Exhibit 1

“Help us! Please, God, someone help us! Please God, make it—” 

“Turn it off, turn that off right now! My apologies, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, my apologies.” The prosecutor adjusts his glasses, his voice tight. “What you just heard was a clip from the found footage discussed in this case. Upon review, the Honorable Mary Dolas determined it was insufficient for viewership, due to its grotesque and gruesome nature. For this purpose, you will be reading only the transcript of the found footage. You may proceed in reading Exhibit 1.” The prosecutor pauses, then nods at the jury, his voice low. “Please, keep an open mind, and remember, certain obstacles, or rather, certain oddities, are beyond our ability to overcome.” 

***

Exhibit 1

In late October of 2020, the remains of Mark Higgins (age 17) were found at Rolling Hills Farm in Fresno, California. His girlfriend, Erica Che (age 17), is still missing. The owner of the grounds, Charles “Charlie” Grant, discovered Mr. Higgins' camera in the western end of the cornfield days after the kids were reported missing. Below is the transcript of their last recordings. 

Saturday October 24, 16:22 PM: Che and Higgins can be seen exiting Che’s vehicle and walking towards the farm house of Charles Grant.

CHE: “Grab the camera! Is it on?”

HIGGINS: “You really think it’s a good idea to be here? Because it not too late to–”

CHE: “Mark, you know why I want this. We’re not leaving until we get it. Come on babe, please, do this for me?”

HIGGINS: “Fine, fine. And the camera is on, say hi.” 

CHE: “Hi everyone! Stop shaking it! People watching, please excuse my boyfriend’s terrible cameraman ship. Let’s do introductions and then we can try to interview Charlie. Hopefully he’s here.” 

HIGGINS: “Oh he’s here. He’s never left the farm. Alright, go for the intro.” 

Che is standing in front of the farm's faded, wooden sign. Sign reads, Welcome to Rolling Hills!

CHE: “Hi everyone, and thank you for tuning back into my channel, Caffeinated Crime! As always, sit back, relax, grab a cup of coffee, and listen closely. I have a story that’s gonna keep you up at night. I’m here today at the infamous Rolling Hills Farm, or as the locals call it, Rolling Heads Farm. There’s been so many strange disappearances here, from pets getting lost and never coming home, to kids last seen wandering the farm grounds and then going missing. And just last year, two kids from Clovis were found dead in this cornfield, right here, on Halloween night. No one knows what happened to them, but that’s why I’m here, to maybe get some answers. And, with Halloween just a week away, I couldn’t think of a better story for you all.”

HIGGINS: “Don’t forget to mention Charlie!”

CHE: “Shh! We’ll have to cut that. But, uh, yes, Charlie Grant has owned this farm for years and has been at the center of all the mysteries surrounding the grounds. Some say he has everything to do with the disappearances. But he’s never admitted to anything. And today, we’re going to meet the man himself. Shit. Mark, do you see that?”

HIGGINS: “Yeah, looks like, flames? In the cornfield?”

CHE: “Come on let’s go!”  

Although the footage is blurry and shaking, it is determined Che and Higgins are running towards the source of the flames. A large fire pit comes into focus and an object in the center of it appears to be burning. At first glance, it looks like a body. 

CHE: “Are you getting this? Please tell me you’re getting this?”

HIGGINS: “I am, but what is that? What that the fuck is—”

GRANT: “What are you kids doing here!”

Che and Higgins spin around and are confronted by Charles Grant. 

CHE: “Sir, we’re very sorry, we didn’t mean to–”

Grant points at the camera and advances towards it. 

GRANT: “Get that techno shit off my property!”

Higgins takes a step back. 

HIGGINS: “Mr. Grant, sir, we’re not trying to start any trouble. Please, just, hey, hey! I noticed your cornfield really came in this year. As my old man says, yours is always the cream of the crop. Well done, sir.” 

Grant mutters something under his breath and waves a hand at Higgins. Then, he throws more wood onto the fire. 

GRANT: “I’ve never liked visitors. Why you here? And why do you have that contraption shoved in my face?”  

CHE: “Mr. Grant, this is just a camera, and we’re here to talk to you about the disappearances at Rolling Hills Farm.”

GRANT: “I sure hope you kids didn’t come here, setting foot on my farm, to tell me I had somethin’ to do with those disappearances, you hear?”

CHE: “Yes sir! I mean, no sir! We don’t think—”

GRANT: “Good, cause I ain’t got nothing to do with them.”

CHE: “Actually, that’s why we wanted to talk to you, Mr. Grant–”

GRANT: “Call me Charlie.”

CHE: “Ok, Charlie, well we wanted to get your side of the story, and see what you think is going on. You know these grounds better than anyone—”

GRANT: “You’re damn right I do. This farm is my pride and joy. Been living on it for twenty two years, longer than the two of you ever been around, I bet.”

CHE: “That’s true. Really quickly, Charlie, may we have your permission to record you? Like I said, we really just want to hear your side of the story. It would mean a lot.” 

