Steve Huff has two interesting posts today about Deborah Perez and her father. Kat thought you might enjoy them, and I agree, so here they are (thanks, Kat!):
Deborah Perez: Making Her Story Fit Her Zodiac Fantasy?
Exclusive: Photos of the Zodiac?
I do have to say it is sad the media gave these two so much attention. I think the story should have been verified for authenticity better than it was. I concur with Steve Huff from True Crime Report.com.
Is Deborah Perez being honest with us when she tells us that she believes that she is the daughter of the Zodiac killer?
Read moreI personally don’t believe her. If you watch the interview of her, with her clownish attorney, Kevin McLean (who has reported been disbarred), you see her smile very inappropriately as she talks throughout this interview.
You can clearly see she that she is trying to repress her smiles, but she is unsuccessful. In the first 35 seconds, before Deborah says anything, she cracks a grin. Why on earth would the daughter of the real killer feel like smiling, especially if, as she claims, he used her to do some of his dirty deeds?
If anything, one who comes to this conclusion would feel shame, embarrassment, pain, agony, disbelief and perhaps, most logically, they would want to escape it–not garner the world’s attention. However, someone who is not emotionally and biologically not connected would not think to feel those things, would they?
The reporter at time marker 8:13 asks, “Did you over all of these years know of the Zodiac killer?” Watch as Deborah responds with a smile, “No. Never.”
Kevin McLean tells us that Deborah believes she wrote the Melvin Belli letter which I found here. It doesn’t take any rocket scientist to see that no seven year old child wrote this. It’s ridiculous.
When Deborah says “There are unique facts about those letters that are not publicly known,” you might think she is struggling here because she is truly distraught, but there are hints that she is about to break into a smile, actually. It’s almost comical. At one point to stop herself, she actually bites her lip so help her gain her composure.
She also has some incredible memories for a seven-year old little girl that I find unbelievable. She says, “I was just a child. I thought I was helping my dad. I didn’t know.” Yet she claims to remember people screaming and seeing blood on her dad, yet he dismissed it as motor oil, and she believed him, but now she knows better? Come on.
If she believed she heard shots as she said, but her dad explained them away as firecrackers, most seven year old children would trust and believe dad, and never give it a second thought. And most adults, 40 years later don’t add up the pieces about something that happened when they were seven and suddenly realize those firecrackers were gunshots. It’s nuts.
McLean says at one point after talking about the fact that Deborah can identify several of the murder victims as people her father knew, “Some other evidence that we want to come up with, that is not speculation in our mind, is certain of the victims of the Zodiac were purposefully targeted…” What?? They want to come up with evidence? That is not speculation in their mind? If they don’t have it now, that means it is not evidence. Are they developing it?
At one point Deborah claims her father said to her after a murder, “‘I need you to not move. Don’t move. The police will not understand if they find this gun.” When people create stories, they often speak as they think and hence the negative word comes later in the sentence, which is highly unusual. Remember when Drew Peterson said about Stacy Peterson, “I think she’s not missing.” Look at Deborah’s sentence “I need you not to move”. Most people would say, “Don’t move!!” That’s what her memory would be, I suspect, if it truly happened.
Deborah also says her father came back from the Stine murder with glasses on that she had never seen before and she believed they were Stine’s glasses. What are the odds that you kill a man, and take his glasses and can wear them–that the prescription would match? Sounds like one-in-a-million to me!
What I find most ironic in this whole interview (which I did not watch in complete) is there is this man with blond hair standing behind and to Deborah’s right side, and he looks remarkably like the sketch of the Zodiac killer. I am sure it is just coincidence, but I can’t help but wonder who he is?
I suspect that nothing will be found to link Deborah Perez and her dad to the Zodiac killer. I suspect she and her friend McLean have been dreaming of becoming famous, and this is their go of it.
* I did not watch this entire video. I stopped somewhere around the 10 minute point.
Carlos Perez-Olivo was featured on Dateline: Murder on a long dark stretch of road. Earlier in the week, I asked you, my readers, to share your thoughts on Carlos.
I heard about this story when it broke in the news back in 2006, but unfortunately, I never got to see Carlos speak prior to or during his trial. I can tell you that the circumstances alone were a huge red flag to me. Here is an attorney who is out of work, who has been disbarred, who was in financial trouble, and he decides to go home on a dark, desolate side road to get cheaper gas late at night. Amazingly, he gets run off the road, and the attacker kills his wife, but forgets to finish him off. You have to admit, the odds are pretty unlikely, especially since he tells us he was the target of threats, not his wife. The attacker also didn’t do anything to conceal his identity either, which is notably odd.
