A Father's Story by Lionel Dahmer

Author:Lionel Dahmer [Dahmer, Lionel]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781635615630
Publisher: Echo Point Books & Media, LLC
Published: 2021-08-17T05:00:00+00:00

At the end of February 1990, I learned that Jeff was going to be released early from the Milwaukee County House of Correction, having served only ten months of his twelve-month sentence. He would be on probation for the next few years, but other than occasional visits to his probation officer, Jeff would be completely free.

Jeff was freed the following month. He moved back into my mother's house in West Allis, but there was no question that he could remain there indefinitely. She was old and increasingly frail, so it was necessary for Jeff to find a place of his own.

He found it in the Oxford Apartments on North Twenty-fifth Street. His apartment number was 213, and it was duly approved by Jeff's probation officer.

During the Thanksgiving holiday of 1990, Shari and I visited Jeff's new apartment. We found it exceedingly neat and orderly. It was furnished sparsely, a beige couch and chair supplied by the landlord. The kitchen and living room were combined, and Jeff proudly opened the refrigerator door to display how clean it was inside. The only thing odd about the kitchen was that he had bought a freezer.

"Why'd you buy that?” I asked.

"To save money,” Jeff answered. "When there's a sale, I can stock up on things.”

If anything, this struck me as a sensible idea, and I continued on my tour.

A short corridor led to the bathroom and bedroom, and it was cut off from the living room by a sliding door. Jeff had put a lock on that door, as if to seal it off completely.

"Why the lock?” I asked.

"Just to make it safer,” Jeff answered. "Against burglars."

We all walked through the corridor and into the bedroom. There were a couple of black floor lamps, a television, and a computer.

"It looks good, Jeff," I said.

He smiled proudly.

On the way back to the living room, Shari stepped into the bathroom and pulled back the shower curtain. Two black towels hung neatly over a spotless bathtub.

A month later, during the Christmas holidays, I returned to Jeff's apartment a second time. Dave had come to West Allis with me this time, and I wanted to show him Jeff's apartment. Jeff walked us both through the apartment, and it appeared more or less unchanged from my first visit, except for the elaborate security system he'd set up for his protection. There was a camera mounted above the door and a host of alarms which, Jeff said, would make an "earth-shattering" sound should someone break into the apartment.

"You've got a lot of security," I told him.

He seemed to cast about for an explanation. "Well," he said finally, "there are a lot of robberies around here, and I don't want anyone to break in."

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