DISGRACELAND - Ariana Grande: Terror on Tour, Tragedy in Manchester, and Learning to Sing Again

Episode Date: July 11, 2023

On May 22, 2017, a terrorist detonated a bomb outside Ariana Grande’s performance at Manchester Arena. The blast killed 22 people. It injured over a thousand more. The attack remains one of the most heartbreaking events in music history. Parents were terrified. Younger fans suddenly feared going to concerts. But Manchester’s story doesn’t end on May 22, or in the days that followed. It ends with one woman organizing the One Love concert, healing a new generation of young pop devotees. This is the story of hope in the face of terror.This episode contains themes that may be disturbing to some listeners, including graphic depictions of violence.For the full list of contributors, visit disgracelandpod.com To learn more about listener data and our privacy practices visit: https://www.audacyinc.com/privacy-policy Learn more about your ad choices. Visit https://podcastchoices.com/adchoicesSee omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

This is exactly right. Double Elvis. When a group of women discover they've all dated the same prolific con artist, they take matters into their own hands. I vowed, I will be his last target. He is not going to get away with this. He's going to get what he deserves. We always say that trust your girlfriends. Listen to the girlfriends.

Trust me, babe. On the Iheart radio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts. This season on Dear Chelsea with me, Chelsea Handler, we have some fantastic guests like Amelia Clark. When like young people come up to me and they want to be an actor or whatever. My first thing is always, can you think of anything else that you can do? Rather be disappointed in. Do that.

David O'Yellowo. I love this podcast, whether it's therapy or relationships or religion or sex or addiction or you just go straight for the guts. Dennis Leary, Gaten Matarazzo from Stranger Things, Tana Monsu, Camilla Morone, Carrie Kenny Silver, and more. Listen to these episodes of Dear Chelsea on the IHeart Radio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts. Your husband is not who you think he is. Your body is not what you thought it was.

Your identity is formed by a secret history. I'm Danny Shapiro, and these are just a few of the stunning stories I'll be exploring on the fourth. 14th season of Family Secrets. He kind of shoved me out of the way and said, move. And he went out the front door and he jumped in a car and drove off. And that was the last time I saw him. Listen to Season 14 of Family Secrets, starting May 7th on the IHeart Radio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts.

This episode contains content that may be disturbing to some listeners. Please check the show notes for more information. Disgrace Land is a production of Double Elvis. The story about Ariana Grande. is insane. A terrorist detonated a bomb outside her performance at Manchester Arena. The blast killed 22 people. It injured over a thousand more. The event remains one of the deadliest attacks in England's history. It terrified parents, made young fans scared to enjoy live music. So Ariana brought them together again, showed them there was nothing to fear.

She gathered 55,000 people and raised over $23 million for victims of the attack in their families. She raised that money with the power of great music. Unlike that clip I played for you at the top of the show, that wasn't great music. That was a preset loop from my Melotron called St. Vitus Dance Joyride, MK2. I played you that loop because I can't afford the rights to I'm the One by DJ Khalid, featuring Justin Bieber, Cuavo, Loane, and Chants the Rapper. And why would I play you that specific slice of self-congratulatory we the best cheese could I afford it?

Because that was the number one song in America on May 22, 2017. And that was the day that Ariana Grande's Dangerous Woman Tour became lethal. On this episode, Terror on Tour, Tragedy in Manchester, the tenacity of one city in Ariana Grande. I'm Jake Brennan, and this is Disgraceland. In the beginning, there was only music, a kick drum pounding to the rhythm of heartbeat, voices in the crowd shouting along with the band,

guitar riffs ricocheting off the walls of the club, total harmony. But then some new sounds entered the concert, loud, rapid ones. They ricocheted off the walls just the same. And then they pierced through flesh, not music. Terrorists tore through the Bataclan Theater in Paris without a second thought. Three gunmen, three reloads each, maybe four.