GRANT: “Go on ahead.”

CHE: “Thank you. So, as you were saying, you didn’t have anything to do with the disappearances of the still missing pets or children last seen here? Or the murders from last year? Do you have any idea what’s going on?”

GRANT: “I sure do. It’s because of the scarecrows, like this one right here.”

Grant points down at the fire pit. 

CHE: “Scarecrows?” 

GRANT: “Because of the legend. You kids know about the legend, right?” 

Che shakes her head and leans in closer to Grant. Grant nods. 

GRANT: “Ok then. Well, scarecrows are linked to harvest rituals. And some folks, myself included, believe that scarecrows contain the spirit of the field. And these grounds, the grounds they protect, should be treated with respect. My scarecrows do much more than scare some birds away. They protect my field from evil doings.”

CHE: “With all due respect, Charlie, if these scarecrows are just being protective, then why do so many bad things happen here?”

Grant pauses for a few moments, then grins. 

GRANT: “You ever think maybe good things are happening here?” 

CHE: “What do you mean?”

GRANT: “Alls I’m saying is, my crops are good. Each year I make a profit with no trouble, no trouble at all, even during the droughts. I’d say that’s pretty damn good, too. It’s truly a shame what’s been happening to those kids and dogs, though, but my scarecrows, they’re doing just fine.” 

Grant takes another log and tosses it into the fire. 

CHE: “And the fire. What about that? Why burn them, if they bring such great luck?”

GRANT: “It’s the most important part. I need to burn them, after they’ve done their job, to release their spirit. Or else they get… too attached.” 

Che stands there, for many seconds, staring into the flames. 

GRANT: “You know, I could show you kids a thing or two, what with how I do it. You could put that on your fancy recorder.” 

CHE: “Like, you’ll show us how you make the scarecrows?” 

GRANT: “Sure. But only if you want to see it.” 

Footage cuts off here. It starts again at 16:46 PM. Che, Higgins, and Grant are seen inside one of the sheds on the eastern end of the farm grounds (see Exhibit 6). The shed appears to stand in disarray. Based on rough estimates, the shed looks to be 11 feet by 12 feet. Inside, there is a long, wooden table covered with tools and other trinkets, however, laid out clearly amongst the clutter are clumps of hay, a burlap sack, a black, tar-like substance, and twine. 

GRANT: “Pay attention, it’s really not that hard. You just take some of this…”

Grant can be seen stuffing the burlap sack with hay, forming a head. He then ties the bulge with twine atop a large, wooden stick. He stuffs the rest of the sack with more hay, tying it mid waist and then again at the bottom. He inserts a smaller wooden stick horizontally across the “chest,” then drapes a worn piece of clothing over it, perhaps a shirt or sweater. Then, he leans the object against the back wall window.  

GRANT: “And now, the finishing touch.” 

Grant dips a paint brush into the black, tar-like substance and draws two, round circles for eyes, and an upward curve for a mouth on the head of the scarecrow. The black substance, still drying, drips down the eyes and mouth, elongating the features. Grant takes a step back and smiles. 

GRANT: “And there she is, the beauty. Whater you think?” 

Che is speechless. She eventually nods and smiles. Higgins, who has remained silent, answers. 

HIGGINS: “That’s really, uh, really unique. Really unique. So, how does it work?” 

GRANT: “How's what work?” 

HIGGINS: “The scarecrow, how does it work? How does it protect the field?” 

GRANT: “Oh, you’ll just have to wait and see, now won’t ya? It shouldn’t be long now.” 

CHE: “What? You’re not going to tell us?” 

GRANT: “Naw, I just think some things are better left seen than said, ya hear?” 

HIGGINS: “So, what, you want us to stay here until, until when? We have a curfew—”

GRANT: “You’ll want to stay. Trust me, you’ll want to stay. It’s something you won’t want to miss. For your story. And you’ll make your curfew, it really won’t be long now, maybe another hour or so. It all begins once the sun goes down.”

CHE: “What begins?” 

Grant chuckles and grabs hold of the scarecrow. He walks towards the shed’s entrance, then turns back and grins. 

GRANT: “Like I said, you’ll just have to wait and see. You two have a good night, now.” 

Footage cuts off here. It starts again at 19:22 PM. Che can be seen sitting on the floor of the shed, looking at her phone. 

HIGGINS: “Come on, babe, let’s go. I don’t want to wait around anymore—”

CHE: “Mark, please, just a little longer. I want this video to go viral. And if it leads to one of the disappearances, we could win the award money! That would mean—”

HIGGINS: “I know. You’d get to go to college—”

CHE: “It’s not just that. It’s about getting out of this town. This could be my ticket out!”

HIGGINS: “Is it really so bad here?” 

Che’s smile fades. She pauses. 

CHE: “No, it’s not so bad—”

A loud smash disrupts the video’s audio. Che freezes. 

CHE: “What was that?” 

