• Susan Atkins’ Story of 2 Nights of Murder



Susan Atkins’ Story of 2 Nights of Murder

LOS ANGELES, Dec. 14 – One day a little man came in with a guitar and started singing for a group of us in that place where we were living, in Haight-Asbury in San Francisco.

Even before I saw him, while I was still in the kitchen, his voice just hypnotized me — mesmerized me. Then when I saw him, I fell absolutely in love with him. I found out later his name was Charles Manson. But he had other names, too, and so would I.

He gave me nothing but love, complete love, gave me the answers to all the questions I’ve ever had in my mind. This whole world and everybody and everything in it has been God’s game, and that game is just about to come to an end. Judgment Day for every human being on the face of the earth is coming.

But that night I met Charlie in that house on Lime Street, I had no idea I would be there when God’s game ended for Sharon Tate, with me holding her in my arms.

And when it was all over, I didn’t want to go back in that house but something made me go. I went over to Sharon Tate, and I flashed, wow, there’s a living being in there. I wanted to, but I couldn’t bring myself to cut her open and take the baby. I knew it was living, I knew it wouldn’t live…

That night Charlie instructed us to go to Sharon’s, we were still living up at the Spahn Ranch in Chatsworth. We hadn’t moved out to Death Valley yet.

Charlies instructed me and Tex (Charles Watson), a girl by the name of Linda (Kasabian) and Katie — that’s Patricia Krenwinkel.

Well, Charlie instructed us to go to this particular house and gave us a car, a 1958 or ’59 black Chevy, and told us to get two changes of clothes, basically black.

We had been buying black clothes for what we call creepy-crawlies. We’d go around and creepy-crawlie people’s houses. We wouldn’t take anything. Just for the experience of getting the fear and bringing ourselves out of it.

Actually, he instructed us in the details through Tex. He just told me to do everything Tex said to do. Charlie had control over everybody.

I never questioned what Charlie said. I just did it.

And he instructed us to get the clothes and our knives, and such and such, and the four of us got in the car and started going to this place.

Then Tex explained the situation to us, but honestly, I had no knowledge of what was happening until we got there.

Tex told me that he and Charlie had been up to that house before — that’s why they chose the house. Tex told me the house used to belong to Mr. Melcher. That’s Terry Melcher, Doris Day’s son. But he said that Mr. Melcher didn’t live there any more.

But the reason Charlie picked the house was to instill fear into Terry Melcher because Terry had given his word on a few things and never came through with them. So Charlie wanted to put some fear into him, let him know that what Charlie said was the way it is.

I had no idea who lived in the house when we were driving up there not when we got there, and not after it was all over. I don’t guess anyone else did either. Not Charlie, not Tex. No one. Not ’til the next day when it came over TV. When I saw the faces again—it blew my mind.

As we drove, Tex began explaining the setup of the house for us. We had a set of bolt cutters with us and rope, and Tex had a gun. Each one of us had a knife. I’m not sure whether the gun Tex had was Charlie’s or not. All I know is that the gun was used in previous killings and that it was the gun he used to target practice with out on the ranch.

We drove up to the house, turned the car around and parked it between the gate and a neighbor’s house. We got out of the car and got the bolt cutter. Tex climbed up the telephone pole and snipped two wires, hoping that they were telephone wires. I guess they were. The lights in the house stayed on.

Then we got back in the car, drove down the hill and parked the car at the base of the hill, but a little ways up so it wouldn’t look too suspicious, so it would look like it belonged there in the neighborhood.

We walked back up the hill to that metal gate, which was closed. We didn’t touch the gate because we didn’t know if it was electrified or not, whether there was an alarm system that we didn’t want to set off.

We saw a fence up a slope from the roadway, and we decided to try that. Well, we climbed up the hill and there was a place where we could climb over the fence.

So we went over the fence, the four of us. And all of a sudden we saw a light coming out along the driveway inside the grounds.

We knew it was a car. Tex told us to lie down and be still. So we all just did exactly what he said. Just laid down and kept quiet.

And just as the car drove into our sight — I couldn’t actually see what happened — but I heard Tex say:

“Stop. Halt!”

Then Tex had a gun on this young boy (Steven Parent), and I heard the boy say:

“Please, don’t hurt me. I won’t say anything.”

Then the gun went off four times, and Tex came back and said:

“Come on.”

And we proceeded to go, but the young boy who was killed in the car—his death, I felt very had about it when I saw it had happened.

And all of a sudden I found I was at the front door… Well, there’s a window right next to it.

Tex, he lifted up and opened the window, climbed inside and went around and opened the front door.

