The Last Victim (31 page)

Sometimes I can even hear Gacy taunt me: “Jason . . . Jason . . . wake up and come with me. You can’t hide from me now . .
. You won’t escape again.” Then suddenly a pair of blood-soaked hands reach down for my throat, squeezing so hard that I gasp
for breath and wake myself up in a cold sweat.

Gacy was certainly right. I haven’t been able to escape him after all. During the days I keep myself as busy as I can. I distract
myself with my various projects. I volunteer my time helping others.

It’s at night that there’s no place to hide.

E
ven though Jason elected to break off all contact with his “pen pals” for a time after Gacy’s execution, he still remained active refining his methods of interrogation and questioning. Through the next four years of college, he learned everything he could about the psychology of criminal behavior. He built a personal library that included the most scholarly works in the field. He volunteered to do research with his psychology professors. He studied hard during his internships with the Secret Service and Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, and Firearms. And the writing of this book seemed to rekindle in him the desire to resume his own research efforts, to prepare himself for a career in law enforcement and forensic psychology.

Which is why a few months after our collaboration on this project ended, I found myself by Jason’s side in the waiting room of Death Row in a Huntsville, Texas, prison. We were there to interview Henry Lee Lucas, who was soon to be scheduled for execution (the sentence was subsequently commuted by the governor because of prosecutorial bungling during his trial). I was curious to see Jason in action, going toe to toe with Lucas. Would he seem out of his depth, as he had with Gacy? I wondered how much he’d learned since his first traumatic encounter.

Things did not go well at first. Although Lucas, Jason, and I were the only ones in the huge, cavernous visiting area, our subject was behaving as if there were eavesdroppers. Perhaps there were.

I could see from the corner of my eye that Jason was becoming as frustrated as I was. Lucas was just so evasive, with his smug smile. Jason and I had been playing tag team, each of us directing various questions his way, rarely sure of who was leading whom.

I was about ready to pack it in. We were mostly wasting our time, and I felt uncomfortable spending even a minute with this squirrely guy who’d stabbed his own mother to death, as well as bludgeoned and strangled dozens of others. I was about to give Jason the “we’re outta here” signal when he pressed his foot against mine and looked at me intently. He’d obviously devised some sort of plan, and he wanted me to play along.

“Henry,” he began, using a different tone of voice to indicate a change in subject, “we were wondering if you could help us with a project we’re working on.”

“Sure. If I can. Whatcha got in mind?” At that moment I imagined that if his hands hadn’t been cuffed, they’d surely be rubbing each other with glee.
Maybe there’s some angle I can exploit
, you could hear him thinking.

“We’re working on a movie script,” Jason continued, “and we could use some input. It’s sort of like you’d be our consultant.”

Lucas didn’t say a word at first. You could see his wheels turning, see him calculating the chances of getting some money out of this to finance his various legal appeals.

“What’s it about?” he asked.

“Just down your line,” Jason said without a beat. “It’s about a killer.”

They both smiled at one another, as if they had an understanding. Lucas nodded but remained silent. Waiting. Watching.

“See,” Jason said, “we’ve got this character who kills people, but we need to know a lot more about what’s involved. We figured that with all your personal research and all, you must know some things that could help make this movie realistic.”

I couldn’t believe how quickly the flow of the conversation changed once Jason had created this vehicle for Lucas to speak more honestly. While Lucas had previously been reticent and terse, answering in monosyllables, all of a sudden he talked as if he was delivering a seminal lecture on his area of expertise (which of course he was).

“If you don’t leave evidence,” Lucas said conspiratorially, “they can’t find you.”

“Uh huh,” Jason responded, waiting for him to continue.

“If you don’t tell nobody, you won’t get caught neither.” Lucas’s big mistake had been to work with a partner.

“You have to hide the body so it won’t be found. It’s good to burn a body, but then they still find teeth, so you have to hide it real good.”

