With the help of Jill Campbel, a mitigation specialist working on Fincher’s case, Julien acquires logs from the Hadley brother’s murder investigation and picks up a mysterious trail left by Detective Solomon Smith. He soon realizes he's up against more than he bargained for.
The Manowa Caves is intended for mature audiences. It contains strong language and depictions of bullying, violence, and sexual assault that some may find disturbing. Listener discretion is advised. Also, this is an extremely immersive experience and headphones are recommended. You're listening to The Manawat Caves, a production of iHeartRadio, Blumhouse Television and Psycopia Pictures. Fuck fuck, I just I just woke up to the sound of my own screams. The lights are still on, and I must have fallen asleep put them on. I remember laying down to go to sleep, and Manna. A figure appeared in the corner of my room, bearded and where oil soaked coveralls, blackened and rotten, and a tattered red scarf around his neck. The scarf, it was familiar, but I couldn't place it. This figure, part man, part shadow. This gray man just stood there watching me. His body was stooped, his face was too long, job stretched in pain, like he was stranded in permanent anguish. I was paralyzed in my bed while the gray man came closer and closer, not walking, just somehow closer crashed h I'll get seconds three thirty three am. I just listened to my last entry, my last recording about an um a nightmare. I UM. I have no memory of it, not of the nightmare or or or they're they're gray man. I don't remember recording the entry, none of it. M I tried to stay away, but it found me. It's been pulling me back. I give her since and I know in my core that it's not gonna stop until I see James Fincher set free. I have trouble remembering that time in our lives, but I remember that day we found him six times. But if you want to find out who was behind this, he should find out what Smith knew follow his tracks. August second, twenty twenty one. The fog. I hoped it would clear, but it's only gotten thicker the longer I stay here. Every minute I remain in Maniwa County, In every minute, James Fincher's execution draws nearer, the thinker the fall gets. I needed to go away for good this time. I need to set things right. But the only way to do that is to find out who or what really killed the Hadley brothers. Now, I'm not a homicide detective or even an investigative journalist. But I know this town, I know these people. Detective Solomon Smith didn't, but he believed James Fincher was innocent. He came on board the Hadley Brothers murder investigation for a time, at least before Ye disappeared. If I can trace his steps, maybe I can back up the trail, finish what he started. Detective Smith, he was the only one in the whole Lord deal that seemed among justice, the only one who knew somehow, he knew that James Fincher didn't kill those kids. So now there's no one left to fight for James except you and his sister Dina, and the attorney. And now you looks like I met up with Jill again. Jill Campbell. At the time of the Hadley Brothers murder investigation, she was one of Sheriff Hooper's deputies. Now she's a mitigation specialist on the Fincher defense appeals letters. Any tools she can use to mitigate and reduce his sentence to anything, anything less than death. What do you think Detective Smith knew? From a homicide detective's point of view, there's no way he would have crossed Fincher off of his suspect list unless he knew he was innocent. And the only way he could have known that is either Fincher had an alibi or he uncovered who the killer really was. He was on to something, though, that's for sure soon so maybe he had proof, but he was reluctant to come forward, not solemn. From what I understand about the man, the idea that he was ever reluctant is unlikely. Either way, he vanished before he could say anything even if he wanted to. I'm beside who in the Sheriff's department would have listened anyway? They already caught their killer, James Fincher. Okay, Argust third, three thirty four am. Just that day, Um, an interesting thing happened. I couldn't sleep because this mortel ricks and mothballs and mold, plus the sec fan won't shut the fuck up. Jill gave me a stack of court documents and recordings that she had obtained from Finch's trial. So I left my motel a few hours ago, decided to take a little drive up into the mountains while listening to them angel evidence discovered at the scene of the crime. Remember these red wolf fibers there was no other identifiable DNA found at the crime scene other than the DNA from Thomas and Deacon Hadley. I turned on Mathison Road. It's a road I grew up on above Spalding Gorge to Windon Mountain Road that goes by my old house, what's left of it anyway. Fibers imbedded in Thomas's fingernails and as I drove, the fog sit in. I also noticed some headlights in my rear view. Didn't think much of it, trying to focus on the recordings from the trial, and the static was taken over again again, so I had to crank the volume. I had to lean into the car speaker in order to hear the voices. The tape the only one year with an oct imagination. It was as if they were trying to crawl out from the vault They've been locked in for over a decade. James finer and as I drove, the fog got thick, fast, still thick. I was squinting to see twenty feet ahead just to see