Solved Murders - True Crime Stories - Fatal Desire in Riverside The Forbidden Affair That Ended in the Colfax Murder PART2 #46

Episode Date: January 20, 2026

#horrorstories #reddithorrorstories #ScaryStories #creepypasta #horrortales #TrueCrimeTales #DeadlyPassion #RiversideMystery #ForbiddenLoveStory #ColfaxMurder “Fatal Desire in Riverside: The Forbidden Affair That Ended in the Colfax Murder (PART 2)” delves deeper into the dark web of lies, manipulation, and forbidden passion that consumed everyone involved. As the affair intensifies, jealousy and paranoia begin to take hold, pushing the lovers toward a deadly breaking point. Friends start to notice strange behavior, while secrets begin to surface that could destroy everything. The tension builds in Riverside as hidden motives and deceitful promises spiral out of control, leading closer to the violent crime that would later shock the quiet neighborhood of Colfax. horrorstories, reddithorrorstories, scarystories, horrorstory, creepypasta, horrortales, truecrime, darkromance, obsession, realcrime, murdercase, forbiddenaffair, deadlylove, psychologicalthriller, colfaxmurder, riversidecase, tragicending, crimeofpassion, betrayalstory, fataldesire

The night everything broke. The laughter that used to echo lightly through the Colfax home had started to carry another kind of sound, attention hiding beneath the giggles, stretching quietly through the rooms like invisible smoke. Every joke felt charged, every accidental touch meant something, and every glance lingered longer than it should have. The house was filled with something that neither of them wanted to name, but both of them could feel, a low hum that kept getting louder.

for Raina, after years of living in a marriage that felt more like a long-roomade agreement than a romance, that sudden spark of attention was intoxicating. It wasn't even about physical desire at first. It was about being seen again. Sarr looked at her like she mattered, like there was still something interesting behind the tired smile and the aching back. He didn't treat her like a middle-aged woman lost in house routines, he talked to her like an equal, like someone he wanted to know. That was all it took, that small, dangerous shift. Suddenly, she was brushing her hair more carefully before breakfast, wearing perfume even when she wasn't planning to leave the house. She'd pause a little longer in front of the mirror, noticing the details she used to ignore,

the curve of her neck, the faint lines near her lips, the way her eyes still had warmth when she smiled. Something old and half dead inside her began to stir. She didn't talk about it, not even to herself. But it was there, this invisible pull, this rush of color returning to a grayscale life. She told herself it was harmless, that it was just nice to feel appreciated again. But deep down, she knew she was walking toward a cliff. Saar, for his part, didn't set out to seduce her. He didn't wake up one morning thinking, I'm going to cross that line.

It just happened slowly. He liked how she listened to him, how she laughed at his jokes even when they weren't funny. She had this calmness he'd never felt from anyone before, part motherly, part mysterious. But he could also sense her loneliness. It made her soft, open. And for a young man who'd always felt like a failure, her attention was a drug. He began testing the boundaries, brushing her shoulder when he passed behind her in the kitchen, sitting a little too close on the couch when they watched TV, asking questions that grazed the edge of intimacy.

Were you happy when you were younger? Do you ever wish things were different? Questions that weren't appropriate, but that made her heart skip anyway. And little by little, those lines started to blur. By September, the air in that house felt heavy, like every one, Wall was watching. Dale, the husband, the older brother, the one who trusted them both, was working late shifts as usual. He was oblivious, lost in spreadsheets and delivery schedules, never suspecting that the two people he loved most were drifting dangerously close to something irreversible. Then came the night that changed everything. It was early September, a Thursday.

Dale got a last-minute call from his company, one of his co-worked. had called in sick, and he needed to cover a night shift out of town. He packed a small bag, kissed Raina goodbye, and told her he'd be back in the morning. That left Raina and Sarr alone in the house. The night started innocently enough. She made pasta for dinner. He offered to open a bottle of wine. One glass became two, then three. They talked about music, about life, about how weird it felt when time just passed and nothing seemed to change. The lights were dim, the air warm and quiet. Outside, the world was dark and still.

Inside, the silence pressed closer. It's hard to say exactly when the moment arrived, the one where something invisible broke. Maybe it was when their hands brushed while reaching for the same bottle. Maybe it was the way he looked at her, not like a brother-in-law, but like a man seeing a woman he wanted. Or maybe it was the way she didn't look away. Whatever it was, it happened fast, a kiss that started uncertain and ended desperate. No words, no declarations, just need. Years of emptiness condensed into one impulsive, irreversible act. By the time Raina realized what she had done, it was already over. The line had been crossed completely. The next morning,

sunlight streamed through the curtains, almost cruel in its brightness. She woke up feeling both alive and sick. For the first time in years, she felt wanted, her pulse racing, her body awake. But underneath that rush was a pit of dread. She'd done something she couldn't take back. She hadn't just cheated on her husband, she'd betrayed her family, destroyed a trust that could never be rebuilt. She tried to act normal that day, making sense. coffee, cleaning the kitchen, smiling when Dale called to say he was driving home. But everything

felt wrong. Every movement was mechanical. Every sound, the clink of cups, the hum of the fridge, echoed with guilt. Sar, on the other hand, seemed completely unbothered. He was cheerful, even cocky. He flirted casually, dropped small compliments in front of Dale that made Raina's stomach twist. Once, he winked at her when Dale wasn't looking, like they were sharing some private joke. That was when she realized he wasn't taking any of it seriously. To him, it wasn't a tragedy. It was a game. She tried to pull away.

