My Obsession

I am obsessed with stories of true crimes. Those crimes that shook the world. Unsolved murders and cold cases. The Black Dahlia. Jack the Ripper. Susan Smith. The Green River Killer. Jeffrey Dahmer. The Zodiac Killer. The list goes on and on.

Those criminal mothers. Susan Smith strapped her two small children in her car and allowed her car to roll into the lake. She had time to save her kids! More recently, Andrea Yates killed each of her five children, drowning them each in succession. I can somewhat understand an “accidental drowning” of an infant, as they are rather helpless, but she had to have held the older children under the water. The kids had to have been fighting against her, struggling for life. How about those mothers who poisoned their family members for money? How does a mother, a person we are supposed to trust, kill her children?

Jeffrey Dahmer ate his victims. Fred and Rosemary West were a sadistic couple who kidnapped and killed together. Those that kill together, stay together? Then, there was The Blood Countess who killed young maidens and bathed in their blood … to stay forever young? John Wayne Gacy dressed up like a clown; and after he killed his victims, he buried them under his house. How do killers rationalize murder?

Cold cases intrigue me even more. Who killed the Black Dahlia? And what inspired the killer to murder and then dismember her? And who was Jack the Ripper? Was he a doctor? Or a member of royalty, perhaps? What about the Zodiac Killer? Why did he leave strange puzzles at the scene? And what do they mean? There is so little known that my little over-active think tank goes into over drive.

I like to imagine the scene and figure out the most likely scenarios. The suspects, clues, witness statements, and police reports have my mind whirling (in a good way). Yeah, I’m obsessed. I love every second of it though!

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