Hey, weirdos, before we dive into today's twisted tale, let me tell you about a place where the darkness never ends.
Wondery Plus. It's like stepping into a haunted mansion where the floorboards creak with ad-free episodes and early access to new episodes lurks around every corner.
So come join us if you dare. Morbid is available one week early and ad-free only on Wondery Plus.
You can join Wondery Plus in the Wondery app or an Apple podcast or Spotify.
You're listening to a Morbid Network podcast.
Listening on Audible helps your imagination soar.
Whether you listen to stories, motivation, expert advice, any genre you love, you can be inspired to imagine new worlds, new possibilities, and new ways of thinking.
Listening can lead to positive changes in your mood, your habits, and ultimately your overall well-being.
Audible has an incredible selection of over 1 million audiobooks, podcasts, and Audible Originals all in one easy app.
Find the genres you love and discover new ones.
Explore bestsellers like my sister's title, new releases, plus thousands of included audiobooks, podcasts, and originals that members can listen to all they want with more added all the time.
I have been listening to the Martha's Vineyard Beach and Book Club, which actually Elena recommended to me.
She did not listen to it, but she said, girl, this title sounds so you.
And let me tell you, it did. I've been listening to it while I walk, and I am absolutely loving it.
I love all the different narrators. I love Audible.
There's more to imagine when you listen.
Sign up for a free 30-day Audible trial, and your first audiobook is free.
Visit audible.com slash morbid. I am absolutely obsessed with a sweet treat after dinner, and my favorite sweet treat right now is my mochi.
It's mine, not yours. Just kidding. You can have some too.
This is a cool, creamy scoop of ice cream wrapped in a soft, chewy dough.
It's like a sweet little ice cream dumpling or ravioli.
I'm obsessed. It's pillowy. It's satisfying.
I feel indulged. I just love it so much.
I really am obsessed with the strawberry flavor right now.
My mochi is only around 70 calories per piece, which like, hello, that's amazing.
My mochi is gluten-free and each box has six perfectly portioned mochi snacks.
Do I eat two a night? Yeah, yeah, I do because they're that good.
And guess what? My Mochi is the number one mochi ice cream in the U.S. of A. The strawberry flavor is bursting with fresh picked fruit flavor that tastes incredibly refreshing.
I love, love, love them after dinner. This August, look for the purple box of My Mochi ice cream at your local grocery store and feel joyfully chill with the coolest treat around, My Mochi.
Hey weirdos, I'm Elena. I'm Ash. And this is Morbid.
🎵 It's a listener tale brought to you by you, for you, from you, and all about you, baby.
And it's later in the day, which you know what that means.
We are gonna be punchy. We are slapple-happle.
Slapple-happle, and you guys have sent so many wonderful things to the email, including a couple of ripperologist certificates that you have made for me.
I am printing them all out. I want you to know right now.
Alina's going to make a collage of all her Ripper certificates.
I'm not even kidding. I just said that, like, I'm choosing a wall in the pod lab and I'm going to display each and every one of them.
Yeah, that wall right there. I'm going to put them all up.
Mm-hmm. I appreciate it so much. It made me laugh.
It made me smile. You guys rule. And I love that you do those kind of things because you're wonderful people.
And I'm going to hang them on the wall. I'm going to take a photo of them at some point.
So thank you for doing that. It just like made my day.
I was dying laughing when I saw it. I love it.
So they'll be displayed proudly. They'll be on display.
Truly. Except yikes. And if you know, you know, there you go.
Yeah. So this is Listener Tales, everybody.
This is Listener Tales. And I think I'll start us off if you don't mind.
Do it. All right. listener tales my mom moved me in with a murderer but at least we had floors wow yeah i'm not sure what to say about that you know yeah yeah yeah it starts off by saying hello you wonderful witchy women thank you hey i love y'all's podcast and listen every morning as i get ready for work ash congrats on your engagement thank you and elena congrats on your book Big thanks poppin'.
Thanks. Also, a thank you is in order. Since listening to you ladies, the phrase get fucked has become one of my daily expressions.
Oh, my God. You know what's funny? What?
It's funny that you picked one that mentions that.
Yeah. Because last night. I said something, and Ash, and John was like... Interchangeable, me and John.
John was like, you know, do you tell people, like, he's like, have you ever said to someone's face, get fucked?
And I was like, I feel like I might have at some point.
I was like, I think I have. And he was like, that, like, he's like, I hear you say that about me.
He's like, I have a question. He's like, I've heard you say that quite a bit.
And he's like, but I've never seen you say it to someone's face.
So he was like, I just want to know. And he was like, that's like a real, that's a, that feels like an insult.
Like that is like, get fucked. I'm thinking back to the only time that I've ever said that to somebody in my life.
And I'm feeling that feeling. Yeah. Yeah.
It's a good feeling. It's funny that you mentioned that.
I'm glad that that phrase is bringing joy to a lot of people.
It should. It feels great. It feels great.
Yeah, it gives you just a sense of... Just a release.
Yeah, just like... Yeah, you know? So thanks for mentioning that.
I also just love that you're a big thanks poppin'.
Hell yeah. I love it a lot. But get fucked has become one of your daily expressions.
It's quite satisfying to say and fits more situations than you would think.
There you go. True. The listener tales crack me up and I always wish that I had one to send, but then it dawned on me.
You spent years living with a murderer, you dumb bitch.
That shit listener tales are made of. It's very true.
Yeah. Attached is a double-spaced putt-a-fuh for your reading ease.
It's about an eight-minute read. You guys are just killing it.
Oh, man, you guys. And at the urge of my overprotective grandma, all names have been changed.
Thank you. If this does get read on the podcast, please include this shout-out to my dear friend who is a...
Truck driver. Hell yeah. We love a good truck driver.
We love a good truck driver. And I'm sure he's listening right now.
Shout out, Della. Love you, bitch. What's up, Della?
That's a cool name. Yeah, it really is. Side note.
I know you girls have a love of great TV and Elena has a love of all things Hollywood.
Actually, that's me. Please check out the show Feud on Hulu.
It has too many amazing things to describe, but I feel like y'all would appreciate it as much as I would.
Is that Betty Davis? Oh, probably. And Joan Crawford?
Probably. I think I love that show. That's a great show.
I haven't seen that show. I think it's a Ryan Murphy show.
Ooh, I love a Ryan Murphy little project.
Well, I'm going to have to watch that. Yeah, you are.
But first, I'm going to read you this listener tale.
Until the age of nine, I lived in a rural town in South Carolina.
Like most abandoned factory towns, once the mill closed, the majority of the population struggled as finances took a toll on many families.
A lot of folks moved out of the area, and many of them have stayed... Oh, excuse me.
A lot of folks moved out of that area, and many of those that stayed turned to drugs, my family including.
Now, don't go apologizing over that. I don't like people feeling sorry for me, and I handle most of my childhood trauma with humor, which gets me a lot of sideways looks, but those who get it, get it.
That's why people are funny. Exactly. Childhood trauma makes us funny adults. being a child with drug addict parents wasn't all bad.
I've never had a bedtime, a curfew, or been grounded.
No one checked up on my grades or told me not to eat too many sweets before bed.
You know, the shit kids dream about. I know a lot of kids who grew up like this end up in the same cycle of drug abuse, but for me, living like this taught me a lot of self-discipline and accountability.
