Morbid - Fan Favorite: The Unbelievable Survival Tale of Juliane Koepcke

Episode Date: December 23, 2024

This episode is a fan favorite that was originally published as Episode 476. We hope that you have a happy and safe holiday!Juliane Koepcke's story will have you questioning any recent complaint you've made. This woman was the sole survivor of a plane crash in 1971. After the plane went down, she continued to survive in the AMAZON RAINFOREST among hundreds and hundreds of predators. It took 11 days for her to be rescued and when you hear what Julianne faced within those 11 days, you will be a changed human.When I Fell From the Sky by Juliane KoepckeList of books to help with fear of flying OR just education on flying and flying mechanics!Cockpit Confidential by Patrick SmithSoar by Tom BunnThank you to the Incredible Dave White of Bring Me the Axe Podcast for research and Writing support!ReferencesBBC. 2012. Juliane Koepcke: How I survived a plane crash. March 24. Accessed November 30, 2022. https://www.bbc.com/news/magazine-17476615.1998. Wings of Hope. Directed by Werner Herzog. Performed by Juliane Koepcke.Koepcke, Juliane, and Beate Rygiert. 2011. When I Fell From the Sky: the True Story of One Woman's Miraculous Survival.Translated by Ross Benjamin. Green Bay, WI: TitleTown Publishing, LLC.New York Times. 1951. "Colombia Plane Crashes: 27 killed when Lansa Craft Falls." New York Times, March 22: 13.—. 1970. "Peru panel studies crash fatal to 99." New York Times, April 13: 2.—. 1971. "Plane Carrying 93 Missing Over the Mountains of Peru." New York Times, December 25: 20.United Press. 1948. "2 Britons Among 30 Dead In Colombian Air Crash." New York Times, December 16: 16.Wigg, Richard. 1972. "Girl's ordeal starts a jungle search." The Times, January 6: 5.Williams, Sally. 2012. "The woman who fell to earth." Daily Telegraph, March 17. Cowritten by Alaina Urquhart, Ash Kelley & Dave White (Since 10/2022)Produced & Edited by Mikie Sirois (Since 2023)Research by Dave White (Since 10/2022), Alaina Urquhart & Ash KelleyListener Correspondence & Collaboration by Debra LallyListener Tale Video Edited by Aidan McElman (Since 6/2025) Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.

Hey weirdos. I'm Elena. Hey weirdos. I'm Ash. This is morbid. We beached it up on you. We never will. Don't worry. What? But we just did. We just feel crazy. We're just having one of those days.

And we weren't even scheduled to record a listener tales today, but we were like, fuck yeah, we're going to record a listener tale episode. We said, do you know what we're in the mood for? We're in the mood for, listener tales. That's literally what we said. Actually, exactly what we said. Because whenever we're feeling in a kooky mood, it's listener Tales Baby. Y'all, I don't know what this is from. I feel like it's from a TikTok, but when I'm in a

silly, goofy mood, have you ever, I feel like I hear people say that these days. I don't know. I'm a silly goofy mood. What's that from? I hear you say that. Yeah, I got it. I didn't, it's not mine. Yeah, I got it. No, like, yeah, like I got it from someone else. It's not mine. Whoa. That's a big wav. That's a big wav on the recording thing there. Oh, well. On the audacity. Yeah, we're. We're quisi. We're quisi. So we're going to do a listener tales episodes, guys.

Nope, we're going to do one at listener tale episode. I said multiple. I don't know why. We're only doing one. I would have a sip of my coffee to wake it up here. Slurp on into that microphone. Oh, good job. I would never.

No. I would never do that to you. Someone would be so phonedia. I would never do that. I was going to say. So yeah, we're going to talk about listener tales. So let's go. All right.

I'm ready for this. Or should I go first? The first one says, yeated, so I'm going to pass this one to you. All right. So my first one is, the time I almost got yeated from the streets by the crossbow killer, a listener tale. Obviously, this is for ash. Wild. If it says yeat, it's for me. So this person, Helen, says, Hi, lovely lady faces. I'm Helen and you can use my real name. First of all, I want to tell you how much I fecking love you, curls. You make driving, gardening, painting, and just living my

damn life a little bit better. It really feels like hanging out with my weirdo buddies and, oh, My God, Elena, you wrote a book! You did. I love you. Oves I've got in pre-order. Attached. Thank you. Is my story about the time I escaped being kidnapped by a man.

I later recognized as the crossbow killer. And you covered that case. I did. That case is. This is wild. Horrific. So it all starts in 2005. In 2005, I was a 23-year-old, newly qualified nurse living in a quaint little village near Wakefield in the UK.

It was just before I passed my driving test. and so I got on the bus to town every day. It was 6 a.m. and still dark on a cold, wet November morning. The bus stop was about 10 minutes from my house and on a long road at a stretch with not many houses on it and just a grassy area across from it, just off from my housing estate. Staring up at the road longing for the bus to come, I saw a car driving down toward me. It slowed as it got to me and the man started opening his window. I assumed he was going to ask for directions, but he just stared at me and very slowly.

drove off. Ew. Hate that so much. I was creeped out. Excuse me. I was creeped right out. I was creeped out. I was creeped out.

I was creeped right out and hoped that was that was that. You can do it. That was a lot. I have faith in you. I was creeped right out and hoped that was just a weirdo being weird. But to my horror, he pulled into a lay by about 200 yards down from me and turned the car around. No, I can't even imagine.

Panic started filling my chest as he drove toward me again, slowly slowing down to do the same thing. He stared right at me with a menacing, hungry look in his eyes. Full-blown panic set in at this point. I willed the bus to hurry up, but it was running late. And as if I couldn't feel any more terrified, about 100 yards from me, he did the same thing. Turned his car around and drove back down the hill, staring coldly through the open window. I'm like freaking out right now. I have goosebumps right now. I felt as though I was being circled and stalked by a shark about to attack. By the third time he circled around, never looking at the road, just watching me with deep menacing eyes and a dark smile creeping onto his face. I knew I had to get away. The bus didn't seem like it was coming, so I had to run. But where to go? If I ran toward home, he'd catch me before I even made the dark sleepy housing estate. I had images of being pulled into a car before my screams even hit the ears of the the sleeping residence. In the distance, up the hill was a shop. I could see some lights on,

but couldn't be sure if it was actually open, but there was nothing else. No where to run, nowhere to hide, no one to save me. My trusty flip phone. Oh, man, that I only had to charge every week or so. Ah, the good old days was dead. I feel that so, so hard. It was at least 150 yards away, and he, yep, I said that right. He got it. And he would probably be able to catch me. before I got to the shop, but I had to try. I watched him circle me again, watching me. It was the fifth time he'd done this now. I knew he was scoping the area looking for anyone that could see me,

just as I was looking for anyone to save me. No one around. The sun wasn't up. He could easily take me and no one would know. I had to choose run home or run to the shop in the distance and pray it's open. I chose the shop thinking it's the best of two shitty options. I probably would have two. Well, at least there's a light on there.

And that way he doesn't know where you live. Exactly. Or even what direction you live in? Like he can't like find you again. I waited until he just passed me again so that he would have to take a minute to turn and then I bolted faster than I've ever ran in my life. I didn't look back. I just ran with a full fear of a child that feels the boogeyman clasping their legs just behind. Oh, so freaky.

Rain and ice cold wind blowing on my face. The shop was open. Yes. Oh, the fecking relief. I love fecking. Fecking. That's so great. I flung into the shop, ran to the counter, and at a high speed, blurted out what just happened.

When I saw the shopkeeper in his look of concern, I knew that I'd made it to safety. He told me to stay put while he looked outside. As he came back in, I saw him lock the door and ask if the car the man was in was a silver van. It was. I had long enough to watch my predator and taken in what he looked like and the car he drove. He was waiting outside. What the fuck? He is so persistent.

as ballsy. The shopkeeper called his wife, who was in the back, told her the story and asked her to keep the doors locked until he got back. He offered to drive me home, but no one would be in, and I was already late for work. Knowing matron would be highly pissed, he offered to drive me to work. He got into his car, dressed outside the shop, and I had to pass the man in his silver van. He stared at me, rage and darkness all over his face. His catch had gotten away. Oh, my God. Oh, it's so creepy. I'm so happy that you. I'm so happy that you. I'm so happy that you. you like had the wherewithal to like look around. Seriously. Gather your surroundings and run. That's the thing just to be able to like recognize what was around you. Right.

