by Jamal Shakur
“That’s a very interesting statement but it doesn’t have any merit, I know you are quite aware as an American citizen I can dress any way that I please, isn’t this same parallel that one could attest to by observing the Trayvon Martin case.” He said with an egotistic lisp though his voice. And I’m quite sure even as a White man I’m entitled to the same rights. He seemed to have all the answers as if he memorized them in case he was ever investigated. A perp like this one you couldn’t rattle with the option of taking him downtown, he would only lawyer up. Our only alternative was to closely follow him and hope that we would go unnoticed as we tailed him.
I put Omar and Denise on him, they watched him for a week, I look at their surveillance memos and it appeared as though our fellow led a very boring life, teaching a full professor’s load and then going home and ordering take out. But it appeared mighty fishy as if he knew he was being followed and straightening up for those who were watching him. I pulled them off the detail but I continued to watch him on my own time. It was approximately 3:00 in the morning and I noticed a figure draped in all black looming from his building. I couldn’t determine if it was Professor Strauss or not. He turned around briefly to ascertain if he was being watched. He obviously timed the detail that was watching him and felt safe to start his movements in a free way. I was certain I could keep watch of his every move sitting in the car but I had to suddenly abandon my vehicle, because I guess he used his suspicious nature and slipped away at the first alley way and turned right to an adjacent street. He was heading toward Broad Street which was almost desolate at this time of night.
There’s something in my long years of crime investigation that I have never done before and that is committing a B and E, but the perp wasn’t leaving much of an alternative. I came up to his front door and retrieved a credit card from my wallet and with the sliding downward of the card I was easily inside in a matter of minutes.
The dwelling was a modernly immaculate apartment with a dungeon like feel, if you could imagine that. I searched from room to room and came upon a closet like dwelling within the apartment which looks like it didn’t belong there. The walls were plastered with newspaper clips of all the murders that have taken place in the Philadelphia area. Other than the clippings on the wall there was no evidence of the crimes that were committed but I knew in my gut that he was the one and it was probably fortunate that I didn’t find anything because none of this could be used in a court of law because of my breaking in. But there on the counter was something I overlooked it was his lap top opened to the internet, I didn’t need a password, I could peruse everything on his computer, and everything was opened to me. However, I couldn’t tell anyone my source. I transferred over to the desktop and clicked on one his files, one of the files had an ominous label to it, and it was titled Vampire craving 101, which seems kind of arrogant and egotistic, obviously he wasn’t worried about anyone finding him out, the file was highly descriptive more of a history of murders of the past and research on ‘Vlad the Impaler’, otherwise known as Dracula. The information was clinical in nature some titles mention how the most famous surgeons in history did their work with illustrations and everything ; It seemed that he used his expertise as a professor to research and analyze the literature he was interested in , which exactly was his profession . I was reading this stuff very attentively and it occurred to me that the perp was writing this stuff without emotion almost dispassionately. My phone was turned off, I don’t know what’s up with me lately, I guess I’m becoming forgetful. My phone had about a hundred messages left on it and as soon as I cut on the switch the phone started to ring. It was Omar, “Hey it’s another one and not too far from your stakeout.”
The murder scene was outside a coffee spot in the back of its alleyway. It was a different type of killing unlike his other endeavors, this one was in a hurry and a gun was used, the coroner said possibly a 44 Magnum. But I had to go within my memory file, this was exactly like a previous murder of the unsub; a gun was used also in almost the same manner. We questioned the patrons inside; the loud blast from a 44 is very distinctive and very earsplitting. Surprisingly, no one heard anything. I further examined the crime scene and noticed there was splitters of shroud plastic from a soda bottle the 3 liter variety, evidently the perp used the bottle as a poor man’s silencer. The bottle evidently suppressed the sound. He was slick and knew his business but guys like this want to be caught and would eventually lead a path right to their door. He emptied the whole gun into the vic , it really seemed like overkill, the unsub truly showed his anger. The perp stood approximately ten feet from the victim which caused considerable amount of damage to the body
Ch 20
My best has always been the hard work that I have put into my investigations. I have a dog eared attitude in researching the perps that have committed insidious acts of aggression. Murder is an emotional act; the act in itself is an act of love in the unsubs eyes and head, but to the public he is a grotesque monster. Ironically, our laws don’t reflect our abhorrence to these denizens of hell for the majority of the so-called serial killers sit on death row for years without being executed. We have reluctance in dealing with these corrupt souls believing as long as they are locked away we go on to the next subject maybe Monday Night Football. We started again and back stepped to all the info about the unsub and victims that he murdered. It was curious that every time we came close to uncovering him, he would respond by killing anyway that he could to negate his signature killings.
I went back to the coffee shop that same evening I want to further question some of the customers, and it was strange but no one seen anything strange in the place but that’s not at all strange seeing as how people’s attention span is very short when their engrossed into the web sites on the internet, as I was standing there scanning the store no one had their heads up they were perpetual zombies watching a white screen that beckoned their souls. But there was one person I could count on was the proprietor, he or she would notice anything that had to do with running smoothly of their business. The young lady at the counter was a young thirtyish looking young woman, her eyes met mines suspiciously before I could get a word out but I did, “My name is detective Lomax and I have a few questions to ask you about the murder that happened just outside your door.”
