Richard Guerrero was flat-out skint when he met up with Dahmer on the twenty-fourth of March, 1988. He had the sum total of three dollars in his pocket. So, when Dahmer floated an offer of fifty dollars for a couple of hours of Richard’s time, he accepted….and was never seen again.
Richard was an easy target for Dahmer. He was quite handsome, weighed a slender one hundred and twenty pounds and stood at five foot six inches. Dahmer, meanwhile, was over six foot tall, worked out regularly, and on top of that was probably drunk. Jeff drank like a desperate, overburdened fish, and had been doing so since the age of thirteen. Richard never had a chance.
A few years later, after Dahmer had been locked away and the authorities were researching the legal ramifications of attaching his cell to a rocket and firing it into the sun, Richard’s heartbroken relatives had their say. His father, Pablo Guerrero, said that he was “evil, the devil himself,” a statement I wholeheartedly agree with. But his sister Janie Hagen’s plea for information on the death of her brother is truly heart-wrenching: “I want to know what he did with my brother. I heard on the news that maybe my brother had been flushed down the toilet. I want to know.”
Did Jeff ever tell her?
Do pigs play checkers?
Let me just shout out to any Dahmer fangirls who might be reading this: so far, Jeff’s killed four people. One of them was only a young teenager-maybe like yourselves. Detectives will only find the remains of one.
Look at your fanart, your fanfiction, your poetry, and ask yourself: is this REALLY the man you want to worship?
God rest your loyal soul, Richard Guerrero.