Danny Rolling has three
personalities. The first is Danny, quiet, shy, and humble, all in all a nice guy.
The second he calls Jesse James, a wild outlaw, a happy but adventurous type.
And the third he's named Ennad, a variation of "Danny" spelled backwards.
It was under the moon and stars, whipped by the winds, and stirred by the calls of
wild animals, that Danny would become Ennad, Master of the Night, Son of Satan, the Grim
Reaper, soul mate and blood brother to Ted Bundy. In the darkness he'd be like a
werewolf, stalking his victims. All the world was his to do with as he wanted.
Danny told me that I was one of the few people in the world to meet the dark side
of him and live.
As Danny would tell me of what he called his "adventures," the rapes, robberies,
murders, and scores of lesser crimes and of the demons and spirits that possessed him but
that he controlled, he would paint a picture in words so detailed and vivid I could
believe I was watching it all on television. His narratives made the tales of
Stephen King seem like children's stories. There were times he'd write it all out
and then hover over me in my cell as I copied it. He'd have me read and re-read it
to him. And then he'd add details. As we'd do this I would see the smiles, the
laughter, and the excitement it generated in him. I've never felt so sickened and
disgusted or wanted to hurt someone so badly as I did him. Many times I would be
brought to tears as I thought of the victims and their families or even of the life of
which Danny had told me, the path that lead to his becoming what he is today.
Sometimes these sessions would go on until 11PM or 12AM. Then he would say "go
tell them that." By that he meant he wanted me to inform the wing officer who
would inform the prison inspector who would inform the prison superintendent who would
inform the outside law departments and everyone would get out of their beds and come in to
see me and to be told these stories even later into night. This happened again and
again.
A few times he'd tell them he wanted to come with me. But it wasn't that he talked
to them. I told the story. They'd ask questions. I'd usually know the
answer, but when I did not, he'd whisper it in my ear and then I'd give it. A couple
of times he made small speeches, but usually he'd do no more than give a nervous,
mournful, whimpering "yes" or "no" answer when asked by one of the
detectives if my story was right.
When we'd get back from these trips, he'd be excited, laughing, and wanting to know how
he'd looked, how he'd done. He'd be critical if I made the slightest error.
He'd tell me "you are gonna be a great state witness against me and put me in the
electric chair." That, in his words, was the fate he was seeking.
All this went on for many weeks. I'd go to bed exhausted at night but could not
sleep or, when I did, I'd have a restless sleep and bad dreams. Usually the first
thing I'd know of the next day would be only hours later, before it even got light, when
Danny would come into my cell and, shaking my foot, say "wake up, buddy, let's go
eat." I can't even begin to describe what that did to my nerves.
After he had told me everything and I had relayed it to the investigators,a change came
over him. He began to laugh and joke about his crimes and victims. He would
see someone on TV and wish he'd gotten her or joke about how lucky she was that he'd never
seen her. He told me how he would take over W-wing because a lot of nurses worked
there. He described to me what he wanted to do with each one. His plans were
meticulously detailed. He also began to talk about how rich and famous he was going
to be and about his plans for pornography, books, records, T-shirts, posters, and even
autographs. At the same time, he was working out how he could effect an escape from
the Gainesville Jail and cause terror and confusion in the town to make it easy for him to
leave the area.
The more I was around this man the more his lies, con games, and ulterior motives began to
show, so much so that there came a point when I knew my own life would soon be in danger.
He scared the hell out of me one night when, as he told me about his past child
abuse and homosexuality, he put his hand on my knee and told me he loved me. I
believe this happened because we had started to disagree a lot and, as sex is a control
factor for him, power and domination were a real turn on for him, he tried to use it to
lure me back. In our past talks he'd explained to me how he used sex on people,
alive or dead, how much he had great sexual powers, and how all his victims loved him.
By this time I had been considering moving away from this man. Now I was sure
I had to.
So I asked to be moved. He had told me all there was to tell. I had grown
weary by the horrors of which I'd heard, the often sleepless nights, and the threat to my
life. I was told I would be transferred in a couple weeks to a safe place.