David Berkowitz
David Berkowitz
David Richard Berkowitz, also known as the Son of Sam and the .44 Caliber Killer, is an American serial killer convicted of a series of shooting attacks that began in New York City in the summer of 1976, perpetrated with a .44 caliber Bulldog revolver. He killed six victims and wounded seven others by July 1977. As the toll mounted, Berkowitz eluded a massive police manhunt while leaving brazen letters that mocked the police and promised further crimes, highly publicized...
ProfessionCriminal
Date of Birth1 June 1953
serial-killer
I wasn't going to rob her, or touch her. I was just going to kill her.
school culture transformation
Effective education is not adding a program or a set of programs to a school. Rather, it is a transformation of the culture and life of the school.
girl nice spices
The demons wanted girls. Sugar and Spice and everything nice.
police demon
The demons were protecting me. I had nothing to fear from the police.
girl ugly call-me
The girls call me ugly and they bother me the most.
carpe-diem choices proud
We must realize that we have a choice. We are responsible for our own good time... When you do something you are proud of, dwell on it a little, praise yourself for it, relish the experience, take it in.
dog wine blood
Hello from the gutters of NYC, which is filled with dog manure, vomit, stale wine, urine,and blood. Hello from the sewers of NYC which swallow up these delicacies when they are washed away by the sweeper trucks.
kings wicked serial-killer
In this hole lives the wicked king.
son serial-killer monsters
I am a monster. I am the Son of Sam. I love to hunt.
regret mistake gun
Society has to take the glory out of guns. Young people have no business carrying a gun. I would love to speak bluntly to those gangbanging teens and wanna-bes and tell them prison is nothing like what you think. If you’re packing a gun, you’re making a big mistake, and you’ll regret it.
son media names
The people and the news media used to call me 'The Son of Sam,' but God has given me a new name, 'The Son of Hope,' because now my life is about hope.
hurt serial-killer killers
I didn't want to hurt them, I only wanted to kill them.
dog new-york wine
Hello from the gutters of New York City, which are filled with dog manure, vomit, stale wine, urine, and blood.
home hatred singing
I was literally singing to myself on my way home, after the killing. The tension, the desire to kill a woman had built up in such explosive proportions that when I finally pulled the trigger, all the pressures, all the tensions, all the hatred, had just vanished, dissipated, but only for a short time.