This is a fictional story of a fictional serial killer, it was inspired by a program on the subject I was watching on TV, and I began to wonder what effect these crimes had on the killers family,

I thought that I knew him,
had done all his life,
I grew up with the fellow,
introduced him to his wife.
we went fishing together,
learnt to swim in the lake,
he was best man at my wedding
for heaven's sake.

Ok he's a bit rough round the edges,
a bit sharp with his tongue,
but I really can't believe
what they say he has done.

Alright, he can be unpleasent
and no-one can deny,
that when he gets drunk
he's a violent guy.
but he isn't a killer,
not in cold blood,
for Gods sake, he's my brother,
don't drag his name through the mud.

He was arrested on wednesday
while he was at home,
they'd apparently waited,
until he was alone.
in case there was a struggle
and somebody got hurt,
so they waited till his kids were at school
and his wife was at work,

Then they swooped in mob handed
and surrounded the place,
brought him out in handcuffs,
I suppose just in case
he should somehow get free
and try making a break,
of course he wouldn't because
only a guilty man, would attempt to escape.

I was told of it on Thursday
and thought it was a joke,
but it soon became clear
as the officer spoke.

He said they had dug up his garden
and found some remains
of some decomposed bodies,
and they'd be digging again,
down on his allottment,
beneath the vegatable mound,
where they believe even more bodies
will probably be found.

I just couldn't believe it,
all I kept saying was "No,
he's no serial killer,
not my brother Joe",
but the officer just nodded,
and kept telling me, "Yes,
I'm sorry to tell you,
but he's already confessed".

Then all of our childhood
played back through my eyes.
How could we be so close,
and yet I not realize?

But as if a vail had been lifted,
it all began to make sence,
our dog being butchered
when we were no more than ten,
and those times we went fishing
and compared each others stock,
how his fish had been beaten
to death with a rock.

And he was no more than fourteen
when he attacked me with a blade,
I still have that scar, on my arm,
that he made.
How could I not have seen it?
how could I be so blind?
to those demons of darkness
in control of his mind?

They investigated me and his family
to make sure we weren't involved,
and the love we had for him
seemed to suddenly desolve,
when the details emerged of his killings,
and the depravity to which he'd sucombed
the gory details bore witness
to the monster that he had become.

Well they locked him away in a prison
for six hundred and forty eight years,
even with parole he will die there,
and few people out here will shed tears.

As for his family and me, we are outcasts,
as guilty as him, by default,
shunned and abused out in public,
it started as soon as my brother was caught.
Seventeen people he slaughtered,
and for that may he perish in Hell,
though it's twenty one with myself and his family,
for we are his victims as well.


By S.E.Ralph.

5/11/2015