[Music] Hey friends, I'm so proud to announce that I'll be hosting a new podcast under the Ballin Studios umbrella. It's called A Twist of History and it's available wherever you listen to podcasts. The course of history never follows a straight line and these are the epic stories that have shaped the world we now live in. So please join us for the most heartpounding podcast in history. It's already got two episodes out and it's already ranking as the number one podcast in the history category. So, I'd be honored if you go check it out and give
it a follow and a rating. There'll be new episodes every Wednesday. And stick around to the end of this video to hear a quick sample. All links down below. Enjoy. [Music] [Music] Without boring you with all the minor details, I ended up in some unfortunate employment circumstances back when I was in my 20s and I turned to Craigslist to solve my money problems. I know a lot of you might be thinking, "Well, no wonder you ended up with a scary story." But honestly, it was a pretty sweet gig for a while. I posted just about
everywhere advertising just about any kind of service that kept me fully clothed and out of jail. And to my surprise, the thing that really took off was the courier service I offered. I got a call from a guy who sold what I lovingly call nerd stuff. He imported rare video games and trading cards from Japan, sought out rare consoles, hardware, and prototypes in the US, and then sold them to collectors around the tri-state area. He made a lot of money doing it, but he didn't have the time or the employees to get all his deliveries
done without a little help. And that is how he ended up becoming a regular customer of mine. I supplemented my between jobs income with other stuff. But my nerd guy would call at least once or twice a week. And by month two of being out of work and relying on Craigslist, I was basically working for this dude on a regular part-time basis. He even used to tip me sometimes when he made a big sale. And for the most part, all the deliveries he sent me on went nice and smoothly, except this one delivery, which almost
went spectacularly wrong. So, every now and then, my nerd guy would trust me with the delivery of something big and said half the reason he tipped me is because I did my job and delivered the card or game or whatever instead of just stealing it. He was paying me about $20 for local deliveries, more for ones that were further out, but the cards that I was delivering were worth hundreds of dollars to the right people. I didn't have any inclination to rob this poor guy. I just wanted an honest pay for honest work, but he
appreciated the honesty nevertheless. But the trust that formed also led him to trust me with more and more valuable items until this particular time when he said the card in my possession was worth almost $1,000. The high value stuff didn't bother me. I don't mean to sound cruel, but I was delivering to a lot of out ofshaped nerds that barely saw sunlight. Even if they did pull a gun on me and try to rob the card or whatever it was, I don't think they'd have the strength to pull the trigger or the eyesight to even
hit me. No, I'm kidding, of course. But you get my point. I wasn't scared of getting robbed. Not until my nerd guy said something about me having to be careful. I asked why I'd need to be careful and he told me no particular reason. It was just a delivery to a new address, so we weren't familiar with the buyer. I asked if he thought the guy might try and rob me and he said no. But he also then asked if I was armed during the deliveries. I said, "Hell no, dude. I don't need to be,
do I?" At which point he shrugged and said, "Maybe you should think about it." There was no way that I was risking gun charges just to deliver this dude's Pokemon cards, and the way he talked had me assuming that he was just exaggerating the risk to sound cool. It turns out he was actually kind of right. The buyer asked to meet me in the parking lot of a 7-Eleven, which was apparently just around the corner from his apartment. He didn't want to give his exact address because he had a collection worth hundreds of thousands. So,
he'd only meet me in the 7-Eleven parking lot, he said. Now, right away, I'm thinking, I don't like this. The meet was a public space, well lit, too. But that wouldn't matter to some crackhead who'd worked out that robbing card couriers could bag him a heck of a lot of money. And the amount of time that I was left waiting had me on edge, too, because most buyers were super excited to get their cards or games or merch or whatever, and never left you hanging for long. But I was due to meet this guy at
4:30. And by 5:10, it was almost dark and he still hadn't showed. I got even more on edge when some shirtless homeless dude started practicing his kung fu over by a dumpster because if he started practicing it on my car, then we were going to have problems. Not just for the obvious reasons either, but because it might mess up the delivery. I told myself just a few more minutes and then I was driving back to my nerd guy and chalking it up to a no-show. But then, just as the street lights flickered on, some dude
in a hoodie and a baseball cap started walking over to my car, very sketchy like. I'm looking at this dude thinking, "You do not look like my usual customer." But after he slides into my passenger seat and I make sure his money's good, I gave him his card and it was like I'd handed him a holy relic. His eyes lit up as he looked at it through the plastic wrapper. And I was silently mad at myself for assuming this guy was some scumbag when his money was good and it was actually kind of cool. And
