Jeremiah Weinberger-a Chicago native of Caucasian and Puerto Rican extraction-was twenty-five years old. He worked as a customer services representative in the video sales department of a cinema, and was often asked for by customers because of his good-natured personality. Easygoing and likable, it was said that he was never in a bad mood, although he was considered a little naive. He lived on the north side of the city, in an apartment he shared with others.
Jeremiah met Dahmer, the serial killer, at a bar called Carol’s Speakeasy. (Dahmer often visited Chicago because there was a better selection of nightclubs and bars.) Before he went off to Milwaukee with him-a good ninety miles away-he asked a friend what he thought of the deceptively well-mannered man. “He seems alright,” was the reply, and thus assured Jeremiah boarded a Greyhound bus with his new friend and went back to his flat with him.
Interestingly, he was actually alive the next morning. (Some sources claim he was in that flat, alive and well, for a couple of days.) However, he soon got sick of Jeff and asked to leave.
Dahmer persuaded him to stay for one more drink.
Well, you can guess what happened next. Jeremiah fell asleep, and Dahmer drilled a hole in his skull and injected boiling water into his brain. The young man soon woke up, and was coherent but groggy. Dissatisfied, Dahmer poured some more drugged liquor into him and gave him another injection, which sent poor Jeremiah into a coma. The next morning he was still unresponsive, and Dahmer tried to wake him, but failed. He decided to cut his losses for the time being and go to work.
When he got home, his latest victim was dead. Apparently, he was the only one who had died with his eyes open.
He felt bad at first-his experiment had failed-but soon shrugged it off. He disposed of the body, most likely by dumping it into the infamous acid barrel, and went about his gruesome business, same as always. He didn’t give two ticks about the fact that this was a real human being, a person, who’d just died horribly at his hands. Never did, in fact.
There was another victim of this crime, albeit an indirect one. The friend of Jeremiah’s, who had thought Dahmer to be “all right”, sank into depression upon hearing of his murder. One day, a neighbour opened their door only for him to fall across their doorstep. I believe he had attempted to kill himself and was bleeding out. He died shortly after in their arms. It was not at all his fault that Jeremiah died, but he believed to have had a part in it, and it was too much for him to bear. May he rest in peace.
And what of Jeremiah himself? He was a lovely person, even his own killer said so-“He was exceptionally affectionate. He was nice to be with.” But he got murdered anyway. What horror, what agony did he go through in his final minutes, as his brain disintegrated? He died alone and probably terrified.
And all on the whim of a madman.
Rest in peace, Mr. Weinberger.