Our latest Patreon exclusive episode revolved around the case of Darlie Routier. I managed to find two photos that I referenced during the episode, as well as the silly string video.
This is a picture of the garage window which police and the prosecution stated contained mulch underneath. Part of their case against Darlie was that if there was indeed a perpetrator he would have left an impression in the bed of mulch underneath the window which he entered and exited. However, there is clearly no mulch underneath the window. There are numerous articles which state that underneath this window there is concrete (although from the quality of the photo it looks like gravel).
Also it should be noted that the window is quite low to the ground. It would be easy to step in and out of the window without disturbing the dust on the windowsill, another thing the prosecution brought up in their case against Darlie.
This bread knife is the knife which was tested and found to contain traces of a rubbery compound and fiberglass rods. The screen of the garage window also contained these compounds which lead the police and prosecution to believe Darlie slashed the window herself in an attempt to fabricate an intruder. As I noted in the episode, it's strange that these materials were found on the bread knife but not the butcher block, which is where the knife appeared to be. To me that means that either, if this knife was indeed used to cut the screen and not some other type of material with the same similar compounds it was washed before being put back into the butcher block allowing for most of the material to disappear but not all of it, or the items collected were not dusted correctly. A popular opinion is that the forensic team may have dusted the window first, then dusted the knives, resulting in a transference of the materials from one area to another.
While the quality of this video is poor (1996) it does a good job of explaining several things brought up about the silly string video within the Darlie's trial which are problematic. She didn't bring the silly string and decorations, her sister did. There was a service held before this birthday party where everyone, including Darlie was emotional, however during the trial she was painted as an unloving, materialistic, mother who was not grieving the death of her children. The service prior to this video was never shown to the jurors during the trial.
I wasn't going to put this out because it was just a test. I needed to do something before recording my podcast episode today to make sure everything sounded great with the new pop filter (and also to see how well it would improve the quality if at all).
I've been listening to Bye Bye by Gryffin featuring Ivy Adara a lot lately. The acoustic version, it really touches something in me, and when I was trying to think of what could I do to really test the filter I said well, I'll just sing the song it's not going to go out publicly anyways.
So then I sang it, I ran my favorite from Adobe Audition and then I played it back, and I cried. There are plenty of reasons why, the audio sounds the best it ever has, the first time I ever used this microphone I tested it in a similar fashion (singing a song) and so I was shocked that it sounded so good, the song is beautiful, sweet, and sad, and that it touches me. It touches me so deeply.
In talking with my beautiful friend Kate, she encouraged me to release it because we all feel pain, we all feel sadness and it should be shared that it's okay. If this caused me to have such an emotion, as the singer, maybe it'll open something up in other people too. So here it is. Note it's not perfect, produced, any of that stuff, but if you want to hear it here goes. I've also linked the Gryffin's version because it's absolutely gorgeous. He does such a great job on his music and Ivy Adara sounds so beautiful and perfect live. It's a great track and everyone should give it a listen.
Okay, being able to distinctly hear my spirit guides again feels great. There were ones I could get impressions off of and small conversations but there were a few others that were missing.
However, sometimes they are so frustrating! I love them I do but, sometimes I want to do something so bad, or I'm so tired and they constantly remind me oh, not right now or oh, you're missing something to make this perfect. I mean the feeling I get once it's completely done and we all fully approve is insane and worth it, but in the meantime it makes me want to hit something.
I have been working on this document for almost four hours and I'm missing one phrase, one. I have tried to change it in every possible way but they keep screaming at me it's not right and I agree, fine, it's not, but unfortunately, my brain isn't capable of coming up with the correct way to phrase it, so you know what? To the side it goes guys. To the freaking side!
Episode 11 was incredibly important (and nerve wracking) for me. It was the episode in which, as a thank you, I read a story on air that I created. Now that I have this blog I decided to post the written version in case anyone preferred to read it instead of listen to it.
There are a couple of differences in the written version than the spoken version due to sentence structure and general flow, but 99.5% of it is exactly the same.
Hope you enjoy!
.It had been two weeks since Sam's, well, I just can't say it. I can't say the word "accident". I can't say death, because I cannot comprehend those words right now. I couldn't comprehend them at his funeral. I couldn't identify his body, because it couldn't have been him. It could have never been, my Sam.
