In 1973, author and activist Oscar Zeta Acosta told his son he was getting on a boat, and would see him soon. But Acosta was never seen again. Theories range from a drug deal gone wrong, to a faked death, to an FBI assassination. Keep up with us on Instagram @theconspiracypod! Have a story to share? Email us at [email protected] Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices
Chapter 1: What is the conspiracy theory surrounding Oscar Zeta Acosta's disappearance?
This episode contains discussions of drug use, mental health conditions, domestic violence, miscarriage, and murder. Consider this when deciding how and when you'll listen. You've probably heard the conspiracy theory that Martin Luther King Jr. was assassinated by the FBI. But you might not have heard the theory that he wasn't the only 1960s-era civil rights activist the FBI targeted.
Enter Oscar Zeta Acosta, an author, activist, and lawyer who gave voice to the Chicano movement. If you haven't heard his name, that's because he's a man who disappeared. Twice. Once off the coast of Mazatlan, Mexico in 1974. Then again, in the shadow of the incredibly popular book and movie character he inspired. Today, we're asking the question, who made him disappear?
Welcome to Conspiracy Theories, a Spotify podcast. I'm Carter Roy. New episodes come out every Wednesday. You can listen to the audio everywhere and watch the video only on Spotify. And be sure to check us out on Instagram at TheConspiracyPod. Today, we're looking into the mysterious disappearance of Oscar Zeta Acosta. There are a wide range of theories.
He died in a boating accident or drug deal gone wrong. He faked his own death or he was assassinated for his revolutionary activity. Stay with us.
Hello and welcome to the Kryptonaut Podcast. My name is Mark Storrs and hanging out with me as always is Chris Conicelli, Rob Morphy.
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Chapter 2: Who was Oscar Zeta Acosta and why is his identity complex?
He grew up in Riverbank, California. A high achiever, he became his high school class president, joined the marching band, and got so good at the clarinet, the University of Southern California offered him a music scholarship. But Zeta faced challenges too, particularly around his identity. Regardless of his accomplishments, he had this constant feeling of being an outsider.
Not Mexican, like his parents, but not white, like his classmates. He didn't know where he fit in. As a young adult, Zeta boomeranged between jobs and lifestyles, trying to find out where he belonged. He declined the USC scholarship and joined the Air Force. He converted from Catholicism to Protestantism and became an Air Force minister. But soon enough, Zeta realized none of this felt right.
He quit preaching, got an honorable discharge, and enrolled in the creative writing program at Modesto Junior College. Biographers tend to gloss over this time in Zeta's life, but it's important. Beginning in his early 20s, writing was a huge part of who he was. It's one identity he kept coming back to, even as he picked up new ones, like husband and father-to-be.
By the late 1950s, Zeta was married to a woman named Betty Daves with a baby on the way. He shuffled through odd jobs to support his family. Betty said he even worked as a chemist for a while, apparently hired on charisma alone. But that job didn't last, and neither did the marriage. In 1959, Zeta walked out on his wife and newborn son, Marco. He just disappeared. But Betty wasn't surprised.
Zeta had already done this a few times. He always came back. She even convinced him to see a psychiatrist about it, but therapy didn't seem to help. Zeta just couldn't sit still. And Betty couldn't tolerate his behavior with a baby in the picture, so by 1962, they divorced. Zeta left Modesto again, this time for Oakland, and studied law in night school.
Four years later, he landed his first lawyer job at the East Oakland Legal Aid Society. According to his autobiography, he helped poor women win restraining orders and child support. According to his son Marco, he represented tenants' rights. Either way, it was meaningful work. But like everything else for Zeta, it got old fast.
In 1967, just one year into his law career, he quit his job to road trip around the American Southwest and Mexico. Once again, he threw caution to the wind in search of his true self. At certain points he traveled with his son Marco, now around 8 years old. At others he used recreational drugs, which wasn't new.
Zeta started experimenting with drugs like LSD and amphetamines when he was a teenager. Still, he got into trouble. At one point he picked a fight with a hotel receptionist and got thrown into a Mexican jail. It's not clear if drugs were involved. But during his tour of the Southwest, he finally found what he'd been looking for, his identity, his people, the Chicanos.
Chicano was a new term in the 1960s, referring to those of Mexican and indigenous descent in the American Southwest. For Zeta and others who embrace the identity, it's more specific than Latino and more personal than Mexican-American. It honors a feeling Zeta had since he was a child. Not quite Mexican and not quite American. In between. Chicano. It's also a political term.
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Chapter 3: How did Oscar Zeta Acosta become involved in the Chicano civil rights movement?
The state rented out the Biltmore Hotel downtown, known for hosting the Oscars and JFK. Governor Ronald Reagan came all the way from Sacramento. But during the conference, in fact, as Reagan spoke, protesters, including some of the East Side 13, set the hotel on fire. Though Reagan was there to help, they didn't like him. They didn't like the government, and they didn't want to be lectured.
In their eyes, this conference was a band-aid, not a solution. But setting a building on fire wasn't a solution either. Suddenly, three of Zeta's clients were facing multiple charges, including arson. Their possible sentences rose from 40 years to life. Zeta didn't back down. He doubled down, signing on as a lead attorney in the second case.
