Episode 5 - An alien invasion in Kentucky and a murder solved from beyond the grave

This podcast episode delves into the unsettling tales of the Night of the Hollow Eyes and the Murder of Teresita Basa, exploring the thin veil between reality and the extraordinary. The first narrative, set in the hills of Kentucky, recounts a harrowing encounter with alien beings that disrupts the lives of the Sutton family, casting them into a night of terror and uncertainty. The second story shifts to Chicago, where the tragic murder of Teresita Basa unveils a chilling mystery that transcends death itself. Through a series of uncanny events, including a voice from beyond that leads to the identification of the murderer, the episode challenges our understanding of justice and the supernatural. Together, these tales invite listeners to contemplate the nature of reality as it frays at the edges.

The narrative unfolds against the backdrop of a seemingly tranquil summer night in Kelly, Kentucky, where the Sutton family, a tight-knit group of simple folk, prepares for an ordinary evening. This scenario, however, is abruptly disrupted by an extraordinary event: the appearance of unearthly beings during a night of palpable tension and fear. The story delves deeply into the visceral emotions experienced by the Suttons as they confront the inexplicable presence of alien creatures, described with haunting detail—their reflective, metallic skin and hollow, glowing eyes serve to evoke a profound sense of dread. As the night progresses, the family's fight for survival against these entities becomes not merely a physical struggle but also an exploration of the boundaries between reality and the surreal. The chaos culminates in a frantic escape to the local police station, where their implausible tale is met with skepticism, raising questions about belief, fear, and the nature of reality itself. This chilling account leaves an indelible mark on the listener, compelling them to ponder the mysteries that lie just beyond the veil of the ordinary.

Transitioning from the eerie events in Kentucky, the second story takes us to the urban landscape of Chicago, where the life of Teresita Basa, a dedicated respiratory therapist, is tragically cut short by a brutal murder. The narrative intricately weaves through the details surrounding her death, painting a portrait of a woman whose life, though seemingly mundane, was filled with unfulfilled potential and quiet grace. Following her murder, the case stagnates in a pool of uncertainty until an unexpected twist emerges: a series of vivid dreams experienced by Remy Chua, a colleague who becomes a conduit for Teresita's spirit, guiding the investigation from beyond the grave. This aspect of the story introduces an element of the supernatural, as Remy's experiences force both the characters and the audience to grapple with the concept of the afterlife and the lengths to which one might go to achieve justice. The resolution of Teresita's case is as complex as the life she led, revealing the intersections of the living and the dead, and challenging preconceived notions of justice.

Both narratives serve as compelling examples of how the extraordinary can disrupt the mundane, reflecting on themes of fear, survival, and the quest for truth in a world where reality often frays. The juxtaposition of the alien encounter with the spiritual justice sought in Teresita's story invites listeners to contemplate the nature of existence itself—what lies beyond our understanding, and how do we confront the inexplicable? Each tale underscores the fragility of normalcy and the profound mysteries that inhabit the spaces between our reality and the unknown, leaving us with lingering questions about our perceptions and beliefs.

Takeaways:

• The first tale delves into the eerie Night of the Hollow Eyes, capturing the terror of an alien encounter in Kentucky.
• In this episode, we explore the perplexing murder of Teresita Basa, revealing the intertwining of life, death, and justice.

Episode Transcript

(00:02):
Imagine a world teetering onthe edge of the familiar, a place
where the fabric of theeveryday begins to unravel, revealing
glimpses of the extraordinarylurking beneath. You're about to
embark on a journey into theenigmatic, where the peculiar and
the perplexing intertwine,where every tale twists the mind
and tugs at the spirit. It's adescent into the strange, the mysterious,

(00:26):
and the unexplained. This iswhen reality frays. New episodes
are published every Monday andThursday, and when Reality Phrase
is available everywhere, finepodcasts are found. Before we move
on, please hit that Follow orSubscribe button and turn on all

