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Welcome to the Serial Killer Podcast. The podcast dedicated to serial killers. Who they were, what they did at episode 115. I am your Norwegian host, Thomas Viborg Thun. This is part four in my Iceman saga. So if you haven't listened to part one, two, and three, do so now before listening to this one.
Tonight, I want to explore Richard Kuklinski's mafia connections a bit more, and also talk a bit more about his murders. Doing so means that this episode will be a more standalone episode than the previous ones, which followed a more chronological storyline.
We delve into quite a bit of graphic violence in this one, so listener discretion is advised. If you can afford a cup of coffee from your local cafe, consider donating that same amount on patreon.com slash the serial killer podcast to support this show.
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For example, there are now a brand new expose regarding Norwegian witch trials and executions, two episodes on torture, an expose on the death penalty, a feature regarding Norway's most famous Satanist, and a very special version of the song Monster Mash. So, head on over to patreon.com slash the serial killer podcast
to get access now. I have an experience that I don't know if I should tell you or not. That it might, it probably would offend a lot of people. I don't know, I don't think I should, I'll go into that. Go ahead. Nah, it's not a good one. Oh, go ahead, tell him. There was a man, he was begging and pleading and praying, I guess. And he was pleased God and all over the place. So I told him he could have a half hour to pray to God.
And if God could come down and change the circumstances, he'd have that time. But God never showed up, and he never changed the circumstances. And that was that. It wasn't too nice. That's one thing I shouldn't have done that one. I shouldn't have done it that way. What you just heard, dear listener, was Richard Kuklinski himself telling the interviewer details from one of his kills.
I think this particular kill, and the way Kuklinski tells it, is important. I have a few comments from listeners that don't think Richard Kuklinski belongs on the Serial Killer podcast, as he quote-unquote killed for a living. Well, the FBI and your humble host operate with the same definition of a serial killer.
It's a person who kills more than three people with a significant time between each murder. Also, the audio clip I played for you just now details how the Iceman didn't just do his job. He played and toyed with his victims well beyond what his various customers dictated.
He closes his retelling by saying that he shouldn't have done what he did to the man who was left alone to pray for thirty minutes. It's important to note that he didn't mean that he shouldn't have killed the man. Oh no. He never regretted doing that. But in his warped sense of morality and honor,
Several years after the murder, he realizes that he probably shouldn't have toyed with the man and left him in utter terror for 30 minutes before killing him. This is just one example of how Kuklinski lacked normal human emotions concerning guilt when it came to hurting other people.
There are dozens more examples of how Kuklinski wasn't just an ice-cold killing machine doing quote-unquote hits for the mafia, but in fact an extremely dangerous serial killer who relished the act of killing. I've already told in previous episodes how the Iceman killed, and enjoyed killing when he was as young as fourteen.
I've also told you how he killed out of passion when a literal partner in crime threatened his family. And, of course, I have detailed how Kuklinski carefully carried out the murder of a man in his employ, all because the man simply wanted to stop being a criminal. That being said, the vast majority of Kuklinski's murders were contract murders, and he got involved in those as a relatively young man.
Roy Albert DeMeo was an Italian-American mobster, slightly older than Richard. Roy DeMeo was a particularly unpleasant man, with an extremely short temper and a passion for violence.
Anthony Gagge, a soldier in the then-powerful Gambino crime family, had noticed DeMeo and told him that he would make even more money with his successful business if he came to work directly for the Gambinos. Through the late 1960s, DeMeo's organized crime prospects increased on two fronts. He continued in the loan-sharking business with Gaggei,
and began developing a crew of young men involved in car theft. It was this collective of criminals that would become known both in the underworld and in law enforcement circles simply as the DeMeo Crew. The first member of the DeMeo Crew was 16-year-old Chris Rosenberg, who met DeMeo in 1966 when he was dealing marijuana at a Canarsie gas station.
DeMeo helped Rosenberg increase his business and profits by loaning him money so that he could deal in larger amounts. By 1972, Rosenberg had introduced his friends to DeMeo and they began working for him as well. The members of the crew included Roy's cousin Joseph Dracula, Guiglielmo, Joseph and Patrick Testa, and Anthony Senter.
DeMeo joined the Brooklyn Credit Union the same year, gaining a position on the board of directors shortly afterwards. He utilized his position to launder money earned through his illegal ventures. He also introduced colleagues at the credit union to a lucrative side business, laundering the money of drug dealers he had become acquainted with.
DeMeo also built up his loan sharking business, with funds stolen from credit union reserves. DeMeo's collection of loan shark customers, while still primarily those in the car industry, soon included other businesses such as a dentist office, an abortion clinic, restaurants and flea markets.
He was also listed as an employee for a Brooklyn company named S&C Sportswear Corporation and frequently told his neighbors he worked in construction, food retailing and the used car business. As the 1970s continued, DeMeo cultivated his followers into a crew experienced with the process of murdering and dismembering victims.
