A note to listeners before we begin. Today's episode includes sound effects of gunshots
and focuses on a school shooting. Therefore, some may find this episode disturbing.
Growing up, I used to dread school. Not because I hated going
or didn't have any friends or something like that. I hated saying in classes
doing things I didn't really care about when I could have been out doing something
much more important to me, writing. I've always been a storyteller. It
was even voted most likely to be published. Not to brag my junior and
senior years, I took these ultra advanced courses in the International Backlaureate Program or
IB for short for those unfamiliar with this program. Students enrolled essentially take two
year long courses that culminate in a final exam at the end of your senior
year. Score high enough on the exam and you get college credit. Get
below the desired member and you wasted two years and hundreds of dollars of your
college fund. Most of my friends in those classes were crying because they got
an A instead of an A. Well. I was pulling a solid B
minus or so and getting frustrated because I didn't have time to write my first
soon to be best selling novel. Part of me felt like a failure because
I could have been doing better in school, but simply decided my time was
better spent writing my wacky ideas. Today, those students either wasted their potential
and still live at home or became engineers and scientists. Me. I work
in Hollywood and have this podcast on the side, so I guess we're all
winners in the end. Side note, I now believe IB really stands for
it's bullshit. When I got to my college orientation and mentioned the classes,
the orientation leaders literally had no idea what they were so lesson of the day.
If you're a high school student, stick with the AP program. It's
easier and more likely to get the college credit you deserve. Now, although
I dreaded going to school, I was still able to pull myself together ninety
nine percent of the time and get my button class. Before that, seven
thirty bell rang. But for one young lady, even though she had a
little bit of passion, she was never able to tap into it and instead
destroyed hundreds of lives. The reason why she did it makes the act all
the more disturbing. Welcome to dead Time, stories. The morning of Monday,
January twenty ninth, nineteen seventy nine started quite normally, as they often
do. The pupils of Grover Cleveland Elementary in San Diego, California happily made
their way to the classroom, skipping a long chatter way mindlessly with their parents.
We're thinking about how nice it would be when the final bell called out
at three. It was a chilly morning, low forties, with frost still
sticking to the ground. Ba ba ba dude, Baha dude. As the
eight thirty bell rang, Principal Burton Rag happily sauntered to the school's entrance,
as he did every morning. His wavy brown hair was perfectly in place as
he unlocked the gate for students and greeted them with his friendly smile. Good
morning, Billy, Hey, happy to see you, Tana, Brad,
don't forget to spit out that chewing him. Just a few feet from the
school was eight year old Monica Selvic. For one reason or another, she
had walked ahead of her older sister Linda. She might have mumbled under her
breath about a trivial argument the two had earlier that morning. Fourth grader Cam
Miller rubbed the front of his new blue vest with a smile on his face
as his mother drove by their usual drop off spot. Hey, mom,
you met the gate. I know, sweetie, it's just so chilly out
and I don't want you to freeze walking all the way across that big playground.
So we're going to the front gate today, momma. As missus Miller
slowed the car down, she heard a loud bang. Oh goodness, somebody
must be having car trouble, which reminds me your father needs to take ours
to the shop. Wait, give me a kiss. Well, don't be
embarrassed. I'll see you at three. Be safe. Cam shut the door.
She's still burning from the embarrassing kiss and walked to the gate, but
he came to a sudden stopped at the sight of Monica squirming on the ground,
his headcock to the side as she looked up at him. Did you
just set off that firework? Cam didn't have much time to comprehend the situation.
Shortly after hearing another popping sound, a shockwave rolled through his body and
he collapsed to the ground. Principal Burton Rag looked up as another shot rang
out and flung the gates wide open. Get inside, kids, get in
right now. Principal Rag ran to help his students. Another little girl,
Crystal Hardy, sat on the ground hysterically crying as her principle bent over to
help ranging inside. Don't worry, sweetheart, We're going to get you to
the nurse's office. Another shot rang out. By this point, several teachers
were aware of the shocking events happening just outside their classrooms and ran outside.
