Morbid - Episode 402: Listener Tales 60

Episode Date: December 9, 2022

Listener tales!!!! Brought to you by you, for you, from you and all about you!!!! This installment is absolutely wild, as usual. You guys stay out there delivering. This batch includes a crazy haunted house story, (you know like, our favorite thing ever) a listener that survived a hit and run and a listener who was pulled over by…not the cops! If you have a listener tale please feel free to send it on in to [e-mail] with “Listener Tale” somewhere in the subject line :)See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

Hey, Prime members, you can listen to morbid, early, and ad-free on Amazon music. Download the app today. You're listening to Immorbid Network Podcast. Hi, I'm Lindsay Graham, the host of Wondries Podcast American Scandal. Our newest series looks at the Kids for Cash Scandal, a story about two judges who stood accused of making millions of dollars in a brazen scheme that shattered the lives of countless children. Listen to American scandal on Amazon Music or wherever you get your podcasts. Hey, weirdos, I'm Ash.

And I'm Elena. And this is my med. I know, I got really breathy toward the end. It got very marylent at the end. Oh my god. I feel... I don't even know. I was going to say, I just started talking. I was going to say, I just started talking. I was going to say, I was going to say, I just started talking. I was going to say, I was going to say, I just started talking. I was going to say, I just started talking. I was going to say, I don't even know. I was gonna say, I just, I started talking

and my brain was like, you don't know how you feel. I feel like Megan's dying. I don't even know how I feel. I don't even know how I deal. There you go. I absolutely, I played that song for you before, but I do not know it. We're probably in different places

while you're listening. So anyways, this is a listener tale's episode brought to you. But before you from you and all about you, baby. And if you're listening to this, I think it comes out after Thanksgiving, baby. I'm not really sure. I hope you got a happy holiday. And yeah, it comes out to Wondering Plus.

People the day after Thanksgiving, I believe. No, I don't even think it does, actually. I lied. I do not know what this comes up. It's all a little confusing these days. You know what we do know? We're ahead. We know that it's a Friday.

We know that it's a Friday. It's a Friday. It's a Friday-yzzle. Yep. No. I knew that Friday-yzzle. Yep. No. I knew that you said, we're done. We're done. You said, you're done.

You're done. You're done. You're done. All right, well, with that being said, I think that I'm gonna read the first one. How do you like those apples? Types. Correct ahead.

Do you like those apples? Yeah. I don't know. I do. I love apples. This is also very funny. I saw that whoever sent this re-recented and said, I will not give up on us. And I love you. That's fucking great. I love you. I love you a lot. I will not give up on us either. We never did. Never. All right, it says,

hi ladies, please see the attached puttapha titled Listener Tale. I'm alive when I shouldn't be for a spooky great time. It's been a whole last year since it happened, and I'm reflecting on the year it's been. To update, I never set foot in that breakfast place again, and moved on to serving at an ale house 10 times the size, and I'm a kick ass server. Hell yeah. So my previous boss can go fuck himself.

Yeah, he can. Aw, same mind too. And my customer service as a server at the L house landed me two other jobs unrelated to what you're saying. So fuck you to my old boss who did not see my value. Hell yeah. Hell yeah, you're a boss ass bitch. That's right.

Anyway, after forwarding you my own email four times, I decided it's time to make it a putt of fuh for you because I should have done that long ago. Oh my god, you're so sweet. We still read it. Well, instead of not putt-a-fahs, we won't ignore it just because it's not a putt-a-fah. But the putt-a-fahs are so preferred.

Simply because I'm blind. Also. Da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-ina's book. Hey! Did you pre-order it over at tinyorl.com slash the butcher in the run? Thanks for that. And they even established a book club. I'll be on my honeymoon when it arrives. Happy wedding, happy honeymoon. But you bet we'll all be getting together

right when I get back. I attached a mini-list in her tale as well because your girl is extra. That's right, I love it. I love it, I love it. It's still blowing my mind that you guys are buying that book and like telling me that you're buying that book and then like Reading that book that book is doing great. I've seen it flying off the shelves for like months now It just know it's never not wild

So always be wild. I sent in so I never thought I'd say to you. You're so pure. Yeah, but you are when it in regards to your book It regards to your book and regards to your accomplishments. You're very pure. Thank you. All right. Dear ration Elena Hey, first of all, I love you pod cat. I don't know. I love your pod to say I'm really you but don't Listen, why don't you like my voices? I do this for like two seconds. I Love your podcast. I love you from the South Shore, I had to. Oh, the South Shore. That's why I was doing it. Yeah, you can't do it. And I loved hearing about my hometown in the bridge water triangle episodes. My friend said, I have to listen to your

podcast because she knew I would love it. And then I spent I I spread some morbid love to both my mom and fiance. My mom was like, what the fuck are you listening to? Then the car right ended before the episode did and she said, wait, what happens next? So we finished the episode in the house. It was the one on Countess Elizabeth Boutri. Ooh, I love that one. Now my mom, the 60-year-old woman, is hooked on your podcast and banter as well. Hi mom, I love her. So anyway, I apologize for the length of my tail, but never. Trust me. No, no, no, it's worth the read.

What is it? Let's dive right in. They even gave you the little like, we be lose. I haven't done that in a while. Oh my god, I remember when I was going to do that out of live show and then I chickened out. Yeah, you did. Too scary. Too scary.

I don't know how soon I'll do it. All right, I wrote an entire email about finding a diamond a diaper, thinking it was the coolest boopy thing I would ever experience. See, attached pot of a organa, if you're interested. It's like a mini listener tale, while this is a two-parter. Wow. It's like me and Elena in the beginning.

I was ready to send the email, but needed to reread it for the millionth time, so it's sitting in my draw folder, that I had a life-changing experience. This was unbelievable, and I still can't wrap my head around it. If I read a story like this somewhere, I'd be like, wow, that's creative, but deaf didn't actually happen, but like, it's my real life, and it did in fact happen.

I don't believe you. For context, I started a new job as a server at a breakfast place, and long story short, my boss was being a dickwad, so I walked out of a shift. I had to have two training shifts, apparently, for dumbass reasons. But anyway, had I not walked out on one of those shifts, I wouldn't have been shadowing another server on this day, and I wouldn't have met the woman at table nine, which is my lucky number because my birthday is 9.9. So sure. I was mad at the situation and at my boss,

but everything happens for a reason. And O-boy is this a good reason. There were three women at the table, and I had four interactions before the final question that shook me to my core. One. The first thing I said to this table was I love the energy over here. They were laughing, and it just felt warm and fuzzy to me,

and it felt like wonderful family vibes two one woman complimented my necklace upon greeting the table. Let's call her Jane. That was nice of you, Jane We love Jane Three later when I was walking around with a coffee pot another woman at table nine asked a specific question about the necklace I told her my mom got it for me in sixth grade and that I've worn it since amongst other details and mom got it for me in sixth grade and that I've worn it since amongst other details. Four, after this I was checking it on their food. When Jane randomly asked me if my mom had passed and if her name was Carla or Carly or Car-something,

or if I had met somebody with that name in my life, and what was my response? I straight up just asked her if she was a medium. Amazing. Why? Why did my brain think that this is what I should say back to her? I genuinely do not know. I get it.

I mean, she's asking you all kinds of questions. She's like, car, carly, like I was talking about. I was like, you're Theresa Caputa. Oh my God. Long Island medium. Long Island. Long Island. But this is where shit starts to get crazy, crazy spooky, spooky.

She put her head in her hands, looked down and said, I don't know yet, I don't know yet, I don't know. Oh, oh, I'll never forget the way this question overwhelmed I was overwhelmed. I used to be a server and if I had this experience, I would have hives. I feel like thank you, goodnight. I feel like that's what I would say. You would say hi, huh? Yeah, every time that I was talking to the table or walking by, Jane had been looking at me funny. And I was like, all right, she must be a heart of hearing and maybe she's reading my lips. Nope, she was reading me.

