John W. Hinkley, Jr and Ted Bundy exchanged letters which included code words.
Son of Sam murderer David Berkowitz also corresponded with Bundy.
John W. Hinkley, Jr (father Hinkley, Sr close friend of George H.W. Bush) who was said to have been the sole shooter during the 1981 attempted assassination of U.S. President Ronald Reagan, and serial killer Ted Bundy who confessed to kidnapping, raping and murdering 30 young women (true count is unknown) during the 1970s exchanged letters. The wording of their communication contains code words. For example, there are references to certain films, etc. Your comments and participation welcome.
February 24, 1986
Dear Ted,
Please allow me to introduce myself – John W. Hinckley Jr., the slightly chubby loner who sought to impress the actress Jodie Foster by shooting President Ronald Reagan. In 1981, remember? Hi.
Anyway, I hope I’m not being rude, but I just saw the article about you in the Post, and I thought you could use a friendly word from someone who truly knows firsthand how tough it can be to stand up and tell the world, “Look, I’m really sorry, but I just went totally apeshit.”
The paper talks about how you didn’t want to plead insanity at your trial. (Hey, who does?) Like that means you weren’t nuts? (If you ask me, it proves it!) And how you were only doing it on appeal to escape the death penalty. (Duh.) Ted, I heard that same exact baloney, and I got so bummed that I tried to commit suicide three times. So what I really wanted to tell you is, don’t let the bastards get you down. You have as much right to appeal as anyone else, even if you killed and fucked a hundred dead girls. (But why am I telling you that? You went to law school!)
Good luck,
John
P.S. Did you ever see Taxi Driver?
March 15, 1986
Dear John,
What a delicious surprise! I certainly do recall you and your botched assassination. Of course, as a life-long Republican I objected to your choice of target, but I understand fully the impulse that drove you. Few emotions are so disturbing or so potent as unrequited love. Demonic rage, perhaps, but that’s it.
My sole quarrel is with your taste: The undeniably gifted Miss Foster is, by my admittedly quirky standards, slightly bony. (Flat as a pancake, we used to say.) As for Taxi Driver, I thought it all a tad lightweight. Despite the excellent work of the cast and the haunting Bernard Herrmann score, it failed to deliver the bite I was looking for at the climax.
I don’t imagine that you’re familiar with the work of Dostoyevsky, but if your hospital has any decent sort of library you ought to explore it. Begin with Crime and Punishment. It’s all there: the ravages of guilt and obsession, the debased intellect spiraling into madness and murder. You’ve lived the movie — now read the book! Ha-ha.
On a more somber note, I must ask that you refrain from profanity in any future letters. On that day two years ago when I accepted Jesus Christ as my personal Lord and Savior, I took the trash out of my life. I can’t undo my past — I am sorry; I did go non compos mentis — but today I am His lamb. Look to Him, John. There are no loners in His flock.
Best,
Ted
March 21, 1986
Ted,
I guess if you knew anything about women and how to make them happy, you wouldn’t be filing stupid appeals six years late to save your ass (sorry – rectum) from the electric chair. HA-HA-HA. I’m including a picture of Jodie so you can see how nuts you really are. I only have fifty-six left, but it’s worth it. This one’s from Carny. Did you see that? Or were you too busy raping and mutilating dumb girls? You think you’re so smart, but who’s going to Yale? Jodie Foster.
You know, when the newspapers said you were arrogant, I tried to keep my mind open. But I’m beginning to see that for once they were right.
JODIE’S A FOX!!!!!
John
P.S. I am NOT a loner anymore. My fiancee’s name is Leslie DeVeau, and I met her here.
April 2, 1986
My dear, demented Hinckley,
I don’t know what they’re putting in your pill cup, old boy, but one snide joke — for which I now hasten to beg your forgiveness — is no reason to un-holster your .22 automatic and strafe a crowd of suits. Take it from a fellow who on more than one occasion bit off more nipple than he could chew: Let go of the anger.
