I was delighted to randomly come across this book in the true crime section, since I'd been wanting to learn more about this man ever since I first heard a brief yet sensational overview of his crimes. I can now say after reading this that the sensationalism wasn't formed by exaggeration, it's the story and crimes themselves that are inherently over-the-top and evil to an almost cartoonish degree. Mike DeBardeleben's criminal career is one that would make movie audiences roll their eyes in disbelief, yet all of it really freaking happened. And it's one of the most extreme and disturbing examples of sexual sadism I've ever come across. The fact that DeBardeleben's name isn't even close to being as well-known as Bundy, Dahmer, Gacy and the rest of the most infamous names in serial crime is incomprehensible to me. But more on that in a bit.
This book has three significant problems, most of which stem from the sheer complexity of the case itself: it isn't organized well enough, it has many gaps in the narrative of DeBardeleben's life and crimes, and most importantly it's WAY too short. The first two problems are almost certainly exacerbated if not entirely created by the apparent lack of available information on DeBardeleben in general. While the Secret Service and DeBardeleben himself kept extensive records, there are still a staggering number of gaps in his crime timeline, which no one aside from DeBardeleben himself seems able to fill in. I'm willing to overlook that, but the short length of the book compared to the gargantuan amounts of notes, letters, tapes, etc. DeBardeleben made is what I find baffling. I desperately wanted to read MORE of his notes and diaries, to see MORE pictures of the huge amounts and varieties of evidence collected from his storage lockers. You could probably publish an entirely separate book containing JUST that information and have it be five times the length of this book, and that's a low end estimate. I read true crime books in order to get inside the heads of the offenders, and I felt like this book had only barely scratched the surface of DeBardeleben's inner turmoil and pathology by the time it was over.
Despite all the holes in the timeline, what parts of DeBardeleben's life we are told about are absolutely chilling. That someone so toxic could cover so much ground in so little time is nauseating, because it forces you to imagine how many men, women and children he could've victimized in just a single year of his criminal career. Then you remember this guy was free to do this for decades, and it becomes overwhelming to the point where your brain wants to go into denial mode just to lessen the horror. It's clear that not only did DeBardeleben want to hurt his victims in the present, but that he took great pride in going out of his way to make sure his victims STAYED hurt years after he disappeared from their lives. He tortured others in every way imaginable and in fact seemed to view torture as an art, one he researched and practiced and was exceedingly skilled at. He was a student of violent pornography and material about other serial killers/rapists, and even cobbled together life lessons and sadistic fantasies from his own abusive childhood. Every single person, object or event in his life was evaluated in terms of what role it could play in the fulfillment of his next fantasy, regardless of whether that was scamming thousands of dollars off a naive elderly person, kidnapping a young girl to sexually abuse, or murdering a woman simply because the opportunity arose to do so. The depth and breadth of his narcissism and sexual sadism is almost unrivaled compared to other serial offenders I've read about. When Roy Hazelwood himself makes special mention of how absolutely vile a person he is, you know DeBardeleben has reached a level of absolute depravity and corruption that is extraordinary even among the worst of the worst criminals.
Going back to an aforementioned point, I find it extremely difficult to understand why this man is so obscure relative to other serial offenders who do not approach his level of criminal intelligence, range, inventiveness, proliferation and depravity. There is almost NO category of crime that DeBardeleben didn't at least dabble in. His counterfeiting activities alone are legendary, and based on his own 'collections' I feel certain he has to be one of the most prolific serial rapists this country has ever seen. So why the obscurity? I can't help but think it's due, at least in part, to a conscious effort on behalf of the Secret Service to keep a lot of this story quiet. Before I read this I knew only a tiny amount about DeBardeleben, but one thing I did know was that the Secret Service was aware of his existence as a sexual predator years before he was apprehended as the Mall Passer, and that very little if anything was done to investigate further or even question him about it. This horrifically egregious oversight is skated over in the book. I know from researching other crimes that all this happened in a much different time, one in which sex crimes weren't adequately understood, responded to or even taken as seriously as they are now. But this book was first published in 1994, more than enough time during which to examine the situation with hindsight, and law enforcement's enormous failure to give DeBardeleben's sex offenses more than a cursory glance should be honestly discussed and exposed for the terrible judgment that it was. There are women and men that paid with their sanity, stability, and even their lives for that poor judgment. Despite the incredible effort the Secret Service put into making sure DeBardeleben would spend the rest of his life in prison after being caught as the Mall Passer, pretending that they didn't also essentially hand him a free pass to continue his spree of sexual torture and murder is unacceptable to me.
According to this page there is apparently a newer, updated version of this book which I would love to get my hands on. I hope it's a decent chunk of new text in the updated version, because no amount of information added to this story could be too much for me.