Morbid - Glen Helzer and the Children of Thunder (Part 2)

Episode Date: July 3, 2025

When Ivan and Annette Stineman disappeared from their home in Concord, California in the summer of 2000, it immediately raised red alarmed with those closest to the elderly couple. Those alarms proved to be justified when, a week later, the remains of the Stinemans and three others were discovered in duffel bags in Sacramento River Delta.The day after the remains were found in river, investigators arrested Taylor and Justin Helzer, and Justin’s girlfriend, Dawn Godman, for the murders of Ivan and Annette Stineman. A short time later, they would also be charged with the murders of Taylor’s girlfriend, Selina Bishop, her mother, Jenny Villarin, and Villarin’s boyfriend, Jim Gamble.At first, investigators believed the murders were part of a plot to extort the Stinemans for a large amount of money, but the deeper they dug into the lives and backgrounds of the killers, a different and far more bizarre motive began to emerge.Thank you to the Incredible Dave White of Bring Me the Axe Podcast for research and Writing support!ReferencesAguila, Justino. 2000. "Boyfriend probed in homicides." San Francisco Examiner, August 7: 3.Bulwa, Demian. 2004. "Killer lays out grisly details of murder spree." San Francisco Chronicle, May 28.Kim, Ryan. 2000. "Double slaying rattles Marin town." San Francisco Examiner, August 4: 16.Lee, Henry K. 2013. "Justin Helzer hangs himself in prison." San Francisco Chronicle, April 16.People of the State of California v. Helzer. 2024. S132256 (Supreme Court of California, January 22).Read, Simon. 2004. "Jury finds Helzer guilty of murder." East Bay Times, June 17.San Francisco Examiner. 2000. "Delta body parts identified ." San Francisco Examiner, August 9.—. 2000. "Elvin Bishop's daughter missing." San Francisco Examiner, August 5: 3.Scott, Robert. 2005. Unholy Sacrifice. New York, NY: Pinnacle Books.  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. I'm Ash. And this is morbid. It's a listener tale brought to you, by you, for you, from you and all about you, baby. And it's later in the day, which you know what that means? We are going to be punchy. We are slaple happle. Slapple. And you guys have sent so many wonderful things to the email, including a couple of ripperologist certificates that you have made for me. I am printing them all out. I want you to know right now. Elena's going to make a collage of all her river certificates. I'm not even kidding. I just said that like I'm choosing a wall in the pod lab and I'm going to display each and every one of them. Yeah, that wall right there. I'm going to put them all up.

I appreciate it so much. It made me laugh. It made me smile. You guys rule. And I love that you do those kind of things because you're wonderful people. And I'm going to hang them on the wall. I'm going to take a photo of them at some point. So thank you for doing that.

It just like made my. day. I was dying laughing when I saw it. I love it. So they'll be displayed proudly. They'll be on display. Truly. Except, yikes. And if you know, you know, there you go. Yeah. So this is listener tales, everybody. This is listener tales. And I think I'll start us off if you, if you don't mind. Do it. All right. Listener tales. My mom moved me in with a murderer, but at least we had floors. Wow. Yeah. I'm not sure what to say about that.

You know? Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Starts off by saying, Hello, you wonderful witchy women. Thank you. Hey.

I love y'all's podcast and listen every morning as I get ready for work. Ash, congrats on your engagement. Thank you. And Elena, congrats on your book. Big thanks. Poppin. Thanks. Also, a thank you is in order.

Since listening to you ladies, the phrase, get fucked, has become one of my daily expressions. Oh, my God. You know what's funny? It's funny that you picked one that mentions that. Because last night, I said something and Ash, and John was like. Interchangeable. John was like, you know, do you tell people, like, he's like, have you ever said to someone's face get fucked? And I was like, I don't know.

I feel like I might have at some point. I was like, I think I have. And he was like, that. Like, he's like, I hear you say that about people. He's like, I have a question. Yeah, he's like, I've heard you say that quite a bit. And he's like, but I've never seen you say it to someone's face. So he was like, I just want to know.

And he was like, that's like a real, that's a, that feels like an insult. Like that is like, get fucked. Uh-huh. I'm thinking back to the only time that I've ever said that to somebody in my life and I'm feeling that feeling. Yeah. Yeah. It's a good feeling.

So it's just funny that you mentioned that. I'm glad that that came up. Is, is bringing joy to a lot of people. It should. It feels great. Yeah. It gives you just a sense of, just a release. Yeah.

Yeah. You know? So thanks for mentioning that. I also just love that you're a big thangs popping. Hell yeah. I love it a lot. But Get Fucked has become one of your daily expressions. It's quite satisfying to say and fits more situations than you would think.

There you go. True. The listener tales crack me up and I always wish that I had one to send, but then it dawned on me. You spent years living with a murderer, you dumb bitch. That shit listener tales are made up. It's very true. Yeah. Attached as a double-spaced put-a-fuh for your reading ease.

It's about an eight-minute read. You guys are just killing it. Oh, man, you guys. And at the urge of my overprotective grandma, all names have been changed. Thank you. If this does get read on the podcast, please include the shout out to my dear friend who is a truck driver. Hell yeah. We love a good truck driver.

We love a good truck driver. And I'm sure he's listening right now. Shout out, Della. Love you, bitch. What's up Della? That's a cool name. Yeah, it really is. Side note, I know you girls have a love of great TV and Elena has a love of all things

Hollywood. Actually, that's me. Please check out the show Feud on Hulu. It has too many amazing things to describe, but I feel like y'all would appreciate it as much as I would. Is that? Is that Betty Davis? Oh, probably. Probably. I think I love that show. That's a great show. I haven't seen that show.

I think it's a Ryan Murphy show. Oh, I love Ryan Murphy. A little project. Well, I'm going to have to watch that. Yeah, you are. But first, I'm going to redo this listener tale. Until the age of nine, I lived in a rural town in South Carolina. Like most abandoned factory towns, once the mill closed, the majority of the population struggled as finances took a toll on many families. A lot of folks moved out of the area and many of them have stayed, oh, excuse me, a lot of folks moved out of that area and many of those that stayed turned to drugs, my family including. Now, don't go apologizing over that. I don't feel like, I don't like people feeling sorry for me and I handle most of my childhood trauma with humor, which gets me a lot of sideways looks, but those who get it, get it. That's why people are, Funny. Exactly. Childhood trauma makes us funny adults. Being a child with drug addict parents wasn't all bad. I've never had a bedtime, a curfew, or been grounded. No one checked up on my grades or told me not to eat too many sweets before bed. You know, the shit kids dream about. I know a lot of kids who grew up like this end up in the same cycle of drug abuse. But for me, living like this taught me a lot of self-discipline and accountability. I have a sister who's three years younger than me and we always had to look out for each other because who the fuck else was going. too. I have to say. I'm so sorry. Like, that is hurting my heart. Yeah. Like, I want somebody to look out

for you when you were little. Exactly. They should have. At nine, my parents divorced, I know you're absolutely shocked that they failed to sustain a loving, happy relationship, but alas, it was not meant to be. It was an ugly separation and my sister and I ended up living with our grandparents. One day, my mom called up my ma-ma-ma-ma-mall, pronounced how it spelled heavy on the W. Mau, ma-ma-ma. Ma-ma-ma. For some reason, people from the South can never say it right, so good luck. We tried. I really did. We gave it our best shot. She let Ma'amaw know that she had moved to Myrtle Beach, was in love, and wanted my sister and I to move in with her and her new boyfriend. They'd been dating for two weeks, so obviously it was a solid relationship and made perfect sense to throw some kids in the mix. Oi. Yikes. Regardless,

my sister and I were excited at the thought of living at the beach. We were 100% convinced that our lives would be the real life version of the show Rocket Power. Kabanga, dude. I fucking love that show. Wiggity, wiggity, wiggity, wiggity. Pulling up to our new home, we were met with the site of a dilapidated trailer on a dirt road. All right, not what I was expecting, but we were used to making lemon out of lemons. Lemonade out of lemons.