(00:47):
reminders so you're alertedwhen new episodes are released. Today's
episode contains two stories.First up is the Night of the Hollow
Eyes, a story of an alieninvasion in the hills of Kentucky.
And the second story of theday is the Murder of Teresita Basa,

(01:07):
a tale of a horrible death andjustice from beyond the grave. Now
let's get to the stories.Imagine a summer night deep in the
rolling hills near Kelly,Kentucky. A farmhouse stands alone,
its tin roof glinting under acrescent moon. The Sutton family

(01:29):
and friends, simple folkrooted in soil and faith, are preparing
for sleep, but unexpectedvisitors are about to upend their
world. Come along and steponto their porch. This is the story
of the Night of the HollowEyes. The summer of 1955 had scorched

(01:49):
Christian County, Kentucky,into submission. The merciless sun
had baked the red clay soiluntil it cracked like old leather.
Dust clung to boots porches,the wilted tobacco leaves drooping
in the fields around theSutton farmhouse. The house itself
was a relic of a bygone era,perched just outside the tiny burg

(02:11):
of Kelly. Its clapboard wallswere weathered gray and sagging under
the weight of decades. Noelectricity hummed through its bones,
but no telephone line tetheredit to the world. Just the flicker
of kerosene lamps and thecreak of floorboards warned smooth
by generations of hard living.Inside, the air was heavy with a

(02:33):
brew of sweat, cornbread,fried chicken, and the faint metallic
tang of lamp oil. Five adultsand seven children were outside,
seeking relief from thesweltering heat indoors, their voices
a chaotic symphony oflaughter, scolding, and the occasional
whine. It was a gathering bornof kinship and the restless itch

(02:56):
of a long, hot August. GlennieLankford, the family matriarch, sat
in a rocking chair, her steelgray hair pulled tight in a bun.
Her face was etched with linesfrom years of widowhood and toil.
She had raised her boys Luckyand JC, alone after her husband's
lungs gave out in 1942, herhands, rough as burlap, still carried

(03:21):
the strength of survival.Elmer Lucky Sutton, her eldest, sat
beside her in a rickety chairthat groaned beneath his weight.
He had earned his nickname inhis carnival days, dodging trouble
with a grin and a quick fist,but now he tilled the land and kept
the family fed. His brotherjc, stockier and quieter, leaned

(03:44):
against the porch railing,whittling a stick into nothing. Vera,
JC's wife, kept a close eye onthe children while June Taylor, a
soft spoken woman with nervoushands, hovered near her husband,
Billy Ray. Billy Ray Taylorwas the odd man out, a lanky Pennsylvanian
with a mop of dark hair and arestless energy that didn't fit the

(04:07):
slow drawl of rural Kentucky.He had met Lucky years back, working
the midway at a travelingcarnival. Billy Ray charmed rubes
with sleight of hand, andLucky wrestled drunks for extra cash.
Now he paced the Suttons yard,his boots scuffing puffs of dust
into the air. Dusk was alivewith a drone of cicadas and the rustle

(04:31):
of brittle leaves in thetender, dry trees. The sky stretched
wide, bruised with streaks oforange and purple. Waking up, Billy
Ray stopped dead as a light,blinding and unnatural, ripped across
the heavens. Look at that. Heshouted, pointing skyward. It was
a comet like streak, pulsingwith colors no painter could dream,

(04:54):
crimson bleeding into sapphireviolet, shimmering like a living
thing. It wasn't a star. Wasit a plane? It moved with intent,
arcing low over a gully a halfmile off before settling into the
shadowed trees. The childrenfell silent in wonder, but the adults
felt a wariness of theunknown. Rusty, a mangy mutt who

(05:17):
had been playing with thechildren, stared in the direction
of the gully, testing the air,scenting something he didn't like.
Rusty's hackles went up and hebarked, his voice sharp and frantic.
Something's out there, Luckysaid, low and tight. Lucky grabbed
a 12 gauge shotgun from itsperch by the door. Billy Ray dashed

