Solved Murders - True Crime Stories - BATMAN ATTACKED ME IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT” THE INCREDIBLE CASE OF MORGAN PART1 #57

Episode Date: September 15, 2025

#horrorstories #reddithorrorstories #ScaryStories #creepypasta #horrortales #batmancreepypasta #nightattack #paranormalencounter #truehorrorstory #unsettlingmystery  In this eerie and bizarre first part of Morgan’s experience, a quiet night takes a dark turn when an unknown figure dressed as Batman appears in his room. What initially seemed like a prank quickly transforms into a nightmare. As Morgan tries to make sense of the surreal intrusion, he begins to uncover a terrifying pattern that suggests something much more sinister is at play. Was it just a man in a suit... or something far beyond human?  horrorstories, reddithorrorstories, scarystories, horrorstory, creepypasta, horrortales,batmancreepypasta, maskedintruder, nightterror, paranormalcase, unexplainedattack, creepynight, surrealencounter, terrifyingexperience, psychologicalthriller, midnightfear, maskedman, supernaturalmystery, batmanhorror, bizarreevents

It all started on the cold, quiet night of January 1st, 2021, in a small apartment in Canton, Georgia. Rodney Mejur was spending his first New Year's Eve alone after finalizing his divorce. No kids, no wife, no loud parties. Just him, a homemade dinner, a movie, and the eerie quiet of a new beginning that didn't feel so new. After trying and failing to reach his parents on the phone, thanks to overloaded networks, Rodney brushed his teeth and got ready for bed. And that's when it happened. A knock.

Or rather, a tapping. On his bathroom window. He froze. It was well past midnight. Who the hell knocks on windows in the middle of the night? He peaked out, expecting maybe a prankster or a drunk neighbor. But all he saw was a silhouette, a shadowy figure standing just beyond the frosted glass. No face, just darkness.

The figure mumbled something distorted, barely understandable. But among the garbled words, Rodney heard a name. Clear as day. Morgan. His ex-wife's name. Chills shot down his spine. That name, in that moment, from a stranger. No.

Something was wrong. Really wrong. Panicking, he grabbed his phone and tried. to call Morgan. No luck. Still no signal. Lines were dead. So he threw on a jacket, bolted down the stairs, jumped in his car, and drove to her house. It was late, dark, quiet. No lights on. He rang the doorbell. Nothing. Knocked hard. Still nothing. Yeld her name. Still, silence. Surveillance footage would later show him frantic on the porch, banging on the door, circling the house like a man possessed.

Then he ran to the back. There were no cameras in the backyard. But according to him, what he found there would haunt him forever. Morgan. Barely dressed. Tied up. A pillowcase over her head. Bruised, bloodied, trembling.

Rodney ripped the pillowcase off, untied her, and helped her in sight. She was in shock. Couldn't talk, couldn't cry, just wide eyes and shallow breaths. Finally, when she could speak, she said something that made no sense. Batman attacked me. Yeah. Batman. Cops arrived around 3 a.m. They separated the two. Rodney waited outside while officers tried to calm Morgan down. Gave her water, helped her change clothes, reassured her that she was. was safe. Slowly, she began to speak. Her story was messy, disjointed. Her eight-year-old twins were in Florida, staying with a friend. She had planned to spend New Year's Eve with her best friend,

Nicole Stavishevsky, just some girl time, wine, and food. But after dinner, she felt exhausted. So she went home. She found a text from Rodney, saying he'd left a check for her on the front porch. So she grabbed it and went back inside. Lights off. Alarms on. Pajamas on. Time for bed. But the fireworks were loud that night.

Annoying, not scary. Her dog, a little pug, didn't even flinch. He only barked at strangers or strange noises. That night, he was calm. So she was too. Until he barked. And when she only... opened her eyes, there he was. At the foot of her bed. Dressed head to toe in black, hoodie,

mask, gloves, everything. Holding what looked like a gun. His voice distorted, like a voice changer from a movie. Deep. Menacing. Get up. He lunged at her. Punched her with the butt of the pistol. Tied her up with zip ties. Hit her again. Hard. Then strangled her until she blacked out. When she woke up, the horror escalated. He sexually assaulted her. Threatened to kill her. Said he'd come for her family next.

