Justice for Noah!
His family deserves justice!
Noah Presgrove, 19
Noah was found dead on September 4, 2023. He was found by either a truck driver or a state trooper (this hasn't been 100% confirmed because I've read different information in different articles) on the side of the highway.
He was found 1 mile away from the party he was at the night before. The party was a birthday party and lasted approximately 3-4 days.
Partygoers said that Noah left the party, on foot, angry. There are several videos and pictures from the party. Some are highly suspicious. Some videos and pictures show girls writing on Noah's butt and some show some boy and Noah hitting each other (playfully). One video even shows a teen holding a shotgun. What is clear though, is that the party was littered with violence, sketchy pranks and dares mixed with alcohol and possibly drugs.
We are waiting for the autopsy report to be released. It was stated in an article that :"we will be shocked to find out what wasn't in his system". The autopsy in this case is big for a few reasons but one reason is because the ME didn't do the autopsy on Noah until 24 hours after his body was removed from the highway.
Noah was found laying on the highway in the fetal position. He was naked. The only thing he was wearing was shoes (no confirmation on if he was wearing socks). The shoes: one shoe was his, one shoe wasn't. There was a pair of shorts (not Noah's) that were found near the body. His teeth had been knocked out and several of them were found scattered near the body. The only other thing found near the body (that we know of) was a very small blood stain. LE later stated that Noah's skull was bashed and his body was covered with injuries.
Also: The Sharpie writing that was scene being written on Noah's body and chest was gone. Someone cleaned him and scrubbed the sharpie off his body.

Just sharing my 2 nights with ayahuasca, and some various thoughts.
This was out in Tucson, Arizona, in the desert during the late summer, where the organizers have a yurt (a circular walled building with windows and a sliding glass door, and dome ceiling). People from all walks of life, across the United States, from even as far as Dubai, came in to attend. Everyone was very much kind, approachable, and down-to-Earth.
Ceremony started at midnight. I took an initial drink, and waited for ayahuasca to take effect. Within 30 minutes, one of the first people to take a drink could be heard vomitting. Which set off a chain of us to begin vomitting in tandem. Luckily I kept dinner light, so it was mostly water and liquids going into the bucket. Full of nausea, I spent most of the time in a fetal position on a yoga mat with blankets. And then it started. I started to see patterns and shapes, in a gradient of shifting colors of purple, green, red, and indigo, overlapping everything I could see in real-time. Like it was lines of code like Neo seeing the Matrix.
I heard a telepathic voice, "One drink is enough." When I closed my eyes, I had a vision of brain. And I could feel a drilling sensation, with vibrating sounds of a power drill. Drilling into my brain. A similar sensation to like when a dentist is drilling your teeth, but it was vibrating my brain. But I had a "knowing" that the drilling was a kind of vibrational frequency, something non-physical. I had a sense that there were some unseen entities around. A voice said, "Don't worry, we're just upgrading you." I would open my eyes, and I could go back to seeing the moving colored lines of code, and everyone else around me were crying, gasping... one girl was even moaning from having orgasms from her experience.
Before the sun rose, the voice told me, "You know you don't have to be here right? You didn't have to come." It was a long night, and really looked forward to sleeping in during the day, before coming back and having to do it all over. We shared experiences of the night, and the man next to me was someone very experienced with ayahuasca. He said, "you know how ayahuasca said you didn't have to be here? It's like she is inviting you. You don't hve to be here, but you chose to come." The simple answer is, I came out of curiousity. I wanted to see if there was something that I could see, or be shown.
2nd night, again we start ceremony at midnight. This 2nd time with ayahuasca, I noticably felt less nausea, and more "drunk." Like I had to be more conscious, more deliberate with my movements. No physical vomitting this time, but dry heaving, as if I was expelling energetic blockages. I felt my senses were more heightened, the smoke and scent of palo santo being burned, was especially strong and dizzying. I could here ayahuasca's voice again, "It's okay child, you don't need to drink anymore. Go outside."
I make my way outside, making sure not to stumble too much pass everyone else going through their experience. I step out and have a seat on one of the many chairs they have laid out. In the distance is a lightning storm amidst the desert night, flashing away as lightning strikes. I let out a few more dry heaves, a few more deep gasps of energetic blockages.
And so this telepathic conversation ensues. The shifting colors and patterns of circles, triangles, platonic solids continue as I keep my eyes open. I hear a kind of communicative ringing and gurgling insect-like sounds as a constant, as I look at the cloudy night sky. "You didn't have to come here child, but you came. You came because you wanted to know the truth. But you already know the truth. What you are here for is confirmation." I think my responses to her in my mind.
"Yes child, you are right, what you are seeing is the structure of the astral plane, the place to access the Akashic records. Your intuition is right: the reason ayahuasca ceremony is held at this time is because this is the optimum time for the 魂/Hún (the ethereal soul) to connect to what you refer as the Astral/Soul Plane."
"And yes, plants and insects communicate telepathically to each other on this plane. All the plants are connected, and well aware of what is going on with one side of the planet to the other side. You don't need to feel guilty cutting us, harvesting us, moving, and so forth, child. This is our contract with the Creator. We plants are here to help facilitate life and experience on this planet."
This profound interaction with ayahuasca had me laughing and smiling. It was a lot to take in. As I was sitting, I could the other people at ceremony going for a walk outside, or vomitting in the nearby bushes. While laughing in the chair, I could see a tall, willowy slender figure, with long wavy hair, walk out of the yurt and walk directly her way towards me. "Did you call for me?" (This was one of the facilitators on site.) I was still in the middle of laughter, as I shook my head, "No, I'm good, thank you though," I replied. "I love your joy and laughter. It's a beautiful gift," she said with a smile.
"Yes child, we love your energy. Your laughter and joy, we will share with with all the plants, as we are all connected. It is a lovely energy."
"You already know this child. You are here to experience life. The nature of God is love, and joy, and to expand experience. You asked how the world will be in the future, yet you already know that everything will play out the way it will. You are one with God, you are one with all. All of you are a piece of God, here to expand possibility and experience. If God is perfect, that means there are no mistakes. Everything is the way it is suppose to be. You know you are here to understand how you create your experience."
As I sat, the lightning subsided. The thicker clouds could be seen moving past across the night sky. I don't know if you could say that the Creator was looking down upon us, only that I could feel our oneness and interconnectedness to everything; there was a serenity and bliss in being present with that sensation. I felt a more inner knowing about the vibrations and feelings, of the rocks, the trees, and so forth.
The conversation continued:
"What you think about UFO's are correct child. Some are alien, some are man-made. And you know this too, their movements do not make sense to people who are only aware of 3-dimensional physical experience. They function on 4-dimensional and 5-dimensional physics and logic. And even though we say 'dimensions' or 'planes' child, you know that it is all a mattery of energy and frequencies."
"You already know this child. Anthony Bourdain didn't commit suicide. You know he was killed off, child. You know that he was not the type of man to leave his daughter behind to suffer from his abscence. And you know why he was killed."
In the distance, a pack of coyotes were howling in the night. I could still see the patterns and their evershifting colors, the insect-like mite-ish sounds would continue until daybreak.
There were other things within that telepathic exchange with ayahuasca, but this is what I can recall offhand. Half the people that were in the yurt were beginning to go for walks outside, where we would share our experiences.
One man had served in Afghanistan. He was a drug addict and alcoholic for years. This was his 15th time doing ayahuasca, and it helped him get sober and clean.
His brother also attended, is a musician. He shared that he vomitted on the ground outside. And when he looked, he could see alien cybernetic worms that sprung up from the vomit. He thanked them for going on their way. Later that morning, a bee peacefully landed on his index finger, and lingered as if to greet us.
An older, burly man that was in the yoga mat next to me, he kept getting visions of turtles. He had no idea what it means.
One young girl wept a lot. She had lots of grief to process, visions of her inner child needing support. Visions of her mom going through a hard time. But ayahuasca showed herself and wrapped her in love.
One young man did ayahuasca for three nights straight and... nothing. No messages, no visions. But he did not follow the directions or guidelines. He ate whatever he wanted. Ayahuasca told me to let him know, the time will come. He will see what he needs to see at a later time, just be present and patient.
Final notes: It's my understanding that ayahuasca is a very personal, individual experience. The mother spirit plant meets you to where you are at in life. Part of meeting her and getting the most is to do the inner work on your self.
If everything is energy/qi/mana/ki/prana - it is a frequency. Our senses tap into that frequency. Our physical organs make sense of reflected light waves (sight), sound waves (hearing), and taste/smell/touch reacting to dense matter (where matter is made up of atoms, which are made up of electrons/protons/neutrons, which are made up of leptons/bosons/quarks. Moving, vibrating, spinning. Depending on what we're born with or how we have developed or cultured ourselves, our senses tap into and attract certain frequencies. Radio waves are all around us, but we don't see them. But we can use a radio to tap into a specific frequency or radio station like Power 106 FM or 92.3 the Beat.
Foods have different frequencies, as do music, as do habitual thoughts. My teachers taught me that mammals have denser frequencies, since they can feel heavy emotions like fear and grief. Pigs are highly intelligent, so maybe that is why there are religions that abstain from eating pork. That energetic fear or negative emotion will affect your frequency if you consume it.
Hence the dieta, or dietary guidelines. The more pescatarian, to vegetarian, to vegan, to maybe even water fasting or attaining breatharianism, the more finer quality your energy field and frequency to tap into your higher faculties, your higher senses, your higher self, your guides.
One last note - I think for those of you that read this far, and considering ayahuasca, the one thing I will say besides surrounding yourself with the cleanest possible foods, people, music, and experiences, it is to practice inner work and ground. Balance your chakras. Specifically your root and sacral chakras. Practice earthing. Go to a clean place in nature or wilderness. Balance and reinforce muladhara/root and svadhisthana/sacral chakras. Be grounded, be balanced, be present. You'll be able to understand your visions, or visitors more from a place of love and understanding, instead of being mentally scattered in fear.
Just a thought. I hope that was helpful and interesting to anybody considering ayahuasca as part of your life's journey, and good luck!

The ornamental hammer [86]-[112]
The state further referred to an ornamental hammer, a present from the Lotz family given to the accused for Christmas 2004. This was found in the back of his bakkie. After opening the gift, the defendant placed it under the seat and left it there until it was confiscated on April 15, 2005. When the private detective hired by his parents asked him about a hammer, he pointed out that it was in his car. Previously in Inge's apartment on March 18th, a claw hammer was found that was significantly larger. During the autopsy, suspicion was expressed that the murder weapons could have been a hammer and a sharp object. => Why did he refer to this hammer at all, if a hammer had been already been found?
The forensic examination focused on detecting traces of blood. To determine the origin of the apparently discovered blood, a DNA analysis of a “presumably watery blood solution” was carried out (“Her qualifications, which are extremely impressive, include expertise in the field of molecular microbiology). She found „the small amount of genetic material isolated from the hammer indicates male genetic material". However, this material could neither be assigned to the defendant nor anyone else. "Of course, the genetic material, as I understand it, does not necessarily mean that it had to be blood. It could even be attributed to skin tissue or body fluids, such as sweat secretion.” => If it was a bloody-aqueous solution, then it contained erythrocytes which are clearly microscopically detectable and DNA could be determined. Since Erys don't have a cell nucleus, it was a little more difficult, but still possible back then. It is therefore incomprehensible to me that it was switched to the idea that it could have been sweat, tissue or body fluids. Of course, there can be traces of blood on a hammer, but not if it was just under the seat. In addition, it is unclear what the statement “does not come from the defendant or any other person” is supposed to mean. Who was „any other person“? It was at least human male DNA, so I would expect that the private investigator, Mr. Lotz and Marius should have been tested.
The state wanted to prove that this ornamental hammer was responsible for the blunt trauma, both the blow and the bottle opener side. Based on the stab wounds, a sharp object was also involved. It could have been a knife about 10 cm long and about 2 cm thick. "For present purposes, however, I decide only on the possibility that the hammer could have been used as a murder weapon." => In my opinion, this decision is arbitrary, since the hammer might only have caused unconsciousness and the subsequent stab wounds caused death. I would also like to point out that the court spoke of a “thickness” when what was surely meant was the width. To me it seems as if the focus should be on a rather unlikely murder weapon.
The analysis was carried out on May 17, 2005 by a captain with an “impressive curriculum vitae to the court, from which his particular expertise and extensive experience in the area under discussion were clearly evident,” and who had moved to South Dakota, USA in November 2005. He reconstructed the wounds on a pig carcasse, lead plate and potter's clay and came to the conclusion: "The wounds must therefore have been caused by at least two objects." Both sides of the ornamental hammer correlated with some wounds on the head. Under cross-examination he admitted that the photographs of the wounds were not always taken from the same angle and wounds may appear larger due to the bruising. A bigger problem was a video recording that showed the ornamental hammer was bent after the second blow. The analysis was therefore carried out with a different hammer, between 37 and 49% larger, and with the claw hammer from the apartment. None of this was listed in his report. When asked further, he stated that the ornamental hammer could not be ruled out as the murder weapon, but the claw hammer could be, as no traces of blood could be found on it. => Why was the investigator in the USA from November 05? Were the replacement hammer and claw hammer visible in the video footage? The bend couldn’t have been caused by the human-like tissue of the pig carcasse, but by the impact on the bone. Pigs have higher bone density. In addition, the reconstructed blow may have been stronger because it hit directly and was not influenced by the victim's defenses, for example.
The explanation of the background of the professor appointed by the defense comprises an entire sub-point. He stated that after reviewing the photos and other evidence, he came to the conclusion that while some of the blows could have come from the ornamental hammer, others were too large to be achieved. “Although he could not rule out that a hammer was used, the nature and appearance of the wounds rather indicated the use of a linear, rigid, rod-shaped or cylindrical object.” He „unequivocally rejected the use of the bottle opener portion (… ) Except in the case of a single wound which appeared to have split the skin quite cleanly" The head injuries (skull base fracture) could only be achieved with great force, like in a car accident, by bricks or when the head is kicked on the floor. At the beginning of the professor's cross-examination by the defense, it was noted that the results of his investigation had not been made available to the State and this could lead to the reopening of the case. “In the end it was not necessary, but it goes without saying that the court must bear in mind that the state could be harmed by this and that the testimony would have to be approached with the necessary caution.” He said he could not rule out the ornamental hammer as a murder weapon, especially considering some of the wounds. He doesn’t want to attack the preliminary investigations, but he couldn't refer to them either "unless it was carried out according to strict scientific principles, which apparently did not happen." => Isn’t it contradictory to state „unequivocally rejected“ and „except in a single wound“? Do I understand it correctly that this professor showed up for the first time in this final trial session and his background was used to prove that his testimony couldn’t be harmful to the state?
In summary, the first investigation “did not materially advance the state’s case”. It was „bordering on unprofessional“ that he didn't mention changing the hammer after the side of the bottle opener was bent. “This omission indeed colored his testimony as a whole.” In contrast to this was the assessment of the professor, who expressed his scientifically based opinion. “Admittedly, the state has indicated that it is considering calling a pathologist to act as its defense counsel. However, this did not happen, with the result that his testimony stands alone as a version that is modeled on forensic medical principles and is accountable.” The conclusion that the ornamental hammer could not be the murder weapon is also based on the fact that no blood and only traces of male DNA were found. It is also questionable why the defendant even told the private detective about his hammer and, if he used it, why he put it back in his bakkie. The fact that he handed it over to the police when asked about something valuable could be because he attached sentimental value to it. “It therefore follows that the court must necessarily rule out the possibility that the ornamental hammer was used as a murder weapon. There is simply not enough evidence to support the state’s allegations in this regard.” => I obviously missed the part, where the existence of blood on the hammer could be refuted. As already mentioned, it is not discussed whether the ornamental hammer could have been used in addition to another heavy object. Instead of a statement from a state pathologist and forensic doctor commenting on a possible sequence of injuries, an ambiguous last minute statement from a professor commissioned by the defense is used here.

Wet specimen beginner
Okay so I'm totally new to diy wet specimens. I'm sorry for the ignorance, but I always find Google overwhelming. I purchased a fetal pig from a vendor and put him in a jar of vodka. Jar is air tight and liquid nailed. I don't think I used the correct fluid though. The skin is peeling off of him now. What should I replace the fluid with before it's too late?

I live in new Mexico, and attend high school. I am in an Anatomy and Physiology Class, and have a vivisection of a fetal pig (which the teacher paraded out in a bad this morning and went into detail about how at least it isnt a cat) assignment which goes against my moral standards. I've asked for an alternate assignment and was told I can watch the vivisection which isn't much better. Not having an alternative assignment feels not only ignorant but lazy. She won't change her mind on this, and I've checked my schools policy and nothing explicitly states I can be exempt but NM local law does. What do I do or how do I proceed in this? If there's nothing I can do that's fine but im frustrated.

Last year on April 26th my son Lev died (worst day of my life). April 28th I was induced and delivered him (most surreal and probably most disassociated day of my life)
Today is his first birthday in the stars. I want to say thank you to this Reddit group for all of the support. Especially to @u/KateCSays. Your comments to my posts in the early days and responses to others helped me so much!!!
It’s been a heavy couple days. Filled with lots of mixed emotions. I feel sad and reflective. I also feel proud and grateful.
Our story: Got pregnant 3ish months after our wedding, had a good anatomy scan at 20 weeks, went in at 25 weeks for another scan and there was an unexpected and incidental finding of fetal ICH (stroke). We made the decision quickly to TFMR and the pregnancy was “interrupted” when I was 26 weeks. All the testing including autopsy was done. No genetic or medical explanation. Chances of this happening is less than 1%. Chance is a bit higher for reoccurrence because I have this history but still less than 1% chance as per MFM.
We waited 5 months to TTC and I’m glad I did this even though I wanted to try again asap. My husband and I both needed time to process what happened and integrate. We got pregnant on 3rd cycle trying, it ended up being a chemical. The cycle after that we got pregnant. I’m 19 weeks 4 days with another boy. Early anatomy scan was last week, it was a good report. Going again next week and will continue to be scanned for “reassurance”.
A big lesson I’ve learned in my grief is you don’t know what tomorrow brings. There is freedom and surrender in that. I knew this logically before but it’s a different thing entirely when you allow yourself to feel your grief. I am still the same person, but less rigid, ego driven and controlling. I am hoping for the best in this pregnancy and I’m scared. I let both things exist at the same time. I don’t know what the future holds. I’m embracing the mystery and experiencing more joy now because I’ve developed the ability to be more present and authentic.
Sending lots of love to people who are in the fresh early days of grief like I was one year ago today. It can and does get better.

