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Interview With A Serial Killer (Part One)

Interview With A Serial Killer (Part One)

By LPMC

Please leave me feedback so i know what you guys think..

My email is
yanks7728 yahoo

This is Part One: Part Two will be available in the near future

WARNING!! This story is NOT suitable for children, it contains strong violence, sexual content, and language. ADULTS (18+) ONLY..

Interview With a Serial Killer

Chapter One: The Arrival

As a reporter for Channel 10 news in Braden, Mississippi my assignment was to track the final thirty-six hours of one of the most notorious serial killers in modern day history. The subjects name was Gideon Raca Balaam.

What a fitting name for such a hideous human being, Gideon meaning he that bruises or breaks; a destroyer, Raca meaning worthless, good for nothing, finally, and most fittingly Balaam meaning the destroyer of the people.

Death Row in Mississippi State Prison housed just thirteen inmates. The most notorious of course being Gideon Raca Balaam. Gideon killed 357 men and women [Known in the press as the Raca Murders (The worthless murders)] in Denner, Mississippi in the summer of 1977, each murder was performed so intricately, no known Cause of death, no wounds to the body, no sign of struggle, no traces of drugs in their system. Just a body lying dead in an alley, with a note tapped to the victims’ chest.

The notes read “In taking revenge, a man is but even with his enemy; but in going beyond what was done unto him, he is superior.”

The investigators in charge of the case were dumbfounded on where to begin to even search for a suspect. The search was painstakingly endless. Ten people a day on average were being murdered, without a trace of evidence left behind, or a clue on who was committing these horrendous crimes.

Finally on October 13th 1977 Gideon was apprehended by an officer who arrested him on possession of cocaine, when Gideon was taken into custody on the cocaine charge he confessed to each of the 357 murders. While in custody he was asked one thing. “Why?” His answer “I did what I had to do to get even with my enemy”. Those were the last words he would ever speak, he remained silent for the next 33 years not saying a single word.

The trial lasted all of 2 weeks. It was an open and shut case, Gideon pled guilty to all 357 counts of murder and was sentenced to death. A plea deal of life imprisonment by Gideons’ lawyer was denied and Gideon was sent to Mississippi state prison on May 8th 1978, and there he sat in a 7 by 7 condemned cell on Death Row for the last 33 years awaiting his execution, which was now just thirty-six hours away.

I made my way into the prison shortly after 9 a.m on Tuesday June 13th, a few minutes shy of thirty-six hours before Gideon was sentenced to die by electric chair. I had no idea what to expect during my time here, I had never been allocated to an assignment of such magnitude. I was going to be inside the same cell as a man who was a murderer of 357 people, I can honestly say I was quite tense, and it probably showed on my face.

I walked into the prison by visitors’ entrance and made my way to the front desk where a fat, out of shape, balding corrections officer sat behind an oak desk eating a box of donuts.

“Ah, you must be that reporter.” He said, with crumbs hanging from his chin.

“Uh yes. Henry.. Henry Walker” I said extending my hand for him to shake.

He stood up from the desk, said his name was Frank and led me down a long corridor, which I assumed was leading to Death Row.

“I don’t know why you’re bothering with this interview; you know the nut hasn’t spoken a single word in 33 years. Fuck-in guys insane.” Frank said.

“I’m just doing my job sir.” I responded.

“Well that may be, but don't expect nothing out of this, I worked here 13 years, many reporters just like yourself came through these doors to interview the “infamous” Gideon Balaam, every single one of them left unsuccessful.” Frank said while loading his key into a metal box. An alarm sounded, and the big metal door opened, revealing the entrance to Death Row.

“Well I’ll try my best I guess.”

“You’re wasting your time kid, but hell whatever floats your boat.” Frank turned around. “John will take it from here he’s in charge on these inmates.”

A tall lanky looking man approached me with a sour look on his face, looked as if, I was another interloper coming to intrude on his place of business. I hesitantly shuffled my feet when he neared closer to me.

“Hello sir I’m….

“Save it kid, I don't care enough to know your name.” He said cutting me off. “You’re here for your interview. Let’s just get this shit over with. Quite frankly your wasting your time kid, the piece of chicken fried shit isn’t going to talk to ya anyway.”

