When the Monster Comes Out of the Closet Westley Allan Dodd In His Own Words

BY Lori Steinhorst And John Rose

Copyright © 1994 by John R. Rose

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, transmitted, copied or retrieved by any means whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher, except for brief quota¬tions which may be used in critical articles and reviews.

Rose Publishing 3303 Ward Court NE Salem, Oregon 97305 When The Monster Comes Out of the Closet I arrived in Vancouver already planning to kill boys. I would find a way to bring them to my home, rape them, and kill them. I found a job and moved into an apartment. Unfortunately (I felt at the time) I would not be able to get a child into my apartment without the landlady seeing us. I decided I would have to find a child in an isolated area like the park along the river in Richland years earlier, or find a child in an area where I could get him into my car without attracting attention and drive to an isolated area. I got a map and drove around town trying to find areas where children might be playing without adult supervision. I found a park, it had a heavily wooded area that children liked to play in. I walked through the park, paying attention to the terrain, nearby buildings, etc. I went home and started writing down my plans for finding and isolating one or more boys. I re-read the plans, and when I didn't like something I changed it. I would run a scenario through my mind, picturing the layout of the park. Where should I approach kids, where should I avoid them? What if I saw one boy on the swings and asked if he wanted to "see something neat in the woods?" No — someone may later remember seeing a man of my description talking to the boy before his death. 1 would hide in the woods and walk the trails, hoping to come across a boy or boys already playing there. When I saw a boy or boys, I'd secretly watch them a few minutes to be sure no one else was in the area. Two boys I could handle together, but more than that and I'd have to find a way to separate them somehow. If I told a group of four to pull down their pants, I could be sure at least one would get away and be able to identify me later. I re-read my plans (my diary), and figured out a new plan. If I found a group of kids, Id ask if they wanted to see a cave I had found in the hillside. I was a boy once — I know how they love to explore things like caves. If they didn't want to see it, I'd leave. If they did, I'd explain only one person could go up the trail at a time. I would already know which one I wanted to rape, and he'd be the last one I would "show the cave to." One at a time I'd take them up the hillside. Once out of sight of the others, I'd pull a knife out of my pants and stab the child from behind, then hide the body in the bushes and go back to lead the next one to the "cave." When just one was left, he'd be raped, then killed. If I felt I had to leave the park quickly, I may just suck on his penis before killing him. If there were girls in the group, I'd kill them and rape a boy. If all I could find was girls, I would rape one of them, but I much preferred boys. Finally, I felt I had planned for every possible "emergency" that may arise. I wrote that I had had an erection 24 hours a day for the last few days (while making my plans) and the only way "to make it soft again" was to find a boy. I wrapped a long cord around my waist, under my shirt, and tucked a fishing knife (with a 6" blade) into my sock, under my pants leg, then drove to the park. After careful planning, this was the day I would finally enter the park and not leave until I had raped and killed. By this time I had become completely obsessed with the idea of raping and killing. But on that Saturday, I saw a few kids in those woods, but for one reason or other didn't approach them. In a couple groups, at least one was too old (12 or older was too old — I didn't feel comfortable even trying to kill a 12 yr. old to get him out of the way. I had to be sure I could control the kids. I was not doing this just to have the feeling of control or power, but if I was going to get away with murder I had to be able to control the situation). One boy was alone, but I had seen adults nearby just a couple minutes earlier. All day on Sunday — same problems. By Monday I was frustrated. I was eager for "my first kill," but after two days had "come up empty." I didn't really believe in Satan and had never considered joining a cult or anything like that, but I thought "it couldn't hurt — who knows?" I wrote up a "contract" with Satan and told him he could have my soul if he'd help me find boys and get away with my crimes. All morning Monday — no kids in the park. I went home for some lunch and returned. About 4 p.m., I went home. While eating dinner I was really disappointed. I hadn't found a kid I could safely approach for three days of searching and school would start the next day, making it even harder to find children alone somewhere. I HAD to give it one last try! I went back to the park and started down the main trail to the woods. A couple hundred yards in, I found two boys playing on a side trail. They were a little older than what I wanted to approach, but this may be my last chance for some time. They were better than nothing. I walked up to them and said, "Hi." They also said "Hi," then I said "I want you two to come with me." They asked why and I said "Just come with me." One of them asked "What about our bikes?" I said they'd better bring them so no one would steal them. I made sure I didn't touch the bikes, I didn't want to leave any fingerprints. I had been to jail, had been fingerprinted, one fingerprint now would positively identify me as the killer, whether there was any other evidence or not. The boys followed as I led them down the trail to the most secluded area of the park. As we walked I asked their names and ages, Billy, 10 and Cole, 11. Well, I'd just molest Billy and get out of there, Cole was too old. Because of H—, [another child] I knew that 10 year olds didn't have pubic hair, but I knew that an 11 year old might (I had molested R— when he was younger, played all those "games" with him, but I once made an attempt to molest him when he was 11, and learned he had moved back into the area and asked him to spend the weekend with me, but now he had grown some pubic hair, I didn't like it.) So I would rape Billy, the 10 year old, then kill them both. I'd kill the one I raped so he couldn't report me and because the idea of killing was just as exciting as the rape. The other would die because I couldn't leave any witnesses. Walking down the trail I warned them not to talk to two older boys I saw on another trail, the other boys were leaving the park (good!). Billy and Cole were trying to find an explanation for what was happening. "Do you want us to help you find something? Do you want to show us something?" I said "You'll see, don't worry, it's nothing bad." I was trying to keep them calm. We were not yet in an isolated area, I didn't want them to run from me here. In another area, I'd chase them, but not there, we made be seen. As we neared the area where I was going to lead them away from the trail I started becoming just as scared as I was excited. I told them to "leave your bikes here, they should be safe for a few minutes." They followed me into the trees and bushes, away from the trail. I began thinking "this is it. The point of no return. But can I really kill? Td never come this close to killing before." I said "OK, here should be a good spot. Before I tell you why I brought you here, I have to know you trust me." I pulled out the cord from under my shirt and told the boys to put their hands behind their backs. I think they asked why (I don't remember for sure). I remem¬ber telling them it was a game to see who could get untied first, and they would show they trusted me by letting me tie their hands, with a promise to let them go if they couldn't get loose. They were bright boys. They knew there was something wrong, I could tell they were scared, but they didn't resist. They didn't know what might happen next, but apparently they were too scared to try to resist being tied up, they did what I told them to do. The cord was about 5 feet long. I used one end of it on Cole's hands, the other on Billy's. They had their hands tied behind their backs, and they were also tied to each other, no way they could run in opposite directions if they didn't like what I said next. Up until the point I told them I was going to tie their hands they could have escaped. I was probably almost as scared as they were. I would not have chased them, and if they had yelled I would have run. Until I said I was going to tie them, no real crime had occurred. But once I had tied them, I was committed to completing my plans. Once tied, a yell for help would have brought instant death whether I had molested or raped yet or not. Both courageous young boys died at the hands of Westley Allan Dodd on September 4, 1989. Their names were Cole and William Neer. I was scared, I had actually killed. I really did it. When I left the park I went home, took a hot shower, then went to visit my dad. I had to get my mind off of what Id done. God, I could get the death penalty if they could pin the murders on me. I watched the news VERY closely. After 4 or 5 days the police were saying "no clues, no motive, no weapon found, no eyewitness, no suspects." They had no idea at all what the hell had happened. I wondered if it was a trick to "lure me out." I didn't think so, but I had read that killers "return to the scene of the crime," and could be expected to do certain things. I made sure I didn't do those things. I went to work and agreed with the talk in the break room the day after the murders — "// was terrible — who could do such a thing," etc. — After 8 or 9 days, I knew I had gotten away with a double murder. And, in fact, the only evidence to connect me with the murders was the diary found in my apartment. That scared feeling went away. Within 2 weeks I was trying to decide what to do with the next victims! By Friday, October 27, 1989,1 was ready to bring a boy to my apartment. This being the first, I would fuck him, kill him, then experiment, so I wouldn't need to worry about any drugs, antiseptics, or the like. I bought some regular tweezers and some special model-building tweezers, which behaved like clamps. I could use them to temporarily clamp the larger arteries. I would of course apply a tourniquet just before amputation to minimize loss of blood. He'd be dead of course, and wouldn't bleed, but I would practice as if I wanted to keep him alive. I bought a set of exacto knives, which would be my "scalpels." I found a very small diameter rod that I could insert into the urine tract to keep it open when I closed the wound. I bought film for my Polaroid camera, to take pictures of the boy before and after his death. The people in Vancouver — just 7 weeks after the unexplained deaths of the Neer boys — were paranoid. Things were pretty hot. A composite drawing of "a person of interest" had been released to the media and posters were in every place of business. (Apparently, no one thought the drawing resembled me — though that is who it was supposed to be.) So, I would just go across the border to Portland, Oregon, and find a boy there to bring home — big city — kids disappear all the time. All day at work on Friday the 27th, I hoped to get to Portland before dark to find a boy. I was ready for anything. I got off work too late on Friday, but on Saturday morning I headed into Portland to find a boy I could spend the day and night molesting, and to experiment on, on Sunday. I headed for a large park I had located on a map. It was bordered by a wild bird refuge on one side, a mortuary on another, and nice family housing on the other two sides. Yes — there were plenty of children, but there were also too many adults. On the way home Saturday night I noticed a school in a residential area — I would check it out Sunday morning. Sunday morning — the school looked good to me, but no kids. I spent the morning at the park — no kids that I could safely approach, or if I could, I couldn't get them to my car without being seen with the child. About I pm or so on Sunday, Oct. 29, 1989,1 returned to the school. There were three 8-10 yr. olds — 2 playing football and one watching. The one watching was half-way between the 2 playing ball and a boy of about 4 playing on a concrete mound. He had his back to the 4 yr. old. I parked, but saw 2 ladies walking down the sidewalk, so I left. Later police reports indicated that the ladies had seen me, but I had left without a boy. They didn't know I circled the block and came back, parking on the side of the school opposite of where the boys were playing. No one appeared to be watching from nearby houses. I approached the little boy after watching him, the other boys, and the general vicinity for a couple minutes. I walked back behind the school, then back towards the little boy. I said Hi and asked if he was having fun. He indicated by shrugging his shoulders. Apparently it was not too much fun sitting on a concrete mound all by himself. I asked if he'd like to make some money. "How?" "Come help me work on my house." He wasn't too sure, so I said "OK — we'll just play some games and have fun and I'll still give you money — it'll be fun." He hesitated, so I reached out my hand — the reaction of that little boy was to take the hand that I offered in friendship. He got up and walked with me. The whole time, I had seen no adults around, and the other boys hadn't looked over. I suspected that the one watching the 2 playing was my "new friend's" older brother. I had gone out that day prepared to bring two children home if I couldn't separate them and secretly kill one on sight. I picked the boy up as we rounded the corner of the school, and he said "my brother will miss me." I said "your brother's having fun playing with those other boys." Now I knew that was this boy's brother. The boy in my arms wasn't making a fuss. I knew that if his 8-9 yr. old brother came after him, I could control the older boy by threatening the boy in my arms, or I could say the little one was hurt and I was giving him a ride home — the older one could "show me the way to his house," and I'd have them both. If I got them both, when it came time for my surgical experiments I'd tie, gag, and blindfold the smallest one, kill the older and do my experiments, then render the younger, smaller one unconscious and work on him while still alive. (They'd of course both be molested first — one doing oral on me at the same time I did oral on the other.) But — the older boy never came after the boy I had found. As I carried the boy to my car I said — "We'll go ask your dad if you can come to my house." That seemed to relieve him a bit, and he said "I live in the yellow house." That relieved me a bit! There were no yellow houses in sight, so his parents would not see him getting into my car. I started to drive off and he pointed down a side street saying, "I live down there." I then said "Well, we're not going to your house, we're going to my house." He said he forgot his coat, I said his brother would get it. After that he didn't talk except to answer my questions. Name? Lee. Do you know your last name? Just a shrug. (That's OK, I'd find out on the news later.) How old? 4. His eyes started to water. I talked about how much fun we'd have and his eyes dried up. Three times during the 45 minute drive to my house I was able to prevent the coming tears. — West ley Allan Dodd By 6 am October 30, 1989, this boy also had died at the hands of Westley Dodd. What he experienced before and after death is too horrible to detail. He was a brave, strong, little boy who did not succumb until he was hung after being molested, choked, and suffocated. His name was Lee Joseph Iseli. The preceding words were written by Westley Allan Dodd who was executed for his crimes, child molestation and murder. He was a true preferential child molester and one of a very few who was willing to talk. The authorities waited too long to listen to what he was saying. If you have children, grandchildren, or know someone who does, it's time you listened. If not, more children are going to end up victims of predators like Wes. In the United States approximately 200-300 children are abducted by strangers each year. As parents and grandparents we look at raising children as we were brought up. Remember when we could give children money and send them to the store for a loaf of bread and they would actually make it to the store and back . . . alive? As a child I was able to attend the movies without adult supervision. But, those days are gone. Remember going to the park to play or sending your child or children to the park for good clean fun and recreation. Today the "Human Predator" stalks the playgrounds, malls, parks, schools, and many other places children can be found. These predators are looking to kill your child or children exactly as Westley Allan Dodd and others did and are still doing. They watch your home and take the latch key children or enter family homes to take the child while the family sleeps. It is not my intention to frighten you, but hopefully this book will help you understand who may be "Right Next Door" or down the street. Like it or not, YOU are involved. Most of this book is constructed from the handwritten words of West- ley Allan Dodd. Wes and the author agreed on two things: 1) Children should not have to suffer at the hands of a pedophile or human predator 2) Dodd's execution was the only possible remedy, for him and for the public. Westley Allan Dodd will tell you in his own words how a predator thinks and goes about abducting, molesting, and killing your kids. The thoughts expressed by this young pedophile were too terrible to comprehend and certainly no sane person could ever hope to grasp any avenue of understanding; however, IF these writings can save one child or one parent from the pain of losing a child, it will be worthwhile. In Wes' own words he takes you from his early years when he first started exposing himself as a teen, to molesting, then killing and the hangman's rope . . . Westley Allan Dodd was executed in the Washington State Penitentiary at Walla Walla by hanging on Monday . . . January 5, 1993. (If you have not read the "introduction" to this book, please do so now to understand what is happening with the letters, notes, etc.) Part I Getting To Know Your Local Pedophile Author's Comment: The purpose of printing these letters is to expose the innermost thoughts of a man determined to destroy the lives of innocent children. As the author, I realize the graphic nature of their contents. But how else could I help you better understand the dangers your children face if I do not share them with you? - LS Death Row, Washington State Prison, Walla Walla: August 22, 1991 Dear Officer Steinhorst: I do not have time right now to write down everything I'd like to say. At this point I just want to let you know I received your letter, and when things settle down, hopefully in 2 or 3 weeks, I'll try to get a few things on paper for you. No, I don't have psychologists picking my brain. They are all sure they already know all there is to know about sex-offenders, so why can't they stop them? I do have one lady visiting. She has studied Psychology and Criminology, did an internship with this Tacoma Police Department, is learning all she can about me and my past, and is giving seminars to law enforcement, mental health, and other agencies that want to learn more about child molesters. I also spent 3 very long days with 2 special agents from the National Center for the Analysis of Violent Crimes, Behavioral Science Unit, at the FBI Academy in Virginia. I am currently working with 4 attorneys that represent the families of my victims. They are suing the state, one county, a probation officer, and at least one of my former psychologists. In a 16 year period, 1 was reported to police 12 times, made full confessions the last 11 times, was arrested only 6 times, and prosecuted only 3 times, spending no more than 4 months in jail twice, and only 19 days the other time. In 1988 I was living with a 4 year old boy or he was living with me. My probation terms said "NO" contact with children. My probation officer found out, but did not report the violation, and only told me to move. There was evidence 1 had molested the boy, but he ignored that. A search of my home would have revealed photos of me molesting the boy. I failed a polygraph, and my probation officer and psychologist let me get away with my violations and new crimes. One county even now has outstanding charges on me from 1985, but no arrest warrant was ever issued. They could have put me in prison for at least 10 years, and those boys would still be alive, but they didn't think the rape of a 9 year old boy by a repeat offender was very serious, I guess. If you want to know the whys, ask this state why they let me go free 75% of the times I was reported. "Yes, I performed oral sex on those boys, just like they said," "OK, go home, we're not filing charges." They didn't even try to put me into any kind of counseling program! Anyway, I committed the crimes. When I get a chance, I'll write a few pages about me, the way I saw things at the time, and how I see them now, what was going through my mind, etc. I can't tell you why I started abusing children, but I can tell you how and why I progressed from exposing myself at age 13 to murder at age 28, and 1 can tell you why the few half-hearted attempts to stop me failed. Right now my cooperation with those four attorneys takes a lot of time writing letters & answering their questions. Also at this time I'm working on a case to get this state to allow condemned men to donate vital organs, if they must, in fact, die — this also is time consuming. And, my former appeals attorneys are filing briefs this week with the State Supreme Court. My current attorney and I are working to block their effort — I will not beg for my life, nor will I allow anyone else to do so — not after what I've done. Everything is happening at once. Like I said, hopefully in 2 or 3 weeks I'll be able to write a much longer letter in an attempt to answer your letter. I do not want to see any more children hurt, nor do I want to see anyone else destroy their own lives in the process, as I did. Sincerely, Wes Dodd Westley Tells About His Childhood December 14, 1991 Dear Lori: I'll now tell you about my childhood and family. At times I may mention the Tri-Cities instead of a specific city or town. The Tri-Cities are Richland, Kennewick, and Pasco. They make up the fourth largest metropolitan area in this state. Other towns in the Tri City area that I lived in are West Richland and Benton City. I was born in Toppenish, Washington on July 3, 1961. My brother was born in Kirkland, Washington on June 5, 1962. I do not know why the family had moved. I know my parents lived in the Toppenish area when they married, that Dad worked in a grocery store, and my uncle (Dad's brother) lived in Toppenish. Dad's other brother lived in Kirkland. Kirkland is a city of 50,000, and is next door to Seattle. Toppenish is a small town, maybe 6- 7,000, 80% minorities, Indian & Mexican. Perhaps after I was born and another on the way, Dad felt he could get a better paying job in the bigger city. My sister was born May 29, 1965 in Kennewick, Washington, and it is about this time my memories begin. I do not know when or why we moved to Kennewick. I do know Dad worked as a milkman (door to door delivery) and my grandfather ran the dairy. My parents bought the house we lived in. I still remember the address. I know we lived there when my sister was born and we moved in the spring of 1969 when 1 was 7 yrs. old. In that house I can remember watching Dad build a patio and partial roof over it. Grandpa (Dad's Dad) helped him. They had borrowed a cement mixer from a neighbor. Grandpa thought I was really strong when I helped him with a bag of concrete mix (I was only 4 or 5 at the time!). Then they built a fish pond in the backyard under a willow tree. We had a large garden with just about everything in it. I remember watching and wanting to help paint the house (2 tone brown). We had a merry-go-round in the backyard. My paternal grandparents lived just down the street and spent most holidays with us. Dad could do everything. I watched him build a beautiful bookcase. The earliest memory I can put a date to is watching dad build a cradle. It would swing or you could lock it in place, neat! I remember he built it because there was going to be a new baby. He was building it before my sister was born and I was 3 yrs. 10 mos. old when she was born. I can remember sitting in a chair on the dining room table watching 'Lassie' while Dad cut my hair. I can remember seeing mom breast feed my sister during one of my haircuts. My brother and I used to like to race around the backyard. In the winter Dad built a slide about 4-5 feet tall and covered it in snow so we could slide down it or he'd take us up the big hill behind our house. Our dog Coco slept under the bathroom sink. I thought she was so smart. I could say "go to bed" and she'd head for the bathroom sink. I remember our grandparents baby-sitting us one day in the summer of 1966, I was 4 or 5?, then Mom and Dad came home in a new car. I remember the excitement of a new car but I can also say it was a 1966 Plymouth Belvedere and it was yellow (I bought it from my Mom when I turned 16). I remember getting an electric race car set one Christmas. It was a lot of fun. G— and R — lived next door. We played a lot together and I remember walking to and from Kindergarten class with R—. We played "Red rover," Tag, Hide-n-seek, War, all the childhood games. Oh, I had my tonsils out when I was 5 or 6. We lived in Kennewick which had a hospital, but I went to the hospital in Richland. I can remember peeing my pants when Mom and a nurse were getting me ready. I was afraid to say I had to go until it was too late. I also remember throwing up all over myself in the recovery room. The nurse was very nice. I've told you all this so you know my memory is OK. I have many very clear memories, dating back to at least 3!/2 yrs. old when dad built the cradle. I went through kindergarten, 1st and most of 2nd grade at Eastgate Elementary. Before school ended in 1969 we moved to Yakima, Washington. (Dad was real mad at my uncle because he insisted on paying for the moving truck). We lived in a house on Pleasant Avenue for 2 years. 1 was behind in school, Kennewick taught cursive writing in 3rd grade but in Yakima my 2nd grade class was already writing. I had learned it by the time school ended a month or so later. We moved to Yakima because the private dairy Dad worked for went out of business. He got a job with a well known dairy product manufacturer in Yakima. We had a peach tree in the back yard, good for climbing and I loved fresh peaches and cream. I'm sure I had gotten into trouble before, after all, that's a kid's job! But it was in Yakima that I have my first memory of dad being mad at us kids. My sister had a battery powered toy telephone set, one phone was in her bedroom, the other in our playroom in the basement. Dad had been playing on the phone with us all day (I was about 8 at the time). Us kids, still playing, decided not to answer the phone. Dad became angry because he had to walk to the top of the steps to call us up for dinner. I remember thinking that must have really tired him out, he had to take 5 or 6 extra steps — but I did not dare say anything. Dad was quick to punish. Usually he'd just talk, not yell, but it was very clear, HE WAS PISSED. Occasionally, usually when we lied in addition to doing something wrong, he'd spank us with his belt. It never really hurt, but he got his point across. Psychologists have asked if we kids had to pull our pants down for spankings, thinking this may have caused my "problems" but this is not the case. We were spanked over our pants, never on a bare butt. And no, there were never any bruises or welts. While Dad was quick to punish, I don't remember ever receiving any praise nor did my parents ever say "I love you." We were never hugged. We were never physically abused in anyway nor was there any sexual abuse at all. There was no affection but we were always doing fun things as a family. There was plenty of money, Christmas & birthdays brought plenty of toys, plenty of good food — just no love. Other than a lack of love, we were the perfect family. The summer of 1970, just before my 9th birthday, my brother and my sister went to get their tonsils out. I spent the weekend with my cousin who is one month older than I am. I really liked him, he always knew what to do, whether we were astronauts, doctors, army men or something else, there was never a boring minute with him. He had a friend, our age, over that weekend also. The three of us boys were (in) my cousin's room after "swimming" in his wading pool in the yard. I don't recall what was said, but they must have told me something they had done and probably didn't believe so they showed me. They pulled their swim trunks down and my cousin touched the "end of his pee thing" to the end of his friend's penis. I then did it with my cousin. I don't remember what I thought about that but I'm sure that I wasn't troubled by it and that's the only time it happened. Later that summer, at age 9, when alone in the small swimming pool in my own backyard, I pulled my swim trunks to my knees and crawled around the pool once. It was very exciting, my heart was beating fast. Another time that summer, after a bath, I rubbed hand lotion on my stomach and groin, genitals and butt. I knew it was "nasty" but it was very exciting. It was also dangerous in that I would be very embarrassed if Mom knew I had used her hand lotion "down there". Psychologist tell me all this was probably just normal childhood curiosity and experimentation and I agree. Before school started that year, Mom made me show my new pants to two aunts. I had to change in front of them. At age 9, I wasn't so modest that I didn't want Mom to see me in my underwear, but I was uncomfortable having my aunts see me in my underwear. Could that incident have contributed to my starting to expose myself 4 years later? I don't know. We moved after just 2 years in Yakima, again shortly before school ended. It was the spring of 1971 and I was in the 4th grade. I finished the 4th grade in Umatilla, Oregon (population 580,1 was mad because they wouldn't change the sign to 585 when we moved in). Dad had been transferred. Our house on Cherry Street overlooked the Columbia River about Wi miles down river from McNary Dam. Mom would take us for walks to the dam in the summer when dad was working. That summer I turned 10. X— and Y— moved in next door. X— was my age, 10, Y— was my sister's age, 6. I have no idea at all whose idea it was but Y—, my sister and I ended up in the garage. We watched Y— pull her pants down then I pulled mine down. Y— wouldn't "look at mine," said she'd "seen it on other boys," but my sister looked. I was disappointed that Y— wouldn't look at me. Some wonder if that contributed to my later preference for boys, it did not. I preferred boys because I could do more with boys than girls, boys didn't report me as often as girls, I found more boys than girls alone in parks, and of the kids I knew, most just happened to be boys. However, I also considered raping and killing girls, if I saw a girl instead of one of the boys I killed, then a girl it would have been. I started playing clarinet in the 5th grade. Then after just one year in Umatilla, and again just shortly before school ended, we moved. At the age of 10, in the spring of 1972, we moved to Richland, Washington. Dad had had to go into the hospital in Umatilla because of his asthma and his doctor wouldn't release him if he was going to go back to working in the cold for the dairy manufacturer, so we moved. I remember crying, I didn't want to move again, I had just made new friends since the last time. But I didn't tell my parents, feelings just were not discussed. I finished 5th grade and all of 6th in Richland. I attended Jr. High and High School in Richland. At age 13, shortly before school ended (spring of 1975), I began exposing myself. At age 14,1 started molesting my younger cousins. By the summer of 1976,1 was a sexual predator, the summer I turned 15. That's the summer my parents divorced. Psychologists jump at that news, thinking the divorce had something to do with my sexual deviancy. NOT TRUE. I began exposing myself about 2 years and 2 or 3 months BEFORE the divorce. I began molesting cousins more than a year BEFORE the divorce. The only thing the divorce did was give me more freedom to leave the house to look for kids. I was set in my ways long before the divorce, the divorce did not cause or contribute to my crimes. I progressed to murder just as a drug user would progress to harder and more dangerous drugs. I needed more and more to get that same "high" or feeling of excitement. I have nothing but fond memories of my childhood and was never abused or neglected in any way. My only complaint is that I never heard my parents say "I love you" and I will never believe that fact could cause me to abuse children for 15VS years — over half my life. NOTHING from my childhood caused me to abuse children. Why did I first expose myself at age 13? I was just reaching puberty, and I knew nothing at all about sex. Perhaps I was just experimenting. But then i got a positive reaction from many children so I kept doing it. When the incidents were reported, the police decided not to press charges. Apparently it was OK to expose myself. I progressed and again the police did nothing. I went on for nearly 10 years before I finally went to jail for 19 days. IT was TOO little TOO LATE. I have been LAUGHING at the so called "justice system" ever since. Even with two felonies on my record I got away with reported crimes. Maybe that's the answer, experimentation at age 13, then murder at age 28 because no one cared what I did to children. They kept turning their backs and letting me walk away. I'm not laughing anymore. I'm too busy crying for all those children, especially for the ones I murdered. For a year and a half now I have been wondering how I could have killed those children two years ago. How did I become that person? Why didn't the justice system stop me instead of turning its back so many times. They had plenty of opportunities, but did nothing! I'm not laughing anymore! I no longer know how. Sex offenders MUST be dealt with SWIFTLY and SEVERELY. They will not just go away. Raping and molesting 5 or 6 children is well worth 4 months in jail — WHAT A JOKE — I used to laugh at that. Now, yet again, this state is fighting to give me the most lenient sentence available. WILL THEY NEVER LEARN? — Westley Allan Dodd Author's Comment: As Wes describes his home life and upbringing, see if you detect anything out of the ordinary. Would you have recognized any sign or symptom of a developing child-molesting murderer? Who would have thought such a thing? - LS

Dear Officer Steinhorst: Everyone seems to think I must have had a terrible childhood. I hate to disappoint them all, but I had a great childhood. I've heard some "experts" say I must have never had any pets to love or care for. As for the pet part — I lived in a zoo! I can vaguely remember a rabbit living in a large cage in our garden — I couldn't have been more than 4 years old. We came home from somewhere (? — camping, visiting relatives — I don't recall) and the rabbit was gone — it had chewed its way out of the cage. In this same period of time, we had a large fish pond (which dad and my grandfather built — I got to work the on/off switch on the portable cement mixer — Grandpa said I was good at it!). The pond, which also had a pump to pump water into a smaller pond behind and above the main pond, was full of goldfish (water between the ponds). Dad did most of the feeding (hey — I was only 4 or 5 yrs. old!), but a couple times a week my brother and I took some bread out to feed them. I recall going out in the winter, chipping ice, and running fresh water into it so it wouldn't freeze solid and kill the fish. (Dad had also carved a row boat and oars out of a chunk of wood — it floated around in the pond). We also had a pet turtle for a while, which lived in/around the fish pond, and in the winter it dug down under the pond. The turtle disappeared — Dad figured it was the neighbor's dog, or the turtle may have headed for the irrigation canal that was about 50 yards behind our house. We had Coco (a cock-a-poo) for as long as I can remember. She was a very smart dog — knew several tricks, and understood several words — bed (as in "go to bed"), bathroom, basement, bath, and especially "Grandpa". Whenever someone said "Grandpa," Coco would get all excited — Coco was a GREAT child's dog — loved to play, fight, be petted — she was very careful with young kids, but she'd play rougher with the older kids. Coco had a "mental problem," though — she was the only dog in town cats weren't afraid of! Coco would chase a cat around the house or up a tree then the cat would turn and chase Coco — (We always had a cat or two around). I remember when I was 9 or 10, Dad had a great idea — he put a stake in the middle of the backyard, and Coco was sure we were going to leave on a trip and leave her tied up in the backyard. But Coco tilted her head (the way dogs do, as if to say "what in the world are you crazy people doing") when Dad tied up the LAWNMOWER. It was a self-propelled mower — start it up and let it go. It would mow the lawn by itself in smaller & smaller circles as the chain wrapped around the stake — but the chain broke, & the lawnmower headed straight for Coco. I don't know what was funnier — Coco's expression when she jumped up to run away from the mower, or our cat's expression when Coco tried to climb a tree! (Coco had seen us kids climbing that tree all the time — we'd tease her and tell her to come up — now she had a good reason to try!) Before it became illegal to buy or sell "wild animals" as pets — I must have been 9 or 10 — we had two chipmunks in large wire cage in our dining room. When they died, they were replaced by parakeets. Two or 3 times a week we'd shut doors and windows, letting the birds fly free in the living room, dining room, and kitchen (only when the oven/stove were not in use — we didn't want a bird to land on a hot burner!). For several years we also had an aquarium full of tropical fish. I remember Mom trying to catch baby guppies to put them in a safe place until they were too big for the other fish to eat. Through all this, Coco would occasionally sit & watch the chipmunks, birds and fish. (We had to keep a close eye on one of cats, but Coco quickly learned that the cat always got chased away from the cage or aquarium, so she helped out a little bit — (Coco just watched — but the cat of course had other thoughts). My sister had a hamster, my brother and I had mice. Somehow, someone put the two mice in the same cage and we found out the hard way what sex they were. Suddenly I had 5 or 6 mice in my cage — so I started trading mice with a couple kids at school (Junior High) who also had mice. And then there was 'Harry'. Dad named him Harry because he was very hairy — hair almost VA inch long, especially on his legs. Yup — very hairy — for a spider! Harry was our pet tarantula. A couple times a month I'd stop at the pet store after school to buy Harry a couple of crickets (he didn't eat much — 2 or 3 crickets a month). When I was about 12, we got a 2nd dog — Brutus — an EXTREMELY STUPID peekapom. It took Coco a little time to get used to another dog in the house, but it was obvious she knew she got more attention than Brutus, so she was pretty happy. We'd had Coco as long as I could remember — at least since I was four years old. Coco finally died of extreme old age (for a dog) when I was 20. I don't know how old she was when we got her — but she was with us at least 16 years. I don't know whatever happened to Brutus. By then I had Annie — a year old pup — mostly German Shepherd, part black Lab, part Great Dane. A beautiful dog, smart, & LOYAL. We lived on an 8-acre "farm." My step-dad had fixed the fences, and was renting the fields out to a couple people — 2 cows in the large field, a horse in the other. My sister had permission from its owner to ride/exercise the horse. One day, driving down our VA mile long driveway, my step-dad saw my dog and his hunting dog sitting in the field — they wouldn't come when called, so he went into the field to get them, and found my sister — she'd been thrown from the horse and knocked out (she was OK — she landed on her head — no serious injury) — the dogs stayed with her the whole time. So — for as long as I can remember, up to the time I joined the Navy — there was always at least one dog in the house, usually a cat, and various other little critters — dogs, cats, chipmunks, gold¬fish tropical fish, turtle, rabbit hamsters, birds, mice, and even a 3 inch long pet spider. I had pets. (I never got up enough courage to ask for the $1800.00 (?) snake (about 5ft. long & 6 inches thick) the local pet shop had for a while!). And of course — by age 10, I'd watched guppies, cats, & dogs give birth. (And at age 24, to put an interesting end to animals — I watched a Black Widow spider give birth. I stepped lightly on a black widow at work one night — hard enough to kill it, but not hard enough to splatter it all over my freshly waxed floor. For a second I thought I'd hit my head and was "seeing stars." I knelt down to get a closer look. Apparently the Black Widow was just about ready to give birth — I thought spiders laid eggs, but apparently Black Widows have LIVE young. I'd managed to split her belly open — I killed ONE Black Widow spider, but now I had about a dozen baby spiders!) Oh yeah — my great Uncle owned a horse ranch (until King County put a new highway through it in the early 80's (late 70's). He had about a dozen of his own horses, and boarded 31 others. When we visited my aunt and uncle in Redmond (Washington), we'd go out and ride horses. Oh, I left out a good story on Coco. We lived in Umatilla, Oregon in a house with a view of the Columbia River. One day we left Coco tied up in the backyard, and went up Kennewick (about a 50 minute drive back then — 30 minutes on the new highway built in the mid-80's). Coco knew we were going to Grandpa's — she didn't like being left behind. (Once when going on a picnic, we found Coco hiding in the trunk of the car — she made sure she wasn't going to be left behind). Anyway, on our way back home that evening, we found Coco running up the highway. ? She'd gotten loose from her chain, gone a 1/2 mile to the river, crossed the bridge, gone about 3A of a mile down one highway, had turned off on another highway (the right one), and gone another Vi mile or so. She was following us. If we hadn't spotted her on the side of the road, I've no doubt she'd have turned up at my grandparents house in a few days (a house we had lived in ourselves 3 years earlier — my parents owned the house, & when we moved out my grandparent's moved in). Enough pet stories!!! I had lots of pets, and have hundreds of stories. I was a lucky kid in other ways (my brother & sister too, of course). We never lived in an apartment — we always had a nice house and a large yard to play in (we were also very close to schools, playgrounds, and city parks, so we always had a place to play). My Dad has two brothers. When I was born on July 3, 1961, we lived in Toppenish, Washington. One uncle and his wife also lived in Toppenish. When my brother was born 11 months later, we lived in Kirkland, Washington, which is where another uncle and his wife lived. (I don't know why we moved — perhaps my uncle told Dad he'd find a better paying job in that area — expecting a second baby — with me still in diapers he'd need all the money he could get!). When my sister, my sister, was born, we lived in Kennewick — where my Dad's parents lived. I don't know the reason for that move, but it was probably for work — he worked (Dad) for a well-known dairy company, delivering milk, ice-cream, etc., door to door. (My grandfather managed the dairy, if I remember right.) We moved to Yakima, Washington, when I was 8 — where my Uncle now lived. I've written about all our moves before, but the interesting point I want to make now is this — we almost always moved to a town that one of Dad's relatives lived in. When we moved to Umatilla, Oregon, it was because Dad was transferred — but it was only 30 miles or so from his parents in Kennewick. Then we moved to Richland only 10 miles from his parents. Dad later moved to Lewiston, Idaho — where his brother then owned a small grocery store. I would have never guessed, but it now seems as if dad was somewhat insecure or something — always having to be near his parents or one of his brothers. Anyway — back to Kennewick. Dad bought the house. I remember watching Dad & Grandpa build a patio with a partial covering, then build the fishpond, (complete with a waterfall from the small upper pond I mentioned into the main pond). We had a fair sized front yard, and huge fenced in backyard. (I was allowed to help for as long as I was interested & useful — neither of which lasts for long with a 4 or 5 year old!). We had a huge garden behind the backyard — raspberries, strawberries, cantaloupe, watermelon, and enough vegetables for us, my grandparents, and three different neighbors. What we didn't have, we traded for from a neighbor's garden. I can remember asking to help in the garden — I was good at picking the fruit, and even learned to pull weeds instead of carrots (once the carrots were big enough!). Those were pretty happy days. I was 3 yrs. & 10 months old when my sister was born in that house (well, at the nearby hospital). I remember watching dad build a real nice cradle that could be rocked, or locked to stay stationary. I remember holding boards while Dad cut and pieced them together, building a bookcase. He was always good "making things." (Working with wood, the patio, fish pond, a "really neat chipmunk cage," . . . ). Mom used to make some of our clothes — she could sew, cook — and when the dining room chairs needed to be recovered, mom was able to do that also. My grandparents lived just down the street so we saw them quite regularly, it was a lot of fun being around them. We had a 4-seat merry-go- round in our backyard, two or more could sit and use your hands & feet to pump, making it spin. The merry-go-round didn't make the move to Yakima with us, but dad bought a swing set to replace it, and it later went to Umatilla with us, and was left there when we moved. (How many kids have a merry- go-round, or even a swing set, in their own backyard?? Swings are common, but still — not all houses have them). Somehow, at least one of our neighbors, wherever we lived, had kids our age, so we always had plenty of other kids to play the usual games with (hide & seek, red rover, midnight ghost, etc.). We had just about all the board games available in the 60's to 70's — Mousetrap, Candy Land, Chutes & Ladders, The Game of Life, Monopoly, Risk, and dozens of others. The usual tricycles as little kids, plus a "tractor" to pedal around. Toys everywhere. Santa had to work overtime at our house every December! Maybe 9 or 10 "good presents" and 2 or 3 "bad presents" (clothes were bad, only toys or games were good!). Electric trains, electric race cars, even a gas-powered airplane (on string, not remote controlled). Bikes, chemistry sets, electronics kits from Radio Shack. Always plenty of games, toys, hobbies, etc., for whatever was appropriate for my age. When we lived at Yakima & Umatilla (I was 8-10 yrs, old), we had a two foot deep "wading pool," which was plenty big for kids our ages. We went to the river or public pool for "real" swimming. A tree house in Umatilla (after dad fixed it up to make it safe to use). We had everything a kid could want or need, yet we weren't spoiled. We didn't get everything we asked for, but we got enough to keep us happy anyway! We were always doing things as a family. In the summer, picnics just about every weekend the weather was nice, sometimes just us, sometimes with relatives or once in a while with neighbors. I remember borrowing the neighbors tent to go camping when I was 5 or 6, and later renting a tent trailer to go camping. I think we went camping at least once a year (and picnics all the time), until I was 13. Then we bought a tent-trailer, camping for our 2- week vacation every summer, and every 2nd or 3rd weekend as well. By the time I turned 15 I'd been camping all over the Cascade mountains in Washington & Oregon, as well as a cabin on the Oregon Coast for a week & camping in the Olympic Mountain Range, as well as all over Eastern Washington at lakes and rivers. By the time I left home, I'd been camping in Idaho & Montana. I'd also seen the Grand Canyon, Utah's Great Salt Lake, Zion National Park, Carlsbad Caverns, we did a lot of things as a family. By age 10, I'd been inside a power turbine at McNary Dam and had toured Grand Coulee Dam. We had a collection of Indian arrowheads — that we had found ourselves. The two week trip to the Grand Canyon, Zion, Carlsbad and Utah (not in that order) was the last as a family. A couple weeks later, I turned 15 and my parents separated. When I was 11 or 12, a UPS truck pulled up in front of our house. That was normal, our neighbor was a free-lance photographer who was always getting his supplies via UPS. I was surprised when the driver came to OUR door, wondering where we wanted him to put several large heavy boxes. Dad had ordered a "Trolboat". It was a canoe that you build from a kit, with a vinyl skin. We liked canoeing so well we went out and bought another canoe at a boat shop. We got a lot of use out of those canoes and had a lot of fun. All our picnics, canoe trips, camping trips, were a lot of fun. When I was about 14, Mom & Dad started arguing about where to go/what to do. That made the drive in the car unpleasant, but once we arrived at wherever they decided to go, things were OK. Of course, since I started exposing myself at age 13,1 had already started pulling away from the rest of the family. I'd go hiking or fishing alone, not caring what the rest of the family was doing. In winter we always lived within easy walking distance of good sledding hills, so we always had sleds to replace our bikes in winter. The tent-trailer & one of the canoes was sold during the divorce. The house we owned, which my grandparents now lived in was also sold in the divorce. But Dad kept the easiest to handle canoe and bought a camper for his pick-up. (The camper was later blown over & destroyed in a windstorm and dad traded the pick-up for a car with MUCH better gas mileage). My junior year in high school, I drove the pickup to school every day, twice the camper was on it. My band friends, of course, accused me of taking the Flag Team (16 girls) to the camper at lunch time! High school band was a lot of fun! The divorce ended all those family trips, of course. But that summer season was nearly over anyway. The following summer, if us kids weren't camping or canoeing with Dad or with Dad, his girlfriend and her kids (they were fun to be around, of course, I molested 2 of her 3 kids), then we were going on fishing or camping/fishing trips with Mom & her new husband. The fun continued. But I didn't have much time for fun anymore. Now I get the feeling that you and everyone else are taking those isolated incidents and blowing them way of proportion. I don't like that. My childhood, especially my early childhood was a happy time. I'm getting damned tired of people trying to portray me as some kind of victim. It is just not true. The things I remember about Dad that make me angry at him didn't occur until AFTER I had started molesting children. And most of what I hate Dad for happened in the 4 or 5 years before I killed. Nothing Dad or anyone else did contributed to my molesting children. It eventually progressed from molesting to killing, not because of some outside influence, but because I had to kill to prevent being reported. But to be able to actually kill, I had to make that act exciting. Like I said on another page, I can't blame Dad for not being interested in my activities, I never told him what my activities were! (Until it was too late, then I tried to blame him rather than accept the fact that it was MY fault for not telling him!). How could I expect him to come to my concert when he didn't know I was having one? So you see, I tend to blame others for my own faults. Yes, I was mad at Dad for coming to just one of my plays and for being critical. But it wasn't what I've made it out to be. He merely pointed out that I should try to talk louder on stage because the audience couldn't hear me. I took it as severe criticism because I don't like to have faults or inadequacies pointed out. But he was right. I COULDN'T be heard by the audience which is probably why he didn't like to come to my plays. A play is no good if you can't hear one of the leading character's lines! I blame a lot on Dad because it's easier than accepting the fact that I'm not superior in everything I do. When he saw me working at a convenience store one day, I was angry — I was checking fast and thought he couldn't accept that I was good at what I did. He thought my fast jerky hand movements may be the result of thyroid problems. I felt he was criticizing me, but he wasn't. He was showing concern for my health. Thyroid problems run in the family, and I have always been hyperactive. I HAVE to stay busy and move fast. I'm always in a rush, even when there's no need. Believing Dad was criticizing me for my good work was easier to accept than admitting that he might be right, that there was something physically wrong with me. I like to think of myself as some sort of superman that never gets ill. I have actually ignored advice of doctors, saying they don't know what they're doing rather than accept that there is something wrong with me! Maybe that's what's been bothering me so much lately. I'm finally growing up, and realizing that I have no valid reason for being angry with Dad. And Mom? She tried to do things with us kids but it was I who refused to participate. I can remember living in Yakima (so 1 was 8 or 9 at the time) and my brother and my sister would comb and curl Mom's hair, but I never joined in. That's my fault, not Mom's! My childhood was happy, no problems with Mom or Dad. The problems didn't start until I started exposing myself and molesting others, then I withdrew and avoided others so they wouldn't find out about what I was doing. And when I was caught, Dad did try to help me. But the idea that I needed help implied that I wasn't perfect, so I fought Dad every step of the way and became angry with him for even THINKING I needed help. I got VERY ANGRY when Dad told my Navy commanding officer where I might be found when I took an unauthorized absence. I was angry at Dad, but it was I, not HE, who had done something wrong. I felt betrayed, but fact of the matter is, his turning me in gave me an unauthorized absence charge instead of AWOL or desertion! He helped me but I took it as betrayal. So, my Dad is not the bad guy people think, nor is he even as bad as what I've made him out to be. What Dad is, is my scapegoat. Nothing he did caused any of my actions. He tried to let me know I wasn't some sort of God and I RESENTED him for that. I was not overly punished as a child. When I was punished I deserved it and it was usually Dad just talking about what I'd done wrong, then sent to my room to think about it. I was punished no differently than my brother or my sister. Everything that's happened I brought on myself. The times 1 got angry with Dad were times that I myself had done something wrong. No one caused me to have problems. I caused them myself. How could 1 expect love and attention from my parents when I was never home to receive it? It's hard to get a hug from someone you're never around. You can't get praise from your parents when you don't let them know you've done something! So please, in your book, don't do anything to imply I had a terrible childhood, it wasn't. I have no valid reasons for my anger toward Dad. Millions of kids have it a hell of a lot worse than I did, but they don't do what I've done. Yeah, it hurt when Dad told me about my brother's concert, gee, HE never WENT to mine. Dad never knew about mine until an hour beforehand, and I never asked him to go. My brother told Dad a couple weeks beforehand and ASKED dad to go. Dad had to get up at 4 in the morning to go to work. He'd be asleep long before the concert was over. But with the advance warning my brother gave him, Dad had time to rearrange his work schedule. Yeah, it Hurt! —but it was my own fault, which again implied that I wasn't perfect —so I got ANGRY at Dad. February 8, 1992 Lori: When I told you about things that happened while I was at work, I said I'd tell you more about the summer camp I taught at, but I forgot to tell you about the camp because of an incident involving one 10 year old boy under my care one week. The camp is a year-round Christian camp — it is rented out to various church groups. But every July it is used as a music camp. I was a "double duty" counselor at that music camp in the summers of 1979, '80, '81. and '82. (In 1982 while I was on military leave). In the summers of 80, 81, and 82 we held four separate camps, each lasting one week. Two weeks for grades 10- 12, one week for grades 7-9, and one week for grades 6 and under. The music camp was for any and all students that played a band or orchestra instrument. The year I want to talk about is 1979. That year I served as both a music counselor (one of 3 clarinet teachers and a workshop leader), and as cabin counselor (keep the kids alive for a week!). That year we had only three separate one week camps, one for high school, one for Jr. high and one for elementary school aged music students. Most schools start kids in music in grade 5 but some will start them in grade four. The first week was for elementary school aged children. Our youngest camper was nine, the oldest was twelve. The camp has 12 cabins — usually 6 for girls, 6 for boys. Each cabin has 14 bunks — twelve campers and 2 cabin counselors. But that year we had 12 extra boys. The cabins were equally divided and the six for boys were broken down into various age groups. Two cabins for 12 year olds, and 4 cabins for 11 year olds. That left 12 boys — the nine and 10 year olds left in the cold (along with two cabin counselors, including me!). We were given two very small cabins, commonly referred to as the "coop" and "stable", which stood close to each other. Each one had seven bunks. I took six boys in the stable and my co-cabin-counselor took six into the coop. The coop and stable brought up some interesting factors. 1) They were a fair distance away from all the other cabins. 2) they had no showers, and 3) no toilet. As you know, by this time (July 1979), I had molested at least four boys in 9-10 year old age range. Now I was in a cabin alone with six boys, away from the main group. I, and my co- counselor, told the boys that if they had to use the bathroom at night, they could use the one in the retreat center (a haven for tired counselors!). During the day with all the scheduled activities, they could use restrooms in the other buildings. I told my six boys to wake me up if they had to go in the middle of the night so I could go with them to make sure they didn't get lost. (There was concern that in the darkness and through the wooded area between the cabins and the retreat center, a sleepy nine or ten year old might make a wrong turn and get lost. That was fine with me — maybe I could get a glimpse of a boy's genitals! (None had to go at night.) Camp starts on Sunday afternoon and ends the following Saturday afternoon. After breakfast on Monday, as I was going from the chow hall back to get some things from my cabin for the morning workshop, I heard some giggling as I went past the gazebo. Two girls came out followed by one of the boys from my co-counselors half of our cabin group. The girls ran off and the boy turned red. He walked with me to our cabins but I didn't ask him what they were doing in the gazebo. I figured that he had pulled his pants down for the girls and rather than risk scaring him off, I'd just keep a close eye on him. I didn't have long to wait. My co-counselor was a "counselor-in- training" (C.I.T.) and had to go to a special meeting every day. The meeting took place during "cabin time". (A half-hour period in which campers had to remain in their cabins after lunch. It was a "rest period" and the only time all day when cabin counselors had their kids all together to pass on special information or plan for our turn to lead campfire or entertainment skits.) I had my boys in both cabins resting on their bunks or writing letters after lunch on Monday. I was ready to check in on my co-counselor's group when one of the boys came into my cabin saying Z— was flipping B.A.'s (Bare Ass) in everyone's faces. I went with the boy to the other cabin and went in. Z— was bent over, facing the door with the back of his pants down so a couple of boys could see his butt. He saw me, said "oops" and quickly pulled his pants up. (I knew then that he HAD pulled his pants down for those girls!). All the other boys, including the one who came to get me, were laughing. Since no one seemed upset by Z—'s actions, I just said something like "I think that's enough of that" and went back to my cabin. He liked pulling his pants down in front of boys and girls his age, I wondered if he'd be willing to pull them down in front of me. Tuesday — rest period. In addition to the C.I.T. meeting which left me alone with all 12 boys for a half hour, there was a music staff meeting for all who could attend. This meant there would be one counselor in each cabin with their kids and all the rest would be in a meeting. No one would be wandering around. As soon as I got my twelve from the chow hall to the cabins, one of the six in the other cabin came to tell me Z~ was "at it" again. When I entered the cabin, Z~ was in his sleeping bag on his back. One of the boys said Z— was telling them FIVE ways to masturbate. I told Z— to come with me. I could tell by the motions inside his sleeping bag that he pulled up his underwear, then his pants. He then went outside and sat beside me in the grass. I liked what Z— was doing. I never actually saw anything but I wanted to molest him. But if he was caught by any other counselor he might be sent home. I had to get him under some kind of control, both for his sake AND mine. I told him it was funny but that the boys were getting tired of it after he'd done it so much. He promised he wouldn't do it any more. This was a ten-year old boy, at summer camp to have fun and he was "in trouble with the counselor". I just had a few gentle words to let him know he had to stop, that he could be sent home if the P—'s (camp coordinator) found out about it. It might as well have been a knife to his throat. He appeared to be a little scared and very, very unhappy. I can't stand having unhappy campers. I felt terrible that I had to ruin his day by telling him he could be sent home. I had to do something, so I said, "I don't care if you do it. I used to do it all the time, too, but you have to be careful when and where you do it so you don't get caught. And the boys in your cabin are tired of it, so no more B.A.s in there. Now, if you want, when I get back in my cabin, I dare you to come in and do a nude dance." He brightened up and agreed. Boy, was I happy! I had meant for him to come into my cabin and do a strip tease, dance around while he undressed and dance in the nude for a few seconds. But Z— had a different idea. The doors to the two cabins were about 20 feet apart. I don't know what Z—'s cabin mates thought as they saw him undress and run out of the cabin! It surprised me to see him run into my cabin already nude. He hopped around for a few seconds then ran back out. All my boys were laughing as I went out to the other cabin. Z— was sitting on the edge of his bunk, feet spread wide apart on the floor, he was still nude. I stopped four or five feet in front of him and took a good look at his genitals while one of the other boys said, "He said he's going to show us five ways to masturbate". I said, "No, I don't think so", and told him to get dressed. I watched until he was fully dressed, then left. It was now Tuesday — three and a half days to go, and I knew Z— was comfortable with me seeing him totally nude. Of course, HE thought it was just fun and games. I would try to get him alone in my cabin one day, perhaps during the two-hour "free time" in the afternoon, and ask him if he really knew five ways to masturbate, then, "would you teach me? (show me)." Then I'd see if he'd let me masturbate him "so you can have the feeling without doing all the work". Then, of course, I'd ask if he'd ever had a blow job . . . But, Tuesday wasn't over. Free time is right after rest time. My co- counselor and I were in my cabin talking to four or five of the kids that hadn't run off to play or go swimming. One of them was having a giggling fit trying to tell the other counselor what Z— had done. To my surprise, my co- counselor said, "Well, maybe we should pants you!" The boy asked what that meant and he said, "it means pull your pants down." The boy said, "I dare you to try!" (I loved it — what a great bunch of boys!) My co-counselor grabbed the boy and sat on my bunk, pulling the boy onto his lap. They struggled a few minutes and I told my younger counterpart (he was 16 — I was 18) to "hold his arms back". My co-counselor held the boy's arms until I had his pants and underwear down to his knees. If the boy had been upset or scared, I would have stopped my co-counselor but the boy was laughing, so I joined in. He was still laughing as he pulled his pants back up. Evening campfire went from 7:30 to 8:30 every night. After 8:30 everyone was required to stay in their cabins and "lights out" was to be no later than 10:00 p.m. This gave plenty of time for talk or quiet games (no camper would go to sleep before lights out — they are too excited). When two boys pulled out a deck of cards, and the events of the day still fresh in my mind, I said, "What are you guys going to do, play strip poker?" I was stunned by the response to that question. One said, "Hey, yeah!" The other asked what it was. I explained it and he said, "OK!" Another boy said, "I'll play." A fourth said, "Me, too!" I couldn't believe how lucky I was to have this particular group of boys! BUT, if we were going to do it, it would have to be all of us or no one. I couldn't risk the chance that the remaining two in my cabin may be offended and tell someone. I looked at the fifth one and asked if he'd like to play too. He said he would, "if I can be on your team". I said, "Yeah, I know how we can play teams, that way no one will have to undress by themselves". He said, "then I'll play." (So — he didn't mind being naked, as long as I was naked too .. .). I looked at the sixth boy and said, "How about you?" He said he didn't want to, but didn't care if we did. The idea of playing strip poker with five 9-10 year old boys was VERY appealing — five WILLING boys. I really wanted to, but I was afraid one of the other counselors may come in unexpectedly (they knock but I couldn't be sure any nude boys could hide their clothes and themselves before anyone at the door became suspicious). And, I wasn't too sure about the sixth boy. Regardless of what he said, did he really care if the rest of us play? Maybe he just didn't want to ruin it for the others. I said, "No, we'd better not. We might get caught." A couple of the boys were really disappointed (so was I, but I just couldn't take a chance of getting caught). Because I was afraid of getting caught by one of 40 music counselors (26 cabin counselors and 14 others) or one of the nine or ten resident staff, I was not able to get up enough courage to get Z— into my cabin alone or take him into the woods behind the main group of cabins. So, I had one boy who had done a nude dance for me and five or six in my cabin who wanted to play strip poker, but I was too afraid of getting caught. What a disappointment to have so many willing boys all at once and not be able to do anything with them! A few weeks later, I was angry with myself for not thinking more clearly when I was with those boys. I could have posted the one who didn't want to play as a guard — he could have sat on my bunk and peeked out the window to let us know if anyone was coming. Also, the one who was laughing when my co-counselor and I pulled his pants down was the same one who owned the cards and said, "Hey, yeah!" when I mentioned strip poker. He was also one of two who had asked what masturbation was when Z — mentioned it. I could have taught him all about masturbation and something that "feels even better" (a blow job), and asked if he wanted to try it. I could've had Z— guarding the door while I molested that boy, then they could have changed places so I could molest Z— also. (Boy, was I angry with myself for not thinking about that while I was with them that week!) Z — was at camp the following summer also, but when I asked, he said he didn't do "those things" anymore. (Too bad — I WOULD have molested him that year if he still did "those things"). After I had killed the first time, I was wondering where else I would find children, I thought about the camp. I knew they still had camp in July and the youngest (9-12 yr. olds) were there the first full week in July. I knew the daily schedule was the same, and I knew that from 1 to 3 p.m., during free time, it was normal for two or three kids — usually boys — to hike the trails behind the cabins alone. If I had not been arrested, I would have gone to the camp in July of 1990. It would have been easy. I still had the camp T-shirts. I'd spend three days waiting in those woods. Sunday afternoon, after registering and checking in with their camp counselors, they run free. Kids always explored the trails during that time. They don't know the faces of the 40 counselors yet. If a couple of boys saw me on the trail wearing a camp T- shirt, and I ask maybe what cabin they're in and what instruments they play, then they would assume I was one of the counselors. They'd walk the trails with me as I pointed out things I knew that were there, which kids would want to see. One trail comes out onto the road about a VA mile from the camp (around a corner out of sight). My car would be parked there and by this time, I'd have an idea how they would react under certain circumstances. I would do one of three things: 1) take my briefcase out of the car (as though that's why I took the shortcut through the woods to begin with), then once back in the woods I'd use the items in the briefcase to tie up, rape and kill the boys there. 