It's late May of 1996, a time before phones had maps, before we were always reachable. If you wanted to go somewhere far, you unfolded a map, watched the mileage tick by, and trusted your sense of direction.

Back then, gas was about $1.30 a gallon.

Alanis Morseh was on every station, and the news drifted by like static.

Background noise to an easy drive through the mountains.

Shenandoah National Park is alive with color this time of year.

On Skyline Drive, families stop for views that seem endless.

Cameras click, tires crunch on gravel, and no one imagines that anything terrible could happen here.

The park feels like a sanctuary.

It's a little slice of America, perfectly untouched by violence.

On any given day, hikers pass in steady rhythm,

moving from ridge to ridge, each chasing their own quiet.

Just a short hike below those ridges,

Julie and Lolly had pitched their tent beside a mountain stream.

For them, it was freedom.

A few days of peace, away from expectations,

and away from being seen.

But in that stillness, something else was moving through the woods, quiet,

unseen. And when Taj appeared running alone along a fire road off of Skyline Drive,

the rangers who were searching for Julie and Lolly knew Shenandoah's quiet had been broken.

This peaceful stretch of the Appalachian Trail wasn't a refuge anymore.

It was a crime scene.

This is sequestered season three.

...