From Report of Captain James Kerrigan, 9th Precinct, Feb. 24, 2000:
We found the document below when we accessed the apartment of Charlene Winters at 2018 E. 9th Street, after the tragedy at the Hudson River piers on the night of 2/20/2000.
- - - - - - - -
I'm leaving this message to let friends and family know what happened, if I disappear from sight. I'm scared as hell about something that happened to me this past week.
It started when I saw some drawings of tattoo designs at the Village Tattoo Shop. I'd been thinking of getting a new tattoo on my right shoulder to match the butterfly on my left shoulder. Mitch said he could put the devil that I liked so much on the shoulder for me, three inches in height, as I'd requested. Mitch let me pick colors for the spear the devil carried. His expression was quite appropriate for a devil: nasty as could be - real nasty. I figured that would get many comments.
My life changed after I got that tattoo. I changed.
The devil made me do things. That's not an excuse, just a fact. He made me do terrible, hurtful things to old friends and complete strangers. And even things to hurt myself.
Some weeks after I got the tattoo I had an urge to send a package of letters to James, who'd married my old pal Doris. It wasn't my urge; I'm sure of that. The leering devil put me up to the terrible deed. I had letters Doris wrote to me, confiding that she'd been a call girl in Dallas before meeting James. She quit the business, married James, and was raising three great kids. At first I I resisted my evil tenant's commands to send the letters to James. Finally, I couldn't fight him and sent those letters. He made me do it.
"Nice Job," I told the laughing devil, meaning to be sarcastic. He chose to take it as a compliment, bowing to me and smirking. I hated him and wished to be rid of the evil one but couldn't figure out how to escape.
It got real bad; the final straw was when he whispered in my head to make pretty with a sad looking woman at a neighborhood bar. Roberta, that was her name, was obviously needy and lonely as could be. He directed me to approach her with an inviting smile. I didn't like her, but he made me do it. We had a brief affair, not one to my liking - but he made me do that. Finally, I was told by my unwelcome tenant to break her heart. At his command, I was brutal: telling her that she was ugly and hateful, and saying that it was all over between us. I'd never behaved in such a way before, not with anyone. But he made me do that to her. She disappeared from the neighborhood. Sometimes I think about her and cry for that wounded woman who was so sweet on the inside and so vulnerable.
I had to reclaim my life or go mad. I visited Mitch at Village Tattoo and asked him to remove the devil.
"Are you sure," he asked. "That's messy and expensive."
"Yes, just get him off me."
