Dear Jonas Williker,

My name is Ginny Goodwinch, and I’m a single mother of two from Chappaqua New York. (Bobby is five and Little Derrik is three. Mommy loves you!) I’ve been following your case and I must confess, I find it hard to believe a man with such a kind face could do those horrible things. It’s like my momma always says, kind face, gentle heart. Of course, Momma thinks you’re guilty as heck, but you can’t be right all the time.

The reporter on the news said you didn’t have much family, so I figured you might need someone to talk to. It must get lonely in solitary confinement, even if it is for your own safety. I know what it’s like to be lonely. Sometimes you can be surrounded by people and still feel like the only human being on the planet.

Anyway, feel free to write me back. You can’t believe everything you hear on TV, and I’d love to get to know the real you!

Sincerely,
Ginny Goodwinch

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Dear Jonas,

How are you holding up? Are they feeding you enough? I know prison can be tough. Your father and I have been watching that television series, the Oz one? I don’t like all the cussing and the violence, but I want to stay informed about your situation. I don’t know if you are aware of this, but there are men that dress like ladies in there, so be careful. Can you believe such a thing?

Oh. Your father just reminded me that one of your alleged victims was a he-she. I’m sure you didn’t realize it was a man.

Your father’s still pretty upset about the whole situation. I’ll try to get him on the phone next time you call, but no promises. You know how stubborn he can be. I’m sure he didn’t mean those things he said, about you burning in hell and whatnot. No matter what you’ve done, you’re still our son. Dad’s just never been very good at handling his emotions.

I’ll write again soon.

Love,
Mom

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Dear Purple,

You make my cunt ache. I want to turn it inside out so you can carve your name into it. I want to slather you in my pussy juice and watch the jury lick it off. Make me your fuck slave.

xoxo,
Staci

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Dear Jonas Williker,

I was so happy to get your letter! I’ve never had a pen pal before!

Of course I’ll tell you a little more about myself. I’m twenty-nine years old (I’ve been twenty-nine for the last thirteen years now!), and I’ve lived in Chappaqua all my life. I married right out of high school, which I do NOT recommend, and worked part-time as a bookkeeper for the local lumber yard. My husband Ronnie was a drinker, and what momma used to call a “cooze hound.” He took off right before I turned twenty-nine for the second time. We never had any kids, and the single life hasn’t been easy, what with my thyroid issues. So a few years ago I adopted Bobby and Derrik, two special needs children. (The approval process is faster for specials, because no one wants them.) They bring so much sunshine into my otherwise dreary life!

But listen to me, complaining! How are things with you? Is your arm feeling any better? I can’t believe they let that guard get away with such cruelty. Even if you did threaten to violate the stump of his mother’s headless corpse (which I know you didn’t). What’s this world coming to?

I’m enclosing a picture of myself, as requested. It’s a few years old, but I don’t really have a lot of photos without the kids. I hope you don’t mind that I’m only wearing a nightgown. I think I look really pretty in it. (Now I’m blushing!) Anyway, I never had anyone to share it with, so I hope you like it.

Your pal,
Ginny

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Dear Jonas,

I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but your father isn’t doing so well. The press has been hounding him non-stop and the stress is really getting to him. He can’t even go out to get the paper without someone shoving a camera “in his face.” (I’ve toned down his colorful language, just in case anyone else is reading these letters.) He’s also taken to drinking again, and you know how bad that is for his IBS. Plus, with my arthritis, I can’t scrub a toilet the way I used to.

Personally, I don’t mind the press. You just need to talk to them like regular people. One time they even put me on the news! I told them all about what a smart, well-behaved kid you were. I felt like a star! Unfortunately your father wasn’t too happy about it, so now I’m not allowed to talk to them. It’s a shame, because your father isn’t much of a conversationalist these days.

Have you made any friends on the inside? It’s always good to have someone to watch your back!

