Emily Johnson

I flip through the police report on Emily Johnson, the first victim. I notice the date of August 8, the day she was found by deputies John Smith and Karen Davis. Her neighbor in the dorm called the police to check on her, and they made the horrifying discovery. Emily's body was found in the bathtub, her wrists slit, and drained of all her blood. The tub itself had been emptied.

The detail about a suicide note and a bottle of Adderall catches my attention. I jot these details down in my journal, my mind working to make sense of it all. The Adderall could've been a factor in her state of mind. The medication is commonly used to treat ADHD, and misuse or overuse could potentially lead to erratic behavior. But could it contribute to her ****?

It isn’t addictive, and certainly not recreational. Mostly, college kids use it to stay awake to study. I can't help but wonder if Emily had any conflicts with the other victims, and if her **** could've been somehow connected. The suicide note remains an intriguing piece of evidence, but it's not currently in my possession. Presumably, it in the evidence room at the Sheriff’s Office.

I flip through the autopsy report, trying to reconcile the age discrepancy. The police report stated she was 33, but the autopsy clearly indicated she was 19. I underline the age discrepancy in my journal and mark it with a question, wondering if this could be a crucial clue. Or perhaps it's just sloppy policework, which wouldn't be the first time.

Taking a closer look at the toxicology report, I find Adderall and **** in her bloodwork. The combination could've exacerbated any emotional instability, but it doesn't necessarily point to a motive for her ****. My heart sinks as I discover ligature marks and hemp fibers on her ankles. The marks around her ankles suggest that she may have been restrained.

The discovery challenges the initial narrative of a simple suicide. The absence of liver mortis due to complete exsanguination piques my interest as well. As I read further, I find the object used to cut her wrists was recovered at the scene. As I wrap up my examination of the autopsy report, I feel an overwhelming sense of unease.

It's clear that the facts don't align with the initial narrative, and I need to dig deeper. I sit down at my computer and type Emily Johnson's name into Google, eager to find out as much as I can about her. A slew of search results pop up, with a few articles about her passing, along with her obituary. I scan the information, hoping to find any clues that could be relevant.

A couple of mentions of her being an active member in a campus group for mental health awareness and support pique my interest. I head to her social media, eager to see if I can glean any more information from her online presence. I find her Instagram account, @emilyspirit, and I'm struck by the sheer number of followers she has. Her photos show her at various events, hanging out with friends, and attending classes.

As I continue to scroll through her account, I notice that she often posts about Williams Women's College events. It's evident that she valued her education and the community she was a part of. Some of her posts feature her with different friends, showcasing the strong relationships she'd built.

As I dive into her Facebook, I find a similar narrative, with more interactions and comments from her friends. The sheer number of posts wishing her well on her birthday or during finals leave me in awe. I discover her Twitter account, where she shared her thoughts on current events, as well as retweeting various mental health-related organizations.

Her Twitter bio reads, "Aspiring journalist, fighting the good fight, one story at a time." Having exhausted her social media presence, my gut tells me that there's more to Emily's **** than initially meets the eye, and I'm determined to uncover the truth. I look at her photo, the smile on her face, now extinguished.