We had no idea how many people were in the house. When we got into the living room, there was a man (Wojciech “Voityck” Frykowski ) sleeping on the couch. The back of his head was facing me. He had on kind of a “mod” outfit; the pants fitted low.

Tex went up to the couch, and the man woke up, thinking — I guess — that it was a friend of his. He said:

“What time is it?”

And Tex stood in front with the gun and said:

“Don’t move or you’re dead.”

Then Tex motioned for us to come and stand behind the couch. Just Katie and I had gone in. We left Linda outside to listen for sounds. It surprised me that nobody heard the gunshots that killed the young boy. But they weren’t that loud. It was a quiet gun.

And, anyway, Tex told me to go down the hall and check the other rooms.

So I went down the hall and found a bedroom.

I went in, and this girl (Abigail Folger) put down the book she was reading and looked at me. I smiled and waved.

I knew they “turned on,” just looking at the house. They hide it from society, by just looking at them, I knew they used narcotics. I guess she thought I was a friend.

So then I looked in the other bedroom, and saw Sharon Tate and the younger man, the shorter man — Jay Sebring. She was in a see-through shortie nightgown, wearing a kind of halter underneath it.

But they were just talking and didn’t see me.

I came back out to the living room and told Tex:

“There’s three more in there.”

And so he told me to go look for the bathroom and get a towel and tie up the man on the couch. I couldn’t find it at first, but I finally did. It was a big house.

I was shaking so bad I couldn’t tie his hands. But I got the towel around, even though I couldn’t pull it tight.

And he was just — he was just so petrified he just laid down there and didn’t say a word. And he kept asking Tex:

“What do you want? What do you want? Who are you?”

And Tex said:

“I’m the devil. I’m here to do the devil’s business. We want all your money, Where’s your money?”

He said:

“My money’s in the wallet on the desk.”

Tex told me to go over and look at the desk, and I said:

“Tex, it’s not there.”

And then Tex said:

“Go in and get the other people and bring them out here.”

So I took out my knife and I went in and stood by Abigail Folger’s bed, and said: “Go out in the living room. Don’t ask any questions.”

I went into Sharon Tate’s room and told her and the man to go out in the living room.

I guess the three of them went along so easily because they were pretty much terrified by what was going on.

After that everything just got wild. I’m not sure of the order in which it all happened. I can only see it in flashes.

But it seems that Tex tied the three of them — Sebring, Sharon and Miss Folger — together. Wound the rope around and around them, then threw it over a beam so I could pull it tight.

And then, the way it flashes now, it was all panic.

“What’s going on?” Jay Sebring said, and proceeded to advance on Tex. I don’t know how he got loose. And Tex shot him, and he fell on the floor. I think he fell on his side, because I saw him lying on his side.

And then Sharon went through a few “changes,” quite a few “change.” I mean, her facial expressions. Wow!

“Oh, my God, no!” she said. Miss Folger didn’t say anything. She just stood there, just stood there.

The man on the couch — I hadn’t done a very good job of tying him up with that towel I found in the bathroom — he kept working to get it loose.

But Tex said to him again:

“Where’s your money?”

Then Sharon or Abigail, I can’t get a picture of which now, said:

“My money’s in my wallet.”

Tex instructed me to go get it out of her wallet. And I untied her and she led me back to the bedroom, and I told her:

“You get it out.”

She handed me $72 or $73, and said that’s all she had, and asked:

“Do you want my credit cards?”

I said no. Then I proceeded to lead her back into the living room and tied her back up and put the rope back over the beam.

One of the ladies cried:

“What are you going to do with us?”
Tex said:

“You’re all going to die.”

This caused immediate panic. And Tex ordered me to kill the big man on the couch. Well, I went over to him and I raised my knife — and I hesitated.

And, as I hesitated, he reached up and grabbed my hair and started pulling my hair. So I had to fight for my life, as far as I was concerned.

We fell against a chair that was next to the couch. He was fighting and I was kicking him. I was all of a sudden fighting for my life. Wow!

Then I proceeded to stab him five or six times in the leg — but I would say it was in self-defense. I luckily enough had the knife in my hand, because the man was big and with one whack, he could have — wow!

And then while this was going on, Abigail was getting loose and fighting with Katie. And Linda, we found out later, heard some noise and went back down and sat in the car, so we had no watch for the outside.

Well, as this went on, all this confusion, I just don’t remember what happened. Except — I remember seeing the man I had stabbed, trying to go outside. He was yelling — he was yelling for his life.

