Ted Bundy

by Stephen G. Michaud

  TB: That would be foolish for them to do so, to think that.

  HA: When I suggested the possibility that law-enforcement people might flock to talk with you, bringing psychiatrists and psychologists by the dozens, I was seriously trying to do something worthwhile, for you – and for the cops and the victims’ families.

  I don’t know how long you’ve got, but it can’t be more than seven or eight more years. You say you’re not going to try to escape. Your appeals, though I’m no lawyer, seem spurious at best. . . so you’re going to die. It’s just when. . . and how.

  Something like this might buy you another year or two – and give you a decent feeling that you’d done all you could to make up for. . .

  TB: To make up for what? I think you succumbed to the same things that the police succumbed to, hoping, you know, that he’ll come through. For whatever reason, I don’t know.

  HA: I can see we’re not even close to being on the same wave length here. It’s too bad, because we both appreciate the time and effort you have given. And, let’s face it, when you suggested coming up with that Chi Omega stuff, I damn near fell off my chair. There’s no way we could expect anything like that in reality.

  I have to tell you, the first part of our arrangement, I always thought, was beneficial to you at the time. You enjoyed talking out some of your thoughts, and you didn’t have much outlet for that kind of self-examination inside these walls. And I think you always considered yourself so smart, so wily, that – at least in your mind – you always thought there was a chance the book could make you look good.

  So, to that point, you got your money’s worth. But we couldn’t provide even a doubt in any of the murders – probably because there is no doubt. You lost on that. We’ve turned over the rocks – and there’s nothing there to make you look or feel any better.

  But if you had come through with your description of what went on in the killer’s mind in Tallahassee that night, it would’ve far surpassed all the ruminating and postulating you’ve done – and though it wouldn’t have helped the girls at Chi Omega, it might have added something to the world’s knowledge about a very disturbing sociological phenomena.

  TB: I wanted to do it. . . but it was just too hard. And I couldn’t do it part way, edit it, work with it back there. Somebody would’ve. . . could’ve found it and used it against me. And it was too important, uh, to. . .

  HA: I thought you came close two or three times. And I thought that talking about it would be a great burden off your mind.

  TB: A burden? No, I carry no burden, except being in prison.

  HA: You can compartmentalize better than anyone I’ve ever known!

  TB: It’s not a matter of. . . well, it may have been a matter of compartmentalization, which is not the process by any means. I’ve learned to live absolutely and completely and totally in the here and now. I don’t worry, think or concern myself with the past, or, for that matter, with the future, except only to the extent necessary.

  That in itself is not pathological. If you study, which I have been studying to some degree, oriental philosophy – Buddhism and Taoism and spiritual-physical traditions of the East are much in tune with the way I have become.

  As a result, I find that the pressures on me have actually permitted me to enter into a period of growth – for whatever value that has for me. It’s not going to be relevant to you or somebody at large. . . I don’t know. But I tried to give you a measure of my optimism when I gave you that book on. . . uh, pardon me, that article on holistic medicine.

  HA: And that means you have no further desire to cleanse anything from the past? I don’t understand.

  TB: Well, whatever I’ve done in the past, you know – the emotions of omissions or commissions – doesn’t bother me.

  Try to touch the past! Try to deal with the past. It’s not real. It’s just a dream! In fact, it’s as real as the future.

  HA: I wish I could treat the past two years with the same philosophy.

  TB: It had to come to this! I was sitting around – those first few months – and just being affected by everything that went on, with Carole, with my family, with you and Steve and this book thing. God only knows why I got involved, though I actually enjoyed parts of it. Only parts, now.

  Now, it is a lot easier for me to write a nasty letter than to sit here and get really uptight. You know. . . my letter to you guys. . . it was a lot easier to write that than to confront you with the same vehemence today.

  I’ve never gotten close to you, Hugh, but I’ve never done you any wrong, either. I didn’t bring you into this project and then dump on you. I may have not given you what you wanted, but God’s sakes! I haven’t given a lot of people what they wanted. I do regret that it’s come to this point.

  But what did I ever have to gain? I don’t give a damn about what is written about me, and I. . .

  HA: You sure did when you thought it might go your way.

  TB: Not so. Not so. I knew you both were professionals and you would write what you believed. I dreaded it anyway, because every time I hear about some book or magazine article written about me, I’m always deeply distressed. I haven’t won too many so far.

  I mean, certainly there was a time when I used the press, but, you know, only as a technique to cause confusion and to bolster my defense. That was not for publicity’s sake. At any rate, I regret that this state of events will, in some way, hurt you and Steve and your attempt to write a good book. That was not my intention.

  Actually, I can’t see why you don’t have enough right now to finish it. What else do you need?

  HA: Are you shoving this situation back into a comfortable compartment, Ted? We have spent days, weeks, and months, getting your feelings, remembrances, your instincts, and the like. But what we need – or at least what is needed for the best book – is the truth from you.

