Transcript
Corrine Vien (0:00)
Blink is intended for mature audiences as it discusses topics that can be upsetting, such as drug use, sexual assault, and emotional and physical violence. Content warnings for each episode are included in the Show Notes. Resources for drug addiction and domestic abuse can be found in the Show Notes and on our website blinkthepodcast.com the testimonies and opinions expressed by guests of the show are their own and do not necessarily reflect the views of myself or affiliates of this podcast. Any individuals mentioned in the episode are presumed innocent until proven guilty in the court of law unless explicitly stated otherwise. Imagine being told you have six months to live. You have a terminal, progressive disease that's eating away at the white matter of your brain. You'll soon lose your ability to speak, walk, feed yourself, and eventually you'll slip into a coma and die. No one has ever survived this. Surely you won't either. As the months progress, the doctor's warnings come to fruition. You slip into a pseudo coma, laying there in total darkness for months. The nurses chat about their bad dates in front of you, flip through television channels and discuss the certainty that your death will soon be here. They don't know that you can hear them. They're certain you're no longer in there. Friends and family visit less and less. Now your only visitor is your wife, a wife who is certain you'll never recover and who begins to whisper strange admissions in your ear. It is here, helpless in your hospital bed, that you realize what may have gotten you here in the first place. The scariest thing in your room is no longer the potential of dying, but rather the person sitting right next to you.
Jake Candle (2:41)
Let's get into this man.
Corrine Vien (2:44)
This is Jake Handle in the building where he and I first met. We lived in the same apartment complex in Boston. I had walked onto the elevator and asked how he was doing, a cordial hello to a neighbor I didn't know.
Jake Candle (2:58)
Not good.
Corrine Vien (3:00)
This sort of raw and honest answer describes Jake well. While Jake didn't feel great in that moment, what he was accomplishing was miraculous. For the first time in four years, Jake was standing, holding onto his walker, hands gripped and Armstrong strained. The problem being he was only supposed to go a short distance. And now he was stuck alone in the elevator. After helping him to his apartment and Jake repeating that I saved him, which is certainly a hyperbole, we parted ways. The next time we spoke was two months later and Jake told me his story. A story involving drug deals, death sentences, medical miracles, and more than one suspected murder attempt. A story of survival, with Jake being the only person in the world to ever make it out alive. What happened to Jake was so astonishing, it felt implausible. Every detail trumped the next. And rarely could I predict what was coming. It felt like a Jordan Peele movie. And I just couldn't understand how Jake was now sitting here drinking beers with me on our rooftop and describing his life events with such nonchalance. If what Jake was telling me was true, this could alter the medical world as we know it, change people's lives forever, and unlock the answers to phenomena we don't have, explanations for, things we deem supernatural. I couldn't understand how no one was talking about this, how Jake's face wasn't plastered on the COVID of every medical journal, and how his inbox wasn't flooded with inquiries from true crime documentarists. But his story is convoluted. The timeline of events is a bit of a complex web, and the few journalists who have spoken to Jake in the past have sometimes struggled to follow the story. But I needed to know more. And so for the following months, I set out seeking answers. The first question I needed to answer was, how did Jake get here in the first place? This is blank. I'm your host, Corrine Vien.