True Crime with Kimbyr - Part 1: Psycho Killer Living Next Door! The Chaotic Crime Scene Coverup | Beverly & Brian Mauck

Episode Date: February 27, 2026

On this chilling episode of True Crime with Kimbyr, we unravel the harrowing story of Beverly and Brian Mauck, whose seemingly normal neighborhood hid a shocking secret. When a psycho killer moves in next door, chaos erupts, and a sinister cover-up begins. How far would someone go to hide the truth—and who can you really trust when danger lurks so close to home? Dive into the unsettling details, uncover twisted motives, and follow Kimbyrleigha’s compassionate, analytical approach as she pieces together this story of fear, betrayal, and survival. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

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for a limited time only While supplies last, contact store for availability. Sunday tailgates, camping trips, plans for a family But one cold November morning Everything changed. A friend showed up early for a hunting trip And the house was dark.

Hours went by And there was still no sign Of either of them. Then he saw it. Through a broken door panel, it was the outline of a body, inside the home, a television, glowing brightly in the dark, a red streak across the floor. Hi everyone, welcome back to my channel and if you've never been here before, I'm Kimberlea. It's nice to finally meet you. So I don't know if you noticed the intro, but this is one of my videos in the Evil Minds series. If you've never watched one of these before, they tend to be

a little darker, a little more intense, and a lot more infuriating as far as I'm concerned. So let's go back. It was still dark when Jeff, who was a friend of Brian and Beverly Mocks, pulled into their driveway on 70th Avenue East in rural Graham, Washington. It's around 5 o'clock in the morning on Saturday, November 17th in 2007. The woods behind the home were quiet. This guy hadn't even started to shift to sunlight yet. And he'd done that. this dozens of times before. He would meet up for Brian early in the morning for a hunting trip. Same plan, same routine. Brian would be waiting, gear by the door, coffee in hand. That's the kind guy he was. But this time, the house was completely dark. No porch light was on, no movement inside,

just the bright glow of their large TV screen flickering through a big front window of the house. At first, Jeff didn't think much of it. Maybe Brian overslept. Maybe Beverly had a late night at work, he didn't want to wait them. So he waited outside in his truck. He texted, he called, and he got no response, and he eventually drove off, figuring Brian would call back any minute, but that call never came. Hours went by. Dozens of calls went unanswered, and slowly, a feeling started to settle in that Jeff couldn't shake. This wasn't just oversleeping, because this wasn't like Brian. So Jeff turned around, and he drove back to that. But this time, he got out of his truck. He walked up to the front door, and that is when he noticed something that he hadn't seen earlier when it was darker.

One of the wooden panels on the front door near the doorknob had been kicked in, forced open, broken, enough to let someone peek inside or even reach through. So he leaned in. And what he saw in that glow of the still flickering TV stopped him. He thought he saw a foot peeking out from underneath a blue blanket and living. room. And as his eyes adjusted, he realized there was blood on the floor and it was a body, lying motionless, the shape of a person in a position that no one would sleep in. There was someone lying right there in the living room on top of a pool of blood. He didn't know if it was Brian or Beverly or someone else entirely, but something terrible had happened inside that home,

and he wasn't going to open the door alone. He got back into his truck. He drove home in a panic, and he dialed 911. He told the dispatcher everything, where he had been, what he had seen, and then he turned back around a third time, this time, going over there to meet deputies. When the first officer, Deputy James Wilson, arrived, Jeff was visibly shaken.

He was talking fast, he was explaining everything, showing them where the panel had been kicked in, and together they approached the front door. They didn't need a key because it was unlocked. And even if it wasn't, the right bottom panel was kicked in, allowing you to be able to reach up inside and unlock the door. And the second the door swung open, Officer Wilson froze because just inside the front door on the hardwood floors, there was blood.

Not just a little blood, a long, wide trail, beginning near the entryway and stretching all the way onto the cream-colored living room carpet. It wasn't a spill and it wasn't a small pool. This was a thick path. And someone tried to cover. They had thrown bed sheets and blankets on top of it, whatever they could find, in a haphazard manner, which didn't do much to hide it at all, especially because there was a massive amount of blood spatter on the wall next to the living room. So it really did no good to attempt to cover up anything as fast and sloppy as this. It looked like a frenzy killing. And at the end of that trail, two bodies, they crumpled together, covered with a single blue blanket, one. one on top of the other.

There was no need to even check for pulses. They were dead. The officer backed out immediately. He radioed four homicide detectives, and he began securing the scene. But before backup even arrived, something strange happened. Jeff, who just moments ago had been right beside the officer,

was gone. He just slipped away. No explanation, no word. Just vanished. As the sirens approached in the distance, The truth was this. No one had any idea what happened inside that house. Not yet, anyway.

