The chilling story of the ‘Scorecard Killer’: How a quiet California boy became a serial murderer

Randy Kraft looked like any other suburban kid — smart, polite, and well-dressed. But over a decade, he killed at least 16 young men, with detectives suspecting more than 50 victims. He kept a haunting list of them all.

Born on March 19, 1945, in Long Beach, California, Randy Steven Kraft was the only son in a working-class family. His parents had moved from Wyoming hoping to build a better life.

To neighbors, Kraft seemed like a normal child — polite, neat, and highly intelligent. His room was always perfectly organized. Teachers praised him. But even as a boy, he showed a deep need for control.

He grew up in Westminster, Orange County, where he thrived in the conservative 1950s culture. He joined student government, supported the military, and campaigned for Republican Barry Goldwater. Everything pointed toward a successful, respectable future.

But something changed in college.

A secret life begins

While studying economics at Claremont Men’s College, Kraft’s beliefs started to shift. By 1969, he came out as gay — a shock to his family and friends. His revelation cost him his place in the Air Force Reserve, which quietly discharged him.

After that, Kraft drifted. He worked as a bartender, waiter, and computer programmer. Outwardly, he seemed charming and intelligent. But friends noticed strange behavior. He began drinking heavily and using drugs. He disappeared for days at a time.

At night, he prowled Southern California’s coastal towns, blending into the growing gay nightlife — and hunting.

The first known victim

In March 1970, 13-year-old Joseph Fancher was found disoriented and barefoot in a Long Beach bar. Police learned he had been drugged and assaulted by an older man. When they searched the man’s apartment, they found the boy’s shoes and a cabinet full of pills — but the search was illegal. The evidence was thrown out.

The suspect, Randy Kraft, walked free.

This marked the start of a deadly pattern.

Bodies by the highway

From 1971 to 1983, young men across California began to vanish — hitchhikers, Marines, and college students. Their bodies were later found dumped along highways, ravines, and fields. Most had been drugged, tortured, and strangled.

Detectives saw the connections, but the killer remained a mystery. All the while, Kraft lived a double life — working as a computer programmer by day, hunting victims by night.

Then, in May 1983, a routine traffic stop changed everything.

Caught with a body in the car

At 1:00 a.m. on the 405 Freeway, two CHP officers stopped Kraft for suspected drunk driving. In the passenger seat was a dead Marine — Terry Gambrel — with a belt tied around his neck.

Inside Kraft’s car, police found a briefcase with drugs, a notebook, and photographs. At his home, they discovered personal items from victims and the most chilling evidence of all: a handwritten list.

The list had over 60 short, cryptic phrases like “Stable,” “Iowa,” and “Marine Drum.” Detectives soon realized it was a “scorecard” — a record of Kraft’s victims.

Each entry pointed to a murder.

The trial of Randy Kraft

In 1989, Kraft was convicted of 16 murders and sentenced to death. He never confessed. During the trial, he told the court, “I have not murdered anyone.”

The jury disagreed. Kraft showed no emotion as the verdict was read.

Relatives of the victims cried, cheered, and shouted. One father yelled, “Burn in hell, Kraft. Burn in hell!”

Kraft’s stunned family went into hiding. “They love Randy,” said his lawyer, “but this has devastated them.”

A quiet evil

Over the years, investigators have continued to link Kraft to more killings. But he has never admitted to any of them.

In 2012, a retired detective met Kraft at San Quentin. “There was nothing memorable about him,” the officer said. “He looked like your neighbor. Maybe that’s what made him so terrifying.”

To this day, Kraft remains on death row in California, still denying all charges. Detectives believe many victims will never be identified.

Randy Kraft was not a monster with horns. He was a clean-cut kid who looked like everyone else — and maybe that’s the most haunting part of all.

Kraft’s case remains one of the darkest chapters in California’s history of serial crimes. His ‘scorecard’ continues to puzzle investigators, and his cold denial leaves families still searching for justice.