Episode Transcript
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SPEAKER_00 (00:00):
Some disappearances
feel like a mystery.
(00:02):
Some feel like a tragedy, butsome some feel like a question
that never stops asking.
This is one of those.
Welcome to Human Wreckage.
I'm your host and tonight.
(00:50):
Washburn, Maine.
Population barely two thousand.
A town surrounded by forests,farmland, silence, and the
unsolved disappearance of athirty-three year old mother of
four.
Her name was a teen shaw, thoughshe may never have truly left,
before the missing posters,before police searches and news
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coverage.
There was just a woman, not acase file, not a mystery, just a
tin.
She was born in Indonesia, theeldest daughter, responsible,
kind, deeply compassionate.
She fed stray dogs, she loveddrawing, and she dreamed of
seeing the world.
In her late twenties, she met aman named Michael, an American
(01:30):
teacher working in Jakarta.
They married, and over the nextfew years had four little boys.
Friends described her as sweet,gentle, a little shy until you
got to know her.
Then she would laugh easily,speak passionately, especially
about her children.
But life wasn't effortless.
Attin struggled with bipolardisorder.
She managed it, but like manypeople, had ups and downs.
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In stressful times, shesometimes needed space.
It would take a few days,withdraw.
But she always came back.
Always.
Until one day, she didn't.
In 2020, during the chaos of theglobal pandemic, the Shaw family
returned to the United States.
They didn't move to Boston orNew York.
Not even Portland.
(02:14):
They landed in Washburn, Maine.
It's quiet up here.
The kind of quiet that isbeautiful in the morning and
haunting at night.
They settled in a house onWashburn Road.
She did not have a car.
She did not drive.
She didn't have American friendsyet.
She was physically here, butemotionally, she was still
searching for a sense ofbelonging.
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In August of 2021, a monthbefore she vanished, she called
her sister back home.
She said, Maybe I'll find worksoon.
Something small, I think I'll beokay.
But something in her voice, hersister said, didn't sound okay.
That was the last time herfamily ever heard her voice.
September 8th, 2021.
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The last confirmed day anyonesaw or heard from 33-year-old
Atine Shaw, there were nodramatic events.
No public arguments, no knownplans to travel.
She didn't pack a bag.
She didn't call a friend.
She didn't take money.
She didn't even have a driver'slicense.
And yet, by sunset that day, shewas gone.
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No more phone use.
No social media.
No banking.
No photos.
No passport usage.
Just absence.
Here's a critical detail.
She wasn't reported missinguntil nearly three months later,
late November 2021.
Why?
According to her husband, hebelieved she had left
voluntarily, possibly for a job.
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He claimed at one point she mayhave joined a cruise ship, but
no ship name.
No paperwork.
No ticket.
No verification.
Authorities checked nationaldatabases.
No records.
No travel.
No cruise line employment.
Her passport silent.
She had vanished.
Without ever proving she left.
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In 2024.
Years after she vanished.
Maine State Police searched theShaw family home.
Not once.
Twice.
Detectives.
Evidence teams.
Specialists in forensic search.
But no findings have ever beenpublicly released.
Not a single suspect was named.
Not officially, anyway.
No charges.
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No arrest.
No answers.
But one very important fact.
The case is still active.
That means authorities don'tbelieve she simply walked away.
Voluntary disappearance.
Could she have simply walkedaway?
Possible, yes.
Likely, no.
No passport activity.
No social media.
No calls to her sons.
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No money spent.
No footprint of existence.
Even people who run away.
Leave tracks.
She didn't.
Accidental death.
Could she have walked into themain woods?
And never returned.
The forests in Washburn arevast.
Cold.
Unforgiving.
But she had no coat missing.
No supplies, no hiking history,no reason to walk into the
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woods.
Possible?
Yes.
But again, unlikely.
Foul play.
This is the theory that sits inthe shadows.
It whispers rather than shouts.
But whispers sometimes tell thetruth.
We don't know what happened.
But investigators now refer tothis as a criminal
investigation.
Which tells us something.
Even if they won't say it.
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Someone knows something.
Maybe someone in that house.
Maybe someone in that town.
Maybe someone is listening rightnow.
Her family still waits inIndonesia.
Her mother still calls herphone.
Just to hear it ring.
Her sister posts online everymonth.
We don't need an explanation.
Just give us her.
They have not given up.
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Neither should we.
Why this case matters.
This isn't just about one woman.
It's about the vulnerability ofimmigrants in isolated places.
The importance of earlyinvestigation.
The silence that can grow aroundmissing women.
Especially women far from home.
If you have any information, amemory, a rumor, a suspicion, no
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matter how small, call the MaineState Police, Major Crimes Unit
North.
1-800-432-7381.
Silence protects no one.
Someone knows something.
Because people don't justvanish.
Stories don't just end.
They're buried, waiting to befound.
Thank you for listening to HumanWreckage, where we tell the
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stories behind the vanished, thevoiceless, and the ones left
behind.
Until next time, take care ofone another.