Morbid - Linda Hazzard & Starvation Heights (Part 1)

Episode Date: August 4, 2025

At the dawn of the twentieth-century, major advances in science and technology brought incredible change to the field of medicine, enhancing and extending the lives of millions. Yet at the same time, a lax regulations and minimal oversight made it possible for countless medical grifters to get rich offering quack medical solutions to everything from whooping cough to cancer, sometimes at the expense of their patient’s lives.When Linda Hazzard opened her sanitarium, the Institute of Natural Therapeutics at Wilderness Heights, in Olalla, Washington in the first decade of the 1900s, she claimed her rigid fasting and elimination approach to dieting was a miracle cure for a variety of illnesses, both trivial and serious. For years, Hazzard operated what amounted to a health retreat for the wealthy, without any oversight from the state or federal agencies. In the end, Hazzard’s starvation cure resulted in the deaths of over a dozen people and her arrest and trial for manslaughter, but through all of it, she maintained it was a viable treatment—standing by her methods up until they ended her own life.Thank you to the Incredible Dave White of Bring Me the Axe Podcast for research and Writing support!ReferencesHines, Terrence. 1997. "Starvation Heights." Skeptical Inquirer.Lovejoy, Bess. 2014. "The doctor who starved her patients to death." Smithsonian Magazine, October 28.Olsen, Gregg. 2005. Starvation Heights: A True Story of Murder and Malice in the Woods of the Pacific Northwest. New York, NY: Crown Publishing Group.Seattle Daily Times. 1911. "Erdman diary tells method of treatment." Seattle Daily Times, August 14.Seattle Star. 1908. "Charged with starving eight-months-old baby." Seattle Star, January 30: 1.—. 1911. "Denies she 'fasted' 2 girls." Seattle Star, August 9: 3.—. 1911. "'Fast cure' woman is arrested." Seattle Star, August 7: 3.—. 1909. "Prosecutors think they can put a stop to starvation cure." Seattle Star, June 26: 1.—. 1908. "Sign doesn't make a doctor." Seattle Star, June 8: 6.—. 1909. "Woman starves to death under care of Dr. L.B. Hazzard." Seattle Star, June 24: 1.—. 1908. "WQeeden case leads to Dr. Hazzard's arrest." Seattle Star, January 31: 1.Tacoma Daily Ledger. 1912. "Dr. Hazzard has her first inning." Tacoma Daily Ledger, Janaury 28: 1.—. 1912. "Dr. Hazzard's trial begins." Tacoma Daily Ledger, January 16: 1.—. 1912. "Final arguments in Hazzard case." Tacoma Daily Ledger, February 3: 2.—. 1912. "Heiress testifies against Dr. Hazzard." Tacoma Daily Ledger, January 20: 1.—. 1912. "Mrs. Hazzard breaks down, and is attended by a dcevoted follower." Tacoma Daily Ledger, February 5: 1.—. 1904. "Samuel Hazzard sent to Minnesota prison." Tacoma Daily Ledger, March 16: 3.—. 1912. "Witnesses deny state's charges." Tacoma Daily Ledger, January 30: 1.—. 1912. "Woman bathed by young men." Tacoma Daily Ledger, January 23: 1.—. 1911. "Woman meet before judge." Tacoma Daily Ledger, October 22: 1.  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 Ash. And I'm Elena. And this is morbid. Morbid. Hey, everybody. Hello. We are here for a listener tale. Oh, oh, oh.

If you're listening to this, happy mother freaking Friday. Happy Friday. Happy listener tale day. 99% of the time Friday's their listener tale days. I think it's like 100 at this point. Yeah. I think one. maybe once we've thrown something different on a Friday, could happen again, who knows, but

you never know. Fridays, we do listener tales. On Fridays, we do listen our tales. We will. Forever and ever. Yeah. Until the end of time. Whoa. That would be a lot. That'd be concrete. But here we are. And I don't think there is a theme for this one. Nor. But sometimes I say that, and then a theme just emerges. That's true. That's true. We didn't really go for one, but it just happens. So let's see if that happens. Okay. Let's go off to the races with our faces. Go with our faces. So this one's called, and this is after Halloween, but Halloween listener tale, spoopy stuff, yee. We're keeping it around. Yeah, spooky season all year round. You know what I'm saying? So this one says, weirdos, I have a Halloween tale for you to share with the strange

masses. I added a PDF double space for your enjoyment. If you guys decide to read this, my head will probably explode or something. Oh, I hope it like doesn't. All right, let's see. Hi, weirdos. First of all, I want to thank you for giving me my daily dose of serotonin as I listen to your dope-ass podcast while driving to work every evening. Damn, you gave me a dose of serotonin with that. Same here.

I'm all weird and anxious, so I won't be using my real name. I feel you. I'll just go by something easy like Bob or Bill or something. Red flag number one, I am in fact a man, and for that I apologize. Red flag number two, I have never been into true crime. I must admit. But once upon a midnight dreary, I misclicked while searching podcasts and stumbled upon your Hillside Strangler case. I was hooked, damn you. Now you spooky bitches are my favorite part of my days. Wow, I love how that happened. I do too. I'm all in now. Books, movies,

cases, podcasts, all of it. I just got your book too, actually. It's fucking sick, dude. Thank you so much. Bob Bill. Might go back to Walmart and get the rest of the stock just for giggles. You're the best. Me, myself, personally, I'm I have several spooky stories in my old age of 22, but in my old age. But this tale, I have definitely not wink-wink, half-assed for you today for the first time I started for the first time I started believing in the more supernatural side of things. Back when I was a wee lad of 18, I had just completed my first year of being a firefighter and medic. I'm sure as anyone in my field can attest, when working in the kind of environment that first responders do,

you're bound to see some spooky-ass things. I can say with utmost, utmost, who cares? I never know the answer to that quest. I think it's utmost. Ut? The utmost care. I'm going to Google it while you talk. I think it's ut.

I've always thought it was ut, too. Bill Bob says, who cares? I can say with some level of certainty that things do go bump in the night. I've had a handful of head scratching occurrences while out in the fields or in the I hop past midnight. But this story I have for you, today truly is the cherry on top. I'm excited. I'm excited too, and I have a quick Google check for you.

What is it? Utmost means greatest or highest as an utmost importance or utmost respect. Up-p-p-p-p-p-most is less common cinnamon of uppermost, meaning at the top or highest in position or the utmost layer. Oh, okay. So they are two words. Two words. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. They are two words. Yeah. That's all I had.

That's all you got. Maybe if I elongate those two words that I'm going to say, it'll something will come to me, but it'll all work out in the end. You know what that makes sense? Because I always thought like the utmost part of that thing, or it is of the utmost importance. That's what I've always said. You look so comfy right now. I am very comfy right now. She stole my sweatshirt. I did. I want it now. It's really comfortable.

It looks so comfy and I'm like, I want to wear my sweatshirt now. It's the Omega Beta Zeta one. Omega Beta Zeta. This is easy. But back to the store, Rewee. So back to the store, Rearie. It was about a week before Halloween and our town was buzzing with excitement. My station was buzzing all the same.

Holidays are good for business for the fire department. I bet. Plenty of drunk teens having parties and starting fires. Needless to say, I was pretty excited to be on shift that day. We had a large volume of medical calls and one or two small. fires earlier in the day. But it was just the calm before the storm. I mean this literally, I mean this literally as around 6 p.m. it began pouring rain. I, of course, was splashing around in puddles as any sane person would be doing at 6 p.m. on a spooky fall night. Absolutely.

Suddenly alarms were going off throughout the station. Ladies and gentlemen, we had a house fire. Hell yeah. What a reaction. What you want your firefighter to say on his way to your house. Well, they're prepared. He's like, let me just do this. Because he's like, let me douse this. this shit. Hell yeah. Let me save these motherfucking people. I want that. On this particular day, I was riding the engine, so I suited up and got in my seat. On the way there, we were told that it was

a two-story house with a basement way out in the woods. A bunch of dumb-ass teenagers and college kids had gathered for a big ass party. Me being 18 at the time was a little peeved that I hadn't been invited, but it's fine. I'm not peeved or anything. I was peaved, but I wasn't peeved. Upon arrival, and I love peeved.

