Chasing Evil: Shocking Crimes, Supernatural Forces, and an FBI Agent's Search for Hope and Justice

“These women in the photos were strangers to me, but I felt an immediate, emotional, all-encompassing need to help them. As if they were urging me to.”

This moment of internal monologue reveals that Hilland’s motivation transcends professional duty, becoming a deeply personal calling. The phrase “As if they were urging me to” introduces a supernatural undertone to his quest, foreshadowing his eventual, unconventional partnership with a psychic. This quote establishes the obsessive drive that is central to the theme of The Cost of Chasing Justice, as this “all-encompassing need” will soon take precedence over his family life.

“I felt a quiet, unspoken, pure evil. Like a storm about to hit, but before it does there is this quiet, unspoken calm. […] That’s what John was like. I was always waiting for the storm.”

Janice Miller’s testimony here relies on an extended simile to articulate a feeling that defies rational explanation. By comparing Smith to the “quiet, unspoken calm” before a storm, she verbalizes the intuitive dread he instills, which echoes Hilland’s own initial perception. The repetition of “unspoken” emphasizes that Smith’s menace is a palpable energy rather than an explicit threat, which the memoir frames as validation of its focus on intuition as a legitimate tool of investigation.

“‘This is a fight between Good and Evil,’ he said.”

Delivered by the psychic John Edward, this statement establishes the narrative’s central moral and metaphysical framework. It elevates the case from a standard criminal investigation to a symbolic battle, defining Hilland’s obsessive quest not merely as a job but as a spiritual calling. This framing serves as a narrative device that justifies the unconventional methods and immense personal sacrifices that the case will demand.

“I walked into John Edward’s office that day a cynic and walked out with my belief system rattled, turned upside down, like one of those snow globes after a vigorous shake.”

This passage captures Hilland’s profound internal transformation, a crucial turning point in the narrative. The “snow globe” simile illustrates the complete disruption of his rigid, evidence-based worldview, setting the stage for his unorthodox partnership with Edward. This moment signals Hilland’s new willingness to integrate intuition with traditional investigation, embodying the book’s theme of The Power of Intuition and Evidence Working in Tandem.

“‘For women struggling financially, he became a wealthy benefactor,’ I told her. ‘For women in need of physical or emotional love, he was Casanova. For women in need of salvation, he was a religious prophet. But he was none of these things. He was a predator playing upon the weakness of others.’”

Hilland’s summary of Smith’s methodology uses parallel structure to build a concise psychological profile of a chameleon-like predator. The repetition of “For women…” followed by the role Smith assumes portrays him as systematically identifying and exploiting specific vulnerabilities. This analysis frames Smith’s primary weapon as a form of predatory empathy, which he uses to manipulate his victims before destroying them.

“I hate your work!”

Spoken by Hilland’s wife, Alex, this exclamatory statement provides a stark conclusion to a scene depicting the escalating domestic conflict caused by the Smith case. The line functions as a concise summary of the personal toll of Hilland’s obsession, directly illustrating the theme of the cost of chasing justice. Its placement at the chapter’s end emphasizes the irreparable damage being done to his family life, which has become secondary to his professional mission.

“‘He said: “Don’t worry about it…she’s dead.” I remember a cold chill running through my body when he said that. I can feel it now,’ she shivered. ‘The way he said it was so ominous.’”

This quote reports a direct statement from Smith about his first wife, Janice, as recalled by witness Kathleen McDonald. The dialogue offers a direct glimpse into Smith’s detached view of his wife’s humanity, contributing to his characterization as cold and cruel. Kathleen’s accompanying sensory memory—a “cold chill” that she can still feel—underscores the lasting impression Smith made, functioning as another example of intuition: At the time, Kathleen had no reason to believe Smith had killed his wife, but his casual words about her death alerted her to the fact that something was wrong with the situation.

“And when you’re in an enclosed space with somebody like that, you find out what Evil tastes like, sounds like, and feels like.”

Speaking of his first moments interrogating John Smith, Hilland employs a sensory metaphor to the abstract concept of “Evil,” describing it as having a taste, sound, and feel. This literary device makes Smith’s presence a palpable force, establishing the confrontation as a primal battle against a tangible malevolence rather than a simple interrogation. The passage also invokes a broader motif of “enclosed spaces,” hinting that Hilland has entered the psychological niche where Smith hides his crimes.