Yep. Did I just say lemons out of lemons? Sure did. You can make lemons out of lemons. You sure can. Cut one and half. You got two lemons. You made lemons out of lemons.

But you guys. We're used to making... You took it a step further. I'm innovative. You guys, though, were used to making lemonade out of lemons. Shabby chic is all the rage, right? Hell yeah. My grandma loves that brand.

She does. I remember when I moved to my grandparents, my grandma was fucking stoked because she got me shabby sheet curtains. Yeah. And she was really excited. With the little roses on them. They were beautiful. Before opening the door to what I was sure was our new rustic beach bungalow. my mom gave us very specific instructions on how to walk on the floor.

Weird, but whatever. This bitch was always going off on senseless tangents. We enthusiastically swung the door open and stepped with caution into the trailer just in case mom was right. And this time, she was. Two steps beyond the front door was a gaping hole in the floor that opened up to the sandy earth. Oh no. What the actual fuck.

Now, up to this point, the houses we lived in were modern. at best, but all of them had floors. You know, floors, one of the very basic qualities of a house. You're really funny. You're really funny. You are funny. I looked at my sister and her eyes reflected my horror. We both knew we were fucked. After a while, we move into a place with actual floors. Despite the improvement on the floor situation, daily life remained the same. Mom and Greg, my now stepdad, continued to have a volatile relationship. Greg had a son from a previous marriage, Justin, who moved in shortly after the new floors. Justin fit right in with my sister and I, like he'd been there all along.

We spent our days playing basketball, riding bikes, trying not to be seen during our parents' house parties, and ducking away in bedrooms when fights got too bad. Mom and Greg's relationship lasted for a few years after Justin moved in. When they split, Justin stayed with Mom and us girls for a while before moving back in with his own mother. years go by and a revolving door of men come in and out of our lives relatable to put it mildly life was chaotic i know deep down mom always tried to provide for us but addiction did get the best of her when mom was good she was good but when she was bad she was really bad i cannot relate to a sentiment more there was either no food in the fridge and the house was wrecked or mom was burning biscuits while deep cleaning the sink it wasn't a crack house it was a crack home Oh, I just, like, feel so bad that you had to deal with all of that chaos. That's the thing. It's, like, so chaotic and you just never know what you're going to come home to.

So it's like you're constantly in defense mode. Oh, and that just, like, hurts them. Like, my stomach hurts thinking about that, like a poor little kid dealing with that. I just feel really bad. It's sad. All the while, my mall mall tried to do her best to parent us via the telephone since she lived three hours away. One of Ma'amals. I'm trying to get the W.

I'm trying to get the W. You're going to have to. like email us back and tell me if I am your new worst enemy or if I did it right. One of Mall Mall's many methods of virtual parenthood included catching us up on the daily crime occurrences happening in town, making sure to let us know if us girls weren't careful, it could very well be our photo on the evening news. Flash to 2013, mom was now on her fifth future ex-husband. Yeah, fifth, bitch was busy.

Wow. During one of these cautionary conversations with my mom, mom, she asked if I'd spoken to just Justin recently. Uh, no, Ma'amaw. I don't exactly make it a habit to keep in touch with the offspring of your daughter's ex-lovers. That's fucking great. She went on to inform me that he had been arrested for murder.

Oh. Justin? Justin? I didn't see that coming. Years had gone by since I had seen or even thought of Justin. It wasn't that we didn't have a bond when we lived together, but between college, work, and trying to make sure that my sister had school clothes and lunch money, your girl was stretched pretty thin. Oh man, you're a really good sister. You're a real one. And a really good

daughter. And a good human. Yeah, you're just a good person. You rock. Never change. But turns out Justin had fallen into the same cycle of drug abuse as our parents. When I saw his mugshot, he was hardly recognizable. I know physical looks change as people age, but his eyes were cold. Not those of the kid that used to call up radio DJs to request they play my sister's favorite it's 50 cents song. Excuse me, 50 cent. Maul proceeded to tell me that Justin had an argument with his ex-girlfriend Lisa.

He shot her in the face at point-blank range. She was only 18. Oh, no. It later came out that he harassed and physically abused her for weeks, possibly longer, leading up to her murder. What was worse, he planned it out.

The gun that he shot her with was stolen from a relative's house five days prior to her murder. One week before her murder, he wrote in a Facebook post, I've lost the most important thing in my life. The best thing that could happen to me is gone. Now the worst is about to happen. Wow.

Oof. Justin. That is incredibly chilling. Justin subsequently pled guilty to murder, along with a string of other charges related to a burglary from a separate incident and was sentenced to 30 years. Wow. Lisa was a beautiful young woman who deserved to live her life in its entirety. Instead, it was cut short.

by a heartless murderer. Oh, that's so sad. 18. 18 years old. It still blows my mind that the boy who moved into our fully floored home, a boy my sister and I considered family at one point and had countless memories with could be capable of such a callous act. We all experienced rough times in our childhood, but nothing, and I mean nothing, could excuse

his blatant disregard for human life. Well, and it shows you right here. You all had a similar upbringing. Mm-hmm. And you chose to move past it. It's all what you make it. Yeah. Like Hannah Montana said, life's what you make it. So let's make it rock.

Precisely. Keep it weird, ladies. But not somewhere that your marriage hopping mother enters a string of drug-filled relationships and moves you in with a future killer. Never keep it that weird. Yeah, don't. That's good advice. I think that's great advice, I would say.

Oh. Wow. That was quite a tale. It hurt my heart. But you are a wonderful human. Yes. And your sister was lucky to have you. like your parents were lucky to have you.

Maw-M-Mau. I'm sure I was so proud of you. She was. And I hope that we said ma-mau. Right. Mal-Mal. And I did a southern accent all the way through. RAT. Rat.

Right. All right. Let's see. My listener tale, also, thank you for sending that in. And thank you for allowing us to read that. Yes, yes. Mine that I'm going to read is, but did your mom chase a murder in her minivan? No.

I stumbled over that. It was going to sound great. It still did. It says, Hi, Morbid Peeps. Attached is my listener tale, PDF, of course, and an article about the case. Thanks. Thank you. Let us see. Hey, weirdos. My name is Brianna. You can use it if you read this. Take a second. You were like, I was like, can I say it? And I've been a dedicated listener since I found out about morbid. Literally went back to episode one and listened to everything except the spooky ones. I can handle true crime, but ghosts in the paranormal, count me out.

