I tried to imagine Rader back here, playing with his kids, pushing his daughter, Kerri, on the now rusted swing set or sitting up on the now splintered planked floor of the treehouse with Brian. No matter how I attempted to picture a scene out of an idyllic Norman Rockwell painting, the images of Rader interacting with his family always lapsed into something hellish, terrifying, something resembling a canvas by Hieronymus Bosch. The vision caused me to experience yet another deep pang of pity for Rader’s wife and kids. What could compel a man to play charades like that with the three people who trusted him most?
The rickety aluminum and wood bench sat in a corner of the yard near the swing set, facing away from the house. I dropped down on it, feeling it nearly collapse beneath my weight, then closed my eyes for a moment, listening to the pulsing sounds the locusts made in the hot, still air. Off in the distance to the west, I could see a bank of dark storm clouds forming.
I thought back to that sweltering afternoon in August 2005 when millions of Americans glued themselves to their TV sets as BTK detailed his murders. Listening to how calculated and planned each of his homicides were, hearing him discussing his crimes like a chef discussing a menu, sickened me—even with all my experience with guys like this. I’ve often wondered about the impact it must have had on regular folks. Standing there in that Sedgwick County courtroom in the suit he’d last worn to church, Rader became our nation’s newest, darkest anticelebrity.
Tucked away in the front pocket of my shirt was the letter I’d found in my room last night. I rubbed my fingers over the fabric to make sure it was still there before pulling it out, unfolding it, then spending the next few minutes reading over the three pages of text again.
I wondered if Paula ever sat out here on those Saturday mornings when, I was told, Dennis used to shoo everybody out of the house so that he could “tidy” the place up, leaving him alone to rummage through his stash of mementos from his kill.
I wondered if this might have been where she went the first time she caught her husband hanging himself in drag. I tried to picture her out here, confused, hurt, wondering how the man who always told her he loved her could do such a thing. In her own way, Paula Rader performed a minor miracle. Although this is of no consolation to the families whose relatives her husband murdered, when Paula stumbled on Dennis hanging from the bathroom door, she inadvertently forced him to go into a type of low-grade hibernation. Outside of being arrested or killed, this was potentially the best thing that could have happened to Rader, preventing him from killing with even greater frequency. Who knows how many lives Paula may have saved?
It was nearly one in the afternoon. I had a night flight to catch back to Dulles International that left from Kansas City, so I decided it was time to start my four-hour drive to the airport. Walking back across Rader’s yard, part of me wanted to put a match to his house, to erase this ugly monument to the lie he lived for decades. I doubted any of his neighbors would care.
But, as interesting as I’d always found arson to be from a criminology standpoint, I hurried to my car, climbed inside, and cranked up the air conditioning. A few minutes later I was speeding past Wichita, making my way back to the interstate that would take me to Kansas City. Fields of wheat and corn rushed past my window for nearly an hour before I noticed the message light flashing on my cell phone.
I looked at the numbers and saw that Casarona had just called, so I retrieved the message.
“I can’t take this anymore,” she moaned. “Last night, I talked to Dennis. I swear to God half the time I feel like I’m talking to a little boy, not the monster I know he is.
“You know what he tells me? He tells me that he’s felt depressed all day and says, ‘I know I have no room to say this, but I really miss McDonald’s. I really miss their hamburgers and fries.’ I almost dropped my phone. Can you believe that? He killed ten people and he feels bad that he can’t have a cheeseburger and fries. What do you say to that? I wanted to throw up. I made myself stay calm. I felt like his mother or something.
“I said in this really patient voice, ‘Dennis, you really need to remember why you’re in there. You need to remember that.’
“He got all silent after that, then he said, ‘Yeah, I guess you’re right.’ I can’t take this anymore, John. Why did I ever write him that damn letter? I have no idea how can you stand doing this . . .”
Casarona’s voice faded away. I figured I must have hit a dead zone.
I continued my trek east as my head churned through everything I’d absorbed over the past few days. Ten people were dead; countless other lives had holes torn out of them, holes that would forever remain empty.
All because of one man.
For just over three decades, I’d been trying to understand the man who called himself BTK. I’d now spent the past year immersing myself in his world, interviewing the cops who tracked him, talking to his friends, reading his journals, pouring through the words and images he left behind on paper. Here was what I had learned:
What was his motive? Initially, Rader’s motive for killing was simply to act out his bondage fantasies with a victim, then kill her. Nothing too complicated about that. But his reasons for killing began to evolve when he realized what effect his actions had on the men and women of Wichita. The adrenaline rush proved intoxicating. The community feared him. Overnight, he’d gone from being a pathetic nobody to an all-powerful puppet master. He pulled the strings and everybody danced. Before long, terrorizing the community and outwitting the police became as satisfying as acting out those dark fantasies on his victims.
