September 29, 2025 • 49 mins
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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!
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Transcript
Episode Transcript
Available transcripts are automatically generated. Complete accuracy is not guaranteed.
Speaker 1 (00:13):
A few years back, I decided to hold the yard sale.
My garage was overflowing with junk, old furniture, boxes of books,
clothes that didn't fit anymore, so I just figured it
was time to clear out some space and maybe make
a little money while I was at it. And by
ten am on Sunday morning, my driveway was packed with
tables covered in stuff that I thought that I might sell.
(00:37):
Neighbors came and went poking around, asking prices, Some haggled,
some just handed over crumpled bills, but for the most
part they smiled politely and made a little small talk
and then moved on. And by mid morning, strangers were
starting to notice the sale as they were walking or
driving by. And then the more people gathered, the more
(00:57):
people noticed the sale. So by maybe eleven to eleven
thirty I was getting quite a lot of foot traffic
and making quite a few sails. And at one point
I noticed a man lingering by a table of tools,
picking up a wrench and then a hammer and turning
them over in his hands like he was deciding one
or another. He was wearing a faded gray T shirt, jeans,
(01:20):
and a Dodger's cap, nothing very unusual about him, but
something about the way his eyes darted around that made
me very uneasy. On the assumption that he was looking
around for the person running the sale, I walked over
and introduced myself. The guy then said he was interested
in the tools and then asked if I had any more,
but his voice was sort of flat, like he was
(01:42):
reading from a script, but very badly. I pointed to
a box of odds and ends near the back of
the driveway, and he nodded and then walked over slowly.
By noon, it was just a trickle of people wandering
in and out. I was very tired and ready to
pack it in, and that's when I noticed the man
in the doors cap again, meaning he'd been hanging around
(02:02):
for almost an hour without buying anything. He was hanging
around the edge of the driveway, pacing past the tables
like he hadn't already seen everything three times over. But
then he wasn't looking at the stuff anymore. He seemed
like he was looking at me. I tried to ignore him,
announced that I was about to pack up, and then
(02:22):
focused on the last few shoppers. A woman asked about
a lamp. A teenager bought a stack of DVD's, but
the whole time I kept an eye on the man
and the Dodger's cap, all while trying my best to
pretend that I wasn't. When the driveway was finally empty
except for him, I started packing up. I told him
the sale was over, then I needed to get everything
(02:43):
back inside. He didn't leave. He just stood there watching me,
his hands shoved into his pockets. I started to get
a little nervous, but told myself that he was obviously harmless,
just a little odd, and that I was anxious. I
loaded a couple of bocks in the garage, keeping one
eye on him, but when I turned back, he had
(03:04):
moved closer. He was standing in the middle of the
driveway by that point, looking down at one of the tables,
and he said something about the tools again, but his
tone made it sound like he wasn't really asking. I
told him that they weren't for sale any more, that
it was done for the day. He nodded, but he
didn't leave. Instead, he reached down and picked up a hammer,
(03:26):
turning it over in his hands again, and in that moment,
my throat went dry. I told him to put it down,
to leave, but he just stared at me like he
was thinking, making up his mind. I dunno what set
him off, though maybe it was the way that I
said it, or maybe he had been planning this all along.
One second he was standing there, and the next he
(03:50):
was moving towards me and fast. I backed up my feet,
stumbling over the edge of the driveway. He raised the
hammer and I turned to run. I barely made it
to the garage before he grabbed me, his fingers digging
into my arm. I twisted away, yanking free, but then
tripped over a box. I think it was of books.
(04:12):
It was right behind me, looming over me. As I
scrambled backward, searching for anything that I could grab, my
hand closed around something solid and heavy, a wrench from
the box that he had looked through earlier. I swung
it without thinking, the metal connecting with a very sickening thud,
and he stumbled back, clutching his shoulder. His face twisted
(04:34):
in pain and rage, and I didn't wait to see
what he would do next. I scrambled to my feet
and ran, bolting through the side door into the house.
I slammed it shut behind me, locked it, and then
pressed my back against the door, listening for any sound outside.
It was quiet for a moment, and then I heard
the crunch of footsteps on the gravel, moving away. I
(04:57):
crept to the window, peeking out through the blinds. He
was gone. The driveway was empty, the yard sail tables
scattered with what was left of my things. I called
the police, my voice shaking as I explained what had happened,
and to my relief, they arrived quicker than I thought
they would. I showed them where it had happened, pointed
(05:18):
to the hammer that he had dropped in the wrench
still lying on the garage floor. They took my statement,
asking questions I could barely answer, and they never found them.
The man who had turned a quiet yard sail into
a nightmare disappeared as quickly as he had come in.
Weeks passed, and I kept expecting him to show up
(05:38):
again to finish what he had started. And every time
I heard a car pull into the drivewayer and knock
the door, my heart leapt in my throat. I stopped
holding yard sails, and I stopped leaving the garage door
open even for a second. I watched for strangers more closely,
my mind replaying the way his eyes had lingered on
me the way his hand had tightened around that ham,
(06:00):
and I couldn't shake the feeling. But he was still
out there, and that one day he might return. The
police told me to stay vigilant, to report anything suspicious,
but there was nothing to report, just an empty driveway
in the memory of his shadow stretching across the pavement.
The stuff I hadn't sold that day stayed in the garage,
just gathering dust, I guess, and I couldn't bring myself
(06:22):
to touch it, to move it, or to go near
the spot where it had happened. Now it might sound pathetic,
but some nights I dream about him. I see him
standing at the edge of the driveway, his hands in
his pockets, his eyes fixed on me, And then I
wake up, and I wake up drenched and sweat. The
(06:42):
yard's aale was supposed to be a simple way to
clear out the clutter to make some extra cash. Instead,
it left me with a story to send to you
that I'll never forget, a scar that's invisible but is
always there. I don't know if they'll ever catch him,
or if he's still out there looking for next target.
All I know is that I'll never feel safe, truly
(07:04):
safe in my own home again. One morning a few
months ago, during the summer, I decided to check out
the yard sale down the street. Yard sales have always
(07:25):
really interested me because you never know what kinds of
treasure she might stumble across, And that morning there was
a nice crowd already picking through the tables as I
walked up. Then I spotted an old lawn chair that
looked just like the one my grandma used to have,
so I made my way over to take a closer look.
As I was giving the chair that closer look, I
(07:46):
heard raised voices not too far away. It was coming
from a lady who was standing by a table full
of dishes and kitchen gadgets. She wasn't yelling or anything,
but you could tell that there was some kind of
disagreement happening. The lady was arguing with an older man
who looked to be in his late sixties over a
set of china plates that were all nicely arranged in
(08:07):
a cardboard box, probably hoping to sell as a set.
The woman was pointing at the plates and saying something
I couldn't quite make out. Neither of them were hosting
the sale either, both were people from the neighborhood who'd
come looking for a deal. I didn't think much of
it at first, because, as surprising as it sounds, some
people can get pretty heated at yard sales. It's like
(08:29):
they forget that they're just trying to get rid of
junk that they don't need any more. And some people
take it very personally if you imply that something isn't
as valuable as they think it is. And then occasionally
you get two potential buyers arguing over an item they
both want, which appeared to be what was happening here.
At first, it was just the lady getting very confrontational,
(08:50):
but then the older man started raising his voice too,
and the whole scene got more intense. He was pointing
back at her and they were exchanging words. I couldn't
really understand because they were both talking over each other
about a mile a minute. I was still looking at
that chair at first, not looking but listening in. But
then by the time they started actually yelling at each other,
(09:12):
my curiosity got the better of me, and I couldn't
help but glance over at the argument. Other people were
turning to look too. One guy even set down the
book that he was flipping through to see what was
going on. Then the next thing, the host of the
yard sale is walking over, saying something like, hey, hey,
take it easy. But then before the guy can even
(09:33):
get over there, the lady grabs one of the plates
and raises it up above her head. I thought for
sure that she was about to smash that plate or
something like a sort of if I can't have it,
no one can kind of deal. But the second she did,
the older man lunges toward her, and because he's a
little taller than her, grabs the plate with ease, but
(09:55):
then starts trying to wrestle it out of her grip.
The lady has one hend on the plate, another on
her purse, but then the older guy puts two hands
on the plate and then sort of turns his body
as he's pulling it out of her hands. He succeeds
in pulling it out of her grip, but as he does,
he loses his balance and falls. He hit the ground,
(10:16):
and we heard the plate smash, and then the guy
let out this very long and painful grunt, and just
from the way it sounded, I knew that it was
probably bad, and everyone seemed stunned. They all heard the
same thing I did, and they must have known that
something was bad too, But there was just this moment
where no one moved and no one said anything, almost
(10:37):
like we were hoping that things wouldn't be as bad
as they looked. The woman froze, staring down at the man,
who lay on his front, not moving, and seconds later
we saw this blood start to ooze from underneath him,
and the woman started screaming. People rushed to the older
guy's aid, telling him not to move and yelling for
(10:57):
someone to call nine one one, but the lady that
had been in the scuffle with him just stood there
completely in shock, saying, oh my god, Oh my God,
over and over. The folks that rushed over to help
rolled the guy over so they could try and stop
the bleeding, but that's when everyone saw the big shard
of porcelain sticking out of the guy's stomach. The lady
(11:18):
who had been in the scuffle started to cry as
we did everything we could to stop the bleeding, and
the man just sort of laid there, breathing heavily, his
eyes wide open. Thankfully, the paramedics arrived fast, closely followed
by the cops. Then after the ambulance took the older
guy off, the cops started taking statements from us. I
didn't have much to say. I was just there to
(11:40):
buy a lawn chair and not get involved in the
yard sale showdown that ended up in someone dying. And
the lady involved in the scuffle just cried and cried.
