk shows—“Donahue” once and “Geraldo” twice—and told the world, in a very passionate voice, that Richard Ramirez had had improper counsel and his convictions should be overturned.

When recently asked if she believes Richard is innocent, Doreen said, “I’ve always fervently believed in his innocence! I can’t even conceive of his being guilty of the terrible things they say he did. He received an unfair trial with very inadequate legal representation. Someday the truth will be known.

Julian was diagnosed with bone cancer in the spring of 1991. The cancer spread quickly and he died of it on August 16 of that year.

Robert still lives in Morenci, Arizona, working in its mines. He is divorced now and sees his two daughters on weekends. When he can, he drives to El Paso to see his mother and his siblings. He has stopped using drugs and avoids trouble at all costs.

Richard had taken the Bimbo off his visiting list and had told Doreen that if he was moved to East block he would marry her. Since the first time she’d seen Richard on TV being taken away from the angry mob on Hubbard Street, she had wanted to marry him, to fight his battles, to be known as Mrs. Richard Ramirez.

Marriages on death row occur every four months, and Richard promised her he would tell the prison to put him down for it. The next time they’d be able to wed, he said, was October 3rd.

The ceremony took place at 11 A.M. Mr. L. Weister, a civil servant would perform the ceremony. He was a tall robust man with a big, healthy red face and thick gray hair. Doreen was very nervous. Richard wanted to get the whole thing over with and get back to his cell. An author and one of Richard’s attorneys joined the wedding party. In front of an Alpine mural one of the inmates had painted, the ceremony took place. It was short and sweet—they did not say “until death do us part.” They exchanged vows, wedding rings, and it was over in two minutes. Richard gave Doreen a peck on the lips.

Carlo: The phenomenon of serial killers—is it a sexual thing, too, Richard? Is sex part of the crimes? Ramirez: Sex? For some serial killers, sure. For some it is the very act of killing another human being that is ... that ... uh ... that is sexual to them. It’s a bloodlust, I guess you can say.

Ramirez: There is no protection against a mass murderer, if you will. A mass murderer will come onto the scene—whether it be a post office, supermarket, restaurant—and open fire. Unless the bullets miss you, you will become a statistic. A serial killer, if he’s looking for certain type of women, certain type of victims, and you happen to match his preference ... it is possible that you could get away. You could even help in apprehending him, but it is said serial killers are very intelligent, otherwise they would not— Carlo: They would not be able to commit crimes over a long period of time. Ramirez: Exactly. What constitutes a serial killer right now is four murders or more, according to the FBI. Four murders is not that many but that’s what categorizes a serial killer. I suppose to avoid being a victim is— Carlo:—Being aware of the environment, being aware what’s around you? Ramirez:—Taking precautions, locking your doors, having your keys ready when you open doors ... being on guard. Carlo: Your keys ready when? Ramirez: When you open doors. Carlo: Look over your shoulder? Ramirez: Yes. Of course, one cannot live one’s life like that in today’s society, always aware. Especially if you haven’t already been the victim of a crime. When you are the victim of a crime, a violent crime such as an assault or mugging, then throughout your life that will be at the back of your mind. Those types of people are more aware than those who have never been a victim of any type of crime. But, sure, a serial killer takes opportunities, in the victims being in the right place at the right time. He takes advantage of that.

Carlo: Give you a sense of well-being. Do you think young children, young teenagers, actually, should be kept away from music like that? Ramirez: No, because I believe that a person that ... a person that is destined or inclined to be evil will be evil with or without music. Music I don’t believe has a part in anything. Carlo: Even young, impressionable minds? Ramirez: Yes, yes ... because I believe that it is the environment that will determine who a child will grow up to be.

Publisher's Note Richard Ramirez died on June 7, 2013 from complications related to lymphoma. He was 53 years old and had been on death row for 23 years.

No one in the audience was surprised. Doreen stood and, crying, hurried from the courtroom. Judge Tynan, at the defense’s request, polled the jury, and each one said he’d heard the verdicts read out loud and agreed with them. It was over. The judge thanked them and said they would now be moving to the penalty phase. He asked them to step into the jury room. Judge Tynan asked the defense how long they would need to prepare for the penalty phase. Clark said three days. Daniel asked for at least two weeks, saying they were bringing people in from out of town. Tynan told Daniel he should have already lined up any witnesses and gave the defense one week to prepare. The jury was now brought out and told the penalty phase would take place on the twenty-ninth. The judge reminded them not to talk with anyone in the media. He offered them the use of the back elevator to avoid the waiting reporters and cameras.