They did murders for other people as some kind of a contract hit, with prices low for that type of work. Some murders were also done as personal favors. With the exception of killings intended to send a message to any who would hinder their criminal activities,
or murders that presented no other alternative. A set method of execution was established by DeMeo and crew to ensure that victims would be dispatched quickly and then made to disappear. The style of execution was dubbed the Gemini Method, after the Gemini Lounge, the primary hangout of the DeMeo crew.
as well as the site where most of the crew's victims were killed. The process of the Gemini method took place in the following manner. The victim would be lured through the side door of the lounge and into the apartment in the back portion of the building.
At this point, a crew member would approach with a silenced pistol in one hand and a towel in the other, shooting the victim in the head, then quickly wrapping the towel around the victim's head wound like a turban to staunch the blood flow. Immediately after, another member of the crew would stab the victim in the heart to prevent more blood from pumping out of the gunshot wound.
By then, the victim would be dead, at which point the body would be stripped of clothing and dragged into the bathroom, where the remaining blood drained out or congealed within the body. This was to eliminate the messiness of the next step, when crew members would place the body onto plastic sheets, laid out in the main room, and proceed to dismember it, cutting off the arms, legs, and head. With this in mind.
we pivot back to Richard Kuklinski. By the early 1970s, he was in a tight spot for money. He owed quite a bit of money to two guys he worked in the pornography business with. These men, Paul Rothenberg and Anthony R. Grela, were connected to the mafia, but Richard didn't know that.
When Richard failed to pay up, the men were angry and contacted none other than the Gambino mobster Roy DeMeo. One August day in 1973, DeMeo found Richard and confronted him about the money he owed his two partners. Richard, unaware of who DeMeo was and his mafia connections,
gave him an attitude and told him to mind his own business. De Mayo left and returned minutes later with his killing team. Joe Guglielmo, Anthony Senter and Joey Testa. Richard was surrounded with guns pointing at his head. He was armed, of course, but knew these men were for real. If he killed them, the mafia would kill him and his family.
The four men knocked Richard down almost to a state of unconsciousness. Richard said later in interviews, "'They beat me good, but I knew if I fought back, they'd kill me in an instant. So I just took it.' De Mayo realized Richard had a gun and admired that he didn't use it. He took it as a sign of respect and courage."
DeMeo and Richard later talked over dinner at the Gemini Lounge in Brooklyn. Both apologized, and DeMeo said he would like to do business with Richard. In essence, this event was Richard's rebirth. He was able to quit his job in the porn business and survive on killing. He was making up to $40,000 for each mark he murdered.
He would also enjoy making them suffer before their death and being able to kill them up close so he could see the look in their eyes as they died. Roy DeMeo and Richard Kuklinski were a murder dream team and they made the leader of the Gambino family, Paul Castellano, very happy.
Paul also promoted DeMeo to a scarista and gave him more and more power in the family. As DeMeo's premier killer, this in turn gave Richard more power. His deaths were notorious in the mafia families and his methods of killing were brilliant and gruesome. He always knew where to hide the bodies and was never a suspect in any case.
By this time Richard had three children, Merrick, Christian and Dwayne. No one knew about his business, and he was well liked around the neighborhood. He seemed like an ordinary family man that would never hurt a fly. He did, however, hurt a lot of people, and I would now like to tell you of perhaps Richard Kuklinski's most deviant and terrifying murder.
I don't know.
Until your ultimate demise. What if we just say forever? Okay. $25 a month forever. Get unlimited talk, text, and data for just $25 a month with Boost Mobile forever. After 30 gigabytes, customers may experience slower speeds. Customers will pay $25 a month as long as they remain active on the Boost Unlimited plan. Ryan Reynolds here from Intmobile. With the price of just about everything going up during inflation, we thought we'd bring our prices down.
This episode is sponsored by BetterHelp.
as a family man with three kids i know first-hand how extremely difficult it is to make time for self-care but it's good to have some things that are non negotiable for some that could be a night out with the boys chugging beers and having a laugh for others it might be an eating night
For me, one non-negotiable activity is researching psychopathic serial killers and making this podcast. Even when we know what makes us happy, it's often near impossible to make time for it. But when you feel like you have no time for yourself, non-negotiables like therapy are more important than ever.
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Visit betterhelp.com slash serialkiller today to get 10% off your first month. That's betterhelp, H-E-L-P dot com slash serialkiller. As an adult, Richard was a very large man.
Six foot five in his stocking feet and two hundred and ninety pounds of solid muscle. In metric terms, that's one hundred and ninety-six centimeters and one hundred and thirty-one kilos. Despite his massive size, he had an uncanny ability to move silently and with great stealth, suddenly just being there.
