As the clock inched past midnight into July 31, 1977, the great metropolis was in turmoil. A task force of three hundred cops -- by itself larger than most American police departments -- was hunting Son of Sam in one of the deadliest scenarios ever staged in the real-life theater of New York City. An expansive dragnet draped Queens and the Bronx, the preferred stalking grounds. They didn't think the menace would evade their porous net and invade Brooklyn. They were wrong.

In the predawn hours of July 31, a young man sprayed four shots from a .44 Bulldog into a car parked in a Brooklyn lovers' lane, fatally wounding Stacy Moskowitz and partially blinding her date. It was the eighth and final attack, and it happened as our seaside analysis of the case continued forty miles east in Davis Park. That irony would remain with me always.

Eleven nights later, a parking ticket he received near the Brooklyn scene finally led a befuddled NYPD to suburban Yonkers, New York, and the owner of that cited Ford Galaxie. His name was David Berkowitz, and he was a stocky, twenty-four-year-old postal employee and army veteran who had patrolled the frozen demilitarized zone in Korea before returning to his native Bronx in 1974.

Berkowitz, whom police never considered a suspect until a few hours before his fortuitous capture, went quietly. He eagerly confessed to being a lone marauder who had terrorized New York for thirteen agonizing months. The fact that his confession was fatally flawed was buried by the avalanche of euphoria and police promotions that followed. It mattered, too, that a New York City mayoral primary, in which the incumbent was lagging in the polls, was on the immediate horizon. It was time for the case to end and for the mayor's camp to garner credit.

From the outset, I was skeptical of Berkowitz's claim of sole culpability, and those suspicions marked the beginning of a perilous investigative odyssey destined to continue for many years. During that time, I traveled from completely outside the case to a point where I was able to uncover the many horrific secrets hidden within its very core. The trail led from the hushed silence of a church in Palo Alto, California, to the mansions of Beverly Hills, and from the golden wheat fields of North Dakota to the posh decadence of Long Island's Hamptons and the squalor of a half-dozen prisons.

This book, which chronicles that harrowing voyage deep inside one of America's most infamous cases, was first published in 1987. It was updated two years later and has now been brought into 1999 by virtue of this introduction and a comprehensive new epilogue.

However, this is not a Son of Sam story. On the surface is the enigmatic David Berkowitz, but far below is an infinitely more frightening specter -- a highly motivated and well-organized cult group whose various criminal enterprises included the .44 homicides. While using the trappings of the occult, the group's main goals were power, greed and terrorism. It is the embodiment of organized evil, and it still stains America on the eve of the millennium. It has thrived because its tentacles ensnared a number of jaded allies whose influential positions enabled it to extend far beyond New York.

So, more than anything else, this book is an examination of a volatile consortium which evolved with the times, altered its face and constructed a facade which it burrowed into the 1990s American landscape. But beneath the contemporary veneer, it remains what it always was: a well-connected criminal cabal which some authorities today regard as "active and dangerous" because they believe it is presently aligned with a number of incendiary U.S. hate groups, radical movements and militias.

To understand why the Son of Sam and other related killings happened and how those ultimately the most responsible for them managed to continue their operations to the present day, it is perhaps beneficial to pose a few questions.

Did the government deceive the public about Vietnam, Watergate and Iran-Contra? It did. Did the government fatally fumble the 1993 standoff at the Branch-Davidian compound in Waco, Texas? It did. Was the FBI implicated in a cover-up in the 1992 shooting deaths of the wife and son of separatist Randy Weaver at Ruby Ridge, Idaho -- and was it later blamed for also botching the 1996 bombing case at the Atlanta Olympics? It was.

In general terms, have so-called servants of the public misled that same public about a host of other misdeeds on national, state and local levels over the course of many decades? They have. And do deceptions, cover-ups and blatant bureaucratic ineffectiveness continue to incubate in various forms throughout the United States today? They certainly do.

In Son of Sam's New York City hunting grounds, the 1970s saw the noted Knapp Commission hearings into widespread police corruption. In the 1990s, the Mollen Commission undertook the same distasteful task, and a smattering of serious scandals continued to erupt in NYPD precincts into 1999.

In 1995, former NYPD officer Eugene O'donnell, a professor of police studies at Manhattan's John Jay College of Criminal Justice, wrote: "Cops believe the department is driven not by a commitment to public service, but by the desire to deceive the press and public into believing things that are not true."

Even in that context, I was still somewhat surprised when I uncovered irrefutable evidence of just how badly the Son of Sam case was mishandled by a select number of top police officials. Later, when I came to comprehend why that happened -- for reasons that transcended simple incompetence -- my surprise dissipated.

To be sure, hundreds of dedicated police officers worked feverishly on a tremendously draining .44 investigation in 1976 and 1977. They weren't the problem. In the pyramid structure of the system, information flowed upward, leaving field cops with knowledge of only isolated fragments of the case. But at the top, a small group of police brass, politicians and the office of the then-district attorney of Brooklyn, in particular, were privy to all the accumulated data.