I do too. Upon arrival, the top level of the house was engulfed. There were drunks just sort of milling about the driveway, like a herd of inebriated zombie babies. What a fucking terrible picture to paint. They hardly even noticed the house was burning behind them. This presented a few problems. Parties typically mean a good amount of people, which means we have no idea how many are still inside the house. After a preliminary was done on the building and a tanker had been called in, tankers are full of water. We call them in because there's no hydrants out in the woods and for a fire this big, we'll need more water. It was decided we'd make entry on the first floor. One team would search the top floor and one team would take the basement. I was headed to the

basement. A quick first search was done. I don't know why I couldn't say that. It was like first. I was like, say first first. They pulled a few kids out. Most of them were around the basement steps and had been overcome by the smoke. We had so many injured that they started laying them on backboards in the yard. Oh my God. I saw a few get covered with white sheets. So much for a fun house fire. By the time I was set in for their final check, fire was ripping around the ceiling above me. We came to a hallway in the basement that led to three rooms, two on the left and one on the right. I was sent to the right. There was a large bookcase knocked over in the middle of the hallway. I didn't think much of it at the time. Parties get wild,

shit gets moved around. I threw open the door and went in, shutting the door behind me. Smoke was down to the floor, but I had a good five inches of space underneath that I could use to see. From what I gathered, the room was fairly large. It had eight or nine chairs circled up in the middle with some junk scattered around in the corners. I didn't see anyone in turn to leave. As I grabbed the door, Handel, I felt something grab my leg. It was nearly 400 degrees where I was sitting, but a shiver went down my spine. As I turned, I saw there was a young woman holding on to me with all the strengths she had. She couldn't have been more than 25. Her left arm was fully tattooed with neon pink nails.

Though through the smoke, I could see her eyes were a piercing blue. I tried to help her, but she kept pulling away. I couldn't hear her, but I could read her lips. Over and over, she said, help him. She pulled me to the far corner of the room where a tarp and some other sheets were pressed up against the wall. I pulled it back, and holy shit. There was a fucking baby doing scared baby shit, screaming up a storm.

Oh, my God. Oh, why was there a baby there during a hospital? House party. Right. Fuck. I picked up the baby and grabbed the girl's arm and started scooting my way back to the hose. I radioed out that I had victims and we needed to get out ASAP. I placed the woman ahead of me, looking back, I don't know how it never clicked that she was moving just fine. That wasn't, that she wasn't wearing a mask. She was breathing in the smoke like it was nothing. At the time, I was just happy I didn't have to carry her too. She made it to the top of the

stairs and moved out of my eyesight. A few moments later, I made it to the stairs. I realized the girl was no longer ahead of me. I had assumed she made it outside. I exited and got the baby to the medics on scene. It wasn't moving, but the medic said that they had a pulse, so it was probably going to be fine. I grabbed a new air tank and prepared to go back in when something caught my eye. There were a few more bodies covered by white sheets. Unfortunately, in situations like this, it happens. You already get disoriented with the alcohol, so add a bunch of teenagers, 1,600 degrees, no visibility, an air that will kill you. There was an arm sticking out from one of the sheets. It was very burnt compared to the last time I had seen it, but I could make out a lot of tattoos with neon pink

nails. The guys tending to all the injured and dead were standing close by, and I asked how long she'd been there. One of them said she was one of the first ones they had pulled out of the basement. What the fuck. Had I imagined it? A few days. days later, we got the full scoop in a debriefing. I learned the baby was hers. She had been at the party with her boyfriend because they wanted to go, but couldn't find a sitter. She had been in the basement when the fire broke out. In the chaos of everyone trying to get out, she was trapped in the room. I guess a bookcase got knocked over and she couldn't get the door open. So she did what any of us would do, and she took everything she had left and tried to protect her son. I guess when

they pulled her out the first time, no one checked the pile of tarp and blankets she was laying on. So she was laying on top of him trying to protect him. I hope she was given peace knowing her child was safe. My peace was getting back to the station and making some mac and cheese. Honestly, I was a little shaken by everything, but I worked through it. Spooky, scary, and bad stuff happens all the time, but I get to help a lot of people too, so it's worth it. Rest assured, I have more tales that I might send your way. Please do. Yes. Like that one time, a convicted murderer bought me a hamburger. But that's a story for another time. As always, keep it but not so weird that your girl boss your way back from the dead to get some dumbass firefighter

that you just scared half to death to save your baby because you're an absolute unit of a woman. Or do keep it that weird. I don't know, man. Bill or Bob or whatever you call me. Billy Bob. Bill Bob. The fact that this, like that's too much. Like that's too much.

That's a lot. And the fact that she was coming to tell you, like, save him. Like she was making sure her baby got out of there. Oh, and I hope that baby was okay. In the end, I assume he was, but I really hope he was. That's the thing. And also, thank you for being such a badass and for saving people's lives. For fucking real. I appreciate it. Oh, that was so heavy that made me do the warm. The warm. Like, what a badass. Yeah, an absolute unit of a woman. That was a great way of describing it.

Or real. Ooh. All right, our next one is listener tale. All I wanted was an oil change. dude. Oh, I don't think you got that. I feel like you didn't. I don't know if I can say this person's name, so let's wait. Love the pod, love the you, yada yada, boy do I have a tale for y'all. That was awesome. About two and a half weeks ago, I went to get my car's oil changed. A little info about the layout of this auto shop. It's essentially a line of three garages, open on both sides with a lobby attached. You pull into a driveway on the far right, loop around some parking spots, effectively a 180-degree turn,

and pull into one of the garages which all face the road to get your car serviced. Sorry for the detail, but it's an important picture to paint. Or it says it's an important to paint the picture. As I was pulling into the driveway, so facing away from the road, I heard a noise, but didn't think anything of it. I live in a big city, I was at an auto shop, loud noises are to be expected. I pulled around to the entrance of the first garage and rolled down my window to talk to a mechanic and explain what I needed.

With wide eyes, he said, didn't you hear that? There was just a shooting out front. What? Wow, that escalated so quickly. That happened so quickly. We both just sat there, totally unsure of what to do when a woman comes wobbling into the entrance of the first garage. It didn't take anyone there long to figure out that this was the victim and that she had been shot in the face. Wow.

Not like the bullet graced her. Like it went directly into her face. What? I will spare the gory details because I'm sure whatever gnarly mental image you've got right now is accurate. I went to the back of my car, grabbed a hockey jersey, the only thing I had in there that could potentially help, and ran over so we could use it to stop the bleeding. Luckily, some mechanics had already gotten an industrial paper towel roll and didn't need anything else. But then, I had a major, oh, shit, moment. I realized I was standing totally in front of

the open garage, and I had no idea where the shooter was. Oh, my God. I ran to hide in the lobby, but stayed near the door to watch in case they needed my help with anything until the ambulance got there. Eventually, an ambulance and hordes of lords of lids. law enforcement arrived. I found out that it had been an insane road rage incident where the victim rear-ended this guy and the asshole shot her in the face and sped off. That's why honestly, I know it's hard and I'm totally guilty of it and terrible. Don't yell at people in traffic. No, it's so true. You just because I'm guilty, like 100% guilty. You just never know who you're dealing with. I've been trying, I try to get way better at it because I'm like, I don't know who this person is. I know.

It's like that. And we shouldn't have to be the ones thinking about it, but this is a perfect example. Like, some people are like just right out there. And this is what's going to happen. Like it's so scary. It's terrifying. And it was an accident. She accidentally rear-ended this person. Right. Like this isn't even a case of like she flipped someone off and like it got to that point. It was an accident. Which even then like this stuff happens like you just like flip someone off and people will like shoot into your car. It's like what the hell? Like that's the kind of world we live in there. There was some kind of case like a few years ago where somebody beat somebody with a fucking crowbar because they like flipped them or something like that. It's wild. But it's just not even worth it. No.

Especially this. You accidentally rearend someone and you never would think that that would happen. No. I've rearended somebody once and thankfully like what. Jesus. Like she was just going about her day. A minor fender bender accident. This is what happens.

Like how many of those happen a day? Yeah. Oh my God. Since my back was facing the road at the time. of the shooting. I was the only one unaware that the shooter had flood the scene. I found out the following day that the victim survived because she's a motherfucking badass. That's right she is. But back to that afternoon. So we're all taped off in the crime scene. Cops are taking statements. And I was still in the lobby shaking and crying when one of the auto shop employees, very obviously also in shock,

comes in and says, you're the owner of a white SUV, right? I can check you out now. Wow. I sat there and off for a second because the last thing on my mind was car maintenance. Yeah. Eventually I said okay and that I had to go get my purse, which I'd left in my car in the frenzy. I step over where they had legit just mopped up a pool of blood and grabbed my purse when another mechanic looks at me and proudly states that they still fucking changed my oil, replaced my air filter and put air in my tires. Wow, that's a mechanic's shop right there. So obviously the whole thing was extremely traumatic and believe me when I say I'm going Hey, I'm on therapy right now. But I'll be damned if that ain't the most customer first attitude I've ever seen in my fucking life. I would say so. I'm deaf stressed about the fact that they

still haven't caught the guy, but I'm beyond grateful for my safety, the safety of the auto shop employees, and the fact that this insanely strong woman survived. A slight happy thing is that this past weekend, I bought a bunch of baked goods and potted in a potted plant to the auto shop to thank them for keeping their cool. And also as a, we got severely traumatized together, but here's some cookies gift. That's amazing. So anyways, sorry that this story was a mile long, but hope you liked it. Keep it weird. Love Anonymous.

