Zodiac Killer: The Night Paul Stine Died

A cab pulls up to the intersection of Washington and Cherry Streets in the Presidio Heights neighborhood of San Francisco. It’s just after 9:55 p.m. on October 11, 1969. Moments later, gunshots echo out, and a cab driver named Paul Stine is slumped over the steering wheel, fatally wounded. Within minutes, three teenagers watch from a nearby window as a man calmly wipes the cab, takes something from the victim, and walks away into the night.

Paul Stine was a 29-year-old San Francisco cab driver. He had picked up his passenger in the city’s theater district, a little after 9:45 p.m. Stine was a part-time cabbie, working to support college expenses. He was known for his quiet, dependable nature. On this night, he’d driven a yellow taxicab—vehicle #912—through the city’s bustling downtown, unaware that his next fare would be his last.

San Francisco in 1969 was a city on edge. The Summer of Love had given way to darker undercurrents—rising crime rates, protests, and a sense of unease that touched every neighborhood. In the months leading up to Paul Stine’s murder, a string of violent attacks had rocked the surrounding Bay Area. The killer targeted young couples parked in secluded areas: David Faraday and Betty Lou Jensen were shot dead on Lake Herman Road on December 20, 1968. Darlene Ferrin and Michael Mageau were attacked on July 4, 1969 at Blue Rock Springs Park; Ferrin died, Mageau survived.

From the start, there was a pattern: the victims were often young, the attacks sudden and brutal, and the locations remote. The killer’s methods varied—sometimes using a handgun, other times a knife. On September 27, 1969, Bryan Hartnell and Cecelia Shepard were stabbed near Lake Berryessa. Hartnell survived, but Shepard died two days later. By the time Paul Stine picked up his last fare, stories of a terrifying, elusive killer were already circulating in the San Francisco Chronicle, the Vallejo Times-Herald, and the San Francisco Examiner.

On the night of October 11, 1969, Stine’s passenger instructed him to drive to Presidio Heights, a wealthy residential area. The official destination written in the cab log was the intersection of Washington and Maple. Instead, the cab stopped one block further west—at Washington and Cherry. Witnesses reported that shortly after the cab pulled over, a single gunshot rang out. The bullet struck Paul Stine in the head, killing him instantly.

Three teenagers, siblings living in a second-story house facing the intersection, watched as the passenger leaned over Stine’s body, appearing to wipe the cab’s interior. They later remembered seeing the man reach into the cab and take something—they would later learn it was a piece of Stine’s bloodstained shirt. The killer then calmly exited the vehicle, walked north along Cherry Street, and disappeared into the dark.

Within minutes, police responded to a 911 call from the teenage witnesses. Patrol cars rushed to the scene. Officers discovered Paul Stine’s lifeless body slumped over the steering wheel, his wallet and keys still present. The cash from his last fare—just $6—remained in the cab. The only item missing was a section of Stine’s shirt, cut loose with a knife.

The murder was immediately treated as a robbery gone wrong, but details quickly complicated that theory. The precise, almost clinical removal of the shirt fragment suggested the killer intended to take a trophy. Witnesses described a white male, about 35 to 45 years old, barrel-chested, with a round face, glasses, and close-cut brown hair. The teenagers’ account was detailed and credible, but a police dispatcher mistakenly broadcast a description of an African-American suspect to responding officers. This error likely allowed the true killer to slip past police as they canvassed the area.

The day after the crime, the San Francisco Chronicle received a letter from the killer. It was postmarked October 13, 1969. The letter included a piece of Paul Stine’s blood-soaked shirt and a chilling message: “This is the Zodiac speaking.” He claimed responsibility for the murder, taunted police, and threatened to attack a school bus, writing, “Just shoot out the front tire & then pick off the kiddies as they come bouncing out.”

