For years after his crimes were committed, the details of serial killer Clifford Olson's cold, calculating massacres were unknown.
The Canadian was sentenced to 11 life sentences for murdering 11 young people in 1980 and 1981. He pleaded guilty to the crimes so there was no trial and the public never got to hear Olson's motives or other aspects of the crimes.
Now, journalist Peter Worthington's new book, "Predator: The Life and Crimes of Serial Killer Clifford Olson" reveals the intricate details of Olson's murders as told by the killer himself in 50 pages of manuscripts describing how he killed and raped each of his victims.
The documents were shown to Worthington by Olson's lawyer, Bob Shantz. As Worthington explains in the book, Olson wanted the writings embargoed until his son turned 21 "so he would better understand his father," the killer explained.
Olson died of cancer in September of last year.
Below is chapter one in three parts, along with highlights.
WARNING: GRAPHIC LANGUAGE BELOW
Olson is immediately revealed as a charming, persuasive 41-year-old.
At first she didn't notice the car that pulled up beside her. The man driving was smiling-- a nice smile. He had dark, wavy hair and eyes that danced. He was wearing neat, sporty clothes and the car was clean.
"Where are you headed?" he asked out the passenger window.
Terri Lynn appraised him. He was older, an adult; not one of the mall creeps, those smart alecky kids who hung around the video center and made suggestive cracks. "I'm waiting for the bus," she said. "I'm going to Guildford."
"Hey, that's where I'm going! Hop in, I'll give you a lift."
Terri hesitated. How often had her mother warned her about hitchhiking? And every kid knew of the dangers of talking to strangers. Terri Lynn wasn't exactly naive. But this person seemed so easygoing and friendly. A nice man. He looked like someone's father, or even older brother.
After Olson's persistent cajoling, Carson eventually got into the car. Once inside, Olson offered her a job where she'd make three times the minimum wage. Carson's mother struggled to make ends meet and the money was enticing, as was the plentiful alcohol that Olson supplied.
"I'd better not have any more. I'm getting drunk," she said.
"Look in the glove compartment. I've got some wake-up pills.
They'll counter the alcohol, so you'll be sober for supper tonight."
"We'll, if you say so . . ."
"I say so, and I'm the boss."
"Okay...boss." They both laughed...
Terri was still feeling drunk. She said she didn't think the anti-drunk pills were working.
"Take three more," the man said. "And while you're at it, give me three too. I've got to stay sober."
"What do they do again?"
"They counteract the alcohol. Here, give me three." He put the three in his mouth.
"Well, so long as you’re sure." Terri washed down three pills with a gulp of vodka and orange juice. When she wasn't looking the man spat the three pills into his hand and put them in his pocket.
Soon enough, Carson was passed out in Olson's car.
Quickly he looked out the car window. The parking lot was empty. Quickly, almost frantically, he pulled down the girl's tight jeans and panties. He undid his own pants and pulled them down to his knees. Without wasting time, he sodomized her, roughly, urgently. It was over in seconds.
Then Olson got out a screwdriver
He crouched forward and put the screwdriver on the crown of her head. For a second he rested it there, looked at the screwdriver, looked at her, looked at the hammer, as if to see if anything would happen. All was serene. Then slowly, deliberately, he raised the hammer, held it poised above the screwdriver. In one motion he drove the hammer at the screwdriver which instantly and seemingly without resistance, plunged into the skull, up to the hilt.
Somehow, Carson was still alive, but not for long.
He dragged Terri over to the shallow creek and placed her face-down in the water. He stood on her back shoulders to keep her head under the water. He slipped, and fell into the foot-deep water. Cursing, he put his foot on the back of Terri's neck, and held her head under while a stream of air came to the surface from her face. Then the bubbles stopped. He kept his foot on her neck for a few moments more, then got off. The body remained motionless.
"Predator" was published Sept. 30, exactly one year after Olson died.
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