It’s only been a year since I’ve been out of grad school. I never thought that I would write a report like this.
A neighbor had given us the call, that’s not unusual. After months of little clues here and there, they had suspected that the Smith’s had a child hidden away in their home. To anyone’s knowledge, the Smith’s did not have any children.
It didn’t take very long at all to discover that Mrs. Kayleen Smith did indeed give birth to twin boys over fifteen years ago in New Jersey, and in the years since, the Smith’s had lived in different residences all over the country, never staying in one place for longer than eight months at a time.
I had been called in along with two deputies, in order to check on the welfare of the children. Children that no one had seen. There were no school records, vaccination records, or doctors records of any kind.
There were only two names on two birth certificates. James Smith and Kyle Smith. There was also a death certificate for Kyle Smith less than two months after his birth.
Mrs. Smith let us in the home without any resistance and told us that her sons had passed away shortly after they were born. She was more than compliant as the deputies searched her home; although she did call her husband, who came to the premises within ten minutes of her call.
I will admit that the exchanges with Mrs. Smith became more and more awkward as the minutes went by, and as the deputies went into the basement, she seemed to be shaking. Mr. Smith arrived on premises directly after the deputies went into the basement. He leapt out of the vehicle holding a handgun.
Almost immediately after going into the basement, Deputy Morrow ran back up the stairs, and that is when Mr. Smith entered the home and began shooting. After a brief exchange of gunfire, Deputy Morrow had shot Mr. Smith, who died at the scene.
Mrs. Smith had been shot in the stomach. Deputy Morrow then called for backup and began to attend to Mrs. Smith, who was begging us not to take her son.
I ran down to the basement and discovered that the Smith’s had indeed been holding one of their sons in deplorable conditions. He was chained to the floor from four sides. The chains were attached to a collar around his neck. There were multiple scars all over every inch of his body, along with two seemingly fresh lacerations to his torso.
A black cloth sack was over his head, and after it was taken off, we discovered that his eyes were absent. It appeared as if this was an abnormality at birth rather than any intervention or mutilation. There was also a handmade contraption of leather and metal strapped around his head which covered the lower half of his face from underneath the nose to around the bottom of the jaw.
Air fresheners were hung from the rafters and two oscillating fans were sweeping the room. The entire floor was covered in scented kitty litter that was more than two inches deep in some places. There was evidence that the boy had been urinating and defecating onto the floor; several five gallon buckets were filled with excrement coated in litter. The rusty shovel that was used to clean the floor was standing next to the buckets. There was evidence that the Smith’s had been feeding their son nothing but dry dog food and a large trough of brown water was all that the boy had to drink.
As the boy was removed from the premises, Mrs. Smith, still lying on the floor, was still begging us not to take him from her. After a lengthy search of the home, the other son was not located. Mrs. Smith was questioned as to the whereabouts of her other son, and at this line of questioning, she broke down into hysterical sobs and laughter. She made one statement as she was rushed to the hospital. “Don’t let him out.”
I rode in the ambulance with the boy on the way to the hospital. The contraption was removed from the lower half of his face. He was facing in my direction and he was smiling as if he could see me. There were no teeth present, and I took note of the fact that his jaw flopped open at an odd angle when the contraption was removed. The paramedic also took notice of this and said that the boy’s jaw appeared to have been broken in several places and never reset.
His mouth was agape by almost two or three times more than normal by my estimation and pronounced stretch marks were noted streaking from the corners of his mouth and running towards the back of his neck. The inability to move his jaw interfered with any communication, however I believe it went deeper than that.
His vocalizations were horrifying to say the least. Obviously his parents had not spoken around him whatsoever, as my attempts at communication were met with not speech, but noises. What I was hearing was a guttural collection of sounds that had been put together with influences from ambient noises, such as clicks, sharp inhales, and hisses.
The sounds appeared to affect not only myself, but the paramedic as well. I can only describe it as a sort of misophonia, as if the sounds themselves were creating feelings of confusion and rage in my head.
The boy’s breathing was very shallow and ragged, and the paramedic had placed a breathing mask over his mouth, having to support the jaw in order to do so. After that, the feelings of confusion and rage were suddenly gone as soon as they had come.
After a moment, the boy’s abdomen began to twitch. His hands were gripping the side of the stretcher and that brought my attention to the fact that there were no fingernails present.
The paramedic began to treat the boy’s wounds on his stomach and something internally reacted under the touch of the paramedic. The boy’s abdomen began to twitch violently at first, and then ceased as abruptly as it began. The paramedic had no answer for what we were seeing.
The ambulance then pulled into the hospital. The boy was wheeled into the emergency room, and I began to write up my report while I waited for the police and an officer from foster care to arrive. Two officers were already there, as Mrs. Smith had already been admitted prior to our arrival.
The ER was quite busy already. With nowhere to sit, I had been standing at the corner of the Nurses Station typing up a brief summary of everything that had taken place. I had decided to put in my earphones and listen to music, so as not to be distracted while I wrote my initial report.
At approximately 3:47 p.m., little more than fifteen minutes after I had arrived at the emergency room, two more police officers ran into the ER. They spoke to the two officers who were already there. They then began to evacuate the room, while the other two officers ran further down the hall toward the boys room.
I identified myself to the officers and began to explain why I needed to remain on premises. I was told by one Officer Dalton that a video was found back at the house and that’s why we were being evacuated. The cryptic explanation was all I received before the last incident occurred.
