Why I Wrote The Boston Stranglers

Susan KellyBy

Susan Kelly

Well, as the man said when they asked him why he climbed Mount Everest: “Because it was there.”

That answer might require some back story. Longer ago than I want to recall—oh, okay, it was 1981—I was embarking on my third attempt to write a mystery novel. (The less said about the first two attempts, the better, I assure you.) I wanted to know about investigative work as it is done by actual police detectives. So I made an appointment to talk to a lieutenant of detectives in the Cambridge Police Department. I remember the day itself well; it was one of those typical Massachusetts November afternoons when the sky looks like a dirty old mattress.

When I got to the station, I had to wait; the lieutenant was interviewing a witness to a crime. So I cooled my heels in the anteroom to the chief’s office. Sitting there with me were two detectives, socializing with the chief’s secretary, very genial white-haired men who introduced themselves to me as “the two Billies.” (Each had the first name of William.) They asked me what I was doing here in the police station. I explained that I was researching police procedure.

They told me that they’d been detectives for thirty years and had some great stories. I assured them that I was very, very eager to hear anything they wanted to tell me.

I added, then, that I was particularly interested in serial killers.

“Like Ted Bundy,” I said.

The two Billies looked at each other with odd little grins. Then one of them asked me, “Who do you think the Boston Strangler was?”

The question was a little startling, because I thought it had been long since settled. “Albert DeSalvo.”

Both Billies laughed.

“Albert DeSalvo was the Boston Strangler like my dog was the Boston Strangler,” one of them said.

Oh, my.

I asked them to tell me about it. And they did.

Well, the upshot of this conversation was that I kept on interviewing people involved, one way or another, in law enforcement: cops, district attorneys, defense lawyers, etc. And always, the subject of The Boston Strangler arose. And inevitably: Not one of these people thought DeSalvo was the guilty party.

It was one of the strangest disconnects I’ve ever experienced: A received truth was being roundly denied by those people in the best position to know the facts of the matter.

Well, anyway, I filed all this away, and went on to write novels, and my novels got published. But the Strangler story always stayed in the back of my mind. And so, in 1992, I decided to do something about it. I did the research, did the interviewing, and wrote the book. It was a lot of work, but it was a lot of fun.

(Maybe it wasn’t work. I love writing. It makes me feel really alive. Nothing involved in the process is tiresome to me.)

And…doing the book accorded me a rare privilege: that of revising a small piece of history. I read every single one of the case files regarding the murders that took place between June 1962 and January 1964, and my position on the case remains the same today. These murders were not serial killings, although a quite reasonable case can be made that the first four victims—older white women—might have been murdered by the same person.

Now I realize that some of you—with absolute justification—will point to the DNA testing done in the summer of 2013 on a blanket found in the apartment of Mary Sullivan, the final Strangler victim. It indicated that DeSalvo’s DNA had been found on the blanket. And I would understand perfectly if you concluded that this proved DeSalvo’s guilt of, at least, the Sullivan murder.

But…there were two samples of DNA found on Sullivan’s body—one in the pubic area–that did not match DeSalvo’s. One of them matched the DNA of the original prime suspect in her murder, who was not DeSalvo. The state declined to test these samples.

I should also add that DeSalvo’s DNA was not found on the blanket during any previous testing. I should further add that there were plenty of other reasons to assume that the prime suspect was guilty, such as the fact that he flunked two lie detector tests.

I believe that DNA is an incredibly useful tool in crime investigation. It is unique to an individual, and therefore irrefutable as a means of identification. If you find the DNA of a suspect in the vagina of a rape/murder victim, and under her fingernails from shreds of his skin that accumulated there as she tried to fight off her assailant, and on her face or anywhere else that his saliva or sweat or mucus or semen may have dripped…well, that’s very inculpatory. But the presence of DNA at a crime scene does not necessarily indicate guilt, particularly if it’s not on the victim. Let me tell you why.

We drop our DNA, in a variety of ways, everywhere we go. You’ve just returned from a trip to the grocery store. Your DNA is on anything you touched there, including that head of Romaine you returned to the produce bin because it didn’t look quite fresh enough. It’s on that bottle of ketchup you put back on the shelf because you just remembered you have an unopened bottle of ketchup in the cupboard at home. It’s on the money or credit card you handed the cashier at the check-out counter. And your DNA is all over the cart you used.

In the course of the day, did you go to your dentist? Your doctor? Your lawyer? Your DNA is all over their waiting rooms, consultation rooms, or examination rooms. If you went to the public library, you left it in their stacks.

Okay. Suppose you visited a friend and had coffee or a drink with him or her. Your DNA would be on the cup or glass you used, on the chair or sofa where you sat, in the bathroom if you used the sink, toilet, tub, or shower…it would be on anything you touched. And so would your fingerprints, for that matter.

