Last Day on Earth (14 page)

In his email on January 11, Steve apologizes to Kelly: “Please don’t take any offense that I didn’t email you, as I had some family issues that needed to be sorted out, which is why I haven’t responded or been in touch. I’ve always been good at disappearing like that, and I apologize. Also, I got too attached to you initially for a supposed CE [Casual Encounter, a section on Craigslist], but hopefully you understand. What can I say? You were fantastic.”

Kelly responds positively, as usual, and they keep exchanging emails.
“Thanks for not holding a grudge against me,” he writes. “Really, I’m a nice guy but can be a little odd at times. Stay macabre.”

Steve sends Kelly a link for a joke song on YouTube, titled “I wanna be like Osama,” that has a few odd echoes for the coming fame of his own mass murders only three weeks away now: “I know people will abhor me, but my God they won’t ignore me.” He tells her about “a religious right nutcase campaign to protest military funerals; their intent being to tie military deaths in Iraq to acts of god due to the United States (and their military, by proxy) supporting (or at least not opposing) homosexuality.” He’s gay and was in the military, but Kelly doesn’t know. She thinks she knows him, but she doesn’t, and this is the case for everyone else in his life, too, except maybe Jessica, who is in such deep denial she might as well not know.

Kelly tells him about a tattoo she’s thinking of getting, based on a raven tree design on the Bounty Hunter website (“The Universal Federation of Contempt” is Bounty Hunter’s tagline). Kelly wants to put “a quote from Nietzsche under it . . . ‘You must become whoever you are’ or whatever the exact wording is, however I want it in German.”

“I like your tattoo idea,” Steve replies, and of course he would. A reference to the superman, above moral code. “As it seems as if you’ve thought about it for a while. Are there any good artists around Charleston [in Illinois] that you plan on going to? There are plenty of shops up here at UIUC, but I’m loyal to a particular artist, whom I’ve gone to for my last 3 pieces of work. I brought in my ideas and let him work his magic with his freehand, (His name is Jason and he works at Altered Egos). I love the fact that Bounty Hunter is somewhat inspiring to you. Have you ever purchased any T-shirts from them? I have 3 that I picked up a while back; one of which I would probably never wear on an airplane, (the terrorist-ak-47 one).” This is the shirt he’ll wear to Cole Hall. A black T-shirt with white letters that say “Terrorist,” with a red graphic of an AK-47 underneath. In the same email he criticizes “the apologist theories which tend to follow the extremely liberal line of thinking, ‘Don’t blame me, blame society.’”

Steve is all about the individual, about the freedom of the individual above morality and above government. He writes to Kelly that “Big
Brother is watching you” and sends her a link to an article about new “secure driver’s license” rules. This concern is shared by civil rights advocates, but Steve’s focus is different.

“We are losing more freedoms by the day in the name of security,” Steve writes to Mark, “and it’s truly appalling. I hate both democrats and republicans alike. No one speaks for me anymore. Really, the invention of mutually exclusive ideologies in this country—liberal vs. conservative—has been a smokescreen for the real power brokers to utilize while achieving their own ends. Yes, it may sound like conspiracy, but it’s the truth, although I would never mention it to someone in public lest I be labeled a tinfoil old hat paranoid radical. The media, like FOX, CNN, MTV all help to perpetrate the illusion of democracy by plastering pictures of racial apologists and bible thumpers all over TV on a 24/7 basis.”

“This is just part of the conversation,” Mark says. “You can see that he is smart, intelligent, and has a good viewpoint . . . More recently he started reading conspiracy theories, because we always talked half-jokingly about conspiracy theories and whatnot, but he said that he had some books and he’s more into it. 9-11 for instance, some conspiracies about that, like whether the Pentagon crash really happened, because the way they had the camera angle, they had a camera that showed it, and then the way there was no debris left over for a big 80-ton plane . . . He wasn’t a conspiracy theorist, but he just had interest in it. So that’s an example of his intelligence . . . I really respected him for his viewpoints. He wasn’t like a crazy tinfoil person. There was good theory behind what he said.”

