David's father independently confirmed the antagonistic relationship between his son and the Winnants, and explained the baseball bat incident. Mr. Reinnike stated his son had a bed-wetting problem at that time. He stated that in an attempt to cure his son, he hung his son's soiled sheets on the clothesline in their backyard, and that the other children, instigated by Charles Winnant, ridiculed David for many months. He stated that on the day in question, Charles Winnant was once more ridiculing David for being a bed wetter when David struck the older boy with a baseball bat. Charles Winnant was not seriously injured and required no stitches or hospitalization. George Reinnike assumed full responsibility for creating the situation. He stated that he personally apologized to the Winnants, but that they had been frightened of his son and had spread stories about his son ever since.

David Reinnike appears bright, but is given to inappropriate behaviors and extreme swings of emotion. He is being raised by his single father, George Reinnike, who is disabled and unemployed. George Reinnike states that David's mother abandoned them soon after David's birth. She has no contact with her son, and her whereabouts are unknown.

Neighbors both involved and uninvolved with the charges at hand allege David Reinnike has demonstrated violence, vandalism, and bizarre behaviors. No record of these allegations exists in police files. David Reinnike has no prior arrests.

George Reinnike admitted that David has committed two acts of vandalism, but stated these incidents have not recurred. He denies the other incidents. The neighbors making the allegations were re-questioned as to when these incidents allegedly occurred, and admitted the incidents were not recent.

Though Mrs. Winnant's allegation that David Reinnike threatened to kill her dog is credible, no witnesses or evidence exists that David Reinnike did in fact kill the dog. It is clear that much hostility exists between several neighbors and the Reinnikes. This hostility is apparent in their statements.

It is my opinion that prosecution of David Reinnike in this matter would be unsuccessful. It is further my opinion that David Reinnike would benefit from appropriate counseling. George Reinnike stated he would submit David for such counseling.

My recommendation is that the charges against David Reinnike not be forwarded for prosecution.

(signed)

Gil Ferrier, Detective

#1212

9/14/68

JD/SDCSD

When I finished, I copied Ferrier's name and badge number, and the names and numbers of the two arresting officers. I didn't expect the A.O.s to remember, but it was clear that Ferrier was thorough and concerned, and might have stayed involved in David's case. Thirty-five years was a long time ago, but he might even know what happened to the Reinnikes after they left Temecula.

The image of the dead collie was hard to erase, and left me feeling unnerved. The incident with the dog happened almost a year before the Reinnikes disappeared, and the file contained no record that the police had rolled out again, but I believed the neighbors. David Reinnike had been a seriously troubled child, and troubles like that didn't vanish with leaving a house. Maybe George had gotten David into counseling, and David had straightened out, but I doubted that, too.

I went back to the phone, and got Starkey's voice mail again.

"Hey, I just read this stuff. I'm on my way to see Diaz, but I want to talk to you about it. I'll call you later."

I headed for Central Station.

Twenty minutes later I left my car in the same parking lot I had used before, checked in at the front desk, and waited another ten minutes before Diaz came down. I started to outline Golden's operation as we rode up in the elevator, but Diaz cut me off.

"Let's see if the picture helps us before we get into all that."

The squad room was busy. Almost every desk was occupied with detectives working their phones. Pardy was the only detective in the room who didn't look busy. He was slouched at his desk on the far wall, staring at nothing with his arms crossed. The dark blue murder book was open on his desk, but he didn't seem to be looking at it. Diaz called out to him, and waved toward her desk.

"Hey, Sherlock. Come see."

Pardy considered her for a long time before he got up. He was probably getting tired of her put-downs. He closed the murder book, checked his pager, then made his way over. He pulled up a chair as far from us as he could get.

I said, "You making any progress?"

"I'm working a few leads. You know."

"Got any ideas?"

"I'm not looking for ideas."

Diaz said, "Okay, Cole, let's see it. What do you have here?"

While the computer booted up, I gave them the page with Edelle Reinnike's and Marjorie Lawrence's names and numbers. I gave them the copies of the newspaper articles and told them what I had learned. Diaz glanced at each item, then passed them to Pardy. Pardy looked up when I told them about David Reinnike.

"I guess that leaves you out, Cole. Unless you were separated at birth."

Diaz flushed like she was pissed off.

"The one doesn't have anything to do with the other. How about you run the name and see if we get a hit?"

"I'm just saying. Why would Reinnike think Cole was his son if he already had a son? It doesn't make sense."

"Why would he tattoo crosses all over himself and pay hookers to pray? We'll find out when we find some people who really knew the guy."

I found the photo file, and opened the picture. Reinnike and Dana filled the little screen, standing beside Reinnike's brown Accord. The license plate was a blurry rectangle in the lower right corner of the screen. Pardy stood closer.

"She has the boyfriend, Thomas Monte."

"That's right."

Pardy looked disappointed.

"Not bad, but not great. It's blurry."

Diaz said, "SID might be able to pull it out. We could snatch the registration with just a couple of digits."

Pardy went back to his chair.

"I'm not getting my hopes up. That backlog is a bitch. If we have to wait months to get a gun checked, how long will it be before they get around to this?"

I interrupted them.

"I can help you with that, too."

Pardy said, "What, you have your own private Walk-in Wednesday?"

So much crime was committed in Los Angeles that the LAPD lab was backlogged for months. Priorities were given to hot cases and cases going to trial, but the backlog was still so great that LAPD set up an experimental program called Walk-in Wednesday. Every Wednesday, detectives could hand-carry evidence to the lab on a first-come first-served basis to cut through the red tape. But there were still so many cases that the waiting rooms were crowded with loitering detectives.

I said, "Something like that. I have a friend at SID who owes me a favor."

"The little creep who worked with the key card?"

"Yeah, Pardy, him."

The little creep. Chen would love it.

I explained how Thomas came to take the picture, and that a couple of hundred pictures just like it were in the computer. Diaz and Pardy listened as I went through the terms of the deal, then Diaz arched her eyebrows at Pardy.

"You'd have to turn it over to Southwest Bunco, but it would still look good. I think we should go for it."

"Do whatever you want."

Diaz stared at him, and was clearly annoyed.

"Listen, Pardy, don't drop the ball here. This could turn into a major investigation with the Feds. You should get a piece of that. You should develop the case to see what you have before you hand it off. That way, you get more of the credit."

Pardy had resumed his slouch, and stared at her with sleepy eyes.