Thanks for the photo. I did see Carny — I’m a big Gary Busey fan — but I remember little of it, save for the haunting Alex North score. I can’t get it out of my head.
Say, isn’t your fiancee the gal who shotgunned her sleeping daughter, then turned the weapon on herself? Merely blew off part of her left arm, though, right ? Talk about a lid for every pot: What a miracle you two marksmen found each other. I myself got hitched back in ’81, to a sweet young lady named Carol Boone and haven’t regretted it for a moment. My only advice is to make certain the girl loves you for yourself. Most of them see a handsome face and never glance below the surface until it’s too late.
Best,
Ted
April 9, 1986
Dear Ted,
You’re so right about needing to let go of our anger. When we lash out, we don’t just hurt other people, we also hurt ourselves. The therapists tell me this all the time, but it means a lot more coming from you.
Did you ever see Bugsy Malone, with all the children dressed up like gangsters and the guns that shot whipped cream? If only we could be kids again, with whipped cream instead of bullets and Jodie in a little beige flapper dress. I’d never get angry
Your advice on marriage is good, too. Leslie just got out after four years. She says she truly loves me but she needs to try life on the outside and maybe play the field a little. I hate the idea of her dating other men, but I’ve learned here that she has the right to live her own life. Also, I don’t think that too many guys out there will want a one armed woman who killed her own child. I hope.
Your pal,
John
April 21, 1986
Dear John,
I received some most disheartening news this week — yet another ruling that I was competent at my trial and thus deserving of the death sentence. It’s always the same: The judge sees my grades, my Boy Scout merit badges, the pamphlet on rape prevention I authored when I served on the Seattle Crime Prevention Advisory Committee, and finds that I was sane. That these aged, black-robed cretins can’t grasp that a sane man could not have performed such unspeakable acts just slays me.
I indeed saw Bugsy Malone but found it cloying and disturbingly pedophilic at once. As you point out, however, the costumes were fetching, and I still can hear the haunting Paul Williams score.
Try not to fret about your fiancee’s need to test her wings. Surely you know the parable about the delicate butterfly held in a clasped pair of hands. Squeeze too hard and it dies. John, that butterfly is love. So spread your fingers, my friend; let Leslie fly. If love be true, she’ll return. If not, then she never really loved you, in which case you may hunt her down, throttle her and maul her cooling flesh to your heart’s content.
Best,
Ted
Son of Sam murderer David Berkowitz also corresponded with Bundy. Berkowitz told journalist Maury Terry that he was involved with a Satanic cult.
Upon his arrest, police found Roy Cohn’s phone number and address in his pocket. (This is a relatively unknown and buried nugget of information.) The authorities made no mention of this during the wide TV and newspaper coverage of the Son of Sam case.
Roy Cohn became Donald Trump’s attorney in the 1970s. Cohn is also alleged to have run a child sex trafficking ring with Lewis Rosenstiel, founder of Schenley Industries. Schenley was subsequently purchased by my abuser’s father, Meshulam Riklis, who later sold it to the Guinness family.
Bernard Hermann; Alex North; Paul Williams: Mention of film composers is a through-line in the Bundy letters. Cinema soundtracks and scores might serve as subliminal "triggers" just as they set the mood or underscore action on the big screen. The psychology of music is absent in most academic so-called "Film Studies," which stress narrative structure, dialogue, star iconology, and of course political ideology. Paul Williams is the last living representative of both pop music lyrics and his lesser known writing for cinema, especially his work for Jim Henson and The Muppets, the puppet-master that enchanted and groomed an entire generation first on "educational" TV and then in feature films. He died by unknown causes; followed by his son who created many of the scary puppets. See Kirby's earlier piece on kiddie show pioneer Shari Lewis and Lamb Chop on "Captain Kangaroo"; and Ira Levin.
Totally lavishly mind blowing as Always Kirby!