Sword and Scale Nightmares - Visitor

Episode Date: May 26, 2026

On April 18, 2019, 57-year-old Wilfred Guzman was at home when a familiar visit turned into a savage fight for survival. By the time police forced their way inside Apartment 16, they found blood in every room and signs that the attack had unfolded with whatever was within reach: kitchen knives, forks, spoons, even a small television. Detectives quickly pieced together what happened. What they couldn’t understand was how an ordinary late-night visit had turned so vicious.Get commercial free access to over a decade of Sword and Scale's true crime podcasts at http://swordandscale.com

Imagine if today was the day your idea changed someone's life. Imagine if you could help someone pay for college. Help your community build a new playground or help a child make it to that dream competition. With GoFundMe, it's all possible. GoFundMe is the world's number one fundraising platform trusted by over 190 million people. Every week, ordinary people meet their goals and do extraordinary things. Your ideas matter. GoFundMe isn't just for emergencies.

want to raise money for your kids' soccer team or raise funds for a small business, a creative project or event? GoFundMe helps you turn ideas into reality. And help adds up. Fundraisers you start for someone else? Raise up to five times more. So think right now.

Who could use your help? Change rarely comes from waiting. It comes from someone deciding, today I'll start. Don't wait for someone else to bring change. Today start your fundraiser in just minutes at gofundme.com. That's gofundme.com to start your fundraiser.

GoFundMe. This is a commercial message brought to you by GoFundMe. In the early morning hours of April 18, 2019, 57-year-old Wilfred Guzman is fighting for his life. He's been caught by surprise. One minute he's standing in the kitchen, and seconds later, he's being struck in the head with a kitchen knife, hard enough to snap the blade. The struggle moves through the apartment, from the kitchen to the living room, and back again. furniture is toppled by limbs flailing in the pitch black. Wilfred is determined to survive.

He holds his arms up to shield his face and blinks the blood out of his eyes, trying unsuccessfully to dodge each blow. In his blurry peripheral vision, Wilfred spots his kitchen door, an exit. It's close enough that he might be able to reach it and make his escape. Wilfred makes a run for it, gripping the knob with a slippery hand, he twists and pulls the door open. Just before his leg makes it through the threshold, he feels himself being yanked back inside. His attacker slams the door shut and turns the deadpult. Wilfred feels a force swing him around.

He feels his head smashed into a glass oven door, shattering him. it. By now the apartment is a disaster. Dars are ripped open as the attacker grabs whatever he can use as a weapon. Knives, forks, spoons, even a small television. It feels like hours have passed, but it's only been minutes. As quickly as it started, the fight inside apartment 16 comes to an end. It's silent now, except for the squelch of the intruder's bloody shoes as he steps over Wilfred's lifeless body. When investigators eventually begin piecing together what happened here, they realize they won't have to go very far to find this man's murderer.

Wilfred Guzman didn't die fighting off a stranger. He died finding someone he'd welcomed into his home. To sword and scale nightmares. True crime for bedtime. when nightmare begins now. Wilfred Guzman is 57 years old. He lived alone in his apartment in Laconia, a town in New Hampshire known as the city on the lakes.

But despite his bachelor status, Wilfred was a true family man. His children and grandchildren were the center of his life. In the spring of 2019, just before tragedy struck, Wilfred's daughter, Natasha, was away at college. But she and her father still kept in regular contact over the phone. On the evening of April 17th, a little after 10 o'clock,

Wilfred sent Natasha a simple message. It was just a single emoji, a moon. It was his way of saying good night. The timestamp on that message read 10.19 p.m. It would be the last time, anyone. heard from them. Nearly a full day later, early in the morning of April 19th, Wilfred's son arrives in Laconia with his wife and children.

The whole family's in town for Easter weekend, planning to spend the whole holiday together. Wilfred has been getting his apartment ready for their arrival. The family gets to Laconia around one in the morning. Wilfred's son walks up to the front door and knocks. There is no answer. He knocks again, waits for a moment, then calls his dad's phone. When that doesn't work, he texts and even tries a video call.