All they knew was that Brian and Beverly Mock were dead. And whoever had done this had taken their time in that house. Even if it did no good to conceal what they had done, they had made an attempt and had been there quite a while. I want to tell you about the couple that lost their lives. Brian and Bev, even their names go together so nicely. They were the kind of couple people look. at and just got it. They looked like they were meant to be together, both with their blonde

hair and their blue eyes and tan skin, almost like a real-life Barbie and Ken. And their relationship was solid. They were truly in love. They were newlyweds, and their love wasn't just for show. It was real. It was magnetic without them even having to try. Brian Mock was the kind of man who could walk into a room full of strangers and have half of them laughing in five minutes flat. He had this voice It was loud and animated and unmistakably just full of life. You didn't lose track of Brian in a crowd. You didn't need to see him because you would know he was there because you could hear his voice. He was always telling a story, always making someone laugh, and bringing just enough mischief to keep things interesting.

But he wasn't loud for the sake of attention. He was passionate. He got excited easily about things like sports, a good steak on a grill, about a new tool or a project he was working on. And he brought that same energy into every part of his life. People trusted him. They relied on him. And once you had Brian in your corner, you knew you would never be alone. Because he was that loyal friend that you could rely on.

In the middle of the night, you could call him, and you knew he would answer. Brian was born on October 25th of 1977. He was raised in Washington with his sister, Jennifer. And from a young age, Brian was drawn to anything mechanical. He was the kind of kid who didn't just play. with toys, he took them apart. He figured out how they worked and put them back together better than before. The natural curiosity he had turned into a real skill. And by the time he graduated from Decanter High School and Federal Way, he was already known for being very hands-on. After school,

Brian went into H-FAC. It was hard work, and it wasn't glamorous, but he made a name for himself fast. He joined Emerald Air, an H-FAC company based in Auburn, and quickly became the technician people asked for by name. He didn't. cut corners, he showed up on time, and he explained things clearly. He fixed what he said he would fix, and there was no ego about it. There was no attitude, just quiet consistency in a field where that kind of reliability can be very rare. Co-workers even leaned on him. Clients always remembered him. And outside of work, Brian was the guy everyone wanted to hang out with, especially at a Seahawks tailgate party. He would show up early, he would claim his usual spot, he would fire up the grill,

and he made everyone feel like they were at home, no matter how many people crowded around. And then came Beverly. Beverly Slater. She was born March 16th of 1979. She grew up with her mother Karen, her stepmother Rick, and her brother's DJ and Craig. Her childhood was busy, blended, and full of energy. She was the kind of person who didn't quite fit into one box. She was athletic, she was stylish, outdoorsy, thoughtful, and adventurous. She could show up camping in full glam and still be the first to light a fire or pitch a tent. And for a while, Beverly actually had dreams of becoming a professional speed skater. She was that good at it. But a serious back injury from a car accident changed everything. Most people would have stopped there,

taken it as a sign to slow down. But Beverly didn't. She adjusted and she shifted her focus. She found other ways to live a big life. And she loved the outdoors. She loved to hide to explore, to scuba dive, and she had this craving for adventure and experience. And people love to be around her for that reason. But more than anything, Bev was loyal, something she and Brian had in common, even though they hadn't even met yet. She paid attention to the people that she cared about. She remembered little details.

She could be soft, but she was strong-willed too. And if you were lucky enough to have her as a friend, you knew you always had someone there for you. When Brian and Bev finally crossed paths in the spring of 2001, it was easy. There was no drama. There was no question, will they or won't they last? They were completely in love. They bonded over their love for sports and the outdoors.

Everything from water skiing to diving, they did it together. And people noticed how well they clicked. They were in sync. They didn't try too hard and they didn't need to. Their lives started overlapping fast. Weekends together, trips, building roots, routines and memories just like that. And it made sense. They were that couple who seemed like they already been married for years, even though they had just started dating. And in 2004, Brian proposed

during a vacation trip to Cancun, and it was perfect. And two years later, on May 5th of 2006, they said their vows on the beaches of Turks and Caicos. It was perfect and simple and sunny and beautiful, surrounded by people who adored them. And that year, they bought fun. five acres of wooded land in Graham, Washington. It was quiet, peaceful, and private. The kind of place where you could live your dream life. You could build your dream home tucked away in your own little world. And that is exactly what they did.

