Many accounts of Hicks’ murder give an appearance that the murder was an accident, that Jeff didn’t intentionally kill Hicks. Dahmer, likely lonely, just wanted to knock Hicks unconscious so he wouldn’t leave.
Some wonder if that one accidental death was the pivotal turning point in Jeffrey Dahmer’s legacy of horror.
That fall, Dahmer moved to Columbus, Ohio, to attend Ohio State University and major in business. His drinking continued quite heavily and because of his drinking, he was never able to keep his grades up. By semester’s end, he was failing and dropped out.
In the meantime, Jeff’s father began dating a woman named Shari and, on December 24, 1978, they were married. Two weeks later, Lionel, upset with Jeff for flunking out of college, dragged his son to the Army recruiter’s office, and insisted that he enlist. Jeff did his basic training at Fort McClellan in Anniston, Alabama, and became a military police officer.
Jeff’s years in the military were uneventful. He was transferred to Fort Sam Houston in San Antonio, Texas, where he completed a six-month course as a medical specialist. In July 1979, he went overseas to Baumholder in West Germany. Most people, authorities included, believe Jeff did not engage in any criminal or homosexual activities while in the Army.
In March 1981, at the age of twenty-one, Jeff was still drinking heavily and the Army discharged him under Chapter 9 of the code of military justice, the section that covers abuse of alcohol and drugs.
He went to Miami, where four months later, in the summer of 1981, he got a job at a sub sandwich shop. His income was so low that he couldn’t afford decent housing and often slept on the beach. After six unsuccessful months in Florida, his stepmother, Shari, called him, asking him return home. He stayed with Shari and Lionel until the following year.
The relationship between Lionel and Jeff was difficult. In 1982, Jeff left Ohio and, at his father’s suggestion, moved to the Milwaukee suburb of West Allis to live with his paternal grandmother.
Jeff worked as a phlebotomist, a skill he learned in the Army, drawing blood samples at Milwaukee Blood Plasma.
In August 1982, not long after he arrived in Wisconsin, Jeff was arrested for exposing himself in a public area. Because of his arrest, he lost his job. He continued to live with his grandmother, but didn’t land another job for more than two years. Finally, Jeff found a position at Ambrosia Chocolate Factory in downtown Milwaukee. His job responsibility surrounded mixing ingredients for chocolate products.
After twenty months of employment at Ambrosia Chocolate, he was arrested and convicted for masturbating on the riverbank of the Kinnickinnic River in Milwaukee. As a twenty-six year old, he received one year of probation by the Milwaukee Circuit Court and underwent psychological therapy.
During his therapy, a psychiatrist diagnosed him with a schizoid personality wherein a person loses contact with reality, experiences a disintegrated personality, and may even have hallucinations.
The following year, 1987, Dahmer started frequenting gay taverns in Milwaukee, including Club 219, where he often hung out after work and on weekends. In September, he met his second victim, Steven Tuomi. Tuomi was the victim whose body was stuffed into a suitcase, chopped up, and dispersed. Tuomi’s body was never found.
Around the same time, Jeff started reading books on Cryonics. Cryonics is the practice of freezing a dead, diseased human in hopes of resurrection at some point in the future, after finding a cure for whatever disease may have afflicted them. The concept fascinated Jeff.
Jeff’s murderous compulsion was in a fledgling stage. In April of 1988, after Jeff had already killed two more victims, he met Ronald Flowers in Zion, Illinois. He brought the young Flowers to his grandmother’s house, but Jeff’s grandmother saw them in the living room and asked Jeff not to bring his friends home anymore. In fact, she told Jeff she thought it was time he got his own apartment. Flowers didn’t know it at the time, but Jeff’s grandmother likely saved his life.
When Jeff was arrested in 1988 for sexually assaulting a minor, after his single day of freedom associated with living on his own, Jeff’s father hired Attorney Gerald Boyle to represent his son for the first time. Jeff, convicted, received five years’ probation and one year at the House of Corrections as part of the work-release program.
