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Hey, welcome back to the podcast. I really hope you enjoy this episode. And if you'd like to hear more stories like these with a different background sound, please check the description to check out my other two podcasts. And if you want to get rid of all of the ads, you can subscribe for just $2.99 a month. Last thing I really appreciate you being here and I'd really love if you would follow the podcast and come back again soon. Thank you so much. I hope you enjoy. I have taken my yearly journey to the woods to hunt Since I was 14 last year started just as every other one before had, but it would end much earlier and in a very different way than usual. Despite the weather being too warm for hunting, I was out at dawn on opening day. Like always, as the season drags on, the deer get more skittish, so starting as early as you can increases your chances. On the lease I had been hunting on for the past seven years, I had a small handful of preferred spots and this is where I was heading. This spot was a tree stand setting roughly 30ft high in an old oak that looked out across one of our three feed plots. I had had good luck there more than once and hoped to have it again. The drive out to the stand took about 15 minutes from my cabin, so I left an hour before dawn. I wanted to be on the stand just as the first bit of light broke. As usual, I parked my four wheeler about 50 yards away and walked the rest of the way in. I'm not sure if it makes any real difference, but not making a bunch of noise right next to where I'd be hunting seems like a wise idea, so it's a practice I try to remember to do each time I hunt. Although I had been up over an hour and had a couple of cups of coffee, I was probably a little groggy. I have never been a mornings type of guy and once I retired I have gotten up when I woke up no certain time. So I slung my rifle onto my back and began to climb. About three steps from the top with the seat in sight, one of my feet slipped from the ladder and I fell about 25ft onto my back. Somehow my rifle ended up next to me rather than under. There was no pain at first, so I figured I would just get up and dust myself off. However, I discovered very quickly that at least one, if not both legs were broken. As I sat up to examine my legs, pain began shooting throughout my back and body. It appeared then that in addition to broken legs, I had a major back injury. My usual high pain tolerance was letting me down and the adrenaline was beginning to wear off. I knew in a matter of minutes I was going to be screaming in pain. I began feeling for my phone and soon found it in my chest pocket. Luckily, I didn't land on my chest right? Being out in the middle of nowhere didn't necessarily mean there wouldn't be any cell service in my neck of the woods. Cell towers are more common than trees. I dialed 911 and waited, but the call dropped. The pain was making me very nauseous and I was having a hard time concentrating. It took me a moment to realize I was going to need to move if I had any chance of getting help. I couldn't think of any other way, so I gritted my teeth and rolled over onto my stomach. The pain very nearly caused me to pass out, but the stars soon passed and I began pulling myself forward with my arms. I had made it around 15 yards before I was forced to take a break. Once I had pulled myself together, I tried to call 911 again, but it was a no go. I looked around and noticed I was still under the trees, but there was a clearing not far away. I gritted my teeth again and pulled myself toward it. I had to take a couple of breaks, but eventually I was in the open. I crossed my fingers and pressed send. The wait was agonizing, but it finally began ringing and I was connected to a dispatcher. The pain made the wait for help to arrive seem even longer, but because of my location and clear directions, they made it to me within 30 minutes. As I laid there, I watched the sunrise, thinking how beautiful a scene it was to see. I only wished it was under better circumstances. By the time I was released from the hospital a few days later, I would have two broken legs, a broken back, which really amounted to three smashed vertebrae and a mild concussion. The legs would just have to heal with time, but with my back, I've had to have a couple of those vertebrae fused.
