The Final Michael Willetts Interview

I guess I knew before I started, as the last few pages might suggest, that this was to be my final interview with Michael. Knowing that before I went in was very helpful, because especially as it went along, I lost what fear I had of offending him by indelicate questions. There wasn't much he could do to me anyway, but I guess I had been somewhat reserved up to now, not wanting to get him angry and refuse to see me anymore. bile he showed me very little of that side of him, I was always sure there was an extremely volatile personality at work, and while we used to be good friends, I didn't want to take any chances now on bearing any part of his wrath. I also had no idea at this point of what would happen to him. Things were about where they were a week ago. He remained under indictment for the single murder of Mitchell Ferguson, held without bail, with no announcements of further charges. He had also admitted nothing, to the authorities or to me. I would say, though, as I did before the second interview, that there was still not much question of his guilt as far as I was concerned, and that wasn't a topic I felt like pressing, not out of fear of offending him, but because it appeared to me that my extracting a confession from him would serve nobody's purpose. If he wanted to talk to the FBI, that would be his choice. I didn't want to be the one who managed to worm it out of him. No matter what he may have done, he was my friend.

For the record again, this interview took place on April 6, 1980, my eighth day in Yuba City. Michael was wearing the same prison-issue jeans and light blue work shirt he had on the other two times, very Sixties-style attire I'd say, even if he didn't select his wardrobe himself.

Q: Before coming to talk to you today, I checked over the transcripts of our first two talks, and there are a few things that bother me a little.

A: You've already got transcripts prepared? Very efficient. You're making me think it was a good idea to get you back here, after all. I also know this time not to get nosy about what people are saying to you about me, so I'll try to answer your questions. By the way, you know who called me on the phone yesterday afternoon? You're not going to believe it.

Q: Who?

A: That Son-of-Sam guy, David Berkowitz I think he said his name was. He called right from his prison directly to here. Incredible. I didn't know it was that easy. You'd expect him to have tighter security and not be able to phone up any place he feels like. They've been loose on my calls too, probably so they can listen in. Could be the same deal with him, I suppose. That's one guy I never expected to have call me up.

Q: What did he say?

A: He told me he had been reading about me in a magazine, and he was calling to say he hated my guts. He said the only reason anybody should kill is because they have to, they can't control it. He called me a cold political assassin and said if he ever had a chance, he'd get me. I told him if he ever did that, then he'd be a political assassin too. That made him pretty upset. I don't think he's really that mad at me in particular anyway. I think it's more jealousy about all the attention this case is getting, while his is fairly out of the limelight.

Q: Did he say anything else?

A: Yeah, one other thing that was pretty funny. He said, "I hope they don't pass a law to keep you from telling your story." I hadn't known about it, but there was some kind of thing passed in the New York State Legislature that made any profits from the sale of his story go to the families of his victims. He was telling me all about it. He said he talked to Gary Gilmore about this once, and that Gilmore was lucky, he got to keep his money, or at least got to say who it went to after his execution. Berkowitz sounded jealous of him too. He said he was just trying to give me some advice, so I don't think he was as angry at me as he tried to sound at first. That must just be his way of talking.

Q: Are you really sure it was him? How do you know it wasn't some nut?

A: You mean he's not some nut? That's a good one. Maybe it was some nut. I don't know. I'm just telling you about the call.

Q: Have you read very much about yourself? Do they try to limit your access?

A: I guess that's all you want to hear about Son-of-Sam. OK. The court has granted my lawyer permission to bring me whatever materials he deems relevant to the case. All Donovan ever talks about is getting off on a pre-trial publicity deal, so that means he can show me the articles and stories as a way of making me understand the case.

Q: What do you mean get off because of pre-trial publicity?

A: You can talk to him if you really want to know. I don't think he means get off, like they're going to let me go because of all the attention. It's an easy delaying tactic, requesting changes of venue, claiming it would be impossible to select an impartial jury, using it as a plea-bargaining tool. If I was really interested in a trial, it doesn't sound like that bad a plan.

Q: What do you mean if you were really interested in a trial? You're not?

A: No. I don't expect to get that far.

Q: What do you mean? That you'll be released?

A: Quit asking me what I mean all the time. I don't care to talk about it. Ask me something else.

Q: How can you say that? Why won't you tell me what you're hinting at?

A: I wasn't hinting at anything. I will not tell you why I'm not interested in a trial, so you better go on to another subject.

