Solved Murders - True Crime Stories - Six Years After Mom’s Murder A Journey Through Trauma, Loss, and Fragile Hope #32

Episode Date: August 22, 2025

#horrorstories #reddithorrorstories #ScaryStories #creepypasta #horrortales #trauma #loss #griefjourney #fragilehope #healinghorror  Six years after the devastating murder of his mother, the narrator embarks on a difficult journey through trauma and grief. Struggling to find fragile hope amid loss, this story explores the raw emotions of healing, memory, and the shadows that linger long after tragedy. A poignant and haunting tale of resilience in the face of overwhelming pain.  horrorstories, reddithorrorstories, scarystories, horrorstory, creepypasta, horrortales, trauma, loss, grief, healing, resilience, emotionalpain, murderstory, memory, psychologicalhorror, realhorror, tragedy, hope, haunting, personaljourney

It's been well over six years since my mother's murder. Before that I was one of four siblings, and I was the oldest, however, I was the only one with a different father. My stepfather when I was young was military, I remember going state to state every couple years constantly on the move. This along with his multiple deployments causing him PSTD and Iraq also caused tension between him and my mother. I witnessed lots of drinking and screaming sometimes blood-curdling. this left a deep impression on me and made me rebellious, and to resent him and my mother. I was never the best kid, however, I was the most knowledgeable and the most confused simultaneously. I loved them both deeply, but the mental anguish I sustained weighed greatly on my conscience

to be some other breed of kid point one day that struggle between my mother and stepfather grew to much for them to handle. A suburban mom and a desert war-driven man just couldn't coexist indefinitely. They divorced and headed their separate ways, leaving us broken and my mother with more work and longing for the love she needed in her life. I was left with hate in the situation. Going to school hearing about people's happy families and not having any friends to talk to about personal situations drove me mad.

With that I didn't even know that he wasn't my real father until my mom told me after the divorce just before a Christmas visit to see him again with my three other step-siblings. I remember vividly having a nightmare just before staying that night with him having a nightmare of screaming at him that he isn't my real dad. After his drunk lash-outs that night towards us I made that nightmare true. But this broke him, his hands around my shirt loosened with the pride A and anger in his eyes. That night he just finished a whole bottle incoherently babbling on the floor on a Christmas

night. This in turn broke me. I felt like another reason for his miserable life. That night I was left to piece together his and my sorrow. After that visit we went back to a broken home. Mom was always trying her best to be positive, but succumbing like most people to a state of melancholy. Soon after she started to date people this made her happy and I was happy to see that for her. Seeing her make friends and get out of the house made me overjoyed that at least she was trying to be happy in life. Another holiday comes around with another visit and I see that my stepfather was desperately trying to do the same.

At this time a man named James Tichwan Wu came into my mother's life they have been steady for a couple years. This man was strange and cold I didn't understand him. It was like I could see him as a clean, collected Japanese man but that was all, he didn't seem to be emotionally deep or empathetic towards us at all. Looking into his eyes I saw nothing, just empty space. I only seen him laugh with my mother and he only did things with my mother. I didn't know what to make of any of it, but my mother was happy, so I was happy. One day I noticed something, something I haven't heard in a long time. A screaming match, I eaves dropped on it and I was left in shock.

This man yelled, but he yelled with no anger or emotion put behind his words just really loud demands. My mother's voice was shaky and disproportionate. This left me terrified. I ran away from upstairs scared of what's to come next. hours passed and it seemed the conflict resolved itself. These arguments persisted for a couple months. Soon enough we didn't see him again for bit. And that's when life flipped around for me and my siblings.

One day I woke up in the middle of the night to hear a garage door open I usually like the kid I am go and see what my mother is doing as she likes to go hang out with friends after we are asleep and I'm an annoying brat that wants to pop in A and say whatcha doing. But this one time I went back to sleep. I awoke to get ready to go to school freaking out knowing this is unusual. Here door was locked so was the pantry and the garage was vacant. I banged on her door with no response leaving me to freak out, pull out my flip phone and not hesitate to call 911 after she didn't pick up her phone. I went on the porch to proceed the call because I didn't want my siblings freaking out.

soon after my neighbor rushed over to see what was going on and took the call for me. I was in denial knowing this is what happens to kids on TV when cops get involved, the worst-case scenario. With fear in the back of my mind I distanced myself from the entire situation after I talking to a detective. I didn't want to approach my siblings on the matter. I proceeded with distracting myself by hanging out with my neighbors. A few days pass and what I dreaded came to reality way worse than what I expected. My mother was shot multiple times handcuffed and hidden in a storage unit. This long event changed me. There's more on the sidelines, but this hit me the hardest and made me something else. It robbed me of everything. I met my real dad after that and fell into

his custody. I don't remember a lot about those three to four years, but when I turned 18, I lost it desperately trying to change my state of mind through making a successful family of my own. I failed that now I'm alone, my family either on drugs or hating one another. I'm absolutely miserable. The PTSD that my stepdad felt those times, now I understand. I'm empty, untreated, and alone just trying to hang on to my own child and the beauty that's left around me knowing the hell the seeps through the cracks of life that I've experienced things that I'll never truly be free of, that event and more. One day I hope to rise above, but I can't predict the future. All I can do is smile through it and be true to myself. The end.