Dennis Nilsen
The Dangerous Stranger

Dennis Nilsen, 33, met the young man in the pub, late in 1978, and invited him home, to
195 Melrose Avenue in London. They continued to drink and eventually crawled into bed
together to sleep. Nilsen woke up at dawn and realized that his new friend was now going
to leave. He ran his hand over his bedmates body, becoming aroused. His heart pounded
and he began to sweat.

He watched the young man sleep and looked over at the pile of clothing they had both
discarded. He spotted his tie, so he got out of bed to retrieve it.

I raised myself and slipped it on under his neck, Nilsen wrote four years later. I quickly
straddled him and pulled tight for all I was worth. His body came alive immediately. We
struggled off the bed onto the floor.

Nilsen tightened his grip, not about to let go and lose this battle to the death. His victim
pushed himself with his feet, with Nilsen on top of him, along the carpet. When he came
up against the wall, he lay there and grew limp, giving up. Nilsen relaxed, but realized the
man was not yet dead, only unconscious. He ran into the kitchen and filled a plastic bucket
full of water in order to drown the man. Nilsen lifted him onto some chairs, draping his
head back, and pushed it into the bucket. The man did not struggle, although water
splashed all over the carpet.

After a few minutes, Nilsen recalled, the bubbles stopped coming. I lifted him up and
sat him on the armchair. The water was dripping from his short, brown curly hair.

He had just killed a man and did not even recall his name.

Nilsen sat there shaking, barely cognizant of what he had done and what he now faced as a
result. He made himself a cup of coffee and smoked several cigarettes, trying to think
what to do. His black-and-white dog, Bleep, came in from the garden and sniffed at the
corpse in the chair. He ran the dog off and then sat down in shock. He removed the tie
from the dead mans neck and just stared at him. Then he got up, put a towel over the
window, and hoisted the corpse onto his shoulders to carry it into the bathroom.

Gently, Nilsen put him into the tub, ran water, and washed the mans hair. He was very
limp and floppy. He struggled to get him out of the tub and dry him off. Then he took
him back into the other room and put him in the bed. His new friend was not going to
leave him now.

He ran his hand over the still-warm flesh, noticing the slight discoloration of his lips and
face. He pulled the bedclothes over him and sat on the bed, trying to think.

It was the beginning of the end of my life as I had known it, Nilsen wrote. I had started
down the avenue of death and possession of a new kind of flat-mate.

Rather than being appalled by the sight of a corpse, he thought it quite beautiful. He did
not really know why he had killed the young man. He just had not wanted him to leave.
He had spent Christmas alone and did not want to do the same for New Years. Now he
had someone to spend it with.

Later that day he went to a hardware store to buy an electric knife and a large pot, but he
could not bring himself to cut the body up this way. Instead, he opened some new
underwear and dressed the body. Then Nilsen took a bath.

Thats when he decided to try to have sex with the corpse. He got into bed, but could not
sustain the arousal he had felt moments earlier, so he pulled the body off the bed and laid it
on the floor. He used a curtain to cover it. He got into the bed and fell asleep.

Later he got up, made dinner and watched television with the body still lying there on the
floor not far away.

Finally he knew he needed to do something. He pried loose some floorboards and tried to
shove the body into the space, but rigor mortis had set in, preventing him from
maneuvering. He stood the body against the wall, deciding to wait until the stiffness
passed.

However, the next day, he was still standing there against the wall, so Nilsen laid him
down and worked on his limbs to loosen them. Finally he was able to get him into his
grave under the floor. He covered the corpse with boards.

After a week, Nilsen grew curious, so he lifted the carpet and opened up the floor once
again. The corpse was dirty, so Nilsen carried it back into the bathroom to wash it. Then
Nilsen washed himself in the same water. When he carried the body back to the living
room, he was so aroused that he knelt down and masturbated into the corpses stomach.
Rather than stuff him beneath the floor again, he trussed him up by the ankles. Eventually
it went back under the floorboards. It remained there for seven and a half months, until
Nilsen took it out and burned the remains in a bonfire. He added rubber to the fire to mask
the smell of burning flesh. He raked the ashes into the ground.

The young man was never identified.

Nilsen was astonished that he was able to get away with this and believed it would never
happen again. He was wrong. It would happen fourteen more times.

