The Knobscot Cannibals

Appendix A: The Times Journal, July 7

MORE HORRORS REVEALED IN KNOBSCOT MURDERS

POLICE ALLEGE CANNIBALISM, SEARCH FOR MORE VICTIMS

Body Identified as Missing Newspaper Publisher

KNOBSCOT — Police confirmed today that the two bodies found at the scene of Saturday's raid in Knobscot may only be the tip of a horrifying iceberg in which at least ten young women may have been systematically murdered and eaten over the last nine months.

According to police, a document found near the body of the estate's owner names other victims who were, according to the document, killed as part of a monthly cannibalistic ritual. Several law enforcement agencies are now combing the estate with the aid of dogs to search for the burial sites of the remains.

Detective Robert Conway of the Massachusetts State Police confirmed that one of the two victims found impaled on spits during the raid has been positively identified as that of Heather Moray, 32, the missing Boston newspaper publisher who was abducted from her Newton home eight days earlier and was the subject of an intense search by State and local police.

The second victim is still officially listed as unknown, but sources close to the investigation say the same document identifies her as a seventeen year old prostitute named Christina who was in the employ of Tony Anatoli, 56, of Dorchester, one of two suspects who fled the scene as police arrived.

The estate, located off Schoodic Road in a remote area of Knobscot, is listed as the property of Byron L. Thomas, 48, advertising manager for the Times Journal, the same Boston newspaper for which Moray was the publisher. Police sources say they arrived at the third floor office of his mansion seconds before he shot himself in the head with a nine millimeter handgun.

Anatoli and a business associate, Eric Reardon, were apparently alerted by a confederate with a cell phone when police arrived at the main gate to the estate. Police believe the two fled on foot through the woods to a waiting car. A nation-wide alert has been sent out for their arrest.

Sources close to the investigation report that the bodies of Moray and the second female were found turning on spits over open fires in separate barbecue pits and died just a few hours before police arrived. Several dining tables had been set up under canopies and two platters large enough to hold human carcasses were set up on butcherblock tables along with sets of professional grade carving knives and stacks of plates. Conway refused to confirm any of these details while the investigation continues, except to admit that the scene was "horrific" and "caused great distress to the officers involved in the raid."

According to Conway, police had received a call from a woman the night before alleging she was being held against her will to perform sexual favors for a group of men who were about to murder two women. She described the victims as "one of my friends" and "the missing woman on TV." He said she sounded hysterical and was unable to give a specific location because she had been brought there blindfolded. It was mid-afternoon before a police helicopter finally spotted smoke from a pair of barbecue pits. Law enforcement personnel arrived too late to save Moray and the other victim.

Presumably the woman who alerted them was one of five females who were among the twenty-five persons arrested at the site. It is unclear which of the women placed the call to police because all five are claiming credit. They all claim to have been forced into prostitution by Anatoli and Parisi under threat of becoming future sacrifices at the cannibal "barbecues."

Both Anatoli and Reardon have lengthy records of arrests for crimes related to the sex industry, and are alleged to have run prostitution rings throughout New England.

The document found by police was apparently written by Thomas and chronicles earlier murders dating back to the disappearance of two young women from Frenchtown, New Jersey: Crystal Perry and Brandi Wyatt. Police say the document makes it clear that Thomas, who describes himself as the "Knobscot Monster," had a strong grudge against Moray, who was his supervisor at the newspaper.

"Once all the facts come out, I don't believe there will be another crime in the history of this country that can compare with this one for grisly horror and revulsion," said Conroy. "These are pretty sick puppies and what they did was so gruesome it turns my stomach to think about it."

Appendix B: Letter to Rachel

NOTE: This letter is postmarked August 1 and did not come to light until after the trial when the recipient, Rachel Ratison, sold it to a supermarket tabloid for a reported $75,000. It was written in longhand by one of the female defendants whose real name has never been released because she is a minor. The letter is reprinted verbatim here, except that misspellings have been corrected in order to make it more readable.

