B (2:34)

I'm Annie. I would like to tell you about my cousin Michael. We were a few months from being the same age because of family drama we're not going to get into. We were close and sometimes lived in the same house. Closer to siblings than cousins really. We were both pretty tough. Got along really well. Big guy. You could place him in front of an average refrigerator and he would just disappear. Big guy. I'm sure you get the picture. Strong as a horse. He won national arm wrestling contest. Rated number one tree climber in the country. Several years in a Row. He was so proud of himself. Could easily fight a bear, I think. Just incredibly strong. And from the time we were little, not even old enough to go to school, he had a bad temper. I mean, we would be laughing and playing and joking and having fun. One moment and just like a drop of a hat, he was pissed. Punching and biting and screaming and just wow, what a temper. But when he wasn't in a temper, he was kind. Family first. Always had this giggle. It was the sweetest giggle. It just made the world go away. No matter what was going on. As we got older, we stayed pretty close. I went to his wedding, he went to mine. Three times. I was working for a company, driving truck. Mike needed a job. He was a truck driver as well. So I thought, what the heck? Talked to the owner of the company and said, hey, he'd be a good hire, a good worker. He's got a bit of a temper, but he's got great work ethic and he knows how to be loyal. Just gotta watch out for that temper. The boss said, okay. Up until this point, Mike and I were very close. We visited each other often. Every time we saw each other. Didn't matter if we were in a bar, at a family reunion, grocery store, anywhere. We gave each other a big old hug and said, I love you. But after I got him a job, my goodness, we saw each other daily. It got to the point where we were hanging out on the weekends almost every weekend, him and his wife. I had a small shooting range. And one thing we all had in common was we liked to shoot. We found it relaxing. If they didn't come to my house, I would go to their house for a bonfire or a cookout or whatever. And we were close. Even Mike's wife and I were starting to get pretty close. Got to the point where we too would give each other a hug and say, I love you. This was Mike's third marriage. He'd had children previously with his first and second wife. They were good kids. I call them kids, but they're not kids anymore. Far cry from it. They all got his work ethic, made sure of it. He was a firm but always there dad. A good man, well rounded, except for that temperature. When he was mad, he was like a freight train. He also liked alcohol too much. And when he got drunk, he was a trained wreck. Just terrible. Me, violent, angry, and it didn't matter what you did. His anger was perpetual. And the drunker he got, the worse it got. It's always been that way since we were teenagers. And we discovered booze and drugs and all that, but we had mutual respect. I wouldn't call it fear, but neither one of us is willing to cross the other. We were at a bonfire at Mike's house, and he was a little tipsy. And I asked him, mike, why are you so angry? Where's all this hurt and anger come from? And in a rare moment, he opened up to me and he said, dad was mean. I hated how he treated my mother. I hated how he was always angry. I hated my father. From as early a time as I can remember, I hate my father. Hearing those words come from Michael was shocking, heartbreaking. Mike was kind, but not soft. He rarely opened up. In fact, I'll be completely honest with you, it was so rare that it was shocking when he did. To hear him talk about how much he hated his father, how much he loved his mother just reminded me of his attitude of family first all the time. That's where it stemmed from. Protecting his mother, protecting his siblings against a man he had no power against. Most of us know what it's like to be against someone who has power over you. Real, true power, if you'll help us. Well, shortly after I got Mike the job, maybe six months or so, I've been listening to podcasts. I love podcasts. They get you through the hard times, help you stay grounded. A particular podcast mentioned transgender people, and I did a deep dive into transgender. I always knew I was different. I knew I was a little girl before even going to kindergarten, but I was the only one who believed it. So I grew up trying to prove how masculine I was and how strong I was in many ways. Like Michael, as soon as I realized that I was transgender, I immediately thought, oh, I'm going to tell everybody, hey, I'm transgender. Don't know what that's going to look like. Don't know if there's going to be any changes at all. Of course, I told my fiance and my parents and siblings. But Mike was so supportive. Unbelievable supportive. In fact, to be perfectly honest, I got a lot of support. Everybody I talked to was supportive. In fact, some of them said, well, we kind of knew that, but all of them had, I love you no matter what, but you're probably going to go to hell. Or, but I don't agree with it. A lot of buts, except for one person, Mike. When I told him, he simply said, I love you. No, but none. We saw each other every day. We were both truck drivers. We were hauling logs and lumber. So we were home every day in the Mornings we gave each other a hug, said, hey, have a great day. I love you. At the end of the day, we gave each other a hug. See you tomorrow. I love you. We were really close. Mike started saying things like, annie, you're the bestest. I love you more than everybody. Didn't think anything of it just seemed like Mike. Me and Mike maybe a little more soft. But I chalked that up to the conversation about his father. Hoping o that must have helped him a little bit. Little kaffarsis. And as the weeks went by, it just kept getting more and more, you're the bestest. Then he started coming over to the house on the weekend without his wife, which I thought was odd, but it was fine. It was. I don't know. A couple months later, Mike was drinking. We were all drinking, really, at a bonfire at his house. But he drank too much and his stepson did something