I have a sister who's three years younger than me, and we always had to look out for each other because who the fuck else was going to?
I I have to say, I'm so sorry. Like, that is hurting my heart.
Yeah. Like, I want somebody to look out for you when you were little.
Exactly. They should have. At nine, my parents divorced.
I know you're absolutely shocked that they failed to sustain a loving, happy relationship, but alas, it was not meant to be.
It was an ugly separation, and my sister and I ended up living with our grandparents.
One day, my mom called up my maw-maw, pronounced how it's spelled heavy on the W. Maw-maw.
Maw-maw. ma ma ma ma for some reason people from the south can't not from the south can never say it right so good luck we tried i really did we gave it our best shot she let ma ma know that she had moved to myrtle beach was in love and wanted my sister and i to move in with her and her new boyfriend They'd been dating for two weeks, so obviously it was a solid relationship and made perfect sense to throw some kids in the mix.
Yikes. Regardless, my sister and I were excited at the thought of living at the beach.
We were 100% convinced that our lives would be the real-life version of the show Rocket Power.
Kabanga, dude. I fucking love that show.
Wiggity, wiggity, wiggity. Pulling up to our new home, we were met with the sight of a dilapidated trailer on a dirt road.
All right. Not what I was expecting, but we were used to making lemon out of lemons.
Lemonade out of lemons. Yep. Did I just say lemons out of lemons?
You sure did. You can make lemons out of lemons.
You sure can. Cut one in half. You got two lemons.
You got lemons. You made lemons out of lemons.
There you go. But you guys were used to making- You took it a step further.
I'm innovative. You guys, though, were used to making lemonade out of lemons. shabby chic is all the rage right hell yeah but my grandma loves that brand she does i remember when i moved in with my grandparents my grandma was fucking stoked because she got me shabby chic curtains yeah and she was really excited roses on them they were beautiful Before opening the door to what I was sure was our new rustic beach bungalow, my mom gave us very specific instructions on how to walk on the floor.
Weird, but whatever. This bitch was always going off on senseless tangents.
We enthusiastically swung the door open and stepped with caution into the trailer just in case mom was right.
And this time, she was. Two steps beyond the front door was a gaping hole in the floor that opened up to the sandy earth.
Oh, no. No. What the actual fuck? Now, up to this point, the houses we lived in were modest at best, but all of them had floors.
You know, floors. One of the very basic qualities of a house.
You're really funny. You're really funny.
You are funny. You are. I looked at my sister and her eyes reflected my horror.
We both knew we were fucked. After a while, we move into a place with actual floors.
Despite the improvement on the floor situation, daily life remained the same.
Mom and Greg, my now stepdad, continued to have a volatile relationship.
Greg had a son from a previous marriage, Justin, who moved in shortly after the new floors.
There you go. There you go. Years go by and a revolving door of men come in and out of our lives.
Relatable. To put it mildly, life was chaotic.
I know deep down mom always tried to provide for us, but addiction did get the best of her.
When mom was good, she was good. But when she was bad, she was really bad.
I cannot relate to a sentiment more. There was either no food in the fridge and the house was wrecked or mom was burning biscuits while deep cleaning the sink.
It wasn't a crack house. It was a crack home.
Oh, I just like feel so bad that you had to deal with all of that chaos.
That's the thing. It's like so chaotic and you just never know what you're going to come home to.
So it's like you're constantly in defense mode.
Oh, and that just like hurts. I'm like, my stomach hurts thinking about that.
Like a poor little kid dealing with that.
I just feel really bad. It's sad. All the while, my mall mall tried to do her best to parent us via the telephone since she lived three hours away.
One of my malls. I'm trying to get the W. You're trying.
I'm trying to get the W. You're going to have to, like, email us back and tell me if I am your new worst enemy or if I did it right.
One of Mal Mal's many methods of virtual parenthood included catching us up on the daily crime occurrences happening in town, making sure to let us know if us girls weren't careful, it could very well be our photo on the evening news.
Flash to 2013. Mom was now on her fifth future ex-husband.
Yeah, fifth. Bitch was busy. Wow. Wow. During one of these cautionary conversations with my mom, she asked if I'd spoken to Justin recently.
Uh, no, mom. I don't exactly make it a habit to keep in touch with the offspring of your daughter's ex lovers.
That's fucking great. She went on to inform me that he had been arrested for murder.
Oh. Justin? Justin? I didn't see that coming.
Years had gone by since I had seen or even thought of Justin.
It wasn't that we didn't have a bond when we lived together, but between college, work, and trying to make sure that my sister had school clothes and lunch money, your girl was pretty, uh, stretched pretty thin.
Oh, man, you're a really good sister. You're a real one.
And a really good, like, daughter. And a good human.
Yeah, you're just a good person. You rock.
Never change. Good for you. But turns out Justin had fallen into the same cycle of drug abuse as our parents.
When I saw his mugshot, he was hardly recognizable.
I know physical looks change as people age, but his eyes were cold.
Not those of the kid that used to call up radio DJs to request they play my sister's favorite 50 Cent song.
Excuse me, 50 Cent. Oh, no. Oh. The gun that he shot her with was stolen from a relative's house five days prior to her murder.
One week before her murder, he wrote in a Facebook post, Wow.
Oof. That's chilling. That is incredibly chilling.
Justin subsequently pled guilty to murder along with a string of other charges related to a burglary from a separate incident and was sentenced to 30 years.
Lisa was a beautiful young woman who deserved to live her life in its entirety.
Instead, it was cut short by a heartless murderer.
Oh, that's so sad. 18. 18 years old. It still blows my mind that the boy who moved into our fully floored home, a boy my sister and I considered family at one point, and had countless memories with, could be capable of such a callous act.
We all experienced rough times in our childhood, but nothing, and I mean nothing, could excuse his blatant disregard for human life.
Well, and it shows you right here. You all had a similar upbringing, and you chose to move past it.
It's all what you make it. Like Hannah Montana said, life's what you make it, so let's make it rock.
Precisely. Keep it weird, ladies. But not so weird that your marriage-hopping mother enters a string of drug-fueled relationships and moves you in with a future killer.
Never keep it that weird. Yeah, don't. That's good advice.
I think that's great advice, I would say.
Wow. That was quite a tale. It was. That hurt my heart.
But you are a wonderful human. Yes. And your sister was lucky to have you.
Like, your parents were lucky to have you.
Mau Mau. Mau Mau, I'm sure, was so proud of you.
She was. She was. And I hope that we said ma-ma.
Right. Ma-ma. And I did a southern accent all the way through.
Right. Right. Right. Right. Thank you so much for having me.
Plus, Squarespace provides everything you need to bring more of your dream to life, whether that means building a website or adding a professional email service.
Squarespace gives you everything that you need to offer services and get paid all in one place.
From consultations, events, and experiences, showcase your offerings with a customizable website designed to attract clients and grow your business.
Plus, streamline your workflow with built-in appointment scheduling and email marketing tools.
Head to squarespace.com slash morbid for a free trial.
And when you're ready to launch, use offer code morbid to save 10% off your first purchase of a website or domain.
They say that time waits for no one, neither should payday.
To keep your money moving in the direction of your dreams, get Earnin'.
What is Earnin', you ask? Honey, Earnin' is an app that lets you access your pay as you earn it up to $150 a day with a max of $750 between paydays.
Earnin' is the app that is helping millions of Americans take charge of their pay and avoid falling into debt traps.