Hi Rachel

Guess where I am. Again. Yup. Sitting in jail. But not for hooking this time. This time they're trying to hang the big one on me. Accomplice to first degree murder, aiding and abetting, shit like that! My numbnuts court appointed lawyer says they're just trying to scare me. Well it sure is working!

Have you been catching all the hoopla on TV about the cannibal bust where the two women were found roasting over a barbecue pit, one of them being that newspaper lady that got herself snatched, and how the cops arrested a bunch of guys and five working girls? Well guess what! One of those five girls was me!!!

They ain't published my name or nothing because of me being only sixteen and all, but I was right there fucking up a storm with all those rich dudes before the fucking roof fell in. The fucking cops are trying to nail us girls for being part of the killing along with the rich dudes, like we was there because we had a fucking choice! My shithead lawyer wants me to plead guilty to prostitution to satisfy the DA so he can talk him into putting me into hiding as a material witness. But the other lawyers are telling the other girls the DA's got no proof we was paid for fucking those dudes on account of Tony, who was collecting all the cash (as he always does), up and disappeared the instant the cops showed up, him and that fucking Eric, and took our money with em. They was the only ones who escaped. The cops say someone with a cell phone must've tipped em off that a fucking parade of cop cars was tooling through the front gate, so they took off through the woods to a stashed car. Anyway, them lawyers are telling the other girls to say they're innocent victims because they was forced to be there and do all that stuff, so there's no way I'm gonna plead guilty to anything! You think I'm gonna let them girls come off looking like innocent sex slaves while I come off looking like the town whore! Fuck that! Juries think if you'll fuck for money you'll do anything for money, including killing and eating people. No way, Jose!

The DA has been asking me if I was there for any of the other barbecues and if I helped myself to any of the meat. Like I'm dumb enough to answer THAT! What those dickheads don't seem to understand is that Tony and Eric would of had me up there roasting alongside Christina if I give them any shit. Christina was the other girl they cooked, by the way. Remember her? Cute chick, big dark eyes, dark hair, about my height, didn't smile much. Attitude. Tits to die for! Oops, bad choice of words. Anyway, me and her were good buds, but she sassed Tony once too often and next thing you know, they're ripping her guts out and ramming a metal rod up her cunt and out her mouth and putting her over the fire to cook alongside the newspaper lady. And the both of them was alive the whole time!!! Weird thing is you could see they was both trying to scream, being in such pain and all, but not a sound comes out. The guy in charge of the cooking, the chef I guess you'd call him, a dude named Doc, slashed the inside of their throats so they can't so much as peep. They both died while turning slow over the fire, their skin turning bright red! You think I was gonna piss off Tony and wind up like that? Not when he tells me in so many fucking words that I'm next if I don't put out proper for his guests, including hanging around the tables, sitting in their laps, eating with em, pushing my tits in their face, getting them jazzed up for another high-priced round of Pound the Pussy. Hell, he even gave me a fucking quota like I was selling fucking cars. Told me I had to bring in at least $2500 or I'd be worth more to him as meat at the next picnic. And I was doing it, too. I was sucking and fucking and rimming those old dudes every which way — on the beds, on the sofas, on the floors, in the tubs, on the tables, you name it. I must of swallowed a gallon of cum. Hell, I swallowed worse than that! When the cops arrived I was on the lawn getting screwed by a guy from India. He'd just unloaded his jizz in my cunt, and while the cops are boiling out of the cruisers he's shoving his sagging bone into my mouth and pissing down my throat, gripping me hard by the hair so I can't turn away. The cops had to pull him off me so's I wouldn't drown. The way you stay in one piece with Tony and Eric is to do whatever the fuck they say, which is all I was doing.

The rich turds have already got an army of lawyers claiming they didn't know nothing about what was cooking out back in the barbecue pit because they was so busy getting laid by us girls. So you watch — they'll probably all get off with some bullshit charge like statutory rape, or whatever they call fucking a minor these days. I'm thinking the DA knows there's gonna be a lot of TV coverage for this trial and he don't want just a couple of scruffy dudes like Doc and maybe Tony and Eric (if they can catch them, which I doubt) on camera, so he wants to add some hot female flesh. Nothing like a string of sexy young chicks with bulging boobs on trial to keep the ratings up.

