I don’t care if I live or die. Go ahead and kill me.
Catalog
Jeffrey Dahmer
Jeffrey Lionel Dahmer (May 21, 1960 – November 28, 1994), also known as the Milwaukee Cannibal, was an American serial killer and sex offender, who committed the rape, murder, and dismemberment of seventeen men and boys between 1978 and 1991. Many of his later murders involved necrophilia, cannibalism, and the permanent preservation of body parts—typically all or part of the skeletal structure. Although diagnosed with borderline personality disorder, schizotypal personality disorder, and a psychotic disorder, Dahmer was found to be legally sane at his trial. Convicted of fifteen of the sixteen murders he had committed in Wisconsin, Dahmer was sentenced to fifteen terms of life imprisonment on February 15, 1992. He was later sentenced to a sixteenth term of life imprisonment for an additional homicide committed in Ohio in 1978. On November 28, 1994, Dahmer was beaten to death by Christopher Scarver, a fellow inmate at the Columbia Correctional Institution. 2Early life 3Early childhood Jeffrey Dahmer was born on May 21, 1960 in West Allis, Wisconsin, the first of two sons born to Joyce Annette (née Flint) and Lionel Herbert Dahmer. Dahmer's mother worked as a teletype machine instructor, whereas his father was a student at Marquette University, working towards a degree in chemistry. His father was of German ancestry, and his mother was of Welsh ancestry. Although Dahmer was doted upon as an infant and toddler by both parents, his mother was known to be tense, greedy for attention, and argumentative with both her husband and her neighbor
I had these obsessive desires and thoughts wanting to control them [victims], to–I don't know how to put it–possess them permanently.
To this day I don't know what started it [the murders]. The person to blame is sitting right across from you. It's the only person. Not parents, not society, not pornography. I mean, those are just excuses.
I can't think of anything that would have stopped me.
There are still times when I still do have those old compulsions.
It's a process, it doesn't happen overnight, when you depersonalize another person and view them as just an object. An object for pleasure and not a living breathing human being. It seems to make it easier to do things you shouldn't do.
I tried to keep the person alive by inducing a zombie-like state by injecting first a dilute acid solution into their brain, or hot water. It never did completely work.
I even went so far as planning on setting up an altar with 10 different skulls and skeletons. It was my way of remembering their appearance, their physical beauty. I also wanted to keep...if I couldn't keep them there with me whole, I at least could keep their skeletons.
It was a way of making me feel that they were a part of me.
I wanted to keep something of the person with me. I kept the mummified head and skull of one of the victims in a carrying case in my locker at work.
As the years went by, and the compulsion became stronger and the obsession more intense, it became the main focus of my life.
The first killing was not planned. I had had fantasies about picking up a hitchhiker and taking him back to the house and having complete control and dominance over him.
I always knew that it was wrong after the first killing.
The killing was a means to an end. That was the least satisfactory part. I didn't enjoy doing that. That's why I tried to create living zombies with uric acid in the drill [to the head], but it never worked. No, the killing was not the objective. I just wanted to have the person under my complete…
If a person doesn’t think there is a God to be accountable to, then—then what's the point of trying to modify your behavior to keep it within acceptable ranges? That's how I thought anyway. I always believed the theory of evolution as truth, that we all just came from the slime. When we, when we…
Your Honor, It is over now. This has never been a case of trying to get free. I didn’t ever want freedom. Frankly, I wanted death for myself. This was a case to tell the world that I did what I did, but not for reasons of hate. I hated no one. I knew I was sick or evil or both. Now I believe I was…
Took the head, washed it off, put it on the bathroom floor, masturbated and all that, then put the head back down with the rest of the bags. Next morning we had a large buried drainage pipe, about ten feet long put the bags in there, smash the front of it down, and leave it there for about two and a…
And then I cut the arm off. Cut each piece. Bagged each piece. Triple-bagged it in large plastic trash bags. Put them in the back of the car. Then I'm driving to drop the evidence off a ravine, ten miles from my house. Did that at three o'clock in the morning. Halfway there, I'm at a deserted…
So later that night I take the body to the crawl space. And I'm down there and I can't get any sleep that night, so I go back up to the house. The next day, I have to figure out a way to dispose of the evidence. Buy a knife, a hunting knife. Go back the next night, slit the belly open, and…