Timesuck with Dan Cummins - 166 - The Happy Face Killer: Keith Hunter Jesperson

Episode Date: November 18, 2019

The Happy Face Killer. Wow. What a dirtbag! What an especially hate-able dude, even for a serial killer. Keith Hunter Jesperson raped and strangled at least eight women in the early 90s. His crimes were hard to link together because of the spread out location of the bodies - women's remained dumped off the side of various roads as he traveled around the United States, working as a long-haul trucker. Keith wrote to the press during his murders and signed his letters with a smiley face, why he was dubbed the "Happy Face Killer" by a journalist for the Oregonian. And we unravel his life and crimes on today's true crime edition of Timesuck! Aiden's Heroes. A Portland-based, beautiful charity: https://www.facebook.com/aidensheros/ Check out Lynze and I's new horror podcast Scared to Death. Listen on Spotify, Stitcher, iTunes, Youtube, and more! Here's the iTunes link: https://apple.co/2MRMgai Donating $3500 this month to the Patriot Guard Riders nonprofit! - https://www.patriotguard.org/ Happy Murder Tour Standup dates: (full calendar at http://dancummins.tv) November 21-23 Grand Rapids, MI Dr. Grins (at the B.O.B) CLICK HERE for tix! ** November 23 Grand Rapids, MI LIVE TIMESUCK CLICK HERE for tix! ** December 5-7 Tacoma, WA Comedy Club CLICK HERE for tix! ** LIVE TIMESUCK Tacoma, WA Tacoma Comedy Club CLICK HERE for tix! December 26-28 Spokane, WA Spokane Comedy Club CLICK HERE for tix! Listen to the best of my standup on Spotify! (for free!) https://spoti.fi/2Dyy41d Timesuck is brought to you by the following sponsors: Leesa! Get 15% off your entire order at leesa.com/TIMESUCK - use the promo code TIMESUCK For Hims! Start with a FREE online visit. Go to ForHims.com/timesuckED Watch the Suck on Youtube: https://youtu.be/t1nFjwqdf14 Merch - https://badmagicmerch.com/ Want to try out Discord!?! https://discord.gg/tqzH89v Want to join the Cult of the Curious private Facebook Group? Go directly to Facebook and search for "Cult of the Curious" in order to locate whatever current page hasn't been put in FB Jail :) For all merch related questions: https://badmagicmerch.com/pages/contact Please rate and subscribe on iTunes and elsewhere and follow the suck on social media!! @timesuckpodcast on IG and http://www.facebook.com/timesuckpodcast Wanna become a Space Lizard? We're over 6000 strong! Click here: https://www.patreon.com/timesuckpodcast Sign up through Patreon and for $5 a month you get to listen to the Secret Suck, which will drop Thursdays at Noon, PST. You'll also get 20% off of all regular Timesuck merch PLUS access to exclusive Space Lizard merch. You get to vote on two Monday topics each month via the app. And you get the download link for my new comedy album, Feel the Heat. Check the Patreon posts to find out how to download the new album and take advantage of other benefits.

Over the course of five years from January 23rd, 1990 to March 16th, 1995, a sadistic monster disguised as a human being named Keith Hunter Jesperson, murdered eight women. And at one time took credit for up to 160 others, as he traveled to mostly western United States working as a long haul truck driver. He dumped the bodies of his victims in multiple states to confuse law enforcement and Jesperson was years into his murders before anyone even realized a pseudo killer was responsible for the rapes and strangulations of multiple women. And it would have taken even longer for anyone to figure out what the hell was going on

if Jess Prson, who just couldn't tolerate someone else getting credit for one of his heinous crimes, had in scrawled confessions on bathroom stall walls and sent in poorly written cocky letters detailing his crimes to the media. Jess person signed his anonymous admissions with smiley faces, which is how he got the nickname the happy face killer. There was nothing actually happy about this large, roughly ed camper-sized homicidal maniac. Finally knowing authorities would soon be charging him with murders and hoping to avoid the death penalty, Jess person confessed and his sick rampage was over.

Today's tale is one of a man who, due to an unfortunate combination of possessing violent and sadistic tendencies, perhaps since birth, and then being raised in a violent home where murderous warning signs were not only ignored, but actually encouraged a troubled cruel and violent boy grew up to become a troubled, cruel and murderous man in another true crime serial killer edition of Time Suck. This is Michael McDonald and you're listening to Time Suck. You're listening to Time Suck. Happy Monday, meat sex. Ha ha ha! Hail, Nimrod Lucifina, praisebo, jangles.

Glory be to triple M. I'm Dan Cummins, the suck sniper, the suck tater, the master sucker, and you are listening to Time Suck. Today's Time Suck is brought to you by Lisa. Love Lisa. Lisa is a badass company with a big, big heart on a mission to give your body the rest it needs with two awesome mattresses plus accessories and bases for a better place to sleep. They also believe in providing a better night sleep for everybody and to date they donated

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Thanks, me, sax, for selling out those stand-up shows, the live podcasts, being them amazing enthusiastic audiences. We made the shows so much fun. Heading to Dr. Grins, Grand Rapids, Michigan this weekend, November 21st to the 23rd, another live time suck on the 23rd. Some of those shows already sold out. So thank you in advance. Heading to the Tacoma Comedy Club, Tacoma watched in December 5th through the seventh last live time suck of the year on the seventh. That'll be the last Ant Hill kids suck. And then the last standup shows of the year are going to be the Spokane comedy club December 26th through the 28th. Reminder that we're given $3,500 of Patreon money

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New clear. Energy and 400% two headed golden retriever fur and 13, 300% three eyed four tailed six-winged fly and nuke fish scales for radioactive superhero like abilities. It comes in two awesome color combinations. What are those abilities by the way? Well, you have to wear the shirt to find out. Maybe you can cast webs, like Spider-Man. Maybe you'll know pretty much everything and be

indestructible and all powerful like Dr. Manhattan, which would be way better. You'll for sure feel the power of nuke Nimrod. So hail Nimrod and his new clear wisdom. Thank you for sure feel the power of new Nimrod, so hail Nimrod and his. New clear wisdom. Thank you for ratings and reviews all over the web. Thanks for subscribing to Bad Magic Productions on YouTube. We've almost reached 10,000 reviews on iTunes and that really helps us get new listeners

and subscribers. So hail Nimrod, praise both jangles and even better, a lot of the five star reviews are very funny. I tried not to look too often, but I did look the other day because we're getting close to 10,000. And I saw that user etched Threl wrote a review that really cracked me up. Subject line of just killed him in the following review. You know, there's a lot of people leaving one star reviews calling Dan Dumb.

Do we need them? Like, what are they really contributing? These people are causing the deforestation problems with all the sticks they're shoving up their butts. I say we just killed them. Thank you so much. I really cracked me up. You beautiful meat sack and I'm guessing Etro was referring to one star reviews left by users like Nolsteed who once started TimeSuck with a subject line of new clear. And then writes the latest episode about the Manhattan Project was so annoying who won start at time suck with a subject line of nuclear. And then writes the latest episode about the Manhattan Project was so annoying that I could only make it 17 minutes in.

Instead of saying the word nuclear, like a function member of society, the income was replaced all the instances of the word with the computer generated voice, all lost even Hawkins, saying it instead. I keep trying to like to show, but energy and subjects are ruined by the host imageurity and idiocy. Wow, now I said, you sound like so much fun.

Man, I bet you're blessed to hang out with. I bet everyone's like, man, I can't wait to tell Nelson shows up. He's a fucking champion. He's a champion of fun. Here's why I really kind of thought about what I wanted to say to you regarding that review and here's what it is. Don't keep trying to like this podcast. Find a humorless, fact-based show that plays a straight-out episode. There are tons out there. Make that mature choice. Now's that. Oh, just for good measure. Nuclear, nuclear, nuclear, nuclear, nuclear, nuclear, nuclear, nuclear, nuclear, nuclear, nuclear, nuclear, nuclear, nuclear, nuclear, nuclear, nuclear, nuclear, nuclear, nuclear, nuclear, nuclear. Hail Nimrod! Still trying to like the show, Nostod.

So I hope you're at least laughing a little bit. You fucking stick in the mud. And now let's get refocused on some true crime. Keith Hunter, Jess Person, the happy face killer. Research and Keith's childhood this week, that was too much fun for me, by the way. Research and Keith's childhood this week, reading about terrible things he did to animals when he was growing up in a home with four other kids who did not do terrible things to animals.

I wondered, can you truly just be born bad? I mean, most of the serial killers we've researched share on time, so I could've come from terrible homes. Think about the cartoonishly violent childhood of Henry Lucas, one of the confession killers. Several were beaten so badly or molester, otherwise horribly mistreated that I'm amazed other kids raised in the same homes as them didn't also grow up to become serial killers. Psychologist Terrence Leary, director of the serial killer database research project, the largest non-governmental serial murderer database

in the world, believes that childhood environment, AKA nurture, not nature, plays the largest role in creating killers. He's looked at the lives of more than 5,000 killers going back to the 1950s and he says, what we're finding is a great, great preponderance of abuse amongst serial killers. In every case I've looked at,

there's some kind of horrendous home situation. However, despite Dr. Larry's assessment, not every killer comes from a horrendous home situation. Richard Coddingham, a serial killer who targeted sex workers in the Times Square area of New York City between 1967 and 1980, is an example of a killer who came from a happy home. The so-called butcher of time square officially killed six people but claims to have killed

more than 80 before being apprehended. And there is nothing in Coddingham's childhood that points to homicidal rage. Historian Peter Vronsky is currently writing a biography on Coddingham and has spent more than 50 hours interviewing him and says that Cod cutting him's childhood was absolutely idyllic his father was a vice president and metropolitan life insurance in new york city he has three younger sisters who used to absolutely adore him all well-adjusted no reports of family dysfunction his mom was a homemaker housewife you into catholic parochial schools

not molested he claims to have uh... never been uh... molested abused physically sexually or otherwise. He worked on computers for Blue Cross, Blue Shield for years, was well liked by his co-workers. He got married and had three kids. Reported to be a great dad and a great husband also became known as the torso killer. Was he just born bad? Maybe not. Coddingham was hit by a car as a four-year-old, suffered brain damage to his frontal lobe, an area of the brain associated with desire to commit acts of aggression. So perhaps brain damage, largely responsible for putting him on a path towards some kind

of murder. But what about another serial killer who came from a good home, Randy Kraft? Randy's brain has been studied and there are in scientists have found no abnormalities, no frontal lobe damage. And he was to investigators in court appointed psychologist knowledge never abused in any way ever. And yet the scorecard killer very likely killed 64 people in a 12 year period in California. Born in 1946, he grew up in Orange County in the 50s and 60s where he would bowl with

his father, eats strawberries and whipped cream with his mother, with a high IQ of 129 craft took accelerated classes in high school, attended Claremont, McKenna College, a top tier liberal arts school. He has three sisters who all turned out fine. And for roughly a dozen years, craft tortured, burned, raped, and strangled young men, brutally torturing and killing young men, many of them teenage boys. He loved it. It was how he got off. He's a real piece of shit who's in San Quentin now. And there is no moment in his youth that you can point point to and say, aha, so that's what fucked him up. A

16 year old neighbor raped him repeatedly and all his future rapes and kills were based on some kind of revenge fantasy. Nope. No one has been able to figure out why the hell he did it. Was he born bad? Maybe. It's scary thought that you can raise someone the right way and still they can choose possibly be genetically predisposition towards choosing becoming a sadistic killer. Andre Cicatillo, the butcher of Rostov, he had a great childhood. In Ukraine before I grew up and moved to Mother Russia, I live in happy-to-parent home, sitting in beautiful, bustling Ukrainian city.

Father was loving doctor who coached me in Roseline. Mother was homemaker, who make apple pie, and hug me every day, and tell me she loved Jacob Tilo. Oh, Jacob, I grew up in Warthorn, come into the shittle. I watched many people die, watch many people starve and famine, Nazis bomb my sad shitty village, rape mother in front of me. I went bed for many years because of brain lesion, mother sleep in same bed, beat me, savage,

every time bed is wet. I also curse with soft shamecock, it only hard when hurting and stabbing. Oh well, what's this big deal? So I know Beaver Cleaver, childhood kid thing. Okay, so maybe Cheek and Teal is not the best example, but seriously, it does seem as if you can just kind of, you know, be born in a sense bad, born with darker instincts than most of the rest of us, born with the moral compass that does not have its true

north set to any kind of kindness, born with a compass that points to mostly cruelty. So was Keith Hunter, Jasperson, born with this kind of damage compass? Yeah, to an extent, I think he was. And then that compass was put in a home that encouraged some of his crueler instincts instead of discouraging them. Ultimately though, I still believe

Keith still chose to do what he did. I believe all of the serial killers I've ever researched chose to do what they did. Because believe all of the serial killers I've ever researched chose to do what they did because Keith went for long stretches without killing. To me, that proves he was capable of resisting his dark urges. We all have an urge to do something inappropriate sometimes, but most of us don't do it. I know that's harder for others because they're the part of their brain that says, no, you shouldn't do that.

You know, doesn't work as well. But really, I mean, if it didn't work at all, then these serial killers wouldn't they just be killing like every single day? Wouldn't they just go out in like a crazy bloody rampage where they try to kill like 40 people in a single day because they're just following that impulse over and they just can't help themselves? I think they can. I think it's harder for them, but I think they can.

You know, despite maybe being born with a terrible moral compass, despite not being raised in the best of homes, at the end of the day, Keith, Jesperson, in my opinion, has no one to blame but himself for what he did. He chose to give into his darkest urges. A lot of people died and died, horribly because of his terrible choices. Will you agree at the end that he chose to, you know, the life he lived or that it was chosen for him? Well, let's take a look at how Keith became a serial killer and find out in today's Time Suck Timeline. On April 6, 1955, Keith Hunter Jesperson was born in Chilowac, British Columbia, Canada

to Leslie and Gladys Jesperson. He was the couple's third child, his older sister Suzan had been born in 1952, and his older brother Bruce was born in 1953. I had never heard of Chilowac until this suck, even though it's only about a seven hour drive from Corde de Laine, Idaho, home of the suck dungeon. Just over an hour's drive east of Vancouver, Vancouver, Canada, less than 15 miles from the US-Canadian border between British Columbia and Washington State. It's a metro area.

It has about a hundred thousand people, about a CDA sized. And for Canada, it's got a pretty warm climate, actually average temperature-wise. It's the warmest city in all of Canada. Chilawhack is like the Phoenix or Miami of Canada. Minus tons of scantily cloud coids or beach goers or weather that is actually really good. It has the best weather in all of Canada, which means it has average or maybe slightly above average weather for almost any other nation on earth. Sorry, Canadians, there's a lot.

I love about your country. Weather is not one of those things. Your latitude coordinates make, you know, make it so the climate, not really that capable of approaching ideal. Too dark in the winter, too cold, gusting on my heck, but chill a whack, not bad weather wise. Hit over a hundred degrees Fahrenheit in August before, maybe just one time ever, but it did hit it. It even hit 91 time in April. And the coldest is ever gotten was 16 degrees below zero, one time in January. You know, all Fahrenheit there as well. The average low doesn't dip below freezing at any point in the year, average high never gets really above 80. According to a variety of Canadian city quality of life rankings with a much slower pace of life than Vancouver

and a strong local economy. Chillerweck is a, quote, nice place to raise your family, which always reads this boring to me, but maybe it's a good boy. And it's where Keith, Jesperson's family began raising him. Keith was again the middle child. I'm sorry, I don't think I said it before. He was the middle child of two brothers, Bruce and Brad and two sisters, Sharon and Jill. According to Keith, he was tortured by all of them in one way or another. And according to all of them, Keith was the problem and they did not torture him.