I was hanging onto him, I think, and I yelled:

“Tex, help me. Do something.”

Then, in the excitement, Tex must have shot him in the back as he was running out, then followed him and hit him over the head with the butt of the gun. It broke the gun handle and the gun wouldn’t work any more. So he began stabbing the man.

While he was stabbing, the man was still screaming. I’m surprised no one heard anything.

The man was pretty much half dead on the porch — that’s where all the blood was, I imagine — before he ever got to the lawn.

Well, Sharon was starting to get loose from the rope, and the Folger girl already had broken loose and was fighting with Katie. I was just standing there watching. There wasn’t much I could do because I couldn’t find my knife.

I couldn’t find it when we left, so I figured that I had lost it in the house, which threw a paranoia into me as we left.

But anyway, I went over and got Sharon and put her in a headlock. She didn’t fight me, I just held her. At times it seemed so easy.

When she began begging me to let her go so she could have her baby, and wow! – I realized she was pregnant. A flash in the midst of all that! Katie was calling for me to help her because Abigail was bigger than Katie, and Katie had long hair which she was pulling.

So I called to Tex to do something.

Tex came back into the house and reached up to stab Folger, and she looked at him and said:

“You’ve got me. I give up.”

But he stabbed her anyway, and she fell to the floor. I think he stabbed her in the stomach because I saw her grab down there.

Then Tex went back outside, because the other man was on the lawn, still running and calling for help, and Tex proceeded to continue killing him.

I still must have had the headlock on Sharon when Tex came back. And he told me it looked like she wanted to sit down.

So I took her over and sat her down on the couch. She said: “All I want to do is have my baby.”

I knew I had to say something to her. before she got hysterical. And while I was talking to her, I knew everything I was saying—I was saying to myself. I wasn’t talking to her, but myself.

“Woman, I have no mercy for you,” I told her, and that was myself talking only to me.

Then the Folger girl started staggering outside, and Tex and Katie went after her. But I’m not sure that Katie went outside, either.

I just stayed there with Sharon. She was so quiet. And Tex came back in and said:

“Kill her.” Just like that he said, “Kill her.”

Then Katie, like an echo, said:

“Kill her.”

I reached to grab hold of Sharon’s arms, but I didn’t want to kill her. I held onto her arms, and said:

“Tex, I can’t kill her. I’ve got her arms. You do it.”

Katie couldn’t kill her either.

So Tex stabbed her—in the heart. And again, and again.

I threw another towel over Sharon’s head. I think it could have fallen over Jay Sebring’s head, too. I didn’t even look—I just threw it.

But Sharon Tate was lying curled up near the couch, and his and her heads probably were close together.

“Get out,” Tex yelled. Just like that.

How long were we in there: Time? Who knows time? Five minutes? Twenty minutes? Time has no meaning. (Police estimate the slayers spent about 25 minutes inside the mansion.)

After Tex yelled, we — Katie and I — went running outside looking for Linda because we couldn’t see her, but we didn’t yell too loud for fear of being heard by neighbors.

When Tex came out, I said:

“Tex, do you have my knife?”

He said no. I asked Katie:

“Do you have my knife?”

She said no, and the paranoia got big, and I tried to shush it by saying to myself: “Linda must have my knife. I think I gave it to her.”

Then Tex ordered me. (She was sometimes known to members of the group as Sadie Glutz.)

“Sadie. Go back and write something on the door.”

I didn’t want to go back into that house. I didn’t want to go back, but something made me.

I got the towel that I had tied the man’s hands with, and I went over to Sharon Tate.

And I flashed, wow, there’s a living being in there. I wanted to, but I couldn’t bring myself to cut her open and take the baby. I knew it was living, I knew it wouldn’t live. . .

And I reached down and turned my head away from her. Then I touched her chest with the towel to get some blood, and I proceeded to go to the door, and the only thing I remember being instructed to write on the door by Tex was “Pig.”

So I proceeded to take my hand and write “Pig” with the towel, and I threw the towel back into the house, and ran outside. I was the last to leave the house.

I ran to the front gate. Tex and Katie already were standing on the other side. Then, the next thing I knew, I was standing there too.

We walked toward the car, but we couldn’t see Linda. We thought she had disappeared. We didn’t know where she was. We called for her. But not too loudly.

Charlie — I guess through Tex — had instructed us to go to the neighbors’ house and do the same thing, what we had done in the place we had just left.

We want to push the button that opens the neighbors’ gate. Tex pushed the button, but I don’t think he used his fingers. I think he used his arm or something. I just can’t tell why we didn’t go through with it. I can’t see it now, can’t flash it into my mind.

