Detective Derek Moise walked through the back door of the hunter's home at a quarter to nine

on the evening of March 13, 2008, search warrant in hand, and began to document what had happened

inside this house.

He found Shirley Sherman first, lying prone in the hallway, face down,

a stainless steel favorware knife handle protruding from the right side of her neck.

The blade was buried to the hilt, blood pooling beneath her head on the hardwood.

On the south wall, directly across from where she lay,

circular discolourations of suspected blood spatter.

Shirley Sherman did not go quietly.

He moved to the kitchen.

On the counter, the knife block, six steak knives still in

their slots, three missing, and a utility knife, also missing. Moise then found a fourth knife,

13 inches long, sitting on top of a stack of magazines on the formal dining table. No blood on the blade,

but suspected blood on the March 2008 issue of Gourmet magazine beneath it. The killer had pulled

at least four knives from the family's own kitchen, used two, left one between the boy's arm and his torso, and placed one

on a dining table, on top of a magazine, like he'd set it down and forgotten about it.

In the basement, the Xbox was still on. The screen read, notice, player kicked.

The game was frozen in midplay, a can of Dr. Pepper sat nearby, a bag of sun chips.

Thomas Hunter had been gaming when the doorbell rang.

He'd been in his world, headset on, talking to friends, when a stranger walked into his house and started pulling knives out of the kitchen block and somewhere between the basement stairs and the formal dining

room an 11-year-old boy who loved Green Day and call of Duty and had just asked a girl named Abby to be his girlfriend, crossed paths with a killer who was waiting for him.

Yeah. Welcome to Welcome to Defense Diaries.

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