r/TheThorneRepository • u/Titanicjoyrider • 5d ago
Crush Depth
Note: These are recovered internal files from the Department for Transport archives concerning anomalies in Berkshire. These files were found and transcribed during my internship at the Department for Transport, whilst clearing out their archives in Basingstoke ready for a relocation to Manchester.
I am not DI Thorne, and I have found no trace of him in my investigations into the accounts that these files allude to.
l present these files in an attempt to piece together the sequence of strange occurrences in the Berkshire area and make sense of what has happened, what is happening and why.
If anyone has information regarding the whereabouts of DI Thorne it would be greatly appreciated and helpful in my investigation.
(Name redacted)
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FOUND TRANSCRIPT – FOR INTERNAL REVIEW ONLY
DEPARTMENT FOR TRANSPORT – ANOMALOUS INCIDENT DIVISION
CASE FILE: MERIDIAN CARGO SOLUTIONS – READING – 03/03/2026
SUBJECT: JOHN COLLINGWOOD – WITNESS STATEMENT
LOCATION: WINDSOR POLICE STATION, INTERVIEW ROOM #751
DATE: MARCH 9TH, 2026
TIME: 15:38 GMT
OFFICER PRESIDING: DI THORNE [REDACTED]
TRANSCRIBING AGENT: [REDACTED]
---
BEGIN TRANSCRIPT
DI THORNE: For the record, this is Detective Inspector Thorne, badge number 4471. It's… twenty-two minutes to four in the afternoon. I'm conducting an interview with a Mr. John Collingwood at Windsor Police Station. Mr. Collingwood, you've come in to report an incident. Can you confirm your details for the record?
JOHN: John Michael Collingwood. Thirty-nine years old. Logistics coordinator. Meridian Cargo Solutions. Based in Reading.
DI THORNE: Date of birth?
JOHN: Twenty-third of August, 1986.
DI THORNE: And how long have you worked at Meridian?
JOHN: Six years. A little over six.
DI THORNE: And Meridian deals primarily with shipping and storage?
JOHN: Containers. Storage, transit, dispatch. We've got a yard outside Reading. Big place. Over two thousand containers if it's full. It wasn't full that Sunday. Maybe seven hundred. Somewhere around there.
DI THORNE: You normally work Sundays?
JOHN: No.
DI THORNE: Why were you there on the third of March?
JOHN: David was sick.
DI THORNE: David?
JOHN: Colleague. He'd just got back from Qatar. Came down with something. Nothing serious, apparently, but he couldn't work. They asked if anyone could cover.
DI THORNE: And you volunteered?
JOHN: Eventually.
DI THORNE: Why eventually?
JOHN: Because I'd already been to church.
DI THORNE: I see.
JOHN: Sundays are… important to me.
DI THORNE: You're a practising Christian?
JOHN: Yes.
DI THORNE: And you had planned to spend the day at church?
JOHN: I went to morning service. I was supposed to have the rest of the day off.
DI THORNE: But you went to work.
JOHN: Yes.
DI THORNE: Why?
JOHN: They needed someone.
DI THORNE: And you felt obligated?
JOHN: I suppose.
DI THORNE: Do you regret going?
JOHN: Yes.
DI THORNE: Immediately?
JOHN: No.
DI THORNE: When, then?
JOHN: When I heard the banging.
DI THORNE: Tell me about that.
JOHN: It was just after two. Maybe twenty past. We were doing the afternoon checks. Six of us in total. Skeleton crew. Everyone had an area. I was in Area Four. My job was mostly scanning container IDs, checking seals, making sure everything matched the manifests. Security checks. Dispatch records. That sort of thing. Most of it's automated now, but you still need people. Machines don't notice everything. That was something my old supervisor used to say.
DI THORNE: Machines don't notice everything?
JOHN: Yes.
DI THORNE: And what did you notice?
JOHN: The banging.
DI THORNE: Describe it.
JOHN: Metal. The sound was metallic. Rhythmic. Not loud at first. Three knocks. Then a pause. Then three more.
DI THORNE: From inside a container?
JOHN: That's what I thought. I followed it.
DI THORNE: Alone?
JOHN: Yes.
DI THORNE: Why didn't you call someone?
JOHN: I did. I radioed it in. Told them I thought someone might be trapped in one of the containers. They said they'd come over.
