Strange Harvest (2024) Movie Script

1
There's still
so many things
we don't understand
about this case,
and probably never will.
We just had bits and pieces
of some kind
of strange puzzle.
And even if we could put them
all together,
I don't know if I want to see
whatever picture they make.
Yeah.
Uh-huh.
My name is Joseph Kirby.
I'm a former
lead detective sergeant
in San Bernardino County.
I was supervising
the Major Crimes Unit
between 2007 and 2015.
San Bernardino County
is about 60 miles east
of Los Angeles.
It is a part of California's
Inland Empire region.
We have a population
of about two million.
We've seen
our share of violent crimes,
gang-related homicides,
relatively large-scale
drug busts,
what have you.
We probably run
upwards of 65 murders a year
in the San Bernardino County
Sheriff's Homicide Bureau,
which is higher
than the national average.
But I had never seen
anything like what happened
to the Sheridan family
on Alton Avenue.
Nobody had.
911,
what is your emergency?
My name...
My name is Kacie Porter,
and I was friends
with Tiffany Sheridan.
Our kids went
to the same elementary school.
When you have kids that age,
and you meet a lot of parents
that you don't always care for,
but Tiff and I,
we just hit it off.
We were supposed to meet
at this restaurant for lunch,
but she never showed,
and I just...
I figured she had forgotten,
so I let it go.
But then Lauren came home,
and she said
that Sam hadn't been
to school in a few days.
And, um, I kept calling
and I kept texting,
but I never got a reply back.
And I just knew,
in the back of my head,
that something is wrong.
I'm Will Martinez.
I'm a deputy sheriff
with the San Bernardino
Sheriff's Department.
Me and my partner
were the first officers
to arrive on scene.
We got a call
regarding a welfare check
for a residence
in the Shandin Hills.
Nice area.
It was a gated community,
as I remember.
The whole thing felt weird.
Something about it
was just off.
Police department!
Police department!
Anybody home?
We need to go around.
Police department! Anyone home?
My partner called out,
identified ourselves again,
but there was no movement.
Hello?
Anybody home?
Mother of God.
This was a crime scene.
Oh,
what happened to them...
I think about it every day.
I have nightmares about it.
Why them?
That... was a bad day.
When I saw that, I was...
floored.
I looked at my partner
and I said,
"Oh, my God, he's back."
Hi.
My name's Lexi Taylor.
I'm a senior homicide detective
for the San Bernardino P.D.
I worked as a patrol officer
for about nine years
before being offered
a job in the homicide bureau,
and that's when I started
working with my partner,
Joe Kirby.
Growing up,
my mom worked two jobs
to support me
and my older brother.
There was a rotating door
of less-than-great men,
you would say,
come and go in our life.
I think that's
when I first started
thinking that,
maybe, I would like
to try to help people.
You know,
maybe I could help someone
like my mom
out of a tough situation.
I actually never intended
to be a cop.
I had aspirations of being
a drummer in a metal band.
But one of my friend's brothers
was in the Academy,
and I thought it sounded cool.
I liked how you had
to think on your feet,
use your brain
as well as your body.
After a couple of days
in training,
I was hooked, man.
That is
how I have always approached
my career in law enforcement.
Try to be there for people
when things are at their worst.
And, fuck, it was never worse
than on this case.
Between 1993 and 1995,
there were three murders
in Riverside
and San Bernardino County
that we eventually
realized were serial murders,
and which had
some ritualistic aspects.
I think this is it.
Yeah.
Okay, she was covered
with a blue tarp.
You could see it
easily from the road.
This is a service road,
not a lot of people
come down it.
It was just horrible.
I mean, you never expect
to see something like that.
On August 8th, 1993,
the torso of 24-year-old
Shifra Gutierrez
is discovered
in San Bernardino
National Forest.
She had been dismembered.
Her genitals mutilated.
The uterus removed.
The coroner gave
a best-guess estimate
she had been there two weeks,
but it's difficult to tell.
Shifra was my best friend
in high school.
She was a dope bitch.
She just had
this joy for living,
and this lust for life,
you know?
And she was funny as fuck.
She wasn't a bad person.
You know, she just...
I don't know, she just
got into some bad shit,
like a lot of people
out here do.
I was always telling her,
I was like,
"This is dangerous, Shifra.
You know,
you gotta stop doing this."
Oh, shit, I said
I wasn't going to do this.
There's an area off the 91
in the Casablanca
neighborhood,
and that's where Shifra
was last seen.
We do know she went up
to a room at a motel
called Dean's Corner that was
frequented by sex workers.
And there was
a man with her, but...
clerk couldn't remember
what he looked like.
He could've killed her there.
Could've been strangulation,
for example.
We'll probably never know.
What we do know for sure
is that she was somehow moved
from that room
without anybody noticing.
Or somebody noticed
and just didn't care.
But we got our first lead.
A name.
All guests
had to fill out a ledger,
and the suspect
had written down
the name Albert Shiny.
And the case went cold.
I don't need to tell you that,
especially at that time,
sex workers
and marginalized people
tended to get
the short end of the stick
in the criminal justice system.
I'm not saying it was right.
I'm just saying it was,
and is the reality.
So, it was written off
as an isolated incident.
But we were wrong.
A grisly crime scene
has police on high alert
in Arlanza tonight,
not far from the Riverside
Municipal Airport,
where the body of 82-year-old
Ambrose Griffith
was discovered murdered
in his apartment
earlier today.
Mr. Griffith was disabled
and, apparently,
suffered from MDS,
a blood condition
that required daily assistance
from a caretaker.
Nine months after
Shifra Gutierrez is killed,
Ambrose Griffith
is found murdered
in his assisted
living facility.
On the night of June 3rd, 1994,
someone scaled the back side
of his building
and entered his unit
through a sliding glass door
that was apparently
left unlocked.
He was bludgeoned
with an oxygen tank
that was in his room,
and then stabbed
more than 30 times
with a box cutter.
That was brutal.
And you gotta understand,
this guy was bedbound.
I mean, he could not walk,
or could barely walk,
on his own.
So, he was totally defenseless
to the attack,
which was
obviously unprovoked.
No one else in the building
heard so much as a peep
from his room.
So, it must've happened fast,
which is...
some comfort, I guess.
One of his eyes
was also removed.
It was a sloppy scene.
A murder committed
by somebody in a frenzy
who was not thinking it
through at all.
It's probably why we were able
to get our first real clue.
The print was run
through the system,
but nothing came back.
The lab guys
stayed on it for weeks,
but it was only a partial.
No motive.
82-year-old victim
with no family and few friends,
except the few people
that lived in his building
who were just
as sick as he was.
So, the police didn't make
any connection
with the Gutierrez murder.
Not yet.
It's okay. It's okay.
It's okay. It's okay.
We want to thank everyone
from the Riverside
Police Department
with their continued support.
