The Things We Couldn't Forget

Chapter 41.

"Disturbing news coming out of Faulkner Montana today as a decade old case has been thrust back into the headlines. John Jacobs, convicted serial killer of at least 12 young girls, has had his ruling overturned as new details have come to light in the case. We are getting news that his son, Dallas Jacobs of Faulkner Montana, has been convicted of not only those 12 young ladies's slayings, but also four more recent killings that have taken place over the last couple of weeks. A search of Jacobs's Colorado home uncovered multitudes of evidences connecting him to the murders previously believed to have been his own father. According to his sister and friend, Jacobs confessed to the slayings before ultimately killing himself late last week at his childhood home in Faulkner Montana. The last of Jacobs's victims bodies was also recovered, finally putting to rest the monster of this once sleepy mountain town. Our hearts and prayers go out to the victim's families at this time. We will be keeping you all updated as this story continues to unfold. This has been Elroy Jinks, reporting from The Faulkner Insider.

It all happened too fast.

One second I had a brother, the next, he was gone.

It had taken until mid morning the next day before they were able to retrieve their bodies.

Dallas and Amie.

In a matter of seconds I'd seen my worst nightmares come to life before my eyes.

There were so many police and detectives and flashing blue lights and sirens and screaming, mostly my own, but I hadn't been able to hear any of it.

All I could hear was the hollow beating of my own heart pounding in my ears. I was alive, and Dallas was dead.

Everything I'd thought I'd understood about my life changed in a matter of hours. From the time I left my house to the time I came back.

The ambulance took me away.

I had to leave my brother behind.

I needed help from the wounds he had inflicted onto me. He'd hurt me. My brother who I trusted more than anyone, had wrapped his hands around my neck. He had broken my ribs, fractured my collar bone, and broken my heart.

The pain was insurmountable, but I'd cried and screamed and begged the EMTs not to give me anything.

They'd argued.

"I'm an addict." I'd cried out, and their faces had shifted.

For the first time in my life, in the most pain I'd ever endured, I'd denied my escape. I wanted to feel it. I wanted every bit of the excruciating pain. I needed to face it and what it all meant.

My brother was a monster.

I'd been so blind all along. Buried my head in the sand and refused to see what had always been right in front of me. I knew my father was a good man, and I'd refused to see it. Chosen to take answers given to me while never looking for my own. I'd been so stupid, and I wanted to feel everything that came with it.

I couldn't sleep.

Every single time I'd close my eyes I would feel his hands around my throat. I'd see his body falling.

I stared mechanically at the clock on the wall in my hospital room and watched the hands move round and round.

I answered every question.

Countless statements.

I'd told everything that had happened. Everything he'd told me in his final hours on this earth. The heartbreaking truth that my father was innocent. That he and my mother had known what Dallas had done, and that their love for their son had led them both to their untimely deaths.