Now suppose—horrific thought—your friend is murdered shortly after you leave his or her house or apartment. Your DNA is all over the place. It may also be on your friend’s body, if you hugged or kissed or shook hands. Suppose you and your friend engaged in some form of sexual activity. You have left your DNA all over your partner’s body, and on the bed, if you used the bed. Does that mean you’re the murderer? Of course it doesn’t. Sure, you might be. But more is required to prove your guilt. And that is exactly as it should be.

Well, I am not going to try your patience with a long list of reasons why Albert DeSalvo probably didn’t kill Mary Sullivan, nor anyone else. If you like, you can read the book (The Boston Stranglers). Or the article I wrote and posted on my Amazon author page (amzn.to./18wHstx; just type that address into your browser exactly as I’ve written it). Get back to me with any questions.

The Strangler case is fascinating for a lot of reasons. It became a social and cultural phenomenon, generated in large part by press hysteria. Boston had more newspapers then than it does now, and they were all competing for the same audience. (Sample headline from the time: PHANTOM FIEND STRIKES AGAIN.) The case also became a political football, and an opportunity for various people to make names for themselves. It was the perfect venue for showboaters. And, as the late Robert B. Parker once observed, for psychics and dancing chickens as well. In all this, the victims became…just bodies. They deserved better than that.

I am not an apologist for Albert DeSalvo. He wasn’t a good guy; he was a serial sex offender. But he wasn’t a serial killer.

So here’s the thing: We are all innocent until proven guilty beyond a reasonable doubt.

BRAINDROPS

are falling from my head…

By

Zachary Klein

zachWe’re approaching summer’s dog days and I’m feeling pretty mellow, so deciding what to write this week has been difficult. It’s always easier for me if I have a mad on and Germany’s attitude toward Greece jumps to mind. Or how ‘bout them sorry Sox? But mellow is rare, so I might as well see where it takes me.

We recently had a great time at Fenway Park. It was a beautiful night and, as I looked around the field, I realized how impressive a renovation had been done by Janet Marie Smith, the architect of Baltimore’s Camden Yards. Despite adding a significant number of seats and signage to the oldest field in baseball (1912), Ms. Smith somehow made the relic a much more welcoming place while keeping its traditional feel and atmosphere. (Not the ticket prices, though, which are the highest on average in Major League Baseball.) It was a fun night even with the Sox loss–to be expected this season.

And speaking of renovations, despite my writing partner, Susan’s send up of HOUSE HUNTERS in last week’s column, Sue (my wife) and I are gearing up for our own major league kitchen rebuild, replete with wall removals, open floor plan (NOT!), and granite vomitori—whoa—make that countertops. Reconstruction begins sometime in August and I’m fervently hoping that it takes a little less time and is much more successful than our Country’s. Not gonna bet on it though.

Ahh, betting. The Casino War still rages on in Boston. Although voted FOR by almost 60% and supported by rejecting another referendum which tried to overturn the first, a number of politicians are still trying judicial end runs–Including our mayor.

I understand the issues people have with gambling and have some mixed feelings myself. But voters, tired of seeing millions and millions of dollars flow to Connecticut’s casinos, spoke loudly and clearly TWICE. My biggest regret is that Boston won’t allow a den of inequity on one of the harbor islands. And not because The Donald is a bidding developer because he isn’t.catTrumpNo surprise, really. The “Athens of the East” clings to its puritanical ancestry despite our current liberal reputation. Clings to many anomalies. Just ask anyone of Color or eyeball the vast sea of White faces while catching a game at Fenway.

Not sure why, but somehow all that White makes me think of Greece. (I tried not to. Really.) Excuse me, but what two-faced crazy is running around in Germany’s head?

“London School of Economics and Political Science Professor of Economic History Albrecht Ritschl conducted research into how Germany was able to pay off its debts after the two World Wars. In particular, his re-interpretation of the scale of financial payments to, and debt forgiveness for Germany after World War II shed new light on the approach that modern-day Germany should take towards debt-ridden countries such as Greece. Ritschl looked in detail at the financial assistance that was paid to Germany after the war under the Marshall Plan, in which the US gave $17 billion – around $160 billion in today’s values – in economic support to help rebuild European economies. He showed that while the transfers were tiny, the cancellation of debts was worth as much as four times the country’s entire economic output in 1950 and laid the foundation for Germany’s fast post-war recovery.”

It seems pretty obvious the terms of Greece’s “bailout” will crush the poor and working people of that country—but fuck ‘em. Let’s make sure the greed-heads get the interest owed. Every goddam Euro.

