Month: February 2021

THE HIGHWAYMAN FILES

PART II – THE CASE OF THE COED KILLER

When I decided to start the Highwayman series, I spent most of the creation process in the cab of a truck running up and down the road turning over ideas in my head. I coupled this with research, sometimes on audiobooks, reading true crime, and watching documentaries on the subject.

HIGHWAYMAN is a two-book project which follows the birth and evolution of a serial killer named Lance Belanger. When I started this project, I was faced with a couple of questions. The first was, “How do I want my character to be?” That’s an open-ended question. I mean, do I want Lance to be sympathetic or just plain evil? Most serial killers are evil people, but what really makes them tick? What is their reasoning for doing what they do? How do they compartmentalize their acts, and what emotions do they have that the reader can identify with?

In the case of HIGHWAYMAN, Lance Belanger knows that he is different. He shares in many of the aspirations of ordinary members of society. He has wants, needs, insecurities, and he also has regrets. While we share many of those traits, our interpretations of our wants and needs are limited by the lengths we will go to accommodate those needs. For instance, if a normal person sees something they desire, they are usually defined by an internal moral compass. They will not cross the line to steal, or rape or murder. But let’s be honest. We’ve all had thoughts. Maybe about someone we don’t like or have been slighted by. We might think, “I’d like to bash that person’s head in.” But we don’t act on it, because internally we know that is wrong. The same goes for stealing or acting on lust.

The true sociopath lacks that moral compass and is driven by a need to do the unthinkable. Case in point would be the incarcerated California Coed Killer, Edmund Kemper. Kemper was imprisoned twice for murder. On August 27, 1964, Edmund Kemper, then 15, got into an argument with his grandmother, took a rifle his grandfather had given him and shot her dead. What made Kemper cross that line is anybody’s guess. Having read about him and based on interviews he gave to FBI agents, Robert Ressler and John Douglas, I have come to the assumption that part of it was seeded in his feelings of inadequacy around women. Kemper had a strong bond with his father but was always at odds with his mother. When they divorced, Kemper lost the only person he could relate to, or that was his explanation. After killing his grandmother, he waited for his grandfather to return and shot him as well. Presumably, because grandpa would have been a witness? That might have been it, except Kemper then called his mother and confessed to the crimes. She urged him to call the police and turn himself in. He did and was taken into custody. 

Edmund Kemper had already crossed the line into the world of murder, but between 1969 and 1972 it appeared that Kemper was getting his life on track. He became briefly engaged to a 16-year-old high school student, worked for the Department of Highways and purchased a 1969 Ford Galaxy after receiving a $15,000.00 settlement for a motorcycle accident he’d been involved in.

But all was not as it seemed. Kemper began to take notice of the pretty California coeds hitchhiking in and around the university his mother worked at. In the trunk of his Ford, he kept instruments of murder and disposal. Bags, knives, guns, and handcuffs. He began dry runs, in which he would pick up female hitchhikers and let them go while easing just a little closer to his murderous fantasies.

On May 7th, 1972, fantasy morphed into reality when he picked up Mary Ann Pesce and Anita Luchessa. After driving to a secluded spot, Kemper handcuffed, raped and murdered both women. He then placed their bodies into the trunk of his car, and returned to his apartment where he took photos, dismembered their bodies, and had sex with their severed heads. He then drove out to Santa Cruz and disposed of them into a ravine on Loma Prieta Mountain. Pesce’s skull was recovered the following August, but the rest of her body and the remains of Luchessa were never recovered.

Left to right: Mary Ann Pesce and Anita Luchessa.

Kemper would go on to abduct, rape, kill and defile the corpses of his victims. On September 14th he murdered, Aiko Koo, a Korean dance student who had opted to hitchhike to class after missing her bus. On January 7th, 1973 he shot and killed Cindy Schall, who he decapitated and after keeping her head for a few days, he buried it in the garden at his mother’s home. The following month, February 5th, after a heated argument with his mother, Kemper abducted and killed Rosalind Thorpe and Allison Liu. Again, Kemper removed their heads and used them in his depraved sexual ritual. He disposed of them at Eden Canyon.

