They say all serial killers have three names...Mature

They say all serial killers have three names – John Wayne Gacy, Jeffrey Lionel Dahmer, Albert Henry Disalvo, Theodore John Kaczyinsky, Robert William (Willie) Picton, Gary Leon Ridgway (Green River Killer), Theodore Robert Bundy, Henry Lee Lucas …. and I’m no different. Maybe that should be a clue to someone?

They don’t know my name yet, but they will. I’m not a bad person in my own mind, yet society will say that I am. I have killed – many in fact, but there has always been a reason.  I do what other people think should be done, wish they could do, would do – if only they wouldn’t get caught or punished.

The first time I killed was a man who society thought was an upstanding citizen, yet I knew better. In the two years I worked with him I got to know his specific brand of peccadilloes/interests – namely small children.  The fact that he had his own at home made it worse to me.

In my mind I am ridding the planet of those that shouldn’t even walk on its fertile soil. I watch all the CSI type shows and know that one day they will catch me, but until then I will do what I can, for as long as I am able.

I watch this new show called Dexter with amusement. Not that the show itself is funny, but the fact that people think things like this are new is what I find funny.  Some think its called vigilante justice and about taking the law into our own hands, but I’m not sure if that wholly applies to me. None of these things affect me directly or personally – I just happen to think they are wrong.

I see the red tape and ties that bind the law enforcement officials and I see the realities of what prison is rather than what it should be and that sickens me. I cannot - not do something about it.

Some will say that I should have been more humane in the way I extracted retribution, but I don’t see the purpose in that. I have only given and eye for an eye.

I don’t understand why people who rape, torture, murder etc., should be given a quiet painless send off into the hereafter. I don’t think so, no that just won’t do.

The people they hurt felt every second of their demise and these cowards don’t want to feel pain – and know that no matter how many they kill, their worst punishment will be put to death with a lethal injection or an electric chair.  What is that compared to the dismemberment of a live child?

I don’t know what else to call it other than hunting. I love hunting and that is what I do. I hunt humans and yes, I loved the book with that name but don’t feel it actually applies to me specifically, but more specifically to the people that I stalk.

I save the taxpayers money on the hunting, the police time, the lawyers, defendants, appeals etc.

I have spent time studying the way to do things properly so that I cause the least amount of problem or issue at the scene. That said, I also realize this makes it harder for law enforcement to catch me. I’m not stupid but the longer I can stay out of their clutches, the more I can achieve.

Some people have goals of becoming a doctor or a dentist, I’ve never had those specific goals – or at least not that I can remember. I’ve always wanted to be a journalist/reporter.

Information has always been my thing – in any form, print, spoken word.. you name it. I’ve always loved to do research and background for my stories – the traveling and exposure to so many other people and their cultures was just an incredible bonus.

My only fear in being caught is not for myself, but for my husband. He knows nothing about this and he is the reason I am writing this journal. They say every killer keeps a trophy of their kill – for me it’s the research and my carefully taken notes that I have written here.

I also take the notes to exonerate my husband. You see he is a homicide detective and to an outsider it could seem as if he has provided me information on all of the cases – both the ones I followed and hunted down the predators and the cases in which they are looking for me.

My husband, Paul Forest is an honest upstanding citizen and police officer and in no way provided me with any information that assisted in my continuing to roam free.

His hours perhaps have provided me with enough time to do my own work, as well as my hobby of hunting. Early on in our marriage we learned the terms of both of our jobs – and how to not compromise each other personally or professionally. 

We both have only our word and integrity to lead us and as much as working together might help both of us – it could also have hindered both of us. It’s a delicate line to be sure, but for the past 12 years we have been able to navigate it successfully.  Well on his side anyways.

I’ve never publicly used the information I gleaned from him or from the quick and furtive glances of a working file while he was in the shower – it was simply for my own use. Never seen in print or on any of my tv broadcasts.

Maybe I have learned police techniques by reviewing his notebooks from his schooling and constant upgrades on education. In an attempt to be closer with him, I joined him at the shooting range (also helped me with my own security when I had to go to countries that were less than safe for a story)… same with other various weapons training.

My husband knows nothing of my past, nothing of my real history. My real parents were killed by a drunk driver in a car accident. The driver was underage in a stolen car that had no insurance. Nobody was found truly guilty and since he was a juvenile he did minimal time and has no record and was free to continue on with his life as if nothing ever happened. Nothing ever happened to him – and I was adopted by my foster family and have a new name.

I never spoke about it – and people took that to mean I didn’t remember. They were grateful because they thought it didn’t affect me and that I was blessed by that and able to live a full life without the sorrow, anger or grief that would typically come from that type of situation.

Life has a funny way of teaching you how to survive and instinctively I knew that the only way to live was to pretend nothing had happened. That made the adults in my life happy and they continued to live their own lives happily and stopped fussing over me. I hated attention and just wanted it to stop. 

I had always been an only child and preferred the solace, not the spotlight.  In my room over the years I found ways to cope with my loss that I never shared with anybody, until now, in this book.

My methods of healing are not typical to be sure, but they were my means to survival. As I got older it was the only way I knew and the hunger and emptiness just continued to grow, so I had to change and expand my healing horizons – to what it is today.

My foster parents were great people, but with me being a weak person – their lives took a toll on me. Because I was so young when my parents died – my new parents were the only parents I knew. Together we agreed that we would never tell the other story – as it didn’t matter, this was my truest past and the one thing everyone wanted to hide behind.

My new father was a lawyer and my new mother was a social worker and through both of them I saw a system that continued to fail the people the most in need. I watched them both try to help other people over and over – and on most occasions the victim was punished and had to live their lives in fear because of a system that let the perpetrators go free. That is how the idea of what I do now was spawned.

I guess I sound a little like Batman – but I never got the cape or the bat mobile. I didn’t want the spotlight – yet I got used to being the face behind the story when I got good enough. 

Funnily enough I’ve never had a problem with right or wrong – those lines have been very clear for me.  I’ve always had faith and have always tried to do the right thing – as much as society dictates it anyways.

I’ve got to go for now.. I have an appointment to keep, but I’ll be back to tell you all about it.


The End

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