A dishevelled figure staggered towards the camera ready for his mugshot, dragging his voluminous hair and clothing behind him as he walked. A smug grin formed across his face as I positioned him behind the camera and proceeded to turn on the light, resulting in the bright rays to flash him in his eyes and cause them to flicker repeatedly in an eccentric manner. The closer I walked towards him, the stronger the heavy stench of alcohol and marijuana reeked from his lanky body like an open keg of beer left out in a brewery to ferment. His thick greasy facial hair accompanied with the crazed and disturbing expressions he made whilst he snickered at me, however, is what really caught my eye about this peculiar man. From my many years as a detective, I could sense his rapidly deteriorating mental state of mind from the way he presented himself, whether it be the fact he was fixated on the concept of an inevitable and chaotic race war, or his stern white supremacist beliefs, there was undoubtedly something more sinister and malicious he had concealed away from me.
His name was Charles Manson, a 32-year-old male from the eastern side of California often hailed to as the embodiment of pure evil. Despite Manson having had gained quite the notoriety for being an emblem of insanity, macabre and sadism, never once did I suspect him of the heinous crimes he had committed.
To me, he seemed like your average "hippie", long bushy hair with a black turtleneck and an undying passion for the wildly popular band, The Beatles. During my formative years as a recruit I even ran into Manson on several occasions. Manson, who was a struggling musician often busked near Santa Monica boulevard with a relentless ambition in making it 'big' in Hollywood, even having had the famous Beach Boys cover one of his songs in the late 60's. However, this promising career was very short-lived... much like his many innocent victims.