Oh, no. Anywho, this story isn't about me per se. but about my mom, Stephanie. You can use her name too. Hey, Steph. Hey, Stephanie. Back in 2008, my brother and I were both in high school, and our house was the one that all the kids came to after school. Needless to say, my mom was used to having bikes and skateboards

littered in the driveway and yard when she got home from work. It was December 30th, and as she was pulling in the driveway, there was a bike blocking her way into the garage. The bike's owner came out of the garage and got on the bike to leave. Since it was December, he had his hood pulled, up and what my mom thought was a scarf around his mouth and nose. She said hello, thinking it was one of our friends. When she came in the house and asked my brother who had left, he said no one. My mom remembered that there had been a few thefts of tools from garages in the area recently. So for some reason,

my mom said to us kids, I'm going to go follow them and left in her baby blue Nissan Quest minivan. So some background on my mom. She is about five foot two and a hundred pounds soaking wet, but that woman is feisty. Sounds like Elena. I love her. She found the guy riding his bike on one of the main streets right outside of our neighborhood

and dialed 911. In her words, I should have just told the police where he was to follow him, but my mother bear instinct kicked in and I pulled up alongside of him and yelled, Who the fuck are you and what are you doing

in my garage? Told you see small but mighty. As her phone was connecting to 911, the guy on the bike reached into her window. Oh, my God. Which was only opened a few incidents. inches and grabbed her flip phone from her hands. Again, in her words, now I was pissed. That phone had all my children's and family's phone numbers, photos, etc. The bike guy turned off on the main street,

turned off of the main street onto a side street. And my mom said she considered bumping him with her van to knock him off the bike. Oh my gosh. She's in an action flick right now. She is. Something told her not to do that because it would make the aggressor, make her the aggressor. Side note, we watch a shit ton of true crime. Hence the, little voice in her head telling her not to become the aggressor. There you go. Look at her. My mom continued to follow the guy on his bike, who now has her cell phone honking her horn and hoping to get someone's attention from the neighborhood. She pulled up next to him and said, drop my fucking phone and I will stop following you.

What my mom didn't realize is that her phone had connected to 911. And when the guy on the bike hung up, 911 kept trying to call her back. Oh, man. So bike guy took the battery out of the flip phone batteries. Oh my goodness. And threw the phone and battery. on the side of the road. My mom stopped following him, and once she felt he was far enough away that she could get safely out of the car, she retrieved her phone and battery. By that time, the police were on their way from her initial call and arrived moments later. She told the police everything, and they tried looking for bike guy, but couldn't find him. They even came to our house and dusted the garage for fingerprints. There was nothing missing from our garage. My mom was

more pissed that this guy was in her garage, one open door away from her kids and their friends. Yeah, seriously. I'd be pissed. Eventually, bike guy was caught by police for breaking into another garage and stealing power tools. What my mom thought was a 16-year-old boy turned out to be a 49-year-old man who had a murder charge. What? From a domestic dispute where he stabbed and killed a man. Oh, my God.

He pled guilty to manslaughter and served 15 years in state prison for that one. How is stabbing somebody manslaughter? Exactly. After he was arrested, the police contacted my mom to identify. the man out of a picture lineup. Even though she only saw his eyes, she picked his photo right away. The police asked her if she was 100% sure and she said, I'm 95% sure. The police couldn't use her ID if she wasn't 100% sure, although she later found out she

chose the right picture. That's a lot of pressure. That's a lot of pressure. Like I give her applause for saying like, I'm pretty sure, but I don't know. Because she could have just said 100%, but she was smart to be truthful. Yeah. Luckily, they were able to connect him with the burglars. with the tools they found in his possession.

Over a span of eight months, he committed 16 burglaries by going into garages and stealing tools that he could sell. He claims he chose the neighborhood because, quote, the people could afford to live in a larger home so they can afford to replace a tool. Oh, yeah, because what's mine is yours. Yeah, it's not yours. What the fuck? Apparently, he couldn't find work after being released from prison, but I would assume that

could happen when you literally stab a man to death and are convicted of manslaughter. But what do I know? You know what I know. know. About a year or so later, my mom got a subpoena to appear in court for the hearing. They needed my mom's testimony because they had him for burglary. But because he grabbed her phone from her hand, they could charge him with assault as well. There were about 25 people there, many of which were victims of this guy's burglaries. They waited about an hour and a half at the courthouse for the guy to even be brought in. He ended up pleading guilty and got time served for the

two-ish years he spent in jail waiting for the trial. Wow. So remember, remember when my mom thought about hitting him with her minivan, but her true crime love her brain said don't do it. Good thing she didn't, because this loser liked to pretend to have medical problems. Oh my God. He claimed he was having a heart attack when he got arrested and was taken to the hospital,

and they said he was completely fine. So his ass was carted off to jail. Then the day of his trial, he was an hour and a half late to court because he claimed he slipped and fell that morning in his head. Again, he was examined and was totally fine. I'm sure if my mom would have bumped him with her car, he would have tried to sue her or something.

Oh, yeah. My mom said this debacle taught her to think a bit before jumping into action. So friends, that is the story about how my tiny, feisty mom chased a convicted murderer in her minivan. I touched an article about the guy for your reading pleasure. Took out my mom's last name. Keep being amazing. My, oh my. Brianna.

Your mom is a badass. Ugh. Like a true badass. This man. Damn. Just looks like a turd. Wow. Good for your mom.

That is terrifying. But what a mom. Yeah, seriously. Your mom is a mom. And just finding out later that he was a convicted murderer. Yeah, that's terrifying. That was in your garage near your children. And he, like, touched you, like taking the phone out of her hands.

Like, oh, that's terrifying. No, thank you. All right. I got Listen to Tales. I was kidnapped by a lazy cheap skate who also took my Ticktacks. Damn. I would be so upset if that happened to me. All right.

Hello, hello. to the awesomest true crime duo to exist. Oh my goodness. Thank you. Oh my goodness. That was a wonderful beginning. That was. I have long since wanted to write and tell you my listener tale, but unfortunately, I'm always hit with the chronic bouts of procrastination. I feel you. Same. I have attached the putifa, and it's double spaced for your reading comfort and pleasure. Let's take a breather before I go on rambling. L.O.L. My name's Gary. Not really, but it is my ear name during my time as a DJ. And I'm from the Philippines. I love that. Not really. I do love listening to True Crime and I found yous in my recommendations

list on Spotify and I've been hooked since. You guys have been keeping me company for months, especially while my sis, cousin and I were locked, aka quarantine for a month and a half in our rooms after a scare of the vid. Oh man. I love that you called it the vid. The vid. Anywho, my tale of woe and adventure was during the days of yonder when I was a wee lass of six vacationing with my family, minus my dad because he stayed home for work. I was kidnapped during this trip. Oh. And well, this story is not a woozy, but it's not as woozy. But darn it if I didn't stay in my effing mind for decades. Oh my God. For some reason, I have very vivid memories of this event. For some reason. Probably because it was traumatizing. Yeah, I would say so. I apologize in advance if I

sound unhinged. No way. No. I submitted my body to a diabetes-inducing level of sweets. to get a sugar high so that you ladies won't be bored with my tail after graciously picking it for listener tail. Oh my God, I love you. If you did. Thank you. You're welcome. Side note, my sister hates it whenever I do get a sugar high, so she's going to kill me for this. Oh, well, sis, sila-e-e-lo-e. I couldn't say that. You know, I know how to say that, but like looking at it, I was like, how do I say that? Salé-a-sale. Just got drunk really fast. Just remember the Be Witch song. Oh, girl. That's a jam. I love. Say lovey. Say you will, say you won't.

