Solved Murders - True Crime Stories - A Cop’s Haunting Memory The Night a Family Was Struck on Rainy Rockaway Boulevard #78

Episode Date: August 18, 2025

#horrorstories #reddithorrorstories #ScaryStories #creepypasta #horrortales #copstories #hauntingmemories #tragicaccident #rainynight #psychologicalhorror  This haunting story follows a police officer haunted by the tragic night a family was struck down on a rain-soaked Rockaway Boulevard. Torn between duty and grief, the cop relives the chilling memories of that fateful event that changed lives forever. A gripping tale of trauma, guilt, and the shadows that linger long after the storm passes.  horrorstories, reddithorrorstories, scarystories, horrorstory, creepypasta, horrortales, copstory, hauntingmemory, tragicaccident, psychologicaltrauma, rainynight, guilt, grief, policehorror, darkmemories, emotionalhorror, urbanhorror, chillingevent, suspense, realhorrorstories

There's so much rugby on Sports Extra from Sky. They've asked me to read the whole lad at the same speed I usually use for the legal bit at the end. Here goes. This winter Sports Extra is jam-packed with rugby. For the first time we've got every Champions Cup match exclusively live, plus action from the URC, the Challenge Cup, and much more. Thus the URC and all the best European rugby all in the same place.

Get more exclusively live tournaments than ever before on Sports Extra. Jampack with rugby. Phew, that is a lot of rugby. Get Sports Extra on Sky for 15 euro a month for 12 months. Search Sports Extra. New Sports Extra customers only. Standard Pressing applies after 12 months for the terms apply. You didn't deserve what happened.

And it doesn't have to define you. You don't have to carry it alone. I know a safe place where you can tell your story, and you'll be believed. Call the Dublin Rape Crisis Centre National Helpline on 1-800-77-888-8-8. Whenever you're ready to talk, they'll be ready to listen.

You know, there's stuff I've seen on the job that I can talk about at the drop of a hat. I've been running my mouth about my time as a cop in NYC for 40 Freakin' years now. Friends, family, old co-workers, they've all heard my greatest hits. Some of my stories are wild, some are hilarious, a bunch of them are sad, a handful are downright insane. I mean, I worked the streets in the 80s and 90s. That was one hell of a time to be in uniform in New York. Crack was everywhere, crime was off the charts,

and every day felt like some mix of a movie and a war zone. But there's one story, though. One I don't trot out when people are asking me to entertain them over beers or around the barbecue. This one. I've probably told it to two people in my whole life, and even then, I didn't go into detail. Hell, I'm not even sure why I'm telling it now, except maybe it's been rattling around in my head for too long. It was early in my career. I had just graduated from the Police Academy, badge still shiny, boots still stiff and uncomfortable,

my head's still full of that, I'm going to save the world, nonsense they pump into you during training. I was 21 years old, still a kid, really. My first assignment was in the 113th precinct in South Jamaica, Queens. Busy neighborhood. Not the worst in the city, but busy enough that you didn't have time to get bored. We worked out of a sector car, basically our patrol area, and my partner and I thought we were hot stuff. It was like playing cops and robbers for real, except there were real guns, real bad guys,

and real consequences if you screwed up. But we loved it. This was 1982, maybe 83, and every day brought something different. This particular night sticks out like a jagged piece of glass in my memory. I can still smell the rain when I think. think about it. We were working a four by 12 shift, which meant we clocked in at 3 p.m. and didn't get off until about 11.30 at night. That day, it was raining like God was trying to drown the city. I mean, sheets of water, buckets dumping out of the sky nonstop. The kind of rain that

soaks you through even if you're only outside for 30 seconds. Nights like that are usually slow. Most people don't want to be out unless they absolutely have to, and even if you're the criminals seemed to take the night off. It was early evening, already pitch black outside thanks to the clouds, and we were just cruising around our sector, trying to stay awake, when we heard a call on the radio. It was a foot cop stationed over on Rockaway Boulevard. The guy was asking for assistance with an auto accident. At first, it sounded routine. But then we caught the edge in his voice, the way his words came out a little too fast, a little too tight. You get to know the sound of fear on the radio pretty quick in this job.

This wasn't just, I need a hand with traffic, kind of nervous. This was something else. My partner and I exchanged a look. He grabbed the mic and said, 1.13, George, we're on it, and I hit the lights and headed that way. Rockaway Boulevard cuts across the corner of the precinct like an artery. It's four lanes wide and funnel straight into JFK Airport, so it sees a lot of traffic. Even on a rainy night, there are cars blowing through there. When we rolled up, it was chaos.

