Helter Skelter: The True Story of the Manson Murders

Like the other officers, Burdick found it difficult to believe that Garretson, though admittedly awake all night, heard nothing, while neighbors even farther away heard shots or screams. Garretson insisted, however, that he had neither heard nor seen anything. He was less sure on another point—whether he had gone out into the back yard when he let Altobelli’s dogs out. To Burdick he appeared evasive about this. From the yard, however, he couldn’t see the main house, though he might have heard something.

As far as LAPD was concerned, the moment of truth was now arriving. Burdick began setting up the polygraph, at the same time reading Garretson the list of questions he intended to ask.

This, too, was standard operating procedure, and more than a little psychological. Knowing a certain question was going to be asked, but not when, built tension, accentuating the response. He then began the test.

Q. “Is your true last name Garretson?”

A. “Yes.”

No significant response.

Q. “Concerning Steve, did you cause his death?”

A. “No.”

Facing forward, Garretson couldn’t see Burdick’s face. Burdick kept his voice matter-of-fact as he moved on to the next question, in no way indicating that the steel pens had jerked across the graph.

Q. “You understood the questions?”

A. “Yes.”

Q. “Do you feel responsible for Steve’s death?”

A. “That he even knew me, yes.”

Q. “Huh?”

A. “That he even knew me. I mean he wouldn’t have come up that night, and nothing would have happened in other words to him.”

Burdick relieved the pressure cup on Garretson’s arm, told him to relax, talked to him informally for a while. Then again the pressure, and the questions, only slightly changed this time.

Q. “Is your true last name Garretson?”

A. “Yes.”

Q. “Did you shoot Steve?”

A. “No.”

No significant response.

More test questions, followed by “Do you know who caused Mrs. Polanski’s death?”

A. “No.”

Q. “Did you cause Mrs. Polanski’s death?”

A. “No.”

Still no significant response.

Burdick now accepted Garretson’s explanation, that he felt responsibility for Parent’s death, but had no part in causing it or the other murders. The examination went on for another half hour or so, during which Burdick closed off several avenues of investigation. Garretson was not gay; he had never had sex with any of the victims; he had never sold drugs.

There was no indication that Garretson was lying, but he remained nervous throughout. Burdick asked him why. Garretson explained that when he was being taken to his cell, a policeman had pointed at him, saying, “There’s the guy that killed all those people.”

Q. “I would imagine it would shake you up. But that doesn’t mean you’re lying?”

A. “No, I’m just confused.”

Q. “Why are you confused?”

A. “For one thing, how come I wasn’t murdered?”

Q. “I don’t know.”

Although legally inadmissible as evidence, the police believe in the polygraph.[7] Though uninformed of it at the time, Garretson had passed. “At the conclusion of the examination,” Captain Don Martin, commander, SID, wrote in his official report, “it was the examiner’s opinion that Mr. Garretson was truthful and not criminally involved in the Polanski homicides.”

Unofficially, though Burdick believed Garretson “clean” on participation, he felt he was a little “muddy” on knowledge. It was possible that he had heard something, then, fearful, hidden until dawn. This was just conjecture, however.

For all intents and purposes, with the polygraph William Eston Garretson ceased to be a “good suspect.” Yet that bothersome question remained: Every single human being at 10050 Cielo Drive had been slaughtered save one; why?

Because there was no immediate answer, and certainly in part because, having been the only warm body on the premises, he had seemed such a likely suspect, Garretson was held for another day.

That same Sunday, Jerrold D. Friedman, a UCLA student, contacted the police and informed them that the call Steven Parent made at approximately 11:45 on Friday night had been to him. Parent was going to build a stereo set for Friedman, and he wanted to talk over the details. Friedman had tried to beg off, saying it was late, but finally gave in and told Parent he could drop by for a few minutes. Parent had asked him the time and, when he told him, said he would be there about 12:30.[8] According to Friedman, “he never got there.”

That Sunday, LAPD not only lost their best suspect to date, another promising lead fizzled out. Sharon Tate’s red Ferrari, which the police had thought might have been used as a getaway car, was located in a Beverly Hills garage where Sharon had taken it the previous week for repairs.