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Cruel and Unusual

 

Page 5 of 5

More pieces of her puzzled life were fitting together.

"I recently saw Leslie Van Houton on television either before or after a parole hearing," I remarked, "and from what I heard from the commentary, there is a chance she may eventually be released."

"Yes, Leslie has a chance because of her excellent behavior. We're all watching to see what happens to her. If she's released, it will be a beginning. Then maybe I might have a chance."

"Are you in touch with her?" I asked.

"Oh yes. We see each other and talk everyday. I love Leslie. If it hadn't been for her in the early years, I never would have made it. She's helped me in so many ways. For example, we rehearse and plan our hearing strategies together. We do everything we can to be released. Even if the door is slammed in our faces, we drop the disappointment, release our emotions, and start planning for the next hearing. It's the only way to survive."

"During your hearings, do they ­ the parole board ­ ask you whether you would ever again fall under the influence of someone like Manson?" I asked.

"Yes, my primary position is that I will never be 'conned' again. Manson is a sociopath who preyed on other people ­ me included." Her tone suggested that she wasn't about to allow another Svengali into her life. Or at least, that's her position now. What will happen if she is eventually released is conjecture.

But for me, a crucial question remained. What was going through her mind on those two fateful nights in August 1969? I didn't bring up the subject because I felt I had probed enough in our first face-to-face encounter.

When I returned home, we continued to correspond, and in one of my letters, I decided to confront the issue. I told her I was curious about her state of mind on the nights of the killings. I invited her to share those feelings with me if she chose to do so. Over the next few months, she called several times and wrote a couple of times, but never acknowledged my request. In fact, she simply ignored it.

I was keenly disappointed, feeling that a gap in the story still remained. Her case and her possibility of parole may well hinge on two circumstances: her state of mind during those two terrible nights in 1969, and her behavior over the past 30 years. Against the inevitable backdrop of public opinion, her parole board must decide whether her crimes were too cruel and unusual to be forgiven, or whether her continued incarceration is almost as cruel.

In the meantime, we are left to speculate. If Krenwinkel is truly remorseful, and has sought some kind of inner peace in order to survive, day after day, year after year, wasn't she compelled to rid herself of the evil that prompted her to do what she did? Or have the years simply dulled, or even erased, a memory that was scrambled from the beginning by drugs?

Maybe Patricia Krenwinkel is the only one who knows the truth ­ and she isn't talking. *

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