And it was at those levels where some of the strongest evidence of conspiracy was suppressed. As Eugene O'donnell wrote of the NYPD, "I believe that what has developed over the past two decades is a department infested with a huge level of cynicism." In one example of that attitude, the NYPD held the largest promotions ceremony in its history before the ink was dry on Berkowitz's fingerprints. Careers were made, reputations enhanced. It was all constructed on a foundation of sand, and -- quite frankly -- on the graves of future victims.

Concurrently, New York Mayor Abraham Beame was up for reelection and was trailing badly in the polls as the Sam case heated up. He almost closed a cavernous gap in the wake of Berkowitz's arrest -- with his highly visible portrayal as the man in charge whose police department just happened to end the reign of terror only a month before the primary. But despite his phoenixlike rise from the ashes, Beame narrowly lost that election and was out of office several months later.

To state the obvious: new mayors initiate high-level changes in large police departments. Thus, many in power had a vested interest in a timely, uncomplicated resolution of the Son of Sam case. But the evidence reveals more than that. It also shows that events were manipulated behind the scenes by a handful of influential individuals who, although not directly involved in the shootings themselves, were compromised because they had interacted with cult leaders at high-society drug parties that featured sex with children.

Jerry Moskowitz, father of .44 victim Stacy, told me his cousin was a judge in Brooklyn, where it was common courthouse gossip that the case was butchered. Likewise, Carl Denaro, a surviving victim, said in 1997: "By now, anybody who knows anything about this knows that Berkowitz had accomplices."

Mike Lauria, father of the first victim, Donna Lauria, also believes Berkowitz acted with others. "I know he killed my daughter -- but he had help in all of it," Lauria stated. Robert Violante, who lost most of his vision in the attack that killed Stacy Moskowitz, is yet another who no longer accepts the official version put forth in 1977. "I tend to believe Berkowitz was part of a satanic cult," Violante stated in a 1995 interview.

Queens District Attorney John Santucci, in whose jurisdiction five Son of Sam attacks occurred, knew the case was muddled. He pushed for a trial, but was vilified for opposing the planned acceptance of Berkowitz's guilty pleas by the two other district attorneys in the case. Santucci was bucking the tide and was pressured into backing away -- which he did for seventeen months until reopening the investigation when my newspaper articles about a Son of Sam conspiracy offered him the opportunity he'd wanted all along.

"When I moved on it, there was no cooperation from the police department and the other district attorneys, and that response was more than a little troubling," Santucci told me. In the early 1980s, Santucci was again angered when a few valued prison informants inexplicably were transferred away from Berkowitz. "I think there's big money and influence somewhere in this, and if I could prove it, I'd go public," he said.

That assessment is worth remembering, as evidence developed since 1996 has demonstrated the district attorney was a prophet.

Santucci, who eventually announced his investigation's conclusion that Berkowitz did not act alone, retired in the early 1990s. By then I had moved on to other cases and various TV projects. But the Son of Sam matter was never far from my mind. Television programs asked for updates; radio talk shows liked to explore it -- and, of course, there was Berkowitz himself.

Unlike a number of other high-profile criminals, Berkowitz kept himself invisible. He ignored the regular interview requests he received from the press, which in itself said something. In all those years, he'd never spoken to the media about the true story of the case. In television terms, he was the biggest "get" out there, but he wouldn't talk to anyone.

In the early 1980s, he and I exchanged several letters during a time when he was quietly trying to aid the investigation. Then he fell silent, expressing concern for his family's safety and stating that whatever I or the district attorney's staff discovered was fine with him -- but he wasn't going to participate clandestinely any longer. After that, we didn't communicate for ten years.

So, without Berkowitz or another accomplice who was willing to talk, there wasn't much more I could do to help the Queens district attorney's office move the case into a courtroom. Likewise, Santucci's staff felt stymied. As Assistant District Attorney Herb Leifer put it then, "We're confident David didn't act alone, but we need an insider -- either Berkowitz or someone else -- so we can put this entire package in front of a grand jury."

So, just as the door seemed closed for good, it opened again in 1993, when out of the blue Berkowitz agreed to tell me his story on national television -- but only as much as he felt safe in doing. He wanted the interview to be done by me because he knew I was keenly aware of the case's complexities.

That interview, the first Berkowitz did about the Son of Sam shootings, was broadcast on Inside Edition in November 1993. The program devoted three entire shows to the story, and the case exploded into the headlines again. The investigation advanced further in 1997, when I questioned Berkowitz for New York's WABC-TV in an award-winning series that was expanded to a national one-hour special on the A&E network's Investigative Reports.

Concurrently, the police department in suburban Yonkers, where Berkowitz had lived, opened a probe in 1996 and developed important new leads. The entire case, which actually covered many years before and after Berkowitz's era, surged forward to the point that indictments are now within the realm of possibility -- the direct result of evidence uncovered in the late 1990s.