Still, nothing. At this late hour, the silence doesn't immediately seem alarming. Maybe dad has already gone to sleep. Maybe he stepped out earlier and hasn't returned yet. After trying several times, Wilfred's son eventually gives up and heads to the hotel where the rest of his family is staying. Later that day, he drives back over to his dad's, assuming he must be awake by now. As he walks down the hallway towards apartment 16, something catches his eye. Now that it's daylight, he can see a dark stain on the floor just outside the threshold to his dad's

front door. At first, he thinks it's spilled paint or something. But as he bends down for a closer inspection, he shivers. It's blood. Immediately, he calls police. When officers arrive, they knock a few times, but just like before, there's no answer. They'll have to break the door down. After a few good hits, daylight illuminates the disaster inside the unit. It looks like a rabid animal has been loose here all night. The officers step into the dim apartment, waving their flashlights around. There are small streams of light pierce the darkest corners, showing them that nearly every surface is covered in blood. A flashlight focuses on a foot, then a leg, an unconscious person on the floor. The officer moves the light towards the person's mangled face.

Wilfred's son lets out a ripping yell. That's his dad. the man who raised him. The police officers continue to scan the scene, mouths hanging open. The apartment has clear signs of a long, violent struggle. The killer had used numerous weapons during the attack, many of them pulled directly from Wilfred's own kitchen. Despite the absolute carnage inside the unit,

there are no signs of forced entry. The person responsible for this horror may have simply knocked on the door. So detectives begin the slow process of reconstructing Wilfred Guzman's final hours. They interview family members. They examine the crime scene, and more importantly, they try to determine who Wilfred spoke to in the days before his death. Then, just days after Wilfred's murder, something happens that gives the investigators their

first real lead. Someone is using... Wilfred's credit cards. On April 19th, 2019, police in Laconia, New Hampshire stepped into a nightmare scene inside apartment 16. 57-year-old

Wilfred Guzman, a beloved father and grandfather, had been brutally murdered after what investigators believed was a long, desperate fight for survival. The place was in shambles with blood covering nearly every surface, and yet there were no

signs of forced entry. Whoever killed Wilfred was invited inside. And whoever this person is, they're now trying to spend Wilfred's money. Two days after the murder, someone tries to make PlayStation purchases using Wilford's credit card. And like most things done online, it leaves a trail. Detectives follow the account activity to an internet address in Laconia. And that address leads them to a residence on Pleasant Street. The name connected to it is Hassan Sapri.

Hassan isn't a drifter or a known criminal. In fact, he's a 21-year-old who knows the Guzman family pretty well, specifically Wilfred's daughter, Natasha. Apparently, Hassan visits Wilfred roughly every other month. He's familiar enough that there would be no reason for Wilfred to hesitate when answering the door. When Laconia police take Hassan into custody, he folds under no pressure, saying, what I did was it was me 100%. Surprisingly, he waives his Miranda rights and takes detectives through the entire timeline in detail.

So, here's what happened. At around 10.30 p.m. on April 17th, Hassan drove to Wilfred's apartment on Blueberry Lane. When Hassan got to the door, Wilfred happily invited him inside. Wilfred was sort of a father figure to Hassan, and the two of them sat together in the living room and watched television while they talked. They chatted for a while, catching up on work, how their families were doing, and how Natasha was liking college. There was no tension, not even on the surface, at least.

Both men seemed to be in good spirits. It was just another late-night hangout between a couple of family friends. When the TV show ended, they moved into the kitchen. Hassan remembers eating a snack together at the table while they continued their conversation. At some point, they got into a discussion about history, which somehow led to religion. Wilfred thought he was just discussing a casual topic with someone he trusted. Hassan experienced the conversation, let's say, very differently. To him, religion and family were lines you just didn't cross.

Imagine that. Someone named Hassan with strong feelings about religion. Who would have thunk it? Anyway, Hassan had been at the apartment for hours by this point, but the calm visit quickly came to an end. History and religion. These were the topics of Wilfred's final conversation. Asan grabbed a kitchen knife, a standard one with a black plastic handle,

and stabbed Wilfred through the center of his skull. The blade snapped off its handle. Tell me again how wonderful multiculturalism is. diversity is our strength. Ain't that right, Karen. Hassan rifled through the kitchen for another weapon, swinging at Wilfred again and again. Every time one flew out of his hand or broke,

he'd open up more kitchen drawers and grab whatever he could use. Knives, forks, spoons, you name it. If there had been a spork in there, he would have tried that too. He aimed each blow at Wilfred's head with intent. Hassan knew there was a katana, a type of Japanese sword hanging on the wall in his stairwell. He left Wilfred on the kitchen floor and took the sword off the wall, leaving a bloody handprint in its place. The apartment was dark, and when Hassan got back to the kitchen, he swung hard. He tells police he thought he got Wilfred's head, or maybe his shoulder.

