This is going to be very hard for me to write, but I've decided that the risk
to me is outweighed by the chance of saving a life.  I am still going to do
everything possible to prevent you from finding out who I am, while giving you
enough information to hopefully prevent a tragedy, although it has probably
already happened anyway.  I was walking on a biking/hiking trail (and I can't
tell you which one because witnesses might remember seeing my car, which might
lead you to me) a little before sunset three days ago.  I took a loop of the
trail most people don't take.  There was a car parked on the trail, blocking
half of it, and cars aren't even supposed to be on the trail at all.  I was a
bit angry so I stopped by the car to cuss out the driver.  The driver was gone,
but just as I was about to leave I saw a movement in the back.	The car was an
old station wagon, a sort of brownish-cream-yellow-icky color with simulated
wood panels.  I glanced in the back and there were two girls there.  I looked
around to see if the car's owner (presumably their parent) was around, but
didn't see anyone, so I went to the back to say hello to them.  I was very
surprised and horrified to see that they were both tied up and gagged.	One
girl, who was six to eight, had her arms behind her, I assumed tied, and her
knees and feet were tied together also.  The other girl was about seven to nine
years old.  Her wrists were tied together behind her neck, and her ankles were
tied together.	She was partially covered by a towel, but I could see she was
bare from just below her armpits and up, and from her knees down.  When they
saw me they started struggling and it looked like they were trying to yell, but
I don't remember hearing them.  As the older girl struggled, her towel slid
aside a few inches and I could see she was completely undressed.  I quickly
tried opening the back door, then went around the car trying all the doors, but
they were all locked.  The windows were tightly shut.  So I tried a trick from
a movie, I hit the back window with my fist.  I think I may have broken my
knuckle, but the window held solid.  (Don't bother checking around, I'm not
going to see a doctor about it, no matter how much it hurts, so you can't find
me that way).  I knew I didn't have enough strength to hit again hard enough
to break it.  I looked for anything I could use to break it, but there wasn't
even a rock handy.  Then I lost my head, I thought of my tire iron in my car
back in the parking lot, and took off at a run to get it.  I didn't stop to
get a licence number, or make or model of the car, or distinguishing marks.
I ran as hard as I could, but my car was at least a quarter of a mile away and
I am not in very good condition.  What's the speed record for running a half
a mile, about two minutes?  It must have taken me at least four minutes, and
probably more like seven minutes, to get to my car, get the tire iron from the
trunk, and get back to the other car.  It didn't help that in my panic I made
a wrong turn in the trail and had to backtrack a hundred yards.  I stood there
and cried when I got back and saw that the station wagon was gone.   I went up
to where I thought it had been and looked around, not knowing what else to do.
I had a sickening thought, and walked down from the trail into the trees,
hoping against hope that I wouldn't find anything.  I searched for a few
minutes, finding nothing, feeling a mixture of grief and failure, but growing
relief.  Then I saw her body, laying face down in a small depression.  I ran
up to her.  She was no longer tied, but she wasn't moving.  I've had a little
bit of first aid training, so I turned her over, checking for bleeding, found
only small wet stains on a few places on her head, checked her pulse and found
none, and checked her breathing and found none.  I knelt beside her and started
giving her CPR and artificial respiration, knowing that I had seen her alive
only a few minutes earlier.  I was no expert, since I've never done CPR before,
but I hoped I would be competent enough to save her.

Here's the part that just tears my guts apart.  I am crying as I write this,
and wishing that this was all just a nightmare, that I could wake up and be a
completely different person, that my entire life would just go away and be
replaced by a normal person's life.  I was kneeling over this murdered naked
little girl's body, with my tire iron on the ground beside me, desperately
trying to save her life, praying hard for help, when I heard voices coming
down the hiking trail.	I absolutely panicked, much worse than before, only
this time I was concerned for my own life.  I threw her back into the place
I had found her, hidden from the trail, and ducked behind the widest tree I
could reach in time.  Two men passed by above me, I could hear them talking but
couldn't understand the words.  When they had passed, I grabbed my tire iron
and ran back to my car, through the trees instead of taking the trail.  I made
sure no one saw me get into the car, and hoped like anything no one had seen
me running with my tire iron before.  None of the following passed through my
conscious mind at the time, or maybe all of it did and I don't remember, but
you should have some explanation of why I didn't just call out to the men for
help, have them call an ambulance and the police or something.	I have no more
respect for the police and the courts than I do for the person who killed that
girl, and they have no more respect for me than they do for the murderer.  I
have been arrested, tried, convicted, and jailed for several counts (I won't
tell you how many charges or how many trials or how many years, you can smugly
believe in at least 5 years per charge, and you'll be close) of the so-called
felony of gently and lovingly undressing, hugging, kissing, and caressing two
smiling, giggling, and completely consenting girls, age five to nine (that's as
close as I'm going to say) over the course of several months or years.  They
undoubtedly have records of the charges that were dropped because some other
girls resisted being forced to testify against me.  I knew subconsciously
that if I was found kneeling beside that little girl's naked body, regardless
of anything I said or did, I would go to jail for the rest of my life, even if
she lived.  The police would check my arrest record while questioning me, and
I would never breathe free air again.  They'd get a search warrant, tear up
my home and find all of my so-called child pornography, all the articles I
had saved from newspapers, all the pictures I had taken and collected since
getting out of jail, all the dreams I had written down in a diary, all the
little girl's clothing I had bought at rummage sales.  Everything I cherished
would all be used as evidence against me.  They'd find my footprints by the
body, wounds on her head that could have been inflicted by a tire iron (and
for all I know that's exactly what killed her), they'd find my tire iron right
there with only my fingerprints on it, they would find my saliva on her lips,
and skin from her breasts under my fingernails.  There wouldn't be one single
person on the face of the earth who would believe my story for an instant,
not even my own brother, and especially not the public defender.  I had no
choice at all.	The police, the judges, the jurists, the lawyers, the senate,
the house, the governor, even the little girl's own parents and grandparents,
all of them together forced me, under threat of being tortured to death by my
so-called fellow criminals, to run away and let that little girl die, when I
might have saved her precious life.  Now I sit here with my heart breaking for
her, wishing there was some way I could take back what I did, wishing that I
had had the courage to throw my life away to save hers.  Even if she had lived
I would have gone to jail.  After the police checked my record, they wouldn't
have hesitated a minute to search my home, and I would have been charged with
at least fifty felony counts of the harmless act of taking pictures of girls
who frolicked and giggled and played for hours, unashamed of their nakedness
and completely unaware that they were being photographed.  Of course if I have
somehow given you enough clues to find me, the very act of writing this letter
could destroy my life.	All of you are again forcing me to choose between a
little girl's chance at life, and my own survival, but this time I can be more
in control, so as I said at the start, I've decided that my risk is outweighed
by her chance at life.