he didn't like. And Mike lost his temper. He just beat the crap out of that poor guy. A kid, 20ish, 21. I don't know how old he was. Broke his jaw, put him in a hospital for a couple weeks. I mean, he really messed him up. It was also the first time that Mike and I clashed because I tried to get between the two of them and it was pointless. I couldn't do anything. He overpowered me by a lot. But the boy healed. Mike and I went on as if nothing happened. Fast forward a couple months. Mike and his wife and grandchildren were putting up the Christmas decorations. And Mike kept getting drunker and drunker, and for no reason. As far as I know, he lost his temper, pushed her around, pushed the grandkids around, and he told her that he was coming to my house and he was gonna kill me. I don't think they really believed him because nobody called me and warned me. Nobody called me and said, hey, Mike's real mad, real drunk and he's heading your way, says he's going to kill you. Nothing. No warning. Earlier that day, I was at home taking a rare day off, doing some me time, just taking care of myself. Had the house cleaned up almost flawlessly. I had just gotten some new candles. Oh, how much I love candles. Don't get me started. The house just smelled like apple pie, and I was really enjoying the afternoon. But I got a phone call from a friend. I always called him a kid, though. He's in his early 20s at the time. Asked me if he could borrow some money, and I said, no problem, come on over, I'll give you some money to you can just pay me back when you can. So he came over. It was about 8 o' clock in the evening when he got there. Brought a friend with him. I'd never met him before. I didn't know who he was. But he was friendly enough, polite, well mannered. He'd only been there maybe five minutes or so when the front door of the house just crashed in. Mike came storming through the door, storming down the hallway. He came in there like a tornado. He was angry and drunk, a madman. Screaming and yelling about how terrible his life is, how terrible he's wife is. He's got himself a job in Buffalo and he's going to leave her and disappear in the morning. Nobody's going to know except for me. Because I am the bestest. Annie is the bestest. I love you, Annie. You're the bestest. I love you more than anybody. I've been hearing words like that from him for a couple months, but they didn't trigger anything inside me. He's my cousin. Thought nothing of it. A few minutes had gone by and he had turned his attention to one of the kids that were there and said here. Gave him his phone and told the guy to call my wife and tell her how she's a bitch and she's awful and tell her this and tell her that. Of course, this fellow had never met Mike before. As far as that goes, he never met me. He's in a strange house with strange people and a guy threatening to beat the crap out of him if he doesn't repeat what he says word for word. I can just imagine what this poor guy was going through and how uncomfortable he was telling a woman he never met that she was a. And she was gonna. I can't even repeat these things. Anyways, a few more minutes had gone by with that and Mike was actually ready to beat this guy up because he wasn't repeating his words. And I knew that if I didn't do something, Mike would beat him up. So I made the two fellows leave. I said, you just gotta get out of here. This is gonna get worse. And they did. Thank goodness. No violence yet. But at that moment I started feeling like this doesn't feel right. This feels worse than normal. I've talked Mike down so many times in the past, but it just didn't feel right. I did get him to sit down, calm down a little bit. He told me that he left the house and didn't have any snuff and didn't bring his wallet, had no money to go get Any. And I thought, well, this is a good time to get away from him. Let him cool down a little bit. So I said, okay, Mike, I'll run downtown and get it for you. This is Thanksgiving, Northwest Pennsylvania. Really cold. The store was only five or so minutes away. So I got his snuff and went back to the house, hoping that he was calmed down a little. But I always had brandy or scotch or something at the house. This happened to be a bottle of brandy there, hadn't even been opened yet. By the time I got to the house, he had drank half of that brandy. It wasn't the little bottle. It was a big one. So he was now no longer drunk, but absolutely wasted, more angry. At this point, I thought, oh, I need to keep my wits about me. There's no buffer here. He tried to make me drink, but I just take a sip out of the glass and spit it back in. He was too drunk to notice. Mike would flare up and calm down and flare up and calm down. And he had calmed down for a minute or two and said, annie, I love you more than anything. You're the bestest. You're the bestest. And something clicked. I started to wonder if he meant cousin, I love you. If he did mean something else. It wasn't. But a few minutes later, he started to try and sexually assault me. Kissing me, touching my breast. He didn't mean, cousin, I love you. He meant something different. I couldn't return those feelings. He jumped up, told me he was gonna fuck me whether I wanted to or not. And I stood up and I said, no, my bet's not gonna happen. And he started to wobble from the drunkenness, and he tipped back a little bit. At first, I had reached out to grab him to keep him from falling, but instead, instincts kicked in and I pushed him down. He laid there for a few minutes, and I thought, oh, he's calm. So I went over and tapped his cheeks. Hey, Mike, stay down. Calm down. I'll get your blanket. You can sleep it off on the couch. He got up and he gave that giggle, that sweet, fun giggle that just made the world go away. And I don't know what happened. Just like some sort of dark magic. I don't know what it was, but his eyes changed, his facial features changed. He didn't even look like the same person. They said that hurt and then turned into a much worse fight. Seemed like hours of resisting, pushing, fighting. He was so much stronger than myself, half his size, but I was pretty quick and was managing. Finally, I got him to calm down again, I