Young Nebraska mother Jacqueline Marr arrives at her boyfriend's home on the morning of November two, twenty sixteen, to check on him because he abruptly stopped texting her the previous evening.

At bedtime, she sees his six year old son waiting on the front porch, but school has already started.

Without thinking, she moves into mother mode and reassures him that she'll take him to school.

Curiously, his dad must have gone to work, leaving the little boy behind.

Even more disturbing is the boy's pallid complexion.

Are you feeling sick?

She asks him, with his chin lowered and eyes looking dolefully up at her.

He slowly shakes his head to the left and right.

As she takes her eyes off the boy and glances at the house and property.

Jacqueline's eyes widen at the sight before her.

Near a red Dodge charger are air compressors she's never seen before.

Her gaze darts to the ground, where a pair of boots lies abandoned, a flashlight discarded near by, and then the chilling realization sets in the dark splotches staining the ground resemble blood mark pounding Jacqueline's mind races with questions, am I awake?

Where is Craig?

And is he okay?

She shrugs off the uneasiness and tries to put on a brave face for the little boy she's about to deliver to school, But she knows something terrible has happened.

Welcome to Sword and Scale Nightmares, True Crime for Bedtime Where nightmare begins Now?

The classroom buzzes with the energy of children excited to learn.

The grade school teacher stands in front of the room, preparing herself for the usual day chatter, bathroom breaks, snack times, spelling in the occasional potty accident.

As the more settles into a rhythm, Craig Kubick's son enters the classroom late, his usually bright eyes covered with an unsettling sadness or is it fear?

A flicker of concern passes through her thoughts before she greets him with a warm smile.

Good morning, she says, kneeling to his eye level, how are you today?

The child's response is unexpected, starkly contrasting his usual cheerful demeanor.

My dad's dead, it blurts out.

The teacher's heart skips a beat, her mind racing to make sense of this sudden revelation.

What do you mean, sweetheart, she asks, gently, guiding him to a quiet corner of the classroom.

Innocently, but at the same time heavily, he explains that someone killed his father.

The little boy also tells the teacher that there is blood on his father's boot and a flashlight.

Sensing the urgency, she takes him to the principal's office.

When questioned by the principle, he repeats the same information and also mentions a gun and an air compressor.

Unable to reach Craig and face with the possibility of his harm or injury, she calls the police to conduct a welfare check.

As the boy recounts the exact details, his words fall heavily on all the ears that hear them.

His dad, Craig Boomer Kubick, was the kind of guy who seemed to have a bit of everything in him, the rugged charm of a Nebraskan Midwestern farmer, the skilled hands of a craftsman, in the heart of a community pillar.

Born and raised in Emerson, Nebraska, Craig loved farming, helping out on the family farm alongside his dad, he learned the value of sweat equity and the satisfaction of fixing things with his own two hands, whether it was tinkering with tractors, repairing buildings, or diving into car mechanics.

Craig's nack for practical skills was evident even as a young boy.

Described as down to earth and genuine, he graduated from high school in nineteen ninety two and began building and repairing horse racetrack equipment and mastering the art of welding.

But Craig had a creative side too.

A lover of music, he played the piano and often loved to try his hand at guitar, hero to create his own rock music.

Yeah, I know, I know, it's not really writing music.

Calm down, struggling artists out there.

It's only going to get tougher with AI.

Beyond his personal pursuits, Craig was deeply connected to his community.

He often lent a hand in church projects or used as skill for altruism because he believed in giving back.

For all these reasons, he seemed to be a great catch for Jacqueline Marr, who hadn't seen him since seven pm the previous night.

At ten point thirty.

The following day, cops arrive at Craig's rural property just off of a highway.

The partially fenced in property faces a wide open field across from the road.

They turn in the gravel lane and can't see the mobile home at first because of the tree groves surrounding it.

Initially, it seems like a salvage yard.

Abandoned vehicles are contained within the fence.

Jacqueline and Craig's father are waiting to meet them.

Jacqueline is obviously distressed as she paces and wrings her hands.

She insists something is wrong.

Someone took him or something she claims.

Next, she leads pull a short distance and points to a large patch of blood, a flashlight covered in dried blood, and a path of blood drops forming a trail and leading to fresh tire tracks.

Police immediately tests for a ping with Craig's cell phone, but there's no match, but Jacqueline tells them that she has already viewed Craig's security footage showing two men leaving the property the day he went missing.

She remembers their presence from when she was there, and she remembers them being very angry.

It didn't take long for law enforcement to zero in on one of the men.

They recognized him from previous crimes as Andre Serber, who was friends with Brian Galvin Hernandez.

He was also dating Brian's sister, so he was known to be at the Galvin residence a lot.

As police drove past the Galvin property, Andrea's black GMC Yukon de Nali immediately stood out and they knew they were on the right track.

So officers pull into the home and no sooner do they start exiting the vehicle that they spot Brian outside.

Their eyes lock and his eyes widen just before he looks away and starts running.

Sensing this would be what would happen, the police are on high alert and are already poised for the chase.