She told him they couldn't continue, that what happened was a mistake. He laughed it off. You're overthinking, he said, brushing her arm. But the way he looked at her had changed. possessed, possessive, expectant, like she belonged to him now. He started acting out. He'd drink too much, stay out all night, come home smelling like bars and cheap cologne. When he was home, he'd hover around her, teasing, touching her shoulder, saying things that made her flinch. He'd make comments in front of Dale, hints disguised as jokes,

little digs that only she understood. It was cruel, reckless, and terrifying. Raina began to feel trapped. Every time Dale left for work, she felt the walls closing in. She tried to keep her distance, locking her bedroom door at night, pretending to be asleep when Sar came knocking softly, whispering her name. Dale, still clueless about the real cause, started noticing something was wrong. The house didn't feel right. His wife was tense, his brother was restless, and small argument. kept flaring for no reason. He'd ask, is everything okay? Raina would nod too quickly.

Sar would shrug, smirking. The energy in the house was off, like static before a storm. Two weeks later, Raina snapped. One morning, while Dale was at work, she confronted Sarer in the kitchen. She told him it was over, completely, permanently. She said he needed to leave the house, that she'd even pay for a month's rent somewhere else if he'd just go. Saar's face changed. The boyish charm was gone, replaced by something colder. He stared at her in silence for a long time. Then he smiled, a slow, unsettling smile that made her skin crawl.

According to what she later told a friend, that was the first time she felt genuinely afraid of him. He didn't move out. Instead, he started acting like he owned the place. He'd sleep on the couch without permission, leave his things scattered everywhere, walk around shirtless like he was daring her to react. He'd whisper things when Dale wasn't home, fragments of their past night together, twisted into threats disguised as affection.

Sometimes Raina would find small notes on her dresser, scraps of paper with messages like, I miss you, or, you can't just pretend it didn't happen. Once, he left one tucked into her mirror frame. She tore it up and threw it away, her hands shaking. She wanted to tell Dale, to confess everything, but how could she? The truth would destroy everything, her marriage, her reputation, their family. So, she stayed quiet, convincing herself she could manage it. But Sar was unraveling faster than she could keep up.

By October, he was drinking almost every night, getting into fights at bars, coming home angry and unpredictable. Raina avoided him as much as she could, keeping to her bedroom after sunset, locking the door, pretending she was asleep. But that only seemed to make him more obsessed. And then came October 14, 2011, the night that would end it all. That morning, Dale left for a mandatory overnight training outside the county. He kissed Raina goodbye and told her he'd call before bed.

She forced a smile, watching his car disappear down the street. When the house fell silent, she exhaled in relief and fear. She spent the evening trying to stay busy, cleaning the kitchen, folding laundry, doing anything to avoid the thought of Saur in the next room. She could hear him moving around the house, pacing, opening cabinets, turning on the TV, then turning it off again. By 10 o'clock, she locked herself in her bedroom, turned off the lights, and climbed into bed. Her phone buzzed.

It was a message from Saar. You can't pretend it didn't happen. Her heart dropped. She didn't reply. A minute later, she heard footsteps in the hallway, slid. low and deliberate, stopping outside her door. Then, a knock. Raina, he called softly. No answer. Another knock, louder this time. Raina, please. Talk to me. She stayed silent, clutching her phone. He kept knocking,

the sound echoing through the quiet house. Then came the sound of his fist hitting the wood, once, twice, harder each time. What happened after that is still unclear. The police could only reconstruct fragments of the night through evidence and neighbors' testimonies. What's certain is that around 3.27 a.m., a neighbor across the street called 911 after hearing muffled screams and the sound of shattering glass.

When officers arrived at 3.42, the front door was slightly open. Inside, the lights were on and the living room was a mess, overturned furniture, broken wine glasses, streaks of blood across the tile floor. Raina was found near the bottom of the staircase, barely breathing. She had multiple bruises and had trauma. In the kitchen, they found Sarr, sitting on the floor, sobbing, with blood on his hands. The hammer from the garage lay beside him. He kept saying, I didn't mean to. She wouldn't talk to me. I just wanted her to talk to me.

Raina was rushed to the hospital but died before sunrise. Dale was still driving back from his training when the police reached him. He pulled over on the highway when they told him what had happened. Witnesses said he sat there for hours, unable to move. The aftermath was chaos. Saar was arrested on the spot, charged with second-degree murder. The case tore through Riverside County like wildfire. The tabloids called it the Colfax affair, but for those who knew them, it was just heartbreak made public. People argued about who to blame, the lonely wife, the reckless brother, the husband who

never saw it coming. But in truth, there was no single villain. Just three people, each broken in their own way, caught in a story. none of them could control. In court, Sar looked hollow, like he'd aged 10 years in a month. His lawyers said he'd had a mental breakdown, that the guilt, obsession, and rejection pushed him over the edge. The prosecution called it passion turned to violence.

The jury took two days to deliberate. He was sentenced to 25 years to life. Dale never spoke publicly about what happened. He sold the house, moved out of Riverside, and disappeared from the community. Some said he went north, others said he left the state altogether. The house itself stayed empty for years. Neighbors claimed to hear footsteps at night or see a shadow moving past the windows. Maybe it was just gossip.

Maybe it was the echo of what had once been a home filled with laughter, laughter that turned into whispers, then silence, then screams. If you walk down that street today, the house still stands, quiet and unassuming, like nothing ever happened there. The grass grows too fast, the paint fades a little more each summer, and the wind sometimes rattles the windows just enough to make you think someone still inside. But the truth is, everything that mattered there, the love, the trust, the fragile normalcy, died long before that night in October. And in the end, all that was left were three names, three ruined lives, and one lesson that everyone already knows but no one ever learns. Some lines, once crossed, can never be uncrossed. To be continued.