Virginia Beach has always been a city caught between worlds. Since the English colonists first landed at Cape Henry in April of sixteen oh seven, this stretch of Atlantic coastline has been a witness to history, rivals, departures, wars, and reinvention. By the late nineteenth century, the city was marketed as a seaside escape. A single hotel linked by railroad to Norfolk, transformed the quiet stretch of shoreline into a bustling resort.
But Virginia Beach was never just about tourism. Over the decades, it grew into a sprawling community, a place where vacationers mingled with longtime residents, and where military families arrived in steady waves carried by the shifting tides of deployment orders. By nineteen ninety one, Virginia Beach was home to one of the largest naval air stations on the East Coast. Military housing dotted the city like small, self contained villages,
each with its own heartbeat. Rows of near identical homes, front yards with bicycles left on the grass, and the constant hum of aircraft overhead defined these neighborhoods. They were places where children formed fast friendship, and parents leaned on each other when deployments pulled one spoue far from home. One such community was Wandsworth Homes, perched near the quaint waters of Birdneck Lake. The lake itself was unremarkable on a map, but for the families who lived nearby, it
was a familiar backdrop. Kids fished for bass on hot summer afternoons, skipping stones across the still waters, while the smell of barbecues drifted from backyards. Birdneck Lake felt safe, ordinary, a place where children could roam without their parents worrying too much. But safety is sometimes only an illusion. On a humid March evening in nineteen ninety one, that illusion shattered to young boys from Wandsworth Homes didn't make it home for dinner. Nine year old Daniel Geyer was born
in Anniston to Gary and Valerie Geyer. He was part of a large and lively family with three daughters and another son. The Gyers had moved to Virginia Beach three years earlier, when Gary's posting with the Navy brought them to Burneck Lake. Like many military families, they knew the rhythm of constant change new cities new schools, new friends. It was a lifestyle that required resilience, especially from children, but it also came with a ready made support network.
In military housing, neighbors often become standing family. A nine year old Daniel thrived in that environment. Neighbors recalled him as a bride outgoing boy, always quick to smile. He was constantly in motion, peddling his bicycle through the complex, stopping to chat, or joining in a pickup game with friends. His presence was one of those constants you barely noticed until it wasn't there. One friend, Kenneth Lester, remembered Don was a real good little kid. He was always happy.
You could tell he had a real nice family. He was always happy, and he always had a smile on his face. He was just a real good kid. Wherever Daniel went, another boy was usually close behind. Seven year old Ashley Christopher Weaver, known to everybody as Scott, lived just a few doors down. His nickname had come from his birthplace, Scotland, though Virginia Beage was the only home he really remembered. Like Daniel, Scott was part of a Navy family. He was the eldest of five children born
to Robert and Tomorrow. Weaver. His mother Tomorrow was serving as an electrician's mate aboard a navy's ship in the Persian Gulf at the time. His father was holding downe the Ford at home with the children, but he too was in the military. Scott missed his mother deeply when she was deployed, but he wrote to her faithfully, filling his letters with updates from home. Reverend D. R. Statton, who knew the family, described him simply. He loved people,
he loved to explore. Seldom was he still together. Daniel and Scott made the most of their freedom. The military housing complex was their playground, and bird Neck Lake was the backdrop for their adventures. They fished, rode bikes, and explored the wooded areas of the neighborhood. For boys their age, it was the kind of childhood that felt both bondless and secure. But one evening in nineteen ninety one would prove that even in place is built on structure and community,
tragedy can arrive quietly without warning. It was the fourth of March nineteen ninety one for nine year old Daniel Geyer and seven year old Scott Weaver the dead. They began like any other Monday, they spent the morning at school, and once release, did what they loved most, racing through the neighborhood on their bicycles side by side. By late afternoon, around four thirty p m. The boys were seen pedaling
up and down the familiar straits of Wandsworth homes. Their parents gave them the same rule every evening, be home when the sun goes down. But as daylight began to fade and the sky shifted from pale orange to gray, Daniel and Scott still hadn't returned home. At first, Daniel's mother, Valerie,
wasn't alarmed. Children in Birdneck Lake often lingered a little too long at play, But once darkness settled in and there was still no sign of her son on A's crept in, Valerie stepped outside, calling her son's name into the dim streets. Somewhere near by, another voice echoed into the night. It was Scott's grandmother searching for him as well. Valery hurried over, explaining that Daniel hadn't come home either.