Three minutes of a police assault. Ten hours of sorting through dead bodies. And in the end, there was no music, just silence. The Eagles of Death Metal concert ended too early on November 13, 2015. An attack during the show claimed the lives of 90. fans. Paris burned with fear, grief, exasperation. Concerts were supposed to be safe, sacred, a place to leave all that other shit at the door. Everyone followed a set of unspoken rules, dance your heart out, mosh even, but don't put anyone in danger. Support each other's backs as

they crowd surfed over your head. Watch your friends drinks whenever possible. Bottom line, protect your fellow fans. People followed those rules most of the time, but every once in a while, someone shattered that sense of safety for everyone. The damage went beyond egos of death metal fans and beyond Paris. Suddenly, concerts didn't feel the same anywhere. Ticket holders were weary and parents were petrified to send their kids out to the show alone. There was a big bad world out there, and there was no telling if or when tragedy would strike again.

She wanted to look bad, like the good kind of bad, the sexy kind of dangerous, just like Ariana Grande and latex on the cover of her new album, Dangerous Woman. She looked at the clothes heaped on her pink bedspread. Cat ears, check. Black miniskirt, check. Thigh high boots, check. But she'd have to be sneaky about wearing them if she didn't want her parents to confiscate them again. Maybe she could cram them into her purse and chained shoes at the show.

Yeah, that would work. She couldn't risk getting busted. She needed those boots to complete the outfit, and she didn't have much time left to prepare. It was only five hours until tomorrow, 20 hours until school let out, 24 hours until she stepped into the Manchester Arena on her own, 24 hours until she saw Ariana Grande in the flesh. The mere thought made her knees weak. Everyone at school had their pop star,

the singer who dictated what they wore and how they spoke and how they looked at life. Some of the girls liked Katie Perry and Taylor Swift, the rebellious ones opted for Lady Gaga and Miley Suss. Cyrus, but Ariana Grande was her girl. She could rattle off any and every fact about Ariana without a moment's thought, like she was reciting stats from a baseball card or paragraphs from a Wikipedia entry. Ariana Grande was born in 1993 in Boca Raton, broken to Broadway at just 15 years old, secured her spot as a Nickelodeon star at 16, signed with Republic Records at 17,

and dropped the debut album before she turned 21. Ariana had eight Billboard top ten singles, three albums and a shelf full of IHeart Radio and American Music Awards. The girl read every interview Ariana gave, watched every music video dozens of times to spike those YouTube viewership numbers. She was in it for the long haul, ever since the day she saw Ariana on the Nickelodeon show, Victorious. In the early 2010s, Ariana Grande played a character on TV named Cat Valentine, hapless sidekick to lead actress Victoria Justice. Cat was cute, dumb, simple. She was a redhead, which meant Ariana damaged her brown hair with dye and bleach. Once victorious folded, Nickelodeon kept Cat alive for a new show called Sam and Cat.

They buried Ariana behind more dumb moments and then tossed the show, and Ariana aside after one season. They saw her as a secondary character and nothing more. Big mistake. Ariana knew she had the pipes to shatter the glass ceilings and kept teenagers. girls in dumb demura roles. So she did the 21st century thing. She uploaded covers to YouTube until they caught the attention of Republic Records. Before long, she locked herself into a management contract with Scooter Braun as well. Scooter Braun had the power to make or break any artist.

Case in point, he made Justin Bieber's career, and someday he'd break Taylor Swift's heart and purchase her master's. Scooter was the shrewdest manager in the modern music biz, for better or for worse. He could smell a hitmaker and a moneymaker from a mile away. When he heard Ariana cover Bieber's song, Die in Your Arms on her YouTube channel, he went all in. Republic Records in Scooter Braun saw something in Ariana Grande that other industry executives couldn't. There was a towering four-octave diva crammed inside of that five-foot-three young girl. She just had to break free. Ariana have been trying to break free for years. She told her management she wanted to record a mature R&B album when she was only 14, and they laughed her off.

No one would want that kind of music from a kid who couldn't even drive you. And her management nudged her towards Nickelodeon instead, said it was more age-appropriate. So Ariana waited. Paid her dues on television until Republic and Scooter Bronze snapped her up. She kept it cutesy with her first hit, a collaboration with her boyfriend, Mac Miller, called The Way. She maintained a reputation as squeaky clean as the whistle notes that she hit with her four-octave vocal range. Ariana's innocent persona stuck around for two album cycles.

