Ryan Becker's Blog

The following is the first 4 chapters of my book “Mary Flora Bell The Horrific True Story Behind an Innocent Girl Serial Killer”

 

Quick note from the Author

Evil kids. One of the most terrifying things any writer can possibly conjure up. The twins from The Shining, Samara from The Ring, hell, even young Michael Myers, before he gets all serial kill-ery is one creepy-ass kid. But that’s just fiction, right?

What happens when the lines of fiction and reality blur, causing kids to cross them? It wasn’t that long ago we heard about two young girls trying to sacrifice a third girl to the fictional character known as Slender Man. If they are telling the truth, then maybe, just maybe, these girls confused fictional evil acts and the reality of committing evil deeds.

What about kids who make a conscious choice to commit violent acts, including mutilation and murder?

 

Introduction 

Scary stories and things that go bump in the night have been used to keep mischievous children from misbehaving. Fairytales such as “Little Red Riding Hood,” is actually a cautionary tale about child predators. Imagine then, if you will, hearing your own name used in that context.

That very thing happened to the woman known to the masses as Mary Flora Bell. As a child, she was convicted of murder. As an adult, she learned parents warned their children if they did not behave, Mary Bell would get them.

The story of Mary’s life, not only her public life, is a cautionary tale and a call to action. We are obligated to look out and look after our fellow members of the human race, especially the children, often unable to help themselves or just too scared to ask for help.

Vigilance and action might have saved the lives of Mary’s victims by ending the abuse she was experiencing before she reached the breaking point. When the news flashes stories about a child committing murder, the media rushes to find out who is to blame, but so often, the answer is, “We all are.”

The story that follows is a real story of violence and murder committed by a real kid, who knew exactly what she was doing when she violated other children. She wanted to inflict pain. She wanted to kill. And that is exactly what Mary Bell did, fifty years ago, in 1968.

So if you will, please sit back and make yourself comfortable, as we delve into the case of Mary Flora Bell: Child killer.

 

Meeting Mary

Most Americans are familiar with the legend of the Bell witch, a tale that has spawned numerous books and movies. It centers around the haunting, and alleged murder, of the patriarch of a real family named Bell who resided in Tennessee in the 1800s.

Supposedly, the vengeful spirit of a former neighbor, the witch, creates turmoil and wreaks havoc on the family in such a terrifying manner that it affected them the rest of their lives, and 200 years later, the story is still being told.

One hundred and fifty years after the Bell family haunting, and an ocean away, a child with the last name Bell was making headlines. Her crimes would also effect the families of her victims for the rest of their lives. Called a witch, devil spawn, and bad seed, Mary Flora Bell will forever be the epitome of evil to some who hear her story and to those who lost a family member to her evil deeds.

Whereas the Bell witch was supposed to have the ability to shapeshift, it would be the English government that aided Mary to shapeshift and become invisible. Mary would be granted anonymity, as would the daughter she had years later; a controversial ruling. Although victims’ families understood the need to protect her daughter, it was Mary’s anonymity which was at the center of the debate.

Imagine, if you will, the horrific thought that a family member had been murdered, and you are notified that the killer will soon be released, but neither you nor anyone in the public will be privy to where they will be living after their release. Now, compound that thought by adding the fact that the convicted killer will also be given a new name and identity, which authorities refuse to reveal to you. How safe would you feel? When you stepped outdoors to check the mail, would you find yourself checking over your shoulder in fear?

As happens so often, the grief and anger that the victims’ families felt did not resolve after Mary was locked away, nor did the terms of her release heal any wounds. If anything, knowing that she was going about her own daily life unnoticed and unidentified made the families of both her victims feel bitter; as though they themselves were prisoners. Mary was free to work and raise her daughter out of the glare of the media spotlight, but the families did not have this same luxury.

Mary Flora Bell—whomever and wherever she is today—will forever be known as the little girl with the angelic face who brutally killed two small boys. In 1968, it was a crime which was quite unheard of, especially in her small corner of the world; Newcastle on Tyne, England.

When the young girl was called upon to speak at her murder trial, spectators were unable to fathom how such an innocent looking child could speak about cold-blooded murder with a completely flat voice devoid of sorrow or remorse.

The passage of five decades has not made this story any less incredible. It is a tale of sadness and brutality, as well as one of redemption. Mary Bell was a child damaged by the abuse she suffered at home and damaged by the lack of love and nurturing every child needs to grow and become a well-adjusted individual. Mary had been hurt so utterly deeply, that it seems pain was the only thing she had to give others.

The objective of this book is not to excuse any of Mary’s actions. Even most small children understand right from wrong, but in Mary’s case, it is difficult at times to discern whether she understood right from wrong and simply chose to do wrong, or if she was truly incapable of understanding the difference.

By studying Mary’s psychosocial background, crimes, and the punishment she received, we can possibly gain a better insight into what went wrong, if the punishment was sufficient to meet the crimes, and if the punishment appears to have been effective.

 

Get That Thing Away from Me

“I had a compulsion to do it.” This unapologetic reasoning was given by Ed Gein, aka, the Butcher of Plainfield, when confronted with evidence of the monstrous acts he had committed in 1968. The diminutive murderer with watery eyes was described as “child-like” by several people from his hometown in Wisconsin.

The real-life inspiration for movies such as Psycho and Texas Chainsaw Massacre, was so trusted by townsfolk, he served as a babysitter to their children. Gein was convicted of some of the most heinous acts a person can commit against another. The butchering of women and corpses to make household items and a skinsuit he would wear, while living out his fantasy of being a woman himself, are stomach churning.
In the penal system, the crime fellow prisoners find reprehensible and unforgiveable are those committed against children. We have all heard the stories of child killers and pedophiles being confronted by other inmates — a prison version of justice for daring to harm a child. As far as anyone knows, Ed Gein kept his murderous activities to just grown women and never harmed a child. Ironically, in that same year of 1968, an ocean away, there were children being killed.

The town of Newcastle, upon Tyne in England, was being rocked by its own problem; a terrifying, faceless monster preying on innocent children. The killer was dubbed the “Tyneside Strangler.” A cold and calculated killer, who, told authorities, she had committed the crimes because she wanted to. Curiosity, they say, killed the cat. It also led to the killing of children.

Perhaps the most chilling part of this story, aside from the facts themselves, is the actual killer. Not only was the perpetrator a female, but this murderer of children was herself a child.

Coined a “bad seed” by the press, and psychopath” by court psychiatrists, Mary Flora Bell killed for the first time May 25, 1968; one day shy of her eleventh birthday. How could a child of eleven be judged by a jury of her peers? The short answer is; she couldn’t. Mary, and her friend, co-defendant, thirteen-year-old Norma Bell, no relation, were judged as adults, by adults.

The jury was not privy to all the facts when reaching a decision of Mary’s guilt or innocence. They wouldn’t hear the stories of mental, physical, or sexual abuse, Mary had been subjected to. Those stories would trickle out later, and while not an excuse for committing the atrocities she was found guilty of; they do give some insight as to what made her do such horrible deeds.

From early on, Mary was taught how to lie by the very person who should have been teaching her the value of honesty; her own mother, Betty Bell. It was an ominous beginning for Mary, when the nurse attempted to hand the newborn to her teenage mother, and Betty exclaimed, “Get that thing away from me!” Betty would often leave her daughter with family members while she travelled north to Glasgow, earning money by selling her body.

Betty’s family might have been bothered by some of her actions towards Mary, but they eased their conscience by telling themselves no matter how long Betty was gone, she always came back for her daughter. Mary might have had a better shot at life if Betty had never come back. Betty’s sister and brother-in-law even offered to adopt the beautiful little girl with big blue eyes.

Betty’s affection and attitude toward Mary were certainly bipolar and passive-aggressive; mostly aggressive and rarely passive, unless you count neglect. Betty also attempted to give; sell, her infant daughter to a German woman, who told Betty her and her husband had been denied a child via adoption. The woman wanted a baby, but couldn’t have one. Betty had a baby, but didn’t want her. Sensing something wasn’t right, Betty’s sister had followed her and was able to retrieve the infant. The family would later reveal that by age two, Mary had completely shut down emotionally; except when acting in anger. Mary herself would admit years later she refused to cry as a child because she viewed tears as a sign of weakness. Even standing before the court, awaiting the verdict, which would tear her away from her family and change her life forever, Mary would not cry. If anyone ever deserved to cry, surely Mary did.

Mary’s mother never allowed her to refer to the man Mary knew as her father as “dad,” instead forcing her to call Billy Bell “uncle,” so her mother could continue to receive government assistance. As far as the English government knew, and anyone she came in contact with, Mary was a bastard. One can imagine the confusion a child would experience. Although Mary doted on her father, or “uncle,” he was frequently absent from the home; a petty criminal often in jail. Adding to her already unstable life, Mary’s mother, a prostitute who specialized in dominatrix, often brought clients home and used her young daughter as a “sexual prop” in sadomasochistic situations as early as the age of four. In response to allegations of bringing her clients around Mary and her siblings, Betty replied, “at least I made sure the whips and stuff were hidden.”

Like the sadistic dominatrix she played for clients, Betty reveled in humiliating and degrading Mary. A chronic bed wetter, Mary was frequently grabbed by her hair roughly and face ground into the urine soaked sheets and mattress. Every day, Betty repeatedly chipped away any self-worth Mary might have developed. It seemed as if Betty felt this was part of her maternal duty to perform. The only worth Betty Bell seemed to see in Mary, other than selling her young body to grown men, was using her to get government aid. And even then, on numerous occasions, her mother allegedly tried to murder her daughter.

It has been suggested that Betty suffered from Munchausen by proxy; a condition in which a parent intentionally harms their child, or makes them sick in order to gain attention. On a couple occasions her mother summoned help, reporting Mary had ingested sleeping pills on her own, in an effort to commit suicide. No one ever questioned how such a young child gained access to the prescription drugs, or why she felt suicide was a solution.

Whether attempted suicide or attempted murder, the one certainty is little Mary had a miserable home life. Teachers, often the first to notice when something is amiss with children, definitely noticed something very wrong with Mary Bell. Repeated outbursts, however, were nothing compared to the day a teacher found Mary trying to choke another student on the playground. The teacher was shocked by Mary’s response to her admonishment. Mary told her teacher she didn’t understand why it was wrong to throttle a classmate. Would it hurt him? Would it kill him? Mary seemed to have no concept of just how dangerous the situation was. Mary would later tell counselors she was in a constant state of numbness, or nothingness. She longed to feel and the only way she could possibly feel something was by making others feel.

Children who knew Mary, told authorities that before the murders she was known to torment, and even kill, birds and small animals. She later, told authorities she enjoyed “hurting little things that can’t fight back.” These acts, we now know, are clear warning signs of a psychopath in the making. Many murderers and serial killers start out this way, and the violence continues to escalate until they start killing people. This was, allegedly, the course Mary’s life was taking, but in the 1960s, child psychology was still in its infancy.

Even after being found guilty of the crime of manslaughter, the question was what to do with eleven-year-old Mary Bell. She had been judged by adults, but should such a misguided child be placed in a prison system with adult criminals? Wouldn’t she possibly be victimized herself? Would Mary, as Charles Manson attested to concerning himself, learn how to be a career criminal, coming away even more bitter and hardened? The press’s assertion that she was a “bad seed,” leads to the question of “Nature vs. Nurture.”

Was Mary Flora Bell born “bad,” or were her early years of ridicule and abuse to blame for her actions? While we may never know the answer to that, what we do know is, Mary was no stranger to trouble. Schoolmates, neighborhood children, teachers, friends’ parents, all told stories of an intelligent girl, but also a child who lied compulsively and always needed to be the center of attention. Many of the lessons children must be taught, such as impulse control and handling emotions in a healthy way, were never taught to Mary. She acted and reacted without thought of any repercussions. Negative attention after all, is still attention, and when Mary attacked other children, at least she got noticed.

Even as the police were looking for a murderer, Mary was heard to boast, “I am a murderer.” Lack of having her emotional needs met at home caused Mary to crave attention, as a junkie craves the sizzle of the drug bubbling in the spoon over a flame. Ironically, no one paid much attention because they thought that’s all she wanted. Certainly, Mary lied often to get attention. Why would this be any different? But this time, she was telling the truth. Of course, once confronted with the truth, she began lying again. Mary Bell’s life was topsy turvy — up was down and wrong was right. Morality, wholesomeness, and truth had no place in Mary Bell’s childhood. Instead, perversion, sex, and other various vices were the norm.

Clues that Mary was headed for irreversible trouble were in abundance, but hindsight, be it in the 1960s or today, is always 20/20. For example, one of Mary’s schoolmates choked on the playground, or the accident of a toddler cousin Mary reported falling off a small ledge resulting in head injuries, or three girls Mary was seen taking turns strangling and threatening their lives, or attacking her best friend’s sister. In addition to the violence on other children, Mary and Norma were caught red-handed breaking into and vandalizing a nursery school. Mary easily talked her way out of the incident. However, not knowing the nursery school had installed an alarm after the first occasion, Mary and Norma were found once again on the property, where they had trashed the building; written notes found on the property, confirmed by handwriting experts, as belonging to both girls.

While Mary and Norma would point the finger of guilt at each other regarding the violence, they admitted to “joined writing,” taking turns alternating writing words in an attempt to hide their identities. They left notes signed, “Fanny and Faggot,” in which they took credit for the murders, and warned, “fuch (sic) off we murder.” Their reasoning was stated as, “good for a giggle.” Perhaps most disturbing of all was a note Norma took full credit for in which she; as Fanny stated, “I murder so THAT I may come back.”

Viewed in hindsight, these messages are in a category of creepy sector of letters from killers, such as Son of Sam and Jack the Ripper. More so because they were crafted by two seemingly adorable little girls. The authorities and school staff certainly didn’t view this as a simple childish prank, yet, they still didn’t view either girl as murder suspects. The two girls were remanded over to the custody of their respective parents, and a date for them to appear in juvenile court was set. They would never see a juvenile trial. Instead, they would be tried for murder, as adults, in criminal court.

I Wanted to See Him in His Coffin

On May 25, 1968, the body of four-year-old Martin Brown was discovered in a vacant house. At first, it was regarded as a sad and unfortunate accident. The criminal investigation division wasn’t even notified of the death; because no obvious marks or injuries were found. Two young boys, hunting for scrap wood, had entered the abandoned house and were confronted with the small corpse of Martin Brown lying under a window. Lying next to the boy’s body was an empty aspirin bottle. Police arriving on the scene speculated the child had ingested a fatal overdose and died.

Even though the boy had dried blood and saliva on his cheek that had run down to his chin, there were no signs of struggle and no marks on his body. He appeared to have just laid down and never gotten back up. This is something Mary Bell would state in class after the death.

For a class assignment, Mary drew a picture of a boy lying in exactly the same position Martin Brown was found in, along with a bottle next to him she’d simply labeled, “TABLET.” Mary’s caption for her picture stated, “There has been a boy who just laid down and Died.” Although Mary wasn’t the only child who knew of the boy’s death, she was most certainly the only student to draw a picture of it. Yet, her teacher didn’t seem to find it odd. After all, Mary had seen the body, so of course, she was affected by the incident.

The two boys who had found the body called out to some workmen nearby and soon found themselves surrounded by a crowd of children and adults. The workmen said they recognized Martin as the boy they’d shared some cookies with less than an hour before. Two of the children had managed to squeeze through a hole in the derelict structure to get a better view. When police officers arrived on the scene, they shooed the two kids, Mary and Norma, away.

Mary had brought Norma to the house to show off her handiwork, and she wasn’t done yet. Mary took it upon herself to run and find Martin’s aunt, telling the woman she knew they were searching for the child and knew where he was. She went on to tell the aunt to follow her, because she’d seen Martin’s body and he had, “blood all over.” The poor woman unwittingly followed her nephew’s murderer to the scene of the crime.

She would be tormented in the following days by both Mary and Norma, who would torture her with questions, asking if she was sad Martin was dead and if his mother missed him. Eventually, Martin’s aunt simply refused to open the door to the two girls.

A terrible accident…such a horrible thing to happen to a child. Initially, this was most people’s reaction. People from the neighborhood protested after the boy’s death, stating that such empty buildings in the area were found alluring to children, and further tragedies were imminent if they weren’t demolished.

In a photo taken at a demonstration, in which residents urged authorities to tear down the derelict houses and buildings that local children played in, two children can be seen holding up a banner, stating area residents wanted actions taken immediately to prevent future accidents. One of the children in the picture is Mary Flora Bell. Criminals, especially those involved in serial killing, often insert themselves into the investigation or find a way to be just on the fringe of the case, to satisfy their narcissistic ego.

Although no official criminal investigation began at the time of Martin Brown’s death, a doctor viewing the body did comment to officers that it would have been possible for another child to have strangled him to death without any signs of violence, since a child’s hands are so small. Furthermore, it wouldn’t take much strength or pressure to strangle such a small boy. This was noted by police officers, but not taken seriously. Not just yet. This is another example of incidents that only comes into focus and haunts those involved later — as in, too late. Too late for Martin Brown and too late for the next murder victim.

May 26, 1968, was Mary’s eleventh birthday, a day like any other day, at least as far as Mary was concerned. Norma’s father would report to the police that the eleven-year-old had attacked his younger daughter and he’d had to physically remove her from the premises. This pattern of violence was not anything surprising to anyone who knew Mary. Mary’s attacks on other children and her braggadocio were so commonplace that even when she pointed to the house where Martin Brown’s body was found and told neighborhood children that’s where she’d killed someone, she was laughed at.

Mary Flora Bell was just attempting to steal the spotlight once again. At least that seemed to be the general consensus, until a few days after Martin’s body was discovered, when Mary’s callousness could no longer be ignored. If she could no longer torment the young boy, she’d simply continue tormenting the survivors.

Martin Brown’s mother was inside her home when a knock came at the door. Upon answering it, she found Mary Bell standing there with a sickly, creepy grin on her face. Mary asked Mrs. Brown if she could see Martin. Thinking perhaps the girl was somehow unaware of the tragedy which took her son’s life, she told Mary, “No, pet, Martin’s dead.” To which Mary replied, with her creepy smile still playing on her small mouth, “Oh, I know he’s dead. I wanted to see him in his coffin.” Martin’s mother gasped and slammed the door in Mary’s face. She was stunned a child could stoop so low to such painful behavior. She questioned herself only briefly regarding whether she had misunderstood the girl’s words, but she couldn’t dismiss the feeling of evil she had felt emanating from Mary’s smile. No, Mary definitely intended to wound her. She was certain of that. It would be Mary’s eerie grin that would eventually cause her ultimate undoing.

Little Martin would be laid to rest in a pauper’s grave with no headstone. Only the flowers his mother brought regularly, marked his grave. But, then, what epitaph could you possibly write about a child whose life had been snuffed out too soon? So many milestones would never get marked; never graduating high school, nor starting a family. What can one possibly say?

No one around Mary Bell could be at peace or rest well. No one was safe, nor spared from her angry wrath. The beautiful angelic face with startlingly big blue eyes framed by a page boy haircut, was a deceptive façade. After Martin Brown’s tiny coffin was laid to rest, Mary turned on her best friend Norma and viciously attacked her. Clawing at her face and kicking her in the head, Mary issued a warning that she was a murderer, who would kill again if provoked.

Children who witnessed the scuffle laughed it off as just Mary being Mary. No one took her admission of guilt or warnings seriously. That grievous mistake would soon haunt every adult and child who shook their heads and did nothing.

Of course, Mary was to blame for her actions, but is it not the weight of guilt shifting slightly on to those who stand idly by? No one protected Mary from the abuse at home and no one protected the neighborhood children from Mary, that is, until she killed a second time.

