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  ...presents...            Alvin Harper, Teen Killer
                                                         by Krass Katt

                      >>> a cDc publication.......1994 <<<
                        -cDc- CULT OF THE DEAD COW -cDc-
  ____       _     ____       _       ____       _     ____       _       ____
 |____digital_media____digital_culture____digital_media____digital_culture____|

     The following is a transcript of an interview with teen killer Alvin
Harper, accused in the murder of his aunt, Thelma Kidd.  Harper is a slightly
built youth, seemingly incapable of the crimes of which he has been accused.
As is the case with all these type of interviews, the dialogue by the police
has been left out, leaving only the words of the suspect.
 ______________________________________________________________________________

     "My name is Alvin Harper, and I make this statement of my own free will.

     Listen, do you think they're going to send me to prison?  God, I'm only
16, but they said they were going to try me as an adult.  Oh, shit!  What am I
going to do?

     You have to understand, this woman was the most sadistic person I have
heard of or met in my life.  When Mom died, she stipulated that she wanted me
to go and live with Thel.  I knew she was an alcoholic, and I know she had been
through two bad marriages, but she had always treated me well.  I guess you
really don't know someone until you live under the same roof.  Had I known what
she was really like, I'd have surely run away.

     She used to beat me any time and for any reason.  Mom died when I was 12,
and life was complicated enough, but she slapped me right after I moved in with
her for saying I missed Mom.  She said 'She's dead, and it's time you moved on
with life.  Dead!!  Do you understand?!'  I just thought I had caught her at a
bad moment. but it was only the first in a long string of violent episodes.
She was a big woman, as you probably know, 5' 10", and she outweighed me by 80
pounds.

     I was a real good student up until this tragedy.  I was making all A's in
my studies, but I wasn't any good at organized sports.  She said if I didn't
improve my grades in gym, she was going to punish me.  That's how she referred
to any kind of abuse, as my punishment.  Sure enough, when I got my report
card, I had a D in gym.  She grabbed me by the wrist and twisted it as she
dragged me over to the stove.  It was one of those electric ones, and she
placed my palm on it, then turned it on.  You can see the scar.

[At this point, Harper holds out his hand.  Indeed, there is a large burn scar
on the palm.]

     One time, I forgot to take out the trash, and she came up on me, quietly.
She moved like a cat for a large woman, at least when she was sober.  Anyway,
she snuck up on me and punched me in the ear.  My equilibrium was off for
nearly a week, and my hearing is still affected from it.  This is no isolated
condition.  It happened with frightening regularity.

     Why didn't I report her to the authorities?  Aren't you listening to me?
The woman was dangerous, sadistic!!  You know as well as I do that Protective
Services usually ends up returning kids to their parents or guardians after the
most perfunctory of investigations.  And where would I be then?  In the hands
of an angry sadist.

     OK, I'm getting to it!  So that last night, I was late coming home from
school.  I tried to sneak in, but it looked like I had lucked out, and Aunt
Thel wasn't home.  I crossed the kitchen when I felt this stinging on my back,
like I had been stung by the world's biggest bee, and I turned to find her
holding a belt by the wrong end, so the buckle was the portion that struck me.
She swung again, and again, and had me on the floor, with my arm up in a
half-hearted attempt to defend myself.

     When I awoke, I didn't know how long I had been out.  It was dark now, and
I was bleeding from several gashes on my back.  The bitch had left me there on
the floor, and it was cold while at the same time the raw skin on my back was
burning.  Out in the living room, I could hear the TV going, and I saw a
half-empty bottle of whiskey hanging from her limp arm.  Drunk again, and
hadn't even checked to see how I was.  That was when I decided to do what I
did.

     I dragged myself up from the floor with a lot of pain.  Look at this!"

[He lifts up his shirt, and there are several long streaks of bruised flesh,
giving an indication of how bad they must have been 10 days ago at the time of
the murder.]

     Anyway, I dragged myself to my feet, and went to the kitchen and got into
the utensil drawer.  I took out the ice pick and started off into the living
room.  It was at this time that I almost talked myself out of it.  But a drop
of blood had flowed all the way from my back to my fingertips, and fell all the
way to the floor.  I looked at it, and thought if I didn't do something soon,
she was going to kill me.