Anonymous. That was wild. And I'm sorry you went through that too, because holy shit. Damn. What a thing to see. Freezy. Yeah, that was a lot. Oh, all right.

Geez. All these people just trying to like do what they normally do here. Just do regular ass things. Just doing their job. And again, maybe that's going to be the theme of this whole thing. doing normal things. Probably. Just trying to do your job as a firefighter and you get aided by a ghost. My God, for real. Just trying to be a mechanic and change someone's oil. And that happens. That's also just, oh, that first one is still sticking with me right now. I'm like, I just, oh,

I can't imagine having that experience and just being like, okay, now I have to go back to the fire station and tend to other fires. Yeah, it's like, okay, cool. Just have to go on the next call. Just experience the ghost of a woman asking me to save her baby. I know, and then you know what I just thought of? Was the boyfriend okay? I was wondering that too, actually. Like, did the baby have a parent in the end? I know, I hope so. I really hope so, too.

You guys really know how to get to the core rehearsals. The next one I am going to read is entitled. I learned to play the pipe organ in a very haunted church. That's a cool fucking sentence. That's a pretty cool sentence. Hello, Morbid Queens. I've been a listener since 2020 when we were all stud. inside and discovering our universal obsession with true crime podcast.

Can we all just like go back to being stuck inside? Like we came out and I'm like, I'll just go back. Yeah, I think we were all better off inside. But something happened while we were all inside. Oh yeah, something rotted while we were all inside. Is anyone else noticing? I mean, yeah, of course you are. Like, you can't miss it.

Everyone's just a dick. Yeah, everyone's a huge dick right now. And not even like this. Not like big dick energy. No, and not like specifically to anybody. Oh, no. Like, everyone is fucking miserable. It's wild.

But you know what? Here we are. And you know what? Can I say your name? Yeah. Cat. Cat, you say thank you for being awesome. And I say thank you, Cat for being awesome.

Thank you, Cat with a K. I grew up outside of Philadelphia in one of the most haunted counties, excuse me, in the state. Depending on which ranking list you stumble a khan. Ranking list, you stumbled a crowd. cross on Google. I have lots of stories about the spookies who reside in my town. But this is my favorite in the one I think about the most. I've included a double space putafo with my story as well as a short recording clip for you to use for reference. I love you guys. That's fun. The music is about 400 years too old to be under copyright and this is my own recording. So it's completely legal for you to use.

Yay. Thank you. All right. Let's open this puttafah. I learn to play the pipebo again. the haunted church. Thank you. One night when I was 17 and still suffering through high school, I feel that, I went over to my friend's house to hang out and watch bad movies until well after midnight. Oh, those are the good old days. We were well-behaved kids back then. Don't worry, it didn't last. And our social group was pretty straight-laced. We didn't drink, we didn't smoke, and we didn't do drugs. This is important to note because while it means that I might have been a big nerd, it also means that I was completely sober when I left my friend's house. My drive home wasn't very long. It only took about seven minutes from start to finish.

At one point along my route, I had to turn left out of my friend's neighborhood onto a main street through a five-way intersection. That sounds terrible. It's a busy intersection with weird sight lines, so everyone who knows the area takes caution when crossing over the main road, even when it's deserted in the middle of the night. I pulled up to a red light, and I remember thinking that it was especially foggy and eerie looking outside. It was about 1.30 in the morning, so no one was around. Even though it was a green light, I checked left, I checked right, and seeing that I was literally the only person on the road, I pulled into the intersection. All of a sudden, my heart sank in my stomach.

There was a small child standing right in the middle of the road. Sorry, what? He looked like a little six-year-old kid, and as my headlights illuminated him, he turned towards my car with a look of terror on his face. Our eyes met. I slammed on my brakes, but it was too late. I started crying hysterically. I just hit a child. Oh my God. I jumped out of my car and ran towards the front bumper. Nothing was there. I was shaking. I looked around everywhere under my car on the side of the

road, but I was alone. Completely unnerved, I drove home as fast as I could. Oh my God. Years later, when I was in the process of putting together my professional music career, I met a pipe organist who got me interested in playing the instrument. I just moved back to my hometown and was trying to figure out what to do with my life. And learning a new skill that could potentially land me a paying job somewhere seemed like a decent enough distraction for the time being. My parents went to the big Lutheran church that sat right on the corner of that five-way intersection, and I started taking lessons with the organist there.

He was really generous about getting me a key to the church and letting me practice there whenever I wanted to. At the time, I was teaching after-school piano lessons, so I usually didn't get done until eight or nine o'clock. I would stop by the church on my way home and settle into practice until all odd hours of night. I know, right? What a way to live out my 20s. Hanging out alone in a dark sanctuary blasting a pipe organ at full of volume. I'm clearly the coolest.

I think that's pretty fucking cool. That's pretty Phantom of the Opera view, and I'm pretty into it. I'm not going to lie. Bill was the sexton. Side note, a sexton is a very misleading job title that means groundskeeper, janitor, handyman, and all-around caretaker of the church. but it usually sounds pretty dirty when one hears sext in out of context. Church life is wild, yo.

It do be. And he asked me one day if I liked hanging out with the ghosts and the sanctuary at night. I thought maybe he was just trying to mess with me. But he swore that all sorts of weird things happen there all the time. But it's a church, I insisted. How could it be haunted? What? Girl!

I feel like that's like the most likely to be haunted. I feel like if he said it's not haunted, I'd be like, but it's a church. How could it not be haunted? There have been spirits upon spirits here. Mad dead bodies coming and going throughout those doors. Entering and leaving all the live long day. And the straight up holy spirit, I'm assuming.

That one. Her, her, that whole thing. I don't know. Wait for the lights, Bill said mysteriously. They love playing with the lights. Yeah. Okay, Bill. I love Bill.

After about a month of an uneventful late night practicing, the ghosts finally decided to make an appearance. I had been learning lots of organ music. at this point, and I decided it was time to learn one of the most recognizable pieces in the repertoire, box, to Okada, and D minor. You know, the one that goes like this. Oh, hell yeah. Like that. Yes, I was literally like playing an invisible organ as you did that. I was doing a weird dance with my stank face. Yep. You know who we are. Yeah, yep. That was great. Thank you for that, because that added to the ambiance. Amiens. Amiens.

As soon as my fingers hit that first phrase for the very first time, the lights in the front of the sanctuary flickered dramatically. I love that these ghosts were like, hell yeah, this is my shit. I have been waiting for this bach. I tittered nervously. No, that didn't just happen. Bill is definitely getting in my head. There's no way the lights just responded to bach, right? I played another few phrases.

The lights went nuts, rapidly blinking on and off, seeming to get even brighter as they flashed. Do you think that they liked it or do you think that they did not like it? I feel like they had to have liked it and they were like, uh, uh, uh, uh, because that's a bop. Yeah, they were into it. Honestly, I thought this was too funny to even be afraid at first. I feel you. This particular spirit was definitely the pumpkin spice latte basic bitch of the ghost world, fangirling all over the most famous piece of spooky organ music out there. Did you just describe me as a ghost?

That's so amazing. The lights would flicker for other pieces occasionally, but they always went crazy when I played Bach. That's cool. A musically selective ghost, apparently. I love. I love that. Maybe that was like her, his or her, like, music crush. Yeah, yeah.

Oh, they had the hots for Bach. Yeah. Love. That would be like me if you played ghost later. I'd be like, oh, yeah. Like, oh, bitch. Like, I'm going to come to your mausoleum and play ghost for you. Oh, hell yeah.

When I'm going to go crazy. Yeah. Eventually, the minister got sick of all the quote-unquote electrical problems with this particular set of lights and decided to. and decided to permanently fix the problem. Lame. Or at least attempt to. Yeah, it's good.

They had the entire front of the sanctuary completely rewired and hooked up to a brand new circuit breaker. However, the flashing lights persisted, no matter what holy utterances went on beneath them. I also had the unfortunate experience of seeing shadow people, moving around the back of the sanctuary on especially dark nights. Don't like. There was a small mirror situated on top of the organs

so that the organists could see the back of the sanctuary without turning around. Useful for processions and communion and such. I did not enjoy seeing the occasional shadowy figure moving slowly across the back of the sanctuary reflected in that mirror. Nah. Something about seeing a spirit in a mirror feels a lot more threatening to me than seeing them right in front of you. I don't know why. I feel that, though. Yeah, I get that.

