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Hi, it's Carter. Are you the type to fall down an Internet rabbit hole and not come up for hours? Well, you'll love Crimes of Reddit, a new Crime House original with Sabrina deannaroga and Alexis Linkletter. Every week, one host brings real true crime stories from Reddit, while the other reacts completely blind. No prep, no spoilers. Then they swap. It's the feeling of sending your group chat a thread at 2am that starts with you have to see this.
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Except.
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Except Sabrina and Alexis are in the chat with you. Follow Crimes of Reddit on Apple Podcasts and Spotify, or subscribe@c Crimesofreddit pod on YouTube. This is crime house. Every family tells a story about itself. It's the story of who you are, the where you came from and where you're headed. And for some families, that story isn't just something they tell. It becomes the whole point, the proof that all the sacrifices actually added up to something. For Bic and Han Pan, it was a good story. Maybe even a great one. They were two refugees who arrived in Canada with nothing but each other, and for 25 years they worked themselves to the bone, building a life out of long shifts and careful savings. At the center of it all was a daughter they were certain would grow up to be everything they never had the chance to be. That was their story, and they believed in it with everything they had. But every story has the parts a family chooses to tell and the parts it keeps to itself. And on the night of November 8, 2010, inside their own home, the story the Pans had spent a lifetime telling came apart. And what initially seemed like a senseless tragedy would turn out to be something far stranger and far harder to understand than anyone could have imagined. People's lives are like a story. There's a beginning, a middle, and an end. But you don't always know which part you're on. Sometimes the final chapter arrives far too soon, and we don't always get to know the real ending. I'm Carter Roy, and this is True Crime Stories, a Crime House original powered by Pave Studios. New episodes come out every Tuesday, Thursday and Friday, with Friday's episodes covering the cases that deserve a deeper look. Thank you for being part of the Crime House community. Please rate, review and follow the show and for early ad free access to every episode. Subscribe to Crime House. Plus you'll get part one and part two at the same time, plus exclusive bonus content. To join go to crimehouseplus.com or tap try free on the Murder True Crime Story show page on Apple Podcasts. Before we get started, a heads up this episode includes references to self harm. Please listen with care. This is the first of two episodes on the Pan family murder in Markham, Ontario. It's a story about how far two parents were willing to go to give their kids a better life and what happens when saying no doesn't seem like an option. Today I'll introduce you to Bic and Han Pan, the daughter they pinned all their dreams on and the night three armed men walked into their home. By the end, the detective sitting across from the one person not attacked would start to wonder if he was talking to a victim or a mastermind. Next time, we'll follow the investigation as it pulls apart a strike story almost a decade in the making, and we'll see how a quiet suburban family ended up at the center of one of Canada's most disturbing murder cases. All that and more coming up. If you've ever tried to find a psychiatrist, you know how frustrating it is to hear that there's a six month waiting list or that they don't take your insurance. It can make managing your mental health feel completely overwhelming. But Talk Iatry is changing that. Talk Iatry is a full service virtual psychiatry practice that helps you skip the long wait times and get real medical care in just a few days. Unlike regular talk therapy, Talk Iatry focuses on specialized psychiatric care. Their licensed clinicians take the time to truly understand your needs, offering professional diagnoses and ongoing medications management for conditions like adhd, anxiety, depression and more. You get a personalized treatment plan and see the same provider every time so you can actually measure your progress. Plus, Tochiatry accepts major insurers, making expert clinical care accessible and affordable. Head to toky.commtcs to complete the short assessment and get matched with an in network psychiatrist in just a few min. That's T-A-L-K-I-A T-R-Y.com MTCs imagine you're finally cleaning out your gutters when the smoke alarm starts blaring from inside. Smoke billows out of the window. ADT's affordable DIY systems are built for those moments where everything can change in a second. They're easy to set up, customizable, and help keep your home safe with 24. 