12:35 a.m.: a shriek pierces through the air. Three earsplitting gunshots are heard in the distance.

Detective Saunders wakes up from another sleepless night to the repetitive sound of his alarm clock and reluctantly gets out of bed at 6:23 a.m. As he gets ready for his day, his black 1960s British telephone rings for the first time in days. After recovering from the initial shock caused by the sudden sound, he picks up the phone and immediately recognizes the voice as that of Captain Adrian Smith from the SFPD.

“Hello, this is Captain Smith from the San Francisco Police Department. Is Oscar Saunders there?” Captain Smith says with a hint of frustration in his voice.

“NO!” replies Oscar before quickly hanging up the phone. The next five hours are spent staring at a slightly damaged Beatles poster hanging from the east wall of his one room apartment. The phone ringing once more abruptly ends the long trance.

“Hello, this is Captain Smith from the San Francisco Police Department. Is Oscar Saunders there?” says Adrian Smith for the second time today.

“Yes” responds Oscar in an almost cheerful way.

“There has been another murder, how soon can you come down here?” says Captain Smith.

“I’ll be down in a minute” is the response. As Captain Smith contemplates whether he mentioned where the murder had happened on the phone or not, Oscar arrives in his newly bought Black 1987 BMW M3.

Captain Smith immediately walks up to Detective Saunders. The Detective starts by asking questions about the victim, and finds out quite a bit of information. The victim’s name was Angela Sampson, she was a Peabody Prize Winner in 1953, and was 63 years old at the time of her death. She did not leave a will, and had no living relatives.

There are no clues left at the crime scene. All the police know is that the victim was shot multiple times before jumping out of her apartment and plunging into the San Francisco Bay. This was the seventh murder in the apartment building, and it is decided that there will be increased security in the building, just in case the murderer returns.

Oscar Saunders arrives home to find that he left his window open and all the papers he had were scattered around his small, one-room apartment. After cleaning up his apartment, he sits down to write in his journal.

August 15th, 1987
Another murder has occurred today. There weren’t any clues left behind by the murderer. Also, I’ve come to believe that someone else has been writing in this journal. I am fairly certain about this because I have noticed different handwriting in this journal and read about things that have never happened to me.

Five years passed, and in that time, Oscar Saunders was diagnosed with Multiple Personality Disorder and was undergoing psychotherapy. The murders are still under investigation but they have no more information than they had when the investigation had begun. Eventually, a police officer named Frank, who was assigned to the case, noticed something about the addresses for the victims, which were 3R, 3E, 3D, 3F, 3O, 2R, 3D. He noticed that if he got rid of all the numbers, he was left with the word "Redford". So Frank searched everything for the name Redford, and he eventually found a bank account filed under the name Earl Redford. Frank found the address of Earl Redford, which, to his suprise, was the same as Oscar Saunders. At the exact moment he had found this information, Oscar Saunders, armed with two machine guns, entered the doors to the San Francisco Police Department. Within 22 minutes, Oscar Saunders had transformed the police station into a smoldering ruin, and Earl Redford left the building.