I don't want to get to what I do. Okay, I'm going to stop. Okay. Again, this happened during our vacation in Manila, where my mom's sister lives. We're from the southern part of the country in a smaller city. A bit of background. Sheesh, this never-ending intermission. Sorry, ladies.

Never be sorry. No, it's okay. I'm from a Chinese Filipino family. My grandparents from both sides moved here from China to escape the war. There's this common misconception in the future. Philippines, that if you're Chinese, then you're loaded. I didn't know that. I didn't either. This stems from the fact that a lot of big successful businessmen here are like 80 to 90% Chinese Filipino. Of course, it doesn't apply to everybody.

At most, I would say, we're upper middle class. During one of our outings, we went to this mall where all they have are stalls and stalls of cheap items like costume jewelry, clothes, bags, et cetera. We call them tainga. Right. I love. I love it. I love it. I love. like it. Tyanga. There were my mom, aunt, their sister-in-law and her kids, my cousins, a teen mom. A teen mom. You moved,

so I went to look at you and when I, I had already read teen and saw mom, when I looked back from the upper line. A teen mom. A teen mom from season two. A teen cousin and my second sister's nanny. Mine stayed with my other sisters since she was sick at the time. When we arrived, my six-year-old

brain was like, remember all the things that you see. So I did take note of where the car dropped us off, which entrance we used down to the location of the escalator. On the way up, right in front of the set escalator, was a shop that sells plushies, and my eyes zeroed in on a giant Hello Kitty plush. Yeah, it did. I went into the store staring at it as if I was mesmerized. Who doesn't love a huge plushy? I love a huge plushy to this day. Oh, yeah. My mom is the typical Asian mom that never gives us any, that never gives us anything nonsense, aside from the occasional rewards. I get it, but at that time, as long as they were within distance, I'd always inch my way to the store and just stare at the darn thing. I grew up under a strict

mom, so I know I had to stay close or else, L.O.L. When we finally moved on far enough, I just went with them. My older cousin, 17 female, gave me a pack, bottle of whatever of Tic Tacs to make me feel better. A few minutes later, my aunt told her to buy more for the rest of the kids. There were five kids. and my seven-year-old sister was the eldest. I told my cousin I wanted to go with her. I was getting bored out of my mind then, apparently. Apparently, though, she didn't hear me and went on walking way too fast for my short kitty legs to move.

I eventually lost her in the crowd, and I was stranded in front of the effing hello kitty store. I didn't feel panicked, but I started to look around to go back to the group. Then suddenly, I saw this man walking as if on a mission toward me. He grabbed my hand firmly and pulled me toward the escalator, Before y'all roast me, Stranger Danger was not hammered in our head since we lived in a small city, and we were always monitored pretty hard growing up. Yeah, and you're six.

Yeah. Like, whoa. And like, by monitored pretty hard, they mean no sleepovers at friends or outings either. We were also picked up to and from school, and Stranger Danger was expected from us as if it was common sense. We're not going to teach you. We're just going to expect that you know it. Right. Back to kidnapper dude.

As he was pulling me out, he kept saying he was bringing me to the mall security stage. as there was a woman there who just reported that she had her jewelry stolen and the jewelry matched the ones that I was wearing. What an asshole? This six-year-old little baby and he's like, you stole jewelry. Ew. On the spot processing was and still is not my very strong suit. And at the time, it made sense to me.

Mind you, Mr. Kidnapper doesn't look like a creeper at all. He was well dressed, either in his late 20s or early 30s. He asked me then the name of my parents, my adjuncts. address and phone number. I think that was when the dumb bum pooper realized that the dumb bum pooper realized I'm not from the capital city, but from one of the provincial cities way south. If you didn't know, the Philippines is an archipelagic. Yes, there you go. Archipelagic country with three major islands. Now I just want to say I think that's how you say it. I just mean like you did it.

Archipelago? Because it's an archipelago. I can't. Hold on. Yeah, it's an archipelago. Yeah, archipelago, right? Yeah, I think it is. I had to, like, go through in my head, archipelago. What's the other one that starts with P? Not peninsula.

Is it what the, Pangaea? Oh, that. It just made me think of it. I was like, what? Land. Land. I was like, wait, what?

You're like, where are we? Where are we? Where are we? We're on an archipelago. Well, anyways, the kidnapper. If he did have plans to get ransom money, he would have to at least make a long distance call or maybe travel there. Mind you. My,

mine donna no, I think, back, sorry, back then was, well, let's just say there's a lot of boom, boom pow happenings in a few regions. I got that boom, boom, boom, pow. That's amazing. That's great. We got out of the building and went in the one right next to the first. He pulled me in a dark entrance with a short corridor with what I think was, what I think now was the passageway for the disabled. He told me to stay there that he would ask the lady at the station, if my stuff was hers and asked me to take off my jewelry, my favorite necklace with a tiny gold dog pendant and a ring that wasn't even real. He apparently didn't see my earrings. My hair managed to cover them. My mother later told me that it was the only jewelry that was actually

valuable. So you got on him. At that time, I didn't feel an ounce of fear at all. I cry pretty easily, but I was a calm, quiet kid most of the time, and I was taught that nonsense crying was not to be tolerated. Before he left, this heartless sewage of a man took my tick-tacks with him. The nerve! Oh my God. Literally took candy from a baby. Yes, that's what you did. Yeah.

Well, not really a baby, but you get it. Yeah, it makes sense. I get it. You were a baby. You were. He then left me there alone with only my face towel on me. I kept twisting the tag until it came off. I now have bouts of anxiety here and there, and I think that's where it started.

Yeah. I would say so. I would say so. My mind just zeroed in on the fact that he took my TikToks, and I started crying. Oh my God, I want to give you a hug. I do too. Not that I would not be able to see my family again or about being kidnapped or trafficked. No, I cried because of the freaking stupid TikToks.

Oh, because you were a baby. Yeah, it's your most prized possession. Yeah. I could only stare at the end of that corridor where unsuspecting people just went on about their day shopping. While here I was, a kid left a banded in a darkened effing corridor. My goodness. A security guard then walked by the entrance and managed to see me. I think he thought that I was with somebody and he didn't do anything. It wasn't until he passed by the second time that he approached me and asked if I was alone. Honestly, I don't know how I communicated at the time since I spoke in a dialect and I wasn't sure if he was able to speak Filipino at that age. Or excuse me, I don't know if I was able to speak Filipino at that age. I think I managed to tell him how I came to be there. He held out his hand to me and told me that he'd bring me to his manager. We came out of that corridor into a drugstore just beside it. He called his manager who was this nice, kindly man.

He asked me what happened, and I told him that I came with my family, and they're in the other building. He asked if I remembered the way, and I said, yes. He and the guard who found me escorted me back to the building. I then pointed to the escalator and told them we used it. Just as we were about to reach the top, I saw my family by a burger stall. There was a few shouting, but I couldn't hear it since my eyes zeroed in on my sister and cousins eating at the said burger stall, nary a care that I was missing.

