Jonathon stood up from his chair and made it half way across the room. The entire confession of the murder he went back and forth again referring to I and we. He decided not to bring it up and let Steven keep talking. Jon was rubbing his forehead with the palm of his hand as he said,
“Okay so it was your second kill? What made this so special?”
Steven snarled and leaned back in his chair looking back at Jon.
“You still don’t seem to understand.”
Jon made his way back to the table and slammed his fist back down upon it as he said.
“What I understand is that you take pleasure on control. You just enjoy the fact that you wanted to control a situation. In murdering that man you didn't do it for anything else. Just like with the girl, just like with Mark. You didn't care about the thrill. You wanted the power to overtake someone to feel important. To feel like a “god” if you will. That's all it was Steven. We have a name for that, you're a bully. Plain and simple, a bully that killed two innocent people, so you could prove or fulfill some sick fascination you have. It's not hard to figure out your type.”
Steven bellowed out a laugh that lasted about ten seconds then screamed an intensity that made even Jon shudder in disbelief.
“You know Jon, I am trying I really am, but you are just making this so damn difficult sometimes. I bet you would love to prove that wouldn't you. Get that tape recorder turned into a damn book. You know what Jon, screw your arrogant bullshit analysis. I thought you could understand but you don't. You don't know a thing about me. You think I did this because I am a bully? That is the best you can come up with? I TOLD YOU TO THINK OUTSIDE OF THE BOX! Like really think about it!
We changed because I evolved from just a killer to something more. I wanted more than just a kill. We wanted more than just to see what it felt like. It wasn't about the pain and rage anymore. I was inflicted by it. It made us sharper, realizing our full potential of that kill. We wanted to keep a souvenir from the moment and his eye was the best thing. It was as though he encased and captured that moment of time in that eye. It was better than a photograph. It wasn't about fear, turmoil, panic or even power. It was about finding something in myself through that eye. It was as if that killing became a second nature to me to us.”
Jon shook his head in distraught back at Steven and said,
“Second nature? Second nature isn't murdering people. It was a conscious decision made on your part. In the end that is just an excuse to fill your needs, your desires Steven.”
Jon kept going over the back and forth with Steven. The use of his pronouns between himself. It was like he was referring to his own killing as if someone else did it. Jon started to get the uneasy feeling like was he talking to someone else.
Chapter 6
Steven shook his head in non acceptance then leaned forward on the steel table as he said,
“It was second nature because I could feel that we instinctively took over that role. It was no longer curiosity. It was our true self coming out into the world Jonny boy. The thing is, I knew that we would never stop. We would never be normal, I would never be normal, but then again what is normal? Is it so clairvoyant? I mean we do have things in us that are dark. Have you ever fully let yourself go on those desires? I mean all of them that twirl in the pit of your stomach. Well most people don't have them. They have fantasies that are created in the mind. Most serial killers become part of this never ending cycle. Not for us, this kill came from the pit of my stomach. It was a hunger that will never be satisfied. It was and always will be my second nature, our second nature. That is why you will never understand what I truly am. That is why you will never be able to figure out why I do, what we do. I thought you were truly different Jon. I thought you were more like us, but in the end I guess you are nothing like me at all. I didn't do it for the feeling of power. I did it because the anger inside let me do it. You will truly never know my full potential unless you have been there yourself, but something in your eye tells me different. Oh tsk, tsk, tsk, you have been judging me the whole time. You have been, haven't you my Jonny Boy? “
Jon took in a long deep breath before he responded. He knew what he was dealing with now. This man wasn't just insane, but something psychologically different. He knew that he would never stop killing but something else bothered him. It was deep and hidden. Steven didn't want to just fess up to these murders. It was like he depicts it as if two people were there, as if another part of him was doing it. No there was something else he wanted. Jon just couldn't figure out what it was. He needed more answers. This man was playing a game. A game he didn't quite know the rules to, but he sure knew the guidelines. Jon then pointed his index finger towards Steven and said,
“No, no I haven't been judging you I just need answers”
“Oh I know everything about you Jon, just sit down and listen to the rest of the story, it will all make sense in due time......I promise.”
