Let me introduce myself. My name is Dr. Frank Warren. I am a psychologist that studies and specializes in the specific field of violent crimes. The minds of those criminals rather than the acts themselves. Though I suppose they both go hand in hand.
It is certainly not a field of flattery by any means. I often get questions that refer to how an individual can spend so much time in fields of study like my own, without inducing just a bit of psychopathy on themselves. The question is fair enough. I’m not entirely sure there is a boundary there after all. The sayings of ‘It takes a thief to catch a thief’ or ‘It takes a liar to know a liar’ sometimes make me wonder if it too takes a psychopath to truly know and understand one.
“Just food for thought.” I mumbled quietly to myself as I entered the maximum-security prison where my latest case study is being held.
Subject: James Andrew Kauper, Male, 54 years of age.
Two years ago, Mr. Kauper was convicted of 52 murders. Suspected of nearly 60 additional. He would write all of his victims a letter by hand the night of or day prior to the attacks. He was active in all 48 continental states and suspected to have carried out additional violent acts in Canada. He would spend days with the victims after he had claimed the victim’s life. Mr. Kauper has never eluded as to why. It is unknown how long he was actively committing these crimes, but I suspect it has been nearly his entire life.
He always left the note pinned to the body in some way for police to find. They were all signed J. A. K. Initially, he was thought to be some spin off mockery of Jack the Ripper due to this. That theory was discarded shortly after. Most interesting of all was how he was… captured. He wasn’t. One afternoon, Mr. Kauper walked into a small town’s police station in northern Oregon, told them his name, gave his social security number and place of birth, confessed to murders in nearly every state and sat down in a chair in the lobby as they confirmed this information. When his day in court came, he plead guilty of the charges. After he was sentenced, the judge asked him why he turned himself in after over 30 years of evasion. His response was this.
“Your honor, I am going to assume you have played chess with children before. It may be amusing the first few times you play together. Before long, you lose interest as the is no challenge in playing the game without a worthy adversary. I have simply chosen to stop playing the game.”
After I met briefly with warden of the prison and signed a waiver or two, I was checked into their logs as a guest. This came with a badge stating so and a personal security escort. He was a young man. Couldn’t have been older than 25 at the most.
During the walk, he remained silent. The only time he spoke was when he signaled for another guard to open a locked barred door and when he signaled again for him to reapply the lock. Once we arrived at the room where I would be conducting my interview, he scanned his badge to let me in. Mr. Kauper was already seated and restrained.
“It’s 11:14. You got an hour on the dot, doc. If you want to be let out early, you push the red button on the edge of the table.” The guard spoke in a matter of fact, no nonsense tone. He kept his eyes to the ground. I sent him away with a thank you.
I placed my recording device on the table and readied my notepad. Mr. Kauper stared at me the entire time.
“I am Dr. Warren. Thank you for meeting with me today, Mr. Kauper.”
“The pleasure is all mine, doctor.”
“May I inquire as to why you accepted the request to interview you? It’s my understanding that many before me have made similar requests and you have denied all of them.”
“I suppose it was time. After all, what’s the point of a spider spinning its web if doesn’t catch a fly or two?” He smiled faintly, the corner of his lips raising almost unnoticeably on both sides.
His response had me questioning the intent, but I decided to disregard it. Individuals with psychosis like Mr. Kauper often have tangled views on reality and feel they are in control of situations when they are in fact not.
“Then if you don’t mind, I am going to get started with the interview.” I waited for a response, but he just continued to stare with the same smile. “Do you remember the age at which you started to have ill intent towards other people?”
“I was 6. It was the day my younger sister was born.” Mr. Kauper stated. “To answer your next question, doctor, I was 11 when I committed my first offence. I drowned my sister in lake near our house and I left her there. Everyone assumed she had fallen while playing and nothing else came of it.”
I was taken aback. This individual was never known to be talkative, nor has he ever been known to divulge so easily. My brow creased as I stared at the man. “I… see. Was it immediately after this incident that it became habitual, or was there a gap of time?”
“No, doctor. I played by societies menial rules for 5 more years. The next time was during my very first date. She was such a lovely young woman.” His smile widened just a bit more. “It is rare to see someone meet their end with such elegance. I stored her body for nearly a month before returning it back to her family.”
I narrowed my eyes as I stared back at him. He hasn’t blinked since I walked into this room. “Mr. Kauper… You have made a habit of spending time with your victims after the initial incident. What exactly is it that you do with the victim’s body during the time you spend with them?”
“I find it rather equivocal that everyone want’s to know what I do with a corpse.”
“How so?” I responded on reflex. Not a second had passed and I realized that it was a mistake. You always lead. Never take the bait.
Mr. Kauper’s smile curled into nearly a full grin as he spoke. “On one hand, I understand the trepidation some may have toward the act… But individuals such as yourself, Dr. Warren, are much too involved to fall on that side. So where does that leave you?”
