Case 337: Test A.rtf (Part 4/4)

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Our episodes deal with serious and often distressing incidents.

If you feel at any time you need support, please contact your local crisis center for suggested phone numbers for confidential support and for a more detailed list of content warnings, please see the show notes for this episode on your app or on our website.

Today's episode involves crimes against children and won't be suitable for all listeners.

One, lines, one, words, 18, characters, 68, title, Christ Lutheran Church, author, Christ Lutheran Church, company, Park City Community Public Library, last saved by Dennis.

For as long as Dennis Rader could remember, he had what he referred to as a little monster inside his brain.

He said it featured heavily throughout his childhood memories appearing in many frightening forms.

Rader visualized the monster in shadows, wallpapers, rugs, wood grains, clouds, trees and buildings.

Seeing it filled him with fear, but he also experienced another stranger sensation, a tightness in his crotch.

In Rader's words, those moments imprinted onto his adulthood like the programming of a computer chip.

Dennis Rader was born in March 1945, the first of four boys to high school sweetheart who married young.

Although his mother was at times distant and neglectful, partly due to untreated postpartum depression, Rader was surrounded by the love and support of his extended family, community and friends.

His strict but decent father worked hard to provide the family with a stable home in Wichita while fostering their strong connection to the Christian faith.

Rader routinely attended church and Sunday school and participated in Bible study and prayer.

Once during Mass, Dennis Rader experienced what he believed to be a moment of enlightenment.

He said he felt the Holy Spirit moving through him, compelling him toward a noble pursuit such as community service and personal development.

He became an altar boy and adjoined the boy scouts, maintaining an outward appearance of goodness throughout his youth by abstaining from cussing, alcohol, drugs and promiscuity.

His religious devotion was so deeply ingrained that hearing other boys take a God's name in vain brought him to tears.

Though he tried to nurture his so-called Holy Spirit, the little monster within Rader never went away.

One of his earliest memories of his presence was when his mother became stark after her wedding ring caught on a surface spring.

Seeing her in distress, excited Rader, producing the strange erotic sensation in the pit of his stomach and groin.

The same troubling feeling resurfaced when his mother started panicking at the top of a pharis wheel.

Rader's mother inadvertently played a pivotal role in his sexual development as he came to realise that he found the idea of people being trapped and helpless thrilling.

Through the boy scouts, he became skilled at tying a variety of knots with the clove hitch being his favourite.

He experimented with tying his wrists and ankles together with all manner of bindings, including string, tape, twine, ropes, cords, straps, leather belts and chains.

He restrained himself to beds, doors, clothes racks, beams and trees, tried out gags and denuces and even put a plastic bag over his head, all for the purpose of sexual gratification.

Rader claimed that his mother's infrequent use of corporal punishment aroused him further, forming his belief that violence and sex go hand in hand.

Her comfort and affection whenever Rader experienced pain or distress resulted in another one of his sexual obsessions, say domesticism.

He also discovered that he enjoyed wearing women's clothing when he started pleasuring himself while dressed in his mother's nightclothes and underwear.

Rader describes a complex relationship with his mother.

He insisted he loved her, yet blamed her for much of the trauma he carried throughout his life.

One day, when she mistakenly accused him of stealing, the humiliation and shame he felt marked the beginning of his impulse problem.

Rader became easily provoked when stressed or frustrated and couldn't control his temper.

His eruptions were so explosive they left him drenched in sweat.

Any criticism, especially when he considered it unjustified, stoked a deep-seated resentment and a craving for retribution.

This led Rader to focus more on action than on consequences and learn to keep secrets rather than face repercussions.

Lies became a defensive strategy he relied on to maintain control while feeding him a smug sense of superiority.

Over time, Dennis Rader's behaviour escalated to include spying on people, peeping through windows and breaking into houses.

In his opinion, the little monster went too far when it compelled him to start a fire that threatened nearby homes.

Though Rader managed to extinguish the flames before anyone was harmed, the sense of grave danger both terrified and excited him.

He reproduced the feeling by torturing animals, mostly cats, finding it exhilarating to exert complete control over a powerless creature.

For Rader, the power to command life and death was the ultimate pleasure.

When Rader heard the real-life story of a man who had strangled his girlfriend to death, he felt sexually aroused.

It led him to consume and collect crime thrillers, horror films and detective magazines as a form of pornography, and he grew to vitalize serial killers.

Anything that depicted women being stalked, frightened and harmed was his favourite content.

He drew sketches of girls and women he knew tightly bound and designed dungeons where he imagined torturing them.

One of his creations involved sealing a woman in a box that was partially filled with water.

Rader would increase the box's temperature, causing the woman to sweat and urinate profusely until she inevitably drowned in her own fluids.

He hid his depraved art, pornography collection, bondage equipment and mother's soiled clothing in secret places he called his Heidi Holes.

He had many Heidi Holes. Some were close by, like the attic of his home. Others were in remotes or abandoned locations throughout Wichita.

As time went on, Rader's fantasies grew increasingly deranged.

One of his favourites involved a victim being tied to a railroad truck as a train approached.

He reveled in their torment in the face of impending death.

The violent fantasies the little monster conjured were like a book Rader could open and read repeatedly in his mind.

They served as a form of disassociation, intensifying whenever he felt unsatisfied in real life and shielding him from negative feelings and experiences.

To Rader, the monster existed in another world and make believe realm he called his dark side.

He found it difficult to put this part of himself into words.

He referred to the intense feeling it evoked as fact directs and believed anyone capable of willfully harming others possessed some form of it.

But because Rader had convinced himself that he wasn't actually hurting other people, he avoided feelings of remorse, self-hate or shame.

While Rader knew that what he was doing was wrong, he insisted he was unable to rid himself of the little monster inside him.

He claimed that he was too embarrassed to ask for help and although there were warning signs, no one in his life suspected anything was seriously wrong.

Dennis Rader was awkward, shy and a slow learner, but other than that, he came across as a relatively normal young man.

Rader referred to his ability to switch between the different sides of himself as cubing.

He reasoned that a cub can have one side fully visible face on while all others remain completely hidden.

Cubing came easily to him.

It felt as natural as breathing, like changing hats on his head or shifting gears in a car.

It allowed him to attend school, date girls and work a part-time job without arousing any suspicion that something was wrong in his mind.

Rader liked to believe that each side of his cub existed independently, with none affecting the others.

He described it as though multiple different people were living inside his body.

In the early days, he didn't act out his sexual fantasies with anyone, nor did he tell anyone about the little monster.

As far as he was concerned, it was safely locked away in a secret compartment within him, and he felt completely in control.

Rader claimed the origin of the little monster was a mystery to him.

He wondered if it was because of his mother's smoking habit or the fact that she'd fallen off a horse while pregnant with him.

Or could it be because he had a low glucose and glycogen levels which caused nervousness and irritability?

Perhaps it was worsened by a head injury he sustained in a car accident when he was 17.