And, like this, Richard managed to shoot unsuspecting squirrels, woodchucks, skunks, and deer, which was all practice for the thing that Richard excelled at, his one true passion in life, stalking, hunting, and killing human beings. Again, to document that Richard indeed found pleasure in the process of murder, I offer you this quote.
I don't particularly enjoy the killing, you know. I enjoy the stalk, the planning, and the hunt much more. End quote. On one of these so-called practice outings in Bucks County, Richard spotted it, a large rodent-like animal standing next to a thick oak tree. Thinking it was a woodchuck, he snuck up on the creature.
All was quiet and still, except for the rustling of leaves in a gentle breeze. Moving on just the balls of his size fourteen feet, using trees and shrubbery to get close enough for a clean shot, it was important to Richard that he kill with the first round. He managed to outflank the animal by staying upwind, when, in good position, he took aim and fired.
He hit the animal, but it was still alive, its rare legs futilely kicking the warm August air. As Richard drew closer, he realized it was actually a huge brown rat, Rattus norvegicus, and it was snarling at him, bearing its two large incisor teeth. Tough guy, Richard thought.
Richard did not particularly want to cause the creature to suffer, and, admiring its moxie, he quickly killed it. As Richard began to walk away, he noticed a cave behind a thick mulberry bush, at the foot of a steep granite slope dotted with green moss. Always curious, and never scared of anything, Richard made his way to the dark cave and went inside.
He immediately smelled them, and saw their droppings, but could see no rats. The cave went deep into the rise of granite, and became too dark to see. Richard had a small penlight, and used it. No rats anywhere. But he sensed them. He could smell them. Besides being endowed with nearly superhuman strength, Richard had amazingly strong senses of smell and hearing.
In many ways, his physical form matched his practice as a predator. He left the cave and slowly made his way back to his car, thinking about a huge brown rat, a sinister idea coming to him. He slid his shotgun into its fleece-lined leather case and put it into the trunk of his car.
He didn't want his wife or children to see it. Richard was always scrupulously careful about not letting his family know what he really did, seeing any of his extended collection of killing tools, which included razor-sharp knives, all sorts of pistols,
Some equipped with silencers, garrots, different poisons, especially cyanide, spiked clubs, hand grenades, a crossbow, ice picks, rope, wire, explosives, plastic bags and more.
He was particularly fond of .22 caliber pistols because, he knew, when the bullet entered the skull, it had a tendency to bounce about, causing massive damage to the brain. He also very much liked .38 caliber Derringers. They were small, could easily be hidden, and at close range, loaded with dum-dums, they were quite lethal. They could knock down a horse.
Richard usually carried two .38-caliber Derringers, a knife, and a large-caliber automatic when going to work for the Mafia. Several days later, Richard returned to the Bucks County cave. It was drizzling. The deep August greens of the woods were shiny and more pronounced. Richard again had his shotgun with him.
He also carried a brown paper bag containing two pounds of ground chalk. As he reached the darkened cave mouth, he saw hundreds of rat footprints in the wet soil. He took fifteen or so steps into the cave. The musky, fetid stink of the rats came to him. He put down the meat and left. When Richard returned the next day, all the meat was gone. He smiled.
Knowing rats were scavengers and would eat anything, Richard wondered if they would actually eat a human being. He wondered if he could make them unwitting accomplices in torture and murder. Curious, Richard got back into his Lincoln and returned to New Jersey. The contract came down in the first week of September. The mark had to suffer.
That was the order. If he did suffer, the price would be doubled, the client said, from ten thousand to twenty thousand dollars cash money. The Marquess lived in Nutley, New Jersey, in a fancy house with a curved driveway and elegant white pillars on either side of a large mahogany door with a big brass knocker in the shape of a ram's head.
Richard didn't know anything about the mark other than that he had to suffer before he died. Richard preferred it that way. The less he knew about the mark, the better. The camera, grey duct tape and handcuffs needed for what Richard had in mind were in his trunk. Richard knew that the mark left for work every day at 10 a.m.,
He had carefully plotted the mark's route to work, and planned to snatch him at a desolate corner where there was a stop sign, where he had to stop to make a turn. Richard preferred not to work in broad daylight, but he'd do whatever the job called for, and he knew people tended to be less defensive in the light of day, a natural element he repeatedly exploited.
When the mark came down the road toward the stop sign, Richard was there, innocently standing next to his car, its hood and trunk open, emergency lights blinking, a pleasant smile about his face. He had a .357 Magnum in his hand, which was hidden in his coat pocket. Richard flagged the man down.
As the mark reached the corner, Richard made sure to approach him on the driver's side. Somewhat annoyed, the mark rolled down the window. "'Yeah?' he demanded.
