For thirteen years, BTK was silent — until Dennis Rader's compulsive need for recognition drove him to send a floppy disk that handed police his identity. This chapter traces how ego, not evidence, ended the longest cold case in Wichita history.
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He had already picked out his next target. A woman living three houses away.
Start at the beginning, because it sets everything that follows. January fifteenth, nineteen seventy-four.
While Wichita lived under the shadow of a killer who'd never been caught, Rader was doing the kinds of things that earn trust in a community. He worked as a compliance officer, the person who shows up to tell you your grass is too long or your fence violates code.
From the beginning, Rader needed recognition. He needed someone to know that he was responsible for what he'd done.
By two thousand four, Rader had been dormant for over a decade. Law enforcement still had no credible suspect.
In August two thousand five, Dennis Rader stood in a Wichita courtroom and described his crimes in his own words. Flatly.
On the day of Rader's arrest, his daughter Kerri was living in Michigan. She was an adult with her own life.
Dennis Rader is currently incarcerated at El Dorado Correctional Facility in Kansas. He gives occasional interviews.
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