She Pressed and He Just Dropped

Like Martin Brown before him, Brian Howe was a preschooler in Mary’s neighborhood. Sweet and trusting, it’s still unknown how Mary talked the three-year-old into coming with her. Yet on July 11, 1968, Mary took little Brian Howe to an area trash heap the local children had dubbed, “Tin Lizzie.” And, this time, she brought Norma along with her.

Oftentimes, one way perpetrators ensure silence from witnesses to their crimes is by forcing the bystanders to take part. Everyone gets their hands dirty. People are far less likely to squeal on you if they feel they will be punished for their part, as well. This is especially true with adolescents, as many child predators know. If the child feels they are to blame for what occurs, their silence is often guaranteed.

And if that fails, well, there’s always threats. “You see what I did to this person. I can do the same to you.” This fit Mary’s pattern of manipulative behavior quite well. So whether Norma was an active and willing participant, or whether she was frightened into taking part, the fact is, she was there. And, she did nothing to stop the savagery. She was now a co-conspirator, soon to be co-defendant. She could have told the young boy to run, get away before something horrible happened to him. But Norma did exactly what so many people had been doing in situations where Mary was concerned; she did nothing.

Mary was a leader. Norma was a follower. The roles had been assigned and the die cast. It would have never even occurred to Norma that things didn’t have to be this way — that she had options. It was speculated that Norma had a diminished mental capacity. When we determine whether a person is guilty of a crime, we ask ourselves if this person knew the difference between right and wrong. Thirteen-year-old Norma knew harming children was wrong. Her attempts at putting the blame on Mary, her denials and her lies, tell us she absolutely knew something bad had happened, and she did not want to be associated with the crime in any way.

But, to what degree Norma understood what was happening and participated, we can only speculate. She was the perfect pawn for Mary. Mary had been controlled — made to do things she didn’t want to do her whole life, and with these acts, not only did she control the victims, she controlled Norma. She held the power of life and death in the palm of her tiny hands as she wrapped them around the boy’s throat and squeezed.

However, the girls managed to entice the toddler in to going along; perhaps feeling important that older children wanted to spend time with him, or perhaps being promised sweets. The two young criminals killed the boy and left his body lying between some concrete blocks in the dump, like he was trash. Brian was suffocated and strangled, his tiny body left partially undressed and mutilated. Mary had brought a razor and a pair of scissors along with her. If this wasn’t a premeditated occurrence, then what is? She already knew the means she would use to kill the boy. This wasn’t about killing, this was about shock. This was payback for things that had been done to her, and consequently, more about control and power.

Using the razor and scissors to cut clumps of the boy’s lovely curly hair, Mary also jabbed holes in the little boy’s thighs, and mutilated his genitals by partially skinning his penis. But that wasn’t enough for Mary. Maybe thinking she could pin the murder and mutilation on her friend, Mary carved an “N” in Brian’s abdomen. However Mary, always wanting to be the center of attention, always bragging and boastful, changed her mind. As an afterthought, she used the razor to add a fourth line, changing the “N” to an “M,” signing her gruesome masterpiece and sealing her fate. The markings on his abdomen wouldn’t show up for a couple of days after the murder, but when the worker at the morgue noticed this incriminating evidence, he was sickened.

Mary ran her hands over the tot’s lips, which were already turning cyanotic from lack of oxygen, and told Norma that she enjoyed it immensely. In some strange sort of tribute, Mary gathered dried grass and purple flowers, sprinkling them liberally over the tiny corpse. Mary left the mutilated, lifeless body, but she was far from being done. In a repeat of the torment she’d put her first victim’s family through, she decided it’d be a lark to do the same with Brian’s family.

As it was nearing dinnertime, she knew Brian’s family would be expecting him home soon, looking for him when he didn’t arrive. Instead of heading home, Mary directed her steps toward Brian’s house, and sure enough, there was his sister Pat, dispatched to find the toddler. She was greeted by the creepy grin, now a mainstay of Mary’s. Mary spoke to her about looking for Brian and offered to assist in the search. Mary led Pat on a wild goose chase over railroad tracks and around junked cars, suggesting maybe he was playing over near the concrete blocks. Of course, Mary knew where Brian could be found the entire time, but she wasn’t ready to end her twisted game just yet. Mary wanted to see a reaction. She hoped the shocking sight of her dead and mutilated brother’s body would upset his sister.

Mary had been hurt consistently by others her entire life, especially those who were supposed to love and care for her. Now she was the one in charge, pulling the strings. The power of being able to take someone’s life and the added power of hurting her victim’s loved ones was intoxicating. Freud would have a lot to say about Mary Bell, if he’d been around to examine her. A dissertation could be written on what he would term her “penis envy.” Mostly likely she had been driven by her powerlessness to stop others from hurting her sexually and subconsciously.

On some level, Mary’s killing male children and the subsequent genital mutilation, must’ve been empowering. Her shining blue eyes mirrored delight as she anticipated horrifying Brian’s sister. However, Pat decided to go home and report that she had been unable to find her little brother. Mary presumably disappointed, would have to settle for delayed gratification, but one can imagine Mary skipping happily home, quite pleased with herself.

Although Mary would eventually be branded by court psychiatrists as psychopathic, the correct term might, in fact, be sociopathic. Sociopaths are unable to relate to their victim’s feelings, and as we have already established, Mary felt very little, least of all anything bordering on empathy. Manipulative behavior is another characteristic of sociopaths, and Mary had directly manipulated or attempted to manipulate others actions and emotions. She wanted Pat to find Brian, to feel the shock. Even though she hadn’t been able to manipulate and steer Pat right then, she still held the power of knowing where Brian was and what happened to him. By her inaction — not notifying anyone — she was still working the puppet strings and manipulating others’ feelings. By allowing them to fret and worry, she could go to bed knowing the only sleep Brian would experience was the eternal slumber he’d find in his tiny coffin.

Around 11:30 that night, Mary was woken from her slumber by a commotion outside. The police had found Brian Howe. Over the next few days, the police would canvas the neighborhood, interviewing children from as young as Brian Howe up to teenagers. Two children stood out from the rest. Their words and actions just didn’t seem quite right. For example, when questioned by the police, Norma was described as acting “excited.” One officer stated, “She was continually smiling, as if it was a huge joke.” Mary did not seem to be affected by the tragedy.

It was only in retrospect that Brian’s family recall that after Martin Brown’s murder, Mary had not only been at the Howe home, but had made a startling admission. She told the family she knew “something about Norma that would get her put away.” Mary stated Norma had put her hands on a boy’s throat; implying it was Martin Brown. “She pressed and he just dropped,” Mary had said, punctuating it by wrapping her hands around her own throat and falling to the ground.

Was Mary covering her tracks by placing the blame on Norma? Was she foreshadowing things to come? Had Mary already planned to do to Brian Howe what she’d just described Norma doing to Martin? Only after Brian’s death would the family recall that strange conversation. Mary had been dismissed once again, but not for long.

As the investigation started pointing towards the two girls, investigators learned from Mary that she suddenly “remembered” seeing a certain 8-year-old boy hitting Brian and pushing him around without any apparent reason. She also stated the boy had a pair of scissors with him and described them as: “silver colored and something wrong with the scissors, like one leg was either broken or bent.” Mary had just put herself at the scene of the crime by perfectly describing the weapon involved in Brian Howe’s death. No one had mentioned the pair of scissors found with the body when the police discovered it. Only someone at the crime scene could have known about them. It was only after inquiring the whereabouts of the eight-year-old child Mary had fingered for the crime, did investigators discover he had been out of town the day of the murder. Now investigators were certain Mary was involved.

 

Check out the rest of Marys story on Amazon Here

 

The post Mary Flora Bell: The Horrific True Story Behind an Innocent Girl Serial Killer appeared first on Ryan Becker True Crime Books.

The following is the first 4 chapters of my book “Paul Bernardo and Karla Homolka: The Horrific True Story Behind Canada’s Ken and Barbie Killers”

 

Quick note from the Author

The following is a true story based on facts garnered from official documents, police reports, trial transcripts, interviews, conversations, and other sources. It is a disturbing story and the author has made the decision to withhold some details; such as the more graphic descriptions of the rapes and sexual assaults on the underage victims.

The author attempts, as always, to present the truth, while showing respect to victims and families.
Some passages are creative interpretations used by the author based on known facts, and will be followed by (CI).
Thank you.

Prologue

The brutality of the crimes committed by Paul Bernardo and Karla Homolka, the rape and murder of teenage girls; one being Karla’s own sister, might not cause anyone to bat an eye today. In Canada, in the latter part of the last century, however, people were stunned. First, the multiple rapes by an unknown assailant dubbed, “The Scarborough Rapist” had women terrified to be alone. Soon after, “The Schoolgirl Murders” rocked the area.
What no one expected, when authorities finally announced they had made an arrest and had a confession, was how eerily normal the felons looked. Both young, blond and tanned, the married couple were to become known as, “The Ken and Barbie Killers.”

The publication ban regarding their crimes and evidence collected made them even more mysterious and intriguing.
What makes people commit such despicable acts against not just fellow humans, but their own flesh and blood? Were there other crimes Bernardo and Homolka were never charged with? Any unsolved cases of young women who were found murdered, or never found at all? Was Paul Bernardo controlling Karla and she was just another victim, or was she the puppet master?

These are a few of the questions that have plagued me since I first heard of the deadly duo and their crimes twenty-plus years ago. I will attempt to shed some light on the two from my own research and maybe find a few answers.

I do think most of the answers will go with Bernardo, Homolka, and their victims to the grave.
Join me if you dare.

Tammy

Paul loves Tammy
Tammy loves Paul
Mrs. Paul Bernardo
Tammy Bernardo

Tammy had a crush.
She sighed deeply as she scrawled in a notebook in large, loopy handwriting favored by crushing, teenage girls. The radio in her bedroom played a love ballad as she daydreamed about her oldest sister, Karla’s, boyfriend. She really liked Paul. She knew he liked her, too. He had told her.

Maybe she should have felt guilty about the stolen kisses the two had shared, but she couldn’t bring herself to. She loved Karla, but she could be a real pain. Always flaunting her looks, her boyfriend, anything she thought might make her baby sister jealous, and most of the time, it worked. Not this time though.

Tammy could still see Karla’s angry face and hear her ear-piercing screeches when she and Paul had shown up several hours after leaving to go on a beer run. Karla cursed at Tammy while Tammy had inwardly smiled to herself. It had felt amazing that her big sister was actually jealous of her, for once. And no wonder, Paul was a great catch.

Tall and blond, he had a great job, and a rad sports car. During their outing, in between chugging beers and making out, Paul had told Tammy how much more beautiful and desirable he found her. She did not need to bleach her naturally fair locks, and her body was much firmer and toned. Next to her, Karla was a fat old cow.

Karla still thought they would be married one day, but there was nothing to worry about, he assured Tammy. She belonged to him and he planned on having her forever. As she looked out the window of her bedroom, watching for the first glimpse of his car pulling into the driveway, she knew she would do anything for Paul. She loved Paul so much, she could just die. (CI)

The snow drifted down slowly. It was to be a white Christmas; nothing unusual for St. Catherine’s, Ontario. It was the night before Christmas Eve, 1990, and festivities were in full swing in a suburban home a few miles from Niagara Falls. Upstairs in the split-level house, a mother, father, and their middle daughter slept, perhaps while visions of sugar plums danced in their heads.

Earlier, everyone had gathered to partake in spiked eggnog and other mixed drinks. Unbeknownst to parents Karel and Dorothy, their eldest daughter, Karla, had added about 50mg of the prescription sedative Halcion to drinks she had prepared for her youngest sister, Tammy. Her middle sister, Lori, noticed that Tammy seemed a bit buzzed and told Karla to stop giving Tammy alcohol. Upset that she was being ignored, Lori went to bed, followed shortly after by her parents.

Tammy, beginning to feel the effects of the combination of sedatives and alcohol, went upstairs to grab a bite to eat. She hoped the food would sober her up a bit. She did not want to fall asleep and miss the movie Karla had rented. It turned out it would not be the movie rental that was the showcase of the evening. It would be the movie made starring Tammy, and all that occurred during and after which changed so many lives forever, and ended the life of one person.

Downstairs in the den, fifteen-year-old Tammy Homolka continued partying with her older sister, Karla, and Karla’s boyfriend, Paul. Tammy and Karla’s parents were not prudish when it came to their children drinking. Even if they were not around to personally supervise things, they felt Karla and Paul could be trusted to take care of Tammy, and as long as they were drinking at home, their parents reasoned, they were safe. That night in 1990, nothing could be further from the truth.

Born in St. Catherine’s, Ontario, Canada, on January 1, 1976, the youngest of three girls, Tammy was a bubbly blond, whose large doe eyes gleamed through a fringe of platinum bangs. ‘Tow headed,’ is what old-timers used to call children with hair like Tammy’s so blond it was almost white. Tammy excelled at sports and had a trim, fit physique that any girl, even her sister, Karla, would kill to have.

Paul would flirt with Tammy, teasing her that she pretended not to know the effect she had on him. Tammy giggled as Paul wrapped her in his arms and kissed her on the cheek. Karla was not amused in the least. She loved her sister, but she loved Paul more and seethed with anger that her little sister had something Paul wanted that Karla could never give him. Tammy was still a virgin, and Tammy’s virginity was what Karla planned on giving her boyfriend for Christmas.

Karla had attempted to present her boyfriend with that gift before, but her plan had been derailed when Tammy woke suddenly from the Valium Karla had mixed in her spaghetti. Karla, who worked at a veterinary clinic, had stolen some of the sedative and drugged Tammy. After eating the spiked food, Tammy had passed out and Paul had begun undressing her, and preparing to rape her when she suddenly regained consciousness. Infuriated, Paul stormed from the room, while a confused Tammy was coaxed by her sister to disrobe and go to bed. She must have been extremely tired, said Karla, since she practically fell asleep eating dinner.

Confused but unquestioning, Tammy took her older sister’s advice. Moving as if she were in a daze and her limbs feeling heavy and limp like a ragdoll, Tammy managed to remove her clothes and crawl under her thick comforter. As she passed out once again into dreamless unconsciousness, she had no idea someone was watching her. Paul Bernardo stood over her sleeping body and masturbated. It was not as satisfying as the rape he had planned earlier, but it would have to do until he got another opportunity.

December 23, 1990, was the chance Paul had been waiting for. A few weeks earlier he had taken Tammy on a beer run, which had ended up taking several hours. He had admitted to Karla that he had used the opportunity to make out with Tammy, but did not dare to take it any farther than kissing and heavy petting. Besides, it was rape, not consensual sex that gave Paul his kicks. He wanted Tammy desperately, now more than ever after their make-out session, but he craved the physical brutality and control raping someone gave him.

Paul had waited, biding his time, often resorting to standing outside Tammy’s window and masturbating as she changed clothes. Tonight was going to be different, however. Tonight, he would possess Tammy physically. With Karla’s help, Paul would take what he desired.

Logs popped and crackled in the downstairs den’s large fireplace. Tammy was consuming a far greater amount of alcohol than either Paul or Karla. Karla kept refreshing her sister’s drink and Tammy, feeling mature and happy to be included in activities with two adults who were treating her as a peer, kept drinking, not wanting the fun to end.

Soon Tammy was getting sleepy and having a difficult time keeping her eyes open. The room listed and began to spin as a wave of nausea swept over the teen. Karla, playing nursemaid, comforted her younger sister and reassured her that she would feel much better after a nap. She and Paul would not ditch her, Karla said. They would stay with Tammy the entire time.

That is exactly what the couple did. As Tammy passed out from the alcohol she had consumed, Karla got the next part of the plan ready. She had once again used her job at the veterinary clinic to obtain a drug she hoped would keep her sister unconscious until Paul could complete the act this time.

At work, Karla had seen the effects of a drug called Halothane; used as an anesthetic for surgical procedures. Halothane’s sedative effects were closely monitored in the clinic, however, where supplemental oxygen would be used, as well as a flow meter to measure the amount of Halothane given. Patients given Halothane are often intubated; meaning a tube is inserted orally to keep the airway patent. Karla knew the dangers of the drug being used in a non-clinical setting and the increased sedative effects when combined with alcohol.

Paul grabbed his video camera, a different one from the one he had been using earlier to tape the entire Homolka family as they drank eggnog and kidded around. Focusing the lens on Tammy, Paul instructed Karla to help him undress Tammy. The couple took turns raping Tammy, and it would all be caught on film.

Karla held the Halothane-soaked cloth tightly to Tammy’s nose and mouth, fearful of Tammy regaining consciousness; like their previous attempt. Instead of regaining consciousness, Tammy began to vomit, sending Paul and Karla into a panic. Further adding to the frantic situation, Tammy choked on her own vomit, aspirated, and stopped breathing.

In a flurry of activity, the couple quickly cleaned Tammy up and dressed her before calling for an ambulance. So great was their panic that instead of simply turning the den light on so they could see better, they dragged Tammy into Karla’s room. Paul made a half-hearted attempt at CPR, but the little time they had before medical technicians arrived was devoted to hiding evidence and cleaning up the scene. The blanket Tammy had vomited on was thrown in the washing machine, and the bottles of Halothane and Halcion stashed out of sight.

Tammy’s parents did not even realize anything was amiss until the emergency lights and sirens alerted them. As medics attempted resuscitative measures, Karla assured her parents Tammy was looking better and appeared to be regaining her color. Karel and Dorothy followed the ambulance to the hospital, while Karla, Lori, and Paul stayed behind to answer questions. Tammy would never regain consciousness and was later pronounced dead at the hospital.

The couple’s story, that Tammy had become intoxicated and began vomiting from the alcohol, before losing consciousness, was suspicious, but accepted by both the family and medical staff. Despite having a chemical burn that covered the side of her face, Tammy’s death was chalked up to being just a terrible accident. The medical examiner reasoned that the burn could have been caused by gastric juices Tammy expelled while vomiting. Karla said she thought it was a carpet burn Tammy received when she and Paul attempted to drag her body into a position in which they would be able to perform CPR once they realized she was no longer breathing.

Looking back, as with most extended criminal investigations, there were so many mix-ups and missed opportunities. Opportunities for the authorities to catch the perpetrators and prevent some of the future carnage that resulted from a pair of rapists and killers running loose on the streets. The Canadian government, law enforcement particularly, has been judged harshly for decisions that resulted in a frustratingly prolonged investigation in which inaccurate eyewitness testimony was relied on too heavily, while DNA that could have identified the guilty party remained untested for over two years.

The dozens of victims of the sex crimes Paul Bernardo committed, whether alone, or as he alleges, in conjunction with Karla Homolka, might have been spared the assaults they were to suffer. Leslie Mahaffy and Kristen French might still be alive with families of their own. If the crimes had been stopped with that committed against Tammy Lyn Homolka, how different would things have turned out for everyone involved? How much pain and loss could others have been spared?

It is difficult to fathom that Paul Bernardo, who would eventually be linked via DNA to the Scarborough sex crimes, was pulled in and questioned regarding the assaults on more than one occasion. Bernardo even joked with law enforcement that he could also see a resemblance between himself and a sketch of the rapist created from victims descriptions. It seemed to be just a part of his sick game — a game with deadly consequences.

Tammy was laid to rest on December 27, 1990, only a few days short of her sixteenth birthday. The funeral home had done its best to cover the large reddish-purple burn on her cheek, for it was to be an open casket service. Karla kept stroking her sister’s hair, and she and Paul both kissed Tammy’s cold lips, telling her how much they loved her. Not until more deaths occurred involving Paul Bernardo and Karla Homolka, would the trinkets the couple had placed in the casket be found.

When Tammy’s body was exhumed, it was noted that Karla had placed a necklace around Tammy’s neck; the same necklace she had been wearing in the video of Karla and Paul raping Tammy. On the necklace was a gold ring belonging to Bernardo. They had also placed photos of themselves, and an invitation to their wedding. When the authorities passed this news on to Karel and Dorothy, they asked that the items not be returned to the coffin before Tammy was once again returned to her resting place.

