In the summer of 2000, five recorded murders were committed in the town of Ash Tree, California. The first murder occurred on May 8th and the last occurred on June 15th, coinciding with the arson of the abandoned Fretwell Movie Theater. Due to the unusual condition of the victim’s bodies, the killer has been nicknamed the “Ash Tree Butcher”. Despite the shocking nature of the crimes, it received little national media coverage due to the ongoing election cycle. No arrests have ever been made relating to the murders, and the killer’s identity has so far remained a mystery. The following documents have been compiled in an effort to shed some light on these crimes, and to determine the true nature of the killer.
Newspaper clipping from the Ash Tree Journal, May 9th, 2000
Local Biologist Murdered In Home
Professor Gerald Jacobs, biologist and lecturer at the Ash Tree Community College, was found dead in his home on May 8th. Witnesses claim that they heard screaming at around 1 AM which quickly ceased. However, it wasn’t until the sound of glass breaking at 2:26 AM that the police were called. Jacobs was dead by the time officers arrived on scene.
Professor Jacobs’s neighbor Nicole Min said “I’d heard the scream first, but didn’t really think anything of it. Once I heard the window smash, I went outside to take a look and see what was going on. I didn’t get out in time to see much, just a flash of movement headed down the road. I feel so guilty, I wish I’d called 911 sooner. I just assumed he had gotten angry or something, I had no idea he was in danger.”
According to police, Jacobs’s body has had most internal organs removed and all blood drained, evidently through a hole cut in the abdomen. No fingerprints have been found on the scene. No signs of a break in were found, though a window was broken by the murderer in order to escape.
Detective Murray Brown of the Ash Tree Police Department said “We think this murder may be occult motivated. The almost complete removal of bodily fluids and organs suggests this was done for ritualistic purposes. Unless new evidence is found to contradict this hypothesis, we will continue to pursue this avenue of investigation.”
Transcript of a 911 call by Joshua Rodriguez, May 14th, 2000
OPERATOR: 911, what’s your emergency?
RODRIGUEZ: Yeah, hi, um, I think there is a someone trying to break into my house. I didn’t get a close look but I saw movement outside, and I heard some pounding at my door.
OPERATOR: Alright sir, please remain calm. What is your address?
RODRIGUEZ: I’m at 1645 Wells court in Ash Tree, please get here as soon as you can.
OPERATOR: An officer is on the way sir, please remain calm. Have you checked that all the doors and windows to your house are closed?
RODRIGUEZ: Um, I think so. Give me a second, I’m going to go double check.
[There are a few seconds of silence as Joshua moves through his house, checking doors and windows.]
RODRIGUEZ: Okay, I think every door and window is lo-
OPERATOR: Sir? Are you okay?
RODRIGUEZ: He’s looking at me through the window.
OPERATOR: Can you describe the man you’re seeing sir?
RODRIGUEZ: I can’t tell, he’s too far away to see clearly without my glasses, I just see his eyes, they’re reflecting in the light. There’s something wrong though, damn it, they’re way too bright, like a deer’s eyes or something.
OPERATOR: Alright sir, can you back away slowly and get to a room without windows?
RODRIGUEZ: He’s staring right at me. I don’t- why the hell is he just staring at me? Oh my god.
OPERATOR: Sir? Sir what is happening?
RODRIGUEZ: H-he’s gone. He’s just gone, one second I could see those eyes and then they were gone.
OPERATOR: Okay, sir, I need you to get into a secure location, somewhere without win-
[There is a loud sound of glass breaking, followed by a scream and tearing sounds.]
OPERATOR: Sir? Sir?
[After about 30 seconds without response, there is a dragging sound and the line goes dead.]
Statement given to the police by Carol Winters, May 18th, 2000
I was walking home from work, its only a couple blocks away from my apartment. I noticed a homeless man sitting in an alleyway on the other side of the street, holding up a cardboard sign. It was around 9 o clock at this point, so I couldn’t really make out what the sign had written on it. I received a fairly large tip that shift, so I was feeling generous.
I started walking towards the man, reaching into my purse to get out a 20 dollar bill. He stood up, smiling gratefully as I approached. I stopped once I saw the eyes behind him.
They were reflecting brightly in the streetlight, kind of like a cat’s or a deer’s eyes. I didn’t know people’s eyes could look like that. They must have been glasses, I couldn’t see any pupils or anything, just a silvery reflection of the streetlight. The eyes weren’t very high off the ground, maybe 4 feet or so at most, so he must have been crouching down.
