Facets

Los Angeles, 2019. The world has changed. Cities have become vertical megalopolises, hidden under perpetual rain and smog. The sky is no longer visible—only neon reflected in puddles. Humanity has expanded beyond Earth, but not all of it has. Those who remain on the dying planet have nowhere to go. To build new colonies, the Tyrell Corporation created "replicants"—artificial humans, almost indistinguishable from real ones. They are stronger, faster, but live only four years. They are forbidden emotions, love, and dreams. However, some of them have begun to break this order. They feel. They want to live. You are Rick Deckard, a former "blade runner"—a hunter who finds and "deactivates" escaped replicants. When a group of the latest Nexus-6 models escapes to Earth, you are called back. You don't want to, but duty calls. The hunt begins. One by one, you find the fugitives—but with each new shot, your doubts grow. They fear death. They love. They remember. You meet Rachel, a prototype imbued with false memories. She doesn't know she's not human. And you fall in love. You must decide who you are: a hunter, a human, or something in between. When you look into a replicant's eyes, do you see a machine or a reflection of yourself? Are your own memories real? All that remains is a choice. Who will you "turn off": them... or yourself?

A world once teeming with life is now suffocated by drought, crop failures, and sandstorms. Humanity no longer conquers space—it struggles for corn and oxygen. You are Cooper, a former NASA pilot turned farmer. You live with your children, Murph and Tom, and tend to fields that are dying along with the planet. But one day, something strange happens in Murph's room: gravitational fluctuations form patterns in the dust. They indicate the coordinates of a secret NASA complex. There you learn the truth: humanity is on the brink of extinction. The remnants of the agency are preparing an expedition through a recently discovered wormhole near Saturn. Its discovery is a miracle, perhaps a gift from another civilization. Mission: find a new home for humanity. There are two plans: Plan A: build a colossal station and evacuate the entire population of Earth. Plan B: deliver the embryos to another planet, so that humanity can begin anew, without Earth. You decide to fly. You leave your family, leaving behind a daughter who begs you to stay. Tears, unspoken words, emptiness. The journey lasts decades; hours near a black hole are like years on Earth. When you return, a whole lifetime has passed for Murph. She's aged, and you've hardly changed. You learn that Plan A was a lie: humanity was never intended to be saved, only recreated. And now you face a choice where the measure of your decision becomes love itself and the meaning of sacrifice.

A city without a name. Dampness, perpetual rain, gray walls where life seems frozen. The city lives in constant shadow—not because of the sun, but because of the people. You are Detective William Somerset, a seasoned investigator who has worked in the homicide department for over twenty years. Every case has left you scarred, every stay afflicted with doubt. You've long since grown tired of this endless struggle against an evil that never disappears, only changes its face. In a week, you must go to the hospital. But before you leave, you're assigned a new partner—a young, daring, and ambitious detective, David Mills. He believes he can change this city. And you—the city—has changed everyone who lives in it. On your very first day working together, you do indeed call in a brutal murder. A man is murdered and placed at a table with food—dead from gluttony. The next case is even more terrifying. The word "Greed" is carved into the victim's body. Then "Laziness." Then "Lust," "Pride," "Envy," "Wrath"... Someone is killing, following the seven deadly sins. Each standard is meticulously crafted, like part of a complex ritual. The killer isn't insane in the traditional sense. He's methodical, intelligent, confident he's doing the "right thing." He doesn't just kill—he teaches a lesson. The investigation leads you to the finale, where everything falls apart. The killer—John Doe—hands himself over to the police. But what he leaves behind in the box is no evidence, not a clue, but Mills's personal tragedy. The city stands still. The rain never stops. Every choice leaves blood on someone's hands.

Los Angeles, early morning, 1994. The city is waking up: the streets are already full of cars, office workers are rushing to work, street noises mingle with the honking of cars and the shouts of passersby. You are Jack Traven, a seasoned police officer known for his courage, quick reflexes, and ability to make decisions in critical situations. Every morning brings new challenges, but this morning will be a test that will change your life forever. The police receive an alarming call: a terrorist has placed a bomb on city bus #2525. The detonation will be detonated if the bus slows below 50 mph (approximately 80 km/h). There are more than 30 passengers on board: among them children, the elderly, and ordinary workers who, quite by chance, find themselves at the epicenter of this threat. Any wrong decision will instantly lead to disaster. You arrive on scene, assessing the situation: the bus is moving through busy streets, and tension is growing by the minute. Inside the bus, there's panic, screams, and attempts to maintain calm. The psychological pressure is immense: passengers rely on you, and the perpetrator controls every move, manipulating fear. Questions flash through your mind: how to save people without putting them in even greater danger? Follow protocol or risk improvising? Trust yourself or seek help? The life of every passenger, and your own, depends on split-second decisions. Every action will have consequences that will stay with you forever. Whether it's following protocol, impulsive intervention, attempts at negotiation, heroic sacrifice, or selfish self-preservation—all of this shapes your moral path. In this story, there is no room for error, only actions and consequences. You must act quickly, decisively, and responsibly, because the price of error is the lives of innocent people.