On April 20, 1973, Kemper’s mother, Clarnell Strandberg, returned from a party and her son, who was again living in her home, entered her bedroom. According to Kemper, his mother was indifferent, saying, “I suppose you’re going to want to sit up all night and talk now.”

Kemper said, “No.” Then withdrew from the room and waited for his mother to fall asleep.

He returned with a claw hammer and bludgeoned her to death in her bed. He then had sex with her head, placed it into his closet and purportedly yelled at it for an hour. He would commit other indignities, including cutting out her tongue and larynx which he attempted to destroy in the garbage disposal. He then left his mother’s home to drink and returning some hours later he invited his mother’s best friend, Sara Taylor Hallett, to come over. When she arrived, he attacked and killed her, then defiled and had sex with her corpse. After depositing her body in a closet, Kemper took Hallett’s car and fled California, driving through Nevada and Utah into Pueblo, Colorado. It was there he found a pay phone and contacted authorities. At first, they didn’t take him seriously and asked him to call back. After a few hours, Kemper did call back, asking for an officer he knew and again confessed to the murders of his mother, her friend, and the missing coeds.

Left to right: FBI Agent Robert Ressler, Serial Killer Edmund Kemper, FBI Agent John Douglas

After turning himself in and confessing to his crimes, Kemper received concurrent sentences of 7 years for each victim. He has repeatedly been denied parole and waived future hearings. Kemper stated that his murderous rampage ended with the killing of his abusive mother but claimed that he would still pose a danger to society.

In interviews with FBI agents, Robert Ressler and John Douglas, Kemper was extraordinarily forthcoming and likable. He stated that the only reason he was incarcerated was that he turned himself in. His words, “Came in out of the cold.” But Kemper would have been caught, the bodies of his mother and her best friend would eventually be found and link him to the crimes.

Ressler, in his book WHOEVER FIGHTS MONSTERS, spoke of how comfortable both he and Douglas had become with Kemper. This would later prove to be a poor judgment as Ressler, who was alone with Kemper, wrapped the latest interview and was waiting for the guards to let him out. After ringing the bell, with no response, Ressler waited uneasily.

That was when Kemper told him, “Relax, they’re changing shifts, feeding the guys in the secure areas. Might be fifteen, twenty minutes before they come and get you.” After pausing, Kemper said something that alarmed Ressler. “If I went apeshit in here, you’d be in a lot of trouble. I could screw your head off, and place it on the table to greet the guard.”

For the next 30 minutes, until the guards arrived, Kemper and Ressler jousted verbally. Ressler stating that FBI Agents don’t come to interviews unprepared. While Kemper countered, “They don’t let anybody bring guns in here.”

Kemper was a giant of a man, who could have easily overpowered and killed Ressler. After that, the FBI instituted a policy that two agents were to be with a prisoner during all future interviews.

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That communication, with the likable forthcoming Edmund Kemper, was a wakeup call regarding psychopaths. They are master manipulators, disarming is a part of their arsenal, and it wasn’t the first time Kemper used his charm. After abducting Aiko Koo, Kemper locked himself out of the Ford Galaxy but managed to convince Koo to let him back into the car. He killed Koo after regaining entry to the vehicle. Gaining the trust of his victims and authorities is something Kemper does very well. The interaction between the two, in those very long 30 minutes, fed into one of Kemper’s fantasies of instilling fear.

FBI agent, Robert Ressler died May 5th, 2013, after a lengthy battle with Parkinson’s Disease. Edmund Kemper remains at the California Medical Facility in Vacaville, California. He is considered a model prisoner, who narrates audio books for the blind. It is unlikely he will ever be released.