In fact, at least in layman's terms, the case is now effectively "solved." Significantly, the major players have been identified, along with many who served other functions in the overall scenario. Still, several intangibles will eventually determine whether the evidence is destined for a courtroom.

No matter what the future holds, I hope that maybe -- just maybe -- the lessons learned from this investigation will help ensure that such horror and related official transgressions will not go unrecognized in the future. If the press is to be the government's watchdog, it might be mindful that its goal is to transcend simple reporting of what is often merely self-serving "spin" hidden under a wardrobe of purported truth.

Likewise, federal agencies such as the FBI might better serve the public if they remained awake at the wheel. The .44 shootings did not fit the Bureau's vaunted serial killings profile: they were "clean" executions which involved no physical or sexual contact with the victims. But no one focused on that and other anomalies, and major clues went by the board.

Similarly, the Bureau's inability to identify the domestic threat posed by the Sam cult's terrorist-minded allies is worthy of scrutiny. It is inconceivable that this subversive foreign group, unveiled in this book, was not thoroughly investigated, arrested or at the very least banished from the United States years before the Son of Sam killings.

The Immigration and Naturalization Service also figures into the equation. The INS did expel a number of these individuals from the United States in late 1968, but all of them soon returned to resume their activities unfettered -- and they continue to operate today.

These unsettling thoughts peered over my shoulder in the darkness of July 31, 1998, when I once again stood on the dune stairs in Davis Park and listened to the crashing surf -- an angry surf -- unlike the placid pond the Atlantic had been on that anniversary weekend night in '77.

So much had changed since then. There was tragedy: one of my sources, a sensitive Yonkers teenager, hung himself; another died of a puzzling overdose of medication; and a reporter helping me -- a friend -- was killed in a car wreck after confronting a suspect. There was no overt evidence of murder, but the timing and circumstances remain troubling.

Sadly, others featured in this book have died since its original publication. Among them Cäcilia Davis, John Diel, Harry Lipsig, Jim Mitteager, Jerry Moskowitz, Nann Cassara, Carl Kelly, Sal D'Iorio, Joseph Strano, Veronica Lueken, Dave Spence and Craig Glassman -- who succumbed on Halloween night 1991 when his car skidded into a tree. Also, Sam Carr, who was but one step removed from the crimes, died in 1996. Not surprisingly, his remaining family kept news of his death from the media.

Time and circumstance haven't smiled on some who were on the wrong side of the case, either. Although many remain alive, at least twenty-one of Berkowitz's associates, suspects at varying levels of culpability, have perished since his arrest. Many of them died by violent means, including murder. The most recent was a suicide in late 1998. It is a remarkable and telling total since most were still quite young in the late 1970s.

But there have been positive highlights, too. Along the way were dozens of articles for the Gannett newspapers, a handful of magazine stories and numerous television specials -- one of which earned United Press International's annual Enterprise Award for investigative reporting. In 1997, the most recent television presentation received similar honors from the Associated Press.

I have also lectured on "major cases" and ritual crime at law enforcement seminars, and my work was incorporated into a training course for several police departments in the Midwest. In addition, the Congress of Racial Equality (CORE) sought my counsel in the Atlanta child-murders probe, and I conducted a reinvestigation of California's celebrated unsolved Zodiac killings. These and other cases, including that of O. J. Simpson and New York's notorious Steinberg-Nussbaum child homicide probe, came my way as a result of my work on the "Ultimate Evil" investigation.

The names of all suspects and the details provided by all informants are in the hands of the authorities. If my safety or that of anyone close to me is ever jeopardized, several people whose names grace the top of a special list will come under rapid and intense scrutiny. Several of those individuals can't be named in this book, but all are at least referenced as to profession, place of residence and the like.

Finally, throughout the inquiry, the disdainful face of what intelligence operatives term "disinformation" leered over my shoulder. It emanated from a small, self-interested and highly deceptive platoon of NYPD apologists and from a smattering of others -- all of whom were awash in factual ignorance of the case. For instance, a psychiatrist who knew nothing about the evidence suggested in print that there was no conspiracy. Why? Because Berkowitz had refused to answer his questions about it.

Over the years, I have been asked why I put any faith in Berkowitz. The answer to that question is simple. I didn't believe Berkowitz, per se, but I certainly believed in the clear-cut, conclusive quality of the evidence -- evidence unearthed long before he ever uttered the words "conspiracy" or "cult." Only then, when information gathered from prison was buttressed by existing data or confirmed through follow-up investigation, did I acknowledge his credibility.

One author -- who never met Berkowitz but wrote a book about him -- proclaimed David was "terrifying." I have met Berkowitz many times, and I don't find him terrifying. Rather, the real terror lies in the national expanse of the Son of Sam and related cases, and in the knowledge that many of those involved, including masterminds, are still walking the streets today.

That is the bottom line. But the opening line -- although no one knew it then -- was written in blood more than two decades ago, on a serene university campus in California.