Morbid - Episode 384: Listener Tales 55

Episode Date: October 28, 2022

This batch has a kidnapping that involved tic tacs, a mom that chased a murderer in her minivan and a very heartbreaking tale of one listener’s loss. If you have a listener tale please send it in to [e-mail] with “Listener Tale” somewhere in the subject line! :)ALSO: We are spreading Katie Palmer's light all the way to Massachusetts with the help of Ash’s soon to be brother in law. He and his fellow firefighters have teamed up and joined the Katie Palmer Project. If you have a family that you would like to nominate to have their Christmas lights hung up, check out this site!Katie Palmer ProjectSee Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

Hey, Prime members, you can listen to morbid, early, and ad-free on Amazon music. Download the app today. You're listening to a morbid network podcast. Whether you're running errands on your daily commute, or even at home, you can enjoy all your audio entertainment in one app, the Audible app. As an Audible member, you can choose one title a month to keep from the entire catalog. This includes the latest bestsellers and new releases. Plus get full access to a growing selection of included audiobooks, audible originals,

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That's W-O-N-D-E-R-Y-P-O-D. Audible.com slash wandery pod or text wandery pod to 500-500 to try audible for free for 30 days. Angie has made it easier than ever to connect with skilled professionals to get all your home projects done well. Just bring them your project online, or with the Angie app, and answer a few questions. With Angie, you can book instantly at an upfront price, or request and compare quotes from multiple pros, so you can find the best price for your project.

So the next time you have a home project, just Angie that and start getting the most out of your home. Download the free Angie mobile app today or visit Angie.com. That's ANGI.com. Hey, weirdos. I'm Alena. I'm Ash. And this is morbid. More bed. So, listen or tell, 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 slap-al-happle. Slap-al-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. I'm just gonna make a collage of all your registered campaigns. 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 gonna put them all up. Mm. I appreciated 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 gonna hang them on the wall. I'm gonna 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, probably.

They'll be on display. Truly. Except yikes. And if you know. Yikes, 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. Oh, 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, I'm not sure what to say about that. You know, yeah, yeah, yeah 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 can grouch on your engagement. Thank you and Alana can grouch on your book. Thanks. Thank poppin Also, thank you as 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. Cause last night, I said something and Ash and, Ash. And John was like interchangeable. 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'm gonna prove it. 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 people. He's like, I have a question. He's like, I've heard you say that quite a bit. I mean, like, but I've never seen you say it to someone's face. So he was like, I just wanna 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. So it's just funny that you mentioned that. I'm glad that that, Kamala is bringing joy to a lot of people.

It should. 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 things 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. The listener tails 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 shitless listener tails are made of. It's very true. Yeah. Attached as a double space puttafa for your reading ease, it's about an eight minute read. You guys are just stunning. 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 the 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, I really is. Side note, I know you girls have a love of great TV and Alina has a love of all things Hollywood. Actually, that's me. Police check out the show Fude on Hulu. It has too many amazing things to describe

but I feel like you all would appreciate it as much as I would. Is that Betty Davis? And John Crawford? And John Crawford? I think I love that show. That's a great show. I think it's Ryan Murphy.

Show. I love Ryan Murphy, a little project. Well, I'm going to have to watch that. Yeah, you are. But first, I'm going to redo this little center tail. 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 feel like 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 who get those who get it, get it. That's why people are funny. Exactly. Child

to drama 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 have to say I'm so sorry, like that is hurting my heart. Yeah, 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 in my sister and I ended up living with our grandparents. One day, my mom called up my mom all, pronounced how it spelled heavy on the W. Mom all, mom all, mom all, mom all, mom W. Mama, Mama, Mama. Mama, Mama. For some reason, people from the South,

not from the South can never say it right. So good luck. We tried. I really did. Give it a shot. She let Mama 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. Oh, yes. 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. Ka-bang-ga, dude. I fucking love that show. Wiggity, wiggity, wiggity.

Pulling up to our new home, we were met with the site 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. Shade 8 out of lemons. Yeah. Did I just say lemons out of lemons? Sure. You can make lemons out of lemons. Sure can.

Cut one in half. You got two lemons. You made lemons out of lemons. You got it. But made lemons out of lemons. But you guys were you two making a step further. I'm innovating this. You guys though were used to making lemonade out of lemons. Shabby Sheik is all the rage, right?

