The Lets Read Podcast - 244: THE WORST CASE I'VE EVER WORKED | 26 True Scary Stories | EP 232

Episode Date: June 18, 2024

This episode includes narrations of true creepy encounters submitted by normal folks just like yourself. Today you'll experience horrifying stories about unsolved police investigations, attempted kidnappings, & weddings that went terribly wrong HAVE A STORY TO SUBMIT? www.Reddit.com/r/LetsReadOfficial Or over email: [e-mail] FOLLOW ME ON - ►YouTube - https://www.youtube.com/c/letsreadofficial ► Instagram - https://www.instagram.com/letsread.official/ ► Twitter - https://twitter.com/LetsRead ♫ Music & Audio Mix: INEKT https://www.youtube.com/@inekt Today's episode is sponsored by BetterHelp

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I didn't. It started out with a fatal traffic accident on Highway 1 out near Narragansett. Some idiot on a motorcycle had been driving the wrong way down a highway and it smashed right into a mother of three coming the other way, scattered them both like jimmies all over the road. Since the investigating officer was tied up with a ton of paperwork, me and my superior officer had to go deliver the news of the motorcyclist's death to their next of kin. Only from what I heard, it wasn't your average case of death by dangerous driving. At some point, the motorcyclist banged a Yui and began driving the opposite way. He might have been drunk or high.

We wouldn't have known until toxicology came back, but the crash scene investigator had noticed something very strange. Although the guy was caught a few miles back doing around 70, the CSI said that there was no way that he'd hit the woman's car doing anything less than a buck ninety. He'd seen plenty of head-on collisions in the 70s range, and this wasn't one of them. The damage to both the front end of the sedan as well as the motorcycle itself was completely catastrophic, and our investigator figured that it was some kind of crazy way of taking their own life. Take someone with me as I go kind of deal.

Either way, we still had to go deliver the news, and we had to do it in a way befitting the occasion, you know? No mention of him taking his own life, smashing into the mom, nothing like that. It took the coroner a while to get an ID on a biker, but in the end, we got one. And in turn, we got the address of the house that he shared with his wife and kid. The address came back as a match to this big old house in an upscale neighborhood, so we drove over in the early evening to try and make sure that someone would be home at our time of calling. Now looking back, this is the first part that really started to raise some alarm bells. Usually speaking, if a person dies in a car accident in the early hours of the morning,

someone reports them missing a few hours later. It's usually a family member, girlfriend or boyfriend who worries about their unusually tardy worker, but sometimes it's the person's employer. We might not find a body until after this report has been made, but this makes identifying a body much easier because then we can just draw from the list of recently reported missing persons. I'm not saying we never get cases where a person has no one to report them missing. That happens too, and it's sad as hell. But they tend to be homeless people, drug addicts, and sometimes old folks. People unfortunate enough to be on the bottom rungs of society due to sheer bad luck or their own dumb decisions. But then, to have some wealthy suburban father die in an

accident and not a single person reports them missing? Something's going on. We see two cars parked in the driveway, so we're 99% sure someone is home, but when we rang the doorbell, there was no answer. And this happens more than you think. A person might be taking a bath, wearing headphones, doing yard work out back, or have some other perfectly innocent reason for not coming to the door. So, as standard procedure, we went walking around the property looking for any sign of our biker's wife or kids. After finding an unlocked side gate that led into the backyard, we walked up onto this rear porch type thing that had big glass windows which looked into the home's kitchen. Everything looked exactly how it should be, except over near the refrigerator where all kinds of food items were lying neatly on the floor

like little audience members. I pointed it out to my sergeant who was busy checking one of the home's side windows and he peered through the glass for a second or two before taking a step back, using a stretched out arm to bring me with him. He then ordered me to radio dispatch that we had probable cause to force our way into the home, which took me by surprise because I sure as hell didn't see what he was seeing to make him think that. Still, I did as I was told, while my sergeant put his boot to the door until it finally broke open. I'm kind of embarrassed to admit it, but it took me that long to see what he had been seeing. Or I think a better way to put it would be to ask the question that he had asked himself. Why would someone just empty their fridge out like that?

The whole shebang too, even the glass shelves and the plastic drawer. Because they wanted to put something big inside of it, something real big that they needed to keep from turning rotten and stinking up the place. I'll give you one good guess as to what that thing was. We pulled his wife's body out of the fridge and his infant daughter's out of the freezer. Both had been beaten to a pulp, strangled, and then folded up like pretzels before he stuffed them in there like they didn't matter at all to him. By then, we had a good idea of what had happened, and collecting evidence just felt like a pointless formality. The guy killed his family,

and then he went to off himself because he couldn't live with the guilt. It was an open and shut case on the surface, but two things didn't sit right with any of the investigating officers. Number one, the guy had no record, not even so much as a speeding ticket. He also had zero history of mental health issues. Friends and family said the guy didn't have a violent bone in his body, and nothing in his or his wife's cell phone suggested that they had been arguing Or even that their relationship had been remotely strained Number two, when we spoke to family and friends It became clear that not a single person in our biker's life Knew that he even had a motorcycle, not even his bank

We figured it was a recent purchase as how the hell do even had a motorcycle, not even his bank. We figured it was a recent purchase, as how the hell do you hide a motorcycle? But when we gained access to the guy's bank account statements from the previous two years, it was nothing. We checked his checking account, his personal savings account, even the joint account that he shared with his late wife, but again, nothing. This meant that he probably paid for the bike with cash or was given it as a sort of gift. But more importantly, why keep it a secret? And number three, the third point of sort of contention and probably the weirdest of all, was that our biker might have actually known the woman he smashed into.

This didn't come out until way after the case was closed, and it was all down to the work of a private investigator hired by the woman's surviving husband. But apparently, our biker and the mom of three had worked in the same Manhattan office building during the late 2000s. It had only been for a brief period of three or four months, and since they worked on different floors for different companies, there's no evidence that they ever interacted. But our biker slams into a woman on a dark stretch of highway, and it just so happens to be a person that he might have shared an elevator with. I'm not saying that there's something there, but I also wouldn't rule out that there was some kind of connection, which is exactly what the department did. Even if we did

get answers to some of these questions, and there was something deeper going on, it's not like we could prosecute a dead guy, you know? So that's where we were left with things. Completely in limbo. No closure whatsoever for anyone involved. All that stuff still really plays on my mind, and I guess only four or five years have passed, but I get the feeling those questions are going to stay with me for a long, long time. But such is life, I guess. Closure is a rare thing, and time isn't the healer people make it out to be. I used to work for the Jefferson County Sheriff's Office here in Alabama, and this one time, we got a call about a guy with a knife

walking up and down outside his house, threatening anyone who passed by. We show up, the guy's barefoot and in his underwear, and is clearly going through some kind of psychological episode. We're trained to de-escalate, but that's hard enough at the best of times, even with right-thinking people. Throw a little mania into the mix and, well, things get unpredictable. We pull up and get out of the car. I've got the lethal while my partner has the non-lethal and we start trying to begin a dialogue with our suspect as per our de-escalation training.

The guy is completely off the rails though, ranting and raving about his ex-wife and their deceased child. My partner is getting all sympathetic with the guy, asking him to put his knife down so they could talk about what had him so upset and for a minute there he seemed to calm down a little. But then the next thing thing we knew, he was totally manic again, barking out all this racist stuff about his neighbors and how they were trying to kill him. And once again, we tried our best to talk him down while keeping our distance, knowing that a man of his size could potentially inflict a single fatal stab wound. He was at least 6'2", older but wiry and fueled by adrenaline, obviously.

He would be able to close the distance between us in seconds. Unfortunately, he didn't seem to have a direct problem with us and I quickly got the impression that if he were to stab someone, it probably wouldn't be me or my partner. Little did I know how right I was going to be. Witnessing it happen is something that has stayed with me, crystal clear in my memory for almost 20 years now. I remember the guy's voice shifting from angry and manic to tired and somewhat sad as he asked us if he would have to go to jail. We were honest with him because as the saying goes, honesty is always the best policy. If you lie to someone in that state, they'll insist like a mule that you were trying to put

the cuffs on them. And the best approach is to talk to them as if though you're on their side, explaining that going to jail is actually what will get them out of the volatile situation they've gotten themselves into. They might respond, saying things like, I can't, I can't go to jail. But often that's just the denial phase of accepting that they're about to be arrested. My partner and I try to guide the person through it, suggesting that they could be back out in hours and that if they couldn't secure a bail, they might receive credit for time served due to not having actually harmed anyone. I honestly thought this approach would bring him back down to earth. He was already

calming down and I believe that knowing that he wouldn't face severe consequences would allow us to cuff him without a struggle. However, instead of surrendering, the man looked at us with this really sad expression and said, I'm sorry, and then plunged the knife into his own neck. It felt like time slowed for a second or two as he did it. Initially he held the knife facing downwards as if though he'd been preparing to stab someone on the sort of downward thrust. But then came the moment that he stopped, looked at the knife, and flipped it 180 degrees before gripping it tightly with both hands. You could see him trying to find the will to do it, trembling slightly before he drove it into his neck,

and both my partner and I were shouting, don't do it, don't do it, but it was futile. However, it wasn't just that he stabbed himself in his own neck, nor the sound that it made, the sort of sick crunch as he tore through the tough tissue in his throat. It was the fact that he pulled the knife out and did it again. My partner reacted before I could, using his stun gun to incapacitate the man before rushing over to control the bleeding. The worst part was watching him wait a few seconds for the stun gun to lose its charge before attempting to cover the wounds. As you can probably imagine, it didn't bring much success. Blood was literally squirting

out from between my partner's fingers and I don't think the man survived for more than a few minutes before my partner abandoned his attempts to stop the bleeding. He was pronounced dead at the scene, and by the time the EMTs arrived, the man looked like a ghost. If it weren't for the blood covering him, he would have been as pale as a sheet. He sort of laid there motionless, his eyes wide open as he tried to prevent the rest of the neighborhood from gathering around and taking pictures. There's something else you never get over. I understand the desire to know what's happening in your own neighborhood, but for people to take out their cell phones and start recording this man's final moments, that's something I can never comprehend. These videos end up online, watched by hundreds of thousands of people. It turns the worst day of someone's

life for their final moments into some sort of spectacle, something to stare at through a screen before leaving a comment and moving on. I can't think of anything more disgusting, even if I tried. During the early years of my career as a sheriff deputy, there was this one investigation that became incredibly unsettling and it stayed with me all these years later. We received a call about a young person sleeping in a car at the end of a dirt road. The owner of the property mentioned that technically, the individual was trespassing, but he didn't want to report it that way. He expressed concern that the young person seemed distressed and might need someone to check on them. So that's what I did. I drove

out to the location where the young person's car was, and when I say young person, they were probably in their late teens or early twenties. When I found the car, I checked the license plate to see if any information came up. As it turned out, that young person was reported as missing, and the car belonged to their extremely worried mother. This discovery provided some reassurance, and I believed that I would likely be able to convince them to go back home. If they were cooperative, I would simply let them continue on their way. However, if they decided to be difficult, I could detain them for trespassing. Either way, I thought the problem would be resolved. I approached this

person's car slowly and noticed them reclined all the way back in the front passenger seat. I gently tapped on the window, keeping my hand close to my sidearm. As they woke up, I made sure to greet them with a friendly smile and a playful, wakey wakey buddy, do you mind if we have a little... I didn't finish my sentence because I realized that that young person wasn't paying attention. Their eyes widened to the point where it seemed like they might pop out of their head, and I watched the color drain from their face before I suddenly saw a gun in their hand. Instinctively, my training kicked in and I watched the color drain from their face before I suddenly saw a gun in their hand. Instinctively, my training kicked in and I swiftly moved back while drawing my own weapon.

I shouted, drop the gun, drop the gun, repeatedly. And it all happened too quickly for me to fully comprehend what I was witnessing. But in one fluid motion, they bit down on the barrel, pulled the trigger, and took their own life. Still trembling from the rush of adrenaline, I waited for backup and EMTs to arrive in an attempt to save that young person's life, but unfortunately there wasn't anything I could do. They were pronounced dead at the scene and it fell upon me to deliver the heartbreaking news to their mother. That was one of the most difficult tasks I have ever faced and it left me shaken for quite some time. Unfortunately, everything I have shared so far, as weighty as it was, is not the reason why I am constantly reminded of what had happened. It's the information I learned afterward that truly terrified me. I managed

to obtain a copy of this person's missing person report, which essentially contained all the details their mother provided on the day they went missing. She said she woke up in the middle of the night and smelled smoke. She got out of bed and quickly discovered the smoke was coming from a trash can fire in her backyard. She went downstairs, filled a bucket of water, and then threw it over the fire to extinguish the flame. Then, correctly assuming that it was her son who started the fire, she went looking for him to confront him. And that's when she discovers that not only is her child missing,

but her car is missing too. She dials 911 to report him missing right away, and later that morning, she starts trying to figure out what her child had been burning. It was his computer, and from the looks of it, a bunch of his clothes too. They were all severely burned, so not easily recognizable, but a quick check of his bedroom was enough to figure out what was missing. I learned all that when I delivered the bad news, and when the mother had shared everything she possibly could with me. She was incredibly brave, by the way. She asked, what should I do next? Since there was no evidence of any crime being actually committed, the decision was essentially hers. I told her that if I were in

her shoes, I would try to recover the data from his computer's hard drive if possible, as it would likely provide some clue as to why her son did what he did. And apart from that, I had no idea what I would do in her position. To lose a child like that, in such sudden and mysterious circumstances, I can't even imagine the pain that must have been. So, in the end, all I could do was tell her to call me if she needed anything and offered her my deepest condolences. Months passed, and I handled hundreds of other calls, and the story of that kid faded into the background of my thoughts. And then one day, the mother called me with some news.