His brother went in and did it. Even when Jeff came out crying I still couldn't believe him. I still didn't believe it. I wanted to scream and shout at Jeff. How stupid could he be to not know what his brother looked like? I refused to believe it until I received his belongings, and right there, inside was a single gold wedding band. Scratched and unpolished from years of hard labor. It could have been anyone's. Hell, it could have even been mine! But there, on the inside of the ring sat a single inscription, "7.2.10, The day I met P.C." Even that could have been anyone's initials. Paul Corbin, Peter Chine, but I knew it. I knew it because those initials stood for a nickname only I called him. Penny cheeseball.
No one knew that nickname, not a single soul. I knew him around school, I always called him cheeseball to myself. Head full of strawberry blonde hair, curly, fussy, and unruly. But the first time we spoke he walked into the hardware store where I worked, and instead of paying like a normal human being, with dollars, or a credit card, he paid with rolls of pennies. My manager wanted to kill him, but in all honesty, his oddities amused me. The next day I asked him why did he only have pennies. He told me he collected them, some mantra his grandfather used to say "if you save a penny a day you'll be rich by 45". I didn't believe that one bit, I thought it was the dumbest thing, but the way his face lit up as he told me the story. The obvious joy, love, and respect he had for that man. How much he wanted to believe that, his dedication and determination? I fell in love with Sam, over fucking pennies.
And now he was gone. Was, there's that word again. People kept saying it at his funeral, they kept using his name in past tense. That he was gone. I cursed them out before running away to the house. I didn't even stay as they put him in the ground I couldn't because he wasn't here. He had to be, he had to be, but my heart knew. The darkness that settled there ever since the news ate away more at me until I crumbled into pieces of nothing. I sobbed I screamed, I cried for hours until my voice was hoarse and my body ached. The grief drove me past the point of exhaustion and before I knew it the sun was pouring into our home.
Stiffness ate at my joints. I'd wound myself into a tight ball and fell asleep on our old wood floor. It hurt, I hurt, but that hurt was from the inside out. I walked into our bedroom on autopilot. Took out a new change of clothes and paused as the smell of Sam's aftershave hit me square in the chest. Alcohol, spices, and mint. That's what it smelled like. I turned to greet him, to kiss him and then yell at him for worrying me the way he did but there was nothing. There was no one, and somehow my heart broke all over again.
I ran out of the room and out of that house until my knees buckled and I fell over. Our neighbor, Dana, ran out to me. She rocked me as I cried and screamed into the air that he was gone. Completely and utterly gone. My husband, the father of my future children, the person that I wanted to share the rest of my life with, my soulmate, was gone. I hated the world at that moment, everything and everyone in it, I hated it all. Most of all I hated the person who caused this, who ran my husband off the road all because a fucking text message was more important to them than paying attention to the damn road. If I ever found them, even God wouldn't be able to help them.
At night it was worse. Everything got worse. It's funny the routines your body remembers. Sam gets home by 6 p.m. we always have dinner at 6:30. But there was no garage door opening, there was no whistling through the house, no hug, no kiss. For several weeks I would pick up our cast iron frying pan with the idea of cooking something and then remember he wasn't coming home today. That he would never come home again. My anger, my rage continued to build and build until that Friday at exactly 8 p.m.
He always watched that stupid Syfy show. I always made fun of him for it, but I still watched it with him. He was so in love with science fiction and horror, always said we'd need the information one day to protect us against the zombie apocalypse. It was ridiculous, absolutely 150% ridiculous, but I missed it. I missed that routine, I missed him, and something in me snapped. I don't know what it was, I don't know what you would call it but it was like a bridge that had exploded from the bottom. The entire structure fell and collapsed, and everything, everything just became hot. I launched over our sofa and ripped that television off the wall. It tumbled and crashed to the floor but I kept hitting it over and over. I hit it until the screen broke and even then I didn't stop. I threw the vase on the table, broke the remote apart with my hands, I tried to tear the sofa cushions apart but the material was too strong, so I just overturned it. The lamps? Gone. Those bulbs? Broken and demolished the same way my heartfelt. It wasn't until I got to that blueprint that I stopped. It was the first design Sam had ever had accepted by a client. It was what fueled the success of his company, and I couldn't, I couldn't destroy that. I just, couldn't.
Staring at that blueprint with bloodshot eyes I felt like I found my voice, for the first time since all of this. "Why did you leave me, Sam? How am I supposed to go on without you?"
