
A plot to find a million dollars in buried fortune ends in unthinkable violence. Mary was caught in the middle of it all. She shouldn’t have survived the desert, but when she did, she led the authorities to a scene of deliberate mayhem. At the center...
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It's still dark out, but not completely. There was just enough light creeping in to outline the world in shades of gray. Mary heads for what she thinks are the faint lights of a distant road glowing on the pre dawn horizon. She tries to run, but she can't. Her bare feet slap against the ground, aching with every step. Jagged rocks cut her tender feet deeper each time. Dirt packs into these wounds. Still she doesn't stop. She can't. Her hands are bound behind her back. A loose blindfold hangs around her neck, bouncing against her chest as she hurries. She doesn't know where she is or what direction to go. The desert is quiet. Too quiet. And it's cold. The sky starts to change. The sun starts to rise. Black fades to blue. Then a subtle yellow glow spreads across the desert floor. For the first time, Mary can see the desert around her. It seems endless and empty, but she picks up the pace. She takes step after agonizing step. She runs for what feels like forever, her breath shallow and quick. Still, she keeps going. Then she hears a sound. She hears cars cutting through the still air. She pushes forward, collapsing more than walking now. She crests a hill and sees the road ahead. The sun breaks over the mountains. Light floods the desert, and with the rising sun, she sees the first signs of life. A car. Then another. They're speeding by. She opens her mouth but nothing comes out. Her throat is dry, her voice hoarse. She tries again. A raw, desperate scream tears through the morning air. Help me. Welcome to Sword and Scale Nightmares. True crime for bedtime. Where nightmare begins now.
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A Kern county sheriff deputy is on his way to work, driving into town. The sun rises over the mountains behind him as he drives down a remote stretch of highway, the road cutting through the desert like a scar miles from anything. That's when he spots a person on the side of the road. At first it doesn't register as anything unusual, but out here in such a remote location, it doesn't make sense. He triggers his lights, but not his sirens, and crosses the median of the divided highway. He isn't sure what this is, but once on the other side, details come into focus. He sees it's a woman, and her hands are behind her back. He can barely make out what appears to be something white and plastic coming from her hands. Before he even stops, she's moving towards him, collapsing forward with each step. He steps out of the car. Now he knows there's something very wrong. She reaches him, frantic. She starts talking, but it doesn't make any sense. She's talking too fast. Her thoughts are all out of order. The deputy sees her restraints smeared with blood. That's when he notices the blindfold around her neck. Everything clicks. He reaches for his knife, then stops. He wants to cut her bindings, but he knows he should take pictures first. This woman is alone and bound, running through the desert. He knows this is serious after he snaps a few quick pictures, he cuts her ties. Her arms drop like dead weight. He can see the relief wash over her as she rubs the raw, torn skin at her wrists. What happened? He asks, but he is not prepared for what she says. She looks at him a little calmer, a little more composed, and tells him what happened. She says she and her friend were kidnapped. She swallows hard and her friend was still in the desert, in the mountains and they have to save him. The deputy looks around at the expanse of the desert and hope she can narrow that down a bit. With her adrenaline still pumping, she hops into the patrol car and leads the deputy and his backup down a dirt road heading deeper into the desert. She leads them to a chain link gate in the middle of nowhere. As soon as they get out of the car, she yells in the air, they're coming right now. But before the deputies could see the other person, they could smell him. The air was heavy with a stench of bleach. The deputy hurries down the small hill in the direction Mary said to go. That's when he sees her friend Mike. He's barely visible in the shadow of the mountain. His clothes and body covered in sand nearly blend into the environment. He lies motionless on his side, his hands still zip tied behind his back. He's bloody, beaten, burned and cut.