In October 1979, nearly a year after the first murder, a young Chinese student, Andrew
Ho, went home with Nilsen. The young man wanted to try some bondage play. Nilsen was
disinclined, but put a tie around his neck and told him he was playing a dangerous game.
Ho left and informed the police, but no charges were brought.

By 1981, Nilsen had killed twelve men in that apartment. Only four were identified:
Kenneth Ockendon, Martyn Duffey, Billy Sutherland, and Malcolm Barlow. Many of them
may have been unemployed or homeless young men looking for a way to make money.
Some were homosexual, and a few were male prostitutes. Nilsen claimed he went into a
killing trance, and on seven occasions, actually freed the men rather than complete the
act, because he was able to snap out of it.

The second victim was Kenneth Ockendon, a Canadian tourist.

He met Nilsen at lunch at a pub on December 3rd, 1979. They drank together for several
hours, took a tour of London, and ended up in Nilsens flat. They got along very well, and
the more Nilsen enjoyed Ockendons company, the more desperate he felt at the thought
that the Canadian was flying home the following day.

He strangled Ockendon with an electrical cord from some headphones, dragged him
across the floor, and then sat down to listen to several pieces of music while the body lay
there on the floor. Then he removed the clothing and took him into the bathroom to clean
him up. Once finished, he placed the corpse in bed and slept with it the rest of the night,
caressing it frequently. In the morning, Nilsen stuffed the body in a cupboard, tossed out
the clothing, and went to work.

During the day, the body rigidified in a doubled up position.

Nilsen took him out a day later and cleaned him up again. Then he dressed the corpse and
sat him in a chair, taking photos of it in various positions. When he was finished with that,
he took the young man into his bed and positioned it, spread-eagled, on top of him. He
spoke to Ockendon as if he could hear. Then he crossed his legs together and had sex
between his thighs. Finally, Nilsen relegated Ockendon to the space beneath the
floorboards. He took him back out several times so they could sit together and watch
television.

I thought that his body and skin were very beautiful, Nilsen said later. Then he would
dress him in something fresh, put him to bed and tell him good night.

Five months went by before it happened again. On May 13th, 1980, Martyn Duffey, 16,
turned up missing. He was homeless and he accepted Nilsens invitation to spend the
night. After two beers, he went to bed. Nilsen climbed on top, trapping his arms under the
covers, and strangled him. He went limp, but was still alive, so Nilsen carried him into the
kitchen and drowned him by pushing his head into a sink full of water. Then he took him
to the bathroom and got into the tub with him. I talked to him and mentioned that his
body was the youngest looking I had ever seen. Nilsen brought him back to bed and
kissed him all over, then sat on his stomach and masturbated.

Duffrey went into the cupboard for two full weeks, and then was placed under the
floorboards.

The next one, Billy Sutherland, 27, slept with men for money. Nilsen did not even want to
take him home, but he followed Nilsen after they went bar-hopping one night. Nilsen
barely recalls strangling him and finding a body in his home the next morning.

Malcolm Barlow, 24, was an orphan with mental problems. He was also a pathological
liar. Nilsen found Barlow loitering outside his home, complaining of weakness from
epilepsy, and he took him home and called an ambulance. When Barlow was released, he
came back and sat on Nilsens doorstep to await his return from work. Nilsen invited him
in and they drank together before Barlow fell into a deep sleep. Nilsen found his presence
a nuisance, so he strangled him. The next day, he stuffed Barlow in the cabinet under the
kitchen sink. He sat in the flat with a half dozen other bodies awaiting disposal. Some of
them Nilsen had kept in bed with him for sexual purposes for as long as a week. Having
control over these men thrilled him and the mystery of a dead body that would not
respond fascinated him. It was his feeling that he appreciated them more deeply than they
had ever been appreciated before.

Nilsen sprayed his rooms twice a day to be rid of flies that were hatched. Another tenant
mentioned the pervasive odor, but Nilsen assured her it was the decay of the building.
Once he contemplated suicide, but his dog came in, wagging her tail, and he decided
against it. Instead he spat on his image in the mirror.

To get rid of the corpses, he would put his dog and cat in the garden, strip down to his
underwear, and cut them up on the stone kitchen floor with a kitchen knife. Sometimes he
would boil flesh off the head in the pot he had bought for the first victim. He had learned
how to butcher, so he knew how best to cut up a body, and he placed the organs in a
plastic bag. Then he would replace the whole package under the floor until the next step.