Their house had a beautiful view of Mount Rainier, a view that was so amazing. Guests would go quiet the second they saw it. It was breathtaking. Now, I'm pretty sure the house that I found on Google Maps has been completely remodeled, extensively, especially the backyard. It literally looks like a backyard oasis to the extreme. It's almost like they had their own water park, even with a stone slide in the pool, and it looks like a beach. I don't think

this was here when Brian and Bev owned the house. But the main part of the home was the same, the hardwood floors, the fireplaces, the three-car garage, and all of the land. Football was also a defining part of Brian and Bev's life together. The Seahawks were important to both of the them and Sundays were treated as a commitment. Their home and their social circle adapted around that schedule. Friends and relatives knew that if the Seahawks were playing, Brian and Bev would be watching, cooking, and celebrating the game. Brian's tailgate gatherings became well known within their circle. He would get up early, turn the TV on, get started grilling as soon as he could, wings, burgers, and whatever else he felt like making that day and it became a part of their routine.

Their friends looked forward to being included. It was something Brian and John and enjoyed creating and Bev enjoyed being a part of. And together, they represented the kind of couple who genuinely liked being with each other and who approached life with shared enthusiasm for everything that they loved and whoever they loved. They went camping off and they fished together, they rode motorcycles. They were the kind of people who didn't wait for special occasions to make memories. They just lived and they were very loved. They treated others the way that they wanted to be treated with warmth and humor and generosity.

and they didn't ask for attention. They gave because they genuinely wanted to, and they cared. And at the center of everything was them, Brian and Bev, a couple who built something together to share for a lifetime. They were planning to have kids. Bev had just taken a job closer to home as a secretary at a car dealership. She was making good money. They both were, and everything was lining up.

They had the house, the land, the marriage, the future, and no one could have imagined how could you. quickly would be taken away. So let me take you back to that early Saturday morning on November 17th of 2007. It was still dark outside when the first sign of unease appeared. A chilly morning in Graham Washington, like I said, the sky hadn't even started to get light. Most of the homes on that rural stretch of road were still quiet. Windows were dark. Coffee makers weren't even running yet. At the mock property, that quiet felt completely normal. until it didn't.

Brian had made plans that morning, and he wasn't the type to sleep through them and back out. He had a hunting trip scheduled with his friend Jeff, and they were supposed to meet before sunrise. Jeff was someone who had done this routine with him before. They lived on the same street in this rural neighborhood and had become friends and enjoyed hunting together. But when Jeff arrived around 5 a.m., the house was pitch black.

No porch light. No hallway glow from the bedroom. The only visible thing from outside was the television. It was flickering brightly from the big window in front. It was probably left on from the night before he thought. And as I explained, Jeff waited. He called, he texted. But there was no answer.

And eventually he assumed Brian had just changed plans or overslept. And he drove off. Nothing felt urgent yet. But when hours passed and there was still nothing, no calls, everything was still going to voicemail, no text, no activity, eventually that feeling, the one that we all tried to push away. started to grow. The one that says something is not right. So on his way back down to his house, Jeff went back to Bryans. And this is when he got out of his truck. He walked up to the front door

and that's when he saw the panel of the wooden door just beside the doorknob was completely missing. He realized it was inside. It had been kicked in. You could see right into the home or reach in, like I said, to unlock a deadbolt. And what Jeff saw when you look through that opening was terrifying. These are the type of things the brain can't explain right away. The sight of a body in an awkward position, unmoving, in the glow of that TV set from the outside, Jeff could only see part of the living room, but it was enough. He knew what he was looking at.

It wasn't someone asleep on the ground. It wasn't a fall. It wasn't an accident. This was violent. And this is where I'm not. left off. Jeff and Officer Wilson making their way inside. I told you about the blood trail that stretched from the front door to the living room, and it wasn't just large. We're talking three feet across and roughly 15 feet long, and you know I have to blur everything because we're talking

about a platform that doesn't like uncensored things. But it was strange. It moved in multiple directions like someone had walked through it, drag something across it, and then smeared it deliberately. There were weird lines and marks running through it, and blankets and sheets had been tossed across parts of the floor not to absorb the blood, but to try to hide it. You could tell the killer did not care about being neat. This wasn't someone trying to erase the crime. It was someone trying to mask just enough to buy them some time. Maybe in case someone looked through the Mok's large front windows. They didn't have drapes or blinds, and that blood would have stood out against that light-colored hardwood floor.

This killer was someone who thought they had time to spare. And that alone told this officer something important. Whoever did this wasn't afraid of being caught. This seemed reckless and chaotic. And near the center of the living room, there were the two victims. It's ironic that it's called a living room, a place where the living are no longer in this case. And it was Brian and Bev.

even though they were not officially identified yet. Together in life and together now in death. At first, it seemed like it could be a situation where one of them hurt the other and then themselves, but a quick look at the surrounding area proved that theory was highly unlikely or impossible, considering there was a blanket on top of both of them and no weapon nearby. At this point, Deputy Wilson backed out immediately knowing what this was, a double homicide. He radioed for the Homicide Division and CSI, to respond to the scene immediately.