2) I would ask the boys if they wanted to run into Tacoma with me to pick up some music supplies (in this way I could get them off the island and be on the freeway [next stop, my house] before they knew anything was wrong — once at my house I could take my time with them [I'd be on vacation from work]); or 3) If they were of the right temperament, I'd make them get in my car and warn them to keep quiet while we were on the ferry. I'd try to get them in the car under false pretenses first, then either go back into the woods with them or force them into the car. NO matter what, they'd end up dead. They'd die while running from my car, after being raped in the woods or a few days later at my house. If I didn't see any boys on Sunday, I'd try on Monday & Tuesday, then leave. (Wednesday or later the kids usually can recognize the entire counselor staff.) So that is a couple of incidents that happened at camp the summer of 1979 (camp started the day after my 18th birthday that year), and how I would have used my knowledge of that camp in 1990 to gain access to MORE children. I forgot about the shower-house. By Friday, I was quite aware that none of the boys in my cabin had taken a shower all week. Knowing they weren't too concerned about nudity (because they wanted to play strip poker), I tried to get them to go to the shower with me. I was really looking forward to seeing four or five naked boys, in addition to being naked myself (so they could see me), but nine and ten year old boys just don't take showers at summer camp! A year or two later, in charge of some ten and eleven year olds, I did get three boys to the shower-house and "looked them over" but they weren't like that group I'd had the first year, (that exposed themselves and wanted games). Mostly, at camp, even when I would have molested under different circumstances, I didn't there because I liked teaching music and didn't want to jeopardize that. I also enjoyed being responsible for twelve kids. (I always had a young C.I.T. as a co-counselor). I'd wake up in the middle of the night to hear boys crying, afraid of the dark or homesick, and was able to cheer them all up and keep them happy the entire week. I enjoyed helping their lifeguard when the beach was open. Later, as a senior counselor, I helped arrange free time activities, set up workshop schedules and more. I loved doing things for the kids, helping them choose workshops, helping the ones who got sick. My boys, especially the younger groups, knew they could wake me up in the middle of the night if they had ANY kind of problem and I would not tell anyone else what their problem was (so they wouldn't be embarrassed) unless it was for their well-being or I needed help. All my kids liked and trusted me. I was always one of the more popular counselors, one of the "most fun". I liked being a cabin counselor/music teacher. Though it would have been so easy to molest several boys over those four years, it was just the first week of my first year that I gave it any thought at all, and then only after Z— started exposing himself. I had enough control at that time, even with a ten year old right in front of me totally naked, that I didn't molest for fear of risking my job at camp — even though I was sure the boy would have been a willing and happy participant. So — I can be alone with young boys and have control over my actions, it was easier in 1979 than in 1989, but even in '89 I was alone with a friend's nine and ten year old boys and didn't try to molest them (but I wanted to. They were good looking boys. I even had THOUGHTS of killing them, but I didn't even molest when I had the opportunity). Music — Hobbies Author's Comment: As Wes detailed his love of music and the important people in his life, he appeared so normal to me. I never lost sight of what he was, but I did discover what he might have been if only . . . I rested my head on my arms and cried for the child in him and for the children he had molested, as well as the boys he had murdered. Then I cried some more for what I had lost by knowing it. - LS February 13, 1992 Lori: About five minutes ago on the phone you asked about hobbies. Though I was not by any means a great player, (the words of my high school band director) music is my main interest. I decided in the 5th grade (age 10) that I wanted to play trumpet in the school band. The director wanted to look at my teeth, then said I'd do better on clarinet. (I've done a lot in all areas of music since that time, and I and many band instructors agree you cannot look at a child's teeth and know what instrument they'll be able to play!) It was a lie that a 10 year old might believe. (I assume now he had too many wanting to play trumpet and no one wanted to play clarinet!) So, I played clarinet in band in 5th & 6th grades. In Jr. High I was able to skip their beginning band and join the intermediate band — Mr. P, director. Mr. P then retired, for health reasons, I believe — the drummers drove him crazy & rose his blood pressure, I think. So, in 8th grade, Mr. L— B— took over and I was now in the advanced band. Partly to avoid other kids (shy, loner, etc) and partly because of my love for playing in the band, I spent my lunch time setting up the band room — arranging chairs and music stands. That saved about five minutes of class time, so we could play longer. On to high school — 10th grade. What a joke! During football season we were of course a marching band. The director couldn't choreograph a decent half time show! We had only 19 people in the band. We went to a concert band contest later in the year and finished last place out of 20 bands. It was terrible. Especially when you consider the fact that two junior highs with excellent bands fed into that high school! (my junior high band always got l's at contests — 1 = Superior, 2, 3, 4 and finally 5 for poor. We always got superior ratings — we had a great director — Mr. B—) I held on and completed my 10th grade year in band. As much as I loved band, that band was terrible and I was considering dropping out. The band director lost her job that year. Then, 5 or 6 weeks before school started my junior year, I get a letter from a guy claiming to be the new band director. He had some crazy idea that marching band practice would start 2 weeks before school started — 2 hours per day, no less! Yea, right. Who does this guy think he is!?!? But, I went, and so did others. W— H— had just graduated from college, but his first year as a band director put him right up with the most experienced. He was very enthusiastic. He was also quite adamant that no one repeat what was seen or heard during those two weeks. I loved it — it was low down, sneaky and somewhat underhanded ... We had a 25 piece band ready for the first football game. We heard comments such as, "Well, the band ... sure isn't any better this year." No one could figure out why we thought it was so funny that everyone believed we were no good. We didn't even try to do a half-time show. OK — no more fun and games. We had our little joke. We made people believe we'd only have 16 or 17 in the band at the next game. Well, guess what? We marched into the stadium that night with 18 people — ten flag girls, 6 rifles, and 2 majorettes — and an 80 piece marching band right behind!! Our entrance into the stadium alone drew a standing ovation! I was sooo happy! "This is what I call a band!" A few days later there were several letters in the band director's office window. Highlighted areas read: "The band is back!" . .. "We have a band!" ... In addition to the team win everyone was talking about the band! I quickly grew to respect and admire Mr. H—. We went to a state marching band competition that year, placed 1st in our division and 2nd overall. "Boy — I'd sure like to be band director like him . . ." The first semester ended. Meantime, one friend was involved in a "cross-age teaching program" — high school students get a chance to "student teach" at elementary and junior high schools. My friend was taking that "class" during the final period everyday. He was going back to our "old" Junior High and student teaching band. L— B— was still the band director, and Mr. P had returned, mainly to help out for one hour a day. The school had scheduled the beginning and intermediate bands for the same hour. Mr. B — taught 6th period intermediate band in the band room, and Mr. P. taught 6th period beginning band in the auditorium. And, first semester ended. Now — during the 1st semester, my friend, a trumpet player, was student teaching the beginning band under Mr. P. But — Mr. P was scheduled for open heart surgery and would miss the first part of the 2nd semester. For 9 weeks, my friend — a 10th grade trumpet player — would be alone with a Junior High beginning band. He had Mr. B— in the band room in case of emergencies (musical emergencies), and there was a qualified substitute teacher there of course, but the substitute teacher knew nothing about music. My friend by this point had been playing trumpet for over five years. He could handle the beginning trumpet and other brass players OK, but he couldn't do much for the kids trying to learn clarinet or the other woodwinds. Well — he knew I had 6th period free, so he asked if I'd help him with the beginning band. "Sure — I'd love to!" Mr. H— (high school band director) was a brass player — major instrument tuba, but he could play all the brass so was able to give my friend several pointers on how to teach even the brass horns he couldn't play himself. Mr. B— did the same thing for me, as he was a woodwind player and taught me the similarities between clarinet, sax and even the flute. So, we TAUGHT beginning band for 9 weeks. We gave tests and graded the students. When it came time for 3rd quarter report cards, and the grades would become part of the student's records, Mr. B— traded places with us. We gave grades to our students, then for a couple days we flapped our arms in front of the much larger intermediate band while Mr. B— evaluated our beginning students (he pretty much agreed with the grades we'd been giving — and he usually tried to spend a few minutes with us once a week to make sure things were going well, and of course the principal and counselors checked in from time to time to make sure the kids were actually learning from us older kids!) My friend and I led the beginning band in a concert that quarter that featured all the bands and choirs. (About 400 in the audience watching ME direct a band, I was terrified but I survived.) Fourth quarter brought Mr. P back. My friend was there as part of his high school cross age teaching class, so he continued student teaching. Mr. P — knew I loved music, so he decided that in addition to the learning experience I'd had as a "teacher", I should broaden ALL ASPECTS of my musical ability. He talked this HIGH SCHOOL student, with 6%'s years of band under my belt, into JOINING the JUNIOR HIGH beginning band! Sure — I think Mr. P and Mr. B-and maybe even Mr. H—, were all in on this together!! I'd been told what I needed to know to teach beginning sax players (sax is nearly identical to clarinet — the fingerings on sax are actually easier than a clarinet — the mouthpieces are the same except in size) but they felt I should actually pick up sax as a second instrument. So, I started playing one of the school district's saxophones (the district owns several horns which go to whatever school has a need for them in any given year). Now, of course, Mr. H—, the high school director, was happy with all this. Having been in front of a band as a leader, made me a much better follower — being stuck in a teacher position makes you a better student! I could now understand what Mr. H— and Mr. B— went through to make their bands among the best in the state! I DIDN'T realize, however, just how much H—, B—, and P— all talked together about ME. Unknown to me at the time, they all saw leadership abilities in me. One reason they ALL wanted me to pick up a second instrument is that they knew it would put me ahead of schedule. You see, music majors in college are required to learn other instruments. These guys were already teaching me to be a teacher! I've got to admit — when you can use one hand to control speed and the other hand to make a section start or stop, get loud or quiet.. . when you can make 35 people do what you want with the flick of a finger — yeah — I could learn to enjoy teaching band! During my junior year, my grandmother sold my mom a small chord organ — so I taught myself to play it. Nothing fantastic — one note at a time with the right hand and one chord button at a time with the left, but I started learning the keyboard (which I later learned was a requirement for music majors — they must take at least one year of piano lessons, so I was getting ahead on that, also). So, my senior year I enrolled in the cross age teaching program and got credit for student teaching. That put me way ahead of most college music students — those who want to teach usually don't do their student teaching until their final year of college, and I was doing it in high school! That year, Mr. H— taught a "music theory" class — something else that normally is done in the 1st or 2nd year of college — so I was at least one year ahead of most music majors in that area, also. I got a real workout my senior year. I was working with the ADVANCED Jr. high school band under Mr. B—. I'd warm up the band, direct a tune or two with the entire band then I'd take small groups to a practice room to work through difficult passages. That saved a lot of time and was a benefit for the students. I'm not bragging about my teaching abilities at that time, normally when the trumpets or trombones or flutes had a lot of trouble with a particular piece of music, the entire band would have to sit and do nothing — and so learn nothing — while Mr. B— worked with the small section having trouble. But with me there, Mr. B— could have me quietly pull out the troubled section and he'd keep the main group going or I'd take over the main group while he took the problem section to a practice room. That way, you don't have 30 students warming chairs while only 5 or 6 were learning or improving their abilities. I led the band in one or two songs at each concert that year. Mr. H— worked me also, during football season. Two or three times, he was gone on a trip with our jazz band when the school had a basketball game. With the jazz band players gone, we still had a more than adequate pep band for basketball games, but no conductor! "Wes get up here!", I heard in the middle of class one day. "Excuse me!? you want ME to run the HIGH SCHOOL BAND at a basketball, in front of 3000 people"!? (We had a VERY LARGE gymnasium — the Harlem Globe Trotters played there a few times — and our team went undefeated and took state that year, so we always had a large crowd — lot's of community support). So — I directed the band. Mr. B— or the band director from the other Junior high were there to help if I got into trouble, but I was to be in charge I was to decide what songs to play, when, etc. During my senior year, Mr. H— opened the band room after school for a few students interested in playing in jazz band. The main jazz band, being a special band with special music, can have only a very limited number of players, so we started a 2nd group when there was enough interest — in that group I played tenor sax and led the group when Mr. H— was not available. We weren't big enough or good enough to actually perform in concert but it gave serious music students experience with a different style of music. And since I played AND led a jazz band, it was even more invaluable to me, since I now intended to one day teach at the Jr. high or high school level. (A lot of band teachers never played in a jazz band nor did they student teach a jazz band. As a result, you end up with schools that don't offer jazz band or students who suffer with a teacher trying to teach something he never learned himself.) SO — this gave me an advantage very few music majors ever had. By the time I graduated, Mr. H— & Mr. B— were sure I'd become a successful music teacher — I'd already had experiences that most NEVER got. Then, Mr. H— had a talk with me. He said that high school band teachers could recommend graduating students to be counselors at a summer music camp. He also taught at the camp and was sure I'd be accepted. I was. I told you a little about Music Camp and my duties when I told you about Z— in my last letter. Now more about the music end of camp: With 124 campers, we had about 40 music counselors. Some of the campers and counselors were orchestra (string) players. We usually averaged about 90 campers and 25-30 counselors in the band — the rest in the orchestra. Broken down, this usually gave us about 15 clarinet "campers" and 3 clarinet counselors. There were 3 different camps, each lasting one week, grade school age one week — Jr. high aged kids the following, etc. During all three weeks my first summer I was a clarinet counselor, assisting the lead counselor for the clarinets. I taught at the camp 4 different summers, with increasing responsibilities each year. Finally, I was the lead clarinet counselor with two assistants. I didn't go on to college yet, so I had my work schedule arranged so I could teach more at the Jr. high with Mr. B— while saving money for college. Meanwhile, back at camp: the campers had many workshops available — one was "second instrument". Campers could pick another instrument to learn about and play. We encouraged them to pick an unrelated instrument — a trumpet player might want to try out a violin or cello, or if a trumpet player wanted to stick to wind instruments, maybe they'd try flute or saxophone. We tried to discourage the very easy switches such as clarinet to sax or trumpet to baritone — those instruments being nearly identical and the purpose of learning second instrument would be defeated. Anyway, we had six each of flutes, clarinets, various saxophones, trumpets and trombones and a few other assorted instruments for band (and a full selection of orchestra instruments, also). Each workshop was taught twice a day. I taught clarinet as a second instrument my first summer. (Counselors would work with their sections separately, then we'd come together under a lead counselor.) My second summer at camp the music coordinator knew what my abilities were and that I was reliable and liked by the campers. He knew I was student teaching under Mr. B— and even going back to help H— with the marching band. That is when I became lead counselor for the clarinets. In other summers, after I felt comfortable on the sax, I was put in charge of the sax section a couple of times. When the camp coordinator realized i had also taught myself to play the flute, I became lead counselor for the 2nd instrument workshop, in addition to being lead clarinet counselor for the clarinet section in the main band. Being able to perform to some extent on 3 different instruments and with 2V2 years student teaching a Jr. high band, I was then qualified to lead workshops for those who wanted to learn about playing solo's or in small ensembles. I taught private lessons on clarinet & sax. I played clarinet in the "Camp Counselors Dixieland Band" (A dream for clarinet players — that type of music is both challenging and fun). I gained a lot of experience teaching several different instruments at ALL levels (beginning grade school students to advance high school students), and I taught entire bands in second instrument and taught ensembles — several different kinds of teaching for different kinds of groups and different kinds of music. I became one of only two or three that would come to the line on the counselor application form that said "What instruments can you play/teach", and I'd answer, "What areas are you short of help in?" I was not great in any particular area but I could get the job done. One week we had two oboe players in camp. We had NOT ONE COUNSELOR that knew the first thing about oboes and since it's one of the most feared double reed instruments, no one wanted to even sit down next to them and say, "One, two, ready, go!" So, I was asked if I could fake it. In two days I taught myself all the fingerings. I couldn't get a sound out of the darn thing, but fortunately the two girls we had that week had played three or four years. They needed help mostly in figuring out the harder rhythms, which was easy for me, so it worked out. I "student taught" under Mr. B— for two years after I graduated from high school and all but took over entirely when he broke a shoulder and couldn't conduct for about three weeks. I didn't go to college for three reasons: 1) I liked music and teaching as a hobby — I didn't want it to become "Just a job". 2) I had no money, I couldn't qualify for student loans because my parents made too much money, but they didn't have any money to help me with college. 3) I had been arrested and confessed to 7 sex crimes against children, I had no convictions, but at the time I figured that ruined my chances of teaching music to children — what school would hire a child molester!? I would have had it made. Both Mr. B— and Mr. H— were well known, respected music teachers, at the top of their field in the State of Washington. H— gave me names of people to contact at Washington State University, gave me advice, and was sure that on his recommendation I could simply take some tests and bypass some required courses (such as first year music theory, which he taught me in high school), which would leave me free to study other areas of music. Mr. B— offered assistance in obtaining loans, personal loans or co-sign a loan for me, whatever he could with financial assistance. Both H— and B—, because of their standings, would have been EXCEL¬LENT references to list on job applications for music teaching positions. I had another unbelievable advantage, not only was my experiences at the camp transferable to general college credits in the field of music, but the camp coordinator knew and trusted my teaching abilities and he liked me. That would have just about guaranteed me a teaching job SOMEWHERE in Washington upon college graduation. I had the backing and support of two of the best in the business. I HAD IT MADE — and threw it all away. But — it wasn't over yet. Winter of 1984-85. I read in the paper that a Community Concert Band was being formed. There were three requirements: 1) No students allowed. 2) You once played a band instrument. 3) You've not yet died of old age! It was a band made up of members of the community who had played in band in school and wanted to play again. After the first meeting/rehearsal, I talked to the director telling him of my musical "career", and asked if there was anything I could do to help out with the band. He made me "Temporary Band Manager", and I helped get things organized. By the time we were ready to elect officers, I was unanimously elected as the official Band Manager. My duties were simple — keep track of members, help the other officers raise money and handle advertising, and make sure we had a place to rehearse in addition to renting an auditorium or theatre for our concerts. After our first concert, the newspaper said that if you missed that concert you MISSED a lot. We weren't professionals, but we were all adults who were there because we liked to perform — we were serious about our music. I was very proud to be a player/manager of such a group. I would definitely call the band semi-professional. Many were music teachers or retired teachers. Some taught school bands. A couple had played in well known symphonies at one time or other, some taught private lessons, we had piano teachers — everyone there, while not a professional player, all KNEW their music and BEHAVED professionally. The paper said we could have charged more than the $5.00 adult ticket price that we charged — the town loved us. Lewiston was starved for culture and arts — there were no symphonies or theatre groups in the area — we broke new ground and were warmly and eagerly accepted. I was proud just to be a member of such a group — but to carry the honor of MANAGING the group — wow! We had about 40 people in the band. At age 23, I think I was the youngest. We had a Tuba player and a drummer — both in their late 70's. So the community needed a band of its very own and they got one. I didn't know it but there was something else lacking in the community. One day I got a phone call at work. A STRANGE phone call. It was the head basketball coach at Lewis-Clark State College right there in Lewiston. He'd heard I might be interested in helping with a band for basketball games. I agreed to meet with him. The college had a small jazz ensemble, but it couldn't play at the games, and there was no other band. The coach offered to buy T-shirts for any pep band I could put together to play at their home games. I was able to get 5 members from the community band to join me, I recruited about 20 from the Lewiston High School band and 6 or 7 from Clarkston High School. We played at three home games. It was nothing great — I borrowed music from 3 different schools in addition to the little bit the college music library had to offer. The Junior High bands I had student taught were better than this group I had pulled together, but since we only had three rehearsals together, it wasn't too bad. I was able to rely pretty heavily on the Lewiston High kids — they were the bulk of my band so I used a lot of music they were familiar with and they pretty much carried the others. As long as we had a band that could play the National Anthem (instead of the Pledge of Allegiance), and drums pounding and trumpets playing "charge", the coach was happy. It was beginning to look as if I might end up with some kind of music career after all — though not professionals, the Director and Manager positions were to be PAID positions once we got on our feet, and the college was given my name when they needed someone to create and direct a band (I couldn't believe a COLLEGE was seeking my musical abilities, especially when I'd never set foot on a college campus before!). But, just after basketball season ended and the community band had done our first concert, my hours at work were cut and when I moved to Kennewick — that permanently ended my music "career". Once I moved to Vancouver, I noticed that for a fairly large com- munity, they had to go to Portland and pay $20.00 for decent musical entertainment. With my experience in Lewiston, I knew Vancouver could create and support its own community concert band. I'd recruit an experienced director — perhaps a current or retired high school director — and we'd form a band just like we'd done in Lewiston. But — I never did any serious planning even though it could very well have started me into a paying job as a semi-professional concert band manager. Another kind of planning took all my time. Twice I threw away very promising possibilities in a music career. AND MUSIC was EVERYTHING to me. I had once taken a choir tune, arranged it for band and taught it to the Jr. high band and Mr. B— put it in the program for their next concert. I had a wide variety of music abilities — not great in any one but as a whole, I could get by in some fields. If I could only go back ten years and take advantage of what H--, B— and the camp coordinator offered me — with four more years of intensive study in music . . . look what I did in music WITHOUT college — with it, who knows? Movies For Masturbation Author's Comment: Keep in mind that, for most of us, viewing movies or commercials containing nudity of children is never given a second thought. But for the pedophile it is a source of stimulation. I certainly had never realized the degree of child nudity present on television until it was pointed out to me by Wes. - LS March 9, 1992 Lori, I am back on 1-B today, which means I can trade my radio for a TV and can start ordering snacks from the store. I just got a letter from your brother's Chief, addressed to Jerry Davis here at the prison. Davis sent a letter and copy of the fax to me. I sent my OK to Davis. It will be a two-hour interview — not much time. I don't think I have told you about some of the movies I have watched as often as possible, so here is some new information (unless I am repeating myself). I believe the first one occurred while I was living with Dad in early 1985, after getting out of jail for molesting E— in Lewiston, Idaho. One night I was up late watching TV. The cable listings said something about a movie on cable. I do not recall what the listing said, but the "movie" was actually three or four short films, French films with a lot of nudity. I decided to watch it. There was a lot of frontal nudity, even showing the men's genitals, to give you an idea what it was like. (They did not show the point of penetration during sex acts like X-rated movies do.) One of the clips was a wedding — the bride, groom, preacher, and ALL the guests were NUDE. A completely nude wedding. They showed the full frontal view of the groom and best man coming through the door, then the bride and her father, a few of the guests . . . What caught my attention was a change in the camera angle when the door opened again — two boys, about nine or ten years old, came through the door. They showed the boys from the waist up. Cable shows some pretty dirty movies on Cable TV, but I didn't expect to see nude boys on with nude adults. (I didn't expect nude boys in ANY situation on Cable TV! I thought that would be considered child pornography). So, I figured that the boys wore no shirts, IMPLYING that they were nude. Then a different camera angle showed the boys from behind as they walked into the room in which the wedding was held. It showed the full back view — the boys WERE nude! Their bare butts were shown on TV. There were a dozen nude adults in the same room. One camera showed the backs of the guests for several seconds as they watched the ceremony. I, of course, looked at the bare butts of the TWO BOYS standing among the men and women. I was OVERJOYED to see two nude nine and ten year old boys on TV — I REALLY LIKED CABLE! They showed the boys' butts several times, but front views were always from the waist up, never showing their genitals (I was disappointed!) While I was looking at the butts of the boys, I noticed one of them shudder. My experience with nude children tells me that the boy did not shudder because he was cold — he was nervous/apprehensive about all the nudity. He may have agreed to be nude on the show but was uncomfortable with it. He may have been bribed or perhaps his parents TOLD him he was doing it. Anyway, the show had two nude boys and showed their butts several times as they were standing or walking. Knowing that premium cable channels all show the movies over and over, I checked the listings. Sure enough, this particular show would be on five or six more times. I watched it every time, always hoping to catch a glimpse of the boy's genitals but knowing I would not. But, I now knew that at least one cable channel showed nude children, so I carefully studied the cable listings, watching every-thing that might have children in it, hoping to see other nude kids. People ask if pornography contributed to my crimes. NO. By the time I saw this French movie and realized I could see nude children on TV, I had ALREADY gone as far as attempting anal intercourse with a boy. I had already been molesting kids for about nine years. But I did start looking for other movies with nude children at that time. What I found came when I wasn't looking and IN places I did not expect. I had started an office job, had taken a boy camping and had molested him and simulated intercourse with him. (First time I carried out that action). I had the keys to the office which had a VCR and video monitor. I had never seen "Superman, The Movie", so I rented it. I had no idea what I would see in the first few minutes of that movie. When the baby "Superman" was put into the ship that carried him to earth, he was nude. I rewound the movie and watched the scene several times hoping to see the baby's genitals, but no such luck. Then the ship landed on earth. I figured that if they showed him getting out of the ship he would already be grown up and wearing his Superman suit. I was pleasantly surprised to see a fairly close-up shot of a nude three year old climbing out of the crater. But, he was bent over showing his back and part of his butt as he climbed out of the crater. I figured that is all I would see, just part of his butt. Obviously, the boy was totally nude during the filming of the scene but they probably would not show a three year old boy's genitals. Needless to say, when the boy stood up facing the camera and held his arms over his head, I was happy to see a very clear view of his genitals. I hit the pause button on the VCR and masturbated while looking at the boy's genitals. I rented the movie three or four times just to masturbate while watching the scene over and over or with the scene on pause. I don't recall, but I was probably thinking of what I had done to N— while I watched my favorite scene of the Superman movie and masturbated. There were no more movies until 1988. This was when my probation officer found a small child was living with me and I had moved into an apartment right next to the service station I worked at. When I got my tax refund in April, I bought a VCR. I wanted to rent the Superman movie again but could not find it anywhere. I was going to put the three year old "Superman" on pause to get a still picture of him and his genitals and I was going to spread my nude photos of N— on the floor in front of me, (N— was three in those pictures), so I could masturbate looking at pictures of two three year olds. One day I rented a movie called "The Mission". It was about British missionaries in the late 1800's (?). They were with some native tribe that did not wear much clothing and the children wore none at all. Throughout the movie you could see the backs (and butts) of nude kids. You could see their fronts from a distance and occasional brief glimpses of their genitals. I rented this movie three or four times and watched it six or seven time putting their VCR on pause when children's genitals were visible so I could masturbate while looking at them. At the end, the British army showed up and massacred the entire tribe and the missionaries who tried to save them. In one scene, some nude boys, ages ten and under, were crossing a narrow hanging bridge, one boy got shot and fell off the bridge. Another boy caught him and pulled him up. The boy was limp and from a distance you could see his genitals. I thought, "If you are going to kill the kids, bring them to me, I'll do it when I am through with them". (This was after I had tried to kidnap K—). The last scene of the movie showed a plain view of a nude eleven or twelve year old boy, a ten year old girl and a couple younger children (all nude) getting into a canoe. These children were the only survivors of the massacre and were leaving the area. Four nude children in a canoe and I think, "I'll borrow my dad's canoe and come get you. You need a place to stay, you can live with me. You don't wear clothes now. I'll let you keep that native tradition!" One day on TV, on one of the major networks, I watched some movie about "World War III." Missiles everywhere. Small Town. One woman, her two young sons and a neighbor boy are all together. The younger boy is the first to suffer radiation sickness. In one scene, the lady carried the boy into the kitchen — he was nude, you could see a seven year old boy's butt on national television! She then set him on the counter to give him a sponge bath. You could not see his genitals, but could see every thing else. I wished I was the one washing him! A couple of weeks later, another network showed the movie. I was ready! I masturbated when the scene of the nude seven year old boy came up. Another movie I really loved was "The Blue Lagoon". I watched it on cable every time it was on and several times rented the video. Near the beginning is a scene with two nude kids, a boy and girl, about six or seven years old, running down the beach toward the camera. Looking closely, I could just make out the boy's genitals. The girls' vagina and the boy's penis were clearly visible in an underwater scene. (The camera was looking up through the water while they swam.) In the last third of the movie there were several shots of a nude two year old boy which very clearly showed his genitals many times. Needless to say, there were many scenes in this move I masturbated to. * "Interesting note here. The prison will not let me have photo's of fully clothed children because it's a "threat to penological objectives". But the PRISON TV STATION has shown the movie, "Blue Lagoon", at least three times since I have been here. The prison itself is showing hundreds of sex offenders a movie with nude children. The prison shows me nude children but a friend cannot send me a picture of her fully clothed children because it is against penological objectives. Somehow, I miss the logic in that! Ever since 1985, after I had already been molesting kids for years, I started looking for movies that MIGHT have nude children (even babies) in them. Here in prison, I also watch the specials on the two public broadcasting stations. These are often shows about native tribes that usually has nude children in them. I believe it was while watching the nude boy in Superman that I got the idea of making my own movie: Boy in my house for the purpose of 'watching a movie.' We would watch Superman and when the nude boy appears on the movie, I would ask my young 'friend' if he would ever like to make a movie with his clothes off like that. Then, regardless of his answer, I would set up my Camcorder and videotape him being molested or raped (depending on whether or not he wanted to make such a movie). I don't remember if I mentioned this before, but if I had not been caught, I would have started videotaping the rapes and murders and made child porn movies with the "sex slaves" which I intended to have. I had written in the journal that police found that I wanted to do this. I had already started comparing prices and capabilities of Camcorders. (One of my fantasies was to record a boy being molested in several ways, then raped (butt-fucked), tortured and finally killed. After luring another boy home under false pretenses or a forced kidnapping, I would show him the 'movie', one scene at a time. I would show him the boy being molested then do the same to him. I would tell him we were going to do everything he saw me do to the kid in the movie. He would watch the movie of me raping the other boy, then he would be raped. Finally, he would watch as the other boy died — then I would kill him. The boy would not know what I was going to do to him next until I showed him another scene of my 'movie'). So, this is all something else I did in the last few years — especially between the attempted kidnapping and the murders. I was disappointed that I never got to watch Superman or Blue Lagoon while alone with one of my young victims. I am working on rewriting my complete sexual history for you. You will have to refer to what I have already written about many of my crimes for details but I have been gathering information and making notes about what 1 remember at times. I will be able to now give you a more accurate chronological listing of my crimes, including more crimes and attempted crimes plus more specific dates. To help my ancient memories, I have obtained a copy of my Richland arrest record. It IS INTERESTING to me that at least FIVE of my known crimes, for which I had confessed to but was never charged, seem to have disappeared from the public records in the last year ... I smell a Richland Police, Benton County Prosecutor cover up! Oh — but I have proof — I have the case numbers for the files that seem to have vanished! Ha! That's it for now. - Wes Employment: Author's Comment: How organized Wes seemed. Days, dates, times, events. So it was with all aspects of his life, including plans for molestation, murder, and torture. He lived it. He thrived on it as even his employment history shows. - LS Lori, It has occurred to me that I've never given you much about my employment history, so here's a list of all my jobs and what my duties were. So you'll know how easy it was for me to get work, I'll tell you how I got the jobs, also. (I could be quite a guy when I wanted. I could get any job I wanted, and I could convince kids that didn't know me to "go anywhere" with me. Some kind of charm????) A POPULAR RESTAURANT: (In Richland, WA) (Mom was breakfast cook, asked if I'd like the night/weekend dishwasher's job) Worked here during my Sophomore year of high school for about 6 months. I was 15.1 was a dishwasher and the evening & weekend cooks wanted me to become a cook, which I was interested in (better than washing dishes!). I quit just before I was to help 2 of the cooks at a Saturday night banquet. (My pay was whatever minimum wage was in 1976-77) I believe I quit in June. I know I went on vacation with my Dad & his girlfriend a day or two later. I was tired of the daytime dishwasher leaving all his pots, pans, & silverware for ME to do! FOOD STORE: (Richland) Summer 1977 — June 1981 I was 16 and had gone to work with Dad, who delivered potato chips to the store. It was a Friday and something was going on that weekend, so I went to help Dad, with help he'd finish a couple hours early. This was his biggest stop. The assistant manager of the store had checked us in and had been watching us. As we were leaving, he asked my Dad if he knew anyone looking for a job. I was working the next afternoon as a "Service Clerk" (glorified box boy). After I graduated I worked full time until I turned 18, at which point I was "too old" to be a service clerk. So they promoted me to stockman. I asked for, and was given, 3 weeks vacation before starting my new job. (I had been a part-time service clerk. I was not eligible for ANY vacation time, but they happily gave me 3 weeks.) I also worked for a maintenance company for 5 months after I graduated. That was the janitorial firm contracted by the store, so 1 worked a 40 hr. week as a stockman and a 35 hour week for a janitorial company that just happened to clean the store I worked in. I quit this "2nd job" when I fell asleep one night and put my car in a ditch! While working at the store I molested N—, M— and the kids by the river in Richland. In the summer of 1980,1 quit. I gave 214 weeks notice, then went to teach at a summer music camp for the entire month of July. My boss hired me back when I went to pick up my "last" paycheck. He hadn't even informed the union that I had quit! I was just a couple weeks short of reaching journeyman level when I quit for good in June, 1981.1 again spent the month of July teaching at the music camp. I didn't want to go back to the food store so after a month of loafing around, I followed my brother into the navy. U.S. NAVY — Submarine Force: I joined in September, 1981 at age 20. My entry test scores were high, so my recruiter suggested Submarine duty. (Submarines are considered to be the top 10% of the Navy). I entered on the apprentice-ship program. Once training was over, I'd do general seaman duties until I chose a job and went to school (if school was required for that job). I went to basic training in San Diego, Cal., and graduated in the top 10% of my class so I was given a "meritorious advancement" to the next rank and pay grade. I then went to Groton, Connecticut for 6 weeks of intensive Submarine training. I finished there just in time for a leave for the Holidays. I reported to the U.S.S. Thomas A. Edison (SSBN 610), one of the Navies oldest nuclear powered subs on January 1, 1982. We were home- ported in Bangor, Washington, and spent most of our time in dry dock in Bremerton. (Our missile tubes were filled with concrete — we were a victim of the SALT II deal Nixon made with "the enemy", and we were also being phased out by the new Trident class submarines, of which the first was commissioned while I was in the Navy.) I was pulled off Submarine duty when it was learned I had offered money to boys on base for sex (9-10 yr. olds). In July, 1982, I took 2 weeks leave and went to teach at the music camp again — I stayed 4 weeks. I was thrown in the brig for that trick. I was finally discharged in late October, 1982. A MAJOR MOTOR INN: (In Richland) Again mom had got me a job as a dishwasher. She worked here instead of the restaurant now (the 2 fought over her, she was a great cook and the 2 places were top-notch restaurants & very competitive with each other). This is the job I lost after just 2 weeks when I went to jail the first time (in November, 1982?). After jail, I moved to Lewiston, Idaho. My dad had been transferred to Lewiston. (Benton County jail & 1 year probation) A CABLE COMPANY: My dad's "live in girlfriend" (they later married) worked as a computer operator for a local Cable TV company. She suggested I talk to her sales manager about temporary work. Being a small community, they did not have such stations as TNT, Family Channel, Lifetime, and several others. But in January, 1983 those channels became available and the cable company rented a building at the fairgrounds to introduce them and they needed temporary unskilled workers. The job lasted 2 weeks. It was here that I met one of the boys I molested. A MAJOR CONVENIENCE STORE CHAIN: (Clarkston, WA) Feb. 1983 - Jan. 1984 Dad knew they were hiring (he delivered chips to all 3 local stores), and suggested I go talk to the manager of one of the stores (who was the asst. zone mgr.). She sent me to another store mgr., who hired me on the spot. (They all knew & liked dad and figured I'd make a good worker). In 5 months I was night manager! (simply because I was next in line). Then in Jan. of '84, I had to go back for a review hearing in Benton County and was jailed for failing to continue counseling. As a result, I lost my job at the convenience store. I had molested a boy while I worked there. After getting out of jail in Benton County, I went back to Lewiston and had to actually look for work for the first time ever. All I knew was grocery stores. The grocery store I had worked at went out of business, that left about 60 to 65 grocery workers job ¬ less in an area (all of Lewiston & Clarkston) that had only 5 grocery stores. It was not until May of 1984 that I found a place that was even accepting applications, and fortunately, they hired me. But it was not in the grocery business. A FAST FOOD RESTAURANT: (Lewiston, Idaho) May - June, 1984 I worked all positions, as people in that business do. In June, the boy told a family therapist what I'd done and my name appeared in the arrest reports in the newspaper saying I'd been charged with Lewd Conduct. The restaurant fired me. I didn't look for work in the next 2 months because I figured I'd be going to jail when I went to court in August, 1984. Sure enough, I went to jail. Idaho prosecuted, Washington screwed up. One day I was called down to the Court Clerk's office. He wanted to know if I wanted a temporary job. A SPECIALTY RESTAURANT (Lewiston) I worked helping them remodel a tavern into a restaurant. It was Nov., 1984. In Dec. they hired me as a permanent "asst. chef" to the owner. About that same time, I made the "emergency" call to my counselor and was released from jail. I quit in Jan. or Feb., 1985. I just could not get along with the owner. (Apparently no one could. He left the country to visit his mother and was immediately arrested on drug charges and some other stuff. He was barred from the U.S., they learned he had lived here and OWNED his own restaurant, but he was not here legally. He skipped out of his country before they could arrest him and he came to the U.S. on a visitor's visa from another country. He'd been here 7 years on an illegal VISITOR'S visa!). Anyway, I knew I had to stay employed or I may go back to finish my year in jail. I took the only job available. A VACUUM CLEANER COMPANY (Lewiston Office) Door to door vacuums, commission only. After a salaried office position became available, I took it. It was a small office (business wise), so I had combined duties: Service Manager — I did all repairs & maintenance on vacuums and shampooers (all makes & models, I hate working on a [well known brand] aargh). I was Cashier, handling all contracts that salesmen brought in and responsible for making sure the salesmen were properly credited so they'd get paid whatever their particular sale was worth. I was also Credit Manager. We had a computer I could connect by phone to the local Credit Bureau. I had the final say in ALL sales. The Sales Manager of the office and I did a lot of fishing together and his wife tagged along. The company fired him, and I was left trying to do his job, also. But I didn't have time to train new salesmen, so sales dropped. The company wouldn't send in a new sales manager. They were waiting for a class at their school to graduate first. So, our office sales went down. My hours were cut back to the point where I couldn't afford rent anymore. There was nothing else to do in Lewiston. 1 knew I could get work in a grocery store if I went to the Tri-Cities, but I couldn't afford a move and knew no one I could stay with while job hunting. (While at this company, I molested another boy). Meanwhile, the sales manager left his wife. She was all alone, no job, she had friends in the Tri-Cities. We decided to take a big gamble. I quit the company. In September or October of 1985, she and I pulled together all we had and moved into a one bedroom apartment in Kennewick. We chose a 1- bedroom because it was cheap and neither of us had a job or any job prospects. We had just enough combined money (after a large "moving sale") to pay moving costs and 2 months rent. It was imperative that at least one of us found a job immediately. I was in luck. The apartment complex manager told her husband that one of her new tenants was pressed for work. 1 had told her I was sure I could quickly find work in a convenience store. Her husband was one of 2 on an upper management team for a major gasoline supplier. In addition to being one of the largest oil distributor in Southeastern Washington (supplying gas & oil to dozens of stations), the privately owned distribution outlet also owned 8 convenience stores and 4 gas stations. A MAJOR GASOLINE SUPPLIER: (Washington) The husband told the wife, to whom I paid rent, to come on in — they were taking applications. I was hired over 4 or 5 others on a part-time basis. I was to fill in whenever needed. I worked abut 50 to 60 hours a week (just part time?) filling in for sick workers at the 4 stores and 8 gas stations. After about 2 months, I was given a full time position as graveyard clerk in one of the stores. I got a lot of overtime, after my start with the company. I was one of only 2 or 3 that could take any shift, any position, at any store or gas station, if someone was sick or quit. While employed there, I molested two brothers and attempted to molest 8 other boys. About the 1st of October, 1986, the company was getting too large for the 2 managers to waste time on the 4 stores. They were needed full time for the distribution part of the company, but could still handle their own gas stations. The owner decided to put a manager in each of the stores and I was asked to apply for a management position. The competition was tough and I lost. But they were converting some of the gas stations into convenience stores and were building new stores. There were about a dozen applicants for those first 4 positions and I was assured I was near the top of what remained, and would soon be in management (but I had to stop writing bad checks, the main reason I didn't get a management position on the first round). Anyway, they liked me. That was the 1st of Oct. 1986. My sister and her boyfriend had been trying to get me to move to Seattle. So when I was reported for molesting another young boy, I quit this company and moved to Seattle. I was living with my sister in Seattle by Oct. 31, 1986. A WELL KNOWN CHARITABLE ORGANIZATION: I had helped my sister and her boyfriend (they later married) for a few weeks with the apartment complex they managed. In early December, a classified ad said drivers were needed. A man owned 3 stores. He had an office in a nearby city — the donation service. Telephone solicitors worked calling various neighborhoods and I was one of 6 truck drivers who made an average of 100-120 stops per day to pick up donated items to deliver to the stores. The store profits (a certain percent) were donated for research. I started molesting another boy while working for this company. I worked for them from Dec, 1986 to April, 1987.1 had some dis- agreements with the way the truck routes were set up, so I quit. I had seen an ad for the same kind of work for another charitable organization. I went to their office, told them I had worked for a similar company and was hired on the spot. 1 had quit on the weekday and was working for the other company the next day. THE OTHER CHARITABLE ORGANIZATION: I drove a donation pickup truck (delivery van sized truck) for 2 weeks in April 1987. The pay was terrible. My friends at the previous company (other drivers) said things were getting better and they hadn't hired another driver. So, on a Friday, I parked my truck and the following Monday I was back driving for the first charitable organization. BACK TO WORK FOR THE FIRST CHARITABLE ORGANI¬ZATION: Things were not better. I quit in the middle of my route one day in late May, 1987. A SECURITY COMPANY: The next day I answered one of the ever present ads for security guards. I was guarding a construction site in N. Seattle that night. It was there, 3 weeks later, on June 13, 1987 that I tried to abduct another boy. JAIL in Seattle. A MAJOR CONVENIENCE STORE/GAS STATION: (Renton, Wa) In November, 1987, I put in just one application. The manager of this store put me right to work. On Swing Shift, I was responsible for normal convenience store/gas station duties, plus the closing of the daily books. Since I was the full time swing shift and closed the store five nights a week, I had all the keys to the place, the numbers for the alarm system, and was the only one besides the manager that knew the safe combinations. The owner had two stations, just a couple blocks apart. My probation officer, whose office was four blocks down the street, was one of my regular customers (he saw me at least once a week at work — this could be why he never visited my house). Anyway, my manager kept telling the owner how great I (oh, shucks) was. Then in April of 1988, after 5 months, things happened fast. Two people at store quit at about the same time. Then the manager was fired. No. 1 was very busy, 24 hour store/gas station. They were in trouble. My manager said the place was dirty, short handed, just the kind of job he thought I'd like! (I loved to clean and I wasn't happy unless I had ten customers pumping gas all at once, with another ten lined up buying Lotto tickets!) My manager at #2 told the owner that I should get the job. The owner said they'd give me a couple weeks to "get the feel" of store #1, before giving me management responsibility. I should have known better. The next day, while trying to wait on customers, I was being given keys, combinations, codes, location of checkbook to pay for gas supply trucks, ordering info., had the owner and bookkeeper talking to me, and was conducting job interviews — all at the same time! (Talk about a crash-course on small business management — wow!) [Started molesting P— while working there] Then the manager of #2 quit. I had a full, trustworthy crew, so I went down to fill in at *2, hired a part-timer for the weekend day position there, and the owner and I talked my full-time graveyard lady into taking the #2 management position after I had been away for 2 weeks. So I went back to #1, minus my graveyard employee. By the end of October, 1988 both stores were running smoothly and the owner was becoming human. (He was well known by other local businessmen as a ruthless, selfish, @*%#). I was tired of having to check in with the store on my days off and being on call 7 days a week, 24 hours a day. We had several business accounts, companies that used lots of gas, such as construction companies. One of those accounts was with a painting contract company. I kept special business credit cards at the station so I was acquainted with the job supervisors and office management that were allowed to charge on their business gas account. One day, when I was busy doing six jobs at once at the store (normal for that store!), one of the upper management for the painting company gave me a funny look, then stood aside until my customers were gone. He gave me his card and said I looked like a hard worker that liked to stay busy and told me to come to see him. I did — I gave the store 3 weeks notice and trained my replacement. A PAINTING CONTRACT COMPANY: Nov. - Dec, 1988. I started in the "basement", joined the union, and signed up for 2 years of painting school, which also taught every other way possible to cover any kind of wall. They did everything from sandblasting to hanging wall drapes in movie theatres. I didn't like the work, and quit. A MAJOR CONVENIENCE STORE/GAS STATION: Jan. - April 1989. Both stores needed part time positions filled. The owner was glad to have me back, whether I was in management or not (though they kept hinting they (boss & his bookkeeper wife) wanted me to resume management duties at #1). I was worn out on management, so the *2 manager was very happy to have me working day shift on her days off. It also meant she had a very experienced, competent replacement and she wouldn't have to worry about "her store" when she went on vacation. I worked 2 days a week at each store often filling in for the sick at either place. By the end of April, 1989 1 had moved to Buckley, a 45 minute drive to work. Also, I realized I was slowly being given more & more responsibility at Store #1, responsibilities reserved for me when I was the manager, responsibilities I wasn't ready to take back. I quit without giving notice. I sat at Dad's in Vancouver "resting" and the 3rd week of July I went on vacation with Dad and my step-mom. The last week of July, I worked for a temporary employment agency, but worked only one day, so I went to another temporary employment agency. TEMPORARY EMP. AGENCY I was sent out to a paper company in Vancouver, who had asked for temporary help. After one week, the supervisor at this company said he'd hire me as soon as I could get out of my obligation with the agency. After two weeks I quit the agency. A PAPER COMPANY I started to work full time as a laborer (packing boxes with receipt rolls, fax paper, and other items in the "small roll division" of the company) on August 1, 1989. On Sep. 1, 1989,1 moved into my small studio apartment. In mid-September, 1 was promoted to shipping clerk. Then news came that the small roll division was being shut down at the end of the year. The company was trying to find another position for me, without having to demote me in order to keep me at the plant. It didn't matter. I was arrested in Nov. 13, 1989. (Shipping clerk also means inventory control and fork-lift operator). The company also put out "lined paper pads" such as what I'm writing on. I assure you, I would not have shipped out paper with such poor quality as this. Some lines on this paper actually curve. I don't know how the machinery did that. It shouldn't be possible with the machines we used here. And the lines on these pages, on the back sides, are faded, dotted or missing! No, I would NOT ship garbage like this to my customers (my job as shipping clerk also included quality control) Well, that's what I have done with my life. Exciting, huh? And Levy & Mandel are telling the State Supreme Court I've got an excellent employment history and that I "held jobs for long periods of time!!" My jobs lasted an average of 11 or 12 months! True, I was a good worker — the grocery store, the charitable organizations, and the service stations all re- hired me. And I never put in more than one job application and many of my jobs I got without actually going out to look for work (the restaurants in Richland, the job the court clerk got for me, the apt. mgr. sending me to her husband, and one of my own customers hired me and took me away from the service station). I could walk into ANY convenience store with a help wanted sign, be working that night, on my own in two days and a manager within 5 months. Work has never been a problem for me, but, I did not hold jobs for long periods of time! If I didn't get fed up and quit, or have better offers from my customers, then I was fired because of my crimes & jail. I can work in restaurants of any kind — any position. I can work as a checker, stocker, or produce department in grocery stores. I've worked for professional janitorial services. I can do factory labor work — several positions. As a shipping clerk, I also learned how do any job available in warehouses, including "light equipment operator". (Forklift driver!) I can work any position in convenience stores and/or gas stations. I am a "backyard mechanic". And in the Tri-Cities, if not for my crimes, I could use my "nuclear navy" knowledge, skills, and security clearance to get work at the Hanford Nuclear Facility. I've never had any great ambitions, but employment was never a problem for me. The more demanding the job, the better (but the service station burnt me out!). Physical or "mental" work, I loved it all. I was a workaholic of the worst kind! Oh yeah, in the Navy, I was also trained in fire fighting and advanced first aid. Damage control training on submarines gives you a lot of abilities as a plumber. I also have knowledge in electronics, radar, sonar and navigation. I was control room qualified. I could have got my choice of positions in the Merchant Marines, on tugboats on the Columbia River or with the State Ferry System. I guess I really "had it made". I threw it all away. Some people seem to think I'm hiding the "nice half" to myself. There is NO nice half. My sole reason for living has been to abuse kids in some way. To keep myself alive, I lied to employers, I stole from employers, I moved out of apartments without paying rent, I used people for everything I could get. I've got bad checks all over Washington and Northern Idaho. I've fired my employees at convenience stores for doing the same crimes I was doing (till tapping, etc.), and you're not the first one to ever call me an asshole or accuse me of being rude. I don't pay bills (phone, electric, etc., I used phony names to keep a phone in my apartment), I've been called a racist hundreds of times, I've been told I'm inconsiderate and don't care about anything or anyone but myself ... I could go on for pages & pages. You are "getting to know the man himself". YOU just don't LIKE what you're finding. I'm tired of pretending to be a nice guy. It makes me sick. If you don't like "the real me," too fucking bad. I'm not in prison for being polite, considerate or any other similar crap. That concludes this aspect of my life so I'll get this mailed. - Wes Part II The Growth of a Pedophile From Exposing to Murder: Writing my employment record caused me to remember a few tidbits of information. There are a few "sex-related" incidents that I witnessed, most of which made me want to molest at least one of the kids involved. They all occurred while I was at work. No one else has ever been told this information. - Wes Author's Comment: Why? You ask yourself, why read through these perverted fantasies? It is not an easy thing to do. But if we are to understand how fantasies become reality, how they merge, then we must read his words from the beginning up to graduation — the final merger. — LS Lori, Some unusual "sex-related" incidents occurred when I was working various jobs, and even one year when I taught at the summer camp I mentioned in my work history. They weren't crimes I committed (except possibly one — at the camp), but things I witnessed. The first occurred as I was taking a lunch break from the food store. I didn't get lunch breaks until I went to work full time at age 18. The weather was hot. So, the incident must have occurred in the last half of the summer of 1979, the summer of '80, or the first half of summer, 1981. This means I was 18 or 19 when it happened. I came out of the store to go to my car in the side parking lot. I noticed a car parked in the no-parking zone in front of the store. That was not unusual. Now — I want you to understand — this was the biggest, busiest grocery store in town — and we had the 2nd highest customer volume of all stores in the entire Tri-City area. The food store had at least 20 employees on duty always — up to 40 during peak hours, and a drug store — in the same building — had another 5 or 6. So — there are many people passing in or out the doors to the store. The car in the no parking zone was a normal occurrence. There was a 14 or 15 year old boy sitting on a bike, looking into the car. When I got to where I could see in also, I saw a 9 or 10 year old girl with her T-shirt pulled up. She saw me, pulled her shirt down, the boy looked up, turned red, and grinned. OK — I can pinpoint it to the summer of 1980 — the summer I turned 19. I remember thinking that kid was pretty bold, getting a girl (who was flat-chested, by the way) to pull her shirt up in a car in front of such a busy place. I also remember being glad I had gotten "a free peek" that no one could possibly blame me for. I also remember thinking that if the boy was 4 or 5 years younger I'd give him a choice — I'd call the police, or he could come to my apartment that afternoon (after I got off work) for a "talk." (He would have had the option of letting me molest him or explaining his earlier actions to the police). Yup, insignificant, but I thought I'd mention it. Now to a convenience store in Clarkston, during the time I was molesting two little boys, I was working the day shift on a Saturday. It had to be summer, so it was the summer of 1983 — about the time I turned 22. There were a lot of kids in the neighborhood, and it was not unusual for them to come in alone or in small groups on a Saturday. But this day, 2 unusual events happened — one, I liked, one I didn't. The "event" I didn't like was that I had a salesman in the store on a Saturday (he'd been sick & was trying to get caught up). I wouldn't normally mind, but his presence "interfered" with the "event" I did like. A 9-10 year old boy came in — he was wearing sweat pants and no shirt. This pleased me for 2 reasons: 1) I could see more of his body — his chest & belly button — I liked seeing boys with no shirts and long pants — (especially sweat pants) — it made them look "sexy." 2) He was one of 3 or 4 that I was fairly sure was shoplifting from us — no shirt, and no pockets in the sweat pants meant I wouldn't have trouble with him that day. But, as I was talking to the salesman, out of the corner of my eye I saw candy bars going into socks, under the legs of the sweat pants (that kid was pretty good, no wonder I'd had trouble catching him, even though I was sure he was a thief)- He came up to the counter to pay for a candy bar (slick kid — no matter what you take, always pay for something — don't leave "empty-handed" and arouse suspicion!). I liked to talk a little with my young customers — be friendly — it's good business, since they grow up to be beer drinking, cigarette smoking adults that like to put gas in their cars when they buy that junk. They may spend 25 cents a week now, but in 10 years it could be $20.00 a week! Anyway, I started my normal clerk-little customer talk "How ya doin today, buddy? Gonna go down to the river today?" A little talk — make them feel like important customers, then "Anything else?" No — he didn't have any more money. "Oh — you probably wouldn't want any then." (I named whatever it was I'd seen him put in his sock). He started getting nervous, and said no in a tone of voice that would indicate a very scared 10 year old who was afraid he might end up in jail any minute. (I'm sure he'd seen the police there before — we had a lot of problems with Indians and teens stealing beer). I said, "I'm pretty sure I saw you pick up something else. You sure you don't have anything else?" No! Honest! "If you go out the door without paying, I can call the police. If you tell me now I can't call the police." At this point, the boy grabbed the front of his sweat pants (elastic waistband) and underwear, and pulled them open, saying, "I don't have anything!" I looked right down at his genitals for 2 or 3 seconds. I couldn't believe this 9-10 year old would let me see into his pants & underwear, rather than give me what he took. If the salesman had not been there, I would have used that to my advantage. But, I said, "OK — OK — calm down!." (He was really scared). "Don't ever pull your pants open like that for someone to look in." (That I said for the benefit of the salesman) I said I'd seen him put something in his sock. He finally gave up and pulled the candy out of his sock. I gave him a warning and "2 weeks probation" — if he caused no more problems for 2 weeks, I wouldn't tell his parents what had happened. After 2 weeks I would "forget" about this incident, but he could no longer come in the store if I was busy — he'd have to wait until I could watch him. That kid was really scared. I took a gamble and didn't tell the police or his parents — he was a perfect customer after that — even when I was hiding in the cooler and watching, he'd come in months later and get what he wanted and then set it on the counter. No more problems! He'd learned his lesson! But — if that salesman had not been there, I'd have let the kid hold his pants open as long as he wanted. The store was not busy — one customer every 15- 20 minutes. It was my job to inventory and order cigarettes every Saturday. It was normal for me to spend IV2-2 hours in the back office, where cigarettes were stored in the hall between the office and employee restroom. (The door had a beeper — it could not be opened in or out without me hearing it). If not for the salesman, when the boy finally took the candy out of his sock, I'd have taken him back to the office for a "chat, telling him that if he was honest with me, I may not call the police. Once in the office I'd ask why he let me see into his pants instead of just giving me the candy," and, "would you rather let me see your private parts instead of being reported to police — is that why you let me see in, hoping I'd think you hadn't put anything in your pants?" After careful questioning about shoplifting and why he'd let me see into his pants, I'd have known if it would be "safe" to give him a choice of police or pulling his pants down. If I didn't think it was safe, I'd have let him off with a warning. If I was comfortable with his answers and reactions, I'd have sucked on his penis for a couple minutes. Then I'd have told him I didn't care if he stole candy on my shift, but I'd do that to him every time he did, then I'd hope he felt free candy was worth being molested once in a while. Looking back at that boy's reactions, it's a good thing the salesman was there. That's a situation where a boy "innocently" tried to prove he hadn't taken anything, but opening his pants, he opened himself up to becoming a victim instead of a little thief. There are just so many ways a child molester can get what he wants. In this case, I could have molested the boy and if he didn't let me do it he'd be the one in trouble with the police. I lived in that neighborhood at the time. If the salesman hadn't been there and if the boy would have preferred being molested, I may have resorted to blackmailing him — "come to my house once a week or I'll report you to police." And of course the possibility that he'd be willing to be molested in exchange for me "turning my back" when he entered the store in the future. The boy took a candy bar — it could easily have led to him being repeatedly molested. Scary, isn't it? A child molester will do anything to gain a new victim. One "unique" situation was while I worked for the gasoline supplier — on graveyard shift in one of the convenience stores (11-7 shift). The store was across the street from a large apartment complex. I had been warned to watch for 2 "juvenile delinquents" that lived there. It was the summer of 1986. Apparently 2 kids were pretty good at getting into trouble. Nothing serious — things like letting air out of car tires, waking people up in the middle of the night just for fun .. . never did any property damage — they were just pests. They were also referred to by more than one living at the apt. complex as "little homo's" (homosexuals). I assumed, by the descriptions I was given, that they were 16 or 17. About 2 one morning two boys came in. Well — it's summer — one must be staying at the other's house and they're just hungry for a chili dog. I was new to that store, but before long I knew that these 2 were both 11 years old, and were regular "customers" on graveyard shift. I also knew they were the homosexual, delinquent monsters I'd heard about. They never caused me any problems. Once or twice a week they'd come in and talk for about 20-30 minutes, usually after my "beer rush" just before 2 a.m. (when Washington cuts off alcohol sales). I got to know their names and talked to them about what I'd "been hearing" about them. I could tell that there was some kind of "unusual bond" between these two. They often had an arm around each other's shoulders, and sometimes when one would say something "stupid," the other would swat him on the butt (rather than punch him in the arm or push him like friends that age might be expected to do). I began to wonder if two 11 year olds could actually be having a homosexual relationship. I don't remember what I said or how I led into the conversation, but one night we must have been talking the usual — the guys liked to know what was being said about them — somehow we ended up talking about strip poker. The boys said they did play it with girls a few times. Next time I saw the boys and asked, they admitted to playing strip poker by themselves, "but only for practice so we can beat the girls!" Now, I was not really looking for victims at the time — I was molesting M— nearly every day, and these boys were "too old" for me at that time — but I was intrigued by them. I knew they ran free and never told their parents what they were doing or where they were going, and I knew they would spend up to 2 or 3 nights with friends and not even ask their parents or tell them where they would be (the parents just let them run?). So I began thinking: I know them fairly well. We've had some pretty honest and open discussions. They play strip poker together. They swat each other's butts. Other people from the apt. complex talked about the "little homos." One person claimed to have seen them in the field behind the store one night, facing each other and masturbating. Another claimed to have seen the fingers of one in the back of the others pants as they walked through the parking lot one day. There was bits and pieces, that, individually, I found hard to believe, but put together along with the admission to me that they played strip poker . . . Well, yes, I could molest M— whenever I wanted, but all he'd let me do was suck on his penis. He didn't like being kissed, and he would let me put my penis between his legs to simulate intercourse. (I wanted to "make love" to M—) And of course, M— wasn't very tall, so even if he let me simulate intercourse, I couldn't kiss him while I did it. Also, I liked sucking on E—'s penis because of its length, and on V—'s because it was thick — I "had a mouthful," but M— was pretty small. Thinking more and more, I decided I'd invite the two 11 yr. olds (I was 24-25) to spend my next days off with me. I was sure they would — we had already talked about going fishing together. By now it was September and school had started. I was living in a house with a co-worker, who would not be home on a certain weekend that I just happened to off work on. The house had a small backyard. It was completely closed in by very thick, closely spaced, very tall (10-12 ft?) evergreen shrubs. Just to make sure no one could see through the shrubs, there was an 8 or 9 foot tall solid plywood fence. It was a very private backyard — Vz the yard was taken up by a deck, leading off from the kitchen and master bedroom. It was a covered deck, with a Jacuzzi set into it. No neighbor could see anyone on the deck or in the Jacuzzi .. . yes —, M—'s mom and I used it "in our birthday suits" one night, and I'm sure that's why the owners of the house closed off the backyard the way they did when they lived there. Next time I saw the boys, I'd invite them over on that weekend I was to be home alone. Being September, they wouldn't bring swim trunks or shorts ... I'd show them the Jacuzzi, "Gee — too bad you didn't bring your swim trunks." If they didn't suggest a plan I'd say: "Well — we're all guys, and you two play strip poker anyway ..." Hopefully they'd agree to getting into the Jacuzzi nude. If they were a little "shy" they could undress in the house and wrap a towel around themselves. You can't see into the water when the bubbles are going — they could pull off the towels after getting in. (I'd of course be willing to let them see me in the nude, whether they wanted to join me or not in the Jacuzzi). If they did, I'd try to "check them out" as they got in & out. Whether I could "see much" or not, I'd later suggest strip-poker. Assuming that they would probably play, I'd keep the games going until I had seen each of them nude at least once. If I liked what I saw (that being no pubic hair) I'd suggest further activity. Maybe something like "I'll give a blow job to the next guy that loses." I was pretty sure I could engage these guys in a long, sex filled weekend. Maybe they'd let me kiss while I rubbed my penis in their crotch. Maybe one would even suck on my penis, perhaps while I sucked his at the same time. Maybe I could have anal sex with them like I'd tried with V—. Maybe I could watch and take pictures as they did various things to and with each other (I had already taken a few Polaroid pictures of M—). The possibilities with what appeared to be 2 eleven yr.