The Devil You Know (2019–…): Season 1, Episode 1 - There's a Satanist in the Suburbs - full transcript

A man disappears amidst rumors of a local Satanic killer. Journalist Chad Nance takes up the case as police come up empty-handed.

People knew of a guy,
John Lawson,

who named himself Pazuzu.

He became a
quote/unquote Satanist.

the misfits, the outcasts.

He tried to have orgies
and manipulate people

into having sex.

People would come to
Pazuzu's house because

there was no rules.

There was always
black metal blaring

at ear-shattering volumes.

Police today
looking for the bodies of

two local men
believed to be missing.

Dude, your house
smells like death.

"Oh, yeah. It's just the
bodies in the basement."

We got a possible serial killer.

We executed a search warrant.

They didn't find anything.

Why did all this happen?

How could we have
let this happen?

This community
really believe in Satan.

These people really
believe in dark forces.

They're waiting for the
apocalypse and

they believe in a
very tactile battle

between the forces
of good and evil.

Between the Devil and
God and his angels.

My name is Chad Nance, and
I am the Editor in Chief

of the Camel City Dispatch.

The Dispatch is a local news
blog I founded with my wife,

here in Winston-Salem, in 2012.

Ever since Pazuzu was arrested,

I've been trying to get
past the rumors and the

sensationalist headlines to
get to the real story

behind this man,
his crimes, his victims,

and how this could have
happened in our community.

What I'm finding is that this
story's not just about murder.

It's much bigger than that.

No one really knows how many
crimes have taken place.

I mean, the investigation's
still not over.

There could be more victims.

Where I kind of made an
emotional connection

with the story, honestly,
is the story of Josh.

What often happens in the
sensationalism is that

we have headlines that say,
"Satan! Satan! Satan!"

And we don't understand
a story like

Josh Wetzler and his family.

The guy could've been me.

I went through so much.

Our lives have just been,

been very complicated by this.

And, thinking
about what happened...

And then, just being part
of a story that's so...

fantastic, and,
and dark, and terrible.

And I think sometimes, you know,

how did I end up in the
middle of this story?

My name is Stacey Carter.

Josh and I were
together for six years.

Josh and I met in 1999

in Olympia, Washington,

when I was traveling out west.

I was twenty-five.
He was twenty-two.

So he was a little bit younger.

I wasn't super outgoing,
and being with Josh

was so much fun because
he knew everybody within

a very short time, and was
much more outgoing.

We got a van and
traveled the country.

He really preferred the
company of people

who are outside of
the mainstream.

I loved his passion for life.

I loved his dedication
and commitment

to his sense of right.

Josh was beautiful.

I remember seeing him
sleeping after I'd first met him

and just thinking he had
the most beautiful face that

I ever seen.
So there was that, too.

Josh grew up in Virginia,
and he took

horseback riding lessons and
loved horses, loved animals.

He never said no to a stray dog.

That was one of the things
that brought us together and

kept us together,
was that common vision...

And that connection with horses.

Well, we bought land
and our plan was

to build a training center.

He wanted to bring horses
in for rehabilitation.

And so, we had this dream
and this vision of the farm.

And then, when she got pregnant,

they settled down,
bought a small farm that

they were gonna turn
into a horse farm,

got screwed by a bank, you know,

right before all the loan
companies and everything

started to fail.

And, Josh's life starts
going downhill there.

So, we lost the farm in 2008,

and since then, I've been
working for other people,

trading work for rent,
but not getting paid.

Our dream that we shared
involved having a farm,

and having our business,
and you know,

we, we trusted the banks,
the mortgage brokers.

They said,
"Oh, I'm going to help you,"

and what they really did was
convince us to do something

that destroyed us.

He ends up with a home
that he can't afford and

it gets foreclosed on.

His wife leaves him because
he got desperate and

he started thinking
about selling drugs.

I mean, it was pretty benign
stuff like weed and mushrooms,

but his wife didn't
want his child

around that sort of thing.

She still loved him,
she still cared about him,

but she had to leave.

He was the love of
my life, you know.

I think that we would have
worked out our differences.

I feel like together we could
have accomplished so much.

But, his house was searched
and raided by police.

He had gotten a package
of psychedelic mushrooms

delivered through the mail.

Because it was sent
through the mail,

it was considered a felony.

