Katie Books Productions presents an original podcast, man Hunt, written, produced and
narrated by Earl Sewell. Marshall held a bouquet of flowers as he kneeled down
at the accident site where Lena had been run down. He just finished tapping
a crucifix he'd picked up into the ground. The day was sunny and warm,
and the jogging path was filled with runners and cyclists, just as it
was on the day she was killed a year earlier. Marshall swept away a
tear that was sprinting down his cheek as he whispered, I miss you,
baby girl. Daddy misses you so much. Marshall said a little prayer and
then rose to his feet. He took a few deep breaths to calm his
emotions before stepping away. As Marshall walked back to his car, he began
to reflect and think about his once beautiful life filled with happiness and love.
They were ghostly memories now. After Theodore was released from the hospital after the
heart attack he'd suffered at the police station, Stacy and Marshall began to have
serious problems. Stacy took some time off work and traveled back to Florida with
her parents to help run the business that Theodore had built. She stayed gone
longer than necessary, which deeply troubled Marshall. Upon Stacy's return, she was
very cold, distant, and evasive. She threw herself back into her work
so she wasn't forced to spend quality time with Marshall so that they could work
on moving forward. Marshall didn't know exactly when they'd made the transition from a
loving couple to total strangers, but that was the reality of their marriage.
They no longer had sex with each other, and Stacy moved out of the
bedroom so she didn't have to sleep in the same bed with him. The
ache of an unhealthy marriage was like an infected wound that had a stench of
death emanating from it. If Marshall had to guess when she decided to circle
up the wagons and protect her emotions, it would have been after Theodore's heart
attack. Over the past year, she refused to focus on anything except her
career. Marshall spent all of his spare time searching for the mysterious man who'd
run down his baby and cold blood. As a result of their unwillingness to
communicate with each other. Their marriage had come to a crippling halt. It
had died, and now it was just waiting to be buried. Marshall pulled
his car into the driveway and noticed Stacy's car sitting there. Oh this is
a surprise, Marshall said aloud. He wasn't expecting to run into Stacy.
He'd planned on driving over to the cemetery to see Lena and thought that perhaps
Stacy would accompany him. Marshall parked his car and walked through the backyard towards
the house. He entered the kitchen and saw Stacy gathering up several stacks of
paper and placing them inside of her briefcase. Hey, Marshall spoke softly.
Hey, Stacy said, without even looking up at him. The tension was
like steam and a pressure cooker. I know you know what today is.
I took some vacation time to visit the cemetery and place flowers near Lena's headstone.
Would you like to come with me? Marshall continued to speak softly.
I have an appointment to keep Marshall, Stacy said, as she placed a
monk filled with coffee in the sink. She still refused to look at Marshall
and treated him as if his very presence annoyed her. God damn, Stacy,
you mean to tell me you don't even have thirty minutes to visit with
your daughter. Marsha couldn't take it anymore and snapped at her. I've cried
all I can, Marshall. I can't be all emotional and take care of
business this afternoon. Stacy's words were as bitter as a sub zero winter.
She put on her sunglasses and turned to walk out the door. Stacy.
Marshall trailed behind her. Stop. Why can't we talk about this? There
is nothing to talk about, Marshall. Stacy walked around to the driver's side
of her car and got inside. Where are we, Stacy? What's happened
to us? Why can't we get through this? Marshall asked as she slammed
the car door shut. I'm getting through it just fine. Marshall. You're
the one who can't let it go. Maybe it's because you feel guilty.
I don't know, but I certainly don't have the time or energy to deal
with you right now. Stacy fired up the motor and backed out of the
driveway. Marshall exhaled with aggravation as he watched her drive off down the street.
After Marshall visited the cemetery, he came home to an empty house and
decided to watch family videos he'd made of Lina over the years. He put
in a tape of Lina. When she was three years old. He and
Stacy had taken Lena to a local neighborhood playground. It was summertime and Nina
was wearing her favorite sun dress and a pair of sandals. Lena was wearing
a pair of brown flat sandals, some mini blue jeans, shorts, and
a white T shirt that had a dinosaur on it. Marshall was filming as
Lina explored the sandbox. She had a yellow plastic bucket and matching shovel with
her. Lina's little feet rushed over to the sandbox, where she squatted down
and began the task of digging. Come here, Come here. Lena was
speaking to Marshall and motioning with her fingers for him to join her in the
sandbox. What did you find? Marshall asked her. You help, Lena
said, and began placing sand in the bucket. Stacy began laughing, I
guess she told you, baby Stacy said to Marshall, and she wants to
put you to work. Marshall pressed fast forward on the remote. When he
pressed play again, the screen showed Lena a few years later, at the
age of five. The video was during a warm Easter holiday. The Easter
Bunny is coming, said Lina, who believed in the Easter Bunny just as
much as she did Santa Claus. She was thrilled to learn that a bunny
rabbit would bring her gifts and Easter eggs. That particular Easter Sunday was a
rather warm one, so they did some filming outside of their house. Marshall,
not wanting to disappoint Lena, went to a costume shop and rented an
Easter Bunny outfit. That year, the Easter Bunny had brought Lena a pink
barbie bicycle that had training wheels and pink and white streamers in the handlebars.
Lena, who was also taking balletty lessons at the time, wanted to wear
her pink dancing skirt and white tights. She wanted her clothes to match the
bike, just like her. Daddy. Quentin, who had stopped by that
day, was the person behind the camera. Stacy was helping Lena with her
helmet and knee and elbow pads. I got it, mommy, I can
do it by myself, Lena said. Where did you get that pretty bike
from? Quentin asked Lena the Easter Bunny bought for me. I think he
left it in the house for me while I was sleeping. Lena said,
really, now, said Quentin, with the men in his voice. Did
he bring me a bike too? Now? Because you don't live here,
you have to go home and check the closet, Quentin laughed. The closet.
