Dahmer Quotes

It was strange that in some sort of Jeffrey Dahmer meets Ghandi way I was able to love myself for hating myself. It seemed like a warped sense of love. But it was love without conditions.

The project I did last year was on Jeffrey Dahmer,' I said. 'He was a cannibal who kept severed heads in his freezer' 'I remember now,' said Max, his eyes darkening. 'Your posters have me nightmares. That was boss.' 'Nightmares are nothing,' I said. 'Those posters gave me a therapist.

I want to find a designer that can represent me. I want to find a celebrity that reflects me. So far I’ve been dressing in cotton-polyester blends. It’s what Jerffrey Dahmer wore.

Jesus, I smell like Jeffrey Dahmer's refrigerator.

You don't have body parts there do you?" my mother interrupted. "I don't want to open the fridge and find a head on the shelf" Rodney laughed. "No Justina, it doesn't look like Jeffrey Dahmer's hideaway.

just…like the way he smells. I look at him and I find myself wondering what his skin tastes like.”  “Oof. Easy, Dahmer,” Adam said. “Maybe don’t start with that.

He was a nobody. One of those shy kids who turned into social invalids when that first blast of adolescence hit, meekly accepted their fate, and became invisible.

It is hard for me to believe that a human being could have done what I have done.” Jeffrey Dahmer 

If this guy turns out to be the next Jeffrey Dahmer, promise me you’ll avenge my death?

Shower while there were two dead bodies in the bathtub, and he was sane. He drilled holes in the heads of living people to make them his unresisting companions, and he was sane. He ate a bicep which he fried in a skillet, tenderised and sprinkled with sauce, and he was sane. For hours he lay with corpses, hugging them, cherishing them, and he was sane. He kept eleven assorted heads and skulls, and two complete skeletons, for eventual use in a home-made temple, and he was sane.

There were the things he used to sustain life: a box of fish food. And the things he'd used to take it: a pair of nickel-plated handcuffs.

you never think about what serial killers eat, do you? I mean, other than Jeffrey Dahmer.

Reality poisons the spring of fantasy, whereas fantasy, when it erupts into the real world, brings destruction in its wake.

You know Dahmer was a cannibal. You think he was a zombie?” Tom smirked. “I’m no expert, but not all cannibals are zombies.

I think in some way I wanted it to end, even if it meant my own destruction.” —Jeffrey Dahmer

It's my belief that Dahmer didn't have to wind up a monster, that all those people didn't have to die horribly, if only the adults in his life hadn't been so inexplicably, unforgivably, incomprehensibly clueless and/or indifferent. Once Dahmer kills, however - and I can't stress this enough - my sympathy for him ends. He could have turned himself in after that first murder. He could have put a gun to his head. Instead he, and he alone, chose to become a serial killer and spread misery to countless people. There are a surprising number out there who view Jeffery Dahmer as some kind of anti-hero, a bullied kid who lashed back at the society that rejected him, This is nonsense. Dahmer was a twisted wretch whose depravity was almost beyond comprehension. Pity him, but don't empathize with him.

AN ACADEMIC DEFINITION of Lynchian might be that the term "refers to a particular kind of irony where the very macabre and the very mundane combine in such a way as to reveal the former's perpetual containment within the latter." But like postmodern or pornographic, Lynchian is one of those Porter Stewart-type words that's ultimately definable only ostensively-i.e., we know it when we see it. Ted Bundy wasn't particularly Lynchian, but good old Jeffrey Dahmer, with his victims' various anatomies neatly separated and stored in his fridge alongside his chocolate milk and Shedd Spread, was thoroughgoingly Lynchian. A recent homicide in Boston, in which the deacon of a South Shore church reportedly gave chase to a vehicle that bad cut him off, forced the car off the road, and shot the driver with a highpowered crossbow, was borderline Lynchian. A Rotary luncheon where everybody's got a comb-over and a polyester sport coat and is eating bland Rotarian chicken and exchanging Republican platitudes with heartfelt sincerity and yet all are either amputees or neurologically damaged or both would be more Lynchian than not.

Was she always that friendly?" I joke. "She saw Robert. At least I got that out of her." "Maybe she buried him in the backyard." "Stop." "Did you smell it in there?" "Yes." "That wasn't a normal smell. That wasn't the sort of something's-gone-bad-in-the-garbage smell. That was the sort of Dahmer-next-door smell." "Stop it." "I'm serious," I say. "It's probably just some dead animal." "Oh, well, in that case, it's fine.

