Timesuck with Dan Cummins - 356 - Jerry Brudos: The Shoe Fetish Slayer

Episode Date: July 10, 2023

We got a weird one today! Wow. Jerry Brudos was a serial killer who became completely consumed with sexual fantasies revolving around women's shoes - specifically high heels - and women's undergarments. He wanted women he could control - to dress and pose exactly how he wanted, when he wanted. And if couldn't get them to do that in life, he would use their dead bodies to quench his increasingly kinky desires.  How did he become so singularly focused? Where did his obsession with women's shoes, bras, panties, and more begin?  We take a look at kink, today, and how you can take it way, way too far. Bad Magic Charity of the Month: Donating a TBD amount to the Hill Country Humane Society this month. Their mission is to use their new mobile spay and neuter station to reduce a rising needs to have unwanted pets euthanized. To find out more, please visit:  https://hchstexas.com/Wet Hot Bad Magic Summer Camp tickets are ON SALE!  BadMagicMerch.com Get tour tickets at dancummins.tv Watch the Suck on YouTube: https://youtu.be/oyKjJQVF85UMerch: https://www.badmagicmerch.comDiscord! https://discord.gg/tqzH89vWant 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 happens to be our most current page :)For all merch related questions/problems: [e-mail] (copy and paste)Please rate and subscribe on iTunes and elsewhere and follow the suck on social media!! @timesuckpodcast on IG and http://www.facebook.com/timesuckpodcastWanna become a Space Lizard?  Click here: https://www.patreon.com/timesuckpodcastSign 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

What do you think is the most common sexual fetish? Handcuffs? Spanking? Maybe some blindfolding? Some sensory deprivation? What about roleplay? Sexy police officers? Sexy librarian?

Sexy doctor? Nurse? If you guessed any of those, you would be wrong. It is a hybrid of pony play and scat play pretending to get pooped on by a horse is currently the most common sexual fantasy in the world according to no one. Now, if you're thinking foot, according to data from 2022, then you would be right.

You probably at least heard of a foot fetish. Gen Y viewers, those aged 25 to 34 are the highest viewers of sexualized feet content, higher by over 58% than any other age group. Folks, we love it. Those feet right now, but a foot fetish, a foot fetish, not a recent invention. Some of our earliest modern studies, the human sexuality involved feet, psychoanalysts, segment Freud, once hypothesizing that the feet and toes were penis substitutes. Huh. Okay. And what about a foot fetish is cousin, the shoe fetish. Though

many people agree that shoes can be sexy, a pair of kitten heels on a good looking athletic pair of legs can turn many a person on, people who have a true shoe fetish, though, they get their engines especially revved up. This fetish unsurprisingly often goes hand in hand with the foot fetish. After search query data was released accidentally by AOL way back in 2006, feet and shoes were found to be the most common target of sexual preferences. 64% of the sample population had a preference for an object associated with the body, had a preference for shoes, boots, and other footwear.

So why does this happen? Researchers past in prison who psychoanalyzed human behavior such as Freud have several ideas about how fetishes develop. The overarching theory is that some event occurs during a person's childhood that leads them to develop the fetish. Maybe they get pooped down by a horse. Now they'll have that pony play, skip, I'll stop. Because this event, the person fixates on a certain object during childhood that brings

them pleasure, eventually sexual pleasure. This would certainly be the case for Jerry, the shoe fetish slayer, the lust killer, Brudos. Brudos would confess to killing four women in Oregon in the late 1960s. He would use their dead bodies as dolls, dressing them up and a collection of women's clothing that he'd been stealing since childhood. He loved women's undergarments and he loved their shoes even more. His victims would become his favorite models. He even kept one woman's severed foot as a trophy to model his precious shoes. In the world of serial killers, Bruto stands out as being a particularly driven individual

by a combination of fetishes. A fetish for women's shoes, women's underwear, dressing them like dolls again, taking photographs of them, dressing up like a woman himself, and all this can be traced back to very early in his life, to his mother becoming enraged by his fixation on a pair of women's shoes when he was just five years old. The strange and disturbing story of Jerry Brutos' long journey through fetishism in escalating

pattern of brutality, a secret life that was getting harder and harder to keep secret right now on another true crime serial killing. Why do you get my zapples all riled up mother edition of Time Suck. This is Michael McDonnell and you're listening to Time Suck. Happy Monday made sacks welcome to the Cult of the Curious. Big episode today. Let's get to it, ASM. Dan comes to master sucker guy who is recording this a few weeks before last week's episode comes out who will for sure be getting so much backlash by the time you hear this. Maybe not, but probably. And you are listening to Time Suck. And today's

updates at the end of the show, I included two messages from opposite signs of the spectrum when it comes to fear over an alleged transgender agenda slash accusations to grooming, etc. within the pride movement. So I'll save my thoughts, my rea, for yeah, my thoughts on this matter for my responses to those messages. Hail them, Rod Halleux, Athena, praiseable jangles and glory be to triple M. I'm going to blaze through the opening announcements today get into this crazy tail Quick reminder I'll be working out new stand-up material this summer only for four shows and they're all in Spokane, Washington at Spokane Comedy Club

August 4th and 5th Take it's a Dan Cummins.tv. I'll announce some fall dates next week For the month of July we decided to use the multi-donation to support the Hill Country Humane Society The month of July, we decided to use the multidonation to support the Hill Country Humane Society. Located in rural Texas, they serve a population of people who can hardly afford health care for themselves, let alone a four pets. The shelters are beyond capacity and Texas ranks high. Top one or two, depending on where you look for the stats, in the nation for euthanizing animals.

The Secretary of this Foundation reached out months ago, explaining that one of the best ways the Hill Country Humane Society could help slow the overpopulation of animals in the shelter is to spay in neuter pets. Well, being that they survey low-income area, this is often out of the question for owners. With this donation, we are hoping to ease the burden of pet owners in the area as this organization is in the middle of building a mobile spay, neuter clinic. If you're able to support your local shelters in any way, please do. We'll circle back in the coming weeks to announce the total given to this charity, HCH,

uh, HCHS, Texas, dot com for more info, uh, in the store, we have a ringside T and tank this week, a simple boxing shirt style design for those of you who need a solid shirt to sweat in, show fellow Jim goers, fellow Jim goers that you're a member of the Colt the Curious. I got a slow down my brain right now. By wearing a shirt that in big letters reads Colt of the Curious, head on over to badmagicmarch.com today, pick up your tea or tank, and now let's get into the show. Heading back to the realm of true crime for a very strange story, a story full of panties,

photographs, a terrifying fucking maniac consumed by his sexual desires, and more shoes than you can count. I'll take a few minutes to go over why Jerry never got the notoriety. I would normally assume such an oddball killer would get. Also go over a little info about sexual kinks before we dive into his life and disturbing sexual obsessions. Jerry Brudos is one of True Crimes more disturbing stories that most people outside of True Crime junky circles do not seem to know anything about. Part of this can be attributed to timing. Brudos was arrested in late May of 1969. His capture would be quickly overshadowed by the brutal Tate LaBianca killings by the Manson family in August of 1969.

Though Brutus had killed four women and there was the unusual shoe fetish aspect to his crimes, it simply wasn't the big news story that Manson was. What he did is crazy as it was, still wasn't nearly as intriguing as what Manson did. While a lot of people were able to wrap their heads around a man killing women, they'd seen the lipstick killer in 1945, Ed Geen in 1967, the zodiac killer, the Boston Strangler, the 60s and more. The idea of a man convincing a group of middle-class young women to commit murders was new. It seemed too crazy to be true.

But even though far less people know the name Jerry Brudos compared to say Ted Bundy or John Wayne Gacy, he still had an impact on popular culture. Brudos' legacy would live on in John Waters 1981 movie Polyester, which portrays a disturbed teenager named Dexter Fishpaw with a serial foot stomping fetish. Dude gets off on stomping on women's feet and it's alluded he uses pictures of shoes as a pornographic aid similar to what Brudos did. Brudos would also be part of the inspiration for the serial killer Buffalo Bill in 1991's iconic psychological thriller Silence of the Lambs.

While Buffalo Bill's manner of skinning his victims to make a girl's suit was based on Ed Geen's pathology and his way of luring girls into his van was certainly inspired by Ted Bundy. His habit of wearing his victims clothing and dressing up as a woman himself certainly was influenced by Brutos. The actor who portrayed Brutos, Ted Levine even directly cited Brutos as an inspiration. Levine found Brutos especially memorable because his sexual motivation was so unusual, so niche compared to most killers.

He didn't just gravitate towards women of a certain age or build or prefer women of a certain race. He didn't want to just strangle women and rape them. He wanted to use their corpses to play a perverted form of dress up. He wanted flesh and blood, sex dolls. We could dress and pose exactly how he wanted it as he also dressed himself with their clothes. He wanted to get kinky, real kinky. A kind of kinky almost no one was talking about in the late 60s. Today, thanks to all the info we can access online with all the podcasters and documentarians and porn sites leaving very little to the imagination regarding

what people are into sexually. Thanks to all the research that's been done on sexual fetishes and the kink shaming movement, et cetera. We can somewhat wrap our heads around what this Derbag was in do. People back when he was arrested, well, they had a much harder time. Culturally when Brutus was apprehended America and most of the rest of the world was still very much in the days of sex in general is bad and taboo. Even though the attitude of course did not match up at all to what people were actually doing.

The Kinsey reports data compiled by sex researcher Alfred Kinsey found in 1948 that a full 69% of men in the US had visited prostitutes, almost 70%. 50% of the husbands had been unfaithful to their wives and that 37% of men and 17% of women had at least one homosexual experience. I fucking love this. This is the kind of shit that the sky is falling paranoid moralists either just don't take the time to find out, you know, or employ a lot of cognitive dissonance to ignore when they talk about the moral decay of our culture. No, people have more or less always been doing the same shit they're doing today and always will. The world has not gotten substantially more sinful or immoral since the 60s.

We just talk about shit more openly now. It's not in the shadows as much. We tolerate people behaving publicly. How they have always behaved privately better now. While sex would discuss when Jerry was seeking out outlets for his kink, it was either oblique. As in the case of sitcoms, it showed married couples sleeping in separate beds, so fucking stupid. Or with a deep interest in upholding the gender binary along with associations about men

being dominant and women being submissive. Kink was a very taboo subject to openly discuss. Today most of us probably know that kink is a broad term that refers to a wide variety of consensual, non-traditional, sexual, sensual, and intimate behaviors, such as say to masochism, domination and submission, erotic role-playing fetishism, and erotic forms of discipline. Even scapeplay is included. You literally dirty shit-loving poopbuckers. We probably also know or have a general idea that the term fetish often refers to people

with an erotic or intimate interest in specific non-genital body parts, fabrics, smells, fluids, costumes, other non-human objects. Most people didn't know that though when Jerry was out in the wild. Nobody knew back in the 40s when Jerry Bear was born, the children, even before the age of 10, can develop initial engagement in kinky behaviors, such as wanting to be captured while playing cops and robbers, seeing TV shows with superheroes and peril and feeling especially absorbed by the show as psychological researcher Samuel Hughes says, Hughes identified the second stage of King because exploration with itself involving Kinky people exploring their King or fetish interest with themselves, typically between the ages of five and 14.

This exploration typically occurs via fantasizing, seeking out erotic media, masturbating, and exploring material sensations on their bodies. Typically from 11 to 14, these people also evaluate how their sexual preference is fitted with a larger world. Sometimes marked by worrying that they're fucking freak. They don't fit in, even that there's something quote wrong with them. But Hughes stresses, if all goes to plan, the King's defiance others and learns that they are not alone in their expression of sexuality, and that they're free to explore themselves with others now in a healthy way.

But all of this is a very modern way of thinking about it and talking about it. Nobody knew back in Jerry Brudos' days that if people didn't come to terms with their sexualities, it could lead to internalize shame, depression, anxiety, suicidal ideation, and or as in the case of Brutos, a lot of sexual violence. So people were completely unprepared to deal with Brutos. First in his earliest form as a panty stealing youngster and then as a teenage boy with violent and very kinky sexual impulses. His parents didn't know how to deal with him, psychiatrist didn't know how to deal with

him, even if they would have though, I think he still might have ended up doing a lot of the same shit. Jare Bear was more than kinky. He was fucking sadistic. He lacked any empathy and he fucking hated women. Let's get to know this clown now. Right after today's sponsor break, hitting a little early in the show today because this is the least disruptive place I can put it. Thank you for listening to the sponsors to support our show and now for this week's Creepy Foot Fucker.

Shrap on those boots, soldier. We're marching down a time-suck timeline. [♪ Music playing, drumming, drumming, drumming, drumming, drumming, drumming, drumming, drumming, drumming, drumming, drumming, drumming, drumming, drumming, drumming, drumming, drumming, drumming, drumming, drumming, drumming, drumming, drumming, drumming, drumming, drumming, drumming, drumming, drumming, drumming, drumming, drumming, drumming, drumming, drumming, drumming, drumming, drumming, drumming, drumming, drumming, drumming, drumming, drumming, drumming, drumming, drumming, drumming, drumming, drumming, drumming, drumming, drumming, drumming, drumming, drumming, drumming, drumming, drumming, drumming, drumming, drumming, drumming, drumming, drumming, drumming, drumming, drumming, drumming, drumming, drumming, drumming, drumming, drumming, drumming, drumming, drumming, drumming, drumming, drumming, drumming, drumming, drumming, drumming, drumming, drumming, drumming, drumming, drumming, drumming, drumming, drumming, drumming, drumming, drumming, drumming, drumming, drumming, drumming, drumming, drumming, drumming, drumming, drumming, drumming, drumming, drumming, drumming, drumming, drumming, drumming, drumming, drumming, drumming, drumming, drumming, drumming, drumming, drum line. Jerome Henry Brudos was born a Webster South Dakota in January 21st, 1939. Webster very small town of about 1700 people almost exactly a year before one of America's most famous news anchors Tom Broca was also born a uh... when jerry's born so jerry's born and then uh... not that long after tom fucking broke up born with a they didn't grow up together

no broke up burrito study buddy situation they want to stay up late sleep over talking about why uh... tom's mom's pumps made jerry's fucking dick rock hard or anything uh... jerry would leave the areas of tether so random famous u fighter and WWE superstar Brock Lesnar, also from Webster. A serial killer, a news anchor, and professional MMA fighter. The town's three most well-known residents.

Jerry's parents were what true crime writer Anne Rool described as a hopelessly mismatched couple in her 1991 book The Lust Killer, Big Source for this episode. Eileen Brudos was a larger woman, exact height, weight, never given, who dress neatly and plainly, and never, never wore high heels, according to Cherry. Henry Brudos was a small man, five feet, four inches tall, slender, he also, like a son, would imitate later, bounced from job to job frequently, moved his family

a dozen or so times during his sons growing up years. The family usually lived on a farm, but never anything very profitable. Henry often had to work full-time jobs off the farm to support them. And it was also easily offended. Hostile, if you thought someone was taking advantage of him and quick to react with verbal abuse. He wasn't abusive per se, but also not really emotionally stable. Jair Bear would be the same way.

Whatever his father's faults, Jairie Brudos vastly preferred him to Eileen, whom he hated. And that hate would go both ways. And from Eileen's side, it began the moment Jairie was born. Jairie was an accident, and neither of his parents had wanted another child. His older brother, Larry, was intelligent and calm, didn't give him any trouble. And that was how they wanted to keep things. Eileen, especially, did not want another calm, didn't give him any trouble, and that was how they wanted to keep things. Eileen especially did not want another kid, but if she did have one, she for sure wanted

a girl. Instead, Eileen gave birth to a red-haired blue-eyed second son, a son nothing like Larry, a kid who seemed like a real pain in Eileen's ass, and the abuse started pretty much immediately. As Jerry grew up, his mother railed at him for the most minor accents, while Larry, sweet apple to mama's eye, fucking kiss ass golden boy, Larry! Got away with everything. Larry avoided chores just as much as Jerry did, but their mom always had an excuse for Larry.

Larry was exceptional, he was gifted, he needed the extra time to study. But stupid fucking Jerry didn't have shit going on upstairs. So I wasn't that dumb dopey fuck, at least getting some chores done. Come on Jair Barry, you fucking loser! The father and Larry, both knew that Eileen headed in for Jair. But there was nothing they could do about it. All three males in the family chose a vase of tactics, rather than confrontation when they

came to Eileen who ruled the roost. Mother does his mother pleases, Mother's power will not be denied. Now, Hylene reminds me a bit of a mama camper. The Brutos' moved to Portland, Oregon in 1941, just proud of the US entering World War II and while they lived in Portland, the family experienced a rare period of financial stability. Five-year-old Jerry was allowed to roam freely, and one of his favorite places to visit was the dump, as in a landfill. So while the family was financially stable, they certainly weren't killing it. They weren't rich.

I don't think any rich kids are out regularly playing at the city dump. One day at the dump, a little Jarabar finds a pair of shoes, some women's shoes, but not like the kind Mama wears. Now these are sexy. These are shiny, patent leather high heels with open toes and thin straps around the ankles. Sound fucking hot! I do love how a pair of high heels with open toes and thin straps around the ankles sound fucking hot I do love how a pair of high heels shapes the woman's leg hail of syphena Jerry much too young to really be having any truly sexual thoughts like some and brings them home and at home

Like a lot of little kids do he puts them on trades around the house. I'm using himself and then I lean catches him and she loses her fucking shit She does not have a calm talk with little Jarbar. Doesn't joke around with him, she goes ballistic over these shoes, and not the right call. I remember when Kyler tried on some of Lingey shoes one day when he was, I don't know, six or seven. He was laughing, we were laughing, we didn't snap at him. We let him put on this little fashion show,

if I remember right, we didn't make a big deal out of it because shoes are not a big deal. Fucking shoes. They don't have any inherent good or bad moral values. They're just shit we put on our feet to keep him clean and protected. Any sexuality they convey, you know, is a sexuality we subjectively place on them.

Tyler, you know, moved on, Jerry would not. Mama scolded him severely. Her voice rising to a shriek as she went on and on about how wicked and sinfully was. Shored at him to take the shoes back to the dump and leave them there. You don't understand why she was so mad. Or just what it was that he had done wrong since obviously no one wanted the old shoes anyway. He doesn't take the shoes back. Instead he hides them. When he was discovered again, sachetting around in his forbidden high heels,

mom goes even crazier. Literally burns the shoes and grounds him to his room for days. And this was a big memorable childhood event for him, big turning point. He had never gotten in this much trouble before, never made his mom this mad. Right. This affected his development greatly. His feelings about the shoes were not sexual yet, but the scolding combined with the pleasure he got from the shoes. They're elicit lists, right? How bad how taboo they were. You know, this forbidden fruit and all that now. While the shickets wrapped up in his little mind and produces the first inklings of what will later become a full-blown fetish, two other events around this time would

also contribute to young Jerry's twisted development. Because his mom was abusive to him. He often spend time with the neighborhood woman he liked, a woman who's actually kind to him. And he developed a rich fantasy life around her. This guy, oh man does he have a rich fantasy life? That's what we're getting to later. Uh, he'll pretend that she's, uh, his real mom. But then before he turned six, this woman becomes so sick from diabetes, she can't have any more visitors pretty soon after that. She dies.

And at same year, Jerry's only other friend also dies, a five year old girl suffering from tuberculosis. Then rather than being helped to deal with his emotions and any kind of healthy way, Jerry's emerging abandonment issues come out to play. He's mad at his mom for emotionally abandoning him at birth basically. She never tried to soothe her, nurture him. And then when his two friends die, he blames the universe for taking them away from him. These three formative events, the shoes, the two deaths, all intertwined to produce the main forces that will drive Brudos to kill later on. There was a shame of being abused and being discovered with the shoes. Then the rage of his mom later at all women for making him feel that shame

and there was also an early fixation now on death. Adding violent tendencies to the latter and you get the perfect storm that will become Jerry Brutos or adding violent tendencies to that later. Excuse me. But long before that later violence, Jerry would try another shoe experiment when he was in first grade. My first grade, his family had relocated again now to Riverton, California, where Jerry had a pretty teacher who wore high heels, shoes to class.

Hell yeah. She kept appearing in the classroom to switch into after school, she had to date that night, right? Fucking hell is the thing, hot for teacher. Jerry quickly becomes obsessed with Mrs. Sexy feet So obsessed he steals her high heels and hides them under some blocks in the play area recess So he can take him home later, but then another kid finds them takes him back to the teacher Couple days later Jerry confesses to his teacher that he has he had taken him and she wasn't angry like he worried that she would be

She was more confused than anything just asking you like why on earth would you ever want my shoes? And Jerry is humiliated. He feels like a freak. He turns red, runs away. And again, he finds, you know, he feels shame around high heels. Shame by another woman, at least in his mind. A woman, he had a young child's version of attraction for a crush. And then a year later, Jerry will be embarrassed again.

