The Lets Read Podcast - 157: I WAS BEST FRIENDS WITH A SOCIOPATH | 21 True Scary Stories | EP 145

Episode Date: October 18, 2022

This episode includes narrations of true creepy encounters submitted by normal folks just like yourself. Today you'll experience horrifying stories about Best Friends, Movie Theatres, & Abductions... HAVE A STORY TO SUBMIT?► www.Reddit.com/r/LetsReadOfficial FOLLOW ME ON - ►YouTube - https://www.youtube.com/c/letsreadofficial ► Instagram - https://www.instagram.com/letsread.official/ ► Twitter - https://twitter.com/LetsReadCreepy ♫ Background Music & Audio Remastering: INEKT https://www.instagram.com/_inekt/ PATREON for EARLY ACCESS!►http://patreon.com/LetsRead

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And naturally, due to the immense natural beauty of the area, Uluru has been a popular tourist destination for almost a hundred years. The Chamberlain's first day and night camping in Uluru were relatively uneventful, and the family passed the time relaxing at their campsite while their children played atop the red, sandy earth. Keeping an eye on seven and four-year-old sons Aiden and Regan proved to be a handful, as their parents had welcomed their daughter Azaria into the world just two months prior. Some might argue that it was a little too soon after labor to go on a camping trip, but the pregnancy had been a hard one, and both Lindy and Michael Chamberlain were desperately

in need of some rest and relaxation. But the trip would ultimately prove to be anything but relaxing, and would in fact turn out to be every parent's worst nightmare. According to both Michael and Lindy Chamberlain, they had first spotted a pack of dingoes shortly after they had made camp on August 16th. A dingo is a kind of Australian wild dog, one with a remarkably similar appearance to contemporary domesticated dogs. But that's where the similarities to our familiar furry friend ends, as dingoes are said to be considerably faster, stronger, and much more ferocious than domesticated canines. It became apparent that the dingoes could smell

the family's food cooking away on a small camping stove, and slowly but surely they edged closer and closer to the camp. At first, the closer encounter with such wild creatures thrilled the Chamberlains, with Michael even tossing them a few sandwich crusts for them to feed on. Yet unbeknownst to him, that would prove to be a huge mistake. For the previous two years, Uluru Chief Ranger Derek Roth had been writing to the local government to warn them of an uptick in the region's dingo population. Due to an abundance of natural prey, the years leading up to 1980 saw an explosion in the number of dingo packs that roamed the region. Increased numbers caused a strain on the dingo's natural sources of prey, and soon more and

more packs were finding themselves with considerably less to eat. As a result, dingo packs were becoming increasingly aggressive, approaching and sometimes biting people, and Derek Roff warned that it wasn't long before something terrible occurred. Which is why when Michael Chamberlain threw those crusts and the dingoes identified the family as the source of potential food, he'd inadvertently put his family in serious danger. Then, around 8pm, Michael and Lindy put their children to bed and returned to the campfire to get a moment alone together. Sometime later, the couple heard something moving around the tent where their children were sleeping. Assuming it was just one of them rolling around in their sleep, they didn't seem to think much of it.

But when they heard one of their young sons cry out in terror, the couple leapt into action. They arrived at the tent, finding that each of their young sons were terrified but otherwise unharmed. Azaria, however, was nowhere to be seen. The Chamberlains asked their sons where Azaria was, but they didn't have an answer. Each had been asleep and they were awoken by some rustling at the mouth of the tent, but it was far too dark and far too sudden for them to work out exactly what it was. Each had been asleep and they were awoken by some rustling at the mouth of the tent, but it was far too dark and far too sudden for them to work out exactly what it was. The two parents searched frantically around the nearby area, but not a trace of their daughter could be found, and the sad truth was that neither Michael nor Lindy would ever see their baby girl again. But that's not what makes this abduction story so horrifying,

as the pain and suffering of the family didn't end with the abduction of their daughter. And for Lindy in particular, things were about to get unimaginably worse. As you might imagine, police were called in and the campsite was blocked off before forensic examiners poured over the tents and surrounding area. They noted animal prints on the floor of the tent, and a park ranger found what he believed to be dingo tracks leading from the tent and off in the direction of some rocks near the base of Uluru. Police followed the faint trail, and to their horror, found bloodstained clothes belonging to the two-month-old Azaria. The initial inquest into Azaria's disappearance was opened in Alice Springs on December 18th of 1980. Two days later, in the first ever live broadcast of Australian

court proceedings, Magistrate Dennis Barrett ruled that the most likely explanation for the child's disappearance was a dingo attack. However, Barrett had a rather chilling addendum to his statement, adding that following the initial dingo attack, the body of Azaria was taken from the possession of the dingo and disposed of by an unknown method, by a person or persons name unknown. This is based on the fact that there seemed to be evidence suggesting that someone had actually undone some buttons at some point after Azaria had been taken. This was a horrifying enough revelation from the parent of any missing child, but the police's conclusions turned a living nightmare into marching through hell when they accused Lindy Chamberlain of murdering her own child.

Northern Territory police and prosecutors had always suspected Lindy's involvement in the disappearance of her own daughter, and even after the investigation was officially concluded, officers continued to work the case. This led to a second inquest in September of 1981. Based on ultraviolet photographs of Azaria's jumpsuit, medical experts alleged that there was a tiny cut around the neck of the baby's jumpsuit recovered from the surrounding bush. Essentially, they were implying that someone had cut a two-month-old baby's throat, that someone was evil enough to murder

young Azaria Chamberlain. And in their view, that person was her own mother. We can only imagine the horror of the moment Lindy was accused of killing her own tiny baby. The universe had somehow found the one solitary way of compounding the mind-breaking grief she was experiencing. It was like a sick cosmic joke, and she no doubt told herself that it couldn't be happening. Only it was. It was reality. Lindy was about to stand trial for the murder of her own newborn baby. At her trial, the state prosecution had alleged that at some point, and with her husband's consent, Lindy had gotten up from the campfire and walked over to the tent in which her children slept.

She then carried a sleeping Azaria to their family's car, changed into a pair of tracksuit pants that she intended to subsequently dispose of, then used a pair of scissors to cut her two-month-old daughter's throat. Then, according to prosecuting attorneys, Lindy held her baby upside down by the ankle and waited for it to bleed to death. Expert witnesses claim that there was no evidence of arterial bleeding from the jumpsuit bloodstains, and it would take up to 20 minutes for Azaria to die if her mother had cut her jugular vein and not her aorta. Allegedly, when Lindy was sure that Azaria was dead, she hid the body of her young daughter in a camera case and tried not only to clean up any blood that had gotten on the car, but also to collect enough of it to smear on the interior of the children's tent

to simulate some kind of animal attack. The prosecution said she did all that without ever attracting the attention of any other camper, and that this all went unnoticed during the first inquest due to a combination of luck, careful concealment, and painstaking planning on the Chamberlain's part. Lindsay's defense lawyer focused on eyewitness statements which detailed the dingoes that were in the area on the night of August 17th. It also pointed out that many of the tests used by the prosecution to prove that Azaria's blood was in the car were faulty, and showed that mucus and chocolate milkshakes also tested positive for blood using these same techniques. The defense also called on a man named Les Harris, who at the time had been conducting research into the Australian dingo population for well

over ten years. It was him that testified that a dingo's carnassial teeth can shear through material as tough as motor vehicle seatbelts. He also cited an example of a captive female dingo removing a bundle of meat from its wrapping paper and leaving the paper intact. To the Chamberlains, it seemed like a foregone conclusion. There was an airtight explanation for their daughter's disappearance, a tragic one, but surely no jury would favor the idea of a mother murdering her baby daughter over the increasing encroachment of aggressive predatory animals. But, they did. On October 29th of 1982, a jury of her peers found Lindy Chamberlain guilty of the murder of her own baby girl, with the judge then handing down a sentence of life imprisonment.

Her husband Michael was found guilty as an accessory after the fact and was given an 18-month suspended prison sentence. As she was dragged away, a horrified Lindy Chamberlain loudly protested her innocence, apparently screaming out, a dingo ate my baby, before bailiffs managed to escort her from court. I think it's objectively difficult to imagine how horrendous it would be to lose a child, only then to be convicted of that child's murder. In the prison she was held in, Lindy found she was the subject of a phenomenal amount of hatred. To her fellow inmates, she was a child killer, the lowest of the low. Those that had it

in them to kill children, to kill babies, didn't deserve to live themselves, and as a result, Lindy had to be held in a special wing of the prison reserved normally for those in protective custody. She was in a unit with actual child killers, predators and abusers that looked at her and thought, one of us The trauma of that no doubt played a part in Lindy repeatedly lodging appeals Two of which were quashed by both the federal and high courts of Australia For almost six long years, Lindy remained in prison trying to keep it together, trying to fight on But there came a time where she believed that her luck had run out Lindy remained in prison, trying to keep it together, trying to fight on. But there came a time where she believed that her luck had run out,

and that she was doomed to spend the rest of her life in prison for something she hadn't done, something she'd never even think about doing. It's believed that her outlook became so bleak that she considered taking her own life. But every time, thoughts of Michael and her two young sons kept her from entertaining such masochistic ideas. And it's a good job too, because in early 1986, an unforeseen event would once again turn the media spotlight back onto the disappearance of Azaria Chamberlain.

And in the bizarre twist of fate, justice would bloom out of yet another untimely death. David Brett had a passion for climbing, and sometime in the mid-1980s, David decided he'd combine his love of mountaineering with an Australian vacation to a bird's eye view of the land down under. But as it would turn out, David's attempt to climb Uluru would be the last thing he'd ever do, as he tragically fell to his death during a routine climb in early 1986. Because of the vast size of the rock and the scrubby nature of the surrounding terrain, it was eight days before Brett's remains were discovered, lying below the bluff where he had lost his footing.

His body showed evidence of having been picked over by some kind of scavenger, and this is how search and rescue operators found the dingo lair just meters away from David's body. To ensure the dingoes hadn't dragged any of David's body parts into the cave with them, operators scoured the cave for potential remains and came across something stunning. It was a tiny baby-sized matinee jacket, one that had belonged to none other than Azaria Chamberlain. The Chief Minister of the Northern Territory ordered Lindy Chamberlain's immediate release and reopened the investigation into Azaria's disappearance. Then, on September 15th of 1988, the Northern Territory Court of Criminal Appeals unanimously

overturned all convictions against Lindy and Michael Chamberlain, and they were officially declared not guilty of their daughter's murder. Two years later, the Chamberlains were awarded $1.3 million in compensation for wrongful imprisonment, a sum that covered less than one-third of their legal expenses. They were outraged. They wanted an apology. They wanted justice. But what the Australian government chose to give them was a slap in the face. It took until February of 2012 for the Northern Territory Coroner, Elizabeth Morris, to offer an official apology for the injustice the Chamberlains had faced. But by then, it was too little too late, and the horror of what the family endured

could never be erased or forgotten. But perhaps what's more abstractly horrifying about the accusation of Lindy Chamberlain was just how willing the general public were to believe that she killed her baby. By all accounts, the media's representation of the case was highly polarizing, and the case is now used as an example of how media and bias can adversely affect a trial. There have been many accounts of people spreading fanciful rumors or making sick jokes about the child's disappearance, and how newspapers were keen to sell a story of an evil, murderous mother simply because it sold more copies.

People also judged Lindy on the way in which she grieved, with some saying her media appearances made her look cold and unsympathetic. They said she didn't cry enough, that she didn't seem broken enough, and as a result, people chose not to believe her. Much was made of the Chamberlain's Seventh-day Adventist religion, including false allegations that the church was actually a cult that killed infants as a part of a bizarre religious ceremony. At one point, police received an anonymous tip from a man who claimed to be a close associate of the Chamberlains and that Azaria was a name that meant sacrifice in the wilderness in some ancient satanic language. According to the Chamberlains, Azaria actually

means blessed by God And by all accounts, the man was nothing more than a lunatic But it goes to show just how willing people were to paint Lindy as some kind of witch And much like the witches of Salem, Massachusetts Lindy was publicly sacrificed to satisfy some primal craving for justice Like it couldn't have been an accident, it had to have been someone's fault. Someone had to be sacrificed.

Azaria's death became such a worldwide phenomenon that it's been referenced in all kinds of media, including the Simpsons and Buffy the Vampire Slayer. In fact, you probably heard the phrase, dingoes ate my baby, way before you even knew what a dingo was, and there's a good reason for that. It's because the world is a big, scary place, and it's still full of monsters. And the idea that even in 1980, nature could still reach out and hurt us, so seemingly randomly, for many, that was a bitter pill to swallow. Born on January 17th of 1991, Lauren Spear was the daughter of Charlene and Robert,

an accountancy couple from Scarsdale, New York. After graduating from Edgemont High School in 2009, Lauren enrolled at Indiana University. She was an active and good-natured young student and volunteered for many charitable causes. For example, she had spent the previous spring break planting trees in Israel on behalf of the Jewish National Fund, combining her two passions of travel and public service. As you can imagine, Lauren's attitude made her a very popular young woman, and her circle of friends seems to have been a consistent and positive one. You see, Lauren had met her college boyfriend, Jesse Wolfe, as well as her best friend, Jay Rosenbaum, during a summer camp in the hillside town of Honesdale, PA, and a handful of her other close friends at Indiana University had also attended the summer camp. The point is, it seemed that Lauren was part of a tight-knit unit of friends who both loved and trusted one another,

which makes it all the more alarming when we learn what happened to her. On the night of Thursday, June 2nd, 2011, Lauren and her friends visited the nearby Kilroy Sports Bar. In an effort to save on what little cash they had, Lauren and her friends partook in what's known as pre-gaming, where people drink store-bought alcohol before going out to a bar or club. The group of friends were also notorious for only venturing out into the night during the wee small hours. of crowd, keeping their bar open until 4 in the morning, and CCTV footage from that night doesn't show Lauren and her friends arriving until about 1.46am. For the first 45 minutes or so, everything appears relatively normal. Lauren and her friends have drinks, they dance, they play pool, everything you might expect from a group of college kids soaking up the nightlife. But then, around 2.27 in the morning, Lauren's behavior takes a somewhat bizarre turn. It's around then that Lauren gets up and walks out of the bar,

leaving her cell phone on the bar top and her shoes on the floor near her seat. After exiting Kilroy's, she is then quickly followed by a friend named Corey Rossman. Rossman seems confused as to why Lauren left her things behind, but seems only too happy to follow her back to her apartment complex. At exactly 2.30am, Corey and Lauren enter the small wood plaza apartments complex that Laura called home. It's here they remain for exactly 28 minutes before CCTV once again captures them leaving the apartment complex. Only instead of walking back to the bar, where Lauren's phone and shoes are still sitting there, Lauren and Corey walk down an alleyway that connects College

Avenue and Morton Street. The same alley where Lauren's purse and apartment keys would be found the following day. CCTV footage then catches Lauren and Corey arriving at the latter's apartment at around 3 in the morning. This footage shows Lauren to be a little worse for wear, but Corey Rossman is somehow absolutely trash by this point. Corey's roommate, Michael Beth, later said that he had to clean up a puddle of vomit that Corey left in the stairwell that same night, and that Corey was so drunk that he had to be put to bed. Michael added that once this was done, he then tried to persuade Lauren to sleep over for her own safety. However, Lauren insisted that she wanted to return to her own apartment, probably citing her need to find her missing possessions. And so at 3.30am, Michael Beth called Lauren's friend Jay Rosenbaum, telling him he needed to come take care of her. We can only assume he answered in the affirmative because a short

while later, Lauren shows up at Jay's apartment with a rather large bruise under her eye. Jay later said that he was worried about the injury but after Lauren told him she didn't know how she'd obtained the bruise, Jay assumed she'd gotten it during a drunken fall from earlier in the evening. However, of all the CCTV footage we have of Lauren and her friends, there are no recorded incidents of falling and no recorded incidences of people fussing over her eye, which we could then use to estimate the time and place of such an injury. By 4.30am, Lauren hasn't had an alcoholic drink in over two hours and is no doubt beginning to sober up. Granted, she wouldn't

have been in the best condition of her life, but she is no doubt realizing that she's lost pretty much everything she brought out with her, being her phone, keys, shoes, and purse. In light of this, we can understand why Lauren was reluctant to sleep it off when she could actively go about recovering some of her lost items. Lauren then left Jay Rosenbaum's apartment at around 4.30 that morning, last being sighted on CCTV footage headed south from the intersection of 11th Street and College Avenue. Several hours later, Lauren's boyfriend, Jesse Wolfe, sent her a text which she failed to reply to. And when reply did finally roll in, it was from an employee of Kilroy's sports bar, saying Lauren had left her phone there overnight.

