Just now, I was listening to an excerpt from the interview Stone Philips did with Jeffrey Dahmer, the damned murderer of seventeen men and boys. I didn’t listen to all of it-he was bleating on about his childhood, and I don’t have time for his whining-but one thing did strike me.
In the interview, Dahmer speaks in a slow, morose, static monotone, with no emotion whatsoever. He seems like a fairly calm fellow on the outside. If you met him in, say, a bus station, or a bar, you wouldn’t think him to be a threat. As a matter of fact, he appeared to be falling asleep as I watched him.
But then, I thought of all those faces he’d put on the obituary pages. That same harmless Wisconsin drawl conveyed things like “I’ll pay you fifty dollars,” “Do you want a drink?” and “It’s okay, officer….he’s my house guest.”
He was probably just as emotionless while he was watching Jamie Doxtator slowly fall asleep under the influence of drugs.
He was definitely as calm and collected as he was seeing police officers out of his apartment, smoothly assuring them that Konerak Sinthasomphone, sitting mute and still on his living-room couch, was going to be fine.
And that harmless, I-couldn’t-hurt-a-fly-honestly manner of his lured sweet, affectionate Jeremiah Weinberger into his horrible little flat.
And there’s another thing. He had a certain low cunning when choosing his victims-why chance your arm with the savvy clubber in his twenties, surrounded by his friends, when there’s a confused fifteen-year-old standing on his own outside? Why try your lines on a suspicious city man who’s been warned about you, when there are young men a quick bus ride away looking for money and attention? That’s how he worked. Like all predators of his ilk, he had an uncanny knack for spotting the lonely, the friendless, and the desperate-in short, the very ones who wouldn’t really be missed by the authorities.
And look at the bugger now! There are insane women (and a few men) all over the place who have expressed desires to die at his hands! (Shout-out to any one of those people who might be reading this: A few other guys got there before you. Apparently gruesome murder isn’t as fun as it sounds on the Web. Might want to rethink your priorities.) There is a young lady on deviantArt who has made a comic strip starring Dahmer and Bundy. Well, she says it’s about Dahmer and Bundy. They seem more like the main characters out of I Love You Philip Morris. But I digress.
What I can’t understand is why those fanatics would choose Dahmer over, say, Konerak, or Ricky Beeks, or any of the others. All quite good-looking, all with very sad stories-and best of all, they’re not sadistic murderers. They deserve love, and adoration, and comic strips, don’t they?
I just don’t understand. When it comes to this stuff, I never do.