“Never tell too much. The monster is always scarier when it is still under the child’s bed”
Stephen King
Recently, I was looking for something to watch on Netflix. It is a habit all too familiar to all of us in these days of the pandemic. I came across a crime documentary, “The Night Stalker”.
These types of true crime stories are common these days. They fascinate because, while repulsed by the crime, you are drawn by the allure of the monster. It’s like when you go to an aquarium and see a large shark. Even though there is a large protective glass barrier that separates you from the monster, you still hesitate. There, only a few inches away, swims the maw of the beast. Standing so close to potential death can be riveting. Escape is easy enough. You can step away from the barrier, look away, close your eyes, or simply not buy a ticket at all.
But, what if you couldn’t? What is you were on the other side of the barrier?
Seeing the documentary made me recall a night almost forty years ago. I still remember it vividly.
It was the evening the Night Stalker came to my home.
“The Night Stalker” is the moniker the press gave to Richard Ramirez. He was a notorious serial killer that operated in Southern, California in 1985. He brutally murdered, raped , and injured dozens of people. What was unique about him was he seemed to fit no pattern. His victims ranged from children to old men. His primary methodology was simple and that was why he was so terrifying.
He came at night and entered through unlocked doors or windows. There was no breaking in to the house. There, in the dead of the night, he simply walked into your home.
Unspeakable violence followed.
Los Angeles is a sprawling city covering hundreds of square miles. It is composed of multiple cities stitched together by the freeway system. The metroplex begins almost two hours on the freeway before you actually reach LA proper. It sits in an enormous basin surrounded by the San Gabriel mountains and bordered by the Pacific ocean. The basin creates a bowl effect that traps the air and creates the infamous smog for which the city is so well known.
In the summer of 1985 Colleen and I were living in Pomona California. I was finishing my first year of medical school. Colleen worked the evening shift as a Newborn ICU nurse. We had been married a little over a year. We were just getting used to living in this enormous city. We moved from Albuquerque, New Mexico, a city 1/20th the size of LA. We were 24 years old.
We lived in a one bedroom gated condominium. It was, for Pomona, in a nicer part of town.
Chris and Stephen were still many years away in the future. We were young, skinny, and I had great hair. Our worries were few.
It was my last “Summer break”. I had been living the academic life for almost 18 years now. Nine months of work with the summers off. We went to movies and out to dinner a lot. There was a restaurant near by called Rillo’s that served a fried cheese ravioli dish that I wept over.
It was unusually hot that summer. The temperature soared to 107 degrees that July. When you live in the inner valley of the Los Angeles labyrinth , heat usually meant bad air quality. We were still getting used to the smog that obscured the nearby San Gabriel mountains from view.
Ronald Regan was starting his second term and still enjoyed wide support The Iran/Contra scandal had not happened yet. The most popular television shows were Cheers and The Cosby Show. Back the The Future was the big hit at the movie theater and Whitney Houstons’ “Saving all my Love for You” played endlessly on the radio.
Even though Ramirez had been active since late 1984, the news didn’t pick up on the story until the middle of the summer. This was the time before the OJ Simpson trial and before the LA fascination with televised car chases that would become so common on the news. There was no internet and people still read the newspaper, When the news of a serial killer broke, the local news covered it non stop. At first, we did not pay much attention to it. “The Hillside Strangler”, another serial killer, had been captured here in LA six years earlier. Colleen and I were just getting out of High School.
LA is very big. The crimes Ramirez committed were all many miles away from us. We were young and felt invulnerable. We simply didn’t go to the dangerous parts of the city. We wouldn’t know where they were anyway.
But that was the thing about this killer. He didn’t hunt on skid row. He went to the suburbs. And he went everywhere. His crimes were all over the valley.
Our condo was gated, locked and on the second floor. We felt secure
Then came Diamond Bar.
Ramirez killed an elderly couple in the town of Diamond Bar, only 4 1/2 miles from our home that August.