Maybe there was always something fundamentally wrong with his brain, possibly with the neurotransmitter dopamine associated with pleasure, motivation and focus.

Rader was adamant that he hadn't endured sexual trauma or abuse and those closest to him corroborated that account.

Whatever the cause, he often wondered whether the monster would one day lead him down a dark path.

After graduating high school, Rader worked briefly before serving a four-year tour of duty with the Air Force.

Photography became a hobby and he learned how to develop a film.

By 1970, he was back in Wichita studying electronics at community college.

He embarked on a whirlwind romance with a woman named Paula, marrying her the following year and moving to Park City where they became youth sponsors at the local Christ Lutheran Church.

During these times, when Rader displayed the good side of his cube, he was primarily seen as friendly, caring and hospitable.

At worst, he struck people as humorous.

He maintained normal sexual relations with his wife and felt no urge to act on his violent tendencies.

Rader said that when life was going well, the little monster inside him seemed to disappear entirely.

However, as he approached midlife, he began to sense a shift.

Although the monster felt gratified, it was never fully satisfied.

One day, Paula was hospitalized following a car accident.

During a visit, Rader stopped at a corner drugstore and was drawn to the magazine display where he began flipping through detective magazines.

Suddenly, the little monster re-emerged and Rader found himself once again consuming crime content for sexual pleasure.

He created new hidey holes in his attic, crawl spaces and shed, as well as at his parents' home and the local Christ Lutheran Church building.

He spired on young women undressing in their homes while fantasizing about kidnapping them.

He assembled what he called his hit kit, a collection of items that would help him carry out an abduction, including tools, bindings, knives and handguns.

He drove around in search of abandoned and remote locations where he imagined himself carrying out torture.

Despite these urges, Rader managed to avoid the temptation to act on them.

It wasn't until the economy faulted in late 1973 that he said the little monster took full control.

At age 28, crashed by the loss of his job, Rader finally, quote, went to the dark side.

Weeks later, in January 1974, Dennis Rader murdered Joe, Julie, Josie and Joey Otero.

He didn't expect Joe to be home and intended to, quote, quickly dispatch Joey before taking his time with the Julie and Josie.

Although Avancid didn't unfold exactly as Rader intended, he said he was proud of what he'd managed to accomplish.

Afterwards, he described feeling as though his brain was on fire, like his head was caught in a tightening vise.

He destroyed all of the items he used in the killings, except for the Bloodstained Air Force Parker he had worn and the wristwatch he'd taken from Joe Otero, fully expecting the police to show up and arrest him at any moment.

But Rader soon realized that he had somehow gotten away with it.

He journaled about the experience and began clipping newspaper articles about the crime, storing them alongside the Bloodstained Parker in one of his hidey holes.

Rader resized to Joe's watch to fit his wrist and wore it occasionally, justifying it to himself by thinking he needed a new one anyway, before finally throwing it into a creek.

With little improvement in Rader's daily life, the little monster craved the rush of killing again.

Rader said he's goodside tried to dissuade him, urging him to consider the Otero murders as, quote, just a bad day and move on with his life.

But in Rader's words, the other part of me overrode the good sense.

He told his wife that he was working late on personal projects or visiting the library, while instead driving around stalking potential victims.

On several occasions he prepared to carry out another attack only to have his plans thwarted at the last minute.

Three months after the Otero killings, Rader murdered Catherine Bright.

This time he felt neither pride nor sexual gratification during or after the crime.

It was his first, quote, close call, an unmitigated disaster that left him completely rattled.

Although he had felt prepared beforehand, the attack was riddled with critical mistakes, including the unexpected presence of Catherine's brother, Kevin.

While Rader intended to rape Catherine and had no plans to stab anyone, he said he lost control, calling it a, quote, total mass.

When Kevin escaped, Rader was certain this would be the moment that led to his arrest.

He fled home, washed up, hid Catherine's stolen driver's license in one of his hidey holes and waited for the police.

But days, weeks and months passed without any visits.

Kevin Bright had provided a fairly accurate description of Rader, but the side of the cube that people knew he's good side didn't match Catherine's killer, so no one suspected him.

Rader continued his ritual of documenting his crimes and collecting relevant newspaper articles, relieved to have evaded capture yet again.

As his good side, Rader said he prayed repeatedly, pleading for the Lord's help and asking, why me?

But the hesitation was fleeting and he ultimately lost no sleep over his actions.

He viewed his victims as mere objects, existing only to fulfill roles in his twisted fantasies.

Rader was plotting his next strike when his plans were unexpectedly disrupted by three men who falsely confessed to the Otero killings.

Although this presented Rader with the rare opportunity to wash his hands of the crime entirely by letting others take the fall,

he couldn't shake the thought. I wanted credit, not someone else.

Sitting at his typewriter, he drafted a detailed confession letter.

Although he was fully aware that its release could lead to his capture, his desire for recognition outweighed any instinct for self-preservation.

After much deliberation, he settled on a moniker, one that he felt conveyed power and instilled terror, blinded them, tortured them, killed them, BTK.

To Rader, the name wasn't entirely accurate. He felt the tea was somewhat misleading since he didn't believe he had truly tortured anyone.

In his view, Bondage didn't count as torture, and when he decided to kill, he said he aimed to make a quick, despite evidence proving otherwise.

According to Rader, the K in BTK was also largely irrelevant. He claimed that he killed his victims solely to eliminate them as witnesses to avoid punishment.

Only the B mattered to him. In his journals, Rader described binding his victims as a moment he, quote, could live in for years.

Rader was elated when the police responded to BTK through the papers, but he chose not to reply, suspecting it was a trap.

Meanwhile, he kept blending effortlessly into the community.

As Wichitans grappled with the horror of BTK's brutal murders and began protecting themselves and their families, Rader spotted an opportunity.

Ironically, he took a job installing security alarms, giving him access to people's homes and the chance to study potential targets up close.

He also enrolled in an administration of justice course at Wichitans State University, where he learned a great deal, including how to cover his tracks.

He was delighted when the forensic pathologist who had autopsied BTK's victims spoke as a guest lecturer.

In late 1974, Rader found out he was going to be a father.

He was overjoyed by the news and his dark side went into remission as a result.

Over the next three years, he was too busy parenting, working and studying to act out again.

Even so, he said the little monster never truly went away.

Although Rader didn't commit any murders during this time, he remained on the prowl, aware that he wasn't completely done with killing.

By 1977, Rader had become a father for a second time.

He said the little monster was growing restless, but nothing came to fruition until March.

That month, he visited the home of a woman he had met at university intending to kill her, only to find out that she wasn't home.

Going against everything he had learned from the botched murder of Catherine Bright, Rader impulsively decided to visit a nearby house where Shirley Viand lived with her three young children.

As expected, with no plan in place, things quickly went awry.

Rader said he had to rush to kill Shirley to secure his escape and reluctantly left her children alive as witnesses.

He braced for the moment he would be placed in handcuffs, but the police didn't even connect Shirley's murder to BTK.

