The Mammoth Book of Celebrity Murders (42 page)

It was around this time that Chapman’s friend Michael McFarland gave him the book
The Catcher in the Rye
, the story of a mixed-up teenager who comes to the conclusion that everyone
is a phoney and runs away to New York. The book became a massive hit with Chapman, who found a new soul-mate in the book’s main character, Holden Caulfield, and dreamed of a new world in
which he would fit in.

After graduating from Columbia High, Chapman and McFarland spent a brief period in Chicago where they entertained the congregations in churches and Christian meetings with their new comedy act.
Chapman played the guitar and McFarland did impersonations, much to the joy of their audience, but the act was not to be, they couldn’t earn enough money and the two soon abandoned their show
business careers.

The two returned to Atlanta, Chapman initially doing odd jobs down at the YMCA before deciding to return to college, enrolling at South De Kalb Community College, hoping to get a degree that
would qualify him for a career with the YMCA full time. Life really began to look up again for him when he was selected for a place on the YMCA’s international programme, working in the
Lebanon. Unfortunately the disruption caused by the war there soon had the disgruntled Chapman shipped back to the US along with all of the other YMCA staff. On return he managed to get a placement
looking after Vietnamese refugees at a resettlement camp at Fort Chafee, Arkansas. Again Chapman excelled at his work, becoming another big hit with the Vietnamese children and winning further
acclaim by becoming an area co-ordinator and key helper to David Moore, the programme director.

The resettlement programme was short lived but before Chapman departed he left an indelible message on the minds of those who were there: “We’re all going to get together again one
day and one of us is going to be somebody. About five years from now, one of us will do something famous and it will bring us all together.” That was December 1975, exactly five years prior
to Chapman’s murder of Lennon, just one of a number of strange coincidences which the media have used to create further mystery and intrigue.

For now though Chapman was on the top of his game, he enjoyed being with the kids and was generally getting along fine. His girlfriend, Jessica Blankenship, had been out to see him at Fort
Chafee and the two were sufficiently positive to discuss the possibility of marriage. He rejoined her in the spring to study religion, at a strict Presbyterian college in Lookout Mountain. Although
they both studied together most nights, Chapman found that he was unable to keep up with the demanding workload and was slipping behind in his studies. He had also become depressed over a liaison
he had allowed himself to indulge in while he was stationed at Fort Chafee, although he was not about to admit his guilt to Jessica. The guilt did however hang over him like an axe, causing him to
slip further into black moods, a state of mind that would ultimately have him teetering on the brink of suicide.

Life was once again changing for Chapman – after his success at the YMCA summer camps, he was now failing at his religious studies, causing him to drop out of college at the end of the
first semester; Jessica decided to break off their engagement. In a bid to regain some of the life he had once enjoyed he rejoined the YMCA as assistant director of the summer camp but quit after
an argument with one of the swimming instructors. With his life spiralling down once more he managed, with the help of a friend, to find a job as a security guard; he was even offered promotion but
turned it down, afraid of the responsibility. He now had the chance to pick up a firearm for the first time. Initially he had joined as an unarmed security guard, but now enrolled on a week-long
course that would qualify him as an armed guard, scoring 80 points on the pistol range, well above the 60 required for a pass.

Yet Chapman was now floundering in black despair, unable to shake the thoughts of suicide that plagued him. He dreamed of another life, one in which he would be “a man to be reckoned
with”, somebody who others would admire. It was while sat in his local library that he came across a map of Hawaii, which he pored over until he could almost see each street in his mind,
conjuring up a new life for himself.

And so Chapman finally concluded what he must do. He bought a one-way ticket to Honolulu with what was left of his savings, some $1,200, and booked himself into the Moana Hotel, planning to have
one last bash at the high life before killing himself. On arrival he spent the next five days enjoying himself, drinking and eating the best foods, cruising the islands and lying around on the
sandy beaches. Life was so good in fact that he thought it a shame to end it prematurely; instead, he checked out of the hotel and booked into a YMCA room to make the most of his money. With life
now providing some enjoyment he decided to phone Jessica and tell her of his intentions to kill himself, suggesting that if she would say she still loved him and that she wanted him home, he would
call off the suicide and return forthwith. Fearful that she would have his death on her hands if she didn’t, she asked him to return. Now reprieved, he bought another one-way ticket back to
Atlanta, looking forward to a tender reunion.

