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Gifted Trust
A Novel Excerpt in Progress
The forty-first prisoner to be executed by the state of Texas was put to death today. Jeffrey Michael Roberts, convicted of the double murder of 24-year-old Linda Casey of Quinley and her seven-year-old daughter Heather received a lethal injection. Roberts made a brief statement prior to his execution. - Houston Chronicle
"My only regret is that I didn’t get a chance to know them better." - Jeffrey Michael Roberts
The best time for me was just before the screaming stopped and their voices hit that pitch. Compared to the cracking heard as one steps hard on partially frozen ice or the moment a baseball shatters the glass of a window, it was then that I realized they were mine. When I heard that sweet … high … angelic … divine piercing … thoughts of what led me to that moment came with passing amusement. Those detailing my intentions were brought about with delight.
Why did I do it? I've never been approached with the question until now. Oh, from time to time it had been addressed if one considers whimpers and moans congruent to such an inquiry, but unless I found myself in a jovial mood I rarely responded to the rhetorical. Now the opportunity has presented itself for examination and I have decided to share my secrets with you. It is the hope of those on the other side of the glass that you might learn how someone of my nature conducts activities. As for why, the truth is that I did it because I loved it. Or should I say that I loved them. None of you will understand this, but the line between pain and pleasure runs parallel and sometimes the sectors undoubtedly cross. For the few hours I found myself alone with them I was the one in control. They understood this and fulfilled my needs. I'm sure after I'm finished sharing you’ll talk over the deeper aspects of the psychotic mind, but for now I find bliss in the simplicity of it all. As a connoisseur of the flesh I indulged my appetite liberally. Any attempt to seek endorsement would be time wasted, and though I'm willing to share the mechanics of my pleasure I do not expect your approval although your ability to comprehend should be increased.
My name is Jeffrey Michael Roberts. I’m sure you know that already, but there won’t be many opportunities for me to share it with others before the end. I’ve always found it interesting how the media refers to individuals such as myself by complete name. In elementary school teachers called me Jeff or Jeffrey Roberts. I believe certain names exert a connotation, which suggest a less than masculine host. Boys named Quentin, Bruce or Sandy seemed to get beaten up a lot. Jeffrey fell into this category and as soon as I left home it was dropped allowing me to become Michael Roberts. Now that I’m famous, in certain circles, it has become a habit of the press to use the whole damn thing. I suppose they want to make sure I’m not mistaken for a different Jeffrey Roberts. "No, not Jeffrey Roberts the ballplayer, Jeffrey Michael Roberts the guy who killed all those kids." I can see how there might be some confusion. "Not John Wayne the movie star, John Wayne Gacy the serial killer." I think it’s important to distinguish exactly, which Jeffrey Roberts I am, don’t you? I am the one who killed, not only all those kids, but also a few other people on the road to Huntsville. For the record, I didn’t intend on killing them all. I mean there were moments when the thought of letting a few of them go crossed my mind, but circumstances prevented me from doing so. Maybe if I had listened to those notions I might not be sitting here right now, of course killing them didn’t seem like a bad idea at the time. Thus I was convicted of murdering two of my guests. Did I do it? Well, I should say so. The last thing Linda Casey heard was, "She’s next." And as for Heather, well I’ll explain that event a little later.
I received more than adequate treatment after my arrest. The Harris County Sheriff’s Department didn’t want to screw this one up. The DA had failed to acquire a major conviction during the previous three years and with an election coming up I was a valuable commodity. They wanted nothing to go wrong with me. I had a nice cell, a good defense, a quick trial and fair sentence. In the state of Texas a death penalty is always followed by an appeal. I was rushed through this in time to become a minor issue during the gubernatorial debates. Since then I’ve been maintained here with only brief irritations. I keep hearing about petitions to convert my sentence. I appreciate the concern, but no one has asked me what I wanted. In the prison system, convicts doing time for kiddy crimes are not adored. One day I’ll find myself hosting a blanket party in the shower and it will be all over. The other bug up my ass was due to those asking me to write this. I considered turning down the request, but when I got a look at Ms. Watkins, the young lady transcribing my words, I decided it might be worth my time. In spite of what you might believe I still receive the conventional hard on from time to time.
I suppose it's necessary to share bits of my background with you. Who I was before who I am came into being. I understand the curiosity, but I too have those I wish to protect. Is it hard to believe someone like myself could care about others? The Bible tells us that the devil protects his own and I should be expected to do the same. There is no need for you to know whom I speak of here; I’m sure my secrets will not remain intact. I will share this though; I came from a less than happy family. My father spoke, my mother jumped and I protected her and a younger sister. That was until I saw no reason to remain. I left home when I was sixteen and haven't seen any of them since. This is all you need to know about my earlier life. If it's that important maybe you can postpone my exit date.