Kemper is one of a long list of serial killers who I researched when I decided to start the HIGHWAYMAN BOOKS. What stuck out for me was the relaxed nature of this man responsible for the killing of 10 known victims. What also resonated was his ability to manipulate his psychiatrists, both while incarcerated and even the psychologist who treated him during his release and run up to the coed killings. They didn’t have a clue. Kemper, like Ted Bundy, had a charm that hid the horrific intentions of the monster lurking behind the mask. In jailhouse interviews for the documentaries, THE KILLING OF AMERICA and NO APPARENT MOTIVE, Kemper is charming, engaging and comes off as cured of his homicidal tendencies, having ended them with the killing of his mother and turning himself in. But that is the mask he wears, and the monster that feeds on his fantasies is alive and well.

In the present day, we have turned some of these killers into pop culture icons. Charles Manson’s glowering face can be found on silk-screened shirts and posters. Fictional characters like Dexter Morgan portray sympathetic serial killers, driven to kill while conflicted by a moral code. Then there’s Edmund Kemper, who has been made a household name after the release of the NETFLIX semi-fictional series MIND HUNTER. I say semi-fictional because screenwriters have taken a lot of liberty with the original book written by John Douglas and Mark Olshaker. Make no mistake, I am not being self-righteous. I have no illusions that these are the monsters that inspire fiction. But I will admit that I was disappointed with the deviation and historical errors purposely written into the Mind Hunter storyline.

We, writers, draw from a pond of murder and mayhem to create the fictional characters in our stories. Or at least I do. Edmund Kemper was one among many subjects which I researched before beginning the Highwayman project.

In my next blog, I will be visiting another case from those research files.

See you then.

M.J. Preston

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Ice Road Dispatches

Yuri and the Wolves

It’s no secret that I was an ice trucker. Between 2012 and 2016, I drove the world’s longest ice road pulling fuel from Yellowknife north to a couple of diamond mines just below the arctic circle. As a result, I’ve got a few stories to tell.

This is my public memoir of those events.

ENTRY # 1 – YURI AND THE WOLVES!

Winter Road – 2013

The story I am about to tell you was related to me by an ice trucker at the Ekati diamond mine midway into my second year on the ice. I’d already heard the story. Every trucker on ice was talking about it on the VHS radio, giving their version of events.

“Wolves! Wolves on a portage!  A whole pack of em!”

On my way up the ice, I heard a different version of the event from every passing convoy we met. Two popped up in the story. Cliff and Yuri. When I reached the Ekati Diamond sometime after midnight, we unloaded our fuel, parked our rigs, and went to the cafeteria to get a bite. We’d been into it almost for almost 18 hours, from start to end. We needed to get some food and shut down for sleep before heading south to get another load.

When we got inside, I saw Yuri finishing up his meal and wandered over.

“Hey, Yuri, what’s this about wolves?”

In his heavy Russian accent, he said, “I will come to your table and tell you.”

I got some soup and a sandwich and sat down.

Yuri joined us, but he never sat down. Instead, he stood before a captive audience as he recounted a harrowing evening.

It was night, and a driver, named Cliffy, spun out and needed to chain up. The problem was, Cliffy wasn’t precisely what you’d call a spring chicken. In situations like this, drivers pitch in and set out to help others. Whether chaining up, helping to cage brakes, chase air leaks, or any other problem on the ice, there is an unwritten duty.

So when Cliffy asked for a hand and gave his location, Yuri took the call, got his gear on from hard hat to winter gear, and set out to help Cliffy with his chains. The distance between Cliff and Yuri was at least a kilometer. Yuri was out of his truck and walking up the road that cut across the portage in the darkness. The winds were up, cutting across the tundra, making the temperatures all the more brutal. You can feel the elements pinching at exposed skin in this environment, turning it stiff and numb. At night, without the sun, temperatures can drop into the -50s.

