Another Dilemma

"This isn't the first time this has happened.

"Hands dirtied by the mess made. Blood splatters across the walls. Trails of blood across wooden floors to outside where all the body parts are buried. Hurriedly returning to the scene of the grissly crime to wash away as much of the evidence as possible, and of course, never removing the gloves worn. To do so, would be my giving myself away. I don't want to do that ... yet. Regain control of mental and physical emotions as possible.

"Hide the knife where it will never be found. Throw away all traces of clothing worn but not until after leaving the destruction behind.

"Was it enjoyable? Yes. This isn't the first time as I said, and until I am caught, or dead, it will happen again. When? Not sure. But it will.

"Why did I come to you? Let's just say it was time to share my insane love for death. To watch those final seconds tick away on a person's face as their life ebbs from their flesh. I no longer have this need to keep what I consider to be my life's work; private."

I listened to the tape a dozen times.

In my work, I get all sorts of people with issues that need to be resolved in hopes a life can move on and get past their fears, their angers. Others with emotional and sexual dysfunctions are also another area my clients have problems with. Then there are those mandated by law required to see me.

Several clients I have dealt with over the years can and has been considered by society as the lowest of the low. Child molesters. Others still, are rapists of unsuspecting women. These are cases I am used to.

This is much more different.

This man came to me revealing his darkest secrets, yet professes the need to go out and do it again and again.

Out the outset of our communication, he asked if what we spoke about would be confidential. I said, yes.

Patient privilege, as related to medical confidentiality, is designed to protect my clients, and myself from being used against the patient in court. It is a part of the rules of evidence in many of the common law jurisdictions.

However, in this case, it is still a story told to me. No actual name was given, no location, no date, no time. What evidence do I have that would require me to call the police?

I suppose I could use the Tarasoff Rule. If I determine, that he would present a serious danger of violence to another, then it is my obligation to use reasonable care to protect the intended victim against such danger. But who is the next intended victim? And was there an actual victim to begin with?

He is to be here tomorrow, and said he wanted to show me something. Perhaps then, my questions will become defined with answers where a better decision can be formed.

Thursday - 2:46 pm ... In the country

"As you can see, five graves, side by side. Found this off-road path some years ago. This was where I first brought the dead. Don't ask their names. Long forgotten. Just know they had to go. Call it my calling. Rid the world of useless people. Make room for useful people. Like you. Like me.

"Before you ask, yeah, there are more. Over five-hundred now, I think. Started twelve years ago. Buried from Oregon to East Texas. The urge to reconcile life and death has been with me since I killed a pet rabbit when I was five. They makde hardly any noise when you slit their throats. Did you know that? Doesn't matter.

"I brought you here so you know my telling isn't something I made up in my head. I told you because, like I said, I have this growing need to share my actions with you.

"The thing now is; now that you know, do I trust you enough to let you live with my secret, or do I dig another grave next to these?

"Don't worry. You're safe. Too many people know you, and you do have value. Odd as this may sound, I even trust you."

That was two days ago. He didn't know I taped our conversation. But I do have the reasons before me to contact the police to at least begin an investigation. They could recover the bodies and make identification, then arrest the one responsible. Him.

The police may be curious as to why I waited so long to contact them. Professional ethics. But we can throw ethics out the window now. Tomorrow morning, I make the call.

"Not a good idea, my friend. Remember, I trust you. Trusted you. Do not go back on that trust. After all, we have so much more work left to do."

As with past messages, it was deleted. I shut the recorder off, slipped it in my pocket. Walked out of my office, locked the door, and walked home.

Yes, we have so much more to do.