NOCTURNUM COLLECTIVE – SEASON ONE
Killer in the Wind – Chapter Three
Written by Karl White
NARRATOR (OPEN): There are constants that endure in the known world. Space, time, energy, matter. Physical and scientific laws constraining us to this existence. But there's a current below the surface. Contrary to the explainable, it's where the unknown resides, where meaning and form collide with the abstract, where shadows hold dominion…Enter the Nocturnum Collective.
(MUSIC – opening sequence)
NARRATOR: Killer in the Wind, Chapter Three, written by Karl White.
NARRATOR: Red skies at dawn, the Marsh Farm. A flurry of activity as police, fire, and ambulances are all active at the scene…In the fields behind the house, Deputy Liston and others walk the rows of corn searching for clues…Ahead, Arlo sees broken stalks and the indentions of large heavy footprints, telltale signs. The gait between steps is unnaturally wide…He follows them to the edge of the field and onto the same road Duane drove down the night before.
(SFX – police, ambulance sirens)
NARRATOR: At the house, the bodies of Adam and Maggie are carted out, covered in white sheets. But the indication of flora and fauna growing from their bodies can be made out. Tripp stands in the driveway…He's on the phone with Lark, who is in Chicago, at the site of the latest bombing. The ground floor of another high-rise is the blast zone. Everything is black, charred, melted. She is surrounded by Chicago's finest, along with FBI and ATF agents, all scouring the scene for clues.
TRIPP: Sonny says, it's the same killer.
LARK: (over phone) The victims?
TRIPP: Adam and Maggie Marsh. He was a supervisor at Polygon. She worked in the medical field, records clerk or something like that.
LARK: (over phone) Do they connect to the other couple?
TRIPP: Can't say for sure at this point.
LARK: (over phone) There's a link. Find it.
TRIPP: It won't be forensics. I can't get anybody to test our evidence with the bombings.
LARK: (over phone) That's only part of it. You need suspects. The perp has it twice now within a radius of a few miles. It's time to take a look at the residents in your quiet town.
NARRATOR: There's a growing crowd on the scene. Onlookers, stopping by to see what all the police activity is about. Tripp stares at the spectators. Faces in the crowd. It could be anyone.
(MUSIC)
NARRATOR: Canvassing, Tripp first interviews Mr. Bozeman, a farmer who lives just down the road. He's rough and tumble, weathered hands and face. There's a hard, underlying abrasiveness to him. Something primal, like a seemingly docile animal, that if you're not careful, could rip your throat out.
MR. BOZEMAN: You always hate to hear about anybody meeting their end, but Adam and Maggie can burn in hell as far as I'm concerned.
TRIPP: So you weren't on good terms?
MR. BOZEMAN: I wouldn't have spit on them if they were on fire.
TRIPP: Care to elaborate?
MR. BOZEMAN: I bought the Marsh's acreage five years ago. Biggest mistake I ever made. Adam inherited the land from his father, but neither were good farmers. They couldn't get consistent crop yields. So I came in, resurfaced the terrain, fixed some irrigation, no issues. When I started making money, Adam came back and sued me for negligent misrepresentation and breach of contract. But I bought it fair and square, and I put in the hard work…But he and his wife wouldn't let it lie. They threatened my family, tried to intimidate me.
TRIPP: Did anything ever escalate beyond that?
MR. BOZEMAN: All wind, no rain. But I always had a shotgun in the house ready to go, just in case. Guess now, I can sleep easy.
(MUSIC)
NARRATOR: Next, he speaks with Cass, welding in her garage. She's a former Polygon employee who worked under Adam Marsh.
CASS: He was such a dick. Rude, underhanded. He nearly got me killed.
TRIPP: Oh yeah? How's that?
CASS: I ran one of the production lines at Polygon. We had strict safety operating procedures, but Adam suggested we circumvent those to up productivity. I didn't feel comfortable with it, and I snitched. A few days later, the line broke down. When I went to check on it, a spindle started up during my inspection. It nearly pulled me in. It had been tampered with. I filed a formal complaint with Polygon detailing Adam's actions.
NARRATOR: Cass gets quiet, holding back her emotions. Then her face sours. It's all a sore subject.
CASS: But they came back. He claimed it was my fault, and I got fired. I've had a hard time finding work since, so I'm doing my metal art, just trying to keep my head above water.
(MUSIC)
NARRATOR: Tripp walks with Raj on his postal route. Is this case connected to what happened to Sully and Jenna?
TRIPP: I can't comment on that. But why do you ask?
RAJ: I figured you wanted to talk to me about the threat I made to Sully.
NARRATOR: Tripp hasn't a clue what he's talking about, but his quiet demeanor prompts Raj's guilty conscience to unfold.
RAJ: You know that my dad died from cancer, right? Well, Sullen's Funeral Home did the services. My dad was supposed to be buried next to my mom at Pine Ridge Cemetery, but Sully cremated the body without our permission…I confronted him. Things got heated. I said I was gonna kill him.
