The body count is racking up as victims are found dead in their own homes. Then there are the photos left behind with chilling messages left for the victim, or are they taunts for the police? The challenge has become clear, how do you stop a killer with no motive?

Once I was a god. Worshiped. Revered. The huddled masses cast themselves at my feet, heads bowed and eyes wide. Save us, they begged. Spare us, they pleaded. And, fool that I was, I tried. Now I am nothing. Fallen. A bitter memory of an age long passed. A broken old fool too stubborn to die. This is my story. My rise, my fall. The pathetic mess, after. Read it. Don’t. I care little. My words are not for you.