Conversation with a Killer: Anonymous
/A Conversation with a Killer
By Jack Thomas
Jack – Hello, stranger.
Stranger – Hey.
Jack – Alright. Tell the readers what this conversation is about.
Stranger – We’re going to talk about a man I killed. And how I got away with it.
Jack – My only job here is to ask the right questions. To pull this in the most interesting direction. How’d we meet?
Stranger – I emailed you.
Jack – And what did you send me?
Stranger – Newspaper clippings. Proof. A case barely mentioned. Buried.
Jack – Why?
Stranger – I read one of your interviews. A rape survivor. Thought this story would fit the tone.
Jack – This site is whatever people need it to be. You refuse to share your name. Explain why, and what else you won’t share.
Stranger – The people involved asked me to keep details secret. They don’t want this out there. No name. No town. No state.
Jack – You’re a clinical psychopath. Correct?
Stranger – Yeah.
Jack – When were you diagnosed?
Stranger – Seven or eight.
Jack – What made them study you?
Stranger – A relative died. I didn’t react the way they wanted. Therapy happened.
Jack – Define psychopathy in general. And then for you, personally.
Stranger – Generally, it’s detachment. You don’t feel emotional connections unless you choose them. Or sometimes, not at all.
Jack – What’s your personal take?
Stranger – It means I get to start with logic first.
Jack – December 31st. Take us there.
Stranger – New Year’s party. My girlfriend’s house.
Jack – Drinking?
Stranger – Yeah.
Jack – Drunk?
Stranger – Yeah.
Jack – You were nineteen. She?
Stranger – Twenty. Her family didn’t care.
Jack – When did you leave?
Stranger – 2 a.m. January 1st.
Jack – What’s the first thing you did when you got home?
Stranger – Slept. Passed out instantly.
Jack – What woke you?
Stranger – Glass shattering in the kitchen. Plates, cups.
Jack – Did you check?
Stranger – No. Figured my stepdad was drunk, broke something.
Jack – Who lived with you?
Stranger – My mom. My stepdad. Two brothers.
Jack – How long before you went to check?
Stranger – Thirty seconds. Maybe a minute.
Jack – What’s the first thing you see?
Stranger – Darkness. The kitchen light switch was behind a cheap cabinet. I flipped it.
Jack – Then?
Stranger – Soda bottles and fruit punch scattered on the floor. A red puddle. Glass everywhere.
Jack – A mess.
Stranger – Yeah. Then my mother’s voice: “What is wrong with you?”
Jack – To you?
Stranger – I thought so. I looked at her door. Open. Dark. She and my stepfather still in bed.
Jack – So who was she talking to?
Stranger – The man standing over them.
Jack – What the fuck.
Stranger – Yeah.
Jack – What happened next?
Stranger – He started hitting her. Punching. Knees to the ribs.
Jack – What did you do?
Stranger – Nothing, at first. My brain wasn’t processing it.
Jack – And then?
Stranger – My stepfather threw him. From the bed to the living room. One move. He lunged after him.
Jack – Did he fight back?
Stranger – He slammed my stepfather to the floor.
Jack – Was he okay?
Stranger – Yeah. Gave me time to grab his arm and throw him at the door. He hit it hard.
Jack – Where’s your family?
Stranger – Older brother on the phone. Younger brother hiding. Stepdad and I throw the guy outside.
Jack – End of story?
Stranger – No. He picks up a lead pipe. Starts slamming the door.
Jack – Like a zombie.
Stranger – Exactly. He wasn’t reasonable. He looked confused. Like he didn’t know why he was doing this.
Jack – He gets in?
Stranger – No. But he ripped the door off its hinges.
Jack – Holy shit.
Stranger – Yeah.
Jack – So?
Stranger – My stepdad and I held the door up. I started thinking.
Jack – About?
Stranger – Drugs. Or mental illness. Either way, he wouldn’t stop. Not today. Not ever.
Jack – And that’s when you grabbed the knife.
Stranger – Yeah.
Jack – Why?
Stranger – If he wasn’t gonna stop, and he would keep getting out of jail, he’d do this again. Maybe to me.
Jack – You were okay with going to prison?
Stranger – Yeah.
Jack – So you pull your stepdad off the door.
Stranger – Yeah.
Jack – And?
Stranger – The guy sees the knife. Eyes go wide. “No, no, no.” He backs up.
Jack – He has the pipe?
Stranger – Yeah. Doesn’t swing it.
Jack – Shock.
Stranger – Yeah.
Jack – And then?
Stranger – I stabbed him.
Jack – Just like that?
Stranger – Yeah.
Jack – Where?
Stranger – First one—stomach.
Jack – Reaction?
Stranger – None.
Jack – Drugs.
Stranger – Right.
Jack – Second stab?
Stranger – Chest. His face dropped. Sad. Confused.
Jack – And then?
Stranger – I kept going.
Jack – How many?
Stranger – Sixteen.
Jack – Sixteen.
Stranger – Yeah.
Jack – Then what?
Stranger – I went inside. Helped my mom clean the kitchen.
Jack – That’s it?
Stranger – Yeah.
Jack – He was still alive?
Stranger – Yeah. Bled out in the hallway.
Jack – Cops show?
Stranger – Half an hour later.
Jack – Arrest you?
Stranger – No. Self-defense.
Jack – Did he die?
Stranger – At the hospital.
Jack – Any consequences?
Stranger – No. His family didn’t press charges.
Jack – Why?
Stranger – He’d done it before. They knew it would happen again.
Jack – That’s it? You got away with murder?
Stranger – I went to court once. They let it slide.
Jack – How do you feel?
Stranger – Nothing. It had to happen.
Jack – Does this disconnect come from your psychopathy?
Stranger – Yeah. It’s why I saw the bigger picture.
Jack – Any last words?
Stranger – You’re not crazy. You’re different. And that scares people.
Jack – Thanks for your time.
Stranger – Thanks for having me.