7 monitoring. No one wants to feel unsafe at home, and with adt you you won't. ADT prioritizes your peace of mind with the most company operated monitoring centers in the industry. With the ADT plus app, you stay in control from virtually anywhere. Don't Wait to prepare for an emergency. When every second Counts, count on ADT, visit ADT.com or call 1-800-ADT ASAP. In 1979, a 26 year old man named Hue Han Pan came to the end of a journey that had nearly killed him. Han had grown up in Vietnam, a country left broken by decades of war. By the late 1970s, hundreds of thousands of people were trying to get out any way they could. Many of them did it by sea, packed onto small overloaded boats, gambling their lives on open water. When Canada announced it would take in refugees from Vietnam, Han took the chance. He crossed the South China Sea and arrived in Toronto with no money and barely a word of English. But he wasn't the only one making that trip. Around the same time, a woman in her early twenties named Bich Ha Luong was leaving Vietnam too. Like Han, she was an ethnic Chinese refugee. Like Han, she landed in Toronto in a community of people who had all started over from absolute zero. And they were far from alone. In the late 1970s and into the 1980s, Canada took in tens of thousands of refugees from Vietnam. When Bick and Hanh eventually crossed paths in Toronto through the the immigrant community, it turned out they had already had a connection back home in the city of strangers. They recognized each other, they reconnected, they fell in love, and before long, they got married. They both found work at Magna International, a big auto parts manufacturer in Aurora, a town north of the city. Hand trained as a tool and die maker, Bick worked on the line assembling car parts. The shifts were long, the work was physical, and the pay wasn't much. But they came from a world where hard work wasn't just a value people talked about. It was the only road up. And so they took it. They put their heads down, saved every dollar they could, and started building towards something. A big part of that something was family. On June 17, 1986, Bick gave birth to a baby girl. They named her Jennifer. Part of that was sentiment and part of it was strategy. An English name meant teachers and classmates wouldn't stumble over it and the kids wouldn't have one more thing setting them apart. Three years later, in 1989, the Pans had a son who they named Felix for the same reason. From the very beginning, Bick and Han had a clear picture of who their children were going to be. They had crossed an ocean and clawed their way into the middle class. Their kids were supposed to take everything they'd built and make something even bigger out of it. One day, Jennifer would be a pharmacist or a doctor. Felix would be an engineer. That wasn't a wish to han. It was closer to a plan. By the early 1990s, that plan was taking shape. The family had saved enough to buy a small house in Scarborough, a working class part of the Toronto area full of immigrant families doing exactly what the pans were. It wasn't fancy, but it was theirs. And it was where Jennifer grew up, living two lives at once. At school, she was a Canadian kid surrounded by Canadian friends and Canadian culture. At home, the family spoke Vietnamese and Cantonese and celebrated traditional holidays. For a child, that's a lot to balance. Early on, you're learning how to be one person in one room and a slightly different person in the next. You learn to read what each room wants from you and to give it to them. Mostly, though, Jennifer's childhood was about one achievement. Her parents enrolled her in piano lessons when she was just 4 years old, and she showed real promise. Almost immediately, a couple of years later, they put her on the ice and figure skating became the center of her world. They added more on top of that, swimming, Chinese martial arts. Around the age of 12, she was also taking music theory and harmony lessons, all while training at the rink most days of the week. Notice what all of those have in common? They're things you do alone. There's no team to share the credit with and no team to share the blame. When Jennifer did well, the win was hers alone. When she fell short, that landed on her alone too. For a long time, she mostly won. By elementary school, she had a case full of medals and trophies and a report card full of top marks. The shelves filled up with skating medals and ribbons from piano recitals. To her parents, she wasn't just a kid doing well. She was living proof that the plan was working. But there was a price for all of it, and Jennifer paid it quietly. Her days ran end to end, with almost no slack. Some nights during elementary school, she wouldn't get home from skating practice until 10pm Then she'd sit down and grind through homework until midnight before getting up the next morning and doing it all over again. None of this was really her choice. It was a life built around a future someone else had picked for her. And the pressure didn't stop at her own front door. At school, instead of running around at recession, Jennifer would spend her lunch hour helping out in the office, grading work for the younger kids and looking after them in the yard. One teacher would later remember that Jennifer didn't just see herself as the Teacher's pet. She saw herself as the school pet. She was the child who acted like a small adult, the one who couldn't quite let herself just be a kid. And there's something a little sad about that. Here was a 9 or 10 year old who had already absorbed the idea that her value was measured by how useful she was, how impressive she was, how much she could do for everyone else. That's a heavy weight to put on a child. And nobody around her seemed to be lifting any of it back off. And all of that pressure had a source. Jennifer's father set the tone. Han was the classic tiger dad, and he made sure Jennifer understood exactly how disappointed he'd be if she slipped. So she learned not to slip. And she learned not to complain about the cost of never slipping. Somewhere around the age of 10 or 11, that cost started showing up in a darker way. Jennifer began hurting herself. Small