I sweat from the heat of the studio lights. Sitting in my uncomfortable armchair, I cross my legs and place my palms on top of my knee as one of the makeup artists does last-minute touch-ups to my face.
In my peripheral vision, I see another makeup artist doing the same to Erika Lam.
Erika is one of the most famous anchors in broadcast history.
She's interviewed presidents, dictators, Olympic athletes, movie stars, and pop stars.
Anyone who is anyone has been interviewed by Erika Lam.
The thought that she would be interviewing me today about a book I wrote is overwhelming to say the least. I didn’t set off down this path thinking that it would lead to fame or anything resembling that.
No, you don't get into something like this for fame. It’s a nice byproduct, though. The more awareness I can raise, the better.
“You look good,” the makeup artist says. I smile at her, having forgotten her name and feeling terrible about that. I just nod, unable to find words.
I’m suddenly wishing that my psychiatric service dog, Ghost, wasn’t back in my dressing room resting, and instead here by my side. I should have brought him out with me.
I glance over at Erika, hoping she doesn't see me, taking surreptitious looks at her. I feel like I'm in the presence of someone truly great. A journalist that I looked up to when I was younger.
I bite my lip and then immediately remember, I have lip gloss on. It’s something I don't normally wear.
I press my lips together, trying to correct whatever damage I might have done by biting it, cross my legs, and straighten my blouse. It's navy blue. Far more expensive than anything I own.
I tried my best to get them to dress me as I normally might. Which is to say completely casual and without any frills.
But apparently that wasn't good enough for Good Morning Today.
The pressed blue shirt is stiff against my skin. I can feel the starch. It practically holds me upright, correcting my bad posture.
I look out from the stage and see everyone taking their places.
The makeup artist finishes with Erika, who says nothing to me. She just stares straight forward and I take a cue from her doing the same.
Finally, one of the guys behind the camera starts counting down from five, and when it gets to one he simply holds up a single finger.
And then we're live.
Erika speaks with that same presence I've come to know over the years. She puts it on as easily as trying on clothes.
“We have a special guest here today. Josephine Larson is an investigative journalist. She has spent the last year interviewing none other than the Heartland Hunter serial killer, Nathan Kelly, and her recent book about him has become a New York Times bestseller. Nightmare on the Trail: The Heartland Hunter, a book that was created after extensive interviews with serial killer Nathan Kelly at a maximum security prison in Colorado. Without further ado, how are you doing today, Josephine?”
Erika turns her attention to me and I freeze.
The studio lights are so damn bright and it’s so quiet in here, I can hear my heart beating.
She smiles at me, giving me an encouraging nod, begging me to speak, and I find my voice.
“I’m doing well,” I say. “Thank you for having me today.”
This is just like any other interview, I tell myself. Even though this one's a lot bigger. This stage is a lot bigger. This audience is a lot bigger.
But Erika does her best to put me at ease.
“Congratulations on your book sales. I think that this is a topic that many Americans are very interested in, particularly women. I find it interesting that women seem to be the biggest consumers of true crime. And you yourself have spent a long time in the company of a serial killer that specifically targeted women. What's that been like?”
“Well,” I say. “I have a theory about that. I think a lot of women have an obsession with true crime because we are the primary victims of serial killers. The primary victims of violence, with the statistics being even higher for people of color and the LGBT+ community.
“Listening to these podcasts and watching these shows about grisly murders is a means of protecting ourselves. We want to educate ourselves about the thing that poses the greatest threat to us. When a woman goes on a date, she tells her friends where she's going because there's a chance she might not come back. When men go on a date, they don't do that sort of thing, at least not to the same extent. They don't think twice about asking to pick you up at your house. Many men who mean well come off as creepy by trying to be nice, but women have to think about those things. And I think that's why we have an affinity for true crime.
“We’ve heard too many stories about women that were picked up for a date and never seen again. Or who left their drink with a guy and went to the bathroom, only to wake up with no memory of the night. The world is a different place for women than it is for men. And I think that’s why women gravitated to this book. To the true crime community as a whole. As far as what it's been like interviewing Nathan Kelly, it's been enlightening in a very dark way. Learning how this person thinks and views the world. How he views women, in particular.
"Learning that not everyone feels the same kind of empathy that you do is jarring at first, but I did my best to keep an emotional distance between myself and Kelly.”
“That must have been hard, considering your personal connection to one of his crimes.”
“Incredibly,” I admit.
“I think that’s something that gave a unique spin to your book,” Erika says. “The fact that one of the victims was your friend’s mother. And that the two of you were camping with her when she went missing.”
I nod.
“Was Nathan Kelly aware of that when you were interviewing him?” she asks.
This is the part I was dreading.
“He was. At first, I didn’t feel that it would do anything but make my interviews with him more complicated. And I didn’t want him to be able to exploit that point of vulnerability.”
“Did he try to manipulate you?” Erika asks.
“He tried very hard,” I say. “But I kept a firm wall up with him for the most part.” Though there were times I said too much. “And I think that the study of serial killers is necessary. If we're ever going to advance psychology to the point that we might be able to pinpoint the signs early that someone might become one of these dangerous individuals.”
Erika nods as I speak, like she's taking every word very seriously.
It's a gratifying realization.
Sometimes I’m not sure if there is value in what I did. Sometimes I think that maybe I'm just a ghoul, staring at a sideshow.
