It's 6.30 p.m. October 2, 2002. James Martin, a 55-year-old program analyst, has stopped

at shopper's food warehouse in Wheaton, Maryland. He's walking across the parking lot, when

suddenly a single bullet explodes through the air and ends his life.

The following morning, four more people are shot dead across the DC, Maryland area.

That night, Pascal Charlotte, a 72-year-old retired carpenter, is hit while walking on

Georgia Avenue. In every single case, the guns are fired from a distance and the killer

completely vanishes afterwards, nowhere to be found. As news of these mysterious shooting

spread across the community, fear turns into panic, shops closed, parents picked their

kids up early from schools, and the nation's media descends. And among the journalists

is a young reporter working for the New York Times, Jason Blair.

Jason had recently been put on the National Desk, after being away from work for a while.

He's been battling some substance abuse problems, and his ability to do the job was in doubt.

But this story was a chance for him to win over his bosses, and the pressure was on to

deliver. And I go down, and it was stressful.

See, you got to understand what it's like to be a reporter in these conditions. It's

not easy. You're constantly on edge. You feel like something could happen in any moment.

And I mean, this particular story is about people being killed at random without anyone.

And Jason, he's right there in the thick of it.

I will never forget this moment, where I was standing out in the rain, wearing this yellow

rain jacket that I borrowed from a friend, just like spinning circles out of my bloody mind.

News channels that set up shop in DC and Maryland, they were broadcasting 24-7. In Jason,

he needed a story that could cut through the noise, that would stand out in a saturated

...