Gareth Penn

Just to let everyone know, I sent those 3 "Raymond Grant" Zodiac books I got with the Napa Sentinel stuff to Mike Martin, the guy with that Weeklyscientist.com site who wrote the extensive piece on Penn. Mike is certain that Penn is "Raymond Grant", which adds some mystery to the plot since "Grant" accuses Penn, in great length, and O'Hare of plotting the Z murders together. Weird huh? Also apparently "Grant" tosses a couple more murders Penn's way (I never read the dang books, too Mensa for me). Anyway it makes sense, Penn was pounding the Napa Sentinel with letters, he must have also sent the books.

Mike Martin used to post on Zodiacfacts.com but I believe he bailed or was banned. Someone said he was posting on Opord under another name. I'm sure he's going to have a lot to say on this Penn/Grant thing, possibly there or on his web site. If I hear any more I'll let you know.

Maybe we should invite Mike M. to come over and help keep us updated on the Penn case, from
a more down to earth view? He is a good researcher and poster.

Bentley -

Did you see anything in those books that was readable and made sense about the JOAN WEBSTER case?

Yes he went into Webster I believe, as for making sense....dunno.

Update, just sent an invite to this site to Mike M. So he can keep us updated on the latest Penn findings.

I heard from Mike Martin last night. He's not keen on joining any more Z message boards. Here's what he had to say regarding the "Harry Grant" books:

I've actually finished the Raymond Grant book and spoken at length with a Boston
reporter/news media personality to whom it was actually dedicated -- Henry Santoro.

He recalls being contacted years ago about the Zodiac case. He received an anonymous letter informing him that the Zodiac killer lived on his street in Brookline, MA. The person referred to was Mike O'Hare.

When you ignore all the code bullshit in Raymond Grant's book, you're left with an over the top presentation focused on proving one simple point: That the Zodiac killer was a genius of incomparable intelligence.

"Raymond Grant" makes this point again and again and again, expressing dismay, disgust, and fury that the lingering impression of the killer left by the police was that he was an "uneducated moron."

Here's a passage where Grant compares the Zodiac killings to the Hiroshima atomic bomb blast:

"The A-bomb is to a hand grenade as the Zodiac is to the average murderer. Both are brutes, but the scale and the after effects are considerably greater with the Zodiac, and his interior machinations are more sophisticated. It's hard to blame the police for not believing in the existence of a criminal more fantastic than any fiction writer has ever dreamed up."

Absolutely unbelievable!

Through all this, you also learn that Mr. Grant claims to have met Penn when the two were members of Mensa in the mid-seventies. He claims to have been Penn's right-hand man for four (4) years, like a Man Friday or a Dr. Watson.

It's clear from the books that he has assembled an amazing collection of Zodiac memorabilia, and the appendices include dozens of private letters from Penn, photos of O'Hare and his family I've never seen, and assorted other material. And this is just one book of three.

The twist is supposedly that Raymond Grant apparently started to suspect Penn of the crimes, and turned against him. He claims to have later provided these books to several different law enforcement and media outlets.

Finally, the largest of the three books adds several new names to the Zodiac homicide list, including a 1969 death I'd never heard of, Shelly Holmboe (I've since spoken with her father).

I'm left with a question: Who would write a 400-page book that goes to so much trouble, not only to lavish praise but to prove that the Zodiac killer was such an unmitigated talent?

Mike

I also pondered Mike's last question. What would poses Gareth Penn to write a very comprehensive book under a pseudonym, implicating himself as the Zodiac, and mail it off to LE and the media? This may be, imho, the oddest piece of work to come out of him.

Here again is the first page of the chapter "The Case Against Gareth Penn" for those that missed it on zodiaczee.

https://2img.net/r/ihimizer/img199/2461/29266436.jpg

I view Gareth as either, completely disturbing, or as eccentric as it is probably possible to become, and disturbing. The disturbing factor is in even contemplating how you could have murdered someone (Bates), let alone writing it in a book for all and sundry to read. Perhaps Bugliosi should have told us how he could have committed the Tate/Labianca murders, how easy it would have been for him. Or Graysmith telling us his planned escape route from Stine. Disturbing.

