The following journal entries were seized by the Australian Police Force as evidence for the 'Martlet Case' in late 2015. These journal entries were anonymously released to the public sometime after the evidence was deemed unreliable in a court of law. The entries were penned by Keith Martlet; and their accuracy has neither been confirmed nor denied by any party other than the author himself.
- - -
Monday : 24-08-2015
It has been quite a day today at Martlet Mechanics! I know we have had a rough couple of months financially, but it seems somebody has caught wind of our struggles and sent us a helping hand.
When I arrived at work today, there was a Bentley Continental GT parked in front of the workshop garage; a '14 model. It was a custom build - matte black with carbon-fibre trims, mirrors and hood. There was even a set of expensive Pirelli Road-Racing tyres on it. Everything was street legal, and being a custom build I was confused as to why it was parked at my dingy little workshop when it could have easily been taken to a more 'professional' mechanic.
But that was before I looked inside the car.
On the dashboard was a large cardboard sign reading; "Look Inside."
Normally I wouldn't, even with the sign asking me, but I felt compelled to. I was mesmerized by the car, and in some way it was just influencing me to obey its command.
Oddly enough, the vehicle was unlocked. But it wasn't the luxury leather seats or polished timber dashboard and steering wheel that caught my attention - it was the copper box on the driver's seat. I know that I shouldn't go rummaging around through the items of others, but I was intrigued. I twisted the latch, and the lid sprang up. On the inside of the lid was a sticky-note, with a message neatly penned onto it.
"Hello friend. May good fortune and luck follow your kind heart. Keep this gift, and how you discovered it a secret. In this box you will find the keys to your new car, and a generous amount of money to contribute to the upkeep of this fine establishment."
Sure enough, inside the box was a key to the car, and a stack of cash.
To be more specific: A key to the car, and $5,000.
I don't know who gave this gift to me. The car had no evidence of registration; no number plates; no registration sticker or stamp; no way I could look into this matter without the help of the police.
Who just delivers a car and cash? It could be a prank, or a hidden camera TV show, or just some rich prick deciding to be generous. I don't really know - but it's definitely worth looking into.
The rest of the day was average. After parking the car in the workshop, I finished servicing Ben's SVX. Had to finish early though, to pick up the kids from school; Cath had to work late… again.
I know I'm a bit down on myself at times, but I doubt that this gift was meant for me. I know my family needs the money more than anything right now, but I just don't feel like it's the right thing to do. I'm sure Cath would agree with me, not that I will tell her.
I'll sleep on it, and try to make up my mind tomorrow morning. I might not know who the real owner is, but I'm certain the police can find that out for me.
Tuesday : 25-08-2015
I'm having a few concerns today. Don't get me wrong, we've had a number of customers come in today, and I told my wife she could finish early for once! But, it's just - something a little strange happened.
I was planning to notify the police about the car. I mean, it could be stolen, or the money could be stolen, and that would just fall back on me in so many ways that I'd be in a worse position than I already am. So I turned up to work, ready to put the money back into the car and call the police. But when I opened that copper box to put the money back, there was another note, and another pile of cash.
"A kind heart is good. A true heart is just. Keith, this money, and car, are yours. Do not tell the police, do not tell anybody - for my heart is not as kind as yours.
In the box is $2,500… There is plenty more to come, provided you heed my wish."
Yeah, tell me how fucked up that is? A passive-aggressive threat like that under any other circumstances and I wouldn't think twice about notifying the police. But I had to factor in the money. $7,500 in two days was just too good to pass up. Calling the police would probably result in the cash being taken, and that poses a problem for me because I'm one payment away from losing my house. I just don't have the money, or rather, didn't have the money.
Plus, who's to say this guy won't fuck up my house or workshop for not playing along? I'm not insured, and I just can't afford to pay for any damages. Calling the cops would just make more trouble than I am already in.
But how did the money get into the car? How could somebody possibly get into the workshop when it was locked? I checked everywhere, and there were no forced locks or broken windows. Fuck, even the air vents were closed, so they couldn't have come in through the roof.
So, I've been checkmated. I can't call the police, and I can't just allow somebody to waltz through my workshop after closing hours, especially if they have the nerve to threaten me. But, I called Alan, and using the money, I installed a brand new security system. It was a bit rough working around installing the security and doing repairs for the influx of new customers, but I kept it under control.
Anyway, I'm worrying about the car too much…
I was able to buy the ingredients to cook my family a decent meal tonight. Venison Pies! It's been a while since I've cooked, but my average pies were still a nice change compared to rice and pasta, which we have been eating way too much of. Also took my boys to football training, which was really fun. I haven't gotten a chance to see them play for over a year, and they have improved so much. Hopefully I get enough time off to watch them play their grand final.
Anyway, in writing this I realize how much of a difference that money is making. I still have so many questions - hopefully they will be answered tomorrow.