  I need to know what really happened in the Leach and Chi Omega cases. I need to know whether we’re writing about half a dozen murders or fifty. I need to have some idea how the murderer felt, how he was transformed from an acceptable member of society into a madman. And I’d like to know where most of the bodies are.

  I can understand your unwillingness to talk about the Florida cases in detail, but there’s nothing but good (that) can come from understanding and, in effect, solving, the cases in the West.

  TB: But I don’t see the problem. You know enough about all of this that you and Steve can just fill in the holes. I told you a long time ago that you could make up as many as you like. It’ll sell better. And who cares?

  HA: Well, it’s like our editor said recently, “He’s already confessed. . . that plea-bargain deal. He’s guilty and everybody knows it. Why won’t he just tell you?”

  TB: Well, we live in different worlds, obviously. We look at the world differently, that is, she and I. We all look at the world differently.

  HA: Yeah. Well, I can understand where you are and how you feel. But there’s something that I don’t understand. You say the past is not real and doesn’t even matter. And yet you remember the past. So why in hell don’t you talk about it. . . and get it all out and get it done?

  TB: Well. . . I remember, as you might remember. . . a Humphrey Bogart movie. When it’s over, you don’t talk about it all the time.

  HA: Going to a movie isn’t exactly like killing people, Ted! Now, goddamnit, you’re straining reality here again!

  TB: Are we? We’re always straining reality. . . every day. I don’t know what to say to you except to tell you that, uh, I just view things a lot differently.

  Prison has helped me, because it forces me and everyone else to live in the here and now. Only I do so differently. Some people in prison try to escape from being right here, right now. They do it with drugs or they do it with any number of cute devices. But I’ve been able to use that tremendous gift of living right now – to see everything where it is – as much as I can right now.

  It’s to my advantage. It took me four or five years unt
il I could reach that point, because I didn’t know what it was. I used to live each day at a time, just to protect myself. Now I live each day, and each moment, to try to expand myself. It may not make sense to you, but. . .

  HA: Actually, it doesn’t make sense to me.

  TB: Well, a lot of people, uh, most people – at least those I’m most familiar with – are encumbered with a kind of mechanism that is called guilt. And as I understand it, guilt is a mechanism. To a degree, I have certainly experienced it, but much less so now than ever while I was on the streets. Or even two years ago!

  HA: What do you mean, less?

  TB: I mean I don’t feel guilty for anything! I feel less guilty now than I’ve felt in any time in my life. About anything. And it’s not that I’ve forgotten anything, or else closed down part of my mind, or compartmentalized. I compartmentalize less now than I ever have.

  It’s just done! It’s back there in the mists! I say “mists” because I don’t think anyone actually touches the past the way they can touch the present or the future.

  Guilt? It’s this mechanism we use to control people. It’s an illusion. It’s a kind of social control mechanism – and it’s very unhealthy. It does terrible things to our bodies. And there are much better ways to control our behavior than that rather extraordinary use of guilt.

  It doesn’t solve anything, necessarily. It’s just a very gross technique we impose upon ourselves to control the people, groups of people. I guess I am in the enviable position of not having to deal with guilt. There’s just no reason for it.

  I don’t think I need to feel guilty anymore, because I try to do what’s right, right now! And I either do or I don’t. And that’s it. Now, some people could listen to what I just said and say, “See, he’s a sociopath,” or whatever term they use. “He doesn’t feel any guilt. Oh, how terrible! He doesn’t feel any guilt!” Hah!

  I feel sorry for people who feel guilt. I’m not talking about the act. I’m talking about the emotional consequences of the act. I feel sorry for people who are drug addicts or who are criminals. I feel sorry for business executives who have to lust after money and power. I feel sorry for a lot of people who have to do things that hurt them.

  But I don’t feel sorry for anyone who doesn’t feel guilty because the guilt doesn’t solve anything, really. It hurts you. You don’t need guilt to do the right thing. You don’t have to feel bad about the past to be able to do well right here and now. And it’s the here and now that carries us to the future. You don’t need to feel badly. You don’t need to regret.

  HA: Well, that seems easy enough for someone who simply doesn’t want to face the facts about a life that went astray. I’m not sure it bodes well for the future, however. Don’t you care, for instance, about how others feel about you – and, more particularly, how they would feel if they knew you had absolutely no remorse, guilt, or sorrow?

  TB: Sure, that’s, uh. . . that’s just part of the social reinforcement scheme. We do well because of what our peers and our families think about it. We try not to do things that hurt them, or make them feel badly about us. It’s a positive-negative reinforcement and all that. That’s part of the illusion of our contemporary existence.

  We do a lot of things that are just really bizarre, if you stop and think about it. That are just terribly destructive. I don’t want to get into preaching again, but I mean, I’ve done a lot of, uh. . . I’ve done a lot of self-inspection – I guess that’s the word – and I try to understand what I do in each and every minute.

  But for all our progress, Hugh, for all the great things this society is accomplishing, look how sick we’ve gotten. What kind of testimony is that for the rational mind? Or to our civilized social structure? There is something terribly wrong with the way things are going.

