Talk about an unsolved mystery. Eight people (who knows, there could be more) were brutally murdered in Wichita, Kan., between 1974 and 1986 by a serial killer known as BTK. In some cases, witnesses survived. A postal worker came face to face with him as he delivered a letter that turned out to claim responsibility for horrific crimes. They have a recording of his voice when he called 911 dispatch to alert them of the location of a victim. And at least one eyewitness claims to have seen the suspect in the phone booth making the call.
All this, and yet police still have no one in custody. Most people forgot all about BTK long ago. A whole generation or two had never even heard of him; those who did remember figured he was in prison on unrelated crimes or long dead. Then in the spring of 2004, he started sending taunting communiques again. Or, rather, someone who everyone including the FBI assumes is him.
BTK stands for Bind, Torture, Kill—referring to the way he attacked his victims. For many in the Wichita area, those three letters represent intense fear and terror. Women wouldn't enter their homes alone. They would check to make sure their phone lines had not been cut while they were away or sleeping. They bought mace and security systems. I'm sure some placed weapons within convenient reach of their bedside.
I was 3 years old in 1974, far too young to remember the family of four, the Oteros, who were BTK's first known victims. But by 1978, when BTK had harassed law enforcement, the media, and the general public over and over again, I was old enough to see the news and know something bad had been happening. For years, I got BTK details mixed up with those of The Poet, another freaky Wichita serial crime that involved a woman being stalked, harassed with letters and poetry, and violently attacked. Turns out she had been doing all the attacking and writing herself, the result of mental trauma from childhood sexual abuse.
I'm not even in Kansas anymore (don't say it...don't say the dog's name...I beg you). I've been keeping up with the latest information online, through Wichita media web sites and online bulletin boards like Crime & Justice that have amateur investigators and CSI junkies in overdrive. And I'm realizing I should have been scared to death in college. I attended Wichita State University and, for a time, lived in an apartment building right smack-dab in the middle of BTK's kill zone. I worried about gang violence and drive-by shootings. Instead, I should have been scouting for a middle-aged man with a gap between his front teeth and a penchant for pleasuring himself at his crime scenes (if I were to believe eyewitness claims and rampant rumors).
My niece, who is a senior at WSU, in no uncertain terms, FREAKED OUT after the latest round of BTK talk—in the year marking the 30th anniversary of the Otero killings. I don't blame her. No one wants to learn and live in a town where a serial killer has been allowed to roam free for three decades. The police claim to be investigating, and news reports have speculated that cops have been holding a "swab-a-thon," Q-tipping the insides of the mouths of every male over 40 in southern Kansas to compare DNA samples. They must still have no clue as to BTK's identity. He could be hiding in Tora Bora with OBL, for all we know.
Will it end? Will he kill again? Will we ever know the truth? Will the WPD redeem itself?
Too many questions. Too much pain. Too many years.
Josephine, Joseph, Joe, Julie, Kathryn, Shirley, Nancy, Vicki...too many victims. Their families and friends, and a community held hostage by a madman, need resolution. Now.
All this, and yet police still have no one in custody. Most people forgot all about BTK long ago. A whole generation or two had never even heard of him; those who did remember figured he was in prison on unrelated crimes or long dead. Then in the spring of 2004, he started sending taunting communiques again. Or, rather, someone who everyone including the FBI assumes is him.
BTK stands for Bind, Torture, Kill—referring to the way he attacked his victims. For many in the Wichita area, those three letters represent intense fear and terror. Women wouldn't enter their homes alone. They would check to make sure their phone lines had not been cut while they were away or sleeping. They bought mace and security systems. I'm sure some placed weapons within convenient reach of their bedside.
I was 3 years old in 1974, far too young to remember the family of four, the Oteros, who were BTK's first known victims. But by 1978, when BTK had harassed law enforcement, the media, and the general public over and over again, I was old enough to see the news and know something bad had been happening. For years, I got BTK details mixed up with those of The Poet, another freaky Wichita serial crime that involved a woman being stalked, harassed with letters and poetry, and violently attacked. Turns out she had been doing all the attacking and writing herself, the result of mental trauma from childhood sexual abuse.
I'm not even in Kansas anymore (don't say it...don't say the dog's name...I beg you). I've been keeping up with the latest information online, through Wichita media web sites and online bulletin boards like Crime & Justice that have amateur investigators and CSI junkies in overdrive. And I'm realizing I should have been scared to death in college. I attended Wichita State University and, for a time, lived in an apartment building right smack-dab in the middle of BTK's kill zone. I worried about gang violence and drive-by shootings. Instead, I should have been scouting for a middle-aged man with a gap between his front teeth and a penchant for pleasuring himself at his crime scenes (if I were to believe eyewitness claims and rampant rumors).
My niece, who is a senior at WSU, in no uncertain terms, FREAKED OUT after the latest round of BTK talk—in the year marking the 30th anniversary of the Otero killings. I don't blame her. No one wants to learn and live in a town where a serial killer has been allowed to roam free for three decades. The police claim to be investigating, and news reports have speculated that cops have been holding a "swab-a-thon," Q-tipping the insides of the mouths of every male over 40 in southern Kansas to compare DNA samples. They must still have no clue as to BTK's identity. He could be hiding in Tora Bora with OBL, for all we know.
Will it end? Will he kill again? Will we ever know the truth? Will the WPD redeem itself?
Too many questions. Too much pain. Too many years.
Josephine, Joseph, Joe, Julie, Kathryn, Shirley, Nancy, Vicki...too many victims. Their families and friends, and a community held hostage by a madman, need resolution. Now.
Comments
Yeah I freaked out. Did I tell you that there were closer connections? This girl I work with, Jaclyn, her mom lived in an apartment by WSU around that time. As soon as her light would go off, her phone would ring and it'd be BTK (or so she assumed) asking her about the people he'd already killed, if she knew them, if their address meant anything to her, totally calm. And one night, her door handle moved as if someone were trying to get in.
THEN, another girl I work with, Taneice, her mom's best friend was one of the victims.
Needless to say, I went out and promptly bought myself a keyring-can of mace.
*shudder*