cuts hidden on her forearms, in places her sleeves would cover. And here's the part that's truly heartbreaking. No one in her life seemed to notice. She kept the smile up, kept the grades up, and kept the secret to herself. Still, there was tenderness in that house, and it came from bickering. When Han was too hard on the kids, Bic would often quietly knock on Jennifer's door afterward to check on her. Jennifer held onto those moments with her mom. Here's what makes it complicated. Though. Jennifer didn't hate everything about her life, she genuinely loved to skate. Out on the ice, despite her bad eyesight and her asthma, she felt something close to free, like the weight on her shoulders lifted for a few minutes at a time. Piano was the same kind of escape. She once described it as a sort of therapy. The one place she could put feelings she couldn't say out loud anywhere else. There was a real irony there. The activities her parents had picked to turn her into a winner had quietly become the only places she felt like herself. The skating wasn't about the Olympics for her. The piano wasn't about a recital. They were the two narrow windows where she got to stop performing and simply be. So picture this kid. She was gifted. She still loved parts of her life. And underneath it all, she was buckling under the strain. None of it showed to the people around her. She seemed completely fine. Then came the first real crack. In 1999, when she was 13, Jennifer was finishing the eighth grade. She had the grades. She had the reputation. And she fully expected to be named valedictorian and collect a stack of academic awards. On the way out. She got none of it. The valedictorian honor went to someone else. For a lot of kids, that's a rough afternoon you eventually shrug off. For Jennifer, it didn't land like a disappointment. It landed like a verdict. She had done everything right, exactly the way she'd been told to, and it still hadn't been enough. Imagine building your entire sense of self around being the best, then watching the prize go to somebody else. It's not just losing. It's losing the one thing you thought made you worth loving. But she didn't fall apart, at least not anywhere anyone could see. She buried it behind the cheerful masks she'd later describe, told everyone she was fine, and headed off to high school. And high school is where Jennifer seemed to finally exhale. At Mary Ward Catholic Secondary School, she came out of her shell. She joined the school band, where she played the flute. She wasn't the most popular kid in the building, but people liked her, and she moved easily between different crowds. For the first time, she had something close to an ordinary teenage social life. But there were limits. Hard ones. Hand's rules didn't loosen up just because Jennifer was getting older. No school dances, no parties, and no dating, period, until she was through university. On the rare occasion she was allowed to have a sleepover at a friend's house, her parents would drop her off late at night and pick her up early the next morning. It was almost like they were limiting how much the outside world could get to her. By the time Jennifer reached her early 20s, she had never been to a club, never been drunk, and never taken a vacation without her family. To Bic and Han, all of this was love. It was protection. To Jennifer and her friends, it felt like something closer to a cage. One former classmate put it plainly. She said the pans were absolutely controlling. And then the one thing Jennifer truly loved got taken away. Somewhere in high school, at figure skating practice, she tore a ligament in her knee. She recovered, but she was never the same skater again. Whatever dream she'd had of competing at the top level, maybe even one day chasing the 2010 Winter Olympics, were gone with a single bad landing. What hurt most wasn't losing the sport. It was the feeling that she'd let her parents down. One more thing she was supposed to deliver and couldn't. No one knew it yet, but that injury marked a turning point. Because from here on out, the gap between who Bick and Han believed their daughter was and who Jennifer actually was would only get wider. And eventually that gap would swallow the whole family. Have you noticed your sheets slipping off the corners lately, or maybe your pillows just feel flat and unsupportive. We tend to keep our bedding way longer than we should, and it slowly wears down until it starts messing with our sleep. You might think you need a whole new mattress, but the biggest difference actually comes from upgrading what touches your skin every night. That's why I finally switched our bed to bowl and branch before our sheets felt scratchy and trapped heat. But the moment I crawled into these organic cotton sheets, I could feel the quality. They are incredibly soft, perfectly breathable, and actually get softer with every single wash. We even added their waffle blanket and now the whole bed feels like a luxury hotel. If you're ready to stop compromising on your rest, you need to experience this difference. Upgrade your sleep with bowl and branch. Get 15% off your first order plus free shipping at boleandbranch.com crimehouse with code crimehouse that's boleandbranch b o l l a n d branch.com crimehouse code crimehouse to unlock 15% off exclusions apply I
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first met Quinetta when I started reaching out to women in prison. For years I thought I knew why
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she killed a man.
