Marilyn Monroe Was Killed With A Drink By Bobby Kennedy

Frank was Sinatra, Sam was Giancana — head of the Chicago mob. The next entry was confused: ‘Frank, Peter and others were there. Frank said I can’t keep my f****** mouth shut. He told me to get out. I don’t know why he’s treating me this way. What happened to me? I was drunk. I don’t remember. Did I have sex?’

In the days after that, her diary entries were angry: ‘They are not calling back. Bob and John used me. I told Peter they’re ignoring me. I’m not going to stand for that. I’m going to tell everyone about us.’

And, after a phone call to actor and occasional lover Jose Bolanos: ‘I told Jose I’m going to tell the world about them. They used me. I’m not a whore. Jose said don’t tell anyone about this. It’s dangerous.’

Rothmiller scoured the archive for clues. He uncovered rumours that Marilyn had an abortion in mid-July 1962, on Bobby Kennedy’s orders. But the precise sequence of events that ended in her death was still unclear.

All these disjointed scraps might never have been knitted together, if one Saturday in 1982, on his day off, Rothmiller had not paid a chance visit to Hugh Hefner’s Playboy Mansion in Holmby Hills, L.A.

A visit to the mansion was something of a busman’s holiday for Rothmiller; it was his job to gather intelligence on the lives of celebrities, sports figures, politicans, the wealthy and Mafia figures. He was taking his wife, Nancy and two of their friends on a tour because he wanted to impress them.

Next to the painting was a cloakroom, with a TV set blaring. Rothmiller glanced inside and recognised Peter Lawford, slumped in front of the screen. He had so many things to ask Lawford; now fate had provided him with a chance encounter with the last known living person to see Marilyn and, as he knew from the OCID files, Robert Kennedy, that fatal evening.

The actor seemed very drunk, out of it, so seizing the opportunity, the detective slipped his business card into Lawford’s shirt pocket, with the words ‘Call me’ written on the back.

Rothmiller already knew that Robert Kennedy had been in Los Angeles on the day Monroe died, a fact that had been denied for many years by the LAPD. He knew there had been a cover up by the LAPD. But of exactly what, and how?

A week later, Lawford called, wary and paranoid. He seemed convinced that Rothmiller was with the CIA. They arranged to meet at a park off Sunset Boulevard the following Saturday.

Rothmiller said he was investigating the death of Marilyn, and reassured the actor that he was not wearing a ‘wire’ or recording device. He wrote up the interview as soon as he could, from memory.

At first, Lawford gave him the official version, the story he had been telling for 20 years — how the actress called him on the day she died, sounding woozy and low. She asked him to say goodbye to the President for her — ‘and say goodbye to yourself because you’re a nice guy’.

Lawford claimed he called the emergency services. When they arrived at her home in Brentwood, west L.A., she was already dead. ‘That’s not what happened,’ Rothmiller retorted. And when Lawford blustered, he added that he knew the truth... because the LAPD had bugged his home.

The bluff worked. Lawford opened up, revealing every detail of how she died — starting with the horrific events at Sinatra’s lodge party.

The lodge was part of a casino resort owned by Sinatra and the mob, on the border of Nevada and California, at Lake Tahoe. Marilyn flew there for the last weekend in July, on the singer’s private jet.

Lawford was present but kept his distance, he said, following a row with Sinatra. He saw the singer plying Marilyn with alcohol and guessed what was going to happen.

She was carried, semi-conscious, into a back room where she was raped by Giancana. Then she was pawed and abused by a group of men and women. Pictures were taken for potential blackmail material. Some featured her with prostitutes.

When Marilyn woke up, Sinatra bawled her out in public, warning her to say nothing about her affairs with the Kennedys. Then she was left to sleep off her ordeal, and sent home the following day.

But threats, sexual violence and blackmail would not silence Marilyn Monroe. They only made her more angry.

She told anyone who would listen that she was going to tell the truth about the Kennedys. The day before she died, an interview appeared in Life magazine, in which she vowed she did not care if her career ended: ‘Fame will go by, and so long, I’ve had you, fame.’

According to Lawford, Bobby Kennedy decided to pay Marilyn a visit himself. On Saturday August 4, 1962 he flew to LA, where Lawford met him. He phoned the actress from Lawford’s beach house in Santa Monica and the two men drove to her home.

When Kennedy ordered her to hand over her diary, Marilyn lost her temper and started waving a kitchen knife. Lawford placated her and steered Kennedy out of the house.

But they returned in the evening, when Marilyn seemed hazy – under the influence of drink or drugs, though not intoxicated. Once again, the scene quickly became heated. ‘What do I want?’ the actress yelled at Kennedy. ‘What do I want? I don’t want to be treated like a f****** whore and ignored!’