The only thing that interests me in this Penn/O'hare saga is that so many people can not see how he actually came up with O'Hare's name. When looking over the Crime of the Century notes lately I was struck by something. In amongst the notes it states that O'Hare was at Harvard, I had read this before, it states that he attended the JFK School of Government at Harvard, that was the part I did not know. Remember Tahoe's observation about the watch and the Phillips 66 Cipher the Omega sign and the JFK backwards.

The only other place I have seen JFK in association with anyone it is 'The Unmentionable' who apparently , according to the Opord site at the time attended the JFK School of Special Warfare apparently. (the last two weeks of Green Beret training happens in Pineland, The peoples Republic of Pineland, in an exersize known as Robin Sage. Opposing forces come from Opforland, just thought I'd throw this in there.)

Anyhow, It got me thinking, where else do you see greek signs and symbolism used amongst colleges and University's. Fraternity's, and not all Fraternity's are limited to the School you happen to be attending, I've often wondered if the pair of them belong to some Fraternity, there are quite a few Nationwide, and not all of them are Educational. I am not insinuating that they formed their own Frat or that killing is some kind of initiation but that perhaps this is where Penn knows O'Hare from. His obvious admiration for someone that he views as a killer is, from where I am sitting, not normal.

Bentley, can I ask you about the Raymond Grant books?
There is a chapter called the case against Hugh (Scott) Penn right?
Can you tell anything about that chapter? I read the other pages you posted on the old board.
Do you have the images stored, can post/send those in that case?

I think Penn thinks soo much of himself and his intelligence, that its become an embarrassment to his ego that he hasnt been able to find zodiac, so as time goes by he becomes more eccentric and has even been putting himself into the case. If he hasnt been checked out by LE they deserved to be ridiculed. But im sure he has long ago been passed off as just another one of the zodiac characters in the search for zodiac.

Salus - I agree with you...in my opinion, he is an extremely intelligent person that is probably too smart that he is odd, weird, and drives himself and others crazy...can not function normally in society so he has to call attention to himself through his odd book...in some ways like Unabomber.
I find C Farmer disturbing.

I must agree he is an oddity, and in no way the Zodiac. Bizarre, disturbing and to be honest all the reams of nonsense he has produced posing as others and blaming himself for these crimes, would probably give a psychologist nightmares. Boilermaker the last I saw on Opord Farmer was popping on over to North Korea again to search for an American. Nuts, completely nuts. How many people have that much of an interest in Binary and Numerology and cypher decryption of total fantasy that they pop up so often on his site. I bet he he wears a fedora, dark glasses, and raincoat everywhere he goes, he's such a secret agent.

Also Bently apparently they all want a look at your Raymond Grant books over on Opord, Thermoplank needs a copy, would it be evil if we wrote our own and gave him a page a week

great idea for sharing a faux book w farmer - per haps he could link john wilkes booth to zodiac in some way if supplied w false info
he is intelligent in his own right like Penn, just takes special people to appreciate them

Has Gareth Penn through the years ever come into the zodiackiller chat or other chatrooms or do all we know of him is online or in his books.

I think he has, still is and has other characters, don't think anyone agrees with me though lol.

Solar Pons wrote:

I think he has, still is and has other characters, don't think anyone agrees with me though lol.

I TOTALLY Agree with you Solar! I find Gareth a very interesting guy. He is so smart, and I think can take on different ways of playing with peoples heads. I have read some posts on some sites and have wondered IF .... that could be Gareth. In fact someone and myself recently shared a PM over that topic of conversion. I would Welcome Gareth to come here as a poster, and share some of his thoughts with us* ( should we invite him, kinda like the Crabtree Thing on the old ZodiacZee, ) We would have to be smarter and wiser, IF that were the case.

Someone in agreement, hooray lol. Zam I would love it if he came on, he can post under all his other aliases if he likes elsewhere, he should at least do it under his own name for a change, he would be inundated, I would definetly have questions for him.

