Crime Library: Criminal Minds and Methods

The Mistress of Hollywood: June Cassandra Mincher

Death of a Madam

Los Angeles skyline
Los Angeles skyline

It was a hot night in Los Angeles. Around 10:30 p.m., June Cassandra Mincher descended the steps of a building the 6800 block of Sepulveda Boulevard in Van Nuys.  She wore a wild print dress, tan jacket, curly black wig, and very high heels.  Her good friend, Christian Pierce, accompanied her. He adored her, and as a result, he followed her at 10:30 that night into the danger zone. He had no idea that someone was watching for them.

They had just left the apartment of a friend, where June, 29, was staying.  She was a well-known figure around there, having undergone over $20,000 worth of cosmetic surgery to sculpt her face, supplement her reported 66-inch bosom, and reshape her lower torso.  Some say she was a prostitute, others elevate her to a madam, but in any event, she advertised in underground porn magazines for her lucrative sex-by-phone services.  Known for flamboyance, she drove a lavender Rolls Royce, wore elaborate wigs under which she often stuffed thousands of dollars, and referred to herself in print as a "sexy Black goddess."  Many erroneously thought she was not a woman at all but a transvestite, in part because many of her associates were.  As long as she got customers, she didn't care what anyone thought.

Lavender Rolls Royce, similar
Lavender Rolls Royce, similar

To some extent, June used phone sex to perpetuate lies — or rather, to enhance fantasies.  At five-foot-seven and 245 pounds, she wasn't exactly a Playboy centerfold type, but since she supported herself on male sexual desires she had learned to manipulate by voice alone until her clients were driven to call...and call again.  But some developed an obsession, and one of them decided he needed more than just a breathy voice.

Greg Antonelli, a twenty-one year-old bodybuilder from a wealthy Beverly Hills family, used every means available to learn June's address, although she'd persistently refused to give it.  One night, hoping to be welcomed, he showed up at her door.  When she saw who it was, she played coy and refused to let him in, so he grew enraged and broke down the door.  To his stunned surprise, he found not the sexy goddess with luxurious curls that he'd expected from photos but an obese fraud with close-cropped hair.  In disgust, he called her several vile names and walked away.

Several months thereafter, on May 3, 1984, June and Christian passed a man standing outside a dark car, with a driver inside.  The man mumbled something and June spun around to run.  She'd seen this man before. 

Christian yelled at him, "What do you want?" and a shot cracked through the night air.  Christian grabbed his stomach, falling backwards.  More shots caught June in the back of her head and she collapsed to the street, instantly dead, with blood running onto her clothing and the sidewalk.  Someone inside the car yelled for the shooter to hurry, but he wanted to empty his gun first.  Then he kicked both victims hard before he got back into the car; it sped away from the scene, but not before people had seen it.

June's friend heard the shots and rushed out, saw the blood-soaked forms, and called the police.  She knew June had been targeted before for rough treatment, possibly with good reason, but had never believed it would result in murder.

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