In total, Sam served in Afghanistan for fifteen months. When his tour was complete, he was sent back to Germany for his final eleven months in the military and finally had the opportunity to enjoy the travel he had envisioned when he signed up. Whenever he had a few days off, he and his friends would fly around Europe—to France, Spain, Italy, Holland, and the Czech Republic, among other locations.
“We’d be out in a bar together, and one of us would just name a city—Paris or Ibiza,” said Miles Foltz. “And it was like, ‘Fuck it. Let’s go.’”
Sam had several cousins in Israel, and he and Miles traveled there. The journey lasted eleven days. It was 2009, and the Israeli government was battling guerillas from Hamas, a militarized group opposed to the occupation of Palestinian lands by the Jewish state. At one stage, Sam and Miles were driving outside of Tel Aviv when they heard the familiar sound of rocket fire. They tore down the highway, laughing hysterically.
“Look at this,” Miles pointed out. “We’re just out of a war zone, we’re on vacation, and we’re still getting rocketed.”
Back in Germany, Sam’s friends made frequent observations about his voracious appetite, particularly in the commissary. Squad leader Larry “Gonzo” Gonzales noted that the Army withdrew $250 every month from each soldier’s paycheck, but Sam earned his money back in food. At night, he’d sometimes stack three trays on top of one another and cart them to his room.
Off-base, Sam became fixated with döners, Mediterranean-accented dishes featuring rotisserie-cooked lamb. Because of the large influx of Turkish immigrants to Germany, there were döner shops everywhere, and Sam wanted to try them all. Gonzo recalled Sam finishing his meal quickly—he was the only U.S. serviceman known to devour three döners in a row—then staring hungrily as his friend consumed his. Occasionally, Sam beseeched the proprietor to open a franchise in Orange County.
Even when Gonzo was working late, Sam could always convince him to go out to a club on Friday night. Sam generally bought the first few rounds of drinks and encouraged Gonzo to do the funky chicken or other ridiculous dances. When Gonzo complied, Sam seemed happier than he’d ever been.
For all the male bonding, Sam also developed a serious relationship with a German girl who lived close to the base. After he returned to the States in May 2009, he arranged for Katharina to join him and immediately introduced her to his parents. Although Raquel spoke German, Katharina addressed her in fluent English. Like Sam, Katharina was plain-spoken and fun. She seemed to enjoy herself in California but missed her family in Germany. Still, she’d visit Sam for weeks, and sometimes months, at a time.
Sam referred to her as his fiancée. They were in the process of figuring out where they’d ultimately live when Sam’s life was cut short.
Because of all the time he’d spent at war, Sam had accumulated some sixty-two thousand dollars in combat pay and hoped to eventually purchase a house. In the interim, he didn’t feel a great deal of financial pressure as he transitioned back to civilian life. He still missed the Army, as well as his friends who continued to serve. For the time being, though, he was staying put in Orange County.
Like many veterans, Sam struggled with night terrors, flashbacks to the war that occurred while he was sleeping. Yet he learned to cope with the condition and expected it to ease over time. The Army had taught Sam to rely on his own strength. Both physically and psychologically, he believed that he could handle anything.
Socializing had never been a problem for Sam. But he’d come back from his overseas tours with leadership qualities that drew even more people around him. Men considered him a “guy’s guy.” Women found him magnetic, witty, and chivalrous.
He was particularly proud of his attitude about gays in the military. He told his cousin Leah, who had come out as a lesbian, that—although the U.S. armed services still had a “don’t ask, don’t tell” policy while he was serving—he considered it his duty to look out for gay soldiers who might feel uncomfortable. Not long after Sam’s return, he and Leah were walking with her small daughter, Sonia. After so much time abroad, Sam was enjoying his time with the relative he viewed as an older sister. Leah and her wife, Tanya, had named Sonia after the cousins’ great-grandmother, and Sam was gratified by the link to the family’s past. As they wandered down a pier overlooking the Pacific Ocean, the group spotted a homeless man approaching an attractive female. They couldn’t hear the dialogue, but it was obvious that the vagrant wanted something. When the woman tried to walk away, the man became more demanding, blocking her path.
Sam didn’t even hesitate before he intervened. “Man, listen,” he said authoritatively as he stepped between the two. “You need to stand back.”
The homeless man surveyed Sam for a moment and concluded that this was one confrontation that he didn’t want. Sam nodded reassuringly at the woman as she walked away quickly.
“He handled it with grace,” Leah said. “He was big and strong, and he used his size to make others feel safe.”
By this point, Sam had moved into the Camden Martinique apartments in Costa Mesa, a series of stucco terraced buildings with adobe roofs, indistinguishable from hundreds of other apartment complexes in Southern California. There was a swimming pool and gymnasium, along with Jacuzzis and strategically placed laundry rooms. Given the proximity to Orange Coast College, there was a youthful feel to the development. “It was almost like a Melrose Place kind of thing,” said one prosecutor, comparing the Camden Martinique apartments to the 1990s prime-time soap opera, “kind of a vibrant social scene.”
“It’s such a nice community,” Daniel Wozniak said in an interview with police. “Everyone’s friends.”
