Solved Murders - True Crime Stories - Our Friendly Giant Turned Killer The Chilling Truth About Our Neighbor Named “Blue #23

Episode Date: July 22, 2025

#horrorstories #reddithorrorstories #ScaryStories #creepypasta #horrortales#neighborkiller #friendlyturneddeadly #giantgonewrong #hiddenevil #truestoryhorror  The story unfolds in a quiet neighborhood where a beloved local figure, a towering man known as “Blue,” was seen as kind, helpful, and harmless—until he wasn’t. After a series of disturbing events and missing persons reports, the narrator pieces together a past they were too blind to see. Blue’s unsettling transformation from gentle to grotesque reveals a terrifying duality: a man praised for his warmth but consumed by rage and horror. This psychological and true crime-inspired tale dives deep into trust, manipulation, and how evil can hide in plain sight.  horrorstories, reddithorrorstories, scarystories, horrorstory, creepypasta, horrortales,neighborkiller, giantturnedevil, suburbanhorror, hiddenmonster, falsefriendship,truestoryinspired, friendlyfacade, psychologicaltwist, disturbedneighbor, calmturnedchaos,creepingevil, trustedgonewrong, unexpectedkiller, everydayhorror, localmonster,communityterror, dualnaturehorror, behindthemask, horroroftrust

Back when I was a teenager, I met this dude named Doug. We clicked fast, same humor, same chill vibes, and before long we were hanging out pretty much every day. Doug had some buddies who lived in this tiny little apartment complex, just four units total. Everyone there knew each other. It kind of felt like this mini-community where parties were low-key, music floated out of every open window, and nobody was calling the cops unless something really serious went down. A lot of the guys were older than us, a few already over 21, so we never really had issues getting beer or cheap bottles of vodka. That place became our weekend zone.

We'd hang out, drink, sometimes smoke, and laugh until the sun came up. Life was simple back then. No real responsibilities, no stress, just youth and freedom. One day, a new neighbor moved into the complex. He called himself blue. Yeah, just blue. We never found out if that was a nickname or his real name, but it suited him. This guy was huge, man.

Built like an NFL linebacker. Towered over everybody. Muscles on muscles. He looked like he could lift a car without breaking a sweat. But the crazy part, he was nice. Like, super chill. He always had weed, always had booze, and never asked for anything in return. Naturally, we started hanging out with him.

We asked him one night if he was into weightlifting or something because we were curious how the hell he got so jacked. He chuckled and told us, real casual like, that he spent a few years in the state pen for manslaughter. No big deal, right? Just dropped it like he was talking about a summer vacation. and I just kind of nodded, laughed nervously, and didn't press it. Something about the way he said it, like he was at peace with it, made us keep our mouths shut. Probably for the best. So time

passes, and one night Blue invites us over for some drinks. We walk into his apartment and noticed two new faces, two dudes we'd never seen before. These guys weren't like the regular crew. They had this intense energy, like something was simmering just beneath the surface. And they were big, too, like blue, but without the warm personality. These guys looked like they ate nails for breakfast. We sit down, start drinking, trying to keep it cool, but then they dropped this question on us, hey, you guys want to buy a kilo of weed? Doug and I look at each other like, is this for real?

We tell them straight up, we don't have that kind of money and we're not interested. But they keep pushing. telling us to make calls, borrow from friends, whatever. Just real aggressive. It started feeling less like a friendly hangout and more like a trap. We were getting ready to bolt when Blue steps in, tells them to chill out. Says we're friends and they need to drop it. The tension broke a little, and we took that as our cue to leave, fast.

The next day, we find out those two guys had just gotten out of prison. Apparently, they knew Blue from inside. And get this, right after we left, they decided they were going to come after us. Thought they could shake us down, maybe rough us up, take whatever cash we might have had. Lucky for us, Blue wasn't having it. Caught them on the stairs and beat the living hell out of them. And I mean badly. Blue laid them out, told them they weren't welcome there ever again.

From that moment on, Blue was kind of a legend to us. Our hero. Also, are we guy? Yeah, he kept us supplied. But he wasn't just dealing. He had this creative side too. Made pipes out of deer antlers. Sold them on the street by the beach.

He even set up this little handmade wooden stand where he displayed his stuff. Really artistic dude, actually. Every time we passed him working, we'd wave and shout, hey. He'd always smile and wave back. So for about a year or so, that was life. Partying, getting high, dodging weird ex-cons, and hanging with Blue, who we thought was just a misunderstood giant with a rough past but a good heart. Then one day, completely unrelated, I ended up at the sheriff's office in Santa Cruz.

Long story, but I was tagging along with a neighbor who, Wild Co. coincidence, happened to be the police chief. We walk into his office and I noticed this crime board thing, you know, like from the movies. Photos, strings connecting people, scribbled notes. Dead center of it all. A giant picture of blue. My stomach dropped. I played it cool and asked, Hey, who's that guy, like I didn't know. Inside I was freaking out. Praying they didn't have surveillance of me or Doug buying weed from him. The chief doesn't even look up from his desk and just says, that's Richard Summerholder. We just arrested him for killing two women inaptus.

I felt like I got punched in the gut. A few days later, it hit the news. And it was everywhere. Turns out, there was a party up in the Santa Cruz Mountains. Blue offered two girls a ride up there. At some point during the drive, he made a move, asking for, uh, favors. They said no. And just like that, he snapped. He killed them. Both. According to the news reports, it was brutal. When they finally arrested him and brought him to

trial, he was so damn big they had to shackle both his hands and feet. Like some medieval beast. The image still haunts me. The Santa Cruz Sentinel covered it all. You can still find the article if you dig through their archives. I couldn't wrap my head around it. This was blue, man. The guy who saved us. The guy who shared his weed, his drinks, who made antler pipes and smiled at us every time we passed. A murderer. A monster hiding behind a friendly face. After the shock settled, I started replaying every interaction in my head. The time he told us about manslaughter. The night with the two ex-cons. The chill vibe that always felt slightly, off.

It all made sense in the worst possible way. He was always capable of violence. We just never saw it turned on us. Doug and I didn't talk about it much after. What was there to say? We got lucky. Really lucky. If we had stayed longer that night, if Blue hadn't stepped in, who knows what would have happened.

We were just two dumb kids trying to have a good time, completely unaware we were partying with a killer. And maybe that's the scariest part. You never really know someone. They could be the guy sharing a joint with you one night and making headlines as a murderer the next. Life's funny like that. Or maybe just terrifying. So yeah, that was my teenage friendship with a killer named Blue. Real name Richard Summerholder.

Killer of two, savior of two, and one hell of a dark story I'll never forget. The end, or at least, the end of that chapter.