Book Spotlight | Letters to the Purple Satin Killer by Joshua Chaplinsky

Today the spotlight is on Letters to the Purple Satin Killer by Joshua Chaplinsky!

Touted as “the freshest, most inventive, and easily the funniest serial-killer novel in years”, this book provides a unique take on the serial killer horror genre.

To give you a taste, I’m sharing the synopsis and excerpt from the book. Thank you to the author for this exclusive excerpt!

Pages: 340
Publication Date: 6 August 2024
Author: Joshua Chaplinsky
Publisher: Clash Books

Synopsis

Jonas Williker is considered one of the most sadistic serial murderers of the modern era. This epistolary novel explores the aftermath of his arrest and the psychological trauma of those who lived through it.

The Pennsylvania native brutalized his way into the zeitgeist during the early part of the new millennium, leaving a trail of corpses across five states before his eventual arrest. All told, Williker was responsible for the rape and murder of 23 women, and is suspected in the deaths of dozens more. His calling card—a torn piece of fabric found on or inside the bodies of his victims—helped popularize his now ubiquitous nickname.

The Purple Satin Killer.

In the years following his arrest, Jonas Williker received hundreds of letters in prison. Collected here, these letters offer a unique glimpse into a depraved mind through a human lens, including contributions from family, the bereaved, and self-professed “fans.” They represent a chilling portrait of the American psyche, skewering a media obsessed culture where murderers are celebrities to revere. What you learn about the man from these letters will shock you, but not as much as what you learn about yourself.

Excerpt

To: Jonas Williker, inmate #957464
From: Judith Williker
July 18, 2005

Dear Jonas,

It’s your mother. How are you holding up? Are they feeding you enough in there? I can only imagine what you’re going through. One state shouldn’t be allowed to just hand you over to another like that. It seems like some sort of civil rights violation if you ask me. Whatever happened to due process? Indiana should have to wait their turn while you serve your time in Nevada. Then they should have to track you down themselves after you’ve been released. Give you a proper bail hearing and whatnot. I don’t care how serious these new charges are, you still deserve to be treated like a human being. At least now you’re closer to home. I know you said not to worry about visiting while you were in Nevada, since you only expected to serve a few months, but this here is a whole new ball of wax.

Not much to report on our end. We’re in the middle of another heatwave, so your father and I spend most of our time in front of the television with the AC on. When we’re not watching the news, we’re watching that prison show, Oz? Are you familiar? It’s very realistic. I don’t like all the cussing and the violence, but I wanted to educate myself about your situation. I’ve already learned so much! I don’t know if you’re aware of this, but there are men that dress like ladies in there. Can you believe such a thing?

Oh. Your father just reminded me that one of your alleged victims was a heshe. I don’t know how anyone can tell the difference. Some of them are quite pretty! Anyway, that’s probably the least of your worries right now.

Speaking of Dad, he’s still pretty upset about the whole situation. He even had to take a leave of absence from work. It wasn’t exactly what you would call voluntary, but in the end, everyone agreed it was for the best. Factories are like prisons in a lot of ways. Lots of little cliques. !e other employees were constantly picking #ghts with your father, and distractions can be deadly on the assembly line. One court case at a time is plenty, thank you very much! There are only so many hours in a day.

I’ll try to get Dad on the phone next time you call, but no promises. You know how stubborn he can be. I’m sure he didn’t mean all those things he said, about you being the spawn of Satan. Not literally. In this house, we believe innocent until proven guilty. And no matter what you’ve done, you’re still our son. Dad’s just never been very good at handling his emotions. You know that.

Sometimes I wonder what young Judy Schoenecker saw in that stoic gas station attendant and his military haircut. I guess I was just happy to have someone show interest in me, even if they did use my father as a go-between. Looking back on it now, my father traded me off like a prize pig. You never knew your granddad. He was… let’s just say it was a different time. He passed a few days after the wedding, God rest his soul. I guess he felt he’d fulfilled his obligation by securing me a husband, so he decided to knock off early. Ma didn’t seem too upset, but I still miss him from time to time. I didn’t even have the chance to tell him he was going to be a grandfather.

The wedding itself wasn’t anything special. More of a family gathering, really. You’ve seen the pictures. A bunch of relatives we rarely saw. A handful of new relatives we’d never see again. And there was never any question of us going on a honeymoon. No, sir. Your father went right back to work the very
next day. Honestly, if I’d known he was gonna get laid off so soon after the wedding, I would have insisted on that trip to Niagara Falls. Do you know we’ve still never been? I’ve heard it’s gorgeous this time of year.

In other news, I won third place in the local rose competition. So life isn’t all bad. Mary Rogan said it was because the judges felt sorry for me, on account of recent events, but she’s just being a sourpuss because she didn’t place. She’s always been a sore loser, and it’s only gotten worse since her husband died. One time she stopped talking to me for a whole month because your father refused to mow her lawn. It wasn’t my fault he said no! Well, technically what he said was she should hire a Mexican like everyone else on the block, but still… She should have known better than to ask. It’s not like your father has a history of being neighborly.

Anyway, it’s Monday, which means I’ve got a roast to prepare. As your father likes to say, dinner ain’t gonna cook itself! I’ll write you again next week. Talk soon.

Love,
Mom

Cover photo by Anne Nygard