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Back We Were Killers Once Save as PDF
Chapters (65)
  1. Title Page
  2. Copyright Notice
  3. Dedication
  4. One
  5. Two
  6. Three
  7. Four
  8. Five
  9. Six
  10. Seven
  11. Eight
  12. Nine
  13. Ten
  14. Eleven
  15. Twelve
  16. Thirteen
  17. Fourteen
  18. Fifteen
  19. Sixteen
  20. Seventeen
  21. Eighteen
  22. Nineteen
  23. Twenty
  24. Twenty–one
  25. Twenty–two
  26. Twenty–three
  27. Twenty–four
  28. Twenty–five
  29. Twenty–six
  30. Twenty–seven
  31. Twenty–eight
  32. Twenty–nine
  33. Thirty
  34. Thirty–one
  35. Thirty–two
  36. Thirty–three
  37. Thirty–four
  38. Thirty–five
  39. Thirty–six
  40. Thirty–seven
  41. Thirty–eight
  42. Thirty–nine
  43. Forty
  44. Forty–one
  45. Forty–two
  46. Forty–three
  47. Forty–four
  48. Forty–five
  49. Forty–six
  50. Forty–seven
  51. Forty–eight
  52. Forty–nine
  53. Fifty
  54. Fifty–one
  55. Fifty–two
  56. Fifty–three
  57. Fifty–four
  58. Fifty–five
  59. Fifty–six
  60. Fifty–seven
  61. Author’s Note
  62. Acknowledgments
  63. Also by Becky Masterman
  64. About the Author
  65. Newsletter Sign-up

Perry had blood on him from the blow-back of Clutter. The kid was bloody too because of the blow-back of Clutter’s son, and because of the blood spurting when he slit Mr. Clutter’s throat. I had just a little bit of blood on my clothes from the killing in the basement rather than from Nancy Clutter because I was away from her when I shot her, and the blood went on the wall next to her bed. No one had thought about this in advance and we had to find a creek and wash off.

I watched while they stripped off their clothes and washed them and themselves in the creek. We got back in the car, they were cold and put the heat on. It was November, mind you, and very cold. I was still driving. Perry was a little quiet like me, maybe thinking about what we had done, or the money that was not there, but the boy was talkative. It was as if the whole point of the break-in was the killing, not the money. He seemed very upbeat. No one mentioned how they made fun of me in the Clutter daughter’s bedroom. I think they did not want to rile me up again after so much emotion. Either that or it had been forgotten in all the excitement that followed.

We drove back the four hundred miles to Olathe and my parents’ farm, and arrived by noon the next day, November 15. I got out of the car myself to ask Mom to let at least Perry stay at our house. At the last second I remembered the splash of blood on the left sleeve of my shirt and covered it with my right hand, reminding myself to hide the shirt in my room. Mom looked at Perry looking out the car window at her and she said no. She probably could not see who sat in the back seat of the car on the driver’s side. She did not mention him and neither did I. It went without saying that it was definite that she would not have let the two of them stay at the house.

And that’s that part of the story. No matter what you read, the Capote account, or Perry’s and my confessions, or even something I wrote at another time, what I have just written is the absolute truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. It makes me feel better than I have felt in a long time. As a matter of fact, I think of a religion study class I took when I was in prison the first time, and a line comes to mind, maybe part of scripture, though I do not know if Jesus said it.

What I have written, I have written.