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But the more I dug in, the more I realized that nothing was quite so simple.
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I was just so scared that I was about to die. She did some things she shouldn't have did. She made a big mistake.
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What she Buried is available now on the Binge. Search for what she Buried wherever you get your podcasts to start listening today, subscribers to the Binge can listen to all episodes all at once, ad free.
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You know, recommendations can be great. Maybe someone recommended this podcast and here you are. But home projects are different. If a podcast isn't your thing, you lose a few minutes. If you hire your cousin's neighbor to mount your tv, you might end up with a lopsided screen and wall damage. Maybe I know a guy just isn't enough for your home. That's why thumbtack works. It matches you with top rated local pros with photos, reviews and credentials all in one place. For your next home project, try thumbtack. Hire the Right Pro Today. While Jennifer Pan was quietly coming apart on the inside, her parents were about to reach the proudest moment of their lives. Because by 2004, after 25 years of double shifts and careful saving, Bic and Han Pan had finally built the life they'd always wanted. They left Scarborough behind and bought a large home with a two car garage on a quiet residential street in Markham, a city Just north of Toronto with a big East Asian community, they had managed to put away around $200,000. Han drove a Mercedes Benz Bic drove a Lexus. For two people who'd come to Canada with literally nothing, that driveway was proof they'd made was a milestone decades in the making. And the whole thing had a centerpiece. Their daughter. That same year, 18 year old Jennifer told her parents she'd been accepted into the science program at Ryerson University in downtown Toronto and that she'd won a scholarship worth a few thousand dollars to go with. Wasn't Hand's first choice. He'd had his heart set on the University of Toronto's pharmacology program. But Jennifer had a plan. She'd spend two years studying science at Ryerson, keep her grades high, and then transfer into U of T. Han could live with that. He was proud of her. And to help her start strong, he set her up with money in her account co signed a credit card and bought her a new laptop. Jennifer had everything she needed to launch the life he'd always imagined for her. For the next few years, life inside the Pan house settled into a comfortable rhythm. Jennifer was still living at home, and as far as anyone could tell, she was thriving the way she always had. Every morning she packed her bag and headed downtown and and her parents assumed she was off to campus. In 2006, she brought home even bigger news. She'd been accepted into the University of Toronto's pharmacology program exactly the way she'd told them she would. Around the same time, she also asked for a little breathing room. She had a friend named Topaz who lived near the downtown campus, and the daily commute was long, sometimes 45 minutes each way. So Jennifer asked if she could stay at Topaz's place a few nights a week. Bick felt bad about all that travel and thought it was a good idea. The hard part was getting Han on board. But after some convincing, he agreed. It was a small loosening of the leash, and for the next couple of years it held. Jennifer split her time between home and downtown. And from where her parents stood, she was gliding toward a career in medicine. In 2008, the payoff arrived. Jennifer told her family she was graduating from U of T. For Bick and Han, this was the moment that they'd been waiting for. Their daughter was on her way to becoming a pharmacist. They wanted to be there, obviously, but Jennifer told them the graduating class was enormous and each student only got a single ticket. She didn't want to make one parent stay home while the other went. So she said she'd already given her ticket to a friend. Han was let down, but he understood. Afterward, he asked to at least see photos of her crossing the stage. Jennifer told him her friend had taken pictures but had already flown back home to Hong Kong with them. It was a little strange. No seat at the ceremony and now no photos either. But Han let it go. The diploma was what mattered, and what she did with it next was sounded perfect. Jennifer told her parents she'd landed a volunteer spot in the blood testing lab at Toronto's Hospital for Sick Children. It didn't pay, but it was exactly the kind of experience that turns into a real job in the field. She told them