TRIPP: Well, did you mean it?
RAJ: Of course not. I was upset. But it doesn't excuse what he did. We went to just about every lawyer in the county to pursue legal action, but Jenna Sullen bad mouthed us to everybody. We couldn't find representation.
TRIPP: Let me ask you. You interact with just about everybody in town. Do you know any connection between the Sullen's and Adam or Maggie Marsh?
RAJ: The Marsh’s were bullies too. Had lots of enemies.
TRIPP: You know of anybody in particular?
RAJ: Adam and Phil got into a big blowup not long ago.
(MUSIC)
NARRATOR: At the fire station, Phil Corbin washes the latter truck.
PHIL: Adam and I played in a card game. He was the biggest cheat I've ever seen. Tried counting cards, then had to go and try to pin it on me. We kicked him out. The prick wanted to get physical, so I obliged…And Maggie…Don’t get me started, she was a brat.
TRIPP: So you had something against Kevin and Jenna Sullen and Adam the Maggie Marsh?
PHIL: Well, I'm a passionate guy. Wear my heart on my sleeve. People piss me off. As far as the deceased couples go, I'd say natural selection is finally catching up.
NARRATOR: Oscar, who's on a ladder, under the hood working on the engine, pops his head up.
OSCAR: Just because old Phil here is a hothead doesn't make him a killer.
PHIL: Yeah, even Oscar hated Adam.
OSCAR: I lived down the road from the Marsh’s for a time. We shared a property line. I'll admit, they weren't the best neighbors, but he and Maggie were lovely individuals.
NARRATOR: The list of people who weren't fans of the Marsh’s is longer than Tripp thought. Same with the Sullen’s…Tripp looks at Phil and Oscar. He grew up around these guys. They're like uncles to him. Seeking a killer among friendly faces may prove more difficult than he thought. He needs to look at things objectively…Tripp stares up at the sky, but even with his hat on, he covers his eyes in the blaring sun. Oscar sees it and climbs down, offering his sunglasses.
OSCAR: Take them, I've got another pair.
TRIPP: Since the shooting, I've had all kinds of side effects. Light sensitivity, vertigo, can't smell a damn thing.
NARRATOR: As he goes to put Oscar's glasses on, Tripp notices a blue scuff on the black frames.
OSCAR: It's from the old grain elevator.
PHIL: Oscar's prepping it for demolition.
OSCAR: Scrubbing the lead paint from the top floors, and doing asbestos removal before it comes down. Nasty work, but I need the money. I want to visit my sister in Oregon for Christmas. And I'm not afraid of heights, right, Phil?
PHIL: I ain't afraid of heights either.
(SFX – cell phone notification)
NARRATOR: Tripp gets a text. It's from Lark. She's found someone who might be able to help with his evidence.
(MUSIC)
NARRATOR: Eau de Nil High School, home of the Green Wave. A mural of an anthropomorphic stalk of corn with his dukes up is painted in the main corridor…Evidence box in hand, Tripp waits outside a science lab. The clock in the hall sits at 2.59.
(SFX – school bell)
NARRATOR: It's the last bell of the school day. Classrooms quickly empty as eager teens are ready to escape the stifling imprisonment of academia…As the room clears, Miss Ava Perkins, 37, African American…A stately professional, but with an approachable casualness underneath, comes to the door.
AVA: You must be Sheriff Ellis.
TRIPP: You can just call me Tripp.
AVA: That's not a name you hear often.
TRIPP: My parents wanted life to be difficult. It was their gift to me.
NARRATOR: She responds with a warm grin.
(SFX – room tone)
NARRATOR: In the lab, the evidence is carefully laid out on the table. Ava catalogs everything, filling out detailed descriptions of what Tripp has brought.
AVA: Maintaining the integrity of the chain of custody is crucial. That way, if anything is used during a hearing or trials, we can ensure the evidence is what it claims to be.
TRIPP: Seems thorough. I wasn't expecting as much from a high school teacher…No offense.
AVA: It was paramount when I worked at the Bureau's crime lab.
TRIPP: Bureau, as in FBI?
AVA: Yeah, but my mom got sick, so I relocated to take care of her, and I've always had an affinity for education.
NARRATOR: Ava preps a slide and puts it in a microscope, studying it.
TRIPP: Do you think you can really help us figure out what's going on?
AVA: Maybe. You said something on the phone about thinking your perp might be using biologics.
TRIPP: There were some strange indications on and inside the bodies.
NARRATOR: Lining the window, a veritable wilderness of plants, all different shapes and sizes.
TRIPP: You got a thing for plants?
AVA: Botany is my specialty, and plants are kind of like people. They need sun, air, and water to thrive. The only difference is they don't talk back.
NARRATOR: She hits the lights and turns on an overhead projector, magnifying the microscopic image she was looking at. It's a thick substance with specks of black and green…She refers to the evidence tag.
