September 24, 2025 • 51 mins
Become a supporter of this podcast: https://www.spreaker.com/podcast/nighttime-scary-tales--6704938/support.
Welcome to another episode of the Nighttime Scary Tales Podcast, where we explore the dark side of storytelling. Tonight, prepare for spine-chilling tales featuring original horror stories, eerie supernatural encounters, and real-life crime that reveals the darker aspects of human nature. Each story is designed to keep you on the edge of your seat long after it ends. We’d love to hear your thoughts! Share your most chilling moments by leaving a review on your favorite podcast platform. More haunting stories are coming, so keep your lights on and your doors locked. Sweet dreams… if you can find them!
Welcome to another episode of the Nighttime Scary Tales Podcast, where we explore the dark side of storytelling. Tonight, prepare for spine-chilling tales featuring original horror stories, eerie supernatural encounters, and real-life crime that reveals the darker aspects of human nature. Each story is designed to keep you on the edge of your seat long after it ends. We’d love to hear your thoughts! Share your most chilling moments by leaving a review on your favorite podcast platform. More haunting stories are coming, so keep your lights on and your doors locked. Sweet dreams… if you can find them!
Mark as Played
Transcript
Episode Transcript
Available transcripts are automatically generated. Complete accuracy is not guaranteed.
Speaker 1 (00:14):
I've been working as a security guard at this factory
complex in Detroit for about six months now. It's not
the best job, but it pays okay and keeps the
bills covered. I sit most of the time watching cameras,
making sure nobody's sneaking around where they don't belong. It's
quiet most nights, just me and a bunch of empty buildings.
I've been doing the overnight shift ten p m To
(00:36):
six a m. Since I started. It's rough on sleep,
but I manage the Factory's an old place used to
make auto parts back in the day. Most of it's
empty now, just a few buildings still running, and at
night it's all shadows and echoes with rats scurrying around.
Sometimes I start my shift checking the doors, making sure
(00:56):
they're locked up tight, and then I settle into the
security office, sipping coffee and watching the camera feeds. Every
couple of hours, I do a walk around, shine my
flashlight into the dark corners, and to be honest, it's boring,
but it's money. But one night, though, everything went bad.
(01:16):
It was cold Michigan cold, the kind that gets into
your bones, and I was on my third cup of
coffee feeling tired because I hadn't slept good the day before,
and I was staring at the screens when I saw
something on camera three out by the back loading dock.
It looked like a shadow moving quick, sneaky, and I
leaned closer, squinting, but it was too dark to tell.
(01:39):
I remember thinking at first that it could have been nothing,
but I saw it again, darting across the feed, and
I just kind of sighed, grabbed my flashlights and my
jacket and headed out. The factory's amaze at night, big
old buildings with alleys between them. I shined my light around,
checking the loading dock. The door was shut, no sign
(02:01):
of anyone breaking in, and then I walked over to
the fence and saw it was intact with no holes.
I figured maybe it was just wind blowing trash around,
and I was about to head back when I heard
something like a snicker, real quiet. I froze, listening hard,
and then out of the shadows they came at me.
(02:23):
There were four or five of them, all wearing masks
like Halloween or something like that, and they were younger,
I could tell by how they moved, very jumpy and
full of energy, like kids hyped up on sugar. One
of them shoved me hard and I stumbled back, almost
dropping my flashlight. And before I could even really work
out what was happening, another one of them punched me
(02:44):
in the gut so hard it knocked the wind out
of me. I doubled over, gasping, and then they were
all on me, hitting and kicking like a pack of
wild animals. I tried to fight back, even swung my
flashlight at one of them, but they were too fast.
Some one grabbed it and tossed it away before another
kid punched me in the face and I felt my
(03:05):
nose crack and I could feel blood starting to come down.
I could taste it in my sinuses. I tried to yell,
but they kept hitting me, knocking me off my feet
over and over. Someone kicked my legs out and I
went down hard, pain shooting through my knees and hands
as I hit the gravel, but they didn't stop there.
(03:27):
Kicks landed on my ribs, my back, my arms. I
curled up, trying to cover my head, but it didn't
do much good. The pain was everywhere, and I could
hear them laughing loud and crazy, like it was some
type of game. It was sick the way they enjoyed it.
They acted like kids, but mean ones, the kind that
had pulled wings off of flies just to watch them squirm,
(03:50):
And that scared me more than the pain, the way
they didn't care, the way they seemed to like it.
And this went on for what felt like hours, though
it ben and finally one of them smashed me in
the head. And that's really when everything went black, just
a sudden nothing, like someone flipped a switch. And when
(04:11):
I woke up, I was still dark and still cold.
I was laying on the ground, my face pressed into
the gravel. My head was pounding, and my mouth still
tasted like blood. I tried to move, but my whole
body screamed at me. My ribs felt like they were burning,
and my hands wouldn't work right, and I spat out
blood and some pieces of my teeth. They'd mess me
(04:34):
up bad. I didn't know how long i'd been out.
Those kids were gone, no sign of them. My clothes
were torn, and my shoes were missing, and must have
taken them air Jordan's ninety six. I felt for my
wallet and it was still in my pocket. Guess they
didn't want money, just wanted to hurt me. I got
(04:54):
to my feet, slow and shaky, dizzy as hell, and
every step hurt. But I leaned against the wall and
started stumbling back to the office. I kept tripping, my legs, weak,
my ribs, stabbing me with every breath, But finally I
made it to the security office, fell into the chair
and grabbed the phone. My hands were shaking so bad
(05:15):
I could hardly down nine one one. I mumbled something
about being attacked and gave them the address, and then
I just sat there waiting, trying not to pass out again.
The paramedics showed up pretty quickly. The lights were flashing,
and they loaded me onto a stretcher and they asked
me what happened, but my jaw hurt way too much
(05:36):
to even really talk at that point. They took me
to the hospital and I spent a few days there
all bandaged up. Doc said that I had broken ribs,
a concussion, fractures in my fingers, and a busted up face.
I even pulled out some teeth and gave me some
pain killers and said that I was lucky that it
wasn't worse. But I didn't feel very lucky though. The
(05:57):
cops came by while I was resting, two of them,
one older guy and one younger. They asked me to
describe the attackers, but I didn't have much to give.
Masks covered their faces and it was dark. I told
them they were young, fast, laughing like maniacs, but that
was it. They wrote it down and said they'd look
into it, but I don't think I ever heard from
(06:18):
them again. I guess I knew they wouldn't find those kids.
There are too many shadows in Detroit to hide in.
And after a few days they let me go home.
I was still hurting and I couldn't do much but
sit around. Couldn't work, that's for sure. I had two
kids depending on me, and I didn't know how I
was going to pay those bills. My daughter, she's eight,
(06:38):
cried when she saw me all banged up. My son, twelve,
tried to act tough, but I could tell he was shook.
I told them that I had an accident at work
and didn't want them to be scared, knowing the actual truth.
My sister helped out, coming over with food and changing
my bandages, and she's a nurse, so she didn't know
what to do. I hated needing her like that, though,
(06:59):
but I couldn't manage alone. Getting out of bed was
a fight every day. My ribs ached, my hands didn't
grip right with those broken fingers, and I felt useless,
like I couldn't even take care of myself, let alone
my kids. I kept thinking about that night over and over.
Why'd they do it just for kicks? I ain't never
(07:20):
hurt nobody, and I only was just doing my job.
It just didn't make any sense. My boss called and
said that they were sorry it happened, said they'd add
more security, maybe another guard, and it didn't make me
feel much better. The other guards, when I finally went back,
clapped me on the shoulder and said that they were glad.
I was okay, but I saw the worry in their eyes.
(07:41):
Nobody wanted to think it could be them next. The
cops never caught those kids and probably never will, and
it tears me up to think that they got away
clean and I'm stuck with these scars. I just ain't right,
But what can I do? Life ain't fair, I guess,
and I'm more careful now, always looking around expecting trouble,
and maybe that's good, keeps me sharp, but It also
(08:04):
showed me how quick things can go bad and how
you can't always stop it. I just keep going for
my kids, for myself, and I guess there ain't no
other choice. I grew up in Modesto in the nineteen eighties,
(08:28):
and honestly, I fell in with a kind of bad crowd.
I had a couple of friends end up in jail.
I had a couple end up in the ground too,
But it was the ones that said enough is enough
that I really admired, the ones that got out. Before
the life we lived became an anchor around our necks.
I decided to clean myself up, and since driving was
(08:49):
kind of my thing, I figured that I'd get a
job at a cab company so I could earn an
honest living while still driving around the city that I
knew and loved. By nineteen ninety one, I was twenty
four and I've been taking fares around Modesto for almost
two years. It was a hell of a job, let
me tell you. And every so often I got a
real character in the back of my cap, like this.
(09:12):
One time, I had this raspy voiced little guy flag
me down, and when I asked him his story, it
turned out he was Sunny Barger, a founding member of
the Hell's Angels. I asked why he wasn't on his bike,
and he looks me dead in the eye through my
rear view and says, because I've had fourteen beers five
shots of tequila and I'm too goddamn old to spend
(09:33):
the night in jail. I laughed my ass off with
the guy, and he was a great tipper too, So
shout out to the Hell's Angels, I guess, but not
everyone was so cool or entertaining. In fact, I picked
up one or two passengers in my time that got
me in a hell of a lot of trouble, and
this is one of them. So it was August second
(09:53):
of nineteen ninety one, around eight thirty at night, because
the sun had just gone down, and I was driving
down the Avenue of to take the one o eight
toward downtown. It was a Friday, so I knew I
was in for a busy night, and I was just
about to take my turn when I saw a girl
standing at the side of the road sticking her thumb
out to passing cars. My first thought was, it is
(10:15):
not the time to be hitchhiking. Out here because Fridays
and Saturdays always got a little crazier when the sun
went down. So I pulled over next to her, honked
my horn, and then when she came up to my
driver's side I didn't even get to ask where she
was headed before she said something like I don't got
any money, sorry, I just really need a ride. And
(10:35):
from the sound of her voice how shaky it was,
I could tell that she'd been crying. So rather than
just drive off like some jerk, I told her to
hop in and that I'd give her a free ride.
