Dr. Creepen's Dungeon - S5 Ep281: Episode 281: Serial Killers

Episode Date: October 6, 2025

Tonight’s opening gripping tale of terror is all five episodes of the epic ‘My Ex-Husband just Escaped from a Maximum-Security Prison Series’, a wonderful original work by Luke Hemingway, kindly shared with me for the express purpose of having me narrate it here for you all.  https://twitter.com/LukeHemingway11 https://www.reddit.com/user/Pristine-Engine4388/ Tonight’s terrifying closing tale of horror is all three episodes of the epic ‘The White Van Man Series’, a wonderful original work by Luke Hemingway, kindly shared with me for the express purpose of having me narrate it here for you all.  https://twitter.com/LukeHemingway11 https://www.reddit.com/user/Pristine-Engine4388/

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Welcome to Dr. Creepin's Dungeon. We're drawn to stories about serial killers and the special agents who pursue them because they offer a dark window into the extremes of human behavior, both evil and justice. These tales tap into our fascination with the forbidden, letting us explore the minds of killers from a safe distance while rooting for the brilliance and determination of the investigators. The cat and mouse tension, psychological complexity,

and moral ambiguity keep us hooked. offering both fear and catharsis as order fights to overcome chaos, as we shall see in tonight's feature-length classic. Now, as ever before we begin, a word of caution. Tonight's tale may contain strong language as well as descriptions of violence and horrific imagery. That sounds like your kind of thing. Then let's begin. My ex-husband just escaped from a maximum security prison.

I helped the FBI prove he was a serial killer. I was dead, vacantly, wide-eyed at a... nothing in particular. My ears rang, the only sound penetrating my fugue state was the sound of my thumping harp or sating the blood around my trembling body. The droning monotones of the Federal Agent's voices droned in my head, like someone was screaming at me as I sank below the skin of a pool of water. Amy, are you okay? Do you need me to call an ambulance? Special Agent Rodriguez asked, concerned. I turned to him, trying to tune back in. into the land of the living. I just managed to shape my head in disagreement. No, I just need a

minute, I murmured. I know this is a lot to take in, but I need you to give me the green light to get you and your children under federal witness protection. Agent Quince and Agent Borkins here will take you, Ashley and Sadie, to a safe house until we have him under arrest and back in prison where he belongs. The agent's tone was sincere. How did he escape? I thought he was in a maximum security. You told me he was in Florence. You told me he'd never see the light of day again. You told me this nightmare was over.

I began to lose it, going off on a tangent. Special Agent Rodriguez held his palms up to me, as if apologizing for his promise coming back to haunt him, but also to try and get me to calm down. The agent poised himself. And around 2 a.m. this morning, your ex-husband, Robert Cassidy, to two Florence prison guards, viciously assaulted a nurse and stole their uniforms and key passes

in the process. It seems that Cassidy had collected various items over a period of time, such as Vinny, baking soda, and a couple of man-made shoes. He also did his homework. He learned the guard schedules, the prison's protocols and procedures, and so on. He even waited until the fewest and least experienced guards were on duty that night. Everything was planned to the letter. Around 1 a.m., Cassidy faked a seizure using the vinegar and soda mixture. There's a young garden, duty, who, once seeing a prisoner spasming on the floor, fuming from the mouth, simply opened his cell and ran in to apply first aid. I don't know whether it was greenness, portraying, or just the panic of the situation,

but the kid didn't raise the medical alarm or call for assistance first. And Cassidy anticipated this. The staff found the guard, under the bed sheet, create the appearance of someone sleeping. He was wearing Cassidy's prison attire. It was found to have a shiv wound to his abdomen. His neck was badly broken. Once he had his disguise, he made his way off the wing using the key passes.

Once he was getting towards the staff and visitors area of the prison, Cassidy waited in the staff bathroom. Here he ambushed another guard. Cassidy threatened him with his shiv, ordering him to put out a message that an inmate had escaped from a wing on the opposite side of the prison. The staff member agreed to comply, but once he sent out the message, Cassidy killed him. I'm not sure if Cassidy had a grudge against this man, or he was just in a killing frenzy from being locked off for 30 months, but they found that guard in one of the cubicles with 27 stab wounds to his neck and face.

His left ear and right cheek were bitten off and his skull was badly fractured. It was a mess by all accounts. Anyway, the false announcement did what Cassidy wanted it to do. With all the commotion happening, the main body of the guards were concentrated towards the opposite side of the prison. While this was happening, Cassidy defrauded his way into the staff medical room of the prison, using his now-acquired blood-soaked uniform as a way of conning the nurse to let him inside for medical care. She told us in a statement that Cassidy claimed the escaped prisoners had stabbed him, and he needed urgent medical assistance.

Well, the nurse obviously didn't recognize him. I mean, why would she? She said, once inside, he assaulted her. He didn't kill her, obviously, but staff found her savagely beaten, bound and gagged with tape, locked in the utility cupboard. Cassidy stole her car keys, ID pass, and her nurse's uniform. He smashed the fire alarm glass and used her uniform and passed to make his way out of the prison with the staff, who were evacuating to a place of safety.

We found the nurse's car earlier this evening. It was wrecked in a ditch on Route 85, so he's been in the wild for 20 hours now. could literally be anywhere but there's a huge possibility he could be coming for you or the girls I sighed heavily in disbelief you told me if I helped you it would be over

now you're telling me me and the girls have to go on the run because the animal has managed to escape the most secure prison in the United States the agent sighed in defeat yes I know Amy Texas has the death penalty so we thought he'd have the needle by now

But that crafty bastard hit over ten girls' bodies, traded the locations to the DA for life in prison. He was locked up in Florence for two and a half years until last night. He's been planning his escape ever since we had him locked up. Now he's out. He's out for blood. So I need to know. Where is Ashley right now? She's at university in Denver.

She's in Colorado? The agent looked horrified. He pulled his radio from his belt and began organizing his agents outside, ordering them to get a convoy prepared to head to Denver, ASAP. I jumped up. Please, let me go with you. If Robert is still in Colorado, then Ashley's in danger. So please send Sadie with your team and get her out of San Antonio. Get her somewhere safe.

And then, when I have Ashley back with me, safe in my arms, then we can meet up with Sadie at the safe house until this is over. I begged the agent. Honestly, Amy, I don't think it's wise. I think you should stay with our agents and... No, I'm not going to sit in some safe house, surrounded by armed federal agents, while my baby girl is out there, unprotected, unaware of her psychopath of her stepfather's on the loose. Take Sadie. Your team can keep her safe while me and you go and get Ashley.

I bartered. Amy, I really don't think. The agent began to deny me before I cut him off again. Look, I did what I did for you. Now you're going to do this for me, I demanded, and my position was final. The agent nodded in defeat. Okay, he breathed. Is there any chance Cassidy could know where Ashley is now?

I thought hard, but eventually shook my head with confidence. No, Ashley left for college one year after Robert Sessions. sentence. There's no way you should know. Good, then let's get going, the agent said, a touch of haste to his exit. I left my house, and with it, my youngest daughter in the arms of eight highly trained federal agents. Sadie, being only five years old, was young enough for me to have her believe that she was Ashley's full sister. I'd always told her that her father was the same as her older sisters.

My first husband wasn't perfect, but at least he wasn't a murdering psychopath. However, nevertheless, if Robert was going to be coming for anyone, it would be her. As I tried to call Ashley's mobile, unsuccessfully, by the way, I laughed at the irony of the fact that when I'm with Ashley, she's constantly on her device, yet when I need to give her some urgent news, she's conveniently unavailable. However, I couldn't help but reminisce about my life up until this point. I met Robert Cassidy when I was 35. I'd recently just got divorced from my first husband, Ashley's father, Jeff Benny.

Jeff was always a bit of a control freak. He was very old-fashioned, expecting me to cook, clean and keep my mouth shut when he was watching the game. As our relationship soured over the years, he'd given me the odd smack around, picked at my ageing and sagging body as well as gotten drunk and slept with other women behind my back. We divorced six years ago, after I finally got up the courage and strength to walk away from him. Ashley was only 11 years old when me and Jeff went our separate ways. He tried to manipulate her into going with him. Ashley was very much a daddy's girl.

It was quite successful in turning her against me. Thankfully, I was able to obtain proof of his violent drunk behavior, as well as evidence of his invidality. I took him for full custody of our child and half of his financials during the proceedings. I used that money to get away from Phoenix and set up a new life in San Antonio. After a few months of sulking and feeling sorry for myself and my new single life, I decided it was time to get my glad rags on and get back on the dating scene. I'd seen her post to advertising a single speed dating evening at the local bar. I thought, what the hell to it, and that night I got dressed up, put makeup on,

for the first time in three years, and made myself presentable for the Bachelors of South Texas. I sat in that bar, nursing a lukewarm bottle of Coors lights, all the while listening to every 40-year-old version talk about their comic book collection, every mama's boy spending more time on the phone telling me how there's room in his mother's basement for us both, every self-obsessed attention seeker who only wants to talk about themselves, and the painfully obvious lies about their lives. But it didn't matter, because when I did manage to come across a man who actually bordered on normal, no matter how interested they seemed, once I had told them about how I was a single mother with a preteen, I'd lost them. I was about to give up on the night, when all of a sudden,

my final speed date of the evening dropped himself in the seat opposite me. He was the most gorgeous thing I'd ever seen. His face was perfectly formed, his square jawline, which was square jawline, which was cleanly shaven, yet took nothing away from his masculine appearance. His jet black hair was gelled in traditional 1960s, slick back hairstyle. He had a highly athletic build. I imagined he was a swimmer or a boxer in his spare time. He wore his muscle-fitted black shirt as well as he wore his aura of self-assurance. His musky scent had my knees trembling. I didn't stand a chance. Well, I guess the saying is true. If something seems too good, to be true, then it probably is. I sometimes chuckle at how true that statement applied to Robert

Cassidy. Well, our relationship blossomed almost immediately. It was everything I needed at that point in my life. He was kind, charming and passionate. He told me I was beautiful and sexy. He told me my ex-husband was a moron for not appreciating what he had. He made me feel like I was 19 again. I don't know whether it was the fact I was vulnerable, naive. stupid or a combination of all three, but he was living with me and Ashley within a matter of weeks. He gave me some sob story about we'd just moved to San Antonio after his own messy divorce. His ex-wife had taken him for everything, so he didn't have a fixed address and was between motels. Robert was extremely vague about his past and his previous marriage.

I never questioned it. I was simply too giddy with that handsome and charming man of how he wanted me. within six months I fell pregnant to him with Sadie and this was when the alarm bells began to ring he refused to undertake in anything that involved his background being examined or his picture being taken for social media I told myself he was just looking for a fresh start and I could understand that

however as I lay at home getting bigger and bigger was Robert tending to my every needs was he telling me that no matter how much my body was changing, he would always love me? No, and no. In fact, his time spent with me became very sparing. When I was about seven months pregnant with Sadie, Robert claimed he was going to finally get a job in order to help with a financial strain that the baby would put on us. I used my divorce settlement to buy him a car so we could take up couriering work. I thought he was finally trying to pitch in after me supporting him for the past year. However, this was just another one of his life.

He'd be gone for days, even weeks at a time. He'd come back after such periods of time with a bit of money in his pocket and a smile on his face. All the money rarely found my hand or one of our bills. He'd invest in new clothes, fresh jewelry or something else that he refused to disclose. He got to a point in our relationship where asking too many questions made Robert's superficial mask of charm and sanity slip. Just for a split second, he showed me the monster that lay underneath. when he didn't attend the birth of Sadie because he was too busy on another work trip in Kansas. I knew that this was going to be the pattern of our relationship from now on.

Unexplained absences, missing backstory, brief displays of vile hate and anger at being dared to be questioned by a pathetic little bitch such as myself. It wasn't all bad, though. Robert gave me the odd glimpse of the early days, just enough so I wouldn't think this horrible version of him wasn't permanent. In retrospect, it was just his way of keeping me around. Plus, when Jeff eventually moved to Texas, mainly to keep tabs on me and the girls, he'd come around, mainly demanding to see Ashley, and he'd regularly speak to me in a derogatory manner, at which point Robert would step in. He could crush Jeff like an ant with a simple icy glare.

Jeff would never say it out loud, but Robert scared the hell out of him. And I'm not ashamed to say I got some pleasure out of that at the time. But it did make one thing abundantly clear. Jeff, despite being a bully, an abuser, a full-on asshole, even he could see that Robert Cassidy was pure evil. Agent Rodriguez and I climbed into a blacked-out SUV, along with two other agents and took off towards Denver. I sat in the back of the vehicle,

desperately trying to contact Ashley. They assumed she must have left her phone in her dorm room while her college buddies went to a bar. I'd hope that that was a case, anyway, but to be perfectly honest, she rarely had time for me. As the car tore towards the New Mexico border, Agent Rodriguez's phone began to shine to life. The agent answered, putting the call on speaker. The voice was that of a detective from the Dallas Police Department.

Agent Rodriguez, his detective Dan Herepworth here, Dallas PD. I think you'll have dealt with one of my colleagues, Detective Earnshaw. Yeah, that's right. where is he? The agent asked, slightly confused. Oh, he's been reassigned, so I've taken over his case law. You asked me to send an officer to Jeff Benning's home. In order to keep a check on him?

The detective explained with fluency. Yes, I did. If you managed to get someone out there, the agent asked. Yes, I did. I'm sorry, agent, but he's dead, the detective said bluntly. The agent winced. What happened? he asked, sounding tentative, a little on edge about the potential response. Well, I don't know how to say this well, but the officer I sent just radioed in.

He said he thought he saw someone lurking around the back of the property on his arrival, so he went to investigate. He found the back door ajar, and inside he found Mr. Benning dead. The detective sounded empty. I, meanwhile, crumbled. Well, I hated Jeff for what he'd become, how he treated me, and the things he did and what he said to me. But there was a time when I'd loved him.

We were married, we had a child together. I brought Robert Cassidy into our lives. I was to blame. Agent, you should know. Benning showed signs of extreme torture. There's a lot of damage here. Benning clearly didn't give him what he wanted straight away. He obviously wanted information and now he's got it.

Fair play to the guy. Betting put up a good fight. His car's gone too. He's got what he wanted. Information and a vehicle. He's on the move. Oh, shit. Special Agent Rodriguez punched the steering wheel in anger

before exhaling his stress. Okay, thanks, Detective. Keep me updated. Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, agent. Please, are the end of the end? other people that need protect him from this animal. I'd be happy to send an office or two out to help. He told him where Ashley is. I chipped him, looking Agent Rodriguez square in the eye via the rearview mirror. The agent's eyes widened, oh so slightly, and he stomped the gas pedal hard

as he bowed orders down the phone. Yes, Detective, I'm currently en route to Denver to retrieve Ashley Benning. We believe that's where Robert Cassidy is heading. I'll be redirecting a lot of my team from the safehouse guarding Sadie Benning in order to apprehend him. Me and Mrs. Edmonds would feel a lot better if you could send an officer or two to assist the two agents of the safe house. Absolutely, special agent Rodriguez. Send me the safe house location and I'll get someone right over. Detective Hepworth sounded like a man with all the enthusiasm you want to hear from a police

officer. He really wanted to help. Sending it now, Detective Owen, Dan. sent your best. Robert Cassidy is one of the most dangerous men on the planet. He's ruthless, vicious, but most of all he's highly intelligent. He canned his way out of the most secure prison in the United States, with some vinegar and a prison uniform.

