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The following are diary entries released to the public by the New Jersey State Police. Trauma Trigger Warning: The content here may be disturbing for some.

December 6, 2018

Oh the weather outside is frightful… I’m freezing my ass off. I’m tired and it’s cold and I’m tired of smelling pine. All the food I packed is gonna run out at some point. I give it a couple weeks but maybe less. It seems like I get hungrier as the days go by. Feel like my stomach’s eating itself alive. 

My dad told me to turn myself in and I probably should’ve listened to him. What the HELL am I even doing out here?…

It’s weird being alone this long. I haven’t seen another face up close in five days now (since this past Saturday). Don’t even know what I’m running from. I’m not that smart and the POLICE are gonna close in on me and catch me once I run out of food and have to leave these goddamn pine barrens.

December 7, 2018

Hard to write when you feel like you’ll lose your damn fingers. Had to wait to warm em up by the fire and then put my gloves on. But anyways it was another cold and lonely day in the NJ pine barrens. I slept a little better last night. I’ve stopped worrying that I’m gonna wake up seeing flashlights and blue lights and hearing barking dogs and cops going “Hands up! Out of the tent!” In fact I’d probably welcome it at this point. Either that or hightail it. I’m not too sure. Depends on how ballsy I’m feelin.

It’s much colder at night, so I figured out how to not get out of my sleeping bag when I need to piss. I have a well-marked (and believe me I mean WELL-marked) piss bottle that I just stick my dong into when I wake up feelin like a firehose. It’s convenient. Nothings worse than crawling outta your tent in the dead of the 20-fucking-degrees night to watch steam roll rise up off your piss stream.

I’m on the move during the day and sometimes I get these heart murmurs and I gotta stop. My breathing gets all shallow. I don’t know if it’s a panic attack? Never had em before but I wouldn’t be surprised if I’m gettin em now. 

The loneliness is super weird at this point. It’s now been almost a full week since I’ve seen a human face, not to mention that the last human faces I saw had a lotta fear and anger and probably contempt.

December 8, 2018

Debbie. My dad always told me she was trouble. I never listened. Holy SHIT he was right!!

I shoulda dumped her right then and there after that first time. Right after the first time she slept with another guy. I shoulda cut it off clean and found someone better. But no ones better than Debbie, that’s what I told myself. She was gorgeous that’s for sure. Long legs. Short blonde hair that was totally evened out at the bottom. She was perfect.

I remember the first time I knew something was up. She was in bed texting on her phone at 11 pm. I mean shit what else could that be about? And when I walked in and asked who she was texting, she shouted “no one!”

I got it out of her though. It was our spin class instructor. God that guy was a douchebag too. His name was Jimmy and she’d been texting him at all hours of the night. Buncha flirty stuff but nothin too crazy. No pics or dirty talkin. Buncha “you’re so funny” and “oh I love the Beatles too!” kinda stuff. 

But I swear, they fucked. 

They fucked like rabbits. That douchebag Jimmy, in tiptop shape and probably an animal in the sack… He probably broke her in half like I never could. She’d tell me they never did anything or even SAID anything but I sear swear those two got it on. 

But I gave her the benefit of the doubt and we put it behind us after I told Jimmy to go fuck himself. He acted like a bitch around me from there on out. Little weaselly pricks tend to do that. 

Debbie and I had a good couple of months after that. That whole Jimmy situation was in August. October was when things started gettin fishy again. 

I wanna keep writing this stuff but I can barely keep my eyes open. If I don’t get arrested or freeze to death or eaten by the Jersey devil then I’ll continue this train of thought.

December 9, 2018

Fever dream: I’m standing on an infinite frozen lake. A bunch of people I know—my father, Debbie, my brothers—they’re all frozen in the ice under my feet. 

I’m not a superstitious guy but I can’t help but feel that this whole thing with Debbie was fate. Shit fate. The writing was on the wall from the beginning, and I didn’t listen. Too late now. I shoulda gotten out when I had the chance.

I’m about to write down what happened, and I’m gonna be real precise with my words. I want the truth to be there when and if (probably WHEN) they arrest me and put me on trial. Maybe after reading this testimony and then hearing it from my own lips, the judge might not throw the book at me.

Debbie and I started going to this bar back in October. There was this bartender there named Mitch. He was a cool guy. He was there a couple of times when we were out drinking, and sometimes he’d give us a free round of drinks. I was like “Wow, what a nice guy.” I didn’t think anything of it. God, how fuckin stupid can you get?? Of COURSE he was hitting on my girl.

