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March 17, 2024 33 mins

Margaret reads you the first modern vampire, a parable about the dangers of the libertine royalty,

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Speaker 1 (00:01):
All Zone Media The Club book Club The Club. Hello
and welcome to Coo Zone Media Book Club. I'm your host,
Margaret Kiljoy. Every week I read you fiction. Sometimes those
stories are looking ahead into possible futures or to analyze
the present. Sometimes they take us into the past. This

week and next we're doing that the thing where we
want in the past. I'm convinced the past matters that
understanding how humans have thought and behaved in various times
and places and contexts is incredibly useful when it comes
to understanding how we behave now. Also, I just like
weird old shit, especially Gothic stuff. So this week we're

talking about the Vampire, not just a vampire, but a
story old enough that it was a best seller under
the name the Vampire, but with a y instead of
an eye and vampire before this story, which the stories
from eighteen nineteen, vampires were rarely aristocratic. They were Eastern
European folklore, not the heroes and villains of Romantic and

Gothic literature we know them as today. So this is
the story that all of that comes from. And it
was written by a man who's absolutely not famous, named
John Polidori, who was the personal physician to a man
who is famous, Lord Byron. There's a famous tale about
the summer of eighteen sixteen and how it birthed modern

speculative fiction. There's these three far left rich British people,
Mary Shelley, her husband, Percy Shelley, and their friend and
maybe Pollockule member, Lord Byron. They spent the summer of
eighteen sixteen in Switzerland, and eighteen sixteen was the year
without a summer because some volcanoes and shit, it was

super cold that year. Well we're going to miss that
year coming up anyway. So they're in this villa in
Switzerland and they stayed up late telling each other ghost stories.
Then they challenged one another to write ghost stories. Percy
wrote something kind of forgettable. Mary Shelley wrote Frankenstein, what's

often called the first work of science fiction. Lord Byron
he wrote a story that never quite went anywhere. He
didn't finish his homework, and it was called fragment of
a novel, which is obviously if you're I don't think
he called it that. I just that's what they had
to call it when they published it. Because Lord Byron's
famous enough that everything he wrote eventually got published. It's
about a nobleman traveling to the east with the intention

of eventually throwing a vampire into the story. But there
was a fourth person there in Switzerland. Actually there was
probably a ton of people there, But who cares about servants?
Am I right? John Polladori, the physician. He had been
traveling with Lord Byron. Some suggest the two were sleeping together.
Lord Byron at least was quite openly by well, he

was quite bisexual. That was repressed and hidden by history
for a long time, but he was pretty open about it.
Gay sex between the men was a capital crime in
England at the time, just part of why he stayed
away from England. If the two were dating, it was
a tempestuous relationship, if not honestly an abuse of one.
It sounds like Lord Byron did not treat Polodori well,

often mocking him and keeping him out of things and
complaining about his like you know, oh, Polardori is so vain,
and all historians are like, oh, Polodori is like so vain.
What a terrible and annoying person. And I'm like he
was under the employee of this man who was negging
him constantly, and they were possibly sleeping together. I'm going

to give John a lot of leeway here, but I've
only read so much about that relationship, so who knows.
I mean the people who wrote more about it no more,
although still it's all conjecture. So John Polodori he wrote
his own story, and it was his own version of

Lord Byron's story. This time it was about two men
traveling east. One is a charming, seductive man who drains
the energy from everyone around him, the other effectively his
thrall spoiler alert. The charming man is a vampire. It's
in the title of the story. I don't think I'm
ruining anything too much. And the thing is the vampire

Lord Ruthven is one hundred percent based on Lord Byron.
It's not subtle. It's not subtle to anyone at the
time either, because an ex lover, a woman this time,
had actually written a book about how shitty it was
to date Lord Byron already and use the name Ruthven
for Lord Byron's character, his like stand in character. This

is like how you be like, I don't know, like
salty to your exes at the time. If you're all
in the nobility of England. It's kind of fun. Polidori
finished his story, though, and to hear him tell it,
he never intended to publish it anywhere. How it wound

up on the desk of a disreputable publisher who put
it out with Lord Byron as the byeline, which was
almost certainly not the plan. It took a long time
to set the record straight, and the fallout destroyed Polodari's
reputation and functionally destroyed his life. He was accused of
plagiarism when he tried to claim authorship of his own

best selling book, and later when he a devout Catholic,
tried to join a monastery, he was turned away because
of his authorship of the Sordid and Bloody Vampire Story.
Within two years, Polodori was dead, most likely by suicide,
at the age of only twenty five years old. So

his parable about having the life sucked out of him
was proven true, and the metaphorical vampire Lord Byron might
not have been so metaphorical. After all, this is part
of my Lord Byron was the first vampire theory. See
the two part series that comes out I Guess Tomorrow.