And I don't think it was entirely her fault that
the guy had fallen, like it was all just a
horrible accident, I suppose, but at the time she clearly
blamed herself for what had happened, and some people in
(12:02):
the crowd did too. I think the copse then drove
her home to talk to her more at her house,
and later, as I walked back home, I couldn't shake
the image of that man lying on the ground. It
was the way that he was staring up at the sky,
very wide eyed and scared, more scared than I'd ever
seen anyone in my whole life. And I can't imagine
what must have been going through his head, and neither
(12:24):
can I imagine what was going through the lady's head
when she found out that the guy had actually passed.
I found out from my neighbor the next day, and
when I told him I was actually there, he asked
me what had happened, and I told him that they
were both being just childish fighting over a piece of porcelain.
And my neighbor then asked if the lady pushed the guy,
and I said no, that he fell because he was
(12:45):
sort of wrenching the plate away from the lady so
hard that he spun around when it left her hands.
I said that it seemed like the lady started it,
but then again, I only heard her voice first. You know,
the older man could have easily said something to his
breath and that's what started the whole thing. The whole
thing felt like equal blame on each side, but in
(13:06):
the end it was a life lost and a life ruined.
Really neither of them deserved that, I guess once they
got the full story, the older guy's family didn't press
any charges, but the lady still left town not long after.
I'm pretty sure even though it was all but publicly
declared that she wasn't to blame, people still said that
she killed that guy. It was like they wanted it
(13:27):
to be her fault, just so they had someone to blame,
and they didn't exactly go driving her out of town afterwards,
but I guess all their stares and hushed words got
too much for her, and she eventually moved on of
her own. Accord to me, It's just crazy how something
as simple as an argument in a yard sale can
end up in such tragedy. One second, it's a nice day,
(13:48):
people wore out taking walks, and then the next a
dude's dead. It was a typical Saturday morning, filled with
the usual errands and a long list of things to do.
(14:08):
But the yard sail Today's sign caught my eyes and
drove past, and before I knew it, I found myself
pulling over. It was set up in the front yard
of a small, weathered house, nothing really special, just the
typical kind of yardsail that you see around here. But
as I walked up, I noticed an old, unlabeled cardboard
box sitting on the ground near the back of the table.
(14:30):
It was dusty and looked like it hadn't been moved
in years, and I crouched down and picked it up,
feeling the weight of it in my hands. It wasn't
very heavy, but it was strangely solid, like there was
a lot of stuff inside it. The lid was taped
down and the edges were frayed. I asked what was inside,
and the middle aged man running the sail told me
(14:52):
just a box of old stuff. Feel free to take
a look. I lifted the lid, carefully, peeling away the tape,
and then peered inside. The contents were a strange mix
of items. There were a few old hair bands, a
couple of rusted keys, a small hair brush, and some photographs.
But the one thing that stood out were all the
newspaper clippings. They were all yellowed with age and crinkled
(15:16):
along the edges, and I picked one up and read
the headline, and when I did, I sort of felt
a chill run down my spine. Missing person Jane Doe,
it said. There were several clippings all about the same person,
a woman whose body had been found decades ago in
a nearby town. I flipped through the articles, reading the details.
(15:40):
Her body had been found in the early nineties, and,
partly because she was never identified, her murder went unsolved.
The articles described Jane Doe as a young brunette, last
seen visiting a local diner. But as I sifted through
the clippings, I discovered more disturbing details. There were photographs
tucked in a among them grainy black and white images
(16:02):
of a woman who matched Jane Does walking alone in
a parking lot, entering a store, or sitting on a bench.
There were also personal items in the box. The hair
brush that I mentioned, a few pieces of jewelry, and
some clothing. They were old, worn and had a very
musty smell. The cellar was still standing behind the table,
(16:23):
not really looking at me, and wasn't really saying a word.
I glanced up at him, wondering if he knew anything
about this Jane Doe. But he just stood there, silent
and very indifferent. It was as if though he was
waiting for me to leave so he could go back
inside the house. I asked if he knew who the
woman was, and he looked at it and just sort
(16:44):
of shrugged. He said he found the box in his
attic and never opened it and had no idea what
was inside. But his answer didn't really sit right with me.
How could he not care about what was inside that box?
It wasn't just old stuff, It was part of someone's life,
and it was somehow connected to some terrible unsolved murder.
(17:07):
I wanted to press him for more information, but there
was something about him that told me he wasn't interested
in talking, and so I began reading the newspaper clipping
more carefully. There were mentions of a man Jane's boyfriend
at the time that she went missing. He was a
local guy, well known in town, but no one had
seen him since the day that he disappeared. His name
(17:28):
was mentioned in the articles, but there were no photos
of him. As I pieced together to the story, I
began to wonder if the seller knew more than he
was letting on. Maybe he was connected to the case somehow,
Maybe he was hiding something. Could he have been involved
in this Jane's disappearance or was he telling the truth
about just finding it in his home. I couldn't shake
(17:51):
the feeling that there was more to the story than
I was seeing. I had to know more, but I
didn't know where to start. The newspaper clippings were a
dead end. There were decades old and the people mentioned
in them were long gone. So I decided to take
the box with me. I paid that cellar a few
dollars for it and walked back to my car and
then drove back home. When I got home, I laid
(18:13):
all the clippings on my kitchen table, and this sort
of jumbled mess of information, and I tried to make
sense of it all, but it was sort of like
piecing together a puzzle with missing pieces, and the whole
situation was very unsettling, and every clipping seemed to only
raise more questions than they had answered. When my husband
eventually arrived home, I showed him when I brought home
(18:35):
from the yard sale, and at first he looked at
me like I was nuts, But after he read through
some of the clippings and took a look at the
other more personal items, he started to see what I did.
Anyone with photographs of Jane Doe would have surely known
her identity, in which case, why didn't they come forward
when they learned of her murder? I remember my husband said,
(18:57):
how logically speaking, the photos in the clippings might not
be connected. Someone might have just put a bunch of
stuff in the box and without once stopping to consider
how it might be interpreted when opened by complete strangers,
and why the hell would they? But I doubted that
very very much. That seemed like way too much of
a coincidence. If there was a bunch of old lottery
(19:20):
tickets and a sewing kitten there. Then, yeah, maybe I
was just a junk box, but everything was too personal,
too deliberate. It almost felt like a trophy. My husband
didn't want to believe it at first, saying I was
just overreacting after getting in my own head about it.
But I told him I was convinced that wasn't just
some random brunette lady. It was the murdered woman. It
(19:43):
was Jane Doe. He didn't tell me when it clicked
for him, but when I reached for the box, he
almost snapped at me when he said, don't touch it,
And that's when I knew that he believed it too.
He didn't want me to touch any more because he
realized that it might actually be forensic evidence, something which
in my excitement I hadn't considered at all up until
(20:04):
that point. We got in touch with the police. The
next morning. They came and took the box, and then,
as far as I know, they went to talk to
the guide that had hosted the yard sale about how
exactly he'd come to own it. I called one of
the officers that we spoke to a while later, and
he said that the box and everything in it had
been entered into Jane Doe's evidence file. And while I
(20:26):
hadn't exactly blown open the case, it was certainly a
development in what had been a decade's old unsolved murder.
That was just about the only half decent thing about
this whole story. But somehow, and even if it was
only a little, I actually helped. I still think about
(20:53):
Liz sometimes every day. She loved gardening, and her yard
always looked neat and to her on Saturday mornings when
she was working on her flowers, and she was always smiling.
This happened on January twenty fifth, twenty nineteen, and that
Friday morning was very cold for Houston. I was making
coffee when I heard four loud pops. I thought it
(21:16):
was fireworks at first, but something felt wrong. I looked
out the window and saw some one running away from
Liz's driveway and getting into a truck, and then the
truck sped off. I went outside with my phone ready
to call nine one one, and Liz was there lying
on the ground near her driveway, and she wasn't moving.
(21:37):
There was a small table in some boxes near by
from the garage sale that she was setting up. Neighbors
started coming out of their homes looking confused and worried.
The paramedics came quickly and worked on Liz, but it
was clear that things were very bad. Later I found
out that she had passed away at the hospital. She
was only twenty nine years old, and I never thought
(21:58):
something so awful could happen neighborhood. The police said Liz
had been shot at close range by someone who walked
up to her. A neighbor's security camera caught part of it,
and the video showed a person getting out of a
black Nissan Frontier, walking up to Liz, shooting her, and
driving away, and it all happened in seconds. Liz and
(22:18):
her husband, Sergio, were loved by everyone. They were high
school sweethearts and had been married for about four years.
They left Star Wars and Harry Potter and went to
conventions together, and the garage sale Liz was having that
morning was to help pay for a trip to Universal
Studios to celebrate their fifth anniversary, and knowing this made
her death even sadder. After Liz died, the neighborhood changed drastically.
(22:45):
People were sad and scared, and we kept wondering who
could have done this? Was it someone she knew was
at random? The police talked to neighbors and looked at
security videos, but they didn't find any answers. They released
the video of the suspect and the truck, hoping some
one would recognize them, and nobody did. I kept thinking
(23:05):
about that morning. Could I have done something to help?
Could I have seen more, remembered a license plate? And
that guilt stuck with me. I would sit and stare
at Liz's house, hoping to see her again, even though
I knew that I wouldn't. The empty driveway was a
painful reminder of what had happened, and Sergio moved out
a few months later, totally understandable. It must have been
(23:28):
too hard for him to stay in the house with
all of those memories. And that house was sold and
new people moved in. They're nice, but to me, it
will always be Liz's home. And years have passed, but
the case is still unsolved. Sometimes the news will run
a story about Liz hoping to keep her memory alive,
and the reward for information has grown, but no one
(23:50):
has come forward, And it makes me so angry to
know the person who did this is still free out there.
I joined a local group that helps with unsoft cases.
We hold events, hand out flyers, and try to keep
cases like Liz's and the public eye. It's not much,
but it feels like I'm doing something. Liz and her
family deserve justice. Every year, on the anniversary of her death,
(24:12):
I leave yellow roses at her driveway, as yellow was
her favorite color. Other neighbors do the same, and it's
a quiet way to show that we haven't forgotten her.
