just call it off. he’s gone. he’s dead. it’s a waste of everyone’s time searching for him at this point. i saw, we all saw the torn shirt fabric, the teddy bear … he’s dead. i don’t know where he is and i don’t want to know. all i want is that man’s face on a billboard all across los angeles, just his big ugly fucking piece of shit face plastered everywhere, i want it nailed to trees in the middle of the woods, and when somebody finds him, i want him brought to me, so i can slowly push an icepick through each one of his eyes, cut out his tongue and stuff it in his asshole, then cauterize the wounds so he stays alive. i wanna see him suffer, just like he saw my son suffer. i want him to watch me enjoy it, just like he enjoyed murdering my son. kelly, i mean it, call whoever makes those billboards, i have a picture of the guy right here, everyone in this city already knows what he looks like thanks to the news but i won’t stop until he’s found. i hope he’s dumb enough to keep himself alive so i can kill him myself.
kelly. KELLY. hey. call them, now. i don’t want a manhunt for my son, i want a manhunt for the monster who killed him.