the winding road. I had to slow way down, and before long the headlights were rite on my ass. I couldn't make out the car, but when I looked back at the world. The gray man. Jesus, the fog was so thick I didn't see them until I almost hit them, the gray man standing there in the middle of the fucking road when I rounded the bed right, God damn. It turns out the car behind me was a Sheriff's deputy evening officer. Thanks for stopping. There was a there was a figure just standing, And so the prodigal son returns, excuse me, way, Tamper, Dowey, Tamper, Julian Right, you're a you're a long man now, Huh that a bear cane and floorboard? What I say, is that a bear cane and a floorboard? No, that was earlier. Duey, I just ran off the road. And how much you had to drink tonight? Are you serious? You know? Six six to radio? What I gotta coach? Seven? How many? Did you just step out of the car? What I almost just died? Are you are you like? Are you like messing with me? Or some account of the car walk to the back of the automobile. Jesus, Well, I gotta make sure you're like to operate this veible. What you're doing back here? Anyway? I thought we run you out of time for good. Oh, don't worry. I'm just visiting who my mother's grave. How the hell is that fucking relevance? You making me walk a line? Duly? Well? Hell, I'm just making conversation, is all. Who was you so nervous for what I'm not? Look, I just ran off the fucking road for Christ's sakes. Man, You ain't been smoking under that wacky weed, have you? What? No? I know you and Tyler Wilson used to light up back in the day, and you didn't know if I put a sniffing dog and you car what am I gona fine? Legal drugs? May hope you don't got no concealed weapons on you anything like that? You sure? Oh you know where I forgot about the nunshockers? You want to pat me down? D O? You'd like that, wouldn't. You don't get smart with me, solace, Just turn and face me. But you fake together with your hands down by your side, Yes, sir, all right, follow the tip of my finger with your eyes without moving your head. Do you understand? Ye? Did I pass? I guess you knowld You look at better than you used to. Kid. You're done? See, I thought you were may be in town for the big show to see your old buddy James Fincher get the jab. I know you too, are thick as thieves in those days. It's gonna be quiet the spectator sport. How long are you following me? What's that you've been telling me for a while? How long you've been following me? Look, we were never that social back in the day, but because we do go back a long ways, I'm give you a bit of advice between you and me, I wouldn't go digging around stirring up trouble if I was you. It's passed if you just let things play out the way they're supposed to the way they're supposed to. Enjoy your visit. August third, one, twenty pm. The smell of this damn mountain there, the mind flashes back. Then there are some good memories, but mostly the town feels haunted. I can feel the aches of old grudges in my limbs, no matter how much I've tried to repress them. All the old feelings to live there in my gut like snakes, rage, sorrow. I'm trying to remain calm, objective, and partial. I'm trying to assume a moral ambiguity here, even as I recall the lowest, most unforgivable types of people that still inhabit this town. Anyway, I'm supposed to meet Joe Campbell for lunch, but I'm late. I overslept. Doesn't feel like I'm going to sleep at all, though I finally passed out around seven this morning. Listening to the police interrogation tapes. You know, my goddamn day. I just need you to state at Griff, something about Griff Washington's interviews bugging me, Edward Washington, There wasn't so hard. We appreciate your cooperation. We just need your help right now. We need all the intel we can get. Fine, But it don't seem like you're asking for my That dog of yours, he was pretty messed up, Griff. There's a lot of blood. He's a meaning sile bit sheriff. But he's a good dog. He had to sedate him. That's probably for the best. I have caging, and I don't want him to getting fights and hurt animals or people or anything. When's the last time he got into a fight. Hell, I don't know. He got loose, He got loose, and then he just came back all torn up. Yeah. Hell, that dog's face looks like ground beef. Like. I don't know what to tell you, Kirby. Those kids broke the law and not me. They were trespassing on my goddamn property, all right, my property. Now, what happened to them is a real tragedy, and I feel for their mom and daddy. If that ain't no excuse to go violating my right, how exactly are your right to being violated? I'm being held against my will? No, No, you're not. Did I or anybody else read you your rights that we tell you that you were under arrest? Are you saying I'm afraid to go? Griff? We have two boys found dead on your property. Now, all I ever asked for was your help. But you kept a dog that you knew to be vicious. That's on you. There are regulations in this county for keeping dangerous dogs, and from the looks of it, you failed to follow them. That makes you liable. You understand it turns out that your dog was involved in the death of these boys. Well that is manslaughter. Am I free to go? Yes or no? Sheriff Hooper, let Crift go easy? Yes? Too easy? But seemed to me he should have been their prime suspect to get my fucking dog back. Griff Washington