The Memoirs of Dr. Michael Arthur Creed

By Malvin M. Pilato

BIB Theory
[From B(rilliance) I(n) B(lather).]
-noun
The concept of genius being derived from within the
context of nonsensical babble.
With the completion of this memoir comes confi rmation of
this theory; to which a lifes work has been devoted.
~ Dr. Michael Arthur Creed

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Aug 12, 2010
• ISBN: 9781453547571

Book preview

THE MEMOIRS OF

DR. MICHAEL

ARTHUR CREED

By Malvin M. Pilato

Edited by Jennifer Woltz

Cover Art by Anthony Riedy

Copyright © 2010 by Malvin M. Pilato.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This book was printed in the United States of America.

To order additional copies of this book, contact:

Xlibris Corporation

1-888-795-4274

www.Xlibris.com

[e-mail]

83676

CONTENTS

Introduction

Travis Mercer

Luther Stevens

Jonathan Carmichael

Carlee Bella

Alfred Christian Feldman

INTRODUCTION

In my youth the morbid and the macabre always fascinated me. While most children were off playing baseball and riding their bikes I was at home, studying. I researched them all: Charles Manson, Albert Fish, Ed Gein, John Wayne Gacy, and the list goes on. I was strangely captivated by them. Their actions, mentality and, most importantly, their motivation were fascinating to me; I had to develop a better understanding. The sociopathic mind was a riddle I was intent to solve.

I followed all of the proper steps to achieve this goal; I graduated High School and earned my Bachelors Degree in Forensic Psychology at Hilbert College in Hamburg, New York. From there I attended Argosy University of Psychology and Behavioral Sciences in Washington, DC where I earned my Masters and Doctorate.

When all was said and done I landed a job at the Dane County Asylum for the Criminally Insane in Verona, Wisconsin. There I spent 20 years examining, counseling and treating serial killers, lunatics, and sociopaths; each unique in their own right. Now, after over 160 years, the asylum has closed down; and with it, over a century of beautiful memories will be lost. The thought of such a thing simply fading away is too much for me to take. Therefore, I have done the only thing I can think to do in order to prevent such a travesty; I have written memoirs of the most intriguing cases I have had the pleasure of handling. With that said, I present to you the facts of my life’s work.

Sincerely,

Michael Arthur Creed, PhD.

TRAVIS MERCER

Whenever I am asked about the most memorable patient of my time in Dane County one name immediately comes to mind; that being, Travis Mercer. There was always that thought of what could have been if only more time was spent with him; an entire career could have been devoted to understanding him. Throughout most of his stay in Dane County he was completely docile; he barely spoke, and when he did it was difficult to derive any meaning because it only made sense to him. Probably, because he was the only one to see it; the world created within his mind was one where he ruled supreme, and there were none who could harm him. At least, this is what I was able to piece together; from what little was taken from him.

Travis arrived at Dane County in August of 1999; after having gone missing for nearly 3 years. According to the information I was given in his file, which was limited at best, he was suspected of committing 12 murders; although, nothing could ever really be proven. This was mainly due to the fact that it proved impossible to get any type of testimony from him; due to his complete loss of connection to reality.

It was believed that the first murder committed by Travis was that of his father, Otis Mercer. Otis Mercer’s body was discovered at 8:40 a.m. on July 25th, 1996, at his home in Jackson, Mississippi after police went there investigating a missing persons report filed by his co-workers; after he had not been seen, or heard from, in over two weeks.

Upon entering his home police were, immediately, greeted by an overwhelming stench; after searching the house they were able to locate the source of the smell. In the upstairs bathroom, sitting on the floor, was the badly decomposed body of Otis Mercer. He was found sitting upright on the floor with his pants around his ankles; his head had been impaled on the corner edge of the bathroom sink countertop. The coroner’s report stated that the edge of the countertop had penetrated his skull, roughly, 3½ inches; causing instant death by means of a compound skull fracture, resulting in his brain being punctured. The coroner’s report also stated that upon examining Otis’ body there were traces of fecal matter found on his penis. It was suspected that Travis had been sodomized by his father which caused a mental breakdown; resulting in a violent outburst, leading to the above mentioned situation. A warrant was issued for Mercer’s arrest; however, there were absolutely no leads in terms of his whereabouts. Police would continue their search efforts for months; but, to no avail. It would appear as if Travis Mercer had simply vanished.