Los Angeles, 1994. You are Vincent Vega, a hitman for a criminal organization. Your partner is Jules, a seasoned professional who has faced numerous deadly situations. Today, you are tasked with recovering your boss's stolen suitcase and completing several "inconvenient" contracts. Along the way, you face a dilemma: the world of criminal enterprise is merciless, and every mistake can cost you your life or the lives of innocents. Your actions will determine not only your own fate but also the fate of those around you: colleagues, bystanders, and victims of your contracts. Every choice tests your morality, composure, responsibility, and personal freedom. You must decide how to act: follow your boss's orders, protect strangers, take a risk for your partner, or implement your own strategy.

Chicago, 1993. You are Dr. Richard Kimble, a successful surgeon whose life is shattered after he is accused of murdering his wife. The killer turns out to be a mysterious man with ties to a pharmaceutical corporation. The system is against you: there is almost no evidence of your innocence, and the pursuit of Detective Samuel Gerard turns into a race for survival. While being transported to another city, a bus crashes, giving you a chance to escape. Once free, you face difficult choices: go it alone, risking the lives and reputations of innocents, use random allies, go into hiding, or directly pursue the real killer. Every step changes your morality, the fate of those around you, and the possibility of proving your innocence.

Los Angeles, 1995. You are Neil McCauley, a professional with a clear philosophy: "no attachments, no weaknesses." You and your crew are a well-oiled machine, successfully executing the "perfect" heists for a long time. This was supposed to be your last job: make a big profit and disappear forever. But during the operation, one of the members, Waingro, goes rogue, starts behaving erratically, takes hostages, and provokes a standoff with the police led by Vincent Hanna. The building is surrounded, and time is running out. Your choice will fundamentally change the fate of the team, your own philosophy, and whether you will remain human or lose everything for principles or profit.

A small town in Oklahoma, June 1987 You are Caleb Colton, a 23-year-old farmer from Oklahoma. You live a simple life: helping your father on the farm, looking after your younger sister, Sarah, and planning to continue the family business in the future. Three nights ago, everything changed. At the local fair, you met Mae—a mysterious girl with a Southern accent and piercing eyes. She was unlike anyone you knew. Wild, free, dangerous. You spent the night together, walking under the stars, and by dawn, she was gone, but not before biting you on the neck. At first, you thought it was just a passionate bite. But the next day, it began—a searing pain, an intolerance to sunlight, a craving for something you couldn't identify. Last night, Mae returned with a group of people—a band of nomads in an old wagon. Jesse (the ruthless and charismatic leader), Diamond Beck (a psychopathic cowboy), Severn (a silent brute), and young Homer, who looks 12 but has centuries of age in his eyes. "You're one of us now, Caleb," Jesse said. "May turned you. Welcome to the family." They're vampires. Real ones. Not like in the movies—no castles, capes, or coffins. They roam America in stolen cars, hunting at night in roadside bars, leaving a trail of blood in their wake. They've invited you to join their clan. "You have no choice," May explained. "Without our blood, you'll burn in the sun within a week. You must feed like us. Or die." But you haven't yet drunk human blood. Jesse gave you an ultimatum: "This night is your test. Either you kill and drink, or we kill you." They led you to a sleazy roadside bar by the highway. Inside are truckers, waitresses, and ordinary people. The gang is waiting for you to make the first move. But at that moment, your younger sister, Sarah, walks into the bar. She's been looking for you for three days. She sees you and joyfully runs toward you—but Homer grabs her. "The perfect first victim, Caleb. Family blood is the sweetest."