Love you,
Mom

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Dear Purple,

I want you to tie me up and bathe in my menstrual blood. I want to feel the knife you used to cut them moving inside me. How much longer will you make me wait? I’ve rubbed my pussy raw reading the autopsy reports.

xoxo,
Staci

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Jonas,

Just a reminder, please exercise discretion when corresponding with members of the public. As you should be well aware, the correctional facility inspects all inmate mail, and anything you commit to writing may be used against you in court. Try to keep this in mind as your trial approaches. As your attorney, I would recommend suspending all non-essential communication with the outside world. It can only make my job more difficult.

Anita Trellis, Esq.

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Dear Mr. Williker,

My name is Candace Bennington. I am a PhD student in the Criminal Justice program at John J. University, and I have a proposition for you. Undoubtedly your legal team has counseled you against giving any interviews until after the trial, but I am not interested in the specifics of your legal woes. I am interested in your perspective.

I am writing my Thesis on the phenomenon of Hybristophilia, commonly referred to as “Bonnie and Clyde Syndrome.” Basically, it is a term used to describe a person who is sexually attracted to criminals (or those who are perceived as such, as may be your case). Based on what I’m seeing in the news, this is an area in which you have some experience. It has been reported that you receive quite a bit of fan mail, and that attendance at your pre-trial hearings has been predominantly female.

I would love to set up a time to speak with you, if you would be amenable. Please let me know at your earliest convenience.

Sincerely,
Candace Bennington

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Dear Jonas Williker,

Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Abigail Tinder, and I am a twelve-year-old preacher’s daughter from Argos, Indiana. I am writing to tell you that even though you are a despicable sinner who has committed heinous crimes, it is not too late to save your soul from eternal damnation.

Of course, fear of hell is not, in and of itself, a valid justification for redemption. I had to learn that lesson the hard way. As it says in the book of Romans, you must renounce your sin, and believe with all your heart that Jesus Christ is Lord. Only then can you truly be saved.

It is that easy.

If you are interested, I have enclosed a tract with a simple sinner’s prayer for you to recite. I am also available to further instruct you in the ways of righteousness. I believe your conversion would be a valuable testimony to the saving grace of our Lord Jesus Christ (not that he needs it, mind you). You could be the next David Berkowitz. Think about it.

Yours in Christ,
Abigail Tinder

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Dear Jonas,

I saw you on the television today. You looked so handsome in your suit! Was it my imagination or were there an awful lot of women in the courtroom? You better not be cheating on me! (Just kidding.)

Speaking of kids, Bobby and Derek have been driving me up the wall. (You hear me, guys? Mommy’s still very upset about her Kristi Yamaguchi commemorative plates!) Sometimes I feel like they’re the only thing holding me back from driving across the country to visit you. Would you like that? I’d leave the kids with Momma, but she’s been confined to that dang wheelchair ever since she broke her hip. (She doesn’t think I know, but EMS told me she was fornicating with the gardener in the shower when it happened!)

Sometimes I get so angry over the things they say about you on the news. What happened to innocent until proven guilty? They don’t know you raped and murdered all those women. That’s for the jury to decide. I wish I knew where that mean old news anchor lived, I would drive to her house and give her a piece of my mind!

Love you,
Ginny

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Dear Jonas,

I know you have a lot going on with your trial, and I hate to be a bother, but I have to ask. Do you remember your cousin Tina? You were only five or six at the time, but she went missing during the family picnic that year. We searched the woods for days and never found any trace of her—which is why your Aunt Lottie had to go live at the hospital for a while. Then a few weeks later, I found her jacket in the back of your closet. The purple one, with the white trim? It was all torn up and stained, and when I asked you how it got there you just shrugged and gave me that blank stare, the one you made in all your school pictures. I’m not accusing you of anything, but the purple satin used to gag your alleged victims reminded me of that jacket. All I know is that even after all these years, it would be a real relief for Aunt Lottie to know what happened to poor Tina.

On a lighter note, I saw that news piece about all your lady-admirers. Your father nearly fell out of his chair, but I’m not surprised. You can be quite the charmer when you put your mind to it. Remember the time Mrs. Edmunds was going to give you a B+ on that paper, and you convinced her to give you an A? She told me you made a very compelling case and she just couldn’t say no. I was so proud!