just before he got out of my car, he pointed towards the homeless guy and says, "Is that dude with you?" But I just sort of scoffed and said no. but told him he was great entertainment while I waited. And then after thanking me for the delivery, the guy got out of my car and started walking back towards the 7-Eleven. I started my car, put her into drive, and then right when I did, the buyer yelled something at the homeless guy, did a few kung fu moves back at him, and then started walking away laughing to
himself. He was making fun of him, all right, but it wasn't malicious, more playful than anything else. But the homeless guy did not see it that way. And after giving the buyer a death stare for a few seconds, he starts rumaging in the dumpster like he's looking for something. I stopped to watch him from my driver's seat, kind of thinking, "Okay, why do I really not like the look of this?" And then that gut feeling explained itself when the homeless dude pulls out a machete out of the dumpster and started running full speed at the
buyer who had absolutely no idea what was coming. I honked my horn three times real fast trying to alert the buyer to what was coming for him. Then when he realized what was happening, he freaked out so hard that he fell right on his face trying to get a sprint going. I guess instinct kicked in for me because out of nowhere, I'm putting my foot down and just sending it towards this homeless dude. He sees the headlights and then he's almost like a deer. Freezes and then the next thing, wham! and he just sort of
disappears from view. Literally, the first thought that comes into my head is, "Holy I think I just killed a guy." And people are now coming out of the store and freaking out, thinking I just murdered this dude out of nowhere. I opened up the door and got out to see the damage. And the shirtless homeless dude is just spled on the concrete. There's a bunch of blood leaking out of a gash to his head. Some people are yelling for someone to call 911, while others are walking up to me saying, "What the hell did you
just do?" and thinking I tried to run the buyer down, too. Luckily, he jumps in right away and lets everyone know what happened and how this crazy shirtless dude had been hiding a goddamn machete in the dumpster. Probably just waiting for someone to mess with him. The cops showed up quick, then the paramedics, and when they took the homeless dude away, he was still out of it. He was detained in the parking lot until the cops reviewed the security camera footage in the 7-Eleven. And then once they saw me and the buyer were telling the
truth about what had happened, they said I was free to go. I ended up going into the 7-Eleven to buy a pack of smokes, which was me quitting quitting smoking for like the seventh time. And as I bought the pack, the guy behind the counter said I was a hero. He said it was him who showed the cops the footage. And if it wasn't for me, the buyer would have been screwed. That shirtless homeless guy had been hanging around the store for months. And given his history of threatening interactions, both he and his co-workers agreed
it was only a matter of time before he did something serious. That was kind of reassuring. But what wasn't reassuring was something one of the cops said to me before I was free to leave. He said I was probably going to get a call from a detective, in which case I should lawyer up before talking to anyone, especially if that guy dies. Well, lucky for me, the homeless dude didn't die. He had to have his head stitched up and he spent a couple of days in the hospital before being released. But after that, he disappeared
and there was no pressing charges. I still had to talk to the cops again just to get the story straight. But after that, they told me I was home free and that I wouldn't be hearing from them again. That was a huge relief because for a while I was convinced that this sick twist of fate was going to occur where my attempt to save a person's life had destroyed my own. Thankfully that didn't occur and nothing that wild ever happened again on any other delivery. But even today with a large homeless population around here, I
still find myself getting super on edge whenever I see one crashing out. I know they're not all bad and that life just beats some people down, but I think we can all agree that people with nothing left to lose can be very, very [Music] dangerous. A long time ago, back when I was still a broke high school dropout, I used to advertise handyman services on Craigslist. It was actually a pretty good money maker for a while. So much that it delayed me starting an actual business cuz I was making so much money. But over time,
the places I was hitting up got weirder and weirder until eventually I had to quit working Craigslist jobs altogether. People sometimes ask if there was one specific job, one specific straw which broke the mule's back. And I always tell them about this one particular encounter. One day, I get a call from a dude about putting up some shelves in his place. He's got the shelves. He's got a place he wants them, and he just doesn't have the tools or the skills to put them up. So, he gives me a call. We arranged for a time
