EDMUND KEMPER INTERVIEW
Front Page Detective
Magazine
March 1974
By MARJ von
BEROLDINGEN
Just a few hours after California's mass murderer
Edmund Kemper, 24, was convicted on eight counts of first degree murder,
he kept a promise and granted me an exclusive interview. It was not my
first person-to-person talk with the young killer.
As a reporter assigned to cover the grisly murder
investigation (I’ll Show You Where I Buried the Pieces of Their
Bodies, August INSIDE, 1973) and the trial, I had, by chance,
chatted with him a few weeks before his trial, as he was waiting at the
Santa Cruz County courthouse for a conference with his lawyer.
I wrote a story about our meeting and my impressions
of him and he liked it, thus came his promise of an interview once the
trial was ended. Kemper had warned me the court hearings on the gory
sex-killings of six coeds and the subsequent murders of his mother and
her best friend probably would turn my stomach. They did.
As a sex-starved young man in what should have been a
peak of his virility, he was sexually and socially so uncertain of
himself that he began to prey on hitchhiking coeds, not as a rapist, but
as a murderer and necrophiliac.
"At first I picked up girls just to talk to them,
just to try to get acquainted with people my own age and try to strike
up a friendship," he had told investigators. Then he began to have sex
fantasies about the girls he picked up hitchhiking, but feared being
caught and convicted as a rapist So, he said: "I decided to mix the two
and have a situation of rape and murder and no witnesses and no
prosecution."
Kemper’s first two victims were 18-year-old Fresno
State college coeds, Mary Ann Pesce and Anita Luchessa whom he stabbed
to death May 7, 1972, after he picked them up in Berkeley.
"I had full intentions of killing them. I would loved
to have raped them, but not having any experience at all..." he trailed
off.
He disclosed that, despite the fact he killed Miss
Pesce, she had awakened a feeling of tenderness in him that none of his
other victims did. "I was really quite struck by her personality and her
looks and there was just almost a reverence there," he said.
Kemper decapitated the girls' corpses, burying Miss
Pesce's body in a redwood grove along a mountain highway and casting
that of Miss Luchessa out in the brush on a hillside. He kept their
heads for a time and then hurled them down a steep slope of a ravine.
The girls were listed as "missing persons" for months
until Miss Pesce's head was found by hikers and, subsequently,
identified through dental charts. Kemper later led investigators to the
grave where he had buried her.
"Sometimes, afterward, I visited there ... to be near
her ... because I loved her and wanted her," he said on the witness
stand.
Miss Luchessa's head and body never were found.
A month after Miss Pesce's head was discovered,
Kemper chose another victim. Beautiful Aiko Koo, 15, a talented Oriental
dancer, was hitchhiking from her home in Berkeley to a dance class in
San Francisco. She never arrived. Kemper literally snuffed out her life
in the darkness of an isolated spot in the mountains above the city of
Santa Cruz.
Her mouth was taped shut and he pinched her nostrils
together until she suffocated. Then he raped her inert body and put it
in the trunk of his car. A few miles away, he stopped at a country bar
"for a few beers."
Before going into the bar, he opened the trunk to
make sure she was dead. He told investigators:
"I suppose as I was standing there looking, I was
doing one of those triumphant things, too, admiring my work and admiring
her beauty, and I might say admiring my catch like a fisherman."
Kemper also spoke of a sense of exultation in his
killings:
"I just wanted the exaltation over the party. In
other words, winning over death. They were dead and I was alive. That
was the victory in my case."
He said of the act of decapitation, "I remember it
was very exciting … there was actually a sexual thrill … It was kind of
an exalted triumphant type thing, like taking the head of a deer or an
elk or something would be to a hunter.
"I was the hunter and they were the victims."
On the witness stand, though, Kemper testified that "death
never entered as a factor" in the coed killings. He said:
"Alive, they were distant, not sharing with me. I was
trying to establish a relationship and there was no relationship there...