Be able to make any kind of plan because I think I would have just crumpled into a ball. Seriously. And to be able to run that fast. Yeah. My God. At that point, he sped off into the night. On the way, the kindly shopkeeper handed me his phone and told me to call the police. I recounted my terrible story and finished just as I got to the hospital ready to be scolded for being late. I couldn't thank the shopkeeper enough. and shakily walk onto my yard, onto my ward, excuse me. It's an incident that still makes me shiver to this day. I knew that I had found safety.

That if, had I not found safety, I knew that had I not found safety, I would have been dead by now. I felt it in my bones. I just had the closest call of my life and it shaped the way I've been ever since. Always on high alert when in the streets. Being warily of stranger danger is something I've passed on to my daughters. My eldest would say to a fault, as they're also now highly wary of possible boogeymen at every corner. Honestly, they got to be.

That's the thing. In this world. You're doing the right thing. It's a scary-ass world. Two years after this, I was watching the news when something came on that had me frozen. I sprang through my bones as I watched the story of the crossbow killer being arrested for the murder of three young women. I knew that face so well. Those eyes are burned in my brain forever.

It was the man in the silver van. Never more than that moment was I sure I cheated death. I cannot fathom watching the news and seeing a man that I had escaped from now being charged as a serial killer. Just to know that you were that close to that man. You survived. Like you escaped. That monster of a human. Truly unreal.

Truly. Like very much unreal. Helen, I am so glad that you did what you did, that you were as, smart as you were and as quick thing as you were. I'm so happy about that kindly shopkeeper. I know. Every story should have a kindly shopkeeper. It just like makes you feel a comfort right away. And it makes sense. It's just like the UK. When she said she was in the UK, I was like, yeah, there's a kindly shopkeeper. Somewhere. That makes sense. Like I see that for you. I love that. I love that. I'm glad you had it. I'm going to drive you to work. Yeah. Here's my phone.

Nice person. There's nice people in the world. Man, Helen, thank you for that. I'm stressed now. Hoof. All right, let's go on to the next one, which is called ghost ponchos and spinal cords. Have you opened the Google Doc? I have not yet. Oh my God, you're in for a treat. All right, so hold on it says, hi, my lovelies. You can use my name, Hannah, for me if you decide to read this on an episode. So this is Hannah. Yeah. Why are you laughing? I've attached to double space put a for your convenience. I love you. I am by no means a writer, and there are definitely some errors. So feel free to edit for clarity. Thank you both for always being a shining ray of hope in my life. And please don't ever stop being your amazing and uplifting selves.

Oh my goodness. I won't. Hannah. Hannah. I love you. Who's really sweet. You're kind. Thank you.

Is you open it now? The header just says, nope, nope, nope, nope, nope. And it's like all space like left, right center. This is amazing. It says April 20th, 2000, 2020, human of morbid. One, two, three, fuck right out of their boulevard. Nope town, nope, Bama. But can we talk about the fact that you said 2000, 2020?

Did I say that? Guys, the year is 2020. Can you imagine? I mean, I'd be like so far in the future. I mean, it's, it makes sense in some corner of my brain. It makes sense right now. She's literally just going, I mean, I mean, I mean. And just like smiling weirdly.

It's a flat circle. We made it up. So maybe it is 20. What did I say? 2020, I think. 2002. You're wild. For the reason, even that feels wrong.

It doesn't sound right. 2020. 2020. Even that sounds wrong. That's right, though. It's all correct. You're making the question all of these now. It's 2005.

All right. So we're going to stop. To whomst ever lovely morbid human sees this. It's us. It's all of us over here. It's us. Hello. Thank you so much for reading my tale.

I've struggled with sharing this to anyone, at my brother for a long time. My husband doesn't even know, as I'm still not sure what it is exactly, and to be fucking honest, it scares the shit out of me to this day. Oh, man. I only decided to write this after I finally got the courage to listen to the Black Eyed Children episode. That was with Tyler. Oh, I miss Tyler. We got to have Tyler. He has his own podcast now. We should have him back on. Oh, my God. We have to. I miss Tyler. I loved him. So yeah, I got the courage to listen to the Black Eyed Children episode after some kind of balls to the wall, face it heads-on moment. I love that for past in therapy me, but now I have more anxiety.

My name is Hannah. I'm sorry, you were about to say your real name and I didn't want to say it. I was like, it is Hannah. It is Hannah. So we can use Jared for her brother's name. And it says, if this ever Grace is a listener tale episode. It did. It did.

I went ahead and used the fake name and the story. Thank you because as you can see, that would have been hard for me. Yeah, you know, it would have been hard for me today. Words. You know, it's hard. So to start, I grew up in a very sheltered, as a very sheltered church kid with my brother in a rural area of my state. Church every Wednesday. Oh, that's new.

Church every Wednesday. I think that some people do that. Oh, I also think that. Yeah. And that's been religion with us. We're both just like, I think people do that. I think church on Wednesdays is a thing. Hey, I hope that sounds great.

And Sunday nights with Bible school on Saturdays. Whoa, that's a lot. The whole Jesus staring at you from the bathroom wall in your grandma's house while you wipe your butt at warp speed, hoping this isn't where I'm going to be when he comes back committing the sin of personal hygiene kind of church kid. Whoa. Personal hygiene is a sin? Is that like committing the sin of personal hygiene? Is that a sin?

Like, is that some kind of sin wiping your butt? No. It can't. Can we pause? I'm going to Google it. Like, where you go go go this really quick? So we looked it up. We got some answers.

Yeah. I don't think it's a sin. A person. I mean, I don't, I don't, yeah, no. We're stepping into territory we don't belong in. We are not religious, so I have no idea what that means. But I'm interested to know because then there's that whole, that phrase that's like, cleanliness is next to godliness.

Yeah. So maybe that's why it's a sin because then godliness is like, you can't be God. Right. Is that what that is? Yeah. It's like a sin to act like you're like godly because you're not God. You are not. You are not.

You can not sit with God. You can not. You know? Yeah. No, I don't know. I'm going to be honest. I don't. I'm not going to pretend I do.

I mean, I don't know. But this is interesting. Yeah, exactly. I don't, I mean, we're getting a lot out of this one part of the story. That's a very small part. And I'm sure this has like absolutely nothing to do with the story. But that was just like very shocking. So Hannah, thank you for introducing.

us to this because I had no idea. Hannah's going to email us and be like, y'all, that was like just that was not part of the story. It was just silly, silly, silly, ha ha. I was just making a joke. But Hannah, you know, we just want to get to know you better. That's all. It's like Teresa. What does she say? Like, a silly, funny, laugh, ha ha. Precisely. Yeah. I think that's what she says. So Hannah says, the kind of church kid that naively believe the world in my life would be like one of those Disney movies where the mom isn't murdered by a shotgun. And you, your sea witch of an auntie doesn't try to steal your man's and take over the whole ass ocean. What?

What? What? Is your aunt Ursula? What? I told you, we have not read these. Now to the story. What? Let's go.

It's not a loop of what. My brother Jared has had horrible asthma ever since he was born. That's really tough. The dope inhaled his own shit as a baby. coming down the shoot and honestly what a dumb baby. Hannah. Coming down the shoot. What a dumb baby.

And it says, I love my brother, but siblings, you get it. We do. We do. I did not inhale my own shit coming down the shoot. Neither did I. But, you know, it was a smart baby. In 1992, when my dumb, even as a baby brother, was about five and I was three, our grandpa had just passed away.

I'm sorry. It was pandemon. at our grandma's house with planning the services and a fuck ton actual scientific measure unit of measure of people in and out all day because it's the deep south and when someone dies their family needs six pans of tater tot casserole bitch i need six pans of tater tot casserole even if somebody is still alive so jared had not been feeling well the entire day and since all the commotion of the aforementioned comings and goings of the bubbling casseroles from beehived quaffed old bitties the normal signs my mom would have caught about an oncoming

asthma attack went unnoticed. Until he was at the point, he needed to be rushed to the hospital in an ambulance. Oh, my goodness. Oh, and like amidst all that chaos too and like that, oh, that must have been tough. That made me had to take a deep breath. Me too. He was in the ICU on the sharp edge of living or dying for three days. Wow. He eventually and very luckily, it seems, came through and back to the living and came home after about a week. Thank goodness. Thank goodness, Jared. Despite the loss of our grandpa, life went back to normal. Until that is, the nightmare started when I was four. They were so vivid that I can still remember the first one, even being a soft frontal lobed four-year-old. Little straight-laced, afraid to wipe too long church kit. There it is again, Hannah. There it is again.