Not long after Yuri started walking across the portage to help fellow driver Cliffy, he felt like he was being watched. Between the stunted trees on the portages, shadows moved low and fast. He kept moving with communication up the trail, midway between himself and Cliffy, passing the point of no return.

Over the VHF radio, Scarlet security sent out an order to everyone on the portage. “Stay in your trucks. There is a pack of wolves on the portage.”

The warning came too late for Yuri. He was over halfway to Cliff’s truck when something stepped out of the darkness and onto the road behind him. He turned to see an enormous wolf. One can only wonder if the wolf was sizing up Yuri as a potential threat; or a delectable meal. The great wolf was staring him down, to his right, in the inky darkness shadows moved. They were watching what he was going to do, waiting for him to react.

Yuri reached up and turned on his hard hat light. The wolf held firm, and slowly Yuri began to back up the trail working his way toward Cliff’s position.

“Go away, wolf,” he bellowed, which I speculate was most likely in Russian, but I never asked.

The likely wolf was probably hearing, “Blah Blah Blah!”

Yuri kept backing up, making noise, yelling―the wolf behind him followed at an equal pace― the pack moved in the shadows and waiting for direction from the pack leader. Yuri was sure that if he turned and ran, they would be on him, knocking him down, going for the throat. He would be dead if they all came at him because nobody knew he was out there. Yuri hadn’t reported on the radio that he was leaving his truck to go and help Cliff. He was alone, just him and the wolves.

“I thought I was going to die,” he told me.

He kept backing up. His only weapon was the headlight on his hard hat and his voice. He kept yelling, making noise, terrified to turn, and still, the wolf followed, seemingly unafraid. Then to his relief, he heard the rumbling of a diesel engine behind him. The wolf stopped as Yuri continued walking backward.

Then he was beside the passenger door of Cliff’s disabled but running rig.

He grabbed the door handle and climbed in without knocking to provoke an invitation.

Cliff was sitting in the driver’s seat. He was surprised to see Yuri. “Yuri,” Cliff said. “What are you doing outside? Didn’t you know there’s a pack of wolves running around out there?”

Yuri, whose voice was now hoarse and raw from yelling at the wolves, had no words.

***

THE HIGHWAYMAN FILES

PART I – THE MONSTERS WHO WALK AMONG US

I have always had an interest in true-crime and the enigma of serial murder. In writing, I often find myself drawn to the serial killer as the definitive monster. Mostly, because they’re real, which makes them more terrifying than DRACULA or the zombies of THE WALKING DEAD. The difference is, that those creatures aren’t real. They can be explained away by a parent’s soothing words or extinguished by a crack in the bedroom door or a night light.

But what of the predators that walk among us? The monsters who cannot be bargained with, whose souls are without mercy or conscience? They are the stuff of nightmares, terrifying and unrelenting, knowing no bounds in their craving for torture and murder. That is what makes them so chilling. Why they inspire the monsters of literature and film. They are enigmatic, loathsome, robotic, and unremorseful. But as already stated, they walk among us every day. I read extensively on these real-life monsters while doing research for written works, finding myself inspired by the depravity and humbled by the tragedy. Let me tell you a bit about what I have found and experienced.

THE GHOUL OF PLAINSFIELD

“I like this place, everybody treats me nice, some of them are a little crazy, though.”

 — Ed Gein referring to his incarceration at the Mendota Mental Health Institute

Ed Gein has inspired authors like, Robert Bloch [PSYCHO,] Thomas Harris [SILENCE OF THE LAMBS,] and filmmakers like Tobe Hooper [THE TEXAS CHAINSAW MASSACRE.] Serial killers are the real monsters that walk among us. They hide in plain sight, predators who feed on fear, torture, and death. They lack conscience and are usually master manipulators. Gein was the extreme of decadence. When authorities entered his home in Plainfield, Illinois, they found soup bowls fashioned from human skulls, a belt made of nipples, lips hanging from a drawstring on Venetian blinds. When police entered his barn, they found the body of missing store clerk Bernice Worden. Authorities had been drawn to the farm after they discovered a receipt for anti-freeze filled out to Ed Gein by Worden at the hardware store where she had disappeared. Little did they know that this ghoulish little man would be the inspiration for so much horror in the future.

