Inside the Mind of BTK

Q
Close to two hours had passed, and still no sign of
Ken Landwehr.
That didn’t surprise me. When a case breaks open, you do what you
gotta do. There was many a night while I still worked for the FBI when
I’d be sitting down to dinner with my family and the telephone would
ring. A moment later I’d hear one of my daughters shout, “Dad, it’s
for you ...Somebody from your office needs to speak to you. NOW!”
I’d answer it, and the next thing I knew I’d be sitting on an airplane.
Three days would pass before I returned to my home.
I got up from the bed, walked across the room, and grabbed
Landwehr’s CD off the desk and stared at it. It was tucked inside a
white plastic envelope. I sat down on the chair next to the desk and
stared at it, wondering what it might tell me about Dennis Rader.
In the weeks before my arrival in Wichita, I’d begun piecing
together some of the facts about Rader’s life that had gradually
emerged through the police investigation and my own research. I’d
located a number of his friends after obtaining a copy of the Wichita
Heights High School yearbook from 1963, the year Rader graduated.
I made a list of his classmates and began doing computer searches on
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