Inside the Mind of BTK

My Lifelong Hunt for BTK 65
Reading between the lines of the crime reports, I sensed that
Shirley was forever trying to straighten up her sad life, but never quite
could. By the age of twenty-four, she’d been married twice and had
three kids, all of whom lived with her. She raised them the best she
could, and, just like the Otero parents, she was adored by her kids.
Her oldest boy, Bud, was thought to have a cognitive impairment.
His sister, Stephanie, suffered from various learning disabilities. Steve,
at five, appeared to be the only member of the family without some
kind of learning or intellectual deficit. Shirley now lived with her husband,
Rick Vian, who was away at his job at a construction site when
the murder occurred. Her kids were frequently absent from school,
and, on that particular morning, they’d stayed home because their
mother had stomach flu and didn’t feel up to getting them ready for
class.
Earlier that morning, she’d sent Steve to a nearby grocery to fetch
some chicken noodle soup and 7-Up for her queasy stomach. At the
time, it wasn’t that odd for a five-year-old to run an errand like that
in Wichita. Vian phoned ahead and told the storekeeper to keep a
lookout for her boy. She also asked Steve to pick up two money orders
totaling $40. As Steve returned home, a stranger stopped him on the
sidewalk not far from his house, pulled out his billfold, and showed
him a photograph. He asked the boy if he’d seen either of the people in
the picture. Steve told him no.
The man, who was carrying some sort of a bag, continued to
question him about the identity of the two people in the photograph,
but Steve insisted he had no idea who they were. Eventually, the
stranger allowed the boy to pass. But as Steve walked off, he turned to
watch the man continue up the street, then stop at the home of his
neighbors and knock on their door.
The boy had been home about ten minutes and was mesmerized
by a cartoon show on TV when someone knocked on his door. He
opened it and saw that the same man who he’d talked to out on the
sidewalk was now standing on his front step.
“Excuse me, son,” the man said. “I’ve lost my dog. Have you seen
any lost dogs around here?”
“No, sir,” Steve replied, as the man peered into the house.
“Is your mother home?” he asked. “Let’s ask her. Maybe she can
help me find my lost dog.”
Steve stood there with Bud by his side as the man pushed past
them and walked over and turned off the TV, which Stephanie was