No Reprieve From Madness of CSUF Killings

Before Littleton, before Jonesboro, Ark. and Fort Worth, Texas, or the maniacal violence at a Costa Mesa day care and an Anaheim hospital, there was a man named Allaway.

In the heart of Cal State Fullerton, students often study or reflect sitting on the short, serpentine rock wall amid seven trees of stony pine at Memorial Grove. A plaque on round granite tells us this setting is a remembrance of the seven who were killed at the nearby library July 12, 1976. Victims, on a quiet day, of Edward Charles Allaway, a janitor gone berserk with a rifle.

Killers have a way of seeing themselves as victims too. Allaway, found insane by a Superior Court judge and made a mental ward of the state, declared himself cured long ago. He has been petitioning for release the past 15 years.

The courts don’t agree with Allaway. At least not yet.

But families of the victims, and those who shared that tragic morning, should be prepared: Allaway, now 59, has a diligent, determined attorney who believes in him and is working toward the day Allaway is released.

Deputy Public Defender John Bovee, a 32-year veteran of that office, has represented Allaway for eight years. Next month, he plans to take steps that should assure Allaway a new court hearing early next year.

“I believe Ed is ready for release; he deserves a chance,” Bovee said. “Of all the clients I’ve had, Ed would rank among the top of those I wouldn’t mind having for a neighbor.”

But Allaway had better not expect other welcome wagons.

The district attorney’s office and families of the victims have fought his release at every hearing so far. In their eyes he got away with murder.

Bear in mind that if Allaway ever were released, it would be to some type of supervised board and care facility. He’d need a new court order no earlier than a year after that for any unconditional release. Bovee recognizes that the courts may never agree to that step.

Even with a conditional release, Allaway would never be allowed to live in Orange County. For obvious reasons, Bovee said, this is not the place for Allaway to live.

Jerry Keating, Cal State Fullerton’s former public affairs director, shudders at the thought of any release for Allaway: “How could you know when something might just set him off again?”

Keating, now retired, well remembers the day of the shooting. If you were on campus that day, how could you not?

Cal State Fullerton was much smaller then, with fewer summer classes. Keating remembers the campus as slower-paced, much of the staff preparing for the fall semester.

“The violence was such a contrast to the character of the campus,” Keating said. “We were a small school in a quiet urban community, small enough that most of us knew each other.”

It wasn’t like today, when rampages are so prevalent that we’re barely past one mad gunman tragedy when the next one is filling headlines and TV screens. It left a pall over everyone, well beyond the borders of the campus, Keating said.

And it all took less than 10 minutes.

Allaway, for reasons never really known, entered the library through a side door, headed downstairs to the basement, where its media center was located, and began firing his .22-caliber rifle at random. He killed six in all before taking an elevator to the first floor, where he killed one more and wounded two others. He turned himself in to police that afternoon.

Allaway later said some of those he killed he had considered friends. It remains not only the worst mass killing in this county’s history, but also one of its most celebrated cases. To everyone’s astonishment, then-Superior Court Judge Robert Kneeland (now retired) agreed with Allaway’s attorney, the late Ronald Y. Butler, that his client was insane.

It spared Allaway going to prison. He has served most of his time at Patton State Mental Hospital. But Kneeland noted at the time that he did not believe Allaway would ever be released.

The judge certainly never expected that officials at Patton would recommend Allaway’s release to a community halfway house. But that’s what happened last year.

With that recommendation, plus supporting reports from numerous psychiatrists, Bovee was all set for another hearing back in Orange County Superior Court 16 months ago. But shortly before the hearing, Bovee withdrew his petition.

Allaway had been evaluated by a state mental health team called CONREP (Conditional Release Treatment Program), which issued a negative report.

“I thought we had a strong case, but given Ed’s circumstances, you need a super-strong case,” Bovee said. “We decided to hold off until he’d had more time at Patton, to work on some of CONREP’s concerns.”

One, for example, was whether Allaway had enough education to support himself away from an institution. Another was whether he could handle the stress of living on his own.

I have some concerns of my own about Allaway’s release that I asked Bovee about.

One is Allaway’s previous statements that he does not remember actually pulling the trigger on anybody. I’ve covered so many murder trials since then in which defendants used that argument I know it’s baloney. How can Allaway be ready for society if he won’t fully take responsibility for his actions?

Bovee’s answer: “As Ed has had more and more therapy, he’s becoming more cognizant of the details of what happened.”

My other concern, based on statements of Allaway’s I’ve read, is that he seems much more bothered by slights against him by the system than with the gravity of what he did. I just don’t see much remorse.

Bovee believes I’m wrong: “If he appears that way, it’s only because of his inability sometimes to articulate how he feels. Ed is extremely remorseful about what he did.”

That’s not going to mean much to those who will oppose him at his next hearing. Their pain will never ease.

I was glad to see that they, too, were remembered by the university. The plaque at Memorial Grove is dedicated to the seven dead and two wounded, but also “in recognition of the families of the victims, and the many other persons whose lives were touched by the tragedy of July 12, 1976.”

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Jerry Hicks’ column appears Monday and Thursday. Readers may reach Hicks by calling (714) 564-1049 or by e-mail at jerry.hicks@latimes.com.

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A Look Back at CSUF Shootings

On July 12, 1976, Cal State Fullerton janitor Edward Charles Allaway killed seven co-workers and wounded two others when he opened fire in the university library with a .22-caliber rifle.