At one point, there were two entire bodies beneath the boards and one dismembered. He
also put pieces into the garden shed or down a hole near a bush outside. Internal organs he
put into a gap between the double fencing in his yard. A few severed torsos he stuffed into
suitcases. When he could, he dragged the bags and suitcases out to the yard and burned
the bodies a few feet from the garden fence.

It always amazed him that no one queried him about his activities or tried to stop him. (In
fact, when his apartment was vandalized, he had detectives investigate and they remained
completely unaware that they stood over the remains of two men.) Children came from the
neighborhood to watch the blazing fire, which burned all day, and Nilsen warned them to
keep some distance from it.

As the fire burned down, he spotted a skull in the center and crushed it into ash. Then he
raked the remains of six men into the earth. Five more were still to die in that apartment,
their remains consumed in a third bonfire.

When he prepared to move to a new place, he checked around and nearly forgot that he
had placed the hands and arms of Martyn Barlow near a bush. He took care of that final
detail and then drove away, hoping to put this part of his life behind him. Sixteen months
later, after he was arrested, police officers found over one thousand bone fragments in his
former garden.

Nilsen had lost the use of a garden and even of a space underneath floorboards. The house
where he moved had been divided into six apartments and his flat at 23 Cranley Gardens
was an attic. He was sure this would be a deterrent for his compulsive homicides.
However, three more murders took place, and his quarters presented a complicated
problem regarding disposal.

The first victim was John Howlett, whom Nilsen called John the Guardsman. They had
met once in a pub and had engaged in a long conversation. Then Nilsen was drinking alone
one day when John walked in and recognized him. They chatted and then decided to go to
Nilsens place, where after drinking awhile, John got into Nilsens bed. Nilsen tried to get
him to leave, but he refused to go. Nilsen then found a length of loose upholstery strap on
an armchair and used it to strangle the man. At one point he feared he would be
overpowered, so he tightened his grip as John fought for control. Then he struck his head
and soon went limp. Nilsen kept the strap on him until he was sure he was dead, and then
went shakily into the other room. He soon became aware the John was still alive. He
lopped the strap around his neck again and held it for two or three minutes. However,
Johns heart was still beating, so Nilsen dragged him into the bathroom to drown him,
leaving him there the rest of the night. Then he put the body in a closet as he contemplated
how to get rid of it.

He decided to dissect it into small pieces and flush it down a toilet. He had to hurry as he
had a friend coming to visit. When the flushing process took longer than expected, he
boiled some of the flesh in his kitchen, along with the head, hands, and feet. Then the
bones were separated and put into the trash. Some larger bones he hurled over the back
garden fence into a waste area, and placed others into a bag sprinkled inside with salt and
stored those in a tea chest. He covered that with a red curtain.

The second man was Archibald Graham Allan. Nilsen made him an omelet, and what he
recalled of this death was rather odd. I noticed he was sitting there and suddenly he
appeared to be asleep or unconscious with a large piece of omelet hanging out of his
mouth. At that point he thought he strangled him, but does not recall. He thought the
man might have choked on the egg dish. If the omelet killed him, I dont know. Since an
omelet does not leave red marks on someones neck, Nilsen supposed that he was the one
responsible.

He placed Allan into a bath and left him there for three days, then dissected him as he had
with John the Guardsman.

The third and last victim was Steven Sinclair, age 20, who took drugs and loitered about
the Leicester Square. On January 23rd, 1983, some of his acquaintances saw him go off
with strange man. They went to Nilsens home where Nilsen sat and listened to music,
while Sinclair shot up and then fell asleep in a chair. Nilsen went into the kitchen and
found some thick string, thinking to himself, Here we go again. The string was too short
so he attached it to a tie. He draped the ligature over the sleeping mans knees and poured
himself a drink. Then he sat and contemplated all the pain in Stephen's life and decided to
stop it for him. He went over, made sure he was deep asleep, and then used the
string-and-tie ligature to strangle him. He struggled slightly and then went unconscious.
Nilsen told him, Nothing can hurt you now. Then he removed bandages on Stephens
arms and discovered that he recently had tried to commit suicide with a razor.

Nilsen then bathed him and put him into the bed. He placed two mirrors by the bed and
removed his clothes so that he could look at the two of them naked together. He
experienced a feeling of oneness and thought that this surely was the meaning of life and
death. He talked with Stephen as if he were still alive. The dog jumped into bed with them
and sniffed at Stephen. Nilsen turned the young mans head toward him and kissed it. He
had no idea that this corpse would betray him and finally be the cause of his undoing.