Q: If you're sure that's all you're going to say about that. I can't persuade you to tell me what you mean?

A: No, so quit asking about it.

Q: If that's my only choice, then let me ask about something you said when we first spoke.' You told me you were glad I had come up here so quickly because "things were going to happen fast in the next few days." I must say I didn't understand what you meant then, and now that I've been here over a full week, I still don't see what you mean.

A: You haven't been busy this week? What did you expect to happen?

Q: Oh, I've been busy all right, but I was expecting you to tell me what was going to happen so fast.

A: Don't worry. You won't be kept in suspense much longer. These things can take a little time.

Q: What things?

A: You'll know when they happen.

Q: You're not going to explain what you mean?

A: No, and I wish you would ask me about some real subjects. All you keep wanting to know is about what might or might not happen in the future. Can't you ask me about anything else?

Q: Listen Michael, you're the one who invited those sorts of questions by speaking so mysteriously or obliquely or whatever it was you were doing. Don't talk as if I started it. You did.

A: I wasn't asking for an apology. I was only hoping there were better things to discuss. I'd like to be cooperative, really I would, just quit asking about what could be ahead.

Q: Then let me go back a good ways, maybe to something you don't want to talk about either. It's hard not to notice that you're missing a finger, and I have read reports that you did that to yourself so you wouldn't be drafted.

A: You had to read about it in the paper? You couldn't ask me? This is the third time you've been here to see me, I'm surprised you didn't bring it up before. What were you waiting for? You thought I'd get angry?

Q: I thought you might be too upset by that subject, especially since you seem to fix on small things that have happened to you a long time ago and then want to talk about them at great length.

A: What small things? You don't have to answer, it doesn't matter. Personality assessment is obviously not your strong suit. I've got nothing against talking about my finger. It's no big deal, not anymore. There are other people who have been hurt worse by this than I have.

Q: What do you mean?

A: That should be pretty apparent. If you can't figure it out, skip its. I'd just like to know one thing first. You haven't bothered Sharon or anyone else with questions about what happened to my finger, have you? I hope you at least have that much tact and sensibility.

Q: Don't worry. That's why I'm asking you. I'm glad you realize I'd never be that low. If I could ask a real stupid, irrelevant thing, just out of curiosity, how did you do it? I mean, it must have taken some thought.

A: That's an interesting question, finally. It's true, deciding I would do it was much simpler than working out the exact method. I don't intend this as a how-to-do-it lesson, because I hope no one will ever be in straits as dire as those I was in, but I figured out a good plan, I must say. Let me tell you first the one I was going to use, that I abandoned just before I did it. You should get a kick out of this one. try parents had one of those big old Lincoln Continental gas guzzlers, kind of a wreck, but it used to be a fancy car. The automatic windows in that car were funny, because you didn't have to hold your hand on the button to keep the window moving if you didn't want to. The driver had a master control where he could flip a switch that would click into place, and whatever windows were down would all automatically go up until they were closed. I remember when I was younger I used to think that was kind of dangerous, how if a kid had his head out the window and the driver put the switch on, then goodbye head. It used to bother me, so one day I remember trying to test those windows a little, because I was sure there had to be some kind of safety cut-off, that the Lincoln people, I guess that would be the Ford Motor Company, didn't want to have a decapitation or two on their consciences. To test it, I first stuck a hot dog in, sent the window rolling, and then I had two halves of a hot dog. I thought that must have been too soft, so I got a branch of a tree. That snapped in half also, and then I said, the hell with it, I was tired of thinking up things to stick in the window, so I put my hand there, cushioning my palm against the edge, and I kept my other hand on the switch, so that the instant I could see this plan wasn't working and before my arm wound up like that frankfurter I'd be able to kill the window. Well I did it, and let me tell you, if I hadn't been able to click the switch back, that damn glass would have taken my hand off, I swear it would have. So anyway, I wasn't more than fourteen when I did this, but later when this problem came up of how would I take off a finger, of course I remembered that little experiment. I even figured how I'd sharpen the edge of the glass before I did it so there'd be a nice neat cut. That was the best plan I figured out, definitely better than the one I used. All that kept me from it is that I thought my parents would never want to drive that car again, or at least they wouldn't feel very comfortable about rolling up the windows. Then there was the mess it would leave too. So I worked out a way to do it at home, alone, because I also didn't want to put Sharon through it either. I hated to give up that other plan though, because there was something so nice and automatic about it. I mean once my finger was in position and I clicked that switch, then all I had to do was wait. try work would have been over. I could have had the window clear open when I started, so there'd be a good long interval from start to finish. The method I wound up using required me to be more active in it, so that I could chicken out right to the very end. The other way, all I had to do was sit there and not move.