In a different way, he'll fail second grade, but not because there were too many distracting high-heeled ladies. He was actually a sickly child. He had measles and recurring sore throat to accompany by swollen glands and laryngeitis. He also had several operations on his toes and fingers to treat recurring fungal infections. And he had two operations on his legs for engorged veins. It's fucking porcupine at all kinds of random afflictions. Also often had migraines that blinded him with pain, made him vomit because of the headaches

and because he couldn't read a write school authority study might need glasses. Glasses were prescribed, but they don't help much. His eyes weren't the main problem, his brain probably was. Who knows what brain abnormalities combined with the shoe incidents and a mom who hated him led to him becoming who he became. His headaches will plague Jerry for much of his life. And more than academically, being a fountain of vomit, meant that Jerry's social life was cut off at the knees. When he wasn't kept at home, recovering, he was ostracized at school. One of the gross kids, nobody wanted to sit next to it,

lunch. His outsider and his only fuel his rage. Girls, especially cute girls in particular, want to fuck all to do with his guy. Less and less as he gets older, he was getting so creepy. On one occasion his parents entertained visitors who brought their teenage daughter over. The girl wanted to take a nap, she ended up laying down on Jerry's bed. He creeps in after she falls asleep and he's in grade school at this point still. He's transfixed to see that she's still wearing high heeled shoes. As she sleeps, one of the heels pokes through the loose weave of the blanket, the side is tremendously erotic to young pre-pre-pre-best and Jerry. Now he wants her shoes, he wants some so bad he sneaks up on her and

she continues to sleep, tries to delicately pry them off her feet. And when that wakes her up, of course, as one would, she freaks the fuck out. Yelded him, calling him God knows what I'm sure, calling him like a little freak. Get away from you weirdo, you creep. He runs out of the room, humiliated again. More shame, associated with high heels, another woman, making him feel like a freak. Right? Just for wanting to sniff and lick and wear their shoes. Why does no one understand me? Why must I feel so alone? him feel like a freak, just for wanting to sniff and lick and wear their shoes.

Why does no one understand me? Why must I feel so alone? Why does my wiener love heal so much?" Jerry will later say that at this point, he wasn't having any explicitly sexual thoughts, just knew that the shoes gave him a funny feeling. And he knew based on how his mom talked to him that he wasn't supposed to have that feeling, that he was supposed to be ashamed of it, but he wasn't ashamed. He was excited.

The secrecy, the tabooness of it all made it all the more thrilling. Around the time Jerry hits puberty roughly 1950, Jerry and the family move again to Grands Pass, Oregon, located about 60 miles north of the California border. Their new neighbors have a house full of daughters. Oh shit! And Jerry and one of their brothers, often sneaks into the girls' bedrooms to play with her clothing.

Jerry finds out he especially likes playing with her bras, panties and girdles. All those complicated harnesses biting into his flesh, really exciting. His fixation on women's shoes now expands to women's undergarments. 1952, just before Jerry turns 13, the Brutosis move again to Wallace pond near Salem, the organ state capital. Jerry's dad makes another attempted farming there. Jerry's brother Larry was by this time 16 in the throes of his own developing sexuality and his sexuality was much more traditional,

conventional. He was an adirty footfucker. He wasn't dreaming of using tow jam for Lou and a stiletto for a butt plug. He didn't want to have panties jammed his mouth while he was a bra strap as a cock ring came into an old pair of boots. I don't know what is exact fantasy for this time. He collected pinup pictures his brother did Larry and he drew sexy illustrations of Lois Lane, nude, wearing high heels, hairless with Vina. Larry kept these drawings in a box and then one day Jerry finds a box, picks the lock and he spends hours Looking at the pictures and maybe beating off Concy

But then Mama Eileen catches him in the act Mother no mother. Why do you punish me for gurgling off to brother sex gribbles? Jerry doesn't even bother to stand up for himself except the punishment. He's given He's a punished Larry the artist is not punished He didn't think his mom would have believed him. If he told her that Larry drew these pictures, right? He's the black sheep. Larry's the golden child. Now around 1955. Jerry has a 16 and he has his first wet dream. Eileen finds his stain sheets and scolds him severely. The nocturnal ejaculation and startled him too. And he wondered if he was, you know, someone's wrong with him. He had something that, you know, he should be able to control.

His mom makes him wash his com sheets by hand. And then he has to sleep without sheets the next night because he only had one set. And the offending sheets are hanging damp on the clothesline. His humiliation has made public more shame, more excited by that shame and more rage directed towards his mom, who to be fair to Jair Bear does sound like a fucking terrible mother. And now Jerry starts thinking about revenge, specifically revenge on women. He wasn't emotionally willing to direct that rage probably because it was a couple of lust at mama. So he directs it at all other women.

Now he starts fantasizing about doing terrible things to women who in rage and arouse him. He also starts putting together real dark and super fucking weird plan. He works for days digging a hidden tunnel into the side of a hill in the family farm. And his plan is to get a girl, get her into this tunnel, somehow trapper there, not let her out. Oh, and also make her his tunnel sex life. He'll do anything he wants. I picture him storyboard and all this. A bunch of stick figures drawn into little panels, word bubbles. Over one stick figure, the word Jerry has an arrow pointing down to one figure, another stick figure with like huge boobs, bunch of pubic hair, massive high heels, you know, Brenda, some shit arrow pointing down. First panel he sees Brenda at school.

I want to check out my gold mine Brenda. Sure, Next panel is walking her into the tunnel. Where's the gold Jerry? You're the gold Brenda third panel and Brenda's chain to a fucking tunnel wallway in lingerie play with my penis Brenda Yes, Jerry. I would love to I sure love being your sex life and then following that panel probably some really horrific shit You know involving a lot of blood and pain based on who he becomes He can picture his tunnel sex dungeon so clearly, but he just didn't know what he wanted the captive girl to do. He still didn't know enough about sex to understand exactly what intercourse was. He only knew that the thought of a captive woman begging for mercy arouses him.

And so that's not good. At the same time, Jerry began to steal shoes and undergarments from neighbors' clotheslines. That fucking panty swiper accumulated quite a little stash that he studied. And I'm sure sniffed a whole bunch, probably if not definitely licked, and kissed and such. Those panties in high heels saw all kinds of action, I'm sure. He stole dirty panties, his favorites, right? He was in laundry baskets of houses, he was able to get into, things to friends and whatnot.

And he kept all the shit carefully away from my lane, from mama. He didn't want to get caught caught by naughty angry mama again. He also never stole mama's things. Didn't wanna get caught. Also didn't wanna fantasize about fucking mama. Not deviant in that way at least. And, you know, she didn't have any sex issues. You know, he's not gonna,

he's not gonna jerk off to some old mama velcro sneakers like a fucking loser. Come on. Before Jerry was ever caught, before he ever lured some poor girl into his hillside fuck tunnel, the family moved again. This time to a bit north of Corvallis, close to Oregon State University,

in the summer of 55, another farm. By the time the family moves to this farm, Jerry is well on his way to adulthood in college, to a wellness study of electronics. Jerry was actually skilled in the same area, but his accomplishments always paled in comparison to fucking golden boys. Jerry was almost 17 when his family moved near Corvallis.

He had still never seen a naked woman, but he continues to steal their clothing. At home in the privacy of his own room, he'll take his treasures from their hiding spot, and you know, smell, kiss, fondle, et cetera. He did for sure use the clothing for masturbation and corralis by his admission, but he failed to achieve orgasm. The only ejaculation he had ever experienced to date came from wet dreams.

And that reason is fucking weird to me. What's going on there? Did he instinctively just not know how to beat off? Like did the family not have lotion laying around? Did he have severe arthritis in his hands? And he didn't have the grip strength needed to jerk to climax. Did he have a very skinny dick

and he had to hold it with like one finger and his thumb, you know, pinky out, not able really to squeeze it without breaking his fragile little pocketworm? So many questions I don't have or want answers to. A lack of coming didn't stop his pennyy rates. Outside Corvallis, he starts to do more than swipe panties and heels. In the late summer of 1955, Jerry Brudos creeps into a neighbor's house to steal some undergarments belonging to an 18-year-old girl who lived there, but stealing clothing alone wasn't doing a form anymore. Jerry

thinks it would be so much better if he could have pictures of a real girl memento Cikake. So he formulates another complicated scheme, a plan that was both ridiculous and terrifying. He later approaches the girl who's linger-aid stolen, told her that he could help her get her things back. He bragged her about a secret. He can work with the police on the case, for panties and stuff being stolen.

That's what he tells her. There's nobody with respect to the local neighborhood fucking teenager. He's gonna be working with the cops. You know, on this, the girl seems on the fence when it comes to believing his really stupid story, but she does want the things he had stolen back. You know, she'd bought him with her own money and Jerry did seem harmless to her.

So she goes over to his house one night when everyone else in the family is out. This is by Jerry's design, of course. When he hears her knock on the door, he calls to her from upstairs. Up here, come on up. She edges up the shadowy staircase to the old farmhouse, following the sound of his voice, his room is dim, she can't find Jerry. Suddenly a tall figure wearing a mask jumps out at her and waving a large knife.

Take off your clothes, y'all. Cut you. The voice behind the mask says, do it. He presses the knife against her throat as she removes her clothing. He had tried to disguise his voice a little bit, but she instantly knows who is behind the mask. She also thinks she's an idiot for agreeing to come over in the first place. She expects him to assault her, to rape her, but instead, he takes out a cheap camera with a flash attachment. He directs her how to pose, takes some shots when she's naked, then takes more when she's partially clothed.

She does what he asks, he models some shoes, terrified. He might still have more in mind than photographs. He moves quickly, given her orders to move this way, bend that way, turn over here, spread your legs, etc. When the role of film is finished, the mask figure now just walks on out of Jerry Briell's bedroom. His victim throws on the rest of her clothes frantically and she is heading towards the stairs when Jerry now without a mask but wearing the same fucking clothes walks back towards the bedroom and is breathing heavily and he asks are you okay? I was out in the barn and somebody came along I couldn't see who it was and they just locked me in. I just managed to break out. Did you see everyone? Do you see anyone around here? And she doesn't

reply. She just runs home. Jerry thinks he's actually fooled her. Something was clearly wrong with this guy. Beyond being just the fucking bane of his mom's existence. His brain did not work right. Imagine thinking that you could get away with robbing or raping or whatnot just by throwing on a mask,

doing what you want to do, then run off for a fucking few seconds, and then just run back in without the mask, just asking what happened. Wearing the same clothes, this feels more like a, I think you should leave sketch than it does in real life. Well, Jerry develops the pictures and in a way now gets to spend as much time with the naked woman as he wants. He later says that his first impression of a nude female was that quote she looked awful funny.

Fair. You know, but China's they do look kind of funny up close. They look like they belong in a sci-fi flick. Some kind of lovecraftian creature. I still love those monsters. Jerry took great pleasure and looking at his photographs while he handled his subject stolen pennies and bras and corporate at her was prisoner into some new sexual fantasies. But he was still only coming in his sleep. He settled his subject stolen panties and bras, incorporated her as prisoner into some new sexual fantasies, but he was still only coming in his sleep. I wonder if consciously he felt too much shame and anxiety about sex to be able to finish. Maybe couldn't quite block out the thought of mama coming in and catching him and screaming and j- J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J-J- Later this first victim will tell the police. I knew who it was all the time. I wasn't fooled by that mask in his phoney story about being locked in the barn, but I

was afraid of him. I was scared if I told he would find out and he would kill me. Eight months later, in the spring of 1956, those pictures he took start getting old. Just like the stolen clothing hat, Jerry needs a new captive. While most people his age are dating and experimenting, channeling their sexualities and do healthy peer relationships, Jerry cannot find a girlfriend. He's big and clumsy, has acne that glows red when he blushes, his voice is a croak, and you know, he wants to trap his classmates

in a fucking hill tunnel and rape him, and that kind of vibe is off-putting to most. His weird, creepy behavior truly did repel most girls. He was a odd fucking duck. Nevertheless, on a warm April evening in 1956, a 17-year-old Jerry Brutos manages to lure a 17-year-old girl into his car. She had only accepted a short ride, but once she was in, this screwball begins to talk to her like they're dating, like they've been together a while.

She initially, she's so just shocked by this, she just stares at him baffled. Her bewilderment soon turns to panic when he stares straight ahead, drives faster, farther and farther away from the main roads, finally pulls over into an overgrown driveway and parks that have deserted farmhouse. She looks around, sees that there are miles from other houses from anyone who might come, helper if she screams,

and she's terrified. Without a word, Jerry Brutose now drags her from his car begins to beat her. His fists rain down on her face and breasts. She starts bleeding. She screams as a huge strange boy continues to pummel her. He pulls at her clothing, ordering her to strip for him. He wants to see her naked. He says gasping. She twists and kicks and tries to get away. She knows she's going to be dead if she doesn't. Fortunately, a couple from a farm down the road happened to be driving by just at that moment. The husband wrenches the steering wheel quickly turns into the driveway. They see the old car parked

there. The tall, heavy young man bent over someone on the ground. She fell out of the car. He explained reaching out to help the sobbing girl up now. She just hysterical because it scared her. The girl shakes her head violently, trying to speak through a swollen mouth. The couple looks on doubtfully, the boy shrugs his shoulders, and now Jerry changes the story and says, well actually what happened was that some weirdo attacked her. I came driving by and I stopped to help.

She was fighting him off when I came up and he took off through the fields. The couple insists now on taking the girl and Jerry back to their house. They don't fucking believe him. He's a lunatic and they call the organ state police Faced with the police Jerry admits that he had beaten the girl himself He said he just wanted to frighten her enough to make her take off her clothes so he could take pictures

He denies ever doing such a thing before but pretty quickly police find his camera In the trunk of his car they recognize premeditation before the attack. His victim meanwhile was treated in the local ER and found to have extensive bruises and a badly broken nose. Investigators in search Jerry's room with the farm and Dallas Oregon, a half hour north of Corvallis and his stash of women's clothing and shoes they find photographs pictures of women's undergarments and shoes photos photos of a new girl. Mama is so fucking pissed. Jerry insists the pictures had been taken by another boy and that he'd only developed them.

And the cops don't believe his bullshit. Brutose is arrested for assault and battery. He's referred to Pope County juvenile department, which begins background investigation. Jerry's encounter with the girl he'd forced to take pictures earlier will now be discovered by the police who realize this is not their average delinquent case. And he's committed to Oregon State Hospital for psychiatric evaluation and treatment in the spring of 1956. Bruno seemed humbled and meek as he talked to a procession of psychiatrists who had no

idea what to do with this guy. He told him he was a sophomore in high school who liked sports but didn't like rough competition. He said I don't like to fight or to push people around or to be pushed around. So I don't go out for any of the teams. Well, he seemed pretty violent when you got arrested. He gave his hobbies, his working with radio, his electronics, mechanics, and photography. He belonged to 4H, Boy Scouts, Farmers Union. He didn't seem like a sadistic criminal in so many ways.

He said he suffered from nocturnal emissions, wet dreams, bed over two months. Said he tried to lean a clean life, didn't drink, didn't smoke, and had never had a sexual relationship with a girl. I mean, that last one, I don't think that was his choice. Doctors were a little puzzled, searching for a diagnosis. One psychiatrist wrote on April 16th, 1956, the boy does not appear to be grossly mentally ill.

He comes shily into the interview situation and sits down in dejected fashion to talk with great embarrassment about his difficulty. It is difficult for him to form any relationship with the examining physician, although he does warm up slightly to the course of the interview. He is precisely oriented in all spheres, speed trade, thought rate, and psychomotor activities are within normal limits. He tends to be evasive on a basis of his acute embarrassment and his somewhat rambling and verbose in trying to tell his story.

There is no evidence of suicide, homicide, or destructive urges. He feels that he sometimes has trouble controlling his temper, but that it has never got him into trouble except on this last occasion. When he maintains that he cannot remember too clearly, exactly what he did, but was told that the girl received a broken nose. Did he have trouble remembering or was he just wary to share what he remembered and how good what he did made him feel? The report continued, there is no evidence of hallucinations, delusions or illusions. He denies any sense of fear except over what is going to happen to him.

And he says he has some sense of guilt over having gotten into trouble, but does not particularly feel guilty over having taken the photographs. That's telling, right? No guilt over holding a knife, two girls throats making her think that if she doesn't strip and allow nude photos to be taken, she's going to be killed. Psychiatrist Warren is good at identifying sexually statistics sociopaths back then. And the diagnosis of Jerry's problem was adjustment reaction of adolescents with sexual deviation fetishism. Basically, he'll grow out of it. He'll be fine. And the doctor's minds, Jerry, could someday lead a somewhat normal

life. During the day, despite what he had just done, he was soon allowed to attend high school at North Salem High. At this school, Jerry was a loner. Nobody from his time there interviewed later will remember much about him. All anyone in North Salem High knew was that he never came to the football basketball games and never showed up with the dances. At the mental hospital where he slept each night, which nobody in his high school knew about, Jerry talked often with the doctors. A second diagnosis was borderline schizophrenic reaction, which was in his high school knew about, Jerry talked often with the doctors.

A second diagnosis was borderline schizophrenic reaction, which was a catch all diagnosis of this era for people who exhibited extremely socially deviant behavior. He was at the hospital for eight months. Henry and Eileen were adamant. They did not want him home until he was cured of whatever weird shit ailed him. It doesn't seem as if they ever visited too ashamed, which doesn't help it. 18 year old Jerry will be home before the year is up

in the early spring of 1957. In the end, the Stafford Oregon State Hospital determined that Jerry Brudos was almost normal. He probably wouldn't keep stealing panties and shoes and putting knives to him in throats or beating the fuck out of women in order to force them to give him jerk off photos. That's probably behind him now.

I thought it was a bit of a sure, certainly, overly shy, given to tall tales, but not particularly dangerous. I'll tell that to the two girls. He's a tax already. When he leaves the hospital, he's advised to quote, grow up. I'm sure that helped a lot. I'm sure he really took that to the heart to heart, you know, I'm just, oh, that's why I ended up here.

I hadn't grown up yet. Got it. Thanks. I'm all good now, doctors. Back in Corvallis, Jerry Returnas, who is original high school. There are 202 students in his graduating class. He enrolls in audio, visual, and stage craft courses for his electives. His goal is to obtain an FCC license so he can be employed at a radio or TV station.

In fact, he was quite adept at electronics, skilled at electrical wiring, and a good backyard mechanic. He graduated 142nd in the class of 202 with a grade point average at 2.1, just barely above a C average. Following high school, excuse me, for almost two years, he'll attend Oregon State University, several months there, then Salem Technical Vocational School for several months, and then dabble with classes at a few other schools to rest that time. Then on March 9, 1959, now 20-year-old Jerry joins the US Army. He was sent to Fort Ord, California, subsequently to Fort Gordon, Georgia, for basic and advanced training in the signal corps.

He eventually achieved the rank of E2 with his skill and interest in communication and electronics. The army might have been the perfect choice for him, but he still had his obsessions. He was dishonorably discharged. For first, repeatedly fucking his fellow soldiers boots, then jerking off onto the officer's socks. He just could not stop thinking about shoes and feet. Women's and men's now. And soon he'll start to include cat and dog paws. No, he does get in trouble though for something

very weird, actually weirder than what I just said. He became convinced that a Korean girl had come into the barracks one night and crawled into his bunk and tried to seduce him. He would later say, I didn't want her and I came up fighting and beat her badly. This dream woman returned on several occasions and Jerry starts to wonder why none of his barracks, barrack mates or tease him about it. You know, then she decides, oh, there is no real woman. She's just a dream. Takes him a lot of fear this out. No one complained to the noise that accompanied his beatings of this woman.

No one even notices when she comes in at night to tease and fondle him. Jerry is now worried that he hates this dream woman so much he might really beat and kill her somehow, even though she's a dream woman, but maybe one time she'll be real and he'll kill her. And he goes to the army chaplain and he tells him he's worried about killing a nightmare woman. And the chaplain refers into Captain Theodore J. Barry, staff psychiatrist, and Dr. Barry quickly determines that Jerry is fucking back shit crazy.

He labels Jerry's being not fit for the service because of his bizarre obsessions and recommends discharge. October 15th, 1959, just over seven months after signing up, Jerry is discharged. He leaves the military disappointed and wondering why the army would let him go over such a silly little minor thing. He just wanted someone to help him not kill the imaginary Korean nightmare woman who kept sneaking into his bed and molesting him in his dreams. Is that so much to ask? He's 20 now, he has no life plan, he returns to Corvallus, his parents are

living in a in town now and he moves into their two bedroom house. He's allowed to live in the second bedroom but then Golden Boy comes home. Larry comes home from college and is always Larry comes first. Now Golden Boy is given the extra bedroom and cherry. How come your crazy eyes couldn't even stay in the army for a year is relegated to the fucking shed. They have a shed. They have a shed on the property and they put this weirdo out in the shed. He covers the windows so no one can peer in at it. Peer in at him. And as he would later say, because I wanted to keep out the light. So he's in a dark place now, literally and figuratively, and filled with rage towards Mama.