Nilsen believes his troubles can be pinpointed to the traumatizing sight of his grandfathers
corpse. He was born in Fraserburgh, Scotland, on November 23, 1945 the only child of
Betty and Olav Nilsen. It was an unhappy marriage, full of conflict from Olavs
drunkenness and long absences.

The marriage lasted seven years until Betty divorced Olav. She and Dennis, along with his
two siblings, were already living in the home of her parents, since her husband had never
provided otherwise, so they just stayed where they were.

Young Dennis especially loved his grandfather, Andrew Whyte, but when Dennis was only
six, Andrew died. Without telling Dennis what had happened, his mother took him in to
see the corpse, which triggered a terrible awareness of devastating loss. He says in
retrospect that it caused a sort of emotional death inside him.

When he was eight, he nearly drowned in the sea, and was rescued by an older boy who
was playing on the beach. The boy must have been aroused by Nilsens prostrate body, for
he removed his clothes and apparently masturbated onto him. Nilsen awoke to find a
sticky white substance on his stomach.

Then his mother remarried two years later and he withdrew and became a loner. She had
four more children and little time for Dennis.

He never exhibited rage, cruelty to animals or other children, or any type of aggressiveness
typically associated with conduct-disordered boys who become killers later in life. In fact,
he was horrified by cruelties that he witnessed by others.

Once he helped to search for a man who had turned up missing, and he and a friend found
the mans corpse on the banks of a river. The man had wandered out in the night and had
drowned. The body reminded Nilsen of his grandfather, whose death and permanent
departure he had been unable to comprehend. He felt oddly distant.

Having had no sexual encounters as an adolescent, but having experienced attraction to
other boys, Nilsen remained fairly innocent. Once he had looked at his brothers sleeping
form, exploring his naked anatomy, but that had been quickly aborted.

In 1961, he enlisted in the army and became a cook, which is how he learned butchery.

He began to rely on alcohol to stave off loneliness, although he kept his distance from
others. It was during these years, when he finally got a private room, that he would lay
down in front of a mirror in such a way as not to see his head and pretend to be
unconscious. The other body aroused him and he would masturbate as he contemplated
it.

During the last few months of service, he met a man whom Brian Masters, in the definitive
book on Nilsen, called Terry Finch, and they developed a close friendship. Nilsen was
clearly in love and he got the young man, who was not gay, to pretend to be dead while he
took home movies. Their parting was a source of great pain for Nilsen. He destroyed the
films he had made and gave the projector to Terry.

In 1972, he trained to become a policeman. One of the experiences he recalled was seeing
autopsied bodies in a morgue. He found himself fascinated. Nevertheless, this job was not
for him and after a year, he resigned. He got employment as a job interviewer and
remained with that until his arrest.

He met a young man there, David Painter, who was looking for a job. Nilsen later
encountered him in the street and they went together to Nilsens flat. Painter crawled into
bed and fell asleep. He awoke to find Nilsen taking pictures of him, and he created such a
row that he hurt himself and had to be taken to a hospital. Nilsen was questioned by the
police and released.

He fell into a life of casual pick-ups, but was trouble with how transient and superficial
they were. He sought something more enduring. He was ready to commit, if only someone
would commit to him. His fantasies in the mirror developed more bizarre qualities. Now
he thought of the other body as being dead-a state he perceived as emotional and
physical perfection. He even used make-up to achieve a better effect, including mixing up
some fake blood to make it appear that he had been murdered. He imagined someone
coming in to take him and bury him. Sometimes it worried him to be so in love with his
own dead body.

In 1975, he moved into 195 Melrose Place in north London-a ground floor flat with a
garden--with a man named David Gallichan, who denied that their friendship was
homosexual. They bought a puppy, which they named Bleep, and then added a cat.

Two years later, with their diverse personalities causing considerable distress to both,
Nilsen ordered Gallichan to leave. Afterward, however, he felt very afraid that he would
end up alone. Loneliness is a long unbearable pain, he wrote. He threw himself into his
work, became increasingly more political, drank more, and watched a lot of television.

The killings began a year and a half after Gallichan left.

