The Mammoth Book of Celebrity Murders (69 page)

It was not until after 3 p.m. that Carpenter eventually decided to call his best friend’s apartment to see what was going on. Surely a concerned friend would have immediately telephoned to
see if he needed any assistance and to check that he was alright. When he rang Crane’s house it was answered by Victoria Berry, who was still there with the police officers. She handed the
telephone to Ron Dean, a police lieutenant, and he explained to Carpenter that the police were investigating an incident at the property. Again Carpenter’s demeanour was odd – instead
of enquiring about what was going on, he simply offered some brief information about the previous night. He explained that he had called Crane at 1.00 a.m. to inform him that he would be returning
to Los Angeles the following day and that Crane had requested that he shouldn’t be disturbed in the morning as he was tired and wanted to sleep in.

Thirty minutes later Carpenter decided to call back once more; he spoke to Ron Dean and this time answered a few questions, leaving his contact details in case they wanted to talk to him again.
Raising yet more suspicion, for the second time Carpenter saw no reason to ask the officer what it was that had actually happened. Perhaps more surprisingly, given that in theory he was not aware
of Crane’s death, he did not ask to talk to his friend or even enquire if he was OK – very strange behaviour indeed.

The police investigation gradually homed in on Carpenter who had been one of the last people to see Crane alive, had fallen out with him over the issue of girlfriends and had made a strange
combination of telephone calls. With the focus on Carpenter the police began to examine the details of his life during his time with Crane. The first task they carried out was to locate the rental
car which Carpenter had been using whilst with Crane, bringing it in for forensic examination. This revealed a few tiny spots of blood which were discovered on the inside of the passenger door.
Forensic analysis showed the blood type to be the same as Crane’s, which although it raised alarm bells with the police, was not quite sufficient to bring charges as roughly one in ten
Americans would have the same blood type.

The police called Carpenter in for questioning, during which he resolutely denied having fallen out with Crane and was adamant that he had not killed him. The police could only hope that he
would crack through guilt, remorse or stress, but he didn’t and the evidence they had was too weak to sustain a court case. They speculated that Carpenter’s motive was either jealousy
or anger over Crane’s success with women, but could not prove it. Even the reputed argument with Crane proved difficult to establish as all they had was one waitress’s interpretation of
their body language. It wasn’t the full-blown public argument which would have been undeniable, and so, without the evidence to hold him, Carpenter was allowed to leave.

The media had followed the case closely, speculating that Carpenter would be named as the alleged killer. Through the publicity the case had attracted the public expected the same result and
were seemingly disappointed when Carpenter was not indicted. Worse still, the police had no other leads, all other lines of enquiry having produced a blank. The officers themselves felt hollow
inside – they had their suspect within their sights and were convinced that he was guilty, but could not follow it through; it left a bad taste in their mouths and a lasting stain on
Carpenter’s character.

John Carpenter, whether guilty or not, had to live with the stigma of being suspected of killing a very popular comic. He sought comfort from his estranged wife Diane, and the two managed to
patch things up and get back together. They lived together for a further 14 years, and throughout this time Carpenter was never allowed to forget that he was the main suspect in the horrific murder
of Bob Crane.

In June 1992, exactly 14 years since Crane’s death, the police arrested John Carpenter for his friend’s murder. After more than a decade of waiting, the “knock at the
door” finally came, and Carpenter was hauled off to face trial, an unpleasant position to be in, yet he was described as being relieved that the time had finally come for his guilt to be
tested.

Carpenter appointed Gary Fleischman to run his defence, and he also described Carpenter as having had Crane’s murder hanging over him for 14 years. Carpenter and Fleischman prepared their
defence well and were to some extent surprised at the new turn of events which had prompted the police to make the charge. Years after the event the police had revisited the crime, appointing one
of their officers to re-examine the evidence. During analysis of one of the many photographs which had been taken, the officer noticed a small speck on the door panel of Carpenter’s rented
Cordoba car. The speck was shown to a forensic pathologist who believed it to be a piece of brain tissue. The speck was tiny, around one sixteenth of an inch across, but if it was what the
pathologist suspected it to be then it would be sufficient to secure a conviction.

