This is Hidden Killers with Tony Bruske. Here now, Tony Bruske.

There's a certain dark comedy in watching Brian Koeberger.

A man who slaughtered four college students in the middle of the night suddenly discovered that prison isn't exactly the academic sabbatical.

He must have pictured it in his head.

After just a single night on J. Block at the Idaho Maximum Security Institution, he was

already scribbling out formal complaints like a wronged employee filling on an HR form. He complained about flooding,

about constant harassment, about the food not being quite up to his standards. He even wrote,

word for word, that he was enduring minute-by-minute verbal threats and harassment and politely requested to be transferred to a different block.

His closing line, I wish to speak with you soon.

Madam?

He didn't say madam.

My dear sir.

Almost as if he was booking office hours.

The irony is staggering.

He's a man who once spent his days theorizing about the psychology of killers,

convinced of his intellectual superiority, and yet within hours of entering

maximum security, he's filing grievances about mush on a tray and mean words through vents.

It's hard not to notice the disconnect.

He thought maybe some kind of case study for criminology professors,

maybe even a pet project for Dr. Ramsland.

Famous, observed, maybe even admired in some twisted way.

Staddy's just another inmate and not even just another inmate, and not even a respected one.

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