The quiet woods of Calaveras County hold secrets that still make veteran detectives shudder. Most people think they know the story of Charles Ng and Leonard Lake. They think it's just another gruesome entry in the true crime encyclopedia. It isn't. It’s a case that redefined the limits of human depravity and left a trail of DNA evidence that scientists are literally still sorting through today, forty years later.
If you grew up in Northern California in the eighties, the name Wilseyville carries a certain weight. It’s the site of a bunker where "Operation Miranda" took place. That was Lake’s name for his plan to enslave women, a twisted fantasy sparked by a John Fowles novel. Honestly, the reality was much worse than any fiction.
The Partnership That No One Saw Coming
Leonard Lake was a survivalist with a military background and a bunker filled with canned goods and weapons. He was older, calculated, and deeply misogynistic. Then there was Charles Ng. Ng was a former Marine who had been dishonorably discharged after stealing heavy weaponry from a military base. When these two met, something clicked in the worst way possible.
They weren't just killing. They were hunting families.
Take the Dubs family. In July 1984, Harvey and Deborah Dubs, along with their infant son Sean, vanished from San Francisco. Two men had knocked on their door. That was it. No struggle, no witness—just an empty apartment and a missing family. Later, investigators would find the Dubs' video equipment at Lake’s cabin. They found something else, too. They found a video of Deborah being tormented while Ng and Lake laughed behind the camera. It’s the kind of detail that makes you want to look away, but it’s the core of why this case remains so chilling.
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The Shoplifting Incident That Ended It All
You’d expect a duo this prolific to go down in a shootout. Nope. It was a $75 vice.
On June 2, 1985, an off-duty officer spotted Ng shoplifting a vise from South City Lumber in South San Francisco. Ng bolted. He was fast and disappeared into the neighborhood. Lake, however, was still at the car—a 1980 Honda Prelude that didn't belong to him.
When the police started asking questions, Lake realized the game was up. He asked for a glass of water, and while the officers were distracted, he swallowed a cyanide pill he had sewn into the lapel of his jacket. He died four days later without ever uttering a confession.
- The Car: Belonged to Paul Cosner, who had been missing for months.
- The Gun: Registered to Scott Stapley, another missing person.
- The Identity: Lake was carrying a license for Robin Scott Stapley.
Basically, the police pulled one thread and the entire horrific tapestry unraveled.
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Inside the Wilseyville Bunker
When investigators finally reached the property on Blue Mountain Road, they found a literal "treasure map" drawn by the killers. It led to buried buckets. Inside weren't coins or jewels, but the IDs of their victims and Lake’s meticulous, rambling diaries.
The site was a nightmare. There were charred bone fragments everywhere. Initial estimates suggested 11 victims, but as the years go on, that number keeps shifting. Just recently, in 2025, modern DNA technology identified the remains of Reginald "Reggie" Frisby and Brenda O'Connor. For decades, these people were just "unidentified remains" sitting in a crypt in San Andreas.
Think about that. For forty years, families waited. The scale of the forensic work is staggering. We are talking about over 1,000 bone fragments—many of them burned and crushed—recovered from the property.
Why the Charles Ng and Leonard Lake Case Still Matters
Charles Ng didn't just go to jail. He led the state of California on a legal odyssey that cost over $10 million. He fled to Canada, shot a security guard there, and fought extradition for six years. He used every loophole in the book. He tried to fire his lawyers. He tried to represent himself. He drew cartoons in court to mock the proceedings.
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He was finally convicted in 1999, but he's still on death row today.
What most people get wrong is thinking this is "solved." It’s "resolved" in a legal sense, sure. But the Calaveras Cold Case Task Force is still active. They are still matching DNA. They are still trying to figure out who else might have been buried on that hill.
There’s a nuance here that often gets lost in the sensationalism. Lake was the architect, the guy with the "plan." Ng was the enforcer, the one who seemingly enjoyed the physical cruelty. Together, they created a vacuum of logic where infants and parents were discarded like trash.
Moving Forward: What You Can Do
If you follow true crime, don't just consume the horror. Use this case as a reminder of the importance of Victim Advocacy and Cold Case funding. Cases like this only get closure because of advances in Investigative Genetic Genealogy (IGG).
- Support DNA Databases: Consider how public genealogy databases help solve cold cases.
- Advocate for Forensic Funding: Many counties have "backlogs" of remains that could be identified if the money was there.
- Stay Informed on Paroles: Keep an eye on legislative changes regarding capital cases and long-term incarcerations for high-profile offenders.
The Wilseyville story isn't just a 1980s horror movie. It's a living forensic puzzle that scientists are still solving, one bone fragment at a time.