And then what are you going to do?

On the morning of February 20th, 1989, something terrible happened to Janice Johnson, a 35-year-old

housewife and mother of two children.

Oh, Claire, I got to go.

I'll talk to you later, OK?

The investigation into that morning's event would raise questions

that persist to this day.

Clayton and Janice Johnson lived in the tiny coastal fishing village of Shelburn, Nova

Scotia.

It's a close knit community where towns people all know one another.

For the Johnson's, Shelburn was the ideal place to raise their two young daughters, 11-year-old

Darla and 9-year-old Don.

We had two lovely girls and, you know, a practice driver, that's concern.

We were always together, like, even asking anybody around the community whenever they

seen us, we were four of us, we were always together.

Very, very rarely we were individually.

Clayton was an industrial arts teacher at the local high school.

Janice was a homemaker.

The Johnson's were a deeply religious family and very active in their church, volunteering

much of their free time to church activities.

We were always over visiting people and doing this and that.

My mom was the type of person that she didn't like to just sit around and do nothing,

...