But we picked up our clothes which we had stashed by the gate—we knelt down and picked up our second change of clothes. Then we walked down the road to where the car was, walked not too conspicuous.

And when we got to the car, there was Linda in it already, with her second clothes. She had begun to start the car, and Tex told her to get over.

We all got into the car, and there was nothing but just…exhaustion.

And we all had blood on us. So we changed our clothes in the car as we were driving. I was in the right rear seat, and Tex was driving.

We went for a ride to look for a place to dump the bloody black clothes. We drove along a steep embankment. I’ve got a picture in my mind and all it shows me is the side of a mountain and a road. I just sat in the back seat, slumped down. I don’t remember where we were—and I didn’t pay any attention.

Linda had all the weapons — all but my knife — up in the front seat.

We stopped, and Linda got out of the car, I’m sure of that, and threw all the clothes, all drippy with blood, and Tex’s gun and the knives — as far as she could — over the side of the embankment, down a ravine, I guess you’d call it.

We continued to drive until we got down to a residential area — I know it was close to Sunset Boulevard. We flipped down a couple of side streets to look for a dark house, and we found one.

We got out of the car, walked up the street, and we found a big house. We were looking for a place to wash the blood off our hands and faces.

All I remember is that the big house had a lot of shrubbery around it, around the front. We began looking for the water hose, and when we found it we turned it on, went right out into the street and proceeded to wash ourselves off. How about that? Right there in the street.

All this happened spontaneously. We didn’t plan any of it. It was all spontaneous.

Then, all of a sudden, we heard an old man and old woman coming out, out of the house.

“What are you people doing?” they yelled. And they went on like that — blah, blah, blah.

The old woman began screeching: “My houseman belongs to the sheriff’s reserve, and I’m going to have him report this. What are you doing?”

Tex just looked at the old man and old woman. He just looked at them and smiled, and then he said, cool as you please — wow — so cool:

“We’re just getting a drink of water. Sorry we disturbed you.”

The old man said, “Is that your car down the street there?”

“No. We’re walking,” Tex told him. Like cool, man.

“He said real low to us, “Okay, girls, get in the car,” and we double-fast walked to the car.

The old man and woman kept walking behind us, and when we got it, the old woman still was jabbering away.

“Take down their license number.”

But the old man said he didn’t have anything to write it down with.

Tex got in the car and started it, and the man came up and reached in to take the keys, evidently knowing something suspicious was going on.

Tex flooded the motor, but then got it going, put it in low and took off. Practically broke the old man’s hand, from what I could tell.

I just flashed, wow, that was a strange house to pick, out of all the houses — and then we drove down the road and made a couple of turns and stopped at a gas station.

The purpose was — we were almost out of gas.

We bought some gas, and the three of us girls took turns going into the bathroom, checking for blood spots and making sure we were clean. Tex did the same.

But as we drove off and all the way out to the ranch, I noticed there was blood on the car, and I hoped nobody had seen it.

When we got back to the ranch, I went in the kitchen of our hangout (an abandoned Western movie set), and got a rag and proceeded to wipe down the whole car for blood.

I didn’t know where it was, really, but I knew if there was any, like I thought I’d seen, it would be on the steering wheel, and on the door handles as well.

Then Charlie came up and said:

“What are you doing home so early?”

We girls went down to what we call the bunkhouse and went in, and there was Brenda (Nancy Pittman). Pretty soon, along came Charlie and Tex, and we all sat back.

I almost passed out. It was like I wasn’t there. It was like a seance.

I was sitting there, trying to pay attention to what Charlie was saying, and I just couldn’t handle it. I laid back on the floor. And I felt as though I was being killed.

And Charlie and Tex told me that I would be killed if I betrayed their trust. Charlie, he told me many times: “Sadie, you’ve been with me two years now. For a long time. If you ever decide to leave, I’ll take you and hang you upside down, and slit your throat and use you as an example for everybody else.”

But it made no difference to me. Charlie was me, and I was Charlie, and all of us were one at the ranch.

And when we got back from Sharon’s that night, he just acted as though it never happened. Charlie is the type that lives for each second, and pays no mind to what may happen two seconds later. That’s how much he is with it.

So Charlie said nothing about what happened at Sharon’s, and I went in and slept for a while, but first I think I made love with Clem (Gary Tufts). I’m not sure who I made love with—or if I even made love that night.

And when I woke up, it just hit me.

I wanted to go and look at the television news reports because I knew it would be in the news. I went into what I call the trailer, an area located next to the Spahn house, and there was this little TV in there.