Steven sat up straight in his seat and said,
“Jonny boy, oh Jonny boy, I know that brain inside of yours beating itself against that skull. You want to know the rest, like I said, there is a reason I chose you. Now if you walk out now, I will give you nothing. I will sit in silence in a cell for whatever life sentence they give me. You will get nothing, and you will sit up at night wondering what closure you could've brought to these families. I know you Jonny boy, you can't walk away from this. You have to know, so let’s stop with the foreplay, playing with our dicks and get to the screwing shall we?”
Jon glanced over his shoulder and then turned around. He walked back over to the chair and gently sat himself back down as he said,
“Alright Steven tell me, what happened next?'
Steven stared past Jon as if he wasn't even in the same room anymore and continued talking,
“I never made it to college. I knew that I could've done the whole schooling thing but it wasn't in my interests. I picked up a shift at a local factory. It was just a bottling factory and I worked night shifts and then rotated to day shifts. You know that sort of thing. I didn't kill for months but I craved it ever so much. I knew there was something wrong with me, but I also knew we could never go back to the way we were. It was constantly haunting me in my dreams, when I was awake. Always calling out to me. Daunting onto me to kill again but this time I could hold it no longer. I had three days off and it was a weekend. I went to this bar to try to drink my pain away. After ordering six tequila shots and five bottles of beer later I was quite inebriated and decided to leave the bar. As I was walking outside of the tavern I literally ran into this rather large guy with his girl hanging off his arm. He was just as or even more drunk then I was. I remember what he said to me as if it were yesterday,
“Hey watch where you are going!”
“I'm sorry man, I didn't see you.”
“Yeah well you better watch where you step around here faggot.”
The woman tried to stop them as she staggered clearly intoxicated as well and said,
“Come on Paul, please just let it go, the guy doesn't want to get into it. Let's just go inside and get some drinks yeah?”
“Bitch you shut the hell up, this guy wouldn't even know what to do with you if you sat on his face, fag.”
Steven snickered as he said,
“Now is that anyway you really want to treat your lady friend there?”
The big man pushed the girl aside and stood over Steven and said,
“Oh now the fags giving me advice? Well sometimes in this town you don't have to look for trouble, trouble sometimes finds you!”
“Now that's your first problem right there. I was actually going to try to save your fat ass but you know what......I haven't had some fun in a very, very long time.”
Paul swung his big fist straight into Steven’s jaw knocking him down to the ground. He looked back at his girlfriend laughing. Steven felt his inner rage stirring inside snatching a nearby rock into his hand. Paul turned to Steven kneeling down towards him to
mock him and said,
“What the hell is that supposed to mean? Are you going to make a pass at me fag?”
“No, but I am going to torture you!”
Steven quickly smashed the rock into the side of his head and watched contently as Paul hit the ground. His girlfriend started to scream for help as he leapt towards her shoving his hand over her mouth and hissed,
“Sorry honey but your boy toy picked the wrong man to mess with tonight”
Steven smashed her over the head as well. We took a quick glance around. It was one am and no one was around. We threw the bloody rock into the nearby river under the bridge that overlooked the parking lot. Then dragged the big brute to our car and heaved him into the backseat. The girl was much lighter and easier to move around as I threw her into the trunk. We nervously got into the car and sped off. I just kept going over and over the situation in my head. Okay did anyone see us? Would anyone notice if they were gone? I then told myself to calm down. This is what we do, this is who I am, this who we are. Tonight was going to be about me and only about us.”
Jon nodded as he noticed every time Steven Willis was confessing to a murder, he usually referred it to as we, or us. This might be his way of coping in dealing with his murderous side. Steven continued talking and said,
We pulled off onto the off ramp onto the highway my thoughts were racing in my head. I was thinking about the kill, the rush, the feeling of overpowering and the exhilaration that was fuming through my entire being. This was going to be different, there was no planning, no fear of being caught. These people are going to feel what true fear is, and we’re going to be the one to show them. Tonight I am not just a man, tonight, tonight we are gods.
