A warning to our viewers. What you’re about to watch is a true story. The following program contains content that some viewers may find disturbing. Viewer discretion is strongly advised. And then I went and killed Benny. I hit her in with like a candlestick or something and that woke her up and then I killed her. I stabbed her.
Did she say anything to you? Uh, yes. She asked me why the little girl Wendy had woke up. She’d seen what was going on. So I I I grabbed her and tied her up. Get in the bathroom. Don’t make a sound. These were the words 9-year-old Wendy heard as a blood soaked Edward James forced her into the bathroom, tying her hands behind her back.
Moments earlier, she had awakened to her grandmother’s desperate screams, only to witness a scene of unspeakable violence. Her 8-year-old sister was nowhere to be found. The walls of her grandmother’s bedroom were splattered with blood. September 20, 1993, Castlebury, Florida. While most families slept peacefully in their beds, a nightmare was unfolding inside Betty Dick’s suburban home.
In a drugfueled rage, the man who had lived under her roof for months had just strangled and sexually assaulted her 8-year-old granddaughter Tony, leaving her to die. Then he turned his attention to 58-year-old Betty, stabbing her 23 times with two different knives. This wasn’t a random home invasion. This was betrayal in its most horrific form.
A trusted family friend who transformed into a monster in the night. For 17 days, Edward James would elude capture as he fled across the country until a television viewer’s tip brought his reign of terror to an end. But for one Florida family, the damage was already done. Two lives snuffed out, innocence shattered, and a 31-year wait for justice that would end, not with the whale of his victim’s families, but with the silent flow of chemicals into the veins of a monster who had walked among us undetected for decades. Welcome to
the Shadow Files crime series. Tonight’s case will shake you to your core. Take a moment to hit subscribe, drop a like, and please let us know where you’re watching from. And now we begin. Castleberry, Florida, 1993. Just 10 miles north of Orlando, this quiet suburban community of around 15,000 residents embodied the American dream with its modest homes, well-kept lawns, and familyfriendly atmosphere.
Prime rates were low. Neighbors knew each other by name. Children rode bicycles until street lights came on, signaling time to head home. This was America before cell phones ruled our lives. Before social media connected and divided us, before parents tracked their children’s every move through GPS, the early 90s represented the twilight of an age where community trust still flourished, where families left doors unlocked and children played unsupervised.
1993 was a year of transition. The country was emerging from recession under a new president. Whitney Houston’s I Will Always Love You dominated radio airwaves. Jurassic Park roared through theaters and each Friday night, millions of Americans gathered around their television sets to watch America’s Most Wanted with John Walsh, a show that gave ordinary citizens the power to help catch dangerous fugitives.
Little did anyone know how crucial that show would become in bringing justice to one Florida family. On Tree Lane in Castlebury stood the home of 58-year-old Elizabeth Betty Dick. A devoted grandmother, Betty had created a sanctuary for her family. Her son Tim described her as the rock that held everyone together.
When any of her grandchildren needed shelter or stability, Betty’s doors were always open. This was particularly true for her four grandchildren, who often stayed overnight. 9-year-old Wendy, 8-year-old Tony, and their two younger brothers. In Betty’s home, they found the security and love that every child deserves.
In the summer of 1993, Betty made a fateful decision that would ultimately destroy this sanctuary. Her son Tim had befriended a man named Edward James, a 32-year-old with a troubled past, but seemingly good intentions. When James needed a place to stay, Betty did what came naturally to her. She opened her home. For six months, James lived under Betty’s roof, becoming almost like family.
He played with her grandchildren. He shared meals at her table. He was trusted. No one saw the darkness that lurked beneath his surface, the history of violence, the drug abuse, the rage that simmerred just below his friendly facade. Betty Dick had unwittingly invited a predator into her home. To understand the monster Edward James would become, we must first understand the boy he once was.
August 4, 1961, Bristol, Pennsylvania. A small boy enters the world as Edward Thomas James, though for the first decade of his life, he would know himself by a different name, Eddie Matlac. His early childhood, by all accounts, was unremarkable in this bluecollar town nestled along the Delaware River.
But at age 10, Eddie’s world imploded with a single revelation. The man he believed was his father wasn’t his father at all. The Matlac name he had carried his entire young life was built on a lie. This traumatic discovery ripped away his sense of identity and security in one cruel moment. A year later, at just 11 years old, Eddie met his biological father for the first time.
A man who should have been a positive influence given his profession as a drug counselor. Instead, in a bitter twist of irony, this reunion marked the beginning of Eddie’s descent into substance abuse. His own father introduced him to drugs, setting him on a path of addiction that would ultimately fuel his most violent impulses.