Paul Loses It

Paul had anticipated that Christmas 1990 would be the best of his entire life. He couldn’t recall any happy childhood memories revolving around Christmas. Karla was the one person he had spoken openly with regarding how miserable his upbringing had been. His mother was a constant source of embarrassment for him, and he hated her for blurting out the news that he had been the product of an extramarital affair.

Karla had planned so meticulously how she would obtain her Christmas gift of Tammy for Paul. She had begun researching prescription sedatives and decided that the drug Halcion would be the safest to administer. Using her youth and her looks, she had visited male physicians, who she found sympathetic to her complaints of insomnia and was able to obtain multiple prescriptions.

When Tammy died, Paul blamed Karla for her death. Karla should have known the correct dosage of Halcion, she should not have held the Halothane-soaked rag directly to Tammy’s face, especially for the length of time that she did. In effect, Paul fell apart psychologically and was well on his way to either a nervous breakdown or suicide.

Not only was he staring at pictures of Tammy all the time and crying uncontrollably, but he was doing so in the presence of other people. He told his friends he did not want to live without Tammy. His alcohol and drug use escalated after Tammy’s death, and Karla watched her boyfriend unravel with mixed emotions.

On the one hand, if he died; from an accidental overdose or by suicide, then Karla would be free to move on, something the teenager was good at. Snagging Paul Bernardo and having him propose to her had been a rush at the time, proof she was capable of getting anyone to do anything. But the fact of the matter was, she did not love him. Well, she loved him, but she did not “love him, love him.”

In addition to gaining her freedom, Karla would also garner even more sympathy from people after having just lost Tammy. That sympathy represented power to Karla; when people fawned all over her and her poor-pitiful-me act, they were ripe for manipulation. Karla could play the victim to the hilt; she had been doing it her whole life to perfect the part.

Karla was excellent at stepping back and seeing all the options laid out in front of her and anticipating other people’s next move before they were even aware of what they were about to do. Paul keeping trophies, things that had belonged to Tammy, was understandable to Karla. She had read plenty of true crime books and knew that was a common trait. Keeping the clothes Tammy had worn that fateful night were one thing, but the last cereal box she had eaten from? That was taking things too far.

What if Paul anticipated the police one day figuring out the true cause of Tammy’s death? Karla wondered, could he be laying the groundwork for an insanity defense? Certainly the way he would beat his head with his fists repeatedly while he wailed and cried to their friends about how much he loved and missed Tammy made him seem insane.

Paul had not only entrusted the secrets of his sad home life with Karla and the fantasies he had of abduction and rape, he had also told her about rapes he had committed before and during their relationship. Karla had tried convincing Paul that her planning and helping carry out possible future abductions and rapes would be the wise thing to do. Karla was so sure of her propensity to pull off the perfect crime, she believed her involvement would keep them out of prison.

It has been thought by some people in hindsight, that, although part of Karla’s argument for being involved was telling Paul this would bring them even closer, she had no desire to salvage the dwindling relationship. Karla enjoyed calling the shots, the excitement of planning crimes, the thrill of feeling she was intellectually superior to others, that she could outsmart not only potential victims, but also law enforcement.

Karla Takes Control

Paul still was not one hundred percent on board with turning over control to Karla. He did not relish the thought of having to share every experience with someone else either. Although he would let her plan some events, such as the Kristen French abduction they would go on to commit together, sometimes Paul wanted the stalking and raping all to himself.

Paul was also an opportunist, however, and was happy to rape a woman with little time or effort expended hunting her down. Especially if she had insulted or snubbed him. More so if he was intoxicated and she turned away his advances in front of his friends.

Such was the situation one night after Paul and Karla had moved into their pink abode, where they would go on to murder Leslie Mahaffy and Kristen French. The couple had invited friends over for the usual debauchery — drinking and drugging ‘til the wee hours. Paul’s friend had brought along the girl he was dating and her best friend. Both girls were seventeen at the time.

Paul started out attempting to charm the girl, but as the alcohol and pills he had taken began to take effect, he became more belligerent and difficult to deal with. Only years later would Paul’s friend and his girlfriend tell authorities what had occurred that night. No one had confronted Paul or Karla about what had taken place.

The seventeen-year-old, after rebuffing Paul, had made her way to a downstairs bathroom. While she was using the bathroom, Paul had pushed his way in. There, in the bathroom, he had raped the girl as she pleaded for help and begged him to stop. Paul was way too mad to stop. After the assault, the girl told the couple with whom she had gone to the Bernardo-Homolka residence what had taken place.

No one confronted Paul or called police. No one even called a cab to ferry the brutalized girl to a hospital, since everyone was too bombed to drive her anywhere themselves. Instead, they spent a sleepless night inside the same house, where she had been raped with the rapist passed out a few yards away. In the morning they all sat around the kitchen table eating fast food, no one daring to speak of the events of the previous night.

Clearly, in Karla’s thinking, Paul had enjoyed himself that night and they knew they could count on those involved to keep their mouths shut, but it was yet another example of Paul’s recklessness and risk-taking. She had instructed Paul to carry pantyhose in his glovebox and use them as a mask when the urge to rape struck him. Paul complied with placing them in his car, but he never used them to disguise his appearance, merely to bind the victims.

He also never used a condom; even though Karla pointed out the stupidity of his non-compliance with this particular request of hers. While he had been raping her sister, Tammy, Karla had been afraid he might impregnate the teen and that was something even she couldn’t explain away. She was not worried about him impregnating the strangers he assaulted, though, instead she was concerned with the possibility he might leave DNA behind. Paul didn’t share her concern. He was convinced he was careful about not leaving clues behind, and that if the police hadn’t nabbed him for the crimes so far, they never would.

So certain was he in his own invincibility and the fallibility of the still relatively new science of using DNA to catch criminals that when authorities questioned him about a series of rapes, he consented willingly to their request for DNA sample. Paul Bernardo felt like one of the legendary Untouchables. Since none of the Canadian cops he encountered seemed to have the mental fortitude of the late great Elliot Ness, Bernardo had no worries.

A precaution Bernardo did occasionally take was wiping down surfaces to erase any fingerprints he might have left. It occurred to him that a better solution was not leaving fingerprints in the first place. Karla had been trying to think up gift ideas for Paul, when ironically, he came up with the idea to request the same item of clothing that would help clear O.J. Simpson of murder charges during his criminal trial: a pair of black Isotoner gloves.

Maybe Karla should have gifted herself a pair. After the abduction of Kristen French, police found a torn portion of the map used by Karla in her ruse to get Kristen away from the busy street by standing in a church parking lot where Bernardo was parked and inquiring about directions. Investigators dusted the scrap of paper for fingerprints they later identified as belonging to Karla.

For all her belief she was a criminal mastermind, Karla made one of the simplest errors possible. Now authorities knew that the year plus they had devoted to searching for the two white men in a cream-colored Camaro, that witnesses said were involved in the abduction was an unforgivable mistake and a waste of precious time they would never get back.

It was a mistake among many law enforcement made that would never be forgotten.
 

The Princess and the Knight-mare

“This place isn’t a diner or a dive, it is a dump,” she silently mused to herself, puffing her cheeks full of air that she expelled upwards towards her bleached blond bangs. The processed, frizzled hair blew up away from her forehead only slightly, since it was shellacked into place with so much hairspray that it was practically a fire hazard. Her friend sat across from her in the booth chattering away, oblivious to her friend’s mood.

As she scanned the dark restaurant, several guys attempted to catch her eye. Not a chance in hell. She let loose an audible sigh of boredom. Then, as her eyes reached the entrance, she saw a man so striking, he could have been a marble statue of an ancient god come to life. “That is more like it,” she purred internally.

The Adonis locked eyes with her as he pushed past the maître d’ stationed at the front of the restaurant. He needed no help finding a table. He knew exactly where he was headed. Used to his buddy taking the lead, his best friend trailed along behind him silently as they approached the two women seated in the dimly-lit booth. As he got closer, she could feel the vibrations of the music that filled the air and it felt as if her entire body tingled and throbbed to the beat.

Coyly, she dropped a napkin on the floor as he approached, using the excuse to snake her long, slender leg out to try to reach the errant napkin with her foot. Catching the object with the toe of her shoe, she slowly slid her foot back under the table and bent to retrieve the napkin, displaying a great deal of cleavage, just as she had planned. Her friend giggled nervously, as she observed the events unfolding around her, having finally stopped her incessant yammering. (CI)

When Paul Bernardo and Karla Homolka met, she was seventeen and he was twenty-three. While young, Karla was far from naïve. Both had spent their lives lying to others, as well as themselves.

Karla told people one week she was going to study criminal justice and work in law enforcement. The next week, she would say she planned on studying medicine and working as a veterinarian. Paul, on the other hand, appeared to have his future laid out for him in the white collar world of investments. Both had the dreams, but not the drive.

Paul’s job would soon tank and he would be back to smuggling cigarettes and liquor across the border. Granted, the money was sensational, certainly more than he had been making at his previous job, and the danger involved, though minimal, was a stimulant. The image of an outlaw seemed to appeal to Paul. Of course, there was also the career he was planning in rap music. He wrote his own lyrics, telling anyone who would listen that he was going to be the next Vanilla Ice.

The nearest Karla would come to being a veterinarian was working for one. She enjoyed the job, but never made the push to furthering her education. Helping out around the office was quite taxing enough for the pampered princess.

Nothing much was expected from Karla; she played the “dumb blond” role to the hilt. She had learned long ago that if people thought you were not very smart, they expected less from you, which saved you a lot of work. She also realized that when a person was considered ditzy and not very bright, people let their guard down. They trusted you more and were easier to manipulate because they never expected it, especially if you let them believe what you wanted from them was actually their idea.

It was simple psychology and so far it had worked. Karla allowed Paul to believe he called the shots, that he was the one in control, never realizing that he was playing right into Karla’s hand. She would have pitied him really, if she had not despised him so much.

Sometimes the role of the doting, wide-eyed waif bored her to tears and made her want to retch, but it was getting her what she wanted, so she did her best to suppress those feelings. Karla had wanted the diamond ring, nice house, and expensive car, and she was well on her way to getting everything she wanted.

Paul truly thought she feared him when he threw his temper tantrums. He had gotten physical with her a time or two, but for the most part you just had to ride it out and wait for his mood to improve. Karla had a quick temper herself and even goaded him at times. She let people think he was the bad guy and she was terrified of him because it suited her purpose. Sometimes she liked the brief violent physical encounters their arguments preceded.

Regardless of the reasons why, Karla desperately wanted to hang onto Paul. Be it that she wanted to call the shots, and it was over only when she decided it was over, or if failure in the relationship would damage her pride and ego and cause her to feel rejected, she was willing to go to any lengths to keep him. As their relationship evolved, Paul revealed more of his dark fantasies and evil deeds, and Karla told him she wanted to be a part of them.

Paul’s attraction to girls who were petite, with small breasts and a more prepubescent look could have been caused by pedophilic desires alone, or simply a desire to have someone sexually who was untouched by anyone else. He repeatedly stated it was virgins he was most interested in possessing and raping. That was allegedly most of the allure of Tammy. She looked so much like Karla, but she was pure and undefiled.

Later choosing to abduct young schoolgirls, such as Leslie Mahaffy and Kristen French was due to this desire. He quizzed them regarding what sexual experience they had and wanted them even more once he felt he had acquired virgins for himself. What Paul didn’t know at the time was that neither girl was a virgin. Both Leslie Mahaffy and Kristen French had boyfriends, and both had already lost their virginity.

Oddly enough, Kenneth Bernardo didn’t share any biological link with Paul, who had grown up thinking he was his biological son; yet they both shared a disturbing attraction to young girls. Was this some horrible perverse proof of the nature versus nurture argument or just coincidence? If it was coincidence, an even stranger coincidence was the day both Bernardos were scheduled to appear in the same courtroom. The elder Bernardo was in court to answer charges regarding sexual crimes his daughter he had abused for years said he was now committing on her daughter, and the younger Bernardo was in court to answer to charges for sexually assaulting underage girls.

 

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The following is the first 4 chapters of my book “Marcus Wesson: The Horrific True Story Behind
Fresno’s Worst Mass Murderer”

 

Monsters Are Real

There is nothing unusual about believing in monsters as a child, but chances are you eventually stopped asking your parents to check under your bed. At some point, most children stop believing the bogeyman is waiting in the closet for them to drift off to dreamland, but anyone who reads true crime stories can tell you, without hesitation, monsters are real. They don’t present with horns or a tail, and we often don’t recognize them for what they are until it is too late, yet they move amongst us every day of our life.

On March 12, 2004, a monster would emerge from the shadows; a self-proclaimed vampire god, clothing soaked with blood. But who was he, and what events led to this massacre?

The answer you receive when posing this question depends greatly on who you ask. One of Wesson’s sisters sees the young boy who loved animals, and who she felt had a natural gift for healing. Their mother related a story, when she told her son a dog he was caring for couldn’t possibly survive, yet Wesson appeared to intuitively know what to do for the animal, nursing it back from the brink of death. Wesson’s children all say he was a loving father, involved in every aspect of their lives.

In contrast, police and prosecutors will more than likely tell you that Wesson is evil incarnate. Any love that Marcus Wesson bestowed upon his children, was tainted by perversion. How then did the Wesson accused of these horrific atrocities develop from the kind, nurturing young man his sibling and mother remember? Let’s begin with a little more background information.

Born Marcus Delon Wesson on August 22, 1946, in Kansas, to Benjamin; reportedly a violent and abusive alcoholic, and Carrie; a religious fanatic, according to her son. Wesson would live a relatively uneventful life until he became obsessed with religion — a religion of his own making one most of us would label a cult. Wesson stated Jesus Christ was a vampire and then proclaimed himself to be, at times, Jesus Christ, and at other times, God. Wesson declared himself a vampire god, and although he could twist the scriptures in the Bible to reflect his teachings, before long he was writing his own version that reflected his strange beliefs.

His favorite game to play as a child was a preacher leading his flock, where he could be the center of attention. That childhood game never stopped for Wesson, it merely grew more bizarre. The Seventh Day Adventist beliefs he had been raised upon would be combined with Wesson’s personal beliefs in polygamy, and incest. He believed that he and his family were like vampires, but different because they had souls; whereas vampires were prevented from moving around in daylight because they were soulless.

Wesson was an unimpressive student, not even earning enough credits to graduate from high school. While he was allowed to participate in his class’s graduation exercises, Wesson never received a diploma. By most recollections, Wesson was a quiet individual, often fading into the background. Similarly, childhood acquaintances say he never allowed himself to be pressured by classmates to try drugs or alcohol. Despite Wesson’s size, he was usually more inclined to be bullied rather than bully anyone himself. His peers recall it was his appearance, not his academics, that made him stand out. While other students dressed in jeans and t-shirts, Wesson wore dress pants and button up shirts with a tie.

But no one, not even his own mother, could see any resemblance between the quiet young man with the crew cut, who loved electric trains, to the 300-pound dreadlocked monster the world was introduced to in 2004. Could it really be true that the man who was once an orderly and ambulance driver in the Army, might be guilty of the multiple murders he stood charged with? What made him go from saving lives to taking them?

It is alleged that Wesson’s father had molested him, and his siblings. On the witness stand, Wesson’s sister didn’t come right out and confirm this, but she did state that when their father was drinking, he was much more inclined to hug and kiss them. The children knew the best way to avoid unwanted physical affection, when their father Benjamin was drunk, was to hide until he sobered up. In fact, a childhood friend of Wesson’s testified that Benjamin had once offered to pay him $50 in exchange for oral sex.

Wesson’s father would eventually run off with a male cousin, with whom he was having a homosexual affair. That incestuous affair seems to have gone on for a decade before Wesson’s father then reappeared to take on his paternal duties once again, as if nothing happened. Perhaps this is where Wesson got the idea that it was somehow okay to carry on sexual relations within your own family and that fathers had special ways of “loving” their children.

It is unknown just how much Wesson’s mother, Carrie, knew about the abuse and incest her husband perpetrated upon his children. Likewise for Elizabeth, whom Wesson would marry and start a family with. She went on to deny that she knew anything about Wesson touching the girls, or about taking them as his wives and lovers, even with resounding evidence that clearly shows otherwise. More than one time, it was alleged at trial, Elizabeth had walked in to find one of the girls performing oral sex on her husband. She firmly denies this ever occurred. She also said she never suspected Wesson was the father of her daughters’ and nieces’ babies; she never asked who the babies’ father was, insisting that if the girls wanted her to know, they would have told her.

Is it possible that over a decade of incest, resulting in multiple children, could go on under the same roof without anyone suspecting? If you believe Elizabeth, Wesson, and even some of her sons, the answer is yes. It is difficult to imagine that in the small spaces the large family occupied, secrets that dark could be kept for so many years. Events in the 20th century would teach us that when family members are under a strong psychological hold, as seen within other “families,” such as the Manson family, the Branch Davidians, and members of Jonestown, perhaps it is simply a self-survival technique to believe and do what you’re told, no matter what.

When we read about criminals, we don’t merely want the gory details of the crimes, but we long to understand the rationale. If we could get inside the mind of the criminal, we might be able to decipher what went wrong and why. Many people have built careers attempting to understand the criminal mind, and yet, all too often, we are left with far more questions than answers.

 

A Family Affair

Wesson was discharged from the Army in 1968, and quickly took up with a married woman named Rosemary Maytorena. Nearly a decade and a half older, Rosemary already had several children of her own. It wasn’t long, however, before she had a son with Wesson, whom she named Adair. Wesson might have been happy with the new role of proud papa, but instead, he was far happier spending time with Rosemary’s eight-year-old daughter, Elizabeth.

Wesson’s interest in Elizabeth soon became physical. He quietly “wed” Elizabeth in an unofficial home ceremony, just as he would his daughters and nieces in the years to come. As his desire grew, he knew he had a decision to make; surely, the quiet girl would want to save herself for marriage. When Elizabeth was still in middle school, Wesson told her he had permission from her mother for the couple to marry. Wesson made the relationship official and wed his young bride, beginning a marriage that would span three decades.

The couple lived on one story of the house, while Elizabeth’s mother, Rosemary, Wesson’s ex-lover and mother of his eldest son, lived on a separate level. Wesson had already begun creating his unconventional family. The friction and tension of the living situation continued to worsen and Wesson decided it was time for him and Elizabeth to find other living arrangements. Wesson informed Rosemary that he needed her van to move the couple and their few belongings. When Rosemary balked, Wesson told her he would: either take the van, or take Adair, the son he’d had with her — the choice was hers. Wesson and Elizabeth left Adair behind as they drove away in the van.

In the beginning of their marriage, Wesson worked briefly in a bank. The man who, as a teen, dressed conservatively in button-down shirts and ties seemed to enjoy donning a suit and heading off to work. It didn’t last long, though, and Wesson was soon unemployed, dependent on the government aid his wife was able to receive. He would tell acquaintances over the years that he had worked in a bank, dabbled in real estate, and been a junk dealer for a while — most of which couldn’t be verified and were most likely embellishments.

The couple would go on to have ten children together, with one son dying from meningitis as an infant. Wesson even took in a number of Elizabeth’s nieces and nephews, per her sister’s request. Solorio was battling a serious drug addiction at the time. The children had been neglected by their mother, and abused and molested by people associated with their mother and her addiction. They were eager to move into the Wesson home, where they believed they would be safe. Wesson would go on to “marry” and have children with three of these nieces: Ruby Ortiz, Rosa and Sofina, sometimes called Sofia. These marriages were in addition to those with two of his own daughters.

