The Nation: Sam Told Me To Do It... Sam Is the Devil

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In South Korea for a year with the 2nd Infantry Division, he had only one minor disciplinary mark on his record, a temporary demotion for not joining a truck-convoy movement on time. At first nothing about him impressed his Army acquaintances, though one said Berkowitz consistently refused to join the barracks banter about sex. Recalls a fellow soldier: "Whenever the subject of women or sex came up, David would back off."

Two of his high school friends say Berkowitz, once a military hawk who turned pacifist while in Korea, may even have sought release as a conscientious objector (the Army does not publicly discuss such matters). More portentously, Berkowitz's letters began to ramble incoherently, use odd imagery—and he signed at least one letter "Master of Reality." He apparently abandoned some of his religious fervor at this time, began swearing, which was out of character for that period of his life, and became ever more withdrawn and disagreeable.

Authorities are checking reports that he plunged heavily into drugs, including LSD, while in Korea—which might have drastically altered his behavior. His few former friends found him changed and difficult when he returned from the Army in 1974. He picked up various jobs, including serving as a private security guard before taking a civil service exam and landing his $256-a-week position sorting mail by machine. He worked 4 p.m. to midnight, which gave him ample time after hours to search for young women whom he could gun down in the dark with minimal risk of being caught.

After his prowling, he would return to his $238.50-a-month studio apartment, which overlooked the Hudson River from the seventh floor of a trim building occupied mainly by Hispanics and blacks. But Berkowitz's apartment was a mess, furnished with little more than a low mattress. The windows were covered by sheets to keep neighbors from seeing in. Pornographic magazines were strewn near the bed. One large hole had been knocked in a wall, with an arrow pointing to it and a puzzling hand-printed message: "Hi. My name is Mr. Williams, and I live in this hole." Also on the wall was another irrational declaration: "I have several children who I'm turning into killers. Wait til they grow up."

More often, Berkowitz couched his strange ideas in vivid verbiage. Said part of a note found in his car: "And huge drops of lead/ Poured down upon her head/ Until she was dead. Yet the cats still come out at night to mate; and the sparrows still sing in the morning."

From a letter sent to Columnist Breslin: "I am a spirit roaming the night. Thirsty, hungry, seldom stopping to rest, anxious to please Sam. I love my work."