“You turn the wheel like this,” she said, reaching over me.
“What will they think of next?”
“That’s a lot of Herald-Examiner,” she said. “You looking for something specific.”
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
“Try me.”
“I’m a detective, investigating a murder that took place in the early eighties.”
A little skeptical, she said, “Good luck, Sherlock,” and walked away, stealing my gaze.
Then I faced the music. I started turning the spools slowly, in search of the killing of Reynaldo Durazo on April 7, 1984, followed by the slaying of Emil Elkaim in prison and the disappearance and death of Cynthia Persky. With every crank of the wheel, the past glowed up in illuminated black and white, stories about the upcoming Olympics, the space shuttle Discovery, Michael Jackson’s hair going up in flames—and then I hit pay dirt.
…the high school–aged Latino was reported to have sold narcotics to…
…nicknamed “Rey-Rey” by his street gang…
…was heard to call out the notorious gang provocation, “Where you from?”…
…neighbors called in the incident at approximately 11:00 p.m….
…officer on duty examining the crime scene noted…
…the weapon, discovered in the trunk of the teen’s MG, revealed traces…
…the victim’s parents have openly condemned…
…Police Chief Gates calls for expedient…
My pulse quickened. I picked up the pace. One spool later:
LA Herald-Examiner, June 17, 1984
EMIL ELKAIM, PRIMARY SUSPECT IN DURAZO SLAYING, KILLED AT MEN’S CENTRAL
…at a time when the California Department of Corrections is under scrutiny from the U.S. Department of Justice, the circumstances surrounding the 18-year-old’s death provide yet another stark portrait of the inadequate staffing, policies, and…
And then, with a turn of the wheel, that was it—two lives, gone in a flash, without an afterthought.
I spooled on, hoping for something, anything. More Olympics, “Council Dilutes Workplace Smoking Law,” Ronnie Reagan giving the thumbs-up. Then it slammed me:
LA Herald-Examiner, November 21, 1984
CHEVIOT HILLS RUNAWAY STILL MISSING.
Cynthia Persky, the young woman who went missing shortly after a fatal altercation in her parents’ backyard in April, has not been found, according to the office of Police Chief Daryl Gates. She was last seen wearing dark jeans, a light-colored blouse with long sleeves, and white sneakers. If you have any information concerning this person, please contact your local FBI office or the nearest American Embassy or Consulate.
My heart skipped two beats and I scrolled forward, frantic, like someone racing to the end of a scary dream, and then, three spools later:
LA Herald-Examiner, November 26, 1987
CHEVIOT HILLS RUNAWAY, DEAD AT 21
Cynthia Persky, the local teenager who fled her home after a murder took place in her parents’ backyard in spring of 1984, has been found dead of a heroin overdose in Mendocino County. Called “Cinnamon” by family and friends, she is survived by parents Herbert and Marjorie Persky.
Behind the microfiche light was her photo, the Cinnamon I knew, a doe-eyed beauty of the eleventh grade with skin as pale as winter sunlight, a straight-haired redhead whose freckles seemed to float in the ether of her rosy cheeks, and all at once, it came back to me in a rush, our day at Disneyland. Emil’s beat-up MG Roadster broke down about fifteen minutes outside Anaheim, and after much tinkering, we only entered the park in the very late afternoon, just as a light rain started to fall. Disneyland was otherworldly under wet gray skies, near empty, with half the rides shuttered. Maya and I couldn’t care less—we were in the presence of the Golden Teens and every minute was paradise. I couldn’t remember what rides we rode, but I remember Cin’s warm smile under the Tomorrowland awning as she held my hand, her laugh when Emil went goofing off with some dancing Mickey Mouse in a see-through plastic poncho. She loved him so, she—
Then another memory flashed—that night, almost home. Just before they dropped us off, Emil said he had to run a quick errand, meet some guys near the high school, it would only take a minute. Now, Cinnamon, Maya, and I sat in the MG and watched as Emil exchanged some bags and some cash. Just who was paying and who was buying wasn’t clear, but when he got back in the car, he turned to us and said, “We don’t need to talk about this to my parents—or yours.”
I looked around the vast, quiet library. Outside the big windows, the rain was falling steady. Something told me to keep scrolling, desperation or a hunch. And then:
LA Herald-Examiner Obituaries
December 10, 1988
HERBERT ALFRED PERSKY, STUDIO EXEC WHO TWICE RAN FOR CITY COUNCIL, IS DEAD AT 62
Herbert Alfred Persky, the Columbia Tri-Star CEO who was responsible for dozens of Hollywood’s most popular “teensploitation” films, has died of a massive coronary. He is survived by his wife, Marjorie Persky.
I clicked off the whirring machine and pulled out my cell phone. A Google run on Marjorie Persky coughed up an Intelius page—she was seventy-eight and still the listed owner at 2825 Medill Place, scene of the crime. Something about the street name hit me funny and then I scrolled back on the phone.
Goosebumps.
Devon Hawley Junior had two listings—Steam World Studios in Commerce, and the pad on Lobdell in Echo Park.
But Devon Hawley Senior lived at 2821 Medill Place, two houses over from Marjorie Persky.