-old homosexuals were endless (I still considered myself a child molester — not a homosexual). But the next time I saw them, I couldn't work up the "courage" to invite them over for the weekend — but I still had 3 nights to go — I'd be seeing them again before the weekend. 1 didn't. And in the 6 weeks before I moved to Seattle, I saw them several times, but there was never another opportunity to get them into an "empty house." That's a case where a couple of kids were freely talked about by all the neighbors, the parents didn't care what the kids did, and because I took time from my work (a very slow business on that shift — I was just a glorified night watchman — 5 or 6 customers in 4 hours!) to talk to them. I could have easily taken advantage of the situation, and almost did. Maybe those two 11 year olds were just "experimenting" with sex, but even if they [were] willing and eager to try things with me, it would not have been a good situation for them. I could have led them into true homosexuality, or if they did some things with me, then stopped, I may have raped them or used blackmail — (I'd tell their friends what they'd done if they didn't keep doing it with me). Wild boys and neighbor's gossip could have led to rape (or forced sex through blackmail). A sexual predator/child molester is always alert and ready for any situation or possibility that may arise. (If I had not been molesting M— regularly, I probably would not have "chickened out" that night I had the chance to invite them to my place. 1 would have been a little bolder with those two. Anything could have happened. And since they were wild and "running free," the kids had many "enemies," no one knew where they were half the time. Four or 5 years later and I would have asked them over, and cooperative or not, they'd have sex with me and with each other, then they'd "disappear." All because those kids and their neighbors talked to who they thought was a friendly graveyard clerk. I could not believe my "luck" when I worked for the charitable companies in Dec, 1986 to May 1987. Phone solicitors would call various neighborhoods/communities, telling them we would have a truck in their area on a certain day and asking if they had any reusable clothing or other household items they might like to donate. Those donating are asked to set the items out on their porch or in a place where the driver can locate them quickly and easily. In this way a good driver could manage 100-120 stops per day (it takes about 5-6 hours to pick up, depending on how spread out a route is). But, usually 25 to 30 times a day, I couldn't find a donation out and waiting, or things weren't clearly marked, so I'd have to knock on the door and ask if they had a donation for me (Most forgot to get it ready). In King County, when you knock on 25-30 doors everyday for 5 months, you see some strange things. One day, after working for a couple of weeks, I had 3 or 4 stops at one large apartment complex. Most had a bag of clothes marked for me on their front step. I had to knock on one door, it was about 9 am, one of my first stops. The lady said, "Oh, is that today? Come in, I'll get it ready." She had been peeking around from behind the door, so she opened it, let me in then shut the door. She turned around and opened the door to a closet there in the hall. She had on a T-shirt and I guess I assumed she had on shorts under it, that I could not see. But, with her back to me, she bent over to pick up some shoes off the closet floor to put in a sack for me to take. When she bent over, it was very obvious that she wore no shorts, no panties — nothing but that T-shirt. I had quite a "view." Later, talking to the two drivers who'd worked that job for 4 or 5 years, they said that sort of thing was fairly common — they might see something like that 3 or 4 times a year! Now, it seems to me, that it would be pretty stupid for a lady in her 20's or early 30's to let a man into her house that she doesn't know, when all she is wearing is a T-shirt. What would have happened if I was a "different kind" of sex offender and she bent over exposing her bare butt to me? One driver said one lady practically tried to rape him one day and others said it was normal to get invitations to "come back after work." I thought I'd like the 'fringe benefits' of that job! I didn't come across anymore women quite like that one, but something did happen to cause me to write down address in case I was ever in the area again either while working or other times in my personal car. One day, while waiting for a lady to get things ready, her 8-9 yr. old boy came home from school and started talking to me. He'd sure like to ride in the truck with me — no, his mom wouldn't care. I had just 2 or 3 more stops in town, then I'd be going out to an area where houses were hundreds of yards apart in a heavily wooded area. That boy was so friendly, I had the urge to tell him to hop in the truck (then I'd molest him out in the woods). But, because I could be easily identified through that truck I thought better of it and told him "maybe some other time." It would have so easy to take him with me. If it weren't such a crowded neighborhood and not one of my scheduled stops, I may have. This was not more than 6 months before I first tried to kill. I couldn't believe an 8-9 year old boy wanted to get in my truck and go with me, and he wasn't even going to ask his mom. It was the boy's idea — not mine! I started staying alert and watching for opportunities like that to occur again. One house was at the end of a dead-end road, and had a wooded area next to it. I knocked on the door and a lady answered. It was early afternoon, if I remember right. For some reason, kids weren't in school that day. The lady had 3 kids — a boy and girl 6-8 years old, and a boy about 2 — with her when she came to the door. She had me come into the living room to wait while she got things together. I loved it — the kids stayed in the living room. The 2 year old was completely nude. I don't know if I showed up in the middle of a diaper change or what, but that nude little boy stood there watching me while his mom was in another part of the house getting things together. She kept talking, saying her husband had died and she was just now getting around to cleaning out his things. For five minutes, I stood there staring at that 2 year old. I really wanted to get my hands (and mouth) on that boy. I wondered what he'd look like with an erection — his penis was about three inches long! I'd never seen any boy with a penis that long — but a 2 year old!? As I left the house I saw some kids coming out of the woods. I wrote down the address, so I could come back on a weekend and wait in the woods, hoping the two year old might wander into the woods following the other kids. Of course I would have molested any of the kids, but I really wanted to see what I could do with "little big dick" as I called him. I did go back one Saturday morning, but I wasn't comfortable leaving my car parked in plain sight while I waited in the woods for something that may not even happen. The kids weren't wearing coats, so it must have been April or May — just one or two months before I started planning murder. There was another house I wrote down an address for, but never went back to. It was late one afternoon — I had seen kids on the streets just a few minutes earlier, obviously on their way home from school. I knocked on one door, and the girl told me her mom had stuff ready, but "Mom's at work and I don't know where it is." Uh huh! Mom's at work. That means the kids are home alone after school. I wanted to make an excuse to get into the house, like, "can I use your phone to call my office?," and I actually thought about just stepping in the wide open door and closing it behind me, but I knew if the kids reported me, I'd be traced through the truck. What made me have these thoughts was this: When the door opened, a girl about 10 or 11 was standing there. She wore a pair of pants and a T-shirt that I figured was one of her dads. Behind her was a 7 or 8 year old boy — "totally nude." The way the girl was dressed, I figured she just pulled on a pair of pants & T-shirt to answer the door. The boy was hiding behind her, but it was quite obvious he was nude. AT the time, I figured the family were probably nudists. Later I thought that perhaps the girl had been a victim of incest, and she was then molesting her younger brother, but if that was the case she wouldn't have let him come to the door nude — it would "give her away." Or — the 7-8 boy and the 10-11 year old were having (attempting to have?) sex of some kind, but again why would a 7-8 yr. old come to the [door] nude? I was pretty sure they were nudists (I've heard some families are — in the privacy of their own homes), the girl dressed to open the door, but if the kids were open about nudity in the home, the boy was afraid to be seen (though he did hide behind his sister). Anyway, nothing happened, though I did hope to go back and get into their house one day. For whatever reason — that boy was nude and not afraid to come to the door that way. That is not a good thing for a child to do, whether the family is nudists or not. All 1 really thought about at the time was "Nude boy at door — girl obviously dressed fast to answer door — boy & girl home alone after school & both nude until I got to the door." I really wanted to find a reason to go back in, or maybe befriend the family. Fortunately, for some reason, I never went back. And again, this occurred one to six months before I first considered & planned murder. If that had happened after I had started planning, but before I went after K—, I may have forgotten all about possibly being identified through my truck and just entered the house when I saw that boy. Already nude would make it so much easier ... That's just things I saw in five months of knocking on doors in King County. People are pretty careless in the privacy of their own homes. But when adults, women especially, answer the door wearing nothing but a T- shirt, or a lady lets her two-year old run around nude or a nude 7-8 year old comes to the door — sure, it's the privacy of your own home, but that doesn't make you safe. You have no idea who is at the door, or why he may be there. It was while working for this company driving all over King County, that I found the area I intended to take K— to and it was on one of my routes that I found the school that I approached three boys at, before going to get K —. I did use that job to learn where all the isolated areas of the county were, where kids were likely to be playing alone, etc. I made marks on maps to indicate isolated areas where I'd seen kids playing. I had those maps in my car (in my briefcase) when I tried to abduct K~-. I would have gone back to that school in Kent, then pulled out my maps and tried somewhere else if I hadn't had a flat on my car after leaving K—. (If not for the flat I'd have kept trying, a little more desperately each time, until I got what I wanted that day. When 1 left K— and was headed back to see if there were other kids, or even the same ones, at the school I'd been at that morning, I had decided I was going to be more demanding. I may have just picked up one of the three and carried him off to my car). Anyway — I saw some unbelievable things on that job, and I did use my knowledge of the County (as a result of that job) in my attempt to kidnap for the purpose of rape & murder. Women and kids coming to the answer the door while nude? A woman leaving her nude two year old alone with a strange man? Kids asking to ride in my truck? It is so easy for an alert sex offender to find "easy victims." More later — Wes Author's Comment: Gone are the days when we could afford to be carefree. That this nation's children should have to worry about such horrors as who will steal them from their beds is a National Tragedy. That they should learn about sex from a pedophile is pitiful. That the lawmakers in this country would not provide us with adequate punishment tools is disgusting! - LS Lori, Going through your letter, the first question I see is, basically, what were my nearly 250 crimes, who were the children, and who did I have repeated access to? At age 13,1 lived 4 blocks from the Junior High School I attended. An elementary school was just one block in the opposite direction. The Junior High let out about 15 minutes before the grade school did. My brother (11 months younger than I was involved in some sort of after school activity, my sister attended the grade school, dad worked until about 5 p.m. Mom worked as a cook at one of the largest & fanciest restaurants in town. They had large banquets 2 or 3 times a week, and on those days, I would get home about 30 minutes before Mom did. As a result of all this, or 3 times a week in the spring of 1975,1 was home alone when the younger kids started walking past my house on their way home from school. (I was in the 8th grade — age 13). Now, I've set the scene. I don't know why I started doing this, nor can I recall what my fantasies (if any) were at that time, but as the younger kids (boys or girls, grade school) walked past my house I was standing in the upstairs bedroom window — I was nude, and had the curtains closed. Peeking out, I would pull back the curtains enough to expose myself from the waist down, keeping my face hidden. At times when a child or group of kids walked by, and no cars were on the street, I pulled backed the curtains and yelled "Hey, look up here in the window!" In this manner, I exposed myself to just one child or to groups of as many as 5 or 6. Finally, one boy reported it and a police officer came to the house one night, just TO LET the adults in the house know that SOMEONE had exposed himself in that house. He wasn't interested in who did it and no charges were filed. This scared me enough to stop exposing myself from my house, but by then, over a 2 or 3 week period, I estimate I exposed myself to AT LEAST 50 children. Every one of them a victim, and that is at least 50 of crimes, exposing myself. A month later school was over. The "brush with the law" no longer had me scared — I wanted to continue exposing myself, but now there weren't a bunch of kids walking past the house every day. So I got on my bike and went looking for kids to expose myself to. Again, it didn't matter if it was boys or girls, as long as they were younger than 10 or 11 years old. All I can say is that exposing myself was exciting and only one of over 50 kids had reported me when exposing from my house, some pointed, giggled, stared, stopped and watched until I saw a car coming and closed the curtain, some looked away right away. The general impression for me at that time was that most of the kids seemed to like what I did, and of course, I liked it. So, on my bike, wearing blue jeans and a T-shirt, I looked for kids, in yards, parks, on the street, at school playgrounds, anywhere. When I saw a kid or kids where I could expose myself to them without anyone else seeing me, I'd ride away from them, pull down the front of my pants and keep myself covered with my T-shirt, then I'd turn my bike around. As I neared the kids, I'd lift my T-shirt, stand up on the pedals of the bike and turn toward the kids, yell to get their attention thus exposing myself to them as I rode by. I estimate another 15 victims and 15 more sex-crimes in this manner. I started getting tired of exposing myself, it was not as exciting as it used to be. Looking back now, I guess I wanted "something more," something that would be exciting for me again. (I guess this is kind of like drugs, after a while, pot isn't enough, you need something more to get "a good high"). I didn't know what else to do, though. Then late that summer, I exposed myself to 4 boys (4 more victims, 4 crimes) as I rode past them. They were in the front yard of a house as I rode by in the street. By this time, I had exposed myself to at least 65 kids, and only 1 had reported it, but the police didn't seem to care so I was pretty bold, exposing myself from the street, I had NO FEAR of getting into trouble and only a small fear of being caught, (it would be embarrassing if an adult knew I was doing that). Something different happened on this day. As I rode past and again covered myself with my shirt the boys yelled "do it again!." That had never happened before. I went back and got off my bike on the sidewalk in front of the boys. Three of them about 9-10 yrs. old, one about 4.1 said I'd do it again if one of them did it first. My heart was racing, I had never asked a child to pull his/her pants down before this. This was just as exciting as that first time I exposed myself. The 4 yr. old right away said he would, and he did, pulling down the front of his pants for just a second right there on the sidewalk. The older boys then said something like "now you again." I suggested moving behind some bushes next to the house so no one else could see us. I pulled my pants down as all 4 boys watched. I couldn't believe they wanted to "see it again" and I asked "anyone want to touch it?" The 4 yr. old stepped forward and said "can I?," and I said, "sure, it's OK." He touched my penis briefly and told the other boys it was real, and they laughed. This was the first time I ever asked a child to touch me. At that point, I was really excited and wanted to do more with these boys who seemed so interested, but I was afraid to do anything more near their house out in the open. I wanted to get them where I and hopefully one of them, could pull our pants ALL THE WAY down, not just pull the front down. After just 6 or 7 seconds, I pulled up my pants. I was getting an erection as I pulled my pants up, but had myself covered before the boys could notice a change. A lot was happening — I was excited — it was the first time a child had said "do it again," the first time I asked a child to pull his pants down and the first time I had been touched by a child. I like it, the boys all seemed to like it. Becoming aroused gave me an idea, so I asked the boys if they could meet me at the school later in the day so I could show them some 'magic tricks' and maybe pull my pants down again. They all agreed to meet me. I was hoping to take them into a field next to the school, out of view of the school, houses and the road. The "magic trick" would be letting them watch as I gave myself an erection, then begin masturbating, telling them how good it felt, then I would ask if one of them wanted to try it. I was certain the 4 yr old would, then I would ask if he wanted me to "show him how" or to "do it for him." I was going to try to touch his genitals, another first for me. I also hoped to get at least one of the older boys to pull his pants down. But they never showed up at the school. I liked the feeling of that boy touching my penis. By this time I had turned 14, I decided to look for other kids that might want to touch my penis and maybe let me see or touch theirs. But I wasn't brave enough to just walk up and ask a kid or kids if they wanted to touch my penis. I invented a "guessing game," to trick them into touching me, and went looking, hoping to find someone as cooperative as those 4 boys had been. One day, I found three girls and three boys on a playground behind a school, they were all between the ages of about 7-10. I said "Hi" and asked if they wanted to play a game. They lined up, backs to me, and had to guess what I put in their hands without looking. All six kids held my penis twice, a few seconds each time. One boy said he knew what it was. I then told them all what they had touched and asked if they wanted to see it. The boys did, the girls went back to playing. I tried to get the boys to go with me to a more isolated area at the school, one of them said he would touch it again. I was going to pull my pants down, let the one boy and, hopefully, the others touch me and ask if I could touch one of theirs. But, two of the boys didn't want to go where I suggested and the third (the one who wanted to touch my penis again) wouldn't go alone. I left asking them not to tell anyone what we had done. A few days later, I played the "guessing game" with three girls — seven to eight years olds. When asked if they wanted to see "it," they all said yes. (At the time I felt very lucky that so may kids wanted to see my penis.) I said I'd show them if one of them pulled their pants down first. One said she would, then ran. I caught her and she laid down on her back (she fell down but not hard). I started to unsnap her pants, but she was crying and I let her go. A few days later this girl was with her father when she spotted me in my yard at home. The man told my Mother what had happened and my Dad had a short talk with me but the police were not called. Being caught that time, even though the police were not called, was enough to stop me from riding my bike all over town looking for kids to play the "guessing game" with. Most never reported the game or exposures, but I knew a few would. However, I felt I knew my cousins pretty well. At age 14, some cousins and I were talking about party tricks. I convinced a seven or eight year old female cousin to go into a dark closet with me. I was wearing gym shorts and quietly pulled them down. I put my penis in her hand and asked if she knew what it was. Still holding it, she said she did. I had her hold it tight and pull on it (at that time the idea of having her masturbate me did not occur. I was VERY naive at that age). I then opened the door to let in some light and told her to pull her pants down. She did, but made me close the door so I couldn't see her. But, when I asked, she said I could touch her. For the first time, I touched a child's genitals, just with my fingertips, to see what she felt like. Then, for some reason (I don't recall now what I was thinking), I put my mouth over her vagina and blew. Later, in her bedroom, I was shocked when she told her six year old brother what we had done. He didn't believe her, so I said "Let's show him." She said, "OK," and pulled her pants down, (I was very happy she was so cooperative). I had her lay on the bed, put my mouth over her vagina and blew. The boy didn't want to try it but the girl helped me talk him into doing it, telling him "it kind of tickles." He then let me pull his pants down, and for the first time I touched a boy's penis. I put my mouth on his penis and blew forcing it out of my mouth. (I don't recall why I did that, as I said, 1 was very naive at that age. Someone suggests perhaps I had heard the term "blow-job" and thought that's what it was). Later that day, I tried to put my hand down the boy's pants, but he wouldn't let me. A few weeks later another male cousin (age 7 or 8) was at our house. He and I were in my room and he had to go to the bathroom. This cousin had a habit of leaving the door open, so I said 1 had to go too, knowing he wouldn't mind if I went in with him. He followed me in and I told him to close the door so no one could see us. At that age I was just experimenting, I didn't even know what intercourse was and hadn't even heard of it, the idea just didn't exist. I asked him if he wanted to try something first, he said what? I told him and he agreed. (Boy, was I lucky he wanted to try it). We took our shirts off and pulled our pants down to our ankles. That fact alone was very exciting to me, as in previous contacts with kids I had my shirt on and only pulled the front of my pants down far enough to expose my genitals. No child had ever seen that much of my body before and I had never seen that much of a child before. The four year old had just pulled down the front of his pants, as had my other cousins, and all were wearing shirts. So, almost totally nude, with my heart racing just as it had the first time I ever exposed myself, I lay on the floor on my back and had my cousin lay down crosswise over me, his genitals in my stomach. After a few seconds, we got up and I said we'd better use the bathroom and get out in case someone else needed in. (I was afraid of someone finding me in the bathroom with him). Then HE wanted to try something. I couldn't believe my luck! If he wanted to try something he must like this kind of contact with me, and I could be sure he'd never report me. He wanted to pee into my butt so his urine would come out through me. I knew it wouldn't work, but I certainly wasn't going to prevent ANY kind of sexual contact he might want. I knelt down enough so he could put his penis against my butt and pulled my cheeks apart to make it easier for him. I made him stop when my leg got wet. We then used the bathroom and went back to my room. Looking back, it was very fortunate that I didn't know it was possible to penetrate another person in any way. If I had known that, I probably would have given the boy an erection so he could penetrate me and pee into my butt, then I would have asked to try it on him and if he agreed he may have been hurt, since I was a lot bigger than he was. All day I tried to think of something else to do with him. He agreed to "tug-o-war." I tied a piece of string to my penis, then to his, and pulled until he said it hurt. I stopped and we did nothing else. A few weeks later I was wanting to do something again but no cousins were around, so I got back on my bike and went looking for kids, exposing myself and hoping a boy or girl would pull their pants down and maybe let me touch them. I was also polite and friendly, never TELLING anyone to pull their pants down and never forcing them to. As a result, NO ONE pulled their pants down except me. On March 10, 1977, at the age of 15,1 exposed myself to two girls, ages 8 and 10 (according to my arrest record). I was later arrested, and confessed to this as well as 6 other incidents around town. The matter was turned over to juvenile authorities who decided nothing serious enough had happened to merit filing charges. Counseling was suggested, but I had gotten away with my crimes (exposure). I was a sophomore in high school at this time. Once a week, after school, I saw a counselor. He used two well known pornographic magazines to teach me all about sex, showing me the parts of a woman's body and telling me what they are called. He explained vaginal intercourse, anal intercourse and oral sex. He even told me what men could do together. ALL of this was NEW to me. I had never imagined such things before (until that point, I didn't understand ANY of the jokes the guys were telling in PE. class, "locker room jokes"). The counselor thought that the unbelievable lack of knowledge on sexual matters was half my problem. (Sex was never talked about at home and I don't recall ever having seen my parents kiss.) He thought the other half of my problem was that I was acting out because my parents were then in the process of getting a divorce. This was, of course, wrong. He only knew what the police knew — that I had exposed myself seven times in the last few weeks). He did not know I had molested three cousins, or that I had been exposing myself since age 13 — nearly two years BEFORE the divorce. I quit counseling when school ended that year, saying I didn't think I had a problem anymore. But I DID have a BIG problem. With that last cousin I had wanted to do more, but had no idea of what we could do. Now I knew everything it was possible to do to a girl or boy. Problem was, having been reported for seven incidents, I was afraid to approach anymore children I didn't know. Besides, none of the ones I had already approached would pull their pants down. I had just turned 16. Then, late that summer (August), after having gone 5 months without committing some kinds of sex offense (a long time for me), I was asked to baby-sit the neighbor's kids. I was 16 yrs. old. There were two boys, ages 4 years and 1 1/2 and a 3 yr. old girl. I immediately accepted the job knowing this was my chance to try out all my new knowledge — not just on one child, but on two — a girl and a boy. I would molest the older two, but not the baby. I made a list of what I wanted to do to each of them. Attempting intercourse with either one never entered my mind. I would masturbate the boy, lick his butt and genitals, and do oral sex on the boy. The girl I would just lick with my tongue, kiss her breasts. I would kiss both on the mouth. I would have each child do as many of those things to me as they wanted. And this wouldn't be like it was with that last cousin (shirts off and pants down) — we'd take our shirts off, take off shoes and socks and take the pants ALL THE WAY OFF That was exciting for me to just think about it. For a week I masturbated while visualizing helping them undress and then molesting them. Their parents were going to go out for an afternoon, but the day before I was to baby-sit, they decided to make it an evening instead. I was very disappointed to learn the kids would be asleep when I arrived. Wondering what I would do now, I realized this was a blessing in disguise. I could pull their pajamas down as they slept, and if I didn't wake them they wouldn't know it had happened, so they couldn't report me if they didn't like it. I really thought I was very clever to figure that out. Molest them in their sleep, I could still do everything I wanted if I was very careful and there was NO WAY ANY¬ONE would ever find out. They wouldn't be able to do any of those things to me, but it didn't matter. They had been asleep for an hour when I arrived. After everyone left, I checked on the kids — all were asleep. I waited about 20 minutes, then went into the room the boys shared. I pulled back the covers on the 4 year olds bed, and started to slowly pull down This underwear (I was glad he wasn't wearing anything else.) He stirred, so I left the room. I tried again 5 minutes later and again he stirred, rolling onto his stomach. 1 pulled my pants down and set the boy's hand on my penis while I tried to decide what to do. That contact felt great — his hand was nice and warm. This is what it was I had been looking for for so long. I looked over at the baby. He was on his back. He was pretty small (1 1/2 years), but he would be better than no boy at all. I let the 4 year old have his hand back and pulled up my pants. 1 tried to pull the baby's diaper down but it was too tight. I couldn't even slide my hand in the front. I didn't take the diaper off because I didn't know how to put it back on and was afraid his parents would suspect something if I didn't get it on right. I left the room and returned to attempt it with the 4 year old again about a 1/2 hour later, hoping he'd be in a deeper sleep, but again he stirred. I gave up. I went into the hall and stopped outside the 3 year old girl's room. I was determined not to fail with her. I was very excited, and not being able to molest the boy was frustrating. I took off my shoes so that my footsteps wouldn't wake the girl. I took off my jeans so the legs wouldn't make noise when they brushed together. I wanted NO sound to wake the girl. I went into the room and was very happy to see she had kicked off all her covers. She was on her back, and wearing one of her father's T-shirts, which came down to her knees. Watching her face, I sat on the edge of the bed, she did not stir. I bent over and kissed her, no movement. Then I started pulling her T-shirt up very slowly, watching her face. She never stirred. I pulled the shirt up to her chest and was very happily surprised to see she wore no panties. I had succeeded! My mouth got dry and my heart was racing. She was not TOTALLY nude, but I could see her stomach and EVERYTHING below. I left the room to calm down, then took off my shirt, socks and underwear and went back in. I set her hand on my penis, and felt her "privates." I kissed her stomach and vagina, then pulled her shirt down, left, and got dressed. The next day I was mad at myself for not spending more time with the girl and not doing everything I had on my list. I don't know why I didn't do more. I never got another opportunity to baby-sit those kids. The only reason I did that night was because their regular sitter was out of town. I still wanted to molest, but was still afraid to approach kids I didn't know, for fear of being reported. My dad started dating. In December of 1977, four months since I last molested, I met the lady's 4 year old daughter. That night, I "KEPT N- OUT OF TROUBLE" while her mom and my dad were in the bedroom wrapping X-mas presents. N— was on my lap watching TV. We were covered with a blanket. I had my arms around her holding her. When I slipped a hand under her shirt and rested it on her stomach, she didn't say anything. I asked if my hand was OK there, she said "Yeah," like, I was crazy for asking! I worked my hand under the waist band of her pants and asked "OK there?" Yes, again. Under the waist of her panties? Fine. Could I move my hand down? Yeah, It's OK if I touch you there? Yes. This little girl would let me touch her there — GREAT! You asked who the children were I had repeated access to, this was one of them. That night she sat on my lap for about twenty minutes while I rubbed her groin and vagina with my fingertips. At one point, I tried to penetrate her with a finger but she said 'ouch' as soon as I tried, so I stopped short of actual penetration. I didn't want to hurt her. I molested her in this manner 3 or 4 times, never actually pulling her pants down. One afternoon I was asked to baby-sit N— (not her real name). She was upstairs in her room and I was doing homework. I would molest her when I was done with Geometry. I went upstairs, passed N—'s room as she was coming out. She asked what I was doing and I said I had to use the bathroom. She said she did too. Thinking fast, I knew how to approach her about pulling her pants down for me, since she'd never pulled them down before (I always put my hand down her pants but was afraid to ask her to pull them down). (I have always kept myself ready for ANY kid of opportunity when I was around children, and once in a while a child would surprise me). I told N— to go first, I could wait. She went in and shut the door. After a few seconds, I told her "I gotta go bad, can I come in so I'll be ready when you're done?" She said yes. I went in and looked at her and covered my eyes with my hands, saying "Oops, I'm not supposed to see that!" (Later, when I was going to put my hand in her pants as I'd done before, I would ask if I could pull her pants down, since I'd "accidentally" seen her already anyway). But when I said, "I'm not supposed to see that," she said, "Why?" I asked if it was OK for me to "look at it" and she said yeah (her favorite word). She stood and I said, can I touch it before you pull your pants up?" She let me and after a few seconds, she said, "I thought you had to go." I said, "Oh yeah!" I only had to urinate, but since N— was watching me while she pulled her pants up, I pulled my pants down and sat on the toilet, pants at my ankles and spreading my legs so she'd get a "good view." It was the first time she had seen me and the first time I had actually seen her. When 1 had finished, I stayed on the toilet and asked if she wanted to touch mine since I touched hers all the time. I was already partially erect, so I took her hand in mine and moved it up and down, telling her it feels good when someone rubs it like that. I stopped her after about 15 seconds and asked if she wanted to see a trick. Her rubbing me had given me the strongest erection I'd ever had. (Remember, I was 16 and she was 4). It was another first, instead of my cousin holding tight and pulling or the hand of a sleeping child on my penis, I had a girl masturbating me. She asked what kind of trick. I said. "Now that it's big like this I can make white stuff come out." Yet another first, a child watched me masturbate. Having her watch, 1 had a very strong climax. Yes, this was the life, it sure was fun, it felt great, and N— would do anything I asked. I was a lucky guy. On another occasion we played "doctor." N— played dead while I pulled her shirt up and her pants down to "operate" on her. Being careful not to hurt her, I tried to penetrate her with a small metal object (about 1/2 inch diameter), but as with my finger, I stopped short of actual penetration. I knew she was just too small to penetrate with ANYTHING. On another night, while baby-sitting, N— was taking a bath when her mom and my dad left. AH I can remember of that evening is, when I took N — out of the tub, I too was nude. I had probably asked her if she wanted to try something else, she was always agreeable, I felt lucky to have a girl like her. I was on my knees, she was standing with her back to me. I put my penis between her legs, held it with one hand and balanced her with the other, and stood up, picking her up with my penis. That night, N— told her mom "I know a secret. Wes picked me up with his big P.P." Later at home, Dad screamed and yelled about me trying to destroy his relationship, then he took me to see a private psychologist that he was seeing. The police were never contacted, the counselor and 1 never really discussed why I was there, I quit counseling after 2 or 3 months, and still wanted to molest children. Dad and his girlfriend stayed together, (I guess they thought I was "cured"), and I did have other opportunities to molest N-- , but I couldn't trust her to keep quiet any longer, so I didn't try. [It might help persons who teach children about these dangers to know this, the ONLY time N— told her mom was when I put my penis between her legs. That, I thought, was the most serious thing I'd done to her, so I told her it was a secret, and not to tell anyone. That was the ONLY thing she DID tell.] I still wanted to molest, was afraid to molest N— again, and still couldn't get up enough "courage" to approach kids I didn't know. Then something great happened. N—'s 8 yr. old brother, M— came to live with his mother. When I heard that, I started planning ways to approach M—. How could I ask him to just pull him to pull his pants down? I'd have to do it in a way that he thought we were playing a game or something, take it one step at a time, and carefully watch his reactions, and stop if it got to a point he didn't like, hoping he wouldn't report me. I found out I had nothing to worry about. When M— came to live with his mom, his mom and my dad went to pick him up, in dad's camper. N— and I went along. On the 30 mile drive back home, M—, N— and I were in the camper, which had no access to the cab of the pickup. M— and I were on the overhead bunk, looking out the window. I was very surprised at what happened next. I had rolled onto my back, and M— leaned over and tried to unsnap my pants?! (I am not making this up, nor am I trying to say anything was his fault). My automatic reaction was to stop him and ask what he was doing. I was wanting to molest him, I certainly never expected a child to try to pull MY pants down! Right away I knew I had a situation I could take advantage of. Also, I got mad at myself for stopping him, should have let him do it. When I asked M~- what he was doing, he said, "I just wanted to see if you'd let me do it." (I don't believe he wanted to touch, just look). 1 closed the curtains around the bunk and dared him to try again, but he wouldn't. I asked, "Can I do it to you?" He said, "No, N—'s watching, she might tell." I knew, sooner or later, I would molest M—. The first counselor had told me all about what men and women could do. I had tried much of it with N—. He also told me what men could do together and now I had a boy I would see many times and I was eager to try out that part of my new knowledge. Dad and I stayed at his girlfriend's house late that night. After M— went to bed, I went upstairs "to use the bathroom" sneaking into M—'s room instead. I pulled back his covers (he was asleep), and attempted to pull down his underwear, but he stirred, so I left. (I wanted to do oral sex on him.) My first chance with M— came a few days later. M—'s dad had remarried and she also had kids. M—'s dad and my mom lived in a SMALL town where EVERYONE knew each other. One weekend, M— and N— were staying with their dad, and I was asked to baby-sit. M— (age 8), N— (4) would be there as was their step-brother, F— (8 or 9) and G— (11 or 12). My sister (age 12) was also there. I was 16. I don't recall planning on trying to molest anyone that day, but when I arrived about 15-20 minutes after the adults had left, I was again surprised. G— immediately said "Come here, I need to show you something," or words to that effect. She led me into the bathroom and tried to pull down my pants. I stopped her. A few minutes later, G— tried the same thing. I began wondering what was going on, then got angry with myself for stopping them. I should have let both kids pull my pants down, I should have taken advantage of the situation. I couldn't believe what was happening. I was wanting to MOLEST children, but now I was baby-sitting THREE KIDS who had tried to pull MY pants down. (Remember M— in the camper.) Looking back, I believe F— & G— had learned certain games from SOMEONE, those games being strip poker and spin-the-bottle, probably learned from another adult who liked to see nude children. When M—'s dad married their mom, those kids taught M —. My sister, and F— and N— had gone outside to watch the apartment's swimming pool being filled. G— and M— were in G—'s bedroom, I was in the living room. The boys went to the kitchen and took an empty pop bottle, going back to their room and closed the door. I had an idea of what they were doing and hoped to "catch them in the act," so I waited. A few minutes later, I walked in on them. One was wearing pants and shirt, no shoes or socks, the other was down to his pants. 1 asked what they were doing. 1 loved the answer. "Playing spin-the-bottle. Wanna play?" I SURE did! We played several games that day, playing until all three of us were totally nude, at which point the first one nude would have to do jumping jacks while facing the other two nude persons, then we'd get dressed and start over. (I couldn't believe I had two nude boys that day who didn't mind seeing me or being seen by me. I was so lucky.) Then the girls came into the apartment. The boys wanted to ask them to play, but I wasn't sure. My sister was there. The boys said my sister and G— had played with them before, so we got dressed and went to ask them. Apparently the 12 year old girls were willing to play with eight year old boys but not with a 16 year old, so the boys and I kept playing ourselves. At one point, F— came in to watch. When nude, I asked her for a hug, she left the room. Later all three of us guys, nude, ran into the living room and did a dance in front of the three girls, (N—, F— & my sister). There was no touching that day. School ended. That summer I turned 17 and M— turned 9. N— was in a day care center, and I usually stayed with M~- while his mom was at work. Nearly every day the two of us would play spin-the-bottle or strip poker, sometimes truth or dare. "Truth" questions were usually sex-related, such as M— asking "Have you ever humped a girl?" Dares were things such as running around outside of the house in the nude, when it was safe to do so without much danger of being caught. After a few months of this, seeing and being seen was not enough. I wanted to touch and be touched. I told M— this was getting boring and suggested a new game which sounded great to him. We both stripped, and one would be blindfolded. The other would tape a coin to his body, anywhere, and the blindfolded person would have to find the coin using his hands. He would rub the others nude body, EVERY PART of it, until finding the coin. We would switch positions and do it again. This new game always gave me an erection, and I began developing a real sexual attraction toward M—. We both liked being nude and being touched, as well as touching the other. One night, 1 decided I would try something else with M— the next day. He would be leaving the state with his dad in a few days and school would also be starting again. It might be my last chance with M—. I was to baby-sit M— from 11 a.m. until at least midnight that next day. 1 would have plenty of time to take M— beyond the point of just touching. (Again, I was 17, M— 9). When I arrived, M—'s 8 year old friend, O—, was there. I was told I could send 0— home if I wanted. I wanted to be alone with M—, not knowing how 0— would react to our "games," but I had a better idea now. M— would be leaving, if I was able to become 0—'s friend, maybe he could take M—'s place. I would use M— to help me approach O— about the idea of me seeing him nude. M— was comfortable with what we were doing (I carefully questioned him, making sure he knew he didn't have to do those things). To him it was just fun games. I figured if O — knew M— & I had seen each other nude, he'd both be more likely to join in and less likely to report it if he objected to it. M— did these things, believing it was just a game 1 played with him, he did not know that for me it had sexual overtones — I had groomed him. He was comfortable with spin- the-bottle and 1 carefully took him to where he was comfortable with touching me and being touched by me. I was ready to go on to oral sex on him, which I wanted to do that day, then I would go on to the point where he was comfortable with masturbating me, kissing, mutual masturbation, then hopefully, he would be ready to do oral on me (but intercourse never entered my mind). But, now I knew M— would be leaving. Later that night, I'd still attempt oral on M—, but during the day, I'd use him to introduce our games to O—. Then, if I could become friends with 0— and manage to be alone with him once in a while, I could groom him and take him to the point I had hoped to take M—. So, after some phone calls to OK it with parents, I took the two boys fishing, to a nice isolated part of the river, no one else was around. When we got out of town, I took my shirt off and put it in the back seat of the car, saying it was too hot out (about 90 degrees). When we got to a dirt road, I stopped and got out. Neither boy knew I had gym shorts on under my jeans. M— asked what I was doing when I unsnapped my pants. Watching 0— for a reaction, 1 said "taking my pants off." Seeing my shorts, they laughed and M — said he thought 1 was going to go streaking. I was in just my gym shorts now and no underwear (to make it easier to get dressed in a hurry if need be). Starting down the dirt road, the boys wished they, too, had thought to wear shorts. Leave it to me to solve that problem. "Why don't you guys just strip to your underwear? It'll be a while before we get there (the river), and no one is around, they couldn't see you in the car, anyway, and we all know what underwear looks like." I knew I could count on M—, he started tossing his clothes in the back seat, stripping to his underwear. 0— followed M—'s lead but left his pants on. So, 0— was not comfortable with being seen by others in his under- wear or did he not wish to be IN THE CAR in his underwear — would he do it in M—'s bedroom later? We turned onto a smaller dirt road. It was time to find out how O— felt about nudity. So, I said "Hey, M—, I dare you to ride on the hood with no clothes on!" He was willing to give it a try — Great! I stopped, M— took off his underwear and got on the hood. He rode that way for 3 or 4 minutes. 0— thought it was pretty funny, so I asked if he wanted to try. He agreed to try it if I went first. I showed M— how to drive the car in first gear, stripped and got on the hood. As M— drove, both boys were laughing. 1 pressed my genitals against the windshield to make sure they both (especially 0—) got a good "view." Unfortunately, I blocked M—'s view and he drove off the road. 0— would have got on the hood next, and I'm sure both would have been willing to go skinny dipping, (all the while O— becoming comfortable with him and me being together and nude), but by the time I got the car back on the road and a flat tire changed, it was time to go home. When we got home, M— asked if they could play outside for a while. I pulled him aside and asked "why don't we teach 0— to play spin-the-bottle and coin search (blindfolded person finding coin on other's nude body)." M— said maybe later. He finally came in, saying O— had to go home. I didn't even get a chance to find out where he lived, so there went my idea of grooming him as M—'s "replacement." But I did still have M— for a few more hours. After dinner we went to his room and started our usual games of truth or dare, spin-the-bottle and finally coin search. We played for about 2 1/2 hours, took a break, and played another half hour before I made my move. Neither of us had ever touched the other without a blindfold. 1 had touched M—, and had seen him, but never both at the same time, and he had never touched me while looking. Also, neither of us spent more time touching each other's genitals than necessary to find out if the coin was there. When we started after our break, I spent most of my turns being blindfolded rubbing M—'s butt, crotch, groin and genitals. He didn't say anything about the extra touching and he giggled when my hands would pass over the coin but I would keep searching his body saying I couldn't find it. So, I knew the extra touching didn't bother him. A half hour of the "extra touching" went by — he didn't mind it, but still wouldn't do more with me, quickly searching my body and genitals until he found the coin. I started masturbating him a few seconds each time. He still seemed comfortable and still kept taking his turns to be searched. Then, on one turn, I masturbated him long enough to give him an erection, felt it for a few seconds, then set my hand on his chest and took off my blindfold — the first time I saw M— with an erection. I said — "I just can't find it" (the coin) 1 asked if I could find it without my blindfold — he said sure. So, I knelt down over his legs, put both hands on his chest, "searched his upper body, slowly moving my hands down. M— was a little quieter than usual at that point. I started masturbating him again, he had lost his erection and I wanted him to have it for my next move. I would have carried this out for several days — extra touching, then finally masturbation, then on to oral sex, but I was out of time. I think M— began to realize this was not just a game to play, that I was doing it for some other reason. When he was erect, I intended to just start doing oral on him without warning, but when 1 bent down and opened my mouth, I could sense he was becoming a little nervous, but not scared. To help him relax, 1 said, "Dare me to suck on it? I've done it to other kids, they all like it." He said, "Go for it." I asked, "How long?" He said, "One minute." By letting him set the time and giving him my watch to time it, I was letting him think HE had control of the situation. I did oral sex on him and stopped when he said time was up. He made comments about my wet mouth and wondered what it tasted like, but he got dressed and did not want to play anymore that night. I never saw M— again before he moved. It was now late August, 1978 and I was entering my senior year at high school. All that year in school, I worked evenings and weekends. When I had time I would go looking for kids to expose myself to, but it wasn't the same, and it was too cold to ask them to pull their pants down or they were unwilling when I did say, "I'll show you mine if you show me yours first" I always made it their choice and never pressed them, at that point I was willing to take NO for an answer. By summer, around my 18th birthday, I was really wishing I had M— back. I overcame my fear of strange kids (ones I didn't know) reporting me. I spent every day riding my bike through a park by the river, or at other places such as schools, ball fields, etc. The park at the river was my favorite place, there was a large area (about three acres) full of tall shrubs — out of view of the park trails where a lot of boys and a few girls liked to build forts. On any given day, within 2 or 3 hours, you could find at least one boy, or small groups of boys all 6 to 10 yrs. old, and no adults around. The park was only a block away from a large housing area, so the kids would ride their bikes or walk, no parents. To me, at the time, it was heaven. After molesting N— 10 to 12 times, and molesting M— 2 or 3 times a week for 4 months, I was "hooked." I had an "urge" and the only way to satisfy it was to find another boy. Yes, boy — I think it was about now I started preferring boys over girls. N— had told, and it was girls that reported me before. The boys never reported it, seemed more cooperative and I could do more with boys than with girls. And besides, there were more boys than girls in the park alone. I'll stop here so this will fit in the envelope. I'm still writing and you'll get the rest in a couple of days. It will start with the first time I made a child I didn't know pull his pants down. If you have any questions about what I've already written, ask as soon as possible — time is VERY short. The State Supreme Court will be hearing my case on January 14, and are expected to set my execution date at that time. In the meantime, I hope you have a happy holiday season. Sincerely Westley A. Dodd Here's more of my crimes, how I got access to the children, etc. One day I rode my bike down to the park, determined to molest a boy. I finally found one about 7-8 years old, picking up his fishing gear. He was a little heavy for his size and age, but not fat. I preferred smaller kids, maybe those small for their age, but this boy was alone in an isolated area and 1 hadn't seen any other kids. I talked to him a little about fishing, asked him his name and gave him a fake name. I asked if he wanted to see something really neat that I had found. He said sure, and followed me down a trail into a heavily wooded brushy area. I WAS going to molest this boy, the first time I would molest a boy outside and the first to be molested that I didn't already know. When we were out of sight of other trails, I stopped and said, "I think it was about here." He asked if it was a snake (ah — so boys would follow me into the woods to see a snake, I'd have to remember that for future use). I said, "No, before I show you what it is, take your shirt off." He seemed puzzled and asked "Why?" and I said, "Just do it, you'll see in a minute." He was nervous, but took his shirt off saying, "I don't have a very good tan." (I guess he was trying to find some reason for my request). I reached out and he handed me his shirt. (The less clothes he had on, the more exciting it was. He'd just pull his pants down, not take them off to make it easier to get dressed fast if I heard someone coming). I told him, "Okay, now I want you to pull your pants down." I was talking in a slow, calm voice, reassuring him as much as possible under the circumstances. He asked "Why?" and I said, "Because I want you to. Don't worry, I promise I won't hurt you, I just want to look at it." He said, "Oh, 1 don't know how I'm going to get out of this one." I said, "You're not. Just do it and I'll let you go." Then I saw 3 older kids coming down the trail and told the boy, "OK, you can go. Just don't tell anyone you saw me." Ten minutes later, I was angry with myself for letting him go. I could have just taken him to another part of the park. I had come so close and had become aroused while talking to him, oh, how I missed M—! I rode my bike to the other end of the park, another secluded area about three miles away. I saw a boy about 6-7 years old pushing his bike toward a trail that led up over the levee and into town. This one would not get away so easily. I stopped him, and with a more commanding voice than I used earlier I told him to put his bike down. He started to push it again and I grabbed his arm and said, "Put it down." I used no "small talk" first with this boy. He let the bike fall down and I told him to pull his pants down (get it done — don't waste time with the shirt). He stood and stared at me then started to pick up his bike. I said, "You're not leaving until you do it." He just stood there, hands at his sides — he was scared. I started to unsnap his pants and he moved his hands to stop me, but I moved his hands back to his sides saying, "Huh-uh, you won't do it, so I will." He said, "OK," and slowly pulled down the front of his pants. I said, "Down a little more" and I pulled them to his knees. I put a hand on his genitals and he shivered (not because it was cold). I said, "I promise you I won't hurt you," and put my mouth on his penis. I held his penis in my mouth for 5 or 6 seconds, then pulled his pants back up, told him, "OK — don't tell anyone you saw me, you can go." I left the park right away, in case he DID tell someone what happened. As time went on, it got easier to approach the boys and I was never again so forceful as with that last little boy. I would wait until a boy playing alone was in an isolated area, approach and greet him, talk a little, then say, "What would you do if I told you to pull down your pants?" If they said 'no' I'd let them go. I knew that within 3 or 4 days, I'd find one that wouldn't resist — it would be soon enough and I didn't want to force them like that one boy. When one did pull his pants down, I'd ask, "Can I touch it? I won't hurt you." They usually said 'yea', either because they were interested (some giggled about it) or because their pants were down, it didn't matter anymore. (One boy, when asked to pull his pants down hesitated, I nodded and he did it. Then when I asked to touch it he sighed and said, "Might as well, now.") After a couple of seconds touching, "Can I put my mouth on it?" Any child that had let me go that far always said 'yes' to the mouth. A few stopped me after just looking, which was fine. If I pushed it they may report me, but if I gave them enough control to stop me when they wanted, they'd be less likely to report it, and I could always find another who was more cooperative .. . (WHICH IS WHY ALL CHILDREN SHOULD BE TAUGHT TO NOT COOPERATE). On three separate occasions when I was feeling unusually bold and found no boys playing alone, I approached a group of 3 boys. After a short chat I'd say, "I want one of you boys to pull your pants down before you go." The first time, one boy immediately volunteered, they were all about 7 yrs. old and none seemed scared or concerned. I had the 2 turn and face away, the boy pulled his pants down, said I could touch it, and yes, I could put my mouth on it. This boy, as with others, had his pants down no more than 20-30 seconds (but, of course, that's long enough to destroy their lives). This boy said it felt weird as he pulled his pants up. The others said they didn't want to try, and again, this group of boys didn't seem concerned at all about what had happened. On another occasion, 3 boys started to leave and I said I wouldn't let them go until one of them did it. They were all pretty scared, one was crying — the least scared said he'd do it so the others wouldn't have to. They promised not to tell. The other group of 3 — one volunteered while the other 2 kept playing in the river. This group wasn't too concerned either. But this was different. This boy, after pulling his pants down, must have seen a reaction from me. I had heard of this, but never seen it. He asked if I was a doctor. 1 said yeah, "I go around checking boys for free to make sure they are OK." He told me, "My dad said I wasn't circumcised when I was born." I told him to pull his pants up and I left. A few minutes later I turned back. In my shock at seeing an uncircumcised boy, I didn't even touch him. Some of the boys got an erection while I sucked on their penis — I wanted to see what this boy looked like when erect. (He was still there). BUT he wouldn't pull his pants down again, and he wouldn't let me put my hand in his pants, so I left. I can remember actually molesting 4 boys in the summers of 1979 and 1980 — the summers I turned 18 and 19. (Birthday — July 3rd).l don't know how many attempts I made and there may be some I don't remember. The one I forced and the one's in each group of boys I remember clearly. When I wasn't molesting (or attempting to), or when I couldn't find any kids, I would go skinny dipping or walk or ride my bike (while nude) on the trails at that park. I would sit at the place where I last molested a boy and masturbate. I would also ride out into the desert outside of town, hide my clothes under a lone tree, and walk or ride through the desert leaving my clothes behind. On a few nights, at 1 or 2 in the morning, I'd put my sneakers (nothing else) and run around the block in the nude. The only reason I wore shoes was to protect my feet. I would do this in summer or winter. One night I was out for nearly 2 hours, my clothes at home, while I walked around, hiding when I saw headlights coming, and I spent some time (about 2-3 AM) at the nearby school playing on the swings, slides and other playground equipment. Occasionally I still exposed myself, but I was never caught in any of my "nude excursions." In the summer of 1981, I joined my mom and stepdad on their 8 acre farm. I immediately became friends with 2 neighbor boys who were always coming around. W— was 7, Q— was 10. On my 20th birthday, I was setting up a large above-ground swimming pool that had been left behind by the previous owners of the place. W—, the one who came around the most, came to help. When it was time to fill it up, I went inside "for a drink," and W— followed — no one else was home. I had been wanting to molest him, but wasn't sure how he'd react and hadn't tried anything after having known him for 2 months. This may be my chance. I was often home alone — I would have plenty of these times with W— he might just be my replacement for M —. I would have to be very careful about how I approached him. I didn't want to scare him. I wandered into my room, and of course W— followed (he liked being my "shadow"). I kicked off my shoes and took shirt off, saying "I think I'll put my swim trunks on so I can check the inside of the pool for leaks. W — stood there as I started pulling my pants down. I said, "You going to watch?" He said, "Oh," and started to leave. I said, "That's OK — you can stay — I just wanted to warn you I'm taking my clothes off." He sat on the bed while I undressed. He didn't stare, but he didn't look away either. (Good, he's got some interest in seeing my body, I thought. Actually, it was probably just the natural curiosity of a 7 yr. old boy who hadn't seen his dad in 5 years — but I didn't care about that). I could tell he was trying not to look, but he did "peek" several times, and I made sure he could see my genitals, having to walk across the room in front of him to get to the dresser my swim trunks were in. As I pulled them on, facing W—, I talked so he'd look at me and said, "Why don't you go get your swim trunks on and meet me at the pool?" He agreed, and left. I had to be careful with W— he was a pretty sensitive boy, but he liked and trusted me, and he stayed in the room while I changed. It was part of my plan. I knew my nudity didn't bother him. Would he let me see HIM nude, though? I would try to get him to go skinny dipping — the pool was behind the house, no one home and W—'s house, the closest, was a mile away. As the pool started to fill, I knew W— liked to wrestle, we had done so before, but we had also had on pants and shirts when we did. I suggested wrestling in the pool — it had taken 20 minutes to get about 1 inch of water. W— agreed, and we wrestled, him for fun, me to touch his skin as much as possible. Once, when I let him pin me on my back, 1 pulled out the front of his trunks and let it snap back. He did it to me — great! Then I stood up and wrapped an arm around him from behind and grabbed the hose. Looking down over his shoulder I pulled open the front of his shorts and put the hose in. He laughed and said it was cold. I don't think he realized I was looking at his genitals the whole time or if he did, he didn't care. I held his trunks open for several seconds. Three or 4 times I did that to him. He did it to me also, but he just stuck the hose in and let go of my trunks, and he didn't peek in. Then I pinned him again and jokingly complained about not being able to reach the hose. He grabbed it and said I'd never get it. That was my opening! I opened the front of his trunks, made sure he knew 1 was looking in, and said, "I'll just put my hand in instead!" He said, "Yeah, SURE," in a sarcastic tone and I said, "I really will — I've done it to other kids, they say they like it." He declined my "offer" and I dropped the subject. We went on as though nothing happened. I was sure I could molest him and he wouldn't report it, but I'd probably never see him again, either, and I liked having him around — he was fun to wrestle with. Besides, he did have a brother — while not my first choice, 10 year old Q— was better than nothing, and he just showed up. It was about 10:30 a.m. (I preferred W— because I was still not totally comfortable with approaching the kids — not knowing how they'd react — so the younger the better at that point. Also I didn't want too old a boy, I knew boys matured at different ages, and I didn't like the idea of pubic hair. I liked kids, not men). Since the pool wasn't full, and both boys wondered when we could use it, I offered to take them to the river. The boys went home to ask their mom and called me on the phone to say they were getting ready. We were going on a picnic — I'd pick the boys up in my car at 11:30 and we'd be gone until sunset. I got dressed, packed my car, and put some towels in the trunk, along with my wet swim trunks (both boys would later see me change clothes). When I picked them up they were in their swim trunks, and had a change of dry clothes with them (maybe I could watch them change). They asked about my trunks and I explained they were in the back — "I don't like to drive in wet clothes." They knew where we were going, and they thought it would be fun to explore. My reason was that it was isolated and there was no chance of anyone seeing us — not even boaters. To shorten the story, I finally made my move. I would put my hand in the front of Q—'s shorts in a way that he wouldn't know what I was really doing. I came up behind him, and before he knew what happened, I had shoved my hand into the front of his shorts. I pressed a handful of mud into his genitals. To him, it was just some mud being dropped into his shorts, he didn't know I was feeling his genitals. He did what 1 hoped he would do. He dropped some mud into MY trunks. Then instead of going into deeper water to rinse himself off, I was happy to see him sit right there in 3 or 4 inches of water and pull his trunks down just enough to splash water on himself and get clean. Well, if he was going to do that... I took my trunks completely off and was very open about cleaning myself off, before putting them back on. W— thought all this was pretty funny, us playing in the mud like little kids! A half hour later, I asked, 'Anyone care if I go skinny dipping?" (They didn't mind.) After about 10 minutes, I asked Q— to join me, he did, but when I tried to get near him, he'd swim away. For about half hour all I got was glimpses of his butt. I asked if he wanted to wrestle in the mud. He did, but only if we had our trunks on. I agreed, we dressed, and went to a large area with deep, gooey mud. I said, "How about nude mud wrestling?" No. "OK, what if part of the fight is to take the other guy's trunks off? You can try to stop him but you can't pull them back up?" He agreed. I was so happy. We had each other's trunks off in 3 or 4 minutes and we rolled around in the mud wrestling in the nude for about 20 minutes. W— had picked up our trunks so they wouldn't get lost and was watching us, saying "This isn't a nudist beach." What happened next was a surprise. I had let Q— pin me on my back, he was sitting on my upper legs, his genitals resting on top of mine. We were both looking down. I had a full erection and noticed Q— also was partially erect. (I'm not saying he was sexually aroused, as I was, but all the brushing and rubbing while wrestling must have stimulated him enough to cause an erection). Then Q— said, "Look at mine compared to yours." Ah — great! He showed interest! I reached up to touch his genitals, but he stopped me. Then he shocked the hell out of me. I don't know where a 10 year old had picked this up, and for him to want to try must have just been that childhood curiosity kicking in, and I had never considered doing anything like it before but Q— said, "Can I butt fuck you?" I couldn't believe it! I didn't know what to do. When I came to my senses I said yes, (far be it from me to turn down ANY kind of sexual contact with a child — if he wants to experiment — let him!) I rolled over and spread my buttocks for him, but he was unable to penetrate and gave up. I said I knew "another way to do it" but he said, that's OK (meaning no) when I offered to do oral on him. I then offered to help him (by masturbating him) get a better erection so he could try again but he declined and wanted to put his trunks back on. We finished the day like everything was normal. Looking back, Q— was comfortable with our "innocent games" — it was all fun — and it was just a child's curiosity wanting to experiment (I'm told by psychologists that many boys will experiment in this way, but usually with someone their own age), but when Q— realized I was wanting something out of this contact he became very uncomfortable. A few days later, I was watching the young male cousin who was the first boy I ever molested, and W— & Q— came over. I tried to talk the 3 boys into playing spin-the-bottle, but they didn't want to. I never tried again. At the end of summer in 1981, at age 20, I joined the Navy, volunteered, and was accepted for submarine training and duty. Almost forgot. While waiting to be tested, examined, probed and everything else an enlistment requires, I had a month to kill before reporting for active duty. Driving by a small park one day I saw what I thought were two boys, about 9-10 years old. I would soon be in the Navy and knew it would be quite some time before I could molest again. I stopped, but I couldn't do anything there, too many houses in sight, so I went on to the park where I had molested before. I became a quick friend of a 10 yr. old who was swimming alone in the river. I wanted to get him to a more isolated area so I could get him completely nude. I wanted to do with him what I had done with M— (all the games), and most recently with Q— I asked him if he wanted to go with me to a better place to swim. To my delight, he said he would, if we could go to his aunt's house to get his inner tube. Getting in my car didn't bother him at all. I had told him my name was Mark and I was a lifeguard. I was very excited, I had an erection, and I was nervous — for two reasons. This may be my last chance to molest before the Navy and maybe my last chance for 4 years, so I intended to get this boy naked whether he agreed or not. I hoped he would be as willing as M— or Q— had been, since they were all about the same age, but even if he was like some of the kids in the park, he'd do it anyway. I was going to forcibly remove his trunks if necessary, which is why I wanted to get him to the most isolated area I knew of. I didn't want to hurt him, and planned to take him back to the park where I had found him when I was done — by the time he got home, I'd be long gone and if he reported me, they'd never find me in the Navy! (or so I thought). The other reason I was nervous was going to his aunt's house to get his inner tube — what if someone saw the boy in my car? We got away without being seen. I learned he was visiting from another state and would be leaving the next day. Great! Less chance of him being around to identify me! We must have drove further than he expected, he got quiet. When I asked him, he said he was just thinking — his mom had warned him about weird men who took kids and killed them. I questioned him — did I look like a killer? Did he know any strangers named Mark who worked as a lifeguard? I had him laughing. But now I wasn't sure I could carry out my plans. I WASN'T going to hurt him, and I WAS going to take him back to within 6 blocks of his aunt's house, but could I still force him to take his clothes off if he didn't do it when I asked? We had some fun, I asked if he cared if I went skinny dipping. He wasn't too sure about it. 1 dared him to do it with me. He didn't want to and I didn't force him. I took him home about an hour later when he was tired of swimming. 