I kept the first draft of the letter I wrote that night and mailed the good copy to Jeff through the prison mail system. Here’s what the letter said:
Hello Jeff.
First of all, I pray to God that you are doing OK. It’s good to always remember that God has always looked out for me by keeping in touch with good Christian people. Jeff, the scripture of Isaiah 61:1 says, “The spirit of the Lord God is upon me, because the Lord hath anointed me to preach good tidings unto the meek. He hath sent me to bind up the broken-hearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, and the opening of the prison to them that are bound.”
I told you that I will constantly write you and encourage you to stay on the Lord’s side, because knowing him as your personal savior is all that we would ever need in our lives. So brother, I am praying that when you start to follow Jesus, there’s no turning back.
Please! Jeff, constantly read your Bible when Satan tries to come in your immediate thoughts. When he tries to take your joy, don’t give him the opportunity. You are a born-again Christian and the day you decided to follow God was the best decision you could ever make. Leaning on God’s understanding will strengthen your belief. Jeff, both of us know that our Heavenly Father can do more than we can ever imagine. So I am ending this letter by saying, prayer can change things.
Your brother forever, Calvin.
I signed my letters Calvin because I was using the name Calvin Earl Martin when I was arrested, and it was the name I kept using in prison.
Later that night the third-shift officer picked up the letter and some Christian literature for Jeff. I also filled out a request form asking to speak with the chaplain about my case. I wanted to ask him for his special prayers and encouragement.
I felt good about the conversation I had with Jeff. I was glad I wrote the letter and eager to hear his response. I drifted off to sleep, another day in solitary confinement over.
Fourteen
More Questions, More Answers
When he comes back he will take these dying bodies of ours and change them into glorious bodies like his own, using the same mighty power that he will use to conquer all else everywhere. (Philippians 3:21, TLB)
Thursday, March 5, 1992.
Same old story–breakfast, medication, shaving equipment, mail call. Jeff hit the wall, indicating he received my letter and literature.
Even though the amount of mail Jeff was receiving had finally started to taper off, he still got bags of it daily. He told me some of the letters coming now were death threats.
I told Jeff that even Charles Manson, imprisoned since 1969, still received letters from strangers, alleged followers, and, of course, people who hated him. I figured Jeff would get letters for the rest of his life.
After lunch, he told me one of the letters he got that day said the author admitted wanting to be just like him. Jeff chuckled, but I didn’t say anything. The thought was bone chilling.
That evening, Pastor Dawson came to talk to me about the request form I sent to him. I explained my situation with the razor blade found in my old cell and I reiterated that it wasn’t mine.
Pastor Dawson told me to tell the truth. “God knows what’s in your heart. He knows if you’re guilty or not. You’ll be OK if you always tell the truth.” Then he prayed with me, right there outside my cell.
As the chaplain was leaving, he stopped at Jeff’s cell and chatted with him for a few minutes.
Later that night, while everyone was resting and watching TV and it was quiet, Jeff and I began our usual discussion. Trying to satisfy my endless curiosity about his crimes, I asked him how he met his victims. I also asked him how he got those men to so willingly return to his apartment on their own.
“I met them at the common places any person would go to meet people: bars, parks, malls, Laundromats, bus stops,” he said. “I’d promise them the sexual experience of a lifetime or sometimes I’d tell them I had drugs or money that I would give them. I told them I had large quantities of whatever they desired at my apartment and that they could have all they wanted if they came with me.”
Like any good con man, he told them what they wanted to hear. I imagine it was hard for most of Jeff’s victims to resist. Many of his victims had criminal records; few had jobs. They were all looking for something and often Dahmer appeared to have just what they thought they needed: drugs, sex, money, or a combination of the three. Sometimes I wondered if that was all Jeff did, even now: tell people what he thought they wanted to hear.