She looked at me with a discerning eye, an eye of a proprietor who does business in a heavily crime filled area and is accustomed to the constant questioning of the police. “I seen something kind of suspicious there was a man standing over there near the soda machine but he was the kind of person that would go unnoticed even with his strange dress. I turned away for a second and turn around again and he vanished.”
I hovered around a few customers and asked them about anything that they could have seen but no one seen anything, including the sinister man in black. I didn’t have any proof but it appeared to be Professor Strauss. I had one thing that I could further look into was the professor’s laptop which he would probably report as stolen; but in his position and want probably is on that computer he wouldn’t want to say anything about it . The professor is a smart guy which in more case than one knew the legal ramifications of the act I committed. Hence, if the police have it that they have received evidence by illegal means then everything discovered on the laptop would be inadmissible in a court of law. With that in mind, I would have to go outside the police department to have someone with computer expertise to examine the hard drive of the perp’s lap top.
On arriving at the precinct I noticed everyone was on high alert which was unusual, it wasn’t anything occurring that I was aware of. I headed to my cubicle and to my surprise, a large figure dressed in all black was sitting at my chair, he was smiling from ear to ear, it was Baron Swartzman. I gave him the most serious look that I could possibly give from which he slowly rose from my chair and sat in one of the seats that faced my desk on the other side. He was a young man with a very eccentric attitude. He had a lap top opened on the opposite seat. I noti
ced that he was always accompanied by his computer. I asked him out of curiosity and a purpose. “Are you any good at computer expertise, or are you just carrying it around with you as some sort of ornament.” He looked at me with a youthful smirk and said, “I am a graduate of MIT in computer science and have worked freelance for one of the most distinguished computer firms in the nation, is that good enough for you?”
“I’m going to tell you something and it’s something I’m going to trust you with but if you tell anyone especially other officers in the police department I will deny it and place the blame on you.” I said.
“So what’s up,” he said.
“To answer your question, I have possession of the lap top of the person we think who has committed these murders; I want you to examine everything he has in his files and extract any pertinent information, “I said quietly.
Ch 21
It was November; daylight saving time had passed over ten days ago. Philly had become Seattle, it was constantly raining and darkness took hold. Hurricane Sandy blew her grotesque top, New York was devastated but Philly only took a small hit. But the leftover was a perpetual darkness that not only affected us visually but physically as well. Our spirits were downtrodden. Maybe the climate change had finally taken hold and changed our environment if the ice glaciers can steadily disappear, than I presume we can be the entertainers of total blackness. This event seemed to bring out all the crazies; murder was an outgoing entertainment as if this whole scenario was a clue to commit mayhem. For me it did do one thing that was positive, it kept me close to home. Momma and the children had seen the whole thing like a breath of fresh air that bought light to darkness.
I had a fortuitist break; Baron the so-called vampire slayer had some good news for me. He was at my office and sitting in my cubicle as before, if I didn’t know, it would seem as though he was stalking me. He was a very odd young man. But I had to utilize every tool at my disposal. The kid was in a jovial mood and said, “I checked his hard drive very thoroughly and it was amazing. He had files dating back ten years and each was an evolution of murders he committed with pictures graphs and blueprints. The guy is sick. “
It was a beautiful amount of data to know but none of which I could use. There was no report to any precinct in the city about the theft of his lap top but he knew he had us legally and it wasn’t anything we could do about it. However, we were on the right path and would give all our attention to his eventual arrest. I examined the files thoroughly, I had to tell the captain what I had done and I decided to keep it just between us but he didn’t mind telling me how disappointed he was in me. I separated the files and let my three detectives under me to decipher whatever they could learn.
I went home for the day but the following day Detective Denise was the first one at the precinct bright and early. “I have something unusual that I found,” she said. She continued, at the bottom of my page was a binary code which I translated:
01101101 01101111 01110010 01100101 00100000 01110111 01101001 01101100 01101100 00100000 01100100 01101001 01100101 00100000 00111111 00100000 01100100 01100101 01100011 01101001 01101101 01100001 01110100 01100101
the code said, “More will die? Decimate.”
“I was curious, so I researched the etymology of the word decimate and it was a word the Roman army would use signifying out of every group that committed treason ten would die. The count was seven that we could attribute to the perp. But when his number is reached would he stop or would he begin again after his quota is reached. Strange upon bizarre, the other two detectives came in and found the same inscription. The binary code itself is pretty simple, it’s not something that one would need a computer expert for but anyone with some elementary learning in computers could decipher it, which makes me believe that Strauss was only slightly worried about being probed or investigated by the police.
The bulletin board just outside my cubicle looked very unusual, normally we had unsubs and vics plastered on the board but this time we had all the files of Strauss named and tagged for all to see. It was odd but I was feeling something and couldn’t put my hand on it. It seems like I was looking at some sort of map and couldn’t figure out how to read if it was going north, south, east or west.