1 had taken him about 10 miles away, without his parents permission, but the word "kidnap" never entered my mind. I was becoming desperate — only a couple weeks, then the Navy. The next day, I was headed back to the park, maybe the same boy would be there again, or I'd find another, and this time, I'd carry out my plans no matter what. But 1 didn't get there. Going past that same residential park I again saw what I thought were the same two boys I passed up yesterday because of the nearby houses. I would get them in my car somehow, take them out to that same isolated area, make one or maybe both undress, do what I wanted, make them do it to me and maybe to each other. Again, the idea of kidnapping never entered my mind, but that's what it was. I parked and thought while I watched them. I realized they were girls, not boys. That was OK — they were older and BIGGER than Q— was, so maybe 1 could have intercourse with one. I realized that was rape. If I did that, they may report me. For the first time, murder entered my head. But I knew I couldn't do something like that. Maybe I could just leave them to die? No — I'd set them on the road and tell them where to find a phone — 3 miles away. Ah — I'd worry about that when the time came — maybe one of the would want to try sex on her own and I wouldn't have to worry about it. I asked the girls if they saw some kids who had thrown rocks at my car. They said they had (even though it didn't happen). "Did you see where they went?" "Yeah, they live down there." (They pointed) "Would you come with me and show me where?" "Well, would one of you come?" These girls, aged 7 and 11, had been warned about "strangers." They had been playing along and wouldn't get in the car. They remembered my license plate number. I confessed to police that I wanted to take them out to an isolated spot and molest them. My record showed only exposure incidents, never charged with a crime. They charged me with attempted indecent liberties, but since nothing happened — I just talked to the girls and it was unlikely the girls would testify, the charges were dropped. If 1 hadn't joined the Navy then, I may have been killing within a year. I would have found another boy who would willingly "go swimming" with me, would have forced him to strip, and kill him to keep him quiet. I knew no one had seen that last boy with me. I could have killed him, weighted his body with rocks, and dumped him in 5 feet of water where boats and fishermen never went. He would have simply disappeared. But — the Navy stopped me. I never had more than that passing thought of leaving the girls to die and didn't think I could do even that. Boot camp, then submarine school. I was pleased to find out that families lived on base. Navy bases have indoor swimming pools, which I visited one day. When I went into the locker room, two boys, about 9 yrs. old, were just coming out of the sauna, which was in the men's locker room. As I was changing into my swim trunks, a man came out of the sauna — he was nude. Well, why not. In the military, you usually do shower in a shower room with other men, and the sauna WAS in the locker room. A little later, I noticed the guy was leaving. I was in the building alone — along with the two boys. I kept an eye on them. If they headed for the locker room I'd follow, hoping to see them in the shower, or let them "accidentally" see me in the shower. If they went into the sauna again, where they know men don't wear anything, well, that's where I'd ask if they wanted to do "something that feels good." But nothing happened. Submarine training ended. Author's Comment: Most of Wes Dodd's letters are sexual in nature. He was consumed by his perversion. His sexual identity was centered on children, America's children. And America's children are your children! - LS I was stationed at Bangor, Washington. Bangor is a submarine base about 20 miles of Bremerton, where there is a major naval base. From Bremerton it's a 55 minute ferry ride to Seattle. My sub was in dry-dock in Bremerton for several months. This meant a 9 — 5 job, Monday — Friday. I lived on the base at Bangor. Buses ran from base to base 24 hours a day, and a special bus — the "liberty bus" would run most of the day from the base at Bangor to downtown Bremerton — just 2 blocks from the ferry terminal. Families lived on base at Bangor, there were stores, theatre, a bowling alley, a small town. I tell you this so you will know how I got around and where 1 found my victims. By this time I had discovered that I could insert a straight pin into my penis without hurting myself. The movie Rocky was playing at the downtown Bremerton Theatre. I saw the movie several times. During the movie, I would follow boys into the restroom. When they had done what they had to do, I'd ask if they wanted to see a trick. They usually wanted to know what and I told them what I could do. A couple showed interest, but didn't want to try it themselves. Others just wanted to get back to the movie or just get away from me (none appeared to be scared), but they followed me into a stall to watch me "put the pen in my dick." Then I let them go. (Sorry for the language, but that's how I talked to the boys.) I probably showed that trick to 7 or boys, aged 6-10. I went from using straight pins to using the ink filler of ball-point pens — 1 would insert the entire filler into my penis — about 4-414 inches in. The reason 1 showed the boys this trick was that I felt they'd be fairly comfortable just watching. If they wanted to watch, I'd ask if they wanted to try it. Of course, the pen would only go in an erect penis, so 1 would offer to help them get an erection "by sucking on it." None ever wanted to try it, and I never forced them. As before, I took "no" as an answer — there was less chance of being reported that way and I could always find another who was more willing to cooperate. One day, on the ferry back from Seattle back to Bremerton, I noticed a boy get on the ferry alone — he was about 9 yrs. old. I had 55 minutes to become his friend, and found out his dad was in the Navy and had duty that weekend. It was about 1 p.m. Saturday, the boy would be alone all weekend. My ideas sounded fun, so he decided to spend the day with me. Half way through the ferry ride I asked if he wanted to see a trick (pen in my penis). He didn't, but when I said I'd pay him $5.00 to watch, he agreed. The restroom on the ferry was pretty busy. We decided since we were going to a restaurant for lunch, to wait and do it in the restroom. I had the boy take my pen apart (so he'd know it was real) while I gave myself an erection. I pushed the pen in, and took it out again. I asked if he wanted to try it. He said he was afraid he'd hurt me. (He misunderstood — I wanted to put it in his penis if it would fit — but I played along). I said I'd push it in and he could pull it out — that way he wouldn't "have to worry about poking me on the inside." (This was my version of a sword swallower.) He agreed and started to pull it out. 1 suggested he hold my penis steady with his other hand. He looked at me and I said, "It's OK, I won't tell anyone." He did as I suggested. I asked if he wanted to do it to himself — he was afraid of hurting himself, but he'd let me put it into him for another $5.00, if 1 was very careful. I told him to "rub it to make it big like mine." After a few seconds, he said it wasn't working. (Good, I had HOPED he'd need help with that part — that's why I had given him money to watch me — hoping I could molest him). I told him how I could "get it big pretty fast," and he agreed, saying he wanted the money. I sucked on his penis until he had an erection. Without trying to penetrate I could see the pen would not go into his penis. He sighed and started to pull his pants up, saying, "I guess I don't get the money." That kid really wanted money — I thought that was great! I said I'd still pay him if he let me "suck on it." He agreed, and I told him to tell me when to stop, and started the stopwatch on my watch. When I had molested kids before, I just held their penis in my mouth or sucked for a few seconds. But for the first time, I started moving my mouth up and down on his penis and rubbed his butt with my hands. When he finally said, "I think I've had enough now," nearly 3 minutes had passed. I bought him lunch, took him to an arcade, then to a movie. I wanted to molest him again, but he said he didn't need any more money. I had learned that the boy spent a lot of time in the arcade we went to. A week later, I was walking around that part of town hoping to find him or another boy that might want to see a trick. I decided to walk up into the nearby residential area (in Bremerton) and see if there were any parks. There was a dentist office overlooking Puget Sound, but there was a steep bank and many trees and bushes between the office and the water. Up a hill, one block away, I saw a boy about 4 years old, riding a tricycle. I went up the hill, and when I got to the corner where I'd seen him, he was halfway down another street. He turned around in a yard as I walked down the street, then he rode past me. I walked past his house and saw 2 men and a woman in the backyard, with a 3 yr. old boy. I walked around the block, and got back to that first corner about the same time as the 4 yr. old did. I said, "Hi," and asked if he'd like to make some money. (Calendar wise, it's April of 1981 — 1 was 20, and it was a warm spring day.) "Money?" I said, "Yeah — I'll give you some money if you go down the street and do something for me." He agreed, but then his 3 yr. old brother came up to us. We tried to get him to go home, but I wanted to get away from there before someone saw us, so I let him come. I took the boys down behind the dentist office (which was closed for the day). I told the 4 yr. old I'd give him money if he pulled his pants down. He was very willing. I couldn't believe I kept finding so many willing kids. I was really a lucky guy. He pulled his pants down and sat in the sand and started to pull his pants all the way off. (I had always had them pull the pants down, but not all the way off, so they could dress fast if someone came). I hadn't seen a boy totally nude since M—. I said, "No, just pull them down some." He made a funny face like I wasn't making sense, so I said, "Well, if we're going to take them off, let's do it right." Staring at his genitals I pulled off his shoes and socks, then his pants and underwear were pulled off, then his shirt. I was a bit nervous, this was the first time I had a boy totally nude outside, but I didn't expect anyone to be around. I asked, "Can I touch the thing you pee out of?" He said, "Yes," and lay back in the sand. I started to masturbate him. Now, normally a boy would just quietly let me do what I wanted. It was just something they put up with. A few thought it was OK, others got real quiet, but they answered yes to my questions about touching or putting my mouth on it. NEVER had ANY boy said what this boy said next. This 4 yr. old boy TOLD me "Put your mouth on it." I couldn't believe it! I sucked until he was erect, and he wanted to know why it didn't "feel like when A— does it?" So that was it — he had been molested before. He let me do oral on him about one minute, and 1 stopped. His little brother was getting restless. I dressed the boy and he agreed to wait while 1 took his brother back up the hill. When I returned, I again undressed the boy and did oral on him. He then watched as I pulled my pants down and put a pen into my penis. He said I could try it on him. I knew it wouldn't fit in him since it wouldn't go into the 9 yr. old, but it was an excuse to suck his penis some more "to make it big." There was one more thing I wanted the boy to do, but I had him away from home nearly a half hour, so I'd have to be ready to move fast. I put his shirt back on and put his pants back on, pulling them part way up. He lay in the sand while I fondled his genitals and asked if he would put his mouth on my "pee-pee." I said I'd give him "two whole dollars if you put your mouth on it for two minutes." I sucked on his penis for 2 minutes to show him how long it was. He agreed. With his pants around his knees he sat up, legs straight in front of him. I strad¬dled his legs, down on my knees, facing him. I was going to reach down and play with his genitals while he sucked on my penis. I was more excited than I had ever been. It was the first time a boy was going to suck on my penis. Just as I started to unzip my pants, a man yelled the boy's name, the boy yelled, "Dad." I jumped up, helped the boy get his pants up, handed him his shoes, and he started in the direction we heard his dad. I ran the other direction — I was not caught. I forgot the fact that the boy had been molested before, and that it was probably just a game to him. All I thought about was that if one boy was so willing to be molested, there must be others. I started looking for kids more often, hoping to find another like that boy. Another thing also happened that day. Basically, I was always looking for the oldest boys I could find, yet be sure they had no pubic hair. But I also wanted a boy that could get an erection and I had guessed he'd have to be at least nine, the age I can remember having an erection. But, I had learned, from molesting M— when he was eight, that younger kids could also get erections. Also, I wanted something in my mouth, and I thought younger kids' genitals would be just too small. My "target age" was 7-10 years old. BUT — this 4 year old was so willing, he did get an erection, and it did satisfy me. After molesting that 4 yr. old behind the dentist office I concluded: 1) Younger kids were more cooperative than older kids. 2) Younger kids were just as satisfying. 3) I was more determined than ever to find boys to molest. Perhaps I could find one to have repeated contacts with. 4) And now, I had more boys to choose from — 4 to 10 yr olds — nearly twice the "selection" I had allowed myself before. I found 4 boys (8-9 yrs. old) in Seattle and offered them $50.00 each to go to a motel with me to play strip poker. (Hopefully when one was nude, I could get him to do more.) They declined, and I was arrested within minutes. I bailed out of jail, and when I returned for court a few days later I learned the charges had been dropped (I had admitted to police I wanted to molest the boys). (I had told my division officer on the sub I had to appear in court for a traffic violation so he would give me the day off — I was allowed to trade and take another guy's night watch). On the base at Bangor, in the arcade at the bowling alley, I noticed a five year old begging an older boy for quarters. "Sure, he'd like to make some money," he went into the restroom with me. I masturbated him — one quarter. He masturbated me to make me erect and watch my trick — two more quarters. Then I did something I'd never done before — I put a finger into his anus, and he did it to me. He said, "It stinks." Two more quarters. I had spent about 10 minutes with him. One day in early summer (1982), I offered money to two boys on the base. I'd pay so much for each sex act they'd let me do to them, and double the pay for each one they did to me. I was reported, and arrested by base security the next day. I was pulled off submarine duty and assigned to squadron command. Nothing else was said. I hated my duty and started taking unauthorized absences — never gone long enough for AWOL. Finally, they gave me a general discharge. While on leave earlier in the spring, I had attempted to molest a 9 yr. old in my hometown (Richland — which is part of the Tri Cities, in Benton County). I didn't know I had been identified. When I was discharged, my duty chief warned me not to go back to Richland because they had a warrant for my arrest. I didn't go to Richland but I did go to Benton County. After being home for two weeks, I showed a boy my trick and had almost talked him into trying it (if I just watched and didn't touch) when the boy's friend brought his dad. I left. That night I was stopped for having a taillight out. The small town department's computer was down, and the officer let me go. The next day, as I was going to buy a new taillight, I was stopped again and arrested at gun point. When their computer came back on line, they found out Richland had a warrant for my arrest — and SO did they. The dad had reported my license number. 1 confessed to both charges and in a plea-bargain, 1 was convicted of one of them. Since my first contact with police years earlier, I had confessed to 10 different crimes, now I had confessed to two more and I was FINALLY prosecuted. I was convicted of one count of attempted indecent liberties. I was sentenced to just 40 days in jail, and 21 were SUSPENDED. NO PROBLEM! I hadn't found a job yet and still had a $2000.00 military paycheck in my pocket. Counseling was ordered. I moved to Lewiston, Idaho, entered counseling, then quit as soon as my counselor notified the court that I had entered his program. (I was on probation for one year). I found work and became friends with a single mother and her 9 yr. old son, H—. At first I wanted to molest H—, but never had him alone long enough, then I grew to really care about him, and didn't want to do anything that might destroy our friendship, and I didn't think he'd be another M—. Then his mother asked me to watch H— at their house for a weekend. On Saturday morning H— took a bath, but forgot to take a towel out of the hall closet first. He yelled and asked me to bring him one. I asked if I should leave it by the door or bring it in — he said bring it in. I set the towel on the toilet seat (looking at him in the tub the whole time.) and turned to leave. (I didn't want him to think I was trying to see too much — if I left he wouldn't think anything was wrong). He asked me to stay and keep him company, so I sat and talked while watching him. I said "You don't mind if I see you in the tub?" No — He had been taught not to be ashamed of his body. Well, if he didn't care if I SAW him, maybe I'd molest him after all. But he made me leave before he got out of the tub. I said, "Why? I saw it when you were in the tub, why not while you're drying off?" He made me leave. I decided I'd molest him that night after he went to sleep, and during the day I formulated a plan. On evenings when I visited, and before H— went to bed, he liked to sit next to me on the couch while I read comic books to him (he was 9 — I was 21, the time is March, 1983). When he was told to get ready for bed, he'd strip to his underwear and run around the house. So he was usually wearing just his underwear, leaning against me while I read. When it was time for bed he argued, he wanted to read the new comic book I'd bought that day. I made a deal with him. If he'd go ahead and get ready for bed, and give me a back rub, I'd let him stay up a while, it was already midnight. He ran to his room and came out in his underwear, carrying the book and sat on the couch. I took my shirt off and said, "Back rub first." He gave me the rub. I said it was hot, and asked if he cared if I took my pants off. I'd be in my underwear, just like him. He didn't mind. He sat up against me while I started reading. I asked if he'd like to sit on my lap, he did. At 1 a.m., I said it was bedtime. He wasn't tired. I told him to lay on the floor and I gave him a back rub, letting just my fingertips slide under the waistband of his shorts. I said, "OK, bedtime." He still wasn't tired. I'd ask if he'd go to bed if I gave him a super-duper rubdown. He asked what that was. (I had turned the heat up in the house knowing H— would sleep on top of his covers.) I told him I'd rub his back and legs and arms — everything not covered by his underwear, and that I'd put him to sleep that way. He liked that idea. He let me carry him to his room. He was up very late — we'd had a busy day. I knew he'd quickly fall into a deep sleep. I rubbed his back, arms and legs. I asked and he said I could rub his butt over his underwear. I put him on his back and did his chest and stomach, arms & legs, then back on his back. He started to relax. I started spending more time on his butt and legs. Going up his legs, I slid a hand under the leg of his underwear and asked if it was OK to "rub it that way." He said it was 'OK,' but not in the front. He let me pull his underwear down to his knees so I could do a better job on the big muscles in his legs, back and, of course, his butt. I was just taking him one step at a time. When he had relaxed again (he tensed up when I started rubbing his bare butt), I said "OK, you're almost done, let's turn you over. Let me do it, don't use your muscles, just relax. Want your underwear up before I turn you over?" He said 'yeah' and let me pull them up for him. I turned him over and positioned his arms and legs. I rubbed his chest and stomach, his thighs, then his groin area over his underwear. He didn't say anything. 1 spent sometime on his waist, thighs, and legs. He fell asleep and I left the room to calm down. I had conditioned his body, and had him exhausted after a long day. He never stirred as I pulled his underwear off and molested him in his sleep, sucking on his penis for several minutes. I left the room to calm down again (my heart was racing), took my underwear off, and went back in. I set H—'s hand on my penis and wrapped his fingers around it, and did oral on him again. I left and fell asleep on the couch. I woke up an hour later and went back to H—'s room. He had turned on to his stomach. I was afraid to turn him over, so I spread his legs and reached under his body, pulling his genitals back between his legs. I did oral on him that way. (I didn't know it until several months later, but H— had waken up at this point to discover my mouth on his penis). At that time, he stirred, so I stopped and covered him up. I did not put his underwear back on him. He didn't say anything in the morning when I woke him up, but he wouldn't get out of bed until I left the room. He acted as though nothing had happened. A week later, H— helped me move into an apartment in Clarkston, Washington. It was a different state, but still only a 15 minute drive to his house (I had been staying with my dad.). He spent the night with me. That night I pulled his underwear to his knees as he lay next to me in my bed, and molested him. I did oral for several minutes, then set his hand on my penis while I held his. I pulled his underwear back up. Again, I found out months later he had woken up. Even though he knew what I was doing, he still liked to spend almost every weekend with me. That was fine with his mother, she worked weekends, and liked to go out in the evenings. I probably molested H — in his sleep on about 15 different nights in a 6 or 7 month period. One evening he went jogging with me. I told him to take a hot bath so his muscles wouldn't get stiff. I was now 22 and he was 10. He let me help him out of the tub and put a towel around him and carry him into the living room, where I had set out some cushions to lay him on, so I could give him a super duper body rub. He let me pull off the towel to rub his butt. I let him hold the towel over himself when I rolled him over, but he later let me "get it out of the way." He let me rub his groin, but not his genitals. That was the closest I came to molesting him while he was wide awake. H— asked if his friend V— could stay with us the next day. He was 10. The next afternoon, we went swimming, we'd pick up V— at 5 p.m. H— and I went back to my place to change. We took off our wet clothes and changed in front of each other. H— was comfortable with that. Before he got his pants on I suggested a game to see how strong he was and how much he trusted me. I put the palm of my hand on his underwear, over his genitals, and lightly pressed in, pressing harder and harder. He said it didn't hurt. Then I put my hand in the front of his underwear and slowly moved it down. He could tell me to stop, but if he trusted me he wouldn't say anything. I moved my hand down against his groin, then lifted it and went over his genitals without touching them, then pulled my hand out. I asked if he thought I was going to touch it. He said he knew I wouldn't. He agreed to help me do the strength and trust games with V— later that night. Now I had two 10 yr. olds in my apartment. H— and V—. When it got late and I suggested bed, there was, of course, argument. The boys wanted to stay up. (So did I!) I said they could stay up and suggested a wrestling match, in our underwear, we were all guys, besides, underwear was like shorts anyway. I knew H~- would agree and when V— saw H— and I stripping down to our underwear, he did too. We wrestled for a while, then I told V— about the strength/trust game I played with H— and he watched while I did it to H—. Again, I did not touch H—'s genitals. V— lay down and I did the strength test on him. For some reason, I wasn't worried about what either boy would say or do when I made the next move. On the trust test, instead of pulling my hand out of V—'s underwear, I grabbed his penis and masturbated him for a couple seconds, then set my palm on his genitals and said "How about that?" His answer was a little surprising, "So?" I said, "Come here" and took him into my bedroom. I told H— he could come in if he wanted, but he decided to watch T. V. I had V— take his underwear off and lay on the bed while I took my underwear off. I masturbated him and did oral on him. I had him masturbate me for a minute. Then I suggested we masturbate at the same time. Then I had an idea. I would masturbate him at the same time he did me. He said, "Yeah, you do it better, anyway." He was being very cooperative, but he wasn't exactly thrilled. Then I had a thought I had never had before. H— had tried to butt-fuck me that one time, but I'd never tried to do it to a boy. When I asked V—, "Can I butt fuck you?," he said, "Why not? My brother always does." So — that explained the way he was acting. He didn't like it, but being molested and raped was a fact of life for him. I walked through the living room to the bathroom for a roll of toilet paper. H—, seeing me nude, asked what we were doing. I said, "Come see." He declined. I positioned V— and pushed my penis into his butt. He let out a little grunt. I asked if it hurt. He said, "A little bit." I asked if wanted me to pull it out. He said, "It's OK." But I pulled it out anyway — I didn't want to hurt him. He seemed relieved. I cleaned up and had him masturbate until I was near climax, then I finished while he watched. He said he'd seen his brother do it. That night, after the boys fell asleep, I had what I thought was a real treat. As they slept, both in bed with me, one on each side, I pulled their underwear down, and molested both at the same time, doing oral on one while fondling the other, then switching. If one got restless, I'd molest just the other. I decided to see how long I could suck on a boy's penis without stopping. For over an hour I would hold one boy's penis in my mouth for 5 minutes, then switch to the other. Then I just lay there, one boy's hand on my penis, the other boy's hand on my testicles, while I fondled them both at the same time. I thought I was in heaven. When I was done, I pulled their underwear back up. On another night when I had both boys, I woke V— up and made him masturbate me to climax. On one night, V— was staying at H—'s house and I was baby-sitting him there. V— slept on the couch. I was unable to molest H — that night, so I went after V—. He had his jeans on, was on his back but was leaning up against the arm rest. I unsnapped his pants, and happily noted he had no underwear on. I pulled his pants down enough to do oral on him, then had a new idea. I was going to put my penis between his legs and rub it — a "new way of masturbation." (I was going to simulate intercourse). I pulled down the front of my pants and lay down on top of him, but was unable to get my penis into his crotch because of the angle he was at. I gave up, not knowing when H—'s mom would come home. In all, I molested H— about 15 times, and attempted to molest him in his sleep at least 20 times, but he woke up. I remember just the 3 contacts with V—, but there could have been 2 or 3 others when I molested him in his sleep as I did H—. When H— finally reported me, he only mentioned that first night at his house and the first night at my apartment, one in each state. He never mentioned the body rubs I gave him while he was nude or that he had watched me masturbate 4 or 5 times. Now, I had to go back to Benton County, my year of probation was over and it was time for a review hearing. I had failed to continue counseling, so 1 did another 21 days in jail. H—'s mom found out about my past, and I couldn't see H— anymore. H— started having problems and was taken to a counselor where he finally said what 1 had done to him, once in Idaho, and once in Washington. (He never told police he knew what I had done to V—, either). I confessed to police in both states, Washington was going to let Idaho have me first, since that's where the boy lived. In August, 1988, just after my 23rd birthday, I was sentenced to 10 years in an Idaho prison. As I write this, 1 should be in an Idaho prison, 8 years into my sentence, and looking forward to being extradited to Washington to face charges for molesting H— here. BUT, the Idaho judge said 10 years, but he was commuting the sentence to ONE year in the county jail, because I had already entered counseling (he didn't know I was under court order from Benton County to get that counseling). They thought I was doing well, and I was released from jail after just 4 months. Yes — RELEASED. I had outstanding charges over in Washington, but the prosecutor screwed up. There was no request for extradition (the jail in Idaho, and the jail in Washington were only 3 or 4 miles apart.), and there was no arrest warrant. There were charges against me, but apparently the prosecutor lost my file. To this day, there are still outstanding charges against me from molesting H— in 1984 — charges that would have sent me to prison for AT LEAST 10 years. (If that prosecutor hadn't lost my file, I'd have been in prison when 3 little boys were killed.) I had one year of probation in Idaho. I found an apartment in Lewiston, and was under order to have no contact with children. I looked for boys anyway, but couldn't find any. In the summer of 1985, at age 23, I had gone over a year without molesting, I was going crazy. Then a co-worker, a single mother, wanted to go out one night, but couldn't find a baby-sitter. I volunteered to watch her 3 yr. old daughter and especially her 6 yr. old son, B —. When I arrived, I was asked to also watch two other girls, aged 4 and 8. No problem! After they fell asleep, I attempted to molest each one of them, but each stirred as I tried to pull their underpants down (none wore pajamas — just underpants and T-shirts, B— wore no shirt, just underwear). I was afraid of waking them, so I did not molest anyone that night. B— wanted me to come to his 7th birthday party near the end of June, but I had to work. I talked to his mom about giving B— a present. I told her that I had planned on going on a fishing trip for my birthday, which was July 3rd. I offered to take B— along on the trip I was off from work on the 2nd, 3rd, & 4th. I'd have B— home in time for fireworks. She thought B— would love it. He did. Camping would be B—'s present, he would be mine. I would molest him as he slept, exactly as I had done to Q—. (And, yes, I was still on probation and in "therapy," but no one would ever know!) We loaded up and took off. I drove up into the mountains to a series of small lakes along a stream. The lakes were stocked, so I knew B— could catch fish. I also knew it was a large area that very few people visited. I knew we could be at least a mile away from other campers. B— had a blast. The first night, I asked him if he wanted to sleep in his own sleeping bag, or put them together to make one big sleeping bag so he could sleep with me. I would still be able to do what I wanted if he was in a separate bag, but would prefer if he wanted to sleep with me, and he did. We put the sleeping bags together in the back of my station wagon, and since we didn't need the extra blankets I had brought, we hung them up to make a "tent." All day long, B— had been copying me. When it was hot and I took my shirt off, he did too. When we ate, he took bites only when I did. He was my shadow and thought it was quite funny. I thought it was very convenient. He said he wanted to be just like me and I wondered how far 1 could push that. He was afraid to go into the outhouse alone, so I had seen his genitals and he had seen mine. At one point, he had "peeked" over and I asked what he was looking at. He said nothing, and I said it was OK, that when I was his age, I wondered "what a man's looked like" too. I stripped to my underwear and he took his pants off. He had no underwear on, which I hadn't noticed in the outhouse. I asked him about it and he said he didn't have any clean ones, and that he went without underwear all the time. I thought that was great — I wouldn't have to mess with taking his underwear off before molesting him. He was going to wear just his shirt to bed. I asked if he wanted one of my T-shirts, it would cover more of him and keep him warmer. He took his shirt off and put mine on. He wanted to wrestle (his idea) — I just wanted him to go to sleep, but we wrestled for a few minutes. At one point, I said, "I see your weeny." He said, "So, we're both boys." WE started getting into the sleeping bag, and I said, "I have an idea, you've been trying to be just like me all day, so why don't I take my underwear off and just wear a T-shirt?" It was OK with him. He was on his back when he fell asleep. All I had to do was pull up the front of his shirt and I did oral on him several times through the night or just laid there with his hand resting on my penis. He never knew what I had done. The next night was my birthday. I was now 24, and I was going to stay awake with B— all night (while he slept), and molest him just as much as I could. That night he wore his pants to bed and I wore just my underwear. When he was asleep, I pulled my underwear off. Then I unsnapped and unzipped his pants and pulled down the front enough to molest him. At one point, he turned over so I pulled the back of his pants down and rubbed his butt while his hand was on my penis. I decided to turn him over. He mumbled and I said I was just putting him back on his side (he had warned me that he hogged the bed, so I used that). I did oral on him again, then I had an idea — B— was going to be the best birthday present ever. I pulled his pants down to his ankles (remember — I was already nude, and B— had no shirt on this time). I knelt down over his legs, on my hands and knees, and did oral on him. Then I lowered myself down and forward onto him, my stomach against his, but not putting my weight on him, and I put my penis into his crotch. 1 just laid there. I wanted his body to become accustomed to that touch before I started moving up and down. I knew I wouldn't want to do more to him after I climaxed, so I pulled back to do oral on him one more time. Then he turned over. I waited a couple minutes, then put my penis between his legs from behind, in his crotch, and moved his legs together. I knew of anal and vaginal intercourse — I felt I had just invented what I called "crotch intercourse." For the first time, I simulated intercourse and climaxed. B— had also warned me that he occasionally pee'd the bed, so I didn't worry about leaving him there, laying in my semen. In fact, after I climaxed I didn't move for a while — my penis still in his crotch, pressing into his genitals. He pee'd! I figured warm "liquid" on his genitals caused him to pee. I knew he had not woken up or if he did, he didn't remember what I had done. He acted as if everything was OK, and I carefully questioned him, and asked if he "had woken up or if 1 was on top of him, because I HAD a weird dream." He said he didn't. A few weeks later, on a one-day fishing trip, I finally talked B— into watching me masturbate. He didn't want to do it, but 1 told him to pull his pants down and I started to masturbate him, but stopped. He did not LIKE what was happening. I knew then that B— had not woken up those two nights on our camping trips. I never got another chance to be alone with B— at night. A few weeks later I moved back to Benton County, and drove back to Idaho once a week for therapy. I wasn't serious about therapy but it kept me out of jail. I had picked an apartment complex with lots of children, hoping to become friends with at least one of them. Moving in, I was putting some items in a storage shed, on the back patio, and heard what I thought was a kid in the bushes around the corner. I peeked around the corner and saw a boy (who I later learned was 4 year old U—), his back to me and a 2-3 yr old girl in front of him. The boy had his shorts and underwear around his knees. I couldn't believe it. One day and I had already found a boy to molest and hoped to do so many times. As I watched he pulled his shorts up, then tried to undo the buttons on the girl's coveralls, but he couldn't and gave up. He turned around and jumped when he saw me. I said, "Hi. What's your name?," in a friendly voice. He said, "U—" I said I saw what he did and he ran to his apartment — he was my next door neighbor! Great! I wanted to get to know him and his family. I went to his apartment and was invited in. U—'s mom, L—, was a single mother. She had U—, age 4, and I—, almost 2. A live-in boyfriend worked out of town, home only on weekends. She invited me to stay for lunch. I told her what I'd seen her son do, her reply was that just about everyone in the complex had caught him. Right then I knew that U— liked to expose himself and that he got scolded for doing so. I figured he would let me molest him, and he would not report it. I immediately became friends with L—, and after lunch she came over to help me unpack. I took care to pay attention to U— and when he lost his shyness, we were good buddies. He liked the idea that I had a fish tank and a "piano" (it was a small chord organ). The next morning, as I was putting the kitchen in order, U— knocked on the sliding door in the dining room. He wanted to see the fish tank, so I let him in. He left after a few minutes. I was trying to figure out how to "get into his pants." Again L— had me over for lunch. She liked to talk. She was stuck in the house with I—, and U— liked to run free. I said I could help her keep an eye on U— if she wanted. She said it would be a big help. I told her U— liked to come to my place to watch the fish, did she mind? No, U— was always going in other people's houses (of, course, other people had kids). Now I knew I could have U— alone in my apartment and no one would worry about it. I thanked L~ for lunch, saying I had to finish unpacking. U— wanted to come. I said, "Oh, 1 don't know." L— said, "Take him. He likes you so he'll be a good helper." U— was a good helper, as long as I wanted his help. We took a break and he asked where my piano was. I told him it was in my bedroom because I didn't have room for it in the living room. I asked, "Want me to show you how to play it?" "Yeah!!" On just my second day in the apartment, I had a 4 yr. old boy in my bedroom. He was wearing one of those half-length T-shirts that leaves the tummy exposed and a pair of cotton shorts, which I was to learn was his favorite pants. I had noticed, when he was sitting down that I could see his genitals — he had no underwear on under his shorts, and I also later learned that he almost never wore underwear when he had shorts on. There's nothing wrong with that but IT sure made it easier for me. So — shorts and a short T-shirt. He was showing skin, but left plenty to my imagination. To me he looked "sexy" dressed that way, and I loved it when he wore those clothes. I pulled out the bench under the organ and asked if he wanted to sit on my lap so he could reach it better — he did. I put my arms around him as he started "playing the piano." 1 had the palm of my right hand flat against his bare stomach — innocent enough — and when asked he said my hand was OK like that. With my fingertips under the waist band of his shorts my hand was still OK. "Can I put my hand further down?" Yes. "It's OK if I touch it?" Yes. He kept playing the "piano" while I fondled his genitals, hand inside his shorts. I asked if he'd lay on the bed and pull his shorts down so I could "feel it better." He agreed. "Can I put my mouth on it?" Yes. He got an erection. "Does it feel good?" Yes, and yes I could do it some more. I asked which way he liked it best, when I just sucked on it, when I moved my head up and down on it, or when 1 rolled it around in my mouth with my tongue. He said moving it with my tongue felt best. Over the next 4 months, I performed oral sex on U— nearly every day, sometimes twice a day. He asked me to "do that game on the bed" almost as often as I asked him. But he would never let me do more and I could never take his clothes off, just pull his pants to his knees. My probation and therapy in Lewiston ended during this time. On 3 occasions I made U— take all his clothes off, and 1 stripped as well. Twice I tried to simulate intercourse, but he would stop me after just a few seconds. The other time I put a finger into his butt. On these 3 occasions, U— told his mom, but he never told her about our almost daily games. The first two times, I was told not to do it again. The second time, I was also told I couldn't be alone with U— any more — I baby-sat him the next day. [I still had outstanding charges for molesting H—, too, but no arrest warrant. So now, in the period of two years, I had gotten away with known felony crimes. I was a very happy person!] The 3rd time, a neighbor found out and called police. L— didn't want U— involved and refused to press charges. I was never even questioned by police, since it wasn't likely they'd get a conviction without U—'s testimony. If they had bothered to investigate at all, they would have seen that I had always confessed to police, I plea-bargained one case and plead guilty in the other — I had been convicted twice and no child had to testify. If the police had bothered to question me, I'd have plead guilty and gone to prison. Instead, they completely ignored a known child molester who had been reported for 3 new crimes. Since the neighbors now knew about me, I moved to Seattle — on Halloween, 1986.1 had been molesting U— since mid-summer. The first time I tried to have "crotch intercourse" with him was on my 25th birthday. During the period I was molesting U—, while baby-sitting him and 1 — (the one who just turned 2), I also molested I—. He was being potty trained but still wore diapers most of the time. One day, U— was outside when I changed I—'s diaper. Well, he can't talk, so after cleaning him up I masturbated him. Now I knew even babies could get erections when they were physically stimulated. Then I did oral on I— I quickly checked to see if U— was still outside, and took my clothes off. I tried to get 1— to take my penis in his mouth, hoping he'd suck on it like his bottle, but he wouldn't. He did lay quietly while I rubbed my penis in his crotch until I climaxed. Later that day, I showed U— that I put my mouth on I—'s "weener" too. I talked U — into doing it to I--, then to me, for a few seconds. On another occasion U — had brought his 6 yr. old friend into my apartment. The boy saw a pocketknife on my dresser and asked if he could have it. I said he could if he did 3 things first. 1) I put the knife in my underwear and said he had to put his hand in my underwear and get it out. He didn't even hesitate, putting his hand in the front of my pants and getting the knife. 2) He had to rub my penis, which he did for a few seconds while looking in a different direction — he didn't like it, but he wanted the knife and probably also thought he HAD to do that anyway, whether I gave him the knife or not. 3) I told him to pull his pants down so I could rub his. He drew the line there — said I could keep the dumb knife. I gave it to him anyway. Now, I moved to Seattle on October 31, 1986, at age 25. Having gotten away twice in a row with reported crimes, I felt invincible. I had now molested 30 children all total by this time. (I have not listed them all here — I'm just giving the ones I progressed to something a little more serious each time). Of those 30,1— was the only one I did not have [sort of] oral-genital contact with. Of those 30 I molested, I was reported for only 3 — I—, H--, and U—. Only 2 (H— & U—) were reported to police, and out of 30 children molested, I was prosecuted and jailed for one crime against H—. JAIL for 1 in 30 — I liked the odds. I had ATTEMPTED to molest at least 20 others. I was reported 10 times and jailed only once. Jail 1 in 10 times for attempts — I was better off if, instead of attempts, I forced the kids and molested them anyway. Attempts were reported much more often than actual molestations. (By this time I had exposed myself to nearly 50 — only ONE reported it). By the time I got to Seattle, I had nearly 100 victims of various crimes. Q— was molested several times. U— and H— were molested several times. V— was molested at least 3 times. M— alone was molested at least 100 times. I still have one more repeat victim to tell you about, but you now see why I said 250 crimes against nearly 100 children. It could very well be closer to 300 crimes. Now, when I got to Seattle I had learned I was LESS LIKELY to be reported for a molestation than for an attempt. I decided that from now on I would be a little more forceful. I would no longer accept NO as an answer to my requests. Before long, I had a roommate with a 2 yr. old son who was still in diapers and couldn't talk. D— was a bright little boy, but was hard of hearing and as a result could not pick up normal conversation, he hadn't learned to talk at all. D—'s dad wanted to go out with friends on December 31, 1986 — New Years Eve, but couldn't find a babysitter. I had 3 days to make arrangements. I traded shifts at work and told my room-mate, the father, I would be off that night and would be happy to save him baby-sitter fees. When alone with D—, I waited until his diaper needed changing (he had just turned 2 just 2 weeks earlier). He lay quietly while I masturbated him, but started screaming and crying and pulled away when I tried to do oral on him. Again he lay quietly while I masturbated him, and fought when I tried to do more. 1 gave up and put a diaper on him. Just before he fell asleep I put another diaper on him, leaving it loose. When he was asleep I stripped and started taking his diaper off — he woke up. I tried to do oral on him, but he was struggling too much. I put a towel on my bed and lay D— down — his butt on the towel. I tried to put my penis between his legs, but he was fighting too much, so I stopped and he crawled away. The struggle had me VERY excited. I had the strongest erection I had ever had. I said "No — we're going to do it, like it or not," and pulled D— back to the towel. He turned onto his stomach and crossed his legs. By the time I got my penis into his crotch, after just a few seconds of struggle, I had climaxed. A couple of months later I was alone with D— again. I took his diaper off and he decided, as he often did, to run around a bit before getting a new diaper on. While he played, I pulled my pants down. He tried to run, but I caught him. He started to crawl onto the bed where I pinned him. His stomach on the bed, his feet on the floor, he struggled while my penis was in his crotch. I didn't have to move, his struggling caused my penis to move around in his crotch and again I climaxed very quickly. A third time I got smart. While he was in the bathtub, I put the belt of my bathrobe around the head board of my bed. I was in my underwear when I took D— out of the tub and dried him. I lay him on my bed and tied the ends of the bathrobe belt around his wrists. He was puzzled, but didn't resist. Once he was tied up I took off my underwear. He again struggled but he was much easier to control. I had now used physical force 3 times to molest a boy and the last time I had tied his hands. There was no penetration at all, but for the first time I considered it rape. After just 3 times with D—, they moved when his dad got laid off at work. It was April of 1987.1 would have to go looking for a child. [ALL THAT TIME WITH U-, THEN RAPING D-, I NOW NEEDED A BOY, DIDN'T HAVE ONE AVAILABLE.] I would hope the child would cooperate, but would force him if necessary. The idea of force was exciting. The more I thought about it, the more I wanted to do it. About the first of June I made plans. I was going to find a boy and if he was willing or not I was going to rape him. Whether it hurt or not, I was going to have anal sex with him. That might mean he may make noise. For the first time I used the word "kidnap." I would kidnap a boy and take him into the mountains where I could rape him all I wanted. But if I did all that, I'd have to make sure he wouldn't report me. No — I'd have to make sure he COULDN'T report me. For the first time, I considered murder. On June 13, 1987, 3 weeks before my 26th birthday, I had worked up enough "nerve" to try out my plans. I found a 6 yr. old, and asked if he wanted to help me find a lost boy. (Once we got to where the boy "was lost," he'd find out the real reason I had taken him). But he was smart — he ran back to his house, saying he'd get a toy for the boy to play with. I "confessed" to police, telling them WHAT I thought they'd believe, based on my record. I told them I wanted to take him into the empty building I had found him in front of, so I could molest him. I served 118 days in jail, was found Not Guilty of Attempted Kidnapping, but Guilty of Unlawful Detainment. ONE YEAR probation, counseling and NO CONTACT with children was ordered. D— and his dad came back in December that year — 2 months after my release from jail. I was 26, D— just turned 3 (on Dec. 14th). Due to work schedules, I was able to baby-sit D— every Friday night (to save his dad money). The first night with him we went grocery shopping when his dad left at 3:30 p.m. On the way home, knowing D— couldn't understand what I was saying (he could now name animals, but couldn't talk other than that — his hearing problem), I told him that later we were going to take our clothes off, that I was going to suck "your little pee-pee," and that I was going to rub mine between his legs, that we WERE going to do it, so he might as well just let me do it — "you might even like it." After dinner we wrestled and fought — D— loved to play/fight. I finally "gave up." D— was happy — he had "beat me up" again. I sat on the couch — I had all the drapes closed. D— started watching TV. He could understand certain things, like "put it in the garbage," or "come here," if you spoke loudly. I unzipped my pants and pulled my penis out through the fly, then put a pillow on my lap. I called D— over, then moved the pillow. I started "petting" my penis and said "See — it won't hurt you." He let me take his hand and move it over my penis. I said "Oh yeah — that's good!" He grinned, and I wondered how long it would be before he started screaming, like he had the last 3 times. When he grinned, I unsnapped my pants and pulled down the front — completely exposing my genitals — not just part of my penis. I "petted" it again and D— voluntarily petted it — I didn't have to put his hand on it this time. I took him to my bedroom, pulled my pants down to my knees and let him "pet" my penis again, saying "See? Fun!" I said "Let's take our clothes off!" "Clothes off" he understood, and we both stripped. I couldn't believe it. D— really seemed to be enjoying himself. We were both nude, and had another of our play fights. I had bought film at the store earlier. D— let me put him in various poses and take Polaroid photos of him in the nude, then he'd run to grab the film as it ejected from the camera and watch it develop. We wrestled some more, and I couldn't believe he kept grabbing my penis and even trying to snuggle up to it. (I didn't understand it then and I still don't.) I had him lay on the bed and started to do oral on him. At that point I expected him to struggle and scream as he did before, but this time — yes it really happened this way — he tried to push himself further into my mouth. I was elated. For some reason 1 couldn't explain, D— was liking this sexual contact. I knew kids don't have sexual feelings, but he seemed to enjoy the contact. He stayed on his back while I simulated intercourse — it didn't seem to bother him at all. Three times that night, we went to my room and stripped. Each time he let me do oral on him and then simulate intercourse. I had never masturbated to climax 3 times in a 2-hour period before, but I climaxed 3 times with D— that night. Then my sister and brother-in-law came by. While they were there, D— started tugging on my hand, which indicated he needed something or wanted to show you something. He led me toward the bedroom. I couldn't believe it. 1 had led him in the other 3 times, but now HE was taking ME to the bedroom — surely he had to know what I'd DO to him in there. But, I had to tell him "later" which he understood — I couldn't rape him while we had company. (Any time I simulated intercourse, I considered it rape, even though there was no penetration). By the time my sister left, D— had gone to bed. That was OK — I'd have him every Friday night. (It didn't matter that I was on probation and in counseling.) His dad worked night shift — 7 p.m. to 5 a.m. On nights I couldn't baby-sit D— for free, his dad dropped him off at a 24 hr. Day Care on the way to work, then picked him up on the way home. They'd both go to sleep but D— would be wide awake by 7 a.m., at which time he would come wake me up and I'd give him breakfast and keep him quiet while his dad slept. One morning, D— stumbled into my room when I was already awake. Sometimes he'd lay on top of the covers next to me while waiting for me to get up. This time I moved to the center of my bed and held up the covers. D— crawled into bed with me. He wore 1-piece pajamas that zipped up from one foot up to the neck. I unzipped his pajamas part way, and D— finished, he knew what I wanted. D— tried to take his pajamas off, but I only wanted them unzipped enough to do the job — his dad was in the next room — I wanted to be able to just quickly zip up his pajamas if his dad woke up. I did oral on D—, then simulated intercourse pulling out of his crotch just in time and ejaculating into a wad of Kleenex. Now, I would molest/rape D— on Friday nights when I had him alone, AND on occasion while his dad was sleeping. In March of 1988, my probation officer found out D— was living with me. I was ordered to move, I passed a polygraph and the NO CONTACT WITH CHILDREN VIOLATION was not reported to the courts. I still managed to "have sex" with D— a few times and when my probation ended in October of 1988,1 was again living with D— and his dad and molested/raped D— every chance I got. I would always do oral on D— then simulate intercourse. On rare occasions when 1 was really aroused and just couldn't wait, I'd skip doing oral on him and go straight to the intercourse. That was not our "normal routine," and it would be days before he'd let me touch him again. I'm not saying he was mad at me for not doing oral on him, but he had become accustomed to doing things a certain way — the change made him uncomfortable, I think. I first raped D— when he had just turned 2. He was 4 1/2 the last time I had sex with him, which was in July of 1989. With D— as my "sex partner" for 2 1/2 years, I did not ACTIVELY look for other children. But in the last 3 months, when we moved to a trailer court out in the woods, I kept my eyes open for kids who may stray into the woods. If I saw one go into the woods alone, and felt I could follow unseen, then 1 would rape the boy (including anal intercourse) and kill him. I didn't want to hurt D—, but he was no longer enough to keep my mind from wandering to other thoughts. Once we moved to the trailer, I could only molest D— once every 2 or 3 weeks — it wasn't enough and the only way I could "get more" was to rape and kill. Author's Comment: Child molestation was Wes Dodd's life. As graphic and horrible as it is, it was reality to him. He once told me "When I die, when they kill me, there will be 10,000 more just like me to take my place . . . Don't ever forget that." I never have forgotten ... I don't believe I ever will. It haunts me still. - LS In August of 1979,1 moved to Vancouver. D— was no longer available to me. I didn't know any kids in Vancouver. My thoughts now were "I NEED a boy — I've GOT to find one." I had a psychological NEED and it was to kidnap, rape and murder. The more I thought about it, the more exciting the idea of murder sounded. I planned many ways to kill a boy. Then I started thinking of torture, castration, and even cannibalism (eating the boys genitals). On September 4, 1989, I found William (10) and Cole Neer (11). On October 29, 1989 I found Lee Iseli (age 4), he spent the night with me before dying. On November 6, 1989, I attempted to take a boy from a Vancouver theatre. He said "I'll tell the people" (meaning the workers in the lobby), so I left. I figured a way to prevent the next child from being able to call for help. On November 13, 1989, in a theatre restroom, I punched James Kirk in the stomach to knock the wind out of him so he couldn't yell for help, then carried him out of the theatre. He would have been my fourth murder victim and I had worked up enough nerve that I was going to have anal sex with him (something I couldn't do before — I was going to kill, but I still didn't have it in me to cause pain while they were still alive. I was also ready to try some of my methods of torture — I was going to hold this boy in the shower and cut his penis off, and have anal sex with him again as he bled to death. I had seen in the news that Earl Kenneth Shriner had just cut off a boy's penis and stabbed him, but the boy lived. (I was not copying Shriner — I had this thought before Shriner attacked that boy). But now I knew cutting off a penis may not cause a boy to bleed to death, so I'd give him an erection to get the blood flowing through it, and cut off just the head of his penis. When it stopped bleeding I'd cut off the rest. When that stopped and if he was alive, I'd take off one testicle then the other, finally stabbing him if necessary. I wanted the next boy to die slowly, and to have anal sex repeatedly while he died. I had become obsessed with those thoughts. BUT — even after I had knocked the wind out of James Kirk, he was able to yell for help and I was caught. That night I confessed to the Islei and the Neer murders. Thank God I was caught, after James the next one would have suffered even more before I LET him die. Thoughts of killing children have pretty much gone now, but then I haven't seen any children to help keep the fantasies alive. I do still occasionally fantasize about "making love" to a young boy. If I were ever released, I WOULD PROBABLY MOLEST again, and the old thought of rape and murder could then resurface. Turning me LOOSE would be like putting a recovering alcoholic in a liquor store. The temptation would be overwhelming. I hope this has shown you how I progressed from exposure to murder and what my thinking was. I'll tell you about my childhood in another letter (book?), but as I said before, there's not much to tell. Sincerely, Westley Dodd Part III Chronological Sexual History or a Pedophile