When the trial came to court it was of course the wider picture which the prosecution aimed to exploit – Carpenter’s quick flight out of town, his two calls to the theatre, then one
to Crane’s son and much later one to Crane’s house; and throughout them all, no enquiry as to Crane’s well-being, no questions as to what was happening.

During the trial it was Bob Shutts, the Maricopa County Deputy Attorney who pointed out to the jury that John Carpenter had nothing to gain by killing his friend. Indeed it was because of his
association with Bob Crane that he enjoyed the ability to mix in glamorous circles. It was also thanks to Crane that he was able to enjoy the company of many attractive women. So the real question
was why on earth would he want to put an end to Crane’s life? A life that gave him access to the type of social whirl he could never have achieved on his own. The reality for the defence was
simple, Carpenter had absolutely nothing to gain by Crane’s death, but plenty to lose.

The prosecution team countered by saying that Bob Crane was already growing tired of his “hanger-on” and was making attempts to spend less time with him. It was this, they claimed,
that provoked such a violent attack on Crane – Carpenter was humiliated and dejected by Crane’s imminent withdrawal of his friendship, and in a fit of anger had murdered him. Carpenter
knew full well that Bob Crane did not need his company as much as he had come to rely on Crane’s. The fact that he had been with Crane in the days prior to the murder was brushed under the
carpet – apart from the suspected argument, the two men had enjoyed a busy few days socializing.

The prosecution struggled with their flimsy evidence and resorted to more outrageous means to win the jury’s votes. The photographic evidence of the suspected brain tissue was hotly
disputed and after much debate seemed at best weak, at worst ridiculous. With one piece of photographic evidence dead in the water, the prosecution now sought to win the jury over by playing them
one of Crane’s home-made adult movies. As well as a woman the other guest star was none other than Carpenter himself. The defence put up a spirited fight to have the film show denied, saying
it was nothing more than gratuitous sensationalism. Strangely, the Judge allowed it to be shown and the jury were subjected to ten minutes of animated pornography. When the film ended it proved
nothing other than the two men were friends and that they enjoyed a wide range of sexual activities.

The prosecution’s shock tactics had not worked and after the other photographic evidence failed to deliver conclusive proof, the jury returned a verdict of not guilty. The foreman of the
jury, Marine Sergeant Michel Lake, added that the evidence which inspired the case, namely the photograph of a substance on the door of the rental car, could not be positively identified and
consequently the jury had found Carpenter not guilty.

Carpenter and his wife Diane were jubilant – after 14 years of waiting and being talked about they were now free to leave. On leaving court John Carpenter announced, “My life is back
together again after 16 years,” and with this he returned to his family.

By now the media and the public had cause to wonder why public money had been spent in the pursuit of Carpenter when the case was so weak and flimsy. Why had the police suddenly reopened the
case and started looking through the old evidence? And where was this evidence previously? These and other questions made the case look like a witch-hunt, the pointless showing of Crane’s
home movie a clear attempt to show that, if nothing else, the man in the dock was somehow perverted.

Police files are never fully closed on unsolved murders, yet once again we see the power of celebrity reaching through time and stealing the headlines just one more time. Meanwhile this case
remains unsolved, inactive, but not closed.

In 1902, a flying legend was born; his name, Charles Augustus Lindbergh. As a child Lindbergh longed to become a pilot, spending his free time in overalls, taking machinery
apart, whilst his friends simply hung out and played ball. The mechanically minded Charles had an enquiring mind and yearned to understand how technology worked – his inquisitive nature would
see him flying high in every sense of the word.

