Love Street
Love Street
Love Street
The Love Street slaughters began in 2002 and didn’t let up for five years. These terrifying massacres completely changed the once vibrant and colourful community that lived on Love Street. Over the years people had either moved away or been killed during that five year period. The street is still inhabited but is mostly occupied by drug addicts or people who can’t afford a better place. Before those brutal slayings began the street glowed with the care that went into its upkeep. I used to live on that haunting street but I was one of the survivors I moved out in 2007 and watched from a distance the decline of my former home. My name is Ted Peyote and I am making a record of these occurrences to come to terms with the terrible events of Love Street.
Love Street was a strangely small street. Cut off at both ends by other intersecting roads, it broke the quiet orderly pattern of the calm suburban streets. The short street contained only 10 houses. I was on the end of the street, Raoul Duke was my neighbour and old widowed Mrs Palmers lived across the street. We were a tight nit community so it came as great shock when the murders began. I can still clearly remember the first body we discovered one hot summer afternoon. Well actually there were two bodies. The way this killer worked was house by house, not person by person. The young couple had been living on Love Street for only a year and had chosen the street in the hopes they could settle down and start a family. I didn’t know the two particularly well because they lived on the other end of the street and were usually too busy with work to do much in the community. It had been Mrs Livingston from across the street who had made the initial discovery after which, she came screaming down the street in sheer terror. Duke and I had gone to investigate further and found the couple dead on their bed, each with a small red hole in their throats. We contacted the police quickly after and they wasted no time in roping off the new crime scene and professionally inspecting the corpses. Despite taking an entire week to comb the house for clues or evidence the cops turned up nothing. So they gave up, took down the crime scene tape, and finally cleaned up the massive amount of blood in the bedroom. All that they had learned was that the two had been killed at around 2 am by a single gunshot to the throat each. There had been no shell casings and it was impossible to analyze the bullets because they had been smashed up when they hit the couple’s spines. Having no leads or witnesses the case went cold and the couple had a simultaneous funeral in which both families attended.
The aftermath of this first event was not as bad as it would become. After all as far as we knew it was just a random murder, we weren’t yet aware that our street in particular was being targeted. Mrs Palmers had organized a small charity to raise money for the couple’s funeral and everyone on Love Street contributed. Two weeks later after all the turmoil and panic had settled people began to whisper as they often do in small communities. They turned their irritating gossip towards my neighbour Raoul Duke. He was and odd man. The 300 pound Samoan was 35 years old and a bit eccentric. Almost all the time Duke wore one black leather glove on his left hand and he worked at a convenience store downtown. He participated in all community events but wasn’t very sociable. Duke only ever talked to me and Mrs Palmers. We were the only ones on the street that completely trusted Duke.
The next string of deaths came the next year and was just as surprising as the first murders. This time it was a family of four. The Smith family’s bodies had been found two days after the actual killing. The two parents had been found in their beds, shot in the throat, just like their neighbours, the young couple. The two Smith kids had also been killed in the exact same manner. Once again not much evidence was found but they did manage to identify the calibre of round used. One of the shots had missed their 5 year old son’s spine and had instead exited through the back of his neck and embedded itself in his mattress. It was a .357 magnum round, which puzzled authorities because they also believed that a silenced weapon was being used. It’s very difficult to silence revolvers and requires a special type of ammunition to properly silence the killing tool. The retrieved bullet was still too mangled to tell if it was a special round or a regular one. The reason they suspected a silenced gun was because it appeared that all occupants of the house had been killed while still sleeping, and magnums tend to make loud noises. The only other shred of evidence they gathered was the suspicion that the killer may be a part of the Love Street community. Now people began to get scared and the family of three that had lived next door to the Smith’s moved away a couple months latter. Now the three houses on the end of Love Street were vacant and the young couple’s old house had already begun to deteriorate and marked the first sign of the decline of Love Street. Gossip turned once again to reclusive Duke who had shown no reaction to the new killing. Truth is Duke confessed only to me and probably Mrs Palmers that he was a bit afraid but not worried. Duke was like that, kind of laid back. As the year of 2003 came to a close the three of us sort of separated from the rest of the community. Without us, the Love Street community had been reduced to four households.