Kennedy, his blood rising, shook his fist in her face. She slapped it away. Seizing her wrists, he swore in her face. She struggled free and slapped him.

While Kennedy searched the house for Marilyn’s diary, Lawford sat with her on the sofa in the living room, trying to calm her. The row simmered and erupted repeatedly, as the Attorney-General upended drawers in search of the red book and Marilyn screamed at him to leave. He kept threatening her, alternately warning her to ‘shut your mouth’ and promising to pay her off. Eventually, Kennedy went into the kitchen and fraught calm descended. Lawford left Marilyn’s side and went to plead with his friend to leave, before neighbours called the police.

Kennedy was stirring a glass of water with a spoon. He appeared to be pouring something into it. Lawford asked what he was doing. ‘Nothing!’ snapped Kennedy.

Marilyn was weeping with her head in her hands when the two men went back into the living room. ‘Drink this, you’ll feel better,’ Kennedy told her. Assuming the water was dosed with a sedative, Lawford encouraged her to drink it. She took a sip, and remarked that it tasted unpleasant.

Kennedy urged her to finish it. Marilyn drained the glass and lay back. Now that she was quiet, both men searched the whole house, but did not find the diary.

When they went back to the living room, Marilyn had not moved. She was leaning back with her head tilted backward and appeared to be sleeping. Kennedy shook her shoulder until a groggy and obviously drugged Marilyn stirred.

Her voice was a whisper, slurred and unintelligible. Kennedy said her name, but she seemed to pass out and didn’t respond.

Lawford asked Kennedy, ‘What did you give her?’ Kennedy stared at her, then turned to Lawford but didn’t answer.

Now she was showing no signs of life. Lawford shook her but her complexion was turning waxen. ‘She’s not breathing,’ he said. ‘What do we do?’

‘Leave her,’ Kennedy said. They went to the door, and were confronted by two men. Lawford thought at first they were neighbours, then realised they were plain-clothes detectives or secret service agents.

For a moment, Lawford thought his career and Bobby Kennedy’s were over. But the politician nodded briefly to the men, who pushed past them into the house.

‘Who are they?’ Lawford demanded as they hurried back to the car. Kennedy didn’t reply. He got into the back of the Lincoln Continental and demanded to be taken to the airport.

Lawford was in shock. He knew Marilyn was not merely ‘out of it’. She was dead. His brain spinning and tumbling with fear, he stopped thinking clearly. He had to drive Bobby Kennedy to the airport but found himself confused as to what direction to go.

The bizarre experience of an L.A. traffic cop confirms this sequence of events and explains what happened next.

Detective Lynn Franklin saw a Lincoln Continental doing 70mph, twice the legal limit, heading east on the city’s Olympic Boulevard, at 12.10am on Sunday August 5.

When he pulled the car over, he recognised Lawford and asked: ‘Pete, what the hell do you think you’re doing?’

‘I’m trying to get the Attorney-General to the airport,’ retorted the actor.

Franklin shone his flashlight into the back of the car. He saw Kennedy: ‘He didn’t look happy,’ he remembered. The cop pointed out they were heading in the wrong direction. ‘I told you, stupid!’ yelled the man in the back.

Detective Franklin — who was one of Beverley Hills Police Department’s most decorated officers — recounted this in his 1999 book The Beverly Hills Murder File. Rothmiller, of course, did not need Franklin’s evidence to know that Robert Kennedy had been in town that day, as it was all a matter of OCID record.

Back at the house in Brentwood, an LAPD search team found the diary, and disposed of the glass that Kennedy gave Marilyn. Her naked body was posed for photographs, both with and without a telephone in her hand.

The print that was released to the press showed her face down, holding the receiver, though post mortem results showed that her corpse lay on its back for some time immediately after death.

The post mortem also showed that sedatives, nembutal and chloral hydrate, were found in her body. But Rothmiller believes that the drink Bobby Kennedy gave her contained a military grade lethal poison, probably supplied to Bobby by the CIA — a substance the toxicology available at the time was too primitive to trace.

Peter Lawford died, an alcoholic wreck, in 1984. Rothmiller has never doubted the truth of his confession.

Peter Lawford died, an alcoholic wreck, in 1984. Rothmiller has never doubted the truth of his confession.

‘During my years of interviewing victims and interrogating suspects,’ he says, ‘I had only seen this type of response a few times. It was clear he had been carrying the burden of guilt for many years and, in all likelihood, this guilt had destroyed his career and, sadly, him as a human being.

‘But now he appeared comforted and serene, having released the horrible burden he’d been forced to carry.’

