
Death was on Julia Rubino’s mind a lot during 1976.
Automatic negative thoughts (or ANTS as she called them) started crawling around her brain months earlier when she first heard about the mysterious murders in New York City.
The killer openly taunted the police; seeking misplaced attention and public veneration, he wrote rambling and ambiguous letters to journalist Jimmy Breslin who printed them in his column in The Daily News. In his letters the murderer sometimes referenced a cult, hinting that the killings were a rite of passage. Other times he claimed a demonic dog owned by his neighbor Sam spoke to him demanding the blood of pretty young girls.
All the victims were females with long dark hair; as a college student with shoulder-length brunette curls, Julia felt particularly vulnerable. When she told her parents she wanted to cut her hair and dye it blonde, they said she was over-reacting. Julia’s boyfriend Steve told her she was being ridiculous, that there was nothing to worry about. He said they were safe in their little town of New Rochelle. Violent crimes like that only happened in dangerous urban locations, not quiet Westchester County.
On date nights, Julia and Steve often drove to the Glen Island Beach parking lot in New Rochelle; it was a popular make-out spot and the police very rarely patrolled the area or bothered the couples parked there. When Julia told Steve she didn’t want to go parking any more, he got pissed off. Tearfully she told him the murders were making her afraid of her own shadow. She reminded him that the killings always involved two victims β young women and their boyfriends parked in cars. She couldn’t shake the notion that something terrible was going to happen to them.
Steve argued that Julia was being paranoid and they had no other choice if they wanted to be alone. They had no privacy living at home with their parents and Julia refused to go to a motel saying it made her feel sleazy. Frustrated, Steve yelled at her to calm down and get a grip. Afraid of losing him, Julia begrudgingly decided they had only one option if they wanted to be alone and that was the dark parking lot of Glen Island Beach.
On July 29 things took an unexpected and shocking turn; the first murders in Westchester County occurred. This time the killer’s MO was different and left the police wondering if the shootings were done by the same individual or a copy-cat killer. The victims were two girls sitting in a car in a well-lit area β not a girl and her boyfriend in a dark parking lot.
The two women were nurses Jody Valenti and Donna Lauria. They had been sitting in Jody’s double-parked Oldsmobile outside Donna’s house talking about their night out at a New Rochelle disco. When Donna opened the car door to get out, a man suddenly approached. Pulling out a gun, he crouched down and opened fire. Donna was killed instantly but Jody survived. The attack happened quickly, however, Jody was able to give a description of the assailant. It matched that of the shooter of the previous killings.
Westchester County residents were panic-stricken, especially Julia. Police urged everyone to stay vigilant and refrain from sitting in parked cars. Julia considered dropping out of college and staying at home until the murderous madman was caught; her parents convinced her it was irrational to completely cut oneself off from the world. No one understood how scared she was, especially now that the murders were much closer to home. She felt like she had a target painted on her back. Every young woman felt the same way; our lives were being controlled by an unknown killer and our own fears.
For more than a year the killer held the citizens of New York captive. On the night of August 10, 1977, the state of terror finally ended. After a brief but intense shootout, the murderer was apprehended at his Yonkers apartment, ironically just minutes from Westchester Community College where Julia was a student. Julia could finally breathe a sigh of relief. Whatever her reasons were, she had a feeling deep in her gut that if the killer had not been caught, she would have eventually ended up on his list of victims. That is something that will remain unanswered forever.
Dear readers β Julia Rubino, her boyfriend Steve and her parents are fictional characters I created for this story; everything else written here is true and accurate. I know this because I lived through it and was as terrified as everyone else.
In August it will be 46 years since that historic arrest. The notorious killer is David Berkowitz, known around the world as Son of Sam. Berkowitz pled guilty to all the shootings; six people were killed and seven wounded, some horribly. His weapon of choice was a .44 caliber Bulldog revolver gun.
