The killer in this case walked the streets of Los Angeles and New York carrying a camera,

smiling at strangers, charming anyone who crossed his path.

To most, he looked like a quiet, ambitious photographer, but in reality, hidden in his storage locker were stacks of photographs,

some of women posing innocently, others frozen in fear. And for years, the justice system

allowed him to walk free again and again and again. This is Redrum, stories about the true victims of crime.

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Today's episode is a bit of a longer one,

so I've split it into two parts,

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On September 25, 1968, Talley Shapiro was eight years old.

It was a hazy, warm morning, sitting around 31 degrees.

Tally was walking down the glittering stretch of Sunset Boulevard,

her small shoes clicking against the pavement.

Her family's home had burned down weeks earlier, and now they were living in a temporary refuge wrapped in the shadows of Hollywood legend.

The hotel had seen its share of wild stories, actors, scandals, whispered secrets. But for Talley, it was just another strange place to call home whilst the world felt unsteady.

She's just eight years old at this point and everything she's ever known is suddenly different.

Talley moved along the boulevard, backpack slung over her shoulders, unaware that someone was watching her.

A beige car rolled up beside her.

The man behind the wheel looked ordinary enough, scruffy, quiet, almost forgettable. He asked if she wanted a ride. Talley shook her head. Stranger danger, sure, but of course we're in the late

60s. So actually, that term had only just been coined and it wasn't yet a widespread safety

message like it is today. So it's hardly

...