My first attempt is under the title THE DESIRES OF OBJECTS (https://www.reddit.com/PubTips/comments/1atahm2/qcrit\_fantasy\_the\_desires\_of\_objects\_80k/) Better, worse? Thanks in advance for any thoughts.
Gill Rewin, former shopkeeper, is freshly unemployed and drowning in debt. A loan shark has already claimed his eye; if he misses another payment, he’ll forfeit his free will. So when a government researcher offers Gill the morally dubious but lucrative job of spying on his former professor, Gill accepts.
In the cutthroat city of Relkavin, power is wielded through potem, manmade objects with magical abilities that manifest spontaneously and mysteriously. These objects run the gamut from weather-predicting trinkets to mind-controlling typewriters. Dr. Harkan Reeves—once a respected scientist, now a paranoid recluse haunted by grief—has allegedly discovered the long-lost secret of creating potem. And Gill was (supposedly) his favorite student. So Gill approaches Harkan and offers his services as an assistant and caretaker. His goal is simple: Win Harkan’s trust, steal the secret, and collect his reward.
As Gill works his way past Harkan’s thorny defenses, however, he grows increasingly attached to the damaged, brilliant man. And when Harkan reveals that potem are created by binding the souls of the deceased to objects, Gill knows he can’t hand this power to the government. But Gill’s deadline is closing in. With no one else to turn to, he must decide whether to tell the truth and place his trust in the man he was supposed to betray.
PEOPLE AS THINGS may appeal to fans of A MARVELLOUS LIGHT or THE BOOK EATERS. It is 96K words.
Chapter One

The shop was quiet. Rain tapped against the dark window like a lonely ghost asking to come in. Gill Rewin had just finished cataloging the most recently acquired items. In one hand, he held a thick, leather-bound book of inventory which contained a listing of all the registration numbers, along with descriptions written in his neat, careful handwriting. He reviewed the latest.
2368: Clay doll, six inches in length, age unknown. Discovered in a cave in the foothills of the Northern Mountains. Increases fertility when carried. Price: 500 d.
507: Candle, four inches long, manufactured within the last ten years, powers a result of spontaneous manifestation. Acquired three months ago. Gentles unruly horses when lit within a twenty-foot range (no effect on humans). Causes unpredictable behavior in dogs and other canines. Price: 40 d.
9112: Glass jar containing one pickled fetal pig, former property of the biology department of Relkavin College, powers a result of spontaneous manifestation. Predicts weather by changing color, pale greenish-gray for approaching rain, pale pink for sun. Occasional aberrations occur. Accuracy not guaranteed, but makes an excellent conversation piece. Price: 80 d.
According to tests, the pig also turned purplish, on occasion—Gill had observed this once—but since this didn’t correspond with any obvious meteorological events, no one had figured out what it meant. Subtle seismic activity deep beneath the Earth’s surface, perhaps, or the erratic movements of planets and moons untold miles away, or some atmospheric fluctuation undetectable to human senses. Potem were full of such mysteries. It was one of their charms.
“I’m going to finish up some paperwork,” Mrs. Prull announced, pulling Gill from his thoughts.

I’ve lurked for a long time. Been secretly comforted by so many mommas here. It’s a stupid and lonely club. But I’m finally ready to tell my girls story and share here with other mommas.
I got pregnant for the first time and had it start out as mono/mono twins (bc of course when that’s the smallest chances of that🙄). I lost sister girl at 7 weeks but bc I had so much bleeding early on I knew from about 5 weeks that one may not fully develop. Funny enough my Eleanor was the one they wasn’t sure would grow.
I had awful on and off bleed. Bright red blood every other week or so during my first trimester. It kinda leveled off when I got to my second but still has issues with it. Thankfully I worked with my OB and she was always able to get me in to check on babe. I worked in L&D as a cst….and knowledge is NOT power sometimes. I have seen and done the worst and pregnancy anxiety was not nice to me. Me and her father weren’t together and he wasn’t around so I did it all by myself every step of the way. My water broke one random day at 25+1 and due to my job I knew it was broken. I was sent to a level 1 trauma hospital with a level 4 NICU (literally the fly babies into this hospital from all around the country) their goal was to keep me pregnant until 32 weeks. I stayed closed and high and thick until active labor kicked in at 26+2. I ended up starting to develop chorio and I had Wonderful beautiful back labor (says sarcastically bc after everything else why not). Had my horrible experience with the mag and went from 2cm to 8cm (they said that’s what I was about) in an hour 1/2 and delivered my girl. 1lb 13oz of spicy girl. It was traumatic because they had lost her heart rate flipping me. She had only wanted to be on my right side. Eleanor was a spicy little girl 😂 anyway when the nurse couldn’t find her heartbeat I panicked and about 40 people ran in. I ended up having an argument mid breakdown with the resident delivering me about the fetal scalp electrodes (it’s a HARD no for me) and was just yelling at them to cut and take her! However my mighty spicy girl was trying to deliver herself!!! I delivered by myself with my mom and her god mother on FaceTime. afterwards I could just stare at the wall trying to even process what had happened. She was born at 11:53am on Christmas Day 2022….also my all time favorite holiday.
My postpartum was easy. My body was so happy to not be pregnant anymore. I had milk from the first pump. I was at least thankful my body was able to do something right for my girl. Then came the NICU journey. And if you know, you know. And I had NICU experience but it never prepared me to go home without my baby everyday and to watch my own baby have her spells and stop breathing. But she rocked out the NICU and was a starrrrr⭐️. A spicy star at that 😂 on January 23 she started having bad spells and had to start getting blow back. But none of her tests came back alarming and everything they did was fine, tests xrays etc. nothing showed any issues. She had just had her 30 day of life brain scan and still not a single bleed. On January 24th we had a beautiful day. Not a single spell. A wonder hour a 1/2 of skin to skin listening to all of our Zach bryan favorites and me singing to her. The moment I put her back she started having spell after spell after spell after spell. And it got to the point where her reps were so shallow the monitor wouldn’t pick them up. I couldn’t handle it anymore. I wish I had stayed. But it’s hard seeing your baby that way. The nurse alerted the doctors and I called to check on her 2 hours later and she was doing better. 2 hours later the doctor called me, she had been given blood and had been intubated and for me to come as quickly as possible. I drove 100 to the hospital an hour away and made it just as she went down again. I watched her heart stop. Watched as they coded her. I knew what was happening but I still forced the doctor to tell me. My scream haunts me to this day. As is me telling the nurses to stop and picking her up.
She was exactly 30 days old. I got 30 days of love with my girl. I believe she gave me that last day because she knew we needed it. I didn’t have an autopsy done. I just couldn’t bare the thought of them cutting into her. I got some answers that day at the hospital from her positive blood cultures. She had contracted klebsiella pneumoniae. A hospital-acquired virus. Thinking back and after so much research I wish I had done the autopsy. I got her medical records back and it showed sepsis and I believe she started to develop NEC. I’ve since learned that the human fortifier they mixed in her milk could increase the chance of it developing and there is a prime time for micros to develop NEC at their adjusted ages of 30-34 weeks. She was 1 say out of 31 weeks.
The journey since hasn’t been easy or beautiful. I ended up in psychosis and tried to commit. I just wanted to be with my daughter. I went through many, many hours of intense outpatient therapy and now have started to reconnect with God and I know she’s waiting for me. Thank you for letting me share my story. I still hold a lot of guilt and feel like I could have been easier on my body, I dont think will ever go away. But I also believe our babies souls were always meant to be ours.