The pattern that began with Elizabeth, the interruption of education and isolation, was a pattern and repeated with Wesson’s children, and the nieces and nephews he had taken in. Sofina, 11-years-old at the time, recalled: her uncle told her she would no longer be attending public school because Wesson planned on homeschooling the children, supplementing general course studies with hours of preaching his own bizarre beliefs. However, the truth of the matter was, the children received little, if any, homeschooling education. Sometimes the older girls would play “teacher” to the younger children; schooling seemed to consist of drawing pictures and coloring.

A trait that Wesson shared with his father, aside from the sickening proclivity towards incest and child molestation, was his clear refusal to work a steady job. Although thought of as fairly intelligent, and without any physical disability that would prevent him from working, Wesson adhered to the belief that the head of the household did not work. The large family, who subsisted on welfare and food stamps, moved often. Living arrangements varied frequently, including: a shack without running water and electricity, on a tugboat, and even times their home was an Army tent in the woods. Another example of Wesson’s eccentricity; although the family was camping in a second-hand tent without electricity or running water, he carpeted the floor of the tent.

Over the years Wesson owned several boats — all in various states of disrepair. It was one of these rundown boats that would draw attention from authorities. When it was discovered Wesson hadn’t claimed the boat while receiving government benefits, he was charged with welfare fraud. The city stated he had failed to list the vessel as an asset, defrauding the government of almost $25,000.

Had the boat been the family’s primary residence, Wesson would have been able to avoid it being considered an excess, or asset. But by the time Wesson attempted to claim this, it was too late. So he tried a different tactic: he wrote to the judge who was asked to preside over the case in a number of letters totaling nearly 80 pages. In his ramblings, Wesson stated not only was he aware of being investigated, but he himself was investigating the IRS, under the guise of actor Richard Widmark.

Clearly, Wesson had issues, but there is no proof anyone from child and family services ever investigated the children’s living environment, or their health and safety. These weren’t children taken regularly to the pediatrician for wellness visits. They didn’t go to public school, where a concerned teacher might have noticed signs of abuse. They were intentionally kept segregated from the outside world by their father. He knew the world would not accept his philosophies and teachings. Only after the deaths in 2004, would DNA testing provide proof that Wesson had fathered children he knew would be taken away, if the truth of their parentage were made known.

Looking back, a decade prior to the 2004 murders, Wesson gathered his family around the television, forcing them to watch the violence and destruction taking place a few states away. In Waco, Texas, David Koresh was waging war against the federal government to protect his constitutional rights regarding freedom of religion, and the right to live and raise a family as he saw fit. Wesson told his family there would be training for the “strongest soldier” like the Branch Davidians, who had holed up in their compound with an arsenal of weapons and ammunition.

If the government threatened the family, Wesson said they were to follow the plans of the murder-suicide pact he had formulated. Wesson also thought Koresh’s idea of having as many children as possible was clearly something ordained by God. At the time of the second coming of Christ, Wesson professed, the more children you could turn over to God, the greater your eternal reward. Therefore, Wesson would begin having as many children as he could, both with his own daughters and nieces.

 

House of Elizabeth

Since the tragedy, people have often asked why Wesson’s wife, Elizabeth, the only person to whom he was legally wed, didn’t try to put a stop to the incest and abuse. We can’t, in good conscious, excuse Elizabeth’s inaction or failure to protect the children she had given birth to, nor the nieces and nephews in her care. We can’t be sure how much Elizabeth was aware of, although it seems she must have known more than she is willing to admit, and quite possibly was in deep denial about what took place during the years she was married to Wesson.

Elizabeth had been taken in by Wesson at such a young age and kept so isolated that she really only knew the life he had shown her. Although Wesson and Elizabeth each listed themselves as “student” on their marriage license, Elizabeth stopped attending school during eighth grade. Her lack of education served Wesson well, keeping her dependent upon him. One of Elizabeth and Wesson’s sons would testify at the murder trial that if his mother didn’t know about the things taking place in the house, as she professed, she would have to be pretty dumb.

It seemed that Elizabeth lived in a self-imposed state of denial, catering to her husband’s every whim and attempting to keep peace and avoid making waves. If Wesson wanted to dine on fast food, while the rest of the family was forced to scavenge dumpsters for food, he did. If he wanted to eat cookies, while putting Elizabeth and the children on a sugar-free diet made up primarily of pinto beans and vegetables along with stale bread, he was the man of the house, and his word was law.

Although, following the murders, neighbors reported there were noxious smells coming from the house when the family prepared meals, no one said anything. The owner of a small convenience store the kids frequented while living on one of the boats, told reporters later she wondered what was going on when Sebhrena entered the store, apparently pregnant, and other girls began buying disposable diapers as well. She knew the girls at that time had no social life and very little contact with the outside world, but she said nothing at the time. If the girls walked away from Wesson while he was still speaking, neighbors later said, he would grab their hair and jerk them back violently. The long sleeve shirts, ankle-length skirts, and scarves on their heads could just have easily been about hiding bruises and other signs of abuse, as it was about satisfying Wesson’s idea of modest dress for girls. Still, no one spoke up on behalf of the children.

While on the witness stand at her husband’s murder trial, Elizabeth was asked why Wesson didn’t work, to which she replied that you aren’t allowed to work while receiving welfare. As ludicrous as this may sound, Elizabeth, in many ways, still inhabited the “concrete thinking” of a small child. It never occurred to her to think that if her husband worked, then they wouldn’t need to receive welfare. As Wesson assured outsiders, the Lord would always provide everything they needed without the necessity of him working. He was following God’s instructions and was His chosen one.

As Wesson developed his teachings and beliefs, he reinforced the idea that his word would and should never be questioned; his family must keep silent and obey. The girls learned this lesson early on through his version of “loving.” The girls submitted to his physical advances, his caressing of their breasts and their crotches through their underwear because that was what they were instructed to do. Wesson believed it was his job as head of the family and their father to train them how to perform acts that would be pleasing to their husbands someday. As the girls grew older and developed physically, Wesson became concerned about other males in the house, besides himself, becoming attracted to the girls. He ordered his sons and nephews to keep their distance, even forcing the boys and girls to live separately as an added precaution. He didn’t want anyone else touching his property.

At one time, after learning his son, Almae, was interested in dating a niece of Elizabeth’s by marriage, he wrote an edict for the boys which he titled, The House of Elizabeth. In the 14-page handwritten document, Wesson stated he had set his sons “free” and ordered them to “stay away from” the women in the house. If Almae failed to discontinue his pursuit of the young woman, Wesson warned the end result would be a family prayer, in which he would ask God to “remove the offending entity.” Wesson summed things up by saying: “Get a life! Find your own women as God has commanded.”

The loyalty the family displayed for Wesson, even after all the abuse he’d committed, was staggering. His children would profess he was a good father, and although diaries the girls kept at the time reflected happy moments in the family’s life, there was also sadness and pain. Each time during the murder trial one of the girls was asked to read a journal entry from the time they had lived with Wesson, they did so with reluctance and seemed ashamed to share times they were unhappy, even depressed; as though the admissions were a betrayal of their Master.

When quizzed on the witness stand during her husband/father’s murder trial, one of Wesson’s daughters, Kiani, stated that had her daughter not been killed that day in March 2004, she wouldn’t have wanted her growing up in that house the way she had. The prosecution pressured her, asking if it was because Wesson might start “loving” their daughter as he had her. She managed to avoid answering the question directly. The prosecutor pressed her on the issue, she looked down at her ring finger, which still held the ring her father had given her when they were “wed.” Stifling tears, Kiani replied she had wanted a different life for her daughter.

Wesson’s male children were encouraged to leave the house as soon as they were able to support themselves. He wasn’t taking any chances with competition from them, or have them challenge his authority. He had everyone under his influence; as the girls began showing obvious signs of pregnancy, he went so far as telling the boys they had been artificially inseminated. With the psychological hold Wesson had over his family, they accepted this explanation without question and learned not to ask questions. If you got out of line and forgot, Wesson wasn’t opposed to wielding a baseball bat to help you remember your place. Wesson’s son, Serafino, said he endured 30 consecutive days of beatings by his father for sneaking a spoonful of peanut butter. Wesson kept a stick wrapped in layers of duct tape handy for occasions such as this. The tape might have padded the stick enough to prevent breaking any major bones during the beating, but the psychological damage from the abuse left lasting scars.

 

Bow Before Your Master

Wesson served three months in jail for perjury and welfare fraud charges in 1990, involving the boat he had failed to list as an asset. When he was released, he decided it was time the family move into a more permanent residence. As part of his plan for financing a house, the girls were sent out to work at fast food restaurants, where they could make minimum wage without gaining much attention from coworkers. Wesson discovered a house for sale, damaged by fire and in need of approximately a quarter of a million dollars in repairs.

Wesson managed to convince the homeowner that his experience in home repairs was so proficient he could easily make the needed repairs himself. They settled on a price and payment plan, enabling Wesson to use the girls’ earnings from their fast food jobs to pay for the house. The current owner found out, as time went by, that not only were repairs left undone, but the family was living in a small shed behind the house. He also learned he was never going to get the money for the house Wesson had agreed to pay, so he handed the family their walking papers.

No matter where the family resided at the time, one thing Wesson always made time for was private meetings he referred to as “girl talks.” These talks were held on a weekly basis, always where he couldn’t be overheard by Elizabeth or the boys. In these discussions, he would warn the girls to stay away from boys, who only wanted to use them, and also reminded them to keep a distance from police officers, who he said were no better than servants of the devil.

The girls were expected to turn all earnings over to Wesson, who would occasionally let them have a small part of it to spend as they wanted. A local store owner recalls the kids would come in and buy Ramen noodles — the cheapest food in the store. She described the children as looking hungry and haunted. It was up to Wesson, as the head of the family, to decide what would be done with the money and he had big plans for the money they brought in.

Wesson would go on to purchase a residence, but this time he placed it in his wife’s name. He had learned his lesson about assets being listed in his name, when he had been sent to jail for welfare fraud. As long as he still pulled the strings as head of the household, it didn’t matter in the least to him that the abode would be in Elizabeth’s name. He ruled with an iron fist and demanded to be treated like a king. The girls practically tripped over each other to have the honor of scratching his armpits or caring for his long, gray dreadlocks. They referred to him as “Lord” or “Master.” If a girl were to show what was considered disrespect, she was instructed by her contemporaries to, “Bow before your Master.”

One of Wesson’s daughters, Kiani, who was also the mother of two of his children, kept a diary reflecting family life behind closed doors. In girlish curly handwriting, she spoke of Fridays being family movie night, or sometimes Wesson would come up with ideas for games such as an “ugly contest,” where each family member dressed up and made silly faces to see who would be the “ugly winner.” She also wrote often that, “Daddy was sweet today.” It was believed by prosecutors that this was code for the days her father had molested her, or as he called it, showing her “loving.”

As Wesson searched for a place for his rapidly expanding family, he knew it must be a standard house with electricity and running water. When they had lived on boats or out in the woods, the girls would carry buckets of waste and fresh water back and forth over quite a distance on rough terrain. Sure, the children didn’t have beds to call their own, but they were all together, and Marcus Wesson would do anything in his power to keep his family together, even if it meant being together in death and in the next world.

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The following is the first 4 chapters of my book “Ted Bundy: The Horrific True Story Behind America’s Most Wicked Serial Killer”

 

The Birth of a Psychopath

Every monster born into the world is an innocent, screaming baby — Ted Bundy was no exception. On November 24, 1946, our killer was born Theodore Robert to Louise Cowell in the city of Burlington, Vermont. In regards to his father, nothing certain can be said — it has never been determined, despite Louise claiming on the boy’s birth certificate the father had been a salesman and Air Force veteran. There were rumors among the family that Louise’s own dad may have fathered the child, but no evidence was ever produced supporting this claim.

Whichever the case, Louise moved into her parent’s house with the newborn Ted, and lived in Samuel and Eleanor Powell’s home for three years. During this time they began feeding Ted a lie — one he wouldn’t know the truth of for many years — primarily due to social stigma and old-fashioned beliefs. The trio of adults agreed to make everyone believe Ted had been born to Samuel and Eleanor, and that his mother Louise was his older sister. These lies would go on until Ted reached his college years; the rage of being lied to for so long may have contributed to developing his psychopathic disorders.

Within the Powell household, Samuel was an abusive tyrant. In spite of initial claims that Ted had been close and looked up to the man, his family would later admit the grandparent had been extremely violent, bigoted, and regularly spoke to himself. Bullying at home was so powerful that Eleanor aged into a depressive, withdrawn old woman who required periodical electroconvulsive therapy to treat her mental state.

Young Theodore watched this all through confused, infant eyes and it definitely affected him. At one point, he surrounded his aunt, Julia, with kitchen knives, while she was sleeping. Then he stood by her with a grin until she awoke. While this is disturbing behavior for any child, the fact that Ted was only three-years-old when it occurred, made it that more disturbing.

When Ted was four, Louise decided to move to Tacoma, Washington, where her cousins, Alan and Jane Scott lived. This would be where Ted’s young life would develop and his first run-ins with the law would occur; although they were minor offenses and showed no sign of a soon-to-be serial rapist and killer.

A year after the move to Washington, Louise met a hospital cook at church and they instantly fell for each other. The man, Johnny Culpepper Bundy, formally adopted Ted as his son, soon going on to have four children with Louise. Ted was always distant, feeling uncomfortable around Johnny and the children, and would state later in life that he had never liked him.
Ted’s own recollections of his teenage life were memories of reading crime novels and magazines for stories and scenes that included sexual violence and maimed bodies, as well as peeping in women’s bedroom windows. Ted’s mother would later claim that he was an excellent son who never forgot a special occasion to gift her with something; he often spoke of his dream to be a policeman or a lawyer. Classmates also remembered Ted as a friendly, well-known student, yet Bundy claimed to biographers he had never grasped the concept of friendship.

Ted Bundy’s behavior soon showed sociopathic signs and a general disregard for the law. Breaking into cars, Ted would steal objects he found inside with the intent of selling them. He was also quite skilled at shoplifting, taking advantage of it to support his skiing hobby. Ted was arrested, at least twice as a minor, however, the details of the incidents were expunged from his record as soon as he reached the age of 18.

Ted was done with high school by 1965 and began studying at the University of Puget Sound. He did not like it there because his classmates were all from wealthy backgrounds and it made him feel inferior. After a year, he transferred to the University of Washington, where he studied Chinese. At the same time, he looked for simple, minimum wage jobs; he never lasted longer than a few months at a time. Whether it was working as a grocery bagger, shelf-stocker, or volunteer at a Seattle suicide hotline, his superiors remembered him as an unreliable and untrustworthy young man. Ted also volunteered in political activities for the Republican Party, such as Nelson Rockefeller’s presidential campaign of 1968.

It was around this time that Ted met the woman that would perhaps become the most pivotal of his life; even more so than any of his unfortunate victims. Although he had never been a model boy, things were about to turn a lot uglier in Ted’s young life.

The Grudge

Ted had a problem that had been tormenting him all his life.

He always wanted to be just like those wealthy, happy young men he had studied with at both universities. Part of that was finding a beautiful girlfriend he could parade around, who would give him the support he craved. Ted finally found her in the spring of 1967; a beautiful young woman named Stephanie Brooks. She was pretty, rich, smart, and had a lot of class, just like the women he had observed longingly at the university. Just like Ted, Stephanie studied at the University of Washington. She also loved him a lot.

Ted was truly happy around Stephanie; he envisioned a future where the two could be married and grow old together. However, while he was imaging these things, Stephanie was growing increasingly uncomfortable with her boyfriend’s lack of ambition in life. He did not seem to be on the path to success. Her parents also appeared to dislike her partner, and this may have been an influence on the decision she took next.

When Stephanie told Ted of her decision to break up with him, he was in shock. It was a slap in the face for someone he had been trying so hard to impress and find a way to be like the rich boys he had envied. Despite many letters and attempts at recovering the relationship, Ted was unable to accomplish anything and it got to him. He entered a depressive stage, filled with rage and confusion, which led to dark thoughts.

Ted’s heart was broken, and he began to harbor a deep hatred towards women — most of the victims whose lives he took were women that looked very similar to Stephanie: Caucasian, dark-haired, and beautiful.

It was around this time, in early 1969, that Bundy traveled east and visited several relatives in Arkansas and Philadelphia. He went in search of his origins and discovered birth records in Burlington, Vermont, revealing the true details of his birth and parentage. This did not help his state of mind, furthering his anger towards the world.
He returned to Washington later that same year and met Elizabeth Kloepfer — known as Meg Anders in some documentation. She was a divorcée and single mother from Ogden, Utah, working as a secretary at the university. Elizabeth became Ted’s next girlfriend, though he was not faithful to her. Ted’s life was about to take a change for the better…at least for now.

Back in Washington, Ted felt he had a chance to try again and he re-enrolled at the university, this time studying Psychology. His grades were excellent; he also had a good relationship with his professors and became friends with many people in various positions. One of those people was a writer named Ann Rule. She would go on to write one of Bundy’s most well-known biographies, The Stranger Beside Me. Even though Ann believed Ted to be a sadistic sociopath, she took somewhat of a human, defensive stance on him. During this time, Ted also became interested in fulfilling his childhood wish of studying law and began to think of a school where he could study to become a lawyer.

Describing Ted’s sexual habits, Meg Anders stated Ted was insistent on practicing sadomasochistic sexual intercourse with her, almost strangling her to unconsciousness, on one occasion, despite her pleas for him to stop. He also requested she remains completely still when they had sex; not making a single sound as if she was a corpse. Only in this manner could Ted reach orgasm.
Bundy graduated in 1972 and immediately joined Governor Daniel J. Evans’ re-election campaign. He had started sending admission requests to begin his studies at several law schools, and some were considering giving him a chance. Ted stated that in his eyes, the law was the answer to his search for order. During his time working for Governor Evans, he followed Evans’ opponent Albert Rosellini around, recording his speeches for analysis. Evans was successfully re-elected and Bundy caught the attention of Ross Davis, Chairman of the Washington State Republican Party. The chairman liked Ted and the way he worked, and he helped him with recommendations. These ended up helping Ted get accepted by both University of Puget Sound, and University of Utah’s law schools in early 1973, despite that he had not done well in the admission tests. He would decide on University of Puget Sound law school the following year.
Ted Bundy was on the rise. His success was spreading and he was showing signs of being a truly heroic citizen — on one occasion he saved a three-year-old child from drowning and was rewarded with a medal by the city’s police department. On another occasion he was involved in performing a citizen’s arrest on a thief who attempted to steal a person’s bag. Bundy recovered the bag and gave it back to its rightful owner — an act that did not go unnoticed. On a revisit to the University of Washington’s campus, Ted came across his friends and professors; everyone had something positive to say about him. His newfound security and position in society were highly respected by his peers and teachers, and they now had a far different — and better — image of him, than before.

Despite all the success and good news, Ted would get another chance to feel triumphant.
One of Ted’s business trips in the summer of 1973 took him to California, where he met up with Stephanie Brooks; at this point, he was still in a relationship with Meg Anders. Stephanie was shocked by Ted’s transformation — he had gone from a man with no ambition and little vision to a successful politician, graduate, and now a law student. He was everything she had wished for in a man, and this made her re-start their relationship once more, primarily due to the fact that she did not know he was already with somebody else. Stephanie flew to Seattle to stay with him a few times, and Bundy even introduced her to his boss, Ross Davis, as his fiancée. They discussed marriage during this period, and Brooks was over the moon.

But it was all for nothing.

In January 1974, only a few months later, Ted stopped answering her calls and ignored her letters. He did not visit her anymore, nor did he seem interested in continuing a relationship with her. When she finally got a hold of him a month later and asked him why he had distanced himself without any explanation, he told her he had no idea what she meant and hung up. She never heard from him again.
Ted had achieved vengeance for her earlier breakup, and proved that he could have been her husband; the husband that she had always wanted.
Ted Bundy would not be satisfied with what he had done to get his revenge on Stephanie. For some reason, it just was not enough. Perhaps he should have just let it all go — acknowledge things do not always go the way one wants them to go, and had taught Stephanie a lesson for rejecting him. Perhaps his inferiority complex had come back with added poison and started to eat at him and fill him with doubts. It is possible Ted simply wanted to hurt someone for the bad things that had happened to him.