Well one night this past November, Debbie and I got into a fight. This was a bad one, real nasty with cutting remarks and whatnot. And she told me that she had been seeing Mitch, the bartender. She’d been over to that bar for lunch a couple of times, hit it off with him, gone out with him several times while I was at work. 

I threw a fit and, after punching a nice hole in the wall, packed some clothes and left. I spent the rest of the week at a friend’s house. 

I should’ve just been done with Debbie right there, but I kept blowing up her phone. It’d go from apologies for losing my temper, to asking if we could talk, to flipping out and long profane paragraphs, where I’d swear up and down at her for not answering the phone. The saddest part was that not once did she text back. I was having a profane conversation with MYSELF. Goddamn if that’s not the saddest thing in the world, I don’t know what the fuck is. 

Well my friend, Morgan (the one I was staying with), convinced me to go grab my shit out of the apartment and dump her. I agreed (though I would’ve been back two weeks later to profess my love and tell her how I wasn’t going to give up on us) and I headed over there that night.

I went in and she was in bed, OUR bed, with him. I saw red. I wanted to fucking kill him. 

But I didn’t. Not then, at least.

I had a handgun on me. I WANTED to fucking shoot the guy, but I did NOT at first.

Mitch and I started arguing. He got out of MY bed, still in his underwear, and started threatening me, telling me I needed to leave. Now, keep in mind, this is MY apartment. I wasn’t going anywhere. 

Well, Mitch didn’t like this. Next thing I know, he grabs a knife outta the kitchen block and threatens me with it. I pull out my handgun, point it at him, and I tell him to get the fuck out of my place. 

But Mitch apparently wasn’t the sharpest tool in the box, ‘cause he came at me with the knife. I fired off a shot. BANG! Went through his shoulder (I think) and he sorta closed the gap between us. He stuck me with the knife somewheres in my arm. Shit hurt like a sonofabitch. I shot him again. This time it went through his midsection.

Now we’re wrestling over the gun. And that’s when Debbie got involved…

I fired off another shot, and this one went right through Mitch’s face. Next thing I know, Mitch went limp and Debbie fell to the floor. It’s all a blur now but I remember she had a bullet wound in her throat.

I called 911 and then hightailed it outta there. I know I shouldn’t have done that but I was terrified. So if a judge is reading this, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I fled the apartment, I’m sorry I got stitched up at my friend’s house and not a hospital, and I’m sorry I fled the next morning when I saw my name labeled as “armed and dangerous” on the news. 

The news said Debbie was actually alive. She was in the hospital and the doctors had saved her. I cried tears of joy when I saw it. After all of it, I still loved her. Even though I also hated her. If that makes any kinda sense…

My dad called. He said, “Son, they’ve got you on the news.” I’m like, “Yeah, I know, dad.” And he said, “You need to turn yourself in. We’ll figure this out.” Got off the phone with him, and I knew he was right.

But I was scared. I was so scared of the outcome of the trial, so scared of the possibility of doing time in prison. So I fled.

I KNOW I’ve made it worse for myself, now. It was a snap judgement and, again, if a judge is reading this, I am SORRY. But now I’m deep in these goddamn woods and I don’t know if I’d even be able to find my way out if I tried. 

December 10, 2018

Fever’s gone. I feel better. I’ve been boiling snow to conserve my water supply. I remember playing in the snow as a kid. Now I’m boiling it and drinking it to survive. If that doesn’t tell you how times can change…

I woke up to some weird noises last night. Cackling, kinda like the sounds of tropical birds at the zoo. I know we have sandhill cranes in NJ, but do they stick around here in the dead of winter? I don’t know… I’m no expert, just some damn construction worker and soon-to-be prison inmate.

December 12, 2018

Tent’s gone. I think some hermits might have stolen it while I was off fishing. My fault for leaving it, I guess. Fuck me for wanting to eat fresh fish tonight. 

Now I sleep in my sleeping bag with snow packed around me to conserve some type of warmth. But I’m freezing my ass off at night. It’s hard to stay asleep and even harder to go into a deep sleep. I’m constantly in this state of half sleep. 

