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Shortly before 1 A.M. on August 8th,1968, a horrifying phone call woke Richard Karla. His daughter, Donna Lee Hart, was on the other end. Someone was trying to break into her home, she frantically told him. The man, his face concealed by a dark stocking cap, had to yet to enter at when Hart placed the call. He was still outside, kicking the door with all of his might.

Karla hurried to his car and raced down the streets of Salisbury, New York, praying to reach his daughter in time. It took only five minutes for him to arrive at the small brick house in which Hart lived. He quickly circled the outside property, searching for any signs of an intruder. Just as he tried to open the front door, gunshots rang out through the air. Karla desperately clambered to the south-side of the house where another entrance was located. The door was already open. The intruder kicked it in with so much force that molding was bseverely damaged. Karla searched the house, starting with the ground floor. When he could not find his daughter, he moved to a spare bedroom on the second floor. That is where he found his beloved Donna.

As the intruder made his way into the house, Hart fled to the bedroom for safety, taking refuge inside a closet. The intruder followed her upstairs, tore the closet doors opened, and then shot the young woman three times with a .22-caliber pistol. She was hit in the abdomen, leg, and neck, which became the killing blow. Donna Hart, aged twenty-five years, had been murdered.

The intruder escaped into the night, out through the front door, never to be seen again. It is believed that he parked his vehicle several hundred feet away on Hopson Road. Karla did not catch sight of the killer but did hear the car speeding off. While going through the crime scene, police discovered more bullet holes within an outer wall, located outside of the bedroom where Hart slept. Several bullets hit right above the bed and around the window.

Throughout the years, detectives have received numerous tips on this case, and despite all of their hard work, it could not reach an ending. There are people of interest, but authorities say that they currently do not have enough evidence against them to produce a solid case for the courts. Investigators hope that by doing new forensic testing on collected evidence they will be able to put together a DNA profile.

Richard Karla and Virginia, his wife, never learned the truth of their only child’s murder. Richard was laid to rest in 1988. Fifty years after Donna’s death and nearly thirty years after her husband’s, Virginia passed away at the age of ninety-four. Those who knew her said that, until her final days, Virginia regularly spoke of her daughter and shared all of her most cherished memories of their time together.

If anyone has information on the murder of Donna Lee Hart, please contact the New York State Police’s Troop D Major Crimes Unit at 315-366-6003.

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The exhumation of Anneliese Michel

Anneliese Michel, born 1952 in Leiblfing (Germany), was said to be possessed by demons and - following more than 100 exorcisms performed on her - died of starvation and dehydration in 1976.

Two years after the burial, Annelieses parents demanded an exhumation of their daughters body after a Carmelite nun had told them about a vision in which she saw Annelieses body still intact - a proof of her possession and the sacrifice she had made for the sake of humanity. 

After the exhumation had been performed, the family, friends, priests and journalists were (against their will) locked outside the mortuary by the authorities so they wouldn’t have to witness the reopening of the coffin. 

The official report of the authorities states that the body “bore the signs of consistent deterioration”. Nonetheless Annelieses father later published a photo of the exhumation in which he claimed to see the well-preserved body of his daughter as well as the hand of the devil from outside the coffin (photo below).

All people involved in the exorcisms that lead to the death of Anneliese - including her parents - were later charged with negligent homicide.

(Supposed to be the preserved body ist the oval form in the center of the coffin top, the hand of the devil is supposed to be the black form on the right end of the coffin)

SOURCE PHOTOS - SOURCE TEXT

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Ted Bundy on Gary Ridgway: America’s Most Prolific Serial Killer

“This guy doesn’t want to be caught. He doesn’t want to play around. He’s not Son of Sam and he’s not even the LA Hillside Strangler. He doesn’t want notoriety. That’s why he’s going to all these length to dispose of these people in the way that he has.”

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The Absolute Worst Person From Each State. This is cool.