Rader considered himself lucky to have gotten away with all his murders so far, given that none of them had gone according to his plan.

His luck almost ran out when his wife discovered a draft version of the Shirley Lox poem that he intended to send to the press as a confession to Shirley Viand's murder.

Thinking quickly, Rader claimed it was part of a university project on the BTK murders.

His wife seemingly accepted his explanation.

Despite having murdered six victims at this point, Rader said he was disappointed in himself.

He vowed that his next kill would be meticulous, leaving no room for error, interruptions, distractions or witnesses.

In December 1977, he targeted Nancy Fox.

In Rader's view, absolutely nothing went wrong.

He had finally carried out what he considered to be the perfect murder.

After that, Rader enjoyed Christmas with his family.

Then in early 1978, he recommends to BTK's cat and mouse game with the police by writing poems confessing to the Viand and Fox Motors.

His decision to include poems in his correspondence was a nod to childhood memories of his beloved grandmother reading poetry to him.

Rader stopped short of openly admitting to Catherine Bright's murder, needing to distance himself from Kevin Bright's witness account.

vague illusions to it were enough to provide the recognition he craved.

Communicating as BTK became an addictive power rush for Rader, like walking on a knife's edge.

He sought more than mere notoriety. He wanted to turn BTK into a timeless mythical legend, like a werewolf.

His fantasies became more grandiose and egocentric because he visualized his victims becoming his slaves in the afterlife.

Rader continued cubing in his day-to-day life, while the little monster simmered inside him like a dormant volcano.

When the feelings of Factor X took over, he went back to stalking women, breaking into homes and sketching loot and violent art.

He donned feminine clothing and handmade masks, asphyxiateing himself and rigging himself in bondage, sometimes in the clothes and lingerie he had stolen from his victims.

Occasionally, he documented these acts with his camera.

One day, Rader's wife Paula returned home unannounced to find him in front of a mirror, tied up in one of his contraptions,

while observing a woman who lived across the street.

This was only one of two times Paula saw the dark side of her husband.

The second time, she accidentally walked in on him in bondage and exploded into a fury.

Embarrassed and ashamed, Rader slept on the couch as Paula contemplated separation.

Her greatest concern was their children, but she also worried about the reaction of their local community.

Rader was seen as the epitome of a witch-it-and-citizen, a proud, church-going family man and helpful neighbor who was also, by that point, a dedicated boy scout leader.

If his private interests became public, the Rader family's carefully cultivated reputation would be irreparably damaged.

After seeking guidance from a professional and reading a self-help book on sexuality, Paula gradually became more understanding.

While she eventually accepted Rader's fetish, they never spoke of it.

Aside from her warning that if she ever called him again, she would file for divorce.

Rader learned to keep his fetishes out of the family home.

Sometimes he used hotel rooms to test out various auto-sphyxiation devices he built.

He would also drive to the rural outskirts of Wichita, dig holes resembling graves and lower himself into them wrapped head to toe in plastic.

The danger of accidentally killing himself while performing these inherently unsafe acts was all part of the thrill.

In April 1979, Rader failed to kill his next intended target and a Williams.

Yet he made the most of the incident by sending a chilling poem about it to both Anna and the press.

Every day life inevitably got in the way and he didn't strike again until April 1984 when he made what he considered a bold move.

This is the end of the story.

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So far, Dennis Raider had confined his murders to a particular area of Wichita.

It was a strategic choice to prevent police from tracing them back to him further north in Park City.

But, emboldened by the challenge of committing a murder closer to home, he targeted Marine Hedge,

who lived just a few doors away.

It was a risky endeavor, contradicting everything Raider knew about how a serial killer should operate.

Marine knew him personally, and if he slipped up, she could easily identify him.

Even if the attack went according to his plan, the investigation would encompass those closest to Marine, including her neighbors.

But Raider was confident in his abilities.

After all, he had gotten away with everything so far, despite making some significant mistakes.

Raider timed the murder to coincide with a camping trip he was taking with the Boy Scouts.

He arrived at the site, helped with setup, and by nightfall, complained of a headache, ostensibly retiring to his tent to rest.

Instead, he slipped away to Marine's house.

She wasn't home, so he broke in, hid in a closet and waited.

To Raider's frustration, Marine arrived with a friend.

Determined to avoid a repeat of the Catherine Bright murder, Raider remained hidden until the friend left at around 1am.

After Marine went to bed, Raider crept into her room and flicked on the light, jolting her awake.

The plants he had for her were the same he'd imagined for earlier victims that never came to fruition.

He intended to abduct Marine, take her somewhere secluded, string her up in bondage, and take photos of her before killing her.

Part of Raider's strategy was to keep his victims calm by lolling them into a false sense of security.

He pretended to be nothing more than a harmless burglar, assuring them that if they cooperated, they would be okay.

It was all designed to prevent a struggle and keep him in control.

But he couldn't stop Marine Hedge from screaming.

Raider knew he was losing control over the situation.

Once again, nothing had gone according to his plan.

Still, after murdering Marine, Raider was determined to get his pictures.

He stripped and bound Marine's body before wrapping her in a blanket and placing her in the back of her car.

He collected her driver's license, some of her underwear, and a few other souvenirs.

Then drove her to the dark, quiet, crust, Lutheran church building, where he, his family and their community worshiped.

After breaking in, he covered the windows with large sheets of black plastic he had prepared beforehand.

He then set about arranging Marine's body in different bindings, capturing each pose on camera.

According to Raider, using the sanctity of a church for such unholy acts made him feel the troubling guilt.

He claimed he respected God enough not to involve the altar in his photo shoot.

As dawn approached, Raider cleaned up the church and drove Marine's body to a remote area to dispose of it.

He continued on, tossing her handbag out the window along the way, before abandoning her car in a shopping center parking lot.

He then made his way back to the scout camp, presenting himself to the group as though he had been there the whole night.

The murder of Marine Herge was driven solely by Raider's desire to obtain photographs of a victim in bondage.

He saw no need for BTK to claim credit, knowing it was smarter not to.

In fact, he distanced the BTK from the crime by deviating from his pattern of targeting victims whose home addresses featured the number three.

A digit he considered mystical due to its recurring significance in his life and its prominent synchristian symbolism.

Raider remained on his good side in the years following Marine's murder.

Then, in September 1986, he posed as a telephone repairman to gain entry to the home of Vicki Wiggley, where he launched an attack.

Raider was dismayed to learn that Vicki's husband Bill was due home for lunch at any minute, meaning he would once again have to rush.

Vicki fought back, scratching Raider on the nose and face, but he eventually overpowered her.

He ruffled through her clothes and took photos of her body before fleeing in her car, coincidentally passing Bill Wiggley along the way.

Raider drove around for a while, then returned to the area, abandoning the car nearby.

Once again, BTK wasn't linked to the murder, and Raider didn't feel compelled to confess to it at the time.

Raider claimed that the wrongful suspicion of Bill Wiggley in Vicki's murder filled his good side with guilt.