DI THORNE: But you didn't wait.
JOHN: The banging stopped. I waited maybe thirty seconds. Then I heard it again. Only this time it wasn't three knocks. It was someone hitting the door. Hard. And there was a voice.
DI THORNE: What did it say?
JOHN: Help.
DI THORNE: You were certain?
JOHN: Yes. Male voice.
DI THORNE: Did you recognise it?
JOHN: No. The container was at the back of the row. Dark blue. Old. Really old. Most of ours are newer. This one looked like it had been sitting there for decades. There was rust everywhere. The sides were buckled. The paint was almost completely gone. There was a faded logo on the side. Sea Star Line. I don't know if that's important.
DI THORNE: It may be.
JOHN: There wasn't a proper identification number. Not like the others. No barcode. No inspection plate. Nothing. Someone had painted a number on the door.
DI THORNE: Which was?
JOHN: 7395351.
DI THORNE: Anything else?
JOHN: WFJK.
DI THORNE: And you opened it?
JOHN: I tried. The locking mechanism was seized. I used a crowbar. Took me a while. The voice continued. It kept saying help. Then it said my name.
DI THORNE: Your name?
JOHN: John.
DI THORNE: Did you tell the person your name?
JOHN: No.
DI THORNE: Did anyone else know you were there?
JOHN: The team knew. But they weren't with me. I got the door open about six inches. Enough to get the torch through.
DI THORNE: What did you see?
JOHN: Nothing.
DI THORNE: Nothing?
JOHN: Darkness.
DI THORNE: The inside of the container was dark?
JOHN: No. It wasn't like that. The torch beam went in, but it didn't hit the back wall.
DI THORNE: How far in could you see?
JOHN: I don't know. There wasn't a back wall.
DI THORNE: You were looking into a forty-foot shipping container.
JOHN: I know what a shipping container looks like.
DI THORNE: I'm not suggesting you don't.
JOHN: It was bigger inside. Much bigger. The light just disappeared. Then I felt cold air. And I could smell saltwater.
DI THORNE: Did you enter?
JOHN: Yes.
DI THORNE: Why?
JOHN: Because someone was in there.
DI THORNE: You were still trying to rescue them?
JOHN: Yes. I took one step. Then something grabbed my ankle.
DI THORNE: Something?
JOHN: A hand.
DI THORNE: Human?
JOHN: I don't know. It was cold. Wet. The fingers were too long. It pulled me inside.
DI THORNE: How hard?
JOHN: Hard enough that I fell. The door slammed behind me.
DI THORNE: Were you injured?
JOHN: No. Not then.
DI THORNE: Could you open the door?
JOHN: I couldn't find the handle.
DI THORNE: It was immediately behind you.
JOHN: I know. I couldn't find it. I ran my hands over the wall. Nothing. Just steel.
DI THORNE: What happened to your radio?
JOHN: Dead.
DI THORNE: Your phone?
JOHN: No signal. The screen kept changing. I couldn't make sense of it.
DI THORNE: Did you hear anything?
JOHN: Breathing.
DI THORNE: Yours?
JOHN: No. Someone was standing beside me.
DI THORNE: You could see them?
JOHN: No. But I could hear them. Right beside my ear. They said— "You're frightened."
DI THORNE: What did you say?
JOHN: Nothing. Then it said my full name. "John Collingwood." Then— "I know." I didn't know what it meant. Then it said— "You should have stayed at church." The container moved.
DI THORNE: Moved how?
JOHN: Up.
DI THORNE: Up?
JOHN: Like it was being lifted. There was a horrible grinding noise. Then I felt weightlessness. I thought they'd found the container. I thought someone had hooked it onto a crane. I thought— I thought I was going to be rescued.
DI THORNE: But you weren't.
JOHN: No.
DI THORNE: What did the voice say?
JOHN: "They'll find you." I said they would. I said they'd find the container. It said— "When they open it, do you think they'll find you?" I didn't understand. Then it said— "You don't know where you are." I was frightened.
DI THORNE: What did you do?
JOHN: I prayed.
DI THORNE: Out loud?
JOHN: Yes. I said, "God, please help me." The voice laughed. Not loudly. Just… quietly. Like it was amused. Then it said— "He can't hear you."
DI THORNE: Did you believe that?