I turned on the news and that was the first thing that hit.

I went wild, and, quick-like, ran out and got Katie and told her to come watch television with me, it was on the news. I called Linda in and I called Tex in and I called Clem in, because Clem knew about it—he had been in the bunkhouse when we got back.

Charlie wasn’t awake.

We watched the newscast, and it kind of — it really helped me to know that the people were as important as they were. It blew my mind.

And all of us watching made a few comments, like — well, the Soul (Charlie) really picked a good one this time.

Just happened to have been Sharon Tate, a movie actress, and it happened to have made nationwide and worldwide news, which we had no knowledge that that’s what it would do.

There was a comment made by one of us that what had happened had served its purpose.

That was to instill fear in Man himself. Man, the establishment.

That’s what it was done for. To instill fear — to cause paranoia. To also show the black man how to go about taking over white man.

Then I just put what had happened out of my mind, the best I could. But I couldn’t. I just had nothing but pictures and flashes. It was so vivid I just accepted it, and sat and watched the pictures in my mind.

I tried to appear normal, and did my work on the ranch. But I would look at Katie, and Katie would look at me, and we both knew that was the utmost thing in our minds, that we couldn’t put it out of our minds — it was right there.

And I’d look at Charlie, and he’d wink at me and give me reassurance that everything was okay, was going to be all right. Not that he said it aloud. He didn’t have to say it—I just felt it. That’s the way Charlie was. He didn’t need to speak, he just came on.

Tex seemed his normal self, just as happy and go-lucky as could be. But everybody on the ranch was pretty quiet. Everybody on the ranch — and there might have been 25 or 30 of us, though people came and went—knew by then there had been a killing.

But they didn’t know who had done it.

That night we all got together, smoked some grass and sang some songs.

And then it started all over.

I forget — but I believe that night Charlie told me to get two changes of clothes, and a knife, and we were going to do it again.

Only this time, he said, we were going to do it right, without panic and mess, and he was going to show us how.

He told the others. They sighed, and he said:

“Do you have remorse?”

They said no, knowing that all the time inside they did. And he knew it. I felt remorse, too, and he knew it. Because he knows me inside out.

In fact — he knows what I’m doing right now, as I tell this.

We all got our things together, knives, and I think there were two guns, or one gun, and we got in the car and we just drove around. All over. Linda and Katie, Clem and Tex and Leslie. With Charlie driving. Seven of us.

We went out toward the ocean, then we drove over to Pasadena (Calif.).

Charlie was talking the whole time. I forget what he was telling us. He was just talking, to keep us so we wouldn’t be thinking about what we were doing. To keep our nerve up, to chase out the fear.

Somewhere along the way, we stopped at two houses, One I don’t remember, I was so tired, and, off and on, I slept.

We stopped at this one house. Charlie got out of the car to look in the window, we went around the block and Charlie came back. We picked up Charlie, and he said:

“Man, there were pictures of children in that house. I just couldn’t do that.”

He said there might come a time when he might have to kill some children, but “we mustn’t go in that house in order to save the children.”

And so I accepted that. And we kept driving. I fell asleep. I slept. I was thoroughly exhausted. And when I woke up, we were parked.

I looked around. I recognized the neighborhood as being one where I had taken an acid trip with Charlie and the girls, and some people who lived in a house there, a few months before. I didn’t mention it to Charlie right at that time. But I did later.

Charlie got out of the car and went into a house (the residence of Leno and Rosemary La Bianca) with a gun and we all just sat there very quiet, didn’t make a sound.

Then I dozed off, and after I dozed off, I had a dream. It was so visual, it was actually what was happening in the house.

I could see Charlie tying the man up, and talking to him. Tying the woman up.

Then Charlie came back to the car and I woke up.

He had crept into the house with the gun — that’s what he told me when he came back to the car. And later, he told me, here’s what he related to me, he said he told the man and woman:

“I’m not here to hurt you. Just be calm. It’ll be okay. Just sit down and be still.”

Then he tied them up with pieces of leather he wore around his neck.

Then when he came back to the car, and I woke up, he told Tex, he said:

“Now the last time you blew it. You panicked the people. Don’t panic the people this time. Let them think it’s going to be okay — so they’ll at least go in peace.”

It was Charlie directing the scene right there this time, very coolly. Very coolly. Charlie said the last time Tex had told the people, the people at the Tate house:

“You are going to die.”

And this caused the panic.

“This time,” he said, “it’s going to be okay. Be nice to them. Don’t cause them to panic, to put more fear in them than they already have.