I sure will, Agent. Good luck in Denver. The detective offered his best wishes before hanging out the phone. Agent Rodriguez three-diled another number as I began to notice we were turning around. A voice answered. Yeah, this is special agent Rodriguez. Robert Cassidy has been cited in Dallas, Texas. He's murdered Ashley Benning's father, Jeff. Tortured him before he killed him.

Most likely for Ashley's location. He's taken a car so we believe he's heading for Denver. I need you to send five agents to meet me at San Antonio International Airport. I have a helicopter arranged. Well, he won't risk flying. We can get there hours before him and we'll be ready for. him. You and Barkin stay with Sadie. I've got a few Dallas PD officers coming to assist you soon. Call me if anything comes up. The agent hung up the phone and sighed with relief. It obviously

felt good to finally have a pin down on Robert's movements and have his response planned accordingly. I stared out of the window, wondering how on earth my life would come to this. Part two. It seemed like only yesterday that I first began to realize just who, Robert's Robert Cassidy was. Around two years into our relationship, not long after Sadie's first birthday actually, Robert continued to be absent for periods of time, usually claiming he was on work trips' couriery. He'd miss key events like anniversaries, birthdays, Thanksgiving, Christmas, you name it.

At first I thought he was cheating on me. I mean, why wouldn't he? Jeff did, and Robert was the most gorgeous man that I'd ever met. When he returned from one of his trips, I waited until he'd left the house. I began going through his things, expecting to find some used condoms, hairs from another woman, shirts smelling of perfume. Well, you get the point.

I never found anything, though. However, what I did find was puzzling. His clothes were clean, unscented, unmarked. It was like they were new. But eventually, that's when I realized, it's because they were. On this particular occasion of me inspecting the suitcase, I noticed that Robert had forgotten to remove the price tag off of one of the shirts.

So I went digging, in his pockets, in his coats, and then in the car. That's where I found something finally. It was a receipt for a clothing store in Birmingham, Alabama. Robert had purchased around five shirts and three pairs of pants, the precise amount of clothes that he'd left with. I gently confronted him about the receipts, telling him that I innocently found it whilst cleaning the car. He didn't rattle.

He began to smoothly explain that he'd simply had a bad nosebeat and that it had ruined his clothes. I would have accepted this explanation, but one thing played on my mind, so I counted and asked him why he needed to replace every shirt. And that's when the mast slipped for the first time. Robert's surface of suave, charm and charisma cracked before my very eyes. His brows lowered, his smile dropped, and his pupils dilated. Have you been looking through my things, Amy? His menacing tone paralyzed me.

He started to advance on me, backing me right up against the bedroom wall. His eyes bored holes into my soul. He grabbed my wrist and squeezed hearts. It began to hurt as the blood started to cut off from my hand and began to throb. It was as if you were trying to detect any lies by feeling my pulse. Well, I quivered. No, I'm sorry, Rav. Robert, I'm sorry, I wasn't snooping, I promise. Please, you're hurting me. I begged him to stop.

I could see by Robert's face that he enjoyed my fear. It pleased him. It excited him. No, you were questioning me. You were calling me a liar. There was a venom behind his restraint. No, I promise, I wasn't. I was just trying to do something nice. I tidy the car for you. Put your things away. I was just being a good wife. Please stop. He eventually let go. I dropped to my knees and cradle my swollen hand. I looked up at Robert as he stood over me looking down at his pathetic wife. I waited for him to strike me as I coward, but instead his menacing, emotionless glare transformed back to the superficial, charming smile that my friends and family had come to know and love. I appreciate the gesture

There was no need my love In fact I have another bit of work You see all the way in Atlanta So I'm gonna head out Maybe hit the casino Meanwhile You're gonna put all those clothes back in that case And have it packed and ready for when I get back

Understand I nodded Tears bursting through my clenched eyelids Robert's fake smile Made my blood run cold as I imagined the monster underneath. Then, just like that, he was gone, leaving me wondering who or what Robert Cassidy really was.

I began to search online for people who appeared to be friendly and charming on the surface, but underneath they seemed not all there. The recurring word that kept coming up was psychopath. I thought psychopaths were crazy people who were locked up in mental hospitals and head-budded walls. it turns out there's something far more sinister. They are wolves dressed as sheep. I read an article written by Dr. Hare at the University of British Columbia,

in which he talked about a test or a checklist he'd developed in order to identify if someone was a psychopath or had psychopathic tendencies. I went down the list and assessed Robert's behaviour. Supervisual charm. Check. Inflated sense of self-worth. Jack

Pathological Lies Check When I told him to get a job That didn't involve so much travelling He'd say that I was controlling him Making him give up a job that made him happy He made me feel like I was the controlling burden Manipulative behaviour

Check On one of the rare occasions that Robert was home Which were very rare indeed I might add Well the one incident that really sticks in my mum mind was when we were sat in the living room watching a news report about a couple who were attempting to raise money for a terminally ill child in order to give him a trip to Disneyland. I felt heartbroken watching this mother just wanting enough money to take a dying baby boy on one last family vacation before she lost him forever. Robert sat watching these people totally emotionless.

The only time he spoke was when he accused the couple of faking, crying on TV, simply because they wanted a free holiday. He then added it was pointless giving money to someone who'd be dead soon. Well, his lack of compassion chilled me. The fact I'd just given birth to this man's child, he had a baby just like these people, and yet he didn't see the point of giving just a few dollars to a couple of complete strangers, so they could give their little boy one last shred of happiness before he passes. Lack of empathy, check. Robert Cassidy My husband

Was a psychopath Well I read that psychopaths make up about 1% of the population Interestingly most of them actually live normal lives Don't get me wrong they're pretty much assholes Thieves con men womanisers But most of them aren't violent They never physically hurt anyone At this point I honestly convinced myself

That Robert was in that category That was and until two weeks later, when the news report aired covering the brutal rape and murder of Violet Walsh. Violet Walsh was a 20-year-old student who went missing in Montgomery, Alabama. Her mutilated body was found three days after her disappearance in Oak Mountain State Park, just outside Birmingham. She was last seen leaving her college dorm around 9 p.m. She told her roommate that she was going to see her boyfriend and informed her that she'd be back in the morning.

Violet never returned home that morning. causing her roommate to become concerned. When questioned, the boyfriend claimed she'd never arrived that evening, and he just assumed she'd blown him off for the night. The news reported, informed the audience that they couldn't go into too much detail regarding the specifics of this horrifying and brutal murder, but they did say the killer had abducted violent, taken her to a remote location in the park,

and committed the heinous acts of violence over the course of a few hours. As the broadcast went on, my heart began to pound harder and harder as each piece. of significant information was like a nail being hammered into my chest. They said the nature of the crime and the sadistic methods of torture and mutilation matched the ammo of around 20 other violent murders involving young women throughout a number of locations in the United States. The locations they listed were all locations that Robert had worked since he got his job.

The news reporter went on to inform the audience that the FBI were looking for a man in connection with the offences, who they dubbed the cross-lines cannibal. The pseudonym was based on the fact his crimes crossed state lines as well as the violent nature of the murders themselves. I sat there, convincing myself that this was purely circumstantial. This could have all just been a string of haunting coincidences, but then they brought up the suspect sketch. My heart fell into my stomach as soon as I saw that drawing. It was Robert. His slick back hair, his square jaw, his piercing green eyes, his perfectly moulded nose.

I pulled out the laptop and Google searched the drawing. The drawing was actually done by Kansas State PD around 14 months before the Violet Walsh murder. The sketch had been drawn when another girl, Julia Devereon, was found dumped in an alley in Park City, Kansas. Her body butchered and mutilated in a similar fashion to the other victims. A man was seen leaving the vicinity shortly after the murder was thought to have taken place. A witness told KSPD that he'd seen a man leaving the area with blood splattered around his mouth, neck and chest. The witness asked him if he was okay or if he needed an ambulance. The man reportedly replied,

Yes, I'm fine, it's just a nosebleed, before making a hasty retreat from the area. When I read that line, I clasped. I was astounded and horrified by the revelation that my husband, my actual husband, was the most wanted serial killer in North America. I continued to Google myself into a frenzy, learning the horrible details of all the brutal and unspeakable things that Robert had done over the course of the last decade. From the official FBI website, I learned that the cross-lying cannibal was suspected

to have been responsible for over 23 murders across the last decade. 17 different states. They provided a phone number for anyone with information and offered a hundred thousand dollar reward for anyone who had information leading to his arrest. It took a few weeks to overcome the denial, but eventually I picked up the phone. Rodriguez broke the silence. I'm sorry about Jeff. A horrible way for a man to go.

I wiped a tear that had broken from my iris. It's okay. He wasn't very nice to me, but, you know, there was a time when he was. He was the father to one of my kids. I didn't like Jeff very much, but in a strange way I think there's a small part of me that will always love him. And for him to go like that. I winced, unable to finish my thought pattern, nor my sentence. The agent noticed my self-pity.

He saw me becoming frustrated with myself for letting Robert Cassidy into my head, allowing him to affect me in such a way. I don't know if I can do this again. I brought this man into our lives. It's got my ex-husband killed, and now my daughters are at risk. I just can't face him again. I just can't. I began to cry.

Let me tell you something that I've never told anyone. The agent offered me a break from thinking about Jeff and what Robert did to him, and I took it. Go on, I invited. When we were looking for the cross-line cannibal, I just thought he was like every other serial killer out there. Fines one, rapes one, kills one. All in their own special little way. Or to get the world talking and make them feel special.

You know, once you've seen one serial killer, you've kind of seen them all. But, well, if we're going to be truly honest here, the day we raided your house to arrest Cassidy and take him into custody, I knew the minute I read him right, that he was. was something else entirely. When we took him to Florence and me and Quincy got him in that interrogation room, I didn't see a man who'd done bad things, or a classroom textbook serial killer. No, I saw a very bad man who loved to do even worse things.

He spoke about the strength and technique needed to sodomize someone with a tree branch. He talked about the taste of his living victim's flesh, like he was a duff fucking Goldman talking about a sponge cake. At one point he even joked about how chewy the fat ones can be He also demonstrated how he choked one girl with barbed wire As he curled her like a barbell Describing in detail how his mouth tore back to her earlobes He talked about every sick and twisted thing he did to his victims

And he did it like he was talking about how he fastens his fucking shoelaces Now I've had all types of criminals in that room Psychopaths, sadists, cannibals rapists, murderers, narcissists. And yet never in my life have I met one that I could say combined them all. For the first time in my life,

the man across from me terrified me. I think that's because I wasn't even sure if he was a man. We had to interview that man for nearly seven hours while he teased the district attorney into dropping the death penalty.

In return, he'd give us the locations of a number of burial sites. Here we'd find the mutilated body of ten missing girls. Anyway, Amy, my point is that for every minute of every one of those seven hours, I was scared. Didn't matter that he was chained to a desk and had two armed officers aiming pistols at him. He made me shiver. His coldness, his maniacal chuckle, the way he licked his lip every time he spoke about tearing flesh from women's necks with his bare teeth.

When the DA gave him life instead of death, I'm not ashamed. to say I whimpered, because I know while ever that man is alive, he's a risk to everyone he meets. The agent said, staring vacantly forward. I know, I added. But yet, when we told you that all we had was circumstantial evidence, we said we needed a confession to catch him. We asked if you'd wear a wire. You remember what you sold me?

Um, not really. You said, Agent, I brought this man into my children's lives. I'm their mother, and I'll do anything to get him back out again. I'll do anything I need to. You weren't scared. You weren't deterred. You were focused.

So please, Amy, don't let him get in your head. You took him down once, and you can do it again. You're the strongest and bravest woman I know. Much braver than me, but together, we can't. stop him. So, let's go do it. The agent said, smiling at the end. I appreciated his kind words. I appreciated the pep talk. It was definitely needed. Oh, and Amy, the agent began to add. I looked up at him. He's murdered three people and assaulted another that we know of. We catch him and this time there'll be no deals, no trades, no excuses. He will be sentenced to death.

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As soon as I turned my mobile on, I attempted to contact Ashley, but her phone was still going to voicemail. I began to imagine the ways I had killed her when I eventually saw her. Special Agent Rodriguez began calling around as our vehicle tore at high speeds towards the university. He arranged for the Denver Police Department to send offices to the university and get Ashley into protective custody and search for any sign of Robert Cassidy. No one spoke, as we were all mentally preparing for the showdown which was about to happen. Agent Rodriguez's ringtone suddenly broke the silence,

making all the agents of myself gently startling our seats. Rodriguez answered the phone. Hey, special age. God, an officer, Dave Miles here. Says he's been sent to assist us. Says he's been sent by Detective Dan Hepworth. Says you knew all about it. Agent Quince questioned.

Yeah, that's fine. Is he on his own? Rodriguez asked. There was some indistinct conversation that was inaudible to us before Quince replied. Yeah, just you're on his own. just him. Says Hepworth is sending some more though. They're on their way. Okay, that's fine. Just make sure you check IDs upon entry and stay vigilant. We'll be in touch once we're set up

at the university. Agent Rodriguez instructed before saying his official goodbyes and hanging up. I ask for assistance in guarding a defenseless child from the most sadistic serial killer since John Gasey and what do they do? One fucking officer they sent. One. The agent shook his head, and discussed. Ah, budges must be stretched again, I assume. Be quipped. The other agents chuckled in agreement. How long to work at the university?

I asked. Rodriguez checked the sat now. Fifteen minutes. Don't worry, Amy. I just got word that the police are of the campus right now. They've set up checkpoints at the campus, clocking everyone who enters and exits the site. The other officers are looking for Ashley as we speak.

There's no way he's got to. there before us. So unless he's driving the millennium freaking Falcon, then we got at least two hours on him. Best get your foot down then, I instructed, not in the mood for jokes. We poured up at the university campus at 9.35 p.m., where we were greeted by a large collection of Denver police. There must have been over 30 offices swarming around the campus. Some were checking vehicles and students as they passed through the checkpoints, while others were patrolling and interviewing with people passing by. We got out of the vehicle and headed over to what I assumed was the commanding officer.

Agent Rodriguez approached him. Special Agent David Rodriguez, Quantigo. Are you in charge? He said as he held out his badge. Welcome, special agent. Lieutenant Stanley Watkins, Denver PD. We spoke on the phone, he replied. Of course, well, I gotta say, I'm really impressed by your precinct's response.

Other department's response to this has been a, uh, little lackluster. They asked for some Dallas officers to attend an at-risk person at their home. They sent one guy and he got there two lanes. The subject was murdered by Cassidy, and then when I asked for some more officers to assist my agents at a safe house in Fort Worth, again, they only sent one officer. I can't get the staff some days, can you? Disgraceful, truly. I followed the two men as they made their way into the building. They continue conversing. Any sight and survive Ashley or Cassidy?

