SAN FRANCISCO (Sept. 1) – The man accused of abducting and sexually abusing Jaycee Lee Dugard testified during a previous kidnapping and rape case that he prowled through residential neighborhoods as a Peeping Tom and fantasized about raping women.
During his 1977 kidnapping trial, Phillip Garrido also said he leered at girls as young as seven and 10, and he admitted to exposing himself to some of them.
He testified that LSD and cocaine acted as sexual stimulants, and that he frequently masturbated and often in public places including the “side of schools, grammar schools and high schools, in my own car while I was watching young females.”
The portrait of the 58-year-old Garrido comes from trial transcripts and a psychiatric report from unrelated case files made public Monday, as well as TV interviews broadcast Tuesday. In that case, Garrido was convicted in Reno, Nev., of kidnapping a stranger. He later admitted to raping her in a rented storage unit described by investigators as a “sex palace” with items for playing out his sexual fantasies.
Garrido and his wife Nancy are being held in El Dorado County on charges that they kidnapped and raped Dugard, then held her captive at their Antioch home for the past 18 years even as parole officers and police occasionally turned up at his house.
Other women have reported violent attacks in the past. Garrido’s ex-wife and high school sweetheart, Christine Murphy, said he went into a jealous rage once when he saw a man flirting with her.
“He took a safety pin and went after my eyes,” Christine Murphy told “Inside Edition.” “He left a scar on my face.”
In the kidnapping trial from more than three decades ago, Garrido admitted to abducting and raping the woman he was accused of kidnapping, saying: “I have had this fantasy, and this sexual thing that has overcome me.”
He testified that he did not think what he did was wrong.
“I had this fantasy that was driving me to do this, inside of me; something that was making me want to do it without — no way to stop it,” he said.
The victim testified that Garrido also discussed his sexual fantasies while driving her to the storage area, where he assaulted her for more than five hours until a police officer knocked on the unit’s door after becoming suspicious of the victim’s car parked nearby.
She said she was taking dinner to her boyfriend’s house when Garrido tapped on her window as she was pulling out of a food market and told her his car broke down. He asked for a ride and attacked her shortly afterward, handcuffing and binding her before driving her to his Reno storage unit.
“He slammed my head into the steering wheel. He grabbed my keys and threw them onto the floor,” Katie Callaway Hall said on ABC’s “Good Morning America Tuesday.
Hall said Garrido handcuffed her, tied her head to her knees and took her to a warehouse storage shed filled with pornography, sex toys and a mattress.
“He roughed me up, but I pretty much blocked out all the rape,” she told ABC.
She told the jury that she asked Garrido why she was chosen, and he responded: “It just happened that you happened to be attractive, and that is a fault in this case in your case, you know, at this time.”
The prosecutor, outside the presence of the jury, told the court that Garrido was suspected of attempting to kidnap another woman an hour before he succeeded. That woman escaped, according to the prosecutor.
Garrido served 10 years in a federal prison in Leavenworth, Kan., before being granted parole. He then served seven months for the rape conviction in a Nevada prison before being granted an early release in August 1988. Less than three years later, he allegedly kidnapped Dugard in 1991 when she was 11.
He was returned to prison in April 1993 for an undisclosed parole violation and was released again four months later.
The court documents come from his testimony on Feb. 10, 1977, after a judge turned down his attorney’s bid to declare him insane because of his heavy drug use.
Dr. Lynn Gerow, a court-appointed psychiatrist examined him in December 1976 and found him competent to stand trial. His three-page report to the judge described Garrido as tall, thin and “unkempt.”
Gerow said Garrido was the second of two siblings, reported emotional conflict with his parents in his formative years, and later worked on and off as a musician and increasingly abused drugs, including LSD. He was married at the time to a casino dealer.
“He was preoccupied with the idea of sex and admitted to a history of several sexual disorders,” the doctor said, adding that he believed Garrido suffered from “a mixed sexual deviation and chronic drug abuse.”
“The latter may be responsible in part for the former,” he said.
In a neurological report on Jan. 6, 1977, Dr. Albert F. Peterman found no hard evidence of brain damage.
“LSD made him quite aggressive, which he realizes,” the doctor noted. “He had used LSD prior to his alleged offense, but remembers the details of the abduction and sexual activity quite well.”
The doctor said Garrido had appropriate concern about his criminal case. “He states that he is looking forward to going to court, and has found religion and feels his life will change for the better.”
