Based on ground-breaking work on the unconscious mind’s ability to observe and communicate forensic psychiatrist Dr. Andrew G. Hodges has developed a method of profiling and examining forensic documents and oral communications. This method is known as thoughtprint decoding. This discovery reveals that the unconscious mind possesses a brilliant deeper intelligence vastly superior to our conscious mind’s ability to observe and communicate.
As the timeline (see timeline article) (in Deepak’s June 4 email to Betty) demonstrates, Natalee died almost precisely at 2 a.m. on May 30, 2005 during a sexual assault by all three suspects. Immediately Deepak and the other two suspects were busy establishing alibis by utilizing internet communications, cell phones, and cell-phone text messages. The three young men attempted to establish “hard evidence” that seemed to show Deepak on his computer around 2:3o a.m., some thirty minutes after the time of Natalee’s death according to Deepak’s June 4 (2005) email to Betty.
Using their techno-toys, the three guys quickly concocted the “beach story” in which Joran went to the beach alone with Natalee—a “one-on-one” version—and left her there unharmed about 3 a.m.
However, by the time the Twittys showed up twenty-four hours later, strangely enough, the boys had adopted the far weaker “hotel story,” which portrayed a three-on-one situation in which they dropped Natalee off at the Holiday Inn at 2 a.m. Deepak attempted to manufacture a false eyewitness (his friend, Steve Croes), but when surveillance cameras proved no drop-off had ever occurred.
The hotel story quickly collapsed. Then they quickly resorted to the “beach story” which on the surface had stronger support.
What has been largely overlooked is that the three suspects clearly had the “beach story” in place before resorting to the “hotel story.” The crucial question: Why would they go with a weaker “hotel drop- off” story after first establishing a stronger “beach” story? There is one reason alone: the compulsion to confess. In actuality, the three-on-one hotel story revealed the real truth—a three-way sexual assault upon Natalee that resulted in her death. Natalee’s final moment involved “a three on one” story and not a “one on one” story.
Additionally the false hotel story showed three things: (1) the boys were liars; (2) they all were likely sexually involved with Natalee; and (3) they would readily resort to staging or establishing false alibis.
Tellingly, no witness ever emerged who saw any of the three suspects, or Natalee, anywhere near the beach on the night she disappeared, because it was a total fiction. Yet the beach story had significant advantages: (1) it took the focus off a three-on-one situation, moving it to a one-on-one; (2) it enabled the suspects—at least potentially—to blame one another. Deepak could claim Joran harmed Natalee, and vice versa. Indeed, some ten days after the fact the suspects’ hotel story had fallen apart, and the beach story now emerged even as both Joran and Deepak blamed the other for Natalee’s death, depicting a sexual assault gone bad.
Unfortunately, for the most part the media and the police have embraced the beach story, mainly because they don’t know how to read between the lines of Deepak’s June 4 email to his friend Betty, which tells the entire story of the crime scene-by-scene.
In addition, Deepak’s “hard computer evidence” establishing a secure timeline raises specific questions. Having thoroughly reviewed all relevant computer and cell phone records, police have thrown up their hands and admitted that the truth remains elusive. As Gerald Dompig put it in his Vanity Fair interview (published in January 2006), “Nobody knows what time he (Joran) got home. Nor is it clear how he got there.”
Other factors undermine the beach story cover-up. There’s no logical reason to believe that Natalee would resist returning to her hotel room after Joran left, and would instead choose to remain on the beach alone. Late at night, on a foreign island, away from all her friends, a girl who was always with somebody—it doesn’t fit at all.