I was asked to deliver this message to the Zodiac On Line Community from Gareth Penn. It is a brilliant read, but quite lengthy. I will be breaking it up into appx. 4 parts for us to read the entire letter. After this forum gets a chance to read it and ponder, I will be sharing with the other sites, as I feel it's fair for them to also be aware. I ask that NO one copy and post this UNTIL I get it all on this site for our members to read and ponder, and then give us your thoughts.( Then I will go post on the other forums. ) Also IF you would like me to send any questions to Garth Penn, I will be happy to do so, and see IF he would like to answer them.
I was JUST given permission to share my contact, Janice Hendrickson furnished this forward.
Zincerely, Zam *
Enclosed Part 1:

D550

Monday, May 24, 2010

The jig is up


by Gareth Penn


There is no slander in an allowed fool, though he do nothing but rail.

— Olivia, Twelfth night


I had always been baffled by my descent into evil until July 2002, when I visited my cousin Valerie, who lives in New York. All three of my cousins and I had been baptized together in April 1944, when I was too young to form permanent memories. Valerie, who is a few years older than I, remembers the event, and she belatedly — 58 years after the fact — filled me in. She says that when the pastor’s hand, cupped to hold the holy water, approached my head, I bobbed and weaved and practically did a backflip to keep from being tagged. She thinks the holy water did not even touch me. If she is right, then I was not even symbolically washed clean of the burden of Original Sin. That, of course, explains the path my life has followed since then.

What amazes me most about the furor surrounding my criminal past is how little incriminating material the leading theorists have managed to dig up. In the interest of justice, I would like to contribute a number of items that they have somehow overlooked and which would greatly enhance the quality of the discussion concerning my transgressions.

On 10 November 1965, I was undergoing basic training at Fort Dix, New Jersey, when Fort Dix and the entire northeastern part of the United States — not to mention two Canadian provinces — were blacked out by a power failure that lasted ten hours. Twelve years later, in July 1977, I was in New York when all five boroughs (and Westchester County) experienced a 36-hour blackout. And then when I was in New York in July 2002 (learning late in life about my non-baptism), there was yet another blackout, this time in Brooklyn. I wasn’t actually in Brooklyn when the last of these events took place (I was in Staten Island at the time), but even the dullest among us must see that since there is a power failure in New York City every time I am there (or nearby), I must be responsible for it.

My baleful influence extends to college athletic programs as well as the power grid. When I was a freshman at Berkeley, I went to all the home football games, but I did not go to a single football game in any of my other three undergraduate years. For my first two years at Berkeley, I went to all the home basketball games, but never went to another game as a junior or senior. In the one year I attended the football games, the Golden Bears went to the Rose Bowl; in the ensuing half century, they have never returned to it. The same is true of Cal basketball; in both of the two years I went to their home games, the Bears won the NCAA championship, but they have never since even made it into the semifinals. Some of my dorm mates drove down to Pasadena to root for the football team in January 1959, but I stayed in Berkeley; UC’s loss to Iowa (38-12) is obviously attributable to my lack of school spirit. Sabotaging my alma mater’s athletic program may not be the legal equivalent of murder to a judge and jury, but the corps of Cal alumni would probably feel differently about it.

Speaking of my undergraduate years at Berkeley, at that time, there was a professor in my department named Erwin Gudde. Professor Gudde was a linguistics scholar who had devoted years of study to California Indian languages. This led him to compile a list of place names derived from those languages, and, since he was a German, a Teutonic compulsion to thoroughness drove him to expand his list into a dictionary of all California place names; that dictionary is now the standard work on the subject. In the entry on the town of Paradise (Butte County), Gudde notes that a railroad map published in 1900 misspells the place name as “Paradice.” The Zodiac murderer misspells the word the same way in four documents; Gudde and I were in the same department, so it is amazing that none of those who comment on my criminal activities has ever brought up this stunning piece of circumstantial evidence. I never took a course from Gudde, and I don’t even know what he looked like, but he must have been influential; the results speak for themselves.