said, I gotta go to the bathroom. So I went back to the bathroom. My intention was to get him a blanket and a pillow. I was so scared. I knew this was a fight I couldn't win. I didn't know what to do. I just sat in the bathroom for I don't know how long. I felt so defeated. My hands were shaking. Actually, my soul was shaking. I couldn't call anybody because Mike wouldn't let me have my telephone. I'd forgotten all about the blanket pillow. Left the bathroom. And there was a hallway between all the bathroom and the kitchen. He jumped up, met me halfway in the hallway. Wrapped his shirt around me. Forcing me, trying to kiss me. Tied me up with his shirt, or tried to. I was resisting with all I had. But I was just getting so tired. I didn't know what to do. I could get out of it. Managed to squeeze by him, sit down at the table. And I made myself as small as I could. He sat down in front of me and started talking again. He still didn't look like himself, but he was acting a little bit calmer. I don't know how much time went by, but he stood up, pulled his pants down. Tried to force me to perform oral sex on him. Well, I resisted. I pushed him away. I did everything I could to make that stop. And he ended up behind me. Big old meaty hands wrapped around my neck. And he began to choke me. I love you, Annie. I couldn't say anything. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't take air in. I couldn't get words out. I didn't know what to do in my mind. I put my hands up. I said, oh, God, what do I do? I'm in trouble here. Oh, God, what do I do? It felt like the room was closing in on me. Shadows. The walls were being replaced by her shadows. Mike's hands are so tight. I just can't breathe. I feel like any minute now I'm just gonna pass out. And if I do, I'm never gonna wake up again. I'm. I opened my eyes up and I looked it on the table. There was a brandy bottle. Instinctively, I picked it up and I started swinging it over my shoulder. I could feel the bottle hitting him. I knew I was hitting him. I was so weak from not breathing. I knew I was making contact, but it wasn't doing any good. I switched hands, started swinging over the other shoulder. I don't know how many times, six or a dozen. Finally, I felt his grip. I stood up. I couldn't walk. I couldn't speak. I just can't. I need a moment to breathe. I don't know how much time went by. I finally realized that Mike was on his hands and knees, bleeding all over the place. And he looked at me and said, annie, you hurt me. I said, mike, don't get up. No, Mike, don't, don't. You gotta stop. It's time to leave. But he got up and blood. The blood was everywhere. I was exhausted from fighting, from a lack of oxygen. I felt so helpless. My hands, my knees were just shaking so bad. I just had no fight left in me. So I turned around and ran. I ran into my bedroom and I locked the door. I heard things smashing, glass smashing and furniture being thrown. And it was horrifying. And he was screaming, I'm gonna kill you. I'm gonna kill you. Where are you? And I was unable to do anything about it. Here I am, hiding, sitting cross legged on my bed, just trying to be invisible, wishing, praying that it would all stop. And it did. Just like that. It got quiet. I couldn't hear him. I wasn't saying anything. I didn't know what was happening. But I wasn't going to get up. I wasn't going to speak. Gosh, I was trying to not breathe. I was holding my breath as long as I could. He had left. But he came back just as angry, just as mean. Yelling. He started beating on the door. I'm gonna kill you. And I'm gonna you the door. And the wall came in and out, in and out. His strength was incredible. I thought, there's no way that door's gonna hold up. It looks like the wall is gonna collapse. At this point, I was holding my breath. When I could, I was being quiet and I didn't know what to do. And the door was coming in and out and in and out like it was breathing. I'm gonna kill you. I'm afraid. Just don't know what to do. I opened up the nightstand and I got out my pistol and I fired a couple warning shots into the closet. And he stopped for a second. But then it got worse. Now I could not only see the walls and the door coming towards me, but I could hear they are collapsing. So I fired some more shots into the closet, screaming, mike, you've got to go home. Get in your truck and leave. You're not welcome here. Get out. He wasn't doing any good. Finally, the door broke and there was Mike standing in the door, grinning. I said, mike, don't. Don't make me Shoot you, please. But he did. I shot him. He said, oh, God. And he just dropped. I was afraid to breathe, looking at Mike lying there in the door, mostly naked. Got his pants on and that's it. Eventually, I got up and I walked past him. There's a shotgun right there beside him. I didn't know if he was injured or dead, but I got the courage up and I walked past him. I walked out to the kitchen. This is Thanksgiving, Northwest Pennsylvania. The windows are smashed out. It's extremely cold. I felt nothing. I was barefooted, walking through glass. I knew it should hurt. I felt nothing. I knew I should be cold, but I didn't feel cold. My hands and knees were shaking, but I just felt numb. I picked up my phone and I called 91 1. When the operator came on, I said, I shot my cousin. I think he may be dead. I don't know how long I was on the phone with the operator. 30 minutes maybe. Kept the conversation simple. It kept me calm. At some point, I walked across more glass, found myself in the living room, sitting on the couch. I had no idea how I even got there. The operator said, the police are there. You need to step outside, he said, to make sure to leave the gun there. It was on the kitchen table. And I walked outside through the glass, stepped out into snow and cold. I knew I should be hurt, but I found nothing. I saw the flashlights coming up the driveway. They're screaming, put the gun down. Put the gun down. I was so beyond frightened. This is not over. I had no gun. So I just set the phone down and they approached me and put me in handcuffs and forced me to sit down on the porch in the snow while they went inside. And that's all I remember from there.

