The Last Victim_ A True-Life Journey Into the Mind of the Serial Killer - Jason Moss [90]
I continued to press him to talk about the horrific things he’d done. He looked sheepish, like a little boy who’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Finally, he replied that his lawyers told him never to talk about the cases as long as he had pending appeals.
I looked him directly in the eyes and didn’t say a word. I didn’t have to. He sported a rather large grin on his face and said, “A guy’s gotta have his fun, right?”
It seemed like he wanted to confide in me. Given enough time, I figured I could get him to tell me anything. I made a mental note to begin a correspondence with him when I got back home.
It was almost pitiful the way he reached out to me, suggesting we could be friends. Koko had mutilated eight women—at least!—and suddenly I began feeling guilty for leading him on. He mentioned to me that one of the first things he’d do after his case was reversed on appeal—he had to hope for something—was look me up so we could share a few beers. He wanted to know if I’d introduce him to my family.
That question really caught me off balance. The underlying question—the question beneath the question, as it were—seemed to be: did I really care about him, or was I just talking to him to entertain myself?
I wondered at the time, and have wondered many times since, what a friend of Andrew Kokoralies was expected to do. Would he want me to be his new gang leader? Would we patrol college campuses together, asking coeds to have sex with us, and if they didn’t respond favorably, rape and kill them? The thought of his walking the streets again was frightening.
I was about to answer the family question when Ken poked his head through the doorway. “John is ready for you now,” he said.
It was time to crawl back into his cage.
40
Goodbye
Lunchtime again. Two more hours with Gacy before I’d be rid of him. As I reentered his cell, I was determined to maintain control, to get through the next session. Whatever he had planned, I knew it would be drawn out as long as possible. The pleasure for him was in playing with his victims, not in the actual killing. As long as he believed I was coming back, I was reasonably sure I’d be safe. I couldn’t let him know that returning the next day for another bout of “Will he or won’t he?” was out of the question.
As we sat having a quiet lunch, the scene seemed almost tranquil compared to the earlier histrionics. I decided to take the offensive.
“John, why did you do all that shit before? Why do you have to scare me like that?”
He ignored my question altogether, attempting to reestablish his dominance. “You know that fucking your brother is against the law,” he said. “You could go to jail for that, and your brother could get sent to a home. Do you want to see your brother again?”
Here we go again, I thought. This guy is relentless. When one kind of threat didn’t work, he just used another. I took a deep breath and for the last time slipped into my role.
“Please, John,” I begged with just the right touch of panic. “You wouldn’t do that to me, would you?” My mind was suddenly racing with the possibilities. Although I’d meticulously documented all of my tall tales, I wondered if Gacy could create problems for me. I could just see the tabloid headlines: “Honors Student Caught in Love Triangle with Younger Brother and Serial Killer.”
I realized Gacy had been building a case against me all this time, gathering leverage he could use if he ever needed it. The only problem, of course, is that he still had no idea that every scenario I’d spoon-fed him was fictitious. As much as I wanted to throw this back in his face, I maintained my restraint.
“John,” I said softly, showing appropriate deference, “could we talk about what your life in prison is like? I mean, if you want to and all.”
He explained in great detail his notion of positive mental attitude, the creed he’d shared with Koko. Essentially, his strategy was to accept