It was around 11 o'clock in the morning on July 3rd, 1929. When real estate dealer Vincent Elias stood in front of the comfortable two-story family home on Detroit's east side.

The home belonged to Benny and Centina Evangelist, and in the booming economy of 1920s Detroit, Michigan,

Benny and Italian immigrant had done quite well for himself.

So well, in fact, that he'd just arranged for the purchase an additional home a farm in the country

And Vincent Elias was there to deliver the paperwork

Vincent knocked firmly but gently on the front door.

His eyes downcast. He shifted his weight as he waited. The late morning sun was already hot enough to make him sweat. It's rays burning a damning heat against his back. Odd, he thought. The house is so quiet. This was a home filled with small children, always brimming with

bustling life, and yet at such an hour it was strangely quiet. Vincent waited, listening for the sound of approaching footsteps,

but deathly quiet was all that met his ears.

He knocked again.

He gave it a couple more minutes before finally opening the door.

An appointment had been arranged with Benny after all,

so his appearance in the home wouldn't be a surprise.

He called out from the entrance to announce his presence,

but there was still no response.

Feeling an inexplicable dread, he cautiously made his way to a small room that served as Benny's office.

Unable to shake the apprehension that was building, he slowly opened the door.

And there he found him.

Dressed in a well-made suit, with his arms folded tight, Benny was sitting at his desk.

The true nature of the sight before him took a moment to register,

but once it did, horror filled his body and grasped his throat, paralyzing

his ability to speak.

...