Making it worse, both his dad and brother are telling him to stop trying so hard to get Mama to like him. They're telling that she's just never gonna like you. I know that's fucking sad, but with this guy, sorry, he's not laughing at someone's shit. So he stays away from home as much as possible, only returning to his reject shack infrequently. One evening, Jerry goes over to Salem on an errand. He spots a pretty young woman walking to the telephone office. She's wanted to bright

red outfit. He can't take his eyes off her. He's fall serous. He's excited by her scarlet clothing. She didn't realize he was just behind her. She turned into the doorway in an apartment house. Only when she was in the dim deserted foyer that she hear the soft foot was just behind her as she turned into the doorway in an apartment house. Only when she was in the dim, deserted foyer, did she hear the soft footfall right behind her. She turns around frightened, she opens her mouth to speak before she can utter a sound Jerry simply closes his hands around her neck,

chokes her until she falls to the floor, semi-conscious. He looks down at her, line helpless there, debates what he should do next, and decides to steal her shoes. Takes her shoes off and then runs off with them. How upset was that woman over being attacked? But also, how lucky did she feel when after likely assuming this creep was going to rape her or worse, he takes her shoes and just bounces.

He would soon do this again in Portland choking another woman. This one fights back harder and Jerry only makes off with one of her shoes. This guy is so fucking unbelievably nuts. Now back in his widest mama make me sleep in a shed! Shack, he sleeps with these stolen shoes. Like this point is life, he literally is cuddled up in his shed bed with three shoes. And he later says his trophy is making him feel stronger when he has to deal with mother.

No one can hurt me for as long as I have my strong boy shoes, not even Mama. Nick wants you for luck. Rub your balls on the second shoe for love and sniff all three for strengths. I've never felt so shabby for my shed. But even though things at home are bad and the secret life is becoming violent and twisted. Jerry is also somewhat functioning as a contributing member of society somehow. He obtains his FCC license and with it, he gets a job as an operating engineer

at a Corvallis radio station, gives him a modicum of self-esteem and he seems at least outwardly to be less of a loner. He not only has a job, he has a skilled job, something few men can qualify for. He bullshits with the station employees, accept him, probably doesn't talk about sleep with shoes in the shed. You know, and uh, these is big six foot 180 pound guy who seems to know what he's doing. And you know, he's well liked, liked enough. While

Jerry is proud of his job, there is something he wants much more than gainful employment though to finally lose his virginity. He's still never had a romantic relationship with the woman on any level. He's a virgin still. He longed to bring a sexy lady back to his fucking shoe fuck shit. He wants a woman who will be totally committed to him, someone who will never turn him down for sex, who will always wear the right shoes. And then he can keep her to himself far away from the rest

of the world. And he'll meet this woman when he's almost 23 in late 1961. How he meets her? Kind of odd. Of course it is with this guy. There was a young boy who came into the station to watch Jerry work at his control panel Some kid who would bugging with questions, you know lots of constant visits One day Jerry asked the boy if he knew any girls that Jerry could date and the boy introduces him to 17 year old Darcy Metzler

Pretty young woman with thick dark hair quiet and shy, but not unpopular Dated boys frequently was excited to get out from under the thumb of her strict German father When the boy brought Jerry to her house and introduced him for the first time, she was not impressed. In fact, she didn't like him. His clothes were neither neat nor stylish. Her first view of him was of an average looking odd man and rumpled paint splattered pants. She thought that he should have dressed up a little bit when he was meeting her for the first time.

He also had thinning blonde red hair, bit of a double chin, certainly not as attractive as the guy she usually dated, but he did ask her to go swimming and she loved to go swimming. So she said, yes, that's all it took. For some reason, perhaps because she was so shy herself, Darcy didn't threaten Jerry or make him feel angry. She laughed at his jokes. That made him feel good.

He was full of fun and full of jokes she would later recall. I was so shy that I couldn't even get up in school to recite our answer questions, and he seemed so confident. Right, confidence does go a long ways when it comes to attractiveness. Jerry was also six years older, had a job, that impressed her, and since she gave him that admiration

and intention, he wanted, he was more confident than ever. He pulled out chairs for her, opened doors, bought her small gifts and flowers, put her on a pedestal, and she liked that. And there was one last thing she really liked about him. Her parents did not approve. So they started a relationship and then they fucked. Not sure if they fucked in the shed or not, I hope so.

Jerry never wants her to leave him now because her parents are adamantly opposed to Jerry. The two lovers decide that if she were to become pregnant, they would be allowed to get married. Great decision making. Darcy gets pregnant pretty much instantly. Jerry bears potent and they marry within six weeks. Darcy's thrilled. Jerry's thrilled too. And part he would later say he's thrilled because even though he had introduced Darcy to his fucking Golden Boy brother Larry, she didn't even leave him for him. Ha ha. He was shocked by that. Guys so sad. The new couple's daughter, Megan, is born to follow in year 1962.

Jerry's father, Henry, also dies this year at the age of 65. If Jerry was upset about that, he never said anything. Made no mention of it, in interviews. I didn't hate his father, like he hated his mom. He also didn't seem to really care about him. The first three years of family life for Jerry, Darcy, little Megan, seemed to be pretty happy once, partially because Darcy did not know yet about Jerry's secret life, maybe mostly because of that. Jerry was able to find a series of jobs easily enough, although he couldn't seem to hold on to one. That was no concern though to Darcy because he always found another.

Also spent a great deal of money on presence for her on holidays and anniversaries continue to be kind and considerate. She was so busy with the baby that it took her a long time to realize she also was becoming a prisoner in her own home. And she didn't know that. You know, and she didn't know that when Jerry slipped away for random hours, he wasn't hanging out with guy friends or running errands or working like he said. He was prowling around stealing women's underwear from clotheslines and shoes from fucking who knows where sneaking into some houses when he can, you know, then stash in the stuff back home in the garage and jerking off to it. She didn't know her husband had some peculiar

sexual expectations. His first was that they needed to be naked all the time when they were home alone, something which they would continue to do until Megan became a toddler and then Darcy started to refuse. Jerry also insists on taking lots of pictures of Darcy when she was nude. She didn't mind the black and white shots because she could, you know, he could develop those on his own, but she didn't like the color shots that he had to develop commercially. But Jerry said, don't even worry about it. He explained that if he took the first and last slides in a series of pleasant scenery, in a series of, you know, images of pleasant scenery or something innocuous, nobody would

look at the rest, which is not true. And he said, big labs, you know, they had too much going on to look at every single picture. She relented, but didn't like it. Jerry set up all kind of photo shoots with his teenage bride. He directs a naked darshe to ride on Megan's tricycle for one shoot. It's a little weird. She writes towards him for some shots, away from him for some others, or butt hanging over the tiny seat, or boobs draped over the handlebars.

When she saw these finished prints, she went, creped her out, she begged him to rip up the pictures, she promised he would, but he doesn't. Some of her husband's requests were more bizarre. Jerry would have Darcy posed, sitting on the floor with a nylon pulled over her face so that her features were distorted into a grotesque mask and as always, she was nude. Some of the pictures featured Darcy wearing nothing but spike heel black pat and leather shoes. Darcy had no idea that these pictures would later become police evidence. Even when they weren't taking pictures,

Jerry wanted Darcy to wear high heels all the time. Not just when they went out, but like even when she did housework. That made her back hurt, aggravated her bad knees. She tried to explain that to Jerry, but he didn't care. And then when she would get upset about, I don't know whether she was all the time, heated her bad knees. She tried to explain that to Jerry, but he didn't care. And when she would get upset about, I don't want to wear the shoes all the time, he would just get depressed. You know, it was wear heels all the time or live with Jerry.

I bet you want to send me out in the shed like mommy did. Sad boy. Darcy was Jerry's living fantasy. The girl he wanted to trap in that secret tunnel all those years ago. The girl he could do whatever he wanted to in his mind. And Darcy went along with all this for a few years. Her father had been dominant. Now her husband was dominant. All right. The pattern repeats. She was also she'll say years later, a little afraid of Jerry, even though she couldn't put a finger on why. Mostly though, early in the marriage, she was happy.

But then as the years passed, things seemed less happy. And Jerry wouldn't pay attention to their daughter. If she tried to crawl into his lap or kiss him, he would literally push her away. Darsie would wonder if he resented Megan because she took up so much of Darsie's time. Small things to him, like that, seemed like huge acts of betrayal. You know, like when she said she wouldn't dress up fancy all the time because wearing heels,

you know, made her fucking back hurt. Or when she didn't want to go out dancing because she was exhausted from chasing around Megan all day. He would get so upset. Whenever she denied him anything, even a small thing he would fall into a depression, sometimes even drive off to somewhere for two or three days. And when he returned, wouldn't tell her where he'd been established in a nice pattern here, getting his wife used to not knowing what he's up to for long chunks of time.

A pattern that will make assaulting and killing other women easier. And she puts up with this shit because divorce was much more taboo back in the 60s and now. And it was harder for a single mom to get a job and support a child. And she's naive. She doesn't know what a healthy marriage is supposed to look like. Darcy was often too tired to fulfill Jerry's constant fantasies because she was exhausted from moving all the time as well. The Brutosis moved from one rented home to another 20 houses or more, and they're seven years together from From Corvallis to Portland, back again, then for a while to sail them, you know, different neighborhoods, moving every four or so months on average, but a nightmare. His parents moved a lot, and now Jerry is moving all the time, even more.

In 1965, 26-year-old Jerry has a job at an electronics firm, excuse me, in West Salem working as a technician. His employer later said he found him to be a Casper milk toast kind of guy. And that's the name of a character from a comic strip called the timid soul. Casper was pathetic, weak with a nervous stomach. The guy who drew him, H.C. Webster, described him

as the man who speaks softly and gets hit with a big stick. Jerry's boss also said that he was the most brilliant electronically oriented mind I've ever seen. There wasn't anything he didn't know about electricity and circuitry. Bruego's worked at his company for months. He went fishing with his boss, never showed any signs of a temper,

was placid, amenable to suggestion, also never really applied himself, it was never considered for promotion. There was another thing about Jerry at work. Never discussed women. A solid family man, at least appeared so. Not even, you know, never even told Jordy jokes. He left work after a few months,

but then came back to visit after a year. Now tells the company that he had enlisted in the Navy when he was gone. They've been injured in the explosion of a shell aboard a ship. So he's that guy now, right? Making up tales of being a badass to impress others. Nothing is over.

He just don't turn it off. He said to his buddies, died in the explosion and that he had spent a year in a naval hospital, his injury, so severe, he'd become eligible for a service pension. And all of this, of course, is just 100% made up. As far as boss thought the story sounded fishy, but didn't really care.

So what if Jerry told tall tales, he was still good with electricity. He heading in 1976, Jerry is still kind of keeping the shit together. He makes up weird stories, drives his wife crazy with constant sexual demands. He's still stealing shoes and panties, but he hasn't choked any women and taken their shoes in a few years. And he's doing all right and work at work. But then a series of events this year furthers his spiral into becoming a monster. He starts having migraines again. And they were accelerating both in number and magnitude. He said later he was experiencing what he called blackouts where he would lose track of time. Also in 1967 Darcy gets pregnant again. Even though he hadn't seemed to excited to be a dad, now Jerry is enthusiastic. Far more than he was with her pregnancy

with Megan. It was almost as if he was going, far more than he was with her pregnancy with Meghan. It was almost as if he was going through the gestation right along with her. He wanted to do it all. He wanted to be right there in the living room when his son was born. Why was he so excited? He had no doubt at all that he would soon have a son. In a way, and on an unconscious level, Jerry foresaw his son's birth as a rebirth for himself, too.

People have speculated. Right when he saw that baby emerge in the world, maybe he thought he was somehow going to be released from the bad things he'd been doing. He thought Darcy understood how important it was that he should be there in the room with her. He thought she would tell him when the time came, but then she didn't. He tried to follow her into the into the into the delivery room and found his way blocked. The doctor had left firm orders. He was not to be allowed in. Maybe she was worried that Jerry would try and turn the delivery into a sexy photoshoot. Oh yeah! Put those heels on. Pull your legs back over your head. That's so fucking hot.

Well, I can see my son's head poking out of your hot bush. Let me go get the tri-stickle. I want you to ride around a bit to have a for his shoulders pop out. God, that's so fucking hot. No, that wasn't it. Jerry was so mad and so sad. He could hardly bear to look at his son first. You know, he's so upset about not being in the delivery room. Then at home, Darcy told him why she wanted to be alone. She said that she had asked the doctor to keep him out.

She said, I didn't want you to watch another man play with me. I didn't think it was right. That was a fucking odd way to describe a physician's part in the birth of a baby. But considering how he had always told Darcy, he could not bear to have another man touch you. She may have thought that any touching would just disturb her husband.

That night, Jerry goes out, seals another pair of shoes to console himself. But that, nor his wife's explanation, did not take away fresh new feelings of shame and betrayal. This nut job felt like he needed revenge now. More revenge than ever before for that, that doctor touching my wife's sweet pussy, right? And his wife wouldn't let him watch it. Shit or something like that. It's hard to tell this guy. A short while later, he was in a in downtown Portland, sees a girl wearing a pretty pair of shoes. Rather than

knocking her down, see her shoes this time, he decides he a downtown Portland, sees a girl wearing a pretty pair of shoes. Rather than knocking her down, see her shoes this time, he decides he's gonna follow her and so she gets home and then he'll take the shoes from her there. He stalks this woman for hours, staying just behind her while she shops for groceries, following her onto the bus, jumping out of the doors behind her,

just so they begin to close. He watches her going to an apartment building, follows notes which window is hers, waits until he's sure she's asleep and then he creeps into her apartment. It was exciting to have varied his procedure this way, to know that the woman, you know, to know what the woman looked like who slept so close to where he, you know, was fun and around in her closet. He told himself he didn't want her.

He only comforts shoes, but then she woke up inside dark shadowy figure kneeling on the bedroom floor. Before she could cry out, he was beside her on the bed. He starts choking her, raising that he has to because she would be able to tell someone what he looked like. Before she could turn on the light, she goes limp. She hadn't seen his face.

He hadn't thought of assaulting her, but now he discovers he has a throbbing erection. He changes plans again, and he rapes her, takes her shoes and leaves. Now he will need a lot more than a new pair of shoes, you know, to get as sexually excited as the shoes used to making feel. And so his behavior escalates. Not long after this, another big event in 1967 almost kills Jerry. He was working as a electrician. He was usually very cautious, certainly knowledgeable about safety precautions, but then one day

he slips out. He's working at one bench, reaches across to connect a live wire in his hand to terminals on another bench. Instantly his body becomes rigid as a jolt of power runs through him. 480 volts, races from his right arm through his chest down his left arm. And the force of all this picks him up and throws him across the bench and onto the floor. He's dazed. He's burned. He's got a bad neck

injury. He doesn't get hospitalized, but this incident may have fucked his brain up. Even more than it already was because now he starts thinking about killing January 26, 1968. Jerry will be turning 29 in five days. Linda sloss and has just turned 19. She woke up left her home in a low-hot organ, a suburb of Portland, full of enthusiasm for her new job, like most mornings. And usually by the time she was done with the work at night, you know, that enthusiasm would turn into a discouragement. The young woman had discovered in the last few months that selling in cyclopedias door to door was not the fun and adventurous career she had hoped for when she moved from Rochester, Minnesota. In fact, a lot

of her new life was not what she had expected. She had thought that by moving to the West Coast, she was in for sunny, balmy weather, the kind of breezy beaches and sunny days featured on postcards from Hawaii and California. But Portland not that, rainy, so rainy. Sometimes just drizzled, sometimes it poured, but it seemed like it was always raining.

But the real problem was her job. If she could just have sold, if you could sell one set of encyclopedias, which included your books in an atlas, she would be able to pay rent for a month by groceries, even get a couple new shirts and dresses. But when she knocked on doors, people usually shook their head,

she had to door in her face over and over when she was given what seemed like a promising lead, the customer always turned out to be uninterested. From the small glimpse that she saw inside home, she found that most people, excuse me, didn't have any books on display. Probably we're not going to shell out hundreds of dollars for a set of genuine leather bound encyclopedias. Now she approaches an address near 47th Street in Hawthorne, her hands are numb from the icy rain, the way

to the books. She spots a man standing in a front yard. Maybe this will be your next customer. He seems like he's looking at her, waving as though he's expecting someone. She proceeds to the house, tells him she has an appointment to show someone in cyclopedias, was this the right house? He smiles, yep, sure is, Beckins are in. He's a big man, Pudgy, but not fat. And when Linda tries to go inside towards the front steps,

he takes her by the elbow, pulls her to the back, telling her that there was company upstairs, his wife and with his wife and daughter. Downstairs, he added in his workshop, that would be better. He reassures her that he was really interested in buying the cyclopedias, so she follows him to the basement through a rear door. He pulls up a stool for her, asks about the cyclopedias. Can he get some tonight? She tells him that he'll have to order them, but the whole set could be out in a week. And she adds for his daughter, maybe he'd like to order a set of children's books.

She stands up, bends over her case, you know, opens it in her case with brochures and sample books. Then she feels a crash against her head, tumbles from the stool and passes out. The man who'd attacked her was, of course, Jerry Brutos, right? He now drops the two by four he'd hit her with, checks to see if she's still breathing. There's slight movement from her ribs, he sees, so he places both of his hands around her neck and squeezes, little bones crush under his hands. And within minutes, she is dead.

Now he gets back to work carrying out his plan. The plan he had been fantasizing about for months, but never followed through on. Not until now, not until this person who shows up at his door. She doesn't have the long flowing hair he'd been dreaming of, but she did have a nice body. She's wearing high heels. That's the most important part. But then there's a hitch in his fantasy plan. He hears footsteps overhead. All right. He would never be able to do what he wanted if someone was interrupting him.

He goes upstairs where his mom is playing with his daughter. Those she had never cared for him. She seemed happy to babysit his daughter, which actually made him even more angry towards her. He tells his mom now to take his daughter for hamburgers, hands her a $5 bill, even as she protested that it was raining too hard. He told her he wanted to double cheeseburger, stay there, eat the meals, then order his when they're ready to come home. Mama, please, and her forces are working with me that you do not understand, Mama. The feet will soon be cold, Mama. Mama's used to Jerry being fucking weird. She leaps. Knock on the door when you get back, he says, then he hurries back down to the basement.

But just as he bends over his victim's body, he hears someone upstairs again, heavy footsteps, selling commands. Goes upstairs, finds Ned Rolls, a friend of his, he got a key to the place, and it'll let himself in. Jerry is careful to match Ned's carefree demeanor, try not to show his impatience, even as he knows his mom and daughter are gonna be getting back in a minute. He laughs match Ned's carefree demeanor try not to show his impatience even

as he knows his mom and daughter are going to be getting back in a minute. He laughs at Ned's jokes, tells him he has a project he needs to work on downstairs. He's making some nitroglycerin. We'll call him later. 10 minutes less a weird fucking project to have downstairs but 10 minutes later he's back in the basement. He pulls in his body out from under the steps where he had stashed it or closed, don't excitement, excite him so he takes him off.

To his delight, he finds that she is wearing a blue bra, slip and girdle, and beneath the girdle bright red panties. He touches her underwear, removing the pieces one by one, taking extra time with the panties, then redresses her in the bra, slip and girdle, then proceeds to play with her dead body like she's a fucking doll. But then a knock on the floor, a few minutes later, signals that his mom is home. He was annoyed that he had to leave his new toy again, but that was also part of the fantasy, right? Uh, you know, it should be waiting for him under the stairs when he wants to use her later, whenever he wants.

This is a woman who will never deny him. When he goes back to her late that night, after his wife and kids are asleep, he thinks about having sex with her. But besides, it's not necessary. He wants to take her picture, but he has no film for his camera. He wasn't expecting a woman to just waltz into the house, but he does have his collection to play with. It's collection of filmy, lacy panties, bras, the day-to-back years.

Now he decides to use Linda's body as a model for them. He spends hours dressing, undressing her, taking special time with the panties. He knows though that he's gonna have to get rid of her before the sun comes up. But he wants something to remember her by. He doesn't have any film, but he wants a classic serial killer's trophy. He's a small freezer in the basement, keeping her whole body.

That's out of the question, but he thinks what about just one foot? So that's what he does. He cuts her left foot off, cleanly at the ankle, slip to she want it, and puts that foot in the freezer. Now all that was left to do was put her body in the in the Willamette River, dragged down by an engine head.