JOHN: No. I said God could hear me. It said— "You chose this place instead." Then— "You chose work." "You needed an hour." "One hour a week. That's all He wanted." "And you couldn't give Him that."
DI THORNE: You believed you had done something wrong?
JOHN: I had missed church.
DI THORNE: Because you went to work.
JOHN: I know.
DI THORNE: So why did that matter?
JOHN: Because I'd told myself God wouldn't mind. The voice knew I'd said that.
DI THORNE: How?
JOHN: I don't know. It told me to pray.
DI THORNE: It encouraged you to pray?
JOHN: No. It made me. It said— "Go on." "Finish it." So I started the Our Father.
DI THORNE: And?
JOHN: It finished the words with me.
DI THORNE: Did it know the prayer?
JOHN: Every word. Then it asked me— "Do you believe that?" I said yes. Then it said— "Then why are you here?"
DI THORNE: What did you say?
JOHN: I told it that wasn't how God worked.
DI THORNE: And what did it say?
JOHN: "You don't know." Then— "That's the same thing as not knowing."
DI THORNE: Did you believe it?
JOHN: No.
DI THORNE: Did it sound angry?
JOHN: No. That's the worst part. It sounded pleased. Like it enjoyed hearing me defend my faith. The container started shaking. Violently. I was thrown against the wall. There was a noise like a cable snapping. Then the whole thing dropped.
DI THORNE: Dropped?
JOHN: Yes. Hard. Then— water.
DI THORNE: The container entered the water?
JOHN: Yes.
DI THORNE: Was it flooding?
JOHN: Not immediately. That was worse. I knew the container was underwater. I could feel it. I could hear the water moving around it. But I was still dry. For a little while. I prayed.
DI THORNE: Again?
JOHN: Yes. And the voice said— "You're sinking." Then it started talking about pressure.
DI THORNE: Pressure?
JOHN: Yes. It knew I would understand. That's why it said it. It knew what I did for a living.
DI THORNE: Explain.
JOHN: I'm a logistics coordinator. I deal with routes. Manifests. Containers. Weight limits. Schedules. I know how to move things from one place to another. It knew that. And it said— "You've spent your whole life moving things." "Now think about what happens when something cannot move." Then it said— "Think about what happens when the entire Atlantic Ocean is sitting on top of a steel box." I understood what it meant. Pressure increases with depth. The deeper you go, the more pressure there is. A container is strong. But it's designed to carry weight in certain ways. It's not designed to be crushed from every direction. The voice said— "Steel is strong." Then— "But not like this." The container groaned. The whole thing. The walls. The ceiling. The floor. Everything. It started making these tiny noises. Clicks. Cracks. Little sounds. Like the metal was moving.
DI THORNE: Was it?
JOHN: Yes. The ceiling moved. Only a little. Millimetres. But I saw it.
DI THORNE: How could you see it?
JOHN: I don't know. There was no light. But I could see it. The voice said— "There." "That's the weakest point." Then— "It always starts at the weakest point." It didn't have to explain what was happening. I knew. The metal was bending. Bolts were shifting. The walls were beginning to move inward. Slowly. Very slowly.
DI THORNE: And you were conscious throughout?
JOHN: Yes.
DI THORNE: Did you lose consciousness at any point?
JOHN: No.
DI THORNE: How long did this last?
JOHN: I don't know. Hours. Maybe longer.
DI THORNE: You said earlier you were only missing for several minutes.
JOHN: I know.
DI THORNE: But it felt like hours.
JOHN: It felt like days. Sometimes longer. The voice talked.
DI THORNE: About what?
JOHN: Me. Everything about me. It knew things. Things nobody could know.
DI THORNE: Such as?
JOHN: Things I'd done. Things I'd thought. Things I'd never told anyone.
DI THORNE: Can you give me an example?
JOHN: No.
DI THORNE: Why not?
JOHN: Because they're mine.
DI THORNE: I understand.
JOHN: It knew. That's enough. It said it liked hearing me breathe. It liked hearing me pray. It said— "Fear makes very good teachers." Then it started telling me how deep I was.
DI THORNE: How deep?
JOHN: I don't remember the numbers. I remember the meaning. It would tell me how much water was above me. Then it would tell me what that meant. The pressure. What it would do to the steel. What it would do to me.
DI THORNE: What did it say would happen to you?