Yeah, that would be weird. You feel like you shouldn't see them in a mirror. Yeah, exactly. And it also might feel like a little more real. Weirdly, because your eyes, you feel like could play tricks on you in front of you, but when it's reflected in a mirror, you're like, wait, I'm really seeing that. Yeah, like that's for real because now I'm seeing that in two places. Also, it just sounded like I cracked a beer. I didn't. I opened a pure leaf tea. It's true. I just wanted to like raspberry flavored. Yeah, I love that one. Yeah, that's my favorite. Cheers. Cheers to this raspberry leaf tea. During this rather odd period of my life, I became friends with the organist daughter, who is one of the professional singers for Sunday morning services. I love the You're like, this was a strange period of my life. I love it. She and I bonded over our love of all things new age,

like crystals and tarot and palm reading, and all those sorts of things that bring all of us weirdos together. We were having fun swapping ghost stories one night when the subject inevitably turned to all the weird and ghostly things I was seeing late at night at church. She confirmed that she also thought that the church was overrun by spirits of all kinds. She had experienced some weirdness herself. Out of nowhere, the story of me running a little bit of,

over a ghost child in front of that church so many years ago popped into my head. I described this. I'm glad we came back to this because I was like that happened and went way too quickly. Yeah, I didn't know if you were coming back to that or not and I'm so happy that we're here right now. I described this strange encounter to my friend. She turned absolutely white like she was seeing a ghost herself. How old did that child look? She asked me. I said he looked like he was about six. Why? My friend quietly said, I know who that child was. And every hair on the back of my neck stood up. Also, every hair on my body just stood up. I got complete goosebumps all over my body. So thank you. Accurate. Apparently back in the 1990s, there was a member of the church who

volunteered to set up the luminari. I hope I said that right, bordering the church property on Christmas Eve. Luminaria, I think that's how you say it. Our traditional Christmas light decoration made out of white paper bags filled with sand and lined up along the sides of the street. On Christmas Eve, a volunteer from church would go around the property and light the small votive candles, placing one in each bag. The visual effect is stunning, but as I mentioned before, this Lutheran church was on the corner of a pretty busy intersection. Apparently, this guy had decided to bring his six-year-old son with him to help light the candles, because the child just loved seeing those lights on Christmas Eve.

Oh. This is going to hurt my soul. Unfortunately, his son got too close to the road and was struck by a driver. Right in the middle of that same intersection. He didn't survive and passed away that same night. Oh, my God. As soon as she told me the story, I somehow knew that this was the child I'd seen. He had looked so scared standing in the middle of that road,

oh, staring straight into my headlights. I hope that what I saw was an imprint of the event that, happened in that place and not his spirit trapped in the middle of that road where he died. I continue to practice at that church for another few months, flickering ghostlights and all. I finally got my own church job in a decidedly unhaunted church. I doubt it. It's definitely haunted. No, they're all haunted, girl.

Despite the impressively old cemetery outback containing graves from as far back as the revolutionary war. It is haunted as fuckery. It's going to happen. I'm often there at night and I've never experienced anything but peace and quiet in that building. I think we might ruin that for long. But I still drive by that old Lutheran church occasionally. And I always think about that poor little boy whose life was cut short on Christmas Eve. Oh, Christmas Eve. So that's my story of ghosts and churches and my short stint of being their nightly entertainment. I hope you all enjoyed my story and I hope you all keep it weird. But not so weird

that you decide to take up a new career that requires you to hang out with a bunch of ghosts in a haunted church in the middle of the night while other child's ghosts run around outside, scaring unsuspecting teenage motorist at 2 a.m. in the morning. Bye. Oh, man, that was a tale. I love those stories of like fun ghosts, though, like flickering the lights to block and just be like, yeah, there's much shit. But then we get that really sad one, that poor little boy and that poor father. On Christmas Eve. And the kid just liked seeing all the lights lit up so he took him out there

to help him. Oh. That's so terrible. I'm so sorry for that family. I know, for real. All right, I feel like we need like a pallet cleanser one. Yeah, we had some kids. Yeah. I'm going to do listener tales haunted socks. Oh, I was really hoping you were going to do that. Yeah, I don't know what it's about, but like, here we go. Me neither. It starts off.

There's two pups, and it's named haunted socks. So I'm into it. And this person was nice enough to address Deb-Dab. Oh, we love it. Deb-Dab. Hopefully you get a kick out of this one. That would make me supremely happy if you choose not to shoot. Oh, that would make me supremely happy even if you choose not. to share it with the girls. The gals. The gals. I imagine your creation of listener tales as they are such

perfect balance of chilling, funny, horrifying, and inspiring. Oh, you're wonderful. If you do pass this one along, it's a double space put-a-fa, duh, and the names are okay. All the love. I'm not going to say that one. Veronica, we're good. You're like, wait a second. I love is like, let me make sure that that's the one that they said. All right, it says, hello, queens of spooky. My name is Veronica. I was just going to make you Veronica. You know. Veronica, but I use. I use. go by V, and yes, please use my name, and any others I include in this. We will feel famous and bask in the glory for months and maybe even years. Awesome.

Let's fucking go, Veronica, Veronica. I've already prepared by buying new pants because I know I will inevitably ship my current ones when you read this on the pod, saying when and not if because manifesting, duh. Hell yeah. Always manifest. A manifesting queen. It works. No clue how long I've been listening, but long enough to know that I'm obsessed.

But I used to be so opposed to listening to listener tales. I don't really know why. But I think I just wanted to hear the super duper morbid stuff and figured no one could write a listener tale if they had been brutally murdered. So I always skimmed over them. However, I got my beloved friend and roommate Maddie into your podcast and she quickly became addicted as well and told me I had to start listening to them because they really were good and fun. And so I did. And I sure am glad that I did because now they're some of my faves. I always love hearing that.

People can turn around, okay? Yeah. It's like, give them a chance. Yeah, sometimes the listener tales get hate, but like, they shouldn't because so many people write in and they write in such good tales and everybody's such a talented writer and sometimes they're fun and sometimes they're moving and sometimes they make you laugh and sometimes they make you cry. But no matter what, I think everyone should listen to them because you could enjoy them. Exactly. And now that we have three a week, it's like every Friday, it's just like a nice little, you know, if you need, you're not always going to get a nice palette cleanser with listener tails because sometimes they're skisks. Because sometimes they're scary as fuck.

Sometimes they're heavy as fuck. Yep. But sometimes they are like a nice little departure from the really heavy shit. And like sometimes you just need something to put on while you're in the shower, while you're cleaning that you don't really want something like too crazy. Yeah. These are great ones. And it's just a nice way to get everybody involved. Yeah.

It's like a little like friend time with you guys. Yeah. And it just feels like you have a part of this because you are a part. of this. So it's our way of just being like, fuck yeah, you guys. And that makes me so happy that that, like, actually really makes me so happy. Yeah, that like really made me happy to hear like I was opposed to them, but I gave them a chance and now I'm so glad I did. Yes. Awesome. Thank you. Thanks for giving us a chance. And thanks Maddie for getting her into them. All right. And some of them truly are super duper morbid. Exactly. Exactly. As you've said before,

your listeners are all so incredible, mm-mm, winky face. Maddie and I talk all the time about. about how we feel like you guys are our friends and how we'd love to just sit and chit-chat with you too. I want to hang out with Veronica and Maddie. Me too. I think it takes a real genius. Oh my God, wait, this is weird. Okay. I think it takes a real genius in wit to be able to add such razzle-dazzle to such dark topics while remaining informative, sensitive, and logical. Oh, how many times have I said razzle-dazzle today? Okay, that is weird because Ash has said a little razzle-dazzle a few times today and I think yesterday actually. Yeah. That's weird. Real weird. I think we're meant to be.

Yeah, it's all the manifesting and shit. I think this all intertwined, right? Yeah. What's even we were going into one episode of Listener Tales and then we oozed over into another one. So technically this one wasn't even supposed to be in this episode, but something drew us to this one. Whoa, Veronica. It was you. And your manifest eye, Sean.

I love this. I love it so much. They say, or Veronica says, keep up the good work or don't. We'll understand if y'all need a problem. break and to pivot. God, I can't believe I just use that word. Wow, that's hilarious. And two, thank you. Yeah, that was like really nice of you to say. That was really cool. That was really cool of you. I fucking like you guys. Damn. Like shit. All right. Anywho, as my love for these listener tales have grown, I've also gained comfort in some of the stories and perspectives that have been shared.