It was front page
news in his little town.

That really kind of
changed everything for him.

He lost his clients and
his hoof-trimming business.

He was searching hard, but
with a felony on his record,

nobody would give him a job.

So again, the drug war
takes out another guy.

Once you've gotten out of jail,

we beat 'em down
economically to the point

that they have to turn back
to crime to try to

function in a society that
demands a certain amount of,

you know, economic promise.
It becomes hard.

He was struggling.


You know, for whatever reason,

he ended up in the
same circle as Pazuzu.

We would cut ourselves
and each other.

Maybe drink the
blood of a bird or so.

Human beings would pop
a squat in the corner.

The dogs might eat it.

There was people naked,
like it was nothing.

You know, just,
all around having a good time.

So, it's the mid 1990s around
the Winston-Salem suburbs.

People knew of a guy
called John Lawson...

Who named himself Pazuzu.

Pazuzu had done everything
he could to make himself

seem scary to the
people in town.

He was trying to
freak people out.

He claimed to sacrifice animals.

He claimed to be able
to control the weather.

He had filed his teeth down
with a dremel tool and

he had tattoos printed
all over his face.

He became Winston-Salem's own

Manson-esque icon of depravity,

and he created a following of

disaffected youth
desperate for an escape.

Pazuzu had followers,
more or less.

I was certainly one of them.

We were these people
who were intrigued by this

free atmosphere that
he built around himself.

Are you done now?
Can I move?


I kind of look at Winston-Salem
as sort of a black hole.

There's a lot of people go
down some pretty dark paths

in this town, myself included.

My legal name is
Nathan Anderson.

I've been in and out of
recovery the past couple years,

but I relapsed last summer.

I was a straight-A student,
all my years growing up,

all through high school.

I had basically a full ride
to Wake Forest University

when I left.

My entire life, really,
has been defined

by entertainment:
movies, books,

television shows, video games.

By stories.

And, when I found drugs,
it was just like the,

the next best thing,
the next great story, I guess.

You know, it just made me
feel good and I didn't have

to worry about how boring,
or shitty the world was.

Pazuzu, to this day,
is the best story.

He had, if you will,
a twisted sort of charisma.

You know, and it's the kind
of charisma that's

not going to appeal to everyone,

but certain minds are
drawn in by that.

The misfits, the outcasts,
"crazy people", um...

People living on
the edge, I guess,

or people who wanted
to live on the edge.

I never really considered
that there might be

a little more to that...

Until I started hearing
these rumors and these

stories about bodies
and murder and stuff.

When I first met him,
we mainly just hung out and

chilled around and
whatnot, you know,

maybe did a little bit of
heroin every now and again.

You know, just a
shit-ton of drinking,

and cut ourselves
and each other,

you know, maybe drink the
blood of a bird or so.

You know, just all
around having a good time.

My name's David Adams.

I am an old friend of Pazuzu's.

I've known him for a
little over a decade, and...

We used to get into some shit.

People would come to
Pazuzu's house because

they knew it was free rein.

There was no rules,
no anything that

you had to abide by.

You could piss in his carpet,

you could smash a TV,
you could...

Hit somebody in the
head with a beer bottle,

you could throw a
knife at his wall.

It just didn't matter.

You knock on the door and
immediately you hear a

shit-ton of dogs barking.

And then, Pazuzu
answers the door.

You're greeted with
the smell of just...

Ammonia and urea.

It just smells
like straight urine.

And, and rotting matter,
you know,

greets you as soon as
that door is opened.

He was crazy-looking
enough, you know,

with the long ratty-ass
dreadlocks and

all his teeth filed
down to a point.

Which, later come to find out,

he did high as hell
on meth one day.

There was always black
metal blaring at

ungodly ear-shattering volumes.

There was always
glass getting smashed,

people fighting.

There was just like,
dirt, and shit,

and like, nasty.

People would get so drunk
there that human beings

would just pop a squat in
the corner and take a crap,

and god knows when it
would get cleaned up,

or the dogs might
eat it, or whatever.

You walked into his kitchen,
it was just like

any other kitchen until he
opened up his dishwasher.

When he opened up
his dishwasher,

it was filled with
serious weapons.

There was people
naked like it was nothing.

He tried to have orgies,

and tried to manipulate
people into having sex,

and doing whatever
they wanted to do.

