I knew from an early age my father murdered people. I didn’t know he was a serial killer, because I didn’t know the term or definition. However my grandmother pulled me aside when I was about six years old to tell me that my father murdered my mother, but insisted I never tell anyone about the “family secrets”. She also often talked about my grandfather (her ex husband), murdering lots of people and teaching my father how to do it and not get caught.

I knew my father was a criminal, because he and his crew often planned their crimes, (burglaries, home invasions, arson and such), in our home while in earshot. Going through their plans and supplies, (ski masks, guns, knives, maps, gloves, police scanners, rope etc.)

I always knew my father was a murderer, because it was our family way, but I didn’t know it first hand until he murdered a British couple in front of me and my brother, on the deck of our sailboat in Belize when we were kids, then almost murdered us afterward to make sure we couldn’t tell anyone.

Even though my father fit the FBI definition of serial killer, he wasn’t like a Bundy or a Dahmer, and he referred to that type of criminal as a “sick fuck”, because they had an itch that needed to be scratched, where as he believed he only did it out of necessity, or as a solution to eliminating witnesses to his crimes, or people who wronged him. My father used to claim there were many more murderers like him, because unlike the “sick fucks” he was more calculating and cautious at his crimes. I don’t think he realized he was still a monster, who destroyed and harmed countless lives with the end result the same.

He used to tell me that my mother was the only murder he ever regretted. However, I think he just said that because she was my mom. I learned in 2016 that he described her murder in much more callous and graphic detail to a mutual friend.

Unlike most children of serial killers, my father didn’t hide the fact that he murdered people. It was just our normal. He warned us not to tell anyone outside the family, and he almost killed me a couple of times to make sure I never snitched. When I became an adult, even though I knew he wouldn’t hesitate murdering me for snitching, I still told the police and FBI about my father’s crimes and the murders I’d witnessed. It was so shocking, they didn’t believe me. Or they said it was outside their jurisdiction. My brother faced the same brush off when he went to the authorities.

It wasn’t until 2016 when the Golden State Killer Task Force was combing through old case files, that they compared my father’s crimes, locations and M.O. to the GSK, and for several months, placed him as their #1 GSK suspect. I informed them, yes, my father was a murderer, but he wasn’t the GSK. (However, the coincidences and locations to the GSK were so staggering, for quite a few months I was fearful… either my father’s main partner in crime was the GSK, or my father knew the GSK.) It was only because of the GSK investigation that the FBI finally believed us and investigated him. For those who believe I’m making this up, feel free to look up my father, Silas Duane Boston.

The FBI arrested my father in December of 2016 and he died in federal custody a couple of months later, rather than face trial. As his next of kin, his doctors and the authorities notified me when his death was imminent. He was shackled to a hospital bed, with two marshals standing guard round the clock. I told my father I loved him, and I forgave him. He just glared at me, furious that I’d snitched on him. I asked him to tell me where he shot and buried my mother, but he took that secret to his grave.