AVA: This is from a window?
TRIPP: I was thinking it might be hydraulic oil.
AVA: It's olive oil.
TRIPP: How can you tell that just by looking at a slide?
AVA: From color, fat chains, and small bits of olive.
NARRATOR: Impressed, Tripp feels like he's in good hands.
(MUSIC)
NARRATOR: Back in Stanfield, Tripp lumbers into the office after the long day. Two more bodies, and no closer to figuring out who their killer is. As he settles at his desk, Arlo pops in, an excited but bewildered look on his face.
ARLO: Hey, Tripp, you gotta see this.
NARRATOR: In the conference room, Tripp and Arlo stand over Deputy Liston's shoulder as she cues a video on her laptop. On the screen, dash cam footage from Duane’s semi…The headlights illuminate the dark road…Then from the corn, the figure emerges, leaping, bounding across the road, and in a flash, disappears during its hasty getaway…It happens so fast, Tripp cocks his head, struggling to process what he just saw.
TRIPP: What was that? Play it again.
NARRATOR: Liston slows the video, going frame by frame, zooming in. Then stops. Tripp's eyes grow as he's looking at a fuzzy still. Details are limited with the lighting and resolution of the video…But in full glory, the shape's body is outlined with a candescent skeletal cocoon atop its head, a helmet with a reflective skull face underneath, glaring at Duane in the cab.
ARLO: It sure looks like a monster to me.
NARRATOR: Tripp stares at the image. Finn wasn't wrong after all.
(MUSIC - eerie)
NARRATOR: Black…Nothingness...Tripp finds himself alone in a cavernous void, only the darkness surrounding him…But it isn't real. He's in a deep sleep, his mind dreaming. The chaotic and erratic firing of neurons, causing the brain to activate, pulling random memories, subconscious processing, the metaphorical, mixed with emotions, creating a veritable image salad floating in his gray matter…Out of the umbra, the detection of an image. Tripp's mesmerized stare is fixed on a projection. All he can make out are soft, shadowed shapes. Then the embodiment of the elusive figure comes into sharp focus. Suddenly, flashes of other monsters, inventions in his mind. Effigies from pop culture, movies, cartoons, comic books, a vampire, a werewolf, a ghost, a witch, the Horror, the devil, Gino Corso.
(SFX – bed sheets rustle)
NARRATOR: In his bed, Tripp thrashes, nowhere to run, nowhere to hide from what haunts him.
(SFX – hollow wind)
NARRATOR: Back in his mind, the scene changes. Through the dark, the illumination of something familiar. The sound of wind in a vacuum. It doesn't match the environment. Tripp is on the side of the road, on the ground, shot in the ankle…He suddenly looks up to the gun pointed at him. Past the barrel, he sees Gino’s face. Distorted, he's a demon, a skull…The gun goes off.
(SFX – gasp, heavy breathing)
NARRATOR: Tripp gasps awake from his nightmare. It's still pitch-black outside. The clock reads 3:33 a.m.
(SFX – tap water )
NARRATOR: In the kitchen, Tripp downs a glass of water from the tap. Out of the window in the direction of town, he can see the old grain elevator in the distance. Lights in the head house are on, making it look like glowing eyes near the horizon…Tripp rubs his own…Then, looking back, there are no lights. His imagination is playing tricks. He needs some fresh air…So he gets dressed for work, leaving a note for Arlo that reads, Tripp is heading in early.
(SFX – driving)
NARRATOR: The sun has yet to rise, as the sheriff's cruiser crackles down a dark, dirt road, pulling into the Marsh’s property. Headlights splash on the eerily dark house, making the striking yellow police tape that flaps in the wind stand out even more.
(SFX – car door)
NARRATOR: Out of the car, Tripp, with flashlight in hand, walks the quiet farm.
(SFX – footsteps)
NARRATOR: He doesn't know what he's doing there, or what he's looking for, but he's the sheriff, and instead of sitting around feeling feelings, he's trying to do something, anything, to crack this case open…Coming across the footprint impressions marked with flags, he follows them…There are two distinctive paths, one coming, the other, the perpetrator had committed the crime, and was fleeing. Those imprints are deeper, wider yet with less definition around the edges. This thing was moving swiftly…Tripp walks along with the tracks to the edge of the field.
(SFX – corn rustles)
NARRATOR: In front of him, the rustling of the corn is hypnotic, and the darkness between the stalks is hollow and black, just like his dream…Tripp's unease almost keeps him from entering, but this is the real world, not a dream. So, he steps forward.
(SFX – footsteps)
NARRATOR: Hunting the prince, Tripp stalks along the path the monstrous miscreant took. With each step, the tracks get further and further apart to where the stride seems otherworldly. Scanning the ground with his flashlight, he spots something a few rows over…It's a dead rabbit. Visually inspecting the carcass, it doesn't seem to have anything to do with the crime, so he moves on.
