Solved Murders - True Crime Stories - Vigilante Justice Fighting Predators Online to Protect Kids and Heal Trauma #78

Episode Date: August 8, 2025

#horrorstories #reddithorrorstories #ScaryStories #creepypasta #horrortales #vigilantejustice #onlinepredators #childprotection #cybercrime #healingtrauma  This powerful narrative follows a group dedicated to hunting down online predators, revealing the dangers lurking on the internet and the emotional toll it takes. Beyond the fight against crime, it explores the journey of healing from trauma and reclaiming safety in a digital age fraught with hidden threats.  #horrorstories #reddithorrorstories #scarystories #horrorstory #creepypasta #horrortales #vigilantejustice #onlinepredators #childprotection #cybercrime #healing #trauma #internetcrime #darkweb #justice #cybersafety #predatorwatch #survivorstories #digitalwarriors #fightback

So yeah, I kept going with it. Call it therapy, call it justice, hell, call it me just working through some deep-seated trauma, I don't care. It made me feel human again. Like I wasn't just a walking shell of bad memories. Every time I knocked one of those sickos down, it felt like I was grabbing a piece of myself back from the dark. I remember this one dude, I'll call him creeper Carl. He looked like the type who'd work at a vape shop and give unsubes. solicited advice about essential oils.

Anyway, I caught him in a parking lot outside a bowling alley. I had messaged him saying I was 13 and bored and new in town, and he ate it up like it was his last meal. He showed up with a gatorade, a fidget spinner, and a half-melted Snickers bar. I don't know if that was supposed to be romantic or what. I didn't give him a chance to explain. I walked up, tapped him on the shoulder, and when he turned around, I interested in introduced him to the nearest wall. And then I let Nathaniel do his thing. We don't just swing

fists, we swing justice. Now, I ain't stupid. I know what we're doing is technically illegal. Like, we're not the cops. We don't got badges or warrants or any of that official crap. But the law ain't exactly done much for people like me, so forgive me if I'm not too worried about a slap on the wrist. I've seen what happens when the system. does its job. Spoiler alert, it doesn't. Most of these creeps just get probation or community service or some joke of a sentence. Meanwhile, the kids they hurt. They get a lifetime sentence. So nah, I don't lose sleep. There was one time though, just one, that shook me a bit. This guy, let's call him Richie Rolex, because he thought flashing a fake watch made him a goddamn rock star. He was slick,

Two. Took longer than usual to get him to take the bait. Kept asking questions, trying to find holes in the story. I had to dig deep to make the fake profile seem real. I made playlists. I posted TikToks of random teens I found online. It got weird. But eventually he cracked. Set up a meeting at a coffee shop. Said he just wanted to, talk. Right.

I met him. him out front and let Nathaniel hang back a bit. As soon as Richie saw me, he got this smug grin like he'd just found a twenty in his laundry. Said something gross like, you're even pewter in person. That was it. I saw red. Next thing I know, I got him face down on the pavement and people are yelling and someone's calling the cops. Nathaniel pulled me off, and we bolted. Didn't even finish our cold bruise. That one haunted me, I won't lie. Not because I felt bad for Richie, nah, he deserved worse, but because it reminded me that we were skating a fine line. One wrong move and were the ones in cuffs, not the creeps. So we adapted. Got smarter. More careful. Started using

burner phones, private messengers, VPNs. We kept logs of everything, screenshots, chat transcripts, voice memos. If it ever came down to court, we wanted to be ready. Like I said, I ain't stupid. I might be reckless, but I ain't dumb. Now let me tell you about the worst one I ever caught. This was the dude that made me question if evil was just walking around in regular ass shoes. We called him, Pastor Pete. And yeah, he actually was a pastor. Ran some tiny-ass church in the suburbs, preached about purity and abstinence and all that. Meanwhile, he was on kick trying to meet up with a 14-year-old choir girl. That one made my skin crawl. He wanted to meet behind his church after youth group. Said he'd sneak me in through the back so God wouldn't see.

I swear to you, I almost vomited on the spot. But I stayed in character, told him I'd be there. And when he showed up, I let me. Nathaniel do the honors. We tied him to the fence with zip ties and left his phone recording while he cried and begged. No punches that time. Just humiliation. Sometimes pain ain't physical. He moved away after that. Church shut down. Good riddance. It ain't always satisfying, though. Some of these guys, you beat them down, expose them, and they just vanish. Change their name, move a few towns over, rinse and repeat. It's frustrating.

Makes you feel like you're trying to mop up the ocean with a napkin. But I keep going. Because for everyone I scare off, maybe there's one kid who gets to sleep peacefully. That's worth it to me. And yeah, before you ask, I've talked to a therapist. Told her about some of it, definitely not all. She said I got unresolved anger, which, like, duh. I told her, lady, if you'd live my life, you'd be angry too.

She nodded like therapists do and said something about channeling that energy into, constructive outlets. I guess punching predators is my version of pottery class. Sometimes I think about going public with all this. Like making a docuseries or a YouTube channel or whatever. Predator Punisher Chronicles. Maybe toss in a merch line, beat creeps, not retreats. But then I remember what kind of target that would paint on my back.

These dudes got networks. Forums. Some of them got money. And I ain't trying to disappear one day because I embarrassed the wrong purve on camera. I also think about the future. Like, what happens when I get older? When I can't just swing fists anymore or chase some dude across a Walmart parking lot, Will I pass the torch to someone else?

Maybe train up a crew. Start a movement. Hell, maybe dads against predators will hire me one day. Let me do this full time. I'd sign that contract in blood. But deep down, I know I'm not invincible. One of these days, I might get caught, or hurt, or worse. And I've made peace with that.

because I'm not doing this for glory or clicks. I'm doing this because nobody did it for me. Because when I was 8th and screaming into a pillow, there was no one kicking down the door to save me. So now I kick doors. Still, I'm not all doom and gloom. I got good things going too. My girlfriend's a real one. She knows what I do and supports it, even if she's scared sometimes.

Says I come home with too many boys. bruises and not enough explanations. I just tell her it's from the gym. She doesn't believe me, but she lets it go. We've talked about adopting one day. I want that. I want to be the dad I never had. One that protects, listens, shows up. I want to raise a kid in a world that's just a little bit safer because of what I did. Maybe that's cheesy. But I don't care. Some nights I lie awake thinking about the kids I never met. The ones I might have saved just by scaring the right guy. I picture them laughing, biking down the street, living normal, boring lives. And I smile. Because boring is a luxury I never had. So yeah, maybe I'm not a hero. Maybe I'm just a pissed

off survivor with too much time on his hands. But if I can make even one predator think twice before sending that message, then I've done my part. And if you're reading this and thinking about doing something similar, be smart. Be safe. Get evidence. Don't just be rage with legs. Be a scalpel, not a sledgehammer. The goal ain't revenge. It's prevention. Anyway, that's my story. Or at least, the parts one can tell without someone knocking on my door tomorrow. I don't regret a damn. I don't regret a thing. I sleep good at night, even if my fists are sore and my phones full of fake profiles. Take care of yourselves out there. Trust your gut. And if something feels off about someone, it probably is. Be the adult you needed as a kid. And hey, don't forget what I said earlier.

Try the lottery sometime. You never know. Luck shows up when you least expect it. And yeah, I still know. it's a damn slot machine. Sue me. The end.