His brush with the law didn’t deter Jeff. He continued his spree and actually accelerated the rate at which he was killing. In June and through July of 1990, he averaged killing one victim per week.
It was shocking to learn that those horrendous murders were committed while Dahmer was under the supervision of a probation officer. Dahmer’s ability to fool not only his victims, but authority figures as well, with believable stories was perhaps the reason he was able to carry on his monstrous madness for so long. That each of his victims willingly entered his apartment reflect his uncanny ability to lie and manipulate. As Dahmer pointed out to authorities later, none of his victims seemed to suffer any pain as they were heavily drugged into unconsciousness before their deaths.
Near the end of July 1990, Tracy Edwards famously managed escape from Jeff’s grasp, ultimately leading to his arrest. Dahmer’s world of evil was finally penetrated; his house of horror, lust, deceit, murder, and sexual deprivation crumbled around him.
During his trial, Dahmer wondered aloud if there was such a thing as a satanic influence and if it was possible that evil spirits controlled him during his reign of revulsion. Dahmer obviously knew about Satan but I questioned if he knew about God. Maybe, if he had only let the power of God influence him and help him fight evil, things would have been different.
Ten
The Great Weapons Search
They will be rounded up like prisoners and imprisoned in a dungeon until they are tried and condemned. (Isaiah 24:22, TLB)
The prison rules and procedures are set forth in the Department of Corrections’ Rules and Procedures handbook, a hefty book given to each prisoner upon his arrival at Columbia. There are basically eight major offenses an inmate can commit:
1. An offense against bodily security: battery, threats, fighting, or sexual assault;
2. An offense against institution security: inciting a riot, organizing group resistance, including petitions, or disguising your identity;
3. An offense against orders: disobeying orders, being disrespectful, lying about the staff, or getting involved with an enterprise or fraudulent activity;
4. An offense against property: damage or alteration of property, unauthorized transfer of property;
5. Contraband offenses: possession of drug paraphernalia; possession, manufacture, and alteration of weapons; unauthorized use of the mail;
6. Movement offenses: leaving assigned area, being in an unassigned area, entry of another inmate’s quarters;
7. Offenses against safety and health: misuse of prescription medication, disfigurement; or
8. Miscellaneous offenses: use of intoxicants, gambling, refusal to work or attend school, violation of institution policies and procedures.
For serious violations, such as disobeying an order, possession or use of drugs or weapons, fighting or stealing, the inmate is sent to temporary lockup.
When allegations like this surface, an inmate receives a due-process hearing where he is provided an opportunity to call witnesses, including fellow inmates, staff members, or officers. He also can choose a staff advocate and cross-examine that staff member at his hearing. The hearing by the adjustment committee normally takes place within two to twenty-one days after receiving the conduct report.
After the adjustment committee meets, an inmate can appeal the decision to the inmate complaint investigator (ICI). The ICI will make an impartial investigation of the inmate’s complaint and the inmate will receive a copy of the ICI’s decision. If the ICI’s decision is not to an inmate’s satisfaction, he may file an appeal with the Department of Justice’s Correction Complaint Examiner (CCE) in Madison.
I tell you all this because I experienced, first-hand, the internal
legal prison system, charged with No. 5: contraband, possession of weapons.
It was Friday, February 21, 1992. We were served breakfast in bags that morning and, right after we ate, inmates on Units 1 and 2 were handcuffed and escorted to the dayroom. While in the dayroom, officers searched our cells for weapons. Word spread quickly that Dahmer was going to be moving to a regular solitary-confinement cell and officials wanted to search cells to ensure nobody had weapons to harm him.
Security guards and officers meticulously combed each cell from top to bottom: window, walls, bed, toilet, sink, desk, and stool. They went through our personal letters, court papers, magazines, and books. They searched clothing, shoes, and personal items. Officers wrote reports on anyone who had any violation against any institutional policy or procedure.