“Let them live in peace to infinity. Let them live in peace to infinity.”

Charlie was directing me and the others.

So he instructed Katie and Leslie, told Katie and Leslie to go into the house with Tex. I hoped he wouldn’t ask me to do it—and he didn’t, because he picked up on those vibrations.

Katie and Tex and Leslie went into the house. Which left Linda, Clem and me and Charlie.

Charlie instructed the three who went in to hitchhike home when they were through. Charlie said he wasn’t going to stay because he was going to take Clem and Linda and me to another house. And we drove off. But we didn’t go to another house. I guess he couldn’t find one that suited him. But, mmmnn, I fell asleep because I was tired.

But before I did, I said:

“Charlie, isn’t that the house we took the acid trip in?”

And he said, “No, it was the house next door.”

We knew the people next door, but we didn’t know if they still were living there or not. And if they were, Charlie would have picked it, to instill a lot of fear in them, because they had just totally blanked out on us — they were people who had given us their word, then backed out on it, like Terry Melcher. But I don’t have any opinion at all, whether he picked it for that reason or because we just happened to pass it.

Anyway, when we drove into the gas station. Linda got out and went into the women’s restroom and left the wallet there. It was the man’s wallet, with credit cards in it, that Charlie had taken from the house after he tied the couple up. We were hoping that a black woman would find it and pick it up and use the credit cards, which would direct the police to black people, so that it would instill more fear into white people. Charlie reacts to black people, digs them, because he spent most of his life in jail, about 20 years.

Then we drove around, just kept driving around, and ended up back at the ranch.

And when the people, the three – Katie, Tex and Leslie – who were left at the La Bianca house got back to the ranch, I got Katie to tell me what had happened. I got Katie to tell me, because Katie and are close. Katie was the only one of the three that said anything to me.

None of the three had a gun, only knives this time. Charlie had had the only gun, and he had long gone.

Katie said when they got into the house, they found the couple tied up, and they took the woman into a bedroom. Katie and Leslie took her into a bedroom, and tied her some more and put her on a bed and put a bag or cloth, or something, over her head.

Then they proceeded to tell her everything was going to be okay, that she wasn’t going to be hurt, it was all going to be all right.

Katie told me she knew she was talking to herself, not to the woman — just like me with Sharon Tate. She was talking to herself through the woman just to reassure herself that every-thing was going to be okay. That all was going to be perfect, was going to be good.

Tex was in the living room with the man.

She said the woman heard her man, her husband being killed.

And she said the woman panicked, started fighting and knocked over a lamp. Fought and screamed:

“What are you doing to my husband? What are you doing to my husband?”

All the time Katie was stabbing her, and Leslie was trying to hold her, and Katie just kept stabbing. I forget how many times Katie said she stabbed her. I don’t even think she knows.

Up to the time she was dead, the woman kept saying:

“What are you doing to my husband?”

And Katie told me that’s what the woman was going to live with, the thought she’s going to carry through infinity. And I said:

“Yes, you’re right there.”

Katie said after they were through they went in and wiped oil all the Fingerprints — at least that’s what she said they did.

Then they wrote helter skelter in the peoples’ blood on the refrigerator: “Death to all pigs” — or something to that effect.

They went in and took showers in the people’s bathroom, changed their clothes, went into the refrigerator and had something to eat. Katie said she saw a fork. I can’t remember whether she said it was a kitchen fork or one of those long forks — a carving fork.

She said she saw it and she flashed, who-eee — that will scare somebody. And she picked up the fork and went over and left the fork in the man’s stomach.

Tex, she said, carved “War” on the man’s chest. When Katie told me that, I flashed and said:

“Wow. Pretty far out.”

I thought it was pretty far out.

Then she said it was almost dawn, and they changed from their black creepy-crawl clothes and creepy-crawled in their change of clothes out of the house and away from it.

They took their creepy-crawl clothes with them, and threw them away in somebody’s garbage can. Not near there, but quite far away.

I think Katie said they walked quite a few blocks, maybe a mile, and then they hitchhiked a ride.

I remember something else now. It’s a flash, a new picture in my head.

Katie said there was a dog there in the house. She said the dog just sat and watched the whole thing.

It couldn’t have been much of a watchdog. The dog came up to them and wagged its tail, and Katie reached down and patted its head before they left.

Katie said she had gotten the impression from the woman before they killed her that she and the man had children who would be coming over to the house the next day. She said they would find their bodies and that would blow their minds.

I never did know the names of the people they killed until a long time later.

I didn’t read about it in the paper. Or watch it on TV the next day, like I had before.