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- [05:55]
A
That surgery was done just a few months before this year's hunting season started, and you can be sure I was there Waiting for the sun to rise on the first morning. One thing has changed, however. For the time being, I'll be hunting from a blind on the ground. There's no way I'm going to go another year with an empty freezer. Back when it was originally released, I really, really wanted to get my hands on the new Xbox One X. You know the one? It was 4k ready with a considerably faster processor, so naturally I tried absolutely everything in my power to get one as immediately as I could. My local Walmart was having one of those Black Friday sales, and like so many others, I stood patiently in line waiting to try and beat the rush to grab one. But I was nowhere near sprightly or fortunate enough to actually get one that way. So after failing to get one in person, I then tried getting one online. But as rapidly as I wanted to own one, the users who were reselling them were asking way, way too much money, and I simply couldn't afford to shell out dirty double or sometimes triple the price. After weeks of trying to find a way to get a hold of one, I had to come to the conclusion that it just was not meant to be. It was then that I had something of a stroke of luck. Although I had resorted to Craigslist in my desperation, I did actually find someone that was selling their Xbox One X at no more than the original buying price price of the console. Naturally, I was skeptical. For the life of me, I simply could not fathom why they would do something like that. But one thought overrode all others. If I didn't put in a bid now, someone else would and I could kiss my chance of owning a 1x goodbye. I immediately emailed the seller and let them know that I was very interested. Not only that, but I had the cash on hand and ready to go. I also offered to pay for gas or whatever it would take to get the console delivered to my door. I figured that would be a pretty appealing offer to someone who I guessed was just strapped for cash. Around the holidays. I was stunned to get an almost instantaneous response stating that they did still have the Xbox and were in fact still waiting for a price proper bid from a serious buyer. They politely asked for a delivery address so they could bring it over as soon as possible. I was sort of hesitant to divulge such personal information and asked if it would be a better idea to first meet in public, since it was much safer that way. I'll be honest, I wasn't too pleased with the idea of a total stranger coming to my house. But he informed me that he was going to be very busy running holiday errands all day and that there would only be some pretty specific windows of opportunity to drop it off. It would be much more convenient for him if he was able to come over to my house. I was still not particularly ecstatic about the idea, but oh man, I really, really wanted that new 4K Xbox. So in the end I agreed and texted the dude my home address. I figured it was safer than me going over to his place. At least this way I would be on home turf. I was so happy and eager to get my hands on that new console. And that excitement only grew as I began waiting for the guy to turn up. But he took his sweet time. I mean, hours and hours passed by before I began to suspect that he wasn't going to actually show around one in the afternoon, four hours after he was due, I was seriously losing my cool. Thinking it was a prank or something, I tried texting the guy back, asking him where he was. Previously, I had gotten pretty timely responses from the guy, but this time I didn't hear a single single thing from him. By six o' clock that evening, I lost all hope. I assumed that he had gotten a better offer from someone else and didn't have the heart to tell me that he had picked a new buyer. I was disappointed. More than words can possibly describe. I had gotten myself so psyched, I can't even tell you how deflated I was. It's one thing to not have gotten the item from the store, I could come to terms with that. But I was so close to having one in my hands. It sucked having my hopes dashed so cruelly like that. But that didn't mean I had given up entirely. So for the rest of the night, I kept looking around on Craigslist and other sites to find a new Xbox One X that was within my price range. But as I was getting ready to wind down for bed, I heard something. At first I dismissed it as the wind or something, that it was maybe just my imagination. But then I heard it again. Someone was knocking. Not at my front door, but lightly on the TV room window. I walked up to the bedroom window and peered out into the driveway, seeing this strange looking guy at my front door, looking around as if checking the coast is clear. I'm suspicious, but I do go downstairs to see what he wants. He identified himself as the guy who had the Xbox, apologized for being so late, and explained that he had gotten backtracked with errands during his day. Then he casually Asked if I still had the money, I opened the door all the way, but still kept the screen door closed as a precaution. Something just didn't feel right, like, at all. I told him that, yeah, I still had the cash on me, but I didn't see that he had anything with him. So I calmly asked if he brought the Xbox with him, like if it's still in his his car or something. As I expected, he told me that it was out in his van. He told me to get the money and come out to the van with him and he would get it for me. I let him know I wasn't really comfortable walking out to his van, but he seems to understand and tells me it's all good. I briefly look over the guy's shoulder and see that