THE FOLLOWING IS ONE OF THE FINAL EXCERPTS OF "CHASING THE MAGGOT MAN" BY EX-AGENT JAKUB BARTOSZ.

--File 015: "Chasing the Maggot Man: The Truth"--

There is a reason I decided to publish all of my bullshit ramblings and memories from this case as a book... and there's a reason I was allowed to. It's time I came clean, although frankly, I waited a long time to do it.

I'm not exactly considered a stable source of information by the Bureau anymore.

To the guys I worked with in the field, I'm the unlucky asshole that cracked. That's the real truth in all this. In the end, I didn't make it past Grantham's' final ruling. My mind couldn't do it. I fell apart.

In my line of work, you deal with a lot of different scumbags, and you do it often. Back then, I'd come to expect certain things out of the guys we dragged into the interrogation rooms. They all do the same sort of things, and as someone who dealt with these assholes, I- like so many others- developed a rhythm for getting them to crack.

All these stupid fucking losers think they're the hottest shit since sliced bread. These serial killers think they're smarter than God. In their eyes, these psychopaths think they've got some answer to the universe that no one else can crack, some thing that makes the darkest of insanities not only acceptable, but godlike. Ask nearly every single one of these lucid monsters, and they'll tell you they're smarter than all the rest.

The reality is that these fuckers are barely above average at best in the IQ department, and the second you make 'em realize it, that's when they fall to pieces. When you pull out every single trick you laid, every trapped they stepped fully into, they realize they've been had, and all along, they weren't the "chosen one" of Satan's elite. Crack that stupid glass mirror that they're desperately trying to look into to hide the truth about themselves, and they'll dance to whatever tune you want to play.

Except for Grantham.

Grantham broke every rule and understanding I had in regards to evil. He did not give two hits that we caught him. He did not answer a goddamned question, did not rise to a single attack, did not take any bait we offered him. He was wholly unsurprised by our methods of tracking him, as if he'd known it all along and had simply been using the most of his time before getting caught. Grantham thought as little of himself as we did, and one day, I walked into that room, looked into that monster's eyes, and I saw something looking back. Grantham didn't care about us, because he was answering to something else.

I imagine half of you, if not more, have just dropped the book and said "He's fuckin' nuts". You wouldn't be the only ones. Pretty sure this book's just gettin' published because the publishers are aiming to work the "Maggot Man broke the FBI Agent in Charge of His Case" angle. It'd be the smart thing to do.

The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

I looked into Jake Grantham's eyes, and I realized on that final day that he did not give two flying shits about me, the judge, the jury, or even my own God. This is what got me removed from the case, in the end. This was the beginning of the real spiral.

I'd been obsessed with the case for a long time, basically since it was handed to me. My days were totally and entirely wrapped up in trying to figure this guy out so I could catch him. When he was finally caught, there was this sigh of relief in everyone who knew me, because the general consensus was that, at last, I'd let it go.

I didn't. If anything, I dug in harder.

I lost everything to this obsession. I lost my wife, my kids, and eventually, I lost my job, because I just couldn't let it go. I couldn't let him go.

I followed the quest for answers back to [REDACTED], the town where the fucker grew up, and where we finally caught him. I got answers- some, anyway- but they weren't the ones the Bureau wanted, or even asked for. To my colleagues, they were the raving answers of a lunatic.

They wouldn't listen to me. Maybe no one will. You'll close this book and sigh over "another life ruined" by the Maggot Man. I don't care- I have to say it. There's something dark and insidious lurking in that town. Only a few folks would so much as hint at it to me- there was this old Preacher that was on a hell of a mission to root it out and eliminate whatever it was.

He hasn't succeeded, unfortunately. He sends me the occasional letter. He's coming up on 86, the bastard, and he's got a protege now, some young kid who's following in his footsteps.

Something thrives in that town, something Grantham found, reached out to, and made a deal with. I told the Bureau he didn't work alone, that he had to have some kind of group behind him, and they recommended me to a mental hospital.

"There's no evidence to suggest it," they said.

"What about those damned games?" I said. "They don't fit to Grantham. We never figured them out. Why the fuck would he leave them there?"

"You're supposed to to be the expert on the Maggot Man," they said. "You tell us."

I tried to tell 'em, but they wouldn't listen. I tried to tell them that the shadows ran deep in [REDACTED]. Tried to tell them that the capture of Grantham hadn't done anything to ease the fears of the people living there. Tried to tell them that this wasn't the end. Grantham isn't finished.

They didn't listen.

My superior let me go shortly after. Said I got too close, took it too personal, and I wasn't capable of separating myself anymore. I'd lost everything to this case; the only way I could try to rebuild was if I was forced to drop the case.

Joke's on them. One day, someone's gonna come looking for answers, the kind of answers that old Bartosz has, and I'll be ready for you.

PUBLISHER'S NOTE: While Ex-Agent Bartosz's reputation and involvement in the tragedies surrounding the Maggot Man are commendable and deserve both admiration and respect, it is not the desire of the Publishers to stand by Bartosz's claims of some supernatural evil behind the very tangible, very real crimes that Grantham committed. While we aim to publish Bartosz's entire, mostly unedited account of the Maggot Man murders, which he led, we do not ourselves agree with Bartosz's stance on the paranormal.

It is a truth that Jake Grantham committed heinous acts of horrific crimes against humanity, but he is very much a mortal man, and he has been caught. By the time this memoir is published, he will be well on his way to being executed.

There are no "deep shadows" that Bartosz speaks of- only heroes who sacrificed everything to catch a man who bore hell itself on his soul.