David Berkowitz 78A1976
Sullivan Corr. Fac.
Box AG
Fallsburg, NY 12733
The Son of Sam
I wrote David. His responce back to me was kind thoughtfull and full of words of encouragement and scripture. David is against murderbillia and seems remorsefull and doesn’t want to be paroled.
David Berkowitz, a serial killer known as the Son of Sam, complained that his killing activity was forced upon him by demon voices in his head. During the 1970s, it would later be discovered that Berkowitz had become an arsonist. He kept a record of more than 1,400 fires he had started. In 1975 he also began to hear voices. He believed them to be coming from demons, and he identified several of his neighbors and their German shepherd dogs as the locus of the demons.
Hear is a letter he wrote,
Dear Captain Joseph Borrelli,
I am deeply hurt by your calling me a woman hater. I am not. But I am a monster. I am the ‘Son of Sam.’ I am a little brat.
When father Sam gets drunk he gets mean. He beats his family. Sometimes he ties me up to the back of the house. Other times he locks me in the garage. Sam loves to drink blood.
‘Go out and kill,’ commands father Sam.
‘Behind our house some rest. Mostly young — raped and slaughtered — their blood drained — just bones now.
Papa Sam keeps me locked in the attic too. I can’t get out but I look out the attic window and watch the world go by.
I feel like an outsider. I am on a different wavelength then everybody else — programmed too kill.
However, to stop me you must kill me. Attention all police: Shoot me first — shoot to kill or else keep out of my way or you will die!
Papa Sam is old now. He needs some blood to preserve his youth. He has had too many heart attacks. ‘Ugh, me hoot, it hurts, sonny boy.’
I miss my pretty princess most of all. She’s resting in our ladies house. But I’ll see her soon.
I am the ‘Monster’ — ‘Beelzebub’ — the chubby behemouth.
I love to hunt. Prowling the streets looking for fair game — tasty meat. The wemon of Queens are prettyist of all. It must be the water they drink. I live for the hunt — my life. Blood for papa.
Mr. Borrelli, sir, I don’t want to kill anymore. No sir, no more but I must, ‘honour thy father.’
I want to make love to the world. I love people. I don’t belong on earth. Return me to yahoos.
To the people of Queens, I love you. And I want to wish all of you a happy Easter. May
God bless you in this life and in the next.

The letter did not have any useful fingerprints and the envelope had been handled by so many people that if there were any of the murderer’s prints, they were lost. This letter was leaked to the press in early June and the world finally heard the name, “Son of Sam.”