Oh yeah. 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 Shabbyby chic curtains. And she was really excited. It was all roses on there, 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! 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, right? I looked at my sister and her eyes reflected my horror. We both knew, 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-stepped dad, continued to have a volatile relationship. Greg had a son from a previous marriage Justin, who moved in shortly after the new floors. Justin fit right in with my sister and I, like he'd been there all along. We spent our days playing basketball, riding bikes, trying not to be seen during our parents' house parties, and ducking away in bedrooms when fights got too bad. Mom and Greg's relationship lasted for a few years after Justin moved in. When they

split, Justin stayed with Mom and us girls for a while before moving back in with his own mother. 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 racked

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. I do have to deal with all of that chaos. That's the thing. It's like so chaotic and you just never know what you're gonna come home to. So it's like you're constantly in defense mode.

Oh, and that just like hurts. Like my stomach hurts the game of that. Like a poor little kid. Oh, and that just like hurts them. Like my stomach hurts thinking about that. Yeah, it's like a poor little kid dealing with that. I just feel really bad. It's sad. All the while my mom all tried to do her best to parent us via the telephone since she lived three hours away.

One of my mom's, I'm trying to get the W. I'm trying to get the W. You're gonna 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'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, Mal was now on her fifth future ex-husband. Yeah, fifth, bitch was busy. Oh wow. During one of these cautionary conversations with my mom, Mom, she asked if I'd spoken to Justin recently. Uh, no, mom, Mom.

I don't exactly make it out of it 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'd 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, stretch 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 for you. But turns out Justin had fallen into the same cycle of drug abuse as our parents. When I saw his mug shot, 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 played my sister's favorite 50 cents. Oh, excuse me, 50 cents. Maul Maul proceeded to tell me that Justin had an argument with his ex-girlfriend Lisa. He shot her in the face at Point Blank range. She was only 18. Oh no. It later came out that he'd harassed and physically abused her for weeks, possibly longer, leading up to her murder. What was worse, he planned it out. 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, I've lost the most important thing in my life. The best thing that could happen to me is gone. Now the worst is about to happen. Wow.

Justin, 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. Wow. 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, it'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.

When it shows you right here, you all had a similar upbringing. Mm-hmm. 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 that's a way that your mayor chopping mother enters a string of drug field relationships and moves you

in with a future killer. Never keep it that weird. Yeah, don't that's good advice. That's I think that's great advice, I would say. Wow. That was quite a tale. It worked 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. You're just fine. Malmau.

Malmau, I'm sure, was so proud of you. She was. And I hope that we said Malmau. Right. Malmau. And I went, I did a Southern accent all the way through right. Right.

Right. Right. Right. Right, right, right. Hi, I'm Lindsey Graham, the host of Wondries Podcast American scandal. We bring to life some of the biggest controversies in US history, presidential lies, environmental disasters, corporate fraud. In our newest series, we look at the kids for cash scandal, a story about corruption inside America's system of juvenile justice. In Northeastern Pennsylvania, residents had begun noticing an alarming trend.

Children were being sent away to jail in high numbers, and often for committing only minor offenses. The FBI began looking at two local judges, and when the full picture emerged, it made national headlines. The judges were earning a fortune, carrying out a brazen criminal scheme, one that would shatter the lives of countless children and force a heated debate about punishment and America's criminal justice system. Follow American scandal wherever you get your podcasts.

You can listen ad-free on the Amazon Music or Wondering app. What if you were trafficked into a cult over shot nine times, or fell in love with a vampire, or went into a minor surgery and woke up one week later, paralyzed? What would you do? I'm Whit Missildine, the creator of this is actually happening, a podcast from Wondry that brings you extraordinary true stories of life-changing events, told by the people who lived them. From a young man that dooms his entire future with one choice, to a woman who survived a notorious serial killer, you'll hear their first-person account of how they overcame

remarkable circumstances. Each episode is an exploration of the human spirit and personal discovery. These haunting accounts sound like Hollywood movies, but I assure you this is actually happening. Follow this is actually happening wherever you get your podcasts. You can listen ad-free on the Amazon Music or Wondery app. All right, let's see. My listener, Tale. Thank you. 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 murder in her minivan? She stumbled over that. It was going to sound great. It still did. It says, Hi morbid peeps,

attached as my listener tale, PDF of course, and an article about the case. Thank you. Let us see. Hey, Weirdos, my name is Brianna. You can use it if you read this. Take a second.

