" was asking me questions about my dad, about dates and things, and I was.trying to almost alibi my father. 1 special detailing the murderer's reign of terror. "I was gripping the wall next to my stove, was spinning, saying, 'I think I'm going to pass out,'" she recalled to ABC News' 20/20 for their Feb. 25, 2005 to inform her that they'd used her own DNA to confirm their suspicions. He'd traveled to the Detroit-area apartment she shared with her husband the afternoon of Feb. The psychopath who dubbed himself BTK-an acronym depicting his preferred method of murder: Bind, Torture, Kill-couldn't possibly be the same man who allowed her to dance on his stocking-covered feet as a child and served as the president of his church and a Boy Scout troop leader.Īnd yet not nine months after she began studying up on the case that had terrorized her hometown for some three decades she found herself face-to-face with an FBI agent.
Never once did she imagine he was her father. Still, she assumed, as she'd later relay to 20/20 cameras that the guy was just some law-breaking miscreant, "a loner." She was taken aback that something like this was happening in the background of her largely idyllic childhood. Though she'd grown up in the midwestern town at the time, this was the first she'd heard of the unsolved mystery. The development turned the cold case into a massive manhunt and left Kerri Rawson thoroughly intrigued. There was much to discuss, what with his decision to claim responsibility for another murder, and resume his old ploy of taunting both the media and police alike with clues on how he'd gotten away with his crime spree. For months local outlets were publishing stories that the ruthless killer had re-emerged after decades of silence.
His intention was to spark people's memories and it worked. One line in the article-a mention that the legacy of the killer had long been forgotten-apparently angered the murderer so much that he decided to send a letter, enclosing the photo of one of his victims.
It had been more than 30 years since a still-unknown serial killer had ended the lives of Kansas couple Joseph Otero and Julie Otero and their children Josie, 11, and Joey, 9, in January of 1974 and her hometown newspaper, the Wichita Eagle, had decided to commemorate their loss with a story. Davis in 1991.In the summer of 2004, a Michigan-based substitute teacher was scrolling through when an intriguing story caught her eye. Rader did not talk about why he had taunted law enforcement with letters and phone calls - or why he was able to stop killing after the murder of Delores E. "It's still beyond my comprehension that a human being is capable of something like that, and then to talk about it so coldly, so matter-of-factly, with no flinching and no emotion," said Paul Carlstedt, who served with Rader in the leadership of Christ Lutheran Church. Yet the details of Rader's double-life left them appalled and bewildered. They were relieved to know that BTK would never kill again. Many in Wichita said they were glad to be spared the expense and uncertainty of a trial. The 45-minute confession - presented with no trace of remorse - was met yesterday with a mixture of relief and revulsion.
"All these incidents occurred because you wanted to satisfy a sexual fantasy, is that true?" Waller asked. Rader told the judge he had no history of mental illness his lawyers said they had considered an insanity defense, but decided they had no grounds.