A (32:30)

Hey, folks, it's Kevin here. We're going to take a quick break and I want to remind you it would be impossible to bring you stories like Annie's without your support. You can join our patreon@patreon.com risk or send a one time donation to PayPal. Me RiskShow

B (32:53)

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A (33:08)

It's tax season and at LifeLock we know you're tired of numbers, but here's a big one you need to hear.

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B (33:37)

Terms apply Eczema is unpredictable, but you can flare less with epglis, a once monthly treatment for moderate to severe eczema after an initial four month or longer dosing phase. About four in 10 people taking Eglis achieved itch relief and clear or almost clear skin at 16 weeks. And most of those people maintain skin that's still more clear at one year with monthly dosing.

A (33:58)

Hempclus Lebrecizumab LBKZ, a 250mg per 2ml injection, is a prescription medicine used to treat adults and children 12 years of age and older who weigh at least 88 pounds or 40 kilograms with moderate to severe eczema, also called atopic dermatitis, that is not well controlled with prescription therapies used on the skin or topicals, or who cannot use topical therapies. EBGLIS can be used with or without topical corticosteroids. Don't use if you're allergic to ebglis. Allergic reactions can occur that can be severe. Eye problems can occur. Tell your doctor if you have new or worsening eye problems. You should not receive a live vaccine when treated with EGLIS before starting F gliss. Tell your doctor if you have a parasitic infection.

B (34:32)