(05:39):
inside and returned with apistol, which he tossed to J.C. and
3030 lever rifle for himself.Everyone get in the house, lucky
ordered as the men created abarrier to protect the women and
children. Gwenny herdedeveryone else inside, casting a worried
glance at her boys beforeclosing the door. The yard lay still,

(06:01):
save for Rusty's barking,until a shape emerged near the chicken
coop. It was small, no tallerthan a child, but wrong, terribly
wrong. Its skin shimmered likemolten silver, wet and reflective
under the moonlight. Its armsstretched long and thin, ending in
claws that glinted faintly andits head, too large, too round, tilted

(06:25):
as if sizing them up. But theeyes were the worst, hollow, glowing
yellow like twin lanternsburning a cold alien fire. They didn't
blink, didn't waver, justbored into the men with an unyielding
stare. Billy Ray fired, therifle's crack shattering the silence.

(06:46):
The thing flipped backward andtumbled a few feet, but it wasn't
dead. With a sound like nailsscratching on tin, it leapt up, apparently
uninjured by the heavy bulletand skittered away into the shadows.
Lord almighty, Lucky whisperedin disbelief. What in the hell was
that? The men saw moremovement in the trees and Rusty exploded

(07:10):
in a fresh round of barking.They held their weapons tight, ready
to shoot, but neither had atarget. Get inside, lucky said, grabbing
Rusty's scruff and dragginghim along. Bursting through the door,
Lucky ignored the concernedlooks. The younger children were
crying and JC snapped at themto be quiet. Billy Ray hurried to

(07:33):
a window, recoiling soviolently he fell backwards. He had
just come face to face withone of the thick things with only
a thin screen separating them.Another appeared at a different window,
its claws scratching the frameas it peered inside, its glowing
eyes locked on the kids. Theshotgun roared as Lucky blasted through

(07:55):
the glass point blank. Thecreature somersaulted away unharmed,
its metallic skin ringing witha high, eerie chime that lingered
in the air inside. Chaoserupted. Gwenny's voice cut through
like a whip. Crack. Get theyoungins back. She grabbed up a double
barrel shotgun at least as oldas she was, and herded the whimpering,

(08:18):
wide eyed children into theback room. Vera and June followed,
shoving a dresser against thedoor while Glennie raised the shotgun
and pointed it at the window.She had faced down bears and not
a few bandits trying to takefrom her family over the years, but
this was a terror she couldn'tname, a violation of the natural
order she'd always trusted.The creatures 12, 15, maybe more,

(08:44):
swarmed the house, theirmovements jerky and unnatural, like
puppets animated by invisiblestrings. They skittered across the
tin roof, claws scraping likechalk on slate, sending shivers down
spines. They tapped at thewalls with a rhythm that set teeth
on edge. Billy Ray swore. Onegrabbed his hair when he leaned out

(09:06):
to shoot, its grip icy andunyielding like a dead man's hand,
until Lucky's blast sent ittumbling off the overhang. Bullets
and shotgun loads blew out allthe windows, but the things were
impervious and kept coming,their hollow eyes glinting in the
dark. Gwenny fought too, butthe old shotgun could only fire twice

(09:28):
before having to be reloaded.That's what she was doing. Attention
momentarily off the windowwhen one of the creatures leapt through
to stand staring at thecowering children. Its oversized
head was cocked, bat like,ears twitching faintly. Silver skin
shimmered, rippling like waterunder the lamplight. The women screamed,

(09:49):
rushing to place themselvesbetween the creature and the children.
Glennie fumbled fresh shellsinto the shotgun and immediately
fired at the intruder. Theforce of the blast sent it tumbling,
but it snapped right back ontoits feet. Glennie pulled the second
trigger, a load of buckshotsslamming the creature against the
wall. Raising the heavyshotgun above her head, Glennie started

(10:13):
forward, intending to beat itto death. But it leapt through the
open window and disappeared.Hours dragged on. The children sobbed
quietly, their faces buried inblankets, while the adults reloaded
and fought with shaky hands.JC Stood guard at the back window,
his jaw clenched tight. Verawhispered prayers under her breath.