So, how I did do it, I had to drink some and take about four pain killers, not so much to build up my courage, but to keep my hand from shaking the moment the blade hit. What I did was pretty simple, nothing really to brag about, not like that window scheme. All I did was take this vegetable slicer thing, I think it was called a Veg-a-matic. The only piece it had to keep you from taking a finger off anyway was a little plastic guard rail that was easy to remove. Then I sharpened up the blade real good. Next I rigged up a little thing with a brick, where I could pull a string and the brick would fall squarely on the handle of the Veg-a-matic, which I had enlarged and made more secure by fitting a wood block onto it, and that way I'd be sure and have enough pressure to cut all the way through. I made sure, believe me. I didn't want to be standing there with a finger half cut, but the bone in one piece. If I was going to go through that much pain, I was going to be absolutely certain that the job was done right. Well it worked just like I planned, I have to say. I'd recommend one of those little gadgets to anybody. It left my finger sitting right in the food container, like it was a slice of zucchini. Only thing that surprised me was my damn hand just kept bleeding and bleeding, I couldn't get it to stop. But it didn't hurt that much. I guess I had enough Wild Turkey and pills in me not to feel a hand grenade. So, was that a complete enough answer?

Q: Surprisingly complete. More than I'd ever want to know, probably.

A: Don't start criticizing me for talking too much now. Anything you don't like you can always cut out later.

Q: Are you aware that this incident has been held up as strong evidence of how crazy you are, that doing this shows your potential to be a murderer?

A: Sure I've heard it. I get a real kick out of that, if you want to know the truth. Because I preferred to lose a finger rather than go over there and kill people, it shows I'm capable of killing people here. That's real American logic for you. It sounds like the kind of thing the Army psychiatrist would say to me, about how anyone that good with a knife should be in the Army.

Q: Oh, I'm glad you mentioned that. I've been told that under the Freedom of Information Act it's possible to obtain that psychiatrist's report from the government. Would you mind if I did that?

A: Sure. Why not. Best comedy sketch I was ever in. Nobody would believe it came from government files. You might check first with Donlon. He's been collecting piles of stuff like that, so it might be around already.

Q: On a different subject, I don't want to pose too philosophical a question, but something you said makes me wonder about your feelings regarding killing. I imagine when you made a claim as a conscientious objector, you had to take some stand against killing. So it's just, it sounds like both from today and the first time we talked, as if you don't feel that bothered about these deaths. It seems a little contradictory to me.

A: You're asking better questions today. That's a good one. I could talk about this all day, but I don't think I will. Another document you could go after if you're getting stuff from the government would be the report the secretary did from shorthand during my Draft Board re-hearing. I don't think the report from the first one exists anymore. They were required to expunge it from the record. The one that should be there is real good, though, because we argued about this a lot. I don't think my views have changed much. Let me answer part of your question now. I guess we don't know for sure if they'll ever give you that other material, even if the law requires them to.

The regulations on becoming a conscientious objector are wonderful. They read like poetry, they really do. My very favorite line, which I can easily quote from memory, says "The draft law exempts from military service all those whose consciences would give them no rest or peace if they allowed themselves to become a part of an instrument of war." No rest or peace, isn't that great? That says it all. Also, there isn't anything in there about being against killing, just that you don't want to be part of a war instrument, which I always took to mean serving in any capacity whatever. You could still be kill-crazy, just not be prepared to do so in war. Try to find that report of my day in court, if you could call that a court, and you'll have this whole story.

Q: Do you have any idea what "no rest or peace" is supposed

to mean?

A: Too well to want to explain. That's another one I'll leave to you. I think it's pretty clear.

Q: We haven't talked about any of this before. I don't think it hurts to at least bring it up.

A: I think I told you once before that my opinions about these things don't make that much difference. I'd rather talk about what really happened.

Q: Then let me ask this, what was it about the things that

happened to you then that made you most angry? Did you harbor a grudge? You sort of avoided that when I asked you before.