The teenage years that followed were marked by escalating trouble. After moving to Castleberry, Florida with his mother, young Edward’s life began to revolve around two things: fighting and drugs. Violent outbursts became more frequent. Blackouts left gaps in his memory, periods where he couldn’t account for his actions or behavior.
His concerned mother sought help from mental health professionals as she watched her son transform into someone she barely recognized. His anger and aggression had become uncontrollable, frightening. The professionals provided diagnosis and treatment plans, but nothing seemed to penetrate the darkness that was consuming him.
At 17, perhaps seeking structure or escape, James enlisted in the US Army. The military might have been his salvation, a chance to channel his aggression, to find discipline and purpose. He was stationed in Germany, thousands of miles from the influences that had shaped his troubled youth. But even the rigid structure of military life, couldn’t contain Edward James.
His discharge papers would later cite a damning reason for his separation from service, failure to conform. The army with all its discipline and authority had deemed him unfit to serve. Another rejection, another failure. James slunk back to Castleberry, Florida, carrying with him a growing resentment toward a world that seemed to have no place for him.
It was here that he encountered Tim Dick, a local man who saw something redeemable in the troubled 32-year-old. Tim befriended James, introduced him to his extended family, and offered him the acceptance he craved. For a time, it seemed that Edward James had finally found his place. He was welcomed into the Dick family’s lives with open arms.
He attended their gatherings. He became someone they trusted implicitly. In the summer of 1993, when James needed a place to stay, Betty Dick made what seemed like a simple act of kindness. She rented him a room in her home. After all, he wasn’t a stranger. He was practically family. No one could have imagined that beneath his affable exterior lurked a predator waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
No one could have known that Betty’s compassion would lead to her own violent end as we go into the most chilling details of this documentary. Take a brief moment to like and subscribe to our channel if you haven’t already for more in-depth investigations and analysis of significant cases like this. September 20, 1993 began like any other Monday in Castlebury.
Betty Dick’s four grandchildren, Wendy, 9, Tony, 8, and their two younger brothers, ages 2 and four, were staying overnight at their grandmother’s house. As evening fell, the children settled into sleep in the living room, their grandmother in her bedroom, unaware that this ordinary night would end in unimaginable horror. Edward James wasn’t home.
He had gone out earlier to a party where witnesses would later report he’d been drinking heavily, but alcohol wasn’t his only poison that night. James consumed crack cocaine, and investigators would later suspect he might have also taken LSD. By the time he returned to Betty Dick’s house in the early morning hours of September 20th, his mind was a toxic cocktail of chemicals and dangerous impulses.
The house was quiet and dark when James entered. In the living room, he could make out the sleeping forms of Betty’s four grandchildren. What happened next marked the beginning of a horrific sequence of events that would tear a family apart. James approached 8-year-old Tony Marie Nuner as she slept. In a sudden, violent movement, he grabbed the child by her neck and began strangling her until she lost consciousness.
Believing she was already dead, he carried her limp body to his bedroom. In his druginduced state, James’ depravity reached new depths. He sexually assaulted the unconscious child, inflicting severe internal injuries. After the assault, James callously threw Tony’s body between his bed and the wall, where she would ultimately die from the strangulation and trauma.
But his rampage wasn’t over. According to his later confession, James remembered thinking, “Eddie, this ain’t no fun. I’ll get me a grown woman. He made his way to Betty Dick’s bedroom. His intention, by his own admission, was to sexually assault the 58-year-old grandmother. But when Betty resisted, James’s violence escalated.
He grabbed a nearby candlestick and struck her in the head with crushing force. Betty’s screams pierced the night, cutting through the silence of the sleeping house. The terrified grandmother fought for her life as James grabbed a knife and began stabbing her repeatedly. In the living room, 9-year-old Wendy awakened to the sound of her grandmother’s desperate cries.
Following the sounds to Betty’s bedroom, the child witnessed a scene no one should ever have to see. Her grandmother covered in blood, fighting for her life against a man they had trusted. When James noticed Wendy standing in the doorway, he quickly overpowered the young girl. He tied her hands and locked her in the bathroom, eliminating the only witness who could immediately report his crimes.
James then returned to Betty’s bedroom with a butcher knife from the kitchen and continued his savage attack, stabbing her in the back. In total, Betty Dick would suffer 23 stab wounds from two different knives. With both Tony and Betty now dead or dying, James’ actions took an even more chilling turn. With methodical calmness, he showered to wash away the blood.
He then collected Betty’s jewelry and car keys, seemingly unfazed by the carnage he had just inflicted. James fled the scene in Betty’s car, leaving behind a house of horrors, one child dead, a grandmother brutally murdered, another child bound and traumatized, and two young boys who had somehow slept through the nightmare, but would wake to find their world forever shattered.