Maybe saying something about the energy at the table opened up a portal for Jane to do her thing. Who fucking knows? But I'm so thankful that she did. Spoiler alert. After I got lunch with Jane,, oh excuse me, spoiler alert, I got lunch with Jane after this so I can fill in some of those details as we go. Also, my mom is alive and well.

That was an assumption from another woman at the table based on my response to the necklace question. Additionally, we think the names that begin with C-A-R was simply her trying to get the concept of my actual car. Oh wow. Interaction number five, my life changing moment. Jane asked out of the blue if the brakes in my car were bad. Oh.

Are my brakes bad? How the fuck did we go from necklace to here? She told me after the fact that I went completely white when she asked this. I didn't know how pale I was, but I knew I was shaking. I pushed aside one woman's purse so I could make room because I had to sit down. She's like, move over, ladies. I almost felt lightheaded.

My breaks, in fact, were bad. So bad that I felt them shuddering all the sudden the previous night and all my fucking dashboard lights came on at once. Nope, nope, nope, no thank you. Car stuff is always the worst. It is. There was no screeching sound to warn me once, uh, nope, nope, nope, no thank you. Car stuff is always the worst. It is. There was no screeching sound to warn me. And I never felt anything

concerning before this. It was just like, bam, like emerald. Bam. So I was like, what the fuck? Why would a complete stranger say anything about that? Sure. Plenty of people have Brad have bad breaks all the time. But it had just happened to be in a dramatic way with all the dash lights on. So I was like, what the actual fuck? Then she told me not to get in my car that day. She told me to get my car fixed immediately. And she looked at me funny again. She repeated, do not get in your car. Whoa. I can't even explain how powerful this was. She was desperate.

She made me promise that I would not drive my car until it was fixed. When we got lunch a week later, she told me what she saw slash felt was me trying to stop my car, my brakes failing, me crashing into something, and my car on fire. Oh, shit. She said that she was burning up

and had to splash water on her face and couldn't even eat her breakfast. Whoa. She said she couldn't focus or hear anything else going on in the restaurant. It was just me. No wonder this weirdo was looking right. No wonder this weirdo was looking at me that way.

I was legit the only thing she could focus on. And this is from a woman who does not call herself a medium and will not call herself a medium because she doesn't know what to do with these feelings. Oh, that must be so overwhelming. I know, I can't even imagine. So anyway, this changed my headspace and I could not recover. I tried to make coffee but it overflowed. I couldn't move to clean it up or stop the machine.

I just stared blankly while everybody moved around me. I sobbed in the parking lot because I was overwhelmed. Like a complete stranger just told me not to drive my car. Like how the fuck else do I react to that? I called my mom to tell her I can't drive my car and I need her to come get me ASAP. Like mom, come pick me up. I'm scared. I love you. I left work early because the boss can go fuck himself anyway. Oh yeah. I got the car towedad to my mechanic I told these things to Jane and reassured her that I was keeping my promise and then we exchanged numbers Get ready for full body chills my mechanic called two days later and I answered to him saying well actually yelling at me Holy shit your brakes were on the floor. How'd you get them that low? I know he sounded just like that. That's exactly what he sounded like.

He was referring to my back breaks, which is the fuckery that I felt the day before. I told him I had only felt it less than 24 hours before I told it to him, and it happened suddenly that I just needed to get to work that day, Sunday, and plan to drop it off to him on Monday. He then added, Jillian, you also had no front breaks at all.

They had factory clips on them. They never been done. They never been done. They never been done. Never. I'm basically just like impersonating my mechanic. Yeah, pretty much. What do you mean I had no front breaks?

Let me let me fucking know how this car passed inspections for 10 years. What? I had it less than a year, so I wouldn't have ever known. He was shocked at the status of my breaks. I literally laughed out loud after I hung up the phone. I could not believe it. Stranger Reado was right.

So I know, my mom was like, don't you go telling your mechanic why you're getting it to. Because not everybody is receptive to this. When I picked it up, I asked if he was into the spooky spooky. And he laughed and said, I live in a 200 year old house by myself. I absolutely am. I love this guy. He's so I told him this story and he got the chills because this was so cool and spooky. We're both thankful for it. Thankful for Anamaze by Stranger Lady Jane.

I love Jane. And I love your mechanic. And I love that you got lunch with Jane. And I love your mom. She's like, don't go tell people about this. It's like crazy. I love it. When Jane and I got lunch, I told her what my mechanic said. Then she said that it was extremely validating for her. And she won't hold back when she feels something like this about a stranger. Get ready for more chills. She told me that she's felt that feeling only three times in her life. And that mind was the worst. Whoa. I repeat the worst one. What an honor. I know, what an honor, Ken.

She told me that she usually holds back. But that's how bad her feelings were, how bad her feelings about me were. She could not leave without saying something. She gave me a memorial bracelet of someone in her life who had passed. She predicted his death for 15 years, and exactly what she said was gonna happen happened.

Whoa. But somehow, mine was the worst feeling she's had. That's fucking bonkers and terrifying. She said it would keep me safe, and I wear it every day. Oh, I love that. This is a beautiful friendship that developed over a breakfast, truly. She thanked me for believing in her,

then get ready for it. She told me they believing in her, then get ready for it. She told me they weren't even planning on getting food that morning. She said she randomly pulled in the parking lot because she felt like she had to. The other two women were like, what are you doing? Because they were on their way to do something else. She told them, we're going here and I don't know why yet.

I went 100% absolutely genuinely believe that I am alive today because of her decision to go to that breakfast place. I believe that. Wow. Yeah. I definitely have a new outlook on life. Whenever I have a bad day or I'm stressed and overwhelmed or whatever else, I try to

remind myself that I'm alive when I shouldn't be. Wow. I hope you enjoyed my story. I'm so sorry it took so long. Stop it. And thank you for taking the time to read it. Don't worry, I will keep it weird for sure. Peace, love, morbid, Jillian.

Holy shit, Jillian. That's fucking bonkers. Holy shit. Do you want to read the little mini one? Oh sure. A mini mini mini mini mini. I'm mini listener, Taylor. I love it.

You literally wrote that. Also, oh my god, I'm so glad that you're alive. Just want to put that out there. All right, so this is called a title, a diamond adipa. So we're going to dive right in. My mom and my sister went to see a local medium in a large group setting, but I did not go with them on this day. The medium looked at my sister for a long time and pointed to my mom and said something along the lines of, there's another one.

And my sister said, yes, I have an older sister. The medium told them that my uncle wanted to say that he's watching over us and loves us very much. That's adorable. I know. The uncle she was referring to was killed in a hit and run. Oh, sorry. But before he passed, he would always call to say,

uncle, he loves you very much. Oh, I love uncle. I do too. She also said that he leaves us messages when he can. My sister believes that these messages are dimes Because she gets them randomly everywhere in places that it's extremely odd to find a single dime And because her friend also receives dimes as messages from her deceased parents. That's so cool of that My mom was beside herself that he came through and my sister told me all about it when she got home

So the next day I was at work as a nanny for this sweet little girl. When she woke up in the morning, I changed her diaper as one does. And what's in her diaper? A fucking dime. Oh, what? Perfectly placed flat on her little tummy.

Oh! In my six years of childcare, I had never experienced something like this. Weird ass things in pockets? Sure. I've pulled whole ass pine cones out of a three-year-old's pocket. Oh, yeah. That was way too small to be holding a fucking pine cone,

and yet somehow did. But a dime and a diaper? Come on. She wasn't big yet. She wasn't yet big enough to be finding things and stuffing things in her own diaper. So there was some, there was for sure some spooky things happening.