You're like, I was like, and 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 bikes owner came out of the garage and got on the bike to leave. Since it was December, he had his hood pulled up and my mom thought in 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 them. And left in her baby blue Nissan Quest mini van. So some background on my mom. She is about five foot two and a hundred pounds soaking wet, but that woman is feisty. Sounds like a lane. I love her. She found the guy riding his bike on one of the main streets right outside of our neighborhood in dial 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 see 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, et cetera.

The bike guy turned off of the main street, turned off 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.

Oh man. 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 threw the phone in 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 in battery.

By that time, the police were on their way from her initial call and arrived a moment later. She told the police everything and they tried looking for a 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 opened door away from her kids and their friends.

Yeah, seriously. I'd be pissed. Eventually, bite 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 year old man who had a murder charge from a domestic dispute where he stabbed and killed a man. Oh my God. He played 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 line up. 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 a pause for saying, like, I'm pretty sure. Yeah, but I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I just said 100 a pause for saying like, I'm pretty sure. Yeah, but I don't know.

I don't know. I 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 as yours? Yeah, it's not yours. He caught 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, remember when my mom thought about hitting him with her minivan, but her true crime, love, or brain said, don't do it. Good thing she didn't, because this loser liked to pretend to have medical problems. Oh my God. He claimed he was having a heart attack when he got arrested and was taken to the hospital and they said he was completely fine. So his ass was carted off to jail. 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 sewer 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 touched 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. Oh. 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 or 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 terrible.

No, thank you. All right, I got, listen to Tales, I was kidnapped by a lazy cheap skate who also took my tic-tacs. Damn, I, all right. Be so upset if that happens to me. Look at that. All right, hello, hello to the awesomeness 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 an N tell you my listener tale, but unfortunately, I'm always hit with the chronic bounce of procrastination. I feel you're the same. I have attached the pudefa and it's a double space for your reading comfort and pleasure. Let's take a breather before I go on rambling. LOL, my name's Gary, not really, but it is my urname 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 use 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 quarantine 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. Any who, 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 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. 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 tail. 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, see, see, love A. See, love A. I couldn't say that. I know, I know how to say that, but like looking at it,

I was like, how do I say that? See, love A. See, love A. Just got drunk really fast. Just remember the B-Witch song. Oh, Carl. That's a J-I-Love. See, love A.

See, love A. See, love A. See, love A. See, love A. See, love A. Okay, I'm That's a J. I love. I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you. I don't wanna get to my mother. Okay, I'm gonna 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. Sheesh, 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.

I didn't know that. I didn't either. This stems from the fact that a lot of big successful businessmen here are like 80-90% 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 they all, where all they have

are stalls and stalls of cheap items, like costume jewelry, clothes, bags, et cetera. We call them Tyinga. Right, I like it. Tyinga. There were my mom, 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 when I had already read teen and saw mom, when I looked back from the upper line, a teen mom, from season two. A teen cousin, and my second sister's nanny, mine stayed with my other sisters since she was sick at the time. When we arrived, my six year old brain was like, remember all the things that you see. So I did take note of where the car dropped us off, which entrance we used down to the location of the escalator.

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, I 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 any, 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. I grew up under a strict mom, so I know I had to stay close or else, LOL. When we finally moved on far enough, I just went with them. My older cousin, 17 female, gave me a pack bottle of whatever of tiktoks

to make me feel better. A few minutes later, my aunt told her to buy more for the rest of the kids. There were five kids, and my seven-year-old sister was the eldest. 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. Oh, no. He grabbed my hand firmly and pulled me toward the escalator. Before y'all roast me, stranger danger was not hammered in our head

since we lived in a small city, and we were always monitored monitored pretty hard growing up. Yeah, in your 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 Anne from school, and Stranger Danger was expected from us

as if it was common sense. We're not gonna teach you, we're just gonna 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. She's a six year old little baby and he's like, you stole jewelry. Yeah. 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. Kinapur 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 the dumb bum pooper realized 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 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 archa, archa, archa, archa, archa. Okay, hold on. Yeah, it's an archa, archa, archa, archa, archa. Right? Yeah, I think it is. I had to like go through it and I had archa, archa, archa. What's the other one that starts with P?