It was about this time, during 2004, that I began to collect newspaper clippings and any other shred of information on what was now tentatively titled the “Love Street Slaughters”. I watched every news show and all reports mentioning the murders and became as informed about the ongoing cases as I could. Mrs Palmers didn’t bother me about my morbid fascination but it disturbed Duke. He told me I should just let the police do their job, said it wasn’t healthy to have such a fascination with death. But even when the media attention died down I was constantly searching for any information on new leads, developments in the case, anything. The media attention died down quite a bit in 2004 because no murder occurred on Love Street that year. People had almost calmed down but in the middle of 2005 a family of three was once again murdered in the same manner as the previous two. Immediately after this new killing two more families put their houses up for sale and were gone by the end of the year. This time it was different though because this time there had been a shred of evidence. In the teenage daughters bedroom they had found an unfinished letter which detailed the community’s plans to try to maintain the now decrepit abandoned houses and if this family could agree to maintain one. This without a doubt placed the killer in the community of Love Street. They couldn’t get any finger prints off the crumpled paper for which I am thankful. It was my letter and my plan to try to fix up those vacant houses. I have no clue how it got to be in that house but it was frightening none the less. Everyone in the neighbourhood was questioned thoroughly after this disturbing find but the cops didn’t uncover enough to charge anyone. This recent killing provided a surge of media information which I gladly collected. I had purchased a cork board to hold the numerous newspaper clippings I had gathered.
In 2006 no killings occurred but two shady people began renting one of the vacant rundown houses. I guess it was these two people that really signalled the fall of our once beautiful community. It was during this year I began to make plans to leave Love Street. But I couldn’t leave just yet I still had things to do, Mrs Palmers and Duke were planning to stick around. Duke hadn’t been much affected by the killings at all and continued about his life. Mrs Palmers however, had become extremely melancholy and tactful. She still maintained her yard and kept her property looking nice but did so with a bit less warmth. It was at the beginning of the year 2007 that she was murdered. This was the killing that landed Raoul Duke in jail because at the crime scene this time they discovered a right handed black leather glove covered in gun shot residue and blood. Of course the cops didn’t know that Duke always wore just a left handed glove. No one left on Love Street would vouch for Duke because they all thought he did it anyway. The only person who would have told the cops that Duke had never owned a right handed glove would have been Mrs. Palmers. I kept my mouth shut and Duke went to jail for life being branded “The Love Street Slaughterer”. After his arrest they searched his house and discovered a .357 revolver but not the special kind of ammunition required to silence the weapon. It didn’t matter they still had more than enough to convict Duke. They reasoned that Duke must have written the letter, not knowing how little initiative he had in the community. Once all that bad business was sorted out, I left Love Street and moved across town, taking my morbid gallery of newspaper clippings with me. I stopped following the murders as soon as they convicted Duke, case closed.
Now, 10 miles away from that dead street, I’m writing this record. I have since sold my customized .357 revolver which used unique rounds. The corkboard covered in my own work is hidden safely in a dusty corner of my attic. The only people alive that know Duke didn’t kill those people are myself and Duke. And only I know the real culprit. He will likely remain in prison the rest of his life, he isn’t even trying to shake off the blame, he simply accepts it. The writing of this document has helped me come to terms with my insane actions during those five years on Love Street. I do regret what happened to Duke, he was a good friend to me. But even more so I mourn for old Mrs Palmers. That sweet old lady who loved nothing more than to see and take pride in her well kept lawn and bright colourful flowers. The Love Street slayings broke down her spirit and eventually took her life. But it was painfully necessary that she died, because she was the only person who could have prevented Duke’s conviction. She lived on Love Street. She died on Love Street
The Love Street slaughters began in 2002 and didn’t let up for five years. These terrifying massacres completely changed the once vibrant and colourful community that lived on Love Street. Over the years people had either moved away or been killed during that five year period. The street is still inhabited but is mostly occupied by drug addicts or people who can’t afford a better place. Before those brutal slayings began the street glowed with the care that went into its upkeep. I used to live on that haunting street but I was one of the survivors I moved out in 2007 and watched from a distance the decline of my former home. My name is Ted Peyote and I am making a record of these occurrences to come to terms with the terrible events of Love Street.