Since I'm the one that would always wake her up in the morning, I completely believe my uncle put it in there to make sure I got his message. Since I wasn't there to hear it for myself the night before. I paused in disbelief, chuckled, teared up, and was like, wow, that's so fucking cool. He wanted to let me know he's looking out for me too. But wait, it gets more spooky spooky. I check the year on the dime. It's the fucking year my uncle died. Jooooood! So of course I kept the dime. I need to add that into that I completely cleaned and touched no part of the wet diaper. And it's chilling in a safe spot on my dresser. This is the original tarot, a tale I wanted to share with you ladies.

And all the weirdos, because it's really spupi and silly. But then I had a literal life-changing moment, and that story is too good not to share in detail. Hope you enjoyed them both. We did. We really did. We totally did. Holy shit.

We did. We did, Julian. No, those are fucking rad. And you know what, I'm glad you didn't give up on us, because we're here. I know. I'm not giving up on us. And We will never be away. That was hilarious. Oh, man, Jillian, I'm really glad you're alive and I'm really glad that that was a clean dime.

Me too. I feel the same. What makes a person a murderer? Are they born to kill or are they made to kill? I'm Candice DeLong and on my podcast, Killer Psychie Daily, which you can find exclusively on Amazon Music, I share a quick 10-minute rundown every weekday on the motivations and behaviors of the criminal masterminds, you read about in the news. I have decades of experience as a psychiatric nurse, FBI agent, and a criminal profiler. On Killer Psychie Daily, I'll give you my expert perspective on cases like the mysterious

New York City drugings, Breaking Down Lori Valow, a.k.a. Mommy Doom stays motives, and what drove Caitlin Armstrong to murder? I'll also bring on expert guests who add even more insight into these criminal minds. I promise you won't regret adding these 10 minutes to your morning routine. Hey Prime members, listen to the Amazon Music exclusive podcast Killer Psychie Daily in the Amazon Music app. Download the app today! Tyler Syke, Daily in the Amazon Music app. Download the app today.

The names have been changed so you can call me Biff or Jethro or whatever you care to. Because it's a made-up name anyway. My story is in the attached PDF 14 point and double spaced and fair warning. It's a lengthy one. I'm sending it in at the urging of my kids and whether you read it on the pot or not. I hope you enjoy it. Love the show and take care. You too, Biff. And they signed it Biff.

I like Biff. I love it. All right, Biff. And they signed it Biff. I like Biff. I love it. Alright, Biff, let's see what you got. So this says to the tune of Hard Knock Life. It's a haunted house for us. It's a haunted house for us. I am obsessed with you. That's the second time that we've harmonized two days. Yeah, we've been harmonizing all over the place today. We're like, Destiny's Child happened here. Exactly. You're the best. My thoughts exactly.

I'm absolutely not. You don't want to be the best. We share the title of Beyoncé. Are we both Queen B? Every Queen B fan is like, no, the fuck, no. I'm not getting into that. We're not going to like, no way. Maybe the Queen can keep her crown.

Yeah, we love. Absolutely. We stand. to like, no way. Maybe the Queen can keep her crown. We love. Absolutely. We stand. I do stand Biff. I stand Biff the most. So it's, hey ladies, long time listener, first time caller here. I know. Story.

And I've got a story about my young at the time, family, living in a house that was well and truly haunted. Yes. The happenings occurred over several months. So unfortunately, I'm going to have to ask you to set aside several minutes to read this story. What's unfortunate about that? Nothing.

I kept the geographical details vague and changement. Any names used or did I? Yeah, no, I totally did. Because frankly, I've only shared this story maybe a half a dozen times since it happened, and I really just want some degree of plausible deniability due to my career path. All right. Having said all that, buckle up because it's about to go down. since it happened, and I really just want some degree of plausible deniability due to my career path. All right, having said all that, buckle up because it's about to go down.

Timber. As a relatively newly married couple with two kids, both under the age of two, we hadn't gotten to the point of being able to purchase a house and moved into a rental. It was a great house built in the early 70s and an older part of an older town in an area absolutely thick with Civil War history.

I know what you're thinking, but I was like, whoa, I know what you're thinking. But as far as I know, the Civil War angle played no partner story. Okay. That was what I was hoping to sweat for my brow. When we moved in, the owner of the house had only owned it for a few years, having purchased it from the estate of the previous owners and we were only the second tenants to live in the house since he'd purchased it. It was a great split level with the two car garage, four bedrooms, a giant living room on each level, big yard, etc. Awesome.

We actually met the previous tenants before they moved out and they were a nice middle aged couple who had just relocated to the area and took a short term lease while they looked for a home to purchase. When we moved in, we basically took over the bottom level of the house because at the time, I was a rookie cop working third ship, ship, ship, and being on the lower level, there was less light to bother me when I would sleep during the day. Generally speaking, I'd get home and have about an hour with the fam before my then wife, now ex-wife, would head off to work and drop the babies at their daycare.

Then we'd have a few hours in the evening after she got home before I headed to work. Oh, that's tough. Yeah, that is tough. We hadn't been in the house for more than a month or so before weird things started happen. Occasionally during the day, I'd get woken up by somebody ringing the doorbell. Only to find that when I opened the door, no one was there. Thought they were just playing a little ding-dong ditch on you. That's what I was thinking.

Other times, I'd be woken up by the sound of the garage door opening and would think, it would think, till I check my watch, that the wife had gotten home from work. After waiting a few minutes for her to come in, I'd finally get up and open the door to the garage and find it empty. Lee. After I'd mentioned it to my wife a few times, she actually called the previous tenants and asked them if they'd ever had any electrical issues with the doorbell or the garage door. And they told her that they had. And that the landlord had sent electricians out multiple times.

And that none of the electricians had ever been able to find an issue with either device. Dun, dun, dun. The previous tenants said that they ended up just making a joke out of it. And whenever the doorbell would ring, they'd say, hello, Mrs. Murphy. And when the garage would open, they'd yell that they'd say, welcome back, Mrs. Murphy. What? Who is this Mrs. Murphy, you asked? I know.

It's just about to ask. That's weird. Did they just name this ghost Mrs. Murphy? Yeah. I know you're asking because we sure should ask. We were very informed that the Murphy's were the original owners of the home and that they had been an elderly couple who both passed away in the home

those several years apart. Mrs. Murphy had lived by her house, self in the home for several years before passing. And the previous tenants had just made a sort of joke about the quote unquote electrical faults in the house. Oh, okay. Fast forward a couple of months to the Christmas season. And the happenings are continuing. And we've gotten used to them sort of. Still weird, but

nothing we can't manage. A member of my ex's family, we'll call him Tim, who had some pretty significant health issues, had moved into one of our extra bedrooms so that we could keep an eye on him and do the little stuff like getting him his appointments, picking up prescriptions for him, all that good stuff. You're good people. Whoa. I mean, it's the truth. We didn't tell him anything about the doorbell or garage door when he moved in other than they go off sometimes because we weren't trying to talk about ghosts, especially not to somebody who's already not in the best shape physically. And whenever we'd hear that he'd hear

the doorbell or garage, he'd mumumble and mutter about how it had to be some asshole kids, or how the wind needed to knock it off, things like that. Unfortunately Tim was and with us for too long before his already poor health took a pretty significant turn for the worst, and he passed away in his sleep. Being young and dumb at the time, my ex and I didn't really pay attention to the things he said in the days leading up to his passing. I don't mean we attention to the things he said in the days leading up to his passing. Oh. I don't mean we ignored his medical concerns.

I mean, the other stuff that I've learned since learned is pretty common among people who are in the process of moving on. I mean, how would you know? Yeah, that's actually something I also learned about recently. Absolutely. Tim talked about seeing shadows and shadow people in his room a lot. Mostly he would see them walking in and out of his room like they were checking on him, but sometimes he'd see them standing in and out of his room like they were checking on him.

