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Life on the Legal Coal Face with Greg Hollingsworth

34m 39s

Life on the Legal Coal Face with Greg Hollingsworth

In this episode of the returning "Blood Ties" podcast, hosts Molly and Jeffrey Wantsol introduce the case of Ronald Dominique, the "Bayou Strangler." Operating in rural Louisiana from 1997 to 2006, Dominique murdered at least 23 men. A socially isolated, overweight gay man who felt powerless and was bullied, he targeted vulnerable individuals—often teenagers, African Americans, and those living high-risk lifestyles. His method involved luring victims with promises of alcohol, drugs, housing, or group sex to his trailer, where he would overpower them (likely using drugs), rape them, and strangle them before dumping their bodies. The crimes remained under the radar for nearly a decade, as the victims were marginalized and the investigations were localized. The breakthrough came in 2006 when a surviving victim reported an attempted assault, leading to Dominique's DNA matching evidence from a 1998 murder. He promptly confessed to the killings. In 2008, he pleaded guilty in exchange for avoiding the death penalty and was sentenced to life imprisonment. The discussion frames his actions as driven by a desire for power and control over individuals he perceived as having even less societal standing than himself, drawing parallels to other serial killers motivated by similar impulses.

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this week on Blood Ties. He would meet them on walks or driving around in his pick-up or in gay bars. He would offer them alcohol or drugs or housing or group sex. He was particularly fond of saying to men, "Oh, I've got this girlfriend. And would you like to come home and have a threesome with us?" But then, lure them to his trailer, where the said girlfriend was reputed to be. Overpower them, I mean, you have to say there must have been some element of drugs in this, because he wasn't a huge man. And some of his victims were quite big. Tide them up and rape them. Hi, I'm Molly Wantsol. And I'm Jeffrey Wantsol. We are father and daughter. As those of you listened to Blood Ties in the past, we'll remember, and we meet every week, and often our conversation has turned to murder, which is why we originally launched Blood Ties, and why we've now decided to bring it back in its new, fresher form. We're really excited to be back, and we would love it if you could also check out our Patreon just search Blood Ties on Patreon. Thanks so much. Thank you. Hi everyone. Welcome back to the Blood Ties podcast. I'm Molly Wantsol, and I'm here with my father, Jeffrey Wantsol. Hello. Welcome back everyone to Blood Ties 2.0, the return. I've been quite a long return now, actually. We can back quite a long time. Yeah, I can't even remember how long. No, not a good night. But yes. Welcome back. Welcome back. Yeah. I've moved flat. Yeah, and people have been with you during that journey, was listening. You were in particular. Oh, me, haha. Yeah. Well, I was a big part of it for a small period of time. Yes. Well, very much so. I mean, I wouldn't be as well off as I am. In other words, as well settled as I am. Without your help. That's true. Yeah. I suppose I have done a bit to ensure you're well, I mean you're my dad, so. Well, no, I'm not about. I feel like I feel extremely lucky. That's my job to make sure you're okay. Well, I can assure you I am okay. Yeah. You took a bit of settling into what would say that. Yeah. Because it's just different. It's not. I like it. Lots of things I like about it. It's very light, very sunny, particularly lucky because we had quite a lot of sun recently. Yeah, the end of the day it gets good sunshine. Very good sunshine. And, you know, in many ways, I move from really quite a touristy street to a much more. Domestic street. Yeah, when I was, I was bettered here for a while, guys, just organizing everything and decorating and all sorts of stuff. And I could became very emotionally attached. I like this area a lot. I, yeah, I like it a lot more, even though it's only a five minute walk from your last place. I like it here. I like the people. I like the place. I like the proximity to the things. In any direction you can. I found a really nice little coffee shop set up by two guys from Birmingham, just like the other side of the Abel's Road. Plus lots of other places. Yeah. There's a coffee shop at the end of Domestry here, which is packed every day. I've just been there. The knockbox cafe. Oh, it's packed every day. Yeah, yeah. Very sweet. And the cafes. I've tried nearly all the cafes. And, yeah, I don't know. It's just the, it's a really, I like it here a lot. Yes, I feel. And the flat is you had to downsize a little bit, but that's not maybe the worst thing in the world. No, no, no. And, you know, we talked about it was really stressful at the time. And I tried to say like to what would it be like to envisage what it will be feel like not to have the weight of it on your shoulders anymore. And hopefully you're able to feel that now. I feel it much more. No, it will come gradually, but, you know, it's, it's, it, it, it works. And you don't have to think about it. I think interesting to mo is that. I went to see my doctor. And I'm very lucky. I have a very, very good GP. And I explained that I'm feeling it was finding all very, very stressful. She said, listen, there's nothing unusual in that. I told you she gave me something very simple for, you know, calm me down if you like. And that has made a considerable, I would say significant difference to me. Not in any