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The Ocampos chose to engrave it with the Marines Corps motto, Semper Fidelis, above a quote that Itzcoatl had listed as his favorite in his high school yearbook: Brunette Alice March with small boobs and hairless bush does striptease before she sticks sex toy in her wet spot: Group and wild sex party in the hotel room Mar 4th, I know that this was very unprofessional, dangerous, irresponsible, and idiotic of me. At the sound of footsteps, Middaugh awoke and stood up. Terrified British tourist, 31, is stabbed six times during gang attack in Magaluf and barricades himself in Itzcoatl never saw combat, I pointed out.


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Refugio found a new job in a plastics factory. Homeless people were frequent targets of random violence. He wore clean white shirts that peeked out from beneath a blue all-weather jacket and kept his gaunt face impeccably shaved beneath a bowl of dark hair. At the sound of footsteps, Middaugh awoke and stood up. Refugio assumed that the over-the-top story of a madman with a knife had been made up, or at least exaggerated. Smit walked out of the library, went around back, and sat down in an obscured spot near the bottom of a stairwell to wait for his daughter. Itzcoatl struggled to hold down a job. She relied on friends and family to care for Itzcoatl while she studied English, but she never mastered it. A whole family had been murdered, she told him, and a grandfather and his young grandson were inside the box, about to be buried together. He never resented his dramatic occupational shift. An amateur astronomer and bird watcher, Berry loved being outside, where he could look at the sky day or night. Among them was John Berry, a Vietnam veteran who sported a bushy white beard. Itzcoatl was in Iraq when his family began to splinter. In the following days, he called the police to say that he felt like he was being watched as he moved among his favorite haunts in Anaheim and Yorba Linda. Still, Lilia stood by her struggling husband, bringing him food and clothes at homeless camps and, later, at the abandoned rig. Adjusting to civilian life had proved difficult. Itzcoatl Ocampo visited his father again not long after the third murder. By the winter of , he was back living with his mother. Lilia carried Itzcoatl in her arms, handing him off to another traveler when she had to jump a fence to reach the United States. When he was six, his mother brought him to a window of their home to watch men walking in the street bearing a large box. He stabbed Smit 56 times in the back, head, and neck, fracturing his ribcage, slashing his heart, and severing his jugular vein. On the contrary, he felt liberated. This time, instead of press clippings, he carried an FBI flier emblazoned with photographs of the victims. Sometimes he drove as far as Van Nuys or Santa Monica, about 45 miles north, to drop off supplies with organizations. The assailant started out using one hand, then expertly passed the blade, a heavy-gauge Ka-Bar knife capable of piercing bone, to the other. For a week, Orange County held its breath. Fifty-three years old, with a furrowed face, a graying beard, and disheveled, thinning hair, McGillivray was a familiar presence in the homeless community that lived along the Santa Ana River south of Los Angeles. Orange County had a serial killer, targeting a population that was difficult to protect from harm under even the best of circumstances. In , he married a woman named Lilia. What if McGillivray and Middaugh had died at the hands of one man at the start of a spree? Lilia faced a steeper learning curve. Six years later, Lilia gave birth to a second son, Mixcoatl, named after the Aztec god of the hunt. She crossed the border with a group of men in the early hours of a cold, dark morning. The killer must have seen it, because Berry, 64, quickly sensed that something was wrong. A yellow bicycle was parked such that it afforded him some shade from the winter sun while he listened to Lynch explain the threat. At the time, though, the idea was a hard sell among law-enforcement officials. Through much of , the year-old shared a dilapidated home with his girlfriend, but when authorities red-tagged the house, indicating that it was uninhabitable, Smit suddenly had no place to live. Unable to find a job or a home, he lived in local shelters. The Ocampos encouraged cultural assimilation. It was an eloquent image: Berry sitting comfortably on a tarp with his legs outstretched and a rumpled khaki fishing hat perched on his head. When the confrontation ended, a full five minutes later, Middaugh was dead. According to the National Coalition for the Homeless, between and there had been nearly 1, attacks nationwide, with California seeing the largest share of any state. No homeless men were murdered. A wiry figure dressed in a dark hooded sweatshirt and gloves stood in the shadows of a nearby alleyway, watching and waiting. The story of the serial killer leaped from the pages of the Orange County Register to national outlets. Instead of venturing away on foot, Smit phoned his youngest daughter to ask for a ride.