She responds with, oh my god, really, oh, thank you
so much, very grateful, and that it sounds like she's
going to start crying again. So she hops in the
(10:57):
back of my cab and she tells me that she
must go to the airport. I tell her my name,
then ask her what hers is, and then as we're driving,
I start asking if she's okay, and that I know
you're not, but asking what's wrong is too forward kind
of way. She tells me she's just ended things with
her boyfriend of three years and that she's headed to
the airport to catch a plane to Florida, which was
(11:19):
where her grandparents lived. I told her how sorry I was,
but that she'd be surprised to know just how many
young women like her I gave rides to on a
weekly or sometimes even daily basis. It's a sad fact
of life that relationships sometimes fall apart, and when they do,
someone usually pulls the old Hail Mary, full of grace,
(11:39):
get me out of this goddamn place. And that's where
yours truly comes in. She didn't laugh, but I didn't
expect her to either, So after my dumb attempt at humor,
I started saying how happy I was to lend an
ear if she wanted someone to talk to. She had
to get herself together a little before she started talking,
and she was a slow starter too, who just didn't
(12:01):
know where to begin, I guess. But once she got going,
she got going. So I shut up, let her talk
and listened to her story. She moved to California from
the East Coast for college, met her boyfriend during her
junior year, then moved in with him after she graduated
and needed a place to stay. She said when they met,
he'd been the perfect gentleman. He'd supported her emotionally through
(12:24):
those final two years of college, then financially for a
while too. After she graduated and was looking for a job.
He'd always been kind and patient with her, but then
over time, while she was still trying to find work,
he started to change. He got less and less patient
and more and more mean. They never used to fight
it all, then over time it got to the point
(12:45):
they were fighting two or three times a week. She said.
The field she wanted to work in was very competitive,
and then while she was working her butt off sending
out resumes and making calls, she wasn't having any luck.
But then the longer that went on, the more impatient
her boyfriend was getting, and over time it became this
huge source of tension that she wasn't contributing at all.
(13:08):
She said, she was looking for waitress jobs and stuff
right at the time they had their huge break up fight.
By then her boyfriend wasn't interested. He told her to
pack her bags, started throwing some of her stuff around.
Then things started to escalate. The fight ended violently before
she ran out of the house with her suitcase all packed.
My dad used to get violent with my mom before
(13:30):
he walked out on her. So as soon as she
said that last thing, I was ready to drive back
to where she'd come from and give her ex an
ass kicking. Before driving her back to the airport, I
told her I was sorry things ended that way, then
asked if she was all right, if she needed me
to take her to the hospital first thing or anything
like that. She said no, that he hadn't really hurt her.
(13:53):
But then I asked if she wanted me to stop
so she could call the cops, and for the first time,
she gave me this immediate, desperate reply of no. And
that was the first warning sign right there, the thing
that made me think that I might have seriously misjudge
the situation in front of me. I told her that
if he'd hit her or broke any of her stuff,
(14:14):
then it was important to report that sort of stuff
to the cops so that they at least had it
on record, But she insisted I'd just drive her to
the airport so she could leave to go with her grandparents.
At the time, I understood the impulse, or at least
I thought I did. The poor girl just went through
something traumatic. She didn't want to hang around going over
a play by play with a bunch of bozos. She
(14:36):
just wanted to get away from it, But like I said,
there was something about that no that sounded a little
too desperate. I asked if she did anything like hit
him back, and that's why she wasn't so focused on
talking to the law. But I was also quick to
reassure her that the cops would consider anything she did
in self defense to be just that self defense. She
(14:58):
started saying how they wouldn't see it that way, but
when I asked why not, she straight up snapped at me.
She says, because they won't. All right, how can you
just take me to the airport. I'm begging you. She
started off all cold and angry, but by the time
she got to the I'm begging you part, she was
(15:20):
back to sounding like a scared little girl again. I
guess that tugged at my heart strings enough for me
to back down a little, just not quite enough for
me to drop it all together. I kept quiet for
a moment or two, gave her some time to breathe,
and suggested if her ex had done something like hit her,
then the best revenge would be having him spend a
(15:40):
night in the cell. And then she muttered that's not
going to happen. I didn't see it for what it was,
so I followed up with something like, are you really
gonna let this piece of trash? Do you like this?
That's when she said, with this heavy tone of voice
that set the hairs on the back of my neck
on end, He's not going to do anything to anyone anymore. Bingo.
(16:07):
Their fight had ended in violence, all right, but not
with this girl's ex smacking her around. It ended with
her doing something to him. In the way she said
that last thing about him not doing anything anymore, it
made me think she'd done more than just slap him
or whatever. I started saying something like, miss, if you
(16:30):
did something something bad, I gotta let you out of
the cab. Otherwise you're making me an accessory to whatever's
going on. I didn't know if that was one hundred
percent true at the time, but i'd heard it was
and that was enough for me, so that's what I said.
I also added that if all she did was toss
a lamp at him or something like that to keep
(16:52):
him away from her, than whatever, I'd take her to
the airport. But if she did something else, as she
left him bleeding somehow and in need of a hospital,
and that was another story. As I waited for her answer.
I heard her rustling around in the back. My eyes
darted up to the rear view, and I saw her
reaching into her jacket. Seconds before I heard the distinct
(17:14):
click of a handgun being armed. I've been robbed three
times in two years by that point, so I knew
that sound well enough to know that the girl I
first thought was the innocent victim of domestic abuse had
just pulled a gun on me in the back seat.
I remember how the words, well, they're miss there's no
(17:35):
need to do anything rash came out of my mouth
without me even trying to speak. Then that same shaky,
teary eyed sound returned to her voice as she said,
just take me to the airport. I don't want to
do anything to you, so please don't make me. I
just want to get out o here. I didn't ask
(17:56):
her anything else. I wanted to, Good Lord, I wanted to,
but I valued my life far more than I valued
getting any more answers. I figured there might be a
chance there was a dude out there someplace, lying on
his kitchen floor bleeding to death with a bullet in
his gut. Maybe a scumbag who hit his girl did
deserve to suffer a little, but I don't believe in
(18:18):
the death penalty. I wanted to know more than anything
if some por son of a bitch was crawling around
in the pile of his own blood and poop, because
God knows, I'd want someone to call me an ambulance
if i'd heard about it. I did end up calling someone,
but that came later, and I guess I should just
get on with the story. So I just drove, not
(18:39):
saying a goddamned word because I was terrified and I'm
not afraid to say it. This girl had all but
admitted to shooting a man, and I had this creeping
feeling she might do it again if it meant not
being able to get to her grandparents. That's even if
there were any grandparents, because if that were me, I'd
be thinking more about some place in South America than
(19:00):
heading the Florida. I drove her all the way to
the airport, not saying a word. Then when we got
close to the little drop off point, the girl told
me to stop the car and that she'd walk the
rest of the way. I did as she asked, stop
the car, and the darkness away from the crowd of
people getting in and out of cars, and then she
asked me to turn off the engine and hand over
(19:21):
my keys. I figured she wasn't about to shoot me,
not close enough to all those people for them to
hear the gunshots. So at first I said I can't
do that, miss I got to make a living. But then,
in a way that made my blood run cold as
ice in my veins, I think she showed me the
real her. For a second, I'd kinda half turned my
(19:44):
head as I told her I didn't want to give
her my keys, and I was about to tell her
how I wouldn't say a word to anybody when she
stuck the barrel of that gun right in my face.
And when I say she stuck it in my face,
I don't mean she just pointed it at me. I
mean she shoved the muzzle into the skin of my
temple so hard it hurt, and then told me give
(20:05):
me your keys. I had one last bit of resistance
in me, one last appeal to her good nature, and
I tried to tell her, you can't just take away
a man's means of making money. How am I supposed
to feed my kids if I can't drive my cab?
I didn't have any kids at the time, but I've
said it just about anything to keep a hold of
(20:27):
my keys, because I wasn't kidding when I said I
needed them to make a living. But she didn't even
let me get past you can't before she exploded about
how I wasn't allowed to tell her anything, how all
men were the same, thinking they could control every woman,
and how this one wasn't going to let that happen.
She then repeated that I was to give her my
keys or I wouldn't be going home to see my
(20:50):
non existent kids that night, or any night for that matter.
I'm not stupid. I knew the best thing to do
from there on out was to shut the effort up
and do as she told me. So I handed over
my keys, watched her climb out of my cab before
she dragged her suitcase out behind her, and then as
she walked off towards the terminal with that same poor
(21:11):
me attitude she'd had when I first saw her, I
waited till she was out of sight, then rushed towards
the terminal to where the payphones were, and then called
nine to one one looking over my shoulder the whole time,
I knew there might be airport security inside the terminal,
but I also knew the girl would not be too
happy to see me there, and I didn't want to
risk getting shot when I could just call the cops
(21:33):
from outside the building. I wasn't going anywhere that girl
had my keys, so I had to just sit outside
the terminal and wait for the cops to show up.
But by the time they did, the girl had put
herself on the first flight to the Bahamas or wherever
she went, having obviously gotten rid of that gun somehow,
but not my car keys. I had to get some
(21:56):
help jump starting my cab just to get home, and
then my cab was based out of action until the
company could get a new key shipped to them. But
I had my life, a man, did that feel like
something special after having that crazy bitch in my back seat.
(22:20):
I used to be the area manager for a small
chain of late night diners here in Minnesota, and of
all the strange incidents in my career, this was the
most frightening. I wasn't not the diner the night it happened,
but two of my employees were. It was a small
spot just off the highway Open twenty four hours, and
surrounded by a field, some woods, and a very lonely
(22:41):
stretch of road. Jenny and Mike had both been there
for years when it happened, but after that night they
both quit and didn't tell anyone but the cops what
had happened. All I had to piece together was the
security footage and a few vague hints from the police,
and years later, I still think about what I saw
on what I'll never figure out. I remember it being
(23:02):
one of those brutal winter nights, the kind where the
wind must have been rattling the diner like it was
trying to get inside for a bowl of hot dish.
Mike was our cook, a solid worker in his forties
with a wife and two kids, who worked the night
shift for the extra cash. Jenny was the waitress, a
single mom in her twenties who was sharp as a
knife and great with crowd control on her busier nights.
(23:25):
They were reliable, the kind of employees you could trust,
but who could handle themselves too. But that night something
walked into the diner that nothing could have prepared them for.
I was at home sleeping when a phone call woke
me up. The moment they said it was the police.
It was like half a dozen espressos hit me all
(23:45):
at once, and I listened as they said there had
been an incident at the diner and how they needed
access to the office so they could review the security tape.
They didn't elaborate, they just said that it was bad
and that Mike and Jenny were involved. I dragged myself
out of bed and my stomach was all knotted up
with worry, and then I drove through the snow with
(24:06):
my head spinning with questions. Was it a robbery two
groups of drunk customers who had started a brawl, or
was it something more serious. By the time I got there,
I had a whole bunch of different theories already laid out.
But what I saw on that tape was something a
whole lot worse than anything I'd expected. When I arrived
(24:27):
at the diner, an officer in uniform was waiting for me,
and then I led him to a cramped back office
with an old, beat up TV and a dusty VHS player.
He said he'd needed to take the tape with him
as evidence, but he also asked if we could watch
it first, just so he had a better idea of
what had taken place. I said, sure, rewound the tapes
(24:47):
to the time he requested, two thirty a m. And
then after I pressed play, it came alive on the screen.
