EXPOSED: Anthony Allen Shore Executed in Texas| The Tourniquet Killer Assaulted and Killed His……

On January 18th, 2018, after spending over 13 years on death row, Anthony Allen Shore was executed by lethal injection at the Huntsville Unit in Texas. He was 55 years old. The question is, why did it take over a decade to catch a serial killer who left his murder weapon wrapped around his victim’s necks? And why did the DNA that would ultimately identify him sit in a crime lab for years while he continued walking the streets of Houston? But in this video, we will talk about what happened during those final 13 minutes in the death chamber. His

chilling last words where he claimed he’d made peace while insisting there are no others, and the four brutal murders that earned him the nickname the Turniquet Killer. But to uncover the events of that fateful day and why Anthony Shore ended up being executed, we have to go back to September 26th, 1986 and a quiet street in Houston, Texas, where a 24-year-old telephone repairman offered a 14-year-old girl a ride to school.

 A ride she would never return from. September 26th, 1986, sometime in the early morning hours, 14-year-old Laurie Lee Tremblay left her home at the Whitfield Apartment Complex in Houston, Texas. She was walking to the bus stop headed to school like any other day. The route was familiar. She’d walked it dozens of times before, but this morning was different.

This morning, a man in a van pulled up alongside her. His name was Anthony Shore. He was 24 years old, worked as a telephone technician for Southwestern Bell, and he’d been watching Laurie for weeks. He knew her schedule. He knew when she walked to the bus stop. He knew she was alone. Shore had given Laurie rides before.

 He was friendly, charming, the kind of guy who put people at ease. She had no reason to be afraid. So when he offered her a ride that September morning, she got in. It was the last decision she would ever make. According to Shore’s later confession, he drove for a while making conversation. Then he became aggressive.

 He reached over and unhooked her bra making his intentions clear. Laurie fought back. She demanded he stop the car. She demanded to be let out. Shore’s response was swift and brutal. He struck her in the back of the head. Then he grabbed a cotton cord and wrapped it around her throat. He pulled tight strangling the life out of a 14-year-old girl whose only mistake was accepting a ride from someone she thought she could trust.

I tried to make sure she would never ever tell anybody, Shore would later tell detectives. When it was over, Shore drove to Ninfa’s Mexican Restaurant at 10694 Westheimer. He pulled around to the back of the building, opened his door, and dumped Laurie’s body beside a trash bin like she was garbage. Her body was discovered approximately 1 hour later.

Houston police arrived to find a teenage girl dead from ligature strangulation. There was no identification on her body, no witnesses, no suspects. Detectives canvassed the area, interviewed restaurant employees, searched for anyone who might have seen something. They found nothing. The case went cold. Laurie Lee Tremblay became just another unsolved homicide in a city that saw hundreds of murders every year.

 Her killer walked away free having learned something important from this first murder. He’d hurt his finger while strangling her with that cotton cord. The cord had cut into his hand causing pain and leaving potential evidence. Next time Anthony Shore decided, he would use something different, something that would give him more control, something that would let him tighten and loosen the pressure at will.

Next time, he would use a turniquet. To understand how Anthony Shore became the Turniquet Killer, we have to go back further. Back to June 25th, 1962, when Anthony Allen Shore was born in Rapid City, South Dakota. His parents, Robert and Diana Shore, were both military. The family moved constantly, nine times before Anthony reached high school.

He had two younger sisters, Laurel and Gina, and by all accounts, the Shore household was chaotic. Robert and Diana fought constantly. Both engaged in extramarital affairs. The marriage was toxic and the children were caught in the middle. Shore would later claim that his father beat him regularly and that his mother sexually molested him when he was 13 years old.

These claims were never verified, but what is verified is that Anthony Shore displayed disturbing behavior from a very young age. When he was 5 or 6 years old, he stabbed a neighbor’s cat to death. He once pushed a screwdriver into his sister’s head. He began harassing and molesting female classmates and sometimes the younger friends of his own sisters.

 His sister Gina would later describe a disturbing pattern. Anthony would have her knock on doors in their neighborhood to lure girls outside. When the girls came out, Anthony would assault them. He always knew how to say the right thing, Gina later recalled, how to act the right way. He presented very well. You’d never know that there was that demon hidden behind the facade.

