Kenny the Making of a Serial Killer 1

by Patrick Laughy

  Kenny had no wish at all to see any more shrinks. Not surprisingly, he voted for the second choice.

  From that day forth, Kenny was home-schooled.

  Bob had some definite ideas about how the three of them would work on helping Kenny.

  Kenny, in his bedroom, overheard them talking one evening that week after dinner. Bob was speaking confidently and with authority; Granny was mostly listening.

  “The boy needs to be a boy and learn what it means to be a man.

  “You mother him too much. Not that I blame you mind; the kid has been through a lot. However, he’s getting older and that should stop now. The boy is too soft.

  “I’ve had a lot of experience working with troubled youth. He should spend more time with me. We should move him out of his current bedroom and place him in the wing where I’m staying. That way he won’t always be running to you when he has those nightmares of his. I can console him when he needs it.

  “He needs some discipline and a male role model, a man to look up to and help harden him up a little.

  “You can school him in the morning and then I’ll take him out and spend time with him for the remainder of the day, just as Gordon did. He can show me how to work the machines and the male bonding that will naturally take place while we are working together will do him world of good.”

  With everything that had been going on over the past few months, Granny was grasping at straws.

  She welcomed Bob’s suggestions as if they were a gift from God.

  Dave returned to Major Crime after completing his six months in the emergency response car experiment, which had gone extremely well for all concerned and was now a permanent fixture in the Patrol Division.

  He had moved into Linda’s west end apartment after they got married. It was small and they both wanted to purchase a house somewhere in the suburbs. They were actively checking the real-estate listings.

  After a four-month stint in robbery, Dave, who had impressed the upper brass both while in the trial patrol unit and as a robbery investigator, had then been selected by the chief to move over to the elite homicide section, as a replacement for a retiring detective.

  Homicide had only six detective teams, and each of them were very good at their jobs. Detectives didn’t make the grade unless their early detective work in other areas had been outstanding. Clearance rates by way of convictions were high. Anyone who was lucky enough to be selected to one of the six positions, rarely left the post by choice. Once into the prime job, the majority lost any interest in promotion and tended to stay put and ride it out until they retired.

  The most senior members of this elite squad had worked together as partners for most of their careers and were looked upon with a fair amount of awe by the other members of the force.

  As chance would have it, Dave was paired with the most senior man on the squad. Although he only got to spend a short time with his new Homicide partner, who was near retiring at the time, during their time working together, Dave learned a lot and the two of them successfully cleared a couple of tough murders. Dave loved the work and was more than ready to accept a new partner and continue in Homicide, but the Chief had other plans for him.

  Dave was a little uneasy when the call came in for him to head upstairs. He had no idea why he was being summoned to the top of the building. And he had a good case of butterflies when he left the elevator and entered the boss’s secretary’s office. Luckily, he wasn’t given a lot of time to worry about why he was there, as on his arrival, he was whisked directly into the Chief’s office where he found him and the two deputies huddled together around the circular boardroom table at the far end of the spacious room.

  The three of them stopped talking as the secretary closed the door behind Dave, turned to look toward him and the Chief rose and beckoned him over.

  “Grab a seat. We have an offer for you to consider.”

  The gist of the conversation that followed was that Internal Affairs appeared to be having some difficulty in dealing with some serious complaints which had been going nowhere and, would Dave be willing to accept an assignment there?

  Dave heard them and took a few seconds to consider his response. He didn’t want to seem ungrateful, but Dave who was often honest to a fault, went with his gut feeling.

  “I’m not sure I would be comfortable with that. Investigating other members of the department is not exactly what I pictured myself doing as a cop. I really like Homicide…”

  The Operations Deputy replied, “Fair enough, but we’d like you to think about it. It takes a very special kind of man for a job like this. You seem to be pretty well qualified for it.”

  The Administration Deputy stepped in.

  “It takes a guy who is not only well-liked by all ranks, but trusted as a fair player. No one wants to work Internal; that’s probably why the unit is currently doing such a lousy job.”

  They were team playing him. The ball bounced back to the Operations Deputy.

  “We’ve taken a hard look at your service record and we are all of the opinion that the other members of the department certainly think of you as both honest and fair, although we admit that in consideration of your relatively rapid rise through the ranks, there is bound to be some who feel a certain amount of jealousy and as a result may well be detractors. That said, we think you’re smart enough to handle that type of problem, should it arise.

  “And a successful stint in Internal would certainly look good to any promotional board you might find yourself facing later in your career.”

  The chief dropped the clincher.

  “While on your assignment in the emergency response car, you clearly demonstrated an ability to ingratiate yourself and the department when dealing with both the media and the public. I think you would do very well acting as the spokesman for a revamped internal unit. It wouldn’t be for more than a year or so, just long enough to get things reorganized in there. Of course, should you agree to take it on, it would mean a promotion to Sergeant, as we would want you in a supervisory and leadership position.”

  He paused for effect before continuing.