It was quiet out front, with Mike in the kitchen
scrubbing down the counters and Jenny out front wiping down
tables in the dim light. Then the door swung open
and two men walked in. They were maybe late twenties
(25:07):
or early thirties, dressed in faded jeans and thick jackets.
But it wasn't their coats that sent my nerves on edge.
It was their faces. One had a tattoo on his
neck that ran up onto his face, and the other
had these cold, very hollow eyes that didn't seem to blink.
They acted calm at first, like they were just a
(25:27):
couple of drifters who wanted a burger. They slid on
the stools of the counter and Jenny took their order.
Mike cooked with his back to them. Then Jenny brought
the plates out. They kept to themselves while they ate,
heads down and not doing much talking. I kept hoping
that they'd finish and leave, only obviously they didn't. Out
(25:48):
of nowhere, the one with the face tattoo reached into
his hoodie and pulls out a handgun. The other followed,
drawing his own before they each aimed at Mike and Jenny,
who froze mid motion like deer caught in head lights.
Jenny's eyes went wide and her face went slack. Her
mouth was wide open, like a scream was just stuck
(26:09):
in her throat. Mike's hands jerked up, trembling so bad
that I could even see it in that terrible footage,
and the two men didn't rush with their guns. They
motioned for Mike and Jenny to come out from behind
the counter. They stumbled forward on shaky legs, with Jenny
clutching the edge of the counter for a second before
letting go. The two men then herded them to the
(26:33):
back toward the walk in fridge, and I figured they'd
locked them inside before raiding the register in the safe,
but instead, after shoving Mike and Jenny inside, they stepped
in after them and pulled the heavy door shut behind them.
The camera stayed on that closed door, and it stayed
closed for five, then ten, then twenty solid minutes, and
(26:57):
I had to fast forward the tape a bunch of times,
Darting and stopping, but still the door stayed closed. As
my mind started to tick over, asking questions like why
go inside with them? And what the hell are they
doing in there? I pictured Mike and Jenny in that
freezing cold walk in. Thirty seven minutes is a long
time to be trapped with two armed strangers in a
(27:18):
box you can't escape, And the longer I watched, the
worse that feeling of dread got in me. My mind
started trying to fill in the blanks. Maybe they were
threatening them while holding the guns to their heads, making
them do things so unthinkable I can't even name them.
The walk in was big, but only by fridge standards.
There was barely room for four people standing up. Were
(27:41):
they standing there shivering? Too scared to do anything but
what they were being told? But the tape gives me
no clues. Finally, exactly thirty seven minutes after the door
to the walk in closed behind them, it opened up again.
The two men stepped out, completely relaxed, like they just
finished a bathroom break. The one with a face tattoo
(28:03):
tugged his hoodie straight while the others scanned the room
with those two empty eyes of his. And then they
strolled back through the diner, not even glancing at the
safe back in the office or cash register stuffed with bills.
They didn't take a damn thing, not a dime, not
a burger, nothing. They headed for the door, moving casually
(28:23):
like they'd done what was the most normal thing in
the world. Then they slipped out, climbed into a dark
car parked just out of frame, and vanished into the
snowy night. I sat there with a police officer standing
next to me, and I remember my hands being clammy
and how my heart thudded hard and fast in my chest.
(28:43):
They didn't steal anything. They held two people at gunpoint
for over half an hour in a freezing walk in
and walked away empty handed, Or at least that was
what it looked like on the surface. But why what
did they do to Mike and Jenny? In there? And
the tape rolled on? About fifteen minutes later, one of
(29:04):
our regulars shuffled in, a trucker who always came in
for coffee at odd hours. He looked around at the
empty diner with his coat all dusted with snow, and then,
after a few minutes of waiting around, he wandered behind
the counter probably wondering where the hell everyone was. He
did the same thing in the back, just sort of
wandered around shyly for a few minutes, and then after
(29:25):
maybe ten to fifteen minutes of checking absolutely everywhere but
the walk in, he cracked it open and looked inside.
He could see the exact moment that he saw something
inside the walk in, because he pulls backwards. You couldn't
see his face on the camera really at first, but
as he walked away, another camera caught his expression and
(29:47):
he obviously looked like he'd seen a ghost. Back in
the dining area, he fumbled for his phone and started
calling someone nine one one, but right after he darted
to the grills and shut them off, so the place
when burned down, bless his heart. And after that he
kept pacing as he talked on his phone, throwing these
nervous glances at the fridge with his shoulders hunched like
(30:09):
he expected something to I don't know, burst out of it.
And two cops showed up minutes later. They talked to
the regular Then after approaching the fridge, one of the
officers nudged the door open with his boot. It looked
like he'd yelled something with a gesture like a sort
of come out motion, and then Jenny staggered out. Her
(30:31):
hands were plastered over her eyes, and she was shaking
so hard that one of the officers had to support
her as she came out. Mike followed soon after, his
own hands pressed tight against his face, but he moved differently, slower,
like he wasn't so sure about leaving the walk in. Suddenly,
as the cops were guiding him away, Mike kind of
(30:51):
twisted back away from them. Then, with his face covered
with one hand, he reached for the door and tried
to walk back inside. The cops yanked him backwards away
from it, but Mike was trying to get back in
the walk in like his life depended on it. As
the cops dealt with Mike's weird outburst, Jenny collapsed into
a booth and curled up into a ball with her
(31:12):
hands still shielding her face. A few minutes later, the
cops seemed to talk Mike down, and they were able
to walk him to a booth and sit him down.
The cops then tried talking to them, kneeling and gesturing
as they did, but he didn't look like they got anything.
Mike and Jenny just stayed all catatonic, with their hands
over their eyes, like they had seen something so awful
(31:34):
they couldn't bear to look at anything else. It was
chilling watching them break apart without a word, and it
was almost like whatever happened in that fridge had terrified
them beyond belief. A little while later, a couple of
EMTs rushed in. They talked to Mike and Jenny for
a while, then walked them both through an ambulance, but
(31:54):
even when they were outside, Jenny and Mike kept their
hands clamped over their faces. CoV stayed behind, scribbling down notes.
And then I saw myself on the tape, bursting in
coat half buttoned, with my face very tense and worried,
And when the tape cut off, I felt sick. I
remember turning to the detective and demanding to know what
(32:15):
had happened in that walk in, but he just shrugged.
Mike and Jenny were in shock, and they weren't talking yet.
There were no obvious injuries either, so apparently my guess
was as good as his. The men hadn't beaten them
or cut them, but whatever they did do, it had
shattered them psychologically. The officer told me that they were
(32:37):
digging for answers, but that was all they knew so far.
After locking up behind me, I left the diner in
a kind of horrified daze. Mike and Jenny were my people.
I cared about them, and hearing they'd gone through something
so terrible had my heart breaking in my chest. I
tried seeing them at the hospital the next morning, but
(32:57):
the staff turned me away. Then I tried calling their
homes in the days afterwards, but neither wanted to talk
to me. Then, one at a time, over the weeks
that followed, they each quit the diner. I heard Mike
later move to California, abandoning his wife and kids. She
told me he was a wreck in the days before
(33:17):
he left, not talking at all, barely sleeping or eating,
and then one day, poof, he was gone. Jenny fled
to a farm in Iowa with family and tried to
piece herself together. Her mom later told me she was
doing much better, but she'd still only talk in short,
clipped sentences. The police report was a dead end, too,
(33:39):
and only referred to what had happened as an incident,
with no specifics to speak of, and the diner changed
after that. The staff at the other branches started gossiping
about it being some kind of gang thing. Others swore
with some kind of twisted game, like they'd heard him
for fun. One cook even muttered about some kind of
government conspiras, but obviously I brushed that off. No one
(34:02):
knew what was happening to Jenny and Mike except Jenny
and Mike. But the not knowing just made it worse.
Customers stopped coming at night, scared off by the rumors,
and I couldn't blame them. I hated being there, too,
standing in a place where something so terrible it obviously happened.
I added a night guard, triple checked the cameras, and
(34:23):
had panic buttons installed, but it felt like an empty gesture.
The damage had already been done, and time dragged on.
We hired new staff, and the night customs slowly trickled back,
but I never forgot what happened there. I'd dry by
at night, see the Neon sign flickering away, and wondered
who those men were. Sometimes I'd watch that tape back
(34:45):
on my home computer and let those thirty seven minutes
just roll by. And sometimes it went fast, and other
times it felt like an eternity. Were they still out
there planning something else? And what was it they did
in the first place that broke Mike and Jenny so bad.
Eventually I stopped watching the tape and taught myself to
stop asking questions too, because these days I feel like
(35:08):
I'm better off not knowing. On the evening of April
twenty sixth, twenty thirteen, a twenty five year old mother
of one named Jessica hearing A was working the late
night shift at the Eixon gas station on Sternberg Road
(35:31):
in Norton Shores, Michigan. The small, unassuming station was a
familiar stop for locals, and Jessica, known for her warm
smile and dedication to her job, was working alone at
the time. Such working practices were a common occurrence at
the Eixon. Norton Shores has a very low crime rate
when compared with the rest of the state, and with
(35:52):
the nearby Fruitford Police Department being just a few minutes
drive away, the Exxon employees felt safe enough to work
alone and unarmed, Jessica included. Just prior to eleven, one
of the station's regulars pulled his car into the forecourt,
turned off the engine, then walked inside to make a purchase.
Upon entering, he saw no one at the counter, and
(36:15):
under the assumption the clerk was taking a bathroom break,
he decided to wait, but when minutes went by and
nothing but an eerie silence could be heard from the
back of the store, he began to grow concerned, seeing
as he was warmly familiar with the gas station and
its staff, and after suspecting an emergency was going on,
the regular customer decided to step behind the counter and
(36:37):
take a look around. In the back of the store,
he found Jessica, hearing his purse, her jacket, and other
personal belongings, but no Jessica. After calling out her name
a few times and walking around the store to make
sure she wasn't close by, the station's regular called the cops.
Minutes later, an officer arrived from the nearby department and
(36:58):
began inspecting the gas station. There were no signs of
any struggle, which suggested Jessica had simply walked out of
the store for some reason, possibly with the contents of
the cash register, But when the officer opened it up,
all four hundred dollars in change sat there, neat and untouched.
The same could be said for the station's safe But
(37:18):
if nothing in the store had been touched in all
of Jessica's belongings had been left behind, then where was she?
Jessica was more than just a gas station clerk. She
was a devoted mother to her beloved three year old son, Zeven,
and was engaged to her doting fiancee, Dakota Quail Dyer.