Someone out there
knows what happened
to our little boy, and...
and...
We are begging
for you to help us
return him home
safely and unharmed.
Noah Lafone
was abducted
while walking home from school
on October 7th, 1995.
He was 12 years old.
There were no witnesses,
and pretty much
no information to go on.
There was
a pretty extensive search
and media effort this time
to try to find him.
We were doing door-to-doors.
This was the first case
I was on involving a child,
so I really threw myself
into it.
I'd get off work and I'd go
join Search and Rescue.
People put
in hundreds of hours,
but days turned into weeks
and it gets harder and harder
to stay positive.
Three months later, in January,
his body is discovered
in a shallow creek
near Silverwood Lake.
He had been weighed down
by concrete bricks,
and his body
was in pretty bad shape.
There were
multiple lacerations
to his abdomen,
and his liver
had been removed.
Twelve years old.
Whole life ahead of him.
Poof.
We also found a box cutter,
the weapon,
as well as Noah's
school backpack
and all its contents.
This is where we got
our second lead.
It was a page
that had been written on
and then torn out,
but you could still see
an imprint.
Kaliban.
What the heck was kaliban?
A bird from the Caribbean,
we found out.
Or a character
from Shakespeare.
I mean, was this
some kind of a code?
Was this
another Zodiac Killer?
Then, two weeks after
his body was discovered,
the Riverside Police Department
received a letter in the mail.
Provided details
of the three killings.
It was unreleased information
only the police would know,
which basically proves
whoever wrote it
was the killer,
or at least someone
who had direct contact
with the killer.
And there was a message.
Thanks for not catching me.
Learned a lot.
Ten transits remain,
isn't it insane?
I'll be back.
Was he telling us he was
planning on killing ten more?
Was that what he meant?
This was the first time
we realized
this was
an actual serial killer.
It's worth mentioning
the jurisdictional problems
that can arise when someone
commits a murder
across county lines.
It can make connecting them
a lot more difficult.
But this guy wanted us to know.
He wanted us
to know what he did,
and that he wasn't finished.
And he signs the letter
with that symbol.
Years went by.
The cases went cold.
Detectives at that time figured
whoever was responsible
for the three deaths
was either incarcerated
for another crime
or had died,
because they probably
wouldn't have stopped killing
on their own.
But as soon as I saw
that symbol on the ceiling,
I realized that was
the killer from '95.
He wasn't bluffing
in his letter.
He hadn't stopped.
He'd just taken
a 15-year break.
Why?
We're still trying
to figure that one out.
One thing's for sure.
If his first murder
spree had felt sloppy
and unplanned,
this new one was anything but.
The suspect
gained entry
through the first
floor bathroom window,
cut through a screen
on the side of the house,
then attacks Ted and Tiffany
sometime after 1:15 a.m.,
after Tiffany sends
her last work email.
There was bruising
on Ted's face.
Struck by a blunt object.
We think the suspect probably
roughed him up
as a form of intimidation,
and convinced him and Tiffany
to go downstairs willingly.
This little girl, Samantha...
Yeah, it looks like she put up
more of a fight.
Some of the furniture
in her room,
her comforter,
all disturbed and in disarray.
The suspect zip-ties
their hands and feet,
wraps duct tape
around their mouths.
You see,
this guy had gotten smarter.
He'd learned
from the murders in '95.
Less sloppy, more methodical.
I mean, the buckets?
What the fuck?
Pardon my French.
He ties the three of them
to chairs
around the dining room.
Deliberately facing each other,
do you understand?
He places their feet
in these five-gallon
painters buckets.
He prepared these things
ahead of time.
Like,
they had their names on them.
Literally.
Like, "Ted," "Tiffany,"
"Samantha" written out.
He draws three lines
on each of them,
like the kind you'd find
on a measuring cup.
Except this wasn't
for measuring out rice.
It was for their blood.
By volume.
Going.
Going.
Gone.
The suspect used a box cutter
to make a small,
six-centimeter incision
through the skin
on each victim.
And the result
was fatal blood loss.
There's about a gallon
and a half of blood
in the human body.
It takes maybe 15 minutes
for that to drain out,
but you can be dead
in as soon as three.
The femoral artery
is at your groin,
basically the top
of your thigh.
If you're sitting upright,
gravity just kind
of does its thing.
The technical term
for this is exsanguination.
Part of what really
earns that term,
"ritualistic,"
in my opinion,
is anything done post-mortem.
So, in a normal homicide,
you stab a person,
shoot a person,
you get the heck out of there.
You don't stick around.
Every second you wait
is another second
to get caught.
From what we can put together,
our suspect hung around
another two hours at least.
He leaves the house,
comes back
with a 24-foot extension ladder
that he gets from his vehicle,
and then he goes to work
painting this thing
on the ceiling.
And it's not a small room,
and he goes
almost wall to wall.
It's almost 20 feet.
And he does a good job.
He's careful,
does a couple of layers,
almost no drips on the floor.
Then he positions the bodies.
And all this
he does without any neighbors
hearing a sound
or seeing a thing.
No fingerprints,
no DNA left at the scene.
No motive.
No relation to the victims.
Three days later,
another letter arrives
in the mail.
Hope you blue baddies
are having fun chasing my tail
because the harvest
has just begun,
and reaping's so much fun!
A gruesome discovery
was made just this morning
by a jogger
of a human head here,
in Perris Hill Park.
The jogger, Chelsea Lunsford,
has been coming here
every weekday morning
for two years.
She enjoys the serenity
of the landscape,
and was not prepared
for what she would find.
My friend was just telling me
how I should bring a mace
or a stun gun
or something with me
when I go running, and...
Yeah, I guess she was right.
On the night
of November 8th,
the suspect entered the home
of the two victims,
Tamara Latour
and her boyfriend,
Glen Sandweiss,
through a dog door
in the back of the house.
They were watching TV
in the living room.
The volume was up,
which allowed him to sneak up
on them undetected
until the last minute.
According to Mr. Sandweiss,
he attacks Tamara first,
uses a stun gun
to incapacitate her.
We think the suspect
was not expecting Sandweiss
to be home.
Sandweiss says
that he seems confused.
There's a brief struggle
before Sandweiss
is overpowered by the suspect,
brought to the floor.
That's when the attack
with the propane torch begins.
He literally burns
this guy's face off.
Is there anything else
you can remember
that will help us
catch who did this?
What the fuck is happening?
Oh, God,
what am I going to do?
What do you want to know?
The fuck you think I haven't?
You really think
I was going to be able
to be a teacher
looking like this?
Standing up in front
of a group of fifth-graders?
They'd be terrified.
Doing what?
Telling my story?
Huh?
Trying to be inspirational?
I can't work.
Got no friends.
Nerve damage.
Feels like my face
is on fire all the time.
I'm already dead, man.
I'm just not in the ground...
like Tamara is.
Fuck!
