I’ve always been the weirdo at parties who brings up serial killers after two glasses of wine. (Sorry, not sorry.) But there’s something about BTK that hits different — and it’s not just his horrifying moniker. It’s those damn codes.
Dennis Rader, the man behind the “Bind, Torture, Kill” signature, wasn’t just murdering people in Wichita, Kansas. He was playing a sick game of cat and mouse with authorities through cryptic messages that would make your high school algebra teacher sweat.
The Twisted Mind Behind the Codes
The first time I read about BTK’s communications, I was eating spaghetti in my college dorm. Bad idea. His initial 1974 letter contained a cryptogram that, to this day, hasn’t been fully deciphered.
Picture this: You’re a detective in the ’70s. No internet. No fancy algorithms. Just you, a pencil, and a serial killer’s puzzle taunting you from your desk. (I would have survived this, though. I’ve done enough crosswords.)
BTK wasn’t sending these codes because he was some cryptographic genius. He was feeding his ego — creating this mastermind persona while working as a compliance officer by day. The duality is almost as disturbing as the crimes themselves.
Breaking Down the Ciphers
The 1974 letter used what cryptography experts call a homophonic substitution cipher — basically, multiple symbols can represent the same letter. It’s like if I decided “X,” “&,” and “7” all meant “A” in a message to you. Good luck figuring that out without a key.
His 1988 communication was slightly less complex, using a basic substitution cipher where each letter is swapped for another. Think of those decoder rings you got in cereal boxes as a kid, except this one came with a side of terror.
What fascinates me (in that can’t-look-away-from-a-car-crash kind of way) is that BTK’s codes weren’t actually that sophisticated. They were just complicated enough to stump law enforcement working with limited resources. Ryan, my husband, once pointed out that BTK was “basically just a murderous nerd with a puzzle book” — and honestly, he’s not wrong.
The Fatal Floppy Disk
After years of silence, BTK resurfaced in 2004 with new communications. In a twist that would make any IT professional facepalm into oblivion, he asked police if sending them a floppy disk could be traced back to him.
When they said no (a lie as brilliant as it was simple), he sent one. The metadata on that disk led investigators directly to Christ Lutheran Church and a user named “Dennis.” As someone who works in corporate IT security, this mistake makes me simultaneously cringe and cheer.
The FBI’s cryptanalysis experts weren’t what caught him — it was his own technological incompetence. Sometimes the most complex codes are undone by the simplest human errors.
Try Your Hand at Code-Breaking
Want to feel like you’re in a true crime documentary? Try deciphering this simplified version of a BTK-style code:
“8-15-23 13-1-14-25 16-5-15-16-12-5 23-9-12-12 9 11-9-12-12”
(Hint: Each number represents a letter’s position in the alphabet. Would I make a good serial killer? Absolutely not — I’ve just watched too many episodes of Mindhunter.)
The Wichita Police Department spent decades trying to catch BTK while he taunted them with these puzzles. Imagine the frustration of knowing someone is out there, killing people, and sending you homework.
The Psychology Behind the Puzzles
Serial killers who communicate through codes aren’t just trying to avoid capture — they’re performing. BTK wanted recognition for his “work” (gag) while maintaining control over his narrative.
The codes served as his twisted signature, like a painter signing their canvas. Except instead of oil paints, he was using people’s lives and fear as his medium. (And now I need a shower after writing that sentence.)
For true crime enthusiasts like me who devour true crime podcasts by the dozen, these codes represent the ultimate unsolved mystery within an already disturbing case. They’re the macabre cherry on top of a horrifying sundae.
The Legacy of BTK’s Codes
Today, BTK’s codes serve as training material for new generations of criminal investigators. His communications have been studied by behavioral analysts trying to understand the mind of a killer who lived a double life as a family man and church leader.
What keeps me up at night (besides literally everything else) is wondering what other killers might be out there right now, sending coded messages that haven’t been cracked yet. Or worse — not sending messages at all.
So tonight, when you triple-check your door locks (you’re welcome), remember that sometimes the scariest monsters aren’t the ones who hide in shadows — they’re the ones hiding in plain sight, sending puzzles to the police while serving on the church council.
Sleep tight!