In 1976, when Anthony was 14, his parents finally divorced. The family eventually settled in Houston, Texas, where Anthony would spend the rest of his life. Despite his dark impulses, Shore was remarkably talented. He was a gifted musician who could play almost any instrument, piano, trombone, guitar. At age 5, he’d received newspaper recognition for playing Bach at a recital.

 He was charming, charismatic, and meticulous about his appearance. He hung his socks on hangers. He only wore silk underwear. He was hyper-competitive, always needing to be the best at everything. In 1983, at age 21, Shore married Gina Lynn Wolley. They had two daughters, Amber and Tiffany. To the outside world, Shore appeared to be a devoted father, a hard worker, a family man.

But behind closed doors, the monster was already emerging. Shore got a job with Southwestern Bell as a telephone technician. The job gave him a van, access to neighborhoods across Houston, and plenty of time alone. It was the perfect cover for a predator. And then came September 1986 and the murder of Laurie Lee Tremblay.

After killing Laurie, Shore went quiet. Six years passed. He continued working, continued raising his daughters, continued presenting that charming facade to the world. But inside, the evilness, as he would later call it, was building. April 16th, 1992, 6:30 in the morning. 21-year-old Maria del Carmen Estrada left her apartment at 7200 Shady Villa in Houston, Texas.

She was walking to work just like she did every day. Maria was a Mexican immigrant from Guerrero, small and petite at just 5’1″ and 104 lb. She worked as a nanny sending money back to her family whenever she could. The streets were quiet at that hour. Maria was alone. A van pulled up beside her. The driver offered her a ride.

 Six years had passed since Shore killed Laurie Tremblay. Six years of fighting those urges, those crazy thoughts and sick sick notions he would later describe to police. But on this April morning, Shore couldn’t fight them anymore. Maria accepted the ride. She had no reason to suspect danger. The man seemed friendly, helpful, just someone offering to save her a long walk to work.

Shore drove to a Dairy Queen on Westview near Wirt Road. He pulled around to the back of the building where they would be hidden from view. Then he made his move. I opened her blouse and she resisted, Shore would later confess. There were voices in my head that I was going to have her regardless, to possess her in some way.

Maria fought back. She scratched at her attacker, digging her fingernails into his skin, trying desperately to save her own life. She had no way of knowing that those scratches, that DNA she was collecting under her fingernails, would eventually bring her killer to justice. But not for another 11 years. Shaw overpowered her.

 He used a pair of shears to cut off her shorts, her bra, her pantyhose. He sexually assaulted her. And then he did something he hadn’t done with Lori Tremblay. He pulled out his new weapon. A homemade tourniquet made from a cord with a stick attached. Similar to a garrote, or what farmers call a twitch, a tool used to control horses.

The stick allowed him to tighten and loosen the cord at will, giving him complete control over his victim’s suffering. Shaw wrapped the tourniquet around Maria’s neck and began to twist. The cord dug into her throat so deeply that when her body was later examined, the ligature marks were barely visible. He’d twisted it that tight.

At 10:45 that same morning, a delivery man pulled into the Dairy Queen at 6007 Westview. He was there to make a routine delivery. Instead, he found the body of a young woman dumped in the drive-thru lane. Maria del Carmen Estrada lay face up, nude from the waist down. She had a cut on her mouth and a bite mark on one breast.

The tourniquet was still wrapped around her neck, the stick still attached. Houston police arrived to find a crime scene that would haunt investigators for years. The medical examiner determined Maria had been strangled and sexually assaulted. Detectives collected evidence, including something crucial, fingernail clippings that might contain DNA from her attacker.

But in 1992, DNA technology was still in its infancy. The samples were preserved, but without a suspect to compare them to, they were useless. Maria’s father came forward to identify his daughter’s body. The investigation continued for weeks, then months. Detectives canvassed the area where Maria lived and worked.

They cross-checked with the sex crimes unit. They followed every lead. They found nothing. The case went cold, just like Lori Tremblay’s murder 6 years earlier. The tourniquet had worked exactly as Shaw had planned. And now he knew he could get away with it. October 19th, 1993. 18 months after Maria’s murder. Anthony Shaw had been working as a telephone repairman in a Houston neighborhood when he spotted her.

A 14-year-old girl named Thelma Jansky. Shaw became obsessed. He began tracking her movements, learning her schedule, noting when she would be home alone. On that October day, Shaw knew Thelma would be by herself. He didn’t drive to her house. He walked, careful to avoid being seen in his company van. He wore a disguise, baggy clothes, surgical gloves, sunglasses, and a bandana over his face.