Sometimes at night, I look out my window and wonder
if the answer is closer than we think. Did someone
see something that they're too scared to tell? Could the
killer be near by? Not knowing has become very hard.
(24:35):
Liz's death taught me that life is fragile, that bad
things don't always make sense. But it also showed me
how people can come together during very tough times. Our
neighborhood has changed, and we're more careful to look out
for each other even more now we value small moments
like that. I miss Liz. I miss her smile and kindness,
(24:56):
and I carry her memory with me and will keep
trying to get just for her. Someone has to. She
deserves it. I had decided to go to some yard
sales in the neighborhood, and I wasn't looking for anything specific,
(25:19):
just seeing if there was anything interesting. After visiting a few,
I was about to go home when I saw an
old metal box under a table at one of the sales.
I asked the lady in charge of the sale how
much she wanted for the box, and she said the
box belonged to her uncle and she had no idea
what was inside. Then, after thinking for a moment, she
said that she wanted five dollars for it. I gave
(25:42):
her the money and carried the box to my car.
As I held it, I thought that I felt a
slight vibration or sort of hum, but I wasn't sure.
I figured it was just my imagination, and then drove home,
eager to see what was inside. When I opened the
box in my kitchen, I saw a small metal ball.
It was warm when I touched it. The air felt
(26:04):
heavy around it too, and it had a symbol on
it that I didn't recognize. Below the ball were some
old papers. They were yellowed and had strange equations and
diagrams on them. Since I didn't understand any of them,
I thought that it might be a good idea to
ask some one online about it. I took a picture
of the glowing ball and posted it on a forum,
asking if any one knew what it was, and I
(26:26):
got a lot of replies. Most people joked about it
being from aliens or a movie prop, but one comment
stood out to me. It said, get rid of it,
it's radioactive. I felt my stomach drop. I moved away
from the box, feeling nervous, and I didn't know what
to do next. Should I call some one? But who?
(26:48):
Then I got a private message in my inbox. It
was from someone who said that they worked in nuclear safety,
and the message said, don't touch it any more, move
it to a safe place and let me help you.
And I followed their instructions to the letter. I took
the box to my garage and put it inside a
plastic container, and I stayed as far away from it
as I could while moving it. The person messaged me
(27:11):
again asking for more details, and they wanted to know
the size of the ball, its color, and about the papers.
And they explained that warm metal objects can sometimes be radioactive,
especially if their old lab samples or industrial materials. And
the person then told me to call the authorities. I
was scared, but knew that they were right, and I
called the police. They transferred me to a state agency
(27:34):
that handles dangerous materials, and about an hour later a
team arrived at my house wearing protective suits and carrying
special equipment. The team scanned the ball with the device
that made clicking noises, and the clicks got faster the
closer they got to the ball. They told me it
was radioactive. One of them said that it was lucky
that I hadn't kept it in the house for long,
(27:54):
because it could have possibly made me very sick, and
carefully packed the ball and the papers into a special
container that was lined with lead, and then took it away.
Later I found out that police questioned the woman who
sold me the box. She said that she had no
idea her uncle had anything dangerous. She explained that he
(28:15):
had been a chemist many years ago the radioactive ball
was probably something that he had worked on and forgotten about,
And the authorities told me that they would investigate further.
But I never heard anything else about it. Now. For
weeks after this happened, I couldn't stop thinking about it.
That glowing ball could have caused serious harm, and at
first it seemed like a fun mystery, but it turned
(28:35):
out to be very dangerous. I thought about how close
I had come to putting myself and others at risk
just because I was curious, and I haven't gone to
any yard sales since that day. The whole experience has
made me very nervous about bringing unknown things into my home,
and now whenever I see an interesting object for sale,
I think twice. There was a woman in my neighborhood
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running a yard sale. She was selling some old furniture, clothes,
and knickknacks. A few neighbors had stopped by to look around.
Or small dog was tied up to a post nearby.
That small dog was barking every so often. Down the street,
there was a larger dog that lived with his owner,
and he was a big dog, a mix of some kind,
(29:27):
and his owner usually kept him in the backyard or
on a leash when they went for walks. But this
morning something went wrong. The gate to the big dog
owner's backyard had been left open, and that big dog
saw his chance and ran out into the street. At first,
that big dog was just exploring. They sniffed around and
ran back and forth, and then he noticed the people
(29:49):
and the tables up ahead. His tail wagged as he
ran toward the closest yard sale, but as he got closer,
his energy shifted and his bark grew louder and more aggressi.
His eyes locked on the crowd, and he charged forward.
People saw the big dog coming and started to back away,
and a little boy dropped the toy that he was
(30:09):
holding and screamed as he ran to his mom. But
the big dog didn't stop. He jumped on to a table,
knocking over a stack of books and smashing a bunch
of glass. The lady looked up and shouted get away,
but that dog didn't listen. He grabbed a stuffed animal
from the table and started tearing it apart. Then the
big dog turned his attention to the little dog, and
(30:32):
the little dog was barking. The big dog barked back,
and then it attacked. The lady screamed and grabbed the
little dog just in time, and the big one circled her.
She began yelling for help, and the crowd began to scatter.
A man who had been browsing at table near by
tried to intervene, yelling and stepping in front of the
lady and her dog, and that big dog then attacked
(30:53):
the man. The dog sunk his teeth into the man's leg.
He yells out in pain and try to push the
dog away, but the dog wouldn't let go. The man
fell to the ground trying to kick the big dog,
but the dog's strength was too much. People were screaming.
One man threw a folding chair at that dog and
did nothing. The dog let go of the man's leg
(31:14):
and jumped on his chest. The man used his arms
to shield his face and the dog scratched him as
he yelled for help. That dog's owner came running down
the street, shouting at the dog to stop, and it did,
and its owner then clipped the leash onto its collar.
That bigger dog's owner said that he was sorry. Someone
at that point had already called the cops, and someone
(31:34):
else began to yell at that dog owner. Paramedics arrived
and began treating the man's injuries before loading him into
an ambulance, and the neighbors stood around talking to one another.
The dog's owner apologized again. The yard was a mess,
with broken glass and scattered items everywhere. Some people helped
the lady clean up, and the street was quiet again.
(31:57):
All I know, as a bystander who sat and watched
everything unfold, is that myself, nor anyone in the neighborhood
will ever forget that day. It was a cold weekend
(32:18):
morning when I was walking through the neighborhood with a
cup of coffee in my hand, and I noticed a
yard sale at this old house. It wasn't much, just
a folding table and a few blankets spread out in
the grass, but something about it caught my attention. Maybe
it was the idea that someone's old stuff might actually
hold a hidden gem. An elderly man sat behind the table,
(32:39):
and he looked tired, but still had a smile on
his face. He asked if I was looking for anything
in particular, and I shook my head and said no,
just sort of scanning through the items. There were old books,
porcelain figurines, some vintage lamps, and a box of very
tarnished silverware. I picked up an old hardcover book with
a faded green cover. As I flipped through its pages,
(33:02):
the man spoke again, and he said the book had
stories in it, some of them supposedly true. He added
that he never could finish it himself because it was
actually too spooky, and I just sort of laughed and
was about to ask how much he wanted for it,
when I heard a truck pull up. A black pickup
truck stopped and four teenagers climbed out. One of them
(33:22):
sort of sneered, kicking a garden gnome that was sitting
by the sidewalk, and the gnome fell over and actually
broke into pieces. At that moment, the elderly man's smile faded.
He asked those teenagers to move along if they weren't
interested in buying anything. One skinny kid with dark hair
and a cruel grin picked up one of the porcelain
figures asked how much it was, and the man told
(33:45):
him something like five to ten bucks. The teenager just
laughed and threw the figurine to the ground, shattering it
into pieces. The man asked him not to do that,
and he explained that the figurine belonged to his late
wife and asked them to have some respect. The skinny
kid just grinned again. He shoved the old man's chest,
(34:05):
making him stumble back. I wanted to say something, but
it was all just like too surreal, you know, and
I genuinely was too scared. I am em embarrassed to say.
The old man tried to stand his ground. He said
he'd called the police and pulled out his phone. That
skinny kid grabbed the phone and threw it into the street,
and then before anyone could react, he punched the old man,
(34:29):
who then fell to the ground. That gang of teens
started kicking and hitting him, and the rest of us
just stood there frozen, and all he could do was
hold on to that book and watch. Finally, after what
felt like a very long time, I heard a siren
in the distance. Someone must have called the cops, and
those teenagers took off in their truck. The old man
(34:51):
lay on the ground. He was bleeding, and a few
people slowly went over to help him up. I just
stayed where I was, feeling very ashamed, and when the
police arrived, they took statements. I handed the book back
to the old man, who was sitting on the porch
with an ice pack on his swollen face, and he
told me just to keep it. That night, I dreamed
(35:12):
of that yard sale. This time, the teenagers weren't just
breaking things, They were breaking me and the old man
just stood there, smiling, letting it all play out. The
(35:34):
picturesque town of Dyersburg, Tennessee, nestled along the Mississippi River,
is the kind of place where neighbors know each other
and life is quiet. But in two thousand fifteen, the
town became the focus of national attention due to the
mysterious disappearance and subsequent murder of Karen Swift, a forty
four year old mother of four. What began as a
(35:55):
seemingly ordinary day with the yard sail ended in tragedy,
leaving behind a puzzle that remains unsolved to this day.
On October thirtieth, twenty fifteen, Karen Swift spent her Saturday
hosting a yard sale at her home. A devoted mother,
she was known for her vivacious personality and act of
involvement in the community. The yardsale drew numerous visitors throughout
(36:20):
the day as Karen cheerfully interacted with buyers, many of
whom were neighbors and acquaintances. For Karen, it was an
opportunity to declutter her home and connect with others in
her close knit community. That evening, Karen attended to Halloween
party with friends. She returned home late and spoke briefly
with her estranged husband, David Swift, who still lived in
(36:41):
the family home despite their ongoing divorce proceedings. According to reports,
the two had a cordial but strained relationship, sharing the
residents to co parent their children. In the early hours
of October thirty first, Karen went missing. When Karen's friends
and family realized that she had vanished, alarm bells went off.