A: Sure I was angry. They changed my life. It wasn't denying me CO status. I'm no crybaby and that was no surprise. I never held it against them personally. You'd naturally expect that sort of decision from assholes like them. They wouldn't be who they were if they acted differently, if you follow what I'm saying. If I was mad over that single ruling, it would be like hating the grass for being green or getting angry because the sun went down every day. I never expected compassion or understanding from any of them. They wouldn't have been in that job if they were more human than they were. I was never angry at that, believe me. Don't get me wrong, that doesn't mean they deserved to live. I'm only saying that opposing my CO status was not reason for me to want to kill them.

Q: Then please tell me, if you weren't angry over that, what were you so mad about? You tried to explain one of the other times about how smug or something you thought they were. When I read that part over, it did surprise me, because it sounded like you were saying that just because they never changed their minds, that was enough reason so they would be deserving of killing.

A: I don't think I said it that way. What I meant was more, well, I'm not giving you reasons why they should have been killed, but don't you think it's wrong that here we are in 1980 and people like that are still walking the Earth? Those responsible for that war should have gone into hiding when it was over. They should be like condemned ex-Nazi's, hunted down and brought to justice.

Q: You're the one who said these Nazi comparisons don't mean anything.

A: I'm not saying that what they did was equivalent to what happened during World War II. I'm describing an attitude, and I can see you don't get what I mean. I'm saying that what they did bears scrutiny, now as much as ever, that it can't go away and be forgotten, and that people like these can't be allowed to act as if they did honorable things. That seems like a nice moderate reasonable position, hardly worth arguing over.

Q: Don't you think the Vietnam experience is being reevaluated anyway? Isn't that the task of history?

A: Hah. You can't be serious. It really matters whether in books that nobody reads, professors give sober assessments of our tragic errors. That's the way they'd talk. They already are. Vietnam was tragic, like it was some fucking Shakespeare play, where even the villains had their reasons. That's the kind of reevaluations they're doing. Mostly, nobody cares. I do. But I care more about justice than history. We'll all be dead someday, won't we, so it doesn't really matter what history will say. What matters is changing things now. Not changing minds or debating the past, but changing who it is who has to live in fear, who's allowed no rest or peace. Everybody who ever said we should bomb those gooks back to the Stone Age, anybody who advocated incurs ions while waiting for the light at the end of the tunnel, each and every person who thought we better fight them over there or else they'd be in the front yard of their hick-town cardboard crackerboxes, all of those who are "proud of their roles" as they put it. Every one of them should go to sleep at night afraid they won't live to do it again the following evening. They should have to answer for how ready they were to coerce other people to do things they might now acknowledge were wrong. I'm not going to turn this into a speech, but asking what you did has struck a nerve. I'm just saying, they deserve a little of what they made me go through, a little of the fear, the uncertainty. being forced to defend yourself before people who want to kill you. They never had to live through any of that, and now should be their time. I haven't said this well at all, but I hope you can see what I mean.

Q: To be honest, not entirely. You're making it sound like it wasn't a question of revenge, that it's not about getting even.

A: Sure. These five guys don't matter. This town doesn't matter. What they did to me was small compared to what happened to so many. I lost a finger, but I've still got arms and legs. I may be pretty crazy, I'd be the first to admit, but there's people out there totally out of their minds, both ones who went in and ones who didn't. We shouldn't feel sorry for the crazy ones, we should ask why them and not the ones who have it coming. Well right here in Yuba City that morning, fear went in the right direction for a change, and the crazy could become sane. Those five definitely had it coming, I'm not even thinking of that, and not for what they did to me. They had it coming because that's the line of work they were in, that they chose for themselves. People who were part of the war now know that the war could come back to them at any time. Some of us remember who was doing what, and the ones who have been going around saying "isn't it wonderful we've put it all behind us" now know that it's only behind us when the last of them have come clean by at least acknowledging what they did. Not the country, not the government, not anyone else, but what they did, said, and thought themselves. If they can't look back and face that, then they can look back over their shoulder and wonder when their turn is going to come Let them learn how to live like that.

Q: Are you saying anybody who was in favor of the war deserves killing?

A: That's a stupid question. You really don't get what I'm saying. They don't deserve killing necessarily. They deserve the fear of being killed. And the more direct and active their role, the greater the genuine fear they should experience. And the less repentance or reexamination they've undertaken, then the stronger should now be their sense of the possibility of retribution. Is that clear?

Q: Who decided this? You judge for yourself what should happen to people who disagreed with you. What gives you the right?

A: No more than they judged me and now admit the issues were more complex. They had no right. That is my point.