On the bright side, I don’t have any more weird dreams…

December 13, 2018

It’s really late and I don’t know if I’ll be able to sleep. So instead, I write. I’m also laying inside an abandoned cabin right now…

I was walking through the forest, trudging through the knee-high snow, and it started sleeting. Sleet is the fucking worst. It’ll get you soaked before you know it. I don’t have my tent and I really started wishing HELL on the fuckers that stole it, even though they need it just as much as I do. 

I was soaked and freezing and I had slush all in my shoes and on my ankles. My ankles hurt like a bitch, all blistered and frozen, even though I got on wool socks.

I trudged on through the woods, I went up this hill, and I saw something through the trees. Big dark shadow looming over the woods. I went toward it and it’s this big cabin. Two floors. Real rundown and old. It must be hundreds of years old, it looks like some house from the 1700s, like the witch’s cabin from Hansel and Gretel. 

Needless I was spooked. But I was also soaked and freezing cold and on the verge of losing my damn face to the fridged wind. I went inside. 

It was pitch dark. I shined my flashlight into the place. First room was the living area. There was trash and pieces of wood everywhere, brick fireplace at the back, mantel above it. I could imagine a black cauldron hanging over the fire where people used to make stew, or something. 

I explored the rest of the place, even though I was tired. I wasn’t gonna feel safe until I checked out the whole cabin. I wanted to make sure no one else was here. Last thing I need now are more hermits mugging me and taking my shit. 

The stairs were real creaky and I felt like my foot would go through one at any second. I explored the upstairs. On the left, when you first go up, there’s a bedroom that was definitely a nursery. There’s old pieces of a crib on the ground and little rag dolls on the floor, mangled and worn beyond recognition. 

When you exit that bedroom and keep going down the hall, there’s a painting on the wall, old 18th century thing I think, kinda worn but still recognizable. It’s a painting of a family of three. Mom, dad, and a little boy. The dad’s face is worn away, looks like somebody (maybe the mom) scratched it out. Maybe she went through something similar to me.

The rest of the upstairs is just this empty shell of splintery wood and debris and whatnot. No one was here so I felt a LITTLE safer, I guess. 

When I went back downstairs, I took a wrong turn (it’s super dark in here) and ended up at the end of this long dark hallway. The hallway is made of solid brick, and it’s maybe 50 feet long. At the end of the hall is this big wooden door. 

Now, it’s probably a wine cellar, or something. But I got this eerie feeling when I stood there, and I didn’t wanna be there any longer. So I turned the other way and went back into the living area. 

I’m hunkered down in the living room, now, and even though it’s creepy in here, it’s warmer at least. And dry. I doubt I’ll sleep all that well tonight, but maybe I’ll get used to the place by tomorrow or the day after, and then I’ll be able to have a deep sleep. That would be great, right about now…

December 17th, 2018

This cabin turned out to be more than I thought.

Handwriting sucks, I know. Hopefully someone transcribes this if it has found its way into your hands.

I was hunkered down a couple nights ago, curled up in my sleeping bag on the floor of this cabin. The night was real quiet, save for some whistling wind here and there. The quiet night made it real easy to hear anything outside. And I did hear something…

First thing I heard were barking dogs. At first I’m like, “Fuck are those wolves?” It was a bunch of rapid barking so I knew there were multiple dogs/wolves. I peak peeked outside and sure enough I saw multiple dogs… on leashes. Three of em. Behind each dog was someone with a flashlight. 

Next thing I heard outta one of their mouths is “Let’s check that cabin.”

So I was like shit, gotta hide. Either hide or run. Then, I remembered the dark hallway. I wondered if there was a place to go beyond that door. Worth a shot. The rest of the cabin was barren, nowhere to hide behind or to crawl into.

I grabbed my sleeping bag and my backpack (didn’t want them to see it and know someone was there) and I went to the back of the cabin. I came to the long, dark corridor and shined my light. Saw the wooden door at the end. 

The dogs’ barking was getting closer so I just went for it. I went through the hall and grabbed the cold metal knob on the wood door. I opened it and almost busted my ass.

There was this long flight of stairs leading downward, and I almost fell down em. I left the door open a crack so it wouldn’t make a noise (I was sure those guys were in the cabin now), and I descended the stairs.

The stairs were stone, which seemed out of place in some schmuck’s cabin in the woods. There were probably 20 stairs total. I got to the bottom and was in the cellar. 

The cellar was pretty open, except for this small corridor that wound around the staircase, snaking behind it. It was musty and pitch dark, and there was steady dripping noise from melted snow seeping through the ceiling. 