See, you put it in there for us to look it up. I know it. But we still have no answers. But, you know, that sucks. Don't, yeah. Wipe as long as you mean. You got hygiene. Or get it. Get a bidet. Then you don't have to wipe it. Oh, there you go. And your booty hole will be a pristine. I mean, it will. It's amazing the turn that this has taken. That's why I read the ads. Exactly. Can we get an ad for badez? For badees. A little straight lace, afraid to wipe too long church kid me, having the same horror-inducing nightmares. The other being, ooh, the other being about a decapitated man's bloody head on a hook on the other side of my closet door,

begging me in a sing-songy woman's voice to let them out or they'd eat my heart. He ate my heart. Complete with spinal cord and sinew sticking out of the bottom of his bloody stump with a fixed look of terror on his face. Also sleep paralysis demons, because why not? What joy my nappy naps was.

Oh my God, you are five. Oh, no, four. Four. If I had that nightmare now, I would be Dunsky. I have a nightmare now, and I wake up, like, I wake up, like, so angry when I have a nightmare because I'm like, I don't want to be scared right now. That, that, what she just described, if I saw that, the nightmare now at the age of 36, I would be Nancy from Nightmare on Elm Streeting it, never going to sleep again.

Straight up. Red Bull, I would buy stock in Red Bull. I would need those pills from Freddie versus Jason that make it so you don't dream anymore. Amazing. You just go in a dreamless state. Right? Wow. Wow.

Damn. Wow. This happened for years. Over a decade, in fact, of me thinking that I was the Antichrist for having these nightmares in waiting to explode every time I walked into church. I hate that hurts my heart. Yeah, that hurts my heart that you were thinking it was like your fault or something. I want to hug you.

I do too. I couldn't tell our dad because he could never be bothered with a. emotions. Oh, man. I need to hug little you. I need to get four-year-old you. I want you to hug yourself. Like, I want you to hug little you. Oh, man. And our mom was throwing herself into the same bottle her brother had died in. You're going to make me cry, dude. Oh, my goodness. Four-year-old you, I just want to hug you. That's so sad. You, that, oh, that just like really is breaking my heart. Until after school one day, since there was shit else to do at 15 or 17 with your house in the middle of an abandoned cord field, 20 miles from town with checked out parents. We were sitting on the back porch

looking into spine woods, trying to scare each other into seeing something. You don't need to. Spine Woods. You're seeing something. Girl, you need to read the parenthesis. The fuck is it called spine woods. She about to tell you. We called it that because once our lab brought back the freshly departed from its owner, spine of a cow, and there was no cattle fields for miles. What if it wasn't a cow? I'm... Anyway. Oh, my God.

When it was Jared's turn, he suddenly went stiff, staring into the blackness just beyond the tree line. He wouldn't look my direction. He just blankly stared at his memories coming back to him. Asked me if I remembered anything about the time he had almost died in the hospital. Oh. You know, it's scary, though. My, you know, one of my twins who was in the hospital, you know, a couple of years ago, you were all, a lot of you were there for it. Yeah. Um, she brings it up like all the time.

Well, like remembers every second of it. And she very much almost died. And she was barely for. Yeah. And she was like wild. It's what they hang on to. And she literally almost died. Yeah. So that's really scary. Now, apparently Jared had recently had a conversation with our mom, one of her lucid times, about the circumstances of his hospital stay as he had questions. Hmm. She told him that he crashed one night and the doctors were, fighting to bring him back, and they lost him for almost a full minute. Oh, wow. He then told me his version of that night. Jared had described that he woke up in a dark blue, hazy version of his hospital room, empty only except for his bed, a set of black, blank windows, the walls

covered in mirrors, and himself sitting straight up in his bed with no tubes or wires, except he wasn't alone. Sitting opposite on the foot of his bed was a copy of himself, floating unsettling, still just staring at him. What the fuck? He looked like someone sitting on the bottom of a pool cross-legged and otherworldly, infinitely doubled with all the mirrors on every wall. The way that every single hair on the back of my neck, it just stood at attention. This was not an exact copy of the dopy baby who swallowed his own poop and gave himself asthma.

I needed that. No friends. This was an exact copy of my brother that was almost completely translucent white with no fucking eyes. He only had deep inky black holes where his hazel eyes should have been under his curly jet black hair. Harry Potter vibes. The ghost Jared was dressed in what I can only relate to as a gray ripped poncho that looked like it was falling deep into the ocean never to be seen by humans ever again. Which you know, honestly good for the scary ghost Jared. That was a choice.

And he went with it. You're perfect. You're beautiful. You look like Linda Evangelista. You have to say, you're perfect. You're beautiful. You look like Linda Evangelista. This is amazing. I love it. Jared asked the copy what he wanted, and all it would do was wave a slow, watery, beckoning wave, motioning for them to switch places.

He said although he was terrified, all he could do was inch closer and closer. He was transfixed on those empty obsidian eyes. I am wrapping myself so tightly with a blanket right now because I am so scared. Those eyes that were vast voids of terror, reeling him in like a fish on a hook. At the time, he couldn't describe the feeling, but since he was older, he said the feeling was like you're sitting in a roller coaster at the top waiting to be dropped. And your stomach promptly exits your asshole. His words, not mine. Then it happened.

A large burst of light came crashing from the black barren windows in his hotel room and smelled like cigarette smoke. Musk and a deep rumbling V8 that's always somehow needed work. a distinct and unmistakable smell our grandpa had. Oh! He had never seen something so scary, looks so terrified. It was gone. And they brought my brother back at the same time.

Wow. I mean, same because who wouldn't be scared of a ghosty World War II combat vet in full-on Papa Bear mode. This is the coolest, scariest story I've ever heard. I love that his grandpa came and was like, get the fuck out of here, you black-eyed little shit. He was just like, nope.

My grandson is not going to switch places with your ass. At this point in the story, I'm sobbing, full on ugly crying. Not quite like Tyra and A&M, but you get it. This was my nightmare. Every detail and every feeling. Every thought and even smell was the nightmare I had for the majority of my life at this point. I never kept a diary or told anyone.

And like we all know our parents weren't the type to confide in. So how would my brother know the exact details? That really hurts my heart that your parents weren't the type to confide. I know. That really hurts my heart. I actually really felt so heavily though. No, and I'm so sorry. All I do know is that on the night my brother crash and he almost got snatched into demonic oblivion, our mom told Jared that my little delicate ass clutched my pearls from the stress of it all and passed out in the ICU hallway. Wow. What is scarier than a bad dream? Reliving a terrifying memory you didn't know you had. That's right. I had slipped into the haunted precipice of the veil right along with my brother. Further compounding my sanity was the fact that in my nightmare I was never the one on the bed.

I was standing next to it watching it happen, waiting for the roller coaster to fall, watching those eyes reel him in. I still don't know how to explain this happening to both of us. I still can't look at Jared's pictures when he was that age without directly looking at the black-eyed ghosts, hungry to take. I'm also no longer religious so I can take all the time I want to wipe with reckless abandon. I love you both. Hannah. I am obsessed with this story.

I think this is one of the best listener tales that we've, ever received. The most, I'm not kidding you, I kept getting those full rolling chills all over my body. My goosebumps were vibrating. I kept getting them. I'm still getting them. My whole body was warm, it's still warm. Like, the fuck. And also, brilliantly told, like, incredibly so. Brilliantly told, Hannah. Can I just say, I'm so happy that you had your brother through all of that. I am too. I'm happy that you guys had each other and that you were like close and you just wrote in there i am by no means a writer you're like i'm sorry to be the one to tell you here you're a fucking writer that was beautifully told and that's kind of that you slipped into the precipice of the veil right alongside

your but like oh i got chills just saying that out loud like girl there's the fact that like you were watching that all happen i i'm still stuck on the decapitated head hung on the other side of the closet, spinal cordonol, singing in a woman's voice for you to take him. Bye. I feel like, I'm evicting you. I can't even finish that. Like that, I'm picturing it in my head. I'm freaked out. I'm picturing one drawing by Stephen Gamble in the real, in the real scary stories to tell him the dark books. And I'm picturing that head sitting on, and it's freaking me out. I don't like it. Wow. I did not see that coming. Neither did I. I didn't feel it coming. It didn't smell it coming, and you just, wow. It just happened. And give us all this, all these thoughts about

like wiping your ass being a sin and how we had no idea. I feel like I'm just like going to take so long to wipe my ass the next time I have to do so. Just like, just because I can't. I never thought about it. No, me either. I never thought about how long I had to wipe my ass. Yeah, no me either. But you've given me that. I don't know if I want that. You've given me that thought. I don't know for that I am thankful because I like to know all different thoughts all different butt wiping methods I had no idea if people thought that now I do so that's a that's a little nugget I got all right that I can break out at a party someday I wouldn't personally break that out at a party who knows read the room I will I'll read it okay if the time is right you drop that nugget you said I'll read it and

weep bitch Hannah thank you for that unreal that was something on freaking real that is just bananas. Bananas. All right. My next one is called, I was listening to Morbid and a guy was chasing me with a teaky torch. I'm in. You hooked me in. And then at the first line, yes, you read that right. I'm glad I did. This is a tale about how I was chased by a man who was wielding a metal teaky torch while I was listening to your podcast. Oh my God. A little bit of background for you. Thank you. My name is Sam. Yeah, you can use my name. Hey, Sam. Hey Sam. And I have been an avid listener for a couple years now. In fact, my husband asks me from time to time when we hop in the car,

or if I'm making dinner, who got murdered now? I love these kind of story. I do too, because I always tune into the show whenever I'm in the car, cooking dinner, hey, hello fresh. Hell yeah. I'm mowing the lawn, gardening, walking the dog, or out for a run like I was when this scary incident took place. Side note, I am one of those weirdos who loves to run. Running makes me happy. It provides a sense of calm to my anxious brain, and I have been running long distance for years. 17 half marathons and three full marathons under my belt. Sam. I recently started running and I don't understand you as a human, but I have immense respect

for you. I actually love running. I like it. It calms me as well. So I totally understand the thought process here. Oh, I get the thought process. So I like, I'm actually enjoying it like when my shins don't feel like they are shattering within my legs.