In the immediate aftermath of her son's death, one of the first things she needed to do was have her car cleaned. Obviously, a private company was hired to do the job with instructions to put everything that wasn't too blood-stained into a large black duffel bag so the mother could sort through it later. It took her a while to get around to it, knowing that most of the stuff would be the clutter that had been lying around her car, but when she finally got to it, she found an old menu flyer from some diner up in Oregon. She had never been to Oregon, and as far as she knew, neither had her son, so she was obviously confused. Then on the back there were two phone numbers, one for a fixed landline and one for a cell phone. She called the fixed landline first to find it

disconnected but after typing it into Google she found out it was registered to some shipping company that claimed to be permanently closed. Then she tried calling the cell phone number and this time the line started to ring and someone eventually answered. She said the person sounded male, older, with some kind of accent and then when she mentioned her son, the person hung up on her. She tried calling back but the phone wouldn't ring and she tried again later but it was disconnected. She appeared convinced that the secretive man and the bankrupt shipping company had some involvement in her son's death and if her account is true I can't blame her at all. However, since there was no evidence of any wrongdoing our department couldn't take any action. Unlike our initial conversation I wasn't as eager to suggest a private investigator

this time. Whatever she had discovered, it was significant and dangerous, and she was clearly in over her head. I used to believe that the uncertainty would be her downfall, but I later realized that uncovering the truth might also be fatal for her. If you force me to choose from all the unusual calls I've attended, I think I'd have to pick this one. We received a call reporting a 911 incident of domestic violence. Both the woman and her husband were injured and although the worst was over, she needed some officers to come over and get him. My partner and I ended up being those two officers. Now when you mention domestic violence incident, people usually have a specific idea of what that entails. Cops show up, a couple argues, maybe throws things at each other. We intervene, separate them, and that's the end of it. Now don't get me wrong,

that exact scenario happens quite often, but domestic violence incidents can be as unique and diverse as the people involved, both as investigators and victims. Not to emphasize it too much, but you never know what you're arriving at. You simply have to handle it on a case-by-case basis. So during this particular call, we arrive at the given address only to find a woman in her late 50s sitting on the porch. She's holding frozen peas wrapped in a towel against her split lip, but apart from that injury, she seems fine, and the incident appears to be over. We're still somewhat tense as we inquire about her husband's whereabouts, but when she responds with, not anymore, we start to relax a bit. Sometimes a couple is separated and not living together and the aggressive party simply flees when the other person calls the police. We assume it was that kind of situation and ask if there's any chance that the husband might return soon.

She informs us that she's pretty sure that he won't come back, in her exact words. As a result, we become obviously more at ease and accept her offer to come inside for something to drink. Now, obviously we decline anything that she offers, but we take a seat on the couch and begin asking the standard questions. Has he hit her before? Does she feel her life is in danger? Where could he have gone? And throughout the entire interaction, something that truly surprised me was how happy and carefree the woman appeared to be. I assumed it was a sort of bravery in the face of this adversity. Some women and girls aren't in any condition to answer questions following

a violent incident involving a boyfriend or spouse. Sometimes they're too frightened to speak. Other times they're emotionally or physically unable. However, sometimes, when they finally summon the courage to end their suffering, it's as if a tremendous burden has been lifted off them. And instead of fear or sadness or regret, they experienced peace. Now once again, I assumed that that's what we were dealing with, and she answered our questions calmly and to the best of her ability. Yeah, he had hit her before. No, she didn't feel like she

was in danger. But when it came to where he might have gone, her reply immediately struck me as odd. All of her answers had been direct and to the point, and when asked where she thought her husband was now, she replied, oh, I don't know. I don't think it's for me to say. I remember how my partner was writing something when she said it, and how he suddenly froze, mid-word, to look back up at her. Now, we might have been uniform back then but we weren't naive and we weren't inexperienced. So when the woman's answers suddenly became evasive and indirect we knew to pursue that line of questioning until there was nothing left.

Not doing so could mean missing out on some crucial investigative detail. We asked her to explain what she meant by her last answer and then repeated the original question and asked her to tell us exactly where her husband was. She just sighed, took a sip of her iced tea and then pointed to the ceiling. We then asked her to confirm that her husband was upstairs and she nodded. We asked if he was hiding, and if he was armed. She shook her head and told us, he's in the bathtub. We went upstairs,

pushed open the doors to the bathroom, and there was the husband, or at least, what was left of him anyway. A double barrel shotgun was leading against the tub, and what remained of the husband's head and shoulders were dripping off one of the walls. One detail I'll never forget is how a section of the husband's face was lying there on the tiles, looking up at us. It wasn't much, just a chunk of cheek with half a nostril still attached. But there it was, reminding me that at the end of the day, we're all just bags

of raw meat and bone. When we walked back into the TV room downstairs, the woman told us that we didn't have to worry. She knew that she was going to spend the rest of her life in prison, or had at least accepted it was a possibility, and was prepared to come quietly before offering a full confession. She asked if she could finish the last of her iced tea and when I told her I couldn't allow her to do that, she did it anyway before saying and I swear on my child's eyes, what are you going to do officer? Arrest me? I can laugh looking back on it but at the time I was too stunned to do anything but stare at her as she held out her wrists for the handcuffs.

In the week or so afterward, I was 99% sure that she was headed to prison for the rest of her life, and I didn't have the whole backstory, and neither was I an attorney. And that last part may indicate that my explanation may not be as clear as that of a lawyer, but you can research these details yourself to resolve any uncertainties. I'm sure that, considering your familiarity with true crime material, you're acquainted with the battered wife defense and how it has led to abused wives receiving no prison time if their defense can prove they suffered from battered spouse syndrome. Well, all the attorneys representing this woman had to do was refer to the previous emergency calls that they had made over the years, both in Florida and Alabama, resulting in their sentences being

completely overturned by the court of appeals. And by completely overturned, I mean their convictions were erased and they were compensated for their time that they served. The husband's criminal record was so severe that the state compensated this woman for the inconvenience of being arrested, and from what I heard, it's remarkable that she even survived long enough to kill him. I heard she went to live with distant relatives once everything was resolved. Individuals she hadn't communicated with in years. I hope she's doing well and was able to spend the rest of her life in peace, surrounded by people who genuinely loved her. Having been compelled to take a life myself, I understand the weight that it carries.

You ponder whether you could have acted differently or whether God will comprehend it. But in her case, I get the feeling that she was able to sleep like a baby. After all, hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. For almost two years of my life, I worked undercover in the Pacific Northwest. My job was to infiltrate a ring of narco-traffickers who were bringing in heroin and medical-grade methamphetamine from Southeast Asia. They had a whole network of shipping routes that were lubricated with bribes, supposedly facilitated by the Burmese military, but that was none of my concern. My job was to siphon off information from their stateside operations with a view to bringing them down completely. The first phase of the operation involved choking off their finances, so intercepting shipments and hitting bag men, that kind of thing. Putting pressure on an organization like that makes them nervous, and nervous people make mistakes.

But experienced drug traffickers also recognize when the cop seems to be getting a little too lucky in apprehending their employees, and they soon begin to smell a rat. This is the part that makes my job extremely difficult and extremely stressful. In that kind of environment, an undercover officer is subject to purity test after purity test, and given that we're often a new member of a crew, we're put under an intense amount of scrutiny. But the good news is, if you keep your cool and play your character, there's almost no way for a person to work out who you really are. I understand that in undercover work, things happen and in the past, people have been absolutely on their guard and still been pegged as a rat.

But for me, I always thought of it as algebra. A little X plus a little Y and I got to go home that day. Don't think about it, just stick to the formula. As things got more and more intense within the organization, the bosses turned to more and more extreme measures to root out informants. One time, they told a bunch of the guys that big meats were going down at different times and in different places. I had no idea that it was a trap. Passed the information on to my handlers and they sent a small surveillance team to stake out the location. By some miracle,

one of the guys ends up getting picked up on an old warrant, but the bosses got it into their heads that the arrest was all just a cover. The arrestee didn't make it out of the county jail alive. And that took some heat off of me for a while and the operation cooled off for a little bit to give the impression that the rat had been found. But then slowly but surely the work ramped up again and with it, so did the risks. The top enforcer of the crew I'd infiltrated was a guy who called himself Rip. And everyone was terrified of Rip. He was frightening enough at the best of times. It was usually him who was charged with tying up loose ends and making problems disappear,

but since he had been tasked with sniffing out the rat, he and the bosses had become incredibly paranoid. All sorts of people started turning up dead in various places. Some individuals were taken to a trailer in the middle of nowhere for what Rip referred to as a background check. They would vanish for a few days and then reappear with blank eyes, sporting bruises or bandages. Rip and his crew would essentially torture people if they were unsatisfied with the answers to their questions, hoping to uncover the rat that way. I was terrified of being chosen so I tried to maintain my best behavior. However, in the end I was singled out due to being new

and I was driven out to the trailer to meet Rip. The TV and dining area of the trailer looked as ordinary as ever but when I was led into the other room I realized that it had undergone a drastic transformation. What used to be a bedroom had become a fully equipped torture chamber, and I was its next victim. The only comforting thought that I had was that if I could endure this, I might require hospital treatment, but I wouldn't be killed. Surviving this latest round of purity tests would greatly benefit me within the organization. Before any questions were asked, I was instructed to sit in a chair positioned in

the center of the room. As I complied, one of Rip's men removed my shirt, tied my wrists and ankles, and then poured a bottle of water over my head. Initially, I had no idea what was happening, but as I blinked the water out of my eyes and saw the taser in Rip's hand, I realized their intentions. The sickest part was that they zapped me with the taser a few times, the water amplifying the shocks just to test my resilience. The questioning hadn't even begun, and they were torturing me for their own amusement. Reflecting on it now, I believe their aim was to make me believe that whatever was to come would be far worse than the warm-up

they had subjected me to. I kept waiting for them to start asking questions, but they didn't. Instead, Rip approached me, pulled out a photograph from his jacket pocket, and showed it to me. It was a picture of my mom. That kind of terror is more akin to a physical sensation, and it was something I didn't have to pretend. I had become so accustomed to talking my way out of situations, but seeing that photograph left me stunned into a terrified silence. Rip informed me that they had the ability to locate anyone. If I admitted to being the rat, they promised me a quick death, ensuring my mom's safety. However, if I continued to lie, they would show me a video of her torture and murder before subjecting me to the same fate. What else could I do? If I told them the truth, I knew they'd kill

her too. It was all just a trick to get me to fess up. Hell, they probably already knew it was me, hence why they'd gone to all the trouble of tracking down my family. I had to continue the lie. I had to stick to my formula. So I did. I lied, lied and I lied some more. I tried to totally derail the conversation by claiming I hadn't talked to her in years and that I'd pay him to tell me where she was. I put everything I had into that little speech, throwing in a little about not being the goddamn rat but mostly focusing on pouring all my raw emotion into my completely improvised mommy issues tale. And it worked. Rip said that when they found the rat, he'd tell me where they'd found her. But for the time being, I was to remember what they could do to her if they found

out it was me funneling info to the cops. After that, they let me go, and my handlers had to talk me down from wanting to call it quits on the entire operation. They promised that they'd move my mom into temporary protection and that I'd be safe to continue the work at hand. I didn't do another goddamn thing until I had spoken to her and had her bitching down the phone to me about the crappy motel my handlers had her staying in. And that was about a year into the operation. And then six months later, it was all over. But in that time, I had nightmares of watching my own mom's snuff video almost every single night.

Once the operation was concluded and about 60% of the organization was looking at long-term sentences, I got access to the entire case file. And that's how I discovered that I wasn't the only insider helping to bring the whole thing down. The FBI had a confidential informant inside the organization and although the reports didn't name the CI, based on reports, I think I have a pretty good idea who it was. The CI was apparently high up in the organization's security apparatus and had been integral in the group's effort to rid itself of informants. The very same person, passing highly sensitive information to the cops, had been charged with finding himself. It was a genius level 40 chess move from the FBI, and it resulted in almost

everyone in the group being either suspected or accused, all except one. The guy everyone was afraid of. Rip. I think the FBI had access to my file, got themselves a picture of my mom, then gave it to Rip to boost his own authenticity, as well as my credibility. They knew I'd get my mom to safety, and that their CI wouldn't make good on his threats if he wanted to avoid a jail cell. Speaking of which, of the handful of ground-level guys that managed to escape the mass arrest that marked the op's conclusion, Guess who was among them? That's right. Rip. I knew it was pointless to accuse them of any malfeasance. They would just deny that Rip was their CI and deny providing any photographs to their man inside. Cross-agency cooperation is bad enough at the best of times,

let alone when you're flinging around some pretty serious accusations. In the end, I had two choices. Accuse the FBI and potentially ruin my career or shut my mouth, soak up the glory, and keep moving my career forward to the point where no one could pull that kind of crap on me again. Now I work financial crimes in Tacoma and had my own task force for a while too. Both cushy jobs I earned from putting my ass on the line over and over again for guys who saw me as little more than a pawn in a grand game of chess. You go into policing with this idea that you're going to make a difference, but given long enough, you realize you're just an extra in a movie that goes on and on and on

until there's no one left to watch it anymore. Born on March 26th, 1946, Jared John Schaefer had a nomadic childhood that took his family to Tennessee, Georgia, and eventually Florida. The frequent relocations led to what some called a troubled and turbulent upbringing, which was exacerbated by his father's abuse and alcoholism. To escape his father's sour moods, Jared spent many hours exploring the woods and parklands surrounding his childhood home. As a result, he developed a keen interest in the natural world, hunting squirrels with an old red Ryder BB gun and learning to fish in a nearby creek. Unlike other boys his age, he preferred to do these activities alone. Classmates recalled Jared as something of a loner who dreamed of becoming a National Park Ranger one day. His outdoor interests continued into his teenage years, but during this time, Jared also

developed some significantly less wholesome interests. While walking back from one of his solo fishing trips, Jared turned down a trail that ran behind a row of neighborhood houses. It was a summer evening, and although the sun had not quite set, the local residents were preparing for bed. Jared began spying through their bedroom windows. One unfortunate woman unknowingly gave Jared quite a show and, from then on, sneaking around outside homes occupied by women became one of his favorite nocturnal activities. On one occasion, Jared is believed to have stolen a woman's underwear, which was hanging up to dry in her backyard. He did so as a kind of memento, but when he arrived home with them, he felt a deep compulsion to wear them.

It was a feeling unlike anything he had ever known. Not only had he stolen one of her most intimate belongings, but wearing them felt like he had also stolen a piece of her as well. Throughout his high school years, several of Jared's female classmates began to regard him with odious superstition. Barbara Krolik, a girl from his class, later recalled that she couldn't remember Jared having any friends and that she felt compelled to tuck her skirt between her legs whenever she shared a class with him. He would practically stand on his head to look up a girl's skirt, she reportedly said. It seems that Jared was already teetering on the verge of criminal depravity, but the scorn with which he was treated pushed him deeper into his darker half.

He began developing intricate fantasies involving bondage and sadomasochism. There was once an account of him tying himself to a tree in a remote location while wearing women's clothing. Yet surprisingly during this time, Jared somehow managed to maintain the facade of a quiet but promising athlete. He was a member of the varsity football team during his second and third years of high school and developed a reputation as something of a golfing wonder kid around the courses of the Florida Keys. To those who knew him superficially, Jared was talented but quiet. Yet as we all knew, it's the quiet ones you really have to worry about. Martha Fogg was one of the few people to really get a sense of who Jared really was.

The couple met while they were students at Florida Atlantic University in Boca Raton, where they both joined a campus singing group known as Sing Out 66. They dated on and off for around two years, and then, after marrying in December of 1968, they moved into a small rented property in Fort Lauderdale. The first few months should have marked the couple's proverbial honeymoon period, but instead, their relationship slowly disintegrated. Jared was incessant in his demands for marital relations, but would reject any request for quality time in favor of long, solitary hunting trips.

