Inside the Mind of BTK

The Capture and Arrest of BTK 183
make the bodies decompose faster, which would confuse the cops
about exactly when the murders occurred.
As he walked out to the garage, he noticed the sweat—his clothes
were completely drenched with it. His rubber gloves were so full of
perspiration that they felt like water balloons. So much for being a
cool, calm master criminal, he thought.
He climbed into the family’s station wagon and started it. The gas
gauge revealed that the tank was nearly empty, which annoyed him.
He figured he had enough fuel to get back to the mall parking lot. A
few minutes later he arrived at the mall, killed the engine, and did a
quick inventory of all his gear. He quickly realized he’d left his knife
behind.
“Damn it,” he seethed.
If the police found it, he was screwed. So he raced back to the family’s
house in his own car, sped up their driveway, and slammed on the
brakes as he pulled into their garage. He ran into the house, searching
for his blade. His head was spinning. After a few minutes spent retracing
his steps and combing through every room, it finally dawned on
him what had happened. He darted out the back door and spotted it
lying in the snow, just beneath the phone line he’d cut. Rader figured
that he must have dropped it in all the excitement of seeing the boy
suddenly appear outside the kitchen door. Can’t lose control like that,
he scolded himself. He grabbed it, wiped the snow off of it, and
dropped it into his pocket. A moment later, he wrote, he was back in
his car, driving toward his house in Park City.
And in his journal I read his description of how his brain was on
fire. How he tried to think, but nothing came.