I have been a private investigator for most of my life.

I feel it important to tell you, at the earliest juncture what I do, why I do it, and the unspoken

rules of engagement when revealing information to the masses at large.

I've seen far too many inscrutable types just pulling stories out of their ass for a

quick buck, or completely disrespecting the names and memories of those they were paid

to investigate.

I won't be doing any of that, not when what is going on concerns all of us.

My name is Wilson.

I'm a new HPI that takes most of my appointments online, and with very little face-to-face contact.

Not just because of the current social climate, but because I like to be on the go when I'm

working.

I live close to the Rainbow Springs State Park in central Florida.

It's a great place to visit for your mental health and it keeps me fit, so you can imagine

my surprise when a job comes up directly linked to that park itself.

If you're unfamiliar with the missing 4-1-1, it's a book series by David Palitis, Chronicling,

the sheer volume of missing persons' cases in national parks across the United States.

People who vanish in short time frames without a trace, some found inexplicably far from

where they started without any logical explanation for how they got there, and bodies left in

conditions that make your skin crawl.

Florida doesn't even crack the top 10 for total missing persons, at least not officially.

On the back channels, however, there's a lot more to go by.

Historically, young people have wandered into the park when drunk, high, or just downright

...