The following is a true story in the small town of Crescent Hill, Indiana. It will likely not be published in newspapers, nor will you find it in online publications. It exists here, and only here, though this too will soon disappear. This is the story of a missing person, Angela Blake, who has now been found.
Crescent Hill is a sleepy, woods-flanked slice of Americana. Within its borders are a single police station, a fire station, and a twenty-four-seven diner. The businesses of Crescent Hill are all family-owned, save for a single Dairy Queen on the long stretch of road leading towards the highway. At the start of this story, there are five hundred and fourteen residents of Crescent Hill, though that number would soon dwindle.
The woods surrounding Crescent Hill carry an air of mystery and forbidding, their density so that one could conceivably enter from Crescent Hill and never make it through to the other side. In all reality, they are just woods, and the stories have been fabricated, expounded upon, and exacerbated due to how little there is to do there. Often, when I'd been sent out to investigate a child that had gone missing in the woods or a creature hiding in the trees, I'd find the child playing in the mud or a neighbor's dog that freed itself from its leash and gotten into the neighbor's trash cans. There was no resident more notorious for such claims than Eugene Blake.
Eugene was fifty-seven years old at the beginning of this case and would be at the time of his death. For fifteen years, he had seen a ghost in every corner and a ghoul behind every tree. I was responding to the two-hundred-fifty-first report he'd made.
"Blake?" I called out from outside his mobile home.
"Hold on there, detective!" He yelled from inside.
He had lived in this motorhome for the better part of those fifteen years, drinking his days away when he wasn't on call at the water treatment plant. He wasn't working that day and, as a consequence, was intoxicated by the time I arrived.
He stumbled out of the motorhome, nearly falling into the fresh mud at his feet.
"Hermann! What took you so long? It's almost three?!"
"Had another call to tend to. What's the problem?"
"What's the problem? Why do you have'ta say it like that?"
"Eugene. Get to it."
"Fine… Fine… Look, I saw something in the woods; I think it could be a bear."
"There are black bears in the woods, Eugene."
"I know, detective, but the fuckin' thing was all mangled. Torn apart." He says seriously.
Often, Eugene gave reports with a tinge of uncertainty: it could be this or might have been that. But his voice was direct, leveled, and assured.
"I'll have a look," I said.
We walked through the trees for about a minute or so, back towards a naturally formed brook that, upon reaching, Eugene admitted to tossing spent beer cans into. And sure enough, there it was. A black bear, not particularly large, maybe three to four hundred pounds, female, with its stomach slit open and its entrails spilled outward. The bear's face had been torn apart, its jaw broken open. It had begun to decompose, indicating it had been killed and left out more than 48 hours prior.
"See, I told ya. Look at it, what could have done that?" Eugene asks anxiously.
He had a point, but the question wasn't "what" but "why?" It could have collapsed for one reason or another, and coyotes could have gotten at it. Why would the entrails be displayed and untouched? And how would they have broken its jaw?
I escorted Eugene back to his motorhome and went back to the station. There isn't much of a protocol for something like this, but the best I can do is send animal control to examine the bear. But I had something else on my mind. Eugene was the type of person you'd mock behind their back, but you couldn't help but feel sorry for him if you looked in his eyes. There's a reason he'd made two-hundred fifty-one reports over the last fifteen years, a reason he'd lived in a motorhome drinking his life away all that time. Or, if not a reason, justification.
Fifteen years ago, his daughter, Angela Blake, aged fifteen, would disappear on the way home from school. She'd taken Pritchett Road as she had every school day for the few years prior. The missing person's report was light on details, as the closest thing to the site of her disappearance was that twenty-four-seven diner, Lucky's. A single patron, swollen with coffee and pancakes, was our only witness, and their description was as follows. "A forest-green sedan, Mercedes, real nice. She got in, and the car sped off, lightning-quick. And the license plate, it was blank!"
We searched through every corner of Crescent Hills for Angela Blake and the green Mercedes, though I was only a patrolman then. Countless hours of investigation, theorizing, even consulting psychics and fortune tellers. Spending our department budget on anything that could get us the slightest bit closer to finding her. It would remain open for a year and then close, unsolved, and it was this that tore the Blake family apart. Eugene and Patricia Blake separated shortly after the closing of the case. I can't blame him, now, for his drinking, for his reports. Maybe he'd just like someone to talk to.
But, every time I see him, I'm brought back to that investigation, brought back to the interview where he sobbed, repeating, "She was wearing a blue t-shirt, jeans, black Converse shoes, she had a red backpack," maybe knowing, somewhere deep within that we'd have to stop looking for her and start looking for artifacts left in her passing.
The missing person's case of Angela Blake would remain closed until the morning after my conversation with Eugene on February 27th this past year. As a patron at Lucky's reported, Angela Blake stepped out of a forest-green Mercedes sedan wearing a blue t-shirt, jeans, black Converse shoes, and a red backpack. And she hadn't aged a day.
February 27th, 2:22 pm. Above, swollen clouds threaten rainfall. A gentle wind cuts through the line of trees on Pritchett Road's eastern side, whistling as it does.
A forest-green Mercedes sedan, make uncertain, pulls to a stop along Pritchett Road 200 feet from the door of Lucky's. Frank Brennan, who'd taken his break from work to visit Lucky's for mid-day pancakes and coffee, watches as a young woman steps out of the Mercedes and stares blankly across the road. The Mercedes then accelerates to a speed approaching eighty miles an hour instantly. There's no smoke, no tire screech, and, to quote, "Frank Brennan, the car wasn't moving, and then suddenly, it was." We wouldn't receive the call until roughly thirty minutes later, when Linda Greene, manager of Lucky's, would report that a girl had just "shown up."
Angela Blake's disappearance had become a ghost story, twisted, morphed, changed over the years to be repurposed for everything from campfire scares to convincing children to come home before dark. It was our rural boogeyman, and everyone in town knew the case. Since Angela's disappearance, there had been no murders, no violent crimes of any kind. The worst offense over the last fifteen years was our Captain accidentally leaving his truck in neutral, having it run over the foot of a poor bastard outside Mill's Hardware. No charges were pressed, and he'd limp the pain away within a month.
Even still, despite the reputation of the Angela Blake case, even though she stepped out of the same car she'd been seen getting into, although she wore the same clothes, no one in Lucky's diner could believe that this was Angela Blake. I couldn't either.
"I'm Detective Hermann. Are you feeling okay?" I asked.
"I'm warm," Angela said.
"Can you tell me your name?"
"Angela. Angela Blake."
At the mention of her name, the small gaggle of patrons, as well as Frank Brennan and Linda Greene, gasped and started talking amongst themselves. The girl calling herself Angela Blake could barely keep her head up. She looked like she hadn't slept in weeks; her eyes were glazed over and yellow with strain. She wore thick, black bags under her eyes.
"Angela Blake went missing fifteen years ago. She'd be thirty by now." I said.
"I'm Angela Blake."
"Can you tell me about the car you were riding in?"
"What car?"
"The green Mercedes. Do you remember who was driving?"
"I don't know what you mean."
"You arrived in a green Mercedes. You stepped out onto Pritchett Road, and it sped away."
"No. I was just walking home from school. I always walk home on Pritchett Road." She responded, her eyes empty, her voice tired and passive.
"You don't remember a green Mercedes?"
"No."
I paused for a moment, trying to piece this together as she stared through a plate of pancakes in front of her. The whole diner, enraptured by our conversation, was quiet enough that you could hear every gentle raindrop patter against the roof. They stared at her with glassy, scared eyes, save for one. A tall, slender man in a black coat, seated alone in the opposite corner, stared as though he were watching a show.
"Angela, can you tell me what year it is?"
This is the first time since our conversation began that she looked up at me. Her eyes were cold and empty, but if she wasn't Angela Blake, I felt that, at that moment, she believed she was. She wondered why I was asking these questions, why the patrons of Lucky's diner were so infatuated with our conversation and her walk home. She stared at each of them, and as I turned to look, I realized the Man in Black had vanished, though his coffee remained.
"Mister Hermann, why are they all looking at me that way?" She asked.
"There just worried about you, that's all. Now, Angela, please, what year is it?"
"Why would you ask me a thing like that?" she responded. "It's two thousand and nine."
Eugene Blake stumbled into the diner in his work uniform. Linda Greene had called his work to look for him a few minutes prior, and Eugene had run out of the plant to his truck and sped down here the moment he'd heard. He's still out of breath.
"Angie!" He cried out.
"Dad?!" She responded.
She hurriedly got up, rushed to him, and sank into his arms. In absolute dumbfounded shock, Eugene stood at the entryway to Lucky's diner, staring into and through her as she fell into his arms. He squeezed her tightly.
"I'm scared." She whimpered.
One by one, the patrons at Lucky's diner would leave as Eugene and Angela stood there clinging to one another. In time, Patricia Reed (formerly Patricia Blake) would join them. I sat there with them, watching, waiting for the girl calling herself Angela Blake to slip, break character. But she never did.
Linda closed the diner for the day. One of only a few times, the diner had defied the "Open 24/7" sign emblazoned on the signpost. I can't be sure how long I sat there or exactly why, but the longer I did, the more my questions bled into each other. I was left only with a sense I couldn't shake. How could this be Angela Blake? She looked like Angela Blake, wore the same clothing she wore when she disappeared, and came from the same type of car Angela Blake had been seen getting into fifteen years prior. But if this was Angela Blake, this was Angela Blake from fifteen years ago, slipped through time and now appearing on the other end.
Then, I noticed two large dots On the underside of Angela Blake's wrist. Rust in color and splotchy. Blood, dried.
Eugene and Angela Blake moved back into the home of Patricia Reed within a week. Outside of the mystique, the questions, and the confusion around the case, the Blake family had returned to a reflection of the family they had once been. The church, which sat only two hundred but held nearly all of Crescent Hill come Sunday morning service, held a prayer for Eugene, Patricia, and Angela that following Sunday.
"After fifteen years of prayers, Crescent Hill's dear Angela Blake has been returned to us. We do not know how or why but must thank god, for our prayers have finally been answered—" He started. And with those words came murmurs from the crowd.
"There's something wrong with her." One whispered.
"Shouldn't she be thirty?" Another said.
"We thank god for blessing the Blake family with her return and for blessing our church with their presence. Let us all now bend our heads and pray." The Pastor finished.
But the congregation on that Sunday morning did not bend their heads, nor did they pray. They stared. As Eugene and Patricia prayed with eyes closed, Angela stared up towards the body of Christ, tortured, mangled, hanging on the cross. And the congregation all stared at her.
Theories ran as rampantly through our five-man police brigade as they did through all of Crescent Hill, though ours sounded differently. All we had to go off of was a metallic residue found on the clothing Angela wore, sulfur dioxide, though that was chalked up to her father's work at the plant, and the blood on the underside of her wrist. It had been washed away the night she was found, and she, as expected, had no explanation for it.
We didn't know this at the time—though if we had, I'm not sure we would have the means to dissuade them—but the town had been slowly coming to a series of strange conclusions around Angela Blake's return. She was a shapeshifter dressed as the missing girl; she was really the devil, and he stole her skin. Those kinds of theories, theories rooted in superstition, quickly dissolve under the slightest prodding or observation, but that did little to dissuade them.
The first question I wanted to answer was, "Is this really Angela Blake?" Her age be damned, if we can at least identify that this really is Angela, then we can start asking the other questions. With our limited resources, with no budget for extravagant tests, and no large hospital to test them in, we settled on a paternity test.
"A paternity test? Are you out of your mind?" Eugene barked.
"We're just trying to figure a few things out," I responded.
For the first time that I've seen in those 15 years, Eugene was stone sober, clean-shaven, and with his hair properly tended to. He looked foreign to me now. The man who tossed his beer cans in the brook out of his mobile home, seemingly buried deep and replaced upon Angela's return.
"Like what, Al, like what?" He asked.
I pulled him aside. "Eugene, has it not struck you as odd that she's the same age as when she disappeared?" I asked. "Has it not struck you as odd that she's wearing the same clothes she disappeared in, the same clothes you gave a statement to?"
He looked past me into the living room, where Patricia and Angela sat side by side. "What does it matter if I have her back?" He responded emptily.
Maybe it was curiosity, fear, or the desire to put the ceaseless rumors around them to rest, but he would eventually allow us to perform a paternity test. According to this test, the girl was indeed Eugene's daughter. Upon completing the test and receiving the results, Eugene asked me, "Al, this was an unsolved case for 15 years; I have my girl back; can you just leave it unsolved? I want this to be over. I want things to go back to normal." I wish I could have obliged that request; I wish we could have left this story, this case, in the past and allowed the Blake family to resume or reattain whatever their version of a normal life could look like. None of us would be so lucky.
On March 1st, around 1 am, a passerby in a pickup truck spotted Angela Blake on Pritchett Road. She was standing in the same position she'd been left in by the green Mercedes, staring into the dense forest on the other side of the road. I was second to be called and third to arrive, Eugene having beaten me there only a few minutes. She sat in the back of Captain Tillo's squad car.
"It's nothing, Al, don't blow it out of proportion." Eugene would say. But his words and the look in his eyes were in opposition, the worry boiling over and spilling into the air around him. You could feel it on him, the stench of desperation, of fear, a pheromone dispersed into the air as his soul begged for help.
That night, we would come to an agreement. The Crescent Hill police department recommended transferring her to a rehabilitation center a few hours North. A hospital with the proper tools and infrastructure to examine Angela with the appropriate depth. On the other hand, Eugene was desperate for this report to be off the record entirely. Instead, we'd decide that Angela would be seen by our town psychiatrist for evaluation, who would recommend how to proceed. In the meantime, we would sit in on the sessions and continue our investigation as quietly as possible.
"Ain't it enough that everyone is talking about her, Al?" He asked.
"Can you blame them?" I responded.
I didn't mean it to come out so biting; I didn't mean for the words to dig into him the way they did, to wound him. But wound them they did, and deeply so. And, in retrospect, I realize it wasn't the words themselves or that I had said them, but that within himself were those same questions, those same concerns, and a desperation to silence them.
Captain Tillo stayed there, staring at the road and the line of trees, periodically looking up toward the crescent moon. And he said something to me that I haven't stopped thinking about since.
"Ain't it strange we've had nothing bad happen since she was gone? Not a murder, or assault, or an accident of any kind." He shuddered. "Never forgave myself for not finding her. And her being back hasn't softened that feeling a bit… I got this bad feeling, Al. I got this bad feeling about the girl. Like she's back to collect the debt for the last fifteen years."
The next day, Patricia would leave the house, Eugene and Angela behind, along with a note. The note, written in smudged, hurried handwriting, would become another scrutinized, theorized, and embellished whisper shared over every meal at Lucky's, every family dinner, and every garage beer. To some, it was pages long condemnation and quoted the Bible; to others, it was a suicide note left to provide closure. But, this note was neither of those and said far more than any of those could have in the five plain words scribbled across the page:
"THAT IS NOT MY DAUGHTER"
I was desperate for anything that could point to an explanation for Angela Blake. There was, at the time, only a single other case in Crescent Hill, that being the mutilated bear in the creak by Eugene's mobile home. The results, according to the vet, were "inconclusive," but in conversation, he said to me plain as day, "I couldn't tell you what the fuck happened." Due to the state of decomposition, the bear was in and his relative inexperience in autopsy analysis, all he could parse out from the corpse was a single, loose thought: "I can't imagine an animal that would do this."
"Angela, could you tell me what you remember from that night? From the night you got into that car?" Doctor Meadows asked.
It was quiet in the Blake House that evening without so much as the rustle of a breeze to cut the silence. Despite sitting in the next room, Eugene and I could hear the breath rise and fall in Angela's throat as she searched for words. A group of onlookers had formed outside, desperate for a glimpse inside. Doctor Meadows, the only psychiatrist still licensed in a nearly 50-mile radius, was called in to help us. Technically, we can't interrogate Angela, as she'd not committed a crime. And this, per the agreement with Eugene, was as close as we could get. Doctor Meadows stared at her, examining the flutter of Angela's pupils as they struggled to focus.
"Angela, can you tell me what you remember?" She repeated.
"Warm," Angela said, finally.
"You remember being warm?" Meadows asked.
"Not just warm. Hot. I can feel it now." Tears come to Angela's eyes.
"Do you need some air?"
Angela went quiet again as her face grew red. Eugene sat across from me, staring into the reflection made at the surface of his coffee. He was tired, bags stretched from under his eyes down the length of his cheeks, his brow furrowed in a permanent strain.
"My skin is burning," Angela said finally, her eyes widening until the tears had no choice but to fall.
Eugene's eyes rose from his coffee to meet mine.
"What do you mean?" Meadows asked.
"My skin is burning. My skin is melting from my bones. I can feel the fire—"
"Angela, you're here with me; you're safe, "Doctor Meadows interjected. But it was of no use.
"—My bones burned, the marrow melts, the marrow melts, the marrow melts."
Eugene quickly rose, pushed past me, and ran to Angela's side, wrapping her in his arms. But she just kept screaming.
"The marrow melts."
I already tried to hand this case off to a better-equipped agency, but none of the agencies would return my call. Hoping it might make some information materialize, I tried leaking this to every major news corporation in America, but none of them had any interest. We had, at present, no information on the car, with no one within fifty miles having seen it besides that patron from Lucky's. Angela had given us no further details, as this session was, until that point, the most she'd said. So, that night, persuaded by a drink-too-many, I returned to Pritchett Street to investigate on foot.
The tree line, thick with fog, consumed my flashlight's beam, bleeding it through the trees. I stood there in the road, waiting for something, anything, willing to accept UFOs, Demons, or a Windigo's advance so long as it would explain this case to me. Instead, I found a single, five-and-a-half size sneaker turned over and a foot trail leading into the trees. I followed.
Hung between two oak trees, held by harnesses made from the clothing she would have worn, with her stomach slit open and her entrails spilled forth, was another girl. At roughly 3 am, after paramedics and police officers had cut her down, she'd be identified as Caroline Tull, aged 15. She was supposed to have gone on a school field trip on February 28th, and her return would not have been for another day or so. Assuming she'd opted out when she didn't show, the school simply marked her absent and docked her points. Her parents, who'd assumed she'd joined the trip as intended, figured she was having too much fun and wanted to adopt some independence. Captain Tillo later told me her family asked only a single question when they were told. "Was it that fucking girl? Was it Angela Blake?" There was one last piece of evidence, something that would only further persuade me to a conclusion I'd make that night. On the clothes that held Caroline Tull up by a tree branch was the same chemical found on Angela Blake's clothes: Sulfur Dioxide.
It took a while for it to strike me, so long that I'd reach my driveway before the thought would occur, and then I'd sit there with it, the car idle, for some time before I let the thought solidify. Angela, the day she was found, had blood on her wrist but no cut from which she could have bled. Who's blood was it?
"I was with her all night," Eugene said.
But that didn't dissuade the Mob that started forming at the perimeter of his house. A mob, consisting of concerned citizens with signs emblazoned with scripture and condemnations, barked at every movement inside the home.
"How could you think she'd do something like this?" He asked.
"I'm not saying I think she did anything. But Angela went to that spot the night before, and we found her staring in the same direction as the body was found!" I responded.
"I don't know what happened. And I'm sorry for what happened to the girl. But I was with her all night every night since she went out there, and that girl wasn't there then."
"Caroline Tull," I responded.
"Don't you say her fucking name like it's supposed to get a rise out of me—"
"That's her name."
"—Like I have some guilt I'm carrying—"
"Fifteen years old, like Angela was."
"Like Angela is."
"Do you really believe that?" I asked. "Do you really believe, deep in your gut, Eugene, deep in your fucking gut, do you really believe that Angela disappeared fifteen years ago, didn't age a day, and came back?"
"Hermann, don't push me."
"Your ex-wife didn't believe it, Eugene. Your ex-wife knew something was wrong."
"Hermann, I swear to god—"
"That's why she left. She knew that whatever that CAN'T BE ANGELA—"
Eugene struck me on the left side, just under my eye. Quickly, Captain Tillo grappled Eugene and slammed him onto the tile floor. Angela, meanwhile, sitting on the couch in the family room, in the same spot as she had the day prior, didn't so much as look up.
"What choice do I have, Al? WHAT CHOICE DO I HAVE?" He'd scream, beg, even. And still, Angela didn't look up. This would be the last conversation I'd have with Eugene, and regardless of what my gut told me, now I wished I had been just a little bit kinder. The Mob that formed around the house would remain through the night, and Captain Tillo would stay there, staring out of them. Before I left, he said, "This ain't right, Al. They ain't right." And, at the time, I didn't quite grasp what he meant or think about it too deeply. But I understand now. It wasn't about Angela Blake, Caroline Tull, or the crowd itself. It was about the people in the crowd galvanized in an ethereal, malevolent way. He looked out at a crowd of people he knew, and yet he couldn’t recognize any of them.
The following day, around 4 pm, Eugene, with Angela in tow, drunkenly stumbled into the police station. He had a few bruises on his arms and a scratch along his face. "They threw rocks at us!" he cried loudly, demanding we believe him when he told us Caroline's death wasn't Angela's fault. He'd spend the night in the drunk tank, with no family to send her to and her safety in question; Angela would remain at the station, too.
I'm going to do my best now to transcribe the conversation as it happened, but the further I've gotten from this case, the more the feelings have overtaken the specifics of the words and corrupted them. It's eight-thirty pm. All officers, except Constance at the front desk, are out on patrol. Angela Blake, who had been unable to answer our questions previously, now sits across from me on the other side of the iron bars.
"Angela. I'm going to ask you a few questions, okay?" I asked. "Do you remember my name?"
"No."
"That's okay, I'm Detective Albert Hermann."
"What questions?"
"Questions about Caroline Tull."
"What questions about Caroline Tull?"
"Did you know her?"
"No."
"I want to ask you about when you were gone. Can you tell me everything you remember?"
"It's hard."
"Try. Just try."
"There was a man in the car. He asked me if I needed a ride. But he didn't ask me with words."
"What do you mean?"
"He just looked at me, and he knew what I needed, and I knew he would give it to me, so I got in."
"What did he look like?"
"He didn't look like anyone—"
"He didn't look like anyone you know?"
"No. He didn't look like anyone at all. And he looked like everyone. And then he looked like no one again."
"What happened when you got into the car."
"Nothing. I don't remember the car. I just remember how his face changed and how the fire felt. It burned my hair and my skin and then my bones. And it felt so good to be free," she said as tears ran from her eyes. "Maybe that's why he took Caroline—to show her too," she said.
The knuckle of my middle finger broke as I slammed my hand into the bars, but I wouldn't yet feel it.
"You and Caroline Tull had the same metallic substance on your clothing. You and her are connected! Stop fucking with me, and tell me what you know!"
And suddenly, as if by the switch, her tears stopped, the redness disappeared from her eyes, the veins in her forehead subsided, and she responded simply, "Maybe he'll show you too."
I would leave her then, out of an anger I used to mask my fear, and the following morning, we'd let her and Eugene Blake go. She was, by police account, a person with a fractured mind in need of medical help. And beyond the connection of Sulfur Dioxide, the best we could do was keep her on suspicion. But the idea of letting her go would quickly become moot. The Mob that gathered around the Blake home would set it ablaze, and it would burn down to embers and ash by morning. And, before daybreak, that same Mob, burdened by a blind, visceral rage, armed with biblical signs and vile threats, would surround the Crescent Hill police station.
The details around the case, the sulfur dioxide, Angela's comments, and even the bear had all spread first through the police station and then out onto the streets and into the homes of Crescent Hill, carrying with them vague but loud assertions: Angela Blake was a rot that threatened the way of life in Crescent Hill. And that rot must be eradicated.
The Mob, which formed outside the police station, yelled, screamed, and waved their signs with an impossible energy—an intensity that should have seen the skin of their throats grow sore or the joints in their shoulders grow heavy. Maybe they did, but they persisted nonetheless. I watched them from beyond the glass doors at the front of the station and looked into the Mob of familiar faces, yet I recognized none.
Angela was seated at my desk, and Eugene sat by a window next to the entryway, staring out into the crowd. The officers on patrol either couldn't hear them or disregarded my constant calls for backup. That is, save for Captain Tillo, who I watched try desperately to work his way through the crowd.
It began with a single bullet shattering through the window at the front, striking Eugene in the temple. He bled profusely, the small caliber round embedding itself between the skin and the skull. He was conscious, though delirious, and couldn't summon the words to question what was happening. I dragged him behind the front desk, taking cover.
A second crash, a flaming bottle slamming into the station's exterior, catching the scaffolding ablaze. The crowd rushed forward, banging against the doors. They slammed, again and again, the door frame warping, the glass breaking. But Angela did not move.
Finally, their voices caught up to me. "Kill her!" Like pigs desperate for a meal, they squealed, hungry for Angela's recompense. Finally, they broke through the doors and funneled in. And again, Angela did not move.
The fire spread quickly now. So quickly, it would consume the entire eastern side of the station. I tried to get to her, despite the voice, despite the voice telling me to stay, despite the voice telling me to let it happen, I ran to her. But the Mob trampled over me. I felt the bones of my left leg break underfoot, and I watched helplessly as they descended upon Eugene and Angela Blake.
Another Molotov sailed through the window on the station's western end and carried an immense wave of heat. Despite the fire burning away their clothes, hair, and skin, the Mob that descended upon Angela and Eugene Blake didn't stop. Eugene died of blood loss; he'd live through thirty-one stabbings and die before the thirty-second. All told he'd have seventy or so before those around him would succumb to the flames. Angela, who I saw beaten and stabbed, did not react nor move. She simply closed her eyes and waited for the flames to take her.
Captain Tillo would be the one to drag me out. I saw them then up close, faces I'd seen thousands of times before, now unfamiliar, the other officers I'd called for backup, all hissing, crying, and begging for Angela's death along with the rest of Crescent Hill. All of Crescent Hill was desperate for blood. All of Crescent Hill save for one, the man in black, who watched with a gentle smile, enjoying the show. I understood then what Angela meant. The man in black didn't look like anyone. And he looked like everyone. And then, once again, he looked like no one at all.
All told, twenty-two people died that night, twenty from the crowd, as well as Angela and Eugene Blake. No one was charged, and no one was blamed, and in the end, it'll likely become another of Crescent Hill's ghost stories. After all, you can't arrest an entire town. Later on, Captain Tillo would end his life by hanging, leaving behind a note that simply read, "I'm sorry." I'm sure he carried an immense guilt for how this story ended; I know I do.
The following morning, the residents of Crescent Hill would talk about that night as though it were an accident. A fire had broken out, and the townsfolk had rushed in to save us. The report indicating stab wounds on Eugene Blake would find its way into a bin and be erased from the record. The last I heard was the autopsy report on Angela Blake. Before that, too, would go missing. They didn't find a demon under the skin or a shapeshifter from the deep.
They found a fifteen-year-old girl burned until the marrow melted.

Another piece of evidence the State relied on at Fred’s trial was a hammer he owned, which they alleged was the murder weapon.
________________________________________________________________

Who is who

Provincial Crime Scene Investigation

• Superintendent Johannes Kock

Forensic Scientists

• Sergeant Peta Davidtsz - forensic scientist at the Biology Unit of the Forensic Science Laboratory
• Superintendent Sharlene Otto - Chief Forensic Analyst, Biology Unit of the Forensic Science Laboratory
• Captain Frans Maritz - Senior Forensic Analyst, Ballistics Unit of the Forensic Science Laboratory

Experts at Trial

• Professor Gert Saayman - Head of the Department of Forensic Medicine in the Faculty of Health Sciences at the University of Pretoria and Chief Specialist in Forensic Pathology Services for Northern Gauteng

________________________________________________________________
​

Inge’s hammer

One of the items found in Inge’s apartment was a claw hammer, described by Superintendent Kock as a woodworking or handyman's hammer.
On one side of the head it had a round striking part and on the other side a two-toothed claw with which nails could be pulled out.
To note: this hammer was considerably larger than the Fred’s ornamental hammer.
You will remember from this post, that Dr Adendorff told detectives to look for a hammer.
I want to note here that from a forensic pathology view, it’s not possible to come up with what specific instrument caused the wounds – instead, it can be said wether or not a weapon is consistent with the injury patterns – if there is an item that could have possibly caused the injury and there is nothing to factually exclude it from causing said injury, then it would be something that could have caused it.

Fred’s ornamental hammer

Inge and her parents had given Fred an ornamental hammer as a gift Christmas 2004, engraved with “Fred 2004”. It had a hammer head on one side, and a bottle opener on the other. You can see it here.
He stated that he put it in his bakkie (“pickup”) under the driver’s seat and forgot about it. Here is a photo in situ.
On the 15th April 2005, police asked Fred if he had anything of value in his bakkie as they had wanted to seize the vehicle. Fred remembered the hammer, which had sentimental value to him, and took it out of the bakkie.
​

Testing the hammer for blood and DNA

Sergeant Peta Davidtsz tested the hammer with luminol for the presence of blood and found that it was possible that blood could be present on it. She suspected that it was blood but emphasized that the test was simply part of a screening process. She stated that she would eliminate most other substances that would react positively to the luminol in favour of her suspicion that there was blood on the hammer.
Superintendent Sharlene Otto tested, among other things the "presumably watery blood solution", which came from the hammer. She concluded that "the small amount of genetic material isolated from the hammer indicates male genetic material".
The male person from whom the said genetic material came was not identified by Superintendent Otto as Fred or anyone else.
However, Judge van Zyl noted that from Fred’s testimony, it can be inferred in all probability that it did come from him, as there is no indication that any other male person physically touched the hammer. He noted that the genetic material does not necessarily mean that it had to be blood. It could even be attributed to skin tissue or body fluids, such as sweat secretion.
​

Testing the marks the hammer makes

At Fred’s trial, the State relied heavily on the testimony of Captain Frans Maritz to demonstrate that the nature of the wounds on Inge’s head indicated the use of the ornamental hammer as the blunt force murder weapon. It was argued that both sides of the head of the hammer, namely the striking surface side and the bottle opener side, were responsible for the wounds.
In May 2005, Captain Maritz forensically examined the ornamental hammer to try to determine whether it could have been responsible for the wounds to Inge’s head. He compared the nature and extent of the wounds with the shape and dimensions of the round flat striking surface and the bottle opener portion of the hammer.
The striking face had an average diameter of about 21.68mm, while the maximum width of the bottle opener was about 37.22mm.
Using the hammer's striking face and the bottle opener part of it, he carried out tool mark tests on a pig carcass, pig skulls and sheep skulls - the skin of which is closest to human skin tissue.
He made impressions of it on lead plate and potter's clay and cast a human ear model. He conducted his investigation based on the autopsy report, photographs of the crime scene and digital images. From this he deduced that the wounds on the skull had the description and physical appearance of wounds caused by blunt force (cut wounds), while the wounds on the neck and chest had the description and physical appearance of wounds caused by sharp force (stab wounds). The wounds must therefore have been caused by at least two objects.
Captain Maritz then compared the shape and measurements of the head wounds with the results of the tool mark as well as tests with the impressions and casting mentioned above. Using transparencies, he was able to show a match between the wounds and the tool marks. He concluded that the most prominent wound on Inge’s head and the wound just behind her left ear and auricle could fit the dimensions and profile of both application surfaces of the hammer (i.e. the striking surface and the bottle opener portion of it).
He was also able to match the class characteristics of the tool marks left by both application levels of the hammer on the respective test mediums, including skin tissue, bone tissue and lead plate. Captain Maritz pointed out that the striking face of the hammer left a circular, semi-circular and "bean-shaped" (or "kidney-shaped") indentation when it struck a rounded surface. The bottle opener again left a slightly curved oblong indentation when it hit a surface, and the tips of the impression curled inwards at times and tended to appear "dilated and chamfered" in certain cases. This could be attributed to the thickened curves on either side of the bottle opener. Furthermore, it appeared that the inside curl of the bottle opener's tool mark profile curled to the opposite side of the hammer.
In cross-examination, Captain Maritz conceded that the photographs he used to reach his findings were not all taken at right angles from above, so that the angle from which the photographs were taken could be misleading. He also admitted that there were sometimes differences in the sizes of the wounds compared to those of the tool marks. However, he explained this by pointing out that the human skin tissue is elastic and naturally tends to return to its original position. Additionally, bruising around a wound would make the wound appear larger than it really is.

