August 18, 2025 • 8 mins
#horrorstories #reddithorrorstories #ScaryStories #creepypasta #horrortales #copstories #hauntingmemories #tragicaccident #rainynight #psychologicalhorror This haunting story follows a police officer haunted by the tragic night a family was struck down on a rain-soaked Rockaway Boulevard. Torn between duty and grief, the cop relives the chilling memories of that fateful event that changed lives forever. A gripping tale of trauma, guilt, and the shadows that linger long after the storm passes. horrorstories, reddithorrorstories, scarystories, horrorstory, creepypasta, horrortales, copstory, hauntingmemory, tragicaccident, psychologicaltrauma, rainynight, guilt, grief, policehorror, darkmemories, emotionalhorror, urbanhorror, chillingevent, suspense, realhorrorstories
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Transcript
Episode Transcript
Available transcripts are automatically generated. Complete accuracy is not guaranteed.
Speaker 1 (00:00):
You know, there's stuff I've seen on the job that
I can talk about at the drop of a hat.
I've been running my mouth about my time as a
cop in n y C. For forty freakin years now. Friends, family,
old co workers. They've all heard my greatest hits. Some
of my stories are wild, some are hilarious, a bunch
of them are sad, A handful are downright insane. I mean,
(00:24):
I worked the streets in the eighties and nineties. That
was one hell of a time to be in uniform
in New York. Crack was everywhere, crime was off the charts,
and every day felt like some mix of a movie
and a war zone. But there's one story, though, one
I don't trot out when people are asking me to
entertain them over beers or around the barbecue. This one
(00:47):
I've probably told it to two people in my whole life,
and even then I didn't go into detail. Hell, I'm
not even sure why I'm telling it now, except maybe
it's been rattling around in my head for too long.
It was early in my career. I had just graduated
from the police academy. Badge still shiny, boots, still stiff
and uncomfortable, my head still full of that I'm going
(01:10):
to save the world nonsense they pump into you during training.
I was twenty one years old, still a kid really.
My first assignment was in the one hundred thirteenth Precinct
in South Jamaica, Queen's busy neighborhood, not the worst in
a city, but busy enough that you didn't have time
to get bored. We worked out of a sector car,
(01:32):
basically our patrol area, and my partner and I thought
we were hot stuff. It was like playing Cops and
Robbers for real, except there were real guns, real bad guys,
and real consequences if you screwed up. But we loved it.
This was nineteen eighty two, maybe eighty three, and every
day brought something different. This particular night sticks out like
(01:55):
a jagged piece of glass in my memory. I can
still smell the rain when I think about it. We
were working a four by twelve shift, which meant we
clocked in at three p m. And didn't get off
until about eleven thirty at night. That day it was
raining like God was trying to drown the city. I
mean sheets of water buckets dumping out of the sky NonStop,
(02:18):
the kind of rain that soaks you through, even if
you're only outside for thirty seconds. Nights like that are
usually slow. Most people don't want to be out unless
they absolutely have to, and even the criminals seemed to
take the night off. It was early evening, already pitch
black outside thanks to the clouds, and we were just
cruising around our sector, trying to stay awake, when we
(02:41):
heard a call on the radio. It was a foot
cop stationed over on Rockaway Boulevard. The guy was asking
for assistance with an auto accident. At first, it sounded routine,
but then we caught the edge in his voice, the
way his words came out a little too fast, a
little too tight. You get to know the sound of
(03:01):
fear on the radio pretty quick in this job. This
wasn't just I need a hand with traffic kind of nervous.
This was something else. My partner and I exchanged a look.
He grabbed the mic and said one thirteen, George, we're
on it, and I hit the lights and headed that way.
Rockaway Boulevard cuts across the corner of the precinct like
(03:23):
an artery. It's four lanes wide and funnel straight into
j f K Airport. So it sees a lot of traffic.
Even on a rainy night, there are cars blowing through there.
When we rolled up, it was chaos. I slowed the
car and squinted through the rain, smeared windshield, trying to
make sense of what I was seeing. At first, it
(03:45):
just looked like debris scattered along the southbound side of
the road, bits of something strewn for about fifty feet.
Then I realized it wasn't Abrie. The stuff in the
road was people, mostly little people children. I felt my
stomach twist into a knot as I pulled up to
the first pile. The rain was hammering down so hard
(04:08):
the water bounced off the pavement. Street lights reflected in
the wet asphalt, and neon signs from the near by
storefronts made the scene feel surreal, like some nightmare I
couldn't wake up from. The first body I came to
was a young girl, couldn't have been more than seven
or eight years old. She was wearing this bright yellow
jacket that made her stand out like a highlighter against
(04:30):
the gray black road. I jumped out of the car
and ran to her. She was lying on her back,
twisted in a way no human body should ever twist.
