Shorty Long Legs

Kevin Dicoppolis was a thirty-two year-old electronics professor at a local technical institute in Tucson, Arizona.  At 3 foot 4 inches tall, he stood out on the campus.  Everyone knew him.  Aside from his teaching job, he volunteered as a youth leader every Sunday at a small Methodist church.  He enjoyed gardening and spending time with his cats.1

It was late Thursday afternoon, and Kevin rushed home to feed his cats and shower.  After a shower, he raced to his favorite Chinese restaurant, Ping's Noodle House, where he ate every Thursday, promptly at 5:00 pm.  He quickly devoured his meal and several cups of complimentary Chinese tea.  He was in a hurry, you see.  Thursday was a special day:  It was every Thursday night that he wandered the streets of downtown Tucson, looking for his next victim.2

Kevin was a creature of habit.  Everything had a time and a place.  He kind of reminded me of the Rain Man:  if he didn't get home in time to see Wapner, he would throw a fit.  3

Kevin was your all around nice guy.  Or, at least, he appeared that way.  What you wouldn't know about him by just looking at him was that he was a small predator.  Kevin was a wolverine.  And, now, he was on the hunt.4

With his small size, he hid perfectly behind any vehicle in the parking lot of the bar of his choice.  On this night, it would be the Cactus Moon Bar and Grill.  It was kind of a country bar with lots of cowboys and cowgirls line dancing and 'yee hawing' it up.  Kevin would spend all night crouched down, searching for the right individual.  His victim fit a profile:  He had to be at least 6 feet tall, and in between 185 to 200 pounds.  He also had to be inebriated, as this would help with the initial attack.  And, of course, he had to be male.  He chose this description as it perfectly matched his own father for whom he had a great resentment and hatred.5

Like a lion patiently waiting on the Serengeti plains to spring his trap on the dazed and confused wildebeest, Kevin waited to pounce.  Finally, his wait was over:  A man, perfectly fitting the profile, exited the bar at 1 AM.  The victim's name was Mike Jones.  He was 6 foot three and weighed approximately 200 pounds, and he was wasted.  As Mike staggered to his vehicle, Kevin slowly followed him, putting himself in position.  Kevin would have to wait for Mike to open his car door and enter the vehicle as he lacked the strength to move the 200-pound man.  6

Mike finally made it to his car and managed to roll down the window.  At that precise moment, Kevin came up on the driver side of the vehicle and injected Michael with a syringe at the back of the shoulder.  In a matter of moments, Mike was in a deep sleep.  Kevin, then, carefully rolled Michael over to the passenger seat, and fastened two home-made lifts to his shoes, which would allow him to drive the vehicle.  After stopping at his own car and grabbing something from the trunk, he calmly and carefully drove out of the parking lot, heading west.  He arrived at his location, a secluded part of the Tucson desert, about one hour outside of the city limits.  He patiently sat and drank a cup of coffee waiting for Mike to come to.  After about a forty minute wait, Michael started to wake up.  Kevin pulled a gun and forced Mike out of the vehicle.  They began walking off into the desert.  Just a couple hundred yards from the road, now, Mike became violently ill and expelled a copious amount of vomit.  7

They came to a large cactus, and before Mike could begin to beg for his life, Kevin squeezed the trigger twice.  Mike fell to the ground.  Kevin ran as quickly as his little legs would allow back to Mike's vehicle.  From the back seat, he retrieved the items that he previously got from his own car.  Returning to the corpse, dressed in a plastic rain poncho and goggles to protect from blood splatter, he pulled out his hacksaw and slowly began to cut Michael's legs just above the knee.  It took him approximately an hour to sever both legs.  Now, 4 AM, Kevin raced home, as he must teach in four hours.  8

He returned to the Cactus Moon, wiped down Michael's car to erase any evidence, then hopped in his own vehicle and headed home.  He stopped along the way, behind a gas station and dumped the rain poncho, goggles and hacksaw in the dumpster.9

Mike would be the eighth victim in eight weeks.  10

The reporter looks up as Kevin's mother had paused.  Before she could continue, however, the reporter interrupts:  "Do you know why your son would do such horrific acts?"11

The mother replies, "The only explanation I can think of is that Kevin hated his height.  His father was very abusive and never accepted Kevin as his child due to his short stature.  Also, kids can be cruel, you see.  After Kevin stopped growing, the insults, awkward stares, and rude comments began -- not just from kids at school, but from the general public as well.  Kevin hated regular-sized people.  I even think he hated me for bringing a short person into a tall world.  Sometimes, he would look at me, and I would see so much anger behind his eyes that it frightened me.  I've known Kevin had problems for many years, but how does a mother admit to herself that the world would be a better place without her son?  I did the best I could with him, and even after many years of therapy, which he resented me for, I think he just became worse."12

Just then, the grandfather clock in her dining room struck midnight, and one tear ran down her left cheek as she said, "I hope Kevin has found peace."13

Kevin Dicoppolis was sentenced to death and executed on September 24th, 2005, after being charged and convicted of eight counts of murder in the first degree as well as eight counts of mutilation of human remains.14