This was not the first time the Zodiac had written to the press. On August 1, 1969, three separate Bay Area newspapers received nearly identical letters from the killer, each containing one-third of a 408-symbol cryptogram. In these letters, the writer demanded publication on the front page and warned that if his requests were ignored, he would go on a killing spree. On August 8, 1969, Donald and Bettye Harden, a schoolteacher and his wife from Salinas, cracked the cipher. It revealed a deeply disturbing message: “I like killing people because it is so much fun…”

The Zodiac’s letters were always signed with a symbol—a circle and a cross, resembling a gunsight. The letters typically began, “This is the Zodiac speaking.” He boasted, threatened, and played games with police and reporters. He made wild claims: on one occasion, he said he killed 37 people, though police have only confirmed five murders and two attempted murders. He included ciphers, clues, and sometimes bloody trophies taken from his victims.

Stine’s murder marked a chilling shift in the Zodiac’s pattern. Previous attacks had targeted couples in cars, often at night, in isolated locations. The Stine killing was different: a single male victim, murdered in a residential neighborhood, and for the first time in San Francisco proper. The killer seemed to relish the escalation—he even claimed in a later letter that he had spoken with police just minutes after the attack, taunting them for their failure to catch him.

In the days after Paul Stine’s murder, the investigation intensified. San Francisco police detectives pored over the cab crime scene, dusting for fingerprints and collecting blood samples. The teenagers’ eyewitness accounts were meticulously recorded, and composite sketches were distributed across the city. The cab was impounded and examined for forensic evidence. Officers canvassed the neighborhood, interviewing dozens of residents and seeking out anyone who had seen or heard anything unusual that night.

The Zodiac’s communications continued. On November 8, 1969, he sent a 340-character cipher to the San Francisco Chronicle. The cipher remained unsolved for over 50 years, baffling both cryptography experts and amateur sleuths. The very next day, he mailed another letter with an excerpt of Paul Stine’s shirt, further proving his claim as the killer. In this letter, he mocked the police efforts and hinted at future attacks, increasing the public’s anxiety.

One of the most haunting aspects of the Zodiac investigation was the killer’s ability to create fear and confusion—not just through violence, but through his words. Between 1969 and 1974, the Zodiac sent dozens of letters, ciphers, and postcards to newspapers and police. Some included maps, threatening to plant bombs around the Bay Area. On July 26, 1970, he sent a letter with a map of the San Francisco Bay Area, marked with a crosshair and a 32-letter cipher. He suggested that a bomb was buried at the marked location, but nothing was ever found.

Surviving victims provided additional insight into the killer’s demeanor and methods. After the Blue Rock Springs Park attack on July 4, 1969, Michael Mageau described the shooter as a stocky white male, around 26 to 30 years old, wearing dark clothing and glasses. Bryan Hartnell, who survived the Lake Berryessa stabbing, recalled that the killer wore a bizarre hooded costume with the Zodiac symbol on the chest, and spoke in a calm, controlled voice. Hartnell reported that the attacker seemed methodical, almost detached as he tied up his victims and attacked them with a knife.

Despite these clues, the Zodiac remained elusive. The investigation spanned multiple jurisdictions: Vallejo, Napa County, and San Francisco police all dedicated resources, as did the FBI. Each department collected evidence, interviewed suspects, and attempted to link the murders through ballistics, handwriting, and witness descriptions. The killer’s shifting methods—sometimes shooting, sometimes stabbing; sometimes attacking couples, sometimes a lone male—frustrated efforts to establish a clear pattern.

Two of the four ciphers sent by the Zodiac remain unsolved, adding to the enduring mystery. The 340-character cipher, known as the “Z340,” was only cracked decades after it was sent. The decoded message taunted law enforcement and denied that the killer’s identity was hidden in the code. The other two ciphers have never been broken, despite efforts by cryptographers worldwide. This cryptic communication became one of the case’s most infamous hallmarks, drawing countless amateur sleuths into the hunt for answers.