One of the things I had always been curious about was the victim he had tried to turn into a zombie. What could he have possibly been thinking when he drilled a hole into young Konerak Sinthasomphone’s head, and dripped acid into his brain? Did he honestly think that was a viable option and was that really his intent? There was only one way to find out. “Were you really trying to create a zombie who would serve your every need, like a slave?” I asked.
The words seemed strange coming from my mouth. The question bothered me because I already knew the answer would be equally as disturbing as my question felt.
“Anything’s possible, isn’t it?” Dahmer answered. “We’re taught that while we’re growing up. We’re taught that we can be whatever we want to be, so why couldn’t I control people? It didn’t hurt to try. The act of doing it was completely erotic, actually.” It was half of an answer.
I told Jeff to look in his Bible in Ephesians and read what the Apostle Paul had to say about our battle with Satan.
For we are not fighting against people made of flesh and blood, but against persons without bodies–the evil rulers of the unseen world, those mighty satanic beings and great evil princes of darkness who rule this world; and against huge numbers of wicked spirits in the spirit world. So use every piece of God’s armor to resist the enemy whenever he attacks, and when it is all over, you will still be standing up. (Ephesians 6:12-13, TLB)
Jeff said something like, “Yeah, I guess I need God’s armor, all right. I need something.”
I knew Jeff wanted to hear more, so I said a prayer that God would show me which verses in the Bible I should share with him that night. Psalms came to mind.
For the Lord is a great God, the great King of all gods. (Psalms 95:3, TLB)
I wanted Jeff to understand that there was no place for Satan in his life. He had to accept God as king.
Jeff was silent, so I started making some notes. I wrote down words: Satan, sin, faith, love, commandments, witnesses, discipleship, prophecy, salvation. I figured if I could take Jeff step by step from Satan to salvation, then I’d be getting somewhere. I knew I could not personally save Jeff. All I could do was give him the tools, show him the way, and encourage him. He still had to take it upon himself to learn, try, and believe.
So we began.
“Jeff, look up I Peter 5:8. It says, ‘Be careful–watch out for attacks from Satan, your great enemy. He prowls around like a hungry, roaring lion, looking for some victim to tear apart.’
“Don’t you see, Jeff, that’s what you were doing? Looking for victims. You were doing Satan’s work for him.”
Jeff mumbled. “Yeah, I guess. You really think Satan can take control of a person’s mind?”
“Of course! He had you, man! Look up James 1:15. This one’s about sin. It says, ‘These evil thoughts lead to evil actions and afterward to the death penalty from God.’ You hear that, Jeff? You didn’t get the death penalty ‘cause Wisconsin doesn’t have a death penalty, but in God’s eyes you did. And that’s why you have to ask his forgiveness sincerely, to wipe out that sin, just like the death of his son wiped out our sins for us. You get it, man?”
“So God forgives even murder, huh?” Was I making progress or was he being snide?
“Yup. Even murder; even many murders. OK. Next, let’s talk about faith. It’s important. Look in Hebrews 11:1. ‘What is faith? It is the confident assurance that something we want is going to happen. It is the certainty that what we hope for is waiting for us, even thoug
h we cannot see it up ahead.’ All you need is faith, man. Faith. It’s a special gift, but you gotta have it.”
“How do you get it?” Jeff asked.
“You just believe. Believe with all your heart and soul and mind. You just know that God is there for you, because he is. He really is. Then, the next thing comes love. It all just falls into place. Love. I John 4:7. Read it, Jeff. ‘Dear friends, let us practice loving each other, for love comes from God and those who are loving and kind show that they are the children of God, and that they are getting to know him better.’ That’s what you’re doing, Jeff, you’re getting to know God better and better. And once you get to know the love God has for you, it’s very easy to love other people. Don’t you see? It spreads like a virus. Love. It’s all that matters.”
I was happier by the minute as the pieces seemingly fell into place. We were on a roll and Bible verses were coming to me right and left.
Next, we talked about the commandments.
“Jeff, read the whole chapter of Exodus 20. That’s where you’ll find God’s commandments.”