I pulled off into a side dirt road just off of the highway. It felt quiet, secluded and safe. Reaching into the back seat I felt around for my navy blue duffel bag. The strap grazed against my hand and with a quick pull I heaved it out of the back seat. We threw the bag onto the ground then moved on my hands and knees undoing the zipper revealing my tools. I realized that I had to move quickly. Fifteen minutes had already gone by and I knew I didn't have much time until the man or the woman would wake up. What a mess we would be in then. Running after them was never much fun unless it was controlled. Tonight wasn't going to be about the chase. No this was about respect and knowing their place. I pulled out a black leather strapped buck knife and some duct tape. Proceeding towards the car I placed my tools on the roof and opened the door, dragging the big man on the dirt. Dropping him like a sack of potatoes I heard a slight moan push away from his lips. I straddled myself across his chest and laid down a crushing elbow to his face with a sickening thud. The moan droned to a quick stop as his head fell tilting to the right.
We grabbed the duct tape from the roof of the car and rolled the big oaf over. Bounding his hands behind his back then bounding his feet, we conjoined the two together making his big chest puff out like a pigeon. Dragging him to the side of the dirt road we left him by a tree facing the headlights of the car that were still shining brightly into the night. We grabbed the women out of the trunk and pulled her by the back of the shirt tearing one of the straps exposing her left breast. I studied her body carefully and realized what I wanted to do. What we wanted to show. Quickly we went to work and when I was done I walked over to the man. I slid the knife under his shirt ripping it apart. Then slid the knife down into his pants ripping them off along with his tighty whities. His big hairy belly protruded out of his big frame like a pig. We then positioned him on the ground belly down, facing the car. I went through his pockets and found fifty three dollars in cash and his driver’s license.
“Paul Selig huh? What a loser.” Then we waited.
Paul woke up his ears ringing. All he could see was a blinding light and a shadow moving in front of him. He groaned in agony as the ringing went down into a hum as his eyes tried to focus. He could hear a faint voice, growing louder.
“Paul, Paul, the Pig wake up pig.”
Paul then felt something against his skin, it was cold and sharp. It was Steven with a buck knife, pulling back his hair grazing the knife against his throat. He could still only see Steven as a shadow because of the high beams shining brightly into his face.
“What, what the hell man, what is going on? Who are you? What am I doing here? Where are my clothes? Where is Grace?”
“Grace? Is that her name? That's a peculiar name for her? I sure wouldn't say she had much grace. But then again that's why we are here Paul, I am here to teach you some things tonight. Paul, you don't seem to have much respect. For the drunken run down loser you are, it's amazing how highly you think of yourself. To talk to me that way in front of your little bitch outside of that bar. What was it again? Oh yes a fag is what you said. Tsk, tsk, you sure don't know your place in this world do you?”
“What are you talking about you psycho? Where the hell am I? Where is Grace you lunatic?!”
“Oh you want to see Grace? Well I don't mean to be rude. I will show you.”
I then walked around to the side of the car and lowered the high beams. There was Grace, her nude body strung out on the hood of the car. Her wrists and ankles were duct taped bound to the frame of the car. Her stomach was ripped open as her intestines were strung out flopped on the ground. Her mouth was carved open like a jack o lantern with blood still smeared over her cheeks. Her arms and legs were sliced up so much that you could see the muscle and bone poking through the broken bloody skin. Paul started shaking and screaming uncontrollably as he tried to stand up, but the duct tape held as he rolled around on the ground. Steven walked over and pushed his foot down on Paul's back.
“What a work of art. Don't you think? But for some reason I don't think you can appreciate what we created here. You don't look like the artsy type. However we think we captured something like Picasso. Well I know you enjoyed calling me a fag. But when we were scraping and carving that bitch up, she really seemed to enjoy it. So we slipped it in her a couple of times when we got to our peak. Tell me Paul, how does it feel to have a “fag” enjoy Graces last moments? Ironic her name is? She kind of fell from Grace tonight didn't she?”
