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Thank you. The Minds of Madness podcast. Listener discretion is advised. There's a common phrase that turns up again and again in crime stories. The dog that didn't bark.

We use it when something should have happened, but didn't.

The phrase was first coined in 1892 by none other than Sherlock Holmes.

In The Adventure of the Silver Blaze, Holmes solves a mystery, not by noticing what happened,

but by noticing what didn't.

When a guard dog remained silent during a crime that should have alarmed it,

Holmes deduces that the dog must have been familiar with the intruder.

To mix metaphors, the dog that didn't bark was the smoking gun. But our story today doesn't begin with the dog that didn't bark.

Instead, it begins with the ones that did. It was the 7th of August, 2003. Yoko Willett woke up at 3 a.m. to the sound of her four

dogs barking in the backyard of her Henderson, Nevada home, a quiet suburb just southeast of Las Vegas.

This was odd. The dogs were never outside at this hour because her her 46-year-old son Jonathan always kept them inside overnight.

Nevertheless, Yoko fell back asleep without investigating any further.

Five hours later, she went downstairs around 8 a.m., And then she heard it again. The dogs were still

...