That rage, the feeling, and acceptance of his loss woke something up inside of me. For the first time in almost a month, I entered our bedroom. I stepped into the bathroom and took a shower. I used his soap, wore one of his shirts, and I know it's crazy but I swear I could feel him. For the first time, in over a month I swear I felt his arms wrap around me and the warmth there made me feel stronger than I knew I was. It took me hours to clean up the destruction I had caused in 20 minutes or less and I fell asleep on the same couch that I had been trying to break apart.
The doorbell woke me, the incessant ding-dong. I was tempted to ignore it just as I had been for weeks. Whatever neighbor who made me another pity casserole could leave it on the doormat, I'd get it later. But then I heard his voice, "Vanessa, I know you're in there, open up."
I grimaced. It was Jeff. I thought ignoring his phone calls would have told him everything I needed to say. To leave me the fuck alone. Then the banging started and my sleep-deprived mind couldn't take it. It felt like he was literally knocking on my skull. I opened the door and he paused mid-knock. He took one look at me and I braced myself for him to say something, anything, but instead, he just hugged me.
It was odd, unexpected, and comforting. I realized then that I had been selfish in my grief. That I thought Jeff had Cara, his wife. That he had someone to share that pain with while I didn't have anyone. That I didn't want that from anyone, not really. That I just wanted to stay here in this dark hole that kept pulling me under more and more every day. But to know someone, for the first time, felt what I did even at the smallest degree, that someone knew my pain. It made my hole a little brighter.
I motioned for him to come inside and as he did, he froze at the sight of the living room.
"I know," I said quietly fully expecting the judgment. I wouldn't be mad at him if he checked me into a mental hospital right at this moment.
"It's worse than I thought. I guess I got that message right on time."
"Huh?" I asked, "What message?" But he simply shook his head, "Let me get those bags out of here for you then we'll talk."
When he came back with a drink for the both of us I scrunched my face, "I could have gotten that for you."
He gave me a "yeah right" face and sat down next to me.
"Do you want to tell me what happened?"
"I got a little, upset."
When he didn't respond I glanced over at him. Jeff was loud. He was frank, unfiltered, a tell it as it is sort of guy. He was almost the complete opposite of Sam. The fact that he wasn't yelling at me right now unnerved me. "I just, I've been having a hard time."
"Yeah I figured, you haven't been answering any of my calls."
"I couldn't," I said, "I just, I needed time."
"Don't you think a month was more than enough, V? Jesus," he muttered. "The last time I saw you, you punched me in the face. I thought you were dead."
"Sometimes I wish I was-" the words flew out of my mouth with such ease they shocked me.
"Don't ever fucking say that again, okay? You may have only married Sam, but you're like a sister to me. You're family and I can't lose anyone else right now, alright?"
When I didn't say anything he continued, "Do you believe in ghosts?"
"And you wonder why I didn't answer any of your calls?"
He glared at me. "Yes, I believe in ghosts. Why?"
He paused. I could tell he was considering how to tell me something. "Jeff, just say it."
"Sam's been haunting you, but you haven't been able to hear him. So he left me a message, that's why I came over here today. He told me it was important, he-"
I busted out laughing. I rocked back and forth. My sides hurting as I tried to breathe.
"I'm being serious, V."
"Jeff you can't honestly expect me to-"
"You've smelled him around here. Haven't you?"
I froze, my eyes wide as he continued, "And he's been trying to get you to cook. Something about how tater tot casserole isn't enough to keep you going?"
My neighbor, that's what she brought over recently and I'd been eating it breakfast, lunch, and dinner, "How did you-"
"He told me. In a dream, he told me what to say to you to get you to believe me. I think that's the only way he can communicate right now but you need to sleep. Actually, sleep, have you been sleeping in your bedroom?"
"No, I-" I began but he cut me off.
"Do it. It doesn't have to be tonight if you're not ready. If that's the case come home with me we've got the spare room. But, you need to sleep in your bed to be able to hear him."
"I," I stammered, "are you for real right now?"
"You tell me," he answered with a casual shrug of his shoulders like he hadn't just told me my husband's ghost spoke to him.
I thought it over but finally answered, "If there's a chance, I'm staying."
He nodded and then he smiled. The first smile I'd seen on his face since he got here. "I'll let myself out," he gave me a tight hug, "I'll be by tomorrow, and we'll talk about it then, so answer the damn door, okay?"
"Okay," I said sheepishly.
