Brogus was sent to the Asylum in the mid 1980's for the grizzly death of his own family. Brogus made the phonecall to the police and to quote, "Hi, I'm reporting a murder. It's my family - they are all dead, by the strength of my own hands. Help me..."
In order: Twin daughters Anna and Joyce (11), his older son Kyle (19) and his wife Jane (43) all suffered from strangulation/suffocation before death. The results were much more disturbing when analysing the bodies of Anna and Joyce, who had both suffered from sexual abuse moments before their death. Brogus' ejaculation had been discovered on a swab taken from Anna and Joyce's bodies, having seen a slimy substance on their legs/vaginal area. The results showed that Brogus had sexual intercourse with his daughters in front of his son Kyle and his wife Jane before killing them too, accordingly. Kyle died the same way his Mother had, suffering from nothing more than a lack of oxygen and brute force. The autopsy for Kyle however, displayed strange dents all around his skull, later discovered to be punch wounds. These were not recently done.
What caused Brogus to act this way? Something the BnK Court indeed had uncovered: He is plain crazy. His wife had a restraining order put on him back in 1975 when Brogus went through multiple episodes of screaming and yelling at his son Kyle - to beating him as he got older. The Court discovered Brogus would beat on his son for a simple 'rise'. At first, it was a light-handed slap on the back of the head and a 'go to your room'. Then, Brogus would use his knuckles tightly in a fist, and punch his son in his temples/general head area. Kyle had always complained of having severe headaches, yet nobody but Brogus knew of the truth.
The restraining order stated that Brogus Sampson (real name) is to stay at least 5 miles distance from his family at all times of the week, minus Monday morning where he gets 10am-11am to spend time with his family. So long as his Wife is there and is comfortable with that. Either way, she didn't have a say in it, and for years Brogus ignored the restraining order and only got worse with time.
1975 through to 1986 (the year of the incident), Brogus spent these years tormenting his family. His wife Jane was forced to sleep in the same bed as him. He would stroke his dirty bastard hands all over her every single night, and every night she'd spend crying and sore. Brogus told the Court, "I'd be on top, and I'd tell her what I'm going to do to our daughter's, and try it on her first before I do it. She would lay silently crying and tears would fall. I would wipe them from her face and lick my hand, telling her to enjoy me in her. No, she never liked it, but I did."
The Asylum where Brogus has lived for all this time had been closed down in 1993, due to the slaughtering of over 30 patients. One patient Yemmy Cassidy, a stocky-mountain of a Man broke out of his cell and during his adventure, killed 30 patients and 2 guards all with a toothpick, stabbing them in their necks and wrists. All but Brogus, who in 1993 had narrowly missed being killed by Yemmy. Brogus was in the room he is in today, undergoing the usual tests and treatments that every patient had to have. This room remains locked from the inside unless a member of staff has the key to unlock it. The only guards that day had been killed, leaving Brogus trapped. The Asylum was closed down and all patients were assumed dead.
Last night at The Mansion we heard Brogus screaming. It was a sharp 2am, where only the sounds of a tumbling 7UP can be heard peacefully rolling down his Corridor. This was interrupted by an intense yelling, a real, back-of-the-throat shouting. It rang through the floors and echoed through Hugh's pipelines. The investigation was only short as we knew that below the Basement lay the old Asylum, and that whatever it was, was coming from in there.
Paul Cronus Jr. and Mike lead this short story:
'We arrived at the entrance of the Asylum. Nobody had been down here in a dog's age. It was cob-webbed and decaying all over with an old, dry stench of blood and sweat which had dropped from the Basement above our heads. The floor was a maroon colour, the blood had stained the once chalky-white floors of the Asylum.
Mike tried for a while to open the door, it was padlocked entirely in large chains three-times over. They had rusted with time into a harshly-locked puzzle, which Mike dealt with by simply spearing the door as fast as possible, crashing through into the cold Asylum.
The atmosphere was typical of an abandoned Asylum. It was almost as if screams were still echoing around us, a definite ghostly vibe lurked behind each Cell and in every Corridor. It was absolutely freezing down here, as if the coldest Winter had never left - even Mike was shivering, that was a first.
We proceeded down Corridors and corners for a good while, using our torches to examine the darker areas but finding nothing amiss. The cold really didn't help, I just wanted to go back by this point. I said to myself, '5 more minutes' before leaving, and as if that was my answer, Mike picked an unfamiliar scent up.
He paced onwards like a drug dog, I had to act quick and sharp to keep up with him. Mike sniffed everywhere, appearing to find something new the more he walked. I no longer felt cold as fear and adrenaline kicked in. I was no holding onto Mike's chain, he really was like a dog - only he was walking me. I'd asked multiple times what it was he was smelling but he didn't answer. Not until I speedily crashed into his pulsatingly muscly back...He had stopped so quickly, outside Patient Room #37.