At about 3:30 p.m., officers came to Cell 35–my cell. Handcuffed, they escorted me to the dayroom. During their search, an officer found a razor blade wedged between the window and the wall. The blade wasn’t mine; I was certain a prisoner who occupied my cell sometime before me left it behind. Nevertheless, I was not in a position to discuss my innocence, nor was I even asked.
I was immediately sent to Desegregation Unit 2. I relinquished my regular clothing and received orange clothes, sheets, a blanket, pillow, and pillowcase. The door slammed on Cell 2. I was in temporarily lockup until further notice.
Around 9:30 p.m., Officer Hoffman, the officer who found the razor blade in my cell, gave me a copy of Adult Conduct Report No. 392098, typed on Department of Health and Social Services, Division of Corrections letterhead. The report listed the charges brought against me. They were:
• Damage or alteration to property;
• Possession, manufacture, and alteration of weapons; and
• Possession of contraband, miscellaneous.
The officer wrote, “On the above date, 2/21/92, at 3:35 p.m., while searching inmate’s Martin, Calvin #139891, HU-2 [Housing Unit 2], Cell 35, I found a razor blade that has been removed from a razor. It also has tape placed across one side of the razor blade. The razor blade was concealed in the upper right side of the window screen.”
After hearing the allegations, I was really upset. I was finally turning my life around, making things better, and here I was, already incarcerated on modified charges and now blamed for a crime I did not commit.
I tried calmly explaining to Officer Hoffman that I was innocent and the evidence against me was from a prior inmate. I remember telling him specifically that it wasn’t my razor blade and that I hadn’t even been in that cell long. I relayed that I had heard the inmate housed there prior to me shaved with that specific type of razor and must have left the blade there. The razor in question was a “tractor blade” and I didn’t shave with that type of blade.
I thought it made sense and was easy to see the rationale I presented. How could it be my razor blade? I also pointed out that I wasn’t exactly a neat freak. We all knew it was the guys with sloppy, messy cells who got surprise searches all the time. I connected the dots for him, citing that if I was intentionally hiding a weapon, I would have kept my cell spotless to avoid frequent searches.
I rambled on and on, trying in vain to get the officer to believe me. My effort didn’t seem to matter much. There wasn’t anything he could do, whether he believed me or not.
I requested that Officer Hoffman check with the canteen for orders turned in by the inmate who had previously been in Cell 35. If he ordered those tractortype blades from the canteen, I was positive I could convince the committee of my innocence.
The officer merely relayed that I would be granted due process.
The next day, February 23, I sent a note to the warden, explained the battery of things I had already tried to tell Officer Hoffman. I also wrote a letter to the security director, Mr. Davidson.
On February 24, I received a memo from Warden Endicott that stated: “I have received your note of 2/23/92 regarding a conduct report you received. It is clear from your letter that you have not been seen by the Due Process Committee. It would be inappropriate for me to become involved in this matter at this time. If and when you are found guilty of this offense, you do have the right to appeal the Due Process Committee’s decision to the warden’s office. I will become involved in the matter at that time.”
I also received a memo from Captain Marv Prieve, the security director. The subject was “Pending Conduct Report.” Captain Prieve’s memo stated: “I have received your letter to Mr. Davidson, dated 2/23/92. That conduct report was reviewed and determined to be a major offense. You will be afforded an opportunity to call witnesses and/or present evidence at your due-process hearing, which is scheduled for March 11, 1992, in Desegregation Unit 1. Until that time you will stay in DS-2, cell number two. If you are dissatisfied with the outcome of the hearing, you do have appeal rights.”
I remained in solitary confinement, Cell 2, from February 21 through March 11.
Being in solitary confinement, or temporary lockup, was almost as drastic as going to prison in the first place. It was a difficult adjustment. We couldn’t even socialize during meals, which we received through the trap on the door. Because all inmates on Units 1 and 2 were still on lockdown, all meals were in bags or on Styrofoam trays.
There was no television or a radio.
Recreation was three times a week instead of daily. I could have three showers a week and one ten-minute phone call.