They say he was aligned to this little asshole born, born bad. Now let's meet Keith's dad, Leslie. Apologies to male Leslie suckers, but that name never sounds right to me on a dude. Because I'd only met or heard of Lady Leslie's until the past few months. No, no, no one I knew, you know, I never came across a dude named Leslie. My brain just doesn't, you know, want to recognize it as a guy. It's like, it's like, it's like if I heard about a dude named Maria or Michelle. And we just talked about another dude Leslie two weeks ago, the Manhattan suck general Leslie Groves. Any who, any who, thanks to the Yakima

Washington herald for the nice obituary to pull some details from so rare to find these details and these true crime sucks Leslie died in Yakima at the age of 87 on May 18th 2015 and the 1930s Leslie's blacksmith father Keith grandfather a man named Rebecca Migrated eastward from the family homestead and rainy bridge Columbia to the parts prairies of Saskatchewan and kidding about Rebecca His name is art After a few years, Art and his wife and Keith Grammar hank, I mean Florence, were beaten back to British Columbia by the Dust Bowl famine known in Canada as the, as the dirty thirties. Leslie Jess present

spoke about his Canadian childhood called it a mix of Dickens and Dante saying, you never saw anybody work as hard as my dad and now six kids. We forged welded, shot horses, made log in equipment, anything that could be created with a forge or bellows and muscle. From kindergarten on, we worked alongside dad when we were in school, but the time I left home, I could squeeze 240 pounds just like my dad. That was as high as our scale would read. If we got out of line, he hit us with a razor strap. There was a worn spot where it hit. Dad's strap was one hell of an educator. Leslie would take over his dad's blacksmith business and then during World War II, he joined the Canadian merchant navy sailing in the illusions up there in Alaska, supplying the US Air Force depots or depots.

1948, Leslie married Keith's mother, Gladys Lorraine Bellamy, and Leslie started a business called Cruising Coffee Limited, selling coffee from trucks to businesses. He also started the Chiloak Boxing Club and the Chiloak Search and Rescue Squad, where he served as a search master for nine years. An avid outdoorsman, he climbed every mountain peak in Southern British Columbia, including the rugged areas of airplane crash sites as part of search and rescue. He was the youngest alderman elected to the Chiloak City Council, serving two and a half terms, resigning when he moved out of the country. He sounds resume wise, like good dude, maybe not so good though. Keith would later blame his father

for his extreme tendencies, saying his dad was an angry, violent, abusive alcoholic, Leslie always denied abusing anyone. However, Leslie also didn't consider beating the shit out of his kid with a belt to be abuse. I was just giving them a proper strapping. Now, a little more about Keith's mama. Gladys Bellamy-Jasperson grew up in a pure, tentacle home in which the slightest mention of sex and sexuality was taboo. Lucifina's not pleased.

Sounds fun. Sounds like a great place to spend your identity forming years. At least Lucifina tells me that Gladys should have ran away. Gladys' parents were so sexually conservative that she was even banished from the barn when the bulls bred and when the cows, with their cows, and when any of the animals were giving birth. Right? You know, what if she saw an animal penis

of a vagina? Oh my heck! She might grow up to suck every dick and play with every pussy in a hundred mile radius. Gosh dang! Good thing they kept her sweet little virgin away from all those devil dogs and Satan slits doing all that beast fucking. Known in the family, including her husband Leslie,

would ever see Gladys naked, like ever. Her vagina was like a groundhog that never sees its shadow because it only comes out in the dark. Winter was always almost over around Gladys's Puxitani pussy. Solid dad joke right there, by the way. Then in 1995 after 37 years of marriage, Gladys passed away of cancer and all I can think about is her vagina finally been able to rest in peace for no one's trying to look at it. I'm a terrible person.

The mortician probably had to close his eyes when he changed her out of the clothes she's wearing, you know, when she passed away. Anyway, Leslie would save his wife years later. Her parents taught her to be ashamed of her body. I never saw one Bellamy touch another. And Keith would later say, I never hugged my mother and father. And they didn't hug me or my brothers and sisters. I never thought about this one way or the other.

It's just the way we were. Ha! That doesn't sound good. A lady who thought sex was disgusting and a naked human body was shameful. A woman who did not dull out any kind of physical affection. What, that woman would raise a sexually motivated serial killer? Ha, who would have thought it? On the nurture side of things when it comes to serial killers, it does seem like an awful

lot of them come from sexually repressive homes. I've noticed Keith and his four siblings remember their mother as being a workhorse and an immaculate housekeeper who held the family together. Dad's whole thing was making money. His daughter Jill recalled mom did everything else. Gladys Bellamy-Jessperson was also a bit of a loner, preferring to spend time alone rather than spend it with others, even when the others were her own family. When Les would take Keith and his siblings, excuse me,

and his four siblings, campaign each summer, Gladys was happy to stay home. Years later in Keith's memory, he would remember her always as being posed primly on the couch, glasses reflecting the TV screen. Her knitting needles giving off little flashes of light. He thought he knew why his mother stayed home.

She was dead slave. She was relieved when he was gone. It gave her a little breathing room. So it sounds like a tense household you grew up in. Glad us took care of all the household duties, even designing and making her children's clothes, including pants and suits. So glad my mom did not make my clothes growing up. I love my mom, but she would have made the shittiest clothes ever. My mom is a long ways from perfectionist. Much more of a, that's good.

That's fine. Ah, that'll do. It's close enough. Kind of tight mom. I'd have been wearing some poorly crafted clothes to school. Pant leg much longer at one side than the other different colored socks. Long sleeve shirt that fits like a crop top. Underwear made out of fucking burlap.

Year after Keith is born, his younger brother Brad is born in 1956. I believe his youngest sister Jill was born based on statements Keith later made and either 1957 or 1958. Locking in an exact date of birth for her is proven to be very difficult. I do know she's currently married to her second husband. I know her oldest daughter died unexpectedly last year at the age of 36. I do not know how old Jill is. Luckily her age is not important when it comes to today's tale.

So, so get out here, Jill, go on, get, ha ha ha ha. Don't need you, don't need your age. 1961, young Keith hurt someone. Actually, Keith's very first memory is of hurting someone in 1961. Yeah, when he was six, he rolled a rock down a slide at the park and hit his little brother Brad on the head, split his head open, drawn blood, making him cry. Not only that unusual for a kid to do something like that, but it is interesting that that's the very first thing he remembers.

Keith also remembers other kids making fun of him and giving him shitty nicknames. His brother is apparently where the worst and because he was so big for his age, they gave him the nickname Igor and it stuck and it bothered him greatly. Here we go with the nicknames again. Were a lot of these serial killers picked on a little more than the rest of us growing up or were they just too fucking sensitive about some teasing? I lean towards the latter. I feel like if more people could figure out how to be less sensitive, just kind of in general,

but especially be like teasing and criticism, maybe work harder on thickening that skin, there'd be a lot less serial killers and just mass shooters and other sad salaries who are ticking time bombs or just a real bummer to be around. Who didn't get some shitty nicknames here and there growing up or get teased? In junior high, there's some kids that love to call me cumstain or cum bubble. Very clever variance of the last name of Cummins. Jason Sebastco, Mike Damon, Jason some other fucking last name. Itmins Jason sabasco Mike Damon Jason some other fucking last name. It's killing me. I can't remember

You know, they love to toss those come-based nicknames around I can still see these kids faces like they're junior high faces Still remember their voices. I Did my best not to let on that's a name calling got to me I did my best to ignore those idiots. That's why mom and grandparents told me to do and that's what I did Sometimes I throw back a little sarcastic laugh or just, ah, ah, genius! Oh, man, you guys are so clever. I haven't heard that one before. That's awesome.

Instead of giving them the reaction they wanted, I would have given them a fuck you or a beating but I was very tiny and now good at fighting and scared and they would have destroyed me. So I handled it another way. And I've told my kids to handle it the same way. Don't let idiots who tease you know that their words bother you or they will just harass you more. And I've tied my kids to handle it the same way, you know, don't let idiots who tease you know that their words bother you or they will just harass you more. And who

fucking cares? What, you know, those kind of kids say, because their opinions don't matter because they're silly stupid, the last holes. Kidnax drawing out is growing up to not handle things well. You said anything about him, he started yelling at you, he started bawling his eyes out, big dramatic reaction, each and every time. So of course, everyone started to tease him all of the time. Couple words and you got to fucking sit back and watch the show. He's getting up, getting homeschooled because he couldn't handle it.

But if he would have just reacted with whatever, you guys are dumb, walked away, rolled his eyes, for sure would have been left alone. You can't control what people say about. You can't control how you react. And based on what I've read about Keith, did not handle the teasing well. He handled it so badly, he started feeling like he was teased, even when he wasn't being

teased. He started identifying as a victim very early on, hasn't let go of that identification since. Somehow always everybody else has followed. He's always, you know, all poor Keith. Fucking hate that personality. Oh, what was me? Go fuck yourself.

Right? Stop fucking crying. pull yourself up, and get your shit together. Here's some more unsolicited advice regarding that. Don't let whatever life throws you lead to to identify primarily as a victim, right? Don't be the person who consistently rationalizes their own failures as being someone else's fault.

Of course I didn't get that job. Nothing ever works out for me. Person hiring just didn't like me. I don't, I don't do anything wrong. My car got repossessed because my credit card company fucked me over. You know, I didn't get into financial trouble because I spent too much money.

No, they charged me too much interest. Even when there's truth to those thoughts, don't indulge them. Assume you could have done something to fix things, you know, yourself, you know, because you'll never read a biography, or autobiography of a highly successful person who accomplish great things because they blamed everyone else for their problems.

It's a loser's mentality that has helped no one ever and Keith, Jess, percent had it in fucking spades. Why did he have it? Maybe he wasn't born with the right cognitive potential. You can make that argument, but I don't like it too deterministic for me. I'm too much of a free will-based meat sack to agree with that. You can make the argument that maybe no one taught him how to deal with a bit of bullying in a healthy way.

Fine. But plenty of other people aren't bullied, or are bullied, excuse me, and don't know how to handle it. And they don't turn out to be serial killers. So I don't really like that either. I like the argument that he chose to react to what life threw at him consistently,

very poorly and selfishly. Like a lot of future murderers, young kids started to kill and torture animals on a regular basis. No one made him do that. People teasing him didn't make him do that. He chose that. No one put a gun to his head and made him fuck up a cat.

However, his dad did encourage that, which is super fucked up. And maybe if his dad hadn't encouraged his son to be a sadistic pet killer, if his dad hadn't been one himself, maybe he wouldn't have grown up to become a serial killer. But you know what? He still chose to do it. Leslie, not a good dude when it came to teaching a little key to some empathy. He started hunting and killing neighborhood pets at a very young age. He kept hurting and killing pets right up to when he went to prison.

Keith is a young boy, enjoyed bashing in the heads of gofers with shovels, nailing stray dogs and cats to a board so we could throw knives at them, holy fucking red flag. If I found out that one of my kids had nailed a cat or a dog to a board and then thrown knives at it, oh my god, they are going to a lot of therapy every week for a long time. And I'm getting a new lock for my bedroom door so I can sleep good at night. One of young keys for everything to do when I came to pet torture was crimp a couple of cats tails together with some wire, hang them over a rope and watch them plough each other to death.

And if you do that or don't think that it's a big deal, stop listing right now, call therapist because you are fucked up. Get help you psychopath. According to Keith, his dad once witnessed him throw a cat against the pavement and then strangled it to death. And instead of being furious and sad and extremely concerned about his son's mental health, a Jess person wrote that his dead was proud of how he dealt with it. He bragged others about how Keith had gotten rid of the stray cats and dogs that were

a problem in their trailer park where they lived. And now I'm reminded the backwoods childhood horrors we talked about in the confession killer suck. When it felt like I was hearing some kind of dark version of Jeff Foxworthy redneck jokes. Instead of you might be a redneck, Jeff Foxworthy material, you might be a killer, Bizarre World Foxworthy, Steph Cox, Kirby jokes. If you're daddy, catch us you strangling a cat to death in the trailer park driveway and gives you a high five instead of a whoopin. You might be a killer.

A year later, Papa Leslie cat killer, Jess Person would remember the incident differently, saying Keith got rid of some stray cats, and I didn't stop him. In fact, I almost persuaded him to do it. But I never taught him to kill, never. My way was to drown him in a gunny sack. Once I saw him take a kid and smash it down,

killed instantly, it made me shudder. What the fuck These guys, you know the writing style you'll see later Keith would mirror his father's nonsensical It's like there's this writing style and just just the lack of self-awareness these people have that that's an actual quote He actually said I never taught him to kill and then also said in just the previous sentence that he did persuade him to do it, which I read as I told him to do it. And then he says that his way was to drown him in a gunny sack, which is killing them. So fuck Leslie Jesperson didn't turn his son into a serial killer, but he was a fucking maniac who loved drowning cats apparently.

And then doesn't understand how that is killed. I don't understand these people. Keys Little Sister Jill made frequent complaints about Keith's cruelty. She was ignored because her dad was also cruel. Hard to get your dad to tell your brother to stop killing cats when your dad is also killing cats. She'd recall, dad and Keith both hated cats.

Oh geez, right. Keith bragged about ringing their necks and throwing them in the garbage. I was taken aback by this. You don't do that to animals. We never dreamed he would do it to people. And then later, Keith would write, all this did is spawn in me.

They urged to kill again. I began to think of what it would be like to kill a human being. Uh, fun, right? All the more reason not to condone your kids killing pets. I mean, we can all agree. That's a terrible parent move, right? We can agree that maybe you shouldn't like get off

on fucking kill neighborhood' neighborhood cats. Gotta hope, I hope so. All the sad pet talk, pet talk, pet talk. It's not like a weird, like, this kind of like a weird, horrible version of a Ted talk. Or instead of like important talks about, you know, things that could kind of help society. It's just fucking maniacs talking about killing cats. But all the sad talk does remind me that we do need to take a quick little sponsored break. Today's time suck is brought to you by Ed Camper's pet sickles.

Do you like dead pets? Do you like the idea of dead pets, the heads turning into fucked up popsicles? If you just answered yes to both of these questions, you are a monster. And you are going to love Ed Camper's pet sickles. In honor of the happy face killer, Camper is offering you 50% off his Simeez, Tammy, Persian and Herelus flavors of pet sickles., Camper has offered you 50% off his Syme's Tammy Persian and hairless flavors of pet cycles. Let Camper himself tell you more. Hey, me, Jackson.

Mother's first off, I don't see what all the fuss about Leslie is. He sounds like the best dad ever. Keith was a lucky boy. Also, if you don't call 1-800-Kat, hit on a stick, you will face the wrath of my japples. Call now, mother. Yikes. Jesus now, mother. Yikes. Jesus Louise, what the flip?

Scary. And of course, that was not one of our sponsors. Gustang, today's time suck is actually sponsored by For Hims. I'm extra glad for him to sponsoring today's show because I was reminded to order some more good night wrinkle cream, which has become part of my go to sleep routine. And I like to buy it in gummies so much, ordered more of those and ordered some immunity gummies,

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Remember that's for hymns.com slash time sucky.de link in today's episode description. Now back to Keith J.S. Persons disturbing and dysfunctional childhood. Keith's father reportedly drank heavily, dominated his family through violence. Leslie would later say, I didn't hurt any of those kids. Sure, when they got real, unruly, I'd take a strap to them and throw them in a big old gunny sack and toss the sack into the river for no more than a few minutes to get their attention. But no, I never heard them. And of course, Leslie never said that.

But he did deny ever abusing them. We'll also admitting to whipping them with a leather strap. But in the interview, he said, when I was a kid, I got strapped harder than any of them. And I didn't grow to be a serial killer. A lot of kids could use a little beaten nowadays. I was a kid, I got strapped harder than any of them. And I didn't grow up to be a serial killer. A lot of kids could use a little beaten nowadays. I was strict, but a good father. I raised my kids like I was raised. And you know what?

I'm a little torn on this statement because I do think there are some kids who could use some core replenishment. But you gotta know how to not take it too far. Like I know a lot of people disagree with me on this, but a couple of swaths on the bottom designed to scare more than injured will for sure get some kids attention, get them to change their behavior for the better. Classic BF Skinner Behaviorism. Just like shocking a lab rat will get that rat to engage in behavior that results in it,

you know, being shocked less frequently, negative reinforcement, many a kid has cooled their jets because of a well time spanking. My dad caught me, pushing a smaller kid into a mud puddle. I was about five years old, gave me a good spanking for being a bully, and that lesson has stuck with me to this day. Never did that again. That spanking for sure helped me become a better person. But you can't do it too much.

If I would've got spank and slept and right, then the only lesson I would've learned was that my dad was a spank happy asshole. Shobies, swatzlers fat bottles. That's how they do it in Hollywood. But seriously, it's true, I think. Also, if you're gonna dole out negative reinforcement, you know, don't just shock the rat when it makes a mistake.