(SFX – footsteps crunch on gravel)
NARRATOR: Tripp finally emerges from the path the figure cut. He sees the disturbance in the corn across the road, walking through the ditch onto the pavement, to the ditch on the other side. It's at least 40 feet across…He saw the video, and the glowing shape bound over the country road with the greatest of ease. The very thought of what he might be dealing with makes him shudder. But being there, on the spot, feet on the ground in this small town he grew up in, the actuality of what this thing could be isn't plausible…But the perplexity of it all temporarily fades when he notices another dead rabbit, a head in the tall grass. Something Lark said echoes in his head about looking at the world through the lens that crimes don't just happen for no reason, and every action and reaction connects…Off in the distance he catches sight of Polygon.
(MUSIC)
NARRATOR: The sun's breaking on the horizon as Tripp walks Polygon's outer fence line. He comes across more dead vermin near a drainpipe, raising his curiosity. Looking around, through the chain link, Tripp spots an empty space among buildings. Newer concrete, but there are dark black marks on the ground around it. At first he thinks it might be morning shadows, but it's not…It's something else…Something used to be there, but it's not anymore.
POLYGON SECURITY: Hey!
NARRATOR: His investigation is interrupted.
POLYGON SECURITY: You can't be here.
NARRATOR: Tripp turns to a spotlight on him from a Polygon SUV. Behind the wheel, the head of security. But when he sees who's at the fence...
POLYGON SECURITY: Sorry, Sheriff. I didn't realize it was you.
TRIPP: Say, when does the big boss get in?
(MUSIC)
NARRATOR: It's still early, as Tripp sits in the executive reception area in Polygon's corporate headquarters. In the waiting area, he studies a map on his cell phone. A satellite view of Polygon's south perimeter. Sure enough, a good-sized building used to sit on the empty spot he noticed…Eyes up from his phone, thinking, his gaze accidentally meets the receptionist, Joy. She's 29, blonde, glasses, shy, sitting at a Formica desk, wearing a headset. In their shared glance, smiles, and an air of intimate familiarity between them.
JOY: You look well.
TRIPP: Oh, thanks. You too.
JOY: I thought about visiting you while you were in the hospital, but...
TRIPP: You weren't under any obligation, and I wasn't much for visitors.
NARRATOR: He gets an understanding nod from Joy. Then he averts his eyes…She does too…A moment later, she sits up. Someone is talking to her through her headset.
JOY: Um, Mr. Galen will see you?
(MUSIC)
NARRATOR: In the office of head honcho, Greg Galen, Tripp sits, made to wait some more. He studies the walls, adorned with a slew of photographs, Galen posing with various celebrities and figures from the zeitgeist of the last few decades. There are also an obscene amount of plaques, awards, and commendations for charitable and philanthropic work. Galen is self-made, though his story mirrors a fair amount of other powerful people in the world. At one time, they were nobodies. Now they're obnoxiously rich, through a combination of hard work and luck…He got his start on Wall Street, then Tech, before founding his first business, an online medical supply company that rode the wave of the e-commerce boom. And that's how Polygon came to be. As the corporation has evolved, so has its mission, pioneering a comprehensive understanding of the mechanisms of evidence-based treatment validated through biological research, whatever that means. Polygon is a world leader in developing molecular medicine, solutions in biochemistry for Big Pharma, and advanced medical device engineering, which equates to money and lots of it.
(MUSIC)
NARRATOR: In a pure power move, being late just for the sake of keeping someone waiting, the titan of industry bounds in. He's a rather minuscule man, hair plugs, shrill voice. He wears a navy blazer and red ascot, a trademark look of his. He sits at his massive desk, framed by a large window overlooking the Polygon campus. He gives off a weird energy.
GALEN: It seems a little too premature for campaign fundraising. So what do I owe the pleasure, Sheriff?
TRIPP: I just stopped by with a few questions.
GALEN: Whoa, I'm not under arrest, am I? I kid, of course. And you needed to see me specifically, why?
TRIPP: I was just over at the Marsh Farm.
GALEN: Terrible what happened. I know operations in legal are assisting. Let us know if there's anything else we can do.
TRIPP: Uh, sure.
NARRATOR: Derailed a bit by Galen's fervor, it takes Tripp a moment to rebound.
TRIPP: I was walking the road and came across some dead animals, all the way to your drainage ditch. There were more than a few.
NARRATOR: An annoyed head turn from Galen. His time is way too valuable for insignificant stuff like this. But he's also savvy and picks up that the sheriff is not so subtly inferring something about Polygon…Regardless, he remains cordial.
GALEN: Simple explanation. Rats, rodents, rabbits, shrews are all over the grounds here. And they all like to eat the organic polymers we use in some of our plastic molds. It's sweet to them. Pest control sprays, nothing toxic, just poisonous to, well, vermin…We even have a guy whose sole job it is to drive around and pick up dead things. Again, nothing dangerous. We're in strict compliance with all EPA, HHS, and state regulations…Now, if you don't mind.