Gaining on him, the police shouts stop right now and fall to the ground.

He complies and is easily apprehended and put in handcuffs.

When they ask him where is Andre, he quietly admits that he's in the house.

Brian and handcuffs, led by officers, approaches the home, knock and are greeted by a half naked Andre, clad only in a towel.

They open by telling him that they're looking for Craig Kubick.

You saw him yesterday, any idea where he is today?

All their questions are met with the same answer, I don't know.

While police are conducting a protective sweep, they find blood covered boots and pants.

They relay their findings to the officer, speaking to Andre, You're going to need to come with us, the officer says firmly, Uh, I'm gonna need to put some clothes on first, he snaps back.

Police allow him to escort them through the house.

They end up in the garage, where the deputy has already been told about the bloody clothing.

At first, Andrea walks right up to the pile of red stained clothing, now buzzing with flies.

He abruptly changes course and goes to another section of the garage, where he finds clothes soiled and dirt.

He decides that putting these on is a much better option than the blood stained ones across the way, so you know, he dons them on.

As officers navigate the Golvin residence, a shrill ring pierces the air, signaling an incoming call.

One officer, momentarily distracted from the investigation, answers the phone to hear Andre's mother on the line.

Her voice crackles with urgency as she relays information about her son's potential whereabouts that morning.

She describes their abandoned farmstead in rural Dixon County as if it's a ghost town.

Ends her message by saying Andrea was spotted there by a neighbor that morning.

In a motherly tone, she adds, and she thinks he was up to some mischief, she says.

She already phoned her brother, the rightful owner of the farm, and he's granting permission to go ahead and search the property and do what you need to do.

At this point, the investigation is moving fast, and deputies leave the Golvin residence and head for the Serber family farm.

We'll have this wrapped up in no time, they think.

Pulling into the dirt lane, the police look at each other in acknowledgment of missus Soerber's description.

They truly feel like they are in a no man's land there.

It is when deputy mutters, his voice barely audible over the hum of the engine as he points towards a silver Chevy Impala park near a dilapidated barn.

That's the one Andrea was driving when he had that accident, he remembers.

But it's what lies nearby that sends a chill down their spines.

A burn barrel emitting wisps of smoke, a red gas can, and a spray bottle tinged with what appears to be blood, but worse like a scene from the movie Texas Chainsaw Massacre or perhaps Fargo, bits of bloody flesh speckle the ground near the burn barrel.

Approaching cautiously, the officer's spy red droplets dotting the ground and lee to the Impala.

As they circle the vehicle, their eyes widen at the sight of blood spattered across the trunk area, giving every indication that it contains a significant but disturbing clue about what happened to Craig Kubick.

We need a warrant for that trunk, the deputy utters as he radios for backup.

Within moments, a telephonic warrant is secured, and the officers waste no time in prying open the trunk.

The metallic creak of the heavy lid echoes, and with bated breath, the police are sure of what's inside, their hearts pounding with anticipation.

They think to themselves, get ready for the stench of a dead body.

But they are amidst the darkness of the trunk lie only parts of a body, A severed human arm and le like they assume belonged to Craig.

But where's the rest of them?

Their training kicks in and they mask their horror with professional detachment as they secure the scene and await the forensic team.

After the Impala was impounded, investigators meticulously combed through every inch of the vehicle, determined to collect every shred of evidence that might shed light on the heinous crime.

Amidst the clutter of personal belongings and scattered debris, more traces of blood were unearthed.

They discovered two cell phones, one of which appeared to belong to Craig.

The mere presence of these devices hinted at a digital trail that could unravel the mystery.

Further in the glove box was confirmation that the vehicle belonged to Andrea, connecting him directly to the crime scene.

The most damning evidence, however, came from the DNA testing conducted on the blood samples elected from various locations.

The blood from the Impala the Kubick residents, the Serber family farm, as well as the boots and clothing found at the Galvin residence, well pointed to a consistent DNA profile matching that of Kubeck.

This irrefutable link tied the strands of the evidence together, painting a vivid picture of the events that had transpired.

Intriguingly, a knife was found near the Impala, and while Andre's fingerprints were found on the weapon, Golvin or Kubick's prince were absent, leaving detectives unclear about the role each one of them played and the motive that set the events into action.

One thing was for sure, though they needed to find the rest of Craig Kubick for the sake of his family, friends, and forensics.

Little did they realize that the answers they sought would soon surface in a shocking revelation, bringing to a chilling conclusion, a truth that would lie in the discovery of the rest of Craig's mutilated body.

On November fifth, twenty sixteen, Craig's lifeless body lay abandoned in a desolate ditch, waiting for someone to find it.

The mild temperatures occurring that fall in Nebraska contributed to the process of decomposition, yet it was shockingly clear whose body it was.

It was a scene straight out of Friday the thirteenth, with Craig's mutilated corpse presenting like an unfortunate animal crushed by the relentless force of a passing semi truck and then left to rot on the side of the road.

His severed arm and leg, eerily detached from his body, were tucked away in the trunk of Andrea's silver Impala back at the farm.

But here in plain sight officers can't believe their eyes.