You... You got what you need.
I'm fucking done.
Get my money and get the fuck
out of my house.
Tamara's head,
the sculpture,
the weird trinkets
on the ground,
all of it was
carefully examined.
And, once again,
no fingerprints,
no DNA left behind.
We had nothing.
Until we got lucky.
A woman who works
at the strip mall
down the street from the park
said she had seen a guy
with a truck
unloading several garbage bags
into a dumpster
the morning of the murder.
White truck,
red lettering, she said.
So, we pulled footage
from the Credit Union's ATM
at the strip mall and...
It wasn't a great angle,
but it did catch something.
The owner
of the white truck,
Victor Shamaz,
was a 45-year-old man
living in Riverside
who had a small house
painting business.
He had a rap sheet.
It was relatively clean.
Few minor narcotics citations,
a B&E from a decade earlier.
But he had a restraining order
taken out against him recently
for apparently stalking
a woman he met online.
That didn't sit well with us.
We called him
in for questioning
and he agreed.
Mr. Shamaz,
thank you for meeting
with us today.
Yeah. It's...
Yeah. Just, you know,
wanted to help.
So, just to be clear,
Shamaz continues to claim
he has no knowledge
of any crimes,
that he simply didn't notice
his work truck was stolen.
We asked him
if he'd be willing to take
a polygraph test,
to which he agrees.
Is your name
Victor Shamaz?
- Yes.
- He bombs
the polygraph test
about as badly as you can.
Chose to be evasive,
or lying about nearly
every question asked.
In fact,
the only question he actually
appears to tell the truth
on are his name and address.
Of course, polygraph tests
aren't always accurate,
and they're
not admissible in court.
It's just a useful tool.
But it was pretty obvious
Shamaz was lying.
So, Shamaz manages
to get himself arrested
after it's discovered
he's carrying
a fairly large amount
of methamphetamine
and an unregistered handgun.
Looks like Shamaz
was trying to skip town.
I, uh, just wanted to come
and clear the air, you know?
I was at this Quick-N-Go...
Okay, slow down.
It became evident
Shamaz wasn't our guy.
I mean, he was a scumbag,
but he wasn't our scumbag
and he didn't really
know anything.
Although he did give us
one new piece of information.
No, I... Yeah, I saw him.
I should've mentioned
that, but...
He started
wearing a mask.
That meant only one thing.
He'd seen us on the news
and knew we were
actively pursuing him.
Oh, he wanted to make that loud
and clear in his next letter.
So close, yet so far!
How frustrating that must be.
The great Shambler
arrives at the gate.
We will all perish
in a flesh mausoleum
but be reborn amidst
wonder and glory forever.
A few months go by,
nothing new happens.
And of course,
a part of me is thinking,
hoping, maybe that's it.
Maybe it's already over
and this guy's finished.
Yeah, but another part of me,
the cynical part,
knows it can't be true.
He'll let us know
when he's finished.
It's about 6:00 in the morning
and I get a call from Joe.
They found another body.
Earlier this morning,
a horrific discovery
was reported to police here,
at the North Riverside
Aquatic Center.
This was a bad one.
A group of skate kids broke
into the building
to check the place out
and smoke weed.
You know, just a couple
of dumb teenagers.
They're not going to be doing
that again anytime soon.
When you first saw the body,
it looked like...
like it was covered
in mud or slime or something,
'cause it was so shiny.
Coroner's official
cause of death?
Fatal loss of blood
by leeches.
Victim's name
was Dennis Zao,
a 43-year-old
Chinese immigrant
living in Riverside.
He was last seen leaving
an apartment he shared
with several other people
to catch a bus
and was never seen again.
Body's found four days later,
and he had only been deceased
less than a day.
Our suspect
had been breeding them, right?
This particular type of leech
takes about three weeks
for the eggs
to form and hatch,
then another two weeks
to reach maturity.
So, he'd been preparing
this thing for over a month.
Coming here, day after day,
checking in on his babies,
feeding them,
keeping their water clean,
checking the pH.
He might be a monster,
but he does have some kind
of paternal instinct.
Then he abducts Dennis Zao
and brings him here,
strips him naked,
puts him in the water.
He creates this barrier
around the deep end
and all along the edges
so he can't get out
no matter how hard he tries.
Then he begins releasing
these things in the pool.
The species found in the pool
with Mr. Zao
is called H. stagnalis.
In the case of H. Stagnalis,
it has this sucker
on the front of its body
that it uses
to attach to the host.
They have three small jaws
that create
a Y-shaped incision.
It's how they get
the tasty paydirt.
Leeches will consume up
to ten times
their own body weight
in blood,
which sounds like a lot
but it's really...
It's like two teaspoons.
This bloodletting-by-leeches
process went on for nearly
three straight days.
The suspect
just methodically keeps
fishing out full leeches,
adding more empties,
on and on...
as Dennis Zao becomes
more and more incapacitated.
I've always been lousy
at math, but, basically,
it took a shit ton of leeches
to kill Dennis Zao.
Eventually, after he was naked
in this filthy,
leech-filled water,
he finally succumbed
to his injuries.
Oh, and the reason no one
ever hears screaming
from the building?
Zao's tongue was cut out.
A leech bite
looks a little like
the symbol, doesn't it?
See how it's
sort of a triangle?
But like most clues,
this just led
to more questions.
What do these dots mean?
What the hell am I looking at?
We later figured out
that the suspect
first got in contact
with Mr. Zao
because of a Craigslist ad
he posted.
They had exchanged
a few messages
and then arranged
to meet up for sex
at a motel down the street
from the pool.
This finally led
to the big break in the case.
Our technicians were able
to identify the IP address
where the Craigslist ad
was originally posted.
The ad and subsequent
back-and-forth messaging
had been made
from a coffee shop
in Mission Grove
on February 11th.
This was a huge lead.
We finally were able
to trace the suspect's
whereabout
outside of a crime scene.
I mean, I gotta admit,
I was really starting to think
we were chasing a ghost
or a vampire or something.
We did surveillance
on the place for about a week.
The last thing we wanted to do
was draw any attention
to ourselves.
If this guy was a regular,
for example,
and came in all the time...
I mean, we were always
hoping and praying
maybe he swings by
for a cup of coffee
or place another ad,
and just like that,
we'd have him.
No such luck.
There were three employees
working that day.
None of them
could remember the suspect.
It's a popular place,
so he may have picked it
for that reason.
No surveillance system,
no cameras anywhere at all.
But the area does have
a large homeless population.
Excuse me, sir.
You mind if I talk to you
for a sec?
That's...
You're talking about the one
near Andulka Park?
Yeah. Yeah, that's it.
I'm just sitting there, right?
And he...
He comes up to me and...
I knew what he wanted.
"I want to hire you
as day labor."
Did he say
what kind of labor?
Uh... landscaping.
Working on the house
or something.
And you get in his car?
