The Killing Game: The True Story of Rodney Alcala

WildBlue Press True Crime Features

THE

KILLING

GAME

The True Story Of Rodney Alcala

ALAN R. WARREN

WildBluePress.com

THE KILLING GAME published by:

WILDBLUE PRESS

P.O. Box 102440

Denver, Colorado 80250

Publisher Disclaimer: Any opinions, statements of fact or fiction, descriptions, dialogue, and citations found in this book were provided by the author, and are solely those of the author. The publisher makes no claim as to their veracity or accuracy, and assumes no liability for the content.

Copyright 2018 by Alan R. Warren

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ISBN 978-1-947290-93-8 Trade Paperback

ISBN 978-1-947290-92-1 eBook

Interior Formatting/Book Cover Design by Elijah Toten

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Table of Contents

INTRODUCTION

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

CHAPTER 13

CHAPTER 14

CHAPTER 15

CHAPTER 16

CHAPTER 17

CHAPTER 18

CHAPTER 19

CHAPTER 20

CHAPTER 21

CHAPTER 22

EPILOGUE

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

SOURCES

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Thanks to the men in my life! Gary, Kevin & Odin, who all help make my life of writing what it is!

COPYRIGHTS

This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. All rights reserved. No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without prior written authorization from Alan R. Warren. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of a copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by fines and federal imprisonment.

This is a work of nonfiction. No names have been changed, no characters invented, no events fabricated.

INTRODUCTION

There have been hundreds of serial killers. While some never achieve the infamy that you might expect, others will become household names, have many books written about them, or even movies produced. I think that Rodney Alcala was one of the more gruesome serial killers to have slipped under that radar, even though he has been convicted of some of the most horrific of rapes and murders. As of 2018, the time of writing this book, he looks to serve the rest of his life in prison for the five murders he has been convicted of, and has been indicted for two other murders as well.

Nobody really knows the true victim count, but it is believed to have been up to 130 rapes and murders, where Alcala had inflicted great torture and acts of cruelty on his victims. Alcala was known to have strangled his victims until they lost consciousness and then would wait until they came to, only to strangle them again. In fact, quite a few times, Alcala would repeat this process several times before he would actually kill them.

Photos of many girls and boys that depict them in sexually explicit poses were later uncovered by detectives. Many of them are still unidentified and there is the possibility that many of them were victims of Alcala.

In 1968, were the times more innocent than they are today? The recent mode in America certainly seems to represent that opinion. The popular opinion is to wish things were like they were in the 60s. I used to believe that and use that statement for myself, as I remembered my past the same way.

In the late summer/early fall of 1968, I was living in a suburb of Vancouver in Canada. I was the baby of the family with two brothers, one of whom I shared my bedroom with, and one sister. My father worked hard and I rarely saw him, as I would be to bed by the time he got home from work. These were the times that seemed so much more structured than today.

It was in that same fall my parents bought their first color television set, with a push button that instantly turned the TV on. This would seem like a small thing in today’s world, but this was very exciting, as we had only ever had a 20-inch black and white television that took several minutes to warm up before you got a picture. It’s funny to think that we only had two television channels back then, and yet it was still a major event. I could finally watch the Batman TV show with Adam West and Hogan’s Heroes in color; something I had only heard about. It was really a hit for my father and older brothers, as they watched hockey and boxing quite regularly, and of course they would have several arguments and I would just go out and play with my dog.

So, it’s not too surprising that September 1968, when this story really begins, was quite a happy time. I was six years old and just starting grade one in school. I look back on it now after researching, realizing that a lot of the victims in this book were the same age or just a few years older than I was.

When I first took on this story, I had absolutely no idea how much carnage that this charming, good-looking man named Rodney Alcala was responsible for. It affected me so much that I changed all the chapter names to the dates and names of the victims. I did this for two reasons. One was to honor the victims by using their names. It is very important to me that true crime writers such as myself should be using and promoting the names of the victims far more than the current concentration on the predators. The second reason was that there were so many victims and in so many various locations, I thought that to keep it in order in your mind as you’re reading, I would list the dates as well.

At the time of publishing, the New York Police Department still has a website dedicated to finding the victims of Rodney Alcala. It contains 215 photos of boys and girls who had their pictures taken by Alcala, and they would like to identify all of them to make sure that they were not victimized as well.

We share the same spaces and pass each other on the stairs, but don’t know what’s behind the eyes of the strangers we see.

It really seemed like a magical time for me and a lot of other children around in the 60s. It was so much easier for our parents to keep us sheltered from the crime and violence that was happening all around the world. I can honestly say that in 1968 when the Boston Strangler movie was the big film out, Martin Luther King Jr. was assassinated, and the Vietnam War was killing many, I was focused on Adam-12, I Dream of Jeanie, and Land of the Giants!

CHAPTER 1

YESTERDAY, WHEN I WAS YOUNG

The difference between humans and wild animals is that humans pray before they commit murder. — Friedrich Durrenmatt

Rodney Alcala, 1967

Rodney Alcala was born Rodrigo (Rodney) Jacques Alcala Buquor in San Antonio, Texas, to Raoul Alcala Buquor and Maria Gutierrez on August 23, 1943, where he lived with his three siblings, parents, and his maternal grandmother. Raoul, born in 1941, was the oldest; Marie Therese, born in 1942, was next; then came Rodney; and then younger sister Maria Christine, who was born in 1947.