The video comes to light

A serious problem emerged from a video recording of the tests on a pig's head. With the first or second blow of the bottle opener side of the hammer, the bottle opener bent. This was never mentioned in Captain Maritz's report. It was also not mentioned that, fearing that the bent part of the hammer would break off if it were to be used further, he had with obtained a similar hammer to continue his tests, despite the fact that its measurements in some respects differed significantly, between 37% and 49%, from those of the ornamental hammer.
When he was asked if he could rule out the ornamental hammer as a murder weapon, his answer was: "Your Honour, based on the class characteristics left by the tool mark caused by the ornamental hammer, it cannot be ruled out beyond reasonable doubt". He was satisfied that its use was consistent with the nature of the blunt force wounds to the deceased's head.
However, it was different with the claw hammer found in the deceased's apartment. He would definitively rule it out as a possible murder weapon: neither the striking side nor the claw part were compatible with the head wounds. This is consistent with Sergeant Peta Davidtsz's finding that she could find no trace of possible blood on it.

Professor Gert Saayman for the defence

The defense's answer to Captain Maritz was Professor Gert Saayman.
Professor Saayman thought that it was highly unlikely that Inge’s injuries were caused by the ornamental hammer. He conceded that some of the wounds might be compatible with its use, but still considered it unlikely. He generally attributed this to the fact that the head wounds were obviously greater than one would expect from the hammer's impact level. Although he could not rule out that a hammer was used, the nature and appearance of the wounds rather indicated the use of a linear, rigid, rod-shaped or cylindrical object.
He also unequivocally rejected the use of the bottle opener portion of the hammer, because for practical purposes it had a sharp rather than a blunt striking face. Except in the case of a single wound which appeared to have split the skin quite cleanly, it was highly unlikely that it could have caused any of the wounds.
A further problem Professor Saayman had with the hammer as a possible murder weapon was that it was relatively small and light and unlikely to have caused such serious wounds as driven fractures and a skull base fracture. He described it precisely as "a small hammer" which was simply not compatible with such violently-caused trauma. Rather, it correlated with a relatively heavy and much larger object with a wider impact surface than that of the hammer.
Professor Saayman further suggested that the nature of the head wounds was such that the use of two blunt force objects could not be ruled out. Some of the wounds had the appearance that they could have been caused by a linear rod-shaped object, while others, such as the large driven skull fractures and the skull base fracture, could have been the result of blows with an irregular, yet still heavy, object.

Judge van Zyl’s Conclusion

Judge van Zyl concluded that the tests Captain Maritz made with transparencies were attractive on the surface, but apparenty didn’t meet the scientific precision required for the accuracy of such a test, as pointed out by Professor Saayman.
In addition, the tests with the ornamental hammer, which he later replaced with a bigger hammer were completely unrealiable. Judge van Zyl went further and stated that it bordered on unprofessional that in his affidavit Captain Maritz did not say a word about the bending of the ornamental hammer's bottle opener part and its later replacement with a similar hammer. This omission coloured his testimony as a whole.
The Judge found Professor Saayman’s testimony clear, and that his conclusion that it was highly unlikely the hammer caused the wounds was supported by the fact that no blood could be found on the hammer and that it revealed only traces of male genetic material.
The Judge also stated that it is highly unlikely, if it was indeed a murder weapon, that the Fred would have left it in the back of his bakkie and shown it to the police when they wanted to seize the bakkie.
He concluded: “It therefore follows that the court must necessarily rule out the possibility that the ornamental hammer was used as a murder weapon. There is simply not enough evidence to support the state's allegations in this regard.”
​
_______________________________________________
​

Further Reading

The Mollett Brothers have done extensive writeups about the hammer, which I am linking below if you want to delve into it. Trigger Warning: Graphic content of Inge’s injuries.
The Hammer
The Head Wounds
No Blood on the Hammer?
Why did the Hammer Bend?

Alright suppose i ought to get introductions out of the way my name is horatio barnes i'm a detective for the mountain city police department and about 4 weeks ago i was called up to a farmhouse in the mountains and upon getting up there the sight was something else the property was surrounded by a nine foot tall electrified fence with barbed wire lining the top the driveway was was a long gravel path the house was 2 stories with a rap around porch and appeared to be rather old there was another smaller house nearby a barn behind the house and a shed with a sizable generator inside (figured it powered the fence) i walked up the porch stairs and was struck by the well lack of forced entry the door was undamaged there was no sign of blood on the porch or immediately inside the house i walked in taking note of my surroundings and noticed the body of the first victem in the kitchen blood spray caked onto the ceiling a large hunting rifle lay next to him and his throat was clearly slashed just then sergeant crane walked up to me to bring me to the second crime scene we walked up the stairs as i noticed the unmistakable stench of death i looked into the guest bedroom and saw the bodies of several household pets torn apart like some animal had broken in then we got to the master bedroom the other residents body laid here a young adult male cut in half at the waist i was then brought to the second house a third murder where a female body was found she appeared to have fallen asleep after watching tv and never heard her killer coming she was sitting on the couch with no signs of damage from a first glance however from a closure inspection a hole from one temple to the other was present i had to take a moment before heading to the barn after i had time to breathe i was brought to the barn where we found half a dozen pigs slaughtered and a farmhand who had been disemboweled it was then that we were alerted to a 5th murder after 12 minutes of walking on the property we came to a ramshackle residence made from shipping containers a young woman was inside she had been cut open and later autopsy revealed her heart was missing i realized something immediately and finished up at the crime scene fast as i could then drove to the nearby reservation.
i suppose i ought to explain myself well you see a few years back there was a murder eerily similar to the last girl a family was killed and the youngest was cut open and his heart was taken eventually dna evidence lead us to a mr.dulahan adakai who later confessed he'd done it as a ritual right of passage his tribe once did to prove he was a man to his father (later on i found out normally it involves a bear but this sick bastard went after a family of 5) he's still in prison but his son isn't.
when i arrived at his house i found it empty no signs he'd been there recently so i went to his mother (a kind woman by all accounts was absolutely horrified by her husbands actions she even denounced their marriage during his hearing) i arrived and found her sitting with an elderly man turned out to be her father they told me chaska had been out on a "spirit journey" to find himself after overcoming an alcohol addiction i asked how long and he'd been out for 3 days i asked if they had a way of tracking him and his grandfather gave me a gps locked onto a tracked in an earing he wears i got up and left to find him sure atleast if he's not involved he might know who is.
i was about a mile from his location when my truck could go no further i got out and grabbed my hunting thirty aught six figured i might need it who knows what kinds of drugs he might be on to "connect with the spirits" as i'm walking up to his position i catch an all too familiar stench and start rushing to him i burst out into a clearing and find chaska or atleast what was left of him and there wasn't much his ear was really all that was left and it was tattered i couldn't find his well everything else just his ear and then i heard him screaming the voice was his but off discordant it was almost like a growl more so than a scream in retrospect i shouldn't have ran to help but i did as i aproached the screams stopped not cut off but like someone stopped to breathe i arrived at a holler and descended into it only to be pulled into a cave by the man i was after he put his finger to his lips telling me to shut up and gestured to the ridge above i then saw it sitting in a tree poised to strike then it started screaming this time in the voice of a young girl just as off as before it's face was like a man a very old man it had long arms big hands and claws and two legs it was wearing a cloak of rags and had what looked like branches growing from it's head i looked at chaska with a face of wtf is that and he just said "skinwalker" i said don't they look like werewolves? chaska replied with "kroe is different" it left after a while and chaska explained to me who kroe is.
chaska adakai: kroe is my great great great great grandfather he was a normal human but he made a mistake while becoming a skinwalker the creature he skinned was a wendigo the reason the dna at the crime way back then matched my dad was because kroe did it he's insane and very dangerous but he can turn human and feign weakness to hunt.
horatio barnes: so your ancestor is a monster that kills people and your family knew this so why have't you taken him out?
chaska adakai: well if he dies so do we.
horatio barnes: what that doesn't make any sence?
chaska adakai: blinks revealing inhuman eyes do you understand now?
horatio barnes: well fuck now what
chaska adakai: now you need to leave i'm going to handle this.
horatio barnes: and what if i say no.
chaska adakai: not your choice leave now or die here.
so i left found my way back to my truck and drove away so we are caught up to now me writing this story at home the kids asleep and my wife is in the living room.
kroe adakai: utseli usdayvhvsgi iyudina nasgigesvna uha ulisgolvtanv ayv hawinaditlv (cherokee: his wife should not have let me in)

Why do you hurt yourself?
Because I believe I should.
Why do you wander?
Because I have nothing else to do.
Seeing pictures of other people. Walking down the street and looking at the faces of strangers. It lights the coals of my burning self hatred. To see someone be so beautiful. And me so detestable. I thinks it’s part of the reason I’m more interested and more attracted to people who look Imperfect. Especially when they have more weight on them.
When I see someone truly beautiful my brain immediately tells me to basically ignore them out of fear. My brain puts the dots together for me and tells me I’m sewage compared to them and thus am unworthy of speaking to them and that it’s impossible that a connection could be made. Despite this my mind zooms in on them when I first see them. I imagine a thousand possibilities. I imagine different freak scenarios which I’ve only heard of through word of mouth and movies. Then they leave my sight forever. And I come to the old immovable truth. That it will always be a fairytale. Images of gripping bed sheets and laughing watching movies are extinguished by her back walking away. I don’t know her. And I never will.
The same girl walks into my sight. Only she’s about 30 or 50 pounds heavier. I’m more attracted to her. Why? Because my brain believes that the chances of her finding me attractive and actually being with her are higher. I don’t believe I’m beautiful. I feel ugly, like a beaten pig. Therefore I can’t believe that others will and that they will accept me. So when I find someone who I think could share the same problems based on quick and rude judgements I find it more believable they’ll accept me. Because truth be told I’ll accept anyone. And I hate that. I hate that I’m that shallow. That I’m that pathetic and disrespectful about people and woman. My mind sees many woman as saviours. As objects for my pleasure. Not just physically but mentally too.
The toxic waste leaks out of my ears. I have a lot of issues. And I’m scared of loving someone because of that. I’m scared of hurting someone. I’m scared of being hurt. I’m scared of shame. I’m scared of not being enough. I want to be held and told its alright and I’m perfect and that I don’t have to be anything else then what I am. In the fetal position being held by someone safe. Shushing my cries and whimpers. The saviour complex. An excuse for weaklings like me to ignore their problems. There’s this thought that keeps popping up in my head. That if I was American. I’d probably be dead. I would have gone into mams closet and unlocked the gun safe. Then I would have shot myself in the head. So easy. Too easy. I’m scared of that thought yet I want it so bad in my darkest times. Just pick something up and point and click. So quick you can’t change your mind. I don’t know if I’m grateful I’m European or spiteful because I’m not. That eternal sleep. The infinite blackness which consumes me like a warm bath. It calls to me. But for now I must tell it to wait.

I hit the character limit on my last post. This is a work in progress.
Part one is here

Skill guide is here

Part 1 ended with the acquisition of Wompty Dompty, but there are still some fairly important things to get
​
PART 9: GET ACCESS TO REMOTE VIEWERS DIVISION

1. You should have 323xp. Unlock +1 Thought Cabinet. Buy +1 Encyclopedia.
2. Total: 123xp.
3. Equip flashlight, and crowbar.
4. Go back to the bookstore.
5. Search: Closed Curtains >> 1-"Shopkeeper" (10xp) -> 2-Examine strange (10xp) -> 3-(Pull open) -> 2-"But I sense" (2/6 remote?) -> 3-"I don't care" -> [Leave]
6. Talk: Plaisance >> 1-"Before we go" -> 4-"Excuse me" -> 2-"So, are you?" -> 1-"Why are... books?" -> 1-"How does?" -> 2-"Wait, that's it?" -> 1-"Strange" -> 2-"Why didn't you?" (10xp) -> 3-"Have you sought help?" -> 4-"Is your pendant?" -> 5-"Would... take case?" -> [Leave]; quicksave
   1. Note: If you have 11+ Inland, you get a +1 to drama whitecheck but, if you also have 10+ drama, it stops the Inland text (and whitecheck bonus) from appearing (first time I've seen that happen).
7. Talk: Plaisance >> Drama whitecheck: 83% [success] -> 1-"Wait, what if?" -> 1-"I admit" (3/6 remote?) -> 1-"Your wards" -> 1-"No problem" -> 1-(A hand) {4/5 honor cop} -> 2-"Of course" -> 2-"Chimney... the passage" (internalize law jaw) -> [Leave]
   1. Note: If Law Jaw internalizes as you open the door, it causes some sort of issue with loading. So I added some dialogs to finish this now. I it's not internalized talk more.
   2. Note: Failing allows for you to gain another 10xp. However, after doing MULTIPLE runs, making many choices, the only one that ended up getting the thought was my first run, which ended up being surprisingly perfect (a lot of seemingly minor choices can mess up this section). I may revisit this later on.
8. Click white orb. Law Jaw is now internalized. Hand/Eye will succeed all passive checks.
9. Search: Closed Curtains >> 1-Pull curtains -> END
10. Click all orbs in this room. For some reason, you need to click on a few orbs after opening the curtains. The ones in this room are enough. You'll get the rest later.
11. Search: Warded Door >> 2-Unlock door (5xp) -> 2-[Open door] -> END
12. Talk: Kim >> 2-"It's the netherworld" (4/6 remote?) -> 1-"What if?" -> END
13. Just go straight to the door at the upper left corner, and then find the funace.
14. Equip necktie; quicksave.
15. Search: Central Furnace >> 3-Smear your hands -> 1-Hadramut Karzai! -> 1-"I am the reincarnation" (10xp) -> Authority redcheck: 72% [success] -> 1-"This is traditional" (5+10xp) -> 1-"Kim?" -> 2-Look inside -> 1-"I'm hallucinating" -> 4-"Those voices" -> [Leave]; quicksave
16. Search: Central Furnace >> Physical Instrument whitecheck: 72% [success] -> 2-"I summon" (5xp) -> [Leave]
17. Equip bowtie.
18. Talk: Novelty Dicemaker >> 1-"Hold on" -> 2-"You must have" -> 3-(move on) -> 3-"No, I was" (10xp) -> 4-"Hey, where?" -> 5-"I've heard" -> 2-"Plaisance" -> 2-"The curse" -> 1-"Hold on"-> 2-"No, the Whirling" -> 1-"Plaisance thinks" -> 1-"l think" -> 1-"I yelled" -> 1-"I believe... Remote Viewers Division" (5/6 remote?) -> [Leave]
19. Talk: Plaisance >> 1-"It was a charnel" (6/6 remote) -> 4-"I talked to" ->2-"No ma'am" -> 2-"There is another" (70xp) -> [Leave]
20. Blue orb (Inland Empire) >> 1-Yes -> 1-Close eyes -> 1-"Shhh" -> 1-Keep your eyes -> 1-Uh... is this? (gain thought) -> END
21. Internalize Remote Viewers Division.
22. Part 9 FINISHED
23. Total Exp: 273
24. Skills+1=7: +1 Encyclopedia
25. Thoughts+1=7 (9/9): Remote Viewers Division
26. Total Money: $39+
27. Time: 11:10 pm (day 3)
28. Necktie didn't talk.