On the day of sentencing, the defense announced they would not be putting any witnesses on the stand on the defendant’s behalf, calling it “a tactical decision.” Richard would not be taking the stand, either.

Richard said he wouldn’t talk about anything but the convictions. Carrillo asked if it would be all right if they taped what he said. He said no. They then began asking him about the crimes and how he did them. Richard gave them, the detectives later said—which Richard vehemently denies—the details of how he worked, lived, and avoided capture for so long. The detectives say he told them he capered in stolen cars, which he sometimes left in the parking lot of the Greyhound Bus Terminal. He always stashed any weapon he had in the terminal lockers until he realized the car might be staked out. At that point he began driving the cars around the block a few times before he retrieved his weapons. According to the detectives, they began talking about the actual murders, beginning with Vincow. Richard told them what he knew. They weren’t sure if he was bragging and making things up, but he seemed sincere, they thought. For the next week, as Richard ate sweets, he told the two detectives the details of what he said had taken place. Both detectives enjoyed talking to him. “He had a likable side to him that was easy to warm to,” Carrillo later said. Their meetings were brought to a halt on November 16, when Richard was taken to San Quentin. The last time Salerno and Carrillo saw him, he asked them if they were going to come to his execution. Carrillo said he wasn’t sure... didn’t think so. “You bet I’m coming,” Salerno said, dead serious, looking Richard right in the eye.

Cindy Haden was having a hard time keeping Richard Ramirez off her mind. He was all she could think of—his intense black eyes, his wavy black hair, his absolute and undeniable arrogance and danger. She dreamt of him nearly every night, often wondering if he had put some kind of spell on her. She would later say, “The truth of the matter is, I think I fell in love with him the first time I saw him. I know it’s nuts and everything, but I couldn’t help it; it was just one of those things.

Cousin Mike, the person most people believe put Richard on the path he traveled, died of a massive heart attack in April of 1995. He was overweight and still haunted by the ghosts of things he’d done in Vietnam, regularly using heroin. The Army gave Mike a hero’s burial with a twenty-one-gun salute.

Gere Russell, out of San Diego, is Richard’s appeals lawyer.

When Richard was asked recently how to avoid becoming the victim of a serial murderer, he said, “You can’t. Once they are focused on you, have you where you are vulnerable, you’re all theirs. Dahmer used to invite you home for a drink, and the next thing you knew, he’s eating you. Same thing with John Gacy: he’d put on his clown face, do a couple of tricks, and suddenly he had you handcuffed and in his control. What people can do is not trust someone you don’t know and to always be aware of what’s going on around you. When you drop your guard—that’s when a serial killer moves.

She drove to San Francisco for them and picked out two simple wedding bands, hers gold and Richard’s platinum. When later asked why Richard told Doreen not to buy a gold ring for him, he said, “Because Satanists don’t wear gold.

Carlo: Yeah. You were seen in court once with a Pentagram inside your hand and you held it up and showed it to the press and the audience. Why did you do that? Did you feel that it would protect you, or were you just making a statement that you were in alliance with the Devil? Ramirez: Yes, it was a statement that I was in alliance with ... the evil that is inherent in human nature. And ... that was who I was.

Carlo: Do you feel that evil can be reincarnated? Ramirez: I hope so. [laughs]

Carrillo asked him about his belief in Satan and Richard readily admitted that he followed the ways of Satan, walked the left-hand path, and wholly believed in the existence of Satan and his omnipotence over all things in this world and the spirit world. “It’s he who really rules,” said Richard. Gil turned the conversation back to El Paso, where Richard said he’d been brought up a Catholic, and told Gil his mother took him to church all the time.

For the last few years Richard had been mailing Ruth costume jewelry, which he’d told her he’d bought from some fence. Ruth kept it all in a box in the garage. Despite the accusations that her brother was a thief, it had never occurred to her that the jewelry might be stolen and she should hide it.

