The Survivor’s Divide: Why the Zodiac Wrote After Mageau, But Not Hartnell

 Between December 1968 and October 1969, the Zodiac Killer attacked seven known victims. Of those, five were murdered - Betty Lou Jensen, David Faraday, Darlene Ferrin, Cecilia Shepard, and Paul Stine. Two survived: Michael Mageau, attacked on July 5, 1969, and Bryan Hartnell, attacked on September 27, 1969.

Over the course of roughly nine years, the Zodiac mailed at least 18 letters. Among these, three letters directly referenced specific attacks: the July 31, 1969, and August 4, 1969, letters both addressed the Lake Herman Road and Blue Rock Springs shootings, while the October 13, 1969, letter discussed the Presidio Heights murder of Paul Stine. Notably absent from any letter is the crime at Lake Berryessa - the stabbing of Hartnell and Shepard.

This omission has long puzzled observers. Zodiac had a pattern of writing letters shortly after each confirmed murder. Why not this one? The absence has led some to speculate that the Lake Berryessa attack was the work of a copycat. But this theory is deeply flawed. Not only does it undermine the Lake Berryessa case - it weakens the consistency of the Zodiac case as a whole.

The facts contradict the copycat idea. Zodiac's modus operandi evolved over time. At Lake Herman Road, he shot David Faraday at close range, then chased and killed Betty Lou Jensen as she fled. At Blue Rock Springs, he adapted - firing into a parked car to prevent escape. Still, Michael Mageau survived, providing police with a description of the killer’s car, its color, and a partial view of the assailant himself.

Lake Berryessa marked another evolution. Now armed with a knife instead of a gun, the killer appeared in a hooded costume adorned with a crossed-circle emblem. He tied up the victims, told a bizarre story about having escaped from prison, and then stabbed them both. He even left a message on the victims’ car door - his signature. This theatrical approach aligns entirely with Zodiac's pattern of attention-seeking and symbolism. Far from being inconsistent, it represents a calculated shift - one that still fits within his psychological and behavioral framework.

At this point, Zodiac was keenly aware of the danger of a surviving victim. Mageau’s survival had already compromised his mystique. And yet, at Lake Berryessa, he chose not to slit throats or shoot from a distance - methods that would likely have ensured death. Instead, he relied on close-up stabbing and storytelling. This suggests that survival itself wasn’t the problem. The real concern was who got to tell the story.

Zodiac, always obsessed with image and control, may have seen an opportunity in Hartnell. If a victim lived and recounted the Zodiac’s own words - verbatim - then Zodiac would still be the narrator. He would still control the public’s perception, not through ink on paper, but through a human mouthpiece.
This brings us to a striking contrast: how Zodiac treated his two surviving victims.

Michael Mageau, who survived the Blue Rock Springs shooting, became a target in Zodiac’s August 4, 1969, letter. Instead of naming Mageau or describing him honestly, Zodiac replaced him with a fictional figure - a “negro male, 40-45, rather shabbily dressed.” In the racial and social climate of 1969, this false description was no innocent mistake. It was a calculated insult meant to degrade and erase. Zodiac didn’t just want to distort Mageau’s identity - he wanted to replace it with something more mockable, less credible, and easier to dismiss.

Mageau’s offense? He spoke. He gave the police details - about the car, the attack, and the timing. He inserted himself into the story in a way the Zodiac could not fully control. That made him dangerous.
Bryan Hartnell, in contrast, posed no such threat. Hartnell did what Zodiac wanted: he listened. He asked questions. He remained calm. He lived - and most importantly, he repeated the Zodiac’s story almost word-for-word to the police and the press. The bizarre prison escape narrative Zodiac shared during the attack became public through Hartnell’s voice, not a letter. In that sense, Hartnell was the letter. The killer didn’t need to write - he had already been heard.

Zodiac, who relished control and spectacle, may have seen Hartnell not as a threat, but as an extension of himself.

Even their appearances may have influenced how Zodiac perceived them. Mageau, just 19, worked a low-wage job and wore multiple layers of clothing on a warm summer night - three slacks, two shirts, and three sweaters - an unusual, possibly desperate presentation. Hartnell, on the other hand, was a confident, well-spoken college student - composed, articulate, and respected. In the Zodiac’s warped view, Hartnell may have represented the type of figure he admired: educated, competent, and credible.

As I argued in my article Victim vs. High Profile, the Zodiac projected parts of himself onto others. Victims who symbolized weakness or failure were mocked, minimized, or erased. Figures who reflected power or legitimacy - media names, celebrities, law enforcement - were often acknowledged by name. Hartnell, who recited Zodiac’s own words, may have been seen as someone to preserve. Mageau, who disrupted the illusion, had to be symbolically destroyed.

Perhaps the most telling evidence is what Zodiac didn’t do. After Lake Berryessa, he remained silent. No letter, no clarification, no taunt. He let Hartnell’s words stand.

This silence was not indifference - it was satisfaction. The story had been told, exactly as he had intended. Hartnell had delivered it.

In the Zodiac’s world, survival was not the issue. Narrative control was. Mageau interfered. Hartnell complied. That may be why one man was ridiculed in a letter - and the other was spared mention entirely.