And Ernan's mission is to make financial momentum accessible to everyone.
It's your money, so put it in your own hands with Ernan.
I just feel like Ernan is good for so many things.
Like, you know, every now and again you get in your car and you say, oh, wow, who knew that I was on empty?
I should have known that, but I didn't. And then you look at your bank account and you're like, oh, crap, I haven't been paid yet.
Well, no. Bye. Bye. Bye. Expedited transfer is available for a fee.
Tips are voluntary and don't affect the service.
Available in select states. Terms and restrictions apply.
Visit earnin.com for full details. Download Earnin now and take control of your pay.
All right, let's see. My Listener Tale. Also, thank you for sending that in and thank you for allowing us to read that.
Yes, yes. Mine that I'm going to read is, but did your mom chase a murderer in her minivan?
No. I stumbled over that. It was going to sound great.
It still did. It says, hi, morbid peeps.
Attached is My Listener Tale, PDF, of course, and an article about the case.
Thanks. Thank you. Let us see. Hey, weirdos, my name is Brianna.
You can use it if you read this. Did you take a second?
You were like, uh. I was like, can I say it?
And I've been a dedicated listener since I found out about Morbid.
Literally went back to episode one and listened to everything except the spooky ones.
I can handle true crime, but ghosts in the paranormal?
Count me out. Oh, no. Anywho, this story isn't about me, per se, but about my mom, Stephanie.
You can use her name, too. Hey, Steph. Hey, Stephanie.
Back in 2008, my brother and I were both in high school, and our house was the one that all the kids came to after school.
Needless to say, my mom was used to having bikes and skateboards littered in the driveway and yard when she got home from work.
It was December 30th, and as she was pulling in the driveway, there was a bike blocking her way into the garage.
The bike's owner came out of the garage and got on the bike to leave.
Since it was December, he had his hood pulled up and what my mom thought was a scarf around his mouth and nose.
She said hello, thinking it was one of our friends.
When she came in the house and asked my brother who had left, he said no one.
My mom remembered that there had been a few thefts of tools from garages in the area recently.
So for some reason, my mom said to us kids, I'm going to go follow him. and left in her baby blue Nissan Quest minivan.
So some background on my mom. She is about 5'2 and 100 pounds soaking wet, but that woman is feisty.
Sounds like Elena. I love her. She found the guy riding his bike on one of the main streets right outside of our neighborhood and dialed 911.
In her words, I should have just told the police where he was to follow him, but my mother bear instinct kicked in and I pulled up alongside of him and yelled, who the fuck are you and what are you doing in my garage?
Told you she's small but mighty. As her phone was connecting to 911, the guy on the bike reached into her window, which was only opened a few inches, and grabbed her flip phone from her hands.
Again, in her words, Now I was pissed. That phone had all my children's and family's phone numbers, photos, etc.
The bike guy turned off on the main street, turned off of the main street onto a side street.
And my mom said she considered bumping him with her van to knock him off the bike.
Oh, my God. She's in an action flick right now.
She is. Something told her not to do that because it would make the aggressor, make her the aggressor.
Side note, we watch a shit ton of true crime.
Hence the little voice in her head telling her not to become the aggressor.
There you go. Look at her. My mom continued to follow the guy on his bike, who now has her cell phone, honking her horn and hoping to get someone's attention from the neighborhood.
She pulled up next to him and said, drop my fucking phone and I will stop following you.
What my mom didn't realize is that her phone had connected to 911.
And when the guy on the bike hung up, 911 kept trying to call her back.
So bike guy took the battery out of the flip phone batteries and threw the phone and battery on the side of the road.
My mom stopped following him. And once she felt he was far enough away that she could get safely out of the car, she retrieved her phone and battery.
By that time, the police were on their way from her initial call and arrived moments later.
She told the police everything, and they tried looking for Bike Guy, but couldn't find him.
They even came to our house and dusted the garage for fingerprints.
There was nothing missing from our garage.
My mom was more pissed that this guy was in her garage, one open door away from her kids and their friends.
Yeah, seriously. I'd be pissed. Eventually, Bike Guy was caught by police for breaking into another garage and stealing power tools.
What my mom thought was a 16-year-old boy turned out to be a 49-year-old man who had a murder charge.
From a domestic dispute where he stabbed and killed a man.
Oh my God. He pled guilty to manslaughter and served 15 years in state prison for that one.
How is stabbing somebody manslaughter? Exactly.
After he was arrested, the police contacted my mom to identify the man out of a picture lineup.
Even though she only saw his eyes, she picked his photo right away.
The police asked her if she was 100% sure and she said, I'm 95% sure.
The police couldn't use her ID if she wasn't 100% sure, although she later found out she chose the right picture.
That's a lot of pressure. That's a lot of pressure.
Like, I give her applause for saying, like, I'm pretty sure, but I don't know.
Yeah, because she could have just said 100%, but she was smart to be truthful.
Yeah. Luckily, they were able to connect him with the burglaries with the tools they found in his possession.
Over a span of eight months, he committed 16 burglaries by going into garages and stealing tools that he could sell.
He claims he chose the neighborhood because, quote, the people could afford to live in a larger home so they can afford to replace a tool.
Oh, yeah, because what's mine is yours. Yeah, it's not yours.
Like, what the fuck? Apparently, he couldn't find work after being released from prison, but I would assume that could happen when you literally stab a man to death and are convicted of manslaughter.
But what do I know? You know what I know.
You know. About a year or so later, my mom got a subpoena to appear in court for the hearing.
They needed my mom's testimony because they had him for burglary, but because he grabbed her phone from her hand, they could charge him with assault as well.
There were about 25 people there, many of which were victims of this guy's burglaries.
They waited about an hour and a half at the courthouse for the guy to even be brought in.
He ended up pleading guilty and got time served for the two-ish years he spent in jail waiting for the trial.
Wow. So remember... Oh, my God. Yeah. Then the day of his trial, he was an hour and a half late to court because he claimed he slipped and fell that morning in his head.
Again, he was examined and was totally fine.
I'm sure if my mom would have bumped him with her car, he would have tried to sue her or something.
Oh, yeah. My mom said this debacle taught her to think a bit before jumping into action.
So, friends, that is the story about how my tiny, feisty mom chased a convicted murderer in her minivan.
I attached an article about the guy for your reading pleasure.
Took out my mom's last name. Keep being amazing.
My, oh my. Brianna, your mom is a badass.
Like a true badass. This man. Damn. Just looks like a turd.
Wow. Good for your mom. That is terrifying.
But what a mom. Yeah, seriously. Your mom is a mom.
And just finding out later that he was a convicted murderer.
Yeah, that's terrifying. That was in your garage near your children.
And he like touched you, like taking the phone out of her hands.
Like, oh, that's terrifying. No, thank you.
All right. I got Listener Tales. I was kidnapped by a lazy cheapskate who also took my Tic Tacs.
Damn. I would be so upset if that happened to me.
Look at that. All right. Hello, hello to the awesomest true crime duo to exist.
Oh, my goodness. Thank you. Oh, my goodness.
That was a wonderful beginning. That was.
I have long since wanted to write and tell you my Listener Tale, but unfortunately, I'm always hit with the chronic bouts of procrastination.
I feel you. Same. Same. I have attached the Poodifa, and it's double-spaced for your reading comfort and pleasure.