(37:03):
Her car, a white two thousand four Nissan Morano, was
found abandoned on a rural road just a few miles
from her home. The vehicle's tires were flat and her belongings,
including her purse and phone, were left inside. However, there
was no sign of Karen herself. Dyer County authorities immediately
launched a search. Friends, family, and volunteers combed through nearby
(37:26):
wooded areas, fields, and waterways, hoping to find any trace
of Karen. Her disappearance struck fear into the hearts of
the community as speculations swirled about what might have happened.
Was she abducted by some one that she met at
the art sale, was her a strange husband involved, or
was it the work of a stranger The case took
a devastating turn on December tenth, two thousand fifteen, when
(37:49):
Karen's decomposed body was discovered in the wooded area near
a cemetery less than three miles from her home. Her
remains were concealed under foliage, and the area appeared to
have been deliberately chosen to hide her body. An autopsy
revealed that she had suffered blunt forced trauma to the head.
The discovery confirmed what many had feared, Karen Swift had
(38:11):
been murdered. However, the identity of her killer remained a mystery,
and the investigation into her death became more complex as
authorities sifted through a growing list of suspects. Karen's life
was undergoing significant changes at the time of her death.
She had recently filed for divorce from David Swift, citing
irreconcilable differences. Friends described the marriage as troubled, with Karen
(38:34):
seeking a fresh start. The divorce proceedings, however, were contentious,
and David's behavior came under scrutiny following Karen's disappearance. In
addition to her marital struggles, Karen had been involved in
local fitness groups and was active on social media. Her
outgoing personality and wide circle of acquaintances led investigators to
(38:54):
explore whether someone she knew could have harbored ill intentions.
One of the more egaging aspects of the case was
the yard sale Karen hosted on the day before her disappearance.
A yard sale is a public event attracting strangers to
a private residence. Investigators considered the possibility that Karen's killer
might have been someone who attended the sale and used
(39:15):
it as an opportunity to target her. However, no concrete
evidence linked any of the yard sale attendees to the murder.
As the investigation progressed, David Swift became a person of interest,
Though he publicly denied any involvement, his strained relationship with
Karen in his presence of the family home on the
night of her disappearance drew suspicion. Friends of Karen claimed
(39:39):
that she expressed fear of David in the week's leading
up to her death, and there were rumors of past
domestic disputes, and despite these allegations, authorities did not charge
David Swift with any crime. He cooperated with the investigation
and maintained his innocence. But the cloud of suspicion continued
to hang over him. Other theories emerged as well. Some
(40:00):
speculated that Karen's killer could have been a stranger who
abducted her after her car broke down. Others suggested that
she might have been the victim of some one she
had met through her social circles or online activity. However,
none of those theories produced definitive leads. As months turned
into years, the investigation to Karen Swift's murder stalled. Despite
(40:21):
the efforts of law enforcement and private investigators, no arrests
were made and no new evidence came to light. The
lack of witnesses and forensic evidence left the case at
a standstill, frustrating Karen's family and friends. The community of
Dyersburg remained haunted by Karen's death. Her children, left without
their mother, faced the difficult task of moving forward while
(40:43):
grappling with unanswered questions surrounding her murder. Karen's friends continued
to advocate for justice, organizing memorials and raising awareness about
her case in the hopes of keeping it in the
public eye. Several key questions remain unanswered. Who killed Karen's
Was it someone she knew or a random attacker. Investigators
(41:04):
have never publicly identified a suspect or motive. The flat
tires on Karen's vehicles suggest that she may have been
forced to stop, but it is unclear whether this was
staged or coincidental. While there is no evidence tying the
yard sale to her murder, the timing raises questions about
whether someone who attended the sale might have returned later,
(41:25):
and despite extensive efforts by law enforcement, the case remains unsolved,
leading to frustration and speculation about investigative missteps or lack
of resources. Karen Swift's murder remains one of the most
perplexing and tragic cases in Tennessee's recent history. Her family
continues to seek answers, holding out hope that new evidence
(41:46):
will emerge or that someone with knowledge of the crime
will come forward. In the meantime, her case serves as
a chilling reminder of how quickly life can change and
the enduring pain of unanswered questions. For the residence of Dyersburg,
the loss of Karen Swift as a scar that is
yet to heal. Her vibrant spirits and love for her
(42:06):
children are remembered even as the search for her killer continues.
In twenty eighteen, the quiet neighborhoods of Fort Worth, Texas
became the hunting grounds for a predator. Which should have
(42:27):
been ordinary, friendly interactions during community garage sales turned into
a nightmare as a series of crimes struck fear into
unsuspecting homeowners, and the media is soon dubbed the criminal
the Texas Garage Sales Stalker, a name that sent shivers
down the spines of those hosting and attending these everyday events.
(42:48):
Garage sales are a cherish tradition in many American neighborhoods,
and Fort Worth was no exception. Families used these sales
to declutter their homes and make extra cash while fostering
a sense of commune. It was a save casual environment
where strangers could peruse items and neighbors could connect over
shared stories. But in twenty eighteen, these gatherings became a
(43:11):
fertile ground for a monster, someone who saw the sales
not as an opportunity to bargain, but as a chance
to prey on the vulnerable. The terror began in March
when a woman hosting a garage sale noticed a man
lingering longer than most customers. He asked innocuous questions about
a piece of furniture, but seemed more interested in observing
(43:32):
her movements in the layout of her home. Later that evening,
as she was packing up unsold items, the man returned,
only this time he was armed. He demanded cash and valuables,
forcing his way into her home. Though she survived the
encounter physically unharmed, she was deeply shaken. The man escaped
(43:52):
before police arrived, who chalked it up to a one
off robbery. However, within weeks, similar incidents began cropping up
nearby neighborhoods. By late spring, a clear pattern had emerged.
The attacker targeted women hosting garage sales alone or with
minimal help. He struck near the end of the sales,
when most items were packed away and neighbors had dispersed.
(44:16):
Victims described him as a middle aged man with an
average build, wearing unremarkable clothing a face that would easily
blend into a crowd. The attacker used different methods to
enter homes. Sometimes he pretended to inquire about items, other
times he forced his way inside. Once in, he demanded
money and occasionally ransacked the home for valuables. Though the
(44:39):
robberies didn't always involve physical violence, the psychological toll was immense.
Victims were left traumatized, fearing for their safety in the
sanctity of their homes. The media caught wind of the
crimes by early summer. Headlines warned homeowners to stay vigilant
during garage sales, and community forms were flooded with accounts
of strange encounters. Residents shared tips on staying safe, such
(45:03):
as doing garage sales and pairs or groups, and not
allowing customers inside their homes for any reason. Despite these precautions,
the attacker continued to strike. Police advised the public to
report suspicious behavior, but identifying the stalker proved difficult. He
avoided security cameras and chose neighborhoods with limited surveillance. His
(45:24):
nondescript appearance and tendency to leave quickly made it hard
for witnesses to provide detailed descriptions. In July, one victim's
quick thinking nearly led to the attacker's capture. A woman
hosting a garage sale noticed a man fitting the stoker's
description loitering near her driveway. She became suspicious when he
(45:44):
lingered without showing much interest in her items. She discreetly
alerted a neighbor who began taking photos of the man
from across the street. Sensing he had been spotted, the
man left abruptly, abandoning any plans he might have had
to strike. The neighbors shared the photo with police, but
they were grainy and insufficient for identification, and still the
(46:05):
encounter marked a very strong turning point. The community became
determined to stop the stoker, and the stalker's reign of
terror came to a head. In late August, a woman
hosting a garage sale in the outskirts of Fort Worth
was attacked after her event ended. This time, the encounter
escalated to violence. The attacker struck her with the butt
(46:25):
of his gun, leaving her unconscious, before fleeing with cash
and jewelry. She was found by a neighbor who had
heard the commotion and called nine one one. The brutality
of this attack intensified the urgency of the investigation. Police
increased patrols in neighborhoods where garage sales were common, and
set up decoy sales in an attempt to lure the stoker.
(46:46):
The community's vigilance also grew with many canceling their sales altogether,
moving them to safer centralized locations. The breakthrough came in September,
when the stalker grew careless. He attempted to rob a
garage sale in a neighborhood that had formed a community
watch group. Unbeknownst to him, several members were observing the
sale from nearby cars, ready to intervene if anything seemed
(47:10):
to miss. When he approached the homeowner aggressively, the group
sprang into action, blocking his escape route and calling the police.
The man tried to flee on foot, but was quickly apprehended.
He was identified as Mark Eldridge, a forty three year
old drifter with a history of petty theft and burglary.
Eldridge had no fixed address, which explained his ability to
(47:33):
move undetected between neighborhoods. Police found stolen items in his vehicle,
linking him to several of the robberies. Eldridge's arrests brought
a sense of relief to fort Worth, but the scars
he left behind were lasting. Many victims struggled with anxiety
and fear in the community's sense of safety was deeply shaken.
(47:53):
Garage sales once a simple and enjoyable tradition became a
reminder of vulnerability. During his trial, Eldridge showed little remorse.
He was convicted on multiple accounts of robbery, assault, and
burglary and sentenced to twenty five years in prison. Prosecutors
described him as a predator who exploited trust and community
spirit for his own gain. The Texas garage sales Stoker
(48:17):
case highlighted the dangers of seemingly innocent events in the
importance of vigilance. Residents of Fort Worth took the lessons
to heart, implementing safety measures to protect themselves in the future.
These included hosting sales and groups, using visible security cameras,
and maintaining constant communication with neighbors. Though the ordeal was traumatic,
(48:37):
it also brought the community closer together. Neighbors who had
been strangers banded together to support one another, ensuring that
no one faced the threat alone. Hey, friends, thanks for listening.
Click that notification bell to be alerted of all future narrations.