I slowed the car and squinted through the rain-smeared windshield, trying to make sense of what I was seeing. At first, it just looked like debris scattered along the southbound side of the road. Bits of something strewn for about 50 feet. Then I realized it wasn't debris. The stuff in the road was people. little people. Children. I felt my stomach twist into a knot as I pulled up to the first pile. The rain was hammering down so hard the water bounced off the pavement. Street lights reflected in the

wet asphalt and neon signs from the nearby storefronts made the scene feel surreal, like some nightmare I couldn't wake up from. The first body I came to was a young girl. Couldn't have been more than seven or eight years old. She was wearing this bright yellow jacket that made her stand out like a highlighter against the gray-black road. I jumped out of the car and ran to her. She was lying on her back, twisted in a way no human body should ever twist. You could tell just by looking at her that bones were broken. Probably a lot of them. Her eyes were wide open, staring straight up at the sky, unblinking in the rain. And then, God help me, she locked eyes with me. There are moments in this job that burned themselves into your men.

memory so deeply you can still... There's so much rugby on Sports Extra from Sky. They've asked me to read the whole lad at the same speed I usually use for the legal bit at the end. Here goes. This winter Sports Extra is jam-packed with rugby. For the first time we've got every Champions Cup match exclusively live, plus action from the URC, the Challenge Cup, and much more.

Thus the URC and all the best European rugby all in the same place. Get more exclusively live tournaments than ever before on Sports Extra. Jampack with rugby. Phew, that is a lot of rugby. Get Sports Extra on Sky for 15 euro a month for 12 months. Search Sports Extra. New Sports Extra customers owning. Pressing applies after 12 months for the terms apply.

You didn't deserve what happened. And it doesn't have to define you. You don't have to carry it alone. I know a safe place where you can tell your story, and you'll be believed. Call the Dublin Rape Crisis Centre National Helpline on 1-800-77-8888. Whenever you're ready to talk,

they'll be ready to listen. Feel them decades later. was one of those moments. Her mouth was open, like she wanted to scream, but no sound was coming out. It was full of blood, bubbling and gurgling as it poured out the sides of her lips. I dropped to my knees beside her and reached for her mouth without even thinking. My fingers swept inside, trying to clear her airway. All I felt were broken teeth and what I think was part of her jawbone, mixed with the warm, metallic slickness of blood. As fast as I could scoop it out, her mouth would fill up again. Blood kept coming. And the whole time, God, the whole time,

her eyes never left mine. They weren't just looking at me. They were screaming at me. When we'd first pulled up and seen the scene, my partner had already jumped on the radio, calling for backup and a dozen ambulances. I could hear sirens in the distance now, but they sounded so far away. Other cops started arriving, running up and down the street, to check on the other bodies, tiny bodies, strewn across the pavement. I stayed kneeling in the rain, one hand trying to keep her airway clear, the other holding her small, cold hand. I kept saying the same thing over and over like some broken record. You're going to be all right. You're going to be all right. You're going to be all right. I don't know if I believed it.

I don't know if she could even hear me. Eventually, EMTs showed up. Real pros. The kind of people who don't panic even in the middle of absolute hell. They moved fast, assessing each victim, triaging the ones they could save. When they got to me and the little girl in the yellow jacket, they didn't waste time. They gently rolled her onto a stretcher, strapped her in, and loaded her into the back of an ambulance. The doors closed, and she was gone. My partner and I stood there for a second in the rain, watching the ambulance as red taillights fade into the distance. Then we got back in our car. Neither of us said much. What the hell was there

to say? We drove back to the precinct, peeled off our soaked uniforms, and changed into dry clothes. Then we went back out to finish the rest of our shift like nothing had happened. That's just how it was. Later that night, we were in the precinct parking lot when an ambulance rolled in. A couple of EMTs were standing around, shooting the breeze with some other cops. The rain had finally stopped, and the air smelled clean, almost too clean. We walked over to join them. Someone brought up the accident. What a freaking mess, one of the cops muttered, shaking his head.

Total shit show, an EMT agreed. I tried to sound casual as I asked the EMT. There's so much rugby on sports extra from Sky. They've asked me to read the whole lad at the same speed I usually use for the legal bit at the end. Here goes. This winter sports extra is jam-packed with rugby. For the first time we've got every Champions Cup match exclusively live, plus action from the URC,

the Challenge Cup, and much more. Thus the URC and all the best European rugby all in the same place. Get more exclusively live tournaments than ever before on Sports Extra. Jam-packed with rugby. Phew, that is a lot of rugby. Get Sports Extra on Sky for 15 euro a month for 12 months. Search Sports Extra. New Sports Extra customers only. Standard pressing

applies after 12 months for the terms apply. Hey, what happened to that little girl? The one in the yellow jacket. Seven, maybe eight years old, he glanced at me, and his face didn't change. His voice was calm when he said it. Oh, she died right after we put her in the ambulance. That was it. We all went back to talking about nothing, laughing at stupid jokes, pretending we didn't care.

But I cared. Forty years later, I still care. And I can still see her eyes. The ones that were screaming at me. The end.