He said he went around town asserting that Bill was innocent, hoping to sway public opinion.

Yet, he didn't feel bad enough to entirely stop the rumors by fassing up.

Raider was so detached from the devastation his crimes caused that he genuinely considered himself to be an ideal candidate for the police force.

He applied for a job, but his application was rejected, which he attributed to being aged in his 40s.

Instead, he accepted a position as a compliance officer in Park City, enforcing local laws, state and federal regulations and council policies.

The role allowed him to wear a uniform, uphold the law and serve the community, and he was eventually appointed to the County Animal Control Advisory Board.

But, even when on the clock, he was plotting away.

While out on the road, he scouted for victims or photo shoot locations.

Back in his office at City Hall, he drafted many of the communications he sent as BTK, and even created a Heidi Hall there.

Four months after Vicki Wiggley's murder, Raider killed again.

Like Marine Hedge, Dolores Davis was a high-risk target. She also lived in Park City, and while Raider didn't know her personally, he had noticed her outside her home.

He began watching her obsessively. On one occasion, while peering through her bedroom window, he startled her cats and narrowly avoided being caught.

It wasn't until January 1991, when Raider's personal life had quieted that he found the opportunity to act.

Once again, he timed the attack to coincide with a scout camping trip.

This time, he fabricated a reason to return to town, but instead went to Dolores's house.

Through a window, he saw her reading.

He planned to abduct her, take her to the church, photograph her, and kill her.

Raider had wanted to break in silently, but when no suitable entry presented itself, he made another bold move.

He threw a cinder block he found in the backyard through a sliding glass door.

Startled, Dolores rushed outside, where Raider confronted her.

He led her back inside, only to be thwarted yet again when Dolores revealed that she was expecting someone.

Leaving her handcuffed in the bedroom, Raider began rifling through the house, collecting items to keep.

With Dolores's guest potentially arriving at any moment, he returned to the bedroom and began his bondage ritual, using pennyhoes from her dresser drawer to tie her feet to her hands.

He then murdered her.

Pressed for time, Raider left Dolores's body in bushes a short distance away, planning to return later to complete the photo shoot.

As the night wore on, he grew concerned that she was too exposed, so he returned and moved her further into the countryside, placing her underneath the rural bridge.

He visited again soon after, covering her face with one of his handmade feminine masks and taking several photographs.

He was unable to return a third time, as her body had already been discovered.

For the same reasons he stayed silent about marine hedges murder, Raider never confessed to Dolores Davis' killing in any BTK correspondence.

He did, however, journal about it, noting that it must be kept secret forever.

He savored the photos he had taken of both women, yet he said the little monster inside him remained unfulfilled.

By the early 2000s, Dennis Raider was in his 50s and had accepted that his days as BTK were behind him.

The little monster was still there, but he had decided that murder was best left to the younger, stronger version of himself.

He focused his attention on his family, work, and church, where fellow parishioners had elected him president of the congregation.

Furthermore, advances in DNA testing and forensic technology were leading to arrests in cold cases across the country, and police already had Raider's DNA from the Otero Fox and Wagerly crime scenes.

Feeling uneasy, Raider destroyed most of the evidence relating to his murders that he'd hoarded, though he kept some items.

He didn't want his crimes to remain unsolved forever.

Raider's plan was to reveal his full identity with proof on a CD or floppy disk, which he would then put in a safe deposit box hidden within his home.

After he died and the house was sold, he hoped someone would eventually discover the box and realise they had uncovered BTK.

Obsessed with his legacy, Raider longed for the world to eventually learn who he really was, but only on his terms, after he was beyond reproach.

In January 2004, the Wichita Regal published an article marking the 30th anniversary of the Otero murders.

To Raider's dismay, the article made it painfully clear that BTK had left no lasting mark on Wichita.

The legacy he'd hoped would endure long after his death simply did not exist.

His reign of terror had faded from memory, meaning there was little chance BTK would be named alongside the notorious killers Raider had once admired.

Left with nothing more than a bruised ego, the article re-ignited Raider's craving for attention, control and devalidation.

For the first time in over a decade, he sent a letter as BTK.

Intent on making a dramatic return, he revealed his responsibility for Vicky Wegele's murder.

Stepping back into the spotlight exhilarated him.

Where his earlier communications had been intended to guide investigators, now Raider simply wanted to stir the pot.

He falsely confessed to the murder of Kansas teen Jake Allen, and began turning over trophies stored in his hidey holes, including his victim's driver's licenses into jewelry, as well as his sketches and photographs.

Raider compared his actions during this time to a game of chess, finding enjoyment and creating increasingly elaborate packages and cryptic puzzles for the police to discover and solve.

To ensure that his story, and ultimately, his legacy, would be told in the exact way he wanted, Raider began releasing a serialized autobiography.

While the retellings of his crimes were mostly accurate, his backstory mixed truthful details without right fabrications.

So Raider, his comeback, was originally meant to be just for fun, but as he basked in the renewed attention, he found himself on the hunt for the first time in years.

Almost a year passed, and while Raider hadn't yet claimed another life, it wasn't for not trying.

And though he hadn't succeeded, neither had the police.

By this point, Raider had eluded them for more than three decades.

He watched their news conferences with amusement as they hopelessly begged BTK to communicate with them again.

Raider had come to believe that he was simply too smart to get caught.

Psychologists refer to this line of belief as the narcissistic immunity, a trait Raider shared with other infamous serial killers, including Ted Bundy, H.H. Holmes and Harvey Glatman.

As detailed in the book Confession of a Serial Killer by Catherine Ramsland,

narcissistic immunity often shows up in the most audacious and predatory people, repeat offenders who take significant risks.

They have a talent for rebounding from setbacks because they're so certain of their invulnerability, even when the evidence is clearly against them.

The peculiar resilience of narcissistic immunity derives from arrogance, a sense of entitlement, and disdain.

Such killers believe they have a special destiny and that they are smarter than anyone investigating them.

They pride themselves on their modes of deception and manipulation. However, they need others to affirm their superiority.

In addition, they can get defensive and needy, which damages their inflated sense of self.

When they retaliate over slits or criticism, the results can be deadly to their victims.

But such actions can also expose the killers more than they realize.

The narcissist's addiction to self can be his greatest strength in some contexts, but also his greatest weakness.

February 2005 marked a little over 31 years since BTK first terrorized Wichita with the Otero murders.

Dennis Rader had released only a few chapters of the BTK story so far, detailing the Otero and Fox killings.

He was preparing another communication featuring the full detailed account of Shirley Vian's murder, accompanied by a doll he'd mocked up to represent her.

He intended to put the doll in a miniature coffin wired to look like a bomb.

At 12.15pm on Friday, February 25, Rader drove home in his work truck for lunch, a daily routine executed like clockwork.

That day, however, a car sped up behind him.

Rader was startled by the sound of sirens blaring and red and blue lights flashing.

He pulled over, stepping out with an irritated expression.