In the wake of the Stine murder, police pursued several leads. Dozens of suspects were interviewed, and some were even tailed for months. Physical evidence was limited. A bloody fingerprint found on the cab’s interior divider was compared to thousands of prints from suspects and police personnel, but no match was found. Handwriting experts analyzed the Zodiac’s letters and compared them to known suspects, but again, no conclusive link emerged.

The Zodiac continued to torment the public with his correspondence. On December 20, 1969, he sent a letter claiming responsibility for the murder of a young woman—later linked to an abduction attempt on Kathleen Johns in March 1970. Johns reported being approached by a man who offered her a ride after her car broke down near Modesto, California. During the ride, the man threatened her and her infant daughter, but she managed to escape. The Zodiac’s letter seemed to take credit for the incident, further blurring the line between confirmed and possible victims.

On March 22, 1971, a postcard arrived referencing the disappearance of Donna Lass, a nurse who vanished from South Lake Tahoe in September 1970. The Zodiac hinted at his involvement, but no concrete evidence ever surfaced. These possible additional crimes expanded the scope of the investigation and deepened the sense of dread surrounding the killer’s actions.

The Zodiac’s final known letter arrived on January 29, 1974. It referenced the film “The Exorcist,” called it “the best saterical comidy [sic] that I have ever seen,” and ended with a tally: “Me = 37, SFPD = 0.” This was a taunt—an assertion that he had killed 37 people and remained at large, while the police had failed to catch him. Law enforcement, however, only confirmed five murders and two attempted murders as definitively linked to the Zodiac.

Despite thousands of investigative hours, the case remains unsolved. Numerous suspects were investigated over the years, but none were ever definitively linked to the crimes. Investigators cited several challenges: the killer’s changing modus operandi, the lack of DNA evidence, and the jurisdictional complexity with crimes occurring in multiple counties.

Forensic evidence from the Paul Stine murder—particularly the bloody fingerprint and the cab’s interior—was tested against known suspects, but technology at the time limited the scope of analysis. Later advances in DNA testing have so far failed to yield a match, partly because the preserved evidence was incomplete or degraded. Handwriting analysis of the Zodiac’s letters led to the elimination of several suspects, but never pointed conclusively to any one individual.

The Zodiac’s impact extended beyond the immediate victims and their families. His letters captivated the region, generating both fear and fascination. On multiple occasions, he threatened mass violence, including school bus attacks. The media publicized his letters and ciphers, both to inform the public and in the hope that someone would recognize the writing or clues. The Zodiac’s communications even inspired the 1971 film “Dirty Harry,” reflecting the enormous cultural footprint of the case.

Some experts, like former FBI profiler Gregg McCrary, noted that “the killer constantly changed his method of operating and openly admitted that murder was sport for him.” This unpredictability made profiling and predicting his next move nearly impossible. Sara Kettler, writing for Biography.com, summarized the enduring puzzle: “Despite numerous investigations and a few suspects, the true identity of the Zodiac Killer remains unsolved.”

The confirmed victims’ families live with the pain and uncertainty generated by the case’s unresolved status. Surviving victims like Michael Mageau and Bryan Hartnell provided crucial descriptions of the attacker, yet were unable to help investigators close the case. The Bay Area communities affected by the Zodiac’s killings have never forgotten the terror that stalked their streets during those years.

One lesser-known thread is the possible link to the 1966 murder of Cheri Jo Bates in Riverside, California. While some investigators believed the Zodiac may have been responsible, the connection remains unconfirmed. The Zodiac himself alluded to other possible crimes in his letters, but never provided proof.

Today, the Zodiac Killer’s case is one of the most famous unsolved serial murder cases in American history. Two of his four ciphers remain unbroken, and his identity is still the subject of intense debate and investigation. The Zodiac’s final confirmed communication arrived in 1974, and after that, he vanished as mysteriously as he had appeared.

His letters, sent from 1969 to 1974, were signed with a symbol resembling the crosshairs of a gunsight and typically began with the phrase, “this is the Zodiac speaking.”