     As I entered the living room, I could hear her snoring softly.  The area 
around her head was cloying with the smell of alcohol fumes and halitosis.  As
a heavy drinker, that aroma was not uncommon.  Her gums were receding from the
constant burning away of skin from drinking straight whiskey, and her breath
smelled like she ate carrion for breakfast, all the time.  Her head was bent
slightly forward, and I plunged the ice pick into the back of her neck.  It was
eerie.  Her pelvis lifted off the chair with such force that it jerked the pick
out of my hand as she flew out of the chair and landed on her belly on the
floor.  I thought at first that she was dead, but then I heard her making
mewling type sounds.  I must have hit some nerve or something, because she
seemed to be paralyzed, though she still seemed to have feeling.  I poked her
in the leg with the ice pick, and sure as hell, she made that mewling sound
again.  For just a moment, I thought about calling an ambulance.

     Yeah, you're right.  I should have let it go at that.  But something just
came over me when I realized that she was helpless, and all the old anger from
years of abuse.  I remember everything, but was out of control of my faculties.
I was no more able to stop the next sequence of events than I would be to stop
my bladder function.

     I dragged her limp form to a sitting position.  She could barely sit up
because of her stomach being so big, but since she was paralyzed, I was able to
force her into a sitting position, although there was much creaking of
stretched muscles and cracking vertebrae.  She looked at me with the same
pleading look I had given her when she had beaten me.  Her head was lolled over
to one side, and a thin run of spit ran out of the side of her mouth.  I leaned
toward her, smiled, and spit right in her eye.  It ran down the side of her
face.  Then, I took a step back, and reared back and kicked her directly in the
center of her chest.  She went back and hit her head on the floor.  I looked in
her eyes.  She was awake.

     Why did I sodomize her?  Revenge, I guess.  It seemed the ultimate insult
to someone who had caused me so much pain.  She seemed to be trying to scream,
whether in pain or shame, I guess we'll never know.  And to be honest, it
doesn't matter, as long as it was pain, emotional or physical.

     No, I guess I wasn't done yet.  I dragged her and into the kitchen.  As I
said, she was a big woman, but I had never felt so physically strong.  I draped
her fat ass face down over one of the kitchen chairs.

[Note: The suspect is becoming agitated as he tells this part of his story.]

     By this time, I was out of control.  I wanted to be sure she was still
with me, so I heated up a kitchen knife and applied it to her left nipple,
which was hanging over the chair.  She had big tits.  Not nice tits, but big
saggy ones that went with the rest of her big saggy body.  Anyway, she was
still with me.  The heat applied to the nipple brought the loudest noise I had
heard from her since she was hitting me with that goddamned belt.  I couldn't
think of what to do next, and as I looked down at her big fat ass, with the old
stained sphincter staring up at me, I decided to finish her in the most vile
way I could think of.

[Suspect is breathing hard, and flushed.  I ask him if he wants to rest.  He
says no, and we continue.]

     So, I go to the cabinet and take out the cooking lard.  I spread it all
over my right arm, up to the elbow.  Then I slathered it all over her asshole.
I thought about just reaching in and yanking her fucking colon out, but she
deserved more than that.  At this point, I couldn't let her off easy.  So, I
spread her cheeks and just started punching at her sphincter.  I wondered if
the lard would allow my clenched fist inside.  I just kept punching as hard as
I could, until I lost count.  I was caught up in some sort of frenzy, and I
just kept punching.  I was about to give up, when the wall of her rectum caved
in, and my fist slid inside her.  Problem was, my thumb was bent back when my
arm had entered the rectal cavity, and it was stuck.  It felt as if it was
badly torn, too.  I tried to pull my arm out, but the pain was so intense I
couldn't move my arm more than an inch in either direction.

     So what am I supposed to do?  I gritted my teeth and pulled as hard as I
could.  I could see the blood, probably mixed with her shit, dripping out of
the opening of her asshole where my fist was buried.  I started to panic,
because I was afraid of bile and poison getting into my bloodstream from the
open wound.  So, I put my foot against her ass, held my breath, and yanked as
hard as I could.

     The last mental reaction I had was to squeeze my hand shut, and as my hand
exited her rectum, it closed onto a handful of flesh, and although it was
probably the most pain I have ever felt, including the beatings that bitch gave
me, I was rewarded with about a foot and a half of that cunt's colon hanging
out of her ass.

     Then, I looked in her eyes.  They were still open, but the light had gone
out of them.  She was dead.  I was unsure of what to do then.  So, I called you
guys.

     Remorse?  No.  I feel no remorse."
 ______________________________________________________________________________

     Alvin Harper was convicted of first degree murder, sodomy and aggravated
assault.  He was found criminally insane, and sentenced to the psychiatric unit
of Vacaville Prison in Central California.
 ______________________________________________________________________________
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  (' ')  |            Save yourself!  Go outside!  DO SOMETHING!            |
   (U)   |==================================================================|
  .ooM   |Copyright (c) 1994 cDc communications and Krass Katt.             |
\_______/|All Rights Reserved.                               08/01/1994-#271|