Read moreThat aside, when I saw Carlos Perez-Olivo speak for the first time, I saw a man whose demeanor immediately struck me as inappropriate given the circumstances he tells us that happened the night his wife was murdered. When we recollect memories, especially difficult or painful ones, we feel the emotions again, as we think back. With that, we would expect to see Carlos express fear, panic, terror, worry and show a general sense of vulnerability after being attacked, but it is oddly missing.
Carlos’ details of his account are sparse and lacking detail, too. I would classify Carlos as a negative person.
Here are some of my thoughts when I watched Carlos speak:
Carlos: We wanted to enjoy ourselves while we were young. I think we were both deathly afraid of getting old, and ah, we saw too many people who, ah, became old, and couldn’t…they had money, but then couldn’t really enjoy themselves.
Does this statement make any sense? Notice how Carlos throws in the words “they had money” very oddly? It’s like it came out of no where. How does that even fit in with what he is saying? It’s like he wanted to talk about failing health, but thoughts of money derailed him. Didn’t prosecutors say Carlos had a 900,000 life insurance policy on his wife? Yet Carlos says money wasn’t important? This sentence above clearly hints otherwise…
Carlos: We were going to go in her car but it didn’t have gas. So we went in mine that had a little bit of gas.
The words “a little bit of gas” stand out to me here as very unusual. Most people don’t talk like this. Most people would note that both cars were low on gas, and before embarking on a two-hour drive for the night, they would gas up. Is Carlos trying to set the stage for what happened that night?
Carlos Perez-Olivo: I’m driving, and all of sudden this car kind of cut in front of me. My concern at the moment was not to get into an accident for the obvious reason that i didn’t want the cops coming because I had been drinking.
This car “kind of” cut in front of him? Has that ever happened to you, where a car kind of cut in front of you? Give me a break. It’s the classic hedging, a dead give away, because Carlos is trying to tell us something that should be very definitive yet his words are anything but definitive. His words are hedging, which I suspect are a subconscious leak to what the truth really is.
Carlos Perez-Olivo: I froze. I should have put the car in reverse or I should have tried to hit the car, but I didn’t. And he got into the backseat. I then reacted.
(Dateline) Carlos knew he had been shot. Peggy still looked asleep in the passenger seat upfront.The gunman fled.
Carlos got back in the driver’s seat.
Carlos Perez-Olivo: I turned the car on. I picked up the phone. And I started to drive away, I called 911.
We got shot by the side of the road … I’m going on 133, I’m trying to get to get to northern Westchester.
How did he know “we” were shot, if Dateline’s account of the story is correct? If she still looked asleep and he doesn’t have any memories of his wife being shot, how does he know she was shot here? It’s rather perplexing, isn’t it? It doesn’t add up at all. Dateline could have edited this out, but I tend to doubt it by the other clues I see.
Later to 911, he says, “I can’t stop, I gotta get my wife to the hospital. I think she may be…I think she may be…” Why didn’t he say he thinks she was dead, or murdered? Why doesn’t he say someone tried to kill him? Why are all of these details missing?
Carlos Perez-Olivo: They took me into a room and I remember being upset because i thought they were working on me and not doing anything with her.
Carlos thought he was going to get away with murder, and thought he could beat the system, if you want my opinion, but now that he is in jail, and he is paying the price. Look at him here (thanks CD for sending me this today), after spending time in jail. Suddenly, Carlos is feeling remorse, for no one other than himself!! He should have felt this pain for his wife when he met with Dateline, but it was strangely and eerily missing.
This past week, Dateline NBC ran the story of Carlos and Peggy Perez-Olivo. Carlos tells a story of being run off the road and being shot. His wife was shot in the back of the head, and later died. Police believed Carlos staged the whole incident. A jury convicted him for murder, and sentenced him to 25 years to life in prison.
Carlos’ interview on Dateline was very telling. I was trying to determine if the video footage of him talking was shot during the trial or after, and I suspect it was shot after the trial. If this is the case, we would expect the clues to deceit to diminish because the high stakes of Carlos’ lies dissipated, but in this footage, the clues are quite notable.
What clues to deceit did you see when you watch Carlos speak?
Check back later this week for my thoughts.
November 18, 1995 – April 26, 2009
Charlie’s life was never easy…
Read moreMy Charlie, my Mink-mink, my Shark-a-toothus, my Gussy Mussy, my Mightus Bitus, my King Mutt Mutt, my Snuffleupagus, my Snortus Mortus, you came to us six months old…abused. We suspect you came from a puppy mill and your first owners rejected you. From your actions, we suspected you were caged your entire young life. We first met you at the humane society, and after no one else came along to adopt you, they agreed to let you come to us.
