It has to be asked. You’ve wondered about it, right? Don’t be afraid. You’re among friends here. When I was starting out, resources were few and far between. No one showed anything to me. I had to teach myself and make it up as I went along. So, without prejudice, let me tell you the things I learned on the way to becoming a successful serial killer.
Basically, I’m lazy. It’s a character flaw. I’ve never wanted to dig a hole. In the early days, I’d always take the easy way out and find a ditch or a drain. I was so naïve. It kinda makes me laugh today. I was so foolish. I could’ve been caught. Fortunately, luck was with me. Rain fell sometime between the moment I dumped a body and when it was found. I didn’t plan it that way, it just happened. Any evidence I may have left on a body was conveniently washed away. I learned how to improve my ways by refining the process and using the weather to assist my cause.
There are other ways to dispose of bodies, but many of them require effort. Some are simply bad for the environment. This brings me to my way.
There is another way. My way. It comes down to two primary things: 1) Location and 2) Timing. There is a third, but I’ll come back to that.
In the USA, there are 92 people per square mile. That’s 184 eyes looking around that mile at any one time. It’s almost impossible to do anything without someone knowing or photographing it. Get it wrong and it’s all over.
My killing ground has a much lower population density. There’s just 1 person in that same square mile. As a result of this wonderful statistic, I don’t do much with the bodies. I leave them where they fall and let nature do the rest. It works fine. In ten years, I’ve not been caught, and it’s an environmentally friendly practice… but I still choose my times and places for kills very carefully.
The summers are stiflingly hot and humid in my hometown of Brisbane. A body that’s open to the climate decomposes fast. If I pick the right night to commit a murder, say, before a drenching thunderstorm, I find that it sorts out most of the evidence immediately. Once the washing is done, all that’s left to finish off the job is some time under a scorching sun. Assuming the body isn’t found at all, it then dissolves into the landscape quick.
And then there are the victims I choose. I go for strangers. They’re nothing to me. They have no historical associations with anything I do or have done. We cross paths one time and that’s it. There aren’t any chain of links to follow, not any that would be obvious anyway.
The Bikeway-Rapist gave me the right idea. He got away with his folly for a long time. Police had no clue who was doing those women. He made it simple by keeping them random.
But he did two things wrong. He did it in daylight and then he let his victims live. Sure, it’s fine to help yourself to dessert, but it’s important to not get caught eating it! The one set of eyes in that square mile that saw everything remained alive. All it took was someone’s great memory and a good description to change the game for our bikeway rapist.
The moral of this story is: Don’t worry about how to hide a body, look at the kill location and choose the right victim.
Kill strangers in desolate places and let them drop just before the rain falls. -A
“Forman’s writing style is artful, with the protagonist Mitchell’s warped thought processes masterfully exposed. The author has a powerful and vivid command of language and his word pictures are stark and disturbingly real.”– Linda J Bettenay, author of ‘Secrets Mothers Keep’ and ‘Wishes For Starlight’.