Post date: November 2, 2022

By Ashley Pierson

“No interest exists in the public consciousness as polarizing as true crime, creating content out of the prospect of personal tragedy is seen as morbid to some, and thrilling to others. I see it more so as an innate urge of human beings to strive to learn about the depravity of our kind; what truly separates the killer from the victim? Dedicating my existence to exploring such concepts seemed only sensible in the grand scheme of things, the cheap thrill of a blindly ignorant college experience couldn't match the adrenaline rush of being ‘her’, the one to expose the sinister perpetrators. By this logic, I can assume you would pin me as a classic internet sleuth, your traditional armchair detective, however, I like to think of myself as a bit more. That is why I am here today, sitting on the front porch of Mrs. Mallary Calkins, a woman whose history has led me straight to her.”

Lilliana “Corey” Mansfield was built for an environment in which consequences were benign, having parents in the alcohol industry do that to a young girl, inflating her solipsism syndrome with every fantasy her guardians funded. Yes, she was an egotist, but she was also a passionate creative who wanted nothing more than to be seen as the talented individual she knew she was.

iSearching through the many forums and archives surrounding a case can only achieve so much in the name of knowledge, sadly this was a conclusion she and her team of internet “partners” came to rather quickly. These were her closest companions, yet she had never even seen their faces. In what realm this constitutes “trust” is undiscovered to most, however, the sense of community she felt was something she could never satisfy in the physical world; these were her people and she knew it. She leads a troop of three: herself, Parker, and “Tiger”, a strange group of anonymous internet users with two tethers tying them all together, a passion for true crime, and time. After three months of conversing and fangirling over their favorite killers and ideas of false convictions, Corey grew fed up with the incompetence of others.

“Let's be real, our combined understanding of criminology could do what these ‘professionals’ do in half the time, they've all gone corporate anyways”

As her frustrations grew, so did her inability to control her ego. Money mixed with passion can be a dangerous thing. It wouldn't be long before the 19-year-old had a set-up fit to host an entire media team, she had all she needed to make a podcast, all but a story.

It wouldn't be long until one of the sidekicks stepped up, as Tiger soon sent a link that tipped them over the deep end.

“Young Connecticut Teen Mally French Found Floating in the Water Under Lovers Leap: The Story of her Discovery Will Shock You.”

“Cool, another suicide of an underperforming child prodigy”, Corey remarked in the chat log, clearly irked by the insignificance of such a story. It wasn't until the second link popped through, followed by a third, fourth, and fifth that she really locked in.

Five identical deaths, of five nearly identical girls, all taking place 10 years apart. Boxed as suicides, these reports were shoved into county records and purposely obscured from the public consciousness so as to not create distress.

“Gotta love a characteristically accurate alliteration…”, Parker remarked flippantly, “I can't personally say it would be my first geographical pick to ‘jump ship’, far too predictable.”

“There's no way this is a coincidence, but I also find it hard to believe someone has this much stamina,” Tigar interjected, finally providing context to his discovery, “This bridge monster would have to be like what, 80 now?”

“I would estimate mid 70’s, most serial killers start their hunts just after the 20-year mark” Corey loved knowing things, and this was her area of expertise.

For hours the team worked, looking through local newspapers, and any digital records they could find online. Yet there's only so much you can do with the recycled nature of the internet, unsubstantiated rumors and stories from sketchy papers were all to be found.

Internet safety was of major importance to Corey and was one of the main reasons she hid so much of herself online. However, she was also always uncomfortable by the prospect of her family's wealth, it was an inescapable facet of her existence she strived to separate herself from. So, to her friends, she was “Corey_897”, an only child from Charlestown in Boston; Simply put, her friends had no cognizance of her closeness to this case, a closeness she planned to take advantage of.

For the forcible future, her fate was sealed. Every day was spent taking the drive from Greenwich to Milford, a drive which her father’s 1985 Modena Spyder was perfectly suited for. The time was spent talking to locals, speaking with the town historian, flipping through microfilm records in the library, and studying the ecosystem of the citizens.

“The foundation of this town is its deep-rooted symbiotic relationship, the constant repetition, and monotony of day-to-day life seems to fill these people with comfort, rather than depression. It would be easy for a killer to blend in when all they would have to do is fake a smile.” Corey kept many audio logs of this sort throughout her research, she always felt that speaking her thoughts created a more authentic representation.

After each trip, reporting back to her friends involved complicated plots of claiming she gathered the information from a “connection”. There were even times she would upload accounts to anonymous pages, only to wait for the others to stumble across it as if she was not been pulling the strings all along. She kept logs of all of this for her podcast and clearly felt a sense of pride in her intellectual abilities.

