The Criminal Mind: A Case of Family Murder

“I got my mother’s number and talked to her a little bit. I decided to head back home and turn myself in. I figured I’d just come back and just walk in the cop shop.” He chuckled.

He made it as far as a small town just outside of Savannah. “I’m completely broke, and I’m not wanting to do crime. I don’t want to hurt anybody. I don’t want to draw attention to myself. I hear about this bar is opening.

“I go to this bar, and I called Lieutenant Markus. He’s head of homicide in my hometown. I’m at a grand opening of this bar. I told him, ‘I’m out tonight. I’ll get with you tomorrow and turn myself in.’”

Alan hustled drinks all night and met a woman. “I couldn’t get a hard on,” he said. “I’m taking all this speed. I didn’t want to screw her anyway. We messed around for a minute. I left.” He sat in someone’s car and smoked pot with people he’d just met in the bar. The car’s owner put a stash of pot in the glove box, and they all went back to the bar.

“Later, Alan said, “F**k it,” and popped the car’s lock with a coat hanger he got from the bar’s coat room, grabbed the reefer, and zoomed off into the night.

In the morning, he had breakfast at a pancake house. He ordered a cheeseburger and fries. The place was loaded with cops. “This is the cop eating place,” he said. “Cop cars, unmarked cop cars, the whole damn restaurant’s loaded with cops.

“I got my duffel bag. I throw it behind a floor plant in the corner. It was an hibiscus, I think. In bloom. There’s no back door. That’s fine. I order up this meal. I eat some of it. I go in the back. I call my uncle. I’m talking to my uncle and my grandma.

“I call this Lieutenant Markus. I called his home. His wife answered. She knew who I was. I talked to him. I told him where I was. His old Army buddy or maybe Navy or somebody is the chief of homicide not too far away. He says he’s going to have him come and pick me up.”

The lieutenant assured Alan there wouldn’t be anything stupid. No foul play. “Fine,” Alan said. “This is where I’m at. Come get me.” He waited. He talked on the phone to his mother, his uncle, and his grandmother.

“I’m waiting,” he said. “Man, I’m waiting. I’m waiting. I go back in the bathroom. I had this little bit of this reefer left. I had a couple of joints and stuff. Strange how you do things. Cops are coming to pick me up for four f**king homicides.

“I finish the pot I had. I threw my pot pipe in the garbage and stuff because, hey, I didn’t want them to bust me with pot.”

Finally the cops got there. “I was ready to leave,” Alan said. “I was ready to say, ‘F**k it.’ I didn’t have the money to pay for the meal, and this place is loaded with cops. I was getting tired of waiting for them.

“Well, they showed up. They came in. They came back. I’m back there on the phone. They frisk me. They take me out, pay for the meal, and grab my duffel bag. All these cops in the restaurant are really looking then. They take me to the county jail for a couple days. I waived extradition. That was that.” Alan’s mother has the teddy bears.

Alan has had time to reflect on the murders and the consequences. He realized that he could’ve taken a 12-year prison term for the killing of Portia on what he thought would have been a manslaughter charge. If he had stopped there, the children and Emily would have had a life. Emily might even have raised them.

“I’d rather have the kids alive and Emily alive even if they were disconnected from my life,” he said.

Alan thought he was an intelligent person and not a moron. “I see more morons doing time than intelligent people. Of course most intelligent people don’t put themselves in prison.”

Alan summed up his life. “I just have to step back with a pompous amount of pride and say, God, with all things considered. I turned out pretty well, other than that bad weekend. I mean that was really f**ked up, killing your family, but other than that one incident [He thought for a few seconds.] I don’t know, I seem to be not too bad off.”