Just the thought of a serial killer is already ghastly, what to speak of having an encounter with the monster itself? The experience would leave a mark on your mind for the rest of your life. The AskReddit community has a lot of stories to tell when they got to actually meet a serial killer. Read on.
Comments have been edited for clarity. The source can be found the end of the article.
Jay Johnson, who is rather well known due to his slaying of two men and the wounding of another in separate attacks shortly after graduating from the school was a student at the college where I was teaching in the late 80s and early 90s. It was his goal to become a serial killer of gay men. What complicates the story is that he was gay and apparently had been diagnosed with HIV.
I remember him very well as one of the more intelligent and verbal students of his era. When Jack Kemp held a speech on campus, for instance, Jay was the one who asked the most intelligent question. I only spoke to him in passing but he was a regular on the hallway of my office due to the fact that his adviser was in a neighboring office.
Several years later, he was featured in a movie called Licensed to Kill (1997). This is the blurb that appears about him and his crimes: Licensed to Kill (1997 film).
“Jay Johnson, murderer of former State Senator John Chenoweth and Joel Larson at gay hangouts in Minneapolis. Unlike the other murderers in the film, he recognized he was in fact gay himself both before and after his committed murders. He is currently serving two concurrent life terms at the St. Cloud Correctional Facility, as an openly gay man.”
I still regard this as a very tragic case that is almost mind-boggling in its complexity. If you watch the film, you will immediately recognize that he is a very intelligent but very confused individual who was as much a victim as a victimizer.
I wrote this answer and then kept it under wraps for almost a year as the case is still a bit of an open wound for people who were close to the young man and his parents.
Thomas L. Johnson
While in college, I worked at the same security guard company as Kenneth Bianchi, one of the Hillside Stranglers.
At the time, I was assigned to a graveyard shift at Bellingham Harbor and he was a roving supervisor who would stop by once or twice during my shift, make sure I was awake, chat for a minute or two and then head out to the next post.
And nope; there was nothing suspicious about him at all, at least to me. He didnt ring any alarm bells, say anything suspicious or creep me out.
He was just another guy with a mustache who happened to work at the same company. All of the fellow employees I spoke with after his arrest were shocked.
In hindsight, the fact that someone so amoral, remorseless and pitiless didnt send up a flare with my instincts did bother me for some time. I didnt know the two victims from Western Washington University, where I was a student, but the victims could easily have been any of dozens of women I knew there.
Chilling, really.
Jess Mulligan
Not quite in person.
But the egg that later became me was there when my mother danced one night with The Lady Killer Neville Heath, after he had killed Margery Gardner and just before he killed Doreen Marshall.
After killing Margery in London, Neville had fled to Bournemouth and taken a room at the Tollard Royal Hotel. Some time between then and the day he met Doreen, he met my mother and danced with her. She (and I believe my father) were holidaying there from Birmingham. Luckily he didn’t talk to her, or was dissuaded by the presence of my father, and he passed on.
As a police officer, I earned my M.Ed. and finished my career teaching inmates in a max security prison (26 students to a classroom). Every serial killer I interacted with was a highly manipulative liar.
The first thing I would do when getting a new inmate/student, or interviewing a potential education clerk, was read their C-file with the complete list of their convictions and criminal history. This gave me a better idea of how to conduct myself around them safely (does the inmate attack staff, do they attack from behind, etc). A lot of teachers wouldn’t read inmates files so they could free their mind to treat them all equally. Good luck with that… many prison educators (and medical staff) live in a correctional naive bubble exposing themselves to blackmail or worse.
Inmates will eventually talk about crimes (like you talk about your job), so knowing their history allows me to better assess their level of honesty. They’re also trying to profile staff to see who is vulnerable to manipulation. In my experience, nearly every felon operates at some level of dishonesty and manipulation… but without exception, serial killers were all highly manipulative liars, and probably all sociopathic narcissists. They are often quite charismatic to interact with, but their fantasies are beyond nightmare scenarios most of us ever consider, and they are far beyond any hope of rehabilitation.
