The kidnapping and rape of Kristen French by Paul Bernardo and Karla Homolka :
WARNING: DISTURBING CONTENT
When the young, attractive blond woman in the shiny sports car called out to Kristen French for directions, Kristen did not think twice. Kristen blithely walked the fifty yards to where the car had pulled up in the Grace Lutheran Church parking lot. The woman opened her door and stepped out, Her hair was held back in a ponytail. She had a map in her hand.
Before Kristen could study the map, the guy who had been sitting in the driver’s seat was behind her with a knife and the girl had jumped into the backseat. Although Kristen tried to put up a fight, the man was to strong, and once he had pushed her into the backseat, the woman grabbed her long hair and pulled hard. She was unable to move and they slammed the doors shut.
When she cried out the man told her to shut up or he’d slit her throat. After they pulled into a garage, the man put a blindfold over Kristen’s eyes.
Karla and Paul now had Kristen in the garage of their nice little Port Dalhousie home. Karla ran upstairs and disconnected all the phones.
It was just after 3 in the afternoon when Paul guided Kristen into the upstairs washroom across the hall from the master bedroom. The blindfold swaddled her forehead like a big wide bandage. He had tied it at the base of her neck, allowing her long dark curls to flow freely. Paul focused the lens of his video camera on her thighs while Kristen urinated. When she asked for toilet paper, he handed her a role and she politely thanked him.
Finding her maroon bikini briefs, Kristen hastily pulled up the beige elastic top and began tugging on her green leotards straightening them above her knees and pulling them up, along with the navy and white Georgetown boxer shorts. Paul noted they were covered with fierce cartoon bulldogs. He liked that. As Paul peered through the viewfinder, a red mark blossoming on Kristen’s lower lip was evident, a memento of her belligerent struggle with him.
Later, Kristen sat on the gray carpet in the master bedroom drinking the orange juice that they had given her.
“Tell my dick you love him,” Paul whispered, kneeling beside her and putting her hands on the erect penis which he had released from his blue jeans.
The camera was unmoving, sitting on chair across the room, as she cried and fumbled with his genitals. Ice T’s ‘Original Gangsta’ blared on the boom box. Every other word sounded like ‘bitch’ or ‘nigger.’
“Tell me you want me to be happy. So maybe you can go home later.”
“I want you to be happy,” Kristen said, but Paul shook his head.
“You suck good cock-you sure you never done this before?” Kristen shook her head.
Cradling her chin, Paul instructed her to remove her clothes. “Please,” Kristen cried, but he made her take off her underwear as well. He picked up the camera and zoomed for a close up, telling her to “Spread your cunt for me. Do it with your fingers.” When he zoomed back to take a shot of her face, it was etched with distress.
Kristen vomited so badly her blindfold came off. Paul called Karla and she cleaned up. They took off her clothes and there was blood on her turtleneck. Paul had accidentally cut her neck in the sruggle in the car. Karla dabbed it with peroxide and put a bandage on it.
Karla served chicken for dinner, and Kristen talked about her boyfriend Elton Wade and her dog Sasha. Kristen picked at her dinner. There was no more blindfold.
After, Paul entered Kristen roughly from behind while Karla focused furiously with the camera, even when Kristen cried out in pain.
“Shut up,” Paul told her, positioning himself and grabbing a handful of long brown curls while LL Cool J intoned, come on fool.
Then Paul raised both of his hands and pounded his fists into her back with tune of the music. He told Kristen to lower her hips and arch her back.
“Smile,” called Karla as Paul bent over Kristen, turning her face to the camera.
Over the next few minutes, Kristen told Paul she loved him 26 times. Each tortured phrasing was different. I’m bad, rapped LL Cool J.
Paul and Karla gave Kristen sleeping pills that night so she would not cause a fuss or try to escape.
The next morning, Kristen bathed in the Jacuzzi.
Karla and Kristen dressed up as schoolgirls afterwards. The two stood in the bathroom, and Paul said “do that stuff girls do.”
On the counter, bottles of perfume and make up were laid out. Kristen’s freshly permed curls billowed around her shoulders as she swept Karla’s powder brush over her face.
Karla droned on about various perfumes, and Kristen played along. Paul asked them to lift their skirts up at the same time and give him a nice “ass shot.”
Through his lens, Paul saw there was no comparison. Karla wore white underpants that bunched unattractively between her cheeks.
