All language subtitles for Confronting.a.Serial.Killer.S01E01.Getting.Away.With.Murders.1080p.AMZN.WEB-DL.DDP.5.1.H.2

This is the first time

I've been back here in a year.

It's the first crime scene

I went and visited.

I didn't see it at night

the first time.

It's a lot spookier
and more threatening

and more confusing at night.

I feel like these
places have memories

and have sounds and smells.

It's really important for me

to walk in the victim's shoes

when I'm trying to tell a story.

Carol Alford was an
African American woman.

She was 41 years old.

On the night of July 12, 1987,

she met Sam Little,

and they spent a
few hours together,

and by the morning,
she was dead.

She had been strangled, dragged,

beaten.

He killed her here,

and she was left in this alley

with the trash.

And I know because

he told me that.

The FBI calls Samuel Little.

America's most
prolific serial killer.

Now, if you want me
to tell my secrets to you,

come down here and look
me in my eye while I do.

My deal with the devil is,

"You will not die alone
if you tell me the truth."

I'm not going to
admit to those girls.

I don't believe you,

so you tell me
the truth right now.

Little strangled 93 victims

between 1970 and 2005.

He was tried and got off

again and again and again.

Investigators believe
that Samuel Little

killed more people than
serial killers Ted Bundy,

John Wayne Gacy, and
Jeffery Dahmer combined.

If you weren't locked up,

I'd probably be dead by now.

You're right.

I am Jillian Lauren.

I'm an author and a
true-crime journalist.

I am writing a book
about a serial killer

Samuel Little.

Samuel Little was
convicted of three murders

in Los Angeles in 2014,

murders he vehemently denied.

But I suspect

that he killed so many more
women across the country.

I think that I can safely say

I have written every day
of my life since I was eight.

What storytelling does for me
is that it gives me a framework

to make sense of the world.

It instilled a curiosity in me

and a desire to

look into the more
shadowy corners

of humanity.

In 2017, I was
researching a mystery novel

when I scored an interview

with a veteran
homicide detective.

My name is Mitzi Roberts.

I'm a detective with the Los
Angeles Police Department,

Robbery-Homicide Division.

And I've been on the job, it's
coming up on 25 years now.

15-80, 61

I love working homicides.

It's that ultimate puzzle.

You have to be very tenacious.

During my interview with Mitzi,

I asked, "What cases are
you the most proud of?"

And she said, "Well,
I'm proud of them all,

but I did catch this
serial killer once."

Mitzi told me that there
had been this serial killer

who was active in
Los Angeles in the '80s

and that she had been

the lead investigator
on the case.

He had been convicted
of three murders,

but she suspected there were
many, many more murders

across the country.

And she started
to tell me the story.

In the early 2000s,

when I was working
in the Cold Case Unit,

DNA was a newer technology,

but it was having
such major successes

in solving violent crimes.

Mitzi and I were
assigned to work together.

We knew we had probably 10,000

unsolved murders
going back to 1960.

It's mind-boggling.

In the '80s, the
crack-cocaine epidemic

was out of control.

There was a lot of prostitution,

and a large portion
of it was focused

in the South Central
portion of Los Angeles.

Prostitutes often times,

drug users

the wayward souls

quite often, they
were victimized,

whether they were
just raped and beat

or murdered.

Now we know there
were multiple serial killers

in the area at the time,

and that was their
hunting ground.

Audrey Nelson was found

on August 14, 1989

in a trash dumpster behind
a Chinese-food restaurant

in the central downtown
area of Los Angeles.

Audrey had an
extensive arrest record

for drug and prostitution
related crimes.

She was also a
mother of a young child.

And the cause of death
was manual strangulation.

Approximately three weeks later,

the body of Guadalupe
Apodaca was found

on September 3, 1989.

She was found in an
abandoned auto-body shop.

Her body was
shoved into a corner

on an old discarded mattress.

Guadalupe Apodaca was Hispanic.

She had prior offenses

for drug related
crimes and prostitution.

She had two sons at the time.

On July 13, 1987,

the body of Carol Alford,
a Black female mother,

was found discarded

in an alleyway.

Not a prostitute,

but known to
occasionally drink and...

And possibly had some
issues with narcotics.

All of these women were beaten

and manually strangled to death.

And all of these
murder locations

were in a few
miles of each other.