How did he pick his victims? What Rader really sought were women who were vulnerable. Nothing more. His victims could be any age. All that mattered was that he could bind and dress them exactly the way he wanted. Rader really didn’t care what his victims looked like, because once he’d taken their lives, they became virtual entities existing only his mind, where he could sexually assault them over and over again, embellishing all the details of the crime or their physical features in any way he wanted.
How was he able to elude law enforcement for so long? Rader was a former criminal justice student and a police buff. He was an “organized type” of serial killer, meaning that he carefully thought about and planned each of his homicides. All of his victims—besides his neighbor Marine Hedge—were total strangers. For law enforcement, these so-called stranger homicides are the most difficult to solve. Something else he had going for him was patience. This is a quality not often found in the other serial killers I’ve studied. He didn’t murder with regularity. He could go years between killings because he was able to sustain his fantasies by taking personal items from his victims, then using them during his masturbation sessions while reliving his crimes.
Why had Rader resurfaced after all these years? In January 2004, the Wichita Eagle ran a thirtieth-anniversary story on the Otero homicides. The article chronicled the efforts of a local attorney who was in the process of writing a book about BTK. I learned that these two events worked together to flip a switch inside Rader’s fragile ego. He’d be damned if someone else was going to pen a book about him when he was the only one who knew what his motivation was; what drove him into bondage, torture, and killing; what really happened during each of his homicides. So he decided to write his own book, and eventually began sending messages to the media and police. In the end, his ego turned out to be his downfall; we in law enforcement should have used it against him much sooner.
What made Dennis Rader a serial killer? It has always been my opinion that killers like Rader aren’t born bad. From what I’d learned, Dennis wasn’t physically tortured as a child. His ideas about bondage stemmed from an experience he had had as a young boy, walking into his mother’s bedroom and finding her entangled in her bed. The image lodged inside his head and festered. Several years later, he began tying up animals, drawing pictures of torture chambers, and sketching portraits of women bound in ropes and chains. Later in life, Rader began to devour detective ma
gazines filled with stories about women being bound and tortured, along with true crime books. None of this material caused him to kill, but the material did fuel the preexisting fantasies that festered inside his head.
How can we prevent another BTK? It’s much too late to stop the pain and horror caused by BTK. But understanding where we went wrong in our investigation is the best way to prevent another BTK from enjoying such a long reign of terror and carnage. To answer that question you only have to start with that image of Rader’s wife walking in on her husband hanging himself in full drag. Both times this happened it scared the hell out of Dennis—not enough to keep him from killing again, but enough to spook him. He feared that Paula would be able to connect the dots and gulp, “Oh my God, my husband is BTK!”
But another part of him knew that he had little to worry about. Why? Because in those early years of the case, law enforcement agencies released precious little information about the UNSUB’s probable behavior, traits, and characteristics.
That was where I now believed we should have handled things differently.
We knew from BTK’s writings that at the very least, he was a police buff. More than likely, he was a wannabe cop. He described the scenes of his crimes as though he were a veteran member of CSI. I remember telling myself the first time I read his writings that in all probability, the UNSUB was a student of criminology. Knowing that Wichita State University offered such a program would have been a logical lead early on in the investigation.
We also knew from the crime scenes that BTK was heavily into bondage, an interest that doesn’t blossom overnight. Therefore it seemed logical that BTK would possess a stash of pornographic material containing a fair share of bondage photos.
His artistic ability was another trait that didn’t just sprout one day. Of course, he was far too careful to sketch women wrapped in ropes and chains while he was watching the nightly news with his family. But surely someone had witnessed him drawing human figures, possibly even women—perhaps it was something as simple as tracing a picture out of a magazine. Perhaps a family member had stumbled on a couple of Rader’s drawings of women in bondage, strapped to some torture device, or depictions of his crime scenes. Maybe that’s what his son saw. Yet because members of the community were unaware of all the specifics of Rader’s crimes, they couldn’t be expected to connect the dots even if they did find some of his drawings.
That’s one of the most important things I learned regarding proactive police techniques. Once the leads begin to dry up, law enforcement departments need to begin releasing more information. It’s crucial to get the community involved, to give people enough background into the case that they can better understand what drives the UNSUB, allowing them to become extra eyes and ears for law enforcement.
Police also had examples of BTK’s handwriting and did, at one point, release a sample of the writing to the media. That Paula, who once noted the similarities between BTK’s poor spelling and that of her husband, reportedly never saw this sample tells me that this release should have been handled in a different manner.
Several years ago, one of my former profilers working a triple homicide in the Tampa area came up with the idea of plastering a portion of a note written by the UNSUB on billboards in select parts of the city. Within twenty-four hours, someone recognized the handwriting, and the perp was arrested not long afterwards.