Asked where the money and jewelry were. She told him everything, terrified out of her mind. He ransacked the house. Then came back. More threats. More terror. I'm going to miss your husband, he said. said. That's when Morgan blurted out something she hadn't planned. Please don't hurt me. I still

love Rodney. The attacker paused. Then asked for her phone to disable the alarm. She gave it to him. He demanded the password. She gave that too. He turned off the alarm, pocketed the phone, and lifted her in his arms. Down the stairs. Out to the back porch. Pillowcase back on. Don't move. Don't scream. Don't run. Wait until you hear two car honks. Then you can go. She waited. She heard the honks. But she didn't move. Thought it was a trick. Thought he was watching. So she stayed there. Shivering. Paralyzed. For what felt like 15 minutes. In reality, it was 40. Then she heard footsteps. Then Rodney's voice. Morgan. What happened?

Sergeant Dakota Liverbers took lead on the investigation. The story stank. Too many details. Too convenient. Too emotional. From his experience, it sounded like someone who knew Morgan. Knew her schedule. New she be alone.

His first suspect. Rodney. How did he know to come to her house? Why was he the one to find her? Why weren't the kids' home? Why were they in Florida? Too many coincidences. Rodney and Morgan were separated for months by then. But they had history, a long, complicated one. They met when she was 14, he was 17. Young Love. By 2009, they were married. The perfect couple, everyone said. Then tragedy struck. Rodney's brother, Kevin, died of leukemia. Rodney fell apart. Morgan became his rock. But that set a pattern. Every time something went wrong, Rodney crumbled. Morgan had to be the strong one. She always had to carry the emotional

weight. When Morgan got pregnant the first time, they were ecstatic. It was a boy. Kevin William Mejer, named after Rodney's late brother. The whole family was thrilled. But Kevin Jr. was born with a heart defect. He died 18 days later. Rodney was shattered. And once again, Morgan had to put her own grief on hold to be his support system. Again. Three months later, she was pregnant again. This time with twins. Healthy ones. Born in 2000, born in 2000, And for a while, life was perfect. Then Rodney lost his job in 2013. They had savings.

Morgan had a stable job. But things shifted. She started a side hustle in interior design, shiplap and sugar. At first, it was just a fun gig. Then it exploded. Clients rolled in. She left her job to focus full time. and Rodney? He wasn't happy. Morgan was thriving, making money, building an empire. She even

hired her best friend Nicole. Business was booming. Rodney felt left behind. Worthless. Like a shadow. And that's when the gaslighting began. He told her she was a bad mom, a selfish wife, that she was nothing without him. Too busy for family. Too distant. Too cold. She couldn't win. Work too much. She was neglectful. Work too little. She was lazy. Spend time with him. She was distracted. Leave him alone. She was cruel. Everything became a fight. Then came the final straw. They went on a trip with friends. Everything seemed fine. Until they were alone. He exploded. Grabbed her wrists.

Shook her. She left. Quietly. No scene. Just packed up and went home. Told her parents everything. When her dad confronted Rodney, he flipped the script. Morgan's dramatic.

She attacked me. I just held her wrists. That's all. Rodney was charming, calm, convincing. People believed him. Morgan became the, crazy one. The liar. The exaggerator.

Rodney leaned into it. Played the victim. The devoted husband with a difficult wife. And what he did next? That was only the beginning. It all started on the cold, quiet night of January 1st, 2021, in a small apartment in Canton, Georgia. Rodney Meger was spending his first New Year's Eve alone after finalizing his divorce.

No kids, no wife, no loud parties. Just him, a homemade dinner, a movie, and the eerie quiet of a new beginning that didn't feel so new. After trying and failing to reach his parents on the phone, thanks to overloaded networks, Rodney brushed his teeth and got ready for bed. And that's when it happened. A knock. Or rather, a tapping. On his bathroom window.