  “Unless memory fails me that would make you the youngest man ever to reach the rank of Sergeant in this department.

  When Dave didn’t respond, he expanded.

  “While very important to the Department, Internal is a small squad. You’d pretty well be able to call the shots and while there, you’d only have the Inspector to answer to...”

  He chuckled before continuing.

  “…and the three of us, of course.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  - March 1990 -

  The custody issue regarding Kenny reached the court in early December of 1989, a couple of weeks before Christmas.

  Kenny had not been briefed on the situation in any great depth but he did know that a decision as to who he would be living with in the future would depend upon the outcome of that court appearance.

  Bob had arranged for a lawyer to represent Granny, and Kenny knew that the lawyer felt they didn’t have as good a case as his other Grandmother Edith did. This knowledge depressed Kenny.

  While he was not particularly happy about the current situation with Granny Gertrude seeming under Bob’s thumb, it was at least something he understood and could deal with.

  The idea of being uprooted and going to live with Granny Edith had no appeal for him whatsoever.

  As luck would have it, Bob had an idea of how Granny Gertrude’s position could be improved.

  It was simple really. He and Granny would marry and then, as a stable couple, they would be in a far better position to argue the provision of a better home life than their opposition, and thereby stand a much better chance of winning the custody battle for Kenny.

  Granny’s lawyer had agreed with that suggestion.

  Later, the deed accomplished, Bob had officially become his new grandfather.

  As predicted, he and Granny won the custody of Kenny.

  Christmas was a big
celebration for the three of them. Bob was very pleased with the way things had worked out and as a result Kenny found everything he’d asked for under the tree that year.

  After New Years had passed, life settled down and returned to normal in the rambling house.

  If not particularly a happy nor well-adjusted boy, Kenny was at least more or less at peace.

  The winter weather meant that he and Bob could not do much outside and that left him free to retire to his room and his Atari. Bob had convinced Granny to give in to his pre-Christmas request for more adult-oriented games and several new ones had appeared under the tree as presents for him.

  A couple of these new ones provided him with the opportunity to indulge in a good deal more violence and this made him feel far more in control when he played them, feeling a great deal of satisfaction and pleasure.

  He was now able to battle with, maim, and destroy numerous characters who challenged him on the screen. Life was relatively acceptable to Kenny.

  Then that all changed.

  At first Kenny didn’t really pick up on anything out of the norm.

  He and Bob had headed out to do the chores together after a morning home-schooling session with Granny. Initially, things went well.

  They had some chickens to cull and Bob took him down to the pen and told him what chickens to bring out while he got the block and the axe. Kenny was then informed that part of Bob’s program about teaching him to be a man was to have Kenny do the head chopping from now on.

  Previously, Kenny had been grossed out by the sight of ‘chickens-with-their-heads-cut-off’ frantically spraying blood around, but that was not the case on this occasion.

  Instead, the idea held a great deal of appeal for Kenny. He found himself eagerly looking forward to watching the chickens running around after their heads had been removed. Additionally, he thought that the idea of doing the cutting himself might be very stimulating.

  Bob even let him toss the chicken heads and legs into the pigs after they were through and he wholeheartedly enjoyed watching the wildly grunting animals fight over the bloody scraps.

  Kenny was also subconsciously aware that Bob was enjoying the activities too, or at least, enjoying watching Kenny’s reaction to it.

  When they had finished with the animals, it was time to head out to the front of the property to the yard where the equipment was kept.

  Bob let Kenny drive the little Ford and the old dump truck, then asked him if he would show him how the excavator worked.

  Kenny showed him how to start it and work the controls but once into the operator’s seat, Bob was unsure. He asked Kenny to sit in his lap and run thorough everything with him again.

  Kenny was enjoying the feeling of kind of being the boss and he readily agreed.

  He clambered up into the man’s lap, then began to run through the whole procedure again.

  The guy seemed unusually dense. Kind of like he was in a fog and his mind was on something else.

  Bob was kind of hugging him like, holding him steady and jostling Kenny around playfully as he explained stuff again. Then a few minutes later he noticed that Bob’s breathing had became laboured. A few seconds later, Bob grunted and let out a deep sigh.

  Nothing was said but after Bob’s breathing had returned to normal, he lifted Kenny up and moved him over to the small seat Gordon had made for him earlier.

  He then began to work the machine and Kenny offered advice as they worked and thought no more about the somewhat strange behavior that had taken place while he was in Bob’s lap.

  That experience wasn’t going to be a one-off though. The next day Bob had again asked Kenny to sit in his lap and go over the machine’s controls. It was a repeat performance of the day before.

  Two nights later Kenny had one of the reoccurring nightmares about the car crash and woke up chilled and in a sweat. His room was dark but as he tried to settle himself down he realized that the door was slightly ajar. After a few seconds, his eyes adjusted to the dimness and he became aware of the fact that someone was standing at the foot of his bed.

  He let out a little cry of surprise and Bob spoke. His voice was soft and reassuring.