When Thelma walked through her front door, Shaw was waiting. He attacked her immediately, binding her hands with duct tape, wrapping tape around her head. Then he raped her as she screamed and cried. But something was different this time. Shaw didn’t kill Thelma Jansky. After the assault, he simply fled the scene on foot, leaving her alive but traumatized.

She couldn’t identify her attacker because of the disguise. Shaw would later claim that this attack proved he could beat the evilness by assaulting a woman without killing her. As if showing restraint by not murdering a child was some kind of accomplishment. The attack on Thelma wasn’t connected to the previous murders.

Different method of entry, different location, no tourniquet, no death. Shaw had gotten away with it again. And he wasn’t done. August 7th, 1994, around noon. 9-year-old Diana Rabbola left her home in the Houston Heights neighborhood. Her mother, Virginia Piedra, had asked her to walk to the local grocery store to buy sugar.

It was just a few blocks away. Diana had made the trip many times before. She was a happy child wearing a black Halloween T-shirt on that summer day. The store employees saw her come in, buy the sugar, and leave. She walked out the front door and began her short journey home. She never made it. A neighbor noticed a van cruising the area that day.

 It circled the block multiple times as if the driver was looking for something or someone. Anthony Shaw was 32 years old now, married with two daughters of his own. To the outside world, he was a devoted father, a telephone technician, a musician who played in local bands. Inside, the monster was hungry again. Shaw saw Diana walking home alone, a 9-year-old girl carrying a bag of sugar.

He pulled his van alongside her and did what predators do. He lured her in. What happened next was unspeakable. Shaw bound Diana’s hands and feet with duct tape. He beat her severely. He sexually assaulted her. And then he pulled out his tourniquet. This one made from rope with a bamboo stick attached and strangled the life out of a child.

She was 9 years old. The next morning, August 8th, 1994, Diana’s body was found on a loading dock behind a vacant building near North Loop West. She was nude except for that black Halloween T-shirt. The tourniquet was still wrapped around her neck, the bamboo stick still attached. “It was profoundly disturbing to me,” Officer Arturo Mejia of the Houston Police Department later said.

“I had a young family and two little girls myself. Who could do this?” Investigators immediately recognized the similarities to Maria del Carmen Estrada’s murder 2 years earlier. Same city, same method. A ligature with a stick attached wrapped around the victim’s neck. Houston had a serial killer. A task force was formed to find the monster responsible.

But despite their best efforts, detectives couldn’t connect the dots. The only lead was that neighbor’s description of a van circling the neighborhood. The case went cold. Diana Rabbola’s mother was left to grieve a daughter she would never see grow up. Years later, she would have another daughter. She named her Diana after the sister she would never know.

July 6th, 1995, late afternoon, 16-year-old Dana Sanchez was using a payphone in North Houston. She was trying to get to her boyfriend’s house, but didn’t have a ride. She seemed frustrated, agitated. A van pulled up. The driver, a friendly-looking man in his early 30s, offered her a ride. Dana accepted. Anthony Shaw was 33 years old now.

He’d killed three times and assaulted at least one other victim. Each time, he’d gotten away with it. Each time, the urge had gone quiet for a while before building again. But this time would be different. As Shaw drove, he began touching Dana. She objected, demanded he stop. Like Maria del Carmen Estrada 3 years earlier, Dana fought back.

And like Maria, Dana lost. Shaw pulled her into the back of his van. He removed her clothes. He pulled out his tourniquet. This one made from rope with a toothbrush attached. He wrapped it around her throat and twisted until Dana Sanchez was dead. Shaw drove to a field in North Harris County and dumped Dana’s body.

She lay there for a week, decomposing in the Texas heat, while her family desperately searched for her. Then Shaw did something that would later be described as classic serial killer behavior. Something that revealed his need for control, his craving for attention. He called a television station. On July 13th, 1995, Barbara Magana Robertson, an assignment editor at KPRC-TV in Houston, answered her phone.

“I have a tip for you,” the caller said. “There’s a serial killer on the loose. Robertson initially thought it was a prank. She got calls like this all the time. People claiming Elvis was alive, calling from diners across Texas. But this caller was different. He began giving detailed directions to a location in North Harris County.