"When they were being killed, there wasn't anything
going on in my mind except that they were going to be mine ... That was
the only way they could be mine." (Kemper testified that as a child of
eight he had killed his pet cat, which had transferred its affections to
his two sisters, "to make it mine.")
His desire to possess the coeds led Kemper even
further than murder, he revealed in court. In his fantasies he literally
made two of the girls "a part of me" by eating "parts of them."
Of all his coed victims he said: "They were like
spirit wives... I still had their spirits. I still have them," he
declared in the courtroom.
Kemper did not kill again until after he bought a
.22-caliber pistol in January of this year.
"I went bananas after I got that .22," he told me.
The day he bought it he fatally shot coed Cynthia
Schall, a 19-year-old Santa Cruz girl, in the trunk of his car. He
carried her body into his mother's apartment near Santa Cruz, kept it in
his bedroom closet over night and dissected it in the bathtub the next
day while his mother was at work.
He buried the girl's head in the back yard "with her
face turned toward my bedroom window and, sometimes at night, I talked
to her, saying love things, the way you do to a girlfriend or wife."
Less than a month later, Kemper picked up two girls,
Rosalind Thorpe, 23, and Alice Liu, 21, on the campus of the University
of California at Santa Cruz (UCSC). He shot them both to death in the
car before driving off campus and later cut off their heads in the trunk
of his car while it was parked in the street in front of his mother's
apartment.
He told investigators the killings came on an impulse
bom out of anger with his mother.
"My mother and I had had a real tiff. I was pissed. I
told her I was going to a movie and I jumped up and went straight to the
campus because it was still early.
"I said, the first girl that's halfway decent that I
pick up, I'm gonna blow her brains out," he revealed.
Kemper's final killings were those of his mother,
Mrs. Clarnell Strandberg, 52, and her best friend, Mrs. Sara Hallett,
59, in his mother's apartment on Easter weekend. Then he began a
cross-country flight, in a rented car loaded with guns and ammunition,
that ended in a decision to surrender, "so I wouldn't kill again."
On April 24, 1973, he was arrested in a public
telephone booth in Pueblo, Colo., after he had called policemen he knew
in Santa Cruz to say he was the coed killer and told them where to find
the bodies of his mother and Mrs. Hallett.
The afternoon I went to see Kemper in the Santa Cruz
County jail where he was being kept pending sentencing the next morning,
I expected to talk to him for an hour or so, in the presence of a jailer.
Instead, I spent over five hours alone with him, locked up in a tiny
glass-walled room within sight but not sound of the jailer's desk.
Though he wore manacles on his ankles, his hands were free.
Disarming as he is at times, more than once during
the long afternoon I was reminded that I was sitting face to face with a
six-foot, nine-inch 255-pound giant who had murdered and mutilated six
coeds, beaten his sleeping mother to death with a hammer and strangled
his mother's best friend in a matter of seconds. The frequent traffic of
jailers and inmates past the glass wall was reassuring comfort.
My visit with Kemper was an unforgettable experience,
inducing a collage of feelings. As he talked on and on, he was many
things.
- A lonely young man, grateful for companionship on
the eve of what was certainly to be his last day outside prison.
- An angry and bitter sibling recalling what he felt
was rejection and a lack of love from a divorced father who "cared more
for his second family than he did us."
- A son who alternately hated and "loved" a mother he
described as a "manhater" who had three husbands and "took her violent
hatred of my father out on me."
- A sometimes wry and boastful raconteur, chronicling
the events of his life and a person quick to see the humorous side of
things and laugh, even if the joke is on him.
- An anguished and remorseful killer when speaking of
the coeds whose bodies he had sexually assaulted after death and of the
"pain" he had caused their families. "The day those fathers [of the
Pesce and Luchessa girls] testified in court was very hard for me ... I
felt terrible. I wanted to talk to them about their daughters, comfort
them ... But what could I say?"
