Mercury News- Phillip Garrido did printing work for a Pittsburg recycling center for more than a decade, and he did it well. Some of the receipts and envelopes came with lovely children's designs, said Maria Christenson, owner of Christenson Recycling Center. His daughter did them, Garrido proudly told her."There was nothing weird with him at the beginning. But I noticed a year ago he just went off the deep end," she said.
That's when Phillip and Nancy Garrido — charged Friday in the 1991 abduction and sexual assault of Jaycee Dugard — came into her office, shut the door and asked for a $2,000 advance. They needed a new bathroom and had plans to start a backyard church, they told her.
"He started preaching and doing all this stuff. He was telling me about his voices. And then he said, 'You know I've been to prison, and I don't masturbate anymore.' Out of the blue," she said. "Then he started crying, and she was crying. I was looking at them — what is this about? I got freaked out."
One longtime customer, Deepal Karunaratne, also recalled Garrido plunging into preachy fervor over the past few years. Garrido sang religious country-rock songs that he let Karunaratne hear from a CD. Garrido said he recorded the music in a soundproofed backyard studio. Authorities have said Dugard and her two children fathered by Garrido lived in a hidden backyard warren of tents, sheds and outbuildings — one of them soundproofed.
A local real estate agent, Karunaratne said he often picked up his orders at the Garridos' Antioch-area house. Garrido would often hop in Karunaratne's car, Bible in hand, trying to preach to him. A few times Karunaratne went inside the house, he said.
The printing business was a family affair, he said.
"I met all of them, even the girl, Jaycee. He introduced her to me as his daughter. She's the one who handled my printing. She's the graphic designer. She did all the layout, designing and everything," he said. "Sometimes when I go there, she comes out with the work, wearing gloves, with ink all over her clothes."
Details from authorities, Garrido's customers and others who came in contact with the 58-year-old convicted rapist paint a picture of a religious fanatic who grew more and more strange, and who lately was intent to spread his confounding beliefs widely, with the two shy blond girls in tow.
His wayward aspirations drew the suspicion of UC Berkeley police last week, leading to the couple's arrest. Garrido's readiness to cast himself in the light may have done what law enforcement never did: flush him out and reveal a horrifying 18-year-old mystery.
To some, he announced plans to give up the printing business and preach full time. Last year, he launched a company, God's Desire. His blog, called "Voices Revealed," describes a fascination with mind control and the ability to hear the voices in people's heads. "The Creator has given me the ability to speak in the tongue of angels in order to provide a wake-up call that will in time include the salvation of the entire world," he wrote.
On Monday, the same day he first sought an event permit at UC Berkeley, he delivered documents to the FBI in San Francisco. FBI spokesman Joseph Schadler described the documents as similar to the writings found on Garrido's blog. The next day, he returned with the two girls to campus in a meeting that prompted two UC officers to run a background check and alert his parole officer.
Then, Wednesday, Garrido brought his wife, the girls and Dugard — who went by "Allissa" — into a Concord parole office, where questions from police revealed Dugard's identity and led to the couple's arrest. The next day, in an interview from jail, he told a Sacramento TV station, "If you take this a step at a time, you're going to fall over backwards, and in the end, you're going to find the most powerful, heartwarming story."
Garrido told Christenson, too, that she would "fall backwards" when his plans took shape.
"He said, 'I'm going to Berkeley. This is really great.' They were going to listen to what he had to say about God and all these things," she said. "He was talking about the Berkeley thing since last year but went into high gear about three months ago."
Jim Molino, owner of JM Enterprise, a Pittsburg wrecking yard, said Garrido would give customers bottles of cold water and fuel religious discussions. "He has a vast knowledge of the Bible. He knows the book backwards and forwards," Molino said.
Garrido asked to do a sermon at the wrecking yard. "I told him, 'Hell no,'" Molino said.
A while back, Molino said he sold Garrido a reddish Volkswagen. Garrido would drive the wagon to People's Park in Berkeley, said homeless men who camp there.
"He seemed kind of hyper. He would rush around, passing out bottles of water and sometimes homemade sandwiches. He was always in a hurry," said one of the older, bearded campers, who identified himself only as "The Hate Man."
"He'd have the kids every now and then tagging along behind."
One of the men, William Clark, described a strange display on the dashboard of Garrido's car. He said religious symbols — including a pentagram — were glued onto the dashboard, along with an array of nude baby dolls. Law enforcement officials did not return calls to confirm the display.
Occasionally, Garrido would set up speakers on the park's stage, the men said. "But he never seemed to say anything or play music with them," said one man, who declined to give his name. "Nothing happened. No sound. I guess he wasn't quite wired in, either."
Garrido asked several people, including customers, to sign testimonials confirming they had witnessed his ability to "control sound with my mind" and a device he developed "for others to witness this phenomena." About three years ago, he asked Karunaratne to sign one, after insisting the real estate agent put on earphones attached to a box.
"I did sign it, but I did it just to get away from it. I did not have any intention of endorsing his crazy stuff," said Karunaratne, who said he saw no signs of the kind of trouble revealed in the past week.
"I told my wife, 'This guy seems to be like he's going crazy. He's getting into religious extremism,'" he said. "I was not worried about that because I've seen people like that. I met his family, and they didn't have any problem with it."
Christenson, however, said she felt guilty she didn't draw out Garrido. Once, she said, she and her daughter knocked on the front door to pick up some printing, heard nothing, then peered around back.
"My daughter stood on the fence and said, 'There's a clunker in the backyard.' He came out and said, 'You guys wait in the car. I have a really vicious dog and my mother's really sick,'" she said. "Now we're saying, 'My gosh, we should have snooped.'
"It's really freaky when I see him on TV. I think he wanted to get caught. I think he just didn't know what to do anymore."
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