Paul immediately started to throw up and felt this lump in his throat. How could this happen? Out of all the people he has told off in the bar, he happened to fall into the hands of a psycho. Paul was crying hysterically, his face was hot red as the tears streamed down his face as he sputtered,
“You bastard. I am going to kill you.”
We then smiled and got into Paul's face hissing into his ear,
“You are nothing to me, nothing but an insignificant play thing that is just taking up this world’s oxygen and a belligerent moron. Not only do you have the faintest clue about life, but you don't even appreciate it. No you end up drinking at bars and fucking women because that is the only thing that can make you feel worthy. You have no idea what this society has to offer, but in a way neither do we, but at least we can appreciate the difference between you and I. You never even give it a second thought. You are what is wrong with this world Paul. Tonight you may even meet your maker. So make peace with whatever god or thing you believe in. But know this, tonight, tonight WE ARE YOUR GOD.”
We then jabbed the knife into his scrotum pulling out his testes with our hands and shoving them into his mouth. There was something sexual and satisfying about the whole ordeal. He screamed like all the others but this time it wasn't about his eyes. It wasn't about his fear. It was about his sanity, the satisfaction of knowing that he was emasculated seemed to illuminate the whole situation. Steven thought to himself as Paul writhed in pain on the ground,
“I think I’m going to keep these to savor this moment?”
Jon got up and walked out of the room. He knew what he was dealing with and had a feeling this was the man he was looking for. All of those cases that he had over the years might be linked to this maniac. He just needed a moment to think it over in his head. Detective Parsons and the Chief were waiting for him outside
of the interrogation room. They briskly walked over to him as Chief Ponce said,
“Well what do you think we are dealing with here?”
Jon looked up and replied,
“Clearly a delusional man that has some deep seeded issues. Do you notice how he keeps going back and forth with his pronouns on how he refers to himself? Every time Steven Willis brings up his murders he refers to himself as “we” as in another person. This could be split personality. Don’t worry I will get him to tell me about the rest of the victims. I just wish he would stop playing these games and just give me the rest of his confession.”
“What I want is a profile on my desk what you think this guy has been up to and what he is capable of do you got that?’
“I can do you better, I can tell you exactly what it is we are dealing with right now.”
“Okay Jon let’s hear it?”
“We are dealing with a man who has fit the profile so far on a large spectrum. Psychotic disorders and personality disorders, affective disorders and sexual disorders, and so on. In most cases, the subject's personality has not disintegrated to the point where there is any one identifiable clinical syndrome. A spectrum disorder may exist in muted form or as a mirror-image of a diagnosed or undiagnosed mental illness. I am concerned in this subject with personality types that primarily exhibit the common characteristic of aggression.”
The Chief looks at Jon and said,
“Yeah okay so what the man is an aggressive killer we know that?”
“Look with Paranoia it comes in two forms. There is bad me paranoid and the poor me paranoid. What Steven is experiencing is the bad me type. He is full of rage and sadistic. He has organized aggression that he holds back in tension until he can longer restrain it. This leads for him to sadomasochistic violence to a lingering dark place that makes him hostile. He fused that characteristic of himself with what little bit of humanity he had left from a child. He led this dysfunctional coping style that became a dominant pattern and eventually into another personality or side of himself if you will. If you look back into his mothering experience and the rage from his father it is a perfect fit in the way he perceives the world. What he did was internalize these experiences of his childhood traumas and found an outlet in violent patterns that made him feel like he had some sort of control. He perceives everything as a threat. The world in his eyes is unfair, persecutory which counters his discomfort with his antisocial behaviour. He mimics that behaviour because he is a sociopath. He doesn’t feel what normal people feel every day. He had to learn this by observing others and mimicking their emotions.
Profile of the Gemini Serial Killer Page 5