At two in the morning, January 27th, 1968, Jerry Brutos, dude with the murder victims foot in his fucking freezer now, takes the St. John Bridge across the Willamette. To be safe, he pulls over pretending he has a flat tire There's no cars inside. He lifts Linda's body from the trunk along with the engine head It is tied to her and just tosses them both over the bridge rail Watching the engine had quickly pull her to the bottom of the river that all went according to plan Later that morning at the encyclopedia sales office her co-workers figured that Linda has just decided to quit Happens all the time with warning, lots to turn over.

Nobody can remember where she was supposed to be the day before, most of them were busy training and supplying salespeople. Her family soon grows worried, then frantic, and they make a Missing Persons report to the police department in Portland, but all efforts of the Missing Persons detectives lead nowhere. Linda Slauson remained on the Missing missing role, certainly not forgotten by either the investigators or her family. The assembly was no place to look for her.

The earth might as well have opened up in Swaller. Meanwhile, Jerry Brudos kept using Linda's foot as a fucking shoe model. But then it starts to decompose, not look so sexy anymore, so he ties a weight to the foot and tosses that and then will lamb it as well and waits to find another victim. Around this time Jerry loses another job in Portland and in the spring of 1968 the family moves again from 47th and Hawthorne down to Salem. Darcy loves their new place. They moved into a cute toji house on the center street with a big yard full of evergreens roses and flowering trees, fence around the yard so kids can play outside. There was also an attic for storage and best of all for Jair Bear, a garage with a workshop connected to the house

by a breezeway. The Oregon State Mental Hospital where he had spent time over a decade earlier was also just a few blocks down the street, home, sweet home. Money soon gets tight in Salem. There he's having a hard time finding another job. He mostly hung around the house, you know, put it around the garage, jerking off his shoes and whatnot, getting some weight. One day Darcy mentions to him that he seemed

to be getting weight and he grunts and disappears into another room in the house. And then he returns, his wife is shocked to see Jerry standing before her, dressed in a woman's bra, stuffed with something to look like breasts, a girdle, stockings with garters, and the biggest pair of black pointy-toed high-heeled shoes she had literally ever seen Somehow he also managed to tuck his dick inside the girdle so that he almost looked like a woman Turning in posing for her and Darcy laughs nervously She has no idea what a fetish is right her knowledge of sexuality stopped at straight and gay and Jerry

Had always seemed straight. She doesn't know what the fuck is going on. And Jerry seems disappointed by her reaction. They have an awkward silence, and then he just leaves the room. Fuckin' Jerry! Not a good idea to spring something like that out of fuckin' nowhere, you maniac. Right, gotta give your partner a little heads up.

Explain where you're coming from before you go full on silence of the lambs, right? With your lady just, would you fuck me? I'd fuck me. I'd fuck me so hard. As the Brutosis settle into their new home in the summer of 1968, a dozen blocks northwest, 20 year police veteran and detective Jim Stovall works in his office. Stovall and Brutos actually had a few things in common. They each had a wife and son and daughter. Both of them had been in the armed services at one point and both were planners given to attention to detail. But only one of them had jerked off onto a frozen severed foot.

In the summer of 1968, Jim was a tall handsome man with clear gray eyes, iron gray hair and an athlete's physique. World War II Stovall served in both the US Army and the Marine Corps where he became a rifle range coach where he did a rifle range coach, where he did not get kicked out for being worried about attacking a Korean nightmare woman. He wouldn't stop molesting him in his dreams. Following military service, Jim signed out for the Salem Police Department, where he became a fucking legend amongst law enforcement. He's seen more than a few hairy situations before investigating Jare Bear.

He talked down numerous gunmen, some who had guns pointed at him. When he had to shoot somebody, he didn't miss. Still, it was the top marksman in the department for 18 straight years. In the 1980s, he shot an occasional 98 or 99 on the FBI's PPC course. He was promoted to detective, only five years after joining the force. 1970, he'd be named master detectives, National Police Officer of the the month singled out by parade magazine for an honorable mention in their annual salute to the 10 most outstanding officers in America his resume is fucking insane I won't go over it all suffice to say he was very good at his job and he will eventually

fucking nail Jerry Brutus so great and his journey will start on November 26th 1968 with the disappearance of Jan Susan Whitney. We will meet her in just a bit. By the fall of 1968, Jerry had found another job, again, as an electrician for a firm south of Salem, not a great job, but a job. His marriage was still intact, but strained. Dar she didn't seem to ever want to have sex with him now. She didn't actually refuse, but he felt like she found him disgusting. And maybe she felt that way because he was pretty disgusting, just as a human being. She was away from her home a ton now, spending four days a week with two sisters who were good friends. He still ruled the home with an iron hand, however.

He told Darcy that the shop area was his and he didn't want her going out to the garage without his permission. He got a strong padlock, put it on the door to assure that they would have privacy. Darsie complained about this because the freezer was out there, but he said that he would just get whatever she needed out for her. He made her use the intercom. If she wanted, you know, him to come inside, he did not want her fucking near the garage. Not suspicious at all. He didn't worry so much about her poking around on the attic where he also had shit.

He didn't want her to see. He told her that there were some mice and rats up there. And that scared her. What he really had up there were treasures. Boxes of shoes and bras and slips, all sizes, dozens and dozens and dozens, maybe even hundreds. Some large enough for him to climb into to spend hours enjoying the feel of the soft cloth against his bare skin. Jerry loved his precious trophies, but he wanted more. He wanted bodies. He wanted bodies. He wanted sex lives.

Women he owned, who would do whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted. When he starts making a new plan for how he's gonna get these women, a dumb, very unrealistic, completely crazy plan. His worst, most insane plan yet, but a plan nonetheless. This is the new version of the old Hillside Fuck Tunnel.

Jerry now wants to find some place where he can set up what he called an underground butcher shop, not terrifying at all. It would have a bunch of cells where he could keep various captives and a huge freezer room where he could freeze the bodies of women and he had to kill for not doing what he wanted

or a women he grew tired of. And then, and here's what the plank is even crazier, once he had this underground torture and fucked-ungeon all ready to go, he would now literally take a bus. He has to have for his plan to work. And he would drive his bus around, and he would round up a whole bunch of sexy girls, and he would bring them back to a torture complex. He would then get them all set up in their cages, and he would choose which ones he wanted for his pleasure.

He would take them out, he'd rape them, maybe also shoot him, stab him, beat him, torture them sexually. And no one would be the wiser because it's all underground. They'll take him into pictures for his photo collection. You know, he's finally done with, you know, a particular lady, he'll just put it in the freezer and freezer in a position that he finds the sexiest. So she'll be in that position that will arouse him forever. How the fuck did he picture this playing out?

How is he going to get a bus full of sexy women all by himself? I picture this absolute fucking lunatic just driving around in this bus with like a bullhorn around Portland? Jerry Sexy Lady transport open for business. Sexy ladies ride for free. Free ride to wherever you want to go as long as you're a sexy lady wearing high heels and colorful lacy panties, free bus rides for sexy ladies who won't tell anyone that they ever saw me or were going to ride my bus, my rap bus, I mean sexy lady bus.

He knew this plan required thousands and thousands dollars and that he barely had enough for rent and groceries. So, he's gonna push that plan. I don't know for a few months, a few years. Until he gets the money. He's currently borrowing money from Mama which requires sucking up to her, which makes him furious.

But still, he holds on to his delusional fucking bus full hot chicks driven to a torture rape and murder deep freeze dungeon fantasy. Meanwhile, with Thanksgiving just around the corner of things are more tense than ever at the Brutos home. This means that Jerry's going to be spending time with people he'd to tests his own mom, Darcy's parents, they'll fucking hate him. The constant rain is dull job, not having a deep freeze dungeon full of sex slaves. It's all making him restless. Nobody's hanging out laundry in the winter because it would never get dry. So he hasn't snatched any new bras or panties

in weeks if not months. His wife also weirdly was not asking him to model any more lingerie or do creepy dances in the kitchen. Nobody knows the trouble I've seen. Nobody knows my sorrow. He's fucking, he's in the dumps. He's really down in the dumps. Let's now meet another young woman.

We'll unfortunately soon meet this fucking psycho. 23-year-old Jan Susan Whitney was a forward-thinking kind of woman. She was almost finished with her degree at the University of Oregon in Eugene, about 60 miles south of Salem. She lived in McMindville, southwest of Portland. Where she had her own car, a job, a great group of friends at five feet seven inches tall, a curvy 130 pounds with short thick brown hair blue eyes. Also did not lack for male company, but what people loved most about her was not her attractiveness,

her ambition. It was her kind heart. She would go out of her way to help people, especially hitchhikers, eek on their way between Eugene and McMinville, on November 26, 1968, Jan concluded a visit to friends in Eugene, headed north on the I-5 freeway towards her apartment in McMinville. McMinville. She was dressed in black belt bottom slacks,

green jacket, when she said goodbye to her friends, she planned to be home that evening. It was only a short drive, two hours at most. Thanksgiving was two days away, and Jan had plans to be with friends and relatives. She was happy, she was dependable, intelligent, there was no reason why those plans should have changed except Jan would disappear that night.

Since she had been in transit, it was almost impossible for investigators to pin down just where she vanished or if she had been taken against her will. A check of her apartment later indicated that she had not returned from her trip to Eugene. Mail in papers were stacked up, dust, lay heavy in the small rooms.

She just disappeared somewhere along I five. Later it would be discovered that Jan's car had broken down. Two men were there to help her. Hitchhiker she picked up. And then Bruto spotted all three. He offered to fix her car, but said he didn't have the tools on him. He gave the three right to Salem, dropped the men off, saying he could take it from there. From there, he drove Jan to his house, said that he'd forgotten his keys and the garage. But his wife was on her way home and she had a copy,

just be a few more minutes. Then he gets out of the car and then he gets back in the car behind Jan. Tells her he has a funny joke. He has her to close her eyes, explain how to tie a shoe. The funny party said, was it most people? Just couldn't do it. Jan tribe or eyes were open and she was mime with her hands. Jerry told her that was cheating. She turned around, tried to describe it as Jerry took a mailman's leather strap, made a loop around her head. You know, just throws overhead, pulls it back tight around her throat, opens his door,

puts the strap in, and then slams it there. She wasn't moving now. And soon, you know, she can't breathe and she is dead. He then takes her dead body into his workshop, has sex with her corpse, then dresses her up in some stolen clothes, then takes pictures and then gets another idea. He hoists her up towards a ceiling on a rope.

And then for several days in a row, he'll just leave her hanging up towards a ceiling and he'll come home, have sex with her and then hoist her back up towards the ceiling. Knowing you'll have to dispose of Jan's body at some point or another, but wanting more than photos or a foot, he decides to experiment also. He thought he could make a plastic mold of her breasts. So he cut off her breasts, skinned them, stretched them over a sawdust mound, tax the edges

onto a board, uses plastic to make mold, but it doesn't turn out like he wanted it. For fuck's sake, the lives some people lead. Meanwhile, after Jan goes missing, a description of her car was sent out on teletypes in Oregon and adjoining states. The car was found parked in a rest area on the road leading up to the Sanian pass, just north of Albany, Oregon, on a slightly east of I-5. The red and white rambler had no external damage and was locked. Oregon State Police ordered that the vehicle be towed into the garages of the identification

bureau for processing. It was found to have a minor mechanical problem that made it impossible to drive, but there was absolutely no evidence that the driver had been injured when the car stopped working. Or just by anyone, after the car broke down. No blood, no sign of a struggle, no keys. There was a fingerprint, a large one from one of the hubcaps, but with the technology available in 1968, a single latent print was worthless to detectives. Unless they had a, you know, suspects print to compare it to. So Jerry would remain on exactly no one's radar for the horrible crime

he had just committed. Thanksgiving came just two days later after Dan, Jan's disappearance, November 28th. Jerry Brudos took his family away for the holidays to visit friends and family leaving Jen witness body literally hanging up in his workshop. And while they're gone, there was an accident that very nearly put an end to his killing. My god this sick fuck got so lucky here. A car went out of control on center streets sliding on a rain slick streets crashed into Brutosis garage workshop damaging the structure actually punched a hole in one of the walls. The Salem police investigated the accident but they could not get into the garage to estimate

the damage because the doors were all locked the hole was too small to climb through. When the family returned home Jerry is agitated to see there's a hole in the wall of his private workshop. I'm sure he's also about fucking shit in his pants, thinking that somebody found the body there. There's just a card though from the police saying to call them. He tells Darcy he'll take care of some things, then call the police. He sneaks in, takes Jan's body down, puts her in the pump house in the backyard, covers her with a sheet of plastic. A few hours later, he contacts the Salem police accident investigator who had left a card and unlocked the garage so that the officer could check the damage from inside.

Afterwards, Jerry nails boards over the splintered wood and the workshop was completely closed off again. And he's more confident than ever now. The cops could have just, they could have seen Jan's hanging body if they would have just looked through the hole, just popped the head in the hole and looked up, but he didn't. So he got in a way with it. He knows it's time to get rid of Jan's body though. He ties her to some heavy scrap iron and then throws the scrap iron and her body tied

up together into the, well, am it just like before? Meanwhile investigators continue to look fruitlessly for her. They were following the only lead they had. An Oregon state police lieutenant had received a letter from Albany sent in a plane envelope tediously printed like the writer had just tried to disguise as handwriting, the letter said that the writer had been present at the sannyom pass at the rest stop when uh, excuse me, when Jan Whitney disappeared. The tenant wide appealed to the public asking the informant to come forward, but that was

the end of it. Nobody came forward guessing whoever sent that letter, probably they were nervous because uh, they thought they might be accused of Jan's murder. You know, in that, in that, in that situation, I can't say I blame them, right? Too bad they couldn't have sent over a bunch of details, though, regarding Jerry's appearance, the kind of vehicle he drove, et cetera. Not sure why they didn't do that. Meanwhile, Jerry Bruto's continued to commute to his job

at Lebanon, Oregon now. Tiny Hamlet, just east of the I-5 freeway beyond the Albany exit. Christmas comes, the new year, and then Jerry celebrates his 30th birthday. He'd gotten away with murder, right? But overall, not doing well. His headaches had gone away for a while, but recently he was feeling anxious all the time and they returned worse than ever.

Right in the spring of 1969, Jan Winnie had been missing for four months. Linda Slauson had been missing for 14 months, and no one has a clue other than Jerry. What happened in the both? They disappeared 15 miles apart, without obvious similarities, law enforcement had not connected their disappearances. One disappeared from the streets of Portland, the other from the freeway south of Salem. Speaking of Salem, Thursday, March 27, 1969. Karen Sprinker, 19 years old and a freshman at Oregon State University in Corvallis, had come home to Salem to visit her parents. At school she had a heavy schedule for her pre-med program and was looking forward to a break.

But not a spring break, not a party kind of break. Karen was a virgin with thick, almost black hair that fell past her shoulders, framed her wide trust in face. She graduated from the Sacred Heart Academy in Salem in 1968, was class solutatorian, a member of the National Honor Society, a national merit scholarship finalist. That's a huge deal. Winner of the Salem Elks Leadership Award and a member of the Marion County Youth Council. She was a fucking go getter, right? Take Jerry out of the equation and Karen was destined for great things.

Everyone expected her to be a doctor before she was 30. Surely before noon on March 27th, Karen headed for Meyer and Frank department store in Salem. She was going to meet her mom for lunch in the storage restaurant. And then the two of them were going to shop for spring break, spring break clothes that Karen could take back to school. Mrs. Sprinker waited in the lunchroom for Karen, who was driving her own car.

The lunch date was set for 12. Karen was unfailingly prompt normally. At 12.15, Karen's mother looked at her watch, no puzzled, orders a cup of coffee, wonders what's going on. Karen is a hyper-responsible girl. 12.30, she begins to get nervous, leaves the restaurant, finds a pay phone nearby,

uses that to call the family home, nobody answers, goes back to the lunchroom, Karen is still not arrived. So she goes home, Karen isn't there. And she also isn't there at the, at her father's vet clinic. The sprinkler's called all of Karen's friends. None of them had seen her. They tell the sprinklers that Karen had no problems. They were aware of that would explain this.

Family calls hospitals. And there's no record of Karen's sprinkler being checked in. So now her parents called the police and report her missing. Salem PD first tries to reassure Karen's parents, right? There were many cases of missing quote unquote young people who came back within a couple days, especially young adults starting to live their own lives. But the sprinklers are adamant that something bad has happened, right? They insist she be classified immediately as a missing person. Our preliminary report is taken listing Karen Elena Sprinker,ing since 1230 hours March 27, 1969, last known movement

headed to Meyer and Frank. Then the sprinkers go home to sit by the phone, listen for the sound of Karen, come into the front front door. But of course, nobody will come. Say to police, go to the parking garage at Meyer and Frank on the off chance that Karen had come to the store. But for some reason, not appear for her day to the restaurant, they search the levels of the parking garage, find no sign of the missing girl, nor signs of foul play until they reached the roof. There they find Karen's sprinkler's car parked neatly and locked. She almost made it to her mother. There was no way to tell how long it had been there. Myron Frank put no time limits on shoppers parking like Jan Whitney's vehicle, Karen's

car did not look abnormal. Technicians found no blood, semen, or unidentifiable fingerprints. Whatever happened to Karen's sprinkler, hadn't happened in the car. Karen's sprinkler's disappearance now becomes the prime case for Jim Stovall and his fellow detectives. Jim being the bad-ass mother fucker we met earlier. Stovall's own daughter was only two years older than Karen, so there was a personal aspect to this case for him. The Salem Capital Journal and the Salem State been carried Karen's prankers picture with the question, have you seen this girl? And the public responded. Mostly it was useless tips. The promising lead about San Francisco turned out to be a bust. But the calls kept coming. A lot of

people cared about Karen. Her boyfriend started investigating her disappearance on his own. He goes to Portland, dressed in jeans and a a batic shirt, beard deliberately unshaven. He wanted to look like a hippie and he's, he's succeeded. And for several days, he lordered around hippie hangouts blending into the rough crowd of people until they got used to him. He has carefully casual questions mentioned he was looking for a result lady who split on me, but couldn't find any leads either. I love that he did that, though. He went that far. Good for this guy. But then two high school girls do come forward, talk to the police.

They say they've been at Meyer and Frank a few weeks before Karen's sprinklers is the parents, and they saw somebody who struck them as unusual. At first, they thought the person was a woman, but then they realized that the person tugging at their girdle and fixing their nylons was actually a man. This intrigued investigators. Karen would probably have been a lot less wary if a woman called her over asking for help

with something, but they had no way of finding this person. Reluctantly, Karen's family goes out and clears out her dorm room now, her book's records, photos, clothes, all going to boxes. By the third week of April, there's still no trace of her, but Jim Stovall, far from being done looking. He taxed her picture over his desk, determined to find her if something had happened to her, he Jim Stovall far from being done looking. He taxed her picture over his desk, determined to find her. If something had happened to her, he wants to avenge her. Meanwhile, a media frenzy is hitting Salem. The papers were hinting that there was a maniac

clue suggesting that whatever had happened to Karen's sprinkler might have happened to someone else, or might happen, excuse me, to someone else of the person that's in cut. Jerry's wife Darcy now makes sure to not go out at night alone. She's keeping an eye on Megan whenever she's playing in the front yard, Meyer and Frank's is less than a mile away. And Darcy doesn't want to be the killer's next target. She would only go out ironically with Jerry at her side, except Jerry has gone a lot.

He's working in Lebanon during the day, then running errands after his shift. Sometimes he goes to Corvallus, case he does yard work for a friend over there. But if Darcy asks about details, he gets annoyed. He's also getting more obsessed with the privacy of his workshop. If she even knocks on the door to ask him a question, he fucking gets angry, freaks out. He needs privacy to work out his fuck bus and torture deep freeze-layer plan, Darcy.

Fuck bus is not going to drive itself to the evil underground rape dungeon One day Darcey goes out to the garage to do some laundry. See Jerry developing photos. What is she doing? Walking up on him She's able to sneak up on him see that the photos are of nude women Confronted Jerry has an answer. He says a college kid asked him to develop these photos. He didn't know what was on the rolls Here we go again with his super dumb lies. He didn't know what was on the rolls. Here we go again with his super dumb lies. He reminds me of her bau maister here.

Telling his wife that the skeleton, their son found in the yard was, you know, just his dad's old doctor's office skeleton that he just tossed out under a tree, didn't know what else to do with it. Darcy doesn't buy Jerry's bullshit, also not willing to confront him now. Not about the true nature of the photos

or about other photos she has already seen. Darcy had previously found pictures of Jerry and women's clothing, one photo he was laying on his back on their bed, holding the pillow over his face and a clumsy attempt to hide his features. I wonder if he was jerking off to a pictures of himself here. He wore a large white bra,

had to be a 48-seat least, and a long, you know, panty girdle, white stockings, black heels, another picture is almost the same. Only Jerry's line flat in a stomach with his arm draped over the edge of the bed. His right arm tucked beneath his, you know, breasts, I guess, his head turned to the right.