She was described by friends and family as kind hearted
(37:39):
and ambitious, and dreamed of becoming an accountant while paying
her way through college. As you can imagine, this made
her a very popular figure among Norton Shore's residence, so
her sudden disappearance sent shock waves through a close knit
community unaccustomed to such chilling and unexpected events. Her family,
particularly her mother, showed hearing. We're devastated. I know she's
(38:03):
out there, and I know she's waiting for us to
find her. She told one local journalist, I just want
my baby back. It's like a nightmare that you don't
wake up from. You just want answers. Dakota Quailed Dyer
and Jessica's fiance also spoke to local media at a
vigil held in the aftermath of her disappearance. I just
want her to come home. I miss her, and our
(38:25):
son misses her. He said. Every day is hard and
we're not giving up. She's out there somewhere. The Norton
Shoores Police Department launched an immediate investigation, but to their frustrations,
the lack of physical evidence of the scene posts significant challenges.
As we've mentioned, there were no signs of a struggle
inside the gas station, but shockingly, police found a complete
(38:48):
absence of interior surveillance cameras at the property, meaning none
of the footage could explain what happened to Jessica. They
were stunned, but when asked why they chosen not to
cover the interior of the build, its owners said they
didn't think such intense surveillance was required. Obviously, it was
far too late to do anything but reprimand their naivety,
(39:10):
but it proved a shocking level of ineptitude that made
the investigation infinitely more difficult. Instead of relying on security
camera footage, police turned to other methods of tracking Jessica's movements.
A canine unit was deployed to track her scent, but
the trail ended abruptly, suggesting that she may have been
taken away in a vehicle. A small spot of blood
(39:31):
was then found outside the station's back door, and when
this was confirmed to be a match for Jessica, it
proved a worrying indication of potentially fatal foul play. The
police then conducted interviews with customers and employees alike and
were once again shocked to learn that a young female
had been left to work alone and was therefore extremely
(39:51):
vulnerable to late night predators. With lack of solid evidence,
police prepared themselves for the difficult job ahead, but as
days turned and into weeks, the investigation ground to a
complete standstill. Extensive searches of the surrounding area were conducted,
including wooded regions and nearby lakes, but despite numerous civilian
(40:12):
volunteers joining law enforcement in their efforts, no trace of
Jessica was ever found. In an inspiring display of community spirit,
the people of Norton Shores rallied together, organizing vigils, distributing flyers,
and plastering the city with missing person posters. Local media
covered the case relentlessly, and Jessica's story gained the attention
(40:33):
of national TV shows like Disappeared, Yet with no witnesses
to attest, to what had happened, and no significant leads,
the case grew cold, leaving Jessica's family in an agonizing limbo,
unsure if she was alive or dead. For nearly three years,
the question of what happened to Jessica was a haunting
puzzle that weighed heavily on the people of Norton Shores,
(40:57):
But in twenty sixteen, a seemingly unrelated incident provided the
spark that would reignite her case. On April sixteenth, a
sixteen year old girl reported being the victim of a
terrifying abduction attempt in Muskegon County. She described being approached
by a man in a silver Mini van who then
tried luring her into his vehicle. Her quick thinking allowed
(41:20):
her to escape, and she was able to provide police
with critical details, including a description of the suspect in
his van. The girl's report led investigators to a man
named Jeffrey Willis, a forty six year old factory worker,
but despite having no criminal history to speak of, mister
Willis was far from innocent. During a search of Willis's
(41:41):
home and silver Chrysler minivan, police officers unearthed a frightening
amount of highly disturbing evidence. Not only did Willis's van
match descriptions from witnesses who reported seeing a similar vehicle
near the Exxon station on the night Jessica disappeared, but
its contents were enough to chill the blood of even
the most veteran officer. Handcuffs, ropes, chains, and leather restraints
(42:07):
proved merely the tip of the iceberg. Willis claimed all
these items were perfectly legal, as were the handgun, the insulin,
the viagra, and the plastic gloves police discovered. But what
was not so easy to explain was the folder on
Willis's laptop that he'd simply titled VICS. Upon opening the folder,
(42:28):
digital forensics experts noticed the two subfolders, one titled j
l H and the other titled R B. Then, after
opening the RB folder, experts found photographs of a woman
named Rebecca Bletch. On Sunday, June twenty ninth of twenty fourteen,
a fellow jogger discovered Rebecca's lifeless body on a regular
(42:51):
route less than a mile from her home near Muskegon
County's Automobile Road. And while she was originally thought to
be the victim of a hit and run, investigation later
soon discovered that Becky had been shot three times in
the back of the head. Rebecca's loved ones were devastated
by her murder, but they held out hope that justice
would one day come. Willis's arrest and the seizure of
(43:13):
his laptop marked the end of that weight. Not only
did Willis's vix folder contain a multitude of photographs that
Rebecca herself uploaded to social media, but it also contained
thousands of torture and snuff videos, revealing a disturbing and
deeply seated obsession with violent fantasies. But perhaps even more
(43:34):
disturbing was a small detail regarding the folder titled j
l H because, in addition to containing dozens of photographs
depicting Jessica Hearing, the date of its creation was April
twenty sixth, twenty thirteen, the very same day that Jessica disappeared. Naturally,
(43:54):
Jeff Willis became the prime suspect in Jessica's disappearance, as
in addition to what was found on his laptop, surveillance
footage from a nearby business captured his silver Mini van
speeding away from the Sternberg Road Eixon at around eleven
p m. On the night in question. Additionally, a police
sketch created from descriptions of a suspicious man spotted near
(44:17):
the station that night bore a striking resemblance to Willis.
While it was later uncovered that the suspect had a
lengthy history of harassing vulnerable females at their places of work,
Witnesses who had earlier reported nothing suspicious on the night
of Jessica's disappearance later recalled Willis as a regular customer
at the Aixon. Most saw nothing but bother some attempts
(44:38):
at flirtation, but it made Jessica feel deeply uneasy all
the same. Finally, on September twentieth of two thousand sixteen,
Jeff Willis was officially charged with Jessica hearing his kidnap
and murder. Prosecutors accused him of abducting her from the
gas station before transporting her to his grandfather's vacant house. There,
(45:00):
Jessica was subjected to a series of sadistic brutalities before
she was executed with the same three fifty seven Taurus
found in Willis's van. The gun serial number was partially
filed off, but forensic analysts were easily able to link
it to Willis through a series of DNA tests, while
the j l H file on his computer, along with
(45:21):
the bondage equipment and snuff videos police recovered, painted a
chilling picture of a monster who meticulously planned his murders.
In a shocking turn of events, Willis's cousin, a former
correctional officer by the name of Kevin Bloom, admitted he'd
help dispose of Jessica's body after being shown her remains
in his cousin's basement, and it was Bloom's latent cooperation
(45:44):
that proved critical to the case against his cousin. In
May of two thousand eighteen, Willis was tried for Jessica's murder,
although it should be noted that he was already serving
life without parole for his two thousand seventeen conviction for
the killing of Rebecca Bletch. However, in Jessica's case, the
prosecution faced a unique challenge. Since Jessica's body has never
(46:06):
been found. It became a no body murder case, which
legal experts everywhere agree are notoriously difficult to prove, but
at least the sheer volume of circumstantial evidence was positively overwhelming.
Willis's silver Mini van, his VIX folder, along with the
surveillance footage and witness testimony, all pointed to his irrefutable guilt.
(46:28):
But on top of that, one of Willis's co workers
testified that he actually boasted of his knowledge of CORPS
disposal following a lengthy period of research, something the jury
found very damning. Indeed, Willis's defense team argued that the
lack of physical evidence, such as Jessica's DNA being found
in his residence or on his clothing, created substantial reasonable doubt.
(46:51):
They also suggested alternative theories to explain Jessica's disappearance, including
the possibility that she'd vanished voluntarily due to dissatisfaction with
her Joe and relationships. However, the jury found the prosecution's
case so compelling that it took just an hour and
a half of deliberation to find Willis guilty of kidnapping
and first degree murder. The news that he'd been sentenced
(47:15):
to life in prison was met with tears of relief
from Jessica's family, who had endured years of pain and uncertainty. Yet,
despite the conviction, one agonizing question remained. Where was Jessica's body.
Kevin Bloom, who pleaded guilty to accessory after the fact,
claimed he helped Willis bury her in a wooded area
(47:37):
near Sheridan and Laketon, Rhodes. He led police to several locations,
but to their disappointment, extensive searches, including excavations and cadavered
dog sweeps, yielded no results. Having clearly expected his cousin
to rat him out, Willis had the foresight to dig
up Jessica's remains before moving them to a second location.
(47:58):
After that, all Bloom could do was give the police
his best guesses, and after compiling a list of potential
burial sites, over a dozen were investigated, from rural properties
to abandoned lots, but sadly, Jessica's remains were never found.
Shelley Hearing, Jessica's mother had spoken publicly about the pain
of not knowing where her daughter is, but as vowed
(48:21):
to continue the search. Local volunteers have also refused to
give up the ghost, and, driven by a collective desire
to bring Jessica home, have since organized efforts to comb
through potential burial sites. Jessica's disappearance not only had a
profound impact on the residence of Norton Shores, but it
also exposed the glaring vulnerabilities in workplace safety for late
(48:43):
night workers. In response, Michigan lawmakers signed the Jessica Hearing
Act into law on twenty sixteen, which mandates enhanced safety
measures for gas stations and convenience stores, such as requiring
multiple employees on late shifts, installing panic buttons, and ensuring
full twenty four to seven surveillance. The local community also
(49:06):
continues to honor Jessica through annual vigils and fundraisers for
her son, Zevn, who is being raised by his father
and grandmother in the wake of her loss. Jessica's murder
robbed Norton Shores of its innocence and serves as a
reminder of how devastating violent crime can be, but it
also gives us many reasons to be hopeful, whether it
(49:27):
be the courage of the sixteen year old who escaped
his similarly grisly fate, the dedication of investigators, or the
resilience of Jessica's family. There are many such examples of
good people pushing back against the darkness, but Jessica's absence
and the failure to bring home her remains leave an
open wound. Jeff willis now serving multiple life sentences, remains
(49:49):
completely unrepentant and has offered no further clues to Jessica's whereabouts.
Perhaps one day he will, but until then, the memory
of the incident remained into somber chapter in Norton Shore's history.
It's a testament to the pain of unresolved loss, but
it's also a testament to the strength of those who
refuse to give up. Hey, friends, thanks for listening. Click
(50:17):
that notification bell to be alerted of all future narrations.
I release new videos every Monday and Thursday at nine
pm Eastern Time, and there are super fun live streams
on Sundays and Wednesday nights. If you've got a story,
be sure to submit them over at my email Let's
Read Submissions at gmail dot com and maybe even hear
your story featured on the next video. And if you
(50:38):
want to support me even more, grab early access to
all future narrations and bonus content over on Patreon, or
click that big join button to hear about the extra
perks for members of the channel, and check out the
Let's Read podcast, where you can hear all of these
stories and big compilations located anywhere you listen to podcasts.