It was at that point that I heard gunfire and screaming from down the hall. Everyone waiting in the lobby ran out the doors. The officers in the lobby ran to the sounds and I looked toward the computer screens behind the Nurses Station.
I had a clear view on the monitors of the hallways beyond the waiting room. There was a wounded officer crawling out of an open room and he was bleeding excessively. The officers rounded the corner of the hall on the monitors and could see the officer who was down.
The wounded officer was then pulled backward into the room by someone. I could hear him scream as the other officers slowed their approach towards the open room with their guns drawn.
I will say that the next portion of this does not make sense. I am aware of how my statements will be perceived. No one has done me the courtesy of confirming any of this. It is evident to me that some form of surveillance footage had to have been taken of the incident, as that is how I was able to see it in the first place. However, I understand that this is an ongoing investigation and my understanding of the events is not of priority.
Perhaps I was in shock, but this is what I saw on the nurses monitors.
As the two officers approached the room, a doctor ran from the open room into the opposite wall of the hallway at full speed, knocking herself unconscious. The doctor came to rest on the floor of the hallway and did not move. Then I heard the vocal clicking and hissing from the boy echoing down the hallway.
Again, I felt the feelings of rage I had experienced in the ambulance, but I immediately noticed that they were far more pronounced than they had been earlier. I fumbled for my headphones and jammed them deep into my ears and then turned the volume up. The rage left as soon as I could no longer hear the boy and I was once again come over with fear, but an unwillingness to leave.
It was then that I saw the boy emerge from the room. He was now wearing a hospital gown that was smeared with bloody handprints. The top of his head was doubled over onto itself; that’s the only way I can describe it. His upper and lower jaw were parallel to the ceiling, and the back of his head was touching the back of his neck.
He raised his hands at the officers, and they lowered their guns and dropped to their knees. Several other doctors and hospital staff ran into the hallway from other operating rooms, and in a similar fashion upon seeing or hearing the boy, they all dropped to their knees as well. The boy walked down the hallway until he came to one of the other rooms.
He pointed inside the room, and I watched as Officer Dalton got off of his knees and walked into the open door that the boy was pointing at. Officer Dalton came back out of the room holding Mrs. Smith who was crying out and holding her stomach. She was thrown at the feet of the boy.
She was saying something, but I did not for a moment think of taking out my earphones in order to hear what was being said. The boy’s body turned and faced his mother. His back was to me on the video monitor, but the top half of his upside down face was pointed back toward the camera. It was at this point that something struggled up from inside of the boy’s neck. His body was spasming, and I took note that his mass seemed to shift. His shoulders dropped and his hands fell to his sides.
There appeared to be some sort of growth or appendage emerging from the gaping jawline. It was difficult to see from behind. But there did appear to be what looked like a small arm and hand that was attached to the side of the growth. The boy knelt down beside his mother. The pronounced growth was close to her face. The small arm on the growth reached toward Mrs. Smith, and the hand on the end of it ran down the face of Mrs. Smith.
It was at this point that Officer Dalton turned his gun towards everyone else that was kneeling in the hallway. One by one, Officer Dalton executed every person in that hallway with the exception of the boy and Mrs. Smith. He even stopped to reload. No one in the hallway put up any resistance or even moved. They merely stared slack jawed at the boy until they were shot.
After Officer Dalton had killed everyone he turned the gun on himself. Mrs. Smith was still crying and shaking her head. She was doing something with her arms, but the back of the boy blocked my view from whatever it was. I should have run, but I was unable to even think of it at that point. I was fixed onto that monitor.
After almost a minute longer, I could see that Mrs. Smith began to convulse and she was spitting up blood until eventually she fell to the floor. The boy stood back up, and through the backs of his legs, I could see the body of Mrs. Smith.
It appeared that the wound in her stomach had been torn until it was a large hole. Several of her organs were laying on the floor around her body and I could see that her hands were covered in viscera and flesh. It appeared to me that Mrs. Smith had done this to herself, as there were no signs on the boy’s hands of any such activity.
The small arm folded itself against the appendage as the boy turned and began to shuffle towards the waiting room. The growth, or appendage, began to lower itself back down into the boy’s throat until it was no longer visible. Just before it was gone from view, the boy had come close enough to the camera that I could almost see it clearly. It appeared to be a parasite of some type with a deformed face of a small boy. As I’ve not been allowed to see the footage, I can’t say with certainty what it was that I saw.
I was in shock, I couldn’t find the strength in my legs to run, but I did manage to slide down the wall, and was partially obscured by the nurses station. The boy walked past me, but stopped just short of the door. The boy reached upward with his left hand and gripped the hair on his head and positioned the upper half of his head back over the lower half. I kept my hand over my mouth. The urge to scream was almost unbearable as I watched something moving underneath his skin in the back of the open robe. It looked as if something was settling.
The boy turned towards me. I was staring back at his empty eye sockets. I have never felt fear like that in my life. A small hand protruded from between the toothless gums and pushed upwards. I saw the top of the head moving upwards again like a lid coming off of a bottle, and I saw the top of the parasite beginning to reemerge.
I lost consciousness after that, and woke up later in a hospital bed. I have made statement after statement and I’ve been put on leave. I don’t know where I go from here or how I can keep living the way I always have after seeing what I’ve seen. I feel that my mind has been irreversibly damaged.