Eventually, young Wendy managed to free herself from her restraints. Terrified but determined, she found her younger brother still asleep and unharmed. The full discovery of what had happened that night, finding her sister’s body and her grandmother murdered, would unfold in the coming hours as police arrived at the scene. For the Dick family, September 20, 1993 marked the end of innocence and the beginning of a three decade quest for justice.
As dawn broke over Castleberry on September 20th, a full-scale investigation was already underway. Betty Dick’s stolen car was entered into the national database. Edward James’ photo was distributed to law enforcement agencies nationwide, but the killer had a head start, and every passing hour meant he could be hundreds of miles farther away.
Detectives interviewed neighbors, processed the brutal crime scene, and pieced together James’ movements before the murder. The evidence was overwhelming. This wasn’t a case of who did it, but rather where had he gone. With Betty’s car and the limited cash he’d stolen, investigators knew James wouldn’t get far without being noticed.
But America is vast, and a man determined to disappear has countless places to hide. As days passed, with no confirmed sightings, investigators faced a troubling reality. Traditional police work alone might not be enough to capture this predator. On September 28th, just 8 days after the murders, the case took a crucial turn. America’s Most Wanted, the groundbreaking television show hosted by John Walsh, aired a segment featuring Edward James.
The show watched by millions across the country, displayed his photo, described the heinous crimes, and urged viewers to be on the lookout for Betty Dick’s stolen vehicle. The response was immediate. Hundreds of viewer calls flooded the show’s hotline. Though many leads proved false, a pattern began to emerge from credible tips. James was heading west.
Sightings placed him moving across the southern United States, traveling along highways that would eventually lead to California. This intelligence was invaluable to investigators who now had a search direction rather than an entire country to comb through. On October 5th, exactly one week after the initial broadcast, America’s Most Wanted aired an update on the case.
The show informed viewers that James was believed to be in the Western United States, possibly California, and still considered extremely dangerous. The following day, October 6th, 1993, marked the end of Edward James’ 17 days of freedom. At a California state unemployment office in Bakersfield, an alert citizen recognized the man standing in line from the television show.
The viewer immediately contacted local authorities who responded to the scene. James offered no resistance when confronted by police. The man who had shown such savagery in Betty Dick’s home surrendered without incident, almost as if he’d been waiting for this moment. Within hours of his capture, James provided investigators with two taped confessions, admitting to the murders in chilling detail.
In less than 3 weeks, America’s Most Wanted had accomplished what might have taken law enforcement months or even years to achieve on their own. A viewer’s vigilance had removed a dangerous killer from the streets, giving the Dick family their first glimmer of justice. But the long legal journey was just beginning.
On April 5, 1995, Edward James stood before a seminal county judge. His posture that of a defeated man. Gone was the defiance that had fueled his westward escape. Gone was the drug induced rage that had driven him to murder. In its place was a man who seemed to finally comprehend the magnitude of his actions.
James entered guilty p to two counts of firstdegree murder for the killings of Betty Dick and her 8-year-old granddaughter Tony Nuner. But the list of his crimes didn’t end there. He also pleaded guilty to aggravated child abuse, attempted sexual battery, kidnapping, grand theft, and grand theft auto.
for two additional counts of capital sexual battery charged in separate information. James entered no contest please claiming he could not remember committing these acts a final insult to his victim’s dignity. The evidence against James was overwhelming. His own taped confessions, physical evidence collected at the crime scene, the traumatized testimony of 9-year-old Wendy, who had witnessed parts of that night’s horror.
There was never any question of his guilt, only of his punishment. During the penalty phase of the trial, jurors heard devastating testimony about the impact of James’ crimes on the Dick family. Prosecutor Tom Hastings didn’t mince words when addressing the jury. This defendant deserves no more mercy than that he showed his two victims.
On August 18, 1995, the verdict came down for the murders of Betty Dick and Tony Nuner, Edward James was sentenced to death. The judge also imposed additional sentences, ranging from 15 years to life imprisonment for his other crimes. The jury’s recommendation for the death penalty had not been unanimous. However, one juror out of 12 had voted against capital punishment, a fact that would later feature prominently in James’ appeals.
Perhaps most telling were James’s own words in court. Unlike many condemned men who maintain their innocence until the end, James acknowledged his guilt and accepted his sentence. In a 2003 court appearance, he stated, “I don’t want to die, but I do believe it’s the proper penalty for what I committed. From now until the time they execute me, I’m just going to exist.
