Chapter 1: The Legend of Camp Blood
The following is a transcript of an interview conducted by Lieutenant Robert Perkins of the Crystal Lake Police Department on the morning of Friday, June 13, 1980. The subject is Pamela Voorhees.
[Unintelligible]
Lieutenant Perkins: Please, have a seat, Pamela. I’m sorry to pull you away like this. Were you in town for errands?
Pamela Voorhees: I was gathering supplies for camp. Those kids, they eat so much, you wouldn’t believe!
Lieutenant Perkins: Right? They sure have an appetite.
Pamela Voorhees: [chuckling] You have no idea. It’s non-stop! And—don’t tell Steve—I let them sneak an extra treat now and then; they’re such little angels.
Lieutenant Perkins: I’m sure. [Unintelligible] We brought you here because…there’s been an incident at the camp…
Pamela Voorhees: Oh? What’s happened?
[Silence.]
Lieutenant Perkins: Well, Pam… [There’s] no easy way to tell you this. [Unintelligible] I’m just going to come right out and say it…your boy, Jason, he’s missing.
Pamela Voorhees: [unintelligible] what do you mean, missing? I left him with those lovely kids; they’re very diligent.
Lieutenant Perkins: He was last seen during a swimming activity…
Pamela Voorhees: He was swimming?? He’s not—
Lieutenant Perkins: We believe he may have drowned.
[Silence]
Lieutenant Perkins: Pamela?
Lieutenant Perkins: Hello?
[Unintelligible.]
Lieutenant Perkins: Do you need a moment?
Recording ends.
“Tonight on Unresolved Mysteries, we dive into the dark legend of Camp Blood and its haunting impact on Crystal Lake and its people. I’m Kelsey Sampson—and maybe you can help us find the truth behind the myth.”
My crew groaned in unison, and I dropped the mic from my face with a sigh of exasperation.
“We can't use that, Kelse,” my producer, Jeremy, said, stepping out from behind the camera with that smug look he knew drove me crazy.
“It’s not my fault you guys never replaced the placeholder,” I shrugged. We were filming outside a deserted roadside diner just a few miles from town proper. It was past midnight, and Jeremy thought filming the intro here would give us “great atmosphere.”
“So…should I take it from the top?” I asked, already dreading a redo.
“No, keep going. We’ll dub in the ending once we come up with something better.” I raised an eyebrow, barely holding back a laugh. We were a real powerhouse team. After a pause, I started again, already picturing how it would all cut together.
My opening monologue would set the tone: “It was Friday, June 13, 1980, when ‘Camp Blood’ became a name that would haunt Crystal Lake. Pamela Voorhees, a single mother working as the camp cook, was trying to make ends meet for herself and her son, Jason. But just three weeks after camp opened, tragedy struck.” From here, I imagined we’d cut to a talking head—maybe the current sheriff or someone who knew her well.
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The sheriff’s line would be something like, “Jason was allowed to join in on camp activities—kind of like a ‘babysitter situation,’ you know?” I’d add voice-over, jumping in with context and color to fill in the gaps. “Then-Deputy Sheriff Robert Perkins was the first to arrive on the scene,” I’d explain, “and he knew Pamela well.”
“She was a fine lady; everyone loved her,” the sheriff would say with a cough. “Jason was about…fifteen or so? She sheltered him something fierce; to this day, I don’t understand why she never told anyone he couldn’t swim.”
“During that day’s swimming activities, Jason disappeared. Witnesses last saw him in the water, but he was quickly lost from view.” I’d continue, “It was assumed he drowned. The police were called, and Pamela was told.” In my mind, I saw it cut with stills of Pamela, including that one hauntingly normal-looking photo of her that we’d zoom in on as the sheriff describes her character. “I’ll never forget her face. She went blank for a moment, then pure rage took over. Her eyes were wide, and her smile even wider; a simple picture, made ominous with a chilling music score.”