I was at Berkeley as a graduate student from the fall of 1968 through the summer of 1972. During that period, I also lived in Berkeley and was employed by the university as a teaching assistant. At the beginning of January 1973, my wife, son, and I moved to 701 Capitol Street in Vallejo, where we rented the main part of the house while looking for a home to purchase in Napa. We lived at 701 Capitol Street for five months in all, moving to Napa late in May. The house had a mother-in-law unit, which was occupied by someone whom we could hear typing late into the night. When we introduced ourselves, our housemate turned out to be one Tracy Kidder, who had an assignment from the Atlantic Monthly to write about the trial of accused serial murderer Juan Corona, which was going on in Solano County Superior Court in nearby Fairfield. Kidder had been there since September, and he left again around the end of January. He expanded his Atlantic article into a book, which appeared under the title The road to Yuba City (Doubleday, 1974).

It boggles the mind that, given the attention they have devoted to the minutest details of my biography, the commentators have missed this damning piece of evidence: Tracy Kidder and I both lived at 701 Capitol Street for five months, overlapping there by one month (January 1973), and we both wrote books about serial murderers. Furthermore, a very cursory look at Kidder’s biography reveals that he and I were both in the U.S. Army in 1967. A more thorough investigation would without a doubt turn up more striking parallels. It seems inescapable that “Tracy Kidder” is a lightly disguised form of the phrase “trace the kidder,” a kidder being someone who is disingenuous (i.e. kids), and that when someone introduces himself as “Tracy Kidder,” he is slyly hinting that if you look more closely into the facts (i.e. trace them), you will find that he is actually someone else. It follows, given the biographical parallels between us, that Tracy Kidder and I must be one and the same person.

My involvement in the bombing of the Oklahoma City federal office building in April 1995 is something else the commentators have, to my astonishment, completely overlooked. Timothy McVeigh and I, both Army veterans, were both ordered to pull over to the side of the highway by Oklahoma law enforcement officers. Both of us came out of these confrontations without getting a ticket (he was arrested for possessing an illegal firearm; I got a lecture). Before his trial was moved to Denver pursuant to a change-of-venue motion, it was scheduled to take place in Comanche County Court, in the same courthouse where I was married on 23 December 1966 (by Comanche County judge Lewis F. Oerke — “It rhymes with ‘Corky,’” he pointed out). These eerie parallels simply set one’s spine a-tingle.

But damning as all the above is, it and everything else that has been written about the black deeds I have committed pale in comparison to the complex of data surrounding my involvement in the assassination of San Francisco mayor George Moscone and supervisor Harvey Milk as well as the massacre of 900 people at Jonestown in Guyana. Much has been made of an extramarital affair which I had in 1978, since the woman with whom I was involved was the niece of the woman who had discovered the corpses of the Zodiac’s victims at Lake Herman Road ten years earlier. These things are all intricately connected, as will become obvious in the following presentation.

To begin with, they all happened in 1978; thus they are linked by synchronicity alone. The circumstances that led to my extramarital affair eventuated in a divorce (1982-1985), in which I was represented by an attorney named Susan Wilkinson. Wilkinson left the practice of the law a few years later to work as an assistant to California Assemblywoman Jackie Speier. Before she ran for her Assembly seat, Speier had been an assistant to Congressman Leo Ryan and had accompanied him on a trip to Guyana to investigate complaints of misconduct on the part of the Reverend Jim Jones, the leader of the People’s Temple, which had recently relocated to Guyana from San Francisco. Ryan and his party were attacked at the rural airstrip where their plane landed by members of the People’s Temple; Ryan was killed by gunfire and Speier was wounded. The poisoning of hundreds of People’s Temple members with cyanide-laced Kool-Aid took place the same day. As you can see, I am connected to these lugubrious events by a chain of associations consisting of only two links (I am linked to Wilkinson, Wilkinson is linked to Speier, and Speier is linked to Jonestown).