Not peninsula. Is it what the panjia? Oh, that, it just made me think of it. It was like, what, what? It's me think of it. It was like, what? Land. Just lay on the land. It was like, wait, what? It was like, where are we?

Where are we? Where are we? We're on 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, my Donna know, I think, back, sorry, back then was, well, let's just say there's

a lot of boom, boom, pow happening. He said, a few reasons. I got that. The way you write it's 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 was, 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 the jewel. So you got it. Coo-bon him. At that time, I didn't feel an ounce of fear at all. I cried pretty easily, but I was calm, 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 other people. Yes, that's what you did. and 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. 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. Oh, 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. Yes, it's your most prized possession. Yeah. I could only stare at the end of that corridor where unsuspecting people just went on about their day shopping while here I was, a kid left a banded

in a darkened, effing corridor. Oh my goodness. A security guard then walked by the entrance and managed to see me. I think he thought that I was with somebody and he didn't do anything. It wasn't until he passed by the second time that he approached me and asked if I was alone. 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 and 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 in 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. Naria care that I was missing. GURR! I mean, honestly, right? Right. Right. Anyway, kind manager guy in 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 them all 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 trouble. Oh my God. 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, read faced from a stolen tick-tack,

but otherwise fine. The whole I love that. Oh, 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 to my friends. 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, all alone. And didn't care. Like this guy just went about his day. Yeah, what a piece of shit. How do you just, that's the other thing. Like, what do you do after that? Yeah, like just, you just go to Wendy's? Get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get, get? You're worse. Like, get, 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 grilies, Hello Kitty Pulashees, and of course, mine was the most special. I love it.

Oh, and a few things to add. There was a lot of kidnappings at Chinese of Chinese Filipinos during that time. I was a second generation kidnappy. 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 phase me much anymore. LOL fortunately the crime weight 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 to of the other guy as it was happening. Whoa. Okay. P.S., I'm so sorry about Bailey Elena. Oh, I love 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 plan 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 tic-tacs, especially a freaking adorable little- Oh, my goodness. You are so fucking cute. You are so cute. Oh, my God, you're a little hair with like your scrunchies. And you're like, oh, 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 popping tic-tacs. Pop-a-bags. Oh, and I love your earrings. I'm glad I hope those are the ones you got to keep. Also the popping cake, gosh. Poppa Bings. Oh my goodness, so fruity. Cute. Wow. The fact that it's you.

That title really did just lay it out. I was kidnapped by a lazy cheapskate who also checked my tic-tacs. Like what the fuck? Man, I'm glad you got out of there because you're adorable and hilarious. Yeah. And 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 a little trigger warning.

This one does involve like an attempted sexual assault. Okay. Not like it. It does. Oh, man. 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?

Please. And I listen to you 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. Always. Always do. If you want to send in like a 10-page document with all your listeners, it could just be your listener. Oh yeah. We can just make it your listener,

we did that with Bradley. Mm, so. Yes, 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 the fact that I'm 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. I love cats. I love. Talking about axe throwing. I love that. They're a trip. They sound like a trip, I do.

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 gonna have to pause because a lot mower 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, she'll be named Ashat. I've met Ashat once before, briefly. He seemed fine, nothing out of the ordinary stuck out about him. He actually seemed kind of sweet and shy. 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. Taken me back. So I was 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 you to everyone who came. I like that you were just sitting in a chair. That's amazing. That's rad. That's like Queen Shit. And you're like, thanks. I like that you were just sitting in a chair. That's amazing. Rad. That's like Queen Shit.

And then you're like, thanks for coming. Yeah, thank you 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...

La-la-la-la. for a late night tipsy lala, for a late night tipsy chit chat. 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. See what 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 a jar about a foot wide. As I lay on my right side, I'm facing the door. Right as I hand up the phone, I see ass hat 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. Asad is still here. I don't know why. Nate is asking a 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, come on. X or not, come over.

This is where the trigger warning is sexual assault and attempted rape. Next thing I know, Asad 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 can 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. hoping he's just going to fall asleep or something. I don't know.

Then he starts touching me all over. Ugh. 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 get there. Like, what about that? You're rapist. Like, you're fucking this scar. You're 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. 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, why is that pertinent to the story, even if she was drunk? I wouldn't even factor into my brain.