As many times as you see the MO,

it's still shocking to
look at a woman's body

discarded with trash

and dumped by
the side of the road.

These three women,

their homicides went
unsolved for decades.

And then in 2012,

I got a hit, a DNA hit,

on the case of Audrey Nelson

and Guadalupe Apodaca

and then Carol Alford.

They have a link basically
to the same suspect.

Forensic analysis confirms

that these three
different cases matched

with the same person's DNA.

And that person
was Samuel Little,

AKA Samuel McDowell.

At the time, he
was 71 years old.

So, once I get that
name, I'm off to the races.

In 2012, Detective
Roberts came to me

because of the experience
that I had handling,

you know, half a
dozen or so serial killers.

I am Beth Silverman.

I'm a deputy district attorney

with the LA County
District Attorney's Office,

assigned to the
Major Crimes Division.

One of the first things
we did, obviously,

was look at Sam
Little's rap sheet.

It's shocking

not only the level of violence

against women,

but how long of
a rap sheet it was.

It went back all the way
until when he was a teenager.

What was amazing was
that he had been arrested,

I think it was in
24 different states.

Just arrest after
arrest after arrest,

many for assault,
sexual assaults,

murder.

But he wasn't spending
a lot of time in jail.

Holy crap.

So that's disturbing

because the potential
that he's still doing

violent crimes against
women is likely.

Mitzi began to suspect

that he might
commit more murders,

sexually motivated
serial murders

across the country.

She knew she had to
get this guy into custody,

so she began to track him.

Basically I was following him

wherever he left a
digital or written trace

of being somewhere.

I'm actively tracking
him, trying to find him,

but he was on the move,

and I was always
one step behind him,

three days behind him.

Until somebody identifies
him or his license plate,

I'm stuck kind of only
knowing the last place he went.

And then Mitzi learned

that Sam Little was receiving

some type of disability
benefits out of state,

and so she was able
to track those benefits

to Louisville, Kentucky.

And I'm like,
"Bam, I-I got you."

So I immediately
call the U.S. Marshals.

I want to say within no
more than three hours,

I get a call, and
he's in custody.

I said, "Bingo, they got him."

On September 2, 2014,

Little was found guilty
of all three counts

of first-degree murder.

A serial killer has
learned his fate.

74-year-old Samuel
Little was sentenced today

for killing three women
in South Los Angeles

in the 1980s.

Crimes involved great
violence, cruelty, and viciousness.

Shackled to the
sides of his wheelchair,

Samuel Little was not
interested in apologizing.

This conviction was
brought on by lies

and liars coached by liars.

Throughout the entire trial,

Sam Little vehemently denied
committing these murders

again and again and again.

Today the 74-year-old
was sentenced

to three consecutive life terms

without the
possibility of parole.

He's off the streets.

They managed to put him away.

But it always nagged at me

because I knew... I
knew he was a serial killer.

I knew he was good for more.

I knew there was
unsolveds out there.

And I can't get anybody
interested in it, in the story.

Mitzi felt that these had
been under reported cases,

in large part because
Samuel Little's victims

were in marginalized populations

women of color, drug
addicts, prostitutes,

women who were considered

unimportant.

"This phenomenon has
been referred to as being

"'less dead.'

"Marginalized homicide
victims historically

"are not as
thoroughly investigated

"as their wealthier, whiter,

"and perhaps more
sober counterparts.

"Pretty, white college
students are the 'most dead.'

Black hookers are
the 'least dead.'"

The idea that there were
so many women out there,

potentially so many victims

who had been
brutalized and forgotten

is not acceptable to me.

And when I learned
he was a strangler,

that was what
planted the seed in me

to start pursuing this story,

because I was a victim, too,

somebody who was lucky enough

to have survived.

When I was 20 years old,

I went to Mills College,

which is a women's college
in Oakland, California.

I eventually was introduced

to heroin.

The first time I tried heroin, I

was just like...

"This is the way I've
been waiting to feel."

Really, it was
just like breathing.

It was like I finally
took a full breath.

And that was it.

I decided I liked heroin
better than I liked college.

I was in a pretty dark
place at that time.

I was really lost.

I wound up meeting this guy

who became my boyfriend,

and he was really explosive,

and he was really
bright and so exciting,

and, um, you know,

and-and was also
a heroin addict.

And we were living
together at the time.

It was a-a while before he

became violent.

