I’ve spent more nights than I care to admit hunched over my laptop, squinting at grainy crime scene photos of the Zodiac Killer case while my husband Ryan snores peacefully beside me. (He thinks I’m “just checking email” at 2 AM. Bless his oblivious heart.)
The Zodiac Killer has been living rent-free in my brain since I was twelve and stumbled across a true crime book that my parents definitely should have hidden better. What can I say? While other kids were collecting Pokémon cards, I was collecting serial killer facts. (Therapy is going great, thanks for asking.)
The Basics: A Refresher Course in Terror
If you’re somehow new to this rabbit hole, the Zodiac terrorized Northern California from 1968 to 1969, claiming responsibility for at least five murders while taunting police with cryptic letters and ciphers. The killer’s identity remains unknown to this day — as frustrating as finding a 1000-piece puzzle with 999 pieces.
The confirmed victims include couples at Lake Herman Road and Blue Rock Springs, the Lake Berryessa attack (where the killer wore that iconic executioner-style hood that still haunts my nightmares), and cab driver Paul Stine in San Francisco. Though Zodiac claimed 37 victims in his letters, only five are officially attributed to him — which is five too many.
The Cipher That Finally Cracked
For over 50 years, amateur sleuths and cryptography experts banged their heads against the wall trying to decode the Zodiac’s 340 cipher. I’ve literally dreamed about solving it myself (yes, I’m that level of obsessed).
Then in December 2020, a team of three amateur codebreakers did what the FBI couldn’t — they cracked the damn thing. The message didn’t reveal the killer’s identity (because obviously that would be too convenient), but instead contained ramblings about not fearing the afterlife. The cipher’s solution used a diagonal reading pattern so complicated that it makes my tax returns look like kindergarten homework.
I spent an entire weekend after the announcement trying to understand their methodology while my husband periodically asked if I was “still doing that murder thing.” (Yes, Ryan. Always and forever doing “that murder thing.”)
The DNA Dilemma That Keeps Me Up At Night
You’d think with all our fancy modern forensic technology, we’d have nailed this guy through DNA by now. After all, genetic genealogy helped catch the Golden State Killer in 2018 (another case I’ve spent unhealthy amounts of time researching).
Here’s the kicker that makes me want to scream into my true crime pillow: the Zodiac case has a frustrating lack of preserved DNA evidence. The stamps and envelope seals from his letters — which should be DNA goldmines — were heavily handled by investigators who didn’t know any better back in the 1960s. Cross-contamination was basically a given, not the exception.
Some comprehensive resources on the Zodiac investigation suggest there might still be untested items that could yield results with today’s technology. I check for updates on this approximately 17 times per day. (I wish I was exaggerating.)
The Suspect List: A Cast of Creeps
Arthur Leigh Allen remains the most well-known suspect and the only one officially named by authorities. The circumstantial evidence against him is as thick as my case file binder (which Ryan has forbidden me from displaying in our living room).
Allen owned the same rare military boots that matched prints at the Lake Berryessa scene, wore a Zodiac watch (subtle as a bloodstain on white carpet), and was allegedly spotted near crime scenes. Plus, he failed a polygraph, though those are about as reliable as my attempts to stick to a diet.
But numerous other suspects have emerged over the decades. Some theories are compelling enough to keep me awake wondering, while others are shakier than my coffee-addled hands after an all-night investigation binge.
The Overlooked Detail That Haunts Me
One detail that doesn’t get enough attention: the Zodiac’s bizarre costume at Lake Berryessa. He approached his victims wearing a hood with the crosshair symbol sewn on it — meaning he created this outfit specifically for the crime. This wasn’t just a killer; this was someone who crafted an entire persona around his murders.
The level of theatrical preparation suggests someone who was deeply invested in creating a legacy. It’s like he was auditioning for the role of “Most Memorable Serial Killer” — and unfortunately, he got the part.
According to detailed case analyses, this theatrical element points to a killer who craved attention and recognition, not just someone acting on homicidal impulses.
The Unsolved Ciphers Still Waiting
Two of the Zodiac’s ciphers remain unsolved, including the infamous “My name is—” cipher that supposedly contains his identity. I’ve tried my hand at it during many insomnia-fueled nights (would have survived this crime by being too busy overthinking everything to be anywhere near a lover’s lane).
These remaining puzzles feel like the killer is still taunting us from beyond the grave — or, in the unlikely but not impossible scenario, from a nursing home somewhere. The thought that he might have lived out a full life while his victims never had the chance makes my blood boil hotter than forgotten coffee in the microwave.
I’m convinced the answers are still out there, hidden in plain sight like that one sock that disappears in the dryer. And like any good true crime junkie, I’ll keep looking — even if my husband thinks I should find a “normal” hobby.
Lock your doors tonight. Just saying.