I don't exactly remember when my love for crime documentaries started. Maybe it was in between writing my first mystery thriller, Winchester's Secrets, or maybe it was during the Covid period when I was cooped up at home with nothing else to watch.

Either way, I found myself wanting to know more about how criminals committed those horrible acts. What drove them to it, why did they choose that particular method, when did they prefer to act, I was obsessed with everything. So much so that I started telling my brothers about the best ways to kill people, and never be caught.

However, my siblings drew back in shock and fear. I remember my youngest brother ranting to my mom that if anything happened to him, they should come for me.

The thrill was, and still is, exciting to me. I don't think it's something I can pull away from, not when I've discovered special TV shows dedicated to these crimes. I've even gone ahead to read some of the worst serial killer novels, and somehow, I still want more. Recently, I discovered some graduate programs that go deep into forensics and criminal psychology, and let me tell it, it is beautiful.

Someday, I would love to venture into that career and see what happens. Maybe that's where my lost sense of adventure is. In the meantime, let me go back to one of Dean Koontz's classics.