sense that I become gar gar or, you know, but just less tense. And so, yes, I mean, I, everyone has been incredibly helpful, especially you. No, no smoking. No, no. It's a proper, it's a proper compliment. Yeah. Well, moving is stressful. So I just tried to take away the physical aspect of it, rather than anything else. I can't do much about all the other stuff. You can't, absolutely can't. But anyway, it's, it's very nice to be back doing baptise again. Yeah, I'm feeling more settled and more settled. Not feeling just like, oh, this is in a different place rather than like, or this is in your new place. Yeah, in a new, in a new environment. I've got a television men coming to see, so to know, because they want to change my box for a new box. Yeah. And so I said that would be lovely. Please come between one and six. So here I, I should be waiting for them between one and six. I deal. Well, they were very efficient when they came last time. Well, I'm, you know, and they've sent me a text message and they said, "You sure you want to keep the appointment?" I said, "Yes, I do." And, oh, dear. I mean, I mean, I get a text message to remind me to go and type a blood test tomorrow morning. Yes, I won't forget. I've already written it down in my old fashioned diary in pencil. Well, I think that probably comes from people losing a lot of money from people not turning up to stuff. Not turning up, yeah. It is so. Anyway, darling, I've got a, I've got a case for you. A new-ish one. Thanks to my, this excellent book, so I've wrote it for you. I love that book. This was a case I'd really never heard of. And it's a, I think the reason is it all took place, all this, the action of the case, all took place in rural Louisiana. A very, well, the old south. And that just where that massive shooting's up in. Sorry, darling? Isn't that where that massive shooting just happened? Yes, it is. Yes. The poor man killed seven of his own children. Anyway, this was a case I really never heard of. And one of the reasons I think it never got the publicity of, say, Bundy or Gacy or Dharma is that, well, it was hidden away. The only real coverage was in local newspapers. It didn't become a national story. And the resolution was all within rural Louisiana as well. And so there was no, you know, there wasn't a show trial. There was this just this extraordinary story, which I came across until that made, that would make a fabulous bloodtice. Okay, nice. Well, what's it called? We're going to call it the Bayou Strangler. Okay, so this is the Bayou Strangler. The Bayou Strangler was a man called Ronald Dominique. Actually, his name was Ronald Joseph Dominique. And he was born in a, please forgive me if you come from Louisiana if I get this pronunciation wrong. Tibado. T-H-I-B-O-D-A-U-X. Tibado. I wouldn't know how to pronounce that. Well, sorry, that's my bad. Okay. I'm tempted to, but please forgive me if you do. He was born in 1964 on the 9th of January. In this marvelous book, which I have referred to before, the lady who's an academic, makes the point that Dominique essentially existed beneath the radar. So let me begin with Dominique's story. The youngest of six children to a very poor family who lived in a trailer park on the outskirts of Tibado. At school, he was melancholic. He was just sad a lot of the time. He had no social skills. And he was overweight. And therefore bullied. And we add, of course, that he was white. He didn't do sports. He didn't do drugs. He didn't do alcohol. But at the age of about 14, he discovered he was gay. And started going to gay bars. Although, when asked, he insisted he wasn't gay. So you have a man or a young man at this point. conflicted. What am I? I don't want to come out because Rural Louisiana is not exactly rife with gay men. He graduated high school in 1983. We went to college to do computer science but dropped out. Now imagine him, he's now 2021. He's quite short. He's really quite chubby. He's got a round face. You can look him up. There are some pictures of him and Dominique exists in a sort of fringe world. He did odd jobs. You know, didn't get a quote proper job. He just sort of bumped from place to place. Anyway, we've seen that before and we have certain behaviors indeed. Well, in June 1985 at the age of 21, he was charged with sexual harassment using the telephone, which is quite unusual and he was fined $75. So you have the outline of something but I mean it's a tiny event really rang out and probably made improper suggestion. And that but I suppose that's the sort of like precursor behavior is it? Yes, I think you could say that. Calling up and phoning threatening in that way is a kind of yes, it's an early warning. It's a red flag. You now call it. But still he's in this twilight world. He struggles to hold down jobs. He's sofa surfs. He's sometimes he's living with his mother or his older sister. You know, he shares a trailer with his older sister at one point. I mean, this is not a man who's any roots at all. He just sad. That's the honest word to describe his life at that point. But he does he gets done for DUI in May 1994. I mean, you know, he's now nearly he's over 30. And in August. He did do alcohol then if you got done for DUI. Yes, he did. But he wasn't you know, you can't explain his behavior by alcoholism. Okay. Okay. In August 1996 when he was 32, a partially naked man jumped out of the window of Dominique's sister's house where Dominique was living. The man suggested that Dominique had tried to kill him and that he draped him. Again, you might say a very red flag. In fact, he was arrested. But the victim disappeared when it came to coming