My name is William Royden.

In October of 2005, I was checking the local paper for job listings, looking to make

a few extra dollars with my video camera between wedding gigs, when I came across an

ad from a man looking for a videographer for a day. He was offering $500 to anyone

with a high quality camera who was willing to sign a confidentiality agreement about

the job. I sent an email explaining why I was suitable for this task, and two days later

I got a response. I was to meet this man, who said his name was Forch Cording in the town

of Robin's Song, Virginia, where I was born and lived until I was 12 years old. I returned

there for my home in Annapolis two or three times a year to visit my grandfather. I would

be paid in cash, and I would be asked to turn over the tape side made at the end of the

day, never speaking of them again. Another email assured me that there was nothing illegal

or distasteful about the job, and I was intrigued. Before the day I met Cording, he asked

me to call him so he could explain what we would be shooting. I dialed the number with

a Pennsylvania area code, and he told me very little other than that we would be on our

feet all day long. The footage he needed to acquire was for a personal research project

about the area. He told me I might think of it very differently after the 9th of October,

and he did not want me to do the job if what I saw and heard there could irreversibly

damage relations with anyone there or my childhood memories of being raised in Robin's

Song. I didn't understand what he meant, but I said I didn't think it would be a problem.

When I got off the phone, I looked up the name Forge Cording Online to make sure I wouldn't

discover any information which would keep me away from the job. I could find out very

little about my employer other than that he had apparently been a professor in the ancient

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