Ted was about to pursue a new career; one much darker than any previous.
The rapes and murders were about to begin, and once they began nobody could stop them…
…At least not until it was too late.

 

Something Finally Snaps

It had been a good period for Ted. One that had given him hope, showing him he was somebody worth a damn and could make a difference in the world. He had given his life a massive turn for the better, and rubbing shoulders with some pretty influential men and women.

Curiously, Ted’s participation in the Republican Party would bring him close to Rosalynn Carter, President Jimmy Carter’s wife, who in turn would have the strange misfortune of meeting John Wayne ‘Killer Clown’ Gacy and James ‘Jim’ Warren Jones; both infamous killers who were as scary as the protagonist of this biography.

Ted was troubled and spiteful towards women, with a strong fetish towards hardcore pornography involving rape, torture, and snuff. Speculation was he had acquired the taste for it from his grandfather, Samuel, who was believed to collect pornographic material of extremely violent content. This would define Ted, in spite of doing well in other aspects of his life.

The exact date and location of Bundy’s first murder have never been confirmed, due to the fact that he has provided biographers and investigators with many different and conflicting accounts of his acts during the period of his first murder.
To this day, details are still not clear. Ted once confessed to a member of his defense team, Polly Nelson, whose career would arguably be destroyed by defending the monster that was Ted Bundy that he first attempted to kidnap a victim in 1969, on a visit to Ocean City, New Jersey. He also told her he committed his first murder in 1971. However, he also told a psychologist he had killed two women in 1969 in Atlantic City but also confessed to a homicide detective that he had first murdered in Seattle, in 1972, before taking another life in Washington, in 1973. The facts got even more confusing when evidence was found linking Ted to the 1961 abduction and murder of an 8-year-old in Tacoma; at fourteen years of age, but denied any link to this crime.

The truth is that while Ted Bundy’s official murder/rape records may have started in January 1974, with his first sexual assault and attempted murder, his taste for causing pain started slowly and with small but telling signs manifesting themselves a few years before then.

In 1972, a woman recalled having sex with him during a one-night stand, in which Ted choked her almost into unconsciousness until he reached orgasm. When she confronted him on why he had done it, he feigned ignorance. He confessed regularly practicing the same act on other women, and that it would help him enter a new state of mind, giving him great pleasure.
Shortly after this event, Bundy stalked an attractive woman at a bar and followed her into a dark alley. There, he found a large plank of wood and advanced past her, expecting the woman to pass through a secluded area where he would ambush her. Nevertheless, the plan failed when the woman entered a nearby home. This attempted assault whetted his appetite for a future attack. He began to stalk other women in the hopes of getting a chance to rape and murder them.

Ted’s first true attack occurred when he approached one of his stalking victims undetected, to the point he was literally just behind her. He carried a club and his victim was distracted opening the front door to her home. Pouncing on her, Ted smacked her with the club, causing her to fall to the ground and scream in terror; at the last minute he had second thoughts and fled the scene.

Ted was learning, perfecting his abilities and honing the necessary skills he would use in the future. He had mastered the skills required to leave as little incriminating evidence at a crime scene as possible, as well as beginning to find ways to earn the trust of his victims. Everything was a soft set of practice attacks, eventually leading to the big moment of his first sexual assault.

It took place on the 4th of January, 1974.
Karen Sparks was an 18-year-old dancer, who studied at the University of Washington. She lived alone in a basement apartment in Washington, and never would have imagined what was going to happen to her on that cold night; this would literally ruin her life forever.

Ted had been stalking Karen and observed her movements that night, realizing she was all alone and sleeping. Shortly after midnight, he broke into the apartment through a window, without waking her, and found her asleep. Her young, scantily-clad form must have driven him crazy with lust, for what he did next was horrific — he wrenched a metal rod from Karen’s bed frame and used it to bludgeon her into unconsciousness, repeatedly slamming it into her skull without mercy. When she had been knocked senseless, he took the same bloody rod and shoved it into her vagina, brutally assaulting her with the rod, causing extensive internal damage. Leaving her for dead, Ted disappeared into the night, but Karen survived; found lying in a pool of her blood the next day. She entered a coma that would last several months. She would go on to survive the ordeal, but with permanent brain damage.

Bundy did not wait long for his next attack, either — this new assault ended in the death of his victim. It left such a mark on his mind, Bundy needed a period of recuperation.

In the early morning hours of February 1st, Bundy targeted a similar victim to the previous one; Lynda Ann Healy, a beautiful 21-year-old Psychology student at the University of Washington, who worked with special-needs children. She also worked at a local radio station giving ski reports. Lynda had actually attended psychology classes with Bundy. She did not live alone, sharing her cozy 5517 Northeast 12th street residence with four other women. Unfortunately, this fact did nothing to stop what happened to her. Lynda slept in the basement, while her best friend slept in the room beside her. The other three women slept on the floors above; all of the girls were quite close to one another.

The night before the attack, Ellie — Lynda’s best friend and roommate — thought she saw a shadow move past the window on the side of the house. Although it put her on edge, she thought nothing more of it after noticing how the strong wind was pulling at the tree branches outside. The truth would never be known. In all likelihood, it was Ted Bundy, already planning what would take place the next morning.

It was a swift, ruthless attack. In spite of the girls’ security awareness, one of the house doors had been left unlocked. This costly error allowed Bundy entry into the house, and he descended to the basement. The noise of his victim could be muffled by walls and ceilings. Unfortunately, his crime was a complete success. Lynda did not even realize Bundy was in the room and suffered a heavy blow, knocking her out with no chance to resist. Bundy then gagged her and removed her nightgown, taking a moment to dress her in jeans, a white blouse, and shoes.

Never directly admitting to killing Lynda, Bundy only hinted at what he would have done if he had abducted her — but it is believed he took Lynda to his home and kept her there, continuously raping and hurting her until she either died or he decided to kill her. Meanwhile, back at Lynda’s home, three of the girls had early classes or jobs and had already left the residence. Ellie awoke to the sound of the phone ringing. It was Lynda’s boss, asking why Lynda had not shown up for her daily report. This seemed very strange to Ellie; Lynda had mentioned meeting an ex-boyfriend that weekend, but she was always responsible for her job and classes. Ultimately, Ellie decided to continue getting ready for class and for a few hours forgot about her roommate’s strange disappearance.

By nightfall, the girls would learn more information — a missing person report had been filed and two officers had visited the home to check for any suspicious signs, without success. However, lifting Lynda’s bedsheets, one of her roommates found a large stain of dried blood on the pillow and mattress. A careful search of the room also revealed: a bloodstained nightgown and the discovery of missing clothes. The details began to reveal a story about what had taken place; someone made their way into the house, attacked Lynda and carried her off.

The police, accompanied by Lynda’s roommates and friends, fanned out to search for Lynda across the city and surrounding areas, as well as questioning neighbors for any eyewitnesses. Both the searches and the questionings yielded nothing, and the girls of 5517 Northeast 12th street slowly lost hope in finding her again. It would not be until 1975, when Lynda’s skull was discovered in a wooded location west of Seattle, resting in the dirt alongside the remains of five other victims, that Lynda’s fate was revealed.

At first, the abduction of Lynda Healy was not associated with the work of a serial killer, but as more women began to disappear in the area, the general climate of terror started to grow.
Unfortunately, Ted Bundy was just getting started.

Unleash the Beast

The brutal rape of young Karen Sparks and the murder of Lynda Ann Healy set off something within Ted Bundy’s mind that would be difficult to stop; it was a hunger that would never be satisfied and a thirst which would never be sated. The demon within Ted Bundy’s heart was fully awake, and only death would bring it to heel.
The rumors soon began: a killer was out there — a man who hunted young female students, doing horrible things to them. Ted would become the scourge of the city of Washington, and labeled the Campus Killer.

But not yet, however. For now, Ted Bundy’s name was not even whispered in the dark. He was still the nice, charming man who had majored in Psychology and begun law school. Bundy stopped attending entirely in 1974 and worked alongside some of the biggest Republicans in the business. Ted remained a nice guy — nobody ever imagining he could turn out to be one of the most despicable American serial killers to have ever lived.

At this point in time, Bundy was no longer interested in home invasions and killing his victims where they lived. His modus operandi was evolving — he found it easier and smarter to take his victims away from lonely areas on the streets of the city, where he would not have to worry about witnesses, spotting him breaking-in or leaving victims’ homes.

It was in this manner, another woman disappeared on March 12th. Donna Gail Manson, a 19-year-old student at the Evergreen State College in Olympia, disappeared without a trace. She set off one night on foot to attend a campus jazz concert but never arrived.

A month later, two female students from the same campus reported the suspicious presence of a man wearing an arm sling, on one occasion, and on another occasion using crutches. He asked the girls for help putting a pile of books in his vehicle — a Volkswagen Beetle. Both attempts failed when the women became suspicious after he insisted they enter the car. Ted quickly left. The arm sling and other similar tricks rapidly became Bundy’s best bet at capturing his victims; he worked on their pity and generosity to lure them, and then they were his.
Unfortunately, Ted’s trick worked on Biology student Susan Rancourt, who was heading back to her dorm from an advisers’ meeting at Central Washington State College; now Central Washington University. Bundy savagely hit her with a blunt object, proceeding to kidnap, rape, and murder her, then discarding her body alongside Lynda Healy’s on a wooded incline.

On the 6th of May, just three weeks later and 260 miles away from his hometown, Ted Bundy murdered once more. Roberta Kathleen Parks, a student of Religious Studies at Oregon State University, left her dormitory to go have a coffee with her best friends in the nearby College Union Building. However, she never arrived at her destination. Bundy approached and lured Roberta into his car, quickly driving further from the college and terrifying her into doing whatever he wanted. Stopping in a secluded area, Ted raped Roberta, returning afterward to Seattle, raping her again before murdering her and discarding her body.
The abduction of Roberta really put law enforcement on edge. Both the King’s County Sheriff’s Office and the Seattle Police Department began to increase efforts to find links and evidence that could lead them to the killer. All of the young women shared certain characteristics; they were all young, white, attractive college students with long hair, typically brunette, and parted in the middle. Rewards were offered for any information on the missing women, eyewitnesses encouraged to come forward and provide their recollections.

May turned into June, and with it came yet another victim. Bundy was no fool; he had followed the terror in the media and the details of the police investigation taking place in an attempt to stop him. By now, he knew people were keeping an eye out for a man asking for help or otherwise approaching women on the street. Therefore, he decided to slightly change his modus operandi and sate his bloodlust with someone willingly becoming his victim, without the trouble of having to kidnap her. His next murder would differ significantly in the way it took place, and Ted confessed he enjoyed it a lot.
Brenda Ball, a beautiful 23-year-old woman, went alone to the Flame Tavern in the working-class neighborhood of Burien, Washington. She told friends she was going to try getting a ride to Sun Lakes, on the east side of the state, to meet them later and hang out. Yet, after asking a band member for a ride to the club, she might not be so lucky. All alone and with no way to get out to the club, a man approached and began to speak with her. With a sling on his arm and a charming smile on his face, Ted offered to take her home but invited her to a party beforehand, for which she accepted. One thing led to another, and the two had consensual sex — with Bundy unsuccessfully attempting to satisfy his extreme desires. Sadly, not long after, the demon within him whispered enticing words and Ted Bundy acted. He served Brenda enough alcohol to knock her into a state of stupor, raped her, finally strangling her to death.
After Brenda was dead, Bundy kept her body in his apartment for several days, constantly switching her from his bed to his wardrobe and vice-versa. He stated he no longer felt the urgency of getting rid of the body since he was in a private place; he had taken Brenda there without worrying about eyewitnesses spotting suspicious behavior. While at his home, Brenda’s body was bathed and make-up applied to her face, before Ted finally tired of it and decapitated her. Her skull and mandible were found in the area around Taylor Mountain, Seattle. Her body’s location was never discovered.

Only two weeks later, on the night of June 11, 1974, Bundy returned to abduct another University of Washington victim from the campus. This time, Georgeann Hawkins, a popular and friendly 18-year-old student, avid swimmer and one who loved posing in front of a camera, was Bundy’s choice. Georgeann had just said goodbye to her boyfriend at his dorm and began walking back to her own sorority house. A few hundred feet of brightly-lit alley separating both places was enough for Bundy to strike. As soon as the worried call from the sorority sisters arrived at Georgeann’s parents’ home, they knew their daughter was in trouble. She had no reason to run away and her relationship with friends was healthy.

Georgeann’s body was never found, despite detectives carefully combing the alley the next morning. Eyewitnesses who were questioned afterward recalled seeing a man with a plastered leg and crutches in the area, struggling to carry a briefcase. Additionally, they claimed a woman helped him carry the case to his car; a light brown Volkswagen Beetle. Though she had not realized it, Georgeann had been in the presence of a serial killer.

Bundy returned to work as if nothing happened. He had found a job at the Washington State Department of Emergency Services in Olympia. Curiously, this agency was involved in the search of the missing women. Working there helped him keep an eye on what information law enforcement was gathering. While there, he met Carole Ann Boone, a divorced mother of two that would begin a relationship with Bundy in the future.

When links from the cases began to crisscross and meet, news about Bundy’s crimes spread like wildfire — six women of similar characteristics missing, while another had been beaten savagely and raped. The states of Washington and Oregon were terrified of the crime; young women stopped hitch-hiking, or going to bars or other night-time activities. Law enforcement agencies had a real problem on their hands; the killer was smart enough to avoid leaving any physical evidence behind from the abductions, and forthcoming eyewitnesses provided little in terms of useful information.
Nonetheless, a certain pattern was definitely evolving. A sequence of details began creating a level of confidence among law enforcement officers, raising the hopes they had a chance of narrowing down their suspects and perhaps even capturing the man behind all this craziness. The women were all assaulted or taken at night, typically around construction sites and around the time of mid-term or final exams. Further, at most scenes, eyewitnesses had spotted a man wearing a cast or sling, and driving a brown or tan Volkswagen Beetle. It was just a matter of looking for the car, or having officers at the right place at the right moment — surely it should not be so difficult to catch the killer.

But unfortunately, things would not go as planned for law enforcement or for anyone who had expected to stop Ted Bundy. Women were still disappearing.

If anything, Ted Bundy had only just begun his spree. Soon, the police learned how big a mistake it was to underestimate Theodore Bundy.

Check out the rest of Ted’s story on Amazon for Free

The post Ted Bundy: America’s Most Wicked Serial Killer appeared first on Ryan Becker True Crime Books.

The following is the first 4 chapters of my book “Jeffrey Dahmer: The Gruesome True Story of a Hungry Cannibalistic Rapist and Necrophiliac Serial Killer”

The Loss of Innocence

Jeffrey could have become whatever he wished, but he chose to become a killer. And not just any killer.

One of the worst killers the world has ever seen .

Our story begins on the 21st of November 1960.  Jeffrey Lionel Dahmer was born in West Allis, Wisconsin, to Joyce Annette and Lionel Herbert Dahmer. Joyce was a teletype machine instructor, while Lionel studied analytical chemistry at Marquette University.

As a baby, Jeffrey received all the attention a child could wish for; his parents took good care of him. However, as the years passed and their marriage became tense, they began to neglect him somewhat. The marriage was not peaceful, due in part to Joyce’s personality. She was the type of person who continuously demanded attention, even going as far as faking sickness to get it. It didn’t help that Lionel was very busy with his studies and spent extended periods of time away from home, only to return to find his wife pretending to have a nervous breakdown.

Despite initially being a happy and playful child, this suddenly changed after Jeffery underwent a double hernia surgery at the age of six. He began to become more quiet and subdued. In school, Jeffrey was considered to be a quiet and shy boy who showed signs of neglect, but who had fortunately managed to make some friends.  There are claims that a neighbor molested him at some point in his younger years, but no one has confirmed these allegations. Dahmer himself would later recall having been present on several occasions when his parents argued. These scenes were upsetting for a growing child. Fortunately, Dahmer’s parents’ love for him didn’t change at any point.

As a young boy, Jeff fell completely in love with animals. The family had a pet dog, and, at one point, they helped nurse a bird back to health from an injury. Lionel would later recall that Jeffrey watched the bird fly away back into the wild with ‘wide, gleaming eyes’ and that it had probably been the happiest moment in his life.

Shortly after, Jeffrey came upon his father sweeping some animal bones out from under their home. The child felt intensely curious when he saw the body parts and asked his father what they were. Lionel noticed that when young Jeffrey heard the crunching noises the bones made, he seemed to be oddly thrilled and requested to touch them himself. The chemist would later come to understand that this was the very first sign of what his son would eventually become.

In 1966, Lionel graduated and found a job as a research chemist. Unfortunately for the family, it would require them to uproot and move to Akron, Ohio. Joyce was pregnant with their second son, David. Her pregnancy was a troublesome one, which made her weak and prone to sickness. Jeffrey, now seven, gradually received less and less attention, and he began to lose his self-confidence and all remnants of his previously bubbly nature. Soon, he was even afraid of the idea of starting a new school. His father tried not to worry, hoping Jeffrey just hadn’t adapted to his new home yet. In reality, it was far more than that.

After buying and moving into a new home in April 1967, the young Dahmer seemed to begin to get used to his new life, and even found a new friend named Lee. Jeffrey also grew close to a female teacher, who he eventually gifted a bowl of tadpoles that he had caught on his own. Later, he would find out that his teacher had given the bowl to Lee instead. This event angered Jeffrey and led him to sneak into the boy’s garage and poison the animals’ water with motor oil, killing all of them.

This occasion wasn’t the last time Jeffrey came into contact with dead animals.

The young Dahmer was fascinated with hunting his neighborhood for the corpses of critters. He often took them home and dissected them, sometimes getting rid of the bones in the woods near his home to avoid raising suspicion. When he went out fishing with his father, Jeff’s favorite part of the activity was cutting open the fish and gutting them. Nobody paid any attention to this proclivity.

One night, during a family dinner, Jeff asked his father what would happen if he put the chicken bones left on their table in a bleach solution. His father was pleasantly surprised by the child’s curiosity and decided to teach him how to bleach animal bones, safely and correctly. There was no harm in it, his father thought. After all, it was merely a childish curiosity. His father was perhaps even relieved by Jeffrey’s request because he had shown such little interest in other hobbies to that point.

If someone had known what was really happening, however, Dahmer’s story may have ended very differently.

Jeffrey wasn’t just inspecting the insides of animal corpses and preserving their bones for science.

He was getting ready for something much worse.

 

An Odd Young Man

Jeffrey’s high school years arrived, and he began to grow in stature. He became a tall, awkward youth who shifted from random silent, shy states to extroverted ones. He developed a penchant for playing crude practical jokes when he was drunk, a habit that would continue throughout the years up to his death. Classmates stated that the teenage Dahmer would arrive to class looking disheveled and with a can or two of beer in his bag to consume during class while the teacher was talking. A curious classmate once asked him why he continuously drank during class, to which Dahmer responded: “It’s my medicine.”

His jokes were cruel. He often mimicked his mother’s interior designer, who had cerebral palsy, to the enjoyment of many of his peers. Other times he would paint chalk outlines in the halls of his school, reminiscent of those found at crime scenes once law enforcement had removed the body.

He was considered to be very intelligent and polite but regularly received average grades due to his extreme apathy and lack of interest in studying or reading. His parents hired a private tutor, but nothing changed. Dahmer wasn’t willing to make an effort, and there was only so much the tutor could do for him.

It was around this age that Dahmer discovered two important things that would define him as a human being and mold him into what he’d later become.