The same sound can be heard again, only much louder and closer this time. It sounds as though something has hit the shed door. Higgins points the camera at the door. 

HIGGINS: “Shhh, shhh, Erica look, look.”

A stunningly bright white light floods through the cracks in the shed walls, illuminating the room. Che and Higgins remain very still. The light seems to get brighter, and even brighter still, then it disappears all together. Che and Higgins are once again sitting in darkness. They remain very quiet. 

Suddenly, two distinct clicks can be heard. It sounds as if someone has clicked their tongue together quickly. There’s a pause, then the two clicks happen again. A longer pause. Then the shed door is struck hard once more. 

HIGGINS: “Fuck, hold on.”

Higgins moves towards the door, presumably to lock it, but Che stops him. 

CHE: “No, wait, give me the camera.”

HIGGINS: “Are you fucking serious? That’s what you’re thinking about right now? Not about whatever the fuck that is?”

CHE: “Mark. Give me the camera.” 

Higgins hands Che the camera and then Higgins approaches the shed door. As he gets closer, the camera focuses on the window pane above the shed door. 

CHE: “Shit. Mark, Mark? Look up.”

Higgins pauses. The silhouette of a distorted figure can be seen peering in through the window. It raises what looks to be a hand, long and slender, then taps four fingers along the window. The two distinct clicks can be heard again. Then, the shed’s front door handle slowly begins to turn.

Higgins leaps forward and grabs the door handle, clearly trying to keep it from turning any further. It appears he is struggling with the strength of the force trying to enter the shed. A loud, piercing screech cuts through the audio. Higgins, still holding onto the door handle, turns back towards Che. 

HIGGINS: “Run! Erica, go, get help!”

CHE: “I’m not leaving you!”

HIGGINS: “You have to! The back window, go, now!”

Che stifles a cry then spins around. Footage shows she moves towards the back wall window. The window, which looks to be just over a foot wide, is closed. Che sets the camera down as she tries to pry open the window, its edges screeching against the pane. In the background, Higgins can be heard straining, trying to keep the front door shut. Once Che opens the window, she tosses the camera outside. Footage shows ground view of cornfield ahead. 

Che struggles to squeeze through the window, and then, behind her, the sound of the shed door slamming open. Seconds later, the first scream of Higgins can be heard. Higgins’ tortured and agonized cries last for 22 seconds. In this time, the sound of something being torn or ripped is heard, repeatedly. It is unknown how long Higgins remained in this state, for moments later, Che lands hard on the ground, picks up the camera, and runs straight for the cornfield. 

CHE: “Help us! Please!” 

Footage is blurry and shaking. All that can be heard are Higgins’ continued screams, growing distant now, and Che’s staggered breathing. It is determined Che is running forward, and running for quite some time, frantically knocking down corn stalks. She appears to be heading west. 

CHE: “Help us! Please, God, someone help us! Please God, make it—”

Footage completely collapses, the audio muffled, and it appears Che has been knocked to the ground. Upon further review, it is determined Che tripped over something large and wooden. She picks up the camera and continues filming. Che steadies herself and focuses the camera on an object on the ground. Before her is a large, round wooden door built right into the ground. Che reaches forward and pulls up on the black handle. As soon as she lifts the lid, she screams, and jumps back. Che begins to mumble to herself. 

CHE: “This can’t be real, this isn’t…”

Che inches forward towards the opened door, shining the camera light into the hole. Even in the dark, even with Che’s shaking hands, it is unmistakably clear that bodies upon bodies, bashed-in and broken-boned, lie within, piled atop one another. Che zooms in on a pair of half open, bloodshot eyes, staring deadpan. She zooms out and the full body, or rather, what is left of it, comes into view. It is the mangled remains of Mark Higgins, laying at the very top of the pile. 

CHE: “Mark? Please, God, please. Mark? Mark I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry. This is all my fault. This is—”

Two distinct clicks can be heard and Che freezes, breathing hard. She turns in a slow circle, shaking uncontrollably, all the while filming. Still filming. The surrounding corn stalks sway, gently rolling with the wind. 

A branch snaps behind Che and she spins around. 

Two distinct clicks can be heard. And then, in a matter of moments, a figure, slim and distorted, rushes towards the camera. A face, or what appears to be a face, comes into focus. Black holes where eyes should be, deep and dark, and a mouth, a mouth elongating disproportionately and splitting open to unveil nests of twine and twig jutting out. The figure, the creature, shrieks, then clamps its maw down on the camera. 

The camera falls to the ground, and upon impact, all that can be seen are the bottom of Che’s shoes as she runs forward further into the cornfield, disappearing into the stalks. The figure gets down on all fours, clicks twice, then follows her. 

Footage continues rolling for two more minutes. 

The corn stalks stand tall, stand still, until a breeze whispers through, rustling their leaves. Nothing more can be heard, nothing more can be seen.  

At 19:59 PM, the tape cuts out, and all goes dark. 

End of document.