I want all of you to know that I totally empathize with everything you'll soon be going through. Nobody likes to learn that their lives are about to be snuffed out for no reason save that of random, irrational violence. It's a terrifying proposition, I know. But everyone's going to have to sacrifice a little here, and, for what it's worth, I'm not going to survive this upcoming murder spree any more than you are. So take solace in the fact that, right after I gun you all down next week without warning, I will immediately be shooting myself in the head, as well.
Remember: We're all in this crazy mess together.
I know what you must be thinking, but before we get into the whole question of "Why, why, for the love of God in heaven, why?" let me just say there's no use looking for answers at a time like this. An event as tragic as what I will be carrying out next Wednesday around 3 p.m. never has any easy explanation.
All I can say is that a number of factors—most of them insane—have resulted in a situation we're just all going to have to accept. Who can really say why some random people, guilty of nothing other than happening to visit their local bank at the wrong time, will be tragically gunned down in a scene of horror and gore? Believe me, if I could do anything about it, I would. It's just not in my control.
This is definitely going to be hard for some of you to take, especially the ones whose precious lives I will soon be snatching before their time, one by one, with cold and murderous detachment. Still, you have to believe me when I tell you that I'll be living through the same vision of hell as all of you. Just because I won't be wearing a blindfold and stuffed in a corner while my daughter whimpers quietly on the other side of the room doesn't mean I won't eventually take the same gun I used to murder you and shoot myself right before the police arrive. In a way, won't that be the hardest job of all?
See, I'm not in this for the notoriety.
In case any of you were wondering, I have absolutely no intention of backing down or running away or anything like that. I would never do that. I may be a homicidal maniac, but I'm not a monster! No, I fully intend to put a specially designed bullet bearing the mark of the beast through my frontal lobe as soon as I'm done making sure none of you sprawled out on the floor are playing dead. In fact, I'll only outlive you by two, maybe three minutes, tops. What's two minutes when compared to eternity? Trust me, they'll be dragging my lifeless corpse away from the blood- and urine-stained crime scene right along with yours.
That's my promise to each and every one of you, my future victims.
If I could kill myself first, to prove to you my good intentions, I would. Then I could go on this murder spree, just like I've been planning to for six and a half months, knowing full well that all your doubts and concerns were adequately answered. Unfortunately, that's not the way these things work. But I swear on the lives of the children I killed earlier this week that I will follow through on this promise. It may not sound like much, but given the situation, it's the least I can do.
Think about how much better my death will make all of your family members feel—that is, presuming those family members are not there at the time, in which case I will of course have to kill them, too. At least they'll have the knowledge that some emotionless killer isn't still out there on the loose, waiting in the darkness to strike again. It may not be the closure that someone who just went through an unthinkable tragedy would want, but it should be comforting nonetheless.
I sincerely hope it gives you some kind of reassurance to know you'll have died in a mass murder/suicide, and not just a mass murder. Even if it helps only a little, I'll have done my job.