"'Thanks for stopping, pal,' Richard began. And in the next instant, really just the bat of an eye, Richard pressed the thick blue-black .357 to the man's head, while with his other hand he quickly snatched the car keys from the ignition. Done so quick, it was like a magic trick. "'What the fuck?' the man exclaimed.
He was a large, heavyset individual with a huge, round face, several double chins, a bald head. Richard opened the door, pulled him out, and keeping the gun to his side, quickly made him get in the open trunk of Richard's car. "'I'll pay you. I'll give you,' the man began. "'Shut up.' Richard stopped him, cuffed his hands behind his back, and taped his mouth shut."
"'Make any noise, and I'll kill you,' Richard said in a practiced modulation that was a chilling thing to hear, like the growl of a nearby hungry lion. Richard closed the trunk and hood of his car, got into it, and slowly pulled away. In a matter of seconds he had snatched the mark without anyone seeing him. The first aspect of the job was done.'
By now the leaves of the trees in Bucks County had taken on colors, bright reds, hot oranges, bold yellows. Slowly falling leaves seemed like multicolored butterflies on the first days of spring. Richard parked his car in a remote spot. He pulled the mark from the trunk and led him to the cave he'd found and located the spot where he had laid out the meat.
He made the mark lie down here, and carefully wrapped duct tape around his ankles and legs and arms, tightly bound him as a diligent spider wraps silk around its prey. He made sure to secure the man's body to the ground so he couldn't move away from the cave. The man's panic-stricken eyes bulged out of his large, round face.
He desperately tried to talk, to offer Richard all the money he had, anything he wanted, but the grey duct tape held tight, and only panicky, mumbled grunts came from him. What he wanted to say Richard had heard many times over. They were words he had become deaf to. Richard calmly went back to his car.
He retrieved the camera and tripod and a light and a motion detector that would trigger both the light and camera when the rats came out. Richard carefully set up the camera, the light and motion detector just so. Four days later, Richard returned to the cave. The rats had eaten the man alive. All his flesh was gone.
In the pale yellow glow of Richard's flashlight, the mark was now only disjointed haphazard bones, an unspeakable sight. He made sure the camera had captured what had happened. The huge rats first approached the hapless man with trepidation as he furiously squirmed to free himself.
Richard watched on the videotape how the rats, more and more of them, bolder and bolder still, began taking bites out of the man. First his ears, then his eyes. There were inhuman, muffled shrieks coming from the duct-tape-covered mouth,
And they grew in intensity when the rats gnawed through the tape and started to rip out the man's tongue. After watching the tape, Richard retrieved his equipment and left. A gentle snowfall had covered the forest with a pearly white blanket. Everything was white and clean and storybook lovely. A solemn white silence had descended upon the forest.
He knew the fresh snow would cover any tracks he left. Richard took the videotape of the mark being eaten alive to the man who had ordered the hit. The man asked if the victim had suffered, but instead of answering, Richard simply gave him the videotape and suggested they watch it. They both watched it. Overjoyed, yet slightly appalled that Richard would even think of, let alone do, such a thing,
The man gave him ten thousand dollars for the contract and a second ten thousand dollars for the incredible suffering the mark had experienced. "'You did a good job,' the man said. Richard liked to please his customers. That was how his business had grown over the years. Richard did not know what the mark had done to deserve such a fate. He didn't care.'
None of that was his business. The less he knew, the better. Richard made his way home, turned on the radio and tuned in to a country music station. Richard liked country music. The simple lyrics and meandering repetition suited him. When he arrived home to his loving children and wife, he was cheerful, and they all had a wonderful family evening together.
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Every frame's designed in-house, with a huge selection of styles for every face shape. And with Warby Parker's free home try-on program, you can order five pairs to try at home for free. Shipping is free both ways, too. Go to warbyparker.com slash covered to try five pairs of frames at home for free. warbyparker.com slash covered. And so ends episode 115 of The Serial Killer Podcast.
I hope you enjoyed listening to me telling it to you. The next episode, number 116 in number, will be another installment in the Iceman saga. Perhaps it will be the final one. So, as they say in the land of radio, stay tuned. This podcast would not be possible if it had not been for my dear patrons who pledge their hard-earned money every month.
There are especially a few of those patrons I would like to thank in person. These patrons are my 19 most loyal to the Serial Killer podcast. Many of them have contributed for at least the last 47 episodes, and their names are
You really helped produce this show and you have my deepest gratitude. Thank you.
If you wish to join this exclusive club of TSK producers, go to theserialkillerpodcast.com slash donate and pledge $15 or more to have your name read live on this show. Finally, I wish to thank you, dear listener, for listening.
If you like this podcast, you can support it by donating on patreon.com slash theserialkillerpodcast, by leaving a review on Apple Podcasts, facebook.com slash theskpodcast, or by posting on the subreddit theskpodcast. Thank you, good night, and good luck.