was later convicted of several felonies for running a dogfighting operation, animal cruelty, and operating a kennel without a license, though the Corps wentn't easy on him there too. He got slap with the fine. But that was about it. And here's the problem. Some of the dogs DNA was near the scene of the Hadley brothers bodies. There was also a piece of evidence that was never accounted for, red wolf fibers found under Thomas Hadley's fingernails, indicating a violent struggle. Maybe Griff Washington's dog had a red collar on or something, but if it did, the red collar was never found. So where did the red wolf come from? What happened? If the shareful phil Griff go? It seemed clear to me and others that we needed a medical examiner to do an autopsy because a corner had no medical experience. Corners are elected officials and a man of wat They're not even required to have medical training. Yet he was the only one that could order an autopsy. Pretty politically convenient, ain't now? Anyway? They looked like stamp wounds to me. What the actual fuck? Yeah, well, I told Cooper he was investigating the wrong goddamn species. We didn't need animal control, we needed a homicide detective. But even then, Hooper didn't want the Tennessee Bureau of Investigation involved, so he didn't invite them. And why not he was up for reelection. It was a perception thing TBI involved UC would make Hooper look weak, like he wasn't capable of handling local affairs. He needed to be the hero. That's ironic. Takes more than just experience and qualification to be the sheriff. You also have to have the backing of the right people, the powers that be. What do you mean you can't get elected sheriff to Maniwa County without the endorsement of the first Baptist Church. Delivering on a case like this was only sure fireaway Hooper could guarantee his reelection, and between you and me, Reverend Perkins had already made up his mind on who the killer was. Faith is not the absent of fear. No, our faith thrives in spite of fear. We like God's candle despite the darkness. I know, I know, fear and doubt creep in because there's more to it, isn't there? And it's hard to not assume the worst. That the devil has been living amongst us all this time. Well, I have news for you. He has. He has been living among us, and he is still here. Sheriff Hooper was in attendance that day, and I can only imagine that as the congregation of the First Baptist Church clung to the Reverence Guide in words, Hooper was plotting this next move even though I walked through the valley of the Shadow of Death, I will fear no evil. Did you get that the Lord is my shepherd? David wrote these words because he himself was once a shepherd, and David understood that we are also sheep, and like sheep, we two need a shepherd. Even though Sheriff Hooper had refused to call into the TBI, there was one man he thought could help a shepherd. If you will to think like a killer to catch a killer, I looked up Detective Solomon Swallow. Put yourself in their shoes. He was something of a celebrity detective, and he was featured in an interview on a true I'm show called shadowy death's drive to paint the accused as a monster, something not human. But do monsters exist? Of course, monsters exist. Without monsters, there are no victims, no prosecutions, no defenses, no justice. They have to be monsters, because without them we only have ourselves to blame for our suffering. Smith was a long man from Atlanta. He landed in the national spotlight back in nineteen ninety five when Jennifer Fowler, a nineteen year old college student, was found naked and dead in a public park near the Atlanta's Zoo, just a few months before the ninety six in Earlands were said to begin. There. The world was watching closely, and the pressure was on to keep the face of the New South blemish free. It certainly couldn't be seen as a gang infested crime zone played by racial disparities, suburban decay, and neglected parks where nineteen year old white girls could be found raped, murdered and dumped with no explanation, no recourse, and no justice, No fucking way. Chapter two. This is from the true crime novel Murder in the Park by Douglas Burger. Jennifer Fowler had been in the city for less than a month, she was found faced down in the Red Clay a few blocks from the Zone three police precinct. The buzz at the APD was that they needed to be out in front of this. They needed a clear and direct display of strength, efficiency, and intelligence. Entered Detective Solomon Smith. He was specifically good at understanding how a killer thinks and deriving motive from the evidence, and his predictions about a killer's neck move were spot on. He knew that in cases like Jennifer Fowler's, the perpetrator would often revisit the scene of the crime, perhaps trying to relive the moment, the passion, the excitement, perhaps taking pleasure in the power trip of standing close enough that he could watch the cops scratch their heads. Solomon also knew that murder is an intimate act. If you think about it, it's probably one of the most intense human experiences that can be shared by two people, and not just in the instant of the actual killing. The relationship that develops between a killer and a victim is complex. Just think of the proximity, the extremity of the circumstances that the victim and the killer navigate together. Think of the