Woo-woo! Let's take a breather before I go on rambling.
LOL. My name's Gary. Not really, but it is my air name during my time as a DJ, and I'm from the Philippines.
I love that. Not really. I do love listening to true crime, and I found yous in my recommendations list on Spotify, and I've been hooked since.
You guys have been keeping me company for months, especially while my sis, cousin, and I were locked, aka quarantined, for a month and a half in our rooms after a scare of the vid.
Oh, man. I love that you called it the vid.
The vid. Anywho, my tale of woe and adventure was during the days of yonder when I was a wee lass of six vacationing with my family, minus my dad because he stayed home for work.
I was kidnapped during this trip. Oh. And well, this story is not a woozy, but...
It's not as woozy, but darn it if I didn't stay in my effing mind for decades.
Oh, my God. For some reason, I have very vivid memories of this event.
For some reason. Probably because it was traumatizing.
Yeah, I would say so. I apologize in advance if I sound unhinged.
No way. No. I submitted my body to a diabetes-inducing level of sweets to get a sugar high so that you ladies won't be bored with my tail after graciously picking it for a listener tale.
Oh, my God. I love you. If you did... Thank you.
You're welcome. Side note, my sister hates it whenever I do get a sugar high, so she's going to kill me for this.
Oh, well. C'est la vie. C'est la vie. I couldn't say that.
C'est la vie. I know. I know. I know how to say that, but like looking at it, I was like, how do I say that?
C'est la vie. C'est la vie. Just got drunk really fast.
Just remember the Bewitched song. Oh, girl.
That's a jam. I love it. C'est la vie. Say you will.
Say you won't. Say you'll do. I don't want to get to what I do.
Okay. I'm going to stop. Okay. Again, this happened during our vacation in Manila, where my mom's sister lives.
We're from the southern part of the country in a smaller city.
A bit of background. Sheesh, this never-ending intermission.
Sorry, ladies. Never be sorry. No, it's okay.
I'm from a Chinese-Filipino family. My grandparents from both sides moved here from China to escape the war.
There's this common misconception in the Philippines that if you're Chinese, then you're loaded.
What? I didn't either. This stems from the fact that a lot of big successful businessmen here are like 80 to 90% Chinese Filipino.
Of course, it doesn't apply to everybody.
At most, I would say we're upper middle class.
During one of our outings, we went to this mall where all they have are stalls and stalls of cheap items like costume, jewelry, clothes, bags, etc.
We call them tainga. I like it. Tianga.
There were my mom, aunt, their sister-in-law, and her kids, my cousins, a teen mom.
A teen mom. You moved, so I went to look at you.
And I had already read teen and saw mom when I looked back from the upper line.
A teen mom. A teen mom from season two. Yeah.
On the way up, right in front of the set escalator, was a shop that sells plushies, and my eyes zeroed in on a giant Hello Kitty plush.
Yeah, it did. I went into the store staring at it as if I was mesmerized.
Who doesn't love a huge plushie? I love a huge plushie to this day.
Oh, yeah. My mom is the typical Asian mom that never gives us anything nonsense aside from the occasional rewards.
I get it. But at that time, as long as they were within distance, I'd always inch my way to the store and just stare at the darn thing.
Yeah. Yeah. I told my cousin I wanted to go with her.
I was getting bored out of my mind then, apparently.
Apparently, though, she didn't hear me and went on walking way too fast for my short kitty legs to move.
I eventually lost her in the crowd and I was stranded in front of the effing Hello Kitty store.
I didn't feel panicked, but I started to look around to go back to the group.
Then suddenly I saw this man walking as if on a mission toward me.
He grabbed my hand firmly and pulled me toward the escalator.
Before y'all roast me, stranger danger was not hammered in our heads since we lived in a small city and we were always monitored pretty hard growing up.
Yeah, and you're six. Yeah. Like, whoa. And, like, by monitored pretty hard, they mean no sleepovers at friends or outings either.
We were also picked up to and from school, and stranger danger was expected from us as if it was common sense.
We're not going to teach you. We're just going to expect that you know it.
Right? Back to kidnapper dude. As he was pulling me out, he kept saying he was bringing me to the mall security station as there was a woman there who just reported that she had her jewelry stolen and the jewelry matched the ones that I was wearing.
What? What an asshole. This six-year-old little baby and he's like, you stole jewelry.
Ew. On the spot processing was and still is not my very strong suit.
And at the time, it made sense to me. Mind you, Mr. Kidnapper doesn't look like a creeper at all.
He was well-dressed, either in his late 20s or early 30s.
He asked me then the name of my parents, my address, and phone number.
I think that was when the dumb bum pooper realized that I'm not from the capital city, but from one of the provincial cities way south.
If you didn't know, the Philippines is an archipelagic.
Yes, there you go. Archipelagic country with three major islands.
Now, I just want to say. I think that's how you say it.
I just mean like you did it. Archipelago?
Because it's an archipelago. I can't. Hold on.
Yeah, it's an archipelago. Yeah, archipelago.
Right? Yeah, I think it is. I had to like go through it in my head.
Archipelago. What's the other one that starts with P?
Not peninsula. Is it what the... Pangea.
Oh, that... It just made me think of it.
I was like, what? What? Land. Just land.
Land. I was like, wait, what? You're like, where are we?
Where are we? Where are we? We're at an archipelago.
Well, anyways, the kidnapper. If he did have plans to get ransom money, he would have to at least make a long-distance call or maybe travel there.
Mind you... My Donna know, I think, back then was, well, let's just say there's a lot of boom, boom, pow happenings in a few regions.
I got that boom, boom, pow. The way you write is amazing.
That's great. We got out of the building and went in the one right next to the first.
He pulled me in a dark entrance with a short corridor with what I think now was the passageway for the disabled.
He told me to stay there, that he would ask the lady at the station if my stuff was hers, and asked me to take off my jewelry.
My favorite necklace with a tiny gold dog pendant and a ring that wasn't even real.
He apparently didn't see my earrings. My hair managed to cover them.
My mother later told me that it was the only jewelry that was actually valuable.
So you got on him. At that time, I didn't feel an ounce of fear at all.
I cry pretty easily, but I was calm, a calm, quiet kid most of the time.
And I was taught that nonsense crying was not to be tolerated.
Before he left, this heartless sewage of a man took my Tic Tacs with him.
The nerve. Oh, my God. Literally took candy from a baby.
Yes, that's what you did. Well, not really a baby, but you get it.
Yeah, it makes sense. I get it. You were a baby.
You were. He then left me there alone with only my face towel on me.
Oh. I kept twisting the tag until it came off.
I now have bouts of anxiety here and there, and I think that's where it started.
Yeah. I would say so. I would say so. My mind just zeroed in on the fact that he took my TikToks, and I started crying.
Oh, my God. I want to give you a hug. I do, too.
Not that I would not be able to see my family again or about being kidnapped or trafficked.
No. I cried because of the freaking stupid TikToks.
Oh, because you were a baby. Yeah, it's...
It's your most prized possession. Yeah. Oh my goodness.
Yeah. Honestly, I don't know how I communicated at the time since I spoke in a dialect and I wasn't sure if he was able to speak Filipino at that age.
Or excuse me, I don't know if I was able to speak Filipino at that age.
I think I managed to tell him how I came to be there.
He held out his hand to me and told me that he'd bring me to his manager.
