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, or 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, rims, mirrors and a vented 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.

I did look around the shop for a while, expecting the car to be owned by a real-estate agent or businessman of some kind; probably chasing up lost money. Eventually, I gave up the search and went to investigate the car again – it was in the drop-off station.

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; sticker or stamp, no papers anywhere to be seen, and 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 for once I didn’t have to go home early! But, it's just – something a little strange happened with the new car.

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.

'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. You stand to lose much more than the money if you don’t keep this a secret.'

‘In the box is $2,500… There is plenty more to come, provided you heed my wish.’

Yeah, that’s just a bit fucked up. A 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 cheap, shitty budget meals of pasta or rice, which we have all 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. Upon inspection of the car, there was another note, and no cash.

'You don't trust me Keith? If I had feelings, they’d be hurt right now. Don’t make me have to have to hurt you.’

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. It was an old emergency news report.

"This just in… police in search … sports car … perhaps a Rolls … or a Bentley … car has been seen escaping … a hit and run in south Melbourne…”

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 won't let me keep the cash. They’ll probably want some reimbursement for what I’ve already taken, and I just don’t have the money! 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 – not to mention I’m being threatened by my own car. People will just think I’m mad.

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. I’m a superstitious guy, and ever since I upset the car I’ve had no business in my workshop. I feel mad even writing this; but maybe the 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 repayment of your loan on your house, but it is also more than enough to cover the costs of your next task.’

'This car will need a service. It needs an oil change, a new paint job, and the tyres are bald. After that, you will receive a final payment, and then you will have to deliver me to another place of business.'

'Do what you do best Keith. All will be well soon.’

So, that's what the car said to me this morning.

Give the car back? That’s a fucking stitch up! I’m going through all this trouble just to give the car a fucking service and a paint job? If the dickhead wanted me to do that he could’ve just asked.

Either way, I’m going to do what I’ve been asked. I might even keep the car after I’ve been given the final payment. It was listed as stolen the other day on the radio, what’s the owner going to do? Report it missing?

Anyway, I just had to vent during my lunch break, I’m going to work on the car soon, and I’ll make my mind up about what to do after it’s all done up.

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?

I then tried to change the coolant, desperate to finish the job and get more money. I pulled the drain cock out of the radiator to drain it, and a thick brown substance followed after it.

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 filled three of my five-litre buckets. My workshop still smells like shit.

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.

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 went to a payphone on the other side of town and called Crimestoppers anonymously, making an inquiry about the missing Bentley on the radio. I was just too curious about the mysterious origins of the car. To my surprise, they told me they had no reports of missing Bentley’s escaping any crimes in this area.

I decided to go to the workshop and see what money had been left behind in the car; but I found nothing. The box was empty, except for a single dollar coin which had been dipped in tar.

I've organised a dealer from Allen's Auto’s to come and pick it up tomorrow morning. He'll be able to move it out of state and sell it pretty easily. He’s dealt with stolen vehicles before, and I just can’t afford to let a car as nice as this be given back.

Anyway, it's my twin boys football grand final today. It'll be an awesome day; win or lose. I might even take the family on a cruise next week with the money I make from the Bentley. Life will be much better once I get this mysterious car out of my workshop.

Wednesday : 2-09-15

This entry is not for myself; it is for anybody who finds this journal.

The police, the news, my family – everyone keeps asking me questions and I just can’t deal with it anymore. The guilt is consuming me. All this was my fault, a result of my greed. So this is probably the last time anybody will hear from me. 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 29-08-15.

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, trying to dismiss the car as maybe one of the other parents saying hello, 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 confront the driver. He had it coming, for all the weird shit he put me through, I at least deserved some answers. 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 drivers seat sat the copper box. It was the only thing in the car. I reached in and opened the box, I somehow knew this time I wouldn’t be receiving money…

The note was simple this time, not cryptic, not mysterious. It read:

‘I’ll 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 of catching up to it.

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. I thought at the time she had died, and sometimes I wish she had. It would have been kinder than having her hooked up to a machine, making her loved ones choose her fate.

My sons hadn't rolled over the hood like my wife. The Bentley instead plowed right over them, crushing them under the weight of the car, dismantling their frail bodies with 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...

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, trying to kill it, trying to kill myself.

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, waiting to lose consciousness and bleed out.

My radio screeched and fuzzed out, but I could just make out the local emergency news channel.

"This just in… police in search … sports car … perhaps a Rolls … or a Bentley … car has been seen escaping … a hit and run in south Melbourne…"

Then, in an instant, a loud screech came from the other wreck. Like the sound of chalk on a chalkboard, but louder. It was deafening. In the space of five seconds, the wreck 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
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