He froze. It was well past midnight. Who the hell knocks on windows in the middle of the night? He peaked out, expecting maybe a prankster or a drunk neighbor. But all he saw was a silhouette, a shadowy figure standing just beyond the frosted glass. No face, just darkness. The figure mumbled something distorted, barely understandable. But among the garbled words, Rodney heard a name.

Clear as day. Morgan. His ex-wife's name. Chills shot down his spine. That name, in that moment, from a stranger. No. Something was wrong. Really wrong.

Panicking, he grabbed his phone and tried to call Morgan. No luck. Still no signal. Lines were dead. So, he threw on a jacket, bolted down the stairs, jumped in his car, and drove to her house. It was late, dark, quiet. No lights on. He rang the doorbell. Nothing. Knocked hard. Still nothing. Yelled her name. Still, silence. Surveillance footage would later show him frantic on the porch,

banging on the door, circling the house like a man possessed. Then he, ran to the back. There were no cameras in the backyard. But according to him, what he found there would haunt him forever. Morgan. Barely dressed. Tied up. A pillowcase over her head. Bruised, bloodied, trembling. Rodney ripped the pillowcase off, untied her, and helped her inside. She was in shock. Couldn't talk, couldn't cry, just wide eyes and shallow breaths. Finally, when she could speak, she said something that made no sense. Batman attacked me. Yeah.

Batman. Cops arrived around 3 a.m. They separated the two. Rodney waited outside while officers tried to calm Morgan down. Gave her water, helped her change clothes, reassured her that she was safe. Slowly, she began to speak. Her story was messy, disjointed. Her eight-year-old twins were in Florida, staying with a friend.

She had planned to spend New Year's Eve with her best friend, Nicole Stavishevsky, just some girl time, wine, and food. But after dinner, she felt exhausted. So she went home. She found a text from Rodney, saying he'd left a check for her on the front porch. So she grabbed it and went back inside. Lights off. Alarms on.

Pajamas on. Time for bed. But the fireworks were loud that night. Annoying, not scary. Her dog, a little pug, didn't even flinch. He only barked at strangers or strange noises. That night, he was calm. So she was too.

Until he barked. And when she opened her eyes, there he was. At the foot of her bed. head to toe in black, hoodie, mask, gloves, everything. Holding what looked like a gun. His voice distorted, like a voice changer from a movie. Deep. Menacing. Get up. He lunged at her. Punched her with the butt of the pistol. Tied her up with zip ties. Hit her again. Hard. Then strangled her until she blacked out. When she woke up, the horror. or escalated. He sexually assaulted her. Threatened to kill her. Said he'd come for her family next.

Asked where the money and jewelry were. She told him everything, terrified out of her mind. He ransacked the house. Then came back. More threats. More terror. I'm going to miss your husband, he said. That's when Morgan blurted out something she hadn't planned. Please don't hurt me. I still love Rodney." The attacker paused. Then asked for her phone to disable the alarm. She gave it to him. He demanded the password.

She gave that too. He turned off the alarm, pocketed the phone, and lifted her in his arms. Down the stairs. Out to the back porch. Pillowcase back on. Don't move. Don't scream. Don't run.

Wait until you hear two car honks. Then you can go. She waited. She heard the honks. But she didn't move. Thought it was a trick. Thought he was watching. So she stayed there.

Shivering. Paralyzed. For what felt like 15 minutes. In reality, it was 40. Then she heard footsteps. Then Rodney's voice. Morgan? What happened? Sergeant Dakota Liverbers took lead on the investigation. The story stank. Too many details. Too convenient. Too emotional. From his experience, it sounded like someone who knew Morgan. knew her schedule. knew she be alone. His first suspect. Rodney. How did he know to come to her house? Why would he? was he the one to find her? Why weren't the kids' home? Why were they in Florida? Too many