Jim Fleckenstein
Yes. I worked for my dad one summer around 1982 at age of 15. One of my co workers was named Brandon Tholmer. He was very nice, outgoing and talkative. Everyone was shocked when he was convicted. No one in the company found anything odd or suspicious about him. He was well-liked by everyone. Four life terms for murders of elderly women.
Gary Friedman
I was in 6th grade (about 12 years old) when I met my first (and hopefully only) serial killer. I was at a water park in Sioux Falls, South Dakota. I was running on the stairs and sliced open my knee. The cut was about an inch deep. I waited for my sister to pick me up (it took way too long) and she took me to the hospital.
When I got to the hospital, Michael Swango was the doctor who treated me. I do not remember much, but I remember that he was very nice to me. He was professional and stitched up the inch deep hole in my knee.
A few years later, I learned that he was a serial killer. It was disturbing considering he was such a nice doctor.
Shawn Hermans
Harold Shipman.
He was known as Fred to his friends. He was one of the worlds most prolific serial killers with 204 proven victims and up to 250 suspected victims in total.
He was the doctor (GP) in Hyde in Greater Manchester who killed hundreds of his patients over 23 years. He was admired and respected by his patients. He was known as a very caring doctor always willing to make house visits. It was on many of these home visits he would inject diamorphine and kill his patients. He is suspected of murdering about one patient per month over 23 years. His motivation seems to have been the pleasure of power and killing.
Our lives intertwined in a number of ways. Firstly, he was the chair of the parent-teachers association at the school at which I worked. Secondly, a friend of my wife was married to another GP at a nearby surgery and often second signed the death certificates he falsified. My third connection was through one of the victims. She was the grandmother of a close friend of my eldest son.
He was unremarkable. A bit creepy arrogant and a little rude and abrupt but you wouldn’t have given him a second look. He always appeared unkempt and smelly.
He was a sad man. He mainly killed elderly patients who trusted him and were defenseless. His youngest suspected victim was a 4 year-old-child, which he killed with diamorphine injections.
He was caught when he tried to fraudulently alter the will of a victim so he could inherit her house. The full extent of his crimes were subsequently investigated by Dame Janet Smith.
He killed himself in jail.
Mark Weldon
I knew a gentleman that is now sitting on Death Row in San Quentin convicted of murdering 12 women (working girls). The exact number of actual victims is more but he was not tried on a few cases.
This man was friendly, lived in apartments behind my mothers beauty salon. He was known as Uncle Bill and frequently babysat for many of the kids that lived in the apartments. He worked for a family owned repair shop in town and he was well liked, personable and loved to enter chili cook-off’s.
He married a girl that attended my high school but I do not remember her and they had a child together. After he was arrested, we would come to learn that he was a disgusting, cruel, sadistic man who killed not only escorts but his own children.
He was somehow released from prison in Texas after serving 10 years for the murder of his child that he abused repeatedly and eventually died from the abuse.
He came back to South California where he had a clean slate and then he abused the daughter that he had with my classmates.
One of the escorts he killed was another of our classmates’ mother (substance abuse problem). After learning about him, it was almost like how did we not know? Everything he did and said was textbook behavior. It is disturbing because you always think you would be able to spot them out of a crowd but you don’t. His wife did not even know or suspect.
His name is William Suff.
I actually know a few different people that ended up becoming high profile murderers.
Dana Sue Grey a pretty hardcore and well-known murderer who would have received the death penalty but took LWOP. She was the best friend of a good friend of our families. Alejandro Avila was a classmate of mine, worked with my brother and cousin. He was convicted of murdering Samantha Runyon (Spelling?) and is also on Death Row in San Quentin. There are more but I’m getting creeper out thinking about them.
Tara Swick
I didnt exactly MEET him, but when I lived in Rochester NY, every day walking into work (this was back in the 80s), the bread truck would be outside the door, I entered and the delivery man would be coming out. Older guy. Stocky. I always said good morning and he always ignored me. This went on for I think a year. I always said good morning.
Right around that time, there were several murders of prostitutes in the city and there was quite the manhunt going on for the perpetrator. One day we heard that he was caught, so we turned on the news and there, in the courtroom, was the bread delivery guy – Arthur Shawcross.