Author's Comment: For months I encouraged Wes to write down each and every detail that came to his mind. Every childhood memory, child he molested, places he worked, anything that mattered to him in life. It was terribly difficult and painful to read what he wrote. It was just as difficult to listen to him explain what he wrote when we discussed it. I was never sure how I could present all of this to the public. I agonized over it for months. Each word I read, each conversation we had changed my life. Each gruesome detail horrified me. I did not include some of the terrible things Wes did to his victims; I couldn't. I needed to main¬tain the integrity of the children as well as my own. At times, I wished I did not know as much as I did. Most of the time I am thankful that I do. How else can we know what to expect, when the monster comes out of the closet? - LS From Molesting to Sex Slaves and Cannibalism: The following is the complete sexual history of Westley Allan Dodd. This history begins in 1970 — I was barely 4 years old. Today's date: 4-16-92 My age: 30. My reasons for writing this history are to provide a complete, chronological account, not only of my known sex crimes, but also of all crimes previously unreported. I am including all information about my childhood that may or may not have been a contributing factor to my crimes. I am also including all relationships with women sexual or not. To supplement my memory, I have used arrest and conviction records, as well as the notes of probation officers and therapists to provide many EXACT dates. Because I can remember where I worked when certain things happened, a copy of my own resume helped me narrow down the dates of certain incidents. Likewise, the records of former landlords helped narrow down other dates. A friend giving me exact dates for certain events from her diary has helped me pinpoint other crimes or incidents. Because I worked eighteen different jobs in 10 years, and lived in even more places, those records have enabled me to give exact dates. A lot of incidents I can pinpoint to within a matter of weeks. Because of the way my crimes progressed, in cases where I am not sure a crime occurred, I can estimate to within a couple of months simply by the fact they occurred about the same time as similar crimes for which I do have dates. I have spent the last twenty months making notes every time I recalled another incident or crime. With these notes, the above mentioned records and my memory, I now write my complete sexual history, in chronological order. I include details of crimes, how I approached victims (and where), ages, my thoughts and feelings, victims' reactions, what I looked for and wanted, etc. It is my hope that police and mental health professionals can learn more about how a 13 year old boy who exposes himself can become a 28 year old child-killer. Please don't allow other children to "follow in my footsteps". Sincerely, Westley A. Dodd 1) WHEN: Sometime during my sister's infancy. Probably summer of 1965. WHERE: Kennewick (home). I was born July 3, 1961. My sister was born May 29, 1965. I can remember Mom breast feeding my sister, this must have been around the time of or shortly after my 4th birthday. Don't remember thoughts or feelings. 2) WHEN: Summer, 1970. WHERE: Yakima (cousin's house) Age: 8 or 9 (Don't remember if it was before or after my birthday). VICTIMS: No victims, Cousin and another boy my age (both 8 or 9) I was staying with my cousin while my brother and sister were getting tonsils out. Us three boys were in my cousin's room changing out of wet swim trunks. My cousin and other boy touched their penises together. I did it with my cousin. Don't remember conversation, thoughts, feelings, etc. I DO know I wasn't forced or talked into doing it. This was and has always been one of my favorite cousins. 3) WHEN: Summer, 1970. WHERE: Yakima (backyard swimming pool at home) AGE: 9 VICTIMS(S): None. While swimming alone in backyard wading pool, I pulled my swim trunks to my knees and crawled around the pool (about two feet deep) once. Believe I'd heard about "skinny dipping" and wanted to try it, but was afraid to take shorts all the way off. Remember my heart was pounding. 4) WHEN: Labor Day Weekend, 1970. WHERE: Bedroom at home (Yakima). AGE: 9. VICTIM(S): Me. Mom made me change pants two or three times in front of two aunts to show off new school clothes. I did NOT want aunts to see me in my underwear, stood behind bed hoping to hide myself while changing. Mom showed them the shirts, I didn't have to put them all on. Why couldn't she have showed them the pants the same way?! 1 wouldn't have cared taking my shirt off in front of aunts, but NOT my pants! 5)WHEN: Summer, or probably fall, 1970. WHERE: Bathroom at home (Yakima). AGE: 9 VICTIM(S): None. After a bath, I rubbed hand lotion all over my stomach, butt, thighs, groin, and genitals. Don't remember why I did it, but I felt a little nervous and maybe that caused a little excitement. What if Mom found out what parts of my body I'd put her hand lotion on? It could have been very embarrassing. I guess it was that small "element of danger" that made it exciting. 6)WHEN: Between Spring of 1969 and Spring of 1971. WHERE: Basement in Yakima home. AGE: 8 or 9. I can't say whether this happened before or after incident #2, only that it occurred sometime during the two-year period our family lived in Yakima. A room in the basement had been made a kid's playroom. One day, five or six of us, including a girl cousin, (probably my age or a year or two younger) were in the playroom. All I remember is thinking she was VERY pretty and I'd like to see her with no clothes on. I had NEVER before considered ANY girl as being pretty, nor had I ever wanted to see one naked like I did her. Both were new to me. Looking back, she is the ONLY one I'd ever thought that way about until I was in my twenties! In high school, I remember a cousin who was in the same class as me saying he'd like to play strip poker with our mutual cousin! I guess I always had a crush on her, so did the rest of my male cousins my age! Nothing ever happened, just thought I should write down what was very unusual thoughts for me at that age (wanted to see her naked, but I was still afraid of "GIRL GERMS"!) Don't know what I'd have done if I DID see her naked! 7) WHEN: Fall, 1971. WHERE: Neighbor's garage, Umatilla AGE: 10 VICTIM(S): None Y—, at age 6, was one of two girls next door to us. Somehow, Y— and 1, along with my sister (also age 6), ended up in Y—'s garage. Y— pulled her pants down so I could see "it." My sister also looked. Then I pulled my pants down. My sister looked. Y— wouldn't look, saying she'd "seen it before." Since Y— had obviously done this with other boys (she'd seen "it" before), she may have initiated it. Or, with my previous thoughts of wanting to see my cousin naked, it could have been me that suggested it. At any rate, we were all willing participants (sister looked at us both, but did not pull her pants down). I was disappointed that Y— wouldn't look at me. I now wonder if this is one of the subconscious reasons I later preferred boys. I had been "rejected" at age 10 by a girl! (There are reasons I AM AWARE OF as to why I preferred boys, but this MIGHT have been a hidden contributing factor.) (Y— was younger than me. Her sister was MY age, but I never did it with the sister.) My brother (age 9) somehow found out what we'd done and told Mom. I, of course, denied it. Mom said we shouldn't do that, "it's nasty." (She may have used the word "dirty" instead of nasty), and no more was said about it. (The usual child's denial here. Huh-uh! Besides, you weren't there, how did you know?!). 8) WHEN: Spring, 1972. WHERE: Jason Lee Elementary School, Richland. AGE: 10 VICTIM(S): None New school. Boys and girls had to change shoes in gym locker room for RE. class. I was aware of only one locker room. It had one shower stall. I wondered if some of the other RE. classes, boys and girls, stood in line naked waiting to take a shower. I was somewhat amused at the thought of all those kids standing close together in line naked and wondered what it would be like. I remember wondering about the naked bodies touching each other, and though 1 don't remember, I probably wondered what it would feel like for the front of my body to touch the back of someone else's. Nothing happened here, it was just a "sex-related" thought I had. It didn't bother me at all and I never thought about it again. NOTE: This ends my childhood experiences that might be considered normal curiosity and experimentation. 9) WHEN: 1972-73 school year. WHERE: Home in Richland. AGE: 11. VICTIM(S) No victims. Found a picture of a nude beach (?) in a nature magazine. Wished the photographer was closer to the beach and wished he had focused better. I remember "sneaking a peek" at that photo several times. It was very, uh, intriguing — It was captivating. For the first time, I was AWARE of an unusual interest. I did not think it was normal for me to be so interested in a photo of nude men and women. I remember feeling disappointed and searching the house one day when I couldn't find that magazine, but then I just forgot about it. NOTES: Again, incident *9 MAY have been normal curiosity for an 11 year old, but I KNEW it was not normal for me to be so interested in that photo. My interest in it MUST be hidden! I maintain that I was never sexually abused and I do not believe anything from my childhood CAUSED my crimes, which started just two years after incident *9. However, it seems that I had a CONTINUING INTEREST in the nudity of others and in MY own body from the age of nine on . .. (see incidents *3, 5, 6, 7, 8, and 9). I will also add at this point, though I don't feel it's relevant. My brother and I shared a bath (bathing together) until I was about seven years old (he's 11 months younger than I). We shared a bed until I was 10 (a double bed). We shared a bedroom until we left home. There was never any sexual contact between us (nor was there ever a desire for it). By the time I was eight or nine, I started wishing for some privacy, not wanting others in the bathroom at all while I was in the bathtub. By age 11,1 began demanding privacy, making sure no one would need medicine (Dad), or use the bathroom, (my brother and my sister) while I was in there. Up until age eight or so, it seems as though it was not unusual to have someone coming in for some reason during a bath — I walked in on my brother and my sister as well. When you gotta go, you gotta go! We always knocked and told the one in the tub to "close the shower curtain so I can come in," but by age 11, that curtain did not give me the privacy I wanted — I was naked, NO ONE in the room, curtain or not. 10) WHEN: 1973-74 School year WHERE: Chief Joseph Jr. High, Richland. AGE 12. VICTIM: In a way, me. New this year, showers in RE. class. I didn't like taking showers where everyone could see me. 1 didn't understand the locker room talk, what the guys said about their girlfriends or certain "kinds" of girls, nor did I understand their sex-related jokes. One day while waiting for an open shower, a guy said I could share his, everyone laughed, I didn't understand why. Also, I was NOT athletic, couldn't do a pull-up, no good at ANY kind of sport or RE. activity. That set me apart from most of the other guys. I was different. Not like them. This same year (still age 12), the girls started teasing me. They knew I was embarrassed easily, they'd say "you're so clean cut and handsome" in voices imitating a passionate kind of conversation. I didn't know what it meant, it was embarrassing, a very unpleasant situation. They also knew I got D's in Health Class. One day after some whispering, a girl told me my epidermis was showing. I got to the bathroom as soon as I could to check and make sure my pants was zipped up! 11) WHEN: 1973-74 School year. WHERE: Home in Richland. AGE 12. VICTIM: Me (Victim of cruel sex-related teasing). One day after school, I was watching TV. — Gilligan's Island, Brady Bunch or a similar sit-com. Then, just for a second, there were pictures of someone's chest being painted. I thought that was pretty weird. I didn't know for sure what I had seen but before I could take a second look the regular TV show was back on. The next day, my only friend (he was my age) in the world, from my 7th grade homeroom class, was at my house. Dad was reading the newspaper — a headline story said that the day before, a TV studio operator was watching an X-rated (or pornographic — I don't remember what the paper said it was) movie on studio equipment. He hit a wrong switch and accidentally aired a second or two of the porn movie, showing a woman's chest being painted with body paints. Dad asked if I or my friend had seen it. I said I had but had thought it was a man. Dad seemed to take great pleasure, in front of my friend, teasing me about not knowing the difference between a man and a woman. I DID know the difference, but at age 12, I didn't know such movies existed and certainly wouldn't expect to see partially nude women (she had her pants on) during the Brady Bunch! She was flat on a table — whatever she had for breasts must have been pulled flat. In the brief second I saw it (as I was changing channels), it just didn't occur to me it could have been a woman. Dad really gave me a bad time in front of my friend. 12) WHEN 1973-74 School year. WHERE: Friend's house in Richland AGE: 12 VICTIM(S): None I was spending the night at my friend's house (same friend as mentioned in #11). He came out of the bathroom saying "whatever you do, don't go in there, there's a big one"! Of course, I was then obligated to go see how big his turd was — if he didn't want me to see it, why did he tell me about it and why didn't he flush!? No big deal — boys will be boys, I just flushed it for him. But, conversation about the size of the turd may have been a contributing factor to something I started doing to myself a few years later. My friend's step-dad had medical problems and had to use a catheter to urinate. My friend did his best to explain the procedure — shoving a tube into his penis. I believe that having had this procedure described to me, and my own curiosity, this could be why I later started pushing straight pins and then the filler of ink pens into my own penis. I had learned that things could be put into the penis. I had learned that things could be put into the penis, so when I started experimenting with my body that is something I tried. I later used this to show a "trick" to potential molest victims. I told them I could do tricks "kind of like a sword swallower." More on that later. 13) WHEN: 72-73 & 73-74 School year (6th & 7th grade) WHERE: School AGE: 11-12. I remember taking a special interest in film clips I saw in history classes and going to the library to check out to view on special machines in the school library. The film clips I was interested in were the ones about Nazi concentration camps. I was looking for ANY¬THING with nudity — those film clips showed men, women and children nude — before and after death. As long as 1 saw nude people, it didn't matter if they were alive or not. Polish people in line — nude — waiting for a shower that was actually a gas chamber — nude bodies of men, women, and kids being dumped in mass graves — I liked it all. At age 12, an interest in nudity and death. NOTE: I must backtrack. I left out an incident that occurred in Yakima (at home), probably the summer of 1970, at age 8 or 9. All I remember is going to bed nude one night and my brother (we shared a bed) told Dad. Dad hollered from his room and told me to put my underwear and pajamas on. I don't recall seeing Dad naked, but must have, because my argument was "why, you're sleeping naked!!" I must have seen him in his room as we were all getting ready for bed. Dad said he slept naked because he was hot. Well, so was I! I lost the argument, of course. I had no idea back then about sex, Dad's explanation that he was too hot seemed reasonable. Don't know what I'd have thought if I knew the real reason he was naked! Or maybe I would have tried it with my cousin. This is the end of my childhood memories regarding anything of a sexual nature. No, when I was 11, Dad worked as a janitor. One night while working with him, I was emptying what I thought was garbage buckets attached to the wall of each stall in the women's bathroom. Dad said it was for tampons and asked if I knew what they were. I said 1 thought that's what women wiped with. He explained to me (I think) but 1 wasn't comfortable with it and ignored him (I always ignored Dad when he talked about anything). 1 think that is the only "man to man" talk Dad ever had. Sex was certainly never discussed. So, my childhood experiences in regard to sex, nudity or related experiences start at age 8 or 9 (with one incident at age four) and end at 12. My crimes start at age 13, two or three months before my 14th birthday. For purposes of properly identifying certain events, 1 will use the real first names of victims when names are known. 14) WHEN: Spring Probably May, 1975. WHERE: Home (Richland) AGE: 13 VICTIM(S): 40 to 50 boys and girls, aged 6 to 10. I would expose myself to one child or groups of five to six boys and or girls (yelled, "hey, look up here," to get their attention) as they walked by the house on their way home from a nearby grade school. I do not believe I ever had an erection while doing this or whether I masturbated to thoughts of doing it. Most kids pointed, laughed, giggled but kept walking. Some stopped and stared as long as I stood in the window (keeping my face hidden so I couldn't be identified). One day after about three weeks, a boy walked slowly by staring at me the entire time. He was the only one 1 exposed to that day. That night a cop came to the door. He only wanted to let the adults in the house know someone in the house had exposed himself. Mom and Dad (knowing I'd been home alone) asked if I'd had a friend over. The cop said no one wanted to press charges and left. I never heard another word about it. The cop coming to the house scared me. 1 was afraid to do anything else from home. I learned three things that night: 1) Only one of 40 or 50 reported me. Most kids must like it or they didn't care. 2) My parents didn't care, so all I risked was embarrassment at being caught. 3) Police didn't care. Didn't even want to know who did it! Kids liked it, I liked it, no one else cared — why should I stop? 15) WHEN: Summer, 1975 WHERE: Home, Richland AGE 13-14 VICTIM(S): None Being afraid to do anything else for fear of being caught (it would be embarrassing and I might be grounded or something!), I spent my time alone. I began experimenting with different ways to masturbate and masturbated at least once a day. I became very interested in my own body. I would use different colored felt markers and shoe polish to draw designs on my groin, buttocks and genitals (every part of me which was covered by underwear). I had a leather watch-band from which I could remove the watch, leaving the band as a type of bracelet. I would put the band around my genitals, squeezing my testicles through and attach a cord to where the watch should have been. 1 would then attach weights to the cord to see how much weight I could support hanging from my genitals. I had become very interested in my own body, especially my genitals. I called these "lonely activities." 16) WHEN: Fall, 1975 WHERE: A relative's house in Richland, a mile from our house. AGE: 14 VICTIM(S): Two girls, One boy (Two cousins, age nine and five, Sister, age 10). My Mom's sister and family moved to Richland near to where we lived. We had dinner at their place one weekend, a barbeque. R—, my sister, S— and I were in R—'s bedroom. I do not recall why I was with the younger kids instead of with my cousin, my age, and my brother. I remember R— talking about a fair she'd been to and there was a game where you had to put your hands in a box and guess what was in it by feeling it (you could not see into the box). By this time I must have been getting bored with all my lonely bathroom activities (See #15), and I was still afraid to expose myself to kids I didn't know. When R— mentioned the guessing box at the fair, it must have given me an idea. I couldn't expose myself but maybe I could trick R— into touching me — she wouldn't know what it was that she touched. I took her into her parents room and into the closet and shut the door. She agreed to play a guessing game in the dark. Very quietly I pulled down my pants and underwear, took her hand, palm up, and held her hand up to my testicles. She wrapped her hand and fingers around my testicles then almost immediately pulled it away saying she knew what it was. I then had R— grab ahold of my penis, probably saying (don't remember my words) something like, "feel the other part." 1 told her to pull on it, she gently pulled on my penis. I told her to pull as hard as she could, which she did. I did not have an erection and it did not occur that I could have her rub (masturbate) my penis. I didn't know what I was doing. No one had ever touched my genitals before and I didn't have any idea what to do now. I had her stop and I pulled up my pants. I said something like, "OK, pull your pants down so I can feel yours." I started to open the closet door to let in some light so I could see her. If I remember right, she was willing to pull down her pants and let me touch her but not if I could see her. I think she let me to let in just enough light to see the outline of her body, but no details, just the shadow of her body. 1 do not remember touching her with my hands or what I said, but in remembering what I did with other kids a few years later, this is probably what happened next: I probably used my fingers to find and feel her vagina, then asked if I could put my mouth on it. All I remember for sure was she didn't object to me putting my mouth on her vagina with my lips tight against her around her vagina. I tried to blow out through my mouth! I then said she could pull her pants up. I can't remember the conversation, but R— was a willing participant, to her it was just a weird game. I don't know what I thought it was at the time or how I felt but for me it was sexual experimentation. R— and I rejoined S— and my sister in R—'s bedroom. I was shocked and tried to keep R— quiet when she started telling the others what we'd done. But, for some reason, instead of being afraid S— or my sister would tell on me and R—, I told R—, "OK, let's show them," when they said they didn't believe it. R— probably expected me to pull my pants down so she could grab, squeeze and pull on it again, because she said, "Oh, God," when I said, "Pull your pants down." "Oh, God," was one of her favorite expressions, she did not say it in fear or anything like that. She pulled her pants down and I told her to lay on the end of the bed, (in her bedroom). She said, "Oh, God," again and gave a sort of laugh. I got down on my knees in front of her. Now, I had seen only ONE girl's vagina (Y—, incident *7) before, and that was from a distance of six or seven feet. I could not see R—'s vagina in the closet as it was too dark, she was just a faint shadow standing there. I had touched a girl "there" (I didn't know what it was called) for the first time a few minutes earlier and now I had my first close up look at a girl. As I bent down over her to put my mouth on her vagina, I noticed it was crusty, dried urine, I supposed, she must not wipe good! I wasn't sure why she seemed dirty or crusty and nearly stopped. But, S— and my sister were watching and it was no different now than it was in the closet, so I put my mouth against her vagina and blew while the others watched. As R— pulled her pants up, I asked S— and my sister if either of them wanted to try it. They didn't, but R— helped me talk S— into it by saying, "Go ahead, S—, it kind of tickles." He pulled his pants down and for the first time I saw a boy's penis. I put my mouth on his penis, then blew which forced his penis out of my mouth. He pulled his pants up. Later that day, when alone with S—, I came up behind him put my arms around him from behind, pulling him up against me, then slid a hand down the front of his pants and started to play with his genitals. He said, "let me go or I'll tell." I let him go and never again tried to molest him. A couple of years later, R— was reminding my sister about the things I used to do. I said, "What do you mean used to?," and told her to pull down her pants — she declined. I didn't make her do it. I do not recall being sexually aroused (no erection) by this nor do I remember how I felt. I don't know if I masturbated later to thoughts of what I'd done. Basically, all I can remember about this incident with my cousins is that it happened. THIS was never reported. So, the first time I ever molested a child, I molested a boy and a girl, each one twice, four separate crimes in one day. 17) WHEN: Fall, 1975 WHERE: Home in Richland AGE: 14 VICTIM: Sister, age 10 I had spent half a day trying to get my sister to play a guessing game with me. After assuring her I would not make her touch my genitals, she relented. With her eyes closed and hands behind her back, I pulled my penis out through my fly and put it in her hand. She pulled her hand away and refused to play the game anymore. (If I remember correctly, I had a partial erection when 1 tricked my sister into touching me). One night after I thought everyone was asleep, I went into my sister's room. I was wearing only my underwear. Making sure she was asleep, I pulled my underwear down and set her hand on my penis. It felt warm and soft. I had an erection and my heart was pounding. 1 was excited and nervous at the same time. I had never planned or considered this before. R— and S— had pulled their pants down willingly (though S— was reluctant), but I was going to pull my sister's underpants down as she slept since I knew I'd never get them down any other way. With her hand still on my penis, I pulled back her sheets and blankets. As I started to pull down her panties, she woke up and pulled her hand away from me. She asked what I was doing as I pulled up my underwear and went back to my room. Mom was awake and asked my sister what was going on. She said 1 was in her room. Mom asked what I was doing. I said, "She was making noises so I was checking on her." Nothing else was ever said about it. One day I walked into my sister's room wearing nothing but my athletic supporter. I told her "this is what we wear in RE." She wondered if the girls wore them too. I said, "No, just the guys," then turned and walked out. She gasped when she saw my bare butt. She never reported any of this, but after my arrest for murder, she apparently told Dad that I once tried to get a cousin to pull her pants down. 18) WHEN: Thanksgiving weekend, 1975 WHERE: Home in Richland AGE: 14 VICTIM: Cousin, age 7-8. Other kids must have been outside playing. J— and I were upstairs alone in my bedroom. 1 don't remember, but must have been wanting to get J —'s pants down, but was afraid to make a move not knowing how he'd react. I knew he often left the bathroom door open when he went to urinate. 1 may have been waiting, hoping to see him through the open door. It just happened that I had to go at about the same time J— did. When J— said he had to go pee, I said "me, too" and followed him into the bathroom. Standing together in front of the toilet, I pulled my penis out through my fly making sure he had an unobstructed view. I was expecting him to pull his penis out through his fly, but apparently he hadn't learned to do it that way yet. I was very happy when he pulled down the front of his pants and underwear. I could see everything instead of just the end of his penis. I said something like "hey, you want to try something first?" I don't recall the rest of the conversation, but J — was willing to try what I suggested. All I remember is a funny feeling inside my stomach. I wanted plenty of physical contact, but it had to be sexual. J— and I both pulled our pants all the way down and our shirts up to our armpits (I didn't want to completely undress in case we had to dress fast if we heard someone coming up the stairs). I laid on the floor on my back and had J— lay crosswise on top of me — his genitals against my stomach. I don't recall but I probably let my hands rest on his back and butt in the few seconds he laid on me. I do remember how warm and soft his body felt, it felt good. Again, I don't remember what was said, but J— was willing to try something else. I got a piece of string from my room and went back to the bathroom. I tied one end of the string around my penis, the other end around J —'s penis and we played "tug-of-war," stopping as soon as he said it hurt. I decided we should use the bathroom and get out before someone else needed in. But J— had an idea he wanted to try. I had a boy who wanted to try something with me. I certainly wasn't going to pass that up! J— wanted to pee into my butt so his urine would come out through my penis. I knew that wouldn't work but since it meant he wanted his penis up against my butt, I let him try, stopping him when my legs got wet. The idea of penetration just did not occur to me. If it had, I would have probably showed him how to make himself erect so he could penetrate me or I may have penetrated him and pee'd into him, fortunately at that point in my life I didn't know something like that was possible. I dried off and we both used the toilet, letting our urine streams cross each other as if were playing "swords." I never had another opportunity to do anything else with J— that weekend or ever again. J— never reported this. 19) WHEN: Winter 1975-76 WHERE: Home AGE: 14 VICTIM: None I can remember sitting in 9th grade history class thinking about pulling down the front of my pants while sitting at my desk. I sat in the back, maybe no one would notice. I never actually did it, just thought about it. When I wasn't molesting cousins, 1 continued the lonely activities I described in #15. We had two dogs. One liked to sniff people's crotches. One day, before anyone else got home, I was in my room changing out of school clothes when the nosy dog wandered in. I had probably planned on stripping and playing with myself or lifting weights or something and was in one of my "horny" moods (?), so I got an idea when I saw the dog. Nude, I laid on my back and lifted and spread my legs and called the dog. He started licking my butt. For a period of three or four months I let the dog lick my butt every chance I got. I went as far as smearing feces on my penis so he'd lick it, too, but the dog tried to bite so I gave up. However, that gave me yet another idea which I did two or three times, smearing feces all over my stomach, genitals and thighs, then masturbating before cleaning off and showering. These I added to my "lonely activities." 20) WHEN: Late December, 1975 WHERE: Near Mayfair in Richland Age: 14 VICTIM: Six or seven year old boy. I had received a new 10 speed bike for Christmas. I had experimented with my cousins but still didn't know what it was I wanted. I realized that with a bike I could get away from home and expose myself so no one could tell the police where to find me if they reported it. One day I saw a boy alone in his front yard (there was a chain link fence around the yard but that certainly didn't stop me!). Seeing no traffic, no one else in sight, and seeing no one looking out the window of the boy's house, I pulled my genitals out of my pants keeping them hidden under my coat. As 1 rode past the boy's yard I stood on the pedals of my bike, faced him, yelled "Look!," and lifted my coat exposing myself to him as I rode past. I then left the area as quickly as possible, not even looking back to see the boy's reaction. (I don't know if this was ever reported.) 21) WHEN: Spring, 1976 WHERE: A small ballpark in Richland AGE: 14- 15 VICTIM(S): Four or five boys, aged 7-10. One day while looking for someone to expose myself to, I saw a group of several boys playing baseball. Some were "too old" for me (12 to 14), but a group of four or five younger ones were waiting to bat. I exposed myself to the younger boys as I rode past, in the same manner I used in *20 (keeping my genitals hidden under my T-shirt instead of my coat since the weather was warmer). As I rode away I heard the boys telling one of the older kids what I had done. One of them yelled, "put your dick back in your pants!" I do not know if this was reported. 22) WHEN: Winter 75-76 to winter 76-77 WHERE: Home in Richland AGE: 14-15 VICTIM: None When not exposing myself as I described in #s 20 and 21, or when not doing the things I will describe in *23-26,1 continued my lonely activities as described in #15 & 19, and discovered new things I could do to or with myself when alone. When no kids were available at home or when 1 couldn't find kids anywhere, I remained sexually active on my own. I don't know why I started or what I was thinking, but I'd give myself an erection and push straight pins into my penis, often trying to break my previous record by seeing how many pins I could get in at one time. I later started using ink pen fillers all the way into my penis. I would also strip and kneel in front of the bathtub, set my genitals on the side of the tub and lean over and lift my arms and legs. I would balance myself on my genitals in that way. 1 would balance myself for several minutes, a couple of times while reading a book to pass the time. Once, after more than a half-hour, my legs turned purple. I had cut off the circulation to my lower body while my entire body weight was pressing my genitals into my groin. I did this maybe six or seven times. During the summer of 1976,1 would ride my bike into the desert outside of town on old dirt-bike trails. I took off my shirts and pants and put them on the rack over my back tire, and rode my bike in my underwear. After doing that a couple times I got real brave, taking off my underwear also (but leaving my shoes on to protect my feet from the sharp edges on my bike pedals), riding in the desert completely nude with my clothes on my bike rack. I got braver, started leaving my clothing hidden by a rock, then riding my bike leaving my clothes behind. There was a small dirty pond near the garbage dump outside of town, out of view of the roads where I went skinny dipping four or five times. Also, I had a BB gun (pistol) and had made a holster for it in 9th grade arts class. I would go into the desert pretending to be an Indian who'd found a gun. I'd walk around wearing nothing but that holster, shooting at old cans and bottles. One day while riding nude I tried something new. (Sometimes I had an erection, sometimes I didn't). I found a stick about two feet long. I pushed one end into my anus as far as I could, then got on my bike standing on the pedals and rode away letting the other end of the stick rub against my back tire, causing the stick to vibrate in my ass. When I stopped and pulled the stick out, there was a little blood on it, but I felt no pain and wasn't concerned. I started writing in the dirt "streaker was here on . . . (the date)," but as I was writing I looked up and saw an old man walking and he saw me about the same time. I grabbed my clothes and ran into the bushes and got dressed. The old man was walking back to town (3A mile or so away) very quickly. I was never caught but that "close call" ended my nude desert activities. I do not know if this was reported. 23) WHEN: Late summer, 1976 WHERE: Somewhere in Richland AGE: 15 VICTIMS: Three boys ages 9-10, one boy aged 4 Now I had a problem. 1 was afraid of going back into the desert. I might be seen again by an adult. I had no cousins around now that I could experiment with, could not expose myself from home (as in #14) for fear of being identified. I was still exposing myself from my bike from time to time but it was no longer exciting. I missed the touching and physical contact that had occurred with my cousins and sister. I didn't want to just be seen anymore, I needed something more, but at the time, I wasn't sure what. I only knew I needed more. Looking back on it, I can say I missed the contact I had with my cousins, but at the time I only knew that exposing myself was not much fun anymore. In that frame of mind, I was out riding my bike one day, hoping to expose myself to at least one child. I saw four boys playing together, three about 9 or 10 years old and one about four. As I rode past them, I exposed myself to them in the same way as described in *20. Then, as usual, I kept on riding and didn't look back. But for some reason on this day, I did something unusual — instead of leaving the area, I rode around the block. I don't know why I broke my normal pattern but think I wanted to see how the boys reacted. I was pretty close to home, so may have been worried about being reported and caught since I lived only three or four blocks away. Whatever my reason for going back was, I was very pleasantly surprised when the boys yelled, "do it again!." I rode up to them and sat on my bike on the sidewalk in front of the house the boys were at. They all came up to me and said "do it again." I asked each one separately "you want to see it?" I wasn't going to do it again if one of them said no, because he might report it. But, fortunately, they all said yes and I realized I had an excellent opportunity here. So I said, "OK, I'll do it again if one of you do it first." Right there on the sidewalk the four year old pulled down the front of his pants so I and the three older boys could see his genitals. I saw his groin but his genitals were still hidden. I wanted to have him pull his pants down far enough to fully expose his genitals but that would require that he exposed at least part of his butt, and I wasn't comfortable having him pull his pants all the way down on the sidewalk in plain view of several houses. I was disappointed that I didn't see anything, but I wasn't going to complain. I still had four boys that wanted to see mine again. I wanted to let them have a good look, but not out where we could be seen by others. I suggested that we go behind the bushes on the side of their house and left my bike on the sidewalk. When we got behind the bushes, I was still nervous about pulling my pants down outside (an adult might come see why the kids went into the bushes), so I just pulled my penis out through the fly. If I remember right, I had a partial erection. The boys all looked for five or six seconds, then 1 asked "anyone want to touch it?" The four year old stepped closer and touched my penis and said, "Yup, it's real!" All four boys then laughed. I now had four boys who wanted to see my penis (they had said "do it again" after I first exposed myself) and one boy who willingly touched my penis. I had a great opportunity. I asked them to meet me at the nearby grade school later that day (no houses or other adults around.) I would show them some tricks (make myself erect so they could watch it "grow" and push straight pins into my penis), and then ask if I could make one of theirs "get bigger." I'd masturbate them and maybe even suck on the penis of any boy who wanted to try. I figured the four year old would do it since he'd pulled his pants down. But, they didn't show up at the school. A few days later, I rode my bike back past the house the boys had been playing at, two of the older ones were outside, I was going to expose myself again, then I saw someone 1 knew. The boys saw me and yelled, "Hey, he's back! That's the one!" He yelled, "Is that you Westley?" I said, "Yeah." He said, "All right," like I had done something he approved of. I left. I wasn't taking any chances. I didn't want to go to school. He was in my sophomore PE class. But if there were any 'rumors' or laughing about me, I never heard it. I don't think he told anyone what the boys had said I'd done. To be on the safe side, I never went near that house again. (My classmate lived across the street from those boys). 24) WHEN: Late summer/early fall 1976 WHERE: Sacajawea Elem. School, Richland VICTIM(S): 3 boys/3 girls ages 7-10. I liked it when that four year old touched my penis. That's what I'd been looking for. I liked all the contact I'd had with J— (#18) and that is what I'd missed. That's why exposing myself was no longer enough, I needed physical contact. I wanted other kids to touch me just like that four year old did. But I could not just walk up to a kid and say "touch my dick." So what would I do? I devised what I thought was my greatest, cleverest plan ever! And I got on my bike and went looking for someone to try it out on. I found six kids (three boys and three girls), approximately 7-10 years old, playing at Sacajawea Elementary School on a big, open playground. Eight or nine houses faced that playground. The kids were all together and no one else was in sight. I went up and asked the kids if they'd like to play a game. They said, "Sure, what?" I explained it would be a guessing game. I'd put something in their hands and they'd have to guess what it was by touching it, but not looking at it. I had them line up with their backs to me. I had seen a rock on the playground and gave it to each child in turn. They all guessed right. I had an ink pen with me, some of them figured it out. Then I told them the next one would be harder, and I'd have to hold on to it while they felt it. Warning them again not to peek, I pulled down the front of my shorts (I was wearing gym shorts with an elastic waist band so I wouldn't have to worry about zippers or buttons), and one at a time had every one of the six kids feel my penis. I pulled my shorts up and asked if they knew what it was, no one knew, but the youngest boy said "I think I know," but he wasn't sure. When asked they all said they wanted to try again. Again, all six felt my penis, and none knew what it was. I pointed to the front of my shorts and said "this." Two girls didn't know what I meant, so the third girl whispered it to them. The youngest boy said, "Yup, I knew it!" (He knew what he'd touched the first time, but touched it again anyway. That was an opportunity I'd hoped for!) I asked if any of them wanted to see it (my penis), the boys did but the girls didn't. The girls went back to playing. I asked the boys if they wanted to touch it again, two of them did. I suggested going around the school building where people from the houses couldn't see us (I'd need more privacy. I'd pull my shorts down, let the two that wanted to touch it again take all the time they wanted, and see if I could get at least one of them to pull their pants down, then see if they'd let me touch theirs.) When I suggested getting out of sight of the houses, one boy said he didn't want to see it and went to play with the girls. The youngest wanted to go with me but only if the other boy would go — just to watch. The other boy would watch if we stayed there in the middle of the field but not if we moved to a more private area. As much as I wanted to get that one boy (who wanted to see and touch again) into a secluded area so I could say, "I will if you will," (pull pants down), I decided not to push it. The other boy was getting a little nervous. I also decided not to risk pulling my pants down out in the open again. I said, "OK, don't tell anyone I was here. You can go back and play now." No threats or anything, just asking them politely not to tell anyone what had occurred. 25) WHEN: September, 1976 WHERE: Jason Lee Elementary, Richland AGE: 15 VICTIM(S): Three girls, ages 6-9 I really liked those warm hands wrapped around my penis during the "guessing game" in incident *24. I wanted to do it again, but it would have to be real soon as school would be starting in a week or two, which would mean less time available for searching for kids. Just a day or two after incident *24, the neighbor lady was talking to my Mom, she was looking for a baby-sitter for Friday or Saturday, a party night anyway. I seized the opportunity. I would be alone with three young kids! Arrangements were made, but the time I'd be needed wasn't certain as yet. The next afternoon, not wanting to wait the rest of the week for a chance to molest a kid or two, I got on my bike and went looking. At the grade school nearest my house, I saw three kids (from a distance) playing on the swings. One of them appeared to have no shirt on. As I got closer, I realized they were girls including the one with no shirt. The girl without the shirt was the youngest of the three, maybe six or seven. Seeing a girl without her shirt on even though her breasts were not developed at all, wellll, I just couldn't pass up the opportunity. If she didn't mind not wearing a shirt, maybe she wouldn't mind pulling her pants down. (I was thinking "what an easy target"). I asked the girls if they wanted to play a game and explained my guessing game to them. Although the playground was fairly isolated, I took the girls up next to the school building to be a little safer (more private). The youngest girl picked up her shirt and put it on as we walked to the area I suggested. I was mad at myself, realizing that if we hadn't moved, her shirt would probably have stayed on the ground. The less she had on when I tried to get her pants down, the better, but, it wasn't going to stop me at all. Before we started playing the guessing game, I asked the younger girl why she had her shirt off. I don't recall exactly what was said, but I remember one of the other girls saying, "he just wants to see your kee-kaw." I had never before heard any term for the girl's private parts, so I now started calling it a kee kaw. Then we played the game as I have described before. (Apparently the talk of no shirt and the girls thinking I wanted to see a "kee-kaw" didn't bother them, they continued walking with me to where I wanted to play the game). They each felt my penis twice, didn't know what it was, I pointed to the front of my pants and said, "it was my dick." I asked if they wanted to see it, they did. I couldn't believe how lucky I was! This made three events in a row, involving thirteen children all together, in which every kid involved WANTED to see my penis (at least until they knew I wanted something more). I said I would pull my pants down if one of them did first. One of the older girls told the younger one to do it so I would show them mine. The younger girl agreed. (I then knew I would ask to touch it, it would only be FAIR since she had touched mine). But instead of pulling her pants down, she ran. I chased her, the other two girls followed me. When I caught the girl, she dropped to the ground, laying on her back. One girl asked her why she ran, this was encouraging for me, I thought the older two girls were on my side! I was by now on my knees straddling the girl's legs. I took no notice that we were out in the middle of the playground now and that houses were in view. I don't know what 1 was going to do, all I knew was I HAD to pull that girl's pants down. I'd seen her without a shirt, I HAD to see more. As I started to unbutton her pants, she started crying. I came to my senses at that point and got up, saying, "OK. You can go. Don't tell anyone what happened." The girls ran off. I got on my bike and as I was riding around the side of the school to head for home, a janitor came out and started talking to me. I don't remember what he was saying, but I knew he'd seen me and the girls in the middle of the playground, and 1 wondered if he'd seen the guessing game also. He was being pretty friendly. I knew he wanted one of two things — to hand me over to the police or to molest me! (I'd heard a story once about a school janitor who had been reported for molesting kids. I wasn't sure if I'd end up in jail or the dumpster.) I said I had to get home for dinner and left. I didn't know it yet, but I had been reported by the girls. The next night, I baby-sat the neighbor kids. 26) WHEN: Sept., 1976 WHERE: Neighbor's house, Richland AGE: 15 VICTIM(S): Two boys ages 1 and 4, one girl age 3 As I mentioned in the first paragraph of *25,1 was already scheduled to baby-sit the kids next door. After attacking the three girls at the school, I made a list of the things I would do to the neighbor kids. I wrote in my other sexual history what I WANTED to do and what actually happened, so I won't waste time and paper repeating it here. I mention it now only to put this incident in it's proper place in the overall picture, refer to the other history for the details of this event (attempted to molest the two boys, molested the girl). I will only add that on the list of things I wanted to do to the little [?], I used the word "kee-kaw," having learned that word in incident *25. (Example: "Lick kee-kaw" or "kiss kee-kaw"). NOTES: To summarize my activities thus far, I have exposed myself to 40 to 50 boys and girls from my house, exposed myself from my bike to nine or ten boys totaling as many as sixty children I exposed myself to. I have, by this time, molested four children. I have attempted to molest three kids and attempted sexual contact with my sister. I have also lured nine children into touching my penis. This is a total of as many as 77 victims in the period from the Spring of 1975 to the Fall of 1976 — a period of just 16 or 17 months! All of that, and only ONE contact with police (who did not appear to care what was happening (see incident #14). Seventy-seven victims at age 15! And NO arrests! I have listed all sex-crimes I can remember up through the year 1976 at age 15. I was FINALLY arrested in March, 1977. According to Richland Police Dept. records, I was arrested for Indecent Exposure Juvenile, Case * CR 77-2099. I do not recall this particular crime. The record shows the charge was file on March 10, 1977, though it was several days earlier when 1 was arrested and confessed. (I was not allowed to travel with my school band to a district basketball championship game, districts usually occur in February, which is why I know I was arrested BEFORE March 10). At the time of my arrest, in addition to confessing to 77-2099,1 helped police clear their records. I confessed to 77-2041, 76-8125, 76-7262, 76-6809, 76-0486. These are six separate crimes for which I was able to say "that was definitely me." I do not have the details of these case numbers. All I can say is that they were probably ALL "indecent exposures," since that's what I was arrested for and the police were clearing their files of similar cases in which I fit the descriptions given. In March of this year, (1992), I wrote to Richland Police asking for a copy of my arrest record. In a letter from Richland Police, dated 3-11-92, I was told that according to their records on March 10,1977,1 was charged in case #77-2099. The other cases do not appear on my police record. My defense team investigators found the other case number to which I had confessed. Apparently, I was actually charged in only the case that got me arrested and police just simply cleared their files of all the others. Police turned the matter over to Juvenile authorities. I don't know if Juvenile authorities were told about ALL the crimes I confessed to or just the one I was arrested for, but the Juv. Auth. that my parents and I talked to said he saw no reason for pursuing the matter and suggested therapy! I got off Scot-free! No conviction, no detention, NOTHING! I was told that when asked if I had ever been arrested, my answer to a policeman was "YES," but my answer to a job application would be "NO." In other words, 1 was told by legal authorities that I had been arrested for sex crimes but I'd never have to tell potential employers about it! This means that in 1977, legal authorities would allow sex offenders to hide their crimes and work in places such as schools or day care centers if they wanted! I was getting a very clear message at age 15 that police just did not care what I did! I wasn't prosecuted, and I was told by police I could LIE about my crimes on job applications! According to records my attorneys have filed with the State Supreme Court, in addition to six case numbers listed for March 10, 1977, I also confessed to exposing myself near the river and exposing myself to a group of school children. Attorneys records also state that I had exposed myself to two kids, ages 8 and 10. I do not know if any of these incidents appearing on my record are among those I have described in incidents 14-26. It is quite possible (probable) that the incidents on my record (the six case numbers and the two kids) are all incidents I don't recall. The girls from incident *26 had reported me to their parents. The one I tried to molest showed up at my house with her father one day. She had recognized my bike in the yard. My parents were told about the guessing game. This occurred about six months before my arrest. I don't know if this is one of the crimes reported to police or not. I don't believe it was. I didn't talk to police about it and my dad had just a brief "chat" with me. Nothing was ever done about it, I GOT away with this crime! Anyway, all charges against me were dropped. I had confessed to several crimes and helped police clear their files. I was cooperating, even told police about things they weren't aware of. I agreed to pursue counseling, things weren't too serious, so charges were dropped. Dad took me to see the same counselor he was seeing. The counselor found out I was VERY naive and he taught me all about "the birds and bees." He used two well known pornographic magazines to show me — a fifteen year old — what he was talking about. He told me MANY things men and women could do together. He spent just as much time (if not more), telling me what men could do with each other! One day, he asked what I'd like to do for a living. "Doctor" came out. He laid on the floor, loosened his belt, said, "I've been in an accident, what would you do to help me?" I said I'd give him a shot for pain and have tests done, he got up. I don't know what his intentions were, but I was very uncomfortable with the whole situation. I don't recall ever telling him what all I'd done. He probably only knew what dad had told him, that I'd confessed to exposing myself a few times. The counselor put me in a group for troubled teens. I wasn't about to tell kids I recognized from school what I'd done (they all fought with their parents or were runaways. I had exposed myself. I was the only one that did things like that. I didn't want anyone to know about it). After one group session I quit therapy completely. I was only in counseling a couple of months (eight or nine sessions) when I quit. Since the authorities had dropped charges, I was under no obligation to continue therapy. TO RECAP: By March, 1977, at age 15, I had as many as 77 victims. I had been caught 3 times, had 2 contacts with police but only one arrest. At the time of my arrest, I confessed to six crimes for which I have police file or case numbers and one crime for which I have the names of the victims. That's seven crimes I cleared from police files and told them I had committed others that they apparently weren't aware of. Authorities decided not to pursue the matter because it wasn't that serious and I was being cooperative. Counseling was suggested, urged, but it was not required! I had not been prosecuted or convicted. No probation. There was nothing to keep me in therapy and I dropped out after just two months. I learned that MOST of my crimes had gone unreported, and police weren't concerned about the ones that HAD been reported, if they were concerned they would have taken me to court! I had gotten away with my crimes! So — I liked what I was doing and since most of the crimes went unreported, most of the kids must have liked it also (like the ones who wanted to "see it again" and touch "it"). The police obviously didn't care. I had NO REASON TO STOP! No reason but one, I was afraid, not of getting caught, but of the EMBARRASSMENT caused by others finding out what I was doing. So, for fear of embarrassment more than anything else, I stopped committing crimes for a brief period of time and went back to all my old "lonely activities," as mentioned in incidents ^s 15, 19 and 22. 29) WHEN: School year, 1977 WHERE: Richland AGE: 16 VIC¬TIM^): None About the same time as my auditorium "activities," it was time for the girls to ask the guys out for dinner and dance. The school's ugliest, fattest dog asked me — and 1 went. We ate, danced one slow dance, never talked, and the evening ended. It was a first date for both of us and neither of us knew what to say, and weren't comfortable doing what everyone else seemed to be doing, (kissing and even some pretty heavy petting). It was one of the worst evenings of my life! 30) WHEN: December, 1977 WHERE: Richland AGE: 16 VICTIM(S): Six of them. 8 year old M—, two other 8 year boys, and 11 year old girl, three year old N—, and a 2 year old boy. It was at this time I began molesting N—, the daughter of my dad's girlfriend, hoping to try out some of the things my counselor said men and women could do together. The details are all in my previous sexual history, so I won't repeat them here. I will add, though, that I wanted to pull apart the lips of her vagina enough to see what her clitoris looked like and that if I had been able to penetrate her with my finger that first time 1 molested her, I later would have tried intercourse with her. But since my finger wouldn't go in, I didn't even consider trying to put my penis in. I also previously wrote the details about molesting the baby boy in the garage at dad's girlfriend's house about this same point in time when Dad and I were helping her move into town so I won't repeat those details either. The details of what I did with M—, the kids playing spin-the-bottle, M— and his friend on our "fishing" trip can all be found in my previous sexual history. I mention all these things with M— and N— in this history just to include them in this chronological record of everything I can remember doing. These events occurred between December 1977 and early 1979. These dates MAY be a little different than the ones I gave in the previous history but all details of all crimes during this time are the same as in the other history I wrote. NOTE: On all crimes/incidents that I am sure I have given you details on previously, I will not repeat those details here, but will insert the crimes in the proper places in this history as 1 just did for M—, N— and the other kids with M—. This history is merely to correct the dates I gave you previously and to include things I have remembered since the last history I wrote. If I'm not sure I gave you certain details before, I will repeat them here. 31) WHEN: Feb. or March, 1979 WHERE: Near home in Richland AGE: 17 VICTIM(S): None This is the time when I began running around the block nude, late at night or on weekends. The cold weather never bothered me. It was actually fairly warm most of the times I did this. My heart was racing, the danger of being caught in the middle of town a block away from home with no clothes — I just couldn't get cold. I mentioned all the details about this (running around the block and to the school nude) before, so won't repeat it here. It was about this time I was no longer able to molest M—, but my Mom was now married. I had a step brother and stepsister. 32) WHEN: Spring-early Summer, 1979 WHERE: Richland at home AGE: 17 VICTIMS: 10 year old male (XY), 12-13 year old female (ZY) I don't recall how much of this I have said before, so I'll repeat it all here. It is also possible I put it in the wrong order in my previous history. I missed M—, I liked all that regular sexual contact with no fear of being reported. I wanted someone else that I could molest regularly, and my step- siblings were the only possibilities. My stepsister was a little too old, and my stepbrother was the ugliest kid I've ever seen, but they were better than nothing. There are two separate incidents I can remember but I don't remember what order they happened in. One day, Mom, Step-Dad, sister, step bro XY— and step-sister ZY— and me were out fishing (near Patterson on the Columbia River). Me, XY—, ZY— & my sister had been swimming (after fish quit biting) and it was cooling off. XY— went back to fishing and I was changing out of my wet swim trunks into some warm, dry jeans before I also started fishing again. Mom and Step-Dad were out in the boat. I was changing behind some rocks and could see ZY— and my sister. When nude, I stepped out to where the girls could see me. When they looked up I pretended to suddenly notice them and ducked back behind the rocks. I heard one of them say "he wanted us to see him." Later that day, I don't remember the conversation, I'm sure it was at my urging — XY— flipped a B.A. at the girls. (I was disappointed — he was facing me when he did it, but didn't pull his pants down in the front far enough for me to see anything.) On another occasion (at home), XY— and I were playing cards. I made him a bet — if I lost I'd do a certain thing — if he lost, he had to do it. The loser would have to go to the school (it was about 10:00 at night — dark and no one at the school) and use the playground equipment — slide and swing — while naked. XY— agreed! I was happy — if he was agreeing to that, I would probably be able to make him my replacement for M—! I lost the game and we went to the school. XY— said I didn't have to do it. I said I would because I would have made him do it if he'd lost the game. I decided not to completely strip, and I didn't use the playground equipment. We went between two wings at the building shaped like and "E" where we could not be seen. I took off my shirt and pulled my pants down to my ankles. I hopped around a few seconds making sure XY— could see my genitals bouncing around. I got dressed and we went back home. I never again tried anything with XY—. He obviously was not as interested as M— had been. I gave up on my step-siblings. If they were younger and better looking I would have forced it on them, but non-interest, age and the fact that they were not very good look¬ing — three strikes, they're OUT!! I was disappointed! I wanted M— back, and even would have tried N— again! (N— had reported me only when I said it was a secret — I just wouldn't tell her that again!) But, N— and M— were gone and XY— and ZY— were hopeless. (Neither XY— or ZY— ever reported me.) 33) WHEN: Second week of July, 1979 WHERE: A camp on an Island AGE: 18 VICTIM(S): Seven 9-10 year old boys I had been in the cross-age teaching program my senior year at school, student teaching my old junior high school. When the high school band director traveled to contests with the Jazz Band, I led the high school pep band at basketball games. My high school director told me that if I was interested, he could get me on as a counselor at a summer music camp. I applied to the camp as a clarinet counselor and with Mr. H (band director of high school) recommendation and my experience student teaching, I was accepted as a counselor for all 3 one-week long camps. One week each for 4th-6th graders, junior high, and high school kids. Camp would be the last three weeks of July. Again, all the details of what actually happened can be found in my previous history. I had seven victims here. The one I had to dance nude and the six that watched it happen. Those six also wanted to play strip poker at my suggestion. SEVEN victims at one time! I do not believe any of those kids ever reported what happened. RECAP: As of July, 1979, at age 18,1 now had as many as 92 VIC¬TIMS, caught only four times and reported to police twice, with one arrest, never prosecuted and in voluntary counseling twice. Two victims were molested repeatedly. 34) WHEN: July, 1979 WHERE: Camp AGE: 18 VICTIMS: None The boys at Camp (Music Camp) are not the only thing I should report. This is also the first time I ever kissed a girl. One of the girls on the resident camp staff was about my age. She had grown up in (?), don't remember the name of the town, but it is near Bremerton. Her dad was in the Navy. Obviously, this girl had been with other guys — now, at camp, she was after me! Resident staff, those who work at the camp year around such as kitchen help, nurse, janitorial, etc., were not supposed to "mingle" with the staff of various camps — in my case, a cabin counselor and music staff. But, I found myself holding her hand after campfire one night as we were ushering all the kids back to the cabins. In the woods, she started kissing me. I knew she wanted more than that — she had keys to a building we could use. But, I'd never before even TOUCHED a girl — a kiss was new and uncomfortable — NO WAY I could do even more! I broke off the kiss and avoided her the rest of the summer. I think I was just too afraid — too unsure of myself — didn't know how to act, what to say, or even how to have sex, which is what she wanted. She was experienced — I certainly couldn't tell her I didn't know how to do it!!!! 35) WHEN: August, 1979 WHERE: Yakima River at W. Richland AGE: 18 VICTIMS: Three boys - ages 9-10 After camp, I moved to Dad's apartment in West Richland. West Richland borders the river and is so located the kids (and adults) can walk down from their homes to fish. One day when I thought no one was around, I went skinny dipping. Suddenly someone asked, "Are you skinny dipping?" I looked up and saw three boys who were swimming and playing on the other side of the river. The river was about three feet deep and about twenty yards wide. I said I was and asked if they wanted to join me. They didn't. I got out of the river and left, not wanting to risk one of them reporting me if I stayed. However, I made sure they could see me as I dried off and got dressed. As far as I know, this was never reported. (Keeping a running total, I am now up to as many as 95 victims, no less than 85 and these are just the ones I can remember). 36) WHEN: August, 1979 WHERE: Ballpark near river in W. Richland AGE: 18 VICTIMS: Two boys, ages four and eight Again, I really missed all the regular molesting of N— and the sex related "games" with M—. I was frustrated that I hadn't found replacement sex partners in XY— and ZY—. I was angry with myself for not taking advantage of that one boy at camp and for not taking advantage of all the others that wanted to play strip poker. Also, I should have swam over to those boys in the river to let them have a good look at me as I asked them to go skinny dipping. Just too many frustrations and blown opportunities. I vowed I'd never again blow opportunities with willing kids as I had in the last few weeks. In fact, I would CREATE opportunities. Kids were no longer available to me — so I'd go looking for them. One day as I was driving away from home intending to look for kids at the rivers in W. Richland as well as at the grade schools, I saw two boys playing at a baseball park. I figured they lived in the neighboring trailer park. I parked my car and walked over to them. I said, "Hi," and if I remember correctly, asked if they would like to make some money. They did. I led them to the bullpen, hoping to get them down into it out of sight of nearby houses and trailers. The four year old went TO the entrance of the pen but not into it. The older boy wanted to know what I was going to do. He had climbed the fence and was obviously ready to make a run for help. I tried to get him into the pen so I could be blocking the exit before I said I wanted one of them to pull their pants down, but he wouldn't move from the fence. Watching him closely, I told both boys, "I'll pay you both $2.00 if one of you pulls your pants down and let's me touch you." (I also intended to put my mouth on it.) The older boy said, "My dad's a cop." He was tensed and ready to run. I said, "You know what? I'm a cop, too. 1 go around in regular clothes to make sure kids don't do things like that. You guys can go." I left the area immediately, going into Richland hoping for better luck there. I don't think those kids reported me. They'd seen my car — it was a very SMALL town — and I only lived one block away — just telling their dad (cop or not) the color of my car would have got me caught. (Now up to 87-97 victims). 37) WHEN: Probably early September, 1979 WHERE: Sacajawea Elementary, Richland AGE: 18 VICTIMS: Two boys about seven. In my travels, I had found an empty house in a relatively isolated area about one block from a school. One day, with a deck of cards tucked into my sock, I went to that school looking for any kid I might be able to take to that house to play strip poker. I found two boys in a courtyard type playing area — a wall blocked the view from the neighboring houses. I had left my car on the street around the side of the building. I said 'hi' to the boys, being friendly, and asked if they'd like to play a game. "Sure, what?" I said, "Strip poker." They asked what that was. I said I'd make it easier since they didn't know how to play, we'd play "strip-draw" instead. We'd sit in a circle and each of us would draw a card. The person with the lowest card takes his shoes off, the next time, his socks. We keep going until someone is naked. The oldest of the two boys started to pull his pants down right then, he apparently didn't understand the game, but knew I wanted his pants down. I said, "No, you only have to do it if you lose. Besides, we shouldn't do it here, other people might see us. There's an empty house just up the street, we can play there." He said they weren't supposed to go with strangers. Did they know any strangers named Mark? (False name in case they reported me). No. I said we'd just play one game and play until we were all naked. They could even see the house from the school. Well, it was dinner time. (I wanted them totally naked so I could suck on their penises. At that point in my life that's all I wanted to do — to suck a boy's penis for a few seconds — it would be more exciting if he/they were totally naked instead of just pants pulled down). Not wanting to keep the boys there any longer, I let them go. To this day, I really don't know why I didn't tell the one boy to go ahead and pull his pants down like he'd started to do. (He didn't seem to be excited about it — he was just submissive, doing what he was told. He didn't seem overly upset about it either — but he definitely was not going to go anywhere with me! He had obviously been taught not to go anywhere with strangers but had not been taught NOT to pull his pants down for strangers!). I do not believe they ever reported me. (Realizing I had exposed myself to 40-50 kids, a question of ten, I am now up to 89-99 victims and same arrest record as mentioned previously.) 38) WHEN: November, 1979 WHERE: Richland AGE: 18 VICTIMS: None I had graduated, but was still student teaching the Jr. High bands. I was also going to my old high school every afternoon to work with the flag/drill team that would be going with the band to a state marching competition. One of the girls on the team pointed out to me that one of the other girls really liked me. A couple of weeks later, this same girl asked if I was going to ask the other one out. I asked her to tell the other girl politely that I wasn't interested, I didn't want to hurt her feelings and did not know what to say. The girl said she would take care of it. (The girls all liked me — I was a buffer between them and the band director who insisted on perfection — but apparently at least one liked me for other reasons — and I just was not interested. MY only interest was boys AND girls under age ten.) This girl was about three years younger than I. Although I was CONSTANTLY searching for victims or "targets" as I called them, I don't recall any specific incidents between September of 1979 and July of 1980. I'm sure I had a few victims, at least attempted molestations, but I can't recall anything now. 39)WHEN: July, 1980 WHERE: Music Camp, on an island AGE: 19 VICTIMS: Three boys about ten years old I was looking forward to returning to camp for two reasons and one was NOT music! I hoped my willing flasher of incident *33 would be back also — he was! I was going to get him to show me his five ways to masturbate that he'd talked about last year. When I asked if he still did the things he did last summer, he said, "No." I said, "Good," making him think I was glad he'd stopped. I didn't want him thinking I WANTED to see him naked again. I still hoped to get him alone and maybe even blackmail him if necessary to get his pants down, but the opportunity never arose, he was not in my cabin or my workshops that year. But, during the week of our youngest campers, by the 4th day of camp, my cabin was smelling pretty bad — sweat, dirty clothes, salt water — kids at camp DO NOT bathe! I was able to get three of them to go with me to the shower house — no walls between shower stalls, just a large open area with a couple of shower heads. All three boys appeared a little nervous, having never showered in that kind of situation before — I said they'd be showering like that in Jr. high and high school PE, so they might as well get used to it. Two of them were obviously rather modest, keeping their backs to each other and to me as much as possible. I was, of course, showering between them. The two next to each other were the ones that appeared to be just modest, they were talking about peeking through a hole in the wall into the girl's shower where we could hear some girls and a counselor or two talking. The boy on the other side of me was pretty quiet, especially when he realized where my eyes were directed — he knew I was looking at all of their genitals and he was not comfortable. I didn't try to touch any of them anyway, but I saw them and they saw me. All three were victims. I'm sure this was never reported. (Now 92-102 victims as of July, 1980 at age 19.) This year at camp there was another incident similar to *34, but with a music counselor — a woman about eight or nine years older than I. Her husband was in the Navy, overseas, and she was lonely. When I realized what she wanted, I just avoided her. Again, I just didn't know what to do — no experience with women at all, plus the fact she was ONE VERY UGLY creature! ("Husband in Navy" — last year it was "father in Navy"!) 40) WHEN: August, 1980 WHERE: Bumping Lake AGE: 19 VICTIM: twelve year old boy. Good place to stop and staple! I can only staple six pages together by hand with used staples and I should wait for a new pen, too! During the last week of school in the spring of 1980, the director of the Jr. high bands and I had been using his free period to practice/play clarinet duets just for something to do. During that week, I left my clarinet at the Jr. High. I did not open my clarinet case again until I was at Camp in July. In my case, I found a note from one of the boys that was in one of the Jr. High bands that year. The note said something about having a nice summer, something else that I can't remember for sure, then "I want you, and I love you." The kids at school were always giving him a bad time, teasing him, and I had noticed he and a couple other boys being rather friendly together. I figured they may have done some experimenting with each other. As near as I could tell, the note was his writing and he wanted sex with me. (It was believed by the other kids, 12 to 15 years old, that he was gay.) Now, he was much older than what I would have gone after, but he was one of the youngest in his class, as I had been. He had just finished 7th grade, so in August he had probably just turned 13. At the end of the year, we had had a swimming party for the bands (as an assistant/student teacher, I, of course helped chaperone the party). Though they were "too old," I did closely watch and noticed that the younger ones had no body hair — none on chest or armpits. They were possibilities, IF I were desperate. He was one that I could detect no body hair on, and he still had a child's voice, all signs that he had not yet reached puberty and may not have pubic hair. When I saw that note from him, which made it clear that he wanted my body — he wanted sex with me and I knew he really liked me. (I was an older friend and band teacher, but I was not a real teacher — there always seemed to be six or seven boys and girls from the band around me. They could relate to me better than to the older band teacher, I guess. The kid was always there. I can remember looking up to a teacher when I was in the same Jr. high band years earlier, all of us kids thought he was great!) Anyway this kid had been a "Possibility in desperation" in my mind because of all I knew about him. With the note, well, I at least wanted to check out his body — if he had no pubic hair, I'd take it further. When summer camp ended at the end of July, I went home figuring how to make a move with him. My sister and I had been discussing going camping. I invited him to go along with us. That got us away from parents and up into the mountains. All I had to worry about was having time with him away from my sister. We left town on a Friday afternoon and would return Sunday night. On Saturday we all went swimming. I was looking him over very closely, still unsure if I wanted to do anything with a boy his age and size (he was a little on the fat side but not too bad). I decided to make my first move after swimming (I was also not SURE he REALLY wanted what I thought that note meant). We were going to leave camp and go check out Boulder Cave, so to save time, I suggested that we change out of our shorts in the tent at the same time. He appeared nervous when we both pulled our shorts off. I made sure he could clearly see my genitals, and noticed that he did not have his back to me as one would expect from a boy who doesn't want his genitals seen. In fact, he was aware that I was staring at his genitals, but he didn't try to cover them. We began dressing. My only intention at that point was to see if he had pubic hair — I didn't want to take time doing anything then because my sister was right outside the tent waiting to change. He had no pubic hair and my mouth was literally watering in anticipation of licking his scrotum and sucking on his penis, which was not much bigger than the other boys' penises I had seen — it was a little thicker than an eight or 10 year old's penis, but no longer. I thought about his beautiful genitals all day. I decided that, since the tent was a two-man tent, it would be best if we slept in it and my sister in the back of the car, a station wagon. They agreed. I had him to myself! We rolled out the sleeping bags. I asked if he cared if I slept nude — he said he didn't. I stripped, making sure he could see my genitals and taking plenty of time to get into my sleeping bag. He left his pants on, apparently not wanting to be seen even in his underwear now (it was warm, so he didn't leave his pants on because of the cold). I was about to ask him "what would you do if I asked you to take you pants off?," but I had the feeling he didn't want anything happening so I didn't ask. After he was asleep, I unzipped his sleeping bag. I was going to pull his pants down just enough to suck his penis as he slept but as I was trying to unsnap his pants, he rolled over. I decided not to try anything else with him. On the way home, Sunday, I showed him the note I'd found in my Clarinet case — he said he didn't write it. I figured one of the other band kids had planted the note, playing a trick on him. But now, I wondered if some of the kids were suspicious about me — perhaps I had exposed myself to younger siblings of the band kids — those kids could have seen me at the concerts and told their older brothers and sisters what I'd done. (We had seen each other nude at the same time. He was obviously uncomfortable with that. This brings me to somewhere between 93-103 victims.) 