There were no certain places I went to meet them. One might compare it to fishing because factors determined where they'd be biting. I picked the location and trolled until they struck at the bait. Most fishermen know a line may be cast many times before making a substantial catch. Part of my success was the patience shown while searching for the right spot. Second to this was the ability to obtain a target without being caught. Mastering both was a must when seeking clientele. My methods and selection of victims changed from one locale to the next and these examples will only give you a superficial understanding. Even my own kind cannot be expected to comprehend that which is inside me. I wear many labels: child molester, rapist, murderer and/or monster. To me it is a game of semantics, words that attempt to define good and evil. I believe these to be concepts developed by the weak in order to justify human existence. We are what we are and if there is a God, he should be questioned as to why someone such as myself would be allowed to exist. Since he hasn’t been approached you are left with me to explain my actions. I’ve given you the only answer I have as to why I did these things and I leave the analyzing to those trained.
Over the past eight years I have taken in dozens of children, teenagers and young women. I see no need for redundancy and I will not tell you about them all. What I will share is one example, which may be used to demonstrate how I found certain victims. I have chosen a part of my life that exemplifies my being more than any other. I will also explain to you the mistakes leading to my eventual incarceration. If anything can be learned from this it would be how easy it was for me and that if given the opportunity I would do it again. Now shall we begin?
Choice hunting, of course, was found at the local elementary schools at the end of the day when they were waiting for their rides home. It was like feeding time at the zoo. Although I had to put more effort into claiming my reward than a caged animal who is handed his meal in a bowl. At times, the rush of adrenaline increased when a parent showed up unexpectedly and I watched worried eyes searching for their young as we drove away. Teachers weren't a problem. Most had no clue who belonged to who. Still, if I decided to go to a school it is usually because I had been working a particular child for some time. I wanted to know them. I wanted to know their parents and I wanted to know that no one would be arriving to pick them up. In each case though the initial meeting was always the same. I’d smile, I’d tell them my name and I’d be their friend. Children are so trusting when they believe you like them ... when you ... a grownup ... wants to pay attention to them. All that crap about not talking to A stranger went out the window. They wanted to see my puppy (kittens worked better with girls). They believed that I was a friend of their mother's (one who had offered to do her a favor because she had an appointment). I never gave them any reason to feel pressured because I had my happy face on and they knew I was a nice man.
After becoming their new friend getting them into my car was easy. The trick was to keep a safe distance from them for as long as possible. I didn't want to make them nervous. I would rather have lost one to a last minute change of heart than to be seen dragging them against their will. Unless I thought them incapable I let them get their own door. I also allowed them to fasten their safety belt by themselves, if they were able. I did not touch them yet. Once I started the car I nonchalantly asked them their address as to avoid driving in that direction and then I let them choose the radio station if they liked. Once we were driving I began feeling more comfortable with the situation, although the real challenge was yet to come. Sometimes they told me that I was going the wrong way and I would have to explain that I needed to stop at my apartment and get my wallet. I’d tell them that I had promised their mother I would stop and pick up some ice cream to take to their house (since I was already giving them a ride home). If that didn’t seem to calm the concern I would ask the little tike where their mother shops and I'd add that they could come into the store with me to pick the flavor. Maybe we could buy some syrup. That usually does the trick.
When we arrived at my place I usually told my new friend that I would be only a minute. Then I get out of the car and begin walking away. Taking about five to ten steps I’d stop and smile as I walked quickly back to the car. "Hey, would you like to see my kittens?" "Do you know anything about turtles?" Animals almost always worked. Immediately the child's eyes lit up and without any more of an invitation they unbuckled and hopped out of the car. Telling them I had a litter of puppies or kittens was followed with some sort of question as to whether their parents might let them have one. This usually brought a grin to both of our faces as we moved back up the sidewalk and to my door.
Once in my apartment speed was of the essence. Usually I made my move as I followed them into the other room (where the kittens were sleeping). Apartment walls are usually pretty thin so the important thing for me to do was to eliminate noise as quickly as possible. I smiled as I pointed toward the bedroom door and I followed closely behind. I liked to make a game of it. As soon as we entered the room and they didn't see any animals I’d tell them the litter was in the closet. Sometimes I might say that they were under the bed. If the kid hasn't figured it out yet I’d suggest that maybe they were hiding from us. All the while I’d watch their eyes because I was looking for that moment when I knew that they knew that there were no baby kittens for them to take home. That is when they are no longer smiling.
