Killer DiMarco Turned Me Into A Nutjob...Temporarily

CLEVELAND - I have always been considered "weird" by most people's conventional standards and beliefs. Mark DiMarco probably confirmed everyone's suspicions.

He turned me into a bizarre nutjob for a while.

DiMarco was a murderer, abductor and alleged rapist, among other things before he committed suicide in a Youngstown prison. Today marks the 10th anniversary of his death, so I decided that it's a great time to bring up something that was um, sort of creepy that involved him and myself.

DiMarco became infamous in Cleveland lore because of his role in the 1996 murder of North Royalton nurse Mary Jo Pesho. He and Shannon Kidd acosted Pesho at Parmatown Mall on January 2, 1996, kidnapped her, supposedly raped her (although her autopsy seemed to contradict that) and then murdered her. Both young men, 17 at the time were able to avoid arrest for a long while. By the Spring of 1998, they had been sentenced to long prison terms. Kidd was helpful to the prosecution and received a "light" 40 years, which was almost nothing compared to what DiMarco got. The sinister mastermind of the entire crime was given 94 years to life.

For whatever reason, I became fascinated with the case as well as the smug DiMarco himself. Once he took his own life, he seemed like a martyr, if only to me. While the rest of the city detested him, I was busy writing on napkins stupefying things like, "DiMarco for President." I often touted him as being a role model and even lied to people saying that I attended his funeral.

Coincidentally, I just happened to have a friend that knew DiMarco personally. In fact, she was one of several individuals that did a very brief stint in prison for perjury in his case. She allowed me to hear recorded conversations between she and Kidd while he was incarcerated and even read me a letter he sent her. This girl also was friends with DiMarco's girlfriend Jennifer Ray, who was also jailed for perjury.

I felt like I was a part of history!

I went so far as to design a T-shirt with DiMarco's photo on it. I also replicated his suicide note in magic marker and affixed DIMARCO across the top back of the shirt as if it were a sports jersey. I wore the shirt to work under another shirt and when I revealed it, I sparked a lot of glares and hushed whispers. Everyone locally knew of the case and DiMarco well, so I became persona non grata very easily.

Weirdo.

The final straw may have been when my buddy, the girl that was DiMarco's friend surprised me by bringing his girlfriend to my 22nd birthday party. I was giddy with excitement and once they arrived, I asked Ray (his girlfriend) a plethora of questions pertaining to him. When I showed her the controversial shirt, she was flattered and overjoyed that I was such a "fan."

Everyone else wanted to have me committed.

My friend actually brought me a copy of his obituary, but redacted the info detailing the location of his burial. She actually felt that if I knew where he was buried, I might go and try to "dig him up!" I know it sounds crazy, but the way I behaved at the time ... it was a very smart thing to assume.

I even jokingly suggested inviting him (read: his corpse) to my party. One of my other female friends remarked at the time, "if you do that, people will be scared to sit by him." Talk about insanity.

Bottom line, I understood then as I do now the seriousness of DiMarco's transgressions.  I wasn't trying to make light of the horrific things he did, nor did I truly think he was a hero or role model. It was just another example of my sometimes over-the-top idiosyncrasies and all-out bizarre mentality. I believe it to be the remnants of my legendary shock tinged sense of humor.

In any event, I want to officially put the DiMarco debacle to bed. Let the man rest in peace.