I just watched 48 Hours about Rodney Alcala. I have no idea if this was him, but in 1977, when I was about 11 years old, there was a guy who lived on his own at the end of my street in a little town called Washington, New Jersey. It's only about 1 hour from New York City. He only lived there for a short time, maybe 1 or 2 months, but I remember him vividly. In looking at pictures of him, he looked like Rodney Alcala, but his hair was short. I'm trying to remember his name, but John Berger sounds familiar. Anyway, he used to take pictures of my friend and I on our way home from school (we had to walk past where he lived). He told us that he was a professional photographer and was working on his portfolio. He gave us one of the pictures and I may still have it. I remember that we had our ears pierced and he took pictures of our profiles so he could see our earrings. My friend and I went into his house once and then I remember my friend telling me that she went there alone once. I remember being so mad at her. She said that she felt like she was drugged and described it as a "dizzy spell" after leaving. All I know is that he wasn't there long and was suddenly gone. I didn't have a good gut feeling about this guy at the time and looking back, even it this man wasn't Rodney Alcala, I am thankful that we're still here, because many people weren't so lucky.