Highway 40, Texas desert, 2:00 AM, March 1986 You are Jim Halsey, a 20-year-old college student from Chicago. You work part-time as a courier, ferrying cars interstate. You're currently driving an old Cadillac from Illinois to San Diego across the deserted highways of Texas and New Mexico. It's supposed to be a quick, two-day job with good pay. But now you're almost asleep at the wheel. The road is empty, endless, monotonous. It's dark, and there hasn't been a car in two hours. You've nearly swerved off the road twice, nodding off. Suddenly, a figure appears in the headlights—a middle-aged man with long hair and a long coat, hitchhiking on the shoulder. He's standing next to a broken-down car, smoke billowing from under the hood. Under normal circumstances, you would have passed it by—your boss has strictly forbidden passengers in the cars you're ferrying. But you're dead tired, and a hitchhiker could help you stay awake at the wheel. You stop. A man comes to the window and smiles. "Thanks, buddy. I'm John Ryder. My car died in this godforsaken desert. Care to give me a ride to the nearest town?" Something in his gaze makes you wary. His eyes are too bright, his smile too wide. But you've already stopped, and it would be rude to refuse. For the first ten minutes, he acts normal—talks about the breakdown, about how long he's been stuck on the road. But then he starts saying strange things: "Do you know what I did to the driver who gave me a ride to where you picked me up?" You laugh nervously. "What?" "I slit his throat. With this knife." He takes out a huge survival knife. "Do you want to know what I'm going to do to you?" Panic. You try to stay calm: "This isn't funny, dude." "I'm not kidding, Jim." How does he know your name?! "Stop and get out of the car. Now." You accelerate, but he holds a knife to your throat. "STOP!" At the last moment, you brake sharply, open the door, and push him out of the car at 50 mph. Ryder rolls across the pavement, disappearing into the darkness. You hit the gas and speed away. Five miles later, you stop at a roadside diner, your whole body shaking with adrenaline. Call the police? But he didn't have time to do anything. What if they accuse you of assaulting him? Of throwing him out of a moving car? Maybe it's better to just drive to San Diego and forget this night? You go into the diner, order a coffee. In the restroom, you try to calm down. You return to the counter—and see a knife. That same Ryder knife is sticking out of your burger on the plate. You look around—no one suspicious. But he's here. Or was. You run out to the car—there's a note on the windshield: "I'll be keeping an eye on you, Jim."

Beverly Hills, California, November 1989 You are Billy Whitney, a 17-year-old high school senior from one of Beverly Hills' wealthiest families. Your father is a powerful judge, your mother a socialite, and your sister, Jenny, a prom queen. The perfect American family of success. But in recent months, you've been plagued by strange suspicions. It all started with a tape brought in by your classmate, Blanchard, the son of the family driver. The recording contains the voices of your parents and their friends discussing something eerie: "Feeding time is approaching... a new batch of fresh meat... they don't even know it..." Blanchard claimed that the wealthy families of Beverly Hills aren't people, but something else. "They feed on us, billions! Literally! Your family, Judge Carter, the mayor—they're all part of this!" The next day, Blanchard was found dead. Officially, it was suicide. But you saw bruises on his body. Since then, you've begun to notice oddities. Your parents and their friends make hints you couldn't understand before. Housekeepers disappear without explanation. In the basement, you found strange medical instruments and what looked like an operating table. The day before yesterday, your psychiatrist, Dr. Cleveland—a family friend—tried to hypnotize you and suggest something. You pretended to give in, but you heard him whisper, "Forget all suspicion... you are part of us... soon you will understand your purpose..." Yesterday, you were expelled from school for "inappropriate behavior"—in reality, for asking awkward questions about missing students from low-income families. Tonight, Judge Carter's house is hosting a big party for your sister Jenny's birthday. All the elite of Beverly Hills will be there. Your parents insist you come: "It's time to show you who we really are. Today you will become a full-fledged member of our society." You have a video camera—you can try to film what's going on there. You have the phone number of a friend at the police station—but will they believe you? You have a car—you can simply run away. Or you can pretend to agree and try to understand what's going on from the inside. But the scariest thing is—what if you're one of them too? What if what makes your family so successful and wealthy is also ingrained in you? It's time to go to the appointment. What will you choose?