- Yep.
- What kind of car?
Like a...
sedan or something.
Like a, like a blue Camry.
When I started
talking to this guy,
my jaw was on the floor, man.
I mean, if he was telling
the truth, this was huge.
We even had
a vehicle description.
But it gets even better.
Mr. Johnson tells us
he knows
where the suspect's house is.
Apparently, the suspect
had driven him to it.
Okay, see that?
It wants you to go left,
but you're going
to go straight.
He didn't know
the street address,
but he says
he thinks he can remember
how to get there by memory.
Apparently, he'd been driven
to a residence in Highgrove,
where the suspect says
he needs to grab
some tools before they went
to the so-called "job site."
And that's
what brought us
to 144 Artesian Avenue.
After picking up a duffel bag,
they get
on the 215 headed north.
Mr. Johnson says
the guy seems normal, friendly.
I mean, even conversational.
And that brings us
to the bracelet.
Johnson says he found
this bracelet
in a trash container
a few years ago.
Says he just likes to wear it,
thinks it's cool.
Apparently,
the suspect asks him about it,
starts grilling him.
"How long
have you been a diabetic?
Do you take insulin?" etc.
Johnson tells him
the bracelet's not his.
And then the suspect
gets very visibly angry,
pulls off the highway,
tells him to get out,
drives off, and that's that.
Johnson never sees him again.
He's incredibly lucky.
I believe if that bracelet
had been real,
if Johnson had fit
whatever criteria
our suspect was looking for,
he would most definitely
be dead right now.
After learning
all this we go to the house.
Just a normal house.
We knock.
Nobody's home.
But we can't just kick
the door in
without probable cause.
I mean,
all we've got is the word
of an unemployed drifter
with a minor criminal record
who we also paid
for the information he gave us.
It's not going
to get us a warrant.
And that's when I see it
above the door,
staring us in the face.
We kept most of the evidence
we had, which wasn't much,
pretty close to the chest
as far as the media
was concerned.
That symbol, the image,
was never released
to the public.
So, nobody could know about it
unless they were involved
in one of the crimes.
That was enough.
We called in the cavalry.
Big windows on left.
All clear!
I don't know
what I was expecting
to find in there.
Torture dungeon,
haunted house,
something from a horror movie.
But it wasn't like that at all.
It was... banal.
Mundane.
That doesn't mean
it wasn't a little weird.
But weird doesn't necessarily
make you guilty.
There was no evidence
the person that lived there
was involved in anything,
other than the symbol
over the doorway,
and that was
purely circumstantial.
Look at this.
That's just lovely, isn't it?
The property owner
was an older woman
who lived in San Diego
who said she'd been renting
the house to...
You guessed it,
someone who called themselves
Albert Shiny.
Apparently, Mr. Shiny
was willing to pay
for a year upfront in cash,
so she didn't ask
too many questions
and had only met him twice.
So, we start
dusting for fingerprints
but we can't find any,
literally.
Not one print,
which makes no sense
for the inside
of someone's house.
There should be
thousands of them.
I mean,
was this guy wearing gloves
every second of every day?
Finally,
we found some fingerprints
on a telescope that was
outside, on the deck.
We immediately
got them out to the lab
and ran through the computer.
And boom, we got a hit.
The print matched the partial
that was found in '95
on the Noah Lafone murder.
I couldn't believe it.
We might have our guy.
The fingerprints belonged
to a Leslie Sykes,
born December 20th,
1962 in Branson, Missouri.
Homer Johnson,
the homeless gentleman,
swore Sykes was the person
who had given him a ride.
The woman who rented the house
also IDed him off his photo.
Sykes had no criminal record,
no employment history,
no current address,
no phone number
or bank account and,
big surprise,
the guy hadn't paid taxes
in more than two decades.
Yeah, he really was a ghost,
but he was our ghost
and we had to find him
before he killed again.
Riverside police are asking
for the public's help
in locating this man.
Fifty-year-old Leslie Sykes
is a person of interest
in what has been dubbed
as "the Mr. Shiny murders."
The killer in that case
has now taken the lives
of eight people
in both San Bernardino
and Riverside counties,
and is still at large.
We tried to do
a total media blitz,
get this guy's picture in front
of as many people as possible.
The story got carried
all over California,
even in a few other
surrounding states,
but no one was really
paying attention.
But one person that did see
the coverage
was Leslie Sykes.
Leslie Sykes
has been transfigured.
You can't stop him
or what he has become.
Hail Azragor!
Hail Drag Aul!
You have no idea
what I am saying.
Five to go
and then you'll know.
Five to go
and then we'll know...
what?
It was a sick game to him,
but it was also
absolutely serious.
Would he really stop at five?
The next murder happened
less than a month later,
March 19th.
The victim was a 16-year-old
high school student
named Victoria Macenroe.
Sixteen.
She was alone at her parents'
home in Hiland.
They had gone out to visit
friends in Rancho Cucamonga.
Sykes jumped the gate
and entered
through a first floor window
at or around 9:21.
And we know this
because it was caught
on camera.
Okay, so this is
the Color Dreams palette
by Adorable Damage.
I am just obsessed
with this brand lately.
I actually reviewed
their Shimmer Shadow palette
in my top ten video
and they are
just killing it, okay?
What I'm going to do
is I'm going to go in
for kind of a smoky look
with this one right here.
And then, you can just go in,
like, a circular motion.
You don't have to do
a bunch of back-and-forth
windshield-wiper crap.
So, start...
"Windshield wiper,"
that sounds stupid.
Hey, I thought you were going
to text me on the way home!
I'm starving!
Mom? Mom?
Dad?
No, please! Please!
No, please! Please!
The video glitches
pretty bad there
and it's hard to tell
what's going on.
We've combed
over it frame by frame,
but it's just too messed up
to see anything clearly.
But obviously,
Sykes was performing
some kind of ritual.
Ritual murder,
strictly speaking,
is a relatively
obscure phenomenon
not just in the United States,
but worldwide.
It just doesn't happen
that often in its purest form.
To this day,
people still believe
that the Manson Family
was a satanic cult.
It's not true.
Of course, that's not to say
that ritual murder
never happens.
There were the murder-suicides
in the Solar Temple cult,
the Fall Rivers cult,
Order of the Black Sun.
The Mr. Shiny murders
definitely seem ritualistic,
but I didn't recognize
any of the iconography.
This wasn't some goetic rite
pulled from a grimoire,
there was nothing Abrahamic.
As I told the police
at that time,
whatever it was,
this guy was a true believer
and very, very dangerous.
And this is
all crazy in its own right,
but what's truly unexpected
is what happens next.
Somehow, Victoria
survives being shot
not only in the head,
but in the back twice
and the shoulder.
This is probably
because a 22-caliber weapon
was used,
and just incredible luck.
Victoria?
Oh, my God!
