The Suicide Letter of Israel Keyes

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On December 2, 2012, Israel Keyes took his own life in an Anchorage, Alaska jail cell after confessing to killing at least eight people across the United States. He was awaiting trial for the murder of Samantha Koenig, a teenage clerk he abducted from a coffee stand where she worked.

Keyes committed suicide by cutting his wrists and strangling himself with a bed sheet. When his body was discovered a blood-soaked, four-page letter, written on yellow legal pad paper in ink and pencil, was found under his body.

Police were unable to read the letter in the state in which it was found. The letter was processed by experts at the FBI to make it more readable, but parts of it are still illegible. View the original letter.

Following is the deciphered text of Keyes' "Ode to Murder," as one investigator called it.

Keyes Suicide Letter:


Where will you go, you clever little worm, if you bleed your host dry?

Back in your ride, the night is still young, streetlights push back the black I neat rows. Off to the right a graveyard appears, lines of stones, bodies molder below. Turn away quick, bob your head to the seat, as straight through that stop sign you roll loaded truck with lights off slams into you broadside, your flesh smashed as metal explodes.

You may have been free, you loved living your lie, fate had its own scheme crushed like a bug you still die.

With Your Brain Died Also Your Soul


Soon, now, you'll join those ranks of dead or your ashes the wind will soon blow. Family and friends will shed a few tears, pretend it's off to heaven you go.

But the reality is you were just bones and meat, and with your brain died also your soul.

Send the dying to wait for their death in the comfort of retirement homes, quietly/quickly say "it's for the best" it's best for you so their fate you'll not know. Turn a blind eye back to the screen, soak in your reality shows. Stand in front of your mirror and you preen, in a plastic castle you call home.

Land of the free, land of the lie, land of scheme Americanize! Consume what you don't need, stars you idolize, pursue what you admit is a dream, then it's American die.

Land of the Scheme


Get in your big car, so you can get to work fast, on roads made of dinosaur bones. Punch in on the clock and sit on your ass, playing stupid ass games on your phone. Paper on your wall, says you got smarts. The test that you took told you so, but you would still crawl like the vermin you are, once your precious power grids blown.

Land of the free, land of the lie, land of the scheme, Americanize.

Now that I have you held tight I will tell you a story, speak soft in your ear so you know that it's true. You're my love at first sight and though you're scared to be near me, my words penetrate your thoughts now in an intimate prelude.

There Will Be No More Laughter


I looked in your eyes, they were so dark, warm and trusting, as though you had not a worry or care. The more guiless the game the better potential to fill up those pools with your fear.

Your face framed in dark curls like a portrait, the sun shone through highlights of red. What color I wonder, and how straight will it turn plastered back with the sweat of your blood.

Your wet lips were a promise of a secret unspoken, nervous laugh as it burst like a pulse of blood from your throat. There will be no more laughter here.

Pretty Captive Butterfly


I feel your body tense up, my hand now on your shoulder, your eyes. Forget the lady called luck she does not abide near me for her powers don't extend to those who are dead.

[illegible words] would that I could keep you, let you be the master of your own fate... knowing full well what's at stake? My pretty captive butterfly colorful wings my hand smears... I somehow repaint them with punishment and tears.

Your Petals I'll Crush


Violent metamorphosis, emerge my dark moth princess, I would come often and worship on the altar of your flesh. You shudder with revulstion and try to shrink far from me. I'll have you tied down and begging to become my Stockholm sweetie.

Okay, talk is over, words are placid and weak. Back it with action or it all comes off cheap. Watch close while I work now, feel the electric shock of my touch, open your trembling flower, or your petals I'll crush.
Source...
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