Daryl Barnes, who had just finished a cup of coffee with mister Rag minutes
before, ran out the side door just in time to see these colleagues spin
around and fall beside Crystal. When he knows the red patch forming on Burton's
chest, adrenaline took over. Bobby, get inside and don't come out until
told. Miss Miller, call the police. We have a shooter. Hang
on, Bert, I've got you. Darrell turned to see the custodian running
across the front lawn with a towel in his hand. Mike, no,
but it was too late. Oh my god. The custodian fell beside mister
Rag. It's okay. Kids, just get inside. Cover your ears.
Crystals, come here, honey, that's right, Just stuck your head and
keep running. Mister Crystal held up her arm to show off the gaping hole
in her wrist. Go to the nurse, run and don't stop. Mister
Barnes looked up to see another car pulling up to the school, blissfully unaware
of the chaos. The side door opened and one child poked their head out
with a smile. No, no, no, no, go home.
Go. The mother looked at him, confused as another shot rang out,
then grabbed her child and sped off. By eight forty five police arrived at
the school and set up a blockade to prevent any other students from coming.
This included the first victim, sister Linda Selvic. The ten year old approached
an officer, Young, lady, get home. It's not safe. My
sister's at school already. Mister, what's happening? I send to get home
to your parents. One officer, Robert rob rushed in to help the injured,
but quickly received a bullet to the neck. He winced in pain,
but pushed through. We have to make it harder to hit these kids.
How Rob, get that garbage choke over here. Acting quickly, one of
the officers took control of the truck, gunning it in reverse until it blocked
the school. Meanwhile, thirsty to know what was happening at Grover Cleveland Elementary,
a reporter with the San Diego Union Tribune called houses on Lake Atland Avenue,
the street, the school and shooter. We're on. Yeah, good
morning. This This is Gus Stevens with the Union Tribune. Have you heard
about this crazy shooting in your neighborhood? Yeah? Do you know the address
of the shooter? Sure, sixty three fifty six Lake Atland Avenue. That's
your house. Yeah. Who do you think is shooting? Do you realize
you shot two or three people? Is that all I thought? I shot
about twelve. It's kind of fun to watch their bodies squirm on the ground.
Is there a reason you're doing this? I don't like mondays. The
Slaven's up the day. What do you think about them? We're in a
spencer. I have to go now. I shot a pig, I think,
and I want to shoot some more. The shooting only lasted about fifteen
minutes, but that was long enough to injure eight kids and one police officer,
Principal Rag and custodian Mike Suker wouldn't survive. The shooting ended predominantly because
the SWAT team surrounded the home of sixteen year old Brenda Spencer. The high
school student brushed aside her long, straight, ginger hair and tilted her black
ski cap down with a wicked grin on her face. She had no intention
of coming outside. While she remained locked away, Police and SWAT escorted the
kids through the back of the school. Those injured were rushed to two hospitals.
Whether wounds were treated, most were able to leave by the end of
the day. Brenda Spencer, as I'm sure you've guessed by now, was
not your typical high school student. The youngest of three kids, Brenda was
born in April third, nineteen sixty two, to Wallace and Dot Spencer.
Wallace was an audio visual specialist at a local college and, according to Dot,
had wandering eyes for other women. Oh you finally home, Wally,
Dinner's almost ready. Wallace blankly stared around the room. Wallace, sit down,
we need to talk. I met some one a few weeks ago.
Jesus Christ. Now, listen, we got three kids, so I'm committed.
All zat is a year off from you and try things with this new
woman. If it don't work, I'll come back. Fuck you, Wally,
I want a divorce. In nineteen seventy two, Dot and Wallace officially
separated. The court gave custody of Brenda and her two older siblings to Wallace.