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Susan Denise Atkins, one of three women who appeared for arraignment in the Sharon Tate murder case, Los Angeles, December 17, 1969

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☝🏽️ I was thinking the exact same thing!

s c u m

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Ambassador Hotel: A Night in Room 507

We arrived at the Ambassador Hotel at exactly 9:45pm Thursday night, May 19th. I remember the exact time because I was starving and worried that we wouldn’t be able to order room service because the kitchen closes at 10. That night we stayed in room 504 because 507 was occupied at that time. In the morning we would check out of 504 and move just a few doors down to room 507 where we would spend the remainder of our trip. 504 is a bigger, nicer room than 507 so we were not exactly upset about spending one night there, so long as we got to spend my birthday in 507, we were happy. That night we missed the last call for room service because there was no menu in the room and we had to have one sent up; because of this the hotel was nice enough to accommodate us despite the kitchen being closed. We ordered room service, ate, and went to bed. We slept extremely well that night. The next day we got up, got ready, and went out for some coffee. Checkout is at 11am so we had to wait for the current occupants to check out of room 507 and for the room to be cleaned. The hotel called us around 12:30 to inform us that room 507 was ready for us, so we returned to the hotel to check into 507. That day we didn’t spend much time in 507. It was my birthday so I wanted to go out and visit all of the Dahmer related locations I had read about. We quickly crossed all of the locations on my list off, so we decided to head back to the hotel to grab a bite to eat. That night was relatively normal, just like the night before, only that night neither of us slept very well. I woke up on the 21st and it was as if I was hit by a ton of bricks…”HOLY SHIT…today is Jeffrey Dahmer’s birthday!”…I could not believe that I had actually forgotten that Jeff’s birthday is the day after mine. We would literally be staying in the hotel room that Jeffrey had murdered Steven Tuomi in ON his birthday! At the time, I didn’t know whether or not this was cool, creepy, or both. Actually, I knew it was creepy. The entire trip in general was morbid and creepy, but considering that this was supposed to be the ultimate ‘Dahmer’ experience, I let the excitement take over and planned a little surprise for later that night. That day we explored Milwaukee. We had already crossed everything Dahmer related off of our list the day before so the first half of that day kinda just felt like an actual vacation rather than some kind of morbid class project. We had a lot of fun that day and actually spent most of the day talking about how surprisingly awesome Milwaukee is. When we returned to room 507 that night something was majorly different. The room itself had always had a creepy vibe about it but that night it was incredibly heavy. It was something that both of us felt immediately and although we were still packed full of energy from the awesome day we had just experienced, all of a sudden we were completely drained. We ordered room service thinking that we were probably just hungry and my ‘surprise’ went into full swing. That night we would raid the mini bar, mix a couple of drinks, and watch a documentary on Jeffrey Dahmer. It seemed like the ultimate 507 experience and I wanted to maximize the creepiness, despite the fact that by this time we both felt like something was not quite right. Before we could get the documentary set up on my laptop, we heard a commotion outside of the room in the hallway. We quickly made our way to the door and immediately had to hold back our laughter. There was actually a crowd of drunken people outside of our hotel room, taking photos together and talking about the dark history of 507. I heard one guy say “Yea, that’s the room where Jeffrey Dahmer killed some guy!”, while another said “Oh my God, I think there is someone in there!” Then before we could compose ourselves they all started singing, extremely loudly I might add, “HAPPY BIRTHDAY JEFFREY DAHMER!!!” repeatedly as they walked down the hallway towards the elevators. Had I thought of it at the time, I would have thrown on my Dahmer glasses, flung open the door, and screamed “THANK YOU!!!” before they walked away from the door…but sadly, I was still in awe and by the time I thought of it, they were gone. After laughing for a good 20 minutes, we watched the documentary. I have seen pretty much every documentary and read every Dahmer related article, book, blog…etc. but the person that was with me (my partner) had never heard of Jeffrey before I dragged him along on this crazy adventure. And if not for that fact, that night may have not been as terrifying for me as it ended up being. After the documentary we talked for a bit before eventually falling asleep. That is when things went downhill. That night I woke up at exactly 3am and turned over to find my partner rubbing his eyes and staring at me. We had literally both just woken up on our own at 3am on the dot. He didn’t know the significance of this hour, but I certainly did and as someone who believes in the supernatural, I knew this was not a good thing. We talked for a bit about how uneasy we both felt and about how we were both having really bad nightmares right before we had woken up. He couldn’t remember his, but I could remember enough of mine to know that they all involved Jeffrey and room 507. We finally drifted back to sleep at some point but it wasn’t long before I was awake again, but this time it was only I who was awake and my partner was fast asleep, only this time he was hanging over the side of the bed in the creepiest, most awkward way possible. I sat there for at least a minute before reacting because I literally thought that I was having another nightmare. My partner knows NOTHING about Steven Tuomi that was not in the documentary that we watched that night. He knows nothing about Jeffrey Dahmer, except for what I have told him and what he saw in the documentary. The documentary mentioned the Ambassador Hotel but said NOTHING about how Jeffrey found Steven hanging off of the side of the hotel bed, dead. But there I was, looking at my partner in this weird, uncomfortable position. It looked like something out of The Exorcist and it didn’t even look like a position that anyone could sleep in. He looked dead. I snapped out of my initial state of shock/horror, grabbed his arm, and pulled him back onto the bed. He woke up for a moment and then quickly fell back asleep. I, on the other hand, spent the rest of the night looking up at the ceiling. I didn’t tell him what had happened when he woke up. I didn’t tell him until we got back home. He was already creeped out enough so I didn’t wan to make it any worse while we were still staying in room 507. I was creeped out too. I know that the trip was supposed to be scary/creepy and that this is the kind of story that people hope to bring back when they stay in a room like 507, but the whole experience was more than I bargained for to say the least. I still get chills imagining the position that he was in, with his head almost touching the floor, sound asleep as if it was the most normal sleeping position imaginable. I don’t know if it was the energy surrounding the room itself, a coincidence, or just the room combined with the energy surrounding Jeffrey’s birthday. I don’t know and I probably never will, but I do know that it is nothing that I ever want to experience again. Paranormal or not. I know that in earlier posts I used the phase “Retracing the footsteps of Jeffrey Dahmer”…I feel like this was a mistake now. Waking up next to my partner looking like he had just been murdered was definitely not what I meant to accomplish during my trip to Milwaukee. I just wanted to see for myself the places that I have read about so many times, and of course, creep my partner and I out a bit. It was supposed to be fun, and up until that last night, it was. I forcefully brushed off that night rather quickly and tried to enjoy my last day in Milwaukee, and somehow I managed to do just that. We ended the trip by ordering two rum and Cokes and toasting to Jeff before heading to the airport. I don’t regret my trip to Milwaukee at all, but I do have a lot more respect for places where tragedies have taken place, and I would caution anyone who stays in that room knowing what took place there. It’s definitely not something that you want to joke around with. If you want to stay in that room, it is something that you should take seriously. I will visit Milwaukee again in the future and I will definitely stay at the Ambassador every time I visit…but from now on, I will just stick to room 504.  