Kemper also was a person who momentarily precipitated
in me a flush of terror and then allayed my misgivings by faultlessly
assuming the role of the gracious host. He talked about the jury's
verdict that morning. He had pleaded not guilty and not guilty by reason
of insanity to each of the killings.
Court-appointed psychiatrists, called to testify by
the prosecution, described Kemper as suffering from a "personality
disorder," but said he was not criminally insane by California's legal
standards. One doctor called Kemper a "sadistic sex maniac."
The jury found Kemper was guilty and sane.
He didn't disagree with the jury's verdict.
"I really wasn't surprised when it came out that
way," he said. "There was just no way they could find me insane ...
Society just isn't ready for that yet. Ten or 20 years from now they
would have, but they're not going to take a chance."
But he expressed regret that the "sane" verdict would
mean he would go to prison, instead of possibly returning to Atascadero
state hospital.
Kemper spent five years at Atascadero after he
murdered his grandparents in 1964 at the age of 15. He recalled with
pride the job he'd held there as head of the psychological testing lab
at the age of 19 and working directly under the hospital's chief
psychologist. He said:
"I felt I definitely could have done a lot of good
there, helping people return to the streets ... I could have fit in
there quicker than anybody else...
"After all," he explained, "I grew up there. That
used to be like my home.
"Basically, I was born there, you know. I have a lot
of fond memories of the place ... And I don't know anybody else who
has," he added with a rueful laugh.
It was there that he became a member of the Junior
Chamber of Commerce. During his trial, he wore his membership pin in his
lapel, apparently with pride.
Because of his intelligence and ability, he
apparently was a valuable aide in psychological testing and research. "I
helped to develop some new tests and some new scales on MMPI... You've
probably heard of it ... the Minnesota Multiphasic Personality
Inventory," he said with a chuckle. "I helped to develop a new scale on
that, the 'Overt Hostility Scale'... How's that for a..." He groped for
a word.
"Ironic?" I suggested.
"Ironic note," he agreed. "There we go, it was an
ironic note that I helped to develop that scale and then look what
happened to me when I got back out on the streets."
Though Kemper couldn't give me a positive answer to
why he did what he did, he partly blamed society, the courts and his
parents as well, saying:
"I didn't have the supervision I should have had once
I got out... I was supposed to see my parole officer every other week
and a social worker the other week.
"I never did. I think if I had, I would have made it.
"Two weeks after I was on the streets, I got scared
because I hadn't seen anyone.
"Finally, I called the district parole office and
asked if I was doing something wrong... was I supposed to go to my
parole officer, or would he come to see me, I asked."
Kemper said the man on the phone asked him, "What's
the matter, you got a problem?" When Kemper told him, "no," the man
replied, "Well, we're awfully busy with people who have; we'll get to
you."
Kemper blamed the court for counteracting the plan of
Atascadero doctors to release him in stages geared to get him accustomed
to the world outside again. He said they planned to send him to a
"halfway house" environment where he would still have counseling, have a
chance to get acquainted with girls at social functions and become aware
of persons in his own age group.
"When I got out on the street it was like being on a
strange planet. People my age were not talking the same language. I had
been living with people older than I was for so long that I was an old
fogey."
Instead, Kemper was sent to a California Youth
Authority institution by court order, only to be released abruptly five
months later, paroled to the custody of a mother who was "an alcoholic
and constantly bitched and screamed at me."
Kemper looked down at his hands and said, "She loved
me in her way and despite all the violent screaming and yelling
arguments we had, I loved her, too." "But," he continued, "she had to
manage your life... and interfere in your personal affairs."
He said his mother was a "big, ugly, awkward woman
who was six feet tall and she was always trying to get me to go out with
girls who were just like her... friends of hers from the campus." (His
mother was an administrative assistant at UCSC.)
"I may not be so much to look at myself," Kemper said
with a laugh, "but I have always gone after pretty girls."
