15, 1994 Investigation Status: Closed Contents: Classified Mr. Anderson, Half of the month is gone and from my point of view, much of it was a waste. Where is the mass panic? Where is the fear? Where is the publicity? I’ve killed seven people. You’ve written about four. You didn’t even mention the cop’s wife! Do you not know about it? You’re supposed to be a reporter, Anderson. I can’t hand you everything on a fucking plate. I can’t do everything, Mr. Anderson, and I’m growing so tired of waiting. I’ve encouraged you, warned you, even threatened you, and I get no respect. Are some of the articles good? Yes, they are all I could ask for. But it’s not enough. It’s not close to enough. I want speculation about me. Who am I? Why do I do it? Can the police catch me? All you have are straight-laced stories with no hint of speculation. How are they supposed to fear me if they never really know who I am? I chose you, Mr. Anderson, because I thought you would give flight to this fantasy of mine.