“It’s a map and he has left a zig zag trail of bodies all over Philly, “the voice said. The voice belonged to the Slayer; he went unnoticed in the room. It wasn’t remarkable for him to appear invisible, that was his way of being a mystery. If you lay a map of Philadelphia onto his grid you could follow his exact route, the man is a frickin genius, even if he is diabolical. The zig zag appearance is pre-planned, he is trying to give the appearance of random acts of murder but this is well planned and thought out.
It was extraordinary but with the exception of the captain, no one knew how I found this evidence and if the perp is ever arrested it would be thrown out of court, the pilfered evidence is called Fruit of the Poisonous Tree. But all this speculation about what I should or could do doesn’t matter now. The map theory was very interesting but how do we find out his next move; would he use this map or would he realize his plans are compromised because someone has his computer. For one thing his few stops in suburbia was a planned attack, we simply used a GPS map system and came up with a couple of destination probabilities.
Ch 22
Tuesday 9: 00 am
We got a few hits of probable map destinations on our computer and settled for Center City at 5th and Market Street. We were waiting for him. I was sitting in the car with detective Denise, she had this scent of roses that was very distinctive, normally I’d be in a stakeout with the big fellow Omar, the only scent that he knew and loved was the old guy’s aroma, Old Spice shaving lotion, so her presence both physically and atomically was quite refreshing. We sat for hours but there was no sign of the perpetrator. We had him pinned down to the block that he might select his next vic but not the exact house. Hence, it was necessary to use about six cars and the hope was he wouldn’t notice them. The van we were sitting in had tinted windows but we decided to forgo the other four cars and use two of the houses on the block that were vacant on each end of the block so that we could have a wide view of the entire street. This was a very quiet block; it wasn’t a soul in sight, only a little kid who was approaches our car at a steady klip as if he knew who we were.
“Mr. Lomax a man around the corner told me to hand you this bag.” The little boy whispered.
I took the bag and let Denise question him, he didn’t know anything not even how the perp looked. But the bag contained a DVD and a note. That said: “I must admit that I have been a long time admirer of your work, the many men you have had intellectual sparring matches with have been extraordinary. But U disappoint me, do U actually think U can capture me with these puny methods?”
He signed the letter with a black smiley face, and that was it. It was a wasted day but a good lead that leads to nowhere. We headed back to the station house to look at more of our options. Some people would get frustrated but this is the makeup of police work. It’s not easy but sometimes hard and difficult but sometimes a slit of daylight leads to something major. A perp makes a mistake, for instance someone like David Berkowitzaka the Son of Sam fame in New York was captured because of a traffic ticket.
It was obvious this guy wasn’t a dummy but most of these monsters are on the genius level but they can’t and won’t stop, because murder seems like it’s part of their DNA. Each killing opens up pheromones and delights them more than the act of sex itself. I had one guy who would ejaculate at the murder scene and leave his sperm residue all over the corpse. His was the extreme most would just feel inward pleasures but they had one thing in common, sexual impotence.
“We have a hot one, an officer has found a body right in back of the last coffee house that he recently committed a murder at earlier,” said Omar incredulously. It seemed like déjà vu, I gaze up at the sign before entering the ‘Its forever Coffee House’, I couldn’t say it was a pleasure to once more
return to the scene of a previous murder. These guys normally don’t do a ‘do over’ they normally seek out new spots to commit their transgressions. I only stayed in for a second; I stepped directly out the door to first look at the vic. The body was positioned in the same place as the previous body but this time it was a different twist, she was first strangled with a garrote and then her throat was slashed, her stomach was opened and her organs removed much like his first MO’s of his recent killing. This was a warning to us that he could do what he wanted to do and kill with impunity.
I received the body at the morgue; the body was almost identical to the earlier murders down to the opening of the abdominal and the abstraction of the organs and the implements used for the murder. It was like he was telling us he was back and watch out! I never pay much attention to the physique of the vic but this particular body was a very young and attractive girl. I would approximate the age of the vic at least from 16 – 18 years of age. That was a startling occurrence because this would be the youngest prey to date that the unsub has murdered and just like one of the earlier vic’s, a DVD was found in the opened cavity of the body.
We all crowded at my little desk area and flip on the TV and pushed the DVD player on start. The screen turned a multi colored rainbow and stop at the color of black. White letters flew across the screen. The first letters were my name, Lomax your Lover Boy is back and after that tiny letters pop up which said please scroll down and click on which you desire. We click on the first bulleted phrase which said check out this autopsy. Here he was in a white lab coat and mask with a scalpel in his hand as if he was about to dissect the cadaver.
He started off by turning on a tape recorder over his head and then proceeded to talk into microphone as if he were an actual ME. “I am cutting deep into the chest area, we have a heart belonging to a mature female of the Caucasian persuasion,” he stated with a slight giggle. He proceeded to next take a small saw in his hand and proceeded to slowly saw the scull of the cadaver and then remove the brain and place it on the scale to weigh it. It was incredible, it was almost comparable to a real ME’s dissection. After going through a few more incisions, he looked into the camera and said, “I’m as good as you, aren’t I, Lomax, “and then he howled liked a wounded animal but with joy.