If you're listening to this when it first comes out
about the Luodites in England who are happening around this time,
and how Lord Byron the Vampire was the only one
who defended them. So if you want to hear good
stuff about Lord Byron, you should listen to that episode. Anyway,
now you can listen to the story itself, So prepare

your ears for the Vampire. The Vampire by John Pollodori.
It happened that, in the midst of the dissipation's attendant
upon London winter, there appeared at the various parties of
the leaders of the ton, a nobleman more remarkable for
his singularities than his rank. He gazed upon the mirth

around him, as if he could not participate therein. Apparently
the light laughter of the fair only attracted his attention,
that he might buy a look, quell it, and throw
fear into those breasts where thoughtlessness reigned. Those who felt
the sensation of all could not explain whence it arose.
Some attributed it to the dead gray eye, which, fixing

upon the object's face, did not seem to penetrate, and
at one glance to pierce through to the inward workings
of the heart, but fell upon the cheek with a
leaden ray that weighed upon the skin it could not pass.
His peculiarities caused him to be invited to every house.
All wished to see him, and those who had been
accustomed to violent excitement and now felt the weight of nui,

were pleased at having something in their presence capable of
engaging their attention. In spite of the deadly hue of
his face, which never gained a warmer tint, either from
the blush of modesty or from the strong passion of emotion,
though its form and outline were beautiful, many of the
female hunters after notoriety, attempted to win his attentions and

gain at least some marks of what they might term affection.
Lady Mercer, who had been the mockery of every monster
shown in drawing room since her marriage, threw herself in
this way, and did all but put on the dress
of a mountebank to attract his notice, though in vain.
When she stood before him, though his eyes were apparently
fixed upon hers, still seemed as if they were unperceived.

Even her unappalled impudence was baffled, and she left the field.
But though the common adulteress could not influence even the
guidance of his eyes. It was not that the female
sex was indifferent to him. Yet such was the apparent
caution with which he spoke to the virtuous wife and
innocent daughter that few knew he ever addressed himself to females.

He had, however, the reputation of a winning tongue, and
whether it was that he even overcame the dread of
his singular character, or that they were moved by his
apparent hatred of vice, he was as often among those
females who formed the boast of their sex from their
domestic virtues as among those who sully it by their vices.

About the same time, there came to London a young
gentleman of the name of Aubrey, who was an orphan,
left with an only sister, in the possession of great
wealth by parents who died when he was yet in childhood,
left also to himself by guardians who thought it their
duty merely to take care of his fortune, while they
relinquished the more important charge of his mind to the

care of mercenary subalterns. He cultivated more of his imagination
than his judgment. He had, hence that high romantic feeling
of honor and candor, which daily ruined so many Milliner's apprentices.
He believed all to sympathize with virtue, and thought that
vice was thrown in by providence merely for the picturesque
effect of the scene, as we see in romances. He

thought that the misery of a cottage merely consisted in
the vesting of clothes which were as warm, but which
were better adapted to the painter's eye by their irregular
folds and various colored patches. He thought, in fine that
the dreams of poets were the realities of life. He
was handsome, frank, and rich for these reasons. Upon his

entering into the gay circles, many mothers surrounded him, striving
which should describe with least truth their languishing or romping favorites.
The daughters, at the same time, by their brightening countenances
when he approached, and by their sparkling eyes when he
opened his lips, soon led him into false notions of
his talents and his merit. Attached as he was to

the romance of his solitary hours, he was startled at
finding that, except in the tallow and wax candles that flickered,
not from the presence of a ghost, but from the
want of snuffing, there was no foundation in real life
for any of that congres of pleasing pictures and descriptions
contained in those volumes from which he had formed his study, Finding, however,

some compensation in its grafted vanity, he was about to
relinquish his dreams when the extraordinary being we have described
crossed him in his career. He watched him and the
very impossibility of forming an idea of the character of
a man entirely absorbed in himself, who gave few other
signs of his observation of external objects than the tacit

assent to their existence implied by the avoidance of their contact,
allowing his imagination to picture everything that flattered its propensity
to extravagant ideas. He soon formed this object into the
hero of a romance, and determined to observe the offspring
of his fancy rather than the person before him. He

became acquainted with him, paid him attentions, and so far
advanced upon his notice that his presence was always recognized.
He gradually learnt that Lord Ruthven's affairs were embarrassed, and
soon found from the notes of preparation in s blank Street.
There's this thing where old timey stories will like use
a series of dashes instead of giving a specific name.