Shortly before Garrido took the witness stand in his trial, the prosecutor told the judge, “We think by pointing to and questioning the defendant about prior specific acts prior to this incident, we can show he is following a pattern of attempting to kidnap and attempting to, and raping, other women.” He did not elaborate.
Garrido was 25 and described himself as “very happily” married at the time. “She is beautiful,” he said of his wife.
He said he started using marijuana and LSD within a month of high school graduation and that he was arrested in 1969 for drug use. He said he also used cocaine and other “uppers and downers.”
He said he did not believe he was harming his victim, even though he handcuffed her, bound her and taped her mouth shut before raping her.
“I don’t go breaking into people’s houses,” he said. “I don’t go to hurt anybody.”
He said he was working with a minister in jail “getting close to God.” He told his own attorney that before finding God, “I couldn’t feel shame,” for the rape. “I didn’t even realize the reality of shame for what I was doing.”
He talked briefly about his upbringing, testifying that his parents never beat him and stopped disciplining him after he turned 10.
“My father never did take any restrictions of beating me or disciplining me, and my mother spoiled me,” he said.
Hall, Garrido’s former victim, told ABC that with Garrido behind bars again, she can live her life without fear.
Her advice in Dugard’s case: “Let her cry, let her talk. It’s going to be a long road.”
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LAS VEGAS — In Room 519 of Kindred Hospital, Linda Rivera can no longer speak.
Her mute state, punctuated only by groans, is the latest downturn in the swift collapse of her health that began in May when she curled up on her living room couch and nonchalantly ate several spoonfuls of the Nestlé cookie dough her family had been consuming for years. Federal health officials believe she is among 80 people in 31 states sickened by cookie dough contaminated with a deadly bacteria, E. coli O157:H7.
The impact of the infection has been especially severe for Rivera and nine other victims who developed a life-threatening complication known as hemolytic uremic syndrome. One, a 4-year-old girl from South Carolina, had a stroke and is partially paralyzed.
The E. coli victims are among millions — one in four Americans — sickened by food-borne illnesses each year. As waves of recalls have caused the public to lose confidence in the safety of food, lawmakers are scrambling to respond. In July, the House approved legislation that would give the Food and Drug Administration broad new powers and place new responsibilities on food producers. The bill would speed up the ability of health officials to track down the source of an outbreak and give the government the power to mandate a recall, rather than rely on food producers to voluntarily pull tainted products from the shelves.
The Senate is expected to take up its version in the fall, and the issue has become a high priority for the White House.
It is impossible to say whether new laws and tougher enforcement would have prevented the contamination of the Nestlé cookie dough, which the company voluntarily pulled from stores hours after the government linked it to the outbreak.
Last week, chilled packages of the chocolate-chip cookie dough returned to supermarkets after a two-month absence as company executives tried in vain to find the cause of the contamination. They scrubbed their production plant, bought new ingredients and started making dough again.
Linda Rivera has just been trying to stay alive. Her cascading problems started about seven days after she ate the dough when her kidneys shut down and she went into septic shock. Then doctors had to remove part of her colon, which had become contaminated. Soon, her gallbladder was inflamed and had to be excised. Shortly after, her liver stopped functioning. It is unclear exactly what is causing her loss of speech, although the toxin produced by the E. coli O157:H7 bacteria can attack the brain.
Of all the victims, Rivera has spent the most time in hospitals — about 120 days since May. She was recovering well enough at one point to go home for nine days but, during that reprieve, she had to be rushed to the emergency room three times.
Her case is unusual because E. coli O157:H7 tends to most seriously affect the very young and old. At 57, Linda Rivera is not part of either vulnerable group. Her situation is also unique for the number of major organs that have been injured. Her family and one of her physicians said she had no underlying health problems that would have exacerbated the infection.
“Once these patients get into a downward spiral, it’s hard to pinpoint why things go wrong,” said Michael Gross, a kidney specialist who has treated Rivera. “The chances of her coming out of the hospital and getting into a normal life cycle are low.”
The Rivera family never gave much thought to food-borne illness. “You watch a commercial, you go into a store and you just assume it’s okay to eat,” said Linda’s husband, Richard, a sales manager for a Web site. “I assume if it’s on a shelf, it’s safe. But this whole thing has changed the way I look at food.”
