"Nineteen Louis William Tomlinson has finally been captured after the brutal murder of fifty-seven year old Dominic Hill, marking this as his fifteenth murder in his three year killing spree, including the murder of his parents, Johanna and Troy.
Tomlinson is being taken to Westwood Mental Institution For The Criminally Insane, after being deemed unfit for a regular prison sentence after pleading insanity."
The front page cover story of all the worlds biggest papers, sending floods of relief throughout people globally.
The story of a heartless, cold blooded killer.
The sort of story that brought visions of cold eyes, and unkind hands.
The sort of image that would represent every aspect of what Louis William Tomlinson wasn't.
Louis was a sweet boy. Nineteen years old and the picture of innocence.
Quirky, and maybe a bit strange with the way he would claim he could talk to animals, or that he always had a lollipop stuck between thick pink lips.
Innocent, adorable, likeable, quirky.
But a murderer? No.
Louis was a good boy.
A good boy who had been urged to plead insanity during the court case after his capture, after he was found sobbing next to the body of the richest CEO in London, the mans throat slit and the murder weapon nestled between Louis' small, bloodied, trembling hands.
It's funny, isn't it? How things work. How brains work. How tabloids, and press, and reporters shoot out all sorts of stories that made no sense.... all for a bit of cash, for a bit of publicity. To lure in viewers and to make some cash out of people that were desperately trying to find out more, to discover the answer as to why.
When not even the boy himself understood why.
Why he was being blamed. Why everyone he loved died. Why he was being set up, and hurt, and tortured.
Why he'd wake from his sleep to find bodies of strangers, of loved ones, in front of him.
He didn't understand, but a plead to insanity got Louis away from death row, and ended up here.
Westwood Mental Institution For The Criminally Insane.
And somehow, this good boy had found himself with hands tied behind his back, tears streaming down blotchy, pink cheeks, and walking beside no less than ten of the best security team in all of England, down the seemingly endless hallway of the highest security insane asylum that the world had to offer, to the only doctor in the world who had the experience and desire to take this seemingly impossible case on.