Case Closed : Famed Homicide Detective Jigsaw John Turns In Badge No. 1

The deputy district attorney calls the old homicide detective to the stand and immediately attempts to establish his witness’s credibility. Is it true, the deputy D.A. asks after a few preliminary questions, that you are known as Jigsaw John?

After the detective nods, his credentials now beyond reproach, he goes on to explain why a .38-caliber shell casing was found wedged between the dashboard and the windshield of an ’89 Jaguar.

When a judge and jury discover that John (Jigsaw John) St. John has worked a murder case they pay close attention. Because when it comes to terminating a life by shooting, stabbing, strangling, battering or bludgeoning, there is no greater authority in the city of Los Angeles.

But after investigating close to 1,500 murders, viewing more than 2,000 autopsies and sifting through countless gruesome crime scenes, St. John, 75, is finally closing his files.

This appearance in court would be his last official act with the department. Today, St. John--who has been a homicide detective 43 years and carries Badge No. 1--fills out the final paperwork and retires.

As he walked out of that courtroom last week he climbed into his unmarked Ford, settled heavily into the seat, shook his head and muttered: “After all these years, it’s hard to believe this is it.”

St. John is not the stock Hollywood version of a homicide detective, although a short-lived television series was once patterned after him. He is bald, pudgy, has one good eye and wears polyester pants and rumpled sports coats. And St. John speaks so slowly, in such a halting manner that it seems, at first, that his best investigative years are behind him.

But ask him about a 29-year-old murder and, after pausing, removing his glasses and rubbing the bridge of his nose, he’ll tell you the make, the model and year of the killer’s car, the kind of skid marks it left, how the killer slipped off his shoes before he broke into the house, how many years he served in the joint, and when he got out.

It is St. John’s memory that has made him a great investigator, his intuitive sense of people, his dogged, single-mindedness on a case, other detectives say. The car chases, the gun battles, “all that flamboyant stuff,” he says, only solve crimes in the movies.

During his 51 years on the force, St. John never shot his gun. He has solved his cases by hunkering over his desk and studying victims’ bank records, credit ratings, telephone calls and investment portfolios and by interviewing and re-interviewing countless people. If a real homicide investigation were filmed, St. John says, it would put an audience to sleep.

A year after joining the force, St. John lost an eye when he was attacked by a juvenile jail prisoner who had ripped an iron bar from his bunk. But the beating that cost him half his vision gave him an insight and compassion that has set him apart from most detectives.

St. John knows what it is like to be a victim, he says, to be brutally attacked and left for dead.

*

St. John picked up the nickname Jigsaw decades ago after working a dismemberment murder in Griffith Park where he had to piece body parts together to solve the crime. His reputation grew over the last four decades as he solved every kind of murder imaginable throughout the city.

A few years ago, when St. John was searching for a suspect in a drug-related shooting, he showed up at a house in South-Central with a search warrant. A young woman answered the door, studied the detective for a moment and said:.

“Good morning, Mr. Jigsaw.”

When St. John began as a homicide detective, murder, like everything else in the city, was a lot simpler. There were about 100 a year--the majority straightforward, fundamental cases--and detectives solved 90% of them.

But as the city changed over the years, so have the number and nature of homicides. Now there are more than 1,000 murders a year. They have become increasingly complex and bizarre and the detectives’ “clearances rates” have dropped to about 70%. But St. John has been able to change with the times, learning more about scientific crime analysis and a new generation of killers.

He learned about drive-by shootings and prostitute slashers, Asian gangs and serial killers. St. John became an authority on serial killers and he pursued 12 of them, including the “Freeway Killer,” William Bonin, whom he tracked for eight years before his team of detectives solved the case.

“The younger detectives learned a lot of things from John, but it was his tenacity and perseverance that was his most impressive quality,” said Tom Lange, a homicide detective. “He’d sit with a witness or a suspect for 10 minutes or 10 hours. He’d never raise his voice; he’d never lose his patience. He wouldn’t leave until he got what he needed.”

Discussing the details of even the most gruesome crimes doesn’t seem to affect St. John’s appetite. As he recounts various cases, he pauses to munch on a steak sandwich and sip a V.O. and water at a dim, smoky steakhouse just west of downtown.

After sifting through crime scenes for 43 years, he has become inured to the many manifestations of murder. But one type of crime continues to torment him--the murder of elderly women.

“It’s the helplessness that really bothers me,” St. John says, staring into his drink. “The helplessness is what gets to you.”

There are two unsolved murders that still rankle St. John, he says, two killings that will haunt him in his retirement because he was so close to solving them. One is a 21-year-old case involving an elderly woman by the name of Helen Meyler who was beaten to death by a burglar with a metal candelabrum. St. John spent years chasing leads but could not get that final piece of evidence he needed to clear the case.

“I still think about that one. You know, the guy could have just taken what he wanted and left,” St. John says softly, shaking his head. “The beating was so brutal, so senseless.”

*

The other case is the murder of a 24-year-old woman who was found in a Hollywood parking lot 12 years ago. St. John knew who killed her. He just couldn’t prove it.

“I wanted that one real bad. Some cases just get to you because you’re so close. This was one of the worst.”

St. John decided to retire, after years of cajoling by his wife, so the two of them could travel and spend more time at their cabin on the Klamath River near the Oregon border. Although he will no longer roll on homicide calls for the department, St. John will stay active in the art of the murder investigation.

The cop who in every way is the antithesis of the Hollywood detective will be working as a technical adviser on a number of upcoming police movies.