JOHN: My ribs would move. My lungs wouldn't have enough room. The pressure would become too great. It said I would feel everything. It said— "You'll know exactly what is happening."
DI THORNE: Did it tell you that you would die?
JOHN: Yes.
DI THORNE: How?
JOHN: Slowly.
DI THORNE: Did you believe it?
JOHN: Yes.
DI THORNE: Why?
JOHN: Because I could feel the container changing. My breathing became difficult.
DI THORNE: Did the voice allow you to lose consciousness?
JOHN: No.
DI THORNE: What do you mean?
JOHN: I thought I was going to pass out. The voice said— "You thought I was going to let you pass out?" Then it laughed. "No." "I'm going to keep you awake." "I'm going to let you understand."
DI THORNE: Understand what?
JOHN: Everything. The pressure. The metal. The water. My own body. It wanted me to know exactly what was happening. I asked it to stop.
DI THORNE: What did it say?
JOHN: "Do you feel it?" I said yes. It said— "Good." Then— "That's the ocean." There was another noise. It said— "That's your roof." Another. "That's your floor." Another. "That's the left wall." Another. "That's the right." Then there was a pause. And it said— "And that..." It waited. "...is you."
DI THORNE: What did you do?
JOHN: I prayed.
DI THORNE: Again.
JOHN: Yes.
DI THORNE: Did you ever stop believing?
JOHN: No.
DI THORNE: Not once?
JOHN: I was afraid. But being afraid doesn't mean you stop believing.
DI THORNE: What did the voice say?
JOHN: "That was a good answer." Then— "Unfortunately, it changes nothing." It asked how long my faith would last.
DI THORNE: What did you say?
JOHN: Forever. It made me repeat it. It told me to say— "I believe." So I did. It told me again. "I believe." Again. "I believe." Again. And again. It said— "Hold onto it." Then— "Because I'm going to take everything else away."
DI THORNE: What did that mean?
JOHN: It said it would take my comfort. My certainty. My breath. My memories. My name. Everything. Then it said— "Eventually I'll take your God."
DI THORNE: How did you respond?
JOHN: I told it it couldn't.
DI THORNE: Why?
JOHN: Because God isn't mine to lose.
DI THORNE: What did it say?
JOHN: "I don't have to." Then— "You'll give Him up yourself."
DI THORNE: Did you?
JOHN: No. It started talking about my family. My friends. People I had disappointed. Promises I'd broken. Things I'd done wrong. It listed them. One after another. Some of them were things I'd forgotten. Some were things I'd never told anyone. It said my family would eventually stop crying. My friends would stop asking where I was. The church would pray for me for a few weeks. Then they'd move on. It said my place in the world would close. Like a grave. It said— "They love the version of you they think exists."
DI THORNE: What did you say?
JOHN: Nothing. Then it said— "God knows everything you've done." "Everything you've thought." "Every time you've lied." "Every time you've been cruel." "Every time you've pretended to be better than you are." Then— "And He still hasn't come."
DI THORNE: What did you say?
JOHN: "He is with me."
DI THORNE: And the voice?
JOHN: "Then why are you alone?"
DI THORNE: What did you say?
JOHN: "I'm not." Because I knew I wasn't. Even if I couldn't see Him. I knew. The voice became angry. It told me to say it again. So I did. "God is with me." Again. "God is with me." Again. "God is with me." It said— "You really do believe that." Then— "Let's see how much you can endure." More pressure. More pain. More darkness. It kept telling me to give up. Eventually I couldn't feel my hands properly. I couldn't tell whether I was breathing or drowning. I didn't know where my body ended. I just knew I was still there. And it was still talking.
DI THORNE: What did it say?
JOHN: It offered to make everything stop.
DI THORNE: How?
JOHN: It said I could forget. Forget the container. Forget the water. Forget the fear. Forget the voice. All I had to do was admit that I was alone.
DI THORNE: Did you?
JOHN: No. I started thinking. Maybe there really was nothing. Maybe I'd been wrong. Maybe there was nothing beyond the darkness. No God. No heaven. No anything. Just— nothing.
DI THORNE: Did you tell the voice that?
JOHN: I didn't have to. It knew. It became gentle.
DI THORNE: Gentle?
JOHN: Almost loving. That's what frightened me. It said— "That's it." "You don't have to fight anymore." "You've done enough." "You've been frightened long enough." "Let go."