But he's got a big problem, because it was one of us girls who called the cops the night before the party and warned them about what was coming down. The girl who called couldn't tell them where it was because we was always blindfolded when they brung us there. That's why it took the cops so long to find us. The DA has been trying to find out which one of us called so he can make her out to be a big fucking hero and lock the rest of us up for life as killers. But that's SO not fair! We was all scared and wanted to get outta there, but only one of us could use the phone. We'd lifted a cell phone from one of the guests because the house phone line was blocked and we all agreed that every one of us would take credit for the call. And that's what we're doing.

Now the fucking DA wants to keep me locked up in here for the next ninety-nine years. I think I'd rather be gutted and cooked because now I'm not only scared, but bored too. If I had a gun I'd shoot myself like that geek who owned the mansion. What a creep he was! Always taunting the newspaper lady, as if she wasn't in enough misery. You know what he did? He strung em up by the neck, both her and Christina. First he stands em up naked on blocks of ice with ropes around their necks, then when it melts he leaves them hanging for at least an hour, kicking and jerking, slowly strangling, their eyes and tongue bugging out. They was barely alive when he took them down. Then when he was sure they'd come to and could feel pain again, he had them sliced open and their guts torn out (which he fed to a pair of Dobermans in a cage). Then he had the women mounted on spits and put over the fire to roast to death. He blew his brains out before the cops could get up to his office. It was on the third floor right above where I was getting fucked on the lawn. I even heard the gun go off. It was while I was pukin up the load of piss from the Indian dude.

That's the kinda stuff that went on while we was trying to keep Tony's customers happy. Anything the customer wanted from us he got, as long as he paid Tony up front. Now the only thing that scares me more than life in prison is being set free and getting caught by one of Tony's goons. I'm trying to remember why I ever went to work for him in the first place. It must have been for money. It sure as hell wasn't his charm.

Jesus! That was three years ago. I was thirteen and had just made my big escape from my asshole step-dad. (Mom still doesn't believe he was fucking me every time I got home from school before she got home from work.) It took me about a month of starving and sleeping in alleys to figure out that wasn't gonna work. But I refused to go home, so I let Tony sweet-talk me into putting my pussy to work. I can remember his exact words. "Long as those pretty titties and that sweet twat are all nicely broke in, why not put them to good use, let them make money for you so's you can sleep in a real bed and eat real food, buy yourself some cool clothes?" I think it was the clothes that did it. Strangers sticking their boners in my holes wasn't a whole lot different than having my asswipe step-father stuff a sock in my mouth and fuck me till I bled, but at least I was being paid for it. At first Tony only took a little of my fees as his "commission." Then he started keeping most of it and beat the shit out of me if I objected. I tried to run off once, but only once. It didn't take him and Eric long to run me down and beat me so bad I couldn't eat or walk for a week. I still had to work, though, only this time Tony kept ALL the money because I looked like shit and he had to offer cut rates.

So when he tells me I have to go to them barbecues and fuck everyone in sight and eat whatever the customers shove in my mouth, including slices of the main course, what the fuck do you think I'm gonna do?

Fuck! Would you believe I'm already horny again? It's been only three days since I was reamed six ways to Sunday by a dozen randy dudes, and here I am sitting on my fucking bunk with little Miss Wetfinger at work on my clit. You know what I can't get outta my head? I keep wondering what's it's like to have that thick metal spit shoved up my cunt and pushed through my body until it comes out my mouth. Then to be cooked and eaten. It's weird, I know, but the image of it is, like, stuck in my mind — the women being basted with a brush as they turn over the fire, the aroma of roasting girl meat, how it tastes, all hot and seasoned! Horrible as it is, it really gives me a rush! The more I think about it, the more I'd rather die as meat roasting over a fire than spend the next ninety-nine years rotting in this cell.

Oh don't worry. The jail spies won't be reading this. I'm giving it to my dufuss lawyer to mail.

So anyway, that's what's going on in my life. What's up in yours, lil' bud? Please write! It gets fucking lonely in this place.

Ever your friend,

[Name withheld]