But when she became known as Ariana the pop star and not Ariana the Nickelodeon star, she slipped into that latex and she never looked back. She had waited long enough for this. Ariana didn't have to act sexy to chart. She can move records dressed like a child star. She started embracing her sex appeal because she wanted to, plain and simple. She pulled bunny ears and a catwoman mask over her. her signature ponytail, started singing less about crushes and more about mixing boys and bad

decisions. Her new album, Dangerous Woman, went places her old material wouldn't dream of. The kind of music you had to whisper about in school, so the teachers couldn't hear you. All the kids thought they knew what her song side to side meant, but no one had the guts to ask. If you admitted you didn't know, the other kids in class branded you a virgin, or a dumbass. It may be both. Better to just act like you understood why Ariana said she could. and walk right after seeing her boyfriend. It was clear that Ariana Grande was all grown up now, and so was her number one fan in Manchester.

Well, the girl pretended to be at least. Sometimes when her parents were asleep, she'd wear those thigh-high boots and take long, sexy steps like she was on a catwalk. Ariana's new music made her feel like she was 10 years older. She didn't really know what it felt like to be a dangerous woman or a woman in general, but Ariana's music gave her an idea.

She would officially learn what it meant tomorrow night at the concert. It was time to step into the next phase of her life. She wasn't just attending a performance by her hero. This was the first time her parents were letting her go to a show without them. She felt so giddy she could squeal. But squealing was for her lame tweens. She was a teenager now, sophisticated enough to go out on her own. All she needed was her mom to drop her off tomorrow night.

Not right in front of the Manchester Arena, no, that'd be too embarrassing. She'd make her grand entrance on her own, and then step into the arena and shell out however many pounds it cost to take home every shirt, hoodie, and accessory at the merch stand that she could afford. Who even knew what would come next? She kept off Twitter these days to avoid spoiling any surprises about Ariana's current tour and set list. But no matter what happened, she knew one thing for sure. She would never be the same. I'm Kate Winkler Dawson, host of the Wicked Words podcast. Each week I sit down with the true crime writers behind some of the most compelling true crime stories

and discuss their years spent investigating and why it still matters. He sees his father coming out of the woods with his hands over his face, and he knows something happened. His father just grabs him and says she's gone. She's gone. These are the cases that leave survivors, families, and the journalists who cover them changed forever. Working in national television, it'll push you to your limits, and you'll end up doing things you never thought you'd do. You know, you look back at it and you're like, I can't believe that really happened.

Join me and step inside the investigation. New episodes drop every Monday on the Exactly Right Network. Listen to Wicked Words on the IHeart Radio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts. Your husband is not who you think he is. Your body is not what you thought it was. Your identity is formed by a secret history. I'm Danny Shapiro, and these are just a few of the stunning stories I'll be exploring

on the 14th season of Family Secrets. And just then, we felt the plain turn in the air, so much so that the bags that were under people's seats just kind of flew into the aisle. Each week, we dive head first into the complex power of secrecy, how it shapes our identities and relationships, and how it ultimately can reveal to us our truest. selves. My daughter, she's pretending she doesn't know, but is trying to cook and feed me and keep me alive because I wasn't eating anything and me pretending like everything was fine. He kind of shoved me out of the way and said, move. And he went out the front door and he jumped in a car and drove off and that was the last time I saw him. Listen to season 14 of Family Secrets

starting May 7th on the IHeart Radio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts. This season on Dear Chelsea with me, Chelsea Handler, we have have some fantastic guests like Amelia Clark. When like young people come up to me and they want to be an actor or whatever. And my first thing is always, can you think of anything else that you can do? Rather be disappointed in. Do that. Dennis Leary.

I wake up and I'm hitting him in the head with a water bomb. And Bruce Jenner is on the aisle in a karate stance like he's about to attack me. Like making karate noises. And his entire the Kardashians family, over there, everybody's going, and the air marshal is trying to grab my arms and screaming. I immediately know that I've been asleep walking. David O'Yellowo. I love this podcast, whether it's therapy or relationships or religion or sex or addiction or

you just go straight for the guts. Guy Branham. So anyway, Nicole Kidman broke up with Keith Urban. Being half of a country couple was always a hat she was going to wear, not like a life she was going to lead. Oh, interesting. I like that. Did you practice that on your way over? Gaten Matarazzo from Stranger Things. Tana Monsu. Camilla Marone at Carrie Kenny Silver. And more.