I released new videos every Monday and Thursday at nine
(48:59):
p m. Eastern Time, and there are super fun live
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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
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(49:20):
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these stories and big compilations look at it anywhere you
listen to podcasts. All links in the description below. Thanks
so much, friends, and I'll see you again soon.
A few years back, I decided to hold the yard sale.
My garage was overflowing with junk, old furniture, boxes of books,
clothes that didn't fit anymore, so I just figured it
was time to clear out some space and maybe make
a little money while I was at it. And by
ten am on Sunday morning, my driveway was packed with
tables covered in stuff that I thought that I might sell.
(00:37):
Neighbors came and went poking around, asking prices, Some haggled,
some just handed over crumpled bills, but for the most
part they smiled politely and made a little small talk
and then moved on. And by mid morning, strangers were
starting to notice the sale as they were walking or
driving by. And then the more people gathered, the more
(00:57):
people noticed the sale. So by maybe eleven to eleven
thirty I was getting quite a lot of foot traffic
and making quite a few sails. And at one point
I noticed a man lingering by a table of tools,
picking up a wrench and then a hammer and turning
them over in his hands like he was deciding one
or another. He was wearing a faded gray T shirt, jeans,
(01:20):
and a Dodger's cap, nothing very unusual about him, but
something about the way his eyes darted around that made
me very uneasy. On the assumption that he was looking
around for the person running the sale, I walked over
and introduced myself. The guy then said he was interested
in the tools and then asked if I had any more,
but his voice was sort of flat, like he was
(01:42):
reading from a script, but very badly. I pointed to
a box of odds and ends near the back of
the driveway, and he nodded and then walked over slowly.
By noon, it was just a trickle of people wandering
in and out. I was very tired and ready to
pack it in, and that's when I noticed the man
in the doors cap again, meaning he'd been hanging around
(02:02):
for almost an hour without buying anything. He was hanging
around the edge of the driveway, pacing past the tables
like he hadn't already seen everything three times over. But
then he wasn't looking at the stuff anymore. He seemed
like he was looking at me. I tried to ignore him,
announced that I was about to pack up, and then
(02:22):
focused on the last few shoppers. A woman asked about
a lamp. A teenager bought a stack of DVD's, but
the whole time I kept an eye on the man
and the Dodger's cap, all while trying my best to
pretend that I wasn't. When the driveway was finally empty
except for him, I started packing up. I told him
the sale was over, then I needed to get everything
(02:43):
back inside. He didn't leave. He just stood there watching me,
his hands shoved into his pockets. I started to get
a little nervous, but told myself that he was obviously harmless,
just a little odd, and that I was anxious. I
loaded a couple of bocks in the garage, keeping one
eye on him, but when I turned back, he had
(03:04):
moved closer. He was standing in the middle of the
driveway by that point, looking down at one of the tables,
and he said something about the tools again, but his
tone made it sound like he wasn't really asking. I
told him that they weren't for sale any more, that
it was done for the day. He nodded, but he
didn't leave. Instead, he reached down and picked up a hammer,
(03:26):
turning it over in his hands again, and in that moment,
my throat went dry. I told him to put it down,
to leave, but he just stared at me like he
was thinking, making up his mind. I dunno what set
him off, though maybe it was the way that I
said it, or maybe he had been planning this all along.
One second he was standing there, and the next he
(03:50):
was moving towards me and fast. I backed up my feet,
stumbling over the edge of the driveway. He raised the
hammer and I turned to run. I barely made it
to the garage before he grabbed me, his fingers digging
into my arm. I twisted away, yanking free, but then
tripped over a box. I think it was of books.
(04:12):
It was right behind me, looming over me. As I
scrambled backward, searching for anything that I could grab, my
hand closed around something solid and heavy, a wrench from
the box that he had looked through earlier. I swung
it without thinking, the metal connecting with a very sickening thud,
and he stumbled back, clutching his shoulder. His face twisted
(04:34):
in pain and rage, and I didn't wait to see
what he would do next. I scrambled to my feet
and ran, bolting through the side door into the house.
I slammed it shut behind me, locked it, and then
pressed my back against the door, listening for any sound outside.
It was quiet for a moment, and then I heard
the crunch of footsteps on the gravel, moving away. I
(04:57):
crept to the window, peeking out through the blinds. He
was gone. The driveway was empty, the yard sail tables
scattered with what was left of my things. I called
the police, my voice shaking as I explained what had happened,
and to my relief, they arrived quicker than I thought
they would. I showed them where it had happened, pointed
(05:18):
to the hammer that he had dropped in the wrench
still lying on the garage floor. They took my statement,
asking questions I could barely answer, and they never found them.
The man who had turned a quiet yard sail into
a nightmare disappeared as quickly as he had come in.
Weeks passed, and I kept expecting him to show up
(05:38):
again to finish what he had started. And every time
I heard a car pull into the drivewayer and knock
the door, my heart leapt in my throat. I stopped
holding yard sails, and I stopped leaving the garage door
open even for a second. I watched for strangers more closely,
my mind replaying the way his eyes had lingered on
me the way his hand had tightened around that ham,
(06:00):
and I couldn't shake the feeling. But he was still
out there, and that one day he might return. The
police told me to stay vigilant, to report anything suspicious,
but there was nothing to report, just an empty driveway
in the memory of his shadow stretching across the pavement.
The stuff I hadn't sold that day stayed in the garage,
just gathering dust, I guess, and I couldn't bring myself
(06:22):
to touch it, to move it, or to go near
the spot where it had happened. Now it might sound pathetic,
but some nights I dream about him. I see him
standing at the edge of the driveway, his hands in
his pockets, his eyes fixed on me, And then I
wake up, and I wake up drenched and sweat. The
(06:42):
yard's aale was supposed to be a simple way to
clear out the clutter to make some extra cash. Instead,
it left me with a story to send to you
that I'll never forget, a scar that's invisible but is
always there. I don't know if they'll ever catch him,
or if he's still out there looking for next target.
All I know is that I'll never feel safe, truly
(07:04):
safe in my own home again. One morning a few
months ago, during the summer, I decided to check out
the yard sale down the street. Yard sales have always
(07:25):
really interested me because you never know what kinds of
treasure she might stumble across, And that morning there was
a nice crowd already picking through the tables as I
walked up. Then I spotted an old lawn chair that
looked just like the one my grandma used to have,
so I made my way over to take a closer look.
As I was giving the chair that closer look, I
(07:46):
heard raised voices not too far away. It was coming
from a lady who was standing by a table full
of dishes and kitchen gadgets. She wasn't yelling or anything,
but you could tell that there was some kind of
disagreement happening. The lady was arguing with an older man
who looked to be in his late sixties over a
set of china plates that were all nicely arranged in
(08:07):
a cardboard box, probably hoping to sell as a set.
The woman was pointing at the plates and saying something
I couldn't quite make out. Neither of them were hosting
the sale either, both were people from the neighborhood who'd
come looking for a deal. I didn't think much of
it at first, because, as surprising as it sounds, some
people can get pretty heated at yard sales. It's like
(08:29):
they forget that they're just trying to get rid of
junk that they don't need any more. And some people
take it very personally if you imply that something isn't
as valuable as they think it is. And then occasionally
you get two potential buyers arguing over an item they
both want, which appeared to be what was happening here.
At first, it was just the lady getting very confrontational,
(08:50):
but then the older man started raising his voice too,
and the whole scene got more intense. He was pointing
back at her and they were exchanging words. I couldn't
really understand because they were both talking over each other
about a mile a minute. I was still looking at
that chair at first, not looking but listening in. But
then by the time they started actually yelling at each other,
(09:12):
my curiosity got the better of me, and I couldn't
help but glance over at the argument. Other people were
turning to look too. One guy even set down the
book that he was flipping through to see what was
going on. Then the next thing, the host of the
yard sale is walking over, saying something like, hey, hey,
take it easy. But then before the guy can even
(09:33):
get over there, the lady grabs one of the plates
and raises it up above her head. I thought for
sure that she was about to smash that plate or
something like a sort of if I can't have it,
no one can kind of deal. But the second she did,
the older man lunges toward her, and because he's a
little taller than her, grabs the plate with ease, but
(09:55):
then starts trying to wrestle it out of her grip.
The lady has one hend on the plate, another on
her purse, but then the older guy puts two hands
on the plate and then sort of turns his body
as he's pulling it out of her hands. He succeeds
in pulling it out of her grip, but as he does,
he loses his balance and falls. He hit the ground,
(10:16):
and we heard the plate smash, and then the guy
let out this very long and painful grunt, and just
from the way it sounded, I knew that it was
probably bad, and everyone seemed stunned. They all heard the
same thing I did, and they must have known that
something was bad too, But there was just this moment
where no one moved and no one said anything, almost
(10:37):
like we were hoping that things wouldn't be as bad
as they looked. The woman froze, staring down at the man,
who lay on his front, not moving, and seconds later
we saw this blood start to ooze from underneath him,
and the woman started screaming. People rushed to the older
guy's aid, telling him not to move and yelling for
(10:57):
someone to call nine one one, but the lady that
had been in the scuffle with him just stood there
completely in shock, saying, oh my god, Oh my God,
over and over. The folks that rushed over to help
rolled the guy over so they could try and stop
the bleeding, but that's when everyone saw the big shard
of porcelain sticking out of the guy's stomach. The lady
(11:18):
who had been in the scuffle started to cry as
we did everything we could to stop the bleeding, and
the man just sort of laid there, breathing heavily, his
eyes wide open. Thankfully, the paramedics arrived fast, closely followed
by the cops. Then after the ambulance took the older
guy off, the cops started taking statements from us. I
didn't have much to say. I was just there to
(11:40):
buy a lawn chair and not get involved in the
yard sale showdown that ended up in someone dying. And
the lady involved in the scuffle just cried and cried.
