The mountains of West Virginia are beautiful, but sometimes terrifying to me in the same way that the ocean is terrifying.

I remember the first time I went out into the Atlantic far enough for the land to be completely out of sight.

No matter which way I turned, the expanse laid out before me seemed infinite.

Ten miles from civilization might as well have been a thousand.

I remember thinking, if I were lost out here, I would never make it home. After moving to

West Virginia, I would often come up over the top of a ridge and look out over the sparsely

populated 24,000 square miles of Appalachian forest that makes up the state. From these

vantage points, the treetops appear connected, a sprawling blanket of life concealing

everything beneath it.

These mountains are among the oldest in the world, where you can stand on rock that is literally

a billion years old.

In the mornings, a dense, translucent mist often settles along the ridges and valleys,

making even the most familiar hills and hollows seem eerie and otherworldly.

In the early evening, the tree cover darkens the forest beneath it before the sun is even set.

Like the ocean, I sometimes look out over the landscape and think,

if I were lost out here, I would never make it home.

The story we're about to tell is an Appalachian murder mystery.

When we're done here, you will have heard the most complete accounting ever assembled

of West Virginia's most notorious murders.

The story has all the cliché components of modern true crime,

grisly homicides, incompetent policing,

a false confession, probably, you can decide for yourself.

...