Links are all in the description below. Much friends, and
(51:01):
remember to carry my spore.
I've been working as a security guard at this factory
complex in Detroit for about six months now. It's not
the best job, but it pays okay and keeps the
bills covered. I sit most of the time watching cameras,
making sure nobody's sneaking around where they don't belong. It's
quiet most nights, just me and a bunch of empty buildings.
I've been doing the overnight shift ten p m To
(00:36):
six a m. Since I started. It's rough on sleep,
but I manage the Factory's an old place used to
make auto parts back in the day. Most of it's
empty now, just a few buildings still running, and at
night it's all shadows and echoes with rats scurrying around.
Sometimes I start my shift checking the doors, making sure
(00:56):
they're locked up tight, and then I settle into the
security office, sipping coffee and watching the camera feeds. Every
couple of hours, I do a walk around, shine my
flashlight into the dark corners, and to be honest, it's boring,
but it's money. But one night, though, everything went bad.
(01:16):
It was cold Michigan cold, the kind that gets into
your bones, and I was on my third cup of
coffee feeling tired because I hadn't slept good the day before,
and I was staring at the screens when I saw
something on camera three out by the back loading dock.
It looked like a shadow moving quick, sneaky, and I
leaned closer, squinting, but it was too dark to tell.
(01:39):
I remember thinking at first that it could have been nothing,
but I saw it again, darting across the feed, and
I just kind of sighed, grabbed my flashlights and my
jacket and headed out. The factory's amaze at night, big
old buildings with alleys between them. I shined my light around,
checking the loading dock. The door was shut, no sign
(02:01):
of anyone breaking in, and then I walked over to
the fence and saw it was intact with no holes.
I figured maybe it was just wind blowing trash around,
and I was about to head back when I heard
something like a snicker, real quiet. I froze, listening hard,
and then out of the shadows they came at me.
(02:23):
There were four or five of them, all wearing masks
like Halloween or something like that, and they were younger,
I could tell by how they moved, very jumpy and
full of energy, like kids hyped up on sugar. One
of them shoved me hard and I stumbled back, almost
dropping my flashlight. And before I could even really work
out what was happening, another one of them punched me
(02:44):
in the gut so hard it knocked the wind out
of me. I doubled over, gasping, and then they were
all on me, hitting and kicking like a pack of
wild animals. I tried to fight back, even swung my
flashlight at one of them, but they were too fast.
Some one grabbed it and tossed it away before another
kid punched me in the face and I felt my
(03:05):
nose crack and I could feel blood starting to come down.
I could taste it in my sinuses. I tried to yell,
but they kept hitting me, knocking me off my feet
over and over. Someone kicked my legs out and I
went down hard, pain shooting through my knees and hands
as I hit the gravel, but they didn't stop there.
(03:27):
Kicks landed on my ribs, my back, my arms. I
curled up, trying to cover my head, but it didn't
do much good. The pain was everywhere, and I could
hear them laughing loud and crazy, like it was some
type of game. It was sick the way they enjoyed it.
They acted like kids, but mean ones, the kind that
had pulled wings off of flies just to watch them squirm,
(03:50):
And that scared me more than the pain, the way
they didn't care, the way they seemed to like it.
And this went on for what felt like hours, though
it ben and finally one of them smashed me in
the head. And that's really when everything went black, just
a sudden nothing, like someone flipped a switch. And when
(04:11):
I woke up, I was still dark and still cold.
I was laying on the ground, my face pressed into
the gravel. My head was pounding, and my mouth still
tasted like blood. I tried to move, but my whole
body screamed at me. My ribs felt like they were burning,
and my hands wouldn't work right, and I spat out
blood and some pieces of my teeth. They'd mess me
(04:34):
up bad. I didn't know how long i'd been out.
Those kids were gone, no sign of them. My clothes
were torn, and my shoes were missing, and must have
taken them air Jordan's ninety six. I felt for my
wallet and it was still in my pocket. Guess they
didn't want money, just wanted to hurt me. I got
(04:54):
to my feet, slow and shaky, dizzy as hell, and
every step hurt. But I leaned against the wall and
started stumbling back to the office. I kept tripping, my legs, weak,
my ribs, stabbing me with every breath, But finally I
made it to the security office, fell into the chair
and grabbed the phone. My hands were shaking so bad
(05:15):
I could hardly down nine one one. I mumbled something
about being attacked and gave them the address, and then
I just sat there waiting, trying not to pass out again.
The paramedics showed up pretty quickly. The lights were flashing,
and they loaded me onto a stretcher and they asked
me what happened, but my jaw hurt way too much
(05:36):
to even really talk at that point. They took me
to the hospital and I spent a few days there
all bandaged up. Doc said that I had broken ribs,
a concussion, fractures in my fingers, and a busted up face.
I even pulled out some teeth and gave me some
pain killers and said that I was lucky that it
wasn't worse. But I didn't feel very lucky though. The
(05:57):
cops came by while I was resting, two of them,
one older guy and one younger. They asked me to
describe the attackers, but I didn't have much to give.
Masks covered their faces and it was dark. I told
them they were young, fast, laughing like maniacs, but that
was it. They wrote it down and said they'd look
into it, but I don't think I ever heard from
(06:18):
them again. I guess I knew they wouldn't find those kids.
There are too many shadows in Detroit to hide in.
And after a few days they let me go home.
I was still hurting and I couldn't do much but
sit around. Couldn't work, that's for sure. I had two
kids depending on me, and I didn't know how I
was going to pay those bills. My daughter, she's eight,
(06:38):
cried when she saw me all banged up. My son, twelve,
tried to act tough, but I could tell he was shook.
I told them that I had an accident at work
and didn't want them to be scared, knowing the actual truth.
My sister helped out, coming over with food and changing
my bandages, and she's a nurse, so she didn't know
what to do. I hated needing her like that, though,
(06:59):
but I couldn't manage alone. Getting out of bed was
a fight every day. My ribs ached, my hands didn't
grip right with those broken fingers, and I felt useless,
like I couldn't even take care of myself, let alone
my kids. I kept thinking about that night over and over.
Why'd they do it just for kicks? I ain't never
(07:20):
hurt nobody, and I only was just doing my job.
It just didn't make any sense. My boss called and
said that they were sorry it happened, said they'd add
more security, maybe another guard, and it didn't make me
feel much better. The other guards, when I finally went back,
clapped me on the shoulder and said that they were glad.
I was okay, but I saw the worry in their eyes.
(07:41):
Nobody wanted to think it could be them next. The
cops never caught those kids and probably never will, and
it tears me up to think that they got away
clean and I'm stuck with these scars. I just ain't right,
But what can I do? Life ain't fair, I guess,
and I'm more careful now, always looking around expecting trouble,
and maybe that's good, keeps me sharp, but It also
(08:04):
showed me how quick things can go bad and how
you can't always stop it. I just keep going for
my kids, for myself, and I guess there ain't no
other choice. I grew up in Modesto in the nineteen eighties,
(08:28):
and honestly, I fell in with a kind of bad crowd.
I had a couple of friends end up in jail.
I had a couple end up in the ground too,
But it was the ones that said enough is enough
that I really admired, the ones that got out. Before
the life we lived became an anchor around our necks.
I decided to clean myself up, and since driving was
(08:49):
kind of my thing, I figured that I'd get a
job at a cab company so I could earn an
honest living while still driving around the city that I
knew and loved. By nineteen ninety one, I was twenty
four and I've been taking fares around Modesto for almost
two years. It was a hell of a job, let
me tell you. And every so often I got a
real character in the back of my cap, like this.
(09:12):
One time, I had this raspy voiced little guy flag
me down, and when I asked him his story, it
turned out he was Sunny Barger, a founding member of
the Hell's Angels. I asked why he wasn't on his bike,
and he looks me dead in the eye through my
rear view and says, because I've had fourteen beers five
shots of tequila and I'm too goddamn old to spend
(09:33):
the night in jail. I laughed my ass off with
the guy, and he was a great tipper too, So
shout out to the Hell's Angels, I guess, but not
everyone was so cool or entertaining. In fact, I picked
up one or two passengers in my time that got
me in a hell of a lot of trouble, and
this is one of them. So it was August second
(09:53):
of nineteen ninety one, around eight thirty at night, because
the sun had just gone down, and I was driving
down the Avenue of to take the one o eight
toward downtown. It was a Friday, so I knew I
was in for a busy night, and I was just
about to take my turn when I saw a girl
standing at the side of the road sticking her thumb
out to passing cars. My first thought was, it is
(10:15):
not the time to be hitchhiking. Out here because Fridays
and Saturdays always got a little crazier when the sun
went down. So I pulled over next to her, honked
my horn, and then when she came up to my
driver's side I didn't even get to ask where she
was headed before she said something like I don't got
any money, sorry, I just really need a ride. And
(10:35):
from the sound of her voice how shaky it was,
I could tell that she'd been crying. So rather than
just drive off like some jerk, I told her to
hop in and that I'd give her a free ride.
She responds with, oh my god, really, oh, thank you
so much, very grateful, and that it sounds like she's
going to start crying again. So she hops in the
(10:57):
back of my cab and she tells me that she
must go to the airport. I tell her my name,
then ask her what hers is, and then as we're driving,
I start asking if she's okay, and that I know
you're not, but asking what's wrong is too forward kind
of way. She tells me she's just ended things with
her boyfriend of three years and that she's headed to
the airport to catch a plane to Florida, which was
(11:19):
where her grandparents lived. I told her how sorry I was,
but that she'd be surprised to know just how many
young women like her I gave rides to on a
weekly or sometimes even daily basis. It's a sad fact
of life that relationships sometimes fall apart, and when they do,
someone usually pulls the old Hail Mary, full of grace,
(11:39):
get me out of this goddamn place. And that's where
yours truly comes in. She didn't laugh, but I didn't
expect her to either, So after my dumb attempt at humor,
I started saying how happy I was to lend an
ear if she wanted someone to talk to. She had
to get herself together a little before she started talking,
and she was a slow starter too, who just didn't
(12:01):
know where to begin, I guess. But once she got going,
she got going. So I shut up, let her talk
and listened to her story. She moved to California from
the East Coast for college, met her boyfriend during her
junior year, then moved in with him after she graduated
and needed a place to stay. She said when they met,
he'd been the perfect gentleman. He'd supported her emotionally through
(12:24):
those final two years of college, then financially for a
while too. After she graduated and was looking for a job.
He'd always been kind and patient with her, but then
over time, while she was still trying to find work,
he started to change. He got less and less patient
and more and more mean. They never used to fight
it all, then over time it got to the point
(12:45):
they were fighting two or three times a week. She said.