As to the assassination of Moscone and Milk, they were murdered in San Francisco City Hall, a building with which I have numerous connections. My daughter worked there for a number of years in the 1980s-1990s, and my father worked for the California Division of Highways (now called CalTrans) in the 1940s-1950s in the California state office building across McAllister Street from City Hall. Furthermore, my wife Mary Ann — whom I married in the courthouse that almost hosted the Timothy McVeigh trial — and I had, for a number of years, season tickets to San Francisco Opera, which holds forth at the War Memorial Opera House across Van Ness Avenue from City Hall. And in 1972, I participated in a meeting with San Francisco Sheriff Richard Hongisto at his office in City Hall. The People’s Temple had, before its removal to Guyana, been located in San Francisco, and it was a force to be reckoned with in city politics. Jim Jones supported George Moscone’s election, and it is conceivable that without Jones’ help, Moscone would not have been mayor. The mayor’s office is in City Hall, and so there is another two-link chain connecting me with the Jonestown massacre (I am linked to City Hall, City Hall is linked to George Moscone, and George Moscone is linked to Jim Jones). Come to think of it, Moscone’s press secretary was Mel Wax, who had been the editor/moderator of KQED-TV’s Newsroom, Richard Hongisto had been a reporter on Newsroom before his election to the sheriff’s office, and when Mary Ann and I were expecting our first child, we answered an ad offering a used crib; when we asked the seller for her name so we could write her a check, she turned out to be Norma Hongisto, Richard’s sister-in-law. After his stint as sheriff, Hongisto was a supervisor with an office in City Hall. SF City Hall is stuck to me with Elmer’s Glue-All!

Mary Ann and I usually parked our car in the Civic Center garage and then walked west on McAllister Street to get to the Opera House. There is a statue of the eponymous Hall McAllister on that side of City Hall, and right behind the McAllister statue is a semicircular driveway that goes down to an entrance on the basement level of City Hall. Now, if Hall McAllister were to look backwards over his shoulder, he would be able to see the basement window through which former supervisor Dan White entered City Hall to murder Moscone and Milk in 1978 (the same year — just in case you’ve forgotten — in which I had an affair with the niece of the woman who discovered the Zodiac victims’ corpses in 1968). He did so in order to avoid the metal detectors at the public entrances, which would have disclosed that he was carrying a pistol. The prosecution argued that this showed premeditation on White’s part, an argument that was trumped by the famous Twinkie Defense; the jury accepted the defense argument that White acted on an impulse triggered by excessive carbohydrate intake. But I digress.

The People’s Temple decamped for Guyana in 1978 following publication of an article titled “Inside People’s Temple,” which appeared in the 1 August 1977 issue of New West, the California sister publication of Clay Felker’s New York. The authors were Marshall Kilduff and Phil Tracy. In 1980-1981, I sold three articles to New West, one on global warming, one on geodesic dome houses, and one on the Zodiac murders. Furthermore, Kilduff went on to write for the San Francisco Chronicle, which had received the majority of the Zodiac’s letters in 1969-1974, and his co-author’s surname is Tracy, the given name of my housemate in Vallejo of 1973 (vide supra). Felker, whose magazine published my contributions as well as Kilduff and Tracy’s People’s Temple exposé, once taught journalism at Berkeley, my alma mater, which also employed a linguist who published a reference book in which the word “Paradice” appears and whose athletic program was reduced to ruins by my non-support. This plot is so thick you could slice it with a chain saw.

One day in 1974, when Mary Ann and I were running late to get to a performance of Manon Lescaut, we were fearful lest we miss the curtain and have to stand through the first act, so we ran. She tripped and fell, landing on her chin right at Hall McAllister’s feet. She didn’t break anything, but the flesh on her chin was ripped open, and she left a small puddle of blood on the sidewalk. Blood makes very persistent stains, and it took around five years for this one to weather away (I know this because in subsequent years, I monitored its status every time I walked past it on the way to the Opera House). Instead of listening to Manon croak out Sola, perduta, abbandonata as she dies of thirst in the desert of Louisiana, I watched a baseball game on TV in the waiting room of Kaiser San Francisco’s emergency department while Mary Ann got her chin stitched up (the injury left a very unobtrusive little scar on the underside of her chin). Be that as it may, this incident could have been summarized with the headline BOMBSHELL! PENN SPILLS BLOOD AT CITY HALL, a piquantly ambiguous statement, since it does not specify which Penn is meant, and “to spill blood” can be passive (to emit blood from one’s own body) as well as active (to cause another to emit blood), so it covers all the bases. Since it can be read as meaning that I am responsible for an act of violence committed at City Hall, I am surprised that no one has ever made use of it.