And while he stood just outside the threshold, processing what he had just seen, he turned around to speak with the man who called 911, Jeff, the one who had claimed to be a friend of Bryans, but he's gone. And that seemed off. But he thought maybe he got spooked. Not everyone can handle the sight of death. Pierce County Homicide Detective Sergeant Benjamin Benson arrived on scene next. He was a seasoned investigator with three decades of experience, level-headed, methodical, calm under pressure, but even he would say later that walking into the Mock's house that day,

rattled him. From the moment he stepped inside, Benson knew this wasn't a robbery, this wasn't impulsive, this was methodical, intentional, and controlled. The house wasn't ransacked. Nothing had been overturned, electronics, valuables, they had been left untouched.

And then there was the blood. The marks weren't consistent with the struggle. It looked like someone had to be. drag something or someone through it. But there were more patterns in it that seemed almost like someone was finger painting or creating a design. It was strange. It didn't make sense.

The thick trail got thinner as it neared the carpet and then it was about as wide as a body. So that part made sense because one of the victims must have been killed near where the trail began close to the entryway and dragged to the living room. And then the killer decided to disturb that trail in some way. for some reason. Benson saw more blood near the kitchen. And that's when he saw something that seemed very out of place. Well, maybe not usually, but the way it was laying in what was on it.

It was a broom soaked in blood, lying near a bloody rag. At this point, the spray of blood on the wall made sense. It was cast off from a broom. This was far from a cleanup job, though. It seemed like someone frantically rushing around trying to figure out what to do next, and they spent at least a couple hours on that mission. To remove evidence that, they had been there, and then it was like they just decided to leave. That's risky. Sticking

around that long? Forensic technicians noted minor discrepancies as well that showed what the killer was doing. Door knobs had been wiped down, but not with a clean towel. Light switches had blood smears all over them, and they had been wiped too, but not cleaned. It left smudges as it was hand-wiped with the bloody cloth, probably the rag they saw on the floor. It was enough to suggest an attempt to remove fingerprints or even DNA, but it wasn't done well. It's a red flag because who stays at a scene of a double homicide long enough to sweep the floors? Maybe someone who knew these victims, someone who knew he wouldn't be interrupted, someone who felt

comfortable in that space. And as Benson made his way to the bodies, he took in every detail. By now, they both had been identified. Once the blanket was removed, there was 28-year-old. her body was draped on top of her 30-year-old husband, Brian's. She was nude, and they were positioned in the shape of the letter T. Brian was sprawled out straight and found face down in the living room on the floor. His arms were tucked beneath his torso, and he was still fully clothed in jeans and a t-shirt. And Bev was across his upper body, making the top part of the T. The fact that he was

clothed and she wasn't, that contrast struck the investigator immediately. It raised questions that they weren't able to answer yet. What had gone on here? Was this staged? Was there a sexual element to it? Or had Bev simply been caught off guard while she was asleep? Many people do sleep without clothing. And Benson didn't want to jump to conclusions. He had worked way too many cases to assume anything about staging or intent. But he took notice. One thing was clear. This attack happened very fast. There were no signs that any struggle occurred. Nothing in that home indicated a drawn-out altercation.

This was more of an ambush. The bodies were then transported to the medical examiner's office for autopsies to be conducted. The examinations revealed that both Brian and Bev had been shot three times at close range with a 22-caliber handgun. Brian was shot twice in the back and a third time in the right side of his head. The positioning suggested he had been shot from behind. Send help is now streaming on Hulu and Hulu on Disney Plus. We're somewhere in the Gulf of Thailand.

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Oh, that's just piggy. He gets excited when we talk about rewards. Savings of up to $1 per gallon redeemable with $20 rewards dollars in your loyalty account. At participating locations, terms and conditions apply. Probably after turning away from the killer and then in the head for good measure to make sure that he was dead. Bev had also been shot three times, twice in the back of the head and once right between her eyes. That fatal shot was described as a finishing shot, a bullet that's fired at point-blank range with the clear intention of making sure your victim is dead. It's brutal, and it's absolutely chilling what happened to this couple. It seems so cold and so personal.

