The Journal of a Serial Killer

Journal Entry #1
My name is Judicar, though that is not the name I was born with. I started life as John David, but the name that my mother gave me just did not fit with who I have become. I'm not really that good at this kind of stuff, never really had the need to write down my personal thoughts. However, I know that Lt. Detective Isaac Vasiliev, of the "revered" LAPD, is pursuing me, and will, I feel, eventually catch me. He told the press that only a monster could murder people in the fashion that I chose. The arrogance of that man! How can he judge what a person is? If only he shared my point of view.
Perhaps I will enlighten him when we have our inevitable confrontation. Bring him over to my side. I've been seeking an apprentice, his skills would be most suitable; even now he doesn't realize that I am grooming him to carry on my legacy.
At any rate, here is a brief account of my life, my rationale, for some of the supposed "murders" that I have performed over my life. A record of my feelings of the... "cleansings," as I view them. Should I die, I want the people who matter to me to know—to understand—why I had to do this... I am so sorry. For my family and loved ones, though. I make no apologies for what I have done and what I will continue to do until I am inevitably stopped. I have gone too far into the dark side to have any hope of ever returning to the light.
Journal Entry #2
My story begins eight years ago, I was near sixteen years of age. There was this jock at my local high school, Chad Walters was his name. And there was a girl my age, her name is... was... Tanya Williams. She was my best friend, ever since first grade... and I'll admit that I was in love with her. The feeling was not reciprocated, unfortunately, and she decided to date him, despite my protests. Walters was a user of women, you see. I hated that man, and did not want to see Tanya used and discarded by him in such a way. Perhaps I felt that I could treat her better than any man could, if only she would give me the chance.
Anyway, a few dates turned to love, for her, and she ultimately gave herself to him. This made me furious, hating everything, and doubled, no, tripled, my contempt for him. Then it happened. I found out one day that the woman that I loved was sexually assaulted by that lowlife scum. She was the most beautiful woman in the world; how could anyone, how could he, do that to her? Ultimately, she fell into a deep depression, and took her own life. That was the day I was determined to kill Walters, our high school's star quarterback. He was eventually acquitted; the bastards said there was inconclusive evidence.
So I began planning his death; this took months of elaborate scheming. I leaked information specifically for him that there was a party at a local sycophant's home. As I knew he would, the vain jock came to what was supposed to be the party. I was there, of course, and after he barged in the house, I sprang the trap and knocked him into unconsciousness. I relocated his sorry form to an abandoned hunter's outpost and proceeded to torture him. I used various methods, such as using a Taser on him, cutting him, and finally slicing off his manhood before leaving him to die. I made sure there was no evidence that would lead back to me, and the police eventually located Walters' body. They never suspected me of anything, and the case remains unsolved, with me being the only man who knows the truth. This act set me on the path that I'm at today.
Journal Entry #3
I refrained from killing anymore people, and was determined to live life as a normal person would. I went to college, got average grades, wasn't much of a party attender. My mother, God rest her soul, taught me better than that. Never got over the loss of my precious Tanya, however, and never became involved with any other woman. Eventually, I followed this one trial of a mobster, Antonio Giovanizzi, who was known for various crimes—prostitution, drugs, extortion, you name it, this guy was involved in it. The jurors found him not guilty; either he had some pockets lined or the juror's lives were threatened. Either way, I could tell that these guys were scared out of their minds to rule against this pathetic excuse for a life, and I decided that he had lived long enough. I did not live the life of a wealthy man, but I had saved up some money, ever since I was a teenager, really.
Avarice is always a good weapon to use, and I chose this path when I bribed his bodyguards to step away from the mobster's house for as long as I needed. I was careful to conceal my identity with a black cloak and robes, and a mask that was sufficient to cover my entire face. In fact, I actually still use these to this day, and I consider the mask to be my "true" face.
Anyway, I confronted him in his billiard room, and inserted the tip of my katana into his windpipe. It did not kill him instantly, however. I finished him by shoving a dagger which I stole from a member of a competing crime family into his heart and left the house. Apparently, dinner was soon, and his relatives were due to arrive shortly. I can only imagine their shock as they saw him drenched in a pool of his own blood. The repercussions of this event were swift, and the competing families destroyed each other, as I had orchestrated. I tipped off the police—God bless the "anonymous" system—and they arrived in time to witness the massacre. Just thinking about the carnage gives me a sense of pride, in the fact that I did what the police, what the corrupt system that is the law in this country, failed to do: stop these murderers, these bloodsuckers. However, the drive to kill grew more and more.
Journal Entry #4
I then turned to roaming the streets of New York City, and began looking for any sign of trouble. On one occasion, a thug held up a convenience store, with the pathetic cashier giving him the money. I was disguised, of course, and this was the dead of night, so I butchered the perpetrator in front of the poor sap. He asked me who I was before I left the store, but I refused to give him an answer. Anyway, no doubt the clerk's getting help from a shrink, the psychological damage that comes from watching a masked individual disemboweling and beheading another human being would be too much, I would imagine, for the majority of the population. Another time, same scenario, though I derived pleasure from the kill more since the man was a would-be rapist. Not sure if that poor woman will ever get over the trauma of witnessing the man's death... I think that perhaps I enjoyed myself a bit too much, but that's what men who perform this type of action deserve.