Wednesday : 26-08-2015
Talk about a stressful day! Let me start from the beginning…
I got to work early, to check on the security tapes. There was absolutely no activity whatsoever, not even the outside floodlights or silent alarms were triggered. I was both happy, and disappointed. But now I just feel uncomfortable, maybe even a certain degree of dread. Upon inspection of the car, there was another note, and no cash.
"You don't trust me Keith? These cameras aren't nearly enough to deter me. Naughty boys receive no gifts. Naughty boys get punished."
Right then and there, the power cut off. There were windows in the workshop so it wasn't exactly dark. But the light itself was enough to make me uncomfortable; the way it glanced over the tables and dusty old cars, illuminating the dirty air and oil stains. It just had an unnatural, uncomfortable feel about it.
Then, out of nowhere, the radio turned on. The news station usually has exceptional reception but for the first time in forever it fizzed and crackled as if there were none. A message then came through the speakers, distorted, but audible enough for me to make out what it was saying.
"Police are now searching for … sports car … perhaps a Rolls … or a Bentley … car has been seen escaping … robberies in the southern rural areas…"
Then, the lights and power came back on. I was mortified, shocked, I couldn't even move for at least a full five minutes. I just sat on the bench with my head in my hands, contemplating what I could possibly do next.
No way I can tell the police, the money has already been put to use. I don't know how these things work, but I'm guessing that the police wont let me keep the cash. I know it sounds greedy but I have to keep the money. We are better off with it in our possession, and it's helping us get out of a rut. I know that it's a dangerous decision to make, especially considering the probable legality issues it would cause - but as they say; you don't win a fight by following rules.
Not one customer came in today, just to pour the salt in my fucking wounds. To the dismay of my family I was shitty at home, even yelled at Ed and made him cry. I've never done that before. My wife didn't even want to sleep with me. I have to sleep on this fucking couch, where I'll get no sleep. I don't know what to do. I'll think about it tomorrow.
Thursday : 27-08-2015
More of the same. Bad luck, bad day. No notes, no cash, no customers, just nothing.
At least I could spend some time with the wife and kids. That would have to be the highlight of my day. At least that didn't go wrong. We went to the park and played some football - had a sunset picnic on the lake. The weather had been pretty cold lately - standard outskirts-of-Melbourne temperature - but today was quite warm and lovely.
The bad luck at work seems to be showing how much I've been taking my family life for granted. It might seem crazy, but I cut the power to the cameras off when I left work today. Maybe this car will converse with me again.
Friday : 28-08-2015
"Trust is very important, Keith. In fact - it's a vital part of human nature. It is good to see you have placed some trust in me, and in return, I will place some trust in you. Inside you will find $10,000. Not only will this pay off the last of your loan on the workshop, but it is also enough to cover your tracks on owning this car.
See; the police are looking for this car. You just need to make sure that 'this' car isn't the car they are looking for.
Do what you do best Keith. All will be well soon."
So, that's what the car said to me this morning.
Yes I know, I'm referring to it as 'the car' because that is easier than saying 'the strange human who fucks with my mind and leaves notes inside a custom built car for me to read'.
All joking aside, I think I understand the meaning behind this cryptic message. I'm going to have to give the car a massive do-over. At least alter the paint and body mods, maybe even the tyres. At least then, the car won't be as plain as day to the police, if they ever see it.
Anyway, just thought I'd write this down during my lunch break. I'm in a good mood; already paid off the loan on the workshop, and already ordered in some new parts for the car. Got some good quality Dunlop Tyres on the way, as well as a new wing and front bumper. The car is going to be a nightmare, but hopefully it's worth it. I might even keep it for myself!
UPDATE - 28-08-2015
There is something seriously wrong.
I tried to service the car but - far out - I've never seen anything like this before in my life.
I started by painting the car, pretty basic stuff. But as soon as the first coat was on, the paint disappeared. Right in front of my eyes, the bright red paint faded away to the original black matte that was there before. I don't know, like that's not even possible, right?
And the oil… I thought it might be worthwhile to give the car an oil-change, as is custom when servicing a motor vehicle. I half expected the tank to be empty, but what came out was even worse.
Like the thick, grimy, shower-plughole hair. Just that, and some oil. Lots of it. It was almost solid, as if it had the texture of a pulled-pork roast, just falling apart into a sloppy mess. And the stench… like a festering corpse.
Look, I don't even want to write about it. I'm just confused.
What is going on? I'm beginning to question whether this car is really a car at all? Maybe it's some high-tech science shit and I'm the test subject. I need to get rid of this thing. I swear, every time I'm around it I just feel wrong. My hair stands up. The air gets really cold even though the heaters in the workshop are set to 28 degrees.
The car seems to be in a slightly different position every time I look at it. The doors lock and unlock at whim. Even tools and other shit around the workshop are in different positions to where I left them.
Sometimes, I even feel like it's watching me…
God, I feel proper mental even thinking that. How about I leave it at that for today, before I start thinking of more insane things to write.
Thank God nobody reads my journal.
Saturday : 29-08-15
I'm a fucking fool, I know.
I tried to work more on the car today, on account of the previous happenings just being co-incidences.