41) WHEN: August and early September, 1980 WHERE: Same park as *27 AGE: 19 VICTIMS: Nine boys ages 7-10 Something was definitely wrong. I just hadn't been getting what I wanted. I had failed with my stepbrother and stepsister, I didn't do anything with the boys at camp like I could have and the next year I hadn't tried hard enough at camp again. I'd also failed to molest several other boys, (*35, 36, 37, and 40). All those possibilities and I hadn't actually molested one boy. I would just have to change my approach. Instead of passively waiting for opportunities, then not acting on them, I'd have to become a little bolder — MAKE things happen and no longer pass up opportunities, whether I'm nervous or not. No more would I "chicken out" at the last minute! I knew kids liked to play in the area of the park of incident *27. They liked to fish along the river there or build forts in the bushes. One day intending to molest, I was walking around the park watching for kids with no adult supervision. On a trail in the woods, I met three boys, all seven to eight years old. Very nervously, with heart POUNDING, I said 'Hi' and asked their names, then asked, "What would you guys say if I said one of you has to pull your pants down?" NONE of them appeared scared or nervous at all, they asked, "Why?" I said, "I just want to look at your dick, which one will do it?" One boy said, "I'll do it." The tone of his voice indicated he DID WANT to do it. I had apparently found three boys willing to experiment. As he started to pull his pants down, the other two started walking away. The way the two had reacted I was sure they weren't going for help or trying to "escape," but I wasn't taking chances — their parents might be elsewhere in the park and wonder where the third boy was. I said, "Just wait there, guys, this will just take a second. Keep your backs turned so there's not too many of us looking at him at once." They waited and I heard them talking about building a new fort, "when he's done," (meaning when I was done with their friend). When I looked back, the boy's pants were down and I went down to my knees as his underwear came down. Standing with his pants at his knees kept his legs together fairly close and his underwear stuck up in his crotch, his penis was visible but his scrotum was partially blocked. I asked, "Can I pull your underwear down a little farther?" He said I could. I pulled them down past his knees, then asked, "Can I touch it?" He again said I could. I lifted his penis and the scrotum, looking him over. "Can I put my mouth on it?" He made a funny face. I said, "It feels good, you'll like it!" He said, "OK, you can do it." I looked at the other boys just as one looked over. He apologized for looking over. Not a scared apology, but as if he were really sorry for looking at his partially nude friend and might have embarrassed him. He didn't want to embarrass his friend by peeking! I said, "It's OK. Turn around, we'll be done in a minute." I then sucked on the boy's penis for a few seconds and helped him pull his pants up while I called the other two over. I said, "OK, you can all go now — just don't tell anyone you saw me." They walked off as if nothing unusual had happened. I was very happy I had found these three boys. They were willing and I was sure they wouldn't report me. A few days later, I found three more boys at the park, and I watched them playing in the river for a few minutes (I was hiding and they didn't see me). They were talking about leaving. I wanted to approach them but they were out in the open. As they started walking, I realized they had to come through the woods to get off that particular beach. I placed myself on the trail in an isolated area they'd have to come through. Having such great luck a few days earlier, I was more sure of myself. Two boys appeared and I asked their names. They started to walk past me and I said, "Hold up a minute, I want to talk to you guys." The third boy came but didn't see me right away. He started talking until one of the boys pointed to me. I asked their names and they told me — they were all nine to ten years of age. These boys, unlike the first three, were nervous about being stopped. Instead of ASKING one to pull his pants down as I did before, I said, "I want one of you to pull your pants down." One started to leave and another started to follow him. I said, "You're not going until someone does it." The first one sat down crying and the second one backed off a little. The one crying was obviously terrified — something I had never before seen in my victims or intended victims. I said, "OK, you don't have to. Just calm down, I'm not going to hurt you." To the other two, I said, "Which one of you will do it?" The one that arrived behind the first two, who appeared to be the least frightened, said he would. Just like the boy a few days earlier, he pulled down his pants and underwear — wet underwear from swimming stuck to his genitals. I asked if I could pull them down a little further and he said, "Yeah." with a heavy sigh. Putting a finger under his genitals I pulled down the center of his underwear and asked, "Can I touch it?" He said, "I guess," in a tone that indicated he didn't believe he really had a choice. I checked him out just like that boy before but this time the other two were watching. When I asked if I could "put my mouth on it," he said, "Might as well now." (As if nothing else could be worse than what I'd already done). I sucked on his penis a few seconds then said he could pull his pants up. The quiet one who'd backed away asked if they could go now. I said, "Just a second," then asked the molested boy, "Did I hurt you?" No. The one the most scared was close to hyperventilating — I told him to calm down, relax, take a deep breath, making sure he was OK before I said, "You can go if you don't tell anyone you saw me." The one most scared said, "I promise! I'm a preacher's son, so you can believe me. I won't tell!" I let them all go. A couple of weeks later, for the third time in a row, I found a group of three boys. This trip was very much like the first group. They were all eight or nine years old. One immediately said he'd pull his pants down, and the other two continued playing in the river a few feet away as if I wasn't there. As the boy pulled his pants down he asked, 'Are you a doctor?" I said I was and that some kids got sick after playing in the river at that park, so I was checking as many kids as I could. He pulled his pants and underwear down past his knees, very cooperative, I didn't have to pull them down farther to get them out of the way. I don't recall if I touched him or not. Of all the boys I'd seen nude, I'd NEVER seen this. He must have noticed my reaction because he said, "Don't worry, I wasn't circumcised when I was born." All I remember was going home then realizing I had not molested him. He was playing with his friends when I had left. I got some deep heating rub (for sore muscles) out of my bathroom and went back. The boys were still there! Now 1 was going to "play doctor" with that one boy again — I took him aside and said I wanted him to pull his pants down again so I could put some ointment on it. I intended to find out what an uncircumcised penis looked like when erect — erection caused by me sucking on it of course (most ALL my victims got an erection when I sucked on their penises). But he wouldn't drop his pants again. I said I could rub it on his stomach (and my hand would then slide into his shorts) but he wouldn't let me do that either. He rubbed some ointment on himself and said it burned. I said if he'd pull down his pants, I could stop the burning. He said he was going to ask his dad about it. I said, "OK, don't tell him you saw me. You can wash it off in the water" and I left. I was upset with myself for not molesting him the first time when I already had his pants down. Again, the boys stayed at the park as I left indicating they weren't too upset or scared. As far as I know, none of these nine boys ever reported what had happened. Though only three pulled their pants down and two were molested, I had asked all nine of them, "which one will pull his pants down," and some of them watched the other being molested. They were ALL victims. In a period of five or six weeks I had nine new victims, making a total of 102-112 victims. 42) WHEN: October, 1980 WHERE: Richland AGE: 19 VICTIM(S): Two female victims There are several problems here, dates and memories all conflict with each other. According to the records that my trial attorneys found, I was charged by the Richland Police in case *C80-3418, Communication w/minor for Immoral Purposes, on October 18th, 1980. According to a letter I received from the Richland Police, Lt. Vern Bates, dated 3-11-92, this incident occurred three days later — on October 21, 1980.1 do no know why these dates are different nor do I believe either is correct. This is the case in which I attempted to get two girls, ages eleven and seven, into my car. I admitted to police that I wanted to take them to an isolated area at the river, several miles away, so I could molest them. I was never 'booked', never went to jail. I confessed and went home. When I joined the Navy 11 MONTHS later, my dad asked me what I intended to do about the charge against me. It was eleven months after I was charged and I'd never seen a courtroom, attorney — NOTHING. That's why I'm not sure the dates are correct — was this charge outstanding for 11 months? I never did anything about the charges, never went to court, no warrant was ever filed for my arrest. I assume Dad told them I was joining the Navy and they decided to drop the charges. (I wrote all about how I attempted to get these girls in my car in the other history I wrote — these are the ones I had brief thoughts of leaving in the middle of nowhere to die.) RECAP: These two girls raised my total number of victims to 104- 114 as of the end of October, 1980 at age 19. I had now been CAUGHT FIVE TIMES, reported to police only THREE TIMES, arrested TWICE confessing to eight known crimes, charged with only TWO crimes and NEVER prosecuted or convicted. The only two charges filed were dropped. I had been in counseling twice, once for a crime police knew about and once for one police did not know about, J—! 43) WHEN: December, 1980 WHERE: My apartment, Richland AGE: 19 VICTIMS: Two girls aged 13. I was halfway through my second year of student teaching the Jr. High band after I had graduated. I had a Christmas party at my apartment for some of the kids. It was a Friday night. There were about 10 kids there, and no other adults. Among them were KB— and RJ—, both thirteen year old eighth graders. During the party they said they had something they needed to talk to me about in private and took me into the bedroom and shut the door. KB— said "We're going to rape you." I said, "You are, huh?" I was surprised to say the least! They said, "Yup." I said something to the effect that it was getting late, I had to get some of the kids home — they could rape me when the rest were gone. (I'd have let them do what they wanted right then but I was afraid one of the other kids may come in and see what we were doing). We ALL got in my station wagon and I took them all home until just KB— and RJ— were left in my car. I asked if they wanted to come back to my place but it was now about 10:30 PM and RJ— was supposed to have been home 10, so she had to get home and KB— was spending the night with her. A couple of days later, two or three before Christmas, I called KB— and asked if she remembered what she and RJ— wanted to do to me at the party. She said, "No" — I asked her if she remembered going into the bedroom and she said, "You mean rape?" I said, "Yeah," and asked if she'd like to come over. It was about noon. She said she could come over about six after her parents left for a party. I went to the store where I worked and talked a co-worker into selling me a six-pack of beer (I was underage). (I knew KB — and RJ— both drank and smoked pot, they were both rather wild girls). I cleaned house and put clean sheets on my bed. I wasn't sure what KB— had in mind the night she said, "We're going to rape you," but I wanted everything clean and I'd let her decide what we'd do. She never showed up. She called the next morning and said she had had to go to her parent's party, and didn't know if she'd be able to come over another time or not. To this day, I don't know if she just couldn't come over, if she changed her mind or if she was ever serious about it to begin with. I didn't ask her again — if she did "want it" she knew where to find me. A day or two after that I saw RJ— when I was leaving the store after work. She lived only a couple blocks away and was at the store buying something. I asked if she'd like to come over. She went with me from the store straight to my house. I went into the bedroom to change out of my work clothes and came out before pulling my T-shirt on. I hadn't said anything to her about the "rape thing" and hoped if she saw me with my shirt off she might make the first move. I asked if she wanted a beer — no, she didn't. She asked if she could smoke some pot — sure — no, I didn't want any. I thought great, she'll get stoned and want to 'go to bed' with me! I don't remember much else — don't know if I brought up what she and KB— wanted to do at the party or not, but I THINK I just couldn't quite bring myself to ask her. Nothing happened between us. (Of course, the girls never reported anything). SPECIAL NOTE: I now get an occasional letter from RJ—'s mom, who knew me from talking to me after concerts in which I led the band. I've also heard from RJ— a couple of times. I doubt she remembers the night she and KB— wanted to rape me. Because of the way things happened, I don't know whether to call KB — and RJ— "MY" victims or not. I certainly TRIED to take advantage of them, so I'll call them victims. This brings my total to 106-116 VICTIMS between the spring of 1975 and December, 1980, a period of about 4 years, seven months. 44) WHEN: Summer, 1981 WHERE: Richland and Benton City AGE: 19 or 20 VICTIMS: One boy — 8 or 9 yrs. and one boy, age 10 This is the summer (as best as I can recall) that I found a boy at the park where I'd molested the others (#41), took him to get his inner tube from his aunt's house, then took him to a very isolated spot on the river, hoping to get him to engage in skinny dipping, then to molest him. This is the boy that told me in the car that his mom had warned him not to get in stranger's cars because they might kill him — I told him that I was a lifeguard and he had to admit he didn't know any strangers with the phony name I gave him (in case he later reported me). He didn't want to skinny dip when I dared him to and I didn't push it. This is probably more in detail in my other history, basically I took him out of town without his parent's knowledge, hoping to molest him, then nothing happened. (This was the ten year old.) About this same time is when I found the boy in Benton City, about eight or nine year old. We were going to go camping. His parents were out of town. It was just him and his older sister, who happened to know MY sister. I spent the night at the boy's house, sleeping with him on his parent's waterbed and attempted to molest him as he slept, but wasn't able to do it. I have written previously of this even in more detail. (This is one of the boys I mentioned when writing about how easy it would have been to kill some of my earlier victims if I had wanted to do so.) This brings me up to 108-118 victims. 45)WHEN: Late summer, 1981 WHERE: Benton City AGE: 20 VIC-TIMS: XY—, age seven, ZY—, age 10, Cousin S— again, age 11 This is when I tried to molest XY— while filling the swimming pool, then later took him and his brother ZY— swimming, ZY— and I wrestled nude in the mud and ZY— wanted to butt fuck me. Again, these details are in my previous history. A few days later, my cousin S— had come to stay for a few days. I peeked through the keyhole in the bathroom door and watched him use the bathroom — happily surprised when he stood and turned partway toward the door. I tried to see his ass as he wiped — I got a clear view of his genitals! I tried talking him into playing strip poker — he wouldn't but agreed to help me when I saw XY— and ZY— walking down the driveway. S— took some of his clothes off, I stripped to my underwear. We'd make XY— and ZY— THINK we were playing and I hoped to talk them into joining us. If they played, S— would also play. (Maybe we'd play teams — losing team had to give each other a blow job.) I answered the door in my underwear, told the two boys what S— and I were doing and they followed me into the bedroom. They were willing to watch me and S— finish our game. S— and I played one hand — I lost. Instead of taking off my underwear, I asked if the boys wanted to play, also — they didn't — S— and I dressed and we all went outside. S— was a repeat victim, XY— and ZY— were new, bringing me to 110-120 victims — about half of which had been exposed to, quarter been molested and a quarter attempted molest victims. BACKTRACK NOTE: Something else happened sometime during the summer of 1980 (before or after the camp in July — age 18 or 19. I just remembered this occurred while I lived in my first apartment — summer of '80). Back to the river park in Richland. This is when I went up to a ten year old preparing a raft to float down the river on, tried to get him to follow me into the bushes and he wouldn't go — I said "OK, we'll do it right here then, pull your pants down." He said, "You're not going to cut my dick off!" I said I just wanted to look and suck on it. I wasn't going to cut it off or hurt him. I don't know why he thought I was going to cut it off. (I had no intention or desire to hurt him in any way.) I ended up letting him go. This is more in detail in my previous history. (This ups my total to 112-122 victims) 46) WHEN: Sometime during summer of 1980-81. WHERE: Parking lot at work. VICTIMS: None of my own. I can't remember exactly when this happened. I was coming out of the store where I worked and saw a boy on a bike (maybe 13-14 years old) looking into a car where a young girl suddenly saw me and pulled her shirt back down. Obviously the boy had asked the girl to show her chest (she was maybe seven or eight). This is the boy I fantasized about blackmailing — have sex with me or I'll report you for what you did with the girl. This is all in more detail in one of my previous letters. (I didn't talk to either kid and NOTHING ever HAPPENED, just something I saw. SOMEONE ELSE committing a sex crime and I fantasized about it.) 47) WHEN: Exact date unknown Summer, 1980 or '81 WHERE: Richland and W Richland VICTIMS: Three boys 7-10 I had found a boy about eight or nine in West Richland and he went with me on a raft trip. I said something about skinny dipping and he said "dare me to?" I suggested waiting until we got to a part of the river that houses didn't overlook the river so no one else would see him. He had been all ready to take his swim trunks off, but 1 wanted an isolated area knowing that if he was willing to skinny dip — be nude in front of me — 1 could suck his penis, too. When we got to an isolated area he no longer wanted to skinny dip. I'd blown my chance. I think he became a little suspicious when I wanted an area where no one else could see us. Other incidents I can't honestly put into the proper summer but know they happened one after the other, is when I found a boy at the park in Richland, made him take his shirt off without telling him why then told him to pull his pants down. He said, "I don't know how I'm going to get out of this one," and suddenly I heard and saw some older kids heading in our direction so I let the boy go. Later, angry that I'd let him go instead of taking him to another part of the park, I went and found a seven year old pushing his bike and when he refused, I moved his hands to his sides and told him to leave them there. I pulled his pants down and immediately began sucking his penis. This was the first time I ever FORCED a boy that had said no. Again, this is in much greater detail in my previous writings. (This adds up to 115-125 victims.) RECAP: By the time I joined the Navy in September of 1981 at age 20, I had as many as 115-125 VICTIMS. There could very well be some molestations, attempted molestations or exposures that I don't recall in addition to the 115-125 that I do remember. I had been CAUGHT five times but reported to police only 3 TIMES. I was ARRESTED only 2 TIMES confessing to eight known crimes (seven crimes my first arrest, one crime my second arrest). I had been charged with only ONE crime at each arrest (C2099, and C80-3418). Though CHARGED with a single crime in March of 1977 and one in October, 1980, the charges were dropped — I was never prosecuted, never saw a courtroom. I had been in counseling two times, once after confessing seven crimes to police at the time of my first arrest and once after J— told our secret, which, of course, the police were not told about. 48) WHEN: November, 1981-June, 1982 WHERE: Navy AGE: 20 VICTIMS: One girl about six. 13 or 14 boys 2-10 I have previously written everything I did while in the Navy, and can think of nothing new to add now. I do have exact dates for two of the crimes which I'll get to later. For now, a listing of my crimes while in the Navy without the details: I had watched two boys who were alone at the swimming pool on the Submarine base in Groton, Conn, in Nov. or Dec. 1982.1 didn't even talk to them or make an actual attempt to molest them, so I don't count them as victims (they didn't even see me in the shower, so no exposing either). I do have many other victims, most likely between February, 1982 (after settling into the routine at Bremerton). During this time, three or four (six to ten years old) watched as I pushed a straight pin into my penis in the restroom at a Bremerton theatre. I found a 10 year old boy alone on the ferry — molested him in a fast food restaurant's restroom, took him to see a movie — he wanted to know why I was being so nice to him (he had let me suck his dick for a couple minutes — now I was trying to buy his friendship, hoping he would let me do it again sometime!) I took two small boys (about two and four years old) from a street corner and molested the four year old, completely stripping him out behind a dentist's office. He TOLD ME "put your mouth on it!" I asked the younger one to strip also, he didn't want to, I didn't force him. I masturbated a five or six year old in the restroom of the base bowling alley — fingers in each other's butts, oral sex, co-masturbation, giving him quarters for video games. I approached a boy and girl (about seven year old boy and six year old girl) at the Bremerton ferry terminal and let the boy know I wanted to molest him. (I don't recall my actual words). I had asked three boys on the Seattle waterfront "you guys want to see my dick?" They told a ferry worker, who told me to leave the boys alone. I kept a close watch on an arcade in Bremerton hoping to find victims there. Then, probably in April or early May of 1982, I offered money to two boys (both about 10) on base for various sex acts. They reported it and pointed me out to base security the next day. I confessed and was transferred off the sub into the Squadron Offices but no legal action was taken on the sex crime. This gives me fourteen or fifteen victims in the first half of 1982, all while in the Navy — giving me a total of at least 129, and possibly (probably) 140. It is safe to say I had between 130-140 victims by May of 1982, and probably more, since I continue to recall other crimes. In addition to the totals of my last recap, I had now been caught by the ferry worker in Seattle (but police were not called) and I'd been caught by military authorities but no legal action taken. But, more crimes were committed while I was in the Navy, which I also wrote about before, but for which I now have exact dates. Almost forgot. During this same period of time, a woman approached me as I was getting off the ferry in Seattle — wanting me to come to her place, showed me pictures of her son . .. ! I wasn't sure if she was lonely and would do anything, including using her son to get company, if she was offering herself for money for sex, then offering her son for sex when I wasn't interested in her, or if it was a set-up to rob a sailor on payday. I believe she was looking for sex and offering her son also meant she needed money and either she or her son could "earn it." This too I wrote previously in more detail. I walked away from her. 49) WHEN: May, 1982 WHERE: Seattle AGE: 20 VICTIMS: Four boys, ages 9-10 This is when I offered four boys $50.00 each to go to a motel with me to play strip poker. I was arrested by police at Seattle Center and con-fessed my intentions. I bailed out of jail. Records show the disposition date was May 17, 1982. When I showed up for court I learned the charges had been dropped. I had been caught, arrested, confessed, charged — then I got away with the crime involving four more victims. RECAP: Things start getting confusing, so here's yet another recap. As of May 17, 1982 I had 134-144 victims. I had been caught six times, I had been reported to police only four times and arrested only three times. At my three arrests, I confessed to a total of nine crimes known by police (seven and my first arrest), each crime involving two to four children each. Of nine known crimes, I'd been charged with only three, and all three charges were dropped. I was NEVER prosecuted. I had gotten away with EVERY ONE of my crimes. It was very clear to me that the authorities did not care that I was exposing myself or attempting to molest kids over and over and over again! (I'm not sure if any of the actual molestations had ever been reported to police — I think N— was the ONLY molest victim who reported me and even then POLICE were NOT called).I had been in counseling twice, once after my first arrest and once after N— told her mom and my dad about "our secret." All of this — ten known crimes — nine of which the police were aware — maybe 25 to 30 kids involved and I was NEVER punished IN ANY WAY. 50) WHEN: June 6, 1982 WHERE: Richland - while on Liberty AGE: 20 VICTIM: Six year old male I learned on May 17th that the Seattle charges had been dropped — I had to celebrate. I found a boy in Richland that I would "celebrate" with — I tried to get him to pull his pants down and was ready to put my hand up the leg of his shorts against his will when his aunt started calling him. I ran off. Unknown to me at the time, police were called. Records show that an arrest warrant was issued TWO MONTHS LATER on August 11, 1982. The details of this attempted crime are in my previous history (This brings me to 135-145 victims.) NOTE: I spent July of 1982 at Music Camp but had no opportunity to molest anyone. I was picked up by shore patrol at the camp and taken to the brig for unauthorized absence. I was discharged from the Navy in early December, 1982. I was 21 years old, had as many as 145 victims and intended to continue molesting. My chief warned me not to go to Richland because they had a warrant for my arrest. I went to Benton City, knowing that if I didn't get stopped for traffic, the police WOULD NOT know I was back in the area. 51) WHEN: Early December, 1982 WHERE: W. Richland, Benton City AGE: 21 VICTIMS: No victims Right after my discharge, I got a job working as a dishwasher in a Richland restaurant. Getting off about 1 a.m. one night, I spotted two hitchhikers as I was passing through W. Richland on my way to Benton City where I lived. I picked them up — two girls, one about 8-9 and the other about 13. They were going to Seattle. I dropped them off on the highway at the turnoff into Benton City and went home. Figuring the girls were runaways, I changed clothes, filled up my gas tank and a thermos of coffee and was back to where I'd left them only twenty to twenty-five minutes earlier. It was not likely they'd get another ride on that highway at that time of night — no traffic. I was going to pick them up and take them to Seattle, invite them to stay with me in a motel outside of Seattle, then take them to where they claimed an aunt lived. But, I drove as far as the next town and could not find them. I was hoping I could make some-thing happen, maybe as a way of them thanking me for the ride on a cold night. 52) WHEN: Early-Mid December, 1982 WHERE: Benton City AGE: 21 VICTIM: M—, Not a new victim — new crime on a repeat victim. Refer to recap notes of Incident *30.1 had stopped molesting M— only because he and N— moved out of state with their mother, i pretty much forgot about him, not expecting to see him again. One day while driving through Benton City, I saw him walking down the street. I stopped and talked to him, he had moved back to his dad's in Benton City, his mom was still out of state. My mom and step-dad were out of town for the weekend, so I had the house all to myself. Would M— like to come out for the night, watch TV, play some games . .. ? Sure, his dad was gone also, just him and his older brother home alone. M— got in the car, I took him to his house to pick up the things he needed and we went out to my place. I intended to play the same games we'd played almost five years earlier. I normally would not go near a boy thirteen years old, but I had learned from H— (incident #40) that some kids that age didn't yet have pubic hair. In addition, I had done quite a bit with M— before, so I was quite comfortable with him regardless of his age. He was a pretty good-looking kid — a bit small for his age. It didn't occur to me that M— would no longer want to do what he did with me when he was only eight — five years earlier. We started to play poker. After a few hands, I suggested putting away the chips and playing strip poker. I was not interested. I reminded him of all the things we used to do. He said I was too much better at poker than him. I said we'd just draw cards — low card had to remove a piece of clothing. He finally, reluctantly agreed to play — when I said I would strip completely but he only had to strip to his underwear. The loser had to run around the house — he in his underwear and me nude — there was snow on the ground so shoes could be worn to protect the feet. We each lost a couple of games. (We lived out of town — the house in the middle of eight acres of land — nearest neighbor about a mile away — we could run around the house without being seen by anyone else.) I finally complained that it wasn't fair that I had to strip and he could have his underwear on — he said I could have mine on too. Again, he finally, reluctantly did what I wanted — he ran around the house naked, while I watched, but he kept his back to me whenever possible — like when dressing or undressing. He did not want to do this and was hiding his genitals as much as possible. Next time he lost, he complained that it was too cold outside without his underwear. I gave him an option — outside or ten pushups. He chose pushups, pulling his underwear off and getting down on the floor, keeping his back to me the whole time. I got down on the floor and peeked under him watching his genitals while he did the pushups. At one point while playing cards, I asked if he wanted to see me put the inside of an ink pen into my dick. He said no. He definitely would not watch that. When I had lost a few hands and was down to my underwear, I went to "use the bathroom." I already had an erection, so I just pushed an ink canister all the way into my penis then pulled my underwear back up. I lost the next hand and stood to pull off my underwear. I told M— to watch — he said he was not going to watch me put a pen in. I said, "It's already inside — I did it in the bathroom — just watch." I made him watch as I pulled back the skin around the opening so the pen would start "oozing out." When enough of the pen had come out on it's own, I asked R— if he wanted to pull it out — NO! But he did give in enough to watch me pull it out. NO — he didn't want to try it himself and he didn't want to put it back into me, either. At bedtime, we used the bunk beds in my room. I let him use the top bunk. I had a hidden reason for that. We both stripped to our underwear and I watched M— climb into the top bunk. I don't recall the exact conversation, but 1 must have asked him if he had ever masturbated. I didn't know if he had discovered masturbation or not, or if he was capable of ejaculating, so I asked him about it — because I suggested a masturbation contest. First one to ejaculate was the winner. He didn't want to, so once again 1 talked him into doing what I wanted. He gave in by sighing and saying, "give me a Kleenex." We stripped. He sat cross-legged on the upper bunk. I stood beside the bunk and we started masturbating (I already had an erection, so 1 let him make himself "hard" before we started). After a brief period of time, he said he couldn't do it with me watching because I made him nervous. I told him to keep going. He finally said, "I can't do it." Surprisingly, I couldn't either, so we gave up. (I had expected to easily win the contest. I thought masturbating while watching him masturbate would excite me and speed my climax, but it didn't happen). I told M—, "I know a way I can get you to cum, want me to do it?" He declined my offer. I was going to do oral sex on him. I didn't force him. I was GOING to do it to him while he slept, anyway. "We" went to sleep, only I stayed awake! He was on the top bunk because it was level with the center of my abdomen. I could stand on the floor and be comfortable while my head and arms went under M—'s sheet and blankets. I held a small penlight flashlight in my mouth so I could see him. I slid under the covers. I didn't want to pull the covers off him for fear that it would wake him. This way, there would be no movement of the blankets, changing the weight on his body and exposing him to the cool air. Also by leaving the blankets over him, it kept the light out of his eyes. It was a dark room — room light would shine in his eyes — flashlight under the blankets wouldn't. With the light in my mouth I very carefully and slowly tried to pull down the front of his underwear, then decided that for the least amount of movement it would be best to simply open the fly of his underwear. All the rubbing gave him an erection fairly quickly, making it even harder to pull his penis out. By the time his penis was out of the fly, he was fully erect. I looked at him closely and noticed for the first time that he had a very short growth of pubic hair on his groin (what I could see through his fly), but not enough that I would get hair in my mouth. I remember thinking that he had the biggest (longest) dick I'd ever seen, he'd be the oldest I'd ever sucked, and "Oh god, he's got a good one!," and "this is going to be great!." I suddenly wished I'd brought a cup into the room — so I could spit in it if M— ejaculated while I was sucking on his penis — well, I'd have to hold it in my mouth until I could get to the bathroom. Then, just as my open mouth moved down towards his wonderful penis, he moved suddenly, I pulled back and as I pulled out from under his blankets he was already putting his penis back inside his underwear. I made two more unsuccessful attempts that night, never getting even as far as I did the first time. I could have made him submit to oral sex, but I just couldn't MAKE him go that far with me. I know he'd have never reported it — I had reminded him that he had LIKED all the things we'd done five years earlier and that he himself had made the first move by trying to pull MY pants down. That whole night I was blackmailing him with his own memories of what we'd done years earlier. I could have forced oral sex on him without fear of being reported and I knew it, but I didn't do it. I took M— home the next morning and he was talking about us getting together again sometime, but NO strip poker. So — he was still my friend! I intended to USE him again sometime, but about two months later I moved out of the area and never saw him again. 53) WHEN: December 25, 1982 WHERE: Benton City Elem. School AGE: 21 VICTIM: One 8-9 year old boy I had worked an early shift on X-mas day, and as I drove by the school on my way home after work I saw some kids playing there. I went home, changed clothes, and drove back to the school. I saw an 11 or 12 year old girl on roller-skates and an 8 or 9 year old boy on a skateboard. By the time I had parked my car, the girl had disappeared — that was fine — that left only one kid instead of two to worry about, it was the youngest (easier to control if need-be), and it was the boy which I now preferred anyway. I asked if he wanted to see a trick, he said, "Sure!" I said, "Let's go over by the building," (into an area that would give us more privacy) — he wanted to know why. I explained my "pen in the penis" trick. He said, "I can't. I have to go home now." He wasn't scared, but he was nervous and would have become very scared if I pushed him at all, so I said, "It's OK. I'm not going to make you watch or do anything. You can stay here. I'm leaving. I didn't scare you too much, did I?" He said, "No." I said, "OK, just don't tell anyone you saw me," and I left. 54) WHEN: December 29, 1982 WHERE: Benton City school AGE: 21 VICTIMS: Two boys about 6-8. I decided to go back to the school to see if other kids were playing with their new Christmas toys. I found two boys and one of them went with me to watch me push a "pen into my dick." (I had told them both what I could do — only one wanted to see it). The boy watched me, and I had just talked him into pulling his pants down so I could "make his big" (give him an erection), but — "No, you don't have to put it in." (He was afraid of getting hurt with the pen.) Before he could pull his pants down, I saw the other boy coming with a man, presumably their father. The man got my car license number. The next day, December 30, 1982, Benton City Police arrested me for the incident in Benton City on the 29th. Benton City also arrested me on the Richland warrant of Communicating with Minor, age 6 (see incident *50). I don't recall exactly what Benton City charged me with and it's not on the records I have. For the first time ever 1 was prosecuted and the Benton City charge was almost identical to the Richland charge, even though I had shown the boy in Benton City my "trick" and the Richland boy did not see that or anything else. Though the Benton City incident was much more serious, it was charged about the same as the Richland charge. In addition, the more serious Benton City charge was dropped in a plea bargain! I was sentenced to 180 days in jail, 140 suspended — I sat in jail only 17 DAYS! When I got out of jail, I moved to Lewiston, Idaho. *An interesting note! Six year olds are off-limits! The boy in incident #14 was about six years old. The boys in incident #s 50 and 54 were both six and I was prosecuted for both of them. It was a six year old in Seattle I went to jail for and it was a six year old in Camas who stopped me. RECAP: By the time I moved to Idaho in late January, 1983,1 had 138-148 VICTIMS. In addition to being caught but not charged with a crime by the military, I had been caught EIGHT TIMES, reported to police SIX TIMES and arrested FOUR TIMES. In those 4 arrests, I confessed to a total of eleven KNOWN CRIMES, I was charged for only FIVE CRIMES. Three of those charges were dropped before they got to court. One was dropped in a plea bargain. Out of 11 known crimes, I was CONVICTED ON JUST ONE charge — the LEAST serious of all my charges! Then only 17 DAYS in jail! I entered counseling for the third time. NOW — 138 to 148 victims, and police only knew of eleven crimes. That was pretty good odds!! Most of my crimes went unreported. Then I was convicted on only one of eleven known crimes — I had gotten away with 90.9% of my KNOWN crimes. Only 17 days in jail with 11 known crimes? I could get away with anything! I was convicted of communicating w/a minor, just one of almost 150 victims! There was NO WAY I was going to stop molesting kids! I would just have to be more careful about approaching kids I did not know. I sure wished I had someone like M— again! When I moved to Idaho, I found a boy — H who I knew wouldn't report me, even IF he knew what I'd done to him! (I'd molest him in his sleep and do what he'd let me do while he WAS awake! 55) WHEN: March, 1983 to March, 1984 WHERE: Lewiston and Clarkston AGE: 21-22 VICTIMS: Two nine year old boys. I repeatedly molested H— and his friend, V— as 1 wrote previously. When H— reported me for molesting him (sucking his penis) in two different states, I was charged in both states, but prosecuted only in Idaho. I served only four months of a 10 year sentence. Once again I had gotten away with my crimes! (H— had reported only two of SEVERAL incidents, I was prosecuted for only one — and just four months on work release!) (H— reported me only after I had gone to jail for not continuing counseling on my first conviction. I did 23 days in jail for probation violation.) I now had 140 to 150 victims and four of them had been repeatedly molested — probably 50 crimes against M— alone. 1 started counseling for the fourth time — and kept molesting! I LIKED what I was doing — most of my victims never reported it and some even liked it, and obviously the courts didn't care what I was doing. 1 had sucked H—'s penis without even asking him. He had no choice. One state ignored it and the other state gave me only four months on work release! It was almost as good as a license to molest! (Plus — 23 days in jail for not continuing counseling after my first conviction, and since this jail time was not for a new crime, I still had only two convictions.) 56) WHEN: Summer, 1983 WHERE: Clarkston AGE: 21-22 VICTIM: Nine to 10 year old boy At work one day (a convenience store), I had only one person, a salesman, in the store when a 9 or 10 year old boy came in, one I suspected as a shoplifter. 1 watched him. I thought I saw him pick up some candy bars, didn't see him put them back and he didn't have them when he came to the counter. I asked him about the candy, saying I saw him pick some up. I would have been satisfied if he just said he didn't have them. I noticed no pockets on his sweat pants and could see no bulges around his ankles indicating candy in his socks. The boy became very scared. All I'd done was calmly ask "Didn't you have some candy in your hand?" His reaction indicated that maybe he HAD taken something and was afraid because he might be facing big trouble for stealing. What I did not expect was the boy's next move — he said he didn't, "take anything, honest! See?" He then pulled out the front of his sweat pants so I could see there was nothing in his pants. If he was wearing underwear, he had pulled them open, too, I didn't notice. All I noticed was I was looking right at the boy's genitals. He held his pants open just a couple seconds, long enough to show me there was no candy in his pants. I had not asked him to empty pockets or anything like that — pulling his pants open was solely HIS idea. If the salesman had not been there, I'd have given the boy his choice — be reported to police for suspected shoplifting or let me search him in the back room. It would have been a strip search and if he was not willing to LET me molest him, (as some kids had been in the past — some were experimenting or playing a "game"), I'd have blackmailed him. As it was, I let him go. If he'd come into the store when no one else was there and he had opened his pants showing me his genitals, he WOULD have been molested. But he was lucky — that salesman there was a fluke — he normally did not work weekends — except for him, 1 had seen no one all morning! The boy did not know it, but he was a victim. He had exposed himself to me to prove he had no candy. I saw his genitals, fantasized about blackmailing him if necessary, and hoped I'd see him again when 1 had no one in the store. This brings me to 141-151 victims. (This had occurred during the period of time I was molesting H— and V—.). 57) WHEN: November — December, 1984 WHERE: Lewiston AGE: 23 VICTIMS: None I was arrested for molesting H— on June 17, 1984.1 was released until my sentencing hearing on Aug. 10, 1984. During that time, I rode my bicycle all over town looking for a kid to molest. I even tried to find V— alone but found no one. I wanted to "get all I could" before my sentencing hearing because I knew I would be in jail and it would be a while before I could molest again. I was in jail from August 1 until about December 1st — four months in jail. In November of 1984, the court clerk called me down from the jail to his office. He had a job for me if I wanted it. I took the job. A foreign guy had bought an old tavern and was converting it into a restaurant. I worked until about five pm every day. His seven year old son and six year old daughter came to the restaurant after school instead of going home. I watched the good looking boy closely, hoping to follow him into the restroom. I was STILL IN JAIL, out on work release and trying to molest a boy. I never got an opportunity to approach the boy so nothing happened. I knew he also had a two year old son. I'd seen him when his wife came to get the older kids and take them home. He kept me on as a cook when the restaurant opened at the end of November. Just a few days later I was released from jail. On New Year's Eve, Dec. 31, 1984, he and his wife took me out drinking (I was sick for three days after that.) I had gone home with him when we closed the restaurant — so we sat at his place for about an hour before going out. The two-year old was taking a bath when we arrived, then was brought into the living room to be dried off, but he wasn't dressed until we were ready to leave. For about a half an hour, I watched that two-year old playing and running while he was naked. I tried not to stare, but his penis was huge! Two-years old and a penis bigger than I had seen on H— and M the two 13 year olds! This little guy's penis hung down probably two and a half inches. H—'s penis hung down maybe an inch, of course, we had been swimming in cold water which makes penises retract, and at thirteen, M—'s fully erect penis was maybe three inches long. I decided right then that somehow, someday soon, I WOULD get a hold of that two year old and suck that huge penis — I wanted to see it ERECT! Maybe I could baby-sit — they always needed a baby-sitter! But before I could make anything happen, I quit my job at the restaurant without notice and never saw them again. I could NOT stand working with the owner and the possibility of getting to molest the two-year old and the other kids was not worth putting up with him at work — (the two-year old was not circumcised — I wondered about the seven-year old — maybe these foreigners don't circumcise any of their kids. The two-year old had a huge penis, maybe the seven-year old did also. I'd seen the two-year old, which really made me want him, but I'd try the seven-year old, too. Quitting my job instead of sticking around so I could be close to two boys I wanted to molest should tell you just HOW BAD the job was!!! 58) WHEN: August, 1985 WHERE: Clarkston AGE: 24 VICTIMS: One boy, age 7. Four girls, ages 3 to 8 This is most likely the time I baby-sat a co-worker's boy and girl and three other girls. As I wrote in detail previously, I had seen the boy in the bathtub and hoped the parents would leave, leaving me to get him dressed. After the kids were asleep, I attempted to molest them all, but was unable to for fear of waking them up and being reported. A couple weeks later, I took the boy camping. I found out he had no underwear and he didn't care that I could see his privates because we were both boys. I molested him as he slept — all he was wearing was a T-shirt, so it was very easy (he slept on his back — I didn't have to pull underwear down or touch him in any way that might wake him — just put my mouth on his penis). I can't remember ever being as excited by a boy's erection as I was that night. I just couldn't get enough of him!!! 1 wanted to play with it, suck it, hold it, rub it on my face — I even tried to stick it up one side of my nose. I wanted to hold him close. I lusted for him — feelings I had never had before. I had a continual erection ALL that night and ALL the next day. When we went hiking, I let him lead — it would be more fun for him, he could decide where we went, — and, I could watch his butt while we walked. We had a busy day, intentionally, and we stayed up late. I wanted him exhausted so he'd sleep very deeply. He wore his pants to bed that night. But, they were a bit big for him — it was easy to unsnap, unzip and pull back enough to expose his genitals so I could suck his penis again. I didn't want to pull the pants down for fear that the pants being pulled down may wake him. But he turned over. His genitals were exposed, so his pants were no longer under him. I wanted him BAD, wanted to suck and play with his genitals all night again. But I didn't want to wake him up by turning him over. I pulled his pants back off his butt. I spread his butt-cheeks to look at his anus. I realized I could have my seven-year old sexpot another way other than sucking on his penis. I carefully pulled his pants back a little more, enough to expose his crotch, then for the first time ever, I simulated intercourse. As I got down over him and slid my penis into his crotch, I was being very VERY careful not to wake him — it felt so good I didn't want to have to stop. BUT, it felt so GOOD — all of a sudden I didn't care — if he woke up I'd keep going anyway, and warn him not to tell. I let my groin rest lightly on his butt, my stomach on his back, and put a hand under him and cupped his genitals. I moved at a speed comfortable to me, no longer worried about the rubbing in his crotch waking him up. I'd never felt so good and I wanted to "suck and fuck" him (or another boy) again! This is what I had been looking for all these years! And if I could find a boy that would let me do it to him while he was awake, it would be even better. To hug and hold a naked boy, do oral sex on him — then simulate intercourse, my penis in his crotch from front or back. I decided to try him when he was awake. I took him "fishing" for a day. I couldn't get him to go skinny dipping or get his clothes off any other way. I made him watch me masturbate, then talked him into pulling his pants down so I could masturbate him. I wanted to rub, then suck him until I was ready to "fuck" him, but he was near tears, so I only rubbed his penis a couple seconds and stopped. (This boy and the girls bring me to 146-156 victims.) I wrote all about camping with the boy in my other history, but my sexual lust for HIM was so strong, I thought I'd go over it again briefly. From then on, I wanted to do those things with any and every boy I could find — I would see a boy and think "suckable and/or fuckable." That boy was the stepping stone from just sucking a boy's penis whenever I could to a deep desire to do actual oral sex on a boy and then simulate intercourse with him. 59) WHEN: Probably late August, 1985 WHERE: Enterprise, Or AGE: 24 VICTIMS: No Victims I was working for a vacuum cleaner company as Cashier/Service Manager. The Sales Manager (my friend) was taking two salesmen on a "road trip." Records showed there were company owners in the area, and we hoped to gain a few more. Since those towns were so far from a company office, I went along to do repairs and maintenance on any brand of vacuum cleaner we might find in need of my services. (I was trained to rebuild ALL kinds of vacuum cleaner or shampooer motors). Instead of renting a motel, we stayed at a nearby campground. That evening, as we were all sitting around talking, a very scared little boy came up to us asking if we knew where the theatre was. The campground had an amphitheater where rangers showed nature films on an outdoor screen. The boy had apparently left his parent's camp and tried to find the amphitheater on his own. It was dark and he had become disoriented. He was lost and scared. The female 'salesman' of our group, along with me, took the boy to the amphitheater and made sure he was with his aunt and uncle before we left him. He was a very good-looking boy and reminded me of the boy in *58 — In fact, he was about the same size and age as him. All I could think was wishing I had been camping ALONE when that boy asked for help. Scared and alone, 1 would have led him out of the camp to an isolated area instead of out of camp to the amphitheater. I would have stripped him, sucked his penis and pulled my own pants down enough to simulate intercourse or make him do oral on me, which is something I wanted to experience. I'd then make sure he knew which direction to go so the trail would take him back to the campground, where he could ask someone else for help in finding the amphitheater. I would warn him not to tell anyone what had happened. (No one would have noticed him missing — his parents thought he was with his aunt and uncle, and his aunt and uncle would assume he was still with his parents). To be on the safe side, I'd leave the boy naked — telling him to not get dressed until I was out of sight. By the time he got dressed and back to the campground, I'd be on the highway. Fortunately for that boy, I wasn't alone — this was all fantasy and PLANNING — in case this ever happened again, because I OFTEN went camping alone. But, I was not alone. That did not necessarily stop me! I had also noticed who was in the camp spot next to ours that same evening. A few adults and two boys — 8 to 10 years old. Two campers and one tent. I watched, hoping. My hopes were realized — the two boys were sleeping in the tent, ALONE. The door to that tent was NOT facing either of the campers, but WAS facing the campsite I was in. I was sleeping in the van with my boss/friend and his wife. I'd wait until one or two in the morning, slip out of the van, sneak over to that tent and quietly and carefully enter. It was a warm night, the boys probably would not notice their sleeping bag pulled back. Only then would I know whether they were sleeping in their pants or not. Hopefully, I'd just have to pull down their underwear but I'd pull down pants and underwear if I had to, but all that extra movement increased the risk of waking one or both of them. If they were both sleeping on their backs, I'd suck both boys' penises. If one was on his back and one on his stomach, I'd suck the penis of the one, then simulate intercourse, I called it ("crotch fucking") with the one whose genitals I couldn't get at. If both were on their stomachs, I'd crotch fuck the one easiest to get the pants off of. I woke up about 2:30 a.m. — and chickened out! I was afraid of waking my boss and his wife if I got out of the van — they would see me enter the tent. Also, 1 wasn't sure how the boys would react if they woke up. Two screaming boys would definitely wake up half the campground! So, I filed all these hopes, fantasies and plans in the back of my mind. Perhaps in the future I could carry out what I failed to do with all three of these boys. I would go camping alone many times and I'd watch for kids alone in tents or kids walking the trails alone, like the lost boy. Author's Comment: I know that the backtracking and initials can be confusing at times, but don't give up, stay with it! -LS 60) WHEN: Probably January, 1985 WHERE: Lewiston AGE: 23 VICTIMS: None I've got to backtrack — this should have been between incidents #57 and 58. Shortly after my release from jail, but while still working at the specialty restaurant, I had a date. I don't remember her name, so to simplify things I will call her T—. During the time I was molesting H—, I lived with H— and his mother for a while. She was about 12 to 13 years older than me and had a lot of younger friends. Among these friends of hers were T— and her boyfriend — both my age. T— became pregnant and the boyfriend 'disappeared'. H—'s mother and I were talking about it and she told me that T — had commented on my nice face and "cute butt." To set up the picture, I should now say that the County Jail and Sheriff's Dept. were BOTH on the 3rd floor of the courthouse. As a trustee, I was always emptying garbage, etc. This gave me a lot of contact not only with the only jailer on duty (small jail — one jailer at all times) but with the Sheriff's Dept. dispatchers as well. The dispatchers had to double their duties and assist in booking people into the jail. I was on a first name basis and got along real well with all the dispatchers. When I got out of jail, I remembered what H—'s mother had told me — it was obvious to her that T— really liked me. I gave T— a call and asked her out to a movie. She said yes. In the back of my mind was the fact that T — now had a baby BOY. It occurred to me that I might get to molest the boy someday, but that's not my main reason for asking T— out. According to H —'s mother, T— liked my body (said I had a nice body, face, butt — everything). I hoped to get to know T— well enough to be able to have sex with her (she was beautiful!). I went to pick T— up — her mom was baby-sitting the baby. HER MOM was one of the Sheriff dispatchers! While that was a bit of a SHOCK to me, it caused no problems — she, of course, knew why I had been in jail, but she was very friendly, telling us to have a good time, etc. BUT, 1 had no idea what to say, how to act, etc. We watched a movie and I took her home. We didn't talk much. In addition to not knowing what to talk about or how to act, 1 was afraid she'd think I thought she was "easy" because she had had a baby and obviously had "done it" with at least one other guy. All in all it was a miserable evening and I never saw her again. RECAP: After molesting 0— in August of 85,1 found no more victims (I found kids but could not approach them for various reasons) — I molested no more kids in the Lewiston/Clarkston area after 0—. According to a room-mate's diary, she and I moved to Kennewick on January 25th, 1986. By the time we moved to Kennewick I had 146-156 victims and though I didn't know it yet, I still had four years and three months of abuse to dish out before I would be permanently stopped. I had not been reported again since H—, so the stat's I reported are still the same. H— reported me AFTER the Benton County probation was over so they could not violate me on that. However, I went to jail for four months because of H—, and was still on probation when I molested 0— and tried to molest the girls whom I had baby-sat at the same time as 0—. Though my probation had ended the month before I moved to Kennewick, I was still in counseling in Lewiston. I was living with a female room-mate, which is the main reason I stayed in counseling when the court could no longer enforce it. IF I was in counseling, she would THINK I was really trying to change and she wouldn't suspect me if things started happening in Kennewick! (It worked — when M— later told her that I had made him take his clothes off, she asked me about it and even though she knew I had molested H— and another boy previously, she believed ME when I denied doing anything with M—!) 61) WHEN: May, 1986 WHERE: Tri-Cities (Kennewick, Richland, W. Richland, Benton City) AGE: 24 VICTIMS: Five boys, 7-11 years old. I had been doing pretty good until I moved to Lewiston — molesting constantly — probably never went more than three or four months without a victim — (in the winter when I couldn't find victims) but N— and then M— had seen me through two winters and I managed to find victims in the winter while in the Navy. I always found a child or already had one available to me when I really "needed" to molest. Then when I got to Lewiston, I was lucky to find H— and V— who had kept me happy for another year. I last molested H— in March of 1984. The next child I was able to molest came along in August of 1985. That was a seventeen-month dry spell in which 1 tried unsuccessfully to find a new victim, hopefully one I could molest repeatedly, but a "one-time stand" would also do. Then I moved to Kennewick. By the spring of 1986, I'd had no new victims since O— nine months earlier. That was too long — I was NOT going to go another 17 month dry spell! I had had it TOO easy, TOO long. The last few years I had been able to repeatedly molest the same kids, and even in the Navy I didn't have to look very hard to find PLENTY of "one-time victims." But now I was going to have to go back to the old time-consuming searches for victims that I had used between my M — and my Navy days. I lived in Kennewick — so, I would commit no crimes there. I began driving to the river park in Richland and the school at Benton City where I'd been successful years earlier. I also kept an eye on the river at W. Richland where I had gone rafting with the one boy and another three had caught me skinny dipping. I watched places where 1 had found kids before. Then things started happening fast. 61 A) In May of 1986,1 was in the park along the river in Richland. In the past I had found three groups of three boys. Now, once again, I found a group of three boys, nine to ten year olds. With only one victim in the last two years, two months (0— nine months earlier), I was in DESPERATE NEED of "young cock." I HAD to have it! When I came across these three boys and saw they were all good looking boys, I decided NOT to use my old approach of, "I want one of you to pull your pants down." I also knew I wasn't going to just suck one penis for a couple seconds then let them all go. NO — I WAS going to suck every one of those dicks for at least five minutes each. I quickly devised a plan, then approached the boys, said 'Hi' and asked if they'd like to play a game. They did. I explained it would be a game to see who was the most daring and trusting (if you will remember, I used a "trust game" on V— the first time I molested him. I hoped to have same luck now). I lined them up with their backs to me saying that whoever let me go the farthest was the winner. I didn't tell them what the 'farthest' meant. From behind, I pulled up the first boy's shirt and he started to pull away. I said "Just trust me. I won't do anything you won't like." He let me pull up his shirt. I pulled it up just enough so it was out of the way of the waist of his pants. He wiggled a little as I reached around from behind and put my right hand on his stomach. I asked if he trusted me — he said yes. I slipped the fingertips of my hand under the waist of his pants and he pulled away. I said, "Just trust me and nothing will happen. You tell me when to stop and I'll stop. Whoever lets me go the farthest without stopping me is the winner." He turned his back and backed up to me again. I asked if I could use my left hand to pull his pants and underwear open just enough to get my other hand in —- he said I could. I reached into his pants with my left thumb and pulled out on the waistband of his underwear and pants, then started pushing my right hand down, settling my hand on his stomach then sliding it down his body as I stood behind, hoping peek in and see his genitals. He stopped me by the time my little finger reached the top of the band on his underwear — just the tips of my longer fingers were under but not past that waistband. The other two boys now knew what to expect and they held their shirts up out of my way. They both stopped me at about the same place the first boy did. I told them it was a "tie" — they were all willing to try again — each wanted to proved he was the bravest and most daring and TRUSTING (Great — maybe they'd each let me do everything 1 wanted to prove they were brave and daring!). The second time around I managed to look over their shoulders and get a quick glimpse of genitals on two of them, but still none let me get hand closer than an inch or so to his genitals. I told them it was another tie, and, "We'll have to try it again — come on, guys, who's the bravest?!" "We'll HAVE to try again," may have been a poor choice of words. One of them was getting suspicious and wanted to know what the winner got. He wouldn't accept "the winner proves he's the most daring and trusting," as an answer. I finally said, "The winner has to pull his pants down." They all took off running. (I had hoped they would each let me cup their genitals inside their pants, then I'd unsnap the pants of each boy, then unzip each boy's pants, pull back the flaps of each boy's pants hoping the SCORE would remain TIED and each one would let me do the next step. The pants would come down on each boy, the underwear and finally my open mouth would go slowly toward each boy's penis and if they were still playing the game, it would now be who would let me suck him the longest while all three stood there with pants down and who would pull his pants up first. But, THEY RAN!) I did not GET any young cock that day! I didn't get to suck, I didn't get to touch, all I got was a brief glimpse of two boys' genitals as I peeked over their shoulders and into their pants. It had been a good plan when you consider I only thought of it in the few seconds between finding the boy's and greeting them! If it had been only one boy and he had agreed to play my game to see how daring, brave and trusting he was, if he stopped me before my hand reached his genitals, I'd stop, ask "Do you want me to pull my hand out now?," and, regardless of his answer, since he is alone in an isolated area, I'd shove my hand down and cup his genitals before he knew what happened. Then, depending on whether or not he yelled or fought, keeping my right hand on his genitals, I would use my left hand to pull his pants down, then I'd turn him around and suck his penis. Whether or not he was submissive to having his dick sucked would determine if I tried to make him masturbate or suck me, or if I'd crotch-fuck him (if I was SURE no one else was in the area!). So, the day after those three ran from me, I went out looking for a boy by himself — I'd trick him with the game to get my arms around him from behind, then whether he wanted to "play" the rest of the "game" or not, if he didn't yell I would force him just as I did the little boy in incident #47 a few years earlier. (Even though 1 was considering force, I never once considered PHYSICALLY hurting a child). 61B) A few days later, hoping to find one boy so 1 could use force if necessary, I found two boys — both about ten. I said 'Hi', asked their names, and asked if they wanted to play a game to see which of them was the most daring. They wanted to play, but unlike the three boys of a few days earlier, they wanted to know ALL the rules BEFORE we started. I wanted these boys — I didn't want to lose them like I did the other three. They were both wearing swim trunks — they had nice legs, not skinny and not fat — and swim trunks meant no underwear underneath. Neither one had shirt or shoes. If they played the game, 1 could have two completely naked ten year olds on my hands! I explained that I would stand behind them and reach around to slide the fingertips of one hand under the waistband of their swim trunks and slowly move my hand down until they said stop, whoever let me move my hand farthest was the winner. They looked at each other and decided to play! I stood between them and had them both turn their backs to me — that way one couldn't "cheat by seeing how far the other one lets me go." I started with the cutest of the two, reminded him I would stop when he said stop, and that I would not do anything that would hurt and I wouldn't do anything he didn't want me to do. He let me move my hand down inside his swim trunks until one fingertip touched the little indent just above his penis but not actually touching the penis. I pulled my hand out, turned around and told the other boy it was his turn. But, now HE wanted to know what the winner got. I decided to go all the way and said whoever let me put "my hand all the way in and touch it, gets $5.00" They wanted to see the money first. I said I had it, but would not show it to them until they played the game — then I added, I'd give "$10.00 to whoever let me pull his swim trunks down." One said, "I'll do it but I want to see the $10.00 first." The other said, "Me, too." I said it was in my car and left, telling them I'd get it. I didn't really have it and I didn't want to give them a check with my name on it — someone would ask why I gave them each a check! I went to the bank just a mile away to cash a check. When I got back, the boys were walking down the street a couple blocks away from the spot near the river where I had found them. I said I had to cash a check — and I showed them 8 five dollar bills, telling them they could make up to $20.00 if they went back. One boy said he'd go back, but the other said they were already late getting home. I didn't push it — I LEFT. I was MAD at myself. Instead of making them think they'd get paid, I should have actually had the cash to begin with! If 1 had had the money to begin with, the one who wanted to go back would have let me molest him and the other may have, too. I had WASTED too much time driving to the bank, standing in line and then getting back to where the boys were. That was 15 to 20 minutes I could have had WITH the boys! I was NOT HAPPY with myself! I spent the rest of that day and the next few days in my spare time looking for more kids — boys or even girls — with cash IN my pocket. I was ready to spend up to $100.00 depending on how many kids were playing the "game," and on how much they would let me do. I didn't have much free time, as my room-mate and I were looking at other apartments trying to find a bigger place. 1 didn't find anymore kids I could ask to molest in exchange for money. `About this time, we found an apartment complex we both liked. I LIKED it because there were a lot of young kids (ten and under) living there. These events with the three boys at the river in Richland and with the two who were willing to strip for $10.00 or $20.00 occurred in May of 1986. I was still wishing I had done better with those last two when we moved into another apartment building in Kennewick on June 1st, 1986. These five boys in May brought me up to 151-161 victims. 