There are verities in this great land.

The simple joys of an Easter egg hunt.

The family-centered traditions on the fine big farm in the heart of the Western Plains.

The all but certain confidence that some places are safe from chaos and violence.

Never in a million years would you think that you'd see your parents' house taped off, the form taped off by that yellow tape?

It was a very brutal crime scene. One of the worst I've ever seen.

Careful. What myths you choose to rely on.

Like truth, for example, and the weakness that makes us think we alone have found it.

Leisure, gas, lethal injection.

That's what kind of case this is.

As we stumble in the dark, until we hear what we need to hear.

Put the gun to her face and blew it away.

An inside job, apparently, a family affair, as murder often is.

You're just sitting there trying to take it all in, trying to figure out why does this happen.

But sometimes, it takes a second set of eyes to see a clue missed until that moment that took a case of double murder on a long, strange trip.

I said that's like looking for a needle in a haystack.

Three tiny letters. The ultimate key. To a mystery.

That pretty much sends a chill down your spine.

Sometimes, the least likely of all things can be real.

I am not kidding.

And if no one believes me, then I really want to go back to my south.

Truth can be hidden in strange places.

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