​
PART 10: GATHERING ITEMS & XP

1. You should have 273xp. Buy +1 Conceptualization.
2. Total: 173xp
3. Equip RCM Commander's Jacket
4. Talk: Cunoesse >> 1-Take one step -> 1-"Listen, child" -> END (+1 Cuno empathy whitecheck)
5. Search: Pile of Ethernite - Near Cuno >> Perception whitecheck: 42% [fail; 10xp] -> 1-What feeling? -> 1-What is this? (10xp) -> [Leave]
6. Talk: Cuno >> 2-"I have more" -> 3-"Cuno" -> 4-Don't I have? (5xp) -> 1-"Kim, I think" -> 2-"So you say" -> 1-"The dead man'" -> 1-"I need" -> 2-"Alright, entertain" (10xp) -> 3-"I might... pants" -> 4-"I might... later" -> 3-"I gotta ask" -> 1-"Cuno?" -> 2-"Just answer" -> 6-Don't punch -> 1-"No!" [10xp] -> 1-"Nice pipo" -> [Leave]; quicksave
7. Talk: Cuno >> Empathy whitecheck: 17% [success] -> 1-Interesting. How? -> 2-(Act on it) -> 2-"What's up?" -> 1-"What do you?" -> 2-"You serious?" (10xp) -> 1-"C'mon" -> 2-"Cuno..." -> 3-"You think?" (5xp)-> 4-"You said... insane?" -> 2-"What's the real?" -> 5-"What's that language?" (10xp; ency 12) -> 2-"Cuno could she?" (5xp) -> 6-"Is she?" -> 1-"That hallway?" (5xp) -> 7-(Conclude) -> 2-"You need backup" -> 1-"Understood" (5xp) -> 3-[Cost: $15.00] Buy FALN (10xp) -> [Leave]
   1. Note: The 17% Empathy whitecheck is the hardest one to pass in this entire walkthrough. You can raise the odds by hitting Cuno, or wearing Jamrock Sunnies, but each act costs 10xp. The Mesque Red Brogues raise empathy*, but getting them may mess up other stuff.
   2. NOTE: I'll look into it, a 17% is abysmal, even with savescumming.
8. Equip FALN pants, and oversized superstar glasses (+1 savoir faire). \RVD 14%**
9. Go to Frittte.
10. Search: Knick-Knacks Stand >> Savoir Faire redcheck: 58% [success] -> [Leave]
11. Equip mega lenses, raincoat, and prybar.
12. Search: Hanged Man >> Endurance Whitecheck: 58% [success; 10xp] -> 2-Step closer -> 1-Inspect boots -> 1-"These aren't just" (10xp) -> 1-Forget about -> 1-"What happened?" -> 1-Why? -> 2-"Maybe he was?" (5xp) -> 2-"He could have" -> 2-"The material" (10xp) -> 1-"Wait" -> 3-"Sounds puny" -> 3-"How could?" -> 2-"These look" -> 4-Knock on boot -> 1-Swing prybar (10xp) -> 1-What does this? (5xp) -> 1-"E50.100.1000" -> 5-Pull boot -> 1-Grab boot -> 1-"What?" -> 2-"Do what?" -> 3-"Are we not?" -> 1-(Accept) -> 1-"What's going to?" -> 5-(Back off) -> [Leave]
13. Equip RCM jacket. \RVD 20%**
14. Talk: Cuno >> 1-"The body" -> 1-"Where's rest?" -> 1-"How come?" -> 2-"What do you?" -> 3-"You threw?" -> 4-"Who do you?" -> 4-"More on this" -> [Leave]
15. Talk: Manana >> 2-"Cuno told me" -> 1-"So Cuno?" -> 2-"The probe" -> 3-"What sort?" -> 1-"Hold up. Four?" -> 2-"I'm ambitious" -> 4-"Thank you" -> [Leave]
16. Talk: Cindy >> 3-"Do you know?" -> 5-"So you won't?" -> 1-"Isn't armour... Art?" -> [Leave]
17. Talk: Little Lily >> 1-"I heard" -> [Leave]
18. Search: Sandcastle >> 2-Reach in (30xp) -> END
19. Equip T-500 Gauntlets (+2 interfacing).
20. Think: Visual Calculus -blue orb >> 1-I will be -> 1-One down -> END
21. Note: You now have the maximum amount of clothing bonus. You can switch out clothing, to change which skills get a boost, but nothing will give a bigger net benefit than what you currently have on.
22. Search: Pile of Ethernite - Near Cuno>> Perception whitecheck: 97% [succeed] [5xp]-> END
23. There are now 2 two areas that haven't been properly explored, so now is the time. I prefer having 6 perception when exploring, but 5 is also fine. 354xp/$39 \RVD 29%**
24. Equip Amphibian Sports Visor, and prybar (just making sure it's still there).
25. Exploring Cuno's shack, and related area.
26. Think: Electrochemistry -inside Cuno's shack >> 1-"Someone has" -> END
27. When the area is fully explored, click on your RCM cloak.
28. Search: Policeman Cloak >> 1-"You son of a" -> 1-Look around -> 1- "Kvalsund 10-20" -> 2-"What exactly?" -> 3-"Do you really?" (10xp) -> [Leave]; quicksave
29. If you want, equip Oversized superstar glasses (+1 savoir; -1 visual), and sented scarf (+1 shivers -2 physical).
30. Search: Policeman Cloak >> Savoir Faire whitecheck: 58% [succeed] -> 1-Close your eyes -> 2-Don't let -> 3- Continue voyage -> END (no xp for the jump. Opening the area up before jumping seems to negate this xp)
31. Take RCM cloak.
32. Equip Mega-Bino Lenses and Bow Knot.
33. Equip flashlight and prybar.
34. Search Doom Area. Get all money/items, including the shot put ball, but immediately leave any searches, unless stated otherwise.
35. Search: Frequency Fireplace -beside the basement door (10xp) >> [Leave]
36. Search: Mainframe >> 1-> Do you think? -> 2-Turn on -> 1-Look inside -> 2-Insert PRODUCTION [5xp] -> 3-Press PLAY -> 1-"What's production?" -> 1-"You mean" -> 2-"I don't know" -> 1-"A password?" (10xp) -> 2-"Is it my" -> 3-"This is police" -> 4-"I don't know" -> 2-"Why did you?" (5+10xp) -> 1-"Wow" -> 3-"What are you? -> 1-"Yvonne" -> 2-"Doesn't it get" -> 4-"That's all" -> 4-Press PRINT -> 2-Remove PRODUCTION -> [Leave]
37. Search: Breaker Box >> 2-Unplug black -> 3-"I don't know" -> [Leave]
38. Leave through the basement door. You can now use this door to get in the building.
39. The new areas are fully explored.
40. Equip FALN Pipo.
41. Talk: Rene >> 1-"I found" -> 1-"Exactly" [10xp] -> [Leave]
42. Interact: RCM Badge (10xp) >> 1-Study badge -> 1-Look (10xp) -> 2-"Name:" (5xp) -> 1-"Strange" -> 1- "Wait" (10xp) -> 2-(Accept it) -> 3-"Rank:" -> 1-"What's a (10xp) -> 1-"Wait -- satellite?" -> 1-"So you've been" (5xp) -> 1-"Thanks" -> 3-Turn back -> 4-"Serial:" -> 5-"Date of issue:" -> 6-"Precinct:" (10xp) -> [Leave] \RVD 45%;*
43. Part 10 FINISHED
44. Total Exp: 506
45. Skills+1=7: +1 Conceptualization
46. Thoughts+0=7 (9/9): N/A
47. Total Money: $55+
48. Time: 13:38 pm (day 3)
49. Necktie didn't talk.

​
PART 11-1: INTERNALIZING REMOTE VIEWERS DIVISION (39%)

1. You should have 506xp. Buy +2 Conceptualization and +2 Encyclopedia.
2. You now have 106xp. You need another 600xp to get all remainting skills to pass medium checks (500xp, if you wear the bow tie).
3. Equip Amphibian Sports Visor.
4. Search: Hanged Man >> 2-Inspect belt (10xp) -> 1-"Apparently"" (5xp) -> 1-"We're assuming" -> 3-"My past has" 2-"They sure wanted" -> 3-"How did they?" (5xp) -> 4-(Back off) -> 3-Inspect tattoos -> 2-It will.... Disco > 1-"Is this a map?" (10xp) -> 1-"What's that?" (10xp) -> 1-"Cool machine" -> 2-Say nothing (get photo) -> 4-Look him -> 1-His eyes... blue (5+10xp) -> (Back off) -> 5-Squint -> 1-"His face" -> 1-"I think... dead" (10xp) -> 5-"Deadady-dead-dead" -> 2-"I think... after death" -> 2-"Could it?" -> 3-(Cover nose) -> 1-"We got lucky" -> 4-"He's beaten up" -> 5-(back off) -> [Leave]; quicksave
5. Search: Hanged Man >> Inland Empire whitecheck: 92% [Success] -> 1-Where? -> 2-I can see -> 1-There's nothing -> 3- What is happening? -> 1-I'm talking -> 4-Why do I? -> 3-Give me a comical -> 5-Is my name? -> 2-Roonie is not -> 6-Why do I feel -> 7-Who killed you? -> 8-Can you ask? -> 3-Maybe this will (5xp) -> 9-I hate you (10xp)-> 2-Myself -> 10-Enough -> 6-"So, how?" -> 2-(proceed) (70xp) -> 7-"I'm out of ideas" -> [Leave] \RVD 56%**
6. Equip FALN Pipo.
7. Talk: Cuno >> 1-"I talked" (10xp) -> 1-"He told.. 'sic the pigs" -> 1-"Yes" -> 1-"I want... body" -> 1-"Do you... who he was?" -> 1-"You could've" -> 2-"Do you... up there?" (10xp) -> 2-"Where is?" -> 3-"Have you seen?" -> 4-"There are contusions" -> 1-"A contusion is" -> 5-"More on this" -> 3-"Cuno, I found" -> 1-What was... Pighead?" -> 3-"Cool pig-head" (5+10xp) -> 2-"I found plate" -> 2-"What was with" -> 1-"It's magnesium -> 2-"C'mon" -> 3-"I've heard enough" -> 2-"I have more" -> 1-"There was also a mug" -> 1-"Yes" (5xp) -> 2-"The ladder" (5xp) -> 3-"I might have" -> [Leave]
8. Alright, going back to Joyce to get previously missed checks, and do new stuff. This is going to be a LOONG conversation.
9. Talk: Joyce >> 2-"Lets talk... boat" -> 1-"Not a lot" -> 1-"Wait, we're on?" (10xp) -> 1-"Wait, I thought" (5xp) -> 2-"Still. I haven't" -> 1-Yes -> 1-"Lets talk... economics" -> 1-"Yes" -> Reaction Speed redcheck: 72% [success] -> 3-"There doesn't seem" [5xp] -> 4-"Do you have?" -> 1-"Can I see?" -> 2-"Still need to see" -> 1-"I'm pretty sure" (10xp) -> 1-The what? -> 3-"So we can't?" -> 1-"Yes" -> 1-Look at passport (10xp) -> 1-Anything else? -> 4-"Everything appears" -> 5-(Conclude) -> 3-"Tell me about" -> 1-"So what do?" (10xp) -> 4-"Got it" -> 5-(Show her badge) [5xp] -> 2-"Fair, I guess" -> 6-"I've got some" -> 1-"Where are we?" -> 2-"Mhm" -> 2-"You mentioned" (10xp) -> 5-"Tell me about" -> 8-(Conclude) -> [Leave]
   1. Note: That should be all the previously missed passives. \RVD 67%**
10. Talk: Joyce >> 6-"I've got some" -> 2-"What times?" -> 1-"Too late for?" -> 1-"You got a" -> 1-"Would you say... apes?" -> 2-"Okay -- Neutral" (5xp) -> 2-"Who got shot?" (10xp) -> 1-"You could say" -> 1-"Truly a kerfuffle" -> 1-"Smart king" -> 3-"Who... mineral rights?" -> 1-"Okay" -> 1-"Wait. You just" (10xp) -> 3-"If always picking" -> 4-"When... kerfuffle?" -> 1-"What did?" -> 1-"Wow, really?" (10xp) -> 1-"Our lives" -> 1-"What is Zone?" -> 1-"Wait... 43 years?" -> 1-"What have we?" (5+70xp) -> 7-"That's enough" -> 8-"All for now" -> [Leave]
11. Note: Just taking a break to save progress. \RVD 74%**
12. Talk: Joyce >> 6-"I've got some" -> 3-"What is acute?" -> 1-"I know" -> 1-"What causes" -> 2-"It's definately drinking" -> 5-"What are you?" -> 6-"What is this?" -> 3-"I meant... place" (5xp) -> 7-"What is that? -> 1-"Yes" -> 2-"I understand" [5+10xp] -> 1-"I think" -> 3-"I don't know" -> 1-"The New?" -> 1-"Sounds fun" [5+10xp] -> 9-(Conclude) -> [Leave]; quicksave
13. Talk: Joyce >> 6-"I've got some" -> Conceptualization whitecheck: 97% [success] -> 1-"What do you?" (10xp; legendary passive) -> 1-"The best" -> 1-"Wait... evil apes?" [10xp] -> 2-"Elysium" -> 1-"I don't feel" -> 1-"How about... ball" [10xp] -> 1-"Oh my god" -> 1-"A fractured" -> 2-"Doesn't sound" [5xp] -> 2-"You said pale" -> 1-"I don't want to" -> 10-(Conclude) -> [Leave]; quicksave
14. Talk: Joyce >> 6-"I got some" -> Volition whitecheck: 83% [success] -> 1-Wait... an isola?" -> 1-"And Insulinde?" -> 1-"Is it... here?" -> 1-"Six thousand" -> 2-"What are" -> 3-"If we're surrounded" -> 4-"The pale can?" -> 1-"Who says?"-> 1-"You're not civilian?" -> 1-"Are you?" -> 5-"What is entroponetic?" -> 6-"How much Pale?" -> 2-"It's growing" -> 3-Stay silent -> 7-(Conclude) -> 3-"I'm getting a sense" -> 2-"You were right" -> 3-"Yes" [30xp] -> 2-"That was f-ing insane" -> 1-"Right" -> END \RVD 88%**
15. Talk: Trant >> 1-"I want... Field" -> 3-"What did... tape computers?" [10xp] -> 4-"How do tape computers work?" (10xp) -> 2-"Okay, back to" -> 5-"I wanted to" -> 2-"You look like" -> 1-"Could I have?" -> 3-"By the way" (10xp) -> 1-"A form of" -> 2-"I'm not really" -> 1-"Hold on" -> [Leave]
16. Talk: Washerwoman [10xp] >> 1-"If you can't" -> 1-"Lean forward" -> 1-"What he said" -> 1-"Wait I've been?" [10xp] -> 2-"What kind?" -> 3-"I am ill omen" (3/4 Apocalypse cop) -> 1-"Where could... stay?" -> 1-"How much?" -> 1-"Wait, hold on" -> 1-"I'm not sure" (5/5 honor cop) -> 1-"Wait, why?" -> 1-"One more time" -> 4-"Unfortunate" -> 1-"You got yourself" -> [Leave]
17. Half Light -Red orb >> What time? -> 2-Ta ola? -> 3-Wait, wait -> 4-This is because -> 1-Am I sure? -> 2-I'm... afraid -> OPT IN OR OPT OUT.
18. Search: Shack Door >> 1-Unlock -> END
19. Enter shack.
20. Click all the orbs.
21. Quick save and reload to get the purple orb around your head again.
22. Think: Authority -purple orb >> To become an honor cop, Harry must do something humiliating. Good thing Kim can't come in this shack though. Choose whatever, and then OPT IN OR OPT OUT*. *RVD 97%; 729**
23. Talk: Washerwoman >> 4-"I found this" -> 1-"Yea, I'll wait" (get FALN Windbreaker) -> [Leave]
24. Click white orb. Remote Viewers Division is now internalized.
25. Part 11 FINISHED
26. Total Exp: 633
27. Skills+4=11: +2 Conceptualization; +2 Encyclopedia
28. Thoughts+0=7 (9/9): No new thoughts
29. Total Money: $90+
30. Time: 16:50 pm (day 3)
31. Necktie didn't talk.

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PART 11-2: SHOOTING THE CORPSE

1. Search: FALN Sneakers on a Pedestal of Speakers >> 1-Inspect sneakers (10xp) -> 2-Inspect speakers -> 3-"Poor... speakers" (10xp) -> 3-"Can't I just?" -> 2-"That's why" -> 1-"You don't know" -> 4-[Cost: $50.00] Sneakers -> 3-[Cost: $0.50] Speakers -> [Leave]
2. Equip FALN sneakers (+1 hand/eye)
3. Search: The Hanged Man >> 6-We need to talk -> 5-"Maybe... shoot him?" -> 1-(Point to it) -> 4-Say nothing -> 3-Say nothing -> 4-(Conclude) -> 5-"Can I have?" -> 2-Point gun -> 3-Close left eye (+2 whitecheck) -> 2-Hand/Eye redcheck: 58% [success] -> 1-Who killed? [5+70xp] -> 2-"RCM baby!" [10xp] -> 2-Slap and wait -> 3-"What now?" -> 1-"Wait" -> 1-"Don't we?" [5xp] -> 1-"Honorary rank?" -> 2-"All right" -> 1-"Is this famous?" -> END
4. You should have 753xp. Buy +2 Drama, +1 suggestion, +1 Endurance, +1 Electrochemestry, +1 shivers, and +1 composure.
5. Equip ledger of Oblivian for +1 Suggestion/Authority; -1 Inland Empire.
6. Total: 53xp.
7. Part 11 FINISHED
8. Total Exp: 633
9. Skills+7=18: +2 Drama, +1 suggestion, +1 Endurance, +1 Electrochemestry, +1 shivers, and +1 composure.
10. Thoughts+0=7 (9/9): No new thoughts
11. Total Money: $45+
12. Time: 17:19 pm (day 3)
13. Necktie didn't talk.

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Spent 24 points in total. 7 points on thoughts, and 17 on skills (plus the initial skill).
Most skills are a minimum of 4 points, with Conceptualization/Encyclopedia at 8. Suggestion is at 3 points, but Remote viewers lower the difficulty of passives by -1, so they are equivalent to 4 points.
You have gotten the option for every political thought, and every cop-type, except boring cop, you have all the best clothing gear, you got your shack to live in rent free. You have everything you need continue playing. No one needs to hold your hand anymore.
​
That said, I do have some more general advice. Originally, I was doing the complete guide for the church plot, but it turns out that I didn't need to do that. Still, it is a good choice for doing next, as it has 2 great skills (Hardcore Aesthetic, and Cleaning the Rooms), but feel free to pick other thoughts instead, such as something related to your politics/cop-o-type. The final slot should be for Date of Birth Generator, which lowers the difficulty of PHY skills by -1, but that is more of a late game thought, so I don't think it's best to rush for it.
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??. CLEANING OUT THE ROOMS
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1. Egg Head >> 1-Say nothing *5 -> 2-"No," -> 1-"Just answer" -> END
2. Egg Head >> 1-Say nothing *5 -> 1-Worried it isn't" -> 1-"SO HARD CORE" -> 1-"IT IS" -> 1- "THE QUESTION" (10xp; solved riddle) -> 1-"You said" (10xp) -> 4-"It's proto" -> 2-"Try... harder core?" -> 1-Think harder (endurance 10; gives +1 whitecheck? ) -> 1-Feel movement -> 2-"My imagination" -> 4-"I can't help" -> 2-"Are you thought?" -> 1-"Does that mean?" -> 1-"You're right" -> 2-"So you're" -> 3-"Best not" -> 2-"Don't be a" (5xp) -> 4-"Tell me" -> 2-"Almost there" -> 4-"Why are lungs?" -> 1-"Why would lungs?" (10xp) -> 2-"Oh yeah" -> 3-"Well. The lungs" -> Leave
3. Talk to Egg Head >> Physical Instrument Whitecheck: 72% [was 58%. I think beat of heart is new; succeed] -> "I don't know" -> 1-(take task) -> 2-"Rue to Saint-Chislaine" (shivers 10?) -> Shake it off -> [leave]
4. Talk to Andre (10xp) >> Shake hand -> 1-"Wait, how many?" -> 1-"There's no" -> 2-"I feel like" -> 1-"What exactly" -> (take task) ->
   1. "Status of church?" -> "Key?" -> Reaction Speed Redcheck: 72% [I don't think it matters? Assume success] -> (play it cool) -> "How long locked in there?" -> "Starved to death?" (10xp) -> "Involuntary manslaughter?" -> "Sounds like nonsense" -> "Stop buttering me up" -> (conclude; closes this line) ->
   2. "People inside church" -> "You haven't seen them?" -> "Watching you?" -> "Crab-Man?" (10xp) -> "Ambush behavior" -> "Machinery?" -> ""*Snuff station*?" -> "How can be sure if you haven't seen them?" -> "Wow! You can't" -> Something else ->
   3. "Who are Ecclesiastes?" -> "Mean by *Meteoran*?" -> "Meteo?" (10xp) -> (mask it) -> "And" -> "Would religion want dance club?" -> Enjoy the beat" -> "What's a posse?" (5xp) -> "You're right! (proceed) ->
   4. "Tent full of equipment" -> "Reeks of sweat" -> "Also smell ether (5xp) -> "Mixed with detergent..." (10xp) -> "*Nosaphed*?" -> (point to nasal spray) -> "You sound fine" -> "Can I have some?" (whitecheck opens) -> [leave] -> END
5. Talk to Noid >> "Tell me about machines in church" (10xp) -> (proceed) -> "Why called Noid?" (new task) -> [leave]
6. Search Church Doors >> Closer look at padlock -> Look at sticker (10xp) -> (point to it) -> "What is suggestive?" -> "I agree" -> Interfacing whitecheck: 92% (if fail, "My hands are wet" +2 to whitecheck, try it again) -> Place on ledger (10+10xp; secret task) -> Open padlock with key.
7. Time to explore the church.
8. NOTE: I recommend not clicking on the stained glass image. There is some good exp to gain from doing so, but it's one of two actions (the other is "The Greatest Innocence" book) that will cause Harry to suffer a nightmare around the endgame. That dream is one of the most depressing game experiences I've ever experienced, and I refuse to trigger it again.
9. Perception - Around the center >> Choices don't really matter, not even the Perception redcheck. Gain 10xp and meet Tiago.
10. Talk to Taigo >> "Crab-man?" (10xp) -> "Place for what?" -> "Bit of a problem" -> "In touch with suffering" -> "Have a point" -> "Are you crab man?" -> Not moving like a human? (1/4 apocolypse cop) -> "Portent of doom (2/4 apocolypse cop; 5xp) -> "Harrier Du Bois" ->
11. "You doing here" -> "Doing in church" -> "Sing for me" (10xp) -> "Other questions" (that seems to be the important stuff) -> [leave]
12. Necktie talked back to Taigo, even though not equipped.
13. Search Mainframe >> "What is strange thing?" (10xp) -> (step behind computer) -> Look inside -> Press play -> "Personal log?" -> "Glowing that said "LOG (FEB-MAR)? -> "I don't know" -> "Is it my birthday?" (10xp) -> "Don't know" -> (Press OFF/SILENT) -> [leave]
14. Talk to Taigo >> "Other spooker" -> "Heard the password for the raidiocoputer?" -> "Break in, see what's on it [5xp]-> [leave; Tiago dissapears]
15. ​
16. Search Mainframe (Missed out on 5xp by not doing other one first) >> Press play again -> "Got right password" -> "Life after death" [5xp] -> What is Fortress Accident?" (10xp) -> "So conceptual" -> (Press OFF/SILENT) -> Press PRINT -> Read printout -> Read second entry -> (look around building) -> "Why antenna?" -> "Data loss?" -> Read fifth entry -> "What could it be? -> Read eight entry -> "Describing Acele" -> "Access Coalition military datalinks" -> "Yes I could" -> END
17. Talk to Soona >> "Who are you?" -> Why so many machines?" -> "Why need antenna?" -> "I don't know, to be honest" -> "What's on air? (10xp) -> "Next question..." -> What you doing in church?" -> "Need to know what you are doing here" -> "Hole in world..." (logic challenging fail) -> "Can't understand, let alone measure it" (10xp) -> (conclude) -> Feel about music? (10xp) -> "Have you actually listened?" -> "Establish dance music" -> [leave]
18. Talk to Andre >> "Checked out church -> "Talked to crab man" -> "Very spiritual" -> "Preaching and praying" -> "Who am I to evict such a person?" -> "Gonna have to live with him" -> "Soona appeared" -> "Said you haven't been honest" -> "Not feeling it" -> "Did not like the idea" -> "I *won't* evict her -> "Despises it" -> (Procceed with quest) -> [leave]
19. Talk to Andre >> Logic whitecheck: 42% [savescum to succeed] -> "Gather around kids" -> "Things don't add up" ->
20. This is actually a MASSIVE chain of events you need to get.