Happening that he was about to travel, desirous of gaining
some information respecting his singular character, who till now had
only wetted his curiosity, he hinted to his guardians that
it was time for him to perform the tour which
for many generations had been thought necessary to engage the
young to take some rapid steps in their career of vice,

towards putting themselves upon inequality with the aged, and not
allowing them to appear as if fallen from the skies
whenever scandalous intrigues are mentioned as the subjects of pleasantry
or of praise, according to the degree of skill shewn
in carrying them on. They consented, and Aubrey, immediately mentioning
his intentions to Lord Ruthven, was surprised to receive from

him a proposal to join him. Flattered by such a
mark of esteem from him, who apparently had nothing in
common with other men, he gladly accepted it, and in
a few days they had passed the circling waters. But
you know what else passed the circling waters, which I
think means they went overseas to mainland Europe. All of

our advertisers, they are worldly. They too have been to Europe,
done a little bit of time backpacking around. In fact,
some of them might be vampires. If corporations have personhood
and survive after the death of individuals, are they not
the vampire? I don't. Here's events and we're back hitherto.

Aubrey had had no opportunity of studying Lord Ruthven's character,
and now he found that, though many more of his
actions were exposed to his view, the results offered different
conclusions from the apparent motives to his conduct. The companion
was profuse in his liberality. The idol, the vagabond, and
the beggar received from his hand more than enough to
relieve their immediate wants. But Aubrey could not avoid remarking

that it was not upon the virtuous, reduced to indigence
by the misfortune's attendant, upon every virtue that he bestowed
his alms. These were sent from the door with hardly
suppressed sneers. But when the prolificate came to ask something,
not to relieve his wants, but to allow him to
wallow in his lust, or to sink him still deeper
in his inequity. He was sent away with rich charity.

This was, however, attributed by him to the greater importunity
of the vicious, which generally prevails of the retiring bashfulness
of the virtuous indigent. There was one circumstance about the
charity of his lordship which was still more impressed upon
his mind. All those upon whom it was bestowed inevitably

found that there was a curse upon it, for they
were all either led to the scaffold or sunk the
lowest and most abject misery. At Brussels and other towns
through which they passed, Aubrey was surprised at the apparent
eagerness with which his companion sought for the centers of
all fashionable vice. There he entered into all the spirit

of the Pharoh table. He bedded and always gambled with success,
except where the known sharper was his antagonist, and then
he lost even more than he gained. But it was
always with the same unchanging face with which he generally
watched the society around. It was not, however, so, when
he encountered the wrath youthful novice, or the luckless father

of a numerous family. Then his very wish seemed fortune's law.
This apparent abstractedness of mind was laid aside, and his
eyes sparkled with more fire than that of the cat.
Whilst dallying with the half dead mouse in every town
he left the formerly affluent youth torn from the circle
he adorned, cursing in the solitude of a dungeon, the

fate that had drawn him within the reach of this fiend,
while many a father sat frantic amidst the speaking looks
of mute, hungry children, without a single farthing of his
late immense wealth wherewith to buy even sufficient to satisfy
their present craving. Yet he took no money from the
gambling table, but immediately lost to the ruiner of many

the last guilder he had just snatched from the convulsive
grasp of the innocent. This might be but the result
of a certain degree of knowledge which was not, however,
capable of combating the cunning of the more experienced. Aubrey
often wished to represent this to his friend, and begged
him to resign that charity and pleasure which proved the
ruin of all, and did not tend to his own profit,

but he delayed it for each day he hoped his
friend would give him some opportunity of speaking frankly and
openly to him. However, this never occurred. Lord Ruthven, in
his carriage, and amidst the various wild and rich scenes
of nature, was always the same. His eye spoke less
than his lip. And though Aubrey was near the object
of his curiosity, he obtained no greater gratification from it