62) WHEN: June 1st to Oct. 27th, 1986 WHERE: Kennewick AGE: 24-25 VICTIMS: Five boys — one girl, ages 18 mos. to 11 years `According to my room-mate, we technically moved into the apartment complex on June 1st, but we actually stayed the night there on May 30th. I do seem to recall getting two or three days free rent, moving the big furniture and sleeping in the new place, then spending a day or two moving the rest of our stuff out of the old apartments before the end of the month. I was still unpacking and organizing when I first molested U—, so it was probably May the 31st or June 1st. I wrote all details of these repeated molestations of U— in previous history, but now have exact dates as to when I moved to various places and can now say I molested him over a period of FIVE months. I lived at the apartment complex only two months, moving in with a co-worker, on August 1st, 1986. After moving in together, I still visited and managed to molest U— two or three times a week. (Remember he was only four years old). I lived at the apartment complex in June and July — turning 25 on July 3rd. While there, I attempted to molest ten year old V— by playing the "trust game" and putting my hand down the front of his pants. A 7 year old friend of M—'s wanted a pocket knife of mine and he fished it out of the front of my underwear, then masturbated me so I would give it to him. While baby-sitting U— and his 18 month old baby brother, I—, I sucked the baby's penis for a while, then for only my second time ever with a child, I simulated intercourse with the baby, ejaculating into his diaper which I had left under him (it was a clean diaper, no urine or feces). I then took the diaper with my semen out to the dumpster rather than having it in the diaper bucket in the apartment). A couple hours after sucking and "crotch-fucking" I — I helped U— suck his baby brother's penis a couple seconds. I wrote all this previously but just wanted to get into this paper that it was June and July of 1986 when I—, V™, and the seven year old boy each became a "one time" victim," in addition to U—'s repeated encounters with me. As I said, I moved in with my co-worker on August 1st of 1986 (I was now 25). I continued molesting U—, but now I had access to other kids. She had a 13 year old, DB— and a seven or eight year old daughter, SP—. She had a boyfriend with a 13 and 11 year old sons. (She and I were strictly roommates — friends who worked for the same company but usually in different stores — we had separate bedrooms.) On Labor Day weekend, I took DB— and the other two boys camping, there was some sex talk mostly about masturbation with the two older boys thinking they knew all about it. I explained masturbation to them and the 11 year old who wanted to know also, I later in the night tried to molest the eleven year old as he slept. Here is an incident which I think I have not mentioned before involving her daughter, SP—. After moving into the house with my co- worker, she was working swing shift and I had the night off. Normally, DB— would stay home with the 7-8 year old daughter, but since I was there to keep an eye on her (no, I don't mind!!! I'll watch her and feed her!), DB— was being allowed to spend the night with a friend. I was HOME ALONE with SP—. The kids were not allowed in the Jacuzzi, nor even around it, unless she or I were there to watch them. SP— was asking to use the Jacuzzi (she had been in a one-piece bathing suit all day, playing in the sprinklers). It was about 7 p.m. and she was still wearing it. I told her to wait, I would change and join her. I put on a pair of tight fitting men's Bikini type swim trunks I had. We got into the Jacuzzi. The hot bubbling water ALWAYS gave me an instant erection. SP— was opposite me. At one point, she stood up in the center of the Jacuzzi facing me and I suddenly got an idea and moved up to the edge of the seat. I pulled her toward me and she moved right along with me. 1 pulled her up against my body. I had my legs spread apart so my erect penis, inside my shorts, was pressed against her vaginal area. I held her there several seconds studying her face and body for a reaction. I knew she was aware of what was pressing against her "private parts." She appeared mildly uncomfortable, but did not pull away, say anything and there was no sign of fright. Because of her reaction or lack of it and from what I'd observed in the week or two I had lived with her, I knew I could do oral sex on her and "crotch-fuck" her without being reported. But her EYES . .. Her personality and reactions said she would not try to stop me and would not report me if I did it, but.. . those eyes were saying "please don't"! It was very strange — it's the only time I ever got that feeling — a feeling that I could do it without being reported, but at the same time a feeling that I should NOT do it anyway. I did not try to molest her — I did have fantasies about her though. Her one piece bathing suit was tight on her — showing the crack of her ass and the outline of her vagina. When alone in the house, I'd go into her room completely naked. I'd get a pair of her dirty panties off the floor of her closet, smell them, rub them on my stomach and groin while masturbating to thoughts of when I had held her against me and thoughts of her in that tight bathing suit. (She is a victim because of that contact in the Jacuzzi.) In the meantime, I am still molesting U—. I probably molested him AT LEAST 100 times in the five months from June 1st to last of October. But he only reported three incidents to his mom — the three times when I made him do something he didn't want to do or at a time he did not want to do it. Three times 1 was caught and admitted to his mom that I did what he said. She never called the police, but the 3rd time I admitted to molesting him, she called my roommate, to warn her, in case I tried to do anything to DB— or SP—. She called the police to report that I had molested U—. As I have written before, at this point, I had two convictions on my record but the Kennewick Police did NOT even question me when I was reported for molesting U— three times! TOTALS: By the last of October, 1986, I had 157 to 167 victims. Had now been caught TWELVE times, reported to police EIGHT times, saw police only SEVEN times and arrested only SIX times. In six arrests, I confessed to THIRTEEN KNOWN CRIMES, was prosecuted for only three of those crimes and convicted on just two of them. I had been in counseling four times. Caught 12 times but went to jail only twice. HELL, NO! I AM NOT GOING TO STOP MOLESTING! This time the police did not even question me! It was VERY clear to me that I could get away with ANYTHING. Police did not care that a repeat offender had committed three more crimes against one boy! BUT, I was not going to stick around town, just to make sure. I moved to Seattle on October 31, 1986. NOTES: Before I take this to Seattle, I need to backpedal a little. While there are no other actual crimes to report during the time I lived with my co-worker (Aug. 1st to Oct. 30, 1986) there are two other things, no, three other things I need to mention. The first MUST have occurred in August. I was living with my co- worker, the weather was still hot even at night. It was this time that I had the two rather wild twelve/thirteen year old boys coming into the store where I worked on my graveyard shift. I figured them to be "gay" and had admitted to playing strip poker with each other. I had fantasized and planned to ask them over to my place on the weekend — I'd have the house to myself — we'd play strip poker, go nude in the Jacuzzi... I wrote details of this in my writings about things I saw or did at work over the years. The second things I should mention is U—'s Mom. She had seen me several times wearing a pair of dark blue gym shorts — though tight at the waist, had very large legs (I could fit both legs into one leg hole in the shorts). I wore my dark blue underwear with them to help "hide things." L— was pretty open about sexuality and had found out I was a virgin — a fact SHE seemed to LIKE quite well. (She had been married twice and now living with a third guy, who worked out of town and was home only on weekends. She had fooled around on husband #1 and married the guy she fooled around with. The guy she now lived with was the reason for her second divorce — it appeared I could be the 4th in line!). One day she called and asked me to come to dinner. She told me to wear my blue shorts, but NO underwear. I did as she asked. After we ate, 1— was put down for a nap and U— went outside. I was helping L— with dishes when U— came back and went to his room — he yelled for me — she said to go see what he was up to. He just wanted to show me he had cleaned his room earlier. I could hear her in the kitchen still, so I asked him if he wanted to "do that thing on the bed" — he laid down and I sucked his penis (twirling it around the tip of my tongue) until he stopped me. He went back outside and I went to help his mom finish the dishes. Then we sat at the table playing backgammon. I then learned ONE of the reasons I was supposed to wear those shorts and NO underwear — when it was my turn to move, she would be peeking under the table. I spread my legs and made sure she could see in the legs of my shorts. I had no idea what this was leading to, but I was pretty excited just having a woman see my genitals for the first time ever! After a few games of backgammon, we went to the living room to watch TV — her on the couch, me on a chair — U— still outside playing and I— was asleep. L— had a quilt pulled over her (there was a chill in the air when I'd come to her place about three, so I would say this occurred in mid-late Sept. of 1986) She said, "Come here." 1 said, "Why?" She said to come sit by her and keep her warm. She pulled the quilt over both of us. I quickly found out that was so U— wouldn't see anything if he came in unexpectedly and I found out the other reason for my "dress code." Her hand slid up my leg and into the leg of my shorts, and for the first time ever, a woman touched my genitals. As soon as I became erect (about ten seconds) she held my penis in her hand rubbing the head of it with her fingertip. It felt great, but after about one minute I told her to stop. WHY? I was about to have an "accident" in my shorts! She said to just concentrate on TV "that's what her boyfriend does." A couple more minutes, I thought I was going to lose it, then she stopped. She went to get a drink out of the fridge and I followed her. Then U— came in. I sat back in the chair and L— on the couch. By now, I had lost my erection. Then U— sat on my lap. He was wearing his cotton shorts I liked so well (they were very short and hugged his crotch — 99% of the inside of his thighs were bare and in back, the bottom of his butt cheeks showed — very short shorts!) and I was in shorts — his bare legs and thighs against mine — soft and warm — my erection came back. I didn't want her to see and think I had a "hard on" for U—, so I made him get down. (It WAS hard for U— but I did not want HER thinking that!) He went back outside. She said, "still got a problem?" I said, "Yeah." She said, "Me, too, what should we do about it?" "Ohhhh, I don't knowww." She said, "... there'd be no point in arrest ..." meaning no reason to pull out or use birth control (her tubes were tied). She locked the door so U— would have to knock to get in — so he wouldn't catch us and tell her boyfriend what he saw! She took me into the hallway, pulled her pants down, pulled my shorts down and I lost my virginity right there in the hallway while standing up. She had three orgasms before I was finally able to ejaculate. I couldn't decide whether to concentrate on her or fantasize about U— (which is why it probably took me so long to climax.) I was 25, she was 29. I was to stay and watch the late movie with her. After U— had gone to bed and was asleep, she took a shower. While she was in the shower I went to his room and slid my hand under his blankets and set it on his genitals over his underwear, then played with his penis through his underwear to see if that contact woke him up made him stir. (He was on his back). I pulled back his blankets. I had felt his penis grow when I played with it with my hand under the blanket, but when I pulled the blanket back, I got an unexpected surprise. I had seen him with erections before, but not like this! When he was on his back and had an erection (or even when he was standing), his penis was up against his groin. But now, his penis was standing straight up perpendicular to his body, even against the pressure of his underwear! It was like a finger poking the inside of his underwear, pushing the tight underwear two inches away from his body! Through his underwear I pushed his penis down against his scrotum. It popped back up against the pressure of his underwear. He woke up and said, "Don't, Wes." I pushed his penis down against his groin and again it popped up against his underwear. He said, "Don't, Wes," again. I said, "Can I put my mouth on it?" I wanted to look at it, touch it, suck it, play with it. .. every erection I had ever seen, either on myself or a boy, while laying down was up against the groin. I had seen partially erect penises perpendicular to the body standing up but even fully erect would be against the groin while standing. U —'s erection was very strong, it was the largest I had ever seen on his penis and defied explanation. But he wouldn't let me pull his underwear down, "I'm tired, Wes, tomorrow, OK?" I left him alone. I was on cloud nine! Earlier I had had U— (sucked his penis), then I'd had his mother (intercourse), then I had given U— his strongest and largest erection ever — I could "have my cake and eat it, too." Mother and CHILD both!! BUT, L- told me to go out and get some "experience," then come back and she'd teach me the "right way to do it." The experience I thought I had a great plan for is the third thing I need to report about during the time I lived with my co-worker. There was a beautiful girl who had just started working in my store. She was about a year younger than me. She was talking about flying back to Florida to bring her four year old son out as soon as she found someone that could baby-sit while she worked. I knew L— baby-sat quite often, so I talked to her. L— agreed to talk to her. AQ— bought a ticket to go get her kid. L— said they talked about me. L— told me I should ask AQ— out, that she was interested in me. I thought that would be great! I was sure that I could still get into L—'s "pants," KNEW I would continue molesting U—, now 1 might be able to date and even move in with AQ— (she was looking for a roommate), I'd have AQ— at home — would molest her four year old son, if possible, and L— and U— would be my "other woman" and "other boy"!!! I liked the sound of that! Before any of this could actually happen, I moved to Seattle in case the police changed their minds and wanted to question me about U—! 63) WHEN: Nov., 1986-April, 1987 WHERE: King & Snohomish Ctys. AGE: 25 VICTIM: I—Age two When I learned on the evening of Oct. 28 that the police had been called (on the 27th) in Kennewick, I was at work — graveyard shift. When I got off work the morning of the 29th, it had been more than a full day since the police were called — I wasn't taking any chances. I left work and went straight to Seattle, buying a shirt on the way, as I still had my work uniform shirt on — I hadn't even gone home to change clothes. On the afternoon, evening of Oct. 30,1 drove back to Kennewick and arrived a little after sunset. I loaded as much of my stuff as I could into my small Datsun station wagon, then drove throughout the night arriving back at my sister's apartment in Seattle around 6 a.m. on October 31st. I began driving a donation collection truck. One day a lady wearing a T-shirt came to the door, she had forgotten to get together the things she was going to donate. She had me step inside and she opened the hall closet and bent over, her back to me, to pick some things up off the floor. I could see that she had NOTHING on under the T-shirt, no panties, nothing. I realized there might be some unknown "fringe benefits" to that job. (I wrote about this in my letter explaining sex-related incidents at work.) I believe now it was February or March, 1987 when I first molested/ raped P—. I figured P— would be my replacement for U— since P— lived with me and he could not talk at all (I found out later he's deaf), so I could do what I wanted without fear of being reported. So, even though P— resisted, I physically held him down and had my way — I had never done that before, but then, 1 had never had a boy that COULD NOT report me, even if he wanted to — all that mattered was I GOT what I wanted. I was 25. (P— was born in 1984 so he was two years plus two or three months old.) Shortly after that incident, P— and his dad moved. I, now, had to start looking for victims. I had to check and sort donations on my truck as I picked them up. I began tearing photos of nude children out of old nature magazines I picked up. When I was out in isolated parts of King or Snohomish counties or near schools or parks and I had picked up donated clothing containing small boy's clothing, I wrote down the address. It was a place I could watch. An eight or nine year old boy may go to the park or the school to play and I could approach him there. I collected small boy's underwear. At home, I'd lay out small boys' underwear from four or five different houses, the underwear of four or five different boys. I would masturbate while holding the underwear to my stomach. I'd suck the crotch of the underwear into my mouth, even tried to wear the underwear. When I decided it was not a good idea to have the boy's underwear in my room, I threw them away, one pair at a time, after masturbating and ejaculating on the part that would cover the boy's genitals. One day, I KNEW, I would ejaculate onto a BOY'S GENITALS instead of onto a boy's underwear. One day while at work, there was a pretty friendly boy talking to me, he wondered if I could ever let people ride in the truck. I had fantasies the rest of the day about it. I could take a boy for a ride in the truck, then molest him in the back of the truck. One day a lady had me wait in her living room while she got things together. At the end of her street was a wooded area. I had seen some kids come out of the woods as I drove up. While I was standing in the living room, a naked toddler (boy — not circumcised) came into the room. The kids I had seen outside came in — seven to eight year old boys and a girl. I wrote down that address when I left. I planned on returning weekends when the weather was warmer — I would wait in the woods for those kids (who obviously played there a lot). Maybe they would bring their little brother with that long uncircumcised penis to play with them on a day I was waiting there for a victim or two. On another occasion, a nine or ten year old girl answered the door and a nude boy, seven to eight years old, came up behind her. I wrote down that address, also. The details of all this, I wrote in my letter about what I saw or did at work over the years. Though nothing ever happened as a result of my notes and addresses 1 had collected, I DID have PLANS to molest kids in those areas if I ever got the opportunity, and some places were isolated enough that on a weekend with my car parked out of sight, I could molest a child BY FORCE if necessary. P— was gone — 1 was now prepared to use force on kids I did not know and warn them not to tell. But it did not happen. 64) WHEN: June 13,1987 WHERE: Seattle AGE: 25 VICTIM: Four boys I had quit driving the trunk and now worked as a security guard. 1 HAD to find a boy to molest. I already knew I would use force when I found a kid. As I have written before, I decided I'd have to kill, but wasn't sure if I could — so, masturbating to pictures of nude children, I fantasized about killing them — I MADE the thought of killing sexually exciting so I could rape & then kill to prevent being reported. I decided if I was going to kill, I might as well get all I could, since the kid would die I no longer cared about physical pain — anal sex became an option I never had before. Torture and mutilation — for my own excitement and to add mental torture — like making a child eat his own penis — after I cut it off, of course. My thoughts ran wild. I tried to get one or all of three boys into my car on June 13th so 1 could take them to an isolated area under false pretenses (they were all under eight to ten years old), but they would not go. I then went to Seattle, fully intending to kidnap a specific boy, who I knew only as K— I've written details before. I ended up in jail for 118 days, one year probation, counseling required. 65) BACK TO P—. Three other victims: P— became available again. I molested and simulated intercourse (crotch-fucked) with him BY FORCE three times in December of 1987. He had just turned three and I was on probation and in counseling. NO ONE knew what my TRUE intentions were on June 13th. I still thought about killing, but now P— was keeping me "fulfilled" and I had no intention of physically hurting P— at all. I would be the first suspect because he lived with me and with my record ... !! P— first COOPERATED with me, and my first Polaroid photos of him was in late January, 1988. (Him — three, me — 26). My probation officer found P— [was living with me] on Feb. 4th or 5th, 1988. That made me mad! I'd just started molesting/crotch-fucking a WILLING three year old on a regular basis — I knew I had my replacement for U—, P— was much better than U— because I could crotch-fuck to ejaculation. But I only had this golden situation a couple weeks when my probation officer found out P— lived with me. It was June 3rd, 1988 when I was next able to suck P—'s penis then crotch-fuck him. Then, he moved out of the state. My probation officer had heard a report that P— was back with me but he was there just the one night and left the state, so "no sign of small children" was found. It was at this time I met RD— and began having sex with her. While P— was with relatives, his dad and I went and picked up his seven year old boy WV— and WV—'s ten year old step-brother. We all went camping — probably in July of 1988 — I was now 27. The boys and I slept in my pickup canopy (WV—'s dad and his girlfriend in a tent). I ATTEMPTED to molest the ten year old in his sleep and got only as far as LICKING his penis a couple of times but his body position made it difficult and I was afraid of waking him if I moved him. In September of '88, P— was back, and I started "sucking and crotch- fucking him" on a regular basis — I was 27 — he was now 3VS. My probation ended a month later. P— turned four and I molested (sucked and fucked) him until July of 1989 — he was 4VS, I was 28. I had molested him for two and a half years. I went to Yakima with RD— and molested her 18 month old son by sucking his penis for a few seconds. 66) Now I must back up a bit — May, June and July of 1989. I was still molesting P— and not wanting to physically hurt or kill him, but I WAS wanting to rape and kill. We were now living in Buckley in a trailer park which was backed by a thick forest. I had seen a couple of ten year olds go into the forest one day and [I] started making plans. I kept a close eye on things and was prepared for instant action. If I saw one or both of those boys (or any of the other kids in the area) go into those woods on a day when my roommates weren't home, I would grab a knife and some rope, and make sure no one saw ME go into those woods. I'd rape and kill as many as 3 or 4 kids at a time (using a game of hide and seek or something — kill the ugly ones outright while they were apart from the others — tie up and gag the pretty ones, one at a time, until I could get to them). I learned my way around the mountains between Buckley and Mt. Rainier. Found a tiny town with lots of kids — saw kids on bikes w/ fishing poles — they'd been out behind the town at a stream — a perfect place where I could force them into my car. Yells for help would not be heard, then I would take them to one of three or four spots [which] I had found in the mountains. I could do what I wanted and the bodies would never be found. (I got my car down old, unused 4/wheel-drive roads — never saw any signs that anyone else went down one particular road which dead ended about two miles off a forest service road. I could take the kid(s) a ways down a creek and leave their bodies there. IF anyone ever drove down that road, they'd have no reason to try to hike in that area — even so, they wouldn't go downstream and then a few hundred feet into the woods. Also, it was inside National Park boundaries — no hunters to find the bodies. But, before I could make use of those wonderful mountains and unused roads, I left Buckley with RD—. 1 was with RD— one week, molested her son, and was in Vancouver and in my apartment by September 1st, 1989 at age 28. Everyone reading this knows the rest of the story. I started killing every kid I could get my hands on. By the time I got to Vancouver, I had 165-175 VICTIMS. I had been CAUGHT 13 TIMES, reported to police NINE TIMES, ARRESTED SEVEN TIMES. In seven arrests, I had confessed to 14 known crimes ranging form exposure to attempted indecent liberties, to lewd conduct (sucking on H—'s penis) and even attempted kidnapping. Ten of the charges against me never went to court, one was dropped in a plea bargain. Out of THOSE seven arrests, I went to jail three times — 17 days, four months, and 118 days. I had gotten away with 78.5 % of my known crimes and got only a slap on the wrist for the 21.5% of my known crimes that I was convicted of — I had BEEN in counseling five times. Charged with 14 crimes, convicted of 3!! NEVER more than four months in jail!! Not to mention all those children who never reported me at all. The odds were definitely in my favor. I could get away with sucking H —'s dick — the courts didn't care. Police didn't even bother to question me when they found out I had sucked M—'s dick and stuck a finger in his ass. Police didn't question me when I had TWO convictions already and I was reported again — for RAPE. Yes, the odds were in my favor. Police wouldn't question me — if they DID, [the] prosecutor didn't prosecute — if they did, I got four months as a trustee on work release. Then probation violations, just 19 months before the first murders, were ignored. Investigating the violations properly would have turned up photos of me molesting P—. Leave behind no fingerprints, semen or my own blood — dead kids can not identify me. Careful planning ... Police and courts don't care WHAT I do. I'd gotten away with everything between exposure, rape with a finger in the butt and attempted kidnapping ... I had a LICENSE to molest and rape and I had 15 YEARS experience, I was desperate — but had to be careful . .. HELLOOO, Vancouver!! Did I think I could get away with it? If I HAD NOT kept a log of my actions, I WOULD have gotten away with it! Police had no clues, no evidence, no witnesses and the wrong suspects. If I hadn't kept a log, I'd be doing time for attempted kidnapping and mentally planning my first murder after my release! Nez Perce County, Idaho, and in Washington — Asotin, Benton and King Counties — all could have had me in prison at the time of the murders. If ANYONE of those four had done their jobs, three boys would still be alive. Why did I kill those kids? Why did Idaho and Washington fail to send me to prison all those times? All they had to do was prosecute me. In 1985, my counselor knew, even before I knew, that I would one day kill a child. Why did I kill? Wrong question . .. WHY did the 'justice sys-tem' LET me kill? Washington and Idaho are co- defendants in three counts of First Degree Aggravated Murder of four year old Lee Iseli, 10 year old William Neer and 11 year old Cole Neer and one count Attempted First Degree Murder of six year old James Kirk. Police did not question. Prosecutors "forgot" to prosecute, judges give a repeat offender work release and probation and the probation officers ignore violations. YOU TELL ME! WHY did those boys die? — Westley A. Dodd Author's Comment: If ever you thought that what you are reading happens to someone else, not you, not in your neighborhood, not in your family, not in your home . . . STOP . . . think again. Just because you don't read it in the paper, or see it on television, dosen't mean it isn't happening daily! — LS CANNIBALISM: You asked, "What would it have meant to you to complete this act, what was the purpose?" There was no "purpose" that I am aware of, nor would it have "meant" anything to me. It baffles me as much as it does you. It is something that I considered. Why? I don't know. I wanted to eat the genitals. Dead children would be a cheap way to feed my "slaves" if I ever had any. When I was planning to kidnap in Seattle in '87,1 thought of cutting a boy's penis off to watch him bleed to death. I wanted to hide the body — so I would have to hide the amputated penis also — well, I could put it in the boy's mouth after his death. Then I realized it would be more exciting to make him hold his penis in his mouth while still alive. (I guess this was to add to the mental torture — I don't know.) I remember reading a Vietnam story in which the enemies were drugged so they would remain conscious, then their intestines were removed and the guys were forced to watch their own entrails being burned. I may have had that in mind when I first considered actually eating a boy's penis. There was a case in Pierce County, a boy's penis had been cut off and he was found wandering around in the woods, so I knew a boy would not die when his penis was cut off. (I had considered cutting K—'s penis off BEFORE the Pierce County incident, but the Pierce County incident taught me a boy would live after such a thing, so I planned more for Vancouver). So I had already planned on cutting a boy's penis off — then I learned a boy would live and if he lost consciousness he would regain it on his own. As part of the torture I planned in Vancouver, I would tightly tie a piece of string around a boy's penis, at the base, to act as a tourniquet to prevent too much blood loss when I cut the penis off. I know that in major injuries, such as sudden amputations, there is not much pain. With no pain and very little blood loss, the boy should remain conscious or it would be easy to revive him. I would already have a pan on the stove and hot — I would cut the penis off in the kitchen and immediately drop it into the hot pan. It would be part of the boy's torture to watch me cook and eat his "weeny." But, Hey, IT IS, after all, HIS weeny (I've heard many boy's call their penis a "weeny") — so I would let him eat (force him) half of it. Then I realized a boy's testicles are about the same size as hominy, I could gather a few testicles (4 to 10 year old's testicles are all pretty much the same size) and boil them just like you would hominy or other vegetables. Of course, any time I had some testicles, there would be a boy to share the meal. We would have real food, but boy's testicles would be our "mystery vegetable." AFTER dinner, I would tell the boy what the "vegetable" really was and explain that his testicles would be the first of my new batch. Then I realized that if I ever had sex slaves, the cheapest way to feed them would be to supplement their diet with the kids I brought home as "disposables" (I discussed this in one of my earlier letters). "Meaty" parts would be a boy's buttocks and thighs. And, hey, you eat beef liver, how about boy's liver? I was interested mainly in eating the genitals while kids watched. A boy might watch me eat his own penis, or my next victim would watch me eat a previous victim's genitals and be told I would eat his, too, after I killed him. I was going to do this as a form of torture more than anything else. But, if I liked the taste and didn't get sick, I would try other parts of the body also. Kidnapping and butchering kids would be cheaper than buying meat at the store! And, of course, I could PLAY with my FOOD before killing it. If I had a particularly "tough" kid (One who tried to fight back or escape), I could "tenderize" him by beating the hell out of him before killing him. So, the primary reason for cannibalism, I guess, was to torture the kids. Secondary reason would be a cheap source of food to feed my slaves, and last, if I liked the taste, I would save on my personal food bill as well. I had to spend extra money on gas to find victims, money for ropes to tie them up, money for Polaroid film ... so, some of these kids would help cover those costs by becoming food for the kids I kept as slaves. I even considered making up a menu from which my slaves would be forced to order from occasionally (once I had stored an ample supply of "food"). The menu would have things such as "Pickled PeePees," "Boiled Boy's Balls," "Rump Roast," "Butthole Rings," etc. Because of an experience I had with M—, (I met him again after the Navy), I knew 11-12 year old boys, while not yet showing pubic hair, can ejaculate. Some of my older slaves might be "milked" three or four times a day and their semen collected. I would add my own semen and would have a quart or so of semen to serve as a "milkshake" after dinner. I could collect spit from all the kids, over several days, to serve as another drink. The primary drink, and the easiest to collect in great quantities in a short period of time, would of course be the combined urine of all my slaves. Another "special drink" would be "tomato juice." I would make it with 50% real tomato juice and 50% blood from the kids I butchered. A slave being forced to choose two items of food and two drinks might choose a Rump roast, Boiled Boy's Balls, a Semen Shake and an ice cold glass of Urine. For a snack later, he might have some "Butthole Rings" and "Tomato" juice. I would have thought of other things also — like "Finger sandwiches." Of course, human feces would become "Chocolate Pudding." THAT'S where MY MIND was at. I can't say exactly why I started thinking about cannibalism, but I did intend it to be a form of torture, as I just described, and as a source of cheap food for slaves. I was interested mainly in the genitals for myself. EVERYTHING I did or planned was related to sex — medical experiments, torture, cannibalism — all involved the sex organs. And of course, there was sex itself — sucking, masturbating, etc. I was considering an experiment to see how long a child would survive on NOTHING BUT a diet of human flesh and body fluids (no real water — just urine and blood). - Wes Part IV Relationship with a Pedophile on Death Row Author's Comment: Who, today, would take a stranger into their home? Allowing a stranger to enter your home to use the telephone in case of an emergency is getting to be dangerous, but something like that could be understood. Most people have a home "rule": no strangers, even in the event of an emergency. The home owner or occupant would make the call, leaving the stranger outside. On the other hand if we ask, WHO would take a known killer into their home or, to deepen the unlikelihood of getting an affirmative answer, we add: child molester, rapist, human predator and convicted murderer? Would you want such a person visiting in your home? Most would object to having a known sex offender living in their neighborhood and those with small children are usually too concerned about the safety of their children to even think of allowing their child to consort with a child molester. The obvious answer would appear to be that no sane person would ever entertain the thought of developing a serious relationship with a convicted killer and child molester as Westley Allan Dodd. Wrong, . . . Indications are that hundreds write to nearly every convicted killer, offering their love, affection, and financial support, and Westley Allan Dodd was no different. The question is — WHY? With hundreds of people like that in our society, the child molester, killer, and those looking for sex slaves do not have difficulty finding prey for their dungeons. When Wes told me that me that he had made a commitment of marriage while on death row, my first thought was that it must be someone he knew before being imprisoned. Under these circumstances, most people can understand a lover standing by her partner. . . until death! However, when Wes told me he had not known this woman before his conviction, many questions entered my mind. And again the greatest was, WHY? Upon further investigation, I discovered the woman to be quite serious about her interest and she went so far as to send Wes pictures of her small son and allowed her son to communicate with Wes both by telephone and through the U.S. mail. Once more, I asked the question . . . WHY? In trying to answer these questions and to understand how a woman with young children could create a romantic situation with a child-killer, a "layman's" psychological profile of her character was made. There is no psychiatrist or psychologist involved in the writing of this book. The average reader is too smart to believe that they need a psychiatrist to better understand the problems here. You will better understand her after reading this woman's own words. -LS Author's Comment: I conducted a two-hour video-taped interview with J—. The following is transcribed from that taped interview with some editing and correcting for clarification. - LS L: You know who I am? J: Yes, you're Lori Steinhorst. L: OK. Why am I here? J: To ask some questions about my relationship with Westley Dodd L: Right. Could you speak up a little bit. I don't know how well my equipment is going to pick this up. OK J: And let's . . . You understand that this is being recorded? L: Yes J: Video recorded? J: Yes L: OK and I have your permission to do this? J: Yes L: I want to start off first with you telling a little about yourself and how you first came to know Westley Allan Dodd J: I saw Westley on TV, Sally Jesse Raphael. At the time I was in treatment (drug) at D. D. Wallace Center, three times a week, a 'Parenting' class on Friday and individual counseling on Tuesday. And the first time I saw him on TV, he really made an impression. I've thought about it since, I tried to analyze it, and everything. I don't know what it was but he really stuck in my mind. And I remember talking about him in my parenting group, because It had been an issue with CH— and I about me going with him to the restroom, at McDonald's or the movies, and after seeing him on TV I definitely was in the vicinity with him. He was a topic of discussion in my parenting group. L: May I ask you what the parenting class was for? J: Well, I'm on Methadone and it's just part of the program. It was a mother's group, is what it was. A lot of women having babies. It was just a way for us to get to know each other. Discuss our lives. How to become better effective parents. And, so, I just noticed during the next few months that I would think about 'im. Different things would remind me of him or I would see something on TV about child abuse and I would remember him. L: Do you remember when that was that you initially saw him? J: No, whenever it was first aired. Because I wrote him after the second time I saw the same tape. It was the summer reruns. L: Sally Jesse Raphael? J: In August. 1 again saw the show and it, like, reinforced everything that I thought of before L: Was that August of 1990? J: '91 — so, I decided I would write him. I had this ... I had .. . Looking back, it was funny. I felt like, and I told Westley this, from the very beginning, I felt like 1 owned him. I don't know why but I felt that way. I felt like I needed to get him away from R—. [R—, another of Westley's pen pals] I picked that up on TV. I didn't like .. . It wasn't that I didn't like her. I felt that she was manipulating him. I don't know, I had this tangle of feelings about him. It was sorta like, uh, I don't know, I just wanted to get in touch with him. So I wrote him a letter and I didn't know where to send it. I knew he was in Washington State Penitentiary. I called information and asked the operator if she knew where the Washington State Pen is and she said, Walla Walla and went ahead and gave me the number. So since I'd gone that far, I went a step further and called the prison and asked what the zip code was. I was just going to send it like that and she asked me who I was writing to and when I told her she went ahead and gave me the complete address, his number and everything. That was it, I wrote him a letter, and he wrote me back. L: What did your first letter consist of? J: Well I told him who I was and that I'd seen him on TV and . . . can't really remember. Just that, . . . whatever he said really meant a lot to me. I wanted him to know, I wanted to know if he knew that he could be forgiven for what he did, by God, by Jesus and also by some people in society, and, I put in parenthesis, I am one. He wrote me back that he was a Christian and that he, told me about the organ donors thing that he was about to go before the court to ask to be able to donate his organs. And, um, he told me about how he wasn't. .., and he'd waved appeals, and all that. The takes, the typical Westley takes that he says (Laugh), and that was about it. And I wrote him back — What I thought was going on with him probably was going on with him, but he tells me later a different story. Anyway, I wrote him a couple letters and I was much too forward. I just — Boy, 1 liked him — I wrote him a lot of stuff, a lot of stuff about me. In fact, I was so forward I probably scared him to death because I just got right down to it, you know, about, ya'know, his most innermost self. I probably wrote him things that I might have been scared to write him even at the end. (Laugh) About the his family and things that, looking back, things that he would never answered. L: Did he write at all concerning his family? J: He didn't answer the letters, Period! He didn't write me back. So I wrote him two letters. I said that I realize I overstepped my bounds asking you all this personal stuff. I told him it wasn't for the infor-mation, it was . . . that I was just very interested in him personally. I sent him a little picture. L: A little picture of yourself? J: Yeah, so that was it. And I didn't write him anymore. And he told me that, and I'm sure that it was true, he said that there was no reason for him not writing me but he was in one of his terrible moods. A month or so later, A—, I got a letter from A— [another of Wes's pen pals]. She just returned from the hospital and had my petition, and sent me the petitions for the donors, to donate his organs. And my father had had a kidney transplant and that was my whole life story, being in hospitals, with my father, to save my father's life, to get a kidney. (Break in the interview) J: So at that point I got a lot of names on the petition, and I wrote Wes again and I told him that A—, oh, I called A— and she told me that Dr. K had flaked out and that the doctor that he had promised was not available to go to court and everything was messed up. L: Is this Dr. Jack Kavorkian? J: Yes L: The so-called "Suicide Doctor"? J: Yes L: And he was . . . apparently he was supposed to be helping Wes . .. J: He had a doctor that would take his organs out, at the time of execution, and they had a proposed way to do it, called irreversible anesthesia, and so when it came time to go to court, we had no doctor. And Wes was very mad, and he said that he lied to me, and as it turned out later, he was going to go on Maury Povich and really blast Dr. K. Not long before he died he said, You're not going to believe what I found out. There really was a doctor all along but after all this publicity he didn't want his name associated with Dr. K. So, that was that. But I told him I would like to try to find a doctor, since I'd spent my life doing that, trying to find a transplant for my dad. I called about, oh, I must have called about 60 doctors. I called my father's doctor first, and he's the head of, president of the Kidney Foundation, and he told me that I should start in Washington and he gave me some places to call ... L: Washington State? J: Yeah. And it was just unsuccessful all the way around. No, no, no, no, no. It's just, and now 1 realize, taking an organ out of a living person, that would be ultimately killing them, and you're not going to find too . . . well, maybe you would . . . but that's a heavy thing for a doctor to do, to go in there and perform the execution, almost. And then they were also afraid of lawsuits. People who had received the organs and then say his spirit is in me and now I want to murder, you know, or now I'm a pedophile. They just didn't want anything to do with it. So, he soon gave up on that. The transplant thing was sort of a way that we got to know each other but it didn't continue for very long. That second letter was in Aug . . . November, that he started writing me again. That was the end of November. And by Christmas, we were very close. We went out to Grandpa's, and I can remember going in the bathroom to write him. I remember on Christmas Day, he wrote me, it was the first time that he wrote Love, he signed his name Love. I felt like that was my Christmas present. That made me happy. He also told me about WD in that letter. L: His son? J: Yeah. Now when I look back on those first letters, they were so short — how did I know? How did I know he had those feelings there and the only way I could figure it out is that I was writing him so much that it was his response to my letters that I knew was positive, it wasn't so much what he said, but I knew he was answering the heavy things I was saying — because I was just, I don't know, with him. It was like all or nothing. He could just flat out tell me to get lost or go to hell, but I wasn't going to play any games, it was like totally real for me. And I just told him exactly the way I felt. I never hid anything. — Not long after Christmas, [this] didn't have anything to do with Westley, my husband and I split up again — for good. It was a really bad scene that went on with my son and my husband, ex-husband, in front of Grandpa and my mom, and that was it, it was over after that. So, for one or two days I moved out to Grandpa's house and then I came back home. Wes, of course, didn't know that this was going on, and A— called me. She hadn't been writing Wes a whole lot, because she had been in a hospital, and for some reason he had called her, and I talked to her and I told her that if she talked to Wes to tell him that Joe and I had split up and to please call me. A —, being closer to him, wrote him . . . L: You mean physically closer, not emotionally closer? J: Right, being right there, her letter got to him the next day telling him that and she said he said, she won't tell me what he said, but that was just typical Wes, oh, what does she want, she just wants my ... I have no idea but L: In other words he used his normal defense. J: Right, you know, probably she just wants my body and, crazy, lunatic, whatever. But he called, of course, (Laugh) I told him everything that was going on. And not long after that, the first, I remember that I had written him and told him that I wish he was literally a baby and I could hold him all night long and take away all his pain. He wrote back and told me he, too, wished he was a baby sometime, but baby or not, he wished that I could hold him all night long. In my letter, I put, 'no matter how bad my marriage is and even though there's nothing there and there hasn't been anything there for a long time, I would never want to lead you into adultery. You know I don't feel like I have the right to tell you — anything — I felt like, as a married woman I didn't have any business telling him I loved him even though I did.' He also put in that same letter, 'don't think you couldn't lead me into adultery if you had a mind to because I've never had a relationship that wasn't adulterous.' He told me about RD— and L—. That L— was married. And RD— didn't file for divorce until she was 8 months pregnant —. When I got that letter, it was a special day for me. My son and I, he was going to his girl friend's birthday party and I took him to the barber shop. The barber cut nearly all his hair off. He was almost bald. He looked really cute. I remember sitting — we had to wait a long time. I sat there reading this letter over and over. It was twelve pages and he [Wes] was in such a good mood. He said all kinds of funny things, telling me he was going to give me pop quizzes and everything. That day when I got home, I said, 'I love you and I'm in love with you mentally, physically, emotionally and spiritually'. I just laid all my cards out on the table. He wrote back and said that "I feel the same way." Saying, so you're in love with me, I feel the same way and he said all the same things I said, mentally, physically, emotionally and spiritually — the feeling is mutual. He said I would like to take you up into the mountains in a log cabin or something, for a long vacation. Then he put (honeymoon?) in parentheses with a question mark. I knew when he mentioned marriage the very first time telling me he loved me, that he was that way, you know. So — L: Do you feel you brought that emotional aspect out in him? J: (Laugh) Yeah (Laugh) I mean, apparently, from later letters I could tell — he always had a dream, you know, in his mind. In fact, that was a lot... our relationship had a lot to do with fulfilling that dream and breaking myths that he had in that dream. Him finding out what love was and that it wasn't exactly what he fantasized it to be because he had this definite plan in his mind what love was — and songs that he would sing to me and he wrote me all these beautiful words to songs he would write to me and everything and, uh. So from that moment on it was, uh, you know very passionate — both of us just let everything out. From the beginning it became very intimate and that was toward the end of January, — January, February and March. L: We're talking about 1992 now? J: Yeah, toward the end of March he had become so wrapped up with his passion for me that his thoughts of molesting and violent thoughts went away. A lot of his molesting and thoughts of violence just went out the window and he had never experienced that before. There was a time at the end of March that he went for three days that he gave in to those old thoughts of molesting and no telling ... L: When he reverted back to those thoughts of molesting and homicidal type thoughts, did you notice that his attitude came across differently in his letters than it had been prior to that? J: There was no way not to. It was that letter I sent to you. It started out to be a very sexual letter to me and as he started getting sexual, I suppose, he had already been having these thoughts so — (interruption — knock on door) (Continued) — And that is when he started having doubts, he was flooded with his old feelings. He was who he was before, his molesting self, his pedophile self. He was ready at that point, I think, it was part of him to dismiss me as a fantasy or something that he got into, a flirtation, a two or three month letter writing thing, you know, because when he goes back — when he gets angry, I think that is the most powerful force in his life, anger. Up until he died, and then I think love was trying to get there. But — uh, the letter was just, you know, he knew that he had to show me. He had never showed me his anger. The only way that I knew it was I felt it. That was another thing, from the very first it was like there was no barriers, there wasn't 5000 miles between us. I could feel him, we would constantly talk about that. We would send each other letters and our letters would be identical and we wouldn't know the other had written. We would be talking about the same thing but it was always like that — almost to the point of just being freaky. He said our letters crossed in the mail again. It was just bizarre how we would write the same things at the same time to each other. And so when he went through the doubt period, he showed me his anger, loud and clear, he let it all out and I saw that part of him, the mean part that hurt children and what he wanted to do, what he could do, and everything he was capable of doing ... L: How did you feel about that? J: Very upset. I could accept the part of it but 1 couldn't accept his rejection. I was willing to hear all the bad stuff but I didn't want him to leave me. In fact, I told him that when that happened, 1 was so much in love with him I remember laying on the floor with my face right on the floor crying. 1 wanted the world, God, just to bury me, cover me up. 1 just lay flat on the floor, I couldn't do anything else. Then he sent me a letter telling me he was sorry. L: Prior to receiving that letter that said he was sorry, when you were experiencing the grief of the anger in that letter, how did your children respond to you experiencing that? J: Well, they weren't there at that point, with me crying — they were very well aware, I told them, I think, that Westley may have broken up with me. We were going to the psychiatrist at that time also, all of us because of the divorce. I can remember sitting at the park and writing his name on the table and I can remember crying a lot. They would see me crying and, at this point, they wouldn't even ask what I was crying about, they knew. I was always writing him. I was catching a lot of slack, a lot of flack — rather — from my family. L: What part of your family gave you a hard time about it? J: My mom, that is my family! L: How did your mom feel about it? J: She was always cutting me down, about writing him. L: What did she say to you? J: She wouldn't . .. she never confronts me so much, she's too scared of me. It was always through the kids, you know, "Is she writing again?" — "She should spend more time with you." — you know — blah, blah, blah. L: Typical mother. Okay — when they came home and told you that, how did they feel about what she said? J: I don't know, they, you know, they liked Westley? L: Now both your children talked to Westley on the phone, is that true? J: No, at that point they hadn't talked to him at all. He'd only started calling that month before. They had never spoken with him. L: It was later on that your children got to talk to him on the phone? J: My son, later on, — my daughter talked to him only once, the Christmas before he died. He started calling all the time, later, that letter that he wrote — telling me to forgive him is one of the letters I always keep. I kept it in my purse because it was my rock, really. When there were doubts about him — because it pretty much told me there were two parts of him; one was his love for me. He told me how he felt, how he felt unworthy, unworthy of me. He felt I deserved someone better than him. That I should have someone physically to be there to take care of me, that he felt bad because he was in prison and couldn't be there with me and help me raise the kids — (Interrupted by a knock on the door — then continued) L: Okay (Talking about the visitor had been taken care of) J: Previous to that letter we had also discussed, he was under the opinion that death row inmates could not get married and it wasn't possible and we had discussed making a commitment of marriage to each other, you know, doing our own thing and 1 told him that I wanted him to write it, write the words. And, uh, during that letter, saying about love, he also explained to me that there are times when 'I get angry and it controls me,' and he said, 'I blow things way out of proportion and I make them out to be what they're not, I say things that are really hurtful that I don't mean,' and said, 'if I do that please,' like he was begging me — 'don't leave me, I need you, please don't leave me. I need you and I need you more than just sexually because our letters have been so passionate and everything he wanted me to know he had a need for me deeper than that. And, uh, he said basically, you know, I don't deserve you but are you still willing to make a commitment to me? And so, after that letter he still went back and forth, you know, that was it. April first he wrote that letter. During the entire month of April, uh, it was, a thing where we were going to hold off and be friends and see what happens while he decided what was going on in his head and in his heart. That was a very difficult month for me. L: What month was that? J: April L: 1992? J: '92 — He would still write letters, you know, like, uh — 'take care of your body. It belongs to me'. He would still, like, claim ownership of me, but he wouldn't say, "I love You." He did a couple times. He was writing a lot to the kids, also, the kids would write him to back, too. L: How did you feel about him corresponding with your children? J: I welcomed it, if I was to have a relationship with him, I wanted him to be close with all of us and we had a understanding between us — that he would just be honest and I always trusted him. L: So your children understood that he was in prison and they understood what he was in prison for. Do you feel like your children have a clear understanding of what a pedophile is? J: No, now they do. Back then they had a understanding just as much as a child does the first time a child hears it. They didn't have a concept of being molested because they don't know what sex is. You know, they don't know anything about it. So they really don't know what happens when one is molested, I guess, besides pulling your pants down or looking, you know, so uh. L: Given Wes's history, you didn't have any reservations about him communicating with your children? J: No, because I knew he was a Christian and I knew his intentions were honorable towards my children. L: How did you know that? J: I felt that — I didn't know that. There's no way you could know. L: You didn't feel that he had manipulated you — and convinced you so he could talk to your children? (Nodded her head yes — no verbal answer) J: I always told him, if you have those thoughts, just be honest about it. You know, I'm just sure that it's bound to come up. Relationship with a Pedophile on Death Row ♦ 205

L: Did you feel like he was an honest person? J: Totally. L: What gave you the impression that he was honest? J: There was nothing about him that made,. .. every fiber of him, to me, was honest, I mean, either that or he was a genius, like Albert Schweitzer — no one could be, .. . nobody could be that dishonest and be so heartfelt — I don't think anyone could fake those feelings — because he would go back and forth — you know. One day he would write in a letter what he wants to do to a kid and then he feels bad about it. I mean, you don't fake that. L: Did he ever, in anger, say he would do anything to hurt your children? J: No. Except that one letter, he wrote to me saying, "I am only using you for money. All I really want is your kid — blah, blah, blah." L: Did that make any sense to you? J: I laughed about it. I thought it was funny. Because he thinks 'he is so BIG AND BAD' and that was his final artillery. He, he uses his child molester to hurt me and I could see right through it. He didn't know how he could really hurt me, therefore, he didn't do it. Cause if he had written something like the April letter where he said "I've been up all night wondering what love is all about and I have no feelings for you" — that would have really crushed me. But when he said he was using me for money, it was so wildly out of proportion, I knew it was just his anger — I could see it — he is very transparent. He's very immature, you know, very much like a little child. So, of course, it upset me, but again it was just like the first letter. I didn't want him to go away. That was always my fear, that he would go away and I always — our entire relationship, there was two parts to me. There was part of me that knew deep inside that he would never ever leave. I don't believe that he had the power to leave me, I don't believe, I don't think he ever would have left me, ever. I honestly, from the bottom of my heart, I don't feel like he would've. L: When you say leave me, you don't mean in a physical sense but in an emotional sense? J: Right, I think he would have stayed with me forever as man and wife. But, due to my own insecurities and my own fears and jealousies and my own hang-ups, you know, I was always afraid, don't leave me, don't leave me, don't leave me. In a million different ways, every kind of way you can think about, you know, it was just a fear, I guess. But, ah, so during that month, you know, he was very nice, very sweet. He was sending cards all the time. He wrote me every day but when he wouldn't say, "I love you," it would just hurt. I told him about it later. He sent me this one card, it was so beautiful, you know, because he said, "I wish I could send roses." You know, it was Easter but he didn't put I love you and that card didn't mean nothing to me. I cried when I got the card because he would tell the kids he loved them. And I knew it was different but still it hurt. But later, I was glad that that happened because I always knew if he did tell me he loved me he meant it. So there was a double-edged sword. So from then on, I knew he would not tell me he loved me unless he meant it. L: During this period of time did he discuss other people who were writing him with you? J: He always did in a round about way, you and, yeah, you and R—. Yeah, he would tell me everything that was going on. L: What did he tell you about R-? J: He described her as she's a friend, she's like a mother, sister, analyst, she's studying me and she visited me for a long time, he told me he'd told her everything about him, you know, she would try to talk him out of — I don't know exactly how much he told me. He just pretty much described their relationship, at that point. L: Did he ever express to you that he was dissatisfied or uncomfortable with that relationship? J: At that point? No. L: Later, what did he tell you about his relationship with R—? J: Well, after May 8, May 2, he wrote me a commitment of marriage and a week or so after that he wrote me a letter and he said you're not going to like this, R— had said she had seen the owl in the daytime and that meant that he was going to get his wish, to die that year. She had told him that, plus she was engaged and a few days later he told me he that had taken everybody off his list — but me. Well, that upset me, not because they were off the list. I felt like he must have some petty feelings for R— because she got married. I had never been jealous of her in that way. I wrote back all the stuff, you know, I flipped out, jealous, my jealousy came out, wild. What is this, you know, and he would get angry because he'd say, 'there's nothing to be jealous of, I promise, she was like a grandmother, you know, I never had real feelings, you know, love feelings for her.' And, you know, with me it was — later on, more of it came out but then. I pretty much believed him. He said I don't know how she perceives it but he said her getting married had nothing to do with it. Said, 'I took everybody off, it wasn't just her, I took everybody off but you, because I just want to be with you,' and, a, so that was pretty much it then. He was just, ... he said that everything was done with her, nothing else, you know, he said, he was pretty disgusted. He didn't want to tell her about me. He did tell her about me, I know he never wrote her anything about me like he did to you (meaning Lori the interviewer) because he would, like, throw me in her face, that's what she would say. He told me in August, the first day I got there — when I got there, he said, "R— keeps telling me I throw you in her face." He said, "If I was going to throw you in her face, I haven't even begun." He said, he was so cute the way he said it, "If I wanted to throw you in her face, I'd say I got somebody that is beautiful and perfect that is everything I have ever wanted. You've never had anybody like that." He was so cute the way he was telling me, you know, what he would do if he really wanted to tell her off, you know, sorta. What she was accusing him, he said, "All I did was tell her about you like she has always told me about her relationships." He said. "All I did was tell her." He told her that we were married and, so, anyway, that was that about R— until later. L: What about A—? J: Uh,... I hesitate to say alot. Because I feel like, in the way that he wrote back to you about me, alot of him writing to A— about me that way was in the same frame of mind, even though he wasn't angry, he wrote, you know, he'd get very mad at her, and the things that she would say, and you know, he would write alot of nasty stuff. L: Do you feel that he would say those things because he was angry at himself more than the person? He seemed to get angry when he was confronted with realities that he wasn't ready for. J: Yeah, and then, there was some real anger there. He said, when I left her, we were roommates. The fact that she made more out of the relationship after he was a serial killer. They probably would never have spoken to each other if he had not murdered three children. I left her, he said I just left her one day. 1 took my stuff and moved out... He would just go on and on and on about A —. And I always knew that if there was a lull in the conversation, I could bring her up and it would fill up the hour. L: How about T.S.? Did he tell you about T—? J: At that time, no. I don't know how well he knew T— at that time. He'd probably just begun that. It wasn't until later that he told me about T—. L: Did he tell you how he felt about T— then? J: Yeah. He would tell me about T— and he'd received this letter, this was after October though. T— wrote him a letter, after they had upheld his decision to waive appeals, that said if you ever doubt yourself, then look to me and the way I feel about you and you can believe in that and he said that made him cry. And he read it over and over and then later on, he sent me that letter, and he said, along with a pack of other things, one from a woman who wants to help kids, and one from a wonderful, kind-hearted reporter that wants to do nothing but good and every time I read this letter I get, and he put in quotes) "something in my eye." So I knew then that he was close to him and then, he would discuss it now and then, about interviews. When I went there in August, he had written a letter, the only one that I lost, and I really hate it, is a rough draft of a letter he sent to Senator Jersey saying about his history. And that was the only history that 1 had of him. He always said that he was going to write me his history, from beginning to end. My own personal autobiography. I guess that's what you'd call it. He really planned on doing it and then he wanted to wait until after I'd seen him in person. He was so afraid that the prison would keep us apart. For some reason, he was always terrified of that. And, I remember that he wrote that, "I'm going to wait till you leave to write it." But then, they really started messing with his mail. He couldn't even write things to his doctors. So, it was too late then. He wrote that letter, and he gave a copy of it to T—, And T— had done a news special on it, and when I got there in August, he said to look at Channel 42, because T— is doing shows and everything. So that was when I became, learned more about T—. (Break in the interview) L: Okay, right now you are looking at two pictures, one of you and your son and the other one of just your son. These pictures caused quite a controversy when you sent them to Wes. I was wondering why you chose those two pictures and why you think it caused such a problem for the prison? J: Well, for one thing, I was very naive and stupid. But second of all, I've always, I am an artist and I always wanted to take good pictures that I've seen other artists do and I didn't have the means to do it. So, I would take, ... I love antique clothes and I would set things up. These are nothing. Some of the pictures of the kids are nude, but very artistic, nothing showing. I wanted to capture their beauty while they were that age. These were really the only ones I have. I have a bag of about 30, no, more than that, about 50 rolls of film I have never developed, but these and another set that I did of my daughter, that the prison kept one, even, in their file of (Wes), it was her in her antique gown — with all her dolls — I still have it, I took it up there and showed him the picture anyway. But I had a poster of it in my daughter's room. On her wall. It was huge (meas¬uring with her hands). They wouldn't let him have it. It was just the fact, you know, I was sending him a picture of my kids, probably because it was on a bed, just everything, you know. But, and, to be honest, the picture of my son in the diaper — at that time I didn't even know that he had molested a child that young. I thought all his victims were 8 or 9ish. I didn't have no idea that he had ever liked a baby or anyone in diapers. And I really, I know this sounds stupid, but I was really naive about it. And I chose this one picture, it didn't have anything to do with my son. It had to do with letting him see what I looked like with more weight on me. It was the only one I could find where I had started to gain weight and I wanted to be honest with him about my weight. I couldn't find any pictures, so I chose this picture for me. This picture and another one in a green sweater by myself, my son wasn't with me in that one. Really, my son didn't have nothing to do with this picture, with me sending it to him. This one I wanted Wes to see how pretty he was. The reason was, when you love someone and you love your kids, and I wanted him to see how beautiful and gorgeous they were. L: The reason that I asked you about that is because most people would not understand why you would send a picture of a young child like that to a man who had done what Wes had done. J: I asked him about this. We had discussed that. L: You and Wes? J: Yes, I asked him if it was okay for you if I send pictures of the kids and he said, 'Oh, yeah.' He said, and I believed him, first of all, he told me what the elements were that excited him. He said, 'I want to see hands and legs and shorts and body.' He was like that even with me. Nothing was sexy to him, not lace, gowns, nothing, the only thing that excited him was complete nudity and that was the way he was with children also and he said faces 'don't do anything for me.' I felt just knowing what my son looked like wasn't going to do it one way or the other. I really didn't, I was so in love with Wes, I really, I just really sent it to him like I'd send anybody a picture of my children. L: You didn't feel in your heart that it was inappropriate? J: No, never, no. L: And when you discussed it with him, he did not feel it was inappropriate? J: No, in fact, he got very upset. Because he had received lots of children's pictures that were intended for that. L: From the general public? J: Everybody wanted to send him pictures of their kids, he said. It was CRAZY. He said everybody, that CK—, and that girl, JS—, she sent pictures of her kids. That guy, I think he was a pervert. I think he wanted Westley to look at his grandchildren who he molested and wanted to KNOW that WES was having feelings about the SAME children that he was having feelings for, making his perversion better knowing a serial killer was hopefully "getting off" on his victims. That was REALLY sick and Wes said he tore those pictures to shreds and flushed them down the toilet. L: Okay, now we'll move forward past that bad period where he was trying to separate himself and figure out what his feelings were, which would have been March and April of 1992 — J: (Jan burst out) No, it wasn't March. March was totally passionate! L: Okay, — so — J: The first letter was at the end of March, March 30 was the letter where he had the three day thing. And he had started to write me a passionate letter. It was really, literally the entire month of April — L: Okay, this letter which, I believe was right around the beginning of April, where he wrote to you and started out positive. A relationship between you and him and later on, in that letter, it developed into talking about child molesting and some pretty awful things, really . . . J: That was March 30, that he wrote that letter. L: And he could not get that out of his mind? J: Right. L: After that period where he was struggling — J: And then he wrote the letter the next day — don't leave me, I get angry. Yeah, then it was, I said it, but I'm not sure — in that month we went through that period and I was, like, walking on eggs. And I told him finally, "I just gave it up to God, I said, I trust in the Lord and I'll trust in Westley Dodd, if it's meant to be, it's meant to be. I will wait, until you figure it out." And so toward the end of April, though, I was becoming very — very tired and I finally wrote him and said, "I love you and I love you more than a friend." L: The letter I just handed you, a correspondence between you, .. . well, those are your actual letters, are they not? J: Uh-huh (Looking at the letter nodding her head yes) L: That Wes sent to me where he went through that period and that was your response to that anger and frustration. J: Right — (still reading the bitter notes Wes had written on her letter) L: He comments on those letters in his anger. Actually, when he got those letters he was at the peak of that anger and he commented negatively on those, but the truth of the matter is when that was all over, you received a letter as well as I did that was the exact opposite of everything he said there. (Break in interview) L: What he wrote there in his anger, just a brief period passed before he started writing both you and me in a whole different light. He told me about his commitment to you. But during these letters here he shows extreme anger. Would you agree with that? That his comments on there are negative. J: Yeah, (Laugh) But I know him so well. L: You have to know him to understand that that was the method he used to separate himself from his feelings. J: (Still reading) L: He had a way of responding to every little thing that someone would write. He sent you several letters that other people had sent him, I'm sure, where he had done the same thing, J: Yeah (She laughs). L: Now those comments were written on there the day he received those letters. Around April 3rd. J: It's just so .. . This is just so typical Wes. L: Would you agree that he uses things like that to vent his anger towards himself or other people. J: It's his cynicism. Yeah, it is directed towards himself, you know, when he does that. "Why are you sending it to me," you know, "Look at what I am." It's self-hate, and he's throwing it back on me, you know, what he's feeling about himself on me. In other words, I should feel about him the way he feels about him. In other words, "She's sending a letter to a man who wants to use her kids as a sex toy." Well, I wasn't doing that. That's his opinion and I don't think he really wanted to do that either, but he knew that he could use that for an argument. So he does it, and he always did that. He would do that with JP— when he got mad. He would say "I'm gonna write her and tell her all I wanted to do was use you for CH—. That'll get her." I knew that she was just like me. She didn't care. That wasn't gonna get to her. What he wanted to do to CH—. But to him, he was like a child. That was the most horrible thing that he could think of because, to him, that would have been the most horrible thing he could think of, doing that to CH—. So the very things that were horrible to him, of course, in actuality, it would have been horrible to me but his thoughts didn't kill me. His thoughts didn't kill CH—. His thoughts hurt him more than anybody. (Still looking at her letters) You know, I see him so clearly, I see his pain. In fact, when you told me all this stuff, I really thought it would be worse, to be honest, and maybe it did get worse. I mean, this is just like what he's always written about everything. Like his reasons .. . like his . . . Yeah, this is just cynical Wes (Laugh). It's so funny because he says, "I tell her to get lost and she still wants to know if I want her to visit. She will not believe I don't love her." In the very letter that he told me to get lost and he didn't want to see me anymore he sent me a form and told me to fill it out. (Laugh) He didn't realize he did the same thing, you know. And sometimes I would get angry, you know, and I would be very tempted to do to him, but I wouldn't do it. I wouldn't play his game because that wouldn't get me anywhere, you know, because I could have torn his letters to shreds and shown him every inconsistency also, but there was a part of me that said, I'm not going to do this, you know. L: It seems kinda funny because I'm reading these comments that say "She just won't believe that I don't love her, and a few days later there's a letter that says "I made a commitment to J—" and so he knew that what he was doing was trying to separate himself because he didn't understand these feelings, because they were new to him. (Break in interview) J: — It was all in that little period, right after, it was, in that three weeks, he cooled off right after that and even though he wouldn't commit himself, that was when he finally would say, "I love you," again or, "Your body is mine." I could tell he wanted to but he was afraid to, he wasn't quite ready. And the same day that he wrote me his commitment, I wrote him a letter and said, "Look, you know, I've waited," and I said that I can't not tell you, "I love you," you know, I just had to tell him, "I love you, and I don't love you like a friend, I love you like a husband." It was like I'm not going to fake it any longer, you know, "If you want to reject me go ahead but this is the way I feel. And I gotta put my cards on the table." I said, "I feel like a bomb is fixin' to drop on me." I felt like he was going to do me in again. Ever since this, it hurt me so bad I literally felt that month that I was waiting on the bomb to fall. It was funny, because I wrote him that letter and the next day I got in the mail his Bible. And he always told me, see, it has his name on it. It was his special Bible. L: Can you hold that up? (She holds the Bible up for the video camera) J: And so I wrote him then, you know, I answered him with a little special card. And the next day I received his marriage vow. So I wrote him back and said, "I guess your Bible was the bomb I was waiting for. It wasn't exactly the kind of bomb I was waiting for and your marriage vows was the full payload." You know, I was totally expecting to be dumped. Instead, I got a commitment of marriage. I'll never forget that day, because, every letter I got, and he knew how much he had hurt me, he would say, you know, — my hands would shake when I would get his letters cause I didn't know what they were going to say. I got three that day and so I felt like that was positive. One was to the kids, I read the kids' letters first