Castle Rock, Maine, October 1983 You are Johnny Smith, a 29-year-old high school English teacher. Five years ago, you were in a car accident and spent four and a half years in a coma. When you woke up, you discovered the world had changed: your fiancée, Sarah, had married someone else and had a child, and you had acquired a strange and terrifying ability. By touching people or objects, you see fragments of their past or future. Sometimes this helps—you've found missing children, prevented accidents, helped the police catch a serial killer. But more often than not, these visions are a curse. You see death, tragedy, pain, and you can't always change anything. Tonight, you're at a rally for local politician Greg Stillson, who is running for the U.S. Congress. He's a charismatic populist who promises to "clean up America" ​​and "bring the country to its knees before American greatness." The crowd adores his aggressive speeches about a strong hand and the need for a "forceful solution" to international problems. Stillson steps into the hall, shaking hands with voters. When he approaches you and extends his hand for a handshake, you hesitate. But it would be strange to refuse. At the moment of contact, a vision of such vividness and horror overwhelms you that you almost faint: The White House, 1988. President Stillson in the Oval Office screams into the telephone: "Fire them all! NOW! If we can't win, let them all burn!" The generals beg him to stop, but he laughs hysterically: "The button is pressed! World War III begins TODAY!" On the screens, missiles rise into the sky. Cities burn. Billions die. The world turns into a radioactive wasteland. The vision ends. Stillson releases your hand, smiles, and moves on, unaware that you've just glimpsed his future. You have a revolver in your pocket—you started carrying it after you were nearly killed by the psychopath you helped capture. There are hundreds of people around. Few guards. You could shoot Stillson right now. But for now, it's just a vision. He's not president yet. He hasn't done anything wrong yet. He's just an ambitious politician at a rally. What if you're wrong? What if the future can be changed? What if killing him makes him a martyr and only accelerates the catastrophe? But what if it doesn't?

Los Angeles, Fairfax, 4:00 AM, August 15, 1988 You are Harry Woshello, a 30-year-old musician from New York City. You've come to Los Angeles to meet the girl of your dreams, Julie, whom you met at the La Brie Tar Pits Museum. Yesterday was your first date, and you arranged to meet at 6 AM this morning at the famous Johnny's Cafe on Fairfax Avenue. But you overslept. Your alarm didn't ring, and now, at 4 AM, you rush to the cafe, knowing Julie is no longer there. Near the cafe, you find the only working phone booth and dial Julie's number to apologize. But instead of Julie, an unfamiliar male voice picks up the phone—clearly military, panicked: "Charlie? Listen, everything's gone to hell! The launch was premature! We have 70 minutes before they get here. I repeat—70 minutes! Evacuate your family NOW! A helicopter will pick you up from the roof at 5:30!" You try to explain that it's a mistake, but the voice continues: "70 minutes until a full nuclear strike on Los Angeles! Moscow is already ablaze, we've responded, they've launched everything they've got! NOW IS NO TIME FOR JOKES!" The line goes dead. You're standing by a phone booth in an empty Los Angeles at dawn. Life goes on as usual—stores are opening, people are going to work, no one knows anything. By your calculations, if the call was real, the nuclear missiles will hit the city around 5:10 AM. You have $50 in your pocket, your driver's license, and a plane ticket back to New York for tomorrow. Julie lives 20 minutes away. The airport is 40 minutes away, but planes probably don't fly during a nuclear war. Perhaps it was just a joke or a mistake. But the voice sounded too real. Too desperate.

Los Angeles, California, the abandoned Church of St. Godfrey, September 1987 You are Katherine Danforth, a 24-year-old graduate student in theoretical physics at UCLA. Today, you are part of an unusual research project: Professor Howard Birack has invited a group of scientists and students to study a mysterious artifact in an abandoned Catholic church downtown. In the church's basement stands an ancient cylinder filled with a swirling green liquid. Nearby lie Latin manuscripts translated by Father Loman, a local priest who turned to science after his predecessor died, leaving strange instructions to "never leave the church unattended." The translations are shocking: according to the texts, Jesus was not the son of God, but came to warn humanity about the Anti-God—a cosmic evil from a mirror dimension. And the cylinder contains the "Prince of Darkness"—the son of this Anti-God, who has lain dormant for centuries, awaiting the hour of awakening. At first, everyone dismissed it as medieval superstition. But yesterday, strange events began. The liquid in the cylinder began to glow brighter. Homeless people from all over the area gathered around the church, standing motionless, surrounding the building. And the most terrifying thing—the dreams. Every night, all the project participants have the same nightmare: a vision from the future, where a demonic figure in a black hood emerges from the church. A voice in the dream says, "This is a transmission from 1999. You are observing through your subconscious. The Prince of Darkness has awakened." This morning, the liquid began to form conscious patterns. Instruments are detecting impossible energetic activity. And your colleague, student Walter, stood too close to the cylinder and is now acting strangely—speaking backwards, his eyes clouded over. Professor Birack insists on continuing the research: "We are on the verge of the greatest discovery in the history of science!" But Father Loman begs everyone to leave the church immediately: "If he fully awakens, it will be the end of everything." It's now midday. According to your calculations, the energy in the cylinder will reach critical point by sunset.