We came out of that corridor into a drugstore just beside it.
He called his manager, who was this nice, kindly man.
He asked me what happened, and I told him that I came with my family, and they're in the other building.
He asked if I remembered the way, and I said yes.
He and the guard who found me escorted me back to the building.
I then pointed to the escalator and told them we used it.
Just as we were about to reach the top, I saw my family by a burger stall.
There was a few... There was a few shouting, but I couldn't hear it since my eyes zeroed in on my sister and cousins eating at the said burger stall, nary a care that I was missing.
Grr. I mean, honestly, right? Right. Right.
Anyway, kind manager guy and the guard talked to my mom and aunt.
They said that they sent out a PA, but unfortunately that could only be heard by the building and not the next one.
My mom then asked me questions that confused me at the time, like if the guy touched me or if he took my underwear.
She was very much relieved when I said no.
They thanked the manager and the guard and we hurriedly left the mall and they didn't even get me a burger.
Since nothing truly bad happened to me, they started to joke around to probably distract me away from possible trauma.
During dinner, my mom told us that she was praying behind that burger stall, and just as the word amen left her lips, I popped up on that escalator, red-faced from a stolen tic-tac, but otherwise fine. oh i love that i know if i wasn't an answered prayer or excuse me if that wasn't an answered prayer i don't know what is i guess i'm lucky i was kidnapped by a lazy guy who couldn't be bothered to make a long distance call to make ransom demand thank goodness for real what a terrible human yeah i'm just like what the hell were you gonna do you piece of shit yeah seriously i'm really mad that he stole you and then literally took your candy and then just left you there and just like and didn't care like this guy just went about his day Yeah.
What a piece of shit. That's the other thing.
Like, what do you do after that? Yeah. You just go to Wendy's?
Get fucked, dude. You're the worst. Get fucked.
For a few years after that, they believed that I walked away from them to go back to that Hello Kitty place.
It's frustrating that they wouldn't believe me when I say I did not.
The day after the incident, my aunt brought us girly's Hello Kitty plushies, and of course, mine was the most special one.
I love it. Oh, and a few things to add. There was a lot of kidnappings of Chinese Filipinos during that time.
I was a second generation kidnappee. Whoa.
My uncle was first, and his experience was more of a doozy.
Oh, no. I also have a few more stories to share, like when I had a stalker for years, or when there was literally a real-life Call of Duty scenario outside of our house, and I was more pissed that they woke me up than the fact that they were in a gunfight with semi-automatics.
Oh. Anyway, there's a lot of nitty-gritty tales from my city, probably why murder doesn't really faze me much anymore.
LOL, fortunately, the crime rate went down by a lot these past few years.
Hey, silver lining. Awesome. And then they gave us a ton of suggestions from the Philippines, which we are definitely going to look into.
Thank you. Oh, and I will attach an extra spooky tale by my ex-boyfriend's teammate while I listened in real time the screams and yells of the other guy as it was happening.
Whoa. Okay. P.S. I'm so sorry about Bailey, Elena.
I've lost dogs in the past and the pain of losing a beloved baby is truly heartbreaking.
Very true. Thank you for that. I'm attaching the photo of me at the time of the kidnapping and one of our new German Shepherd puppies to make you smile today.
We planned to sell a few, but we all got attached, especially my mom, even if she won't admit it.
And we're keeping them all. For now, take it away, Lady Ash.
Keep it weird, but not so weird that you kidnap a child and take their TikToks, especially a freaking adorable little.
Oh, my goodness. You are so fucking cute.
You are so cute. Oh, my God. Your little hair with like your scrunchies.
And your little bangs. you're adorable oh and i love your earrings i'm glad i hope those are the ones you got to keep also the puppies oh my goodness so freaking cute wow the fact that you that title really did just lay it out i was kidnapped by a lazy cheapskate who also took my tic tacs like what the fuck man i'm glad you got out of there because you're adorable and hilarious yeah Why choose a Sleep Number smart bed?
Can I make my site softer? Can I make my site firmer?
Can we sleep cooler? Sleep Number does that.
Cools up to eight times faster and lets you choose your ideal comfort on either side.
Your Sleep Number setting. Get early access to Sleep Number's biggest sale of the year.
25% off the i8 bed. Our most popular. Plus free home delivery.
Limited time. All Sleep Number smart beds offer temperature solutions for your best sleep.
Check it out at a Sleep Number store or sleepnumber.com today.
Why are there ridges on Reese's peanut butter cups?
Probably so they never slip from her hands.
Could you imagine? I'd lose it. Luckily, Reese's thought about that.
Wonder what else they think about. Probably chocolate and peanut butter.
So this next one is called The Time My Fat Cats Got Me Out of a Sticky Situation.
I did pre-read this one, and I do just want to give you guys like a little trigger warning.
This one does involve like an attempted sexual assault.
Okay. Thank you for telling us that. It does.
All right. Yeah. Well, this one says, Hi, I love you guys so much, and you get me through long days of massaging.
Yep, I'm a massage therapist. Can you come to my house?
And I listen to you two talk about serial killers and whatnot while I'm giving someone a peaceful massage.
Don't worry. I wear my AirPods. I will be changing names for safety because I'm paranoid.
I feel you. My name is Stevie and I'm from Arizona.
Don't worry. That's not a real name. 100% believe in everything supernatural and have many experiences.
So let me know if you want to hear some of those.
We do. We do. We always, always do. We do.
If you want to send in like a 10-page document with all your listener tales, it could just be your listener tale.
Oh, yeah. We can just make it your listener tale.
We did that with Bradley. So there you go.
But unfortunately, this story is not supernatural.
So sorry to disappoint. Hold on to your butts.
This is about the time my fat cats got me out of quite the pickle.
I love a fat cat. PDF attached. It was 2019 and my 22nd birthday was coming up.
My parents have a pretty nice house with a pool table, a huge deck, axe throwing, and a fireplace on a huge piece of land with chicken and bees.
We were just talking about axe throwing.
I love that. They're a trip. They sound like a trip.
I know. But needless to say, their house is usually the party house.
My parents were out of town for my birthday, so I asked if I could still have a small party at their house and they were okay with it.
Yay! I invited my friends and told them all that they could bring a friend or two if they wanted.
One of my good friends, whom I've known for years, Brittany, brought about five friends, which I was okay with because, again, she was a good friend.
We're going to have to pause because a lawnmower is going by.
And I figured anyone associated with Brittany is a good seed.
Uh-oh. I was sadly mistaken. I saw that coming a mile away.
Oh, no. Brittany, what did you do? One of the guys she brought shall be named Asshat.
I've met Asshat once before, briefly. He seemed fine, nothing out of the ordinary stuck out about him.
He actually seemed kind of sweet and shy.
Uh-oh. So we're all partying and having a good time until about 2 a.m.
We've all been drinking, but nothing crazy.
Nobody was blacking out, throwing up, nothing.
Including me. I only had a few cups of some weak jungle juice that I tried to make and a couple beers.
Taking me back. So I definitely wasn't incoherent, but I wasn't sober.
Anyway, the party is winding down and people are starting to leave.
I was sitting in a chair right by the front door saying my goodbyes and thank yous to everyone who came.
I like that you were just sitting in a chair.
That's amazing. That's like queen shit. Yeah, you're like, thanks for coming.
Thank you for coming. The last people to leave were my best friend and her boyfriend.