Q: So that makes you right to now be like they were?

A: Only to restore what they ruined, to put back together the lives they tore apart. That's simple justice and morally proper.

Q: I don't think we can really argue this. It will just go around in circles.

A: I couldn't agree more.

Q: Then let me ask you why start with a Draft Board? Why not Robert McNamara or McGeorge Bundy or Henry Kissinger or Richard Nixon?

A: Because the big names are too hard to get to. Not that they should get off. Those are the ones you should finish with. And it's obviously so easy to blame a few politicians, but it wasn't politicians really. It was people in lots of little places who got together and forced all those kids to go, or encouraged the ones who were dumb enough already to want to go on their own. If there were responsible people around to tell them not to, it wouldn't have happened. Friends of ours didn't go because Lyndon Johnson told them to, they went because Ferguson and Neville and the rest of them from right here would tell them to their faces that it was their duty and their opportunity and they better go or else.

Q: I know we talked about this a bit before, but soldiers who fought in the war wouldn't come out too well either by what you're saying.

A: I thought I was clear on this before. Why are you asking again?

Q: I just wondered where you would place veterans among those you think are guilty. Why should you hate Draft Board members more, for instance, since they didn't even kill anybody directly? And why should you be trying to list people, or group them according to the guilt they should feel?

A: I'm not trying to do that, you are. I never made any such distinctions, except in answering your questions.

Q: I've been asking about hostilities towards groups rather than individuals. Symbolic mass murders seem to suggest an unwillingness to consider individuals in any way. How do we know, for example, whether all five members of the Draft Board were alike? Maybe David Smith became a Quaker or an anti-draft advocate or spoke out against war? Do you know?

A: You tell me. Have you found any evidence yourself to suggest that any of them, in any single public action, showed themselves to be the tiniest bit human? That was the wrong question to ask me, or those were the wrong five to ask about.

Q: I wish I had facts that could let me argue with you on this point. I'm sorry to say I can't put up much of a struggle. From what I've learned, they do seem pretty much alike.

A: Sure. They made themselves a group, a team, or whatever it was, denying themselves any individual feeling or thought. I remember how when I went before them, it was spooky sometimes how one guy would start a sentence and another would finish it. They were more like a gang, I guess that would be the word, a bunch of middle-aged bullies.

Q: About veterans again, I hate to get repetitive, but to put it another way, the last time we spoke you were pretty harsh in what you said, yet I have heard reports that you've shown quite a bit of interest in the guys from around here who were in the war, and that didn't seem to fit with what you were saying last time.

A: OK, I see what you're asking. I'd put it this way. There were plenty of them who must have been too young and stupid to know why they were going in, and lots of them are now- completely screwed up one way or another by the experience. Those guys are victims too, lots of them worse off than me, by far, and angrier than me, and you can't hate that whole group, mainly because they're such a messed-up lot. Or I can't hate them, really. They're more like me than you'd think. We both went through the same war and we've both got the same scars, casualties together. I don't think it's unusual that I'd take an interest in people like that. I could have a lot in common with them.

Q: That's already less harsh than what you said before.

A: It doesn't sound that way to me. Admitting that some of them are walking wounded doesn't mean I'm that sympathetic. My precise feelings on this are a minor matter, I'd think. I don't see why you keep asking about it.

Q: I won't be too persistent, but I wondered since the last time you said something about veterans who were used by anti-war groups, I think you called them tools, about how they were exploited by one side and then the other. I couldn't help but wonder, since there has been speculation that an angry ex-soldier would be a likely participant in these killings, how they'd be any less a tool for doing that.

A: And you expect me to answer to that? Explain why a Vietnam vet who might have helped in these killings shouldn't be thought of as some kind of sucker?

Q: I wouldn't put it that way, but I guess that's what I'm asking. If you're calling them walking wounded, like they were some kind of zombies, how are these so-called military killings any different from what they did over there?

A: Exactly.

Q: That's an answer?

A: You said it well enough. The killings here were entirely equivalent to what happened over there, including the possibility that some dumb soldiers who didn't know any better were drafted into service. Same thing.

Q: This is leaving me speechless. I can't believe we're talking like this. I don't think anyone else would believe it either.

A: You're talking like Barbara Walters.

Q: I am?

A: You don't have an audience you need to act shocked or indignant for. I thought you'd be a little more understanding.