He described exactly how a body would be positioned, which way it would be facing, what condition it would be in. When sheriff’s deputies responded to the location, they found exactly what the caller had described. The decomposed body of a young woman with a yellow rope wrapped around her neck. A knot made by a toothbrush.

Donna Sanchez had been found. And the man who’d led police to her body was the same man who’d put her there. The call haunted Barbara Robertson for years. It was years before I stopped walking into a crowd and listened for the sound of his voice, she later recalled. She’d had to change shifts, drive different cars, use different entrances at work, because somewhere out there, the caller was watching.

And police were no closer to catching him. While Houston police searched for a serial killer, Anthony Shore continued living his double life. By 1995, his first marriage to Gina Lynn Wooley had ended. She divorced him. And Shore had been granted custody of their two daughters, Amber and Tiffany. What happened next is almost too horrific to describe.

Behind closed doors, in a house where windows were nailed shut and cockroaches infested the walls, Anthony Shore began sexually abusing his own daughters. It started when Tiffany was around 10 years old. Shore would drug the girls with laced hot chocolate, then assault them while they were unconscious. He forced them to dress in provocative clothes.

He made them play Rock Band, >> [clears throat] >> dancing around while he watched. He would expose himself while they slept. I would wake up and see him exposing himself in our bedroom while touching himself, Tiffany later recalled. I was like 10 years old. Tiffany sank into a deep depression. She attempted suicide.

Her father’s only reaction was anger and judgment. The abuse continued for years. In 1995, one of Gina Wooley’s friends reported Shore for child endangerment after noticing the nailed-shut windows. Child Protective Services investigated, but sided with Shore. He was too charming, too persuasive. The case was closed.

In 1997, Shore married again. This time to a woman named Amy Lynch. He sent his daughters to live with his mother in California so he could enjoy his honeymoon. That summer, while staying with her grandmother, Tiffany finally broke down and told her aunt Gina what had been happening. Amber confirmed everything.

In October 1997, Anthony Shore was arrested for child molestation. The charges should have ended him. Two counts of indecency with a child, his own daughters as victims, but the Texas justice system failed spectacularly. Shore pled no contest and received 8 years of probation. No jail time. He was required to register as a sex offender and provide a DNA sample.

Shore stalled as long as he could, but by fall 1998, his DNA was in the state database. The clock was now ticking on the tourniquet killer. But it would take another 5 years for anyone to connect the dots. In 2000, Houston homicide detectives pulled the Maria del Carmen Estrada case from cold storage. New DNA technology had emerged since her 1992 murder.

They sent the fingernail clippings, preserved all those years, to be retested. The results came back with a full genetic profile of her killer. But when they ran it through the database, nothing came up. The sample sat waiting for a match. Then, in 2002, disaster struck. A state audit revealed that the Houston DNA lab was in shambles.

Technicians had misinterpreted data. They were poorly trained. Records were incomplete. The lab was shut down completely. Samples from hundreds of cases, including Maria del Carmen Estrada’s fingernails, were sent to outside laboratories for retesting. It took until October 2003 for those results to come back.

And when they did, investigators finally had a name. Anthony Allen Shore. The DNA under Maria’s fingernails matched the sample Shore had provided when he registered as a sex offender in 1998. For 5 years, his genetic fingerprint had been sitting in a database while investigators searched for a killer. If the Houston DNA lab had been functioning properly, Shore might have been caught years earlier.

Instead, he’d walked free, living his life while four families grieved daughters they would never see again. On October 24th, 2003, Houston police arrived at 352 Freeport to arrest Anthony Allen Shore. He was 41 years old, working as a tow truck driver, still on probation for molesting his daughters. He didn’t resist. He didn’t run.

He simply smiled, as if he’d been waiting for this moment all along. The interrogation began at 4:53 p.m. on October 24th, 2003. Detectives placed Shore in an interview room and confronted him with the DNA evidence. They told him they knew he’d killed Maria del Carmen Estrada. They had scientific proof. Shore was calm, cooperative, looking the detectives right in the eye.

As one investigator later noted, he showed no signs of deception. That’s very rare. For hours, Shore denied everything. He spoke pleasantly, answered questions, but admitted nothing. Then, around 11:50 p.m., something changed. Sergeant John Swaim entered the room. Shore looked at him and said something that would chill investigators to the bone.