However, even though Beverly was unclothed, there were no signs of sexual assault, and there were no defensive wounds on either of them. So they hadn't fought back. They probably didn't even have time to try. And then came the physical evidence. Once the CSI team lifted the blankets from the floor and uncovered that thick trail of blood, They noticed what appeared to be a bloody zigzag shoe print beneath the sheet, preserved in now drying blood. The killer must have stepped onto the sheet after putting in a place,

thinking that he was avoiding the blood getting on his shoes, but the sheet was thin. And as the killer walked over it, they pressed the tread of their footwear onto the fabric and then right into the blood underneath. The sheet had acted almost like a time capsule, shielding the print from disturbance. It's preserved, just as it was when it was made. Now, this could be what the killer was trying to remove from that thick streak of blood to begin with. He took that broom to erase away that distinctive footprint so they wouldn't be left behind. And as he pushed and dragged the broom through that blood, it created the elongated streaks

that investigators had seen near the doorway. The sweeping motion also accounted for that fine spatter I told you about that was on the adjacent wall. All of that work that the killer put in, and he must not have had a clue that one, footprint remained hidden by that sheet that he placed on top to cover his tracks. More forensic evidence emerged in the southeast corner of the home. On the door jam of the primary bedroom, roughly five feet above the floor, technicians noticed a reddish impression, and at first glance, it looked like a fingerprint. But its placement and its angle were off.

The ridge pattern was oriented upside down in an unnatural position for someone placing a finger on the surface at that height. it would have had to be placed there if someone stood, let's say, on a ladder or a stepstool and maybe use their hand to brace themselves while cleaning or while thinking or while wiping down something out of reach. But upon further inspection, they realized it wasn't a fingerprint in blood. It was a palm print because palm prints, I didn't even know this, they are almost like an upside-down pattern when you're looking at them compared to a fingerprint, but it was

preserved for analysis. And there was another detail that stood out to Benson. the TV being on. There was no indication the victims had been watching TV when they were attacked. So to Benson, the more plausible explanation was chilling, that the killer had turned on the TV and kept it on while he attempted to clean up. It contributed to the sense the suspect did not rush, but he stayed inside the house longer than most offenders would.

And for a minute I wondered, did this person sit down and watch TV after committing such a brutal crime? Think about that. Either way, it's horrifying. Once the CSI had finished documenting the interior of the Mock's home, Detective Benson took a step back to absorb the bigger picture. Not just what was there, but what wasn't. Nothing about this crime scene pointed to a robbery.

Brian had cash in his pocket. He had several firearms that were left untouched. They were in plain sight, easy to grab and ignored. And there was, of course, valuables in the house. Jewelery, electronics, all there. exactly where they should have been. So whatever happened inside that house, it wasn't about stuff.

It was about them, Brian and Bev. From the blood patterns and body positioning, investigators concluded that Brian had likely been shot from behind soon after the killer came into his home. And this detail was important. Was Brian waiting for them? While Bev was already in bed?

If Brian opened the door, then why was the panel kicked in? Detectives worked through the most problem scenario. Brian heard a knock at the door. He got dressed, left the bedroom, and went to the front door, saw who was on the other side, and didn't want to let them in. So he turned around to walk away, and that's when the killer kicked the panel out of the door and was able to unlock the door from reaching inside. As Brian turned towards the living room, he was shot from behind and fell right where he was found. The trajectory of the first shot followed by two shots to his back

aligned with the shooter standing behind him almost immediately after he would have turned away from that door. Benson believed that Bev being found in the nude indicated she was asleep when the attack occurred. She most likely heard the commotion of the door being kicked in, or Ryan and the killer in an argument of some kind, and she jumps out to bed to find out what's going on without any time to get dressed. So whatever this woman heard, it must have been that concerning to her. She could have been that concerning to her. possibly heard the gunshots. And once she made it to the living room, she probably saw the shooter and attempted to run towards the door for help. And as she did, she was quickly shot. Two shots right to the

back of her head, followed by that one final shot between the eyes just when she fell to the ground to make sure she wasn't getting back up. After that, her body was dragged back towards the living room and positioned on top of Bryans and then covered with a sheet taken from their own bedroom and match the other bed sheets. And then the cover-up began for the next couple hours. Once the crime scene had been fully cleared and Brian and Bev's bodies were transported away from the home, Detective Ben Benson shifted back in a procedure. The chaos was now quiet, but the work was far from over at this point. There was one loose end that he needed to address immediately. The man who had found them, Brian's friend, identified as Jeff Radus. Benson had unanswered questions and they weren't small.

ones because over the years, he had learned that killers don't always run. Sometimes they do the exact opposite. Some offenders report their own crimes. Others will insert themselves into investigations as witnesses, and some make a show of being helpful and cooperative and eager, while quietly doing things that don't quite add up and getting information about the crime. Jeff's behavior that morning stood out. He had been present when the bodies were discovered, and then, without explanation, he just

leaves the scene. Now, that's not typical, not for an innocent witness, not for someone who had just discovered who he called two close friends dead inside their home. He said he'd been hunting, so that meant he had a gun. Benson couldn't ignore that. So the next step was obvious. He needed to find Jeff and sit him down and walk through everything to determine whether his role truly ended with the discovery of the bodies or whether it went deeper than that. And it wasn't hard to find this man, he lived about a thousand feet up the street from the mocks. No wonder you could have just slipped away easily. He probably just walked home. When detectives brought him in for a formal interview, they began where they always do with the timeline. And Jeff explained that morning like