Not long after, given he had zero means of getting in touch with her, no one had seen her that morning. Jesse contacted the local campus police to report Lauren missing. After three weeks of fruitless search, August of 2011 saw local police and FBI agents undertake a week-long search of the nearby Sycamore Ridge landfill site. Needless to say, it wasn't looking good for Lauren, as cops were evidently looking for a body, or more accurately, parts of a body, as opposed to a living, breathing person. But despite their efforts, law enforcement didn't manage to find a single shred of evidence

that clued them into Lauren's condition or where she might be. The investigation dragged on for years without a break, and this is in spite of more than 3,000 tips called in from the general public. Then, on the morning of April 25th, 2015, a hint of Lauren's fate was unearthed not far from where she went missing, yet it goes without saying that it was not a good one. The lifeless corpse of a University of Indiana student, Hannah Wilson, was discovered in neighboring Brown County. She was last seen getting into a taxi in front of the very same bar that Lauren had visited on the night of her disappearance.

Lying on the ground near her body was a cell phone, one that police determined was owned by a local 50-year-old man by the name of Daniel Messel. He was arrested, tried, and convicted of Hannah's murder, and police deduced that he might well be the same person responsible for Lauren Spearer's disappearance too. However, in July of that same year, nationally renowned private investigator Bo Dietl concluded that after his own extensive investigation, he'd found nothing to seriously link Hannah's murder to Lauren's apparent abduction,

and any similarities were purely coincidental. Yet right when it seemed that all hope was lost, the winter that followed Hannah Wilson's murder saw the FBI pursue its first serious lead. In the early hours of January 28th, 2016, FBI agents were assisted by local law enforcement in serving a search warrant to a property in the 2900 block of Old Morgantown Road in Martinsville, approximately 20 miles north of Bloomington. The rather dry official statement from law enforcement was that they were following up on leads and tips in Morgan County regarding the disappearance of Lauren Spearer. But in reality, they had strong suspicions that a man named Justin Wagers was responsible for her murder or abduction Wagers, who lived with his mother and stepfather, had been named and identified on multiple occasions

As having exposed himself to local women during incidents that were characterized by aggressive and generally terrifying displays of depravity. Cops let cadaver dogs loose in the wager's home and found that they indicated for human remains in a nearby barn. However, after conducting a dig and sifting dirt from the floor of the structure, investigators found zero evidence of anyone having been buried there. As the years went by, Lauren's parents sadly announced that they believed their daughter to be deceased. Yet they've also been very open about their suspicions that someone very close to her may have been involved in her disappearance. Not only have they wondered aloud if someone might have slipped something in her drink while she was at Kilroy's,

they also had no qualms with casting suspicion on the men she was with that night. Lauren's boyfriend at the time, Jesse Wolfe, has also professed his distrust of Corey Rossman, Michael Beth, and Jay Rosenbaum, as not only did all three refuse to take police-issued polygraph tests, but all three lawyered up in the days following her disappearance, apparently completely unprompted to do so, as she was still considered very much alive at that time. Rossman, Beth, and Rosenbaum then publicly stated that they had passed privately administered polygraph tests, which apparently proved their innocence. They were also completely unapologetic regarding them hiring attorneys and stated that their refusal to

cooperate with Bloomington police was down to them not trusting law enforcement. A theory was batted around that Lauren may have died as a result of a drug overdose, one resulting from narcotics obtained from either Rossman, Beth, or Rosenbaum. If that was the case, it's plausible that all three or a combination of the men could have conspired to dispose of her body so that their guilt would never be suspected. Obviously, hiring lawyers and refusing to take a polygraph doesn't exactly make the three guys look good. But in all fairness, it's highly inadvisable to talk to police officers without a lawyer present, especially since all three guys knew well their friend was missing.

With Moore, polygraphs are so unreliable that they're no longer admissible in court, and the police were most likely just looking to get the three guys in an interview room so they could browbeat them into incriminating themselves. So, in light of that, we have to consider other options. But having exhausted the possibilities of either Daniel Messel or Justin Wager having killed her, time and time again we're forced to consider the accidental overdose angle. I truly don't think it was a random abduction. I think that somebody that Lauren knew was responsible for the events of that evening,

her mother publicly stated in 2014, and she may well be correct. Statistically, most people are murdered by someone they know, sometimes pretty intimately too. And it doesn't seem out of the question that those three young men with big bright futures ahead of them wouldn't want to throw them away by admitting they'd given a girl too much to drink or too much of something a little less than legal. So as much as people focus on stranger danger, or of that random creeper who becomes the source of their untimely demise, maybe people should start looking a little closer to home, to those who profess to love or care for us, who might actually disappear us, dispose of our body, or bury our names, just to protect themselves. We'll be right back. Toyo's open country family of tires will get you through tough weather in a variety of terrains. Until May 31st, save up to $100 in rebates on select Toyo tires.

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19 plus to wager Ontario only. Please gamble responsibly. If you have questions or concerns about gambling or someone close to you, please contact Connex Ontario at 1-866-531-2600 to speak to an advisor free of charge. BetMGM operates pursuant to an operating agreement with iGaming Ontario. Daphne Westbrook's upbringing wasn't one we would call easy. In 2011, when she was just seven years old, her parents John and Rona went through some of the most bitterly nasty and spiteful divorce proceedings one can imagine. Rona began petitioning the court of Hamilton County, Tennessee for primary custody of Daphne in March of 2016. A judge then ruled in her favor,

stating that John would only have custody of Daphne every other weekend, as well as ordering him to pay a substantial amount in child support. Rona added that her daughter started to thrive when she received primary custody, adding that she became more outgoing, got her first job, and generally seemed more happy. On top of that, her performance at Chattanooga State Collegiate High dramatically improved, and soon Daphne envisioned herself graduating with both her high school diploma and an associate's degree. Then, on October of 2019, Daphne went over to Chattanooga to spend the weekend with her father. Two days later, Daphne told her mom that she may be arriving home a little later than usual, as she and a friend wanted to take her father's dog for a walk.

Her mother agreed, but Daphne failed to return home. Rona immediately called all of the friends of Daphne's that she had contact details for, but none seemed to have made any plans with her. Unable to get her daughter on the phone, Rona panicked and reported her missing. She didn't hear back from her daughter for two days, and when she called, Daphne seemed angry that her mother had filed a police report. She stated emphatically that she wasn't missing, but as Rona tried to reason with her, Daphne hung up the phone. It was a week before Rona and Daphne spoke again. As soon as Daphne answered her phone, Rona noticed that she was talking in a strange tone of voice,

and when her mother asked her where she was, Daphne flat out refused to say. Rona then asked who Daphne was with, but again, she completely refused to reveal any other information other than she was okay. When Rona pressed her for more details, Daphne hung up the phone. As you can imagine, Rona was absolutely terrified for her daughter's well-being and actively began scouring social media for any clues of Daphne's whereabouts. They had mentioned some friends, check-ins, or recently posted photographs. It's believed that these efforts along with posting comments which inquired about Daphne's location caused someone to send a short video to Rona. Yet instead of giving her any solid answers, the video did nothing but terrify Rona,

along with raising many questions as to what in God's name was going on. The video is shot in almost complete darkness, so much so that Rona began to question if the girl in the video was even her daughter to begin with. Moments after she'd watched the clip, the anonymous sender of the video message suddenly deleted it, and to this day it's not clear who exactly sent it, be it Daphne's father, a third party, or even Daphne herself. Preliminary investigations led both police and Daphne's immediate family to believe she had simply run away from home. It was common knowledge that she'd struggled with mental illness and that she'd not responded well

to the news of her father's work-related departure for Colorado. After confessing to having thoughts of taking her own life in the same year she disappeared, Daphne's depression had been treated with medication, and she was beginning to show signs of improvement. However, Rona mentioned that her ex-husband had been extremely critical of the decision to medicate Daphne, and had forbidden her from seeing a doctor or taking her pills whenever she was in his custody. Detectives believe that denying her access to her meds was partially to blame for any apparent decline in Daphne's physical or emotional state, further emphasizing the need to find her and bring her home. Her mother, stepfather, and grandparents pleaded for her to reach out

and let them know she was safe, but to no avail. Neither Daphne or her father ever tried to reach out to them again. As for Daphne's father, John Westbrook, it was initially speculated that he had nothing to do with his daughter's disappearance, as he actually cooperated with police for a brief time around the beginning of 2020. Even Daphne's maternal grandparents seemed satisfied that John wasn't to blame, and it seemed he'd at least made an effort to play the concerned and loving father. Yet it soon became obvious that John was lying, and after his immediate family members demanded that he cut the nonsense and bring his daughter back to them,

John simply dropped off the face of the earth. By June of 2020, he had officially been charged with custodial interference, but it's clear that John had no intention of facing these charges as around the same time they were filed, animal shelter records from Albuquerque, New Mexico showed John had stopped by to pick up one of Daphne's dogs, which had apparently gotten loose at some point during their journey. This was all the confirmation that law enforcement needed to conclude that Daphne was most probably in the company of her father, as there was no way she'd have allowed herself to part with her dogs. It was just a case of tracking them down. Yet unless they could be sure that she was being held against her will, all of law enforcement's efforts would be in vain.

But it wasn't difficult to make a case for her abduction. Daphne wasn't always the happiest of girls, but she was tight with her close-knit circle of friends. In the custody of her mom, Daphne was constantly back and forth with her girlfriends using various social media apps. But in the company of her father, her communication became sporadic and increasingly melancholy. What's more, law enforcement began to piece together a picture of Daphne's father, a man who was far more dangerous and ruthless than they could have possibly imagined. John Westbrook made his living in IT, specifically in the field of cyber security. He was also very well versed in bitcoin and blockchain technology

in general, and police believed he was using his expertise to conceal his movements. Since the father and daughter were so difficult to reach on their cell phones, law enforcement deducted that their cell phones were virtually always wrapped in aluminum foil to prevent incoming and outgoing calls. They also assumed that John was either denying his daughter the use of her laptop or at least installed applications that essentially made her invisible online. There was also no danger of John running out of money and being forced into a mistake that way, as it was determined that he had not only invested a sizable amount of money in Bitcoin, but he was able to work small IT jobs on the fly. And what little information the cops were able to obtain only served to make John

Westbrook seem like an even more intimidating figure. In the time since he disappeared, the cops estimated John to have used at least 15 different email addresses, 10 ID cards with varying pseudonyms, and at least three different vehicles. It also became apparent that John purchased hair dye and a set of false teeth, leading police to believe that he may have developed an elaborate disguise in order to avoid capture. The situation wasn't looking good. Law enforcement knew that they were dealing with a shrewd and resourceful man who could very well remain one step ahead of them at all times. They couldn't shut down his assets. They couldn't trace him online. For all intents and purposes, he was a phantom, one they'd have to rely on lost dogs to catch. We've contacted the Interpol Crimes

Against Children unit and it's impossible to trace what he's doing, said a member of the Hamilton County District Attorney's Office. Yet perhaps most disturbing of all, the DA went on to allege that John Westbrook was actually drugging his daughter to prevent her escape. We believe Daphne has this odd affection to him now because, prior to her disappearance, John would give her alcohol, marijuana, LSD, and mushrooms. And he's now, we know from recent witness interviews, that she's constantly drugged and or drinking alcohol provided by him. Shortly after the disappearance at the Albuquerque dog shelter, John and Daphne went dark and didn't

resurface until February of 2021, when a Bible belonging to Daphne was found discarded in a garbage can outside of a Trader Joe's outlet in Santa Fe. Police believed that they were closing in on the pair, but it appears they acted too hastily, as Daphne then found a way to contact a friend to say that they were on the move again, that she wanted to take her own life. This gave the apparent abduction a new sense of urgency, and on February of 2021, John was charged with aggravated kidnapping and flagrant non-support.

The FBI went public for the first time, releasing statements that Daphne was in danger and asking the citizens of Colorado and New Mexico to keep their eyes peeled. Due to the increase in media attention, there were several reported sightings in places like Gunnison, Colorado, Seattle, Washington, and Tampa, Florida, but nothing that could be confirmed as concrete fact. Yet slowly but surely, more and more reports came in from Florida, phoned in by people convinced that they just sighted Daphne and John Westbrook. There was one from Fort Walton Beach on March 6th, and another from Sebring just a few days later. It's then that authorities discovered a relative of John's named Starla just so happened to live in Sebring, Florida. So sometime during the week of March 5th, authorities executed a search warrant at Starla's home and seized all of her

electronics. Each device was analyzed but not a single shred of evidence could be found, and once again, all Rona could do was pray for her daughter's safe return. She's been taken away from everyone she knew, her friends, everything. All just gone. Vanished, Rona said. And I don't have enough words for that. The things that we have learned are very scary and very disturbing. We're just so eager to find her and so that we can help. Then on May 28th of 2021, the Amber Alert regarding Daphne's abduction was cancelled. But unlike so many cases where the story ends with finding a dead body, a now 18-year-old Daphne Westbrook was found safe and sound in Sampson, Alabama,

only 9 miles away from Florida state lines. Although it's not clear what condition the young girl is in, we can be thankful that she turned up alive in a world where so many abductees do not. Hamilton County District Attorney's Office released a statement on Facebook which read, We are thankful Daphne is safe and no longer being held by her father. It is especially gratifying to be able to tell her mom that Daphne is free and no longer being hidden. But this doesn't change our goal to find and prosecute John Westbrook. Our investigations remain active and we expect new developments within the next couple of weeks. It'll be interesting to see just how this case unfolds over the next year or so.

