Solved Murders - True Crime Stories - Uncovering dark secrets Doubting if my dad is really who he says he is #80

Episode Date: July 9, 2025

#horrorstories #reddithorrorstories #ScaryStories #creepypasta #horrortales #familysecrets #darktruth #identitycrisis #suspense #trustissues  The narrator begins to question their father’s true identity after uncovering strange inconsistencies and eerie secrets. As doubts grow, they grapple with fear, betrayal, and the mystery of what—or who—their dad really is  horrorstories, reddithorrorstories, scarystories, horrorstory, creepypasta, horrortales, familysecrets, identitycrisis, trustissues, mystery, suspense, thriller, paranoia, darkfamily, secrets, betrayal, horrorfiction, psychological, uneasytruth, unknown

Okay, look. I don't even know how to start this without sounding like I've lost my mind, but I swear I haven't. I'm 19, and I'm not exactly the kind of dude who jumps to conclusions or buys into conspiracies, but what I overheard, and what I later discovered, has had me seriously questioning everything I thought I knew about my dad. I haven't even told my mom about this. Not yet. Maybe not ever. I don't know. I guess that's why I'm right. writing this out now, trying to figure it all out. So here's the background first. My dad's American.

Let's call him Robert. He's 48. He moved to the Philippines sometime in the late 90s, met my mom, fell in love, got married, and had me and my siblings. He's always been a good dad. Like, really good. The kind that sneaks us candy when mom's not looking and lets us stay up late watching movies. My mom, she's more of the disciplinary type.

But that's just how it worked. They balanced each other out, and we never questioned it. Robert never talked much about his life back in the States, though. He told us he didn't get along with his parents, said they were abusive and super strict, and that he cut them off completely years before he even left America. It was always this taboo thing to bring up. My siblings and I just accepted it. Now fast forward to a few weeks ago.

It was my mom's birthday. She was inside cutting the cake, music was playing, people were chatting, and the vibe was chill. I went outside to look for my dad because I needed help with something on the grill. I figured he'd be out back, having one of his cigarettes. Sure enough, there he was, phone in one hand, smoke in the other. I didn't want to interrupt, but then I heard him say something that made me stop. up in my tracks. Hey, Dad, how's mom? He said. Then he laughed. Like, full on laughed. I was frozen. Did I just hear that right? He was calling someone dad. As in, his dad. He went on chatting

like it was no big deal. Said he was going to send them pictures of the kids and talked about how grown up we looked. Mentioned sending a birthday gift soon and talked about Monday. stuff like the weather and baseball. I didn't say anything at first. I just quietly went back inside, but my mind was racing. For years, he told us he had no contact with his parents. So why the hell was he talking to his dad on the phone like they were best buds? The next morning, I worked up the nerve to ask him about it. He was drinking coffee, scrolling on his phone like usual. I casually brought up the conversation I'd overheard. He froze. Like, literally stopped moving. His hand mid-scroll, coffee cup halfway to his mouth, eyes locked on the wall like he saw a ghost.

Then, slowly, he put the cup down and looked at me. His eyes were, weird, distant. Like he wasn't even really there. You probably misheard, he said after a while. I told you before, I don't talk to them anymore. Haven't in decades, he said it with this edge in his voice. That edge he gets when he doesn't want to talk about something. Like, end of conversation, don't push it. So I didn't. For a while, I let it go.

I figured maybe they reconciled and he just didn't want to talk about it yet. Families are complicated, right? But the doubt was there. It stayed with me, gnawing at the best of it. back of my mind. Then one random night, I was messing around online and decided to look up my dad's old university. He always bragged about being the valedictorian. Said he graduated top of his class, had some scholarships, the whole shebang. I tried finding any mention of his name. Nothing. No old yearbook entries, no alumni lists, nothing. It was like he never even went there.

I even checked archived pages and forums, tried different spellings, nothing. So then I just googled his full name. You know, out of curiosity. And that's when things got really messed up. One of the first results was a link to a news article from the mid-90s. I almost scrolled past it until I noticed our last name in the headline. I clicked it. And what I read made my blood run cold.

Apparently, back in the 90s, there was this double home invasion in the States. Two guys, armed with pistols, broke into two separate houses in one night. They shot the homeowners in their sleep. No robbery. No motive. Just murder. Cold-blooded. One of the suspects was caught not long after.

The other one. He fled. Nearly shot a cop while escaping. He disappeared without a trace. Then I saw the pictures. The guy who got away looked exactly like my dad when he was younger. Like, not just a resemblance. I mean identical.

Same build, same hair, same jawline. Even the same weird mole near the left eyebrow. But the name was different. The last name matched ours, but the first name wasn't Robert. Still, everything else lined up. I sat there, rereading that article over and over again, hoping I was just sleep-deprived or tripping. But I wasn't. It was all there. And now I can't unsee it. I've been spiraling ever since. Every little thing he ever said is under a microscope now. All the stories from his past, all the gaps he never filled in, all the times he got weird or dodged questions.

I even started thinking back to when I was a kid. He never let us go visit the U.S. said it was too expensive, too dangerous, or that he just didn't feel like it. He never had any photos of his childhood, and any time we asked about his family, he'd just say, they weren't worth remembering. But what if that wasn't the truth? What if the real reason he left the States was because he was running? What if he changed his name, moved halfway across the world, and started over? And what if we were the second life he built after destroying the first one?

I know I sound like I'm in some kind of thriller movie, but I swear to God, I don't know what to think anymore. Do I tell my mom? I mean, she's been with him for decades. She loves him. She trusts him. She built her whole life with him. What if I blow all of that up over a misunderstanding? But what if it's not a misunderstanding?

I can't sleep. I can't focus. Every time he walks in the room. I feel like I'm looking at a stranger. Like I don't even know who my father really is. I've even considered contacting a lawyer or a private investigator, but then what? What if I dig deeper and confirm the worst? What if I have to turn my own father in?

The thought makes me sick. And yet, not knowing might be worse. I don't even know why I'm writing all of this out, other than I feel like I'm going to explode if I keep it in any longer. I haven't told a soul. Not my siblings. Not my friends. Not even my dog. Maybe someone out there will read this and give me some clarity. Maybe I just need to get it out of my system. Or maybe I just needed to face it myself, that the man I called dad might not be who he says he is. Whatever the case, I'm stuck in this web of doubt and fear, and I don't know how to get out of it. I guess all I can do is wait and decide. tell the truth or keep pretending everything is fine god help me the end