I already told you. Wanted to go hunting. Brian didn't answer. He went hunting alone. Then came back to figure out what happened. But hunting by himself stood out. It meant no witnesses. No one who could confirm where he was during that critical window when Brian and Bev were killed. Hunting alone wasn't unusual for Jeff. But from an investigative standpoint, it meant that every part of his story had to be examined very closely. As the interview continued, detectives gently pressed Jeff about his relationship with Bev and Brian. He said the three of them were good friends. He'd gotten to know them when they moved on his street. They spent weekends together. They played cards. They barbecued, socialized regularly. And according to Jeff,

They never had been in any arguments. There had never been any tension. Never anything resembling a dispute that could ever escalate into violence, and he didn't do this. Now, nothing in his answers suggested he was lying, and nothing even pointed to a motive. The tattoos aren't just listening. They're watching everything.

Body language, pacing, the way his voice cracked when he talked about finding Brian and Bev. But as they dug deeper, Jeff had no criminal history. He had no known interest. issues with the mocks or anyone else. And through the course of this interview, his emotional state was consistent. He appeared genuinely shaken. His hands would tremble. His tone was uneven, and his anxiety was visible and raw. This completely tracked with what detectives often saw in people who had made a gruesome discovery like this, something they were never prepared for.

And DeBenson, nothing about this felt rehearsed. But still, he had to be careful. First impressions can definitely be wrong. And criminals can lie really well. Experience taught him never to rule someone out too early, especially someone who had been inside that home and left before speaking to detectives. So while Jeff didn't look like the killer that they were looking for, he also wasn't cleared. At that point, he remained a person of interest. Not the most compelling suspect, but still someone they couldn't afford to just overlook. But as word of the murder spread through Graham, It went beyond to the surrounding communities. The news moved really fast, faster than the official notifications ever could.

And it didn't come in the form of a knock on the door for this family or a phone call from sheriffs. It came through word of mouth. Karen, Bev's mom, got the news way too soon and not in a way that anyone would have wanted. Whenever friends called her, they said there had been a murder. They said it happened. They said, they thought it was Brian and Beverly. Karen lived 30 minutes away in Milton, and the moment she heard those words, her body just went still.

She said this had to be a mistake. Her daughter being murdered inside the home that she poured her heart into, it sounded impossible to her, like it was a rumor, terribly gone wrong, or a case of mistaken identity. Bev was young. She was healthy. She was happy. newly married, she'd just started building the life that she always dreamed about for so many years. So Karen told herself it couldn't be real, but the calls didn't stop.

More people reached out. Some of them were confused. Some of them were terrified. And the more Karen heard it from different voices, coming from different places, the harder it became to hold on to hope that this wasn't just a misunderstanding. And that's when the panic set in. She was screaming and saying, I have to get out there. I have to get out there. over and over again like it was a chant because she had to see things for herself. Karen grabbed her keys and she drove straight to the property. When she pulled up, deputies were already there. Their cruisers were parked at the edge of that long driveway and yellow crime scene tape stretched across the front yard.

Karen tried to walk towards the house because all she wanted to do was step on that porch, open the door and see her baby girl. She wanted to touch her. She wanted to know for sure, even if that meant facing the worst. But officers stopped her. They told her gently, but very firmly, you cannot go inside. Crossing that threshold would contaminate the scene. But to Karen, this wasn't a scene.

It was where her daughter lived. Of course, the evidence inside was vital to understanding what happened to her daughter and her son-in-law. They couldn't risk compromising it. But mothers aren't thinking like detectives. They're thinking like mothers. All she wanted to do was comfort her daughter to be there for her, even if she was gone. She was still in there. But Karen just couldn't get to her.

She just stood there, frozen outside the house that her daughter had so carefully made into a home, unable to move, unable to hold her own child. For both the Mock and the Slater families, what happened was unthinkable because Brian and Bev, they weren't the kind of people who had enemies. They were kind, dependable, gentle, the kind of couple you trusted, that you invited to every get-together. They wanted kids so bad.

It was part of their plan, and they were ready. And Karen's heart broke, knowing they would never get that chance. She knew they would have made amazing parents. Over and over, their families repeated the same sentiment, not to convince the detectives, but to try to convince themselves. They would say there's no one who would want to hurt them.