What would you say if I gave you these cases and a couple of bonuses? Swaim asked what he meant. Shore leaned forward. Well, I have this evilness in me, and I think if I tell you what I’ve done, that it will release that evilness, and I would feel better. For the next several hours, Anthony Shore confessed to everything.

He told them about Maria del Carmen Estrada, about Diana Rebola, about Donna Sanchez. He told them about the anonymous call to KPRC, how he’d watched Barbara Robertson through the studio window while she took down his directions. And then, he gave them a bonus. Shore confessed to a murder detectives had never connected to the others.

A 14-year-old girl named Lori Lee Tremblay, killed in September 1986, 17 years earlier. I hurt my finger while murdering Tremblay, Shore explained. That’s why I switched to a tourniquet. He described each murder in clinical detail, speaking as if he were watching someone else commit the crimes. He showed no emotion, no remorse.

I have crazy thoughts, he told detectives. I have these sick, sick notions. When they asked why he did it, Shore gave an answer that still haunts investigators. Because I could. Shore’s trial began in late October 2004. Prosecutor Kelly Siegler, known as one of the most aggressive attorneys in Texas, led the case.

Despite Shore’s confessions to four murders, prosecutors chose to try him only for Maria del Carmen Estrada’s death. That case had the strongest DNA evidence. The fingernail scrapings that had finally brought him down. >> [clears throat] >> The defense admitted Shore killed Estrada, but argued he was guilty of murder, not capital murder.

They claimed the confession was coerced. It didn’t matter. The evidence was overwhelming. Shore’s daughters, Amber and Tiffany, took the stand and testified about years of sexual abuse. His ex-wives and former girlfriends testified that he drugged and raped them. Witnesses described his pattern of violence, his obsession with control.

Selma Janski, the only victim who survived, faced her attacker in court and identified him as the man who’d broken into her home and raped her in 1993. The jury deliberated briefly before returning their verdict. Guilty of capital murder. Then came the punishment phase. This was when the jury learned the full extent of Anthony Shore’s crimes.

 The four murders, the multiple rapes, the sexual abuse of his own children, the taped confession where he calmly described strangling women and girls with homemade tourniquets. Against the advice of his attorneys, Shore asked for the death penalty. “It is where he is,” his lawyers told the jury, “and it is what he thinks should happen to him based upon how he has lived his life.

” After less than 1 hour of deliberations, the jury agreed. On November 15th, 2004, Anthony Allen Shore was sentenced to death. Shore spent over 13 years on death row at the Polunsky Unit in Livingston, Texas. During that time, he filed appeal after appeal. He claimed ineffective counsel. He claimed undiagnosed brain damage from a 1981 car accident.

He claimed his constitutional rights had been violated. Every appeal was denied. In 2017, as his execution date approached, Shore made one final attempt to delay his death. He claimed to have information about other murders, including the 1998 killing of a college student named Melissa Trotter. Another death row inmate, Larry Ray Swearingen, had been convicted of Trotter’s murder.

Shore claimed he was the real killer. Investigators found evidence that Shore and Swearingen had concocted the scheme together. Documents about the Trotter case were discovered in Shore’s cell, written in handwriting that matched Swearingen’s. Texas Rangers interviewed Shore. He couldn’t provide accurate details about the crime.

He recanted his confession. He tried again with two more murders, claiming he’d killed a woman named Aurora Rojas and another victim near the notorious Texas Killing Fields. Both claims fell apart under investigation. Shore was simply trying to buy time. His sister, Gina, believed there were more victims.

 “I know in my heart, without a doubt, that there are more,” she said. “There had to have been other girls.” But Shore denied it. “There are no others,” he would insist. To this day, no one knows if that’s true. January 18th, 2018, the Huntsville Unit, Huntsville, Texas. Anthony Allen Shore was escorted to the death chamber at 6:15 p.m.

Outside, protesters gathered, though not for Shore specifically. They were protesting the death penalty itself. No family members came to witness his execution. His daughter, Tiffany, had classes that day. “Maybe I’ll see a movie later if I have free time,” she said. His victims’ families were there. After 13 years of appeals, 13 years of waiting, they would finally see justice served.

Shore was strapped to the gurney, arms extended, IVs inserted into his veins. A white sheet was pulled up to his chest. The warden asked if he had any final words. Shore looked towards the witness room and began to speak. “I’d like to take a moment to say I’m sorry. No amount of words could ever undo what I’ve done to the family of my victims.