The agent asked. Negative on both fronts. No sign of Cassidy. Well, in regards to the girl, her room's empty. No sign of Miss Benning or her roommates. We're going around the whole campus and asking for any witnesses who know of their whereabouts. The officer answered. Well, what does that mean?

Was there any sign of a break in or a struggle? Where's my baby go? They intervened, slightly losing it. All my outbursts combined with the agent and the officer, both trying to settle me, was interrupted by a mouthy and dinky young woman with jet-black hair and soft gothic makeup. She was marching towards her, stomping her feet, shouting the odds. Oi, what's the five-o doing trash in my room? I ain't done nothing.

She was really fuming. You're Ashley Benning's roommate, the agent asked. Yeah, what's this about? Is it about Ashley? What's she done now? God, I'll kill her. My things are everywhere. She roared at the agent. She's not done anything. There's someone dangerous on the loose that may not only have Ashley's location, but also a reason to harm her.

You know where she is. It's really important we get her into protection. Where's my daughter? You must know where she is. She isn't answering you the phone. The girl looked to me and her anger washed away once she saw my expression and realized the gravity of the situation. Um, yeah, she went on a date. Told me not to wait up, she said with a reserved tone. With who? I asked, with my heart in my mouth. Um, I don't know. She was talking to him on Tinder

today. He invited her to meet tonight. She said his name was Roman. That's all I know. Is she in danger? She began to sound as worried as I did. We all looked at each other. I think so. The agent responded honestly. We ran as fast as we could back to the SUV. The lieutenant agreed he'd get their department to gain access to Ashley's cell records and try and find the last number she called. As soon as he had a location, he'd be in touch.

We hopped in the vehicle and began to make our way to the beltway, ready to head in any direction we needed. Well, the call came through quicker than I'd expected. Agent Rodriguez's phone once again lit up. up and jingled and the agent hit the green button without haste. Yes, Lieutenant, what do you have for us? Calls from a burner. It's unregistered. We don't know who it belongs to, but the cell phone is on, and the last tower we got a signal off was that...

70th Avenue, Adam City. Before that, it pinged off a tower near Sand Creek landfill. The lieutenant went quiet, as he accessed his knowledge of the city of Denver. Yeah, it looks like he's potentially heading to the Rocky Mountain Refuge Park. Lieutenant's tone didn't sound like he was guessing. He sounded confident but trailed off as he realized the gravity of his words. Ever since he was seen that night in Park City, every Cassidy victim was found in a remote woodland area. The agents tried their best not to look me in the eye as I winced in my seats,

wondering what horrific state we might find Ashley in, if we didn't get there fast enough. A convoy consisting of the FBI's SUV sandwiched by two Denver PD cars hit the blue lights and tore down the 25 at breakneck speed. I could see the agents checking and loading their weapons.

I had no weapon and I had no lieutenants to liaise with. I was simply alone, alone with my thoughts and my doubts. As we pulled up to the parking lot on 96th Avenue, the convoy swarmed into the park, looking for any sign of Robert or Ashley. Immediately we noticed a single vehicle in the lots. The feds and the cops made their way over, guns drawn. The vehicle was gently tilting and rocking.

Someone was inside. Visit the FBI. If anyone's there, please make it known as we are armed. Rodriguez warned. The vehicle began to move more vigorously now. We all approached cautiously. One of the officers carefully made his way around the side of the vehicle, again weapon at the ready. He looked through the window, and my heart was in my mouth.

Get off the girl. The officer had seen something that alarmed him. He pointed the weapon into the back seat. I, along with the agents and other officers ran over to assist. I could see that there was a figure in the back seat mounting someone else, and I could see. could hear a deep male voice powering over a muffled wine of a female. Get out of the vehicle with your hands up, another officer ordered, and the rocking of the vehicle continued, and the two voices began to get louder.

Enough was enough, with two federal agents covering them with weapons up, one of the officers ripped open the car door and pulled the man by the scruff of his collar, backwards out of the car and onto the dirt. The man who was exposing himself, scuttled, on the ground desperately trying to get to his feet with his trousers around his knees. As he got to his feet, dressed himself and looked up, he found that he had around seven pistols aimed at him. On your knees now, now, one of the officers kicked the back of his knees, causing his legs to fold and therefore complying with the order. He looked around, embarrassed, shocked and scared. He was

also young, blonde and pale. It wasn't Roberts. Hey, what the hell's going on? A half-dressed tart came stumbling out of the car, realigning her skirt. Get off him, she added. Ashley, I snapped sharply. That tart was my daughter. Oh my God, Mom, what the hell are you doing here?

She asked, mortified. despite my anger at her behavior I ran to her and hugged her I had tears in my eyes I was just happy to know she was okay Mom what on what's going on why are you with the FBI

Ashley didn't know which question to ask first I closed my eyes for a second as I gulped before staring her dead in the eye it's Robert I said her eyes widened and she turned her head slightly as if bracing for what I was about to say next. He's escaped.

As soon as the last syllable left my lips, Ashley broke. After 15 minutes consisting of calming Ashley down and her introducing me to her friend, Roman Manning, and the police releasing him from gunpoint, Roman left in his car and Ashley jumped in the back of the SUV with me and Agent Rodriguez. His sister's in a safe house in Fort Worth.

and that's where we're going now. We're going to stay there until they catch him, I informed her. That's right. I'm going to escort you and your mother back to Texas, and my team is going to stay here and wait for Cassidy to expose himself. We strongly believe he is here.

Agent Rodriguez informed Ashley as he started the car and pulled onto the highway. Okay, I don't understand, though. Why would you think he'd come for me? He wouldn't know I was in Denver. her question caught me off guard i wasn't ready to give her the answer and she sensed it me and the agent shared a concern look he nodded to me as if to tell me honesty was the best policy and ashley sensed that too mom what's happened she asked concerned what followed was the hardest conversation i've ever had to

have. The sound of my little girl's wail that rang throughout that Denver night sky will haunt my mind forever. I didn't go into the detail about the horrible things Robert had done to Jeff, but for all his faults, Ashley knew her father wouldn't have given up her location easily. Her imagination was her own worst enemy. We arrived at the airport and boarded the plane back to Texas. It took the entire two-hour flight for Ashley to stop crying and fall asleep. I cradled her in my arms the whole flight. It felt like a double-edged blade. As much as I could tell, she was in pain over the fate of her father. It was nice to finally feel like I had my baby girl back. The plane landed and Agent Rodriguez escorted us off the plane and to the Fort Worth Airport parking lots, where another SUV with two

agents inside was waiting. As we unlocked the vehicle and began to climb in, Rodriguez switched his cell phone on now that he was off the plane he looked at his notifications and began to look a little confused everything okay i asked um yeah i think so sorry just one minute the agent sounded flustered and he held a finger up signaling for me to give him a minute to collect his thoughts he began to dial a number come on come on what the hell the agent said as his phone call wasn't answered He sighed in frustration. What's going on, agent? I asked intently. Quinson Barkin's not answering.

Protocol states they should call and check in every hour to let me know everything's okay. If the phone's off, they should text. I don't understand. He started to sound really concerned. What about the officer or the detective you spoke with? Hepworth, was it? I asked, unsure of the name. Hepworth, I mean, I've done. got five missed calls from a Dallas number.

Maybe that's the number of the officer he sent to the safe house. The agent said, as he pressed redial on the missed call. At the point we were in the vehicle, the Bluetooth caused the phone to come through the speakers. The phone rang a few times before it was finally answered. Captain Reginald Porter, Dallas PD. Hi, um, apologies for my delayed response. I've been on a flight. My name is Special Agent Rodriguez from the FBI, and I think,

you... Yes, of course, Agent. I've been trying to get in touch with you all night. We believe you're in touch with one of our detectives earlier tonight. Regarding protection for a GF. Benny? The captain asked. Oh, uh, yeah, I was. I was just trying to get in touch with Dan Hepworth, actually.

I was wondering if you knew... No, no. Detective Richard Earnshaw. The captain interrupted. Oh, yeah, yeah. He was one of the first guys I contacted. apparently he was reassigned and Dan Hepworth took over. What? What's happened?

Rodriguez waited curiously as there was a silence. He's dead. We found him a couple of hours ago in Jeff Benning's garage, along with another officer who he attended the property with Officer Mills. Agent Rodriguez was stunned, as was I. We were speechless, so the captain continues. We found them both stuffed in the trunk of Jeff Benning's. car. They've been ambushed because neither of them got around off them. Both of their necks were broken.

Sorry to change the subject suddenly, but you mentioned a Dan Hepworth? What's going on, Captain? Who's Dan Hepworth? How does he have a dead man's phone? Agent Rodriguez demanded to know. Well, I don't know how to tell you this, but we don't have any detectives here by that name. Part four. It was about. black, that ringing tone. Hard to describe it really. Imagine you've just stood next to a grenade that's detonated. Your ears ringing, your mind blank.

Shellshocked is probably the word people use. The implications of what we just learned had everyone's mind scrambled. We'd driven fast all evening, don't get me wrong, but nothing compared to how we were rapidly weaving in and out of traffic right now, desperately trying to get to the safe house. It was pointless though. Agent Rodriguez got the call from Quince when we landed in Denver, meaning Robert had arrived at the safe house at around 9.40pm.

That clever bastard sent us on a wild goose chase to Denver while he went after his real target right here in Texas. Our best hope of Sadie being alive was that Robert wanted her that way. I was trying to tell myself he wouldn't kill her just to hurt me, but I knew that wasn't true. We pulled up at the safe house at 3.15 a.m. The collection of blue lights, yellow tape and men in white oversuits were not a good sign. I stared in horror out of the tinted window and up at the property's garden path, watching as a pair of stretches carrying black body bags were wheeled out of the front door of the small townhouse. I, along with Ashley, burst from the car. We ran to the nearest stretcher and screamed at the paramedic to get out of the way. The medic. officials protested out tugging at the zips, frantically trying to open the bag. However, once Special Agent Rodriguez gave them a signal to stand down, they complied and he joined

in our checking the ID of the bodies. As the agent pulled the zip down, I was praying I was not about to be greeted by Sadie's face. Thankfully, I wasn't. But what looked up at me, had me taken aback. A man, his face was badly disfigured, his nose and top lip looked like. they'd been violently bitten off. Both eyes were swallowed up, and I didn't dare look at what other injuries Robert

inflicted on this poor man. Agent Rodriguez grabbed his head with both hands and began to shake it in grief. Oh God, Barkins, oh, fuck. He was furious, but his anger soon turned to horror and anticipation as he looked at the other stretcher. The size was similar to the one containing the body of ancient. Boggins. I think at this point I knew Sadie wasn't in there, as did Agent Rodriguez. Ashley and I stood in sympathy as Rodriguez marched over to the other body bag.

Whoa, whoa, sir, I really don't think you want to see. The paramedic tried to warn the agent, but he'd already ushered him out of the way and he opened the bag. Rodriguez looked down at Agent Quince's face and fell to his knees. His pain-filled whales as he looked down at the brutality. that had been bestowed on his best friend and colleague of 15 years, filled the night air. His reaction gave me deja vu of early this evening

when Ashley learned of her father. As Agent Rodriguez mourn the death of his two fallen comrades, I made my way into the safe house. A police officer on the doorstep attempted to stop my entry. Excuse me, man, but this is a crime scene and you can't... Well, I didn't let him finish his sentence before I pushed him aside and informed him it was my daughter.

supposed to be protecting. I also said that if there was anyone who could find a clue to her whereabouts, it'd be me. Oh, I'm so sorry, ma'am, I didn't realize who you were, he said sincerely as he leant in close. He began to whisper. Oh, the two cops he killed were good guys. Both had families and kids. He kissed his teeth in anger, and he continued. I've got you in sight so you don't disturb any potential evidence, but if you can in any way, you can, in any way, help us catch that bastard, then you're welcome to come inside. This way, ma'am. He ushered me into the building.

For this on, don't touch anything and sign this, he said, as he handed me a forensic oversuit and a clipboard. I complied and entered the house. The hallway didn't seem too disturbed. I noticed the garage door was ajar, but other than that, nothing to note. However, once we made our way down the hall, a smell filled my nostrils. a mixture of metallic odour and burning flesh. I prepared myself as I went through the living room door.

I winced, unspeakable things had happened in this room. The furniture was all pushed back against the walls to make a large space in the centre of the room. Two desk chairs were in the middle of the room, roughly two metres apart. They were torn pieces of duct tape still stuck on the armrests of each chair, as well as the chair legs. A high concentration of blood spills. batter was on the floor and wall by the first chair with seven amputated fingers and around five to six

teeth laying strewn around in the space surrounding the chair a claw hammer some pliers and a pair of bulk cutters also lay nearby again all covered in bloods the other chair had areas where the plastic was melted and the fabric was badly singed a blowtorch lay close by i held my mouth as i tried not to vomit, but also trying to stop the flow of horrible nasal indicators of what had occurred here. I walked out of the room and made my way upstairs, following the landing round to the end bedroom. The door was ajar. I opened it fully. The room was pristine, no signs of violence or struggling here, thankfully. The bed she was sleeping in, the sheets had been carefully pulled back and Sadie had been carefully lifted out of it. Or Robert's antics downstairs were

clearly carried out while Sadie was sleeping. She was a deep sleeper, fair enough, but Robert surely must have gagged these men. There's no way they didn't scream. I picked up the pillow, pressed it against my face, inhaled deeply the smell of my beautiful baby girl. I began to sob as I wondered how on earth I could have failed my children so badly.

But then I felt it. Inside the pillar case was a faint, crinkly outline of a sheet of paper. I took my hand into the pillowcase and fished it out. I tried to hold it still, but my hands were shaking. Finally, I composed myself and flicked the paper outwards so its message became clear. Dear Amy, Sadie is safe for now. You have my word. I've had more than enough fun since I left Florence, as I'm sure you're aware of.

But believe me, I have one more in me. You or Sadie. The decision is yours. Come to the old office space on Worth Heights. I'll give you till 5am. If you don't show or I see a pig or a fed, I will tear her to pieces. You know I will.

Your sincerely, Robert. My heart began to pound, half out of panic, half from anger. That vile bastard. I screwed up the paper and threw it in the small bin in the corner of the bedroom. I made my way outside. The police officer on the door signed me out and requested me to hand in my suit. He asked if I'd found anything and I said, well, I lied to him, saying I hadn't.

Mom, is Sadie okay? Is she in there? Ashley asked in a panic. I grabbed her shoulders and shook my head. No, baby, she isn't. He's taken her. I informed him. Her face began to deform in horror.

to which I calmed her down by saying, That's a good thing, honey. Everything else left behind is not in a good way. He clearly wants her alive. Agent Rodriguez came running across the garden. We know where he is, he said as he waved me over to his car, and I gasped inside. Where? I asked tentatively.