Feeling more and more emotionally neglected, Martha filed for divorce on May 2nd, 1970, citing extreme cruelty as her reason for doing so. Although there doesn't appear to be any formal accusation of physical abuse, it wouldn't be entirely outrageous to assume it was taking place. At the time the divorce took place, Jared had been attempting to establish a career as a teacher, yet it seemed to be a role that he was entirely unsuited to. He was fired from his first job for refusing to accept advice from his superiors,

as well as continuously imposing his own political opinions upon his students. This led to numerous complaints from concerned parents, and shortly afterward, Jared was fired. Four months later, he successfully applied for a teaching internship at Stranahan High School and began teaching geography there in April of 1970. His performance was said to be poor at best and dire at worst, with co-workers noting an obnoxious arrogance despite a very limited knowledge of his subject. Less than two months later, he was fired a second time, and before he could find another teaching position, his wife hit him with divorce papers. The one-two punch of the divorce and sudden unemployment left Jared feeling lost. He spent a considerable period of time touring Europe and North Africa, and although it's not clear what he did during

that time, he returned with a singular vision. On September 1st, 1970, Jared applied for a vacancy at the Wilton Manors Police Department in Florida's Broward County. He lied by omission on his application, neglecting the mention that he had been fired not once, but twice from positions of public service. The following year, he was officially inducted into the Broward County Police and graduated as a patrolman at the end of the year, at the age of just 25. Shortly after becoming a police officer, Jared married 19-year-old Teresa Dean. While their marriage was far from harmonious, it was considerably less volatile than his first. Then, in March of 1972, Jared earned a commendation from his superiors for his

courageous conduct during a raid on a drug house. However, his general performance was incredibly poor and, despite his valor during the drug raid a drug house. However, his general performance was incredibly poor and despite his valor during the drug raid being indisputable, Jared developed a nasty reputation for something else. It became evident that Jared liked to perform traffic stops on exclusively female drivers and rumors circulated that he was abusing his position of power to obtain sensitive personal information from them. A brief investigation confirmed his unprofessional behavior, supported by a complaint from a member of the public who claimed a police officer had harassed her following a traffic stop.

Jared never admitted to it, but his superiors refused to give him the benefit of the doubt, and he was soon forced to resign. Having obtained a letter of recommendation from Wilton Manners, Jared quickly found another deputy's position in Martin County in June of 1972. His employers only saw it fit to check for a criminal record and didn't bother to verify his employment history or the authenticity of his letter. As a result, Jared became a fully-fledged police officer and was able to exercise all the power that came with the badge. On the afternoon of July 1st, 1972, Jared was patrolling in his cruiser when he discovered two teenage hitchhikers named Nancy Trotter and Paula Wells. He decided to give the girls a ride,

and after learning that they were headed for Jensen Beach the following morning, he offered to be their chauffeur. The two girls accepted what appeared to be a selfless act of kindness, and they met Jared at the East Ocean Boulevard bandstand at 9.15 a.m. When he arrived, he was not wearing his uniform and was driving his own personal vehicle. However, he somehow managed to convince Nancy and Paula that he was still on official police duty. The two girls climbed into his car and off they went. However, not long into the drive, Jared proposed a brief detour to show them an old Spanish fort near Hutchinson Island. It was still relatively early in the morning and Jared had been kind enough to offer them an old Spanish Ford near Hutchinson Island. It was still relatively early in the morning

and Jared had been kind enough to offer them a ride. So 18-year-old Nancy and 17-year-old Paula took him up on the offer. However, they would soon live to regret their decision. Later, the girls stated as they approached Hutchinson Island, Jared began saying some incredibly ominous things. He warned them to be more cautious about accepting rides from strangers in the future, as girls their age were known to be sold to shadowy human trafficking networks specializing in exploiting lobotomized servant girls. Shortly afterward, they stopped the car, pulled over to

the side of the road, and took the girls captive. Promising to shoot them if they resisted, Jared gagged and handcuffed each girl before marching them into nearby woods. He tied one of the girls to a large cypress tree not far from the Indian River, then proceeded to secure her legs to the trunk just below her knees. He then fastened a noose around her neck and tied it to a nearby branch, forcing her to stand on her tiptoes to relieve the pressure from the noose. Jared then forced the other victim deeper into the woods, restraining her in a similar manner to her companion.

Both girls later revealed that after tying them up, Jared took pleasure in informing them that they were to be tortured, violated, and killed. Their salvation came in the form of an incident that seemed like divine intervention. Suddenly, Jared's radio came to life. He had been carrying it to solely appear legitimate, but just as he was about to carry out his terrible scheme, the radio burst into life and the county sheriff himself addressed Jared by name. There had been an emergency at the department requiring all reserve officers to report to the sheriff's office immediately. The girls later recounted Jared's words, I gotta go, but don't try to run away, cause I'll be back in just a minute.

Fortunately, Jared did not return anytime soon. In fact, the emergency kept him away from his captives for more than two hours, granting the two girls ample time to attempt an escape. Upon Jared's return, he discovered the two girls missing and made a shocking decision. He contacted his county sheriff, Robert Crowder, admitting, I've done something very foolish. You'll be mad at me. He then provided the sheriff with a heavily edited version of events, claiming that he had tried to teach the two girls a lesson about the dangers of hitchhiking, but had taken it too far. Sheriff Crowder, along with Lieutenant Melvin Waldron, drove down Florida State Road A1A, where they found a desperate, partially gagged teenage girl wading through a shallow stream not far from the roadside. She had been doing so to avoid detection by passing

drivers, but unfortunately, Sheriff Crowder reached her before Jared did. It was 18-year-old Nancy Trotter, and she was out of her mind with fright. After the girls recounted their story to the horrified county sheriff, Jared was arrested. He once again claimed that the kidnappings were well-intentioned, but the girls' testimony had been damning. One girl claimed to have escaped by writhing against her restraints while balancing upon some exposed tree roots, knowing all too well that if she slipped, she would be hanged. Crowder was disgusted and terminated Jared's employment

before false imprisonment and aggravated assault charges were even filed. Two weeks later, Jared somehow gathered up the $15,000 bail that he needed to post and returned to his second wife and nearby steward. His friends and family believed that he was innocent as only his first wife had seen his true face. They believed Jared would plead not guilty, fight in his corner, and then move on from the incident no matter what the outcome. The reality was that he had only just begun. On September 27th, 1972, Jared came across 17-year-old Carol Place and her friend, 16-year-old Georgia Jessup. The two girls recognized Jared from an adult education center in Fort Lauderdale and accepted his invitation to hang out when he pulled his car over to greet them. That same afternoon, Carol's

mother arrived home to find that her daughter had invited a strange man into her home. Jared introduced himself as Jerry and tried to reassure her that his intentions were pure, but nevertheless, Carol's mom made a note of the license plate number on his 1969 Datsun, just in case. Carol, Georgia, and Jared departed the house at approximately 8.45pm, with Carol promising to return in just a little while. Four days later, there was still no word from her. Carol's mother reported her daughter missing to the Oakland Park police, and in addition to providing them with a physical description of him, Lucille Place gave them Jared's license plate number. However, when the police ran a check on the plate number,

they found that it belonged to a man in St. Petersburg who had no connection to Jared or the missing girls. It had all been a ruse. Jared had changed the plates on his Datsun to essentially take it off the grid. It wasn't just a car anymore. It was a butcher's wagon. And the confusion it caused had law enforcement scratching their heads in bewilderment. Later that year, in December of 1972, Jared appeared in court in relation to the abduction of Nancy Trotter and Paula Wells. With the court completely unaware that a killer was in their midst,

Jared was able to plead guilty to just one charge of aggravated assault, for which he received a sentence of one year in jail with the possibility of parole after six months. The presiding judge told him, it is beyond the court's imagination to conceive of what an astronomic jackass you were in this case. Upon leaving court on December 22nd, Schaefer told reporters, I made a stupid mistake, but no one was hurt. I'm sorry. Please forgive me. To many, he seemed like a good man who had made a terrible mistake and was willing to face up to the consequences of his actions.

But internally, Jared was delighted, believing he had quite literally gotten away with murder. Just over two months after Jared began his year-long jail sentence, Lucille Place conducted a thorough search of her missing daughter's bedroom. It was then that she found a letter stuffed under her bed, a letter signed by one Jerry Shepard. Jared had been foolish enough to write his actual address in the top corner and after contacting the building's manager, Lucille Place discovered Jerry's true identity and how the man who had reassured her of his good intentions had actually been sent to jail for abduction and attempted murder.

When questioned, Jared denied having ever met Lucille, but she soon positively ID'd him using a photograph from his days as a Wilton Manors deputy sheriff, and the hunt was on. But before Jared could be re-arrested, a grisly discovery was made. On the afternoon of April 1st, 1973, a father and son were searching for discarded aluminum cans in Oak Hammock Park near Florida's Port St. Lucie. It was here they discovered a large hole that had been dug amongst some trees, and lying in it, barely concealed by a layer of dirt and fallen leaves, were the remains of two teenage girls. One of the victims wore the remnants of blue jeans emblazoned with a circular emblem of the Roadrunner, while the other was completely naked. Both bodies had been horribly set upon by local wildlife, and large sections of their corpses were either consumed or infested with insects. It was later discovered that the spinal cords of both girls were severed in the regions of their necks and their lower backs, with the

paralysis probably a means of more easily controlling them. Both had been decapitated, with each of their jawbones having sustained numerous fractures, most likely as a result of the sustained beating. Deep scratch marks were visible on the base of a tree near the shallow grave. This indicated that one or both victims had been suspended from this tree long enough to have a pronounced impression. But what's more, the initials Gs g j have been carved into the bark initials which no doubt stood for the first portion of the name jared john schaefer

the bodies of the girls were taken to the dade county medical examiner for identification and four days later dental records confirmed that the bodies belonged to Susan Place and Georgia Jessup. When Jared, who was incarcerated, was informed about the discovery of the bodies, he immediately requested the services of an attorney and refused to engage with prison officials further until one was present. Subsequently, police officers raided Jared's mother's home in an attempt to find any evidence linking him to the murders. What the officers found was horrifying. Under Jared's bed, they discovered a cardboard box containing several handwritten journals.

These journals amounted to over 300 pages of depraved and lurid fiction, many of which included despicable illustrations of absolute obscenity. The dating of the journals allowed the police to determine that they had been written over the course of several years and that they shared common themes including kidnappings, violation, and eventually execution by hanging. While Jared consistently portrayed himself as the main character in these stories, he often referred to his female characters using misogynistic slurs. In one particular story, he forced his victims to drink beer with a noose around their necks so that he could observe them urinate before their hanging.

Another story described how he would return to the shallow graves of his victims in the weeks and months following their murders. Upon arrival, he would use a shovel to exhume their bodies, extract teeth from their decomposing skulls, and commit terrible acts upon their bodies. Upon analyzing the specific entry, the police realized that it was not merely a fictional story. It was a factual recollection of Jared's return to the shallow graves of Susan Place and Georgia Jessup.

During the search of his mother's house, the police also discovered numerous firearms, hunting knives, and adult BDSM material, all of which apparently belonged to Jared. Additionally, they recovered 37 black and white Polaroid pictures showing women being hung and mutilated. Several other photographs depicted Schaefer dressed in female garments, simulating his own hanging from a tree, with fecal matter smeared across his buttocks. Officers also stumbled upon a handwritten letter addressed to Jared from a man in the Australian state of Victoria. The two men seemed to have met during the summer of 1970 when Jared was traveling through North Africa.

The letter was written in a cryptic fashion and despite its length, it didn't provide much information. However, the envelope containing the letters also contained several photographs, each depicting the aftermath of a massacre that had occurred in a small village near the Sahara Desert. The bodies of both Spanish soldiers and Arab civilians had been horrifically mutilated before and after their deaths. Although the circumstances surrounding the slaughter were unclear, Jared's Australian friends seemed to treat the location as a tourist attraction.

The final, and perhaps the most damning, item recovered from Doris Schaefer's house was a small golden jewelry box. Upon opening it, officers discovered passports, small items of clothing, and jewelry belonging to a variety of different women and girls. Some, such as a locket inscribed with the initials MTN, were never linked to any missing or murdered individuals. Yet one piece, inscribed with the name Lee, was found to have once belonged to Lee Hainline Bonadiz, who had been a neighbor of Schaefer's when both were teenagers and had been missing since September 1969. Police also discovered a driver's license belonging to Barbara Ann Wilcox and a passport belonging to Colette Marie Goodenough, both of whom had been reported missing in January of 1973. On top of that, pieces of teeth and bone belonging to at least 18 different victims

were discovered hidden around the property, meaning Jared's overall kill count was much higher than expected. On May 18th, 1973, Jared Schaefer was formally charged with first-degree murder and transferred to the Florida State Hospital. Dr. Benjamin R. Ogburn conducted his psychiatric evaluation, with one section of his report reading, There has been evidence of considerable paranoid feelings, hostility, and anger, which erupts with little stress. It is noted that past examiners have also seen this patient as representing a character disorder. In addition, there appears to be a very active fantasy life. He is considered to be a very

dangerous person both to himself and others. Dr. Ogburn went on to characterize Jared as someone who viewed himself as an eliminator of women he deemed immoral. And although he was clearly dangerously psychotic, he was still mentally fit to stand trial. The trial began on September 17, 1973, and since the Supreme Court of Florida had recently declared capital punishment as unconstitutional, prosecutors sought life imprisonment instead. Incredibly, despite the mammoth amount of evidence against him, Jared pled not guilty to all charges and seemed to regard the court proceedings with a kind of arrogant disdain. On the first day of the trial, Susan Place's parents also took the stand

to formally identify Jared as the man whom they had seen their daughter with prior to her disappearance. Another witness testified that the lack of erosion of the grave indicated the grave had been dug into at least twice, confirming that Jared had indeed returned to further desecrate his victim's lifeless bodies. Nancy Trotter and Paula Wells also took the stand to tell the story of their own near-miss with Jared. Their testimony was followed by a video reenactment of their ordeal. Shockingly, the footage was then co-opted by Jared and his defense team to illustrate how he had inflicted no harm upon the girls. Also introduced into evidence were the actual tree roots

upon which Susan Place and Georgia Jessup had been forced to balance themselves, while a micro-analyst testified that the clothing fibers discovered at the scene were a precise match to one of the items owned by Susan Place. At the conclusion of the trial, the jury took five hours to pronounce Jared guilty on two counts of first-degree murder. When asked if he had anything to say prior to sentencing, Jared insisted that he was innocent of the crimes. He then requested to be sent to a psychiatric hospital as opposed to an actual penitentiary. Lucille Place, Susan's mother, had once supported the death penalty for her daughter's killer, but had had a change of heart upon learning that it was

off the table. At first, I thought I'd like to see him dead, she told journalists, but I think people suffer more with confinement. Death is the easy way out, just as long as he's never on the streets again. In the years following his lifelong imprisonment, Jared publicly claimed that he had been framed by what he referred to as overzealous prosecutors. He also frequently described his victims as promiscuous heroin users and blamed their parents for their deaths as a kind of final insult to the people whose children he had stolen away. Considering Jared's outrageous arrogance, it might be unsurprising that he was found stabbed to death on the floor of his cell on the morning of December 3, 1995. He had been stabbed over 40 times on the face, head, neck, and body, with his throat also being slashed, his right eye destroyed, and several ribs fractured. It is said that a 32-year-old fellow inmate named Vincent Rivera had killed Jared following an argument over a cup of hot water. But in truth, Jared was most

likely targeted due to being an ex-police officer, as well as rumors that he was a jailhouse snitch. Upon learning of his death, the mother of Georgia Jessup declared it a case of long-overdue justice. I've always believed that he was going to get this. I just wish that it had been sooner rather than later, she said. He's finally gotten the death sentence he ultimately deserved, but couldn't be given. In the aftermath of Jared's murder, his former sheriff, Robert Crowder, who had helped free his two escaped captives, released a statement to the media. In the aftermath of Jared's murder, his former sheriff, Robert Crowder, who had helped free his two escaped captives, released a statement to the media.