A representative from the public defender’s office assigned to Richard’s case went to see him Sunday evening. Alan Adashek was a tall, thin man with a long face, black hair, and thick wire-rimmed glasses. This case would be the biggest one he had ever tried, and he didn’t want to make any mistakes, knowing everything he did would be scrutinized and reported in the press. Adashek was a careful man who liked to be in control. This would put him on an inevitable collision course with Ramirez.

When Adashek first spoke to Richard at the jail, Richard was despondent, humble, and shy. He said he didn’t think he’d ever get a fair trial, that everyone already felt he was guilty, and he wanted to plead guilty to get it all over as fast as he could. Adashek advised him not to plead guilty and to fight the case. Richard said he’d think about it and was then taken back to his cell.

Richard, for the first time, realized that to people like him, people of the night, he was a hero; he was somebody. He liked that. For his whole life he’d been a tall, lanky nobody, just another angry-eyed hungry face in a hungry crowd, but now people stopped—people paid attention, stared, and pointed. He vowed next time he was in court he’d show a different side to the world. He figured no matter what he did they were going to convict him and kill him, so he decided to take control.

Halpin introduced photographs of a jail cell Richard had stayed in, where he’d drawn pentagrams and “666” in his blood on the floor. Deputy sheriff Neulhad had been on suicide watch for Richard when he was first booked into the county jail’s hospital wing, on the day of his arrest. He stated he saw Richard sitting on the toilet bowl with some blood in his hand, and that he noted the 666 and the pentagram on the ground. “I watched him with his left hand take blood from his right palm and write the numbers and that five-pointed star directly on the floor in front of him.” He testified he then advised his supervisor of this, and photographs were taken of Richard’s artistic statements. There was no cross.

When court resumed, Clark told the judge Richard had changed his mind and was now thinking about putting on a “limited defense,” but he wanted to speak with Dr. Dimitrius. Reluctantly, Tynan agreed to give the defense until morning to decide what direction they were going to take.

Jury selection finally began on July 21, 1988, from a pool of 1600 citizens. The Hernandezes were looking for Hispanics and certain minorities; they felt that with a jury of all whites and Asians, Richard wouldn’t have a chance. They believed Hispanics and blacks would have a more open mind.

The juror selection was a slow, tedious process. It bored Richard, and he soon began falling asleep. He’d stay up late at night reading and would be tired for court. Judge Tynan didn’t like his sleeping and warned him to stay awake. Richard took to wearing large black Porsche-type sunglasses, also bought by Doreen, so he could close his eyes behind them.

Toward the end of July, Richard reportedly told a sheriffs deputy that he was going to have one of his girls sneak a gun into the courtroom and he was going to shoot Halpin to death, then people in the audience, then himself. Security was already tight, but the bailiffs took Ramirez’s alleged threat seriously, set up metal detectors, and searched everyone coming into the courtroom.

Daniel Hernandez told Judge Tynan that Richard didn’t want to attend the jury selection; Tynan said that he had to, whether he wanted to or not.

Jury selection took six months, longer than most had anticipated. On January 10, 1989, a jury and twelve alternates were sworn in, comprised of six Hispanics and six blacks, seven females and five males. The Hernandezes felt it was a victory for the defense.

Midway through the jury selection, juror expert Jo ’Ellan Dimitrius was brought in to help the defense. She had a long, thin face, intense dark eyes, and bouffant platinum hair. Richard often conferred with her.

For most of the jury selection, Arturo Hernandez had stopped coming to court. Daniel had hired a paralegal named Richard Salinas, who had wavy black hair, a pointed hatchet face, and dark eyes. Daniel would often confer with Salinas on important issues. Arturo had apparently become disillusioned with defending Richard. There was no big movie or book deal, and the case was costing him money. A television movie about the Night Stalker was in the works, but the Hernandezes hadn’t gotten a dime. As long as Richard refused to talk about his alleged crimes, nobody was willing to put up money. Daniel did his best, but the arduous task of being in court every day, staying in hotels away from his family in San Jose, and working without the benefit of co-counsel was taking its toll. He was tired, yet couldn’t sleep at night; he’d toss and turn and worry about the case, his two little girls, and his wife. He began eating excessively, and by the time the jury was finally sworn in, he’d gained twenty-five pounds.