He's not sure. All he knows is that whatever the katana hit felt like solid bone. You've seen Kill Bill, right? The sword broke from the amount of force he was using. This is when Wilfred tried to escape. Asan stopped him, slammed the kitchen door shut, turned the deadbolt, and launched Wilfred headfirst into the oven door. As Wilfred bled, Hassan stood over him. Wilfred was dying, muttering words to himself in Spanish.

Probably words like Marikon, Iho de puta, you know, those kind of words. Hassan didn't call 911 or help Wilfred, he just stood over him, watching. At this point, investigators are no longer trying to figure out what his had been inside apartment 16 that night, they already have their answer. And the deeper horror is this. Before the apartment became a blood-soaked crime scene, the two of them had just been sitting together watching TV, eating a snack, talking politely.

There had to be something else, something that caused this night to take such a wrong turn. Up to this point, the story of Wilfred Guzman's final night had felt impossible to process. Somehow, a familiar visit turned into one of the most violent killings Laconia had ever seen. But according to the prosecution, that shift didn't happen in the kitchen. It began days earlier. Hassan Sopry had been festering with anger the entire time he chatted, watched television, and ate a meal with his so-called friend.

And that's evident in the crime scene. In Hassan's interview with police, he admitted he'd been carrying his anger around for months, but that he'd only been planning to kill Wilfred for three days. Investigators wanted to know why, or if there was a reason behind this brutality to begin with. The evidence showed how he committed this heinous crime, but no one understood why a 21-year-old with no criminal record

would murder someone he once looked up to. Hassan told him it was simple. Over the course of his relationship with Wilfred Guzman and his family, Hassan took note of the negative comments Wilfred would occasionally make. You know, microaggressions. Hassan said it had been things like racial insults directed at him, comments about his religion and instances where he witnessed Wilfred being verbally abusive towards his daughter Natasha.

Remember, Hassan really cared about Natasha. Perhaps that's where Wilfred really crossed the line in Hassan's mind. Over time, these insults multiplied and hardened until they became something Hassan just couldn't let go of. This insight into Hassan's mind in the hours before the murder really paints everything in a different light. The conversation in front of the TV feels, different, and the discussion about history and religion feels ominous.

To Wilfrid, this was a visit from someone he knew and liked. But to Hassan, this visit would be the end of their relationship for good. Then, just as investigators were beginning to understand what Hassan said had been building inside of him, the case took another turn. Because as it moved through courts, Hassan's defense team began laying out a very different explanation, or some may say excuse, for what happened that night. In June of 2021, a formally filed notice of an insanity defense. According to that filing, Hassan was not simply an angry young man nursing a grudge. He was someone who had been deeply shaped by violence long before he ever stepped inside Wilfred's apartment.

poor baby. The defense argued that his childhood was marked by war and instability. Hassan was born in Iraq, or Iraq, or Iraq. I heard it pronounce so many different ways. I don't even know how it's properly said. But in 2008, his family made their way from Baghdad to Laconia, New Hampshire, by way of Syria. Amazing how every time we go to war with the country, we inherit all of their citizens. Anyway, according to an insanity filing, Hassan had lived through extreme violence as a boy.

He and his family were living right in the middle of the war. Hassan's attorneys tried to solicit sympathy by pointing to traumatic events that included a suicide bombing at a school that killed and injured classmates, witnessing service members and his own family members dying violently in front of him, and worst of all, the abduction and torture of his father. His dad had worked as a driver and bodyguard for Western diplomats in Iraq, and because he had helped the U.S., he was kidnapped and brutally tortured by the anti-American terrorist group. So, of course, he didn't blame them, because why would you? Hassan's family ended up paying $80,000 in ransom for his release.