The field she wanted to work in was very competitive,
and then while she was working her butt off sending
out resumes and making calls, she wasn't having any luck.
But then the longer that went on, the more impatient
her boyfriend was getting, and over time it became this
huge source of tension that she wasn't contributing at all.
(13:08):
She said, she was looking for waitress jobs and stuff
right at the time they had their huge break up fight.
By then her boyfriend wasn't interested. He told her to
pack her bags, started throwing some of her stuff around.
Then things started to escalate. The fight ended violently before
she ran out of the house with her suitcase all packed.
My dad used to get violent with my mom before
(13:30):
he walked out on her. So as soon as she
said that last thing, I was ready to drive back
to where she'd come from and give her ex an
ass kicking. Before driving her back to the airport, I
told her I was sorry things ended that way, then
asked if she was all right, if she needed me
to take her to the hospital first thing or anything
like that. She said no, that he hadn't really hurt her.
(13:53):
But then I asked if she wanted me to stop
so she could call the cops, and for the first time,
she gave me this immediate, desperate reply of no. And
that was the first warning sign right there, the thing
that made me think that I might have seriously misjudge
the situation in front of me. I told her that
if he'd hit her or broke any of her stuff,
(14:14):
then it was important to report that sort of stuff
to the cops so that they at least had it
on record, But she insisted I'd just drive her to
the airport so she could leave to go with her grandparents.
At the time, I understood the impulse, or at least
I thought I did. The poor girl just went through
something traumatic. She didn't want to hang around going over
a play by play with a bunch of bozos. She
(14:36):
just wanted to get away from it, But like I said,
there was something about that no that sounded a little
too desperate. I asked if she did anything like hit
him back, and that's why she wasn't so focused on
talking to the law. But I was also quick to
reassure her that the cops would consider anything she did
in self defense to be just that self defense. She
(14:58):
started saying how they wouldn't see it that way, but
when I asked why not, she straight up snapped at me.
She says, because they won't. All right, how can you
just take me to the airport. I'm begging you. She
started off all cold and angry, but by the time
she got to the I'm begging you part, she was
(15:20):
back to sounding like a scared little girl again. I
guess that tugged at my heart strings enough for me
to back down a little, just not quite enough for
me to drop it all together. I kept quiet for
a moment or two, gave her some time to breathe,
and suggested if her ex had done something like hit her,
then the best revenge would be having him spend a
(15:40):
night in the cell. And then she muttered that's not
going to happen. I didn't see it for what it was,
so I followed up with something like, are you really
gonna let this piece of trash? Do you like this?
That's when she said, with this heavy tone of voice
that set the hairs on the back of my neck
on end, He's not going to do anything to anyone anymore. Bingo.
(16:07):
Their fight had ended in violence, all right, but not
with this girl's ex smacking her around. It ended with
her doing something to him. In the way she said
that last thing about him not doing anything anymore, it
made me think she'd done more than just slap him
or whatever. I started saying something like, miss, if you
(16:30):
did something something bad, I gotta let you out of
the cab. Otherwise you're making me an accessory to whatever's
going on. I didn't know if that was one hundred
percent true at the time, but i'd heard it was
and that was enough for me, so that's what I said.
I also added that if all she did was toss
a lamp at him or something like that to keep
(16:52):
him away from her, than whatever, I'd take her to
the airport. But if she did something else, as she
left him bleeding somehow and in need of a hospital,
and that was another story. As I waited for her answer.
I heard her rustling around in the back. My eyes
darted up to the rear view, and I saw her
reaching into her jacket. Seconds before I heard the distinct
(17:14):
click of a handgun being armed. I've been robbed three
times in two years by that point, so I knew
that sound well enough to know that the girl I
first thought was the innocent victim of domestic abuse had
just pulled a gun on me in the back seat.
I remember how the words, well, they're miss there's no
(17:35):
need to do anything rash came out of my mouth
without me even trying to speak. Then that same shaky,
teary eyed sound returned to her voice as she said,
just take me to the airport. I don't want to
do anything to you, so please don't make me. I
just want to get out o here. I didn't ask
(17:56):
her anything else. I wanted to, Good Lord, I wanted to,
but I valued my life far more than I valued
getting any more answers. I figured there might be a
chance there was a dude out there someplace, lying on
his kitchen floor bleeding to death with a bullet in
his gut. Maybe a scumbag who hit his girl did
deserve to suffer a little, but I don't believe in
(18:18):
the death penalty. I wanted to know more than anything
if some por son of a bitch was crawling around
in the pile of his own blood and poop, because
God knows, I'd want someone to call me an ambulance
if i'd heard about it. I did end up calling someone,
but that came later, and I guess I should just
get on with the story. So I just drove, not
(18:39):
saying a goddamned word because I was terrified and I'm
not afraid to say it. This girl had all but
admitted to shooting a man, and I had this creeping
feeling she might do it again if it meant not
being able to get to her grandparents. That's even if
there were any grandparents, because if that were me, I'd
be thinking more about some place in South America than
(19:00):
heading the Florida. I drove her all the way to
the airport, not saying a word. Then when we got
close to the little drop off point, the girl told
me to stop the car and that she'd walk the
rest of the way. I did as she asked, stop
the car, and the darkness away from the crowd of
people getting in and out of cars, and then she
asked me to turn off the engine and hand over
(19:21):
my keys. I figured she wasn't about to shoot me,
not close enough to all those people for them to
hear the gunshots. So at first I said I can't
do that, miss I got to make a living. But then,
in a way that made my blood run cold as
ice in my veins, I think she showed me the
real her. For a second, I'd kinda half turned my
(19:44):
head as I told her I didn't want to give
her my keys, and I was about to tell her
how I wouldn't say a word to anybody when she
stuck the barrel of that gun right in my face.
And when I say she stuck it in my face,
I don't mean she just pointed it at me. I
mean she shoved the muzzle into the skin of my
temple so hard it hurt, and then told me give
(20:05):
me your keys. I had one last bit of resistance
in me, one last appeal to her good nature, and
I tried to tell her, you can't just take away
a man's means of making money. How am I supposed
to feed my kids if I can't drive my cab?
I didn't have any kids at the time, but I've
said it just about anything to keep a hold of
(20:27):
my keys, because I wasn't kidding when I said I
needed them to make a living. But she didn't even
let me get past you can't before she exploded about
how I wasn't allowed to tell her anything, how all
men were the same, thinking they could control every woman,
and how this one wasn't going to let that happen.
She then repeated that I was to give her my
keys or I wouldn't be going home to see my
(20:50):
non existent kids that night, or any night for that matter.
I'm not stupid. I knew the best thing to do
from there on out was to shut the effort up
and do as she told me. So I handed over
my keys, watched her climb out of my cab before
she dragged her suitcase out behind her, and then as
she walked off towards the terminal with that same poor
(21:11):
me attitude she'd had when I first saw her, I
waited till she was out of sight, then rushed towards
the terminal to where the payphones were, and then called
nine to one one looking over my shoulder the whole time,
I knew there might be airport security inside the terminal,
but I also knew the girl would not be too
happy to see me there, and I didn't want to
risk getting shot when I could just call the cops
(21:33):
from outside the building. I wasn't going anywhere that girl
had my keys, so I had to just sit outside
the terminal and wait for the cops to show up.
But by the time they did, the girl had put
herself on the first flight to the Bahamas or wherever
she went, having obviously gotten rid of that gun somehow,
but not my car keys. I had to get some
(21:56):
help jump starting my cab just to get home, and
then my cab was based out of action until the
company could get a new key shipped to them. But
I had my life, a man, did that feel like
something special after having that crazy bitch in my back seat.
(22:20):
I used to be the area manager for a small
chain of late night diners here in Minnesota, and of
all the strange incidents in my career, this was the
most frightening. I wasn't not the diner the night it happened,
but two of my employees were. It was a small
spot just off the highway Open twenty four hours, and
surrounded by a field, some woods, and a very lonely
(22:41):
stretch of road. Jenny and Mike had both been there
for years when it happened, but after that night they
both quit and didn't tell anyone but the cops what
had happened. All I had to piece together was the
security footage and a few vague hints from the police,
and years later, I still think about what I saw
on what I'll never figure out. I remember it being
(23:02):
one of those brutal winter nights, the kind where the
wind must have been rattling the diner like it was
trying to get inside for a bowl of hot dish.
Mike was our cook, a solid worker in his forties
with a wife and two kids, who worked the night
shift for the extra cash. Jenny was the waitress, a
single mom in her twenties who was sharp as a
knife and great with crowd control on her busier nights.
(23:25):
They were reliable, the kind of employees you could trust,
but who could handle themselves too. But that night something
walked into the diner that nothing could have prepared them for.
I was at home sleeping when a phone call woke
me up. The moment they said it was the police.
It was like half a dozen espressos hit me all
(23:45):
at once, and I listened as they said there had
been an incident at the diner and how they needed
access to the office so they could review the security tape.
They didn't elaborate, they just said that it was bad
and that Mike and Jenny were involved. I dragged myself
out of bed and my stomach was all knotted up
with worry, and then I drove through the snow with
(24:06):
my head spinning with questions. Was it a robbery two
groups of drunk customers who had started a brawl, or
was it something more serious. By the time I got there,
I had a whole bunch of different theories already laid out.
But what I saw on that tape was something a
whole lot worse than anything I'd expected. When I arrived
(24:27):
at the diner, an officer in uniform was waiting for me,
and then I led him to a cramped back office
with an old, beat up TV and a dusty VHS player.
He said he'd needed to take the tape with him
as evidence, but he also asked if we could watch
it first, just so he had a better idea of
what had taken place. I said, sure, rewound the tapes
(24:47):
to the time he requested, two thirty a m. And
then after I pressed play, it came alive on the screen.
It was quiet out front, with Mike in the kitchen
scrubbing down the counters and Jenny out front wiping down
tables in the dim light. Then the door swung open
and two men walked in. They were maybe late twenties
(25:07):
or early thirties, dressed in faded jeans and thick jackets.
But it wasn't their coats that sent my nerves on edge.
It was their faces. One had a tattoo on his
neck that ran up onto his face, and the other
had these cold, very hollow eyes that didn't seem to blink.
They acted calm at first, like they were just a
(25:27):
couple of drifters who wanted a burger. They slid on
the stools of the counter and Jenny took their order.
Mike cooked with his back to them. Then Jenny brought
the plates out. They kept to themselves while they ate,
heads down and not doing much talking. I kept hoping
that they'd finish and leave, only obviously they didn't. Out
(25:48):
of nowhere, the one with the face tattoo reached into
his hoodie and pulls out a handgun. The other followed,
drawing his own before they each aimed at Mike and Jenny,
who froze mid motion like deer caught in head lights.