TRIPP: Can you tell me about the building closest to the southeast corner of the perimeter fence?
NARRATOR: Tripp's interruption elicits a slight hint of annoyance on Galen's face.
GALEN: I'm not sure I know which.
TRIPP: The one that's not there anymore.
GALEN: There's always construction in the works.
NARRATOR: Tripp flashes the map image on his phone of the building. Galen thinks on it a moment. He relaxes his body, erasing any micro-expressions he was wearing.
GALEN: I think that was an old maintenance shed. I believe it was demolished.
TRIPP: Why?
GALEN: Some of the buildings here predate us. When this was Emerald Lakes Air Force Base, Uncle Sam constructed some amazing structures, but over time, they've had to be replaced…Is there anything else I can help you with?
TRIPP: Do you know any reason why someone would want Adam and Maggie Marsh dead?
NARRATOR: A tough question to ask, and Galen could react or express any of a range of emotions and come across genuine, but instead remains still, aloof. Then after a moment...
GALEN: It's anyone's guess. Now, if you don't mind, I have a busy, busy, busy, busy day...
NARRATOR: Galen stands, motioning to the door. Tripp gets to his feet and makes his way out…As he walks through the reception area, Joy pops her head up and smiles. Tripp tips his hat as he gets on the elevator.
(MUSIC)
NARRATOR: Main Street, downtown Stanfield. As Tripp heads to the station, he notices the town square, usually bustling, is nearly empty. Raj scurries by with his mail bag.
RAJ: Tripp, is it true about the Phantom?
NARRATOR: Tripp furrows his brow, not sure what he's talking about. Raj points to a newspaper box…The still image from the video of the figure is front page news, with the headline, Phantom on the Loose. Tripp takes it in with a scowl…Then ahead, more bad news, the mayor blocks his path, newspaper in hand.
MAYOR: Sheriff, the Harvest Festival is supposed to be a big celebration. We're gonna be honoring Greg Galen.
TRIPP: Sorry, I got bigger things to worry about at the moment.
MAYOR: This town was withering than nothing before I was elected. I brought jobs, money, a future. Without Polygon, there's no stand field. Outlandish stories don't help with long-term growth or economic stability.
NARRATOR: Feeling his stress levels rising, Tripp slips past her, but she's not done.
MAYOR: Get ahead of this mess or it's your ass.
(MUSIC)
NARRATOR: Some cases are cut and dry, easy to solve, but others present challenges. Slow lines emerge as a picture is being drawn at a snail's pace. But the strokes linger, remaining abstract, and don't always connect or make sense on the canvas. Investigating, like art, takes time. So Tripp and Arlo are forced to go back and examine every bit of evidence and corroboration. One of the only things to go on at the moment is taking a closer look at the citizens of Stanfield.
(SFX – church bells)
NARRATOR: Somber gray clouds add to the dour atmosphere as mourners gather for Adam and Maggie's funeral. But there's more in the air than just storm clouds, as everyone seems on edge. Nearly the whole town is in attendance despite the grumblings of dislike for the marshes. Arlo and Tripp hang in the parking lot with eyes on the crowd filtering in.
TRIPP: Are you gonna go in?
ARLO: I'm not big on funerals. Losing my dad, your mom, almost losing you.
NARRATOR: He stops short of sharing real feelings. Arlo's always been like that. Not that feelings aren't important. He's just not keen on delving too deep. Though by standards of the past, his father, Edwin, was a lot more closed off than Arlo is. Back to their surveillance.
TRIPP: The phantom, really?
ARLO: It gets people talking…That's the whole point. It's how we got.
TRIPP: I know. A call came into the tip line. A suspicious man was at the grocery store. A harrowing chase. A showdown with the notorious Butcher.
ARLO: But it worked.
(MUSIC – funeral march)
NARRATOR: Inside, the pastor stands by two coffins as he delivers a sermon.
PASTOR: Adam and Maggie, both, had the unique ability to make everyone feel comfortable.
NARRATOR: Tripp is stationed in the back, hat off, watching the crowd. Family and friend’s weep. Others roll their eyes.
PASTOR: Married nearly two decades? It's easy to look back over those years with so much joy and happiness.
NARRATOR: More hyperbole, painting a rosy picture of the imperfections we all share. Tripp thinks to himself, how will he be remembered when it's all said and done? Deep in thought, he catches a kid in the last row, staring back at him. The boy is looking at Tripp's scar. He tries to ignore it, act like it doesn't bother him, but it does…Moments later, Arlo rushes in, silently getting Tripp's attention. They've got a hit.
(SFX – driving)
NARRATOR: A few counties over, near the Indiana border, sits the small, incorporated municipality of Weaverville. A fraction of the size of Stanfield, it can best be described as a one-horse town. A sparse main drag, lined with older, decaying brick buildings. A place truly forgotten by time.