I know. That's crazy. They have like crazy shins. They get so bad. Yeah. And I'm afraid I'm going to like fracture my freaking. femur. But I got compression socks. Oh, there you go. And I'm going to go to a store where they measure your gate. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Anyway, Sam lives in Brooklyn, Park, Minnesota. Yep. Yep. I'm really bad at

abbreviations. The summer outside of Minneapolis. And, oh, see, I should have. That would help. And my home is adjacent to a nature preserve that has regional walking, biking paths coursing through it. I, an avid runner, use these trails on a daily basis. I've seen some interesting things out on these trails, including a man pleasuring himself in the woods, Matthew Hoffman. Oh my. Yikes. A man on a heroin drip, that's evidently what it's called. A hatchet wielding transient who introduced himself as Kyle. What the fuck? I love that. A hatchet wielding transient just said, hey, I'm Kyle. Hey, I'm Kyle. Did you say, what the fuck is up, Kyle? I was just thinking that. And most recently, a man who decided to use a metal tiki torch as a sword. Wow. If you want, I can send you some more of these

great stories and another message. Yes, please. We always want. Send. Not that people need more reasons to opt to stay home and not go for a run, but dang, some of the stuff I experienced out on the trail sure does give me the creep sometimes. Sam, please send those immediately. I will be waiting. Thank you. All of those instances are the exact reason why treadmills were invented. And the exact reason why listener tales were invented, so please send those. Please send them. I want them. Now, most days, my runs are uneventful and downright peaceful. But this past Monday, I was out for a chilly run and I was listening to your episode 313, The Unsolved Murder of Bonnie Lee Baker.

Hey. The great episode, if I do say so myself. I was at mile two and a half out of three and my dog and I were really ready to get home and rehydrate. Hello, Liquid Ivy. I see you over there waiting for me. Hell yeah. We love a Liquid Ivy.

I like truly love Liquid Ivy. No, I really do. I will not work out without it. Nor will I. This is not an ad. Not an ad. It'd be funny if we had a liquid idea here. As I was coming around to bend, I saw a man walking toward me on a trail.

For reference, this is a paved trail. And while these trails do went through the, or wind to think, wind through the heavily wooded areas, the location where this incident occurred was along a neighborhood street. So there were houses to one side and woods and a swamp to the other. So here I am, running along, listening to the musical lilt of your voices, relaxing me, relaxing my way through my workout. And this individual, dressed head to toe and camo, is approaching me. No.

I'm out. Nope. The closer I get to him, the more I notice that his gate was odd. Oh, gate! It's so funny, gate. He was weaving a bit and waving something out in front of him. I realized that is a metal tiki torch. You know, like the one that you stake into the ground around your patio.

He's got it out in front of him, like a sword, and is swinging it back and forth. Then he makes eye contact with me and smiles. I'm very disturbed by all of this. He then changed his walk to an odd run and began running at me and my dog. Side note, my dog is a four-year-old Samoyed, you know, the big white, fluffy cloud boy you see on the internet with silly smiles and rated the worst guard dogs ever because of their friendly dispositions. Absolutely no help in this situation and he wanted to run away faster than me.

He's like, bye, Mom. He's like, that was fun. And at this point, the dog and I are a little shocked. Just say the least. just a little bit. And then we're really shocked. Yeah. We book it off the trail onto the road and we start hauling ass to get away from this guy. And I mean, we are hoofing it. I mean, it was the real moment in life when fight or flight kicks in. And my brain and body said, we choose flight. Yeah, you probably should. You did not have a tiki torch to come at him with back. Exactly. So you're

unarmed here. You got a flight. Yeah, you got to. You got a book JetBlue or something, girl. Get out of there. I am trying to simultaneously. I simultaneously look over my shoulder for him, not trip over my dog, and find a place to get to for safety. All I could think while I was running was go, go, go, go, go, go, go, go, go, go, go, go, go, go, go, go, go, go, go, go. A few hundred yards into the chase, an elderly couple out for a walk comes around another bend in the trail, and the whack job behind me sees them and fears off into a yard. Can you imagine if this guy just, like, dipped into your yard? And, like, wielding a giant metal tiki torch in camo? And dressed head to toe in camo.

What? He ran up to a bay window of a nearby home. and pretended to be looking around inside the house? Again, imagine that. I yelled at the couple that this guy was chasing me, and the panic I felt flooding my veins, kept my feet moving forward, and the dog and I raced home.

Remember, I'm less than a quarter mile from my home at this point, and there's no damn way I was stopping. No damn way. You just like blew by that elderly couple. They were just like, what? She's like, this man is chasing me. You're like, what, dear? Did you hear that, Ethel?

What did she say? What she saying? Jason? This man's name is Jason. What? Cammo? Oh, Tiki Drodches. I was going to get some of those at Lowe's.

He sounded like Papa. I always like, you always go into Papa though. I was going to say. I love it. I make it home looking over my shoulder every 2.2 seconds. Get in the front door and lock it. Your voices are still echoing in my ears. But sorry, ladies.

I had stopped listening to what you were saying. That's okay. That's fine. I forgive you. At this point, shock kicks in. I'm breathing hard. I wander slowly and panting to my husband's office and I tell him, Hun, I don't want our kids walking on the trails by themselves ever.

Why? he asks and turns to me to ask what's wrong. I fill him in and he stares at me for a second and then shouts, Sam, call the police. I was going to say. I love that he's like, ma'am, what are you doing here? You got to call the po. So still, you've got to call the poe. Not the po-poe, just the poe.

No, just the poe. So still, in some very strange shock, I call the knob. on emergency line because for whatever reason, my brain doesn't think that I'm in an actual emergency. I started to explain to the officer what happened, and I got to the part where a man started chasing me with a tiki torch, and she interrupts to say, ma'am, I'm putting you through to dispatch. This does count as an emergency. I love how everyone's like, ma'am, literally. My brain went, oh, oh, shit. And I had to explain again to an officer what happened. They took my name and number and sent a unit to the location.

I haven't heard anything since. It took a couple of days, but I finally got around to finishing the episode on Bonnie Lee, and I figured y'all would want to hear this. We did. I very much did. Anywho, I'm okay. I'm going to go for a run later today, but don't worry, I got some mace now. Can I just say how?

Hell. Can I just say hale? Can I just see how? Angry I am, that folks out there in the wild are ruining my good and happy running feelings, and now I have to carry mace because people think it's okay to try and attack others for no good reason. It's really not fair. It's really not. It's not. It's the unfairest of all. Keep it weird, ladies. And congrats on Butcher and the rent Elena. Thank you, girl. And on your pending nuptials, Ash. Oh, my God, I'm so excited to get married.

When? What? Do you say when? Like, you don't know? I said win. Oh, I was like, October 20th. You're the maid of honor, asshole. You should know this. All right. So yes, I do know at the date of Ash's wedding. Better. I do indeed. I was. saying when, when? Yeah, yeah. But do you see how that sounds like when? No.

When. All right. So my next one is, you've got tails in the FBI. Nope, you've got friends in the FBI. I was like, that's not what that says. You got heads or you got tails. It says, hi, Ash and Elena, attached as a PDF of my listener tale. Thanks so much if you ever get around to it.

Yay. We're around to it. Here we are. Here we are. We got around. Hi, Ash and Elena. I can't believe that I'm finally getting the chance to write to you. I've always wanted to send you all a listener tale, but I never had a reason to until this very unfortunate week.