for me to drive over. Then, I get there with my toolbox for what I figured would be a 30-minute job. But then, the second I turned on the street and saw which house I was working in, I started getting one of those weird sinking feelings. That place was a total mess. There's trash on the lawn. There's a rusted car with no wheels propped up in the driveway. And the windows look like they hadn't been cleaned in years. Like I said, I had the bad luck of being called out to a bunch of different houses like
that. And I was starting to get real goddamn sick of it, too. I'm not talking about folks too sick or old to take care of themselves. I understand that not everyone has the time or energy to keep their places looking like something off of an HOA leaflet. But when a place is so dirty that there's actual fleas hopping around the furniture, you really wanted to ask a person, "How the hell can you live like this man? What's wrong with you?" And this guy was that type. This guy, I'll just call him Jerry, said that he
lived with his aunt Janie and that we had to be quiet because she was sleeping. I told him, "Dude, maybe this isn't the best time for me to be hammering walls if your aunt is asleep." But he assured me it was fine. And since the job would be a quick one, she wouldn't mind the interruption. And I'm saying something like, "Whatever you say, boss." And then I follow him inside and out to a back room, which is where he wanted the shelves put up. But then right there on the couch next to where he wants
me to put the shelves up, is a pile of blankets with a very human looking shape underneath. The second I saw it, I whispered, "Dude, that's not your Aunt Janie, is it?" And then he nodded and said, "Yep." And I told him there's no way that I was hammering the wall right next to her without waking her up. And then, right as he's giving me some explanation about how it's fine and she won't mind, something hits me. I start thinking, who the hell's sleeping totally covered up like that? And I'm making my way across the
room towards the shelves when I suddenly realize Aunt Janie isn't asleep, is she? I turn to say something to Jerry. I can't quite remember what now, but I turn to see him sliding something heavy in front of the door. I asked what he's doing, and he tells me the hinge is loose, and he needs the car battery in front of it to stop it swinging open. He tries staying all calm and convincing, but I can smell bull crap immediately. The only reason he wanted to put that thing in the way was to keep me from
being able to get out of there fast. Or in other words, he wanted me trapped. To this day, how quickly and how strangely the situation escalated is something that's never been topped for me. In the space of maybe 30 seconds, I went from this poor lady's getting her nap interrupted to realizing she was most likely taking a permanent nap at the hands of the guy I'd just been swapping small talk with. One minute I was there to put up some shelves. The next I wasn't sure if I was getting out of there alive because right
after Jerry tells me that lie about the door not closing properly, he bends down and picks up this hefty looking metal pipe. I ask him, "What's that for?" Trying to stay as cool as possible. And he responds, "Oh, this thing. Nothing. Just picking it up so you don't trip over it." But he's holding it tight in his hand like a weapon. So, I knew he wasn't doing anything out of courtesy for me. I knew I had to think on my feet and find some excuse to get out of there that didn't provoke him into trying
to hit me with that pipe. But I also knew that there was a real good chance that the guy was going to get violent with me, in which case I had to arm myself. I had a gun at home at the time for home defense, but I didn't go carrying it around with me. Not always, anyway. So, at first I say, "Hm, well, let me see which tools I need for this." And the first thing I pull out of my bag is my claw hammer. I then take a look at the shelves while playing extremely
dumb. And then I ask him something along the lines of, "I think this is going to wake up your aunt Janie and make a real mad dude. I'm a heavy sleeper myself, but I got to tell you that I'd be waking up with someone hammering on a wall right next to my head." And I couldn't believe what he did next. I saw him start relaxing again once I started playing dumb. It was obvious that whoever was under the blanket wasn't just sleeping, but since my best chance of avoiding conflict was playing along, that's what I
did. I tell him about his aunt waking up and how it's not a good idea if she's sick or needs rest or whatever. And then this guy walks over to the couch saying, "Nah, it's all right." And then lifts up the blanket and starts yelling, "A Janie, wake up." She's got a washcloth or something covering her face, but just her face, like a death mask. It might sound kind of weird, but I think that was the creepiest thing about this entire exchange. Seeing this poor old lady with just her face covered after he'd pulled back
the blanket. Remembering him pick up that metal pipe kind of just makes me mad to think about these days. But the image of that piece of cloth or whatever it was covering up her face like he'd sort of I don't know taken her face away from her. It creeps me out. Something awful. Anyway, I still got no chance but to keep playing along, so that's what I keep doing. I remember saying, "Damn, she is a heavy sleeper, huh?" And then he says, "I told you, man. She's sick. She's not going to wake up. It's cool."
