Word: cars
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Dates: during 1970-1979
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...Berkowitz walked calmly out of the building, got into his car and started the engine. A couple of officers ran out of the darkness, their guns drawn. They ordered Berkowitz to turn off the ignition, get out of the car and place his hands on top of it. Having followed the mountains of clippings about Son of Sam closely-a scrapbook of them was found in his apartment-Berkowitz recognized the arresting officers' leader, Deputy Inspector Timothy Dowd. "Inspector, you finally got me," he said quietly to Dowd. "I guess this is the end of the trail...
When he was seized, Berkowitz was carrying a manila envelope; in it was the .44-cal. pistol that had been used in all of the Son of Sam murders. He also had a semiautomatic rifle, simulated to look like a submachine gun, in the car...
...often cruised various neighborhoods in his car after such a "calling," looking for some "sign" that the timing was right. Even such a chance event as the appearance of a convenient parking space was such a sign to Berkowitz. He did choose victims whom he considered "pretty," claiming he favored the Queens borough for a time because "Queens girls are prettier." He did not walk casually away from the murder sites and slip into the dark. "I ran like hell." He revisited at least two of the scenes of his crimes and tried to find the grave of his first...
...quite likely that police grabbed Son of Sam just before he could claim even more victims in even more spectacular crimes. David Berkowitz told them why he had placed that semiautomatic rifle in his car on the night he was captured. He said he planned to drive out to the fashionable Hampton resort communities on Long Island and blast away at the crowd in a discotheque or nightclub. He was ready, he said with a smile, "to go down in a blaze of glory...
...trust your car to the man who wears the star," promise those familiar Texaco ads hailing the supposed virtues of the crisply uniformed gas station attendant. Yet more and more these days, American motorists find that pulling into a gas station can be a lonely experience-no smiling greeting, no wipe of the windshield, all too often not even an attendant. Sometimes indeed the station itself has disappeared, its facilities closed up entirely or transformed into animal hospitals, used-car lots or fruit stands...