(SFX – car brakes)
NARRATOR: Tripp and Arlo pull up to Police Chief Earl Stark. He's a young 67, African American, a cool drink of water. He waits outside in the gravel parking lot of the high school football field, a manila envelope tucked under his arm…He greets them as they get out.
STARK: Arlo Ellis, how you doing? It's been a spell.
ARLO: How you doing, Stark?
STARK: Been a hell of a lot better, and you must be the world-famous Tripp.
NARRATOR: A welcoming, hearty handshake from Stark. The way he carries himself, his demeanor. It'd be hard not to like this guy.
STARK: Your daddy used to talk a storm about you. I'm happy to finally be meeting you in the flesh.
NARRATOR: Tripp answers with a modest smile, but down to business as Stark motions for them to follow him to the field. The gates are locked.
(SFX – unlock padlock)
NARRATOR: The football field should be manicured and maintained, ready for the glories of Friday nights under the lights. But instead, the grass is overgrown, neglected. Trash is strewn about, sun faded, dropped where people once stood, in a hurry to leave, left to decay in the elements. Tripp and Arlo walk towards the stands as Stark talks.
STARK: Happened last Halloween. Field's been closed ever since. The school board suspended sports indefinitely. The consensus was, how do you come back after something like that? I don't disagree.
TRIPP: And you think it connects to our case somehow?
STARK: Details differ, but the MO is too dang strange not to connect. Albeit evolved. Whatever's in that photo of yours is our Warlock.
NARRATOR: Looks from Tripp and Arlo.
STARK: My deputy named it. He's into all that dragons and wizard shit. But I'd say a more apt name would be The Devil.
NARRATOR: Stark's story, an eye-opening and dreadful tale, happened not a year ago.
(SFX – football crowd)
NARRATOR: October 31st, All Hallows Eve, which just so happened to fall on a Friday, in a high school football game. Homecoming, the bleachers packed, Weaverville playing rival Willow Pond. In the crowd, some wear masks, others are dressed in costumes, celebrating the pagan holiday. The atmosphere is spirited.
(SFX – cheering)
NARRATOR: In the stands, Embry Fisher and his wife Doris concentrate on the game more than anyone else around them. Their son Evan, an all-conference linebacker, is playing, and college scouts are in attendance to see him.
DORIS: I'm so nervous. I know Evan is too.
EMBRY: He just needs to cover the middle and watch the run. The tight end Willow Pond has is undersized and can't block with a spin. So Evan should shine. And you'll be fine too.
DORIS: Will you look at that? I just bought this sweater, and it already has a thread hanging.
EMBRY: Well, don't pull it. You'll only make it worse.
(SFX – pocketknife clicks open)
NARRATOR: With his trusty pocketknife, it's Embry to the rescue. He gently cuts the thread with a smile…Fourth down and Weaverville punts the ball. Their defense takes the field.
EMBRY: Oh, Evan's up. Here we go.
DORIS: Oh, there he is. My baby boy looks so good in his uniform.
(SFX – referee whistle)
NARRATOR: Half time. It's a close game, but Evan is playing well…After making the rounds, visiting with other proud football parents, Embry excuses himself, needing to see a man about a horse.
(SFX – restroom atmosphere)
NARRATOR: As he enters the men's room at the high school stadium, the urinals are occupied, and so are the stalls, except the last one.
(SFX – stall door locks)
NARRATOR: A few moments later, the bathroom has cleared, just as the third quarter is getting underway…Business complete…
(SFX – stall door unlocks)
NARRATOR: Embry steps from the stall and heads to the sink to wash up. A figure wearing a hoodie, a skull mask, and skeleton gloves creeps from a stall, suspiciously lurking behind him. Embry catches sight of the shape in the mirror, thinking it's simply someone waiting their turn to use the sink.
EMBRY: Sorry, pardon me.
NARRATOR: Embry quickly dries his hands with a paper towel, and as he turns to get out of the way, the figure sprays a mist from a small hand-held canister right in Embry's face.
(STING)
NARRATOR: Stunned, Embry backpedals, rubbing his eyes, the figure hastily makes their escape.
(SFX – football sounds)
NARRATOR: Stumbling back to his seat, Embry's distraught, his face flush, irritated, eyes red and watery…When Doris sees him...
DORIS: Sweetie, what happened?
NARRATOR: Suddenly dizzy, Embry falls into his seat in a daze, but there's something else going on. His pupils dilate, his heart races a mile a minute.
DORIS: You don't look good. Embry? (echoed) Embry? Are you having a medical emergency?
NARRATOR: He's unable to speak for some reason…Worried, Doris hurries off to get help…Alone, Embry's feeling weird outside of his own body. He can't sit still.