“His face changed from genuine pain, sorrow, and truth, to one of fear, recognition, and shock. Before my eyes, he changed from a man on the verge of confessing to someone who recognized his own jeopardy. My touch and voice had broken him from his trance!”

This passage marks the climax and failure of Smith’s interrogation, occurring just after Hilland invokes the memory of Smith’s grandmother. The author uses vivid diction, contrasting “genuine pain” with “fear” and “shock,” to capture the instantaneous psychological shift in the suspect. Hilland’s supportive touch, an action intended to build rapport, becomes the ironic catalyst that shatters the fragile, trance-like state, demonstrating the difficulty of Coaxing Truth from Deception Through Psychological Insight.

“‘I moved some of the clothes around and then I saw a pewter crucifix and rainbow-colored hair.’

‘Rainbow-colored?’

‘Yep. It was red, yellow, blue, green, and orange. I thought it was a clown’s wig. Then I moved the hair out of the way and that’s when I saw her face.’”

Michael Smith provides the central image of the investigation through this visceral description of Janice’s body. That Edward echoes the seemingly inexplicable detail of Janice’s hair color, which later investigation into the case explains, serves as further evidence of the authenticity of his abilities and the value of mediumship to police work.

“‘Yeah. Remember when Ripley comes face to face with this ominous, powerful, scary-as-hell mother alien?’

[…]

‘When the mother alien finally appears,’ John describes, totally into the scene, ‘there’s this “Oh shit!” moment. That’s what I felt just now when I saw Smith’s mother.’”

Edward uses a pop-culture allusion to the film Aliens to characterize Smith’s mother, Grace. This metaphor frames Grace not just as an accomplice but as the formidable, monstrous source of her son’s evil, the “mother alien” to his drone. The comparison contributes to the narrative’s framing of its central conflict as larger than any single person—as a conflict between the forces of good and the forces of evil.

“He banged the turkey head against the countertop. ‘Hard as wood,’ he said, and handed me the head.”

In this scene, funeral director Dick Armstrong demonstrates a “shortcut” to embalming a body, using the example of a turkey he has preserved. This moment serves as a convergence of psychic intuition and empirical evidence, a central concept in the narrative. Edward’s clue about “cherry pipe tobacco” leads Hilland to Armstrong, whose practical demonstration provides a plausible scientific explanation for how Smith could have preserved Janice’s body for years. The stark, tactile imagery of the turkey head being banged on the counter—and the simple, declarative statement “Hard as wood”—transforms an abstract theory into a concrete, visceral reality for both the investigator and the reader.

“You should be proud of yourself, Bobby. You’re the first agent in the history of the fucking FBI to start a case with two missing people and now you have three!”

Spoken by Hilland’s superior, Dennis Buckbee, this quote marks a professional nadir for the protagonist and crystallizes the theme of the cost of chasing justice. The line’s sarcasm underscores the institutional consequences of Hilland’s obsessive, unconventional methods, which have led not to a breakthrough but to the prime suspect’s disappearance. This moment of intense professional rebuke is used to dramatize the immense pressure on Hilland and to create a turning point where his official investigation is shut down, forcing him to operate in secret.

“John, that was Jan in the box! […] For God’s sake, you cut her fucking legs off! For years I’ve had nightmares of Janice chasing me down and beating me with her legs. I mean, come on!”

During a recorded phone call intended to trap Smith, his brother departs from the script with this emotional outburst. The visceral detail of the recurring nightmare contrasts the profound personal trauma Michael has endured with Smith’s “goat in a box” story, pointing to the latter’s absurdity. Though Smith does not confess, Michael’s words demonstrate how a carefully constructed scenario can unravel, allowing an authentic and damning truth to emerge from years of repressed memory and fear.

“That’s how I felt about finding Janice and Fran, that same desperate energy. Like I was thrust into a world I couldn’t control and needed to tear everything down until I found them.”

In this moment of self-analysis, Hilland uses an analogy (“Like I was thrust into a world I couldn’t control”) to articulate the depth of his obsession. The quote frames his motivation not as professional determination but as a consuming need, hinting that he is driven by forces greater than himself. The description of a “desperate energy” that requires him to “tear everything down” underscores this while also illustrating the destructive potential of his quest, linking directly to the theme of the cost of chasing justice.

“‘No,’ said Potts, his voice cracking a little. ‘Today is Janice’s birthday.’”