The last body Nilsen dissected-that of Stephen Sinclair--got the same treatment as the two
preceding it. He boiled the head, hands, and feet, and placed the rest in plastic bags. He
put one part in a cubbyhole in the bathroom and others went into the tea chest. Some of
the flesh and organs were flushed down the toilet.

Nilsen may also have dumped some large pieces, because a man found a bag ripped apart
near his garden, some distance away from Nilsens, which contained what looked like a rib
cage and a spinal column. He did not report it and it disappeared within a few days. It was
never tied to Nilsen.

There were five other tenants at 23 Cranley Gardens, but none of them knew Nilsen very
well. During the first week of February, one of them noticed that the downstairs toilet was
not flushing properly. He tried to clear the blockage with acid, to no avail. Other toilets
seemed to be functioning as poorly, but Nilsen denied that he was having any problems. A
plumber arrived to investigate, but his tools did not work. He called in a specialist.

Nilsen feared that his own activities might be at the heart of the problems downstairs, so
he stuffed the rest of Sinclairs body into plastic bags, along with the partially boiled head.
He locked the remains into the closet. He stopped flushing the toilet.

Two days later, in the evening, a company called Dyno-Rod arrived to examine the
blockage. Deciding it was underground, the technician, Michael Cattran, went into a
manhole by the side of the house.

He noticed a peculiar smell. Cattran was convinced it was from something dead. He
spotted sludge about eight inches thick on the floor of the sewer and found that it was
composed of thirty to forty pieces of flesh. It had come from the pipe leading from the
house. He reported his find to his superiors. The tenants gathered around him as he
phoned, including Nilsen, and he mentioned that they might have to call the police. First,
however, his company would do a better analysis by daylight. He then took Nilsen and one
of the other tenants back outside with him to see the pile of rotting flesh.

Nilsen returned at midnight to remove the particles of flesh and dumped them over the
fence. He thought about replacing them with pieces of chicken from the store, and then
pondered suicide. Instead he sat alone in his flat and drank, surrounded by the body parts
of three men.

However, the downstairs tenants had noticed his movements. When Cattran returned and
found the sewer cleaned out, the tenants told him their suspicions. From deep inside the
sewer, he pulled out one piece of foul-smelling meat and called the police.

At work on the day of February 9, 1983, Nilsen told a co-worker, If Im not in
tomorrow, Ill either be ill, dead, or in jail. They both laughed.

But Nilsen sensed something coming. When he stepped into the dark hallway to go to his
flat, he saw three men waiting for him.

Detective Chief Inspector Jay told him they had come about his drains. He told Nilsen that
human remains blocked them.

Nilsen exclaimed in dismay, and then asked, Where did it come from?

They pointed out that it could only have come from his own flat, and asked about the rest
of the body.

Nilsen gave up and said he would come to the station. He knew his rights and admitted
that he wanted to talk, and talk he did, as he unburdened himself in sickening detail. The
more he talked, the more the police realized that they had been given clues over the past
four years and had they acted differently, might have stopped the killing spree much
sooner.

A search of Nilsens closet uncovered several bags of male remains in various stages of
decomposition.

These were taken to a mortuary for examination. Nilsen told them to look in the tea chest
and under a drawer in the bathroom. He also pointed them toward his former apartment
where he had killed twelve or thirteen men. He admitted that there were seven others
whom he had tried to kill and had failed.

In the police station, Nilsen said, The victim is the dirty platter after the feast and the
washing up is an ordinary clinical task.

Nilsen began to spill out the details of his murders at once, despite being cautioned. His
formal questioning began on February 11th. It lasted over thirty hours, spread throughout
the week. Nilsen talked about his techniques and helped the police to identify parts of the
victims. He did not really require much prompting. The information flooded out, as if to
purge his conscience and get rid of every possible memory. He made no digressions and
did not plead for compassion. He also exhibited no remorse. He claimed later that his
professional training allowed him to feign calmness so the officials could take down the
information. He told them what they would need for conviction, but nothing personal.
Privately, he was afraid and deeply disturbed by what he had done.

Thanks to Nilsen, it was possible to find the various pieces of bodies and assemble them
into a person, as they did with Stephen Sinclair. His lower half was in a bag in the
bathroom. From there they could figure out which torso was his, along with the rest. With
a definite identity, they were able to charge Nilsen and hold him pending further
investigation.

Nilsen also accompanied police to 195 Melrose Avenue and pointed out where he had
buried things and made bonfires.

