In producing
Bad Boy from Rosebud,
I collected many thousands of pages of official and unofficial documents. Quite often, I was allowed to view reports that are not yet public record. On other occasions, during interviews, sources gave me information on the condition that they not be identified. Since this is an account of relatively recent crimes, and since most of the major characters are still alive, I accepted those conditions. Information from confidential documents will hereafter be cited as "Confidential Document." Confidential information secured through an interview will be hereafter cited as "Confidential Source."
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In some instances I used only first names, slightly-altered first names, or nicknames of some individuals who deserve privacy or a chance to reform themselves. In the footnotes, these names are bracketed.
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Finally, social graces do not always accompany history. The world of Kenneth Allen McDuff can neither be described nor understood without the profoundly disturbing use of its "native language" and graphic descriptions of its inhabitants and what they do.
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It must be difficult living with someone writing a book about a monstrous serial killer. And yet, my wife and soul mate, Laura, patiently allowed me to work on this very large project for over a year, sapping nearly all of our vacation days, weekends, and spare time. On those few occasions when we went out, friends inevitably asked us about McDuff. She could have reasonably put an end to such an immense distraction to our lives. Instead, when she could, she helped. She is an expert writer and editor, who helped to craft a first-rate book. (At least those parts she could bear to read.)
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Our two sons, Charlie and Mark, accompanied me on trips to trailer parks, long drives from Austin through the Blackland Prairie, and hikes through woods and across the infamous abandoned road in Bell County. They helped me with pictures and notes. Our two daughters, Amy and Anna, saved me a great deal of time by locating rolls of microfilm in libraries and carrying them to my study desk. All four of them are neat people to be around. In my home I am surrounded by beauty; they are what is beautiful about Central Texas.
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My very good friend and colleague, Scott Kampmeier, a master history teacher and a gifted writer, read every chapter as I wrote it, asked
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