Resultado de "Brian Lee Tucker" em Todas as categorias

I have had a lot of people ask me what my fascination is with serial killers, or murder in general. My answer has always been the same: I have absolutely no fascination with this subject matter at all, only simple curiosity as to how and why all of these killers became what they were. In the '70s, as a teenager, true-crime magazines filled the corner news stands and the supermarket checkout lanes, and what few channels we could receive through our home antenna were always showcasing the latest news on the rampage by killers.

Over the last few years, I have done an extensive amount of research into many serial killers. A lot of them have shared common traits, such as childhood abuse, bed-wetting, starting fires, and animal cruelty. Then again, some of them have not shared any common traits at all, yet have committed the same type of heinous crimes. But, one common trait a lot of them have shared is their propensity for making really, really dumb and stupid mistakes that resulted in their capture - when they possessed a relatively high IQ.

The revolving door for convicted, violent felons has to stop. Each year, more and more and more violent felons are constantly chewed up and spit back out into our society again and again, in no way rehabilitated, and carrying a grudge on their shoulders for being locked up to begin with. They are like a human time bomb, just waiting to explode, and won't hesitate to take as many innocent victims as they can down with them. Why? Because our current judicial system is a joke. But it can change - if we speak out.

Jeffrey loved fire. Since he was a little boy, he would see fire trucks racing down the street with their lights flashing and sirens blaring and he'd hop on his bike and chase them down and watch the fire burn. He would sit there on his bike and smile as he took it all in, and wished he, himself, could have been involved in their misery. To this day, nobody really knows where Jeffrey went wrong, but wrong he went, and unfortunately, innocent people went down with him. One of those innocents was a beautiful young girl named Jill Slater.

Other than rape or pedophilia, I can't think of a worse crime than patricide. The killing of one's own father or mother, the two people who gave you life and love and nurtured you and took care of you is, to me, an unforgivable crime. For example, the case of Jeremy L. Vennard, who, on August 8, 2001, killed his own father and stepmother in cold blood - and for no real apparent reason. There had been no history of abuse at the hands of his father or stepmother. No history of any reason whatsoever why he would have felt compelled to murder them.

Based on real-life events, author Brian Lee Tucker provides us with an in-depth view into what can happen when an online friendship is carried too far and too fast, and results in sudden and bloody violence. Are social media platforms like Facebook and Myspace still being used for a hunting ground for online predators? Statistics - and this story - say yes. 

In Love and Bullets, author Brian Lee Tucker offers up an in-depth view into his own personal experience with blue collar crime. In 1991, he began dating the woman of his dreams - only to be unwittingly thrust into a real-life nightmare that would almost claim his life in the end. He would end up trying to defend his girlfriend and himself against a deranged military veteran and serial stalker who was intent on seeing the author either break up with her, or end up with a bullet in his head.

Believe it or not, female stalkers - and killers - are more prominent in our society than males. Now, although they are more likely to go after members of their own gender, if they find a male they are fixated on, as in the case with Donna and I, they will go after the male gender instead - and often with devastating results.

Unlike his cohort in crime, Henry Lee Lucas, Ottis Elwood Toole didn't make a habit of lying about this crimes - unless, of course, it was to save his own skin. More often than not, if he told you he had just killed someone in some unspeakable, horrific way, you could just about bank on the fact he was telling the truth. Then again, what would you expect from a self-admitted killer, grave robber, transvestite, arsonist, and cannibal?

Henry lee Lucas was a serial killer, there's no doubt about that fact. But, as far as his seemingly endless barrage of confessions were concerned, the validity of a lot of those confessions was questionable at best. But whether it is true or not, I hope this story will help clear up at least some of the mystery behind his long list of confessions.

Every small town has a Brent Brand. Maybe they aren’t killed. Perhaps they were just beaten badly, were harassed to suicide, or just vanished. It’s difficult to find a little rural town without some gossip about a Smear the Queer game that got out of hand, or about the homosexual who was “taught a lesson”, came home black-and-blue and never spoke about it, or mysteriously disappeared.

When Rob and Charlene Spierer dropped their daughter, Lauren, off at Indiana University in 2009, they felt she was in a safe place and had nothing at all to worry about. But what they didn't know was Bloomington had its dark side, an underground culture of booze and drugs and a totally carefree and careless lifestyle - of which, unknown to them, Lauren had become a part. But...was it true? Had she really become involved in this culture, or was it all simply rumors started by someone who was wanting to cover up the real truth?

In the last 30-plus years, gay men and women in Indiana have been raped, beaten, and murdered. Last year in Indiana, a Catholic Priest was attacked and beaten while praying in a church. A Jewish synagogue was vandalized with anti-Semitic graffiti, and another church was plastered with racist and homophobic banners. Murder suspect Steven Leyendecker was the poster boy for a good profile makeup.

In this book, you will come face to face with some of the most vicious, depraved, remorseless serial killers in history - but, I'm quite sure you will want to keep listening until the very bloody, bitter end. I know...you just can't help yourself. And neither can I.

Carl Eugene Watts was an American serial killer who was also dubbed the “Sunday morning slasher". He was suspected of killing at least 100 people between 1969 and 1982. Even as a child, Watts had been described as being “very strange” by his neighbors - and even family members. At the tender age of 12, Watts, to the horror of his family and others who knew him, admitted he had been having “fantasies” about stalking, kidnapping, and murdering young girls.

The smell of blood - death - was almost overwhelming to his senses. Not that he wasn't used to it; he was almost the personification of decomposition, of death incarnate. He was pain and misery. This was his special gift in life. He killed without remorse or regret.

Samuel Little, the son of a local prostitute, had already begun his career as a criminal - and murderer - by the time he was a teenager. By 1975, Little had been arrested 26 times, in 11 different states, for the crimes of theft, assault, rape, attempted rape, and even physical battery on government officials. Believe it or not, he was just getting started. 

The horrific crimes had authorities and local Monroe City, Indiana, residents alike dumbfounded, as well as terrified for years, due to the brutal and vicious nature of the crimes. Sherry Gibson had been beaten and stabbed dozens of times and raped - the crime so brutal it made some of the Charles Manson murders of 1969 look almost tame in comparison. To add insult to injury, the barn was then set ablaze by Gibson's assailants, in hopes she'd burn up, therefore, leaving no trace of evidence for police. 

He raised his head to look her right in the eyes. What she saw behind those eyes wasn't Lee anymore; it was now a dark, evil, inhuman monster lurking deep in his soul. Lee wasn't there anymore. The real Lee was there now. He said, You stupid little whore. You're just like my mama and all the other whores. You don't appreciate nothin'.

He loved the dead. His favorite song was “I Love the Dead” by rock singer Alice Cooper, and he listened to it every time he got a chance. The strange thing about his mother was, he still loved her - in his own special way. He hated her and loved her and loathed her and then missed her. Fantasized about her. Yes...he loved the dead.