I was quiet while Jeff read. I was sure he’d probably studied the Ten Commandments at some point during his childhood, but I doubted that he’d reviewed them lately.
“Now you know about God’s laws. OK, now let’s go up to Proverbs 14:25. That’s where it says we have to be witnesses to the Lord. It’s not enough to just know and obey the commandments. We also have to tell others about God.”
A witness who tells the truth saves good men from being sentenced to death, but a false witness is a traitor. (Proverbs 14:25, TLB)
After that, we talked about discipleship and how God would honor those who honor him by sharing the good news of God with others. I often prayed that Jeff would have it in his heart to eventually open up to some of the other prisoners and become a disciple on his own.
If these Greeks want to be my disciples, tell them to come and follow me, for my servants must be where I am. And if they follow me, the Father will honor them. (John 12:26, TLB)
The last two things I wanted to talk to Jeff about that night were prophecy and salvation. The first, prophecy, was the answer to why all these Bible verses happened to come to me that night. They were the perfect verses for what I was trying to share with Jeff.
I knew it wasn’t me; it was the Holy Spirit acting through me, using me as a conduit to spread the Word. It says so right there in 2 Peter 1:21. “For no prophecy recorded in Scripture was ever thought up by the prophet himself. It was the Holy Spirit within these godly men who gave them true messages from God.”
I read that to Jeff so he would know that even here in our cells at Columbia, the Holy Spirit resided with us.
Our night of sharing ended with a powerful verse from Acts about salvation. Once again, I asked Jeff to read his Bible along with me while I read the verse aloud.
There is salvation in no one else! Under all heaven there is no other name for men to call upon to save them. (Acts 4:12, TLB)
He was quiet, so I spoke up. “Look Jeff, the most important thing here, and the whole point of all this, is for you to accept God into your heart, to see and to understand the sins you committed. You have to be sorry for what you did wrong. You can’t ask for forgiveness if you’re not truly sorry.
“God can see into your heart. He knows if you’re faking and are only going through the motions in an attempt to achieve salvation. It’s like when Jesus condemns the hypocrites in Matthew 6:5-6.”
I paused for a moment hoping Jeff would look it up, but I didn’t hear him flip any pages. Suddenly, I felt tired and drained so I didn’t look it up either. I remembered this verse well because Levy used it to explain how important it was not to be a hypocrite.
I summed it up for Jeff.
“Jeff, the hypocrites Jesus talks about are the people who act pious and holy on the outside, but aren’t truly like that on the inside. They have a false relationship with God.” I waited.
“Yeah,” Jeff whispered, barely audible.
I felt like maybe Jeff was overwhelmed or sad. He didn’t say anything more. It was late. My brain was tired of thinking and my hand was tired of writing. Each night as we talked, I would write everything Jeff said in my journal. Of course, he didn’t know I was doing that. Though it was innocent and with the best intentions, if he had known I was documenting our conversations he probably would have stopped talking to me.
At times when I couldn’t write fast enough, I’d ask him to repeat himself, saying other inmates were too loud and I hadn’t heard what he said. In reality, I just wanted to write it all down so I wouldn’t forget. By writing it down, I could reread it and plan which Bible verses I would share with him the next night.
We had developed a pattern. I’d get him talking by asking something about his crimes, try to relate what he did to Satan’s control over him, and then take him step by step through God’s plan toward salvation. I just hoped it was all making sense to him. I wanted so much for this tortured man to understand that he could break away from evil.
I wanted him to know that he could find happiness again, if he would only open his heart to the goodness of the Almighty. I believed that with all my heart. I just wasn’t sure Jeff did.
Before I closed my eyes I said, “Jeff, the spirit of God reveals things to you. Keep an open mind. The spirit will come, just you wait.”
