The Night Stalker: Las Vegas 1981

Las Vegas, 1981

Las Vegas was truly a city of fly-by-nights and weirdos. The weather was warm and the booze was free as long as you gambled at the nickel slots. It attracted the bums and the thieves. Prostitution was rampant on Fremont Street. My friends and I heard about the Friday night excursions down Fremont Street where the kids would pitch pennies at the prostitutes. We wouldn't do this. My friends were good, solid Mormon girls who frowned on this. Instead, I went to the Mormon dances and kept out of trouble.

Married women went to Vegas to get a quick divorce, then stayed with their kids. Children were everywhere. All ages. Mothers were working in the casinos 24 hours a day. Housekeepers, bartenders, dealers, waitresses, dancers and show-girls put the bread and butter on the table. Kids were wandering the streets. Ditching school to go to Lake Mead. Bonfire parties in the desert at night. Frequented the all-night arcades. California surfer culture inundated Vegas. Levis with the Skoal ring faded into the pocket. Vans were checkered. OP T-shirts and prairie skirts. Levis were bought pre-shrunk. We washed them ten times in hot water, put them on wet and let the desert air dry them to your shape. The perfect fit. Pot-smoking every morning before school. Sunglasses all day in school. Think Fast Times at Ridgemont High in the desert.

Our apartment complex was new and was situated on the highly-travelled Valley View Blvd. Cashman Junior High School, a strange building designed by a circle-freak who was obviously stoned, was a two mile walk from my apartment. I would get lost in the circular maze of the building. There were no windows in the school. A strange feeling of claustrophobia after the chaos that was the city and the other-worldliness that was the desert.

Las Vegas in 1981 was a strange and wonderful town. Not the sprawling mass of gargantuan casinos and developments that it is today. The old casinos reigned supreme. The cowboy culture was alive and well. The mafia was still running the town. In 1981, there were what we affectionately called "desert lots" everywhere. The lot that I cut through on my way to school was typical of these undeveloped properties. Paths were made between large desert sand dunes. Debris was strewn around. Cacti and other desert brush emerged from the sand. And above was the cloudless sky. The constant beauty of the dry heat.

In Ireland, I often walked for miles through fields and bogs. Being alone in nature was not a stranger for me. I yearned for the freedom and independence that I knew in my former country. I had a certain comfort-level for this desert lot.

In November of 1980, I looked across the landscape and saw a black cloud of smoke billowing up into the air. I stopped and stared into the distance. I heard fire engines and police cars. Later that day, I heard that the MGM Grand Hotel had a large grease fire which destroyed the casino. That morning, I realized that Las Vegas was neither predictable nor safe. I began to be more aware of the news reports of yet another body that was found in the desert. I began to look at the lot through more cautious eyes. But, this did not stop me from trying to cut some time from my walk every morning. Once I got through the lot, I walked through another older apartment complex. Here, I had found a friend from school who would walk the rest of the way with me. The meeting on the other side gave me an incentive to cut out 10 minutes from my walk every morning.

Tuesday, January 20, 1981, Las Vegas, NV

On the morning of Ronald Reagan's first inaugural address, I left earlier than usual for school. We had moved to Las Vegas the previous September from Ireland. I was still adjusting to my new surroundings and the addition of my mother's new boyfriend in the house. We quarrelled that morning. I left for school in tears about 20 minutes before my usual time. As I reached the boulevard, I heard the whizzing of the traffic as usual. But, the sun was not quite up. Dusk gave the morning an iridescent glow.

Across the street, through the busy traffic, was my path. My usual running dodge between the traffic was risky enough, but I was a good runner and got a thrill from timing it just right. As I was about to look for a break in the traffic, something caught my eye behind the concrete wall of the house to the right of the lot. Across the four lanes of traffic, I saw a man looking at me. There was something about his look. I couldn't process it, but I knew there was danger. He was putting on a pair of black leather gloves. He wore a black leather jacket. Unusual for Vegas. He had a shock of wavy, black hair. He looked Mexican, but more than that, I got the feeling that a wild dog was looking over at me. My chest compressed. I looked across the street and made the decision that saved my life. This morning, I would stay on the main road. I wouldn't cut through the lot.

I stayed on the left hand side of the street. The road was busy. There were no pedestrians. No storefronts. The only sound I heard was the traffic. To my right, I looked and saw him on the right side of the road. He was keeping up with me. For a moment, I told myself that I was crazy. He was gone. I crossed the street at the light and began walking on the left side of the residential street. Again, nobody was out. To my right was the complex where my friend lived. I began to relax. I was being paranoid.

One minute later, my peripheral vision caught a dark figure walking quickly across the street. He looked over. Panic began to descend on me. What could I do? I had a huge armful of textbooks that were weighing me down. I took a risky chance. In front of me was the Clark High School football field. If I made it to the high school, maybe someone would be there. The sun was slowly rising. There was an opening in the chain-link fence. I began to jog. I looked around. He was nowhere to be seen.

He had climbed the fence and was hiding behind an equipment shed. He began to run toward me as though to cut me off on my path. I ran as fast as I could. My heart pounded in my chest. The blood drained from my face. Shock was keeping me from feeling true fear. His shadow was gaining on mine. A large, black menacing shadow slowly about to envelop me. I turned quickly and threw my books. My voice strangled, but from somewhere a scream emerged. I fell back. He fell over me. His face was within inches of mine. I will never forget the evil. His eyes were cold and black. His mouth was open and wide with the most rotten teeth I had ever seen. Truly shocking. He drooled. He looked up. Then he fell back, looking at me once as he ran away.

From around the side of the school, a small group of students were walking toward me. They asked me if I was alright. I was in shock. I told them that I was fine, picked up my books, and continued my walk to the junior high school.

To this day, I thank God for these students.

When I arrived at school, I went to homeroom in a daze. I went to my locker afterward and I told a friend that someone had followed me to school and nearly "got" me. I broke down in tears. The vice-principal was told and she took me into her office to get the story. When I told her what happened, she alerted the LVPD. The school called home and told my mother. She remembers that it was the morning of Reagan's inauguration when she got the call. Her boyfriend and his friend from the North of Ireland drove around for the rest of the day with baseball bats looking for the perpetrator. No luck. No media coverage. Nothing. Just another attempted mugging in Las Vegas.

Boston, 1985

I was watching the news one evening. The story was one that we had heard of in the media. But, tonight, they had a composite. He was the Night Stalker, the serial killer Richard Ramirez. He terrorized the Los Angeles area from 1984-1986. Finally, a victim who got away had given a description for the police. My chest tightened. The distinguishing feature, she said, was that he had rotten teeth. I mentioned this to my mother. "I have the chills." I said "Remember that guy in Las Vegas who had the rotten teeth? He looked like that drawing." But, why would he be lurking around Valley View Blvd.? I let it go.

When he was caught, his picture was on the news. It was chilling. This was the man, but thinner. Had he lost weight? I don't know. Was this him? I believe it is. He had family in Texas. People take the bus to Texas through Las Vegas. There is a Greyhound station three miles from the incident. But, who really knows? I want to believe that it wasn't him. I don't want to feel that I was so close to death. But, I remember the feeling that I was close to an evil darkness. An evil that still haunts me today. Man is capable of evil. It isn't beyond the realm of possibility.