Sadly, on his return he quickly established that Jessica had acted solely out of pity for him, she did not want him back and there was to be no romantic reunion. Annoyed and depressed he once
again found himself headed back to Hawaii, on yet another one-way ticket. It was May 1977 and with little money, he checked himself back into a room at the YMCA; he felt nothing but empty despair
and once again his thoughts turned to suicide. Over the days that followed he spent hour after hour on the phone to suicide help lines, before he could not stand the thought of life any more. He
bought a vacuum cleaner hose and drove a rental car out to one of the secluded beaches. Pushing the hose into the car’s exhaust pipe, he climbed into the driver’s seat and promptly fell
asleep. His life was once again spared, this time due to poor planning on his part – the plastic vacuum cleaner pipe had melted in the exhaust and had all but closed up, so that the noxious
fumes did not get into the car. When he awoke to a man tapping on his window, he was amazed to be still alive and took this as a sign from God that it was not his time to go yet. He therefore
pledged to God that he would try and make better use of the chance that he had been given, checking himself into a mental health clinic the very next day, where the resident psychiatrist put him on
an immediate suicide watch.

After only a week Chapman was feeling much better again, his depression had lifted and he was soon discharged from the hospital. Taking a job at a nearby petrol station, Chapman filled his spare
time by visiting the staff and patients at the hospital where he impressed the staff so much that they offered him a maintenance job. He fitted in well, delighted his bosses and was a hit with the
patients, some of whom hadn’t had a conversation in years. He took time to sit and indulge the older ones in lengthy chats, listening to their stories and never once looking disinterested.
The doctors and nurses who he worked with looked upon him as a colleague, and were pleased to socialize with him. He had now found a new place to live and was once again looking at himself as a
success; with this his mind he dreamed up new and more exciting things to do.

Just as he had once dreamed of coming to Hawaii, he now dreamed of travelling to the Far East and thought he might be able to arrange this through his job. The hospital ran a credit union for
staff and he would be able to take up to six weeks extended leave with the approval of his manager, which he was sure to get. With the plan firmly fixed in his mind he began checking out the travel
arrangements with a young Japanese-American woman named Gloria Abe, who worked for one of the local travel agents. With his renewed vigour for life, Chapman showed an interest in Gloria, who was
keen to reciprocate his affection. But for now Chapman would see some of the world, visiting Japan, Korea, China, Thailand, India, Iran, Israel and then through Europe to Geneva, his final
destination Atlanta, where he called in to see his family and friends before heading once more back to Hawaii to meet up with Gloria.

Gloria, who was a practising Buddhist when they met, now ditched her own religion in favour of Christianity, they spent all of their free time together and for a long while the black thoughts
that had plagued Chapman faded as he enjoyed his new-found relationship. In January 1979, in a rare romantic gesture, Chapman wrote the words “Will you marry me?” in the sand, to which
Gloria wrote “Yes”. They were both deliriously happy and planned the wedding for June of the same year, Chapman changing jobs at the hospital to the printing department in order to set
aside more money. But again the change proved hurtful to his tender mind. Now working alone and without the happy chatter of the patients to keep him company, his mind soon drifted back to the dark
days and his temper re-emerged. Over a brief period he was fired from his hospital job, then got rehired, but walked out after an argument with one of the nurses. He managed to get himself in yet
another shouting match, this time with Gloria’s boss at the travel agents, and insisted that she quit the company.

With life once more changing for Chapman he took a low-paid job as a security guard at a luxury apartment block, but began secretly drinking. Always one to jump on a bandwagon, he could develop
a full-blown obsession in a short space of time, and indeed did do during this short period. His first obsession was for works of art, buying a Salvador Dali for $2,500 and then changing it for a
Norman Rockwell painting which cost him $7,500, money he borrowed from his mother. As this phase concluded Chapman marked the date, 13 March 1980; in his diary, as the day he decided that he must
completely clear all of his debts – his next compulsion – making sure that every penny he and Gloria earned were saved. He spent hours and hours going over the plans with his advisors
and by August 1980 they had reached his goal. Now free of debt, Mark was still unable to relax and felt under constant pressure; and there was now another development – the little people were
back, and he was talking to them again.