The victims are not the only ones affected by this case, he said. The families of the victims, as well as the men in law enforcement who work these cases, none of these people will ever be the same again. Wedding season is always a lucrative time of year for me. I work for some fancy reception hall that hosts weddings pretty much every Friday and Saturday from May until October. Some events are fun and others are horrible. Since the company is small and family owned, they try and do everything themselves. When it was becoming too much, they hired me. I'm basically a glorified handyman.

I help set up the weddings, help assist with wiring, and most importantly, I'm the guy who stays late and cleans everything up. Especially on Friday nights, since Saturday another wedding will be taking place right after. I always like weddings that are small and quiet because then I'm not spending hours cleaning up the place since those folks tend to be a bit more reserved. But in the story I'm about to tell you, it was the exact opposite. It was a gigantic wedding. Hundreds of people were there and we were at max capacity. As the night progressed, I could see the people getting more and more drunk and rambunctious. I was trying to clean and pick up in the background while everyone was dancing and having a good time, but there was only so much cleanup work that I can do with a building full of people.

I decided to take a long break and just rest my eyes for a bit while the wedding was still going on. I woke up 45 minutes later and then I noticed the time. The wedding would end in about 20 minutes or so and I could get going on my cleanup work. I grabbed my headphones and made my way from the parking lot to the building. As I made the long walk up the hill, I was disgusted right away. Outside it looked like a music festival had just come through. There was trash and empty bottles everywhere. I even saw a girl lying on the grass, snoring.

I went inside and the band was still playing and the inside was just as bad as the outside. Tables and chairs had been flipped over, bottles and cans were everywhere and even plates and napkins were just littered all over the floor. I was kind of angry. My bosses, the couple that owned the place, came up to me before the end of the wedding and apologized and told me that if I did a good job tonight, they would pay me extra, and I could take next Friday off. Now I was mad, but it seemed like a fair trade-off. It took forever, but they finally started to empty out the place.

Thankfully, they hired a bus to transport them wherever they were going, because these people were in no position to drive. They only had two small party buses, so they would have to make two trips to pick up everyone. I was trying to pick up the tables and chairs, but because some people were still left behind waiting, they were throwing things and just being inconsiderate people. An hour and a half after the official ending time of the wedding, everyone was finally gone and my bosses went home for the evening. And this is the time of the night that I don't mind. Being alone with my headphones working is peaceful for me, and since I knew that I was going to be there a long time picking up after this party, I needed this peaceful time to just kind

of wind down. I started outside and went from side to side, picking up trash and fixing all the patio furniture. That took a while and then I went inside and started on the inside. It started to get cold outside so I shut the door and continued my work. A while later my wireless headphones died and I figured that I would just use the speaker from my phone since nobody was around anyway. When I placed the phone on one of the tables, I noticed something strange. The door to the venue was wide open and I distinctly remember shutting it. I went over and shouted into the air to see if anyone was there and of course I heard nothing back. It was kind of windy out so I didn't think

that it was that outlandish of an idea that maybe the wind had knocked it open since I didn't lock it. It had never happened before but it doesn't mean it was impossible. I made some trips back and forth from the main hall to the kitchen. I was just about done for the night and I noticed that the door was open again. Now I felt uncomfortable and figured maybe the owner was around and I was just being stupid and didn't realize it. I called out the owner's name several times but I heard nothing back. I'm not an easily spooked guy so my rational brain was telling me that everything was fine and I just need to finish up, lock the door and just be out.

So that's exactly what I did. Once I finished, I locked the door and started walking to my car. When I was only about 30 or 40 feet away from the building, I saw the reflection of the light shine off the glass. I stopped on a dime because I knew I had turned the lights off. I turned around and saw the lights were shining brightly through the windows. I ran back, unlocked the door, and standing in the middle of the room was a man. He had suit pants on and a white buttoned up shirt with his tie loosened. Strangely he wasn't wearing any shoes or socks though. I could clearly see right away that this guy just wasn't right. His eyes appeared to be half open and even though he wasn't moving he was sort of swaying back and forth.

I asked if he was okay and in a mumbling but angry sounding voice he said, where's my jacket? I want my jacket. Clearly this man had too much to drink and seemed to be left behind. I tried to be civil and tell the guy to just relax and I'll help him out. I put my head down for a second to call the owner and at that moment that I had my head down I heard his bare feet running hard on the ground. I looked up and he was running in the opposite direction of where I was standing. He ran into the kitchen, still screaming about his jacket. I called the owner and told him what was happening and he said that he would be right down since he only lived about 100 yards away. And while I was talking to the owner on the phone,

I described this man so the owner could try and contact someone from the wedding. He called the best man since we had his contact information as well as the bride and groom, and thankfully he was still awake. My boss told him about the guy and described his appearance. The best man said he didn't recognize the description of the person at the wedding, but since there were so many people, he said it might be possible that he was still there, left behind. While I was waiting for my boss to come back to the venue, I decided to go into the kitchen and try to communicate with this guy. I turned the lights on, and I heard the scampering of the bare feet again on the ground. I turned in the direction of the noise,

and lunging at me with a steak knife was the man. In that brief moment I was able to block that swing and just crawl out of the kitchen and slam the door. This all happened in, I would say, only a matter of seconds. My heart was racing, and this man began to beat on the door, and all I could do was just sit there and try and hold it shut. At that moment, my boss walked in, and I immediately screamed for him and begged to call the police, as I was stuttering my way through what was happening as I held the door shut. The man in the kitchen was screaming, beating the door, scraping the knife against it.

He wasn't saying anything really of substance other than an occasional mention of his jacket. Thank Christ, the police finally showed up and apprehended this man who seemed confused as to why he was being arrested, and the wedding party was contacted the next day and, to our horror, apparently, they didn't recognize this guy. He wasn't at the wedding. When they had finally got the pictures developed and scoured through every photo, they didn't find any pictures of this man except for one photo. One picture toward the end of the night showed a group of guys and girls smoking cigars around a small bonfire outside, and in

the background, you can see the guy walking up the hill toward the venue. It was blurry, but it was very clearly that guy. We still have no idea where this man came from and what his ultimate intentions were, and from what I was told by my boss, he may have been some crazy person, but that's all we know, or maybe even just some drunk who was trying to crash a wedding for some free booze. But ever since that night, I don't wear my headphones so I can hear my surroundings, and I always lock the outcast of my family. My brother became a lawyer, and my cousins all became doctors, nurses, and even college professors. And then there's me.

I dropped out of film school during my second year, and I make my living bartending. Due to the nature of my job, I do meet a nice number of questionable individuals, but they're all mostly harmless. One night early in the summer a few years back, I went to my parents' house for dinner, and the entire family was there. It quickly turned into the Let's Lecture Shannon show. They played all the classic hits like Why Can't You Be More Like Your Brother? When Are You Going to Find Someone to Settle Down With? You Do Know Your Childbearing years don't last forever. Oh, you know, just what every child wants to hear from their parents at a family get-together. I was pretty annoyed, and it showed when I got to work that evening. I was venting to a co-worker when a nice-looking man whom I didn't recognize as a regular spoke up.

He said in this sort of deep, rugged tone, It just sounds like your parents don't get you. I can tell by looking at you, you're a free spirit. You play by your own rules, and I think that's why you give off this unique energy. Yeah, believe it or not, that stupid line worked on me for some reason. Or maybe it was because this guy was really good looking, I don't know. I continued the conversation with him for a while and we ended up talking all night. I closed the bar and we went back to my place for the night and had a few more drinks. I was actually really into this guy and I just met him. When we woke up in the morning, he made me scramble eggs and suggested something crazy. He said with confidence and in that deep sexy voice, hey, what's a lope? I know that's

crazy, but Vegas is only three hours away, and then you can tell your parents that you met a guy, and now you're married. This guy knew exactly what chords to hit with me. I knew in my stomach this was a horrible idea since I didn't know this guy at all, but I wasn't thinking that way at the time. I was thinking about getting back in my parents, and to me, it was just marriage, like people get divorced all the time if it doesn't work out. And so I agreed, and I called into work for my night shift. Right after breakfast, we got into the car and started our trip to Vegas. It was crazy, but I was excited about this. We talked about getting married and what we wanted to do and things like that. And we were about an hour away from Vegas when I realized that he didn't tell me anything about himself. Where he was from, where he was

living, even his last name, I didn't know. That pit in my stomach was growing bigger and bigger the closer we got to Vegas. I asked him what his last name was and he just smiled and said, We will find out soon. Don't you worry about that. I still don't know why I was going along with it at this point. I think the idea of throwing this in my parents' face was still my driving force though. We weren't far from Vegas when I noticed that he got off the highway at some random exit that I didn't even recognize. I told him that we needed to stay longer and he said, no, this is a shortcut, a special place I know about. It's cheaper and it's nice. I know the

girl who runs it. I didn't say anything because I didn't know what to say. I didn't know anything about Vegas, but I was pretty sure there wasn't a secret side entrance into an actual city. I mean, maybe there was, I didn't know. Wherever we were now looked like the middle of the desert. There was hardly anything on the road and it looked like a scene from Mad Max. I started to grill him with questions like what he did for a living, how did he know this place and if he was sure that he was making the right decision.

He seemed to be dismissive and he just kept saying stuff like, hey, I love you baby, I know there's a connection, trust me, there's a reason the universe brought us together. Finally, I started coming to my senses, started to sober up as they say, and I was worried it was too late. It was becoming quite clear that this dude was up to something. I told him that I really needed to use the restroom and that it was an emergency. He said that I needed to wait until we got there, but I basically begged him to stop, which he finally did. I went into the bathroom and I called my mom. I apologized for what I was doing and I told her that I didn't feel safe. She didn't judge me or beat me down.

She just told me to turn on my phone location and try to stay where I was as long as I could and she could head to my location. She told me that if things really did start going south, text her one single letter and she'll know to alert the police. I got back into the car and he could tell something was off. He started demanding that I tell him what was wrong and I just stuck to my story and told him that I was fine and was just tired. I told him that I would be excited once we finally arrived at the wedding chapel. Another 45 minutes of driving we eventually pulled up to what looked like an old garage or something. I'd look confused and ask

why we were there. He told me some wild story about how this place was like this secret location to get married, like a speakeasy but for elopers. It sounds insane as I write it but this deep into the situation, this guy had such a way with his words that a chunk of me honestly still wanted to believe him. I got out and stood and glanced at my surroundings. There was literally nothing in sight other than just desert. I asked if Vegas was close and he said it's like five miles away. He told me to head inside and that he would be inside in a minute. He wanted to grab a suit out of the trunk. I walked slowly to the door of the garage and I

looked back at him, digging through the trunk. I noticed that he had a duffel bag that was too small for a suit, and before I went inside the garage I heard a noise coming from the other side of the door. There was a small window next to the door and I looked through the window before opening the door. Crouched over, with a hood, was some person right behind the door. I looked back at my lovely groom to be and he was still digging for something. I decided to text my mom one letter as she suggested and I ran to the back of the building and hid behind some barrels. Now from my vantage point I was able to see him make his way to the door and he kept looking in both directions. When he opened the door I heard them speaking but I couldn't really tell what they were saying. Seconds later he ran outside and started to nervously yell my name. Whoever

the other guy was said that they needed to leave right now, and I see them both run to his gray car and drive off, leaving nothing but a dust cloud. I stayed right put where I was for a little over an hour, until eventually two police cars showed up and I gave them a report of what had happened. We waited for my parents, who gave me a big hug when they arrived, and I told the police everything I knew and what type of car I thought it was. I didn't really pay attention to that for some reason. I knew it was a grey four-door car and I think it was maybe a Ford and I gave the description of the guy, told him everywhere that we had gone and hoped that maybe a camera would pick us up, but unfortunately, these guys

were never caught. I didn't work at that bar much longer and started working for my brother shortly after. Whenever I see a gray car slow down anywhere near me, my heart still stops. I don't know exactly what was going to happen to me, but I'm so grateful I finally came to my senses when I did, because if I had walked into that garage, I may not be sitting here writing this story today. To be continued... from high school got married and I was surprised to see that I was invited to the wedding. Not because we had a falling out or anything like that, because we just haven't talked since we graduated from high school and that was almost 12 years ago. At first I wasn't going to go, but then I realized how many of my old friends I would see and I got myself excited. This was a great chance for me to reconnect with my old friends and see some faces that I hadn't seen for a long time.

He did send me a plus one, but I RSVP'd solo because my girlfriend was going to be out of town that weekend for work. I was bummed about going to the wedding solo since I knew all my friends were going to bring their significant others, but I was determined to enjoy myself either way. A few days before, one of my friends from high school texted me and said that he couldn't wait to see me. We had a small conversation about classic times and now I was even more excited about the wedding. Until he said one small detail. Right before wrapping up our text conversation, he said, It's gonna be crazy seeing everyone. Even Laura is going. I still can't believe you guys broke up. I was pretty stunned by that text.

I couldn't understand why on earth Laura would be invited. I asked my friend why and he said that Laura worked with the bride and they had become close over the last couple of years. And that changed everything. You see, Laura was my ex-girlfriend. We dated from about 8th grade until our junior year of college. Everybody thought that we were going to get married, and at one point, that wasn't the cards. Life always finds a way to throw you a curveball, though, and due to way too many reasons to list, we ended things. In the beginning,

the breakup was amicable, and we decided to go our separate ways. But then things got ugly, like really ugly. Laura began stalking me and even harassing women that I would go on dates with. Believe it or not, the law ended up getting involved and that was the last time that I had seen or heard from Laura and that was over five years ago. Saturday arrived and I was anxious. I joked with myself in the car that I was more anxious than the bride and groom. I tried telling myself that we were in our 30s now and surely Laura had moved on. I figured that I would just avoid her, stick close to all my friends and just focus on having a good time. I walked into this beautiful church where the

wedding was about to start. I found a bunch of friends sitting in the back and I joined them. I scanned the church and on the other side near the middle, I saw Laura sitting there with a couple of girls I didn't recognize. I was hoping that Laura would be with a date, but it didn't look like she was with anyone. The ceremony commenced and after they were officially married, everyone departed down the aisle and behind the new couple. When I got outside, I hugged and congratulated my buddy and started walking to my car to drive to the reception. Now before opening my door, I heard a familiar voice from behind my shoulder. Hey there stranger.

