William "The Mutilator" Macdonald

I Meet the Mutilator

When the guard ushered William MacDonald into the room and I took my first look at him, a feeling that I have never felt before and doubt that I shall ever experience again came over me. It could be best described as a combination of relief that we were finally about to meet, and the sadness of an old man's predicament. But most of all it was as if I was being re-united with a long-lost friend or a relative I hadn't seen for many years. It was incredible and the memory of our first meeting shall live with me forever.

He extended his hand and I shook it and his handshake was firm, warm and friendly. But it was a handshake that hadn't shaken another human being's hand in many years.

"Hello Bill," I said as I introduced myself. "I've been looking forward to meeting you for a long time".

"It's a pleasure to meet you," he replied graciously as he sat down to face me. "I believe you have some questions you would like to ask me".

At almost 77, Bill MacDonald looked extremely fit for his age. He wasn't handcuffed or manacled in any way and apart from a noticeable stoop and a slight shuffle in his walk, he appeared to be in good physical health and his lean five foot six inch frame could have been the envy of men many years his junior.

He explained that the dark glasses that he wore throughout the interview were to protect his eyes as he suffered from glaucoma and the fluorescent lights could be damaging. His strict vegetarian diet saw to it that his skin was taught and filled with colour but there was no escaping the fact that he was getting on. What little hair he did have left had turned to curly grey candy floss and the white Van Dyke whiskers did little to cover the missing row of front teeth that a younger man's vanity would have almost certainly replaced, in prison or not.