They stayed while I got ready for bed. Once I was ready, they left.
I saw everyone leave. I go lay in bed and call my ex, Nate, for a late night tipsy chitchat.
I know, I know, I'm dumb. You're not. We've all been there.
But let's be honest, we've all been there.
We get it. Everybody's been in that mode.
This detail is important to note because I was lying on my right side, but my phone was on my left ear.
So I couldn't really hear anything going on in the house.
I was home alone. The door to my room was ajar about a foot wide.
As I lay on my right side, I'm facing the door.
Right as I hang up the phone, I see asshat walk past my room.
But you saw everybody leave. I would shit my pants.
He walked from the right to the left. The only thing to the right of my bedroom is another bedroom and a bathroom.
He was walking away from those rooms and toward the front door.
I thought maybe he was in the bathroom getting sick while everyone was leaving, and now he's just barely leaving.
But I didn't hear the front door open and close.
I didn't hear him leave. I immediately felt uneasy.
I texted Nate, "'Asshat is still here. I don't know why.'"
Nate is asking a ton of questions that I don't know the answer to, and I know what you're thinking.
Why didn't Nate come over? Because he was in Vegas six hours away.
Oh, no. I was thinking that, too. I was like, Nate, come on over.
X or not, come over. This is where the trigger warning is, sexual assault and attempted rape.
Next thing I know, asshat enters my room, stands at the foot of my bed, and begins to take his shoes off.
I sit up in bed and say, what are you doing?
Good one, Stevie. That's all you could think to say.
He responds, shh, you're fine, you're fine.
Lay back down. Those words still haunt me to this day.
My mind was running a million miles a minute trying to figure out what I should do.
I laid back down, turned onto my side, and pretended to be asleep slash very drunk.
I thought maybe this would deter him from trying to have sex with me because at this point, I didn't think he was actually going to try to force himself onto me.
He climbs into bed with me and starts to spoon me.
I'm still lying there hoping he's just going to fall asleep or something.
I don't know. Then he starts touching me all over.
I won't go into too much detail, but I squeezed my thighs shut with my hand cupped over my hoo-ha to try to stop him from getting his hand into my underwear.
And I said, stop and no. He was getting more aggressive and was kissing on my neck and ear.
Gross. It's like, as somebody is sitting there saying stop and no, you're still continuing to kiss their neck.
Like, what about that? You're a rapist. Like, you're fucking disgusting.
Yeah, you're a rapist. Then I remembered I had my phone under my leg.
I slid it out and tried to dial 911 without him seeing, but that didn't work.
He noticed me dialing and pushed my phone out of my hand and onto the floor.
Shit. What do I do? I was afraid to start fighting because he could overpower me easily.
What if that makes him mad and he murders me or something?
As we all know, that shit happens. And honestly, like...
If he's willing to do this and go this far, that is scary.
It is. You're like, if you're willing to do this, what else are you willing to do?
Like, you are a scary human being. Absolutely.
By the way, all the stress and adrenaline running through my body sobered me right up.
I bet. I keep mentioning that I was not drunk in this situation because nothing is more infuriating than when I tell this story and the first thing out of someone's mouth is, well, were you drunk?
I know you two angels would never ask that, but some people do.
It's like, what about this? Like, why is that pertinent to the story?
Even if she was drunk. That wouldn't even factor into my brain.
He crawled into bed with her. So even if she was drunk, that actually makes it worse somehow.
Honestly. And she said, no, stop. So that doesn't matter.
No more questions to ask. That's it. So my phone just got thrown onto the floor and I don't know how to get out of this situation.
My dad has a gun safe in the living room, but how do I get to it?
More importantly, how do I get to it without asshat following and possibly getting a gun before I do?
I had no idea what this guy was capable of, but I knew if he was willing to do this, he was willing to probably willing to do other terrible things as well.
What's crazy is I haven't read this, but you and I are just like thinking the same thing.
Possibly because like a similar situation happened to me and I remember thinking these exact same thoughts.
Yeah. So that's really weird that these are coming out because it's like, I will.
You can tell that. This is where my fat cats come into play.
Don't worry. They know they're fat. And they like it that way.
During the party, I'd lock them in the back room with food, water, and a litter box because we had the back doors open and I didn't want them escaping.
Also, I knew some people were allergic to cats, so it was best that they keep their distance for the night.
Well, while asshat was trying to force himself onto me, I heard my cats in the room ready to be let out.
This was my chance. I didn't know if it was going to work, but I had to try.
I said, let me let my cats out, shoved him off me, speed walked out of the room, opened the door for my cats.
LOL. Why did I actually let them out? then ran to the gun safe by the grace of god i remembered the code to the safe i haven't put the code in in years i punched in at enlightening speed i surprised myself i reached for the first gun i saw pulled it out turned around and i was bringing the gun up just in time for him to turn the corner and be met with the barrel of my mama's gun fucking badass you chose the wrong bitch bitch Keep in mind that all this happened in a matter of like 10 seconds.
It all happened so fast. So there I am in my underwear and a t-shirt pointing a gun between this guy's eyes straight out of a movie.
And this motherfucker puts his hands up and says, whoa, are you serious?
I'd be like, are you? I don't know, man.
Do I look serious? So I say, yeah, I'm serious.
Get the fuck out of my house. He goes back into the room to grab his things and I stay there frozen, waiting for him to come back out.
He comes back and starts walking against the wall towards the front door, trying to stay as far away from me as possible.
I followed him with the gun still pointed at him all the way to the door.
He opened it, turned around, and said, Yeah, I bet the fuck you are.
I don't blame you. I don't either. To the point where I wasn't even crying anymore.
Tears were just coming out of my eyes. I didn't know that was even possible.
It's so weird how our bodies work. I wasn't even scared or shaky as I pointed the gun at him.
I just did it. My body just kind of took over and said, this is what we're doing.
It was total fight or flight situation and I chose fight.
So I just kind of sat on the couch crying for a minute and thought, okay, what now?
I mean, really, what do you do after that?
Go back to sleep? I don't think so. No way.
All I knew was that I didn't want to be alone.
So I called my best friend to tell her to come back.
She came back and turned her 30 minute drive into a 15 minute drive.
I don't know how, but I'm glad it was the middle of the night.
So no other cars were on the road. She got to my house and I tried telling her what happened in between my tears.
I remember saying, I pointed a gun at him.
I pointed a gun at him over and over. She stayed the night with me and I tried to sleep, but I couldn't.
Anytime I began to nod off, I would hear something and spring up out of bed.
I did sleep for over 36 hours after that.
I think the only reason I finally did fall asleep was, oh, she didn't.
I was like, uh-uh. For a second, I was like, damn, that's a long time.
Yeah. I didn't sleep for over 36 hours after that.
And that sucks. Yeah. I think the only reason I finally did fall asleep was because my body physically couldn't stay awake anymore.
Probably. The next morning I texted my mom what happened.
She told me to go to the police. Dude, Stevie, why didn't you call the police last night after he left?
Because I was in shock. I literally just didn't think about it.
So I went and made my statement. It was so painful to tell my story and relive the events, but I wanted asshat behind bars.
Unfortunately, I had to tell my story to the police several times, which sucked.
But what really sucked was the police asked me to do a confrontation call with asshat.
Are you kidding me? For those who don't know, a confrontation call is when the victim calls the perpetrator while the police listen in on the phone call.