I very recently had my first paranormal moment and all I could really do to, I guess, coper process has been to share the experience with my friends and family, and now you. I've always been a talker. Same. And it helps me process things that are traumatizing, amazing, or in this case, downright perplexing. Upon telling this story soon to come, I promise, some people have almost made me feel bad for it. Like maybe I have a bad energy around me or I've personally done something to upset the spirit world. No, never. IDK. But pretty sure I've been acting about the same, which can be naughty, but like not invoke bad omens naughty since I was about 15. I'm 30 now. Anyway, it's made me feel anxious to tell people because I don't want people to think that I have some bad

energy cloud attached to me or that I'm like a ghost magnet or I'm losing my goddamn mind. LOL, I don't know, anxiety and PTSD. You know how it goes. You are not a bad energy cloud. I can feel it. You are absolutely not. So without further ado, let's set the scene. Absolutely nothing about my current scenario says, let's haunt this shit. We, my BFF Maddie aforementioned, her boyfriend Moses and my boyfriend Dustin, and are three adorable dogs, pictures attached. They come up later for sure.

They are also so gorgeous. I want to steal them. Beautiful doggies. I haven't seen them yet, but I am going to look at the end, and I'll probably say that they're cute. Beautiful babies. Okay, I'm excited. But all of you guys rent a cheap small townhouse.

I always operated under the logic that small apartment-ish places could not be haunted because rent is so expensive in my town, Boulder, Colorado, that shitty-ass landlords would probably find a way to charge them with rent, too. That's probably safe to say. Probably. I have to fit like five ghosts to a room just to make do. Also, you typically hear these stories from people who live in old farmhouses, manors, houses built on burial grounds, etc. Yeah.

Side note, my parents did live in an 1800s Victorian-style home. Hell yeah. Victorian-style home that was once a birthing hospital, mortuary, and an inn, and not a fucking peep out of that place. Damn. That's wild. Wow. So clearly you don't have a bad energy cloud around you do that. I always kind of actually wanted to hear a peep. I searched for a peep because I've always been a believer in, well, pretty much everything.

In peeps. Me too. And I thought it'd be kind of cool to have some myths or superstitions confirmed. Well, I got my confirmation. Congratulations. I'm really glad that you had your first paranormal experience. I'm happy for you. You know what? I haven't had it. It's so funny. I feel like I get jealous of you guys as paranormal experiences. I haven't had one in a while. And I want to have a fun one. I'm manifesting a fun, cool, chill spirit that I'm. get to me or like see. Yeah, I like that. Yeah, I just, I feel it. Like, hey. Come on. Hey, what's that? Please. Like, life's been so boring lately. I love that. All right. So Dustin and I share a room upstairs in our teeny tiny abode and Maddie and Moses share a room directly a wall away from us. One night, well, morning, Dustin and I, Dustin and I awoke abruptly to a motherfucking commotion. It was about 5.36 a.m. and our room had just been illuminated by the rude rising sun. Our two dogs, Twister and Wayland, amazing names.

They are brothers and litter mates, by the way, super adorbs. But they were growling ferociously and barking. And there was kind of a bang or clunk or, I don't know, some fairly loud noise that had risen us from our slumbers. Dustin's initial reaction was a shriek. Now, I have never heard this man scream before, let alone shriek. Damn. He's about six-five, tough as nails, and scared of very few things. I sat up sharply.

Yeah. I am typically more reluctant to enter the waking world than he is, so I was definitely far more disoriented and looking for an easy explanation so that I could happily go back to the lovely sleeping world. Thinking they had heard a weird noise or knocked something off, one of our dressers, I said, hey boys, STFU. But immediately noticed their alert postures and all their back hair standing on end as if they were in some cool-ass canine punk rock band. They were also staring at the dresser by the foot of our bed, and not the window or door where they typically aim their borks if they hear a noise outside. Okay, odd. As a wake brain started to engage, I noticed one of our dresser drawers was upside down on their dog bed, about three-ish feet from where it belongs, inside the dresser. I thought, okay, they must have somehow pulled it out.

Maybe the knob got stuck on one of their collars or something. Still doesn't make sense, but 5.30 a.m. brain. I was going to say that was a leap that I understand. You're like, okay, I'm just going to come up with the most. You're like, I'm tired. Any likely situation here. That's when shit got weird. My blood almost froze inside my veins when Dustin said, the look. Uh-oh. And I will never, ever forget this moment. The drawer which had been capsized in the middle of our room was Dustin's sock drawer. All of its belongings, socks, were piled fairly neatly, not like Egyptian pears. But in a nice tidy pile On our feet

On top of the blankets What? On the bed Immediately I was absolutely Gripped by terror Every one of my muscles were clenched And I felt a gut-wrenching fear That we were not alone

What fuck did that? What kind of like, what a weird poltergeist Or paranormal men? I don't know He was like, are you cold? He was like you should wear socks to bed You shouldn't. That's weird, gross.

Don't do it. Dustin and I were literally grasping each other, muttering things like, what the fuck and dumbfounded expressions while ogling this pile of socks. And after I don't know how long, not long, Dustin got up and secured the drawer in its contents back in their rightful place, which, oh, excuse me, with hindsight, I wish we would have left it like that for a while, like a crime scene, so I could have taken pictures to share with this tale.

It's okay. You were scared. I believe you. I get it. As we were laying there, kind of dumbstruck and beginning to discuss what may have just happened, Twister continuously walked up to that specific drawer to sniff the small, circular knob. Both dogs also kept pacing to the floor-length mirror that we have in our room and would just blankly stare into it, sometimes meeting gaze with me through the mirror, which was

supremely extra creepy. After a bit, Dustin, in a true manly way, said, well, I need to get some more sleep. To which I was like, how the fuck? But sure enough, his large body faded back into the unconsciousness mere minutes later. I, on the other hand, did not. This is so relatable. Whenever anything weird happens and Drew wakes up and I'm terrified, he's like, yeah, I got to get back to bed. And I'm like, how the fuck are you going to sleep right now? Yeah, John will just be like, yeah, I don't know. And then I'll just go to sleep. And I'm like, What? That is not an answer. No. Like what? The dogs continued to be anxious until we all got up for work. So, some logical theories, I guess. I spent the next day completely bewildered and obviously had to talk this over with some of my closest friends. Let me tell you, trying to work the next day was a heckling challenge, a hecking challenge, as I had bigger things on my mind like, was my room haunted? Was I haunted? Was I at the very beginning of a horror movie where people are yelling, bitch, leave your shitty ghost infested house? Many scenarios were persuasers. proposed. A. Maddie and Moses were pulling some kind of weird prank. Simply no. First of all,

that would be drastically out of character, since we were all working professionals who would rather die than wake up before our alarms go off. And we did not live in a frat house where that kind of spooky Tom Foolery is appreciated. Also, bet your ass I called her first thing in the morning and just no. Yeah, that doesn't make sense. No. That'd be a weird one to pull. B. Home intruder. Okay, this was a very popular theory, especially from my worrying mother. But it just don't add up. It doesn't. There were two MacBooks downstairs by the entryways, a large TV, and literally cash lying on our nightstand. Everything untouched except this one sock drawer, which is literally the furthest thing away from our bedroom door. And can you imagine a home invader who does

nothing? Nothing else to have the walks into your room, takes the sock drawer out, dumps the socks on your feet, throws the drawer onto the dog bed, and then just leaves undetected? Yeah, no. Like, no. Nor. That'd be crazy. All right. C. Dog shenanigans. Quickly unfounded as dogs do not have thumbs, and although I love them, have fairly small brains. Small. And would be unable to remove socks from our drawer or ground to stack them on the bed in a tidy pile. Truth. Yeah, agreed.

D. Sleepwalking. Still the only thing that might make sense. And bet your sweet asses we were all grasping at our logic straws to try to force this into a sensible explanation. But we both awoke in bed simultaneously to the same commotion. Yeah, that's where I'm confused. Same. The dogs would not ferociously growl at us no matter what we were sleep doing. It would have to, excuse me, it would have been somewhat of an impressive sleep act to either pile the socks on our feet and then hurl the drawer across the room or pile the socks then crawl under the covers without knocking a single pair off the bed.

Yeah. So after giving these solutions reasonable consideration, only real answer in my head moving forward was drum roll. That was a drum roll. Thank you. Ghost, spirit, etc. Yeah, I agree. Yeah, I totally agree. So Maddie, who is far more spiritual than me, shout out Ash. Hey, help me stage our room the next day. Rest assured, we opened all the windows, and I invited them to leave or stay, but not to start shit. And that I hope they find an easy passage into wherever they want to go, and hopefully somewhere that's not my house.

See, you have no bad vibes. You have, I don't, I didn't sense a bad vibe at all. Your vibes are immaculate, V, as far as I'm concerned. That's a big compliment coming from this guy over here. compliment B. It truly is. I feel it, though. Now, one weird note, upon revisiting the occurrence the next day,

Dustin and I both said that when we were so rudely awakened, we both thought that there was a feral creature in our room that the dogs were fighting off. It sounded to both of us like there was a raccoon or critter rabidly growling, and the boys were defending us. Oh, a demon? That's interesting. But what demon would just pour socks on you in a dip? The sock diamond.