“Yeah so I have been told. Well I can see I’m somewhat of an “intruder” here, so let me just do my job, and I won’t interfere with yours.”

“Sure kid, sure.” John said turning his back to me, and continued on down the hall. “Just follow me.”

I followed John down the hall, as he stopped in front of cell 228. I peered in and saw a elderly white man, with graying hair, and black rimmed eye glasses. He was lying on his bed and looked to be reading the Bible.

“Well here it is.” John said to me.. “Look Gideon you got a visitor.”

John mumbled something under his breath that I could not make out. He then inserted a silver key into the lock, and clicked it open.

“Well there you go kid, he’s all yours.

“My name is Henry.” I said annoyed.

“Sure, kid sure. Just do your thing, this asshole is gonna be dead soon, I’d hate to see him die before you finish your precious story on him.”

I ignored Johns’ arrogance, and headed into Gideons’ cell hesitantly.

“Hello Mr. Balaam, my name is Henry Walker, I am a reporter from Channel 10 news in Braden Mississippi, and I have been assigned to cover the…. Well you know cover the last…”

I awkwardly stammered my words, not wanting to come right and say. Hey I’m here to cover the last hours of your life.

“I’m sorry Gideon, I would just like to ask you some questions, the world would love to hear your story, and well, I’m the one who was assigned to get it.” I said and grabbed a stool to sit on.

Gideon, sat up on the bed, and directed his gaze towards me. His stare was so cold, and eerie that chills procured up and down my spine. He squinted his eyes, and whipped his neck to the right, and then to the left. The way someone does when they crack it, to get rid of a creek.

“So then ask.” He said is a clear and intelligible voice.

John who was standing in the cells door way, almost fell backwards. “Holy Christ, the piece of shit speaks.” He said with laughter. “Jesus-Christ I am flabbergasted I don't know what to say.”

Gideon turned his gaze to John, and intently stared at him, with the coldest eyes I ever seen in my life. It must’ve made John feel uneasy too because he cleared his throat and excused himself, asking another guard to take his place; a young kid of about twenty-two came and stood in the doorway. He looked at me, and bowed his head in the gesture of saying hey how ya doin. I returned the gesture, then fixed my gaze back at Gideon..

“So where were we?” I asked.

“Look at this kid.” Gideon said ignoring my question. “He’s no more then what eighteen?” He said referring to the guard standing in the doorway.

“I’m twenty-four.” The guard commented.

“I wasn’t talking to you, ya damn pip squeak.” Gideon snapped back. “I was sitting on this very same bed nine years before your ass was even born.”

Gideon fixed his gaze back at me, “I tell ya what kid, I’ll allow you to conduct your interview, I’ll answer your questions.”

“Okay, that’s great. Than..”

“Don't thank me, I'm not doing this for you, I'm doing it for me. I want the world to know my story, make them understand.”

“Okay then. I’ll...”

“Of course there are a few stipulations.” Gideon said cutting me off.

“What might those be?!” I asked with a concerned look on my face.

“You write my story exactly the way I tell it, you leave nothing out, you censor nothing.” Gideon said in a very serious tone of voice.

“I think that can be arranged.”

“Well then let’s get started, I don't have all day.”

“Okay, well I assume I’ll start with the standard questions. State your name for the record.”

“Gideon Balaam.”

“Where were you born?”

“Jerusalem, Israel.”

“Really?” I asked shocked. After all he was a white man.

“Yes, my mother, and father were in the Peace Corps, and they were in Israel at the time I was born. I came to this country and my parents set up home in Mississippi when I was 3 months old. ”
He spoke as if he had rehearsed the words in his head many times before saying them aloud. (It sounded like a lie to me)

“Okay, moving on. The experts say, many serial killers have lived troubled childhoods, and that may be the reason they became serial killers in the first place. How was your child hood?”

“Who are these experts?” He asked sarcastically.

“I don't know it is just an old saying.”

“So, what do you want to hear me say? You want me to say I would spread knifes around my relatives while they slept? Or that I was raised thinking my mother was my sister? Or that I would torture young animals, and kill them? Gideon said with part sarcasm, and part anger in his voice.

“You’re describing Ted Bundy.” I said.

“Ah, very smart man, you know your facts.” He said snickering.

“Yea, I suppose I do. Will you answer the question?”