(SFX – disembodied voices)
NARRATOR: He's hearing voices, and he uncomfortably feels eyes staring at him. Embry concentrates his gaze on a spectator next to him. The man can feel Embry's unblinking glare fixed on him and tries to ignore it…But a deep darkness is creeping, growing inside Embry, as he's seeing things that aren't there. His hand snakes into his pocket, stealthily pulling his pocketknife, as the morphing visions turn from strange to disturbing, then utterly terrifying.
(SFX – pocketknife clicks open)
NARRATOR: Alarms for the urgent need to violently defend himself against what he sees sound off in his mind…Truly believing his life is in grave peril, Embry savagely stabs the spectator next to him. Those around him are slow to react, thinking it's a Halloween gag. But Embry, in a fit of uncontrollable rage, slashes at others.
(SFX – crowd screams)
NARRATOR: In a panic, the crowd disburses, just as Doris, returning with EMTs, doesn't know what's transpired.
DORIS: Embry!
NARRATOR: As the sea of retreating spectators part, Embry, now full on berserk, lunges, attacking and slashing at anything that moves, including Doris…Out of his own mind, he jumps on her, viciously stabbing her over and over…In reality, he has no idea what he's doing.
(SFX – referee whistle)
NARRATOR: On the field, the game stops, both sides distracted at the pandemonium erupting in the stands. Embry's son, Evan, watches, looking for his parents.
(SFX – crowd screams)
NARRATOR: In the stands, Chief Stark and his deputy fight through the terrified crowd…As they reach the road, with bodies littered around him, Embry turns his frenzied rampage towards them.
(SFX – gunshots)
STARK: He came at me with a knife. It all happened so fast, I didn't have a choice. In the back of the ambulance, Embry Fisher finally came down from his rabid state long enough to tell us what had happened…Then he died.
NARRATOR: Beside themselves, there's silence between Tripp and Arlo, letting it sink in.
ARLO: So, what was it? What made him do it?
NARRATOR: Stark hands over the case file he's been holding.
STARK: Mushrooms, the magic kind. The dose was so high, so concentrated, like nothing the coroner or doctor or anyone else had ever seen…But the first thing that came to my mind was Hickory. I grew up there. I was 12 when it all went down. I'll never forget Thornapple as long as I live.
NARRATOR: The mention draws a telling look from Arlo. Tripp isn’t clued in to what they're talking about, and Stark sees it.
STARK: Tripp, you need to ask your old man for a history lesson in pure hate.
(MUSIC)
NARRATOR: Learning from the past is a way to create a better version of society. A benevolent sentiment, but one fraught with flaws. To grow from history, you must acknowledge all of it, no matter what, good, bad, or ugly. But there are crimes and atrocities that have been perpetrated throughout time, ignored and forgotten for the wickedness, cruelty, and violence wrought…What happened in Hickory is one of those evils…The town, a predominantly black community, was founded around the turn of the century. Situated near the sprawling Vermilion River, the soil was thick with shale and sandstone and believed not suitable for farming. Plots were put up for sale at bargain basement prices, but no one was interested. So, the children and grandchildren of former slaves catching wind and seeking their own peace of the American Dream bought the land in droves. And thus, Hickory was born…It was a quiet, cloistered community where businesses thrived, and deep roots were planted. In the mid-1960s, reservoirs of natural gas and petroleum were discovered nearby, and it was believed Hickory was sitting atop of one of the largest deposits in the state. Seeing the potential, southern business magnate Melvin Thorpe offered to buy Hickory from the townsfolk for an underwhelming price. They weren't interested…Not to be dissuaded, Thorpe took his fight to the courts, but after years of unsuccessful challenges to take the land and exhausting all legal avenues, Thorpe employed the time-honored method of fear and intimidation to get what he wanted.
(MUSIC – ominous)
NARRATOR: During the summer of 1969, under the cover of night, Thorpe and an accomplice would stalk the streets of Hickory, spreading a different type of terror. Using a concentrated toxic gas that incorporated thornapple, an invasive poisonous flowering plant known to cause intense hallucinogenic effects, Thorpe and his partner appearing as a lone assailant would spray the chemicals into homes. The psychoactive effects of the gas would cause affected citizens to indiscriminately attack one another in murderous rampages. Knowing something sinister was at play, townsfolk formed nightly posses to patrol the streets, hoping to thwart the gassings. But as the attacks increased and the violence escalated, the National Guard was sent to quell reports of the spontaneous outbreaks of carnage. Pleading their case for help, local authorities would dismiss the claims of the marauding gasser in Hickory as nothing more than mass hysteria. Thorpe and his collaborator, a bigoted chemistry professor from a local university named Silas Redgrave, were eventually exposed with the help of white sympathetic law enforcement from neighboring counties, including Tripp's grandfather, Edwin…But the damage was already done. The once vibrant town would wither as scared citizens packed up one by one, seeking refuge from the open prairies in bigger cities. Powerful corporations swooped in, picking the carcass of Hickory apart, eventually transforming it into the Midwest's largest gas refinery operation…But for people like Chief Stark, the memory of Hickory would never be forgotten. And as Arlo tells his son the dark tale, a recurring thread of death in the Heartland begins to emerge in the back of Tripp's mind…Though, as he and the rest of us will learn, there's much more to all of this story.
