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It seems every generation is cursed to its own iteration of the Black Dahlia nightmare: starry-eyed Midwestern girl steps off a bus with big hopes, but through a toxic combination of naivete and bad luck, falls victim in the worst possible way to the Hollywood dream machine. On February 16, 2003, "churchoing Michigan native" Kristi Johnson told her roommates that she was on her way to an audition; someone had approached her at Century City and promised her a role in the next James Bond movie. Her body was found 16 days later by hikers in a Hollywood Ravine, bound by shoelaces and covered with a sleeping bag. Police already had their prime suspect in custody:

Victor Paleologus, the man who is accused of luring Johnson with the promise of stardom, will stand trial for her brutal murder. [...]

And while prosecutors admit they lack direct evidence, the circumstantial evidence is powerful. Eight women with similar near-miss stories are expected to testify against Paleologus.

He allegedly used the same ploy, unsuccessfully, on at least three women in the days before he allegedly lured Johnson. They are expected to testify that he promised them film roles, and requested that they wear audition clothing similar to what Johnson wore.

Paleologus had been out of prison just a month prior to the Johnson's disappearance, newly paroled after spending three-and-a-half years behind bars on a previous rape charge. It's a deeply troubling incident, and a cautionary tale for any aspiring starlets out there: While that creepy guy lingering with a laptop at the Coffee Bean and promising you a speaking part may not necessarily be a homicidal maniac, the audition will invariably end up with a least one request to "try that line again, but this time, without the jeans." (To end on a cheerier note, however, many of those guys are successful producers who can actually come through with a role.)