Jon Anderson was a normal man who owned a pizzeria in down town Detroit. He had a loving wife and two beautiful children. He had a few employees at his restaurant but he was the main cook and his wife was the head waitress. Everything was perfect up until today.
Earlier that day, Jon was throwing dough for pizza crusts and adding the spices to the tomato sauce. He kissed his wife goodbye before she left work to pick up the kids from school. He went back inside the kitchen that smelled of home made parmesan and freshly crushed red peppers.
“How was school kids?”
“Good mom.” both of them replied.
I drove them to the house and thought I would help with homework and give them a snack. I brought them inside and walked through down the hallway and stopped. That was weird. I remember closing the bedroom door, Whatever. I opened it and let out a gasp.
Jon picked up the phone. He listened for a few seconds and then dropped the phone. The cops say they found his wife and children murdered. He ran to his home and walked right into the crime scene. There was blood everywhere. In the bedroom lay his wife covered in blood that looked to be from a few knife wounds. His daughter was right by the back door. She looked like she tried to run but only made it a few yards when she was stuck down by a shotgun. His son was shot and thrown on the kitchen counter. It was brutal. The picture was the worst you could imagine. There was no happiness in that house just blood, lots of blood.
Jon talked to the local police for a while and they were amazed at how well he knew what had happened. They at first suspected him but then realized there were two employees and dozens of costumers that could vouch for his innocence at the restaurant. He also was ruled out because the cops came only a couple minutes after the murders and Jon was already a half an hour away in down town Detroit.
He drove away from the scene knowing what he had to do. Go to Washington D.C. and find his friends that worked at the FBI. He was going to come out of retirement.