As soon as they let him go, the whole family fled to Syria and eventually escaped to the United States. Hassan's defense attorneys maintained that he was suffering from major mental illness and that the violence in Wilfred's kitchen could only be understood through that larger history. By the time the case finally went to trial, psychologists said, diagnosed Hassan with post-year. traumatic stress disorder, the obsessive compulsive disorder and depression. A lot of the same disorders that all of us suffer from to some extent or another. The defense, of course, didn't want to see a young man who got angry, but rather someone whose mind had been shaped and badly damaged by trauma years before Wilfred Guzman was ever

part of his life, shifting blame towards things other than the person who committed the crime. And on some level, knowing about Hassan's childhood does make you stop for a moment. It explains how a person can look ordinary on the outside while fear, humiliation, obsession, and buried rage have been accumulating for years without anyone seeing what's actually taking shape. The trial added another disturbing layer to this picture. In the days leading up to Wilfred's murder, Hassan said he'd been having nightly dreams about kill. killing people. As April of 2019 dragged on, those thoughts became harder to suppress until, by his own account,

they became unbearable. I wonder how many other Iraqi immigrants we have living in the United States share those thoughts. Or Iranian immigrants or Syrian immigrants or Saudi Arabian. I mean, that whole Middle East seems to be pretty pretty. pent up with resentment and hatred towards Americans. In case you haven't noticed. His defense team, of course, wanted the jury to hear all of these excuses

and conclude that Hassan's decision-making didn't come from a healthy mind, as if we should give a shit. They wanted jurors to see the killing as a catastrophic unraveling of someone who had already been deteriorating internally for a long time. But this explanation becomes much, harder to believe when you learn what Hassan did after he watched Wilfred slowly die on his own kitchen floor. After he was dead, Hassan stayed in Wilfred's apartment for hours, snooping around. Then he started taking things.

He grabbed Wilfred's phone, took something he thought was a taser, and he rifled through wallets for credit cards identification. and money. On the drive home, he rolled down his window and threw Wilfred's cell phone into Lake Winnisquam. Yeah, that's how I said it. By the next morning, while Wilfred's family was trying to reach him for Easter weekend, Hassan was already attempting to use those stolen credit cards online. That digital trail is what led detectives back to Hassan's address.

When investigators searched his room, they found Wilfred's. belongings there, along with bloodstained clothing, gloves, tissues, and the handle of a broken knife matching the butcher block set from Wilfred's kitchen. They also found paperwork showing Hassan had sought treatment for serious hand injuries after the murder. He had apparently driven around to different hospitals in New London and Lebanon before noticing police in that area. At that point, he broke into a house and started hiding out there. All of this is what made the defense so difficult for a jury to accept, which is a shame because American juries are willing to accept all kinds of nonsense.

His childhood was horrific. There's no question about that. The trauma was real. The psychological damage was real. And his attorneys wanted jurors to understand that the violence in Wilfred's kitchen didn't just come out of nowhere. They wanted everyone to see it was the culmination of years of war, fear, grief, and mental illness, of course. But the prosecution asked the jury to look at the whole picture, not just the trauma or the diagnosis, but the days of planning, the calculated way Hassan carried

out the murder after hours of casual conversation, the coldness of it all, the inhumanity. The time he spent in the apartment afterwards, the theft, the dumped phone, the attempts to use Wilfrid's credit cards, the hospital visits, and the hiding out in a random house. None of that looked like confusion or a mind untethered from reality. It looked like someone who knew exactly what he was doing and exactly what he needed to do to protect himself. In the end, that was the question the jury had to end. answer. Not whether Hassan had killed Wilfred, but whether he should be held responsible for it. The jury returned its verdict in September of 2025. They found Hassan guilty on seven counts, including first-degree murder. In the end, Wilfred Guzman didn't die because he opened his

door to a stranger. He welcomed in someone he knew and trusted, someone who sat in his living room, who ate at his table and talked with him like any other guest. And that's what makes this story so unsettling. It's the idea that a person can sit across from you in the warmth of your home, speak to you like a friend, accept your hospitality, and then in the span of a moment, become unimaginably violent.

There is no way to prepare. care for that. No instinct that reliably warns you. No alarm system that will protect you. Sometimes the danger isn't outside the door trying to get in. Sometimes it's already inside, smiling back at you. But if you can't, consider leaving us a positive review on your preferred listening platform. Sweet dreams. And goodnight.