Among the pathogens that can harm human health, E. coli O157:H7 is one of the most lethal, and there is no known cure. The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention estimates about 70,000 people are infected annually with E. coli O157:H7, but the actual number is unknown because many illnesses go unreported.
“People just don’t really understand how horrible food-borne illness is,” said William Marler, a prominent Seattle-based food-safety lawyer who is representing the Rivera family and 23 other victims in the cookie dough outbreak. “They think food-borne illness is a tummy ache and diarrhea.”
E. coli O157:H7 is typically associated with beef because the bacteria lives in the intestines of cows, goats and other ruminants. But in recent years, the bacteria has turned up in unexpected places, such as spinach and other leafy greens, and, now, cookie dough.
Linda Rivera was a high school teacher’s aide who was always in motion, cheering her sons at their soccer games and wrestling and track meets, ferrying her twin teenage boys across town to playing fields and skate parks. Now she struggles to hold up her head. Her communication is reduced to shaky hand signals; she turns her right thumb up or down slightly in answer to her husband’s questions.
Richard Rivera’s eyes well up when he contrasts the exhausted, gaunt woman lying askew in the hospital bed with the bubbly blonde he married 12 years ago. It was a second marriage for both, and they each brought three children to the union. “We called ourselves the Brady Bunch,” he said.
A bearish man in sneakers, shorts and a baseball cap, he spends his days and nights in Room 519, rubbing Linda’s feet, dabbing her eyes with a cool washcloth and trying to spoon-feed her medication. He sleeps fitfully in a chair by her bed.
He holds up both sides of the conversation.
“Are you hot?” he asked Friday. “Give me a thumbs up if you’re hot.” He watched as Linda shakily turned her right thumb upward. “Okay, baby, do you want the blanket off your leg? Linda, you’re turning red. Are you breathing? Okay, I just wanted to make sure.”
Linda Rivera is so weak, she can’t suck on a straw long enough to draw liquid out of a cup. She is being fed nutrients intravenously.
Once the CDC made the link between the outbreak of E. coli illness and Nestlé cookie dough in June, Nestlé immediately recalled about 3.6 million packages at a cost of $30 million to $50 million, according to Laurie McDonald, a company spokeswoman.
The company and FDA investigators focused on Nestlé’s Danville, Va., plant, which produces all its refrigerated cookie dough. E. coli O157:H7 was not found in the plant or on equipment but was detected among the samples of dough that Nestlé routinely sets aside for analysis. However, the contaminated dough had a different genetic fingerprint than the strain that caused the national outbreak, puzzling company officials.
In consultation with the FDA, Nestlé bought new supplies of flour, eggs and margarine and restarted production July 7, McDonald said. The revived product, which is packaged with a “New Batch” label and a prominent warning against eating raw cookie dough, went on sale last week. It is too early to track sales, McDonald said.
Nestlé “is aware of Mrs. Rivera’s illness and our thoughts and prayers are with her and her family,” McDonald said. She said the company has been in contact with the Rivera family through Marler and “we have offered support to the family.” She declined to elaborate.
Neither Richard Rivera nor Marler would say whether Nestlé has made any payments. Linda Rivera has not filed a lawsuit against Nestlé, although three of Marler’s clients have.
In the three months since she fell ill, Linda Rivera missed her 18-year-old son J.J.’s high school graduation. She missed Mother’s Day. Her stepsister unexpectedly died last week, but Richard hasn’t told Linda, not wanting to add to her stress.
When friends or family relieve him from his post inside Room 519, Richard stands in the 107-degree heat outside the hospital and takes deep drags on Marlboro Lights. At twilight Friday, one of those friends, Greg Van Houten, joined him on the sidewalk.
“What do you think, Greg?” Richard asked.
“I think she’s dying,” Van Houten said.
Richard nodded. His eyes filled with tears.
Moments passed. The two men went back inside the air-conditioned hospital. In Linda’s room, her husband, her sons, neighbors and friends formed a small circle around her bed. In yellow hospital gowns and face masks, they clasped hands and prayed for her return to health.
“You made it this far — don’t give up on us, Mom,” said Tony, one of her 17-year-old twin boys, who sniffled beneath his face mask. “You’ve done everything for me in my life.”
Since May, there have been several moments when Richard thought he might lose his wife. Each time, she rebounded, and then relapsed. “That’s how it’s been through this whole thing,” he said. “You feel like you’re taking five steps forward and then three steps backward.”
He is hoping for another, final rebound.
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