He's at the airport. He took Quince's car. What he doesn't know is that the car is a tracker. I've alerted the airport to be on the lookout for him and Sadie. He's trapped. Dallas PD and Fort Worth PD are already swarming the building. Let's go get him. He then opened the rear door for me to jump in,

and I thought on my feet. I'm not coming, I said bluntly, and neither is Ashley, I added. Both Rodriguez and Ashley looked at me as if I'd just peeled my face off. What? They both exclaimed. If I'm there when you arrest him and he knows the game is up, he could kill Sadie just to get one last dagger in. Please, go get my baby, I'll stay here with Ashley, I said, trying to sound convincing.

Ashley wasn't happy. Rodriguez, on the other hand, I could tell he got my point. He promised me he would call once they had Cassidy and Cuffs and Sadie safe. He made his way over to the car and began to climb in when all of a sudden Ashley followed suit. You can sit her all you want, but I'm going to go get my sister, she said, that stroppy teen charm shining through. I did my best to sound against the idea, but this was ideal. I protested, but I knew Ashley wouldn't back down, and she didn't disappoint. Agent Rodriguez promised me he'd keep her safe, and I believed him.

Even if I didn't know he was going to arrest, Cassidy, I would believe him. As soon as they left, I checked my watch. for 38 a.m. I quickly went over to the cop on the door who signed me in earlier. I started to shiver the best I could. I'm sorry to bother you. I don't know if it's a shock or the cold, but I'm really shaking. Do you mind if I sit in your car?

I asked, giving my eyelashes a flutter for good measure. He smiled and dug his hand in his pockets, pulling out a set of keys. Just turn the ignition to the first point. That'll activate the heating, he said, with a friendly nod. I thanked him and made my way over to his Fort Worth police cruiser. I let myself into the driver's seat, making sure he wasn't looking as I did so. And before anyone knew anything, I'd turned the key and went. Part 5.

I pulled into the lot that surrounded the MIG constructed tower block. I'd read about this on the news. The five-story building had been commissioned a year ago for around 25 student flats to be built the students of the Fort Worth University. It was in the middle of its construction, so it was around 60 foot of wood flooring, scaffolding, and plastic sheeting. I exited the car and had a look around. I saw a pair of tire marks leading to a space in front of the main entrance,

but no other vehicle was in sight. I assumed Robert had driven to the airport and got a taxi from there to here, knowing full well the vehicle had a tracker. I don't doubt the two agents told him everything he needed to know, with the things he did to them. I made my way up the tower block. Each floor was based with a thick sheeting of plywood sitting on the steel frame of the building.

There was a small hatch with ladders in the centre of each floor which permitted users to climb the tower. I began the climb, carefully making my way up each set. As I got to the foot of the final ladder, I heard a small child whimper. The deep, assertive voice followed, telling the child,

I think your mommy's here now. The adrenaline was at its peak as it pumped through my body. Had it been any other situation, I would have fled for my life. However, he had my child, so I climbed to fight. I peeked my head up through the hatch. I scanned the area. Mommy! The soft voice cried from the corner of the building, and I immediately looked over.

There she was, my baby girl. safe and sound, but there restraining her blade to her neck was Robert. I assured Sadie it would be okay and let her know that Mommy was here to save her. Well, reunited at last, baby girl. Robert said in his usual, charming voice. I hope you appreciate the amount of people I had to kill to arrange this little rendezvous. I hope you realize how much I love you, Amy. He actually sounded believable.

You're a monster. You don't know what love is. I'll let my baby go, go. I tried to be a certain. No, I loved you, Amy. I mean, look at you and look at me. You were beat up, wrong side of 35, saggy and lump, you know, the wrong places. I could have any woman I wanted, but I chose you.

That's love, Amy. You betrayed me. His mask was off now. His darkness exuded towards me. You killed all those girls. And yet, I didn't kill you. Despite you always snooping in my things and spying on me like the paranoid freak you are. How can you say I don't love you?

You're sick, I said bluntly, causing Robert to chuckle. I'm not sick. Sick people don't escape from the most secure facility in the US. sick people don't manipulate the FBI into going on some wild goose chase all night. You're a sick bastard. What you did to Jeff, to those officers, to the agents? I began to reel off the list of bodies that had piled up in the last 24 hours. Those officers, they beat me in my custody cell when I first got arrested.

Those agents, you should have seen how they belittle me in my interviews. And Jeff, Do not hold a candle to that coward. He's not worth your grief. He said, grinning at me, as he slapped a piece of tape over Sadie's mouth. What do you mean? I asked. Carefully eyeing the sledgehammer resting against the wall by Robert. I tried to carefully make my way over to him.

Well, you see, I needed to torture him so badly that you guys would assume he told me where Ashley was. That son of a bitch gave up her location after the very first cut. Barely put up a fight. Even I didn't expect that. I needed him to look so bad that I carried on anyway. As I began hammering pins up his toenails, he screamed like a little bitch. He even begged me to stop and let him call her. He said he'd invite her over, pay for her flight and everything.

That sack of shit was willing to hand his daughter over to me, simply to save his own skin. I did you and Ashley a favor, believe me. His vacant look as he discussed the torture of Jeff chilled me to the core. He continued. I mean, don't get me wrong. I'd have just killed these two feds for the same way I killed the two police. Quick, simple, snuffed out with a firm snap of the neck.

Attack my body, if you will. I can forgive that, but don't attack my legacy. That's a very different story. During my interviews those agents called me stupid for underestimating you They call me textbook an ordinary for being like every other serial killer They call me simple for being called Those words have rung in my head for two and a half years Who's stupid now? They welcome me in

board the kennel asked me if I wanted cream and sugar Look on that quince his face when he came in to find his friend with half of his face missing priceless although it was nothing compared to the look on his face when I lit the blowtorch his face honestly resembled that of someone reminiscing of

happy times meanwhile I stood there feeling nauseous partially from the adrenaline spike and partially from the vile details provided by Robert I've moved to within three metres of the sledgehammer disguising it as me approaching Sadie

he hadn't noticed I didn't thing. So then, Robert, all this violence and scheming. What's the end game? Why are we here? I asked, now just two meters away from the hammer. Oh, I'm not built for prison, Amy. I don't do well in captivity. Having kids who were bullied in school now taking their insecurities out of people in chains. knuckle dragging yabs with a baton and a stung gun telling you when to wake when to sleep and when to eat and when to shit no if i don't get to be free and hunt then i'm not long for this world so i want to go out with a bang i want to live on in people's memory i guarantee every police officer in texas will remember my name i guarantee agent rodriguez will think of me every year when it's his best friend's birthday and i guarantee i the sedio you'll remember my name i guarantee agent rodriguez will think of me every year when it's his best friend's birthday and i guarantee i guarantee i guarantee the city You will think of the other, after tonight. Depending on how you want to play this, he said, pulling a blade out of his belt. I was one meter from the sledgehammer.

This was my chance. I dived for the hammer. I was inches away when a hard, stiff blow struck my face. I hit the floor hard, ears ringing, eyes shaking, a stream of blood poured down my face and ears. Robert was standing over me, a brick in hand. My God, he was quick. I tried to crawl to the hammer. It was my only chance.

Robert stamped down hard on my hand, causing me to scream in pain. My hand was on fire. I was sure it was broken in every possible place. I cradled it and looked up at Robert in pain as he smiled at me. I've made my choice. Me. Kill me. Leave Sadie alone. I begged in agony, pleading to any shred of decency that Robert had. So be it. He grabbed his blade and advanced on me. Get off my mom, Sadie screamed. She'd freed herself on a piece of glass and was charging towards Roberts.

I didn't know whether to call her clever or stupid. Robert stood up and grabbed her by the throat and forced her back onto the ground. Sadie Winston pain and began to sob. You're a bad man. You killed my daddy, she said through her tears. Robert smiled with pleasure. Wow, Amy, you must really hate me. Telling her that that sniffling coward of a man is her father and not the truth, he said, loving every second of it.

No, you're right, Sadie, I didn't kill your father. he said about to reveal who he really was. I took this chance to crawl to the hammer. I turned over and dragged myself towards it. I didn't kill your father because... Robert continued as I looked up for the hammer. It was gone. I was confused.

Oh no, he was going to use it on Sadie. I flipped over and looked up. No, he didn't kill your father. I did. Ashley screamed as she swung the sledgehammer hard into Robert's jaw. The impact forced him back, stumbling towards the edge of the structure. As soon as his heels went over, myself, Sadie, Ashley and Agent Rodriguez watched him spiral 180 degrees and go over the edge, face first.

A few seconds later we heard a sheet of glass shatter, tin split and a loud thought. Mom, are you okay? Ashley and Sadie ran over and cradled me. Agent Rodriguez pulled out his radio. He informed control that he had the positive location of Robert Cassidy and Sadie Benny. He requested backup, a paramedic and a coroner. He then came over to me to render first aid. How did you know I was here? I said.

My head throbbing. Agent Rodriguez smiles. You honestly didn't think Officer Wise wouldn't report his car being stolen by a mad woman, did you? And the FBI vehicles are the only ones with the trackers in them. He informed me. Me and Ashley came to check on you,

saw the car, came up the tower, and heard you two going at it. Believe me, it wasn't my idea for Triple H over here to go running in. But I'm happy she did. He added, looking at Ashley with a wink. Around 20 minutes later, the cavalry turned up. Agents came up the structure along with the medical

professional. The medics began treating my head injury as the agent's asked where Robert was. He went over the edge. Amy was defending herself. He was trying to force his weapon on her and she kicked him off with her legs and he fell. No doubt about it, self-defense. Rodriguez explained, clearly wanting to keep Ashley away from anything that could potentially come back on her. He continued.

Cassidy fell three floors. Looked like he went through that glass structure on the second floor. His body crashed through the roof of the workers' porter cabin. Took a nasty fall. You'll find his body in there, he informed them, ordering the agents to go with a coroner to retrieve the body. As me and my girls were escorted out of the structure, the coroner's brought out Robert's body in one of those familiar black body bags on a stretch yet.

Bredriguez asked the coroner, so he's dead then. To which the coroner chuckled, Oh yeah, nasty fall. barely had her face left after all that. Neck was broken, as was his jaw. Ashley and I shared a look. She almost looked pleased.

I mean, fair play to her. She did catch him a beauty. After a few weeks, me and my girls were back in San Antonio, trying to get on with our lives. I sat Sadie down and told her the truth about who her father was. She took it well. She's a strong girl. I decided not to tell Ashley what Robert.

had told me about Jeff. I told her that Robert was impressed with how much she'd had to hurt him in order to get him to disclose the information. I'd rather her have a good lasting impression of her father. I'd rather not give Robert his dying wish of tormenting people's memories. One morning I went to collect the mail. As usual, there was a mountain of bills. Agent Rodriguez, however, had promised the reward for his arrest would be processed to us, given our assistance in the case, this time and previously. One letter stood out, however. It was a unique envelope.

The address was handwritten, and the stamp was Canadian. I tossed the letter on the counter, deciding to read it later with a glass of wine. The phone stuffed in my pocket began to vibrate, causing me to drop whatever I was doing. I pulled it out of my tight jeans after some difficulty. It was Agent Rodriguez. I answered quickly before the call rung off.

Well, hello there, supervisory special agent Rodriguez. I said, emphasising Rodriguez's new title. He'd been given a well-deserved promotion after recent events. Amy, where are you? Where are the girls? He sounded panicked. I wasn't prepared for this. They're at school and I'm at home.

Why? What's going on? My voice was rushed and trembling. The morning after Cassidy's death, a local taxi firm reported one of their drivers missing. They said he never returned to base that morning. Fort Worth PD finally got around to investigating it. They found his car abandoned on some rail tracks near where Cassidy fell. They tracked the vehicle's movements using the GPS.

The last journey was from Dallas-Fort Worth International Airport, heading to the Worth Heights office park. That's how Rob has got there after dumping Quincy's car. We decided to carry out a forensic search of the taxi driver's car. We harvested plenty of DNA, which is likely to be the driver of the vehicle. We compared that to the body found in the porter cabin after Cassidy's fall. It's a match, he said as I faded out. There it was again, the deaf tone of my ears, the blood pumping far too hard. I was drowning once again.

I could hear Rodriguez in the background shouting through the phone, but it wasn't registering with me. Faintly I could hear, Amy, are you okay? And I'm sending a car for you and the girls. Stay on the phone. I dropped the phone as the panic set in. I stumbled over to the counter. I placed both hands on it to get my balance and prevent myself from falling to the ground. I looked down at the towel surface and the out-of-place letter stared right back up at me.

I composed myself and began tearing at the envelope and poured out a single sheet of A4 paper. It read, Dear Amy, I guess this letter won't come as a shock, as I assume by now you're aware the man who they carried out of that cabin wasn't me. He was a nice fellow. I didn't want to tear his face off honestly, but I needed a backup. Tell Ashley that she has quite the swing on her.

Kudos. I have no current plans to come for you. I can assure you of that, you have my word. I'm having far too much fun here in the Great White North, though. There will be a time, however, that my plans change. But until then, I wish you the best. Thinking of you always. Yours truly.

Robert. The White Van Man, Part 1. Before we begin, I need to declare that I'm not using any real name. in this story as I don't want to give away my new identity and break my witness protection, WITSEC agreement. Anonymity is definitely preferred in my particular situation. I'll also not be referencing the year or particular area this took place. I'm writing this out as I think it would be therapeutic for me to process this traumatic event

by putting it down on paper in words. Initially I never intended to post this on the internet, but I'm hoping it helps in any small way to shine a light on some of the disappear. experiences in my area. Oh, I am bound by the law to keep my mouth shut on this subject, as the investigation is ongoing and highly classified due to its sensitivity, whatever that means. Oh, and don't be a wise ass and try and find anything in the media on this. It's all being suppressed to protect vulnerable parties.

And again, I don't know what our handler meant by that. But anyway, I'm speaking out because I've had enough. I'm done living my cozy new life while other people. are still at risk, still in danger. The people who live in the country where I grew up need to be aware and vigilant of this ongoing problem. But at this moment, its specifics are kept tightly under wraps by the FBI. Remember, to keep your kids and loved ones close, and in clear sight.

Oh, anyway, rant over. Here's my story. I'm going to call myself Olivia Matthews. At the time of these events, I was 12 years old. and two weeks from my 13th birthday. I'd always felt mature for my age, but even so, everyone says, looks wise, I didn't look a day over nine.

It was Thursday, the 27th of June, and I'd just finished school for the day. There wasn't anything different about the day itself. There were no feelings of being watched, no overwhelming sense of dread or impending sense of doom, no warning signs whatsoever. I thought I was just a normal kid with a normal life. Now, on a side note, I think.

everyone's guilty of hearing horrible things on the news that have happened to regular people all over the world such as abductions and murders we've at no point ever truly thinking it would happen to you perhaps we become slightly more vigilant when walking home and make sure to check our door locks for a few nights afterwards until the novelty wears off and the complacency once again sets in right back to the story so on this particular day i just got within 150 hours of my house and was just turning the corner to enter my street when a man fell in step with me from behind. He literally seemed to come from nowhere, and I certainly didn't hear his footsteps while he was approaching me.