There's no one that hated them. This doesn't. makes sense. But somewhere inside that blur of grief and disbelief, Karen remembered something, someone that her daughter had told her about, someone she had worried about long before the murders. Even in the disorienting and fog of loss, Karen was focused enough to speak up. She told detectives, there was a specific person they needed to look into right away, because Bev didn't keep things to herself. When something made her feel unsafe or scared or uneasy, she would speak up. And Karen knew she had to know. Karen was usually the first person that Bev told. And Bev had told her

something about a man, a name that she could not get out of her head, someone who made Bev extremely uncomfortable. A young man named Jeremy Flynn. He was 21 and he lived just a few doors down. And about six weeks earlier, there was a small party at Brian and Bev's house. Friends were there, they were drinking. It was just a casual night in. But not everyone there belonged. And not everyone brought good energy. The moment that Jeremy walked in, something felt off. Now, Karen wasn't there that night. But Beverly had called her afterwards and she was entirely unsettled. She told her mom that Jeremy had gotten heavily intoxicated and he started acting loud and angry. And at one point, he started making really inappropriate comments at her about her appearance. His tone,

it was invasive, it was inappropriate and it was unappropriate and it was aggressive. At first, Bev tried to just brush this off in the moment to avoid making a scene, but Karen could tell that it bothered her. And when Jeremy's behavior went from annoying to confrontational, Brian stepped in and he asked him to leave. This should have been a simple request that was followed without a problem, but it nearly turned physical. Jeremy didn't leave quietly. He was loud and belligerent. He felt insulted. And eventually when he did stumble out the door, the mood that night entirely shifted. And the feeling he left behind didn't fade.

It left such a bad impression on Bev that she told her mom she never wanted Jeremy inside their home again. But that is not all. The next morning, Brian and Bev realized that several things were missing from their home. One, Bev's cell phone was missing. And two, a 357 magnum. A handgun that Brian kept securely stored, but it was accessible.

Nothing else from the house had been taken, and there was only one person they suspected. Jeremy, but they didn't file a report because Jeremy was related to one of their close friends, and they didn't want to start drama or stir up tension in their social circle. They assumed it was just a stupid, drunk decision, one that might resolve itself. They didn't see him as a threat. But Bev certainly didn't forget the night. She later told her mom, she didn't trust Jeremy at all. She didn't like the way he looked at her.

and she didn't like his erratic energy that he carried with him, and she didn't feel safe in the house alone if Brian wasn't there. I told you that Jeremy only lived a few doors away. It was walking distance. And that detail made Karen even more uneasy about her daughter, being alone and now being murdered. And while she's standing outside that taped off crime scene, Karen could not stop thinking about all this.

She knew her daughter. She knew when something really scared her, and she had a right to be afraid. This was more than a bad party. It seemed like it was more than just a phone missing and a gun stolen because in her gut, Karen believed Jeremy had come back. And this time, he crossed the line and he destroyed this couple. Detectives took Karen's statement seriously.

It wasn't just the grief talking. She was so calm and focused and specific. It wasn't like she was trying to guess who did something. She was trying to tell them something that she knew. So they began digging into Jeremy Flynn. And almost immediately, they realized that Karen had a right to be worried. Jeremy wasn't just a local troublemaker.

He had a juvenile record, and he had been tied to multiple burglaries and thefts in that area, and he was known in the neighborhood for having a short fuse, especially from flipping from friendly to aggressive in seconds when he was drinking. People who lived nearby had used the same words over and over to describe him, unpredictable, volatile, and difficult to confront. He wasn't the kind of person you would expect to maybe plan a double homicide, but he was the kind of person who could snap. And when you looked at the timeline, the stolen handgun, the party incident, the close proximity, it seemed to fit. The team made locating this man a top priority.

Even if it wasn't the same caliber gun that was used in the crime, he could have owned others. But right away, they hit a wall. The first address on file for Jeremy wasn't even real. When officers drove out to check the property, there was nothing there. No house, no trailer, no mailbox, just open ground. They even double-checked the number, and they ran it through a system again, and they confirmed the address listed on his criminal record didn't exist. Now, the second address was about 30 minutes from the Mok's property. It was his mother's home, and they went there next, hoping there would be a sign of him.

When detectives arrived, Jeremy's mother said she hadn't seen him recently, and she didn't know where he was. She seemed genuinely concerned and worried about her son, especially now that police were there. She didn't deny that he had a past. She didn't try to explain it away, but she just said, I don't know where he's gone. Detectives asked for names of friends, jobs, places he might be, and she gave him what she could. A few vague references, but nothing concrete. This was literally like chasing a shadow.

