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It's Sunday evening, just three day until the next full moon, and there's a familiar tension spreading through the precinct. The Full Moon Killer, as the papers have dubbed him, is due to strike again soon and the Darrow PD is starting to feel the pressure from the media and the public to catch the man. Reid can't say he blames anyone, he wants to put this unsub away as badly as anyone else in the station, but it's been months. The man is patient, he will wait an entire moon cycle to target another family, which gives him the advantage because it means he's patient and beyond that, it allows him to prepare. Reid has determined that the hits on families aren't random, they're carefully designed, crafted from the structure of the families to the layout of the homes he invades.
He's also come to the conclusion that their unsub is probably sociable, even friendly, maybe works in a customer service-type position that allows him to see families day to day, allowing him his pick of the crop. The unsub doesn't make mistakes, doesn't leave any DNA behind, and it's really a remarkable thing that none of the wives they've arrested for killing their husbands in front of their children seem to remember anything. For the most part, the only thing they seem to be able to manage to coherently agree on is that the unsub is a slim, white male, early to mid thirties with brown hair and a sinister smile. The kids, too, when interviewed, all mentioned the way the man had smiled once he'd had the families gathered in their living rooms. The women had all claimed that no, of course they didn't want to kill their husbands, nothing was premeditated, everything was fine at home, and they'd been compelled. The unsub hasn't yet pulled a trigger himself.
Reid isn't sure what to make of it all. It's his job to put the pieces together, of course, and he's done what he can with what limited information he has. There's a sense of hunger for power and control, he suspects the families are surrogates for experiences he'd had throughout his own childhood. The only problem is, records at the Darrow PD don't go past five years, and nobody seems to be willing to explain why.
It hits a little too close to home. His own family doesn't fit within the father-mother-son dynamic, Reid knows that, but it doesn't make this any less frightening or disturbing. He watches these kids, suddenly fatherless and facing orphanhood if their mothers are convicted, get carted away to the Home and logically, Reid knows they're safer that way; and yet, he thinks of how lonely Jack had been there, how glad he'd been to get out, and it both fuels his rage and breaks his heart to think of what this unsub is doing. His biggest hope right now is that the unsub will slip this time. This time, because it can't be next time, Reid can't let another family die because he hasn't been able to figure this out yet.
He stays later than usual this evening, already having texted Luke not to wait up, and stifles a yawn as he heads toward the break room to fix himself a cup of coffee.
He's also come to the conclusion that their unsub is probably sociable, even friendly, maybe works in a customer service-type position that allows him to see families day to day, allowing him his pick of the crop. The unsub doesn't make mistakes, doesn't leave any DNA behind, and it's really a remarkable thing that none of the wives they've arrested for killing their husbands in front of their children seem to remember anything. For the most part, the only thing they seem to be able to manage to coherently agree on is that the unsub is a slim, white male, early to mid thirties with brown hair and a sinister smile. The kids, too, when interviewed, all mentioned the way the man had smiled once he'd had the families gathered in their living rooms. The women had all claimed that no, of course they didn't want to kill their husbands, nothing was premeditated, everything was fine at home, and they'd been compelled. The unsub hasn't yet pulled a trigger himself.
Reid isn't sure what to make of it all. It's his job to put the pieces together, of course, and he's done what he can with what limited information he has. There's a sense of hunger for power and control, he suspects the families are surrogates for experiences he'd had throughout his own childhood. The only problem is, records at the Darrow PD don't go past five years, and nobody seems to be willing to explain why.
It hits a little too close to home. His own family doesn't fit within the father-mother-son dynamic, Reid knows that, but it doesn't make this any less frightening or disturbing. He watches these kids, suddenly fatherless and facing orphanhood if their mothers are convicted, get carted away to the Home and logically, Reid knows they're safer that way; and yet, he thinks of how lonely Jack had been there, how glad he'd been to get out, and it both fuels his rage and breaks his heart to think of what this unsub is doing. His biggest hope right now is that the unsub will slip this time. This time, because it can't be next time, Reid can't let another family die because he hasn't been able to figure this out yet.
He stays later than usual this evening, already having texted Luke not to wait up, and stifles a yawn as he heads toward the break room to fix himself a cup of coffee.