A lawyer was now appointed to Nilsen named Ronald T. Moss, who listened with the
police to Nilsens detailed confession. He was satisfied that Nilsen understood what was
happening.

When one police officer insisted that Nilsen was a predator, with malicious intent, Nilsen
responded, I seek company first, and hope everything will be all right.

Later he wrote his gruesome memoir for a young writer, Brian Masters, who turned
Nilsens ramblings into a book. As Masters says, Nilsen is the first murderer to present
an exhaustive archive measuring his own introspection. His prison journals are therefore a
unique document in the history of criminal homicide.

After the confession, Nilsen was removed to Brixton Prison to await his trial. He was
troubled by the reaction of the press that immediately followed his arrest. No one wants
to believe ever that I am just an ordinary man, he mused, come to an extraordinary and
overwhelming conclusion.

Many young men-and even a woman-came home with Nilsen and left unharmed, but a few
just barely managed to escape, and some of those had made police reports. A more
thorough investigation may have saved some lives. Nilsen claims that he made seven
attempts in which he was either fought off or later changed his mind. He recalls the names
of only four, but three of them testified against him at trial.

In October, 1979, Andrew Ho made a complaint. He said Nilsen had attacked him, but he
would not make a written statement or agree to attend court as a witness, so there was no
follow-up. Perhaps Ho did not want to admit to his own solicitation of Nilsen.

Almost a year later, Douglas Stewart said that Nilsen had attacked him. He had fallen
asleep in the armchair, waking to find his feet tied and Nilsen putting a tie around his neck.
He fought back, knocking Nilsen over, and Nilsen told him to leave. He called the police
to 195 Melrose Place on August 11, 1980, around 4:00 a.m., but they noticed that he had
been drinking. They knocked at the door and Nilsen seemed surprised by what they said.
They figured it to be a homosexual encounter, with both sides hiding some of the truth.
They made a report, but Stewart failed to follow-up as required.

Nilsen lived in his Cranley Gardens flat less than a year and a half, but killed three men. He
nearly killed several more.

On November 23rd, 1981-Nilsens 36th birthday--he took a nineteen-year-old gay student
named Paul Nobbs back home with him and they sat drinking together. Then they went to
bed and Nobbs woke up at 2:30 in the morning with a terrible headache. He woke again at
six and went into the kitchen. In the mirror there, he saw a deep red mark across his
throat. The white of his eyes were bloodshot and his face looked bruised. Nilsen
commented that he looked awful and advised him to see a doctor. That day, Nobbs visited
the university infirmary and learned that bruises on his throat indicated that someone had
tried to strangle him. He declined to report the incident.

The victim right after him was John Howlett, who did not escape.

For New Years Eve that year, neighbors of Nilsens were invited to his flat, but they had
plans. Besides, he appeared drunk, which disturbed them. They heard him leave the house
and return home with someone. Then they heard a commotion upstairs. Someone came
running down the steps, sobbing, and ran out the front door. That man was Toshimitsu
Ozawa. He told police that he thought Nilsen had intended to kill him. He had approached
Ozawa with a tie stretched between his hands. There was no follow-up investigation.

In April, 1982, Nilsen entertained a drag artist named Carl Stotter, 21. They drank
together and went to bed. He attempted to strangle Stotter, who woke up, unable to
breathe. He thought Nilsen was trying to help him, but that was not the case. Nilsen
carried him into the bathroom and placed him in a tub of water, submerging him several
times until Stotter begged for him to stop. Stotter then went under and stopped struggling.
Nilsen thought he was dead and carried him to the couch. Bleep jumped up and began to
lick Stotters face, aware that he was still alive. Nilsen then took him to bed and wrapped
himself around the young man until he regained consciousness. Nilsen told Stotter that he
had gotten his throat caught in the zipper of the sleeping bag that had covered him. Stotter
attributed the experience to a bad nightmare, despite getting a check-up and learning that
his condition was consistent with severe strangulation. He actually agreed to meet Nilsen
again, but did not keep the appointment. He also did not go to the police.

Albert Fish

Edward Budd was an enterprising eighteen-year-old. He was determined to make
something of himself and escape the desperate poverty of his parents. On May 25, 1928,
he put a classified ad in the Sunday edition of the New York World: "Young man, 18,
wishes position in country. Edward Budd, 406 West 15th Street." He was a strapping
young fellow who was eager to work and contribute to the well-being of his family.
Trapped in the dirty, stinking, crowded city in a miserable tenement with his father,
mother and four younger siblings, he longed to work in the country where the air was
fresh and clean.

