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In the apartment at 625 Morse Street where Patty and Yoshimura were captured, the FBI discovered a single greenback—denomination undisclosed—that was stolen from the bank in Carmichael. It was a "bait bill"—a piece of currency, whose serial number has been previously recorded, that bank tellers often surrender to stickup men in the hope that the loot may be traced.
Patty has been loosely linked to the Carmichael bank job in yet another way. On the license plate of the repainted car, authorities found the fingerprints of Steven Soliah, 27, the "Charlie Adams" with whom she moved into her San Francisco apartment. Also on the license plate were the fingerprints of one of Soliah's sisters, Kathleen, and of a friend, James Kilgore. Kathleen Soliah is now being sought for general questioning. Authorities suspect that Kilgore was the man who hired a San Francisco mover on Sept. 21 to carry a wicker basket to a vacant lot 1½ blocks from the city's Ingleside police station. The mover became wary, looked into the basket and discovered a 14-in. pipe bomb wired to a clock. A similar bomb was found in the Harrises' apartment, leading the FBI to wonder whether they had been involved in at least two pipe bombings in the area hi recent weeks.
Soliah was arrested soon after Patty was caught and is now being held at the same jail on charges of harboring fugitives. Speaking of Soliah, Patty told Trish Tobin in the taped conversation last week: "I lived with him." And she added, "I finally got to see him up in the jail. They let me kiss him."
Patty had little else to report as the days dragged on. Like the other inmates, she was awakened at 6 a.m., dressed in drab prison garb and then had breakfast, which usually consisted of juice, eggs, sausage and coffee. Patty's 9-ft. by 7-ft. cell adjoined a similar one occupied by Emily Harris; the two women talked and watched a black-and-white TV set in the hallway. They traded reading material, including The Golden Notebook, a complex novel by Doris Lessing about self-definition. Sheriff John D. McDonald Jr. said that the two were model prisoners. "They do what they're told, and they've put no demands on us."
The monotony was broken for Patty by regular visits from her lawyers and her parents. Catherine Hearst told an old friend in Atlanta, her home town, that her daughter "absolutely" needed psychiatric help, but that she was "not yet enough of a realist to be able to accept treatment. She is in and out of reality—and so nervous and pale. She's been through so much and she doesn't seem to be herself, of course."
Patty's favorite cousin, William Randolph Hearst III, said that "I think she has probably undergone some sort of political change, but I don't think that being a radical feminist and being a responsible citizen are automatically irreconcilable."
The Hearsts were shaken by the release of the tape hi which Patty said she did not want to live on bail as a "prisoner" in her family's home. On the day the passage was made public, they cut their usual visit with their daughter from 30 minutes to 15. When newsmen asked for their comments on the tape, Mrs. Hearst lost her normal composure and called them a "bunch of ghouls."