I stepped toward the door by Mike, asking him to stay back a little as I knocked on. I delivered 5 fast, normal knocks. They seemed extremely loud and echoed down the dreary and unhappy Corridors. Immediately afterwards, a scurrying sound of paper on a sandy floor was heard. Much like something extremely fast pacing into a a more protected area to examine what was coming. I knew this sound all too-well having been in the Mansion for all this time. It was a similar sound to how Scran travels around, thus I knocked another 5 more times followed by, "is anybody in there?" A reply? "Shhh.." ever so peacefully came from inside Patient Room #37.
I looked at Mike with confused shock, his blind face carried the same expression. We knew this was Brogus Fate's room. I whispered into Mike's ear, 'on the count of 3...' 1..2..3! -- Mike charged once again at the door, destroying it entirely along with the frame of the doorway and a large majority of wall. The wall was made of plasterboard and over time had rotted through damp, not leaving as much of a dust-cloud as I was expecting. All happening so very fast, we remained now inside the room, COMPLETELY silent as we could be. We saw who it was.
3 guards were working on the day of Yemmy's Asylum attack, but only 2 were ever acknowledged. The third and forgotten was guard Lucy Price. A beautiful woman, young, and perhaps too pretty for a job involving rapists and psycopaths? But it wasn't like prison here. She never had sexual abuse hurled at her on the daily - just rarely by the likes of Brogus himself. This was back in 93, when Lucy was a starting guard at 22 years of age.
Now 42, she looked miserable and old, ugly and famished, tortured and starved. It was Lucy locked away in Patient Room #37, screaming and yelling for any sign of human contact to come and save her. She was as pale as 'white'. Her veins a sky blue that wormed outwards all over her body, the vein on her forehead made her look less human, and her eyes were pearl-red with a tiny pupil in the middle of a once pretty green-eyed girl. Deep black bags hung under her eyes and her teeth were no-more. Examining the room, it looked exactly like 20 years of life, with an unreal pile of body hair in one corner and finger nails and teeth in another. She lay hunched in the middle of the room, bending over and gripping a table leg. The desk was pushed onto its side and Lucy had a tight grip on the leg for some reason. She wasn't clothed and her body had scratch marks all over it. She didn't respond to me or Mike, we just stood in pure shock, as we imagine she did to us, too. Slowly, I step my left foot forward with my hands in a balancing motion, as if to show my caring consideration. It worked, until a scatter of objects clanked from behind Lucy in a side room where files of the patients were stored in the more lively days of the Asylum. I pause in my tracks, Lucy jumped and she turned her head toward noise - Lucy finally reacted.
She turns back to us, this time much slower and lifts her Grandmother-looking hand from the table leg and raises it to her mouth. Extremely slow and jittery, her veiny and leathery skinned index finger lifted a "Shh.." over her mouth. My eyes now wide with more fear, I wave my hand over to Mike and grab ahold of his shoulder, for safety reasons. Pressure came from nowhere, and Lucy's sore face still shh'ing me didn't help. I felt flushed and definitely trapped here. I couldn't get my eyes off of the room behind Lucy, though I didn't want to 'not' look. I tried to step back quietly, but instead standing on a chunk of wall, sharply breaking what silence we had just gathered.
Lucy's hand dropped as if to say 'welldone', and in came Brogus Fate from the back room. It was like we had teased a spiderweb with a stick, and the biggest, scariest spider emerged to see what it was. That was Brogus. He travelled using his hands aswell as his feet, and his elongated body measured at probably 18ft manuevered amazingly well. He was frightening and had changed considerably since last seeing him at the Asylum. Darkness must do strange things to a person...
Scurrying into the ceiling corner, Brogus marked the whole floor to ceiling with his abnormally adapted body. Mike protected me as I watched from behind him. I looked to the left of Mike and saw that Lucy was crying. She was silently crying as if she had mastered doing this, or obviously, 20 years of this. Looking back at Brogus - he had gone.
Panic washed over me, Mike of course can't see. I felt alone here, I didn't know where to look without jumping out of my skin. If I saw this monster in surprise, I'd surely soil myself. I kept my cool and held tight onto Mike's chains. Then I saw it. Lucy was mute, but squirming uncomfortably. I knew it...Brogus was doing something - I picked a Mike-blade from his side pouch and impatiently stepped towards Lucy, in hopes to stab Brogus right in the face!
My luck ended as what I saw still haunts me today. Behind the desk where Lucy was lay, she held onto the table leg: for support. She was decapitated completely in half, surviving 'somehow'. Her legs were nowhere to be seen at the minute, and Brogus was feeding off of the open wound that was Lucy's insides. She lay a stump, quivering and twitching in the face. To my horror, I held in vomit and ducked out of the room, releasing it in no particular area all over the floor. It was the smell coming from Lucy's decapitated body, so dense and putrid, not to mention the maggots seemingly all over the place.'
Brogus Fate is now part of The Mansion. The door to the Asylum has been left open, with half promises to rebuild and bring it back to life to a better Asylum. One where Brogus can live until his death - we have since placed a 'Workers on site' sign outside the entrance of.the Asylum. The sign was found the next morning, bent in half and scratched up. It seems Brogus doesn't want the change.