Come as close to peace with what I did. I feel in my heart that I’m doing the right thing. With those words, Edward James began what would become a nearly three decade wait on Florida’s death row. A period far longer than either of his victims had lived after encountering him. March 20, 2025. Florida State Prison in Rafford stood as a fortress of concrete and steel under the early spring sky.
Inside its walls, a precise, methodical ritual was underway, one that the state of Florida had performed dozens of times before. At 7:00 a.m., Edward James awoke for the last time. Now 63 years old, his appearance had changed dramatically from the younger man who had fled California years ago.
The decades on death row had etched deep lines in his face and turned his hair gray. Time had diminished him physically, but it hadn’t erased what he had done. James was offered his final meal, a choice that death row inmates are traditionally granted. He selected fried catfish, potato salad, hush puppies, cookies, and washed it down with soda and coffee.
It was an unremarkable last request from a man who had committed unspeakable acts. Unlike many condemned prisoners who spend their final hours with family, clergy, or friends, James received no visitors. Florida Department of Correction spokesman Paul Walker confirmed that James chose to spend his last hours alone.
Perhaps there was no one left who wished to say goodbye. Or perhaps James himself preferred solitude as he faced his end. As the scheduled execution time of 6 p.m. approached, witnesses arrived and were seated in the viewing room, separated from the execution chamber by a large window. Among them were family members of Betty Dick and Tony Nuner, who had waited more than three decades for this moment.
There was an unexpected 2-hour delay, not uncommon in executions, though Florida officials provided no explanation for the wait. Finally, at approximately 8:00 p.m., the curtain to the execution chamber was drawn back. James lay strapped to a gurnie, intravenous lines already inserted into his arms.
When a Florida Department of Corrections official asked if he had any last statement, James’s response was brief and final. No, I don’t. Moments before the lethal chemicals began flowing, James briefly raised his head and appeared to look toward the window where witnesses sat, observing the procedure. The execution itself took approximately 15 minutes.
Witnesses reported seeing James’s chest trembling about 2 minutes into the process, a phenomenon that had been observed in previous lethal injections and considered part of the body’s response to the chemicals. At 8:15 p.m., a physician entered the chamber, checked for vital signs, and made the official pronouncement. Edward James was dead.
The man who had stolen the lives of Betty Dick and 8-year-old Tony Nuner had finally answered for his crimes more than 11,500 days after committing them. After the execution, Betty Dick’s family emerged from the prison to face a crowd of waiting reporters. Their faces showed not triumph but the deep weariness that comes from carrying grief for over three decades. Brenda teed.
Betty’s daughter spoke first, her voice steady despite the emotion behind her words. We have been dealing with this for over 31 years. It has hit us in places you can’t imagine. The simple statement carried the weight of countless birthdays, holidays, and family gatherings overshadowed by absence. Jerry Pearson Jr.
Tony Niner’s uncle struggled to contain his anger as he remembered the niece who never had a chance to grow up. Tony never had a chance at life. What he put her through that night was horrific. His words hung in the night air, a stark reminder that justice, however long awaited, cannot restore what was taken. The family had long described Betty as their rock, the stabilizing force that held generations together.
“We lost generations because of James actions,” Pearson added, referencing not just the immediate victims, but the ripple effects through time, the children Betty would never see grow up, the guidance she would never provide, the family traditions that died with her. Perhaps most profoundly affected was Wendy, who at 9 years old had witnessed parts of that terrible night and spent the rest of her childhood and adult life processing the trauma.
Now in her early 40s, she had lived longer with the memories of that night than without them. Court records revealed she had struggled with intense anger and survivors guilt, wondering if she could have somehow saved her sister or grandmother if she had awakened sooner. The community of Castlebury was never the same after September 20, 1993.
Neighbors who once left doors unlocked began installing security systems. Parents who once allowed children to play freely became vigilant about supervision. The murders shattered an innocence that could never be fully restored, a reminder that danger can lurk in the most trusted places. As the media coverage of James’s execution fades and his name recedes from public memory, what remains are the echoes of two lives cut short.
Betty Dick, mother, grandmother, caregiver. Tony Nuner, a child with dreams, laughter, and potential that will forever remain unfulfilled. Justice in its imperfect way has finally been served. But as we close this chapter of a decadesl long tragedy, we would do well to remember that true justice would have been Betty and Tony living out their natural lives surrounded by those who loved them.
In the end, that’s who deserves to be remembered. Not the man who took their lives, but the lives he took. Betty Dick, Tony Nuner. May they rest in peace. If you enjoyed this content, join our community by subscribing and turning on notifications. Every subscriber makes it possible for us to keep creating content we’re passionate about sharing with