On the following Monday, May 28, Edward's mother Delia, a huge mountain of a woman,
answered the door to an elderly man. He introduced himself as Frank Howard, a farmer
from Farmingdale, Long Island, who wanted to interview Edward about a job.

Delia told her five-year-old Beatrice to get her brother at his friend's apartment. The old
man beamed at her and gave her a nickel.

While they waited for Edward, Delia had a chance to get a better look at the old man. He
had a very kindly face, framed by gray hair and accented by a large droopy gray
moustache. He explained to Mrs. Budd that he had earned his living for decades as an
interior decorator in the city and then retired to a farm he had bought with his savings. He
had six children that he raised by himself since his wife had abandoned them all over a
decade ago.

With the help of his children, five farmhands and a Swedish cook, he had made the farm
into a successful one with several hundred chickens and a half-dozen dairy cows. Now,
one of his farmhands was moving on and he needed someone to replace him.

At that moment, Edward came in and met Mr. Howard, who remarked at the boy's size
and strength. Edward assured the old man he was a hard worker. Mr. Howard offered
him fifteen dollars a week, which Edward accepted joyfully. Howard even agreed to hire
Willie, Edward's closest friend.

Mr. Howard had to leave for an appointment and promised to come back on Saturday to
pick them up. The boys were thrilled and the Budds were happy that a good position with
the kindly old gentleman had come so quickly from Edward's modest ad.

____________________

Saturday, June 2, was the supposed to be the big day, but Mr. Howard didn't show up.
Instead they got a hand-written note from Mr. Howard saying that he had been delayed
and would call in the morning.

The next morning around eleven, Frank Howard came to the Budd's apartment bringing
gifts of strawberries and fresh creamy pot cheese. " These products come direct from my
farm," he explained.

Delia persuaded the old man to stay for lunch. For the first time, Albert Budd, Sr., had an
opportunity to talk with his son's new employer. It was the kind of talk that makes a
father very happy. Here was this kindly, polite old gentleman rapturously describing his
twenty acres of farmland, his friendly crew of farmhands and a simple, hearty country life.
He knew it was what his son wanted.

Albert, Sr., was a porter for the Equitable Life Assurance Company and had the air of a
man perpetually submissive. He was not very impressed with the way this Frank Howard
looked in his rumpled blue suit, but the old man was credible and genteel.

Once they sat down to lunch, the door opened and a
victim of albert fish. hannibal the cannibal lector was modeled after albert fish

lovely ten-year-old girl appeared. Gracie was humming a song. Her huge brown eyes and
dark brown hair contrasted with her very pale skin and pink lips. She would be a real
heart breaker someday.

Coming right from church, she still wore her Sunday clothes: white silk confirmation
dress, white silk stockings, and string of creamy pearls made her look older than her 10
years.

Frank Howard, like most men who came face to face with the radiant Gracie, couldn't take
his eyes off the beautiful girl. "Let's see how good a counter you are," he said as he
handed her a huge wad of bills to count. The impoverished Budds were flabbergasted by
the money the old man was carrying around with him.

"Ninety-two dollars and fifty cents," Gracie told him in short order.

"What a bright little girl," Mr. Howard said, giving her fifty cents to buy candy for herself
and her little sister Beatrice.

Howard said that he would come back later in the evening to pick up Edward and Willie,
but first he had to go to a birthday party that his sister was throwing for one of her
children. He gave the boys two dollars to go to the movies.

Just as he was about to leave, he invited Gracie to go with him to his niece's birthday
party. He would take good care of her and make sure that Gracie was home before nine
o'clock that evening.

Delia asked where Mr. Howard's sister lived and he replied that she lived in an apartment
house at Columbus and 137th Street.

Delia wasn't sure that she should let her go, but Albert, Sr. convinced her that it would be
good for Gracie. "Let the poor kid go. She don't see much good times."

So Delia helped Gracie on with her good coat and her gray hat with the streamers. She
followed Gracie and Mr. Howard outside and watched them disappear down the street.

That evening there was no word from Mr. Howard and no sign of Gracie. A terrible
sleepless night with no message from their beautiful daughter. The next morning, young
Edward was sent down to the police station to report his sister's disappearance.