He had not mentioned anything about her being sick. And that was literally the first time. But still, I just play along with my hammer and my hand, and then I go back to looking through my toll box and trying to think of another excuse. That was probably the most at risk I felt because I'm watching Jerry out of the corner of my eye, thinking if he rushes me right now, I'm screwed cuz I'm kneeling down with my back to him. I guess that kind of hurried my thought process along because the next thing I remember
saying, "Ah, damn it. I think I brought the wrong brackets." He gave me a confused look as I stand up again and turned to him, so I knew that I was in the clear in terms of being able to bluff him, which was a huge relief, but I still wasn't out of the woods just yet. He says, "Huh, brackets?" And so I start explaining I need this special little wooden bracket if I was going to drill into the plaster. It was total nonsense. I could have used whatever the hell kind of bracket I had with
me, but Jerry didn't know that, so that's what I went with. I told him all I needed to do was head out to my trunk to get them and even volunteered to leave my toolbox there because I wasn't going anywhere and I'd be right back once I grabbed them from my trunk. It hurt knowing that I was about to lose them. That was a couple of hundred bucks in tools at least, but I also knew that that was sort of my ace in the hole when it came to getting out that door because it completely
fooled Jerry into thinking that I was going to be right back. He steps out of the way of the door, moves the car battery so I can actually open it. And then I walk back out to the truck. I don't suspect a thing, and I'mma be right back. But then the second I get to my truck, I'm in the driver's seat and gunning the engine like my life depended on it. A few minutes later, I'm pulling into the parking lot of a strip mall and calling 911. I told the dispatcher everything and she told me
if there really was a dead body involved, I was probably going to get a call back from the cops sometime. And she was right. Just like I suspected, Aunt Janie was dead, and it meant I needed to be fingerprinted so the cops could distinguish mine from anyone else's. I figured right then that it must have been murder and that Jerry was some psycho who murdered that lady before taking up residence in her home. But that's not actually what happened. Jerry had learning difficulties, pretty serious ones, too. And it was actually his aunt lying there dead
on the couch. I don't know what happened to his mom and dad, but his aunt had been taking care of him all of his life. And then when she died, he just kind of lost it, refused to accept it, and only armed himself with that pipe cuz he thought I was going to separate him from his beloved aunt Janie. I mean, that's exactly what I was going to do. So, I suppose I really was in danger once I was in that room with his dead aunt. But after the cops told me about his situation and
how I had grounds to press charges for wrongful detainment, I just declined. I felt bad for the guy. He didn't understand that his aunt was gone. Or if he did, he sure as hell wasn't ready to let her go. Now, don't get it twisted. If he'd have come at me with that pipe, I'd have taken his goddamn head off. But finding out that he wasn't some monster, just a confused, heartbroken hermit with the mind of a child, that totally changed how I looked at it. It made me realize how much danger I was putting myself
in by visiting random homes like that. When I step inside, I become part of their world and part of their stories. And some people's stories don't have happy endings. [Music] Almost 25 years ago now, when I first moved to Appalene, I had a job prospect completely fall through on me. I had rent to pay, groceries, and gas to buy. And since I only had a couple of hundred bucks in savings to tide me over, I was very stressed about it. But as luck would have it, I'd somehow managed to find myself an awesome roommate to
live with, and he turned out to be a huge help. Daryl was a big computer nerd at the time when not everyone was hooked up to the internet. So, when I told him all about my money troubles, he said that he'd try his best to find me some respectable employment. I didn't think there was much that he could do. I mean, this was the early 2000s, so job websites were practically non-existent back then. But to my surprise, and within just a few short hours of his promise, Daryl delivered. When he told me he'd found something
suitable, I was halfway to telling him I'm not standing outside a bank dressed as a dollar bill. But he just laughed and pointed at his computer screen before telling me to read through the post. Basically, a guy on Craigslist was offering $100 a day to anyone who'd help him clear out the garage of an old house he just purchased. And they didn't require anything but a can do attitude and a willingness to work hard. At the time, it seemed like great money for a simple job, so I rushed to contact the guy before someone else
did. It turns out the guy's name was Rick, and he made his money flipping old houses around Abalene. He seemed like an okay dude, too. So once he was happy that I was the right guy for the job, we arranged a date and time for me to drive over to the house. I got there just before 8:00 a.m. Then Rick and I had ourselves some coffee before he showed me the garage. It was only then that it made sense why he was offering a h 100 bucks a day. To say the place was a mess
would be the understatement of the century. The trash was literally floor to ceiling in the back corners. Like these miniature mountains of old toys, furniture, and appliances that were covered in dust and cobwebs. The whole floor was covered in it, too. And we had to haul out a ton of old crap just to be able to walk our way into the garage. Everything that was straight up trash went into a dumpster Rick had rented, whereas anything we figured that we might be able to renovate got lined up in the driveway. And then after a couple
of hours, we managed to uncover some cabinets that lined one of the walls. Rick starts opening them up to see what's in there. And then he sort of rummages around for a minute before saying, "Well, what do we have here?" And he pulled out a wooden box about half the size of a shoe box. And even though it was covered in dust and dirt, I could see how fancy it was. Rick sets it down and opened it up. And inside is what looked like some kind of antique six shooter with similarly fancy engravings on it.
