My top 3 ice-breakers to a serial killer
'This is the WORST idea you've EVER had'
#28. Write to a Serial Killer
I was sad when the Unabomber died. I thought he was alright, murdering aside, and I’d always intended to write to him at the Florida Supermax where he was interred.
But alas, he corked it in 2023 - so if I was going to send a letter to a deranged psychopath in prison (and I was), I’d have to settle for the Crossbow Cannibal instead.
The Crossbow Cannibal (Stephen Griffiths) sadly killed three sex workers in Bradford between 2009 and 2010. You can probably guess how he killed them and what he did afterwards (crossbow, cannibal).
A horrible person, for sure, but also probably the most interesting British serial killer I could find on Wikipedia. Not that I’d really needed to look – he’d always stuck in my mind. A serial killer documentary had highlighted eerily similar interests to mine – WWII, heavy metal, serial killers. What was it about our circumstances that had made him into a murdering nutcase, and me into simply a regular nutcase? I had to find out; I put pen to paper.
Jasmine, my wife and the mother of my one-year-old son, was apoplectic when I read her the letter. I reassured her that Griffiths would never be getting out of prison, that he’d attempted suicide a few times anyway, and that, if he did ever escape, we could just run away onto a houseboat anyway. This did little to pacify her - nor anyone else actually.
‘This is the worst idea you have ever had,’ said my colleague, whose dad was a barrister and knew of some pretty nasty people in prison and what they could be like. ‘And that’s a very high bar.’
Taking their feedback on board, I toned down the letter slightly, removing a lot of the more sensitive questions and finding a PO box so I could communicate with Griffiths pseudonymously.
I intended to use my old landlord as a pen name, but a friend pointed out that, if I’d wanted Griffiths to empathise and reply, I should use a name more similar to his. Why not the same name, in fact? I wracked my brain for a Stephen I wouldn’t mind being crossbowed or indeed cannibalised, and settled on Stephen Mulhern, the TV husk who’s all television and no personality. There’s a darkness behind those plastic eyes. He looks like a blow-up doll brought to life. In all probability, I thought, I wouldn’t be surprised to learn Mulhern was a serial killer himself. (N.B. In my opinion - not libellous.)
‘Good,’ I murmured, signing his name to the letter. ‘Good. He deserves this.’
Dear Stephen,
How are you? I hope you’re well. I also hope you don’t mind me reaching out to you with this letter. We don’t know each other.
My name is Stephen Mulhern (not that one), I’m a 35-year-old man and a new father who works in marketing and lives in North London. I’m trying to broaden my horizons in life and do one new thing for every week of the year. So far, I have been bungee jumping, had a colonic, and killed and ate a chicken (no crossbows involved!).
One of my activities is to write to a prisoner and I thought immediately of you. I remember when your case was in the news that I felt I had a lot in common with you, including your love of history and true crime. I too own a crossbow, though I am not a cannibal. I wondered how paper-thin might be the veil separating your life from mine. Might I have trodden the same path as you given a light nudge this way or that?
Anyway, that’s all a bit dark and dreary, isn’t it! I thought I’d ask you a few questions to get to know each other better.
How do you pass the time? Have you read any good books lately?
What is your biggest hope for the future? And your number one regret in life?
Why did you kill all those sex workers?
Would you rather never be able to wear shoes again or never be able to take your shoes off, and why?
I look forward to hopefully hearing your answers.
Yours faithfully,
Stephen Mulhern (not that one)
I never heard back.
Although, come to think of it, I’ve not seen Mulhern on the tele for a while either.
So - who’s your favourite serial killer, and why?