Everywhere they went, they got nowhere, and they checked old contacts. They called numbers. They drove out to houses where he had once stayed with friends. But each one of them was either a dead end or months out of date. Jeremy moved a lot and he didn't always tell people where he was going. He would just leave and he rarely came back. And by the third day

investigators had this feeling that this guy wasn't just out visiting friends he was avoiding them. And now with two people murdered and a missing gun from the Mock's home, Jeremy had officially moved from a person of interest to an active suspect. They needed to find him before anyone else got hurt.

With Jeremy Flynn still missing and his trail going colder by the day that passed, detectives had no choice but to widen their search. If no one in the Mock Circle had seen anything, maybe someone outside did. So they went back to basics. They were boots on the ground going door to door in the neighborhood, down the winding road surrounding the private road that the Mocks lived on. It was rural, it was thick with trees, scattered homes, long driveways.

But all it took was one person. One neighbor, one window at the right angle who might have seen something. And they find, too. So the right of the Mox was a home, and its side windows would have caught something, and a couple houses down from the Mox residence. At the very end of 70th Avenue East lived a married couple, Daniel and Jennifer Travarez. Their mobile homes sat on a stretch of land owned by Jennifer's brother Jeff. Yes, that Jeff, the friend of the Mox who found the bodies and was already interviewed.

I told you, he lived just down the road. Well, Daniel and Jennifer's temporary mobile home sat right beside Jeff's house. blocking Jeff's view from his windows. But Daniel and Jennifer's mobile home was across the street from the mocks, so more of their windows could have possibly allowed them to witness the person breaking in

or running from the house or even the crime taking place. And they say that right from their bedroom window, they can see the mocks driveway. If you're watching, I'm showing you this on the screen so you can make sense of what I am saying that they would have had a better view

because of the way their mobile home was parked. So the detectives' go there first. One, because they're connected to one of the Mok's friends, Jeff, and two, because of the positioning of their mobile home. Daniel answered the door and was quick to offer any information that could be of assistance. First, they let the detective know that they were acquaintances of Brian and Bev. Jennifer and Daniel had only lived there since July, but they had gone over to parties a couple times at the Mok's residence, and Daniel was also a tattoo artist, and he'd been working on a piece for Brian. Daniel said that around 7 o'clock in the morning on November 17th, the day of the murders,

he and his wife, Jennifer, had been awoken by the sound of gunfire. But like most people in that area, they didn't think much of it. Out in Pierce County, gunshots didn't immediately mean danger. Early morning hunting was common. But still, curiosity got the better of him, especially since it sounded so close by. So Daniel said he and his wife got up, they walked to their window, and they looked towards the road, and that's when they saw a red pickup truck parked in front of the Mox home, and it didn't belong there. He noticed the loud exhaust, and he watched as a man, walked out of the house. And because of the gunshots and the strange vehicle, Daniel watched the man and took in every

detail. He described him as a white male. He was tall around six foot two, and at least two 30 to 240 pounds with long hair pulled back into a ponytail and a pockmarked face. and facial stubble like someone who hadn't shaved in days. He said he thought there could have been a second man in the passenger seat of the truck, but he couldn't say for sure because the lack of light and the angle. But what he remembered the most was the way the truck had quickly backed out of the driveway

and turned and sped away. Jennifer saw it too, the red truck, and she remembered it being loud, and she remembered a man coming out of the Mock's house. Now, she did not describe him the way Daniel did. She said she wasn't sure how tall he was or what his facial features were, but she saw him. But to her, he seemed like a friend just visiting the mocks until she heard about the homicides. Now she thought it was suspicious. And for the record, her brother Jeff doesn't drive a red truck, so it wasn't his truck from coming to pick up Brian.

But could it have been Jeremy Flynn? Well, he didn't drive a red truck either. could he have been in the passenger seat? He did not match the description of the driver, though. Jeremy was young. He was a little bit stocky, but he kept his hair in a buzz cut, and he was still missing. So there was no way to get in touch with him

and question him about anything, including his whereabouts. To detectives, though, this finally felt like a break. The first real visual confirmation that someone was at that scene around the time of the murders. They noted every detail. And it wasn't a lot, but it was more than they had. And now they had at least a direction. First, they tried to connect this red truck to someone within the Mock's social circle.

Did Brian or Bev know someone who drove a red pickup truck? Did they hang out with anyone who looked like the man that was described? No. There were no friends, no coworkers, no family, no neighbors that matched these descriptions. And that was a problem. Because in rural Pierce County, red trucks, they're common. Still, this was the best lead they had. So detectives began reviewing records.

They're running vehicle tags across referencing truck owners with anyone that could be tied to this couple or anyone with a criminal history. But nothing lined up. And meanwhile, efforts to find Jeremy continued. There was one more location left that they hadn't checked yet.