And I don't think it was entirely her fault that
the guy had fallen, like it was all just a
horrible accident, I suppose, but at the time she clearly
blamed herself for what had happened, and some people in
(12:02):
the crowd did too. I think the copse then drove
her home to talk to her more at her house,
and later, as I walked back home, I couldn't shake
the image of that man lying on the ground. It
was the way that he was staring up at the sky,
very wide eyed and scared, more scared than I'd ever
seen anyone in my whole life. And I can't imagine
what must have been going through his head, and neither
(12:24):
can I imagine what was going through the lady's head
when she found out that the guy had actually passed.
I found out from my neighbor the next day, and
when I told him I was actually there, he asked
me what had happened, and I told him that they
were both being just childish fighting over a piece of porcelain.
And my neighbor then asked if the lady pushed the guy,
and I said no, that he fell because he was
(12:45):
sort of wrenching the plate away from the lady so
hard that he spun around when it left her hands.
I said that it seemed like the lady started it,
but then again, I only heard her voice first. You know,
the older man could have easily said something to his
breath and that's what started the whole thing. The whole
thing felt like equal blame on each side, but in
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the end it was a life lost and a life ruined.
Really neither of them deserved that, I guess once they
got the full story, the older guy's family didn't press
any charges, but the lady still left town not long after.
I'm pretty sure even though it was all but publicly
declared that she wasn't to blame, people still said that
she killed that guy. It was like they wanted it
(13:27):
to be her fault, just so they had someone to blame,
and they didn't exactly go driving her out of town afterwards,
but I guess all their stares and hushed words got
too much for her, and she eventually moved on of
her own. Accord to me, It's just crazy how something
as simple as an argument in a yard sale can
end up in such tragedy. One second, it's a nice day,
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people wore out taking walks, and then the next a
dude's dead. It was a typical Saturday morning, filled with
the usual errands and a long list of things to do.
(14:08):
But the yard sail Today's sign caught my eyes and
drove past, and before I knew it, I found myself
pulling over. It was set up in the front yard
of a small, weathered house, nothing really special, just the
typical kind of yardsail that you see around here. But
as I walked up, I noticed an old, unlabeled cardboard
box sitting on the ground near the back of the table.
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It was dusty and looked like it hadn't been moved
in years, and I crouched down and picked it up,
feeling the weight of it in my hands. It wasn't
very heavy, but it was strangely solid, like there was
a lot of stuff inside it. The lid was taped
down and the edges were frayed. I asked what was inside,
and the middle aged man running the sail told me
(14:52):
just a box of old stuff. Feel free to take
a look. I lifted the lid, carefully, peeling away the tape,
and then peered inside. The contents were a strange mix
of items. There were a few old hair bands, a
couple of rusted keys, a small hair brush, and some photographs.
But the one thing that stood out were all the
newspaper clippings. They were all yellowed with age and crinkled
(15:16):
along the edges, and I picked one up and read
the headline, and when I did, I sort of felt
a chill run down my spine. Missing person Jane Doe,
it said. There were several clippings all about the same person,
a woman whose body had been found decades ago in
a nearby town. I flipped through the articles, reading the details.
(15:40):
Her body had been found in the early nineties, and,
partly because she was never identified, her murder went unsolved.
The articles described Jane Doe as a young brunette, last
seen visiting a local diner. But as I sifted through
the clippings, I discovered more disturbing details. There were photographs
tucked in a among them grainy black and white images
(16:02):
of a woman who matched Jane Does walking alone in
a parking lot, entering a store, or sitting on a bench.
There were also personal items in the box. The hair
brush that I mentioned, a few pieces of jewelry, and
some clothing. They were old, worn and had a very
musty smell. The cellar was still standing behind the table,
(16:23):
not really looking at me, and wasn't really saying a word.
I glanced up at him, wondering if he knew anything
about this Jane Doe. But he just stood there, silent
and very indifferent. It was as if though he was
waiting for me to leave so he could go back
inside the house. I asked if he knew who the
woman was, and he looked at it and just sort
(16:44):
of shrugged. He said he found the box in his
attic and never opened it and had no idea what
was inside. But his answer didn't really sit right with me.
How could he not care about what was inside that box?
It wasn't just old stuff, It was part of someone's life,
and it was somehow connected to some terrible unsolved murder.
(17:07):
I wanted to press him for more information, but there
was something about him that told me he wasn't interested
in talking, and so I began reading the newspaper clipping
more carefully. There were mentions of a man Jane's boyfriend
at the time that she went missing. He was a
local guy, well known in town, but no one had
seen him since the day that he disappeared. His name
(17:28):
was mentioned in the articles, but there were no photos
of him. As I pieced together to the story, I
began to wonder if the seller knew more than he
was letting on. Maybe he was connected to the case somehow,
Maybe he was hiding something. Could he have been involved
in this Jane's disappearance or was he telling the truth
about just finding it in his home. I couldn't shake
(17:51):
the feeling that there was more to the story than
I was seeing. I had to know more, but I
didn't know where to start. The newspaper clippings were a
dead end. There were decades old and the people mentioned
in them were long gone. So I decided to take
the box with me. I paid that cellar a few
dollars for it and walked back to my car and
then drove back home. When I got home, I laid
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all the clippings on my kitchen table, and this sort
of jumbled mess of information, and I tried to make
sense of it all, but it was sort of like
piecing together a puzzle with missing pieces, and the whole
situation was very unsettling, and every clipping seemed to only
raise more questions than they had answered. When my husband
eventually arrived home, I showed him when I brought home
(18:35):
from the yard sale, and at first he looked at
me like I was nuts, But after he read through
some of the clippings and took a look at the
other more personal items, he started to see what I did.
Anyone with photographs of Jane Doe would have surely known
her identity, in which case, why didn't they come forward
when they learned of her murder? I remember my husband said,
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how logically speaking, the photos in the clippings might not
be connected. Someone might have just put a bunch of
stuff in the box and without once stopping to consider
how it might be interpreted when opened by complete strangers,
and why the hell would they? But I doubted that
very very much. That seemed like way too much of
a coincidence. If there was a bunch of old lottery
(19:20):
tickets and a sewing kitten there. Then, yeah, maybe I
was just a junk box, but everything was too personal,
too deliberate. It almost felt like a trophy. My husband
didn't want to believe it at first, saying I was
just overreacting after getting in my own head about it.
But I told him I was convinced that wasn't just
some random brunette lady. It was the murdered woman. It
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was Jane Doe. He didn't tell me when it clicked
for him, but when I reached for the box, he
almost snapped at me when he said, don't touch it,
And that's when I knew that he believed it too.
He didn't want me to touch any more because he
realized that it might actually be forensic evidence, something which
in my excitement I hadn't considered at all up until
(20:04):
that point. We got in touch with the police. The
next morning. They came and took the box, and then,
as far as I know, they went to talk to
the guide that had hosted the yard sale about how
exactly he'd come to own it. I called one of
the officers that we spoke to a while later, and
he said that the box and everything in it had
been entered into Jane Doe's evidence file. And while I
(20:26):
hadn't exactly blown open the case, it was certainly a
development in what had been a decade's old unsolved murder.
That was just about the only half decent thing about
this whole story. But somehow, and even if it was
only a little, I actually helped. I still think about
(20:53):
Liz sometimes every day. She loved gardening, and her yard
always looked neat and to her on Saturday mornings when
she was working on her flowers, and she was always smiling.
This happened on January twenty fifth, twenty nineteen, and that
Friday morning was very cold for Houston. I was making
coffee when I heard four loud pops. I thought it
(21:16):
was fireworks at first, but something felt wrong. I looked
out the window and saw some one running away from
Liz's driveway and getting into a truck, and then the
truck sped off. I went outside with my phone ready
to call nine one one, and Liz was there lying
on the ground near her driveway, and she wasn't moving.
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There was a small table in some boxes near by
from the garage sale that she was setting up. Neighbors
started coming out of their homes looking confused and worried.
The paramedics came quickly and worked on Liz, but it
was clear that things were very bad. Later I found
out that she had passed away at the hospital. She
was only twenty nine years old, and I never thought
(21:58):
something so awful could happen neighborhood. The police said Liz
had been shot at close range by someone who walked
up to her. A neighbor's security camera caught part of it,
and the video showed a person getting out of a
black Nissan Frontier, walking up to Liz, shooting her, and
driving away, and it all happened in seconds. Liz and
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her husband, Sergio, were loved by everyone. They were high
school sweethearts and had been married for about four years.
They left Star Wars and Harry Potter and went to
conventions together, and the garage sale Liz was having that
morning was to help pay for a trip to Universal
Studios to celebrate their fifth anniversary, and knowing this made
her death even sadder. After Liz died, the neighborhood changed drastically.
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People were sad and scared, and we kept wondering who
could have done this? Was it someone she knew was
at random? The police talked to neighbors and looked at
security videos, but they didn't find any answers. They released
the video of the suspect and the truck, hoping some
one would recognize them, and nobody did. I kept thinking
(23:05):
about that morning. Could I have done something to help?
Could I have seen more, remembered a license plate? And
that guilt stuck with me. I would sit and stare
at Liz's house, hoping to see her again, even though
I knew that I wouldn't. The empty driveway was a
painful reminder of what had happened, and Sergio moved out
a few months later, totally understandable. It must have been
(23:28):
too hard for him to stay in the house with
all of those memories. And that house was sold and
new people moved in. They're nice, but to me, it
will always be Liz's home. And years have passed, but
the case is still unsolved. Sometimes the news will run
a story about Liz hoping to keep her memory alive,
and the reward for information has grown, but no one
(23:50):
has come forward, And it makes me so angry to
know the person who did this is still free out there.
I joined a local group that helps with unsoft cases.
We hold events, hand out flyers, and try to keep
cases like Liz's and the public eye. It's not much,
but it feels like I'm doing something. Liz and her
family deserve justice. Every year, on the anniversary of her death,
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I leave yellow roses at her driveway, as yellow was
her favorite color. Other neighbors do the same, and it's
a quiet way to show that we haven't forgotten her.