He crawled into bed with her. So even if she was drunk, that actually makes it worse sometimes. 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 ass hat following, impossibly getting a gun before I do? Oh my God. 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. Like 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, well, Ashat was trying to force himself on to 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. Shove them 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 an 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 happens so fast. So there I am, in my underwear in 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, I'm sorry. Yeah, but the fuck you are, he closed the door. He opened it, turned around and said, I'm sorry. Yeah, but the fuck you are, he closed the door,

gotten his truck and left. I immediately locked the door. Once I heard him start to drive away, that's when it said in what had just happened. I started bawling, like scream crying. I've never cried so hard in my life and I didn't stop crying for hours and hours. I don't believe me.

I don't either. So 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, excuse me, and she didn't, I was like, uh-uh. First thing I was like, damn, that's a long time. You're fucking crazy. Damn, so cool.

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 theive the events, but I wanted Ashat 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 Ashat. Oh, 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 our detective will coach the victim on the questions to ask to try to get a confession out of the perpetrator. Now flash back to when I made my statement. I told the officer that Ashat never left my house

when all the party goers were leaving. I told the officer that I figured Ashat had hidden the back bedroom, that was to the right of the my bedroom. And waited until everyone left before coming out. Okay, back to the conversation call. The detective told me to ask, why did you hide in the bedroom while everyone was leaving? Ashat 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. Absolutely. Bullshit. That's it. So, you're probably wondering, was he waiting in the bedroom or not? I was wondering.

Well, a few days after the confrontation call, I went to my parents, 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. Ashat 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, like you didn't know this before

because then he could have gotten a break in church. Yeah. 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.

Geez. Unfortunately, the last window he checked, the window in the back bedroom was unlocked. That's how he got in. I told the detective she went out to my parents house and she checked it out but not much came of it. Not sure why to be honest. I have a protective order against him. I also received a phone call from the police department telling me that he broke his probation

several times. 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 asshat and ask for his PO's number. Oh, yeah. I'm not cool. Hi. Yes. Remember that time when you assaulted me and you're on probation? Yeah. But now can I have your probation, a professor's number? Real quick, thank you so much. Like he's gonna 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's 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 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 picks of my adorable cats. White one is Caffrey. I call him Caff.

Huh? Great 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, so we'll say that.

I'm obsessed the way he's holding you. What do I have? And those cats saved you. They saved you. They saved you because they needed to come out. I'm 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. Yeah. I can't imagine having to live through experience like that

and then have the guts to like tell it all over again. Yeah. Seriously. Whew. All right. I think we've got time for one more, listen to tale. And we're gonna do listener tale. You did from a fatal crash by an angel.

I prayed with my dad's killer. Wow. Holy canole. Holy canole is right. Holy, guacamole. Holy guacamole. It says, hey spooky booze, a obligatory gushing before the story, I-L-O-V-E-U-T.

I've been listening to morbid for years, and I am so excited, and I- I'm so excited to have so many new episodes coming out so frequently. Y'all are hashtag-killinit, 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 Instagram. And I squealed when I got my projected shipping date for my pre-ordered The Butcher in the Renn. What you can buy at The Butcher in the

Renn. Oh my god. Tinyherald.com slash The Butcher in the Renn. You got a Kruger, Target, or Walmart, or or BJ's or Costco question mark near you. Yeah. Pocca? Yeah. You're not sure. Why not? I don't know to be honest, but she's an airport.

Why not? 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 cool. So, fucking wrap. 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. Cool. Thanks for keeping company me keep. Oh my god, you're okay. Thank you for keeping. Thanks for keeping company me keep my 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. Mel function. 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 can't know. It's so easy to do, but you don't need to do that. No. We went back to their house to watch, but you don't need to do that. No. We went back to their house to watch a movie after dinner and left just before midnight.

We drove a Dodge caravan with the bench seats in the back, half-row in the middle, sea diagram. My dad was driving, my mom riding shotgun, and for some reason I decided to sit on the floor beside the half-bench and lean my head on the seat like nap time and class. Remember, it was midnight and I'd been traveling all day so I was tired.

As we got in, I heard my dad or my dad buckle his seat belt, my adolescent brain equated his need for safety to my own. So typically whenever he would buckle, I would too. But this night I didn't and it may have saved my life. Read. It definitely did. My brain said, it'll be fine. You don't need to get in the back seat and buckle.

It just relax, we'll be home soon You don't need to get in the backseat and buckle. It 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, you're studying? Baby brother was studying.