The grandmother's response was heavy with worry. I hope to God they didn't go where they went last week over to the lake. Birdneck Lake wasn't far. The children had been warned not to play there. It was too deep, too unpredictable, a place of hidden dangers. But warnings don't always stick in young adventurous minds. Valery and her husband Gary grabbed their flashlights and headed over to the lake. They swept their beams across the water's edge, calling out
the boys' names. The beams caught on nothing but trees and murky water. The silence that followed was crushing. By seven thirty PM, with the boys still missing, police were called. The search began almost immediately, and words spread through Virginia Beach with urgency. Neighbors poured from their homes, and soon more than sixty p people, including police officers, firefighters, Navy personnel,
and volunteers were coming through the neighborhood. They searched house to house, straight to straight, and pressed further outward towards the dark woods and the waters of Birdneck Lake. The lake, which was really just a flooded borrow pit, sat just south of the Navy amphibious space, encircled by thick woods and dotted with smaller bodies of water. It was treacherous, tern still, the searchers pressed forward as they neared the water line, something called the bam of a flashlight just
beneath the surface. It was a small bicycle, its wheale bent at a strange angle. It was carefully pulled from the lake. It belonged to Scott, hoped that the boys had simply wandered off began to shrink. Searchers turned their focus deeper into the woods and around the swampy edges of the lake. Divers entered the water despite the hazards. Submerged trees, debris, and jagged construction material made every step uncertain,
and in those depths anything could remain hidden. Around thirty to forty yards away, another discovery surfaced, Daniel's bicycle, half submerged in swamp water, its frame caked in mud. By eleven PM, the dangers of night diving forced police to suspend the water search. The darkness was far too consuming and the risk was too great. But on land the hunt continued. Volunteers with flashlights swept through the woods in lines,
calling out the boys' names into the night air. At three forty five am, searchers briefly stopped to regroup before pressing on again. Karen Lincoln, a dispatcher for Virginia Beach Police, Fire and Rescue recalled how the k strew people farm wide. They've had people volunteering from all over the state with tracking dogs to out in help. Through the night, the search pressed forward, every passing r weighed with dread. The next morning the search resumed. By now the effort had
swelled to nearly two hundred people. Volunteers came from all across Virginia Beage and beyond, Shaken by the disappearance of two young boys in a community where children were supposed to fail. Safe searchers spread out across the woodland surrounding Birdneck Lake, about one hundred yards ace of General Booth Boulevard. A group moved slowly through thick undergrowth. On one side was a residential street, on the other a public camp ground.