And then he started
shoving me up against a wall.

Then he started, um,

barricading me in
the house for days.

He was emotionally
abusive as well,

and my friends started
to get really concerned.

And they said, you know, like,

"We're worried.
You have to get out.

We're worried for your
safety. He is very dangerous."

So I got a storage space,

and I made a plan to
move to Los Angeles.

Shit.

Just give me a second, okay?

And I didn't tell him,

and I was packing
my stuff one day

when he came home.

I remember I was in the kitchen.

I was placing each one
of my glasses in a box.

And he was, like,
two feet from me,

and he was just
crying and crying.

I kept packing the
glasses, and, um

like, the next thing I
knew, I was on the floor,

and he was on top of me,

and his hands were
around my neck.

And I was coming to,

and, and it was like

I thought that I...
I might be dead.

I looked up at him, and
he had his hands like this.

He just looked so exhilarated,

and I couldn't tell if
he was exhilarated

because he had
finally tried to kill me

or because he had
stopped himself.

I felt very confused.

And then there was
this undercurrent

of pain and shame.

After that, he stood up,

and he reached
his hand out to me

to lift me off the floor.

And he pulled me up,

and

it's still the moment
I most regret.

I just wish I hadn't
let him pull me up.

I just wish I had gotten back
onto my feet by myself, but.

I did eventually.

When you've had a painful past,

it can create a
sense of empathy.

That's why I care
about these victims.

I want to understand

violence against
women in this culture.

And this is the part
I can play in this

to bring some
sort of voice, story,

justice, humanity
to these victims

who are dehumanized

by being ignored.

An essential part of the story

is obviously Samuel Little.

So I started
reaching out to him.

I-I-I wrote him a letter.

I told him I was
interested in his story.

I was scared of
him in the beginning.

I remember the first
letter I opened of his,

I wore gloves.

You know, like, I
wore rubber gloves.

I was so grossed out.

And we exchanged letters.

Then I applied to
visit him in prison,

and I got approved.

I'll tell you one
thing about Jillian,

when she gets
an idea in her head

that she wants to do
something, it is gonna happen.

I am Scott G. Shriner,

husband of Jillian Lauren,

father of Tariku
and Jovanni Shriner.

My husband is the bassist

of the band Weezer.

And he is a shredder.
And he's awesome.

Wait, what about this one?

What do you think
about this one?

Who's that?

- Well, that's Mommy.
- Wait, that's you?

That doesn't
look like you at all.

I told my husband,
"I'm gonna pursue this.

It's about these victims.
It's about these women."

And I believe

there are many
more victims out there

whose cases are unsolved.

What do you...
what do you think of

when you look at this picture?

Dad looks pretty
handsome in that picture.

I was reluctant.

I was like, "I don't
know about, you know",

"getting friendly with the guy."

"I mean, he's a vicious killer."

You know, "Are
you gonna be safe?

What's this what is this
gonna do to you emotionally?"

I got to kind of watch
out for my well-being

and our kids, too.

And, we talked about it.

It-it did seem important,

and it seemed like
it meant a lot to her.

These victims'
stories need to be told,

and the importance of it
outweighed my reluctance.

My husband was
like, "I support you."

And I said, "I'm
going in there."

"I'm going in there,

and I'm gonna
talk to Sam Little."

When I drove up
to the guard station,

I had a panic attack.

It's pretty nerve-racking.

He is a vicious killer.

But I just thought,

"I'm just gonna not be afraid."

That's what he feeds off of,

is women's fear.

When I walked inside...

It's one of the largest
prisons in the country.

It was truly terrifying

to walk into that giant cage.

And it is very hot.

It really-it really is hell.

My knees were actually,
like, knocking together.

When I finally entered.

B Block visiting room,

I-I made it, and I
got in, and I sat there,

and I waited, and I
was watching a door

in the other side of the room,

and Sam came out
of the other door.

By the time I
noticed he was there,

he was, like, right here.

There was this serial killer
four inches from my face.

And he said, "You.

You."

And I was like, "What's
gonna happen now?"

He said, "You"

"are my angel come
to visit me from Heaven.

What do you want to know?"

It was almost like
I couldn't move.

I'm processing the
fact that I, you know,

I've really never sat in
front of a murderer before.

And the first thing that
struck me was his eyes.

And what I see is, like,
there's nothing behind them.

There's nothing.