And I knew right away who was greeting me. I turned around and with a friendly and civil smile I said, Hey, Laura. How are you? She smiled and in this reserved kind of voice she says, You know, I'm doing good. I'm happy you're here because I wanted to apologize for everything and tell you that I'm proud of everything that you've accomplished.

I realized all the hell that I caused you in the end and that was horrible. I hope you can forgive me one day and who knows, maybe we can be friends. That caught me so off guard that I didn't even respond right away. I just stared at her for a moment and then finally said, Of course I forgive you and and I like to be friends. Yeah, yeah, we'll catch up at the reception. I'd love to know what you're up to these days. She smiled and then we went our separate ways. I felt a great weight lifted off my shoulders as I made the 20 minute drive to the reception. The party was a blast at first.

Great food, an open bar and some fun dancing. And just as I had expected, I was having a blast with my old friends from school and we started talking like we hadn't missed a beat. I noticed that Laura tried to approach me a few times but every time she did, I was in the middle of another conversation or being pulled in another direction to talk to someone else. Around nine that night I finally got over to her to chat. She was sitting at a table alone drinking a glass of wine. The first thing I noticed about her conversation was that she was a little off. She seemed to be in a worse mood than she was earlier but I continued to talk with her either way. We talked about work, life, where we were living these days and our love lives. Not any specific detail but just the cliff note version. I told her that I had been with my girlfriend for two years and that we were doing good. She told me that she basically had a string

of dead-end relationships and was taking some time off from dating. I told her that there isn't anything wrong with that and just cried to keep speaking with some optimism. The conversation continued for a while and I felt good about it. She seemed happy when I finally left the table. We hugged and I told her that it was great catching up. I even suggested that maybe we grab a coffee sometime soon and stay in touch. She seemed into the idea and I was happy to see her like this. This Laura was completely different from the last one I saw and it truly did make me happy. When everything was over, we all went to a local bar to continue the night. The bar was about a block away from the reception.

I would say maybe 15 people went to the bar and Laura was not included. We seemed to party for a while and most of the people were staying at the hotel next door. I was still sober so I was driving home. Now around 2 I started walking back to my car which was parked at the place the reception was at. When I got to my car I noticed that the driver's side door wasn't closed all the way. This wasn't like me at all, but I considered that it may be possible that I didn't shut it all the way since so much was going on. Before I opened the door, I looked inside the vehicle through the windows and everything appeared to be in order, so I got in and started driving home.

There wasn't a lot of traffic on the road, but a few cars. It wasn't until I was turning on my street that I noticed a car had been following me at some distance. Now I pulled into the driveway and was relieved when the car behind me drove past. I couldn't explain why, but I was just feeling extra jumpy. It was probably because of that slightly open car door. I was getting ready for bed and lounging on the couch going through emails and text messages from the evening that I missed. I heard a car door shut and it sounded very close to my house. All of my neighbors are extremely old so I found this pretty strange to say the least. I finished going through my messages,

shut the lights off and walked to the stairs to go to the bedroom. I finished going through my messages, shut the lights off, and walked to the stairs to go to the bedroom. The stairs are right in front of the front door, and as I was passing the door, I noticed that the handle was beginning to turn. The door was locked, so whoever was trying to open it couldn't get in. I was immediately terrified, but I knew that I needed to do something, and quick. And then I saw the deadbolt lock turning. Whoever was there had a key to my front door. I heard the click of the lock, and the knob started to turn again. As the door opened, I immediately rammed my shoulder into it, slamming it shut, and I heard someone shriek outside. I looked through the window, and I saw the back of a blonde-haired woman running back to this blue SUV parked on the road.

The woman got into the vehicle and just peeled off. I immediately called the police, telling them everything that happened, but they just seemed so unresponsive. They said because I didn't get a good look at their face that they were very reluctant, but they ended up going to Laura's house and when she answered the door, she claimed that she had been sleeping for a couple of hours. Basically, nothing was done and my suspicions were proven wrong. I decided to change the locks the next day and I picked up one of those ring cameras from my door. It was nuts. It really, really was. And it's been two weeks and nothing has happened since, but I just don't feel safe.

I know how Laura used to be and if she tried to break into my house, I can't even imagine what she had planned. If anything ever happens again, or I have another confrontation with her, I will be sure to update this story, but until then, I just hope that I'm safe throughout the night. This is a quick little story that happened to my husband and me three years ago when we were married. We're both unconventional people who like to do things out of the norm. We both have strange jobs, strange hobbies, and very strange personalities. It's what I was attracted to initially when I met Jake. I felt like they didn't make people like him and me, and when we found each other, we didn't want to let go. Okay, that's enough with the sappy stuff. So after two years of dating, we knew that we wanted to get married and start a family. Jake popped the question and of course I said yes. Since we both had small families, we thought it was a good idea to have a small

ceremony and keep the budget tight since weddings cost an ungodly amount of money. My family was okay with this, but Jake's family was a little skeptical of what we meant by a smaller, unconventional wedding. Specifically, Jake's mom, who was very religious. I know she practices some form of Christianity, but I'm not sure which denomination. I'm sorry if this is offensive. I don't mean it to be. I wasn't raised religiously, so I don't really understand the differences. Now during the entire planning stages of the wedding his mom just kept pushing for the pastor or preacher or whatever he was called to be a part of the wedding. I was against it 100% and so was Jake.

His mom didn't love the idea of my gay best friend Paul being the one who marries us. She didn't say it outright but it was written all over her face. A few weeks before the wedding, Jake and I went to his parents' house for dinner. We expected a nice quiet evening with maybe some pasta dinner or something, and his family was also very persistent that after dinner we have coffee and dessert. Right before his dad brought out the coffee, the doorbell rang. Jake's mom excitedly ran to the door and we could hear her bubbly voice greeting and talking to someone. I had no idea who that someone was, but I could tell from Jake's expression that it wasn't good. I whispered and asked who it was and he just quietly said, Just be cool. I'll handle this.

A million ideas were swirling through my head as to who it could be. Finally, they walked back into the dining room and his mom was grinning like the Joker or something. She was accompanied by a large man with a big red beard. He was bald only on top and the rest of his hair was just fire red. In this loud voice he said, Wow, Jake, look at you, bud. The last time I saw you, you were about five foot three. Now you're a giant. Then he just laughed at his own attempt of a joke like he had

just heard the funniest thing of all time. They all made small talk for a second and then finally Jake responds, this is my fiance Tabby. Tabby, this is Minister Mark. My eyes felt like they were going to explode as I shook the man's hand. I couldn't believe his parents did this. I didn't say anything though. They all continued to talk for a while and then things got ugly. They started on their mission for us to reconsider and get the minister to marry us in their church. Now Jake was livid and just kept telling them that we already had plans for the wedding and this wasn't going to happen.

He tried explaining that for budget reasons, among others, we wanted things to be small and untraditional. I saw the minister make a strange face and then asked what untraditional meant. I couldn't sit silently anymore, so I spoke up in an annoyed but pretty confident voice. I said, it means not traditional. I'm not wearing a white dress. I'm wearing a cute black wedding dress that I found cheap online. Jake's seen my wedding dress, and he'll also see me before the wedding. We don't believe any of those superstitions. We're not getting married in a church, and we're not

paying for some fancy banquet hall. We're having a quick ceremony in my parents' yard, invited some friends and family over, and we're going to party with the people that we love, because that is what a wedding's... that's what a wedding's about. At least for us. The room was quiet,

and the minister seemed to be red and angry in his face. Jake, being the voice of reason, interjected and rationally explained what I meant, even though I meant exactly what I said, and we spent the next half hour or so exchanging pleasantries, and then eventually we all left and went on our way. I was furious with his mom, but I understood how she was and I dealt with it. Now this is where people tell me I'm crazy and that this is unrelated, but I know what I saw. That night we were in bed and probably fell asleep not long before I heard a loud crash.

We both jumped out of bed and together we made our way down the hall and saw that the side door had been opened. Now it was a beautiful night so we knew that the wind couldn't have opened the door, and that wouldn't have explained the loud bang. We crept around the house and saw nothing. No evidence of a break-in other than the door, and we were starting to accept that maybe the door opening was just some fluke. Just as we were about to head back into the bedroom, I noticed Jake standing as still as a statue in the kitchen. I looked over, and he motioned for me to run back to the bedroom. I didn't, but I stood back. Jake grabbed one of his golf clubs that were right by the side door and started to tiptoe towards the door. There was a moment of silence and then heavy footsteps ran up from

the basement. We both screamed and Jake froze for a moment. The shock of seeing a person run from your basement would probably paralyze you in that moment also. The heavy steps ran directly towards the side door where a large man with a baseball cap was unlocking it. Jake finally snapped back and swung his club like a baseball bat. The person grunted and the hat fell off as the man ran out into the night. I looked out the window and I swear I saw a ring of red hair as the man ran up the street. I told Jake who I thought it was, but he didn't believe me, claiming that there was no way he was capable of something like that. He did admit that the body type looked like Mark, but he didn't believe me, claiming that there was no way he was capable of something like that.

He did admit that the body type looked like Mark, but he didn't think that hair was actually red, although he did say that he didn't get a great look. Now we reported this incident and apparently the cops checked out the minister and his story checked out. But I know what I saw, and the more I thought about it, the more convinced I became that it was that minister. I don't know what he intended by breaking in. Maybe it was to scare us into coming to church, I don't know. But I was furious for weeks. Since my parents had a big house, I begged Jake to stay there with me for a few days until this passed. We eventually got married the way we intended and his parents

never brought up the minister or anything after that. We never saw the minister again and never had another break-in and we're still in that same house. Maybe it was just some random break-in and my brain chose to see what it wanted to see but I know deep down that I saw that red hair running away. The reason I'm just now sharing this story three years later is that out of the blue my husband said, you know, maybe I did see red hair that night. Maybe it was Minister Mark. This July will mark the sixth wedding anniversary of my husband and I. I just want to say for the record that I am incredibly happy and that was the best decision I had ever made in my life. Now that I said that,

I will say that we almost didn't make it to our wedding day because of a poor choice made by my then fiancé. Anybody who has ever gotten married knows that it's an obnoxious amount of planning. Even weddings on a smaller scale can cost a lot of obnoxious amount of planning. Even weddings on a smaller scale can cost a lot of money and take months of planning. I was stressed out in my mind trying to plan this wedding and I told my fiance to just worry about the photographer and I'll take care of everything else. I think it's also worth saying that I wanted it that way. I love him to death but if it was up to him we would have tacos and nothing but 80s music at the wedding. That may sound like a fun party, but I'm sorry, not for our wedding.

I gave him a list of great photographers that I've seen online or recommended to me by my co-workers and friends. All he had to do was pick one that he liked from our budget and everything else would be taken care of. One night, he came home from work excited, like he just won the lottery. He told me that he was talking to a co-worker and this man suggested that he use someone that he knows to be the photographer. He was well under our budget and shot weddings before. I didn't love the idea because I didn't get to see any portfolios or anything like that so I didn't even know if this guy had a camera. My fiancé assured me that he saw his work and that he did a good job.

The only reason he wasn't listed anywhere online is because it was his side job and he was just trying to make money and hopefully turn it into a career. I was instantly sketched out by the idea but I trusted him. My husband, then fiancé, had a great and horrible quality that allows him to see the good in people. I wasn't thrilled, but it was done, and I guess the positive was that we were saving a lot of money. Not far from the wedding, I still hadn't met the guy and I wasn't happy. I was starting to get anxious that this guy might not show up or something. I begged my fiancé to set up a meeting so that I could meet the guy. We met at the park where we were going to get married, and the guy was strange, and I know that sounds mean, but he just gave off that vibe.

He had gross, dirty, and long fingernails. He was missing some teeth in the front, and I would guess that he was at least 40 years old. Based on the way my fiancé described him, I was picturing a young guy, not some grizzled older guy. He didn't say much and just kind of nodded along with what I was saying. I felt uncomfortable because it seemed like he was staring at me strangely. I tried to tell myself that I was just imagining it because his appearance was a little off, but I couldn't shake that feeling. He ended the meeting by showing me some pictures that he had taken for his portfolio. I expected to see some wedding

photos, but they were weird. Some strange artsy photos of things like decay and dead animals and even buildings on fire. Finally, he showed me some wedding photos at the end, and admittedly, they were beautiful shots, which put me a little bit at ease. Now about a month away from the wedding, my girls and I went to Ocean City, Maryland for the bachelorette party. We rented a beautiful condo on the ocean, and we planned on spending the days on the beach and the nights partying in town. It was an amazing time until late Saturday afternoon. While we were on the beach, one of my friends said that she could see some creepy guy seemingly taking pictures in our direction. The guy was standing outside the building, facing us. There was a lot of distance and beach between the man and us, so I just assumed that he was taking pictures of the ocean.

My friend couldn't relax though. She finally got up and said that she was going to confront this guy, just for peace of mind. She and another friend walked all the way over to the man and I could see them talking. After a couple of nods, the man walked away and my friends walked back to us. She said that he was just taking pictures of the ocean and he even showed them. He apologized for freaking them out and said that he would walk further down and take pictures there. I smiled and gloated to my friends for a minute telling them that I had told them so.

And it wasn't until we were walking back that my one friend said something that really freaked me out. She said, That photographer guy was creepy though. Ew, and did you see his fingernails? It was disgusting. And right away, I thought about our photographer for the wedding. I told myself that it was just a coincidence, but the feeling in my gut was not a coincidence. That night, we went to one of the local bars,

and every time I saw someone take a picture, I felt my adrenaline kick in. I was freaked out and the longer the night went on, the more freaked out that I became. I told the girls that I wanted to go back to the condo and when we got back, we decided to make some drinks there and just talk. Around 1am, we heard a knock on the back door. We all looked at each other kind of in disbelief and thought, there's no way someone's knocking at this time, right? We weren't that loud. As a group we all huddled around the door and when we opened it, nobody was there. We thought that either some kids were playing some joke on us or we were all just going nuts.

We decided to go to bed not long after that moment. Now maybe 30 or 40 minutes later, I heard one of my friends scream. She had been sleeping on the couch since we were one bedroom short. When we all ran into the living room, there was some guy just standing there with a camera. I was stunned at what I was seeing. It was my wedding photographer, just standing there, and through all the chaos chaos he just kept saying, I just figured you guys want some pictures. I'm only trying to take pictures, so just relax. One of my friends grabbed a knife from the kitchen and started to chase this man out of the condo.