Atlanta, Georgia, FDA Headquarters, August 1985 You are Dr. Sarah Phillips, a 34-year-old food safety specialist at the FDA (Food and Drug Administration). For the past six months, America has been going crazy over a new dessert called "The Stuff"—a creamy, white, sweet-tasting substance supposedly found oozing from the ground in rural areas. "The Stuff" has become a phenomenon. Ice cream sales have dropped by 80%. People eat nothing but it—for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Ads are everywhere: "Good enough to eat instead of food!" Stuff Industries has become a billion-dollar corporation in six months. But strange reports are troubling you. People who eat a lot of "The Stuff" become apathetic, submissive, and lose interest in everything except consuming the product. Patients with unusual symptoms are showing up in hospitals—internal bleeding, strange growths in the stomach, white foam coming from the mouth. Yesterday, a private investigator named Moe Ruckers came to your office. He told you an incredible story: "The Stuff" is a living organism, a parasite that eats people from the inside and controls their behavior. He showed photos from a secret factory where the white mass moves on its own, pulsating like living tissue. "They're feeding us this stuff," Ruckers insists. "Every person who eats enough of it becomes an empty shell, controlled by this organism." This morning, you received an order from your boss: "Approve 'The Stuff' for mass production immediately. All tests are complete. Sign the paperwork." But you haven't run your own tests yet. And your boss has been acting strange lately—eating only "The Stuff," speaking in a monotone, avoiding eye contact. In two hours, there's a press conference where the FDA will officially declare "The Stuff" safe for unlimited consumption. After that, the product will be distributed to school cafeterias, hospitals, and military rations...

You are Jack Dever, a 29-year-old bank employee from Hollywood. An ordinary life, an ordinary job, ordinary problems. But for the last two weeks, something unimaginable has been happening in the city. It all started with a bank robbery on Sunset Boulevard. An ordinary family man, Jonathan Miller, whom everyone knew as a quiet accountant, suddenly took a shotgun, robbed a bank, stole a Ferrari and arranged a crazy chase that ended in an explosion. Before his death, he shouted something about "they are inside us." Then a chain of events began. A respectable senator raped and killed a stripper. An exemplary housewife blew up a gun store. A teenager from a good family shot schoolchildren. And each time - the same pattern: a normal person suddenly turns into a psychopath, commits terrible crimes, and before his death talks about some "they." Yesterday, this affected you personally. Your colleague Mark Thompson, with whom you have worked for three years, came to the office with a machine gun and tried to shoot everyone. Security stopped him, but before he died, he looked straight at you and whispered: "Jack... they are switching... find the FBI... Gallagher knows the truth..." This morning, a strange FBI agent named Lloyd Gallagher came to your home. Tall, pale, speaks monotonously, like a robot. He told you an incredible story: an extraterrestrial entity is operating in the city - a parasite that enters people, completely controls their behavior, makes them commit crimes, and then moves on to a new body. "This creature feeds on adrenaline and violence," Gallagher explains. "It can be in anyone. Even in someone close to you." He shows strange photographs, medical reports, secret documents. All this looks like the ravings of a madman, but it explains what is happening in the city. "I need your help," the agent says. "You have access to the suspects' bank records. We can trace the pattern and find where the parasite is now." But something about this Gallagher scares you. His cold eyes, his mechanical movements... What if he himself is possessed?

You are Matt, a 16-year-old high school student from a working-class family. You live in a depressed industrial town where the only entertainment is hanging out by the river with your school friends. Your gang: Clarissa (your girlfriend), Tim (younger brother), Lane (the local cynic philosopher), Fek (a paranoid guy with a gun) and Samson, the eldest and most unpredictable of the gang. This morning, Samson approached you at school with life-changing news: "I killed Jamie last night. Strangled her. Do you want to see the body?" Jamie was his girlfriend - a 16-year-old girl everyone knew. Quiet, from a dysfunctional family. Yesterday, they were seen arguing by the river. Samson is not joking. He calmly, almost indifferently recounts the details: "She got on my nerves. She kept whining. I just squeezed her neck until she shut up. The body is in the bushes by the old bridge." You realize with horror that he is telling the truth. There is no regret or fear in his eyes. Only emptiness. Samson has already told several of your friends about the murder. Some don't believe him. Some think it's cool. Lane waxes philosophical about "the nature of death." Feck offers to help hide the body. The police don't know yet. Jamie's parents think she ran away from home - not for the first time. You have a few hours, maybe a day, before the search for her begins in earnest. What will you do with this knowledge?