Within a few years, her siblings moved out, leaving Brenda with nobody
but her father. This is where most sources agree the problems began. Without
a strong parental figure in her life, Brenda was left to cope with their
sorrows alone and truly had no idea how to do this best. One morning,
Brenda's young neighbor, Colleen Davidson, dropped by for a visit. Hi,
Brenda, it's Colleen. I can see dummy. Want to play Barbies?
A grin not unlike the grenches, spread across Brenda's face as Colleen held
up her pristine doll. Sure, gimme that Barbie. I have some clothes
I can give you. Okay. Colleen happily handed her doll over and Brenda
shut the door. The little girl bounced up and down as she eagerly awaited
Brenda's return with the dolly clothes. Here you go, kid. Colleen looked
down at her Barbie aghast and one hand she held the body and then the
other the doll's head. Some say this was a sign Wallace abused Brenda,
and I say it was a sign she was disturbed. Classes in research have
taught me all serial killers began their careers by pulling wings from flies. Colleen's
Barbie head was Brenda's fly wings. It wasn't just dolls Brenda destroyed. After
the divorce, she started hanging with the wrong group of friends and experiment into
with drugs and summer in nineteen seventy eight, Brenda sat on her front porch
with a BB gun, having nothing else to do. That evening, Brenda
filled her gun with pellets and headed out on a special mission of sorts.
She looked at Grover Cleveland Elementary with a smile, held up the BB gun
and fired at one of the windows. The glass shattered and Brenda slid her
extremely skinny body through the opening. The classroom was mostly empty for the summer,
but Daryl Barnes had left a few knickknacks line around. Brenda went on
a rampage, wriggling the classroom with bullets. She may have dented the chalkboard,
shattered a cup of pencils or written vulgar words on the desks. Then
spotting a photograph of Darrel with his students, Brenda grinned. She closed one
eye and shot the pellet ripped a hole right through Darryl's skull. Shit.
Brenda gained her love of shooting from her father. Having a military background,
Wallace was an excellent shot and enjoyed weekend drives to the mountains for target practice.
Once Brenda was old enough, he brought her along. Just know that,
Brenda, there ain't nothing like mountain air here. Who's my old rifle?
What are we aiming for? See? If you can hit that bearcamp?
Easy? Damn not shot, kid, Give me something harder. These
trips to the woods were perhaps the only time Wallace showed Brenda any sign of
love to her successful marksman show. It was the one thing she could do
to keep her dad happy. Over the years, she became an expert shot,
which might explain Christmas morning. You've been hitting at this a while now,
I hope you like it. Oh, I know exactly what it is.
Brenda finished, slashing through the paper, eyes ugging out of her skull.
Her heart suddenly sank. But for your very own gun. Wallace pulled
a new gun out from behind the couch, a Ruger semi automatic twenty two
caliber rifle, the very gun Brenda would use in a few months on the
students. I wanted a radio. This probably was not the only argument Brenda
had with her father, and as she was growing older, she needed someone
to vent to. This came in the form of a young man named Brent
Fleming. Seeing as Brenda has said she's been gay since birth, I doubt
there was a romantic connection between the two, but there was a strong friendship.
One afternoon, they opted to smoke weed instead of at tent class.
Easy tiger, If you can handle it, I can handle it. Give
me another hint. Shit, maam, I'm tired of hiding grass from pigs.
Yeah, it's fucking bullshit. We should shoot him up. Yeah,
wait, what you see that TV special last night? I want to do
something big. Make it into everyone's living room. Yeah, that's fucking genius.
Everyone would know her names. Damn right, pass me the joint.
Fast forward to Sunday, January twenty eighth, just one day before Brenda's attack
on the school. Wallace walked in after a long day keys jingling at his
side. Brenda finished setting dinner on the table and eyed her father's keys.
Where are we haven't leftovers? I guess that'll work. Give me your keys.