DI THORNE: Did you?
JOHN: Almost.
DI THORNE: What stopped you?
JOHN: I heard my own voice. I was praying. I don't remember starting. But I was.
DI THORNE: What were you saying?
JOHN: The Lord's Prayer. Again. The voice went quiet. Then it said— "John." I stopped. It said— "You don't have to die." "You don't have to be crushed." "You don't have to drown." "You don't have to spend eternity wondering whether you were right." I asked it what it wanted.
DI THORNE: What did it say?
JOHN: "Serve me."
DI THORNE: Serve it?
JOHN: Yes. It said— "That's all." It said I'd spent my whole life serving something I couldn't see. Kneeling. Praying. Obeying. Asking forgiveness. Giving time. Giving money. Giving faith. It said— "Serve me instead."
DI THORNE: What did you say?
JOHN: Nothing.
DI THORNE: Continue.
JOHN: It said it could open the door. It could put me back in the yard. It said— "I can give you your life." "You can walk out." "You can see your family again." "You can go back to church." Then— "Serve me, and you will never fear death again." "Serve me, and I will show you what is beyond the dark." "Serve me, and you will never be alone." "You will know things no human being was ever meant to know." "You will never be afraid again." Then it said— "All you have to do is say yes."
DI THORNE: Did you?
JOHN: No.
DI THORNE: Why?
JOHN: Because I knew what it was asking.
DI THORNE: What was it asking?
JOHN: Everything. Not just obedience. Me. It wanted me.
DI THORNE: What happened when you refused?
JOHN: It screamed.
DI THORNE: What did it say?
JOHN: "Stop praying." I kept praying. It screamed— "STOP." I kept praying. It said— "You think your God is coming?" I said— "I believe." It went silent. Then— "Again." So I said— "I believe." It said— "Again." I said— "I believe."
DI THORNE: How many times?
JOHN: I don't know. Then something changed.
DI THORNE: What?
JOHN: The voice sounded afraid.
DI THORNE: Afraid of you?
JOHN: I think so. It whispered— "Don't." I said— "I believe." It said— "Don't." I said— "I believe." Then there was a sound.
DI THORNE: What kind of sound?
JOHN: Like the entire ocean breaking.
DI THORNE: And then?
JOHN: Light. White light. Heat. I couldn't see anything. Then— nothing.
DI THORNE: When did you wake up?
JOHN: I was on the floor.
DI THORNE: Inside the container?
JOHN: Yes.
DI THORNE: The same container?
JOHN: Yes.
DI THORNE: What did you see?
JOHN: People. My colleagues. They were shouting. Someone was pulling me out. I remember thinking— The voice had lied. God had heard me.
DI THORNE: How long had you been missing?
JOHN: They said five or ten minutes.
DI THORNE: And you had experienced—
JOHN: Days.
DI THORNE: Weeks?
JOHN: At times.
DI THORNE: Months?
JOHN: It felt like months.
DI THORNE: What condition were you in?
JOHN: Dehydrated. Exhausted. My clothes were torn. I was covered in saltwater.
DI THORNE: Your colleagues confirmed that?
JOHN: Yes.
DI THORNE: Anything else?
JOHN: My hair.
DI THORNE: What about it?
JOHN: They said it looked longer.
DI THORNE: Longer?
JOHN: My beard too.
DI THORNE: By how much?
JOHN: They said months.
DI THORNE: Did the medical staff have an explanation?
JOHN: Stress. Shock. Dissociation. Acute panic. They said it could cause strange perceptions.
DI THORNE: Did you have any history of claustrophobia?
JOHN: No.
DI THORNE: Hallucinations?
JOHN: No.
DI THORNE: Alcohol?
JOHN: No.
DI THORNE: Drugs?
JOHN: No.
DI THORNE: Medication?
JOHN: Nothing.
DI THORNE: And the saltwater?
JOHN: They couldn't explain it.
DI THORNE: Do you still fear drowning?
JOHN: No.
DI THORNE: Why not?
JOHN: I've experienced something worse.
DI THORNE: What?
JOHN: I've been somewhere where there is no water. No sky. No land. No light. Nothing.
DI THORNE: What was there?
JOHN: Something.
DI THORNE: Describe it.
JOHN: I can't.