there is, in fact, someone else sitting there in the van. Not only that, but the guy at my door has been keeping his hands concealed in a little front pouch in his hoodie the entire time that he was talking to me. And there was definitely something more than just his hands in there. Don't ask me how I could tell. I just could. You know when you just get a gut feeling about something? Yeah, that. I try to stay as chill as possible as I lie to him that I would just go to fetch my wallet and I would return in a minute. His mood immediately changed as I closed the door in his face before locking it. I then make the split second decision. Better to be safe than sorry. So I pull my phone out of my shorts and dial 911. But as I do, I heard a loud thud on my front door. Then the sound of the van's engine revving before it zooms off into the night. When I went to check to see if he damaged my door, I nearly pissed my pants when I saw a rusty old hatchet buried in the wood. I was right that he had something in his sweatshirt and that I should not go out to the van with him. Be careful who you're buying from, folks. You never know who's behind the username. JonBenet Ramsey was born in 1990 in Atlanta, Georgia, the younger of two children of Patsy and John Ramsey. John Ramsey was a successful businessman who was the president of Access Graphics, a computer system company that would later be bought up and absorbed by the Titanic, Lockheed Martin. So in 1991, John and Patsy moved their family to Boulder, Colorado, where Access Graphics new headquarters was to be located. Patsy Ramsey was a regular on the junior pageant scene and entered their daughter in various child beauty pageants that were held in Boulder, JonBenet would prove popular on the pageant scene, winning the titles of America's Royal Miss Little Miss Charlevoix, Little Miss Colorado, Colorado State All Star Kids Cover Girl and National tiny Miss Beauty. JonBenet's active role in child beauty pageants and Patsy's reported pageant mother behavior were common knowledge among their friends, family and fellow contestants. According to the statements that Patsy gave to the authorities. On December 26, 1996, she realized that her daughter was missing after she found a two page handwritten ransom note note on the kitchen staircase. The hastily scrawled note, written in black marker pen, demanded $118,000 for their child's safe return. John pointed out to police that the amount was nearly identical to his Christmas bonus of the prior year, which suggested that someone who would have had access to that information would be involved in the crime. Investigators looked at several theories behind the dollar amount demanded and seriously considered employees at Access Graphics who may have known of the amount of John Pryor's bonus as suspects. By most standards, the ransom note was unusually long. The FBI told the police that it was very unusual for such a note to be actually written at the crime scene during the crime itself. This led police to believe that the note was staged due to it not having any fingerprints except for patsies and authorities who had handled it, and because it included an unusual amount of exclamation marks and initialisms. The note and a practice draft were written with a pen and pad of paper from the Ramsay home. According to a Colorado Bureau of Investigation report, there were indications that the author of the ransom note was Patricia Ramsey herself. However, a federal court ruled it highly unlikely that Patsy wrote the note, citing six certified handwriting experts. Meanwhile, John Ramsey made arrangements to pay the ransom as a forensics team was dispatched to the house. The team initially believed that the child had been kidnapped and JonBenet's bedroom was the only room in the house that was cordoned off to prevent contamination of evidence. Boulder police detective Linda Arndt arrived early the next morning with the goal of awaiting the kidnapper's instructions. But there was never an attempt by anyone to claim the money. It was then that detectives made made a horrifying discovery. One of the plain clothes detectives asked John Ramsey and Fleet White, a family friend, to search the house to see if anything seemed suspicious. They started their search in the basement. John opened the latched door and was horrified to find his daughter's body in one of the rooms. John Benet's mouth was gagged with duct tape. A nylon cord had bound her wrists and neck while her torso was covered by a white blanket in an attempt to conceal the corpse, but it could not mask the smell. John Ramsey picked up the child's body and took it upstairs. The autopsy revealed that JonBenet had been killed on Christmas Day by strangulation and skull fracture. There was no evidence of conventional abuse of any kind, although police refused to rule out a sexual motive for the murder. Although no bodily fluid was found, there was evidence that there had been an injury to the girl's private parts. At the time of the autopsy, a pathologist recorded that it appeared her private area had been wiped with a cloth. A garrote that was made from nylon cord had been tied tied around JonBenet's neck and was apparently used to strangle her. The autopsy revealed a vegetable or fruit material which may represent pineapple, which JonBenet had eaten a few hours before her death. Photographs of the home taken on the day when JonBenet's body was found show a bowl of pineapple on the kitchen table with a spoon in it. However, neither John or Patsy Said said they remembered putting the bowl on the table or feeding pineapple to JonBenet. If this was true, then JonBenet had been fed by whatever stranger had murdered her, a highly disturbing detail indeed.