We immediately called the authorities and explained everything to them. The following day we returned home and I angrily recounted the incident to my fiancé. And while I understand it was not his fault and he couldn't have known, I was upset with him at that moment. The local police were informed and before long, the man responsible was apprehended. His excuse that he was merely attempting to take our pictures and didn't intend to frighten us or break in didn't hold up. Fortunately, we managed to find another photographer in time for the wedding, and I quickly realized that my fiancé wasn't to blame. My advice to young couples planning weddings is to always ensure that you're familiar with the individuals you hire because sometimes trying to save money can turn out to be the worst decision of your life. A couple of years ago, I finally got married to my longtime girlfriend. We had been dating for two years and then engaged for another four years.

We both figured it was wise to finish school and establish our careers before tying the knot. Thankfully our wedding was beautiful but it was almost ruined at the last second and I would be lying if I told you that there wasn't a small dark cloud looming over that day. First off, in order to protect my family, but mostly my wife's family, I'm going to refrain from using any real names in this story, as the family involved has already dealt with enough stuff, and I don't want to have anybody else getting involved in their business. When we first started dating, I met her cousin, named Mike. And this dude was wild, plain and simple. I enjoyed going out occasionally with Mike because he was what I would call a wild card.

He was loud, funny, and didn't care about what he said out loud. When he was around, you knew that you were in for something crazy. The older I got, the more tired I became of Mike's antics. He seemed to be perpetually stuck in that early 20s mode, and it was becoming increasingly hard to have him around. Around the time we got engaged, we rarely saw Mike. If it wasn't a family party, we didn't see him. We would constantly hear stories from his girlfriend's parents that he was always in some kind of legal trouble. It wasn't your typical criminal stuff though. Mike thought that he was doing what society failed to do. Those were his words, by the way.

He would break in and rob extremely wealthy businesses and homes. He went as far as to jump employees of well-off businesses because he assumed every single employee must be corrupt. It was disheartening to witness someone I used to enjoy so much just evolve into this person. Now fast forward to the engagement party that we shared together, Mike came and at first it was nice catching up with him. He had recently been released from a short jail sentence and he seemed to be getting some things in his life in order. At the party, I introduced Mike to my best man, Nick. We all chatted for a while about sports, movies, and life and then Nick mentioned that he was a cop.

The expression on Mike's face instantly changed. In front of the entire party, Mike went crazy and went on an insane rant about how the police are corrupt and that Nick should run prison for the heinous actions of all cops. Now needless to say, Mike was removed from the party. After that outburst, we all caught our breath, had a little laugh, and went back to having a good time. Nick is one of those cops who truly cares about justice and not babysitting, as he puts it. He dislikes giving tickets for trivial things and tends to let people go with warnings. He actually moved from another state that he was living in because the state laws were so strict that he found it hard to separate justice from regulation.

Unfortunately for Mike, he viewed every single cop as a horrible and crooked person. Not long after the party, my friends and I went away for the weekend for my bachelor party. It wasn't one of those wild parties that you see in movies. We went to a cabin in the woods, not far from a small town. We went out to eat in town and then visited one of the local dive bars for a couple of drinks. And after the brief outing, we went back to the camp to hang out and play video games all night like we were 12 again. It was my bachelor party and that's what I wanted to do. And sometime in the middle of the night, maybe at around 12 or 1,

a few of my friends said that the motion light out back had turned on. I ran to the sliding door and looked outside and at first I saw nothing. And then I noticed two wet footprints right outside the back door. Now, initially I laughed. I was thinking that one of the guys were playing some sort of prank on me since I was an avid horror fan. Everybody denied any involvement, creating a little bit of a tension, and we all went outside to investigate. Nick led us around the cabin.

There was a trail of wet footprints that went from the deck to the grass. Once in the grass, we couldn't see which way they went, which was very unnerving. We reported the incident, but as you can imagine, nothing came of it since we really had nothing to go on other than wet footprints. We decided to stay and stick it out in the cabin. Every little gust of wind or creak in the house made us jump. I will say that I felt safe with my friends, but it didn't make it any less unnerving. Around 5am I was in the living room, still wide awake. I happened to glance over at the sliding door and saw someone peering in through the window. I screamed to alert everyone in the

living room, but by the time they woke up, all they saw was the person running into the woods and that was the last straw for us and we packed everything up and left. We alerted the cops and the property owner of the situation. At the moment this was really unfortunate but once we got back home it became a wild story that we all kind of got to share with each other and for that reason, I guess it was memorable. We assumed at the time that it was some crazy person who lived in the town and that they were just trying to scare us. The night before the wedding, we all got together for the rehearsal dinner. After dinner, a few of us gathered for some drinks and since I had a few drinks, Nick was going to drive me home.

While we were driving home, we noticed a car following extremely close with its high beams on. Nick tried to maneuver away from the car, but they followed every move he made. At this point, he realized that whoever that was, they were messing with us. Nick called one of his buddies who was on duty and told him what was going on. He was only about five minutes away. I'm not sure why Nick decided to do what he did next, but he pulled over, and the car behind us pulled over as well. Nick stayed in the car and told me to do the same. Then a person emerged from the car parked behind us and made its way over to our car. He seemed to be wearing a mask and when he reached the driver's side window,

he then demanded that Nick get out. I was terrified and hoped that Nick's buddy would show up soon. He tried to reason with this masked man and the man wasn't having any of it. He started banging on the locked door with some type of object. I was terrified of what that object might be and I just wanted this whole ordeal to end. The masked man broke the window, shattering the glass inside, and started to grab at Nick, trying to drag him out of the car. I think this is what Nick wanted though. As soon as the man started to reach into the car to grab Nick, Nick kicked open the door, knocking the masked man over. Nick kicked his hand and whatever he was holding in his hand went flying.

He was able to restrain the masked man on the ground and I saw him screaming and squirming on the ground but Nick kept him detained until his buddy showed up a minute or two later. The police officer quickly detained him and I felt like getting sick as he walked by the car with handcuffs and the mask removed. You see, it was my soon to be wife's cousin. After taking care of all the legal stuff that night, I went home and told her everything that had happened. She was incredibly embarrassed and just thankful that I was okay. Apparently, her cousin came clean and admitted that he didn't like Nick solely because he was a cop. He was quoted as saying, I wanted to teach him a lesson. Cops need to be punished and I was going to do my family a favor and spare them from this monster. Luckily the family was spared from the only monster around you see. It was a bleak night

and a dark morning but once the wedding commenced the dark clouds seemed, you see. It was a bleak night and a dark morning, but once the wedding commenced, the dark clouds seemed to go away and we had a great wedding. It's crazy to me that monsters aren't always strangers in the shadows, but sometimes they're our very own blood. Once you're engaged, a wedding has a lot of prerequisites. To name a few, wedding bands, venues, food, dresses, suits, guest lists, rehearsal dinners, and bachelor and bachelorette parties. Preparing for all of this is one of the most exciting and stressful times of your life. But for me in particular, it was made a lot easier with the support of family and friends. Everything had gone easy thus far. We picked our wedding venue after the second tour.

The venue had a florist, DJ, and food and bakery services all lined up so that we didn't have to look outside for any of that if we didn't want to. I think we used most of their services and maybe only went outside for the flowers or the DJ. Honestly, I can't remember. The wedding date was rapidly approaching and my friends and I decided to take a trip to a small beach town on the east coast for a low-key bachelor party. The plan was to mostly hang out, cook on the grill, spend a lot of time at the beach and maybe visit some local breweries or bars at night. We rented a house on the beach for two nights and everyone pitched in to grab food, drinks, and other supplies. It was a perfect getaway and an opportunity to hang out with all of my friends

who had since moved to different parts of the country after high school and college. On the first night, we decided to go out to a club. It was a place a few of the guys had been to before and came highly recommended. They featured a mixture of live music and DJs throughout the night and I'm not the biggest drinker so clubs and bars aren't usually my scene but this place made it easy to grab a drink and just enjoy the music. Before I knew it we were taking shots and having an absolute blast. About an hour before closing I was hanging around the bar with a few of my buddies. They were still grabbing drinks, but I had to cut myself off. I walked over to see if they could grab me some water while they were getting their drinks, and I froze for a second.

I swore that directly on the other side of the bar was my ex, whom I'll call Jess for this story. The person turned away quickly, so I couldn't really tell for sure. I bumped into my buddy Brad and said, hey, is that Jess over there? And he looked over in that direction, threw his arms up and took a sip of his drink. Now for some context, Jess and I had a very difficult breakup that led to some harassment. I hadn't seen her or even thought about her in over seven years, but I shook it off pretty quickly, figuring that it was the alcohol playing with my eyes. The next morning, a couple of my buddies and I got up and took a walk around town and down to the beach. I always feel better after getting up and getting some fresh air after drinking. When we got back to the house, there was a six six pack of beer and a letter attached to the front door. I had Joe open

the letter and see what it was and it read, I hope you had the best time. You deserve it. He flipped the note around and it had what looked like a lipstick kiss on it and I asked if this was a joke and he said, if it is, I don't know anything about it. I went inside and pulled my best man aside saying, hey do you know anything about this? Is Joe playing another one of his tricks on me? My best friend assured me that he had no idea about any of it and that no one besides me and the two other guys had even gone outside that morning. I told him that I thought I saw Jess at the bar the night before. I wasn't sure, but this note was now officially starting to freak me out.

Knowing I'm always a super anxious person, he told me to relax and not to worry about it, and that he would ask around to see if it was one of the guys. The rest of the trip went off without a hitch, and we had a blast. We had an absolutely fantastic wedding, and I couldn't have asked for a better day. Now, about three to four months after my wedding, I was catching up with my best man, who was himself preparing to get married the following summer. We started talking about his plans and what he was thinking for a bachelor party. He then quickly switched the conversation and said, hey, I need to tell you something, but you promise you won't be mad? And I replied, yeah, sure, I won't be mad. I figured that he was going to tell me that he had chosen someone else as his best man, which wouldn't have made me mad, you know. And he says,

remember your bachelor party when we got that letter, the one with a six pack of beer? Not kind of concerned, I said, yeah, was that you? He took a breath and said, no, it wasn't. But if you remember, when everyone left for the beach to go grab one of the volleyball spots, I stayed back to hang out and shower and just grab some breakfast. Well, when I was getting ready to head down to the beach and meet everyone, I went outside and Jess was outside the house, looking like she was trying to get into one of the windows. I felt my heart beating,

and I screamed, what, at the top of my lungs. His head was down, and he continued, yeah, she was trying to get into the house or something, and when I yelled, she stormed over to me, demanding to know where you were, and that she needed to talk to you. She went on this entire rant about how no one else deserved to be with you, and that she thought you two should still be together. She looked like she was out of her mind, man. Her eyes were wide, hair all over the place. It honestly looked like she hadn't slept in a week. I don't remember everything she was shouting, but I basically told her that if she didn't leave, I was calling the cops. And I told her in not so nice a way to never ever come

around you or your fiance again. I was floored. I didn't even know what to say. I think the first thing out of my mouth was thank you and I'm sorry you had to deal with that. And that's how I felt. I was so thankful for a friend who not only handled the situation but also waited until after my wedding to tell me that. I was so nervous and anxious that another incident would occur and I now live in a different state from where my wife and I got married, and I don't get to see friends and family as much, but we are very excited about the life we're building here. Being in a different state also gives me hope that I'll never run into her ever again.

So, this story took place when I was 12 years old. I'm a female, and it's more than half of my lifespan ago, but I still get really uneasy when thinking back to it. I try to block it from my mind and not guess as to what could have happened if not for two kind strangers. I was walking home from school one day, a four-kilometer walk along a busy road. I was walking home from school one day, four kilometer walk along a busy road. I was walking alone, however, and at one of the intersections I crossed, there was a tall, dirty-looking man that noticed me. I would guess his age was maybe early thirties. Now, being a kid back then, I struggled telling the age of adults, and he starts following me and trying to strike up a conversation. He kept telling me that I was beautiful and that he wants us to be friends. He asked me where I lived and if my parents would be home.

He asked me so many questions but I tried to just shrug him off and be polite. I didn't answer any of his questions, just increased the pace at which I walked. When we were nearing the block on which I lived, I started becoming really uneasy. He wanted to follow me home and I did not want him to. He gave off a weird vibe because adults don't usually speak to me that way. The only way that I could get rid of him would be to give him my cell phone number and agree to answer when he calls. Because the situation made me uncomfortable, I gave him a fake number and hightailed it out of there. A few months passed

without me running into that man again, so I completely put this out of my mind. He was probably just some random weirdo. However, as you can guess from here, things did not stay that way. One day, approximately four months later, I found myself walking home after school again. I will admit that I wasn't paying much attention to my surroundings. That was until I heard what sounded like footsteps running up behind me. I reflexively turned to look around and it was that same creepy man that I had encountered before. He slowed his pace as he reached me but yelling the entire time. He figured out that I had given him the wrong number and he was furious. He kept yelling and yelling that I think I'm better than him and that's why I gave him a fake

number. Now I was terrified in that moment as he was very angry. I was afraid that he was going to hurt me but couldn't grab the attention of any passing motorists. I sped walked to the closest petrol station, which is luckily not too far, with him following behind me, still yelling the entire time. When I got to the petrol station, I immediately got the attention of two burly men standing next to their pickup truck. They must have seen the terrified look on my face and the man following me as they immediately ran over to ask if I was alright. I was too scared to speak, just shook my head frantically as I tried to get behind them. They immediately demanded to know why the man was following me. He fed them some BS line about being my older brother and I just silently kept shaking my head. I guess they figured out what was happening at this point as they started

yelling at the man, accusing him of something. I didn't stay to find out. I took that opportunity of him being distracted to start running away. The man noticed that I was leaving and tried to take off after me. The burly men really took offense to this as they immediately tackled him and threw him in the back of their pickup. He was screaming at this point. They sped off with the guy at an inconceivable speed right past me and just kept going. I was happy that they took him away but I didn't stop running until I reached home. I had no idea what to make of this entire exchange but it really shook me to the core. I did not know where they took that creepy guy or what they did with him after.

In all honesty, I didn't want to know. I told my parents and altered the route that I walked home from school. I never saw him again and I'm thankful for that. Even though I couldn't say what I needed in that moment, those two kind strangers saw that I was in distress and dealt with it for me. Even after all these years, I still remember the sheer terror and then relief when they took him away. way. I never had the stranger danger talk with my parents and we lived in a small town where I liked and trusted everyone. Starting at the age of six, I was taught to commute by public transportation alone or with my younger brother.