Richard took to putting crime-scene photographs on the walls of his cell, using soap and toothpaste as glue. He’d gotten the photographs, which were part of the discovery, from Daniel Hernandez.

Whatever Richard wanted, Doreen secured for him. He was the boss in their relationship. She made sure Richard had money in his commissary account at the jail and sent him books and magazines, writing paper and stamps.

Richard wanted to write a letter to Ted Bundy, on Florida’s death row, and he asked Doreen to get Bundy’s prison number and address. He had, he said, some things he wanted to ask Ted about.

Melvin Belli arrived at the jail on September 19. He met Adashek and Ruth, who had traveled on the bus all night to be there, and they went into the jail together. Belli knew he didn’t have the time to represent Ramirez if his case proceeded to trial, but he thought it was a very important, interesting case, and he viewed Richard as a unique phenomenon, if all they were saying about him was true. He only knew what he’d read in the papers, and it was enough to pique his professional interest.

The following day, Melvin Belli told Ruth he couldn’t, in any capacity, work on the case, citing money and time as the main obstacles. “If,” he told the L.A. Daily News, “I were to represent him, I’d want a thorough, thorough mental examination of him before I would consider going into the case; that would cost lots of money, and the family just can’t afford it.” Richard was not surprised by Belli’s position.

Oxnard attorney Joseph Gallegos had heard that Ramirez was looking for new counsel. Gallegos had recently represented on murder charges a Mexican gang member who had been convicted and sentenced to twenty-seven years.

After Melvin Belli turned down Ramirez, Alan Adashek went to the jail. He’d accepted the fact that Richard did not want him and told him about Gallegos’s offer. Richard liked the idea of a Mexican criminal attorney; with a Mexican, he felt, he’d get a fair shake, and that’s all he said he was looking for. He again complained about his headaches and told Adashek that no matter what, he was pleading guilty on the twenty-seventh, and he didn’t want to be paraded into court every day like some circus freak in a nonsensical trial in which he had no chance. Adashek tried to convince him to wait at least until his new attorney was on board, and he explained to him why Belli could not represent him.

Back at his office, knowing he could now never be Richard’s lawyer, Adashek phoned Gallegos and asked him to visit Richard at the jail. To keep Richard from calling the press, Adashek phoned Judge Soper and asked her if she’d bar Richard from having access to the phone and telling reporters that he was guilty. Such a story would virtually destroy Richard’s chances at trial if his new counsel decided to litigate the case. Judge Soper took his request under advisement.

The weekend of September 28, Manny Barraza came up to Los Angeles with an agreement by which Richard would assign all the rights of his story to his sister Ruth. The district attorney’s office repeatedly said it would not allow Ramirez to use funds from any sales of his story; such money, they said, would go to the victims. Nevertheless, Richard signed the agreement.

Richard told Gallegos he was intent upon pleading guilty to all of the crimes except the abduction-molestation charges. He knew, he said, he’d probably get the death sentence, but that didn’t matter. He didn’t want to go through with any long, drawn-out trial that he’d lose in the end because of all the negative publicity against him. He didn’t want his father to suffer the disgrace of all the details that would surely come out during a protracted trial.

If, he said, Richard wanted to plead guilty, so be it. However, he pointed out to Richard that an insanity plea might be the way to go. Richard didn’t like that idea and shot it right down; he was not, he said, insane. He was different, and he followed the dictates of his own mind and desires, rather than a hypocritically dogmatic society’s, he said.

Richard said he’d already assigned the rights of his story to Ruth, but he would sign them over to Gallegos in payment. That was agreeable to the lawyer; he knew the huge media attention would inevitably spark book and movie interest, and he agreed to accept the yet-to-be-made deals as payment.

Gallegos told Richard he’d been arrested in 1975 for shooting a hooker over a blow job payment, and the press might bring it up. Richard said that didn’t matter, that it was bullshit.

Shortly after Gallegos left the jail, Ruth arrived with Arturo and Daniel Hernandez. They knew Richard had been talking to Gallegos and were intent upon not letting Gallegos represent him. They had decided that they and they alone would be his lawyers. They viewed handling the case as the turning point in their professional lives. They would be famous, legal celebrities whose opinion would be eagerly sought. They both knew the case would take up a lot of their time, but in the end it would be well worth it.