And now you got me started. What’s with the response to the Iranian deal? This is a no-brainer but once again the human no-brainers are running their mouths. If Reagan’s administration had pulled this off, all the pols would be kissing his ass. Hell, Nixon cut a deal with China when Mao was still alive! Since it’s Obama’s administration though, both Democrats and Republicans are talking stupid. Batshit racists, whether they know it or not.

Sorry about that. I said no rants….

especially since this has been a fine week. Belated birthday dinner with a good friend, a rooftop dinner with other good friends, and a visit to the Boston’s Greenway’s amazing new installation by Janet Echelman, an aerial shape and color shifting translucent public art sculpture.Aerial

Janet-Echelman-Netting-sculpture

 

 

 

 

tumblr_nopdc9G41s1s5qhggo8_500(For more information about Ms. Echelman’s wonderful piece, including a time-lapse video of the installation check out http://www.echelman.com/project/boston-greenway/. You won’t be sorry.)

Thank you Big Dig for stitching my city back together and creating space near the ocean for beauty.

It never ceases to amaze me how little public art is offered in our cities compared to say, Mexico or France. But hey, that’s a topic for another week.

Told you I was feeling mellow.

 

The mind is its own place, and in itself can make a heaven of hell, a hell of heaven. ~ John Milton

House Hunters

Susan Kelly

By

Susan Kelly

Several years ago, whenever I was in need of a laugh, I’d tune into the madly popular HGTV show House Hunters. In case you’re not familiar with it, House Hunters is a reality show that purports to follow individuals, couples, or families on their quest to acquire the perfect accommodation. Although the program’s longest-running host, Suzanne Whang, is a stand-up comic, I’m not sure whether the show was intended to be funny. It sure turned out that way.

A lot of the humor of the show derives from the fact that it showcases the screaming bad taste of a certain segment of the American public, or at least that segment of the American public that enjoys exposing itself on reality shows. One episode I remember vividly featured a young couple searching for their dream house. The real estate agent showed them a perfectly preserved Victorian/Craftsman. This place was stunning. The woodwork was to die for: built-in bookshelves, built-in hutches and china cabinets, wainscoting, beautifully carved mantels on the fireplaces…you get the picture. I’d settle for the oak floors alone.

The wife looked around at the hutches and bookcases, made a face, and said, “All this old stuff has to go.”

I’m pretty sure I screamed.

Another of my favorite episodes was the one starring a family looking for a nice big house in the suburbs. Not an unreasonable choice. Certainly it’s a choice that millions of people have made, and lived happily ever after having made it. But this particular hunting party was obsessed with having a huge kitchen. I mean a kitchen the size of a basketball court. Every other consideration appeared to be secondary. Very secondary. I began to wonder if they were undercover location scouts for Iron Chef.

Well, no. It turned out they wanted a colossal kitchen so that all their relatives and friends could assemble in it with them while Mom and Dad were preparing whatever meal was to be served to the merrymakers.

(Wanting to have hordes of people underfoot while you’re trying to make dinner is, by the way, an ongoing obsession with a lot of House Hunter participants. Beats me why. I don’t know about you, but the absolute last thing I want when I’m trying to baste a turkey, whisk a sauce, sauté a veal scallop, broil salmon, or mash potatoes is twenty-six people breathing down the back of my neck.)

Well, anyway, the family did find and buy a house with a huge kitchen, cooing about all the entertaining they were going to do, and rhapsodizing about how Mom and Dad wouldn’t have to miss any of the fun because all the guests would be in the kitchen with them while Mom and Dad were cooking.

The final scene of every House Hunters episode I’ve seen shows the Hunters du jour happily ensconced in their new abode. This episode was no different. The camera panned over a party scene in the enormous kitchen, guests happily milling around the linoleum-laiden acreage. (No, basketball hoops hadn’t been erected at either end of the room. Nor hockey goals. Though there was a flat screen tv the size of Rhode Island.) Then the camera zoomed in on the food preparation area.

On the counter were…four gallons of jug wine and six pizza boxes.

Maybe this is what “cooking for family and friends” means in the new millennium: ordering take-out to feed the multitudes. There’s something almost New Testament about it.

But I did learn something from watching House Hunters. This is the abiding lesson:

It is impossible to live decently in a house or condo lacking a) an open floor plan, b) a kitchen the size of Madison Square Garden, c) a “spa tub” in the bathroom of the “master suite,” d) double sinks in the bathroom of the “master suite,” e) a walk-in closet in the “master suite,” f) granite countertops, and g) stainless steel appliances. No self-respecting House Hunter insists on anything less.

I wonder how many of these folks really want those things, or want them only because they’ve been told by advertisers that they want them. The latter, I suspect.