I said, "You know, I'm a writer"

"who is-is curious
about violent crime.

I'm wondering if you
might be able to help me."

And that whole first day,

he just fed me a line of shit.

"You know, I was framed."

He maintained his innocence.

You know, "DNA is bullshit."

"All that proves is that
you were somewhere.

"I have just been
in the wrong place

at the wrong time."

I knew that he was lying.

And then I said goodbye,

and I went home.

I was feeling pretty despondent.

But it lit a fire in me

and made me determined

to look deeper into Sam's past.

These are two

of the 27 notebooks of research

I have on this case,

and this is really
where it started.

I started looking at
the public records,

calling local jurisdictions,

and I

couldn't believe
what I was finding.

I read his rap sheet,

which was

astounding.

Samuel Little had a rap
sheet over 100 pages long,

everything from petty theft

to assault to rape

to murder.

There have been a lot

of sexual assault victims.

He was tried and got off
again and again and again.

I thought, "This can't be true.

This is outrageous."

I was furious.

And when I find
something hard to believe,

I'm not gonna
take it at face value.

I'm gonna go in

and really do the
investigative work

and confirm it,

because I thought,
"There's no way this is true.

There must've been
something else going on."

And if there wasn't,

why?

Like, why did he get
away with this for so long?

And how?

So, in 2018,

I went to Pascagoula,
Mississippi,

to meet Hilda Nelson.

Hilda Nelson is one

of Sam's surviving victims.

She was attacked by Sam Little

in July 1980,

but somehow survived.

When I went to Pascagoula,

it was my first real fieldwork

around the Sam Little case.

This is my little recorder.

When I do research, I, you know,

when given permission,
always record any conversation.

Um, so this is my
audio of Hilda Nelson,

who I hoped could
give me a window

unto a world

in which Sam operated...

Carver Village.

What was it like?
Describe it to me.

What were the clubs like?

Were they bars?
Was there dancing?

Before the incident
happened with Sam,

was there ever any violence?

Hilda was just like,

"I don't count on
this justice system

"to bring any kind
of accountability

or justice to me."

She said the only
reason anyone cared

that a Black prostitute in
Mississippi was attacked

was when a white
girl went missing

two years later.

And that girl was
Melinda LaPree.

My sister, Mindy,

she went missing in
September of 1982.

Her boyfriend called my father

to tell him that, you
know, Mindy's missing.

I was really worried, obviously.

Her boyfriend, he had been told

by some of her friends
that she had gotten

into a car with a man
and never saw her again.

I was certainly very, concerned

that something
terrible had happened.

That's when I started
to get in contact

with the authorities.

Melinda LaPree
was a white female.

She's 22 years old.

She was a prostitute.

She's been missing.
She's not come home.

Their initial reaction was,

"Well, we don't
really have any reason

"to think there
has been foul play,

"and so she may
have just moved on

and not told anybody."

It had only been
a couple of hours,

and the officer
at the front desk

basically told him,
"Come back in the morning

if she hasn't returned,"
which was typical in that day,

for prostitutes to leave
for days sometimes,

only to come back and
not really be missing.

I suspect that Sam Little

got away with this for so long

because he was operating

in communities he
knew were ignored

places where he was confident

he wouldn't get caught

because he felt his
victims were invisible.

Judson Brooks was

one of the original
investigators

on the Melinda
LaPree case in 1982.

You remember this old paper?

Yes, I do.

It said, "Here's a female"

"who was a witness
that Melinda LaPree

"getting into a-to a
brown Pinto station wagon

"with an Alabama tag

the night of
September the 15th."

Right.

Investigators that were
working the case back then,

they start interviewing
some people that actually saw

what car she got into and
the-the driver behind the car.

They watched her get in,

and they seen him
come back without her.

Yeah.

Well, that's not a
whole lot to start with.

The driver behind the
car was a Black male.

There were other
prostitutes that saw her

get into a station wagon
with wood-grain panels

and an Alabama tag.

And that's what law
enforcement began looking for.

When I heard that
Mindy was missing,

I was really worried.

And then, you know,

one week became two weeks

and then three weeks

and more.

Here she is when she
was just a cute little girl.

She was a happy child.
Mindy would, you know,

wake up and be in
her crib in the morning,

and she would be singing.

Taught herself
to play the flute.

She played wonderful music,

both flute and piano and...

We had a piano in the house.