He thought he must have been caught committing a minor infraction like running a stop sign.

Within seconds, however, multiple undercover police vehicles converged and boxed in his truck.

Officers in body armor with guns drawn leapt out and surrounded him shouting,

don't move, keep your hands where I can see them.

Rader froze, stunned by the chaos erupting around him.

Everything happened so fast that he barely had time to react.

Rader no resistance as an officer forced him to the pavement, though he spotted in confusion.

What did I do? And what's this all about?

Beneath the shock, a faint trace of resignation was visible on his face.

As Rader was lifted to his feet, he asked officers to call his wife, saying that she was expecting him for lunch.

I assume you know where I live, he added, aware that the scale of the operation could only mean one thing.

The jig was up.

He was led to a police vehicle where a detective was waiting in the back seat.

Immediately recognizing the man, Rader, said politely, hello Mr. Landware.

The detective casually replied, hello Mr. Rader.

Senior homicide detective Lieutenant Kenneth Landware was the commander of the Ghostbusters,

the task force responsible for investigating BTK.

Known as a dedicated and compassionate investigator, he had been part of the unit since its inception in 1984,

and was the last remaining member when it was unceremoniously disbanded three years later.

When BTK re-emerged in 2004, Landware spearheaded the task force's reactivation, persuading veteran members to return and recruiting new detectives to assist.

Credited with keeping the long-cold investigation alive, Landware became the public face of the case,

regularly appearing in the media to provide updates, appealed directly to BTK, and build a rapport with the killer.

When the case languished, public discourse questioned Landware's suitability for the job,

but his superiors felt that replacing him would send a bad message.

To their mind, no one knew the case better than Kenneth Landware.

Among the many strategies he helped engineer, Landware was instrumental in the plan to trick BTK into sending police a floppy disc.

The pivotal breakthrough that ultimately led them to uncover three crucial clues about the killer,

the Park City Community Public Library, the Christ Lutheran Church, and most significantly, the name Dennis.

The Ghostbusters task force had hastily searched online for the Christ Lutheran Church in Park City and located its website.

They discovered that the congregation's president was listed as a local man named Dennis Raider.

Although records showed that Raider didn't own a Jeep Cherokee SUV, the vehicle seen on CCTV when BTK left a package in a home depot parking lot,

they confirmed that he lived on North Independence Street in Park City, just a few doors down from unconfirmed BTK victim Marine Hedge.

Investigators scrambled to their cars and sped towards Park City.

Although energized by these latest developments, they also harbored nagging concerns that BTK might be orchestrating a long con,

possibly setting up a Dennis Raider who might be an innocent man.

On paper, there was nothing about Raider that suggested he could be a serial killer.

The 59-year-old had no prior history with the police.

As a long-time witcher-ton and married father of two, he had embedded himself in a local community as a trusted and valued member.

Not only was he highly active in his church, he was also a boy scout leader, and professionally, Raider was on the side of Lauren Dauder as a compliance officer.

Raider's official employee portrait depicted a smiling white man in uniform.

He was slightly stocky with dark hair that was balding on top, thin-framed eyeglasses, and a thick mustache.

He bore a resemblance to the fictional character George Costanza from the popular television sitcom Seinfeld.

In other words, he was as ordinary and unassuming as they came.

It was around noon when the Ghostbusters descended on North Independence Street and pulled up at Raider's home address.

To their surprise, a black Jeep Cherokee was parked in the driveway.

A check of the vehicle's registration revealed it belonged to Raider's adult son.

The presence of the Jeep heightened the officer's excitement,

realizing that a convoy of identical unmarked vehicles packed with men in suits staring intensely at his home might alert Raider,

the officers moved half a block away to plan their next move.

In his most recent communications, BTK had warned that his house had been rigged to explode if the police tried to breach it.

Driven by adrenaline, the Ghostbusters were willing to take the risk.

But, as they waited for the order to move in, the instruction came to return to base and carefully planned their next steps.

We are not going to do this now, they were told.

Despite the pressure to act, their superiors insisted on doing things right.

They didn't want to risk another Roger Valadez situation, and they were acutely aware that they were on the back foot.

BTK had spent more than 30 years preparing for this very moment.

The task force investigated Dennis Raider's background further,

discovering that he was an Air Force veteran who graduated from Wichita State University in 1979 with a bachelor's degree in administration of justice.

Both institutions had been linked to BTK.

A check with the pastor of the Christ Lutheran Church confirmed that Raider had used their computer and an examination of the device's hard drive revealed a smoking gun.

BTK's recent messages.

There was now little doubt, but the Ghostbusters needed objective proof.

They conducted extensive discussions about the best course of action, including placing tracking devices on Raider's vehicle or using FBI surveillance planes to monitor him from above.

These options were deemed too complicated and offered no guarantee of results.

The Ghostbusters wanted something simpler, something concrete.

They decided the most effective plan was to compare Raider's DNA with BTK's.

However, approaching Raider directly or indirectly for a sample might alert him to the investigation and give him time to react.

Investigators had gone to great lengths to avoid tipping him off that they were closing in,

even holding press conferences to implore BTK to communicate with them again as though they weren't making any progress.

After a vigorous debate on the ethics of the plan, investigators decided the safest way to test Raider's DNA was to avoid obtaining it from him at all.

Instead, they subpoenaed a DNA sample of Raider's adult daughter from an old pap smear in her medical records.

The sample containing cells collected during the routine cervical screening could be tested alongside BTK's DNA for a familial match.

Investigators were fully aware that Raider's daughter had done nothing wrong and that their method was highly personal, invasive and embarrassing.

But it was legally permissible and did not violate her privacy rights.

The sample was obtained without her knowledge and compared to carefully preserved seminal fluid left by BTK at his crime scenes as well as skin scrapings recovered underneath Vicky Wiggale's fingernails.

The results confirmed a familial match.

The exhausted but elated members of the Ghostbusters Task Force shared emotional high fives and hugs as one of them exclaimed joyfully.

It's over, baby.

Dennis Raider claimed that if he'd had time to react during his arrest, he would have brandished a gun, shot his way out and escaped, quote, like a movie superhero.

Reality instead placed him in the backseat of a police car next to Lieutenant Kenneth Landwer.

Raider recognized him from the BTK news conferences.

While he'd felt a stronger rapport with the previous head of the case, former Wichita Police Chief Richard Lamanian, he still trusted Landwer.

Landwer worked to maintain that trust.

He loosened Raider's handcuffs when he complained they were too tired, engaged him in friendly conversation, offered him a soda and allowed him to use the restroom.

But Landwer, treating Raider with courtesy and respect, was a calculated tactic to ensure his cooperation.

Raider appeared to respond positively in response and willingly answered questions, though he avoided providing meaningful answers and often spoke in the third person as if Dennis Raider was someone else.

At no point did he inquire as to why he had been arrested, prompting Landwer to finally ask after three hours of talking.

Why do you think we're here?

Raider presumed they wanted to talk to him about BTK.