Listen to these episodes of Dear Chelsea on the Iheart Radio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts. He would have blended in perfectly if he wasn't fidgeting so much. The stranger kept rubbing his hands together, scratching his neck. everything except looking around the room for someone. He perched here a set of stairs in the foyer of the Manchester Arena, the city room as it was known to regulars. He was just sitting there, conveniently hidden from the CCTV cameras. Not texting anyone, not killing time with a book,

not touching his massive backpack. Lingering wasn't a crime. Lots of people hunt around the city room, waiting for friends and loved ones to emerge from nearby Victoria Station. On May 22nd, 2017, parents were scattered around the foyer, killing time as they waited for their kids to burst out of the arena, riding the youthful hive on Ariana Grande concert. But this one guy felt different.

Maybe he wasn't waiting for someone. Maybe he was waiting for something to happen. A suspicious dad tapped a security guard in the city room. That man on the stairs was fidgeting and sweating far too much for his liking. The guard glanced casually over his shoulder. The strange man dressed to blend in, black Hollister vest, black jeans, brown ball cap. He was so unremarkable that he nearly faded into the background, like he was just part of the scenery. But the concerned dad was right. The man radiated weird vibes.

He gave the security guard an uneasy feeling that he couldn't put his finger on. And that wasn't even the whole picture. The security team didn't know that this man had lingered around the arena for almost two hours. Security wasn't paying attention. Two of the guards slipped out that night for a two-hour dinner. Another two took their break in tandem and left the city room unpatrolled for nearly 45 minutes. They even passed the suspicious man on his way into the city room as they were leaving it. The city room was never supposed to go without supervision,

especially on the night of a concert teeming with vulnerable teenage girls. But the security team didn't follow the rules tonight. They relax, and this weirdo slipped right through the cracks. nagging feelings tugged the guard back and forth. One instinct told him that something was off with this guy. The stranger didn't sit right with him, literally. I mean, who fidgeted that much? Why not just take a lap and walk it off, dude?

Or check Instagram for God's sakes. No, wait. Owning a backpack was illegal. So was milling around in a public space. What, you're going to get this guy in trouble for just sitting there and looking sweaty? Now the guard was sweating too. He had to do something. He grabbed his radio and tried to connect with the control room.

No dice. The channels buzzed with excessive traffic. He tried again and again and again. Sudden chatter broke his focus. Young girls started streaming into the city room from the arena, singing and squealing over each other. The show was over. Time to move on.

The guard moved his post outside. The suspicious man noticed the crowd too. He walked down the stairs to the center of the city room at 10.30 p.m. Now he was on his phone, smiling. There were no guards around to ask what he was doing. No one to stop him from doing what came next. The girl's heart thudded louder than it ever had before. Balloons rained from the ceiling as Ariana Grande's final high note soared to the rafters.

Ariana tore to a dangerous woman for the finale. Her number one fan watched from her seat in the balcony, wearing those thigh-high boots. She clicked her heels on the floor to the beat. She loved the way the music made her feel. It was the perfect ending for the perfect night. Everything she could have wanted and so much more. She had new memories, new tour shirts she held to her chest like treasure, and new girlfriends who worshipped the same idol that she did.

They lent each other their hair ties and swapped dance moves like sisters. Sweat glistened in their hair and clunked their cat-eared headbands. The concert was one giant baptism and the sweat was the holy water. They were adults now, cool enough to hang on their own. Her heart sank as it hammered in her chest. They'd have to pry her from her seat. She never wanted to leave this very spot. She wanted to live in this giddy, flawless moment forever.

Then she heard blast, loud as fuck. Was that part of the show? The sound froze people in their steps, and the arena went silent for a few seconds. Fans waited for something else to happen, another sound to help glue them in. Instead, a gush of hot air swept across the arena. It stung the girl's eyes and blew the bangs off her forehead. White smoke poured in first and then came the smell.

