In the summer of 1969 there was a murder in Hollywood, California in which Sharon Tate, Jay Sebring, Mr. Frokowski, Abigail Folger, Steve Parent, and Mr. and Mrs. La Bianca were stabbed forty-four times.
The newspaper did not know who did the murders, but it read in my mind like a military ambush. It could be no other way. It was described by people later as a military ambush.
And for the reasons as this: These many people were slaughtered; nobody heard a sound; there were dogs on the grounds that didn't say boo; there was a caretaker in a guest cottage who didn't hear one gun go off, and guns went off; they didn't hear any screaming; nobody saw a getaway car; the place was completely destroyed; there was time to put hoods over the people, ropes on their neck, leave signs and symbols that would come down on a particular group of our society—two groups—and split. And no, not a dog was killed or barked. The fellow that lives on the grounds said he slept through it. And they shimmied up the telephone poles, cut the wires, left all this obvious evidence, and split. And the way the wires and the lines were cut I felt that it had to be a military type ambush.