It wasn't until she was able to get a hold of the local criminal records, which were suspiciously hard to access, that she found the profile she was after. At the time, a young adult woman was convicted of a violent attack on an 18-year-old high school classmate. The report was from 1972, which would make Miss Mallary Calkins a ripe 73 today. The report details how Calkin attempted to seriously harm her peer after a personal disagreement, and it wouldn't be long before more came to light. Corey cataloged how reluctant people were to answer questions regarding Calkins as if her name held some sort of power over their consciousness.

Not much is known about her before she arrived in the town however most suspected her extravagant father to be involved in some type of embezzlement scheme, though no one dared to ask. One thing was for certain however, Calkins was of a violent temper, and people avoided provoking her at any expense. Former classmates testified on behalf of her anger and pride, exposing that many of her victims were too afraid to press charges, instead keeping their heads down and moving forward. Having violent history does not translate to one being a ritualistic killer, however, Corey planned to expand this lead to its last breath.

“It's too obvious man, the killer is never the one you most expect, that's like directing 101.” Parker protested the next day

“It's almost like this isn't a movie…” Defend Tiger, though he continued “But that doesn't mean I'm sold. An 80-year-old woman killing teens? Really? I'm sorry but it seems much more believable that she was simply an annoying teenager with no control of her ego, rich people get away with stuff like this all the time”

“Something is off about her, I can just feel it, but we will all know soon enough I suppose.” With that, Corey signed off for the night, prepared for the next day's endeavors.

Sitting on the porch of the address she had found listed in the latest issue of the town white papers, Corey felt she had a solid plan.

“All killers need a motive, it's what defines their existence, but what motive other than her anger could be driving this woman? The best way to find out, meet with her directly, break down her walls, and expose her vulnerability. I have a knack for making people open up to me.”

It wouldn't be for another half hour that the star of the show would pull into her driveway. Once out of the car, he slowly hobbled to the trunk, pulling out three tan grocery bags branded with the corner store's logo. After finishing her play-by-play, Corey makes her first move.

“Let me help you with that ma’am!” she says springing off the porch, an audible gasp is heard over the sound of rocks moving underfoot.

“I'm sorry, really I didn't mean to startle you, I was just wondering if I could interview you for a school project.” After moments of silence, a light response is heard.

“Oh… well, no I think I would rather not, what did you say it was about exactly?”

“It's about the history of Lestworth Regional High School, you were part of the original graduating class were you not? It would really elevate my final if I could have testimony from someone who genuinely lived the history!”

Even though the muffles of her pocket, the microphone did not struggle to pick up the thick layers of false enthusiasm plastered all over her performance.

Silence again, only to be preceded by a conglomerate of footsteps and the shuffling of keys, Corey had made it in.

Quickly, she established yet another identity for herself, claiming to be Megan Shepard, an aspiring graphic designer who loved cats about as much as she loved her family. The lie went deep, and Calkins seemed to buy it. In all regards, she appeared to be a happy elderly woman who lived alone, occasionally going on tangential rants about her grand nephew; she had no children of her own.

The interview went on unremarkable, with no mentions of violence or murder, Corey growing more and more frustrated with the failure of her charm. She knew she had to press some buttons, and this was her only chance.

“You know,” She exclaimed in a melodramatic tone, expelling air in a lengthy gasp, “A few months back when this project was originally assigned, it was meant to be done with a partner”

“Oh I see, and why do you say this so sadly?”

“Well my partner, Mally French, she's no longer with us.” A deliberate pause is registered in the recording, with only the slow hum of the A.C. to break the tension, Corey was waiting for a reaction.

“Oh well, I see, yes that was a rather unfortunate horrible accident, just horrible. You know when I first…”

“Was it? An accident I mean, the bridge itself isn't even 200 feet tall, seems rather strange that such a location would be her choice to jump,” She pauses only to continue moments later, increasing in tone and pace, “Is it more or less tragic than the other five girls who have died in the same way? I would love to know how you feel about your work this time around. It seems a little sloppy don't you think, though I can give you a pass simply for your age.”

Miss Calkins can be heard babbling in the background, clearly perplexed by the accusations being leveled against her. The shuffling of chairs on hardwood can be heard before all goes quiet on Cory's end, though police reports show no signs of a struggle.

Mallary Calkins was not reported missing until three3 days later, her body was discovered floating in the shallow waters of Lovers Leap just mere hours after a search team was deployed. As of right now, a manhunt is still ensuing in the name of Corey Mansfield, if you have any information regarding her whereabouts please call the number in the description box below, as for me, this is all I have for this week's episode of “Catch a Killer”, I will see you soon with updates.