Also reward it when it behaves correctly. Mixing a lot of hugs and great jobs with the occasional spanking, right? Dole out some positive reinforcement. I don't think Leslie did that. Leslie, you know, he wasn't a hugger. He didn't hug the kids. When talking about his serial killer son, Leslie,

would say we always knew he was different, but we never thought he would kill other than I guess the shitload of cats. Uh, looking back on keyslife, knowing all he's done makes me wonder if there was anything that prompted his bizarre behavior. He says it's all my fault. He says, Dad, you and your belt made me a killer. That's bull and he knows it. No kid ever had a better upbringing.

Easy, Leslie. Easy. Lots of kids had a better upbringing. Easy, Leslie. Easy. Lots of kids had a better upbringing. You know, hug and cat drown in leather strap happy fucking weirdo. According to several different sources, Keith would often get severely punished by his father, often get a big ass whooping right in front of other kids. Lots of other kids, yeah, had better upbringing.

1964, the age of nine, Keith was involved in an incident involving a beating at the hands of his father that he claimed would trouble him for many years later. He would say, I got him to a fight with the boy in my age. His mother yelled at me to get off her property and quit picking on her kid. She was yelling, fuck this and fuck that. I yelled back that she was a bitch. I was riding my bike home when the boy's 16-year-old brother jumped out of his car, slugged

me and kicked me twice with his pointy toe cowboy boots. Then he drove over my bike and wrecked it. My father didn't like it and dragged that of a city council meeting by Constable and told that his son Keith had called a bitch a bitch and a few other names and the bitch was filing a slander suit. Dad was embarrassed and angry. He'd been drinking since noon. He drove straight home before my mother to tell him the whole story

His fist struck me down and he dragged me into his bedroom He worked me over with his belt that I couldn't scream anymore kept yelling that I made a fool of him in front of Madame chairperson Mom finally pulled him off and said Leslie Keith was not a fault She showed in the bruise where Brian's brother slugged me and that made him call Brian's mother and cuss her out worse than he's she'd cussed me He slammed the phone down turned to me said, let that be a lesson to you. Mom said, don't you want to apologize to Keith? And dad said, he probably had it coming anyway. I didn't know what to think. All the classic he probably had it coming anyway tossed around by shitty parents the world over. What was

that again, Leslie? No kid ever had it a better upbringing. Uh-huh, right. Starting later 1964, maybe even early 1965, when Keith was nine, he started frequently playing with or according to Keith was forced to play with a mischievous boy named Martin, who Keith started to constantly blame for any trouble Keith would get into. This is the real beginning of that narrative that nothing is ever Keith's fault.

Good old victim identification, right? Keith was just a well-balanced cat, crushing goody-touchy. It was Martin who was a bad seat. The evil influence, and when Martin would get Keith in trouble, Leslie would work Keith over with the belt. Damn you, Martin! Then in 1966, when Keith was 11, he decided to rectify this recurring ongoing Martin situation by beating the fuck out of Martin. Beat the kid unconscious. He'd later say, I want to kill him if I hadn't been stopped, not a doubt in my mind. I wasn't surprised to get the belt. That was one time when I was guilty. So first attempted murder by the age of 11. If you fail, the beating the kid from the trailer next door on conscious was totally justified because he sometimes got

you in trouble. You might be a killer. A later Keith Wright, this was a watershed moment for his early development. Saying that's when I began to think of myself as two people, one watching the other. When I was kicking Martin's ass, a gentleman part of me stood by and watched. Maybe I'm still that way. When I'm taking care of a serious problem, I feel like I'm on the outside looking in.

I can honestly say that the person that beat Martin was not the real me. I would never heard another kid no matter what he did. It wasn't my nature, but that day, I just kind of stepped aside and let the bad side take over. It was the same with the women I killed. My murders happened in slow motion, and later I would fantasize about what I should have done.

I would be thinking if only I could do it all over I would do it different, but the girls ended up just as dead. Ah, how convenient. I didn't do anything bad. I'm the good guy. I'm really, I'm the victim of the super naughty Keith. Sometimes it takes over my body and makes me do horrible things I don't even want to do. Man, you're lucky you're not me. Must be nice not to have a super naughty demon personality part of you take over your body sometimes when you can't even help it. And there's absolutely nothing you could even do about it.

These fuckers, it's so rarely take responsibility for their shit. I watch numerous interviews of Keith on YouTube and he is especially hateable. Also in 1966, when Keith was 11, a few sources say, Keith's father started to charge him rent for room and board to teach him the value of money. Keith would come to find out that the other Jess person can't charge rent, including this detail because again, it's listed numerous sources. It does come from Keith and Keith, like Henry Lucas noticed, tool, and he did love to lie.

I don't know if I buy it. That would be pretty messed up though. If that was true, to find out that you were the only one of five kids, charge room and board growing up. The very least, this shows, Keith saw himself as the odd one out in the family. He saw himself as the black sheep,

especially with his father. Keith had a disturbing encounter with a pedophile early in his childhood. Those sick fucks seemed to have to just show up and every one of these stories. He said that when he's around the age of 11, he and some school mates were playing at a neighbor's dairy farm,

and that's when some farmhand offered to advance their sexual education. Keith said, he stripped and made us do the same. He said that sex was touching our peepies together, and he started to play with his pecker until it got larger and erect. Then he asked us to touch him. He was making a move on a boy when I grabbed my clothes and ran.

He yelled at me not to tell anyone. I thought, don't worry, I won't. Later I asked the boy how he liked it. He said that it hurt and he told his father what happened and his father told him to keep quiet. The dairy man did it to him doggy style and after it was over, he forced him to lick his pecker. I was disgusted and didn't want to hear about it.

Why? Why is there so many of these sick fucks out there? Right? Just don't fuck kids. Why is so many kid fucking tales come up in these stories? Do we need to put billboards, signage all around the country, all around the world? Hey you, don't text and drive. And also, don't fuck kids.

Your hostess will see you soon, please, while you wait, don't fuck any kids. Please turn off your phones and don't talk during the movie. Enjoy your film and forget to say, don't fuck kids. Around this time, Keith also used a BB gun to shoot and quote, overweight neighbor, as she bent over to pick some raspberries. And he says, I got caught and she took me straight to dad. She was limping and crying, putting it on.

Dad tried to keep a straight face. He told her he couldn't punish me till he got a good look at the evidence. After he finished laughing at his own joke, he gave me a light spanking in front of her. This time he used his hands instead of the belt. If your father wants to ask the neighbor lady to show him where you shot her in the ass with the pellet gun and then laughed in her face in front of you. You might be a killer. Keith almost killed another child around this time. There would be a second attempted murder in Keith's childhood. Another boy who'd been bullying him for a while held Keith's head under water while he was swimming at Coltis Lake, his family's on vacation

in the Lamont National Forest, not too far from Bend, Oregon. And Keith said, he held my head below the surface. Let me come up from air, then push me down again. After five or ten minutes of this, I started to see black. I believe my life was spared by the counselor that jumped in the pool and pulled him off. Well, that kid fucked with the wrong Canadian. Keith immediately plot a revenge. He said that later, at the public swimming pool, I held him under to the lifeguard pulled

me off. I had every intention of drowning him. I guess you could say it was a second murder attempt of my childhood. The other was that little bastard, Martin. It was like I had only one way to fight all out. I was still thinking about Martin. I wonder what that dude is today. I wonder if Martin knows how badly the happy face killer wanted to end his life.

In 1967, the Jesspersons moved to Yakima, Washington. Leslie got some type of job that revolved around working on agricultural equipment, specifically working with equipment using Apple and Hop harvesting. Yakima Valley produces over 75% of all the hops used in the United States. So if you love beer, you may not know it, but you also love Yakima. A lot of apples grown around this city in the Yakima Valley. It builds itself as the Palm Springs of Washington. Yakima located in South Central Washington state, about 250,000 people in the metro area. Long list of notable people coming out of Yakima. Keith Jesperson, not among them.

Colleen Atwood, one of my wife, Lindsay's, Queen of the Sucks, a favorite costume designer for film and TV, hails from Yakima. This is a woman who's been nominated for a dozen Academy Awards, one-four for films like Chicago and the Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them. Legendary comedian Sam Kinnison born in Yakima, actor Kyle McLaughlin from Twin Peaks, Sex and the City, Desperate Housewives, Port Landia, and so much more born and raised in Yakima. Seems like a nice place to grow up, a little bit warmer than old Chilowak.

It was between 1968 and 1969 during Keith's seventh grade year that Keith's new friend, Tom Hagger, introduced Keith to the joys of shoplifting. Keith now starts to get used to breaking the law. You know, it gets off on getting away with breaking the law. It's better at rationalizing illegal behavior. He's not doing anything wrong. If stores didn't want him to steal why did they charge so much? Also in 1969 at the age of 14 Keith shoots a Rambo style arrow with an exploding tip at the home of one of his teachers

If you not only figured out how to make an arrow with an exploding tip, but also actually fire it at one of your teachers homes, you're 14 years old. You might be a killer. Keith would say the incident, I used a 30 out six shell casing, pulled out the lead, filled it with gunpowder, I'd ran the staff of the arrow into the mouth of the shell, wrapped the casing with baling wire.

For a detonator, I used a nail and a piece of copper tubing. When I shot those arrows into a piece of half inch ply where they blew out a hole the size of your fist. I decided that wasn't big enough. So he's not turning out to be the best kit. A classmate would later recall he could be bright when he wanted to be, but then he would do something stupid. He'd be too kind or too mean, too generous or too stingy. You never saw the in between. I always wondered if he was in control of his own brain. If you might have had brain damage, he sure acted like it.

And he's an odd duck. And in addition to his animal cruelty, which continued by the way, did was starting to, you know, just continue to kill whatever critters crossed his path. You know, there's theft, Rambo shit. He also started setting, you know, fires. In an interview, he'd say he always found an odd comfort in watching fires dwindle down to the last ember.

I'd asked to be the one who lit the burn barrel. I found that aerosol cans blew up in fire. I'd act like it was an accident when I threw in a half can of hairspray. A ball of flame would jump up like a miniature atomic bomb. Butane lighters exploded too. Cam fires were so soothing. I'd sit there for hours after everybody else had turned in. Sometimes I'd find bugs and toss them in.

Here I'm crackling and split their skins, or I'd throw an old log full of bugs into flames and watch them scramble. Jesus Christ. This guy just a walk and red flag for later murder. Adding to Keith's mental struggles was also an above average amount of rejection. Keith was apparently rejected by every girl he liked, never went to prom or any of the dances. Smart girls. I bet he creeped them the fuck out. Hey, would you ever want to hang out after school sometime? Maybe we could, you know, go set something on fire or like throw a bunch of bugs in the flames.

Listen to him crackle and split. No? Huh, okay. Hey, what are you doing this weekend? Would you want to go find some cats and slam them into the pavement until their eyes pop out of their heads? No? Wait, I'm crazy? Where are you doing, as weekend? Well, you want to go find some cats and slam them into the pavement until their eyes pop out their heads? No, I'm crazy. Where are you going? Ah, women!

They're so confusing. Later around the age of 14 or 15 during a 10 week trip across country to visit his uncle Ivan, a minister on Fogo Island off in Newfoundland, he did finally find a little romance. He found himself making out with the girl who was four years older than he was, and then he was grossed out Ivan, a minister on Fogo Island off in Newfoundland. Keith did finally find a little romance. He found himself making out with the girl who was four years older than he was.

And then he was grossed out when he saw the blue veins and white skin of her naked breasts. Her pasty white flesh made me want to throw up, he said, uh oh, violent and sexually conflicted. That's not a good combo. This feels like moms and sanely pure tentacle view of sexuality rubbing off on the Keith here. Keith had another incident with another girl in the same trip where she was into him. He didn't make a move and then he got made fun of.

He would later write about it. Apparently no one on the island could keep a secret and pretty soon dad was talking about Keith's girl troubles. He rubbed it in till everybody was laughing and giggling about the naive Keith. How dumb, how backward. I ran down the dock and crawled under some fishing nets. For hours, I pretended to be the creature from the black lagoon, waiting to ambush the next person who came along.

That's how angry I was. Luckily no one showed. What a fucking weirdo. Jesus, remember what I said about teasing earlier, taking some ribbing, right? This guy just couldn't take it all, this thin skin psychopath. Instead of hiding under a dock for hours, pretending to be a monster and waiting to attack somebody, you know, he could have just, I don't know,

laughed it off. And what about his life? Keith also lost his virginity at the age of 14. Later in his writings, he would somehow describe this interaction as rape, which to me seems like him trying to have met or know maybe justify later violence towards women He wrote dad took me on a fishing trip to the Washington coast and on our last evening I was walking on the beach when I came upon a woman sitting next to a campfire We sat and talked and she told me how handsome and tall I was we kissed and after a while she began to take off my clothes

She grabbed my hand and guided my fingers into her open up the blanket blanket and flashed him, tipped. I got hard and she said, that'll do nicely. Did she really say that? She laid me on my back and climbed on top and popped my cherry, raped me over and over until I couldn't get it up anymore. As I walked her to her pick up, she told me she'd be there tomorrow night, but dad said I had to head back to seal of the next day. That weekend put my sexuality into overdrive. Now I knew how exciting it was to be seduced by a loving and willing woman. Now there was nothing else on my mind. Dude, do you not fucking know what rape means? What are you talking about? Loving and willing woman, how great it was, overdrive, yet she raped me. This reminds me of like his dad earlier.

You know, I never told him to kill. I mean, sure. I showed him how to hold cats underwater, till they were dead. But I never told him how to kill cats, you know what I mean? No, we don't know what you mean. You fucking lunatics. More sad childhood stuff would occur in 1971

when Keith was 16. Keith's companion for many years and his quote only friend for quite some time according to him was a laboratory retriever named Duke. Apparently this was the only animal that Keith was nice to. What the dog met a violent end anyway. Keith's dad shot it. Keith would later say, I went nuts.

Duke was a member of the family. To me killing him was murder. Duke was my closest friend for 14 years. And when dad shot Duke, he might as well have shot me. Keith remembered his father saying, he must have gotten some coyote poisons. Keith, he was dragging ass, didn't look good. I had to shoot him or could have taken him to a vet, could have taken him to one of the many veterinarians working in and around Yakima, you animal, Hayden, piece of shit.

If you're daddy, once shot your beloved canon companion to 14 years, because he was quote, dragon-ass, you're my regular. Addie Keith's mental instability seems to have suffered a severe head injury in 1973. As we've learned from previous serial killer sucks, early signs of sadism, plus a rough and rugged home life, plus a traumatic brain injury equals a much better than average chance of someday becoming a serial killer sucks early signs of sadism plus a rough and rugged home life plus a traumatic brain injury equals a much better than average chance of someday becoming a serial killer. He was always getting teased about not being able to reach the top of a 25 foot rope. Yakima kids had had to climb

for wrestling practice over and over again. He couldn't do it. Then finally, he made it damn near the top and then the rope pulled loose from the ceiling and he fell roughly 25 feet to the hardwood floor, hitting hard enough for witnesses to say he literally bounced back up into the air, violently slammed his head into the ground. Of course, when the nurse's office, there's no record of hospitalization for this accident, but it does seem like he went to the hospital because his family did receive $30,000 in compensation from the school when Leslie threatened illegal action. In 1973, Keith graduated high school. He was valedictorian and he was quickly accepted into Stanford,

JK. He graduated 161st in his class, 161st in class of 174, had a GPA of 1.72, which means he got a lot more D's than A's, B's's and C's. His IQ is recorded as being 102 right in the middle of the average range. So while he was no genius, you know, how do you apply himself? He could have gotten much better grades. Key three college just fucking around the whole time in school, not reading any books and cheating just to get season D's. Probably sent a spend a significant portion of his classroom time day dreaming about what new horrible shit he could do to neighborhood pets. College was not part of grown keys planned after high school. This champion of a meat sack didn't even move out his parents trailer for a couple years.

Stay at home, work in odd, menial jobs. 1975, 20-year-old Keith still living with his parents. Got his first taste of killing larger animals when he began dragging stray dogs. And of course, beloved cats, end to a field near the park where he would beat them to death with a shovel, strangle them with his bare hands or shoot them with his BB gun, and he loved it. Just for some later brag to a reporter, I was Arnold Schwarzenegger. It was like I was playing war.