and it was really happy. He had all these little cutouts on it. So I knew he was in a good mood, then when I read the card it was like I couldn't believe my eyes, you know, like I would read line to line — he was talking about marriage and then when he started in with the scriptures, I knew then that it was a vow, marriage vow, like, my heart — I was so happy. But then 1 was scared to be happy but I didn't care. I was going to take it and go, you know. I felt that entire day that everybody should know. I felt like everybody that saw me should know I was married. That they should come up and say, "What happened?" I really felt like it was that evident in me! L: Well, now, with that commitment that he made to you, you felt that you were married and he felt that he was married. Did that change later? J: Not really — there were times that he went through — uh — scriptural — yes, as far as being really, really married — yes — he felt that God would want us to be legally married. As far as his commitment, he kept his commitment, he knew it was a serious commitment and I don't think he would have ever broken that commitment. L: Now is it true that in State of Washington Penitentiary on Death Row inmates cannot get married legally? J: We don't know. He, when I got there in August, the first three or four sentences he said to me was, "Well, I guess I'm going to write the chaplain a letter." It was like he was so happy. I was content with our vows — I always was. That was enough for me but he wanted to be legally married and I did, too, once he did — but, he, what he asked — see I told him maybe the chaplain would just watch us say our vows that we had already said to each other. So that, he really thought he could, so he asked, "Since we can't get married will you witness us saying our own vows to each other." And I had the papers where he said, "No, he wouldn't do that." So, he gave him a stack of papers, the infamous stack. That we, he said it was too much, that we would have to go through it together. It was all kinds, he said it was basically the legal proceedings. Before I could marry him I would have to read all his prison records, know everything he had ever done. So, I, he would have to copy all his records and send them to me and I would have to read them before we could get married. And it was just — and it would have been public record. Uh — there was just a lot of things — so and he was very scared too about the kids, somebody might do something to the kid. I don't know, but he would write, like, every month. Usually he would write an anniversary card or if he didn't have a card he would write it on a piece of paper, special. And I think in October his anniversary card — Okay, I was there in August, going back in November — we hoped it would be earlier and he said — uh, maybe our next anniversary we'll be filling out the marriage papers, and that was in his anniversary card October 8, when he said that. On October 8, of course, he called me that day for our anniversary, that morning we had talked, then when he called me later in the day about the news that, that — that his execution is going forward. L: That was October '92? J: (Nodded her head up and down for yes — no sound) And, so, that day he was very upset and I was very upset and his voice was quivering and I was crying and you know, sometimes in that period between October 8 and when I got there was the end of November, he had just thrown the marriage papers away because he knew there just wasn't enough time. That was what he said. L: But you believe, had the execution date not been set, that he fully intended to proceed with filling out those marriage papers to legally marry you? J: According to him, you know. L: You always knew him to be — J: He said we could decide together. He wanted me to read all the papers. We were going over it so we could decide together. L: Did he ever try and hide anything from you? J: How would I know? — Laugh. L: About who he was? J: No. L: Did he ever try to deceive you about anything that he had done in his life? J: No. He told me, in fact, you know, there were a lot of things — he'd say, when I'd ask, he'd say, do you really want to know this? You know, like, I'd ask him if he'd ever kissed, little things, that, I don't know, all I wanted to know — there was things that 1 would want to know sometimes and I always told him, "If there are things you want to tell me, anything." But I wanted him to know that he had a haven away from that. I wanted him, I wanted to show him a future. I wanted him to feel like that he had someone to tell about that, but since everyone his whole life had been that. His whole life had been that. His entire aura and persona was that. All his questions were that. Everybody that came to see him talked about that — that's all he was encased with. I wanted to give him something, an oasis of love away from molesting kids. And so I tried not to, you know, of course, it came up, you know, but I wanted our relationship, him to learn that there was love and there was sex outside of kids. That there was love outside of kids. At the same time dealing with it, you know, dealing with that problem that he had, you know, cause it was present. I wanted to deal with it the same way I would have if he wasn't "Westley Dodd." L: Okay, you feel then that you knew a different part of Westley Dodd? J: More so now than I did then, because that was the only Wes that I knew then. Later I saw more of the Wes that talked to you. More of the Wes that from the public. The Washington Wes and the Press Wes, I didn't know at all. In fact, it was later on, by going to Washington that I found out that there was a different part of him than what I — what he was to me — I found out what he was to me and I found out that what he was to me was probably a personality that he was only with me. I mean, because, I started thinking, you know, of how arrogant he was to everybody. And after our vows there was only two of his letters that he ever showed anger to me, ever. The first one, the first one he wrote me, was because I wat trying to get him to read his Bible again and he was really stubborn about it. And he wrote me a very angry letter. Then he flipped out and he tried to call me for three days straight. He couldn't get me on the phone and it worried him to death. Cause it was the only angry letter he had sent me after our marriage. He finally got me, he said, "Look, I wrote you this letter, and it was very angry and I'm sorry. I just want to tell you it's on the way and you're going to get it." And so, uh, it was just typical Wes. The next time it was about being jealous. He blasted me for being jealous, saying there's no, no — he says — then it was so funny, he wrote me this letter blasting me about being jealous and then about a week later I get this letter. He says, "I know I joke a lot about you being jealous." — Joke? He was real angry, you know. — (Laugh) He said, "But to be honest it excites me like crazy. You know, (A lot of loud heavy laughter) especially when you threaten to hunt 'em down." (More laughter) That really gets, you know, that was so funny — he was such a paradox — L: Okay, so later on, let's move on to October of 1992, that is when you went back to Washington, that right? J: Yeah, but there was a period there after our marriage vows that was very different, uh — I saw Wes literally, — he was always in love with me but I saw him literally fall in love. — I can't explain it — I mean — it was like he was being swept up. It was when he was drawing the houses and making plans. I found out he was planning on appealing all that time, too. He really was a different person all together, you know, I mean he was in heaven, literally, for the first time. L: This is a period — J: — (She raised her voice and continued to talk.) He was sending me songs, writing me songs. L: He was doing, what we might call architecture, where he was constructing homes that you would live in, right? J: We did live in those homes, you know, cause he wrote me all kinds of fantasies, each room, the washing room, the barbecue pit, I mean, like, our whole life. What had happened was for three days he didn't get a letter from me. And it seems so funny, three days, but he flipped out and he even wrote me. Even then after our marriage and everything, you know, are you breaking up with me? You know, cause he didn't get one in three days — he wrote me after Relationship with a Pedophile on Death Row ♦ 217 that. He said, "You know, I know, I know I've had my doubts before about loving you but when I didn't get a letter in three days, I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that I was in love because I never had that kind of torture before." He said, "Now I know what you went through." You know, back in those days when he hurt me because he thought the prison had broken us up or else that I had dropped him. So it was after that that he totally surrendered is what he did. He would write me, you know, like, call me his wife. He was just totally into being married. L: And did — is it true that your son called him dad? J: Yeah. L: He seemed real proud of that. J: Yeah, he did that all the way, yeah, yeah, he always called him dad. He sent him a Father's Day card. That was what he was crying about in that article you read yesterday. He was talking about the Father's Day card, you know. Yeah, in August that was literally, that was like our honeymoon. That whole time, that whole visit was the happiest we ever were, you know, just his letters and everything he said. He was like perfect, he was just so happy. He told me he would appeal and that whole time we thought we were going to have a life together. L: What changed his mind? J: The day I left. He broke down. It was the saddest letter, because the whole letter, how he was going to love me, what he was going to do to me and then, the day I left — he said they were going to come and write him up for the water retention in my cell. "Because — I broke — I lost it —." and he just said, "1 love you. I want to stay in love with you." He said, "Because of you, I have lost all my violent fantasies and most of my molesting ones." But he said, "I can't appeal. It was all about the boys he had killed. About Billy saying he was sorry. What he had done to all the people he had hurt. When he saw me leave that day after we had that dream time and he realized he couldn't go with me. He had to stay and I knew it hurt him so bad. He just said, "I can't appeal." He said, "I want to make one person in this world know in her heart why I can't appeal." I didn't even bother to argue, you know, cause 1 knew if he was ever going to make that decision, it would be just his to make. There was no words, no magic words — L: So, do you feel that he was remorseful? J: Terribly, it was total remorse. L: Did he express that remorse for killing the three boys? J: That was what the whole letter was about. He said, "People don't think I hurt bad, but, I hurt. You have no idea how much I hurt. Billy, that poor kid telling me he was sorry. You have no idea how much I want like to tell him how sorry I am." You know, not just the boys he murdered but all the other ones that are still alive that I've hurt. The things that he had done and everything. And he said, "You know, maybe God can forgive me but I can't forgive," you know, "myself." He said, "Even if God finds a way for me to live, he's going to have to show me a way to live without me hearing that little boy telling me that he was sorry — that is something I can't live with. L: Do you understand why he never let the public know that he was remorseful? J: Yes and no, you know, that's kind of like saying what is life, I mean, I understand, I can see it both ways. I think — I think, if there had been more time, I think if there had been another year for him to grow with me being there and him seeing the doctor. I think, if he had a place not on death row where people were beating on cells so he couldn't sleep all night. B— made a statement that I think was very apropos. He said, "It's pretty sad when a thirty one year old man chooses to die because just because he can't have a decent night's sleep." That pretty much, it sounds funny, but I mean, you know. There is a lot of truth in that statement. You know he was worn down. He stayed in a state of being worn down to where I feel like his decision, if he had been in a healthier environment, would have been different. Of course, I'm speaking, you know, of someone who loves him passionately. The general public would say, "Fuck you, you know, he's a child raper — you know." L: He often said he was tired? J: Yeah, he was tired, mentally, spiritually and emotionally. L: And he expressed that frequently. I don't know how many people actually heard that. J: I did constantly. L: You could hear him say it but how many people actually understood? J: I did. That was his epitaph. In fact, that, if anyone asked me to explain the way he looked when he was dead. He looked worn out. He looked like he had been drug by a truck, and not physically — he was beautiful. It was the spirit about him, like, I'm dead — you know — finally — I'm dead! L: Now, when you were there during that period. I guess you'd call it media madness — (Interruption — someone knocked on the door) L: Okay, let's talk a little bit about what happened near the end. When did you for the last time go back up to Seattle? J: Walla Walla? L: That's exactly what I meant. J: December 26. L: So December 26th you went to Walla Walla and stayed until after the execution? J: Yeah. L: Let's talk a little about what happened during that period of time. From December 26th until you last saw him which would have been in the mortuary. So let's pick it up around December 26, when you got there. J: I got there — and — that Sunday, he refused to see me. I went crazy. I still have my slip, I'll never forget that day, just hearing them say, "H-10 refuses." It just rings in my ears to this day. I wanted to strangle him, I was so mad. L: Why did he refuse? J: There was a lot of reasons, I think. He was mad, he was scared, and he was tired. He didn't want to face me at that time, he wasn't prepared. Weekends were terrible on him. Weekends were enough to do him in, now holiday weekends are disastrous. He had just been through Christmas Eve, Christmas and not being able to call me. You see, I was on the plane, so, he had a four day, you know, Thursday, Friday, Saturday and Sunday and he was — just dead. L: Depressed? You think, sad? J: Whatever he was, you know — L: Sometimes it was hard to tell what the problem was, huh? J: He was just like a turtle in his shell, you know. Dr. C. said that he was "angry because I was so dependent on him. That he was so scared, that the only thing he could do was get angry. L: So after he refused to see you that Sunday, when was the next time you were able to see him? J: He called me Monday morning and told me to make a call. I didn't think I'd be able to get up until, you know, two days — I called J.D. Tuesday and, by then, it was too late. So I saw him from Wednesday on. L: Did you see him daily? J: (Shook her head up and down — for yes but no words) L: What was the conversation like? J: If it hadn't been for him dying, it would have been the greatest time of our lives, I mean, it was just unreal, it was like being on a honeymoon. It was snowing outside. Being with the person 1 loved most. It was like a Currier and Ives vision. Being with the person I loved most. (Video tape — stopped and restarted — J— may have been crying) J: Well, I don't know, the last week we didn't want to talk. He was humorous a lot. We didn't want to think about it. We did a pretty good job of not talking about it. Saturday, I started crying. L: Saturday? What day would that be? J: He was executed Monday night and Sunday was our last day. Saturday I had been to the crematorium, that morning, and I told him all about it, every full detail. And, uh, it was sorta towards the end though but, uh, I don't know the last week — it was just — very good. L: Okay, so, let's move forward, there is a lot of media coverage, everybody is in on the act. They're talking about the crimes, they're talking about what a dirty dog he was, and they're talking about the execution. They are interviewing people and people are saying, "Hang him, hang him," while other people are saying, "Don't do it, this is wrong, don't do it." Do you know how he was dealing with that? — Did he deal with it at all? J: The only thing I know, is from the time that he went to Vancouver — the only switch I saw in him, was, for a year he had been, like, my Wes — in our world — he was a different person. He had surrendered himself to be not that media person. From the day he went to Vancouver he became aware again that he was that old Wes and it really depressed him very bad, I could tell. L: During this period, did he talk about his family? His family being his mother, father, sister, brother, that family. J: His mother had written him, and his sister. He had promised letters to Dr. C. so hand wrote some letters to me and wrote the little comments out to the side L: And what letters are those? J: The last letters his mother and sister wrote him. L: And you have those letters? J: That he wrote me, yes. And then at the bottom he wrote "J—, I love you." on each one. L: He hand copied the letters his sister had wrote to him and the letter his mother had written to him and sent you the handwritten copies of what those letters consisted of. J: Yeah, he even misspelled the words his mom misspelled. L: Did he tell you how he felt about those letter. J: I could tell that he loved his sister. He said that, when he was telling me about them, she said that she would tell her daughter about him. And he made some cynical joke, like oh yeah, child molester, but I could tell that it had gotten to him. It made him happy. And his mother, he had written back to her and told her about WD—, and I said well I'm glad you wrote her a nice letter, and he said it wasn't that nice. I think he was trying to downplay it. He said he was afraid that she might give the letter to some reporters. That he had thought of that afterwards. I don't know if he was doing it for my benefit, or what, but I have a feeling that it was probably from his heart. And he said that CH— was her grandson, too. He said my daughter, too, but it. . . CH— was really her grandson. He was always telling me that he loved CH— more than WD—, but it never bothered me because I loved WD—, even though I didn't know WD—. He didn't know WD— and he felt bad about all the things he had thought of doing to WD—, I think alot of that had to do with anger about RD—, I think he was very, .. . having a son meant a great deal to him. A normal life, to him. He would act like he didn't care. But he did. The same as with me at times, I think sometimes he enjoyed having a woman to gripe about. You know, "She's driving me crazy. And she's getting on my nerves." You know, it made him feel normal. (Break in Interview) L: Did you get see him on Sunday, the day before the execution. How much time did you spend with him that day? J: Two and a half hours ... or three hours. He seemed OK. He was more tense, the both of us were more tense, and the last thirty minutes was terrible. L: Was he emotional? J: He didn't cry, but, more and more, he was very sexual that entire last week. I mean very. But it seemed that a lot of our visits just got down to just staring at each other. Sometimes, like, for thirty minutes, we wouldn't break it. That was as close as we could get to each other. We tried but sex just doesn't work through glass. You know, not touching. Sex works, but not love, you know, not touching. I couldn't comfort him. L: You couldn't physically comfort him, but emotionally — ? Those last few minutes, did he treat you to something special during that last thirty minutes? J: What do you mean? L: Did you get to see a part of him that you normally did not get to see? — J: I had always seen all of him. L: As far as not being dressed, or anything? J: We always had a sexual relationship. Starting in August every time I went there, it was sexual. L: Can you elaborate on that? It is very difficult, unless you have a very good imagination, to understand how that took place, I'm sure people will say, "She must be crazy" because you were on opposite sides of the glass. J: Well, he took all his clothes off, even socks, I mean everything and, he would do things — did different things, touch himself, stick the pen down his dick — L: How was he able to do that with the guards being just outside the door? J: They weren't. There was a long hall — they were way in the back. Every now and then they might look out but only one time one walked by when he (Wes) was naked. And he stood in the corner and he walked by and looked in. Nothing ever happened. L: No cameras in there? J: No. L: It's kinda funny to me because, knowing how he was, and knowing his sense of humor, I can picture this. I can imagine that him being nervous about it, him not wanting to get caught. J: At the end though, he totally threw that away. He was just crazy. L: That last day he did this, took the jumpsuit off? J: He did it every day. That's all he did, everyday. He did everything. He bent over, pressed himself against the glass. Did jumping jacks, stand on the desk, spread his butt, did all kinds of positions. He is a very sexual person. L: What were you thinking? J: A one-man pornographic movie. He was doing all the sexual things — moves like women do in those women magazines. All those vulgar poses. You know, in men's magazine, they just sorta lay there. He was doing the poses that women make. All sorts of sexual things. He was making me go into, like, cardiac arrest. L: So these were things you hadn't seen before either? J: Before him? L: Yeah. J: No. L: And when he would do these things every day. I guess you were used to that. It was my impression that the guards stood near the door? J: No, and once he took all his clothes off in the attorney room and that is, there is big windows on the sides and the guards are right down the hall. That's when I was there in November. I remember they put us in that room quite a bit. And that last day he went and did it anyway. L: So you got to see him do this ink filler down the penis? J: Yeah, and a paper clip. L: He used a paper clip? J: Yeah. Two of them, it was real long. L: It didn't cause him any discomfort, any pain? J: No, he was very careful. Once, he put two paper clips and a ink filler all at the same time. L: I cannot imagine that! It must not be much different from a catheter. He could freely express himself with you? He was able to be who ever he was with you. J: Yes, that first visit in August, that first day, he said, "I'm in here for exposing myself. Now, if I can get up the nerve to do it to you. Cause he was very embarrassed, but once he did, he did not stop. L: So he was, .. . pure entertainment!? J: Yeah, I did enjoy it. L: I'm trying to picture you sitting on the other side of this glass. He must have cracked you up? J: Yeah - L: So you did know a part of him that no one ever really knew? J: Yeah. He would sit in front of me, you know, on the glass, spread his legs (she gives a demonstration by lifting her leg) He was, oooh, he would do crazy stuff. L: Now let's move from there, Monday, January 5, 1993, the day of the execution you weren't able to see him at all? Did he call you? J: (No answer — she shook her head, no) L: No phone call, no nothing. The day before had been the last time you were able to see him alive. J: Yeah. L: Now, during the execution I remember, I was on the phone with you during that period of time, so all of that is clear to me. After the execution what happened? J: I just hurt, more than I've ever hurt in my life. I had taken too much of my medicine. I was out of my medicine. I was in pain. Oh, and, I never thought that I would care enough about myself — to — ha — but I did. All I could think of was survival. I was, like, either kill me or give me something to put me out of my misery. I became self-centered because all I could do was, do anything to take this pain away, I don't care what it is, kill me, shoot me in the head. I don't want to feel like this. L: After the execution, how long was it before he was taken to the mortuary where you could be with him? J: The next day he went to Seattle. I'm not really sure, it was either the following day and that night or the next night. I think it was two nights later, I'm not sure about that. L: When they took him to the mortuary, finally, how did you know that he was there? J: This person who allowed me to see him before he was released, to the family. I saw him before he was turned over — L: Before he was turned over to his parents? J: Before he was turned over to be cremated, to the funeral people. L: Where was this that you saw him? J: I'd rather not say that — L: You weren't supposed to be able to see him? J: I don't know that. No one ever said I couldn't, you know, he was property of the State and someone from the "State" allowed me to see him. (She did not say — employed by the state) L: What took place then, you finally got to see him before he was cremated, before he was turned over to anybody. This is the last time you see him, what happened? J: I just looked at him, then touched him and got a little snip of his hair. There was a lot of grey in it that I had never seen. L: How did he look to you? J: Tired, he looked older. He looked a lot older in death. L: When you touched him, he was probably packed in ice, so he was cold, but how did it feel emotionally for you to be able to put your hands on him? J: Good, he was just very soft and cold, you know. — I wrote him a letter after I got home. It's like I had to write him one more time. I told him, you know, it sounds funny, but I could have slept there all night, comfortably, right there with him. It was like it was just him. L: When you realized that you weren't going to be able to bring his ashes home, what did that do to you? J: The only, my main concern was that he wasn't upset with me, that that wasn't the reason. The fact that his family would have his ashes didn't upset me. I was very happy that he had made peace with his family. I just didn't want to be left out. My main concern was did he go with them and leave me out, did he push me away at the last moment? When the chaplain called me, he said, you know, "I didn't want to call you at five in the morning." He had been up all night with this. He didn't realize that I wished he would have. But he, you know, told me that Wes's whole concern was for me — then I was okay with it. L: After that was over, how much longer did you stay there? J: What do you mean, in Washington? L: Yes. J: I went home as soon as possible, I think it was that Thursday I left. L: When you were coming home how did you feel? J: Terrible, I was sick. I had been to the emergency room to get some medicine. I was sick, 1 was weak and I was sick, I was scared, I was empty. I had nothing — just felt like — nothing — (Starting to cry) L: Okay, it's been — this is the seventh month now since he died. How have these last seven months been for you? J: Okay (Sobbing — crying — wiping tears — voice wavering) I didn't realize how much pain there was in our relationship. As much as I loved him, a lot of pain is gone. Even when I was most in love with him I hurt a lot. (Still crying) His crimes hurt me, 1 hurt for him. When he would hurt in prison, I cried. Every day I cried, every day. (Voice still off from crying — cannot control her tears) I cried more before he died than after. When I was writing my friends it was like, you know, I said, "It's like when I was all wound up with him, all consumed, my life was consumed with him." Even though I was madly in love with him there was so still so much pain all the time. His pain became my pain. (Still crying — getting worse) You know, the things he said to Lee. That hurt me so bad, you know. L: What things? J: (Crying so hard, barely able to talk) You know — He was gonna kill 'im the next morning — I would stay up all night crying — to know that he could do that — you know — He would write that to me and I know that bothered him too — And Billy and Cole all of them — P—. I could tell you all of them. I know all of them by heart L: When he discussed that with you, the pain you are feeling right now, did you see that same pain in his eyes? J: (Nodding her head up and down for yes — crying hard) More so in letters than in person. He was so happy when I was there — (could not continue). L: Did he write about that pain to you? J: (Nodding her head up and down for yes — no words). L: Do you have a letter that you could read a part of it, where he expressed that pain and remorse? J: No, not here, Dr. C. has it. L: What did that letter say? J: He just said, you know, what I told you before — about Billy saying he was sorry — nobody will believe that I hurt. I hurt more than anybody will ever realize — (crying) L: And that was the pain he was expressing for what he had done — to that child? J: Yes, virtually that he had to die to get away from it. He couldn't live with it. He said if God finds a way for me to live, he will also have to find a way for me to live with a dying boy telling me that he's sorry. Even if I live I'm going to die from a broken heart. I noticed that one sentence always stood out when he said, "I do this and I do that, writing letters to H—, sending money to the Missing and Exploited Children's Fund, they are temporary things. Nothing will ever wipe the pain and sorrow away that's in my heart." (Crying too much to continue —). L: He wrote letters to H—? J: He wrote him a letter. Yeah. L: Expressing his sorrow? J: Yeah. L: Let's take a break! (End of Interview with J™)

Author's Comment: The following is a letter written by J— to Wes, which he sent to me later. Wes's comments, which were written on J—'s letter, are in brackets and bold-faced, italic type. — LS Lori, Enclosed is J—'s response to my letter telling her no marriage and face reality. Apparently, she can't take a hint. I received all three of these letters on Friday, 4-3-92. She's begging me to never leave her, to love her . .. she still talks about marriage. It's unbelievable! I'm also sending you the pictures she sent me of her son — he's 7 now —they were taken at age 2 (?) and age 5. I'm also sending you the letters and pictures (drawings) I've received from her children — it will help you get a better idea of what's happening in this whole situation. Apparently they both LOVE me. (Her daughter's picture has me next to J—, and her dad at the bottom in a corner!) J— says her son looks up to me. - Wes Received 4-3-92 from J— (Exactly as J— wrote, underlined [italicized] and all) Monday, My Wes, I just put the letter I wrote Sat & Sun — very upset. Once more / want to ask your forgiveness — for my selfishness and non-understanding — you are enough for me the way you are — no matter what happens I will only be for you — with you — I'll do anything you say and help you in any way I can — please don't leave me — you have given me more than any other man has ever given me — emotionally, spiritually and sexually — all from 1 mo. — I cannot and will not ask for anything but that you keep loving me. Our love can be now, in reality, plus there's nothing wrong with dreams — whether they come true or not. Our dreams are better than the sick ones and they won't come true either. You have been under a lot of pressure for a long time — / have been your dependent — emotionally — spiritually and sexually — I hope to remain — in a 'husband' sort of way that — but I want more than ever before to be here for you. I want you to depend on me, for what I'm not sure — / don't have self esteem enough to tell you anything — everything I say is wrong or fucked up in some way — sexually — I can do that and love — I have lots of that. I wish I was rich and had power. I can pray to the one who does. I'm sorry for wanting and asking you to live for us. / just had a lot of hope, baby, I wanted to hope, I wanted God to turn things around. Now, regardless, things really are in his hands, they always were, but I won't pressure you and I beg forgiveness for ever doing it. I'm sorry. I love you. Don't worry about me. I want you to enjoy our love and our time together and at least have one thing that is not a burden for you, OK? .. . [Wes's note in left margin: she keeps talking about dying when I do or dying if she doesn't hear from me — her life is basically in my hands, but she doesn't want to be a burden!! I must love her and her kids will lose their mother! Gee! That's no burden.] ... As much as I want to die, believe me a big, big part of me wants to die the day you do. You wouldn't, can't live for me — I know if there was any hope, you would. If we could have contact, if we could be together — alone — I know you'd probably give it a shot . . . [A side note made on the page by Wes: No, I wouldn't] . . . but for you only. My present to you is I won't do anything bad to myself. / will go on and be a good mommy to my son and daughter... [Wes comments here, "I doubt she can be a good mommy"!!] ... If, WHEN! you die, I still say if, because only God knows, . . . [Wes retorts here, "God & everyone else on this planet! I WILL die!] .. . but if you die before me, you can still be my angel watching over me — You will always remain my lover for life — Death will not change that. I will look forward to being with you — no restrictions, no bad thoughts. Wes — I just got the BIG package for the kids, plus the money!! — Baby — you have done more for my babies than their own dad — they love you — my son soaks up your Christianity — He will always remember you as leading him to Jesus in a real way and putting him on the "right road" . .. [Wes: "Great! The kids love me and your son looks up to me, even though I'd rape and torture him. I'm not sure I'd kill him — he's too beautiful to ruin & lose — I'd make him help me kidnap & kill others.] ... As far as he's concerned, (and his mommy) you will be sitting right next to Jesus in heaven — He looks up to you and you are a big influence on him — I told you what he said last night, "Wouldn't you sure love to be married to Wes and him get out and not hurt any more kids." It was as if that was understood, how that would be the ultimate for us. My daughter always says "Why can't he just go to them and tell them he was sick when it happened, and he wants to get well". I think when the Kingdom comes, no telling what Jesus has in store — maybe children will run the government. That would be great. Thank you, my precious man, for loving me, for loving my kids — you are so wonderful. No one knows but God why you have your affliction, like Job, only worse, but, my sweetheart, you will be rewarded and the pain will stop. Jesus compares his coming to childbirth, oooooo! — before it is unbearable — I was screaming cut it out — then — relief — all the lights in the room get lighter and the peace — and love —. I want you to try to quit worrying. I know that's a big stupid statement, Wes, after what you wrote I'm scared I can't even talk to you in our normal way. When I say things I'm afraid you'll think I don't understand, but I wish you could try not to beat yourself up for having thoughts — don't stop fighting them, but if you could relax and not feel so guilty — I know you can't, I'm sorry — I can't say anything to help you. 1 just hurt, not wanting you to hurt or feel guilty when you do. I will pray, always pray. — I'm stupid — I'm just trying to think of new ways to fight that thing — that conflict — Please don't get mad at my stupid comments — I just hate them so much and feel so much pain wanting to relieve yours. I would happily give any of my members if you could go one day without that conflict. Loving you is like having a child with AIDS and watching him torment and suffer, not being able to be with him, no shots for the pain, and mental, / do know that, is far more painful than physical. So my heart aches, Wes. Don't feel bad sharing your pain or getting angry at me, I sure have dumped my pain on you. I only ask for you to always assure me before closing you love me and won't leave me. That is my unbearable, unlivable fear. It eats me alive. Now I really feel like that song, "Past the Point of Rescue" — but you have written — I couldn't believe it when I counted the letters. Someone was gunned down a few blocks from here last night, just on the news. I just want to hear from you — ooh — it will be like a shot of heroin — relief — oh, how I need that relief from heartache — I need to talk to you — I have things to say to you — important things. Call me, my sweet love. Please call, as it helps me save money — when I'm worried I get weak — Then I want some relief in any way. I wish I could give you relief. We could both take away so much pain — It's amazing what our two bodies could do. Lori asked me if I minded sending her your whole letter, not just 3-6 — I said I didn't care, so I did, but I'm not sure I'm ready to share all of us — 7 s//// feel protective and especially now. I've got to know we're still one — together. Part of me is dying until I know that. Got your letter — first — I know you are mad at me — I didn't tell you about my abortion to say I understood anything about you, Wes — I swear — I told you that like I told you about Mexico, hoping you would want to hear some of me — [Wes's comment in margin, "I really don't give a shit about you!"] I'm sorry you thought by saying that I was comparing myself at any way to you or your sickness. I'm sorry I'm like "the other women who write you." No, I don't have your sadistic awful feelings, but it still hurt, does that make my pain less? [Wes wrote on the side of the page — "Like I need to hear all your pain. Who cares"?!] I wasn't trying to tell you like, "Oh, now I understand murder" — even my letter I just sent, you will probably misunderstand when I said I had compulsions like you, not like you but compulsions, telling you my secrets — you don't care. / feel you are cutting me off — Why? You don't love me anymore? .. . [Wes's note here, "Never did!"] I'm sorry I can't be all those things, to understand, and I know sometimes you take what I say wrong. It's killing me ... [Wes remarks here, "So shut up and die already."] When I tell you my horrible secrets, it's because I wanted you to hold me and love me and comfort me . . . [Wes wrote — I've never comforted anyone in my life] not because I'm saying "I understand all about you." I'm not a pedophile. I'll never know that. I've never said I understand that. I've always said it's unimaginable to me. — Why do you think when I want you to understand me, it is only to say "I know what you are like"? I've been in a cell — but never will be in a cell like you and even if I was where you are, I still wouldn't be like you because of those sick things in your head. NO, I DON'T UNDERSTAND, 1 don't know why you think so much that I think I do. Have I told you I understand? I'm sorry 1 have given you that idea. I never will because I'll never do it — I thought about it — [Wes's marginal notation, "now she's in love with a man who wants to use her kids as sex toys and experiments. Make your son rape his sister and help me kidnap other kids"] NO, I don't understand. But there's one thing you don't understand and that is how much I love you — and how much it hurts knowing my only love is being tortured night and day and has been for a long time and there's nothing I can do to give you any hope and hearing how, being tortured, you will stop loving me, lump me with all the rest, go into your corner and leave me. Nothing wrong with drinking coffee, but it probably does make your nerves a little wacko — sometimes you may want to try like me, make it half and half decaf. Then you can drink twice as much! I drink lots of liquids too, Diet- Rite — no sugar, no caffeine, no salt. When I say pray for the best, It's not to spend 70 years in isolation. You think that's what I mean — I don't. You've turned everything I say into something bad. For a short time, I thought we were thinking alike — I have always wanted just "a time" from God — That is what I mean by the best. If he makes you live, then the best would be for your mind to change, (a miracle), I know — if not whatever you want is the best. I would like to have a year to visit you — Yes, I'm a selfish bitch — maybe the best for you would be today — I mean the best from God. I've never said you can "pull through." All I've ever wanted is for you to look to God to counter all the horrible thinks instead of giving in to it. I'm sorry, too, if that is wrong. I'm afraid to say anything to you anymore. You know when I say, "take the kids somewhere", I know better — Why do you jump on me when we've always said things like that all along? Going off to another world — I'm not that stupid — I know you won't get out. You have always fantasized with me — now you are terribly mad when I do — like I expect you to make it happen ... [Wes: "Well you keep begging me to"] Will you quit being mad if I just expect you to die and we go on from here? Please tell me — Whenever I say, "God is showing me your pain", "Letting me feel your pain" — it doesn't and never will mean that I know all your hurt and torture. I just want to share what you will let me share. If you won't shut me out. Wes, there is a BIG part of me that expects or knows you will die. There have been a lot of things I have wanted to say, but because of my denial, I was afraid by talking it might make it happen or something, even leaving out what God showed me. I have wanted to sometimes "face reality" but the possibility of maybe, just maybe something else. Hope . . . [Wes writes in margin, "Yes, hope, I hope I can get ahold of your kids and SHOW you what I really am, and just how much I "care" about you and them."] All you would have had to say is STOP, forget it. I will listen. I guess you have — again I'm sorry — I can't say enough sorrys. I'm sorry for all the ways and suggestions I've had for "helping" you heal — I'm stupid ... [Wes, "NO argument"]... I won't mention it again. [Wes: "She keeps saying she won't but she keeps doing it"] . .. Just tell me Wes. / want to be your wife —- You can tell me to do or not do anything. // you even want me anymore. I had just said I had "never" felt your anger. This is the first two letters I've ever felt your anger and it hurts but Id rather you write and express it than not, I guess the fact you even write an angry letter must mean you still care . . . [Wes commented in margin, "No, I don't still care! I tell her to fuck off and she thinks I care because I at least tell her to get lost? She has a serious problem!"] As long as you don't break off communication with me, you can get as angry as you want. Just know you don't need or have to let anything build up. You can "set me straight" anytime. I'm yours to tell anything to. Can we just start from here? Be in love what time we have together, sharing with each other as honestly as possible. We can love now — It may even be better facing facts. We may experience something God wants us to feel together, that by "dreaming" cuts it off — But dreams aren't all bad, as long as we recognize them for what they are. Wes, what my son said, you would have cracked up. He, "Mom, why don't you tell her about Wes?" Me, "Well, son, that would take awhile, there isn't much time left." SWEAT, SWEAT!! Therapist, "What? You can tell me, Son". His answer, "He used to kill a bunch of kids!!!" Therapist, calmly, "Oh"? You know how the assholes all act. Looking at me? like, Well? I don't like her! One of these days I wish I could say what I think like my friends do. Why do / always have to be "nice"? I hate that about myself. Just once I'd like to say something (to her, nof the kids), "Yes, Wes,? he's my lover, a cannibal, I'd love to suck the piss right out of him! Yummmmm!" "Oh, looks like our time is up now, we'll talk next week." My daughter came home from school with a temp. She's reading the comic books. They are great. She loves them. I read where you said, "she really picked Washington because of me? Give her a hug for me." [Wes's comment in margin to this was, "Yes, I'm great with kids. It's so easy for them to love me. That's how I was able to molest so many without getting caught!!!! I'm only nice to the ones I want sex from."] She craves love and or praise from adults. Wes, I know you have a duality when it comes to kids. Must you continually berate yourself whenever you have praise or fruit concerning children? [Wes: "That's why people let me baby-sit, even when they knew what I was !!!!!"] I'm not scolding. Do what you want, but it hurts for you to think so little of who I dearly love with my life. I look at your little lock of hair all the time in my locket and my special little two letters. Oh! Spiked hair is like my son's standing up. It was a joke because of the picture you drew of yourself on the little head envelope. I said you were so handsome with your spike hair. My daughter is going on and on, "Oh, this is such a good book!" She has put "Hanse" on each one and in a book they sent one book, The Next Step for Growing Christians, she wrote inside, "We love Wes" then showed it to me. My son just came in from school. CRAZY about the comic books. He just "checked" one out. [A friend] is reading it to him. I have them numbered in a big plastic file folder and they have to "check out" from me — so none will be misplaced or lost. You are so sweet. I sure wish you'd quit being so angry and mad at me. It sure hurts and scares me. Every day you don't call I know you are still angry, maybe, don't get angry because I said that! Wow — you haven't seen your mom in ten years. That means five years after their divorce. You mentioned being with Dad & Step mom — so I take it you had more contact with him. Why which last name? Has she been married again, etc? The only reason I would want to be decent would be to try to get pictures, anything they may have of you. Besides that, I would probably say nothing. Not that I wouldn't like to. I'd like to spit on them. But all of me belongs to you, they don't deserve my spit. I can't imagine parents like yours. Nothing my kids did or could do could/would keep me from them. Were you arrested or anything in younger years — Did they know about your molesting? What age did they find out, what age were you? The Vitamin E tablets still have the oil inside, you can pop it open. Wes, going back once more — If I've ever said I understand how you feel, it was always meant to try and empathize or comfort, never claiming to know or feel the level of your pain or loneliness. I have told you, Wes, I think of you always, hurting, in that tiny room, when I get up to pee at night, I hurt, knowing you are awake and hearing those noises that drive you nuts. Noise makes me, too, climb walls, / have to leave a room if the kids or someone even chews gum or smacks or at any way makes a noise that gets to me, [Wes says, "Serious problem"] so I can't imagine the pain of never having peace and quiet, I think of you when you eat, when you get mail, when your yard hour is — I'm NOT trying to tell you I understand — I'm telling you I love you — and you never leave my mind. The reason I said I couldn't do as good as you? All the studies, etc. your Christianity. There's just something recent that has made you very mad at me. I don't know if it was before when you wrote the letter and tore it up — I don't know if it's being built up, that you feel I take you for granted. / know I've asked way too much of you, but all unintentionally, only wanting you so bad. Besides "Not understanding" and the appeal thing what is it? Wes, it was partly from your letters I had hope. When you gave me the addresses I started not to even write, thinking you didn't want me to, but when I read "maybe my son could write some, too" I thought maybe, just maybe, then the Mr. Peter thing — we were talking and joking and dreaming. Now you are screaming at me how I don't understand — saying 1 say that I do understand — There's something that has made you real mad. Is it just all the pressure getting to you — you just can't take the pressure anymore? and then me pulling you trying to get you to live and putting more pressure on top of the conflicts, the war, that is always there — I love you — I want to hold you — that's all — o my God — If I could hold you — just that — just that alone — If I could touch you. Lori is supposed to come within a month. I don't know — something will have to give before then. She said she will talk to you Thursday. She said you told her it was up to me about our letters — I've got to talk with you first. I sent her one letter — the one you said to send 3-6 — and she asked for it all, because I was upset — I told her to tell you to please call — I just wanted to tell you I'm sorry — But now I have reservations about it all — It has all got to come and be from you first. You are going to have to tell me exactly what to let her have, and/or say. [Wes wrote, "If I told you exactly what to say and give to Lori, there'd be no point in you talking to her! I'll tell her myself! (A— wanted me to tell her how to testify in court!")] If we haven't talked like we always talk and were talking & writing then, I don't want to talk to anybody. She's the only one I would ever talk to, but I just want you to tell me and that's it. / just want my relationship with you — and you with her. You decide, I have everything you have ever written or sent, you tell me what to give her. Then after that, / just want you. Me & you — not anyone else. If you tell me "how things are", fine — but nobody else. / trust no one but you. No one. That has been the only reason I wanted, if you die, or when you die, whatever, before, for you to write things down for me like you talked of before. Only when and IF you ever feel like it. I'm not just talking details like with her, just what you'd like me to know. / can't stand hearing people speak with authority on you. I only want you to talk to me. And as far as she's concerned I want you to call the shots. I'm just too scared and too insecure. My mind is gone and burnt with worry. I, too, feel OLD. I'm going to take a shower, and pray, on my knees, for you — and for us for you you you. I love you. J— xxxxx Later on I don't go to Chattanooga tonight. I've been so upset. I told them 1 was going on vacation so I got 2 weeks. If, in June or whenever the court sets a date — if the attorneys do something like you said they might — and you knew it would last — 6 to 9 months. Would you want me to come there and spend that time visiting you? Or if not — If in June they set a date, my daughter stays in New York — would you want me to come there tor the four months or whatever time you had left? [Wes comments here, "I told her get lost and she wants to know if I want her to visit! She just will not believe I don't love her!"] I called American Airline and if I bought a ticket 21 days in advance to go to Walla Walla it would be a great rate $488.00 round trip for July 6 — to either 13, 1 week or 20, 2 week I could stay 2 weeks — That will be 3 days after your birthday — Would you want us to set that day for us to meet? or see if I could get the same for about 2 weeks later then I would be divorced? If you want us to plan that day — first next week — I'll file the divorce papers — I'll have the money. April 7 — chances are it might be through by then April 6 — Maybe I can do it before then — anyway — regardless, if you want to set that day — I'll put those papers in — maybe not till a few weeks because I don't want my court date to be the 2 weeks I'm there — I will save and buy my ticket as soon as possible — then I'll have 3 months to save for a place to stay — you'd have to help me on that one —. [Wes: "Right, I'll escape and look for an apartment for someone I'm trying to get rid of! Even if I wanted her here, there's no way / could find her a place to stay!!!"] no way I could afford a motel for 2 weeks. I'd also put in for my medi-cine and have that approved in advance — maybe the 8th till the 22nd. Regardless write and tell me if you want me to make plans and I'll go crazy getting the ticket within the next few weeks — Then will have 3 months to plan on where I'll stay etc. Of course I will have to break down at some point and tell my mother something — she'd have to agree to keep him or else I'll tell her we'll both ride the bus! My daughter will be in New York in 30 days. So — here's the thing, regardless of how I get there I want to set a day and get the ticket and work toward it — #1 Do you want me to come? *2 Do you want me divorced first? *3 There is no number three! *3 I love you! If you want me to, then I'm going to put it in motion — I better hit the aerobic classes because I sure want to loose weight first! I'm tired of day to day crap — I want to work towards something — and seeing you is the something! I don't know — I just feel something terrible has happened and your feelings for me may be totally changed — I don't know how, in one week — from the 18th big love letter — 22 Sat letter 24 letter today Dear Lord, let it be our moods — crazy from pressure, please keep our love alive, God. I hope and pray you are still mine. Please stay mine forever. You said yours forever 1 week ago — Please mean it. I go crazy thinking of loosing you. — CRAZY — The kids have fighting for 2 hours solid — mother's here. My mind is past gone - WES, I LOVE YOU, YOU KNOW I LOVE YOU, IF, NOT IF, HOWEVER I've made you angry I'M SORRY - ONE MILLION TIMES - I BEG YOU ON HANDS AND KNEES FORGIVENESS (I am on my knees now) Before my shower I got on my knees and prayed for God to forgive me for hurting you, THAT'S ALL I can do. I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU, I'LL NEVER STOP. I'm SORRY IF I've hurt you. I'll do anything to MAKE IT UP TO YOU. I'LL CRAWL TO WALLA WALLA! JUST KEEP LOVING ME. Please Goodnight, Your J-Always CALL ME PLEASE!!! going to mail this in the morning. The kids love their books Thanks again for being you! I miss you! [Wes: "I haven't been me. If I was being me I'd be writing terrible things to your kids! (She lets me write directly to her kids — she doesn't check the letters first!)] Author's Comment: When will we start to value our children enough to protect them? What is it that keeps us from actively seeking a remedy to the murder of children? The pedophile is counting on us to maintain the status quo. Why not disappoint the pedophile instead of our children? - LS June 11, '92 Lori, What's going on in my life that I've made a commitment to J—? That's nobody's business. What does it mean? I don't know. Change of heart? No. Do I love her? Not really. But again, that's nobody's business. What made me decide God isn't worth my time? He never was worth it. Those "studies" I was doing were about as phony as you can get — didn't even need a Bible for most of them — when you did need a Bible it was to copy down the last half of a verse. I didn't learn anything, and really wasn't trying to. I was just killing time, for lack of anything else to do. 5% remorseful about the murders. I'm only sorry that I got caught. No, I don't want to let the fantasies go. I enjoy them, and I like what I did. I've had dreams of doing it again. I write very little about what is happening within me — frustrations, anger .. . because it's no ones business, and what / feel now is not going to help anyone prevent similar crimes in the future. Sure I could say I'm frustrated & angry because the damned ignorant bastards in this country continue to let rapists go free, but what good does it do? I've said it on TV. I'm a criminal. No one listens. People in this country do not give a fuck what happens to their kids — The police don't care, (remember U—? — I had 2 convictions, I was reported for raping U— 3 times, and I wasn't even questioned by detectives — the same detectives were later honored for their great work in investigating cases like that! The police totally ignore repeat rapists, then get honored for it? Welcome to America!) I'm damned angry about that — but who cares? Parents don't. Police don't. Not the courts, not the attorneys, prosecutors, shrinks, probation officers — I have yet to find anyone who cares. Why even try? I'd do it again in a heartbeat, you can't change the entire judicial system and society — so why should I even bother? — Westley A. Dodd [Excerpt from letter dated 2-2-92] Lori, Now — remember I told you on the phone that I sometimes leave things out because I don't think they're important? (Like the 2 kids I just said I spent the night with — nothing actually happened, so I didn't think it was important, but it shows that kids are just too trusting and how easy it would have been for them to die, if I was in the mood to kill that night). Well — here's some facts about some of my crimes that are so insignificant that I didn't even think about it when telling you what I'd done to the kids. The facts I left out concern "little boys going P-P". No big deal — that's something everyone does. But — a little while ago I remembered something from my past. Before I tell you what it is, I'll tell you more about some of my victims, in reverse chronological order. When I molested P— on a regular basis, I did 2 things — suck on his penis, and simulate intercourse. I'd then go to the bathroom —If I hadn't ejaculated into a wad of Kleenex, then I'd do it in the toilet. And 1 always had to urinate within a minute or so after ejaculation. P—, also, had to urinate — he'd usually stand beside me and we'd go at the same time. When I molested him (sucked his penis) as he slept, he wet the bed almost every time. U—, after having his penis sucked on, usually had to urinate as soon as he lost his erection (sucking gives any boy an erection — most lose the erection almost immediately, but it often took U—'s penis over a minute to go limp after any physical stimulation). The point is, after having his penis sucked on, he had to urinate probably 80% of the time immediately afterwards, or within a few minutes). J the boy I took camping so I could molest him: I had told him to wake me up if he "had to go" in the middle of the night, so I could take him to the outhouse. I told him I didn't want him walking around the woods alone in the middle of the night (it was an excuse to be with him and see his penis when he pee'd — at that point I didn't know he wore no underwear and I'd see it (his penis) before he went to sleep anyway). Anyway — I sucked on his penis as he slept, then I went to sleep. The next morning J— said he couldn't wake me up so he pee'd right outside the car. The point — shortly after having his penis sucked, he woke up and had to pee. The second night I again sucked his penis, then simulated intercourse with him. A little later (he was on his stomach) I reached under him — it was pretty wet — I didn't think I had ejaculated that much. He had pee'd the bed in his sleep, shortly after I molested him. V— (H—'s friend). Whenever I molested him when he was awake, he went to the bathroom afterwards. The night I molested both V— and H—, one on each side of me as we slept (they slept — I didn't!), V— woke up a few minutes after I sucked his penis and he went to the bathroom. And when I worked late and lived with H—'s mother — I would molest or attempt to molest him before I went to the bathroom (often to masturbate) and then to bed. Pretty insignificant facts, huh? The key point is this: of the boys I was able to observe after molesting them, most usually had to urinate within a few short minutes. Big deal, huh? Here's another key point: I molested a lot of kids as they slept. Now — why did I tell you all this, and what is it that I remembered from my past? If I recall correctly, the event occurred when I was 10 or 11 years old — in the summer. Author's Comment: After many months of denying that he had been molested, Wes began to come to terms with some events that had occurred in his life. He related incidents of possible molestation, giving names and locations along with some times and dates. He said that he wondered many times if these incidents were just dreams, that they didn't seem real to him. For this reason, I cannot provide you with the information that Wes revealed to me concerning his molestation. I feel, however, that it is important for you to know that the possibility exists despite his public claim that it did not, as well as the fact that he requested I never mention it while he was alive. — LS So — I apologize for yelling at you and saying "NO I was not molested!!!! Because now I just don't know. - Wes Lori, Before answering the questions in your letters, I need to tell you a few things. In the last year or so I've been making a serious effort to change myself. Here in prison there's no temptation — no kids running around — (especially in summer when not much clothing is worn). Because I can no longer act out my fantasies, they are not any fun anymore. When I catch myself thinking about doing anything, even if it's just a thought of putting my hand a boy's pants, I chew myself out, and sometimes even hit myself in the testicles. I really don't want to hurt children, but the thoughts still come. I don't think about it 24 hours a day like I did before my arrest, but they still come. I have fantasies of "making love" to a boy once or twice a week, and give in and masturbate to those fantasies maybe twice a month. The thoughts of torture are completely gone, and thoughts of kill ing are rare — maybe once a month (as compared to constant when I was arrested), and I have not masturbated to thoughts of killing the last 4 or 5 times I have had them. I'm being hard on myself on purpose. I can't change what I've done, but I don't want to be that person when I die. I think a lot about Lee — I got to know him a little and had to fight myself and not allow myself to feel bad. Now I don't — I let myself cry. He was a nice little boy, not just an object. I can still hear him say "No you're not" when I told him I was going to kill him. Once I could cry for Lee, I could hear Billy telling me "I'm sorry." Why was he telling me that? I hear the boys asking "Why are you doing this?" I can cry for them all now. I can even cry now for at least a few of the kids I molested. Molesting H— really bothers me. He loved me, trusted me, came to me with his problems, and I abused him. It hurts. I hate myself for what I've done, I cry almost every night now, yet the thoughts still come — not as often and with less violence — but they come, and I hate myself for thinking such things. I really get angry when I masturbate to these thoughts. Sometimes I now masturbate but can't climax. Other times I just lose interest and stop. Neither of these ever happened to me before. No children to keep the fantasies alive — it's no fun any longer. The last time I wrote about the murders (for a social worker), I became sexually aroused and masturbated to fantasies of what I had done and wanted to do with the kids I killed. This time, I was not aroused when writing about the Neer brothers. That surprised me. When I started writing about how I had wanted to kill Lee, I became aroused and masturbated, I climaxed, but it wasn't pleasurable. It was more an act of habit than anything. Maybe one day I could erase all desire to molest or hurt children. But I have no doubt that if I were ever released, and I could again see kids running around, the old thoughts of molesting would probably return, and thoughts of killing would soon follow. I can't take that chance. I must die — it's the only way I can be sure I'll never harm another child. I don't want any more children hurt and I don't want any young sex-offenders following in my footsteps. I'm doing everything I can to help. I'll tell you — helping sure gives me a better feeling than my "best fuck" ever did. But those damn fantasies won't leave me alone. A few weeks ago I had a nightmare — I saw Cole's bloody body in the bushes and it scared me enough to wake me up. That's all I remember. Oh God I hate myself — those boys — I'd do anything no matter how much it hurt me, to bring them back. - Wes Author's Comment: But Westley Allan Dodd could not bring them back. And no matter how great his pain, it could never match the pain of the parents and siblings of those whose life he took. No matter how many tears he shed, his were but a drop in the bucket compared to the survivors of this tragedy. I couldn't find it in my heart to feel sorry for him and I felt a twinge of guilt for that, but only for a fleeting second, and never again. - LS Author's Comment: Perhaps by reading Westley Allan Dodd's own words you have come to understand the meaning of child molestation. As hor¬rible and detestable as it is, you have just passed through the world of a child molester. Did it seem too incredible to believe? Did the thought "it could never happen to me or my child" skirt through your mind? Sadly there are many, many parents who would tell you just the opposite. The parents of Adam Walsh, Kevin Collins, Polly Klass, Diane Nguyen Robbins, Daniel Dave Hohenstein or Randi Layton Evers can tell you the reality of a missing child. Some of them can tell you the reality of the molested and murdered child. Yes, it can happen to you. It can happen to anyone. The printed words of Westley Allan Dodd in this book were meant to help you understand the danger that your children, all children, face every day. I wanted you to know how a child molester thinks and what he or she has in mind for your child. Seldom, if ever, does the mind of any child predator vary from that which you have just experienced with Westley Dodd. It is heartbreaking, but it can not be ignored. Westley Dodd's perversion ended the lives of three beautiful young boys. No doubt, even as you read these words, there is on-going suffering in the lives of the countless other children he molested. My heart aches for those children. Dodd was a manipulator, a preferential child molester who spent his entire life trying to devise a way to obtain small innocent children for his own sexual gratification. Whether it was through the mail, as it was with his girlfriend J—, through television commercials or movies when he had no access to children directly, or through fantasizing with his memories of molested and murdered children, Wes Dodd lived and died a child predator. What happened to this young man that made him such a monster? I have no idea. I spent hours, days, weeks and months trying to help him discover the answer. He never found it. He said he could not remember a time that he did not have perverse sexual thoughts. He did not know where it came from. He did not know how to stop them. He lived with them until the day he died at the end of the hangman's noose. Because the child molester belongs to a secret society, it is sometimes difficult to acquire much needed information on how to protect children from them. I hope that exposing the lures he used to attract children, will assist you in preparing your children to defend themselves against other child predators such as Dodd. Although documentation shows that Dodd confessed to his crimes consistently, punishment was minimal. The fact that he told authorities what he had done to children, as well as what he had planned to do does not indicate he wanted help or was remorseful. He knew that if he appeared honest and charming that he would be back on the prowl in a short amount of time. And so he was. I believe that Wes was sincere when he told me that he hated everything about himself. He thought that he was ugly, unattractive and could not understand his ability to make people do what he wanted them to. I know he must have been viewing himself from the inside. Through his letters we have discovered together, you and I, that we must have a plan of protection. A plan that will, I hope, keep all children safe from the likes of Westley Allan Dodd. A pedophile is the enemy of all children. It is the responsibility of each and every adult to ensure that the enemy does not destroy our children. We must think of this as a war against our nation's children and act accordingly. The child molester does not travel to some remote area to abduct children. When the monster comes out of the closet, it can be in your own back yard! You may have recognized some of the names I listed a few paragraphs back. Some you have never heard at all. Whether you recognize them or not, all of them are dead or missing and their families are devastated. We must make every effort to prevent another child's name from being added to the already hundreds of other missing and murdered children. So now that we know that the dangers from these predators are real, what can we do to reduce the chances of your child becoming the prey of the pedophile? Let's start by saying that your children are just that, children. A child does not think like an adult, therefore cannot be expected to respond like an adult. Young children love to please adults and are extremely trusting. Because it will be difficult to teach a small child the abc's of the child molester, it is better not to ever leave them unattended and available for abduction. I know that it may sound silly to some of you who say you can not imagine leaving a small child unattended, who would do such a thing? How many times have you put your child in the car seat, then run back into the house for something you have forgotten? It can happen just that quickly! Keep in mind that a child molester's goal is to make your child a friend, by doing this he is no longer a "stranger." And what have we taught our children? Do not talk to strangers! Children see strangers as unattractive, scruffy looking people who jump out from scary hiding places. We need to teach them that a molester can look like any nice man, woman or teenager seen everyday. Empower your child by giving him/her authority over his/her own body. Teach them that they have the right to say no to any adult who makes them feel uncomfortable or whose behavior appears inappropriate. Most importantly, let your child know that he/she can trust you, and you will believe him/her if and when such an incident should occur. Let him/her know you love them regardless of what has happened. A child molester will often tell your child that he will hurt or kill the child's pet and/or parents. Tell your child ahead of time that you can take care of yourself and the pet. Know the lures, and teach them to your child! No one knows your child's personality better than you do. Plan ahead on how you want to present the child molester's behavior to your child. You do not want to frighten your child. It is important to tell him/her that most people love and protect children. Then explain the lures and behaviors of the molester. Educate yourself on the pedophile so you are properly equipped to help your child. Keep in mind that a molester can be a family member as well as a stranger! Many home training sessions fall short when parents and children encounter discussing human sexual anatomy. As a parent you should attempt to use anatomically correct terminology when teaching your children. Don't be afraid to let your children know that the penis and vagina are a real part of the human anatomy and can be discussed openly and intelligently. Your chances of getting a more complete and accurate report (should an incident occur in your child's life) are greatly improved by doing so. What will work in one family may not work for another. For this reason we must work toward the private and independent teaching of our children. Our best means of protection is prevention. Give our children, all children, tools and skills to work with. Maybe we can eliminate molesters by subtracting the readily available victims. Take it upon yourself to provide responsible adult supervision for your children. Share your plan with all of your friends, pass it on! Remember, these monsters are in the parks, on the playground, in the malls, on the streets and now they are entering your homes by computer! Before you start your first session in home training with your children, write down all of the information you want to cover pertinent to your children. Consider the current security of your child's environment. Test yourself on your knowledge of your child's world, such as: • Who are my child's friends? • Where do they play most often? • What are their favorite games? • Do I know the parents of all of my child's friends? • Do I have their addresses and telephone numbers? • Do I know who my child's best friend is? • Does my child have a secret place he/she goes to be alone? • How well do I communicate with my child? • Do I have current pictures of my child? In the development of your program you may also want to consider: • Developing a code word if you are unable to pick your child up yourself. • If your child is home alone, establishing a telephone check program. • Knowing the lures a child molester uses to entice children. • Teaching your children to protect themselves.