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Boulder police initially think Verizon is expensive, Think again. Anyone can bring their AT&T or T mobile bill to a Verizon store today and we'll give you a better deal. So bring us your bill, walk in running pogo sticking teleport if you can ride on the back of a rollerblading yak or fly in on the wings of a majestic falcon. Any way you can bring your AT&T or T mobile bill to a Verizon store today and we'll give you a better deal on the best network based on RouteMetric's best overall mobile network performance. US second half 2025 all rights reserved. Must provide very recent postpaid consumer mobile bill in the name of the person redeeming the deal. Additional terms, conditions and restrictions apply.
- [20:51]
A
To realize the future America needs, we understand what's needed from us to face each threat head on. We've earned our place in the fight for our nation's future. We are Marines. We were made for this. USAA knows dynamic duos can save the day like superheroes and sidekicks or auto and home insurance. With USAA, you can bundle your auto and home and save up to 10%. Tap the banner to learn more and get a'@usaa.com bundle restrictions apply focused almost exclusively upon John and Patsy as suspects in their daughter's killing. But By October of 1997, police had over a thousand people in their index of persons of interest for the case. However, a grand jury was convened on September 15, 1998, the main being to consider indicting the Ramses for charges relating to the case. In 1999, the grand jury returned a true bill to charge the Ramses with placing the child at risk in a way that led to her death and with obstructing an investigation of murder based on the probable cause standard applied in such grand jury proceedings. But Boulder County District Attorney Alex Hunter did not prosecute them because he did not believe that he could meet the higher standard of proving guilt beyond a reasonable doubt that is required for a criminal conviction in the state of Colorado. However, many Years later, in 2015, Boulder Police Chief Mark Bechner disagreed with completely exonerating the Ramses, stating exonerating anyone based on a small piece of evidence that has not yet been proved to even be connected to the crime is absurd. He also stated that the unknown DNA from JonBenet's clothing has got to be the focus of the investigation at this point in time. Until one can prove otherwise, the suspect is the donator of that unknown DNA. In 2016, Gordon Coombs, a former investigator for the Boulder County District Attorney's Office, also questioned total absolution of the Ramsey stating, we all shed DNA all the time within our skin cells. It can be deposited anywhere at any time for various reasons. Reasons that are benign to clear somebody just on the premise of touch DNA, especially when you have a situation where the crime scene wasn't secure at the beginning really is a stretch. Stephen E. Pitt, a forensic psychiatrist hired by Boulder authorities, said the public exoneration of the Ramses was a big slap in the face to Chief Beckner and the core group of detectives who had been working on the case for years. However, it seems the twists and turns in the case never stopped. John Mark Carr, a 41 year old elementary school teacher, was arrested in in Bangkok, Thailand on August 15, 2006 when he falsely confessed to murdering JonBenet. He claimed that he had drugged, assaulted and accidentally killed her. Yet authorities also said they did not find any evidence linking Carr to the crime scene. In his confession, Carr had provided only basic facts that were publicly known and failed to provide any convincing details. His claim that he had drugged JonBenet was doubted because the autopsy indicated that no drugs were found in her body. What's more, DNA samples that were taken from Carr did not match DNA found on JonBenet's body. We may never know who actually murdered JonBenet Ramsey, but one thing is certain. What should have been a jolly family holiday was turned into a living nightmare by a killer who may never face justice for their crimes. Although what I'm about to tell you may sound like one of your run of the mill horror movies, I swear by the validity of it and what I saw. It all started on a very hot July day this past year. My car is almost 20 years old and sometimes overheats on hot days just like this one. However, until I get a better paying job, it's the car I'm stuck with. This day I was driving through the back roads looking for a family of dog breeders a friend of mine had told me about. I'd been searching for the place for several hours and was approaching the warmest part of the day. As per usual, my car began overheating and I was forced to pull over. I picked up my phone to call my