Cobra Killer: Gay Porn, Murder, and the Manhunt to Bring the Killers to Justice by
Peter A. Conway
My rating:
4 of 5 stars
This is the story of two men, both desperate for money and fame, and willing to do almost anything to get what they want. Two young men that rely on older men for support, all the while maintaining control of the strings, able to always turn the situation to their favour.
The book details how the first man, Brent Corrigan, aka Sean Lockheart, became a porn star at age 17, providing a fake ID. According to Lockheart the man who owned the company, Brian Kocis, was complicit in this cover up, but then Lockheart contradicts himself by saying Kocis kept hounding him for a physical copy of the ID, something he wouldn’t do if he knew for a fact it didn’t exist.
Lockheart had a fake ID made, provided it to Kocis, and things went along for a while with Lockheart signing a lucrative modeling contract after he had turned 18.
During this period, Lockheart’s life was in turmoil with his family and his relationships, and he would confide in Kocis, saying he needed a phone, which Kocis provided and paid for, saying he had no money and was unhappy, so Kocis gave him a place to stay and a job. Lockheart seems to compulsively perceive himself as a victim and of being used, and dismisses these gestures as self interest on the part of Kocis.
An argument between the two men led to Corrigan telling Kocis he was underage when the movies were shot, led Corrigan to ask that the movies be destroyed, and led Corrigan to go to the FBI on two separate occasions in an attempt to organize a raid on Kocis’ home and close his business. This is clearly one guy you don’t want to piss off.
Corrigan advised he was breaking his existing modelling contract and starting his own company, despite already having taken possession of the $20,000 new car. He returned to his home in California and he and his business partner/manager Grant Roy contacted other companies for work, specifically looking for ones which would provide a percentage of sales as part of the deal, unheard of in the industry.
One such company they contacted was BoyBatter and specifically it’s star, Harlow Cuadra.
The couple, Lockheart and Roy, met Cuadra and his manager/partner in Las Vegas and explained their situation, they were looking for more money, they were looking for a backend deal, they couldn’t actually film as Lockheart was still in a contract he had not honoured. Murdering Kocis was discussed at this meeting, though the sides differ on who said what. Two weeks later Kocis was dead.
This is where the second man comes into the picture, Harlow Cuadra. Also in a relationship with a much older man, he too was seemingly controlled, although he was most definitely the brains of the operation.
It’s unclear what exactly was said during the meeting in Vegas, both sides acknowledge they talked about murdering Kocis. Both sides acknowledge that after Kocis was murdered by Cuarda or his partner or both, an email was sent to Lockheart and Roy saying that they had recorded the Vegas conversation and if they went to the police that Cuardra would give them the damning evidence.
When Cuarda was arrested, his first question to police was “Are Lockheart and Roy here too?”
It will never be known definitively what happened at that Vegas meeting. Lockheart and Roy agreed to wear a wire to entrap Cuadra and testify against him in exchange for immunity. Lockheart makes much of the fact that this was voluntary and he put his life on the line for justice, both these statements are debateable. It was voluntary in exchange for immunity, and they were followed by police the entire time. As Kocis’ sister said “If he wasn’t involved at all, he should have warned Bryan of Harlow and Joe after the famous Las Vegas dinner.”
What I really felt was lost in all this was that a man was killed, and by all accounts an innocent man. It seems neither Lockheart nor Cuadra are able to get past their egos and selfish desires long enough to really let this sink in, which is sad and the murder itself senseless.
One thing I will say is I’m impressed the police put so much work into the case. A gay porn magnate is killed in a conservative town and they actually do their job, no endless insinuations of his lifestyle or that he deserved it, good for them.
As far as the book itself, we have to weigh it against the greatest crime book ever written, In Cold Blood, so if we assume that is the five star standard than this is a four. A very different approach than Blood though as Capote went directly into the field, whereas I don’t think, judging by the book itself, the authors ever left their homes. All the information provided is public knowledge.
I am glad it was all put together in a readable format, I had heard lots about the case and was eager to know all the facts. The book is well paced and researched and for the most part impartial. One note on that though, after Lockheart’s testimony the authors seemingly exonerate him (“If anyone had any remaining down about any possible involvement by the two in the murder, their detailed testimony knocked that out”). Whereas after Cuadra’s testimony it’s stated that his comments could never be proven (“No one has ever been able to verify or confirm any of the elements of Cuadra’s version of events”). Well, both their comments could never be proven for the most part. It’s a momentary slip though and impartiality does return.
One other thing, due to the nature of the book, different people appear in different lights depending on the source of the material. For example at the start of the book, which is mostly facts, and at the end of the book, where opinions are given by Cuadra and Kocis’ sister, Lockheart comes off as more manipulative and self-serving (“If his bravado and self-centred assessment passed over the fact that it was Kocis who ultimately suffered most, he didn’t seem to care.”) than he does in the middle of the book which is presented mostly from his own testimony. These differences are not really highlighted and it is up to the reader to decipher which one is the true.
View all my reviews
The Last of the Wine by Mary Renault
‘Wanted, wanted: Dolores Haze./ Hair: brown. Lips: scarlet./ Age: five thousand three hundred days./ Profession: none, or “starlet”.’ That sinister little jingle has been going round in my head ever since I first read Lolita in the early 80s. Back then I thought it was exciting and taboo-smashingly controversial – which it is – but over the years I’ve found it harder to go along with Humbert Humbert’s horribly seductive persuasions. And that, of course, is exactly what Nabokov was up to, pinpointing what was to become one of the biggest anxieties of our times, paedophilia. Lolita is without doubt one of the greatest masterpieces of C20th literature, and the only reason it’s not higher in this list is because I find it really gruelling to read these days, even though it does all the things I want novels to do. It’s funny, it’s got engaging, pacy narrative and an unmistakeable voice, that of HH himself – likeable, plausible, pitiful. Just typing about him makes me feel uneasy. I love all the Nabokov I’ve subsequently read, particularly the magnficient Despair, but Lolita towers over the lot of them. Footnote: I never knew until now that there had been an ‘acclaimed but failed’ musical Lolita, My Love by no less a team than Alan Jay Lerner and John Barry. What were they thinking?
OK, I’m cheating here, because I’ve just finished reading this and it’s been washed into the Top 100 on a tidal wave of enthusiasm. London Belongs to Me is exactly the sort of novel that I dream about discovering, and so rarely do. It’s a big busy book about the residents of a south London boarding house during the Second World War, and it’s written in an elegant, conversational tone that disguises the superb craftsmanship of the narrative. Collins (a hugely successful author who went on to become one of the most important post-War TV executives) handles his large, diverse cast with a juggler’s skill, and manages to juxtapose sentiment, comedy and hard-boiled action without ever striking a false note. There’s a camp old retired actress living upstairs, a phony Spiritualist medium in the basement and all human life in between. They eat disgusting food, smoke a lot of fags and trundle around streets that we are still familiar with. The fact that it’s set in Kennington, just down the road from my house, makes it a special joy. Oddly, the introduction to the Penguin reissue goes to great lengths to tell us that London Belongs to Me is a second-rate novel, ‘just a soap opera’ etc, which is absolute bollocks. I can’t recommend it highly enough.
The Hard Return by Marcus McCann
Going Down in La-La Land by Andy Zeffer
Becoming a Man: Half a Life Story by Paul Monette
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