On January 16, Steve makes a joke to Kelly about “bleeding heart social workers,” even though this is, theoretically, what he’s trying to become. He’s more interested, though, in gore. “I actually saw Sweeney Todd last night, and I HIGHLY recommend it. I’m sure the asian people in front of me thought I was a sociopath, as the murder scenes with splurting everywhere were hilarious!!!” Steve on the couch with his mother, watching horror movies all those dark afternoons. What did he see as he shot real people and watched their blood splurt? Did he think of it as “splurting”? Did he have that word in his head? Did it seem real? Was it different than what he expected? “There’s even a song about
how Sweeney and his partner plan on disposing of the bodies.” Did he ever consider asking Kelly to be his partner? Another of Steve’s favorite T-shirts: “Friends help you move. Real friends help you move bodies.”

Steve and Kelly keep hitting the same topics in their emails—sex, gore, mass murder, race. “I just want to know why they all walk down the wrong side of the stairs,” Kelly writes on January 17, “and when I am coming up them and they have to move, they shoot me a look like I just lynched their grandmother. True story, at least 2× per week. :)”

“Maybe because you were getting ‘all up in they grillz.’ I kid, I kid, but I know what you mean and had to deal with that when I lived in Chicago. Hey, stairs are important to protect, and hey, you never know . . . perhaps your cousin’s mother’s aunt’s great grandfather’s son’s wife’s mom lynched the grandma, (messed up family tree . . . ). Better carry a strap and regulate!”

On January 18 they talk about “Jap rock.” Steve writes, “I’d rather chew glass than listen to Jap rock for five minutes.” Then they’re on to lip piercing.

On January 20, Steve writes, “Last night . . . I bored myself to sleep by watching politics and fantasizing about world peace and brotherly love on the eve of MLK day. lol. On a totally other issue, completely out of the blue, I was wondering if you would ever be interested in getting together for . . . a . . . well, sex. Yeah, this is blunt and to the point, but I’m not one to beat around the bush, (no pun intended). I thought we were a great match last time, and I’m not really interested in doing the whole Craigslist thing again. I find you incredibly attractive (and sexy); we’re both comfortable with each other’s bodies; and we both trust each other, (you know, that we’re both reasonably sane).”

Kelly’s first response is lackluster: “As for the whole getting together for sex thing, that’s really up to you. If I have to pick between being your friend and having sex with you (even really great sex), I’d still rather be your friend. However, if you’re comfortable with both, so am I.”

“Well, I can handle the whole being friends and ‘having fun’ thing,” Steve writes back, “and wouldn’t have any problem with it if you don’t. I thought the sex was really fantastic with you, so I’d definitely be up for getting together again, at your convenience ;-) . . . If you supply the Type O
Negative, I’ll supply the . . . well, the fun stuff! ;-) . . . I’m off to read some social work theory about how the man is holding everyone down . . .”

They keep emailing, making arrangements for sex and hitting their other favorite topics: “No tattoo on the neck yet,” Kelly writes. “I’ve also told my mom that I am getting one on the palm of my hand that says, ‘pay up, bitch’ with some dollar signs. Mostly, I just enjoy tormenting her.” They’re also talking about St. Louis, where she’ll be visiting soon: “Honestly, the place is terrifying in the evenings. Especially being white. And not having a gun.”

Like many other racists, Steve and Kelly don’t know they’re racist, don’t realize how often they threaten violence, and are distracted by sex. Steve offers his place when Jessica will be at work, “in order to avoid a strange/uncomfortable situation.”

On January 21, Kelly sends him an email joking that “my job is driving me to the brink of a mass murder.” Steve has been playing Call of Duty 4 online, says that “practicing with virtual weapons translates into?” and doesn’t finish the thought. He calls her his ‘homey’ and writes “BTW-Homey Hopper was a derogatory term used on the Maury show to describe a white hooker who liked to get down with some Jungle Fever a bit too often. Hey, you asked!”

Their emails cool off again, which makes it seem they may have had sex on January 22 or 23, though Kelly denies this to police. So maybe something else is going on with Steve that takes him off the radar for a couple days. On the twenty-fourth, Kelly sends him an email trying to reconnect: “I know that maybe I’m kind of an intense person to be friends with. It’s just that I have a lot to say and so few people that I feel like sharing it with. Anyway, I apologize cause I know that makes you uncomfortable/freaked out, like we are getting too close. I don’t mind doing things on your terms, so don’t feel bad telling me if I am being a bit too much, you need a few days, please leave you alone for a while because I am a weirdo, etc. The key words being to tell me these things, don’t just go disappearing forever. Like an actual friend, I do worry about you. So, I just wanted to go ahead and tell you that, because I think you’re pretty awesome and I do want to be your friend. So . . . I will talk to you whenever! =)”

Steve replies that he didn’t mean to give that impression and he wasn’t planning on disappearing, but he remains breezy and distant, saying “Keep in touch.”