But sometimes he'd see them standing around his bed, almost as if they were waiting for him to finally pass. We finally had an oh shit moment when Tim asked my ex, who is she? And when my ex-ass, who's who? He pointed to his recliner and said, that old woman using my chair. Oh, newsflash.

There was no old woman using his chair. Yes, there was. My ex played it off like he was just imagining things. But since he ended up passing just a few hours after talking about the old lady in his chair, we were sure it was Mrs. Murphy appearing to help him move on as he passed. I'm obsessed with Mrs. Murphy. We were about to find out how wrong we were. Never mind. Shortly after Tim's funeral, things began to get wild for us. First, the babies began to have night terrors. All of that's terrible. I started to get texts while I was working about how one of the other or the other babies had woken up screaming bloody murder and nothing seemed to be able to calm them down for quite some time. Oh. Weirdly, it was never both

of them at once, and when my wife would go into the room they shared to soothe the screamer, the other one was sound asleep, despite being only a few feet away from the racket. It got so bad that when my oldest was the one experiencing the terrors, he'd also knock on their bedroom doors if begging to be let out. Oh, I don't like that. The doorbell and garage door began to do their thing more frequently, as in multiple times a day, rather than a few times a week, and then shit got really, really real. The daycare we'd been using had to close temporarily because the providers got sick. It was a small little place, so it didn't take much

for them to not have enough staff to meet the state requirements for staff to child ratio. And I had to keep the babies home with me for a bit while we waited for daycare to start back up. This meant I'd go home and go right to bed for an hour or two, then get up and hang out with my babies all day and hopefully get both of them down for a nap at the same time so I could catch a little bit of a nap and then once my ex got home from work, I'd go back to bed for a few hours before work.

You are a pain. A pain. It wasn't an ideal rest schedule for me, but hey, it's my babies, and any parent knows, sometimes you just gotta suck it up and get through it. You're a job, you're a good parent. During this time frame, I noticed that one, our cat would, a few times a day,

get up from wherever he happened to be laying and sit down in the middle of the hallway, staring down the hall towards the room that Tim had lived in prior to passing away. No, cool. I'm sure that doesn't mean anything at all. Ship began to get moved around and knocked over, too. Wait, I just mentioned the cat.

So it's probably the cat, right? Nah. The most memorable occasion was one morning I was sitting on my couch and heard a crash from the kitchen, which was behind the couch. Cool. Cat must have knocked something over in there since he likes to run around on the counter.

The cat? Oh, the cat that's lying right next to me and his head, and has his head looking up back towards the kitchen with his ears perked up. I guess it's not him after all. Nope. So I get up to go check out the kitchen, and at first don't see anything because I'm looking at the countertops. Then I realized that a small box full of little carvings that Tim had done in his healthier years is in the middle of the kitchen floor instead of being on the counter where it had been. Ooh! When I say middle of the floor, I mean literally the middle.

I'm an average-sized dude, and to move this box, I would have had to pick it up from the counter, take two strides across the room, and put the box down. It's not like the box just tipped over and rolled to the middle of the room or something. Around the same time that happened, my ex was going into Tim's room to clean and noticed that his computer was awake. Despite nobody using the room for anything much less for anything, much less using his computer.

We were both gamers and had our own setups and had no need to use his. Yet here was his computer, not only awake, but the screen showed the computer's notepad was open with a bunch of random letters typed on it. It's probably the cat, right? I don't know. At this point, the cat won't even go down the hallway anymore and let alone enter the Tim's room.

He won't go past where the stairs come up. He simply sits down and stairs down the hall. Oh, and you know when animals are not going somewhere. Yeah, not good. Don't worry, we're almost done. I'm worried. I'm worried. I'm not worried about being almost done.

Yeah, that. There's only two more events of note that happened before we had enough and broke our lease. The first, the babies and I were all down for a nap and I was woken up by the sound of our doorbell being rung over and over and over again. Oh my God, you must have been not only scared, but so pissed off. Oh yeah.

And it says, it sounded like somebody pushed the button, waited for the chime, then pushed the button immediately again over and over. I sleepily assume that it meant it was an actual person instead of Mrs. Murphy, but you guessed it. Nobody's with there when I opened the door. Oh, wait a second. My oldest, still under the age of two, wasn't Nobody's with there when I open the door. Oh, wait a second. My oldest, still under the age of two,

wasn't in bed with me when I woke up. Was he? What? Well, shit. After a few moments of looking in the usual places for him that he typically wander off to post-nap, the panic set in. Oh my God, no.

Where the actual fuck is my kid? I began tearing the house apart as I called my ex and then my mom practically ordering them to get in their cars and get the fuck to our house because we had a missing baby. Oh, about the time my mom was pulling onto our road, she lived only a few minutes away. I was on the phone with 9-1-1. The dispatcher calmly informed me that they had just received a call from our neighbor directly across the, saying that she'd seen my baby in our driveway in his pajamas, and had taken him in to get him out

of the cold. Oh my God. Sprinting across the street, I thanked our neighbor profusely as she told me she'd given him some juice and cookies. I apologize for not having answered the door for her and explained that I must have a napping pretty hard on a count of working nights. She gave me one of the most baffled looks I'd ever seen in my life and informed me that given the steepness of our driveway in her age, she hadn't made any effort whatsoever

to knock on our door or ring our doorbell and had just picked up our baby at the bottom of the driveway and taken him into our house. Oh, cool. So the cliff's notes of that little episode are that might not even two-year-old kid. Somehow managed to open a locked door, walk outside, close and re-lock the door behind him. Make it to the end of the driveway where he got picked up by a neighbor. All while our doorbell was rung over and over again by somebody who was definitely not our neighbor. That's great.

Also, thank goodness. Seriously. That somebody saw your Also, thank goodness. Seriously. That somebody saw your baby out there. And the fact that he got out of a locked door? Like, what? And then it locked behind him? That's terrifying. Shortly after that incident, we had our last experience

following which we moved out. At this point, those night terrors, I mentioned a little while back. Yeah. They'd gotten so bad that we were all sharing one bedroom most nights. This particular night, we were trying to have a little adult-oriented fun and put the babies in their room for a bit. Always quiet, so we left them in their room as we settled to watch a movie.

But watch a movie. Oh, cool, cool. I was saying watch a movie. But before too long, the yelling started out. They were Netflix and show. They were. By this point, we learned to give it a few minutes because once in a blue moon, the tears would stop

after a few minutes and peace would be restored. We, parents understand that. Not this time, though. The screaming got progressively louder and more insistent along with the knocking. The knocking actually got so bad that it sounded more like a full grown adult hammering on the door,

rather than a toddler tapping on it. And that's when we got up to get our babies. As we made it down the hall, I was in the lead, or I was in the lead with my ex close on my heels, and all of a sudden, I got a feeling of dread that I hadn't ever had before and haven't felt since. Time seemed to slow as I reached for the doorknob, and my brain began to process things.

I distinctly remember realizing then that there was no way either of my kids could be pounding on their bedroom door as hard as they seemed to be. Oh my God. I realized I had an overwhelming sense of dread with no obvious reason for it. And I realized that whatever the hell was going on,

we had no answer for it. All of these thoughts seemed to happen in far less time than it took to write them down. In the instant, my hand touched the door knob. I recognized that I wasn't able to turn the knob. Like it had been locked and I simultaneously registered that the banging had ceased at the time my hand made contact with the knob. My body is warming. Ooh, I threw my shoulder into the door and cranked on the knob hard enough that I noticed the muscle in sinew of my forearm standing out like I was trying to open a jar of pickles or something. And then out of the blue, the door popped open and I lurched into the room. The first thing I realized was that the room was absolutely freezing.