2:001:00 or 2:00 in the morning,

3:00 in the morning,
all of a sudden,

you hear Beethoven,

or it could be
"Stairway to Heaven."

She could play by ear.

She was really smart.

She could sleep
through class and get A's.

And she did.

It was an idyllic time, I think.

It's kind of
bittersweet to look at it.

Our father was
rather, emotionally cold

and often quite violent.

Yeah, he beat all of us,

and Melinda and I took,
I think, the brunt of it.

Mindy suffered pretty heavily.

We're talking some
serious beatings here.

Melinda started acting out

and-and-and being rebellious.

You know, she was
living kind of a raw lifestyle,

on-the-edge kind of living.

Sold drugs. Took
drugs, sold drugs.

And she sold herself
as a sex worker.

In August 1982,

Mindy called to say

she was having a baby.

And she was very...

Very upbeat and
very happy about it.

Mindy had her son, Will,

in August 1982.

And then she disappeared

just three weeks later.

Almost a month later,

a body is found

in a ditch in a cemetery

in our sister city,
Gautier, Mississippi.

When we found the body,

she was in a state
of decomposition.

She's already been
out in the elements

for almost a month.

She was discarded
like a bag of garbage.

The autopsy report, it
showed strangulation,

manual strangulation.

We knew it was a homicide.

I think I went into shock.

And I stayed that way
for, you know, weeks.

I mean, guilt,

anger, rage.

We were raised Catholic.

She had a Catholic burial.

I remember coming
out of the church,

lighting up a cigarette

taking a couple puffs off of it,

and putting it out in my hand

just to feel something.

It took me out.

There's no other
way to describe it.

Two months after
Melinda's murder,

it's November, and
we catch a break.

A car is stopped

two cities from
us for shoplifting.

It's a station wagon
with a wood-grain panel

and Alabama tag.

It's the same car that
Melinda was seen getting into.

And then we have our suspect,

and his name he
gives is Sam McDowell.

And, ultimately, we found
out that Sam McDowell

is actually Sam Little.

So the investigators
working the case,

they're interviewing Sam Little.

Sam is denying
everything. "I wasn't here."

"I don't know what
you're talking about.

I ain't killed nobody."

Just denial, denial, denial.

But investigators
found receipts in the car

that shows him at a hotel here.

So he says he wasn't here,

but we got motel
receipts says he was.

Melinda LaPree was killed

during the time
that he was here,

so, you know,
we're-we're building a case.

But, unfortunately,
because of Melinda's body

being out in the
elements for so long,

we didn't have any
evidence to support

that, Sam killed her.

We didn't have any evidence

of her in the car
that they-they found.

We're gonna have challenges

in trying to get the
evidence needed

to-to get this thing in court.

But I talked to the
D.A. about holding him,

but he said, "You
can't hold him.

You have nothing
to hold him on."

I said, "Well, maybe can
I hold him on vagrancy?"

He said, "No, I don't think so."

You were trying to do
whatever you could to keep him...

Everything I could
do to keep him here,

but like I said, all
this, what is in here

is all that we had.

Every chance
that we tried to use

did not hold water
according to the D.A.,

and, of course, he was right.

When they couldn't
get him on the murder,

what investigators
did is they were trying

to put something together

so they could get Sam
Little off of, off the streets

and be sure he didn't
kill anybody else.

And so that's when
investigators found out

there's two other prostitutes,

two other victims
that have survived

similar attacks in Pascagoula

on previous dates.

They fought back,

and-and they were able
to survive the attack

Leila McClain

and Hilda Nelson.

Hilda and Leila,

both these women
come to the station,

and they pick Sam
Little out of a lineup.

And they positively ID'd him

as strangling them
and trying to kill them.

These two women,

they were the strongest
case we had against Sam Little

at the time, even
though we suspected him

of killing Melinda LaPree.

But these were prostitutes.

You're gonna
have a difficult time

trying to get credibility
up with a jury.

They'd been arrested,
probably numerous times,

and, "How can you believe them?"

But we had to try.

I believe it was an
enormous act of courage

and faith

on the part of these women

who were Black prostitutes,

and they still came
to testify against him.

They walked for miles
to the courthouse,

and Hilda was pregnant

at the time.

When they walked
in and Hilda saw Sam,

she was so
frightened, she urinated.

Hilda talks about
being on the stand

and actually being
so upset and nervous.