One searcher, James McKinsey, was watching the ground as he picked his way over branches and fallen leaves. Then something in the distance caught his eye, a shape, too small, too out of place among the angled brush. He stepped closer, heart pounding as he neared, he froze. A tiny hand was sticking out from beneath a pile of leaves and branches. Blonde hair glinted faintly beneath the debris. James staggered back in horror before calling the police over. The area was
quickly sailed off. Officers saw what James had seen, a crude pile of tree limbs, branches, and forest DeBras. Many of the branches bore fresh cup marks, as though they had been deliberately sawn down with a knife to create this makeshift cover. One by one, the atoms were carefully removed beneath them, Lying side by side with the bodies of Daniel Gear and Scott Weaver. Both boys were fully clothed, but their clothes were saturated in blood. Their throats had
been slacked. The search was finally over as the boys remains were prepared for transport to the medical Examiner's office. The unimaginable task of notifying their families fell to Navy personnel. None of the parents had slept through the night they'd waited by the phone. Joined the searches clung to the hope that the boys were hiding somewhere safe. Gary and Valerie Gear were standing outside when the officers approached. The moment Valerie realized what they were there to say her
body crumpled. She sobbed, No, it can't be. They've got to be okay. A short distance away, Robert Weaver was told of his son's death. Scott's mother, Tomorrow, was serving aboard the USS Yellowstone in the Persian Gulf. Word was sent to her immediately. She was flown back home at once, a military mother summoned back to face the most devastating news imaginable. Over the medical Examiner's office, the fathers were asked to do what no parent should ever be asked
to do. They had to identify their son's bodies. Afterwards, Gary slammed his fists against the canopy of a pickup truck and shouted, get that, son of a bitch. Autopsies then revealed the brutality of the attack. Both boys had bled to death. Seven year old Scott suffered three stab wounds delivered in rapid succession. The injuries would have incapacitated him quickly, but the killer didn't stop. Scott's throat was
slashed over and over until he was nearly decapitated. Nan year old Daniel had been struck with such force that his neck was broken before his throat was slashed. He too had been slashed multiple times. The autopsies also brought an unexpected revelation. Despite initial fears that the boys might have been killed by a sexual predator, there was no sign of sexual assault. This wasn't a crime of sexual gratification. It was something else, something fueled by raw violence and rage.
And now in Virginia Beach, the search for two missing boys transformed into a hunt for their killer. The woodland where Daniel and Scott had been found was sealed off, crime scene tape fluttering in the wind as detectives and forensics teams combed the ground inch by inch. News of the murders spread like wildfire through Virginia Beach. Parents who had tuck their children into bed the night before now faced an unbearable truth. A child killer was in their mids.
It's the sense of safety that military housing and close knit neighborhoods once offered had vanished overnight. Be At Stea, who lived nearby, captured the raw fear that gripped parents everywhere when she said, this is every mother's worst nightmare. For children in the community, the shock was just as profound. The woods where the boys' bodies were found wasn't just any patch of land. It was their playground. Generations of kids had built forts there, hammered to gather, treehouse, and
carved skateboard ramps into the clearings. It was a place where imagination ran free, but that innocence was now gone. One boy told reporters were scared. We used to play in those woods all the time, but not anymore. Adults too,
had long been uneasy about the area. Some had warned that the woods were no longer safe for children, pointing to signs of trouble that had cropped up regularly discarded beer bottles scattered across the floor, evidence of late night parties, and what neighbors described as rough looking kids emerging from the tree line. Others claimed they had seen youths carrying crow bars and tire irons. There's all kinds of stuff that goes on in those woods, recalled James McKinsey, the
searcher who had made the grim discovery. He then added, the children play in there, but you can tell from what's in there that there's other things that go on too. A local mother who didn't want to be named, put it more bluntly. There's beer cans and wine bottles all over that woods. You can look around and see where they have had parties in there, and police knew that these weren't just harmless gatherings. The summer before, children reported being chased through the trees by a man who was
holding a knife. Around the same time, a grocery store clerk was robbed, dragged into the woods, and then raped. Lieutenant Denis Free of the Virginia Beach Police admitted grimly, I'll guarantee you there'll be people living there during the summer. For detectives, the picture was complex. The woods were a place of play but also of menace, a shadowy space where predators could hide in play in sight. Detectives were
cautious in their early statements. They couldn't yet say whether Daniel and Scott had been killed by somebody they knew or by a stranger, but they were certain of one thing. The boys had been murdered where their bodies were found. Moving two children such a distance through thick brush would have been nearly impossible without leaving clear signs behind. A special tip line was set up, and within days hundreds of calls flooded in, but each lead ended in frustration.