You can do whatever
the you want.

Nobody's pointing
their finger at me;

nobody's judging me.

It was just free rein.

You know, it's like this
mad place where you can

act out your darkest and
sickest fantasies,

to no judgement.

And actually, I can see the
appeal for a generation here

who is having a hard
time even finding a job,

you know, the idea
that you can go somewhere

judgement-free with
no pressure on you,

somebody's gonna give you
drugs and let you behave

however you want,
there's an appeal to that.

He loved filth.
Like, he believed

it gave him like some
type of weird power.

Everything on the surface was...

It was ugly, and it was nasty,

but it was fun,
it was cool, it was,

you know, intoxicating,
just like drugs.

He was basically like a
Charles Manson of Clemmons.

I'm Sylvia Lebeau.

I'm related to the situation
just by being at

the wrong place at
the wrong time.

He had this thing
called "fiancées".

He had several women followers:




And he called
them his "fiancées".

That term has always stuck
with me, "fiancées".

He had this sense of power.

The power of fear;
that's where I think

Pazuzu derived most
of his power from.

Pazuzu would tell me all
these crazy stories about,

you know, hurting
and maiming people.

I'd look at him and just
be like, "Okay, buddy.

Sure you did.
You sure do."

Pazuzu, I just felt like
he wasn't going anywhere.

He was just kind
of a shit bag, you know.

You know, he just, like,
sat around his house

all the time, never wanted to
do anything positive.

I feel like I was
stuck in a crossroads.

A lot of my friends,
my peers were, like,

getting off on heroin
and stuff like that.

I just wanted to get away from,

just like the drugs in
Winston-Salem and

get away from Pazuzu.

I got my GED when
I was sixteen...

Went in the military.

I was a gunner in Iraq.

Pazuzu would call me all
the time on the phone.

He's like,
"You kill anyone?"

And he wanted to know if
I killed anyone in Iraq.

I've seen what the
world really is like.

It's like, in a war, dude,

nobody's right or
wrong in a war.

Nobody's good or evil in war.

It's just a different side,
you know.

But, Pazuzu...

He was highly evil.

He had to come up with money
to pay for his probation.

Really, the only avenues
left to him were

selling weed and mushrooms.

And they look on his jacket,
and he's got a felony thing.

They go, "Oh, this
guy wandered off".

I heard a rumor that Josh
had been murdered and

buried in Pazuzu's backyard.

Once you get a drug
charge in America,

your opportunities have
been removed from you.

We have a serious problem
in this nation

about how we stigmatize felons,

particularly first-time
felons, like Josh.

You have to take away the
morality and you have to

take away the judgement.

You have to understand him
as a human being and the

decisions that he made
that led him to Pazuzu.

He had to come up with money
to pay for his probation.

Really, the only avenues
left to him were

selling weed and mushrooms.

He was driven further and
further away from society.

Last time I saw
Josh was in July 2009.

I came home one Friday and
he was there and

Jared was so excited
to see his dad.

You know, I kind of stayed
out of the way and

let him hang out
there at the farm.

That weekend, I had some
friends come over and

we had a cookout.

And, and Josh made us all
pizzas and we all just,

we had a really good time.
We had a lot of fun.

He left on good terms,
and then after that... nothing.

Sometimes I wouldn't
hear from him and

I didn't have a phone number.

I didn't have any way to
get in touch with him.

Jared wanted to know
where his dad was.

I just told him that, you know,

he'd gone away somewhere.
We hadn't heard from him.

And honestly, I thought that.

I thought that he wasn't
contacting me 'cause

I would tell his probation
officer where he was.

So, I thought he
was hiding from us.

Josh's probation officer kept
calling me, and so,

I assumed that they
were looking for him,

but they weren't.

It's like that cliché of the kid
in school who gets in trouble

in 5th grade, and they
write on his permanent record,

"problem child", right.

That's what happened with Josh
when he got drug charges.

His mom really became alarmed

when he didn't call
on her birthday.

It was so odd that
Christmas would pass and

he wouldn't contact Jared.

When Stacey did eventually
go to the law enforcement

about Josh, they told her
that they had found Josh's car

seven months before with
the keys in the ignition,

sitting in a parking lot.

And they had never
contacted her about it.