to trial. And so the case dropped. But he had been remanded in custody. And here comes another of the triggers. He had a very bad experience on remand in custody. He's an overweight gay man in one of the toughest prisoners in the South. Luizia and a state prison is a famous and called Angola believe it or not. And he had a very, very bad experience. And it made him determined that he wasn't going to go back to jail. Ironically, the way to do that would just not be committing any more crimes. That doesn't seem to be where this is going to go. Yeah. But here he is, a man now in his mid 30s unmarried no children spends most of his time when he's not doing odd jobs and in gay bars and particularly dressed as Patelabel the singer. He was a big fan of Patelabel now I can't summon up Patelabel instantly in my mind, but I'm sure you can. But I can't but I can look her up on the phone. Well, anyway, he had a bit of a reputation around the gay bars in rural Louisiana as a dressing up. But he was looked down on by the local gay community as he was small and couldn't sustain any kind of relationship gay or straight. So here we have the ultimate outsider dresses up as Patelabel goes to gay bars where he's looked down on because he can't sustain a proper relationship. You have a man you could almost say is bound at some point to try and make his mark on the world. Molly is looking anxiously at her phone. Well, now I'm trying to find a picture of him. Oh, okay. But now I've looked at Patelabel. Okay. Who's still alive? Did you know that? Yes. Yes. Well, the app shot of this extraordinary story is that between 1997 and 2006 Ronald Dominique killed at least 23 men. 23. At least. He doesn't remember some of the other ones he was to say later. I'm not going to detail all the killings because it would just simply be a litany of of ugliness. But let's begin at the beginning. His victims were mainly teenagers between and sometimes between 16 and 46. Not all were gay, but many were African-Americans. Okay. So you have a white gay man targeting African-American sometimes gay sometimes not. Right. He would meet them on walks or driving around in his pickup or in gay bars or it would offer them alcohol or drugs or housing or group sex. He was particularly fond of saying to men, oh, I've got this girlfriend. And would you like to come have a threesome with us? We then lure them to his trailer where that said girlfriend was reputed to be overpower them. I mean, that you have to say there must have been some element of drugs in this because he wasn't a huge man and some of his victims were quite big. Tie them up and rape them. He would then strangle them, put him in his truck and dump them in one of the six nearby parishes in rural Louisiana. I'm not going to go on and on about the horrors of decay. But the first victim in July 1997 when Dominique was 34 was a 19-year-old alcoholic named David Mitchell who'd been hitchhiking and he'd was found a couple of days later on July the 14th. He was found in a ditch with water in his lungs but no alcohol or drugs. He was an excellent swimmer and his trousers were around his ankles when he was found in the ditch and he wasn't gay. This original crime was identified as an accident. -Gatelly drowned. -Yes. He fell in the ditch. Except there was no alcohol in his body nor any drugs. In December that year 1997 a young man 20-year-old called Gary Peer was also found but again is identified as an accident. In July 1998 another six months later a vagrant called Larry Ransom who was actually 38 was the first victim and the other two were victims we must add. The first victim to be a found in bondage by Dominique and in October 1998 in other words about three-four months later Dominique commenced Oliver LaBanx. Dominique later claimed he'd offered him sex for money. There was no doubt that he'd been beaten and then strangled and Dominique had left Seaman on LaBanx's body. Over the next seven years 19 other victims were found all within just six Louisiana parishes but it wasn't until February 2005 a very long time later that anyone put two and two together and the FBI finally got involved. Is this because mainly the victims were vulnerable or slightly on the edges of society? I think Professor Marissa Harrison puts it rather well in her book she says and I quote "Dominique killed people who had even less power than he did. Men who lived a high risk lifestyle." His first victim Mitchell found in a canal the trigger for Dominique becoming a serial killer was that the second rape victim had reported him to the police and Dominique went to prison and where he was himself raped as a result hence the determination not to go back to prison. Dominique and again again let me quote the academic here. Dominique was exposed to incest, experienced poverty was bullied about. about his sexual orientation, had poor health, consistently felt powerless in his dealings with people and the institutions and had been raped. That is not offering an excuse, simply an assessment. So let's take a little break. The last confirmed victim of the Bayou Strangler was a man called Christopher Sutterfield, who had gone on a date with Dominique and his friends confirmed they'd seen him and a man driving in a black SUV, which is what at this point Dominique was driving. But they couldn't identify Dominique. He doesn't actually properly come to the notice of the police until November 2006. We're now talking about 10 years. After a man called Ricky Wallace reported to police that Dominique had lured him into his trailer on the offer of sharing drugs and have sex with a girl, he also suggested that