All of his hitchhiking coed victims were pretty and,
with the exception of one girl, were small and delicate in stature.
Of his father, he said, "he didn't want me around,
because I upset his second wife. Before I went to Atascadero, my
presence gave her migraine headaches; when I came out she was going to
have a heart attack if I came around."
It was because of that, Kemper said, that he was
"shipped off" to his paternal grandparents to live in "complete
isolation" on a California mountain top with "my senile grandfather" and
"my grandmother who thought she had more balls than any man and was
constantly emasculating me and my grandfather to prove it.
"I couldn't please her... It was like being in
jail... I became a walking time bomb and I finally blew ... It was like
that the second time, with my mother."
Kemper laughed as he recalled an incident with his
grandmother when she left him home alone one day but took his
grandfather's .45 automatic with her in her purse, because she was
afraid he might "play" around with it in her absence. His grandparents
were going to Fresno on a monthly shopping trip. He recalled:
"I saw her big black pocketbook bulging as she went
out the door and I said to myself, 'Why that old bitch, she's taking the
gun with her, because she doesn't trust me, even though I promised I
wouldn't touch it.'"
He said he looked in his grandfather's bureau drawer
and "sure enough the gun was gone from its usual place...
"I toyed with the idea of calling the chief of police
in Fresno and telling him 'there's a little old lady walking around town
with a forty-five in her purse and she's planning a holdup' and then
give him my grandmother's description."
He laughed appreciatively at the idea and asked me:
"How do you suppose she would have talked herself out of that?" There
were moments, prior to her death, when he felt like punishing his
mother, too. Kemper told investigators he had killed his mother to spare
her the suffering and shame that knowledge of his crimes would bring.
But, he said, as he sat in the little room with me:
"There were times when she was bitching and yelling
at me that I felt like retaliating and walking over to the telephone in
her presence and calling the police, to say, 'Hello, I'm the coed
killer,' just to lay it on her."
Kemper's testimony in court revealed his desire to
punish his mother did not end with the fatal hammer blow. He cut off his
mother's head, "put it on a shelf and screamed at it for an hour ...
threw darts at it," and ultimately, "smashed her face in," he recalled
for the horrified court.
Once during the long afternoon, a deputy brought us
in some coffee. Another one came to inquire if Kemper needed any
medication. (Under doctor's orders he was allowed to have tranquillizers
as required and sleeping pills at night.)
The jail nurse also came in while I was there and
changed the bandage on his wrist where he had slashed an artery in one
of his four suicide attempts after his arrest.
"Would you like to see my wound," he said, holding
his arm out to me.
(The cutting instrument he had used to make the
suicidal incision had been fashioned from the metal casing of a ball
point pen I had given him. Jailers at the neighboring San Mateo county
jail, where he was kept for security reasons after two suicide attempts
in Santa Cruz, had failed to remove the pen from his folder of papers
when Kemper returned from court.)
He had previously assured me, "It's not your fault."
He tried to explain his suicide attempts, saying that he did not have a
suicidal feeling when he was first "locked up." Then the "kindness and
respect with which I was treated by the people [jail personnel] after a
while started to get to me ...
"I started feeling like I didn't deserve all that
nice treatment after what I had done ... and I guess that's why I
started cutting myself up."
Kemper also talked about his previous statements
that, if he were sent to prison he would kill someone so he could die in
the gas chamber, and indicated he had had a change of heart.
"I guess you heard me say that I wanted to kill
'Herbie' Mullin, my fellow mass murderer," he said. (The Mullin story,
Chalk Up Another for Mr. Kill-Crazy, appeared in the June, 1973,
issue of INSIDE DETECTIVE.)
"Well, there was a time when I thought it would be a
good solution for everyone.
"It would be good for society and save everyone a
bundle of money. Instead of spending thousands and thousands of dollars
to lock the two of us up for life to protect us from people and people
from us...."