It’s amazing how much a human being can hide from another human being.

Fear does funny things to people. Shit, Dahmer was cooking and eating people in the middle of an apartment building. Imagine what you can get away with in a no man’s land.

And let's stop calling them "sex offenders," as if their crimes had anything to do with sex. (Perhaps Jeffry Dahmer was a "food offender.")

The only way to be sure of never losing the ones you love. The Dahmer Method. Extreme, but effective.

Good people do bad things all the time. Even Jeffrey Dahmer had a mother.

Dahmer said that the first time he ate human flesh was in May 1990.

I don't even know if I have the capacity for normal emotions or not because I haven't cried for a long time. You just stifle them for so long that maybe you lose them, partially at least.

Zombie,” which he’d adapted from Joyce Carol Oates’s 1995 novella by the same name. She, in turn, had based her work partly from the life and crimes of cannibalistic serial killer, Jeffrey Dahmer.

Imagine the thoughts of serial killer and mutilator Jeffrey Dahmer when he ended up in prison. He felt great remorse, which he confessed on several occasions. He had ruined his life beyond repair. If Wisconsin had the death penalty, he would have earned it. Who could he turn to except God? Certainly no human would hear the cries of his heart and believe the depth of his sorrow. Only God could.

His social life, which should have been expanding, narrowed to a circle that was no larger than his mind, an imagined world in which his friends were phantoms, his lovers mere lumps of unmoving flesh.

Jeff, I have here a report from your employer at the chocolate factory. It says that they gave you notice of termination. They were also wondering if you placed anything other than the prescribed ingredients into the batches of confections you were mixing.” Dahmer sat back quickly in surprise. “What do you mean? They think I put some body parts into the candy? What kind of monster do they think I am?

there's a part in the essay that kind of does this academic "Let's unpack the idea of Lynchian and what Lynchian means is something about the unbelievably grotesque existing in a kind of union with the unbelievably banal," and then it gives a series of scenarios about what -- what is and what isn't Lynchian. Jeffrey Dahmer was borderline Lynchian...what was Lynchian was having the actual food products next to the disembodied bits of the corpse. I guess the big one is, you know, a regular domestic murder is not Lynchian. But if the man -- if the police come to the scene and see the man standing over the body and the woman -- let's see, the woman's '50s bouffant is undisturbed and the man and the cops have this conversation about the fact that the man killed the woman because she persistently refused to buy, say, for instance, Jif peanut butter rather than Skippy, and how very, very important that is, and if the cops found themselves somehow agreeing that there were major differences between the brands and that a wife who didn't recognize those differences was deficient in her wifely duties, that would be Lynchian -- this weird confluence of very dark, surreal, violent stuff and absolute, almost Norman Rockwell, banal, American stuff, which is terrain he's been working for quite a while -- I mean, at least since -- at least since "Blue Velvet.

It was a level of obliviousness, or perhaps denial, that was scarcely imaginable, and yet it was real. It was as if I had locked my son in a soundproofed booth, then drawn the curtains so that I could neither hear nor see what he had become.

...she's just an Italian momma. She worries a lot." "Dude, whenever she knew you had a date, she'd call during the day while you were at work, leaving you those disturbing messages—reading off detailed descriptions of what Jeffrey Dahmer did to his victims." "She actually still does that." Gabe cringed, looking over at me. "She only wants me to be safe. The whole gay thing wasn't easy for her." "Boo hoo," I said, "You're queer, not cancerous. She's had plenty of time to get the hell over it.

How did the government spend three million dollars trying to find out if Jeffrey Dahmer was crazy? Three million dollars! Let me tell you something, when I’m president I will make one very simple law. Anytime you eat three or more people, you’re crazy!

It’s impossible to say. Normal motives don’t necessarily apply to psychopathic personalities. Jeffrey Dahmer murdered and cannibalized seventeen people, three of whose skulls were found in his refrigerator.” “That’s perfectly rational behavior,” said Desh sarcastically. “He just didn’t want them to spoil.

I had this dream in which I was having a cocktail party, and it was in a big room. I was standing at the door saying hello to people, and Jeffrey Dahmer walks up and I say, ‘Oh Jeffrey, please go on in, it’s right in there.' And then I say to myself, I just put Jeffrey Dahmer in a room with all my friends.