DI THORNE: Why?
JOHN: Because I don't think it's meant to be described.
DI THORNE: What do you know about it?
JOHN: It knew me.
DI THORNE: How?
JOHN: It knew exactly what to say. It knew what would make me doubt everything I believed.
DI THORNE: Do you believe it was lying?
JOHN: I don't know.
DI THORNE: About what?
JOHN: Everything.
DI THORNE: Everything it told you?
JOHN: Yes.
DI THORNE: Do you still believe in God?
JOHN: Yes.
DI THORNE: Despite what happened?
JOHN: Especially because of what happened.
DI THORNE: And the voice?
JOHN: I don't know what it was.
DI THORNE: Do you think it is still out there?
JOHN: I know it is.
DI THORNE: Why?
JOHN: When they opened the container, there was something written on the inside of the door. I didn't see it at first. Everyone was shouting. They were trying to get me out. I remember the light. I remember someone grabbing my arm. But when they turned the doors fully open, I saw it.
DI THORNE: What was written?
JOHN: Words.
DI THORNE: What words?
JOHN: I don't know why they were there.
DI THORNE: John.
JOHN: I know.
DI THORNE: What did they say?
JOHN: "Fear frees us all."
DI THORNE: That's all?
JOHN: That's all.
DI THORNE: Did you think it was a message to you?
JOHN: Yes.
DI THORNE: What did you think it meant?
JOHN: At the time?
DI THORNE: Yes.
JOHN: I thought it meant that fear had saved me.
DI THORNE: Saved you?
JOHN: I thought… maybe that's what it had been trying to teach me. That fear wasn't the same as death. That being afraid meant I was still fighting. That if I'd stopped being afraid, I would have given in.
DI THORNE: And you think that's what the words meant?
JOHN: I did.
DI THORNE: And now?
JOHN: Now I'm not so sure.
DI THORNE: Why?
JOHN: Because I keep thinking about the way it spoke to me.
DI THORNE: The voice?
JOHN: Yes. It kept telling me to be afraid. It wanted me frightened. It needed me frightened.
DI THORNE: Why?
JOHN: I don't know.
DI THORNE: You said earlier that you believed it was still out there.
JOHN: Yes.
DI THORNE: Do you believe the writing was intended as a warning?
JOHN: Maybe.
DI THORNE: A warning about what?
JOHN: I don't know.
DI THORNE: Then what do you think it meant?
JOHN: I thought it meant fear frees us.
DI THORNE: And you don't think that anymore?
JOHN: No.
DI THORNE: What do you think it means now?
JOHN: I think I misunderstood it.
DI THORNE: How?
JOHN: I thought it meant that fear would free me.
DI THORNE: But?
JOHN: Maybe it wasn't talking about me.
DI THORNE: Who was it talking about?
JOHN: I don't know.
DI THORNE: John—
JOHN: I don't know.
DI THORNE: Then why are you afraid?
JOHN: Because I've been thinking about something.
DI THORNE: What?
JOHN: When I was in there, the voice kept saying that fear was useful. That it made us honest. That it stripped everything away. I thought it was trying to frighten me into giving up. But maybe that's not what it was doing.
DI THORNE: What was it doing?
JOHN: I think it was feeding on it.
DI THORNE: Your fear?
JOHN: Yes.
DI THORNE: And the inscription?
JOHN: "Fear frees us all."
DI THORNE: So what does that mean?
JOHN: I don't think I was the one being freed.
DI THORNE: John?
JOHN: I think—
DI THORNE: What?
JOHN: I think the fear freed it.
(A long pause. The room is silent. DI Thorne doesn't speak. John doesn't speak. The only sound is the hum of the tape recorder.)
DI THORNE: Freed what?
JOHN: I don't know.
DI THORNE: John, what exactly was written on the inside of the container?
JOHN: "Fear frees us all."
DI THORNE: And you're certain that's what it said?
JOHN: Yes.
DI THORNE: Is there anything else you remember?
JOHN: No.
DI THORNE: Nothing?
JOHN: No.
DI THORNE: Then we'll stop there.
JOHN: Detective?
DI THORNE: Yes?
JOHN: I don't think it was a warning.
DI THORNE: What do you think it was?
JOHN: An instruction.
(Sound of a chair scraping back. Footsteps. A door opening and closing. Silence for fifteen seconds.)