GER! I mean, honestly, right? Right. Right. Anyway, kind manager guy and the guard talked to my mom and aunt. They said that they sent out a PA, but unfortunately, that could only be heard by the building and not the next one. My mom then asked me questions that confused me at the time, like if the guy touched me

or if he took my underwear. She was very much relieved when I said no. They thanked the manager and the guard, and we heard. left them all, and they didn't even get me a burger. Since nothing truly bad happened to me, they started to joke around to probably distract me away from possible trauma. During dinner, my mom told us that she was praying behind that burger stall, and just as the word amen left her lips, I popped up on that escalator, red-faced from a stolen

tic-tac, but otherwise fine. Oh, I love that. Oh, I know. If I wasn't an answered prayer, or excuse me, if that wasn't an answered prayer, I don't know what is. I guess I'm lucky I was kidnapped by a lazy guy who couldn't be bothered to make a long distance call to make ransom demand. Thank goodness. For real. What a terrible human. Yeah. I'm just so... Like, what the hell were you going to do, you piece of shit?

Yeah, seriously. I'm really mad that he stole you and then literally took your candy. And then just left you there. And just like, all alone. Like, this guy just went about his day. Yeah. Like, what a piece of shit? How do you just, that's the other thing? Like, what do you do after that? Yeah. Like, you just go to Wendy's? Like, like, fuck, dude. You're the worst. Like, get, get fucked. For a few years after that, they believed that I walked away from them to go back to that hello kitty place. It's frustrating that they wouldn't believe me when I say I did not. The day after the incident, my aunt brought us girlie's hello kitty plushies, and of course, mine was the most special one.

I love it. Oh, and a few things to add, there was a lot of kidnappings of Chinese Filipinos during that time. I was a second generation kidnappy. Whoa. My uncle was first, and his experience was more of a doozy. Oh, no. I also have a few more stories to share, like when I had a stalker for years, or when there was literally a real-life call-of-duty scenario outside of our house, and I was more pissed that they woke me up than the fact that they were in a gunfight with semi-automatics. Oh.

Anyway, there's a lot of nitty-gritty tales from my city, probably why murder doesn't really faze me much anymore. L.O.L, fortunately, the crime rate went down by a lot these past few years. Hey, silver lining. Awesome. And then they gave us a ton of suggestions from the Philippines, which we are definitely going to look into. Thank you. Oh, and I will attach an extra spooky tale by my ex-boyfriend's teammate while I listened in real time the screams and yells of the other guy as it was happening. Whoa. Okay. P.S. I'm so sorry about Bailey Elena.

Oh, thank you. I've lost dogs in the past and the pain of losing a beloved baby is truly heartbreaking. Very true. Thank you for that. I'm attaching the photo of me at the time of the kids. kidnapping and one of our new German Shepherd puppies to make you smile today. We plan to sell a few, but we all got attached, especially my mom, even if she won't admit it, and we're keeping them all. For now, take it away, Lady Ash. Keep it weird, but not so rare that you kidnap a child and take their kid, their TikToks,

especially a freaking adorable little, oh my goodness. You are so fucking cute. You are so cute. Oh my God, your little hair with like your scrunchies. And your little bangs. You're adorable. Oh, and I love your earrings. I'm glad. I hope those are the ones you got to keep. Also the puppies. Oh, my goodness. So freaking cute. Wow. The fact that it's... That title really did just lay it out. I was kidnapped by a lazy cheapskate who also took my tic-tacks. Like, what the fuck? Man, I'm glad you got out of there

because you're adorable and hilarious. Yeah. So this next one is called The Time My Fat Cats Got Got Me Out of a Sticky Situation. I did pre-read this. one, and I do just want to give you guys like a little trigger warning, this one does involve like an attempted sexual assault. Okay. Thank you for telling us that. It does. All right.

Yeah. Well, this one says, hi, I love you guys so much and you get me through long days of massaging. Yep, I'm a massage therapist. Can you come to my house? Please. And I listen to you to talk about serial killers and whatnot while I'm giving someone a peaceful massage. Don't worry.

I wear my AirPods. I will be changing names for safety. because I'm paranoid. I feel you. My name is Stevie and I'm from Arizona. Don't worry. That's not a real name. 100% believe in everything's supernatural and have many experiences. So let me know if you want to hear some of those. We do. We do. We always, always do. If you want to send in like a 10-page document with all your listener tales, it could just be your listener tale. Oh, yeah. We can just make it your listener tale. We did that with Bradley. So there you go. But unfortunately, this story is not supernatural. So sorry to disappoint. Hold on to your bud.

This is about the time my fat cats got me out of quite the pickle. I love a fat cat. It was 2019 and my 22nd birthday was coming up. My parents have a pretty nice house with a pool table, a huge deck, axe throwing, and a fireplace on a huge piece of land with chicken and bees. I love that. Talking about axe throwing. I love that.

They're a trip. They sound like a trip. I know. But needless to say, their house is usually the party house. My parents were out of town for my birthday, so I asked if I could still have a small party at their house and they were okay with it. Yay. I invited my friends and told them all that they could bring a friend or two if they wanted. One of my good friends whom I've known for years, Brittany, brought about five friends, which I was okay with because again, she was a good friend.

We're going to have to pause because a lawnmower is going by. And I figured anyone associated with Brittany is a good seed. Uh-oh. I was sadly mistaken. I saw that coming a mile away. Oh, no. Brittany, what did you do? One of the guys she brought, shall be named Ascent. I've met ass hat once before briefly. He seemed fine, nothing out of the ordinary stuck out about him. He actually seemed kind of sweet and shy. Oh, so we're all partying and having a good time until about 2 a.m. We've all been drinking, but nothing crazy. Nobody was blacking out, throwing up, nothing. Including me. I only had a few cups of some weak jungle juice that I tried to make and a couple beers. Taking me back. So I definitely wasn't incoherent, but I wasn't sober. Anyway, the party is winding down and people

are starting to leave. I was sitting in a chair right by the front door, saying my goodbyes and thank you to everyone who came. I like that you were just sitting in a chair. That's amazing. Rad. Like that's like queen shit. Yeah, you're like, thanks for coming. Yeah, thank you for coming. The last people to leave were my best friend and her boyfriend. They stayed while I got ready for bed. Once I was ready, they left. I saw everyone leave. I go lay in bed and call my ex, Nate, for a late night tipsy, blah, la, la, la, la, for a late night tipsy chit-chat. I know, I know, I'm dumb.

You're not. We've all been there. But let's be honest, we've all been there. We get it. Everybody's been in that mode. This detail is important to note because I was lying on my right side, but my phone was on my left ear. So I couldn't really hear anything going on in the house. I was

home alone. The door to my room was ajar about a foot wide. As I lay on my right side, I'm facing the door. Right as I hang up the phone, I see ass hat walk past my room. But you saw everybody leave? I would shit my pants. He walked from the right to the left. The only thing to the right of my bedroom is another bedroom and a bathroom. He was walking away from those rooms and toward the front door. I thought maybe he was in the bathroom getting sick while everyone

was leaving and now he's just barely leaving. But I didn't hear the front door open and close. I didn't hear him leave. I immediately felt uneasy. I texted Nate. As hat is still here. I don't know why. Nate is asking a ton of questions that I don't know the answer to, and I know what you're thinking. Why didn't Nate come over? Because he was in Vegas six hours away. Oh, no. I was thinking that too. I was like, Nate, come on over.