I was tired of listening to the news. All I heard on the news was Tate, Tate, Tate. I just shut it off.

Now, I’m exhausted again. The flashes and the pictures have stopped coming.

I can’t tell about it any more.

Anyway, I haven’t time. My lawyer is coming soon, and he’s bringing me a dish of vanilla ice cream. Vanilla ice cream really blows my mind.


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28 Responses to Susan Atkins’ Story of 2 Nights of Murder

  1. Mr Poirot says:

    Sadie’s story was all most Americans knew about for four years until Helter Skelter came out in 75. For some reason “The Family” by Ed Sanders was never widely known and still isn’t yet Sander’s book came out in 71.

  2. David Kidd says:

    That’s awesome…vanilla ice cream really blows my mind…classic Susan Atkins. I really have a lot of respect for her and how she handled her life while in prison…She became a great human being after all.

    • Detra Smith says:

      Do you really believe she became a great human being or is that sarcasm I hope? Unbelievable and evil and creepy how she just tells it like a 3rd person viewpoint. I cant understand how a person can look at another human being begging for their life and their unborn baby’s life and do what they did. Under the influence of drugs and Manson my ass. They had a choice. They made it and now they are living with it, unfortunately. Bc they should all be dead now. I know we are supposed to forgive if not forget but I just don’t see how in a case like the Tate/La Bianca murders. RIP Sharon, Abigail, Jay, Steven, Frykowski, Leno, Rosemary, Gary and Baby Tate/Polanksi.

  3. TJ says:

    Leave it to California to get rid of the death penalty. Another winner who gets parole hearings in California is the serial killer Edmund Kemper.

    • Sarah says:

      I know this is an old comment, but you make a great point, California disabled the death penalty which cause more prisoners on top of new detainees brought in every day, Which means more money. California has no concern for human life…no, they just want money. While people like Susan Atkins, lived on until a natural death or prison fight killed them. The victims lay in graves,turned to ash while their killers file motions to get better humane treatment and better food for decades. smh…

  4. Tom Warner says:

    Detra, one thing you must understand about the human psyche is that people just want to be loved. Susan Atkins was rejected by everyone in her life. And anyone who did love her, left her. The void she felt could only have been filled by God; in the absence of God, Charles Manson was the next best thing. He made her feel something she had never felt before–acceptance! He controlled every aspect of her being, hence he controlled her actions, and her mind! Yes, she and the others had free will, but their judgment was clouded by their desire to be loved. I cannot speak for Susan Atkins because I am not in her shoes. But I can say with absolute authority that the fear of rejection is more powerful than the need for acceptance. Being led by Manson was easy for Atkins, and others, because it felt safe. Safety is something that everyone desires–no matter how rich, no matter how successful, or no matter how popular, you are. While I agree with you, I also see the other side. And no, she is not a great person–just remorseful. But that is at least step one of the long journey.

  5. Toddd says:

    Go “hug” a tree..
    There are tons of people in the world that want acceptance that don’t murder.

  6. Allen says:

    Wow those are some evil people SMH

  7. Goldie says:

    They will meet their maker one day!! I’m sure that Atkins is in hell !!

  8. Anna soucek says:

    no god, no religion has anything to do with this . This is simply a bunch of loose nutz that needed attention. Doing something that out does the last crazy on the block. My only hope s that people like this never get out, preferrably die.

  9. Joe arnold says:

    She never stopped lying about what happened
    Awful human being

    Claiming religion, hell even really finding religion, doesn’t change anything at all

  10. Neena says:

    Listen you perv if you want to admire her or kiss her ass is your problem but don’t talk what you don’t know. She did nothing great at CIW where she did her time. The monster had more regard for cats than for human lives. There were a lot of cats at CIW. For years she had Manson’s poster in her room. I don’t remember how many times it was torn down..I lived, ate and sleep with the Manson girls for six years of my time at CIW. I walked twice a week with Leslie to AA. Leslie was a computer class aide, Patricia, damn that bitch was ugly, I believe she worked at the industry building.Which was the highest paid job there at the time like fifty cents an hour. Susan Atkins had the nerve to put in for compassionate release, that is not karma that is just justice. COMPASSION RELEASE She was an arrogant monster, a text book murdering narcissus. All she did was go to AA at CIW. Some people tolerated her. Everyone knew who and what she was and too bad there was medication for her pain before she died while the people she helped torture and kill went through hell and that is where she is now. Right where she belong. I don’t know where You got your infor but you don’t know what the hell you are talking about admiring her for how she did her time. The monster died of brain cancer, the proper karma. As for Leslie and Pat, Karma will be visiting them too. Like they told Sharon Tate and her six friends, ” I am the devil and we are here to do the devil’s work. Well the devil is right where he belongs continuing getting his ass kicked like Manson just because in hell. For years those three monsters lived at CIW being supported financially by sick fucks like you, their fans. Mr. you are sad if you believe what you wrote up there. If it would of been your mother, sister or daughter, you would be singing a different tune than the admiring you are doing fool.