Love Street was a strangely small street. Cut off at both ends by other intersecting roads, it broke the quiet orderly pattern of the calm suburban streets. The short street contained only 10 houses. I was on the end of the street, Raoul Duke was my neighbour and old widowed Mrs Palmers lived across the street. We were a tight nit community so it came as great shock when the murders began. I can still clearly remember the first body we discovered one hot summer afternoon. Well actually there were two bodies. The way this killer worked was house by house, not person by person. The young couple had been living on Love Street for only a year and had chosen the street in the hopes they could settle down and start a family. I didn’t know the two particularly well because they lived on the other end of the street and were usually too busy with work to do much in the community. It had been Mrs Livingston from across the street who had made the initial discovery after which, she came screaming down the street in sheer terror. Duke and I had gone to investigate further and found the couple dead on their bed, each with a small red hole in their throats. We contacted the police quickly after and they wasted no time in roping off the new crime scene and professionally inspecting the corpses. Despite taking an entire week to comb the house for clues or evidence the cops turned up nothing. So they gave up, took down the crime scene tape, and finally cleaned up the massive amount of blood in the bedroom. All that they had learned was that the two had been killed at around 2 am by a single gunshot to the throat each. There had been no shell casings and it was impossible to analyze the bullets because they had been smashed up when they hit the couple’s spines. Having no leads or witnesses the case went cold and the couple had a simultaneous funeral in which both families attended.
The aftermath of this first event was not as bad as it would become. After all as far as we knew it was just a random murder, we weren’t yet aware that our street in particular was being targeted. Mrs Palmers had organized a small charity to raise money for the couple’s funeral and everyone on Love Street contributed. Two weeks later after all the turmoil and panic had settled people began to whisper as they often do in small communities. They turned their irritating gossip towards my neighbour Raoul Duke. He was and odd man. The 300 pound Samoan was 35 years old and a bit eccentric. Almost all the time Duke wore one black leather glove on his left hand and he worked at a convenience store downtown. He participated in all community events but wasn’t very sociable. Duke only ever talked to me and Mrs Palmers. We were the only ones on the street that completely trusted Duke.
The next string of deaths came the next year and was just as surprising as the first murders. This time it was a family of four. The Smith family’s bodies had been found two days after the actual killing. The two parents had been found in their beds, shot in the throat, just like their neighbours, the young couple. The two Smith kids had also been killed in the exact same manner. Once again not much evidence was found but they did manage to identify the calibre of round used. One of the shots had missed their 5 year old son’s spine and had instead exited through the back of his neck and embedded itself in his mattress. It was a .357 magnum round, which puzzled authorities because they also believed that a silenced weapon was being used. It’s very difficult to silence revolvers and requires a special type of ammunition to properly silence the killing tool. The retrieved bullet was still too mangled to tell if it was a special round or a regular one. The reason they suspected a silenced gun was because it appeared that all occupants of the house had been killed while still sleeping, and magnums tend to make loud noises. The only other shred of evidence they gathered was the suspicion that the killer may be a part of the Love Street community. Now people began to get scared and the family of three that had lived next door to the Smith’s moved away a couple months latter. Now the three houses on the end of Love Street were vacant and the young couple’s old house had already begun to deteriorate and marked the first sign of the decline of Love Street. Gossip turned once again to reclusive Duke who had shown no reaction to the new killing. Truth is Duke confessed only to me and probably Mrs Palmers that he was a bit afraid but not worried. Duke was like that, kind of laid back. As the year of 2003 came to a close the three of us sort of separated from the rest of the community. Without us, the Love Street community had been reduced to four households.