Nothing yet pointed clearly to the killer. Detectives began retracing the boy's final steps, piecing together a timeline. Rose Campbell, who worked at the seven eleven near Wandsworth Homes, recalled seeing Daniel around five point thirty that evening. He'd come in to buy candy and play video games, but he wasn't with Scott. He was with another boy, she said, but she was certain it wasn't his best friend. Another neighbor, Bennett, said she too had spotted the boys around the same time,
between five pm and five thirty pm. She saw them near the edge of the woods, but they weren't alone with them with a teenage boy. At the local schools, the tragedy of Scott and Daniel was all anybody could talk about, But at First Colonial High School, one student seemed to know more than he should. Sixteen year old Sean Novak lived in Wandsworth Homes with his parents. Neighbors knew him well. He often mowed their lawns for extra cash,
including the waivers. His family was deeply religious and regulars at church. On the surface, Jean looked like any other teenager in the neighborhood, but in the days after the murders. He began boasting to classmates that he had discovered the boy's bodies. That claim was false, James mackenzie had found them, but Novak consisted he was the one. He said he had seen their throats slashed, even touched their bloodied bodies. These were details that hadn't been released to the public.
For those who knew him, this wasn't entirely out of character. Joan Novac had always seemed strange, prone to shocking others with bizarre behavior. One classmate explained, sometimes it was like he was trying to stick out, like he wanted to do anything that looked weird, and weird he was. John had a habit of flaunting macab trophies. He carried a sack of animal boons, wore dead bird's head strung around his neck, and once waved around the severed leg of
a cat to discuss his classmates. When they stopped reacting, he escalated. He bragged about killing a dog next. It was always something bigger, just to freak you. One friend recalled. Neighbors had noticed his oddities as well. Melita Canover remembered simply he was kind of strange. He carried weird things. Sean also talked to himself, or rather to objects. He could be seen muttering to tennis balls, golf balls, and
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code more Bidology ten. Find out why nutrifal is the best selling hair growth supplement brand at nutrifall dot com spelled nut r a f O l dot com promo code morbidology ten. That's nutrafall dot Com promo code Morbidology ten. In Shawn's mind, the dense woodland near bird Neck Lake wasn't just a neighborhood playground, it was his kingdom. He created a role for the younger children who followed him, calling them his Kendors, named after a mischiefous, fearless race
of creatures from the game. Local teenager John Cleepoor explained, Sean had like this little group of Candors, and the little kids would be in it. They'd run around just goofing off. Daniel was in that group. It was pretty much normal everyday life, but he gave a name to it and made it more interesting. Despite his eccentracies, not everybody viewed Sean in a negative light. Some neighbors said
that he was harmless, even kind. He was known to babysit younger children and often spoke about wanting kids of his own one day. Others described him as shy, a quiet loner, more focused on passing grades than causing trouble his classmates Thereing the Hindman put it simply, he was basically a loner at school. He was always trying to keep his grades up and make sure he passes. To some Sean Novak was just an awkward teenager with strange habits to others, he was unsettling. Sean Novak didn't just
make up stories for his classmates. He also told his friend Donald Williamson's mother that he had seen Scott and Daniel around five pm on the day they disappeared, that he was the last person to see them alive. Alarmed, she immediately called police. That afternoon, a detective found Novak's mother, Jenny, at work. He explained that he was canvassing the neighborhood for clues and asked if he could speak with her son.
Jenny wanted to be present, and she rushed home from work, but by the time she arrived, the detective had already been and spoken briefly with Sean. Later that evening, detective Sean Hoffman arrived at the Novak home and asked Jenny if he could question Sean privately. He reassured her that Sean wasn't a suspect, just a possible witness. Jenny agreed, and soon she and her some were on their way to the police station. For two hours, detectives questioned Sean.