I did not see that there was much more I could do for Jeff. He was now totally in the hands of other people. They would decide what he wore, what he ate, where he slept, what medication, if, any, he received. My fatherly duties had been reduced to the provision of a few small services, none of them basic. As a father, my role had almost disappeared.

Madness has its own logic.

t's hard for me to believe that a human being could have done what I've done, but I know that I did it.

I think in some way I wanted it to end, even if it meant my own destruction.

When I was a little kid, I was just like anybody else.” “I made my fantasy life more powerful than my real one.” “I carried it too far, that’s for sure

Having OCD, and tending to see things as either black or white and in perfectionistic terms, as well as being overconscientious, he was extremely hard on himself and insisted that he somehow be guaranteed that he would not one day snap and act on his thoughts. At one point, Frank told me that he was now concerned that he was feeling too little anxiety, which made him think that perhaps he was a sociopath without a conscience after all and would end up like Jeffrey Dahmer!

Heart disease is the Jeffrey Dahmer of modern ailments. It kills more than 25 percent of us. That’s one person in the United States dying of it every 37 seconds. Expanding fitness just a bit—the equivalent of a person improving their max running speed from five to six miles an hour—reduces the risk of heart disease by 30 percent, according to the American Heart Association. Next is cancer. It kills 22.8 percent of us. The most fit people face a 45 percent lower risk of dying from the disease, according to a study in the Annals of Oncology. Then we have accidents. They take 6.8 percent of us. If a person is in a serious car accident, being in shape drops their chances of dying by 80 percent, according to a study in the Emergency Medical Journal. If the docs have to operate—regardless of whether it’s an emergency or a planned surgery—fitter people also face fewer surgical complications and recover faster than unfit people, say scientists in Brazil.

FURIOUS FAVOR I wonder if David would be allowed in our churches today. In most cases, when a church member has an affair, he is shunned at best or mistreated at worst—even if he repents. But David doesn’t just have an affair. He lusts, covets, fornicates, lies, and gets another man hammered. Then he tries to keep his dirty little secrets by murdering the husband of the woman he “loves.” I doubt I’ve met anyone as sinful as David. Have you? He breaks half of the Ten Commandments in a single episode. And he doesn’t repent until he’s caught. But when Nathan shoves his prophetic finger into David’s chest and rebukes him, David falls to his knees and admits his guilt. And right then, at that moment, God rips open the heavens to reach down and touch David’s soul with stubborn delight. God eagerly forgives David for his sin, and all of it is buried at the bottom of the sea, never to be remembered again. There is no hiccup in God’s furious favor toward David. So why do repentant sinners still bear the stigma of “adulterer,” “divorced,” or “addict” in our churches today? It’s one thing if they don’t repent. But quite often we shun repentant sinners, like Jeffrey Dahmer, whose crimes we just can’t forget. “He’s the former addict.” “That’s the divorced mom.” “Here comes the guy who slept with the church secretary.” For some reason we love to define people by the sin in their lives—even past sin in their lives—rather than by the grace that forgave it. It’s no wonder that David pens the last sentence in Psalm 23: “Surely goodness and mercy shall [hunt me down] all the days of my life” (Ps. 23:6).

This was the end of some of those friendships. They were left behind, artifacts of youth, boxed up with my comic books, my sketchbooks ans journals, and the rest of my teenage mementos. Only a select few of my high school comrades, like Mike, would remain lifelong pals.

Dahmer was as manipulative and calculating as the other killers we've covered in this book, demonstrating a keen understanding of how to evade capture the vast majority of his victims were Black men, not because Dahmer was exclusively attracted to the them but because he knew that police were much less likely to investigate their disappearances. In this, he was absolutely correct, harkening back to the "less dead" theory we discussed in Gacy's case. When you add gay and poor to that victim profile as many of Dahmer's victims were, you've got the perfect trifecta of investigative apathy.

He was truly a loner; in fact, phone company records showed that during the entire time he lived at the Oxford Apartments address, not a single phone call was placed to his residence. The more time I spent with him chronicling the facts around his activities, the more I felt sorry for him. He was a pathetically lonely and inept human being. He was unable to make a real connection with anyone and was totally self-absorbed. His lifestyle was a continuous hedonistic pursuit of pleasure. All his time, effort, energy, and money went to his overwhelming desire for a warm, compliant human body, with alcohol fueling his every move.