I looked over at Jason as this conversation ensued. Although I interview people for a living, I was grudgingly impressed by the skill and artistry with which he guided the discussion.

“Choppin’ up a body makes a mess and it leaves evidence,” Lucas explained. “You don’t want to have blood.”

At this Jason and I simply nodded our heads, as if Lucas was passing along a cherished family recipe.

“Everyone urinates. You take the average guy, he messes himself. But a younger girl, they just urinate. The older ones, they do both.”

I couldn’t believe the conversation’s direction. Slowly, Lucas had forgotten that he was talking about killing in general and had segued into his own experiences. At least it appeared that way.

“So, how do you find victims?” Jason bore in, dropping the pretense about consulting for a movie.

“That’s easy. You can find people anywhere—motels, clubs, parking lots, grocery stores. If you like kids, you can go to schools or find them on the streets. You can drive anywhere, see what you want, and just get it. But you gotta have the nerve. If you don’t have the nerve, don’t bother.”

“Makes sense,” Jason deadpanned.

“Yeah, you got to get people away from others ‘cause they scream a lot. You make short cuts,” said Lucas, showing us in pantomime how to torture a victim with a knife. “You kind of design ’em, is what you call it.”

Jason and I both nodded our heads. I was dumbfounded. Couldn’t say a word if I’d wanted to.

“Never commit a murder the same way,” Lucas continued, “that is, if you want to get away with it.” He seemed to be checking things off in his head. And all the while I couldn’t stifle the thought that these rules he was listing matched exactly the methodology he had used to commit his own crimes.

“You need to travel a lot, always switch cars, do it different each time, a different way.”

Yes, this is
exactly
what he did.

“Do your stuff at night,” he instructed, his one good eye (the other is glass) looking off into the distance as if he was fondly recalling favorite murders. Then his eye locked back on us, and his characteristically soft voice became firm: “You gotta pick someone up at night.”

He continued, checking off another dozen items that any self-respecting serial killer should take into consideration when practicing his craft. Finally, he got to the last on his list.

“Most of all”—he laughed briefly, then coughed into his hand—“don’t confess.” Then he started laughing again.

As amazed as I was by Lucas’s frankness, I was more impressed by the skill Jason had shown in procuring this information.

Even now, I look at him and can’t believe how young he is.

• • •

In the end, what are we to make of Jason’s story?

Even before publication, this account has found sufficient readers to make it possible to categorize the most common reactions.They are:

(1) “Jason is probably a budding sociopath and serial killer himself—he did this research so he wouldn’t make the same mistakes as those who got caught.”

(2) “Jason is some kind of weirdo who’s confused about his sexual identity and who used his correspondence to try out different roles.”

(3) “Jason was a self-centered kid whose youth pre- vented him from appreciating how dangerous and misguided his actions were.”

(4) “Jason is a complex, nervy risk-taker driven at times by noble objectives and at other times by motives deeply rooted in his unusual upbringing.”

It is the last category of opinion that I think comes closest to the truth. I can assure you that Jason is hardly a budding criminal, nor is he sexually confused. True, he can come across as self-important, but remember, these were the actions of an eighteen-year-old boy trying to prove himself. He was attempting to escape conflicts at home, yet afraid to venture too far away. He wanted to distinguish himself in some way but felt he could only do so by competing with others. Such was the emptiness of his egoistic pursuits that he continually found himself taking on more grandiose projects, hoping for the triumph that would bolster his esteem and prove to others he was special.

• • •

Like most of us, Jason has a dark side, a part of himself that is both repulsed by and drawn to violence and murder. The difference is that rather than merely read books or see movies about killers, he wants to get still closer to these predators, perhaps even to slay them symbolically. There is certainly an altruistic motive to Jason’s behavior; he really does enjoy the role of white knight rescuing the peasants from marauding bandits. His college years were devoted to one social service job after another, and I predict that will continue well into his adult life.