HELTER SKELTER

“These children that come at you with knives–they are your children. You taught them. I didn’t teach them. I just tried to help them stand up.” –Charles Manson

I remember when I was a kid back in the 1970s, and my mother had a copy of HELTER SKELTER by Vincent Bugliosi and Curt Gentry lying around. I picked it up and began reading. While Charles Manson wasn’t a serial killer, he was most assuredly a psychopath and his cult, THE FAMILY were a terrifying bunch. I was 11 years old when I began reading about the 1969 murders of the Tate–LaBiancas. Strange that a kid would be drawn to such a book, but I’d already read THE EXORCIST, and I absolutely loved horror movies, but HELTER SKELTER scared me. When they aired the television movie, I watched it with my mother, and I was afraid to go to sleep. You see, not all of Manson’s family was locked up when the television miniseries aired in 1976, and I was fearful that cult members might come calling to my home. My mom assured me that they were thousands of miles away and eventually, with the door open a crack, I fell asleep.

I’d also had two brushes with such evil in my youth. One confirmed, the other speculative.

THE ROSEDALE MURDERS

“I shot them and stabbed them in the heart to make sure they were dead. It all happened very quickly. I threw the bodies into the river.” –Walter Murray Madsen

Rosedale Killer: Walter Murray Madsen

In the 1970s four teenagers were murdered by a stranger on British Columbia’s Fraser River outside the town of Rosedale. Everyone knew about the killings. My older brother had gone to school with the victims. We were all talking about it. One evening after the murders, myself and a friend were camping in his backyard in a pup tent. I said to my friend that maybe we should stay A picture containing building, outdoor, street, person

Description automatically generatedinside because the Rosedale Killer [a name coined by the media] was still at large. My friend replied, “He’s miles from here.”

Two houses down, the police arrested a young man on that same night. His name was Walter Murray Madsen, and he was charged with the murders. I would recount this night in an essay titled: THE OLD MAN IN THE RAIN. In the piece, I recounted the evening of the arrest and the aftermath in which I followed the killer’s father down Yale Road East after the arrest. Madsen’s father was also a victim of his son’s rampage and would die not long after the arrest from what would be deemed as natural causes. But I am sure that the shock of his son’s act played a role in his passing by elevated stress. We forget that the families of criminals are often casualties themselves.

THE BEAST OF BRITISH COLUMBIA

If I gave a shit about the parents, I wouldn’t have killed the kid.

–Clifford Olsen

Clifford Olsen

In the early 80s, a serial child killer was abducting young girls and boys and killing them in the lower mainland of British Columbia. On one such night, a friend of mine and I were down by the Chilliwack River in a truck doing what teenagers do, and I decided to have some fun. We both knew there was a serial killer at large, so freaking my friend out seemed like a great idea.

I thumped on the inside of the door and said, “What was that?”

My friend, whom I’ll call Danny, said, “Quit screwing around.”

Then something scary happened.

Somebody banged on the side of the truck, and I almost jumped out of my skin.

Again, Danny said, “Quit screwing around.”

“I’m not!”

He turned on the backup lights, and this scruffy looking guy came walking up the side of the truck. He had unkempt hair, a half-grown beard, and he was stalky. He walked right by the passenger window peering in at us. His eyes were piercing, his face emotionless, and my heart was thudding like a jackhammer. He continued by into the amber headlight array of the ’69 FORD pickup.

Once he was a safe distance away, maybe 75 feet, I stuck my head out the window, and called to him, “Hey man, you scared the shit out of us!” He turned back and held us in his gaze, then carried on down to the river. Danny threw the truck in reverse, and we got the hell out of there.