Five years later, on 5 October 1979, I was involved in a shooting incident at City Hall and had a confrontation with San Francisco Police Department. Shortly before Mary Ann and I arrived for a performance of Don Carlo, a man broke into an upper-story office in a building overlooking the Civic Center and used a rifle to shoot at pedestrians in order to express his solidarity with the downtrodden peoples of Third World countries. In Act IV of Don Carlo, the Marquis of Posa, the champion of the downtrodden people of the Netherlands, is assassinated with a musket. The report of the firearm and the odor of burned gunpowder, which quickly spread throughout the auditorium, gave us a foretaste, er, foresmell of what awaited us outside. The curtain came down, but the house lights did not go up, and Maestro Kurt Herbert Adler, propped up by his cane and accompanied by a high-ranking SFPD officer resplendent in creaking leather, hobbled out onto stage. He introduced the SFPD officer, who then announced that because of the sniper situation going on outside, no one would be permitted to leave the Opera House through the main entrance facing Van Ness; everyone would have to exit through the carriage entrances at the sides of the building. Our car was in the Civic Center garage on the other side of City Hall, and no one was allowed to cross Van Ness. It was late evening, we had two children left in the care of a babysitter 50 miles away, and we had no way to get home. We knew another couple from Napa who had season tickets the same evening we did (Malcolm and Lisi Reynolds), so we searched the crowd for them; when we found them, we asked if we could hitch a lift with them. They agreed and pointed to where their car was parked; we could see it in the last parking space at the corner of McAllister and Van Ness, on the City Hall side of McAllister — but across the street. A quick flit across Van Ness, and we would be on our way. We were stopped by an SFPD officer; we debated with him, adducing all of our excellent arguments in favor of our plan: the car was right across the street, our homes and children were far away, it was late at night, and so forth. He was obdurate and would not let us pass. Eventually, we borrowed the car of a friend who lived in San Francisco, drove home, and then returned the car the following evening, after the sniper had been apprehended.

The catalogue of my crimes includes literary ones such as overdescription and digression, the preceding paragraph being an egregious example of both, and I apologize. To get back to the subject, let me summarize what we have so far. In 1978, the same year in which I had an extramarital affair with a woman whose aunt had discovered the corpses of the Zodiac’s victims at Lake Herman Road ten years earlier, 900 people were killed at Jonestown, an event to which I am closely linked, and two city officials were assassinated at City Hall, a building with which I am, if anything, even more closely linked (by way of my daughter, my father, my opera subscription, the blood-shedding incident on McAllister Street, my meeting with Sheriff Hongisto, and the Don Carlo shootout).

The City Hall murders of 1978 are the subject of the movie Milk (2008), which includes an excerpt from Giacomo Puccini’s opera Tosca (whose second act ends with the murder of a city official in Napoleonic-era Rome’s equivalent of City Hall, the Palazzo Farnese); Manon Lescaut, which Mary Ann and I missed because one or the other of us was spilling blood at City Hall, is also a Puccini product, and Puccini is a composer who has an unwholesome preoccupation with the morbid: murder by strangulation (Il tabarro), torture (Tosca, Turandot), suicide (Suor Angelica, Madama Butterfly, Tosca), murder of a city official (Tosca again), lynching (La fanciulla del West), death from tuberculosis (La Bohème), and probate fraud (Gianni Schicchi). I have attended many performances of operas by this composer, and I own recordings of his entire oeuvre. I don’t think I need to draw you a picture; anybody who enjoys Puccini has, at best, criminal tendencies.

I have saved the best part for last, because there are people out there who need to read the foregoing before their heads explode from reading the following, which a Saddam Hussein, if he wrote for the National Enquirer, might describe as the mother of all bombshells (“bombshell” used to describe something of trivial importance is an Enquirer staple). Harvey Milk is portrayed in the movie Milk by actor Sean Penn, whose surname is identical to mine. If that isn’t a smoking gun, I don’t know what is.

Not only do Sean Penn and I share a surname; we used to share a county (we both lived in Marin, across the Golden Gate from San Francisco). Even more significant, he and I used to patronize the same bookstore (Book Passage in Corte Madera). I went in there once to pick up a book they had special-ordered for me, and the clerk handed me a book that I didn’t recognize as mine. When I said so, she replied, “Sorry — that one is for Sean; here’s the book you ordered.” To summarize, I have held in my hand a book owned by an actor named Penn who played the part of someone murdered at City Hall along with a mayor supported by the People’s Temple in the same year as the Jonestown massacre and my extramarital affair with the woman whose aunt discovered the bodies of the Zodiac victims at Lake Herman Road ten years earlier.