Two days after his twelfth birthday, a fortnight before his father was jailed for debt, Charles Dickens was sent to work in a blacking factory. There, in a rat-infested room by the docks, he sat for twelve hours a day, labelling boot polish and learning the pain of abandonment. While he never spoke publicly of this ordeal, it would always be with him: in his social conscience and burning ambition, in the hordes of innocent children who languished and died in his fiction. Pete thinks we all have a blacking factory: some awful moment, early on, when we surrender our childish hearts as surely as we lose our baby teeth. And the outcome can't be called. Some of us end up like Dickens, others like Jeffrey Dahmer. It's not a question of good or evil, Pete believes. Just the random brutality of the universe and our native ability to withstand it.

In any discussion of serial killers, a few notorious names—those of the most prolific killers—always get mentioned. Ted Bundy admitted to killing thirty women, but it could well have been more. Gary Ridgeway, also known as the Green River Killer, was convicted of murdering forty-eight, but later confessed to others. John Wayne Gacy was convicted of killing thirty-three people. Jeffrey Dahmer was convicted of murdering and partially ingesting fifteen people. David Berkowitz, New York City’s “Son of Sam,” shot and killed six people. Less well known but significant are Dennis Rader, who killed ten people in Wichita, Kansas, and Aileen Wuornos, portrayed by Charlize Theron in the film Monster, who killed six men. Wayne Williams was convicted of killing only two men, but he is believed to have killed anywhere from twenty-three to twenty-nine children in Atlanta. Robert Hansen confessed to four murders but is suspected of more than seventeen. Juan Corona was convicted of murdering twenty-five people. Their crimes are all horrific, and the number of victims is heartbreaking. But all these most notorious serial killers stand in the shadow of Dr. Kermit Gosnell. Strangely, Gosnell appears in no list we have found of known U.S. serial killers, though he is the biggest of them all. In reality, Kermit Gosnell deserves the top spot on any list of serial murderers. He’s earned it.

Your Honor, it is over now. This has never been a case of trying to get free. I didn’t ever want freedom. Frankly, I wanted death for myself. This was a case to tell the world that I did what I did not for reasons of hate; I hated no one. I knew I was sick or evil or both. Now, I believe I was sick. The doctors have told me about my sickness, and now I have some peace. I know how much harm I have caused. I tried to do the best I could after the arrest to make amends, but no matter what I did, I could not undo the terrible harm I have caused. I feel so bad for what I did to those poor families, and I understand their rightful hate. “I decided to go through with this trial for a number of reasons. One of the reasons was to let the world know that these were not hate crimes. I wanted the world and Milwaukee, which I deeply hurt, to know the truth of what I did. I didn’t want unanswered questions. All the questions have now been answered. I wanted to find out just what it was that caused me to be so bad and evil. But most of all, Mr. Boyle and I decided that maybe there was a way for us to tell the world that if there are people out there with these disorders, maybe they can get some help before they end up being hurt or hurting someone. I think the trial did that. I should have stayed with God. I tried and failed, and created a holocaust. Thank God there will be no more harm that I can do. I take all the blame for what I did. I hurt so many people and I am sorry. In closing, I just want to say that I hope God has forgiven me. I know society will never be able to forgive me. I ask for no consideration.