If John Westbrook will, or even can, be caught, and if he is, how in God's name is he going to justify giving his teenage daughter hallucinogenic drugs? Was it a way to control her depression without conventional medication, or was it simply a dangerous and nefarious way to control a person he believed belonged to him? Did love push a father to protect his daughter in some pretty unconventional ways? Or did that love become twisted up until he could justify just about any maltreatment in order to keep her to himself? We'll be right back. Toyo's open country family of tires will get you through tough weather in a variety of terrains. Until May 31st, save up to $100 in rebates on select Toyo tires. Find a Toyo TreadExperts dealer near you at TreadExperts.ca slash locations.

From tires to auto repair, we're always there. TreadExperts.ca On the morning of Tuesday, September 20th of 1988, 19-year-old Tara Calico left her home in Belen, New Mexico to begin her daily bike ride along New Mexico State Road. Cycling was her favorite form of exercise, and she chose a route she'd ridden every morning, without fail, for years by that point, and was often accompanied by her mother, Patty Dole. However, in recent weeks, Patty had ceased to join her daughter in her daily rides after one particularly frightening incident in which she believed the pair had been stalked by an angry motorist. Patty had implored her daughter to stop cycling at that time in the morning, or to at least take a different route, but her daughter rejected the idea and said her mother was overreacting when it was suggested that she carry mace. That Tuesday morning, Tara had noticed one of her hamstrings feeling a little tight. She mentioned this to her mother and added that if she wasn't home by 12, it was because she was probably injured.

In which case, her mother was to drive down the regular route to give her and her bike a ride back. We can also assume that Tara desperately wanted to be back around that time, as she had a date at around 12.30 and wanted time to get ready. And indeed, when Tara failed to return by noon, Patty drove down their usual cycling route, but couldn't locate her daughter. But what she did find were the broken pieces of what was unmistakably Tara's Sony Walkman. Patty immediately contacted the police, suggesting the broken pieces might represent some kind of trail for them to follow. Police did indeed follow the trail of broken plastic, but to no avail. Several witnesses were interviewed, each saying they had seen Tara riding her bike along the state road.

One or two even added that they had noticed a light-colored pickup truck following closely behind her, but hadn't really thought anything of it at the time. Police cast a wide net in the search that followed, but not a single trace of Tara or her bicycle could be found. It was as if though she'd ridden into a black hole, like she'd just dropped off the face of the earth. Yet little did they know, they would be seeing Tara again. Only the circumstances in which they'd see her would be truly terrifying. On the evening of June 15th, 1989, a woman in Port St. Joe, Florida stopped at a local convenience store.

She pulled into a free parking space next to a large white windowless Toyota cargo van, and as she got out, noted that it was being driven by a mustachioed Caucasian man who appeared to be in his thirties. She then walked into the store, picked up a few choice items, then headed back out to her vehicle. The Toyota cargo van was gone, but lying in the empty parking spot was a small square Polaroid photograph. At first glance, the picture appeared to be of two people lying among some bedding, but on further inspection, the contents of the photograph made the woman's blood run cold.

It showed a young boy of maybe only 7 or 8, along with a young woman in her late teens. Each appeared to have their wrists bound behind their backs with a strip of duct tape covering each of their mouths. She immediately contacted local law enforcement, who in turn set up road blocks to intercept the vehicle. But the van was never found, and the driver never identified. Representatives from the Polaroid company offered to analyze the picture, before informing police that the picture could have been taken no earlier than May of 1989, as the kind of material used to print the photo was not available until then. The Polaroid's discovery sparked a frenzy of interest in the national media,

and Patty Dole was contacted by friends who believed the gagged girl looked an awful lot like Tara. The FBI then brought the photograph to Patty, who was then on convinced that the girl in the picture was her missing daughter. She cited the scar on the bound girl's leg, one that was identical to one Tara had received as a result of a car accident. Patty also noticed that a paperback copy of V.C. Andrews' novel My Sweet Adrena can be seen lying next to the girl, a book that just so happened to be Tara's all-time favorite. The United Kingdom's Scotland Yard analyzed the photo and conclusively agreed that the woman in the picture was indeed Tara, but a follow-up analysis by the Los Alamos National Laboratory disagreed,

citing differences in the girl's facial structure. However, when the FBI conducted a third analysis of the photo, the results were inconclusive. They were 75% sure it was her, just enough to officially declare it as it might muddy or misdirect any potential investigation. The other young person in the picture was thought to be young Michael Henley, also of New Mexico, who had disappeared just a few months before Tara had. Michael's mother said that she too was almost certain that it was her young son tied up in the Polaroid. Yet this is considered highly unlikely as Michael's remains were discovered

in June 1990 in the Zuni Mountains, less than 10 miles from the family's campsite he vanished from. Police believe that Michael simply wandered off and subsequently died of exposure, and if that were the case, there was no way the child in the van could be him. Two other possible Polaroid photographs of Tara had surfaced in the years since her disappearance, the first being discovered near a construction site in the small town of Montecito, California. It is a blurry photo of a girl's face, with tape covering her mouth and light blue striped fabric behind her. Many have noted the blatant similarities between the fabric to that on the pillow in the Toyota van photo. It was taken on film that was not available until June 1989. The second Polaroid depicts a woman loosely bound in gauze. Her eyes are covered with yet more gauze and large black framed glasses,

and she's standing with a male passenger beside her on an abandoned Amrak train. The film used was not available until February 1990. Calico's mother believed the first was definitely Tara, but her sister saying that the two girls had a striking, uncalming resemblance. As for me, I will not rule them out, but keep in mind our family has had to identify many other photographs and all but those three were ruled out. Many years went by without any arrests or developments

in the case. Then, in 2008, rumors spread that two teenage boys had accidentally hit Calico with a truck, panicked and subsequently killed her, covering up their misdeeds by disposing of her corpse somewhere it'd never be found. But this was dismissed as pure hearsay and the police officer who made the comments was publicly chastised by Tara's stepfather for them. Five more years went by and we could be forgiven for thinking that Tara's case would remain a cold one. But in 2013, the FBI announced that they had set up a six-person task force that was to be charged with reinvestigating Tara's abduction, citing the discovery of new evidence. Then in 2019, the FBI followed up their announcement

by offering a reward of up to $20,000 for precise details leading to the identification or location of Tara Lee Calico, and information leading to the arrest and conviction of those responsible for her disappearance. So it seems the FBI are creeping ever closer to finding the person responsible for Tara's death or abduction. And then, even if 30 years goes by, the powers that be will not simply allow people to go missing without doing something about it. But the question remains, was it really a freak car accident that killed Tara, one in which a terrified teen found he couldn't face the consequences? Or was Tara kidnapped by someone with much more nefarious intentions? Someone who wanted to show off his monstrous labors by displaying his quarry,

bound and gagged, his playthings until he saw fit to dispose of them. But at the end of the day, we're only left to wonder in horror at Terra's fate at the hands of her captor, left only to pray that the same thing doesn't happen to us, or any, of our loved ones. In the early hours of June 25th, 1986, a Volvo F-12 cargo truck carrying pure sulfuric acid raced through the Somo Sierra mountain pass near the Spanish capital of Madrid. It began overtaking other vehicles at alarming speeds, and in one case passed so close to a car that it smashed a side mirror clean off. It then appeared as if the Volvo was attempting to pass another truck, but instead, it swerved

at the last second, smashing the unsuspecting truck completely off the road. Suddenly, the Volvo veered into the path of oncoming traffic at speeds of up to 87 miles per hour, colliding with another truck with such force that both vehicles were violently overturned. The impact had been so destructive that it had ruptured the cargo hold of the Volvo F-12, sending a wave of pure sulfuric acid washing over the surrounding highway. As rescue workers poured sand and lime onto the acid to neutralize it, they were also greeted by the sight of a man and woman. Both were naked, bald, and sitting motionless in the cab of the first truck. Each had been completely bathed in the highly concentrated chemical substance in the moments

immediately following the crash, and the results were about as horrifying as you can imagine. Their clothes and hair had been the first things to be dissolved, and acid was well into the process of burning and dissolving their flesh. They had no doubt died in complete agony, and the damage to both their bodies and the interior of the truck made identifying them extremely difficult. They were eventually identified as Andreas Martinez and his wife Carmen Gomez, and authorities contacted Carmen's mother to inform her of Carmen's tragic demise. Her response was chilling. But what about the boy? Please tell me my grandson is okay.

The boy she was referring to was 10-year-old Juan Pedro, Andreas and Carmen's only child. He too had occasionally joined his mother and father on their shorter trucking journeys, but never one that long. An examination of the truck's cab revealed a number of children's cassette tapes along with several items of the child's clothing in the back. Some were heavily corroded, but it was clear which age group they were intended for, yet there was absolutely no trace of young Juan in the cab of the truck.

Once it had become clear that the body of a young boy was missing, residents of nearby villages and towns descended onto the crash site and began digging through the sand and lime in the hopes of uncovering Juan's body. They also searched the crags and crannies of the Somosierra Pass, but not a single trace of young Juan was to be found. While some believe that Juan was completely dissolved by the sulfuric acid, chemists maintain that there is no way that the acid could have dissolved his body that quickly, and that if it had, there'd at least be extensive skeletal remains left behind. However, expert chemists did suggest that it might have been possible for one of the past's rock formations to act as a kind of bathtub, collecting enough acid to form a pool that Juan's body just so happened to have been thrown into. It seemed like an unspeakably

ghastly twist of fate, but it was very possible, and if it was indeed the case, it would have taken no longer than 24 hours for all soft tissue to dissolve. It would take another five days for Juan's bones to be reduced to mere fragments, yet it would still be possible to recover nails, teeth, and certain items of clothing made of polypropylene. Detectives scoured the surrounding hills for any sign of such a bathtub rock formation, but nothing satisfying such criteria was discovered. And so the question remained, if Juan had been in the truck at the time of the crash, where was he now? Detectives began to study the truck's tachometer and found the device showed that the couple had made 12 short stops during the

ascension of the Somosierre Pass. Truckers that usually drive that route say that they usually make one stop at most, aside from mechanical problems, and couldn't think of a reason why a person might stop twice, let alone 12 times. It's also been established that there was no traffic jam that would explain the odd stops, and analysis of the truck showed that the brakes were not damaged, meaning each stop was entirely deliberate. And this is where the story gets deeply disturbing. Remember the trucker who was run off the road by the speeding Volvo?

He gave a statement to the police saying that, after he'd managed to gain control of his vehicle, he climbed out of the cab, only to be greeted by a man and a woman with bright blue eyes and golden blonde hair. The woman spoke Spanish well, but did so with a rather distinctive Germanic inflection, as she told the startled trucker not to worry, and that she and her colleague were medical professionals. The trucker allowed the couple to check his injuries, but found that they soon moved on to the acid-washed crash site, where he watched them retrieve some kind of package from the wreckage. After that, they climbed back into a small white windowless van and drove away.

It's now believed that this package was the body of young Juan Pedro Martinez. It's not clear if the boy was alive or dead when these strange Nordic-looking medical professionals pulled him from the truck's obliterated cab. It's also unclear just who exactly they were and how they seemed to know that there'd be a crash that day. Spanish police were unable to locate any such individuals, and Juan Pedro's disappearance remains a hauntingly perplexing mystery right up until today. Your tread's worn down or you need a new wheel. Wherever you go, you can get it from our tread experts. Toyo's open country family of tires will get you through tough weather in a variety of terrains. Until May 31st, save up to $100 in rebates on select Toyo tires. Find a Toyo tread experts dealer near you at treadexperts.ca slash locations.

From tires to auto repair, we're always there. Treadexperts.ca dot ca slash locations from tires to auto repair we're always there on the afternoon of monday january 13th 2014 43 43-year-old Chad Olson walked into a Tampa Bay area movie theater with his wife, Nicole. The couple had decided to spend a little quality time together, leaving their three-year-old daughter Lexi in the safe hands of a trusted babysitter while they went to see the 2013 war movie Lone Survivor. Those who've experienced being a young parent will tell you that private moments like the one they hope to share are far and few between, and we can only imagine how much they've been looking forward to it. However, as the Olsens nestled into their seats and the lights began to dim, another couple walked into the movie theater, that of 71-year-old retired police captain Curtis Reeves and his wife Vivian. Their police officer son Matt had actually read Marcus Luttrell's account of surviving swarms of Taliban in the hills of eastern Afghanistan, so when the movie of the

same name came out, he naturally recommended that they go see it. But what neither couple knew is that a relaxed afternoon movie visit was about to turn into a living nightmare, and that shows how an everyday disagreement has the capacity to turn deadly. As Curtis and his wife took a seat in the road just behind the Olsens, he began to hear a rather irritating clicking sound. In the silence of darkness of the movie theater, it didn't take him long to figure out that the sound was coming from in front of him. As he peered over the seats in front, there was Chad Olsen, illuminated by his own cell phone screen, hammering away at the keys to his phone without having bothered to put it on silent. Curtis was irritated, but even the previews had yet to commence, so he held his tongue.

It was only when the movie theater's screen came on and a message about switching off cell phones was played that Curtis actually tapped Chad on the shoulder and asked him to stop texting. According to court documents, Chad replied that he was just texting his three-year-old daughter and that he'd be done in a few seconds. But this wasn't good enough for Curtis, who then added something about how Chad should think of other people. According to Vivian Reeves, Chad then turned and spoke very aggressively towards her husband, insisting that he'd continue to text his daughter until he was finished. It scared me, she said later in court. I was horrified that somebody would act like that,

especially in a movie theater. By that point, Curtis was done trying to reason with the increasingly belligerent Chad. He turned to Vivian, whispered, I'm going to get a manager, then rose from his seat and left the theater, true to his word. When he returned, she handed him the popcorn and he sat down. According to witnesses, it's unclear who reignited the conflict upon Curtis' return, but what is clear is that Curtis informed Chad that he'd informed the theater's manager of his rude behavior and that he was due to be thrown out at any moment. You told on me? Chad reportedly barked. Who do you think you are? It's then that witnesses say that Chad reached with his tub of popcorn,

aggressively emptying it all over Curtis' head. It happened very quickly, Vivian Reeves later said. His whole upper body just came forward and I thought he was coming over to attack us, but in reality, although the move was an aggressive one, Chad had no intention of actually harming the older couple, he simply wanted to humiliate them. Regardless of intention, seconds after the popcorn went flying, the movie theater was lit up by a single bright flash. Curtis Reeves had pulled a.38 revolver from his hip and sent a bullet ripping through Chad's torso. Chad's wife had actually gotten a look at Curtisver from his hip, and sent a bullet ripping through Chad's torso.