Rick started saying how it might be silverplated, but even if not, it still had to be worth a few thousand bucks at auction. And by looking at it, I had to agree. That thing looked like it should have been in a museum or something. And I had no doubt in my mind that a collector would pay top dollar for it, maybe even more if its original owner had been someone famous or historical. I congratulated him on his find and then got back to work hauling stuff out of the garage. Now, we continued on working for
the next couple of hours. Then, just after 1:00 p.m., Rick asked if I was hungry. I was so starved I could have eaten my own fist. When I agreed it was time for a lunch break, Rick gave me 50 bucks and said if I drove to his favorite barbecue place, lunch was on him and I could keep the change. And let me tell you, barbecue always tastes better when it's free. There's a science to it. It has to be. And so I took us 50 bucks, bought a bunch of barbecue, and then drove back to
the house with two bags full of brisket, lynx, pickles, and potato salad. I parked my car, then started walking up the driveway. And here's where you kind of need to know something about the setup. There was a crap ton of junk piled up against the garage door, and we weren't even halfway through clearing out all that crap yet. So, I had to walk all the way around this big old garage to the back door to get inside. And so, there I go hauling these two big bags of barbecue. Then, when I got to the doorway,
there's Rick with his back to me. I tell him, "Hey, man. Back with lunch, but he doesn't turn around. Not right away." And I don't know exactly what it was about him, but I remember getting this bad feeling right there when he didn't respond to me. We've been working all morning and well into the afternoon, too. And if he felt anything like I did, then the fact that he didn't turn around and jump at the bag of food was just weird. I gave it maybe 3 or 4 seconds and then called out to him again,
saying, "Yo, Rick, I'm back. What's the hold up? Let's eat." And he kind of jerked his head to the side like he'd only just heard me and then slowly started to turn around. But as he did, I noticed the open box on a dusty counter nearby, the one that held that six shooter. Only now the box was empty, and the bullets were gone. Seconds later, I see the gun in his hand, but I see this little trickle of blood coming out of his nose, too. And one of his eyes was very bloodshot. And I'm not
talking like smoking reefer bloodshot, either. I'm talking smashed in the face with a baseball bat kind of bloodshot. Like so bloodshot it almost looked black. I figured he was going through some kind of medical emergency and I was about to ask if he needed me to call 911. But then the next thing he kind of halfway raises that sick shooter to point it at me, but then stops himself. I can see him struggling like he's fighting the urge or something. So without another thought, I just dropped the bags, turned, and ran like hell. I bolted
it all the way out to my car, hearing two loud gunshots and then this almighty crash along the way. I remember thinking that he must have fell into a pile of junk to make that kind of crash. I was just about to book it, too, cuz I didn't want to be there if Rick got up and came out shooting again. But then I realized that if I did just up and leave without warning anyone, it would be on me if someone ended up getting shot. I had my own gun in my glove compartment, so I
grabbed it, kept my eyes trained on the garage in the pathway leading from it, and then started whistling double loud till someone appeared asking what the hell was going on. I told them to call the cops and EMS because someone had gone crazy and they had a gun. They rushed back inside and then not long after I heard sirens getting louder before the cop car skidded around the corner. I put my gun away before they got out and then once they did I directed the two officers toward the garage where Rick still was. They appeared
around the side and then I hear them yelling things like police come out with your hands up. I didn't hear any shots which gave me hope. Then one of the cops came out saying Rick needed an ambulance, and I was relieved to hear that he wasn't outright dead. But I was still very worried about him for obvious reasons. He looked in a bad way when I saw him. Nose all bloody with his eyes all messed up, so he was obviously hurting in some way. But then the way he'd almost had to fight himself to keep
from shooting me, that made me think something had gone wrong in his brain. And somehow, even though I almost just took a bullet from an antique pistol, the idea of poor old Rick losing his mind in some way was even scarier to me than the idea of getting shot. And once EMS had arrived and the cops had secured that gun, one of them came over to talk to me about what had happened. I told him everything from start to finish. How Rick had been a perfectly nice dude right up until he hadn't, and how whatever
happened to him seemed to happen right as I got back. I knew that because the blood coming out of his nose hadn't even started dripping off his chin yet. But aside from that, I didn't know a thing about what happened to Rick or why he started acting the way he did. I saw the EMS guys wheeling Rick to an ambulance. He didn't look conscious and he had one of those oxygen mask things on. I kept asking EMTs if he was going to be okay, but they said they didn't know. After I got into my car
and drove home, that was pretty much the last I heard of it for about a month. And then out of the blue, Rick gives me a call. He said he was sorry for frightening me and wanted to stop by my place to give me the hundred bucks he owed me for the day's work, even though I only did half. I told him that wasn't necessary and that I was just glad to hear that it was okay. But he insisted on stopping over to thank me in person because if it wasn't for me, he might not
be alive. I told him if that was the case, he was free to stop by whenever he liked. And when he did, he had more than just a hundred bucks for me. When he stopped by, Rick told me what the doctor said. He told them he started feeling funny right around the time he picked up the gun. He'd been bored waiting for me to come back with lunch and decided to get out that sick shooter again. But that's where things started getting a little hazy. When he saw me in the doorway, he got scared because
he didn't recognize who I was. And then once he did, he was already halfway to pointing the gun at me. And like I suspected, it was like he had to battle himself not to do it. Like his brain and body were arguing back and forth with each other. Last thing he said he remembered was seeing me run off. After that, he didn't remember nothing till he woke up in the ambulance on the way to the hospital. I sat there with my jaw on the floor. And even now, I can't really imagine how that must have
felt for him. losing control of your own body, and that's scarier than anything from any horror movie, at least anything I've ever seen. Anyway, when he was done telling me about the medical side of things, Rick turned and reached into his jacket that he had slung over my kitchen chair. He then pulled out an envelope that contained way, way more than just a hundred bucks. When I realized how much money was in there, easily over two grand, he started telling me about putting that gun he found up for auction. He didn't tell me how much
that thing actually sold for. He said some collector stepped in before he even hit the podium and offered almost double the buyout price just to secure it as theirs. And I remember laughing and saying, "I knew it. I knew that thing looked expensive." And then as much as I wanted to turn down his offer of the money, Lord knows I needed it. Rick then sends something about how if it wasn't for me, he might not be alive to put the gun up for auction in the first place. And he figured the least he could do
was share some of his unexpected earnings with the man who saved his life. And I don't think I'd go that far personally. The doctors and nurses and paramedics saved Rick's life. Whereas I was just about ready to shoot him if he appeared from that garage pointing that pistol. So I don't think I can claim too much credit. But I guess I did help get the ambulance there in a roundabout way by calling the cops. So, I understood where he was coming from. After that, we went our separate ways and he'd been a memory ever since.
