The Lab Coat Killer

At the Intersection of Writing and Life

Alan “The Pie Man” Rupp. Image from the Louisville International Airport terminal courtesy of my friend Ria DeCamp.

Author’s preface: This story was written in response to a writing challenge on another web publishing platform. The challenge was called Not Quite There and the prompt was: Share a story that never fully came together, along with what’s holding it back.

“The papers are calling him the lab coat killer on account of the fact that all of the dead have been scientists. Four so far, all men, each an expert in a different scientific discipline.” As he spoke, detective Moss slid today’s newspaper across the table to his partner, detective Jimmy Valentine. The headline screamed “Lab Coat Killer Strikes Again” in big bold letters. Jimmy digested that headline, turned it over in his head a few times, before speaking “Stupid name, but it is sort of catchy. The media are gonna have a field day with this, and that is going to make our jobs even harder than they already are.” He slid the paper back across the table with a spinning motion which sent it careening directly back into the hands of his ten year partner on the force. Moss slammed both his hands down hard on the table, momentarily stunning Jimmy. “God damn it Jim, those media assholes better stay the fuck out of my way.”

That’s as far as I got and it is as far as that particular story will ever go. It is not because I do not think it could have been a good story or even a great one, although the chances of that are pretty low. I am really not what one would call a genre writer and if I were, a gritty, crime noir, hard boiled detective, serial killer story would be about as far from my comfort zone as one could get, with the possible exception of a harlequin romance. I do like a challenge and I think that is what attracted me to the idea in the first place. The reason the story will never be finished is personal and has to do with events surrounding the idea for the story and more importantly events that happened shortly after I began to write it.

Below you will find an entirely accidental text message exchange from January of 2024 between myself and a man by the name of Alan “The Pie Man” Rupp. I had intended to send the messages to my wife, but in my excitement to relay the idea I inadvertently sent them to Alan instead. Alan was a good friend from my hometown of Louisville, Kentucky and something of a local celebrity there. I met him through my job. He was a client of the company I worked for and I assisted him with a variety of food safety related odds and ends over the three years or so I knew him. He founded and owned Kern’s Kitchen, famous for its trademarked Derby-Pie® which is very much associated with Kentucky and specifically Louisville and the Kentucky Derby. The exact recipe is a closely guarded secret but it has walnuts and chocolate chips and is delicious. The pies are still made by hand at the insistence of Alan who believed that was the only way to maintain the quality of the pies his family was famous for.

Me: I had an idea for a serial killer story. The lab coat killer. A disgruntled scientist who kills other scientists using methods appropriate to their field of work. For example his/her first victim is a food microbiologist that is killed by being force fed exactly 375g of ground beef intentionally contaminated with a very high level of highly toxigenic e coli 0157:h7.

Me: He’s handcuffed to a chair and dies of kidney failure/dehydration. Covered in his own vomit and feces. Pretty gross.

Me: The killer is very specific in methods. Like even down to the subdiscipline level. A food micro scientist killed very diff from a clinical micro or virologist . And it’s all disciplines from physics to biology to chemistry

Me: But not mathematics or engineers. Only “scientists”

Me: Was thinking would be focused mostly on two detectives working the case

Me: The killer gonna be female. Modeled on you sort of. Robbed of PhD Taking revenge. Highly trained and skilled in various deadly arts.Was thinking very grim and dark. Sort of like seven but set in like alternate earth where things are similar but not exactly the same

It was at this point that I realized I had sent those texts to Alan, not my wife. Embarrassed I continued to text.

Me: Hah. Sorry Alan. Wrong conversation.

Alan: I am on the edge of my seat!!! You can’t stop now.

Me: I’ll fill you in when we meet up. Lol. Shit. I sent you that entire string. Hah! Was meant for Jen.

Alan: Tell Jen hi.

Me: Thurs work for you? I guess I can get you a bit part in the movie version.

Alan: Yes. At 6? Cranky old gray haired very mad scientist. Don’t kill me off till the end. No vomit. Hah

Me: I was thinking gruff but lovable police commander with a heart of gold.