You could tell just by looking at her that bones
were broken, probably a lot of them. Her eyes were
wide open, staring straight up at the sky, unblinking in
(04:50):
the rain, and then, God help me, she locked eyes
with me. There are moments in this job that burned
themselves into your memory so deeply you can and still
feel them decades later. This was one of those moments.
Her mouth was open like she wanted to scream, but
no sound was coming out. It was full of blood,
(05:11):
bubbling and gurgling as it poured out the sides of
her lips. I dropped to my knees beside her and
reached for her mouth. Without even thinking, my fingers swept inside,
trying to clear her airway. All I felt were broken
teeth and what I think was part of her jawbone,
mixed with the warm, metallic slickness of blood. As fast
(05:31):
as I could scoop it out, her mouth would fill
up again. Blood kept coming, and the whole time, God,
the whole time, her eyes never left mine. They weren't
just looking at me, they were screaming at me. When
we'd first pulled up and seen the scene, my partner
had already jumped on the radio, calling for back up
(05:52):
and a dozen ambulances. I could hear sirens in the
distance now, but they sounded so far away. The other
cops started arriving, running up and down the street to
check on the other bodies, tiny bodies strewn across the pavement.
I stayed kneeling in the rain, one hand trying to
keep her airway clear, the other holding her small, cold hand.
(06:15):
I kept saying the same thing over and over, like
some broken record, You're gonna be all right, You're gonna
be all right, You're gonna be all right. I don't
know if I believed it. I don't know if she
could even hear me. Eventually, E MT showed up, real prose,
the kind of people who don't panic even in the
(06:35):
middle of absolute hell. They moved fast, assessing each victim,
triaging the ones they could save. When they got to
me and the little girl in the yellow jacket, they
didn't waste time. They gently rolled her onto a stretcher,
strapped her in, and loaded her into the back of
an ambulance. The doors closed and she was gone. My
(06:57):
partner and I stood there for a second in the rain,
watching the ambulance's red tail lights fade into the distance.
Then we got back in our car. Neither of us
said much, what the hell was there to say. We
drove back to the precinct, peeled off our soaked uniforms
and changed into dry clothes. Then we went back out
(07:19):
to finish the rest of our shift like nothing had happened.
That's just how it was. Later that night, we were
in the precinct parking lot when an ambulance rolled in.
A couple of EMTs were standing around shooting the breeze
with some other cops. The rain had finally stopped and
the air smelled clean, almost too clean. We walked over
(07:41):
to join them. Someone brought up the accident. What a
freaking mess, one of the cops muttered, shaking his head.
Total shit show. An EMT agreed. I tried to sound
casual as I asked the EMT, Hey, what happened to
that little girl, the one in the yellow jacket, seven
(08:01):
maybe eight years old? He glanced at me and his
face didn't change. His voice was calm when he said it. Oh,
she died right after we put her in the ambulance.
That was it. We all went back to talking about nothing,
laughing at stupid jokes, pretending we didn't care. But I cared.
Forty years later, I still care, and I can still
(08:25):
see her eyes, the ones that were screaming at me
the end.
You know, there's stuff I've seen on the job that
I can talk about at the drop of a hat.
I've been running my mouth about my time as a
cop in n y C. For forty freakin years now. Friends, family,
old co workers. They've all heard my greatest hits. Some
of my stories are wild, some are hilarious, a bunch
of them are sad, A handful are downright insane. I mean,
(00:24):
I worked the streets in the eighties and nineties. That
was one hell of a time to be in uniform
in New York. Crack was everywhere, crime was off the charts,
and every day felt like some mix of a movie
and a war zone. But there's one story, though, one
I don't trot out when people are asking me to
entertain them over beers or around the barbecue. This one
(00:47):
I've probably told it to two people in my whole life,
and even then I didn't go into detail. Hell, I'm
not even sure why I'm telling it now, except maybe
it's been rattling around in my head for too long.
It was early in my career. I had just graduated
from the police academy. Badge still shiny, boots, still stiff
and uncomfortable, my head still full of that I'm going
(01:10):
to save the world nonsense they pump into you during training.
I was twenty one years old, still a kid really.
My first assignment was in the one hundred thirteenth Precinct
in South Jamaica, Queen's busy neighborhood, not the worst in
a city, but busy enough that you didn't have time
to get bored. We worked out of a sector car,
(01:32):
basically our patrol area, and my partner and I thought
we were hot stuff. It was like playing Cops and
Robbers for real, except there were real guns, real bad guys,
and real consequences if you screwed up. But we loved it.
