The Last Victim: A True-Life Journey Into the Mind of the Serial Killer by Jason Moss & Jeffrey Kottler

Author:Jason Moss & Jeffrey Kottler [Moss, Jason & Kottler, Jeffrey]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: TRU002000, True Crime
ISBN: 0446608270
Amazon: B000FA5SEI
Publisher: Grand Central Publishing
Published: 1999-01-02T00:00:00+00:00

Dear Jeff,

My name is Jason Moss, and I’m writing you this letter because it’s very late at night where I am, and I’m taking care of my sick grandmother. She’s been throwing up all night and I’m afraid she’s going to die. If she dies, I’ll be all alone.

Both of my parents were killed in a car crash last year, and I now have to live with my grandmother. I feel very alone and scared, and sometimes I just want to die. I feel like I live in a world all alone, far from everyone. I’ve heard about the things they say you’ve done, and I understand how you feel not wanting to be alone, and all. I feel like I need a strong man in my life, and sometimes I just think about holding one of my friends, giving him a hug, and never letting go. Maybe we can be friends. Is there anything you need there in prison? Is there anything I can do for you like sending some magazines? My address is: Jason Moss, 1234 My Place, Henderson, NV 89014. I’d really appreciate hearing from you. Knowing that there is someone out there who cares might make living a little easier. Have a happy new year.

Your friend,

Jason Moss

I thought my story would sound very familiar to Dahmer. Just as he had felt when growing up, I appeared to be very alone, depressed, and scared. I hoped that by making him think my parents were both killed in a car crash, he’d believe there was a possibility I could empathize with his own loneliness.

Writing him my first letter, I couldn’t help feeling there was some truth to the things I told him. At times, I did feel like I was all alone in the world. Even though I had a family that was mostly supportive, a girlfriend I was fond of, and a number of friends I’d known since junior high school, I still felt different and alienated sometimes. Of course, this was because I was different. Neither my friends nor my family could relate to my ambition—or my capacity for tunnel vision. There were very few people, including Jenn, who really understood me. Hence, it wasn’t that difficult to write even a fictitious letter like this with some conviction.

In spite of the elation I was feeling over the solid preparation that went into writing Dahmer, there was a spillover that was taking its toll on me emotionally. Though I didn’t fully realize it at the time, obsessively reading about necrophilia and cannibalism was beyond the limits of what I could handle. It can’t be very good for even a trained psychologist or detective to think about murder all the time, to empathize both with the perpetrators of the most horrible crimes ever committed and with their victims. Just imagine what such reflection can do to a first-year college student whose experience of the world has been confined to one metropolitan area.

My obsession was isolating me further. More and more often, I began avoiding my friends.

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