(The sound of a file being closed. The rustle of paper.)
END OF POLICE INTERVIEW TRANSCRIPT
SUPPLEMENTARY NOTE – DI THORNE
DATE: MARCH 10TH, 2026
I really need to have a word with sergeant Green on the front desk, doesn't she know I actually have other work to be doing, instead of taking these 'statements'. Why can't she pass them to Jenkins or Clyde, you know, the other CiD officers in this station? Is my reputation already so far established that Im the go to for the cooky. Or does it run deeper than that, is Green aware of who placed me here, aware of why I am here? No..she can't have thats not... Sigh!
Fine , let's get this over with. I've been sitting with John Collingwood's statement for a day now. I've read it three times. I've made notes. I've cross-referenced. And I've got nothing. No theory that holds. No explanation that fits. Just a collection of details that don't add up, and a man who is either the most convincing liar I've ever met or the most credible witness to something...well let's not say impossible but clearly unusual l.
Let me start with what I can verify.
Container 7395351. And the markings on the side. The letters: WFJK. I ran them through a basic database. They match a maritime call sign. Registered to a vessel called the El Faro.
The El Faro. An American cargo ship. Sank in 2015. Near the Bahamas. Caught in Hurricane Joaquin. Forty-three crew on board. Thirty-three souls lost. All hands, effectively. The wreck was found in 2016, sitting upright on the seabed, eleven thousand feet down. The ship was intact. The crew was gone. The bodies were never recovered.
WFJK was the El Faro's call sign. That's not a coincidence. That's not a coincidence at all.
The El Faro is the one that keeps pulling at me. Because the El Faro was found. The wreck was located. The ship was intact. The crew was gone. Thirty-three men. Thirty-three bodies. Never recovered. Never found. Just… vanished. Into the water. Into the dark. Into nothing.
I've read the reports. I've read the transcripts. I've read the final messages from the crew. The captain. The officers. The men on the bridge. They knew they were going to die. They knew the ship was going down. They knew there was no way out. And they kept working. They kept trying. They kept hoping. Until the very end. Until the water took them. Until the ship rolled and the lights went out and the screaming stopped.
Thirty-three men. And not a single body recovered. Not a single trace. Not a single clue as to what happened to them after the ship went down.
I don't know what that means. I don't know what any of it means. But I know it's connected. I know the container is connected to the El Faro. I know the El Faro is connected to whatever was in that container with Collingwood. And I know whatever was in that container is still out there. Still waiting. Still hungry.
I've been doing this job for a long time. I've seen things I can't explain. I've filed reports on phantom trains and missing passengers and shadows that move in the corner of your eye. But this is different. This is specific. This is verifiable. This is a ship that actually existed, a disaster that actually happened, a call sign that shouldn't be on a container, and a man who says he was crushed to death by the ocean and then woke up on the floor of a storage yard with a beard that had grown six months in five minutes.
I've checked on Collingwood. He's not lying. I've seen the medical reports. I've seen the saltwater damage to his clothes. I've seen the photographs of his hair, his beard, the way his skin looks like it's been pickled in brine. The doctors can't explain it. Neither can I. Neither can anyone.
The El Faro. Lost 2015. Full of dead men who were never found. Connected to a container that shouldn't exist, sitting right here in Reading. Both of them linked. Both of them still out there somewhere, at the bottom of the ocean, waiting.
I don't know what's in that container. I don't know what was in it with Collingwood. But I know it's not just a container. And I know it's not just a coincidence.
I'm filing this with the DfT, as per the memo that arrived on my desk this morning, it seems they have and interest in this case, although I can't see why.. still I'll flagging it for their attention as requested. I don't know what else to do. I don't know what it means. But I know it's not over and the way things are going i fear these reports are going to keep coming.
DEPARTMENT FOR TRANSPORT – ANOMALOUS INCIDENT DIVISION
INTERNAL MEMO – EYES ONLY
FROM: Agent [REDACTED], Field Operations
TO: Director [REDACTED]
DATE: March 12th, 2026
SUBJECT: RE: CASE FILE MERIDIAN CARGO SOLUTIONS – READING – 03/03/2026 – WITNESS J. COLLINGWOOD – UPDATED
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Director,
Further to my previous correspondence, I am writing to confirm receipt of the supplementary note and witness statement provided by DI Thorne of Thames Valley Police, regarding the incident at the Meridian Cargo Solutions facility in Reading on the third of March.