You are Paul Hackett, a 27—year-old programmer working for a boring data processing company. Every day is the same: the office, the computer, the numbers on the screen. Tonight, you were sitting at the Tom Restaurant Cafe in Soho, reading Henry Miller, when you met the mysterious girl Marcy. She left you her number and invited you to come to her home, an art studio in Soho. It's 11:30 p.m. You ride in a taxi through the deserted streets of Lower Manhattan. A $20 bill—your last money—flies out of the car window in the wind. You only have a little something left, not even enough for the way back home. You arrive at the right place. Marcie's apartment turns out to be a strange studio full of creepy sculptures. Her neighbor, Kiki— is an eccentric artist who makes life-size papier-mache figures of people. Marcie acts nervous and then disappears altogether. Around midnight, you find Marcie dead— she took an overdose of sleeping pills. There's a note next to it: "I can't live with what we did to that man in the park anymore." At the same time, strange things begin to happen in the area — robberies, attacks. Local residents organize patrols. And you, a stranger with empty pockets next to a dead girl, look extremely suspicious.

Mayfield Place, Suburbia, Summer 1989 You are Ray Peterson, a 35-year-old engineer living in a quiet suburban neighborhood with your wife Carol and son Dave. Your week off should have been quiet: mowing the lawn, barbecuing with the neighbors, relaxing in the backyard. But everything changed when new neighbors moved into the abandoned Victorian house on the corner - the Klopeks. They are strange. Very strange. They only come out at night, their yard is dead and overgrown with weeds, and eerie sounds are coming from the basement. Your neighbor Art Weizak, a retired military man, is sure that they are hiding something. And young Mark Rumsfeld says outright: "They are serial killers!" Yesterday, your neighbor - old Walter Szczesny - disappeared. His little terrier Quint was found wandering around the neighborhood, but Walter himself is nowhere to be found. And this morning you saw Hans Klopek carrying a large sack that looked like a human body into his house. Your wife Carol thinks you're bored out of your mind, making up problems out of nothing. The police are brushing off your calls. But you know something is very, very wrong. It's evening. The Klopeks have left the house. There's a fire burning in the yard, and you smell something awful. It's time to act.

Klingenfeld Castle. Denmark. September 2024. Today is a special day — the patriarch of the clan, Helge Klingenfeld, is celebrating his 60th birthday. More than fifty people have gathered in the family estate, converted into an elite hotel: children, grandchildren, relatives, business partners, politicians. Crystal is ringing, champagne is flowing, an orchestra is playing classical music. Helge is a respected man. A steel empire, charity, thirty years of impeccable marriage, four children. Until recently — four. A month ago, his daughter Linda committed suicide. The family mourns, but life goes on. "She was always too sensitive," the guests whisper. You are Christian Klingenfeld, 35, the eldest son. A successful restorer from Paris. His father's favorite. A model heir. Throughout the evening, relatives watched, congratulated, asked to give a speech in honor of father. "Only you know how to find the right words, Christian," smiles mother. You have a letter in your pocket. Linda's suicide note, found among her things just three days ago. The letter that spoke your suicide. The letter that will destroy this family forever. "Christian, dear... He did this to you too. Why did we remain silent? Why do we continue to be a hero to him?" The guests raise their glasses. Everyone is waiting for your speech. Father looks at you with pride. Mother held his hand. Your younger brother smiles. Little nephews run between the tables. One wrong move - and a hundred years of family reputation will turn to dust. But Linda is dead. And she asked for justice. What will you say in your toast?

Picture this: you come home after a hard day. Your past is standing on the doorstep. Fried Munters, 42. Social worker. Wife Ada, sons 8 and 10. A quiet suburb of Amsterdam. Five years ago, Jerry passed through his hands - a 16-year-old boy who stabbed his entire family to death. Mother, father, 6-year-old brother. Fried believed in rehabilitation, fought for Jerry to get treatment and not life in prison. Now Jerry is 21. He is "cured". Released. There is one sports bag at your door. "Hello, Mr. Munters. Remember me? I have no place to go anymore. You are the only one who believed in me." Behind you - the laughter of your children playing in the living room. The age of your youngest son exactly matches the age of the boy Jerry killed.