“It was the most terrifying experience I have ever had,” he says.

“John’s drug bust,” Ringo says, “was a reminder that a cop was lying in wait if anyone had a party.”

Though charges against Yoko are dropped, on November 4, in the aftermath of the stressful arrest, she’s admitted to Queen Charlotte’s Hospital, where she suffers a miscarriage on November 21. John sleeps on the floor of Yoko’s room rather than leave her side.

They name the unborn boy John Ono Lennon II and bury him in an undisclosed location.

Five years later, Detective Sergeant Norman Pilcher is the one who’s on trial—for perjury in another drug case. At London’s central criminal court, Old Bailey, the judge who will sentence Pilcher to four years in prison tells him, “You poisoned the wells of criminal justice and set about it deliberately.”

—

December 6, 1980

Mark wants to be as close to Lennon as possible. To achieve that aim, he needs to find much nicer accommodations—with a vantage point that puts him eyeball-to-eyeball with the man who believes he’s bigger and better than Jesus.

He leaves the Y with his suitcase and travels south around ten blocks to the Sheraton Centre, at 811 Seventh Avenue, on the corner of West 53rd Street.

At the reception desk, he asks for a room with a view of the westernmost edge of Central Park. The expense, $82 per night, is well worth it. Upstairs, he goes to the window of room 2730 and looks north past the bare branches that divide the park from Central Park West.

The hotel is visible from Lennon’s living room, on the seventh floor of the Dakota. And now Mark can look right back at his target.

Satisfied, he reaches for his Walkman and a bunch of cassettes. He grabs his camera and his copy of Double Fantasy and heads outside to take a short subway ride back to the Dakota.

Before leaving Hawaii, he’d taped fourteen hours of Beatles songs. For inspiration, he listened to them nonstop on the long flight to New York.

Outside, “Strawberry Fields Forever” begins to play. The song is one of his favorites. He especially enjoys the parts where he recorded himself screaming and chanting “John Lennon must die!” and “John Lennon is a phony.”

Mark sees a familiar face at the 72nd Street subway station. He draws closer.

It’s James Taylor.

Mark follows the famous singer up a flight of steps. Then he corners Taylor against the wall of the station.

“I’m a musician just like you,” Mark says. He begins to sweat, and his pupils are dilated. “I’m working on a project with John Lennon. I have something that I need to get to him. You know him, right?”

Taylor seems unnerved. He tries to peel himself off the subway wall.

“I’ve gotta go, man,” the singer says softly.