I didn't know that this was a thing that happened.
That's awful. The police and or detective will coach the victim on the questions to ask to try to get a confession out of the perpetrator.
Now, flashback to when I made my statement.
I told the officer that Assad never left my house when all the partygoers were leaving.
I told the officer that I figured Asshat had hid in the back bedroom that was to the right of my bedroom and waited until everyone left before coming out.
Okay, back to the confrontation call. The detective told me to ask, why did you hide in the bedroom while everyone was leaving?
Asshat says, what? No. No, I didn't do that.
What the fuck? Okay, so what did you do?
Unfortunately, neither me nor the detective thought to ask that question.
So we move on with the questions, and long story short, they got enough out of him during the phone call to count as a confession.
Hell yeah. Thank goodness. The police arrested him, they went through the motions, and he ended up getting three years of supervised probation.
Bullshit. Not exactly what I wanted him to get, but I'm hoping it's enough to teach him a lesson.
Absolute bullshit. So you're probably wondering, was he waiting in the bedroom or not?
I was wondering that. Well, a few days after the confrontation call, I went to my parents to see that my parents at their house.
They take me outside to show me that there are handprints on almost all of the windows around the house.
Asshat started at the front of the house, checking every window to see which one was unlocked so he could break in.
It's so frustrating that, like, you didn't know this before, because then he could have gotten a break-in charge.
In the fact that he acted like, what? No, I didn't wait in the bedroom.
I didn't wait in the bedroom. Why would I do that?
I crawled through a window. I broke into your home.
I just home invaded. That's all. Jesus.
I asked what he did and they said, I don't know, you'd have to contact his probation officer.
So I said, okay, can I have their number?
They replied very rudely with, honey, we're just the police department.
We don't have his PO's number. You'd have to call ASSAT and ask for his PO's number.
Oh, yeah. Cool. Hi. Remember that time when you assaulted me and you're on probation about it now?
Can I have your probation officer's number?
Real quick. Thank you so much. Like he's going to give you a real fucking number.
I'm sorry. First of all, how am I supposed to know that?
Second, you want me to call up the man who broke into my house and tried to rape me and ask him for his PO number?
I couldn't believe it. The system is broken.
Needless to say, I never found out how he broke his probation.
His probation is up in December, which makes me very nervous.
Hopefully he's smart enough to just stay away.
Oh, I'm sorry. Anyway, thank you for reading my listener tale.
Here's a few pics of my adorable cats. White one is Caffrey.
I call him Calf. Gray one is Enzio. Love you guys so much.
Remember that fresh air is for dead people and to always lock your doors and windows.
Keep it weird. Take it away, Ash. Not so weird that these aren't your cats because these are so, these cats are so fucking cute.
These are precious cats, I will say that.
I'm obsessed the way he's holding your little hand.
And those cats saved you. They saved you.
They saved you because they needed to come out.
I am so sorry that you went through that.
That's horrific. And it's absolutely terrible.
I hate that you had to go through that. I hate that you had to retell the tale a million times.
And I hate that you have to deal with it in December.
I know, seriously. I'm so sorry, but thank you for sharing it with us.
Yeah, thank you so much. I can't imagine having to live through an experience like that and then have the guts to tell it all over again.
Yeah, seriously. All right, I think we've got time for one more Listener Tale.
One more. And we're going to do Listener Tale.
Yeeted from a fatal crash by an angel, I prayed with my dad's killer.
Wow. Holy cannoli. Holy cannoli is right.
Holy guacamole. Holy guacamole. Holy guacamole. it says hey spooky booze obligatory gushing before the story i l-o-v-e you two i've been listening to morbid for years and i am so excited and uh i broke and i am so excited to have so many new episodes coming out so frequently y'all are hashtag killing it thank you i work from home so listening to you gals makes me feel less lonely thanks for keeping me company I've laughed, cried, gotten chills, and cringed with you through so many cases and stories.
I smile and gush whenever I see wedding prep posts or mash on Insta.
Aw, thanks. And I squealed when I got my projected shipping date for my pre-ordered The Butcher and the Wren.
Yay! Which you can buy at The Butcher and the Wren.
No, oh my god. TinyHRL.com slash The Butcher and the Wren.
You got it. Or a Kroger, Target, or Walmart, or BJ's, or Costco question mark near you.
Yeah. Costco? Yeah. Sure. Why not? I don't know, to be honest, but she's in airports.
So read her while you're over the horizon.
My uncle found it in Ireland. What? Yeah.
He did? Yeah. They found it in Ireland. That's so fucking rad.
Yeah. Wow. Well, I have attached my listen to tale as a PDF double spaced.
It's long, but I won't apologize because I know you won't shorten it.
But if you need to feel free. Hell yeah, you're the best.
I would like not to have my name shared.
If any of my real friends hear the story, they will know that it's mine and that's fine.
But, you know, I think I've omitted all the names in my story.
Whatever there is, whatever is there is fair game.
Thanks for keeping company. Me keep... God.
You're okay. Thank you for keeping me company and keeping it weird.
Thank you. Thank you. Thank you for listening to me break.
Malfunction. All right. So the listener tale starts off with, I recently listened to the Justice for Katie Palmer episode and finally felt like I had something relatable to share.
When I was 15, my parents and I were in a horrific car accident.
That same day, I returned home from church camp and we went to dinner with my parents' best friends.
I've worked very hard to stop beating myself up about blaming myself.
If I had just said I was too tired to go out, we could have stayed home and nothing would have happened.
But that's, you can't do that to yourself.
You cannot. It's so easy to do, but you don't need to do that.
No. Yeah. Wow. Wow. My brain said, it'll be fine.
You don't need to get in the backseat and buckle.
Just relax. We'll be home soon. It should also be noted that the half bench had my baby brother's car seat pushed to the seat next to the window, not strapped in because he was studying with my grandma.
Staying. I was like, he was studying? Baby brother was studying.
He was staying with my grandma at Graham's that night.
I dozed off, and the next thing I knew, I heard an earth-shattering crunch.
Opened my eyes to see the lights of a Waffle House sign going around like a tilt-a-whirl, and then blackness.
That's horrifying. Oh, my God. When I came to, I could smell the powder from the airbags and see smoke.
I could see my parents in the front seat.
My dad slumped over onto my mom's side, both silent.
Oh, goodness. Wow. Wow. Next thing I knew, I was standing in the middle of an intersection surrounded by first responders screaming about getting a fire extinguisher because our van had flames coming from the engine.
I was certainly dazed and obviously in a shock.
A police officer approached me and asked where I'd come from.
I told him I was in that car. My parents are in there.
Whoa. Whoa. Whoa. As I'm standing there, in the grass, in front of a gas station, there are people all over the place.
Safe to say, I'm losing my damn mind. I'm screaming and shouting prayers to save my family and help us.
I hit my knees and was sobbing. And then this man approaches me, looking just as shocked as I was, and saying he's so sorry.
He was trying to calm me down, and I asked if he'd just pray with me.
That was the only thing I could think to do.
Everything was so chaotic, I was leaning on my faith to pull me through.
Eventually, a victim's advocate came and took me into a patrol car to ask for all of our information.
By some miracle, my 15-year-old self was able to calmly tell her our names, dates of birth, address, and emergency contact information.
My baby brother was 18 months old and he was staying with my grandma.
She was glad to hear this because the fireman had been looking for a baby since the car seat was empty.