This was nineteen eighty two, maybe eighty three, and every
day brought something different. This particular night sticks out like
(01:55):
a jagged piece of glass in my memory. I can
still smell the rain when I think about it. We
were working a four by twelve shift, which meant we
clocked in at three p m. And didn't get off
until about eleven thirty at night. That day it was
raining like God was trying to drown the city. I
mean sheets of water buckets dumping out of the sky NonStop,
(02:18):
the kind of rain that soaks you through, even if
you're only outside for thirty seconds. Nights like that are
usually slow. Most people don't want to be out unless
they absolutely have to, and even the criminals seemed to
take the night off. It was early evening, already pitch
black outside thanks to the clouds, and we were just
cruising around our sector, trying to stay awake, when we
(02:41):
heard a call on the radio. It was a foot
cop stationed over on Rockaway Boulevard. The guy was asking
for assistance with an auto accident. At first, it sounded routine,
but then we caught the edge in his voice, the
way his words came out a little too fast, a
little too tight. You get to know the sound of
(03:01):
fear on the radio pretty quick in this job. This
wasn't just I need a hand with traffic kind of nervous.
This was something else. My partner and I exchanged a look.
He grabbed the mic and said one thirteen, George, we're
on it, and I hit the lights and headed that way.
Rockaway Boulevard cuts across the corner of the precinct like
(03:23):
an artery. It's four lanes wide and funnel straight into
j f K Airport. So it sees a lot of traffic.
Even on a rainy night, there are cars blowing through there.
When we rolled up, it was chaos. I slowed the
car and squinted through the rain, smeared windshield, trying to
make sense of what I was seeing. At first, it
(03:45):
just looked like debris scattered along the southbound side of
the road, bits of something strewn for about fifty feet.
Then I realized it wasn't Abrie. The stuff in the
road was people, mostly little people children. I felt my
stomach twist into a knot as I pulled up to
the first pile. The rain was hammering down so hard
(04:08):
the water bounced off the pavement. Street lights reflected in
the wet asphalt, and neon signs from the near by
storefronts made the scene feel surreal, like some nightmare I
couldn't wake up from. The first body I came to
was a young girl, couldn't have been more than seven
or eight years old. She was wearing this bright yellow
jacket that made her stand out like a highlighter against
(04:30):
the gray black road. I jumped out of the car
and ran to her. She was lying on her back,
twisted in a way no human body should ever twist.
You could tell just by looking at her that bones
were broken, probably a lot of them. Her eyes were
wide open, staring straight up at the sky, unblinking in
(04:50):
the rain, and then, God help me, she locked eyes
with me. There are moments in this job that burned
themselves into your memory so deeply you can and still
feel them decades later. This was one of those moments.
Her mouth was open like she wanted to scream, but
no sound was coming out. It was full of blood,
(05:11):
bubbling and gurgling as it poured out the sides of
her lips. I dropped to my knees beside her and
reached for her mouth. Without even thinking, my fingers swept inside,
trying to clear her airway. All I felt were broken
teeth and what I think was part of her jawbone,
mixed with the warm, metallic slickness of blood. As fast
(05:31):
as I could scoop it out, her mouth would fill
up again. Blood kept coming, and the whole time, God,
the whole time, her eyes never left mine. They weren't
just looking at me, they were screaming at me. When
we'd first pulled up and seen the scene, my partner
had already jumped on the radio, calling for back up
(05:52):
and a dozen ambulances. I could hear sirens in the
distance now, but they sounded so far away. The other
cops started arriving, running up and down the street to
check on the other bodies, tiny bodies strewn across the pavement.
I stayed kneeling in the rain, one hand trying to
keep her airway clear, the other holding her small, cold hand.
(06:15):
I kept saying the same thing over and over, like
some broken record, You're gonna be all right, You're gonna
be all right, You're gonna be all right. I don't
know if I believed it. I don't know if she
could even hear me. Eventually, E MT showed up, real prose,
the kind of people who don't panic even in the
(06:35):
middle of absolute hell. They moved fast, assessing each victim,
triaging the ones they could save. When they got to
me and the little girl in the yellow jacket, they
didn't waste time. They gently rolled her onto a stretcher,
strapped her in, and loaded her into the back of
an ambulance. The doors closed and she was gone. My
(06:57):
partner and I stood there for a second in the rain,
watching the ambulance's red tail lights fade into the distance.
Then we got back in our car. Neither of us
said much, what the hell was there to say. We
drove back to the precinct, peeled off our soaked uniforms
and changed into dry clothes. Then we went back out
(07:19):
to finish the rest of our shift like nothing had happened.
That's just how it was. Later that night, we were
in the precinct parking lot when an ambulance rolled in.
A couple of EMTs were standing around shooting the breeze
with some other cops. The rain had finally stopped and
the air smelled clean, almost too clean. We walked over
(07:41):
to join them. Someone brought up the accident. What a
freaking mess, one of the cops muttered, shaking his head.
Total shit show. An EMT agreed. I tried to sound
casual as I asked the EMT, Hey, what happened to
that little girl, the one in the yellow jacket, seven
(08:01):
maybe eight years old? He glanced at me and his
face didn't change. His voice was calm when he said it. Oh,
she died right after we put her in the ambulance.
That was it. We all went back to talking about nothing,
laughing at stupid jokes, pretending we didn't care. But I cared.
Forty years later, I still care, and I can still
(08:25):
see her eyes, the ones that were screaming at me
the end.
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