I strongly believe that Rader’s wife and children, his colleagues at work, his friends at Christ Lutheran Church, and other fathers in his Boy Scout troop could have recognized the behavioral characteristics of Dennis Rader had we released this information sooner, in a systematic, controlled way. The problem was that in the 1970s and 1980s, we were still learning. That sort of thing just wasn’t done. Today I believe we’ve accumulated the smarts and experience to nip a serial killer like Dennis Rader in the bud.
Releasing this sort of information would have had a profound effect on Rader—or any UNSUB that law enforcement would be attempting to identify in an ongoing investigation. Turning up the heat in this way would have created a tremendous amount of stress, causing Rader to become even more nervous and preoccupied with the case. Once that happened, he’d begin exhibiting behavior that those around him would probably have never witnessed before.
This could include buying every available newspaper he could get his hands on, channel surfing the TV, and constantly switching between radio stations while listening for updates in the case. He might have begun either growing facial hair or shaving it off, losing weight or putting it on, drinking more than usual, becoming more prone to arguments, or experiencing difficulty falling asleep and then waking up in the middle of the night and listening to late-night news. Perhaps he would have been looking for a legitimate reason to leave town for short periods, or his behavior might morph from appearing incredibly rigid and overcontrolled to seeming sloppy, careless, and disorganized.
More than anything else, what the BTK case did was reinforce my belief that the authorities need to supply information to the general public the moment they’ve exhausted all logical leads. More often than not, this can occur within a few days or sometimes within a few hours of launching an investigation.
The key here, however, isn’t to release every bit of information known about the UNSUB—merely certain telling, helpful bits. The rest should be held back, lest the authorities be inundated with false confessions from people looking for some sort of perverted notoriety. Those select bits and pieces of the crime analysis that are released, along with interviews with investigators and press releases, should be distributed in piecemeal fashion. If no credible leads develop, the information should be periodically rereleased, along with fliers about the case, containing characteristics about the UNSUB.
Monetary rewards are another good idea. They seem to work best when the informer can remain anonymous. The informer is given a “code,” which is nothing more than an identifying number or a word, when he or she supplies a possible lead or suspect name. Money will be paid if there is an indictment, which tends to be more effective than saying that payment will be “based on a conviction.” Because this approach is designed purely for its “lead value,” it doesn’t require the informant to testify in court, another incentive, as in most cases the person being informed on is a family member, an associate from work, or a friend.
Another strong tool for law enforcement is the media. Although I’ve often been in the minority, I’ve always believed that the press can serve as a powerful ally of law enforcement. In many of the cases I worked on, I attempted to develop a strong bond with investigative reporters in the towns and cities where that particular crime had been perpetrated.
Unfortunately, even decades later, there are still some police departments and other law enforcement agencies whose only comment to the media is “No comment.” Big mistake. The media, if properly managed, can be good friends to a criminal investigation.
In the case of BTK, I believe police might have been more effective in their efforts to catch him if they’d played things a bit differently. Of course, back in the 1970s, that wasn’t how things were done. Police kept a tight lid on case information, releasing it only when absolutely necessary. But now we know differently, and I’m convinced that if the authorities had taken a more proactive approach, disseminating very specific details about BTK to the public, someone who was acquainted with Rader might have recognized him and tipped off police that they knew of someone who seemed to fit the description of the man they were seeking.
What sort of details would have allowed the public to make this connection? First, it would have been crucial to let the community know what sort of pre- and post-offense behavior someone like BTK would have exhibited. Second, his interest in detective magazines and bondage-oriented porn and his “gift” of drawing people, particularly women, would have been a useful bit of information to release. Another useful data point that should have been shared with the public involved BTK’s fascination with law enforcement and t
he likelihood that he might have attended Wichita State University. Finally, the likelihood that he practiced autoeroticism should have been circulated to the community. We now know that Paula caught her husband hanging himself on at least two occasions, but she was never quite clear on what he was actually doing and how it could have connected Dennis to the BTK murders.
Paula Rader had been a loyal and loving wife. But if she had somehow received more detailed information about the behavioral traits of the UNSUB terrorizing her community, I believe she would have notified law enforcement, telling them everything she knew—even if she had done so anonymously.
But that was then, and this is now. Since 1974 we’ve learned volumes from the Dennis Raders of the world. There will always be violent offenders, but today law enforcement has a much better understanding of the motives and the minds of violent offenders.
One of our greatest and most underused tools is the FBI’s Violent Criminal Apprehension Program, known as VICAP. What this computer analysis does is determine, for example, if two cases that occurred years apart and in different areas of the nation might have been perpetrated by the same offender.
Inside the Mind of BTK: The True Story Behind the Thirty-Year Hunt for the Notorious Wichita Serial Killer Page 42