she worked Friday nights and weekends. Bic and Han couldn't have been prouder. Their daughter was giving back to her community and building her career at the same time. Han especially, felt like every sacrifice had paid off. He had bet his whole life on his daughter being exactly who she appeared to be. But that certainty was about to be tested in the worst way imaginable. The evening of November 8, 2010, began like any other 24 year old. Jennifer was still living at home in Markham, still spending some nights downtown and still, as far as her parents knew, volunteering at the hospital and working toward her future. Meanwhile, her younger brother Felix was away studying engineering at McMaster University. That night Jennifer was upstairs in her room watching tv. Han was reading the Vietnamese language news down the hall and went to bed early around 8:30, the way he usually did. Bik was out at her weekly line dancing class with a friend and a cousin. She got home around 9:30, tired, her feet aching. She changed into her pajamas, sank onto the couch on the main floor, and soaked her feet in a bed basin of water while the TV murmured in front of her. By every measure, a completely ordinary night. But a little after 10pm that all changed. Upstairs, Han woke to find a man standing over his bed in the dark, demanding to know where the money was. When Hahn tried to push back, the man pressed a gun against his head, told him to be quiet, and marched him out of the bedroom and toward the stairs. At the bottom of those stairs, Hand saw two more men. One of them had a gun trained on Bick, who was still sitting on the couch with her feet in the water, too frightened to move, she looked at her husband and asked him in Cantonese how these men had gotten inside. Han said he didn't know. The men kept demanding money. Han told them the truth. He had about $60 in his wallet, and that was it. The family didn't keep cash in the house. They'd actually been robbed once before, years earlier, and ever since, they had been careful not to keep anything valuable lying around. The men searched the main bedroom anyway, turning up some American bills Han and Bick had set aside. But it wasn't much, and the men didn't believe it was all there was. One of them hit Han in the back of the head, and he crashed to the floor. That was when Bick started to plead. She told the men they could do anything they wanted to her and her husband. Just please leave their daughter out of it. If the men heard her, they gave no sign. They were done searching the house, but they weren't done with Bick and Han. They took the two of them down to the basement and set them on a couch, side by side. There were no more questions now, no more demands for money. Han tried to keep himself calm. Bick couldn't. Then one of the men raised his gun and fired. The shots tore into both of them. Bick was hit several times. Hand took rounds to the face and the shoulder. One bullet shattered the bone near his eye and his neck and yet somehow just missed a major artery. He went down into a spreading pool of his own blood, and everything went dark upstairs. Jennifer would later tell police she heard the gunfire and called 911. She told the dispatcher that men had broken into the house and tied her up, but she'd managed to reach her phone and dial for help. Down in the basement, Han was still alive. But by the time he clawed his way back to consciousness on that basement floor, the men were gone and his wife was lying beside him, not moving. Somehow, with the wounds he had, Han started dragging himself toward the stairs. About half a minute into Jennifer's 911 call, the dispatcher picked up a sound in the background. It was Han. He had hauled himself up to the main floor, made it to the front door, staggered into the front yard, and collapsed. When paramedics arrived, they rushed him to the hospital, where doctors placed him into a medically induced coma in a desperate effort to keep him alive. Inside the house, officers found Jennifer bound near the top of the staircase. And down in the basement, they found Bick. Bick Hop. Han was pronounced dead at the scene. She was 53 years old. One of the last things she ever did was beg the men who murdered her to spare her daughter. Even at the end, she was thinking of her child. Now it fell to the police to hunt down her killers and find justice for Han, who was clinging to life in a hospital bed. They believed they already understood what had happened in that house. A robbery gone wrong. But the truth about what happened that night was far stranger and far more disturbing than anyone realized. And when the full picture finally emerged, it would leave everyone asking one question. Why?