When asked if he had followed the investigation, Raider replied,

Yeah, I've been a BTK fan for years, watching it.

I assume on the main suspect.

He proceeded to crack jokes about the case, but avoided addressing it directly.

Lieutenant Landwer pressed on.

Do you remember anything about the Otero murders?

Raider said he did, recalling what he had read in a newspaper, a man, his wife and their two young children.

It was pretty brutal, he remarked.

Why do you think the Oteros were murdered, Landwer asked?

Well, Raider said, if you take that murder and some of the others, I'd say you've got a serial killer loose.

Prior to the interrogation, Raider had agreed to be swobbed for DNA.

He was surprisingly upbeat about it.

Landwer wanted to know what Raider thought would happen if he's DNA matched to BTK's.

Raider nodded and replied,

I guess that might be it then.

When shown the purple floppy disk BTK had sent to police, Raider's demeanor changed.

There's no way I can weasel out of that or lie, he said defeatedly.

He asked about prison, then expressed the desire to speak with his pastor.

I really need help, he insisted, appearing on the verge of breaking down.

Raider were agreed on one condition.

First, he said, you need to talk.

Raider expressed concern about how his children would react to his arrest and how it would affect the wider Park City community.

He asked what would happen to BTK's house.

We'd tear it up looking for evidence, unless we know where to find it, Landwer replied.

Raider winced.

You guys have got me, he said.

How can I get out of it?

Resting his elbow on the table and his chin in the palm of his hand, he wondered aloud whether there was any way to escape the DNA results.

That up with Raider's stalling and FBI profiler observing the interrogation cut in sharply.

Enough, enough.

You've got to say it.

Just say who you are.

Raider replied simply.

I'm BTK.

Case file will be back shortly.

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Investigators took turns questioning Dennis Raider as he confessed to each of BTK's 10 known murders.

Joe Julie, Josie and Joey O'Taro, Catherine Bride, Shirley Vianne, Nancy Fox, Marine Hedge, Vicky Wiggley and Dolores Davis.

Raider tried to project a cool, cavalier persona throughout the process, making wisecracks, insulting detectives and mocking these victims.

Investigators noted that while BTK had emerged as a terrifying and formidable figure, the man behind the mask was something else entirely.

Stripped of mystery, Dennis Raider appeared far more pathetic than powerful.

In their words, he was nothing more than a dog.

A search of Raider's home didn't uncover any explosives, but it revealed plenty of other significant items.

In the attic were detective magazines, as predicted, as well as pornographic magazines focused on bondage.

A storage area at the rear of the house and a metal shed in the backyard contained bondage equipment.

Raider had told investigators about a cupboard with a false bottom, encouraging them to look beneath it.

When they did, they found Marine Hedge's wedding ring, along with photographs of her dead body taken inside the Christ of Lutheran Church.

The church was searched as well as the Park City Community Public Library.

In Raider's city hall office, investigators discovered his head kit, as well as one of his handguns.

In the bottom drawer of a cream-colored filing cabinet, lay what Raider referred to as his mother load.

Seven three-ring binders and more than 25 hanging file folders that contained a staggering array of material.

They included newspaper clippings into journals about BTK's crimes, sketches of his victims, computer discs labeled according to the chapters of BTK's autobiography,

and the original versions of the letters and poems Raider had sent to both the press and police.

They found the photographs he'd taken of Vicky Wiggley and Dolores Davis, along with the IDs into jury he'd stolen from each crime scene.

There was also a large number of disturbing photographs showing Raider engaging in extreme self-bondage, sometimes wearing clothing or lingerie stolen from his victims.

In several photos, he wore the hand-painted mask left near Dolores Davis' body.

meticulous records kept by Raider confirmed his 10 victims, and revealed he had stalked hundreds more.

Also found was the original note in which BTK asked whether a computer disc could be traced, and a newspaper clipping of the ad police used to respond.

Back in the interrogation room, Raider tapped on the floppy disc that led to his capture and asked, how come you lied to me, referring to the fact that police had led him to believe the disc could not be traced.

Because Lieutenant Kenneth Landworth replied, I was trying to catch you.

Raider admitted that he had been hesitant to send the disc.

He had personally checked it for any identifying information and even consulted acquaintances who were knowledgeable about computer technology.

All of them assured him that floppy discs couldn't be traced.

Feeling betrayed, he lamented.

You guys know more about computers than I do. Unlucky for me, lucky for you.

I thought I would pull it off, retire and keep mementos.

It didn't happen. You guys outsmarted me.

The more detective spoke with Raider, the more they realized that outsmarting him was hardly an achievement.

In fact, they were embarrassed by how unintelligent he seemed.

When questioned about the undecided string of 23 stenciled letters he had placed at the top of the wiggly confession letter, Raider treated Lieutenant Landworth like he was an idiot.

It's a code, Raider insisted. A German fractional code he claimed to have learned in the Air Force to be specific.

He was stunned that investigators had not cracked it.

When asked what the code meant, Raider answered.

Let Beatie know for his book, referring to author Robert Beatie, who was preparing to publish a book about BTK.

Landworth was confused. He asked Raider to demonstrate how he had converted that sentence into the string of letters and numbers in the code.

Raider tried, but he could not replicate his own method.

In that moment, it became clear. Raider had evaded capture for decades, not because he was a criminal mastermind, but because of sheer luck.

Over the course of two days, Raider spoke for 33 hours about his crimes, confessing that he would have had more victims if his personal life had not gotten in the way.

My big problem was my social contacts he had admitted.

If I was a lone wolf, you would have had many more victims. Many more. I guarantee that. Many more.

When you live at home with a wife, you can't go out and prowl around until three or four in the morning without your wife being suspicious.

So I had to connect this all with school and work and family life.

It was difficult, but that's the way I did it. Kind of like a spy.

He also admitted that during his 2004 resurgence, he had targeted an 11th victim as his final curtain call.

He said, she had a perfect pattern. I could almost time it within five minutes of when she was going to be home. Perfect. She didn't change her routine.

In my business, people that have routines were in bad shape.

The woman had a daughter and Raider was willing to kill them both, but reconsidered when he arrived at her house and noticed road workers nearby.

He was genuinely disappointed when detectives had heard enough and ended the interview, remarking that he had loved helping them work the cases.

The press conference announcing the capture of BCK was described by the Ghostbusters as a comedy.

Random government officials, politicians, law enforcement officers and prosecuting attorneys uninvolved in the case seized the podium to seek credit and graduation.

The task force watched in disappointment as the speakers self-congratulated while failing to acknowledge the work of the team or the loved ones of BCK's victims in attendance.

Finally, after 39 minutes, Lieutenant Kenneth Landware approached the podium.

He hadn't intended to thank anyone, but witnessing the spectacle before him prompted him to deviate from his planned speech.

I want to thank the families of the victims who gave us their trust and stood behind us, he said.

I want to thank the families of our task force who stood behind them.