Colleen and I became increasingly concerned. Everyone was talking about it now. There had been more than a dozen attacks. These were the days before DNA and the fantasy of CSI shows. This monster from the shadows seemed unstoppable.
We stayed up much later in those days. We were younger and had considerable more energy. Colleen worked the evening shift and would not get home until midnight. I usually waited for her and we would talk briefly before going to sleep in our prized king sized bed. Sleep was easier then. There were less aches and anxieties to keep you awake. I tended to sleep very deeply and would often not hear Colleen get up to go to the bathroom.
The night began like many others. Colleen took her bath and came to bed. The curtains were closed and the room was very dark.
Sometime during the night I heard a noise. I do not remember exactly what the noise was after all these years, but it was enough to wake me. I looked about the room into the darkness. I reached over to feel Colleen.
She was not there.
Then I heard her voice, “Glenn”, she said….
The voice was strained but calm. It was coming from our living room. I still could not see well beyond the door.
In the gloom I heard her again.
“Glenn, there is someone here in the room”
A jolt of electricity coursed through my body. I was instantly awake. I think that may be one of the reasons I remember the night so well. The tidal wave of adrenaline seared the memory to my neurons.
I snapped on the lamp and, in those brief seconds, I remember looking for a weapon at my bedside.
There wasn’t one.
Then, instead of going to my beloved to face the beast I remember yelling loudly in my best “Captain Kirk” voice, “Colleen turn around and come in here right now!”
I felt we could make our stand here in the bedroom. I was frozen by the bed poised to act, but I was not sure what that act would be.
A moment later, Colleen walked back in the room and looked at me briefly. I must have been quite the sight. There I was, a skinny, pale man in my tidy whitey underwear frozen in place with huge eyes. Try to picture a naked Sheldon from the “Big Bang Theory” only much less fierce.
She spoke simply, “I think I was sleep walking”
Colleen used to sleep walk. She eventually grew out of it but would do it occasionally. It was never a problem.
Despite her explanation, We were on the other side of the barrier now. I still could not see into the room where she came from. With Jockey underwear as my only armor I carefully went into the other room. I turned on every light. Colleen is very fond of lamps in decorating. Despite our very small apartment it felt like we had 118 of them. I turned on every one of them.
Every frightening movie I have ever seen was playing at great speed in my adrenaline soaked brain. I looked under every piece of furniture, in every cabinet no matter how small, and behind every curtain. Keep in mind we had a one bedroom apartment, there are few places to hide. I was taking no chances. We were on the other side of the barrier now.
Finally we finally laid back down. Neither of us could sleep for some time.
I remember Colleen asking me if we would turn off the remaining lamp.
“No!” I said firmly. It stayed on for the rest of the night.
Ramirez was finally apprehended a few weeks later. His appearance certainly added to his mythos. He was tall, lean with a lupine feral face. His eyes were intense and dead. His teeth were rotting and he reeked with a foul odor. Stephen King, at the height of his powers could not have created a more perfect nightmare.
He died on June 7, 2013 while still on death row. He was 53 years old. His liver failed due to Hepatitis C and complications of Lymphoma. He was still waiting on his appeal to his death penalty conviction.
Each evening when we go to bed, I go through the same ritual. After turning out the lights and letting the dogs out I sweep thorough all the entrances. I check the locks at least three times. I tap on the barrier and made sure it is firm and we were on the right side of it.
I still like a night light.
I also hope my aged basset hound will not sleep through a potential intruder.
I have my doubts.
Stephen King is a really great writer, and the story that is told here also makes you nervous. It seems to me that it would be cool to make a video on this topic, especially since you can make interesting transitions in your video, as well as work with the sound track, maybe with https://www.movavi.com/learning-portal/final-cut-pro-windows-alternatives.htmlthe help of sound to catch up with the tension. I think thriller fans would appreciate it.