Every few years, Hong Kong sees a murder so bizarre or gruesome that it captures the public's imagination. Over the past few weeks, we have recoiled in horror as we read the details of the black-magic killer case - yet most of us continued to follow the reports.
The combination of repulsion and curiosity create a compulsive fascination. It is a strange relationship, this flirting with the sheer horror of it all, and one that can only be indulged strictly in moderation. One such murder every three to five years is enough for public consumption. Too much and we would become desensitised.
I noticed this three- to five-year cycle of high-profile murders emerge during the two years I spent writing and researching Hong Kong Murders. The individual crimes were not linked. What seems to maintain the pattern is the public's ability to consume such details. But we can only stomach so much, so often.
The recent case of cannibalism in Germany, in which two men advertised on the internet for someone to torture and eat alive, received light coverage in Hong Kong. It is the macabre murders on our home turf that really make our stomachs churn. The twisted details of a case such as the black-magic killer hold us in its grip: necrophilia in a belief that it will create a blood relationship with the victim; the attempt to create vengeful ghosts.
Superstition and the occult blended with a disturbed mind to create a terrifying crime beyond our comprehension. We think there has never been anything so disturbing, and yet there has. Three years ago, Hong Kong people were reeling from the facts surrounding the Hello Kitty murder. Most probably still remember the gruesome details of the 2001 case - the torture and dismemberment of the victim, with the head stuffed inside a Hello Kitty bag.
These two recent murders are chilling, but they are not the worst Hong Kong has seen. That dubious honour must go to the man dubbed the 'Jars Killer' for the murders he committed in the early 1980s. Despite living with his family, and sharing a tiny bedroom with his younger brother, the Jars Killer, Lam Kor-wan, was a loner. At 24, he had never had a girlfriend, had no friends to speak of, and worked as a taxi driver, preferring the nightshift. When Lam returned home from work at 5am his family were asleep, and when he got up they had already left for work.