I could see my breath. That's how cold it was. And that's a different kind of cold. Yeah, it is. There was an electric feel to the air, despite how cold it was. Wow, this is like very real. And finally, I realized that my oldest was sitting on his bed with his back against the wall and his blanket over his head. A good 12 feet or 12 or so feet away from the door.

There's no possible way on God's green earth that that kid would have been able to go from beating on the door like a full grown adult to sitting with his back against a wall, 12 feet away with a blanket over his head and sitting completely still. No. It's just not possible. Sure isn't. I sprinted across the room and snatched him off his bed

while my ex pulled the other baby from his crib. Slamming the door shut behind me, we fled down the hall and back to the couch where my ex informed me that she would go to her grave remembering the image of me stopping in the doorway of the room as she watched all the hair on the back of my neck stand up. Any cloud of my breath appear in front of my face.

Oh my God, my eyes are full. I got bull chills. Fucking arms, my legs. Bull chills. Jesus Christ. Okay. I wish I could say that we called a priest and said that sage the house and lived happily ever after. But the reality is that we broke

our lease and we're out of the house within a matter of days. That's probably not blame you. Shortly after that, I was able to transfer to a larger agency and we left the area entirely, having never been back to even visit. While my ex and I split up, obviously, I'm happy to report that neither of my boys seemed to have any memory of at all of the events. That's good. And while driving, one of them to a friend's house recently and listening to your podcast, yeah, they're that old now.

Yes, if I never experienced anything paranormal, I don't know if their mother has ever talked to them about that time, but I know I hadn't until he asked about them. I have custody of them and am reasonably confident that they'd never heard of the story before I told them about it. After telling them the story, it was suggested that I put it on paper and send it in. Hell yeah. While they hope to get to hear you tell our story on the podcast, yay! Woo-hoo!

I just hope that you enjoyed our tale and maybe just maybe experienced a bit of hair raising of your own. Oh yeah. Goosebumps on Goosebumps on Goosebumps as you ladies sometimes say. That's not what I found. That's not what I found. I'd love to sign off with a keep it weird but not so weird that line, but I can't honestly can't even begin to come up with something and we'll leave it to the professionals. Love the show and hope you ladies keep on keeping on.

So keep it weird but not so weird that. Keep it weird but not so weird that you move into this random house and you think that, oh wow it's just like this lovely old house where Mrs. and Mr. Murphy passed away And that's okay because their friendly goes but really they're not and then the doorbell and the kid in the driveway and the fucking breath in the air and the no Don't keep it that weird The doorbell and the kid and the breath and the air and the no and the no Wow, Biff Biff Jeff Row are tall That was amazing. Holy shit.

Oh my. My oh my is right. Goodness gracious. I felt all of the hair stand up on my entire body. I felt goosebumps. Tweet. I'm not gonna say that anymore though. Repose.

Repose, there you go. Recent, recent. Oh, a snail mill letter. Forward, forward. Forward that email. Forward that email. My goodness. And you know what that breath, like seeing the breath, that happened to Forward. Forward that email. Forward that email. My goodness.

And you know what that breath, like seeing the breath, that happened to us recently. It did. I don't know if the end of the episode. God dammit. I think that, I think that episode came up before this one. Yeah. When we were on the USS Salem, we were in the mess hall, which you heard about. And all of a sudden, I got, I like jumped a little bit because I saw something out of the

corner of my eye and then I realized it was my own breath. And you said it too. She was like, oh my God. And my, I don't think I really said it on the collab with Sam and Colby. But my legs on that ship were a cold that I have never experienced. And you did say it on the video we did. So you hopefully, you'll be able to see that later in December, I think, at some point. But yeah, that's a different kind of cold and you can feel it. And you don't know it until you've salt it.

It's a totally different temperature change. Yeah, it's wild. And in your right, it does feel somewhat electric. Yeah, it does. That was a really good way to explain it. Yeah, like it doesn't feel like shocked. It just feels like charted. Yeah, exactly. Crazy. Ooh, Biff. That was a good one. That was a good one. It's a haunted house for us.

I love the music you began that. That's really amazing. Like voice cracked there, LOL. Beautiful. Next one is listener tale, hit and run and what? Oh no, I'm scared and I see the pictures attached. Oh my goodness. I hope that you are writing this tale to us. My goodness.

Also I love your little thumbs up there. Wow, we cause, I need. Oh, a dupepe. What dupepe? Oh, dupepepe. Oh, dupepepe. All right. Hey there, ladies, please find attached. A double space putt of a, along with the original word document.

Just in case there's any issue with formatting, once it gets to you. An icon. Of straight up icon. If this makes the podcast, you may be responsible for making a grown man shit himself. Wow, I've always wanted to be responsible for that. If I am so lucky to have it read on an episode here are a few things to know.

Oh, cool. Firstly, you can use my name and all names that are mentioned in the tale. Thank you. I didn't include anything that should be hidden or withheld. Secondly, I named the files of the picture so that you get the good ones last and don't end on the messed up stuff. Oh, hopefully they get to you as intended. Allow me.

I was so nice of you. Allow me to state for the record that the story was not 11 pages until I double spaced it and pumped up the font. I initially felt bad about the length, but I'm sure you'd call me crazy for apologizing. I'm sure would. Crazy. So here we go. Let's see.

Hey, weirdos. Sorry, I had to. My name is Thomas. yeah, crazy. You're crazy. So here we go. Let's see. Hey, Weirdos. Sorry I had to. My name is Thomas. Hi, Thomas. That's my dad's name. Hey, my nephew. There you go. Yes, you can use my name.

I'm 25 years old, and I am from lovely Stockton, California. A city name you have spoken before on the pod. Go figure. We just had an arrest made in a serial killer case and are close neighbors to the horrors of the nationally known speed freak killers. But believe it or not, neither of those are what I'm writing for. The story I'm writing about is definitely not

what I've heard you talk about. Hell, my side of it was all but ignored by the local PD, but we'll get to that later. Geez, I hate that. First, as everybody does, I must ramble a bit about how goddamn great you ladies are. Oh, thank you. It's really nice.

I listen every day while I'm at work. It makes my day go by so much smoother than the times for morbid was part of my day. I've listened so much that morbid, ash, and alina are three very commonly spoken words around my house. I love that. My brother and I found the show around the same time and became obsessed. The only time I don't listen is when I've caught up on all the new episodes and it isn't a release day, which I know may not be healthy given the content, but I could easily be spending

that time on some kind of something else or something. So I guess it's sort of doing all right. You are. You're doing great. Alaina. Oh. Give yourself a damn round of applause and a shameless plug for the butcher in the run. You can buy it at the tiny URL dot com slash the butcher in the red. You can buy it at the tiny URL.com,

slash the butcher in the red. Shameless plug. You never have to give yourself one because I will. Always. I haven't read a book for pleasure in well over a decade. And I just finished your book in about two and a half days. Oh, it's amazing.

I wasn't even sure if I still know how to read to be honest, Telameo. The book was a fun intense read, but I'd be lying if I said there weren't moments that pissed me off. The characters were so developed, it felt like you could just reach out and slap someone, or slap some sense of them, or give them their share of a can of whoop-ass. Oh my god, I love that.

And oh, I wish I could. My mom is reading it now, and I can't wait to be able to talk to her about it. Oh, I love this so much. I do too. This is really just like sweet. Yeah, this just like made my whole month. Thank you. One of the best compliments you've got from the book. Yeah. This is really just like made me yeah, this just like made my whole month. Thank you one of the best compliments You got from the book. It's really great She's not the quite she's not quite the true crime addict that my brother and I are but she has taken quite to the liking of you ladies

Oh my god, he often runs around that lots around the house singing mini mini mini mini more B. Yeah, I think that's pretty cool. I also do Ash can drag can grads on yours and Drew's engagement. It feels like a celebrity wedding, except they actually care about it. Oh my God, thank you so much. I love it. And before you negate that comment, shut up.