Well, hello there, he said with a smile. It wasn't a sinister smile, but not a friendly one either. It was a type of smile you'd do if you were showing someone what a smile was. They lacked emotion behind it. It seemed completely put on. It was a mask to hide the real face that lurked beneath. "'Hi,' I murmured back, after a brief scan of my mind to figure whether or not I actually knew this man. I looked him up and down as if doing a full body scan would help me to try and put a name to the grinning face, glaring into my soul,

and I noticed that he was dressed in all dark clothing, dark jeans, dark long-sleeved shirt, black thick shoes. He looked around mid-to-late 30s, medium-length greasy slick back hair. His superficial smile branded a single row of off-color white teeth with a gold pre-molar tooth on the left side, which seemed to sparkle in the mid-afternoon sun, almost matching his charming act. He continued to make eye contact. He didn't have what you'd call an intimidating physique,

but he was just under six foot and had a rugged look to his face and hands. I couldn't take him in a fight, let's put it that way. At first his presence wasn't a threatening one, at least not to me at the time anyway. but I figured then and I definitely know now that this wasn't normal. I'd racked my mind over and over and was now confident I didn't know this man. I'd started to realize he'd waited until I'd walked far enough to no longer be surrounded by other people from the bus, and I'd just turned the corner onto my cul-de-sac and was within 70 yards of my house.

My empty house, with no one home to rescue me. I tried not to panic initially. I told myself that he'd only said hi and we were in broad daylight. But then things took a turn towards a sinister, and he started asking questions that got more and more alarming. At first it was just, hmm, it's a lovely day to day, isn't it? And how's school treating you?

Stuff like that. I just answered, yes, fine, avoiding eye contact, hoping that you get the hint, as I had no interest in talking to this stranger. But then his approach changed. I like your pigtails. They make you look real cute. He said this in a deep voice, and his breathing had increased.

And then he added, So, do you live in one of these houses? This honestly made my toes curl in my little white dolly shoes, and this is when things started to turn south. I should mention on my cul-de-sac there are only five houses, so I couldn't lie to him as why else would I be walking there? His question seemed completely rhetorical. He'd obviously followed me and watched where I walked before he approached me.

Is your mama your daddy home? Yes, I lied, but in my panic I hadn't realized I'd already pull my keys out of my pocket in case I needed to get in my door quick. And I could tell his predatory instincts had sensed this already. I could almost feel a hunger inside him grow as he really. realized he caught me out, and also he'd noticed me staring at my own front door out of anxiety. Damn, I'd messed up. A couple with the fact he'd already guessed I had the keys to open the door, he knew there

wasn't anyone there to let me in, and he knew I'd be alone in that house. His voice seemed to tremble now with a poorly restrained excitement that made my blood run cold. His questions became more alarming by the second. My car's broken down and I need to call a cab. He seemed to emphasize the word need. May I come to your house and use your phone? I started to sweat. I knew this was a lie.

Why would the only person you asked to help be a defenceless 11-year-old girl? I felt my body start to pump adrenaline. I was in real danger. My body knew it before I did. Thinking back, there were so many red flags about it. this man, I should have realized sooner. I don't think the man blink once during the whole exchange, and every time he finished a sentence, his face would reset to that same put-on smile. His eyes had nothing to them. He would look at me and have that look in his eye like a wolf

looks at a wounded deer right before it drags its screaming carcass into the woods and tears it to pieces. I remember feeling like prey that day every time that man looked at me. I was desperate, I needed to think of something. So I pathetically attempted the stranger line and told him my mom doesn't like me talking to strangers. He scoffed and answered with fluency that his name was Dave, and they asked me my name. I said, Gina, yes, I lied again. The way he grinned and said, well then, Gina, now we're introduced, we're no longer strangers. Two things haunted me about how he reacted.

The fluency of his comeback almost suggested he'd been confronted with this line before, and the way he said Gina, as if he knew I was lying and was humouring me, or maybe he just didn't care, as soon I would become just a statistic. I tried to think on my feet again to try to get him to leave me alone, or at least think I wasn't as easy pickings as he clearly thought. I needed to think of something that would make him. him believe that someone was home. Or maybe my brother's up.

He works nights, but he gets up around now, so you can borrow his mobile, or maybe you'll get your car going. I attempted. I genuinely thought this was brilliant, and explained why the door might be locked, but still gave the impression that someone was home. But this didn't rattle him. His facial expression changed almost immediately,

and not in a good way. He pulled a pair of black leather gloves from his back pocket and began sliding them on with a sadistic excitement that told me he was calling my bluff. Brilliant. Well, then. Let's go see your brother. I looked up helplessly, lost for a response at the man who now knew he had me. He could smell it a mile away that I was lying.

I stared up, dumbfounded, at an experienced predator who knew how to corner his prey. Her tears started to escape from my eyes as I froze in. terror at the realization I was done. He put his now gloved hand on the top of my back and ushered me towards my house. My entire frame was trembling. My blood was pumping around my body at a rate I didn't know possible, and I was trying my hardest to hold back a flood of tears. At this point, I know what you're thinking.

What kind of parents leave their 12-year-old child alone for hours and ends? But we live in a seriously good neighbourhood. the sort of place where kids half my age play in the streets for hours while their parents show a glass of gin in the backyard, gossiping and biching about the rest of the neighbourhood, and where the men all go to the same local bar and go bowling together. But I think this entire event and the events that lead on from it changed our little suburban utopia forever. So, there I was in the hands of a pure predator, a man who'd actually manipulated me and got me to invite him into my own home. And now he was going to do whatever he wanted to me between now and when my mum arrived home in four hours. I desperately scanned my street for assistance. The neighbours on my left were out of town and the ones on the right wall.

Their cars were missing, not a good sign. The other houses were too far behind me now for me to try and run, and the man had me walking straight forward. The man sensed this, and he gave me a pst. He met my gaze and made me follow his to the obscenely sized knife he had concealed in his sleeve. I knew if I screamed, I was dead. I knew if I stayed quiet, I was dead. So I closed my eyes, held my breath, and tried to go to a happy place. But it was useless. All I could picture was the horrific things this man would do to me, and what would happen

when my family came home to find my mutilated corpse? Or worst of all, not find me at all. I would belong to this man forever. All of a sudden, we stopped. I assumed we were at my front door. I started to sob, reluctant to pass over the keys. But after a few seconds, I didn't feel the man take them, so I opened my eyes to see what was happening, praying to see a cop or a neighbour confronting the man.

We weren't at my door. We'd reached the foot of my driveway and stopped dead in our tracks. But there was no one there. We were still alone. No one had come to save me from the man, and that broke my spirit that little bit more. To think you have hope and then have it snatched away is a soul-destroying moment. I closed my eyes as I awaited the man's instruction, but then I felt his hand slip, and he let out a, no, no, no, his voice had slipped from this superficial charm and fluency

to murmuring, and his voice took on a panic tone. I opened my eyes again. I looked at Dave's face. The violent, malicious smile and the excited immediacy to his posture had no totally vanished. He looked as scared as I'd been ten seconds ago. His hand that had been ushering me inside was now on his head with a tight grip on his greasy hair, whilst he now stared in what seemed like disbelief into the section of pavement at the bottom of my driveway. He started to exhale, faster and faster.

He also studied to dart his vision at random places all around the surrounding area. For the first time, the man started to actually look like he was scared of being caught. He backed away from me and started to make a hasty retreat off my street. He started walking backwards at first, while snapping his head side to side, as if looking for something. His pace started to pick up, and he booked it around the corner. Or by this time, I'd snucked out of my days from the last two minutes and dashed over to my front door. I ran my keys into the lock and after around ten attempts

and a mini panic attack my key finally slid in the hole and a few seconds later I was throwing the door shut behind me and locking it up tight it was only after the second deadbolt was in place and the chain was on that I actually started to feel safe

I quickly ran to the living room window to make sure my parents hadn't left it on night lock meaning that Dave could come back later on and pry it open with his big knife I ran upstairs to call the police This was when I saw the man run around the corner to the left of my cul-de-sac. Now, I should mention at this point, the corner-houses have pretty huge hedges that restrict the view of the adjoining main road.

But from my vantage point in my bedroom, I'd just make out the top of a white transit van, around 50 yards from the entrance to my cul-de-sac. As the man turned the corner, he left my vision, and I presumed he would make a swift exit down the street. But something caught my eye. I could see the top 30 centimetres of the van, and its side door slid open around the time the man would have been making his way past the stationary vehicle, and then the door slammed shut, and a few seconds later the van drove away. I desperately tried to get the licence number of the van, but I couldn't get a clear view from my line of vision. I remember thinking about the lie the man had told me about his car being broken down, and wishing I'd noticed the van before.

I punished myself on missing it. maybe if I caught him out on it then perhaps he would have gotten cold feet and just left me alone this had really shaken me i was scared and i just wanted the police to come and arrest this man so i could sleep at night after the adrenaline wore off and i was now sure david had left and wasn't coming back i decided it was pointless to call the police i mean i only had what i assumed was a fake name and a vague description of a mass-produced vehicle with no license plate they would likely just tell me to call back if he showed up again, to make sure all my doors and windows were locked, which they were. And the main issue is they would tell my mom, maybe even get her in some

sort of trouble for me being alone, who knows? It didn't seem worth the risk, as I was safe now. I would likely never be allowed to walk home from school alone or have the house to myself ever again, and I like doing those things. They made me feel grown up. So I decided Dave wasn't coming back. mainly because of the way he'd reacted when he saw whatever he saw at the bottom of my driveway. Whatever it was had really spooked him, and he booked it out of their pretty goddamn fast. My train of thought connected with my eyes, and they pointed themselves at my driveway. And that's when I saw it, at the foot of my drive, on the pavement. A yellow drawing in what looked like chalk or paint.

I went down to investigate, and made my way to what I can only describe. as some sort of symbol on the ground. At first I really didn't know what I was looking at. It was some sort of crude drawing of a moth, butterfly, with simple shapes inside of a quickly drawn circle. No detail, just the very brief outline of the aforementioned insect inside a circle that had been done similar to how you draw the at sign. I didn't know what to make of it.

I was looking back in my mind trying to think if I'd noticed something there prior to these events. But you know how it is. Kids on my street play with chalk all the time, drawing pages, writing their names, and mapping out a hot scotch course, stuff like that. So I never would have given this a second thought anyway. But whatever this meant, it had saved my life. He had put the fear of God into a frenzied paedophile who was moments away from having a 12-year-old girl at his mercy. A few questions ran through my mind until my mum came home.

What was that symbol? What did it mean? Why did it cause Dave to have a mini heart attack and flee to his van? And how did I not notice the van before? Did Dave have a friend nearby? That was his getaway, or worse, as he coming to join in? Why had he suddenly decided to follow me? And had he just seen me alone and turning on to my streets?

Or again worse? Had he been watching me and learning my schedule and who'd be in my house at certain times? Oh, but I was creeping myself out now, so I stopped tormenting myself and put some hilarious Archaeo out of nowhere videos on YouTube to lighten my mood and tried my best to just forget about the whole thing

still when my mom eventually came home I gave her the biggest hug and told her that I loved her she immediately thought I'd done something wrong typical I laughed about it and soon Dave and the white van

and the butterfly symbol mystery was slipping from my mind days went past since my close encounter and before I knew it, it was Friday, the 5th of July, and I'd finished the final day of my school term for the summer. It had been just over a week since my run-in with the man who called himself Dave, and I'd slowly started to get over what had happened.

Over the first few days since the incidents, I could have sworn I kept seeing that white van roaming around my area, but it wasn't in an obvious way. I'd kind of keep catching glimpses of a white transit van either parked round corners nearby or passing by in the side streets near my house and school. Either way, it always seemed to just come out of nowhere, like it did on that day. I'd always close my eyes tight and rub my eyelids as if to try and wait myself up. And it worked. Every time I opened my eyes, the van would be gone.

In the end, I just chalked it up to a lack of sleep over the event, and tried to convince myself I wasn't being rational. Even so, I found myself subconsciously not wearing head full. when walking, being more vigilant when walking past objects that people could hide behind, parked up vehicles and concealed walkways, just in case Dave was hiding somewhere waiting to jump out, grabbed me and finish what he'd started last week. And for a few days after, I made sure I always locked the front door and the windows when I got home to my empty house. I wasn't sleeping great either, constantly looking out my window on a night, making sure there wasn't a white van

at the end of my street. Part two. Ultimately, by the time the end of my last day of my school year rolled around eight days later, I'd pretty much begun to move on with my life, and the whole thing was becoming a creepy tale that maybe I could share one day as an anecdote among friends, while sitting around a campfire or a table in a bar. On this particular day, my mum was still on a 12-12 shift at the hospital, and my dad was working away again out of town.

Again, I'm sure a lot of people may read this, and be picturing me as some poor neglected kid with two parents more concerned about their careers and after-work drinks with colleagues, well, that couldn't be further from the truth. My parents taught me to be independent from an early age, and I was always trusted to look after myself. This allowed my parents to go do what they needed to do to make sure I had everything I needed. Up until this event, the insane rollercoaster that followed, I always felt I had a great upbringing, and I'm so grateful for both my parents. And as it was a Friday, and the holidays had begun,

Mom said my friends, who we'll call Jessica, could stay over. Jessica and I had left school that day after saying goodbye to our classmates for six whole weeks. We didn't take the usual route home, however. You see, one of our other friends was being picked up by her mum, being the kind of woman she was, she offered us a ride. They lived on the street behind our house, and there happened to be a small, convenient footpath through the trees in between the adjoining gardens that we could easily cut across to my backyard.

It was raining and we didn't fancy waiting for the pretty unreliable school bus in the cold. This meant also me, Jess and our friend Daisy could also finalise our plans for us through meeting up over the summer holidays in a comfortable and warm Audi Q5. We obviously snatched the offer up. We entered my house through the back porch via my sliding patio doors and started the usual girly sleepover stuff you did at that age. We rated the cupboards for crisps and sweets to take up to my room for a movie-mer. marathon of mean girls, Angus Dongs, and John Tugamus Die. I remember every detail from that night, for better or worse. The hours flew by, and I was honestly enjoying our time together. Watching movies whilst talking to our crushes on MSN and leaving sassy comments on our

crushes MySpace, we were living the pre-teen dream. It had gotten to around 10pm and the sun was now down on our quiet suburban community, settled under a warm, dark blanket of summer night. We look down to find our snack balls are empty Well, I said I'd go get some more cheesy Doritos And sweet and salty popcorn Being a good host and all However, Jessica being the bubbly sprite that she was Said she'd go get them

She needed to use the bathroom anyway, she insisted Now I should note that our upstairs toilet Had a tendency to stab you in the back When it came to flushing I don't imagine she wanted to risk the embarrassment And the mix of sugar-rich, fizzy drinks And processed salty snacks had clearly taken its toll in her stomach.