Sometimes at night, I look out my window and wonder
if the answer is closer than we think. Did someone
see something that they're too scared to tell? Could the
killer be near by? Not knowing has become very hard.
(24:35):
Liz's death taught me that life is fragile, that bad
things don't always make sense. But it also showed me
how people can come together during very tough times. Our
neighborhood has changed, and we're more careful to look out
for each other even more now we value small moments
like that. I miss Liz. I miss her smile and kindness,
(24:56):
and I carry her memory with me and will keep
trying to get just for her. Someone has to. She
deserves it. I had decided to go to some yard
sales in the neighborhood, and I wasn't looking for anything specific,
(25:19):
just seeing if there was anything interesting. After visiting a few,
I was about to go home when I saw an
old metal box under a table at one of the sales.
I asked the lady in charge of the sale how
much she wanted for the box, and she said the
box belonged to her uncle and she had no idea
what was inside. Then, after thinking for a moment, she
said that she wanted five dollars for it. I gave
(25:42):
her the money and carried the box to my car.
As I held it, I thought that I felt a
slight vibration or sort of hum, but I wasn't sure.
I figured it was just my imagination, and then drove home,
eager to see what was inside. When I opened the
box in my kitchen, I saw a small metal ball.
It was warm when I touched it. The air felt
(26:04):
heavy around it too, and it had a symbol on
it that I didn't recognize. Below the ball were some
old papers. They were yellowed and had strange equations and
diagrams on them. Since I didn't understand any of them,
I thought that it might be a good idea to
ask some one online about it. I took a picture
of the glowing ball and posted it on a forum,
asking if any one knew what it was, and I
(26:26):
got a lot of replies. Most people joked about it
being from aliens or a movie prop, but one comment
stood out to me. It said, get rid of it,
it's radioactive. I felt my stomach drop. I moved away
from the box, feeling nervous, and I didn't know what
to do next. Should I call some one? But who?
(26:48):
Then I got a private message in my inbox. It
was from someone who said that they worked in nuclear safety,
and the message said, don't touch it any more, move
it to a safe place and let me help you.
And I followed their instructions to the letter. I took
the box to my garage and put it inside a
plastic container, and I stayed as far away from it
as I could while moving it. The person messaged me
(27:11):
again asking for more details, and they wanted to know
the size of the ball, its color, and about the papers.
And they explained that warm metal objects can sometimes be radioactive,
especially if their old lab samples or industrial materials. And
the person then told me to call the authorities. I
was scared, but knew that they were right, and I
called the police. They transferred me to a state agency
(27:34):
that handles dangerous materials, and about an hour later a
team arrived at my house wearing protective suits and carrying
special equipment. The team scanned the ball with the device
that made clicking noises, and the clicks got faster the
closer they got to the ball. They told me it
was radioactive. One of them said that it was lucky
that I hadn't kept it in the house for long,
(27:54):
because it could have possibly made me very sick, and
carefully packed the ball and the papers into a special
container that was lined with lead, and then took it away.
Later I found out that police questioned the woman who
sold me the box. She said that she had no
idea her uncle had anything dangerous. She explained that he
(28:15):
had been a chemist many years ago the radioactive ball
was probably something that he had worked on and forgotten about,
And the authorities told me that they would investigate further.
But I never heard anything else about it. Now. For
weeks after this happened, I couldn't stop thinking about it.
That glowing ball could have caused serious harm, and at
first it seemed like a fun mystery, but it turned
(28:35):
out to be very dangerous. I thought about how close
I had come to putting myself and others at risk
just because I was curious, and I haven't gone to
any yard sales since that day. The whole experience has
made me very nervous about bringing unknown things into my home,
and now whenever I see an interesting object for sale,
I think twice. There was a woman in my neighborhood
(29:07):
running a yard sale. She was selling some old furniture, clothes,
and knickknacks. A few neighbors had stopped by to look around.
Or small dog was tied up to a post nearby.
That small dog was barking every so often. Down the street,
there was a larger dog that lived with his owner,
and he was a big dog, a mix of some kind,
(29:27):
and his owner usually kept him in the backyard or
on a leash when they went for walks. But this
morning something went wrong. The gate to the big dog
owner's backyard had been left open, and that big dog
saw his chance and ran out into the street. At first,
that big dog was just exploring. They sniffed around and
ran back and forth, and then he noticed the people
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and the tables up ahead. His tail wagged as he
ran toward the closest yard sale, but as he got closer,
his energy shifted and his bark grew louder and more aggressi.
His eyes locked on the crowd, and he charged forward.
People saw the big dog coming and started to back away,
and a little boy dropped the toy that he was
(30:09):
holding and screamed as he ran to his mom. But
the big dog didn't stop. He jumped on to a table,
knocking over a stack of books and smashing a bunch
of glass. The lady looked up and shouted get away,
but that dog didn't listen. He grabbed a stuffed animal
from the table and started tearing it apart. Then the
big dog turned his attention to the little dog, and
(30:32):
the little dog was barking. The big dog barked back,
and then it attacked. The lady screamed and grabbed the
little dog just in time, and the big one circled her.
She began yelling for help, and the crowd began to scatter.
A man who had been browsing at table near by
tried to intervene, yelling and stepping in front of the
lady and her dog, and that big dog then attacked
(30:53):
the man. The dog sunk his teeth into the man's leg.
He yells out in pain and try to push the
dog away, but the dog wouldn't let go. The man
fell to the ground trying to kick the big dog,
but the dog's strength was too much. People were screaming.
One man threw a folding chair at that dog and
did nothing. The dog let go of the man's leg
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and jumped on his chest. The man used his arms
to shield his face and the dog scratched him as
he yelled for help. That dog's owner came running down
the street, shouting at the dog to stop, and it did,
and its owner then clipped the leash onto its collar.
That bigger dog's owner said that he was sorry. Someone
at that point had already called the cops, and someone
(31:34):
else began to yell at that dog owner. Paramedics arrived
and began treating the man's injuries before loading him into
an ambulance, and the neighbors stood around talking to one another.
The dog's owner apologized again. The yard was a mess,
with broken glass and scattered items everywhere. Some people helped
the lady clean up, and the street was quiet again.
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All I know, as a bystander who sat and watched
everything unfold, is that myself, nor anyone in the neighborhood
will ever forget that day. It was a cold weekend
(32:18):
morning when I was walking through the neighborhood with a
cup of coffee in my hand, and I noticed a
yard sale at this old house. It wasn't much, just
a folding table and a few blankets spread out in
the grass, but something about it caught my attention. Maybe
it was the idea that someone's old stuff might actually
hold a hidden gem. An elderly man sat behind the table,
(32:39):
and he looked tired, but still had a smile on
his face. He asked if I was looking for anything
in particular, and I shook my head and said no,
just sort of scanning through the items. There were old books,
porcelain figurines, some vintage lamps, and a box of very
tarnished silverware. I picked up an old hardcover book with
a faded green cover. As I flipped through its pages,
(33:02):
the man spoke again, and he said the book had
stories in it, some of them supposedly true. He added
that he never could finish it himself because it was
actually too spooky, and I just sort of laughed and
was about to ask how much he wanted for it,
when I heard a truck pull up. A black pickup
truck stopped and four teenagers climbed out. One of them
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sort of sneered, kicking a garden gnome that was sitting
by the sidewalk, and the gnome fell over and actually
broke into pieces. At that moment, the elderly man's smile faded.
He asked those teenagers to move along if they weren't
interested in buying anything. One skinny kid with dark hair
and a cruel grin picked up one of the porcelain
figures asked how much it was, and the man told
(33:45):
him something like five to ten bucks. The teenager just
laughed and threw the figurine to the ground, shattering it
into pieces. The man asked him not to do that,
and he explained that the figurine belonged to his late
wife and asked them to have some respect. The skinny
kid just grinned again. He shoved the old man's chest,
(34:05):
making him stumble back. I wanted to say something, but
it was all just like too surreal, you know, and
I genuinely was too scared. I am em embarrassed to say.
The old man tried to stand his ground. He said
he'd called the police and pulled out his phone. That
skinny kid grabbed the phone and threw it into the street,
and then before anyone could react, he punched the old man,
(34:29):
who then fell to the ground. That gang of teens
started kicking and hitting him, and the rest of us
just stood there frozen, and all he could do was
hold on to that book and watch. Finally, after what
felt like a very long time, I heard a siren
in the distance. Someone must have called the cops, and
those teenagers took off in their truck. The old man
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lay on the ground. He was bleeding, and a few
people slowly went over to help him up. I just
stayed where I was, feeling very ashamed, and when the
police arrived, they took statements. I handed the book back
to the old man, who was sitting on the porch
with an ice pack on his swollen face, and he
told me just to keep it. That night, I dreamed
(35:12):
of that yard sale. This time, the teenagers weren't just
breaking things, They were breaking me and the old man
just stood there, smiling, letting it all play out. The
(35:34):
picturesque town of Dyersburg, Tennessee, nestled along the Mississippi River,
is the kind of place where neighbors know each other
and life is quiet. But in two thousand fifteen, the
town became the focus of national attention due to the
mysterious disappearance and subsequent murder of Karen Swift, a forty
four year old mother of four. What began as a
(35:55):
seemingly ordinary day with the yard sail ended in tragedy,
leaving behind a puzzle that remains unsolved to this day.
On October thirtieth, twenty fifteen, Karen Swift spent her Saturday
hosting a yard sale at her home. A devoted mother,
she was known for her vivacious personality and act of
involvement in the community. The yardsale drew numerous visitors throughout
(36:20):
the day as Karen cheerfully interacted with buyers, many of
whom were neighbors and acquaintances. For Karen, it was an
opportunity to declutter her home and connect with others in
her close knit community. That evening, Karen attended to Halloween
party with friends. She returned home late and spoke briefly
with her estranged husband, David Swift, who still lived in
(36:41):
the family home despite their ongoing divorce proceedings. According to reports,
the two had a cordial but strained relationship, sharing the
residents to co parent their children. In the early hours
of October thirty first, Karen went missing. When Karen's friends
and family realized that she had vanished, alarm bells went off.