Life became unbearable for Gloria; her only escape was to lock herself in the bathroom, where she would cry uncontrollably. Chapman’s behaviour was more erratic than ever – he would
have a sudden compulsion to sell all of his records, and then would go out and buy them all over again. After watching the movie
Network
, he sold his TV, like the character in the film. He
then bought new speakers for his stereo but smashed up the turntable in a fit of anger, watched by a terrified Gloria, who now believed Chapman was off the rails.

His interest in Holden Caulfield soon resurfaced when he bought two more copies of
The Catcher in the Rye
, one for himself and one for Gloria, which he insisted she read. He even talked
of changing his name to Holden Caulfield, at one point writing to the Attorney General to ask about the procedure. During this period he wrote to a friend proclaiming, “I’m going
nuts”, and signed the letter “The Catcher In The Rye”.

Chapman was sinking faster than ever into a deep depression, his mind was certainly stressed, his grip on reality was lost and he had withdrawn further into the world of the “little
people”, venting his anger on them and sparing them when he felt happier, a state of mind he was achieving less frequently than ever. He was also visiting the library where, scouring the book
shelves for meaningful books, he found Anthony Fawcett’s
John Lennon: One Day at a Time
, an account of Lennon’s life. Chapman read the book from cover to cover and developed a
loathing of what he saw as Lennon’s double standards, preaching love and peace yet rich beyond comprehension. As negative thoughts became set in Chapman’s mind he spiralled further
still. Now praying to Satan, he would sit rocking back and forth, naked, in the dark, just him and his tape recorder, putting the logic of his need to kill Lennon on tape, with a jumble of Beatles
lyrics and words from
The Wizard of Oz
and quotations from
The Catcher in the Rye
. When Chapman announced to the “little people” his plan to visit New York, to kill
Lennon, they apparently remonstrated with him, begging him not to go through with it, but he, the President, had made an executive decision.

In October 1980 Chapman read an article about the release of Lennon’s album called
Double Fantasy
, on which he and Yoko Ono shared vocals. It was yet another sign of what he must
do, so, quitting his job, he signed out for the last time under the name John Lennon, which he then crossed out. On 27 October Chapman entered a Honolulu gun store and bought a .38 Charter Arms
Special, five-shot, short-barrel gun, for $169; ironically the salesman was named Ono.

A day later he boarded a plane for New York with the gun wrapped in clothing safely inside his suitcase. He had bought a new suit and overcoat for the trip and looked every inch a travelling
businessman. He had on him the balance of a $5,000 loan from his father-in-law, having decided once more that he would live the high life before concluding his own life and that of John Lennon.
With the end in sight, he booked a room at the Waldorf and enjoyed a meal in their restaurant.

In the days that followed Chapman spent much of his time walking around the perimeter of the Dakota Building, trying to locate the sixth-floor window where he hoped to see Lennon. He masqueraded
as a fan, chatting to the Dakota’s security staff and trying to get some information on Lennon’s movements, information they knew better than to give out, the standard response being,
“I’m not sure if Mr Lennon is in town at the moment.” His plans hit a snag when, having forgotten to buy the bullets for his gun in Honolulu, he now discovered that New
York’s Sullivan Laws prevented him from acquiring them at all in that state. His plans now on hold, he called his friend Dana Reeves, a deputy sheriff in Georgia, saying he would be passing
through and that he was hoping to have a get-together with his old friends. Reeves invited him to stop at her apartment in Atlanta and he promptly arrived a day later. During one of their
conversations Chapman explained he had bought a gun for his own personal protection while he was in New York, but that he couldn’t get the bullets for it. Reeves accepted the story and
delivered to him five hollow-point cartridges, the type which expand as they pass through their target, delivering maximum damage and stopping power.