I didn't want to make things weird for her, so gladly handed her my bowl. She hopped off the bed and walked to the doorway, and turned sharply to the right and made her way down the hall. However, just before she stuck out of sight behind where the bedroom doorhinges fixed to the landing wall, she could pause for a second to look back at me. She gave me a smile. I'm not entirely sure what the motivation behind it was,

but it was a warm one, and I reciprocated. I think we were just sharing a strong bond of closeness, and we were both feeling the euphoria at the fact the school holidays have begun. Two thirty-year-olds with a house to themselves with six weeks of school-free summertime ahead. Everything going for us and everything to look forward to. We wouldn't want to crack a smile, eh? We weren't the most popular kids by any stretch, but that didn't matter, not to us. We had each other and a few other close friends.

Our circle was certainly small, but that was more than enough for us. We and Jessica in particular were especially close. She was more like a sister to me. We've been friends since I can remember my first memory. She was loyal to the core and I was to her. We were inseparable and people also often mistook us with each other. We'd always looked alike and, due to being so close, we tended to wear similar clothes and have her hair done the same way,

almost like twins. In fact, I think it was only a few weeks before this event took place. I started doing my hair in pigtails. to at least try and stand out from Jessica, but it was useless. Other than her being a little bigger than me, we were pretty much identical. Jessica's warm smile remained on her face until she moved out of sight and proceeded to make her way downstairs. Once she left my sight, I convinced myself to scoge down to the bottom of my bed

from the comfy position I was in, or relaxed in the nest we'd made for ourselves from my pillows, duvet, and the corner of my room where my wall met my headport. I guess pausing the film seemed the least I could do for Jessica since she was grabbing the snacks and everything. The remote was set on my bedroom window sill, which was situated upside the space between the foot of my bed and the TV in the corner of my room. My vision locked onto the item as I shimmied on my butt down the bed. I grabbed the remote, pause the movie, turned to replace it, as I lifted my head and broke eye lock with the remote for the first time. well that's when I saw it, the top 30 centimetres of a white Ford transit van, discreet and innocuous,

yet all the while unmistakable and nefarious. I once again attempted my previous trick and began closing my eyes tightly and rubbing them with my fingers in the desperate attempt to wait myself up from what now seemed like a recurring nightmare. I put everything into the process, including a little prayer that I was dreaming for good measure, Hoping that this yielded the same results as it had done earlier in the week, but this time no matter how many times I repeated this, it never worked. Every time I unclenched my eyes,

I could still just make out the top of that Ford Transit white van from just over my neighbour's garden hedge. This was getting real, and I felt my breathing increase. Oh, crap, no way, I whimpered in disbelief. I was frozen in a state of denial and rationalisation, trying to fight off the surge of pure terror that was threatened to erupt from within me. The realisation hit me in the face like a bat, that if in fact this was the van, the same van from last week,

then Dave would not be far away. I tried desperately to convince myself this was just another van, desperately looking for differences in size, colour or shape. But I couldn't. It was the same. The same make, the same model, and I knew, I just knew by the way it was parked, exactly how it was that day Dave had jumped inside it to make his getaway,

parted just around the left corner to the entrance of my cul-de-sac. What was hitting me now was an unwanted case of deja vu. I was looking on in shock when the van, as if sensing I'd noticed it, suddenly burst alive. The engine fired and began to tick over, and its headlights unleashed their rays like a sleeping animal being awoken. And then, to my horror, it began to creep slowly around the corner

and made its way onto my street. My eyes wouldn't look away. I watched it pull up directly in the middle of my cul-de-sac, side door aimed at the front of my house, lined up almost perfectly with a symbol at the bottom of the drive. Red flag number one.

I looked for the license plate. There wasn't one. Red flag number two. The side door of the van snapped out of the closed position, and the door slid backwards approximately ten inches, revealing a preview of the dark abyss from within the vehicle. And then, from that very abyss, I noticed the third and final red flag. A black-gloved hand protruded from the darkness to place its palm on the edge of the door and began to carefully, as if not wanting to make too much noise, slide it open further.

All this made me snap out of my days for the first time and my senses came back to me. I needed to get down and make sure the doors were locked, as I couldn't remember if me and Jessica had locked the patio doors behind us when we'd come in. Jeez, we've been so busy laughing and giggling about school and other stuff that maybe we'd forgotten. I needed to get her upstairs, barricade my room and call my mom. I was just inhaling enough air into my already pulsating lungs, so I could shout out of her name loud enough for her to. to hear me when I heard a noise. I honestly couldn't tell you what it was specifically, a simple,

loud, sharp bang followed by a series of slightly quiet, dull sounds. My blood had turned to pure ice. I couldn't comprehend the fear and terror that I was feeling right then. I spent the last eight days suppressing that horrific feeling when the man I knew as Dave showed me knife, but now it was back, worse than ever. I knew this wasn't good. I crept down the hallway to the beginning of my landing where the stairs meet the upstairs hallway and the wall opposite my bedroom turns to a wooden banister. This allowed me to peek at a section of my downstairs area. I held my breath long enough so I could concentrate on trying to hear. There were no more noises, no loud bangs, just silence. Horrible, deafening silence.

The only noise I could hear was the sound of my heartbeat pounding away in my eardrums. "'Jessica!' I managed to whisper, taking another two baby steps forward to increase my vantage point. This revealed my front door, ajar, with a chain hanging free, a jagged piece of the doorframe swung on from its limp hand. "'Jess!' my voice now broke in a desperate prayer for her to answer me back. Nothing was coming back to me, though. That's where I saw the soiled bootprints, heading into the kitchen leading to a half bowl of cheesy Doritos spread all over the floor.

Most of them crushed as if they'd been trampled on. The bootprints led in from the front door into the kitchen where the mess could be seen, and then they retreated back out of the house. I looked around, and the scene began to register in my mind and play out like a Crime Watch reconstruction video. I pictured the door being kicked open. the chain breaking. I then saw a man with fresh mud from our garden

make his way into our house, leaving the footprints as he entered and left. I imagined Jessica dropping the bowl of chips after being startled by the door being burst open, the dritos spilling on the kitchen floor. Finally, it was the image of the man grabbing Jessica and placing his gloved hand over a mouth and dragging her out to my front door

that made me realise there and then that my best friend was gone. I was frozen, trying once again pathetically to wake myself up. This couldn't be real. Things like this don't happen to people like me. I'm just a normal kid. These were the thoughts flying through my brain.

Glité, I know, but when an event like this happens, I can tell you now, it really is something that your head can't get around. It seems like hours have passed, but it was probably only really 90 seconds before I eventually accepted that what had happened and told myself I had to act fast. I ran back to my room to get my phone, toes slipping off the end of every other step as I frantically tried to get to a place of safety.

As I was trying to dar my mom's number, fighting the uncontrollable shakes in my nerves and trying to ride the overwhelming surge of adrenaline, I looked out of my window. The van is now gone. I sat in my room with the door shut and my chest of drawers pulled down alongside my wall to act as a deadlock on the door and sat with my back against it. Feet against my bed for leverage. Nothing was coming in while I had anything to do with it. My mom had instructed me to stay put and keep safe while she'd call people who needed to be called. She promised me she'd be there soon and everything was going to be okay.

I couldn't tell over the phone if she really believed that. My dad, the police and Jessica's parents were all notified by my mom as I sat hyperventilating in the middle of my room, eyes locked on the barricaded door. Jessica's mom knew all about my mom's working hours and knew that me and her would be home alone that night. She was fine with it, as both our moms knew how mature we were for our ages. But even so, I don't know how my mom managed to break the news that a man had come in the middle of the night and taken her only child. The police arrived first, through my bedroom door.

An officer addressed himself. Olivia Matthews, my name's Detective Paul McKinley, and from the police department. We've had a call from your mom. About your friend, can you come out, please? I didn't trust him right away. I asked him to prove who he was. He gladly obliged and responded by telling me my mum's name what she did for a living.

He also advised me to take a look outside my window. I'd pull my wardrobe across my window frame for extra security, so I didn't notice the flashing blue lights of the police response team right outside my house. I took this as validation that he was in fact a policeman and not the man coming back for me and conning his way into my bedroom. I spent the next 15 minutes being comforted by Detective McKinley

downstairs on the couch until my mom and Jessica's parents got there. They arrived at almost the same time with my dad arriving 30 minutes later. He'd abruptly left his work site as soon as he'd heard from my mom. Jessica's mom, oh, geez, she looked broken. She'd always been a very bubbly person, just like her daughter, and she was kind of like one of the girls in a lot of the ways.

I'd always enjoyed her company anyway. I imagined if this night had never happened, and she would have been the type of mum who would have taken us both for brunch to talk about men and gossip when we reached our later teens, but I knew from the minute she walked through my front door on that night that the woman would never be the same again.

The sheer agony on her face from her panic and a threat over her daughter's fate was enough to make me want to vomit. I honestly didn't recognise her. The detective wanted my mum to be present before I gave my statement. I guessed it was a combination of protocol and wanting to keep me calm

to give an accurate account of the night's events. My mom was sat with her arm around me, telling me it was okay and to tell them what happened, encouraging me that anything I could remember at all would be useful. I really didn't know where to begin. So it took a moment, took a deep breath, and told the detective,

I know who did this, I know who's got jealous. Jessica. This made Jessica's mom snap out of her pale, shaking days, and made her eyes explode open. She made a beeline towards me. What? Who has her? She demanded it to know.

The rest of the parents and please stared at me with gazes that matched her words. So I composed myself once more, and thought back in my bind as best I could. It started with the day I'd gotten off the bus and encountered the man who caught himself Dave. I told them everything I could remember. remember, starting with a description of Dave, how he tried to force his way into my home, how he made me feel, the symbol, the van, everything. Jessica went to get snacks, and I saw his van drive under my street. I knew he was back, so I went to warn her that she needed to get upstairs, but it was too late.

I started to cry then. He was already in the house, and he dragged her outside and into his van. Please, I've told you everything I know about him. please go and arrest him. Detective McKinley assured me that my description has already been forwarded to the station for a desk team to go through the database and look for suspects that matched my description of the unsub,

which they were calling the white van man at this time. McKinley and a few of the uniformed officers went to go door to door to see if there were any witnesses of the abduction. A couple of family liaison officers came by to sit with us and tried to comfort Jessica's parents. They were both really nice. A man and a woman, respectively. A man was a really young, soft-spoken individual,

who clearly had a lot of experience with traumatised children. He walked me and my parents through the process of this criminal investigation and what would likely follow tonight's initial inquiries. The other stayed with Jessica's parents. I imagine going over similar things. What happened next? I don't think anyone in the room expected, especially Detective McKinley.

He'd come back after an hour of canvassing the surrounding neighbourhoods for witnesses with a disappointed look on his face. No one in the area had seen anything, and the station had encountered some technical issues while trying to get back to him with an ID on the white van man. Time was of the essence in these cases. His calming, confident detective routine had slipped, and he'd now begun to grill me more like a man who was desperate for a win in a dwindling career. He had a frustrated and impatient tone to his questions now, and the wanting me calm approach was long gone. I could smell the booze on his breath when he yelled too. I started to feel uncomfortable around him, and my mum felt it too. Things were about to get heated when they arrived. Two sharply dressed men followed by a team in matching polo shirts

carrying technical equipment. They addressed themselves as the FBI. One of the agents, who was called Johnson, Tom McKinney at this case, was under the jurisdiction of the major violent crimes Department of the FBI. And the other agent, Rodriguez, who was obviously second in command, told him that his officers were to debrief their team immediately and hand over all statements and progress reports and make their way back to the office for reassignment. McKinley was outraged. I didn't get why at the time.

I just thought, hey, what's your problem, dude? You go home and chill in front of the TV. What are you moaning about? But I've seen enough police stations now to know this guy needed to prove his use. and likely his drinking had him on thin ice with his superiors. I learned later on that he was being forced into early retirement after this assignment, and he wasn't being reassigned. I imagine he believed cracking a high-profile case like an abduction and the rescue of a white,

upper-class family's only child may have saved his job, but I don't imagine he would have attended many AA meetings after this setback. He was a, this job is all I got type of cop. Well, that's the impression I got. after McKinley and his team had left, the FBI tech team set up a glistening and recording device on our landline phone, while the agents in charge studied my statement in grave detail before they both went out to the street to study the symbol at the foot of the drive. I managed to catch a glimpse. They had a look not that different from Dave's when he'd seen it,

that blank, empty stare as if wishing it was literally anything but what they were actually looking at. I saw them instruct a few guys to take snaps at the drawing with a simple whistle and point whilst they came back inside. They informed us that it was possible the kidnappers would make contact, and they were right. Around 12.30 a.m., our landline rang. The agent's signal for my mum to answer the phone. My mum looked confused and asked why her,

seeing as Jessica was the kidnapped victim, so likely her mum would be more susceptible to paying the ransom. Agent Johnson dismissed her question and told her it would be for her. At this point, I could tell my dad and Jessica's parents knew the agents knew something we didn't. The FBI were definitely keeping something from us. The tech activated the tape recorder and placed on a big set of headphones over his ears before nodding at Agent Rodriguez, who then gave my mom a similar cue to answer the phone. She picked up.

Hello? My mom managed. At this stage we couldn't hear the man on the other end of the phone, but I could just imagine Dave in his confident glip tone. Yes, this is she. How do you know my name? She let the man talk for a minute or so. And her breathing started to increase rapidly as the man talked to her before she erupted. You can go to hell, you psychopathic piece of shit.

There's no way you're having my daughter. I had no idea what the man was saying, but it caused my mum to look Jessica's business. parents sway with a torn look on her face. You monster, you won't get away with this. There's no way I'm handing my daughter over to you. Her voice rose from a quiver to a loud, angry crescendo. She slammed the receiver down and ran her hand through her hair and massaged her neck in one smooth, continuous motion.

Now the phone call was over. She started to avoid eye contact with Jessica's parents. Agent Johnson was asking the tech to try and run a trace on the call, whilst my mum got her bearings together. Once she calmed down, she broke the news to Jessica's parents and my father about the contents of the call. I was right. Jessica was not the target of the kidnapping.

I was. This person had been watching me for weeks and had tried to abduct me tonight, knowing my mom wasn't at home. The only hiccup was they mistook Jessica for me. They were asking my mum to bring me to a designated location and have me traded for Jessica. We had two hours to bring me or there would be consequences for Jessica and our families. As if sensing the eruption of a motion to come, Greg, the aforementioned male FLO, took me out of the room and asked me to show him my bedroom so we could make sure it was safe. I knew this was some

sort of bullshit excuse to get me out of the room, so I didn't hear mine and Jessica's parents literally screaming at each other, arguing about whether my mum should be handing me over to those monsters. My mom told me days after that Jessica's mom had gone a little crazy, saying, if it should have been me, then I should do the right thing and go. Let Jessica come home, and then my mom would be wondering what those animals are doing to her little girl. Apparently my mom slapped her and they got into it. Took a few agents to pull them apart, by all accounts. I started to get upset the more I thought about the situation.

