of the suicide victims. Decipherable, these related to an initiation ceremony, the final stage of which was ritual asphyxiation. Although the five youths had not died together, it was firmly believed that the deaths were somehow connected and that they had been involved in a very sinister organisation.
It emerged that this group of five had in fact been friends. Their ages varied, ranging from 17 to 22, but they all assembled together regularly in a basement. The basement, police discovered, contained a satanic altar, and the walls were adorned with signs of the devil, and secret messages which could not be understood.
The fourth of the quintet to die, Sergei Sidorov, had confided in his mother prior to his death that he was involved in something from which he could not escape. He told her that he was a satanist, but that even though he knew it was wrong he could not break out. When the father of Stas Buslov, a friend of Sergei who had died just before him, was informed of the details which were coming to light, he did some research of his own. He discovered that, in the previous year in the Tyumen region, 36 deaths by hanging had been recorded. All were aged between 12 and 22.
Despite having amassed no evidence to confirm that these were the actions of cult members, police believed that the deaths must have been the work of some kind of satanic cult. In March 1997, they launched a search for its leaders. It is rumoured that the head of the cult was a man in his early forties. With the help of two, younger assistants, he is believed to play on the naivety of the innocent, local children, persuading them to join him and his followers. Whether the deaths of the children of Tyumen were acts of murder, or whether their suicides were encouraged, or even demanded, is unlikely ever to be revealed. The police enquiries have so far been unsuccessful and it looks increasingly improbable that the truth will ever be revealed.
Section Two: Cult Killings
Adolfo De Jesus Constanzo
Murder in Matamoros, Mexico
In 1989, only three months since New Year’s Day, 60 people had been reported missing in the region of Matamoros, Mexico. Whether or not this was common knowledge, it would not have deterred the spring-break students of that year who had been planning their holiday, as generations of college-leavers had done for over 50 years before them, in the vice-ridden border town. Matamoros was the obvious choice for the fresh-faced students who had just completed their exams and wanted to party in a town where prostitution, sex-shows, drugs and alcohol were freely available. Matamoros was easily accessible across the Rio Grande from Brownsville in Texas, and so the students, an estimated 250,000 per year, came in their droves. In March 1989, Mark Kilroy was one of the college students to make the same time-honoured journey. Yet, unlike the others, he was never to return.
Mark Kilroy, however, did not simply become the 61st person to go missing. When his disappearance was reported his family demanded action, and his was a family with connections in high places. Immediately, a $15,000 reward was offered for either returning Mark safely to his family, or for information on who was responsible for his disappearance. The US Customs Service, who feared the involvement of Mexico’s evil drug traffickers, and the Texas authorities, kept up the pressure on the case in the USA, while in Mexico, the police in Matamoros began to question 127 of the area’s known criminals. In spite of trying to extract the required information by way of beating and torturing, the Mexican police were given no leads. It seemed to them that Mark Kilroy had simply ‘disappeared’.
O CCULT A CTIVITY
As the search for Mark continued in Mexico, the police were beginning another of their routine drug crackdowns. Knowing that they were not able to permeate the inner circles of the Mexican drug barons directly, the police used roadblocks at border