Sulfur. Fireworks. Danger. Run. The screams started and never stopped. Fans rushed to the exits even though they didn't know which ones led to safety. No one knew what was happening, period. Theory spread to the crowd like a nasty.

rumor, some harmless, some atrocious. The bang was a balloon popping, a loudspeaker failing, a train that crashed into Victoria's station, an active shooter on the loose. No one knew the truth that a terrorist detonated a bomb in the city room. A voice came over the loudspeaker with an eerie sense of calm. Ladies and gentlemen, please take your time. There's no need to bunch up. The chaos unraveling around the girl said otherwise. The force of the crowd Knoxon fans over and swept them under a stampede of footsteps. People vaulted over staircase railings to cut in front of each other. A throng of fans absorbed her and pushed her into a hallway, but they were moving too slowly. She forced her way out to the front of the mob and sprinted ahead. She was alone now.

No parents, no friends. Her feet couldn't carry her fast enough. She nearly fell over in her boots. Damn these heels. She kept her head straight as details whizzed by her. People strewn across the floor, some in pools of blood, some being loaded on the makeshift stretchers, their skin glistening with massive dots. She couldn't tell what the dots were as she didn't want to know. Her heart thudded in a different way now. Shaky, rapid beats terror pumping through her body. The excitement of the night was gone. There was only fear now. She tuned out the screams, the cries of mothers being separated from their children, the whales of her new sisters lying helpless on the floor, then the useless message over the intercom. She filtered it all out and focused on her boots clacking on the tile.

Each click was another step toward safety. Blood streaked the floor underneath her feet. One of her heels sunk into the tender flesh of someone's hand. Her stomach twisted with guilt, but she couldn't stop. She had to go, go, go, go, get the hell away from here. Her treasure trove of T-shirts and merch was gone now. She didn't even know when she dropped it all. She didn't care. Her catty or slipped down under her face as she ran. She tore them off and tossed them aside without hesitation. A team of stewards banded together to form a human wall to keep guests away from the worst of the smoke. She sprinted away from them and into the city room. More blood on the floor. More people covered in those dots. She spotted a clump of flesh from the

corner of her eye. Oh my God, a leg. That was a human fucking leg. Tears were running down her face. She wanted to rewind. She wanted to go home. She wanted to bury herself under a pile of blanket to forget that she ever came here, that she ever wanted to come here, that she was ever so stupid to leave the house alone. Her mouth opened and she couldn't stop what came next. She was screaming, shrieking, louder than she ever had in her life. She ran faster than she ever thought was possible. Someone somewhere didn't have a leg and couldn't run away. So she had to run twice as hard. For both of them, she needed to live. Someone needed to make it out of this nightmare alive. She burst through the doors of Manchester Arena.

Police lined the streets. They yelled to the crowd, run, run, keep on running. And that's exactly. She ran until one of the heels buckled under the pressure. She ran until she couldn't breathe. She ran until she couldn't see the arena or the swarms of police cars or any proof of that hellscape.

So she can maybe, just maybe. We'll be right back after this word, word, word. I'm Kate Winkler Dawson, a host of the Wicked Words podcast. Each week I sit down with the true crime writers behind some of the most compelling true crime stories and discuss their years spent investigating and why it still matters.

He sees his father coming out of the woods with his hands over his face and he knows something happened. His father just grabs him and says she's gone. She's gone. These are the cases that leave survivors, families, and the journalists who cover them changed forever. Working in national television, it'll push you to your limits,

and you'll end up doing things you never thought you'd do. You know, you look back at it and you're like, I can't believe that really happened. Join me and step inside the investigation. New episodes drop every Monday on the Exactly Right Network. Listen to Wicked Words on the IHeart Radio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts. Your husband is not who you think he is.