Q: Well, there's something else I don't understand I'd like to ask about. I have trouble figuring why anyone who committed these crimes would want to stay alive afterwards. That's a terrible question, but I might as well bring it up if we're already talking so casually about five deaths.

A: And the likelihood of many more. Don't forget that.

Q: That you think this might be the start of a whole new national activity.

A: You don't like discussing killing, is that it? I have trouble feeling sorry for you. You ought to be more accustomed to it. I'd like to answer about why the person or persons who did this would want to stay alive. Suppose it were me. That would be a reason for doing this in the first place. I'd have nothing to lose When you're dead already, there's nothing to risk, and I've been dead a long time".

Q: You don't really mean that literally.

A: I mean it just the way it sounded. Do you want to play back your tape and listen again?

Q: When do you feel you died?

A: When I knew I'd never sleep right again, never feel happy about being a part of this world, never want children to grow up through what I did.

Q: But you had a child.

A: That wasn't my idea. I left my wife over that. Can you imagine? Because I didn't want to have it. Now that he's here, I've done as much for him as I'm capable, but I still wish he weren't here, especially now to see this.

Q: I meant to ask, since we never talked about it, what it is you've been doing all these years. I never pictured you as an

accountant, It doesn't sound very rewarding or interesting. You seemed to have more varied talents.

A: That doesn't matter, I wanted something that would keep my mind occupied all day, keep me from thinking about things.

Q: You're sounding more messed up the more we talk. You mean you deliberately chose a job that would keep you from having to think? Michael! You were the smartest kid there was, Not just smart, but really quick, and you always had twenty ideas for how to do anything. Why did you do this to yourself?

A: What incredible presumption you have to ask something like that, What gives you the right? How are you better off? I should have gone on as if nothing ever happened, I suppose. Ever since then I've been what you'd call laying low, I guess you could say my time has come.

Q: This is your time now? The only way you could have had any impact?

A: You're a social worker, all right. Don't make a case out of me or start telling me how I could have made tremendous contributions to society if only I had channelled myself into more productive activities. It's a little late for that kind of talk, don't you think. And you're in no position to pass judgement.

Q: I'm not trying to. I just wish I could understand what's happened. It seems like such a waste. Is that what all this comes to?

A: You have a way of saying things about me or what's happened that sound like verdicts on history. That's how people so often talk about the War, wondering what it all had added up to. It's like when people would say it must have meant something because 50,000 died, as if the more there were who died the more meaning was produced. You could look at this the same way, if you wanted to.

Q: That's a really stupid thing to say. Is it your life's work to recreate here the conditions of ten years ago so that the same statements will continue to be meaningless? You're that in love with the past that you never want to leave it? You're contemptuous of history at the same time you want to relive and modify your past. You seem to love nothing more than hearing old lines about the War or what it was like over there so it can be reapplied to Yuba City. That sounds like your biggest thrill. I can't see why that would be such a big deal for you, or why it should matter to anyone else.

A: It's funny how little you've understood of what I've been trying to tell you, or how quick you are to dispense wisdom on things you know very little about. I really don't want to waste time engaging you in debate on whether my life has meaning or if anything I've done was right to you or even understandable. I'm glad this is being recorded, so it might fall on more receptive ears.

Q: Then to return to something that might have some general interest, I hope, maybe you could tell me if you've felt different since the murders took place?

A: Do you ever have the feeling that once, a long time ago, events were set in motion over which you no longer had any control? It's like a movie you've already seen, but now you're in it. There's no way you can affect what will happen, but you know what hasn't happened yet. That's the way this feels. It began so long ago, and none of us could stop it, killers or victims.

Q: Which were you in this?

A: They wanted me to be a killer. Those who did are now victims. The rest I don't need to fill in.

Q: Have you felt better? Relieved?

A: I feel calm.

Q: Happy?

A: Calm. Not the same thing.

Q: What do you see your future to have in store.

A: That's an unbelievably idiotic question.

Q: If you don't like what I ask, just say you won't answer. You don't have to get hostile.

A: I hope you'll have sense later to do some serious editing on this. I'd hate to think of you being thought so foolish.

Q: Maybe you'll help me work on that, decide what should be left in or corrected or amended.

A: No thanks. I've never been out for literary glory.

Q: Have you been out for any glory at all? Do you like the attention this has received?

