The next day, when he walked into the morgue, Lily hugged him. "How's our daddy to be feeling?" "Okay. I haven't gotten sick today, which is good. And I was happy on my way here." "That's good. So, maybe you'll have a good day today." "Yeah. Now, what do you have for me, love?" "Three John Doe's, five Jane Doe's, and a scorched body." "So, what happened to these people?" "Head on collision between a car and a train car. The scorched body is assumed to be the conductor. They all seemed to be drunk in the car, including the driver. Paramedics said that some were babbling incoherently while car parts were lodged inside their bodies. Talking about some guy named Charlie M, or as they called him, CM." "Did they happen to mention any last names?" "One, but it was hard to figure out. It sounded like they had said Janson, but it could be any name. Why?" "That reminds me of a murder case from back in the late 60s. The murderers were always talking about a guy named Charlie. The Tate-LaBianca murders."
Lily's jaw dropped as she made the connection. "Wasn't that Charles Manson? Why would people in their twenties or thirties be talking about something that happened before their time?" "Unless they were planning something similar. Did you know that Sharon Tate was eight and a half months pregnant when she was killed? She begged her murderers to let her have her son, then kill her. Obviously that didn't happen." His hand subconsciously went down to his belly, and he shuddered. "What is it, Nigel?" "Oh, I was just imagining that happening to me. Too freaky. Her killers had no mercy." "Wow. You really know a lot about it. Let's use that smart brain and figure out who these John and Jane Doe's are." "Alright. Can I see the files?" She handed them to him, and he went into the lab to run scans on the fingerprints.
After about an hour of running through the database, he found half of the fingerprints. He continued to look, and found criminal records for the ones he had identified. DUIs, robberies, possession of drugs. It seemed like the only crime those people hadn't committed was murder. "Well, well, well. You were busy people." Bug walked in, and he saw Nigel struggling to hold back tears. "Nigel, what is it?" "These people were Manson follower wannabes. At least, that's what it seems like. They kept mentioning his name in their drunken state, and they had swastikas carved in various places on each of their bodies. That freaked me out. I mean, I know what happened in August 1969, and I wouldn't want that to happen to me or my baby." "Nige, don't worry. It won't. You and your baby are safe." "I know. But I just was freaked out." "It's okay, Nigel. Did you manage to get the prints matched?" "Half of them. The scorched body was almost impossible to get the prints off of, and some of the other bodies had prints, but no records in the system. What I did manage to find, though, were records for the other half of the group, and they all had criminal records. Oh, excuse me."
He bolted for the door, and grabbed the trashcan next to it. He puked into it, and Lily walked in right as he was heaving. "Oh, Nigel. I guess you need to get some air, huh?" He had gone pale, and he was holding the trashcan to his chest. He nodded, and sniffled. "Come on. I'll go with you." She walked over to him, put her arm around his shoulders, and gently led him to the elevator.