Oh. Oh my goodness. I can't imagine. Wow.
Wow. Wow. Oh my God. This is like horrifying.
When I was cleared, she looked at my uncle if he wanted to say it or if she, oh sorry, or if she should.
That's when I knew that something was wrong.
My dad was killed on impact and my mom had been taken by helicopter to the next town's trauma center and was barely hanging on.
I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry. Ugh. Ugh.
My uncle apparently did too, but he was more concerned with my safety.
Little did I know, excuse me, little did I know it, it was the shell-shocked man from the scene.
Oh, my whole body just got chills. Mine just did that, like, whoom.
Woof. I was discharged, and we went to my grandma's to deliver the devastating news.
I remember my baby brother running to me, and I just held on to him and sobbed, thanking God that he wasn't with us, that he was still here, crying because he'd never get to know our amazing dad, and worrying about my mom and not knowing if we were about to be orphaned.
Oh, my goodness. After I got cleaned up, I pulled out the phone book and started calling all of my dad's friends I could think of to let them know what happened.
We'd been T-boned by a drunk driver. I was all right, but my mom was barely hanging on and my dad was killed on impact.
Yes. 15 years old, sitting in the kitchen with a phone book, calling my dad's friends to deliver this news to him.
The impact of that is just hitting me as I'm typing this.
I'm so sorry for the trauma that caused hearing about your friend's death from his daughter.
Oh, my God. You know, I was literally about to say like, oh, like, oh, seriously.
All of that. But man, you like stepped up.
Oh, wow. We went to visit my mom. And on the way there, my uncle asked if my dad liked the song that was playing.
I said, yeah, why? He said he must be here because the radio just turned itself off.
The lyrics are there ain't no place I'd rather be next to you sitting next to me.
Oh, wow. I took comfort in that, that he was there with me and always would be.
Oh, my God. Oh, no. Jeez. My mom was in terrible shape, but she pulled through, unfortunately, with lifelong damage.
She has a massive road rash scar on her arm to remind her of that terrible night for the rest of her life, as well as brain damage-induced seizures and memory loss.
Oh, I'm so sorry. I am, too. The pond scum that hit us that allowed me to clutch onto him and cry to the Lord to save my family was drunk and doing.
Oh, that makes me so fucking angry. And doing 80 in a 45.
Oh my God. He blew through a red light striking us as we attempted to make a left hand turn across the intersection.
That infuriates me. Not only did this motherfucker get drunk and get into a vehicle, but then proceeded to go 80 miles in a 45.
Wow. Wow. He was taken to the hospital to get blood drawn for the BAC.
It was about .164, over double the legal limit in Florida.
He also had drug paraphernalia in his vehicle.
He was not charged with vehicular manslaughter.
Are you kidding me? What? What? The traffic lights at the intersection were not operational on the date of our accident, so they could not prove that he ran the light.
He hit you. It doesn't matter. Yeah, he T-boned you and killed your father.
Jesus. Oh, my God. Even with the evidence that there were zero tire marks that showed he even attempted to stop, regardless of the fact that he was going almost double the speed limit and we weren't even halfway through the intersection.
I'm not even sure that he was arrested for DUI that night.
That's wild. That's wild. There was an investigation and I identified him in a photo lineup.
His face haunts me to this day. I know his name and I've seen him be arrested for several other DUI and drug-related charges.
Oh, cool. So he did this and then continued to do what he did.
Yeah, because he didn't get punished at all.
And continued to do it. Killed a man and walked away from it.
Almost killed an entire family in one fell swoop.
Like killed a man, took away somebody's father.
And learned nothing from it. And then like the damage that their mom is like living through.
And just learn nothing from it. Those are the biggest pieces of shit in the world.
The ones who do this shit and learn nothing.
Absolutely nothing. There's been zero justice for our family.
I feel for Katie's family. I know that hurt.
It's not just a good old boy police mentality in this case.
Just a completely dropped ball. That's infuriating.
But 17 years later, we're all living our lives, trying our best to make a daddy proud.
I just wish he'd have been here to walk me down the aisle to meet his granddaughter.
And I know that my brother and mom's life would be completely different if he was still here.
He's since been joined by my grams, and I sure am looking forward to being with them one day.
Oh, I want to give you a hug. I do, too.
I want to give you like the biggest hug.
Shout out to the victims advocates. They really are out there doing the most.
I may not remember her name, but I remember her presence and she helped me so much.
They are amazing. She even came to my dad's funeral.
I recognized her instantly and she gave me the biggest hug saying she couldn't believe how strong I was and had to tell me one more time that everything was going to be all right.
Oh, wow. A completely trash human. An absolute piece of shit.
Wow. Oh, man. That is gut-wrenching. I'm so sorry that you went through that.
Man. What? Oh, I'm so sorry. That is so sad.
That really is. I can't believe that you went through all of that.
No. But you are insanely strong. You're like a warrior.
The fact that at 15 years old, you sat at that table and called your dad's friends.
With a phone book in front of you. Like you're an amazing person.
Wow. Oh, I just want to give you a hug. I know.
Like truly. There's so many of you on this episode.
I just want to like get you in a big group hug.
I know. Jeez. But thank you so much for writing that story down and sending it to us.
I know. And I hope it was like somewhat cathartic.
Yeah. While you did it. You know, sometimes people say that.
Yeah. Like to write it out is cathartic.
Yeah. But man, like families like yours and families like Katie Palmer's, it's just so frustrating that we can't just like... snap my fingers and fix it for you guys because it's so frustrating.
It really is. Oh, that actually reminds me.
We are working on bringing Katie's light to Massachusetts.
Oh, yeah. Listen to that episode. So my brother or my soon to be brother in law is a firefighter and his unit is going to be hanging up lights for families that have had like something happen to them.
That's so amazing. I'm so excited. They already We have one family.
So if you're in the Massachusetts area, we're going to start working on getting it over here.
Yeah, we want to get some more. You can nominate people on the page.
We'll link it in the show notes. We got to spread Katie's light everywhere.
We got to. Oh, man, guys. Thank you so much for sending these in.
Yes. And I want to give you all a big hug.
And we love you. And we hope you keep listening.
And we hope you keep it weird. But not that weird.
Don't be a trash human. Think about other people and how your decisions will affect others.
And if you can't do that, learn from your damn mistakes.
Thank you. Bye. Bye. If you like Morbid, you can listen early and ad-free right now by joining Wondery Plus in the Wondery app or on Apple Podcasts.
Prime members can listen ad-free on Amazon Music.
Before you go, tell us about yourself by filling out a short survey at wondery.com slash survey.
The town of Agde in France is famous for sun, sand, sea and sex.
But lately, life on the coast has taken a strange turn.
The town's mayor, a respected pillar of the community, has been arrested for corruption.
His wife claims he's been bewitched by a beautiful clairvoyant.
Then there's the mysterious phone calls that local people have been getting.
I am the Archangel Michael. The whole town has been thrown into chaos.
As the mayor is unable to carry out his duties, I would like to address you all.
Legal proceedings have been initiated. Join me, Anna Richardson, and journalist Leo Schick for The Mystic and the Mayor as we investigate a story of power, corruption and magic.
Binge all episodes of The Mystic and the Mare exclusively and ad-free right now on Wondery+.
Start your free trial in Apple Podcasts, Spotify or the Wondery app.