The first was that he was gay. He first noticed it as a small attraction towards other men, but even in these early stages of realization, Dahmer kept it from his parents. He had a brief relationship with another boy, but it didn’t get very far.

Then he had a second, separate realization. He began to fantasize about dominating another male: taking complete control and doing whatever he wished to the potential partner, without their consent.

He wanted to hurt somebody, to make sexual use of them, and perhaps kill and dissect them in the process. The limits of sex and dissection began to blur, as Dahmer included one within the other in his fantasies. His desire for violence became so overwhelming that he began to make plans for his first victim.

The idea that would spark his killer instinct finally came to him: on several occasions, he had spotted a male jogger who he found attractive. He knew that the man’s route passed by a section of thick bushes. Dahmer had the perfect place to hide, as well as the perfect opportunity to take advantage of his victim if he could successfully render him unconscious. One day, Dahmer decided to make his fantasy come true. Armed with a baseball bat, he went to the bushes and lay in wait, patiently expecting the jogger. To the man’s extreme good fortune, he didn’t jog that route on that particular day, and Dahmer decided to give up on his fantasy. If the would-be victim had passed through the bushy area, Dahmer almost certainly would have followed through with his plan.

In the Dahmer household, Lionel and Joyce’s marriage was getting worse. The couple had less and less patience for each other. Arguments were becoming an even more regular event, and Jeffrey was having a hard time seeing them fight. His alcoholism became worse than before, and he became more despondent as time passed.

His terrible and secret habit of dissecting animals and skinning them became the only thing that moved Jeffrey and gave him any motivation. His parents and other grown-ups watched on as his peers spoke of dreams, careers, and plans while Dahmer sunk further into apathy and purposelessness. He was more comfortable lying on his bed alone in his room than making an effort in his studies or looking for a job. At this point, even interacting with other people had become a challenge for him.

Even worse, nobody could quite see what Jeffrey was truly harboring on the inside because of his guarded and closed nature. He didn’t argue with anyone, never got involved in his parents’ increasingly common fights, and kept his strange habits secret enough for everyone to find him merely weird and not actually troubled or sick.

When Jeff was almost eighteen, his parents finally gave up on their marriage and got divorced. Where Joyce had been a self-centered woman with barely any attention for Jeffrey, Lionel’s new fiancée, Shari, was more attentive toward the boy. She recommended that Jeffrey start college after high school, and Lionel agreed.

It looked like the young man was going to turn over a new leaf. He seemed as though he might get an education that could help him progress as a human being. Jeffrey had a chance to start over and become a regular person despite his awkward teenage years and childhood.

Unfortunately, Jeffrey’s fate was about to darken. He was about to let loose the demon that inhabited his mind on the world. He was about to become the killer the world would remember. The construction of a horrific legacy was about to begin.

A Taste of Blood

Jeffrey graduated from high school in the summer of 1978. He was now 18 years old. Lionel Dahmer had gone on a business trip with his new wife, while Jeffrey’s mother, Joyce, and younger brother, David, had relocated to Wisconsin. Jeffrey was left alone at home with his thoughts and desires. It was just a matter of time before he acted on them.

It wouldn’t take long.

Just three weeks after graduating, with nobody around to supervise him or give him a moment of pause before making a rash decision that he’d never be able to take back, Jeffrey Dahmer took his first life.

Eighteen-year-old Steven Mark Hicks was his victim. Dahmer had thought of picking up a male hitchhiker and killing him before, but now he had the freedom to do so. As it happened, Hicks pulled his car over while Dahmer was out looking for someone to fulfill his fantasies with, and the would-be killer eagerly stopped and picked the young man up.

They exchanged a few words, and the young Dahmer invited Hicks to his home for some beers. Steven agreed; he was unaware that Dahmer wanted to have forceful sex with him as well.

The two arrived at Dahmer’s home. He pulled some alcohol out of the fridge, put some rock music on the radio and began enjoying Hicks’ company.

However, at some point in the conversation, Dahmer realized that Steven was not gay like himself. There was an awkward exchange, and Steven said that he wanted to go home. Dahmer thought he’d heard wrong. Go home? Why would his victim want to go home? This request was awkward for Dahmer; after all, he’d had so many things in mind for when night fell. Hicks was about to ruin it all by leaving.

Something snapped in Dahmer’s mind. He approached Steven, who was sitting down, from behind. Dahmer held a 10 lb. dumbbell in his hand. Hicks had no time to react as Dahmer slammed the heavy object into his head twice, knocking him unconscious. The bludgeoning wasn’t the end of the attack, however. Dahmer knelt over Steven’s body and strangled him to death with the bar of his rudimentary weapon. He then stripped the fresh corpse of its clothes and masturbated over it with sick pleasure.

Jeffrey Dahmer had finally acted on his fantasies, and the sensations felt strange. Part of him wanted to weep over what he’d done, but another part was glad that he’d finally followed through on years of fantasies. It was a mix of emotions, but Dahmer wasn’t in a hurry to kill again. Yet.

The next day, Dahmer was finally able to put into practice what he’d been learning for years — he dragged the body downstairs to a crawl space, dissected it, and buried the remains in a shallow grave in his backyard. Several weeks later, he would exhume the body parts, remove the flesh from the bones, then dissolve it in acid and flush the remaining solution down the toilet.

Six weeks later, Lionel and Shari returned home. They found Jeffrey home alone and not doing anything productive with his life. He agreed to enroll at the Ohio State University, with hopes of majoring in business.

Initially, his father had high hopes for his son. However, Dahmer immediately proved that he was not going to stop abusing alcohol anytime soon. He didn’t accomplish anything at the University and couldn’t even get through the first term before quitting. Within three months, Dahmer had already dropped out and was back to slouching around at home.

His father was having none of it. If Jeffrey wasn’t going to study, there was space in the Army for him. So Jeffrey Dahmer enlisted in the U.S. Army just a few months later, in January 1979. He trained to become a medical specialist at Fort Sam Houston. He was considered an effective soldier and was stationed in Baumholder, West Germany a few months later. Once there, Dahmer fulfilled the role of a combat medic. It wasn’t the best position for him since he couldn’t stand looking at blood (a strange detail that psychologists would later explain as guilt over Steven Hick’s murder), but Dahmer tried his best to perform.

While the army officially recorded his performance as a soldier as being “average or above average,” there were some ugly rumors about Dahmer that, in retrospect, chill the blood. In 2010, one soldier said that Dahmer had repeatedly raped him during a 17-month period, while another stated that he had been drugged and raped by Dahmer within the confines of an armored vehicle in 1979.

Alcoholism and loneliness continued to drag Dahmer down, and he was eventually declared unfit for service. The army formally and honorably discharged him in March 1981. Not long after, the army sent Dahmer to Fort Jackson for debriefing. As part of his release from service, the military subsequently provided Dahmer with a ticket to a destination of his choice, anywhere in the country.

Deciding where to go was tough for Dahmer. Ultimately, he felt that he had disappointed his father too much to return to Ohio. He didn’t want to go back there with his tail between his legs. Instead, he chose to travel to Miami Beach, Florida, where he began to work hard to live by his own means. He got a job at a sandwich place. Nobody could have guessed that the tall young man preparing their lunch was a killer who would soon go on to become legendary among murderers.

Dahmer’s alcoholism was ever-present, and despite having a stable job, he found himself unable to keep up with his responsibilities. His landlord evicted him for missing rent payments. The young man knew he only had one person to run to and soon called his father to ask if he could return to live with him in Ohio. Lionel accepted.

Coming home was a source of simultaneous comfort and discomfort for Dahmer. His return allowed him to walk around familiar territory, but also reminded him of what he had done to Steven Hicks. He hadn’t been able to get over it yet, and one detail nagged at him, causing him to worry about getting caught. As soon as he had the chance to be home alone, Dahmer unearthed the bones he’d buried in his father’s backyard and took a sledgehammer to them, pulverizing the body parts completely and then scattering them in the woodlands behind the family home.

As he disposed of the bones, Dahmer hoped that his murder experiment had ended and that he would recover from his fantasies. Unfortunately for both him and his victims, he had only temporarily quashed these dreams of control, pain, and murder.

In fact, they could all come flooding back at any moment…

No Escaping Who You Are

Only three weeks after having returned to Ohio, in October 1981, Jeffrey screwed up again, frustrating his father and stepmother tenfold. He drank too much and got arrested for drunken and disorderly conduct. Lionel was not as forgiving as on previous occasions. He and his wife decided that Jeffrey had to go somewhere where he could start over for real. While Jeff had mostly been a cold, quiet boy during his life, he had shown to carry affection for his grandmother, Lionel’s mother. Lionel hoped that Jeffrey could start over at her home in West Allis, Wisconsin. He thought a change of scenery could help Jeffrey to become more responsible and mature.

Upon moving to West Allis, Jeffrey Dahmer immediately adapted to a new, calmer life than the one he’d had in both Ohio and Florida. His grandmother paid more attention to his behavior than his parents ever had. He accompanied her to many activities and helped her out with a variety of chores . His only trouble in obeying his grandmother came when it came to quitting alcohol, but his professional life took a general turn for the better. He even found a decent job at a blood plasma center, where he helped collect blood from donors.

Meanwhile, however, Dahmer’s personal life continued to decline. His behavior became increasingly stranger, and his grandmother was worried. At one point, she entered the young man’s room and was shocked to find a fully-dressed male mannequin inside his closet, which he’d used as a sex toy of some kind, as well as a .357 Magnum under his bed. The elderly woman wasn’t sure if he was capable of using the firearm, but Dahmer had never shown her his violent side. She would eventually ask Dahmer to throw it away.

In 1982, the following year, Dahmer was arrested for indecent exposure in front of a crowd of over 25 women and children. He was convicted and fined $50 plus court costs. Lionel was always there to pay for whatever costs were generated by Dahmer’s mistakes. Time and again he crossed his fingers, hoping that his son would change his ways. This undying hope became a recurring pattern that Lionel repeated even after Jeffrey was caught. He had a warm heart when it came to his son, despite the constant disappointments.

In January 1985, Dahmer gained employment as a mixer at the Milwaukee Ambrosia Chocolate Factory, where he worked eight hours (at $9 per hour), six nights a week. He enjoyed the job and the freedom that came with it. Around this time, he visited the West Allis Public Library and spent some of his time off reading books and newspaper articles.

His fantasies were reignited there.

While at the library one day, shortly after he had started work at the chocolate factory, a man walked past Dahmer and lay down a note on his table, offering to perform fellatio on Dahmer. Despite the fact that Dahmer avoided answering the man’s note, it aroused him. He recalled the fantasies that had lain dormant in his mind, those of control and dominance that he’d wanted to practice for so long. Consequently, Dahmer soon started to actively seek out sexual partners at gay bars, bookstores, and bathhouses in the area, trying to find men interested in fulfilling his desires. He ultimately preferred the bathhouses for their added privacy, increased intimacy, and the relaxing atmosphere that surrounded them.

Dahmer used the bathhouses to find consensual sexual partners at first, but soon he began to feel uncomfortable and frustrated with the fact that his lovers moved and made noises while he was pleasuring them. As has already been stated, Dahmer required total control and dominance, and his acts of sexual intercourse were no different. To Jeffrey, other men were simply objects of pleasure, not people. He soon thought of ways he could reduce the influence that a partner had during sex and began to purchase sleeping pills.

Dahmer engaged in consensual acts of intercourse until June 1986, when his curiosity overwhelmed him, and he began to drug his victims by lacing their beverages with sedatives. He then took advantage of their bodies, raping them with no regard for their comfort or consent. This pattern occurred a dozen times until the bathhouse’s administration grew wary of him and revoked his membership. They barred Dahmer from entering the bathhouse again. However, those in charge didn’t press charges, so Jeff Dahmer simply walked away from his violent crimes without consequence.

Around this time, Dahmer read in the newspaper about the funeral of an 18-year-old male, who had recently died and been buried. He saw the boy’s picture and imagined himself raping the corpse, which aroused him. He visited the grave one night with a spade and began to dig, but found the soil too hard to penetrate and decided to abort his plan.

That same year, police arrested Dahmer again for indecent exposure. He was caught masturbating in front of two boys in August near the Kinnickinnic River. The police brought him into the station for questioning. Although he initially admitted to having been pleasuring himself, he later changed the story to state that he was only urinating when witnesses spotted him. The prosecution changed the charges to disorderly conduct and the court sentenced Dahmer to one year’s probation, as well as a series of counseling visits.

Law enforcement had already arrested Dahmer twice, and yet still nobody realized his real, sinister capability. This oversight continued to occur on further occasions, with family members, neighbors, and even law enforcement officers failing to see past his quiet, shy façade to spot the monster lurking behind. The real Dahmer, for all his fantasies and one murder victim already to his name, was invisible to everyone around him.

His murderous tendencies had lain dormant for years, but a mixture of factors had reawakened the real Dahmer and brought forth his urges once again. His aforementioned ability to blend in, plus Dahmer’s blatant disregard for getting caught, acted as an incredibly useful tactic for Dahmer.

It was one that would soon come in handy when he once again began to kill.

Check out the rest of Jeffrey story for Free on Amazon.

 

The post Jeffrey Dahmer: The Hungry Cannibalistic Rapist and Necrophiliac Serial Killer appeared first on Ryan Becker.

The following is the first 4 chapters of my book “Edmund Kemper: The True Story of The Brutal Co-ed Butcher”

The Home Where Demons Were Sown

“What do you think his sentence should be?” the reporter asked the judge. The judge replied that, if he had it his way, Kemper would be tortured to death. Instead of fulfilling his wish, during the penalty phase of the trial, the judge sentenced Edmund Kemper to eight concurrent life sentences. Kemper’s sentencing took place in November of 1973. The judge was not able to sentence Kemper to the death penalty because California had already eliminated capital punishment. At the time of his sentencing, Edmund Kemper was 25 years old. He was found guilty on 8 counts of first-degree murder and would become known as the “Co-ed Killer,” though his victims were not restricted to college co-eds. For Edmund Kemper, the descent into madness occurred early on.

Born December 18, 1948, in Burbank, California, Edmund Kemper was large from the start, weighing in at 13 pounds. By the time he was four years old, Edmund was a head taller than his peers. Edmund was the middle child of Edmund Emil Kemper II and Clarnell Kemper; he had two sisters. E.E. Kemper II was a veteran of World War II. After the war, the Kempers had settled in Burbank, which at the time was a small town located in Los Angeles County. E.E. worked at the Pacific Proving Grounds where he tested nuclear weapons. He later became an electrician. The town of Burbank had grown during the war because Lockheed Aircraft had chosen it as a site for the production of planes.  By 1943, Burbank had a population of 53, 899.

Both of Edmund’s parents were strict disciplinarians, and their marriage was strained. Clarnell Kemper was known to be a difficult woman. It has been suggested that Clarnell may have suffered from borderline personality disorder. Edmund’s father would later state that bomb testing was nothing compared to being married to Clarnell. He even said that being married to Clarnell had more of an impact on him “than three hundred and ninety-six days and nights of fighting on the front did.”

Edmund felt close to his father, as his mother was distant towards him, rarely showing him any affection. His feelings for his mother fueled a rage that would escalate with the passing of time, a rage that would foretell the destiny of both him and his mother. If Edmund’s rage was a ticking time bomb, then the lighting of the fuse was the divorce of his parents in 1957. Edmund was only nine years old when his father moved out; his mother was left with full custody. Clarnell moved Edmund and his two sisters to Montana. It was during this time that Edmund started to express his anger and violent tendencies.

At age 10, Edmund buried the family’s pet cat alive; he later dug up the dead cat and played with it.  When he was 13 years old, he killed another family cat because it favored the company of his sister, Allyn. Edmund butchered the cat with a machete knife and placed its remains in a closet. When his mother made the grisly discovery, Edmund denied any responsibility for the cat’s death.  Years later, as an adult, Edmund would reveal in an interview that he took pride in the fact that he could successfully lie about the cat’s death and that he could appear to be an average person despite the rage and fear that he felt inside.

As a child, Edmund considered himself to be a chronic daydreamer, often fantasizing about committing acts of violence against others, in particular, his mother. He would set fires and engage in play that was violent, like dismembering his sisters’ dolls, or pretending that he was in a gas chamber and mimicking the convulsive movements of a dying prisoner. At 10 years old, Edmund’s mother made him sleep in the basement of their home out of fear that he might harm his sisters. To prepare the basement for him, Edmund’s mother simply placed a mattress in the dark, barren room. Edmund would later recall the single, bare bulb that provided light in the rat-infested quarters that was his bedroom.

A few years later, Edmund could not take living with his mother anymore. He decided to run away so that he could be with his father, thinking that this would make his life easier. He was 14 years old at the time. His hopes for a better life were short-lived; they were dashed when he arrived at his father’s home in California. Edmund II had remarried and had a stepson through his new wife. He was less than enthusiastic to see his son but allowed Edmund to stay with him for a while before sending him back to his mother in Montana. Upon returning to his mother’s home, Edmund discovered that his mother was also planning to remarry. Like her ex-husband, Edmund II, Clarnell was not interested in having Edmund back. To remedy the situation, Clarnell decided to wash her hands of Edmund and sent him to his paternal grandparents in North Fork, CA.

Barely a teenager, Edmund was unwanted by both of his parents. His father, the only person who he felt close to, was starting a new life without him. His mother, who he held such deep anger for, was about to marry her third husband. He felt unwanted, was friendless, and was doing poorly in school. He wanted a connection with other people, especially girls or women, but he felt completely inadequate. His mother’s cruel and domineering ways had burned a hole in his soul. To fill up that hole, he went deeper into his fantasies of violence and killing. What he could not know was that his fantasies would materialize into reality upon his arrival at his grandparents’ ranch.

The Carnage Beings

The town of North Fork is located in central California, in the foothills of the Sierra Nevada. The town has three restaurants, two gas stations, and one grocery store. The home that Edmund’s grandparents, Edmund Kemper Sr. and his wife Maude, offered the 14- year old Edmund was not dramatically different from that of his mother. Maude was also authoritarian in her discipline and emasculated him just like his mother had.

Edmund spent as much time as possible outside to avoid dealing with his grandparents, especially Maude. His grandfather had bought him a .22 gauge rifle so that he could go hunting; however, his grandfather had taken it away from him when he discovered that Edmund had been shooting birds and animals that were not game animals. He had been shooting them just for the sake of killing, especially birds.  Edmund’s grandfather later allowed him to have his rifle back, thinking that Edmund had learned his lesson.

On the morning of August 27, 1964, Maude was in the kitchen, working on a children’s book that she was writing while her husband went grocery shopping.  Edmund entered the kitchen and opened the refrigerator, looking for something to eat. Maude made a comment about him sleeping in late and being useless when it came to helping out around the house. Edmund felt his mind drifting into that dark space that was filled with hate for his mother. He felt a surge of rage flood his body. Edmund stormed back to his room, leaving his grandmother happy that she could get under his skin.

Minutes later, Edmund returned to the kitchen with his .22 caliber rifle. Maude did not think anything of it, figuring that he was going hunting. “Don’t shoot any birds!” she said to him firmly. Edmund pointed his rifle at Maude and pulled the trigger. The first bullet went through her head. Still pumped with emotion, he fired two more shots into her back. Edmund felt like he was in a daze when he realized what he had just done. He dragged his grandmother’s body into her bedroom and placed her in the closet. Still, something about killing his grandmother left him with a sense of satisfaction.

His thoughts then turned to his grandfather; he would be returning any time now. Out of a distorted sense of compassion, Edmund felt that he had to also kill his grandfather as well. He did not want his grandfather to have to go through the experience of finding his wife murdered. Edmund looked out of the living room window and saw his grandfather’s car pulling up in the driveway. Edmund stepped out the front door and pointed his rifle as his grandfather was getting out of the car. After the shot rang out, his grandfather collapsed on the pavement. At the age of 15, Edmund Kemper had taken the lives of two people.