Had I known, I would
have been suspicious that

something had happened to him.

I would have reported him
missing much earlier on.

You know, I feel like if a
car's found missing that the

family of the owner
should be contacted,

so, you know, that was
something that

I think could have been
handled better.

They look on his jacket
and he's got a felony thing.

They go, "Oh, this
guy wandered off.

This guy's a cliché.

He doesn't care
about his family.

He's off getting
high somewhere."

You know, and he's
real easy to write off.

You're not gonna put a lot
of police resources into that.

When you don't have
police resources,

because they don't deem those
people important enough

to spend resources on them.

I was there hanging
out and Paz told me,

"Hey, I got a person
in my basement."

He starts bragging about how
he had the body covered

with cat litter and bleach
to keep the smell down.

They cut off his extremities:

his arms and his legs,
and his penis.

And they buried him in pieces.

North Carolina's
in the Bible Belt.

It's God's country.

One of the reasons there was
so much hype around Pazuzu,

and a big part of Pazuzu's
infamy in the local underworld,

and the myth he was able
to build up around himself,

was a direct response
to the evangelical

Christian fervor
of this community.

I do believe in the devil.

The devil preys on the weak.

Winston-Salem was
full of weak people.

I was a preacher's daughter.

I was heavily
involved in church...

Doing the Lord's work.

When I first met Pazuzu,
he told me

that he was the
gatekeeper of Hell.

The first time I met them,
I drove Amber - or Bubbles -

and Pazuzu home.

When I saw their front door,

that's when I knew something
was highly wrong.

I didn't want to be there.
I wanted to leave immediately,

but they asked me to stay and
watch a home video of theirs.

The video was of Pazuzu and
Bubbles dancing around naked.

Bubbles lying on a
bed in one scene,

doing inappropriate
things to herself.

I knew the video
made me nauseous.

It was intense.

Pazuzu, in one shot,
had a knife...

And a...
bloody bandana on his head.

it was Josh's bandana,

from what I was told by
everyone that hung out with him.

They had trapped him
in a basement...

And they had
starved him for days.

And, either before or
after they shot him,

they cut off his extremities:

his arms and his legs,
and his penis.

And they buried him in pieces.

Krystal was proud to tell
everyone she knew

that she was involved.

He had spoken to me on
several occasions that

he had killed
homeless people and

done a whole bunch
of other people really badly,

shot a few people,
stabbed a few people.

There was never any proof,
to my knowledge,

of any of these
things happening.

You know, I just thought
that he was trying to look cool.

I was there hanging out
and Paz told me,

"Hey, I got a person
in my basement".

"Okay, cool.
Whatever, dude."

"It's not my problem."

I was told, "If a person
comes out of the basement,

don't let him go."

No one ever made a sound,
no one ever knocked on a door.

No one ever did anything.

I was told that there was
a person in the basement.

I said, "Sure, if they
come out of the basement,

I'll make sure
they don't leave,"

clearly thinking that
they're full of shit.

Pazuzu looked at me,
grabbed a very large knife.

It was more or
less a sword, but, ah...

He said,
"I've done something."

He didn't say what he had done.

He said, "You're gonna
help me dig this hole

or I'm gonna kill you."

When I first heard
about the murder,

my father was hanging out
with Krystal Matlock,

another female
that was involved.

My name is Terina Billings
and I was the first person

to come forward to the police
in the Pazuzu Algarad case.

Krystal Matlock,
she invited Pazuzu

and his girlfriend over.

And so, everybody was
having a good time drinking.

A few hours later,
he starts bragging about

how he shot a guy
six times with a shotgun,

and how he had the body
downstairs in the basement,

covered with cat litter and
bleach to keep the smell down.

And we all thought he was
lying 'cause he was drunk

and we were like, he's crazy.

The day after the party,
my father had left with

Krystal Matlock and they came
back a few hours later and

had Pazuzu's mother,
Cynthia, with them.

My dad had
cut-off jean shorts on,

he had dirt all over him,
and he didn't have the

t- shirt on that he
had that morning.

He had no shirt.

I tried to ask questions.
He wouldn't answer me, and...

Cynthia just, there was
something going on at her house.

She just needed to
get back right away.

So, they left,
and when they left,

I followed behind them,
followed them to the house.

They pulled into the
garage and my dad came,

saw me pull up in the front.