It was about this time, during 2004, that I began to collect newspaper clippings and any other shred of information on what was now tentatively titled the “Love Street Slaughters”. I watched every news show and all reports mentioning the murders and became as informed about the ongoing cases as I could. Mrs Palmers didn’t bother me about my morbid fascination but it disturbed Duke. He told me I should just let the police do their job, said it wasn’t healthy to have such a fascination with death. But even when the media attention died down I was constantly searching for any information on new leads, developments in the case, anything. The media attention died down quite a bit in 2004 because no murder occurred on Love Street that year. People had almost calmed down but in the middle of 2005 a family of three was once again murdered in the same manner as the previous two. Immediately after this new killing two more families put their houses up for sale and were gone by the end of the year. This time it was different though because this time there had been a shred of evidence. In the teenage daughters bedroom they had found an unfinished letter which detailed the community’s plans to try to maintain the now decrepit abandoned houses and if this family could agree to maintain one. This without a doubt placed the killer in the community of Love Street. They couldn’t get any finger prints off the crumpled paper for which I am thankful. It was my letter and my plan to try to fix up those vacant houses. I have no clue how it got to be in that house but it was frightening none the less. Everyone in the neighbourhood was questioned thoroughly after this disturbing find but the cops didn’t uncover enough to charge anyone. This recent killing provided a surge of media information which I gladly collected. I had purchased a cork board to hold the numerous newspaper clippings I had gathered.
In 2006 no killings occurred but two shady people began renting one of the vacant rundown houses. I guess it was these two people that really signalled the fall of our once beautiful community. It was during this year I began to make plans to leave Love Street. But I couldn’t leave just yet I still had things to do, Mrs Palmers and Duke were planning to stick around. Duke hadn’t been much affected by the killings at all and continued about his life. Mrs Palmers however, had become extremely melancholy and tactful. She still maintained her yard and kept her property looking nice but did so with a bit less warmth. It was at the beginning of the year 2007 that she was murdered. This was the killing that landed Raoul Duke in jail because at the crime scene this time they discovered a right handed black leather glove covered in gun shot residue and blood. Of course the cops didn’t know that Duke always wore just a left handed glove. No one left on Love Street would vouch for Duke because they all thought he did it anyway. The only person who would have told the cops that Duke had never owned a right handed glove would have been Mrs. Palmers. I kept my mouth shut and Duke went to jail for life being branded “The Love Street Slaughterer”. After his arrest they searched his house and discovered a .357 revolver but not the special kind of ammunition required to silence the weapon. It didn’t matter they still had more than enough to convict Duke. They reasoned that Duke must have written the letter, not knowing how little initiative he had in the community. Once all that bad business was sorted out, I left Love Street and moved across town, taking my morbid gallery of newspaper clippings with me. I stopped following the murders as soon as they convicted Duke, case closed.
Now, 10 miles away from that dead street, I’m writing this record. I have since sold my customized .357 revolver which used unique rounds. The corkboard covered in my own work is hidden safely in a dusty corner of my attic. The only people alive that know Duke didn’t kill those people are myself and Duke. And only I know the real culprit. He will likely remain in prison the rest of his life, he isn’t even trying to shake off the blame, he simply accepts it. The writing of this document has helped me come to terms with my insane actions during those five years on Love Street. I do regret what happened to Duke, he was a good friend to me. But even more so I mourn for old Mrs Palmers. That sweet old lady who loved nothing more than to see and take pride in her well kept lawn and bright colourful flowers. The Love Street slayings broke down her spirit and eventually took her life. But it was painfully necessary that she died, because she was the only person who could have prevented Duke’s conviction. She lived on Love Street. She died on Love Street
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short story written for English class