  It manifested itself in me, okay? I saw what it did! I can readily see now what it did to me. We’ve tried to discuss that. I’ve tried to explain it to you. Okay? I can understand what it did to me and I’m not trying to externalize the blame or place it on anybody else.

  I do understand it! I acted in concert with my environment, or allowed myself to be absorbed in my environment. I understand that now, better than before – especially when I see a lot of the young people and the way they’re headed today.

  You know, they know better, but at the rate they’re going. . . I see the way we live. I see the way a lot of people destroy themselves, Hugh. Now, Steve is a real nice, bright guy. I don’t know a lot about him – except during our contacts – but here’s a young fellow, a young man, who doesn’t eat right, abuses his body with alcohol and cigarettes, and lives just a hectic existence. And he thinks it’s peachy! He thinks it’s just the greatest thing in the world.

  HA: Yeah.

  TB: And I’m not trying to be self-righteous about it. I’m not saying I’m better or anybody’s better or worse, but there’s got to be something wrong with an existence that makes us feel good about destroying ourselves a little bit at a time. That’s where I’m coming from. It’s kind of an individual experiment right now. I don’t know how it would translate into being back in society – and being subjected to the old stresses and pressures which were a part of my mental, uh, program.

  HA: Many people go through such stresses – and though they are obviously affected, they don’t act such things out.

  TB: True, well, there are those, too. . . it’s not a problem that lends itself to a very satisfactory analysis. If you choose one set of circumstances over another, who knows what errors you’re making? I would guess that, a hundred or two hundred years ago, a lot of the men who are in prison now would not have been in prison – simply because of the environment they lived in.

  They would not have had the opportunity or the need to engage in criminal behavior or socially deviant behavior. It wouldn’t be there – the temptation or the perversion, the corruption or what have you. So, yeah, it’s environmental.

  What’s happening, I think, is that modern society is testing our genetic materials to capacity. . . and those who have certain weaknesses or predispositions – which would probably have not manifested themselves in a less indulgent society – are being identified and thrust into deviant action.

  Steve, as a matter of fact, in a letter he wrote to me, quoted a passage from a book on psychopathology that, in effect, said just that. I guess I was pretty impressed because I thought he was doing some research in that area.

  I forget the title, but it more or less said that society is driving some of its individuals past the point where they can conform. The kind of environment we’re producing the social and physical and what have you.

  I doubt that my chromosomes are radically different from those of people who lived quite lawfully in centuries past. But modern forces will test these. It’s a rather cold way of looking at it, but I do believe it’s possible to retreat. But you have to be able to totally shut yourself off from the, uh, forces.

  HA: Well, you seem to know yourself much better today than before. If you had it to do over again, would you be able to avoid getting trapped by this?

  TB: There are lots of things. If I knew myself as well as I do now, yes. I would’ve never gone to college, for instance.

  HA: Never gone to college?

  TB: I would never want to be an attorney.

  HA: Why wouldn’t you have wanted to go to college?

  TB: That may have been a rather extreme statement. But all college does is refine the rather shortsighted ways of thinking that we accept in society. It gives us the ability to seek the goals of society, uh, more efficiently – and that’s good whether it’s for power, greed, or to have physical possessions, or just to live in harmony with other people.

  HA: But there have to be some parameters set somewhere.

  TB: I think if I had it to do over, I’d, maybe, be a lumberjack.

  HA: A lumberjack?

  TB: I’d have as little contact with modern society as possible. If I could have recognized fifteen years ago the po
isonous consequences of modern life – not only the physical things that are being done to us but the intellectual, spiritual, and poisoning we get – I would have certainly withdrawn.

  Or I might have interacted in society in a way that I would have tried to debunk the contemporary notions that we accept as success. You know, the house, the good job, and all that. There’s nothing wrong with feeding and clothing and sheltering oneself, in a family, but there’s certainly something amiss when we have to deal with the multi-expectations of today’s society.

  HA: It isn’t the easiest thing to disengage from society, though.

  TB: It isn’t. It’s like we’re on this runaway train. We know it’s running away with us, but it would be a hell of a thing getting off! You might make it; you might not. You’re sure to get a bundle of bruises any way you look at it. But, you know, jumping off that train – even when it’s at its fastest – might save you the pain and grief of going off the cliff later.

  HA: Don’t you wish you’d been more mature eight or ten years ago?

  TB: Sure, I wish I had been exposed to a lot more.

  HA: You really were somewhat sheltered, you know. Except academically. Socially, you were pretty immature.

  TB: I think that was my most glaring limitation, the cause of a lot of grief over those years. Once I was able to see the world. . . see people and things around me, in a less dispassionate, uh, more compassionate way. . . I felt much more comfortable with myself. And with everything around me.

  HA: You know, when you delve inside yourself like this – without all the bravado and arrogance – I find myself really hating to see your life end up like this. A man of your intellect, your ability. I’ve sometimes been harsh with you because I thought you were always playing games with me, but when I see you truly suffer, it’s a hell of a thing to see.

  And I’ll remember it for a long time.