You had a broken tail, which healed imperfectly, and your tongue was split from some horrific injury. Your fur was so matted that you had to be shaved, and the humane society required that you get neutered the day you came to us, which was just more trauma for you to endure. How much could a little creature endure? Our hearts just broke for you.
It was my mission to make things right for you because of all the things other people did wrong. I was going to give you a home, and a life. I was going to give you love, and hope I could change you, but some how time never healed your wounds even after thirteen years. And then when your eyesight went at four years old, it only made things more challenging for you. Your fears intensified and you always feared abandonment no matter what we did, but we continued to love you anyway.
We fenced in a yard so you could have freedom. We bought you a ball that squeaked when it rolled so you could find it by sound, and you learned to love that. Blind and all, you’d chase it down the hill and under the pine tree and when you couldn’t find it, we’d say “There it is” when you were hot, and “No, no!” when you were cold, and with your unrelenting spirit, you always found your ball and played fetch with us. You barreled down that hill with joy many years before your interest slowly faded away. You never let your blindness stop you.
You loved to schnoodle your pig ears every Saturday. You sucked and susseled them until they were mush because your teeth were so crooked, you couldn’t crack them, but you always managed. You let us know you could do anything you set your mind to. That’s for sure! You let it be known you never wanted help as much as we wanted to give it to you. You had incredible pride.
You fought for a place on this earth, and you let your voice be heard. You howled if you felt we left, even when we were nearby. And if we didn’t listen to you, without a thought, you’d grab our foot with a firm hold, and let us know you didn’t approve. At times, you lashed out, and scared us, but we were committed. You weren’t going to chase us off. We loved you, and we were always going to be there for you.
Your favorite food was no doubt salmon: canned, smoked or fresh. You didn’t care. You loved fish, in general, too. All fish–including sushi, sardines and even anchovies! You let it be known to us that you preferred fish to meat any day, which blew us away. You were a fish and veggie dog that’s for sure. When you were young, you took out your aggression on broccoli stalks (remember we called them Rockly-bones?). You loved munching raw carrots (we called them carrote-ies), and cauliflower? You never saw the messes you left behind, but I’d find hundreds of little cauliflower crumbs you failed to sniff out. They always made me sigh, and then smile as I cleaned them up. If you weren’t going to accept anything else, you were going to eat like a king, that’s for sure.
We were amazed when you decided you liked a nice vinegar and oil salad with cucumbers, tomatoes, mushrooms, and even onions. Somehow, though, these last few years, you changed your mind on that. Did you develop a picky palette after all your exposure to good foods? You always gave me peace that I never had to throw anything away because if no one else wanted it, you’d be sure to gobble it up. You even loved shrimp shells — go figure. It was a good and natural source of calcium. And you liked sour pickles, who knew? You also made it very clear you never wanted black olives. Blech!! It was the one food you rejected every single time. In reality, you just loved to eat. It was your one of your biggest pleasures in life, no doubt. And it was my pleasure too, to feed you and watch you happily chomp away.
Charlie, you taught me how to be proud no matter what your obstacle. You always let us know that you could do it. Loosing your eyesight didn’t deter you. You never wanted help. You were very independent and walked on the leash as if you could see. You were always going to do it, whatever it was, no matter what. You didn’t give up when furniture was moved and you hit walls. You got back up and continued on. You played with your ball, throwing it over your back and running around the living room– just seeing shadows and you rarely knocked anything over. You were incredible that way. You were going to have a life, regardless. You persevered. You were strong. You wanted to live.
And yet all these years, we hurt for you. We longed to love you like our other dog. We longed to hold you, and spoil you with affection, but you never were able to handle it. You hated it and weren’t shy to let us know. I never managed to hold you once in thirteen years, and that pains me deeply. I played by your rules, and food was your love of choice, and so I indulged you there.
And then Lulu got sick and required all our attention, and you were pushed to the side. Your voice wasn’t heard and acknowledged as much because her situation seemed much more dire. We both envisioned time with you, and you alone, after Lulu passes. We figured we could spoil you like crazy then. You’d have your day as the only dog, the top dog, but little did we know that you needed us more than she did, and we feel we let you down, when you needed us most.
Oh how I wish I could take time back and make it right, Charlie. You so deserved it. Just know, with all of my heart that I loved you and I tried my very, very best.
You will always be my baby boylie, my sweet Charlie, my baby Binky. My heart aches more than words could ever express.