Anthony “Tony” Hughes was thirty-one years old. He was both deaf and mute, but that didn’t stop him from enjoying life. He knew sign language and could lip-read. He was always smiling, always cheerful. But he wasn’t naive; he was hard to fool.
On the twenty-fourth of May, 1991, Tony Hughes lost his life due to the “foreseeable but unintended consequences of the drilling technique.” (Excerpt from tstimony at the trial of Jeffrey Dahmer.)
Tony met Dahmer at a Milwaukee bar, and had known him for a while. Dahmer passed him a written invitation to come back to his flat with him in exchange for fifty dollars, and Tony apparently wrote back, “Sure.” While they were there, Tony was passed a drink laced with prescibed sleeping pills, most likely a powerful drug called Halcion. When he was unconscious, Dahmer took a drill and bored a small hole in his skull and injected acid into his cranial cavity, just as he had done with Errol Lindsey.
The difference here is that Tony never woke up.
Dahmer had not wanted this latest victim to die; he had instead wanted a “zombie-like” slave who would be subject to his will. The defending psychiatrist at his trial tried to make that sound like a good thing.
But hey-when Nazi doctors at a concentration camp sewed a pair of Romanian twins together back to back, they didn’t intend for them to die either. Their parents had to put them to sleep themselves with morphine.
Some years later, poor Anthony’s anguished mother said that Dahmer had lied in his testimony (and she was probably right): “[Tony] had four hundred dollars in his pocket that night. He didn’t need his fifty dollars.” She accused Dahmer of trying to make out her son to be some kind of prostitute, which he most definitely was not. At the trial, she read out a lovely poem that a good friend of Tony had written, part of which went, “Leave one of your tears on the windowsill, Mom/And I’ll replace it with one of mine.”
Tony Hughes’s death was terrible, and the motive even more so. This happy young man, who had been able to overcome the handicaps that life had given him, was cut down for the sake of an experiment.
Rest in peace, Mr. Hughes.