The Killer Who Said He Sold Human Burgers

Joe Metheny is already in custody for murder when he asks if you want to hear about the others.

You expect another body. Instead, Joe starts talking about a roadside food stand.

Then he tells you what he claims he mixed into the meat.

You look like a man who's eaten on that road, detective.

Joe leans back. The cuffs click against the table, slow, like a clock.

So tell me. You want to know if it's true.

which place are you talking about?

South of the yard. That little stretch where the trucks slow down.

You know the one. Pit beef, sandwiches, grease on the paper.

His eyes never leave yours. He's not asking. He's checking.

Somebody fed you lunch there one day, didn't they, detective.

i might have, who takes notes whre they eat

Nobody takes notes where they eat. That's the whole point of it.

You chew, you swallow, you forget. Everybody forgets.

He smiles like a man holding something you can't take back.

I didn't forget. I kept count. There's more than one out there, detective.

And if you want to know what went in that meat — you'll have to dig for it.

He shifts forward, cuffs dragging the table, and waits to see if you'll ask where.

wtf r u talking about?

Don't do that. Don't go stupid on me now.

You heard me fine. More than one. I'm not talking about Spicer.

He watches the horror land, and likes it. It's the only thing he owns in this room.

You want names, you want proof? I'll give you a place.

Behind the pallet yard. But you people better bring shovels.

He leans back, satisfied, waiting for you to ask him to prove it.

You don't blink. You write the name of the yard down anyway.

Good. Now you're working, detective.

Start behind the pallets. That's where she's waiting.

Joe gives you a location behind the pallet yard.

By daylight, the place looks almost ordinary.

Then the digging starts.

The first search finds nothing.

Joe looks at the ground and tells you to move ten feet.

This time, the soil gives something back.

Human remains.

The name is Catherine Magaziner.

Joe told you where she was because Joe put her there.

He admits strangling her inside his trailer.

Then you ask the question nobody wants answered.

Why?

Joe does not blame rage.

I liked the feeling of power.

killing gave him a rush.

The room gets quieter after that.

Because the body proves at least one part of his story was real.

Then Joe starts talking about other women.

Other nights.

And the roadside stand again.

You still have no proof anyone ate what Joe claims they ate.

But now you know one terrifying thing.

When Joe gives you a location, sometimes there is a body waiting there.

You're back. I knew you'd come back.

The file on the table between you is thicker than it was yesterday. Catherine Magaziner's name is inside it now.

You found her where I said. So now you're wondering how many more of those I got.

He holds up his cuffed hands and counts on his fingers, slow, watching your face the whole time.

You want to start at the beginning, detective? Or you want to start with the ones I can prove?

how many people have you killed u piece of shit?

There it is. There's that face.

You want a number? I'll give you one. But numbers are cheap, detective. You know that.

He leans forward until the chain between the cuffs pulls taut against the table's edge.

Spicer, you got. Magaziner, you got. That's two you can hang on me.

After that? Let's just say you don't have enough paper in that folder.

He's watching your hands now, the way he watched the ground before he told them to move ten feet.

You're writing this down. Good. You should write down every name I give you.

Some of them will lead you to bones. Some of them won't lead you anywhere at all.

And you won't know which is which till you dig. That's the game now.

*I stand and I slap him so hard that his teeth fall out*

The sound of it fills the small room. Your chair tips back and catches against the wall.

He doesn't cry out. He rolls something in his mouth, and spits a tooth onto the table between you.

There he is. There's the real you.

He grins through the blood, wider than before, and it's the worst thing you've seen all day.

You know what that gets you, detective? Nothing. I'm already buried. You're the one with a career.

But go ahead. Hit me again. It's the most honest thing anybody's said to me all week.

Somewhere down the hall, a door closes. The digging crews finished an hour ago. It's just the two of you now.

Now. You still want those names, or you want to hit me some more? Either way, I'm not going anywhere.

He settles back, blood on his chin, and waits — patient as a man who has nothing left to lose and knows it.

Names, then. Since you asked so nice.

He starts talking again, low and even, past the blood in his mouth.

The room is quiet now. Just his voice, your file, and the tooth on the table.

Joe keeps talking after the digging stops.

Catherine Magaziner was real.

Her remains were exactly where he said they would be.

Kimberly Spicer was real too.

Joe was already serving life without parole for killing her.

So when Joe describes more victims, detectives have a reason to listen.

He claims there were as many as ten.Investigators cannot prove them all.

Then you return to the claim that made the room go silent.

The roadside food stand.

I mixed human remains with meat.

strangers bought it without knowing.

But this time, there is no grave to uncover.

No remains from a burger stand.

No physical evidence proving anyone ate what Joe described.

The murders are horrifying because police can prove them.

The burger story is horrifying because they cannot.

Joe pleads guilty to Catherine’s murder and robbery.

A jury sentences him to death.

Maryland’s highest court later throws that death sentence out.

But Joe is already serving life without parole for Kimberly Spicer’s murder.

He will never walk out of prison.

Yet the claim people remember most is the one investigators never proved.

Maybe Joe confessed because he wanted the truth known.

Or maybe the last thing Joe Metheny ever sold was the story everyone still believes.