girlfriend, only to see that my battery was dead. After I spent a couple of minutes cussing my luck, I acknowledged that I was going to have to find someone with a working phone. That wasn't going to happen unless I started walking soon. I spotted an old farmhouse off in the distance and headed toward it. A trip that would have taken half an hour on a normal day took almost an hour because of the oppressive heat. I had to take several breaks during the course of the journey, but eventually made it. The area around the house looked more like a junkyard. Parts of old cars spread about and I had to weave through a maze of them to reach the front door. I knocked on the door for several minutes but got no answer. Thinking maybe the homeowner may be hard of hearing, I walked around and looked into the windows, hoping to see someone inside. At the side of the house, I spotted a telephone hanging on the wall just inside the kitchen. Now that I knew there was a phone there, I became excited and started calling out for someone. Even after walking all the way around, no reply came. I was about to give up until I saw a woman laying on a bed. I very nearly banged on the window to try to get her attention, but I figured that may scare her, so I went back to the front door and let myself in. In hindsight, that was just as scary. Before I entered, however, I took a piece of of paper from a notebook I carry with me and wrote out a note explaining what I was doing there. Even then, I called out several times as I approached the bedroom. Still no answer came, and I continued toward the room. The closer I got to the woman, the more her appearance began to unnerve me. She was laying flat on her back and staring blankly at the ceiling. I had initially believed she was watching the television that was turned on in the room with her, but her eyes sat completely still. Regardless, I got closer and once I was within a few steps, handed her the note. When the note touched her hand, she did not react. This caused me to get closer, and this was when I realized something. Something was very wrong. Her face had a very dry, almost mummified look to it. Her hair was a vibrant black, a color not often seen on older females. She had to have known I was there by that point. But her eyes stayed fixed. This is what caused me to lean in even closer and look into her eyes. Rather than being as slightly bloodshot or moist looking like most people's, they had a shiny, glassy appearance, like they were fake. In spite of this, not until I actually touched her did I know for sure that she was dead. I realized that perhaps she was a mannequin rather than a human, so I reached down to touch her bare hand. The texture of her skin was dry, but stone cold to the touch. The oddity of this was just beginning to really sink in when a loud creaking noise came from behind me. Without a second thought, I tore out of there and ran back down the road in the direction of my car. Within half of a mile, I ran into an older man in a truck, and he agreed to give me a ride back into town. I said nothing about my experience to him, and anytime he attempted to make small talk, I said as little as I could. He let me borrow his phone to call my girlfriend, and she agreed to meet us at a gas station on the edge of town. When he let me out of there, I thanked him and he went on his way. Once I was safely inside my girlfriend's car, I borrowed her phone to call the police. Police? I hadn't even told her about it yet, so the look of shock on her face as I described what I saw showed me what my expression likely was at the time I discovered it. The cop said they would send a car out to the house to check out my claims. I called a wrecker next to pick up my car. The police never called me back, so after waiting three days, I called to an inquire about what they found. It took a few minutes to find a person aware of my call, but once I did, the officer said that he and his partner searched the entire property and found nothing out of the ordinary, especially not a mummified woman. I thanked them and hung up the phone. What happened after I fled? I can only guess. The noise behind me was probably probably the owner of the home and he hid the woman's body knowing that the cops were likely to be called. To tell you the truth, I'm not sure what I saw in that house on that bed. I am positive that I saw a human laying on that bed. But that's all. More than once I have been tempted to grab a camera and return to that house to get proof of my claims. But fear of the unknown and what else could be waiting for me if I did, has stopped me. If the nightmares of her soulless eyes continue, however, I may have no other choice. Rory and I were halfway up Cross Coulure, a huge snowshoot on the eastern side of Colorado's Mountain of