there was one tiny clue that didn t fit at all. the inscription said, love always, cori and ryan. so they wanted to find out who s ryan? who s cori? said that s like looking for a needle in a haystack. the trail would lead hundreds of miles away to a chilling piece of evidence. that must ve been a shocker to have it cross your desk? pretty much sends a chill down your spine. i killed someone. he was older. i loved it. pretty scary. a sinister story, but not even it revealed the whole, twisted truth. i know what happened. no one will believe me. it s like, is this really happening? i didn t think i could feel so much anger. reporter: it was late, past midnight, when the farmhouse loomed up in their headlights. no sign of life. not to them, anyway. he hit the brakes. this was the place. they grabbed their weapons, headed for the house. a window unlocked. pay dirt. the prairie takes on a sweet, rolling pitch as it tucks into a nebraska corner an hour so
didn t fit at all. the inscription said, love always, cori and ryan. so they wanted to find out who s ryan? who s cori? said that s like looking for a needle in a haystack. the trail would lead hundreds of miles away to a chilling piece of evidence. that must ve been a shocker to have it cross your desk? pretty much sends a chill down your spine. i killed someone. he was older. i loved it. pretty scary. a sinister story, but not even it revealed the whole, i know what happened. no one will believe me. it s like, is this really happening? i didn t think i could feel midnight, when the farmhouse loomed up in their headlights. no sign of life. not to them, anyway. he hit the brakes. this was the place. they grabbed their weapons, headed for the house. a window unlocked. pay dirt. the prairie takes on a sweet, rolling pitch as it tucks into a nebraska corner an hour south of omaha. here the rich black soil has grown solid and faithful american. a tiny remn
no sign of life. not to them, anyway. he hit the brakes. this was the place. they grabbed their weapons, headed for the house. a window unlocked. pay dirt. the prairie takes on a sweet, rolling pitch as it tucks into a nebraska corner an hour south of omaha. here the rich black soil has grown solid and faithful american. a tiny remnant who have planted themselves in and around a place called murdock, the sort of place where heads turn when a stranger drives by. and a family s name is carved on it was easter sunday, 2006. a big farm yard and like every year, an easter egg hunt. grandma and papa s yard. reporter: or mom and dad to tami who brought her own son, like always. they found their easter eggs. they found their easter baskets. mom always made every individual easter basket special to that child. reporter: they were like generous, steady, always there for their children. the eldest steve and daughter tami, the youngest andy. they were loving parents. i don t t
but this case wasn t closed. there was one tiny clue that didn t fit at all. the inscription said, love always, cori and ryan. who s ryan? who s cori? said that s like looking for a needle in a haystack. the trail would lead hundreds of miles away to a chilling piece of evidence. that must ve been a shocker to have it cross your desk? pretty much sends a chill down your spine. i killed someone. he was older. i loved it. pretty scary. a sinister story, but not even it revealed the whole, twisted truth. i know what happened. no one will believe me. it s like, is this really happening? i didn t think i could feel so much anger. reporter: it was late, past midnight, when the farmhouse loomed up in their headlights. no sign of life. not to them, anyway. he hit the brakes. this was the place. they grabbed their weapons, headed for the house. a window unlocked. pay dirt. the prairie takes on a sweet, rolling pitch as it tucks into a nebraska corner an h