It’s the ultimate crime. Murder. Throughout history & civilization- fables, scripture, folklore, literature, television and film, whatever medium that aligns the human race and explores it, the story of good and evil is constant and persistent. Cain and Able, two brothers one murder over envy and one angry God.
“I know not. Am I my brother’s keeper?”, or whatever revision or origin of scripture told us was Cain’s despicable reply when the Lord asked where Able, his devout brother was.
Whether you believe the story or not, from the ignorant, to the enlightened. The devout, obsessed, believer or non, it’s a true story. It’s a testament of the dark reality of the being a brother or sister of the human race. But it really begs to explore Cain’s question.
Are we keepers of our brothers and sisters? I’d like to think so, but it starts to get complicated. In literature and film, it’s black and white. Good vs evil. Evil appears to disrupt, Good restores. There is a balance. In the real world, it gets messy. Does good kill justly? Does good people sometimes do bad things? Well intentions in life in general- one is in crisis. Life falls apart. Torment. Being cornered. Bullied. Mocked.
Tortured…
Ancient eastern culture addressed it a bit. Yin-Yang- little good in evil and a little evil in good.
Realists such as myself know the real answer. It’s not simple, but it’s true. While I could explore the entire concept and write volumes of examples and attempt to simplify what is who and why, how so and where, this is the origin of the concept of good vs evil, the balance of the force and why it prevails and it becomes much more complex- this is not that story. If it was, there would be many more questions than answers.
People kill. Deep down inside us all, we are not quite ready to admit it, but it has crossed our minds. Sometimes it goes much further than that. While some will take a brief moment to think about it, others will start the process. They prepare and research. Then they stop. Fantasize and then let it go. Others, just like most murders arise out of a situation, a right, a wrong an almost wrong, a perceived wrong- will execute. Life is balanced or it’s falling apart. One becomes desperate or sick. Then there is greed, jealousy, envy, sloth and lust- then gluttony and of course wrath. Right. He had it coming. She shouldn’t have done that. Where were the parents? She should have gotten help.
Fuck’em!/ Goddamn whore.
It’s our response to when people kill that reveals our true nature. Yes, killing is sometimes okay. Two wrongs don’t make a right, but that’s what happens when you cheat. You play with fire and you get burned. hate to hear it, but they ought to know better. I feel sorry for the kids. The parents. Her husband. His wife. That’s too bad, she once had it all until she started doing what she’s doing. It is a nasty world. We have explored it and attempted to invent and make sense of it. Find that balance and straighten up.
This is not that story. Damn near every excuse, plot and hypothetical has been explored, conveyed or discussed over drinks, in film or literature.
Would you kill to survive?
What if they molested your kids, would you kill them?
What if you needed $100,000 to save your wife, would you rob and kill?
What if you and your kids were a few days from eviction?
Would you kill?
Smart people will say no. Realists say yes and the religious say I’m not the judge of that. Again, this is not that story.
There is something so dark and heinous. Evil manifests out of the night, destroys a life for no reason explainable or justifiable. Pure destruction and carnage. And then disappears as the sun rises.
Predators prey on the weak and innocent, destroy them with no provocation. Rage and hate so shocking, that communities don’t recover. For centuries it was believed we could see these people, they looked or carried themselves a certain way. The blood of innocent men and women spilled in the name of justice.
We were wrong.
Even when superstition and misconception was replaced with science and research, we looked to identify these predators, at least predict them. Know who they are, what type of person they would be without knowing their name. They would look evil. They would be a deviant who could not control themselves. They would stick out. Obvious to us all, as they could not be one of us. Incapable of love. They can’t hold employment. They wouldn’t be married. On and on.
We were wrong.
Joseph Deangelo has proven us, the experts and society wrong once again. Like Ridgeway, Rader and Gacy before, another exception and not the rule. There are no exceptions or rules, without a doubt. They are among us. They blend in, They are employed, with families. Some are considered pillars or the community, well liked and loved. Yet they commit unspeakable acts that one cannot understand.
Bringing a serial killer back to life is no easy task. The pain and destruction they caused have ripped families apart, left survivors in fear and communities wounded, reeling in horror- hoping that pulling a blanket over their head like a child paralyzed in fear; if they cannot see the monster- then it cannot harm them.
Over thirty years ago, a killer roamed our interstates right in the American heartland. Just when the night was darkest, before twilight forced this monster back in his hole, he robbed Vicky Heath, Peggy Gill and Jeanne Gilbert of their lives in the most horrific way possible. He was last heard from 1991 with two more acts of unspeakable violence and then he was gone. Little is known about this killer and details are scarce. Despite his brutality and brazen acts of violence, he managed to avoid the national spotlight and faded from view.
My True Crime Investigates resurrects a case a 20 years in the making- the elusive I-65 Serial Killer. Perpetrator of the robbery, rape and murders of three women working in hotels, with two more confirmed attacks leaving survivors. A killer who also may be responsible for another string of robbery/homicides in Indiana, Kentucky, and Illinois from 1987 to 1991.
He may more appropriately be the Hotel Clerk Killer.