Chad's wife had actually gotten a look at Curtis producing the handgun, and in the moment of pure horrified instinct, she lunged forward and tried to put her palm over the barrel of Curtis' weapon. She didn't move fast enough, and the bullet tore through her hand, shattering bone and shredding muscle, before plunging into her unsuspecting husband. The formerly silent theater was now filled with the screams of those trying desperately to escape, mistaking the situation for one of a far larger scope and scale. Realizing what he had done, Curtis sat back down in the seat, put his hands on his head, and tried to comprehend just how much one foolish act would change the lives of everyone in that theater. An off-duty police officer, who just so happened to be present at the time as the shooting

slowly approached Curtis, took the firearm out of his lap and rendered it safe. The same officer later testified that Vivian turned to her husband and said, what did you just do? You can't shoot into a theater full of people. Curtis simply cradled his head in his hands in a state of near catatonia, as if he couldn't believe what he'd just done. The terror was only compounded for responding police officers and emergency medical technicians. They knew very little of what had occurred at the scene, other than there had been a shooting in a movie theater. For some of them, this was highly reminiscent of the mass shooting committed by James Holmes in July of 2012, in which a heavily armed man let off tear gas in a Colorado movie theater before slaughtering the terrified movie

co-workers. Some people thought it was some kind of viral stunt, the purpose of which was to promote the movie. They sat smiling until Holmes opened fire and it was only when they saw the dead that they realized what was happening. We had no idea what we were headed into, said one officer following Reeves' arrest. We didn't know how many victims, how many shooters, what they were armed with. I was scared that it might be another Aurora, but thank God no one else was hurt. It's true that Chad Olsen was the only casualty of what could have been a much more violent event, but even so, the one death shattered a young family, and all who knew Chad were horrified and heartbroken that such a senseless death could even occur.

It's just going to be a huge hole in everyone's lives for him and his family, a friend of Chad's named Joe Trapani is reported to have said. He'd give you the shirt off his back if he needed to. He was just an all-around great guy. It was a couple of words, no threats, no harm, no nothing, Nicole Olsen later testified in court. In the blink of an eye, 30 seconds, it just shattered my world. Curtis Reeves' trial is set to begin this year, having been long delayed by the COVID-19 crisis,

and although he already entered a plea of not guilty, it seems highly unlikely that any jury in the land will find his actions to be anything other than abhorrently violent and thoughtless. Reeves tried to invoke Florida's notorious stand-your-ground laws back in his initial hearing in 2014. And although a man should indeed have the right to defend himself from legitimate threats, what threat did a bag of popcorn really pose? The terrifying thing about this particular murder isn't so much the violent outcome, it's how an everyday disagreement could somehow snowball into an actual murder. Not only that, but by all accounts, Curtis was an upstanding member of society,

having never once committed any kind of crime prior to that day. In addition to his impeccable service in the US Navy, Curtis has nine letters of appreciation and an excellent duty award in his Tampa PD file. He was also a member of the local Crime Stopper Board, a civilian crime prevention network based in his Hernando County home. Even neighbor of his, Bill Costas, spoke kindly of him when contacted by the media in the aftermath of the shooting. He was just a really nice guy, Bill says. Always smiling, and I've never seen him angry. Friendly type of guy, you know. If I ever needed help with anything, he was always willing to lend a hand. What people are saying about him, it just sounds like a totally different person. It just doesn't make sense to me, not from what I know of him. Curtis was certainly not a loose cannon, so why just snap

all of a sudden? What makes a man like that suddenly lose all rationality and react to mild belligerence with a deadly response? We can try to rationalize such a violent event, explain it away using natural or supernatural means, but the truth is, you never really know who's out there, who you're going to bump into or rub up the wrong way. Some people won't be so forgiving over seemingly minor offenses, and just the slightest pushback could give them all the reason they need to widow your spouses or orphan your children. The End During my early 20s, I used to be heavily involved in the LA goth scene in the late 80s. I met some of the most amazing people ever, and I've stayed friends with some of them right up until today.

But I'd think they'd be the first to agree with me that the goth scene back then was a bunch of kids trying to be something they weren't. And in our case, that thing was vampires. We were into the whole vamp thing heavy. Like we heard about the faux vampire enclaves in New York that were involved in bloodletting and blood drinking and all this other hardcore stuff. And I guess we just wanted to emulate that. The darker our meets and parties got, the weirder the people we attracted. And although I called BS on one of our number claiming that Richard Ramirez, that's the night stalker serial killer, approached them about attending one of our parties,

we still got some pretty sketchy people hanging around. Sure we talked a good game about blood lust and death and slaughtering the cattle as we phrased it, but we were just bored, slightly depressed kids. There wasn't any malice in what we were doing, and no one ever got cut or drank from unless they 100% consented. That being said, there were definitely one or two people that passed through our little social circle that most definitely didn't have the best intentions. And being the dumb, attention-craving teenager I was, I ended up pretty much falling into bed with one of them. There was only like one other gay guy who used to hang out with us, but I really wasn't into him at all.

So when Zeno showed up, I just about lost my mind. Zeno was from Hungary, and I guess he got sick of trying to teach Americans how to pronounce his actual birth name, Joat, that he just went by his teenage nickname of Zeno. I was already swooning when he showed up. Six foot tall goth guy from Europe with jet black hair and dark eyes. But then when I found out that he was bi, oh my god I just about did a somersault. So yeah I get talking to him one night offering up my wrist for him to do a little bloodletting and we hit it off. Super cringy thinking about it now, but what else is youth for other than to get all your dumb mistakes out? Anyway, we basically start dating and I'm just on top

of the world telling all my gay friends about this bi guy from Hungary. It was just the best. He's just so moody and dark, constantly wearing black even though the Cali heat must have been killing him. He once told a friend of mine, my blood is cold in his sexy accent. Again, super cringe, but screw it. I was hopelessly in love. Only one of my friends, just one, seemed to have the presence of mind to warn me about him, saying something like, yeah, I've been getting really bad vibes off of Zeno like all night. I think this guy's bad news. That's exactly what I liked about him though. He was bad, but I thought he was like just at the upper echelon of the same way we were. But to my horror, Zeno turned out to be an actual psycho who I never should have dated in the first

place. Again, uber cringe alert so I'll keep it brief. Zeno was super dumb and I was super subby, if you know, you know. And a big part of his power trips was to ask me like, would you do anything for me? How far would you go? What are you willing to give me? And every time I'd be like, yes, anything, as much as you need. This idea just snowballed and snowballed until one night he asked me out on what he called a very special kind of date. I pressed him on what he meant by that, but all he'd

given me was, this is LA after all, why don't we go to the movies? I knew he wasn't about to just take me to see Terminator 2 or whatever, I knew there had to be some kind of twist in there, and that there was a lot more to this little date idea of his than just catching a flick. So I bit my tongue and just waited for the Friday night in question to see what he had in store for me. The time comes, he comes to pick me up in his hearse. Yes, you read that right, Guy bought an old funeral car for his ride, and we head downtown. Again, I ask him where we were headed, but he just smiles and tells me, you'll see. After about 10 minutes or so, we pull up outside an old adult movie theater, so naturally I'm getting excited,

but when I ask him if we're having a little adult entertainment date, he shakes his head and gives me this wry smile. So by this point, my curiosity has peaked. I have no idea how weird this date is about to get, but I sure was about to find out. I get out of the car and realize that the place looked closed. Like normally you'd have a marquee, flashing lights, at least something advertising what movies were being shown. But this place had nothing. Not even any lights on and like I said, it looked like it hadn't been open for years. There wasn't even anyone manning the ticket booth. We had to like bang on the front doors until someone showed up to let us in. At the time I just guessed that Zeno had prepaid or something because he and whoever was playing at being the stewards seemed to know each other and no money exchanged hands. He just leads us

into one of the theater rooms that was almost pitch black with only a handful of other people sat around waiting for whatever movie was about to be shown. I'm practically vibrating with excitement by the time it comes for us to take our seats, and as we do, he leans over to me, takes my hand in his and says like, You get scared. Squeeze my hand. It's okay if you get scared, but we stay, not leaving, okay? Now he was dark, but had a heart of gold.

He could show me his sensitive side from time to time and good lord, now that he'd shown me that, I was never leaving his side. Or so I thought. Because I figured we'd just gone to see some messed up Euro trash horror film that had been banned in the US or whatever. Something gross but harmless where I'd end up cuddled up next to him, scared but not too scared, if that makes any sense. What little light there was in the theater dimmed and the scream came to life, but instead of having a title sequence or anything like that, a man in a black mask walked in front,

lit up by the projector and began to speak. I can't remember exactly what the guy said, it was like 30 years ago now, and what I saw next kind of overshadows everything that came prior. But he basically said something like this in some overly dramatic mid-Atlantic accent. Ladies and gentlemen, what you are about to witness is no mere fiction, and it's not for the faint of heart. This is true cinema verite. The naked truth of our lives laid bare, and to view it is almost as sacred as an act as to partake in its creation. So, without further ado, allow me to present L'Amour d'Eve. Now please don't hold me to the film's title. That's literally just what it sounded like to me with my two years of high school French.

Moments later, the guy stepped away from the screen and the movie began. Again, there were no title sequences. The movie just started. And I know this is dumb, but I thought the big guy's speech at the start was supposed to be like, build up hype or whatever. I didn't think he was serious. So when a picture comes on the screen of a semi-naked girl tied to a metal surgical table, I immediately start thinking,

oh no, oh please no, this can't be what I think it is. The girl doesn't seem to be struggling or anything. She's just lying there all limp in front of some boxes with that crazy Russian-style writing on them. I knew something bad was about to happen, but whether or not it was all just an elaborate facade, it was just too soon to say. I know I know I should have just gotten up and left right then. But well, the things we do for love, huh? I give Zeno's hand a squeeze and a man comes into view. At least, I'm 99% sure it was a guy, because they were all covered up in those loose-fitting surgical scrubs. He walks into frame with what look like two electrodes, place them on the girl's chest, then like nods to someone out of frame. The girl's body spasms all of a sudden,

then she starts freaking out and struggling, where she's clearly been shocked into consciousness, only to be confused and terrified by her surroundings. That's when the man in the surgical mask begins to speak, and although I honestly couldn't tell if it was actual Russian or not, as I know a bunch of different countries use that kind of writing, he definitely sounded like he was in Eastern Europe somewhere. And as much as I obviously didn't know what he was saying, it definitely sounded like he was taunting or berating the girl who was tied to

the table. The guy in the surgical mask then makes a show of tightening the restraints, with one kind of pulling her hips down so she couldn't move. I'm thinking, they have to give her anesthetic, right? If this is some kind of horrid surgical footage, they're sure to knock her out before they cut her open, right? Wrong. I was squeezing Zeno's hand as hard as I could as the guy on screen picked up a scalpel and began to cut into the girl's stomach. I tried my best to watch, I actually did, but as soon as I began to see all kinds of shimmering organ meat underneath the surface, I found myself forced to turn away. I thought Xena would understand. I obviously just wasn't on his level when it came

to actual gore. Cutting was one thing, but seeing that girl's guts on display made me want to puke. I thought he might see that he tried to push me too far, too soon, but seeing that girl's guts on display made me want to puke. I thought he might see that he tried to push me too far, too soon, but he didn't. I felt him push me away and softly growl something like, keep watching, don't look away. I tried to keep as quiet as I could and not make a scene, but I begged him, telling him it was too much for me. He then told me that if I didn't watch, if I didn't at least try, he'd leave me here and never, ever call me again. This went on for a few minutes and while my eyes are glued shut, things are still occurring on screen, only I can't see them obviously.

Zeno's little ultimatum hurt but I couldn't just let him go like that He was like my dream guy and I swear I'd have done anything for him Turns out though, there was a line and he'd crossed it But still, I tried Yet when I opened my eyes, it was so, so much worse than it had been before The girl was such a mess that I actually gasped when I saw. And how a person can still be alive, writhing around and groaning when most of their intestines have been unraveled on their stomach. Jesus Christ, that image still sticks with me even thirty years later.

I just couldn't handle it anymore. I couldn't even believe I was doing it at the time but I shoved his hand away from me, got up out of my seat and just walked out of the theater. When I got back to my apartment finally, I cried for like half an hour straight, just ugly sobbing before I got it together enough to call one of my friends and tell them what happened. We didn't go to the cops or anything, I mean, maybe we should've, but I just prioritized on getting Zeno out of my life as fast as possible. I slowed down on the whole vamp thing after that. Zeno continually hung around that circle so I just couldn't drag myself to meets and stuff. Seeing him flirting with girls or

whatever just really tore me up inside. I'm kind of non-confrontational too. So maybe these days people would have singled him out as toxic or whatever but back then, trying to speak out against the coolest guy anyone knew just seemed kind of pointless. I think the moral here is to have more respect for yourself than I did. Dom's sub-dynamics are fun, sure, but I let that mentality get me into a situation that honestly could have turned out way worse. If you ask me, someone that's into snuff, that's into like watching people die, that's gotta be only a few steps away from actually committing violence themselves, right?

So who knows, maybe if I'd met Zeno further down the spiral, I might not even be here to tell you this story, because I made a real mistake getting stuck on that guy, and I literally have the scars to prove it. We'll be right back. or you need a new wheel, wherever you go, you can get it from our tread experts. Toyo's open country family of tires will get you through tough weather in a variety of terrains. Until May 31st, save up to $100 in rebates on select Toyo tires. Find a Toyo tread experts dealer near you at treadexperts.ca slash locations. From tires to auto repair, we're always there. Tradix.ca Back when I was a student, I worked in this tiny cinema in London's Soho district.

There used to be loads of little picture houses that showed raunchy films back in the day, and I'd rather die than end up working in one of those. But back around 1990, some well-to-do musician type bought up one of the little cinemas and converted it into like a cult film cinema. I'd show all kinds of weird foreign films and documentaries, video nasty horror films from the previous decade, and it'd even host secret showings of banned films like that Italian Cannibal Holocaust film. But one of the things the little cinema was most famous for was showing these hardcore, ultra-violent Japanese anime films.

These were a huge hit with locals and students alike, and some of the weeknight showings of things like Violence Jack or Angel Cop used to fill up more than the weekend showings of more mainstream films. These are kind of like the OVAs, that's manga jargon for original video animation, that have been straight up banned in certain countries because of how violent and obscene they were. Well, for their time anyway. The point is, they weren't easy to get their hands on, especially with English dubbing or English subtitles. So when we announced the showing of something particularly gruesome, you could bet we'd get bums on seats for weeks on end. It tended to be a lot of the same people coming each week too.

Regular little cliques of anime addicts or gore hounds who shrieked and whooped whenever there was a particularly nasty kill. Most of them looked the part too. Leather trench coats, tattoos, lots of heavy metal band t-shirts. But then, one or two didn't look like the kind of people to be watching cult Japanese animation whatsoever. I suppose you can't always judge a book by its cover, but one particular guy looked so out of place that it was downright creepy. Me and the other guy who used to work the afternoon shifts used to just call him the man in the hat, because as well as being immaculately dressed in this navy blue suit and tie, he wore this old-fashioned wide-brimmed hat, the kind you'd see back in the 40s or 50s.