Greg? Yes. Why me? I asked. Greg looked torn by my question and responded with, I'm sorry, Olivia. I can't say, unfortunately, but I have a feeling the agents will let everyone know what's going on real soon.

Why not? I counted. Well, this is a very complicated situation, and let's just say the law can be tricky at times. I can't say any more on it. I'm just here to make sure you and your parents are okay. His response has generated more questions than answers, in all honesty, but I could tell I was, backing him into a corner. I let him be, and we spent the next hour putting my room back together,

whilst making sure there wasn't a boogeyman in my closet, proverbial or actual. We read it for the animosity downstairs to calm down. The other FLO called us down after an hour, and I walked down my stairs to mine and Jessica's parents all sat on my couch, with Agent Johnson stood up in front of them, like a teacher in front of his students. I took his seat in between my parents, and they both looked down at me with a reassuring smile, as if to tell me I was, wasn't going anywhere. They knew I'd likely heard the outburst from upstairs. Not that I ever thought my mum would agree to trade me. Nevertheless, I still appreciated it. Agent Johnson spoke. Okay, guys, what I'm about to tell you is strictly confidential. You are now part of one of the

largest ongoing criminal investigations in North America. As he was talking, Agent Rodriguez handed out some documents. I'm going to need each of you to read and sign the bottom. before I go any further. We or dared without hesitation, but not without noticing the section that stated if we breathed a word about this to anyone outside the FBI, that we would be prosecuted to the full extent of the law. We didn't care, though. We just wanted to know what was going on.

So, who took Jessica? Was it the man who grabbed me last week? Was it Dave? I asked boldly. Agent Johnson didn't say a word. instead he continued looking at Agent Rodriguez, waiting for confirmation that we'd all sign the non-disclosure agreement. Rodriguez continued to review the paperwork,

or my dad blurted out a question. The police were here before, or their desk team or whatever. Well, they were looking for someone. Have you had a lead? Rodriguez remained flicking through papers, and Johnson continued watching him. My mom backed up my dad's question with. "'Yeah, they were.

"'White van man. "'Who is he? "'You know, don't you?' "'Finally, Rodriguez held the stack of papers in both hands "'and knocked them back into an even pile "'by firmly tapping the bottom of the NDA forms "'against his thighs three times "'before sliding them back into a briefcase and locking it tight.

"'He turned and nodded at Agent Johnson, "'who turned back to face us. "'White van, men, plural. The agent said bluntly. He let what he'd said sink in and used our stunned silence as an opportunity to continue his explanation. The people who we believe have Jessica

are a large group of dangerous individuals that we've been chasing for a long time now. Part three. I wasn't sure if what he'd said had really gotten through to my traumatized mind, so I jumped in and interrupted. Men, but people, I questioned. not letting him get a response in before going off on a tangent.

No, it's not a group. It's just one guy. He said his name was Dave. He tried to tame me last week, and now he came back to finish the job, but he took Jess instead, and it's all my fault. Please, you have to find him and get her back, please. I started to get frustrated. Time was running out, and we didn't have time to spare.

In all honesty, I felt like I was responsible for not letting my parents know about Dave in the first place, so I was desperate to get Jess home safe. Agent Johnson held his hand up dismissively to calm my outburst and made sure I was listening before he continued. The man you described, he sighed in what felt like a bit of shame. His name isn't Dave. His name is Damien, Damien Ramsey. He took another pause and sighed again as if trying to find the words

whilst his gaze was aimed at the floor. He is a criminal informant of the beauty. Our eyes all widened. This was getting more and more bizarre. My mom went ballistic, as you can imagine, saying that this man tried to force his way into our home last week to do God only knows what to me, and now we find out he works for the FBI? She was appalled and outraged, but my father managed to settle her down. He, as well as everyone else, wanted to know more. The agent waited for the room to settle again before he continues. He's a real piece of work, no doubt. He was originally a part of the gang were investigating. They're known as the swarm.

I couldn't help but think back to the butterfly symbol when he said their name, and a knot tightened in my gut. They are a ruthless, clandestine network of human traffickers, who were responsible for a large percentage of violent crime all over the southeastern portion of the country. Kidnappings, child abductions, murders, online torture, extortion, blackmail, you name it. He sighed once again and took on a more defeated look the more he delved in on the subject. They've kidnapped over 700 people, some as young as 18 months. That's just what we know of.

The victims are mainly traded for large amounts of money to some of the sickest people on the planet. The others who aren't sold off are often sent to the worst red rooms on the dark web. In some of the more high-profile cases, they've slaughtered entire families just acquiring their target. I, along with everyone else, listened with pure disgust. I really thought it was bad Jessica being taken by this Ramsey character, but, oh, my God, this was becoming so much worse. The agent spoke again. These monsters don't stop there.

Not everyone who gets taken is made into torture or snuff videos, or traded to grooming gangs or satanic cults. We've had some instances where rich kids have been kidnapped, and horrific videos and images have been center of the family with the sole purpose of extorting money. Jessica's mom gasped and a little more of her soul left her body as her imagination tortured her already fragile mind. So what was this Ramsey character doing trying to assault my daughter if he's a government asset? My mom blurted out in a rage.

Well, Ramsey was what we call a spotter for the swarm. He would identify and stalk potential targets that seemed lucrative. You know the type. home-alowners, terrorways, runaways. He's a clever, sadistic psychopath. He knew the area well, and he sold information on targets to these bastards. These people would be trafficked, and he also knew of people who scout for rich families

to extort and blackmail by threatening their loved ones. Ramsey himself was not a fully-fledged member of the swarm, but he knew how they worked, so he could tell us the gang would scout kids that they could potentially snatch before obtaining photographs, so to advertise the target on the secret online forums the group use. If these adverts are met by a buyer's specific tastes, then the buyer would then offer to pay an obscene amount of money

to the gang for delivery of the target. The way he said that word, made the parents in the room recoil with nausea. And believe me, it gets worse. With Ramsey's information, we've discovered that these buyers aren't what or who you'd think they'd be. He bit his bottom lip and clasped his hands together as if anticipating the impact of what he was going to say next. They aren't mentally disturbed sex offenders.

The buyers are goddamn CEOs, judges, senators, politicians. Geez, we even have some circumstantial evidence, some high-ranking cops were involved. We believe this organized group have direct links to some of the country's most rich and powerful elite. This is why this investigation is top secret and any links to it at all have to be kept internal. We have assets in the field who we need to keep safe.

We couldn't believe how dark this was all turning. I could tell everyone was having a hard time grasping the reality of it all. Most of the members of the group tend to be extremely violent and all of the high-ranking ones have a lot of sociopathic tendencies, but ultimately, together, they are well-organized units, with a strong hierarchy in place, and I'll do anything to further their interests. However, Ramsey, well, he was different.

He didn't care about the money or the power. That sick bastard had a taste for the young ones himself. He didn't always just hand over the information, and he often used his line of work to satisfy his own twisted needs. His arrogance eventually got him in some personal trouble with the law. He was arrested on suspicion of the rape and murder of a five-year-old boy in Atlanta a few years back. Oh boy, we had DNA evidence, damning CCTV footage. We had that bastard dead to rights, literally.

And Georgia has the death penalty. And he said this like a soccer player who just missed a last-minute penalty. Agent Johnson's contempt for the man started to show as he continued with the story. We were literally about to charge him when he got this smug look on his face. That stupid face of his. He turned and says to me, with this real superficial arrogance that made me want to snap his neck right then and there. I knew the tone of voice he was talking about. So assured, like he was invincible.

Now Agent Johnson did his best to replicate Ramsey's broad Georgia accent. You just wear the cut and pick in minute there, agent. What if I could give you the biggest winner your pathetic career? He cares about one little toddler, who, let's face it, was begging for what he got anyway. I could mean. you the biggest cat in the alley, Agent Johnson. So, we agreed to drop the charges in regards to the child, in return for his cooperation and information that aided our ongoing investigation into this organized crime syndicate. When Johnson finished, he almost took on the look of Jessica's mom.

He looked defeated. He'd sold out this little boy who'd suffered horribly at the hands of this animal for nothing, but a few cheap wins. A few bad apples had faced charges But the tree, so to speak, was still standing The swarm was still out there Ruining people's lives In our defense

He gave a lot of information on the gang's methods Sites they used on the deep web Places they would trade their livestock As he called them High-profile buyers and so on We're a lot more aware of their presence Than we were three years ago We were able to solve a lot of cold cases

thanks to his insights. He knew dates, places, people, numbers, sights, accomplices. He was a goddamn goldman and a hundred percent untouchable, and the son of a bitch knew it. He never told us everything at once. He always held stuff back as insurance for him against future convictions. His gaze met mine when he said that last sentence. I now understood why he was so bold with me that day.

He never once looked as if being caught bothered him. Ramsey went on to secure a Witzek agreement, and we moved him to this area, safe house, immunity, new identity, the works. But we've come to learn one thing tonight, when it comes to the people who are dealing with here, there ain't no such thing as immunity. At that time I wasn't sure what that last comment meant, but the agent continued before I could ask what he was talking about. We've had multiple reports of his behaviour since it became a CI. Just minor stuff until today. Public indecency, assault, drug charges. However, any police reports or inquiries on him automatically set off a federal tripwire

and the files became immediately encrypted to anyone except the Bureau. This is to protect the identity and our investigation. Agent Rodriguez piped up for the first time, rising from his seat at our dining room table with a blue folder in his hand, stamped classified in contrasting blood red ink. We first became aware of tonight's events earlier today, a police report that was filed by a neighbor on the adjacent street eight days ago. He reported a man matching Ramsey's description being dragged into the side door of a white Ford transit earlier today

by two men dressed in all black with what he described as creepy-ass Easter bunny masks. Agent Rodriguez backed up the FBI's theory by pulling out a photo from the blue file to show the adults in the room. Greg, after receiving a non-verbal cue from Johnson, distracted me when this was happening by asking me to help him with his iPhone. I knew it was some other bullshit made-up issue again, but I helped him anyway. I knew now that whatever was being shown was bad. The image, whatever it was, made Jessica's mum gasp, burying her face into her husband's embrace.

She broke once again into a sobbing shriek. After placing the photo away and closing the folder, he continued giving the account of the neighbor's police report on Ramsey's kidnapping. He said the van had been lingering in the area with the engine running, and the neighbor thought it looked suspicious, as he'd noticed the van had kept showing up in the area over the past week, but no one ever got in or out, and there was no road words going on in the area at the time to explain his presence.

We believe karma and the swarm, finally caught up with Ramsey. We're not sure if they came here to find Ramsey and found Olivia, or if they came to take Olivia and caught Rams in the act. By the way, he belongs to them now. I'd have sympathy for the guy, but maybe now that kid in Atlanta finally has some justice. And Rodriguez immediately realized that last comment likely wouldn't go down well with Jessica's parents,

and I noticed he was deliberately maintaining eye contact with Agent Johnson and Agent Johnson alone. He realized he'd just planted a pretty nasty seed in their already fractured minds about the fate of people who are telling. taken by these animals. Oh, and in case you are wondering, I asked my mum about the photograph. Mom told me a few days after this event that the photo was a screenshot from a video found

on a memory stick that was delivered to a wealthy family's home two years ago. It had been taken into evidence during a high-profile kidnapping of two young kids, and the image sounded horrified. You showed two terrified six-year-olds, sat on a couch with black tape across their own. mouths. In between the two kids had a man in all black clothes with his arms around the two boys in a non-threatening way. She said it would have been just like my father would put his arms around me and mum in our family photos. But this man wore a mask, a pink Easter bunny mask. The ears pointed straight up and flopped over just before the top. Totally regular, but it was the eyes. They were

pure evil. They were the type of eyes that drain all sense of safety away from you when you look into them. A threatening, horrifying glare that my mum said she still sees from the shadows of a bedroom at night. In front of the couch was a table. On the table there was an array of tools, screwdrivers, drills, scalples, pliers, bolt cutters. My mom continued to go into gut-wrenching detail about the wounds the kids had before I asked her to stop and she gladfully obliged. Once again, we hugged and said we loved each other. We seem to do that a lot these days. Agent Johnson continued his story, but I noticed Rodriguez received a call that he'd clearly been eagerly waiting for.

He answered it with haste and left the room to speak. I had a question. When, I mean Ramsey, when Ramsey was trying to get into my house, he got spooked by a drawing on our drive. I saw you two looking at it earlier. What is it? I asked. Agent Johnson closed his eyes and nodded his head as if to signal he was just about to explain that before I interrupted him. The symbol at the bottom of your drive is the gang's brand.

The symbol is a butterfly. You see in the world of child sex trading, it symbolizes that a buyer is into very young girls. With this being the gang's niche, we can only assume that this is the origin of the symbol, hence the name the swarm. We tend to find this symbol branded on. to the victim's bodies a lot. Branded, like with a hot iron, Jessica's dad piped up, and he immediately wished he hadn't

because Agent Johnson reluctantly nodded, and Jessica's mum's spirit broke again. Our working hypothesis is that the gang came to town for business or to look for Ramsey. Whilst here, maybe Olivia caught someone's eye. He walks home alone to an empty house. She looks young for her age. All the stuff that makes these sickos see dollar signs.

They would have obtained a photo or video, and advertised it on a buyer's forum on the hidden web or black market this gang use. They'll have received an offer from a buyer, so then they'll have begun to arrange the snatch. They'll have been watching the Matthews' house for a few days after, to figure out your work schedules and your neighbor's schedules and so on, fighting the best time to strike.

When everything is set up and a date is set, this is when they spray the symbol on the drive of the house. This is to signal to the snatchers which is the house of the target. They use the yellow so it can be easily seen in the dark. In rare cases, it's also to claim the target too, worn off other interested parties and avoid conflicts of ownership with a rival outfit. I'll be frank though, not many guys like to piss off the swarm.

Well, I didn't doubt that for one second. We believe the snatchers were here to take Olivia the day when Ramsey was trying to get into your house. They must have spotted him with you and waited for him to take you inside, where they could have nailed two birds with one stone. But he noticed the symbol and then flared the scene after realizing the gang could be watching. That stupid son of a bitch walked right into their grasp. Agent Johnson, despite knowing his best source of information into the gang was now likely being branded with 256 degree hot metal

and being mutilated with sharp tools by a bunch of psychotic Easter bunnies couldn't help but replicate the expression of satisfaction Rodriguez had displayed earlier when they thought of the horrific things Ramsey was having done to him for betraying the swarm. I could tell he really felt better for the boy Ramsey had killed in Atlanta. His current situation now gave him a bit of peace. What goes around truly does come back around. Agent Rodriguez re-entered the room and blurted. We're on.

I'm heading down now. I'll check in soon with a status update. Looks like we don't need Ramsey after all. We could get these bastards tonight. He gave this information with a slight head nod full of positivity. I couldn't help feel my hopes of seeing Jessica alive again flutter upwards for the first time all night. I looked at the clock. We had around 15 minutes before the deadline to trade me for Jess was up.