Another, he wears a black slip, trimmed with black lace, those same shoes. She figured he'd taken, you know, these pictures was one of his cameras. He had a remote control attachment for. And she'd been trying not to think about it. Sometimes after she found those pictures, she also found a thing that she couldn't figure out what it was. It was round and heavy, few inches in diameter seemed to be made of some kind of plastic. Uh, she held it, turned it over, then realized it looked like a woman's breast, not as large, but almost a perfect replica.

When she asked Jerry what it was, he said it was a paperweight. He had designed as a novelty item. She said that it looked so real. And he replied that, well, it didn't work though, because he'd put too much hardener in the plastic. It didn't work for what? Why would too much hardener make a paperweight not work?

It seemed like their marriage was starting to fall apart. All the Jerry's jokes now have a sexual or hostile tone. He seems constantly either angry or disappointed in Darcy. She vows she'll try to be nicer to him, dress up more in the fancy clothes he likes, try to be more loving. Right, the things we do to save our doomed relationships. The things we do, and we find reality so hard to face. On the 21st of April, Jerry goes to the parking garage at Portland State University to look for a new girl now. This time he has a realistic enough

looking toy pistol with him. He thought I would make a girl frightened enough to do what he asked. He didn't have his bus and dungeon plan figured out yet, but that wasn't going to stop him from trying to bring more women one of the time to his garage. He found himself a prime lookout point where he watched women cross the street far below his perch in the parking lot, and he finally chose the one he wanted. A slender woman with long red gold hair, very full breasts. She wore bright red linen dress, the hemline stop and at mid thigh and best of all tantalizing high heel pumps.

Her name was Sharon, Sharon Wood and she was 24. Though young, she'd already been married for seven years, had two kids. That afternoon, she was supposed to meet with her soon to be ex-husband, which was what preoccupied her as she crossed her car. As I sped down the steps into the basement level, my high heels clicked on the concrete she would recall later. The heavy door shut automatically behind me, cutting me off from daylight and the campus population. I walked about 15 feet forward, I looked around for my car, and I realized I was on the wrong level. She also realized someone was behind her, instinct told her not to return to the more isolated stair area, so she pivoted, started for the entrance on the other side of the building,

and then felt a light tap on her shoulder. She turned around, her eyes met Jerry Brudos' pale blue ones. He says, if you don't scream, I won't shoot you. But Sharon does scream. Hail Sharon, fucking well played lady. I love hearing her talk about this fight in interviews. She has a boss. She backs away as she screams undeterred. Jerry Bruto steps quickly behind her again,

grabs her in an arm lock around her neck. She's only five foot four inches tall, 118 pounds, far smaller than Jerry, but she's full of fucking fight. Kicking and screaming, Sharon continues to shout, no, she tries to grab for the gun that's right in front of her face, twists and pulls at the fat fingers that held it. Somehow as she and Jerry wrestled, his thumb ends up in her mouth and she bites down hard. She later said that fear paralysis kicked in, her jaw clenched and she literally couldn't

voluntarily release her bite. Screaming himself now, Jerry forces her to the ground, slams her head head into concrete several times to loosen her fucking locked jaw on his thumb knocked nearly unconscious she releases his now bloody thumb hazely sees a Volkswagen bug driving towards him also sees Jerry Brutus running away from her but then he stops starts running back towards her and she thinks that he's going to kill her but he just grabs his fake gun and runs away and then Sharon passes out Portland police patrolman quickly arrive at the parking garage, take Sharon's statement about the crime, which was listed as aggravated assault. No connection is made yet with this assault and the mission women though. Jerry's still not on anyone's radar. Very next day tries another abduction this time with a young girl around 15 named Leanne Brumley, 1030

the morning on a Tuesday, she's hurrying along the Southern Pacific Railroad tracks when he spots her. He grabs her, shows for the gun. She also screams at him to let her go and tries as he tries to pull her into a sports car. And she fights. She breaks away, runs screaming for help

to a woman working in her yard, Jerry jumps in his car and speeds away, over to now. He heads home and I don't know, dresses up in some plus size women's lingerie and beats off into a high heeled shoe or thigh boots while I'm alone about how hard it is to get his bus and fucking dungeon set up. April 23rd 1969. Karen Sprinker has now been missing for three weeks and six days. And there are no new leads.

On that day, Linda Don Sally leaves her work at the offices of consolidated freightways in Portland at 4.30 pm. Linda was 22 and tiny. Five foot one, petite build. She's also gorgeous, ash blonde hair, blue eyes. She won a miss smile contest a few years back. She's feisty and excellent athlete. She has a boyfriend who she loved and on the afternoon of April 23rd, her plan was to

drive to the shopping mall at Lloyd Center and buy him a birthday present Then she was going to go to the East Side YMCA for a swim in the pool there where this boyfriend worked as a life card Since she worked days and he worked evenings the only way they could really see each other during the week was for Linda to come to the pool and swim Linda gets into her car to begin the afternoon her Volkswagen Beetle was her pride and joy And she parked it carefully on the sixth floor of the parking garage. We're in a beige coat. She hustles into the bus lane mall. She buys a boyfriend or president of jewelry store and a swayed cloth jacket and a pair of shorts.

She's fucking generous. Leaves the men's store at 515 and then walks back to jewelry shop evidently changing her mind about the watchtrap she'd bought. She gets a refund and leaves at the YMCA pooled in his boyfriend. It's keeping an eye on the kids and the water he's looking around for his girlfriend. By seven o'clock, she's still hasn't shown, not by 7.30 either. The kid's swimming session then is over and an adult's only session begins.

With a spade of time when he doesn't have to guard so closely, her boyfriend watches the door of the women's locker room. But Linda, a wonderful person with what was going to be a bright future, never shows up. Well, Linda Sally doesn't arrive at her job, but consolidates her frayways and next morning, her friends and family grow extremely worried. Something bad had to have happened. Oregon State Police Investigators aware of other cases involving missing young women, treat her disappearance very seriously. They joined detectives from Portland and searched the grounds and parking garage at the Lloyd Center. It was a replay of the same scenario

that just happened to Karen's brinker. Just like Karen and Jan Lindescar in the parking garage locked, no signs of a struggle. Comparing the cases of the missing women detectives in Oregon, see similarities again and again. Four pretty young women have now disappeared within 16 months, leaving no clues, and all the girls had vanished within a 50 mile area. None of them had anything in their background that would have made them a likely candidate to run away. There were no witnesses.

There were no signs of physical evidence, right? Or there was no bits of physical evidence, not a piece of clothing to drop a purse, a drop of blood or a hair, nothing. None of them had reported feeling afraid of anyone in their lives either. So detectives knew they were looking for somebody who snatched victims randomly. It also seemed like the person who chose in victims from areas patrolled by different police agencies. Then the sloss in from the jurisdiction of the Portland City police,

Jen Whitney from the I-5 Freeway, police by the Oregon State Police and Lynn County Sheriff's Officers, Karen Sprinker from the City of Salem and Linda Sally from the City of Portland again. Law enforcement now flooded the area of Bulletin's descriptions of the missing girls, warnings to pretty young women. They seemed like the crimes were getting closer and closer together. That meant that they needed to act fast to prevent another young woman from being taken and likely being killed.

Law enforcement assumed correctly they had a serial killer in their midst, and a few weeks later this suspicion becomes more likely when a body turns up. May 10th, 1969. A man fishing the Bundy bridge over the long-term river see something strange. As he casts his line out, he saw a large, bulky object twisting in the drift, but copped by something they held it fast. It seemed too soft to be a log, too solid to be a bundle of cloth. The fisherman laid his pole carefully on the bank and sidestep down, placed his feet tentatively in the damp weeds. He catches onto a maple sapling, hangs out over the river to get a closer look. And it's a human body.

You can see the hair, a glimpse of pale flesh. He calls the Benton County Sheriff's office immediately and sheriff Charles E. Reams dispatches deputies. Deputies report back that the body was a young woman waited down with a, waited down, excuse me, by a car transmission. The news makes its way to detectives and Salem and Portland. They wonder, could this be the first break in the case? The body largely preserved by the cold water found only wearing a beige, uh, coat was identified as belonging to Linda Sally. Someone to take in Linda more than 70 miles away from the Lloyd Center, shopping mall, killed her and then had thrown her away in the long time.

Linda Sally's body had been bound to the auto transmission with nylon cord and copper wire. A reddish fabric resembling a mechanics industrial cloth was caught in her bonds. A clue, even though it was mass-produced, the autopsy further found that the cause of death was traumatic asphyxiation. It was impossible to determine if she had been raped

due to the water. But what's something else found during the post mortem on Linda, something that would be kept from the media because it was so bizarre and unex raped due to the water. But what's something else found during the post mortem on Linda, something that would be kept from the media because it was so bizarre and unexplainable at the moment. There were two needle marks in her ribcage, one on each side, about three or four inches below the armpit. The skin surrounding the needle punctures was marked by post mortem burns. Investigators continue to search the river, employing divers to find any possible pieces

of evidence. We'll figure out what those burns are here in a little bit. Two days later on Monday, May 12th investigators make a horrifying discovery, a second body belonging to Karen Sprinker. Her body was weighted down with a head of a six cylinder engine. It had been lashed to her body with nylon cord and copper wiring just like that used to tie the other body to the auto transmission. There was also a red mechanics cloth tied to the engine head. Now they knew there was a serial killer on the loose one with a clear M.O. Lieutenant Jim Stovall and Lieutenant Jean Dottry of the Oregon State Police who will work closely together in the intense probe that lays ahead

are present at the post-mortem examination of Karen Sprinker. They find out that she had also been as fixated but differently than Linda. In Karen's case, the ligature was a narrow band, probably a rope. Karen's sprinkler had been fully clothed when she was discovered in the long time. She wore a green skirt and sweater that her mother had described in the Missing Persons Report. She wore cotton panties, but surprisingly, the simple cotton bra she usually wore had been replaced by a waist-length black bra that was far too big for her. She was a 34 A or B. This was a 38 D. And there was something in the bra, two sodden lumps of brown paper.

The killer had cut off her breasts and filled the bra back up with paper. Those details kept from the press because they were too horrific. Jerry Brutos reads about the discovery of the bodies in the long time. Not particularly worried. He thought he'd been careful, planned well. Alright, he's a fucking criminal mastermind. The fact that the cops that seen his workshop and hadn't done anything made him even more confident, they would never be caught. Life is actually going pretty good for Jareber, at this point.

Doris, he's doing things he liked again, cleaning the house nude, wearing high heels. When someone else was able to watch the kids, she also started taking dance lessons so she could be more seductive. She fantasized about taking her out while she wore high heels and pretty clothes. How every man would be so jealous of her,

but only he could have her, only the fucking powerful Jare Bear. He also developed a new plan. One that didn't involve a bus, underground evil air. He started calling college dorms and asking for a common name like Susan, Lisa, Mary. And somebody always came to the phone and then he would pretend

that a friend had given him her name. Some of them wanted to know which friend would hang up when he couldn't come up with a name, but others, you know, we didn't question that and he would manage to get some dates. He got three dates this way. Three college girls he took out for coffee and talked with. Three girls he also didn't attack or kill. He wasn't doing anything illegal here, just being, uh, you know, fucking creepy. Over coffee enjoyed bringing up the newspaper articles about the dead girls in the river

and it turned him on to see how nervous this made them. Also started going on panty raids again. Except this time, he also wore women's underwear and a pair of large women's pedal pushers, AKA Capri pants while he did that. Man, such a very particular fantasy this guy. Meanwhile, detectives still on his case that just don't know yet. Detective Stovall starts thinking about the killer psychology and he writes out a little report, a profile, if you will. He writes killer is one between 20 and 30 because all victims are young. Two of at least average intelligence, not used to tie parts to bodies are skilled.

3. An electrician. Copper wire on the bodies would wound, one turn around and broken. Then wound twice as electricians do. Twisted in fashion common to electrical wiring. 4. Probably from broken home, with one parent gone, or the child of a strong mother and a weak father. Fucking nailed it. Strong dislike for mothers shown by desecration of female bodies, and he put in all caps, hates women. Five, probable record of anti-social behavior going far back. Six, not participant in contact sports. Women's drengle but not beaten.

Strangulation required little force. Seven, Capri pants wearing panty swiping dead body fucking foot amputating high heel shed living jerker. Real seven now, sorry. Not a steady worker. I would love it if he actually fucking wrote something crazy specific. Not a steady worker,

no reason beyond girls' disappearances at odd hours of the day. Eight driven by a cycle of some sort, possible pseudo menstrual, all girls vanished towards end of month. Slosson January 26th, Whitney November 26th, sprinker March 27th, Sally April 23rd. If I can not bad stove all, a criminal profiler before that position even existed. He also assumed the killer would be someone familiar with the area from Corvallis to Portland. He thought he'd probably lived along the long tom at some point.

It was too isolated to be stumbled upon randomly, and it would take someone who knew the area well to dispose of a body at night time navigating by the Rocky Banks. Stovall studied a map of Oregon since the Killer had gone as far south as Eugene, possibly as far north as Portland. His residence probably somewhere in between. If you're the most likely areas where either Corvallis or Salem also figured that the obvious place to start was where Karen Sprinker lived, the Corvallis campus of Oregon State. This guy's fucking great. Luckily the detectives there were cooperative, former team, they talked

to co-eds night after night, 15 minutes at a time, asked them specific questions, how many dates have they had recently? Who are they with? Have they've received any particular phone calls? Have they been taking to strange places? Have they been in contact with any strange or unusual people? Most of the interviews don't turn up any leads. They just get a lot of boring stories, bad dates, and a few really fucking funny ones.

One story they got is that one girl had dated some dude who wanted to do nothing on the date But have her sit quietly while he played her his flute quote very badly He said quote I turned him down the next time he called God the world is full of so many fucking weirdos People just so bad at understanding how so much of life works on just a basic level. I love picturing some dude who can't play the flute for shit. Who thinks a fucking flute solo is going to woo some lady. On the first date nonetheless even if you're the world's best flutist still fucking weird to break that out

on the first date if you don't know and right away on the first date by the sound of it. So where do you want to go grab a drink, David? Not sure, not sure. Hey, before we go anywhere, can you sit down just just be quiet for a second, check this out. And then just proceed to whip out a flute and just fucking butcher green sleeves and other weird medieval compositions. There were a couple of girls who dated a fellow who wanted to go to Portland and watch pornoes that a dull movie theaters on first date. One said he was kind of weird, but not that weird. He didn't try anything. Again, such a odd first date choice. What's wrong? You said you wanted to watch a movie. What's wrong? It's what? It is my favorite movie. Three or four young women mentioned receiving phone

callers from a stranger. He'd asked them, asked for them by their first name, but none of them had ever met the man before. And hearing about that fella makes the detectives ears per cup. One girl tried to remember what he had talked about. Let's see, she would recall it was a couple of weeks ago. The guy said that he'd been a prisoner in Vietnam for three years. Of course, of course. No, there's no more. He just don't turn it off. Uh, then he started in on this garbage about how he possessed extraordinary powers in ESP, that kind of thing. Oh yeah, fucking why not?

He's, you know, he telepathy and stuff. She said, like he was supposed to be clear of buoyant. Or something, he wanted to meet him for a coke but I said, no, he's so weird. She could remember his name if he'd given one but she did remember the specific detail of him being his Vietnam vet. Another girl said that she had agreed to meet him

in her dorms lounge. So this is great, right? I think he'd talk to somebody who sees him. He was a lot older than she was expecting about 30 kind of tubby, losing his blondish red hair, she said, it was tall about six foot. I said it was a bad dresser. Also noticed he had freckles.

They chit-chatting about the weather and then out of nowhere, the man put his hand on her shoulder and just said, quote, be sad. What? And when she said she didn't have anything to feel sad about, and then out of nowhere, the man put his hand on her shoulder and just said, quote, be sad. Uh, what? And when she said she didn't have anything to feel sad about, he told her to think of the two girls who've been found in the river. She didn't think it was that odd

because she said everyone on campus have been talking about. No, that's so fucking odd. How the fuck did she not think that him tell her to be super, to be sad? Was not super creepy. He asked her if she would go get a coke with him and she agreed after the strange be sad shit. After she told him when they first met that she didn't want to go anywhere with him that she wanted to stay on campus but they go anyways. And while they're on their date, he tells her about self-defense. He said that most girls

think they should kick a man in the balls, but that makes you off balance. He said, you should kick shins first. All right. They went on. I mean, not bad. They went on. And then man, as you want to leave, he said, why did you change your mind and come with me? How did you know I would bring you back home and not take you to the river and strangle you? And that creeps her out. Why would he say something as specific as strangle? The detectives now want to find this freak. He has just become their prime suspect They just have to figure out who he is Coa gives information about his car old junker with kids closing in station wagon with organ plates The detectives hope that he will call her again

They tell her that if he calls she needs to say that she wants to meet up and then alert them under no circumstances Should she go any place with him? One of the descriptors also struck Jim Stovall about this guy Freckles. He remembered seen a description of a large man with Freckles and a complaint made by 15-year-old Leon Brumley about an attempted kidnapping right that girl by the tracks. He goes back, looks at the date, April 22nd, one day before Linda Sally disappeared from Lloyd Center. May 25th, two weeks later. On that night, the co-ed that the detectives has spoken extensively with is alerted that there is a phone call for her.

Goes down to the hall or down the hall, half hoping that it's her mom, girlfriend, another guy, when she picks up the phone, she recognizes his voice. Mr. B. Sad, the fucking freak. He asked her if she felt like another co-conc in some conversation. He said he wants to meet up in 15 minutes. She says she has to wash her hair. So she'll need 45 minutes to an hour. He argues that they, you know, it doesn't need to get dressed up, but eventually he relents and says he'll meet her in the downstairs lounge.

As soon as the line goes dead, she calls the Corvallis police department, hail Nimrod. Well done. Two Corvallis detectives, BJ Miller, Frenchie, Day Lamar, we're in playing clothes, hurry to the scene. They sit and allow each other out of the line of vision of anyone coming in the door. They wait 10 minutes, 20 minutes, and then see them. Large older man who seems out of place on campus. We're in a t-shirt, wrinkled slacks, topped by a Pendleton jacket, detectives approach, showing their badges, said it like a word, and he doesn't seem too surprised.

Says his name is Jerry Brudos, lives in Salem, came over to Moa Friends lawn and check out the place while he was on vacation. The detectives were taken aback by how call me is. Brudos didn't seem to least bit stressed out. Not sweating, not fidgeting. He admits a little sheepishly that he was electrician, married with two kids. He creeped out the detectives but also doesn't give them a legal reason to arrest him. But at least now they know his name.

Officer Sankheim, he leaves a lounge. They know that he drove a beat-up Greenish Blue Station wagon. They jot down the license plate. Returned to headquarters to begin checking the details that Brutos had told them. His story of doing yard work for a friend checked out. He did know the document of the house, whose address he'd given, and the man was on vacation. Neighbors said Brudos often worked there and had during the day that hours of Sunday May 25th. It seemed to be in the clear. But then Stovall starts digging a little deeper.

Fuckin' Stovall! Classic Stovall! He finds files from Brudos' commitment to the Oregon State Hospital, evidence of sexual violence as far back as his teens. And then he starts making a bunch of connections. January of 1968, Bruto's had lived in the same neighborhood, worked by the young encyclopedia sales girl who went missing, Linda Slosson. Bruto's had indicated that he had moved to Salem in August or September of 1968, went to work in Lebanon, Oregon, using the I-5 freeway, where Jan Whitney vanished in November. His current job was in Halsey, only six miles from the body sites in the long time.

And of course, when Karen's sprinkler disappeared from Meyer and Frank on March 27th, Brutos lived just a few blocks away. And this motherfucker was an electrician. A detective named Jerry Frazier now makes contact again with the, uh, uh, Jare Bear, casually engaging him in conversation outside his house on the center street.

Brutos doesn't seem nervous. Show us, Frazier the garage, dark room, Frazier makes a mental note to tell Stovol about the ropes, the knots, the hook and the ceiling. Jare also talks vaguely about some problems, won't specify what they are. When Frazier returns to Salem Police headquarters and reports to Stovol, he's more suspicious of Brutos now, and they think they found their man. Stovol Frazier, Greg Ginter, another member of the team drive back to the center street to talk more with Jair Bear. The man Stovall saw surprises him. He expected a beefy,

muscular criminal and athlete, but instead he sees a grown up version of the kind of kid who got pick-last and dodgeball. He expected some kind of alpha male and said he sees a creepy dude who looked like he sat alone. He went into the bar the entire night watching other people have fun. They have a quick chat. Stovall studies Bruno's his speech patterns, his mannerisms, the way he moves and walks. He also asked about his cars. Since Leanne Bromley said he was driving a sports car when he tried to abduct her.