I was getting my knife sharpened at the cutlery shop in the mall,” he said. It was where he originally bought the knife. The store had a policy of keeping your purchase razor sharp, so he occasionally brought it back in for a free sharpening. “Anyway, it was that day that I met this Asian male. He was alone and really nice looking, so I struck up a conversation with him. Well, I offered him fifty bucks to come home with me and let me take some photos. I told him that there was liquor at my place and indicated that I was sexually attracted to him. He was eager and cooperative so we took the bus to my apartment. Once there, I gave him some money and he posed for several photos. I offered him the rum and Coke Halcion-laced solution and he drank it down quickly. We continued to drink until he passed out, and then I made love to him for the rest of the afternoon and early evening. I must have fallen asleep, because when I woke up it was late. I checked on the guy. He was out cold, still breathing heavily from the Halcion. I was out of beer and walked around the corner for another six-pack but after I got to the tavern, I started drinking and before I knew it, it was closing time. I grabbed my six-pack and began walking home. As I neared my apartment, I noted a lot of commotion, people milling about, police officers, and a fire engine. I decided to see what was going on, so I came closer. I was surprised to see they were all standing around the Asian guy from my apartment. He was standing there naked, speaking in some kind of Asian dialect. At first, I panicked and kept walking, but I could see that he was so messed up on the Halcion and booze that he didn’t know who or where he was. “I don’t really know why, Pat, but I strode into the middle of everyone and announced he was my lover. I said that we lived together at Oxford and had been drinking heavily all day, and added that this was not the first time he left the apartment naked while intoxicated. I explained that I had gone out to buy some more beer and showed them the six-pack. I asked them to give him a break and let me take him back home. The firemen seemed to buy the story and drove off, but the police began to ask more questions and insisted that I take them to my apartment to discuss the matter further. I was nervous but felt confident; besides, I had no other choice. One cop took him by the arm and he followed, almost zombie-like. “I led them to my apartment and once inside, I showed them the photos I had taken, and his clothes neatly folded on the arm of my couch. The cops kept trying to question the guy but he was still talking gibberish and could not answer any of their questions, so I told them his name was Chuck Moung and gave them a phony date of birth. I handed them my identification and they wrote everything down in their little notebooks. They seemed perturbed and talked about writing us some tickets for disorderly conduct or something. One of them said they should take us both in for all the trouble we had given them. “As they were discussing what to do, another call came over their radio. It must have been important because they decided to give us a warning and advised me to keep my drunken partner inside. I was relieved. I had fooled the authorities and it gave me a tremendous feeling. I felt powerful, in control, almost invincible. After the officers left, I gave the guy another Halcion-filled drink and he soon passed out. I was still nervous about the narrow escape with the cops, so I strangled him and disposed of his body.

Two of the most violent criminals in US history were Ted Bundy and Jeffrey Dahmer. Bundy preyed on girls and women; Dahmer on boys and men. Both violent sex addicts gave themselves wholly over to dark compulsions. They murdered dozens of innocent people to gratify out-of-control lust. Law enforcers eventually caught and convicted these men, but only after reigns of terror and death. The state of Florida executed Ted Bundy in 1989 at age 42. A fellow prisoner bludgeoned Dahmer to death in 1994 while he served a life sentence. Dahmer was 34. These two monsters shared another characteristic in common: they both professed Jesus Christ as Savior and Lord. They received his forgiveness while in prison. Many of us would exclaim, “No way!” I did. How can such miserable excuses for human beings be let off the hook by a just God? If this is true that means even Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Mao Tse-tung, and Pol Pot could have repented and God would have forgiven them. That’s entirely too much grace and mercy in my book! Such unmerited and massive forgiveness feels unfair and impossible to believe, but it’s consistent with biblical accounts of Jesus’s character and teachings. He lives by a different book than we do. Even when put to death unjustly, he still forgives.

Executing Ted Bundy cost the state of Florida seven or eight million dollars, money that could have been better invested in building a criminal forensic institution devoted to the research and study of people like Bundy, Kemper, Gacy, Berkowitz and Dahmer, who have hideously violated society’s trust. Criminologists have long ago agreed that the death penalty has never deterred violent criminals. It only satisfies the families of the victims and the general desire of society for revenge.

He was a nobody. One of those shy kids who turned into social invalids when that first blast of adolescence hit, meekly accepted their fate, and became invisible.

I just…like the way he smells. I look at him and I find myself wondering what his skin tastes like.”  “Oof. Easy, Dahmer,” Adam said. “Maybe don’t start with that.

THERE IS SOMETHING STRANGE AND DISARMING about looking at a homicide scene in the bright daylight of the Miami sun. It makes the most grotesque killings look antiseptic, staged. Like you’re in a new and daring section of Disney World. Dahmer Land. Come ride the refrigerator. Please hurl your lunch in the designated containers only.

Oh no, what if I have a second-coming of Jeffrey Dahmer stalking me?

He who fights with monsters might take care lest he thereby become a monster. And if you gaze for long into an abyss, the abyss gazes also into you.’ Friedrich Nietzsche (1844-1900)

Even Ted Bundy and Jeffrey Dahmer had loving parents who were unaware of the evil that dwelled within their offspring.

When an airplane navigates through the sky it works its way along a route composed of beacons and waypoints – invisible signposts in the sky – which are defined by geographic coordinates. They constitute the pilot’s map of the world. Flight computers are programmed into these waypoints which are put into the systems before take-off. Assuming these coordinates have been programmed correctly, the plane will go from point A, passing through the designated waypoints, before arriving at point B without a hitch. However, if any of these waypoints are wrong, the aircraft will deviate from its flight programme and its destination which can prove fatal. Life for each of us contains thousands of waypoints; signposts that hopefully provide us with directions as to what to do, how to go about things and where to go next – our decision-making processes. But what happens when our own onboard computer, our brain, has initially been programmed with data that is corrupt and socially unacceptable. How are we able to make life decisions – correct decisions that is?