He was staying with my grandma, grams 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-world, 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 and the front seat. My dad slumped over onto my mom's side, both silo. Oh goodness. I sat up and I tried to shake my dad awake, but he didn't respond. I audibly heard he's not breathing, you need to get out. I stood up and remembered being I leveled the cup holders. Our van was on its side. Here is where the seat belt likely would have killed me if I'd been strapped in. Wow. I would have been crushed by the car seat and pinned the asphalt.

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.

He looked confused, but ushered me to the side of the road so that I was in that car. My parents are in there. He looked confused, but ushered me to the side of the road so that I was out of harm's way. Asked if I asked if I was hurt, but I couldn't be sure at this point. Later, I heard this officer say that there was a mist that came over the scene, and when it cleared, I was just standing in the middle of the road. 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 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, oh my God, you were 15. 15, your baby. Oh.

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 my goodness. I can't imagine. I told my, excuse me, I told them to call my uncle for my dad and my other grandma for my mom, not to call my grams because she had the baby and I didn't want her to worry. She stayed with me until the fire was out and the ambulance had arrived for me. Once I was in the ambulance, I succumbed to the shock and I blacked out. When I came to, I was in the emergency

room with my aunt and uncle around my bed. I wasn't sure what they were doing there since I had told the police to call them to go with my dad. The victim's advocate was there as well. She never left my side. I wish I could remember her name, but her face will stay with me always. They took me for a CT to be sure that I didn't have any internal injuries, but aside from a broken finger, a goose egg on my head from the unlatched car seat, and some scrapes and bruises. I was all right. A miracle considering that I lost my shoes somehow in the car, and apparently climbed up and out of the vehicle and walked across an entire

crash scene. Oh my god. This is like horrifying. When I was clear, she looked at my uncle, if he wanted to say it or if she, 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. My aunt called us and let us know that she was there waiting for her. That brought me comfort that my mom wasn't alone. I heard scuffling and arguing outside my curtain,

and apparently it was the driver of the truck that struck us. I wanted to run out of my bed and throttle him. Oh. I just learned my dad died and the man responsible was just out of reach, and the heart monitor let the nurses know that I knew. 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. Oh, my whole body just got chills. I just did that like warm woof. I was just charged, 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, oh my god. Oh, hold 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. I'm 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 teabonged 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. Oh. 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. Oh. The lyrics are,

there ain't no place I'd rather be next to you sitting next to me. Oh. 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 and due seizures and memory loss. Oh, I'm so sorry. I am too. The pawns gum that hit us that allowed me to clutch onto him and cry to the Lord to save my family was drunk. And doing, 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 0.164 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? 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 teased you and killed your father, like Jesus. And he, 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. There was an investigation and I identified him in a photo line up. 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 got punished at all. And continued to do it.

Killed a man and walked away from it. Almost killed an entire family. Yeah. One felt swoop. Like, killed a man, took away somebody's father and learned nothing from it. And then, like, the damage that their mom is living through, I just learned nothing from it.

Those are the biggest pieces of shit in the world, the ones who do this shit, and learn nothing. 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 dad a daddy proud. I just wish he'd be he'd have been here to walk me down the aisle to be 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 victim's 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. 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, keep it weird, but not so weird that you drive drunk and kill a father and try to comfort his daughter and get away with it and continue breaking the law because you're a trash human. I completely trash human. An absolute piece of shit.

Wow. Oh, that is gut wrenching. I'm so sorry that you went through that. Man. 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 wanna give you a hug. I know.

Like truly, there's so many of you on this episode. I just wanna 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 that you didn't, you know? Sometimes people say that. Yeah, like to write it out as 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, yes. If you listen to that episode, so my brother and my soon to be brother in law is a firefighter and his unit is gonna be hanging up lights for families that have had something happen to them. That's so amazing. It's so exciting. They already have one family.

Yeah. So if you're in the Massachusetts area, we're going to start working on getting it in a place here. Yeah, you can nominate people on the page. We'll link it in the show notes. We got a spread Katie's light. We've got it. 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 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. Hey, Prime Members! You can listen to morbid, early, and ad-free on Amazon Music. Download the Amazon Music app today, or you can listen ad-free with Wondery Plus and Apple podcasts. Before you go, tell us about yourself by completing a short survey at Wondery.com slash survey.