Well, Bruno submits, he sometimes drove his friends, Carmen Gia. The investigators asked if they could have another look around the garage. It looked like anybody's garage divided by some plywood in the smaller rooms, except that Frazier and Stovall notes some weights hanging from a rope. Notes instantly reminiscent of the knots, or excuse me, not the notes, the knots, instantly reminiscent of the knots that have bound the auto parts to the dead girl's bodies. The rope was a quarter inch. There was some nylon cords.

It looked to be about 3'16ths of an inch. Brutos offered the detectives a knot, Said they could take it since they were so interested. Once they leave the property, they immediately seek out Leanne Brumley, the 15-year-old who had fought, you know, this guy off a few weeks earlier. They show her pictures of some men, Jerry's pictures among them, asked her to point out the man who tried to kidnap her,

and she immediately points to Brudos. They know he's the killer. But before arresting the detectives, want real evidence. They know he's the killer. But before arresting the detectives want real evidence, they want an airtight case. Meanwhile, Brutos now finally get nervous. He calls Salem attorney Dale Drake and makes an appointment for the following day, May 27th. At that appointment, Jerry tells Drake he's having some problems with the police. He'd like Drake to check it out and Drake agrees. Meanwhile, detectives are busy trying to get a warrant to search Brutos' place. And while they wait, they don't let him out of their sight. Cars follow him as he drives down I think it's a great thing to be able to do. I think it's a great thing to do. I think it's a great thing to do. I think it's a great thing to do. I think it's a great thing to do.

I think it's a great thing to do. I think it's a great thing to do. I think it's a great thing to do. I think it's a great thing to do. I think it's a great thing to do. I think it's a great thing to do. I think it's a great thing to do. I think it's a great thing to do.

I think it's a great thing to do. I think it's a great thing to do. I think it's a great thing to do. I think it's a great thing to do. I think it's a great thing to do. I think it's a great thing to do. I think it's a great thing to do. I think it's a great thing to do.

I think it's a great thing to do. I think it's a great thing to do. I think it's a great thing to do. I think it's a great thing to do. I think it's a great thing to do. I think it's a great thing to do. I think it's a great thing to do. I think it's a great thing to do. with a search warrant for his two vehicles. Bruto signs a Miranda Wright's car with the bland expression on his face. Seems like he feels confident. The Dastation Wagon will be spotless. Helping this confidence, the car had clearly just been very thoroughly washed.

It's still damp. Jerry has an explanation for that. He knows it looks suspicious, but he said, you know, he took it through a car wash and his little boy accidentally rolled down the window. Ha, what do you do? Kids, am I right? Later, Bruto's will confide in Frazier.

I don't think you got anything out of the car. There's kind of a link missing, half of you do with the car, but I wasn't worried about it. I just felt like I was involved. There was no doubt in my mind until you compared the ropes. If I knew you were going to do that, I would have gotten rid of the rope.

So weird for him to say, and this is after he confessed to the crimes when this quote was given, I just felt like I wasn't involved. Like, what? Like some weird fucking mental trick where he's told himself not into it and then just believed himself. They searched in process in 1964 Carmen Gia as well, but find no compelling evidence to arrest him. Despite that two days later, Friday evening, May 30th, 1969, stole all in another detective gene doctery, leaves Salem for Corvallis with a Marion County District Court arrest warrant, charging Gary Brutos with assault while arm

with the dangerous weapon in the Lee and Bromley case. Right? The girl who I did him, but then a five or five PM as they make the way to the destination, the stakeout team radios that Brutos, the family, had left and were heading north on the I five freeway. Darcy is driving right through Salem, continues north through Portland. They follow, right? There's no time to wait. It's only 250 miles to the Canadian border.

And now one car pulls Brutos over, right? They've turned on the lights. Darcy sees it, pulls the car over at 7.28 p.m. Dontory approaches from one side, Stovall, BJ Miller from the other. They see the worried looking woman behind the wheel, the little boy and girl in the front seat. My Jerry's in the back, hiding under a blanket. Don'try reads him the right, some Miranda card, put him in their car, drive him to the Salem City Police Station where he's booked, photographed and committed to jail.

While being processed, when Brutos strips to change into jail, cover all, detectives see his wearing sheer panties. Brutos blushes, explains that he has sensitive skin. Yeah, that's it. Sensitive skin. Totally. Uh, they don't say anything. Not to him at least.

And this is 1969. I'm sure they said plenty of shit to each other in private. But in front of him, they just log with the C in their notes as possible evidence. Also log a photo they'd found tucked in Brutos's wallet is a tiny photograph of a naked lady, a rectangle, man, uh, measuring just one inch by one and a half inches. It looked as though it was a Polaroid that had been trimmed down from its original size, the head and the feet had been cut out of the picture. And obviously that is creepiest fuck. And they recognize it could be a photo of one of the victims. They can make out a serious craftsman tool chest behind the girl.

Bruto's meanwhile called his attorney Dale Drake asked that he come to jail. Drake ends up staying the night next to his client. Bruto still seems convinced that the police could not pin the murders on him. He begs his attorney that his IQ had, oh no, it's not begs, brags. He brags his attorney that has IQ had been tested at 166. Even though that never happened, it was actually 105, we've been different. And he's confident he will outsmart any detective who interrogates him. But not smarter than Jim Stovall, motherfucker.

Stovall sees how cocky Brutosis right away and he plays into it. This is so great. Stovall asks only the easiest questions. Brutosis full name, is address, date of birth. Stovall wants to present himself as not being real smart. Well, I asked his wife's name, employment history,

vehicles available to him. It seems like an interview for a new job. He never puts words in Jerry's mouth, acts super friendly. He acts like he likes Jerry, wise mastermind Jerry. He acts like he's so much smarter than he is. He acts like he could use Jerry's help

to find the real killer. Let's find the real killer together and get you out of here, bud. It's a puzzle he told Brutos. How something like this, all of this could have developed. So many women missing. It's very complex. It shows a lot of planning. Do you have any theories?

Any way to make sense of this? Brutos says that his attorney told him he shouldn't have answered that. After a few more questions, the first interrogation was over, or he doesn't answer this one. Bruto smiles as he leaves thinking he is one, and that is exactly what Stovall wanted him to think. Now with newfound confidence. I'm sorry, I'm sniffing occasionally.

Fucking pollen. Now with newfound confidence. Bruto says he wanted to talk just a few hours later. Tell Stovall that he doesn't like his cell. It cell, it was a closet, like a closet, he said. He probably had a little PTSD. You know how long I had to fucking sleep in a shed? Stovall listens to his complaints, pretends to commiserate, acts like he wants to help his buddy.

He starts chitchat and small talk. He talk off and on for three days. And slowly Stovall gets more and more information that links Brutos by his own admission to the locations the women had gone missing on the exact days they had gone missing. He had the means, he had the opportunity, what's the motives? That was becoming clear to Stovall. Whenever Brutos spoke of his mother, it was with obvious hatred.

And an undercurrent of hatred was there when he talked about any woman except his wife, Darcy. And where was Darcy now? At home and to stay to shock. She thought they had been heading to Portland on a holiday weekend with friends when they left and the police were following them. She wanted why police would follow them halfway to Portland

and stop them on the freeway for something like possession of a weapon, which was the reason that Jerry had given her for the arrest. Then Jerry called her from jail asking her to go into his workshop, the one he normally locked her out of. He told her he needed her to burn a box of clothes out there and a box of photos. And then Darcy to her credit won't do it.

She calls Dale Drake, the attorney who tells her to his credit, don't destroy anything that might be considered evidence. Instead she takes her children to Corvallis to stay with her parents. Back at jail, Brutos fucks up in another conversation with Stovol. He asked the detective, how would you know if I did it? Stovall said that they had things that they knew and things that there were things that he knew as in Brutus. Brutus wanted to know what kind of things Stovall slightly mentioned clothing Brutus asked him what kind of clothing Stovall hence clothing is seen Not a place. You must mean the bra, Jerry said

Stovall tried not to let his excitement show, right? The oversized black bra on Karen Sprinkler's body was something only the killer would know about other than investigators never released to the public. Sova wanted Jerry to give him more so they kept talking. He asked Jerry about the young woman at the college he met up with for a date. Jerry said, she wasn't his type. So yes, what is your type? He says, women who dress nicely and wear high-heeled shoes, I like shoes. Still, I'll pretend to agree, acted like he loves shoes too. I mean, what do you do on some level?

Immediately, Bruto's gets excited. There's a new light in his eyes, and now he confesses, I collect shoes. Still, I'll ask him where he gets his shoes, and now Bruto's begins to brag, like a fucking moron. It was like that dumb motherfucker forgot he was talking to a detective investigating him for murders. He acted like he was talking to an old buddy. He could trust to keep secrets. And he tells his old buddy, but not his old buddy, that he steals shoes from women and also underwear from clotheslines or inside their houses. He mentions one woman, a young lady in Portland that he had stalked for a day before sneaking into her apartment, the woman he choked out and then raped, dude, just confess to a break-in in assault, right? That

they don't even know about. Stubborn asked that the black brawl found on the body of Karen Sprinker was stolen. And Brutos says obliviously, no, that was different. The one we were talking about was wide. It caught my attention on the clothesline in Portland a couple years ago and I took it. Brutos had now just as good as confessed to the murder of Karen Sprinker. You know, he said he'd stolen the brawl that she was founded and it just keeps talking like he's not aware he's confessing. When Stolval mentions Portland, Brutos is almost too eager to tell him about a young encyclopedia saleswoman named Linda who stopped by his house. He confessed that he fucking hit on the head of the two by four and then choked her to death. Now

he had just obviously admitted to a murder. Jim Stolval accepted calmly. That's even flinch. When Brutos tells him he cut off Linda's foot, as he speaks about his crimes, Jerry gets more and more cocky. He says he's pulled off abductions that have baffled hundreds of police officers for years. He seemed proud to be able to lay out the details of his plans.

He admitted to seeing Jen with his car broken down on the freeway. Then he told the story of how he'd gotten her back to his place, killed her, kept her, hid her, even as the cops came by. It was clear to Stovall that there was a pattern of escalation. Brutos told Jim about his bus and tortured dungeon plan, even asked Stovall if he'd be interested in driving the bus.

He said, quote, Jim, we could be a team. You drive the bus, make the women feel safe. I go out, I bump on the head, but I don't know, a nice thing or something. I'll wear some capri pants with some gifts so I can run fast and chase them down. I drag them back, hand them to you, you stack them in the bus, we drive them to our layer where I will give you first crack at all the girls, after they're dead and frozen in our big freezer. And you can thaw them out, whatever you want, you can do whatever you want, but you have to put them back.

You have to put them back how I pose them, that's important. You gotta make sure that we're in the right shoes. I get very mad when anyone messes his shoes up. It's gonna be so great. We're gonna have so much fun. Dungeon Bros forever. Uh, no, Jerry didn't tell him about the fucking bus. Dungeon Plant.

He told him just about everything else so. He straight up admitted to killing Linda Slosson, said there was no rape only dressing and undressing. Then he admitted to Necrofilia, Wajianne Whitney and the mutilation of one breast. Karen's pranker who he hadn't admitted to killing hadn't admitted to killing, but knew about the brush. She was dressed in had two breasts,

amputated, he said. Bruto described how he'd initially had his eyes on another girl, but she'd slipped out of his sight. Coming back to his car, he spotted Karen, made sure to tell Stovol, he didn't like her shoes said he grabbed her by the shoulder, pointed his fake pistol at her, force her Coming back to his car, he spotted Karen, made sure to tell Stovall, he didn't like her shoes. Said he grabbed her by the shoulder, pointed his fake pistol at her, forced her to get into the car,

then drove her home into his garage. Karen pleaded with him, saying she would do anything to live. He asked her if she'd ever been with a man before, she said she had not. Also said she was on her period. Brutos told Stovall now that he raped her, said he took her into the house to use the bathroom when he was done.

Back in the garage, he photographed her, took some pics of her in clothes, some in her underwear, some nude, some with underwear from his collection, then tied her hands behind her, put a rope around her neck, attach it to a pulley on the ceiling, tighten the rope,

ask her if it was too tight, and when she said it was, he tightened it more. She gave a small kick and then she died. Once again, Stovall tries not to say anything or to do anything that shows what he's thinking. He's pretending to be this psycho's buddy and Jerry keeps talking. And really he wants to fucking reach across the table and just fucking back to guys brains. Bruno says that he went out back later, had sex with sprinklers corpse,

says he cut off both breasts to make plastic molds, said they turned out a little better than the girl from the freeway, but they still weren't how he wanted them. He's talking about this shit like someone would talk about, I don't know, losing their virginity following prom in high school or like they would talk about their favorite, you know, baseball team with passion and excitement, right? Sense of nostalgia, but no sense of how fucked up all this is. He said he waited until his wife and kids had gone to bed, then took off about two in the morning for the long-time river,

waited down Sprinkle's body with a cylinder head. At this point, there was a break in the interrogation, Bruto seemed pleased with himself. I don't know why. Now he winds some more about his cell and food, asked for his wife and his attorney, like he's running the place, like they're still gonna let him go.

Stovah goes along with all this, he knows still acting like he's his buddy. He got almost everything from him now, but he wanted a confession to lend a Sally's murder. And two hours later, he gets it. After Stovall got Bruto some food, he asked for Jerry confessed that he had tried to abduct Sharon Wood, then tried to kidnap Lee and the next day. He's just admitting to everything. Stovall compliments him on his plans. Bruto said that those plans were nothing. Oh, his next one was a doozy. He said he had an idea to buy a police badge at the Lloyd Center to make abductions easier.

It was a toy, but he said it looked real. In the parking lot, he saw a young woman with her arms full of packages, Linda Sally. He made her think she was under arrest. Brought her back to his house where he tied her up left her in the garage. While she was tied up, he says he went in the house and just had dinner with the fam. When he goes back, Lynn had loosened her rope with a little bit of pride in his voice. Bruto's now said, she was just waiting for me, I guess. And then he explains that she tried to fight him off. He grabbed another strap, got it around her neck, pulled it tight when she asked, what are you, why are you doing this to me? As she went limp, he put her on the floor, got on top of her, started to rape her. He tells the detective he wanted to be inside of her while she died.

Fuck that is extra dark. Stovall still acting like this is all just normal dudes being dudes just shooting the shit to keep this animal talking. Bruto says he then hung her up by her neck from a hook in the ceiling, put two needles in her ribs and attached electric cords. He wanted to pull off some fucking Frankenstein shit. He wanted to electrocute her to see if he could make her body move around like a zombie sex doll.

Reminds me of Jeffrey Dahmer here. The electricity did not cause her body to convulsed like he'd hoped it just burned her skin. He keeps her corpse there one day, one night, has sex with her dead body multiple times. Since he didn't like her breasts, he tried to mold her some new breasts that were more to his taste like she was a fucking sex doll. He could modify, but said he couldn't get the epoxy to work right. Wouldn't stick to her chest the way he wanted.

Then he ties an overdrive unit to her and tosses her in the long time. And now finally, Stovall has all of his confessions and he doesn't have to pretend to be that pile of shit's buddy anymore, right? And he fucking reaches across the table and he literally fucking collapses the guy's skull fucking all over. He's dead. We're good. No, but you know, he's got everything he needs.

This guy is going to go to prison forever. So hail Jim stove all fucking badass detective. June 2nd 1969, Marion County, district attorney, Gary Gortmaker now announces that Jerome Henry Brudos has been charged with first degree murder in the death of Karen Sprinker. Meanwhile, detectives work to verify Brudos' story about the rape in Portland in 1967. His victim, Joyce Lynn Castle, does come forward and they do that. With his confessions, there's now a probable cause for a search warrant for his home and garage. Search warrant is issued the next day, detectives get to work. They think they know what they're looking for, right?

Pictures, underwear, shoes, auto parts, copper wire rope, the hook and the workshop ceiling, the pulley system, a leather postal strap, possessions belonging to the victims, and possibly even molds made from victims' breasts. And they find all of that. Unlike what Jerry thought Darcy had gotten rid of nothing. Most debritos' collections in the attic, they find 40 pairs of high heel shoes. 40 in sizes from four to 10,

white shoes, brown shoes, red shoes, calf, suede, straw, patent leather, open-toed sandals, pumps. All of them slightly worn, some of them curved to the shape of the original owner's feet. And they also found a lot of undergarments. They find 15 braziers, fancy bras of lace and satin and sheer black nylon, more utilitarian bras of cotton, bras range and size from 38 to 38D. Some still smelled faintly perfume, some freshly laundered.

They find dozens of girdles, lacy slips and panties. They find the breast molds, resin head coat of the human flesh, making an eerily accurate skin like texture. They find glossy pictures so many pictures Photos of the bodies of Jan Whitney Karen's Prinker and more Karen was alive when some of the pictures were taken you can see her staring mutely into the camera It's almost impossible to describe the expression on her face. It was fear, but also a kind of resignation As if she had detached herself from the proceedings as if her essence was gone and only her body

was left to submit to the demands of the man behind the camera. I've seen some of these pics and so sad. She looks like she knew what was going to happen to her, thought it was inevitable, just no use in fighting it. One photo show Jan Whitney's body suspended from the ceiling, her face was obscured by a black hood. It was a black three ring binder full of more photos. You know, some of them are loose.

There's these binders variations on the other pictures. Many of the photos are only of nude female torso. She took scissors and fucking cut the heads out of the pictures. The blue shag rug on the workshop floor is in most of the pictures proving the murders had taken place there. And one picture is especially damning. Shows a girl's body wearing a black lace slip and panties with garters, hung suspended from the ceiling,

the camera is angled to her crotch and reflected in a mirror on the floor. And in the mirror also is Jerry Brudos' fucking face, full of lust. They clear the property after changing the locks, leave it cordoned off with ropes and signs that forbid trespassing, all the physical evidence found is removed to the state crime lab for testing and evaluation. They are sick and but satisfied. This passing, all the physical evidence found is removed to the state crime lab for testing and evaluation. They are sick and but satisfied. There was no way Brutos could go back on his confession now.

That stupid fuck it for, you know, photographed himself in the very act of killing. Brutos will be a rain June 4th, 1969 now. He was still charged with only one murder, Karen's prankers, but charges in the Whitney and Sally cases will be filed within a week. Jerry pleaded not guilty by reason of insanity. According to the McNon rule, the legal guideline in most states in America, a defendant must be proved to have been unable to determine the nature and consequences of their criminal acts at the time of the commission of the crime to make them not guilty by reason of insanity.

In layman's terms, had Jerry Bruto's known the difference between right and wrong when he killed his victims. An easy way to disprove Jerry's claim was that he had taken significant preparations to hide the crime from plain sight, meaning he knew they were wrong. But to the average listener, especially someone living in 1969 before the term serial killer was even coined, the details of his crime for so perverse that it would be hard for some to believe he was indeed same. Now seven different psychiatrists interview Brutos separately and present their conclusions to the court. Doctors George R. Suckow, Gerhard Hogan, Erhagen, Roger Smith, Guy Pavareš, Evor Campbell, Colin Slade, and Howard Dewey examine the defendant. And they find that Brutos characterize himself as a loner and yet seemed quite affable and talkative. He

spoke with grandiosity and immaturity, peppered his conversation with unnecessary details. As to describe the sort of person he was, Jerry Brudos told them, I don't like to be told what to do. I live in a world full of people, but I feel all alone. I don't know if I knew right from wrong at the time of the death of those girls, but I know I didn't think about it. The thing that bothers me most right now is that I'm stuck here. And that means I can't know if I knew right from wrong at the time of the deaths of those girls, but I know I didn't think about it. The thing that bothers me most right now is that I'm stuck here and that means I can't maneuver or work things out for myself. Before this I could always control things and plot out what moves I wanted to make.

Man, such brutal honesty. You know what really upsets me about all this? That I'm not getting away with it. That fucking pisses me off. On an emotional level of response, he seemed quite normal, except when he talked of the deaths of his victims, he showed zero emotion, zero remorse. He recited his litany of murders,

you know, time and time again for each psychiatrist, each psychologist, and they all sought. He was not sorry, his victims were dead. Their lives meaningless to him. Brutosis dislike, his mom was a parent to all the men who examined him. He loved women's clothing, but he declared he had never, ever worn his mom's clothing.

Never thought of it. Also, he made a point to tell all of the, her shoes were ugly. And another thing, my mom wore fucking ugly shoes. How about that? What's that supposed to do to a boy's head? It makes me wonder, was he attracted to his mom? Why feel the need to even sail that? Duff he protests too much.