Of course I'm talking about the other little girl in the car, just in case
you've forgotten her.  I went back to the trail two days later, after reading
and hearing nothing about a body being found, didn't see any police near the
place, and searched for another body.  I only went close enough to the first
girl's body to see it was still there.  I searched the area enough that I am
quite sure the other girl was not killed and left there like the first.  Since
she may still be alive, I am writing this to tell you to look for the station
wagon.  PLEASE don't dismiss this as a hoax.  I'm going to give you as many
details as I can without telling you anything that might lead you to me.  Blame
yourselves if that isn't very much.  You so delightedly go about destroying
the lives of harmless people like me that you force some of us over the edge
out of desperation.  I can understand exactly what led the murderer to commit
his crime, you've got so many children brainwashed to never let anyone touch
them or see them naked, and you're so efficient at guarding every child every
moment, that there is only one way left for most of us to get the physical
affection that so-called normal people take for granted, and that's by using
force.  I would never hurt a girl under any circumstances, I believe, but I
know that the more frustrated people get, the more unpredictable their actions
become.  If you would just leave people like me alone, and let us harmlessly
create mutually enjoyable relationships with children, without teaching them
that we've done utterly horrible things to them by gently, lovingly touching
them, then there would be a lot less people driven to despicable acts such as
threatening, raping, or bribing children, and none of us would ever be driven
to kidnap and murder.  I doubt I'll ever see such tolerance in my lifetime.  I
should tell you what I remember about the car and stop wasting my time pouring
out my troubles that none of you give a damn about anyway, except to gloat
over.  It's just that you're stuck reading the rest of this letter to get the
information you want, and I finally had a chance to say some things I have
wanted to say for all of my life, in a way you can't ignore.  As I said before
the car has simulation wood panels on the side, and the paint is indescribably
blah, something like sand dyed yellow then faded in the sun.  That's not right
either, but I can't think of a better description.  There was something small
hanging from the mirror inside.  The interior was a little darker than the
outside but about the same color.  I remember one taillight was cracked,
diagonally down to the right.  The back door was one where the window rolled
down, then the gate could open, I think, but I can't be sure because it didn't
open or roll down when I tried it.  Just great, I even left fingerprints on
the murderer's car, so if you find it, you catch me, too.  Damn it damn it
damn it damn it damn it.  Well you people think you're so righteous and perfect
and so much better than pedophiles, now you have to live with the fact that two
little girls may have died because of your obsession with destroying my life.
Because I changed my mind again, I'm not going to send this letter until I'm
sure the weather has worn my fingerprints off the car, and by then that little
girl will probably have been murdered and left in the woods like the first.  I
wish this society would let me help prevent real felonies without crucifying me
for committing imaginary felonies.  I guess she's getting what you've earned
for your intolerance.  I hope you have a heart attack when you find the bodies,
even then it won't be half as much pain as I'm feeling right now.

I'm adding this to the letter much later.  I haven't changed anything I wrote
above.	Everything I wrote about happened last year and I never did send it
because I was afraid for my safety.  I almost killed myself.  (Go ahead, you
all say, the sooner the better, one pervert less is the world's gain, shoot
yourself, can I lend you a bullet?)  How would you feel about yourself if you
knew that everyone you pass on the street hates your guts and wants you dead,
even though you've never hurt anyone?  How much would you want to help them?
Why shouldn't I kidnap and murder too, no one would hate me any worse or treat
me any worse.  A felon is just a felon, after all, unless he's a goddamned
perverted child molester too, like me.  If I finally turn to harmful illegal
acts, it will be because the harmless acts I really want to do are just as
illegal and far, far riskier.  And you'll have only yourselves to blame for all
of the harm I do.  Nobody cares about the pain we feel, but if you cared at all
about the pain felt by children and their parents, you'd stop molesting the
harmless pedophiles.  Then you'd see how few of us are harmful by choice.