He denied knowing anything about the murders, but stuck to his claim that he had been present when the bodies were discovered. Investigators knew that this was false. James had made it clear that he and his wife were the only ones there. Suspicion sharpened even further when a witness confirmed that the teenager last seeing with Scott and Daniel was none other than Sean Novak. The next day, detectives asked Sean to return. This time, detective Hoffman asked Janny
to step outside the interrogation room. Left alone with Sean, he shifted tactics. He told the teenager falsely that investigators had found his fingerprints on one of the victim's clothing and that a police officer had seen him in the woods before the bodies were discovered. Then he pressed harder, suggesting that maybe Sean had stumbled upon the boys first, maybe even try to cover them with branches. Sean admitted he had. Hoffman pushed further, maybe something had happened in
the woods, maybe by accident. Sean hesitated and then nodded. Did you kill them? Hoffman asked. Sean nodded again. Yes. After Sean Novak admitted to the murderers, detectives read him his miranda rights. What followed was strange, unsettling, and chilling. Novak began talking about Kender, the mischievous creatures from dungeons and dragons, but his description was distorted. He said that they were four inch tall green beings that killed others
by planting parasitic worms in their paths. He laughed as he spoke about them. Woments later, he broke into sobs and began describing what happened that day. It had started like any other. Novak went to school, then hurried home, grabbed his buck knife, bought cigarettes at seven eleven, and headed into the woods, where he often spent hours throwing his knife at trees. On his way, he bumped into Scott and Daniel. He already knew Daniel, his younger brother's
best friend. Scott, however, he'd never met The boys asked him to show them a new ford in the woods, and he agreed. As they walked, Daniel kept asking to see his knife. Near the fort, they began playfully wrestling, and Sean said he grew concerned somebody might get hurt with the blade. He said, he took it from his belt and set it up against a tree mooment Slater. Daniel picked it up I freaked out. Sean told detectives he didn't elaborate on what triggered his panic or exactly
how the events unfolded. He only admitted that he killed both boys, then cut branches and piled them over the bodies to conceal them. When police searched the Novak home afterward, they found in his bedroom a knife, a book on serial killers, and newspaper clippings about violent crimes in the area. The day that Sean Novak was formally charged with capital murder, the courtroom and the community felt the sense of shock, horror,
and for some relief. Almost immediately, prosecutors requested that he be tried as an adult, a decision that would profoundly shape the trajectory of the case. Prosecutor Robert Humphrey addressed the medias, starting, it may well be that we will seek the death penalty. It may well be that we won't, but I think it's premature at this point to make that decision. Word of the arrests spread quickly throughout the
Wandsworth Home neighborhood. Families who had spent long, sleepless nights searching for answers, felt the cautious relief twelve year old Michael Swagger, a friend of the victims, put the feeling into words, I feel better that they called someone. My dad said, whoever could kill those kids must believe in the devil. On the eleventh of March, Novak appeared in court for the first time. His parents sat beside him,
his mother clutching his cuffed hands tightly. The judge then ordered that he beheld without bond, and a psychological examination was mandated to determine whether he was competent to stand trial. The results confirmed that Novak was fully able to understand the proceedings and assist in his defense. By the end of March, the stakes had been set. Novak would face the death penalty if convicted. Humphrey addressed reporters, starting, my interest is in getting the kid a fair trial. I'm
not all that concerned about what the public news. We have a distinct possibility of putting a sixteen year old kid in the electric chair. I don't want it sent back on appeal. Novak's defense team, however, pushed back. They appealed the decision to try him as an adult, arguing that the juvenile court system would better provide counseling and protections appropriate for a youthful defendant. That appeal was denied, and Judge Jerome Friedman ruled that the case would remain