It was clear that hatred for his mom and fluent just about all of his thinking, as well as a secondary hatred for women in general except Darcy. She won't dress up like other women do, and that makes me feel sorry for myself. He said about Darcy, now with tears in his eyes. But that's the only thing wrong with her. A lovely going time he cries

is when he's talking about how his wife won't dress up as much as he wants. Ah yeah, fucking kill his girls, whatever. My wife, she won't, how are you gonna make heels? I want to, where? When he talked to a killing the four young women, his voice was flat and precise. I stuffed a black bra with paper because she was bleeding so much I didn't want to get blood in my car.

Her breast had pale pink nipples and they didn't show up well so I couldn't take pictures. I couldn't get a good cast of them so I threw them away. Then I threw in the river. I had sex with her and strangled her at the same time with the postal strap. And again, never once said he feels bad for victims. Says he did have a plan for himself. He wanted treatment at a hospital. Afterwards, he said he was going to become a useful member of society and raise his kids. He still thinks at this point, he is going to get away with everything.

And I guess why wouldn't he, right? He did get away with the short hospital stay. When he got in cop for beating the shit out of that girl he picked up in his car when he was 17. When he'd also gotten coped for making the neighbor girls trip at knife point for nude photos. You know, it just goes to the hospital for a little bit less than a year and then he's back out and free to live his life. Well, Jerry Briegos now given an electro in cephalograph to determine if his bizarre fantasies

are result of, are the result of brain damage and he tests normal and brain function. Test above average intelligence and cognitive thinking. He is not insane under the law. Fully capable of participating in his defense. Dr. George R. Sukow examining Jerry Brudos for the state says, overall, this man describes a history going back to childhood of progressively increasing assaults upon young females, starting with fetishism for shoes and undergarments in very early childhood. One is reminded the person who writes bad checks and does not get caught and then continues,

getting worse and worse because no one draws a line showing him where appropriate behavior begins. In my opinion, Mr. Brutos has been aware of the nature and consequences of his actions on each and every crime of which we spoke and Further, he has been aware that they were wrong in the view of others It is further my opinion that he isn't that he is an extremely dangerous person to young females when not in confinement And finally it is my opinion that he shows little evidence of treatability if any for his personality disorder

So you know a diagnosis of this guy is dangerously fucking insane and she'd be fucking locked in a shed forever. Meanwhile, what's going on with Darcy and the kids? Well, Jerry wanted them to visit him all the time. Darcy initially did what he wanted and went to see him. He seemed same as ever, which was almost worse than if he'd been devastated and ashamed. Darcy was also having constant nightmares eventually a little while after he confessed she refuses to take the kids to see him again and then moves out of their house on

center street. June 26, 1969, the subpoenas go out for the preliminary hearing before Jerry Brutos was to stand trial. The initial list of witnesses included Dr. Robert Pacheco, the Salem Dentist, who had identified Karen Sprinkers's body from dental X-rays, Salem policeman, lieutenant L. Wood, hap-huate, Sergeant Jim Stovall, detective Jerry Frazier, state policeman, lieutenant gene, doctrine, and more. Brutus lawyers know that the insanity plea is not going to hold up. Not a single psychiatrist or psychologist is going to testify. He's insane.

Right. That's out of the picture now. He's not going to be found innocent. There's too much evidence against him. They explained to him that he's a take a fucking deal. And so he changes his plea to guilty June 27th, 1969. And he does take a deal to avoid a costly trial. In the murder of Karen Sprinker, he ascends to life in the murder of Jan Whitney, also sent to life. And in the murder of Linda Sally sent to life with good behavior, a life from Oregon can expect to be out in about 12 years. Jerry Brudos, you know, under the

burden of three consecutive life sentences, if he were to serve them all, even with good behavior credits, would not be eligible until 36 years had passed when he was 66 years old. And now let's pivot to someone else who'll be charged for some of what Jerry did as wife Darcy. And he was only not charged with four murders because they didn't have quite enough physical evidence on the fourth murder because they hadn't found the body. Some of the police department felt that Darcy had to have helped Jerry, committee, at least some of the murders or known about them and not report of them. Jim motherfucking Stovall did not think so, but he's in the minority. Stovall sees how Darcy

has moved from her domineering father's house and her domineering husbands and since she had no GED, no college degree, never worked a job. When things with Jerry started to get rough, she's simply trying to put them out of her mind because she didn't know what else she was going to do. On July 17th, Jim Stolval, Detective BJ Miller, accompanied by Salem Police Detective, Marilyn DeSofi. Drive to the home with Darcy's parents in Corvallis. The grand parents have had custody of Megan now seven in Jason 23 months for several weeks. And now the kids are replaced at least temporarily

under the custody of Oregon State Children's Services Division. Darcy is shocked that her kids have been taken from her. She hires Salem attorney Charles Bert and Richard Ciderman. Yeah, Dick, we got one to represent her and find out why. The reason will become clear on August 7, 1969. Dick Siderman called Darcy, told her that she was being charged with first degree murder, 18 and a betting Jerome Brutos in the murder of Karen Sprinker. She's arranged for a reigned four hours later. She leaves the arrangement, walking past her crowd of journalists,

reporters describe her and print later as emotionless, calm, and solid. The scriptors that did not make her seem innocent and she is taken to jail. Her trial will begin in September of 1969. Judge Haye will preside. The opposing attorneys are well matched, perhaps the most outstanding criminal lawyers in Marion County. For the state, Gary D. Gortmaker, tall, confident, is prematurely silver hair perfectly cut, and almost constant winner in court.

For the defense Charlie Bert, a man of short stature, stooped from childhood polio, but a man who could hold his own in court. The 125 court spectators who got seats inside will watch Darcy Brudos appear in her white blouse and neat dark suit. Her short hair tassled looking very young and very frightened. She's only 24. It will take two and a half days to select a jury. Eight women and four men since many in the area had already heard about Jerry Brudos and formulated ideas about his innocence or guilt. District Attorney Gortmaker then rises to make his opening remarks for the jury. Gortmaker assured the jury that he would prove that Darcy had helped her husband when he killed Karen's Brinker. He said he would produce an eyewitness who'd

seen Darcy assist Brudos, enforcing a person wrapped in a blanket into their home. Charlie Burt spoke next. He stressed that Darcy had no reason at all to aid her husband. He pointed out that Darcy had refused to destroy evidence, and actually saved physical evidence for the police to find. On the first morning of the trial, little Megan Brutos is called in to the court so she so the judge Hake can determine if she's a competent witness or not. Darcy had not seen her daughter in two months. Judge Haye asked Megan some questions. She says she can answer truthfully, but when she turns to her mom, she starts to cry.

And so does Darcy. So fucking sad. Still Megan is accepted as a potential witness against her mom poor kid and poor Darcy. On Thursday morning of 10th, 25th, the prosecution's case begins. Lieutenant Robert W. Pinnick of the State Crime Lab takes a stand to identify clothing removed from Karen Sprinkler's body. Talks about how her breasts had been cut off, body weighted down with an engine. For the rest of the afternoon, Darcy watches as almost all of Jerry's collection of shoes

clothing and workshop tools are introduced into evidence. The mold of the breasts, which Pinnick emphasized was kept in the home, is introduced. But the star piece of evidence is a woman named Edna Beechum, a casual acquaintance of Darcy's. Edna said she had been at her sister's house on March 27th, her sister's house butted up against the Brutos home. She said, I was looking out the dining room window about 1.30 pm. I saw Mr. Brutos. He was pushing something, someone, with a blanket around them, from the garage toward the kitchen door. The kitchen door was open.

There were three cement steps that went up to the porch. It's kind of a cement platform there. Mrs. Brutos was standing there on the porch part. The girl tried to jerk away, but Mrs. Brutos helped Mr. Brutos push the person in the blanket into the house. Right, and that testimony seems so damning. But now it was time for cross-examination and what happens next shows why cross-examination is so fucking important.

Charlie Byrd stands up, walks to the front of the room, asks Edna how she could have possibly seen that the girl had a gag in her mouth. If there was a blanket over her, like she'd also said. Edna says, well, there was an opening. Bert no, I asked what color the blanket was. Edna can't remember. Bert asks how she knew the person was a girl. Well, Edna said she could see legs and shoes, but then when I asked what color the shoes were, I don't know.

And also could remember what Jerry or Darcy were wearing. And now Bert goes in for the kill. He says, how is it Mrs. Beechham that you could see the Brudos home so clearly given that there is a tall, evergreen hedge between that property and your sister's property? Yeah, Edna, you fucking weasel. How do you explain that? He let her walk right into all this. From where she said she was standing, it was literally impossible to see what she said she saw. She had for reasons unknown, just made all this shit up. What a piece of shit.

Edna throws her left hand up dramatically when she's confronted with this and says, quote, as God is above, I sought. Fuck you, Edna, you got to be bitch. Bert had photos taken from Edna's sister's living room to prove that she couldn't see shit. Wasn't possible. The Edna had seen through the branches like she claimed. Evergreen trees don't lose their leaves. They were nice and thick. Right? The hedge was nice and thick thick the next witness was young Megan Brudos Just was attorney Gort maker begins to ask questions Megan did your mommy and daddy tell you not to tell anybody what happened in the workshop? I can't remember

Did you're crying coming from the workshop a couple times that day that day last March? I can't remember Did you meet a girl about the time of spring vacation named Karen that your daddy took into the workshop while your mother was home? Yes, right? Looks bad. But the rest of the questions Megan simply replies again she can't remember. And then Bert will cross examine her asking only one question. Megan did Sarge and Stovall show you some pictures of girls big girls and did he ask you if you knew any of them? If you recognize them, yes. The girl we're asking about, the girl named Karen was in those pictures.

Did you tell Stargian Soval that you had seen her? No. By the looks of them, I don't know anybody in those pictures. Boom, motherfucker, enough with the witch hunt. Alright, kid messed up. Now it's time for the defense's witnesses to testify. Everyone from Jerry's brother, Larry, to a family Jerry, a family friend, Jerry's or fucking goddammit to Jerry's brother Larry to family Jerry, family friend Jerry's or fucking god damn it to Jerry's family friend. Ned Rawls will testify and many of Darcy's friends

and other family members. Darcy Brutosis, girlfriend, Sherry, Doris, Ginny, Baron, all sisters and laws. Testify that during the months of February and March 1969 Darcy spent at least four days a week in their homes from early morning until just before supper. During that period, Jerry had telephone frequently to check on Darcy's whereabouts. She was never allowed to go home without calling him first. Sherry Baron testified. She just couldn't walk in on him. So that helps her.

None of them could say exactly where she was on March 27th, though. Psychiatrist named Dr. Egor Campbell now testifies and characterizes Darcy as essentially a normal woman, hardly a dangerous person, highly unlikely to be motivated to kill or help another killer human being. Darcy Brudos will take the stand herself on September 30th, testifies about how her marriage was good at first, but then things started to get rough, so she started to spend most days away from the home. She testified how she was not allowed to go out into Jerry's workshop, had to use the intercom, told the Jerry the Jerry's excuse was that she would ruin his photo processing stuff if she came

in with that warning. She would also describe where she was on March 27th. She said that Jerry had demanded that she dig him what he called a giant freezer filled fucked-ungeon torture layer. Well, he went out and bought a used bus. He handed her a shovel, wanted to get the job done by sundown, and she better never take off her heels while she was digging. No, she said that day was a Thursday. I had been at Ginny Barons from about nine or nine thirty. I planned to stay all day, but Jerry called about to suggested that we drive to Corvallis to see my parents.

I went home and I think we left for Corvallis around three. But when we got to my parents, Jerry dropped us off and said he had to see friends and we'd be back for supper. He didn't come back for supper at all. I remember that because my mother had fixed extra food for him and he didn't even come or call to say he'd be late. He finally showed up around nine and he had one of his bad migraine headaches. Well, her parents will testify the Darcy's telling the truth here. And then a detective will testify who said that it would have been easy for Jerry to pick up the engine and Karen's sprinkler's body alone in that time frame. But the state was not done with Darcy. They played one last card. They showed the jury pictures of Darcy naked wearing the same pumps

that Karen Sprinkler wore in her pictures. Darcy said she didn't recognize those shoes and now she looks like a liar. October 2nd 1969 closing closing arguments are made, and now after four hours of deliberation, the jury reads their verdict, correct, not guilty. Darcy will now divorce Jerry quickly and have her kids back with her by August of 1970. Meanwhile, Jerry, not doing so well at Oregon State Penitentiary, or his prisoner, number three, three, two, eight, four. He's ostracized by fellow inmates who had heard about the gruesome killings. He has no appetite and is slimmed down to an emaciated looking 150 pounds. And he's also getting attacked. Oh, fuck yeah. August 13th, 1969, someone slams a bucket of water into his head,

sending him to the infirmary. Later attacks will be worse. Can't wait to share him. He began to study law books available to him, available to him in prison. Confident, he will find a way to get out through his incredible intelligence and clever use of legal procedure. Spoiler alert, his future legal proceedings will be laughable failures. And this is a new one. This dude also had piles of women's shoe catalogs in his cell. He wrote to major shoe companies asking for them and openly acknowledged to guards that they were his substitute for porn. All right, just can't stop with shoes. Whatever.

Now this crazy fuck will submit a petition of appeals to the Supreme Court of the state of Oregon, September of 1970. He claimed complete innocence of his crimes said the state was out to get him. Check out an excerpt from this geniuses petition. Marion County in that respect makes the communist countries and their methods look like Mickey Mouse Club. For the defendant has the proof and yet the Marion County courts are concerned about a conviction only and can care less that the victim of this whole thing is in fact innocent.

It can be seen from exhibit two. Clearly shows that this is in fact the truth. Yet everybody says, I sincerely doubt that it happened, yet nobody bothered to check a plain and simple fact. There is a multitude of witnesses and evidence to substantiate this along with his personal testimony. Holy shit, I had to sit with this one for a second to figure out what he was trying to say.

Dude misspelled about 30% of the words. I had to clean a lot of shit up. Random capital letters all over the fucking place. Looks like it's an 11 year old wrote it. An 11 year old who was struggling in school. Brutosis exhibit two was a statement purportedly made by a fellow prisoner, alleging that Brutosis happened treated unfairly.

And repeating Brutosis feeling that he'd been poisoned in jail. I love this. Like the court is gonna care about some other convicted felon, chiming with some, Hey Jerry was railroad bullshit Just hey, hey name's Jimmy Anderson. You can call me Jimmy Blades Jerry's a good guy no question about it. No way he could have killed anyone and that is a fact Was that good Jerry? Was that what you wanted me to say? Better give me the fucking smokes now, Piggy. I'll fucking slice you up real good

Jerry wraps up with an impassioned and emotional plea, also littered with misspellants. So I can't have to clean up so I can read it. So many extra capital letters. No one loved a capital letter more than Jerry Brudos. The real, the really terrible part is that the defendant petitioner is in fact innocent of the charges. Yet the prosecution did have such a lever against the defendant. They got confessions for cases that they didn't even have bodies for. Such threats were used that they could obtain such confessions. Yet the defense attorneys did not even question that. If one court

just one would have retained its impartiality and had attempted to seek the truth and justice, it could have been exposed. But Marion County judicial system is far out upon a limb. They fear of sawing it off themselves. Therefore, we say the court will do nothing without an order steady we must. Then we will have to try to get around that then. Okay. The position of defendant does therefore pray this honorable court will issue this writ of manandest. I'm not sure what he's even aiming at there and start to instill some form of justice in the county that the state capital is in and this type of decay can only spread if not check now.

Uh, fucking what's your bear? Come again. His appeal was obviously reject. The court dismisses whatever you were asking for there, Jerry. The court honestly, not even sure what you're talking about, but whatever it is, no. Then in the late summer of 1970, the lack of victims' bodies becomes a moot point in the case of Jan Whitney. Panickers along the, or yeah, picnicers, panickers, picnicers, some random panickers, just people

who panic constantly, some picnicers along the Willamette River at a spot somewhat below the independence bridge, saw what looked like to be a lamb's carcass caught up in branches near the shore It turned out it was what remained of Jan Whitney's body So an appeal is even less likely to be successful now and now for some really good news January 1st 1971 Jerry is treated for rectal bleeding in prison He's been brutally raped by another inmate and hail whoever that guy was I would pretend he did it for vengeance And not because he was also a depraved, sadistic maniac.

Hell of a way to kick off New Year. Also in 1971, Jerry's neck is broken in a separate attack. Fractured at the fifth cervical bone, C5, and Jerry refuses to say who did it? Snitches get stitches. His mom will also die in 1971 though, I guess, that'll be good news, so it wasn't the worst year for him. 1972, he tries to file another appeal,

saying that the dead girl in the photos was not Karen's sprinkler but someone else, and he'd been prosecuted for the wrong person. Appeal is the night. Wasn't written any more intelligently than the other shit. December of 1974, Jerry tries to convince some prison doctors that the only reason he killed these women is because he's hypoglycemic

Seriously, my god, this dude was both crazy and stupid his brain really was not working right he said that his quote low blood sugar accounted for his physical and emotional problems If he just wouldn't have had so much sugar Those women would still be alive This literally made me laugh out loud by myself when I first read about it He acted like what he did Should belong on one of those fucking Snickers commercials From a few years ago just you're not you and you're hungry

You just die you fucking big die mama. I'm a fucking corpse and then cut to someone handing him the Snickers takes a few bites Oh gosh, oh gosh dang. Oh my heck. Oh, so sorry. Did I kidnap you? Oh my goodness. Oh, I was just so hungry. Oh, the president's psychological staff, you know, they don't, they don't buy it. Uh, Jerry won't let go of the theory and he gets a hearing for it. And October 1976, he brings that dumb shit to court. And of course, his crazy appeal is quickly rejected. 1974, Jerry also loses phone privileges for being a disruptive maniac. And Darcy gets an order against having to ever bring her children to visit him again, or ever send him letters. Jerry Bear files one last appeal

to Oregon State Supreme Court, May 25, 1977, just as dumb as the others. He now argues that since his alleged crimes, we're so heinous. And since one of his own attorneys had once compared his crimes to those of Jack the Ripper and the Boston Strangler, he now put forth the premise that media coverage equated recent heinous and sensational crimes with his own crimes. And therefore, he would never get a fair appeal going forward. Does that make sense to you? It didn't make sense to

the court either who immediately rejected him acting like because his crimes were so fucked up, Oregon media would reference them when other super fucked up crimes would occur, which kept associating his name with more horrible crimes, which made it impossible for him to get a court to agree to let him go. He also insisted that the entire state of Oregon was plotted against him, and he was in fear for his life, and the court didn't fucking care. Jumped way ahead now. 1995, the Oregon State Par board votes to ban now 56-year-old

Brutus from ever being able to qualify for parole. He's still a psychopath in prison. Over a quarter century in prison had done nothing to rehabilitate him. He's human garbage. He had now served 26 years, would not begin to qualify for parole for another nine years, but they were so worried about him. He was still so dangerous, they want to get in front of the remote possibility he could be released.

Following this decision, he is now allowed an interview with the board every two years to see if they should change their mind and let him try to get parole. It will now take board action to grant Brutoso formal hearing to be considered for parole. Brutos will say that the boards, 1995 decision, that their decision to ban him, from parole consideration was an act of vengeance and was out to get him. Jerry's final bid to try and be considered for parole

rejected, August 19th, 2005. He tells the parole board before the board, whatever, that he's recovering from colon cancer and pursuing get this, a master's degree in counseling. Imagine getting mental health advice from Dr. Brudos. You know I feel depressed on you. You don't have a fuck done you. No bush full of babes. You can tie up how you want and make more to sexes, clothes and shoes for you. Choke him out and stick him in a freezer. You don't even medicine.

You got to grab some lady from a parking garage and take her home and tie her up. Now for the best news, this timeline has to offer. March 28, 2006, 510 AM, super creep Jerome Henry Brudos, fucking former sheddweller dies alone inside the Oregon State Penitentiary at the age of 67, never once expressed an ounce of remorse for his crimes, never apologized to his victims' families, played the victim himself until the bitter end. When Sidney, Elliot Aurora, Jan Whitney's sister, learned of his death, she said, Good job, soldier. You made it back. Barely. Jerry Brudos, what a disgusting piece of shit. Though we've covered so many killers here now, it is still always shocking to research

somebody who is so deeply sexually motivated, so intensely focused on their own pleasure that they will take human lives to satisfy their sexual desires. So like the height of selfishness. Is there any lesson we can take away from this guy's story? I think so. I think careful with your fantasies.