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Hours earlier in A quiet neighborhood on Newport Beach, California. Mary was asleep in bed. It was a nice home. It had four bedrooms and a two car garage. But the location was the best part. The house sat on a corner just a block from the ocean. Inside, Mary had been trying to find a new rhythm. She'd only moved from Florida a couple of days ago to start over. It was a new state and a new life. She moved in with her boyfriend and his roommate. Her boyfriend was out of town tonight, so it was just her and her roommate, Mike. She didn't know much about him other than he was in his late twenties, friendly, kind, and like a big teddy bear. Michael was asleep down the hall, sprawled out on the couch in front of the TV in the den. What Mary didn't know was that Michael was a businessman in a burgeoning California market. Medical marijuana. He owned and operated a dispensary. This was still four years before California would legalize it for recreational use. Still, business was booming. It came with one caveat, though. Because it wasn't federally legal, he couldn't use banks. His business was strictly cash. To Michael, it was more of a hiccup. Not really a problem. But to the wrong people it looked like an opportunity. Mary wakes with something cold and hard pressing onto the back of her neck. She freezes in fear for being asleep seconds earlier. She's more alert now than she's ever been. She hears the rustle of fabric and then a presence. A man whispers in her ear. Don't worry. This is not about you. Panic sets in, but she doesn't dare move as the masked man rips a piece of tape and slaps it over her mouth. The sounds of zip ties clicking mock her as her hands and ankles are tied. Then the dark room becomes even darker as a blindfold is cinched around her head. Her pulse quickens and she feels arms wrap around her and lift her from her bed. Reduced to just one sense, her hearing heightens. The sounds of Mike yelling and crying for help bounce down the hall. His cries grow fainter as she's dragged down the stairs. Further away still, she barely makes out what the two other men are asking him. Where's the money? She hears Mike's response too. With a shaky voice, he tells them there's $2,000 in a sock drawer in his room. The voice yells back, not that. Where's the million dollars? The man punctuates the question with a muffled blow. Then it was quiet. She wonders if they killed him. She hears a rustling, then footsteps. Then she hears a slow, repetitive Thud. Thud. Thud. Mike's head hit each step as they dragged him down the stairs. Mary listens intently. She hears the men shuffling around. She hears Mike softly moaning. She wonders what money they're after and what they'll do next. She prays she'll make it through whatever they have in store and they'll take the money and just leave. But a pit forms in her stomach when she hears it, when she hears the van pull up outside. The men load Mary into the back of the van like cargo. The metal floor is colder on her cheek than the gun barrel was to the back of her neck. She hears the heavy thud as Mike is tossed into the back. She can tell by the footsteps that two men are in the back with her and Mike. And the third is walking around the outside towards the driver's seat. The van starts to move. She hears the turn signal and feels the inertia of turning left, then right. The brakes squeal as they slow down and the engine roars as they speed up. She starts to recognize the familiar bounce of driving on the highway, that rhythmic rise and fall. Then on the highway, the men are about the money again. Mike denies having any. Mary lies motionless, listening. The air whistles as something swings through the confined space. It lands with a quick thwop. They're beating him. Mike wails between sobs. He cries, choked with mucus. Thwap. Thwat. Thwat. It sounds flexible, like a strap or a cord. Mike begs and pleads he doesn't have a million dollars. Then a brief but intense pulse of light is visible beyond the blindfold. It's joined by a sharp, piercing crackle that cuts through the other noise. It's a stun gun. No sooner does she have this realization than the men are using it on Mike. He moans through clenched teeth, his voice stuttering, then quiet again. Mike breathes slowly and deeply. I don't have a million dollars, he says weakly. The slight hiss grows louder, then a click, and the familiar whooshing of fire catching. She feels the heat immediately. Mike begs them to stop, desperation in his voice. The fear in his cries grow more acute as the men inch towards him. His skin squeaks on the metal floor in his vain attempts to wiggle away from the flame. Mary smells burning cloth. Then she smells burning flesh. Mike wails through clinched teeth between burns. They ask for the money again. Even in so much pain, Mike denies having a million dollars. But he wants the pain to stop. He wants to live. He confesses he has $100,000 in a safety deposit box. He promises to get it for them tomorrow, one masked man replies. Not good enough. Mary's sense of time is lost. She doesn't know how long she's been in the van, how long she's been a witness to torture. Then the van slows. It lurches to one direction and rocks as it leaves the pavement. The static of gravel under tires replaces the highway's low drone. Terror fills Mary. She doesn't want to die, so she starts praying. The van stops. The engine turns off and the back doors open. The three men pull Mary and Mike out of the van and toss them to the ground. A slight breeze brushes past her. After all the noise in the van, the silence is deafening. Suddenly she becomes hyper aware of how fast her heart is beating. She can hear it. She can feel it in her neck. She strains to hear anything over her own heart, her own breath. A stray cricket chirps in the distance, but she doesn't hear much else, not even an echo. It sounds open. It sounds isolated. This is where they are going to shoot us. This is where it ends. Then they ask a final where is the million dollars? Mike replies quietly and defeated. I told you I don't have any money. Well, if we're not going to get our money, we're going to take something. Your dick. Mary's eyes widen. Even though she is blindfolded, she doesn't believe what she's hearing. Mike's struggle is brief. Either that or they're holding him down because she only hears the man. After that, he starts to sing. Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. Mike doesn't make a sound. He must be dead. The man stops singing. She can tell. He stands up. She hears all three walking around, but they aren't speaking. The footsteps come towards her. She tenses up at the thought of what's next. The footsteps pass her and stop next to Mike. The sound of liquid being poured is next. Mary lets out a small whimper. They're going to set us on fire. Then the smell hits her. It's not lighter fluid. It's not gasoline. It's bleach. Just then she feels cold pressed against her skin. It's the blade of the knife. She's sure this is the end when a voice says, if you find the knife, you can set yourself free. She hears the rustle of fabric. Then the knife lands somewhere to her left. He tossed it. Today is your lucky day. The footsteps recede. The van doors close and the engine fires up. Gravel flies as the van speeds away. Mary is alone. It's quiet. Too quiet now and it's cold. Something she hadn't noticed earlier. She pulls her knees close and rolls upright. She presses her face against her knees and slowly forces the blindfold down. Mary wiggles and scoots her body towards the knife. She lets out a little triumphant grunt when she finds it. She positions her back towards the knife and grabs it in her bound hands. By touch alone, she uses the knife to cut her ankles free. She looks at Mike but he isn't moving. She runs over to him and pulls the gag out of his mouth. Mike takes a deep breath and says that feels so much better. She thanks God he's alive and tells him she's going to go find help. Somewhere in the distance she thinks she can hear cars, so she stands up and starts walking through the desert towards the only faint lights she can see.