You are made to be friends with us. I know, you seriously were. She's the way you speak. You're bigger now. You're bigger than you know, whether you like it or not. Therefore, it's a celebrity wedding. Oh my God, thank you. I love you. I don't make the rules. Call TMZ folks. No, seriously though. I hope you do have the wedding of your dreams. And I certainly hope that Drew gets his way and you play Welcome to the Black Parade.

I will try to push that forward, Drew. You've heard it here first. I signed off on it. Simply because that would be fucking epic. The Singalong Factor is phenomenal. Yes. I was able to see MCR, my chemical romance, at Aftershock Festival, and that's got to be one of the largest Singalongs I've ever witnessed.

That's so fun. Proof of an epic and totally wedding worthy song. Hell yeah. I know. Drew and his friends always said that they were going to play that. Like, all of them would play it at their weddings. Oh yeah. And Drew's the first person to get married,

so we get to start the kickoff. I love that. All right. One more thing before I get on with the tale. Fucking ghosts! Yes! After the episode with Tobias, I told myself that I needed to revisit ghosts after not having listened to them

since, I don't know, freshman year, 2011, 2012. They were like the same age. I don't know what idiotic brain cells just decided to reject, goes back then. But those fuckers are certainly dead and not missed. Oh yeah. The day of the Tobias episode, I listened to everything from Opus Epin, do you take that over?

I'm tired to say those words there Latin. Opus eponymous and infestus summona. And fast to summon. And fast to s- and I'm stroking out. Infestus suman, is that what it is? Help! She's just lollling. Ma'am! Okay, I don't know about that.

No, listen to those albums. That I've just done a great job of selling hardcore ash. Rock on the next day. The rest of their discography, Jesus Christ, is all I listen to. And I've listened to them excessively ever since. Hell yeah. We are one. I'm so glad. I'm so glad I brought you back in.

Hell yeah. They're my go-to band at the moment. Hell yeah. Added bonus is that the guitarist is that as a guitarist, I get to learn these sick riffs as I familiarize myself with these songs. That's wicked awesome. I want to learn some sick riffs. Right in the air. Exactly. Yes. And I think that helps me grow as a musician. Of course. So I owe you both a huge thank you for not shutting up a book host. Honestly, that thank you's got to go all the way to LA. Because that's the thing ever.

And subsequently giving me another incredible band to listen to. I'm hoping their next tour brings them to Northern California so I can catch them in a concert. Best concert I've ever been to and ever will be to. I have to tell you that I was absolutely terrified to go to that concert because I'm not a hardcore girly. But I had fun. I had a lot of fun.

It was, they put on a fucking awesomely. But I had fun. I had lots of fun. They put on a fucking awesome show. And show. And even if one of your friends is a hardcore girly and you're not or hardcore guy, and they want you to go with them, you should go because you'll have fun. And during mummy dust, Tobias gets spicy. Yes.

And that does different things for different people. It does. It sure does. Maybe if I'm nice enough, nice enough, y'all will pull some strings for your boy and put Northcal in your best butt to buy his sister, all the while. I'll chat it up. Yeah, we'll do our best. I'll chat with him. Anyway, on the table of time, I was mown down, onto the table of time.

I was mown down. You keep saying table. Why am I saying table? On to the table of time. You know what it is. There's a bee underneath there and my brainulled. Oh my goodness. Why am I so table on to the table of time? There's a bee underneath there and my brain does that. That's okay. Anyway, onto the tail, not the table, of the time that I was mown down in a vehicle versus pedestrian hit and run. Oh, damn.

There's a big twist though to complain at that game, O'Lina. So strap it. I love you. I will give a trigger warning. I'll briefly touch on a rape and elder abuse. Fucked up people out there. Truly. While it is a quick mention, it's there, and the words alone can bother some. So if that's a groupie fall in, skip ahead to the next tale.

No judgment ever. I literally love you. You are the sweetest two men seriously. I literally want to be friends. Oh my God, seriously. My sophomore year of high school, February 20th, 2013, it's cold morning, and I've just begun my walk to school. It's a two mile walk, and I'm punctual, nearly to a fault.

Really? What's that feel like? So I'm leaving a full hour before school starts. So it's about 6.20am. Keep that time in mind. 6.20am. Okay. It's a cold morning, so I'm bundled in my new Minnesota Viking sweatshirt with my hood up,

breaking the chilling wind that otherwise would leave my cheeks rosy and chapped. I've rounded the corner of my street and golden gate-av. I pass the neighborhood park, which is a bit rundown and more so a homeless camp. I approach the factory that's just across the street from the park and glance over into their lot to admire the large crane trucks and boom lift that they have on their yard as I usually do. Of course, I'm a nerd for machinery. So is my youngest. I was just gonna say I'm giggling a little bit because it makes me think of my three-year-old

daughter exactly. She is a nerd for machinery as well. She'll be like, Titi, that's a Escovado. That's a front and loader. She knows all of them. I'll be like a sad reporter. She's like, no. She's like, that's an excavator.

She's like you. That's a crane truck, crazy woman. I'm taking a bit longer to look today since there's not a soul in sight. No traffic to be of any concern or so I thought. Oh no. And the blink of an eye and without hearing anything, I am struck, oh, struck from behind in the left leg and hip. Throne up onto the roof of a car.

My left side taking the impact directly as I fell back on the hood. I certainly was not prepared for any type of impact. My thumbs are hooked behind the straps of my backpack as they would be on any typical day. This meant that as I rolled off the side of the hood of the car, my hands were not free to break my fall. So I fall flat on my face, sliding down the ass,

fall-paved shoulder. I come to a rest and I pick myself up. No clear idea what just happened. I remained conscious through it all my God. But I never saw the car that did this. They were gone before I could even get up and turn to look around. My next step, I'm not necessarily proud of it, and my mom was certainly not a fan.

But it makes for a great story, so I'm glad it happened. Oh! As I dust myself off and rub my forehead, discovering the abrasion from a very unwelcome smooch from the basement, I don't know what I should do. But I do know that I'm not showing up to school a bloody mess with a nice tear in my otherwise brand new jacket. Oh my god.

So what do I do? Call an ambulance? Probably a smart idea. Call the police to report and hit and run. They've got the same number. brand new jacket. Oh my God. So what do I do? Call an ambulance? Probably a smart idea. Call the police to report and hit and run. They've got the same number. Let's do smart tasks in one call. They've got the same number.

What did I actually do? I called my mom. I get that. I mean, that's what I would do. I get that. Well, I wouldn't call my mom. I would have called my mom. Honestly, I probably would have called you.

I'd call you, I'd call you, I'd call you, I'd call you. Now, mind you, just as any kid my age was, I had a knack for playing hooky. Chronic stomach aches earned me plenty of days off at home. I quote unquote stomach aches. Yeah, quote unquote. At home playing Grand Theft Auto and Call of Duty until it was time to really play my role when my mom was about to get home from work.

Those were the days. Oh yeah. She worked two towns over, so I usually got a call when she was off and had plenty of time to cover my tracks. Plus, when I called her in the morning to tell her I was quote, unquote sick, it wasn't like she was gonna come home

and check on me, the dream. Though, now I'm sure she just humored me and let me think that it was the perfect crime over and over again. I'm sure she did. She was like, you know what, I got to work. She's like, I knew exactly what you were up to. So of course, when she picks up the phone,

she's gonna think I'm lying and tell me to go to school, right? Not this time. This time I tell her, I'm going home. I just got hit by a fucking car. I'm all bloody and torn up. I'm going home. Oh my God, I would have lost my mind.