Get unlimited access to The Atavist Magazine and enjoy any story from our award-winning catalog, along with a new title every month. Donny Hopkins, a forklift driver who was shopping in the pharmacy, darted out to the parking lot and saw the assailant on top of Berry. Itzcoatl, a funny, independent boy, eventually became a citizen. Berry said that he would be just fine as he was, even with a serial killer on the prowl.

He pinned the homeless man down with a knee to the chest and unleashed a shocking barrage of violence. On the morning of January 5, , he was in a public rest area overlooking the Santa Ana River when Anaheim Police sergeant Mike Lynch approached him. Wyatt took the lead. In hindsight it became obvious that the murders were linked.

He wanted to earn his pay through labor. Police again advised Berry to seek shelter, and again he did not. He is also a news anchor for Univision. Quick to laugh, with a gap-toothed smile, long wavy hair, and an overgrown goatee, Paulus Cornelius Smit had battled drug addiction and drifted in and out of homelessness for several years.

Refugio wanted a better life, and a safer one. He caught up with a cousin who was already in Orange County and found work as a dishwasher. Among them was Eder Herrera, who would later wind up behind bars, accused of killing his own mother and brother in a fit of domestic violence.

He taught me everything. Finally, he grasped the weapon with both hands and pounded away at his victim. It was the last light McGillivray would ever see. The victim was Lloyd Middaugh, 42, a registered sex offender. Lilia joined him two months later. He screamed at the attacker, who immediately stood up and ran toward a mobile-home park adjacent to the shopping center.

And the criminal was growing more brazen. Yet with the holiday season in full swing, he donated what cash, toys, and food he could to the needy. When Itzcoatl showed Refugio articles about the recent murders of homeless men, he implored his father to keep his guard up. Customers milled around the complex, and one of them witnessed the murder in progress. A week later it happened again, this time underneath an overpass in Anaheim, about five miles southwest of Placentia. Nothing will happen to me. Refugio thought his son generous. Itzcoatl was known as Izzy to his friends, Mixcoatl as Mix. He worried about Refugio and visited him often at the rig, where they talked about life before war, addiction, and other hardships. Refugio purchased a letter attesting that he had worked in the fields of Southern California, which afforded him permanent residency under a federal stipulation offering certain types of workers a path to legalization. Then Middaugh, who was six-foot-four and weighed more than pounds, roosted under the 91 freeway and read a book until he fell asleep. If Smit screamed, no one heard him. This time, though, the attacker was sloppy in choosing where to kill. He practiced English and read up on American history in his free time. According to family members he fell prey to drugs, developing an addiction to methamphetamines that made him volatile and untrustworthy. He passed the time drinking with old friends. Refugio was no stranger to violence. On the afternoon of December 30, while at the library, he realized that his bike had been stolen. Refugio asked what it all meant. He bought a small house and, after earning a job promotion, upgraded to a larger one. The same kind of knife had been used in both murders, which were uncommonly vicious. In the span of two minutes, he stabbed McGillivray 52 times in the upper torso and head. After desperately flailing his arms and legs, McGillivray died within the first 40 seconds of the attack. They lived in greater Mexico City, where he taught history in a public school. Refugio tried to reassure him. Citlaly had to settle for the less colloquial Citla. There were brief reprieves: He spent Christmas, for instance, with Julia Smit-Lozano, the eldest of three daughters from a previous relationship, who had recently escaped homelessness herself. Itzcoatl was shy and bespectacled. When McGillivray dozed off, the figure pounced. A few miles from the crime scenes, in the city of Fullerton, Refugio Ocampo lived in the cab of a broken-down truck with smashed headlights.
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