Ask your doctor about eglis and visit evglis.lilly.com or call 1-800-LilyRx or 1-800-545-5979. I found myself chained to a bench in a police station. I don't know how long I'd been there. Later I found out that I had called the 911 operator right around midnight. But the next thing I remembered was the sun coming through the window. It was as if I didn't exist. Reality had warped to the point where I had somehow crawled inside myself and wasn't existing. But when the sun came in the window, it brought me to reality. Or, I don't know. I was chained to this steel bench. And it hit me. I killed my cousin. All I could do was cry. All I could think of is his children, his wife, his mom. What am I gonna say to my aunt? What is this gonna do to our family? What am I gonna say? Finally, two detectives came in and took me To a small room and interviewed me. I told them everything I could remember. I gave them all the details I could think, left nothing out. And then they took me back to my bench and chained me down again. All I could do was sit there and cry. It felt like I was going to drown the whole world in my own tears. I don't know how much time went by. Later on, I found out it had been about 18 hours when the police two officers came to my bench and said that there was a team of investigators at the house and they have confirmed everything I've said. And the lead officer said, I am so sorry for what you're going through. But our officers have decided, Our team has decided that your actions were justified. Your story matches the evidence in so many words. They said, we're going to let you go home. He informed me it would be a few more hours. We had to do some more stuff at the house. And a photographer had to come in, take photos, and they would have to keep my clothes. And if I had someone I could call to bring me some clothes and take me home. All I could think of was my sweet mom. What am I gonna say to her? How am I going to explain this? So I gave in. Mom's number, as promised. A few more hours went by. The photographer got there and humiliating, But I had to strip down. I hadn't had any surgeries yet, but I had fully developed breast. The humiliation of the pictures, measurements of the bruises, and standing there naked and cold. Finally, she finished up and they gave me this aluminum foil blanket of sorts to cover myself. They brought me some clothes in. I got dressed. By this time, several officers had come in and with great deal of compassion, said, I'm sorry you're going to go through this. And even a few thanked me. They took me to the door, and when the door opened up, several of my family members were there. But the first one to come to me was Michael's brother, Randy. He grabbed me in a hug and he said, I know what happened. I know Mike's temper. I thought it was gonna collapse. I was crying so hard. And my cousin Susan and my cousin Kern, my sister Stephanie and my brother Sean, they all surrounded me in hugs. And I thought I was going to drown. They took me to my mom and dad's house. We went in the house and Mike's mother, thank goodness, had just left. I was told that she had told everybody that she knew Mike was drunk and that his temper had gotten carried away. And I had to do what I had to do. When I walked into the house. I could feel. I could feel the sorrow and the compassion of my family. I don't know how many were there. A tender or more. It was thick in the air. I sat down on a chair. My sweet mom kneeled down. She gave me a hug. She was sobbing and I was sobbing. But her perfume just smelled like heaven. I was shaking. I was afraid to speak. Eventually, my brother took me to his house in New York. I called the doctor and explained what happened. Or I tried to explain, but I couldn't get through it. So my brother talked to the doctor and he had prescribed me some medicine to help me calm down and even sleep. For five days. I couldn't go 15 minutes without crying, just bursting. Five days later I got a call from the police asking me to come in and do a second interview. I didn't have a car there. It was at home. My brother called off work and gave me a ride to the police station to do this interview. At 10 o' clock at night. We're in that same small room. And they proceeded to ask me questions over and over, the same questions. It had to have been an hour or more. And one of them started yelling. His demeanor of being friendly and helpful completely changed. He got aggressive and screaming and yelling, saying, we know you murdered your cousin. We know you planned this out. We know that you're a cold hearted killer. I couldn't move. I could barely breathe. The room was spinning around me. Every muscle in my body was shaking. I could only speak one word. No. I just lost my sense of reality. Finally they stood up and left the room. Maybe an hour or so. They came back into the room and said that the district attorney has been watching this interview and you are being charged with first degree murder. I thought I was gonna faint. None of this made any sense. I hadn't committed a crime. I survived one. How could this be happening? They put handcuffs on me and put me into the car. Must have been early morning, still dark out. My body was wracked in pain from the shaking. I couldn't speak. I just sat in the car staring out the window. I had no idea where I was, which was odd. I knew the the whole area. I just lost touch with reality once again. Seemed like forever. And I finally turned to the officer sitting beside me and I asked him, are you taking me to jail? He said, yes. Just darkness out the window. Finally we pulled into a building where there was light and the big door shut behind the car. The officers got out and they put their weapons in some kind of locker and I was escorted into a man's prison for first degree murder. I was stripped of my clothing, searched. I was numb. I knew I was afraid, but I couldn't feel it. Helpless. The next thing I remember was hearing the heavy door close. Here I was in a 8 by 10 concrete cell with a solid door, no way of seeing out. I had no idea whether it was day or night, if I'd been there days or weeks. I had no human contact, no clothes. I was in that room for close to two months. To describe solitary confinement long term. I saw things I knew wasn't real. I had conversations with people that my mind knew they weren't real. But it felt real. Genuine conversations. Some with Michael, some with other friends and family. Even magical