With both grandparents now dead, the reality of what he had done hit Edmund and he did not know what to do. He called his mother and told her what he had just done. His mother told him to call the police, which he did. Edmund sat in the kitchen as he waited for them to arrive. He was arrested and taken down to the police station, where he was interrogated. When asked why he had killed his grandmother, Edmund replied: “I just wanted to see what it felt like to kill her.”

When Institutions Fail

Edmund was placed in Juvenile Hall pending the California Youth Authority’s determination of where to place him in the long term. Psychiatrists at the California Youth Authority diagnosed Edmund as being paranoid schizophrenia, with an IQ of 136, near genius level. The California Youth Authority decided to place him in Atascadero State Hospital. 15-year old Edmund entered Atascadero State Hospital on December 6, 1964.

Atascadero State Hospital is a maximum-security facility located on the central coast of California that houses mentally ill convicts. In the late 1990s, there was an exodus of clinical staff from the Hospital because they felt that housing sexually violent predators went against the hospital’s mission of providing the highest quality care to those who had serious mental illness. For the hospital staff, housing sexually dangerous offenders went against that mission because it diverted time and resources.

Experts who are familiar with Edmund’s case believe that his referral to Atascadero State Hospital was an irresponsible decision. At the time Edmund was admitted to Atascadero, there were 1600 patients. Of those patients, 24 were murders, and 800 were sex offenders. The hospital only had 10 psychiatric staff members to serve this population.

Not only did Edmund not receive the quality of treatment needed for an offender of his age, his short stay at Atascadero only enhanced his ability to carry out his future crimes. Edmund spent four years at Atascadero. During that time, he gained the trust of his counselor, even befriending him. His ability to act as a model patient earned him a position as assistant to the staff, which meant he had access to psychological test papers and diagnosis criteria. Since Edmund was very bright, he was able to educate himself on how to fool the clinicians into believing that he was fully rehabilitated. He passed all of their psychological testings with flying colors, leading the hospital’s medical team to believe that there was no longer a need to contain him.

Despite the recommendations provided by his doctor at Atascadero, the California Youth Authority released Edmund to the custody of his mother in 1969. His doctor had urged them not to release Edmund to his mother, given her past abusive behavior and her psychological issues. Additionally, there was no psychiatrist on the panel for Edmund’s parole hearing, and no aftercare plan was offered.  Edmund was now 21 years old, had killed two people, spent four years in a maximum security hospital, and was now being ordered to return to the person he hated the most, his mother.

Clarnell had moved from Montana to Santa Cruz, California. Her marriage to her third husband had not worked out and had ended in divorce. Clarnell found a job as an administrator at the University of California at Santa Cruz. While he stayed with his mother, Edmund continued to experience emotional abuse from her. She frequently attacked his sense of self-worth, just as she had with her three ex-husbands.

Edmund attended a community college and worked a series of odd jobs as part of his parole requirements.  With his juvenile criminal record expunged, Edmund eventually landed a job with the California Department of Transportation in 1971. Edmund wanted to be a state trooper. He had applied, but he was disqualified. Edmund was 6’9″ tall and weighed 300 pounds. According to height and weight standards, recruits needed to be between 211-234 pounds.

Edmund wanted to get his own place and, through his job at the California Department of Transportation, he was able to save enough money to move into an apartment in the city of Alameda, which is located near San Francisco. He shared the apartment with a roommate. However, he was frequently unable to pay his rent and had to resort to moving back with his mother.

Edmund found himself facing a life that he felt was as confining as being in Atascadero. He had failed in his ability to support himself. He wanted to socialize and meet girls, but he lacked any confidence with women. He had never kissed a girl or been on a date. He was 21 years old, had killed two people, had spent the last four years in a mental hospital, and was back living with his mother. How could he ever hope to start a relationship, especially with his background? At least in Atascadero of his needs were met.

Days of Training

Edmund’s anger toward his mother only grew more intense. She had made him feel like a failure for all of his life. The anger that he held towards his mother carried over to women in general; although, he did want to socialize and have a relationship with them. As an outlet for his frustration, he engaged in voyeurism, and Santa Cruz was the perfect place for this.

Santa Cruz is a magnet for young people. Located on the northern edge of Monterey Bay and south of San Jose, Santa Cruz offers a great environment for those who enjoy an outdoor lifestyle and are open to free-thinking. The climate is moderate, and there are majestic coastlines, towering redwood forests, and plenty of wide, open spaces. Hippies, flower children, and college students are attracted to Santa Cru for its alternative community lifestyles and socially liberal attitudes, as well as its university. In 1970, the population of Santa Cruz was just over 32,000: a small university town nestled amid California’s natural beauty. Young people felt safe there and hitchhiking was common.

While working for the California Department of Transportation, Edmund had managed to save enough money to buy a motorcycle. One day while out riding, Edmund was involved in an accident when a car hit him. Edmund received a settlement of $15,000 from a civil suit that he filed against the driver. He used the money to purchase a yellow Ford Galaxy.

His violent fantasies became stronger and more frequent. In the beginning, Edmund cruised the highways and roads for young females who were hitchhiking, with no other intention than to look at them, to engage in voyeurism. At some point, conflicting forces took over, and the rage and anger that he had for this mother trumped his desires to merely look at the young women. Edmund purchased a gun and a knife and was able to obtain a pair of handcuffs. He found himself obsessed with putting his dark fantasies into action.

Edmund did not start killing the girls he picked up right away. He would later tell authorities that he had picked up around 150 hitchhikers and let each one of them go without incident. At first, he picked up female hitchhikers who he found attractive; he had an attraction to small and petite girls. As he drove them to their destination, he would observe their behavior and how they reacted to him. He learned ways to make them trust him, to gain their confidence. While he was learning to make his passengers feel comfortable, his violent fantasies of what he wanted to do to them became more intense. With each hitchhiker Edmund picked up, he was rehearsing how he would kill them. He gained insights by reading police novels, finding tips such as keeping his car door locked once he had a passenger inside, or how to give others the impression that he was safe. He rehearsed killings hundreds of times before actually doing it.

He practiced the art of picking up girls for over a year, during which time each girl reached her destination safely. That is, until May 7, 1972. That is when the killings started. Edmund was working through a mental tug-a-war. He would later say in an interview with detectives: “I was scared to death of having a relationship with women. I am picking up young women, and I am going a little farther each time. It’s a daring kind of thing. First, there wasn’t a gun. I am driving along. We go to a vulnerable place, where there aren’t people watching, where I could act out and I say, No, I can’t. And then a gun is in the car, hidden. And this craving, this awful raging, eating feeling inside, this fantastic passion. It was overwhelming me. It was like drugs. It was like alcohol. A little isn’t enough.”

From Fantasy to Reality

When Mary Ann Pesce and her friend Anita Luchese failed to arrive at Berkley, California, their parents filed a missing person report. Both girls were students at Fresno State College and were hitchhiking to Stanford University. They had planned to spend a few days in Berkley. Police did not give the missing girls a high priority because of the high number of runaways and the transients nature of the Bay area. Additionally, the police thought, teenage girls often spend time with friends or boyfriends without telling anyone. While the lack of a rapid response by the police must have been deeply frustrating for the girls’ parents, an immediate response by police would not have made a difference this time.

Edmund had picked up Mary Ann and Anita from the highway on May 7, 1972, and driven them to a secluded area. He tied up Anita and left her in the car. He took Mary Ann at gunpoint into the woods. He stabbed her multiple times and left her for dead. He then went back to the car for Anita. He could not believe that he had killed Mary Ann and was fearful that Anita would tell on him. Anita could see the blood on his hands, which concerned him. He told Anita that he had got into a fight with Mary Ann and had punched her in the nose. He said that she should go with him to take care of her. Before Anita could react, he started stabbing her repeatedly with his knife. He would later tell investigators that the knife that he used was inadequate for the job. He had to stab her numerous times to kill her, as the knife would not penetrate the overalls that she was wearing.

Edmund put the bodies of both girls in the trunk of his car and slammed it shut. He was about to drive away from the scene but was unable to find his car keys. He panicked as he believed that he had left them in the trunk of the car. After several futile attempts to open the trunk, Edmund panicked and ran away. While running, he tripped and fell. In his excitement, he forgot about the gun that he was carrying, causing it to drop to the ground as well. He realized that he needed to calm down and gather his wits. As he calmed down, he realized that his car keys had been in his back pocket the whole time. He drove around with Anita’s body in the trunk as he tried to figure out what to do next.

Eventually, Edmund decided that the best place to bring them was his apartment. Among the items that he kept in the car in preparation for committing murder were blankets. Edmund wrapped both girls’ bodies in blankets and carried them one by one into his apartment. Once in his apartment, Edmund removed the girls’ clothes and dissected and decapitated them. Edmund dumped the bodies in a remote ravine, but he kept the heads in his apartment for a few days before disposing of them as well. A feeling of power washed over him. He felt that he had appeased his inner demons. For now.

Four months passed since Edmund had killed Mary Ann and Anita. Mary Ann’s body and head were discovered, but Anita’s remains were not found. No one had suspected that Edmund was the killer. During Edmund’s reign of terror, other serial killers were also committing murders in the areas around Santa Cruz, which may have added to the confusion.

On September 14, 1972, 15-year old Aiko Koo was hitchhiking on the highway. Aiko was trying to get to her dance class and she had given up on waiting for the bus. It was evening. Edmund spotted her on the side of the road. Aikoo hesitated before accepting a ride from him. Edmund was bolder this time, as he was gaining confidence. He went directly for his gun. Aiko started to panic, which was a problem for Edmund, as he could not control his vehicle and her at the same time. He persuaded her that he had the gun because he was going to commit suicide and that she would not be harmed if she did not attempt to signal for help from the police or other nearby cars.

Edmund turned off onto a mountain road and drove until he found a secluded spot. He grabbed and restrained Aiko, wrapping tape around her mouth so that she could not speak or breathe. He jammed his fingers up her nostrils so that she could not breathe; her struggling ceased when she lost consciousness. To Edmund’s surprise, Aiko regained consciousness a few minutes later. He grabbed her scarf and strangled her, not letting up until he was sure that she was dead.

Edmund threw her body into his trunk and drove away. His confidence in his ability to kill, and get away with it, was growing, so much so that he stopped off to get a beer at a local bar, the Jury Room.

The Jury Room was a bar that was a frequent hangout for police offers. Edmund was always interested in the police and enjoyed talking to them. Since murdering Mary Ann and Anita, he had added incentive to go to the Jury Room to see if he could catch any conversations about their murders. The police at the bar referred to him as “Big Ed” and thought of him as a polite, articulate, and gentle individual.  After a few drinks, Edmund drove to his mother’s home to visit. Neither the police at the Jury Room nor his mother had any idea that the car that was parked outside contained Aiko’s body.  Edmund even took time to excuse himself from these social visits to take another look at the body.

Like many serial killers, Edmund would often keep trophies of his victims. Besides body parts, he would keep articles of clothing, photographs, and other personal items.

After leaving his mother’s home, Edmund drove back to his apartment. He transferred Aiko’s body from the trunk of his car to his bed, where he laid her down. As with Mary Ann and Anita, he dissected her body and removed her hands and head, which he disposed of in various locations. Later on, he disposed of the rest of her body. Aiko’s remains were never located and authorities did not connect her disappearance with Mary Ann and Anita.

The day after killing Aiko, Edmund attended a meeting with a group of psychiatrists, as a requirement of his parole. The purpose of the meeting was to evaluate Edmund’s progress and to check if he was adhering to the conditions of his parole. Edmund told the two psychiatrists exactly what they wanted to hear. They were satisfied with the fact that he was attending college and doing well. They also liked that he was actively searching for a job and was obeying all the conditions of his parole. Both psychiatrists reported that Edmund was not a danger to others and that he seemed normal. They did not know that Edmund had killed three women since his release. They did not know that one of those women, Aiko, had been killed just the day before.

The following day, the San Madera police department received a dealer’s records of sale for a .44-caliber revolver that was purchased by Edmund Kemper. Sergeant Aluffi was chosen to follow up on Kemper to determine if he was authorized to have it. Sergeant Aluffi went to Edmund’s home, which was difficult to find given the layout of the houses in the area. Eventually he found it; however, there was no one home. He then remembered that other officers had mentioned that Edmund frequented the Jury Room. He drove to the Jury Room and upon his arrival saw a vehicle pull into the Jury Room’s parking lot. As he watched, he saw a huge man exit the vehicle. The sergeant knew instantly by the size of the man that it was Edmund.  He approached Edmund, who moved toward the trunk of the car.

Sergeant Aluffi advised Edmund that he was here to take his gun, as he needed to determine if he was authorized to own it. Edmund advised him that it was in the trunk of the car. When Edmund moved toward the trunk of the car, Sergeant Alfuffi advised him not to move and that he would open the trunk. When Sergeant Alfuffi opened the car’s trunk, he found the gun wrapped up in a blanket. When the gun was checked, along with Edmund’s background, no red flags were raised. Because he was a juvenile when he had killed his grandparents, the records of his crimes had been expunged.

Edmund’s next murder involved his mother’s home. He was growing cocky in his ability to kill undetected. On January 8, 1973, Edmund picked up Cindy Schall, who was hitchhiking. Edmund shot her and took her body to his mother’s home; she was out. Edmund carried Cindy’s body to his room, where he was staying at the time. Just as with his previous victims, Edmund dissected then dismembered her body and decapitated her.  The following day, Edmund dumped her bloody body parts in the pristine oceans around Santa Cruz. As for her head, he buried it in his mother’s backyard. He buried it directly in front of his bedroom window so that it would face him.

The police would later get a call from beachgoers who came across Cindy’s body parts, which had washed ashore. The police had yet to connect Edmund to any of his past murders, let alone link his past victims to each other. Edmund felt so sure of himself that he continued to visit the Jury Room on a regular basis. The University of Santa Cruz, in partnership with the Santa Cruz police, started an awareness campaign to warn students of the danger of hitchhiking. They released this message:

“When possible, girls especially, stay in dorms after midnight with doors locked. If you must be out at night, walk in pairs. If you see a campus police patrol car and wave, they will give you a ride. Use the bus even if somewhat inconvenient. Your safety is of first importance. If you are leaving campus, advise someone where you are going, where you can be reached and the approximate time of your return. DON’T HITCH A RIDE, PLEASE!!!”

On February 5th, Edmund got into a heated argument with his mother. He stormed out of his mother’s house and hopped into his car. His urge to kill kicked in; killing provided a release for the intense anger that he had for his mother. During this particular drive, Edmund’s windshield was adorned with a parking permit from the University of Santa Cruz, which he had got from his mother. It allowed him to drive onto campus, looking for potential victims. He cruised around the interior of the campus area and spotted Rosalind Thorpe.

He offered her a ride and she got into his car without any hesitation. He drove a little further and spotted another co-ed hitchhiking, Alice Liu. Seeing Rosalind in the passenger seat and the University’s parking permit on Edmund’s car, Alice got into the backseat without any concern. Edmund was so confident in his ability to kill that he did not even attempt to find a secluded area to park. As they drove, on the empty highway, Edmund distracted Rosalind by pointing to a scenic view of the ocean. As Rosalind looked through the passenger window, Edmund shot her in the head, killing her instantly. Alice screamed and tried to escape. He stopped the car and shot her in the head. As she was still alive, he shot her three more times in the head and then continued to drive as though nothing had happened.

Edmund found a quiet place on the side of the road and placed both bodies in the trunk of his car, taking the time to wrap them up in blankets. He brought the bodies to his mother’s home. She was not home, so he carried the bodies to his room where he beheaded them. He had sex with Alice’s body and then dismembered the two bodies. He also took the time to remove the bullets from both of the heads. He disposed the body parts in the area of Santa Cruz and the heads and hands in the city of Pacifica. In March, hikers in San Mateo County came across a skull and jawbone near Highway 1; the bones belonged to different people. When detectives searched the area further, they recovered a second skull that belonged to the jawbone found by the hikers. The remains belonged to Rosalind and Alice.

Edmund would later tell investigators after his arrest, that each of the co-eds that he killed was a “practice run.” He was sharpening his skills to kill. All of this “training” was building him up so that he would be able to murder the one person who stood at the center of his rage: his mother. Edmund told the investigators, “I lived as an ordinary person most of my life, even though I was living a parallel and increasingly violent other life.” That “increasingly violent other life” would boil over on April 21, 1973.

 

Check out the rest of Edmund’s story for Free on Amazon.

 

 

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This is a short chapter from one of the stories in my book List of Twelve Vol.2
Blaine Norris and Ryan Trimble

The making of the film “Through Hike: A Ghost Story,” was falling apart, as was the impassioned dream of its 25-year-old director, Blaine Norris. A resident of Pennsylvania, Norris was known for being a “horror movie geek,” and a nerd. Norris was obsessed with making his first attempt at movie making a success. The last thing he wanted to do was to return to his job at Harrisburg Insurance Company, where he worked as a computer technician.

The Opening Scene

Norris camped out with a small group of amateur actors and actresses on the Appalachian Trail and began filming. The movie was about a group of young people hiking the Appalachian Trail who get murdered by the ghost of a coal-mining baron.

As the movie director, Norris had his friend and co-worker, Brian Trimble, who had his own equipment, film the scenes. An investor had put up $18,000 to complete the project; however, Trimble had put the project in peril by botching up the filming, causing the film to go over budget. The investor had withdrawn his money in frustration.

As the cast rested for the night in their tents, Norris stayed up and pondered his situation. He was feeling the stress of not being able to pay for the film. He had lost his investor, and his credit cards were maxed out. Even worse, he had borrowed against his house without telling his wife. Further, she was frustrated with him for spending all of his time working on the movie.

As he sat by the campfire, Norris could no longer ignore the obvious. He was heavily in debt and had run out of money to complete the film. Feeling defeated, Norris realized that it was time to call it quits. He would gather his crew and return home the next morning. His lifelong dream had come to an end. That was all that he could think.

The next morning, Norris drove home to his apartment. He and his family had moved there when the bank foreclosed on their house. He entered the apartment and found it empty. Everything was gone, including the furniture. He spotted a note and read it; it was from his wife. She explained that she could not take it anymore and that she was taking her son and moving on. Standing alone in the barren apartment, Norris came to the realization that he had lost everything. He would have to return to his life as a computer technician; his dreams were not to be.

The Proposal and Rehearsal

The next day, Norris spent his lunch break with Trimble. Trimble confided with him about his own marital woes and Norris shared his hard luck story as well. Trimble told Norris that he was sick of the married life and how his wife was constantly following-up on him. She always wanted to know where he was. He felt that his life was reduced to going to work and making his wife happy. This discussion resulted in the two men conspiring together to resolve their problems in a deadly manner.

Trimble shared with Norris that he had taken out a $100,000 life insurance policy on his wife. He asked Norris if he would be willing to kill her. In turn, he would pay Norris the money that he needed to complete his film. Norris was interested. He thought about the idea of reviving his life’s dream. Further, his friend would be free of his wife.

Norris’s desire to be a director kicked in then took over, and he and Trimble spent the next few months planning the murder. He staged and repeatedly rehearsed the murder with Trimble, just as he did when he was directing his movie. On the day before the murder, Norris went to K-Mart and bought work gloves, a box of plastic surgical gloves, a hooded sweatshirt, and pants. He also bought a knife with a 6” blade.

 Lights, Camera, Action, and Murder

On January 10th, 2003, their plan was put into action. Trimble and his wife, Randi, lived in a townhouse in the city of Harrisburg. While Randi was at work, Norris entered her garage and waited for her return. As he waited, he could not help dreaming about his future life as a movie director. He would have the insurance money to fund his film and make a major dent in his debt. Plus, he no longer had to put up with his wife’s complaints. While Norris waited, Trimble was dining at a restaurant with friends. The dinner would provide Trimble with an alibi.