“Fine, fine.” He said as he laid back down on his bed, and put his arm over this forehead. “Hmm, well let me see, where to begin.”

Gideon stayed in silence for a few minutes, as if contemplating where he was going to begin his dark tale. During the brief moments of silence I did my own bit of reflecting, thinking back on my own childhood, my own horrors were stored away deep in the vaults of my memory trying to fight their way out into my conscious mind. What nightmares I endured in the early years of my life, years of counseling to help me suppress those dark dreadful days of my youth. The agonizing…

“I guess I’ll begin from when I was 17.” Gideon spoke suddenly; waking me from my subconscious thoughts.


Chapter Two: Gideons’ Story

The year was 1964. Kennedy had just recently been assassinated months before; citizens of America were still devastated over the catastrophe. I was an arrogant kid at the time, so I really didn’t give a shit and had no idea what the big fuss was about. All I cared about were girls, and baseball.
The day was May 15th 1964 me and two of my buddies were down at the river – Mississippi – snorting cocaine, and drinking beer when we saw a three girls, sitting on a rock eating sandwiches’ and giggling amongst themselves, while looking our way.

Finally after about twenty minutes one of the girls came over, introduced herself as Samantha, but insisted we call her Sammy.

“Would you boys like to have some fun?” Sammy said smiling.

“What kind of fun” I asked.

“Well, my friend Jessie over there knows where there’s gonna be a real keen party and we were contemplating going over there, would you and your friends like to join us?.” She asked

Me, not really caring about hanging out – i can do my own hanging out right here, I had all the beer, and cocaine I needed – only agreed to go hoping I would have a shot at getting in one of the girls pants.

“Sure I’d love too.” I responded quickly, and sounding as excited as I could.”

“Great!” She exclaimed. “I’ll go tell my friends.”

She quickly ran back to the rock where her friends were sitting, waiting impatiently for her answer, I couldn’t make out what she was saying, but I assumed she was telling them that we agreed to go. One of the girls looked over at me and smiled. I returned the gesture.

The girls gathered up their things, and made their way over to us smiling.

“Hey boys, this is my friends Jessie, and Kathy.” Sammy said with a happy smile.

My friends Mike, and Dave introduced themselves, as we gathered up our things to leave with them.

“So where’re we going?” Mike asked. “Where’s this party?”

“You guys just get right down to the point don't’cha” Jessie said jokingly.

“Well?” Mike asked sounding impatient.

“Well my friend over in Lafayette Springs has a house, and he’s throwing a gathering tonight, there’ll be plenty of that.” She said pointing to the cocaine on the table. “It’ll be a really boss.”

“Sounds like a good plan to me.” I said enthusiastically.

“I never caught your name.” Sammy said to me with her captivating eyes fixed on mine.

“Gideon.” I said, returning her mesmerizing stare.

“Ooooo, Gideon.” She said with wonderment. “I love that name, it sounds so thrilling.” She grabbed my hand in hers, and squeezed it reassuringly the way a child will squeeze the hand of his mother to make sure they’re safe.

“Well, we better hed out soon.” Jessie said. “Lafayette Springs is about two hours from here, and I wanna get there before it gets dark.”

“Okay, well we’ll follow you in our car.” I said

We drove for what seemed like hours, before finally pulling up to a large mansion. Not a nice richy looking one, it looked like a castle worn down from decades of harsh weather. Sammy pulled into the long stretch of drive-way and drove to the back of the front lawn near a garage, I proceeded to follow her.

“Well we’re finally here.” She said getting out of the car.

“Yeah, jeez you weren’t kidding when you said it was a drive.” I said tiredly.

“Yeah, well it’ll be worth it trust me, we’re going to have a real groovy time.” She said reassuringly. “You guys can spend the night, as well. As you see there will be plenty of room to sleep.”

“Uhm, well.”

“Common, let’s get this party started girls.” Jesse said cutting me off, and running up the path to the front door. Sammy, and Brenda, ran to catch up with her.

“I guess lets go, I don't wanna look like an ass standing out here.” Dave said proceeding to follow the girls up the path.

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About The Author
LPMC
LPMC
About This Story
Audience:
18+
Posted:
17 Apr, 2011
Genre:
Horror
Type:
Scary
Words:
2,576
Favorites:
0
Views:
3,204

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