The Golfer

I was only 15 when it all began. I had the whole world before me and a "bright promising future" playing golf, but one week after my 15th birthday, everything changed. 
Some friends and I had decided to go to the course and mess around. It wasn't an uncommon thing for us to do at all. In fact, most weekends we would be out at the course, weather permitting of course. Anyway, that day we decided to take my dad's truck rather than ride our bikes all the way out to there. Yeah it's illegal, but we were teenagers, and teenagers are invincible right? Besides, my old man had been teaching me how to drive it; and it is better to ask forgiveness than permission right? In any case, we took the truck and headed out to the golf course. We never really played a serious round when we were together. Usually we just wanted to see who could hit the long ball, or who could hit James when we were chipping. 
James was a small nerdy kid who worked around the driving range. We'd been fucking with him for a long time because he had come out of the closet when we were all 13. Hell, by now he was probably so used to us flipping him shit that he didn't notice but it was always a good laugh to see him duck and run when the golf balls came sailing toward him. At least until that one afternoon...
The game was going as usual and as we played up hole #9, which runs parallel with the driving range, we saw James picking up balls. We all glanced at one another and laughed as I dropped a ball down and grabbed my wedge. Poor son-of-a-bitch never saw it coming. One minute the ball is sailing in the air, and the next we see James twitch and fall to the ground. Finally one of us had hit him! We all stood laughing and high fiving over the accomplishment. We then noticed that James hadn't gotten up yet. I told the other two to finish out the game and I'd meet them at the truck as I ran to see if he was ok.
When I got to James, I noticed that there was blood coming out of his head. I shook him a little to see if there was any reaction. He groaned a little bit and I sighed in relief. As his eyes opened I noticed they were completely blacked out by his pupils. "Shit," I thought, "I fucked him up pretty bad". First I thought about taking him to the hospital but didn't want to explain how this had happened. I couldn't just leave him there, and I know that if I took him back to the truck my friends would never let me hear the end of it. I'd be called bitch, lover boy, and all kinds of shit for the rest of my life. It was then that I decided to kill him. It was as if his black eyes could see directly into my soul and discover the darkest secrets I held. I had to make sure no one knew these things about me, especially not him. I stood up and looked around. The guys had finished and were back at the truck waiting. I had to make this quick. I raised my wedge above my head and brought it down as hard as I could into the side of James' head. I struck right against the temple and saw his body go limp. I felt for a pulse and found nothing. I even felt for his breathing but there was none. Knowing I wasn't the only person on the course that day, I hurried to grab my clubs and get to the truck, leaving James there all alone, dead.
That was just the beginning though. It was as if I had now developed a thirst for blood. It has been 7 years since I killed James at the golf course. In that time I have killed 10 more people. All of them were strangers from the city not far from where I live. All of them with a different style. I've strangled, slashed, gashed, shot, bludgeoned, drowned, and gassed people until I found exactly what "gets me off". I have to admit, this method won't be an inexpensive one, but then again, what hobby is?
This was taken from a letter delivered to the Rhode Island State Troopers in 2002. After searching for unsolved murder cases between 1995 and 2002, police found 11 cases. They were all killed in different manners except for the last three. Those three were struck in the face (always the left) and then had the handle of a golf club shoved down their throats. The victims in all 11 cases were male, between 13 and 17 years of age, and all named James.
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