Norris heard a car pull up in the driveway; it was Randi. She got out of the car and went inside her home. She slipped out of her work clothes and lay down on the couch to relax. Norris slipped out of the garage, threw a metallic object against her car, and then hid in the shadows by the side of the garage.

As he hoped, Randi stepped out of her home to investigate. She inspected her car but did not notice anything suspicious. She turned around and made her way back to her front door. Unbeknownst to her, Norris had already made his way inside her home.

Norris lay in wait for her inside the hallway. When Randi returned to the living room, he bided his time until she had turned her back toward him. When she did, he pounced on her from behind. He put a rope around her neck and proceeded to choke her. Randi managed to place her fingers between the rope and her neck. Though she was choking, her fingers prevented Randi from killing her.

Frustrated, Norris cursed at her and stabbed her with his knife twenty-seven times. When he was done with her, Randi was completely covered in blood. Her hair was matted in it. Norris then ransacked the apartment to make the scene look like a burglary gone wrong.

The detectives were suspicious when they investigated the crime scene. It was clear to them that Randi’s murder had not been the result of a robbery, as they could tell that the ransacking of the apartment had been staged. Eventually, Trimble confessed and agreed to testify against Norris to avoid the death penalty. Because Norris agreed to confess, both men were sentenced to first-degree murder without the possibility of parole.

Check out List of Twelve Vol.2 to read more of chilling stories.

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This is a short chapter from one of the stories in my book List of Twelve Vol.1
Amy Bishop

In March 2008, Amy Bishop, a biology professor at the University of Alabama, was in her office catching up on her mail before her next class started. She didn’t know it at the time, but she was about to open one particular piece of mail that would trigger a chain of events leading to the death of three people.

The letter was from the Dean of the Colleges of Science and stated that Bishop was being dismissed from the university as of February 26th, 2010. Bishop was advised that the spring of 2010 would be her last semester at the university, as she had not made tenure.

Background

From an outsider’s view, Bishop appeared to be a success in life. Born April 24th, 1965, Bishop was married, had four children, and was highly educated. She received her undergraduate degree from the Northeastern University in Boston, earned her Ph.D. in genetics from Harvard University, and became an assistant professor at the University of Alabama in 2003. She also partnered with her husband in developing a portable cell incubator, a technology that maintains and supports the growth of microorganisms when conducting biological experiments. Their endeavors were part of a competition in which they won third place and $25,000.

Bishop is the second cousin of author John Irving. When she was living in Massachusetts in the 1990s, she had also pursued writing by joining the Hamilton Writer’s Group. She hoped that becoming a writer would allow her to leave academia. She wrote three novels, none of which were ever published. Despite all of her accomplishments, there were problems with her conduct. Members of the Hamilton Writer’s Group have stated that she tried to present herself as a serious writer by frequently bringing up her degree from Harvard and her association with John Irving. They also found her to be abrasive and self-righteous, and that she deemed herself deserving of praise.

In her tenure review meeting at the University of Alabama, Bishop learned that one of her colleagues on the board had referred to her as “crazy.” In response, Bishop filed a complaint with the Equal Employment Opportunity Commission.

During faculty meetings, some professors accused her of acting in erratic ways. She was not popular with her students, who saw her as a poor instructor. They felt that she was “ineffective in the classroom and behaved in odd and unsettling ways.” Some of her students went so far as to sign a petition requesting that the University take action but nothing ever came of it. Bishop once published an academic article and used the names of her husband and children as the article’s co-authors.

According to the University, Bishop did not receive tenure because she had not submitted all of her research papers in time to get published, so they did not count toward her tenure. The University board also felt that she was spending too much time seeking patents for her portable cell incubator. However, there were darker parts of Bishop’s past of which the University was unaware.

In 1986, Bishop fatally shot her brother; however, no charges were brought as it was ruled to be an accident. In 1993, both she and her husband were suspected of sending a letter bomb to Paul Rosenberg, a colleague of Bishop’s at Harvard University. The letter bomb failed to explode and authorities lacked the evidence required to bring charges against the Bishops. In 2002, Bishop was charged with misdemeanor assault and disorderly conduct for punching another customer at the International House of Pancakes in Peabody, Massachusetts.

Tragic Meeting

The same morning that Bishop received her letter of termination, February 26th, 2010, she was scheduled to attend a faculty meeting for the biology department. The meeting started around 3:00 pm and was attended by twelve of her colleagues, who sat around a large oval meeting table. Bishop sat silently as the group discussed business. After 40 minutes had passed, Bishop stood up and pulled out a 9-mm handgun. She shot the person sitting next to her in the head and then methodically continued shot each person around the table in the head. Those who were sitting on the opposite side of the table attempted to take refuge on the floor. In the words of Debra Moriarity, a survivor of the attack, “This wasn’t random shooting around the room; this was execution style.” Moriarity survived because Bishop’s gun jammed when it was her turn.

With the help of others, Moriarity rushed Bishop and pushed her out of the room before barricading the door. Bishop had killed three people and wounded three others. On September 11th, 2012, she was charged with three counts of capital murder and three counts of attempted murder. She was sentenced to life in prison without the possibility of parole and is being held at the Julia Tutwiler Prison for Women. While in prison, Bishop was hospitalized after she attacked another female inmate.

Check out List of Twelve Vol. 1 to read more of chilling stories.

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The following is the first 3 chapters of my book “Robert Berdella: The True Story of a Man Who Turned His Darkest Fantasies Into a Reality”

A God-Fearing Boy

Our story begins in Cuyahoga Falls, Ohio, on the 31st of January, 1949. Robert Andrew Berdella, Jr. was born to Robert Sr. and Alice Berdella, a practicing Catholic couple who immediately integrated their new son into their faith. Robert’s younger brother, Daniel, was born when Robert was seven, and the two were raised as good, well-behaved boys who would avoid bad behavior, lest they anger their strict father.

The young Robert suffered a large amount of bullying during his childhood years due to being nearsighted and having to wear thick glasses. He slowly turned into a loner who rarely got involved in group activities or social interaction with friends. He was a good student with decent grades, but the constant bullying marred his school years and created a distant boy who behaved in a detached manner.

Berdella’s teenage years were heavily influenced by his disaffection with Catholicism and a life-changing discovery: he was a homosexual.

When Robert was just 16, his father died of a heart attack at 39 years of age. This caused great sadness in the boy, but nothing hurt him more than when his mother remarried and moved in with another man just a few months later. In Robert’s immature mind, this was enough reason to feel insanely angry — he felt as though his mother had flippantly discarded his father’s memory and grabbed a new lover instantly while he himself was still grieving.

Initially, Robert attempted to find solace in religion, but this became harder every day, as the pain of the loss of his father ate away at him. This, along with an incident at work when a male co-worker took advantage and sexually abused Robert, made him reconsider his faith, and he abandoned the Catholic Church for good. He now had a cynical attitude towards religion and he began to read and investigate about different faiths, without truly believing in any of them.

Around the time of his father’s death in 1965, Robert watched the film adaptation of the book ‘The Collector’. He saw the protagonist capture a beautiful woman, hold her captive in an underground, windowless room, and study her as a sort of specimen. The movie left an impression on the young Berdella, one that was strong enough for him to decide to eventually recreate these events in real life.

Berdella graduated from high school in the summer of 1967. Before long he moved to Kansas City for a change of scenery. He wanted to study art and become a professor at the Kansas City Art Institute. In college, Berdella was considered to be a talented student who worked extra hard to find inspiration. However, he also seemed to work hard at abusing alcohol and he even began to sell minor drugs to addict classmates. This eventually came back to bite him when he was picked up by the police for drug possession. Luckily for Berdella, they didn’t have enough evidence to impose anything harsher than a fine.

Although Berdella had friends in college, he still lacked the mercy that many normal human beings possess. On three particular occasions, Berdella experimented on live animals during art classes; the final time he murdered a dog in front of a crowd ‘for art’. The College Board decided that enough was enough. Berdella was stripped of his place at the Kansas City Art Institute and an occurrence that caused him a significant amount of shame.

Where a normal person may have taken this as a signal to turn their life around, Berdella felt aggrieved by his expulsion from the Institute. Berdella felt that the Board at the Center of Studies simply didn’t understand his brand of art and were clearly just oppressing his desires. It was at this moment that the young Berdella, already troubled, took a turn for the worse. For the much, much worse, in fact.

Berdella’s Bizarre Bazaar

During his time studying art, Robert had adopted some unusual pastimes, such as collecting oddities and writing to distant pen pals in countries such as Vietnam and Burma. His interest in primitive art and antiques would eventually fill him with the desire to open a business in this field, but first, he needed to make the necessary funds.

Thus, in 1969, after being expelled from the Kansas City Art Institute, Berdella changed his direction in life. After brief consideration, he decided to move to the Hyde Park district of Kansas City. There, he was a helpful neighbor within the community, taking part in Crime Prevention and Neighborhood Watch patrols, and gaining the love and respect of his fellow Hyde Park residents. He was also known for participating in fundraising events for a local television station.

Another more secret but equally respectable side of Robert’s life was what he did with several vulnerable young men of the city in the early 70s. After having a brief relationship with a Vietnam War veteran, Berdella began spending time with young males who had gotten into prostitution, drugs, or were runaways. He tried his hardest to steer these young men back onto the right track in their lives and to assist them to leave their harmful lifestyles behind. Those that were unaware of the sexual nature of some of these relationships thought of Berdella as a sort of ‘foster parent’ to these young men.

At the same time as Berdella attempted to improve himself on an interpersonal level, he also attempted to improve his professionalism. He soon started getting work as a cook all over the city. When he wasn’t working at a bar or restaurant, Robert found time to sell antique items and art to contacts, all from the comfort of his home. Both of these activities allowed him to succeed and cover his expenses; and he would soon have many of these, thanks to lawyer fees and fines accumulated due to arrests. Berdella eventually became a prestigious, well-known cook in town, working for renowned businesses and even joining a chef’s association where he helped train young students at a local chef college.

Despite this success as a cook, however, Berdella found that his interest in antiques and oddities couldn’t be shaken off, and he decided to invest the money he’d made in starting an antique-selling business. In 1982, he rented a booth at the Westport Flea Market, naming it Berdella’s Bizarre Bazaar. He sold jewelry and antiques to both curious amateurs and expert customers.

While managing the booth, Berdella befriended a man named Paul Howell, and his son, Jerry. Robert and Jerry soon formed a friendship. They were often seen sharing drinks in the company of friends. At other times, Berdella gave the young troublemaker a bit of legal advice.

To everyone around him, it looked like Robert had finally found someone to care about and spend time with — something he had never truly had since childhood — but what was happening in truth was far more sinister.

Berdella was beginning to measure his first possible victim, a process that would end with bloodcurdling results.

The Bloodshed Commences

Jerry Howell was just 19 when it happened. He’d owed Robert a sum of money for a while now and had been constantly evading the man’s questions whenever the issue came up. As time passed, he seemed less and less likely to pay the debt. This angered Berdella, who was already filled with a strange and misguided anger that was just waiting for a reason to be unleashed on the world.

It didn’t take long to manifest.

On the 4th of July, 1984, Berdella decided that he had waited long enough. The signs had been there for years, but nobody had paid attention. It wasn’t really a killing instinct that drove Berdella, but instead the urge to cause pain and push the human body to its extremes. He felt that he needed to know how much pain he could cause and how much damage and destruction he could do to a fellow man.

He arrived at Jerry’s home with an excuse already on his lips — he had come to take the young man to a dancing contest. Jerry, naïve of his friend’s true motives, got the car with Berdella. They drove for a while, with Berdella offering Jerry a drink in the car before they reached their destination. Unfortunately for Jerry, the drinks were spiked with sedative drugs. Berdella simply drove around killing time until Jerry no longer knew what was happening.

Berdella grew excited and took Jerry back home with him. He injected him with even more tranquilizer to keep him submissive. Berdella bred Chow-Chow dogs and had collected plenty of animal sedatives for when the perfect moment arose. The youth became unconscious and all that Robert Berdella had ever hoped for was now his to enjoy: a helpless victim to torture as he saw fit.

He bound Jerry to his bed with glee, stripping him of his clothes and admiring his body. That body became the target for more than twenty-four hours of sexual and physical abuse. Berdella didn’t just rape Jerry personally during his horrific night of captivity; he also introduced foreign objects — such as a cucumber — into the youth’s anus, tearing it without mercy. Whenever Jerry was conscious enough to beg for mercy and ask Berdella why he was doing such terrible things, Berdella would answer with a quick shot of sedative, which put him back under. Berdella even went to work while the man was unconscious, in an attempt to keep anyone from suspecting what was truly going on. It worked.

 When he returned from work, Berdella had new ideas on how to cause agony to his captive’s body. Taking advantage of the young man’s helplessness, Berdella continued his torture for a long period of time, despite the Jerry begging him to stop. The twisted torturer decided to keep mementos for his future pleasure and documented most of the process with his Polaroid and a notebook, a pair of items he would soon come to use very often.

The horrific ordeal only ended when young Jerry died sometime after midnight, July 5, 1984. Berdella would later confess that he was unsure whether it had been due to Jerry asphyxiating on his own vomit — he had been gagged for a long period of the torture — or the fact that the excess of medicines had stopped him breathing. After a brief and failed attempt at CPR, a disappointed Berdella lifted up the now dead Jerry Howell and dragged him down to the basement. There, he hung the corpse from the ceiling over a pot and climbed back upstairs to search for his set of cooking knives. Berdella worked on the victim’s body like a butcher in a slaughterhouse, cutting open the jugular and inner elbow veins to drain the blood from the corpse.

Berdella left the body hanging overnight, returning the next morning to finish cutting it up with a chainsaw and bone knives. There was a feeling of dissatisfaction growing within him already, but he ignored it long enough to concentrate on disposing of the body in dog food bags wrapped in larger black bags. He left the bags outside for the garbage collectors.

With his first victim dead and a long and detailed document of the killing safely in his Polaroid pictures and diary, another killer may have called it a day.

Berdella, however, was only just getting started….

Check out the rest of Robert’s story for Free on Amazon.

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In the research done by Radford University in 2013, the United States is home to more than twenty times the number of serial killers than England. 76% of serial killers come from the US, though England does have the second highest number of serial killers.
Most serial killers are white males aged between 20 and 35. However, as in more recent years, this has changed. The population of serial killers belonging to other races, age brackets, and gender identities has increased.
The majority of serial killers admit that their first victims were small creatures, like animals. They practiced their first killings on small animals before switching to humans where they found more pleasure and fulfillment of their fantasies. Since most of the time serial killers come from dysfunctional families, episodes of this abnormal behavior may have been disregarded.
‘The Co-Ed Killer’, Edmund Kemper, told police after killing his grandparents, “I just wanted to see how it felt to shoot Grandma.”
Jeffrey Dahmer didn’t aim to kill; rather, he said, “I just wanted to have the person under my complete control.” He liked the idea of being able to keep them for as long as he pleased.
Robert Berdella claimed he was inspired by the movie adaptation of John Fowles’ book, The Collector. After the death of his father and after a forced sexual encounter with a male coworker at 16, ‘The Texas City Butcher’ saw the movie and claimed that it left a great impression on him. The film is about a man his mid-20s named Frederick Clegg who becomes obsessed with a beautiful teenager, Miranda Grey. Clegg kidnaps Grey and keeps her in his house, believing that she will eventually fall in love with him.
Charles Manson was granted a license for a prison marriage but called the wedding off. He had got engaged to a fan-turned-fiancé, Afton Elaine ‘Star’ Burton, however, he changed his mind when he learned of the woman’s real intention: to have the right of possession over Manson’s corpse once he’d died. Burton’s plan was to display his cold, lifeless body and earn money from people who wanted to see it.
Most of Ted Bundy’s victims physically resembled his ex-girlfriend. Bundy had fallen in love with a girl who had dark-colored hair that was parted in the middle. Most of his victims were said to be similar to his ex, given that most of them were dark-haired and usually parted their hair in the middle.
H. Holmes, one of the first serial killers in America, undertook his tortures and killings on the upper floors of his Murder Castle. He lured guests there during the Columbian Expedition in the 1890s. There were more than 60 rooms, with hallways leading to dead ends, stairs leading nowhere, and doors opening to more doors.
Richard Chase placed oranges on his head. As odd as it seems, he believed this would allow him to absorb vitamin C.
David Berkowitz claimed a demon spoke to him – through a dog. In 1977, the ‘Son of Sam’ confessed to killing six New York citizens and leaving seven others wounded. He gave himself the nickname ‘Son of Sam’, using the moniker in a letter he wrote to Jimmy Breslin, a newspaper columnist.
Alexander Pichushkin’s goal was to kill 64 innocent people, corresponding the number of squares on a standard chess board. Hence, his nickname, ‘The Chessboard Killer’. His preferred victims were homeless men who wandered around carrying vodka. Most of his killings were done by repeatedly hammering their heads and inserting a vodka bottle into the gaping skull wound.
Robert Berdella kept a notebook in which he wrote about his crimes in detail. He took Polaroid photographs that showed his victims’ torture and deaths.
‘The Butcher of Rostov’, serial killer Andrei Chikatilo, claimed he knew he had to be destroyed, and that he was “a mistake of nature.” He raped, killed and mutilated a total of 53 people, including women and youths, from 1978 to 1990. Sentenced in 1994, he was shot by firing squad after two years of incarceration.
H. Holmes made sure he was the only one who had knowledge of the real blueprint and purpose of his hotel, ‘The Murder Castle’. Holmes constantly accused his workers of not being competent enough and took them off the job whenever he thought they were getting suspicious about the construction.
Karla Homolka helped her boyfriend rape her younger sister. Homolka’s boyfriend preyed on teenage girls. Together, they raped and murdered a total of three teenagers, including her younger sister. She was jailed for 12 years and was released in 2005. She is now remarried with three children.
Ted Bundy rescued a drowning kid. He was not bad all the time; despite killing around 30 innocent people, he did save one life. He was also once commended by the Seattle Police Department for chasing down a thief who had robbed a purse.
Luis Alfredo Garavito’s targets were boys with ages ranging from 8 to 16. Despite his proven count of 138 murders (and more suspected), sources infer that he will still be granted the eligibility to be released in the future.
‘The Vampire of Sacramento’, Richard Chase, only went into houses whose doors were unlocked. He saw unlocked doors as an invitation for him to go inside. He was given the name ‘Vampire’ because he drank the blood of his victims in Sacramento.
Richard Chase performed vampirism in an attempt to counteract his feeling that his heart stopped beating often. He was a hypochondriac. His first vampire activity was to inject himself with rabbit blood. From there he moved on to human blood. He shot and killed five people.
“I always had the desire to inflict pain on others and to have others inflict pain on me. UI always seemed to enjoy everything that hurt. The desire to inflict pain that is all that is uppermost,” said Albert Fish, a pedophile who raped and killed. He was one of the first to experience the electric chair at Sing Sing Correctional Facility, New York City.
The man behind the creepy Pogo the Clown, John Wayne Gacy, said, “The only thing they can get me for is running a funeral parlor without a license.” Gacy raped and murdered more than 30 men, including boys, in the 1970s.
“Even psychopaths have emotions; then again, maybe not,” said ‘The Night Strangler’, Richard Ramirez, known for being a rapist, murderer, burglar who invaded the homes of elderly women.
Known as the Moors Murders, this five-children killing spree was perpetrated by Myra Hindley and Ian Brady. As for Hindley’s cooperation with Brady, she said, “He dominated me completely.” She claimed that Brady had threatened, raped, whipped, and caned her. According to Hindley, Brady had also threatened to kill her family.
The still unidentified, Zodiac Killer said, “If the blue meanies are going to get me they’d better get off their asses and do something.” The Zodiac Killer has five confirmed murders dating to the 1960s and 1970s, however, has not been arrested by police.

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