Debra A. Brown
WhenI was about eight, my aunt, uncle and cousin John came to visit from Australia. Myuncle is my mothers brother. They had immigrated in the 60s and built a lifethere. They came over for Christmas to show their young son the snow he’d neverseen as well as to meet his grandmother and extended family.
I remember itclearly. It was boxing day and we all met at my grandmothers house. I was thesame age as my cousin. We were both eight and I remember distinctly playing withhim. Just two kids having fun. He seemed a nice enough kid and I remember playwrestling in the garden and playing board games with him, just ordinary familystuff at Christmas.
Aftera few weeks, they went back to Australia and I never met or heard from themagain, though my mom stayed in touch with her brother, my uncle.
Then one dayabout ten years ago. I got a call from my sister telling me to put the TV on.It was a news report about a particularly grizzly series of murders known as ‘The Snowtown Murders’. A group of psychos had murdered a bunch of people and stashedtheir bodies in barrels of acid inside a disused bank vault in the town ofSnowtown. They began by murdering those they labelled as pedophiles but quicklydegenerated into murdering people for their welfare cheques.
Severalpeople had been arrested including the ring leader, a guy called John Bunting.Yes, you have guessed it, he was my cousin. That little boy I played with as akid grew up into a vicious murdering serial killer. He was convicted alongsideseveral of his gang and, rightly, he will die in prison.
I was shocked atthe news of course but I didnt really know him and had no particular emotionalattachment to him. I only met him on that one occasion over Christmas when we werechildren but still, he is my cousin, part of my extended family and my bloodand that still makes my skin crawl.
Readthe case, it was really disturbing. They tortured their victims before killingthem. I hate him for what he did to those poor people he killed and also forwhat he did to my uncle and aunt. They have disowned him not surprisingly andhave moved away from home and changed their names but their lives are ruined too. How doyou live with the fact that your son is a notorious serial killer?
David Bunting
Thisanswer has a cultural context. In my country, there are very large tribalfights that sometimes go on for years.
However, inrecent years, many of these places are experiencing relative peace. One placeis called Surunki and its in the Enga Province.
I used to hikeand travel to many remote places in the country, be-friending local peopleeverywhere and counting on their hospitality and values to give me safe passagethrough different tribal areas.
Anyway, Surunkihas a large fresh water lake that I wanted to see. While up there, I met aninteresting fellow called Jack. He told me about the legend of the lakes and insistedthat I spend the rest of the day at his hamlet with his wife.
She was a nicelady.
Asthe day turned to night, I started to ask myself questions like why is hishouse built so low and into the ground and why arent there any young menaround his house – tribal societies tend to be very communal.
As he told mestories of the fights I realized that he must have been thirteen when he killedfor the first time. He was about 50 years old by then. He went on to tell meabout where he killed different enemies and how he killed them – like how anathlete may recall their best achievements. He had a tally. The hairs on theback of my hands and my neck where standing up in terror, though I was tryingnot to show it, using my journalism skills to ask questions and keep my witsand not show that I was terrified.
Iwas too scared to sleep that night. I didnt feel like I was in danger as Iwasnt the enemy, but this was a guy who just told me about the differentpeople he killed and how he killed them. What scared me was that, he could datewhen he killed them. His recall of each killing was crystal clear. He enjoyedkilling.
His wife came tomy rescue. She had told some young men in the hamlets near the main village, sothey came and invited me to go sleep around the fire at their mens house withthe other young, unmarried men.
Jack,can’t leave his area. His tribe has made peace with other tribes, and one of theterms was that Jack could never leave or be seen by the relatives of the peoplehe killed.
I met him by thelake. This is him in the video I shot of him telling me about the lake.
Is he a serialkiller? Maybe. Maybe not. He has killed a lot of people. He is more like asoldier for his tribe, a soldier who enjoyed killing.
Jaive Smare
I had a technique that I used when hitchhiking and it may well have saved me from a nasty end.
