Have you ever heard of the ship of Theseus?

It's an old Greek thought experiment that goes like this.

Picture a wooden ship that sails a seas for decades.

Eventually, a plank rots and gets replaced. Then another. Then the mass.

Over time, every piece of the original ship gets swapped out until nothing original remains.

So, the question is, is it still the same ship? It's a question about identity,

about whether we're defined by what we're made of or by what we choose to become. Some people

spend their lives trying to escape who they are, building new identities until they forget

what's underneath. But the better you get at wearing disguises, the harder it becomes to take them

off. And at some point, you have to ask yourself, if you've replaced every piece of who you were, are you still you?

Or have you become something else entirely?

I'm Harvey Guienne, and this is Killer Stories.

Thank you. And this is Killer Stories. It's 1976 in Norfolk, Virginia, and Stephen Russell is exactly the person he's supposed to be.

He's got the conservative haircut, the starch collar, and the job at his family's produce business.

He volunteers as a deputy sheriff on weekends,

helping with traffic stops and community events. On Sundays, he plays the organ at church. And when he

marries Debbie Davis, the police chief secretary's daughter, it feels like the final piece

clicking into place.

Three years later, they have a daughter named Stephanie.

From the outside, Stephen's life looks like a Norman Rockwell painting.

But he spent his whole life trying to fit into frames that don't quite match his shape.

He was adopted as an infant and raised by Georgia and David Russell,

...