"'So what happens now? "'What are you going to do to get my jesspatch?' "'Jessica's mom erupted after pulling herself together. "'Well, we've been trying to trace the cell number the gang called on "'to try and locate Jessica, but it's taken a little longer than anticipated. "'However, our surveillance team have been in position at the warehouse "'where the caller told us the switch would go down. "'Two minutes ago, a white van matched in the description of your statement pulled up.

"'We're just waiting for the golden approval from our strategic firearms commander to move in and take down the men at the drop. We need the order in case we need to use lethal force. Rodriguez is on his way down now, so if they brought Jessica to the meet, we'll have her back home soon. I promise you guys.

I could tell he was trying to convince himself as much as he was anyone else, but something really didn't feel right to me. When me and my mum taught this over, a few days later, she told me she'd had exactly the same worry. This gang of evaded kids, capture for years and sounded as if they have the local police networks potentially in their pockets. There was no way arresting them and getting Jessica back was going to be as simple as they made out.

The silence and tension in the room was killing me, so I asked Agent Johnson a question in private that I really wished I kept to myself. What's so special about me, agent? Me and Jessica are always being mistook for the other. People say we're like twins. Why are they so desperate to trade me for her? What's the difference? I knew it was a selfish question on the bare face of it, but I was genuinely curious at this point.

I looked at my mum for approval to answer honestly. She nodded. Yes, the fact you and Jessica lookalike meant they grabbed her instead of you in the dog by mistake. They wouldn't have known she was in the house, as you entered through the bad garden today, according to your initial statement, and the van always watched the front. On the recording, the man said that they presented the buyer with a video of Jess after the mix-up, but he said he looked too old and was too much on the bigger side. He wanted you because you looked ripe, and wore pigtails well.

It had to be you or no deal. That made me feel sick. My mom should a look at Agent Johnson to scold him for being a little too honest with the wording of things. Agent Johnson did his best to pull back his error in judgment by adding that, likely if I was the one to go downstairs, and they'd try to take me, then maybe they could have killed Jeff. to make sure there were no loose ends. He added that if I was the one who'd been taken,

I'd be being traded as we speak, and there'd be no opportunity to save me like we have with Jessica right now. I could tell he wasn't the best when dealing with younger people, so I humoured him and acted as if actually seeing the bright side of the situation. I could tell he felt better, and we smiled at each other. I could tell he felt as though he'd done a good job with the way he gave me and my mum a friendly wink. I think, well, I still think, till they still think,

to this day that Agent Johnson was a good man. Our brief light-hearted moment was blown apart by Agent Johnson's radio handset, crackling to life. Agents down. I repeat, agents are down. Status zero. They're dead. They're all dead. I repeat, status zero. Everyone in the house just dropped what they were doing and focused on the harrowing dialogue

coming through the device in Agent Johnson's trembling hand. I could tell he was trying to remain calm for our benefit. Rodriguez, what's happening? Where are the targets? Where is the go? The five seconds of silence felt like hours as we all crowded around waiting the news. That's a goddamn massacre, Johnson. The van was a goddamn diversion.

There's four bodies here, two in the front seat of the surveillance van, and the vehicle is on fire. God, he's blown to shit. He took a moment to cough the smoke out of his lungs before he finished the update. The other two were laying face down in the dirt by Vantyr Marks. My God, their throats have been slit wide open. Jeez, it's a goddamn bloodbath, Bill. Jesus Christ, come on, Jack. Damn, no pulse.

Judging by Agent Johnson's facial expressions, he'd come to a horrific realization. Four bodies? There was a team of five. Where's the fifth man? Oh, God damn. Daniels. Agent Daniels, if you hear, make yourself known. Agent, that's an order.

Both agent's tones were panicky, desperate and short of breath. For the first time tonight, I feel the two men truly empathised with what Jessica's parents were feeling. Now I'm older. I have my own theory about what happened to the surveillance team that night outside the warehouse. I imagine the gang had no intentions of making a trade and Jess was never with them. They wanted to lure me to the sight under the fire. false sense of security being under FBI escort. They likely had a unit already in place to take out anyone at the meet, and they were planning to take me by force, whilst tie up a lot of loose ends at the same time. Agent Johnson did

in fact say it would be their sort of M. I believe the gang had seen the surveillance team arrive and park up. They then waited. When the time was right, they drove the van into the middle of the dirt road outside the warehouse as a diversion. A group of men armed with weapons laying and wait inside the vehicle. Once the FBI got the golden approval from the SFC, three armed agents got out of the FBI vehicle and approached the van with guns drawn.

At this time, another group of swarm members attacked the vehicle with a Molotov cocktail or grenade. The hot explosion and the sound of their colleagues screaming in agony, pulling at their burning skin and clothes, caused the men approaching the van to turn their back on it. This gave the group in the van a chance

to jump out and kill two of the three federal agents and kidnap the other. I guess we'll never know what truly happened, but after five years of going over it in my head, that's the most plausible scenario I can think of. There was maybe an hour or so that passed by since the incident, mainly filled by Jessica's mum screaming at the agents, wailing and shrieking, asking where a little girl was and what they were doing to get her back. Agent Johnson's superior then called him to lose his shit, and asked him what an earth had

possessed two decorated agents to send a team of just five people. people to take down the most dangerous organized crime group in North America. Johnson attempted to justify his actions by saying too many agents may have got them detected by the gang and cost them their chance of taking them down and saving Jessica. I would have felt bad for the guy if not trying to pull my head out of oblivion. The realization I was never going to see my best friend again was a blow I wasn't ready for. When people asked me what the darkest time of my life was, It was this hour.

The uncertainty. The waiting. The time between learning our last hope to get my friend back was gone and awaiting to hear what had become of the hard-working agent who was doing his job. And, of course, my best friend who had never done anything other than be nice to everyone she'd ever met. The anxiety and dread pulled my insides into knots that I never thought could be undone. And then, our landline phone rang, the same process as before, with the tech guys setting up the recording and listening devices whilst once again attempting

to trace the call. Only this time Agent Johnson picked up the phone and he wasn't in the mood for games. Where is my agent? You hand them both over now and we can talk about a deal. You heard either one of them and I promise I will pursue you to the full extent of my ability with the entire backing of the Federal Bureau of Investigation. The only headset was being worn by one of the FBI's profilers. so Agent Rodriguez hit the speaker button so we could hear the man's words and what he was saying about the missing agent I look back now and wished he hadn't done that

what I heard over the next seven minutes is forever burned into my head a drawn-out Virginian accent came over the speaker now come on agent you've been doing that for three years now and you're still seen as a failure in your department and we're still going strong. Not even that little rat you had working for you could help you.

You give me back my agent and the girl, you sick bastards. Johnson snapped. A clown-like cackle burst from the speaker. Well, ain't that cute. You allowed a child being raped and murdered to go unpunished, just so you could further your investigations. You call us the masters? Typical lawman.

I couldn't help but sympathise as I could tell this struck Agent Johnson's nerves. In a sense the man was right. It was hard to defend the hypocrisy of the justice system at times. Johnson had traded the life of the boy Ramsey killed for a tick in the wing column in his investigation. I knew Agent Johnson had been haunted by what he did for a long time. He barely had a comeback. And besides, we way past making deals. We gave you a chance to make a deal

Girl for the girl and you try to trap us So now you're gonna feel the consequences of your actions The man took a pause and said something that made all our hearts wrench And then we're gonna come get the one we want Whatever means necessary We're dumb pussyfooting around and we got a lot riding on that little girl you got there She's just what our guy wants my mum and dad helped me as if to give me some sort of feeling of being safe

Jessica's mum looked at us and I swear I saw her look for Jessica to give her the same reassuring hug and when she grabbed nothing but air for the tenth time today I saw her spirit break that little bit more another pause and a few inaudible noises before we heard the agonized screams of a man the agent but there was something about his groans of pain He was off. Daniels. Daniels, it's Johnson.

Shout out anything you can to help us locate you. What do you see? Give me something. Oh, he won't be able to do that, unfortunately. You see, we thought you might try something like that, being a crafty fad and everything. So we ripped out his tongue. He said that with a coldness that had a lot of us taken back.

He could see that broke, Agent Johnson. knowing his judgment and decisions had this man in this situation. A family man with two kids who should be home right now, watching the Lakers take on the Raptors in the playoffs with a cold beer, right before he tucks the boys in good night after a day of fighting the bad guys of the world. Instead, he's been held against his will, beaten, tortured, and mutilated. Don't worry, though, agent. Things will stop being cut and ripped off, this gentleman,

and if he just writes down in this paper what we want to know. We all looked to Agent Johnson before my dad asked, What is he talking about? That is goddamn classified. He snapped. Well, of course, you know, Bill. The use of Agent Johnson's first name visibly startled him. The man continued,

of course, you could put your man out of a lot of misery and suffering, if you just give me the name that I want. you have my word lawman I'll put a bullet in him right now no more games but if you don't he took a deliberate pause

to allow the gravity of his innuendo to hit the agent's imagination well let's just say he's got ten toes and five fingers he doesn't need in order for him to write a name on a little piece of paper and if needs must there's two rows of pearly whites he had to play with

I am not handing over Another innocent for you, psychos, just a butcher. Agent Johnson exploded. His eyes now glazed over with tears of torment. There was another horrific five-second pause before the man took a deep inhale through his nose. Fair do's, Bill. Fair doze.

Have it your way. The dull, drawn-out shrieks of Agent Daniel's tongueless mouth screeched through our landline as he was dragged off out of audio range of the call. It was hard to tell with no. pronunciation but we were all pretty sure he was screaming the words please no we all could tell he was sobbing too i didn't think this night could get any worse then the speaker projected the man's voice again now then but jessica's mom on the phone please we all gasped our eyes widened and i felt my

pupils dilating there was no way this was going to be good jessica's mom took the receiver from Agent Johnson. She's already fighting back tears. These people didn't seem to care, though. She dived right in. Hello, please, please just give me my little girl back. She's a sweet little girl who hasn't done anything. Mommy, Mommy!

Jessica's voice interrupted her mother's feeble attempt at appealing to the kidnapper's better nature. These people didn't have one. Oh my God, baby. Yes, I'm here. everything's going to be okay. I'm here and we're going to get you home, I promise. The man came back on the phone. Hello, Mrs. Adams. I need you to know that this isn't anything personal. It's just business. Scrap what I said earlier. This right here. This was the worst

moment of my life. This was when we all knew. This isn't the way I wanted to go down, honestly. He almost sounded sincere. The FBI have stepped on our toes one too many times, and they've made us very angry. A message needs to be sent. I hope you understand. Oh, please tell the Matthews family that we'll see them very soon. That dead is still owed, and we will collect.

Jessica's mom knew at this point what was to come. All she could do was to find the strength to try and comfort her little girl and be there for her in what was no doubt, unimaginable hell for her. The image of her shaken frame and tears bursting from her eyes will forever stay with me. To her credit, she did her best remain strong, telling Jessica everything would be okay. She started to sing her the lullaby down the phone from when Jess was five years old and under the weather. The song always made her feel better.

Every kid has that one song their mum sings to them when they need comfort and warmth. I hope it gave Jess some sense of her mother's presence in those last moments. I think I have a lot more issues than I do now, had Agent Rodriguez not acted as quickly as he did. He dived over the dining room table to switch off the speakerphone just as a sound of an electric drill revved to life, and Jessica began to scream in abject terror. We all watched Jessica's mum attempt to hold herself together,

tears leaking from her eye sockets. Jessica's father embraced her mother. mother and a state I'd never seen him in before. We all watched the last of her soul shatter as she sang, hush little baby, into the phone as Jessica screamed in pure agony for her mum and dad to come save her from the bad man. She stayed with Jessica until the very end. We never heard another voice on the line after the screaming stopped. The phone went dead almost immediately afterwards.

Jessica's mom collapsed when the caller hung up. A unit arrived shortly after the call went dead. It was from the US Federal Witness Protection Program. They gave my family all new identities and relocated us out of the country. Apparently that was also part of the document we'd signed earlier. We weren't safe anymore and needed to disappear. I can't give much more detail on this for obvious reasons. It was just that our family had to go missing.

The FBI concluded it was unlikely the swarm would come for Jessica's parents. Their debt was paid, and they'd hurt them enough. We said our emotion-packed goodbyes and offered what fortuitous condolences we could muster. We packed our essential items in the ten minutes we had before a black sedan came to collect us with a SWAT team escort sandwiching our ride. And I watched my home for the last 13 years, fade away into the distance as me and my parents embarked on our new life, away from this nightmare. Apparently, while we were being removed from the country,

the FBI finally traced the call made to our landline. It led to a remote location way off the grid just outside of our state. The FBI in evidence response team followed up to some old abandoned storage facility. There, they found the remains of three bodies. Daniels, Ramsey, and Jess. We were told one was totally dismembered. one was hanging by their neck from barbed wire attached to the roof support beams and the other had been drowned in boiling hot oil.

They didn't tell us which was which, but when Jessica's mom went to identify her body, that was the final straw. She committed suicide the next day by overdosing on her prescription diazepine. Her father is reportedly still alive, but by all accounts he's turned to a life of alcohol and antidepressants. Our handler says she doubts you'll see out the year at the radio's going. It always hurts to hear the lasting damage of this horrendous event.

I hope they all find each other again someday. We're me and my family have settled now in our new home. We're making a go with a normal life, but we will all forever be moulded by the events of that one night. I won't walk anywhere alone. I have severe separation anxiety, and it's affected a lot of my romantic relationships. I can't keep a boyfriend for longer than a month, as I can't talk to any of my boyfriends about my issues and where they stem from, as it's against my Witsack agreement.

Our case handler says, we're the luckiest people she's ever met, and we need to embrace this gift that we've been given. We're the only family to have ever been targeted by the swarm and make it out alive. All the other families out there like me and my parents weren't as fortunate. Well, I doubt I'd use the words lucky and fortunate. Our handler wasn't there that night listening to those people die in some dark, dingy old building screaming for mercy, but at the same time I do get where she's coming from. I always read the online news articles for my old town and surrounding states to keep an eye on the alarming number of rising and missing person cases.

It's horrifying, mainly young girls too, who just vanish from their homes and neighbourhoods without a trace. The swarm is responsible. I know it. Well, even though I'm told I'm safe now And getting on with the rest of my life I always find myself coming back to three things from that night One The look of Jessica's mum's heartbreaking

As she sung her baby to sleep for the final time A moment that haunts me on dark nights Two, the last moment me and Jessica shared together Before she was taken That lingering warm smile we gave each other As she stood in my bedroom doorway the treasure I truly hold dearly on those same dark nights. And three, the common Agent Johnson quoted about Damon Ramsey in regards to his own Witsack agreement, protecting him from the swarm.

When it comes to these people that we're dealing with, there's no such thing as immunity. And so once again, we reach the end of tonight's podcast. My thanks as always to the authors of those wonderful stories and to you for taking the time to listen. Now, I'd ask one small favor of you. Wherever you get your podcast from, please write a few nice words and leave a five-star review as it really helps the podcast.

That's it for this week, but I'll be back again, same time, same place, and I do so hope you'll join me once more. Until next time, sweet dreams and bye-bye.