(A subsidiary riddle to which Internet true-crime buffs will certainly want to apply their investigative skills is what Erle Stanley Gardner would likely have titled The Case of the Substitute Soprano. In the movie, Harvey Milk is shown watching a performance of Tosca in the San Francisco Opera House shortly before his assassination. Catalan soprano Montserrat Caballé sang the title role in SFO’s 1978 season, but only in the first five performances, the last of which was on 25 October. Milk was murdered on 27 November, over a month later. In the last three performances of Tosca, Caballé was replaced by Gwyneth Jones (29 October) and Magda Olivero (22 and 25 November). Jones is Welsh and Olivero was 68 years old at the time. Neither is overweight. The soprano in the movie is overweight — like Caballé — and doesn’t look either Welsh or elderly. I saw Tosca on Friday evening, 20 October 1978, when Caballé was on deck and, just in case anybody’s forgotten, ten years after the aunt of my partner in adultery discovered the corpses of the two Zodiac murder victims at Lake Herman Road. If Milk — who, once again, is played by an actor named Penn living in Marin County, where I lived from 1982 to 2005 — is actually watching Caballé, and if minute analysis of the movie shows that he is sitting in Row N, center orchestra, where my season-ticket seat was, then it must follow as the night the day that he, Tracy Kidder, and I are all the same person masquerading as three different ones.)

Finally, I would like to add a note concerning the cryptological methodology used by certain commentators to incriminate me as a serial murderer; they may have succeeded in removing the first six veils, but penetration of the seventh still eludes their grasp, and to hasten the actualization of justice, I will now disclose what they have so far failed to reveal. My full name, GARETH SEWELL PENN, is an anagram of NELLS GREAT NEPHEW. My maternal grandmother was indeed named Nellie, and her great-nephew would be, if I understand consanguinity correctly, my second cousin. Now, MY SECOND COUSIN is an anagram of I USE NYC CONDOMS, which would indicate that I am a sexually active resident of New York City; I SYNC CONDOM USE suggests that I am employed by a family planning clinic; YOU SIN SOME, DNC means that I am a Republican political activist (DNC = Democratic National Committee); COMEDY IS SO NUNC bespeaks an affinity for Steven Sondheim, the opening number of whose musical A funny thing happened on the way to the Forum — based on Roman dramatist Plautus’ play Miles gloriosus — is “Comedy tonight!” (nunc = Latin “now”); and SOME SOUND CYNIC corresponds to my being in good health but attitudinally acidulous. All of these statements are, of course, very apt descriptions of me, and as in other areas of this investigation (see above), I am surprised that no one has made an issue of them.

I hope that all this will be helpful to those toiling in the vineyard of righteousness, but I anticipate that none of them will even say thank you.

Mr. Farmer seems to be getting to him.

Thanks for making me chuckle Zam!

Thanks Zam! Better forward this to Opard for decoding.

bentley wrote:

Thanks Zam! Better forward this to Opard for decoding.

LOL* Bentley, I would LOVE to, if I had an in. Remember I'm one of those mere bad girls as Farmer
called US for finding out about the wrong map, So NO longer allowed on his site. My Bad!* Maybe Cel can copy and post this over there & then report back to us. Be prepared as there are approximately 3 more pages I will post.
Actually IF you read in between the lines, you never know...are there any clues??? I also think IF anyone
does have any questions, I can see IF Penn would answer them, no guarantees. Maybe Mike M would like
to read and take it over to the Opord !? I like your decoding ...quote! Actually I Do understand some of it
from being on The Opord in the Past. Any thoughts ?

Man, thats a long slow, and mind numbing read

Penn is not the Zodiac.

Zodiac never wrote anything that long, disorganized and rambling!

I don't think they will get it at Opord Zam Put the others up soon

wow - 10 to 15 minutes of my life i will never get back or account for....