It was like a scene out of a movie. On August 31, 1985, Richard Ramirez, the depraved rapist and murderer whom Los Angeles newspapers had dubbed “The Night Stalker,” got off a Greyhound bus in East Los Angeles. He slipped out a back door to evade the undercover LAPD officers waiting for him there and ducked into a convenience store. There, he saw his face plastered on the front page of every newspaper as all eyes turned to him. He took off on foot, running across four lanes of highway traffic and onto the sizzling blacktop of residential streets.
He attempted to steal one car, then another, and was rebuffed by a man named Manuel de la Torre, who grabbed a metal bar from a nearby fence and swung it at the serial killer. A crowd began to gather, crying out in Spanish that this was the man. Dozens of East L.A. residents swarmed Ramirez, beating and punching the self-proclaimed emissary of Satan who had paralyzed the city for the past six months. If a sheriff’s vehicle had not driven up soon after, they probably would have killed him—and no one would have missed him.
That strangely encouraging true story of a community coming together to stop a dangerous predator in its midst is only a small part of Night Stalker: The Hunt For A Serial Killer, Netflix’s latest docuseries about an infamous American bogeyman. Unlike 2019’s Conversations With A Killer, however, the focus here is not on Ramirez himself. His name isn’t even mentioned until the end of the third episode, and only the briefest mention is made of the childhood forces that helped shape him into a monster. Described here as a scarecrow of a man with rotten teeth, a bad odor (one witness describes him smelling like a goat), and terrifying eyes in an AC/DC hat and Members Only jacket, Ramirez lurks in the shadows throughout Night Stalker, his presence unseen but chillingly felt.
Instead, the main characters of the piece are Los Angeles County Sheriff’s Department detectives Frank Salerno and Gil Carrillo, the lead investigators in the hunt for the murderer. Their dynamic is classic cop-movie fodder: Salerno, the hardened veteran famous for his work on an earlier serial killer case, serves as a grizzled counterpart to ambitious family man Carrillo. Born into a devoutly Catholic, Mexican American family in East L.A., Carrillo ends up being the emotional linchpin of the series thanks to the participation of his wife, Pearl. She adds her own memories of the overwhelming fear she felt during the Night Stalker’s reign of terror from March to August 1985, well aware that the perpetrator was reading his own press and knew her husband’s name. When a murder took place less than five minutes from their home, Pearl and the kids took off to an undisclosed location, waiting there until the nightmarish killing spree was over.
The Carrillos are one of multiple families profiled in Night Stalker: Beginning in episode three, the son, daughter-in-law, and granddaughter of murder victim Joyce Nelson appear for extended on-camera interviews, talking about Joyce and the grief and despair that settled over them after her shocking demise. (In one sobering anecdote, Joyce’s eldest granddaughter describes becoming overwhelmed by the description of her grandmother’s death during Ramirez’s trial, only to step out into a hallway full of Ramirez groupies and hangers-on.) The Nelsons are also people of faith, and they talk about how they were able to find, if not meaning, then some form of grace over the years. Along with blood ties, Night Stalker also highlights professional relationships, like the TV news reporter who speaks admiringly of a female colleague who dutifully reported every disturbing detail of the case even though it gave her nightmares.
That’s not to say that this is a wholesome tale in any way. Ramirez targeted everyone from elderly women to young boys for sexual abuse and indiscriminate brutality, and Night Stalker spends significant time deconstructing the crimes that gripped the city throughout that blazingly hot summer. (The first and fourth episodes in particular contain testimony that may be extremely triggering to survivors of sexual assault.) Throughout the series, 3D models are paired with actual crime-scene photographs, which flash across the screen just long enough to be seared into the viewer’s memory forever. Any bleak scraps of hope—a grandmother who fought to the end, a man who chased Ramirez out of his house after taking a bullet in the neck—are scant and hard-won, and are canceled out by devastating details like the young woman who hid from her attacker, only to be shot when she ducked her head out to see if the coast was clear.
Unlike many recent true-crime docuseries, Night Stalker is relatively uninterested in the cultural underpinnings of the Ramirez case, choosing instead to take a procedural approach. Due to the sheer number of people killed, this leads to a numbing effect as horrible death after horrible death marches across the screen in the first three episodes, followed by a rollercoaster of relief and renewed terror in the fourth after Ramirez is caught. A light sprinkling of analysis of—to be blunt—the multiple ways politicians and law enforcement fucked up the manhunt (Dianne Feinstein ends up looking particularly bad) suggests social commentary, but in the end Night Stalker’s critique of cops is much like the sinuous synth music that plays over each episode’s credits: colorful details to set the tone. Instead, the takeaway here is a fable about how the love of his family saved one detective from being overwhelmed by the darkness that ripped so many other families apart. And for Christ’s sake, lock your doors—especially the sliding glass ones.