And, I think that's where
things kind of went bad.

Something happened.

For some reason, we could
not even get an indictment

against Sam Little,

which means that there
were gonna be no charges.

Hilda and, Leila,

we failed them, in my opinion.

There was such a
miscarriage of justice

in the cases of Leila McClain

and Hilda Nelson

and also in the murder
of Melinda LaPree.

That's what really,
really eats at me.

Sam Little, he was in custody,

but they said that
they couldn't prosecute

because, the, the only witnesses

were

I remember them saying
"junkies and whores,"

but it was words to that effect,

because that's the sort of,

witness that, you
know, gets shredded

by defense attorneys
and that sort of thing.

You know, it really
angered me deeply.

I don't know.

I don't know if it
was because of,

her occupation.

I don't know if it was because
of the color of her skin.

I'd hate to think that,
because I don't think

we're that kind of
town or community.

I don't know. It's
just one of those...

It's kind of hard to
believe that, you know

that these things
actually happen.

I mean, really,

Leila McClain
summed it up to a T

when she said, "Ain't
nobody gonna believe"

"a Black prostitute in
Pascagoula, Mississippi,

in 1982."

And I can't say it
any better than that,

'cause it's exactly the truth.

I was pretty devastated
by that first conversation

with Sam Little in prison.

It's pretty nerve-racking.

It has a physical effect on you.

I was feeling pretty sick of him

and his lies.

I decided, "I'm gonna visit him"

"in prison again

because these victims'
stories are too important."

And I was determined to
get Sam to admit the truth.

I talked to Hilda, who
testified at your trial.

Did she?

Did she really lie?

I knew that he was lying.

I decided,

"If he lies to me again,

I'm done, I'm out."

I'm like, I'm not gonna sit there

and listen to him bullshit

about these crimes and
murders I know he committed.

You tell me the truth right now.

You did not hit Hilda?

Sam Little is a psychopath,

so every interaction he has

is transactional, right?

It means, like, "I'll
give you something,

you give me something."

And he started
trying to work me,

and, um, you know,
"I want this, I want that.

I want canteen
money. I want a TV."

And I said,

"I-I-I-I want things, too, Sam."

It was just this moment

where we were, like, frozen

and eyes locked,

and I know that he
knew that I was out

if he didn't start talking.

And he was like,

"Okay, you got me.

What do you want to know
for your book, little miss?"

Yeah, I want you to
tell me a little story.

It took me a minute to realize

he's confessing.

So you didn't mean to kill her?

"With that, he began to tell me

"about the women he had killed.

"With astonishing detail

"and near photographic recall,

"he took me back
through his past,

"when the road was his home

"and the back alleys
and underbelly bars

"in city after city
across the country

offered a feast of
low-hanging fruit."

When Sam first started
confessing to me,

then it was like the
floodgates opened,

and he told me
about another one,

and another one

another one

another one.

He told me about
13 murders that day.

Just to sit there a
foot from this person

who is talking about
this so dismissively,

I felt a rage

unlike anything I've ever felt.

I wasn't shocked because

I'm not shocked

that there's this, like

casual and vicious violence

against women.

I've seen it.

I know it.

I want to know why.

Why? Why, and how?

Once she started
visiting Sam in prison,

that really awoke a lot

of different kind
of demons in her.

There was just no way of telling

what the story was
gonna grow into

and-and the effect
it would have on us

and how immense

the power and
destruction of this man was

when we started.

I feel connected to
these women's stories.

I can imagine the last moments

of these women's lives

and that they were
dismissed and invisible

for all of these years.

And Samuel Little

was the only one
who held these stories.

And I was like, "You
are not entitled to this."

Like, "You don't
get to have this."

And there are many
more unidentified victims

out there.

We go to the sheriff office,

and he tells us,

"Well, you know, if-if
y'all want to find out

"who killed her so bad,

why don't y'all
just go find out?"

I don't feel

that she was important enough

to them to investigate.

It broke my heart.

My mother was taken
from us from an evil person

who shouldn't even be living.

After my sister was murdered,

it just started eating me alive.

I came very close

to taking my own life.

We have limited time.

Sam Little, he's an
old man. He's not well.

And when he dies,

many of these unsolved
cases will die with him.

I will never rest

until I can restore the names

of these victims.

How many women have you killed?

I want the truth.

I think that...