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Confessor Cop: The Detective Who Persuaded Killers To Talk
Captain Jonathan Morris, the Confessor Cop, used empathy to extract confessions from even the toughest criminals. With a 99% success rate, his cases, from catching serial killer Jimmy Maketta to investigating the Sizzler’s Massacre, earned him the respect of prosecutors and profilers. In this memoir, Michael Behr explores Morris’s high-profile investigations and personal struggles, revealing the man behind the badge in a gripping blend of true crime and personal story.
224 pages, Kindle Edition
Published August 1, 2025
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September 22, 2025#ConfessorCop – Michael Behr
#Kwela
In a broken system, the person who remains functional, is hailed as a hero. Rightly so, it requires a mammoth effort to overcome both internal and external challenges to get the job done. Captain Jonathan Morris was such a person. He fought personal, institutional and criminal obstacles to gain his well-earned reputation as “Confessor Cop” – an officer who managed to convince perpetrators to confess without coercion of violence, but simply by treating them with respect and empathy.
The concept of this book was birthed in October 2021. At the time Captain Morris was no longer a member of the SAPS. His illustrious career ended abruptly after attending his final crime scene on 16 October 2015. He “...processed the crime scene on autopilot as he had hundreds of times before” but recalls: “…that night I could not sleep…The next morning I said, ek kan nie meer nie, and quit.’ “(149)
Although he was briefly treated for PTSD in November 2014 and spent 3 weeks in a psychiatric clinic, the interviews, mainly via WhatsApp, with the author, threatened to trigger a traumatic relapse, and the project was put on ice for an extended period. Captain Morris then discovered, quite by chance when he was introduced to the convenience of a laptop, the value of narrative therapy and informed the author: “I need to put this on paper for my grandchildren so they can see what their grandfather went through and achieved in his career. “(25)
Part 1 of the memoir is devoted to the narration of the creation thereof, set against the chilling backdrop of the Sizzlers massacre. Captain Morris recalls the horror of blood and death, but bizarrely also the Aaron Neville song stuck on repeat whilst he attended the scene.
Part 2 comprises of a collection of cases that he had dealt with during his career, including the gruesome head-in-a-box murder, the serial murderer Jimmy Maketta, and the high-profile murder of Taliep Petersen. The narrative is evidence of a less than perfect individual that, irrespective of the circumstances, never relinquished his compassion. He freely admits sometimes being tempted to repay violence with violence and disregarding boundaries: “Jonathan was bending the rules meeting Muggles without his lawyer… sometimes justice gets messy” (70) and “He needed a minute to deal with the strong impulse to place his pistol against the kid’s temple and pull the trigger” (86).
Despite these admissions, his humanity was never sacrificed. When facing Trevor Theys, he was astounded that “This man who has murdered so brutally and callously asks if he can hug me” (51), and, driving a condemned man to Pollsmoor, the man asked him to buy him a pie: “As I watched (the man quietly eating his pie), I was overcome by this overwhelming sadness. As I’m typing this, I can still feel that intense sadness after all these years.” (184)
Part 3 offers reflections and the aftermath of a career than was ended prematurely, for various reasons, and reveals the personal demons that Captain Morris had to face. Whilst serving in an increasing antagonistic system that “…was so broken that not even a police murder could fast-track the process” (141), he was also faced with gross incompetence and mismanagement (“Then there were sergeants who had only been with us for five years when they were promoted to captains. Some of them could not take a decent statement from a witness” – 150, and “…during the…eight-month reign of terror not one Philippi detective had checked if crime scene hair and semen samples supported their multiple suspect theory” – 113), he was not indemnified from personal tragedies. His younger brother drowned in a rescue attempt, his estranged father was diagnosed with colon cancer, a brother in arms was murdered in cold blood, and he lost his own son to gang violence.
Despite the tragedies and challenges, Captain Morris boasted a 97% success rate – and a 100% conviction rate in the high court – at the closing of a career that spanned four decades. It is thus both an insult and a travesty of justice that such a man was not even presented with his well-deserved service medals: “He found out that they had been issued but no one could tell him where they were.” (153) and that his farewell consisted of two pens and a braai (149).