They called it the Biltmore Six, and Zeta was determined to keep them out of jail. Now, the Biltmore Six clearly committed arson, damaged a historic building, and endangered hundreds of lives. We won't argue that they weren't criminals. Neither did Zeta. Like with the Eastside 13 case, he focused on getting the charges thrown out.
He argued the crimes didn't matter if the defendants couldn't get a fair trial. And maybe a life sentence is too harsh for a crime where no one was actually hurt. Maybe the real problem was the system. According to scholar Mary Romero, Zeta spent months building his case. He got help from the ACLU, the National Lawyers Guild, and numerous Chicano law students.
He solicited donations from local Chicano leaders to help pay for the defense. Between both trials, he called 109 witnesses. He also adopted a new persona. Leaning into the Chicano firebrand image, loud, arrogant, and brash. Twice, he screamed at the judges and was cited for contempt of court.
Around this time, Zeta married the paralegal he'd been romancing, Socorro Aguiniga, while dressed like a revolutionary. Then he emblazoned an Aztec war god on his business cards. As he wrote in The Revolt of the Cockroach People, this upset the judges.
According to documentarian Philip Rodriguez, Zeta once walked into court in a guayabera, which you'll see on screen if you're watching the video on Spotify. It's a style of shirt popular among Chicanos. Another time, he showed up barefoot. This also upset the judges. Eventually, things got so heated, Zeta set a judge's front lawn on fire. This really upset the judges.
It also wasn't the brightest idea to set a lawn on fire. during his client's arson trial. But for Zeta, it really wasn't about this specific case. It was so much bigger than that. And the courtroom wasn't the only way to change the system. In 1970, 35-year-old Zeta joined the race for sheriff of Los Angeles. He ran with the Raza Unida Party, whose platform centered on Chicano rights.
If every Chicano rallied behind him, he had a fighting chance. At this point, Zeta probably saw himself at the precipice of a long and public career. In actuality, this was his peak. Because that summer, everything fell apart. In June, police arrested Zeta for amphetamine possession. Now, some people say the arrest was a conspiracy to ruin Zeta's chances of becoming sheriff.
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Chapter 4: What role did Oscar Zeta Acosta play in the East Side 13 and Biltmore Six court cases?
But like I said, it had been a rough few years. It's impossible to know where Zeta was at mentally or what other drugs he might have been using. Even if he didn't overdose on a harder drug, it's possible his drug use caused a psychiatric crisis. It's also possible they skewed his vision or made him more clumsy and he fell off the boat and drowned.
The point is, Oscar Zeta Acosta was not Dr. Gonzo. So while an overdose or a drug-related accident seems possible, it might not actually be the best explanation. Especially because both Zeta's sister and his first wife believe the wheels for his disappearance were spinning well before the Mazatlan trip. Let's go back a few years. By the early 1970s, Zeta was really paranoid.
He thought he was being followed, so much so that he hired a bodyguard. Some people blamed it on the weed, but apparently Hunter S. Thompson told Zeta he can't be paranoid enough. Thompson suggested the U.S. government could be out to get him. partly because of his 1970 L.A. County Sheriff campaign.
I mentioned earlier that Zeta ran with the Raza You Need a Party, whose platform centered on Chicano rights. But Zeta's personal platform was defunding the police. If he became sheriff, he'd tear the whole system down. On top of that, he rallied Chicanos around getting their land back and governing themselves.
He encouraged them to form their own country called Aztlan in the area that used to be Mexico but is now the southwestern United States. He decried the U.S. government as imperialist occupiers and said he was a Mexican in America, not an American of Mexican descent. He didn't just campaign for fair treatment or better education. He preached revolution.
Though Zeta got over 100,000 votes, he lost to a former FBI agent. And the FBI and LAPD put tabs on Oscar Zeta Acosta. Because it wasn't just his campaign. In his autobiography, Zeta included this anecdote. As a kid, he spat on the American flag. The other kids fought him over it, but he still thought he was right. This may or may not be true, but it certainly makes a point.
One that might have scared the FBI. This man had no respect for their authority. He was different from his fellow civil rights activists. Author Alain Stavins calls Zeta the Hispanic Mahatma Gandhi, and some might be tempted to call him the Mexican MLK, but there's a major difference between hunger strikes or sit-ins and basically everything Zeta did.
Documentarian Philip Rodriguez told NBC, "...civil rights leaders are portrayed as more patient, understanding, and drained of agency. Oscar vibrates still. You don't have to be perfect. You don't have to be a saint. Oscar was no saint. Oscar was educated. He was entitled." He wasn't going to go on no hunger strike. He was no martyr. He was not engaged in the politics of pleasing.
He was not going to be anybody's mascot. He rejected those kinds of maneuvers. So it's not totally surprising that the FBI narrowed in on Zeta during COINTELPRO. Regular listeners might recall, it was an illegal operation in which agents surveilled anyone deemed politically subversive, especially civil rights leaders. Most famously, they tapped Martin Luther King Jr. 's phone.
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