When I looked at those dogs, they would squat and pee. They'd be so scared they'd tremble. My God! This guy was such a fucking loser. Yeah, just like Arnold Schwarzenegger. Back when Arnold used to live in Yakima in a trailer park. When his parents are with his parents, and when he was just beating straight dogs to death,

I'm so powerful, look at my muscles, you little gilly dogs. Look at my massive pectoral that were almost developed enough to make it to the top of the wrestling rope, your little girly cats. Trumble with fear, small hungry animals that just was a human to be kind to you. If when you're 20 you still lived in your mama's trailer and beaten neighborhood pets to death made you feel like Arnold Schwarzenegger you might be a killer and you're for sure news bag uh... the power he held over animals just for sin uh... as he would later say got him hot

you come to the point where killing something is nothing just person said it's that same feeling whether he was strangling a human being or an animal uh... he said you've already felt the pressure on the throat of them trying to grab air. You're actually squeezing the life out of these animals and there is a much difference. They're going to fight for their lives just as much as a human being will. After hearing that, Bojangles just started putting a plan together to break into the Oregon state penitentiary and sail him. Where Keith is currently being held, he uses one front paw to choke the fucking life out

of this piece of shit. Bojangles are telling me he's going to let go of the dude's windpipe just long enough so he can piss in his mouth until he can start to drown him. And then before he, you know, drowns to death, he's gonna go full Albert fish and finish him off with some paint about butter and some showbiz. This dude was the most ruthless dude we have come across thus far in the suck first when it comes to animal cruelty. Worse than even Ed camper put in heads on sticks mother.

Just for some kill those dogs and cats, those bare hands, strangled him, hit him with blunt, you know, or sharp objects, burn him alive, poison him, force them to kill each other. He would have made old school Michael Vic sick with all the shit he did to animals. In at least one instance, he slowly killed a Tomcat with the BB gun saying, I cornered this big Tom and shot him over and over until he finally just laid there and balled with each new BB shot into his flesh. God damn it. I shot BBs up his ass and lower body parts.

I used rocks to smash his paws. Fuck! Poked his flesh to make him jump. It took 56 BBs before he died. My God! You were almost certainly going to start killing people. If you're that sadistic to animals, what in the fuck? When he was later interviewed about his cruelty to animals, Keith often brought up his father.

Uh-huh. And this next 60 or so seconds of Keith's interview is actually rougher than when I just read. I want to skip ahead, not kidding. And I cut a fair amount of his writings from this because they were, I was like, no, no. This, this gives a just, I don't, no, no, this, this gives us a jest. I don't, I don't want to fucking read any worse than this.

So just imagine that as bad as these things are. He said, Dad said, you're, you're going to control the area of Keith if an animal becomes a pest shoot it. I got real good at hitting dogs on the run. I bought a CO2 pistol and accidentally shot a neighbor's dog and had to pay the vets. They got the pellet. After that, I took a few strays to the pound, but they found their way back. I decided to take no prisoners after that.

I killed the pest with whatever I had at hand, hammer, sickle, scythe, screwdriver, shovel, bare hands. I'd take a dog into the sagebrush, give him a good kick, and then open fire with my 3030. I tossed the suckers out of the window at 50 miles an hour, and he just goes on and on and on. I baited trash cans with poison meat, collected bodies in the mornings for anybody got up. One night I killed seven cats and kittens. I caught a dog in our garbage, used a hook size to cut off his head.

I threw cats in the incinerator. I set one on fire and it ran for the barn, flames everywhere. Another cat got into our burn barrel. I put a piece of plywood over the top, poured in gasoline and threw in a match to cat howled until it was cooked. It made me hot and hard. I enjoyed the feeling of power. I like taking a cat or dog into my room and poking it with a stick.

There was no running away from Keith, the Avenger. I knew it was wrong to hurt dumb animals, but I did it anyway. It was just an urge. If you refer to yourself as Keith, the Avenger for, ah, fuck it. Keith, the 100-gestington dig rope to be killer. Well, it pays to shit. I'm done everybody. Thanks for coming out. Be sure to tape your weight staff. Steps out.

Steps had it with this guy's childhood. When just president was 20 or I guess a childhood and young adult was just president was 20. He somehow got married. I fuck her. She rose hucky. She was 18. They got married in August 2nd, 1975. Keese brother Bruce was the best man. And according to Keese, a couple fought all night throughout their honeymoon. Or I'm sorry, fought all throughout their honeymoon. The fighting started their wedding night. When Keese told Rose, he wasn't going to be able to get fully hard unless he could either

set a cat on fire or shoot a, you know, probably gone up a dog's ass. J.K.S. Now what they fought, they did fight about his marriage to Rose. Keith would write two weeks before the wedding, I said, Dad, I can't marry Rose. I don't love her. He says, I've already invited the relatives. Ha, ha, ha, ha.

You probably don't disgrace your friend. What a terrible thing. I've heard, and I've heard this story from like other people too. Well, no, you have to get married. We sent out the invitations. That is so fucking dumb. Oh, yeah, you know, you married. We sent out the invitations. That is so fucking dumb. Oh, yeah, you know, you have to commit the rest of your life to something to doom to fail.

We said, we have cake. We have cake ordered. Come on. He says, rose wandered out of her house in the worst way. I was her ticket to freedom from her mother and three brothers. She said we'd be married on her 18th birthday. I still didn't know how to say no. It almost didn't happen.

At the rehearsal at Denny's restaurant, I was thinking how much I would like to run off with the maid of honor, Rose's friend Pam, and I gave her a friendly kiss. Rose said, why'd you do that? I said, she kisses better than you. So that's, that's fun. To hear right before you get married. I felt pinned in and wanted to get out of there, but it was too late. I was smothered by Rose and my relatives. Let's do this. Ah, it's everybody else's fault. It's everybody else's fault. He got married.

Man, you just couldn't do anything about it, you know? It's not like he was a 20 year old grown up. These people, they would go on to have three kids, two daughters and one son. Data births don't seem to be listed anywhere I can find, but daughter Melissa was born in either late 1978 or early 1979. Brother Jason was born roughly two years later. Sister

Carey was born roughly a year after Jason. Keith does seem to love his kids. He still gets visits in prison from at least Melissa. Claims you have been an excellent father. You know, he never said anybody's kids on fire never shot up, uh, you know, uh, Pelican up the asses of anybody's kids. So I, you know, I guess he wasn't that bad. He barely killed cats in front of him, more on that later. He's terrible, dad. The family struggled financially, moved around from Yakima to the little town of Topanish, just 20 miles outside of Yakima, moved to various other little towns in Washington,

state, and British Columbia. He stopped driving to work in some mines for a while in Canada before getting fired and returning to driving, got hard on the construction company, then drifted on the two other jobs, managed an apartment complex for a little while and exchanged for half off his monthly rent, eventually settled back into a career in Long Hall trucking. And I know we have a lot of Long Hall truckers as time suckers by the way, appreciate you, drive safe,

don't let any of the nonsense distract you into an accident. He'll never run. For years, outside of killing more animals brutally, when the wife and kids weren't watching mostly, Keith lived a fairly normal life. He was cheating on his wife on a regular basis when he was at a town of Long Halls, but he wasn't killing anyone,

and he wasn't taking the strap to any of his kids that I couldn't find records of. He wasn't encouraging his kids to beat neighborhood stray animals to death that I'm aware of. 1975, when he's 30, Keith's mom glad as dies a canter, and he doesn't seem to care. He creeps out most of his family by seeming to think it was funny. He expressed no sadness whatsoever.

Siblings and others remember him laughing a lot that day being pretty jovial, making a lot of jokes about how mom was just ashes now. Keith the comedian sounds like he bombed that day. Gotta know your audience, dude. We're making a lot of jokes about how mom was just ashes now. Keith's the comedian. Sounds like you bombed that day. Gotta know your audience, dude. Funeral's a tough crowd for mom is dead now, jokes. Man, I thought our uptight mom couldn't get any stiffer. Have you tried moving one of her arms?

Oh, that stick up her ass seems to have spread to the rest of her body. I mean, right? Come on, nobody, get it? Our whole body is a stiff as a board now. You know, like a board is basically made out of sticks. Ah, you guys suck, man, it's just gold, people. Three years later, after more somewhat normal life,

in 1988, while still married to Rose, Keith meets someone else. Just for some, later, write about it. Had a truck stop south of weed, California, I met a skinny little brown-haired waitress named Peggy Jones. I floored it with her for a while, got her phone number. Then I had to leave for my run north. A few weeks later, I stopped and weed for a 10 hour layover and called Peggy's number in Dunsmear.

I dropped my trailer, ran Bobtail to replace to pick her up. All I was looking for was a quick lay on the way back to Seattle. Class, nothing but class with Keith. Later we got into the back of my truck and had sex. Then I drove her to the truck stop and had sex again and drove her home and had sex one more time. Peggy was the only woman I've ever met who could keep up with me and still want more.

She asked, will I ever see you again? I said in a few days and I kept my word. I told her I wasn't married. She said she was divorcing her husband and he had custody of their two kids. Since Dunsmear and Weed, right in the middle of my north-south runs, I started spending my sleeping time with her. Pretty soon I was falling in lust with her and then in love. I was spending more time with her. They weren't my wife and kids. So, clearly Keith and Rose's marriage is not going real gangbusters right now. Keith's daughter Melissa around nine or ten years old at

this time would later recall their parents fighting a lot, mostly about money. And Rose was suspecting Keith of cheating, but they stay married for a little bit longer. Keith and his family eventually moved to each and Washington, take up residence in a trailer park, not much more than an hour's drive from where I'm recording here in the suck dungeon. Keith gets a job at a long haul trucking outfit in Chini, Washington. Little college town that's the home of in Washington University, near Spokane. The family lives in Spokane.

Over towards Cheney, the move doesn't leave you at any tension in the marriage. In a 99 after 14 years, Rose decides she's had enough. While Jess Prism is on the road, she packs up her and her children's belongings and then goes over to live with her parents at their house in Spokane, Washington. In 1990, Keith and Rose's divorced, it's finalized and Keith moves to Oregon. Just for some stays in the picture, sees his children sporadically, visiting them when work brings him through Spokane.

Here's what Keith would have to say about this period of his life. I was living in my girlfriend's little ranch house in Portland, just off Interstate 84. I'd left my wife and kids for Peggy Jones, and now the bitch was out on the road screwing another trucker. Five days after Christmas, she'd gone to a truck stop and started flirting again.

Didn't come home that night and didn't call. Nothing new for Peg. Just after New Year's, the phone rang and the operator said, I have a click call for Keith Jesperson. It was Peggy, telling me she was in Knoxville with her new boyfriend. She ordered me out of her house, move. She said, if you're gonna stay there, you're gonna pay me rent.

She told me to send her money, called me an asshole and hung up. I felt like punching somebody, even though it wasn't my nature. I was sitting out front, stewing when I spotted an alley cat. Jesus Christ! I lured it into the house and prodded it into a corner

where it couldn't get away, then I strangled it. What in the fuck? He's so, he got it? Why is he alive? I fell like punch in somebody but that wasn't my nature. Right, cause you're such a general soul, Keith. Such a decent guy. And how crazy was it that Peggy screwed you over?

You're the victim again. Weird that the lady that you had a long time affair with behind your wife's back would then have an affair behind your back. What a tough break. This guy can't a tough break. Sky can't catch a break. Keys frustrations with women quickly turned into the beginning of his murder spree. Keys first known victim was Tonja Bennett near Portland, Oregon.

On Tuesday evening, January 23rd, 1990, the pretty 23 year old decided to go out for a few drinks, meet up with a few of her friends. It was a cold damp night, pretty typical weather for that time of year in Portland, Oregon. After grabbing her purse in Umbrella, she climbed into her car, drove towards the B&I Tavern, one of her favorite haunts on Portland, Oregon, Southeast side. She had a great time, laughing, getting drunk, creepy keys. She's there, watching her from the shadows. At first, Tonji never paid much attention to Keith, but he'd been watching her all night.

Eventually, Keith walked over to the pool tables area where Tonja had been watching the players with a glass of beer in his hand and he introduced himself to her and offered to buy her a drink. She accepted an unbeknownst to her. She had set into motion a series of events that would ultimately end her young life. Just for some was known to use a number of aliases, often a variation of his own name, and all likely to use an aliase that particular night. The 34 year old started to make poor Tonja laugh

and enjoy his company. Friends and family will later say that she was easy to be friend and sadly easy to take advantage of. She was described as mentally slow by her family. She trusted everyone. She didn't know how horrible the world could be. At one point, Jess presented an offer to buy her dinner. She accepted.

And then when he checked his wallet to see how much money he had, he realized he didn't have enough cash. Oh, I'm a heck, gosh dang. He told you, Tanya that he had more money at home and invited her to come back with him and get it. Tanya agreed. When they got to his place, she followed him inside unaware that his quest for cash was just a way to get her alone with him. Here is just presents account of what had happened. I was fascinated, her trust in a total stranger. Maybe it was because she was half drunk. I realized that I was in full control. I came up behind her and kissed her neck.

She ran straight for the door. I grabbed her and said, I guess sex is out of the question. When she didn't answer, I laid her on the mattress and kissed her. That's some rapy shit. Kissed someone on the neck, they run for the door, and then you say, oh, I guess sex is out of the question. Yeah.

When someone runs away from you, the sex is out of the question. You complete basic shit. Keith continues, the curtains were shut and the windows and doors closed. She was trapped. She wriggled away and ran to the door again. I was surprised how strong she was. I dragged her back to the mattress. I could feel her trembling in my grip.

But just when I thought she was totally scared, she kissed me and told me to hurry. Kissed me again, I said, with feeling. When she realized that I was giving the orders, she began to put out a little, listen to how the dude rationalizes this rape. You know, he's not a rapist, he's just in control. He's just one given orders.

Yeah, she's fucking scared of you. You giant sexual predator. He goes on, after a while, I yanked down her jeans and rubbed her crotch. I realized under her, I reached under her top and pushed the bra up and over her breasts. We kissed some more. She guided me in and a few strokes. I came in an orgasm, but as a post a different kind of coming fucking moron. I didn't want to stop. I stayed inside and waited and pretty soon I was giving it to her again, slowing easy. She finally got tired of waiting for me. She didn't know I'd already come.

She yanked at me and started babbling. I don't feel a thing. Why don't you get it over with and take me out to dinner, no more kissing. I'm not in love with you, man. Let's go. I'm hungry. I saw red. It brought back so many nights with other women.

WAM, BAM, thank you, Keith. A lot of women are users. Sex is a means to an end, not a romantic thing. They'll give you a little, but not because they love you. I pumps in another orgasm, and then I look down at her with my dick still inside, and I thought, now that it's over, she'll expect payment in full. Well, I'm not giving her a dime. I don't have to put up with that kind of self with shit anymore.

This is her fault. Huh? Interesting. I don't believe for a fucking second that she said, I'm not in love with you her fault. Huh? Interesting. I don't believe for a fucking second that she said, I'm not in love with you, man. Let's go. I'm hungry. This is all just the crazy shit that goes around this fucking just destroyed human being's mind. Oh, he's incredibly made himself to victim in an incident where he's actually raping somebody else. He then says, I just wish in these kind of things like the, the counselor can come back after they get taken into prison, put on wish in these kind of things, like the counselor could come back after they get taken into prison, put on death row, and they give this kind of statement.

The counselor could just go to the prison guys and they, listen, the best thing we could do for everybody is just to put them down today. No more waiting. Let's just put them down today. I'll actually pull the trigger myself if it speeds things up. He then says, I looked at her face and I could swear my ex-wife looked back. Oh, God. I decided to knock her out with one punch. She would wake up hog tied and nowhere to go.

Then I could take all the sex I wanted. I would figure I would to do with her after I had my fun. I still wasn't thinking about murder. He kind of where? I put all my strength into one blow and punched her in the temple. She just stared at me. I hit her again to knock her out, but she stayed awake. I couldn't understand. When I was a boxer, I knocked guys out with one punch. Doubt it. I doubt it. Wearing 12 ounce gloves, I just don't buy any of that. I hit her again and again, but she wouldn't go under. I thought, why isn't this like the crime shows on TV? The more I hit her, the more I wanted to hit her. It felt like me and the cat only better. This guy in cats. In my 34 years, I'd never hit a female, but I smashed his girl 20 times,

rights, left, jabs, uppercuts, hooks. I punched her till I couldn't recognize her face, and I punched her some more. It just felt good. I felt like I was paying back the women in my life, the demons in my house, all of my troubles. The ghost would run off, no more noises in the night, waking me up.