Oh no. I'm sorry that that had to happen. Yeah. At least getting the chance to send you all this tale adds a bit of silliness to finals week. Oh. I never made it that far. In order not to make this email too long, I'm going to limit how much I'm internally gushing over you guys. insert speechlessness and butterflies here.

You're adorable. Oh, I love you. Okay, now to what we're all here for. I'd rather you didn't use my real name. So feel free to use my middle name, Sybil. Oh, that's really cute. That's a pretty name. I'm a 22-year-old African-American woman from Virginia,

but now I live just outside of Cambridge. Hey. Oh, hello. Where I'm a PhD student studying anti-black violence in the United States at, you guessed it, have it. Pause for the effect of the gene. to go through. What the fuck. That's amazing. Damn. Get it. I still can't believe I'm actually here. Who would have thought that a girl born beneath the poverty line and whose great grandfather, an

illiterate descendant of slaves, would manage to get a full scholarship at Harvard University? Fuck yes. Fuck yes. Sibble. I am so proud of you. Get it. That's like that's fucking key. Like to go to Harvard? No, that's just to be able to say that. Like one of my friends got waitlisted at Harvard and I literally was like, you should frame that and hang it somewhere. I was going to say I'd hang up the wait list. I literally told her to him. No, that's amazing. You should be fucking proud of yourself and you should pat yourself on the back every gosh darn day. Every gosh darn minute. You're killing it. But anyways, another thing about me is that even before I moved to Massachusetts in the middle of a pandemic as an undergraduate student at Georgetown. Okay. Okay, Sybil.

You're smart. Wow. I spent a few summers in two academic years interning for the FBI as a an honors intern in some of their more classified locations. Sybil, can we hang out? That's really cool. Sybil, you're right in Cambridge. Can we hang out? You should have had us call you Clarice. Clarice. Oh, it's true. Agent Starling over here. Oh my God. I'm talking about getting off the metro being shuttled to our campus and seeing a, quote, show of force at the entrance, which included swat cars and four to six men with huge guns. To be honest, I thought, quote,

did something happen? Should we all just go back home and try this whole work thing again tomorrow? But no, it's just to keep inquisitive people from getting too curious and confident and trying to see what's behind all the trees in the winding driveway. It was all pretty cool. I got to dispose of drugs, go out on searches, and right before COVID hit, I was offered a job at headquarters that I turned down once I got accepted to graduate school. Whoa. You are the most impressive person. I just want you to know this. That is so fucking cool. You're such a job. badass. And the fact, like, you get to save the rest of your life that you turn down a job at the FBI headquarters. Like, who are you? To go to Harvard for graduate school. Sorry, I'm on my way to Harvard,

so God, you're a badass. I'll get back to you. Even though it's frowned upon, because I guess grad school is supposed to be like, hard or something. Yes, Elwoods. I told the Bureau that I'd rather continue as an intern at our Boston office while I went to school and conducted my research. So now you can catch me at the FBI, the F-I-B-I-B-I for a few hours every week, kicking ass, taking names, and filing a shit ton of paperwork. Oh, and you will always find the people in our office talking about Mormon. I'm talking hours-long conversations with special agents, Intel analysts, analysts. Annalysts. Fock. Analysts. I can't say the word. I'm so excited. At least you didn't say analysts. You almost did. Guys, that's really cool that you guys. That's really cool.

Like, do you guys actually watch us on our phones, though? Oh, my God. Do you see me pooping? Do you see me? Scrolling through the ground? Oh, you've got a cult following here. And my intern buddies and other offices around the country say that their squads are just as obsessed with you guys as we all are. I'm sorry, bitch.

What? You are making my entire year right now. The fibby knows who the fuck we are. I want to know, like special agents, intel analysts, like, I'm freaking out. They're, they think. we're good? Sybil? Sybil thinks we're good? I'm freaking out. I'm losing my shite right now. You guys are the reason why the government is so slow. Don't tell anybody that. We can never seem to get anything done once someone mentions any of your episodes. Are you shitting my dick right now?

So what if all ever goes missing, you better believe that we will be on that bitch like moss on a Mississippi tree stump as Michael. Do you understand how good that makes me feel that like if we go missing, the FBI actually cares about us? This is really... And they know who we is? This is really a moment. Wow. This is really a moment, Sybil, that you've given me. You've not only given me that information that makes me feel very secure and safe. I'm like, yeah, the FBI knows. I want to invite the whole FBI to my wedding now. Yeah, can everybody just come over and like hang out for a barbecue? That would be the safest wedding ever. Let's go swim in. Let's go. Let's go. Let's go. You're like, I just want, you want a hamburger? Do you want a hot dog? I'm like, the cook at our dinner is, excuse me, the chef at our wedding, not our dinner is very good. You're all invited. No, this is so freaking cool. I'm losing my brain. This is really cool.

That's wild. And also the fact, Sybil, that you used, like, that you used the phrase, we would be on that bitch, like Moss on a Mississippi tree stump, like Michael Scott. I know exactly what episode you're referring to, and I appreciate that on every level I did. I also love that Sybil spoke to both of our souls because she gave us both an El Wood's reference, which like, hello. Yeah.

And then she gave you your office reference. I appreciate it. That's great. So now the reason I'm writing to you. This past, that could have been it. And I would have been like listener tale the best. Achieved. This past Sunday, I distinctly remembered climbing into bed at around 9.30, which is honestly pretty late for me. Yes, yes. Your girl's straight up geriatric. I don't feel that. I go to bed at 10. I wake up at 3.30 to get to the gym and listen to you guys. You get better and better. I just want you to know that. In the morning. In order to get to work by six before midday classes and physical therapy in the afternoon. See, every time I feel like, Like, I can't do it. I'm just going to read this email. Yeah. Honestly, Sybil, I'm like, Elena, get the fuck up tomorrow morning and get on the treadmill.

Literally. Like, please. Wow. As I got into bed, this panic came over me. I thought it was just the Sunday blues, but it's more like the panic one gets prior to public speaking or walking into class on your first day of a new school. Ooh.

I felt up. Or that time when I was walking down a D.C. sidewalk at 4am on a Friday that also happened to be the 13th. I couldn't sleep. And there was one of those strange lulls in traffic. where in a busy city there are suddenly no cars, buses, motorcycles, or bikers. And all you seem to hear is the fog. A very fit jogger was walking towards me.

And the way his clothes fit and the way he walked made him look straight up like slender man. I hate it. But that's a story for another time. Please send that one. So I'm panicking in bed, barbecue sauce on my titties. L.O.L. just kidding. I love it. And eventually I fall asleep.

I wake up to my alarm. and unlock my phone as usual, but this time I see four texts for my mom. I'm immediately awake. She knows I'm dead asleep by 6.30 p.m. most nights, but I didn't think that it could be anything bad. I didn't think to brace myself. She tells me that my nephew, who's more like a cousin to me, given that we're only a few months apart, was shot and killed last night at around 9.30 p.m. Around the same time that that wave of panic hit me. Oh, that hurts my heart. She didn't know anything more than that, I damn near spit out my mouth guard. Of course it took time for the news to get back to my parents, so my mom didn't tell me via text until around 1030. I went to work in school as usual,

and while I got lost in my research, I forgot he was dead. And then every few hours, I would imagine him lying on a table in a cold morgue. One thing everyone loved about him was his smile, and the boy could light, boy could he light up a room. I hadn't seen him in years. He visited my family home for my dad's retirement party. And I didn't say goodbye because we were both 19 and surely we'd see each other again, right? But that smile was infectious and I kept thinking that day and still think about how I'll never see him smile again. That's easily the worst part for me. Oh, this is horrific. I was afraid that given he was from a poor, gritty city that the police wouldn't pay much attention to finding his killer. I thought that they would just think this was another black boy snuffed out by gun

violence and that absolutely enraged me. That would not be the end of his story. I've spent hundreds of hours listening to you guys talk about how easy it is for murderers, especially of black Americans to not get the same attention, respect, and call to action that white people get. And I wasn't going to let that be his story. I wanted to find this cowardly waste of human skin that shattered my family and make sure that he never saw the light of day again. Fuck yeah. But first, we needed to know what happened. Thanks to you guys and my line of work, I knew exactly where to begin without using my employment with the Bureau to my advantage. Abusive government position is a huge no-no if your last name isn't Trump, yes. His ass needs to be locked up too. Anyway, within a few hours, I found out the

name, phone number, and even salary of the lead investigator. Hell yeah. I also found out that this investigator tried to sue the police department for putting him on leave without pay after he assaulted a suspect by hitting him over the head with a flashlight. He did not win that. He did not win that case, but he's still on the police force. That's fucked up. I spoke to my family members who still lived in this city and found out that my nephew slash cousin was shopping at a dollar general with his girlfriend that night. Some other girls who also in the story said they were going to jump his girlfriend. They were going to jump his girlfriend and my cousin stepped in to say that wasn't going to happen. They weren't going to gang up on her. So I guess these girls called some shady characters

for backup. And as my cousin walked out of the store with his purchase, a member of a family known to deal in fentanyl in something called gray death, shot him twice. Oh my God. This is so fucking senseless. This is insane. His girlfriend tried to run back into the store for her safety, but someone wouldn't let her in. Are you kidding me? She didn't know that my cousin had been shot, and I'd like to think that if she knew she wouldn't have run away from him. I still don't know if he died alone in that parking lot. Oh, I'm so sorry. I'm getting like chills from this. And I'm just so sorry that you have to wonder that. I know. At some point, the shooter made the smart decision to shoot himself in the leg so it would seem like he had been the victim of needless violence.