than the constant excitement of vainly wishing to break that mystery, which,
to his exalted imagination began to assume the appearance of
something supernatural. They soon arrived at Rome, and Aubrey for
a time lost sight of his companion. He left him
in daily attendance upon the morning circle of an Italian countess,

whilst he went in search of the memorials of another
almost deserted city. While he was thus engaged, letters arrived
from England, which he opened with eager impatience. The first
was from his sister, breathing nothing but affection. The others
were from his guardians. The latter astonished him if it
had before entered into his imagination that there was an

evil power resident in his companion. These seemed to give
him sufficient reason for the belief. His guardians insisted upon
his immediately leaving his friend, and urged that his character
was dreadfully vicious, for that the possession of irresistible powers
of seduction rendered his licentious habits more dangerous to society.

It had been discovered that his contempt for the adulteress
had not originated in hatred of her character, but that
he had required to enhance his gratification that his victim,
the partner of his guilt, should be hurled from the
pinnacle of unsullied virtue down to the lowest abyss of
infamy and degradation. In fine, that all those females whom

he had sought, apparently on account of their virtue, had
since his departure, thrown every mask aside, and had not
scrupled to expose the whole deformity of their vices to
the public gaze. Aubrey determined, upon leaving one whose character
had not yet shown a single bright point on which
to rest the eye, he resolved to invent some plausible

pretext for abandoning him altogether, purposing in the meanwhile to
watch him more closely, and to let no slight circumstances
passed by unnoticed. He entered into the same circle and
soon perceived that his lordship was endeavoring to work upon
the inexperience of the daughter of the lady of whose
house he chiefly frequented. In Italy, it is seldom that

an unmarried female is met within society. He was therefore
obliged to carry on his plans in secret. But Aubrey's
eye followed him in all his windings, and soon discovered
that an assignation had been appointed which would most likely
end in the ruin of an innocent, though thoughtless girl.
Losing no time, he entered the apartment of Lord Ruthven

and abruptly asked his intentions with respect to the lady,
informing him at the same time that he was aware
of his being about to meet her that very night.
Lord Ruthven answered that his intentions were such as he
supposed all would have upon such an occasion, and, upon
being pressed whether he intended to marry her, merely laughed.

Aubrey returned hired and immediately writing a note to say
that from the moment he must decline accompanying his lordship
in the remainder of their proposed tour, he ordered his
servant to seek other apartments, and, calling upon the mother
of the lady, informed her of all he knew, not
only with regard to her daughter, but also concerning the
character of his lordship. The assignation was prevented. Lord Ruthven

next day merely sent his servant to notify his complete
ascent to a separation, but did not hint any suspicion
of his plans, having been foiled by Aubrey's interposition. Having
left Rome, Aubrey directed his steps towards Greece, and, crossing
the peninsula, soon found himself in Athens. He then fixed

his residence in the house of a Greek, and soon
occupied himself in trading the faded records of ancient glory
upon monuments that apparently ashamed of chronicling the deeds of freemen.
Only before slaves had hidden themselves beneath the sheltering soil
of many colored lichen. Under the same room, Phis himself
existed a being so beautiful and delicate that she might

have formed the model for a painter wishing to portray
on canvas the promised hope of the faithful in Mahamet's paradise,
save that her eyes spoke too much mind for anyone
to think she could belong to those who had no souls.
As she danced upon the plane or tripped along the
mountain side, one would have thought that the gazelle a
poor type of her beauties, for one would have exchanged

her eye, and apparently the eye of animated nature, for
that sleepy, luxurious look of the animal suited but to
the taste of an epicure the light step of Ianthe
often accompanied Aubrey in his search after antiquities, and often
with the unconscious girl engaged in the pursuit of a
cashmere butterfly, show the whole beauty of her form, floating

as it were, upon the wind, to the eager gaze
of him, who forgot the letters he had just deciphered
upon an almost effaced tablet, in the contemplation of her
sylph like figure of tresses falling as she flitted abound
exhibit in the sun's ray such delicately brilliant and swiftly
fading hues. It might well excuse the forgetfulness of the

