Serial killer Israel Keyes, 34, was arrested on March 12, 2012 for the murder of Alaskan barista Samantha Koenig, but under police questioning began to reveal the he had killed many more people, possibly as many as 12. Police had only tied him to three murders when Keyes decided to kill himself in his cell. The following four-page note was found under his body, bloodstained and illegible. The FBI reportedly concluded that there were no coded messages in the note, nor was it of any value to the investigation, and so have released Keyes’ morbid, self-righteous last musings to the public. The full text of this sometimes-illegible note has been transcribed to the best of our knowledge below.
[Crossed out: "Of life most have elements, you have completely lost sight]
“Global overuse as you over colonize.
“Where will you go, you clever little worm, if you bleed your host dry?
“Back in your ride, the night is still young, streetlights push back the black I neat rows. Off to the right a graveyard appears, lines of stones, bodies molder below. [Crossed out: Turn your hea] Turn away quick, bob your head to the seat, as straight through that stop sign you roll loaded truck with lights off slams into you broadside, your flesh smashed as metal explodes.
“You may have been free, you loved living your lie, fate had its own scheme crushed like a bug you still die.
“Soon, now, you’ll join those ranks of dead or your ashes the wind will soon blow. Family and friends will shed a few tears, pretend it’s off to heaven you go. But the reality is you were just bones and meat, and with your brain died also your soul.
[Sideways: "A nightmare you called a dream while others you despised.
Attacked countries what didn't provide America.
Money was your only scheme for it you
Now you are the punchline … [illegible]
“Send the dying to wait for their death in the comfort of retirement homes, quietly/quickly say “it is for the best” it’s best for you so their fate you’ll not know. Turn a blind eye back to the screen, soak in your reality shows. Stand in front of your mirror and you preen, in a plastic castle you call home.
“Land of the free, land of the lie, land of scheme Americanize! Consume what you don’t need, stars you idolize, pursue what you admit is a dream, then its American die.
“Get in your big car, so you can get to work fast, on roads made of dinosaur bones. Punch in on the clock and sit on your ass, playing stupid ass games on your phone. Paper on your wall, says you got smarts. The test that you took told you so, [crossed out: kill that computer let's see what you know … illegible] but you would still crawl like the vermin you are, once your precious power grids blown.
“Land of the free, land of the lie, land of the scheme, Americanize.
“Now that I have you held tight I will tell you a story, speak soft in your ear so you know that it’s true. You’re my love at first sight and though you’re scared to be near me, my words penetrate your thoughts now in an intimate prelude.
“I looked in your eyes, they were so dark, warm and trusting, as though you had not a worry or care. The more guiless the game the better potential to fill up those pools with your fear.
“Your face framed in dark curls like a portrait, the sun shone through highlights of red. What color I wonder, and how straight will it turn plastered back with the sweat of your blood.
“Your wet lips were a promise of a secret unspoken, nervous laugh as it burst like a pulse of blood from your throat. There will be no more laughter here.
“I feel your body tense up, my hand now on your shoulder, your eyes…Forget the lady called luck she does not abide near me for her powers don’t extend to those who are dead.
“My precious pet would that I could keep you [illegible]. Let you be the master of your own fate. What depth, I wonder, would you willingly stoop to knowing full well what’s at stake? My pretty captive butterfly colorful wings my hand smears…punishment and tears.
“Violent metamorphosis, emerge my dark moth princess…come often and worship on the altar of your flesh…You shudder…and try to shrink far from me. I’ll have you tied down and begging to become my Stockholm sweetie.
“Okay, talk is over, words are placid and weak. Back it with action or it all comes off cheap. Watch close while I work now, feel the electric shock of my touch, open your trembling flower, or your petals I’ll crush.