Journal Entry #5
I tire of recalling my cleansings, now I wish to go over my modus operandi (that's "method of operations," for the idiots reading this). Anyway, as noted above, I wear black robes and a cloak, and use a gray and red-colored mask to conceal my identity. I mainly use a katana, only one. I find guns to be too impersonal, though I occasionally use a Walther P-99, silenced, of course. To me, nothing beats the visceral feeling of cutting into a perpetrator's flesh. But I make sure that when I do use the P-99, that no fingerprints are left. Honestly, do you think that I've been able to evade capture for eight years without covering my tracks? Poison is a subtle method, but I use it sparingly, only when I really don't have any choice. When I end the life of a deserving individual, it usually is through brutal methods, such as the recollections listed above.
Now a brief summary of my feelings. I don't think of myself as a hero... though it is surprising that some in the public who have heard of the murders believe I am something of a hero. I just feel that the justice system in this country, America, is a complete joke. Of course, I have first-hand experience with this system, if you haven't been reading. So I am something of a brutal vigilante, a renegade, but should the police ever catch me, I won't deny that I committed the crimes, and will pay the consequences, most likely via lethal injection. Hell, with all the things I've done, I wouldn't be surprised if they gassed, shot, or guillotined me. I certainly will not be accepted in the world to come, despite Mother's pleadings to God. That is... fine, I have come to peace with my fate. As long as Mother and Tanya will be there, safe and sound... And for the record, none of this is God's fault, He gave us each a free will.
Journal Entry #6
I have committed my last cleansing for a while, decided to leave good Lt. Vasiliev a calling card. Told him that I will turn myself in, only if he met me at an abandoned building in East Los Angeles; this is where I'm based now, of course. I instructed him to come alone, though I also wrote that he could bring any weapons he wanted. Most likely he'll bring an assault rifle. Depending on the results of my confrontation with him, this might be my last entry. If he joins me in my cleansing efforts, everything will proceed as planned. If not, I will ask him to leave a final entry in here, which means I'll be bringing these records along. If my calculations are correct, he will join me... It's time to for an ending, one way or another.
Journal Entry #7
I... I don't know where to begin. I guess my name would be a good start. I am Isaac Vasiliev, a Lt. Detective serving the Los Angeles Police Department. I confronted David—I refuse to call him Judicar—in the abandoned building, armed with an assault rifle. He appeared of normal build, and he was clad in dark black robes with a cloak, and a gray and red mask that he normally used to conceal his face. As I approached him, he took off the mask, revealing a man of normal appearance, bearded, brown hair. The only thing that wasn't normal was his eye color, which was a sulfuric yellow and blood red. My guess is that David either did not know about this or did not care. He impressed me as a person who loves to strike fear in his victims, a man who truly believed his mask was his identity.
When I told David to surrender, he told me that he wanted to talk with me. I had him at gunpoint, and figured there wouldn't be too much harm in him talking, so I let him give a brief account of his life, most of which David recorded here. He told me of his love Tanya's rape, and how the bastard that assaulted her was acquitted. Being a father of two daughters, I could understand David's pain. But that did not give him the right to butcher the rapist.
He attempted to convince me to join him, to aid him in his efforts to clean the streets the way the system is not doing. I must admit... I was tempted to join David. I've been hunting him down for three long years, and every single one of his victims were people who were committing vile acts. But I ultimately refused. See, David was the most dangerous type of criminal: one who is totally convinced that what he is doing is right. I proceeded to ask him whether or not Tanya would want him killing these people. He demanded that I leave her out of this, but I pressed the issue, and he attacked me. After a brief struggle, I gained the upper hand and dealt the mortal blow with his own katana. Before David died, he requested that I leave a final entry in this journal. Now that I have fulfilled that wish, I just can't believe all the things that I've read. This man needed help, simple as that. But David was wrong... You cannot go around killing criminals in such a manner as he did. You cannot take the law into your own hands! That is not justice. Also, what David stated in this journal about Hashem giving us free will... that is the truth, but it is no excuse for David's actions, just as there is no excuse for the actions of his victims.
I went through all the cases, all of David's murders. There were electrical burns on the body of his first victim, Chad Walters. There were also cuts all over his arms and legs. And, as David mentioned here, Walters' manhood was gone; it appeared to have been sawed off with a knife, and David took his time to cut it off, as well. Giovanizzi, the mobster that David killed, was also slain brutally. Unbeknownst to David, Giovanizzi's 6-year old daughter, who was hidden in the mobster's billiard room's closet playing a game of hide-and-seek with her father, witnessed the viciousness of David's murder of her father. When I interviewed her, she could do nothing more than draw pictures of what she saw. She has not spoken a word to anyone in the last two years, no child should have to go through that! And David did no favors for that woman who was about to be raped, he essentially traded one horror for another. She described him as a masked demonic figure, coming out of nowhere, and who appeared to derive an immense pleasure when he separated the man's body parts all over the alley, leaving her bathed in his blood. She had to be committed to a hospital, and I believe she's still a patient there.
What concerns me is what he said about me earlier in this journal, about him "grooming" me as his potential apprentice. This might mean that he has other disciples, so I'll have to watch diligently... I don't think I will give this journal to what remaining family he has, if any. And I'll take David's body far from here, perhaps in the mountains, and burn it. No one needs to know David's identity. Hell, I might just burn this record along with him. I can finally rest knowing that the horror has ended, though I doubt I'll ever sleep normally again, not after this ordeal.
Category:Bad Creepypasta
Category:Jornel
Category:Pages with grammar that doesn't suck
Category:Pointless Violence