  “Having one of those bad dreams of yours, hey son? You were moaning and I could hear you. Nothing to worry about now. I’m here. It will be all right.”

  Bob moved up to the side of the bed and sat down on the edge, then reached out and hugged him. The embrace was something that Kenny was used to when he woke up from a nightmare. Granny had done it many times. It was comforting to Kenny and he accepted it.

  Bob cradled him and gently rubbed his back as he spoke.

  “Nothing to worry about at all. I’ll stay with you until you feel better.”

  Eventually Kenny went back to sleep.

  When he woke in the morning he felt a little strange about what had happened. At breakfast Bob was telling Granny Gertrude how he had heard him having the nightmare and had come in to comfort him.

  Granny seemed pleased.

  Kenny figured all was well and dug into his food.

  The next night Bob was back in Kenny’s room. While Kenny slept, he gingerly pulled back the covers and stared at the ten-year-old for almost an hour while he leisurely masturbated.

  Kenny never even knew he was there.

  Two nights later Bob was back just before dawn. He had the covers pulled back and was very lightly fondling the boy. Kenny came half awake and then sleepily shifted his hips against the pressure on his privates.

  Bob kept stroking as he smiled down at him.

  “Nothing to worry about son…you got a woody is all…very normal for a young fellow like you. I can help you with that. It will feel good and it will be our little secret, just between you and me. It’s guy stuff; we won’t tell your grandmother. She wouldn’t understand.

  “Just close your eyes and relax.”

  From that night onward, good old Bob regularly visited Kenny’s room several times a week.

  Kenny found these visits strange and a little uncomfortable but felt powerless to do anything about them.

  Now that Kenny had been moved away from Granny, Bob also discovered that Kenny was regularly wetting his bed. He got very angry and told Kenny that it was a slovenly, dirty habit and that he had to stop. Whenever Kenny wet from that point on, Bob would make him change his own bed, and wash the soiled linen. Bob would then make him pull down his pants and proceed to use his belt on him.

  Bob was careful to only demand this punishment when Granny was occupied elsewhere, and he told the boy that if he ever complained to the old woman, he would receive a much more severe punishment for his dirty ways.

  From then on, Kenny tried very hard not to wet the bed. He was afraid to go to sleep at night and fought to stay awake so he could go to the bathroom often. He began to suffer from insomnia, lost weight and soon had dark rings below his eyes due to lack of sleep.

  As time went on, good old Bob showed Kenny lots of other things that two guys could enjoy together. Kenny was deeply confused about the whole thing. On one hand, he hated it and wanted it to stop, on the other it did feel good at the end.

  It wasn’t his decision to make of course. He felt powerless to do anything about it.

  Dave had taken the position in Internal.

  Sergeant Dave Richards and his wife were now the proud owners of a two-year-old three-bedroom bungalow located on a half acre lot in Richmond, a Vancouver bedroom community suburb.

  After a couple of weeks, he’d proven to his satisfaction that his initial concerns about accepting the job could reasonably be handled with a little determination and an open mind.

  The Inspector in charge of the unit had had a meeting with the Chief before Dave arrived and had obviously been ordered to give him a free hand. That went a long way toward making things easier than Dave had anticipated

  It didn’t take him long to decide that the squad was in a rut, without doubt.

  It consisted of the Inspector, him, a receptionis
t and four detectives. He found out quickly that two of the detectives were near retirement and while they tended to appear very busy, they accomplished little, if anything. They resented finding themselves suddenly under the supervision of a new and very young Sergeant brimming with new ideas and making changes, but this close to retirement, they had no desire to rock the boat.

  Dave decided to put them on notice, letting them know that he felt they were just going through the motions and that he would be expecting them to either pull up their socks and get involved in the task at hand, or he’d transfer them out. For the two of them, the current assignment was, or at least it had been, a cushy spot. A good place to idle away their last months. Neither of them wanted to be bounced.

  Dave sat them down in his office together, and read them the riot act, then softened it with the comment that both had been damn good detectives earlier in their careers and that he was quite prepared to let them stay, but only if they shifted out of low gear and started to produce some results.

  They heard him out, looked at each other briefly, smiled and acknowledged that they had been floating and both committed to adopting a new attitude.

  Dave agreed to give them two weeks to demonstrate they were serious.

  The other two detectives on the squad were younger, one in his late thirties and the second in his early fifties. He called them into his office separately, the oldest of the two first.

  Dave had studied their personnel files carefully and he’d determined the shortcomings of each, well before sitting them down. The older one had come to Internal directly from Patrol, after his promotion to Detective. He had been a good street cop out on the road and was certainly seen as a fair guy by most of the force. Those two things had probably been the driving force behind his selection in the first place.

  That said, it hadn’t taken Dave long to figure out why he wasn’t effective in his current assignment. The problem was that he was also very much one of the boys and had no desire to ever be thought of as anything but that, by his fellow cops. Subsequently he had a strong, predetermined bias against finding any cop at fault. It was clear to Dave that there was no way he should be working the Internal detail.