As the years progressed the tale of Travis Mercer became something of a myth within his hometown of Jackson, Mississippi; also, as time moved on, 12 people would go missing. Some of the more superstitious people of Jackson claimed this to be the work of Travis Mercer; on May 3rd, 1999, their suspicions would prove correct. At approximately 2:13 p.m., a 911 operator received a phone call from a man who claimed to had seen Bigfoot in the Black Creek swamp near Jackson. The operator initially thought the phone call to be a prank; however, the man gave his name and present location. He claimed that, if police came at once, he could take them to Bigfoot’s house.

Upon meeting up with the man; police where lead through the Black Creek swamp to, what was described as, a hut in the middle of nowhere. The area was surrounded by skulls, some human and some animal, impaled on sticks; body parts, animal and human, littered the ground. As police searched the area they were alerted to the presence of something approaching; it looked human, from a distance. A member of the local department of animal control was quick to take the target down using a tranquilizer gun. Upon approaching the body police had found their Bigfoot in the form of 23 year old Travis Mercer. It took six police officers to get the 6'10'', 323 lb, Mercer off of the ground and onto a stretcher; which was taken, by helicopter, to a local hospital.

Upon arriving at the hospital Mercer was kept sedated; in order to ensure no violent behavior while he was examined. Upon physical examination doctors discovered a circle, with an upside down triangle in the center, and a star in the center of the triangle carved into Mercer’s right forearm; they also discovered a large scar in the shape of an X over his left pectoral muscle, right above his heart. All wounds were thought to be self inflicted.

Upon regaining consciousness, detectives attempted to speak with Travis. He was described as being totally unaware of his surroundings and completely unresponsive to questioning. Jackson police, in conjunction with the district attorney, deemed Travis insane and saw no need to even take him to trial; it was believed that he had lost all touch with reality and, more than likely, had no grasp of the severity of his actions, if he was even able to comprehend or recall them. On August 13th, 1999, Travis Mercer was transported to Dane County and dubbed a potential high risk patient.

I can still recall the day Travis arrived; quite clearly. I sat at my desk, drinking a cup of tea, eating an oat bran muffin, and looking over notes from a previous session with Carlee Bella while awaiting the arrival of Luther Stevens. It was a warm August day; there was not a cloud in the sky, but a gentle wind made the branches on the trees sway; it was almost hypnotic. Then, a white van pulled up in front of the building by the doors. This would be the orderlies arriving with Travis; although, they were not alone. Behind them came a police car; this was a very rare occurrence and one only seen when dealing with a patient considered a threat.

Two state troopers stepped out of the car; they pulled their guns and walked towards the van. As they approached the van the front doors of the institution opened and Ron, the head orderly, came out with five others. This was unusual; the common protocol for new patients arriving calls for two orderlies, in the van, who transport the new arrival to and into the asylum. The two orderlies inside of the van stepped out; the state troopers greeted them and they moved to the side door of the van. The officers stood, with guns drawn, and waited for the orderlies to open the van. Upon opening the side door one went in and slid out a ramp; which, was used for wheelchairs. Two orderlies stood, one on each side, by the ramp; the other two stood at the bottom. Ron stood a few feet away with a clipboard; he was taking notes on the procedure. This was part of the routine of new arrivals, called a report of transport that documents the patient’s trip to, and arrival at, Dane County. The two orderlies inside the van started to push Travis out in a wheelchair; his immense size looked to be, almost, keeping him from being able to fit in the wheelchair. There was, however, one small detail which stood out; the fact that he was in a wheelchair. Patients are, very rarely, brought in on wheelchairs; unless, they required sedation in order to be transported. This has been known to lead to issues when the drugs wear off; in that, the patient will regain awareness in an area they are unfamiliar with. This can, sometimes, result in anxiety and violent behavior. The orderlies wheeled Travis inside; the officers followed, with guns pointed at him. The Van pulled around into the back parking lot and, after a few minutes, the officers came out, got into their car and left.

