J. T. Hunter & Rj Parker Publishing - The Vampire Next Door: The True Story of the Vampire Rapist

The Vampire Next Door:

The True Story

of the

Vampire Rapist

ISBN-13: 978-1500909499

ISBN-10: 1500909491

United States of America

Authored by:

J.T. Hunter

Copyright 2014 by

RJ PARKER PUBLISHING, INC

Edited by: Hartwell Editing

Cover design by: Jacqueline Cross

This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to the author and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of the author. All rights reserved. No parts of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without prior written authorization from RJ Parker Publishing, Inc. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of a copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by fines and federal imprisonment.

Acknowledgments

Let the truth be known: nothing is created alone.

For his extensive assistance during the research phase of this novel, many thanks go to Robert Leatherow. This book would not be what it is without Bobs considerable help.

Thanks to Commander Doug Waller of the Brevard County Sheriffs Office for his courtesy in allowing me access to case files and evidence.

My deepest appreciation to those named in this book (some under fictitious names) who were willing to share their memories of the Vampire Rapist case, including Lisa Baker, George Hurley, Joe Mitchell, and Tom Fair, who provided insightful perspectives on relevant events.

Thanks to my dad for first introducing me to the case of the Vampire Rapist and sparking a two-year journey of many challenges, hurdles, and rewards. And much thanks to my mom for her unwavering support.

Thanks also to my favorite sister for her review and suggestions in connection with an earlier draft of the novel.

Of course, I owe much thanks and appreciation to my publisher and advisor, RJ Parker, who helped this book come to fruition and offered many valuable suggestions along the way.

Deb Hartwell deserves big kudos as well for seeing what I missed and for making the editing phase of this novel a pleasant process.

And last, but not least, many, many thank yous to my lovely wife for her ideas while reviewing the various incarnations of this account of the Vampire Rapist, and for allowing me to devote the necessary time to complete what became, at times, an all-consuming passion.

Preface

This is a work of non-fiction. The story that follows was pulled together from extensive interviews of the people who lived it, court filings and transcripts, police files, prison records, news articles, FBI records, and letters and other documents prepared by the individuals involved in the relevant events. Nonetheless, as most historians will attest, any work attempting to piece together the past must overcome the lack of direct evidence that inevitably leaves holes in the puzzle. As the author Julian Barnes observed, [h]istory is that certainty produced at the point where the imperfections of memory meet the inadequacies of documentation. In other words, not everything that occurred in the past was recorded or remembered in reliable detail. By necessity, then, some parts of this story were produced by using the best available evidence of how those events unfolded. Most prominent in this regard is the fact that, other than the fortunate young woman who managed to escape from a living nightmare, no other victims of the Vampire Rapist survived to tell their tale. Out of respect for her request for privacy, the sole survivors name has been changed, as have the names of other individuals who agreed to speak with the author on the condition that their real names not be used.

The Dead

Under the pure light of the stars

The dead sleep

Wrapped about in a silence unutterable

The ages come and go, like a tale that is told

Time stretches out to the golden unbarred gate

Of eternity,

But the dead sleep on, sleep on.

J.A. Edgerton

PART ONE:

THE MISSING AND THE DEAD

Chapter 1: Hungry like the wolf...

The hunger was eternal, and once again, the hunger had returned. Just as it always had, just as it always would. It was a beast that could never be banished, a shadowy creature that hounded him and demanded gratification. He could not escape it and he knew that it would never relent. There was only one way to satisfy it. He had to hunt again.

The hunger had begun as an unexplainable emptiness, an indescribable yearning for something more. It had been with him for as long as he could remember, his constant companion since childhood, and as he grew the hunger grew with him. It came to him now as an irresistible need to strangle, to constrict the carotid arteries, block off the jugular veins, or slowly compress the windpipe until his victims passed out from lack of oxygen to the brain. It excited him to see the panic in their eyes as their faces turned alternating shades of purple and blue. It invigorated him to see the pupils of their eyes as they faded away, as the very spark of life, that inner glint illuminating the window to the soul, flickered and began to fade, until at last the eye went dim and dull. Watching a young woman gasping desperately for breath gave him an intense sexual high, but it was more than a chemical cocktail of oxytocin and endorphins that drove him to kill. While there was a sexual component to the addiction, the hunger went deeper than that. The power and control he felt was what provided an unparalleled sense of pleasure, a state of ecstasy far exceeding any orgasm.

He discovered early on that he only felt truly alive when watching another human being die. The only times he truly lived were those all-too transitory moments when he killed. Like some exiled demon from the underworld, he celebrated life in the shadow of its obliteration. Each victim served as a sacrificial lamb, temporarily pacifying the dark creature that so often controlled him.

He did not enjoy the act of killing in and of itself. What he needed went beyond that. It was the feeling of total control, the knowledge that he had the power to grant life swiftly or steal it away, that he savored. He had a pathological need to exercise absolute power over his victims by physically possessing them, much like he might possess a motorcycle or car. To satisfy his need, his victims were systematically stripped of their humanity and reduced to objects. They were no longer human beings. They were merely toys for his amusement.

----

The first time he killed was almost an accident. He had become so aroused and excited by the fear in the womans eyes as she struggled for air that he squeezed too hard for too long. She had fallen unconscious before during prior sexual forays, but she had always revived. This time, however, she never came back.

It was a simple procedure really. So simple, but so deadly. Ten to twenty seconds in a choke hold compressing the carotid artery worked every time. But this time he could not stop himself. The usual ten to twenty seconds of pressure had surged past a minute, and still he did not stop. It was if some unseen force had taken control of his mind and taken command of his body. He was no longer aware of the passage of time. He had seen the warning signs as the carbon dioxide levels in her blood rapidly escalated to the point of hypercarbia. He felt her pulse quicken as her blood pressure surged higher, but he kept squeezing even when the convulsions began, triggered by her unoxygenated and hypercarbic brain. He looked on excitedly as her bodys unconscious efforts to breathe became weaker, as her lungs feeble attempts to inhale slowly faded away. Then her heartbeat became increasingly irregular, steadily decreasing in force and frequency, continually slowing until it finally stopped.