Too Close

 Too Close VIDEO

HE NEVER STOPPED Episodes 4 · 5 · 6

"The Comment"

"Did anyone see episode 2?"

"And they didn't like it."

"They deleted it in ten minutes."

"But I was faster."

JAKE'S VOICE. TENSIONER THAN BEFORE.

Before we start, I need to tell you something.

I was about not to publish this episode.

Not because of fear.

Well. Yes, because of fear.

But I'm publishing it because Sarah can't do it.

"Stop or you'll be number thirteen."

User: account created on the same day as episode 2.

No profile picture. No history. No other comments.

Created just to write that. And disappear.

Jake leaves the screenshot on the table.

I reported it to YouTube.

I reported it to the Dayton police.

Do you know what they told me?

"Anonymous comments do not constitute a verifiable threat."

The same words they used in Sarah's case.

"It does not constitute."

Pause. Jake looks at the camera.

Okay.

Let's continue.

Map. New point added.

After episode 3, I received messages from three people.

Three different people. Three different cities.

All said the same thing.

They knew someone who matched Kevin's description.

Night shift job. Labrador dog. Moved between 2014 and 2019.

Three people.

I'm not going to say it's the same man.

But I'm not going to ignore it either.

Jake opens his laptop. Shows an address on screen. Pixelated.

One of those people sent me an address.

Current.

Where they think Kevin lives now.

I spent two days deciding whether to go.

In the end, I went.

Dramatic pause. Jake drinks water.

I parked one block away.

I stayed in the car.

Two hours.

Nothing.

Then I started the engine to leave.

And at that moment a man walked out the front door.

With a dog.

Yellow labrador.

Blurry photo taken from inside a car. A man. A dog.

I couldn't see his face.

He walked fast.

But before turning the corner he stopped.

He turned around.

Looked toward my car.

I don't know if he saw me.

I don't know if it was Kevin.

What I do know is that I didn't sleep that night.

"That same night I checked my building's security cameras. Someone had been standing in front of my door for four minutes. At 2 a.m. Without entering. Without knocking. Just standing. I'll show you the recording in episode 5."

"2AM" Security camera recording. Hallway. Figure standing. Timestamp: 02:14 AM.

"This was recorded four days ago."

"In front of my door."

"At 2 a.m."

"He didn't knock."

"He just waited."

I want you to watch this carefully.

Recording playing. Slow. Figure standing. Four minutes. Leaves.

Face not visible.

Dark hoodie. Hands in pockets.

Approximate height: 1.80 meters (five feet eleven inches).

Medium build.

Exactly as Sarah's neighbors described a man they saw near her building the week before she disappeared.

Jake pulls out a piece of paper.

I went to the police with this recording.

Same answer as always.

"There is no evidence of criminal activity."

Standing in front of a door at 2 a.m. isn't a crime.

I know.

But it's not normal either.

Jake points to the timestamp.

02:14 AM.

Do you know what happened at 02:14 AM on Tuesday, March 13, 2014?

The night before Sarah disappeared.

Pause.

Sarah sent a message to a friend.

"I think someone's outside. Probably nothing."

The friend didn't respond until morning.

Sarah didn't reply anymore.

Silence. Ten seconds.

Probably nothing.

Jake looks at the recording again.

I installed new cameras that week.

Four angles. Outside and inside.

And I changed the lock.

I told my neighbor what was happening.

She asked me if she should be worried.

I told her no.

Jake looks at the camera.

I lied to her.

New screenshot of a received message. Unknown number.

Two days after installing the cameras I received this message.

Blocked number.

A single sentence.

"The new cameras are nice."

Jake puts the phone on the table.

Which means he was back.

And he saw the cameras.

And he wanted me to know he saw them.

Very long pause.

That kind of behavior has a name in forensic psychology.

It's called signal harassment.

The aggressor doesn't attack yet.

First they want the victim to know they're there.

They want fear before anything else.

Jake breathes.

Well.

Yes. I'm scared.

I say it here. In front of you.

I'm scared.

And I'm going to keep publishing.

"In episode 6 I tell you what I found when I searched Kevin's complete history. Four states. Six jobs in eleven years. And something I didn't expect to find. A report. Archived. From a woman who met him in 2016. Who survived."

"She Survived"

The longest episode so far. The most important one.

"This week I talked to someone."

"I'm not going to show their face."

"I'm not going to say their name."

"I'm just going to call her Jane."

"Jane met Kevin in 2016."

"Jane is alive."

"And she has something to say."

JANE

Empty chair. Distorted voiceover. Simulating an interview.

Jake off-screen: — When did you meet him?

Jane: — In September 2016. At a bar near my work. He was kind. Normal. That's what I remember most. How normal he seemed.

Jake: — How long did you date?

Jane: — Three weeks. We met four times.

Jake: — When did something change?

Jane: — The fourth time. He offered to drive me home. I accepted. In the car something felt different. I can't explain it. Like suddenly he wasn't the same person.

Jake: — What happened?

Jane: — I was scared. Very scared. When we got to my street I got out before he fully stopped. I ran. I didn't look back.

Jake: — Did you file a report?

Jane: — Yes. Two days later. They said that without evidence of a crime they couldn't do anything. That it had been a misunderstanding.

Silence.

Jake: — Do you know where he is now?

Jane: — No. And that's what keeps me awake at night.

THE HISTORY

Jake in front of the camera. Documents on the table.

After talking to Jane, I searched more.

Four states in eleven years.

Ohio. Indiana. Kentucky. Tennessee.

Six different jobs.

Always logistics. Always night shift.

Always leaves before anything can be traced.

Table with dates and cities. Parallel to the victims' list.

Look at this.

Every time Kevin moved to a new city...

Within the next three months a woman disappeared in that city.

Not once.

Not twice.

Eleven times in a row.

Jake points to the table.

The statistical probability that this is a coincidence...

I'm not going to give you a number.

You calculate it.

Jake pulls out the photo of the figure in the hallway.

After talking to Jane, I did something else.

I sent her the hallway recording.

I asked her if she recognized anything.

The height. The way of walking. The posture.

Jane took two days to respond.

When she did, she wrote three words:

"It's him."

Jake puts down the phone.

Looks at the camera. Long. No music. No drama.

Twelve women disappeared.

One who survived.

A man who knows I'm looking for him.

And who was in front of my door at 2 a.m.

Pause.

If anything happens to me...

Everything I have is stored in three different places.

Three trusted people have it.

With instructions to publish everything if I stop answering the phone.

Jake looks at the camera one last time.

Sarah. If somehow this reaches you wherever you are...

I didn't stop.

I'm not going to stop.

"Next week I have something I never expected to have. Someone who worked with Kevin between 2017 and 2019 contacted me after episode 3. They say they saw something. Something they reported to their supervisor. Something their supervisor ignored. We're meeting on Thursday. If I publish episode 7, it's because the meeting went well.