When it comes to the suffering and grieving my own family experienced because of me…
...no one has suffered more than my adoptive father, Nathan, and my birth mother, Betty. Their pain and sorrow were beyond description. They were devastated by my bizarre behavior and the "Son of Sam" crimes. They tried their best to make sense of it all. So did I.
Now, however, because of all the misinformation that continues to be fed to the public by a myriad of media outlets, and by a host of "talking-head" experts concerning the relationship I had with my birth mother, it is now time for me to try once more to set the record straight.
My birth mother Betty was a kind and loving woman. Meeting her and my sister for the first time was one of the highlights of my life. In fact, I always wanted a sister and never knew I had one until I was in my early twenties. I first met my mother and sister at my sister's house in Queens. I also met my brother-in-law, and learned I was also the uncle of two adorable nieces. For me, it was a dream time true.
My newly found birth family and I quickly developed a close relationship. I would travel from the Bronx into Queens on a regular basis to see them. I got to spend a lot of time with my birth mother as we got to know each other. Sometimes my mom would be at my sister's place. While at other times I would visit my mom at her apartment in Brooklyn.
There was never any animosity between my birth mother and me. I was even hoping for her to one day meet my adoptive father, who raised me. At the time, I was thinking on how to bring them together whenever my dad was in New York. He moved to Florida several years earlier. This was before I found my birth family.
As for my mother Betty, she was a good cook. She also had a unique accent. Being that she lived in Brooklyn for much of her life, my mom developed that famous "Brooklynese" accent. And because her parents and grandparents immigrated from Hungry and were Jewish, they all spoke Yiddish.
Yiddish is the language of European Jews. Almost every Jew who came to the United States at the turn of the century, and up to the early 1900s, spoke it. Therefore, when you would combine Yiddish with my mother's Brooklyn accent, it was both unique and delightful. Sometimes I used to tease her about it, and she would laugh.
However, shortly after I came to prison, I gave an interview with a journalist from western New York. I was confined to the notorious Attica prison at the time. What a terrible mistake I made speaking with him. The reporter took my words and twisted them.
In the article which followed, the journalist said that I hated my mother's accent, and would put my hands over my ears whenever I heard it. What a despicable thing for him to do. But this story of my hating the sound of my mother's voice, as absurd as it is, continues to be repeated over and over more than forty years later.
If her suffering at having to see her son come to prison wasn't bad enough, the hateful reporter hurt her even more. Why? The only explanation I could think of is that he wanted to sensationalize the story for shock value, and thereby get more of an emotional response from readers. Typical tabloid behavior. But this, unfortunately, would not be the last time for a media person to take advantage of me. I've had my share of them, along with dishonest and self-seeking psychologists and criminologists.
D.B.
Now, however, because of all the misinformation that continues to be fed to the public by a myriad of media outlets, and by a host of "talking-head" experts concerning the relationship I had with my birth mother, it is now time for me to try once more to set the record straight.
My birth mother Betty was a kind and loving woman. Meeting her and my sister for the first time was one of the highlights of my life. In fact, I always wanted a sister and never knew I had one until I was in my early twenties. I first met my mother and sister at my sister's house in Queens. I also met my brother-in-law, and learned I was also the uncle of two adorable nieces. For me, it was a dream time true.
My newly found birth family and I quickly developed a close relationship. I would travel from the Bronx into Queens on a regular basis to see them. I got to spend a lot of time with my birth mother as we got to know each other. Sometimes my mom would be at my sister's place. While at other times I would visit my mom at her apartment in Brooklyn.
There was never any animosity between my birth mother and me. I was even hoping for her to one day meet my adoptive father, who raised me. At the time, I was thinking on how to bring them together whenever my dad was in New York. He moved to Florida several years earlier. This was before I found my birth family.
As for my mother Betty, she was a good cook. She also had a unique accent. Being that she lived in Brooklyn for much of her life, my mom developed that famous "Brooklynese" accent. And because her parents and grandparents immigrated from Hungry and were Jewish, they all spoke Yiddish.
Yiddish is the language of European Jews. Almost every Jew who came to the United States at the turn of the century, and up to the early 1900s, spoke it. Therefore, when you would combine Yiddish with my mother's Brooklyn accent, it was both unique and delightful. Sometimes I used to tease her about it, and she would laugh.
However, shortly after I came to prison, I gave an interview with a journalist from western New York. I was confined to the notorious Attica prison at the time. What a terrible mistake I made speaking with him. The reporter took my words and twisted them.
In the article which followed, the journalist said that I hated my mother's accent, and would put my hands over my ears whenever I heard it. What a despicable thing for him to do. But this story of my hating the sound of my mother's voice, as absurd as it is, continues to be repeated over and over more than forty years later.
If her suffering at having to see her son come to prison wasn't bad enough, the hateful reporter hurt her even more. Why? The only explanation I could think of is that he wanted to sensationalize the story for shock value, and thereby get more of an emotional response from readers. Typical tabloid behavior. But this, unfortunately, would not be the last time for a media person to take advantage of me. I've had my share of them, along with dishonest and self-seeking psychologists and criminologists.
D.B.
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