The homeless guy’s smile fell away, I think he could see the fear on my face. He started to slowly turn around. The eyes didn’t move, just kept staring blankly. Eventually the man turned around entirely, and was looking straight at the eyes. He started backing away slowly, and pulled out a lighter, I guess to provide some light so he could get a better look at whoever was there.
His body was blocking my view, so I didn’t get a good look at the guy in the glasses, but the second that lighter flicked on, the homeless guy screamed louder than I’ve ever heard in my entire life. In a flash, the homeless guy was gone. The lighter clattered on to the concrete and the sound of screaming faded into the distance before swiftly getting cut off.
I ran home immediately and called 911, and here we are.
Notes from the journal of Detective Murray Brown, May 23rd, 2000
There has been no pattern as far as I can tell between the killer’s victims. So far he has killed a tenured professor, an electrician, and a homeless man, all in the space of under a month. It is possible that the killer may have had some form of prior interaction with each victim, eventually becoming obsessed and consumed with a macabre urge to kill, to ritualistically remove the organs and blood of his victims. We cannot rule out that the killer may also be a cannibal.
Something odd to me is that while the body of Professor Jacobs was found in his own home, both of the other victims’ bodies were located much further away. Rodriguez’s body was found in the backyard of a home nearly half a mile away, and the homeless man’s body turned up in a sewer.
Given the precision with which he removes the organs and blood, he may have prior experience working as a butcher. I cannot ignore the similarities between the killer’s methods and the mummification techniques of the ancient Egyptians. Perhaps the killer has some sort of religious mania relating to ancient Egyptian religion? I’ll have to consult a professional to be sure, but I’m not quite sure. There’s no evidence of any embalming, and the brains haven’t been removed.
The holes cut in the torsos of the killer’s victims do not seem to match any known tools or weapons, simultaneously too precise for a serrated blade but too jagged for a scalpel or butcher’s knife. It is possible that the killer has devised his own tools especially for this purpose.
Statement given to the police by Katelyn Forester, May 25th, 2000
My boyfriend and I were driving back home from camping, down at the Owl Creek national park. In order to get back home, we needed to pass through some woods. It was pretty late, about 12 AM, when suddenly Elliot’s car broke down. The headlights were still working, so it wasn’t entirely dark, but outside of the range of the car’s lights it was pitch black.
Elliot hopped out of the car and started working under the hood, when I got this really uneasy feeling. All the animal sounds stopped at once, like a switch had been turned off. After a few minutes, I heard some rustling. Elliot finished tinkering with the engine, and shut the hood.
With my vision no longer obstructed, I saw the eyes reflecting in the headlights behind him. They didn’t look like any animal eyes I’d ever seen, these were just silver dots of light without pupils or iris or anything. I couldn’t help it, I screamed and closed my eyes. I heard this awful clicking noise and the sound of rapid thumping on the dirt road, followed by the sound of Elliot screaming. I heard the cries trail off into the distance before stopping abruptly.
Once I was able to move again, I ran out of the car, going in the general direction that I thought I heard the screams go. I was calling out Elliot’s name so loud my voice started to get hoarse. I got all sorts of scratches and cuts from tree branches and spiny bushes, and eventually I thought I had gone the wrong way. Then I saw those eyes again, reflecting in the flashlight. They were only about 30 feet away.
I felt this almost instinctive fear wash over me, like I was seeing something that shouldn’t exist. It felt primal, deep down in my gut. I couldn’t move an inch, I knew that if I did I’d be dead. Those eyes stared at me for what felt like hours, then just as suddenly they were gone, and I could hear their owner running off into the distance. I kept standing still until daybreak, then I used my cellphone I’d left in the glove compartment to call the police.
Newspaper clipping from the Ash Tree Journal, May 31st, 2000
Ash Tree Butcher Strikes Again?
Teenager Elliot Hirsch, reported missing on May 25th, has been found dead in the woods on the outskirts of Ash Tree. Like the previous 3 victims, Hirsch’s organs and blood were removed from his body through a hole in the abdomen. In addition to Hirsch, the corpses of 4 deer and a mountain lion were found within the area, all in similar condition.
“Its not uncommon for serial killers to start with animals”, says Detective Murray Brown, “but a mountain lion? That’s new. I’ve never seen anything like this in two decades of policing.”
Notes from the journal of Detective Murray Brown, June 2nd, 2000
I’ll be honest, I don’t know what to think anymore. The attacks seem so random, the only things the victims have in common is that they have nothing in common. The animal killings bother me also. Sure I told the press that he killed animals to start with, but the boys at the lab told me these killings must have occurred after the murder of Professor Jacobs. I have no idea how the bastard subdued a mountain lion, especially since there is no sign of a bullet wound or anything like that, just that same damn hole and the same missing entrails and blood.
