I was ten years old when the murders began. Even living in North Carolina, I had a sense of fear. My mom would let us play outside until dark, but when news coverage hit about the Atlanta child murders, we were no longer allowed to play outside late. I remember closely watching the news and feeling the dread when there was news of another child being killed. Our town newspaper printed all of the pictures of the children on the front page, so there was the dread of actually seeing the faces of children who were at or around my age. Back then, it was rare for children to be killed, so this was a big deal in our area. When Wayne Williams was caught, it mystified me even more, because I had never heard of a black serial killer. To this day, the story still interests me because of the feelings that I felt during this incident. On one hand, I wonder if Wayne Williams will ever admit to killing these children; then on the other hand, I question if there are other killers involved.