Kelly goes out drinking with her friend Mina and sends him an email at 2:25 a.m. “Cause you know . . . it’s not just for the homos anymore. So, my friend Mina and I just returned from karaoke night at the bar (and possibly one too many cranberry and vodkas . . .) and we have decided to launch a campaign to take back the rainbow . . . because damnit, we like rainbows and we don’t want people thinking we are gay because of it. So join us in our worthy crusade! :) Are you free on Sunday morning? I was thinking that if you are, that would be a good time for you to come over. I don’t work until 3pm! I was going to go to church, but I mean, I could be persuaded into staying home for some sex instead. So . . . let me know. :)”

What’s it like for Steve to read this email? He’s told his gay sister that he thinks he’s gay. He’s been with men. It’s possible that sex with women is only a cover, a desire to be different than what he is. But no one in his life ever knows all of him, so he’s often caught in this kind of conversation. His politics are the same contradictory mix. His friends at NIU think he’s to the left and that he wants to go into social work because he wants to help people, believes in rehabilitation, etc. They can imagine him in support of the Rainbow Coalition. But really he thinks they’re all naive bleeding heart liberals, and his own faith rests only on the individual, above morality, above social code, ultra–right wing. One time after he’s been reading his copy of Nietzsche’s
The Anti-Christ
, he sets it down and Jessica picks it up. This upsets him—he’s really angry, it’s a violation—and he tells her the book is “very personal.” Nearly every sentence of
The Anti-Christ
is an incitement to mass murder. Many of my fellow professors disagree with that, but I studied German and the history of German thought, and I have no sympathy for the church (I’m an atheist), so I should theoretically be a good reader for this book, but I still think it’s the single ugliest book ever written. Steve loved it. No morality, just kill, kill, kill. Assert your will because you’re bigger and better.

Steve’s response to Kelly’s email is short and doesn’t reveal much: “Take back the Rainbow for freedom and democracy! Perhaps it can be a future campaign platform? Sunday morning will not work for me, as I’ll be too busy sacrificing virgins to the almighty dark lord Satan on that day. Well that, and I’ll be in Schaumburg.”

Steve contacts the Navy recruiter in Champaign a few days later, on January 28, and says he’d like to enlist, not as an officer, even though his college education would make that possible now. He wants to be a grunt, told what to do, every day structured, no decisions. Is this a last attempt to grab a lifeline? Does he know where he’s headed otherwise? He and the recruiter, Nole Scoville, discuss his previous discharge and Prozac in the past, and it seems that nothing will actually prohibit Steve from reenlisting. “The applicant revealed to me that he had been an entry level separation from the Army for failure to adjust,” reads Scoville’s report. “He had also revealed that he had taken Prozac in the past but had been off the medication for 8 years. The applicant also told me that he had a screw in his knee. By our instruction there were no blueprinting hits that would immediately disqualify him.”

Steve is careful during the call, and afterward he’s worried. He didn’t tell the recruiter that he’s currently on Prozac. If he goes into a psychiatric exam and says he’s taking Prozac, that will disqualify him, won’t it? And they might take a blood test.

Steve needs to return to the military. He talks about law school, about public administration, about corrections, about academia, but he’s lost. A safe, controlled environment, daily structure, that’s what he needs. He knows this about himself.

So he stops taking the Prozac. He has to do that. And just like when he went off it in the fall, everything gets worse. His obsessive compulsive disorder, his checking behaviors, his anxiety. He only has to get through maybe three weeks of it, and then he should be clean for a drug test. Does he realize, though, that his Army history is likely to repeat, that the Navy will likely find out he’s lied about mental health in his application? Does this add to the stress, his sense of doom, his inevitable failure?

STEVE SITS ON THE COUCH CRUISING CRAIGSLIST.
He keeps the screen facing away from Jessica, closes it if she gets too close. Sometimes she’s talking, and he doesn’t even realize she’s been talking. She says he’s acting strange, won’t get off his case until finally he admits he’s off his meds.