First time he walked up to the booth before a showing and said, one please, in his posh accent. I was sure he was lost. I actually asked him like, one for mad bull 34? And he just nods. So not being one to deny the bloke a new experience, I took his money, gave him a ticket and unlocked the little turnstile for him to push his way through. Then, while everyone else is basically turning the place into a madhouse, showering each other in lager and cackling whenever anything gory happened, the man in the hat would just sit there, silently and happily watching the film. It didn't seem like a wrongin', just a bit weird is all. But then something happened during a showing of one particularly violent film that seemed to, well, push him over the edge, shall we

say. So there's a part in this one film where these two fellas are having a scrap and one suddenly gets the upper hand and he rips his opponent's heart right out of his chest. Admittedly, it makes for some bloody amazing viewing, as it's not like a hi-yah, one and done thing. No, no. The bloke like hulks out, makes a kind of karate chop hand and then plunges it into his opponent's chest. Then while he's actually got his hand wrapped around the enemy guy's heart, he starts giving him this big speech about how he never stood a chance, how he's got his very life force in his grip. Then, with literal showers of blood occurring, the guy crushed his opponent's heart, rips it out of his chest, and what follows is like a lawn sprinkler of blood just going absolutely everywhere. Not the kind of thing you'd watch with your granny on a Sunday afternoon,

but it definitely made the time pass quicker at work when you're sitting in the projection booth like, what in god's name am I even watching? This is insane. Well, smoking a little bit of a J. Anyway, like I said, big long speech by the fella before he crushes the guy's heart, etc. The man in the hat had seen this particular film before. In fact, he was getting a reputation for showing up every time we showed it, without fail, and we were all about to find out why. Right before the guy's heart gets ripped out, someone a few seats down from the man in the hat jumps out of the seat and starts shouting something at him. Bearing in mind the actual theater wasn't very big at all, maybe only holding about 40 or 50 people at the time. So from up in the projection booth, I can kind of see what's going on with my bird's eye view.

Someone is really objecting to something that the man in the hat is doing, so much so that they're jumping up out of their seat, pointing, shouting, then kind of shooing him out of the row. Someone else seems to notice, and at one point, I think this person is going to actually attack the man in the hat, who had to rush out of the theater to avoid the increasingly angry crowd. I find this whole thing a bit distressing as he'd always been alright with me but I didn't know what he'd actually been up to until the end of the showing. On their way out I asked one of the customers what the man in the hat had been doing. Disgusting. They were all saying bloody non nonce was sitting there wanking, wasn't he? Don't worry, mate.

We've dealt with him for you. Another said. But don't let that beast back in, yeah? He was looking on blurting all over your lovely red carpets. Disgusting. You know what? As horrible as it was, I was gutted. I mean, I had seen him moving a bit

funny at times during the showings, but I didn't think he was touching himself or anything. God forbid, well-dressed gent like that. And thinking he was getting off on all the violence too. Like maybe he used to pop down to Soho to visit a peep show or two and he found himself something else to get off on. Something much, much darker. Anyways, years later I'm in a pub over in the west end seeing an old mate of mine who used to work at the cinema too. I'm not working at the cinema anymore, I have an actual grown up job chasing down benefit fraudsters for the DWP but I'd be lying if I said I didn't miss the cinema a fair bit. Anyway, we're doing a spot of reminiscing, and all of a sudden, he near slams his pint down and says, did you hear about the Prozzie who was murdered by the old gore mine? What we used to

call the cinema with it being in a basement unit. I tell him no, and he reminds me of the man in the hat. It had literally been years since I thought about him, and I gave a quick grimace as I did, but what did that have to do with some poor woman of the night being murdered? Mate, someone picked her up, then dumped her on the street behind the old cinema, right? My old colleague said. And get this, they only went on to cut her heart out, didn't they? Grim, but I still didn't quite see the significance.

Remember, what was the man in the hat beating his meat to when he got thrown out? What exact scene? The bloke ripping the heart out. My jaw's dropping as I'm saying this, and I started suddenly seeing the connection too. You don't think? That's exactly what I think. Full disclosure, yeah?

I reckon my old mate is as mad as a box of frogs. Always has been, always will. But he wasn't wrong about the man in the hat. And unless someone else in Soho has a fancy for the old Aztec heart-ectomy, it had to be our man. It was a bit surreal, honestly. I went from calling him a plant pot to seriously contemplating it. And then within about 45 minutes or so, we were walking down the Savile Row police station to file a report. The copper made it clear that we smelled like a brewery, and if we made any false statements he'd personally make sure we were in charge for it. We told him, right hand to God,

this is the God honest truth, and then we told him all about the man in the hat, and that particular scene in Violence Jack or whatever it was. He soon changed his tune. About an hour after, we were soon talking to two blokes from the CID who wanted to know every little detail about the man in the hat. That's how we knew we were onto something. If there were no callbacks, no return interest from the coppers, then yeah, red herring. But the fact it got passed up the chain and then these two suited, booted types jump up on the case, There were no callbacks, no return interest from the coppers, and yeah, red herring. But the fact it got passed up the chain and then these two suited, booted types jump up on the case,

something's going on there, don't you think? Far as I know, he was never nicked for it and the murder actually went unsolved. Bit scary that, isn't it? Thinking he might still be out there or what have you. So when you're next in the pictures and you see some fella wearing an old style hat send a couple of rows back from him, will you? Cause it's likely that's not popcorn butter that's spilling on you if you know what I mean. Sveta, Sveta, Sveta, Sveta, Sveta, Sveta, Sveta, Sveta, Sveta, Sveta, Sveta, Sveta, Sveta, Sveta, Sveta, Sveta, Sveta, Sveta, Sveta, Sveta, Sveta, Sveta, Sveta, Sveta, Sveta, Sveta, Sveta, Sveta, Sveta, Sveta, Sveta, Sveta, Sveta, Sveta, Sveta, Sveta, Sveta, Sveta, Sveta, Sveta, Sveta, Sveta, Sveta, Sveta, Sveta, Sveta, Sveta, Sveta, Sveta, Sveta, Sveta, Sveta, Sveta, Sveta, Sveta, Sveta, Sveta, Sveta, Sveta, Sveta, Sveta, Sveta, Sveta, Sveta, Sveta, Sveta, Sveta, Sveta, Sveta, Sveta, Sveta, Sveta, Sveta, Sveta, Sveta, Sveta, Sveta, Sveta, Sveta, Sveta, Sveta, Sveta, Sveta, Sveta, Sveta, Sveta, Sveta, Sveta, Sveta, Sveta, Sveta, Sveta, Sveta, Sveta, Sveta, Sveta, Sveta, Sveta, Sveta, Sveta, Sveta, Sveta, Sveta, Sveta, Sveta, Sveta, Sveta, Sveta, Sveta, Sveta, Sveta, So it was only about a week after that Joker movie came out that I got a chance to see it.

I'd been a huge fan of the Nolan Batman series, like I loved how dark they made it, so the idea of having a dedicated Joker movie where everyone was saying how controversial it was, I was so psyched to see it. I can't find anyone to come see it with me, but I didn't care. I just rocked up to an afternoon showing on my lonesome, just tunnel vision like, Joker movie, gotta see it. I got popcorn, a soda, hot dog, the works, just like when I used to go see movies with my dad when I was a kid. Then as I'm sat there in the dark, I start thinking to myself, you know, I always thought someone might pull some psycho nonsense at one of these showings. But it's weird because I hadn't heard anything about psychos in clown makeup shooting up any theaters.

That's cool, I guess, but it would really, really suck if I just so happen to have picked the one showing of Joker that ends up getting shot up by some neckbeard incel, I thought to myself. But as I'm thinking this, the movie starts, latecomers file into the theater, everything is chill, and not a single person I can see is cosplaying or looks like they're about to erupt into violence. So cool, I just carry on watching the movie. Then like 20 minutes in, there's only like 10 or 20 other people in the theater and I hear someone laughing from the back of it. It's just kind of a subdued giggle at first, like the person is trying to contain themselves, but then it gets louder and

louder, and it's obvious this person is just trying to get a rise out of everyone on purpose. People start turning around to see some absolute douche nugget dressed head to toe in Joker style colorful pants and jacket. He's obviously walked into the theater in the last minute or so, because he definitely wasn't there at the start and as he's doing this terrible impression of Arthur Fleck and doing a little dance, people start telling him to shut up, me included. Right then, the guy pulls out a freaking revolver from the back of his pants and people literally start screaming and getting down on the ground, again, me included. I'm crouched down, making a move for the end of the aisle closest to the

emergency exit. Don't get me wrong, I'm scared out of my wits, but at the same time I'm thinking, I knew it, I knew it, of all the times dude, of all the times, it had to happen to me. I can still hear the guy laughing, I can still hear people begging him not to shoot as I sprint towards the emergency exit. Then, just as I'm about to open up, I look back to see the guy aim the gun at this terrified couple and pull the trigger. But instead of a flash, a bang, and one of the couple dropping to the ground, this absolute monster literally had one of those stupid toy guns that shoots out a little flag that says bang on it. It was made of plastic, but in the low light of the movie theater, and with all the terror that the Aurora Dark Knight thing caused, people were so ready to

believe that it was real. Whenever one realized what had happened, the guy burst out laughing again. Only this sounded like actual laughter, not the stupid Joker impression. Then just about everyone in the theater chased the guy out into the parking lot and into a waiting car. I swear to God, they were about ready to lynch this guy. I mean, I was ready to kick his head in too, but I swear the couple he pretended to shoot were just about ready to murder him right there in the parking lot. So not only did this piece of human garbage think it was funny to mimic the mass shooting, he also ruined my first time seeing Joker.

So if anyone had a right to murder him, I think it should have been me. Also, I ended up checking social media and whatnot the next day, just in case the guy was trying to make some viral prank video or whatever, but there was nothing. Nothing even in the news about it, which is messed up because he thinks CNN wouldn't pass up the chance to report on some incel violence or whatever. Definitely the scariest thing to ever happen to me, let alone in an actual movie theater in New York City in the early 80s. Sometimes when the movie ended and the lights came up, me and the cleaning staff would walk into what I can only describe as a post-apocalyptic scene. Every kind of bodily fluid or secretion you can imagine, I've cleaned it up. We had people who we thought might be dead.

People who were screwing around and didn't stop when the movie ended. Every deadly sin there is, we walked in on it. But by far the worst part of the job was trying to keep order in the theater itself. We're constantly calling the cops on people who were fighting, doing drugs, just about any scumbag activity you can imagine, people did it in our theater. They tended not to screw with my co-workers and me so much as they knew that they'd have red and blue flashing lights outside, but it was still one heck of a job. Only once did someone actually put me in any danger, but my god was it enough to last a

lifetime. I'd had people scream and shout at me, but at 6'3 most people knew better than to get physical. But this one guy, he didn't even have to get all that violent, he didn't have to shout or scream, and he had me just about soiling my pants. So it all started when I was working the late shift, 5.30pm to midnight or close, and for some reason I could just tell it was going to be a rowdy one. It was a Friday night, it was coming up on Halloween, and people were so jacked up that I swear it was a full moon or something too. Needless to say, I braced myself for one heck of a shift, but honestly, if I'd have known how messed up that night was going to be, I think I'd have just locked myself in the ticket office and stayed put until closing, in which I'd probably just end up pulling the fire alarm again. Yes, I had to do that more than once, and the fire department told me I'd be fined if I did it again. Yes, I had to do that more than once and the fire department told me I'd be fined if I did it again. Anyway, I sell out a theater, make a show of checking some stubs

and sit back in the ticket booth to avoid the crazies. Then out of nowhere, someone walked up to the register and says, hey, I think someone is sick in there. I asked if they puked and they said no, that I think they're on drugs or something. I'm serious, I think you should call 911. I didn't want to call the EMTs and then find out that someone had just fallen asleep or whatever. So I decided to just go check it out first and if it was serious, I'd call 911.

I follow the girl into the dark theater and she points out who she's talking about. At the very end of one row, there was this punk rock looking couple, crazy hair and leather jackets. The guy had his arm around the girl and she's leaning on his shoulder. It didn't look too rough at first glance, just an unconventional couple enjoying a show of that freaky neutron movie, as I like to call it. People sometimes ask how I remember which exact movies was showing and I always respond with something like, when you feel like your entire world is about to end, you pick up on all the little details for some reason. So, back when I used to work the theater, I used to carry this weak little keychain flashlight that proved its worth on more than one occasion.

I shine the light on the ground near the couple and lo and behold, there's a bunch of puke at the girl's feet. Then I quickly shine the light on her and yep, she's in a bad, bad way. She obviously is not fully conscious and she seems to be trembling while leaning on her guy and I'm pretty sure she's either ODing or she's really sick with something. Either way, I'm calling 911. I just want to know why the punk guy doesn't seem to care that she's in such a state. So putting on my most polite yes sir, no sir service voice, I lean in and ask the guy if he or his lady friend require any medical assistance. At first the guy just gives me the finger and tells me to get lost. Normally I'd just back off, no crummy job was worth getting punched in the face over. But this one solitary occasion I just couldn't walk away. You see,

this dude was much older than the girl, maybe in his late 30s, early 40s, and she looked like she was no older than a high school junior. It just seemed like predatory, you know? Plus, she legit looked like she was ODing. This is going to sound harsh, but I don't really care if some hardcore junkie scumbag dies, but some younger person, some girl, who could have easily gotten a second chance in life? Nah, it wasn't going to happen on my time. But as they say, no good deed goes unpunished. I ended up making the nearly deadly mistake of reaching out and tapping this dude on the shoulder. I didn't tap him hard, it wasn't aggressive, nothing like that.

It was just to let him know, I'm not messing around here. The girl needs medical attention and I'm gonna call 911 so stash whatever you got on you because this girl's life is more important than your high, you know what I mean? But no sooner had I touched this guy, no sooner had I laid a finger on him, it grabs my wrist. I mean the speed on this guy, I mean heroin's supposed to make you slow or whatever, but that was nonsense. This guy's hit must have been working on him because he was like a freaking mousetrap. I touch him and whap, my fingers are wrapped around my wrist and he's turning in his seat to face me. Now I see him reaching into his pocket and my immediate reaction is to pull away because I think, Jesus, this guy's about to shank me. But he doesn't pull out a knife, he pulls out something else entirely. Still sharp, mind you, but what he did with it had me frozen to the spot.