the Holy Cross, when the snowstorm rolled in almost a whole day early. That's when we knew that we were in serious trouble. A few days prior, the TV weather forecast had told a completely different story. It reported a clear weather window well within our Thanksgiving break, which was one of our only opportunities opportunities to tick off Mount of the Holy Cross from our climbing bucket list. We had always bagged several of Colorado's mountains that winter, and we had been eyeing Holy Cross's steep, snow filled Coulure for the previous year. Our plan was to stash some overnight gear at a base camp only a few miles from the start of our climb. From there we would go for the snow chute and then hike out one once it was night. We had planned to start the climb in the afternoon when the snow was just about soft enough to provide our boots with grip. We arrived at the base of the snow chute at around noon, about 300ft up. The snow was way deeper than expected, but the sky was a clear blue. We were on schedule and the climb didn't seem like it was going to be too taxing. Additionally, we knew that we would have cell service on top of the peak. We didn't expect to need it, but we considered it a safety net. We were right about the cell service, but we were wrong about the two hour climb. The higher we went, the deeper the snow became. Soon it was loose and powder all the way to the rock bed beneath. We were moving more slowly than expected, but if the weather held, we would still make it up before dark a few hours into the climb, slogging upward within the steep Coulure walls. We didn't even notice the dark clouds moving in from the west. The first snows came about halfway through the afternoon. By 5:30 it was pounding down with the wind drowning out our attempts to communicate. If there ever was a time time to quit, that was it. But behind us, the snow was kicked out and slick from our climbing, way too unstable for any kind of descent. So we went with our only viable option, pushing on toward the summit and descending the much easier north ridge as quickly as we could manage. We tried to focus on keeping calm and pushing onward as darkness fell around us. The blizzard flashed through our headlamp beams and pelted our faces with ice. When I looked down at Rory, the terrified look in his eyes perfectly matched how I felt. By the time we finally reached the summit around seven that evening, we figured the worst was over. We called our parents and told them everything was fine and that we were going to commence the hike down. But when we looked around, we saw only sheer drop offs and total darkness. There was no way for us to find our descent, which is dangerously easy to miss even in daylight. Plus, the wind up top was blowing something fierce, making it equally hazardous to approach any steep drops. With no choice but to hunker down, we settled under an overhanging lip of rock below the summit to wait out the storm. We had what we were wearing. Goose down jackets, insulated pants, hats and gloves, plus a little food and water. We prayed that it would be enough for us to survive. But despite our pleas to the Almighty, conditions soon worsened. Strong wind winds tore through our improvised shelter and our feet grew agonizingly cold. We took off our boots and socks and put our feet in each other's armpits, massaging our toes to keep the feeling in them. I couldn't get my mind off of thinking about how my parents would react to the news that we had died up there that night. That's when the severity of our situation started to really dawn on me. We had been feeling pretty cocky up until this point, but now I was truly frightened. Temperatures dropped to negative 20 Fahrenheit. With the wind chill that night, I stopped shivering, a sign of hypothermia. But Rory and I stayed positive, and I'm convinced that was the only thing that got us through that night. I must have drifted off because the next thing I remember was the sun's warmth washing over us. Thankfully, the storm had passed, but the descent was still hard to find. We saw several ridges, and at the bottom of one we spotted what looked like east Cross Creek, which we had walked along two days before. We rappelled toward it, thinking that we were home free. But when we reached the creek, we realized that we had accidentally gone down the south ridge, the opposite direction of the trailhead. And the one thing we didn't want to do since at that point we had lost all of our cell service on the summit the night before, we worried about surviving. Now we were just annoyed with ourselves. Low on food and extremely tired. Still, we were confident that we would find our way out. Below the tree line, we managed to pick up a trail that took us to a spot we thought we recognized as the east side of the mountain. We