I still think about him from time to time, though, wondering how he's doing and if that medical thing ever flared up again. But I also think about how it was a hell of a time for it to kick in for the first time, right when I was coming back with lunch and he was holding that gun. Cuz maybe on another day, the cops show up hours, maybe even days later, and we're both lying there dead as doornails. All because the wrong thing happened in the wrong place at the wrong [Music] time. In my senior year
of high school, my dad said that if I got myself a job to pay for gas money, he'd give me the keys to his old Dodge. Then when a friend of mine said that she'd found babysitting jobs on Craigslist, I started looking there to see if I could find anything nearby. But while I was looking, I found a kind of sitting job that was somehow both very familiar and very different to babysitting. Dogsitting. And the first time I saw an ad, I sort of thought, "No way. This is actually an option." I was excited to
see an ad like that. Not because it meant taking care of a dog, and I am very much a dog person, but because a lot of the babysitter wanted posts said applicants needed experience. I had zero experience babysitting, but my family had a dog, so I felt confident saying that I had the wherewithal to take care of a pooch while its owner was away. I called the person who posted the ad and ended up sitting for this boxer dog named Charlie for a few hours, and then the rest is history. I was hooked. These days,
I run a dog grooming and walking service in upstate New York. I won't try to milk this for free advertising, I promise. And dogs are my whole entire universe right now. But it hasn't always been smooth sailing. And back during my dogsitting days, I had a few close calls that had me rethinking my entire business strategy. When I told my dad I could find dogsitting jobs online, he seemed super skeptical about it. And I guess he had to be right. This was back before absolutely everything was done online. So, the idea of his teenage daughter
heading over to some total stranger's house seemed crazy to him. But once I assured him I wouldn't travel too far and wouldn't come home too late at night and wouldn't sit for anyone I hadn't talked with extensively on the phone first, he relented. I didn't just say all that to plate him either. And it might sound harsh, but I didn't respond to ads posted from rougher parts of the city or the wider county. I had my brand new truck to worry about and I had to drive home late from these places, too. So, I was
very discerning when it came to the jobs I took. But I was even more the fool, I guess, because that's what had me responding to this one ad without any reservations at all. The address was a real nice part of town with big front lawns, three-story homes with things like fountains or statues in the driveway. That was another nice part about dogsitting, too. some of the houses you got to visit and make believe like it was yours. So, the second I saw that address, I was down. First off, this ad was offering $80 for just
4 hours from 7:00 p.m. until 11 p.m. And with most other dogsitting jobs paying about 30 to 40 bucks for the same sort of hours, I should have seen that as the red flag that it was, I guess. But I also figured, hey, these rich people, of course, they're going to pay more than the average. So, being greedy, I read on and instantly I understood why they were offering so much cash. They had a very boisterous, borderline hyperactive 2-year-old named Rufus, who was a Great Dane. And for those that don't know, and I guess the
clue is kind of in the name, but Great Danes are well, great. They're big dogs. I mean really big dogs. The kind of dogs you see at a distance and think, "What am I even looking at here? Is that a small horse or am I tripping?" And at the dog groomers, young great Danes are the only dog we still find genuinely intimidating because they can be very, very boisterous and they do not know their own strength very well either. And even back then, I knew that they'd be a lot to handle. But with my heart
set on playing some makebelieve in that big old house and maybe getting to make friends with a dog that outweighs me by about 50 lb, I thought to myself, why not? And gave them a call. And the lady I spoke to was super nice. And we talked all about Roffus and what a handful he could be. She said that in her opinion, the best course of action would be for her to lock Roffus in the home's kitchen with a bunch of food and water. I'm 5' and I've been that tall since I was 17. So,
even back then, I had been in serious trouble if old Rufus took a disliking to me. So, after being secured in the kitchen, it was my job to just sit in the TV room and listen to make sure Roffus wasn't freaking out too hard that his mommy and daddy were away. I asked if I could meet him first, at least from the other side of the toddler gate that they installed in the kitchen. Rufus would be able to smell me in the other room, and unless he knew I was cool, he would almost certainly freak
out if he thought a stranger was in the house. The lady said that was fine. She just didn't want him up close just in case he knocked me down and I wanted to sue. I laughed and said I'd never do that. And she laughed too, but still said, "You never know." And once we were done, I thanked the lady for the opportunity and said that I couldn't wait to meet her in person. She thanked me in return and then said that she'd see me in a couple of days. And I was genuinely excited. It was
