/forum/victims/LydiaSingh
Lydia Singh
/RainKing
102.1k
2
Hey crows! I’ve organized everything I’ve compiled about Lydia in different links. Childhood, education, family life etc. etc. etc. Basic info below, and as usual, message me with any information you find and I will edit bios accordingly.
General background
Name: Lydia Singh
Age: 44
Spouse: Paul Singh
Children: 1 (daughter, Natalie)
Victim #: 1
Disappearance
Lydia was reported missing by her husband on June11, three years before Thorn’s arrest. In his confession, Thorn confirmed that she was his first victim and….[read more]
^/Jenn_Darcy
She’s the only WOC on the victim list. I feel like that has to mean something.
^/IluvGabriel
@RainKingI DM’d you some info about her daughter. She accidentally made her IG profile public for 24 hours and I scraped a bunch of shit off it. Annual tributes to Lydia etc. Gold mine. Check your inbox.
five
Looking for Bones
Instead of going straight home after school, my cousins take me into Starling. Jasmine wants to show me around town, although she warns me not to get my hopes up. “It’s so small you’lldieof boredom,” she says in what I’m starting to recognize as her signature dramatic fashion.
The afternoon sun feels warm on my face as I step off the school bus, squinting into the light. My cousins are already charging ahead, Jasmine talking a mile a minute about cheerleading. I should be paying attention, showing interest in her interests, but my mind’s elsewhere. It usually is these days.
“Ryan, come on,” she grumbles, waving at me from the sidewalk.
I blink out of my thoughts. “Sorry,” I say, picking up the pace to catch up with them.
She wasn’t kidding about the size of the town. It’s literally one street. The end. Downtown consists of a clothing boutique, a Starbucks, some bars and restaurants, a pharmacy, and a handful of other storefronts. At the very end of the street there’s a clock tower with a white facade. Beside it is a palatial redbrick building that might be a courthouse or city hall.
Connor points in that direction, his eyebrows shooting up. “What the hell’s going on over there?”
I follow his gaze to the small square, which is packed with people. Reporters holding cameras and microphones line up in front of a makeshift podium, and there’s a nervous energy crackling in the air. It makes me uneasy.
“Oooh, looks like a press conference or something,” Jasmine says. “Let’s check it out.”
I hesitate. “Maybe we shouldn’t. It’s probably a—”
Before I can finish, she’s already dragging me forward by the wrist. Connor trails us with a shrug. As we get closer, I can see the faces of the people gathered around. Pale, solemn, some teary-eyed.
