In the late nineteen seventies, a killer’s voice began to haunt the emergency lines of Minnesota. It wasn’t a voice of pride or malice. It was a voice choked with tears. In a cramped dispatch room, an operator would answer, and a man would sob into the line—not boasting of his crimes, but begging to be stopped.
His voice would crack and splinter, a desperate swing from a guilty murmur to a pan...
