I clicked on an email icon, and my heart sank further. There were messages to and from various email addresses, some with cryptic usernames that meant nothing to me. But the content was clear enough—he was sending these photos to someone, perhaps several people, and they were responding with instructions, payments, or comments that made my skin crawl. Each message was cold, transactional. Inhuman.

A particular thread stood out to me. I hesitated for a moment, my finger hovering over the mouse. Then I clicked. The emails were between Dererick and someone named “Handler47.” The tone of these emails was different—more direct, urgent. They discussed delivery schedules, payment arrangements, and, more chillingly, ‘new acquisitions.’