I was hitching along the Welsh borders one afternoon back in the early 80s. A dirty, battered van pulled up, kind of thing that farmers drove around in, possibly with a spare sheep in the back. The driver leaned over and opened the passenger door and told me to hop in. He was grinning and it was not a pretty sight, he was an ugly you-know-what.
This is where the technique comes in. Whenever someone stopped to pick me up I did two things with one piece of preparation beforehand. First thing was, if the door had been opened or in case it was, to step into a position where I would be on the wrong side of it to be pulled in, the door between me and the driver. I ALWAYS knew my route really well, Id study the map as if I was going to drive it myself. So I was prepared for this. I would ask the driver where he was going, even if he asked me first, Id just answer with the question and make him declare first.
That gave me the chance to say no thanks Im going somewhere else which would involve a fairly major detour to wherever he had said.
As he leaned across the passenger seat grinning, he kind of looked down and I saw what was there – 5 or 6 pretty nasty looking porn magazines,open on the passenger seat. I cant remember where he said he was going but clearly I wasnt going there. I pretended not to see the mags and just said thanks and started to head off . Fortunately he pulled away a bit sharpish.
It was a very quiet place, Id scarcely seen another car but at that moment, a brightly painted van sporting a sign for a hippy sort of clown act, festival entertainer, that sort of thing – came round the corner. I hadnt put my thumb out yet but the guy immediately pulled over and asked me if I was OK, who was that guy? I dont really know what prompted him to do it, it seemed to be an instinct, but he was plainly trustworthy and asked me if he could take me where I needed to go – he was worried and insistent. He was lovely and took me back to the place I was staying, lecturing me most of the way about hitching on my own.
The village was Much Marcle, a name many Brits will recognize from some of the ugliest news reports we have ever read. The man in the van was, without doubt, Fred West. Im very lucky.
Gina Ware
I wasn’t born at this time so it’s not really my story. It’s been repeated and talked about numerous times in my family but I never bothered to listen. Therefore, I might be wrong about some details.
My grand uncles (Lets call them uncle A and uncle J) used to have a gem business a long time ago in Sri Lanka. I’m not sure how or why but uncle somehow met Charles Sobraj and got him to invest in their business.
Wait… I really should have paid attention when this story was being told… over and over again. *Sigh*
Anyway, eventually one of my uncle’s shop workers found out who Charles Sobraj was and told my uncle about him. I think around that time he was caught after a failed robbery attempt and sent to prison in Nepal (I’m not 100% sure).
Later, the police told the family the plans that Charles Sobraj had for my uncles. He had planned to kill my Uncle J’s wife.
I really had just enough confidence to answer this question… Or so I thought but I realize I’m missing a lot of details on this story.
Kwan Jian
Itwas 2001, prior to the 9/11 attacks, and I was a junior in high school. Iattended a private school consisting of mostly rich kids or kids with a veryreligious upbringing, and at the time there were no security measures in place;no metal detectors, doors left unlocked during the day, no security cameras,etc.
I was sitting in Home Ec in the basement of the school as our teacherwrote notes on the white board, when suddenly a strange man came down thestairs, opened the door to our class, and walked in.
He was breathing heavilyand sweating profusely, mumbling a bunch of nonsense, blood dripping from hishands. He had a large knife in his waistband. He walked around the classroom aswe sat in silence, stunned. Then he started yelling things like, Live everyday as if its your last… you never know when your time is gonna come.
He continued mumbling and pacing around for probably five minutes before he exited the door and disappeared; it felt like an hour had passed while we watched this man, unsure of what he was going to do next.
He was caught by the police shortly thereafter, since they were already in the local area investigating a robbery and murder at a liquor store. This man who wandered into my school had robbed the store, stabbed and killed the owner, and injured a store worker as well. Our school no longer left the doors unlocked during the day after this happened.
Christine Cruz
Ipersonally have not, but both of my parents and my aunts, uncles andgrandparents have. My father grew up across the street from Canadian serialkiller and rapist Paul Bernardo. Paul and his fiance, Karla Homolka, murderedat least 4 girls and raped at least 13.