Yes, “This is a story about a cop” (13), but it is also a very personal memoir and a narrative of true crime.
#Uitdieperdsebek
#Kwela
In a broken system, the person who remains functional, is hailed as a hero. Rightly so, it requires a mammoth effort to overcome both internal and external challenges to get the job done. Captain Jonathan Morris was such a person. He fought personal, institutional and criminal obstacles to gain his well-earned reputation as “Confessor Cop” – an officer who managed to convince perpetrators to confess without coercion of violence, but simply by treating them with respect and empathy.
The concept of this book was birthed in October 2021. At the time Captain Morris was no longer a member of the SAPS. His illustrious career ended abruptly after attending his final crime scene on 16 October 2015. He “...processed the crime scene on autopilot as he had hundreds of times before” but recalls: “…that night I could not sleep…The next morning I said, ek kan nie meer nie, and quit.’ “(149)
Although he was briefly treated for PTSD in November 2014 and spent 3 weeks in a psychiatric clinic, the interviews, mainly via WhatsApp, with the author, threatened to trigger a traumatic relapse, and the project was put on ice for an extended period. Captain Morris then discovered, quite by chance when he was introduced to the convenience of a laptop, the value of narrative therapy and informed the author: “I need to put this on paper for my grandchildren so they can see what their grandfather went through and achieved in his career. “(25)
Part 1 of the memoir is devoted to the narration of the creation thereof, set against the chilling backdrop of the Sizzlers massacre. Captain Morris recalls the horror of blood and death, but bizarrely also the Aaron Neville song stuck on repeat whilst he attended the scene.
Part 2 comprises of a collection of cases that he had dealt with during his career, including the gruesome head-in-a-box murder, the serial murderer Jimmy Maketta, and the high-profile murder of Taliep Petersen. The narrative is evidence of a less than perfect individual that, irrespective of the circumstances, never relinquished his compassion. He freely admits sometimes being tempted to repay violence with violence and disregarding boundaries: “Jonathan was bending the rules meeting Muggles without his lawyer… sometimes justice gets messy” (70) and “He needed a minute to deal with the strong impulse to place his pistol against the kid’s temple and pull the trigger” (86).
Despite these admissions, his humanity was never sacrificed. When facing Trevor Theys, he was astounded that “This man who has murdered so brutally and callously asks if he can hug me” (51), and, driving a condemned man to Pollsmoor, the man asked him to buy him a pie: “As I watched (the man quietly eating his pie), I was overcome by this overwhelming sadness. As I’m typing this, I can still feel that intense sadness after all these years.” (184)
Part 3 offers reflections and the aftermath of a career than was ended prematurely, for various reasons, and reveals the personal demons that Captain Morris had to face. Whilst serving in an increasing antagonistic system that “…was so broken that not even a police murder could fast-track the process” (141), he was also faced with gross incompetence and mismanagement (“Then there were sergeants who had only been with us for five years when they were promoted to captains. Some of them could not take a decent statement from a witness” – 150, and “…during the…eight-month reign of terror not one Philippi detective had checked if crime scene hair and semen samples supported their multiple suspect theory” – 113), he was not indemnified from personal tragedies. His younger brother drowned in a rescue attempt, his estranged father was diagnosed with colon cancer, a brother in arms was murdered in cold blood, and he lost his own son to gang violence.
Despite the tragedies and challenges, Captain Morris boasted a 97% success rate – and a 100% conviction rate in the high court – at the closing of a career that spanned four decades. It is thus both an insult and a travesty of justice that such a man was not even presented with his well-deserved service medals: “He found out that they had been issued but no one could tell him where they were.” (153) and that his farewell consisted of two pens and a braai (149).
Yes, “This is a story about a cop” (13), but it is also a very personal memoir and a narrative of true crime.
#Uitdieperdsebek
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