"The Castrator" Part One

So far he had killed 3 males in various parts of the city, each time castrating his victims and writing the number of the murders in

the victims blood at the crime scene.

A case that left all male cops feeling uneasy about trying to catch this killer, I welcomed the thrill of the hunt to solve this case. Who was this person, where would he strike next,

questions that ran through my mind. The sun was starting to set that evening when the phone rang at another officers desk and he directed the call to my phone.

I answered it, and on the other end of the phone was a woman who was frantic that someone was attacking her boyfriend. I got the address and raced to my car.

Could this be the Serial Killer we were after? I drove to the apartment complex where the call came from and ran to apartment # 16. I knocked on the door and the unshut door slowly opened.

Sitting in the middle of the room on the floor was a young woman crying hysterically. I announced that I was a cop and asked her if she made the call. She told me she did, that someone had broke into the apartment and attacked her boyfriend.

A fight broke out and the attacker fled to the roof, and her boyfriend chased him up there.

I drew my weapon and headed up the stairwell toward the roof.

I opened the door to the roof, it was a cool dark night. I turned and over toward the edge of the rooftop I saw what appeared to be a tall dark figure wearing a trenchcoat.

He was kneeling over the body of a male who was laying flat on his back with his pants down to his ankles. I called out for the attacker to “FREEZE!”

He stood, turned to me, He was wearing a dark ski-mask, I could not see his face. Neither of us moved for a second. I aimed my weapon at him and instructed him to “Step away from the body.”

He stared at me for a second, took one step toward the edge of

the building and stepped off.

I could not believe what I just saw. I ran to the edge of the building and looked over. A large bungee cord was attached to the man, and at the precise time he was about to hit the sidewalk below, the cord reached its maximum length, and the man undid the

bungee cord from his waist and fled the scene.

I turned to the victim and noticed that the young man had his pants pulled down to his ankles and was castrated. He had apparently died from bleeding to death from the wound.

Next to him, written in blood was a large number “4”. His girlfriend appeared from the stairwell door and ran to him, dropping to her knees and cried frantically over her boyfriends body.

The next day I was at the office when the postman came around to my desk and handed me plain looking envelope with only my name on it. I asked him where it came from and he told me that someone in the hall asked him to bring it to me. I opened the letter and in bold letters it read “DON’T FUCK WITH ME!”. I turned the letter in as evidence in the case and we ran it for fingerprints but it came back clean.

I went home that evening and tried to unwind. My husband Brett listened to my stories of the day and helped me relax with a soothing backrub before bed. The next morning, I received a call

from the department informing me that a local convenient store night clerk was found castrated in the bathroom by a customer wanting to pay for gasoline.

I went to the crime scene and entered the store. Inside the bathroom was the body of a young male employee who, like the

other victims, had his pants down to his ankles laying in a pool of blood and his testicles had been cut from his groin. On the mirror, written in blood was the number “5”.

My heart sank. This killer had to be stopped.

I ordered the viewing of the convenient store security cameras. Back at Police Headquarters, officials and myself watched the videos and sure enough about 3:12am a tall man in a

dark trenchcoat entered the store.

He pointed a gun at the employee and ordered him into the bathroom. They entered and the door closed behind them. Since no Security monitors were allowed in public restrooms we have no idea

what actually happened during the attack.

As we continued to watch the surveillance videos, at 3:26 the tall figure wearing the dark trenchcoat came out of the bathroom with blood all over himself. He was holding a knife in his right hand,

and something else in his left. He walked over to the microwave oven, opened the door, placed something into the oven, closed the door, turned it on, and left the building.

We all looked at each other in disbelief.

We went back to the convenient store (still being cleaned by detectives) and went to the microwave oven. I opened the door and inside were two small pieces of cooked fleshy meat. I placed them into a bag and labeled them for evidence. As I was leaving the store I noticed there was a security monitor outside the building watching the gasoline pumps. I ordered that this tape be viewed also.

As I watched the video, I fast forwarded it to 3:10am and sure enough a dark blue pickup truck pulled into the gas station and by some sheer luck of fate the vehicle was parked at an angle

where I had a clear view of the license plate number. I whispered to myself “I’ve got you now you son-of-a-bitch”.

Back at headquarters we ran the license number through the files and we got the name of Lee Zorg. We ran the name through the computer and found his address. We requested

a search warrant for his home and when it was granted, we immediately moved out to the location.

Police cars lined the street and officers including myself surrounded the home.

When calls for anyone inside to come out were unanswered we busted down the front door and entered the house. No one was home and nothing was out of place or suspicious.

It appeared to be a normal looking house. I was angry and disappointed that nothing was found…until…;

I opened a file cabinet that was hidden behind a pile of neatly

stacked clothing.

Inside were all kinds of newspapers and clippings on “the Castrator” murders. No regular person would strike this kind of interest as much as this person unless they were thriving on the attention they were receiving from the media.

We took the papers and clippings in as evidence and put 24 hour surveillance on the house.

The next day at the office, I was working hard on the leads we

were receiving and I went to the coffee pot for a cup of coffee. When I returned to my desk, laying on the desk was

another plain looking envelope with my name on it. I looked around to see if anyone was near or watching me, but nothing was suspicious.

I opened the letter and once again in big bold letters it read; “I WARNED YOU BITCH!”

((To be continued))