Kemper had told investigators and psychiatrists he
thought he would kill again if he ever were released. He also admitted
under cross examination by District Attorney Peter Chang that he had
fantasized killing "thousands of people," including Chang himself. He
said:
"I figured that if I killed him [Mullin] and then
they sent me to the gas chamber, it would be a good solution to the
problem.
"I know I'd never get a chance to though and I don't
have any intention of killing him or anyone else...."
(Mullin was convicted of two counts of first degree
murder and eight counts of second degree murder in the shooting deaths
of ten persons he killed during a 21-day rampage early in 1973 in Santa
Cruz County. Five of the victims were complete strangers to him. He said
he killed three others in 1972.)
Kemper and Mullin were next-door neighbors in their
security prisoner cellblock at the San Mateo County jail before Mullin
was tried and convicted. Kemper made no secret of his disdain for Mullin
from the first moment of their meeting in San Mateo.
"You're a no-class killer," he taunted him.
During Kemper's trial, under questioning from Chang,
Kemper admitted he had thrown water through the cell bars onto Mullin to
"shut him up when he was disturbing everybody by singing off-key in his
high-pitched, squeaky voice."
Kemper added, though, "When he was a good boy, I gave
him peanuts. He liked peanuts."
Kemper said of the alternate water treatment and the
peanuts, "It was behavioral modification treatment... The jailers were
very pleased with me."
“You know, though," Kemper told me, as he looked out
of the window in the little room, "It really sticks in my craw that
Mullin only got two 'firsts' and I got eight.
"He was just a cold-blooded killer, running over a
three-week period killing everybody he saw for no good reason."
He paused for a moment, then broke into laughter,
saying, "I guess that's kind of hilarious, my sitting here so
self-righteously talking, like that, after what I've done."
When Kemper assured me that he had given up thoughts
of trying to take his own life again, I asked him what he planned to do
with the rest of his years in prison. He told me he knew he would be
locked up in tight security for the first few years and that he thought
he would try to do a lot of reading and studying. "I've always loved
science and math," he said, "and I'd also like to study French and
German.
”After that, I hope, I can find a way to help other
people . . . Maybe they can study me and find out what makes people like
me do the things they do."
(The next morning. Judge Harry F. Brauer sentenced
Kemper to life in prison and told him he was going to recommend "in the
strongest terms possible" that Kemper not be released for "the rest of
your natural life.")
One relationship that obviously has touched Kemper is
that with Bruce Colomy, Santa Cruz County sheriff's deputy. Colomy has
been with Kemper more than any other officer, transporting him to and
from San Mateo County Jail to Santa Cruz for court appearances and
remaining with him at all times when he was out of his cell.
Kemper said of Colomy, only a few years older than
himself, "He's more like a father to me than anyone I have ever known
... He's like the father I wish I had had."
(Deputy Colomy told me later that one of the last
things Kemper did before he left the Santa Cruz courthouse for state
prison was to remove his cherished Junior Chamber of Commerce membership
pin from his coat lapel "and give it to me." The deputy said, "Ed looked
at it for a long time and tears came to his eyes. Then he handed it to
me and said, 'Here, I want you to have it.'")
For all of his seeming ability to relate to people in
an animated and warm exchange, Kemper also has the ability to withdraw
without warning into a kind of frightening reverie, reliving his acts of
violence. I watched it happen.
He had paused in his outpouring of talk about himself
and looked at me curiously.
"You haven't asked the questions I expected a
reporter to ask," he said.
"What do you mean," I replied. "Give me some
examples."
He drawled, "Oh, what is it like to have sex with a
dead body? ... What does it feel like to sit on your living room couch
and look over and see two decapitated girls' heads on the arm of the
couch?" (He interjected an unsolicited answer: "The first time, it makes
you sick to your stomach.")
He continued, "What do you think, now, when you see a
pretty girl walking down the street?"