The theater is dark, right, but the movie screen is bright enough to light up like half of me in the sky, just enough so I can see what he's just put to my wrist. A syringe. He's not pricking me with it, he's just holding it there and let me tell you, that was like a gun to my head. People reading this in 2019 might think that a needle is real bad and obviously, yeah it is. But this is 1982 alright? AIDS had literally just come out of nowhere. This country was scared. Not like COVID scared, buying all the toilet paper and stuff. I mean, people wouldn't use bathrooms after each other. Everyone's love life just disappeared overnight. I mean, this didn't go on forever, and people found out how to prevent the spread, but you didn't need no

comorbidities for HIV to mess you up. And for a while, people just didn't know how it spread or with who. These days, they got all kinds of drugs that can manage HIV and AIDS or whatever. I mean, Magic Johnson is still going strong. I'd never have bet money on that back in the day, let me tell you. But back then, AIDS was like a death sentence, man. And not only did that guy threaten to poke me with a needle, what he said had me just about wetting my pants. Listen to me, he says. I got the bug. She got the bug too. Unless you want the bug as well, I'd get away from us right now. I didn't say a word as he let go of me. I just turned around and walked out of the theater.

Yeah, I called 911 like right away. Cops and EMTs. All the while I locked myself in the ticket booth and told my coworkers to stay clear of the cops when they arrived. The cops turned up with rubber gloves on. Like surgical gloves and just walked the guy out of the movie theater at gunpoint. I don't think they even touched the guy until he was at the car and they put the cuffs on him. That was a scary time to be alive, man, let me tell ya. And that was a scary time for me, too, obviously.

But the people I feel really sorry for are the people who have to live with that godforsaken disease before science worked out how to fight it or whatever. That ain't no way to live and it sure does make me feel lucky that I have my health. The scariest thing that ever happened to me was when I went to the movies with my boyfriend years ago. He's my ex now, but you get the idea if I just call him my boyfriend for the sake of the story. So we go see the Hateful Eight movie, the Tarantino cowboy one that's not Django. Right as the film starts, I need to take a whiz, so I run to the toilet, run back and sit back down next to him. My eyes are like glued to the screen cause I've already missed the first minutes or so so when I feel my boyfriend's arm come around the seat I just snuggle into it and keep watching. A few minutes go by and I lean my head on his shoulder. He gives the top of it a little kiss

and we carry on watching. Another few minutes go by and a guy two rows in front starts acting all weird like he's looking for someone. He's looking left, looking right, then he turns around to look behind him. And it's my boyfriend. I instantly recoil from whoever I was cuddling with and it's just some guy who had a similar hairstyle and beard, a totally different guy. My gut reaction is to be like, oh my god I'm so sorry I thought you were my boyfriend. But at the same time this voice in my head is saying, oh my god that perv had his arm around you and he knew you weren't his girlfriend. So I'm being polite and stuff but at the same time I'm beyond annoyed. The guy just started smiling and saying sit back down and all this and by that point I'm struggling not to call him a creep and just slap him one but I'm gonna go sit

back with my boyfriend and tell him what happened. At first he's just laughing like it's the funniest thing ever and people in the theater are just looking over, telling us to shush and all that, even though we're trying to be dead quiet. But when I whisper in his ear what the guy had done, my ex was fuming. And what makes it worse is that the other guy was there with his friends and started carrying on with his, oh come back here love, come have a little cuddle and all this. My ex tells him to shut it. Someone else threatens to tell the manager and have us thrown out. So everyone goes quiet for a bit. In the end, we thought it was just best to leave before they could try and start a fight with us at the end or whatever. So before the film ended, we got up and walked out, just glad to avoid any conflict really.

My boyfriend was raging, but I knew that it just wasn't worth our time. But then as we're in the parking lot of the movie theaters, I turn around and as I'm getting in the car, guess who's walking across the parking lot towards us? Same three guys that I sat next to by accident and they're headed straight for us. My ex wanted to scrap with them at first but I told him they'll probably end up just kicking both our heads in and then they'll just smash the car up. So get in the car and let's just leave. We did exactly that and thank god my ex saw sense in that moment, but even as we drove out of the parking lot, they started actually following us. And the way it was set up was that we had to like come back on ourselves to get out, so we basically had to drive right past them to leave. I swear my ex went around one turn doing 45 just to put some distance between us, and they'd have definitely probably knocked a window out or something if they caught up with us. I gotta admit, it was incredibly scary towards the end,

and I really have to admit that I did think that they were going to do us some damage, perhaps even just to the car. But honestly, it never ceases to amaze me how scummy some guys can be and just think they can get away with it. Believe it or not, the scariest moment of my life occurred because of my best friend. Before I get to that story, let me give you some context. I became fast friends with a girl named Abigail when we were both freshmen in high school. We were inseparable. For all four years of high school, we did absolutely everything together. Every weekend she was at my house or I was at hers.

During the summer, we would alternate between our houses, never going more than a day without seeing each other. Our parents eventually gave up trying to get us to do anything apart and even let us tag along on each other's family vacations. Over the course of our friendship, I learned that Abigail had a major flaw. She was insanely, competitively jealous. This wasn't your run-of-the-mill jealousy. She would get crazy jealous if I got a cute boyfriend.

The key word there is cute. If I dated a guy she didn't think was attractive, she wouldn't get jealous at all. Her jealousy would manifest in getting angry at me for spending any time without her. As we got older, her jealousy made her extremely competitive with me over guys. If I met a cute boy, she would swoop in and try to steal his attention. Abby, as I called her, was gorgeous. She had jet black, naturally curly hair that fell down her back in perfect ringlets, and the biggest blue eyes I'd ever seen.

She also had curves and a gorgeous smile. I, on the other hand, was insecure inside and out. I was by no means shy, but I never considered myself to be as attractive as Abby. I was kind of chunky and dressed modestly because I hated the way men stared at my chest. For me it was no competition. Abby was the prettiest. When guys would hit on her I just thought that makes sense because she is gorgeous and is good at flirting. I didn't have enough confidence to flirt. I had a huge personality that I hid behind and thought all of my guy friends were just that, friends. Because of this, I naively allowed Abby to bat her lashes and swoop in on guys I was into. Looking back, it's obvious that these guys gave Abby attention because they knew she would put out, but I digress.

But onto the story here. It was the end of our senior year in 2007. Abby and I had been the youngest employees at a fancy restaurant for the previous three years, so several of our co-workers were slightly older than us surprised us with a hotel party the night of graduation. By the time midnight rolled around, there were at least 50 people in our hotel suite. A little before midnight, a group of four guys joined the party who were friends of friends. Being young and naive, I remember thinking, the more the merrier, instead of, who are these people? As soon as these guys entered and started mingling,

I noticed how cute one of them was. I didn't say anything to Abigail since I knew how she was. I had let her pick who she thought was the cutest and avoid her competing with me for attention the rest of the night. Maybe a half hour after the guys arrived, I was standing near the balcony doing shots with a few others when one of my favorite songs started playing. Being the hippie I am I started dancing by myself. Suddenly someone took my hand and began twirling me around. I soon realized it was the guy from the group that I thought was cute and he could dance. We twirled around until the song was over and then he introduced himself. I'm Dylan. You got some moves, girl. Thanks. I'm B. B was, and what everyone calls me.

How did you hear about our party? Jay. He responded. Jay was one of our co-workers at the restaurant who was throwing us this party, so I stupidly assumed that if Jay had invited Dylan, he must have been an alright guy, an assumption I would soon regret. Dylan and I stood around talking for about 10 minutes when Abby approached us.

If you want to dance with someone who could show you a thing or two, save the next one for me, Abby said to Dylan, practically knocking me out of the way. Is that a challenge? It's a guarantee, mister, Abby said as she ran her finger down his chest and abdomen. I had had enough. Abby always got what she wanted, so I knew I didn't stand a chance. I turned to leave the two of them to it, but someone grabbed my hand and stopped me. Where are you going? It was Dylan. Uh. I looked from Dylan to Abby, who was glaring daggers at me. For a refill, I spluttered. I could use one too. Dylan beamed at me. What about my dance? Abby whined. I'm not really in

the mood for a dance lesson, Missy. He had told her, adding a snarl on the last word. He was still holding my hand so he guided me toward the bar on the other side of the room. As we were getting our drinks, I glanced over to where we had been standing, and Abby was still standing in the same spot with her mouth open. As soon as she noticed me, she gave me a look that sent shivers down my spine. I remember thinking, great, now I've done it. She's probably going to be terrible to me for the rest of the night. As a show of peace, I made Abby her favorite shot and brought it to her. She took it from me,

downed it, and walked away without saying a word. Whatever, I thought. I tried. A little while later, several people, including Dylan and the guys he was with, were trying to convince everyone to go to a club that had just opened up about a mile from the hotel. At this point, I was well on my way to getting drunk for only the second time in my life. I was happy keeping the hotel party going and to my surprise, so was Abby and about a dozen other people. Our party split, with the majority of the attendees going to the club and the rest staying at the hotel. At that point, it was about one in the morning. Abby started being nice to me again so I celebrated by doing more shots. We continued drinking for the next couple of hours.

Everyone was pretty hammered but we were all getting along, dancing, smoking and just having a general good time. Around 3am some of the party goers who had gone to the club returned to our hotel room to finish out the night. This included Dylan. Over about 20 minutes, our party regrew from about a dozen to somewhere around 30 people. To be completely honest, I don't remember a ton from about 1.30 to 3.30. As I mentioned before, I was drunk for only the second time and I was trashed. This is the first time I had ever truly let myself loose. What gets fuzzy in my memory, other more sober attendees filled in the gaps for me.

However, this next part I can remember in vivid detail. Around 3.30 I was going to the bathroom, alone because I'm not one of those females. All I remember is washing my hands and suddenly, there was someone behind me, grinding hard up against me. In my drunken state, I was confused at first because I thought I had locked the door and wondered how one of my friends got in. I finally clued in that it wasn't one of my drunk friends messing with me. It was a guy. In fact, it was Dylan. Finally, I've been dying to get you alone all night, Dylan slurred, clearly way more drunk than before the club. What are you doing? I'm cut off by Dylan spinning me around and sticking his tongue down my throat. I shoved

him away to get free of his grasp and he just clung to me harder. I tried to yell but he swiftly covered my mouth and got both of us to the floor before I knew what was happening. I bit his hand as hard as I could. When he recoiled, I used my legs to kick him off of me. But I couldn't get out because my kick landed him up against the door and this enraged him. Dylan balled up his fists and this predatory grin spread across his face as he said, I always love a fighter. The next thing I knew we both crashed into the bathtub and my eyes hurt really bad but I keep thinking, just kick, bite, claw and punch anything you come in contact with. I do just that and somehow become free of him in the tub. Just as I'm about to grab the door handle and make my escape,

he grabs me from behind and I scream for the first time. I don't know how or why it took me so long to find my voice, but I did get out a loud scream before he had covered my mouth again. Suddenly the bathroom door opens and in walks Abigail. Dylan immediately lets go of me and tells Abby we were just messing around. She tells him that Jay wants to leave soon so he better get out of there if he wants a ride with him. Dylan casually strolls out of the bathroom and Abby shuts the door behind him. As soon as the door closed, I burst into tears. My clothes are torn, there's blood running out of my mouth from where I bit him, and my eyes rapidly swelling. I was sitting on the edge of the bathtub and Abby knelt in front of me. Did he do this to you? She asked me.

Yes. I managed to get out between sobs. Don't worry, B. I'll handle everything. You just stay in here and I'll take care of Dylan, okay? I nodded my head and Abby left the bathroom. I moved to the floor and leaned up against the bathtub and heard shouting in our room and a lot of scuffling. I assumed Abby was handling everything as she had promised. I buried my head in my lap and waited for Abby to come tell me everything was okay and Dylan was gone.

I looked up because I heard the door open and was paralyzed with fear. Dylan was standing in front of me. He locked the bathroom door, turned to look at me, and said seven words that haunt me to this day. Abby said you needed me in here. I was terrified and heartbroken at the same time. Abby said I needed him? Oh my god, she sent him back in here? My best friend sent a predator back into the bathroom with me because she was jealous.

She chose to send my attacker back in for another round as payback for him not being into her. Dylan then reached down and grabbed my ankle, yanking me across the floor and beneath him. I remember thinking, this can't be how it ends. I'm not about to be a victim. If this monster is going to try to take what he wants, I'm not about to make it easy. I then had an idea, and I relaxed beneath him. I made him think I had given up fighting him off. He was ripping my clothes the rest of the way off when I saw my opportunity and kicked him in the face as hard as I could. Once again, Dylan's body was blocking the door so I ripped the hair dryer out of the

wall and began beating the life out of him. As he shielded himself away from my blows, he writhed away from the door enough that I could slip out. To my shock, our hotel room was empty. Not a single person, not even my best friend Abby was there. I would find out later that when Abby left the bathroom to go handle everything, she told everyone the cops were there. Naturally, everyone bounced. I panicked. I grabbed my purse from the closet and ran out of the room. I was barefoot, in my underwear and a ripped tank top, had an eye that was swollen shut, and more alcohol in my system than I had ever consumed before or since. From this moment on, my memory gets fuzzy again. The last thing I remember clearly is running from the hotel room. I don't

remember anything from my drive home. I lived about 30 minutes away from the hotel and by some miracle, I made it home in one piece. Not a smart idea. I woke up the next day black and blue all over. Everything was sore and bruised. The first person I called was Jay, my co-worker who threw the party and had invited Dylan. I asked him how well he knew Dylan and he said he went to high school with him and that they were hangout friends, meaning he has partied with him a lot but they aren't super close. I then tell Jay what happened. He was appalled and assured me he had no idea Dylan was like that. He kept apologizing for inviting him but then started making excuses for him. Jay said when Dylan came back from the club,

it was the most messed up he had ever seen him. He said, I know my boy likes to party, but I've never seen him be that torn up. He must have done some heavy stuff at the club, I swear. I don't care what he did at the club. He assaulted me. I snapped back at Jay. Jay kept making excuses, so I just ended the call. I took a shower and replayed the night's events in my head. Why didn't I make sure the door was locked? Why did I drink so much? How could Abigail do such a horrible thing to me?

She's supposed to be my best friend. I called my other friends and co-worker Jamie who had helped Jay throw us the party. Jamie tells me that she has also known Jay for years and there's no way he was in his right mind if he did what I claimed. If, if, if, if he did it? I realized in that moment that if my friends were having a hard time believing my story, law enforcement definitely wouldn't believe me. So I covered up my bruises, made up an excuse for my parents about my black guy, and went radio silent for a week. Word spread about Dylan.

I didn't answer any calls or texts, but I kept my phone on. I continuously received messages from friends saying Dylan is a good guy and I should hear his side of the story. Clearly one of these friends gave Dylan my number because he started texting me. At first he was begging me to forgive him. He claimed to have done a ton of coke at the club and had no recollection of what happened in the bathroom. He said he woke up and went to the hospital because someone had beaten him up. When I didn't respond he started threatening me, saying things like,

Jay told me you were the one who caused me to get 15 stitches in my face and head. I'm not getting kicked off the football team because you say I assaulted you. I'm the one with stitches. I never responded to any of these messages. After five days, Abigail finally called me. We hadn't gone five days without speaking in four years. Before I could stop myself, I answered the phone without saying a word. Abby says,

B, we're headed to the lake. Pick you up on the way? I didn't say anything. Hello? B, are you coming or not? She pressed. No. I responded and hung up. And that was the last time I ever spoke to Abigail. I decided not to press charges based on the excuse that I was about to move away for college in less than two months. Because I was young and naive, I also convinced myself that everyone makes mistakes. Maybe Dylan was a good guy who just made a horrible mistake.

