Home » Society Crime » Murder Crime » Serial Murder Crime » Serial Killers and Murderers » Glatman Murray Serial Killer » Harvey Murray Glatman Harvey Murray Glatman in Crimes Prevention & Resource Directory

By that hot July night in 1958, Harvey Glatman had raped and killed two females. He had come to enjoy it. But, now, since it had been seven months since his last crime, and the police so far had not shown up at his door, he resolved he was overdue for a little more fun. He was ready, boiling. Tonight he was going to take the life of another woman.Having parked his clunker, the Dodge, halfway down her street, Pico Street, Harvey strolled the rest of the way to her door recalling his old, familiar line, the joephotographer bit he had used on the others; the freelance photographer ruse that had worked so well. Knocking the elements of his masquerade together in his head, he practiced under his breath just what he was going to say when this Angela Rojas opened the door to let him in. Of course, half the battle was won already. He had done it by phone: had called up the agency she worked for, said he wanted a model to pose for some fashion layouts, and made arrangements to do the layout at her house. Of course, the agency and he both knew exactly what that meant — to take nudie pictures. But, as long as he had the cash to pay and as long as there were whores like this Rojas willing to strip for some horny shutterbug until their real break came along here in Hollywood, no one asked questions. Credentials werent needed. All that mattered was that everybody won: The chicks got paid; the agency got its percentage and the guy who forked over the dough walked away with pornographic freeze frames.As before, he used a phony name, this time Frank Wilson. Hell, he had to After all, the models he chose would never come back alive and he couldnt invite the LAPD to his door, now could he Inside the apartment, 24yearold Ruth Mercado — who used the pseudonym Angela Rojas whenever she took a modeling assignment — peered out the window and saw Frank Wilson rounding her walkway. Yuck, she thought, what a loser and knew exactly what kind of layout this dude would conjure up. Take off your clothes and look sexy Smile now Show me what ya got Mercado had come from New York months previously to hit the big time here in West Hollywood, hoping she would get discovered — but her dream of being the next Marilyn Monroe or Sandra Dee never materialized. With no aspirations for waiting tables or cashiering, Los Angeles of 1958 didnt offer much more for a girl who found such occupations too menial. Reduced to a photographers model, she at least was able to avoid the humdrum and still be able to pay the rent and eat thanks to the photographers who, like Wilson, couldnt get a real woman of their own.As long as they never touched her — she was no prostitute on that she was firm. But, as the agency told her when she first started accepting these assignments, Just pose and take the suckers cash.A knock at the door; she opened it, forced a smile at Frank Wilson, and asked him to step inside. Cripe, up close he was uglier than she thought. Large ears that stuck out like Dumbos, ungroomed hair and a pair of squinty eyes behind thick hornrimmed glasses.

 

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