DEADBUG SAYS

They were just driving down a quiet country road when they saw a 12-year-old girl stumbling out of the darkness, barefoot, disoriented, intoxicated, and very much alone. In a place where nothing ever happens, something unspeakable already had. What she would tell authorities would unravel a story so disturbing it would leave an entire community reeling. Behind a closed door, inside a home no one t...

A nurse ( Kimberly Chargill) befriends a local woman with a learning disability (Cherry Walker) , seeing she yearns independence away from the care home she lives in, she offers her work , cleaning and doing some shopping for her. Then seeing how much she loves children, lets her babysit for her son but what begins as support becomes something else, something harder to define, darker more sinister...

Behind manicured hedgerows and winding country lanes, where reputations are polished and doors are rarely locked, something slipped quietly through the calm. A village that believed it was insulated from the darker edges of the world. But in the stillness of a Buckinghamshire night, that illusion shattered and there is a brutal murder that today people still don't want to talk about. Enjoy or...

She married the money, the suits, the skyline.the soft hum of a credit card sliding through endless tomorrows was what got her wet. While he married the smile, the legs you needed a ladder to climb and her proess in the bedroom. The woman who once wore Switzerland like a sash across her perfect shoulders. But fortunes rot. Careers collapse. Champagne turns flat. And when the glamour starts to crac...

The Moors Murders weren’t crimes of impulse. They were methodical. Patient. Almost rehearsed. In the grey sprawl of 1960s Manchester, Ian Brady and Myra Hindley didn’t just steal children they stole innocence and buried it in the bleak, wind-whipped emptiness of Saddleworth Moor. Tape recordings. Calculated lures. A peroxide smile that became the face of evil in Britain. They hunted vulnerability...

In the summer of 1984, Delores Lynch and her daughter Janie are found slaughtered on their quiet Kentucky estate — four acres of Southern calm soaked in something far uglier. Detectives circle the obvious suspect, the son who stands to inherit, but the trail doesn’t follow the money. It follows the bitterness. A collapsing marriage. A vicious custody war. A daughter-in-law with pedigree, pride, an...

In the summer of 1984, Delores Lynch and her daughter Janie are found slaughtered on their quiet Kentucky estate — four acres of Southern calm soaked in something far uglier. Detectives circle the obvious suspect, the son who stands to inherit, but the trail doesn’t follow the money. It follows the bitterness. A collapsing marriage. A vicious custody war. A daughter-in-law with pedigree, pride, an...

California in the 1970s had beaches, redwoods… and Herbert Mullin. While everyone else was worrying about inflation and pyramid power, Mullin was convinced he’d been personally recruited by the universe to prevent earthquakes. His solution? Human sacrifice. Casual, community based, DIY apocalypse prevention. He believed killing people would stabilise tectonic plates. Because nothing says “seismic...

Robert Berdella fancied himself a collector. Not stamps. Not coins. Not vintage vinyl. But young Men. He lured them into his Kansas City home with promises of food, shelter, a place to crash and then documented their torture with the kind of obsessive note taking most people reserve for dieting or fantasy football. If there were a frequent flyer programme for depravity, Berdella would’ve been plat...

Easter. A day of resurrection. Of hope. Of fresh starts and pastel-coloured lies we tell children about rabbits and redemption. But not every story ends with a stone rolled away. In this episode we look at seven murders that unfolded under the shadow of Easter that turned a holy day into a crime scene. While church bells rang and families gathered for roast dinners, somewhere else, someone was dig...

Baton Rouge had its share of monsters, but Sean Gillis wasn’t the loud, headline-hunting kind. No frantic manhunts. No media circus. Just a quiet little man with a camera, a compulsion, and a hobby that makes taxidermy look wholesome. While the world obsessed over more flamboyant killers in the same zip code, Gillis operated like a ghost with a sick imagination and far too much free time. He didn’...