They lived in an average middle-class neighborhood in a four-bedroom home near the Alamo and the San Antonio city zoo. Rodney had his own bedroom, and the sisters had to share one bedroom. The kids all attended either public or private Catholic schools in their elementary years, as their religious faith was very important to their mother. Rodney was known as an excellent student. Throughout his school years, he consistently had excellent grades and above-average intelligence. There were never any reports by the school that Alcala ever caused any trouble.

In 1951, his grandmother became ill and the prognosis was not good. After many discussions with the family, it was decided that they all would move back to Mexico, so that she could live out the rest of her life in the home where she was raised, as well as be with her family.

After moving back down to Mexico, the children got to attend regular schools without the religious teachings. The girls really enjoyed it, as they didn’t have to wear a uniform. It was only a couple of years before their grandmother died, and their father then abandoned them in Mexico to move back to the States.

Three years later, his mother moved Rodney, who was about 11 years old at the time, and his siblings to suburban Los Angeles. In 1960, Rodney graduated from high school at the top of his class. He was very popular among the girls at school and always seemed to have dates.

In 1961, he then joined the US Army in North Carolina to become a paratrooper and worked as a clerk, following his brother’s lead, who was at West Point. He was only in the army about one year when his father died suddenly. Even though his father was remarried, the family remained close, and they all attended his funeral service. Rodney returned to North Carolina after the funeral and continued in the service.

About a year later, in 1963, Rodney suddenly turned up at home while his mother was cooking dinner one night. She was shocked and when she asked Rodney what he was doing home, he told her that he had hitchhiked home and gone AWOL. She was frantic and urged him to turn himself in. He had to, he didn’t want to wreck his life and all his hard work to get where he was. A few days later, he went into the local army detachment and turned himself in. He was interviewed by several different officers and eventually sent to an army psychologist, who hospitalized him and told him he needed urgent psychological care. When the hospital checked with Rodney’s superior officers back in Fort Bragg, North Carolina, they learned that in the last few weeks before he went AWOL, Rodney was unable to perform his duties and was suffering from a type of nervous breakdown. Rodney was diagnosed with antisocial personality disorder by a military psychiatrist and discharged on medical grounds.

CHAPTER 2

GOOD SAMARITAN (TALI SHAPIRO; 1968)

We feel free when we escape, even if it be but from the frying pan into the fire. – Eric Hoffer

Tali Shapiro, 1968

Alcala committed his first known crime on September 25, 1968, when a motorist in Los Angeles called police after watching him lure an eight-year-old girl named Tali Shapiro into his Hollywood apartment.

Tali was walking down Sunset Boulevard on her way to her school, Gardner Elementary. Tali was new to this area of West Hollywood, as her home had burned down recently, so Tali and her family were now staying at the famous Chateau Marmont Hotel.

This was one of the most luxurious hotels on the strip, with beautiful large bedrooms with plush carpeting and formal dining rooms. Each suite had large balconies that overlooked the lights and action of Hollywood. The Marmont also offered their guests an outdoor swimming pool, gorgeous gardens, and a grand reception lobby; the perfect setting for all the Hollywood stars.

As far back as the 1930s, everybody from Greta Garbo and Bette Davis to John Wayne and Marilyn Monroe were regular faces at the hotel. Now in the 60s, rock stars started to frequent the hotel as it was known as the place to go for discretion; back then, bad rumors could ruin your career. This was the place that Jim Morrison from The Doors jumped off his suite balcony, and Bonzo from Led Zeppelin drove his motorbike into the lobby of the hotel.

As Rodney Alcala drove down the strip, he noticed eight-year-old Tali skipping down the sidewalk and singing. He slowed his car to a crawl and yelled out to her, Hey, sunshine, do you need a ride?

Tali was startled and almost tripped as she stopped to see who it was that was talking to her. She looked around to see Rodney halfway standing in his convertible car and smiling intently at her. Do you need a ride somewhere? he asked again.

I’m going to school now, Tali said.

That’s okay, I’ll take you there, get in! Alcala exclaimed.

Do you know where I go to school? she asked him.

Why, sure I do; get in, I’ll take you there. Alcala then grinned widely. He knelt over with his right knee on the passenger seat and opened up the passenger side door from inside the car. Tali smiled as well, helped open up the car door, and quickly hopped onto the passenger seat.

As Rodney reached over Tali to close the passenger side door, he could smell some sort of a flower scent on her, and as he closed the door shut, he asked, What is that lovely smell? Tali looked up and her eyes met his. She was confused by the question, as she wasn’t wearing any sort of perfume or anything, so she stuttered, not knowing what to say.

As Alcala took his seat and put the car in drive, he turned and said that she smelled like a lovely flower.

Tali started to sing again as the car drove down the road. It was a short while after that Alcala had pulled into what looked like a hotel or apartment building and parked.

This isn’t my school, Tali said.

Oh, I know that. I need to get something from my apartment first, is that okay? Alcala asked.

I don’t want to be late, she replied. I will get in trouble.

Don’t worry about that. I will come with you into the school and tell your teacher that it was my fault, okay?

Okay.

Rodney got out of his car and shut his car door. Do you want to come with me?

Tali got really quiet, looked down at her feet in the car, and replied, I don’t know.

Oh, come on, I have some candy that you can have, and we will only be a minute.

He grinned again as he walked over to the passenger side of the car, and opened her door. She got out of the car carefully and stood out of the way as he closed the door. Rodney took her hand and walked her up the three flights of stairs, unlocked his apartment door, and walked in the apartment with her.

I was out doing my patrols. We just started our shift that day. I was driving down Sunset Boulevard and I had received a call, Los Angeles Police Officer Chris Camacho recalls of that September morning in 1968.

A beige-colored car with no license plates was following this little girl, says Orange County Deputy District