Emergency workers
arrive in about 15 minutes
and they're able
to stabilize Victoria
on her way to
St. Bernardine Medical Center.
I wish I could tell you
the story ended there.
After going through surgery,
she was put
in the recovery ward,
and I had multiple officers
assigned to guard her room,
just in case.
And the hospital security
was put on alert.
It should've been enough.
Sykes attacks
and subdues a nurse
just getting off his shift
in the hospital parking lot,
takes his uniform
and entry badge.
He walks straight
through the front doors,
right past security,
and goes to Macenroe's floor.
I mean, he seems to know
exactly where to go.
He goes to the nurses' station
and introduces himself
to the other staff,
says he was transferred
from Pediatrics.
They believe him.
Says he knows
all the vernacular
and hospital procedure.
Sykes quite literally cares
for three different patients
over a four-hour period.
He walks by police
and security several times
and is never noticed.
Yeah, including by Joe or me.
He was right there.
We practically
touched each other.
If I'd just
been paying attention,
if I'd just
looked into his eyes...
I'll never forgive myself
for not realizing
just how bold
he might really be.
He waits
until there's a shift change,
enters the room
for storing pharmaceuticals,
and proceeds to poison an AB
negative blood transfusion bag
with an industrial cleaner
he finds
in a custodial closet.
He knows that Macenroe
is the only with AB negative
in the wing and is the only one
who will receive that bag.
Then he leaves.
Later that night,
a nurse comes in to rotate out
Macenroe's backup bag
and unknowingly replaces it
with the poisoned one.
Victoria was dead
within minutes,
but Sykes was long gone
by then.
This was a huge blow
to everyone involved
in the case.
The one victim that survived,
we couldn't protect her.
I mean, we were right there.
We could've had him.
Yeah, that was one
of the roughest nights
in my entire life.
Could we take a break?
Yeah.
It was a rollercoaster.
Realizing
that she might be hurt,
then thinking
that she might be okay...
thinking
that she was okay, and...
Some days I feel
like she's still here.
Yeah.
We couldn't touch it.
I think about
that saying a lot,
"you really die the last time
someone says your name."
Yeah, I guess
we kept all her stuff
because we didn't want her
to die.
Even though I know she's dead.
Victoria Macenroe was
serial killer
Leslie Sykes' ninth
and most recent victim
in the Mr. Shiny murders,
a killing spree that spans
three counties
and over 18 years.
Authorities continue to urge
the public
to keep a watchful
lookout for Sykes,
who remains at large
and is considered armed
and extremely dangerous.
Residents of the Hiland
neighborhood
where Macenroe was murdered
have expressed
their frustration at police
for their inability
to capture,
or even come close
to capturing,
the elusive killer.
It's unacceptable.
It's insane.
Somebody in the San Bernardino
Police Department
should be held accountable
for letting it get out of hand
like this.
It's messed up how they haven't
caught the guy yet.
This used to be
a pretty great place to live,
but, honestly,
I'm really scared.
And that girl,
she just lives, like,
a couple blocks from here!
So, I mean, who's next, right?
We were really
feeling the pressure
by this point.
Macenroe's murder seemed to be
the straw that broke
the camel's back
in terms of public outrage.
But I felt for all of them.
Every single victim
deserved justice.
And for everything
we'd done up until this point,
until you catch your guy,
you haven't done shit.
We'd already been offering
a cash reward
for any lead that led
to the arrest of Leslie Sykes,
but I convinced the D.A.'s
Office to substantially up it.
It ended up being
one of the highest
in San Bernardino's history.
$80,000 for just one person.
At the same time,
we were digging
into Sykes' past,
trying to figure out
everything we could,
which wasn't easy.
All his known relatives
were dead.
He had been
briefly married in '88
to a woman named
Suzanne Hemler,
but that was over by '91.
Tried to contact her,
but she committed suicide
in 2008.
We started reaching out
to people
Sykes went to high school with,
but nobody seems
to remember him.
Finally, we find
someone who will talk to us.
A guy named Jared Kelly.
How so?
Just, like, agitated,
distracted.
A cave?
Like what?
It's, like, ingrained.
Which is metal as fuck.
Police.
Sykes attempts
to break into the residence
of Miles and Kelly Harris,
an older couple
living in Rancho West.
He scaled the fence
into their backyard,
but is almost
immediately attacked
by the Harrises'
48-pound pit bull, Caesar.
Mr. Harris
overhears the commotion,
looks into his backyard
and sees
the struggle happening.
I mean, this was a big animal,
and it's able to physically
knock Sykes off his feet.
We know he was hurt pretty bad
because we find blood
on the ground
in multiple places.
Sadly, the dog's
only able to keep this up
for so long before Sykes
uses a bladed weapon
and stabs it repeatedly,
then he jumps the fence again.
This time,
I was not going to let
the same thing
happen to the Harrises
that happened
to Victoria Macenroe.
They were immediately
put into protective custody.
Not that it mattered,
because Sykes must have had
a backup plan for that night.
31-year-old Leo Deetz
was working the night shift
at a 24-hour doughnut shop
in La Sierra
when he was attacked.
Yeah, I don't
like fantasy shit,
but this one's
actually pretty dope.
It's, like,
violence and sex and stuff.
It's based on books,
so it seems pretty legit.
Yeah. Yeah, you too, man.
Yeah. Peace!
Leo Deetz
is found the next morning
with his heart
removed from his body.
A security guard sees Sykes
exit the back of the shop
and tries to confront him,
but Sykes flees.
Honestly,
I was just doing my job.
I was wrapping up my rounds
for the evening
here in this complex.
I was going to take
some doughnuts home
to me and the girlfriend.
I saw a man leaving the shop
in a very, very weird mask.
The guard
still manages to grab
his license plate number
and report it to the police.
I'm just bummed
I didn't get the reward money.
In the surveillance video
from the doughnut shop,
you could tell Sykes
was in pain from the dog bite.
He's unfocused and unprepared.
Then he's forced
to ditch his car
after it's reported
by the guard,
which we find abandoned
near the 91
and 215 interchange.
The more desperate
Sykes became,
the more likely
he was to make a mistake.
That was the hope.
We'd
kind of hit a brick wall
digging into Sykes' past.
He just vanished
into thin air after '91.
That's when we realized
it's because he wasn't
in the country.
Turns out Sykes had used
his late ex-wife's credit card
to purchase a one-way ticket
to, of all places, Jerusalem.
I know, what the F, right?
I mean, we were just baffled.
And we also realized
this was beyond the scope
of our resources,
so we reached out
to the FBI
and asked for their help.
They, in turn, got in contact
with Interpol
and a whole side
investigation got underway,
trying to find out what Sykes
was doing over there.
What was found out was...
Let's just say
it didn't clear anything up.
Sykes flies
to Jerusalem in '96,
not long after the murder
of Noah Lafone,
and then, evidently,
he passes into Syria.