X or not. Come over. This is where the trigger warning is sexual assault and attempted rape. Next thing I know, asshat enters my room, stands at the foot of my bed and begins to take his shoes off. I sit up in bed and say, what are you doing? Good one, Stevie. that's all you could think to say? He responds, shh, you're fine, you're fine, lay back down.

Those words still haunt me to this day. My mind was running a million miles a minute trying to figure out what I should do. I laid back down, turned on to my side and pretended to be asleep slash very drunk. I thought maybe this would deter him from trying to have sex with me because at this point, I didn't think he was actually going to try to force himself onto me. He climbs into bed with me and starts to spoon me. I'm still lying there hoping he's just going to fall asleep. or something, I don't know.

Then he starts touching me all over. I won't go into too much detail, but I squeezed my thighs shut with my hand, cupped over my hoo-ha to try to stop him from getting his hand into my underwear. And I said, stop and no. He was getting more aggressive and was kissing on my neck and ear.

Gross. It's like, as somebody is sitting there saying, stop and no, you're still continuing to kiss their night. Like, what about that? You're a rapist. Like you're fucking disgusting. Yes, you're a rapist. Then I remembered I had my phone under my leg.

I slid it out and tried to dial 911 without him seeing, but that didn't work. He noticed me dialing and pushed my phone out of my hand and onto the floor. Shit, what do I do? I was afraid to start fighting because he could overpower me easily. What if that makes him mad and he murders me or something? As we all know, that shit happens. And honestly, like, if he's willing to do this and go this far, that is. scary. You're like, if you're willing to do this, what else are you willing to do? Like, you,

you are a scary human being. Absolutely. By the way, all the stress and adrenaline running through my body sobered me right up. I bet. I keep mentioning that I was not drunk in this situation because nothing is more infuriating than when I tell this story and the first thing out of someone's mouth is, well, were you drunk? I know you two angels would never ask that, but some people do. It's like, what about this? Why is that pertinent to the story, even if she was drunk? That wouldn't even factor into my brain. He crawled into bed with her. So even if she was drunk, that actually makes it worse somehow. Honestly. And she said, no. Yeah. Stop. So that doesn't matter. No more questions to ask. That's it. So my phone just got thrown onto the floor and I don't know how to get out of this situation.

My dad has a gun safe in the living room, but how do I get to it? More importantly, how do I get to it without ass hat following and possibly getting a gun before I do? I had no idea what this guy was capable of. But I knew if he was willing to do this, he was willing to probably willing to do other terrible things as well. What's crazy is I haven't read this, but you and I are just like thinking the same thing. Possibly because like a similar situation happened to me. And I remember thinking these exact same thoughts. Yeah. So that's really weird that these are coming out because it's like I will. You can tell that this is where my fat cats come into play. Don't worry. They know they're fat. And they like it that way. During the party, I'd lock them in the back room with food, water and a litter box,

we had the back doors open and I didn't want them escaping. Also, I knew some people were allergic to cats, so it was best that they keep their distance for the night. Well, while Ashat was trying to force himself onto me, I heard my cats in the room ready to be let out. This was my chance. I didn't know if it was going to work, but I had to try. I said, let me let my cats out, shoved him off me, speed walked out of the room, opened the door for my cats, L.O.L. Why did I actually let them out? Then ran to the gun safe. By the grace of God, I remembered the code to the safe. I haven't put the code in in years. I punched it in lightning speed.

I surprised myself. I reached for the first gun I saw, pulled it out, turned around, and I was bringing the gun up just in time for him to turn the corner and be met with the barrel of my mama's gun. Fucking badass. You chose the wrong bitch, bitch. Keep in mind that all this happened in a matter of like 10 seconds. It all happened so fast. So there I am in my underwear and a t-shirt, pointing a gun between this guy's eyes, straight out of a movie. And this motherfucker puts his hands up and says, whoa, are you serious?

I'd be like, are you? I don't know, man. Do I look serious? So I say, yeah, I'm serious. Get the fuck out of my house. He goes back into the room to grab his things and I stay there frozen, waiting for him to come back out. He comes back and starts walking against the wall towards the front door, trying to stay as far away from me as possible. I followed him with the gun still pointed at him all the way to the door.

He opened it, turned around, and said, I'm sorry. Yeah, I bet the fuck you are. He closed the door, got in his truck, and left. I immediately locked the door. Once I heard him start to drive away, that's when it set in what had just happened. I started bawling, like scream crying. I've never cried so hard in my life, and I didn't stop crying for hours and hours. I don't blame you.

I don't either. To the point where I wasn't even crying anymore. tears were just coming out of my eyes. I didn't know that was even possible. It's so weird how our bodies work. I wasn't even scared or shaky as I pointed the gun at him. I just did it. My body just kind of took over and said, this is what we're doing. It was total fight or flight situation, and I chose fight. So I just kind of sat on the couch crying for a minute and thought, okay, what now? I mean, really, what do you do after that? Go back to sleep? I don't think so. No way. All I knew was that I didn't want to be alone. So I called my best friend to to tell her to come back. She came back and turned her 30-minute drive into a 15-minute drive. I don't know how, but I'm glad it was the middle of the night so no other cars were on the road. She got to my house and I tried telling her what happened in between my tears. I remember saying, I pointed a gun at him, I pointed a gun at him over and over. She stayed the night with me and I tried to sleep, but I couldn't. Anytime I began to nod off, I would hear something and spring up out of bed.

I did sleep for over 36 hours after that. I think the only reason I finally did fall asleep. was, oh, excuse me, she didn't. I was like, uh-uh. First thing, I was like, damn, that's a long time. I didn't sleep for over 36 hours after that, and that sucks. Yeah. I think the only reason I finally did fall asleep was because my body physically couldn't stay awake anymore.

Probably. The next morning, I texted my mom what happened. She told me to go to the police. Dude, Stevie, why didn't you call the police last night after he left? Because I was in shock. I literally just, just didn't think about it. So I went and made my statement. It was so painful to tell my story and relive the events, but I wanted asshat behind bars. Unfortunately, I had to tell my story to the

police several times, which sucked. But what really sucked was the police asked me to do a confrontation call with ass hat. Oh, are you kidding me? For those who don't know, a confrontation call is when the victim calls the perpetrator while the police listen in on the phone call. I didn't know that this was a thing that happened. That's awful. The police and or detective will coach the victim on the questions to ask to try to get a confession out of the perpetrator. Now, flashback to when I made my statement. I told the officer that ass hat never left my house when all the party goers were leaving.

I told the officer that I figured Ashat had hid in the back bedroom that was to the right of my bedroom and waited until everyone left before coming out. Okay, back to the confrontation call. The detective told me to ask, why did you hide in the bedroom while everyone? was leaving. Ashat says, what? No. No, I didn't do that. What the fuck? Okay, so what did you do? Unfortunately, neither me nor the detective thought to ask that question. So we move on with the questions, and long story short, they got enough out of him during the phone call to count as a confession. Hell yeah. Thank goodness. The police arrested him. They went through the motions, and he ended up getting three years of supervised probation. Bullshit. Not exactly what I wanted him to get,

but I'm hoping it's enough to teach him a lesson. Absolutely. bullshit. So you're probably wondering, was he waiting in the bedroom or not? I was wondering that. Well, a few days after the confrontation call, I went to my parents see that my parents at their house. They take me outside to show me that there are handprints on almost all of the windows around the house.