I left something in the truck. Brenda hadn't actually left anything in the
truck. All she wanted was the bullets he stashed inside. With these stucked
away, she went back in with a grin ah. The next morning,
Brenda woke up feeling ill. She rolled out of bed, eyes glossy and
hair messy. Since she shared the bedroom with her father, yes, I
know we won't open that can of worms. Sharing the same bedroom as her
father, it wasn't hard for Brenda to walk a few feet to his bed
and say I don't feel well. Really, not wanting to deal with his
daughter, Wallace accepted her excuse and called it into her school before leaving for
work. Brenda watched him drive away, then unleashed her plan. She placed
the black beanie on her head and slipped into a black jacket in khaki pants
before grabbing the scoped rifle. She opened her bedroom window and waited for the
eight thirty bell before taking her first shot at Monica. Meanwhile, Spencer,
who worked in Tory Pines had the news on as she counted money. We
interrupt your morning broadcast with breaking news coming from Grover Cleveland Elementary School and San
Carlos's Brenda's house. Bizarre. Hello, Dot Spencer, I'm which Sand Carlos
PD. We need you to come in for questions regarding your daughter. Well,
I really can't. I have thousands of dollars in my desk and on
the way, ma'am. Police soon had Dot and custody to find out all
they could about her daughter. Back on Lake Atland Avenue, the SWAT team
aimed their guns at Brenda's home for just over six hours as a negotiator called
over and over and an attempt to get her to come out. Finally,
at three o nine pm, the students have been evacuated. There's nobody here
to kill other than my team, and trust me, you even attempt to
injure one of them, and it's lights out. So let me ask you
one final time, what's it going to take to get you out here?
Well, I'm a little hungry. Could I get a whopper from Burger King?
Yes? Several sources say that this actually happened. Brenda emerged from the
house set the rifle on the driveway and allowed officers to take her into custody.
Everybody wanted to know why this young girl, described as no bigger than
a bar of soap would attempt to take so many young lives, sadly asked.
Of July twenty nineteen, there have been twenty two school shootings this year,
but in nineteen seventy nine this was the first. The public wouldn't get
an answer right away, though, as Brenda opted to plead guilty, therefore
forfeiting a jury trial. Initially, police thought she was drunk due to the
amount of empty bottles around the house, but a toxicology report would later show
Brenda had neither alcohol nor drugs in her system. Her hatred for Mondays would
have to be the only answer for now. According to her defense attorney Michael
mclin, Brenda was scared and almost in tears on April fourth, nineteen eighty,
just one day after her eighteenth birthday. Brenda was tried as an adult
and given twenty five years to life and a return of events. She was
allowed the chance at Pearl in thirteen years. Every weekend, Wallace would drive
the five hour round trip to visit Brenda in prison. This was when he
met Sheila, Brenda's seventeen year old sell meate, just wait, that's important,
so was be Sheila? Will you went for You don't have that when
someone's about to be released. Any plans once you're free, going to a
group. But I'd rather stay someplace else, somewhere with a strong guy.
She winked at Wallace and he grinned. After her release, she lived at
a stant at a halfway house, but eventually ran away to live with Wally
after he got her pregnant again seventeen years old, and lived with Wallace's daughter
in prison. One morning, Sheila went outside to grab the paper, and
a patrol car just happened to be driving by Holy shit, Brenda. He
called up the DA. Did Brenda Spencer get released? Oh you must have
seen Sheila. That's Wally Spencer's new girly. She looks just like Brenda.
Trust me, we know, but don't worry. Brenda still locked up tight.
Eventually, Sheila had a daughter and then abandoned both Wallace and child.