His parentsactually still live in the same house across from my grandparent’s house. Mydad remembers him being fairly normal, although all the windows in his parentshouse were always covered by blinds. It later emerged that he was abused by hisfather and that he was an illegitimate child, so this lay have had something todo with his issues. He used to play street hockey with all the kids on thestreet when they were young and my dad would talk to him occasionally whilewalking home from high school.
Theimage of him created by the media as a lady’s man was apparently incorrect asnobody my parents know remember him having many girlfriends.
Myparents told me a story of walking home at night after a party and beingstartled by someone walking very quickly behind them. It turned out to be Pauland he just said hello and continued on home. This was at the time wheneverybody in their area was on edge because the Scarborough Rapist (anunidentified male who raped many girls over a short period of time) was activein the area. Paul Bernardo ended up being identified as the Scarborough Rapistand admitted to many of the crimes associated.
Prettyfreaky if you ask me.
Mike Smith
I have prosecuted a serial rapist who was also a sociopath. He raped his first victim (as far as we know she was his first) when he was 13. He followed her home from a park where she was babysitting small children. I prosecuted him for a later attempted rape. His crimes were particularly scary because they were all stranger rapes.
When I prosecuted him he was 15. He went away to a Juvenile Reform Facility. I forgot about him. That was about 15 years ago. About a year ago I was reading an article about Civil Commitment in Washington State at McNeil Island.
In Washington, if you are a sex offender and due to be released from prison but it can be shown that you are not likely to be rehabilitated and will most likely re-offend, then you can be indefinitely civilly committed. Guess who had been transferred to McNeil Island? It was so eerie, I have prosecuted hundreds of people and he is one of the few, even at 15, that just emanated evil and soulessness.
Debra Burchett
I haven’t met one personally but possibly the next best (?) thing.
Back in the late 70s or early 80s, there was a mass murderer in London named Dennis Nilsen. He had a habit of cutting up his victims and then flushing the remains away, leading to an inevitable blockage of the drains that were at first thought to be the remains of someone’s KFC.
Anyway, he was caught and arrested. One of my flatmates in London at the time was the girlfriend of one of the detectives who had interrogated Nilsen, and he (the detective, not Nilsen!) used to visit our flat quite regularly. I asked him what he was like.
He replied that during one interrogation, Nilsen had smoked and finished a cigarette, and in the absence of an ashtray asked what to do with the butt. The policeman told him to “Just throw it down the sink”. Nilsen was reluctant to do so and responded, “The last time I put something down a sink I got into a lot of trouble.”
Ian McDonald
I haven’t met one personally but possibly the next best (?) thing.
Back in the late 70s or early 80s, there was a mass murderer in London named Dennis Nilsen. He had a habit of cutting up his victims and then flushing the remains away, leading to an inevitable blockage of the drains that were at first thought to be the remains of someone’s KFC.
Anyway, he was caught and arrested. One of my flatmates in London at the time was the girlfriend of one of the detectives who had interrogated Nilsen, and he (the detective, not Nilsen!) used to visit our flat quite regularly. I asked him what he was like.
He replied that during one interrogation, Nilsen had smoked and finished a cigarette, and in the absence of an ashtray asked what to do with the butt. The policeman told him to “Just throw it down the sink”. Nilsen was reluctant to do so and responded, “The last time I put something down a sink I got into a lot of trouble.”
Ian McDonald
I havent met a serial killer, but I have met a mass murderer (before he committed his crimes). A young family had visited our church multiple times around 2007 or 2008, and I greeted them because Im in charge of the welcome center so we interact with and help visitors.
A few months later, Mark (the dad) unexpectedly murdered his three young children (a 2-year-old daughter and two young sons ages 4 to 6) by drowning them, one by one, youngest to oldest, in a Baltimore hotel bathtub — on a day when he had visitation rights. He didnt physically hurt Amy, his estranged/ex-wife, because he wanted to punish her so she would have to live the rest of her life with the memories of their dead children. I havent seen him since (hes serving three life sentences in prison with no possibility of parole), but some of my friends do visit him.
It creeps me out whenever I see his handsome, energetic, smiling, happy face in my mind, and I pray that he comes to regret his actions and ask God — and his wife — for forgiveness.
Sarah Madden