  11. Neena says:

    Another idiot who doesn’t know what they are talking about…Needed love??. Look asshole, Susan’s parents supported her until their death visiting thru fucked up sickness and weather as old as they got. And they came on trailer visit when they had them there every three months so please shut the fuck up and write on what you know not what you heard. She had love she was just a monster waiting to come out. Just like there are good people there are monsters in human form

  12. Colleen says:

    Hey Neena.I totally with you and i would really like to chat with you more about the time you spent with those three heartless murderers and share with you about my p.o. wn father’s muder and how it affected my family.if that’s alright with you?are you on Facebook?hope to hear from you.take care.

  13. Reb says:

    Damn, I was 15 when that happened. I’d commit a crime just to kill these whores of the devil. I read the transcripts when taking a criminal law class and they should have been put to death….

  14. Rudy says:

    Néena, you couldn’t have said it any better. Wow. I’m totally with you on this one. You’re my heroine.

  15. Lisa G. says:

    Glad she died a horrible death in the prison she chose when she committed her crime.

    In the immortal words of Susan Atkins “Bitch, I have no mercy for you”…

  16. Emma says:

    Wow .. it’s almost like she thought she sounded “good” when telling that awful story !!

  17. mark says:

    all this makes me so sick to my stomach I cannot believe there are such ruthless people, these are not people but turely evil in flesh, wolves in sheep’s clothes. so sick so sad and unbelievable.

  18. Carol G. says:

    As a recent “INNOCENT” victim of a violent crime, I say good riddance to Atkins and EVERY other brutal scumbag. Rot in in prison and burn in hell.

  19. Edward says:

    There are so many sick people in this world especially some that are rotting in Prison right now,when i was locked up, i saw a group of inmates talking casually about a guy who just stabbed a woman to death. a couple told me how they murdered people during a robbery, when you look at these folks they seem like average joes you see walking down the street, the last thing in your mind would be to think of them as killers. God please help the righteous!

  20. Fred Bloggs says:

    Neena said…

    Another idiot who doesn’t know what they are talking about…Needed love??. Look asshole, Susan’s parents supported her until their death visiting thru fucked up sickness and weather as old as they got.

    You obviously don’t know what you’re talking about. Susan’s Mum died when Susan was 15. It’s well documented. And her Dad left her and her little brother even when their Mum was dead and wanted nothing to do with her once she was arrested.
    You’ve blown your credibility.

  21. Fred Bloggs says:

    David Kidd says:
    That’s awesome…vanilla ice cream really blows my mind…

    She didn’t actually say that.

    Emma says:
    Wow .. it’s almost like she thought she sounded “good” when telling that awful story

    I’d disagree with that, if only because of the context in which Atkins’ words originally came.

    Detra Smith says:
    Unbelievable and evil and creepy how she just tells it like a 3rd person viewpoint

    This account is taken from Atkins’ 1969 interview with her lawyers, Richard Caballero and Paul Caruso and later turned up in a pretty ropey book, “The Killing Of Sharon Tate”, perhaps the first book written on the case.
    However, if you read both the interview with Caballero and her Grand Jury testimony, you’ll see that someone else has written this account using what she said. And being a ghost writer, they’ve attempted to spice it up, with a number of things in their idea of Hippy jargon, that Atkins didn’t actually say, like the ice cream quote. At the very end of the interview it’s actually her lawyer that mentions getting her something to eat including some ice cream. Compare this newspaper story, and the way little things are thrown in, with the actual interview somewhere on this site with Caballero. The way this paper article is done is actually rather irritating.

  22. Trace Sherrill says:

    Tom, you said you couldn’t “speak for Atkins” after you had just typed 4 paragraphs speaking for Atkins. And then continued speaking for Atkins in your final paragraph. These followers like Atkins were evil losers. And anyone like you who feels sympathy for them is an evil loser too.

  23. Buck says:

    White trash. Treated for syphilis four times. Lost all of her teeth by 21.

  24. horekiller says:

    Red and Buck got its’ number!

  25. horekiller says:

    She was an ugly pig from day one.

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