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Eric & Dylan on Tumblr be like:

Eric: Hey V, check this blog out!

Dylan: *Looking at it*

Eric: There’s too many people calling themselves Columbiners dude!

Dylan: Colum…what?

Eric: They make video edits of our tapes! Let me hear the song *Hears Pumped-Up Kicks*

*Both feels overwhelmed*

Eric: …

Dylan: …

Eric: I’m gonna pretend that I never saw that. *Keeps scrolling*

Dylan: …

Eric: …

Eric: Are they calling us Daddy? WHAT THE FU-FRICKING-FUCK?!

Dylan: I.. I don’t even know what to say…

*Awkward silence*

Eric: I think… I’ve seen en- *Sees the existence of Dave Cullen and reads about him being a psychopath and rapist*

Dylan: Reb…?

Eric: *Is red of the anger*

Dylan: *Scared as shit*

Eric: WHO THE HELL IS THIS GUY?! WHO HE THINKS HE IS? HE DON’T KNOW ME?! WHAT THE FUCK. I’M GONNA SHOVE ARLE… shit I’m dead. BUT WHAT THE FUCK!

Dylan: Calm down reb… is okay, he’s just making a mistake. Relax, don’t you remember all the mistakes we made?

Eric: *Deep sigh* you’re right… I’m just gonna keep looking at this shit.

*Both sees fan fictions, gay fan arts, pictures of them with flower crowns and a lot of overwhelming stuff*

Dylan: Is alright reb, they’re just a bunch of kids. They’re gonna grow up one day and-

Eric: *Throws the spiritual computer away*

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“I hugged him and I picked him up. Me and him always pretended we fought. We sucker-punched each other. We were goofing off. “He seemed normal to me.”