Lying next to the body are several internal organs, making this an even more gruesome snapshot.

The head and torso are still intact, only without any limbs, and the remaining arm and leg have been thrown into the same ditch to the ones found in the car.

The cause of Craig's demise was not dismemberment, however much simpler.

He was shot in the back of the head before his body was disassembled.

After fully reviewing surveillance footage from Craig's property, they discovered the most damning evidence on it.

Two men, twenty five year old Andre and eighteen year old Brian could be viewed forcibly escorting Craig from his mobile home and later dragging his lifeless body across the ground towards a silver car.

The only thing the camera failed to catch was what happened in between, but the massive hole in his skull was leaving a bloody path along the way.

According to Craig's girlfriend, Jacqueline, she had witnessed these two men and had called them menacing and aggressive, and said that they had come to the home on the very day of Craig's murder.

On Friday, November four, twenty sixteen, both on Andre Serber and Brian Galvin were charged with the horrific slaughter of Craig Kubeck.

Brian would plead no contest, and Andrea pleaded not guilty, but a judge ruled that Andrea was not mentally competent to stand trial.

Andrea's competency became a widely swinging pendulum For the next three years.

He continually refused medications that might restore his mental health, and the state of his mind was in question, with or without treatment.

At one point, a psychiatrist simply didn't believe Andrea's portrayal of a psychotic person.

The doctor witnessed Andrea basically mimicking the symptoms of other patients.

When one patient started acting like a dog, barking responses instead of speaking them sounds familiar, by the way, and wagging his tongue, Andre decided to do this thing because I guess that's what crazy people do.

Right.

Then he noticed another patient garnering attention for his drooling, and he added drooling to the repertoire a little special flare every now and then.

You know, how this guy didn't get an Emmy is beyond me.

At one point, he started talking to himself about all of his children who were angels, literal angels, not just well behaved kids, but you know, they had wings and shit.

According to this expert, psychosis typically presents as a continuum of same symptoms, not an ever changing kaleidoscope of new variations.

The courtroom became a battleground of conflicting opinions, debates, testimonies, and expert psychiatrists, all arguing with each other and contributing to this push and pull game of courtroom tug of war.

Finally, in of twenty twenty, just before we all started panicking about you know, what Yet, another psychiatrist found him competent.

This time, his trial was set for August.

The trial took only six days and included dozens of witnesses and one hundred pieces of evidence.

It became clear that the motive was nothing more than bounty hunter style repossession of a car.

Yeah yeah, yeah yeah.

Basically, dog the bounty hunter went crazy.

That sounds pretty terrifying actually.

Anyway, whether Andre had sold the car, lent it, or given it to Craig, a red Dodge charger was the vehicle in dispute.

Andre wanted it back, so he brought Brian along for support and something that resulted in a bit of a deadly confrontation.

Stay away FROMGGS list, guys, it's a shit show.

Andrea claimed self defense, testifying that he and Brian went to Craig's place late at night to talk about picking up the charger he had sold to Craig.

Andre said Craig pulled a gun on him and he grabbed it, shooting Craig without meaning to.

When he realized Craig was dead, he panicked and took the body to the Server farm to cut it up and hide.

It sounds reasonable, I guess are you buying this?

Trial evidence showed that a knife with Andrea's fingerprints was found near the car containing Craig's severed arm and leg.

Craig's DNA was found inside Andrea's car, on his boots and a pair of pants.

The gun Andre claimed was Craig's was never found, and Andre claimed he threw it into a creak.

Another version of his story was that he and Brian went to get the Impala with the intention of taking Craig to the hospital, but then realized that he was dead, although the fatal bullet wound was below Craig's left ear, as if he was shot from behind.

The defense argued that Andre did commit the murder, but it couldn't have been premeditated because the cleanup was so sloppy.

It couldn't have been because he was an idiot or something.

The evidence just didn't make sense, they argued.

But what did make sense to the jury was that a little boy was left without a dad, a girlfriend without her partner, and parents without their son, and that's usually worth more than a Dodge Charger, at least to some people.

The village of eight hundred, in which Craig lived was buzzing with anticipation for the trial's verdict.

Everyone knew who Craig was, and everyone liked him.

The cashier of the only gas station in the area recalled seeing him and his little boy all the time.

One resident said nothing had compared to Craig Kubrick's death in more than forty five years.

Another remembered Craig fixing his car for free when he was in a pinch.

In exchange for the plea of now nineteen year old Brian Galvin, the state reduced his original charge of first degree murder.

Instead of seventy possible years in prison, he was given fifty to sixty for attempted murder and accessory to murder.

I don't think that ten years will make much of a difference to you.

Andre, on the other hand, was sentenced to life for first degree murder, even though the killers were convicted and put away for a very long time.

This case feels so unsatisfying.

It feels so empty, so meaningless.

A nightmare that didn't have to happen, and the nightmare continues for a little boy, Craig's little boy.

You will live an eternal, living nightmare.

The horrors of that tragic day etched into his mind because his dad is gone forever.

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Sweet Dreams and good Night,