Love you,
Mom

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Dear Mr. Williker

Thank you for your timely response. I will get right to the point by saying I appreciate the concerns you have. So, as requested, here is a little more about me and my project.

You are correct in assuming my interest in this subject matter stems from personal experience. You see, I never knew my father. He was a career criminal who spent the entirety of my childhood behind bars. My mother, in her infinite wisdom, never allowed me to visit him. By the time I was old enough to do so on my own, he was dead. Stabbed in the throat by a jagged piece of lunch tray. It was over a fruit cup.

Despite depriving me of a personal relationship with my own father, my mother corresponded with him often. It drove a wedge between us. This project is partly an attempt to understand her motivation. How could she be so obsessed with a man she professed to hate? Was she just trying to protect me from him? Or was she trying to keep him all to herself?

I hope this has satisfied your curiosity. Please let me know if we could meet.

Sincerely,
Candace Bennington

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Dear Jonas,

I wish I could have seen what you did to their bodies. Tell me, did you fuck them before or after you cut their eyes out? Which one was your favorite? Was it Glenda Myers? Or was it Stefanie Kellerman? I’ll bet it was Stefanie. The autopsy report said you dug up her body days later to go back for seconds. Remember how her husband broke down when he found out? It was deliciously pathetic. She must have been one sweet peach.

Would you like to do those things to me?

xoxo
Staci

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Mr. Williker,

I represent a contingent of concerned bereaved looking only for closure. It is a well known fact that there are many missing and presumed dead associated with your case that have yet to be recovered. You hinted at as much yourself during your police interrogation, which is part of the public record. Maybe you were only toying with them, but I do not believe that to be the case. If you have any humanity left, I implore you, please release the details and locations of all your victims so their families can say goodbye properly. It would be an act of kindness on your part.

Sincerely,
Aurelius Percy, Esq.
Percy, Paramount & Bint

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Dear Jonas,

It’s been a while since I’ve heard from you. Is everything okay? Why haven’t you written me back? If this is about the woman who flashed her breasts in the courtroom, don’t worry—I’m not mad at you. I know it’s not your fault women are attracted to you. They see you as a hunter, an alpha male. It’s only natural. Just please, write back soon. I know I get to see your face on TV every day, but your words bring me so much comfort. Whenever I get a letter from you I turn on Court TV and turn the volume down, so I can read it out loud and pretend you’re talking to me. Of course, it breaks my concentration when they cut to that ugly old judge, and the children don’t understand that sometimes mommy needs “private time,” but it’s all I have. Please. Just thinking about it makes me burn inside!

I’ve enclosed another snapshot as an incentive. It’s a bit naughty, so don’t let the guards see. I had my Bobby take it. For a little guy, he’s pretty good with the camera! Anyway, there’s plenty more where that came from.

Love and kisses,
Your Ginny Bird

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Dear Mr. Williker

I appreciate you taking the time to speak with me last week. It was very enlightening. In fact—and please do not take this the wrong way—I must admit that you were not at all what I expected. I was impressed with how intelligently you spoke on the subjects of criminal justice and psychology. Do you have a background in law enforcement?

Regardless, I am in your debt. The insights you provided will make a great addition to my dissertation, as will the interviews I conducted with your so-called groupies. They are quite a possessive bunch. It wasn’t easy to convince them my interests in you were strictly academic. Good thing I am a skilled liar.

Would it be possible to set up another meeting? I have some…follow-up questions.

Yours,
Candace Bennington
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Mr. Jonas Williker,

I have yet to receive a response from you, which leads me to believe one of two things:

You believe you deserve hell. If that is the case, let me remind you that we ALL deserve hell. It is only by the blood of Christ, his sacrifice in our stead, that we are washed clean of sin and permitted entry into the gates of heaven. The egregious nature of your crimes aside, there is very little difference between you and I.

Either that, or you are a prideful man who takes pleasure from spitting in the face of God. Such defiance can only result in destruction. Proverbs chapter 16, verse 5 says: Everyone who is arrogant in heart is an abomination to the Lord; be assured, he will not go unpunished.

Do you think you are too good for the grace of God? You will burn in hell for your arrogance, along with all the unrepentant fags and baby-killers. Consider yourself warned.