At dinner, Paul went out to get McDonald’s pizza. They tied Kristen up, because she was bigger and stronger than Karla. There was 6 o clock news report on Kristen’s kidnapping.
Paul rented Karla’s favourite movie, Criminal Law, with Kevin Bacon and Gary Oldman, and Angel Heart, a dark thriller about voodoo and ritual sacrifice starring Mickey Rourke. When Paul came back he was angry that Karla had let Kristen see the news report, which had Kristen’s dad pleading for his daughter’s safe return. Kristen was crying and had thrown up.
That night Karla and Kristen knelt together on the bed dressed in schoolgirl costumes. “Dont be nervous, it’s okay,” said Karla.
“Am I shaking?” asked Kristen.
“No just, try to feel at home,” Karla said in a friendly tone.
As she lay back on the bed, Kristen pulled a knot from her long hair. The fan whirred above her. “If I close my eyes, I’ll fall asleep.”
“Trust me, you won’t,” said Karla, telling Kristen she was a pretty girl.
“You’re pretty too.” said Kristen, saying that when she first saw them her first thought was “Holy cow, she is pretty!”
Karla knelt between Kristen’s legs and began giving her head. Kristen said Karla must be an expert at this, but Karla said “trust me, I’m not.”
Paul wanted Kristen to give Karla a hand job, and so Kristen put her fingers into Karla. “Are my nails hurting you?,” inquired Kristen. Karla said “no, it feels real good.”
Kristen’s face was half buried between Karla’s legs when Paul asked her to smile. Kristen put on the biggest grin she could manage and said, “I love Karla.”
“I like little girls,” said Karla.
“Thank you,” replied Kristen.
“I love you Christian,” said Karla, getting her name wrong.
Paul later punished Kristen later for not giving him head properly. He started having anal sex with Kristen on the floor. She defecated on him and called him a bastard. He made her sit in the jacuzzi and urinated on her. He slapped her face with his semi erect penis.
“Don’t make me mad. Don’t make me hurt you,” he said. “You’re a fucking piece of shit. But I like you. You look good covered in piss.”
The fellating of Paul Bernardo left Kristen gasping for air. Once, when she raised herself to her knees to speak at his request, Karla thought she saw him holding a flashlight behind his back. In fact, he was clutching a knife in his left hand.
“All the Holy Cross girls want you,” Kristen told him.
Thirty seconds later, Paul was holding Kristen’s mouth to his penis while he ejaculated. He told her to “keep it inside.” Kristen remained motionless.
The next day, Paul turned on the video camera just as Ice T’s Power boomed over the stereo. Karla smiled as she put the neck of a wine bottle up Kristen’s vagina to the rhythm of the music.
“Put it in there hard, Kar. Ram her hard. She called me a bastard.” Kristen was handcuffed with her hands behind her back, kneeling on the ground, still dressed as a schoolgirl.
Kristen winced as Karla brought the bottle in and out more than forty times. “Forgive me, please, I’m very sorry,” she begged.
“Nasty bitch,” Paul said, entering Kristen’s vagina. “Who am I? Who wants me?”
“Pardon me?” Kristen asked. She started on her scripted lines about him being the “master,” him deserving “better,” deserving to “fuck every girl” in her school.
When he entered her anally, Kristen screamed out in pain. She buried her head in the ground, warning him she was going to defecate. She apologized 8 times, but he continued to grind into her buttocks. “Fuck you,” said Paul. “Lick my ass, bitch,” he instructed Karla, and she did.
Kristen said the lines she had been ordered to say: “You have a very beautiful wife. And you really stick together. All the girls at my school want to fuck you because you’re the most powerful and sexiest man in the world.”
She told him she deserved to be punished and he was “the king of kings.” When he achieved orgasm, he sat back on his haunches. “You happy?” asked Kristen. “That’s what matters, as long as you’re happy. You and your wife.”
Paul pulled back and slapped her buttocks lightly. He slumped against a wall and ordered Karla to go get him Kleenex. “What are you, a fucking idiot? Bring the whole box,” Paul grumbled to Karla.
“I don’t know how your wife can stand being around you, cause….” Kristen began.
“Just shut up, okay,” Paul said.
Karla switched off the camera. This was the last rape video Paul and Karla made of Kristen. Awhile later, Paul strangled Kristen to death with the same cord he used on Leslie Mahaffy.
Paul leaned into Kristen’s ear, asking her “What do you know about death?” He strangled Kristen before she could answer. One of Kristen’s last words were, “Some things are worth dying for.”
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