Your body is not what you thought it was. Your identity is formed by a secret history. I'm Danny Shapiro, and these are just a few of the stunning stories I'll be exploring on the 14th season of Family Secrets. And just then, we felt the plain turn in the air, so much so that the bags that were under people's seats just kind of flew into the aisle. Each week, we dive head first into the complex power of secrecy, how it shapes our identities and relationships, and how it ultimately can reveal to us our truest selves. My daughter, she's pretending she doesn't know,

but is trying to cook and feed me and keep me alive because I wasn't eating anything. And me pretending like everything was fine. He kind of shoved me out of the way and said, move. And he went out the front door and he jumped in a car and drove off, and that was the last time I saw him. Listen to season 14 of Family Secrets, starting May 7th, on the IHeart Radio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts.

This season on Dear Chelsea with me, Chelsea Handler, we have some fantastic guests like Amelia Clark. When like young people come up to me and they want to be an actor or whatever, my first thing is always, can you think of anything else that you can do? Rather be disappointed in. Do that. Dennis Leary. I wake up and I'm hitting him in the head with a water bomb. And Bruce Jenner is on the aisle in a karate stance like he's about to attack me.

They're like, making karate noises. And his entire the Kardashian family over there, everybody's going, and the air marshal is trying to grab my arms and screaming. And I immediately know that I've been asleep walking. David O'Yellowo. I love this podcast, whether it's therapy or relationships or religion or sex or addiction or you just go straight for the guts. Guy Branham.

So anyway, Nicole Kidman broke up with Keith Thurban. Being half of a country couple was always a hat she was going to wear, not like a life she was going to lead. Oh, interesting. I like that. Did you practice that on your way over? Gaten Matarazzo from Stranger Things. Tena Monsu. Camilla Morone, Carrie Kenny Silver, and more.

Listen to these episodes of Dear Chelsea on the Iheart Radio app, Apple Podcast, or wherever you get your podcasts. Manchester stood in pieces. The city split into fragments. Police cordoned off sections of town with caution tape. Streets turned gray, void of life and energy. Small patches of color around town attempted to revive morale. Vibrant bouquets, well-loved, stuffed animals, and bundles of pink balloons. Yellow tape circled Manchester Arena.

The scene inside the city room told the story of the attack. Screws penetrated metal doors, deep scuffs. marred brick walls. The arena would lay dormant for months, silent like the rest of the city. On May 23rd, 2017, the day after the attack, a hush settled in Manchester. People tried not to cry. They muted the news. They stopped conversations mid-sentence. At Buckingham Palace, the queen observed a minute of silence for the victims of the tragedy at the arena. They had a label for it by now. After a night of chaos and confusion, they knew it was a suicide bombing. The bomb projected 3,000 nuts and screws across the city room. The shrapnel cut open limbs, necks, and chess.

It was powerful enough to kill anyone in a 20-meter radius. Some people were only standing two meters away when it detonated. Experts said the force was like being shot point-blank 20-plus times. There were 358 people in the city room when the terror. terror as detonated the bomb. Sixty ambulances rushed victims to the hospital that night. First, the number of injured people was given as 59. Then it grew to 116, and it would eventually mushroom to over a thousand. Three fans come to their wounds in the hospital.

19 died at the scene. Police identified each one with fingerprints and dental records. The Queen's minute of silence was barely enough time to read every name of the deceased victims. But today, it was all the time that the English authorities could spare. The country was on high alert. The government mobilized nearly a thousand soldiers to patrol London. There would be no tours of the Palace of Westminster or Buckingham Palace today. The changing of the guard ceremony was cancelled so officers could be redeployed.

Leagues of soldiers stood guard outside major tourist attractions. Other officers patrolled the streets of Manchester guns in hand. Everyone else pieced together the country's biggest investment. The officer saw the minute hand lurched forward on his watch. The queen's moment of silence was over, back to work. He sighed and poured himself another cup of coffee. That minute was the most rest he'd had all day. He plunked down at his desk and rubbed his face.

He took a deep breath and flipped open the file on his desk. Again, Selman of Baby, age 22, born and raised in Manchester. Police at the scene found him in bloody pieces scattered across the city room. He was so mangled that officers needed a bank card in his pocket to identify him. Facial recognition confirmed it. A Beatty was the culprit. The British government had been aware of him for years. The call started in 2011.