The weekend before I left for college would reveal just how wrong that assumption was. Eight weeks later, I was enjoying my last weekend of summer at home with family. The next week I would be moving over 300 miles away for university. Some of my friends invited me to an after dark pool party. I decided to go since this would be the last chance I would have to see them before leaving. I rode to the party with my friend Ashley. We were there for about an hour when Ashley tells me she just saw Dylan when she went inside to use the bathroom. I immediately froze in place. Ashley tells me to stay outside and she will grab her purse and keys from the house and we will leave. As I'm waiting on her to return, someone comes up behind me and grabs my hips while whispering in my ear, are you going to let me finish what we started last time?

Dylan. Instantly I had confirmation of his character. He really was a predator. He showed me his true self when I first encountered him at the hotel party. He knew exactly what he was doing then and meant to assault me. Now, this piece of garbage was taunting me over it. He was relishing in the fact that he had gotten away with it. Now, I am not one to fear making a scene when I'm uneasy or feel threatened, so I screamed. Didn't I give you enough stitches last time? Stay away from me. And my sudden outburst caused everyone to look in our direction.

Dylan threw his hands up and backed away from me. At that moment, Ashley returned with her keys and we just bolted. I never saw Dylan again after that. If there's anything I want people to take from this, it's that 1. You can be in an abusive friendship. Friendships are just platonic relationships and you deserve friends who have your back no matter what. Two, never assume that friends of friends can be trusted. Trusted loved ones as well as strangers can and will take advantage of you if you let them. The story happened sometime in the mid-1980s when my mom was a teenager in high school. My mother and my aunt grew up on a farm in central Florida that was relatively in the middle of nowhere at the time. We still live in this area and it's more urbanized now, but

at this point in time it was mostly woods and farmland. My great aunt, uncle, and our cousins lived on the same property in another house however so they weren't entirely alone. But outside of that you'd have to drive a mile or maybe a little less than that or so before you reached their next neighbor. My grandfather coached for the local high school football team and my mother and aunt were cheerleaders. So on Friday he would have to coach at the school's game and my mother and aunt were cheerleaders. So on Friday he would have to coach the school's game and my mom and aunt would be there to cheerlead. The rest of the family would usually come along as well since my cousins went to the school too and there really wasn't anything else to do in that small town on a Friday night. They would usually get to the game earlier than

everyone else considering that he was a coach. One particular Friday however, my mother started feeling very sick throughout the day and by the time the evening rolled around, she felt horrible. She informed my grandfather that she wasn't really feeling up to going and that she would be staying home to rest. My grandma made her something to eat for dinner and after that, the whole family including my great aunt and great uncle went on their way. She was alone on their property. For some context we eventually ended up selling this property when I was a young child so I don't have a ton of memories about my grandparents' property. One thing I can remember was that it could get very creepy at night in the evening time and this was with other people there so being alone on it at night must the evening time, and this was with other people there, so being alone on it at night

must have been a lot more frightening. Anyways, my mom went to lay down right after they left, but not long after, maybe 5 or 10 minutes, she realizes she needed to call her cheerleading coach at school to let her know that she wasn't going to be there tonight so that she could be prepared for her absence. Keep in mind this is the mid 80s so there's no cell phones. My mom has to get up and walk all the way to the kitchen to use the phone. As she is walking through the house she starts to feel a bit creeped out. Like that classic feeling of something not being right. That instinctual feeling we get when something is just telling us that we're in a potentially bad situation and may not even know it yet.

Outside, it's getting dark out and there are not many lights on in the house, which contribute to this uneasy feeling. Very important detail, the phone in my grandparent's house has a longer cord than most phones at the time. She says that you could walk into other rooms and the cord was long enough that the phone could be brought out of the kitchen into the neighboring rooms, which are the living room, the hallway, and my grandparents' bedroom. In the hallway by the kitchen and by my grandparents' bedroom, my grandfather kept a shotgun on the wall, fully loaded and ready to go. Not the safest thing, I guess, but when you live alone in the woods, I guess you want to be ready to defend yourself the second you know you're in trouble. He had always told my mom and aunt do not touch that shotgun unless your life is in danger. She took this very seriously and had never thought

about touching the gun. By this point she was in the kitchen, she dialed the number to call her coach and informed her about her illness. I believe they continued talking for a minute or so because she says that the coach was still on the phone when my mom heard strange noises coming from my grandparents' room. My mother, very frightened, told the coach she heard something and grabbed the shotgun off the wall, phone still pressed to her ear. She wasn't sure if she was overreacting and had imagined something but she opened the door to my grandparents room and what she saw made her drop the phone right on the floor in shock. The window was completely open and there was a large man with one leg over

the windowsill and one leg still outside. What was so awkward about this was he had basically stopped in the middle of coming in when he realized he had been caught by her as if he was not expecting someone to be home, but that he simply did not expect her to have heard him coming in. They just stared at each other for a good five seconds, him just halfway in the room, and her just standing in the doorway, phone on the floor with my mom's coach still on the line asking if she was okay, shotgun in hand, staring at each other, both almost unsure what to do. My mom, terribly frightened, finally mustered up the will to speak first,

and a very shy and afraid voice she managed, I have a gun, turn around and leave or I'll shoot. The man just stood there. She said it was as if he was wondering whether she was bluffing or not. Finally, after what seemed like hours to her of just staring, he suddenly swung his other leg in very fast and turned quickly like he was about to charge her. My mother, terrified, with her hands shaking, fired the shotgun and hit him in the shoulder. The impact was so much that it knocked her back on the floor and sent the man directly out of the window he had come in. Blood was everywhere around the window.

She picked the phone back up, now sobbing, telling her coach to call the police to her house. When she looked back she saw the man running, clutching his shoulder, bleeding out all over their yard, running back to the woods behind their property. Keep in mind, he had just been shot in the shoulder with a shotgun. It's not like it was a handgun or something. This dude had basically just immediately gotten up like it was nothing and started hauling it off in the woods. I don't know the exact order of what happened next, but the police eventually did get there. My grandparents hurried home sometime shortly after, and the police were still there. I think what was most weird about this story was that there was a trail of blood

that the guy had left as he was fleeing the property that went out into the woods. The police investigated and found that it continued for some ways into the forest and eventually just stopped. There was no body or anything, like the blood just stopped and they never caught up with the guy. I think it's bizarre because she had shot him in his upper torso with a shotgun and around the window in the room looked like a scene of a horror movie there was so much blood. How he got away apparently alive and so quickly without the cops catching up is quite odd. This happened four years ago. I'm a girl and at the time this happened I was 12 going on 13 in just a month or two.

The friend I mentioned in this story was 14 at the time this happened I was 12 going on 13 in just a month or two. The friend I mentioned in this story was 14 at the time. The friend, Sally, who I was staying with that night, 14 year old female, was quite a bit older than me. At least at the time the two year age gap was quite big. At 12 to 13 years old I was about to start my second year of middle school whereas Sally should have been about to begin her sophomore year of high school. I met her in the beginning of my first year at a new school. She was older than the other kids in our grade and was considered one of the popular kids and I think that's what drew me to her at first. We quickly became friends and before we knew it we were spending every single weekend together. Seriously, every single weekend. Nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary. It was your typical Friday night. We carpooled to our family's apartment after school. I've always been a picky eater,

so when her family had dinner, I didn't eat with them. I just snacked on the pop tart that I'd stowed away in my backpack in case they ordered something that I wouldn't eat. Something to note is that her family was pretty religious. I wouldn't go as far as to say that they were fanatics, but they didn't allow their kids to watch horror movies or anything that was rated PG-13 or older. It didn't stem from the desire to protect them from something inappropriate. Sally's mother had an irrational fear that scary movies had satanic messages. We asked to watch The Purge and her mom obviously said no. After some negotiating, she agreed to let us watch Hunger Games instead.

After the movie, Sally and I went to hang out in her room. She put on some music and being the age we were, we gave each other makeovers. By the end of it, we were looking much older than just 12 and 14. This part of the night is when things started to seem off to me. Sally wasn't the most positive influence. Despite being my best friend at the time, she was manipulative and got off on putting me down. She had a habit of talking to men online and lying about her age. Sally showed me some texts between her and the man she was talking to. I can't give you an exact recount of them, but they consisted of him trying to convince her to meet up with him and just the usual things you'd expect from a creep online.

According to him, he was 19, tall, and blonde with soulful blue eyes. Once I saw the texts, I asked if she had a picture of him. Something didn't sit right with me after seeing the messages. She showed me what he looked like and he was very clearly not 19. This man was at least 40 and looked like he lived in his mother's basement. Then we got a call from him. Sally answered without hesitation and when I heard the voice on the other end of the call, I felt like I was going to be sick. You're so pretty, why don't you come meet me? He asked. Sally said that she couldn't because she was spending the night with a friend. The mention of that sparked his interest, and then he proceeded to try and ask us both to

meet him. Sally, lacking any common sense, said yes. Thus began her plan for us to sneak out and walk 15 blocks to meet him in a deserted McDonald's parking lot. I didn't want to go. I was raised on stories of what happens to teen girls who meet random men from the internet in person. But after adamant pleading from Sally that she didn't feel safe going by herself, I agreed. We took our phones with us for the walk. I had a kitchen knife stuffed in my bra in case something were to happen and I needed to defend myself. The route we had to take to get there didn't have very many street lamps and there weren't any houses. We were surrounded by trees on both sides of us. When we got to the parking lot,

the only car parked nearby was a black beat up 2000 Toyota Corolla. The car was still running when we got there and from what we could tell there was more than one person inside. The man from the picture got out of the front passenger seat and left the door open behind him before approaching us. I turned my flash on so I could see and he was obviously on something. I can't tell you what kind of drug it was for the life of me but his eyes were so wide that it looked like they were about to pop out of his head. He was jittery and kept twitching. I became very conscious of how big he was. Maybe 6'2", around 280 pounds.

For reference, my friend and I did not look our ages, even without makeup. I'm about 5'2". My friend was pretty tall, probably around 5'6"-5'7", and we were both significantly smaller than him. The man reached out for us and caught my friend by the arm. I went to get my knife as quickly as I could, and that's when I saw his friends getting out of the car. He invited us back to his car and offered us booze and drugs, but after seeing my knife and that I was ready to call the police, he released my friend. I took Sally's arm and ran faster than I ever had in my entire life.

We took the long way home to avoid them finding out where she lived in case they were following us. Once we got there, her family was still sound asleep. We locked all the doors, closed the blinds, and blocked him on everything. There wouldn't be any sleeping that night. We were constantly peeking out the window and to our dismay, that same Toyota was circling around her apartment building. Not once, not twice, but at least three times. I never mentioned any of this to my parents out of fear of getting grounded or in trouble. I'm 16 now and they still have no clue. I still get nervous when I see a car similar to the one from that night. As for Sally, her parents never found out either. We agreed

never to speak about it again. Thankfully, she moved into a new house just a few weeks after that happened. Safe to say Sally and I haven't spoken in three years. She was angry at me for ruining her night as she put it and our friendship didn't last long after that. We had a pretty bad falling out but looking back on it now was definitely for the better. And that was definitely the last night I ever snuck out. When I was in high school, I worked part-time at a taekwondo studio teaching kids classes. Taekwondo was a big part of my life. My dad was Korean and was adamant about starting me young. So when I was 6 years old I got pushed into the realm of martial arts. And I loved it. I got my black belt at age 9 and I even competed on an international scale. So when my coach asked me

if I wanted to work part time to get some extra cash and help with our lack of staff, I didn't waste a second to agree. Now because age is regarded differently in South Korea, I started American high school at 13, just a little younger than most kids, and there were even a few more my age. So it wasn't shocking in itself, but I was pretty small compared to most kids my age, so a lot of teachers and other adults thought I wasn't supposed to be there. Point being, I was very obviously a child. Now I was also in a high school sports team that also required practice so throughout high school my schedule looked like this. Mom would drive me to school at 6am for practice. I'd stay in practice after school until about 4.30 and walk to get the 4.45

bus to my studio. I believe it was my sophomore year when I was 14. I left school to make the bus per usual when I noticed a car driving really slow around campus. I went to a pretty big school so I figured it was just a parent looking for their kid. That was until I got to the bus stop and noticed the car circling the block my stop was on. I've gotten cat called before, honked at, etc. so while it did put me on edge and disgust me considering I look like I was 11, it wasn't totally new to me. What was new however, this dude pulling up to the curb and stopping his car in the bus lane. Luckily this was a busy intersection near a school in rush hour traffic, so at least he had the common sense not to get out of his ratty old Volvo. Too many witnesses,

I guess. At this point, I was on the phone with my sister, speaking in Korean as to not let this man know that I was giving her a description of him, his car, the street, and his plate number. My sister knew something was up when I started speaking Korean because we almost always speak English at home unless we're talking to or with our dad. Mom was born in America so she speaks English. But this ignorant SOB hits me with nihao and I wish I could say that was the cringiest thing but this wouldn't be much of a story if it was. You Asian girls are so cute. Kawaii, you know. When I wasn't giving a reaction, this idiot proceeds to move into the passenger seat and stick his head out the window. You kawaii. You so kawaii. In the slowest,

loudest, most obnoxious voice that made me want to run into oncoming traffic. Then he picks up his phone. He dials a number and waits for someone to pick up. Hey man, I'm over here. There's this cute little Asian thing at the corner. I don't know, Japanese, Chinese, one of those Oriental folk. Speaks no English, she's real tiny, 110 soaking wet and sitting at the bus stop. Yeah? For sure. Alright, see you later brother. I don't know if it was the ignorance, the creepiness, or the fact that this 40-something year old white guy with a beer belly and a musty old Volvo was trying to sound like a teenager, but I wanted to dropkick this man off a cliff. But alas, my bus came and I practically flew on inside in relief as he drove away when the bus pulled up. But of course,

that wasn't enough for him. You'd think that after how cute he said that I was looking would be enough, but no. That ratty old car drove behind my bus for 20 minutes until my stop. Luckily, I got off the phone with my sister and had already called my coach and boss to let him know what was up. He was like another father to me and I knew he was livid. He sent on his son, who we'll call B, who was 16 and but an absolute unit. If I hadn't grown up with him I'd be scared too. This kid was 6'2", 180 pounds, and was so ripped, he looked like he ate raw chicken for breakfast. When my bus pulled up and I saw him standing across the street, I just sobbed out of relief. But of course, Creeper 2.0 had stopped behind

the bus, jumped out of his car as soon as my bus came to a stop. B saw the dude and booked it across the crosswalk to meet me, and this dude cowered like a stray puppy. In a matter of seconds this man was back in his creeper mobile and sped off so fast you could actually smell the burnt rubber. B walks with me down to the studio and into the staff room where I cried with him and his dad for like 30 minutes and then called the non-emergency line to give all the information I had. From then on, B met me at the bus stop every day before work, and when he got his license, he would just pick me up from school himself. We actually started dating about a half a year later and are still going strong.