I could go the cheap and easy route and blame this situation on Madison Avenue and modern American culture. But I would be remiss in so doing. There were advertising men (and women) practicing their craft in ancient Rome, and apparently quite effectively. The ruins of Pompeii are notable for graffiti promoting garam, a stew composed principally of decayed fish. (It occurs to me that this is the ideal dish to prepare if you wish to keep your friends and relatives out of the kitchen while you’re cooking.) Prostitutes touted their services. The four preoccupations of advertisers, back then, were money, sex, politics, and food.

Tell me what’s changed since.

So let us now imagine Roman House Hunters—or, I suppose, villa hunters—Episode XVII. Octavius, a newly elected senator, and his lovely and talented wife Flavia are seeking a starter villa in an upscale neighborhood off the Appian Way, rural in character, but convenient to shops, temples, usurers, slave auctions, gladiatorial combat venues, baths, and soothsayers. It’s been a tough slog, but Octavius and Flavia have finally found the perfect place.

The vomitorium has granite countertops.

THE DONALD

By

Zachary Klein

 zachWell, look what we got here. As of July 2nd Donald Trump has captured second place in the Republican field of presidential candidates. Mr. “You’re Fired” holds that position in New Hampshire, Iowa, and NATIONWIDE. Now my first instinct when I read that was to figure, hey, he’s a television personality and the upchuck he’s running against, well let’s just say the elevator really doesn’t get to the top floor with any of them.

But then I read some independent voters’ comments and realized the TV show didn’t actually explain his popularity. “He doesn’t need anyone’s money so he can be his own person and say the things we’re all thinking, particularly when it comes to his stance on immigration.” All in all he was praised for his business acumen, his straight talking, and financial freedom.

Enough has been said about his “announcement” speech regarding Mexican rapists, so there’s no need to comment about that. And rather than going off on a rant about all that’s gold doesn’t glitter, let’s hear from the man himself.

1TrumpON THE ENVIRONMENT:

It’s freezing and snowing in New York. We need global warming.

The concept of global warming was created by and for the Chinese in order to make U.S. manufacturing non-competitive.

You cannot sue a company for polluting.

No ‘rights’ to clean air and water.

“Sustainability” is a codeword for “Socialism.”

There’s plenty of room for animals; right next to the mashed potatoes on my plate.

ON FOREIGN POLICY:

To the victor belong the spoils, he said to Bill O’Reilly, about his stance on remaining in Iraq after the war. Therefore I would stay and we keep the oil.

(Dealing with OPEC) We have nobody in Washington that sits back and says, you’re not going to raise that fucking price.

China’s Communist Party has now publicly praised Obama’s reelection. They have never had it so good. Will own America soon.

I beat China all the time.

I will build a great wall — and nobody builds walls better than me, believe me —and I’ll build them very inexpensively. I will build a great, great wall on our southern border, and I will make Mexico pay for that wall.

THOUGHTS ABOUT WOMEN:

Love him or hate him, Trump is a man who is certain about what he wants and sets out to get it, no holds barred. Woman find his power almost as much of a turn-on as his money. (THE DONALD SPEAKING ABOUT HIMSELF.)

All of the women on The Apprentice flirted with me – consciously or unconsciously. That’s to be expected.

You know, it really doesn`t matter what (the media) write as long as you`ve got a young and beautiful piece of ass.

I think the only difference between myself and the other candidates is that I’m more honest and my women are more beautiful.

One thing about me, I’m a very honorable guy. I’m pro-life [now], but I changed my view a number of years ago. One of the primary reasons I changed [was] a friend of mine’s wife was pregnant, and he didn’t really want the baby. He was crying as he was telling me the story. He ends up having the baby and the baby is the apple of his eye. It’s the greatest thing that’s ever happened to him. And you know here’s a baby that wasn’t going to be let into life. And I heard this, and some other stories, and I am pro-life.

ON AFRICAN-AMERICANS:

Laziness is a trait in blacks.

Black guys counting my money! I hate it. The only kind of people I want counting my money are little short guys that wear yarmulkes every day.

I WOULD BE REMISS IF I WROTE THIS COLUMN AND DIDN’T LET THE DONALD TALK ABOUT HIMSELF:

My fingers are long and beautiful, as, it has been well documented, are various other parts of my body.

It’s tangible, it’s solid, it’s beautiful. It’s artistic, from my standpoint, and I just love real estate.

That’s one of the nice things. I mean, part of the beauty of me is that I’m very rich.

I’m not a schmuck. Even if the world goes to hell in a handbasket, I won’t lose a penny.

I’m a bit of a P. T. Barnum. I make stars out of everyone.

I feel a lot of people listen to what I have to say.

Hide your cruelty for those occasions when you really need it.

The point is you can’t be too greedy.

 

So this is the Republican Party candidate who is running SECOND.

trump

 

 

 

 

 

 

What the hell is rattling around in their minds?