He then personally thanked every member of law enforcement who had worked on the case and even named and thanked civilians who had provided tangible assistance.

In total, Landware named and thanked 42 people off the top of his head.

By this point, the name of the person in custody still hadn't been announced.

It was clear that everyone was still wary after the prior wrongful announcement implicating Roger Valadez.

Landware finally declared Dennis Raider's arrest for the BTK murders, choking up as he read out the names of the youngest victims, Josie and Joey Otero.

And with that, after 31 years, the mistake of a BTK was gone.

Any trace of this satisfaction Raider had felt during his lengthy police interview vanished when it came time for his jail booking photo, in which his face was utterly solemn.

This same attitude was reflected in a questionnaire he completed to assess his mental state.

When asked if he felt shame or embarrassment, Raider wrote, yes, because I got caught.

There was a palpable sense of relief in which it are following Dennis Raider's arrest.

Women could finally go about their lives without the fear of BTK.

But those who knew Raider personally, including his family, were left in shock.

Many struggled to reconcile BTK with the so-called regular guy they'd known as Nice and Friendly, who was respectful towards women and devoted to his wife.

For others, Raider had barely registered at all.

He'd lived such a low-key life that many who had encountered him over the years, from former colleagues to university instructors, didn't even remember him.

Still, a few recorded glimpses of what they later interpreted as his dark side, describing him as a, by the numbers, control freak, who could be arrogant and confrontational.

The most evocal member of Raider's family was his daughter, Kerry, whose DNA ultimately helped investigators identify him.

Kerry later described her experience of being raised by BTK in her book, a serial killer's daughter.

To her, Raider had been a normal, loving father, who built her a treehouse and taught her how to fish.

He warned her to be wary of strangers, advised her to hold her keys between her fingers when walking alone at night, and told her to ask for identification from anyone who came to the door because...

...they can pretend to be somebody else.

Reflecting on this, Kerry said...

He was trying really hard to protect us, but we realized he was also trying to protect us from somebody like him.

In June 2005, Raider appeared in court for his plea hearing.

The highly anticipated proceedings were livestreamed to a global audience, as speculation intensified over what plea he would enter.

Although he had already fully confessed, Raider had long established himself as someone who thrived on attention, control notoriety, and the hope of leaving a lasting legacy.

A lengthy trial would offer him the perverse satisfaction of reliving his crimes through the testimony of others, perhaps even himself, and inflict one final layer of pain on his victims by forcing their loved ones to endure at all.

Surprisingly, Raider made the decision that BTK's story had reached its conclusion, and announced a guilty plea to wall 10 counts of murder.

In his typically callous tone, he gave a detailed account of each killing, claiming that his motivation in every case was rooted in his sexual fantasy.

At times, he got basic but important details wrong, such as the Otero family's house number.

He stumbled over words, lost his train of thought, and expressed uncertainty on specifics.

Given that he'd been such a meticulous, successive, and detailed, oriented record keeper, many suspected his thoughtlessness was just one final mocking.

Police found Raider's courtroom performance so embarrassing that Lieutenant Kenneth Landwer muttered under his breath.

Jesus, you stupid son of a bitch, can you look any god damned stupider? You'll make anybody watching think that anyone could have caught you at any time.

Landwer's remark was not unwarrented, which at a police-faced significant criticism when BTK was finally unmasked, with many questioning how he had alluded capture for so long.

Raider had even left clues to his identity in the word search puzzle he sent as BTK in 2004, including the words lost pat and officer, referencing his animal control work as a compliance officer.

Landwer was willing to hear and accept the criticism, but the truth was that when people kill at random, they often get away with it.

At Raider's sentencing hearing, the victim's family and friends were given the chance to speak in the order that their loved ones had fallen victim to BTK.

First was Carmen Otero, who had been a teenager when she discovered her parents bound lifeless bodies.

Carmen spoke directly to Raider on behalf of herself and her two brothers, Danny and Charlie, who had also witnessed the harrowing scene.

She said,

Although we have never met, you have seen my face before. It is the same face you murdered over 30 years ago, the face of my mother, Julio Otero.

Raider, when you took away my mother, you took someone who meant a lot to a lot of people.

My mother loved life, her friends, a good laugh, dancing with my dad, and she loved to help people.

But most of all, she loved and lived for us, her family.

She showed me how to love, to be a good person, to accept others as they are, and most of all, to face your fears.

I'm sure you saw that in her face as she fought to live.

Carmen went on to describe the deep adoration her parents had for one another, having known each other since childhood.

She remembered her father Joe as a hardworking man who, in short, his family always felt secure.

Quote,

The thing that everyone remembers of my father is that he demanded respect, but that he gave it in return.

Everyone knew you didn't mess with the Joe's family.

I'm sure you could feel his love for his family, as you took away his last breath.

Speaking of her sister, Josie, Carmen said,

You should not have the privilege of even saying her name, such a sweet girl.

All she ever wanted was to be happy and successful in school.

She had dreams.

She was my shadow and at the same time, her own person.

She always tried to see the bright side of everything.

It's amazing to me that you could be so cruel to a sweet, beautiful child.

And finally, Carmen spoke about her brother, Joey, whom Radar had repeatedly referred to as merely Junior.

His name was Joey, not Junior, she stated.

But I guess it really doesn't matter to you.

You took away the most lovable son, outgoing, friendly and adorable little brother anyone could ever imagine.

Joey was a magnet.

He attracted people of all ages.

He could have done something big with his life, but you took care of that, didn't you?

A man with a gun against a little boy.

You are definitely a coward.

Carmen concluded.

Just recently I realized that I could not remember my mother's voice.

It was a painful discovery.

But as I put my thoughts on paper, it comes to me.

I am my mother's voice.

And I know we've been heard.

Despite having more than half of his family murdered by BTK, Charlie Otero said.

When it's all said and done, Dennis Radar has failed in his attempts to kill the Otero family.

Kevin Bright spoke next.

Kevin, who survived being shot twice in the head by BTK, revealed that he suffered permanent nerve damage as a result.

He described that the lingering anguish over every decision he made during the attack,

wishing he had managed to wrestle the gun from Radar and end him then and there.

Despite his ongoing trauma, Kevin explained.

I'm glad I was there that day because of what Dennis Radar in his fantasy world was going to do to Catherine if I wasn't.

I'm glad that I was preventing him from doing anything like that.

Speaking of his older sister as a beautiful young woman, Kevin expressed pride after learning that Radar had told authorities she had fought like a hellcat.

He added.

I'm so proud of her for that because I knew she had that in her.

Despite having been just six years old at the time, Stephen Ralford carried a lifelong guilt for opening the door that allowed BTK into his home to murder his mother Shirley Vianne.

Though he did not prepare a formal statement for the court, he nevertheless had something to say.

Wiping away tears, he said.

I'd adjust to like for him to suffer for the rest of his life. That's all.

Nancy Fox's sister Beverly told the court.

There are no words to make you understand what losing Nancy has meant to me and my family.