 I wish I could undo the past. It is what it is.” He paused, then added something that surprised everyone in the room. “God bless all of you. I will die with a clear conscience. I made my peace. There are no others.” He wished happy birthday to someone named Barbara Carroll. He thanked those who had helped him over the years.

 Then he said, “God bless everybody until we meet again.” He looked at the warden. “I’m ready, warden.” The lethal injection began. >> [clears throat] >> Pentobarbital flowed through the IV line. Suddenly, Shore’s eyes went wide. “It really does burn,” he said. “Ooh wee, I can feel that.” His eyes closed. His breathing slowed, then stopped.

13 minutes after the injection began, at 6:28 p.m., Anthony Allen Shore was pronounced dead. He was 55 years old. He was the first person executed in the United States in 2018. Outside the prison, Andy Kahan, the Houston crime victims advocate, spoke to reporters. “Anthony Allen Shore’s reign of terror is officially over,” he said.

“There’s a reason we have the death penalty in the state of Texas, and Anthony Shore is on the top of the list. This has been a long, arduous journey that has taken over 20 years for the victims’ families. The case of Anthony Allen Shore is about many things. It’s about Lori Lee Tremblay, who was 14 years old when she accepted a ride from a man she thought she could trust.

About Maria del Carmen Estrada, who was just trying to walk to work when a monster crossed her path. About Diana Rabbola, who was 9 years old, sent to the store by her mother to buy sugar, and never came home. About Dana Sanchez, who just wanted a ride to her boyfriend’s house. Four women and girls, four lives stolen, four families destroyed.

It’s about a criminal justice system that failed at every turn. A DNA lab so poorly run that a killer’s genetic fingerprint sat unmatched for 5 years. A CPS investigation that sided with a child molester because he was too charming to be dangerous. A probation sentence for a man who sexually abused his own daughters.

It’s about the 11-year gap between Shore’s first murder and the DNA match that finally caught him. How many other victims might there have been in those years? How many women and girls crossed paths with the tourniquet killer and lived to tell about it? Shore always insisted there were no others. “There are no others,” he said with his dying breath.

But his sister, Gina, doesn’t believe it. And neither do many investigators. It’s about the daughters who survived, Amber and Tiffany Shore, who endured years of sexual abuse at their father’s hands, who testified against him in court, who had to grow up knowing their father was a serial killer. Tiffany went on to give interviews for documentaries, telling her story to anyone who would listen.

She wanted people to understand what it was like to live with a monster. “He wasn’t evil-looking or evil-acting,” retired Detective D.D. Shirley said. “But inside, he was the example of evil.” His sister, Gina, visited him in prison once. She asked him why he did it. Shore’s answer was simple. “Because I could.

” That’s the most chilling part of the tourniquet killer’s story. Not the murders themselves, as horrific as they were. Not the tourniquet, that medieval instrument of torture he used to slowly strangle the life out of his victims. It was the fact that Anthony Allen Shore looked like everyone else. He worked a regular job. He played in bands.

 He raised children. He was charming, talented, meticulous. And underneath all of it, he was a monster waiting to emerge. “All my girlfriends were in love with him because he was so charismatic and cute,” his sister, Laurel, once recalled. “But he also had a dark side.” That dark side claimed at least four lives. It traumatized countless others.

It haunted the city of Houston for nearly two decades. And in the end, it was a few cells scraped from under a victim’s fingernails that brought Anthony Shore to justice. Maria del Carmen Estrada fought back. She scratched her attacker, collecting his DNA, leaving evidence that would take 11 years to identify.

 She couldn’t save herself, but she helped catch her killer. Rest in peace, Lori Lee Tremblay. You were 14 years old. Rest in peace, Maria del Carmen Estrada. You were 21 years old. Rest in peace, Diana Rabbola. You were 9 years old. Rest in peace, Dana Sanchez. You were 16 years old. Four lives cut short. Four families destroyed.

 One killer brought to justice. The tourniquet killer is dead. But the questions he left behind will linger forever. Were there really no others? Did Anthony Shore take secrets to his grave? And how many more monsters are out there right now hiding in plain sight waiting for their next victim? These are the questions that keep investigators awake at night.

And they may never be answered. If you made it to the end of this video, thank you for watching. This is True Crime Matter and these stories matter. >> [clears throat] >> Subscribe if you haven’t already and I’ll see you in the next one.