coincidences. Rodney and Morgan were separated for months by then. But they had history, a long, complicated one. They met when she was 14, he was 17. Young love. By 2009, they were married. The perfect couple, everyone said. Then tragedy struck. Rodney's brother, Kevin, died of leukemia. Rodney fell apart. Morgan became his rock. But that set a pattern. Every time something went wrong, Rodney crumbled. Morgan had to be the strong one. She always had to carry the emotional weight. When Morgan got pregnant the first time, they were ecstatic. It was a boy. Kevin William Mejure, named after Rodney's late brother. The whole family was thrilled. But Kevin Jr. was born with a heart defect. He died 18 days later. Rodney was shattered. And once again, Morgan had to put her own grief on hold. To be his support system. Again. Three months later, she was pregnant again. This time with twins. Healthy ones. Born in 2012.

And for a while, life was perfect. Then Rodney lost his job in 2013. They had savings. Morgan had a stable job. But things shifted. She started a side hustle in interior design, Shiplap and sugar. At first, it was just a fun gig.

Then it exploded. Clients rolled in. She left her job to focus full time. And Rodney? He wasn't happy. Morgan was thriving. Making money. Building an empire. She even hired her best friend Nicole. Business was booming. Rodney felt left behind. Worthless. Like a shadow. And that's when the gaslighting began. He told her she was a bad mom. A selfish wife. That she was nothing without him. Too busy for family. Too distant. Too cold. She couldn't win. Work too much. She was neglectful. Work too little. She was lazy. Spend time with him. She was distracted.

Leave him alone. She was cruel. Everything became a fight. Then came the final straw. They went on a trip with friends. Everything seemed fine. Until they were alone. He exploded. Grabbed her wrists. Shook her. She left. Quietly. No scene. Just packed up and went home. Told her parents everything. When her dad confronted Rodney, he flipped the script. Morgan's dramatic. She attacked me. I just held her wrists. That's all. Rodney was charming, calm, convincing. People believed him. Morgan became the, crazy one. The liar. The exaggerator. Rodney leaned into it, played the victim. The devoted husband with a difficult wife. And what he did next? That was only the beginning. Rodney began spinning an

entire narrative about how Morgan was unstable, overly emotional, manipulative. He even convinced some of their mutual friends that she was having a breakdown and needed help. She'd walk into a room and feel eyes on her. People whispered. People judged. And worst of all, no one believed her. But Morgan wasn't crazy. She was scared. Scared of the man she used to love. scared of what he might be capable of. So she filed for divorce. Tried to keep it civil, but Rodney wasn't having it. He tried to fight for full custody, claimed she was unfit, emotionally unstable.

He made things messy, expensive, painful. But she held her ground. And eventually, the divorce went through. She kept the house, most of the business. The kids stayed with her. Rodney had visitation rights but barely used them. He became a ghost, floating on the edges of her life. Until that night.

Until the night someone dressed as Batman showed up and almost killed her. Cops dug deeper. Searched for leads. Checked phone records, surveillance cameras, GPS logs. Everything pointed to one disturbing conclusion. the attack wasn't random. It was planned. Timed.

Executed with precision. By someone who knew the alarm code. Someone who knew the layout of the house. Someone who knew where the valuables were. Rodney, of course, denied everything. Claimed he was home all night. Alone. Claimed he got the name from the creepy message on his bathroom window

and just wanted to check on Morgan. but he had no alibi, no proof, nothing to back up his story. Investigators brought him in for questioning. They played recordings of Morgan's testimony. They showed him evidence. But Rodney stayed cool, collected, unshaken. Still, Sergeant Liverbers wasn't buying it. He believed Rodney had something to do with it. Whether he was the attacker or hired someone else, he couldn't be sure yet. But it smelled like revenge. The slow, simmering kind that builds over time until it explodes. And Morgan? She was left with scars. Physical and emotional. She couldn't sleep without lights on. Couldn't trust shadows. Couldn't walk past mirrors without flinching. Her kids didn't know what happened,

just that mommy had an accident. But she knew the truth. She knew she'd seen the devil up close. And she knew he wore the face of someone she used to love. The investigation is still open. No arrests yet. But Morgan keeps pushing. Keeps fighting. She's not letting him win. Not this time. To be continued.