He actually drove himself to the hospital with non-life-threatening injuries while my cousin bled out in the parking lot. What an asshole. They both ended up at the same hospital. The hospital I vaguely remember as a toddler because it was a weird intersection that was hard to pass to get from daycare to home. My cousin was dead by the time they arrived. Really, all props go to my brother who gave me a random name, Joseph or Joe or Jose Serrano.

Between work and final papers, I was still. scoping the web for anything I could find on this waste of precious air. He is the sperm that should have been swallowed, to put it mildly. I found him and I managed to do it from a city more than 300 miles away from where the crime occurred. That's because you are fucking Sybil. You are the baddest bitch. He was a part of a drug family and it looks like he's got a couple of relatives in prison

on drug charges. Now he'll join them on a murder charge. I passed this info along to the investigator. In the day before the funeral, Joseph or Joe or Jose was out of the hospital and before a judge. My stellar research skills also came in handy because I found the name of the judge overseeing the case, and I know exactly how to reach him. I'm going to write this judge and ask for a victim impact statements to be allowed when considering his sentence. He doesn't deserve to walk this earth. How dare he murder someone whose only crime was stopping his girlfriend from being physically assaulted

on a Sunday night in a convenience store? But there is some good that came out of this. I once thought my education and my wealth privilege and my jobs would protect me and the ones that I loved. I thought that growing up in the suburbs surrounding D.C. and going to nice private schools and expensive colleges would insulate me. They would make it impossible for tragedies like gun violence to even come close to affecting me. This certainly has been a wake-up call and encouraged me to reach out to my abusive father who I haven't spoken to since I was 20, even though he lives with my mom and brothers back in Virginia, and he and my mom are celebrating 25 years of marriage. Despite the abuse, I'm sympathetic to his loss, our loss.

No one is supposed to bury their child, but especially not their grandchild. And I really do pity him. Wow. You are, that's a man. What a, what a, you are, you're that definition of like, I'm going to be the bigger person. That is a big person to be able to do that. I'm also hopeful that my cousin didn't die alone or that he wasn't in too much pain when he passed.

I wrote him a letter the day before he was laid to rest and it was so sunny that day. The only reason to which I attributed such. great weather was his smile. It's like his smile was lighting up the entire sky, and for some reason it took his death for me, someone who never stops to appreciate the present, to do so then and there. I also think his smile shined so brightly that day because he was finally getting to meet so many people who loved him from afar all his life. People have been waiting to shower him with an amount of love that we can only dream of. I'd like to think that he is having such a great time in heaven that he doesn't know the grief that his death has caused down here. It's like, oh my God,

like giving me the chills. You're a beautiful fucking writer. It's like collectively for all the people who knew and loved him, our world has stopped and it's suddenly beginning to turn again. I can't wait to see him again to see his smile, but I know he'd want me to take my time getting there. And I know that when I do, hopefully when I'm old, but not too decrepit, he'll be waiting for me with the biggest, most reassuring hug that we've put off for far, far too long. And he'll tell me that he was just fine the moment he got here and that he's glad I'm here now too. I am literally going to cry. like tears in my throat here. P.S. What are you guys going to cover? This is actually right on our list. When are you guys going to cover Emmett Till, the Central Park Five, or Malcolm X's assassination?

Emmett Till has been on my list for so long. And every time I go to it, I have such a hard time finishing the research, but I got to do it. It's a really, really harrowing case. The first one is definitely a doozy, and I understand that it's painful to research. Exactly. But I'm surprised how few people know about it, considering everything his mother's did to ensure people saw what segregation did to her baby. Absolutely. I'll definitely volunteer as tribute if you want a baby PhD to be a guest host for that episode. Ooh, Sybil, Sybil, Sybil. Hello, Sybil. Stay weird, but not so weird that you kill a petty weirdos family member, because if you do, she will absolutely hunt your ass down as well as your entire family and inundate

the judge's mailbox with victim impact statements from her very large family to ensure you die a cold, lonely, and miserable death inside a jail cell. That will be made specific. specifically for cunts like you. And if I don't make it to heaven, you believe I will see you in hell, Serrano. Fucking Sybil. Sybil. Sybil. Oh my God.

You've given me everything I needed today. Seriously. And we got to talk. And I'm so sorry that you lost your cousin and that your family lost their family member. Yeah. What a horrific thing that had to spur. In such a senseless way. Yeah.

I can't get. How many times do we walk to the dollar general and do like get a quick purchase? and walk out. And you, and the fact that you had to do all the research to like really like what you need in here and like victim impact statements and such, it shouldn't be that way. But thank goodness you are who you are. Seriously. But Sybil. And you're a badass. You know what? We got to talk, Sybil. We got to talk. We'll be emailing you shortly. We'll be in touch. That was a crazy one, Sybil. Thank you for sending that. All righty. My next one is called Inside the Criminal Psych Ward, a listener tale. Whoa, that's going to be a dozy, I feel. Yeah. Morbid weirdos. I wanted to write in because while I have a number of listener tale stories I could provide, there is one that still sticks with me to this day. Because I don't want to compromise any providers, hospitals, or patients that I've worked with, I'm omitting in any identifying information and asking that my own, yes, my own can be kept anonymous. I don't know why I tried to stop there. So for all,

intents and purposes, let's simply say that I am a therapist that worked in a state hospital system. You got it. Sounds good. Anything more to me. The particular tale in case I'm sharing today comes from inside a massive state hospital. This infamous psychiatric hospital is one that most have seen, but are unaware of knowing. It is also very old and has a history that is ridden in scandal, casualty, and the profane early treatments and diagnoses of those with mental illnesses.

As psychiatry progressed over the years, the hospital, and its underground tunnels also moved forward. Yet even today, this hospital has work to do. The field is constantly evolving and changing. Let's all trust for the better. So within the walls of this expansive hospital, I completed my therapeutic work. While there were a number of civilly committed patients, the majority of patients were criminally committed. Some patients were merely trying to stabilize an attempt, sorry, some patients we were merely trying to stabilize in attempts for them to withstand trial. but most patients had pled not guilty by reason of insanity and were sentenced here for treatment, with the end goal being rehabilitation. The cases, files, information, and the processes that I witnessed

were shocking and endless. Some crimes were petty misdemeanors, trespassing theft, harassment, assault, etc. Yet others were far more morbid, if you will. Oh, the stories I could tell, which leads me to hear. There was one particular patient and moment that I will never quite forget. I didn't have time to intimately go through each and every patient's file. There were hundreds. This patient was in the final stages of the rehabilitation track, and I interacted with them only occasionally. Yet every time I did interact with this patient, it was clear that their prospective future would be a success story. This individual was gentle, kind, communicative, insightful. No conflicts with other patients, no issues with the staff. They were safely in and out of the public and demonstrated positive change. That's great. One day out in the yard, we conversed and discussed their upcoming goals and plans. This patient told me that they were attempting to get a special request to visit the gravesite of their mother. The patient stated that they never had been able to say goodbye and hadn't been able to visit since being admitted to the hospital. The road to rehabilitation can be long,

and some never do make it out. So I wished them well in the outing and encouraged reaching out to their care team for support in doing so. A few weeks later, I once again ran into this patient in the yard. As always, the patient's demeanor was pleasant and relaxed. I approached them and asked if how, excuse me, I approached them and asked if they had managed to make it to the grave site. They stated that, yes, they did. I asked how it went. The patient replied, it was hard, really hard. After all, I was the one who put her there. Oh, aka, yes, this patient had killed her. Oh, that's chilling as fuck. That moment of realization will be with me for the rest of my life. So now I'm here to say that I'm fully aware of the complexities and, excuse me, the complexities around criminal offenses and those that

commit them. There are still too many loopholes. There is not always justice. There is sometimes risk of reoffending. There is still a long way to go regarding mental health, stigma, treatment, and recovery. But I'm also here to say that sometimes rehabilitation does work. Some people, excuse me, sometimes people do change. Sometimes they are just very, very sick and need help. This patient turned my world perspective upside down. My firsthand experience is working with those criminally committed has me asking questions to which I've resolved may never have answers. I simply wanted to share because this story is also an important one to tell. Thanks for everything you do and for the knowledge you bring. I only hope I too can continue to do the same. Thanks. Wow. That's that was chilling. Wild.