The night took too long to come. I approached our bed with caution and wonderment. Should I do something? Was he already here? Should I announce when I'm going to bed so he can come into my dreams? Do ghosts see what you're wearing when they're in your dreams? It was crazy to think he'd even be there, and yet, how else did Jeff know all of those things if he wasn't? If he couldn't be? I had to believe, at the very least I had to do that if it meant I could see my husband one more time.
I climbed into bed, and fell asleep faster than I had in over a month. I don't remember dreaming, but when I woke up I felt peace. I felt like I had slept for ten years. I felt energized and, just alive. I began to wipe the sleep from my eyes but paused at the gold shimmer on my thumb. I checked my ring finger to verify but my wedding band and ring were still in place. I pulled the gold ring off of my thumb and read the inscription inside, "7.2.10, The day I met P.C." That ring had been stuffed away in the same bag the police had given me and hidden in a drawer in our kitchen. I hadn't been able to look at it much less touch it, but here it sat on my finger.
I whispered up to the ceiling, choking back tears, "Thank you, Sam. I love you too."
I know I've talked a lot about opening up myself on this podcast. There are several reasons why I needed to do this in order to feel healthy and just, in tune with this other part of me that I was shutting off. It's been, in short, amazing. There have been scary moments sure, but I never felt scared. Instead it's mostly been like picking back up where I left off. All the knowledge I had before has just grown and multiplied in this way that makes me feel closer to being whole. Soon I'll sit down and record an episode on what has happened to me thus far since opening myself back up and what exactly that means for me, but I did want to share something with you all right now.
I had started using my tarot cards again. I'll be honest, I've grown out of that deck. When I used to use them years ago, I realized I needed a new deck. My spiritual essence had grown beyond this one and while the cards were still helpful, I had just changed and needed a deck which could be stronger with me. Now though, it's like the energy of my cards have changed drastically. It's to a point that the energy feels matured, like I feel matured. I feel my cards calling to me, asking me to make the time to use them, and when I do the readings I get literally feel like they hit me with energy.
I'm not sure if that's normal. I felt connected to them before but this feels different. It feels monumental. I'm not sure if the adjustment reflects my own spiritual adjustments and alignments or what, but the reading I did on Saturday really blew me away.
I asked if I was on my spiritual path. Perhaps that's why things were different, but there were a few things it said that have really affected me. A big one, essentially, was to go back to the innocence and joy of when I was younger. You all don't know much about my childhood, but there were rarely any moments of this, but the few that were there have been up front and center ever since that reading.
It's like I've begun to adjust. I've been more experimental with foods, something I haven't done in years, something that brings me joy and light. I've been utilizing my gifts in this different way, being guided to things in a different way. One of the most incredible things is I've been happier all week.
I'm a happy person most of the time but my job, my parents, they make that very very hard. Being an empath on top of it doesn't help, or at least I used to think that but I can't even agree to that statement now anymore. It's like, somehow I let go all of those things. Somehow I reconnected with myself recently, through this tarot card reading, and it's impacted my life in so many ways in such a short amount of time.
One of the other things that have been coming to my mind a lot is looking into the supernatural again. Looking into ways to learn about my abilities. I feel like I know them, extremely well, but you can always learn more. So, I'm going to start researching free classes, blogs, etc. that help you learn about your abilities and if I find them to be helpful and of pure intent I'll share them here in case someone else needs them.
I wish you all a beautiful, thankful, and glorious day!
One of the groups I recently joined was an empath group. In it they have a list of articles and posts which are for empaths; to help you understand your gifts, etc.. But they mentioned a line which I have, but had never knew a name for, The Solar Plexus Chakra.
Now I don't know much about chakras at all. I've seen them personally once before. I've tried those meditative apps for chakras on my phone, but they rarely feel right for me. However, I've always known I've had something behind my navel, which is where this chakra is said to reside.
For me, I've always seen this, thing there. It's like a voided circle. However it has no limit. It's vast and expansive, and when I look into it I feel as though I'm in a meditative state viewing a different plane. When I'm happy, positive, and joyful this place is filled with the purest whitest light. It's so comforting and peaceful. However, when I'm negative, sad, down, worried, stress, etc. black spots appear. They will coexist unless I'm trying to overcome the darkness and need help. At that point it looks as if the light is warring against the darkness. Sort of like those CGI views where the immune system attacks a virus in the body. The light surrounds the dark particles and it doesn't remove them, it fills them with light until they become light.