(10:35):
June clung to Billy Ray, hersoft voice pleading, we gotta get
outta here. But he shook heroff. Not till they're gone. By 11pm
the creatures had quieted, butLucky could still see them out there,
lurking just beyond thelamplight. We gotta make a run for
it, lucky said, his voicehoarse. Gwenny nodded, her jaw set

(10:59):
like iron. They made adesperate plan. Pile into the cars
and run for Hopkinsville,eight miles away. The adults grabbed
kids and burst out of thefront door in a frantic scramble
to two battered Fords parkedunder the brake branches of an old
oak. The creatures didn't tryto stop them, just watched from the
deepest shadows. Enginessputtered to life, tires kicking

(11:23):
up clouds of dust as they toredown the rutted road, the night swallowing
their taillights. TheHopkinsville police station was a
blur of light and noise, astark contrast to the suffocating
dark they'd fled. They spilledinside, a tangle of fear and exhaustion,
their voices overlapping in afrantic chorus. We've been fighting

(11:45):
them for hours. Lucky shouted,slamming his fist on the desk. Little
men, silver glowing, yellereyes trying to get in our house.
Billy Ray paced, his shirtsoaked with sweat, while Glennie
stood rigid, her shotgun stillin hand, daring anyone to call her
a liar. The kids clung to herskirts, their faces streaked with

(12:07):
tears and dirt. SheriffRussell Greenwell, a grizzled man
with a skeptic squint, lookedthem all up and down. He saw the
terror in their eyes andGlennie's unyielding stare, then
slowly nodded to himself as hereached a decision within minutes,
a convoy rolled out, sixdeputies and the sheriff, armed like

(12:29):
they were ready for war. Atthe farmhouse, the silence was oppressive,
the air heavy with the scentof spent shells and something acrid,
unplaceable. The deputiesswept the property, their flashlight
beams cutting through thedark. They found more bullet holes
in the house than they caredto count. Spent shells were scattered

(12:50):
like fallen leaves. They alsofound a strange patch of soil near
the gully that glowed faintlylike spilled phosphorus, and it was
warm to the touch. The sheriffnoted claw marks on the roof and
window frames, fresh, unevenscratches that defied explanation.
But there were no tracks, noblood, and no bodies. Dawn crept

(13:13):
over the hills, painting thesky pink. The Suttons returned, shocked
and weary. Their home was abattlefield of shattered glass, splintered
wood, and an echo of terror.Gwennie stood on the porch, staring
at the woods, her shotguncradled in the crook of an army.
They'll come again, she said,her voice flat but certain. They

(13:35):
ain't done with us. Dawnbreaks over Kelly, Kentucky, and
the goblins are gone, vanishedas if they'd never been other than
terrified. None of the Suttonsnor their friends were harmed. Were
these explorers from a distantworld? Or spirits that slipped through
a crack in the night? Orfigments born of a fear of the unknown?

(13:58):
The gun smoke cleared, but themystery lingers, etched in the scratches
on a farmhouse wall. Today'ssecond story is the murder of Teresita
Basa. Quiet street in Chicago,a city of steel and shadow where
the hum of daily life masksthe whispers of the unseen. Here,

(14:20):
Teresita Basa, a woman ofgentle grace and unassuming routine,
steps unknowingly into amoment that will echo beyond her
final breath. A brutal murder,a life snuffed out in the flicker
of a blade, and a case thatmight have faded into the city's
ledger of unsolved sorrowsuntil the impossible intervenes.