Again, an unsolicited answer: "One side of me says,
'Wow, what an attractive chick. I'd like to talk to her, date her.'
"The other side of me says, "I wonder how her head
would look on a stick?'"
(The public defender appointed as Kemper's attorney
told jurors in his closing argument: "There are two people locked up in
the body of this young giant, one good and one evil... One is fighting
to be here with us and the other is slipping off to his own little world
of fantasy where he is happy."
"Oh, for God's sake, Ed," I said, just a trifle
piqued by the feeling he was putting me on and hoping that was it, "the
jury found you legally sane and I agree with that. But, at the same
time, I can't help but believe that, as you yourself said, you must have
been sick when you did the things you did.
Kemper, himself, earlier had told me he thought his
actions were that of a "demented person."
"In my estimation," I continued, "it doesn't make any
more sense to ask a delirious patient what he's thinking than it would
to ask you what you were thinking when these things were going on."
Despite that, for the first time, he began to detail
to me how he killed one of his victims. The illustration he chose made
me even more uncomfortable. It was the killing of Mrs. Hallett, not a
coed but a mature woman, like me.
Kemper straightened up in his chair and began a
graphic description. "I came up behind her and crooked my arm around her
neck, like this," he said, bending his powerful arm in front of himself
at chin level.
"I squeezed and just lifted her off the floor. She
just hung there and, for a moment, I didn't realize she was dead ... I
had broken her neck and her head was just wobbling around with the bones
of her neck disconnected in the skin sack of her neck."
He began to wobble his head around, never changing
the position of his arms and gazing fixedly at me. His jail-pale face
had become slightly flushed, his eyes glazed, his breath coming a little
quickly and he stuttered almost imperceptibly as, he spoke.
"Holy Christ," I said to myself, "what am I doing
here?"
I reached for a cigarette in my pocket and said the
first thing that came into my mind to try and change the subject without
showing I was upset. "Have you always been so strong, Ed," I asked in a
nonchalant tone.
"No," he replied. "As a matter of fact..." he relaxed
and then we were off and talking about other more comfortable topics.
The sky outside the windows of the little room had
grown dark and I made efforts to leave, saying I had been "virtually
incommunicado all day as far as my family was concerned and they would
wonder why I had not arrived for dinner."
Kemper was reluctant for me to go. "Well, you can
always tell them later, you have been over talking with Ed Kemper all
afternoon," he laughed.
As it turned out, though, I stayed for dinner with
Ed. The trusty had brought his dinner and it was getting cold. When I
insisted that we should stop talking and that Kemper should eat, the
jailer invited me to stay for dinner.
"Big Ed" urged me to accept and I did. He carried the
trays into the little room himself and arranged them on the desk chairs.
We chatted as we ate and he was the host. He ate hungrily and I noticed
he had finished his rice with meat sauce. I had more than I could eat,
so I offered to share. What seemed like a large portion to me must have
been but a morsel to a large man like him.
He gratefully accepted the added food, but cautioned
me as I scraped it from my tray on to his, "Save some for yourself."
I gave him my milk as well, saying, "I really hate
milk, you can have it."
"Do you?" he said. "I love it."
When dinner was over, I said I must go and, when he
got up and proceeded toward the door, I said, "Do you think you could
knock on the window and get the jailer to spring me, Ed?"
He laughed and replied, "I'll try."
He stood in the doorway, his hair brushing the top of
the door jamb, watching me leave, as if he were graciously bidding a
guest goodbye from his home.
He said to a deputy, "Could I have some matches?" (I
had been lighting his cigarets all afternoon with my lighter.)
The sergeant on duty at the desk said to the deputy,
"He can't have any matches, but light his cigarette for him." Kemper
looked at me and grinned like a teenager. "Yesterday," he said, "I had
matches, but isn't it funny when you're convicted, you immediately
become combustible."
"Well, Ed," I retorted, "if you'd learn to stay out
of trouble, you wouldn't find yourself in these predicaments."