I hunkered down and listened to the sounds of dog paws scratching the floor above me. Footsteps too. I could hear murmuring but I couldn’t make out what the dudes were saying.

Minutes passed and I started to hear more footsteps. But these ones didn’t come from the floor above. 

These footsteps and shuffles came from right down there in the cellar I was hiding in. I froze and shut off my flashlight. Pitch black.

My only useful sense left was my hearing. I listened close and I was POSITIVE I heard footsteps from just around the corner, behind the staircase. I crouched in the corner, shaking like a scared dog, and the footsteps shuffled and dragged real slow across the concrete floor.

Then they made their way around the staircase. I took out my handgun and cocked it, and the footsteps halted.

“Leave, or I’ll fucking shoot,” I said.

No response. 

“I’m dead serious,” I warned, “leave now, or I’ll fuckin shoot you.”

More silence. 

The footsteps continued. They got closer, and I was about ready to fire off a shot…

But then, they started up the stairs. I could tell by the distinct sound each foot made when it hit the stone step. They went all the way up, and I heard the door open and close. 

About half a minute—maybe less—passed. And I heard some muffled shouting from the people upstairs. Then I heard shots go off. The dogs were going nuts.

Then, everything just went silent. The silence was so intense that my ears rang like a thousand alarm bells. 

There was a footstep, upstairs. Another, and another. And I knew the feet—whoever they belonged to—were heading back toward the cellar door. 

I got up and went for the stairs. I went all the way up the stairs, to the door. I aimed my gun, and I waited. 

A couple LONG minutes went by. I held my gun tight. My hand shook. I tried to steady it. No dice. But once the door opened, I figured it’d be pointblank range.

The footsteps were coming back down the hall, now. I tightened my grip on the handgun, both hands. I bit my tongue so hard it bled. 

Whoever was behind that door was close, now. I coulda shot through the door, but I was more comfortable with a direct shot. 

The door opened. I emptied the clip; just a barrage of gunshots going off and blinding muzzle flares. I didn’t even see who or what I shot at. 

Click, click, click. Shells bounced off the stone steps. Clip was empty.

Whoever I just shot the hell out of still stood right there in front of me. Before I could reload, it knocked me over and I rolled down the steps, all the way to the bottom. 

I dropped my gun and had no idea where it was. The wind was knocked out of me. I started crawling across the floor and over to the wall. I shined my flashlight at the steps.

The thing I shot at was on its way down. The footsteps were slow, but steady. It stepped into the light.

At first, it looked like a man. It was about average height and it wore a black suit.

The rest of it did not look like a man, least not a regular one. The head looked like a burn victim, charred and reddened skin. The teeth were rotted and jagged. It wore a Mr. Hyde-style top-hat on its head. And those eyes… beady and yellow in the glow of my flashlight. 

The thing stood there for a good while. I sat there, back to the wall, shining my light on it and making empty threats.

“Don’t come near me, man! I’ll fucking kill you!”

The second I shouted at it, the thing dropped to all fours and crawled toward me in a really janky way, like a crippled dog or something. I was helpless and just started screamin and shouting and begging.

The thing crawled right up to me, placed its claw on my stomach, and looked deep into my eyes as it pushed.

I screamed and the thing let out a high-pitched shriek of its own. 

All I remember happening next was it sort of “melting” into my stomach. I think it went through my bellybutton. I conked out and woke up this morning, back in the living room.

Now, I know what you’re thinking. All a dream, right?

That’s what I thought, too. Until I saw all them dead cops and their dead dogs. 

I freaked out, ran out to the woods, threw up. My puke was like black tar. I didn’t wanna go back into that cabin, but I had to, had to get my stuff. I decided I’d chance it in the cold. Better than staying in that damn place. Not one more night, not on my life.

December 18th, 2018

Not feeling quite myself, anymore. All I can think is kill, kill, kill. Kill, kill, kill. 

I’ve been hearing this voice ever since that thing crawled inside me. I know it’s that thing, 100 percent. 

It’s what they call the Jersey Devil. 

I’m losing control. I don’t know the difference between my thoughts and its thoughts. 

But I’ll tell you what I do know. 

I know the job’s not finished. I know Debbie’s probably still in the hospital. Blythe Forest Medical Center. I know that thanks to the news. 

And I know she’ll be getting a visitor, tonight.