Paying back the women in his life, I sent some anger towards mama in there as well. No wonder he was joking around in her funeral. He never really says why he hated his mom but I think he clearly hated her. Also, he hated his ex-wife, hated the woman he'd left her for and poor 23 year old Tonja Bennett becomes a recipient for all this misguided rage. After killing Tonja, Jefferson doesn't panic because he's a psychopath, it doesn't possess normal human emotions. Leaving her inside his rented house, he drives back to the B&I tavern. Just sits around, drinks, you know, talks to anyone who will listen to him, establishes

not alibi, putting that a 102 IQ to work. After a few more beers, Jesper's in drives back to his house, call me loads, Tonja's body into the front seat of a friend's car, knowing that he'd needed to dispose of her body, he drove eastward, past Portland city limits towards a Columbia River gorge, sticking to the old scenic highway, which was much darker, far less traveled and considered a series of curves and switchbacks. Jesperson found a suitable place near Crown Point, where it was secluded and dark enough to not be seen dumping her body. He pulled the car over, tossed on his body over an embankment, you know, on one of the

switchbacks, discarding her corpse as if it was just, you know, taking out the trash. Then he drove to a truck stop near the outer suburb of Troutdale, drank coffee the remainder of the night, established another alibi for himself. Hours later, just after dawn, cranked up on caffeine, Jesperson drove to the San Diego River highway, flung the contents of Tonja's purse, which included her organ identification card as well as the purse itself into a brushy area near the river. The giant man had just gotten away with his first murder, and he was, and he was a giant,

by the way, Tonja had no chance to escape from this violent attack the night before. Keith was dependent on which source you read anywhere from six six to six foot eight inches tall, and he weighed anywhere from 240 to 260 pounds. He was a big boy. Still is. Serial killer Ed camper, if you'll recall, six nine and 300 pounds, both still alive. And speaking of camper, time for another quick word from one of our sponsors. Today's time so it was brought to you by an upcoming and unprecedented pay-per-view MMA

event. A first ever cage match fought between two serial killers, US federal inmates with no hope of ever getting paroled, but they do get a chance at killing one more time. Sunday, Sunday, Sunday, January 5, 2020, ring in the new year with the cage match flight to the DAO. Ed Kemper, the literal motherfucker, takes two zapples into the ring and goes head to head against Keith, the Canadian cat-choker, Jasper's son! Which giant will fall?

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Put it on the docket. Put it on the docket. I'll vote for it. Let's get back to the timeline. A week after Keith killed Tonji, a student from out hood community college was bicycling along the old scenic highway when she spied a woman's course line in the brush. The victim had been strangled with the rope, still tied around her neck, her bra pulled up to expose her breasts,

pants, bunched down around her, around her ankles. The victim was identified through sketches broadcast in the media as of course, 23-year-old Tonja Bennett. The police had no suspects, and for the time being, Keith Jesperson was free to roam. Greatly helping Keith remain free was the strange occurrence of someone else taking credit for this murder. There are a couple accounts of how this false confession went down.

We'll give you a bit of a malgum of those accounts. A woman named Le Verne Pavlanak, 57, read the news reports surrounding Tonja Bennett's death and got excited. Le Verne was an avid reader of mysteries and true crime books, as well as a devoted fan of the TV series, Matlock. This true crime lover was familiar with police procedures somewhat. As more information became available about Tonja's murder, Le Verne took in as much information about the case as she could. And as she eventually decided that Tonja's case. LeVern took in as much information about the case as she could and as she eventually decided

that Tonja's case could serve as the perfect vehicle to end her abusive tenure relationship with her living boyfriend, 43 year old John Sosnowski or LeVern or instead of wanting to frame your, you know, boyfriend for murder, you could have gone to a domestic violence shelter. Not saying I know how to get out of physically abusive relationships as a woman, but obviously, there has to be a better way to get out of it than to try and frame your abuser for a murder that didn't commit. Before the Vern Potter terrible plan of motion, she learned that Oregon State police detective Alan Corson and Multnomah County Sheriff's detective John Ingram were conducting the Tonja Bennett murder investigation. She called the detectives told him that she had important information about the case. Corson and Ingram both conducting the Tonja Bennett murder investigation. She called the detectives, told them that she had important information about the case.

Course in an Ingram, both eager to solve the Bennett case, promptly went to Levering's home to hear what she had to say, but before we go further, with what she told him, let's back up a bit. Before Levering had come to authorities, detectives had scoured the bars and truck stops where Bennett was known to spend much of her time. And one cafe employees recalled a frequent customer, John Sosnovsky, boasting that he had murdered a woman he met in a bar. He was laughing, a waitress told police. He thought it was a big joke. Sound like a real sharp guy, real fun guy, a lot of class acts in

this suck. Already on probation for drunk driving and driving in the suspended license, John was a notorious drinker whose girlfriend LeVern had a habit of reporting him to the police on phony charges every time they fought. eight months before the murder in the spring of nineteen eighty nine she had telephone the FBI falsely accused john of robbing banks when the g men cleared him she repeated the accusation to local police who also cleared him can now back to jess for since first murder now pulled in for question again she's found some other you know police officers to listen to her LeVern accused her husband again ofabennett's murder and this time the police obtained a search warrant for the couple's home.

Of course, none of Bennett's personal effects are found. When the Verne is first questioned by police or was first questioned, she told him that John had merely boasted of their murder. Now because that didn't work, she ups the ante. She decides to become an eyewitness to help put him behind bars and she confesses that she watched him rape and kill Tonja on the night of January 23. When the detectives come to her house, the Verontel's course in Ingram, how she had been roughed up at Johns Hans for years, the detectives listen to the Verontel's in that she had

been forced by John to help him rape Tonja. She explained in seemingly intricate detail about the rape right down to the placement of the rope around Tonsha's neck and her subsequent strangulation, as she claimed John's hands. She also tells detectives that John had forced her to assist him in disposing of the body and covering up the crime. Course in an Ingram don't know what to make of Le Verne's statement. She has a terrible history of false accusations, but eager to close this case, they leave the Verne's home deciding to look further into it, just because Le Verne is a proven liar,

has a history of false accusations doesn't mean she's lying this time. They track down John when they tell him what Le Verne said. Of course, he denies what Le Verne had told him, claims he was innocent, which he was. Over the next several weeks, Course at Ingram continued to interview Le Verne about the case. They even take Le Verne about the case. They even take Le Verne out to the Columbia River Gorge to see if she could point out specific crime details only the police in the killer would know. She does pretty well, passes the tests with regard to where Tonja's body had been duped,

but she's unable to point out other important things, details like where Tonja's personal belongings were, where her purse and stuff might be located. As the investigation continues with Levere and John, clearly the prime suspects in this case coarset an ingram confer with Multnomah County deputy district attorney Jim McIntyre, turnover copies of their case materials to the prosecutor. As a result, Levere and John eventually are arrested and charged with Tonja's death. Although he had originally claimed he was innocent, John facing a possible death penalty decides to plead guilty.

Using Le Verne's detailed confession, Mac and Tyre is instrumental in getting both Le Verne and John sentenced to prison in February 1991, life in prison for John, and a minimum of 10 years for Le Verne. And Le Verne is like, oh shit. Oh man, I did not think this through. Super happy that I've sent John to jail for life. That's, that part's awesome.

Big fan of that part. Did not realize I would have to serve at least 10 years in prison. Did not realize that I won't get out until I'm damn near seven years old. So, JK, JK. Can I be like, oh no? Sorry about the story. Sorry, it's just another one of my crazy lies.

No big whoops, right, guys? Come on, let me out. The Verne starts telling everyone that she made up the entire story and her relationship with John. Unfortunately, no one believes her. Police stuff, the case was closed, you know, probably. I thought it was probably closed. They were troubled by some recent graffiti that had been found, but not enough to, you know, give her an appeal. In January of 1991, when the Verne's on trial, disturbing messages have been found written on a men's room wall at a Greyhound Busty Poe in Livingston, Montana. It read,

I killed Tonja Bennett January 21st, 1990, Portland, Oregon. I beat her to death, raped her, and loved it. I'm sick, but I enjoy myself. Two people took the blame, and I'm free. A few days later, in a truck stop men's room in Umatilla, Oregon, a second message is found. I killed Tonja, Benna, and Portland. Two people got the blame so I can kill again. Weird for me to think about these locations.

I drove all over the Northwest in my early years of touring as the standup comic, doing every show that would have me, working shithole bars and rough little towns all over Montana, Idaho, Oregon, Washington, driving all over the place, all hours the day and night. I've been to truck stops and both of these towns, been to rest areas around those towns, probably use the same bathroom's Keith scribble his graffiti in, maybe sat in the same stall. Both messages signed with a happy face, a circle with two dots for eyes and a broad crescent smile. The Texas and Portland theorized

that some unknown friend of John Sasnowski had written the graffiti in an effort to spring John from prison. They just couldn't figure out who it was because one of John's friends had written those messages. Keith Jesperson had written those messages. By the time investigators were trying to figure out who had written those messages,

Keith had almost killed the second victim. Around 10 p.m. on Thursday, April 12, 1990, and a shopping center parking lot in Mount Shasta, California, next to the I-5 corridor. Jessperson was approached by an intoxicated woman carrying an infant. Both the woman and child ended up in Jessperson's car where a conversation started,

and according to Jessperson, the attack that followed went like this. At the Shasta shopping center, I tried to decide if I wanted to leave my car or take a cheap motel room. A nice looking woman's drilled up, a baby sucking her breast while she sucked a pint of Jack Daniels. She says, what are you looking at?

It's only natural. Nope, I don't buy this at all. I do not buy this fucking idiots accounts are terrible of what he did. Really dude? A woman with a baby on her teeth walked up to you while simultaneously knocking back a pint of JD, drinking wall feeding, and saying, what are you looking at? It's only natural. That is some like shitty screenplay, kind of writing.

Get the fuck out of here. I'm guessing a woman holding a baby approached him, maybe needed some money and the rest of it is just lies. That's what I think. He says, she took a few steps closer to give me a better look at her tits. Okay. Mm-hmm. Uh, then we went and sat on a railroad tie.

I could see she was half drunk. She told me her name was Jean and her kid was six months old. I told her I was Keith Hunter, Jess Percent, and I was on my way to a temporary job at Copenhagen Ut utilities in Sacramento. She said she just had a big fight with her husband. After we talked a little more, she took the last sip from her pint, asked me to walk her to the Giffy Mart to buy some beer. I carried the 12 pack to my car. We sat in the front seat, grived about our troubles. Then she had me drive her out in the country to look to a lookout place where the locals went. She handed me her baby, dropped her jeans, and pe a lookout place where the locals went. She handed me her baby

dropped her jeans and peed right next to the open door. I couldn't believe a woman would do that. Mm-hmm. Right, because you're such a classy gentleman. You haven't been hanging around those kind of ladies. So when she got back I handed her the baby and did the same thing. She was giving me ideas. Okay. The conversation naturally turned to sex. She claimed to be the best blowjob in Chastle County. She was sexy all right, maybe 580 to 150 pounds comfortable figure. When she was talking, I unsit my pants, pulled him and pulled him out.

I played with him in the dark and hopes that she would go down on me. She laid the baby on the back seat and leaned over my lap. I grabbed her by the hair and shoved her face down. That made me even hotter. I was about to orgasm when a whimper came from the back seat and she pulled off. She said, I don't know what I'm doing here. I married and I don't need this. Drive me home.

Just like that. I shoved her back in my caucus harder than I could. A stiff prick has no conscience. When her lips touched him, he shot all over her face. Dude, a stiff prick has no consciousness, no thoughts. You have a conscience. Well, you're supposed to. You have no conscience. You're supposed're supposed to. You have no conscience.

You're supposed to have one. You sociopathic rapist. And again, so many classic characters and situations in this suck. Right? Getting drunk into blowjob in the front seat while baby is in the backseat. What's the sad world some people choose to live in? Keith then says, she started screaming at me. So I put her in a headlock and yanked hard.

I was trying to break her neck, but I just couldn't get to leverage. It takes a lot of pressure to break a human neck. I tried three times for the baby crying in the back seat and she yelled, don't hurt my baby. I realized that if I killed Jean, I'd have to kill the baby too. What? Why would you have to do that? No, you wouldn't. I could never kill a kid and I came back to my senses.

I stepped out of the car, took some deep breaths and counted to 20. All thoughts of killing went away. Now Jean grabs her baby and heads for town. After she walked a hundred yards or so, I drove up and said, come on, you're back in. I'll drive you wherever you want to go. It's too cold to walk, it's not good for the baby. What the fuck?

After she, after she got in, I forgot that. After she got in, I said, I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me. I dropped her off at the same place I met her. That was my big mistake. I should have killed her. Now, your big mistake was fucking not killing yourself when you were about 18 years old. God, shortly after this incident, Jasperson was arrested at gunpoint in Corning, California

and Old Railroad Town with 100 miles, about 100 miles north of Sacramento. It was the personal details he had revealed to Jean that led police straight to him. He was questioned at the scene, then uncopped, told to go speak to Detective with the Shasta Police Department, which he immediately did. And by the way, ever since the National Park Ministry of Suck, whenever I hear about Shasta or Mount Shasta, I immediately think of Lemurians, those supposed alien creatures living in the mountain, the new age extremist thinker there. Keith was interrogated, claimed Jean's neck and Twitter was simply an accident from the cramped space of the car just just just a blow job logistics

predicament officers no big whoops gosh dang it was hard to get the angles right you know what I mean he also led police to evidence that supported his version of events somehow including showing them empty liquor bottle or an empty liquor bottle in the parking lot the claim was genes his version was apparently somehow more believable than jeans and he was released. Damn it. Despite that, a charge was filed against him for sexual assault. When he failed to appear in court, a felony warrant was issued. He was later arrested in Iowa at a wait check station after they ran his name in the National

Crime Information Center database, finding the outstanding warrant from California. Yes, get him. However, Shasta's county's warranty, Shasta County's warranty was two week, so the charge would reduce to a misdemeanor. After that, the cost of extra dishes wasn't worth it. And eventually he was exonerated of all charges. Dammit. And then a year and a half after his first murder, Jess Prasin would kill again. On August 30, 1992, the body of a woman Keith raped and strangled was found near Blythe, California. Keith said that this Jane Doe's name was Claudia, when he later wrote about her murder. He met her to truck stop and says she didn't care

where Keith was going. She introduced herself as a throwaway girl. I hope that's not true, how sad. She told me her name was Claudia, he wrote, she looked clean, but she had no luggage, a bad sign. It meant she could be a female hobo, mooching off drivers. She could be a doper looking for a fix. Regardless, she got in the cab, traveled with him for a while. He says he bought her clothes at first day and then invited her to sleep in his sleep for the first night. I leaned over and kissed her, but she didn't kiss back. She said, if you want sex, just ask for it and I'll tell you how much.

I said, I don't pay for it. Which is not true. He did use it. I tried to kiss her again and she pressed her lips together. I readjusted her position on the bed and started yanking off her clothes. When she was naked, I stripped him again to grow up her body. I had to force her legs apart to enter her and that made the sex even better. I think you mean rape.

I think you mean that that made the rape even better. Keith, you're, you're raping again. If you somehow don't know that. Keith said, I orgasm fast, not wanting this to end too quick. I waited for my hardness to return. I was thinking this bitch is mine. I'll do what I want to her. We had more sex and she pretended to get into it. I knew what she was thinking. If she convinced me we were friends, I wouldn't hurt her. I was on to her act. Keith the victim. He's being manipulated. Oh, man.

