Inside the Mind of BTK

Meeting BTK: An Exclusive Interview 301
describe his crime scenes with such uncanny precision. Rader
appeared happy to play along with me. His face once again took on
that serious look. His head rocked up and down, and his back
straightened.
“I remember every detail from every crime,” he replied. “I remember
every detail like most people do their favorite movie, and I play it
over and over again inside my head. That’s really how it all started
back when I was a child. I had these thoughts and images that played
out inside my head. The more I thought about them, the stronger they
became. I just got so caught up in them that pretty soon . . . they took
me over. I couldn’t fight them anymore.”
“I always felt you had to have had a camera in order to remember
all that detail,” I said. “You must have an amazing memory.”
Rader turned his face away from the camera and stared off at a
distant wall in the room where he was sitting. For all I knew he was
daydreaming; perhaps he had just imagined wrapping a rope around
Casarona’s throat. Rader had spent a lifetime doing just that sort of
thing—fantasizing not only about murder and torture but also about
being famous, powerful, influential, and superior to everyone. When
he finally returned and once again made eye contact with the camera,
he quickly went to work trying to hoodwink me into believing he was
a changed man.
“I’m trying not to think those thoughts anymore,” he said. “I’m
trying to have more control over my life, trying to stay away from all
those fantasies. It’s the only way for me now. When I wake up each
morning, that’s when the fantasies start—that was when they were
always the most powerful and uncontrollable. Paula always got up
before me, and I’d lay in bed thinking about all that stuff. But now I
try and block out the images. I try and think about Paula and the kids
and all the things I’m going to read and write for the rest of the day.
And instead of drawing bondage pictures, I draw happy faces. And I
read the Bible. Ask Kris. I often mention the Bible to her when we talk
or when I write her letters.
“I’m a Christian, you know,” he went on. “Always have been. After
I killed the Oteros, I began to pray to God for help so I could fight this
thing inside me. My greatest fear, even more than being caught, was
whether God would allow me into heaven or would I be condemned
forever. All my life I thought about that—even before I killed anyone.
I wonder if God might not accept me because of my deeds, no matter
how many times I ask for forgiveness.”