So Cold Blooded
by Newman Kaputnick 

Virgil Knotts was born at thirteen years old in Orange Valley, Montana. Being born so old, he was noticeably bigger than the other boys, and always felt like an outcast. Friends and classmates would describe Knotts as a “quiet boy, a loner who kept to himself a lot.” Knotts would then sneak up on the classmates and kick the crap out of them for talking about him.

Knotts’ predilection for sudden, unyielding violence and his fondness for comic books made him a natural companion for Ornery Wilpott. Wilpott was the son of a military family, a battalion of 24 men who mistakenly adopted the child when they accidentally filled out the wrong papers to return a gift. Wilpott moved around quite a bit growing up and never made many friends until reaching Orange Valley. Knotts and Wilpott formed an immediate bond when they unintentionally tied their shoelaces together and couldn’t get them apart again. The boys found they shared a love for murder, and German coffee cake. It was in those formative years their partnership formed.

Their first victim was Mary Ann “Carrot-Top” Cooper, a striking brunette cashier at a local burlesque house. Cooper had stayed late on June 5, 1963, taking inventory on the tassles, and was abducted from the parking lot out back by Knotts and Wilpott. The two men reportedly tortured her for hours, then murdered the young girl, then tortured her for another two hours. Her body was dumped in a nearby quarry, then recovered by Knotts and tortured for another thirty-five minutes before being thrown into a dumpster behind a deli. Cooper was only their first victim.

The next victims of Knotts and Wilpott were Candy and Sandy Melton, two Siamese twins who had recently been separated. Though the two girls weren’t murdered, they were tied up, tortured, and verbally abused for hours on end, and neither quite recovered. Wilpott then reattached the two girls, putting each on the opposite side they had originally been on. “He just wanted to see if he could do it,” Sandy later told police through a flood of tears.

Their next victim was not so lucky. Florence Lobidia, a secretary, mother of two, and local prizefighter, was taken from behind the bank during a brief solar eclipse. Lobidia was tied to a bed and tortured by the two killers for hours. Then, on a lark, Wilpott was tied to the bed and tortured by Knotts and Lobidia for hours. The 34-year-old woman was beaten and killed in an escape attempt, when Wilpott managed to untie himself and tried to make a getaway. Her body was dumped into the river and fined by a local park ranger.

By now the federal authorities began to notice. The FBI lent assistance to local law enforcement, and together they formed a coalition to name the two murderers. Despite support within the group, the name “the Orange Valley Pricks” never caught on with the press, who preferred to dub Knotts and Wilpott, “the Ott Couple.”

According to Pete Fredrickson, a nosey shit who involved himself in the investigation early on, everyone knew after Mary Ann Cooper’s disappearance who was responsible.

“They weren’t right, those two,” said Fredrickson, then turning quickly to make sure Knotts wasn’t waiting to pound him. “Everyone knew it. You could see those two coming and knew they’d be trouble. So when somebody said Mary Ann Cooper turned up dead, you just knew it was them who done it. And then the police say why didn’t you tell us sooner then, Mr. Know-it-All? And you just get real quiet. Real quiet.”

For more of this great story, buy Newman Kaputnick’s non-fiction account,
So Cold Blooded The Shoeshine Exemption
You had two kinds of people in the joint: The guys who took what life dealt them and the ones who didn’t. I was one of those guys who took what life dealt them. It was a pair of eights, a five, a four, and a two. Almost like it could be a decent hand, but not quite, enh, you know? I’m not complaining.

Study Hall Hood: A Hatty Pearst, Teen Detective Mystery
Hatty was nervous as could be. Her heart raced, and beat her liver by ten seconds in a photo finish. She tried to hold her breath as she heard the loud footsteps approaching.

Freak Outs and Head Trips in Atlantic City
Intelligent beasts don’t go to Atlantic City of their own free will. Neither did I, and would never have set foot in the rectum of America had I not been on assignment for Boner magazine to cover the first of its kind Monty Python Fan Base Convention.

Harvey Potluck and the Sophomore Slump
It was peculiar to think he had nearly not made it at all. A mysterious spell and night of binge drinking of hard liquor had caused him to miss his cab ride back to the Academy. The shame of it all!