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I've always dreamed of being able to order my coffee in Italian like a local, instead of just pointing at the menu and hoping for the best. There's something about speaking another language with real confidence that opens up a whole new world of experiences. That's why I'm so excited about Rosetta Stone Sapphire. It's their biggest launch in over a decade. It takes that research backed method we all know and trust and adds fresh, cutting edge features that make it easier than ever to go from knowing a few phrases to speaking naturally about the topics you actually care about. What I love is that you aren't just memorizing vocabulary lists. You learn entirely in your new language through visuals and audio, just like you did as a kid. One of my favorite new features is chat missions. It turns conversation practice into a game, putting you in real world scenarios like ordering at a restaurant or asking for directions and giving you missions to complete. You get real time feedback along the way so you build that confidence before you ever have to use your skills in the real world. If you want to take your language skills to the next level, don't wait to try Rosetta Stone Sapphire Listeners of this podcast can get 20% off their Rosetta Stone Sapphire subscription when they sign up today. This gets you access to Rosetta stone Sapphire in 25 languages. Visit RosettaStone.com Rs10 to redeem your 20% off. That's RosettaStone.com Rs10.
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In the early morning hours of November 9, 2010, the Pan family home in Markham became a crime scene. Bick was dead. Han was in a coma fighting for his life. And their daughter Jennifer was alive but shaken. At first glance, this looked like a home invasion gone horribly wrong. The kind of crime that terrifies a corporate quiet neighborhood. The early local headlines treated it exactly that way, warning residents that armed and dangerous men were on the loose. Investigators quickly launched a manhunt, searching for a crew who had shot two people in their own home and vanished. And Jennifer, the surviving daughter, was treated as exactly what she appeared to be. A traumatized woman witness who had barely made it out alive. But almost right away, the people working that scene started noticing things that didn't fit. Starting with the house itself. Nothing of real value was missing. Bix Lexus sat in a driveway with the keys right there by the front door. Easy to grab. There was no sign anyone had forced their way in. No smashed window, no broken lock, nothing. And what had the men actually taken? Cash. Jennifer said they'd grabbed a couple of thousand dollars from her, plus some American bills from her parents bedroom. That was it. They'd killed two people and walked out with pocket money. Beyond the basement, the house was almost untouched. The only real sign of violence on the main floor was the trail of blood Han had left behind when he dragged himself to the front door. Which led detectives to the hardest question of all. If several armed men came into that house and shot two people in the basement, why was the third person, the young woman upstairs, left completely unharmed? She didn't have so much as a bruise on her, nothing to suggest a struggle. Why would intruders go to the trouble of leaving behind a living, breathing witness who could describe them? None of it added up to a robbery. Robbers want things. They grab what's valuable and they leave fast. These men had walked past a luxury car with the keys sitting right there, ignored it, and instead spent their time marching two middle aged people down to a basement to execute them. That is not what a thief does. That's what a killer does. Suddenly, the robbery was starting to look less like a motive and more like a cover story. And in those first hours, only one person could give the authorities the answers they were looking for. Jennifer, the daughter who'd survived Detectives from York Regional Police sat down with her to walk through what had happened. She said there were three men, and she did her best to describe them. What they wore, how they sounded. She described one with a Caribbean accent and said he was the one who'd held her parents at gunpoint. She walked the detectives through the whole sequence, from the first sounds downstairs to the moment she managed to call for help. But one word in her account stuck out, describing the men who had just murdered her mother. She called them gentlemen. It was a jarring thing to say about the people who had destroyed her family.
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Family.