“It seems like you would have to keep that emotional distance,” she says. “This had to have a very personal impact for you, writing this book. Has your friend read it?” Erika asks.
I freeze.
Jordan hasn’t read it, though she told me I was doing the right thing. For a moment, the studio disappears and I’m in the woods. I’m grabbing her upper arm so tightly that it leaves a bruise the next morning.
I clear my throat and come back to reality.
“She hasn’t read it,” I say. “But she gave her blessing.”
“It’s probably a hard thing for her to read,” Erika says.
“To say the least,” I remark.
In a way, it’s not my story to tell. But I was there. And more people need to know about what happened that night. One day, I think it might make a difference.
“Have you always had an interest in darker things? Beyond your personal connection to this?” Erika asks.
“Yes,” I say. “Ever since I was a little girl, about eight or nine years old,” I go on. “I loved R.L. Stein's Goosebumps. I loved Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark. I couldn’t get enough of them. My favorite thing as a kid was when my dad would tell us stories around the fire. They were always about monsters and ghosts, that sort of thing. And I think as I grew up I realized that those aren't the monsters we need to be worried about. It's the monsters we meet in our everyday lives. Real flesh and blood humans are the monsters, and that's the scariest part of all of this. They can look like anyone. They can be anyone. It could be someone you know, someone you trust, even. These people often lead double lives,” I say.
“What was it like the first time you met Nathan Kelly?” Erika asks. “Did he look like he could have been just anyone?”
I still remember the first time I set eyes on him.
He looked me up and down, like I was a snack to be devoured. He used my first name. We’d talked on the phone prior to that, when he’d agreed to be interviewed.
In that moment, I knew he'd looked at each and every one of those women that way.
The thought was chilling.
“He looked like he could have been anyone,” I admit. “But there was something about his presence that made me uneasy.”
Nathan Kelly had the blackest eyes of anyone I've ever met. His irises were such a dark brown that his pupils were indistinguishable from them.
It gave him this demonic look.
And when he laughed, it completed the image.
“He spoke to me about his crimes as so many of these people do: without any sort of emotion. The strongest feeling I think any of them have when they're recalling these events is pleasure. I think they find it enjoyable to go back over their crimes with people who want to interview them. That's one of the disturbing parts of writing this book. He liked telling me what he had done to women. He liked seeing my reaction. And at first I did react a lot. I tried to keep that at bay when interviewing him, to not let him know that the things that he’d done were scary to me.
“But sometimes it's hard. Especially with a criminal like Nathan Kelly.”
“It should be,” Erika says, holding up my book for the camera. “There are many descriptions of Mr. Kelly's actions in this book that would be disturbing to some. It is said that he is the most gruesome serial killer the United States has ever seen. I would caution anyone who is going to purchase the book to be aware of that. Josephine has not altered his descriptions or censored them in any way. It's a difficult read, but very well worthwhile.
“Thank you so much for being here,” she says, turning to me. “I think the work you’ve done is noble.”
I don't agree with her.
I just smile and nod. And then I thank her.
“We'll be back right after this,” she says into the monitor and then someone yells “To commerical!”
I relax, realizing that I’ve been holding my body as rigid as humanly possible this whole time. Only breathing enough to answer each question. I realize I'm sweating under my arms ferociously.
“Thank you so much for being here,” Erika says to me off camera.
I nod and thank her for the opportunity.
But there's still a part of me that feels like maybe I'm no better than PT Barnum, leading people to the sideshow to look at the freaks.
I'm not a forensic psychologist.
I'm an investigative journalist.
One of my biggest skills is getting people to talk.
Something about me disarms them. Maybe it's that I'm small, blond, blue-eyed.
I look like I could be the girl next door.
There's nothing about me that's intimidating.
Probably unlike the FBI agents and psychologists that the government sends.
I think Nathan Kelly enjoyed talking to me. And the whole while I was talking to him, I never quite got out of him exactly what I wanted.
I stand up from my seat and I'm ushered back to my dressing room.
They thank me for being on the show and I thank them again for the opportunity. And then I'm left alone to gather my things. Ghost is just where I left him, as well-behaved as ever. When I tell him to settle, he lays down and doesn’t move from that spot until I tell him to.
The television is still playing in the dressing room, broadcasting a commercial in between the segments on Good Morning Today.
I pack up my things and stuff them into my bag. I just brought a backpack. Hardly professional. I change out of the clothes that they gave me back into the ones that I left in the dressing room. A t-shirt and jeans.
It's then that Erika comes back on the air and I glance up at her, wondering if I was really just interviewed by someone that I've admired for a really long time.
Her face isn't gleeful though.
There's a strain in her look. And I listen as she speaks.
“We've just been handed a breaking report that a young woman has flagged down help on an Alaskan highway in a remote part of the mountains. The woman was nude and reported being held by a man she believes to have been a serial killer. She is being interviewed by police and they are not making any comment right now,” Erika says.
“Talk about relevance,” her co-host Amy Potter says.
“Indeed,” Erika says.
Amy touches my book on the desk.
“This sort of stuff is relevant now more than ever,” she says.
I stare at the screen with a sinking feeling in my gut and look at Ghost, still resting in the corner. He pops his head up now, though, and walks over to me, pawing my leg, to let me know that my heart rate is speeding up.