“I don’t involve myself in these studies for the sake of some vicarious means, if that’s what you’re implying.” I began to tap my pen on the notepad.
“Don’t you?” His eyes darted from one of my eyes to the other, staring into both of them for a moment before moving to the next. His smile was a full tooth grin now. “In my own findings, Doctor, it is all too common place that individuals of your stature have transgressions done upon them as children.”
The tapping of my pen became slightly more rapid. As he grew more excited, I grew more nervous.
“Who was it for you? Was it your father? I bet it was, wasn’t it? It matters not your accomplishments, doctor. You will never rid yourself of the cravings that crawl in the back of your mind. You may suppress them for a time, but I can see it when I look in your eyes. Your actions are not of a man who is filled with curiosities. They are of a man whose selfish desire to quell and conquer his inner demons rule the matters of everyday life.”
I looked away from Mr. Kauper. I couldn’t stand his grin any more. I took a deep breath to calm myself, cleared my throat and turned back to the man before me. He was no longer smiling. I’m not sure if it was due to the nervousness boiling over or if it was due to skipping breakfast, but at that moment my stomach rumbled. It was the last thing I wanted to hear at that moment… His face was twisted into a scowl of sorts as he leaned in closer, reaching himself as far across the table as he could. He still hasn’t blinked. Those eyes just keep boring into me.
“Doctor. Would you care to know the one thing I regret not doing?”
“What would that be, Mr. Kauper?”
“Eat them.” He said it very casually.
“Excuse me?” I wasn’t sure I heard him right.
“Eat the bodies. Feast on their flesh. Cannibalize them. Come now, keep up doctor.” He sounded irritated that he had to repeat himself.
“What is it that compels you to regret that?”
“Curiosity.”
“Elaborate, please.” I was afraid of what the answer was going to be, if I’m being honest.
“I have always wondered if the marrow of child has a different flavor than that of an adult. Do our vices corrupt the sweet taste of a child as we grow? Would stew be the best way to cook the body? How about smoking it? I wonder if you can cook a newborn the same way you would cook a Cornish hen.” His scowl deepened.
In the next few moments, I swear James Kauper… changed. He became larger than life. I felt dwarfed sitting in front of the man. The room dimmed some, it seemed, but I can’t be certain. As he spoke, his voice grew deep and reverberated through me.
“Dr. Warren you are a fraud. You seek not the truth. You do not want answers. You crave freedom. You are jealous of my accomplishments. You simply don’t have the gull to enact them yourself. You lack the brains to retain your freedom if you let your inner desires run free.”
I sunk into my chair a little more with each sentence.
“I.. I don’t…” I stammered. “Th-then why are-why are you h…”
“I am here by choice, doctor. I advise you to remember that.”
I heard a tap on the glass of the door and looked behind me. The guard buzzed himself in and a loud click resounded through the room as the door unlocked. As I looked back to Mr. Kauper, his jovial demeanor had returned. He smiled that faint, friendly, suburban father smile again.
“It appears that is our time doctor.” He nodded his head towards the guard. “Time most certainly does escape those having fun.”
“T-thank you for your time and cooperation, sir.” I swallowed hard and stood up. I fumbled noticeably as I gathered my things and the guard took my arm, rushing me out of the room. He escorted me to the locked gate and turned to me before we continued any further.
“I understand you are an accomplished and experienced psychiatric specialist, but with all do respect Dr., I suggest you forget about anything and everything that monster told you.” The guard sounded nervous. I wondered if he too had had the unfortunate experience of having conversations with Mr. Kauper.
As I stood there processing the guards warning, an alarm began to sound. It was accompanied with flashing red lights and the young man tensed immediately. He signaled for the door to be opened and the guard on the other side of the gate let me through.
“Time to go, Dr. Warren.” The guard controlling the cell block doors called to me.
I nodded blankly and headed to my car. I sat there for quite some time before finally starting the engine and driving home. I thought long and hard about the conversation I just had with what has been regarded as the most psychotic serial killer this country has ever seen. The rest of my day is mostly a daze. I vaguely remember listening back to the tape but I don’t even remember going to sleep that night.
What I do remember very clearly is waking up in a panic. I was drenched in a cold sweat and had terrible tremors. Once I steadied myself enough, I turned on my nightstand light. There was a handwritten note sitting there.
“Dear Dr. Warren,
It saddens me to see I have missed you this evening. Words cannot express to you my gratitude for igniting that spark in me. For what is a man’s meaning without passion? The past few years have been so dull, so empty. My appointment with you this afternoon, seeing that cardinal fear in your eyes, watching you realize how helpless you actually are… That is certainly the most indulged I have been in ages, Doctor. When I stop by for my next appointment, I will be sure to bring you a gift. I will be seeing you so very soon, Dr. Warren.
With love and best wishes,
James A. Kauper”