Really chilling and really important. I was going to say. Absolutely. Wow. Thank you for that. I know. Thank you. Anonymous. I appreciate. Thank you for sending that. We really appreciate it. That was also like beautifully written. It really was and it was just like to the point, here's what I learned. And an important story to share.

So why don't we end it on screams at 2.15 a.m. A. Redbird and an unexplored gift. Ooh. I feel like just from that title you're going to be a really good writer. I'm saying. That's today's themes. It's really good writers. Elena and Ash attached to this email.

will find my double space PDF listener tale for your reading enjoyment. Buckle up. This one will give you all the hebie-jeebies. Let us see. Hey weirdos. I've always wanted to say that. My name is Beck. Feel free to use it. And any other ones that may appear in this story if you chance to happen to read it, yes, we will. Which, if you are, just know I'm currently imploding. Uh-oh. Oh, I'm sorry to you're imploding. Are you okay? I live in Minnesota and yes, we really do say Ufta. Ufta. Ufta. Have we talked about that? before? Maybe. Maybe. I'm a teacher, a mom of three tiny humans. Hell yeah. And I'm obsessed with all things true crime and spooky yuki. Hell yeah. However, even in my late 20s, I still can't watch

scary movies or I won't be able to sleep. Somehow, you ladies, make the unthinkable, entertaining, and my obsession no doubt is credited to this podcast. Since I'm already gushing over how amazing you are, let me start my listener tale the same way as everyone else does. I love morbid. I started listening to you ladies back in the summer of 2021 and have listened to every single episode. In fact, have begun re-listening it because why the heck not? I know you guys cringe when you talk about your beginning episodes, but honestly, they're some of my favorites. I love the banter. My birthday is next month, and I asked my husband to get me a Patreon subscription because I seriously can't get enough. I look forward to tuning in every week in anticipation of a new episode. You guys keep me

going day, hold on. Oh, you guys keep me going even on my toughest days. But anywho, let's get to the reason we are here. That was really nice of you. Thank you. That was so sweet. Thank you. you. I've been debating about writing my listener tale for quite some time now. And I'm not going to lie. It's kind of a doozy. So buckle up and have the tissues on standby. Things are about to get sad here for a bit. Oh no. I grew up in a small family. It was just my parents, my brother, and myself. I wish I could say this meant we were all super close, but unfortunately things don't always go that way. My brother and I were very different people. We had different hobbies, enjoyed different activities. And there was a four-year age gap, which meant that we really didn't hang out a lot either.

It wasn't until adulthood that we really began to have a closer relationship. That happens a lot. We both found the love of our lives, married young, started our own families, and began to connect over our similar life experiences. We bonded by talking about parenthood and all of its amazing moments, trials, and tribulations. It was such a joy to watch all of our kids as cousins playing together in bonding. For the first time in my life, my brother truly felt like my brother. Then in November of 2020, at the height of the pandemic, my dad was diagnosed.

with an aggressive stage three cancer. I'm so sorry. Our world was rocked. However, through the experience we came together as we searched for the best oncologists, new treatments, and a way to ensure that our dad was going to stick around and continue to be the amazing grandfather that he was. I'm happy to report that as we fast, as you fast forward to today, my dad is currently cancer free and in remission.

Fuck, yes. Fuck cancer. That's awesome. Even in the midst of my dad's diagnosis at the time, our family was stronger than ever. That's awesome. That's truly amazing. That's part of healing. It is.

Then March of 2021 came. I got a call from my mom one day saying that my brother wasn't feeling well. He had just gotten his first COVID vaccine dose and attributed his symptoms to the shot. She more or less was calling me to give me a heads up since I was scheduled to get mine today or get mine soon that I may need to take a day or two off from work. Trigger warning COVID-19. A few days later, he was feeling even worse. My parents went to visit him and found him bedridden.

They decided at that moment he needed to go to the hospital. His wife stayed home with their children while my parents took him in. Upon arrival, it was discovered that he had COVID. He was immediately transferred to the nearest ICU unit. It was determined by doctors that he somehow contracted COVID around a week before he received his first dose of the vaccine. Oh, no. He tried to be so careful, but it was too late. I'm going to try to keep a long story short here.

So what you need to know is that he spent three weeks in the hospital, two of those weeks he was on a ventilator. Oh, my God. That was until one day I got a phone call at two in the morning telling me I needed to go to the hospital ASAP to say goodbye. I drove 30 minutes speeding through the pouring rain to get there in time. Luckily, I made it. My mom, dad, sister-in-law and myself all surrounding him during his last hour before the nurse pronounced him dead. Oh, this is like...

I'm so, so sorry. Oh, I have like a lump in my throat. I do too. sorry. I watched as my parents collapsed to the ground in agony. And my sister-in-law clung to his body weeping uncontrollably. Oh, I can't. And like, I can't imagine. He's picturing like, oh. No one can prepare you for what it's like to watch a loved one die. He was 30 years old. Oh, my God. We spent a few hours at the hospital before returning to his home as I watched his wife

explained to their, oh, explained to their young children that their daddy was never. coming home. Oh, oh, you got me crying. You got it. Yeah. The weeks following his death is truly where my story begins. Insert deep breath here. Yep, I have to insert a deep breath there. Yeah. Oh, I'm so sorry for your entire family. I really am. Oh, okay. Let me preface this by saying that I have always felt in tune with the world around me. I was raised religious, but I'll be honest. I'm not sure what I believe anymore. That's okay. Same. Completely okay. All I know is that there are forces, spirits, natural beings, whatever you want to call it, that surround us. I agree. I can go with that. Naturally, being the terrified individual that I have never explored these feelings I have. I've been too terrified that I will summon a demon in the rest of my life I will be haunted. That's a very valid fear. It is. My mother also has had these feelings. Growing up, she would tell me about dreams she would have that ended up being premonitions. And to this day, these abilities continue. It's so funny when we were just reading like the top. of that, like, how they said, like, I'm raised religious, but I don't know what I believe anymore. And then,

like, I never explore those feelings. I was like, I wonder if they, like, have some kind of abilities and, like, maybe it pushed them away. Oh, 100%. I just got that sense. So that's so funny that then you said that your mom has those abilities. Also, my mom's the same way. She's, she always has premonitions. Ma is a damn wish. She always knows. I also recently found out that my grandfather is also in tune with his surroundings. He shared with me that when he was six years, he was six years. years old, his baby sister passed away. He remembered standing around her coffin with his siblings while his mother and father sobbed. He looked out through a window where he distinctly saw his baby sister. He said she smiled and slowly disappeared right before his eyes. All things considered, I have

pretty much accepted that my family has a gift. And I think this is why I'm able to recognize the events happening around me. It was about two weeks after my brother passed away. My husband and I were in the process of moving into our new, new to us 1930s home. Did I mention that all of that was going on during this time too? It was always, it has always been a dream to move into the country and fix up an old farmhouse to raise our family in. It was a crazy month. We were sleeping in the living room the first couple of weeks on our mattress because our bedroom was full of boxes and we hadn't had a chance to unpack yet. It was 2.15 in the morning and I was dead asleep when all of a sudden I was awoken by a large bang. The sound reminded me of a gunshot. I woke up,

terrified. I shook my husband awake and insisted that someone had tried to break into our house. He said he didn't hear anything and after checking the house we went back to sleep. But I knew what I heard and I wasn't able to fall asleep for hours. I shook off this experience as my mind playing tricks on me. After all, I was in a new home and must not have been used to the sounds of the house yet. That was until one week later. We were still sleeping in the living room at this point and I was once again woken up at the same loud bang. Except this time when I sprang forward, I heard a man scream. and once I opened my eyes I swore I saw a bright glow at the end of my bed. It was there for about one second before it disappeared.

I checked the clock, 215 once again. I woke my husband terrified and shaking. He once again got up and checked the house before proceeding to tell me there was nothing and go back to bed. At this point, I know something was going on, but I wasn't willing to admit it to myself. Finally, later that week, we unpacked the boxes and moved into our bedroom. I felt safe and secure finally because we had a door. Spirits can't get through doors, right? You know, that's actually like supposed to be a thing.

