Oh, Big Surprise.

Beware of quiet, white men who can't pull off a black leather jacket.

Unless you're his fiance, by now you've determined that Craigslist killer and Boston's finest, Philip Markoff, is guilty.

Sorry, sorry – my mistake. I mean guilty until proven innocent. (In your face, legal maxim!)

After trolling for sex and women to rob on Craigslist, Philip Markoff is accused of killing a prostitute at the Copley Marriott, attempted robbery of another woman at the Westin, and while he has yet to be officially charged, he's allegedly been tied to similar crimes in Providence, Rhode Island. (Welcome to the big time, Providence!)

This is the type of story that makes news directors drool and allows for the kind of headlines that cable news networks love to splash all over the screen: "BREAKING NEWS: CRAIGSLIST KILLER ON THE LOOSE; MAY ALSO TRY TO SELL YOU CRAP FROM IKEA". Needless to say, the Craigslist Killer story went national faster than Susan Boyle shaved her mustache.

In the wake of his arrest, many of Markoff's friends and acquaintances have spoken out about this unassuming, second year med-student, who comes from an average town where his father is a well-liked and successful dentist. People are shocked – shocked – that this kind of upstanding young man could commit such a crime. They've described Markoff as:

"Clean-cut boy."
"He was completely average."
"Dorky."
"Nice, easy-going."
"Smart."
"Pompous."
"High-achieving."
"He carried himself well."
"Like the type who could have it all."
"One of the most polite students."
"That type that you'd like to mother."
"Wouldn't hurt a fly."

Um, hello? Earth to people who will most likely be bludgeoned to death by a murderer: Do you idiots know that you just described the M.O. for every serial killer – ever? If you're keeping one eye open for this guy because he's the meanest psycho on the street, then you're in for a rude awakening. (Why are you clubbing me to death, Mr. Good Looking Normal Guy?)

The one you least suspect is always the lead suspect. Let's take a look back at some of our most notorious and brutal killers:

Is that an ax in your pocket, or you just glad to see me?
What do you mean 'both'?

Say, aren't you on "Taxi"?

Ooh, I could just run my fingers through your completely average hair for hours. Keep my fingers as souvenirs? Oh, you're hilarious!

Climb into your freezer and stay awhile? Well, here I thought I'd heard every pick-up line in the book!

Well sure, I like Versace as much as the next guy, but no, I don't know where he lives or anything.

The exception to the rule. This guy even looks bat-shit crazy.

I do love hummus, yes. Well, no, I'm not a huge fan of Chuck Todd but –

With the exception of Charles Manson – who shares the crazy eyes with Ramoner from Real Housewives NYC (keep an eye out, Jill Zarin!) – serial killers are typically average looking, quiet white guys who you'd never expect would keep your ear as a souvenir after graciously paying for dinner at Babbo. (Legal disclaimer: Mario Batali is not a serial killer, he just looks like one.) The creepiest killers are always your reserved next door neighbor you rarely see, and that's usually because he's busy working in his basement dungeon. (Ears make lovely Christmas tree ornaments!)

So wake up, Philip Markoff supporters. I may be going out on a limb here (are ears limbs?), but anyone who keeps a semi-automatic gun stashed in a hollowed out copy of Gray's Anatomy along with duct tape and plastic restraints, has some serious issues.

You want to "play doctor"? I thought you wanted to sell me your Grevbäck bookcase?