People who had brushed shoulders with Abedi, dialed England's anti-terrorism outline to report him, said his extremist views were worrisome. The domestic intelligence agency, M-15, were even aware of a Beatty before the attack. They never thought he warranted immediate action, though. And now, it was too late. Officers had to work backwards, retrace every connection, every relationship, every tip overseas. ISIS formerly claimed responsibility for the bombing, but there were still gaping halls in the investigation.

The police didn't know how many people had helped move this scheme along, and they didn't know if those people were in England, right. now. The officer was one of roughly a thousand others working around the clock to find answers. He ran over the timeline again. A Beatty was born in Manchester in 1994 to Libyan immigrant parents. He attended the Bernage Academy for boys, then Manchester College between 2011 and 2013. That's when the calls to the anti-terrorist line started. He visited Libya before enrolling at Southford University to study business and management. And that part was key. The government granted him 7,000 pounds for student loans before he dropped out of school later that year.

7,000 pounds could buy a lot of different things. Like plane tickets. Abedi went to Libya one final time in mid-April. That's when he connected with members of an Islamic State unit. The same unit involved with the Bataklan Theater attack in Paris. When Abedi returned on May 18th, he had a plan. Who's going to hit the United Kingdom where it hurt, right at the doors of its largest. indoor arena. Records show that he withdrew money from a bank account he hadn't touched in a year.

Then he bought materials, a backpack, nuts, and screws, a lead acid battery. With the right training, experts said he could have built a bomb in just 24 hours. A baitie made his final arrangements. He wired his brother, 2,500 pounds. He placed the bomb in his new backpack and strolled into the city room in the Manchester Arena. He dawdled there for two hours. He doddled there for two before it was time. Abedi called his mother 15 minutes before he detonated the bomb. He asked her to forgive him for anything he had done wrong, would forgive him anytime soon. They would overcome him instead. Salman Abedi was dead, of course. His bomb tore his torso to shreds, catapulted it across the room.

Authorities arrested his brother in South Manchester shortly thereafter. That was one lead. But the number of possible connections felt endless. There were 3,000 lines of inquiry within the counterterrorism control room. Police searched dozens of houses, arrested innocent men, and questioned them for hours just to be safe. But there were still so many ifs, so many missing details. Details that might never truly be uncovered. The officer tossed the file onto his desk.

England's terrorism threat level rose to critical today. They'd do anything to lower it, to tell people that everything would be all right, to uncover some smoking gun that would put people at ease. The officer was unsure what a discovery like that would even look like. He was unsure it even existed. But the people of Manchester needed something to heal them. And they needed it immediately.

It could happen again. Everyone was thinking it, but no one wanted to say it out loud. Not on an occasion like this. Today was supposed to be about healing, strength, unity. Today was all love. One Love, Manchester, it was called. Ariana Grande's benefit concert scheduled for this afternoon, June 4th, 2017, just two weeks after the attack at the Manchester Arena.

One day earlier, terror struck England again. London Bridge this time. They plowed down a line of pedestrians with a van, and they stabbed the survivors in the street. Eight more deaths, 48 more injuries. The crime scene at London Bridge was still fresh when 55,000 fans filed into the old Trafford Cricket Ground for Ariana's benefit show. Eyes darted around the stadium. Anxiety vibrated through the crowd, especially in the very front.

It felt like deja vu. A pack stadium, a sea of cat ears. Young girls pressed shoulder to shoulder in oversized sweatshirts. Her body knew she had been here before. Nearly two weeks ago, she was sprinting away from an event just like this. She swore she'd never go back to such a place, never walk alone, never trust the strange faces in a large crowd, never let loose, not even a little. She didn't even want to speak anymore.

She worried that if she opened her mouth again, she'd start screaming and never be able to stop. But here she was. One girl in a crowd of 55,000 people, nearly four times the size of the last show. She huddled with a pack of 14,000 fans from the original Manchester concert. Ariana treated them to complimentary tickets at the foot of the stage. The 40,000 remaining tickets sold out in six minutes. One Love Manchester was the event of the year. But the girl still wasn't sure that she wanted to be here.

