Thread by @ed_solomon

In August 1985 I was awakened by a call saying "Are you the Night Stalker?" I hung up, thinking it was a weird prank. But it kept happening. That's when I learned - from a reporter on the other end - that I was a prime suspect in that grisly RIchard Ramirez murder spree.

The reporter explained that my car was found at the crime scene, which made no sense because I looked out my window & saw it was still in the parking space of my Westwood apartment. I had to hang up because the police were walking up my driveway - but weirdly slowly.

They had an odd attitude when they arrived, saying something about needing to just "check it out" because it was already not seeming likely that I was "the one." (Also: I had obviously just woken up and was - I suddenly realized - wearing only my tighty whiteys).

Apparently by the time they'd gotten to my place there was new information, & now they were just kind of annoyed - like they'd been given busy work and the *good* stuff was happening an hour or so away. (I actually think they only knocked so one of them could use the bathroom.)

They wouldn't tell me anything about why they suspected me - which I have to say was exceedingly surreal (and I remember I had just read Kafka's The Trial, which made it even surreal..er?). But in the morning I saw the news - and I figured out what happened.

3 years earlier my (then) roommate (& best friend) was buying a used car, & since he was in med school & I had an actual job (my Laverne & Shirley gig), he had me sign (or maybe co-sign?) for his loan. As such, the car was registered to my address, even though he'd just sold it.

The guy who 'd bought it was eating dinner in a Chinese restaurant downtown, where the car (a crappy red Toyota station wagon) was stolen - by Ramirez - and driven to the murder site, where it was abandoned. The irony is my 2 roommates (new ones) were in jail for the night.

That's because a neighbor had seen the pot plant they were growing in the window, and called the police. (I only found this out the next day when they returned.) The only reason I wasn't in jail with them was that I hadn't been around when they were arrested.

I remember my roommates coming back later that day & saying something like: "Oh my god have we got a story for you." And I remember replying with something like, "Okay, me, too.. but you go first."

Addendum to address a few things that have come up since I posted this a couple hours ago. My entire "ordeal" only really lasted - from initial call to tepid knock on my door - for about 5 minutes. (Though I didn't really sleep after that as I neurosed over how it came to be.)

And there was never a sense - aside from the jarring first call, which I hung up on saying "Who is this?" and then "Ha ha ha whoever this is" - of any real threat to me. Certainly because by the time they'd arrived they'd appeared to have already figured it out.

The irony of it was that the guy from whom the car was stolen was in a restaurant writing a thank you note to my friend who'd sold it to him. (He'd sold it for $1, because it was on its last legs and wanted to give it away to someone at his church who could really use wheels.)

He was, apparently, a super sweet guy. And my roommate - and great friend - is a true humanitarian and wonderful guy. Weird how stuff overlaps, though, and things take super strange turns.

A friend just pointed out that now when people search my name they'll also get "People Also Search For: Night Stalker."

Update: my old friend sent me this. It's an interesting look - from an entirely different angle. (And I realize I had a fact wrong: it was not the night he stole it in Chinatown but rather a few weeks later, after a different one, that the calls came.) Posted w his permission.