You are listening to the evidence locker. Our cases have been researched using open source and archive materials.

It deals with true crimes and real people.

Some parts are graphic in nature and listener discretion is advised.

Each episode is produced with the utmost respect to the victims, their families, and loved ones.

The three men dwell on Flan and Isle to keep the lamp a light, as we steered under the tree we caught, no glimmer through the night.

A passing ship at dawn had brought the news and quickly we set sail to find out what

strange thing might hail the keepers of the dead sea light.

The winter day broke blue and bright, with glancing sun and glancing spray.

As are the swell our boat made way, as gallant as a golen flight.

As on the threshold for a spell, we paused, we seemed to breathe the smell of lime washing of tar, familiar as our daily breath, as low towards some strange scent of death, and so yet wondering, side by side.

We only saw a table spread for dinner, meat, and cheese and bread, but all in touch to no one there,

as though when they sat down to eat, ere they could even taste, alarm had come and they in haste,

had risen and left the bread and meat.

For at the table had a chair, they tumbled on the floor. We listened, but we only heard,

the feeble chipping of a bird that starved upon its perch

and listening still without a word,

we set about our hopeless search.

We hunted high, we set about her hopeless search.

We hunted high, we hunted low, and soon we insect the empty house.

The nor of the island to inflow, rearranged, to listen and to look, and every cranny cleft or nook. But though we

searched from shore to shore we found no sign in any place. We seemed to stand for

an endless while, though still no word was said.

...