Alan: I’ll need a haircut to better look the part.

Me: And a 5 o’clock shadow. But u got the whiskey drinking down already 6p Connor’s on Hurstbourne?

Alan: Ok. C u then

I visited Louisville again in March of 2024 and met up with Alan again for dinner. We talked about many things including his still up in the air plans for a possible retirement from the pie business. In May I exchanged a couple of texts with him about that year’s Kentucky derby winner. You may be surprised to learn my real name is not Everyday Junglist, but actually Dan, and the name of the winning horse was Mystic Dan prompting the below text exchange.

Me: Pls tell me you had money on mystic Dan. Lol

Alan: You bet I did. $2 exacta box with Sierra Leon.$258. In the old days we would be headed out on the town to rock that $258. Its a bitch getting old.

Me: Hah! Nice. You can buy me a drink with half the next time I’m in town.

It was during this time that I finally began to write that serial killer story I had accidentally messaged Alan about way back in January. I only made it as far as what I included as the opening paragraph of this piece. On June 7, 2024 at 9:47AM I received the below text message from Alan.

Alan: Hoping to get some council frm you if you get a chance. Alan

I remember seeing the note Friday afternoon and I had intended to respond but then got pulled away into other things and forgot about it until the next morning. I texted back and said sure I would be happy to talk, made a couple of stupid jokes, and then asked him to text me back with some proposed times. I got no reply and so followed up with another message on Monday asking if he still wanted to talk. Instead of a reply from Alan I got a message back from is son Matt. Below is that message string

Me: You still want to chat?

Matt: Hi Daniel, this is Alan’s son Matt. So sorry to be telling you this but our father passed away suddenly on Friday evening.

Me: Oh no. I’m so sorry. I just saw him not that long ago and he seemed so vibrant and healthy. Typical Alan. You have my sincerest condolences. Louisville has lost a true friend and living legend.

Me: And I’ve lost one as well.

Me: Last text I had from him was Friday morning asking to talk.

Me: I can’t believe I didn’t see it until Saturday. Ughh. I’m so sorry.

On Tuesday June 11 I received another text message, this time from Alan’s sister.

Thank you Daniel. This is Alan’s sister. It was a freak accident off his back deck and just landed in the wrong spot. We are all so shocked and lost. I’m not sure what he was seeking council on but I’ll reach out if I figure it out.

Me: I’m so sorry and thank you for letting me know I was afraid I had missed a call for help. My sincerest condolences. Your brother was a true friend to me though I only knew him for a few years. I will miss him tremendously. Coming back to visit Louisville won’t be the same with him gone.

I have missed him tremendously. Alan was a very special and unique individual. There are a very few people in this world whose very aura makes them instantly likable. People, who, when they walk into a room the entire atmosphere changes, and suddenly everything just feels better. No matter what might be happening in your own life at the time, when you are with this person everything feels like it is going to OK. They possess a genuineness, and a warmth, and a gentleness of spirit and humor that make them an absolute joy to be around. They find the good in everything, seem to like everyone, and everyone seems to like them. Alan Rupp was one of these extra special people. He is featured in a photographic wall mural at the Louisville airport smiling as he pulls Derby Pie’s from a large oven. The fact that he looks a little bit like Santa Claus only adds to his overall charm. That image is included as the feature image for this story. The inclusion of the word authenticity in all caps in the picture could be used in place of the dictionary definition of the word. Each time I return home for a visit now I see that mural and think of him and I smile and then I am hit with an overwhelming sadness at the realization that he is gone and I will never get to see his smiling face or hear him say “Dan! How ya doin?” in that joyous booming voice each time I saw him in person.

I will never finish that story because I will never see my friend again. It is too painful of a reminder of what I lost and it will remain frozen in time, along with my memories of him. In my mind I like to think of Alan entering through the pearly gates and when he finally catches site of the one he says “God, How ya doin? in that exact same way he always said it to me and God smiles and laughs exactly like I did every single time he said it to me. Goodbye Pie Man. I miss ya buddy.