Later that day, after my session with Luther, I walked outside my office to use the restroom; when I returned, Travis Mercer’s file and report of transport were waiting in my mailbox.

I anxiously grabbed them, went back into my office, shut the door behind me, and sat down at my desk. Upon opening his file I proved my suspicions; it was clear, by looking at his mug shot, he was sedated when he arrived. My beliefs were, once again, reinforced upon reading his report of transport. According to the report officers attempted to put Mercer in a restraint jacket. At which point he became violent and knocked a police officer unconscious. Two more officers attempted to restrain him and get the jacket on. At this point, Mercer broke free; he grabbed one officer, by the throat, and started choking him. Four more officers entered the room and were able to restrain him; it was determined that they would be unable to get Mercer into the straight jacket. A judgment call was made and Travis was sedated; he would remain that way until his arrival at Dane County."

Due to concern from the warden regarding Travis’ state of mind, he would be kept under surveillance for his first few days; if he handled the adjustment well, I would be given a session with him.

Three days passed and there was nothing said regarding Mercer’s behavior; this was good in the sense that if he had a violent outburst I would have, certainly, heard of it. That morning I was on my way to the break room; all the while thinking over, what was to be, my first session with Travis Mercer.

Doc. C., what’s happening buddy? A voice called out from behind me; it was Bob, one of the orderlies. He was carrying 3 boxes of donuts; on top of them balanced 8 coffees in cardboard coffee trays.

Well, Bob my friend, good morning; here, let me help you with those. I’ll grab the coffee. I replied while grabbing the trays.

Hey, thanks Doc.; you’re alright for a white boy. By the way, one of those coffees is yours; Ron mentioned he owed you one. Bob said as he opened the door to the break room. Inside, and around a table, sat three orderlies: an older, black man, named Ron; a younger, muscular, white kid, named Lyle; and a fat, black man, named Cornelius. Bob walked in and set the donuts in front of them.

Breakfast is served mother fuckers. Bob said as he opened the first box. Ok, these are the ones for me, Ron and Lyle.

Hey, thanks bro. Lyle said as Bob handed him the box; he and Ron started looking through. Ron grabbed a bear claw and crammed half of it in his mouth.

Hey, Doc. C., he said, while chewing his food, there’s a coffee for you over there and, you are more than welcome to some donuts. I still owe you one from the other day.

Oh, thank you Ron, that’s so kind of you; this coffee will be more than enough though.

Are you sure Doc.? Lyle interrupted, I don’t mean to alarm you, but there are honey crullers. Lyle said as he pulled one out of the box and started waving it around at me.

You boys certainly know how to tempt a man; I’ll give you that. Sure, I’ll have one; why not?

That’s the spirit. Lyle replied; he placed it on a napkin and slid it my way.

Thanks. I said while pulling up a chair, next to Ron.

Alright then, Bob said as he opened the next box, I think these ones are for the girls at the infirmary. He set them aside and picked up the last box, without opening it; he threw it down on the table in front of Cornelius. So, these must be the dozen that your fat ass ordered. Cornelius’ face lit up as the box landed near him; he grabbed it, opened it up, pulled out a donut, and took a huge bite. A giant squirt of red liquid shot out the back and into the box; he looked at it and sighed.

Oh boy, good thing that landed on an apple fritter; I’d hate to waste raspberry. He said, while shoveling the other half into his mouth.

Ya, that would be a fucking fate worse than death right? Lyle replied, sarcastically, after taking a bite of his chocolate glaze.

So Ron, I have to say; I have heard nothing about Travis Mercer since his arrival here. I said while Ron took a