• Choose a category
• All
• Classic-Fiction

“Come on, Jason, get over the chair here,” he said, pointing to the empty seat. “You’ll be a little bloody, but that’s nothing. A real man can take pain, especially from another man.”

It was at this point that I completely broke down. I’d like to say it was an act, that I faked tears to win his sympathy. In all honesty, though, I just lost control. Some part of me realized that Gacy was showing himself to me in all his glory because he knew I wouldn’t be alive to tell anyone.

“John,” I gasped out now through sobs, tears streaming down my face, “you said we were friends. Why are you doing this to me?”

Abruptly, he sat down and looked at me with disgust. His erection had now wilted and he tucked it back into his pants. “What the fuck are you doing here? Just get out of here.”

“John,” I pleaded, “you know that’s not what I want.” Incredibly, rather than saying, “John, that’s the best suggestion you’ve made all day,” I was obeying my internal programming—an inner voice that preached “success at any cost.” I couldn’t bear aborting my three-day visitation with Gacy without having cracked his “code.” I couldn’t bear the realization that coming to Illinois had been all for naught.

We were both emotionally exhausted at this point, and both frustrated because neither had gotten what we were after. Thankfully, our first day together was about to draw to a close and it was hard to visualize coming back for the second. Gacy seemed to sense my reluctance, because suddenly he turned the charm back on. All smiles, he invited the guards to join us and had them take several photographs.

I was just about to say goodbye and scurry on out of there when he took me aside and furtively handed me a pair of bikini briefs he’d stashed in his own underwear. “Would you wear these for me tomorrow?” he asked in a pitifully pleading voice. He then pulled from his sock a silver bracelet and handed it to me. He also mentioned that he had a new painting he’d give me the next day. His 180-degree shift threw me off balance.

Walking out of the prison that day, everything was a blur. One minute I was awkwardly thanking Gacy for his hospitality, the next I was standing in the parking lot waiting for Ken to pick me up.

On the drive back to the motel, I shared some of what I’d gone through. Ken seemed shocked by my story, but he couldn’t have been too surprised because he took me at my word.

“Please, Jason,” he pleaded. “Don’t say a word about this to anyone. It could really hurt John’s chances for an appeal, or a postponement of his execution.”

“Give me a break!” I responded. “He actually threatened to rape and kill me! There’s no way I’m going back in a cell with that lunatic!”

“But this has never happened before,” Ken insisted. “Most of the people who visit him are older. They’re reporters and lawyers and stuff and he’s always been—”

“I don’t care!” I said loudly enough to make him cringe. “The guy is crazy.”

“You just triggered something in him. I don’t know. You’re just like the boys he killed.”

If I had any doubts about where Ken stood before, I didn’t any longer. He admitted his belief that Gacy had committed all the crimes he’d been accused of. In a way, hearing this from him was a relief. That meant I didn’t have to play games with him. I could confide in him, even get his advice on what I should do.

We both agreed that all those years of being kept in his cell, only allowed visits from attorneys and some family, kept Gacy looking normal to all who observed him. Seeing me had apparently caused him to relapse, as if a day hadn’t gone by since his last murder. What I took for granted as “John acting crazy” was a side of him no one had apparently viewed in fifteen years.

That evening, despite the terror I’d felt at the prison, the thought that tormented me was what a failure I’d be if I gave up. How could I face my family and friends? I’d look so . . . so ineffectual if I let Gacy get the best of me. I couldn’t remember ever feeling as low. Here I thought I’d set the agenda, control the conversation,