Now, the information here
is sketchy at best,
but apparently, Sykes
was living in northern Iraq
for two years,
but then flees
after Operation Desert Fox
in '98.
As far as we know,
Sykes didn't speak Arabic,
but apparently, he learned.
Sykes then crosses
the border into Turkey,
and then into Italy in 2001.
While there, he attends
a museum exhibit
on Etruscan pottery
in the city of Mantua
and gets into some sort
of altercation and is arrested.
I don't know
what Sykes is doing
looking at Etruscan pottery,
but he doesn't stay
in Italy long
before moving
on to Germany in 2003.
And that's where we learn
of someone who claims
to have had direct contact
with him there.
I met Mr. Sykes
when I was living in Xanten.
He contacted me
through the internet
about several books
that I was selling.
Specifically,
he was looking to buy
my copy of a printed work
from the late Middle Ages,
a manuscript known
as...
It's a very valuable book,
only half a dozen copies
or something still exist.
It's a book of spells,
basically.
Witchcraft.
Well, he wanted to buy it
off me,
but I wasn't selling.
I don't know
if he was for real or not,
but he offered
some wild prizes.
100, 150,000 euro.
The guy kind of creeped me out,
to be honest.
So, when my shop was vandalized
a couple days later
and the book was gone,
I immediately knew who did it.
To know that I came
that close in contact
with a serial killer...
The thing that gets me
more than anything else
though is what the hell
happened to that book.
We had hoped,
maybe, that Sykes
would be deterred
by how bungled
the last two attacks had been.
We didn't think he would stop,
but maybe just slow down
long enough
for us to find him.
If anything, it must have
reinvigorated his cause.
Get in the fucking car, Coby!
- This is not our issue.
- Wait!
We can't just leave him!
Are you fucking kidding me?
This is not our problem!
I'm leaving.
Emily! Wait!
Holy shit.
This is fucking crazy.
The victim
was Saroj Mallick,
the security guard
that saw Sykes
behind the doughnut shop
and reported his plate
to police.
After leaving work
on April 2nd,
he was supposed to meet
his girlfriend at a bar
at 8:30 but never shows.
He doesn't show up
for work the next day either,
and his cell phone is off.
Although his coworkers
are a little concerned,
nothing's reported to police.
I guess he had a habit
of just blowing out
to Vegas for the weekend
without telling anybody.
But he didn't go to Vegas.
The following day
he's found hung
from a public playground
swing set.
"Displayed" is the word.
It was a form of torture
the ancient Vikings
used to use called
"blood eagle."
The flesh of the back
is cut open,
ribs are bent back,
then both lungs are pulled out.
The mutilation resembles...
Yeah, you guessed it, wings.
Blood eagle.
It was clearly done
for dramatic effect.
When the Fire Department
is getting his body down,
they find a CD.
The fuck?
Hello?
Hello?
Anybody, help!
Hello!
Help!
Hello!
Somebody help me!
Yo, yo, yo, yo! Okay, okay!
Whoa, whoa, whoa!
Sir, please no, no, no!
Oh! Oh, shit!
No! No! Fuck!
No! Shit! Somebody!
Stop it! Somebody!
Okay, I'll do anything!
I'll do anything!
Please stop!
Please stop! Please stop!
Okay.
"I have been selected
because of my direct actions.
I should not have interfered
with the Great One's plan.
And for my blasphemies,
I will be put into transit."
Hello?
Hello?
Help!
He wanted us to know
he was punishing this guy
for trying to stop him.
He was saying,
"Stay out of his way or else."
He was saying,
"This is your fault, not mine."
Oh, but I do.
No, I'll carry his death,
and all of their deaths,
on my conscience until the day
I leave this planet.
After the Mallick murder,
a lot less tips came in.
People were afraid.
I guess they had
every right to be.
We picked apart Sykes' house
with a fine-toothed comb
and found almost nothing
useful at all.
We excavated parts
of the backyard.
There was nothing but dirt.
We knew Sykes used
Presto brand toothpaste,
the one DVD he owned
was season two
of Meet the Furballs,
and his favorite drink
was 2% milk.
Yikes.
He ate there,
he slept there,
but it didn't seem
like he lived there.
It was like a front.
It was like a show being put
on to pretend
the person that lived
there was vaguely normal.
After a long day
of chasing some leads
that went nowhere,
I went to the backyard
of Sykes' house
to get some fresh air.
I think I was hoping I'd have
some transcendent moment
a lot of profilers talk about,
you know,
when you enter
the headspace of the killer
and you start
to think like them.
That never happened.
None of it
made any sense to me.
So, it was
like 2:00 in the morning
and I'm just...
you know, zoning out,
looking up at the stars.
And then
I remember that telescope
that we pulled
Sykes' prints from.
What stars was Leslie Sykes
looking at?
The area in the sky
that Leslie Sykes
had his telescope pointed at
was interesting
for two reasons.
First, he was looking
at Ophiuchus.
Now, most people hadn't
even heard of Ophiuchus.
It's one of the 13 major
constellations
along the ecliptic,
smack in between Scorpius
and Sagittarius .
It's also called the...
The so-called 13th zodiac sign,
although that's getting
into astrology
and not hard science.
My wife would kill me
for explaining it that way.
The ancient Greeks
were the one that named
all the constellations
as we know them today.
Pisces is a fish,
Taurus is a bull, etc.
Ophiuchus is
the serpent bearer,
a man battling a giant snake.
The reason I mention Ophiuchus
is because a rare
celestial event
was taking place
in its constellational
borders that exact month.
A planetary alignment
where Mercury,
Jupiter, and Saturn
come in earshot of each other
in a way that happens
once every 800 years or so.
This is a real thing,
you can look it up.
May 13th, 2011.
You could view it
with a naked eye.
But only for a few hours,
which is why it's so special.
The symbol.
A leech bite.
Mercury, Jupiter, Saturn.
The rare planetary alignment
that was only a few weeks away.
So, is this all
one big coincidence?
One thing they really drill
into your brain
at the Academy is
that the human mind
is very adept
at finding patterns
in things,
even if they aren't there.
They tell you
to watch out for it,
to not get carried away,
to remember Occam's razor.
The simplest explanation
is usually the correct one.
But sometimes,
it's actually the strangest.
We had brough in
these big halogen lights
to Sykes' house
because the place
was so dark at night.
But as soon as we turned it on,
it blew a fuse.
So, one of the deputies is
trying to reset the breaker
and realized the subpanel
in the closet wasn't working.
As he's messing with it,
the whole thing
just comes out of the wall.
Like everything in that house,
it was a fake .
Behind it, there was a space
with a lockbox.
Of course, we cleared the house
and called the bomb squad,
just in case.
They used
one of those little robots
and everything.
No bomb.
But that didn't seem
like his style, anyway.
The box was just a cheapo,
we just pried it open
with a crowbar.
And inside, just two things.