I never thought that an adult would harm a child, except my grandma for some reason. To be young and being absolutely naive. Now when I was 11 I was walking alone at the beach when a middle-aged man approached me and asked to take a photo with me. I smiled and he snapped a photo with his little digital camera. He then asked me to take my shirt off saying that we were at the beach and I would look better in the photo without it. I actually thought it was an appropriate thing to ask and I obliged and smiled again for the photo. I didn't feel uncomfortable or scared. He tried to make conversation and ask what I like to do. I told him I like to play video games. He told me that he had a playstation in his room and invited me

over to play video games with him. If the sun wasn't almost down, I probably would have said yes, to be honest. Instead, I said that I had to go back to my family's room because it was getting late. He held my shoulder, urging me to come with him. I told him again that I couldn't go with him, and he just hugged me and said goodbye. I just thought it was weird in the moment, the hugging part and not everything else, because I was never really a physical touch kind of person and really like my personal space. But I just shrugged it off and never spoke about it anymore. Years later, during one of my deepest shower thoughts, I finally realized how messed up That was.

I work a graveyard shift as a security guard for a recycling yard. Can't say the company name for obvious reasons. I've been on the site for two weeks, this being the second. Basically every hour I make rounds across a giant recycling yard covered in various precious metals that are broken down and sold. During my shift I scan various checkpoints and ensure nobody besides me is in the yard or facility. One of my other tasks is to go through some grassy, bushy terrain and over a set of train tracks to take a photo of a warehouse far across. This is to ensure that it's safe and clear. I have to use a flashlight with 2k lumens so I can see my way

through pretty much the entire yard. Well just an hour and a half ago on my round I went through the grass and over the train tracks. I took the picture of the warehouse and submitted it and all of a sudden I get this intense feeling that I'm being watched. My hairs on my neck are standing up and I freeze. My flashlight is still on and pointing at the warehouse. I slowly turn around and point my flashlight behind me. I kid you not, about ten yards away I see a skinny, old, wrinkled, white man with a large white beard sitting on a chair. He was looking directly at me. He had dirty jean overalls and what I think was a western style cowboy fedora on. He was bearskin under the overalls. Now I'm 6 foot 220 pounds but I screamed out like a little girl

at a pitch that was very embarrassing. Accidentally I dropped my flashlight out of shock and mind you, there are thin tiny metal shards literally everywhere on the ground. I can't see a freaking thing now as the flashlight is facing away from my sight. All I hear is quick pacing and shuffling and clanging of metal from footsteps quickly running directly at me. Once the metal crunching footsteps are within maybe five feet of me, I hear them quickly veer to the left and past me. Within three to four seconds, the metal clanging is gone, followed by the faraway sound of rustling bushes. I then grab my flashlight from the ground and pointed it to the sound. The old man was gone, past the bushes to who knows where. I was shaking from adrenaline and fear, and I managed to catch my breath and called several emergency contacts. By the time they arrived, the old man was long gone.

I believe that he may have just been there to watch the train pass by. Considering the metal chair was facing the tracks, it's still there. I took a photo of it, more as a memento than anything else. Unfortunately, I can't share it in this group as photos aren't allowed and now I'm in the office. I'm still terrified and alone. I have to finish my shift tonight and then do another 11 hour graveyard shift tomorrow. I won't quit as I need the money, I just wanted to get this off my chest. To be continued... curled there and we also had common interests. We hit it off right away and exchanged numbers and pictures and everything seemed to be perfect. Almost too perfect. She was all over me, saying

stuff like, you are very gentleman-like. Which I am, but that's just for the ladies reading this post. But she was obsessed with me and I had never had a girl like that before. Even though she wasn't the best looking girl, she made me feel a certain type of way, you know. At some point, we wanted to meet on a Saturday afternoon and had a nice time. Eventually, we went to her place and had a great time. I tried to stay the night, but she didn't want me to. I thought maybe she had lost interest because of my poor performance, but I couldn't be bothered at that point. I went on with my day and left her house. However, she didn't lose interest. She asked me if I arrived home safely 30 minutes after I got home. We continued texting about life and stuff,

and nothing special happened. Until two weeks later. When I was done with my studies I wanted to see her again but something was different the way she wrote was without emojis and more direct when I messaged her she almost instantly replied which was kind of different because she always took her time and that's how I knew her but I was incredibly horny and didn't care that much it was almost like another person was behind her mobile phone. I didn't care and said that I would pick her up with my car at her house. But no, she said that I should meet her at a local park since she needed to fuel up her car anyway. The location we were supposed to meet was a local park,

but she wanted to meet when it was already kind of dark, which was kind of suspicious. But at that time, it didn't seem strange to me. I asked why we would meet there, and she told me to not ask any dumb questions and just be there on time. I just replied, lol, okay. When I arrived at the park and was waiting for her, she came ten minutes later, but I didn't care. I was just happy to see her again. She parked her car and I got this weird feeling. I knew something was terribly wrong but I couldn't pinpoint what. I checked the location, looked left and right to see if there

was something wrong. I even checked the bushes to make sure that no one was ambushing me. She didn't come out of her car for the next two to three minutes. I thought it was just stupid, an unfunny joke of hers like she sometimes did before. I couldn't see into her car because the windows were tinted, so I really couldn't see through the windows and stood about 20 to 30 meters away. I was waiting for her to come out of her car,

but she still didn't. I was smiling at her car, probably because of nervousness, and I thought that she was playing an unfunny joke on me like I said. And then suddenly, I got a call. I pulled out my mobile phone and saw her name, but at the time, I heard doors opening. Not just one door, but two or even more. The car was parked horizontally, so I couldn't see if there were more passengers who had opened the doors. But one thing I knew was that my body was instantly in fight or flight mode. I knew something was extremely wrong.

I ran for my life without even looking back to see who or what exited that car. After I managed to escape, I deleted and blocked her number. I believe to this day that she cheated on her boyfriend, and he somehow found out and wanted to beat me up or do even more serious harm. I heard all that stuff in the news about how people lash out because of cheating fiancés and wives, and I didn't want to be another statistic. I don't even believe that she was in the car. There were probably two or more guys who intended to do serious harm to me. I was kind of surprised at how fast it could run when I actually tried,

perhaps because of the adrenaline. But my god, what a feeling that was. I had a memory resurface recently, which I had to double check with my mom for reassurance and unfortunately she confirmed that it was true. It was triggered by someone on the street outside my job peeking inside through a very small window. They were harmless but the sight of their face suddenly reminded me of a long forgotten memory from the first house I'd lived in as a child. We moved out of this house when I was six years old. A fence was built around the time that I was old enough to start walking, but my parents were still always wary of letting me outside until we moved away. I used to resent it, but now I think I understand why. Apparently, we had a neighbor a few doors down who was a registered offender. He had been required to notify his neighbors via his social worker when

he moved in. He had a habit of doing odd, off-putting things around the neighborhood. He once sprinted across the street and left a human-sized dent in our neighbor's garage door. He also walked into another neighbor's back door, trembling, and asked to be held by her. She kicked him out and called the police when she discovered that he also had an erection. I found out a lot of this by researching his name after my mom confirmed my story.

I also found his Facebook page, which included a photo of him, sealing any doubt in my mind that I had imagined it. His face was as clear as day, the man I remember. The sight of him, even through a screen, immediately made me nauseous. My memory tells me that I was sitting in our living room watching TV when I felt someone watching me. It was the middle of the day, and I turned to look out our front windows to see a man with his face and hands pressed against the glass, the same man I saw on the Facebook page.

He was smiling at me with huge eyes and an even more alarmingly huge grin. I remember being scooped up in someone's arms and carried away into another room. My mom confirmed that it would have been my grandma who was babysitting me at the time. Let's just say, I'm glad we moved. I, a 17-year-old female, recently quit my job at a fast food chain after working there for almost 10 months. This story is part of the reason why I did not want to stay much longer. I worked the drive-thru from 5pm to 11pm almost every weekend. Seeing regulars was not uncommon for me and I would even memorize most of their orders and fill them out as soon as I heard their voices. Most were very polite and occasionally tipped. But on one particularly busy day, there was an unfamiliar, wary presence. I had just started my shift, so I was running food to the window. I made eye contact

with the man in his car at the window and immediately felt uneasy. I brushed it off because we were busy and I had work to do. Later, once my manager set up my cash drawer, I took over drive-thru orders and payments and all that. There were lots of orders, so I was not paying special attention to specific voices or menu choices, but one caught my attention. It was a low, hesitant voice asking for a sandwich. I gave the man the total and he waited in line. When he arrived at the window, it was the man from earlier. I assumed that he just got to order or something. Now, his car was pretty low to the ground, so he had to extend his arm out to hand me his debit card.

As he did this, he mumbled something under his breath without breaking eye contact with me. I'm sorry, what was that? I questioned. I said, you're looking beautiful today. At this point, I'm super uncomfortable. Not only do I have a boyfriend, but I'm also underage and not at all interested. Oh, uh, thank you, I said nervously. I handed him the bag of food and quickly shut the window until we drove away. I half-heartedly complained about him to some male co-workers, as we usually do with weird customers, but I still had a strange gut feeling. A little while later, when the average wait in our line was about ten minutes, I heard a familiar voice over the microphone, asking for a cup of water. It was low, but agitated and forceful. I saw his face through his windshield and walked away from

the window so my manager would take care of him. This happened a couple more times that day, asking for straws and just random other free things. At this point, I was sure that he was just trying to look at me. I was so frustrated with him and the rest of my work day that I went to the bathroom and just cried. I usually have pretty thick skin when it comes to this kind of stuff, but I was just so over it. The rest of the night went on, and I did not see him again. I thought I'd probably never see him again until my very last shift at the store a few months later. We weren't busy that evening, but it was much later in the day than the first encounter. I did not recognize the voice, but I immediately recognized his face and

car. I swallowed my pride and took his payment, trying not to make eye contact. I called my manager, and he said that he would give the food out for me. As suspected, the man was back in the drive-thru not long after, asking for a cup of water. This time, I knew better. I sent a male co-worker to the window to get it for him since I was busy anyway, and once given the water, the man asked my co-worker, you guys close at 11 now, right? I was so glad that I was getting picked up by my mom that night. I kept looking out the windows, making sure that he wasn't there waiting for me. Now, call me paranoid, but I've listened to enough true crime to be overly cautious. This happened only three weeks ago. I've thought about it often, and I know without a doubt,

me and my patient were almost prey to a predator. I work for my state. I work with people with substance abuse disorders, the mentally ill, and to a lesser degree, those with slight developmental delays. My role with the developmentally delayed is similar to a lower-ranked social worker. One thing I have to verify is that the participant is able to achieve their own personal goals set for that year, similar to an IEP in public schools.

One of my patients has a goal to walk and or hike at least one mile three times a week. When I made my visit to her home, walking and hiking was what I needed to see her achieve. So she took us both on a walking and slight hiking trail nearby. Her and I are actually similar ages, ours being 40. As we were walking the trail, we get to a point that was much more isolated. We were no longer walking the trail that loops around a neighborhood pond with many people, but we were on a trail that took us through the woods in a cotton field. Her and I were walking and talking when she suddenly stopped walking. I looked at her and just as she went to say, I have a bad feeling. I had an overwhelming feeling myself that someone was watching us.

Due to her development delays, I felt more concerned for her welfare than my own. It's hard to explain, but I didn't feel fear. I felt a feeling of protection for her. I looked behind us because I heard the sound of leaves crunching and sure enough, a guy who looked to be in his thirties is suddenly coming out of the woods and he's slowly creeping up towards us. There was no one else around so for this guy to magically come out of the woods and creeping up, I knew whatever he wanted was nefarious. I told her to continue walking and gave her a head start. I don't know why I even did this,

but I just completely turned myself around, stopped, and I looked straight at him. I just stared. I didn't say anything. He didn't say anything, but as soon as we locked eyes, it was as if he realized, now they know I'm back here, because he froze and stopped walking towards us. I kept staring at him and then I started to walk back towards my patient so he understood my eyes were on him. Then as I walked backwards, I looked over to see my patient, looked back at him, and he disappeared as fast as he came, back into the woods. If he had simply wanted to walk the nature trail, why did he stop as soon as I turned around and stared at him? Why didn't he just continue walking and pass us? It was evident to me that this guy was waiting and watching for a woman or women to come down the isolated trail. The fact that he emerged from the woods when he did made it clear that he had been hiding and

stalking. I will forever be convinced that my patient's bad feeling and my own feeling of being watched saved one or both of us from whatever that man had planned. I randomly recall this memory at times. I'm so glad my parents taught us not to trust strangers. I am more thankful for my sister actually listening. So back in the 90s, my two siblings and I were walking from our house towards our bus stop to go to school. For context, I was 7, my brother was eight, and my sister was almost eleven. It was a foggy morning and the walk was almost too quiet. We were the only ones in line of sight and we were a few streets away from the bus stop when a small white sedan pulls up

next to us, slowly matching our pace. We looked over slightly confused and curious as a white woman with long curly brown hair was in the driver's seat. She was staring at us intently. She was probably around 35 to 40 from the looks of her and this continued for a few seconds before she rolled down her window and said, hey kids, heading to school? She had this weird smile and eyes that looked like they were looking through us. We nodded as it was obvious with our backpacks. She coaxed us with a wave. "'Why don't you three hop in? I can take you all to school.'

I, of course, being seven and lazy, was all about a free ride. Sure, I said smiling, and my sister grabbed my arm tightly. So tightly that it actually hurt. No thanks, my sister said sternly. The woman's smile seemed to fade and reappear in a fraction of a second. Oh, it's fine, really. You don't have to walk. I can take you quickly. She said, trying to sound kind. And that's when I felt the hairs on my neck stand up. No, my sister said even more stern.

My brother looked scared and I was confused and alarmed at his facial expression. The woman then turned the wheel and pulled closer to the curb towards us. We all stopped in our tracks out of fear. Get in the car, she said as she stopped the car. Her smile vanished and was replaced by a toothy sneer. She was close enough that I could see her dark brown pits for eyes. I swear that she glared at us with just pure evil. And that was it. My sister picked me up and yelled at my brother to run. I don't know how, but she all of a sudden had Hulk-like strength.

She and my brother started sprinting as fast as they could down the sidewalk. I clutched my sister tightly, screaming. They almost fell twice in the process. And thankfully, the car never turned around. Instead it sped forward and turned down the street. They didn't stop running until we made it home. We locked the door and all were sobbing. My mom and father both were working so we couldn't contact them until they came home. We only had landlines back then and pagers were only for adults. And that's basically it. If it wasn't for my sister, I would have been kidnapped.