On the day after his sentencing, Berkowitz was taken first to Sing SingΒ prison in Ossining, NY, then to the upstate Clinton Correctional FacilityΒ for psychiatric and physical examinations.Β Two more months were spent at the Central New York Psychiatric Center before his admission to the infamous Attica Correctional Facility. Berkowitz served about a decade in Attica until he was relocated to Sullivan Correctional Facility in Fallsburg, where he remained for many years. He is now housed atΒ Shawangunk Correctional Facility which is located in Wallkill, Ulster County.
Berkowitz described his life in Attica as “a living hell, a nightmare” β as it should be; no one is more deserving.
NAR Β© 2023
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shutters still run up my spine hearing this Nancy.
π
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You don’t have to convince me, Cindy! Thanks for sharing your thoughts.
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I’ve watched and read so much about him. I can’t imagine the terror of living in his area in that time.
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It was awful, Staci. I tried to convey the terror we all felt during that time; I hope you were able to get a feel for it.
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I did,
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The fear that crimes creates makes victims of so many more than the crimes themselves, but it is impossible for many of us to escape it. I’m glad Julia eventually found release in his captivity.
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To some degree Julia was based on me and how very scared I was during that year; however, I was older than college age, married and pregnant. Fear is a powerful reaction. It can paralyze us or make us react in ways we never would under normal conditions. This is not the carnival fun house type of fear; this is an ice cold hand gripping your heart fear. Thanks for sharing your thoughts today.
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Too horrifying for me … best I go back to listening to the “WoodKid” concert …
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I don’t blame you one bit, Ivor! You always have such great videos on your own site; I enjoy them almost as much as your writing.
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Yeah β¦ if my poems no good , at least my readers can enjoy the music/video
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I remember this well, but was far enough away that I didn’t really think about it that much except when reading the headlines. I can’t imagine how I would have felt if I lived in the area he stalked. Shivers.
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I’m sure you do, D. This was big news and Berkowitz got off on knowing he held the entire city of NY captive. We definitely changed our way of living, giving much thought before stepping out the door at night.
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What a horrible person to commit such crimes.
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This was without a doubt the scariest time of my life. We lived in the next town at the time. Thanks for sharing your thoughts, Sadje.
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I can only imagine how terrifying it must be
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Gosh. That brings back memories. We were living in LA during the Night Stalker killings. It was a very scary time because that guy entered houses while people slept. I still have trouble sleeping with the window open.
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Sorry for the bad reminder, Misk. Ramirez, the Night Stalker, was a savage fueled by his coke addiction. His acts were beyond the scope of one’s imagination. While Berkowitz killed in cold blood, he never came in contact with any of his victims. He never got his hands dirty. We lived in the next town during his killing spree and I was paralyzed with fear. I can only imagine what it was like being in LA in 1984. I can definitely relate to having trouble sleeping with the window open. To say these monsters were animals is putting animals in a bad light. They were savage, especially Ramirez. Berkowitz is living comfortably in prison; Ramirez died in prison. Both got off too easy.
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A mob nearly killed him as I recall. The police had to save him. Glad to hear that he’s dead.He was an evil piece of shit. Feel free to edit that word, if you wish.
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No editing from me. That’s exactly what he was! Sounds to me like the police could have tried a little less to save him and no one would have cared.
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I watched recently the documentary about Son of Sam…
MEDIC!
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Those eyes. Empty and lifeless. Now he’s a born-again Christian getting his 3 squares a day and sleeping comfortably in a prison bed. What’s wrong with this picture?
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A lot…
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Let the punishment fit the crime
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Damn straight.
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As I read your story, my thought was “Son of Sam”.
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Ripped straight from the headlines. It was a most surreal time.
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The 1999 movie “Summer of Sam” (https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0162677/) well depicts that summer.
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Thanks for the link, A. Anyone who wants to learn more can take a look. I, for one, do not need any reminders.
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Did you live in the area at the time?
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