Leslie Sykes' passport,
expired from 2003,
and a key
with an attached keychain.
We drove over there
straight away
and went inside the unit.
In retrospect,
it was pretty stupid of us.
I mean, the thing
could've been booby-trapped,
or he could've been waiting
in there for us.
Who knows.
But it felt like we'd run
out of time.
We just got lucky.
Everywhere my light goes,
you can go, okay?
Jackpot, winning-lotto-ticket,
royal-flush lucky.
Here's why we never
get fingerprints.
Guy wears
a full-on hazmat suit.
This is the mold, we believe,
for the mask he's been seen in.
Yeah, this guy
is big into space.
Over here.
Real big.
Oh, you gotta check this out.
This is...
early-childhood reading for...
"Celestial Witchcraft
of Early England."
This right here
we think is Dennis Zao's
tongue, alright?
Unless he's cut out
other tongues.
This here's Victoria Macenroe,
we think it is because it's...
We watched her hair
get cut off.
And that is Saroj Mallick.
He's been here recently.
Yeah.
Over here is what we think
is Sheridans' blood.
What's this shit up here?
"Hail Azragor."
And then this weird...
altar.
Is this Azragor?
Azragor? No.
How about Kaliban?
Like in Shakespeare?
The Thorn of Time
sounds familiar.
I've heard that.
Where have I heard that?
This is pre-cuneiform
so it's all very cryptic,
but here.
"The temple of the outer gate
beyond the thorn of time."
I've heard before.
That means...
Kronung.
Crowning...
Coronation.
Whereas before
we had little to no evidence
to go on,
we now had way too much.
Sykes had collected
tons of information
on each of his victims,
had them all
in a filing cabinet.
Criminal history,
medical records,
information the public
does not have access to,
so he must've been paying
off cops
or private investigators.
And every murder had been
meticulously documented.
There were photos, drawings,
hundreds of hand-written pages
by Sykes with his ramblings.
A pure window
into a man's madness.
We were pulling all-nighters
in that horrible space.
Even after
the bodies were removed,
the smell never went away.
We were going crazy.
On May 8th,
the manager of the place
comes looking for us.
Someone sent mail
to the office for us.
It was another letter.
The great lord
of the threshold
has arrived at the gate .
The great rectification,
the final extirpation.
The dawn of Kaliban.
One left for me,
then he's set free.
Around midnight on May 12th,
Sykes breaks into the home
of Glenn
and Stephanie Courtland
via a garage window
and abducts
their three-month-old baby,
Sawyer.
He could've killed that child
in his crib
right then and there,
but he was waiting.
I mean, he was deliberately
waiting for something.
But what?
But we had no idea where Sykes
was going
or what his plan was,
but it didn't seem
like a coincidence
that the triangle in the sky
was supposed to appear
that morning.
That was a Friday, by the way.
The 13th.
Coincidence, right?
I am just getting to work,
it's around 3:00 a.m.,
and... Let's see.
Okay, right here.
Right here, not 20 feet
from where I found
that woman's body,
I see this red SUV parked.
The vehicle is empty.
I just got a weird vibe.
So, I called it in.
I immediately got a reply
that the automobile
has been stolen,
and that the driver
is armed and dangerous.
Now, I...
I watched the news closely
and I was like,
"Is this Mr. Shiny?"
They found Sykes' SUV
right in the spot
of the very first murder
in '93.
He ran out of gas right there,
of all places.
What are the odds?
This three-planet alignment
was going to be visible
between 6:00 and 6:30 a.m.
I mean, that gave us
just a matter of hours
to find Sykes and baby Sawyer.
But one way or another,
this thing was going to end.
But , that...
That's a pretty
believable thing
that he died. I don't know.
- I...
- I don't know.
I believe that's the case.
Do you want
a marshmallow?
- Ready.
- Yeah.
Made the s'mores.
Oh!
I said I was going to do it.
Mm.
This is disgusting,
I'm so sorry.
We all went to UC Riverside
together,
but I was moving out of state
for my Master's degree,
so it was sort of a last hurrah
with the girls.
We didn't even know that thing
with the planets
was even happening.
I think we're
just getting old, dude.
Old asses for life.
Do you hear that?
We had units
coming in from Arrowhead,
Crestline, even Big Bear,
but they were spread out
all over the place.
If Sykes was on foot,
he could only get so far,
but we still needed
a lot of manpower.
Best we could do
in that first hour
was two cars.
Two.
That park is
almost a million acres.
When we were
on the way out there,
you know,
I was actually excited.
Why?
'Cause Sykes was
the boogeyman of Berdoo.
I mean,
even the FBI was after him.
If we were
the arresting officers...
That would be huge.
So fucking stupid.
They started going
from campsite to campsite
in a grid.
Every tent, RV,
Porta-Potty out there,
they were shining
a light into it.
Who's
in there with you?
It's just my daughter.
Nobody's
being cooperative
or wanting to talk to us,
but, I mean, who would be?
Anybody else
here with you?
No.
Imagine you're asleep
in your tent
and a cop shines a light
in your face.
Like, I'd be pissed too.
You see anything
suspicious tonight?
You see a man with a baby?
A baby?
It was a clusterfuck.
Heavy brush, too dark,
lots of places to hide.
Even now, GPS maps
in that kind of area
just aren't that reliable.
Neither are cell phones.
But luckily, some places
still had landlines.
There's a property out there
where you can rent
these individual cabins
for the night.
Sykes forces his way
inside one of these cabins
where Martin and Silvia Vallejo
are staying.
It's about 4:00 in the morning
at this point.
He's able to subdue Martin,
but Silvia gets away
and calls 911
at the cabin next door.
Did you make
the call, ma'am?
Yes, he's in there
with my husband!
Where's the cabin?
Third cabin on the right!
Please help him!
Stay here.
He has a child!
There's a baby with him!
Stay here.
The two closest units
arrived at the cabin
around 4:50 a.m.
Backup was on the way,
but ended up getting lost
and wouldn't get there
for over an hour.
These guys had no idea
what they might be
walking into.
Check out
the front door.
Clear.
Come on.
Alright, it's clear.
Stand by.
The place was
deserted, alright?
Extremely bad vibes.
Are you seeing this?
I think that's...
that's when I started
to get scared.
Then we found Mr. Vallejo.
Looks like a bedroom.
We got a suspect.
We got a suspect!
Let me see your hands!
Hands! Hands!
Give it up.
It looks like he's duct-taped.
His hands.
What the fuck?
- I got him. I got him.
- Get the mask.
Oh my God.
Get medical out here!
Sykes essentially
lobotomizes the man...
leaves the body
to be found like that.
It was just bad,
bro, I...
I don't know what else to say.
An empty glass is found
on the kitchen counter
with remnants of milk
from the fridge,
and Sawyer's dirty diapers'
thrown in the garbage.
Even then, he was still
taking care of the baby.