a special job with a special dog and a really special house, too. But if I'd have had any inkling of what I almost walked into, there's no way I'd have showed up that night. I drove over in my dad's old Dodge, and the house was just as incredible as I expected it to be. The lady was just as nice, too. And while her husband was getting ready upstairs for their date night, she walked me into the kitchen to go over some ground rules. I didn't want to be rude and interrupt, but literally the second she
walked into the kitchen, I was thinking, "Where's Roffus?" The lady went over all the house rules, which was pretty much all the standard stuff. No boys, no trying to fill the hot tub, and no ordering pay-per-views on the TV. But then when she was done, I asked, "So, uh, where's Roffus?" And without missing a beat, she says, "Roffus is in the basement." to which I respond, "Okay, well, can I meet him?" But her face kind of just drops a little before saying back, "Uh, that won't be happening, I'm afraid. Sorry." There was a pause before
I respond, "Uh, that wasn't part of the agreement. I'd much prefer if you could introduce us a little so he doesn't mind me being here while all of you head out." And that's when the lady says, "Me and my husband talked about that and we decided it wasn't a very good idea. I'd done enough dogsitting jobs at that point to know that actually the reverse isn't a good idea and if they really wanted me to be safe and Rufus to be chill, she should introduce me." So, he got an idea of my scent and that
I was a friend. I made my point firmly but politely enough to think that the woman might have actually changed her mind. But when I was done, she looked at me with this total stone cold look in her eyes and told me no. I didn't even really know what to say at that point. I'd never had anyone just sort of turn on me like that before. Sure, it was just a minor change to our arrangement, but what bothered me so much more was the way this woman's attitude just seemed to totally switch. She'd been the
nicest lady ever up until then. And then when I insisted on meeting Roffus, she'd started acting like I was asking to poop in their washing machine. This super firm no. Like I was completely in the wrong for even asking. The only thing I could think to ask was, "Why do you guys keep Rufus in the basement? Are you sure he's going to be okay down there?" She didn't lose her temper with me. Not entirely, but she did march over to the basement door to gesture to it like there was nothing wrong. And she says, "There's
the basement. Rufus is downstairs. All you have to do is keep your ears peeled for any signs of distress and call us if there are any. What's so hard to understand?" I remember looking at the basement door and feeling super uneasy that all I could hear was silence. 90% of the time when a dog is locked away like that and they know a stranger is in the house, they start barking and scratching. And even if they're a super well- behaved dog, they might not bark, but they're sure as hell coming to the door to take
a sniff of whoever's on the other side. So, the fact that there was total silence coming from the other side had me questioning if there was even a dog down there to begin with. I think by then my suspicion meter was dipping into the red zone. Alarm bells were blaring in my head, and it was like a whole Chinese Olympic opening ceremony of red flags waving in front of me. I knew I wanted to leave right then and there. If they were willing to switch up the agreement at the last minute, there was also a
chance they'd choose not to pay me the agreed amount of money, too. And so, my foot is already halfway out the door. And I'm thinking, if I do end up sitting for this family, it's probably going to be a one-time only thing. And then without even me really thinking about it, I just blurted out, "Is there even a dog down there?" I wasn't even fully invested in the idea that there wasn't a dog down there. In fact, it was more like I was concerned about some kind of animal cruelty situation. I pictured some old hound
lying on a doggy bed down there, tired and neglected. And maybe that's why they didn't want me to see him. So, when I accused her of lying to me, it was actually more of a bluff call than anything else. I figured the lady would get super offended that my question might just be the last straw and that she'd end up either showing me Roffus or asking me to leave. She didn't either. Instead, her tone turned super sweet again and said something like, "Of course there's a dog down there, sweetie. Here, listen." Then she bangs her
fist on the basement door and yells, "Roffus, you all right down there?" And then I heard oof oof oof coming from the basement. But instead of reassuring and relieving me, I felt this icy cold feeling run down my spine. Because if there's one thing I am 100% sure of from that encounter, it's that whatever made that wolf sound was not a dog. It was human. I knew it was a person making that sound. The lady knew it was a person and she knew that I knew it was a person down there, too. I could tell
just from the look on her face, the way she went from all sweet to kind of nervous. I don't know if those pretend barks worked on other people, but they sure as hell didn't work on me because after a few seconds of awkward eye contact, I turned around, walked out of that house, and made a beline for my car. I guess the lady figured that she could maybe shame me into coming back because she started yelling all this mean stuff as I sped away walking to my car. And then the last thing I heard before
