He asked me, “Maybe you might think, Why is this important to Gerald Foos? Since it is conceivable that some time or another the F.B.I. will show up and say, ‘Gerald Foos, we have prove that you’ve been watching individuals from your perception stage. What are you, some sort of sick person?’ And then Gerald Foos will react: ‘And shouldn’t something be said about you, Big Brother? For quite a long time you’ve been watching me wherever I go.’ ”
Amid the spring of 2013, thirty-three years after I had met him, Foos called me to state that he was prepared to open up to the world about his story voyeur sexe. Eighteen years had gone since he had sold his motels, and he trusted that the statute of confinements would now shield him from intrusion of-security claims that may be documented by any previous visitors. He was seventy-eight years of age, he reminded me, and he felt that in the event that he didn’t impart his discoveries to the general population now, he probably won’t be around sufficiently long to do as such. He said he was dissolving the privacy understanding that I’d marked in 1980 and gave me consent to expound on him and to utilize all the material he had demonstrated me throughout the decades. (Not long from now, I will distribute a book about Foos, a substantial piece of which comprises of passages from “The Voyeur’s Journal.” For the utilization of his original copy, he got a charge from the book distributer.)
I traveled to Denver and met Foos and Anita for breakfast at an airplane terminal inn. He conveyed a stick, and his diminishing silver hair was balanced by a dark mustache and goatee. Firmly secured over his huge chest was a tweed coat and, under it, an orange games shirt. Anita was as he had portrayed her in his letters: eighteen years more youthful than Gerald, she was a petite, calm lady with crimped red hair camera voyeur.
He needed to demonstrate to me his gathering of games memorabilia—a huge number of games cards that Anita had sorted out in sequential order arrange. He clarified that one reason he was currently ready to uncover himself as a voyeur was that he trusted the media reputation may attract consideration regarding his gathering, which he was anxious to offer. He trusted it was worth millions reallifecam.
I was more keen on talking about the murder that Foos professed to have seen in Room 10 of the Manor House Motel in 1977. I had told Foos that, without naming him as a witness, I expected to contact the Aurora Police Department to see whether it had revealed any new data about the rusian voyeur. Foos did not question, saying that he lamented his carelessness in the issue. In opening up to the world about his story and admitting his failings, he would have liked to accomplish a type of “reclamation.”
Amid our breakfast, I demonstrated Foos a letter from Paul O’Keefe, at that point a lieutenant, now a division boss, of the Aurora Police Department, who stated, “Sadly, we can discover no record of such an occasion.” He had checked a few chilly case databases and discovered nothing. Two coroner’s workplaces had no data, either. In resulting telephone calls, two previous officers said that it would not be outlandish for there to be no outstanding police records in a “Jane Doe” case, for example, the one I depicted: the personality of the casualty was obscure, all things considered, and the wrongdoing occurred before police divisions kept electronic records voyeur tube.
It is additionally conceivable that Foos made a mistake in his recordkeeping, or deciphered the date of the murder incorrectly, as he replicated the first diary section into an alternate organization. Throughout the years, as I tunneled further into Foos’ story, I discovered different irregularities—for the most part about dates—that raised doubt about his unwavering quality exhib.