creatures. It felt like madness. I knew what was going on around me, but none of it was real. Just the four walls, a toilet attached to a sink and a concrete bed and a blanket. I don't know how many weeks I've been there, but eventually they allowed me to have a book. I asked if I could write a letter or make a phone call. No, you were on suicide watch. This was my first conversation and I don't know how many weeks. I told them I'm not suicidal, but they assumed I was. And then they were afraid I would kill myself if I had a pencil or a pen. Wasn't allowed to receive letters. No contact. Just a short conversation with a guard. A shower every week. Still didn't know how long they'd been there. It felt like years. There was no way of knowing. The madness, the sheer incredible lack of reality. Just devastating. Eventually they said I would be going to general population anyways. I was never released in the general population. It put me in a part of the prison, a block special maximum security. Four serial killers and serial rapists and pedophiles. Because I was transgender, they labeled me as a pedophile. My first cell was with a serial killer who targeted transgender women. Every day was a fight to stay alive. My facial features had been more feminine. I had breasts. Here I was in a maximum security prison for men. I learned how to fight my first year or so in prison. I devoted to being the absolute worst prisoner I could be. And I did pretty good. I resisted everything. Was thrown into solitary confinement several more times for bad behavior. But I made a shift. Most people don't know this, but prisons are now used to house people with mental illness because there's nowhere else for them to go. So they just charge him with a cry and throw them in prison, out of sight, out of mind. I was in there with monsters, but I was also in there with people who had no clue where they were or why they were there. Turned out there were multiple men in there with dementia. My last six months in there, I decided I wasn't gonna stand by and watch this happen anymore. So I devoted most of my waking time to taking care of dementia patients, basically mentally ill people. There wasn't much I could do, but I did all I could. And I started teaching young men how to pass the CDL test so that they could come out of prison, get a commercial driver's license and start a career, improve their lives. I started getting up in the morning and giving out hugs to cold hearted killers, telling some terrible people that they were worth loving. And I stand by that. I have met people that weren't worth loving in there, but most of them were. And when I went to bed, I handed out hugs every morning, every night, and several throughout the day. I decided I was no longer going to be bitter and angry. Finally, I got a date in court. The district attorney that charged me with first degree murder, my lawyer told me, was running to be the judge, and his platform was no man will use a woman's bathroom in this county. We knew I was arrested not because I committed a crime, but because I was transgender. The district attorney, the new one, said it would be four years at least, before she was ready for trial. The whole building started to spin. I don't know if I passed out, but I felt like I was going to. There was no way I was going to survive in that prison for another four years. I'd constantly been denied bail or a bond. The judge was angry. The judge said that Ms. Carnreich clearly was justified. And I looked at the district attorney to see her response, and she just shrugged her shoulders and said, I am prepared to offer a deal. A bargain. A plea bargain, I guess it's called. If Ms. Karnreich is willing to plead, no contest means I would agree to not say I'm guilty, but not say I'm innocent either. So if I do that, she would agree to me being released. 18 months, time served. She meant I only had a couple more months, three more months to go if I took the deal. I didn't want to, but I knew I wasn't going to make it four more years. My attorney insisted that he couldn't get me a trial any faster and that because we're in a transgender aggressive county, he didn't think he could win, didn't think he could get 12 people from the county who didn't hate me because I existed. So I took the deal. Nobody explained to me that I was now a convicted murderer of a coworker. Last word to the day I was to be released. 18 months minus one day. I stepped outside and felt the sunshine on my skin for the first time in one and a half years. Smelled the outside. At that moment, it felt like the first time ever, my first time of truly, truly sensing everything that's going on around me. Outside. I looked across the park and not. And I saw my sister and my mom and they came running in, hugs, crying. When we got done with the hugging, my sister gave me an apple. I don't know how to describe that feeling. I bit into the apple and it was crispy, sweet, juicy. And the smells surrounding me and the birds singing, it just felt like I had just been born. It was amazing. I was flooded for the first time in a very long time with emotions that weren't fear, emotions that weren't anger, just emotions of pure joy. From there, I took a few days just to take it all in. I was staying with my parents in their basement, just taking it in. Started looking for a job. After a week or so, it was one rejection after another. Oh, we don't do transgender people. We don't hire felons. You killed a co worker. Why would we hire you? We lived in a small town. Everybody knew I was, I don't know, maybe a thousand job applications. I finally got an interview. I went in feeling confident. I have 30 years of driving experience, truck driver, most of my adult life. Before the interview started, the person giving the interview came up to me and said, we're going to have to ask you to leave. We don't want co working, killing freaks working here. I was speechless, crushed, and angry. At this point, I felt like I had nothing to offer this world. Living in my parents basement for six months I've been doing applications, horrible rejections from interviews in towns miles away from where I was. I couldn't help my parents financially. I couldn't do anything. I would pick up an odd job, fixing a car or painting a house, but it wasn't enough. What am I gonna do? I can't survive in this world. And I've decided that I would leave it on my terms. I told my mom what I was going to do and she asked me if I would at