(Kim Carlin)

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Caril Ann Fugate, 1958

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“At first he said that cutting up the bodies was just necessary to get rid of them. Then later on he started feeling it was a shame to get rid of the body, after all the work to get the guy to come back, then drug the guy and make love to him while he was drugged, then to kill them and make love to the body for two or three days until the body started to rot and he would cut them open and cut them apart to get rid of them. Then he started enjoying the actual cutting open of the body and he’d stick his dick in the viscera. He started saving the heads. A lot of time he said he’d pull out the heads. We found seven heads in the refrigerator. He’d pull them out, talk to them, stick his dick in their mouth. We found a couple of penises he would suck on. He said he would do this to try to satisfy himself, so he wouldn’t have to keep going out and kill people. That’s what I asked him, after he’d killed four or five people, I asked him, ‘Jeff, why didn’t you just get a boyfriend? Why the fuck did you have to kill everyone?’ But he was such a pathetic guy, I actually started to kind of feel sorry for him. He just couldn’t make a human connection with anyone. He told me, ‘Everyone would leave, Pat.’”

-Det. Patrick Kennedy about Jeffrey Dahmer

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Girls that Eric dated/ had a crush with (then and now)

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Compilation of deleted scenes from Zero Hour. 

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Crime Scene photos taken from what most likely is Adam Lanzas room. (source)

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Ernst August Wagner was born in 1874 in Eglosheim near Ludwigsburg. He had a very poor, isolated upbringing, the 9th child of 10 but only one of three to survive by 1913. He was a very depressed child and was known as the ‘widows boy’, due to the early death of his father from consumption. Although his mother did remarry, it didn’t last long because of extramarital affairs. Ernst, even though depressed and filled with suicidal thoughts, did well in school and was quite intelligent. He was intelligent enough to gain a stipend from the government and was able to study his way to becoming a teacher. In 1901 was in a teaching position in Mühausen der Enz, where he worked until 1902. In the summer of 1901, he drunkenly committed an act of bestiality. This act would haunt him for the rest of his life. He belived the villagers of Mühausen der Enz knew of his horrible deed and were all making fun of him behind his back. That same year he began seeing Anna Friedericke Schient, and even though he didn’t like her family, he was forced to marry her because she became pregnant. 1894 he was in Switzerland where he attempted twice to commit suicide. By 1909 he and Anna would have four more children and he could have cared less. One of his sons even died on his birthday in 1909, but it did not seem to distress Ernst. His paranoia over the people of Mühausen der Enz knowing his secret grew stronger and stronger as the days went by. He would drive around to remote forest areas on his bike, his most precious possession, sharpening his shooting skills and preparing to take out his frustration on the men of Mühausen der Enz. He began his killing spree on September 4th 1913 with his wife. She was asleep and at around 5 a.m. he bashed her on the head with a blackjack, and stabbed her many times in the throat and chest. He repeated this gruesome act on his sons and his daughters. He left a note on his door saying that they were headed on a trip and in reality the family inside was dead from massive hemorrhaging. He changed his clothes and headed towards Stuttgart, from which he took a train to visit his brother in his hometown. When he got there he spent the night with his sister in law and her children, and the next day took the train to Bietgheim and sent some letters to family members and the theologist and Professor Christoph Schrempf, as well as some newspapers. He got his bike checked and mailed two copies of his autobiography out and headed back for Mühausen der Enz. He got there around 11 p.m. and he put a cap on his head a veil over half his face and attempted to cut the town’s telephone wires. This didn’t work because the wires were too high to reach so he just began walking through the streets shooting at any men that happen to mistakenly crossed his path. He spent around 80 rounds and shot 20 people, killing eight of them as well as two animals. At the beginning of his rampage he started a couple fires which lead to several buildings being burnt to the ground and at least one more villager dead. Stopping to reload, three men knocked him down with hoe’s and sabres and basically beat the shit out of him. He suffered several wounds to his face and his right hand was nearly cut off. The men left him in the road to die but he was found by a police officer a few hours later. When he briefly regained consciousness he immediately confessed to killing his family and said that he would appreciate it if he could be sentenced to death and decapitated. After a long trial and numerous psychiatric assessments and diagnosis, which said he suffered from paranoia, he became the first person in Württemberg to be found not guilty by reason of insanity. He was sentenced to an asylum in Winnenthal for life. There he wrote several plays and dramas and eventually in 1938 he died of tuberculosis. Pictured above are a newspaper article, a picture of Wagner, a few pics of the mass funeral ceremony and the town’s memorial for the victims. Source Wikipedia