I picked up the new tyres this morning. The morning was just, normal, for a change. No notes or cash in the car, and everything was where I left it last night.
But then I undone the bolts on the tyres. After the first bolt slid out, a thick brown substance followed after it.
Fuck me dead, I think literal litres of it poured out. It was chunky, and the stench was acidic and wretched, like the torn stomach and intestines of a gutshot animal.
It was vomit.
How it got there, I don't know. By the state of it I think it must have accumulated over time, heating up under the car engine and churning into a thick slippery puree. It took me half the day to hose it out of the shed, and that was only after one bolt...
Sunday : 30-08-15
I've been saved!
I woke up this morning to see that a schizophrenic elderly man was arrested after attempting to rob a bank. The getaway vehicle was a stolen Rolls Royce.
This is the same news report I heard on the radio the other day!
This means that my Custom Built Nightmare is not hot, and I can sell the fucking thing. I still don't know what the deal behind the cash and the notes is, but I'd rather not think about it. I've got a dealer from Allen's Automotives to come and pick it up tomorrow morning. He'll be able to sell it no worries.
Anyway, it's my twin boys grand final today. It'll be an awesome day; win or lose. I might even take the family on a cruise next week.
Wednesday : 2-09-15
This entry is not for myself; it is for anybody who finds this journal. I need to get away for a while, hide, because I can't deal with the death of my sons in a prison. So this is probably the last time anybody will hear from me until I can recuperate from the accident. Tell my wife, Catherine Martlet, I love her, and let it be known that the status of her life support is wholly up to her sister.
So here is my account of the events that took place at the Crows Football Grand Final on Sunday 2-08-15.
We had just turned up for the game. We were at the football fields a little early so my sons could get in some extra training before the game. We were some of the only people on the grounds at the time. Cath asked me if I had brought the camera, to which I realized it was still in the car. I walked back into the parking lot to get it, when I heard a car toot at me.
I turned out of instinct, and seen a car in the fog. It was hard to recognize, and I could only make out the lights. I kept walking, but again, the car honked its horn at me.
It rolled out of the fog and into my view. It was the Bentley Continental GT.
"Finally," I thought to myself, marching over to the vehicle, ready to beat the driver to kingdom come. But as I reached the door, my heart sank, and I began to sweat, despite the almost freezing temperature.
The door opened on its own, and on the seat sat the copper box. I reached in and took the box, too intimidated to sit inside the car and read it like I normally would.
The note was simple this time, not cryptic, not mysterious. It read:
"Race you to your family, Keith..."
The Bentley began to rev, and my heart sank. I feared the worst, and with all that had happened recently, I knew to expect it.
My car was twenty meters way, and even though my efforts were in futility, I ran to it. Hastily scrambling with the key to unlock the door and start the engine. The Bentley took off as soon as the ignition to my car turned over, but my Prado had no chance to catch my opponent.
By the time I made it to the football field, the Bentley had already mowed down my family, sending them tumbling through the frosty grass around the field. My wife lay on her back, her legs facing towards the ground and her right arm almost severed from her body. She was still alive, but it would have been kinder for her to have died on the spot.
My sons, their broken and twisted bodies hadn't rolled over the hood like my wife. They instead were sucked underneath and crushed by the wheels. A trail of blood and torn up lawn led to where their unrecognizable corpses lay. Bones protruded from their scalded and torn skin. One of their heads, it wasn't even there anymore - like it had gone under the wheel.
If they weren't wearing their sports Guernseys, I wouldn't have been able to identify them any more than highway roadkill.
In a rage, I kept driving. Past my wife. Past my sons. At a speed of roughly 80km/h I hit the now parked Bentley, T-Boning it in spectacular fashion.
My car flipped onto its roof, and slid along the grass. Glass shattered all around me and the cab filled with the intoxicating smell of burning engine chemicals and fuel.
The Bentley caved in on itself, the force from the impact alone almost tearing it in two. It rolled beside my Prado, its pliable materials tearing and crumpling until it came to a stop.
For a few moments I sat there, waiting for something to happen. I wanted the crash to kill me, and whatever the fucking Bentley was.
Then, in an instant, a loud screech came from the other wreck. Like the sound of chalk on a chalkboard, but deafening. In the space of five seconds, it twisted and morphed back into shape - undoing every last bit of damage the accident had caused to it.
I stared in horror as the car tooted its horn at me, and drove away.
- - -
That was the entirety of what was leaked. These entries were quickly removed from many internet websites and seized from the media shortly after their release; however the efforts were futile. Many believe the accounts to be a work of fiction; the ramblings of an unstable madman mechanic - but there are those who believe there was a certain degree of truth behind these accounts.
Unfortunately, the case and the publicity behind the leaked journal entries quickly withered away after Keith Martlet was found deceased in a Bentley Continental GT on the 24/10/2015, as a result of carbon monoxide poisoning. To this date, the Martlet case remains unsolved - the police unable to gather any further evidence after the Bentley Continental GT disappeared from evidence less than 48 hours after it was impounded.
Written by Anarchic Operations