In an effort to better understand what makes men into monsters, we have gone beyond second hand stories and collected actual letters from the killers themselves. While detailed biographies offer us a glimpse into madness, they do not allow us the opportunity to hear what the accused have to say. This section of the Serial Killer Magazine gives you that opportunity. We do not condone or approve of anything in these letters. We simply provide them to you, unedited, and allow you to form your own opinions. Check back often for more updates to this section. Our staff is constantly searching for more letters from convicted criminals. If you have any information on where we can find more letters, please contact us. These are the killers in their own words. These are the letters from hell.

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LETTER FROM DAVID BERKOWITZ

Dear Captain Joseph Borrelli,

I am deeply hurt by your calling me a wemon hater. I am not. But I am a monster. I am the 'Son of Sam.' I am a little brat.

When father Sam gets drunk he gets mean. He beats his family. Sometimes he ties me up to the back of the house. Other times he locks me in the garage. Sam loves to drink blood.

'Go out and kill,' commands father Sam.

'Behind our house some rest. Mostly young -- raped and slaughtered -- their blood drained -- just bones now.

Papa Sam keeps me locked in the attic too. I can't get out but I look out the attic window and watch the world go by.

I feel like an outsider. I am on a different wavelength then everybody else -- programmed too kill.

However, to stop me you must kill me. Attention all police: Shoot me first -- shoot to kill or else keep out of my way or you will die!

Papa Sam is old now. He needs some blood to preserve his youth. He has had too many heart attacks. 'Ugh, me hoot, it hurts, sonny boy.'

I miss my pretty princess most of all. She's resting in our ladies house. But I'll see her soon.

I am the 'Monster' -- 'Beelzebub' -- the chubby behemouth.

I love to hunt. Prowling the streets looking for fair game -- tasty meat. The wemon of Queens are prettyist of all. It must be the water they drink. I live for the hunt -- my life. Blood for papa.

Mr. Borrelli, sir, I don't want to kill anymore. No sur, no more but I must, 'honour thy father.'

I want to make love to the world. I love people. I don't belong on earth. Return me to yahoos.

To the people of Queens, I love you. And I want to wish all of you a happy Easter. May

God bless you in this life and in the next.

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LETTER FROM THE ZODIAC KILLER

She was young and beautiful but now she is battered and dead. She is not the first and she will not be the last i lay awake nights thinking about my next victim. Maybe she will be the beautiful blond that babysits near the little store and walks down the dark alley each evening about seven. Or maybe she will be the shapely brunett that said xxx no when i asked her for a date in high school. But maybe it will not be either. But i shall cut off her female parts and deposit them for the whole city to see. So don't make it to easy for me. Keep your sisters, daughters, and wives off the streets and alleys. Miss bates was stupid. She went to the slaughter like a lamb. She did not put up a struggle. But i did. It was a ball. I first cut the middle wire from the distributor. Then i waited for her in the library and followed her out after about two minutes. The battery must have been about dead by then. I then offered to help. She was then very willing to talk to me. I told her that my car was down the street and that i would give her a lift home. When we were away from the library walking, i said it was about time. She asked me, "about time for what?" i said it was about time for her to die. I grabbed her around the neck with my hand over her mouth and my other hand with a small knife at her throat. She went very willingly. Her breast felt warm and very firm under my hands, but only one thing was on my mind. Making her pay for all the brush offs that she had given me during the years prior. She died hard. She squirmed and shook as i chocked her, and her lips twiched. She let out a scream once and i kicked her in the head to shut her up. I plunged the knife into her and it broke. I then finished the job by cutting her throat. I am not sick. I am insane. But that will not stop the game. This letter should be published for all to read it. It just might save that girl in the alley. But that's up to you. It will be on your conscience. Not mine. Yes, i did make that call to you also. It was just a warning. Beware...i am stalking your girls now.

Cc. Chief of police
enterprise

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