I love that you're just like, I'm on my way home. I gotta go. I literally got lurched from a fucking car. So I'm gonna go home. I just got hit by a fucking car. She flipped. Yeah. She panicked, knowing that in my voice,

she heard the truth. I'm hazy, but conscious. Nevertheless, my mom is worried sick that I'm cut and might wander off thinking that I'm headed home. Oh, your mom is a mom. Your mom? She hangs up and calls it in. She can't give them my exact location

since I wasn't very clear about that. So she calls me back and tells me to call an ambulance myself so they can ping my phone. And to be sure that to tell them to take me to St. Joseph's Medical Center. I finally do that. And I take a leisurely seat on the curb at the intersection. Yeah. It's my date with a bumper. My irrational logical ask figured they needed an intersection as though there would be another bloody teenager roadside. Yeah, he's there. He never know. Yeah, they sure did. Remember that part about my mom working two towns over? Well, it's about a 20-ish minute drive on the highway,

factoring in the commuter traffic to and from the Bay area. The intersection I was picked up at was about a five to ten minute drive from the hospital that we were going to. My mom managed to pull into the ambulance and trace to the ER right behind the ambulance that took me there. That's some real mama bear turn Dale Earnhardt shit. Do you know who is that? He's a race car driver.

Oh, race chaser. That's where I'm at. I got checked in, go through all the good stuff, all the routine scans and vital checks, etc. After being told I could get up, I sat up after lying down for several hours and barfed up some nice bloody material. Oh.

Luckily, it was just an ingested blood for my sinuses running down my throat. Happens when your nose partially breaks your fall when your hands aren't there for you. Ouch, my nose hurts. Had a great time in the trauma center. 10 out of 10 would not recommend having gravel, oh, having a gravel-packed wound, deep-brided on your forehead.

Eek, that shit sucked. A gravel-packed wound, I can feel that. Oh, I know. I'd rather just, Eek, I'd rather shit in my hand and clap the goofy that again. I'm gonna use that. You're my favorite. The good part,

seriously, you were the best. The good part is that aside from the hematoma and abrasions on my forehead and left leg, the impact that left my roughly 200 pound ass flying through the air with the seam of my plant pants bowl in a heart. Left me virtually unscathed. Oh, good.

No internal injuries miraculously. Wow. Doctor told me that my size was my friend that day. He said that if I were to stout as I was, I'd likely be dead or seriously in church. Big reason I always say that body standards are horseshit. I've never had a normal BMI, and I've never been unhealthy because of my weight.

And in this case, my stature is what saved my life. Hell yeah, my friends. And that happened in our last case too. Yeah, boom. Or not our last case, but our last batch of listener tales. Yeah. Ready for that twist? Yeah.

The incident left me with a nice little two weeks off from school. That meant plenty of time for me to sit and wonder what cowardly sack of shit did this to me, and didn't even stop to see if I liver died. Yeah. After a few days, I see a news article which offered me some explanation. Ooh.

Let me briefly backtrack. The police I made my report with said that cameras on the factory I got hit in front of were decoys and that, uh, in that with no description, I was basically asked out on catching the guy. What the hell? On paper, that's where things end. But I can assure you there's more.

Ooh. Reminder of that trigger warning. On February 20th, 2013, at approximately 610am, not 620, 10 minutes before, familiar, a call was made to the police reporting a large commotion, including screaming from an elderly neighbor's home, you guessed it, golden gate out. It would turn out that a man in the neighborhood had just raped and murdered his elderly grandmother. Oh my God, what a fucking asshole. That's a sick individual. He took her lifeless body and left her in the backyard in a wheelbarrow.

He then stole her car and flood the scene. Police, of course, got to the scene and saw this disgusting scene and the missing car. They put out a bullow on the car and the man who lived there but wasn't nowhere to be found. They caught him within hours in the downtown area and how did they catch him? This motherfucker was joy riding in his grandmother's car and was apprehended after he had been intentionally running people over with the car. Keep in mind, this fucker left the house shortly after the initial call, just 10 minutes or so prior to me getting hit.

He left the house on the very street that I was walking on. I was heading south when I was hit. Where is downtown from the house he fled? Yup, south of the grandmother. Holy shit. Since I couldn't give a description, I wasn't able to ID anybody, but do the math, ladies. Yes. I know without a doubt that I was the second victim of the day Absolutely you were local PD and sheriffs wouldn't do the same two plus two on the one are you kidding me? That's ridiculous But I sure did and I find peace in knowing that whether my name is on his list of victims or not that bastard that hit me is Rauting in a prison cell good I often think about how cold you have to be to do that to a family member and then what goes through your head after that

That makes you steal a car and go on a spree running people over. Jesus. So yeah, that's the story about how I was mone down by a rapist and murderer on the way to school. If this makes the podcast, then just know that I am freaking out, likely at my desk when it drops. Oh my god, I love that. And if it did, then there's only one way to go out.

Yes. Thank you for taking the time to read my stories, lady. And here's your friendly reminder to keep it did, then there's only one way to go out. Yeah, thank you for taking the time to read my stories, lady, and here's your friendly reminder to keep it weird, but not to read that you're rapin' murder your grandmother, leave her in a will-bearer, and steal her car to go and run over a bunch of innocent people mining their own business. Definitely do not keep it that way.

No! P.S., I've included some photos of me. The day it happened, yeah you did. As well as some current photos of my mom, brother and I, I named the files to ensure you get the good ones last. The best picture is a bonus picture of my adorable nephew, Weston, West for short, named after the late great horror icon, West Creebid.

Shut up. That's an icon. That's fucking awesome. That's an icon. And an awesome fun fact about West is that his mom's first room in the maternity ward was room 1428, which is the address of the house on Elm Street, which was home to Wes Craven's beloved Freddy Krueger and later Nancy Thompson.

Why are you in your family so iconi-y list? That's fucking rad. If that wasn't meant to be, I don't know what it is. No. It also just so happens that the first major horror release after he was born was the newest screen movie. Oh my God, stop. The latest installment in the franchise

which Wes Craven created. You mean the radio silence one? Oh, that's. Oh my God, your baby nephew is so what? A story? What photos? What a family? Seriously.

I'm just screaming. My God, I cannot believe that you got yeeted by a car. And just we're like, yeah, I'm gonna go home. Yeah, my God. Look at this picture of you just standing on the road. It just went the thumbs up, just like, out. Oh my God, your mom is adorable. Oh my God, your face.

I love your family. I love your baby nephew and I'm obsessed with everything. And we love you. And we love you. I know. Oh my goodness. I'm really glad that all you got was a scrape, serious. I'm very happy about that.

My goodness gracious. I've been saying that so much this episode. You guys are, I don't even know. I don't even know. I don't even know. All right. Wow. OK, you're the best. You aren't. Holy shit. Why don't we read. I don't even know. I don't even know. All right. Wow.

Okay. You're the best. You aren't holy shit. Why don't we read one more? Yeah. Which one should I do? Maybe the time I survived being pulled over by a police impersonator? Yeah.

I think that's a good one. All right. Let's see. Hi, Ash and Elena. Here is my listener tale. I touched it to this email as a double space PDF. Hope dear it on the pod. And if not, that's okay too.

It's number one. Whenever you guys are like, it's okay if you don't, I'm like, you're so sweet. You guys are the best. Just wanted to say thank you ladies for the awesome advice and research done on these true crime tales.

Because I used your advice to save myself from a sticky and scary situation with a fake cop. Oh my gosh. I'm so glad you got out of that. So am I. Thanks. Thank you for listening. Oh my gosh. I'm so glad you got out of that. So am I. Thanks. Thank you for listening. Keep it weird.

It says, dear Ash and Alaina, my name is Tori. And you can use my name because it is morbid. It was because it was a part of me. I cannot read today. So please excuse me. We're always here to help each other out. Because it is because of morbid, I'm safe in writing this listener tale to you weirdos today. Now I just want to say because because it is. I know. It was fun to do.