God, what a bummer. Keith, he's all these ladies out to fucking trick you. Too bad a old Leslie didn't strap you to death when you were a kid. Keith continues. We stopped at the next truck stop, eight and showered. I wonder why she didn't just take off, but after I bought her some cigarettes, I found out what she was really looking for. According to Jess, she was obsessed with getting some crank and that bothered Keith

because he was a clean up standing citizen with no drug policy. Right. He's a super good guy. Remember, he said, Claudio got on his CB radio and asked the whole damn world if anybody had crank. And then she started asking for spending money and generous, good, hard to Keith gave her $20. And she didn't like that. According to Jess, presented she said to him, give me the money I saw on your wall or I'll blow the whistle on you. He said, for what? He said, give me the money I saw on your wallet or I'll blow the whistle on you. He said, for what? He said, give me the money and I'll walk or she said, give me the money and I'll walk

away. No questions asked. Otherwise, I'll tell that security guard how you assaulted me, which he did. Once again, Jess, present pains himself as a victim, you know, in a murder he committed and he also, you know, did rape her. He says, my mind was going wild at the possibilities. I said, are you crazy? She said, what's it going to be? Your money or jail? I reached over and locked the doors. I said, neither one bitch. I'd rather roll a duct tape under my pillow, tape her arms in front of her.

I taped her ankles together. I looked out over the parking lot, saw it was empty. I pushed my fist into her neck like I did the tongine and she went to sleep just like that. I was trying to decide what to do with her body when she opened her mouth and said, this is bullshit. You can't kill me. I taped her arms to the side vent so she couldn't fall off the bed. I got dressed and told her to shut up. Now that I was heading toward my second murder, I knew I'd be facing the devil someday. And to please him, I had to do a better job of killing.

This made this murder easier morally because God had nothing to do with it. It can't like weird rationalization here, right? He has to. He has to kill harder now because that's the only way he's going to please the it. Again, like weird rationalization here, right? He has to. He has to kill harder now, because that's the only way he's going to please the devil and he's going to hell. So he's got to, you know, got to catch the devil's eye. Keith continues, now I can concentrate on killing. I'm raping her in the sleeper again when I hear two cars

pull up and the shadow of my truck. Cops. One was a canine unit with a dog. They were using my shade to cool the dog while they went inside and ate. I eased away nice and easy. Got back on I-10. By the time we reached Indio, she, uh, she worked herself out of the tape and was trying to get dressed.

I hope I opened the curtain and I see she's already, she's ready to pop out and run. She was just waiting for me to stop. He reapplies the constraints. He pulled after pulling off into a gravel area and then he says, at the next truck stop, I screwed her till I couldn't get it up anymore. It was supreme total gratification. I'm running this show bitch. I was talking about running the show.

It's like a power hundred pieces of shit, right? Noticed, we more sadistic this time around. He's embracing his role as rapist torture. Yeah, and like all rapists, you know, he craves that power. He says, I started to play a little death game with her. User is a toy in amusement. I choked her, let her wake up, choked her again, let her wake up again. That's the kind of game I should have played with Tonsha.

Each time this woman came to, she made threats. You bastard, I'm not gonna take this shit. I'll turn you into the cops, you son of a bitch. For somebody who was already half dead, she was sure cocky. After I choked her the third time, I waited 10 or 15 minutes till she revived. I said, take a deep breath, count to 10. Now hold your breath. Then I choked her out again.

When she woke up, I told her to count to nine. Squeeze her neck again. I was playing with her like a cat with a mouse. As the game went on, I tell her to count to eight, then seven, six, five. I was breaking her mind. I wanted her to accept it. One of these times she wouldn't wake up,

find that she caught on and just accepted the game. Why can't every state quickly enforce the death penalty for sub-human like this? Like why? How is he allowed in any fucking just world to sit in a cell alive after all this? You're not smiling and joining, probably reflecting on all the shitty

of the women and pets, watching TV shows. Steve doesn't deserve to have an ounce of fucking happiness. Keith continues, my adrenaline rush as I squeezed the breath out of her lungs for the last time. The power in my hands was supernatural, even though I was wiped out, it gave me another heart on.

I needed to get rid of her body, but where? I went into the truck stop restaurant and relaxed with some iced tea. I was surprised how calm I felt. I knew I should feel remorse, but I just wished I could start all over again. Just a month later, he would start all over again. The body of Cynthia Lynn Rose

was found in Turlock, California. According to Jess person, she was a prostitute working the Southbound rest area in highway 99 near Turlock. This would be September 1992. Keith claims he choked Cynthia because she came in his truck while he was sleeping. After previously telling her, he wasn't interested in having sex. Uh huh, he's a victim again. He's mind his own business. When this vicious nasty woman demands that she, you know, that he sexually pleases her. He goes, I reached over and grabbed her

and slammed her on the bed. Before she could open her mouth, I started to squeeze her throat. After a while, she went limp, and I realized she'd stop breathing. I killed my third victim, and I didn't even know her name. And for what?

Nothing. I didn't even get to play the death game with her or have sex. What a waste. What a selfish fuck. Oh Poor Igor Around this around the time of this murder Keith wrote letters to the media signed his letter with that smiley happy face A columnist for the Oregonian quickly dubs him the happy face killer Although letters were turned over to police There was little else for investigators to go on and Jess Jess person would maintain his anonymity for a bit longer.

Just two months later, Jess person would murder yet another woman, his fourth victim was another prostitute, Laurie and Pentland of Salem, Oregon. He wrote that he had used her services before, right? See this filthy liar. He did pay for sex. Her body was found in November of 1992, according to Jess person saying she attempted to double the fee, she'd previously charged him for sex, and that pissed him off. How dare she exercise some form of capitalism upon him? How dare she throw a little supply and demand

financial less in his way? According to Jess for saying when he got mad, she threatened to call the police so he strangled her. Again, he played the death game, choking her, letting her come back, choking her again. Lori's body found behind a store in Salem, detective still had no leads for the happy face killer. Keith would later write about this murder saying, even after she closed her eyes and went limp, I can't push until I was sure she was dead.

Then I stretched her out and cleaned the spot where she'd peed her raincoat. I locked the doors behind me, went into the cafe. I looked into my cup of coffee and I wondered about the mentality of these truck stop hookers. He wondered about their mentality. I wonder if he ever reflect on his own mentality. I don't think so. I don't think this dude's capable or willing to do a lot of self-reflection. Just over six months later, his next victim's body, the fifth murder, Jane Doe found west of Santa, Nellie, California on a state highway near a truck turn out in July 1993, about a hundred mile southeast

to San Francisco, Santa Nella home of one of two locations of pea soup andresense. Little restaurant gift shops, the Queen of the Suckelins United stopped at when moving from Los Angeles to Coralaine, very cute, very good split pea soup. I wonder if this Jane Doe used to eat there, wonder if Keith used to eat there as well. The woman had been found dead for only a couple days when her body had been dead.

Excuse me, for only a couple days when her body was found. County coroner listed her death as a drug overdose. Her case would soon be reopened. Looked at as a homicide after the happy face killer wrote another letter and referred to her as a street person. More than a year later, September 1994, on the 14th, another Jane Doe is found in Crestview in Western Florida not far from Pensacola.

Jess Prson claims her name was Suzanne, same MO, rape, strangulation. Also in 1994, the Portland Oregonian receives another letter in the same awkward handwriting, signed with the same smiling face. The author has now claimed a total of six victims. He wrote, I feel bad, but I will not turn myself in. I'm not stupid. In a lot of opinions, I should be killed and I feel I deserve it. Huh? We agree there at least. My responsibility is mine and God will judge me when I die. I am telling you this because I will be responsible

for these crimes and no one else. It all started when I wondered what it would be like to kill someone. And I found out what a nightmare it has been. Oh, it's been a nightmare. Oh, parakeet. I think it's been a dream come true for you. You were sick fuck of a kid who loved to brutally torture and kill animals. And now you're sick fuck of an adult who loves to brutally torture and kill, you know, women. I think this letter just one more example of him just, you know, he can't take the blame. He wants people to feel sorry for him. You know, he's the victim. He's the one living through the nightmare. The letter closes on an anonymous or ominous note saying, look over your shoulder.

I'm closer than you think. Ooh, big scary Keith. The Arnold Schwarzenegger of his own action movie. I'd be terrified if I was a cat. At the beginning of the following year, Keith would commit his seventh murder, according to Jess, percent, he picked up Angela, surprise, near Spokane, Washington, January, 1995, agrees to give her a ride to Fort Collins, Colorado, to see her father. At one point along the way, they stopped so she can call her dad, who

Jess, percent would later claim, told her that he didn't want to see her and to stay away. Afterward, Angela changes her mind about going to Fort Collins and asked Jess to take her to Indiana instead to visit a friend. In a rage, Jess versus said, I murdered her in Wyoming. He played the death game, even as she pleaded and prayed, how dare she asked to be taken in Indiana, how dare she take advantage of Keith's good nature. Jess versus went on to explain to him became in rage when Angela would not let him sleep when they had stopped at a truck stop just east of Cheyenne, Wyoming.

She kept quote, bitching at him to keep driving in bad weather. And he ended up strangling her by placing his fist tightly against her throat as he had done so many times before. Afterwards, he's went back to sleep, putting out bothered by what he had done. When he woke up, he wanted what he should do with her body, put her in a plastic garbage bag, and then he'd later say, I wasn't sure what to do with her, because she'd been'd been seeing hanging out with me for over a week off and on and she'd use my credit card to call her dad and boyfriend She probably had a rap sheet her fingerprints might even be on file I decided that I had to make her disappear completely. I drove to McDonald's and ordered for two

I sat in the truck and talked to her and by the way that credit card was actually his brothers the piece of shit even took from his fucking brother I drove to McDonald's in order for two. I sat in the truck and talked to her. If you had just played straight with me, bitch, you would be eating right now. I thought I'd laughed. I didn't feel remorseful at all. To me, she was just another bitchy woman, better off dead. Oh, man, she chose to rile up the powerful Keith. How dare she upset this great testament to manhood. Didn't she know she was dealing with a very important person? And then what he chose to do next is pretty fucking heinous even by his standards. He speaks to how much hatred he had towards his women, how little their lives meant to him.

He said, it is rough. With the truck dark, I laid her stiff body on the pavement. I tied a length of black nylon rope to cross to a cross member under my trailer, just long enough to allow her body to drag between the dual rear wheels so she wouldn't be seen from passing vehicles. I connected the rope to her ankles, placed her nose down under the trailer. That way I could drag her backward and grind off her face and prints. I did all this in about three minutes. A few clusters of traffic passing but didn't slow down. I ended up dragging her 12 miles before I slowed down to check what was left.

One shoulder was gone, a thigh gone, her chest was broken, guts gone, arm and hands gone to the shoulders. I figured that other drivers would see her body parts in her headlights and think they were roadkill. Then he tries to make a joke. This fucking piece of shit. A two-legged deer. Her face was ground off to the ears.

No dental work to worry about. I dragged what was left down the bank and dumped her in 12-inch grass, about 50 feet from the freeway, and then 10 feet inside the fence. Man, like most serial killers, he just did whatever it would keep him from being caught. No matter how fucked up it was. He, two months after murdering Angela, just percent of the signs that a woman he'd been dating off and on for a while, Julie Ann winning him was only interested in him for his money. She's just taken advantage of him. It's another nasty woman. And she needed to die as well. So he's eight's victim.

According to him, he really liked Winningham, but still on March 10th, 1995 in Washington, Logan just located just across the Columbia River from Troutdale, that Portland subreddit mentioned earlier. He strangles her. And her murder would be his downfall. She was the first and only victim he had a personal link to. On the night of her death, as Jess person raped her,

he told her about his many murders. He said, I told her how I dragged a woman under my trailer till a thousand pieces flew off. When she heard that, she went limp. She laid there quiet and docile waiting for the end. I played the death game three or four more times. I thought about saving her for the next night, but I didn't want to push my luck.

She could put me in prison and she would. Thank God. Keith tossed her nude body down a scenic bank off of Columbia, off of the Columbia Gorge highway. And a few days later investigators found her remains. Season Clark County, Washington Sheriff's Department Detective Rick Buckner, known for his role in the Wesley Allen Dodd Child murders investigation a few years prior, received the Julie and Winningham case assignment. Buckner initially learns that Winningham was a campus resident who had relocated to Utah for a while to break in out with their truck driver husband. According to those he interviewed, she returned to campus in February 1995 with a man named

Keith Jessperson, who she referred to as her fiance. Didn't take long for Buckner to track down, you know, where Keith worked. He worked for a chiny Washington based trucking company still by Wednesday, March 22, 1995. Buckner had traced Jesperson to Los Cruces, New Mexico, a city located in the Mexican border. And with the help of sheriff's deputies and Los Cruces, Buckner and another detective named detained Keith, excuse me, for more than six hours in question him about the murder of Julie Winningham. And by Jesperson's own account, Buckner and the other question, him about the murder of Julie Winningham. And by Jess Percent's own account, Bucketer and the other detective tried to get him

to confess to Winningham's murder. He wouldn't talk lacking enough concrete evidence, minus confession at the moment to arrest him. The detectives had no choice but to release him, but he was still obviously the prime suspect. Afterward, Jess Percent immediately heads for Arizona, Bucketer returns to Washington, shortly after being interrogated and released while traveling through Southern Arizona, Jessper attempts to kill himself. I think kind of, I don't think he tried that hard.

First he tried it even to March 22nd, then again on the next night, each time he tried to overdose on some over the counter-sleeping pills. Each time he set his body reject to the pills, to me this is just another plea for sympathy for him. He was worried that he'd soon be caught. He didn't want to accept the consequences. March 21st, or excuse me, March 24th, 1995, after deciding that the cops were going to nail him for Julie Winningham's murder.

And then he might be able to avoid the death penalty if he just turned himself in. Jess Person wrote two letters. One to his kids, one to his brother, the letter to his brother in part red, seems like my luck has run out. I will never be able to enjoy life on the outside again. I got into a bad situation and got caught up with emotion.

Yeah, it's not as far, you guys. He kind of, he stumbled really into a bad situation. Could it get happened to any of us? You know, as one does, he got caught up in too much emotion. He's a great dude, just fucking circumstances, you know? He continues with, I killed a woman in my truck during an argument with all the evidence against me. caught up in too much emotion. He's a great dude, just fucking circumstances, you know? He continues with, I killed a woman in my truck during an argument with all the evidence against me.

It looks like I truly am a black sheep. The court will appoint me a lawyer. There will be a trial. I am sure they will kill me for this. I am sorry that I turned out this way. I have been a killer for five years and have killed eight people assaulted more. I guess I haven't learned anything.

Dad was always worried about me because of what I've gone through and the divorce, finances, et cetera. What he's gone through? Oh, man, his mean wife put him through the ringer because he was just doing, all he was doing was fucking a lot of other women on the road. You know, gosh, dang.

If only he hadn't been born a black sheep. Why did God curse him so? Please God, take care of Keith. Oh, he's such a good guy. Keith continues with, I've been taking it out on different people. As I saw it, I was hoping they would catch me. I took 48 sleeping pills last night and I woke up well-rested because he's on his towards the nigger. You can't put the terminator down with some sleeping pills. The night before I took two bottles of pills to no avail, he's just too tough. And then he says,

they will arrest me today. Oh Keith, if you really wanted to have been caught and stopped, you could have turned yourself in after the first murder. Right, this letter reads to me, again, just another pathetic attempt to garner some sympathy, trying to avoid the death penalty. Later that same night, I've dropped in letters, he'd written off into the mail, just percent call detective Buckner

and confesses to the murder of Julie and winning him. Six days later, March 30th, Rick Buckner flies Arizona to take Jesperson into custody, return him to Washington State where he would be formally charged with winning Ham's murder when he arrives in Washington, Jesperson calls his brother and instructs him to destroy the letter that he had sent. Guess he thought maybe it wouldn't help him after all. Maybe he shouldn't have written the thing about killing the other woman. However, on the advice of a lawyer and Jesperson's father, his brother decides to turn the letter over to police and it was quickly

published by a number of newspapers. After arresting Jesterson based on Keith's referencing seven other homicides, Detective Buckner begins transmitting information about Jesterson to various law enforcement agencies around the country to see if he matches up for other crimes. Buckner provided information about Jesterson's confession and the letter that he'd written to his brother, inquired whether there were any jurisdictions that had unsolved homicides that might fit into Jesperson's travel itineraries. Within days, Bukter's office received 16 responses from law enforcement agencies as far as ways New York and Florida and the process of examining unsolved homicides in relation

to Keith in a number of states had begun. Focusing on female homicide victims found along major roadways and near truck stops authorities in Oregon, Nevada and Utah were among the first to begin re-examining some cases. While Jessperson sat in the Clark County, Oregon jail for the murder of Julie Winningham, Clark County being located just across the Columbia River from Portland, Oregon, he began talking to his attorney, Thomas Phalen, about other crimes he'd committed. The conversation began with Phalen, asked Jess, present about the letter to his brother.