Yours in Christ,
Abigail Tinder ​

— ​

Alright, Buster,

I don’t know who this Candace slut is or what kind of spell she’s got you under, but I will tear her fucking eyes out. Imagine my surprise when I turned on the TV, all set to read your latest letter and get a little well-deserved alone time with my man, only to hear you propose to some random bitch in open court! Are you doing this to spite me? Is it because I couldn’t be there with you? Well guess what? I left the kids at Mom’s while she was sleeping, and by the time you read this I will be halfway across the country on my way to the courthouse.

Do you think this whore knows you like I know you? Do you think she sees through all the fame and the bullshit to the vulnerable person you really are? I was there for you when no one else was. I don’t care if you did kill all those people, you have brought so much joy into my life, and I am not about to let that go. So you tell this piece of trash I’m coming for her, and if she’s still around when I get there, I’m going to destroy her world.

Your future wife,
Mrs. Ginny Williker

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Dear Purple,

I took these pictures of my pussy for you. They are part of a larger series based on your life’s work. I consider them my crowning achievement as an artist and a monument to your greatness.

Do they have the Internet in jail? If so, you can see more at my personal website, stacixxx.com. Maybe you could mention it the next time the cameras are rolling. I could use the hits.

I probably won’t be able to write for a while, as money’s getting tight and I have to work all the time. Plus, my manager is kind of the jealous type. But if my website takes off and I’m able to pay him the money I owe him, there’ll be nothing left standing between us.

xoxo
Staci

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Dear Jonas,

You’ve certainly had an exciting week! I couldn’t believe my eyes when they showed that mad woman on the courthouse steps, screaming bloody murder. What is this world coming to? I hope that poor reporter she bit is okay.

And congratulations on the engagement! I must admit, I wasn’t sure what to think at first. I was as shocked as anyone when you proposed, but Candy seems like she’s a good fit for you. You need a smart woman to take care of you after your mother’s gone. It just goes to show, it’s never too late to turn things around. You might make a grandma out of me yet!

Unfortunately, I also have some bad news. Your father is in the hospital. He didn’t take too well to the news of your engagement. In fact, he got so worked up he burst a blood vessel in his head. I know you two never really got along, but please keep him in your prayers.

Love always,
Mom

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To My Dearest Jonas,

I don’t know if you’ve heard the news, but I went and got myself arrested. Now don’t you worry, they’re treating me just fine. I’m actually enjoying the down time. No screaming kids, no overbearing mother telling me how I’m ruining my life. It’s given me time to reflect. I realize it probably wasn’t the best idea for me to show up at the courthouse like that. And I do feel bad about biting that woman’s cheek. I saw a pretty face and I snapped. They told me I threatened to “suck her soul through her eye sockets,” but honestly, I don’t remember much. After the taste of blood hit my tongue, it was all a blur.

Have you ever tasted human flesh? I can see how people could get used to it. You know, if there was nothing else.

Anyway, I hope the trial is going well. I’m on what they call “psychiatric hold,” and they don’t let me watch the news or read the paper. I’m not even supposed to be writing you, so I don’t know if you’ll get this. But if by some chance you do, I want you to know I’m sorry for embarrassing you. The last thing I want is to hurt your chances of being exonerated.

In other news, Momma called and told me the state put Bobby and Derrik into foster care. (Sorry, guys! Mommy still loves you!) I know we never really talked about kids, but it’s probably for the best. I need to concentrate on getting better. Then I can concentrate on us. The kids were just a distraction. Despite the bars in front of me, I feel free for the first time in my life. And I owe it all to you.

Love always,
Ginny

 

 

Joshua Chaplinsky is the Managing Editor of LitReactor.com and the author of ‘Kanye West—Reanimator.’ This story originally appeared in print in Thug Lit issue 20.  His short fiction has also appeared in Zetetic, Motherboard, Vol. 1 Brooklyn, Thuglit, Dark Moon Digest, Pantheon Magazine, and numerous print anthologies. More info at joshuachaplinsky.com and @jaceycockrobin on Twitter.

 

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