Hey, I just wanted to let you know up front that parts of this story deal with violence and sexual violence.

Now, it may not be appropriate for all listeners.

If you've experienced sexual assault and need help, call 1-800-656-6-hope.

Take care of yourself.

And thank you for being a true weirdo.

A flashlight, a few 22 caliber bullet cases, a single footprint.

Three meager clues were all police had to work with, and people were in a panic.

More and more were carrying guns for protection.

As each day wore itself down and darkness crept closer, the fear and paranoia grew.

The phantom they knew always struck near midnight.

You didn't know who you could trust.

After all, might the phantom be one of your own?

Unthinkable as it seemed?

Though violence was no stranger to this place, and that was a fact.

A particular kind of violence had blossomed here.

The violence that happens when a crowd of neighbors

transforms into a mob. They say that many hands make for light work. Well, when many hands are

covered in the blood of another, it does seem easier somehow for folks to wash that blood away

and pretend their hands were always clean.

The people understood that. They'd lived it. But this, this violence was something new, malicious,

unpredictable, and anyone could be next.

I don't want to kill you, fellow.

...