Jenny's eyes went wide and her face went slack. Her
mouth was wide open, like a scream was just stuck
(26:09):
in her throat. Mike's hands jerked up, trembling so bad
that I could even see it in that terrible footage,
and the two men didn't rush with their guns. They
motioned for Mike and Jenny to come out from behind
the counter. They stumbled forward on shaky legs, with Jenny
clutching the edge of the counter for a second before
letting go. The two men then herded them to the
(26:33):
back toward the walk in fridge, and I figured they'd
locked them inside before raiding the register in the safe,
but instead, after shoving Mike and Jenny inside, they stepped
in after them and pulled the heavy door shut behind them.
The camera stayed on that closed door, and it stayed
closed for five, then ten, then twenty solid minutes, and
(26:57):
I had to fast forward the tape a bunch of times,
Darting and stopping, but still the door stayed closed. As
my mind started to tick over, asking questions like why
go inside with them? And what the hell are they
doing in there? I pictured Mike and Jenny in that
freezing cold walk in. Thirty seven minutes is a long
time to be trapped with two armed strangers in a
(27:18):
box you can't escape, And the longer I watched, the
worse that feeling of dread got in me. My mind
started trying to fill in the blanks. Maybe they were
threatening them while holding the guns to their heads, making
them do things so unthinkable I can't even name them.
The walk in was big, but only by fridge standards.
There was barely room for four people standing up. Were
(27:41):
they standing there shivering? Too scared to do anything but
what they were being told? But the tape gives me
no clues. Finally, exactly thirty seven minutes after the door
to the walk in closed behind them, it opened up again.
The two men stepped out, completely relaxed, like they just
finished a bathroom break. The one with a face tattoo
(28:03):
tugged his hoodie straight while the others scanned the room
with those two empty eyes of his. And then they
strolled back through the diner, not even glancing at the
safe back in the office or cash register stuffed with bills.
They didn't take a damn thing, not a dime, not
a burger, nothing. They headed for the door, moving casually
(28:23):
like they'd done what was the most normal thing in
the world. Then they slipped out, climbed into a dark
car parked just out of frame, and vanished into the
snowy night. I sat there with a police officer standing
next to me, and I remember my hands being clammy
and how my heart thudded hard and fast in my chest.
(28:43):
They didn't steal anything. They held two people at gunpoint
for over half an hour in a freezing walk in
and walked away empty handed, Or at least that was
what it looked like on the surface. But why what
did they do to Mike and Jenny? In there? And
the tape rolled on? About fifteen minutes later, one of
(29:04):
our regulars shuffled in, a trucker who always came in
for coffee at odd hours. He looked around at the
empty diner with his coat all dusted with snow, and then,
after a few minutes of waiting around, he wandered behind
the counter probably wondering where the hell everyone was. He
did the same thing in the back, just sort of
wandered around shyly for a few minutes, and then after
(29:25):
maybe ten to fifteen minutes of checking absolutely everywhere but
the walk in, he cracked it open and looked inside.
He could see the exact moment that he saw something
inside the walk in, because he pulls backwards. You couldn't
see his face on the camera really at first, but
as he walked away, another camera caught his expression and
(29:47):
he obviously looked like he'd seen a ghost. Back in
the dining area, he fumbled for his phone and started
calling someone nine one one, but right after he darted
to the grills and shut them off, so the place
when burned down, bless his heart. And after that he
kept pacing as he talked on his phone, throwing these
nervous glances at the fridge with his shoulders hunched like
(30:09):
he expected something to I don't know, burst out of it.
And two cops showed up minutes later. They talked to
the regular Then after approaching the fridge, one of the
officers nudged the door open with his boot. It looked
like he'd yelled something with a gesture like a sort
of come out motion, and then Jenny staggered out. Her
(30:31):
hands were plastered over her eyes, and she was shaking
so hard that one of the officers had to support
her as she came out. Mike followed soon after, his
own hands pressed tight against his face, but he moved differently, slower,
like he wasn't so sure about leaving the walk in. Suddenly,
as the cops were guiding him away, Mike kind of
(30:51):
twisted back away from them. Then, with his face covered
with one hand, he reached for the door and tried
to walk back inside. The cops yanked him backwards away
from it, but Mike was trying to get back in
the walk in like his life depended on it. As
the cops dealt with Mike's weird outburst, Jenny collapsed into
a booth and curled up into a ball with her
(31:12):
hands still shielding her face. A few minutes later, the
cops seemed to talk Mike down, and they were able
to walk him to a booth and sit him down.
The cops then tried talking to them, kneeling and gesturing
as they did, but he didn't look like they got anything.
Mike and Jenny just stayed all catatonic, with their hands
over their eyes, like they had seen something so awful
(31:34):
they couldn't bear to look at anything else. It was
chilling watching them break apart without a word, and it
was almost like whatever happened in that fridge had terrified
them beyond belief. A little while later, a couple of
EMTs rushed in. They talked to Mike and Jenny for
a while, then walked them both through an ambulance, but
(31:54):
even when they were outside, Jenny and Mike kept their
hands clamped over their faces. CoV stayed behind, scribbling down notes.
And then I saw myself on the tape, bursting in
coat half buttoned, with my face very tense and worried,
And when the tape cut off, I felt sick. I
remember turning to the detective and demanding to know what
(32:15):
had happened in that walk in, but he just shrugged.
Mike and Jenny were in shock, and they weren't talking yet.
There were no obvious injuries either, so apparently my guess
was as good as his. The men hadn't beaten them
or cut them, but whatever they did do, it had
shattered them psychologically. The officer told me that they were
(32:37):
digging for answers, but that was all they knew so far.
After locking up behind me, I left the diner in
a kind of horrified daze. Mike and Jenny were my people.
I cared about them, and hearing they'd gone through something
so terrible had my heart breaking in my chest. I
tried seeing them at the hospital the next morning, but
(32:57):
the staff turned me away. Then I tried calling their
homes in the days afterwards, but neither wanted to talk
to me. Then, one at a time, over the weeks
that followed, they each quit the diner. I heard Mike
later move to California, abandoning his wife and kids. She
told me he was a wreck in the days before
(33:17):
he left, not talking at all, barely sleeping or eating,
and then one day, poof, he was gone. Jenny fled
to a farm in Iowa with family and tried to
piece herself together. Her mom later told me she was
doing much better, but she'd still only talk in short,
clipped sentences. The police report was a dead end, too,
(33:39):
and only referred to what had happened as an incident,
with no specifics to speak of, and the diner changed
after that. The staff at the other branches started gossiping
about it being some kind of gang thing. Others swore
with some kind of twisted game, like they'd heard him
for fun. One cook even muttered about some kind of
government conspiras, but obviously I brushed that off. No one
(34:02):
knew what was happening to Jenny and Mike except Jenny
and Mike. But the not knowing just made it worse.
Customers stopped coming at night, scared off by the rumors,
and I couldn't blame them. I hated being there, too,
standing in a place where something so terrible it obviously happened.
I added a night guard, triple checked the cameras, and
(34:23):
had panic buttons installed, but it felt like an empty gesture.
The damage had already been done, and time dragged on.
We hired new staff, and the night customs slowly trickled back,
but I never forgot what happened there. I'd dry by
at night, see the Neon sign flickering away, and wondered
who those men were. Sometimes I'd watch that tape back
(34:45):
on my home computer and let those thirty seven minutes
just roll by. And sometimes it went fast, and other
times it felt like an eternity. Were they still out
there planning something else? And what was it they did
in the first place that broke Mike and Jenny so bad.
Eventually I stopped watching the tape and taught myself to
stop asking questions too, because these days I feel like
(35:08):
I'm better off not knowing. On the evening of April
twenty sixth, twenty thirteen, a twenty five year old mother
of one named Jessica hearing A was working the late
night shift at the Eixon gas station on Sternberg Road
(35:31):
in Norton Shores, Michigan. The small, unassuming station was a
familiar stop for locals, and Jessica, known for her warm
smile and dedication to her job, was working alone at
the time. Such working practices were a common occurrence at
the Eixon. Norton Shores has a very low crime rate
when compared with the rest of the state, and with
(35:52):
the nearby Fruitford Police Department being just a few minutes
drive away, the Exxon employees felt safe enough to work
alone and unarmed, Jessica included. Just prior to eleven, one
of the station's regulars pulled his car into the forecourt,
turned off the engine, then walked inside to make a purchase.
Upon entering, he saw no one at the counter, and
(36:15):
under the assumption the clerk was taking a bathroom break,
he decided to wait, but when minutes went by and
nothing but an eerie silence could be heard from the
back of the store, he began to grow concerned, seeing
as he was warmly familiar with the gas station and
its staff, and after suspecting an emergency was going on,
the regular customer decided to step behind the counter and
(36:37):
take a look around. In the back of the store,
he found Jessica, hearing his purse, her jacket, and other
personal belongings, but no Jessica. After calling out her name
a few times and walking around the store to make
sure she wasn't close by, the station's regular called the cops.
Minutes later, an officer arrived from the nearby department and
(36:58):
began inspecting the gas station. There were no signs of
any struggle, which suggested Jessica had simply walked out of
the store for some reason, possibly with the contents of
the cash register, But when the officer opened it up,
all four hundred dollars in change sat there, neat and untouched.
The same could be said for the station's safe But
(37:18):
if nothing in the store had been touched in all
of Jessica's belongings had been left behind, then where was she?
Jessica was more than just a gas station clerk. She
was a devoted mother to her beloved three year old son, Zeven,
and was engaged to her doting fiancee, Dakota Quail Dyer.
She was described by friends and family as kind hearted
(37:39):
and ambitious, and dreamed of becoming an accountant while paying
her way through college. As you can imagine, this made
her a very popular figure among Norton Shore's residence, so
her sudden disappearance sent shock waves through a close knit
community unaccustomed to such chilling and unexpected events. Her family,
particularly her mother, showed hearing. We're devastated. I know she's
(38:03):
out there, and I know she's waiting for us to
find her. She told one local journalist, I just want
my baby back. It's like a nightmare that you don't
wake up from. You just want answers. Dakota Quailed Dyer
and Jessica's fiance also spoke to local media at a
vigil held in the aftermath of her disappearance. I just
want her to come home. I miss her, and our
(38:25):
son misses her. He said. Every day is hard and
we're not giving up. She's out there somewhere. The Norton
Shoores Police Department launched an immediate investigation, but to their frustrations,
the lack of physical evidence of the scene posts significant challenges.
As we've mentioned, there were no signs of a struggle
inside the gas station, but shockingly, police found a complete
(38:48):
absence of interior surveillance cameras at the property, meaning none
of the footage could explain what happened to Jessica. They
were stunned, but when asked why they chosen not to
cover the interior of the build, its owners said they
didn't think such intense surveillance was required. Obviously, it was
far too late to do anything but reprimand their naivety,
(39:10):
but it proved a shocking level of ineptitude that made
the investigation infinitely more difficult. Instead of relying on security
camera footage, police turned to other methods of tracking Jessica's movements.
