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“What are we supposed to tell our friends you’re doing lately?” my mother complained. “‘Oh, nothing much. He’s got a new friend, though. John Gacy. Perhaps you’ve heard of him? Tortured and killed thirty-three boys about Jason’s age. But I understand he’s very nice when he’s in a good mood.’”

My father added his own concerns. “Don’t you worry people might think you’re a little strange, writing to killers?” Eventually realizing that his argument was falling on deaf ears, he pleaded, “Jason, why don’t you start going back to the gym again?”

“Dad, I’m going to learn a lot of cool stuff if this works out. So what if other people wouldn’t try this? You know I’m not like everyone else. Why are you trying to make me act like everyone else?”

One cool, fall night I followed my father outside so he could smoke a cigarette. We stood in the backyard, moving around to stay warm. “Jason,” he said, “you’re going to do whatever you want. I know that. But Mom doesn’t like this idea, and it’s going to cause trouble around the house. I can already feel it.”

I felt sorry for him. He was always catching flak for the things I dreamed up.

“Dad, you know Mom is against almost everything I try. Why should this be any different? I promise I won’t let it get out of hand.”

But “out of hand” is what it eventually got.

The response from Gacy suggested that if I did my homework carefully, I could get inside the mind of anybody. Already, I started thinking about other serial killers I might contact, but I was getting ahead of myself: first I had to capture Gacy’s interest.

I knew that my next hurdle was to get through his primitive “psychological test” in such a way that I’d not only “pass” but that he’d fight to be my mentor and teacher. I needed to fill out the items in such a way that I’d sound genuine and sincere, yet very confused and vulnerable.

I reviewed what I knew about Gacy, and what I suspected was the case. Although he claimed to be bisexual, I knew that he’d stopped having sex with women just about the time he began his two-year killing spree. As for what I suspected: obviously, he’d be against the death penalty, he’d have some fairly liberal attitudes about sex, and he’d be especially attracted to someone who was easily controlled.

I crafted my responses with the same meticulous care that I devoted to a pivotal term paper. One question asked me about my impression of the “perfect man or woman.” I crossed out “woman” and wrote in “partner” instead, so it would seem that I might be inclined toward bisexuality or homosexuality. I added that my partner would have to be kind, sensitive, sincere, funny, and good-looking. I tried to make my responses as ambiguous as I could so I’d have some flexibility later to alter my beliefs, depending on what evolved. I was really just operating in the dark, even though I’d gathered some good intelligence.

There was one question that began: “Nobody knows I’m ______.” I decided I should throw in something provocative to get his wheels spinning. I answered: “. . . thinking about being a nude dancer to earn extra money.” In my mind, this accomplished the following: First, it let him know that I had an attractive body and wasn’t inhibited about flaunting it. Second, it suggested I wasn’t above selling my body—which, undoubtedly, would play into his incredible rage toward boy hustlers. I remembered, for example, that a hustler by the name of Donald Voorhees was responsible for Gacy’s early conviction for sodomy. Thereafter, from what I could determine, most of Gacy’s victims shared physical characteristics with Voorhees.

I tried to answer every item on the questionnaire in a way that I believed would entice Gacy. I was like a fly fisherman who’d felt the tiniest tug on the line, and was trying to shake the fly in a way that would get the fish to take the hook.

11

Setting Bait

It had been several days since I’d mailed in the questionnaire and I wondered how long it would take for Gacy to reply.