A: I never wanted to be famous, but I'm happy the killings have been noticed. What pleases me about it is that there's been so much attention paid to the complexity of the deaths, so that everybody's saying that either a lot of people must have been involved or that it had to have been planned for so long, or why would it have been done this way. It's never described as the work of somebody gone temporarily berserk, like a sniper or a typical mental case. That's pretty good.

Q: What about the interest in you?

A: That's what I was saying. I'm glad I haven't been such a focal point. I could have done lots of interviews if I wanted that to happen. It would have been easy to turn myself into a temporary celebrity. It would have been fun, too, talking to some of the famous people who have expressed an interest in what they usually call seeing what makes me tick. It's not easy to tell Truman Capote you have no interest in talking with him. But I really don't want fame or notoriety or any of that. I don't think I'm that interesting as a person, as these interviews are probably proving, or that I should be the center of attention. I'd rather talk to you and have this wind up in a book eventually, where people who are serious about wanting to learn what happened can put up with all your boring speculation in order to read what I had to say.

Q: Thanks for the faith in my abilities.

A: You know I'm kidding.

Q: Glad to hear you say so. It's comforting to know you're talking to me because somebody else might manage to exploit this for immediate publicity, while you know I don't have the clout or connections to do that. Sorry I wasn't even a bigger nobody.

A: No, you're the right size nobody, because I know you realize what an opportunity you have here. This could change your life too.

Q: I wish my life could change for some reason besides who I once knew who's now famous.

A: That's a good enough reason. And don't kid me. I'm sure you've been scratching around here pretty good this past week. You probably figure you've got fresh slants on all sorts of things.

Q: Don't start prying again.

A: That's what happens when I try to give you a compliment. Oh, one thing I better advise you about. You shouldn't try to sell any excerpts from your interviews with me to magazines, and you should stay away from reporters who might ask you about this too.

Q: What would be wrong with doing either of those?

A: I'm just giving my opinion. You'd be much smarter holding out for a book deal. If you sell the good stuff cheap, nobody will want the whole thing. Better wait. Be patient. You'll get what you want sooner or cater. Don't forget you've got material here nobody else has. That should be worth something.

Q: One thing I won't be able to call it is "Confessions of the Yuba City Draft Board Killer" since there hasn't been a confession.

A: That would be too lurid anyway.

Q: You know what I meant by saying that.

A: Sure. Does a confession from me make much difference? A lot better to leave doubt, so people will think the true perpetrator and his gang may still be on the loose, ready to strike anywhere. What a national shock there will be when something like this happens again! Whether I'm there to see it or not.

Q: Don't start talking that way. Where do you think you'll be that you couldn't see it?

A: I'll ignore that one. I do wonder whether I'll get the blame for it, if I'll be held responsible for those too.

Q: If somebody copies what happens here, won't you be responsible?

A: These can't be copied. They could influence or suggest, but they could never be duplicated. I wouldn't be surprised if any new killings someplace would still be pinned on me directly, cops figuring I sneaked out of jail or rose from the dead or whatever. More superhuman powers will be attributed to me no matter what happens. Wait and see.

Q: Were you surprised when you were arrested?

A: Of course. I've never been arrested before. I was never in demonstrations, never did anything to attract the attention of the authorities, as they say. At first, I had trouble telling the FBI agents from the reporters, there were so many people swarming around me. Even when they first came to my house, you never saw so many people. The agents brought reporters with them, I'm sure. I was a little surprised by that. I still don't know how that was arranged, who allowed it to work that way. It was a real mob scene, right from the start. I'm glad it was so crowded, because at least it meant they wouldn't try to kill me and claim I was resisting arrest. They apparently valued press coverage of the event more than the opportunity to do me in. They've had plenty of chances to try since then, I guess, so there was no reason to do it that first night.

Q: You still think they want to kill you?

A: I'm completely aware that this sounds like typical paranoid ravings, but until you're in here yourself for any length of time, don't be so sure what I'm saying is crazy, and don't patronize me by acting like you're humoring me when you doubt what I'm saying.

Q: Could you just answer the question.

A: What they'd like best is if I committed suicide. I'm certain they've left things around for me that I'm not supposed to have, in order to encourage me to do it. I've had razor blades on my sink twice, when I'm not allowed any sharp objects. I tried to steal a dinner knife one night just to see if they'd stop me. Nobody did. The next night I gave it back, after realizing how I had played into their hands. Funny things like these happen quite frequently.

Q: If they wanted you dead, couldn't they just do it and make it look like suicide or claim it happened while you" tried to escape?