Last September, I went on a whim to the second day of my favorite musical festival in Oakland, California. I went with a girl. There you go. I went with a girl I had met the day before and was practically riding solo the entire event. The festival was magical and my new friend and I were on cloud nine when we were left somewhere, when we left somewhere after 10 pm. She was going to either take Bart, Bay Area,

Rapid Transit, or a ride share back to her place in Dublin, California, and I offered to give her a ride home since I had my car. We chatted up a storm and shared stories about our day. The ride went smooth and we were having such a great time that when we arrived at her gated community, we sat outside of my old black Jeep compass, talking each other's ears off. Eventually, I glanced at the time and realized it was close to midnight, and I still had just over an hour to drive home.

We set our goodbyes and I watched her walk up to her condo and close the door behind her. With her safely inside, I texted my roommate, letting him know that I was on my way home and set off on my drive. Wow, you're a good person. You're sweet. I know. I'm not sure she's in there. Minutes after leaving the Steppford Esk community, I saw bright headlights behind my car. Odd. I thought since it was close to midnight on a Sunday, and I was in a sleepy neighborhood, there were no other cars or people were present.

The car was riding on my bumper and I couldn't make out the type. I kept my eyes on the bright headlights through my rearview mirror because I'm a true crime nut and my spidey senses were on edge as I waited at a solo red light. Oh, the worst.

The light turned green and my urge to put my foot on the gas and high-tail it out of the street was immense. I didn't act on it. Play it cool, play it cool. I thought to myself over and over again, still keeping a watchful eye on the car behind me. Moments later, the white light was flooded with blues and red.

But there was no sound accompanying it. It appeared that I was getting pulled over by a cop. Even though I was a little irritated, I pulled up to the curb right on my right and put the car in park. This cop had no reason to pull me over. My tags were up to date and I hadn't sped through the light. I made no turns so this cop couldn't be pulling me over

for a mundane reason such as not using my blinker while turning. Suddenly, another bright white light assaulted my eyes. And a male voice said, how are you doing this evening, Miss? I shielded my eyes from the light with my left hand and used the other to crack open the window slightly. Missed, you know why I pulled you over this evening? Can you please step out of the car? The male voice presumably a cop asked. The hair on the back of my neck was standing up on edge in a cold chill run over my body. I still couldn't see this man's face, so when

I glanced up in my rearview mirror, the car was still obscured by the headlights. Let me pause here to say that I am a true crime nut. I have listened to every episode of morbid crime junkie and countless other podcasts and TV shows. My brain was whirling. Seriously. As I said before, there was no reason that I should have been pulled over. It was also concerning that I couldn't see the car behind me

or the officer's face. And that he immediately asked you to step out of the car. Without thinking, I responded, no, sir, why am I being pulled over? Can I see some ID? I'm pissed, I'm pissed, I'm pissed, I'm fizz pumping for you right now. She is.

There was a moment of pause, and with his black mag light, he tapped on my window. I could see that his hand was white, but that was all I can make out. He ignored my request to see his badge and spoke again. Miss, rolled this window down and show me your license and registration. Then please get out of the car. You were driving erratically and I need you to take a field sobriety check.

No. He demanded. I swear I could hear the agitation and impatience in his voice. Miss, I can smell the alcohol on your breath. Get out of the vehicle now. No. His voice was now a hurrah. Everything this man was saying was a lie. I hadn't had anything to drink besides soda and water at the festival. And there were no drugs or weed in my system.

The only smell in my car was the remains of sweet berry nicotine vape smoke. My body tensed and a flood of morbid memories came rushing into my mind. The hillside stranglers pretended to be police. Ted Bundy did too. And I'm sure you ladies know countless other scumbags have all pretended to be police. It was easy enough to get a mag light off Amazon and probably just as easy to get some sort of police light attachment for a car. Which it shouldn't be. But why should it be not easy to get a police light for your car? Exactly. I refused to get out of the car or show this man any of my personal information. I would rather this man call for police backup, which has happened to me in the past

when I refused to sign for a ticket and another police matter, which I was where I was not cooperating. I could feel my fear and anger begin bubbling up. This man was still not making a point of it to keep his light in my face and obscuring his own. No, cops don't do that. And on the off chance, he was an actual cop, it still wasn't good that he wasn't letting me see what he looked like or what his badge number was. No, let me see your badge. I'm not getting out of the car.

I said back. I was trying my best to keep my voice hard, but not hysterically. I wasn't going to give this guy any ammunition to use against me to try to force his way into my car. All of a sudden the lights started to pull away. Miss, you're forcing me to call this into the station. When officers arrive, you will be removed from the vehicle and taken in for insubordination and DUI. He threatened. I said nothing back, although the slurs and angry speech in my head were swirling. The dark shape of his body was swallowed by the lights of his headlights, and I couldn't

see anything. I was frozen and kept my eyes glued to those headlights. Then, the vehicle behind me reversed away suddenly and peeled out down the street. What? My eyes were trying to adjust to the now only light source, which was the dim street light, so I could see what kind of car just drove away. But I knew in my gut that it was in a police car. I can't remember if it was from an episode of Morbid or my favorite murder, but I know that you could call the police station to confirm that there was a police presence in your area and confirm

if you had just spoken to an officer. And that is exactly what I did. Good. I called 911 and spoke to a dispatcher. I explained the encounter that just happened and she was eerily calm. She told me that there were no officers on duty in that area and that she was going to send two officers to my location to take my statement and do a wellness check on me. Oh, God. We stayed on the phone until the officers came and I was able to coordinate, corroborate that these were, that these were the ones the dispatcher had sent

and not some goons. I know that's the other thing that's been terrified. The verified police officers escorted me to the entrance of the freeway and I took off like a bat out of hell and didn't look back. I immediately called my roommate who was irritated that I wasn't home yet. He immediately softened when he heard my sob

so as I spewed out the story of what just happened. I got home without another incident, but I'm sure I was speeding the entire drive home. Yeah. Nothing ever came from that night and I received no follow-up from the double police on the matter either way. Jesus.

What the fuck? Non-true crime fans say that I'm morbid and weird for having such dark and seemingly useless information in my head. That's not useless. But I'm here to say that because I listen to you and others like you, I'm pretty sure I survived a run-in with somebody pretending to be a police.

You'll I agree. Thanks for being my favorite podcast and giving me the information I needed to get out of there as safely as possible. Keep up the fantastic work and always keep it weird. You are too, Tori. Because it saved your life. Holy shit, Tori. I'm really glad that you were that smart.

Me too. And that's the thing. Everybody always jokes that everybody has a true crime podcast, but look at it out here, saving people's lives. Save and live. Save and live. So, okay, making people paranoid,

that's what we do. Yeah, we keep it that weird baby. We do, but guys, holy shit. Yeah, this is a good batch of tails. And always lie like, my goodness, these were like, yeah, this is a good batch of tails. And always why, like, my goodness. We just, we were like, yeah. We have an endless batch of outrageous tails. I want like an endless batch of cookies.

Right? And tails, obviously. But you said batch and then I thought cookies and then I'm like, I'm not being able to eat while reading the tails. Yeah. Yeah, I like it. I like that.

Well, I was always guys. We love you so much and thanks for listening to our rambles and thanks for listening. And we hope you keep it. I like that. Well, I was always guys. We love you so much and thanks for listening to our rambles and thanks for listening and we hope you keep it weird. As weird as all the people in these tales because they were great and I love them. I love them too. Awesome. Guys, you never drew. We can't reach the thing to turn off the recording, but now I reached it. So bye.

Bye. I can't reach the thing to turn off the recording, but now I reached Free on Amazon Music. Download the Amazon Music app today, or you can listen Add Free with Wondery Plus and Apple podcasts. Before you go, tell us about yourself by completing a short survey at Wondery.com slash survey.