Inside the Mind of BTK

Meeting BTK: An Exclusive Interview 307
cially into self-bondage. I wasn’t a sadist. I never pulled the fingernails
or toenails out of anyone. Sex was never part of my fantasy, either. I
wanted power. I guess that’s what I was really looking for. That’s why
Nancy Fox was my most perfect victim. I got to spend plenty of time
with her without any interruptions.”
“Tell me about your neighbor—Marine Hedge?” I asked, hoping
to get him talking about his various murders. “You carried her to the
basement of your church.”
Rader twisted his face into another one of his ridiculous pensive
expressions. “Yes, she was a good one,” he said after a few moments of
thought. “I really enjoyed that one. But you know what? Over the
years, all the burglaries I began doing were almost as satisfying as the
killing. I broke into a lot of houses, stole watches and jewelry and
underwear. But it’s just like you wrote in your books. The fantasy is
better than the crime—because in my fantasies, everything was always
under control. I played the director and the lead actor. Like I told you
before, it’s just like watching a movie. I see myself committing the
crime, doing all the things I did in real life, only without all the
headache or frustration. Because in real life things never quite turned
out the way I wanted them to, the way I expected. My victims always
seemed to react in ways I didn’t plan.”
Then Rader said, “You know, if there was one killer who I could
identify with, it was Harvey Glatman.”
I knew whom he meant. I said, “Yes, he was into binding and psychologically
torturing his victims just like you. He was also the first serial
killer we know of who chronicled every aspect of his murders with
a camera and later developed the pictures in his home darkroom.”
Rader’s smile grew larger. The memory of this kindred spirit
appeared to have lifted his mood.
“Kris told me about the book,” I said. “Last night, she told me all
about it.”
“You mean Glatman’s book, right?”
“Yeah,” I replied. “Glatman’s book. You told her that if she really
wanted to understand you, all she needed to do is read the back cover
of the book, the last couple of sentences.”
“Kris told you that?” he asked, looking alarmed that she would
have leaked this bit of information to me.
“You remember what the back of the book says?” I asked. “Because
I do. I memorized it.”