After this war I will feel a little tired, but better. I'll be able to take negative things that happen within the day easier. It's as if I am water and they are oil, they roll right off of me. I've described this to someone once who appeared to know about this "other" chakra, and that some people have it, but they did not know the name of it. They also didn't know anything about being able to see a light or darkness in it, etc.
Apparently the solar plexus is the seat of emotions. Empaths who take on other's emotions make this place burdened, and once they cleanse themselves/this place of those burdens the chakra will be clear and well aligned. Apparently this is also why people who worry a lot, empaths especially are more prone to stomach issues (something I didn't realize was a common thought among empaths, but I also have, especially if worried or stressed). This includes, ulcers, IBS, diarrhea, etc.
Whether you believe in chakras or not it is an interesting thought. There are different cultures and religions, and even in science we now recognize that stress creates chemical imbalances which affect certain organs first, one of those being the stomach. So who knows what's behind it or what causes it?
I think one of the most important things is to realize how much our emotions affect us and in what ways. We should do things that create joy and positivity in us and remove things that inspire negativity. Life's too short. But if you do believe in chakras or know anything about them, leave a comment! I'd love to know your experience with them or what you've been taught/believe.
One of my main goals on my podcast is to help people. I want it to be a safe environment where people feel welcomed to speak freely. That their experiences will not be judged or dismissed. I've had that happen to me and I know how it feels, especially when it's something terrifying or when you really need help and you're trusting that this person can help set you on the correct path to beat this obstacle in your life.
However, my mission to do this goes beyond my podcast. Being part of the paranormal community I believe that it is part of my job, part of my cause, to give people that same experience. That we as a group should be helping others to feel that same level of comfort. So when I hear that someone shared their personal experience, and someone, a paranormal investigator no less, told them bluntly that they are crazy, stupid, that their experience is impossible to happen, and insulted them on so many different levels, I'm not only shocked, I'm angry.
The paranormal is still unwelcomed in most conversations. It ranks up there with talking about your politics or your religion to strangers. It's one of those things people argue about, that they even disown family members over.
To begin with, things must be severe if you're asking a paranormal investigator to come to your house. You're asking a stranger to listen to you. You're asking a stranger to hear the scariest stories you've ever had happen to you, you're begging them for help. You're being vulnerable and putting yourself on the line. That takes courage and faith, and for someone to turn around and discount that to your face is horrible.
Now you can share your opinion. You can definitely say you didn't believe a story, that's you're right. But to discount that person and any and all stories relating to that experience means that you are discounting a large part of the entire paranormal and supernatural community.
As a paranormal investigator, even if you don't believe that an occurrence can happen, wouldn't it still be a good idea to investigate it? To see if you are wrong if there is really something else out there? Isn't that why most people get into this business?
I've listened to paranormal investigators who say they're skeptics. That upon arriving at a supposedly haunted location, they are arriving with the mindset that this may not be a haunting at all. That they are going to attempt to give a logical explanation for anything that they can, and only if they have an experience which breaks past the rules of logical explanation will they believe there is a haunting. In my opinion, I applaud that. I applaud being open enough to both be logical and understand that sometimes, there’s more going on here.
I see the same things going on about paranormal investigators and that a lot of people believe all of them are fake. They think the same thing about psychics or mediums, and sometimes that is the case. Sometimes people are only working in something for the money and whatever way they feel that they can get it, they will. It is also possible that a story may not be true. However, we all not only have the chance but an obligation to walk into any of these scenarios with the right mindset. We should be here to help one another, help anyone with their experiences, and try to help them better themselves and become more knowledgeable about whatever is going on in their lives, not to judge them and put them down. Think about how you would feel if that was done to you, and if it would bother you, then don't do it to another being.
I promised I'd share the other version of The Little Mermaid that I found so here it is! http://www.andersen.sdu.dk/vaerk/hersholt/TheLittleMermaid_e.html
Looking at the photos below it's really difficult for me to imagine Elisa being able to climb into one of these water tanks. But if she didn't do it herself how did she end up inside? Did she somehow end up on top of the structure next to them and accidentally fell in? I'm not sure if we will ever know.
I released the second true crime episode today which revolved around the case of Elisa Lam's Death. Below is the famous elevator video. According to several articles this was originally released by the police, however you'll notice there are times when the video seems sped up and other times where it appears slowed down. There's also a chunk of time missing in between segments of the video. Maybe there was a camera glitch, maybe that part of the episode was edited out intentionally for privacy reasons. Whatever the cause it does seem suspicious.