(14:41):
Picture a voice from beyond, aplea carried on the wind, guiding
the living to unravel a crimethe dead cannot forget. This is no
ordinary tale of justice, buta descent into a realm where reality
frays. This is the story ofthe murder of Teresita Basa. On the

(15:04):
evening of February 21, 1977,a fire broke out in a modest apartment
building in a quietresidential stretch on Chicago's
north side. Firefightersarrived around 8:30pm expecting a
routine call. But what theyfound in apartment 15B was anything
but ordinary. Beneath asmoldering mattress lay the body

(15:26):
of Teresita Basa, a 47 yearold Filipino American woman. She
was Naked, a butcher knifeplunged deep into her chest, pinning
her to the floor. The firestarted with an accelerant that was
most likely gasoline hadcharred the mattress and singed the
walls, but failed to fullyengulf the room, preserving the grim

(15:48):
t. Her clothes were foldedneatly on a chair nearby, a detail
that struck investigators asoddly deliberate. There were no signs
of a struggle or forced entry,and the apartment's door was locked
when responders arrived.Missing were a jade pendant and a
pearl cocktail ring, itemsTeresita often wore, suggesting robbery

(16:11):
as a motive. Yet the stagednature of the scene hinted at something
more more personal, morecalculated. The Chicago police classified
Teresita's death as ahomicide, but leads were scarce.
Neighbors reported hearingnothing unusual, though One elderly
woman, Mrs. Kowalski,mentioned a faint humming sound from

(16:33):
Teresita's apartment earlierthat day, a detail dismissed as irrelevant.
With no witnesses, nofingerprints beyond Teresita's and
a victim who seemed to have noenemies, the case stalled. Detectives
canvassed her workplace andsocial circle, but failed to find
anything that could lead themto a potential suspect. Teresita's

(16:56):
death became a silent mysteryin a city accustomed to louder crimes.
Teresita Lachica Basa was bornin 1929 in the Philippines. She immigrated
to the United states in the1960s, chasing the American dream
during a wave of Filipinoprofessionals entering the healthcare
field. A trained respiratorytherapist, she worked at Edgewater

(17:20):
Hospital, a mid tier facilityon Chicago's north side known for
its diverse staff. Teresitawas reserved, almost reclusive, living
alone in her small apartmentadorned with Filipino trinkets and
a well worn upright piano. Shewas pursuing a master's degree in
music at NorthwesternUniversity, a passion that filled

(17:43):
her off hours. Colleaguesrecalled her soft spoken demeanor
and meticulous work ethic. Butshe kept her personal life private.
No boyfriend, no close friendsoutside work, and only occasional
calls to family. Back inManila, Teresita's solitary existence
mirrored that of manyimmigrants, hard working, unnoticed,

(18:05):
blending into the background.Her death, however, thrust her into
a spotlight she'd neversought, revealing a woman whose quiet
life hid depths unimagined.The case might have faded into an
obscure footnote in history ifnot for Remy Chua, a 35 year old
medical technician atEdgewater Hospital. Remy, also Filipino,

(18:28):
had known Teresita casuallyshared shifts, polite nods in the
break room. But they weren'tfriends. In July 1977, five months
after the murder, Remy's lifetook a surreal turn. It began with
nightmares. Teresita's facepale and pleading, her voice Whispering
in tagalog, help me. Remybrushed it off as stress. Her job

(18:53):
was demanding, and she hadrecently given birth to her first
child with her husband, Jose,a mechanic. But the dreams escalated.
By late summer, she hadwakened trances, her body rigid,
speaking in a voice herhusband described as not hers, deeper,
accented, like Teresita's. Onenight, Jose watched in horror as

(19:15):
Remy sat bolt upright, eyesglassy, and recounted the murder.
He came to fix something. Hestabbed me. Alan Showery. He took
my jade pendant, my ring. Forhis woman. She described the scene.
The knife, the fire, thefolded clothes, with details unreleased