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“Dianne Feinstein ends up looking particularly bad” should be the title of her biography.
How in the hell has that cretin maintained a senatorship for near 30 years?! What the hell you doing, California?
They’re too busy enjoying a dumpling renaissance to notice.
How many Miya Ponsettos are in California? It seems like the answer to that is too many. Thanks a lot, Miya Ponsetto.
She’s our senatorial equivalent of black mold. Every time you think you’ve gotten rid of it, you just find a new patch hiding somewhere else. Schiff is afraid of her and will only run if she intends to retire (she’ll never do that), De Leon makes a big show of running, but only to make himself more visible for a future gubenatorial race, and McNerny, Lieu, and Sanchez have just been keeping their heads down. (Though honestly, Linda would be kind of awesome in her place.)
Every year that goes by, I lament the fact that Feinstein is still around while Boxer has moved on to becoming a full time lobbyist. Were that those roles were reversed.
Thanks for that info! Comparing her to a blight is pretty fair. For all the complaints we can have towards contemporary Democrats like Booker, Buttigieg, Klobuchar, etc., Feinstein is the worst.
She already lost her committee assignment as judiciary chair, and her own staff have (anonymously) been shit talking (i.e. disclosing their concerns about her cognitive ability) to her press. She’s not making it to 2024.
I can’t believe she’s actually looking to run again, when the reports I’ve read is she’s exhibiting some disturbing early signs of dementia.
It was like a scene out of a movie. […] There, he saw his face plastered on the front page of
every newspaper as all eyes turned to him. […][…]A crowd began to gather, crying out
in Spanish that this was the man. Dozens of East L.A. residents swarmed
Ramirez, beating and punching […] If a sheriff’s vehicle
had not driven up soon after, they probably would have killed him—and no
one would have missed him.Like a scene out of a TV show. I saw that very scene in AHS:1984, and I had no idea until just now that it (more or less) actually happened.
I had the exact same thought! I figured it was just for dramatic effect, now I’m stoked that he really did get the piss beaten out of him.
Did he really murder a dude for being mean to Billie Lourde about liking Billy Idol?
His capture was the scene in every movie where the suspect goes into the convenience store/gas station/and in this case, liquor store and sees themselves on the tv or newspaper.
Hello?
I remember seeing a home remodeling show where the home owner was a female police officer. The designer’s plan was to put a great big sliding door right her in her bedroom out to the garden. She was like “yeah, we’re not gonna do that.”
Reminds me of some lofts in a converted building next door to my office, four or five of them that are street level and each unit exits right out onto a major pedestrian artery that feeds into the market and restaurants, and a big homeless hangout. And when I walk by you can see right into the whole place, as these are studios and one bedrooms. There’s no effing way I’d live in one of those places.
the guy who was shot in the head and then got up and chased him out of the house is a fucking legend
Then Ramirez got a bigger gun.
.22LR and .25 Auto are essential the same ballistically. Slightly heavier bullet going slightly slower. Plenty good enough though.
The real serial killers were the friends we made along the way.
Not a big fan of the production on this series. Some of it felt really sensationalistic and unnecessary, particularly the photographs of the victims.
Maybe I just watch too much true crime stuff, but I’ve seen this criticism that it was so sensationalistic, and I actually thought it was going to be a lot worse. I do think it’s a characteristic we’re apt to see as true crime docs continue on just because more photographs and crime scene evidence tends to exist. The ones that don’t have that tend to be the ones where the guilt or innocent is in question.
Everyone in this doc is just the worrrsst. The detectives—particularly self-mythologizing big dumb Gil—were beyond useless, but sure, tell us more about how savvy you are. It’s tough to narrow down Gil’s biggest face-palming moment; for me it’s not checking your murderer alarm to see if it’s actually, you know, hooked up. My partner was particularly scoff-y about maybe not mailing VHS tapes of yourself revealing key “only the killer knows” details to countless police offices, and then “being really pissed!” when that information is inevitably leaked. Bonus weirdo points to that terrible reporter lady who gives herself the “I’m so brave” treatment for … reporting on the case and attending the trial. God, that must’ve been really tough for you. And something about how your cat stares into your face when you sleep? So you know how it feels to be afraid?