This line is delivered at Janice Hartman’s exhumation. The revelation’s timing apparently validates Edward’s earlier, cryptic psychic message that Janice was offering thanks “for the birthday present” (194). This convergence of events functions as another synthesis of methodical police work and seemingly supernatural insight. The detail of the detective’s “voice cracking a little” injects a moment of human emotion, underscoring the discovery not just as a case breakthrough but as a moment of justice for the victim.

“The visual was unmistakable; Janice Hartman’s face was etched on the gown’s fabric. She was looking right at us. It was her own Shroud of Turin.”

In this moment of discovery, the author uses a religious metaphor, comparing the accidental imprint on Janice’s nightgown to the Shroud of Turin. This comparison elevates a piece of forensic evidence into a sacred relic, underscoring the book’s fusion of the evidentiary and the spiritual. The image also transforms Janice into a watchful presence, hinting that her spirit has played a role in orchestrating this outcome.

“But in the weeks after 9/11, I learned that sometimes Evil didn’t reside in a foreign land or a place of biblical punishment. It can live and thrive in your own backyard. And I decided that in life’s existential battle, each person had to pick a side.”

This internal reflection connects the macro-level evil of terrorism with the localized evil of a killer like Smith. The author uses spatial juxtaposition—“foreign land” versus “your own backyard”—to universalize the nature of malevolence, framing it as an omnipresent and often intimate threat. The reflection concludes with a declarative statement about choosing a side, framing Hilland’s professional quest not merely as a job but as a moral and existential imperative.

“If the relationship was troubled, you can continue to work on it. Especially because the person on the Other Side has grown wiser and cleaned their energy of negative patterns. […] I can drop my guard against the established relationship dynamic and allow myself to heal on a different level.”

Edward’s dialogue about his father’s death articulates a key spiritual philosophy that directly informs the narrative’s exploration of unresolved relationships. The use of metaphysical language like “energy” provides a framework for healing that extends beyond physical life, challenging a purely empirical worldview. This concept offers a new dimension to Hilland’s unresolved relationships (with his wife, his father, etc.) and to the theme of the cost of chasing justice, suggesting that personal resolution is possible even after death.

“The case I want you to work on is bigger than that. So, I don’t care if you have baggage. I don’t care if you’ve killed 19 people. But before we go any further, I need to know your skeletons.”

This quote from Hilland’s interrogation of a suspect illustrates the theme of coaxing truth from deception through the use of a calculated ruse. By employing hyperbole (“I don’t care if you’ve killed 19 people”), Hilland creates a psychological framework designed to minimize the suspect’s own crimes and incentivize a confession. This carefully constructed dialogue speaks to the book’s depiction of interrogation as a performance that manipulates a suspect’s ego and perception of consequence.

“‘If you’re here and you can hear my voice, turn that streetlight on…’

The light burst to life, blazing like a torch. Bright, even against the sunniest of skies. I raised my hand to shield my eyes.”

This scene marks a critical turning point in Hilland’s character arc, as he moves from relying on a psychic intermediary to seemingly engaging in direct communication with the spiritual realm. For Hilland, the streetlight serves as a physical manifestation of an otherworldly presence that validates his unorthodox methods and deepening belief. The experience is key to resolving Hilland’s internal conflict between skepticism and faith and solidifying the theme of intuition and evidence working in tandem.

“SHE’S IN THERE. SHE’S RIGHT THERE!”

While on the phone with Hilland, Edward urgently relays information about the location of Annie Le’s body. The memoir uses capitalization and exclamatory punctuation to convey the intensity of Edward’s demeanor and the immediacy of what he is saying, creating narrative tension and accelerating the pace of the search. This dialogue represents a direct application of the book’s central premise, showing raw, intuitive data being translated in real-time into an actionable lead for law enforcement. The short, declarative sentences mirror the focused, unfiltered nature of the psychic “hit.”

“Less than two feet away from the septic tank lay a Star Wars X-wing fighter spacecraft, angled in a way that it was pointing to the tank like an arrow.”

This sentence marks the climax of the search for Noah Thomas, where Hilland discovers the physical proof of Edward’s psychic vision. The narrator uses precise, objective language to describe an image with symbolic weight: An innocent child’s toy is transformed into a grim marker of death. The simile “like an arrow” makes the object’s function explicit, solidifying it as the concrete link between the psychic clue and the tragic reality.