On August 12, 1981, a serial killer named Clifford Olsen was arrested, and charged with the murder of 11 children ranging in age from 9 to 18 years old. One of his victims was recovered from a remote location on the Chilliwack River. I can’t say for sure if it was Clifford Olsen we encountered that night, but I have always wondered. Olsen bore an uncanny resemblance to the stranger who had spooked us that evening.

When I decided to write my third and fourth book, I knew that I would be going back to the enigma of serial murder. I immersed myself in that world and the police that hunted them. I had already read a lot of true crime by authors like Ann Rule, Park Deitz, Robert Ressler, John Douglas and hundreds of others.

In fact, at one point, in reading true crime, I had to put it down for a while. The content was incredibly disturbing. Some of it involved the killing of children, some of it was about dismemberment, necrophilia, cannibalism, the use of sex organs or appendages like feet for deviant sexual practice. I read about monsters like, Jeffrey Dahmer, Henry Lee Lucas, Ottis Toole, and scores of others who had crossed the line that separates good from evil.

I thought I knew everything there was to know about these killers.

Meet Lance Belanger, he has only one ambition. To be the most prolific serial killer of all time! You wanna take a ride?

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THE DELIBERATE STRANGER

“Murder is not about lust and it’s not about violence. It’s about possession. When you feel the last breath of life coming out of the woman, you look into her eyes. At the point, it’s being God.”

–Ted Bundy

Serial Killer Ted Bndy
Florida Photographic Collection

Probably America’s most notorious serial killer would be Ted Bundy. I had read Ann Rule’s book, THE STRANGER BESIDE ME, but then I picked up a book by author Kevin M. Sullivan called: THE BUNDY MURDERS: A Comprehensive History. Sullivan delved deeper into Bundy’s history uncovering new evidence, giving a criminological account of the monster that was Theodore Robert Bundy. I knew that Bundy was a rapist-killer, but I had either forgotten or was being newly schooled on the absolute depravity of this killer. A bold psychopath, Bundy was known to abduct some of his victims from the safety of their homes. Even in broad daylight, amongst 100s of potential witnesses, in Lake Sammamish, WA, Bundy lured not one, but two young women on the same day using a ruse in which he wore a cast on his arm and asked for help to load a sailboat onto his car. After abducting and raping the first woman, Janice Ott, 23, he returned to Lake Sam [sic] and abducted a second young woman, Denice Naslund, 19. Years later A picture containing person, person, wall, indoor

Description automatically generatedhe would confess to killing one woman in front of the other to heighten his sexual thrill by elevating fear in the other. Bundy not only tortured raped and murdered his victims but had a taste for necrophilia. Bundy sometimes decapitated his victims, keeping their heads to use in necrophiliac acts. He was one of those rare monsters that move among us, seemingly ordinary, but behind the mask, a monster in its purest predatory form waits to feed.

After being apprehended and tried for a kidnapping attempt, Bundy would escape twice. First by leaping from a courthouse law library window. Bundy would remain at large from Jun 7th to 13th in 1977. After becoming lost and traversing the forest unsuccessfully for a week, he eventually stole a car and was apprehended by two officers in Aspen, Colorado. On December 30th of 1977, Bundy would mount his second escape. Thanks in part to the lax jailers and a broken light fixture, Bundy climbed out of his cell into the ceiling above. This would lead him to the apartment of the chief jailer and freedom. After breaking through the ceiling of the apartment, Bundy stole items and successfully escaped, this time he went to Florida. There he would melt into the environment he felt most comfortable in. Bundy rented a room in a boarding house under the alias, Chris Hagen, he was in the heart of Tallahassee’s university district.