So, creepy old Volvo dude, thanks for helping me meet the love of my life, but I hope you get in a crash with a semi-truck. So do y'all remember when Popeye's chicken sandwich was at its peak and someone actually shot someone over a sandwich? Well, I got a story similar, just instead of taking a life, it saved mine. Let me start by saying this is all 100% true. With some quick google searches you can find all the details of this story within this story but this is my side. At the time I was going through a rough patch. I wasn't really working, I had my own floor shop if you know what I mean, and I was sleeping late, barely paying bills, you know the same sob story. I also, because I didn't have much extra cash at the time, hadn't had the Popeye's chicken sandwich yet. This will be very

important to the story, life changing actually. I woke up just like any other day, smoked a bowl, shower, ate a little breakfast and played some video games, hoping my phone would ring, and soon around mid-noon I would have a few good sales lined up, so off to town I drove. I turned out of my gate headed north down Highway 76 in Wilson, Oklahoma. If that sounds familiar, it's because it is. If you heard the story of Molly Miller and Colt Haynes, Highway 76 in Wilson, Oklahoma is where they went missing. When we bought this property, the FBI or someone actually came to excavate for their bodies on our property. Their crosses are on the corner of my property and were there when we bought it. There's lots of stories about this area and everything you've heard is true. Now back to the main story, with a little extra cash in my pocket around the time one

of my friends calls me and asks me if I wanted to hang out with him at another friend's . I say I'm down and after picking him up and a 15 minute drive across town we're rolling blunts passing them around, laughing and coughing like it's a ghetto track meet and telling stories that, surprisingly, you wouldn't believe. An eighth or so later and a few stories past, it's getting closer to dinner time and for everyone to start heading back home and getting ready for the next day, including the blue-collar 9-to-5 workers. My friend mentions he hadn't had the Popeye's chicken sandwich either and after a quick what's better with weed than a fried chicken sandwich, nothing, conversation, we're off to

get and eat our sandwiches. And man, they're good. I don't know if I'd kill someone they're so good but between you and I, me being a former Chick-fil-A employee, Popeyes sandwiches are better. No, I eat like a starving baby hyena and my friend had the munchies so 10-15 minutes later we're done and I've dropped him off. I'm driving home on highway 32 in Lone Grove doing about 55 speeding up 65 mph when I get past a cop with his sirens on like I'm a stranded turtle. I think to myself, I haven't seen anyone so that's a little excessive, huh? About 5 miles later I'm in the 65 area of highway 32. I drive a little faster and I'm doing 75 when another cop again passes me like his life is on the line. Little did I know I would soon find out it wasn't his life.

I drive through Wilson and turn down Highway 76. It's overcast by this time and starting to drizzle a little. Again, I have to restate that I'm not just setting the mood. This is all 100% true, as painful as it is for me to say. And after looking at the facts, it's very painful. I'm about a half mile from my driveway, if that, when I crest a hill and I see more cops than a Fast and Furious movie. I slow down on the first thing I think of is my parents. They were out driving so I call them and everything's all good. I take a back way home and being whatever happened was directly in front of our friend's property, we call them to see did they know any details and what they told us was gut-wrenching.

About 10-15 minutes prior, the same 10-15 minutes I was eating my chicken sandwich, that put me not directly following one of our further down neighbors, Kent maybe his name was, and the other person involved. They were driving home after the work day, Kent being maybe three miles the other woman driver maybe ten seconds from turning her blinker on to enter her highway after following each other when an 18-wheeler coming the opposite direction crosses the center lane, sideswiping Ken, and colliding head-on with the woman. There wasn't much left to Kent's bed on his truck. However, for the woman. There wasn't much left to Kent's bed on his truck. However, for the woman, there wasn't much left of the entire front end of her Chevy Equinox SUV.

The car isn't at fault here. Every airbag, crush point, and support did what it was supposed to and capable of. You just don't realize how big an 18-wheeler is until you see the damage it does to another car. Miraculously though, the woman was still breathing. A care flight was called and she was rushed to a hospital where she would fight for her life but ultimately lose the battle. She left behind a husband, a daughter, my niece played with her a lot at school when they still lived in the area, and a son, the daughter and son of which would have been coming home with their mother that fateful day had their dad not got off early and picked them up early from school.

It's not a scary story, but it's truly chilling when you think that a decision to stop for a chicken sandwich is the exact ten minutes I needed to be writing this today. When I was 17 years old in 2005, I lived in a quiet village where nothing ever happened. At least, that's what we thought. I had just gotten my license and I was excited to meet up with my older boyfriend in the city on the weekend. It was the first time I was able to drive my car alone since getting my license, so the occasion was a celebration of sorts. I live in Wisconsin, so the distance between nowhere land and city isn't a great distance, 40 miles to Milwaukee. The highway to the major cities is a hop, skip,

and a jump. Shortly after leaving the village, I noticed a white car on the side of the road, which wouldn't be uncommon for the area except for it being in summer. During winter here, it's always a common courtesy to stop and see if they need help, but since it wasn't danger season, I normally wouldn't think twice about it. However, there was an 8-ish year old boy walking away from the car. We were at least a mile away from civilization behind me, 14 miles to the nearest city and I stopped to see what I could do to help. I had expected that he was with a grandparent that couldn't walk that sort of distance back to town for help. This was in a

time when having a cell phone wasn't that common yet and the young and the old being 2005. I pulled over next to the boy and asked him what was going on. He told me he was on the way to the only car repair shop in town which was at least three miles away from where we were. I said that was a very long way off to walk and I offered him a ride. He was hesitant and I told him I'm a student at the high school a mile away. I wouldn't let him hold my cell phone and my ID until we got there if he ever felt afraid he could easily dial 911 without me being able to stop him and we were only a three minute drive from where he was going. I said we should talk to the person in the car first and the boy seemed to panic. First red flag.

No, it's fine, just go. I was like, okay? I was just a kid myself, and my local address was clearly on my ID. He looked at my ID for a minute and got into the car. He seemed at ease with holding my phone and my ID. This was a time before you could dial 911 without a passcode. I gave him my passcode and he seemed at ease when he could get into my phone. I told him not to check my boyfriend's messages because he was too young.

Lol. With the times and neighborhood we were around, that was reasonable to me. I didn't suspect anything. Then the car that was pulled over that couldn't move suddenly screeched out of its spot and raced after me with its blinkers on insisting that I pull over. I looked over to the kid in the passenger seat with my eyeball raised. Again, the child was about 8 years old. He just shook with fear next to me. The man in the car pulled over behind me, got out and slammed his car door behind him in a rage as he strutted up to my window.

This was odd to me since they were supposed to be broken down and the kid looked extremely afraid. When he walked up I rolled my window down enough so I could hear him and he told me he was a social worker and the child I had picked up was a danger to himself and others and I was in danger sitting next to him while driving. He could have killed me. I was afraid because I hadn't expected a broken down car to chase me and I was having a hard time believing what he was saying. I turned to this boy next to me after I rolled up the window and this guy's face I said, do you know this man? Is what he's saying true? I'm really sorry. I'm pretty scared right now. The fear in my eyes, I think the kid misunderstood. I wasn't afraid of him. I was afraid of the man outside my window.

The boy said no. I think he was trying to protect me too. The situation wasn't sitting with me. Something seemed really off and with how aggressive the man outside my window was, I really was afraid he looked like he would have hit me if I had rolled the window down far enough. The kid said no, he'd be okay and got out of my car and went with him. The look of dread on his face haunts my dreams to this day. It still didn't sit well with me that he got into the man's car and they drove away towards the city. I called my date and told him I would be very late and went to the school as fast as my car could take me with a license plate in mind. I talked to the liaison officer at my school after I ran into the building screaming his name like a banshee. I told him about the kid and he said before I had

even gotten there someone had dialed 911 about me stopping to pick up the kid and they were apprehended just as I got to the school. The caller was suspicious of me too which scared my liaison officer. I was the school's biggest goody two shoes despite being the only goth. I gave my statement right there. I was told to never stop for a child again lest I were to ever be suspected of abduction and he said I was still in the wrong. I shouldn't have gotten involved. What if the man had a gun? But the man in the car went to jail and the boy was brought safely back home. He couldn't give me any details on the case but since the man was apprehended

and questioned and the boy was brought home that's all I ever was told. I'm not sure what crime I stopped that day but that day I know I saved that boy from certain unknown abuse and I'm just glad that I stopped't know. About seven years ago, my husband and I were living with his parents. His mother didn't work, so essentially we were there helping his dad pay bills that his mom and her friends, aka neighborhood tweakers, would rack up. His mother was friends with a couple, let's call them Debbie and Dave, who lived in an RV with their young son. And she agreed that for $100, they could park in front of our house and use electric and water.

They were kind of odd, but nice for the most part. They'd never really been creepy, and I'd never been alone with either Debbie or Dave before this. Usually I would just exchange small pleasantries and passing on my way to or from work or school, not a big deal. Anyways, summer rolls around and I had a bit more free time during the day which meant I was hanging around at home more often. We had a big patio in the back and a nice setup with a table, chairs, and outdoor bar. I made a habit of heading out there in the mornings to drink my coffee and smoke a bowl. It was quiet and I enjoyed not having to deal with everyone else. This morning seemed off

though. When I got up to get coffee at around 8am, the front door was wide open. Weird, but we had a lot of people in and out so I figured someone came and left and forgot to shut it. So I shut it on my way to get coffee and go out back. I finished my came and left and forgot to shut it. So I shut it on my way to get coffee and go out back. I finish my coffee and smoke and head back inside to get a second cup of coffee and the door again is open. I start to shut it again when I hear someone yelling at me. Hey, hold on. I need it open. I look out the door and here comes Dave with his huge basket of clothes. Can you show me how to use your washer? Yeah, no problem. So I take Dave to the laundry room and show him how to use her washer dryer,

then try to leave to get my second cup of coffee. I'm halfway out the door when Dave grabs my arm pretty hard and says, Wait, where are you going? I need to talk to you. He then goes on to explain he's going to dump Debbie and their son and leave them at her mom's house. And then came the big creepy moment. You could move into the RV with me if you wanted. I tried to as nice as I could let him know that I was married and had no interest in living in an RV. I was 22 at the time. Now if that didn't already make me angry and creep me out, the next sentence out of his mouth sure did.

And I'm sorry, but you don't seem that serious about that guy because you flirt with me all the time. I didn't. I'd barely spoken to this man, let alone flirt with him. Being somewhat nervous and a bit mad at this mid-forties balding beer-gutted jobless dirty man, I laid into him. I let him know in a now not so nice way that I love my husband, had never flirted with him, thought it was good he was ditching his son with his mom and grandma because then he'd have a way better life and lastly to screw off because I wasn't going to live in an RV with anyone and especially not him. Debbie later asked me if I had been rude to her husband. I then let her know the whole story, at which point she also got angry and kicked him out of the RV. I haven't seen Dave

since he got kicked out of that RV and as for Debbie and the son, when the end of the month rolled around, they drove off to Nevada. This story happened to me a few months ago. I'm a 24-year-old female from a small city that contains a major hospital slash clinic where I attended nursing school. Because the parking is next to impossible, I would sleep at my best friend's house before clinicals, which are just like mock nursing shifts for students. My friend lives nearly a mile or less from the hospital, so it would be easier to sleep at his house than walk or scooter there if we were around. I had walked there for months with no significant events. Granted, it was around 5 or 6 in the morning and would seldom cross paths with another on the way. One morning, I decided to leave early to get a head start on some of the preparation required.

It was around 5 in the morning and I was about to leave while listening to a Let's Read podcast. I had my earbuds in and was trying to get my scooter set up with an app on my phone. Out of nowhere, I started to hear something that sounded like yelling. I took off my earbuds about a hundred feet away and there was a man shouting mostly unintelligible things. The man was very tall, hooded and dressed in all black. I couldn't make out his face but he looked unkempt and scruffy. I was only able to make out one of the things he was yelling which was, my friend got shot out here. I started back walking because the tone seemed threatening. Then he breaks out in the full sprint right at me and I book it back to my friend's house. He has a four seasons porch before you enter the hallway to get inside and by the time I made it into my friend's door, he was right outside

the porch. He was a hundred feet away and it took him about 3 seconds to get that close. As I get inside, I hear more yelling but I cannot make out the words and then a loud pop which I can only presume was a gunshot. I was frightened but mostly like what just happened? I didn't call the cops because I simply didn't want to have to deal with being late. I've since theorized a couple reasons he would yell that someone was shot. One, he was trying to lure me by saying someone was shot and that he needed help. Two, he was threatening me and implying that you should not be walking alone on these streets. I let my guard down because I had been on that street before and nothing had ever happened

but ever since then I've had a taser and mace at the ready with my head on a swivel. To be continued... This story happened to me around four years ago, and when I think of a scary experience, it's this one. I've been listening to this podcast for a while now and decided it was time to share. Around this time I was seven or eight, I can't quite remember, and I was with my sister a year younger than me. We were going to sports practice and my mother had to run a few errands. If you have never been to a homes goods store, it's basically a store with all kinds of things to decorate your house. For instance, furniture, rugs, kitchen utensils, and other sculptures. We had been planning on buying a couch for somewhere in the house, but my sister was being stubborn and wanted to stay in the car. Finally, my mother just went

in by herself, leaving us in the car. We had parked our car, with heavily tinted windows, in front of a locksmith shop, which is like a small booth that sold keys. My sister and I became very bored and decided to see how many keys on display we could count, which was fun at the time I guess. We were sitting in the back of the car and we didn't have cell phones which will be important later. Then we see this man come to the booth and then another't have cell phones which will be important later. Then we see this man come to the booth and then another person came out from inside of it. The locksmith who left the booth had a small object in his hand. At the time I couldn't tell exactly what but

now I know that it was probably an electronic lockpick or some other tool. They both shared a few words and pointed to our car. We were both scared and didn't speak and were even more frightened when they came to the driver's side door and we heard mechanical clicking sounds echoing through the car. My sister began to scream and my adrenaline fired up. My brain entered autopilot mode as I flicked the lock on my door, setting off the alarm to the locked car. The locksmith and the other man jumped and stepped back, frightened by the alarm. They both jogged over to the booth and shut the door. All the while, I kept flicking the lock of my door to keep the alarm going and trying to comfort

my crying sister. The two men ran out of the booth and got in the locksmith van and drove off. I was too shaken to get the license plate number but eventually my mother came back to the car and we tell her what happened. She didn't call the police but he didn't get inside the car and there was nothing we could do. Every time we drive by that booth I can't help but think what would have happened to us if I hadn't been quick to think. Hey friends, thanks for listening. To be continued... official, and maybe even hear your story featured on the next video. And if you want to support me even more, grab early access to all future narrations for just $1 a month on Patreon,

and maybe even pick up some Let's Read merch on Spreadshirt. Thanks so much, friends, and I'll see you again soon.