I zoomed off down the street was her offering to double the money that I was being paid. But honestly, she could have tripled it, quadrupled it even, and I'd still have wanted out of there faster than you can say that ain't no dog. When I got home, Dad obviously wanted to know why I was home early. And then when I told him, he just about exploded and ran to the cops. His complaint boiled down to, "These slippery sons of tried to trick my little girl into being alone in a house with some weirdo down in
the basement." And so the cops drove over to that big old house in that nice part of town to figure out what the hell was going on. They called back the next day saying they'd inspected the basement and that nothing was going on. There was no dog bed down there, no people either, just a regular old basement full of junk and old boxes. They did, however, make it clear that if I hadn't felt safe there, I'd done the right thing and walking away. Dad told me that stuff like that is why he'd been so nervous
about the idea of me staying in people's houses. He said most folks are good, kind-hearted people who want quiet, peaceful lives, but it only takes one single solitary individual to ruin a good thing. and spoil it for everybody else. He also said there's sometimes a difference between what people present themselves as and who they really are. And that's exactly how they lure girls like me into their homes on the pretext of something innocent. I don't know exactly what that family's deal was, if that person was down there of their own free will, or if something
much, much darker was going on. All I know is that it made me much more careful when it came to the kind of jobs I took before eventually making me give it up altogether. Most homes are filled with good people. But find that one in a thousand or a million or whatever it might be and you don't get out alive. If you even get out at all. It's late at night. You've had a long day at work. You're exhausted. You finally turn out all the lights and go to bed. But of course, you get a
notification on your phone. You have to check it, right? You're not sleeping yet, so you take a quick look. And that's when you see that it's about that story that you've been following all week. The international manhunt that's basically the next smash hit true crime dock series in the making in real time. And updates are coming in rapid fire. You sit bolt upright, take a deep breath, and begin scrolling. For the next two hours, you devour every delicious detail about the grizzly crime, the search for a fugitive, and the mindless commentary that goes along with
it. Our collective obsession with true crime stories has, of course, exploded in the last several years. And movies, books, podcasts, social media, daily news stories, they all feed this obsession constantly. It's pretty easy to think that this is a relatively new thing, but of course it's not. And while it may be difficult to pinpoint a single moment in history when this cultural phenomenon began, there is one story which may be the very reason why you're up late at night doomscrolling. One story about a brutal murder, the heartpounding pursuit of the killer, and a revolutionary new
technology which sparked a cultural obsession that we still can't get enough of. History always has a twist. A single unexpected and often forgotten moment that changes everything that comes after it. In this series, each week you'll hear a riveting story about a twist that you've probably never heard of. But it's these stories that have shaped the very world we now live in. On today's episode, how murder went viral. This is a twist of history. [Music] It's July 9th, 1910 in London, England. A 16-year-old boy flies down four flights of stairs of a concrete office building
and steps out onto Burrow High Street on the south bank of the River Temps. The noise hits him immediately. people rushing down the sidewalk, the road filled with a mix of horsedrawn buggies and rattling automobiles. The street is so crowded it overwhelms the boy. He quickly pulls his hat down further to partially cover his face and starts weaving his way through the foot traffic. He darts his eyes back and forth, convinced that someone is going to recognize him. He can feel his heartbeat all the way up in his ears. He keeps rushing and scanning the
street, but nobody pays any attention to him. So, the boy finally relaxes a little. He slows down to a normal walk and makes his way to the entrance of a nearby London Underground station. A few minutes later, the boy sees his father coming towards him, holding a single small suitcase. The boy greets his father and they run down the steps together in the underground just in time to catch the next train. The boy watches the train doors close and the mass of passengers exiting. He looks around to make sure that he still hasn't been recognized
by anyone and follows his father on board. As the train car continues to fill up, the boy and his dad lower their heads, avoiding eye contact with their fellow passengers. And finally, the train starts to roll down the underground tracks and the boy and his father exhale. Their escape from England has begun. To hear the rest of this story, go follow A twist of history now. Episodes one and two are live right now, wherever you get your podcasts. And don't forget to leave a rating. Thank you so much.