Fifteen
Inferiority Complexes
Soon a Samaritan woman came to draw water, and Jesus asked her for a drink. He was alone at the time as his disciples had gone into the village to buy some food. The woman was surprised that a Jew would ask a “despised Samaritan” for anything–usually they wouldn’t even speak to them!–and she remarked about this to Jesus. He replied, “If you only knew what a wonderful gift God has for you, and who I am, you would ask me for some living water!” (John 4:7-10, TLB)
March 6, 1992.
After breakfast, shaving, and standing count, the inmates on Desegregation Unit 2 had recreation. Once again, I didn’t feel like going outside just to stand around or pace in a fenced cage. Jeffrey didn’t either.
At the 11 a.m. mail call, Jeff got his usual bags of mail to sort through and choose the twenty-five letters he wanted to read. That day I also got a letter–from Jeff. He must have sent it the previous day. Jeff told me he also tried to send me some books, but security wouldn’t approve.
Jeff’s letter said it was hard for him to know who to trust and that he was glad to be writing to someone who didn’t hate him for his crimes.
“I’m glad to hear that you’re a Christian,” his letter went on to say. “I’ve just started to read the Bible, so I have a lot to learn about the Lord Jesus Christ and how to live the Christian life. It’s great to know that the Lord Jesus loves us enough to save us from our sins! Like you said, when it’s all said and done, knowing Jesus as your Lord and Savior is all that really matters.”
He ended by saying, “Yours thru Jesus Christ our Lord. J.D.,” adding, “You’re right, we all come short of the glory!”
After I read the letter, I slapped the wall so Jeff would know I was talking to him.
“Jeff, I got your letter. Hey man, it makes me happy to hear you’re trying to find some spirituality in your life. You can find happiness with the Lord, even here in prison.”
After lunch, my advocate, who was a social worker for inmates housed on Units 8 and 9, came to talk to me about the conduct report concerning the razor blade incident and about my confinement. He told me my hearing would be the following week, on Wednesday, March 11. I’d be appearing in front of the whole committee.
That afternoon I thought a lot about what might happen at that meeting. If found guilty, I’d be transferred to Desegregation Unit 1 for a rehabilitative and adjustment program for whatever amount of time the committee suggested, probably somewhere around six months.
After the advocate left, Jeff asked, “Calvin, why are you over here in DS-2, anyway? What’d you do?”
&
nbsp; “Security found a razor blade in my cell on Housing Unit 2,” I told him. “It wasn’t mine, though. I didn’t put it in the window. Besides, I don’t have any enemies here at CCI and that’s my main defense. I don’t need a shank weapon here, so why would I have one stashed? It had to have been the guy in the cell before me that put it there. I just gotta prove it to the committee next week so I can get out of here.”
After supper, I filled out a form requesting that one of my teachers at the prison school be my character witness at the hearing.
After the 9 p.m. standing count, armed with my pad of paper and pencils, I started asking Jeff more questions. I had to hit the wall between our cells quite hard to get his attention. He must have been sleeping, but I finally heard him mutter.
I was blunt. “Jeff, can I ask you something? Are you a racist?”
He answered right away. “Yeah, I guess I am. I’ve proven my superiority over non-whites with the crimes I’ve committed. What I did proves that whites are the highest form of life on this planet.”
I paused. I felt so sorry for him, to have these thoughts and feelings inside him. I thought about Jeff’s first victim, Steven Hicks, who was white and died in 1978 in Ohio when Jeff was only seventeen years old.
“Why did you end up killing that kid, Steven Hicks?” I asked. “Why did you want to do it?” That boy hadn’t been a minority, so it couldn’t have been racially motivated.
“I don’t know, I guess it was an experiment of some kind. I wanted to see what it felt like to kill someone.”
It was such an awful thing to say. He killed a person just because he wanted to try it. He stole someone else’s life, ruined a family, all because he was selfish and sick. But for some reason I began to think maybe Jeff wasn’t telling me everything; maybe it was deeper than that.
“If you hadn’t gotten caught, would you still be doing the same thing?” I asked him. “Would you still be killing?”
Serial Killer's Soul Page 11