negotiations the expectations and disappointments, the lies, deceptions, manipulations, the power plays, and the pleas. Not to mention the physicality of murder itself. The energy and effort required, especially in strangulation, would apparently take a tremendous amount of strength at commitment. Smith was right. Jennifer Fowler's killer did come back to the scene of the crime. Detective Smith was already thinking like the killer. He took his time surveying the crowd, the onlookers, especially the men, especially the ones who were alone, especially the one across the street, sitting in his green Volkswagen for an hour watching the post mortem indicated that Jennifer had died at approximately four forty eight am, and because there was indication of a struggle, the body hadn't been moved. Smith awoke at three am with an idea. He had a newborn at home and a regular sleep was impossible, so before dawn he would drive to Grant Park and from four thirty to five thirty he'd sit parked three blocks from the spot where Jennifer's body was found. He did this for six weeks, every morning, sitting with his thernis of coffee, a beau Jangle's chicken biscuit and the Atlantic Constitution waiting. It was near enough to the zoo you could hear the lions roar as the sky grew lighter, and soon enough there it was, that green seventy six Volkswagon. The driver could have been innocent, a resident of the neighborhood, But then he stepped out of his car and walked hesitantly to the exact spot where Jennifer was found. He just stood there, staring at the ground. Solomon ran the plates. The owner of the car was Richard Rydell. He was a maintenance man at Jennifer's college. It took time to get a warrant to search Rydell's car. He played by the rules, and because he built a bulletproof case, the prosecution got an easy conviction and Ridell got the death penalty. Mister Rydell, can you tell us why what made you want to take Jennifer Fowler's life that day? A won't I answer all your questions? Go on? I just had to. In other circumstances, Solomon and Jennifer Fowler's grandfather, William Fowler, would have been unlikely. Friends. Have you reached the desk of Detective Solomon Smith. I will return your call at my earliest convenience. If this is an emergency, dial nine one one. What Adiam Fowler here? I wanted to let you know that I sent a package I enjoyed. I talk about meat smoking, and I said you some apple wood chips from my property for you to experiment with it. Now. This particular wood is over a century old. It's from a tree that got struck by lightning. Happened right around Jenny was taken. Big storm came through. Jenny used to call that a devil's prank, like when two events running parallel, Like like when you wake up with a song in your in your head and then you hear it on the radio or you or you think of somebody hadn't thought of it in a long while, and then they call maybe a coincidence. But I'm comforted by the idea that Lord works in mysterious ways. I'm digression, I guess anyway, Detective, Please let me know if you hear anything about when the execution date is set for. I tried to call the day's Alvius down there, but nobody seems to be able to answer. All right, dear take care of Detective. Perhaps Grandpa Fowler felt in debted Solomon Smith, who had given him the only semblance of closure he would ever have. Following the violent murder of his precious granddaughter, Solomon hunted Jennifer Fowler's killer, caught him, and attended Ridell's execution three years later. He would receive a card from Fowler every year after that, not on Jennifer's birthday or even on the anniversary of her death, but to commemorate the anniversary of Richard Rydell's execution, as if that was the event that some bolically solidified and consecrated their relationship. And after Ridal's execution, the two men never spoke again in person. So it was quite a shock when Solomon received a letter from the attorney of Fowler's of State explaining that mister Fowler had died and left his house and property in Manowa County entirely to him. It was dilapidated, sagging roof, busted pipes, chipped in whether it's side, and the Christmas Tree farm had been abandoned, and the trees had grown to thirty feet tall in perfect rows. In two thousand and seven, the house wasn't worth the dirt it was built on. At the time, Manoel County had a population of only sixteen thousand, mostly white, poor, and Christian. Solomon was a black Metropolitan cop who had lost his faith in God. Despite this, Solomon quit the Atlanta Police Department, sold his home, and moved to this isolated farmhouse in Maniwa County, leaving behind his career, his church, his friends, and his wife. He took with him the only meigroup possessions he could shove into his gmc acadia, a few changes of close fishing gear and a shotgun. But Atlanta, Georgia or Manowa County, Tennessee, Solomon had his own set of personal demons he couldn't escape. They stuck with him, haunted him. He needed to set things right in order to be freed from them, and he did that by coming on board to solve to have the Boys case. Manowa County had experienced occasional homicides like once every couple of years, usually drug related myth Most of my calls were land disputes, domestic violence, bar brawl, stupid ship. The Hadley murders were in a category all their own own. So how does Soloma Smith get involved? Now I was