It was 24 September 1974 and early morning in Minneapolis. The sun was up

and patrolmen Robert Nelson and Robert Thompson were cruising along 1841

E 38th Street when they spotted the 1968 black-over-pea-green Chevrolet

Caprice. It was parked across the road from a diner. Thompson made a slow

circuit of the block, while his partner checked the police bulletin details issued

the day before.

‘That’s it,’ said Nelson. ‘That looks like the car. All we gotta do is find the

driver. He’s a big guy and, according to this, he’s built like a gorilla.’

The two officers peered through the Caprice’s window and scrutinised the

interior. Sure enough, there was the red plaid car rug, pornographic magazines,

and a bible. By the gearshift, they noticed several packs of Marlborough

cigarettes; all items that had been detailed by a previous rape victim of the man

the police were searching for.

While Nelson telephoned his precinct, requesting assistance, Thompson wandered into the diner, asking the owner if he knew who had been driving the

car.

‘Yeah, sure,’ came the suspicious reply. ‘He just saw you guys and high-tailed

it out back.’

Minutes later, Harvey Louis Carignan was stopped, briefly questioned then

arrested. He was taken downtown, read his Miranda Rights, and booked on

charges of homicide and rape.

With up to 50 kills, one of America’s most vicious serial murderers would

never use his hammer again.

*

‘Even now, it sometimes seems my childhood was short, only a few days

long. There is nothing about it I cling to and nothing to look fondly

backwards toward. From where I sat then, and sit now, it was, and is,

truly a pit of despair.’

CARIGNAN, IN A LETTER TO THE AUTHOR, 14 APRIL 1993

Born on the wrong side of the tracks at Fargo, North Dakota, on 18 May 1927,

like so many serial killers, Harvey was an illegitimate child who never knew his

genetic father. His 20-year-old mother, Mary, was ill-equipped to care for her

sickly boy who failed to thrive and, in 1930, during the lowest point of the Great

Depression, she started farming him out to anyone who would look after him.

Thereafter, the youngster was moved from pillar to post, and school to school,

unable to form family roots or enjoy a solid education.

Very early in his formative years, Harvey developed a facial twitch and

suffered from bed-wetting until he was 13 years old. He also suffered Saint

Vitus’ Dance – or childhood chorea – a disease which manifests itself with

uncontrollable spasmodic jerking movements.

At the age of 12, he was sent to a reform school at Mandan, North Dakota,

where, according to his FBI ‘Rap Sheet’, he remained for seven years. During

this time, he alleges that he was constantly bullied and sexually abused by a

female teacher. In a letter dated 12 June 1993, he writes:

‘… I had a teacher who used to sit at my desk and we would write dirty

notes back and forth. I was either 13 or 14 at the time – and just show me

a 14-year-old boy anywhere who wouldn’t willingly and happily sit in a

schoolroom and exchange porno notes with his teacher. I never got to lay a hand on her without getting slapped, but she would keep me after school

and make me stand before her while she masturbated and called me names

and told me what she was going to make me do – none of her threats she

ever kept, damn it! The bitch wouldn’t even let me masturbate with her! I

took my penis out and she beat the living shit out of me! She had

enormously large breasts. She was truly a cruel woman …’

Harvey Carignan stayed at the Mandan reform school throughout his teenage

years, then in 1948, at the age of 21, he joined the US Army, who welcomed him

with open arms. Harvey was no longer the weedy little runt who, allegedly, had

suffered mental and sexual abuse since the age of four. The high-carbohydrate

and well-balanced diet at Mandan had helped him grow into a strapping, well-

nourished and immensely powerful young man.

Carignan began his murderous career in 1949 when, during the early evening

of Sunday 31 July, he killed 57-year-old Laura Showalter following an

attempted rape in a small park at Anchorage, Alaska. Death came swiftly after

he smashed her head, causing terrible brain injuries. The victim’s face had been

virtually destroyed from chin to forehead, bone and tissue crushed to a pulp

under a battering from his massive fists.

‘This killer was so strong,’ said a police officer, ‘with one punch he blasted a

hole through her skull like a rocket slamming into a tank.’

On Friday, 16 September 1949, Carignan attempted to rape a young woman

called Dorcas Callen who managed to escape his assault. The soldier, who was

clearly drunk, although it was only 11.00 am, had confronted her near a tavern in

Anchorage Street. When the man asked Dorcas to take a ride with him, she

refused and turned away.

‘Hey,’ he shouted, ‘I think I know you … maybe.’

‘Please go away,’ Dorcas pleaded. ‘You don’t know me.’

She was now very scared. She knew that a woman had been bludgeoned to

death in the neighbourhood only weeks before. But the big soldier confronting

her was angered by her refusal, and she could not get away from him. Before she

could move, the man grabbed her and began to drag her away from the street.

They fell into a ditch beside the road, and he was all over her, tearing at her

clothes, his hands touching her breasts, and between her legs. In moments he

could rape her.

Dorcas fought frantically to find a handhold in the soft dirt walls of the ditch.

He was very strong, almost inhumanly strong. Screaming, she managed to

a hand on her without getting slapped, but she would keep me after school

and make me stand before her while she masturbated and called me names

and told me what she was going to make me do – none of her threats she

ever kept, damn it! The bitch wouldn’t even let me masturbate with her! I

took my penis out and she beat the living shit out of me! She had

enormously large breasts. She was truly a cruel woman …’

Harvey Carignan stayed at the Mandan reform school throughout his teenage

years, then in 1948, at the age of 21, he joined the US Army, who welcomed him

with open arms. Harvey was no longer the weedy little runt who, allegedly, had

suffered mental and sexual abuse since the age of four. The high-carbohydrate

and well-balanced diet at Mandan had helped him grow into a strapping, well-

nourished and immensely powerful young man.

Carignan began his murderous career in 1949 when, during the early evening

of Sunday 31 July, he killed 57-year-old Laura Showalter following an

attempted rape in a small park at Anchorage, Alaska. Death came swiftly after

he smashed her head, causing terrible brain injuries. The victim’s face had been

virtually destroyed from chin to forehead, bone and tissue crushed to a pulp

under a battering from his massive fists.

‘This killer was so strong,’ said a police officer, ‘with one punch he blasted a

hole through her skull like a rocket slamming into a tank.’

On Friday, 16 September 1949, Carignan attempted to rape a young woman

called Dorcas Callen who managed to escape his assault. The soldier, who was

clearly drunk, although it was only 11.00 am, had confronted her near a tavern in

Anchorage Street. When the man asked Dorcas to take a ride with him, she

refused and turned away.

‘Hey,’ he shouted, ‘I think I know you … maybe.’

‘Please go away,’ Dorcas pleaded. ‘You don’t know me.’

She was now very scared. She knew that a woman had been bludgeoned to

death in the neighbourhood only weeks before. But the big soldier confronting

her was angered by her refusal, and she could not get away from him. Before she

could move, the man grabbed her and began to drag her away from the street.

They fell into a ditch beside the road, and he was all over her, tearing at her

clothes, his hands touching her breasts, and between her legs. In moments he

could rape her.

Dorcas fought frantically to find a handhold in the soft dirt walls of the ditch.