A: Should it come to that, don't be surprised. A clear suicide would still make them look better, so they could claim a friend, someone like you, had passed me a razor blade or some pills so I could put myself out of my guilt-ridden misery. That's the kind of simple-minded scene that would appeal to them. Nothing elaborate would be required. But if I wouldn't cooperate and they didn't want to do it themselves, all they'd have to do is look the other way, and there'd be plenty of local volunteers ready to do the job.

Q: Would you expect the person charged with these killings to be very popular around here?

A: No, but I still can't help but be surprised when yahoos who claimed the War was worth fighting in order to defend American ideals then are so ready to become my immediate judges, jury, and executioners.

Q: Have you found yourself getting any support?

A: Do you mean from here, or from other places?

Q: Either.

A: I haven't had much visible support. I think that's because there's very few, especially in public positions, who would openly express approval over the events here. The people who find comfort in what happened I would expect to be a rather quiet bunch. A large group, but not people prone to public statements. They're out there, though, I'm sure. I can feel it.

Q: Weren't there draft resistance groups who said they thought what happened was no surprise?

A: I read something like" that, but that's not the most committed statement I've ever heard. It's better than calling for me to be lynched, but it's far from coming to my aid. I would have expected organizations opposed to, the draft to be more vocal about this. I think it's safe to say that were the draft reinstituted, Yuba City might have a hard time setting up again.

Q: You really think so?

A: I'd like to see the dummies who'd volunteer to take the place of the five no longer here to do what they'd have been only too ready to keep doing until they fell over from senility. And if the draft ever starts up again, by then that could be the situation in lots of places. Draft Board Member will not be a safe occupation. Isn't that an effective form of resisting the draft? Kill them before they kill you. It's a wonder it never happened before 1980. Sounds so simple.

Q: You really think there's going to he more killings like these?

A: It's always easier to follow in someone else's footsteps. The second time will only take someone realizing who their true enemy is, and see the sense in what happened here. And if the Draft Boards do set up again, it won't just be crazies in their thirties with decade-old grievances, you'll have new kids ready to take preventive measures for their own survival. Killings like these have been inevitable for some time. Yuba City just has the distinction of getting there first.

Q: Well, I hope you're wrong.

A: You'd rather we all let bygones be bygones, is that it?

Q: I'd like to think there's some choice besides killing people because they don't agree with you.

A: Sure there's a choice, but it's not ours. If there were no Draft Boards, this wouldn't happen. If those who did this work or condoned their activities in the past don't brag about it or shovel it under the rug, that could end the killing. We've covered this subject already.

Q: I still hope you're wrong.

A: I'm really sorry you seem to be so unsympathetic to the things I've been talking about. I hope you've been acting this way because that's how you think an interviewer should be I'd hate to think you're so resistant to what I've been saying. Since you're the one who left here, you should have grown up a little more, changed more. You seem more dull and conservative than when you left.

Q: Thanks a lot. I've been trying to let you talk. Shows what I get for sitting here while you go on and on.

A: I don't mind your sitting, but that's nearly all you do. I'd been hoping for a little more sense that you knew what I was getting at. Your mechanical head-nods aren't the most positive form of response.

Q: I don't want us to talk about me. I'll have plenty of time to express myself.

A: I'm hoping that no matter what you say, you'll try not to mess up what I've been telling you. Let's face it. Who could care less what you think about anything? It's me they want to know about, a chance to hear me rant and rave. So remember why this stuff will wind up in print. Say whatever you want, but don't cut up my parts too badly.

Q: You still won't agree to working on the manuscript?

A: You're talking dumb again. I am concerned about you doing a good job, but that isn't exactly all I have on my mind. After today, I expect you to go off and do what you've got to do. This story isn't over yet, but I don't think our talking together more will produce anything important. Go do whatever you want, but I think we've gone over all we ought to.

Q: There's lots of other things I was hoping to ask you.

A: It hasn't sounded that way. Let's just say I've told you all I'm going to.

Q: Can't we talk again when there are new developments? What about during the trial?

A: You sound rather sure it will reach there. That's not much of a vote of confidence either.

Q: I hope you'll be out of this somehow, but I just meant I'd like us to keep in touch.

A: Maybe, but don't count on it. You've got enough on me now, I should think.

Q: I hope you'll still let me know if there's anything I can do to help, or if any ideas occur to you I ought to include. We are friends, aren't we?

A: Sure. From the good old days.