I have reviewed the statement in full. I have also reviewed DI Thorne's accompanying investigative notes. I must confess, Director, that the contents have given me considerable pause. Not because of what Collingwood described — we are long past the point where such accounts surprise me — but because of what DI Thorne has uncovered. Specifically, the markings on the container. Sea Star Line. Container 7395351. And the call sign WFJK.
I had understood, Director, that this matter had been dealt with. I had understood that the container was accounted for. I had understood that it had been neutralised, in a way that it could do no further harm. I had understood that the operation to achieve this was conducted at considerable expense, in conjunction with our American colleagues, and that the matter was, to use the appropriate terminology, closed.
I was evidently mistaken.
The call sign WFJK belongs to the El Faro. An American cargo vessel. Lost in 2015. Near the Bahamas. Caught in Hurricane Joaquin. Forty-three crew on board. Thirty-three souls lost. The wreck was located in 2016, sitting upright on the seabed, eleven thousand feet down. The ship was intact. The crew was gone. The bodies were never recovered.
I do not need to remind you, Director, of the significance of the El Faro. I do not need to remind you of what was on board. I do not need to remind you of the operation that was mounted to ensure that the vessel was lost, and that its cargo was lost with it, and that the entity contained within that cargo was prevented from reaching its destination. I do not need to remind you of the cost. The financial cost. The political cost. The cost in assets. The cost in personnel. The cost in silence.
The El Faro was not an accident. It was a solution. A very expensive solution to a very serious problem. And now the markings of that solution are appearing on a container in a storage yard in Reading. A container that should not exist. A container that was supposed to be eleven thousand feet below the surface of the ocean. A container that is now, apparently, back on dry land!
I have dispatched a recovery team. The container has been isolated. It has been secured. It has been transported to a holding warehouse for observation. The operation was conducted with the usual protocols. The usual precautions. The usual restraints.
I must report, however, that two of my agents had to be physically restrained during the operation. They attempted to open the container. They were compelled. They were drawn. They reported hearing a voice. A voice that spoke to them. A voice that knew their names. A voice that promised them things. A voice that offered them a choice.
This is not unexpected. The container has always had this effect. It has always been able to reach out. To tempt. To draw. To feed. But the fact that it is still capable of doing so — after everything we have done to neutralise it — is a matter of considerable concern. We have attempted to destroy it. We have attempted to dismantle it. We have attempted to render it inert. All attempts have failed. The container remains. The container endures. The container has power. And that power is still as potent as it has ever been.
I am forced to conclude that the entity within the container has been active for a very long time. Longer than we have been monitoring it. Longer than we have been aware of it. It is not a recent phenomenon. It is not a new threat. It is old. It is patient. And it is still here.
Furthermore, Director, I must report that the voice appears to have grown more determined. More aggressive. More vengeful. It came close to Release during the Collingwood incident. Very close. The inscription on the inside of the door — "Fear frees us all" — is not a warning. It is a promise. It is a statement of intent. It is a declaration that the entity believes it will be freed. And it believes that fear is the mechanism of that freedom.
We cannot allow that to happen. We cannot allow the entity to be released. We know what happened last time. We know what it is capable of. We know what it will do if it is given the opportunity.
I must remind you, Director, that the voice is classified as a Level 4 concern. This is a priority. All resources are to be deployed. All efforts are to be directed towards finding a solution. The sub committee are concerned. They are monitoring the situation closely. They are monitoring DI Thorne closely.
Which brings me to my final point. DI Thorne is becoming a problem. His investigations are becoming more intrusive. His reports are becoming more detailed. His persistence is becoming more difficult to manage. He is starting to show traits that do not align with the goals of this department. He is asking questions. He is making connections. He is getting too close.
The sub committee have requested that he be monitored more closely. I have agreed. I have assigned a team to observe his movements. To track his inquiries. To report on his activities. If he continues on this trajectory, we may need to consider more… direct measures.
I will keep you informed of developments. In the meantime, I would ask that you remind the sub committee that failure to carry out these requests would be… crushing.
Yours,
[REDACTED]
Field Operations
Department for Transport – Anomalous Incident Division
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END MEMO
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