Ashat started at the front of the house, checking every window to see which one was unlocked so he could break in. It's so frustrating that, like, you didn't know this before, because then he could gotten a break-in charge. In the fact that he acted like, what? No, I didn't wait in the bedroom. I didn't wait in the bedroom. I didn't wait in the bedroom. I crawled through a window. I broke into your home. I just home invaded. That's all. Unfortunately, the last window he checked, the window in the back bedroom was unlocked. That's how he got in. I told the detective, she went out to my parents' house and she checked it out,

but not much came of it. Not sure why, to be honest. I have a protective order against him. I also received a phone call from the police department telling me that he broke his probation several times. I asked what he did and they said, I don't know, you'd have to contact his probation officer. So I said, okay, can I have their number? They replied very rudely with, honey, we're just the police department. We don't have his PO's number. You'd have to call ass hat and ask for his PO's number. Oh, yeah. I'm at cool. Hi. Remember that time when you assaulted me and you're on probation about now? Can I am have your probation officer's number? Real quick. Thank you so much. Like he's going to give you a real fucking number. I'm sorry. First of all, how am I supposed to know that?

Second, you want me to call up the man who broke into my house and tried to rape me and ask him for his P.O. number? I couldn't believe it. The system is broken. Needless to say, I never found out how he broke his probation. His probation is up in December, which makes me very nervous. Hopefully he's smart enough to just stay away. Oh, I'm sorry. Anyway, thank you for reading my listener tale. Here's a few picks of my adorable cats. White one is calf-free. I call him calf. Great one is Enzio. Love you guys so much. Remember that fresh air is for dead people and to always lock your doors and windows. Keep it weird. Take it away, Ash.

Not so weird that these aren't your cats because these are so, these cats are so fucking cute. These are precious cats, I will say that. I'm obsessed the way he's holding your widow. And those cats saved you. They saved you. They saved you because they needed to come out. I am so sorry that you went through that. That's horrific.

It's absolutely terrible. I hate that you had to go through that. I hate that you had to retell the tale a million times. And I hate that you have to deal with it in December. I know, seriously. I'm so sorry, but thank you for sharing it with us. Yeah, thank you so much. I can't imagine having to live through an experience like that and then have the guts to, like, tell it all over again.

Yeah, seriously. All right, I think we've got time for one more listener tale. One more. And we're going to do listener tale. Yeaded from a fatal crash by an angel, I prayed with my dad's killer. Wow. Holy canoli. Holy canoli is right.

Holy guacamole. Holy guacamole. It says, hey, spooky booze. obligatory gushing before the story. I, L-O-V-E, you two. I've been listening to Morbid for years, and I am so excited and, uh, re-l-l-l-l-l-l-R-W-Brew. I broke. And I am so excited to have so many new episodes coming out so frequently. Y'all are hashtag killing it. Thank you. I work from home, so listening to you gals makes me feel less lonely. Thanks for keeping me company. I've laughed, cried, gotten chills, and cringed with you through so many cases and stories. I smile and gush whenever I

I see wedding prep posts or mash on Insta. Thanks. And I squealed when I got my projected shipping date for my pre-ordered The Butcher and the Red. Yay. Which you can buy at The Butcher and the Ren. No. Oh my God. Tiny Hrall.com slash The Butcher and The Reden or a Kroger, Target, or Walmart or BJ's or Costco question mark near you.

Yeah. Costco? Yeah. You're absolutely. Sure. Why not? I don't know, to be honest. But she's in airports.

Why not? Read her while you're over the horizon. My uncle found it in Ireland. What? Yeah. He did? Yeah. They found it in Ireland.

That's so fucking rap. Wow. Well, I have attached my list and a tail as a PDF double-spaced. It's long, but I won't apologize because I know you won't shorten it. But if you need to, feel free. Hell yeah. You're the best. I would like not to have my name shared.

If any of my real friends hear the story, they will know that it's mine, and that's fine. But, you know, I think I've omitted all the names in my story. Whatever there is fair game. Thanks for keeping company. My God. You're okay. Thank you for keeping me company and keeping it weird. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you for listening to me. Break. Malfunction. All right. So the listener

tale starts off with. I recently listened to the Justice for Katie Palmer episode and finally felt like I had something relatable to share. When I was 15, my parents and I were in a horrific car accident. That same day, I returned home from church camp and we went to dinner with my parents' best friends. I've worked very hard to stop beating myself up about blaming myself. If I had just said I was too tired to go out, we could have stayed home and nothing would have happened. But that's you can't do that to yourself you cannot it's so easy to do but you don't need to do that no we went back to their house to watch a movie after dinner and left just before midnight we drove a dodge caravan with the bench seats in the back half row in the middle see diagram my dad was driving my mom riding shotgun and for some reason

i decided to sit on the floor beside the half bench and lean my head on the seat like nap time in class remember it was midnight and i'd been traveling all day so i was tired as we got in i heard my day or my dad buckle his seatbelt. My adolescent brain equated his need for safety to my own. So typically whenever he would buckle, I would too. But this night, I didn't. And it may have saved my life. Read, it definitely did. My brain said, it'll be fine. You don't need to get in the backseat and buckle. Just relax. We'll be home soon. It should also be noted that the half bench had my baby brother's car seat pushed next to the seat next to the window, not strapped in because he was studying with my grandma. Staying. I was like, he was studying.

Baby brother was studying. He was staying with my grandma Grams that night. I dozed off and the next thing I knew, I heard an earth-shattering crunch. Opened my eyes to see the lights of a waffle house sign going around like a tilt-a-whirl and then blackness. That's horrifying. Oh, my God. When I came to, I could smell the powder from the airbags and see smoke. I could see my parents in the front seat. My dad slumped over onto my mom's side, both silent. Oh, goodness. I sat up and and I tried to shake my dad awake, but he didn't respond. I audibly heard, he's not breathing, you need to get out. I stood up and remembered being eye-level with the cup holders. Our van was on its side. Here is where the seatbelt likely would have killed me if I'd been strapped in. Wow.

I would have been crushed by the car seat and pinned to the asphalt. Next thing I knew, I was standing in the middle of an intersection surrounded by first responders screaming about getting a fire extinguisher because our van had flames coming from the engine. I was certainly dazed and obviously in a shock. A police officer approached me and asked where I'd come from. I told him I was in that car. My parents are in there. He looked confused, but ushered me to the side of the road so that I was out of harm's way. Asked if I was hurt, but I couldn't be sure at this point. Later, I heard this officer say that there was a mist that came over the scene, and when it cleared, I was just standing in the middle of the road. Whoa. As I'm standing there, in the grass in front of a gas station, there are people

all over the place. Safe to say, I'm losing my damn mind. I'm screaming. and shouting prayers to save my family and help us. I hit my knees and was sobbing. And then this man approaches me, looking just as shocked as I was and saying he's so sorry. He was trying to calm me down and I asked if he'd just pray with me. That was the only thing I could think to do. Everything was so chaotic. I was leaning on my faith to pull me through. Eventually a victim's advocate came and took me into a patrol car to ask for all of our information. By some miracle, my 15 year old, oh my God, you were 15. 15. Your baby. Oh. By some year ago, my 15-year-old self was able to calmly tell her our names, dates of birth, address, and emergency contact information. My baby brother was 18 months old and he was staying with my grandma. She was glad to hear this because the fireman had been looking for a baby since the car seat was empty. Oh, my goodness. I can't imagine. I told my, excuse me, I told them to call my uncle for my dad and my other grandma for my mom, not to call my grams because she had the baby and I didn't want her to worry. She stayed with me until the fire was out and then.

the ambulance had arrived for me. Once I was in the ambulance, I succumbed to the shock and I blacked out. When I came to, I was in the emergency room with my aunt and uncle around my bed. I wasn't sure what they were doing there since I had told the police to call them to go with my dad. The victim's advocate was there as well. She never left my side. I wish I could remember her name, but her face will stay with me always. They took me for a CT to be sure that I didn't have any internal injuries, but aside from a broken finger, a goose egg on my head from the unlatched car seat and some scrapes and bruises. I was all right. A miracle considering that I lost my shoes somehow in the car and apparently climbed up and out of the vehicle and walked across an entire crash scene.