he tie Wallace up but Wallace refused and ran off. Dominique was questioned and agreed to donate a blood sample and DNA matched the semen of Oliver LeBank's member, the fourth victim, and he was eventually arrested on the 1st of December 2006. He had been quietly but consistently killing in rural Louisiana for the past 10 years. There's no manhunt, there's no great sensational headlines, nothing. When he got to the police station, he said to them, "Well I knew it was only a matter of time before someone called up with me." Well, Kareiki, he confessed without a moment's hesitation to at least 23 murders, giving details that no one else could have known about where the bodies were, who they were, where he met them. Can you imagine the interview that must have been? I can't imagine the local police department being open-mouthed. What? We've had a serial killer here for 10 years, he's killed 23 people and we didn't notice. How many of this in that sense is like Dennis Nielsen? When the police went to see Dennis Nielsen, they said, "We've come about the drains." Well, when they walked into the flat, they found the head on the stove. It's often the most ridiculous things. When Nielsen gets into the police car, the wait that taking him to Crickford Police Station, the officer says to see him beside him and says, "Well tell me how many victims are there?" He said, "Oh, 16 or so." You can almost defies belief. He didn't admit guilt to the attacks. They volunteered to be tied up and handcuffed because they wanted to earn money. I agree, flimsy. He also suggested to the police that he would kill the witnesses because he didn't want to go back to prison again as he had back in 1996 when he was held on remand. In September 2008, Dominic made a plead bargain, saying he'd plead guilty in exchange for not being given the death sentence. Louisiana is a death sentence state. He was in fact sentenced to eight life sentences without parole, but at least he avoided the death penalty. Ironically, he was sent back to the state prison in Angola. Where he didn't want to go back to? But by then, I think probably why I can't say he had his fill of killing, but he probably would have gone on if nobody had found him. In her excellent book, which I've recommended before, Professor Harrison, this is a book called "Just as Deadly" about the psychology of female serial killers, and this is a male serial killer, it insists that crimes are all about sex, power, and control, but they were not impulsive. She points out that he kept little bits of trophies. Many of them were found without their shoes. Another of those odd quirks we've come across before, haven't we? And this is a man. Well, it was described in some, this all came out as a result of the, in fact, police investigation, because obviously they went to talk to the gay community. And he was a hell of a nickname, it was called "Mismoped" because he had this little motorized cycle, which used to go round on. The sort of him dressed as Patent Lebel on a motorized cycle is actually quite, and if it wasn't so horrifying. He's extraordinary, and he's extraordinary. And he's, remember, this is a man I should remind you, is five foot five. He's not exactly a giant in any way. It's as if during the day he was Ronald Domini, and at night he was someone completely different. And I don't want to do that awful cliche of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, but there is an element of the fact that he came alive at night. That sense of being an outsider is something that we've seen time and again. It's often the man you least expect. It's often the man who's, you know, just living on the fringes and targeting men on the fringes. But like she said, it's a, you know, it makes sense. It's like a power and control thing. If you felt very out of control or that you've had no. And this was the way of getting back. Right. Yeah. So logically it makes sense to that, you know, that's the only way that you able to feel that you've got control over anything. And that's incredibly common. Well, it's interesting. If you, there are some interesting parallels, say with the case of Stephen Port, you know, the killer in this country who attacked gay men, left them in the church yard. And that was about power and control too. Yeah. It was about, Nielsen, it's about power and control. Nielsen wanted them to be virtually sort of unconscious, whereas Port wanted them to be conscious, but not very conscious. Yeah. And you've got that element of control is almost always at the heart of these kinds of terrible multiple cases. It's difficult for me. I'm straight and be, you know, I've never lusted after that level of power and control. But there are those who do. Well, yeah, especially if you have that psychological bend and then you've, you've had enough bringing and experiences and again, not an excuse, but it does help to give some kind of context. Yes. I mean, we don't know a lot about Dominique's father, for example. We know that he lived in a very female household. His mother was a dominant factor and over older sisters. So, you know, we have, yeah, it's a tough one, though. I'm not offering any excuses, whatever, for Dominique, who incidentally is only 62 and is still in prison in Angola in Louisiana. And we'll be for the rest of his life. It's interesting that a few cases are coming up, already this season of that you would think would have more notoriety. Yes. So maybe we've done so many that now we have to. But it's just interesting that they're ones where when you actually look at the cold hard facts or how is it possible? No one, people don't know about