It’s Monday morning and still dark outside when I slip from bed and creep away from my sleeping wife to hide in the attic and watch, for the umpteenth time, my favorite episode of Strange Murders.
Lucas Yates, “the Hatchet Killer.” Three bloody murders, all in one summer. The year was 2014, and back then the story was a blip on my radar, news lost amidst bigger headlines: ISIS, Robin Williams’s suicide, the Ebola outbreak . . . a dreary year in the news, but I paid little attention to any of it. At twenty-two, I lived a self-absorbed life thousands of miles away in Chicago, on break from my college classes, partying, and hanging with Miranda, my then girlfriend, now wife. What did Lucas Yates and the women he murdered in Joy, Montana, have to do with me?
Nothing. Until the story became an episode on Strange Murders.
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