antiquary who let escape from his mind the very object
he had before thought of vital importance to the proper
interpretation of a passage in the Pausaneus. But why attempt
to describe charms which all feel but none can appreciate?
It was innocence, youth, and beauty, unaffected by crowding, drawing
rooms and stifling balls. Whilst he drew those remains of

which he wished to preserve a memorial for his future hours,
she would stand by and watch the magic effects of
his pencil in tracing the scenes of her native place.
She would then describe to him the circling dance upon
the open plain would paint to him in all the
glowing colors of youthful memory, the marriage pump she remembered

viewing in her infancy, and then, turning to subjects that
had evidently made a greater impression upon her mind, would
tell him all the supern the natural tales of her nurse,
her earnestness, an apparent belief of what she narrated excited
the interest even of Aubrey, and often as she told
him the tale of the living vampire who had passed

years amidst his friends and dearest ties forced every year
by feeding upon the life of a lovely female to
prolong as existence. For the ensuing months, his blood would
run cold, whilst he attempted to laugh her out of
such idle and horrible fantasies. But ianthe cited to him
the names of old men who had last detected one

living among themselves after several of their near relatives and
children had been found marked with the stamp of the
fiend's appetite. And when she found him so incredulous, she
begged of him to believe her, for it had been
remarked that those who had dared to question their existence
always had some proof given, which obliged them with grief

and heartbreaking to confess it was true. She detailed to
him the traditional appearance of these monsters, and his horror
was increased by hearing a pretty accurate description of Lord Ruthven. He, however,
still persisted in persuading her that there could be no
truth in her fears, though at the same time he
wondered at the many coincidences which had all tended to

excite a belief in the supernatural power of Lord Ruthven,
who is capable of one of his superpowers, vampires, of
the superpowers of seamless ad transitions like this one, and

Rebecca Aubrey began to attach himself more and more to aanthe.
Her innocence, so contrasted with all the affected virtues of
the women among whom he had sought for his vision
of romance, won his heart. And while he ridiculed the
the idea of a young man of English habits marrying
an uneducated Greek girl, still he found himself more and

more attached to the almost fairy form before him. He
would tear himself at times from her, and forming a
plan for some antiquarian research. He would depart, determined not
to return until his object was attained. But he always
found it impossible to fix his attention upon the ruins
around him, whilst in his mind he retained an image

that seemed alone the rightful possessor of his thoughts. Ianthe
was unconscious of his love, and was ever the same frank,
infantile being he had first known. She always seemed to
part from him with reluctance, but it was because she
had no longer anyone with whom she could visit her
favorite haunts. Whilst her guardian was occupied in sketching or

uncovering some fragment which had yet escaped the destructive hand
of time. She had appealed to her parents on the
subject of vampires, and they both was several present, affirmed
their existence, hale with horror at the very name. Soon after,
Aubrey determined to proceed upon one of his excursions, which
was to detain him for a few hours. When they

heard the name of the place, they all at once
begged of him to not return at night, as he
must necessarily pass through a wood where no Greek would
ever remain after the day had closed. Upon any consideration,
they described it as the resort of the vampires in
their nocturnal orgies, and denounced the most heavily evils as

impending upon him who dared to cross their path. Aubrey
made light of their representations and tried to laugh them
out of the idea, But when he saw them shudder
at his daring thus to mock a superior infernal power,
the very name of which apparently made their blood freeze,
he was silent. Next morning, Aubrey set off upon his

excursion unattended. He was surprised to observe the melancholy face
of his host, and was concerned to find that his
words mocking the belief of those horrible fiends had inspired
them with such horror. When he was about to depart,
ianthe came to the side of his horse and earnestly
begged of him to return. Ere night allowed the power
of those beings to be put in action, he promised.

He was, however, so occupied in his research that he
did not perceive the daylight would soon end, and that
in the horizon there was one of those specks which,
in the warmer climates so rapidly gather into a tremendous
mass and pour all their rage upon the devoted country.
He at last, however, mounted his horse, determined to make
up by speed for his delay, but it was too late.