Knowing I was innocent, I was frustrated. Maybe beyond frustrated. I wanted to attend school, group meetings, canteen, recreation, and chapel services. I wanted to do the things that not only kept me occupied, but things that kept me on the right path. I wanted things that helped me in my journey to become a good person. Instead, I was confined to a cell.
Days were long; nights were longer. I spent my new-found “down-time” consumed with praying and reading my Bible, which was getting dog-eared with use. The long, cold days of February slowly turned into March.
Then, just as suddenly, my life became interesting. A new prisoner moved into DS-2, Cell 1, right next-door to mine.
Eleven
And So It Begins
If you will stir up this inner power, you will never be afraid to tell others about our Lord, or to let them know that I am your friend even though I am here in jail for Christ’s sake. You will be ready to suffer with me for the Lord, for he will give you strength in suffering. (II Timothy 1:8, TLB)
On the afternoon of Monday, March 2, 1992, Dahmer transferred from the glass tank in Desegregation Unit 1 to Cell 1 in Desegregation Unit 2, right next to mine.
When Jeffrey arrived, I was reading my Bible and trying to talk with inmates in other cells about scriptures. At that point, I’d only been a Christian for a year and a half so I was by no means a biblical scholar. I enjoyed discussions about the Bible. Some inmates were believers; others were not.
Before Jeff arrived, some of the inmates on our tier, like inmates and citizens everywhere, were saying bad things about him. The majority were completely convinced he was a racist and hated minorities.
The scene was set and it wasn’t exactly a “welcoming committee.” Immediately after Dahmer arrived, verbal abuse and threats against him began.
“If I ever see you alone, I’ll kill you, you racist pig!” one inmate shouted.
The shouts and jeers escalated. Dahmer never said a word. One inmate asked what he did with all his victims. No response. More questions and jeers flew at him like, “Did the male parts taste good?” or “did you have a feast with all those feet you had on hand?”
Dahmer remained silent.
The questions, swearing, threats, jokes, and comments continued and got louder. I tried to defuse the situation and asked the other inmates to keep the noise down so I could talk to a few people. Some guy shouted at me, “You’re not the only one who wants to talk. Other people do, too.”
The noise continued all afternoon.
At 4 p.m., we had standing count. Supper, served on a pla
stic tray, passed through the door traps at 4:30 p.m. When Jeff received his tray, some of the inmates started yelling again. “Does this taste better than human meat? Which one tastes better?”
As before, Dahmer didn’t respond.
They continued.
“Hey, Jeff, do you prefer dark meat or white meat?”
“He definitely preferred dark meat over white meat!” one of the white guys jeered.
“Brother, Jeff consumed more red than white meat,” said one Hispanic inmate, laughing.
No sound came from Cell 1.
After a few minutes, one guy shouted, “Hey, Jeff, how’s the corpse?”
That time, much to everyone’s surprise, Dahmer replied. “Chunky,” he said, “delicious and tasty.”
After supper, an officer collected all the trays and gave Dahmer his medication. I learned later that he’d been taking the same prescription drugs for a couple years, prescribed by a psychiatrist after his sexual-assault charge. The two drugs were Lorazepam and Doxepin. Lorazepam is a drug used to control anxiety and acts as a relaxant. It’s for people with high stress or nervous conditions. Doxepin is an anti-depressant or sleep aid.
He received both drugs four times a day.
Right after supper, the clamor started again. “Did you eat all the meat on your tray, you animal?” They continued calling him a racist and making other derogatory remarks that crossed their minds.
I don’t know why, but I had enough. “Hey, that man has already been given his time,” I told the outspoken inmates. “He’s being punished for what he did. He got caught for all his wrong-doing and now he’s doing time for the rest of his life. So let the man rest. He’s entitled to that. He’s entitled to be left alone.”
Even Dahmer didn’t deserve the onslaught of abuse. As a Christian, I believed that even though this man did horrible things he was still just a sinner, just like the rest of us. In God’s eyes, we are all His children, and wishing pain and hurt upon someone else makes us no better. For that matter, who were we to judge him?
Serial Killer's Soul Page 8