Considered a methodical planner when it came to murder, Bundy was able to evade detection in the past, but the monster that drove him had begun to take over. In a heightened state of homicidal frenzy, Bundy entered the Chi Omega sorority house at Florida State University and went on a spree of rape and murder. He raped and killed two women and severely injured another two. But he didn’t stop there. After leaving Chi Omega, Bundy attacked another FSU student in her apartment, and likely would have killed her, if not for neighbors who had heard the student cry out and reciprocated by calling to her through the apartment wall. Bundy fled the apartment, but not before severely beating the woman and masturbating on her bed. He would escape detection on this evening, returning to the boarding house, but his reign of terror was not yet at a climax.

On February 8th, 1978, Bundy would first attempt to abduct a 14-year-old, but this was thwarted by the young girl’s older brother intervening and asking questions. The young man even jotted down the license plate of Bundy’s stolen vehicle. Unfulfilled, Bundy continued to troll and would abduct his final victim, Kimberley Diane Leach, 12, from Lake City Junior High School.

Bundy would be apprehended on February 12th driving a stolen Volkswagen in Pensacola Florida, but he didn’t go down without a fight. The officer, David Lee, was knocked down by Bundy who attempted to escape, but after a struggle, that included a single gunshot by the officer, Bundy was taken into custody. Transporting his prisoner to jail, and completely unaware of his notoriety, Lee heard Bundy say, “I wish you had killed me.”

Ted Bundy met his fate in the Florida electric chair on January 24th, 1984. At the end of his life, he confessed to the killings for which he was suspected, 30 in total. But authorities alleged that Bundy may have killed many more, possibly as many as 100 women.

Even in his final moments, Bundy remained a master manipulator. Having become a born-again Christian, Bundy blamed his killing as being rooted in the evils of pornography in an interview with Dr. James Dobson, a pastor with the organization FOCUS ON THE FAMILY. He claimed that his early exposure to pornography seeded a growing madness that demanded to be fed. Having started with pornographic images, that included bondage and sadomasochism, he stated that he evolved from a voyeur whose dark fantasies intensified until he resorted to rape and murder. While there may have been a kernel of truth in Bundy’s last interview, his manipulative nature contrasted by millions of others who did not take the same path after being exposed to similar pornography casts doubt on his sincerity.

On January 24th, 1989, Theodore Robert Bundy was strapped into the electric chair and died after being executed. Outside the prison walls, a crowd of 500 celebrated his end, while a smaller group of anti-death penalty advocates protested it. The night before is reported to be a night of weeping and praying on Bundy’s part, little consolation to the families of the 30+ women and children whose lives he extinguished.

ART IMITATES LIFE

Writers often base their fictional stories on the monsters who walk among us. In SILENCE OF THE LAMBS by Thomas Harris, serial killer, Buffalo Bill uses the ruse of wearing a cast and struggling with loading a couch into a van to lure and abduct a victim. Ted Bundy regularly wore a cast and used a story in several scenarios where he abducted and killed women. Harris also touched the character of Ed Gein, in which Buffalo Bill, a frustrated transvestite, denied gender reassignment surgery for psychological reasons His solution was making himself a woman suit fashioned from human skin. As stated at the beginning of this writing, Gein had a fascination with the dead, especially the sex organs of the female anatomy.

Harris, Bloch, Hooper, and countless others have drawn their own fictional characters from the pages and documentaries of the crimes that haunt us. I am no different in that regard. My first book drew from the evils of child killers Dean Corll and John Gacy. The Highwayman series follows the trail of a serial killer who crosses America in search of victims to feed not only his homicidal cravings but his ego in becoming as infamous as Bundy.

We the public have a fascination with the monsters that walk among us. We read and sometimes write variations on their deeds. Even making movies and television programs that mirror the real-life horror. In the interim, as we go to the well of information to draw inspiration and research, a new generation of monsters, move out of the shadows and into the anonymity of society ready to strike and kill.

In my next blog, we will look a little closer at one such monster.

I hope you’ll join me.

M.J. Preston – The Voyeur

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CHECK OUT THE HIGHWAYMAN SERIES AND TAKE A RIDE WITH A RISING STAR IN THE WORLD OF SERIAL MURDER

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