Jess, present, began telling his innermost secrets to his attorney and then realized he would be labeled a serial killer after the police linked him to additional killings against his attorney's legal advice to keep his mouth shut about all this. Jess, present, started talking about these other murders to inmates in prison. He loved the attention from these stories. And then one of the inmates reported what he had said to authorities. And after being interrogated again, Keith identified Angela, that woman he killed and then dragged her remains under his truck in Wyoming, two months before kill his girlfriend as

another one of his victims. He told the investigators about a significant detail that left little doubt in their minds that he was for reasons known only to him being truthful with them regarding Angela. He said she had a tattoo of the cartoon character, Tweety Bird, on one of her ankles in which Tweety was making an obscene gesture with one of its hands. Clark County investigators relayed the info to their counterparts, Wyoming and Nebraska, then in September of 95, based on specific and accurate information from Jess Percent, relayed to these investigators

in Nebraska and Nebraska Highway Patrolman found Angela remains or, I'm sorry, found Angela's remains lying near the shoulder of Interstate 80 near Gothenburg, small town of 3,200 residents located near the South Platte River, where it had been, where the remains have been lying in tall grass for several months, badly decomposed, most of us skin decayed, investigators were able to identify her only after examining pelvic X-rays and finding the tattoo of Tweety Bird. Wyoming investigators now really began to build their case

against Jesperson for this murder, since based on Keith's confession, while her body had been dumped into Braska, her murder had occurred in Wyoming. They hoped this conviction would bring Keith the death penalty. Jesperson was charged with Angela's murder. Wyoming prosecutors promptly rejected an offer by his attorney for him to provide more info about her death in exchange for an agreement from Wyoming not to seek the death penalty.

Meanwhile, investigators in Washington, California, and Oregon are working on examining his handwriting to help link him to other murders because of the comments he been making to other inmates and due to the letter he'd written to his brother, the investigators wanted to figure out if Jess person was the same person who had written letters to the Oregonian, claiming to have killed three women in California and to an Oregon. The investigators saw similarities, not only in the handwriting, but in the details of the crimes themselves regarding one of the California victims, the happy face killer wrote that he'd use duct tape to bind her hands and feet, a fact that was never released

to the public. Investigators indeed found duct tape to bind her hands and feet. A fact that was never released to the public. Investigators indeed found duct tape near her body. Similarly, in statements he made to the police, Jess Prson claimed to have duct taped Julie winning him his mouth shut. That detail was not released to the public. Investigators also were examining a happy face killer letter sent to the Colombian newspaper in Vancouver, Washington, just north of Portland, across the river, that had been sent while Keith had been incarcerated. He has smuggled this letter out of jail.

In that letter, Keith again alluded to a desire to be caught so that he would not kill again and stated, I know what I've done has been wrong and I feel sorry for all the victims, or I'm sorry, and I feel sorry for all the families of my victims. I am in fact the happy face killer. I created that man because I wanted to be stopped,

but it is hard just to come out and say it. I have prayed many nights in this cold, dark prison cell for the answer. And God has told me to come clear with it all. Tell the truth about everything. All right, he's talking to God now. I will not be happy until I'm replacing that man. John Sasnowski in the Oregon State Penitentiary for the crime I did. And he goes free. Most people will say that I am a monster. I am not a monster. Just like the movie Jurassic Park, I was created by people. Ha! He's the one really hurt you guys. Oh man, he didn't choose to become a killer. We made him. Me and you. We created this monster. Jess Prism comments about John Sosnovsky and their obvious relevance to the Tonja Bennett case shocked investigators.

And why was Keith doing this? Was it because he was just a really good dude and he just fell bad about the wrong people being imprisoned for his murder? No, of course not. His motive was 100% selfish. He's a sociopath. He didn't care about them. He just knew that if he was extradited to Wyoming, he would face a potential death penalty

for the murder of Angela surprise. However, if he was able to confess to Tonja Bennett's murder and be sentenced to death in Oregon the state where a death sentence has not been carried out since early 60s, he knew that he could have the very least postponed legal actions in Wyoming. He knew that it was likely Oregon would give him life in prison, you know, if he just successfully worked out a plea agreement in this case. According to Jess Perston, at first the police didn't believe him, but then he led them to the location of Tonja's purse and her organ identification card, something that LeVern Pavlenak had not been able to do if you

recall. They couldn't deny now that it appeared very likely that they had put the wrong people behind bars. Jess, percent also indicated that he was willing to plead no contest to the murder of Tonja Bennett to spare investigators in new murder trials, to spare them the cost. If they release LeVernin John, who now had served in more than four years in prison for a crime they did not commit, a crime LeVernin, in my opinion, should now get an even more trouble for. Right, I hate that false accusation thing people do.

You should get into so much fucking trouble for that. Right, like he should get released, John should, and she should have to serve a life sentence, in my opinion, for happily getting somebody else falsely convicted for life sentence. If I was given the chance to vote on a new law that gave way harsher sentences to people who know and leave falsely and died others. Oh, man, I would do it in a second. In the meantime, while Jess person waited to enter his plea for murdering Tonja Bennett and as a state of Wyoming, continue building his case against him for the murder of Angela

Surprise, Jess person continued to claim responsibility for additional murders. All in all, he said he was responsible for at least 160 slanes across the U.S. Jessperson told the media that he was admitting to all these murders because he was bothered by his guilty conscience, which he doesn't have. However, like Henry Lucas before him, Jessperson would later recant most of these confessions and like Henry Lucas, the real reason Keith did this, because he loved the attention.

He was getting. And then when he confessed, he got extra perks. He got better food, less time in his cell, people were hanging on his every word. He loved the attention so much that eventually, this dude will be banned from giving interviews to the press outside of occasional over-the-phone interviews.

You can't do face-to-face interviews with this guy because he gets too fucking giddy and happy. And I love that they, you know, have stopped allowing him to give those because it makes him happy. The more crimes keep confessed to the crazier it's confessions got. This fucking idiot. At one point, Jess Prism told investigators that he was responsible for many of the murders assigned to the Green River killer task force. It would be several years before Gary Ridgeway would be apprehended for these murders that took place primarily in the southwest area of Washington around the Green River. Since many of Jesperson's victims were known prostitutes and strangulation, was his preferred method of murder,

Jesperson naturally looked like a feasible candidate and at least some of these killings. Keith told investigators that he'd ran into the Green River killer by the side of the road after they had each committed unrelated murders and were disposing of their bodies. He actually said with a straight face that they laughed about it and then got some coffee afterwards. To make the story even more absurd, he said that the green river killer looked over some of the jewelry that Keith had taken off of a woman he had killed and then Gary said, we both have killed identical twins.

Yours is a sister to mine. What the fuck, he's such an idiot. Like one serial killer would be disposing of a body, then running to another serial killer doing the same thing, and then the two of them would just, you know, yuck it up. Go grab some coffee. Right? Hey, buddy, put your hands up.

You're under arrest for murder. Putting you away forever, dirtbag. Ha ha ha ha! Ah, JK, I'm just joshing you. Oh, my heck, you should see your flip and face right now. It's hard for the scared, bud. Now, it looks like you're serial killer, huh? Yeah, me too, me too.

Nice disposal site, right? I'm just down the ridge. Great minds think alike, isn't that what they say? The only other person you're gonna run into way out here is another serial killer like me. Too funny. You know, just last week I ran into some dude named Robert Lee Yates. I was dumbing some bodies outside of Spokane after killing some nasty lady who was trying

to take advantage of my good nature. After I've to rape her, you know, I was trying to be an awesome dad and hang out with my three kids, you know, and Spokane after that because I'm pretty amazing. Anyway, you want to grab some coffee and some pancakes? Swap some stories. I mean, you seem like a good, smart, handsome dude who I'm guessing gets a short end of the stick all the time when it comes to nasty manipulative women.

Just like me or just two victims out here. Just bearing the bodies of the women we killed and raped. Ah, investigators, new Keith was full of shit 99% of the time, but they listened to this nonsense because the other one percent of the time he would actually help solve crimes. In October 1995, just before his trial was slated to begin, Keith Jesperson pled guilty to the murder of Julie Ann Winningham before Clark County watched in Superior Court judge,

Robert L. Bobbert Harris. And Judge Bobbert sent him to life in prison. On Thursday, November 2nd, 1995, Jesperism entered a no contest plea before Multnomah County presiding judge Donald Ronald McDonald. Uh, no, Donald H. Launder for the murder of Tonja Bennett. Launder immediately sends Jess Prism to life in prison again, sent him in a 30 year prison term before being eligible for parole. Launder's sense and effect gave Jess Prism what he wanted.

Life in prison to be served in Oregon state, no death penalty. Then there was another organ case involving Jess Prcent, the murder of 23 year old Laurie Ann Pentland. According to the Marion County District Attorney's Office, investigators linked Jess Percent to Pentland's murder through DNA, other forensic evidence after learning he was the happy face killer. He was again sentenced to life in prison in Oregon. The 30 year minimum term before parole eligibility, following his sentence in Washington, he was transferred to Oregon state penitentiary to begin serving the consecutive sentences there. If he somehow were to live and complete his sentences in Oregon, he would be transferred to Washington State

to begin serving another life sentence there. Then on November 27, 1995, Laverne Palinak, John Sivnowski released from prison. Meanwhile, authorities Wyoming continue to pursue a possible death penalty conviction for Jesperson. More than two years later, after considerable legal wrangling, the state of Wyoming finally succeeds in extraditing Jesperson for trial for the murder of Angela surprise. For the next few months, as prosecutors prepare to go to trial, Jesperson taunts authorities threatens to force a costly trial by changing his story regarding the jurisdiction in which

the crime had occurred. He kept flip flopping. Sometimes saying he killed a Wyoming, sometimes saying he thought he'd killed her in Nebraska. I have to go back and forth, which, just presents deliberately misleading statements. A deal has worked out. Just for some agrees to plead guilty to murdering Angela surprise in Wyoming, if and only if Laramie County prosecutors agree to not seek the death penalty. Keith continues to think of Keith and only Keith and not take responsibility for what he's done.

To further illustrate the lack of remorse to dude was still showing after all this in another letter to the press, Keith tries to be funny again. And he writes about offering a self-starter serial killer kit. It writes, this is the offer you have all been dying for. The self-start serial killer kit. Now you can be the only serial killer on your block. Learn from professional serial killer. Get rid of that unwanted family member. Get that job you always wanted by opening up the slot. Everyone will be dying to meet you. You get a full life, uh, you get a full life, they meant to write life sized. You get a full life size. Julie winning him look alike, doll with an extra tough spring back neck.

So you will soon have the strength to squeeze the shit out of anyone. Fuck! Holy tone deaf. Dude, dude, not funny. When you really raped and killed her, no conscience, so dark. After over a decade, or over a decade after going to prison,

in November of 2008. Jesperson's eldest daughter, Melissa G. Moore, appears on the Doctor Phil show. Talk about her dad. Moore wrote a book called Shattered Silence, the untold story of a serial killer's daughter. I bought the Kindle version, used it as one of the sources for today's tale. Melissa Moore talks about how she lived with her father until her parents divorced. She said she began to notice that her dad was different when she was in elementary school. Their house bordered in Apple orchard

and her dad killed various stray cats and gofers that wandered nearby. The one day she watched horrified as he hanged her pet kittens from the family's clothesline and beat them to death. Yeah, I would say that is definitely a sign that your dad is not quite like other dads. Hey Cindy, do you hate it when your dad takes kittens and hangs them on a

clothesline and beats him to death? What? Your dad's never done that. Well, by used to see never. Huh, weird. Maybe you guys are right. Maybe my dad is a bit different. September of 2009 Keith is indicted for the murder of that Jane Doe.

He called Claudia whose body was found in the desert in your blithe, California, 92. He's extradited to Riverside County, California, to face those charges that December. Her remains have never been identified. In January of 2010, it received another life sentence for the murder of this Jane Doe. On March 1, 2014, Lifetime, Arizona Lifetime original movie, the Happy Face Killer starring David Arquette as Keith, yes, for sin. And I haven't seen it because I watched the trailer and it looks fucking horrible. It looks really terrible. Uh, today keys David Arquette, I don't know how he got cast. He does not.

He just can't, yeah, I just can't see him as a scary serial killer. Today Keith continues to be imprisoned at the Oregon State Dependentmentary in Salem, Oregon, where from what I can gather, the now 64-year-old man continues to be the same creep he's always been. A dude who continues to play the victim, no remorse and joy is talking about the detail of his crime. In 2015, investigative journalist, Ju-Ju Chang, no relation to Poodie, play your lunchbox surely.

He interviewed Keith over the phone for a piece on Keith and his daughter, Melissa, for 2020. And at one point, he calmly talks to Juju about how he dragged Angela surprise, the woman he picked up in Spokane, under his truck in 1995, someone Wyoming, and Juju horrified says, it is so gruesome what you're describing. I mean, there's a possibility

that these people's family members might be listening to you describing this. And he says in a slightly irritated tone, I'm sorry it happened. We should never happen. Can we move on? Can we just move on? Yeah, I get it you guys. God, I kill at least eight women. I'm a terrible dude. Yada yada yada. I said like a hundred times. I'm sorry. Why can't we move on? I said, JK, I Realized now the things got out of hand. Why do I always get the sword into the stick?

Why is everyone always out to get me? Why do those women have to make me do what I did? Ugh. And that is all for today's time suck timeline. Good job, soldier. You made it back. Barely. BAM!

BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM! So that's the story of this sick fuck's life. You hated his family, you hated women, he super hated cats. You saw himself as the victim and everything he did, even the murders and rapes he committed. Was his dad too hard on him?

Yeah, it sounds like he got carried away. It was a strap too many times. Definitely a way to end a killing cat's, not a good dad move to push your son to kill little critters, like around the neighborhood. Is it his dad's fault? It became a serial killer. I don't think so. I think there's no one's but Keith's fault.

Was he like we talked about at the beginning of the suck genetically predestined to become a serial killer? No, I don't think he was. You know, he knew what he was doing. He knew it was wrong. He tried to hide the evidence of what he did. He didn't kill anyone until after he was divorced, long after the cat murders of his youth. If we can trust his story, he says he never laid a hand on a woman until he was 34.

If he just had to kill, because of his genes, he would have killed long before. Taking things further, I think most of our lives are largely defined by the consequences of our choices. Some of us are born with much more money than others, much more athletic ability, much better health, more intellectual ability, et cetera. But I think most human beings, excluding those born into like third world poverty or some extreme situation, are born with enough ability and enough freedom of choice to be able

to consistently make good choices, or make consistently bad choices. And either lead a positive, largely comfortable in rewarding life and help the world become a better place, or you know, you can make consistently terrible choices and struggle and live the most you pain and confusion and help bring those down around you and just add to the world's misery. What kind of life are you choosing to lead, right? I referenced Keith's loser mentality earlier,

blaming everyone else for shortcomings. I hope you don't have that, you know, it won't help you, mead sack. I know life can be hard. Some of us have it so much easier than others, but no matter how hard your life is, I really don't think going to the mental place of thinking everyone is out to get you or that you have it harder than everyone else and you just can't catch a break. It's going to ever help your life improve.

I think it will for sure make your life worse. Now before moving on to time, sucker updates. Let's look back at the wasted loser of a life of Keith Hunter, Jesperson, the happy face killer in today's top five takeaways. Time, suck, top five takeaways. Number one, Keith Strangold, at least eight women to death. Six of them died after playing what he called the death game, and he still didn't get the death penalty.

