The Last Victim_ A True-Life Journey Into the Mind of the Serial Killer - Jason Moss [71]
Thus reassured, she hung up the phone with a big smile, proud of how well she’d handled herself. She now realized that extraordinary security measures would be taken to make certain I’d be safe at all times.
There was one tiny problem with the scenario. The warden, you see, wasn’t really the warden. Gacy later admitted to me that he’d gotten one of the guards he’d befriended to pretend to be the warden so my parents would feel reassured.
To tell you the truth, I suspected something funny might be going on, but there was no way I was going to say anything and ruin this opportunity. Even if everything wasn’t set up as Gacy’s “warden” said it would be, I was confident I could handle a fat old man in handcuffs.
None of us were really aware of the extent to which Gacy had a firm hold on the prison and its staff. He was a rich man by prison standards and could basically bribe anyone to do anything. He’d been living on Death Row for fifteen years, much of that time spent in the company of prison guards he’d befriended. Thus, he was fully in control of his environment, more like a celebrated guest than a convicted murderer.
And he had all the time in the world to plan exactly what he wanted to do to me.
31
FBI
“Federal Bureau of Investigation,” the receptionist said in a voice that sounded like someone’s grandmother.
“Hello,” I said. “I was wondering if you had anyone in your office who deals with serial killers?”
“Excuse me?”
“I’m a student at the university and I’m going to visit John Wayne Gacy during my spring break. I was wondering if you had an agent who maybe dealt with these types of people.”
In a hesitant voice, she said, “Please hold one moment,” and then I got the dreaded elevator-music treatment.
“This is Special Agent Reddy.”
“Um,” I stumbled, a bit flustered now that I finally had a real FBI agent on the line. “Are you the person I should talk to about serial killers?”
“Excuse me,” he said a bit patronizingly, “but what exactly are you looking for?”
“Well . . .” I figured I had about one minute to establish my credibility or he’d hang up. “I’ve been studying and researching John Wayne Gacy, the guy who buried all the boys under his house?”
“Yes,” he said, obviously bored. “I’m familiar with who he is.”
This wasn’t going well. I took a deep breath and just dived into the story. “You see, I’ve corresponded with him over the last couple of months and he’s asked me to come and visit him. He thinks I’m this really stupid kid, and he tells me a lot of stuff. About his crimes and things. He promised me if I came to visit him, he’d tell me a lot more, things he’s never told anyone. I’m not sure what—”
“Okay, hold on a second,” he interrupted. “Let’s slow down a little. I need your name and address, your date of birth and Social Security number.”
I meekly gave him the information. I knew what he was doing. He was looking me up in the computer, probably checking to see if I was a known troublemaker.
When he got back on the phone, he seemed a little nicer. He asked me to tell him the story again, more slowly this time. He asked a lot of detailed questions about how I’d managed to strike up a relationship with Gacy and what I was after. Once I gained his trust, we had a good conversation. He even told me about his younger daughter, who also went to the university.
“I want you to call Special Agent Welcher in the Chicago field office. I’ll call her first to let her know who you are and that you’ll be contacting her. She’s the agent who deals with Gacy out there, and she’s probably the best person to help out with this. I’d urge you to make contact with her before you visit the prison.”
After waiting half a day for Reddy to give Welcher a heads-up, I called the Chicago field office and spoke to her. She was most cooperative and friendly, eager to hear my tale.
She asked me all the questions I’d grown used to: why I’d contacted Gacy and other serial killers, what