The sock diamond. That's definitely on Buffy the vampire slag. Yeah, stock demon. Listen to the rewatcher, Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Oh, yeah. If you guys haven't listened to that yet, you totally should because it's a lot of fun. Yeah, it's a new podcast that me and Elena have where we watch Buffy, me for the first time, Elena for the 90th, and we talk about it.

And we are going to have fun cast and crew from the show on. So the rewatcher, go listen to it. That was an easy little segue. Awesome. All right, so following this, nothing too weird has followed, except the floor-length mirror still seems to be a portal of weirdness. Every now and then the dogs would pace anxiously. Waylon would sometimes crawl into bed with me, which isn't too weird.

But then he would lay on my chest breathing heavily and then go whine at the door. Several times I woke up to the disturbing image of them meeting my grace through the mirror's reflection, and even scratching at the base of the mirror, which they had never done before the incident. Ooh, that's weird. Did you get rid of the mirror? Well, from all my research, your podcast, and consulting with some of my spooky peers, I really don't think the mirror is at fault. It has been in Dustin's room since he was like 20.

And even if it was something attached to the mirror that I've heard, and even if it was something attached to the mirror, I've heard negative one-star reviews about trying to destroy or remove a conduit of spiritual activity. And again, my super anxious self has heavily considered all these things. Instead, I decided that the mirror probably has allowed the dogs to see things that cannot be seen by the naked eye, and I decided to turn it around to face the wall. No problem since. Knock on wood.

I don't know. I feel like turning it around to face the wall is somehow even creepier. Yeah, I don't know. I don't have an answer for this one, how to fix it. I don't know, but... Because don't get rid of it, for sure. Yeah. Just because I feel like that's never a good thing? Yeah. I guess, I don't know. Like, is that...

Don't, like, give it to somebody and, like, don't tell them that it's maybe haunted. But it's like, if you get rid of it, you're probably, it's going to get broken. Or you're going to have to break it. It's like, I feel like that's just bad. Don't break it. But I feel like you're in. indirectly responsible for breaking it by getting rid of it. Ooh.

You know? Whoa. You put a lot of thought into that. I did. I really went on a journey for a second. What's the answer? I guess facing it towards the wall makes sense if it's working. Yeah, if it's working.

And if that makes you feel comfortable. For some reason that freaks me out. I don't know why. It's probably Blair Witch. You're thinking of like a person facing the wall? Yeah, always. I'm always fucking thinking of a person facing the wall. I can't handle it.

I'm always thinking about it. I wake up thinking about it. Girlie, I go to bed thinking about. No, no, no, no. Girlie, I went to bed last night thinking about it because actually Franklin was being super weird last night and like meowing up a shit ton at me and I thought I saw something in the corner of my room behind the door and then all I could think about was Blair Witch and then I fell asleep. Then I fell asleep. Yeah. But I didn't have weird dreams. Anyways. Oh, that's good. I guess one

reason that I'm writing in two is to see your guys as view on this. Should I break the mirror into a million pieces? No. But your girl doesn't need seven years of bad luck either. No, no. No. Is it a harmless spirit trying to tell Dustin that his feet stink? They do. Maybe. Do you think we were just sleepwalking? No. No.

It still strikes me as being so odd because in many tales that I've heard, people seem to have recurring experiences that typically gradually escalate. We just went straight to throw and shit and stack in socks. Very curious since this was such a dramatic one-time event. All in all, after the initial fear started to wear away, I became almost flattered that a spirit so strong as to unhinge and fling drawers and crafty enough to neatly pile socks decided to make their presence known to me. I'm humbled by how awe-inspiring our universes and how little we, mere mortals, probably actually understand of the forces at play. I agree with that. I am also made very curious as to the limitation spirits might face. Maybe they only have

one sock drawer to work with to get your attention. Thinking of the movie Interstellar, no spoilers, but go watch it if you haven't. I haven't seen that. I haven't either, actually. Interstellar, noted. How frustrating it, must be. be to constantly have your pleas for recognition be misconstrued as something scary and negative as default all the time. I think that too. I do too a lot. I always think like when they're like make noises and we're all like, ah, like that's scary. And it's like maybe they're just literally being like, I don't know how else to get your attention. Yeah, because I just have something cool to tell you. Right. Yeah. But like how do they tell it to you? I know. Not through Ouija.

Anyways, cheers and keep it weird. But not so weird that your feet are so stinky that something has to have a divine intervention on your sock drawer. All right, heartbeat. Oh, wait, there's more. Also, trying my hardest to get my dear friend Nick to write in or let me write in with his story of saving himself and his Shih Tzu from being murdered by a serial machete murderer in Chicago. Um, hello. Please, Nick. Nick. Right that in. You or Nick. Oh, wait. Oh, my God, your fucking dogs. How beautiful are they? Wait, okay, one of them definitely isn't because of the paws, but like, is the, no, no, no, I don't know. No. But there's a little bit, but I loved him so much. They're beautiful. They are so cute and gorgeous. And the one with the white paws looks like he's wearing mittens. And there's a picture of them like literally sleeping on each other. They're just beautiful boys. They really are. They just little brothers. They just widow brothers. Oh, I want another dog, everybody. Oh, my God. I know. Elena got to meet Drew's parent's dog, Ted the other day. Ted is a beautiful baby.

He's a sweet, sweet baby. Such a distinguished gentleman. He's not a baby. He's seven. I know he's a distinguished gentleman. He is an issue. He is him. I just want a dog. I know. You should get one. You should get one soon. I'm ready. And I think Bailey is telling me that it's time. I think she's like, girl.

Yeah, because she keeps showing up on your camera. She does. But not really. You got to tell that. It's wild. So on one of our security cameras, I keep getting this thing that, because it will tell me if it's a person, a car or a pet. It always says. But it'll say a pet even when it's like a deer.

Listen, that's your pet. That's technically not my pet, even though we have a lot of deer. But I keep getting this one, and it just started doing this. We've had that camera for a long time, and it will update us when an animal walks by it. And you can see the animal on the camera. Right. That's how it triggers. All of a sudden, over and over and over, I keep getting pet detected, pet detected.

And it'll be like five in a row. Yeah. And I'll look at nothing. No squirrel, not a mouse, not a nothing. Like literally nothing. And I have, I have inspected these videos over and over and over. There's nothing in there, yeah. And then one night, I had one of the cameras in one of the girls' rooms because I think

they were, they were sick or something. And I just wanted to be able, even when I was downstairs, like, that night, I wanted to be able to just, like, see how they were. Yeah. And I actually think it was when we had to, when we were staying home because one of them had, like, the chest infection. So I was, like, very on edge. Yeah.

So I had it up there. And all of a sudden I was getting like ching, ching, ching, and I'm like, oh, God. And I like ran over thinking one of them needed me. And I kept saying pet detected. And I was like, what? And I was like, what? And I'm looking and there's nothing. And neither one of them were moving.

No. To like set the camera off. But I'm like, was that baby? Because I wonder if that was Bailey checking on that. I think so. And I'm starting to be like, okay. Yeah. Girlfriends tell me something.

I don't know what she's telling me, but she's telling me something. You know what I just thought of? You know that little statue that I got you and she passed away? Where the camera is, isn't that where you were going to put that statue? And then you were going to plant like a special garden there for her. Yeah, we wanted to plant a Bubba garden. Maybe she's telling you that come spring she wants you to do it. She's time. She's time.

It's her time. It's her time. Oh, my God. I miss her so much. I know. Ash got me this really pretty little statue and it looks like a little Bubba. And it's got a little place to put a picture of her. Yeah.

And then we got these little, when we brought Bubba to the vet when she passed away. they gave us, because I love our vets, they gave us along with her little nose boot picture and her little paw prints, they gave us a little package of like, just like flowers, like red and flower seeds that you can plant like a garden. In a memory for Bella. Like a little memory garden for your pet, so we're going to do that. And we just didn't do it last year because grief. Yeah, I was going to say we just weren't ready to do it yet, but I definitely think we're ready to do it this year and I'm excited. But it's so funny. I really do think she's

out and about right now. She's out and about. Her birthday's coming up in like a month. Oh, shit. I didn't even, oh, wow, that's kind of crazy. Yeah, like a month and a half. So she's out and about. I love her.

And you know what? You guys like still, I'll get messages from you guys just being like, I just got, if you're like new listeners or something, you just get to that part. And you guys, like, I keep getting messages being like, I'm so sorry about Bailey or like I've lost my pub. And like, thank you for sending those because they meet a lot.

Of course. They like make me smile every time. So thanks for that. Thank you. But maybe we should end. Let's see. All right. So my next one and the last one that we will read today is called if you give a serial killer a cookie.

