Francois Monsiuer was starting to get frustrated. Then a senior prosecutor in Brussels Judicial Police criminal unit, Monsiuer had been listening almost sympathetically to Agnes Pandy's rambling statements for hours but it seemed to the veteran prosecutor that something was missing. The newspapers were already reporting her bizarre allegations against her father. "I am ashamed that my father might turn out to be one of the worst serial killers in history," she told a Belgian newspaper. But there were great gaps in her halting tale.

Monsiuer gently suggested to her that, perhaps, a walk through the courtyard of the Brussels Judicial Police building might clear her head.

House owned by Pandy (Reuters/Landrov)

And so she strolled, her heels clicking on the blocks in the courtyard, while a few paces behind her, police kept close watch on her. The ornate and terribly civilized facades, the carefully tended plantings, the sculptures that adorned this corner of Brussels all seemed so calming and orderly, a far cry from the squalid industrial neighborhood where Pandy had lived with her father, a place that reeked of sewage and slaughterhouses. If she had to summon the ghosts of slaughtered family members, though, perhaps this was a good place to rally them.

A half an hour later, she returned, leaned forward and softly said to Monsiuer, "I am going to tell you how we killed five people."

Her tale was one of imaginable horror, a grand guignol of murder and rape and depravity at the house on Quai de l'Industrie in the rundown quarter of Brussels known as Molenbeek. She talked of how her father, a bookish churchman, had seduced her when she was just 13, raped her is perhaps a more accurate phrase, and how she felt she had no way of escaping him. "I had no way out," she would later tell authorities. Her will had been totally subjected to his. As her defense attorney would later tell a jury, "she had been under the overwhelming irresistible spell" of her father.

By the time she was finished talking, Agnes Pandy had implicated her father and herself in five homicides, all members of their family.

The body parts that would later be pulled from the mud in Pandy's murky basement, the slabs of unidentified "meat" pulled from his freezer, would offer an even more chilling glimpse into the horror.

DNA tests conducted on them would reveal that the bones and teeth and fragments of flesh were indeed human, but did not match any of the missing members of the Pandy family. That, authorities said, meant that there were in all probability other victims.

Perhaps, they would later speculate that as many as 13 people fell victim in Brussels to Pandy's blood lust. Some of them, they speculated might have been innocent women lured from Pandy's native Hungary through newspaper ads he had placed there searching for a bride.

She spelled out in graphic detail how she and her father, described by a fellow churchman as "unfathomable and mysterious," with a constant smirk, "a little smile, like Buddha," had killed their victims. Some were shot. Others bludgeoned to death with a sledgehammer. Then they hacked their victims to pieces and stuffed their remains in plastic bags, dumping some at a nearby abattoir, dipping others into a vat brimming with 21 liters of Cleanest, an acid cleanser that ate all the meat from the bones and then dissolved the bones themselves.

The full scope of the horror was beyond comprehension, Monsiuer thought. Much of it, as Monsiuer would soon learn, would be beyond the powers of the Belgian authorities to prove. But there was certainly enough evidence, what with the viscera that had been collected at Pandy's house and with the damning statement of his daughter, to prove that Andras Pandy was a deranged killer in a cleric's frock.

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