(19:35):
to the public. Jose, apragmatic man, initially thought
Remy was losing her mind. Butwhen she named Showery, an orderly
they vaguely knew from thehospital, he urged her to act. Remy
resisted. She feared ridiculeor worse, accusations of involvement.
But the trances grewrelentless. She'd collapse at work,

(19:58):
muttering in tagalog, oncehumming a melody coworkers recognized
as a piece Teresita played onher piano. Finally, in August, the
Chuas contacted detectiveJoseph Stacula, a seasoned cop with
a reputation for chasing longshots. Stacula was skeptical. Possession
wasn't in the police manual.But Remy's specificity unnerved him.

(20:21):
She didn't just name Showery.She pinpointed the stolen jewelry's
fate. A jade pendant and pearlring given to Showery's girlfriend,
Jaka Kamluk. Detective Staculagrudgingly decided to investigate.
Alan Showery was anunremarkable figure, 32, stocky,
with a mop of dark hair and aquiet demeanor. He'd worked at Edgewater

(20:45):
for two years, doing gruntwork like moving patients and fixing
equipment. He had a rap sheetof minor thefts, but no violence.
When questioned, he wascooperative, claiming he barely knew
Teresita and had been homewith Yanka on February 21st. His
alibi held until policevisited Yanka, a waitress at a local

(21:06):
diner. She answered the doorwearing Teresita's jade pendant.
The pearl ring sat on herdresser. Jacques said Showery gave
her the items as a surprisegift. While she couldn't recall the
specific date she had receivedthe jewelry, Detective Stacula narrowed
it down to a couple of daysafter the murder of Teresita. Faced

(21:28):
with this damning evidence,Showery's story unraveled. He confessed
he'd gone to Teresita'sapartment to repair a tv, a side
gig he did for extra cash,panicked when she caught him rifling
through her jewelry, stabbedher in a rage, and set fire to cover
it up, he pled guilty tomurder and robbery in 1979, receiving

(21:51):
a 14 year sentence of which heserved five before parole. In 1983.
The the case was solved, arare win for a cold file. But the
frayed reality of Remy'strances wasn't finished. Showery's
conviction closed the legalchapter, but a jarring twist emerged
years later, upending therobbery gone wrong narrative in prison,

(22:15):
Showery confided in acellmate, Eddie Lopez, that he didn't
recall the murder. He claimedhe had entered Teresita's apartment,
felt a wave of darkness andwoke up bloody, the knife in his
hand, the fire already lit,Lopez claimed. Showery wept, insisting
something else did it throughme. This echoed his initial defense,

(22:39):
blackout, no intent, which thecourt had rejected as a ploy. But
in 1984, Father DominicRinaldi, a Catholic priest who'd
ministered to showery in jail,came forward with a bombshell. Father
Dominic, a wiry man with apenchant for troubled souls, said
Showery begged him for anexorcism in 1980. He described showery

(23:03):
as tormented, cawing at hisskin, muttering about a voice that
pushed him to kill. During theritual, performed in a prison chapel,
Showery convulsed, vomiting ablack, tar like substance a hallmark
of demonic expulsion inCatholic tradition. The priest burned
sage, prayed in Latin andclaimed a heavy presence lifted from

(23:26):
the room. The priests keptthis quiet until Showery's death
in 1998, but swore it wastrue, backed by a guard's affidavit
of the exorcism. Was Showery acalculating thief and murderer or
a pawn of something from thatshadowy region where reality frays?

(23:48):
The stories presented areinspired by true events. Names may
have been changed for privacyreasons. New episodes of When Reality
Frays are uploaded everyMonday and Thursday. If you're enjoying
the journey into the strange,the mysterious and the unexplained,
be sure to press that Followor Subscribe button and turn on all

(24:09):
reminders so you're alertedwhenever an episode drops. Until
next time, thank you forlistening to When Reality phrase.