The Charles Turner Investigation

[Text samples were transcribed from a badly burned journal, recovered at (REDACTED), Cleveland, OH, on Tuesday, November 22, at 9:10 am]

Nov 2

I no longer trust electronics. My phone is being tapped, I'm sure of it. I can hear the scratching on the other end. As for the computer, God only knows how closely they're watching me there.

The package arrived today, just like the letter said it would. Maybe everything else he's said has been true as well. I don't want it to be. The Jailers, the Sickness... I desperately hope it's all just insane ramblings. And yet...

The package was delivered via drone. Common model, impossible to trace. I can't open it yet. Hieronymus' letter instructed me to put it immediately in the freezer, and wait for further instructions. I desperately want to open it and take a peek. It's in there right now, temping me. Maybe I'll go out for a bit. If I open it, he'll know.

Nov 4

I see the Sickness more and more in people's faces. The hollowness. The pain. We're all infected, every one of us. That's what Hieronymus said. Even me. I can feel it- the leaden weight in my heart. The emptiness that steals each day. True joy is only a fleeting taste at the cure, at a better life.

Nov 5

Received a new letter from Hieronymus. Same as the others, no stamp, no return address. They must put in my mailbox directly. I try staying up, some nights, to catch them, but I always fall asleep. I thought about getting a camera, but I don't trust the cameras. Too easy for the Jailers to tap into it. And if they see Hieronymus, I'll have endangered them. I cannot risk our salvation for my selfish curiosity.

The new letter explains more. The Sickness keeps us from our true lives. Our true potential. The Jailers want to keep us sick, and docile. They work for False Gods and wicked forces. Another letter will come soon.

Nov 6

I almost came across these realizations myself, years ago. Back when times were similar. I saw the vapidness of this life. How there was something greater, something beyond. But I lost the way... Lost it, until Hieronymus set me on the true path.

Nov 9

Another letter. The time to act is almost here, but first Hieronymus has granted me a great mercy. I will be able to deliver the cure to my family, to save them before I fully commit myself to this task. I haven't talked to them in months. It will be hard to get us all together, but I will manage.

Nov 12

I opened the package today. Inside are many vials, containing a red liquid. The cure. It will release us from our bonds, stop the Sickness' hold on us. I am about to leave to meet with my family. I was forced to tell many lies to gather them together, but soon all will be forgiven.

Nov 13

Much has happened since yesterday. I am now in hiding, with nothing to my name but Hieronymus' letters, my journal, and an icebox holding the cure. I must act fast, before it warms. The police, the instruments of the Jailers, have taken my house. I cannot go back. They falsely believe my family to be dead, but I have seen the truth.

Once I met with them, I acted quickly, before they could overwhelm me with questions. I broke the vial, allowing it to warm and turn to gas, which filled the room. As much as I wished to breath it into my lungs, I was forced to retreat. My time to take the cure will come, but I have work to do first.

Upon breathing it, they were released from the Sickness. Their mortal bodies, their shackles, dissolved, freeing their spirits. I saw the lights of their souls, dancing for joy as they skipped away on the wind. It was truly beautiful, and the nobility of saving so many from the prison that is this material world filled me with a joy I cannot begin to describe. Just a taste of what I will revel in when I am free as well. Tomorrow, I will begin our work. Hieronymus has sent me an address. A place to begin dispensing the cure.

Nov 17

Success! Many have now been cured, all across town. So many horrid bodies destroyed, so many brilliant souls released from their prisons. The Jailers hunt for me relentlessly, but they will not find me. Only Hieronymus can find me. They have fashioned me with new instructions, which I need not repeat here. Everything, this journal, the letters, my house, must burn. I must leave no trace, lest the Jailers tighten the chains. Someday though, we will all be free. Then, at last, I can join the rest.

[Note: Evidence File 3A is to be withdrawn and turned over to Federal Authorities by November 25. All staff familiar with it's contents are to report to room M3 for debriefing.]