I just…like the way he smells. I look at him and I find myself wondering what his skin tastes like.” “Oof. Easy, Dahmer,” Adam said. “Maybe don’t start with that.” “Don’t start with anything. He thinks you kill people,” Atticus said, practically apoplectic at that point. “He does kill people?” Adam reminded.

Then again, Jeffrey Dahmer had been attractive, so good looks weren’t exactly the best scale of measurement for an individual’s mental health.

Unlike other killers that we have described, Dahmer was not trying to hide his crimes in any conventional sense. He did not try to find random victims, he did not attempt to clean up the crime scene, and he did not try to hide the bodies.

father figure is one of the major factors determining the character of the child during infancy, particularly when it comes to boys.

As for the mother’s role as primary caretaker? It is known that boys who share a healthy relationship with their mothers from their early childhood are emotionally strong and are believed to have less behavioural problems in their lives.

These are not the same as the sadistic, sexual predators like Ted Bundy, John Wayne Gacy, or Jeffrey Dahmer, who would fit any definition we might want to apply. I prosecuted thirteen defendants during my time in Homicide who met the most basic requirements, but only six were true serial killers, and between them they likely accounted for well over a hundred murders, and certainly over a hundred separate sexual assaults. They were clever, prolific, and incredibly cruel.

In May 1990, Dahmer moved out of his grandmother's house for the final time and took up residence at the address that would later became infamous: Apartment 213, 924 North 25th Street, Milwaukee. Now

You see the problem is us—our perception. We simply cannot conceive how anyone could rape and kill a teenage boy, or strangle a woman and cut her into tiny pieces, and yet that's exactly what these monsters did. For those of us with a sound mind, there has to be something else at work. And so we come up with Satan, Lucifer, the Devil. As if the notion of some external evil spirit excuses them from their villainy. I think they have no such excuse. We should not give them any place to hide. “We personify evil. We turn evil into a devil, but there's no such creature as Baal or Beelzebub. There's just us. This universe is what we make of it. We have to make this world better in spite of the Dahmers and the Gacys. “Never forget, these monsters had mothers and fathers, brothers and sisters who loved them, who cried when they went to the electric chair. They grew up just like we did, laughing at the same movies, kicking a soccer ball around in the park and throwing a Frisbee for the family dog. And yet somewhere along the line, the wheels fell off the train. At some point, rage or jealousy, lust or envy got the better of them. They wanted power. They wanted control. They succumbed to their own base desires, not those of some mythical demigod rising out of the fires of Hades.

He would drill holes into the skulls of his living victims, then inject hydrochloric acid or boiling water into the frontal lobe area of their brains. When these experiments failed to achieve the desired result, Dahmer simply dispatched the unfortunate victim,

Wisconsin has no death penalty statute on its books, so that was never an option. Instead, Dahmer received 15 life terms, amounting to a total of 957 years in prison. 

You don't kick people out of the family. That's why it's family. Even Jeffrey Dahmer's family still loved him. There is nothing that you could have done to warrant being expelled from your own family.

At such times as that, when the TV cameras begin creeping up on a mother weeping at her son's coffin, journalists should wonder where the profession is heading.

The killing of Steven Tuomi may have been unintentional, but it whetted Dahmer’s appetite for murder.

Dahmer later stated that he was strongly attracted to Sears and it is perhaps for this reason that he retained some of his body parts, the first time he had done so. He preserved Sears’ skull and genitalia in acetone, storing them in his work locker before he moved them to his new apartment the following year. 

Columbia Correctional Institute by fellow inmate Christopher Scarver in 1994, in part because Dahmer spent his time in prison taunting other inmates with dioramas of his crimes fashioned from his prison dinners. Scarver

Or the ploy Dahmer used—that classic had proven to do the job in all the decades following. Lone woman struggling to lift something heavy into the back of a vehicle. Can

housed in prison with Dahmer since 1992 for killing his boss in 1990 – said Dahmer would create severed limbs from his food, then drizzle them with packets of ketchup, leaving them in places where they would be easily noticed. “He

I’d learn over time to insist on chatting by phone before hooking up. It was prudent, I thought, to see if the guy sounded like the type who might ejaculate and then murder me in the throes of shame, or lock me in his basement for the remainder of my life, or hold me down and rape me. Or drill holes in my head and inject boiling water and hydrochloric acid into my brain, the way Jeffrey Dahmer did with his hook-ups to try and turn them into sex zombies.