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SOME OTHER STUFF
Can get another 5xp if you search the DOOM mainframe first.
Unplug the icecream machine, get the note from the bear fridge
Can give Cuno a book if dominated by Cuno.
Basking on glory after catching key from hardrock kids, makes inland say Tequila Sunset. Maybe would trigger Concept name? This playthrough I did the Cousteau name.
Shooting corpse: volition 11, and visual calculus 10 gives bonus to shooting corpse. Interfacing 5 gets Aces Low. Buying FALN sneakers gives a +1 Hand/Eye.
Autopsy: Visual 10 age 42 (no checks at 11), Physical instrument 12 corrects height etimate, interfacting 11 feels something wrong in skull? and bonus to cut, physical 12 no clawing around neck,Success:Fridge: 5 + 30+ 10+ 10+ 5+ ++10+10+5+30+Superstar: Has a passive check. You accept thought without it saying you accept it. Which threw me off, cause I thought I was just getting more dialogue.
Rene (the old soldier): Dies on day 5. I thought the date varied...
Task to warn dicemaker: You have to tell Plaisance FIRST, that you cant explain the situation yet. After "failing" of telling her the real truth, you can tell her whats really happened.
Are you waiting, like me, until you found the real reason and telling her, you dont get the dialogue for the dicemaker. So, its really important to tell her first, that you have no idea yet, whats going on there. THEN telling her the truth. My luck, I hade saved before talking to Plaisance. Thats why I can reproduce this bug and I am totally sure, that this is the reason.
Autopsy (useful skills): Visual Calculus (med 4?), Interfacing (med 5), Physical instrument (challenge 6). Perception needed for the big checks.Book Store: Curtains; first option gets concept, wards gets ency option.
Man From (place) whitecheck has a concept passive on success. Board Game section has 1 concept passive. Innocence shelf 1 concept passive. Paranormal books.... the pale book not showing up. Ah, need 4+ inland Island to get the option. Map shelf has impossible passive checks (11+).
Pawn Shop: Streetlight has 2 concepts, Boombox shelf 1 concept, Roy can ger +5 exp for gun talk, passive check has an ency passive
Siieng's Place: FLYN sneakers 1 concept, 1 ency, Siing has an ency check that was previously skipped.Tommy, Cindy.... Got ency too.

“Cora” was only 18 years old when she underwent a suction abortion. She was healthy at the time.
The unknown abortionist tried to use the suction method even though Cora was 25 weeks pregnant. The suction method is unsuitable past the first trimester because the fetal body parts at that size and age cannot all be effectively vacuumed. This can leave decaying body parts behind. In addition, the uterus can be perforated during the vain attempts to remove pieces, potentially leading to internal bleeding, amniotic fluid embolism or air embolism. The abortionist either did not accurately determine gestational age or knew how far along Cora was and used the method anyway.
Cora’s cause of death was listed as amniotic fluid embolism, but the study that documented her death indicates that no autopsy was performed. This is surprising because the sudden death of a healthy teenage girl would typically call for an autopsy, especially under the circumstances of such negligence.
https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/abs/pii/000293789091301R

I just read a post that made a mostly compelling case for Oswald’s guilt. However, it was framed as evidence that Oswald acted alone. I think this is an important distinction that not enough people take seriously - whether Warren Report defenders or critics. In my view, the case for Oswald being the lone gunman is relatively strong. You have to squint and come up with some pretty elaborate theories to explain the locations of second gunmen or of a non-Oswald gunman on the 6th floor of the TSBD.
Nonetheless, Oswald’s biography is spooky as hell. And the argument (made best by Posner, I think) that Oswald was this violent, loner-loser doesn’t prove he acted alone. Especially when you stack Posner’s biography-based argument up against the obvious indications of Oswald’s intelligence connections as well as his movements, whereabouts, and companions in 1963. Not to mention there were demonstrable conspiracies to kill JFK going on all year leading up to his death.
I put a bunch of thoughts together after reading this pro-lone-gunman theory, and I wanted to present some of the most compelling circumstantial evidence of a conspiracy I’ve bumped up against and get any responses from the community, whether from Warren Report defenders or critics.

• First, Oswald’s intelligence connections. CIA’s top mole-hunter Jim Angleton opened a counterintelligence file on Oswald in 1959. Oswald was stationed at a CIA base in Japan before defecting to Russia, and there is no clear explanation of how Oswald came up with the money to travel into Russia via Finland after he quit the Marines. He was also surrounded by intelligence-connected individuals in Dallas. George de Mohrenschildt was told by an intelligence-linked associate to befriend Oswald. Seemingly everyone in Ruth Paine’s family was in the CIA. The FBI was checking Oswald’s whereabouts routinely. In early November, Oswald wrote a note to the FBI agent on his file and threatened to “blow up” the FBI if they wouldn’t leave his wife alone. The FBI destroyed his note. Hoover’s own memos in late 63/early 64 suggest he believed in a conspiracy.
  
• Further links: The address on Oswald’s pamphlets was shared by former FBI agent-turned-private-investigator Guy Bannister. Banister supplied munitions to the Cuban exiles involved in the Bay of Pigs. Banister’s secretary said Oswald was familiar with Banister. Also, from jail following the JFK assassination, Oswald asked to call “John Hurt” in Raleigh, North Carolina - Hurt had been a military intelligence officer.
  
• The most significant of the other conspiracies to kill JFK - the Chicago Plot. There was a bona fide conspiratorial attempt to assassinate JFK in Chicago on November 2, 1963. The secret service received a phone call from a motel manager about suspicious activity in a room rented by two Cuban nationals. One Cuban told a secret service informant about their plan. The FBI then blew the informant’s cover and foiled the investigation. However, one conspirator, a hard right-winger who (like Oswald) served at the U2 base in Japan, Thomas Arthur Vallee, was later arrested. The secret service agent who investigated the Cubans’ motel room was later arrested on bogus fraud charges. Biden actually pardoned him within the last couple years.
  
• Then, there’s Mexico. No matter how you look at Oswald’s trip to Mexico, it’s extremely suspicious. Someone claiming to be Lee Harvey Oswald met with the KGB agent in charge of political assassinations in North America - mere weeks before JFK was killed. The CIA has photographs of the person they purportedly believed had claimed to be Oswald, and it is obviously a different person. Even if this was a mistake in just labeling the wrong photograph, Oswald’s meeting by itself suggests the possibility of a conspiracy - whether with Russians or someone framing the Russians. If the photo was correctly labeled, then we are obviously dealing with a conspiracy.
  
• Direct evidence of Oswald associating with right wing Cuban exiles, and Cuban exiles claiming Oswald wanted to kill Kennedy: Cuban ex-pat Silvia Odio met with two Cuban nationals and a white man named “Leon Oswald” in late September 63. They asked for money to support an anti-Castro militant organization, they said they were about to go on a trip, and they said Oswald was an excellent shot. A couple days later, one of the Cubans called Odio and told her Oswald accused them of cowardice because “Kennedy should have been shot after the Bay of Pigs.”
  
• Warren Report bias. The Warren Commission also had explicit orders to conclude Oswald acted alone. The Katzenbach memo states that nuclear war could occur if they concluded Oswald acted with the Russians. LBJ is on tape saying he believes it was a conspiracy but that they have to conclude Oswald was a lone wolf. The CIA withheld their file on Oswald from the Warren Commission.
  
• One more category: other assorted high weirdness of the inexplicable variety, which has no clear meaning but may drive you nuts. First, the so-called “Jack T Martin film,” which was taken in Summer 1963 and just-so-happens to capture on the same reel both the bullet-hole at General Walker’s house in Dallas and Lee Harvey Oswald’s fight with Cubans in New Orleans. Supposedly this was a home movie that a high school-age John Birch supporter took on his family’s summer vacation from Minnesota to Dallas to New Orleans. This tends to show pre-JFK assassination knowledge of Oswald’s attempt on Walker (or of foreknowledge of a plot to frame Oswald for the Walker attempt?). Then you’ve got Edwin Walker being interviewed by a nazi-friendly German newspaper a couple of days after JFK was killed. This article reported that Oswald attempted to kill Walker in April before the FBI suspected his involvement. FBI only connected Oswald to the Walker attempt after later obtaining a note Oswald supposedly wrote to Marina with instructions if he was captured that night. Did the German paper link Oswald to the Walker killing through their interview with Walker himself? Not clear. But this tends to show someone knew about it or was trying to frame him.
  
• I’d also put everything related to Jack Ruby in this “high weirdness” category. From the mere fact that he killed Oswald at all to his supposed presence at Parkland Hospital when JFK was shot, to his bizarre photographing of “Impeach Earl Warren” billboards in the days leading up to 11/22/63, to his hinting during his Warren Report testimony that there was more to his story and he wanted Chief Justice Warren to get him out of Dallas so he could explain, to the fact that he was treated by a psychiatrist involved with MK Ultra while in prison.
  
• Last in this weirdness category, I’d place the Warren Reynolds story. A witness who followed the shooter escaping Tippit’s murder. Initially couldn’t ID the shooter as Oswald to the FBI. Shot two days after FBI interview in his business’s basement. Recovers miraculously. Then he’s contacted by Edwin Walker of all people. Then he changes his tune and IDs Oswald. And (this is a doozy), the person initially arrested for shooting Reynolds was released when one of Jack Ruby’s dancers provided an alibi. The dancer herself was arrested soon thereafter and killed herself in jail.
  
• There is of course other minutia revolving around the rifle, the autopsy, the backyard photos, the bullet casings at the Tippit scene, the timing of Oswald supposedly leaving the 6th floor, conflicting Dealey Plaza witness reports, etc…
  
• But in the end, I don’t think you even have to get into all the assorted “high weirdness” or the “minutia” of the scenes at Dealey Plaza and the Tippit shooting. Some of it is very likely meaningless, some of it is interesting (particularly the Martin film, in my opinion). Regardless, in my view, there are enough connections between Oswald and various potential conspirators to say that, even if Oswald was the only shooter, it is nonetheless quite plausible and reasonable to suspect others were involved in the plot and that there is more to the story.
  

I want to start out by saying I’m not a cop, I’m not a park ranger, I’m not some bigfoot hunter that would just run off into the woods for nothing. I don’t live in a farmhouse with a shotgun under my bed for the coyote sounds some people just decide are skinwalkers.
I’ve been hiking for as long as I could walk. My dad taught me what specific birds looked like, and then what they sounded like. Even now, there’s a shelf five feet high in my living room stocked with nature books. I knew the differences between local species of woodpeckers before I was eight.
I’ve been a wildlife researcher in Wyoming for… maybe seven years now? I’m a young guy, kind of baby faced, so I get odd looks a lot when I’m out with all the equipment. It’s rural here. Mostly livestock. Quiet, apart from when everyone drives up to Cheyenne for the rodeo every year. I can’t go anymore, saw a horse break its leg during the “wild” horse race and I never really got over it.
Sorry, I… am kind of distracted. I had to fill up jerrycans for my truck the other day, and my mind is so all over the place even the station’s cashier noticed.
It feels really far away, what happened to me. Five days ago. I went into a private swathe of forest on the edge of a lake, all owned by some group of enterprising millionaires wanting to build some of those stupid cabins you see on TV with the marble counters despite the “rustic” goal. Distracted again. Anyway, I was out there because they found six dead elk within one week.
One week. This property is big, but it’s not that big. There are wolves in Yellowstone— not here, and they obviously wanted to know if there was some big fuckoff bear starting to kill for sport. Some of the rich hunters that rented weeks during the season would be angry, too, if bulls they’d been following on trail cams got eaten before they could be stuck up above the fireplace.
The first carcass they marked was 3/4 of a mile in. I’m an alright navigator, sometimes have trouble getting places but I’m good at following markers on my way out. I’m pretty visual. It was late morning, maybe ten. I wasn’t going to be an idiot and let it get dark.
The first body told me it wasn’t a bear. I didn’t know what my opinion really was yet, or if I ever had one. I don’t know if you’ve ever seen an elk, or someone posing with a dead one, but they’re… big.
This one had an almost cartoonish impact imprint in the pine needles, like those craters asteroids leave in movies. Like it’d been tossed diagonally toward the ground really hard.
It was a cow, on her side, split from where her jawbone ended at her neck all the way down. Between both front legs, down her gut, stopping after her back legs. I noticed almost immediately when (what do you do? You know. Examine, poke it with a stick) I put my gloves on and took a closer look that whatever it was had almost cleaved her in half, maybe six inches to spare. The cut was sharp, I’ve never seen anything like it. Right through her sternum the smoothest I’d seen anything like that. With the shoulder-high gloves on I examined her internally, propping the upper of her front legs up. Her heart and her liver were missing.
It scared me. I think I was trying to rationalize it. I got there and saw her, no blood on the ground, with two missing organs, and guts all neatly in place like they’d been put back when…
Yeah. I just told myself it was poachers. When I got to the second carcass, a bull elk, it started to change my mind.
I don’t know if you’ve ever been around something decaying or had a mouse die in your house. It doesn’t take a lot of flesh to make something stink, you can empty your pool filter too close to the house and still smell the bugs.
Neither of them stunk. At all. At the bull I noticed what I hadn’t at the cow. There were no flies. His liver was missing like hers, and though I had trouble leveraging his leg up and got kind of frustrated I found his heart was missing too. The injuries were the same.
Dead, stone cold dead. I’ve been around a lot of animals that have died in some way or another. Nothing had ever chilled me to my goddamn bones like this did.
I was on the way to the third one when I was attacked. I never got to see the third one or the remaining three, because I ended up having to drive to the clinic after. I’m going to try to give this as much detail as I fucking can remember, because I swear I’m not crazy.
There were these two rocks with a hiking trail between, the path worn by both animals and people. The rocks went up maybe ten feet on either side, each about the width of how my truck is long with a couple feet between them and the path. I remember thinking I needed to try spikes for my boots because the pine needles this time of year got pretty slippery in places where they were thick.
I didn’t hear anything really notable. I crushed a pinecone under my boot, and then it was on me.
It looked like something I’d imagine would crawl out of a cave, in the body. Slim. Bipedal, but with digitigrade hind legs. It came out of nowhere, and it was so quiet.
You’re going to ask me how I even noticed all of that— and it’s because it jumped down from the rocks to land in front of me. I was almost out, and there was a lot of ground behind me to cover. One step back, and it pushed its back foot at me. Not all that fast, not a blow, just the way someone would reach for a handshake. It had hooves, and I smelled burnt hair.
I remember now those videos from that martial arts style where you can do “one inch punches” and… yeah.
It felt like a car hit me in the chest. Like I’d taken a hit from a bighorn ram. It crushed the breath out of me and I flew backward. The forest floor broke my fall, and by the time I gasped in air and focused it was staring me directly in the eyes.
Its skin wasn’t white. Not really. Translucent. I could see its veins and arteries, pulsing beneath, in the rhythm of a heartbeat pushing so quickly. It was maybe shock, maybe fear that kept me still with it down on all fours like that. I don’t think it was breathing. We were so close that I could see the blood vessels in its eyes.
It was larger than me, larger than an elk. Moose sized. As big as a fucking full-size van. Its head was a foot wide, maybe more, gaunt and shaped like a bison skull. The skin was stretched over it so tight it looked like it’d rip, its nostrils long slits that went maybe halfway up its head. The eyes that looked into mine were large, with no fleshy eyelid— and when it finally blinked two clear lids came in from the outer edges of its eyes. Its scleras, besides the blood vessels (red, like us) were so white. Everything’s got a little color in its eyes, but this was the whitest white I’d ever seen. There wasn’t an iris— and its pupil was just… clear. Like when they take a photo of the back of your eye at the eye doctor. It felt like I was seeing the inside of its skull and it—
Fuck. Sorry. I’m trying to be rational and not get all shivery and supernatural with it.
It just stared. I’d worked with dogs when I started my career with animals. It was instinct, maybe… wanting it to be done quick or trying to calm it like I’d talk to dogs with my body language. I tilted my head up and to the side, went limp, closed my eyes.
It felt like two hours before it moved. It probably was five minutes.
I opened my eyes when I heard it rustle, but didn’t move. It brought up its front foot arm I guess, stood up a little higher, and that’s when I understood.
It looked like it had fucking scythes on its hands. A palm shaped like ours, one finger joint, then these claws a foot long. three of them and a thumb that had no claw at all. I thought I almost knew it’d cut me in fucking half and I’d be gone, but it moved so slow. It brought that hand up, took one of its four fingers and dragged that claw down from my collarbone.
I was wearing a canvas coat, with a sweatshirt, and thermals underneath. It started to split me. I moved my head, like watching a car crash, as it sliced through all of my clothing and down into my skin like air. Not like butter, like air. it cut maybe a half-inch into me. Adrenaline is a fucking drug, I’ll tell you that. It stopped two inches below my belly button, and then it turned and started to walk away like nothing had happened at all.
Just moseying, as I sat up a little and started to really feel it. It’d turned away from me, stood up tall. The horns it had reminded me of five pronghorns spliced, not quite antlers, and now I saw it had floppy bald ears like a pig. I could see where every vertebrae in its body pushed up against the skin, the definition of every muscle like a shaved horse on every steroid. With its skin that clear, it almost blended and reflected the colors around it. I laid there and watched it go until I couldn’t see it anymore, toward the lake. I think I heard a boat motor.
I didn’t even care. When managed to get on my feet I fucking ran. There was paracord in my truck, and I put my jacket on backwards and tied it around me to put on some pressure while I drove to the tiny medical clinic. My brain gets a little spotty right before that.
Quiet town, nobody kicked by a horse today, so I got in and the doctor (Jen, I’ve known her since I moved here. Older lady) got to me immediately.
I remember that she took the jacket off and went kind of pale, looking at…
There wasn’t any blood. I could see my flesh split perfectly down the middle. In the mirror on the wall above the sink in the exam room I saw how well it was centered between the bumps of my collarbones.
She told me they’d bandage it, and I just basically sat there in some kind of shock and let them move me around. I don’t even remember the drive there, or home. It reminded me of autopsy cuts in TV shows with two less lines, and higher.
Jen’s an old soul. Her family’s been in this state longer than any I can think of. She’s thirty but greying at the temples. Down-to-earth. She’s sweet, and very logical, and is tired as hell of telling people bigfoot doesn’t live out here when they find out she’s a local and ask.
It terrified me when in that empty waiting room, escorting me out, she told me in a low voice that I’d better go out see the Joneses, because their livestock guardian dog had died. She had this look on her face when she said it, patting my back, and just said “Mhm. A bear.”
It reminded me of that tone someone uses when someone else says something they don’t believe. Patronizing. “Ohh, it was a bear. Sure.” just like that. I wanted to throw up.
I don’t know if she knew. I just left. I feel like I’m being pulled into something terrifying. I’ve been looking at apartments in Portland all night. I’ve been trying to draw the thing like I used to with animals back home but I just can’t get it right. I feel like Jen is trying to get me to look into this. I barely know her, but she looked at me like she knew everything about me.
Help, I guess? What do I do?