Ooh, it's like a remix. That is not a book that you want to read to children. Definitely not. This one says, Dear Ash and Elena, oh my God, I can't believe I'm finally writing those words. I love you. Hello from Northwestern New Jersey where the streams are still clean, the farms are still functional. the hoods are still, the woods are still haunted. I was going to say the hoods are still wanted. The woods are still haunted. And the towns are still small enough that if you don't know your own

business, you can always ask your neighbors. I love that. From the state's so weird that we actually have a magazine called Weird New Jersey. I love that magazine. Right? I would love to present a story about how not to save someone from a serial killer. Attached, please find a double-spaced, size 14 font epic put a foe for the optically challenged i am so optically challenged i can't even express how optically challenged i am you're already amazing if you decide to read it please know that i'm hitting pause and dragging everyone i know into a massive conference call so they can hear for themselves that i may be weird but that my weirdness got me onto a podcast so there take that disbelievers l-l we'll start rounding them up nico get them in the room i'll wait my name is nicole hello

And yes, you can use it because I'm 44 years old with five kids and I've long since run out of fucks together. I've been married to my current husband. Yes, there have been more than one. So they didn't leave in, no, they didn't leave in body bags for about seven years now. We've been together for 13 and have known each other for about 21. I love that. Throughout our shared history, we have found many, many strange parallels and coincidences in our lives leading up to meeting one another. That's when you know. I was going to say, that has. happened with me and John, too. We are constantly finding things out. We found out that John, my John, and Deb Deb's husband actually played against each other in Little League Baseball. Like, how funny is that? And we're like in the same, like, there was some like whole like thing with this one game that they didn't get to play and there was articles written about it and shit. And it was like this whole thing. We found it out after they had already started dating. We were like,

wait a second. Or Lin's, who we always talk about on the rewatcher, her mom. mom is friends with John's mom. Yes, it's the weirdest shit. And none of us knew this. Oh, no, wait. Can I just say my favorite one really fast? Oh, yeah. Literally, Elena was in like a meet and greet for the guys from Boondock Saints.

And John was covering the event and kind of lolling about it. Because he was like a newspaper guy in college. Yeah, covering the event in the newspaper. And he walked past Elena. Yeah. And like didn't realize it because they didn't know each other yet. And he hates that movie. Like, he does not find anything fun in that movie.

Yeah, it's all right. I'm going to throw him under the bus. he hates that movie. And so he was walking by the line and he literally said to me, he walked by, I was like, look at all these losers. And his future wife was one of them. Your future wife and mother of your children were right in that line. He was like, oh my God. Well, the loser. Yeah. And there's like a few more of those things that we were like, what the fuck? That's crazy. So I'm telling you, Nicole, that's when you know. Me and Drew have two. We went to the same camping ground and we vacationed in the same spot. There you go. It's like not that crazy, but.

But whatever. It's there. So it's, let's see. One example of this was when my mother mentioned that she and my dad had almost purchased the house next door to my husband's family home when I was six years old. Oh, my God. Whoa. My husband, who is not always too quick on the uptake, commented that that would have been cool because he would have been my boyfriend already. I, the more analytical of the two, reminded him that we were, we are more than six years apart in age, which would have made him a pedophile, not a boyfriend. I digress. I love that. You're just like, let me just lay this out for you very honestly. I'm dead.

We have since discovered commonalities and shared friends and acquaintances. We saw the same pediatrician growing up, whoa, and the same general practitioner as adults. We had attended a lot of the same concerts and music festivals, and we both followed the same types of sports, auto and motorcycle racing because my father raced pro-am and my husband ran midgets. The biggest and strangest coincidence, pertained to my husband's mom. Back in the late 90s, when I was in nursing school, I worked for a local rehabilitation hospital with a woman named Linda who constantly, constantly tried to get me to come home to dinner to meet her son. She didn't like his girlfriend and said she just knew we would get along. What a queen. She was like, fuck this girl, you should come over. You need to come over.

I was a single mom and used that as my frequent excuse. It wasn't that I was antisocial or anything, but really, all I could think was who wants to be set up with a guy by his own mother. Accurate. Yeah. I mean, she was really nice at all, but it seemed a little desperate at the time, and I just wasn't all that interesting.

It's like in my Big Fat Greek wedding when he brings all the guys over. Fast forward a few years, and I meet, date, and move in with my now husband, Frank. He didn't really associate with his family much and had a strained relationship with his father and one of his sisters. He did, however, get along with his oldest sister,

and together they would wax poetic about their mama a lot. Spoiler alert, my hubs was a serious mama's boy. And it sadden me that I had not gotten to meet her prior to her death a few years before we met. One day, as we were moving into our new home, I opened a box he had in storage and saw a framed photo on top. I was shocked and asked Frank how he knew Linda and why he had a photo of her in this box. Suffice it to say, my husband was absolutely delighted to explain

that she was his late mother. Yep, all those years ago, she had been trying to hook me up with her son, Frank. Oh, she brought the two of you together for sure. That's wild. I need to know how you officially met now. Yeah. My husband was shook. He very much remembered that his mom had been absolutely hung up on the idea of him meeting

her coworker way back then. Oh, my goodness. And he even took out her journals that he had kept after her death and looked up this time period. sure enough in her own hand she had written an ad nauseum about how she really thought her baby and this girl Nicole at work would be perfect for each other. I'm going to start crying right now.

Oh my god! Can I also say that I think it was Kismet that we read this tale because I actually asked Elena the definition of ad nauseum this morning. That is weird. You did. Yeah, weird. Whoa, guys. We were meant to read these tales. Wow, that's weird.

Ooh, okay. Well, this was clearly a woman who got what she wanted even in death. This serves the relationship well in two distinct ways. One, I don't have to be sad anymore that I had not met her because it turned out I did. And two, anytime we have an argument, I get to remind him that I was handpicked by his own mama. And how could a mama's boy disagree with what his own mama clearly wanted for him? I'm obsessed. This is iconic.

And also, just what a fucking thing to have in your back pocket. What power? I was handpicked by your mom. Like, listen, I'm right. And I bet your mom thinks so, too. So now I have a license to drive this man cuckoo nuts bananas on the daily with the perceived permission of his patron saint Linda. I love Linda. So now that I have given you way more information than you needed or probably wanted, no way, I wanted all of it.

We can finally get down to the good stuff. The reason I started this essay that no one assigned to begin with, I had told my husband that I really enjoyed horror movies. He said he did as well. We decided to see our first scary movie together sometime around 2009. It was some iteration of the classic slasher's flick, and I had nightmares for days. I assured him that this was my normal reaction and not to worry about it, but you can imagine his surprise when he discovered that, whereas fictional killers robbed me in my sleep, true crime was my comfort language, and I often drifted off to sleep at night listening to

Ann Rule audiobooks or murder documentaries on Netflix. I get the irony, but I don't make the rules. This is just how it is. A lot of people feel that way. I feel that way. The man may be slow on the uptake, but he was quick enough to figure out the formula in a hurry. If he wanted to guarantee I was awake and in dire need of some comfort, he'd put on a horror movie. I love it.

If he was, I love it. If he thought I needed some rest, he'd put on some ID discovery icon. One evening, there was a seriously sinister weather pattern moving in. The thunder was rolling, the rain was pouring down in buckets. Oh, I want that so bad. The wind was whipping against the sides of the house and the power went out. I don't want that. I don't want that.

My husband is a contractor, so we have a mega generator. But that doesn't help with entertainment when the cable goes out and the internet goes down. So he decided to play solitaire. And I picked up a true crime novel and started reading. I mentioned to him that I had recently read that statistically speaking. If you live in the United States and make it to age 78, you will inadvertently walk by between 10 and 35 murderers in your lifetime. That's fucking wild. My husband commented that he believed it, thinking he was humoring me, I said it made sense since you just never.

know who was capable of it, and the interviews with neighbors after a murder always say things like he was a nice guy or she seemed so normal, or the best one, I never suspected a thing. Again, he just nodded and agreed with me. My husband rarely just agrees with me on anything unless he's patronizing me. So at this point, I assume he isn't even taking me seriously. And since I'm a spicy bitch who lives for a good debate, I look for the right buttons to push and mentioned that I personally knew of two people I had met who had killed someone. I won't go into details here, but suffice it to say that one was inadvertent and the other was most assuredly not. This time, my husband looked up and said, I said I believed you, and now I'm going to tell you why.

Ooh. He then proceeds to tell me about a New Jersey serial killer who had lived, and I don't know how to word this, murdered? Is murdering work when you literally identify as a serial killer? out of Morric, because she was going to say, like, worked out of Morris County, but she's like, is that even the correct thing to say? Out of Morris County, New Jersey, not too far from where we had grown up. His name was James Gerald Cadditch. Oh, I have heard of that name.