weren't ready to admit that our delirious minds may have been playing tricks on us. We followed faint trails through the forest, turning here and there as the compass dictated, but we always and ended up back where we started. We later found out locals call the area the Bermuda Triangle of the Rockies. Iron deposits in the rocks can throw off magnetic instruments, and our compass was taking us in circles. We knew that we should have stayed put to wait for rescue, but we couldn't. With water soaked boots, it was either move or lose of a piece, appendages to frostbite. Our optimism was running dry. I would start to feel a frog in my throat, but in those moments you have to either crack a joke or cry. So we messed around talking about girls, sang old Zeppelin songs and laughed about whatever we could, any distraction to keep us going. As the sun went down on our second unpleasant planned night out, we gathered tinder and took out our lighters. But to our absolute horror, they remained waterlogged with snowmelt. Despite our efforts to dry them, neither of us could get anything so much as a spark out of either of them. By this point, Rory was too weak to continue. So I piled pine branches on the snow for us to spoon on top of. We managed to laugh at a few cuddle jokes, but we were starting to realize that our families didn't know if we were alive. That made it tough to keep things light. Soon we both stopped shivering and neither of us could feel our feet. Matt turned to me. Dude, we could die out here, he said. I'm okay with it because I'm still glad to not be on the couch playing video games. But this is much earlier than I thought it would be. I'm not ready, man. We laid in silence. Rory fell asleep with his head on his right hand, a position that would cut off circulation just enough to give him frostbite in his thumb. Again, temperatures dropped below freezing and again. We woke up in the morning, somehow still alive. We hadn't been hiking long when we saw a helicopter. It was distant, but for us it took up the whole sky. Numb, feet forgotten, we ran into a meadow and I waved a jacket and a trekking pole with a bright red hat on it. The chopper flew right past us. It circled back four more times before flying away. We felt like we had watched our last chance vanish. That's when we finally broke down. There was nothing to say. Rory just laid his head on my lap and we both sobbed. An hour later the helicopter returned and this time it came straight to us. We could not stop smiling. It was finally over. I was so elated I tried to hug a rescuer who just threw me into a jump seat and strapped me in. We were told to look for bodies, he said. As soon as we flew off, I could feel the adrenaline drain out of me. My whole body was in pain that I had been too numb to feel until now. But still, I had never felt better. It was honestly one of the lowest, then highest points of my entire life. On the night of New Year's Eve 2002, Rachel Moran, a resident of the British east coast city of Hull, was headed to a party. Like many of her peers, she intended to see out the year in style. She put on her best skirt, carefully applied her makeup before heading on foot to the nearby celebrations at her mother's house where her friends and family had festivities in full swing. She saw in the New Year with friends counting the seconds until the change of year. Like so many others up and down the country. A few hours later, after hours of alcohol and dancing, Rachel decided to head home. But this was the final night of her short life. She would never be seen alive again. A court would later hear that Rachel was stabbed many times before her lifeless body was crammed for weeks in a tiny cupboard inside her killer's flat. The 21 year old aspiring singer was lured to the flat of a man named Michael Little in the early hours of New Year's Day, then brutally attacked for from behind, the court was told. The evidence obtained by various forensic pathologists showed that Michael Little had performed acts with her, but disturbingly enough, it was impossible to say whether this occurred before or after she died. It is alleged that he then wrapped the body in a thin bedroom curtain before concealing it in a small locked cupboard. Little, who was 23, of Nash Court, Hull, has pleaded not guilty to the murder of the striking six foot tall blonde in the opening hours of January 2003 a crime that sparked a massive police hunt and united the city in grief. When the broken body was finally found, the search for Rachel began after she failed to return to the home she shared with boyfriend Mark Shepherd. Following the New Year's Eve party at her mother's home in nearby Hall Road. Rachel Moran left the family home to walk back to her own apartment at around 1:40am on New Year's