His flying days started in April 1922 whilst employed at the Nebraska Aircraft Company. It was here that he took his first flight in a Lincoln Standard, an experience which cemented his lifelong
love of flying. He was soon referred to as “Daredevil Lindbergh” owing to his stunts, including wing-walking and parachute jumping. His daredevil antics earned him enough money to buy
his first aeroplane, a Curtis Jenny, after which it was “the sky’s the limit” for the young Lindbergh. The joys of owning his very own aircraft were, however, short lived –
before he had clocked up many flying hours he crashed the plane after suffering a technical problem, and although he was unhurt, the plane was not, being damaged beyond repair. He now found himself
without a plane or the money to replace it, his flying days seemingly over. Lindbergh though had a flash of inspiration and decided to join the National Guard as an army pilot. He was of course
successful and achieved the rank of Lieutenant, after which he joined the US mail service, flying a De Havilland DH-4 betwen Chicago and St Louis. It was while working for the US mail service that
Lindbergh decided to compete in the New York to Paris non-stop flying competition, a demanding task in those early days and one which would almost certainly end in death if the pilot was unlucky
enough to ditch in the mid-Atlantic.

Lindbergh began to make plans to build a new aeroplane for his epic Atlantic crossing. After making calculations regarding the specification of the aircraft he estimated that he would need
around $13,000, a massive amount in those days and an amount he just did not have. He therefore decided to seek sponsorship from his friends and a number of businessmen from St Louis, as a result
of which the plane was named the “Spirit of St Louis”. Incredibly the plane was built in just 90 days, largely by Lindbergh himself, in the Ryan factory in San Diego. To produce an
aeroplane in such a short time frame was difficult enough, but to produce one to such a high specification, one where every nut and bolt had to be specially made, was a rare feat in itself. Cost
and weight issues were crucial considerations – there were no luxuries on board, the pilot’s seat was made of wicker and there were many pieces of equipment missing which most people
would consider vital – he did not for instance have a radio, a parachute or even a life jacket, three items which would be of paramount importance in the event of a crash at sea. Perhaps even
more surprisingly the aeroplane’s design did not cater for a forward-looking view – most of the time Lindbergh would either fly blind, or use a periscope technique that he had
perfected; or worse, he would risk life and limb leaning out of the cockpit to see ahead.

Many people before Lindbergh had tried and failed, usually at the cost of their lives, but he had an iron will and was determined that he would take the all-important prize money. On 27 May
1927, at 7.52 a.m. Lindbergh took off from New York and after 33½ hours non-stop flying, he arrived in Paris. He had achieved his goal and in doing so had secured his place in the history
books, changing his life forever. Almost immediately he found himself famous the world over, a new celebrity, and with his new-found fame and wealth came a new title, “eligible
bachelor”. At 6ft 3in and extremely handsome, he was the apple of many girls’ eye.

The USS
Memphis
brought the jubilant Charles Lindbergh and the equally famous Spirit of St Louis back to the US. It appeared that everyone in America wanted to see him and congratulate
him; life couldn’t have been any better for Charles Lindbergh. On his return he was paid $200,000 to make a grand tour of all of the 48 US states, keeping him busy until the end of
October.

Lindbergh’s career as a pilot continued with many high-profile positions; he pioneered new flight routes and even took the risky job of flight-testing new aeroplanes, typical of the
adventurous aviator. He initially took the position of Technical Advisor to the President of Pan American Airlines before joining Trans Continental Air Transport as a technical consultant, flying
the coast-to-coast route from New York to Los Angeles, a route which became affectionately known as “The Lindbergh Line”.

Lindbergh’s new status meant he was now mixing with the rich and famous, one high-profile gentleman he met being Dwight Morrow, the American Ambassador to Mexico. It was through this
meeting that he was eventually introduced to his future wife, Morrow’s daughter, Anne, to whom he was quickly attracted. The couple started spending more and more time together until they
eventually married.

The press couldn’t stay away, they were the new “golden couple” and always seemed to be in the news. The press attention came as a great shock to Anne, who had left a rather
dull life living with her parents to be thrust into the limelight; it seemed to her as though she had married the most famous man in the world. She found the attention quite suffocating, convinced
that normal life had been removed from her – she no longer felt safe shopping or meeting friends for meals in restaurants. The only time that she felt totally free was when she and Charles
were flying together, something he taught her to do, and she soon shared his love of flying, eventually the two finding space and freedom on numerous flying expeditions.