Don't let them escalate to the point that somebody else has to be your sex slave, has to suffer to fulfill them. Don't let your sexate to the point that somebody else has to be your sex slave, has to suffer to fulfill them. Don't let your sex fantasies consume you. And how about that's it for this week. Let's get away from this shed dweller and head into today's Top 5 takeaways. Time suck, top 5 takeaways! Number one Jerome Jerry Brudos murdered four women in Oregon in 1968 and 1969

beginning with Linda Slaussen a traveling encyclopedia saleswoman. He would go into murder Jan Susan Whitney a 23-year-old college student at the University of Oregon Karen Sprinker a 19-year-old college student and also Linda Don Sally. Number two how about that bus and dungeon plan? That shit felt like a realistic possibility to Jerry. Dude wanted to find some place where he could set up what he would call an underground butcher shop that would have cells where he could keep captives and a huge freezer room where he could freeze the bodies of women once he killed them. And he'd bring women to this place by the literal bus load.

He'd get them all set up in their cages and he would choose which ones he wanted for his pleasure. He would take them out, rape them, maybe also shoot them, shoot them stab them torture them and no one will be the wiser Number three Jerry was eventually caught due to his You know new method of trying to find more victims calling dorm rooms and asking girls out on dates A female student that went on one of the blind dates gave the police a description of Jerry managed to lure him You know to her common room where Brutus was then interviewed by police officers who would ultimately end up arresting him because of this meeting. Number four, all of his murders might have been avoided.

Had people not treated Jerry like a nuisance after his attack on a 17-year-old girl in 1956. Even though police figured out that Jerry had at that point been stealing undergarments for years and even had attacked another girl and taken photos of her, he was committed to Oregon State Hospital and released in less than a year. Hospital staff seemed to take more of a, ah, boys will be boys. Men's holiday with him. Instead of this motherfucker is really dangerous. And we need to at least keep tabs on him if we can't lock him up forever.

Number five, new info. We talked about how Jerry Brudos was the inspiration, along with some other serial killers for the silence of the Lambs Buffalo Bill. Let's learn a bit more about arguably the best serial killer movie ever made. The Silence of the Lambs was only the third film to ever win all of the big five Oscars, Best Picture, Actor, Actress, Director, and Screenplay. Also Gene Hackman, which originally supposed to play Dr. Hannibal Lecter, instead of Anthony Hopkins, I truly cannot picture that, making the movie nearly as good.

Sean Connery was the next choice, but he found the script, quote, revolting. Daniel DeLewis was also considered, he would have fucking killed it. The role of course, when Anthony Hopkins who won best actor for merely 16 minutes of screen time, another record. His inspiration for Hann Balekter

came from three figures, Truman Capote, Catherine Hepburn, and Hal from 2001, a space odyssey, fucking random. Also, it was Hopkins' idea for Leclerc to wear all white. His theory was that people already have a fear of doctors and dentists who wear white in the job. One more, the FBI is definitely the hero of that movie, Claree Starling, bringing the Law of that movie, Clarice Starling bringing the being the law enforcement star,

they just see had impressed Foster with her handling of a previous death threat against her, and they had earned her respect so much so that she approached the film's director, who made sure that the FBI was portrayed, quote, in the correct way. Time. Shut up. Five take away. Jerry Brutus, the shoe fetish slayer has been sucked.

What a wild story and a little longer than some of the other true crime ones recently just because we had a lot of juicy details along with this one and didn't know which one to actually get rid of. Thank you to the Bad Magic Productions team for all the help in making time suck again. Thank you to the Queen of Bad Magic, running so many things, making time suck again. Thank you to the Queen of Bad Magic.

Running so many things, let me come in. Thanks to Tyler C, the suck ranger for producing and directing today. Thanks to Bidelixer for upkeep on the Time Suck app. Had a recent glitch. They just fixed real quick. Thanks to the art warlock for creating the merch at BadMagicMarch.com for helping run socials along with the suck ranger and a team managed by a social media strategist Ryan Handelman. Thanks to producer Sophie Evans for more kick ass research this week. And thanks to the all seen eyes moderating the cult of the curious private Facebook page, the mod squad making sure discord keeps on a smooth.

And everyone on the time suck subreddit and bad magic subreddit next week on time suck we head back to the realm of organized crime gangsters gun fights andfights and grudges, oh my except this episode, be a little different. No 1940 style gangsters and suits and fedoras, no smooth talking men discussing Gagaboo, uh, uh, Gagaboo, and the family, uh, in fact, no killing at all. Nobody even gets hurt. We're only going to talk about the organized crime of internet piracy. That's right. Downloading all those free movies those commercials said uh... you

would still car with you who's uh... who's leading this racket who are the modern day gangster behind millions of illegal streaming sites no we're not doing that maybe some day but probably not sounds like it might be kind of more we are talking about a different type of organized crime that what you would find out about it movies like godfather and good fellows

but not because it was any less bloody. We're talking whitey bulger, a follow up with the Irish mob suck we did three months ago. While the Montfayles, so families of the United States made their cultural mark in the 1950s and 60s, one man not an Italian, but of Irish descent would work towards becoming the biggest behind the scenes, crime boss in Boston. Boston organized, originating in the neighborhood of Southy.

Whitey bulger started his life of crime as a bank robber, did nine years in prison and impivoted from one off Don Dillard of the Style of Crimes to gang crimes. And I won't talk like that for the whole episode. Soon he would take over the gang, uh, then consolidate with another gang and pretty soon he would be at the top. And the twist he was working as an FBI informant almost the whole time.

And it would be his FBI contact that would inform him of pending indictments against him leading him to go in the land for a whopping 16 years. Did Whitey Bulger ever face justice? How did one man become so powerful in Boston's underworld? How did he make his fortune with the legal movie downloads before the internet existed? Maybe not the last one.

But to be sure, you don't have to check next week's episode of Time Suck. And now let's head on over to this week's Time Sucker updates. Updates, get your time sucker updates. For a stop before we get into the heavier stuff, a little levity, a super limp, soft shame cock sucker, uh, Ken H, right? Hey, suck master flash. Happy Father's Day to you and all the hot, hard father daddy's out there, especially

those in the pull to the curious father's group. I just wanted to tell you how, and that's a private Facebook group if you're new here. Now, I just wanted to tell you how you almost killed my boner yesterday or shoot me today. My wife decided to give me the father's day gift of recreating the act that made me a father in the first place. Can I get a halo, Safina? Anyway, she's on top of me and mid pump, she asks, she jokingly asks if I wanted her to call me daddy.

We'll have for this week's episode about our Kelly. And all the times he wanted to be called daddy, I started to lose my rigidity. I quickly told her no thanks and had to focus on something else to get back to form. I don't know if this counts as a comments loss and it's nobody heard what you said, but the show did lead to something potentially embarrassing. Three out of five stars wouldn't change a thing, loyal listener, Kent.

Well, thank you for the Father's Day, we since Kent's, when I got your message it was indeed coming up on Father's Day. I'm glad the daddy talk. Wrecked your boner after the art Kelly suck, need you probably good dude Imagine if you thought of Kelly and what he did and then got so much fucking harder Like the hardest you've ever been Especially when you start thinking about pissed on your lady. So good on you can't you have a you have a dick to be proud of

Now for the heavier stuff. Okay, a concerned sack V. Alata writes. Hi, Dan, I'm a big fan of your show and appreciate the thorough research in the comedic elements that give five stars, but now straight to the point. While listening to the latest episode about R. Kelly, something bothered me a lot. It was the ironic and disturbing fact that in the early part of the episode, you asked for donations to a local LGBT chapter. I'm sorry, but I have come across numerous pieces of evidence that suggest a sector of that movement, especially within the trans community, that is attempting

to normalize and institutionalize the sexual grooming of minors. And I'm not just referring to teenagers like the ones in our kelees episode, but preteen minors as well. I understand that someone in your position in the entertainment industry might find it difficult to take a clear stance on this issue due to the fear of significant backlash that could potentially harm your show. However, how long should we continue to tolerate these covert pedophiles in the name of inclusion? How far does it need to go until we realize that we have made a huge mistake by supporting every aspect of this insidious and demented agenda, which at this point is undeniably present, just because we have a negative view of religious people. Inclusion cannot be achieved through hate. And the fact that one side may appear bright

and colorful doesn't mean they are free from hatred and resentment. Do transgender children exist? Are they born with gender dysphoria or is gender dysphoria a result of grooming an early child abuse? Why do certain parts of the trans movement believe they should have more authority over a child's education than their own parents? We need to distinguish between freedom and debauchery because for perverts, pedophiles, and the like, they are synonymous. Until a few years ago, I fully supported gay rights,

but things changed when it appeared that some members started to get involved with inappropriate actions towards children. Now I can no longer support them because from within they prioritize maintaining a united front instead of taking action to remove sick and Proverted individuals from the movement. Anyway, I hope this provides food for thought. Have a good day. Here is a video of lactation for your enjoyment. Okay, a lot to unpack here. I don't even know if I'll be able to unpack all of it, B, but thank you for diligently presenting numerous points to discuss. Let's start with your point. We have made a huge mistake by supporting every aspect of this insidious and

dementia agenda, which at this point is undeniably present, just because we have a negative view of religious people. Okay, here's something I think is really important to understand about this issue and so many issues whenever a group, any group, is involved. When I support Pride, I don't support every single gay or trans person alive in the movement, every single thing, every one of them believes or has done, just like I don't do that with literally any other group. If I had to support every single nuance aspect of the morality and agenda of literally every member of a group to support the group at all, I would literally not support a single fucking group in the history of groups. And I don't think anyone does that. I think most of us, when we support a group, we support the gist, the spirit of the movement.

And for me, the spirit of the pride movement is about equality and equity, having a proper seat at the table, having the same rights as other citizens of the same nation. That's what I support. And we'll continue to support equal rights for those who don't harm others any more than any other groups members do in America. If we were truly worried about a group sexually harming children, having members of the group, you know, who are not kicked out for harming children We should literally destroy the Catholic Church. We should burn every fucking church to the ground

But we don't because rational people understand that a small faction a horrific evil faction of priests has tainted the name of a group of people who overall I believe and this is statistically ported, or statistically supported, are overwhelmingly good people, as good as the rest of us, are some gay or trans people grooming, or some harming kids. Statistically, I'm sure that there are. Just like millions of straight people have done

and are doing as members of a variety of other groups. Stats wise, people who identify as straight have done way more harm to kids than anyone else if we're thinking about groups to protect kids from. I think when we're thinking about a large group of people, a diverse group of people, we have to be careful not to think in terms of any cohesive agenda. Agenda is a word that gets used way too fucking much these days in my opinion. We have to remember that the group is a collection of individuals who are defined in this case by much more than gender identity or sexual preference.

Gay or trans people don't get along with each other anymore than straight people do. Black people don't all get along and have the same ideas about everything, any more than white people do that. There is no cohesive agenda. I don't believe for a second that the pride movement actually has a united front outside of wanting inclusion and equity, some basic general shit that any group would want.

And I found no evidence to the contrary of that. You also said I might be afraid to speak out against this group because a kickback, perhaps from the entertainment industry, I assure you with me, that's not true. What famous big Hollywood friends do I have helping promote my career? Almost none. How many super liberal Hollywood types do I have supporting me and promoting my work? Literally zero. I'm an independent operator. Hollywood doesn't give a fuck about me. I'm a white straight gun owner who lives in Northern Idaho. As far as Hollywood, it is like it's the middle ages and I have leprosy.

Northern Idaho. As far as Hollywood, it is like it's the middle ages and I have leprosy. Way riskier for me to speak up in favor of support of the LGBTQI plus community than it would be to speak against them. I have more conservative listeners than most comics. I would say, you know, the average podcaster. So this isn't me cheerleading. This isn't a business move. It's an ethics move for me. It's a, I want to respect who I see in the mirror move. Self respect matters to me more than my career, more than money at the end of the day. Next point, I hear a lot of talk about grooming. And I never see the evidence of this,

of this big agenda of grooming. Like where exactly is this happening? Is more grooming going on than what happens in straight communities? Or is normalization going on? Because there's a big difference. Lindsay and I have talked to our kids about being trans. It has been normalized to them.

And to my nieces and nephews and to all my kids' friends. And zero of them identify as trans. Why would anyone who wasn't born with gender dysphoria choose to be trans? Why choose to face widespread ridicule and persecution? I don't buy that that happens. Another point does sexual abuse lead to gender dysphoria. The evidence is not there to support that.

I have looked. And as a student of history, I know that that exact same accusation has been leveled against gay and lesbian people for decades. Prove it not to be true. Are gay and straight people molested? Yeah, just like straight, you know, or excuse me. Are gay people molested? Yeah, just like straight people are, just like trans people are. You brought up elements within the transmittment wanting more authority over children than

parents says who, like wanting to be allowed to discuss their life in schools is different than having more authority. Parents who don't like their kids hearing about gay or trans lifestyles, well, they can counter what their kids hear at school with talks at home. I've counted a lot of what my kids have heard in school with talks around the dinner table over the years. Don't want your kids being overly influenced by, you know, the opinions of others.

Well, I have an easy solution. Be a diligent parent. I've sacrificed basically the last 18 years of a, of a, you know, your typical social life in the regards of having friends you regularly connect with and spend time with, to be able to spend more time with my kids, right? I've turned down watching games with friends, dudes nights, meeting up for drinks, et cetera, literally hundreds of times because for me, it's more important to have that time with the kids, right? And that's how I wanted it. Stories I have of going on wild trips on mushrooms, and shit, those happen a few times a year now. And for many years almost never happened.

I have of going on wild trips on mushrooms and shit, those happen a few times a year now. And for many years almost never happened. Be an ever-present parent, and the school system will not have more influence over your kids, whatever they're talking about, than you do, I promise. Finally, you included a link to lactatia, which I looked at the video,

yeah, it's an eight-year-old drag queen in Canada, and do I think that's okay? Fuck no, I don't. But not because of the kid wearing the opposite sex is clothing. I think it's gross to sexualize any fucking kid, any eight year old of any gender identity in any fucking way. I look at whoever dressed that kid up

in a tight sexualized outfit the same way I look at pageant moms and pageant dads, puttin' their little girls and revealing outfits, fuckin' paradein' them around in a bunch of makeup and I think that's fucking disgusting. I think Latasha being sexualized as equally disgusting to how John Bonet Ramsey was sexualized by her parents. I think that shit is fucked up. No one of any religion or any sexual orientation

to dress up an eight year old and basically the clothing equivalent of fucking pedophile bait. That's outrageous. I hope you can understand a little better where I'm coming from now. My supporter pride is me supporting the best aspects of an imperfect organization as all organizations

are imperfect. Someone who is supporting fellow meat sacks, no better or worse than me, just wishing to have a state of the table and lead a meaningful authentic life that isn't trampling on the rights of others. It's team meat sack for me forever and always hail Nimrod.

And now, SuperSack and loving mother Tina V leaves us with a very personal connection to the same issue. This is intense. Dear Sukmaster of our universe, I'm a new listener as my son who is in his 30s, recommended that I listen. I started at the first episode and have listened in order all the way to your transgender episode. I know that for you and most your listeners, that was a long time ago.

But I feel compelled to share my feelings anyway. Yeah, interesting timing of this message. I must tell you that this episode hit home for me. I found myself in tears several times with your interview or during your interview with Erica. You see, I'm the mother of six children and the stepmom to three and the nana of nine and counting. Congrats.

I'm closer to the end of my life than the beginning. My first husband and I have five sons together and my second and current husband had a daughter. After having five boys, six including my stepson, you can imagine how excited I was to raise a little girl. I was finally going to be mother of the bride. I could hear her experience carrying her own child and help her or I could watch excuse me her experience carrying her own child and help her in ways only moms can help their daughters.

But no one ever knows what the future might hold. As age nine, my daughter came to me and told me she thought she might be gay. I didn't think much of it, but wanted to let her know that we would love her no matter what. Good job. Anyway, or always in the back of my mind, thinking she was too young to even understand these feelings yet. I think that's fair.

As age 14 after being homeschooled from kindergarten to seventh grade, my daughter expressed a want to attend public school. So we compromised. There was a private school at our church, a Catholic church, so we allowed her to attend school there. There were many obstacles to overcome and way too many to mention singularly. Suffice to say, the other members were not happy with my daughter and her open admission to being gay.

We had many meetings about it with school staff and advisors. She was told not to meetings about it with school staff and advisors. She was told not to talk about it with any other students or she would be expelled. One of the other female students started pursuing my daughter and they started a relationship. That wasn't until the other students mom found out. She blamed my daughter for her daughter's feelings,

like my daughter somehow changed her daughter from straight to gay. Not knowing what to do, I counsel my daughter to just go along with what they wanted for the rest of the year and then she would graduate from the school. In my ignorance, I encouraged my daughter to keep her feelings to herself, ignore who she was, and how she was feeling. That's when the cutting began. Whew, man. She felt like she needed to be punished. Scratches turned into deeper slashes. I was unaware of this problem.

Whew, man. This fucking mess me up. Whew. I was unaware of this problem. Oh man, this fucking mess me up. I was unaware of this problem for months. I got a call from the priest at the school that I had to come in for an emergency meeting. I heard horror stories about priests in the Catholic religion. I'm not Catholic, my husband is. And I was geared up for a fight. But the priest was wonderful.

Hugged my daughter, told her God loves all and that he never wanted her to feel that she should be punished again. Everyone was crying. Now I'm fucking crying. While the priest was wonderful to rest the staff, parents, and even patrons of the church were not. We were ostracized by the congregation, have left and will not return.

At the age of 16, my daughter realized that all her confusion and frustration was the misunderstanding of her own feelings. She was not gay. She was a transgender male. In epiphany for her, a much harder pill to swallow for my husband and me. This was a much harder thing to understand. My husband insisted that we take her to a psychologist, find out what was, quote, wrong with her, it nearly tore our family apart.

All of the things that Erica went through, our family went through as well. Well, I'm very happy to say that my son just turned 18 and is very happy. He's an active, he's active as a male at his high school. He's active in the drama program. Has recently just performed his first male role, knocked it out of the park. His father has come to realize that he now has seven sons instead of three daughters. His brother was recently married. He was a groom's minute the wedding. I love to see my child smile again. Not that there aren't hurdles, not that there aren't hard times, but he has the support of his whole family now. As a mom of a transgender child, a thank you from the bottom of my heart for choosing this topic and for having the courage to put yourself out there.

Sharing your fears of not understanding and judging speaks volumes to the person you are. Your mom must be proud of you. I will continue to listen to all of your podcasts in order, because I'm weird that way. The world needs more people like you in it, keep on sucking, forever grateful for you. Tina,

man, sorry, Tina, but, Batch and I, I don't know how to say your name. Sorry, Tina. PS, I've sent a link to your podcast to all my, quote, older friends. Everyone loves it. Thanks again for spending time away from your family to help the rest of us exercise our brains.

Lots of love to you. Well, Tina, thank you so fucking much for sharing that incredibly powerful story as a parent, man, that really hit me. Like this, fucking this. Who? Man. That's why I support Pride.

You all be honest. Oh man, it's God dang it. It did not hit me this hard. The people's time, this is unexpected. I'll be honest, there's so much I don't understand about being transgender. And I don't understand other facets of Pride. I'm lucky, I is unexpected. I'll be honest, there's so much I don't understand about being transgender. And I don't understand other facets of pride. I'm lucky, I've always known I was straight,

I've never struggled with gender identity, I've loved being a boy, love being a man, and I also know that, you know, not everyone has it that easy. Just like some people take a while to figure out what career they might want. Others take a bit to figure out who they feel they are and their hearts gender wise and who they are attracted to.

And I can't imagine how hard that struggle must be. And now I know that I don't want to fucking add to that struggle. Hug that seven son, Tina, right? Help shield him from the world. Woohoo. Goddamn. So much motions. Help shield him from the world for the people who don't want to see outside the realm

of their own experiences. And help remind him that there are in fact so many allies allies out there allies like this middle age straight heathen hail them rod hail equality hail love hail you VL modif for being concerned for children and not afraid to you know send in a message of descent and have some discourse and hail you most of all Tina for choosing to push past your previous level of understanding to nourish the fucking soul of not just your child, but so many others who will need to hear this. Thanks, time suckers. I need a net. We all did. Thanks for listening to another bad magic productions podcast. I'm all fucked up now. I'm scared of that. It's in Time Suck each week, the Seared Suck each week for space litters.

You know, please don't kill any women, so you can dress them up however you want and take picks of them and shoes and panties you stole from other women this week. Just, you know, no killing or stealing panties or shoes this week. Just stay home already and keep on second. I'm magic productions. Uh, no silly little enter to the meat sex. I hope you keep thinking about those last two messages. I sure will. You know so often, I don't know what the answers are. There's a lot of tricky shit out there. We're going into a new territory

with so many different things in the world right now. You know, when it comes to equality, to do the right thing, I do feel strongly that what we need to do is just focus on stats, logic, and empathy, air on the side of empathy, and not on the side of paranoia propaganda and hate. on the side of paranoia propaganda and hate.