least go talk to somebody. And I did. They called mental health crisis and told me that if I would go sign myself into the mental hospital, that I would receive the help I needed. So I drove myself to the hospital. I got in there and they informed me that I would have to give up my phone and my personal belongings and my personal clothing, and I would be locked into a room alone. That was enough. I could not bear it. I told him I was leaving. He said no. They tried to stop me. I avoided violence, but I did have to push some people out of the way, and I escaped. I drove to a friend's house three counties away. Now I'm a fugitive. I finally got through to a police officer who was willing to hear what I had to say. And I told him I was not suicidal. I was for a few days, but I'm not now. I'm fine. I'll sign any papers you want, but I'm not going into that hospital. I'm not going to be confined ever again. Couldn't face that madness. And he agreed. It was the same day that he agreed. We got a phone call. Dad was a truck driver. He'd been driving for 62 years. At that point, we got a phone call from his boss. Dad had gotten confused out on the road down in Florida with a load, and he turned the semi around on the interstate. It started going the wrong way. Terrifying. It was 2 o' clock in the morning, so nobody was hurt. Luckily, there was a police officer that watched the whole thing happen. They pulled him over, went up to the truck and asked him if he was okay, and he said he was confused. The officer asked him, is there anyone else in the truck? He said, yeah, Annie and my wife were in the truck, meaning me and my mom, of course. We weren't. We were in Pennsylvania. They got him home the very next day, took him to the doctor. He had the onset of dementia that evening. His boss had called just to check on dad. Dad wouldn't be working there anymore, of course, because he would be losing his driver's license. And then he said, I ever heard that you know how to drive a truck? I said, yes, sir, I do. I can back one through a keyhole. Millions of miles vetted, somewhere around 2 million miles of experience. He said, well, why don't you come in tomorrow? We'll put you to work. Just like that. I had a job. Fantastic. Meanwhile, I've been talking to a guy on Facebook. Just casual conversation. He messaged me asking me if I wanted to go to a transgender event. It was an overnight event. I told him I would like to go, but there was no way at this point I would be able to afford it. And he said, well, why don't we just split the motel? You'll be able to afford it. I was a little shocked. I'd only been speaking with him for a week at most. I said, well, what are your intentions? He said, oh, I just need to save some money. So I agreed to it. But first we would have to meet, go out to dinner at a public place. I was concerned. I'm a transgender woman. I'd already had several attempts on my life because of it. So we met. I'd never been with a man. I was so nervous. I thought, oh, this will be my first one night stand. I pulled into the parking lot, I was very, very nervous. Several times I thought about chickening out. But I pulled in and I saw him and I was immediately disarmed. So many people at this point in my life had just tried to harm me. But when I saw Harold standing there by his pickup truck, he's overweight, he's very handsome. I already knew he was kind hearted, but then I saw that he had a disability and I just thought, what an incredibly courageous man. He didn't tell me he had a disability. I just know he's gonna be gentle. And he was. We went to a Mexican restaurant and just had the most wonderful meal I'd ever eaten. My goodness, what a wonderful man. Fast forward a couple weeks. I had to go to the gas station to pick up a few things and there was a restaurant attached to it. So I thought I'd get some lunch on my way to work. And I turned around in the store and there's a man with a gun. I recognized him. I knew where he was, Michael's son. I only put my head down. I didn't know what to say. What could I say? There's cameras. He wasn't gonna shoot me, but I knew if I stepped out that door, he was gonna beat the heaven crap out of me. So I went into the restaurant and I told them I left my phone in the car and I need to use a phone. There's a man out there who wants dumiar. I start crying. A young man, big guy, said, don't worry, I'll walk you to your car. And he did. And he stood there until the doors were locked and the car was running, staring him in the eyes the whole time. I drove away. I made sure I wasn't being followed. And I went to work. I come home that weekend and when I woke up in the morning at my parents house, I went outside to smoke a cigarette and there was a post. It Note on the windshield of the car. And it said if I didn't leave town, they were going to burn the house down with my parents and son and myself in it. I remember reading it, and at first I wasn't sure it was real. Took me a few minutes to grasp what was going on. I had no idea what to do. I had nowhere to go. I couldn't tell my parents. They would be in panic. The neighborhood had already passed around a petition to get me out of their neighborhood. Very public one. But now I'm being threatened. My family is being threatened. They're already afraid of me because of what happened, because all the rumors and the newspapers and the crap. He didn't know what to think. I didn't know what to do. So I called that wonderful man, Harold. That took me out for the best meal I'd had. At this point, we'd been talking a lot and we were building a relationship. He was my cowboy. Before the night was over, he had purchased me a home. It was an rv, a big, giant motorhome. Beautiful. Just like that. I had a job, I had a home, and I was safe. And I was starting a beautiful relationship. Here I am telling you all about it. Enjoying a mountain dew while sitting on. Sitting in the sun room of the house that cowboy built, listening to the birds. I feel safe. I'm doing this recording because during my time in prison, I discovered a podcast called Risk. That podcast saved my life so many times. When I felt helpless and worthless, I would listen to Risk. Sometimes I would laugh and sometimes I would cry. Sometimes it felt safe. Kevin and his friends and co workers need to know how popular Risk is within the prison system. And I hope you guys know that you are saving lives, and I just want to be a part of it. Thank you for listening. Sa.