Maybe he just killed them because he wasn’t able to get to a human victim, but I don’t buy that. There’s just something off, something I’m missing. It also bothers me that we haven’t found any of the missing organs or blood. Sure, maybe he’s hiding the organs somewhere in some sort of lair, or maybe the sick freak eats them, but it just doesn’t seem to make sense. I’m going to look through some of the evidence from the Jacobs crime scene, I’ve got a feeling the answers are there.
Excerpts from the journal of Professor Gerald Jacobs
Hypothesis: r. rabida specimens injected with the synthetic gene ARF-23 will show improved respiratory ability, resulting in increased stamina and metabolism.
Procedure: 3 r. rabida specimens will be injected with ARF-23, while another 3 r. rabida specimens will not receive any treatment. Subjects will be observed for any difference in behavior.
Day 1: The test group has been injected with ARF-23, while the control group has not. No immediate change in behavior noted after approximately 2 hours of observation.
Day 5: The test group so far shows significantly more activity than the control group, including increased hunting behavior. Possible sign of increased metabolism due to hunger.
Day 7: The test group have all undergone molts, while the control group has not. Possible coincidence, but unusual as all r. rapida specimens were thought to be fully grown.
Day 12. Test group has molted again. Subjects are noticeably larger than is typical for r. rabida. I have decided to decrease interval between feedings, as their increased size and metabolism necessitates more frequent meals.
Day 18. One member of the control group has died, most likely due to old age as it was male. Subjects in the test group have continued to grow, with an increased legspan of approximately 4 inches.
Day 32. Members of test group are now closer in size to members of the theraphosidae family than lycosidae. I believe that the increased respiratory efficiency is allowing the subjects to grow far beyond the normal bounds of their species. Estimated legspan is approximately 9 inches. No change in control group.
Day 39. Growth increase seems to be accelerating rapidly. Test group members now approximately 14 inches in legspan, surpassing the maximum recorded legspan of the species t. blondi.
Day 42. Earthquake caused damage to laboratory, one member of the test group was killed due to a falling object, other two escaped elsewhere into the house.
Day 43. Both remaining test subjects recovered, found in a cupboard. One is dead, state of the corpse suggests cannibalism. Deceased specimen is male. Surviving subject appears to be female, and has a legspan of approximately 16 inches.
Day 78. All members of control group deceased due to old age. Sole surviving test subject is approximately 37 inches in legspan.
Day 100. No longer able to accurately measure legspan of test subject due to large size and aggression. Would estimate approximately 48 inches.
Day 125. Subject shows no signs of slowing down growth and appears agitated due to insufficiently large enclosure (a dog kennel). Unable to move subject to a new enclosure owing to extreme aggression and size. Unable to terminate subject due to extreme aggression and size. May God forgive me. I think its pregnant.
Newspaper clipping from the Ash Tree Journal, June 4th, 2000
Detective Quits Over “Ash Tree Butcher” Case!
Detective Murray Brown has announced he is retiring, effective immediately. Murray has worked for the Ash Tree Police Department for the past 23 years, but has recently faced mounting pressure from the public to catch the serial killer known as the “Ash Tree Butcher”. The Ash Tree Police Department released a bulletin on June 3rd, stating that the detective will be stepping down from the position due to personal reasons.
Reports of detective Murray’s alleged mental breakdown and subsequent institutionalization remain unconfirmed.
Diary entry of Ashley Ellis, June 19th, 2010
Its the ten year anniversary of the fire today. My therapist says I should write down what happened, try to process it. The night of the fire. The last time I saw George alive. I haven’t told the shrink what actually happened of course, can’t do that without getting myself institutionalized. But I can tell my diary.
I’d lost my minimum wage job flipping burgers a couple months beforehand, and I wasn’t really on good terms with my family back then. Couldn’t afford the rent to my apartment, so my boyfriend and I were forced out on to the street. We managed to scrounge up enough cash for food and supplies doing odd jobs and panhandling, but it was barely enough. Of course, any extra money we grabbed didn’t last long, lets just say I didn’t have the healthiest coping mechanisms for dealing with poverty.
It took us a little while to notice the disappearances. When you’re homeless, you get used to your peers not sticking around, moving on to other places. But it was never this much. To tell you the truth, I don’t think anyone else noticed, much less cared if they did. Police put the official death toll of the so-called “Ash Tree Butcher” at five people. I know better than that. I bet the bodies were just somewhere the police didn’t check or that they just didn’t care enough about a couple dead bums to report it. I think they didn’t want to panic the public.
