All right, Mr. DeMille. I'm ready for my close-up: John Mark Karr being taken into custody in Los Angeles.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Help! Police! Somebody Stole My Limelight!

Or, Damn That DNA! "Captain Highpants" sends an open letter to Nancy Grace.

By John Mark Karr

I received today the following unexpected email from none other than John Mark Karr.

Apparently Karr had been surfing the Web in search of autopsy sites when he happened upon SoMA. He was quite disappointed at first to find out that our publication has nothing to do with autopsies per se, but then he saw my recent piece, “A Fine Mess,” and, deciding that that’s exactly what he’s in, he sent me the following and begged me to run it in SoMA, along with a photo of him getting off the plane in L.A., which he feels shows his hair at its best.

I realize that this is explosive stuff, and that we could be letting ourselves in for a great deal of public scrutiny, but John Spalding and I felt it was our duty, as journalists and seekers of the truth, to publish Mr. Karr’s letter unedited.—Mary Beth Crain

AN OPEN LETTER TO NANCY GRACE

Dear Nancy:

I am writing to tell you how grateful I am to you and CNN for all you have done for me. If it weren’t for you, I might be nothing, my suffering forgotten, my great deeds erased from the collective consciousness.

But I know that as long as you live and breathe, Nancy, I will never be forgotten because you will continue to keep my memory alive. Even now, as the other news shows are cruelly turning their backs on me in favor of piddling issues like Iraq or Iran or some stupid hurricane, you are still focused on me and my wonderful crime of passion. Every night you play and replay the stirring footage of me taken into custody in Thailand; on the plane; in the L.A. airport; being driven off in the van; on the plane; being met by the authorities in Boulder; and then, on the plane and the whole thing all over again. But you don’t just give the world visuals. Thanks to you, everybody gets to hear my voice, in those conversations that that bitch Wendy Hutchinson taped behind my back. Imagine—me, whose only crime was honesty, betrayed by some fat witch who just wanted to profit from my stardom and grab her own little 15 minutes of fame!

Oh, Nancy, I feel I can tell you everything that’s in my heart. About what crap this DNA test is—I mean, I DID IT! I really DID! But because of this damn DNA, nobody believes me. You know what I call it, Nancy? DNF—Do Not Fall for It! DNA is like the Theory of Evolution—a big made-up story! Unintelligent design! A Darwinian plot! A way for Henry Lee to get HIS 15 minutes of fame! Well, screw DNA! Screw Henry Lee! Screw Mary Lacy and hail John Wayne Gacy! Now there was one lucky guy. Nobody didn’t believe HIM! Well, yeah, he did kill lots more people than I did but still…It’s not fair! He got to be a celebrity and sell his artwork for millions. And all I got was my freedom. Is this what they call American justice?

Now that Mahmoud Abinadinadude and that poseur Warren Jeffs—I mean just because he’s a pederast AND a polygamist he’s bigger news than ME?—and that SOB Ernesto, who’s going for the Katrina Award but at 75 mph winds, keep on dreaming, guy…All these assholes have pushed me off the front page! Except on your show. I truly thank God that I can still turn on Nancy Grace and see me looking so handsome in what you call my “outfit,” or standing there brave and noble in tres outré prison orange, or meeting the media with calm dignity. I can still hear my beautiful voice, so rich and full of emotion, proclaiming my eternal love for JonBenet. I look so good, sound so good…I know I said I wanted Johnny Depp to play me in the movie about my life, but to hell with him. I want to play me! And you, Nancy…perhaps you could play JonBenet? Because I think I am falling in love with you. My angel, my champion. Your shining blond hair. Your great big baby blue eyes. Your sweet doll face. What kind of panties are you wearing? Right now?

I guess that’s all for now, except that could you please also thank Glenn Beck for me? He really gave me great coverage too, and that nickname, “Captain Highpants”—wow! I LOVE it! Tell him that he can have my autograph anytime. You too, my darling. Our love is eternal, I know. You’re so incredible. So alive, so alive, so alive…

Together, Nancy, you and I SBTCs—Shall Be the Conquerors!

John Mark Karr

P.S. If you would be so kind as to send me a photo of yourself, I promise I will keep it close to my heart forever. Even your kindergarten class picture would work.

 

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John Mark Karr now sits in a Boulder jail awaiting extradition to California to face charges of child pornography, and dreaming about the movie of his life that will star Johnny Depp and make “a billion dollars.”

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