Are you new to our community or do you want to rewatch an episode?
Here are all of them (Updated weekly):
Ep.1 Why 8 Passengers & Family Channels are AWFUL
Ep.2 Was ACEFEST Really a SCAM?
Ep.3 Addison Rae's Cringey Dad & David Dobrik's Legal Trouble
Ep.4 WTF is Pink Sauce? + Reacting to Your Hate Comments
Ep.5 The WEIRD Downfall Of Def Noodles
Ep.6 Def Noodles UNFOLLOWS Us + Addison Rae's DAD vs Yung Gravy
Ep.7 Andrew Tate is THE WORST + Our Most Embarrassing Stories
Ep.8 Our HONEST Reaction to the DEF NOODLES ROAST
Ep.9 Catherine McBroom Goes TOO FAR & Monty Lopez Is (Still) A Clout Goblin
Ep.10 Sheri & Yung Gravy VMA PDA + Def Noodles vs Kavos CRINGE
Ep.11 Our Reaction to the SECOND Def Noodles Roast Battle
Ep.12 Lea Michele Can't Read? + Don't Worry Darling FULL BREAKDOWN
Ep.13 Ray J EXPOSES Kim Kardashian Contract!? + Don't Worry Darling UPDATE
Ep.14 Adam Levine CHEATS w/ IG Model + Taylor Holder Allegations
Ep.15 The TRY GUYS Cheating Scandal Explained
Ep.16 Try Guys Update + Ned Exposed AGAIN?
Ep.17 Todrick Hall Exposed By Former Employees + TwitchCon Foam Pit Disaster
Ep.18 Olivia Wilde's SPECIAL Salad Dressing + INSANE Pink Sauce Update
Ep.19 Travis Scott CHEATING Timeline?! Ned Fulmer Exposed AGAIN (HALLOWEEN)
Ep.20 The END of Twitter + ANOTHER Pink Sauce UPDATE
Ep.21 Def Noodles ROASTED & BLOCKED Us ft. Nick DiRamio + This Nikita Dragun Situation is NOT OK
Ep.22 Influencer Exposed By Voice Note + $90k Taylor Swift Tickets?!
Ep.23 The WEIRD World of Nikocado Avocado + TRY GUYS UPDATE
Ep.24 Kanye's UNHINGED Alex Jones Interview + Balenciaga CONSPIRACY + Ruby 8 Passengers Update
Ep.25 David Dobrik Causes Jeff Wittek/Tana Mongeau FIGHT + Is BRITNEY SPEARS OKAY?
Ep.26 OKBABY Break Up + Britney Spears UPDATE + Nikacado Avocado's NEW Podcast
Ep.27 Perez Hilton's "INSIDE INFO" on Britney Spears + Sharing Our Favorite Internet Videos
Ep.28 Brittany Dawn’s Foster DRAMA, Andrew Tate ARRESTED & Tiktok Pickle DISASTER
Ep.29 Mikayla vs Rich Lux vs Jaclyn Hill + Logan Paul & CRYPTOZOO Exposed By CoffeeZilla
Ep.30 Is Scar Girl FAKING IT?! + Logan Paul's PIG Found ABANDONED + Austin Butler BACKLASH
Ep.31 Trying the PINK SAUCE + Rick & Morty Creator EXPOSED
Ep.32 Mikayla LASHGATE Controversy + "Hilaria" Baldwin STILL Faking Her Accent?!
Ep.33 Def Noodles Is On an APOLOGY Tour?! + Posh Mamma TIKTOK Drama
Ep.34 Mikayla addresses LASHGATE & Taylor Swift Look-A-Like GRAMMY DRAMA
Ep.35 Brent Rivera EXPOSED + Jeffree Star Gets POLITICAL + HUGE ANNOUNCEMENT
Ep.36 INTERVIEW With Def Noodles EX-EMPLOYEE + Selena Gomez vs Hailey Baldwin Drama
Ep.37 WE WERE WRONG About Hailey vs Selena & Taraswrld is CANCELLED (Again)
Ep.38 Taylor Frankie Paul Mormon Swinger ARRESTED & Tiktok Parents Wrap Baby in SARAN WRAP?
Ep.39 Why the Modsun, Avril, Tyga Situation is SO MESSY + Mikayla ADMITS to Lashgate?!
Ep.40 Gwenyth Paltrow's Ski Trial DISASTER + Hailey Asks Selena For HELP?!
Ep.41 Ariana Grande Lookalike Has ONLYFANS?! + Shane Dawson BEGGING For Views?
Ep.42 The H3 vs BBTV thing is WORSE THAN WE THOUGHT & Ariana Grande SLAYS the haters
Ep.43 Unhinged CAKE Drama Hits Tiktok + Why The Reaction to Mr. Beast & Chris Tyson IS SO BAD
Ep.44 Are Sydney Sweeney & Glenn Powell IN LOVE? + Meghan Trainor & Trisha Paytas MESSED UP
Ep.45 Josh Peck is NOT a 'Good Guy' & Francia Raisa vs Selena Gomez drama gets EVEN MESSIER
Ep.46 This TARTE Situation Is NOT OKAY
Ep.47 Alyx Weiss Went Missing & Joined A CULT? + Tattoo Gate on TikTok
Ep.48 TikTok "Detective" Caught LYING & Taylor Swift DATING Matty Healy And Fans Are MAD
Ep.49 CRAZY EVIDENCE for Britney Spears Conspiracy Theories + the Island Boys Went TOO FAR
Ep.50 TikTok ‘Prankster’ Went TOO FAR & Got ARRESTED + Why People Are PISSED at These Teachers
Ep.51 INSANE YouTuber Adoption SCAM + BIG UPDATE on That Britney GLITCH
Ep.52 The iilluminaughtii Situation EXPLAINED + More Island Boys NONSENSE
Ep.53 These Family Vloggers Said WHAT?!
Ep.54 Colleen Ballinger EXPOSED For Problematic Relationship With FANS....
Ep.55 Colleen Ballinger's Brother's LEAKED DMs to FANS + JustPearlyThings BOMBS H3H3 Debate
Ep.56 Reacting To More Pearl HYPOCRISY & Bebe Rexha NEEDS STITCHES After Fan Throws Phone At Her
Ep.57 (DELETED)
Ep.58 We REACT To Colleen Ballinger's UKELELE "Apology"....
Ep.59 (DELETED)
Ep.60 OUR 1-YEAR ANNIVERSARY SURPRISE!! + Why Everyone HATES Keke Palmer's Ex-Boyfriend
Ep.61 Jonah Hill's LEAKED Texts From Ex-GF & This TikToker FAKED WHAT?!
Ep.62 This James Charles Interview Is BAD & Addressing Our Last Episode…
Ep.63 YouTuber CHARGES $3 For Autopsy Photos!?! + Miranda Lambert STOPS Concert to YELL at Fans
Ep.64 How Vanity Fair Got CANCELLED Over This Colleen Ballinger Article
Ep.65. Ariana Grande's Problematic New Relationship ft. BOZE
Ep.66 This Lizzo Lawsuit is INSANE....& Tana Mongeau Caught LYING?!
Ep.67 Why Everyone's PISSED at Acacia Kersey (Again) + Explaining Booktok's Hockey Drama
Ep.68 Explaining The RIDICULOUS "DIY" TikTok Drama + Is Miley Cyrus In A Cult?!?!
Ep.69 What's Going On With Lil Tay?! + This TikToker Got EXPOSED
Ep.70 Fousey Cries After Doing THIS on His 24/7 Livestream?! + H3H3 Embarrasses xQc in Debate
Addressing everything
Ep.71 A SCARY FouseyTube Update & Taylor Swift Impersonator Went TOO FAR
Ep.72 Pink Sauce Owner Lost EVERYTHING + Purse Gate on TikTok is INSANE
Ep.73 Family Vlogger ARRESTED "8 Passengers" DISTURBING New Details
Ep.74 WHY Do These Influencers STILL Support James Charles?! + Burning Man DISASTER
Ep.75 Ashton Kutcher & Mila Kunis DEFEND Danny Masterson + Combat Gel Lady Drama
Ep.76 This Influencer Claims She Can HEAL Blindness + Fence Gate Is A MESS...
Ep.77 This CREEPY TikTok Dentist Needs To STOP + Ashton Kutcher Resigns From Thorn
Ep.78 Going Down The TROUBLING Joy Sparkles Rabbit Hole...
Ep.79 Dax Shepard's PROBLEMATIC Podcast + The TikTok Dentist Is Back & WORSE Than Ever...
Ep.80 Lil Tay Is BACK & It's TROUBLING + Taylor Swift & Travis Kelce Conspiracy
Ep.81 Jeff Wittek EXPOSES David Dobrik & Natalie Noel + 8 Passengers New Updates
Ep.82 Tiktok Bartender CAN’T STOP Oversharing + Streamer EXPOSED By Moderator
Ep.83 TikTok Mom Uploaded WHAT?! & This Principal NEEDS To Be Fired
Ep.84 Jeffree Star CALLS OUT James Charles...Again + We DM'd Kendall Jenner?!
Ep.85 Sssniperwolf vs Jacksfilms & The TikTok Bartender Overshares....Again
Ep.86 TikTok Mortician's Fans TURNED On Her + Cheesecake Factory Date Lady
Ep.87 Jeffree Star & Rich Lux "Helping" Eugenia Cooney?! + Tiktok Rabbit Hole
Ep.88 Mr Beast CALLED OUT By Rosanna Pansino For LYING?! (HALLOWEEN)
Ep.89 Keith Lee's CHAOTIC Atlanta Food Tour + Charli & Dixie D'Amelio's COSPLAY As Walmart Workers
Ep.90 Exposing the TikToker Who Gets TATTOOS of His Haters + Mr Beast vs Rosanna NEW UPDATES
Ep.91 Bethenny Frankel's OUT OF TOUCH TJ Maxx Drama + Addressing the Hate We've Been Getting
Ep.92 Jeffree Star's TROUBLING "Employee" + Sam & Colby's CONJURING Video Was FAKED?!
Ep.93 HRH Collection's PROBLEMATIC Content + Taylor Swift & Travis Kelce's PDA Filled Concert
Ep.94 Sam & Colby LEAKED Security Footage & CONJURING HOUSE Update + LASHGATE 2.0
Ep.95 Colleen Ballinger RETURNS And It’s…Weird + Christy Carlson Romano EXPOSED?!
Ep.96 Lauren The Mortician's UNHINGED Lawyer & Halle Bailey's Nail Salon Disaster
Ep.97 Lauren the Mortician's Lawyer is WAY WORSE Than We Thought + VLOG SQUAD: Where Are They NOW?
Ep.98 TikToker Claims INFLUENCER "Discrimination" + Michelle The Bartender Overshares...AGAIN
Ep.99 Christy Carlson Romano Attempts To SHADE US + Salah Brooks Situation EXPLAINED
END OF SEASON 1

CW // mentions of animal dissection
To get some things out of the way, I'm (18transM) a huge biology nerd. I also like creepy shit. Every year I've done a biology class or biology-adjacent class. Only exception was sophomore year of high school (curse you chemistry).
Anyways. Today in my culinary class I somehow got onto the topic with some classmates about biology, specifically dissection. I get very excited about the things I enjoy, even if it is macabre. I find this kind of thing and how different species' systems work fascinating.
I started going into detail about the squid dissection I did last year in marine bio and the fetal pig dissection I did just last semester. Even showed a picture or two to classmates who were okay with seeing it. One of my classmates, we'll call her Phoebe (15-17F), came in and was a little curious about one of the pictures.
I showed her and I as I described all the things I found and the procedure I could notice her backing away from me. I turned off my phone and asked what was wrong and she told me she just wasn't fond of hearing about dissections.
I understood and stopped talking with her about it. I saw another classmate and went to talk to them about something.
When I was going to pack up my things Phoebe got incredibly quiet and had this look on her face. She was backing away from me again.
I didn't say anything to her cause 1. we were about to be let out and 2. I didn't want to make her feel anymore uncomfortable. But I could tell she was avoiding me, and my mind instantly went "holy fuck she's terrified of you".
Even though she asked to see the picture and I told her that it could be pretty uncomfortable for people to look at, she still wanted to look. I don't get it at all. My little biology loving ass was just happy to be able to talk about this with some people and now I think my own classmate is scared of me.