Day. Prosecutor Jeffrey Marson QC told the court that Rachel hugged her mother, Wanda, and told her she would call her as soon as she arrived home. Wanda Moran would not see her daughter alive again. By tragic coincidence, Michael Little was making his way home along the same route as Rachel. Sometime after about 2:20am he lured Rachel into his flat. Shortly after they arrived, he attacked her with a large knife. In a brutal attack, he used such force that on occasions the knife went all the way through her. At some stage, the defendant had intercourse with Rachel. Mr. Marson said that after Michael Little wrapped her body in the curtain and concealed it in the cupboard outside the door to his flat, he set about cleaning up the vast amount of blood using bleach and paper towels. Over the course of the next week or so, Michael Little apparently attempted to separate himself from the evidence of his crimes, disposing of various items of Rachel's personal property by throwing them into a nearby drain. Yet as Humberside police continued to investigate Rachel's disappearance, highly trained police divers found personal items such as trainers, handbag, passport, bra and a diary in the drain. The passport was a huge, huge find and Little had made a serious mistake in disposing of it in the same manner as the other items. It clued police as to who exactly who the items belonged to. As a result, they decided to search the nearby groups of houses near to Rachel's Sax Court home and Michael Little's nearby flat just happened to be in the designated search area. When police investigators arrived at his home home. They began intensively searching his first floor flat but unfortunately found nothing in their initial attempts. They then asked for a key to the cupboard located near to his front door. A reasonable request, but one that raised extreme suspicion when he repeatedly claimed that he had no key to the cupboard after having accidentally misplaced it, police were determined to search it thoroughly and eventually resorted to brute strength to tear the door from its hinges. Police on scene would later say that they smelled a kind of rotten meat odor coming from the cupboard and after moving various boxes, found her decomposing body hidden inside. It is thought that she had been stuffed in inside the tiny, cramped space for almost a month. Prosecutor Jeffrey Marson QC told a court that Michael Little said that the body in the cupboard was her. Martian then quoted Little's statement to the police soon after they had uncovered the damning, rotten evidence. I need to get it off my chest. I have wanted to tell somebody for some so long. Michael Little is thought to have said. I can't be normal. I must be evil. A normal person would not do this. The courtroom was shown CCTV footage of Rachel walking to her parents home on New Year's Eve and also of her walking home in the early hours of New Year's Day. She was heading home after speaking to her boyfriend who was at a party on a nearby council estate. CCTV footage showed her in a leather jacket, dress and white trainers walking past a local convenience store. The same camera picked up Michael Little walking in exactly the same direction and route as Rachel about a minute prior to the unfortunate victim. But a CCTV camera near Rachel's home showed that by a few minutes later, Little was walking around 40 seconds behind Rachel. This was overwhelming evidence that he had followed her, maybe even stalked her for a little while before choosing his moment. Michael Little later claimed to investigating officers that Rachel had ran up to him and asked in a friendly manner if she could walk with him because it would make her feel safer. He then invited her to his flat, just a few hundred yards from her own home, where they had a drink. He is alleged to have told police that they had then argued and he backhanded her. He then claimed that she had slashed his arm with a small knife and that what followed had been acts of self defense on his part. Michael Little had been drinking with friends at the Good Fellowship Inn on New Year's Eve before attending a party. Leaving to return home at around 1am the defendant had drunk several pints of beer, Alco Pops and even a quadruple vodka. Faint blood stains were found in the hallway of Little's home and zigzag patterns found by the front door matched Rachel's trainers. Little refused to answer police police questions. In interview, prosecutor Jeffrey Martian QC said it is clear the defendant was responsible for Rachel's death and that he is guilty of murder. Michael Little showed no emotion as a jury at Hull Crown Court found him guilty of the murder of Rachel Moran in the early hours of New Year's Day. If ever there was a murderer deserving of life imprisonment, it is Michael Little.