in adult court. Without ruling, Novak's attorneys requested in another psychiatric examination, signaling their plan to mount an insanity defense. The prosecution, who were anticipating this strategy, also arranged for psychiatric evaluation. Humphreys explained the rationale plainly and said, since that's the case, we're now entitled to have him evaluated by our psychologists and psychiatrists. Nearly a year after the murders, on the fifth of March nineteen ninety two, the trial
of Sean Novak began. He was escorted into the court room and seated beside his defensed him, his expression unreadable. During opening statements, Novak's attorney, Richard Bridges, led out the defense's strategy. It was unusual, unsettling, and immediately drew attention. He said, some person with whom he was possessed, whom he didn't know, erupted and caused him to commit this violent act. Jean Novac didn't kill those boys. Somebody, something
inside of him did. Before the trial, Sean Novac had undergone a five day evaluation by doctor C. R. Showalter, hired by the defense, sho Walter had diagnosed him with the FOURM of schizophrenia. According to the doctor, Novak had experienced a dissociative episode during the murders. He felt as if it was him watching himself from above, detached from his own body, as he carried out the murders. Defense Bridges argued that the schizophrenia had emerged approximately six months
before the killings. He emphasized that moments before the murders, Novak had even set aside his knife during play with the boys to avoid an accidental injury. The prosecution countered with equal force they had enlisted two other psychiatrists, both of whom found no evidence of mental illness. Prosecutor Humphrey stated Sean Novak butchered Daniel Gere and Scott Weaver in the coldest cold blood. The trial focused less on the murders themselves and more on Novak's state of mind at
the time. Bennett Stayed, the mother of one of Novak's friends, was among the first to testify. She described how Sean had spent nights at her house until June of nineteen ninety, when his behavior became more concerning. She recalled an incident where he threw a tantrum after being denied permission to watch a movie about Charles Manson. When asked why he was so upset, he told he idolized Manson. She also testified about seeing Novak with Scott and Daniel on the
evening of the fourth of March nineteen ninety one. She'd even offered them a ride home, which they declined. Daniel mentioned he needed to swing by the nearby woods to grab his bicycle. Perhaps the most damning evidence of all was Novak's own confession, which was play to the jury in its entirety. Even though the defense conceded that Novak had committed the murders, they continued to argue that his confession had been coerced. The defense opened their case with
doctor Robert Showalter to the stand. He testified he did not, as Sean Novak, understand what he was doing. The driving force was the Kender character. He went on to explain that the Kender sometimes fused with Novak taking control in moments of stress or obsession. According to the doctor, nova Vax immersion in fantasy wasn't typical adolescence, play, his writings, drawings, and the ars he spent alone in the woods revealed
somebody deeply entrenched in a private world of imagination. He testified he was unusually preoccupied with fantasy to the point of being mentally ill. This form of schizophrenia occurs in only about three percent of the population. Only a small fraction of those ever turned violent. He then described the events of March fourth, nineteen ninety one, in the woodland, as Novak played with Daniel and Scott. Showalter claimed the Kender character emerged in Novak's mind. The children were no
longer real. They were a fantasy, evil force, an obstacle to the character's imagined golds. Shewald's testimony painted a picture of a boy who had lost the boundary between reality and imagination, but the prosecution countered to decisively. Doctor Donald mcgoone, another psychiatrist, testified that Novak demonstrated no impairment in his grasp of reality. He said, Jean Novac exhibited only the usual struggles of adolescence in security, low self esteem, a
desire to feel appreciated. These are all normal. I saw no evidence that he believed he was a Kender. The doctor added that Novak expressed genuine remorse. He often cried himself to sleep in jail. He testified he didn't know why he killed the boys, but he was fully aware of what he was doing. Doctor Paul Manshium corroborated this view.