Adapted from Bombshell: The Night Bobby Kennedy Killed Marilyn Monroe by Mike Rothmiller and Douglas Thompson, published by Ad Lib on July 8 at £8.99. © Mike Rothmiller and Douglas Thompson 2021

OP And they said there would never be another Jacqueline Suzanne.

Sorry, don't know what happened with pasting, but the cop was at the Playboy mansion and saw Peter Lawford drunk and gave his card and said to call him. They met at a park off Sunset Blvd. That's how they met for the interview/confession.

In his final years Peter Lawford was a fucked up drug addict who would tell anyone what they wanted to here for a hit of coke.

I can't confidently say Bobby murdered Marilyn but we know Lucky Luciano's partner Joe Kennedy raised his sons to consider themselves above the laws and rules of society. If he did it this would not be a shock.

He could have taken photos of the documents if he feared the photocopy machine.

Where was Marilyn's live-in maid during this?

Why would Marilyn drink Bobby's unpleasant mix?

Where are the photos from the Cal-Neva Lodge?

Where do you think he would get the film developed R9?

^ Well I'm fucking shocked!

R10. Woolworths

And the person developing the film would know about the documents R12.

Nothing about this woman's death has ever made much sense. She was fucked up for sure. But that made it quite simple for anyone to do anything with her. Bitch was crazy and an absolute mess.

Marilyn died from Carbon Monoxide poisoning. She accidentally locked herself in her garage and the fumes from her stretched out, ganged banged, rotted pussy overtook her whore ass.

The Angels are with her now……

This all happened before I was on Assistance.

If Ryan Murphy made this into a series, I'd watch.

[quote]Lawford sat with her on the sofa in the living room, trying to calm her.

This sofa? Wasn't delivered until after her death.

👀

Eunice Murray washing the bed sheats @ 2am.

[quote]Eunice Murray washing the bed sheats @ 2am.

First: "Oh dear."

Scond: Marilyn didn't have a washer and dryer.

^ Shit.

Second.

Look, the Oh dear troll @21 made a mistake just like the rest of us.

Sho' nuff do R22.

Sadly, this explains the terrible karma that caught up with Bobby Kennedy. All his good intentions could not stop it. Heartbreaking, mostly for us.

Photos at Cal-Neva have been mentioned in other books. One I read said there was a photo of her (clothed) on all fours and looking extremely drunk.

So...🤷‍♂️

Eunice Murray was probably only laundering the sheets because Marilyn shit the bed when she died.

3rd times the charm.

Didn't the autopsy report reveal she was administered a barbiturates enema which killed her.

This book goes through the last few months of Monroe's life and all of the theories. Pretty complete.

Why is the official death photo of her face down in bed? Didn't the turn her over and try to revive her?

Thanks OP. That was very interesting to read. It's still a mystery today of how she died. She would of been an easy target to kill and make look like a suicide. And the Kennedy's couldn't have the affairs coming out back then. But she was also a depressed, suicidal mess with past suicide attempts. And hooked on pills.

I guess that the Kennedy's couldn't handle her at her worst, and sure as hell didn't deserve her at her best!

All accounts are that she was happy at that time R31.

What would have happened if she had talked? I guess she sealed her fate by not keeping her affair with both Kennedy brothers to herself.

Crazy stuff, just like how Mary Jo Kopechne died. Although I think Ted wasn't in the car when it slid off the bridge on Chappaquiddick island.

Quincy Jones already told the truth about Marilyn Monroe’s death and it wasn’t by Bobby Kennedy. It was just the opposite.

Quincy Jones said it was a mob style hit. The mob wanted to get Marilyn to secretly record her rendezvous with both brothers but she refused and they knew she would talk.

Quincy said Marilyn was injected with an air bubble in her upper inner thigh which cause cardiac arrest. That’s such a super specific example from a man who has nothing fucking to lose or reason to lie about it. He spills a bunch of other industry shit that’s just so awesome too. The interview is epic. Including the part where he says Marlon Brando slept with Richard Pryor, Marvin Gaye and James Baldwin. Pryor’s wife later on confirmed the affair.

Interview is in Vulture. His daughters actually pulled an intervention to tell him to shut up. Love when he said Michael Jackson stole material from everybody. And that the Beatles were shit musicians.

Thanks OP for posting that! The death of Marilyn Monroe is the one story I can't get enough of, and this was terribly interesting.

How would Quincy Jones know anything about MM?

He knew Frank very well and Frank told him everything.

[quote]Didn't the turn her over and try to revive her?

Why bother, she'd been dead for a minimum of three to four hours by the time the police were called.

So Frank told him Marilyn was injected with air? I'm not buying this story.

Frank probably said Marilyn was a mafia hit. And when pushed further for details that air bubble came out. It's not like he walked up to quincy and said MM was killed by an air bubble injection.

But did they SEARCH THE CABINS ?????