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Her car, a white two thousand four Nissan Morano, was
found abandoned on a rural road just a few miles
from her home. The vehicle's tires were flat and her belongings,
including her purse and phone, were left inside. However, there
was no sign of Karen herself. Dyer County authorities immediately
launched a search. Friends, family, and volunteers combed through nearby
(37:26):
wooded areas, fields, and waterways, hoping to find any trace
of Karen. Her disappearance struck fear into the hearts of
the community as speculations swirled about what might have happened.
Was she abducted by some one that she met at
the art sale, was her a strange husband involved, or
was it the work of a stranger The case took
a devastating turn on December tenth, two thousand fifteen, when
(37:49):
Karen's decomposed body was discovered in the wooded area near
a cemetery less than three miles from her home. Her
remains were concealed under foliage, and the area appeared to
have been deliberately chosen to hide her body. An autopsy
revealed that she had suffered blunt forced trauma to the head.
The discovery confirmed what many had feared, Karen Swift had
(38:11):
been murdered. However, the identity of her killer remained a mystery,
and the investigation into her death became more complex as
authorities sifted through a growing list of suspects. Karen's life
was undergoing significant changes at the time of her death.
She had recently filed for divorce from David Swift, citing
irreconcilable differences. Friends described the marriage as troubled, with Karen
(38:34):
seeking a fresh start. The divorce proceedings, however, were contentious,
and David's behavior came under scrutiny following Karen's disappearance. In
addition to her marital struggles, Karen had been involved in
local fitness groups and was active on social media. Her
outgoing personality and wide circle of acquaintances led investigators to
(38:54):
explore whether someone she knew could have harbored ill intentions.
One of the more egaging aspects of the case was
the yard sale Karen hosted on the day before her disappearance.
A yard sale is a public event attracting strangers to
a private residence. Investigators considered the possibility that Karen's killer
might have been someone who attended the sale and used
(39:15):
it as an opportunity to target her. However, no concrete
evidence linked any of the yard sale attendees to the murder.
As the investigation progressed, David Swift became a person of interest,
Though he publicly denied any involvement, his strained relationship with
Karen in his presence of the family home on the
night of her disappearance drew suspicion. Friends of Karen claimed
(39:39):
that she expressed fear of David in the week's leading
up to her death, and there were rumors of past
domestic disputes, and despite these allegations, authorities did not charge
David Swift with any crime. He cooperated with the investigation
and maintained his innocence. But the cloud of suspicion continued
to hang over him. Other theories emerged as well. Some
(40:00):
speculated that Karen's killer could have been a stranger who
abducted her after her car broke down. Others suggested that
she might have been the victim of some one she
had met through her social circles or online activity. However,
none of those theories produced definitive leads. As months turned
into years, the investigation to Karen Swift's murder stalled. Despite
(40:21):
the efforts of law enforcement and private investigators, no arrests
were made and no new evidence came to light. The
lack of witnesses and forensic evidence left the case at
a standstill, frustrating Karen's family and friends. The community of
Dyersburg remained haunted by Karen's death. Her children, left without
their mother, faced the difficult task of moving forward while
(40:43):
grappling with unanswered questions surrounding her murder. Karen's friends continued
to advocate for justice, organizing memorials and raising awareness about
her case in the hopes of keeping it in the
public eye. Several key questions remain unanswered. Who killed Karen's
Was it someone she knew or a random attacker. Investigators
(41:04):
have never publicly identified a suspect or motive. The flat
tires on Karen's vehicles suggest that she may have been
forced to stop, but it is unclear whether this was
staged or coincidental. While there is no evidence tying the
yard sale to her murder, the timing raises questions about
whether someone who attended the sale might have returned later,
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and despite extensive efforts by law enforcement, the case remains unsolved,
leading to frustration and speculation about investigative missteps or lack
of resources. Karen Swift's murder remains one of the most
perplexing and tragic cases in Tennessee's recent history. Her family
continues to seek answers, holding out hope that new evidence
(41:46):
will emerge or that someone with knowledge of the crime
will come forward. In the meantime, her case serves as
a chilling reminder of how quickly life can change and
the enduring pain of unanswered questions. For the residence of Dyersburg,
the loss of Karen Swift as a scar that is
yet to heal. Her vibrant spirits and love for her
(42:06):
children are remembered even as the search for her killer continues.
In twenty eighteen, the quiet neighborhoods of Fort Worth, Texas
became the hunting grounds for a predator. Which should have
(42:27):
been ordinary, friendly interactions during community garage sales turned into
a nightmare as a series of crimes struck fear into
unsuspecting homeowners, and the media is soon dubbed the criminal
the Texas Garage Sales Stalker, a name that sent shivers
down the spines of those hosting and attending these everyday events.
(42:48):
Garage sales are a cherish tradition in many American neighborhoods,
and Fort Worth was no exception. Families used these sales
to declutter their homes and make extra cash while fostering
a sense of commune. It was a save casual environment
where strangers could peruse items and neighbors could connect over
shared stories. But in twenty eighteen, these gatherings became a
(43:11):
fertile ground for a monster, someone who saw the sales
not as an opportunity to bargain, but as a chance
to prey on the vulnerable. The terror began in March
when a woman hosting a garage sale noticed a man
lingering longer than most customers. He asked innocuous questions about
a piece of furniture, but seemed more interested in observing
(43:32):
her movements in the layout of her home. Later that evening,
as she was packing up unsold items, the man returned,
only this time he was armed. He demanded cash and valuables,
forcing his way into her home. Though she survived the
encounter physically unharmed, she was deeply shaken. The man escaped
(43:52):
before police arrived, who chalked it up to a one
off robbery. However, within weeks, similar incidents began cropping up
nearby neighborhoods. By late spring, a clear pattern had emerged.
The attacker targeted women hosting garage sales alone or with
minimal help. He struck near the end of the sales,
when most items were packed away and neighbors had dispersed.
(44:16):
Victims described him as a middle aged man with an
average build, wearing unremarkable clothing a face that would easily
blend into a crowd. The attacker used different methods to
enter homes. Sometimes he pretended to inquire about items, other
times he forced his way inside. Once in, he demanded
money and occasionally ransacked the home for valuables. Though the
(44:39):
robberies didn't always involve physical violence, the psychological toll was immense.
Victims were left traumatized, fearing for their safety in the
sanctity of their homes. The media caught wind of the
crimes by early summer. Headlines warned homeowners to stay vigilant
during garage sales, and community forms were flooded with accounts
of strange encounters. Residents shared tips on staying safe, such
(45:03):
as doing garage sales and pairs or groups, and not
allowing customers inside their homes for any reason. Despite these precautions,
the attacker continued to strike. Police advised the public to
report suspicious behavior, but identifying the stalker proved difficult. He
avoided security cameras and chose neighborhoods with limited surveillance. His
(45:24):
nondescript appearance and tendency to leave quickly made it hard
for witnesses to provide detailed descriptions. In July, one victim's
quick thinking nearly led to the attacker's capture. A woman
hosting a garage sale noticed a man fitting the stoker's
description loitering near her driveway. She became suspicious when he
(45:44):
lingered without showing much interest in her items. She discreetly
alerted a neighbor who began taking photos of the man
from across the street. Sensing he had been spotted, the
man left abruptly, abandoning any plans he might have had
to strike. The neighbors shared the photo with police, but
they were grainy and insufficient for identification, and still the
(46:05):
encounter marked a very strong turning point. The community became
determined to stop the stoker, and the stalker's reign of
terror came to a head. In late August, a woman
hosting a garage sale in the outskirts of Fort Worth
was attacked after her event ended. This time, the encounter
escalated to violence. The attacker struck her with the butt
(46:25):
of his gun, leaving her unconscious, before fleeing with cash
and jewelry. She was found by a neighbor who had
heard the commotion and called nine one one. The brutality
of this attack intensified the urgency of the investigation. Police
increased patrols in neighborhoods where garage sales were common, and
set up decoy sales in an attempt to lure the stoker.
(46:46):
The community's vigilance also grew with many canceling their sales altogether,
moving them to safer centralized locations. The breakthrough came in September,
when the stalker grew careless. He attempted to rob a
garage sale in a neighborhood that had formed a community
watch group. Unbeknownst to him, several members were observing the
sale from nearby cars, ready to intervene if anything seemed
(47:10):
to miss. When he approached the homeowner aggressively, the group
sprang into action, blocking his escape route and calling the police.
The man tried to flee on foot, but was quickly apprehended.
He was identified as Mark Eldridge, a forty three year
old drifter with a history of petty theft and burglary.
Eldridge had no fixed address, which explained his ability to
(47:33):
move undetected between neighborhoods. Police found stolen items in his vehicle,
linking him to several of the robberies. Eldridge's arrests brought
a sense of relief to fort Worth, but the scars
he left behind were lasting. Many victims struggled with anxiety
and fear in the community's sense of safety was deeply shaken.
(47:53):
Garage sales once a simple and enjoyable tradition became a
reminder of vulnerability. During his trial, Eldridge showed little remorse.
He was convicted on multiple accounts of robbery, assault, and
burglary and sentenced to twenty five years in prison. Prosecutors
described him as a predator who exploited trust and community
spirit for his own gain. The Texas garage sales Stoker
(48:17):
case highlighted the dangers of seemingly innocent events in the
importance of vigilance. Residents of Fort Worth took the lessons
to heart, implementing safety measures to protect themselves in the future.
These included hosting sales and groups, using visible security cameras,
and maintaining constant communication with neighbors. Though the ordeal was traumatic,
(48:37):
it also brought the community closer together. Neighbors who had
been strangers banded together to support one another, ensuring that
no one faced the threat alone. Hey, friends, thanks for listening.
Click that notification bell to be alerted of all future narrations.
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(48:59):
p m. Eastern Time, and there are super fun live
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be sure to submit them over at my email Let's
read submissions at gmail dot com and maybe even hear
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