On the surface, the verdant landscaping and generally sunny climate created an idyllic flavor. But all was not how it seemed. Every month, the assistant property manager would testify, residents of between seventy-five and one hundred apartments in the 714-unit complex received delinquency notices, warning them to make good on their late rent or risk eviction.
“Aesthetically, it looks nice,” one resident complained to an author circulating on the grounds. “But last month, I had my motorcycle stolen. And now, I’m walking around trying to find the guy who got on my balcony and took my surfboard.”
Having survived Camp Keating, Sam wasn’t frightened of running into a surfboard thief. The Camden Martinique apartments were perfect for the lifestyle he was living. It was close to his parents and other relatives and even closer to Orange Coast College, where he was developing a fondness for political science. Once he earned his four-year degree, he’d be in an ideal position to reenter the military as an officer.
“You get more pay,” Steve said, “and, obviously, more respect.”
Very quickly Sam began befriending his neighbors, learning little snippets of their life stories. On the surface, Daniel Patrick Wozniak seemed to have some of the same outgoing qualities as Sam.
He was born one year after Sam, on March 23, 1984, and had lived in Orange County his entire life. Allyson Hathcock remembered meeting Dan at Los Alamitos High School, where he was one grade ahead of her. Both were in the choir, as well as the theater department. She recalled a tall, handsome, grinning student with a wardrobe consisting of a variety of Hawaiian shirts. “Real personable,” she said. “Life of the party. He played the jester, but he was also very helpful.”
The two appeared together in the musical comedy Once upon a Mattress, an adaption of the Hans Christian Andersen fairy tale “The Princess and the Pea.” Dan was a junior, but he went out of his way to assist freshmen who were in the show and make them feel welcome. “Everybody knew him,” she said. “Everybody liked him.”
Because of their mutual interests, the two attended a number of the same parties, but, after graduation, Allyson lost touch with Dan until she’d graduated from college and he auditioned for a play at the theater her parents, Jeff and Nancy, had opened on the Joint Forces Training Base, a military installation in Los Alamitos.
Despite the fact that Hollywood was so close by, Dan had remained local, attending California State University in Long Beach and majoring in drama. He’d been intrigued by the acting profession since childhood, characterizing himself in his MySpace description as a “nerd” who loved science-fiction and fantasy films. But he had wide-ranging tastes when it came to movies, and many of the cinematic choices he listed seemed to reflect his lighthearted public persona: Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory, Ace Ventura: Pet Detective, Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure, Airplane, Groundhog Day, Weekend at Bernie’s, Animal House, Tommy Boy, and The Wedding Singer.
His favorite books included the Bible, The Da Vinci Code, The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, and—given the events that later transpired—two titles that appeared to provide insight into the way he thought and operated: The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde and How to Win Friends and Influence People.
Certainly, a stranger viewing his social media preferences would come away with the sense that, for all his quirks, Dan was an upstanding young man. He described his heroes as “God, my parents, the men and women in the military, and any single person in this world who is willing to take a stand and fight for what is right!”
Yet, in another entry, he wrote: “I’m a pretty easy going guy” with a penchant for getting “into some kind of trouble.” He joked that his best friends would describe him as “deceitful, dishonest, egotistical and untrustworthy.” He ranted about “how quickly the world can turn against you … Come on, face it, life will screw you over one way or another. My best advice to everyone is this: live each day of your life to the fullest as if it were your last!”
* * *
Sam didn’t confine his new friendships to the apartment complex. Ruben Menacho met Sam on the first day of classes at Orange Coast College. Unlike Wozniak, Ruben and Sam seemed to have an unspoken understanding of each other.
Ruben had been born in Bolivia, and his family bounced back and forth between the United States and his home country throughout his childhood. Like Sam, he struggled to stay focused during his late teens. He attempted to attend college in Bolivia but spent more time drinking than studying. Returning to the United States, he realized that he needed discipline and joined the Marine Corps.
The two veterans were seated on opposite sides in their communications class when the teacher asked the students to describe their lives. Sam stood up and spoke about his experiences in the Army. Then, Ruben went.
“My name is Ruben Menacho,” he began. “I’m a United States Marine.”
Sam patiently listened to the impromptu speech before rising, crossing the room, and taking a seat at the desk adjoining Ruben’s.
“From now on, you’re stuck with me, buddy,” Sam announced. “You’re my friend now.”
He wasn’t joking. From that point forward, the two saw each other almost daily. Sam introduced Ruben to other friends, as well as Steve.
Ruben was impressed by the way Steve would show up at his son’s apartment and just hang out, watching television and exchanging anecdotes with Sam’s other friends. It seemed so natural. Sam’s behavior didn’t change around his father. Whatever Sam thought just came out of his mouth. And Steve was equally honest.
One day, when father and son were alone, the pair launched into a discussion about death. “You’re our only boy, our only child,” Steve said. “The only thing I ask is that, when I’m gone, you take care of your mom.”
“Why are you talking like that?” Sam replied. “You’re one of the healthiest guys I know. Nothing’s going to happen to you.”
Steve nodded. “I know. I know. But listen, it’s something to think about. You’re a young man. I’m going to be going first.”
Sam acknowledged his father’s words. After the challenges of Sam’s late teens and his encounters in the war zone, he was looking forward to a long, satisfying life.