And he runs across the yard
to the road and just

told me to get the
hell out of there.

And, the way he said it, I just,

I listened and I left.

My father, he didn't open up to
me at first in the beginning,

but my best friend,
he did open up to her and

tell her everything
that happened as far as

Pazuzu chopping up the body,
burying it in the backyard.

There were other
people there at the time,

but I don't know their names.

It was very hard to
go to the police.

But, I thought, what if
that was my brother

buried in somebody's backyard?

I would want somebody to come
forward and say something.

They met us at the
Yadkin County park.

I was sitting in the car
with a detective and

he asked me names of the
people that I knew that

were involved, so I told him
Krystal Matlock was one,

Allen Billings - my father.

Pazuzu Algarad,
I called him a caveman

'cause that's what he
looked like to me.

I didn't know his
name at that time.

And what did the Forsyth County
Sheriff's Department

do with that information?

Well from what I've heard,

they went to Pazuzu's house,
knocked on the door and

straight up told him that there
had been reports of murder and

bodies buried in the backyard.

When asked if the
reports were true,

Pazuzu said no.

When they asked if they
could search his house,

he said no again.

So the officer left.

Now, why would
the police do that?

My name is Brad Stanley.

On average, Forsyth
County Sheriff's Office,

in the, in those areas,
we have two,

maybe three homicides a year.

We had information
previously to go to the

residents through our local
Crime Stoppers program,

where they don't have
to identify themselves.

Unfortunately, just
those tips are not enough,

many times,
to develop probable cause.

So, you're back in 2009,
you've got multiple reports

that Pazuzu has killed and
put someone in his backyard.

You have the Winston-Salem
Police Department

with Josh's car and with
Crime Stoppers' tips

referring to a "Tazuzu".
I mean, it's ridiculous.

Everybody in the
community knows this guy.

He's absolutely-He's even
become an urban legend,

or a suburban legend,

and nobody's doing
anything about it.

God put me on
drugs to help Stacey.

When I saw him,
I was like, oh my God,

his dad was murdered by this
guy that I happen to know.

I think God put me on drugs,

and God put me where I was,

to help Stacey find out what
happened to her boyfriend.

I was at a party with a
friend I worked with,

and I was doing mushrooms
and hula-hooping, and...

having a lot of fun.

There was like a
liquor luge there.

And, it was really fun.

And it was like, two,
three in the morning.

She said that she
had to take me home.

So, we were driving
down Silas Creek Parkway,

and we were just talking, and...

I happened to mention Pazuzu
supposedly killed this guy

named Josh, and
she was like, "What?"

Her face turned shocked.
It was just shock, and surprise,

and just like I had
uncovered a mystery for her.

And, she said, "You need
to meet my friend Stacey".

So, we concocted the plan
that I would get a

voice recording of information
on how Josh died,

or was murdered.

'Cause, like I said,
they were very proud

of what they did and
what they were.

I went with my phone to
record any information I could.

There were several people that
spoke up on the voice recording.

But, the main voice was Nate.

I started laughing and said,

"Is it true that Pazuzu
actually killed people?"

And, Nate looked at me and said,

"Well, yeah," like it
was common knowledge.

He said, yeah,
he had killed people.

I went to the Sheriff's
Department with a

voice recording and my personal
knowledge of who was

involved in the murders
and told them what I knew.

I know I looked crazy,
but they didn't take

anything I said seriously.

I traveled down to
Salisbury to see Stacey.

I come to this farm
and the farm is pretty.

There's horses everywhere,
and it's just like a

set up for like a
beautiful movie.

We get there and I'm
meeting Stacey, "Hi, Stacey".

I see this boy, and I'm like,

oh, okay, there's a kid here.

And then I see him
walk in front of me,

and then it hit me...

His dad was murdered.

His dad is buried in the
back of someone's yard.

And I have this huge
breakthrough story.

So many emotions ran through
my mind when I saw him.

Thinking, oh my God,
his dad was murdered

by this guy that I
happen to know.

I think she feared for her life.

"We murdered a guy.
We shot him in the head.

If you don't help us bury him,

we're gonna ing
slit your throat,

then we're gonna
bury you with him."

"You're gonna think I'm crazy,

but I think my son's
father is buried

in a guy's backyard."

