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As the grim confessions mounted, the world grappled with two starkly contrasting narratives, each battling for supremacy. On one side, she vehemently claimed that every single killing was an act of desperate self-defense, a harrowing fight for her very survival against men who had allegedly attempted to assault her. “I’m not a man-hater,” she famously declared to the Orlando Sentinel in March 1991, adding a chilling insight into her psyche: “I’ve been through so many traumatic experiences that either I’m walking in shock or I’m so used to being treated like dirt that I guess it’s become a way of life.” Her words painted a picture of a victim, a woman pushed to the absolute edge, reacting to years of systematic abuse and predatory encounters. However, the prosecutors presented a starkly different, far more sinister image: that of a cold, calculating murderer, a remorseless predator who lured men to their deaths, not out of fear, but for their possessions. By the time her sensational case went to trial, the accusations were staggering: she stood accused of ruthlessly taking the lives of seven men in the span of just one horrifying year. The media, hungry for a narrative that captured the public’s imagination, quickly dubbed her “America’s first female serial killer,” a chilling moniker that would forever stain her identity. Her name, rapidly becoming infamous, would be whispered in horror, her story destined to be retold in countless books, documentaries, and even Hollywood films. The spotlight was now blinding, the judgment of millions imminent, but who was this enigmatic, terrifying figure at the heart of such a monstrous saga? What was the ultimate verdict that would seal her horrifying fate?
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