It was getting dark, and we needed a place to stay. With the killer around, cops had gotten a bit more intrusive in our usual haunts. We decided to hole up in the old Fretwell Movie Theater, I figured that place was so ancient nobody else would be there. It had been abandoned since the 50s, so most people viewed it as a death trap. George and I hauled ourselves over the fence surrounding the property, ignoring the faded “No Trespassing” sign. Someone had already removed the boards from the door, and it was even slightly ajar
Right away once we stepped inside, something felt… different. I felt watched, almost hunted. I asked George if he felt anything, but he said no, confused as to why I was asking. We moved further into the old theater and I tried to shake off the feeling, but the hairs on the back of my neck wouldn’t go back down.
Walking through an abandoned place can be a surreal experience, one that had been abandoned almost 50 years ago doubly so. You feel like you’re on another world, or in a dream. There is a tragic beauty to them, of places that once teemed with life reduced to a corpse-like shell.
We meandered through the moldering lobby, using cheap flashlights to illuminate our surroundings. We reached the auditorium itself, marveling at the crumbling screen which dominated the room. We decided to rest there for the night, and got out our blankets, hoping for uninterrupted sleep. There was no such luck.
I woke up late in the night, probably some time around midnight if I had to guess. George was gone. I figured he’d most likely wandered off to answer the call of nature, but after about 20 minutes I started to get worried. I started searching the building, periodically calling out for him, but to no avail. The stalls in both bathrooms were long vacant, the manager’s office was empty, and even the janitor’s closet remained unoccupied. Eventually, after yelling my throat hoarse, I noticed that the door to the projection booth was wide open. I paused for a moment, staring at the yawning black abyss before me, the feeling of being watched multiplying a thousandfold. I mustered up all my courage and began my way up the staircase into the booth.
As I made my way up the stairs, I could hear strange noises, like dry leaves blowing in the breeze. I shone my flashlight into the booth and saw a nightmare.
The first thing I could see were the eyes. Huge luminous orbs the size of baseballs, boring into my very soul. They had no pupil, just silver circles devoid of soul or mercy. I felt hypnotized, paralyzed with fear. Then it moved, and my mind started to process the rest of it.
Eight spindly, hairy legs like bristly tree branches rotated the bulbous body to face me. Its head was stained with blood and viscera, clattering chelicerae clicking together like a chef sharpening two knives on each other. I could see venom and ichor dripping from its fangs. Crawling all over its bulbous abdomen were dozens, if not hundreds of rat-sized spiderlings, their eyes too reflecting the light of my flashlight.
It was all I could do to avoid fainting, to keep my mind from retreating into oblivion for my own sanity’s sake. Its eight eyes stared hungrily, the two largest still reflecting like tiny moons in the dim light. My mind raced as I tried to think of what to do, how to survive. It was only then that I noticed George’s body lying on the floor. Seeing him laying there snapped my mind into focus, and made me understand what I had to do.
Neither George nor I could afford a gun, or a taser, or even pepper spray. But we’d found that potential muggers would back down fairly quickly if you sprayed ignited hair spray at them. This monster straight out of Hell itself certainly wasn’t any mugger, but I felt confident its reaction would be similar.
I dropped my flashlight, reaching for a small can of hair spray and my lighter. I flicked down on the spark wheel and pressed hard on the valve of the can, causing a jet of flame to spray towards the arachnid abomination. As I hoped, it scuttled backwards, stumbling over some old film cans. However, my plan worked too well. The fire ignited the ancient nitrate film reels which were piled on the floor, burning bright and hot. I was nearly blinded as I watched the spider and its children begin to burn, their carapaces blackening in the all-consuming heat.
Dropping the hairspray and lighter, I dragged George’s body down the stairs, hoping against hope that he was still alive, that he could be saved. I should have realized from how easy it was to carry that drained, eviscerated carcass that there was no chance for him. I sat there, clutching a desiccated corpse on the sidewalk as I watched the theater go up in flames. When I blubbered what I saw to the firefighters, they assumed I’d suffered hallucinations due to the burning cellulose nitrate’s toxic smoke.
I was given a light sentence for the arson, I guess the jury was grateful that I’d killed the “Ash Tree Butcher”, though the fire burned too hot to recover a body. I served my time, and managed to get some support from family after I was released from prison. I guess they felt sorry for me. All things considered, since that night things have been going okay for me. I have a job, I have an apartment, I have a life. Sure the nightmares suck, but at least I’m alive.
There is something else, something that lingers in the back of my mind to this day. While the fire burned the old Fretwell Movie Theater to the ground, I could have sworn I saw something through the smoke and ash. It was hard to make out, and maybe I was just hallucinating, but I thought I saw some small, rat-sized shapes scurrying off into the darkness, their tiny eyes reflecting the light of the flames…