(SFX – driving)
NARRATOR: For now, back in the cruiser, Tripp drives. As Arlo looks over the file Chief Stark gave them, it's a fascinating reed beyond the scope of the attack at the football field.
TRIPP: How does our culprit graduate from brazenly targeting people in public to quietly poisoning people where they live? And what's Fisher's connection?
ARLO: Looking at this, Fisher kind of had a pedestrian life. Worked as an occupational safety instructor, Elk’s Club, pillar of the community and all. Maybe he was a test. Could be our perp wanted to see if he could go through with it. Picked him out of a crowd.
TRIPP: But don't you start softly, then build to something louder?
ARLO: It still feels like a statement's being made. I just don't know what.
TRIPP: Every action and reaction connects to something.
ARLO: Too bad it'll be months before evidence can be tested.
NARRATOR: Tripp gives his father the first confident look in a long time…As he's taking him to Eau de Nil High School, to the science lab…
(SFX – high school ambience)
NARRATOR: Ava posts images on a bulletin board. First, the good news.
AVA: I found ten identical signifiers between your two crime scenes. All flower pollen, all exact matches.
NARRATOR: Now, the bad…
AVA: There are 369,000 species of flowering plants, so it's going to take time to narrow them down.
TRIPP: There might be a connecting case. A high dose of mushrooms were used as a poison to kill someone.
NARRATOR: Ava gives a quick once over at Embry Fisher's Toxicology Report knowing what to look for.
AVA: Traces of olive oil found in the lungs was most likely used as a binder for the poison. Your suspect is really into organics.
ARLO: Great. An eco-terrorist. Maybe we stake out the farmer's markets.
NARRATOR: Ava smiles and Tripp shakes his head at Arlo's bad dad joke.
(MUSIC)
NARRATOR: As Stanfield's finest head for their cruiser, a renewed sense of optimism is palpable between father and son. But Arlo feels the need to temper expectations.
ARLO: You do know whatever she finds may not hold up in a court of law.
TRIPP: I get that, but we need leads. We can always retest stuff later. Ava assured me she's doing all she can, handling the evidence and keeping her findings above board.
NARRATOR: Seeing Tripp talk and carry himself in such a professional manner makes Arlo crack a smile, and it's hard for him to admit, but...
ARLO: You're doing a good job. Getting creative, working a complex case. It's not easy to do.
NARRATOR: Those words mean more to Tripp than Arlo realizes. But there will be more time to bask in praise and plaudits when and if they can solve these crimes and catch who or whatever is responsible.
(SFX – crickets trill)
NARRATOR: Back in Stanfield, at home, Tripp sits on the front porch with his laptop. Video chatting with Lark. On screen, Lark is at her apartment. She looks tired.
TRIPP: Any leads on your bomber?
LARK: (over computer) I can't say much. Other than, we might be close.
TRIPP: That's good, isn't it?
LARK: (over computer) Not until a suspect is in custody…I saw your case made the news. That photograph of your perp is something else. Not sure chasing ghosts is entirely good.
TRIPP: I was of the same mind, but it opened the door to a possible connection. A case, last year, from a few counties over. But the victims still aren't lining up at all.
LARK: (over computer) Dig deep. Anything remotely intersecting can be helpful.
TRIPP: We've done backgrounds, but no links, just parallels. But the forensics help you steered me towards might have legs.
LARK: (over computer) The FBI folks I talked to raved over Ava, but I'll do you one better.
(SFX – typing)
NARRATOR: Lark sends an email…It pops up on Tripp's screen with a document attached.
LARK: (over computer) I had access to an FBI geographical analysis program. I ran keywords associated with your case. It's a list, limited to a 50-mile radius. People who have had access to either toxic or chemical substances on the EPA's high-concern list.
NARRATOR: Tripp scans the document…Brian Dobbs' name, among many others on the list, quickly catches his attention.
LARK: (over computer) A disclaimer. That list doesn't exist. Got it?
TRIPP: Yep.
LARK: (over computer) You know, I hate to admit it, but I'm starting to miss Stanfield.
TRIPP: Maybe you should come back when your case wraps up.
LARK: (over computer) And what? Run for sheriff?
TRIPP: I welcome any and all challengers, but just so you know, an Ellis has been law around here since 1964.
LARK: (over computer) How about this? To keep the streak alive, I'll keep Yon as my deputy.
NARRATOR: They share a comfortable smile. Tripp doesn't know how far along he'd be without Lark's help. It's good to have a friend to lean on.
NARRATOR: To be continued.
(MUSIC – outro)
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