It was roughly 10.30 p.m. on April 21st, 1977 in Dover, Massachusetts.

Bill Bartlett, a 17-year-old high school student, was driving his 1971 Volkswagen,

North on Farm Street, with two friends in the car, Andy Brody and Mike Mazaka.

It was spring break, and like most teenagers in a small town,

they weren't heading anywhere in particular.

They were just driving, passing time, looking for something to happen.

The road they were on wasn't built for speed.

It was narrow and winding,

cutting through a stretch of woods and old conservation land

that felt darker than the rest of the town once

the sun went down.

At night, there weren't many lights out there, just the occasional break in the trees and

whatever the car's headlights could reach.

Bill was focused on the road ahead, letting the high beams carry them forward through

the darkness.

As they came around the bend, the headlights swept

across a low, partially collapsed, stone wall on the left side of the road. It was the kind of

wall that had been there for generations, slowly sinking into the landscape as the years had passed.

And then the light caught something sitting on top of it. At first, Bill assumed it was

an animal, something small, maybe a small dog or a cat, caught in the beam and frozen for a moment

before running off. But as the car got closer, the shape didn't move the way it should have.

It turned its head, and that was the moment that

...