these. Like what, what makes a case noteworthy? What makes it a household, what makes a serial killer, a household name? Well, I think that is interesting, but there's also the gay elements of the crimes. A lot of the victims or almost all the victims were African-American. They were almost all gay, not all, but almost all gay. Was there an element in the rural Louisiana police departments that didn't rate? Oh, a thousand percent. Plus, if you're on the fringes of, so I mean, that's why so many people target the vulnerable because they don't, that's why sex workers get targeted. That's why people that took people in care have been targeted. People who have no fixed name at home and have no way to push back. Yeah, I mean, that's just, but again, especially for someone like that who is clearly, you know, seeking power because he cannot exert that in another way. You're not going to then go and like pick a really sort of like powerful or dominant person. Yes, well, again, I raised a parallel with Stephen Ford because there is no doubt that the police investigation did not take those killing seriously. Did not take the killing seriously? Yeah. And I mean, the victim family, they say, they say that, don't they? They do. In fact, one of the victims, the last victims' mother said persistently. That boy Jack. Yes, the boy Jack. I really feel that one is really. And she pointed out to the police afterwards, if that had been a white girl in a graveyard in barking, he would have paid much more attention. 100 percent. 100 percent. And that is, I think that's another underlying issue in the Bayou Strangler. Yeah, I mean, unconscious bias is or in some cases, very conscious bias. Sometimes I mean, in the heat of the night. - Is a difficult one. And we better not even get into policing 'cause we'll be here all day. - No, we will be here all day. But that's the case of the Bayou Strangler, which is interesting because he's not a household name, by any means, it's not what often talked about. There have been one or two documentaries over the years, mostly on YouTube, but really, no, you know, it is actually an absolutely fascinating story in every way with lots of facets. But it proves that old adage of, you know, do be very wary about who you meet. - Yeah, absolutely. Well, that was the Bayou Strangler. - You look positively shell-shocked. - Well, yeah. Before we started, dad was like, do you want to do this one or this one first? I was like, they both sound awful. We're never gonna hit with top-chiric content, are we? - Well, I'm afraid it's not really built that nicely. - Not really in the nature of it, is it? - Not really. - It's just not that my mind ever wanders, but I think I did just think for a second there. I wonder what it would be like if we met up and talked about something like. - Well, like cookery or how to make friends? - No, no, no. I was just listening to a podcast on the way here that was just like an interest, like, you know, there are other things one can learn about, that like the horrific rhymes. - I'm so sorry. - No, don't apologize. But we do this because so many people are interested in it and I'm very interested in the psychology of it. I'm very interested in the behavior of people. I don't love the gruesome nature of some of the-- - I wasn't going on about it. - No, you don't at all. And that is the nature of it, isn't it? But I am hugely interested in what makes people who they are and what makes people do what they do. And why is it that two people can have two very similar experiences and one goes one, one goes the other? Or, you know, as Gab Wormatte says, you know, no two siblings grow up in the same household. I just think that's a really interesting concept. - Everybody, I mean, I remember arguing this when I was 16, you know, the reason you get different painters painting different, the same scene. And yet they see it through completely different eyes. That they see it through their eyes. - Yeah, yeah, I was just watching a new series of landscape artists of the year actually. And yeah, I mean, they just sit, take artists in looking at the same view. But of course, not one person paints the same. - No, and in a way, that's why it's so hard often to put yourself in the shoes of someone. I can understand some of the motivations. I can get to grips with that if you like. But it's terrifying. - Yeah. - What is it that we've had the argument many times? - Many times. (laughing) And I don't think we'll ever find the answer. - I don't think there is an answer, but there may be some hints along the way, you know. - Thankfully, there's very tevac, academic PhD owning people who will do the deep research for us. - And they do. - I know, I know. I wouldn't there, so interesting. - It's a particularly interesting book because it's about, it's called Justice Deadly and it's by Marissa A. Harrison. It's available from Cambridge University Press. But it's looking at female serial killers, which are very rare. - They're very rare. - Besides, a female serial killer will almost certainly use poison, or if not a knife. They will not use gun and save work. They don't, that's not the way they do. - They don't try to do it anymore. - They don't, no. Much, much more likely to smother, or increase the dose if they happen to be a nurse. - Well, very interesting. Thank you so much to all the people who help us or produce a Peter, my brother, Dan, who did the music. A Jeffrey who does all the hard work and to the listeners, thank you so much. - Thank you so much for listening. And as I say, bad things happen to good people, so do please be careful out there. (gentle music)