actually the one who suggested it. I knew Solomon had moved to town, and well, Hooper was out of his league, and he knew it. So we approached him. Approached him. He didn't have a landline or nothing, so we just drove out there, knocked on his door and ask him. He said no at first. How did you get him to agree? Well, we played him the audio retrieved from Deacon Hadley's cell phone. It's hard to make out, but you can clearly hear Deacon talking to someone right before he gets murdered, talking to someone, yes, pleading for his life. It was pretty gruesome. Thomas Charms Armers just somewhere, hell, help me, help me? Oh man, why are you just standing there? How could you do it? Wait? Wait wait, wait wait wait, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, please, I'm pleasing, please, I'm never, I'm never. Just let me go and just slipping. So I decided to drive out here to the old fowl of State. The county record showed the Solomon Smith as the last owner of record. It's been empty since two thousand and seven. The yard is overgrown with high grass and brush. Some of the windows they are busted. Looks like they're still furniture in there, doors boarded up. No trespassing violators will be prosecuted. Danger there's properties condemned. In two thousand and seven, Detective Solomon Smith was deputized, and he and Sheriff Kirby, who performed an unlikely partnership. They were like complimentary opposites. One was an insider and one was an outsider. One was out of his league and the other one was out of his element. And Manoua County needed Solomon every bit as much as Solomon needed Maniwa County. But it was no coincidence that he ended up here. Devil's Pranks something William Fowler's granddaughter Jennifer talked about before her life was taken. I guess the Devil's prank is like a passive acknowledgement from the universe that everything is connected, that it's all meant to be. Or maybe it's just God's way of calling our attention to the little things like That's cute, but I don't think so. I don't think Solomon was simply in the right place at the right time. No. I think maybe he was summoned and on the some level deep down in his psyche. He knew I had to know inheriting Fowler's land moving to Manowa County. That's too neat to be a coincident. Well, look who it is, Duly tappered again. Maybe you didn't say the sign no trashpasser, my bad, Dully, yup, I just saw the signs there on the porch. Don't worry, I'm leaving m say, Duly, I'm curious. What do you think this property is worth. I don't believe it for sale. That's a shame. It could be a great fixer upper. Oh and I'm heading back to my motel now, in case you wanted to know, I thought i'd save you the trouble following me there. God damn smart ass. Solomon Smith. I'd never seen people around here treated black man with so much respect. He was kind of a celebrity cop, and he caught the man who killed Jennifer. Jennifer Fowler, you knew her. We were in grade school together. I knew Richard too. Richard Rydell, What do you mean? Well, he was a janitor, worked at Carter Riddell worked at Carter High. Yeah, you didn't know that Richard Rydell was from Manawak County. He was from Here, a Ghost in the Mire and the Hounds of Hell Dancing in Dancing the Manowat Caves stars Jonathan Tucker as Juliet Salis, Eddie Gathegy as James Fincher, Clark Peters as Detective Solomon Smith, Nick Sercy as Sheriff Kirby Hooper, Justin Wellborn as Tyler Wilson, Jill Jane Clements as Jill Campbell, Brad Carter as Dooley Apart, Scott Poythress as Reverend Perkins, Samantha Ashley as Dena Fincher, Justin Matthews Smith as Paul Salis, Tara Oakes as Laura Salis, Jonathan Horn as Deacon Hadley, Alden Kronovitch as Thomas Hadley, Mike w Anderson as Griff Washington, Bodie Walter Roth as Jimmy Fincher, Brian McClure as Ian Spinks, Larry Clark as Bobby Hadley, Peyton Fallis as ed le Blanc, Vic Polisis as William Fowler, Nick Dakosky as Richard Rydell, and Aileen moy as The Darkness, with additional performances by Clint McGown, Dina Dill, Edward Howard, Henry Foster Brown, Jamie Joseph, Juan Monsalvez, Christopher Curry, Bailey Hyneman, David Mitchell, and Bernard Satara Clark. Created by Connell Byrne and Dan Bush. Written by Dan Push, Zoe Cooper and Nicholas Dakoski, featuring our theme song Killer Inside, written produced and performed by Lea Lynn. Our executive producers are Matt Frederick, Alexander Williams, Michael Monty, and Courtney Dufrees. Our executive producers at Blumhouse Television are Jeremy Gold, Chris Dickey, and Noah Feinberg. Produced by Dan Bush, music by Ben Lovett, Additional music by Alexander Rodriguez. This episode features the song Darlin Corey, performed by Helena Rose. Edited by Dan Bush, Chris Childs, Stephen Perez and David Chen. Sound design by Benjamin Malcolm. Additional sound designed by Alexander Rodriguez. Dialogue editing and sound mixing by wand Campus. Recorded at Studio Awesome in Los Angeles, SoundBite Studio in Atlanta, and Echo Mountain in Asheville. Casting by Sunday Bowling. Kennedy and Meg Warner. Our dialect coach is Linda Thessist Assistant director, Michael Monte second assistant director, script supervisor and production coordinator. Sarah Klein supervising ser Josh Thing Special thanks to Mary Ellen and Jason Davis, Jonathan Deeter, and Joe Rickman. Manoa Caves is a production of iHeart Radio, Blumhouse Television, and Psycopia Pictures.