After this pit stop,
he leaves into the woods.
Closer ETA
on RO unit, over.
What the hell was that?
We should go
check it out.
Shouldn't we wait
for backup?
But, dude, he's got a baby.
I didn't even want to go,
you know?
But it was a baby, right?
Like, what would you do?
Imagine that's your kid.
But I should've said no.
I should've waited at the car.
If that makes me a coward,
I don't give a shit.
Oh, shit.
You heard that?
He was doing witchcraft
out there, man.
You saw the video.
What else would you call it?
Yo, what the fuck is this, man?
Fuck!
Fuck!
Fuck!
I didn't understand
at the time
what exactly that wood thing
was, but...
You know, I found out
they have a name for it.
A pyre.
That's where the...
the crying was coming from.
Sykes...
Oh, shit.
What the fuck?
I don't know what we saw
or didn't see.
It was strange.
If you looked at it
from one angle,
you could see it.
From another,
it wasn't as clear.
The videos don't do it
justice at all.
I'm just still
not convinced any of that...
what do you call it?
Karmic phenomena?
Cosmic phenomena.
I mean, sky looked weird
that morning,
no doubt about that,
but there's plenty
of weird stuff
that happens in the sky.
Aurora borealis?
Okay, but you can't tell me
that's not some weird looking
space stuff too, right?
I don't remember much.
It gets hazy.
So, that...
that thing in the sky?
It looked like red eyes.
Jeez, dude.
Holy shit.
What the fuck?
What the fuck is that?
I don't know, dude.
Lizzie?
Lizzie?
Lizzie!
Liz!
Dude, Lizzie!
Lizzie! Lizzie! Lizzie!
Lizzie! Kate! Kate, wake up!
I need you to call 911!
Kate, please!
And just like that,
it was over.
We got him.
Don't turn away, just...
I'll be right...
How's the baby?
He's okay.
That was
too goddamn close.
- He's gone!
- What?
We need
some help over here!
You've got to be
fucking kidding me!
Leslie Sykes' body was found
about 100 yards
from the cabin, in a creek...
covered in leeches.
He'd only been in the water
for a matter of minutes.
It's like they were
drawn to him.
They made any kind of visual
identification impossible,
but we still confirmed it
with fingerprint and DNA.
It looks like Sykes
had been living out there
for at least a couple weeks.
Sleeping
in a makeshift shelter,
stealing food
from other people's campsites.
His final time on this earth
was spent hungry,
cold, and alone.
No phantoms,
no ghosts.
A flesh-and-blood human.
Piece of shit human,
but human nonetheless.
So, I was...
I was getting up
for work that morning
and I was checking my Facebook,
and I had, like,
all of these messages,
and I was like, what?
You know, what's going on here?
And then I realized
they got him.
Like, they really
fucking got him.
The Inland Empire
can breathe a sigh of relief
with the news just coming in
that the hunt
for serial killer
Leslie Sykes,
a.k.a. Mr. Shiny,
has finally come to an end.
Police shot and killed Sykes
this morning in a standoff
in the San Bernardino
mountains,
but not before ending the life
of one Riverside Police
Department deputy.
Richie...
I don't want to talk about it.
Should've been me.
I'm here to formally
announce that Leslie Sykes,
otherwise known as Mr. Shiny,
died this morning
at approximately 6:00 a.m.
Pacific standard time
as a result of an extended
gun battle
with local authorities.
I couldn't believe it.
Like, all of this...
This, like, weight was
just lifted from my chest,
you know?
Like Shifra could finally
rest in peace, you know,
'cause that fucking asshole
was dead.
I mean, nothing's ever going
to bring my girl back, but...
at least we can all,
like, start to heal now.
I feel no joy
in Leslie Sykes' death.
I really don't.
I did in the beginning but,
as time has gone on...
I wish I could've
interviewed him.
I wish we could've gotten
more information.
In the timespan that Sykes
was actively killing,
that we know about, there were
over 100 unsolved homicides
in the two counties.
Could some of these be Sykes?
We'll never know.
Is it possible
Sykes had an accomplice,
someone that helped him,
funded him?
We'll never know.
He got off too easy,
if you ask me.
Should've drawn and quartered
that motherfucker.
Sorry, is...
Was that too much or...?
No,
that's actually perfect.
Happy I could set
the record straight.
When we first found out
that they killed him...
I guess it was bittersweet.
I was just glad
he couldn't hurt anybody else.
We tried to keep
Victoria's memory alive,
but it gets harder
as time goes on.
Friends lose interest.
I think about that saying a lot
that goes
"you really die the last time
someone says your name."
Honey,
you already said this.
I know.
It's just so true.
Ted Bundy. Gacy.
These guys will live forever.
And now so will Mr. Shiny.
Eight victims
were honored today
at a memorial held
at Pioneer Memorial Cemetery,
including those
from the original crimes
in 1995.
Almost 1,000 people
joined the service
to pay their respects
to those lives
taken too soon
by serial killer Leslie Sykes.
Lizzie! Lizzie!
Kate! Kate, wake up!
I need you to call 911!
Yep.
Great place to have
your first one, right?
Started for the first time
that night.
And I wasn't the only one
who had bad luck, either.
Gail randomly started
having vertigo
after that trip.
So, you know,
you asked me if I believe
in ghosts
and this paranormal stuff,
and I don't. But...
No, I don't believe
in that stuff,
but I still wish we never
went camping that weekend.
We moved to Portland.
I know it sounds superstitious,
but it just seemed like
that whole county was cursed.
I have no idea.
What do you want me to say?
He was part
of some apocalypse cult
trying to summon a
six-million-year-old leech god?
Thorn of Time, Kaliban?
That's not something you put
in a police report, pal.
That's not going to help
the families
try and bring closure
and heal from this mess.
What I can say
for sure is this.
Leslie Sykes was a monster.
We caught him
and we killed him.
As Lexi likes to say,
same shit, different day.
Same shit, different day.
It's postdated
two days before he died.
If he sent it, he must've had
an inkling things
might not go to plan.
Well, if it's true,
I guess we'll find out
in another 800 years.
Rejoice for I can now learn
the mysteries of the world.
The harvest season
will return.
The reaping will continue.
I'll be back.
There's still
so many things
we don't understand
about this case,
and probably never will.
We just had bits and pieces
of some kind
of strange puzzle.
And even if we could put them
all together,
I don't know if I want to see
whatever picture they make.
Yeah?
Got what you need?
I think
that's all we need...
Okay. Awesome.
Alright. Thanks, guys.
Okay,
August 23rd, 2023.
Back at Pinto again.
I'm a little further south
this time, but...
Yeah, it's a bust.
Something about this place
just doesn't...
doesn't feel right.
Talked to a guy
at a gas station,
he told me there's
a series of caves down at a...
Coxcomb,
so we're going to try
that next.
It's worth a shot.