And who knows what could have happened. Case in point, teach your kids to never trust strangers. Apparently I didn't listen. I was living in a small college town in Pennsylvania with my mother and brother in a small one-story house located at the corner beside IUP. This was the 90s. My mother was not a good parent and had a habit of leaving us home alone from a very young age. One day, she was going to walk to the grocery store, which was about a 10-15 minute walk away. She asked me to go along, but I chose to stay home that day. I don't remember specifically why, but a few minutes after she left, I changed my mind. I looked out the window and saw her

standing with my little brother at the intersection. I ran to her and yelled, I want to go, I want to go. She told me to go grab a jacket. I ran home, grabbed a jacket, and when I returned to her and yelled, I want to go, I want to go. She told me to go grab a jacket. I ran home, grabbed a jacket, and when I returned to the intersection, my mom was gone. I figured that she had gotten impatient and left. In my peripheral vision, I saw a man. He was younger, maybe in his early twenties, wearing a black trench coat and spiked hair and he was on rollerblades. He started to come towards me and as a paranoid child I started running as fast as I could. At this point I heard his rollerblades behind me and he was catching up to me. I reached my house, ran in,

and locked the door behind me. I grabbed this metal pipe that had recently broken off something in the bathroom and hid under my bed. I heard knocking and eventually pounding at my front door. I was terrified. I thought, this is how I'm going to die. I just remember thinking that if I was going to die, I was going to die fighting. I was going to hit him as hard and as much as possible. The knocking eventually stopped, but my heart was still pounding. I waited for some time, I don't know how long, but it felt like forever.

Slowly, I crawled out from under my bed and as soon as I turned my head, he was there, at the window, looking right at me. I screamed and ran back under my bed, just waiting for my mom. Finally, she came home and I told her everything, but she didn't believe me, and that always bothered me. I'll always wonder what he wanted and what he would have done to me. About eight years ago, my girlfriends and I would download plenty of fish and meet random guys to take exploring with us. Definitely not the smartest, especially since we were out in the middle of nowhere, Pennsylvania. This one night we met a guy, we'll call him Todd.

Todd was an odd guy. He seemed socially distant and when he slid into the back of my SUV, I instantly got this feeling of regret. We were going to a place called Ronnie's Point, a very interesting place in West Virginia. You should look it up if you're into ghosts and haunted history. Todd wanted to stay in the car for a bit to scope out the area while us girls went ahead to explore. Red flag. I was so sure that he was going to try and actually steal my car. We went into the abandoned hospital and out of nowhere, here comes Todd around the corner. Scared us so bad and we let out a slight scream. Todd started making comments about how his great-grandfather was a security guard at the

asylum that's right next to the hospital and that his grandfather told him stories about how his great-grandfather was a security guard at the asylum that's right next to the hospital, and that his grandfather told him stories about how they would shoot at the sick individuals for fun. He laughed and said, how much fun would that be? We continued to explore, and Todd just hung out in the background. We eventually left, and Todd insisted on sitting behind me in the car. I needed gas, so I started driving to the nearest gas station. Maybe two minutes up the winding road I felt his slimy hands creep up and start massaging my shoulders as I'm driving. I kept leaning forward to give him the hint that

I was not interested. As he's massaging my shoulders he's telling my friends and I how stupid we are for inviting random strangers out into our car, how we never know who is getting in our car and how they might hurt us, etc. He started laughing again, and I'll never forget the tone of his voice or the grip of his hands on my shoulders as he said, Maybe that person's in the car with you right now. I pulled into the gas station and demanded that he get out of the car. He actually did, and I just left him there. We got back home, and my friend went on plenty of fish to block him, but he had already blocked her or deleted his account or something.

We never heard from him again, but we stopped inviting random people to urban explore with us and ghost hunt ever again. To be continued... He was a couple of weeks old and it was time for me to get an oil change and tire rotation for my car. Instead of sitting in the dealership waiting room for over an hour, I thought it would be a good opportunity to take a walk in an arboretum nearby. I had visited the arboretum several times before, but this time I noticed a sign for Patriot's Path. It was a paved trail that stretched 35 miles across the county. The trail was divided into segments due to the presence of roadways and neighborhoods.

I had explored other parts of the path before and never felt uncomfortable. In fact, it was a nice way to connect with nature while occasionally encountering other people who were exercising or just enjoying the outdoors. Without hesitation, I decided to walk along the path to pass the time. I was excited to explore this new section of the trail, and at first, the path cut through tall grasses, then it curved and gradually became more wooded. This didn't concern me, since all the other parts of the trail I had walked on were exclusively in the woods. As I pushed my newborn in a stroller and enjoyed my time in nature, I came across a fork in the path. The other parts of the trail I had been on

had always been a single path without any forks. The right path was on higher ground so I chose to take that route. However, as I progressed, the path became increasingly difficult for the stroller. Tree roots had broken through the path, making the ride rough for my baby. I couldn't maintain the previous pace, and since I was moving significantly slower, I checked my map app to see if it included this section of the path and where it would lead us. According to the map, the left side of the fork followed a waterway, and therefore I decided to take that route. As I turned around, I noticed a well-dressed man, strolling towards us at a slow pace. He had his phone up to his face as if though he were on a call, but he wasn't speaking. As we got closer, I looked at him to give a friendly nod, as I usually do when passing people on the path.

However, he just looked straight ahead, expressionless. While processing this interaction, my intuition told me something was off. He was dressed in what I would describe as business casual attire, whereas most people on the trails wore exercise clothes. He wasn't speaking on his phone, which he held up to his ear and his other hand seemed concealed. It remained rigidly positioned behind his phone, which he held up to his ear and his other hand seemed concealed. It remained rigidly positioned behind his back, as if though he were carrying something he didn't want me to see. I chose to take the other path of the fork and convince myself that I was imagining things. After walking for some time, I heard the sound of flowing water. According to my map app, I expected to see the waterway by now, with the path opening up to

a parking lot. I felt like I should have reached the parking lot already, and when I attempted to open my map again, I discovered that my phone wasn't working. I was now deep in the woods, alone with my baby, and without any phone access and after a strange encounter. It was time to turn around and leave the woods, I thought. But to my dismay, I encountered that man again. His expression remained unchanged, his phone was still in his ear and he still wasn't speaking on it. Moreover, his other hand remained hidden behind his back. My heart sank into my stomach and my stomach leaped into my throat. Why did he turn around on that first part of the path? Why did he turn at the fork? He was close enough to us for me to

realize that he must have turned around soon after we did. He must have seen us turn down that other path at the fork. All the alarms in my body were ringing, get out of here. When we needed to pass him, I just started to jog. Hey, I'm wearing the appropriate outfit for a trail that most people use for exercise. Maybe my intention was to jog this whole time, you know. I didn't stop jogging until I was out of the woods and in the tall grass. I turned to look behind me and luckily, my son and I were alone again. I jogged some more until there was a huge distance between us and the trail and we waited in the dealership waiting room for the rest of the time that we were working on my car. I did go back to the arboretum after that but

I haven't ventured down that section of the trail ever again. Now maybe that was just a regular businessman, nothing happened between me and this man and maybe nothing was going to happen but personally I'd rather go for an unplanned jog than ignore my gut and find out When I was younger, around the ripe age of 13, I used to babysit for my neighbor whom I had a close connection with. I was mature for my age and had been friends with her kids before they moved in with their dad, who lived about two hours away. Now for privacy, let's call my neighbor C and her son, who was on the spectrum, J. On Friday night, I had nothing to do, and C asked if I was free to watch J while she went out to meet a guy that she had been friends with for a couple of years.

Before diving into her life, I should provide some context about C. She knew a lot of people, and not all of them were good. The kids in the neighborhood were aware of this because we had spent our entire childhood and early teenage years in her life taking care of her kids and babysitting whenever she needed us. C had connections and a huge social status in our community. She had people who knew and loved her within a two minute radius as well as those who were 20 hours away. So when she asked me on a random Friday night and mentioned a guy's name that I had never heard before it didn't surprise me.

C didn't have the nicest house or car or clothes. I didn't blame her because she was a single mom working three jobs and taking care of two kids and a toddler. At around 10pm, after spending a relatively easy four hours with Jay, I changed him into his pajamas and tucked him into bed. I put on the movie Cars for him since he was obsessed with that at the time and he fell asleep quickly. This left me alone in the living room. I called C to see if she was on her way home and she mentioned that she was walking out of the bar just as I called. I could tell that she was quite intoxicated and I hoped that the guy that she was with would drive her the three minutes it took to reach her house. About seven minutes later, I saw a nice 2017 BMW 3 Series pull into the driveway.

Surprised and suspicious, I looked out the window to see if I could spot C in the passenger seat. As I mentioned earlier, C didn't have the nicest belongings so this seemed a bit off. I saw her stumble out of the car and the guy walked her into the house. I greeted him but he didn't say his name. He smiled and thanked me for watching Jay so he could spend time with C. I assured him that it wasn't a problem and wished them a good time. Now skipping ahead ten minutes, C asked me where Jay was. I informed her that it was late so I put him to bed and she should go change into comfortable clothes. She ended up lying down in her bed fully clothed and actually went to sleep, leaving me, a young teenager with a man in his 40s who was balding. We sat on the kitchen floor

and got into this random deep conversation. At one point, he told me to knock on his ribs and out of curiosity, I did. I heard a hard metallic thump. It was as if though his ribs were made of metal and I pulled back and asked him about it and what had happened. He sighed and leaned back and lifted his shirt slightly, revealing a skin graft on his abdomen with a completely different shade of skin and stitches all around it. I noticed scars on his stomach and chest, some of which looked like bullet wounds. He closed his eyes and began telling me his story. He told me that two years prior, his ex-girlfriend had run him over with a car. Not just once, but thirteen times. My jaw fell to the floor as I contemplated the multitude of possibilities for why she would do this to him.

My mind raced and I couldn't help but wonder, am I in danger? These are the obvious questions one would ask oneself when faced with such a situation, and this is how the story goes. He said, I had proposed to my girlfriend the week before, and she had organized a barbecue to announce it to her family. When I arrived and saw her cooking, I looked at the barbecue skeptically since she had never made one before. When I took a bite, it turned out to be really dry, and I coughed discreetly. She asked if it was good, and to to avoid a fight I reluctantly said yes. However, I couldn't stop coughing. She inquired about what was wrong with it and I confessed that it was a little dry and this triggered an argument and I decided to head to my car.

However, she beat me to it and got into her car. As she backed up, she intentionally hit me with her car and continued to run over my ribs 13 times. I'm amazed that I survived. I was in shock. How could someone endure such an ordeal? Was this older guy joking? Is this real? Who is this man? And I asked him, who are you? What's your name? He looked at me and his eyes changed. He was deadly serious and he asked, which one? I responded, the name you were given at birth? He laughed briefly but abruptly stopped. He proceeded to inform me, a young 13-year-old girl, that he had hundreds of names and couldn't disclose a single one. He claimed to be wanted in 12 countries and many regions on the west coast.

I started to sweat. I had no clue if he was being genuine or not, but then he pulled out his wallet revealing at least 10 IDs and that's when it hit me. He stared into my eyes and said, if you or C ever need someone gone, erased from your lives, just like that, and he snapped his fingers. Tell C to reach out and I can make it happen. And with that, he rose,

opened the door, got into his luxury car, and disappeared from my sight. This whole incident wouldn't have been as eerie or unsettling if it had ended there. Perhaps he was joking, just playing a prank on me, but it only got worse. The next morning I asked C, what's the name of the guy you come home with? And she responded confused, what guy? I described his car, his injured ribs, and his bald head. I have no idea what you're talking about, she replied, and to this day I still have no clue who that man was, what his real name was, where he came from, whether he was lying, or if he was even

real. I was stationed at Fort Hood, Texas in 2015. Our command sergeant major became enraged because soldiers were not showing up on time for formation. He blamed the non-commissioned officers or the NCOs for not picking up soldiers and bringing them to formation. I thought that was a bit weird. Recently a non-commissioned officer, NCO, got into trouble for having his soldiers in his vehicle, bringing them to a formation and they got into a car wreck. Nevertheless, we carried on like good soldiers. I should add that I was new to this unit.

I drove out of my way to pick up the soldiers and bring them each morning. There was one soldier who would just not wake up or open his door. I could hear him shuffling on the other side of the door. All I thought was, just open the door man so we can go. I couldn't care less if he had a partner in there or if his room was dirty. He was holding all of us back. I even told him that exact sentence. He then did a 180 and reported me to the Equal Opportunity Leader, or the EOL. And the EOL is responsible for handling cases of hate crimes. He accused me of being prejudiced because he was Asian. And I was livid, and I said, I'm Asian, why should that matter? His counseling statement should reflect the truth.

And this is when the Sergeant Major got involved. Not for this reason, but within a day or two. They moved all NCOs to a condemned barracks. There was black mold all up and down the walls on every wall in the hall. The ceilings collapsed in the hallway. There was a vending machine with broken glass and rats. Yes, rats running around. Some rooms had broken windows and one

had pooped rubbed on the walls. We had a meeting with the sergeant major to ask why he put us there. He said, because you all deserve it. I thought that was weird. I called DPW to inquire about the barracks and found out that they were condemned due to the black mold. And chaos ensued. Doors were broken inward in the office area on the main floor. We took what we wanted, and some people even sold things. The building was a battlefield, to put it mildly. And then it got worse. We didn't know that there was a basement. We went to explore it and found it flooded. And in a drunken stupor, like any 22-year-olds would do, we ventured further. We stumbled upon water-warped furniture while entering legitimate barred-off rooms in the building. We thought that it was a joke until we heard a scream.

We ran towards it like the infantrymen we were. Someone ran away, up the stairs. Two days went by and we noticed a few older men standing outside by the cars. They didn't fit in and we wondered why they were there. Older civilians with civilian cars. We joked about all of this, but as war veterans, we were cautious. One night we got a little too drunk and went back downstairs to the basement. It was dry, but we could hear footsteps. We chased after them, but found nothing. Those barred off rooms felt like prison cells. For the next few days, I didn't think much about it. In and out and off to work. Until one night, I was hanging out with my buddy Deshawn playing video games. We were drinking and he left a few hours later to go to his room while I continued playing.

A few hours later, I noticed an eyeball peering through my window. In my drunken state, I leaned forward and made eye contact with the person whom I thought was him. The eye contact was the main thing, with larger, wider eyes, and I started to get the creeps. I leaned forward even more, opened a drawer, and gripped a knife. As I started to break into a brow sweat, I was thinking I would drunkenly engage in a knife fight in the barracks. My luck turned when I realized the doorknob was jiggling. Just as I was preparing myself, he leaned his head in while opening the door and asked, is Jack here? All I could think of was fighting, but all I said was, no sir. He then slammed the door closed. Immediately, I called

Sean and asked if he was messing with me. Sean rushed over and together we tried to figure out what was going on. In a complete act of stupidity we decided to check the rotten basement. This time we were sober as we walked downstairs. On the left side of the hallway there was a door that we had never opened. Well, in our foolishness, we opened it. Inside there was a room filled with support beams as well as, what we found, a homeless camp. We reported this to our leadership, but they did absolutely nothing. And just a few weeks later, I PCS'd or Permanent Change of station.

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