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Mom, can you tell me a story?
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Was she brave?
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Did she have to fight a dragon?
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Was it scary?
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Mike was alive, but just barely. He was beaten and bruised. He had severe burns and welts all over his body and his genitalia had been mutilated, part of it missing EMTs did what they could before transporting him to the hospital. Detectives were left wondering what this was all about and why anyone would do this. Why would anyone take something like that? Mike would make a complete recovery, but he'd never be whole again, if you catch my drift. It didn't take long for detectives to uncover the plot that led to two people being left for dead in the desert. A routine canvass of the neighborhood, a tactic that rarely paid off, led to a license plate number almost immediately. An older woman who lived next door saw a white truck parked outside Mike's home the day before. The truck wasn't that odd, but the three men dressed as workers struck her as a little suspicious. Don't you just love old women who look out the front window and snoop on their neighbors all day? They're the best. That plate led to one of Mike's marijuana suppliers, Kyle Handley, lying in his hospital bed. Mike cannot believe it. He knows Kyle well. He even took him to Vegas once to celebrate a profitable year. How could he be involved? Two days after the failed robbery plot, the police arrested Kyle. Piece by piece, the story started to come together. You see, after that extravagant Vegas weekend, Kyle told his partner how much money Mike had. Kyle's partner, Adam Nayeri, did a little math and came up with a number. Mike must have at least a million dollars. They knew he couldn't use banks, so they devised a plan to rob him. Because there is no honor amongst thieves or people who openly break the law. We used to call these people criminals and have disdain for them. Nowadays, it's nothing but empathy. For some reason. Maybe because we're all high on marijuana. That's just my theory. For months, Adam surveilled Mike. He placed GPS trackers on his car, staked out his house, and even positioned cameras to watch him. They knew his routine. Everywhere he would go. They just couldn't figure out where he was keeping his money. That is, until one day, Mike did something out of the ordinary. He drove way out into the Mojave Desert. It was a light bulb moment. For Adam, it all made sense now. Mike was burying his money in the desert. You know, kind of like Breaking Bad. Funny how media can influence everything we think and do, influencing our very perception of what reality is. Soon after, he and Kyle recruited another man and executed their plan. The only problem was, there wasn't any money. And the only reason Mike was in the desert was that he was considering investing in a land development deal. Also, because of Mike's business, he couldn't use a federal banking system, but he could still use banks. He could still put all of his money in a safety deposit box. But these idiots planned a whole crime around a theory that was never real. What kind of an idiot buries their money in a desert? That's television. That's not reality. At least not for someone with a functioning brain. Can you tell the difference? It's important to ask yourself that every now and then. We can all get swept up in bullshit. Kyle Hanley was sentenced to life in prison for kidnapping, aggravated mayhem and torture. The third man was sentenced to more than 12 years in prison after pleading guilty to kidnapping, burglary and assault. Adam, though, was more difficult to pin down. He fled the US for Iran. Or Iran or Iran. Again, nobody who speaks English knows how to say the name of that country. One of the few countries that don't extradite to the United States for obvious reasons. It would be over a year before they captured him in Prague, Czechoslovakia, as I still call it. Kind of like you still call Twitter. Twitter. And just when you think the story is over, well, Adam escaped LA County Jail. Just like the movie Escape from Alcatraz, a classic, of course. He cut through a wall and climbed to the roof and then to freedom. He was caught eight days later. Adam Nayeri was sentenced to two life sentences without parole and one with parole for kidnapping, for ransom and torture. All the planning, all the surveillance, all the torture, the suffering, all of it was built on something that simply wasn't there, simply didn't exist, simply wasn't part of this thing we call reality. There was no buried money, no hidden fortune, no break bad. There was just a foolish belief by a fool and his foolish colleagues and all of the consequences that followed. If you enjoyed the show, please consider joining plus@swardandscale.com plus but if you can't, consider leaving us a positive review on your preferred listening platform, sweet dreams and good night.
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Host: Sword and Scale
"Barren" plunges listeners into a harrowing true crime story that intertwines greed, brutal violence, and mistaken assumptions. The episode details the violent kidnapping and torture of Mary and Mike, rooted in the mistaken belief that Mike, a dispensary owner, is hoarding vast sums of cash. Through atmospheric narration and chilling details, the podcast exposes both the cruelty of the attackers and the tragic absurdity of their motivations—all set against the desolate backdrop of the California desert.
The narrator’s delivery combines chilling suspense, dark irony, and moments of blunt, unsettling humor. Commentary often breaks the fourth wall to question our empathy, the influence of media, and the irrationality underlying the crime.
A haunting story of violence, greed, and mistaken belief, "Barren" is a reminder that some nightmares are the result of fantasies gone fatally awry — and that reality is far more horrifying than fiction.