Back in early 2009 I went to the New England Book Festival Awards ceremony to pick up an award for "Nobody's Home."
It was my first award ceremony and I even wore a suit coat (sneakers though). I grabbed a beer and sat down to a guy who looked familiar to me.
I recognized him from his photo on the back of his books. He writes true crime drama. I had read a number of his books.
We spent a few hours chatting. I asked him about what it's like to interview killers.
He told me that he was definitely affected by it.
Well, he has a new book out this week about his constant communications with serial killer Keith Jepperson.
How could a relationship with such a guy not creep into your real life.
Jepperson told Phelps about feeding a Whopper to one of his victims...
...after she was dead...
...then laughing because she wasn't enjoying it.
Phelps is a good dude.
I really enjoyed my evening with him and his lovely wife.
But he couldn't find back all the demons.
He'd be at his child's game and he'd be thinking about the killer...
...who once tied a victim to the bottom of his big rig as he drove across country.
When he got to where he was...
...her body had been disintegrated by the hot asphalt.
Stuff of nightmares.
William and I kept in contact for a little while...
I read his new one every year.
I can't wait to read this account about how it messed with his mind to talk to a killer for years and years.
Hang in there, William.
And keep writing!
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