That's a thing, yeah. Like if you close your doors, you're good. There you go. Looking back, I can't help but laugh thinking of my false sense of security because two weeks later, it happened again. This time, it was a bang, followed by the sound of a man screaming. Oh, I hate that. I know.

I don't like that at all. And the glow of a light. I once again checked the clock, 215. That was it. I was convinced I was dealing with a spirit. But who was it? and what did they want from me? They certainly didn't seem friendly,

but they weren't harming me either. So I kept my feelings to myself and awaited its return, terrified and uneasy about what was to happen next. Then something I could never have predicted happened. It was a week later that a relative of mine approached me. She pulled me aside and told me she had something to share, she had something that she had yet to share with anyone. For the last six months, she had been experiencing visits from spirits.

She isn't a particularly religious person herself, and for fear of others thinking she was crazy, she kept these experiences to herself. She came to me and told me that three days after my brother passed, he visited her. He introduced himself to her through a series of images. These images showed memories of him and his wife over his lifetime, memories that brought him joy and peace. She said that through these images, she was able to recognize that he was the spirit trying to contact with her. Once she made the realization, she said that her vision changed,

An orb came towards her and took possession of her eyes. She said it was as though she was looking through his eyes in this moment. He told her that he had a message she needed to share. So she sat down in her computer and began typing. Oh my goodness. I am fully chilly, willying all over. Yeah, I'm like wrapping myself tighter in my blanket right now. Wow.

The message she shared rocked us to our core. Not only did it sound like him, but the information he shared no one else knew about us. No one else knew but us. It was extremely clear to me that it was in fact my brother who visited her. As our conversation was ending, she mentioned to me that he was going to try to contact my family, and she asked me if I had any unusual experiences. I told her about the loud noises in the middle of the night, and she urged me to reach out to my family to see if they had experienced the same thing.

Most importantly, she stressed to me that if I wanted to communicate with him, she thought I could, but I needed to open my mind to the idea and invite him. him into my thoughts. The next day, by sheer coincidence, my mom came over to my house. We were walking and reminiscing about my brother when she shared with me that she was having trouble sleeping. I said sleeping, too. She said that from time to time she kept hearing loud noises during the night. As I sat there with my, as I sat there, my jaw hit the floor and I felt a chill run down my spine. I looked her straight in the face and asked her when exactly these experiences occurred. She pulled out a calendar and pointed out three dates. Each of the dates, each of the dates

was exactly one day after my experiences, and every one of them occurred between 2 a.m. and 3 a.m. Dude. When the shock wore from my system, I told my mom what had happened to me. My mom stood there dumbfounded, as I recalled what I heard and saw those nights. Her experiences were identical. At that moment, we decided to keep each other informed moving forward, so we agreed that if it happened again, we would share with each other, and in the meantime, we were going to reach out to other close family members to see if they had experienced anything. Well, before we were. We both had the opportunity to do that. That very night, I had another visit.

2.15 a.m. loud bang, male shouting and a blur of light. I don't like the male shouting. That's freaking me out. I don't like that either. I decided to keep this to myself because the doubt inside of me took over and I wanted to see if it would actually happen again to my mother. Sorry, Mom. Sure enough.

24 hours later, I get a phone call. Beck? Yeah, Mom? I had a visitor last night. Has anything happened to you? I could feel my voice shake. Yes, it did. Where do we go from here?

I don't know. It was clear at this point that the spirit of my brother was trying to connect with us. I told my mom that I was informed that if we wanted to get to further the relationship with the spirit, we needed to open our thoughts to the prospect. It was at this time my mom decided to be open to this idea. If it was my brother, she said she wanted to clear her mind and see if she could get him to come through on a more personal level. Me, on the other hand, well, we've talked about how much of a scaredy cat I am, so I was not really as open as her.

Over the next month, the spirit visited me two more times in the middle of the night. When it did, I would say the same phrase in my head over and over again. Whoever is here, please go away. If you are my brother, approach me in a different way. I like that, because I feel like I would have said the same thing. You're scaring me. You're freaking me out. Please go about this differently.

After those experiences, the visits finally stopped. Over time, I once again began sleeping peacefully. Throughout the last year, I now know that he comes to me in nature. In particular, I've noticed that whenever I think of him, him, I look outside and see a red cardinal. That's a thing in our family, too. Holy shit, it is. It is the same one every time.

It sits in the same spot on our old birch tree and will look back at me before flying off and disappearing from view. Ma has always said that her dad is a cardinal. The chills I've got throughout this entire listener tales episode. And that's like a thing. Like cardinals are supposed to represent. A loved one coming to see you. And they usually come and see you like to let you know that like you're doing a good job.

Oh, I love that. My property out in the country is one of my favorite places on this earth, and I'm convinced that is why he chose to approach me this way. For that, I am grateful. My mother, on the other hand, while since opened her mind to the idea of him approaching her, she has experiences on almost a weekly basis. The loud bangs in the middle of the night have continued, and she often has dreams where he shares messages with her. She has a photo of him that sits on her kitchen counter, and every once in a while, it will move or fall over without warning. She has formed this connection with him in the afterlife that most people only dream of experiencing. My father has started to have experiences of his own as well. I love this. He is often awoken by a blur of light sitting at the end of his bed.

When this happens, he experiences a warm sensation and as quickly as he realizes what is going on, the light disappears. When it goes, he says he can feel the weight of his bed shift as if someone rolled out of bed. This is like so beautiful. This is the most beautiful thing. I have tears in my eyes right now. confirm. While most people would be terrified by these occurrences, my parents instead look forward to these visits and call me excitedly whenever one occurs. I totally understand not.

I can't tell you what I believe in all of this. I'm fairly certain that the spirit visiting my family is my brother, but who knows? I'm like, I'm convinced. Perhaps it is a spirit who is a spirit who is imitating him and praying on the vulnerable, or perhaps I'm too cautious and I should open my mind to the thought of him visiting me in a more

personal manner. Whatever is occurring, I know that my parents are grateful that they still get to connect with their son through what they believe are these experiences from him. For now, I continue to believe that the red bird on my old birch tree is his spirit, and I think that's okay. It is. Just like no one prepares you to watch a loved one die, no one prepares you for how to deal with them in the afterlife, all in due time. And that morbid obsessed listeners is my story about my possible spirit brother and the paranormal gift that I appear to have inherited from my mom. Yay for paranormal experiences that continually freak me the hell out. Anyway, keep it weird, but not so weird that you wait 26 years to connect with your brother, only to have him die of COVID soon after, and then you're visited by him continuously,

and have to deal with confronting your spiritual gift, which gives you extreme anxiety, but you don't know what to do with it, and not so weird that you don't get vaccinated for COVID, because it is very real. It impacts the lives of millions of people every day. Don't keep it that weird. But do keep it so weird that you keep listening to this podcast, because Elena and Ash are the literal best. Oh, my God.

Thank you. Fuck yeah, but that was so beautiful. Beautiful. So heart-wrenching. I can't get over these listener tales. Like you guys, this was such a heavy, but such a good episode. This was, like, this was such a heavy episode, but so beautiful. I am, like, fulfilled by this episode.

Oh, my God. I feel like I need to go to, like, the witchy store in town and just buy a fucking crystal. You guys have, like, touched my soul with these listener tales. I'm so alive. I'm so appreciative of you. Like, wow. Thank you guys. I'm at a loss for words.

I seriously. Like, seriously. Like, we appreciate you a lot. This is like, this has been a really, like, intense episode, but I really liked it. It has. Oh, my goodness. Thank you so much, guys. Wow.

All right. Well, we love you. Yeah. We love the hell out of you. That you keep listening. And we hope you. Keep it weird. But not so weird that you leave the house with your dead phone while you're on their way to work

and you experience it run in with the crossboat killer because that could have ended. so differently. And I'm so happy that the shopkeeper was there to save you. And definitely keep it so weird that you're sitting there with your brother and he tells you that you both had the same exact experience when he like almost literally died. And then definitely keep it so weird. Well, no, no, no, no, no. Don't keep it so weird that a guy chases you with a teaky torch. And then you don't call the emergency line. Oh, my goodness, qualifying, you got to call the emergency line. Do keep it so weird that now you have friends in the FBI because that's absolutely wild. And that's really, really cool. And that story was amazing. And definitely keep it so cool that you're

open to the thought that people can be rehabilitated because that's like an important theme in society. I think. You know what I mean? You know what I'm saying? And definitely. keep it so weird that your brother gets reincarnated as Red Cardinal and visits you in the middle of the night and you have spiritual abilities because I just think that is really fucking cool and I am so sorry for your family's loss and we love all of you so much.