James Huddle - Killers Keep Secrets: The Golden State Killers Other Life

James Huddle

Copyright 2020 James Huddle

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James Huddle

848 N Rainbow Blvd 4296

Las Vegas NV 89107

ISBN: 978-1-7339732-0-5 (print)

ISBN: 978-1-7339732-1-2 (ebook)

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I had stopped by my daughters house to visit on April 25, 2018, when I got the phone call. The caller ID said New York, but I wasnt expecting a call from the other side of the country. Curious, I answered and put the phone on speaker.

The caller identified himself as Jason Silverstein, a reporter with Oxygen.

Is this James Huddle? Silverstein asked.

Yes, I answered.

Do you know Joseph James DeAngelo?

Yes.

Joe had been like a brother to me for decades, even after he and my sister, Sharon, separated. My kids grew up near his kids. Of course, I knew him.

Did you know he was arrested for being the Golden State Killer?

Killer? I said. What the hell?

Silverstein asked if I knew about the East Area Rapist. I told him I remembered. Id lived in Orangevale, a part of the East Area of Sacramento, California, during the 1970s when the attacks were happening. The East Area Rapist was a big deal. People were scared into locking their doors at night. Joe had been connected to those crimes, too, Silverstein told me.

My mind was racing at this point. I remembered Joe asking me about the East Area Rapist once. He asked me what I would do if the East Area Rapist came into my house. Id attack the guy, I told Joe. He only has a knife and I may harm him so that he may be caught. Joe never brought it up again.

As the reporter began to ask more questions, I told him I needed time.

Oh, my goodness, I said. Wow. Ill have to process this.

When I hung up the phone, I looked at my daughter, Deanna, whod been listening. Her eyes, like mine, were as big as saucers.

For a couple minutes, it felt like it could have all been a mistake, some misunderstanding. But then my other daughter, Nicole, called. She was crying. Shed seen her uncle Joes house on the news, cordoned off by crime tape. Her cousin, Misha, still lived there at the time.

That day, I learned that authorities believed my former roommate, longtime friend, and brother-in-law was responsible for killing more than a dozen people and raping at least 50 across California between 1975 and 1986. Using DNA evidence, the FBI connected him to the crimes, though its important to note at the time of this writing that Joe hasnt entered a plea. The brutal attacker had been known by various nicknames through the years: the Golden State Killer, the East Area Rapist, the Visalia Ransacker, the Diamond Knot Killer, and the Original Night Stalker. Though the trial has not yet taken place, and he is innocent until proven guilty in a court of law, law enforcement is confident hes responsible. If hes convicted, prosecutors plan to ask for the death penalty.

It seems he stopped committing crimes after 1986. People wondered then what had happened. Was the Golden State Killer dead? Had he been arrested? Decades later, people still wondered what had happened to stop such a prolific serial killer.

I didnt know then what kind of monster he really was. In 1981, I celebrated as Joe and Sharon had their first baby girl, born about a month apart from my second daughter, Nicole. Five years after that, they had their second, and two and a half years later they had their third.

For the most part, Joe seemed like a normal guy. If hed flaunted his crimes or paraded around celebrating the horrific things hed done, I would have turned him insame goes for my other relatives. If hed been obvious about it, it wouldnt have taken law enforcement more than 40 years to catch him. Joe was hiding in plain sight.

When reporters first started calling me, I was still in a defensive mode. Id tell them he was innocent until proven guilty. After a couple of weeks of calls, I told them to call me again in a year, then I stopped answering my phone.

Frankly, it was all hard for me to believe at first. Its been almost two years now since the news broke. Ive had time to process it, and I think it checks out.

Looking back, I remember some strange things about Joe. But none of those things would have been grounds for me to call the police. I hope that by writing this book, I can offer up what I did know about him. Maybe it will help someone else stop a bad guy a little sooner. Maybe the publicity will piss off Joe enough to say something more to the police about the crimes.

Most of Joes immediate family dont want to have anything to do with this book, including my sister Sharon. This is a difficult time for them, and I want to respect their wishes as much as possible.

Everything I write here is to the best of my recollection, which Ill admit isnt what it used to be as I get closer to turning 70.

But I need to write this book for me. It will help me sleep at night. Theres nothing anyone can do to bring back the killers victims or restore the lives that were shattered, but I hope in some small way I can do my part to help justice prevail.

I first met Joe around the summer of 1971, when Sharon brought him over to meet the family. Theyd recently started dating; she was 17 at the time. I was 20. I had my own place then, but I often ate dinner at Mom and Dads house. We had just finished dinner when the doorbell rang. When Mom answered it, Sharon came in with a huge smile, followed by her new friend.

This is Joe! she said. I want you to meet Joe.

He was a bit apprehensive, as many guys are when they meet their girlfriends family, but we got to talking. He was studying criminology to be a police officer. Sharon had just started going to American River College in northern Sacramento and planned to be a lawyer. She must have thought he was perfect.

I learned he was a Navy guy who had served for 22 months, shipping off to Vietnam. He had served on a guided missile cruiser called the USS Canberra, which patrolled along the 17th parallel, a circle of latitude marking the split between warring North and South Vietnam. He was injured when his ship traveled south to battle in the Mekong Delta. He served as a damage-control man then. Once, he had to repair damage to the ship when it took fire. In the effort, he lost the tip of the index finger on his right hand. It was a minor defectthe longer I knew him, the less I noticed it. But nonetheless, it was a distinguishing markone that could have prompted a rapist or killer to wear gloves during every attack to protect his identity.

Joe was born in Bath, New York. His fathers name was Joseph DeAngelo, Senior, and his mothers name was Kathleen DeGroat. The two got married in 1941 in a Baptist church. They had Joe in November of 1945.

Joseph Sr. served as an airman in World War II. According to a 1944 article in the Elmira Star-Gazette, he was awarded seven clusters to the Air Medal for meritorious achievement. He was wounded in action over Australia. At the time, he was serving with the Army Air Force as a gunner on a B-24 bomber.