As of two thousand and six, the daughter was studying sociology at the University
of California, but doesn't speak about the shooting or her mother. At Wallace's
request, after more than a decade of silence, the public finally got a
glimpse inside the mind of Brenda Spencer when she appeared for an interview. It
was nineteen ninety three and her first parole had just been denied. Brenda's long
hair from the seventies was replaced by a horrendous mullet. During my court appearances,
they left a lot of paperwork out that would have had a lot of
bearing on my trial, such as, well, there's lack there's two sets
of toxicology reports, the ones that went to court with me said I was
on no drugs or alcohol, and then there's an independent lab test from the
same blood samples that show I had blood alcohol levels and a lethal amount of
drugs in my system, and that was never raised in court. If I
had had no drugs or alcohol in my system, then I'm just a cold
blooded killer and that's not who I am. Okay, let's go back to
that morning. Had you been drinking all night? Yeah, I've been drinking
pretty much the whole week before that. I had missed school, like the
whole previous week, So that whole week ahead of time is it's pretty much
a blur. You know, one bottle of booze after another. Okay,
you're on whiskey, PCP. Then what happened? It's Monday morning. I
have a very fragmented memory of the whole day. Mostly what I remember is
what I read in the police reports. I couldn't take you step by step
through the whole day, but I basically know what happened. Brenda is definitely
not a reliable source. Again, toxicology report said she was not on anything
at the time of the shooting. A few years after this interview, in
nineteen ninety eight, Brenda was set for her second parole hearing. As she
nervously waited, reporters set up outside the building, ready to get the scoop
on America's first school shooter. But then Brenda's defense attorney, Keith stim rushed
into the room where Deputy da Andrea Chrisanti waited. She's a withdrawing her request.
What we start in three minutes? I know, I know, but
for reasons we can't go into right now. Brenda has chose to postpone.
I'm sure it's because she knows we're going to deny her parole. Oh well,
saves us some time. Tell her she can try again in three years.
You're not being fair. Brenda's adjusting very well to prison life, and
it's proven to be a model inmate. She even learned how to fix small
appliances. Sure she's been good. Lock anyone up with the hope of a
way out and they'll behave however you want. We think she should still do
life. She killed two people. How can she repay that? How could
we take that risk of killing again if she were released. Brenda's next parole
in two thousand and one didn't go any better. Miss Spencer. On the
morning of the shooting of a reporter asked why you did it, and you
responded, I don't like mondays this livens up the day. Do you still
stand by that. I don't remember talking to any reporters that morning. As
I've told you before, I'd been out all week drinking and doing drugs.
The three member parole board denied her request. At least this time she showed
up. Brenda would appear in court again in two thousand and five, her
hair still gingery, but her wire thin frame replaced by a puffy exterior.
Do you think you'll have trouble finding employment when you leave. No, I
don't. Why not, because I have marketable skills. What would you like
to do upon release. I'd like to drive a forklift what you're doing right
now? Yes. The parole board members looked on, uninterested in anything Brenda
or her advocates had to say. Much like pass parole hearings, Brenda denied
remembering anything about the morning of the shooting. Then let's talk about your state
of mind. You had a failed relationship in prison, that's correct. After
she broke up with you, you took a hot paper clip and branded yourself
with the words courage and pride. Why courage and pride? That's not actually
what it says. It's written in ruins, and I think they made a
mistake when they read it. Okay, what does it say? It says
unforgiven and alone. I see why those words. I always envied the other
kids. My father never wanted me. The kids at school had parents who
love them. I was given a gun on Christmas because my father wanted me
to kill myself with it. Did he tell you that? Not exactly?