I lost a friend, a confidant.

My children will never have an aunt, and I'll never have another sister.

Nancy's death is like a deep wound that will never ever heal.

As far as I'm concerned, Dennis Radar does not deserve to live.

I want him to suffer as much as he made his victim suffer.

But then when I think about that, in his sick, perverted way, he would probably find that as some kind of pleasure or reward.

This man needs to be thrown in a deep dark hole and left to rot.

He should never, ever see the light of day.

In reference to Radar's fantasies about his victims serving him in the afterlife, Beverly offered her own scenario.

Nancy and all of his victims will be waiting with God and watching him burn in hell.

A spokesperson provided a succinct statement on behalf of the loved ones of marine hedge.

They thanked all the members of the Ghostbusters Task Force for making that day possible,

while urging the court to impose the maximum sentence allowed by the law on the monster responsible.

For almost 20 years, Bill Weggley had faced painful accusations that he had killed his wife Ficki

until DNA tests implicated BTK in the crime.

Calling Radar vicious and cruel, Bill told the court.

It's all in the light now.

There's no punishment you can exact upon him that will satisfy our needs.

We can just ask the court to bestow upon him the most that you can.

And hopefully, we will not have to deal with him or see him or hear from him ever again.

Vicki's daughter Stephanie described every day being a struggle without her mother, adding,

it's not fair that we had so little with her.

I only had ten years with her and my brother Brandon only had two.

Anyone who knew my mom knew how much she loved her family.

There's nothing she wouldn't do for any of us.

My mother begged for her life, yet he showed no remorse.

He saw that she had a family and a little boy right there in the house with her,

yet he continued with his sick plan.

I asked today, Your Honor, to show no remorse for him.

He isn't worthy.

In a speech deemed deserving of a standing ovation if the court had permitted it,

the Laura's Davis' son Jeffrey delivered a lengthy passionate address that read in part.

For the last 5,326 days, I have wondered what it would be like to confront the walking cesspool

that took my mother's precious life.

Throughout that time, I always envisioned this day as being one for avenging the past.

I could think of nothing but savoring the bittersweet taste of revenge as justice is served

upon this social sewage here before us today.

Now that it has arrived, surprisingly, I realized that this day is not just about avenging past crimes.

Sitting here before us is a depraved predator, a rabid animal that has murdered people,

poisoned countless lives and terrorized this community for 30 years,

or the while relishing every minute of it.

As such, there can be no justice harsh enough or revenge bitter enough in this world at least,

to cause the pain and suffering a social malignancy like this has caused.

Therefore, I have determined that for the sake of our innocent victims

and their loving families and friends with us here today, for me,

this will be a day of celebration, not retribution.

If my focus were hatred, I would stare you down and call you a demon from hell

who defiles this court at the very side of its cancerous presence.

If I embrace bitterness, I would remind you that you are nothing

but a despicable child murdering cowardly, impotent, unique and pervert,

masquerading as a human being.

If I were spiteful, I would remind you that it is only fitting

that a twisted narcissistic psychopath obsessed with public attention

will soon have his world reduced to an isolated solitary existence in an 80 square foot cell

doomed to language away the rest of your miserable life alone.

If I had your devil nature, I would delight in the fact that your congregation has turned its back on you,

that your friends have deserted you, that your wife has divorced you,

that your own children have disowned you.

And then, I would remind you will never have any warm loving human contact again

for the remainder of your twisted existence.

If I had your sadistic nature, I would delight in the pain you feel now

in realizing that your own arrogance and ego got you caught,

that if you just kept your big mouth shut, you'd still be able to be a free man today.

If I were judgmental, I would call you the most despicable form of hypocrite

for profaning Christianity, but daring to associate yourself with my faith

and for blasphemy in God's house with your demonic actions.

But I won't hurl these invectives at you or I won't rain these curses down upon you

because you're not smart enough to understand most of the words I would use anyway.

And even if you could fathom the depth of my hatred for you,

I would still refuse to waste any breath on you,

because that would once again allow you the satisfaction of being in the limelight

and that attention I refuse to allow you.

As of today, you no longer exist.

From this point on, we declare our independence from the tyranny of your actions.

While your body wastes away in prison, we were renew ourselves

by incorporating into our lives those characteristics modeled by our loved ones,

humility, compassion, honor, integrity, kindness, selflessness, and love.

Your despicable actions will not defeat us.

Our very lives will be testimony that good can triumph over even the most hideous form of evil

and perversion.

Just as your days are over, ours are just beginning.

In the final analysis, you have to live with the cold reality

that while all of us here will overcome your depravity,

you have now lost everything and you will forever remain nothing.

May that torment you for the rest of your tortured existence.

Radar was accused of shedding crocodile tears during the victim's family statements.

Then, in a rambling and at times incoherent 20 minutes speech,

he offered an apology to them all,

but they had deliberately left the courtroom beforehand so they wouldn't have to hear any of it.

In the end, it made no difference.

Those who witnessed Radar's supposed remorse didn't believe that a word of it was genuine.

Because Radar's crimes had occurred during years when Kansas had no death penalty,

he did not face execution.

Instead, he was given the maximum sentence available,

ten consecutive life terms, one for each murder.

Dennis Radar, who was 60 years old, would die in prison long before becoming eligible for parole.

Although there has been speculation about other potential BTK victims,

exhaustive investigations have failed to uncover any proof

that Radar is responsible for any other killings other than the ten he confessed to.

Although Radar did not pursue an insanity defense,

some struggled to reconcile that his crimes could have been carried out by a sane person.

Since his arrest, he has spoken willingly about his crimes to anyone prepared to listen,

from pen pals to psychologists,

repeating the same stories about the so-called little monster in his head.

He's good and dark sides, factor acts, and cubing.

While Radar is not the first serial killer to attribute his actions to some kind of mystical or mental influence,

his manipulative and self-serving nature means his words should be taken with caution.

He has been officially diagnosed with narcissistic, obsessive compulsive,

and anti-social personality disorders,

but has never received a formal diagnosis of psychopathy.

While many in law enforcement, including FBI profilers,

use this label to describe him,

psychopathy researchers are less definitive in their opinions.

Though they acknowledge that Radar exhibits several of its core traits.

One detective who had initially accepted the idea of Radar having a jackal and hide-like personality

came away with an entirely different impression after interviewing him.

To the detective, Radar's lack of genuine remorse

suggested a little real division in his mind,

that he's goodside, never truly existed, and was only ever an act.

In his opinion, Radar was and has always been the little monster.

Another observer described Radar as the closest thing he had ever encountered to a human being without a soul.

For the detectives who ultimately captured Dennis Radar,

all of his explanations were just excuses to shift the blame onto anything or anyone but himself.

To them, his motive was simple, cold-blooded egocentrism.

As Lieutenant Kenneth Landwer put it in bind torture kill,

the inside story of the serial killer next door by Roy Wenzel.

It boils down to this.

We all make choices.

Radar made years, and ten people died.

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