I’m underlining everything you say in your post.I’m also interested in how police from the ‘70s and ‘80s describe their behavior and actions to 21st century audiences. Like, they know the buzzwords that’ll get them canceled, and they spend a lot of time back-patting (which may be their only form of cardio? Picture Gil running after anyone. I dare you) and presenting what they think is the palatable version of the story, rather than the “what really happened” part of the story.Also, if Gil’s wife left him, she is blameless above all things.
Gil might as well be running thumbs under suspenders, like “heh heh, yeeepppp, I sure done good work back then.” In the last episode when he gets weepy, you know, because My Father Would Be Proud and all that, we were screaming WHY?! YOU DIDN’T DO ANYTHINNNG. Aside from live to tell the tale, and it’s obvious he liiiives to tell this tale. The longer it sits with me the more (stupidly, unproductively) rage-y I get. Imagine you were hunting a prolific killer / child rapist, and oh my god—we have his car. His f*cking car! And then … you didn’t immediately take it into your possession because … politics? Territorial disputes with other departments? They said they were going to process it, but then later you realize they hadn’t? And when you eventually put down your sandwich, wipe the crumbs off your belly, and waddle down to the impound lot … the fingerprint evidence has been lost? If this was my PRIMARY FUCKING JOB I would have used bolt cutters to get into that car. Nothing would’ve stopped me. Oh, but hey, you still got the business card! So you placed some officers there … until again, politics, we had to pull them. Oh, but you installed a big novelty button that would alert … someone? You know, if the prolific killer came back, which you assumed he inevitably would. Why didn’t you just give the dentist your fucking phone number, and say call me IMMEDIATELY if he arrives? Or the police. Literally anything would’ve been more effective than the route he chose. But all of his blunders—his stupid, sloppy blunders—are someone else’s fault, and he gets a Netflix documentary to chew the scenery for five hours. GAHHH.And yeah, that shit with his wife. He worked a lot (doing what, god knows), and she almost left him. What a plot twist. Thank you filmmakers for devoting time to that precious acorn.
“WHY?! YOU DIDN’T DO ANYTHINNNG. Aside from live to tell the tale, and it’s obvious he liiiives to tell this tale.”Omg the absolute nothing he did. He could identify a shoe print. Gey gezunt. Meanwhile an entire Mexican neighborhood takes Ramirez down.
And btw, WTF with that scene where I think it was Gil? Maybe I think that because it was so dumb, but anyway Gil says, “We knew we needed another body,” because they’re just collecting footprints at this point. “One more dead person will give us just the footprint we need.”(Also, just an aside: none of those police sketches of Ramirez looked (a) like Ramirez; or (b) anything like each other.)I want this documentary, but only with that Mexican neighborhood as the talking heads and it would be 30 minutes with credits because we wouldn’t have to sit through the police’s D A Y S of nothing and just watch an effective organization provide world class service.
Me again: when you want to talk ALLLLLLL about those goddamn reporters I will be awake until 8pm in the night every night.
I kind of liked that the family drama was so shitty. Better than painting this super complicated thing that was getting in the way a la NBC. That being said I might be biased for them because they looked so so Mexican. She looks like 85% of the grandmothers I’ve seen in my life.
The main thing that pissed me off, which to me was outrageous was that there was no mention of Alejandro Espinoza. The other thing that made me bias is that I knew of Gil Carrillo because he appeared in Unsolved Mysteries (one of my favorite shows as a child) in a segment looking for Espinoza to collect his reward because he was key in finding out about Ramirez. It was the first thing I knew about the case and the fact that he wasn’t mentioned at all or that the fact his case (he has never been found) would be a lot more interesting than stuff like the BS story about the SF cop punching a guy who looked like a mini flyweight weight division guy at best.
The real Night Stalker was the friends we made along the way.
A worthwhile watch. Not cheaply sensational but very grounded in it’s approach to the hideous deeds committed by Ramirez.
For all the work that Frank and Gil put in, if it wasn’t for that photo being released, which they were against, Ramirez may not have been caught so quickly.
They make L.A. look terrifying. Unlike Chicago or Houston or even New York, people purposely go to Los Angeles to do weird witchy ass shit. What struck me was how easy it seemed to break into these houses. Just peel back a screen I guess. Or maybe it’s because L.A. gets so hot in the summer. The smoking hot groupie in the court room toward the end made perfect sense.