A (67:31)

This is Risk. This is Shushu behind me now. We've also had more rafter on this episode than usual. But most importantly, what you just was Annie Karnreich. I can't express how honored I am that Annie shared so beautifully with us. I mean, good Lord, what an extraordinary person. I'm just so honored and proud that Taj Easton, our producer, is on our staff, that he worked so hard, beautifully, to help Annie, who is a natural born storyteller, as you can tell. But it also takes a certain, I don't know, je ne sais quoi to hold that space and really coach a story out of a person the way that Taj does. And I'm just so, so grateful and so honored. And I was so blown away by the story that I asked Annie if I could record a follow up conversation with her that we could feature on our Patreon. And here's a little snippet of what that sounds like now.

B (68:54)

When I first got out, I had to stay in my parents basement and there was a petition passed around the neighborhood to have me kicked out of the neighborhood because my parents lived too close to a school. And one of the neighbors that signed it, I walked up to introduce myself to him and he looks at me and he says, I don't like transgender people. I'm like, oh, how many do you know? He looked at me kind of funny. Well, I don't know any. I put my hand out and shook his hand. We had a several conversations after that. Now when I go there, he comes running out of his house. Hey Annie, how are you? It's good to see you.

A (69:36)

She is something else. But hey you listener might not be on our Patreon because you might be brand new to the show. Well, listen, share this episode with friends. My God. Goodness. It is so important for real life experiences like this to be heard. With all the noise out there these days. It is so helpful to hear real people speaking with real emotional intelligence about their real life experience. Even if this is just the first episode you've ever heard of Risk. Please, we'd be so grateful to you if you'd spread the word. And then if you are someone who's heard a lot of this kind of thing on Risk and you value this kind of programming, we truly and very deeply need your help to keep this ship afloat. Here you can also find annieofundme.com you have to do a search there for Annie Goodyear. Money sent to Annie will go toward legal fees and expenses for Annie to speak publicly and raise awareness about what she and other transgender people face in the justice system. You can also find a direct link to that Annie Goodyear GoFundMe page in the show notes for the episode today. You know, several years back we learned that Risk was one of a handful of podcasts that were made available to listen to by inmates in various prisons in America. And we receive the most amazing emails from inmates about the show. We've had many inmates talk about the show, changing their lives and just broadening their horizons and all that sort of thing. And Annie is the first person we've been able to feature on the show who made it out. If you listen to my conversation with Annie on Patreon, you'll hear more about, you know, the life she is building since prison and I just want to say directly to the inmates listening to the show, we know many of you are trying to reach us but having logistical or technical problems or that we ourselves are confused about how the system works. But you are so in our thoughts and prayers. We're just so thrilled to know that the show is reaching people and means so much to people in that situation. And folks, I just want to thank everyone on our team. John La Sala, the hardest working man in show business only because we started in 2009 and JB died in 2006. JC Cassis is our extraordinary business director. She has gone months without pay to keep the business afloat. Just like I moved to Asia so I could take a big old pay cut to keep the business afloat. Cindy Freeman is the hardest working casting director and pitches reviewer in the world. Our episode editor Jeff Barr creating these episodes for you since almost the beginning almost since 2009. The extraordinarily talented editor Hope Brush. Talented in so many ways. Our wonderful story coaches David Crabb and Michelle Walson. And to all the people who email us every week to say I repaired my relationship with my wife because I started listening to your show or I ended my heroin addiction because I started listening to your show or I left a neo Nazi group or I decided not to end my life after all because I started listening to Risk folks. Real people connecting with real people about their real life experience. This is the revolution. Spread the word. Comment on Apple Podcasts and Spotify and Podchaser. Join us on Patreon.com risk or at the Risk Podcast Fans Discussion Group on Facebook or in my online storytelling workshops and story circles. You can email me at kevinrisk-show.com about that. And no matter what you're up against, no matter what this world is, is up to folks. Today's the day. Take a risk.

B (75:01)

Sam. Sa.

A (76:04)

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