Kids bite. I've learned this from experience. They bite and they scream so I had to get
them corked as quickly as possible. One advantage I had, of course, was my size. I would try to avoid the larger of the species so I was able to grab them by the back of the head (or the hair if it's not cut too short) with one hand and by the arms with the other. Without saying a word I’d shove them quickly onto the bed. Under my pillow I kept a roll of duct tape, which I used to stifle any unwanted loud sounds. I then placed my head down next to theirs and told them to be quiet so I could inform them of the importance of their cooperation. I tell them that I knew where they live. I told them that I would hurt their mother. This almost always works. If it didn't and if they continued to fight me I had to decide, at that moment, if I want to end it. If I did then I used the pillow. If they obeyed me we continued. In cases like those I reached beneath my sheet for the rope I had hidden there and I begin to tie their hands and legs together. I had a walk-in closet in my apartment that is perfect for what I liked to do next.
Because they never weigh much I had no problem carrying them into it and hanging
them, by the ropes on their wrists, onto the coat hooks I placed near the ceiling.
From here on my methods differed. I might have used a coat hanger. I might have tried a curling iron. Sometimes I liked hearing things snap. Twisted little limbs bending back and forth back and forth ... the important thing is that I did my damnedest not to let them pass out. It's was an art trying to stretch it out once I begin; sometimes it can last for hours if I'm lucky. What I enjoyed most about working with this age of child was their over abundance of trust. No matter what I did they seemed to believe I wouldn’t cross that final line. They always held onto the hope that they’d survive up to the very end.
"Don’t it always seem to go that you don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone?" In case you don’t recognize it, that’s Joni Mitchell. Now that I have all this extra time I spend much of it sitting in my cell listening to music. I try to analyze everything I hear, but that’s the way I was before I got caught. I believe one of the reasons I lasted as long as I did was because I have such an analytical mind. Every time I made a catch I tried to understand as much as I could about them. I also think this trait led me to my profession as a writer. Since selling my first article to Texas Highways back when I was a student at A & M this gift was apparent to me. The problem with being so talented and knowing it is that one starts feeling infallible. After doing my deeds for eight years I thought I couldn’t make a mistake; the notion of getting caught was not one I considered. As you can see, I was wrong. Still, not trying to make excuses I want to say that my capture was something out of the ordinary.
As you know, my downfall came at the hands of the Casey girls. That is to say Linda and Heather, neither who survived to know what they had a hand in doing. The funny thing is that their abduction took place at the same place I picked up Misty and Beth Ann. It was the same park and the same playground, which I had frequented many times since discovering it. The Casey heist took place seven and a half years after killing my first pair at that same locale.
I said near the beginning that I wouldn’t be redundant and in keeping my promise I see no reason to tell you the blow by blow activities leading to getting Linda and Heather into my apartment. The events weren’t exactly the same because I had made friends with the mother weeks before their end. Also I went with both of them to their apartment under the guise of wanting to conduct an interview for Red Book. I told Linda I was doing an article on single parenting and she was more than happy to oblige. Shortly into our session I made my move when I offered a sleep inducing concoction to the ice tea I helped them make. Everything went as planned until Linda woke up in time to watch me taping Heather’s feet. Although she was quite secured I failed to gage her ability to untie knots. I had to stop what I was doing with the little girl and hurry over to silence the mother. While the seven-year-old lay on the dining room floor watching I proceeded to take the older woman and then upon finishing her I returned to calm the young one.
That was when it happened. Heather had fought me much harder than her mother and I was getting a bit perturbed that she wouldn’t settle down. I tried convincing her that Linda was just sleeping and I’d be letting both of them go shortly, but the sight of her half naked mother dying ten feet away probably made my lies more difficult to believe. I decided that the only way to quiet Heather down was to beat her into submission. I sat on top of her holding her arms beneath my knees and proceeded to strike her face with my open hand when it happened. With my hand ricocheting back and forth I watched Heather’s bloody face becoming barely recognizable and just before striking the final blow she started mumbling something.
"Just be good, Jeffrey. Just be good."
Upon hearing this I stopped knowing that something wasn’t right. How did she know my name? I had introduced myself as Mike Roberts so how did she know my name was Jeffrey? Upon hearing this I reacted by twisting her neck and running out of the apartment. By the time I had realized the dangers of my speedy escape it was to late. Linda’s landlady arrived to find both bodies and a clipboard with yellow legal paper, which I had used for the mock interview. That clipboard eventually became exhibit A and I was finished.
Well, that’s my story; I hope it was worth your time. I know I left a lot of questions unanswered, but I’m still trying to figure out how Heather knew so much. Maybe I’ll figure it out before the end. Anyway, you should have a good idea of how things went down.
John P. Allen is an unpublished writer working as a teacher's assistant for a school district north of Houston, Texas.
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