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But it wasn't just the word choice that struck the detectives. It was the way she carried herself. Jennifer was calm, strikingly calm for a young woman whose mother had just been shot to death a floor below her. At one point, talking about her mom, she seemed to start crying, and a detective handed her a tissue. He watched her dab at her eyes with it, and when she lowered the tissue, he noticed something. It was completely dry. Now, on its own, that proves nothing. People react to horror in wildly different ways. Some go numb, some can't cry at all, even when the grief is real and crushing. Any good investigator knows that. So they kept an open mind and they let Jennifer keep talking. But it's the kind of detail that sticks in a detective's memory. You file it away. You don't convict anyone on a dry tissue. You just notice it, and you wait to see whether the rest of the story holds up. Unfortunately for Jennifer, the more she explained, the more the story strained at the seams. I'll take the 911 call, Jennifer said. The men had tied her hands and bound her to the upstairs banister. So detectives asked the obvious question. How did she dial a phone? And how did she hold it up to her ear? With her hands tied behind her back, she showed them how she could reach the phone in her back pocket. But even then, the phone would have been a foot and a half from her head. When they asked how she could possibly hear the operator from there, she paused. And then she said she'd turned the volume all the way up. It was possible, barely, but it was the kind of answer that opens more questions than it closes. And these questions didn't stand alone. They piled onto everything else that refused to add up. Intruders who had come to rob the place but brought no bag, no box, nothing to carry the loot away. Intruders who, for reasons no one could explain, had left behind a living witness, one who could describe them in detail. Sitting across from Jennifer, the detectives felt the ground start to move. They'd walked into that room looking at a grieving daughter, the lone survivor of a massacre. Now a much darker possibility was creeping in around the edges. What if she wasn't just a witness? They wouldn't have to wonder for long. Because across town, against all odds, Hannah Han was still alive. For days, he lay in that medically induced coma while doctors worked to stabilize him. And the whole time, a question was waiting for him on the other side. Han was the only other person who had been awake in that house. He had seen the men. He'd been marched down his own staircase with a gun to his head. If anyone could fill in what had really happened that night, it was him. And when he finally woke up, what he remembered didn't line up with his daughter's story at all, because Han remembered something he couldn't explain away in the middle of the terror, with guns pointed at him and at his wife. He had seen Jennifer with one of the intruders, and she hadn't been struggling or pleading or frozen in fear. She'd been talking to him quietly, calmly, like the two of them already knew each other. To Han, lying in that hospital bed, having just lost his wife of decades, it pointed toward something almost too terrible to say out loud that these men hadn't stumbled into the wrong house. Someone had let them in. Someone had been waiting for them. And the only person left standing in that house when it was over was his own daughter. Thanks so much for listening. I'm Carter Roy and this is Murder True Crime Stories. Come back next time for part two on the Pan Family Murder and all the people it affected. Murder True Crime Stories is a Crime House original, powered by Page Studios. Here at Crime House, we want to thank each and every one of you for your support. If you like what you heard today, reach out on social media, rimehouse on TikTok and Instagram. Don't forget to rate, review and follow True Crime Stories wherever you get your podcasts. Your feedback truly makes a difference. And to enhance your Murder True Crime Stories listening experience, subscribe to Crime House plus on Apple Podcasts. You'll get both parts of every story dropped on Tuesday completely ad free. No waiting for part two plus ad free and early access to every show across Crime House and bonus episodes every month. To join, go to crimehouseplus.com or if you listen on Apple Podcasts, tap try free at the top of the Murder True Crime Stories page. We'll be back on Thursday. True Crime Stories is hosted by me, Carter Roy and is a Crime House original. Powered by Pave Studios, this episode was brought to life by the Murder True Crime Stories team. Max Cutler, Ron Shapiro, Alex Benedon, Natalie Pertzofsky, Lori Marinelli, Sarah Camp, Alyssa Fox, Nicolette Tavolaro and Russell Nash. Thank you for listening.
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Hi, it's Carter. Are you the type to fall down an Internet rabbit hole and not come up for hours? Well, you'll love Crimes of Reddit, a new crime house original with Sabrina Deanna Roga and Alexis Linkletter. Every week one host brings real true crime stories from Reddit while the other reacts completely blind. No prep, no spoilers. Then they swap. It's the feeling of sending your Group Chat, a thread at 2am that starts with you have to see this, except Sabrina and Alexis are in the chat with you. Follow Crimes of Reddit on Apple Podcasts and Spotify, or subscribe at Crimes of Reddit pod on YouTube.