She ranked the artist on the lineup in her head as a distraction. She had to see Katie Perry and Miley Cyrus, obviously. Justin Bieber and Nile Horan were about. there too. There was some guy named Liam Gallagher, who apparently was a big deal, but she could take her leave his set. Then there was cold play, usher. Crap, who else? The distraction wasn't working. Her heart rammed to her rib cage, just like it did when she'd heard that bang two weeks ago when she threw herself down the Manchester Arena hallway, threw the smell of sulfur and passed the trails of blood on the tile floor. The image wouldn't leave her mind. She was supposed to be safe here,

But she was supposed to be safe at Manchester Arena, too. Her heartbeat was all she could hear anymore. It made her feel sick, disgusted, feelings far too mature for a teenager. The sound was a nagging, constant reminder of what she lived through. It made her crazy. It made her... Pop music suddenly poured from the stadium speakers. Notes the song she knew inside out and backwards,

and she danced to alone in a room, hairbrush and ham like a microphone, almost every day. Her heart beat faster. It was different this time. She was excited again, back to being lost in the moment, to just being a teenager. Adulthood could wait. She exhaled for the first time in a long time. And then she opened her mouth without thinking. She didn't scream. She sang. She couldn't pretend that the Manchester attack never happened. No one could, but she could remember this better. This was the moment that no one could take away from her,

this indescribable sensation of singing along with 55,000 people. In reality, there were millions of people singing along. Fans tuned into live streams of the benefit around the world. The BBC's stream alone peaked at 14.5 million viewers. Every time someone felt hope or peace, a couple more notes joined the worldwide harmony. Concerned parents and terrified fans began to feel an ounce of relief. Even the officers working on the case felt it,

including the one going over Salman Abides, file over and over again. They knew now that there was no network in England that supported the bomber. That was the ultimate relief. The One Love Manchester concert were gone to raise over $23 million to distribute to the victims of the attack and their families. It was a serious win to help soften the blow of even more. serious losses. The kind of losses that you can never get back.

Thousands of people lost their innocence on May 22nd, 2017. 22 people lost the chance to sing again. And that is the ultimate disgrace. I'm Jake Brennan, Scraseland. Discraceland was created by yours truly and is produced in partnership with Double Elvis. Credits for this episode can be found on the show notes page at disgracelandpod.com. If you're listening as a disgrace land all-access member, thank you for supporting the show. We really appreciate it.

And if not, you can become a member right now by going to disgracelandpod.com slash membership. Members can listen to every episode of disgrace land ad-free. Plus, you'll get one brand new exclusive episode every month. Weekly unscripted bonus episodes, special audio collections, and early access to merchandise and events. Visit disgracelampod.com. slash membership for details.

Rate and review the show and follow us on Instagram, TikTok, Twitter, and Facebook at DisgracelandPod, and on YouTube at YouTube.com slash at disgraceland pod. Rockerola. When a group of women

discover they've all dated the same prolific con artist, they take matters into their own hands. I vowed. I will be his last target. He is not going to get away with this. He's going to get what he deserves.

We always say that Trust your girlfriends. Listen to the girlfriends. Trust me, babe. On the IHart Radio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcast. This season on Dear Chelsea, with me, Chelsea Handler, we have some fantastic guests like Amelia Clark. When, like, young people come up to me and they want to be an actor or whatever.

My first thing is always, can you think of anything else that you can do? Rather be disappointed in. Do that. David O'Yello I love this podcast whether it's therapy or relationships or religion or sex or addiction or you just go straight for the guts

Dennis Leary Gaten Matarazzo from Stranger Things Tena Monsu Camilla Morone Carrie Kenny Silver and more listen to these episodes of Dear Chelsea on the IHeart Radio app

Apple Podcasts or wherever you get your podcasts Your husband is not who you think he is. Your body is not what you thought it was. Your identity is formed by a secret history. I'm Danny Shapiro, and these are just a few of the stunning stories I'll be exploring on the 14th season of Family Secrets. He kind of shoved me out of the way and said, move.

And he went out the front door and he jumped in a car and drove off, and that was the last time I saw him. Listen to Season 14 of Family Secrets, starting May 7th on the IHeart Radio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts.