Confessions of a Journalist Haunted by a Double Killing

Three years ago this week, a couple named Nate and Cassy were brutally stabbed to death, and I soon began reporting their story. I now realize it will never leave me—for reasons you might not expect.

Image from Google Maps | Edited by Noah Rosenberg

“The ‘Insane Pirate’ Drifter and the Double Killing at the Fourplex” — my third piece for Narratively — began to torment me after I took on the assignment. Whether I’m writing about housing, the lack of housing, or a bloody double homicide in a basement, a sense of place is crucial. And this place I spent so much time investigating just has an ominous feeling to it.

When I park my butt and laptop on the lawn in front of the faded gray quadplex on NE Davis Street this week, 22 months after I first showed up here to report my story, the building is silent, perhaps empty. But the neighborhood surrounding it is pure Portland, Oregon. Noisy. Sensory. Busy as a Richard Scarry children’s book.

No other place smells quite like this one. When the wind arrives from the nearby Willamette River, it carries a wholesome waft from the nearby Franz Bakery. Then it shifts, bringing whiffs of Voodoo Donuts’ deep-fried fancy sweets. Sometimes it’s the musty…