In a way, prison was a relief to him; he had always fared better behind bars than on the streets. The stress of maintaining his images out in the real world weighed crushingly on him; it was so much easier in the unreal world of prison. He popped vitamins and munched health foods. He built up a considerable collection of socks, and slipped into an occasional reverie about how delightful it would be to wear a brand-new pair every day of the year. He drifted on a cloud of smuggled marijuana and hashish.

All in all, with his dope and his socks and his mysticism, Bundy was a mellow prisoner. Now and then a guard would marvel : Bundy, you’re such a nice guy. I can’t figure it out. And Bundy would flash his Cheshire cat smile. He got an incredible amount of mail, hundreds of letters a year – many from young women who said they had fallen in love with him, but also letters from people who hated him, and from people who wanted to write books about him, makes movies of his life, save his soul. When he answered a letter, he generally ended his response with the words, « peace, ted, » all lowercase. Visitors came often, and when they did, Bundy liked to discourse on liberal causes. He claimed to support women’s rights and oppose global warming. And he was always dreaming up money-making schemes. « One time, he asked me for all the information I could come up with on children’s gardening, » said Michael Radelet, the University of Florida sociologist and foe of the death penalty. « He had this idea that you could make a lot of money selling ten – or fifteen – dollar gardening kits for kids. They’d have a little rake and a little shovel and some little gloves and some seeds. »

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