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The Last Victim_ A True-Life Journey Into the Mind of the Serial Killer - Jason Moss [14]

By Root 745 0
far better than reading about this world any day.

Rico seemed to have had enough of the conversation. We’d now run over the agreed-upon half hour anyway. He looked at me directly and asked, “Does this talk turn you on? I’d fuck you if you want to experiment. A lot of guys will pay me, and still won’t admit they’re fags.”

“No. I’m not gay,” I told him. “This really is just for school.”

Well, at least the first part was truthful. I didn’t feel too bad, though, because Rico had been fairly paid for his time.

For what I had in mind, it was important that I be able to speak convincingly in a way that Gacy would never question. I knew I had to be careful in everything that I wrote because I figured he had nothing to do all day except carefully scrutinize every word that arrived by letter.

So much for my strategy. I had more research to do, more interviews, more reading, more reflecting on how I would craft the first letter to attract Gacy’s attention.

As I look back at all that unfolded during the next year, there’s no way I could have possibly predicted what would result from this first step. It never occurred to me as I was creating a means to manipulate, control, and open up a collection of the world’s most notorious serial killers that it would be I who was ultimately controlled and manipulated.

6


A Question of Motive

People always ask me why I do things that, to any normal person, are “over the top.” Though self-analysis is only as good as the analyzer, let me try to take a stab at explaining my motivation.

Fear is a big theme in my life. Always has been. And every time I confront someone or something that makes me uneasy, my second impulse (after stifling the urge to run) is to study the source of my anxiety in an attempt to control it.

As regards this plan to gain the confidence of several serial killers, it felt like if I could fool someone like Gacy, if I could manage him and others like him, then I’d be protected against harm. This was magical thinking, I know— even irrational. But when this whole thing began, this was the only motive I could clearly articulate to myself even if it didn’t satisfy others. “Tell me again, Jason,” I often heard from friends, “why are you wasting your time preparing to write letters to killers, instead of coming with us to the party?”

What I realized is that the only answer people would accept was that I was working on a research project for school. In fact, this turned out to be true.

For my political science class, we had to do a research paper on some facet of the discipline. We had a brief section on capital punishment in the textbook, so I figured if I asked some actual killers how they felt about the subject, it might add some legitimacy to what was otherwise a pretty harebrained scheme. I also figured that, given the unique quotes that would be layered in, the paper couldn’t help earning a high grade.

After class one afternoon, I decided to run my idea past the professor to see what he thought. I could feel the presence of two or three other students behind me, listening, as I described what I had in mind.

“Professor Gillman, I was thinking about doing my research paper on capital punishment and—”

“Well, that’s great,” he interrupted me. “But the paper is not due until four months from now.” He was dismissing me and already moving on to the next student.

I hurriedly continued. “I know, but I usually like to get an early start.” I had his attention again. “What I want to know is if it would be all right if I focused the paper on capital punishment from the prisoners’ viewpoint?”

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“I was going to write some condemned killers and find out as much as I could about how they felt on the issue. I thought that would be a unique angle, and would make for an interesting paper. Don’t you think?”

He didn’t seem impressed. In fact, he looked annoyed, although I had no idea why. “I think there’s enough research out there on capital punishment without you doing all this unnecessary poking.”

Poking, I remember thinking. Is that all I’d be

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