How's your relationship with your father? Now we've gotten to be friends. When
I was younger, we had a lot of problems. There's a lot of
abuse. What do you remember in regards to abuse by your father? I
remember being hit in the face a lot, being hit in the ribs,
being yelled at, called names. I remember him coming home from work and
being all mad and smacking me in the head, and on different nights he
would just almost to rape me. Did you say almost like he would touch
me inappropriately? Did your father perform sodomy and that led to digital penetration yes,
and later to intercourse yes. So are you now indicating that there was
actual intercourse? I guess you would call it sodomy. Brenda, do you
have anything else you'd like to say? I realize that nothing I do,
and no amount of time will bring mister Rag or mister Super back, and
it won't erase the fear and stuff that I've given to those kids and mister
Rob. I just want them to know that I'm very sorry, and I
don't know how to make it up to them, but I try every day
to make myself a better person because I don't want anything this horrible to ever
happen again. Brenda has taken away while the Parole Board debated. A mere
fifteen minutes later, she was brought back. At this time, the panel
has come to a decision. Unfortunately, this world is filled with things that
should never happen to children. However, that does not allow them to perpetrate
violence on others. I know how difficult it must be for you, miss
Spencer, to be able to come out here in front of all these people
and talk about something that you have kept silent for so many years. I
think Miss Spencer has made a breakthrough. She is attempting not to be the
person she was so many years ago. This is not a life without possibility
of parole. She does have the right to be reviewed. It is not
reasonable to expect the parole will be granted in the next four years. Good
luck, Miss Spencer. Thank you. This hearing is a journey. Brenda
would return once again in two thousand and nine for a parole hearing, where
she brought up not remembering the morning her alleged drug use and sexual abuse.
Once again, the board recommended she continued to be a model inmate and stay
on medication. This time though, she would not be eligible for another hearing
until August twenty nineteen. The shooting at Grover Cleveland Elementary would forever change the
lives of Americans and all of those involved. Cam Miller, the boy wearing
his blue vest the morning of the shooting, learned blue was Brenda's favorite color.
Still to this day, he can't bring himself to wear anything blue.
As for America, I believe there's a piece of innocence stripped away that day
when we learned even children weren't safe going to familiar place like school. Most
people didn't believe Brenda's shot simply because she hated Mondays, and everyone has an
opinion on who's really to blame. Brenda's mother feels partially responsible. In two
thousand and five, she claimed that if she had stayed with Wally a bit
longer, she may have been able to give Brenda more loving upbringing. Some
say Wallace is to blame for providing Brenda with the gun that Christmas. To
that all he had to say was none of their damn business. Of course,
many take the same view as Principal Burton Rag's daughter. Unless someone else's
hand was holding Brenda's finger as she pulled the trigger, there's nobody else to
blame but her. I will say, if there's any redeeming quality. To
Brenda, It's this her two thousand and one parole hearing. She stood before
the board and proclaimed, with every school shooting, I feel I'm partially responsible.
What if they got their idea from what I did. It's hard to
say whether we would have school shootings today had Brenda Spencer not picked up a
gun that morning. Nobody's asking for my opinion, But even if Brenda had
been stopped, someone else would have inevitably open fire first. All we can
do now is hope that someday, very soon, we will see the last
of violence on innocent people. The Case of the Mondays was written and produced
by me Skyler Fastenow, Amy Yuell voice Brenda Spencer, Fred Fastenow voice Principal
Rag and Parole Board member, Christian Kropora voice Wallace Spencer, Cam Miller and
Gus Stevens Keelan Brown voice Mister Barnes, reporter and Officer, Daniel Jones voiced
Officer Rob Sheila and Bred Fleming, Taylor Walter voice Dot Spencer and Monica Selvic.
Mike Allen voice Chester Thurston the Third and Richard Sachs Ryan call voice,
Mike Sucker and Keith Stanton, Heather Geysler voiced Da Chrysanti and Linda Selvic,
Shane A. Hammer voice, Colleen Davidson, Julie Sestanovich voice Kam's mom,
and Alec Nielsen voice Crystal Hardy. The memory of Burton Rag and Mike's super
has been memorialized by a plaque at the site Burton fell, even though the
school was closed and the eighties and the site was being redeveloped a few years
ago. To my knowledge, the plaque still remains in place. If you
enjoyed this episode, make sure to subscribe, rate, and leave a comment
on this podcast. It helps out a lot. You can also check out
Instagram and Facebook for updates on the podcast and behind the scenes photos. Don't
forget that Deadtime Stories is a bi weekly podcast, so I will be back
with another chapter in two weeks. Until then, stay safe out there.