Chilling Night of Terror: The Unthinkable Killing of Dorothy ‘Dotsie’ Blackburn

Jonathan Harker
3 min readJun 8

Dorothy ‘Dotsie’ Blackburn was 27 years old. Mother to a six-month-old baby boy, and two older children. She was a prostitute in a desperate struggle to provide for her children. A sad reality often hidden behind closed doors, Dotsie was forced to hand her infant off to a friend while she took to the streets each night.

Working Girl

On a particularly cold evening, Dotsie was low on funds. Her welfare check wouldn’t be credited for a few more days, and she needed money for crack and beer to numb the harsh realities of her life. Her live-in boyfriend, who was also her black pimp, accompanied her that night. They managed to secure three six-packs of beer on credit and began their routine of drinking, followed by Dotsie hitting the streets to earn money.

That evening, Dotsie, in a nondescript blue Dodge, negotiated the grim terms of her trade — $20 for a blowjob, $30 for a ‘half-and-half.’ A customer who wanted something more unusual offered his proposition, “I want to eat you while you give me a BJ.” A sense of foreboding thickened the air.

Sheer Pain

The encounter started as a typical one, with Dotsie on top. However, the man had difficulty getting an erection, perhaps due to the nature of their rendezvous, his first time with a prostitute. What unfolded next was nothing short of a nightmare. According to his confession, Dorothy bit into his penis causing blood to spurt onto the front seat of the car.

In retaliation and to vent his frustration and a surge of inexplicable rage, he bit into Dotsie’s vagina, causing a horrifying injury. Despite her shock, Dotsie managed to maintain her composure, her face adorned with an unnerving grin.

On the cold, snow-dusted ground outside the car, the man clutched his bloody penis, attempting to stem the gush of blood with a snowball. He was outraged, and with his rage, Dotsie’s fate was sealed. In an act of misplaced retaliation, he bound her arms behind her back with her pants and drove to Northampton Park.


Under the dim light of a small bridge, the man took a moment to examine his injury. He then turned his attention back to…

Jonathan Harker

Hey! My name is Jonathan. I’m a true crime writer and podcast producer.