This is a fictional "true crime" podcast comprising 10 episodes, written as a podcast script. I'll be posting twice a week.
Episode 1: A Macabre Discovery
Jack Moorask, surveyor: I’ll never forget the day I found the toe. It was real clear and brisk, a perfect winter’s day in LA. My partner Rodrigo and I got going early to our job site in the Palisades. We were hired to mark the boundary between two neighboring properties. We were up on the slope in the wooded area at the back of the houses, the area that borders Sunset Boulevard. I was setting up my tripod when I saw the sun flash on something blue on the ground. I thought it must be a dead bird, but the color looked too bright, so I walked over to check it out. It was a human toe, a big toe, with sparkly nail polish.
Chloe Quinn: Welcome to Between the Lies. I’m your host, reporter Chloe Quinn. In this podcast, we’ll examine a crime that sent waves of shock and terror through an affluent community and a decade later remains unsolved—the killing of a seventeen-year-old senior at Malibu High School. Demelza Intriago went missing on September 12th, 2013. After a drunken argument with her ex-boyfriend and a rival girl on Zuma Beach, she stormed off—and vanished. Five months later, surveyors conducting a topographical study found her bones, twenty-one miles from where she was last seen in Malibu. Here’s Jack Moorask, the surveyor you heard at the top of the episode, with the rest of his story.
Jack Moorask: The toe looked like it was gnawed off by an animal. I called Rodrigo over. He took a look and wondered if more body parts could be around. Both of us looked up the slope at the same time and saw a clump of old tree trunks. We glanced at each other and without saying a word, we walked up to it. I don’t know what it was that told me to check it out, my spidey senses, I guess. I got on my hands and knees and used a stick to dig deeper until I could look under the logs with my flashlight. I saw what looked like human bones and remnants of clothing. Rodrigo took a look and agreed. We called 911.
Chloe: Demelza’s death hit everyone at Malibu High hard. As you might imagine, murders are rare in a community where Hollywood royalty like Mel Gibson, Martin Sheen, Pierce Brosnan and many others live in beachfront mansions or atop cliffs with expansive views of the Pacific Ocean. Malibu’s spectacular coastal scenery has appeared in countless movies and TV shows.
But for all its fame and wealth, Malibu still has a somewhat small-town vibe to it. The city has fireworks on the Fourth of July. At Christmas, kids have breakfast with Santa at city hall. But it’s a rarefied small town all the same. McDonalds sits across from Nobu, the famed sushi restaurant owned by Robert DeNiro. You can buy a $600 minidress in the same shopping center as a bunch of bananas or a bottle of aspirin.
Running through Malibu’s twenty-seven-mile-long strip of coastline, much like the scenic Pacific Coast Highway, is a divide of class and privilege. Because for all its well-heeled residents there are also the countless, mostly invisible legions who work for them. The maids, gardeners and nannies who take the bus that runs along PCH. There are also the teachers, small businessowners, clergy. Every so often, something happens to cause the sides to clash, and the breach lies exposed like a raw wound. It’s like when an earthquake occurs, and Los Angelenos wring their hands about living on top of tectonic plates. Until they forget again. That’s what happened in Demelza Intriago’s killing.
The prime suspect in her murder was her former boyfriend, Lars Magnusson, the son of Oscar-winning movie director Anders Magnusson. Demelza and her family are at the opposite end of the social spectrum. They were immigrants from Venezuela and employed by the likes of the Magnussons. Demelza’s parents were, and still are, the caretakers of a mansion owned by Australian actor Bazza Molloy, who lives in Sydney most of the time. Her mom also cleaned houses and her dad worked as a handyman to supplement their income.
Some people called Demelza and Lars “the odd couple” and said their three-year relationship, which ended three months before Demelza went missing, was really about external needs for each of them: for Demelza, climbing the social ladder and for Lars, rebelling against his parents. Others praised the fact that they got together despite the different worlds they came from.
Demelza’s death raised painful questions about social class: whether lives are valued based on how much money they represent, about the lack of accountability that money can buy, the friends and favors that fame draws, and the loneliness and vulnerability of being a foreigner, of being different.
We’re going to explore those questions later in the podcast, but to start off, let’s delve into the facts of the case. This is what we know about the events that led up to Demelza’s disappearance: Soon after leaving her job at a restaurant, she was last seen on Zuma Beach in Malibu around 11 p.m. on a warm Saturday night, September 12th, 2012.
Lars Magnusson, Demelza’s former boyfriend, and some friends were partying at a hidden cove on the beach when Demelza arrived unexpectedly. She was drunk. Very drunk. She and Lars argued, then she left by herself and vanished. Her body was found by the surveyors five months later.
My first stop was Detective Desdemona Nimmo with the Los Angeles Police Department. She was assigned the case because Demelza’s remains were found in L.A. not in Malibu, which is policed by the county sheriff’s department.
Detective Nimmo has been a detective in West L.A. investigating homicides and other major crimes for over a decade. She has a brisk, no-nonsense air of efficiency and a deep voice. She’s a little intimidating, in fact. But after talking to her throughout my investigation, I came to see she has a softer, compassionate side. She sees herself as an advocate for victims who cannot speak for themselves, the ones who’ve had their lives unfairly snatched from them.
Detective Nimmo: Every victim deserves justice, and every perpetrator should be held accountable. It’s really that simple.
Chloe: I’m driving with Detective Nimmo along Sunset Boulevard. She’s going to show me the spot where Demelza was found. Sunset runs from the Pacific Ocean to downtown LA through some of LA’s most storied communities like Bel Air and Beverly Hills. My favorite stretch of Sunset runs through an upscale area called Pacific Palisades. The road curves and winds through an area studded with eucalyptus trees. Then it passes through the business district before descending a steep hill to end at the Pacific Coast Highway and the ocean. We’re not going that far though.
Detective Nimmo: We did not have a lot of evidence or witnesses in Demelza’s case, but it is still an active investigation. The truth is we don’t know if the killer targeted Demelza or if she was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. We don’t know if the perpetrator killed her intentionally or accidentally, if they killed before or killed since.
Chloe: Detective Nimmo pulls over. On one side of Sunset is the ranch where Will Rogers once lived. In the 1930s, Rogers was one of Hollywood’s highest paid actors famed for his cowboy tricks. His property is now a state park. But we’re headed to the other side of the road, down the side of a steep, rugged ravine.
Nimmo: When Demelza was found, hundreds of people left flowers and stuffed animals all along here. It created a real traffic hazard.
Chloe: Today there’s no sign that this was the final resting place of murdered teenager. We clamber over a guardrail and make our way down the slope. Detective Nimmo warned me to wear sturdy shoes and I’m glad I took her advice. I lurch from tree to tree, so I don’t fall headlong down the incline. Detective Nimmo is descending sideways. She’s obviously done this before. I decide to do the same.
Nimmo: This is it. Between these two trees.
Chloe: We’ve come to a patch of earth between two eucalyptuses. The tatters of yellow crime scene tape flutter around their white trunks. They almost look like ghostly sentries guarding the spot.
Nimmo: I come here every so often, mainly to check if anyone has been here. Killers sometimes go back to the scene of the crime. They might leave a clue.
Chloe: In silence, we stare at the soil as if waiting for it to reveal the secrets that it holds. The hum of traffic up on Sunset is faint. A car horn breaks our reverie.
Nimmo: The call came in midmorning. Remains of a body found. I investigate all suspicious deaths in West L.A., so I caught the case. Judging from the location down the embankment, I thought it could be someone who’d fallen and died of their injuries, but as soon as I saw the shallow grave under some logs, I knew we were looking at foul play. Someone had put her there. We found fabric from a pink T-shirt, denim shorts and a white canvas sneaker, as well as a pendant and an earring of a giraffe belonging to a matching set. Those items immediately rang a bell. When I got back to the bureau, I checked our missing persons reports. The description of the clothing and jewellery Demelza was last seen wearing matched what we found. Dental records later proved it was Demelza.
Chloe: The autopsy determined that the cause of death was strangulation. With the body so decomposed, it couldn’t be determined if she’d been sexually assaulted, but it looked like she died around the time she disappeared.
Nimmo: My theory is that she was killed the night she disappeared and was already dead when her body was brought here. The killer was looking for a place to dispose of the body and chose a spot that’s difficult to access on purpose. There was no sign of a struggle or anything else that would have shown she was killed at the site, but we had heavy rain that winter so any evidence would have washed down the slope. The remains had been disturbed by animals, but we could see that she had been placed in a fetal position, with her hands crossed on her chest, her head bowed. Probably so the killer didn’t have to dig a big hole. Burying bodies is a lot of work.
Chloe: Not much in the way of evidence was found. Too much time had lapsed.
Nimmo: We found some DNA under her fingernails, but it was in such a degraded state that it didn’t tell us anything other than she tried to fend off the assailant. She put up a good fight.
Chloe: You know how on TV shows the detective has one particular case that haunts them? Demelza Intriago is that case for Desi Nimmo. She has a photo of Demelza pinned to her cubicle wall. It’s Demelza’s senior class portrait taken the week before she went missing. In the months that followed her disappearance, it became instead the picture used on missing persons posters and in the media.
Nimmo: We’ve received many leads over the years. I check out each and every one. This remains an active investigation.
Chloe: Lars Magnusson, Demelza’s former boyfriend, remains a person of interest in the case, but he fled the country.
Nimmo: Lars is a Swedish citizen, and we believe he’s in Sweden. His family moved there right after Lars graduated high school. But even before then, he lawyered up and refused to cooperate with law enforcement. We have a border alert on him if he returns to the country, but to our knowledge he has not re-entered the United States although his father travels back and forth.
Chloe: Sunrays beam down through the trees onto Demelza’s resting place giving it a celestial glow. It seems appropriate, as if nature is marking the innocent life that was stolen well before its time. There’s not much else to see. We head back to the car.
Using social media, I tracked down one of Demelza’s friends from high school, Tessa Kesselman, who’s now studying for a PhD in anthropology at Boston University. I caught up with her on a visit home to Malibu and we went to Zuma Beach where Demelza was last seen.
Zuma is an iconic California beach. It’s almost two miles of golden sand with crystal clear water and lots of white-capped waves that make it a popular destination for surfers. Like many things in Malibu, it’s had numerous moments of fame. It was the location of the final scene in the 1968 movie Planet of the Apes. It’s also mentioned in the lyrics to the U2 song “California.” Gwen Stefani named her second child Zuma. To local kids, though, it’s simply a place to kick it. Here’s Tessa.
Tessa Kesselman: It’s like a lot of childhood things. You grow up with them, so you take them for granted. You don’t realize how other people see them. Whenever I tell people I’m from Malibu, they’re, like, ‘Wow. That’s amazing.’ But Malibu is not paradise. Nowhere is. (Sniffs) Sorry. I get emotional when I remember Demelza.
Chloe: The day we go to Zuma, it’s cold and grey. The beach is deserted. We get out of my car and walk across the sand. The ocean wind lashes us like a whip.
Tessa: A group of kids found this small beach between two, like, headlands. It’s tricky to get to. You have to walk on the rocks then go around the headland on a narrow ledge with the waves crashing behind you, but it was worth it. The cove faces the ocean so it’s totally private. We built fires, drank, smoked weed. The usual teenage stuff. I went there a couple times, but I wasn’t a regular. You still up for checking it out?
Chloe: Tessa points to a big crag of rock jutting into the sea. Waves crash on a rock bed leading up to its foot. Wait, you mean we’re going around that cliff?
Tessa: Yep.
Chloe: The things reporters do to get the story. Twenty minutes later, we arrive at the cove, a tiny half-moon of sand bordered on both sides by tall rocks, the cliff face at the rear and the ocean in front. Getting here was a little scary, to be honest.
Tessa: Honestly, it was creepy. I didn’t like coming here at night. There’s an overhang somewhere, here it is. If it was cold or raining, we’d huddle under here. This is sure bringing back some memories. (She chokes back a sob.)
Chloe: We find a dry patch of sand and sit.
Tessa: Demelza was never a party girl. She’d go along with drinking and smoking weed, but she never initiated it. She was a serious student, a striver. She wanted to do well and please her parents. Her family had gone through so much to get to this country. They’d lost everything in Venezuela. She didn’t talk about it much, but she told me once, right here, in fact. I was struck by how much she’d gone through compared to us, how spoiled we must seem to her.
Lars was just the opposite. He had everything. Actor good looks, blond, blue eyes. He lived in a big house. His parents had money, fame. But like a lot of kids in Malibu, there was pain behind the façade. His mom drank. She’d been an actress back in Sweden but could never get her career going here. His dad was a director, but he was hardly ever home. He was always showing up in the tabloids with some starlet on his arm. Lars acted out. In ninth grade he started using drugs, like heavy shit. Crack, meth, you name it. He was suspended for fighting, got detentions for talking back to teachers. I think Demelza was the stability he was missing in his life. He knew she wasn’t with him because of his dad’s fame. She’d never even heard of his father.
Chloe: The summer before Demelza went missing, she and Lars broke up. Everyone was surprised.
Tessa: I don’t know what really led up to it. We hadn’t been that close until she called me right before school let out for the summer and told me they were over. She just said he was immature. I figured she finally saw him for the loser that he was. Honestly, I thought it was good she got away from him.
She got a job bussing tables at Poseidon’s, the biker bar up near the county line on PCH. That Saturday, I stopped in there to say hi to her and see what time she got off work. She hadn’t returned my calls for a few days. She seemed tired, kinda distracted. She apologized for not getting back to me, said she’d been working a lot of overtime. The place was packed so we didn’t have time to chat. She said she was working until closing and told me she’d call me the next day to make plans to get together. Then out of the blue, she asked me if I knew Thirza Povich. I said I didn’t and asked who she was. Demelza never got a chance to answer. Her boss called her to a dirty table. He seemed mad she was talking to me, so I left. I didn’t want to get her in trouble.
Chloe: After she went missing, it came out who Thirza Povich was, Lars’s new girlfriend. Tessa thought it was an odd coincidence, or maybe it wasn’t.
Tessa: Demelza had never mentioned Thirza before, then the same night she shows up where Thirza and Lars are hanging out? I can’t help but feel those two things are related.

I couldn’t believe it when I heard at school on Monday that she was missing. I just couldn’t get my head around it. I’ve always wondered what I could’ve done that afternoon at Poseidon’s. Could I have prevented her death in some way, waited around to ask about Thirza Povich, called her later that night? I mean, if just one person had made a different choice, including myself, maybe she’d still be alive. 

Chloe: I named this podcast Between the Lies because my aim is to dig up the truth that has fallen between all the rumors and outright lies in this case—the whole truth, not the half-truths, not the omissions of truth. Anyone who knows anything about this case at all, drop me a line on the website. Working together, maybe we can solve this murder.
Next time on Between the Lies:
Male voice: Everything was great until Demelza crashed the party, like literally crashed. She tripped and fell to the ground, giving us all a start. Kyle said, ‘Nice of you to drop in.’ We cracked up. We thought it was a hilarious joke, except Lars. It was like he knew right off that Demelza being there was bad news.

Warning: wall of text.
TL;DR: The "capacity for sentience" is a better metric to use to judge whether or not we should extend moral consideration to an organism than appealing to something like DNA. The pro-life side needs to defend why it's acceptable to grant legal protections to a zygote, because appealing to the "humanness" of the zygote is an impotent moral framework.
Alabama recently ruled that frozen embryos are "children" legally. While they are backtracking now that they have faced political backlash, their view that human moral value begins at conception demands that any IVF procedure that ends with destroyed embryos be banned. This is completely logically consistent with a view that embryos are children. So is the banning of specific forms of contraception; if you believe that an embryo demands protection, then it is totally logically consistent to want to ban any birth control option that allows for fertilization but not implantation.
Therefore, this is the argument that needs addressing: that an egg upon fertilization is no different in a moral sense than a born human.
I want to be clear up front: I am NOT making claims about the “humanity” of a fetus. I 100% accept that not only is a fertilized egg "biologically human", but it’s also a distinct human “organism”.
I just don’t think that killing “a unique human organism” is always murder. This claim always creates either disgust or fear in PLers; generally, they'll suggest that admitting this is equivalent to admitting that I think murdering 5-year-olds is acceptable. However, the arguments I present here will make that strawman completely indefensible. I will tell PLers up front: every person you care about that you worry this moral system will exclude, whether they be disabled or comatose, is accounted for.
Before I begin, I want to define my terms:

• Personhood: "Personhood" is a nebulous term bundles a lot of traits and qualities under a single umbrella, such as sentience, emotionality, the ability to reason, self-awareness, and the ability to exercise moral agency.
• Moral consideration: Moral consideration is the granting of a creature with minimum basic respect for its life and well-being and granting it certain protections. For example, you should not take action to harm this being unless you have a good reason to do so, and ultimately you should extend respect for its well-being whenever possible.
• Capacity for sentience: The capacity for sentience is the capacity for a brain to perceive or feel; possessing the necessary structures to have a subjective experience as a unique individual (qualia). The capacity for sentience is different than currently being sentient; one does not need to have an unbroken continuity of experience to have the capacity for sentience, in the same way that a computer does not need a continuity of being "on" to have the capacity to be turned on. Comas, sleeping, and other forms of temporary sedation or suspension of faculties therefore do not remove someone from having the capacity for sentience anymore than handcuffing someone removes the capacity for their arms to work.

While in general I do believe that "personhood" as a set of traits is what defines our incredible moral worth as humans, my threshold for extending moral consideration to something does not require it to have all of the traits of "personhood" I've listed. Those that cannot exercise moral agency or reason are still valuable after all, so the loss of a trait or even multiple does not remove a creature from being worthy of considering its well-being.
So for the purposes of discussing fetal value, I'll set a low bar for moral value: the capacity for sentience only. If a creature possesses this trait, it at minimum is worthy of moral consideration.
With that out of the way, let's start with arguments I do not agree with:
Argument from Humanity (Human DNA)
The argument from humanity is an argument in which a being is granted moral consideration because of its humanity; if a thing is a distinct human organism, it is as valuable as any other human organism, regardless of life stage or "completeness". This seems to be the most common pro-life arguments for fetal moral consideration, and I wholly reject it as a model of morality, as it is both too exclusive and too inclusive.
The argument from humanity is too exclusive because it assigns a biological essentialism to morality that no one actually adheres to. We do not currently grant life moral consideration because of its DNA, nor should we. For example, many of us love our pets. However, in a PL view why should we value them? The argument from humanity only grants value to humans. A profiler COULD argue that much like a human, a pet should be treated with moral consideration because that species has the same self-referential value that humans have. The problem with this is that all I could ever offer as an explanation as to why I should value a dog from a PL perspective is "because they are a living dog". How does that offer me any criteria by which to think about moral value, or to try and include say... a cat? By what criteria would I decide to morally value a cat if the only reason I can give for valuing my pet dog is by appealing to its "dogness"? The PL view of moral worth strikes me as simply stating part of a definition of what an organism is while not offering any explanation as to why that organism is worth moral consideration or when they stop being worth moral consideration. It's defining humans as valuable because they're valuable. This lack of an explanation is completely impotent when trying to talk about any other creature as well. If we meet intelligent aliens, make AI, or genetically engineer a new organism to be capable of conscious thought, feelings, and communication, does their lack of human DNA exclude them from moral consideration? Of course not! Yet the PL moral model would be incapable of extending moral consideration to these creatures without admitting that moral worth comes from sentience.
The argument is also too inclusive because it can't reasonably exclude those that are obviously not "persons" anymore without incredible feats of mental gymnastics. For example, consider a brain-dead body of a man named "John". This man is dead. By any definition of dead, John is dead. We owe very little morally to the bones of a dead person, and any moral consideration we grant to corpses is residual respect given to the person that previously inhabited the body, but not respect for corpses as things of value in themselves. John's heart might still beat, his lungs may still work, and his liver may still function, but he has lost all capacity for sentience. He neither is currently sentient, nor is his brain capable of generating sentience. He can be biologically alive in the sense that his organs are functioning, but the parts of him that made him a person that desired, felt, thought, and acted are all gone. "John" as an entity is dead. As dead as a corpse being lowered into the ground. The fact that his organs are alive make no difference; the person we call "John" no longer exists, because all the things that made John a person have been irrevocably destroyed.
This is an example of a biologically alive "human" that no longer has moral consideration. While I would treat the body of John with as much respect as any other body, I can no longer really transgress against John. I cannot hurt his feelings or harm him, because there is no longer a "John" to experience or care about that. He is a corpse with a beating heart. The way I see it, John is dead in all the ways that matter. He is not a person. Similarly, I think of a fetus as not being a person based on the same criteria I hold for John. There's no feeling, no thoughts, no desires... nothing happening that could possibly differentiate the "sentience" of a fetus from the "sentience" of John.
Argument From Future Potential
The argument that inevitably follows the "brain death" analogy is one of future potential. The argument tends to be that sure, "John" may not be a person anymore, but John's brain is dead while the fetus is developing. The problem is that I think this requires an admission of the validity of my argument: sure, this creature currently is not in a state where we should grant it moral consideration, but it will be. This is an admission that the fetus does not currently possess the capacity for sentience and trying to pass off "potential" as the same thing. I can't agree with that potential value is exchangeable with current value.
Argument from Relationships
This one is actually an argument I see from my own side, funnily enough (so none of you get to pretend I don’t critique my own side!). I don’t think that relationships dictate (or really even are relevant to) whether or not I should extend moral consideration to something. If you’re an orphan with no friends, I don’t think that means I get to retract moral consideration and consider myself an empathetic or caring person. In fact, I’d suggest that my doing so proves I am NOT caring and empathetic.
Rejecting Value as a Hierarchy
Inevitably when I lay talk about my views on moral consideration, someone asks if an animal has “less moral value” than a person. I always found this question hard to answer because it's not even what I'm arguing.
“Moral consideration” is a threshold; either a creature has traits that make me think I should treat it with basic respects, or it doesn’t. Something that has “less value” is a thing that exists in a hierarchy within which things can be ranked. I don’t argue that moral consideration should be hierarchical.
For example, I think dogs, pigs, and humans are all easily worthy of moral consideration. However, questions of a hierarchy of value are not relevant to this post and not part of my argument. Either a creature meets the criteria or it does not.
Argument for the Capacity for Sentience as the Determinant of Moral Determination
Now that I've laid out the arguments I've rejected, I'll briefly talk about why I think sentience is the better option. What’s valuable about sentience? Well, it's hard to argue for an axiomatic value, but simply put: a sentient creature is the only thing capable of caring about anything. It's the only thing capable of feeling anything, experiencing something as good or bad, and so it's the only thing to which having a "moral duty" even makes sense. It is only a mind that has the capacity for sentience that can be robbed of anything; I do not “rob” a rock of experience if I were to crush it. I cannot transgress against a corpse. I cannot hurt a plant's feelings or cause pain to a creature with no nervous system. In effect, I can cause a harm a creature in a morally relevant way only if it is capable of perceiving that harm subjectively.
When it comes to measuring the capacity for sentience, we actually have developed sophisticated understandings of the brain during events like a vegetative state and how that differs from brain death, as well as how the human brain develops. It's possible that in the future we'll learn something that we don't currently know, but as it stands it seems like the capacity for sentience isn't really possible before 20+ weeks. This means that, to my understanding, almost all abortions are performed on fetuses that cannot subjectively feel, perceive, think, reason, etc.
Conclusion
So, we know what sentience looks like, both in engaging with a creature and in terms of brain activity, we know approximately when the capacity develops in humans, and we can tell the difference between a body that is comatose and one that is brain dead. The moral framework of thinking about moral consideration in the framework of sentience also has the advantage of allowing us to reflect on why we value others and most importantly. It allows us APPLY those values to others based on those values in a way that frameworks like the Argument from DNA are incapable of doing.
For these reasons I think arguing for the capacity for sentience as the metric by which we extend moral consideration is the better option.
I'd go a step farther and suggest that if any PLer wants to argue that DNA makes a person worthy of that moral consideration, they need to defend that point rather than assuming it. Calling PCers murderers and people that just want to kill babies is totally unimpressive if the best defense you can muster in response to a PCer challenging your moral framework is "it's a human being!!!"