He's hanging out somewhere right now. Number two, how many cats did this son of a bitch kill? Six of them died after playing what he called the death game. And he still didn't get the death penalty. He's hanging out somewhere right now. Number two, how many cats in this son of a bitch killed Jesus? And brutally, and I'm not opposed to killing animals, right? I would have loved to have gotten a deer this year, but I don't want them to suffer. And I'm okay with killing like deer because I eat meat and I would feel like a huge hypocrite

being okay with eating a burger or some bacon, but not being okay with hunting. But getting off on animal suffering, killing creatures, not for food, but for the pleasure it gives you to take life. If killing any kind of animal, an animal that's not tormenting you or causing you harm, fills you with joy. You might want to have your head examined. Also if you're that person, Bo Jangles just told me to tell you to go fuck yourself. Number three, this

psycho, despite being a terrible, terrible person, did do something a lot of well intentioned lawyers have been able to do. He got two people out of jail. The Vern Pavlin-Akker and her boyfriend, John Sosnovsky, served four years for murder he committed, and he got them free. He did so so we could avoid being extra to Wyoming, that's what he was hoping would happen, where he was worried they would have him killed, but still, you know, he did do, I guess, one kind of good thing accidentally in a way. Number four, the Canadian cat choker raped and killed a woman, then strapped her to the bottom of his long haul truck and dragged her remains along the pavement for 12 miles.

I think that detail might stick with me for quite a while. That's, that's a new one. Number five, new info. I don't want Keith, Jess, president's tail new one. Number five, new info. I don't want Keith, Jess, president, Taylor to give you the wrong idea about the trucking industry. It's not all truck stop prostitution and serial killer. Without truckers, our lives would look very different and not in a good way. Here's a few kick ass things you should know about the trucking industry. Trucking makes up the largest portion of the American transportation industry, about 27%.

Truckers moved roughly 10.8 billion tons of freight in 2017 alone. Last year we have the best records for that equates to 30 pounds a year for every man, woman and child in the US. Data shows that trucking is nearly 6% of all full time jobs in the US. That's 7.4 million jobs. Experts say most grocery stores have run out of food in just three days if long haul truckers stop driving. Enjoying that natural cheese Dorito or that maybe that organic Greek yogurt, perhaps some

dragon fruit, maybe some cheese, anything else you didn't grow in your yard or buy from your local farmers market. Well, thank you trucker. And also in order to grow the shit in your yard or to buy that stuff that was growing in the farmers market, I'm betting that stuff was also dependent on some type of goods provided by trucking. To go with employing millions of drivers, the industry as a whole generates around $700 billion in annual revenue.

Were the industry itself a nation, it would have ranked 33rd in the worldwide GDP rankings in 2017. Finally, the average professional long haul trucker logs more than 100,000 miles per year, two to three thousand miles per week to make all that happen. So when you're thinking about how much your commute sucks, shut the fuck up. Think about a trucker. Right? Maybe make you feel good. So there you go.

Trucking makes your economy go. Yeah. Yeah. So just because a happy face killer and some other weirdos have killed a few folk and chose the trucking industry to hide that in, that doesn't mean you should look at the next beard boasting Keg Belly truck driver as a probable murder suspect. Time, suck. Top five takeaway. We did it. Another true crime chapter has been added to the gargantuan book of the suck. Glad the happy face killer stuck behind bars, not happy he's alive.

Doesn't seem fair to me. After everything that dude admitted to doing that, he's still braving. Thanks to the time suck team, Queen of the suck Lindsey comments, high priest to suck, Harmony Vella camp, Reverend Dr. Joe, Horsecock Paisley, the producer, formerly known as MicroPain. Thanks to the bit, Elixir app design crew. Thanks to Steph Cox-Gurvey for stopping by. Thanks also to Kate and Logan at Spicey Club, formerly known as Axis Apparel.

Big thanks to the Scripp Keeper, Zach Flannery, so much good research in this one. Link to both a private Facebook group and Discord group in the episode description. If you want to meet, converse with more time suckers. Next week, our little true crime run continues with David Berkowitz, the infamous and batshit crazy son of Sam. On August 10th, 1977, 24-year-old postal employee David Berkowitz was arrested and charged with being the son of Sam, a serial killer who terrorized New York City for more than a year, killing six people, wounding seven others with a 44 caliber revolver. Because Berkowitz generally targeted attractive young women with long brown hair, hundreds

of young women had their hair cut short and dyed blonde during the time he terrorized the city, the studio dramatically affected hairdresser business in the city. After his arrest, Berkowitz claimed the demons and a black Labrador retriever owned by a neighbor, named Sam, had ordered him to commit the killings. He was even worse at taking responsibility for his crimes than Keith Egor Jessperson. So join us for the Sure to Be entertaining Son of Sam Suck this next Monday. And stay with me right now as we head into today's Time Sucker Updates. Updates, get your time Sucker Updates. Today's first update comes from an awesome veteran meat sack sharing some love for Seymour Haiaha.

Also for the military, Austin Clare writes, thanks from a veteran space lizard. All hail the Suck Master, the knowledge nuke. Oh, makes me want to push that button. The smoothie guy slayer, he whispered to me. Greetings sir from a loyal space lizard veteran of the most badass shit kicking army in the world. Kill them all and let Luciferina sort them out. I wanted to thank you for your continued support for the men and women who have served and

continued to serve this country. You made my wife's and my veterans day. She is a badass Air Force vet named Lindsay. Good name. Even better with your awesome suck on the Seymour, the com- on Seymour, the comi killer. As soon as I heard you were making a Seymour suck, I couldn't wait to hear it. I served a tour each and I rack in Afghanistan, and for a brief time in my infantry career, I was also a sniper.

The reason I was so stoked about this week's suck is that part of my required reading, assigned by my sniper team leader, was a book about, you guessed it, Simeau. Aside from the technological advances, Sensei lived, the field craft of the sniper has changed little over the last century, prompting many modern snipers to study the silent killers of the past. The true purpose of this email, O sucker of subjects, is to formally invite you to support this veteran and his band, Smith Avenue. At our second ever live performance here in beautiful Seattle, would I shim my pants if you came to see us play?

Yes, yes I would. Do I expect you to have time and you're busy as hell scheduled to attend? No, I know you're all over the place with the good work that you do. However, a sniper of the suck, spotter of the truth. If you could find room in an update section to send a shout out to Smith Avenue, playing 9 p.m. one Friday a month at the A1 hop shop at 144th and Greenwood Avenue, you would make me also happy. I would cry tears of 308 shell casins all over the floor of my black hawk.

Our next two shows are November 29th and January 3rd attached to a pick of me in Afghanistan taken by an army combat photographer. So you know I'm not full of shit. And the flyer for our next show designed by me, motherfucker. Thank you for taking the time to read my email, suck master. Apologize for the length. Your loyal space, sister and soldier of the sucks, suck sergeant Austin Claire. Well thank you Austin. Appreciate

what you and your wife have done for our country. The rooftop scan pick is badass. You look pretty fucking impressive there. You look like more like Schwarzenegger than fucking Jack ass I talked about today. Holy shit. I won't be able to make it, but any Seattle area of suckers looking for something to do. The next show Friday, November 29th, head to the A1 hop shop in Seattle. Show starts at eight. And also thanks to all the next show Friday, November 29th, head to the A1, hop shop in Seattle. Show starts at eight. And also thanks to all the military suckers who have given me some challenge coins over the past few years. May my dad swung through the suck dungeon and he teared up a bit, looking at all the gifts

for the military and law enforcement and first responders. He said, quote, that's cool as hell, Danny. That's cool as hell. It is cool as hell, dad. And I'm honored to have received the support of so many of, you know, meat sacks, all of whom are braver than I. Next updates from a kick-ass college sucker, Julia Cox, Julia writes, hello, Dan, he who sucks on high. You might remember my dad and my sister.

They were at your Denver stand-up and live sucks shows in early November. I live in California for college and my sister was kind enough to face time me in so that I could talk to you and Lindsay. I recently started my first year of college and moved from Colorado to Northern California where I don't know anybody and I've never lived before. I've struggled during these first few weeks with feeling lonely, but I've been sucking almost every day and it's been helping me so much. You never failed to make me laugh and my sister and I haven't excused to talk about something until we can see each other again. I bet you'll have some stuff to talk about

with this fucking creep today. Thanks for making my transition just a little bit easier. Hail Nimrod. Praise be to lose if you need a give-boat, jangle some scooby snacks for me. Well, hello, Julia. You know, I talked to Lindsay. And neither one of us have any memory of ever talking to you or meeting your dad or sister. Lindsay thinks you're lying about the whole thing, which I think is a bit unfair, but probably accurate.

So please don't send any emails like that anymore. JK! Casting! Oh my heck. Of course I remember you, Julia, and I remember your dad and sister. I thought it was awesome that they faced time you in for a pick. Sorry the college transition has been rough. Glad time suck and help.

Give it some time at the school. You know, if you still hate it, like a month after getting back from Christmas break, then maybe look into transferring. No point staying somewhere that makes you miserable. A lot of other schools out there. However, until then, make sure you give it a real go. Give it your best effort, to blend in, join a club or two, put yourself with some places

to meet some like-minded folk, maybe post in the Facebook group, see if there's any suckers over there in the area. I hope you find your tribe, finish your freshman, you're strong, hail Nimrod Julia, hail Lucifina. Lucifina says it is college, Don't forget to have some reckless fun. But the data me says, fucking cool, it Lucifina. Be careful, Goddamn it.

There's some creeps out there. Now, Lucifina has me worried about you. Next up, amazing mother sucker and now grandmother sucker, Jesse G. Right? And then I have news. I doubt that you will remember me, but two minutes of your time and everything. My son, happy cried on his 21st birthday. I'm Jesse G, his name is Blake. You called me a kick ass mom.

I couldn't stop hitting replay, ah, as you spoke to my son whom you don't know or owe a thing, you kindly took the time to read a letter from me. You told him to light up the world like some Greek mother fucking fire. You left his both inspired. In son of a bitch, you paid attention. Accel to work.

It's getting mad recognition. He also fell for a beautiful girl and guess what y'all, she is pregnant. I'm gonna be a grandma. I'm so excited, I can't stand it. Just wanted to share this with the entire Suck Dungeon May 22nd new space lizard landing. Love y'all, Jese.

Eee, so happy, yay, I'll be a grandma. So many, so many information points and capital letters in that message. I fucking love it, Jesse G. I'm so happy for you and your family. Hail, Nimrod. I love pics from the sheer joy you felt riding that message. I love hearing about so much good, especially after putting my head in the so much bad space of learning about the happy face killer.

There's a lot of good people in the world. They're not all like him. Thank God. Second to last update coming in from Fantastic Sucker, Jared Libby. Jared wrote this message with the subject line of, please read this spoiler. You may cry a bit. So you've been warned Jared writes. And yes, oh man, had some tears over this, uh, their night. Uh, Jared writes, hi, uh, Dan, the one with too many nicknames, I can't remember. I'm writing you because

I would like to share this with you. Last year, one of my close friends from the military when I was stationed in Washington with him, lost his child, Aiden, who was four at the time, but would now be five to sudden unexplained death and childhood, S U D C. One night when they were putting him down for bed after his bath, he had passed away in the night, and his parents woke to the worst thing I could imagine any parent would find. They're usually full of life, energetic little boy, who was more curious about this world than anyone could ever be, and one of the most caring little boy, who is more curious about this world than anyone could ever be. And one of the most caring little boys who would go out of his way in generosity and compassion

to make you feel better if you're upset or anything else. Once my wife and I heard this news, we had our child who is four now sleep with us the next few months. To top all that off, after we celebrate Aiden's life, his father was threatened to be kicked out of the military all because a corner failed to fill out his paperwork correctly. The corner said that both the parents were weed users when actually only Adeon's mother uses it and even then very seldomly to help her fall asleep and never around her children and only when her husband is home.

It has been a year since we had gotten that horrific news that dropped my wife and I to our knees not knowing how to tell our three-year-old at the time. Sorry for how long this message is, but I just wanted to tell you that we have a charity, or I'm sorry, they have a charity, the family does every year with money out of their own pocket for Christmas and Thanksgiving. Last year, they did 100 Thanksgiving baskets,

full of food for families, they're less fortunate, 50 Christmas baskets, full of toys and food for families, and memory of their son, and what he would have wanted. Man, let's try to power through. This year they've gotten everyone's help with pledging 105 families for Thanksgiving to fill withids. This is all done out of Washington for families. Oh man, this shit is tough. That live with no way of making the holidays for their families. They don't ask for money.

They just want to bring the SUDC to everyone's attention. Please look at the link I have, put in the email, and know that there are people out there that care enough for others. It's Facebook. It's facebook.com, Aiden's Heroes. We're going to put that in today's episode description. Thanks for sending that in Jared.

Thanks for your service. Thanks for sharing what you and your friends have done to let their child live on a memory and in the service of others. Yeah, again, put that link in the episode description. Man, yeah, we, uh, family shared some tears last night talking about this over dinner. You know, please thank your friends on behalf of TimeSuck

for taking such a tragic event, using it as a way to improve the lives of others who would otherwise go without doing the holidays. You're a good meat sack, man. They are a Portland, Oregon area of suckers. If you have time to donate, click the link. You can help give out baskets. You guys are the fucking best. Thanks for being awesome. I'd enjoyed this world of ours. Love how special this community is. And I had to put another message just to special this community is and I had to put another message just to lighten things back up. Cause it's kind of a motion. That's not feel good in my head. Okay. I'm gonna lighten things up. Leave on some laughs. Given to us by time sucker Andy Brown, Andy writes, hey fucker, you got me banned from Target. I typically listen to podcasts when I shop errands or while I shop and run errands.

I just happened to be listening to the church of Satan while I was at Target shopping for pajamas for our youngest son, some quick and vital information. I grew up as part of a traveling circus act. My family trained animals for a relatively successful regional circus, a lot of my important life moments happened while on the road. I learned to ride a bike, learned how to build stuff, and more all while being part of the circus. My first sexual encounter also happened on the road. There was another family that traveled with the circus. They were gymnasts. When I was 15, the oldest daughter was 18, extremely beautiful.

Very flexible. I was very hormonal and excitable. Our RVs were often parked near each other, and the gymnast Holly would often undress in front of an open window that faced my room. She knew I was attracted to her because our stupid leotard outfits did little to conceal my boners. Be gone loose to Fina. Anyways, after a few weeks of teasing me, she asked her, she asked if I would help her practice one night. Most of the adults were gone for the evening, so we had the site almost to ourselves, turns out practicing meant rubbing notty bits against

each other. As things started getting hot and heavy, we realized we weren't totally alone. The guy who played the music, specifically a colliope, began to practice his bit. At about this time, it was go time. If you know what I mean, the rest of that summer, her and I would fuck like rabbits, hail, loose, or fina. For some reason, the sound of the colliope made the climax so much more intense. The summer ended. She went away to college, though it sounds weird. The sound of a colliope has a sexual attachment to me. Back to now, the gymnast recently friend of me on Facebook and my god,

she's even hotter, she's been on my mind a lot lately. So as I'm trying to find the right size pair of PJ Masked Jammies, Masked Jammies, you played the gosh dang colliope with that girl on my mind and the erotic sounds of the colliope in my ears, I began to uncontrollably ejaculate in my cacky pants. I'm talking a full-body convulsion, jizzing,

in the Kitty Pajama section of Target. Needless to say, the store security officer told me that if I ever come back, I will be arrested. So thank you, Daniel. None of that is true. I just wanted to get you back for getting me with what a fool believes during the Revolutionary War Suck.

Keep on sucking. And if you're still reading, can you give a quick shout to my buddy Tyler? Hey Tyler, what's up, you son of a bitch? Take care, suck master. Ah, well thank you, Andy, I needed that. The first time I read it, you did get me. Well played, young Jedi.

Oh my God, I thought you were such a maniac for a bit there. I was like, is man the collivier made you come? I thought it was a bitch a bit much, but I did buy it. Big Islanders to Fena, why do you lot of me be trick like that? But thank you for letting me know that the What a Fool believes got you and for getting that stuck on my head again. Cause it's a great song, makes me smile.

And now let me get some Kaliopea stuck back in your head, right? I mean, you do clearly love the music. I like your listening kiddos. Sorry to say Cotton Candy won't be hitting those stage tonight. She's a bit too itchy to dance for your entertainment this evening the lobster boy gave her a bad case of the crabs That's all for this week mead sacks for fuck's sake don, don't do anything horrific to cats, or dogs, or women.

And maybe don't take the strap to anyone. It seems excessive. And in the words of the bearded lady, I went on a date with just last night. Ha, ha, ha, keep on sucking! Ha, ha, ha! Toss. Hey you! Don't text and drive!

And also, don't fuck kids!