What a closet, he asked, because that's where the Easter Bunny likes
to hide everything in closets? Oh does he? Quentin laughed with delight.
This little girl is just too smart for her own good, chimes Stacy,
who had finally finished fiddling with all of her padding. I'm going to start
writing now, Lena said. You have to follow me. No sooner than
Lena began peddling, Marshall stepped out in plain View, wearing a giant white
Easter Bunny costume. Marshall kneeled down and opened his arms for a big hug.
Lena's eyes grew wide. She inhaled a big breath and held it for
a moment before shouting, it's the aster by me get him before he hops
away. Lena peddled as fast as she could and rammed into the Easter Bunny,
knocking him down. Marshall pressed stop on the tape. He was in
the middle of laughing and crying, somewhere between the tears of joy and the
tears of sorrow. He got on his hands and knees and crawled over to
the television screen and touched it. He wished he could turn back the hands
of time. He wished he could make his nightmare end. Marshall had fallen
asleep with the television on. When Stacy returned home. Marshall, wake up.
Stacy shook his shoulder. Come on, wake up, I have something
important I need to tell you. Marshall slowly came to live. He was
happy to see Stacy had made it home safely. What's going on? I
have something important I need to tell you. Come in the kitchen. I've
made some coffee. Coffee, what's going on? What's this about? Marshall
could sense immediately that something wasn't right. Just come in the kitchen. Marshall
remained for a moment and watched Stacy walk down the corridor and enter the kitchen.
He collected himself and went to see what was so important. Marshall sat
down at the kitchen table while Stacy bought over cups of coffee. This is
not easy for me to say, so I'm just going to say it.
Wait a minute, what's going on? What is this all about? Marshall
asked, not wanting to deal with any druma at that particular moment. It's
about us, Marshall, I think, deep down inside you know what this
is about. Marshall's heart began racing. Oh no, Stacy, we can
get some help. I don't want this. We can work through this.
Just give me a chance. I don't feel for you anymore, Marshall.
I am not in love with you any more, and it's not fair to
either of us to live in misery, Stacy explained. Listen, Stacy,
I'm still working on the case, okay. I haven't given up. I'm
going to find the person who did this. I've been talking to some private
investigators. I wanted to talk to you about it. Marshall. Stop.
This is not about the investigation. I know you've been working on it.
I know that you've been trying, but Stacy paused, you and I are
like two ships sailing on the ocean in a very bad storm. This storm
has taken its toll on both of us. You want to sail right through
the storm and continue hoping that it will clear up. I don't. I
need to sail around this storm and move on. I filed for a divorce,
Marshall. What do you mean you filed for a divorce. Marshall didn't
want to believe what she just told him. He didn't want to believe what
he was hearing. I can't go on like this, Stacy said. Her
logic seemed rational. Whatever happened to those vows we took for better or worse,
Stacy, what happened to them? I don't know. I don't have
the answer to that. All I know is I want out, Stacy.
I'm going to find the guy. You don't have to do this. I'm
going to find the guy who did this to us, and I'm going to
make him pay. I'm gonna hurt him real bad. I'm gonna make him
suffer. I'm gonna rip his fucking head off. Marshall, listen to what
you're saying you've changed. You're so goddamned obsessed with finding the guilty person.
You're so filled with anger and rage, and it has consumed you. I
am afraid of you, afraid of me. What are you afraid of me
for? Marshall didn't understand you pulled a gun on me. Marshall, you
pulled it on my mother and my father. That was last year, Marshall
barked in anger. I saw a different side of you, Marshall. I
saw the vengeance and rage of retribution in your eyes. I thought I'd only
see that one time, but I see it every day that you leave here
searching for the person responsible. I live in fear that you're going crazy and
will shoot, kill, or hurt the wrong person. I live in fear
of you getting so angry that you'll pull a gun on me again. You
don't have time for our marriage. I come home late because I can't stand
to here. You constantly talk about what has happened. I don't want you
to talk to me because that's all you talk about. You have to move
on, Marshall. Finding this person and hurting them. Finding this person and
hurting them is not going to bring Lena back is not going to change what
has happened. Don't say that to me. Marshall had a wild look in
his eyes that made Stacey flinch with fear. No man ruins my life and
gets away with it. Nobody's going to destroy my life. Marshall pick up
a cup of coffee and threw it across the room, smashing it against the
wall. I'm gonna kill that motherfucker when I find him. Marshall's chest was
heaving and he kept clinching his fists. You have you can have the house,
Marshall. I don't want it. I'm moving back to Florida. Stacy
began crying. Another man, I'm married anymore. You can't leave me.
I'm not going to let you. I'll luck your ass up in this house
before I let you leave me. Marshall, you should say stuff like that.
Stacy's voice trembled. Okay, okay, okay. Marshall held up his
hands and tried to reassure Stacy that he was calm. I should not have
said that, Marshall. I emotionally removed myself from our marriage long ago.
I'm just now getting the courage to tell you we can see a therapist or
a marriage counselor why don't we try to work this out? Why are you
giving up? Marshall didn't understand. Because I don't want our marriage anymore.
I've had enough, Stacy said, as she rose to her feet. Where
are you going? We have to talk about this some more, Stacy,
Stacy do so would do this to me? Please? Bye, Marshall,
I'll be a touch. Stacy walked toward the door and then out of the
house. Marshal felt like a wounded animal, too crippled to move, yet
too strong to die.