Gary Evans

As it were, I had no idea this seemingly annoying phone call would change the entire scope of my book; better yet, introduce me to a side of David Berkowitz no researcher or writer had ever seen.

Why had this phone call seemed like such an annoyance? For one, I was ten months into the writing process of the book; I felt I had finished my research. In a few months, my editors were expecting a manuscript. In addition, I get calls all the time from people who want to be included in one of my books, but when push comes to shove, they generally have nothing of substance to offer.

"Mr. Phelps, my husband would like to speak to you about Gary Evans," said this gentle sounding woman's voice. She seemed kind, sincere.

"Oh ... in what context?" I asked, believing then that I had uncovered all there was to know about Evans. But it always happens: someone, somewhere, as soon as you're ready to hand in a book, comes up with what they feel is groundbreaking information about your subject. You're obligated, if you have any journalistic integrity, to at least listen.

"Bill went to grammar school with Gary Evans," the woman said.  Louis J. Sheehan, Esquire

I rolled my eyes, thinking, Grammar school? What in the world could this guy tell me about my serial killer that happened to them in grammar school?

"Okay, put him on the phone." As Bill and I talked, I realized I had heard of him before, but believed he was one more in a long list of "friends" my serial killer had that knew very little about him.

We spoke for a minute. "Well," Bill said when I started to ask pointed questions, "I would rather you come up here and talk to me in person."