On Monday evening, October 27, 2025, the quiet suburban community of Zebulon, North Carolina, was rocked by a tragedy so severe that even seasoned law enforcement officers were left reeling. Wellington Delano Dickens III, a 38-year-old resident of a recently built subdivision on the outskirts of town, called 911 and calmly confessed to killing four of his children. What followed was a grim sequence of discoveries and a flurry of questions that have since gripped the state and much of the nation.
According to the Johnston County Sheriff’s Office, deputies responded to Dickens’ call at his home, located about 25 miles east of Raleigh. Upon arrival, they found Dickens’ 3-year-old son alive and unharmed inside the house. But the true horror lay in the garage, where, as Dickens had described, deputies found the remains of four children in the trunk of a car. The bodies, authorities said, had been there "for a long period of time," and the state medical examiner was still working to confirm their identities as of October 28, 2025 (WBTV/Gray News).
The victims are believed to be Dickens’ three biological children, ages 6, 9, and 10, and his 18-year-old stepchild. The arrest warrants state that authorities believe the killings occurred on May 1, 2025. As the Associated Press reported, Dickens was initially charged with one count of murder on Tuesday, with three additional counts added later in the day. He appeared before a judge that afternoon and was denied bond, remaining in the Johnston County Jail while awaiting the appointment of a public defender.
Neighbors and local residents, stunned by the news, struggled to reconcile the image of the family they barely knew with the brutality of the crime. “I’ve noticed the kids haven’t been out playing for quite some time, but hadn’t put two and two together. And I woke up to this this morning. It’s pretty awful,” said neighbor Terry Fuller, who had occasionally mowed the family’s lawn when the grass grew high (AP). Another neighbor, Miranda Dorta, recalled only seeing the children as they walked to and from the school bus. Many in the tight-knit neighborhood said they would have helped if Dickens had reached out, but after the death of his wife, the family seemed to withdraw from the community.
Tragedy, it seems, had been shadowing the Dickens family for some time. Court records from his late wife’s estate reveal that five children lived in the Zebulon home. Stephanie Dickens, Wellington’s wife, died in April 2024, just over a year after Dickens’ father was killed in a car accident in Lee County, North Carolina. The compounded losses may have contributed to the family’s increasing isolation in the months leading up to the murders.
Adding another layer to the story, Dickens’ great uncle, Charles Moore, told WRAL-TV that Dickens was an Iraq War veteran. Moore said he hadn’t seen his nephew in about a year but thought he “seemed like he was doing fine.” Such comments underscore the difficulty of truly knowing what goes on behind closed doors, especially in the wake of personal loss and trauma.
The investigation quickly drew in multiple agencies. The North Carolina State Bureau of Investigation joined the Johnston County Sheriff’s Office as police cruisers blocked the road to Dickens’ home and tents were erected in the driveway for forensic work. The home itself sits in a relatively new subdivision, with most houses only about three years old—a symbol of Zebulon’s transformation from a former tobacco market and railroad town to a burgeoning bedroom community for the Raleigh-Durham area (AP).
Despite the extensive investigation, many questions remain unanswered. The sheriff’s office has not disclosed exactly how long the children’s bodies were in the trunk, nor whether they had been reported missing prior to the 911 call. The medical examiner’s ongoing work to confirm the identities of the remains speaks to the length of time the bodies may have been undiscovered.
As the facts continue to emerge, the case has prompted discussions about mental health, the challenges faced by veterans returning from war, and the often hidden struggles of families dealing with repeated loss. While authorities have not released any information regarding Dickens’ mental state or any possible motive, the sequence of personal tragedies—his father’s fatal car crash, his wife’s death, and now the loss of four children—paints a picture of a family beset by hardship.
On the legal front, Dickens faces four counts of murder, and the court has yet to appoint an attorney to represent him. The process is expected to be lengthy, as investigators sift through evidence and await final confirmation from the medical examiner. In the meantime, Dickens remains held without bond, and the community waits anxiously for answers that may never fully explain what happened inside that house.
The story has also highlighted the role of community vigilance—or the lack thereof—in preventing such tragedies. Neighbors expressed regret that they hadn’t noticed the warning signs or checked in on the family sooner, especially after noticing the children’s absence from play and school bus routines. “Although the subdivision’s oldest houses are only about 3 years old, it’s also a tight-knit neighborhood and many people could have helped if Dickens reached out,” Fuller told the Associated Press.
As news of the case spread, many in Zebulon and beyond have been left grappling with feelings of shock, sorrow, and helplessness. The deaths of four young people—each with their own stories, dreams, and futures—have left a void that cannot be filled. The survival of the 3-year-old son, found alive amid the tragedy, adds a glimmer of hope, but also raises questions about his future and the support he will need moving forward.
For now, the investigation continues, with law enforcement officials determined to piece together the full story. The hope is that, through their efforts, the community may eventually find some measure of closure, even as it mourns the loss of four young lives.
In the end, Zebulon’s tragedy serves as a stark reminder of the unseen struggles that can play out behind closed doors—and the importance of community, compassion, and vigilance in the face of hardship.