While he acknowledged that Novak had reacted violently when one of the boys touched his knife, he described this as part of ordinary magical thinking, a human tendency to ascribe significance to objects or events, such as buying a lottery ticket. I never saw any clue that Sean had eened, ever thought he was a candor or that candor was him. He said. The closing arguments brought the emotional weight of the case to its peaque. Defense attorney Richard Bridges implored
the jury to focus on the core question. Was Jean Novak legally insane at the time of the murders. He painted the picture of a boy overwhelmed by his inner world, a young man whose bizarre behavior such as talking to unanimate objects obsessing over fantasy, was a cry for help. He said, this young man was out of control, and there was no reason for him to be out of control. Look at the evidence look at the life of a boy crying silently in his bedroom, isolated and struggling, yet
living in a reality he couldn't fully grasp. Prosecutor Robert Humphries rose to read, but his voice was sharp as he firmly said, this is psychobabble. These weren't mistakes, These weren't accidents. The boy his bodies were carefully hidden. They were methodically killed. Someone who's not in control does not take the time to conceal what they've done. This was deliberate, calculated and cruel. After deliberating for just ninety minutes, the
jury reached a decision. John Novak was found guilty of the murders of Scott Weaver and Daniel Gear. There was no visible reaction from him, no tears, no flinching, no apology. After he was escorted from the courtroom, his defense attorney said he had seen in the juror's eyes during closing arguments that they had no sympathy for anybody but the victims and their families. He said, it's sad I think the case is full of victims. The sentencing phase of
the trial began on the fourth of May. It was decided that the sentence would be up to Circuit Judge John mure As opposed to the jury. Novak's defense attorney said of his client, he's extremely disoriented about all of this because it makes no sense to him. He's not sure how it happened, or how it erupted, or even that it really did. He doesn't know completely that it did. The defense called on some of Novak's family to plead for leniency. His mother, Jenny said, I think someone needs
to find out what's going on inside of Shaan. She started to cry as she said. Sean has tried to protect us. He puts a smile on his face and tries to say anything that will be encouraging and uplifting the prosecution. We're seeking a death sentence. Prosecutor Humphreys compared Novak to Ted Bundy and Charles Manson. He called the murders absolutely vile, disgusting. Defense attorney Bridges argued that sentencing him to death would only compound what is a tragedy.
He said, I don't want this court to create more victims and more funerals. The defense attorney asked rhetorically whether the Gears and Weavers would find solace in Novak's execution in the public gallery. Daniel's father, Gary nodded. Judge Murr referred to the murders as probably one of the most horrible crimes this city has ever seen. He said that the absence of any clear motive suggested that Novak was
a threat to kill again. While the jury rejected the insanity defense, the judge stated, I do believe he suffers from some severe psychiatric problems. This case was primarily the product of a very young, very immature, and very disturbed young man. The judge ultimately spared novaka death sentence and sentenced him to life in prison. He would become eligible for parole in twenty five years when he turned forty two. It was compromise between justice and recognition of Novak's youth
and mental instability. Yet, decades later, the question that haunted the families and the community remains unanswered. Why John Novak never fully explained why he killed Scott and Daniel. His defense attorney reflected on the chilling silence that followed any attempts to broach the subject. He recalled John never really communicated with us. He talked about TV shows, juggling, and what books he was reading in jail, but when we changed the subject to the case, he would just stop
talking and shrug. The prosecution had their own theory. They believed that Novak was simply obsessed with murder and driven by a desperate need for attention. Daniel's father, Gary captured the enduring pain of a father who would never really know the full story when he said I kept thinking he would say something. I wanted the guy to turn around to the families and say I'm sorry, or even go to hell anything. I've searched my mind from the back to the front, and I can't find a reason
for this. I'll probably spend the rest of my life trying to figure it out. Well, that is it for this episode of Morbidology. As always, thank you so much for listening, and I'd like to say a massive thank you to my new supporter up on Patreon, Ali. You can join Morbidology up on Patreon for as little as one dollar a month and there are no obligations. You're
free to cancel your subscription at any point. Morbidology is also now up on Apple Subscriptions, where you get odd free early release and bonus episodes of Morbidology, plus that aren't on the regular podcast platforms. Remember to check us out at morbidology dot com for more information about this episode and to read some true crime articles. Until next time, take care of yourselves, stay safe, and have an amazing week.