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Even in this clip, after he’d been convicted of four murders, two of which would get him a lethal injection just four months after this interview, the young woman helping him seemed transfixed by his every word. As she turned and walked away, I swear I saw the hint of a blush in her cheeks as she moved out of frame.

The interview itself was supposed to be prime-time programming on SNC, the highest-rated cable news channel in the country. My father had worked for SNC for fifteen years. First as a special legal correspondent. Then he hosted his own true crime show lasting two seasons.

He hadn’t been in front of a camera for over a decade now, but thankfully, his connections at the station still proved fruitful.

Both Dad and I were riveted to the screen as Sidney and his interviewer, Tanya Talbot, bantered while the production crew fiddled with lighting and Sidney’s makeup.

“How does my tie read?” Sidney asked as he lifted his chin for a powder brush.

“It’s busy,” Tanya said. “Patrice, bring the blue one. The solid.”

Within seconds, Sidney was handed a blue silk tie. With expert speed, he removed the offending one and tied the new one into a perfect Windsor knot without benefit of a mirror.

“I’m ready to get this over with,” he said, waving the powder brush away. “Do you understand our agreement? I’m not here to discuss my personal life. You understand the parameters.”

“I understand,” Tanya said. “I know my producers fully prepped you.”

“What is she doing?” Dad said. “They gave him the questions in advance? I would never have agreed to that. And all this primping. This would have never happened on my watch. These are gonna be canned, bland questions.”

“I’m hoping you’ll change your mind though,” Tanya said. “You understand this is going to be your last chance to speak to the public directly.”

“Directly? Directly after your editors butcher what I have to say.”

“That’s not how I operate. There will be edits. But not to the full answers you give me. I’m very careful about context in the interviews I conduct. But you already know that. That’s why you chose me for this.”

“He’s playing her already,” Dad said. “If Sidney had final approval on who he’d let interview him, I doubt it was because he respected her work. Tanya’s a great person. But this thing was out of her league. They should have given it to someone more seasoned. Phil Bradley.”

“Or you,” I said. “Would you have done it?”

“In a second,” he said. “I’d have made him submit to the one thing he never faced: a proper cross-examination. He never took the stand in either of his murder trials.”

Tanya asked Sidney about his childhood. He grew up in rural Indiana. His mother died by the time he was eight. While his father worked as an airline pilot, Sidney spent most of his formative years being bounced around between various aunts and uncles from both sides of the family.

“At least eighteen women,” Tanya said. “These murders were intimate, Derrek. With your bare hands. What would you like to say to their families?”

Derrek’s face turned to stone. “That’s your question? You think that helps them? Would it help you if your sister was one of them?”

There was no coverage of Tanya’s face. I wondered whether the question shocked her. “What was it like?” she asked. “Killing them.”

My dad swore under his breath.

Sidney’s face split into a devastating smile. “Mary Rodrigo fought the most. I still have the scars on my chest. I’m most proud of Andrea Marion. I was at the top of my game that night. Though using that wire around her neck was messier than I liked. Leaving blood is a risk.”

He continued describing every murder, but the Deadwater Lake girls, in graphic detail. I felt sick to my stomach.

“Do you feel bad for them? The families? You took their daughters away. Their girlfriends. Sisters. Granddaughters. You have a son of your own, don’t you? Can you at least imagine what it would feel like to lose him like that?”

No response from Sidney.

“At least she’s pushing him,” I said. “He said he wouldn’t talk about his personal life.”

“I lost him years ago,” Sidney said. “I do feel bad about that. He won’t ever escape who he is. He’s Derrek Sidney’s son. As far as the world cares, that’s all he’ll ever be. Someday, he’ll understand the greatness in it.”

“Oh, brother,” I said.

Sidney gave details about how he met a few of the women he killed. In the beginning, they were dates. Some he met online. One he’d been introduced to by a family friend. Melissa James. Her case was one of the first ones to put Sidney under suspicion.

Sidney gave thin answers. He found them all lovely. Innocent.