The Green River Killer

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Memoir  |  House: Booksie Classic
a 26 year old mother named Marcy Kay Baisden tells us her side of how Gerry (the green river killer) killed her, and her unborn child

Submitted: September 26, 2012

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Submitted: September 26, 2012



My name was Marcy Kay Baisden I had just turned 26 in October, it was a happy time for me, and my husband John had just came back from the war over seas to spend time with Bryson and our unborn child Violet. I was only 9 months and was due 2 weeks before the miserable day.

It was raining all day but I had to go to work. I was a high school English teacher and the kids were counting on me to be there for book club. I stayed later then I should have. It was 11:00p.m and I just wanted to see my loving husband and playful baby boy.

The car broke down in the middle of town and the high school was long gone from my view.

I got out of the car to look for help but the rain was too thick and made every thing a blur, just then it hit me, I had brought an umbrella with me this morning. I checked the glove box to see that I was right and then headed out for help.

I turned a few corners, walked a few blocks, and then I saw a man checking his motor. I approached him just before he closed the hood of his truck.

“Hay can I getta lift, I just live about 5 blocks down the road?” I asked hopin he’d give me one.

“Sure. Do ya work around here often?” The tall man wearing a trucker’s hat asked me.

“Um… Yes I work at the high school.” I replied, startled by his odd question.

“Hum…well hop in before ya getta cold ma’am.” the man said after he had all ready opened the door for me. I slid in just before he shut the door; he then got into the driver’s seat and started the truck.

“I live at 224 dark avenue.” I spoke a little hesitantly to the man.

“I know just where to go miss if you don’t mind me making a short cut or two.” he said.

“Um no not at all. Oh I’m so rude my name is

Marcy Baisden and yours may I ask?”

“Well Ms. Baisden my name is Garry.”

As the words escaped from Garry’s lips, Violet started to kick, as if she didn’t wont to be near Garry.

After 10 to 15 minutes I started to doze off to sleep in the silence between me and Garry that we shared, so I laid my head on the side of the bright ruby red truck and trusted this man I only met just a few minutes ago…

The truck door being slammed shut awaked me.

“Am I home now?” I asked with a dozy voice,

“If ya don’t mind it any I thought we’d stop here for a while Ms. Baisden.”

I nodded yes as he walked to my side door and opened it for me. I thought at this time nothing about this old man could be dangerous but sadly I was wrong. This so called harmless old man named Garry was indeed The Green River Killer.

After I got out of the car and I entered his house he asked me if I had to use the bathroom or freshen up. I declined his offers, he slowly lead me to his basement.

Once I had entered the basement blindly I started to get a little nervous and I just wanted to go home and watch some good old fashion T.V with John, Bryson, and Violet.

He started to push me on the bed but I struggle and told him I demanded he take me home, but he had other things in mind and one of which was not taking me home.

After I told him to back off he started to choke me and my world faded to darkness and my soul left my empty shell of a body…

After he violated my cold body he grabbed a box of rocks and shoved them in a place I don’t want to even start to think about for it’s just to painful to tolerate in my tainted memory. He then wrapped my body in plastic and droved me to the dark green river to dispose of my lifeless corps. He striped me of what was left of my dignity.

Seven years after my murder the Police finely captured Garry; but sadly he refused to give up the location of my remains and I am only one out of the twenty- three other missing girls he killed in cold blood. My name was Marcy Kay Baisden and I was forgotten by society like many others were. We are the silent, lost, victims of his rape and murder but our blood cries out from the grave forever seeking justice.

© Copyright 2020 K Cub. All rights reserved.

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