Podcast Summary

Key Points:

  1. The podcast "Blood Ties" returns with hosts Molly and Jeffrey Wantsol discussing a case from rural Louisiana.
  2. The case involves serial killer Ronald Dominique, known as the "Bayou Strangler," who murdered at least 23 men between 1997 and 200
  3. Dominique, a marginalized, overweight gay man, lured vulnerable men (often teenagers and African Americans) with offers of drugs, housing, or sex before overpowering, raping, and strangling them.
  4. His crimes went largely unnoticed for years due to the victims' marginalized status and the rural setting, until DNA evidence linked him to a murder in 200
  5. Dominique confessed, pleaded guilty to avoid the death penalty, and received multiple life sentences, highlighting themes of power, control, and targeting those with even less societal power than himself.

Summary:

In this episode of the returning "Blood Ties" podcast, hosts Molly and Jeffrey Wantsol introduce the case of Ronald Dominique, the "Bayou Strangler." Operating in rural Louisiana from 1997 to 2006, Dominique murdered at least 23 men. A socially isolated, overweight gay man who felt powerless and was bullied, he targeted vulnerable individuals—often teenagers, African Americans, and those living high-risk lifestyles. His method involved luring victims with promises of alcohol, drugs, housing, or group sex to his trailer, where he would overpower them (likely using drugs), rape them, and strangle them before dumping their bodies.

The crimes remained under the radar for nearly a decade, as the victims were marginalized and the investigations were localized. The breakthrough came in 2006 when a surviving victim reported an attempted assault, leading to Dominique's DNA matching evidence from a 1998 murder. He promptly confessed to the killings. In 2008, he pleaded guilty in exchange for avoiding the death penalty and was sentenced to life imprisonment. The discussion frames his actions as driven by a desire for power and control over individuals he perceived as having even less societal standing than himself, drawing parallels to other serial killers motivated by similar impulses.

FAQs

The Bayou Strangler is Ronald Joseph Dominique, a serial killer who murdered at least 23 men in rural Louisiana between 1997 and 2006.

He would meet victims in places like gay bars or while driving, offering them alcohol, drugs, housing, or group sex, often using the promise of a threesome with a girlfriend to lure them to his trailer.

He came from a poor family, was bullied for being overweight and gay, struggled socially, and held odd jobs while living on the fringes of society in rural Louisiana.

He was arrested in December 2006 after a DNA match linked him to a victim, and he confessed to at least 23 murders, providing details only the killer would know.

He pleaded guilty in a plea bargain to avoid the death penalty and was sentenced to eight life sentences without parole in September 2008.

He targeted vulnerable men, often those living high-risk lifestyles, as a means to exert power and control, driven by his own feelings of powerlessness and past trauma.

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