Murder in Beverly Hills

Christmas Eve 2000 marked the day the lifeless body of Susan Berman, born to a Las Vegas mobster in 1945, was found in her modest home in a wooded neighborhood. Her three precious wire-haired fox terriers had been running in and out of her house, barking frantically. If the dogs – Lulu, Romeo, and Golda (named after former Israel Prime Minister Golda Meir), whom Susan adopted a few years earlier along with Golda’s two puppies, Lulu and Romeo – were trying to tell someone something bad had happened, it worked. The dogs were the only witnesses to her murder. The neighbors would soon learn that the dogs’ owner, Susan Jane Berman, fifty-five years old, had been cut down in front of them with a single gunshot blast at close range to the back of her head, Chicago Mob-style. Susan lived in her canyon home, spending much of her time at her computer. She was a struggling writer. But she was no ordinary writer. She was the daughter of a big-time gangster – a Mob boss – from Las Vegas’s heyday, and she enjoyed writing about those days. About the same time the neighbors began taking notice, some of Susan’s friends were alarmed as well because Susan failed to attend a holiday get-together after telling her friends she’d be there. Susan was excited about the dinner and seeing her old friend Susie Harmon from their Chadwick school days. For that circle of friends, the days before Christmas were a happy time, as they all anticipated their annual party. But instead of gathering with friends for the holidays, as Susan had done every year before, police, investigators, and crime-scene analysts began swarming her modest bungalow in Benedict Canyon, just above the city of Beverly Hills. Susan had also scheduled a dinner that Saturday night with her cousin Deni Marcus. She talked to Deni the day before. “I cannot wait for you to come to my house tomorrow night,” Deni told her. “We’re going to tell my son all the stories of our big, loud, crazy family.” When Susan didn’t attend either dinner, Deni and Susan’s friends new something was amiss; it wasn’t like Susan to not show up. Deni called Susan to ask what happened, why she wasn’t there, and a cop answered Susan’s phone. He told Deni that Susan had been fatally shot. Word spread fast as Susan’s friends each learned the tragic news. They began gathering at Susan’s house, which had been transformed into a crime scene. Allowing Susan’s friends onto the property and onto the unsealed, unsecured scene of the crime and inside the house turned out to to be an early mistakes in the investigation. As a child, Susan had been protected by her father, Davie. Susan’s bedroom was at the back of their house, down a long hallway. Her father had the windows heightened to thwart an abduction or drive-by shooting. Davie even whisked his daughter away from Las Vegas’s Mob unrest for Los Angeles getaways. Susan later referred to those L.A. trips as “flights to freedom.” This time, however, her father was not there to protect his precious daughter. Susan Berman died all alone.