A canine unit was deployed to track her scent, but
the trail ended abruptly, suggesting that she may have been
taken away in a vehicle. A small spot of blood
(39:31):
was then found outside the station's back door, and when
this was confirmed to be a match for Jessica, it
proved a worrying indication of potentially fatal foul play. The
police then conducted interviews with customers and employees alike and
were once again shocked to learn that a young female
had been left to work alone and was therefore extremely
(39:51):
vulnerable to late night predators. With lack of solid evidence,
police prepared themselves for the difficult job ahead, but as
days turned and into weeks, the investigation ground to a
complete standstill. Extensive searches of the surrounding area were conducted,
including wooded regions and nearby lakes, but despite numerous civilian
(40:12):
volunteers joining law enforcement in their efforts, no trace of
Jessica was ever found. In an inspiring display of community spirit,
the people of Norton Shores rallied together, organizing vigils, distributing flyers,
and plastering the city with missing person posters. Local media
covered the case relentlessly, and Jessica's story gained the attention
(40:33):
of national TV shows like Disappeared, Yet with no witnesses
to attest, to what had happened, and no significant leads,
the case grew cold, leaving Jessica's family in an agonizing limbo,
unsure if she was alive or dead. For nearly three years,
the question of what happened to Jessica was a haunting
puzzle that weighed heavily on the people of Norton Shores,
(40:57):
But in twenty sixteen, a seemingly unrelated incident provided the
spark that would reignite her case. On April sixteenth, a
sixteen year old girl reported being the victim of a
terrifying abduction attempt in Muskegon County. She described being approached
by a man in a silver Mini van who then
tried luring her into his vehicle. Her quick thinking allowed
(41:20):
her to escape, and she was able to provide police
with critical details, including a description of the suspect in
his van. The girl's report led investigators to a man
named Jeffrey Willis, a forty six year old factory worker,
but despite having no criminal history to speak of, mister
Willis was far from innocent. During a search of Willis's
(41:41):
home and silver Chrysler minivan, police officers unearthed a frightening
amount of highly disturbing evidence. Not only did Willis's van
match descriptions from witnesses who reported seeing a similar vehicle
near the Exxon station on the night Jessica disappeared, but
its contents were enough to chill the blood of even
the most veteran officer. Handcuffs, ropes, chains, and leather restraints
(42:07):
proved merely the tip of the iceberg. Willis claimed all
these items were perfectly legal, as were the handgun, the insulin,
the viagra, and the plastic gloves police discovered. But what
was not so easy to explain was the folder on
Willis's laptop that he'd simply titled VICS. Upon opening the folder,
(42:28):
digital forensics experts noticed the two subfolders, one titled j
l H and the other titled R B. Then, after
opening the RB folder, experts found photographs of a woman
named Rebecca Bletch. On Sunday, June twenty ninth of twenty fourteen,
a fellow jogger discovered Rebecca's lifeless body on a regular
(42:51):
route less than a mile from her home near Muskegon
County's Automobile Road. And while she was originally thought to
be the victim of a hit and run, investigation later
soon discovered that Becky had been shot three times in
the back of the head. Rebecca's loved ones were devastated
by her murder, but they held out hope that justice
would one day come. Willis's arrest and the seizure of
(43:13):
his laptop marked the end of that weight. Not only
did Willis's vix folder contain a multitude of photographs that
Rebecca herself uploaded to social media, but it also contained
thousands of torture and snuff videos, revealing a disturbing and
deeply seated obsession with violent fantasies. But perhaps even more
(43:34):
disturbing was a small detail regarding the folder titled j
l H because, in addition to containing dozens of photographs
depicting Jessica Hearing, the date of its creation was April
twenty sixth, twenty thirteen, the very same day that Jessica disappeared. Naturally,
(43:54):
Jeff Willis became the prime suspect in Jessica's disappearance, as
in addition to what was found on his laptop, surveillance
footage from a nearby business captured his silver Mini van
speeding away from the Sternberg Road Eixon at around eleven
p m. On the night in question. Additionally, a police
sketch created from descriptions of a suspicious man spotted near
(44:17):
the station that night bore a striking resemblance to Willis.
While it was later uncovered that the suspect had a
lengthy history of harassing vulnerable females at their places of work,
Witnesses who had earlier reported nothing suspicious on the night
of Jessica's disappearance later recalled Willis as a regular customer
at the Aixon. Most saw nothing but bother some attempts
(44:38):
at flirtation, but it made Jessica feel deeply uneasy all
the same. Finally, on September twentieth of two thousand sixteen,
Jeff Willis was officially charged with Jessica hearing his kidnap
and murder. Prosecutors accused him of abducting her from the
gas station before transporting her to his grandfather's vacant house. There,
(45:00):
Jessica was subjected to a series of sadistic brutalities before
she was executed with the same three fifty seven Taurus
found in Willis's van. The gun serial number was partially
filed off, but forensic analysts were easily able to link
it to Willis through a series of DNA tests, while
the j l H file on his computer, along with
(45:21):
the bondage equipment and snuff videos police recovered, painted a
chilling picture of a monster who meticulously planned his murders.
In a shocking turn of events, Willis's cousin, a former
correctional officer by the name of Kevin Bloom, admitted he'd
help dispose of Jessica's body after being shown her remains
in his cousin's basement, and it was Bloom's latent cooperation
(45:44):
that proved critical to the case against his cousin. In
May of two thousand eighteen, Willis was tried for Jessica's murder,
although it should be noted that he was already serving
life without parole for his two thousand seventeen conviction for
the killing of Rebecca Bletch. However, in Jessica's case, the
prosecution faced a unique challenge. Since Jessica's body has never
(46:06):
been found. It became a no body murder case, which
legal experts everywhere agree are notoriously difficult to prove, but
at least the sheer volume of circumstantial evidence was positively overwhelming.
Willis's silver Mini van, his VIX folder, along with the
surveillance footage and witness testimony, all pointed to his irrefutable guilt.
(46:28):
But on top of that, one of Willis's co workers
testified that he actually boasted of his knowledge of CORPS
disposal following a lengthy period of research, something the jury
found very damning. Indeed, Willis's defense team argued that the
lack of physical evidence, such as Jessica's DNA being found
in his residence or on his clothing, created substantial reasonable doubt.
(46:51):
They also suggested alternative theories to explain Jessica's disappearance, including
the possibility that she'd vanished voluntarily due to dissatisfaction with
her Joe and relationships. However, the jury found the prosecution's
case so compelling that it took just an hour and
a half of deliberation to find Willis guilty of kidnapping
and first degree murder. The news that he'd been sentenced
(47:15):
to life in prison was met with tears of relief
from Jessica's family, who had endured years of pain and uncertainty. Yet,
despite the conviction, one agonizing question remained. Where was Jessica's body.
Kevin Bloom, who pleaded guilty to accessory after the fact,
claimed he helped Willis bury her in a wooded area
(47:37):
near Sheridan and Laketon, Rhodes. He led police to several locations,
but to their disappointment, extensive searches, including excavations and cadavered
dog sweeps, yielded no results. Having clearly expected his cousin
to rat him out, Willis had the foresight to dig
up Jessica's remains before moving them to a second location.
(47:58):
After that, all Bloom could do was give the police
his best guesses, and after compiling a list of potential
burial sites, over a dozen were investigated, from rural properties
to abandoned lots, but sadly, Jessica's remains were never found.
Shelley Hearing, Jessica's mother had spoken publicly about the pain
of not knowing where her daughter is, but as vowed
(48:21):
to continue the search. Local volunteers have also refused to
give up the ghost, and, driven by a collective desire
to bring Jessica home, have since organized efforts to comb
through potential burial sites. Jessica's disappearance not only had a
profound impact on the residence of Norton Shores, but it
also exposed the glaring vulnerabilities in workplace safety for late
(48:43):
night workers. In response, Michigan lawmakers signed the Jessica Hearing
Act into law on twenty sixteen, which mandates enhanced safety
measures for gas stations and convenience stores, such as requiring
multiple employees on late shifts, installing panic buttons, and ensuring
full twenty four to seven surveillance. The local community also
(49:06):
continues to honor Jessica through annual vigils and fundraisers for
her son, Zevn, who is being raised by his father
and grandmother in the wake of her loss. Jessica's murder
robbed Norton Shores of its innocence and serves as a
reminder of how devastating violent crime can be, but it
also gives us many reasons to be hopeful, whether it
(49:27):
be the courage of the sixteen year old who escaped
his similarly grisly fate, the dedication of investigators, or the
resilience of Jessica's family. There are many such examples of
good people pushing back against the darkness, but Jessica's absence
and the failure to bring home her remains leave an
open wound. Jeff willis now serving multiple life sentences, remains
(49:49):
completely unrepentant and has offered no further clues to Jessica's whereabouts.
Perhaps one day he will, but until then, the memory
of the incident remained into somber chapter in Norton Shore's history.
It's a testament to the pain of unresolved loss, but
it's also a testament to the strength of those who
refuse to give up. Hey, friends, thanks for listening. Click
(50:17):
that notification bell to be alerted of all future narrations.
I release new videos every Monday and Thursday at nine
pm Eastern Time, and there are super fun live streams
on Sundays and Wednesday nights. If you've got a story,
be sure to submit them over at my email Let's
Read Submissions at gmail dot com and maybe even hear
your story featured on the next video. And if you
(50:38):
want to support me even more, grab early access to
all future narrations and bonus content over on Patreon, or
click that big join button to hear about the extra
perks for members of the channel, and check out the
Let's Read podcast, where you can hear all of these
stories and big compilations located anywhere you listen to podcasts.
Links are all in the description below. Much friends, and
(51:01):
remember to carry my spore.
Popular Podcasts
Stuff You Should Know
If you've ever wanted to know about champagne, satanism, the Stonewall Uprising, chaos theory, LSD, El Nino, true crime and Rosa Parks, then look no further. Josh and Chuck have you covered.
Las Culturistas with Matt Rogers and Bowen Yang
Ding dong! Join your culture consultants, Matt Rogers and Bowen Yang, on an unforgettable journey into the beating heart of CULTURE. Alongside sizzling special guests, they GET INTO the hottest pop-culture moments of the day and the formative cultural experiences that turned them into Culturistas. Produced by the Big Money Players Network and iHeartRadio.
Dateline NBC
Current and classic episodes, featuring compelling true-crime mysteries, powerful documentaries and in-depth investigations. Follow now to get the latest episodes of Dateline NBC completely free, or subscribe to Dateline Premium for ad-free listening and exclusive bonus content: DatelinePremium.com