Oh my God. This is like horrifying. When I was cleared, she looked at my uncle if he wanted to say it or if, oh sorry, or if she should. That's when I knew that something was wrong. My dad was killed on impact. And my mom had been taken by helicopter to the next town's trauma center and was barely hanging on. I'm so sorry. I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. My aunt called us and let us know that she was there waiting for her. That brought me comfort that my mom wasn't alone. I heard scuffling and arguing outside my curtain, and apparently it was the driver of the truck that struck us. I wanted to run out of my bed and throttle him. Oh, I just learned my dad died and the man responsible was just out of reach and the heart monitor let the nurses know that I knew. My uncle apparently did too, but he was more concerned with my safety.

little did I know excuse me little did I know it it was the shell-shocked man from the scene oh my whole body just got chills mine just did that like

warm I was discharged and we went to my grandmas to deliver the devastating news I remember my baby brother running to me and I just held on

oh my God hold on to him and sobbed thanking God that he wasn't with us that he was still here crying because he'd never get to know

our amazing dad and worrying about my mom and not knowing if we were about to be orphaned oh my goodness After I got cleaned up, I pulled out the phone book and started calling all of my dad's friends I could think of to let them know what happened. We'd been teaboned by a drunk driver. I was all right, but my mom was barely hanging on and my dad was killed on impact.

Yes. 15 years old, sitting in the kitchen with a phone book calling my dad's friends to deliver this news to him. Oh. The impact of that is just hitting me as I'm typing this. I'm so sorry for the trauma that caused hearing about your friend's death from his daughter. Oh my God, you know, I was literally about to say like, oh, like, ooh, seriously. All of that, but man, you like stepped up. Wow.

We went to visit my mom, and on the way there, my uncle asked if my dad liked the song that was playing. I said, yeah, why? He said, he must be here because the radio just turned itself up. The lyrics are, there ain't no place I'd rather be next to you sitting next to me. Oh. I took comfort in that. that he was there with me and always would be. Oh, my God.

Oh, no, geez. My mom was in terrible shape, but she pulled through, unfortunately, with lifelong damage. She has a massive road rash scar on her arm to remind her of that terrible night for the rest of her life, as well as brain damage-induced seizures and memory loss. Oh, I'm so sorry. I am too. The pond scum that hit us that allowed me to clutch onto him and cry to the Lord to save my family, was drunk and doing it.

Oh, that makes me so. So fucking angry. And doing 80 in a 45. Oh my God. He blew through a red light striking us as we attempted to make a left-hand turn across the intersection. That infuriates me. Not only did this motherfucker get drunk and get into a vehicle, but then proceeded to go 80 miles in a 45. Wow. Wow. He was taken to the hospital to get blood drawn for the BAC. It was about 0.164 over double the legal. limit in Florida. He also had drug paraphernalia in his vehicle. He was not charged with vehicular manslaughter. Are you kidding me? What? The traffic lights at the intersection were not operational on the date of our accident so they could not prove that he ran the light. He hit you. It doesn't matter. Yeah, he teabonded you and killed your father. Like, Jesus. And he, oh my God. Even with the evidence that there were zero tire marks that showed he even attempted to stop, regardless of the fact that he was going almost double the speed limit,

and we weren't even halfway through the intersection. I'm not even sure that he was arrested for DUI that night. That's wild. There was an investigation, and I identified him in a photo lineup. His face haunts me to this day. I know his name, and I've seen him be arrested for several other DUI and drug-related charges. Oh, cool. So he did this and then continued to do what he did. Yeah, because he didn't get punished at all. And continued to do it. Killed a man and walked away from it. Almost killed an entire family in one felt swoop. Like killed a man, took away somebody's father, and learned nothing from it. And then like the damage that their mom is like living through.

And just learn nothing from it. Those are the biggest pieces of shit in the world, the ones who do this shit and learn nothing. Absolutely nothing. There's been zero justice for our family. I feel for Katie's family. I know that hurt. It's not just a good old boy police mentality in this case, just a completely dropped ball. That's infuriating.

But 17 years later, we're all living our lives, trying our bus to make daddy proud. I just wish he'd have been here to walk me down the aisle to meet his granddaughter. And I know that my brother and mom's life would be completely different if he was still here. He's since been joined by my grams, and I sure am looking forward to being with them one day. Oh, I want to give you a hug. I do too. I want to give you like the biggest hug. Shout out to the victim's advocates.

They really are out there doing the most. I may not remember her name, but I remember her presence, and she helped me so much. They are amazing. She even came to my dad's funeral. I recognized her instantly, and she gave me the biggest hug, saying she couldn't believe how strong I was and had to tell me one more time that everything was going to be all right. Oh. Keep it weird, but not so weird that you drive drunk and kill a father and tried to comfort his daughter and get away with it and continue breaking the law because you're a trash human. A completely trash human.

An absolute piece of shit. Wow. That is gut-wrenching. I'm so sorry that you went through that. Man. Oh, I'm so sorry. That is so sad. That really is. I can't believe that you went through all of that. No. But you are insanely strong. You're like a warrior. The fact that at 15 years old you sat at that table and called your dad's friends with a phone book in front of you. Like you're an amazing person. Wow. Oh, I just want to give you a hug. I know. Like truly. There's so many of you on the. episode. I just want to like get you in a big group hug. I know. Jeez. But thank you so much for writing that story down and sending it to us. I know. And I hope it was like somewhat cathartic. Yeah. You know, I sometimes people say that. Yeah. Like to write it out is cathartic. Yeah. But man, like families like yours and families like Katie Palmer's, it's just so frustrating that we can't just like snap my fingers and fix it for you guys. Because it's so frustrating. It really is. Oh, that actually reminds me. We are working on bringing Katie's light to

Massachusetts. Oh, yes. If you listen to that episode. So my brother and, or my soon to be brother in law is a firefighter and his unit is going to be hanging up lights for families that have had like something happened to them. That's so amazing. I'm so excited. They already have one family. So if you're in the Massachusetts area, we're going to start working on getting it over here. Yeah, we want to get some more. You can nominate people on the page. We'll link into the show notes. We've got to spread Katie's light everywhere. Oh man, guys.

Thank you so much for sending these in. Yes. And I want to give you all a big hug. And we love you. And we hope you keep listening. And we hope you keep it weird. But not that weird. Don't be a trash human.

Think about other people and how your decisions will affect others. And if you can't do that, learn from your damn mistakes. Thank you. Bye.