Jason would, however, be the first to admit that he genuinely enjoys stepping into the deviant world, especially among those who obey no rules except those they create. Does he want to be like these killers? Again, I don’t think so. I believe him when he says that he wants to conquer, or at least understand, that which terrifies him the most. I also think that, like many of us, he is intrigued with the novelty and intense visceral stimulation that comes from studying the behavior of chronic killers. These are people who engage in the most ruthless behavior imaginable without a hint of remorse. They laugh in the face of danger—at least the kind they can control.

• • •

Jason’s narrative brings up several aspects that warrant further exploration. The first can be summed up by a remark I’ve often heard from people who’ve read the story: “How did he ever get his parents to let him do such a thing?” Indeed, it
is
hard to believe that anyone would let their kid spend his spring break on Death Row, alone in a cell with a killer.

In this lone respect, I think Jason’s narrative fails to do justice to his guile. In my judgment, Jason’s parents are honest, hardworking, responsible people. They care deeply about the welfare of their sons and have devoted their lives to giving them the best shot at life possible. In spite of their complaints about how difficult Jason was to raise, they’re immensely proud of what he has accomplished.

In reflecting on their allowing Jason to pursue his project to such bizarre lengths, I chalk it up to his infuriating effectiveness as a persuader. If Jason decided that he wanted to do something, I don’t believe anyone could stop him, least of all his parents, who had other problems to deal with.

A second aspect of the story that merits further comment is its portrayal of the “point of transaction” between killer and victim—the exact moment when the prey is reeled in. Prior to Jason’s account, we actually knew very little about this encounter and why otherwise intelligent, capable individuals wound up being deceived and trapped.

I find it significant that Jason, a kickboxer and weightlifter who towered over Gacy, was brought under the killer’s complete control by words alone. In spite of Jason’s rationalizations that he could have overpowered Gacy at any moment, it appears that he was saved by the bell—or, rather, was rescued by Gacy’s nephew, who happened to arrive on the scene. Even today this nags at Jason—it was okay to
pretend
to be a victim, but he’ll never forgive himself for actually being trapped in that role.

Credit Gacy, who was as sensitive and perceptive as any trained psychologist, for sizing up Jason’s vulnerabilities (just as Jason was doing with Gacy). By alternating between two distinct personas—by switching from good cop to bad cop—he was able to keep the young man off balance.

Of course, victims like Jason are not only paralyzed by the killer himself but by the very
idea
of him. Throughout his prison visit, the thought repeatedly passed through Jason’s mind, “I can’t believe who this guy is! I can’t believe what he’s done! To think these same hands touching me now also killed dozens of others.” This sort of thinking can turn even the strongest legs to jelly.

Where Jason erred most was in his own perceived invincibility. Like any young person, and certainly like any amateur, he believed himself infallible. He made the one mistake that a police officer learns the first day on the job: don’t underestimate anyone.Jason certainly possessed a seasoned cop’s suspicious nature, but he lacked the experience. He got carried away with himself, lost his objectivity, turned the whole episode into a test of his virility. It was as if he was big-game hunting, after the most dangerous animal he could imagine; no matter what happened, he intended to win in the end. If he hadn’t caught Gacy on tape confessing to blackmail, I’m convinced he would have found another way to feel like he’d captured his prize.

The same was true with the others as well. Jason believed he could outwit, out-think, and outmaneuver any of the killers.Perhaps so, provided the competition was locked in cages. One can appreciate, though, that once these guys are on the outside (and there are
hundreds
of them currently on the loose), targeted victims have little chance to escape their clutches.

• • •

Ultimately, Jason’s adventure leaves us with a number of insights. For example, Jason discovered a whole world of deception operating within the network of Death Rows across the nation. Several of the killers confessed to massive fabrications during their debriefings by police and psychologists. In these sessions, they admitted to crimes they never committed. They used information they’d gained from other inmates to muddle investigations in progress and they learned to fudge their responses on supposedly sophisticated psychological instruments. Authorities forget that just as they themselves share data and consult with one another, so too do various killers.