Then, I’d prompt the viewers to imagine themselves in Pamela’s shoes: “Pamela Voorhees has just been told that her only child drowned—while no one was watching.” I’d let that sit, pausing for effect. “How would you feel? What would you do? Would you…resort to murder?” Newspaper headlines would flash across the screen, hammering home the horror.
The next shot would cut to those infamous headlines:
8 DEAD AT CAMP MASSACRE
GRIEVING MOTHER SLAUGHTERS 8
CAMP KILLER BEHEADED
Fueled by grief and rage, Pamela Voorhees returned to camp after hearing of her son’s drowning. She proceeded to stab, bludgeon, and hack her way through eight camp counselors that night—while the children slept. I continued, “Pamela was closing in on her ninth victim when she was killed by her target, head counselor Alice Hardy. Eight people, one as young as seventeen, all killed by a mother avenging her supposedly dead child.”
Next, we’d reveal our “Unresolved Mysteries exclusive”: a man with police connections contacted us, claiming he had a story to tell. “He was alive,” this shadowed figure would tell us, voice distorted. “Jason washed up on shore, barely alive.”
“So he didn’t drown?” I’d ask.
“Not a chance! I took him to the hospital myself,” he’d reply.
“But the official story was that Pamela killed those counselors in a grief-fueled rage over her son’s death. If what you say is true, someone lied.”
“They did.”
“But why?”
“Shame. Pure embarrassment. He got away from me, you see? He saw it, you understand? All of it.”
The show’s pace would slow as I set up the next segment: “If this were the end of our story, that’d be one thing. But five years later, death returned to Crystal Lake. This time, the killings wouldn’t stop at just eight.”
A final newspaper headline would flash across the screen.
SURVIVOR FOUND MURDERED
“Alice Hardy became a recluse after the Camp Blood massacre—understandably. No one was surprised it took over a week for her headless body to be discovered in her home. It was Friday, August 13, 1985, five years to the day since the massacre. And it was only the beginning of a three-day spree that would shock the nation.” I continued, explaining how two survivors, Tommy and Trish Jarvis, then twelve and seventeen, escaped with their lives. “Tommy claimed he killed the assailant to save his sister, but the police never found the body. To this day, he insists it was Jason Voorhees who attacked them.”
Then, the sheriff’s grim face would appear again. “The fact we never found the body is no secret; it’s in the report.” He’d scowl. “Let’s be clear: Jason Voorhees drowned in 1980. This notion he might be out there—some backwoods psycho—it’s harmful to the people of my town.”
As we wrapped up the segment, I’d add, “We’ll hear from locals, a criminologist, and the oft-forgotten surviving witness: Ginny Field. For the first time, Tommy Jarvis’s daughter, Tracy, will share her story. But it’s Tommy’s last public statement from 1995 that sticks with us.”
The screen would cut to black, with his voice playing over it: “Jason is still out there. Call it trauma or PTSD if you want, but I know he’s out there.”
Jeremy’s voice cut through my thoughts. “Alright, folks, let’s pack it up and call it a night. Big day tomorrow.” He announced it loud enough to wake the ghosts of Crystal Lake. Our crew was small—just the three of us. Levi was our camera guy, a film school grad who always talked like he was one shot away from Hollywood. A little pretentious, maybe, but a good guy overall.
“How far are we from Crystal Lake?” Levi asked no one in particular.
“About ten miles,” I replied.
“Maybe we should just drive there now?”
“Jeremy already booked the rooms.”
“Oh. Man, I’m hyped up after hearing all that!”
“You’re serious?”
“Totally. Camp Blood is my ‘rabbit-hole case.’”
“Your…what now?”
“People like me, into true crime, always have that one case they can’t let go of. The one they get lost in, chasing theories, looking for leads.”
I stifled an eye roll. He means well. He means well. He means well, I repeated to myself, a quick mantra to keep from snapping. When Jeremy shouted that everything was loaded up, we piled into the van and made the five-minute drive to the roadside inn. Before heading into my room, I took a long look at the woods surrounding us, letting Tommy’s words echo in my mind.
Jason is still out there.