Twilight in these southern climates is almost unknown. Immediately the
sun sets, night begins, and ere he had advanced far.
The power of the storm was above its echoing thunders
had scarcely an interval of rest. Its thick, heavy rain
forced its way through the canopying foliage, whilst the blue
forked lightning seemed to fall and re eighty eight at

his very feet. Suddenly, his horse took fright, and he
was carried with dreadful rapidity through the entangled forest. The animal,
at last, through fatigue, stopped, and he found by the
glare of lightning that he was in a neighborhood of
a hovel that had hardly lifted itself up from the
masses of dead leaves and brushwood which surrounded it. Dismounting,

he approached, hoping to find someone to guide him to
the town, or at least trusting to obtain shelter from
the pelting of the storm. As he approached, the thunders
for a moment silent allowed him to hear the dreadful
shrieks of a woman, mingling with the stifled exultant mockery
of a laugh, continued in one almost unbroken sound. He

was startled but roused by the thunder, which again rolled
over his head. He, with a sudden effort, forced open
the door of the hut. He found himself in utter darkness.
The sound, however, guided him. He was apparently unperceived, for
though he called still, the sounds continued and no notice
was taken of him. He found himself in contact with

someone whom he immediately seized when a voice cried again, baffled,
to which a loud laugh seceded, and he felt himself
grappled by one whose strength seemed superhuman. Determined to sell
his life as dearly as he could, he struggled, but
it was in vain. He was lifted from his feet
and hurled with enormous force against the ground. His enemy

threw himself upon him, and, kneeling upon his breast, had
placed his hands upon his throat. When the glare of
many torches penetrating through the hole gave light in the
day disturbed him. He instantly rose, and, leaving his prey,
rushed through the door, and a moment the crashing of
the branches as he broke through the wood was no

longer heard. The storm was now still, and Aubrey, incapable
of moving, was soon heard by those without. They entered.
The light of their torches fell upon the mud walls
and thatch loaded on every individual's straw with heavy flakes
of soot. As the desire of Aubrey, they searched for her,
who had attracted him by her cries. He was again

left in darkness, But what was his horror when the
light of those torches once again burst upon him to
perceive the airy form of his fair conductress brought in
in a lifeless course. He shut his eyes, hoping that
it was but a vision arising from his disturbed imagination.
But again he saw the same form when he unclosed them,

stretched by his side, there was no color upon her cheek,
not even upon her lip. Yet there was a stillness
about her face that seemed almost as attaching as the
life that once dwelt. There. Upon her neck and breast
was blood, and upon her throat were the marks of teeth.
Having opened the vein to this, the men pointed, crying. Simultaneously,

they struck with horror. A vampire, A vampire. A litter
was quickly formed, and aubrey was laid by the side
of her, who had lately been to him the object
of so many bright and fairy visions. Now fallen with
the flower of life that had died within her. He
knew not what his thoughts were. His mind was benumbed

and seemed to shun reflection and take refuge in vacancy.
He had almost unconsciously in his hand a naked dagger
of particular construction, which it had been found in the hut.
They were soon met by different parties who had been
engaged in the search of her, of her whom a
mother had missed. Their lamentable cries as they approached to

the city for warned the parents of some dreadful catastrophe.
To describe their grief would be impossible. But when they
ascertained the cause of their child's death, they looked at
Aubrey and pointed to the course. They were inconsolable. Both
died broken hearted. And that's the end of part one.

In part two, what will happen? Okay? I will say
though I'm reading this for yeah, probably the fourth time
or something, and just thinking about what caused this story
to be written, and like, what just happened? All right,
here's my money. I bet that John Polodari had a
threeesome with some with Lord Byron and some girl that
he liked, and then was like, I have sullied her,

I have ruined her. I am so guilty. You know.
I have a feeling that it's just kind of like
someone who is not a libertine being really upset by
the actions of libertines. And it really, you know, this
idea that the vampire is this figure that is going
to like destroy the beautiful, innocent young girl is like, well,

it's such like groomer rhetoric, right, it's so reflected in
modern you know, destroying the virtue of whatever. And I
don't know, it's just interesting to me. I hope it's
interesting to you too. And what will happen? What's going
to happen is Lady Love lies dead. The woman that
he was objectifying for her beauty is now dead. What

will happen? Find out next week on cool Zone Media
book Club. It Could Happen Here as a production of
cool Zone Media. For more podcasts from cool Zone Media,
visit our website coolzonemedia dot com, or check us out
on the iHeartRadio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you listen
to podcasts. You can find sources for It Could Happen Here,
updated monthly at coolzonemedia dot com slash sources. Thanks for listening.

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Current and classic episodes, featuring compelling true-crime mysteries, powerful documentaries and in-depth investigations.

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