This is some fake
Charles Manson shit.

With all the sensationalism
surrounding the Pazuzu story

up to this point, what I
looked and saw was,

Josh Wetzler and Stacey.

A guy who's been taken
away from his mother,

taken away from his son.

All these people's lives are
forever disrupted and changed.

He's left a hole.

A fellow like Josh with a
felony drug conviction,

is just written off
by society, by police.

You know, but there are
people that love him.

You know, when I
heard that he was,

Josh was buried in
Pazuzu's backyard,

I didn't know who that
was or anything like that.

And I went to the police
and I told 'em, I said,

"You're gonna think I'm crazy,

but I think my son's
father is buried in," you know,

"this guy's backyard
in Clemmons," and then,

it turns out the officer
didn't think I was crazy

'cause he had heard
rumors of that already.

We executed a search warrant at

2749 Knob Hill Drive

in Clemmons, North Carolina.

Our investigators, again,

acted on as much information
as they had at that time.

There was no evidence that
we were able to find

based on the information.

We were told that they had
gotten cadaver dogs and

they had done a
search of the yard,

and that they found nothing.

I really did not know what
to think 'cause I was

so sure that Josh was
there in Pazuzu's yard.

When they didn't find him,

I wasn't sure anymore
what had happened.

They sealed the search warrants.

Now, that's not unusual for
an ongoing investigation,

but I'm starting to think
that there's something about

this case that the sheriffs
don't want us to know about.

They're being tight-lipped.

I've been reaching out to them,

but no one is willing
to go on the record.

Even though I didn't have
any evidence of

what had happened to Josh,

Jared needed some answers.

I told Jared that we're pretty
sure that his father had died.

What passed over his face
was like this look of relief.

And, it hit me that like,
for a child,

a parent dying was
way easier to accept

than being abandoned, you know.

It was almost like when he
thought his dad abandoned him,

that was harder
for him to understand.

Even with the Sheriff's silence
and all the unanswered

questions, I know
there are a number of people

inside of Pazuzu's circle
who know exactly what happened.

I started actually hanging out
with Pazuzu on a regular basis.

I started dating
this girl, Dixie.

She was intrigued with him
and his girlfriend, Amber...

or, Bubbles, as we called her.

She became real close
with them very fast and

we started going over to
his house to hang out.

She walked out onto their
back porch with me one night

and pointed out the backyard.

She was like,
"Do you ever stop and think

why the ground is so
uneven out here?"

She was basically
implying that, you know,

he had killed a lot of people,

or that there were a lot of
bodies buried in that backyard.

She actually divulged
that she helped,

I think, rebury a body.

I think she feared for her life,

being so close to them.

As I'm coming back from Iraq,

coming back from my deployment,

like Fort Lewis, Washington...

I call her and she says,
"I'm part of the Family".

I'm like, "What the
are you talking about,

'part of the Family'?"

Like, now I know
something happened.

You know,
this doesn't make sense.

Like, this is weird.
You know, this is like Charles-

fake Charles Manson shit,
you know.

I was scared for her
protection and her life.

I bought a plane ticket
for like two days later,

you know, and as soon as
she got off the plane,

she was a different person,
completely different person.

We're riding from the airport,

she tells me the whole story.

She tells me that
Amber calls her,

she goes to the front door.

And she said, "We murdered
a guy. We shot him in the head.

If you don't help us bury him,
we're gonna slit your throat

and we're gonna
bury you with him".

Amber and her dragged the
body out in the backyard and

they started digging the hole,

tried to push him in this hole
and the hole was too shallow.

Part of his knee's still
sticking out of the dirt,

so they put a tarp over him,
and she took a picture of it.

That's how I know all this shit.

This is how I know that there
is a dead body in the backyard.

So, what the do I do?

His aura is very intoxicating.

You just feel free and
powerful in his presence.

Like, I keep thinking about it,
thinking about it.

Like, it sat there rotting
in my brain for years,

and years, and years, that
there's a body in the yard.

They actually
showed up to his house,

SWAT Team, like, battle rattle,

like, they're ready to rock.

You would be hard pressed to
be inside the house and

not think that the person
who lived there

was capable of about anything.

He's like,
"Let's kill him right now.

We'll get away with it."

They shot him in his
head and he fell dead.

They murdered my son.

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