I was going to say, that sounds familiar. And thank you for the pronunciation. He was born in New Jersey in 1948 and killed a man in Florida in 1971. He was caught and sent to prison where he killed his second victim. In 1982, he was paroled and moved back to New Jersey, where he apparently bounced back and forth between an apartment in Morristown and a family member's home in Randolph. That same year, he wasted no time in finding his next known victims. I say known because he escalated quickly, and we all know what that means.

And because there are supposedly several other similar crimes that remain unsolved for a lack of evidence. I won't mention any names as their families are undoubtedly still grieving, but they are a matter of public record and can easily be found online if you are interested. Trigger warning for sexual assault. One was an 18-year-old cheerleader whom he kidnapped from a mall, raped, murdered, and dumped in a local reservoir in Randolph.

The other two weeks later was a 25-year-old woman who he ran off the road, kidnapped, raped, and stabbed repeatedly before dumping her body at a rest stop on Route 80 between Hackettstown and the Pennsylvania border. My God. My husband said that people were scared. This was the early 80s when people still left their doors unlocked and the idea of a potential

serial killer was terrifying. I was just a little kid when this was all happening, but my husband was already a preteen and was hyper aware of his mother's anxiety about it all. He said she was working the 7.30 to 3.30 shipped at the time and was usually home in time for his school bus. But his older sister's school dismissed earlier than that and she was very concerned for their safety. Doing what any terrified mom would do with a killer of young women in their midst.

She arranged with a friend of her girls to get off the bus at her house and stay there after school until she could pick them up, good mama. She knew that the idea of being babysat as teenagers wasn't necessarily going to go over very well with her daughters, but also better safe than sorry. I'd be like, do you want to get killed or do you want to be safe? Yeah. The hunt for the serial killer went on throughout December of 1982 to no avail. but in January of 1983, a man contacted law enforcement claiming to be a third victim. He told police that he had evaded his kidnapper and would be killer after being stabbed repeatedly. He was wounded, but his story didn't sit right with the cops who were investigating. They later discovered this man's prior convictions for murder and matched his vehicle to the descriptions of the vehicle involved in the murders of the two young women.

The cops investigated the case, the man went on living his life, the killer appeared. to still be on the loose, and my mother-in-law continued to stash her teen daughters at her friend's house after school every day. That is, until May of 1983, when the man was officially determined to be a pretend victim and was arrested, tried for the murders of the two young women, and sentenced to death. His name, you guessed it, James Gerald Cadadich. And where did he live at the time? Oh, no worries. Just at his family's members' house in Randolph. the same family member who happened to be friends with my husband's mother. The same family member who is babysitting my husband's sisters. Oh my God. You know to protect them from the serial killer who happened to be in the house.

I did not see that coming. Holy fucking shitballs. Holy shit. Oh my God. That's right, fellow weirdos. The people protecting my sisters-in-law were the same people sheltering the person they were protecting them from. It's like giving a serial killer a cookie,

or in this case, two. Oh my God. Now, don't get me wrong, I'm sure they were very nice people who never suspected a thing. That's always how these stories go. No one suspects a thing. That's how they get away with it for so long.

But holy shittaki mushrooms, friends, what were the fucking odds? For real. Thankfully, even serial killers seem to be smart enough to understand you don't shit where you eat, so he never laid a hand on the sisters. And everyone ended up safe

and relatively well-adjusted, depending on who you ask, of course. And let's face it, it's a hell of a story to tell their grandchildren someday. But seriously, can you imagine how my poor mother-in-law must have felt when she found out she basically hired a serial killer to keep her kids safe from the serial killer? Oh, my God. I am, that, finding that out must have been life-shaking. Oh, my God, yeah, universe-shaking. And just like the wild irony of it all, you're just like, what?

And just knowing that they are okay, I'd be like, well, you're never leaving the house again. I'm never putting you in anyone's care. My God. Anyway, since New Jersey later abolished capital punishment, Kadadadich's sentence was commuted to life in prison in the 90s. In the past few years, he has tried to reopen his case, but so far to no avail. I mean, even if he is as innocent as he suddenly claims, his wounds were deemed self-inflicted. So at the very least, he was trying to get himself in the papers one way or the other,

and that's enough for me to be glad this case ended the way it did. This would make a wild movie, though, right? Don't tell Mom, the babysitter is not dead? Serial sitter? But again, I digress. All joking aside, though, I would like to take a quick moment to shout out one of the victims. Though publicly accessible sources all agreed that the second victim was alive when she was dumped and died later at the hospital, very few seemed to tell the full badass story for which she fully

fully deserves credit. I have it on good authority that after being unceremoniously discarded like refuse at the truck stop, this amazing woman was able to crawl 100 yards across the parking lot. That's the length of a football field to get the attention of a truck driver by banging on the door of the cab. This woman fought for her life, and I wish more articles would cover that, her courage, her determination, and her stamina. I don't know if she was able to give the police any information, but she managed to survive

another hour and a half to make sure she made it to safety and a place she could be cared for and even more importantly identified. That detail has always impressed me and I think it bears mentioning here as well. In her memory, her family set up a child advocacy center in her name and I think that is just about the greatest way to memorialize someone who fought so incredibly bravely.

They gave their daughter the ultimate legacy. Instead of sadness and despair, they set up a legacy of hope. Oh, that's so wonderful. And that, sweet ladies, concludes my epic story. If you actually made it this far, please know that when I discovered your podcast last year, I was not in the best mental state. I'd recently been struggling in my marriage and my relationships with friends and family, not because of anything they had done,

but because I was so run down from the pandemic and feeling overwhelmed by life and by a toxic situation with my parents. A lot of people felt very off the last few weeks, so you were not alone. The last few years. Did I say weeks? Yeah. I mean, yeah, the last few weeks as well. Everybody's been feeling weird. You two amazing, strong, outspoken, brave, and infectiously upbeat ladies reminded me that I am vivacious to and that I deserve happiness and peace. You fucking do. That makes me so happy. That just made me feel great.

Thank you. You really do deserve happiness and peace. You absolutely do. Your stories and anecdotes gave me the motivation to break off my toxic relationships and invest in the people and experiences that bring me joy. Hell yeah. Because you only have so much time on this floating rock. Yeah. Seriously.

That just makes me feel really good, so thank you. So thank you for all that you do. No, thank you. If you can inspire this old cynic, you can inspire anyone. And please be sure to give love and kisses to all the people and support animals that help make morbid my comfort podcast as well. Attached, please find some random photos of the people that help make my real life go round as well. My husband, my kiddos, my son-in-law, my granddaughter, my pups, pictured here are the late but still great, Koojo and the love of my life cookie. all. And of course my emotional support pig, who, in my own sixth sense of humor, I lovingly named

Jimmy Dean the sausage case. I am obsessed with you officially. You know, just in case he didn't work out and I needed a plan B. Jimmy Dean, the sausage king. She said, ha, ha, ha. I know. I have problems. And if you ever want another 200-page tome, just let me know because I have more issues than Time magazine. Please send more. I know this isn't as well written as the butcher in the wren. Of course it is, finished in one day because oh my god elena i could not put it down so please write another one soon already doing it's working on it but thank you so much but as you can tell i am always willing to drag out a five-minute anecdote into a three-and-a-half-hour extravaganza in the meantime please keep on keeping it weird and maybe not so weird that you save your kids from a serial killer by putting them in the same room as a

serial killer but definitely so weird that you manage to set your friend up the your son up with a co-worker from beyond the grave with weirdness and obsessive love, but not like, hold on, it skipped. Oh, your family is beautiful. But oh my God, look at all of you in your Christmas pajamas. Oh, my God, the pig. I eat a tube of paint and ruined the couch. And mom says, I'm adopted. And then the other dog says, you're adopted.

Also, you and your husband are so fucking adorable. You're so beautiful. Your family is so beautiful. Oh, my God, I love you in your Christmas jammies. Nicole, that was amazing, horrifying, hilarious, all of the above. I love you. Thank you for that. You guys all are the fucking tits.

And it makes us so happy that you just like take the time to write these tales into us. It really does. This is honestly, I really look forward to listener tales and I'm so glad we get to do them every week. Listener tales is the highlight of my week. Because we can just be kind of like, it almost feels like when we go way back to like the beginning. of things and we're just like Lucy Goosey and stuff. Yeah, it's like it just, it feels like we are just hanging out with you guys with these. Like it does with the other ones too, but like, there's a lot, there's some, obviously a lot of weight and heaviness and attached to the other cases.

Yeah. Like listener tales are where we can just be like, wow, Nicole, what the fuck? You're like, hey, V, you and Maddie are the shit, you know? We get to connect with you guys. What's that, Bill Bob? Like, Bill Bob. Cat, you know, we love y'all. We love all y'all. So thank you so much and keep sending them in. And we hope you keep listening. And we hope you keep it weird. I finally did it right. The last few episodes, I was really having a time.

You know? Don't keep it that weird. Don't. Love you guys.