Is there any way we can make you more comfortable until she gets here?” “You can get that bastard out of the front seat and cut his head off,” Leigh said weakly. Valerie grimaced and glanced to Anders, saying, “She’s delirious. She keeps thinking I’m Jeffrey Dahmer or something.” “No. It’s the Queen of Hearts, remember?” Leigh said on a weak laugh, and then added wearily, “Just get him out of here and make sure he doesn’t escape or rise up and kill us all while you three are distracted watching me try to squeeze out Lucian’s humongous progeny.

Most of his face had been hidden by long, greasy bangs, and he mumbled in a low voice that made him difficult to understand. From what little Kyosuke had been able to make out, Usami had killed one person, but he mostly spent his time at the podium reciting strange names that Kyousuke didn't recognize like Jeffrey Dahmer and Ed Gein... Maybe they're actors?

Somewhere in her journey, Paige Kotes had become a notorious murderer. A serial killer popular in the news, and with a level of notoriety like Ted Bundy, John Wayne Gacy and Jeffrey Dahmer.

nightmares – a nocturnal, flesh-eating beast? Was Jeffrey

Okay, Jeffrey Dahmer is not exactly god but also not exactly human. He pushed addiction to the nth degree and beyond. He stalked straight out of Normal, left it behind, and entered his own State of Being with his own merciless theology.

We’re not looking for someone walking around right now. We’re looking for whatever is left.

It makes the most grotesque killings look antiseptic, staged. Like you’re in a new and daring section of Disney World. Dahmer Land. Come ride the refrigerator.

When Richard was asked recently how to avoid becoming the victim of a serial murderer, he said, “You can’t. Once they are focused on you, have you where you are vulnerable, you’re all theirs. Dahmer used to invite you home for a drink, and the next thing you knew, he’s eating you. Same thing with John Gacy: he’d put on his clown face, do a couple of tricks, and suddenly he had you handcuffed and in his control. What people can do is not trust someone you don’t know and to always be aware of what’s going on around you. When you drop your guard—that’s when a serial killer moves.

Now, can we get on with this? I have a four o’clock I wish to attend to. We always butt fuck Jeffrey Dahmer on Christmas Eve, and I’d hate to miss it.

Hey, TG,” Reid says, holding up a piece of toast. “You watch that new documentary on Dahmer?” “Dude, you know the rule,” Kirby says. “No talking about cannibalism while we eat.

I should have gone to college and gone into real estate and got myself an aquarium. That’s what I should have done.

trained myself to view people as objects of potential pleasure instead of people.

Show me your suspect and I'll show you the evidence." ====Willis R. Morgan====

Show me your suspect, and I'll show you the evidence.

We tried to make sure Adam didn’t die in vain. We have always said, if his song is to continue then we must do the singing.

When you’ve done the types of things I’ve done, it’s easier not to reflect on yourself.

Yes, I do have remorse, but I’m not even sure myself whether it is as profound as it should be. I’ve always wondered myself why I don’t feel more remorse

This is America’s most famous child abduction case, perpetrated by America’s most infamous serial killer, investigated by America’s most clueless homicide detectives.

Tastes like chicken.

continuing. “You’re not going to believe this, but it was me. I’m the officer that stopped him that night. I remember shining my flashlight on those garbage bags. I just can’t believe

If just one adult had stepped up and said, 'Whoa, this kid needs help,' could Dahmer have been saved? Or his victims spared their grisly fate? I’m not saying that he would have had a normal life… He probably would have spent the rest of his days doped up on antidepressants and living in his dad’s spare room. A sad, lonely life that Dahmer would have gladly accepted over the hellish future that awaited him.

Isaac was a sociopath, and all sociopaths, be they Ted Bundy, Jeffery Dahmer, or Jenna's own mother, shared certain traits. One of those traits: they always played by their own rules, rules that set double standards—one standard for only them, and another standard for everyone else.

No one had figured out any of the other murders he’d done, had they? They got John Wayne Gacy, Jr., after over thirty murders in Chitown. Jeffrey Dahmer went down after seventeen in Milwaukee. Gary had murdered more than both of them put together. But no one knew who he was, or where he was, or what he planned to do next.