0:02

Hello, I wanted to take a moment to

0:04

thank you for listening, and also to

0:06

explain why you might hear ads like this before,

0:09

during, or even after an episode. We're

0:11

a small but mighty team here at Realm, and

0:14

to help fund our shows, we promote products

0:16

or services that we think you'd enjoy from

0:18

a variety of sponsors. If any

0:20

of our ads interest you, one of the best

0:23

ways to support us is by visiting the link

0:25

or using the promo code in the ad. It's

0:28

pretty much a win-win, since you can get some great

0:30

deals, and we can keep making

0:32

awesome shows like this one. You

0:34

can also visit realm.fm slash

0:36

partners for more information about our

0:38

sponsors and how to access the different promotions.

0:41

Thanks again for joining us in our corner of

0:43

the universe.

0:45

Listen away.

0:51

Looking for another show that has some dark

0:53

and twisty themes? Then look no further

0:55

than another show that's distributed by Realm, the

0:57

patron saint of suicides. The

1:00

show follows Haven Otomo, who is possessed

1:02

with unnatural powers of persuasion and

1:04

has always been good at talking people out of hurting

1:07

themselves. Every night she walks the Golden

1:09

Gate Bridge to save people from jumping. So

1:12

when a number of young men in Oakland, California

1:14

are struck and killed by trains, detectives

1:17

ask for her insights on what might have driven these

1:19

men to stand on those tracks. But as more

1:21

is discovered, she learns that she may be more intricately

1:24

linked to the crimes than she realized. This

1:26

full cast fiction podcast just wrapped up its

1:29

third and final season, meaning it's

1:31

a great time to binge listen to the full story.

1:33

It's available wherever you listen to podcasts, and

1:36

even better, we have the very first episode for

1:38

you to listen to now, so you don't have to go anywhere

1:40

to get started.

1:46

Welcome

1:51

back, friends. Enjoy your stay while

1:54

it lasts. Audio.

1:57

The patron saint of suicides continues.

2:00

subject matter that might be sensitive to some

2:02

listeners. Listener discretion is advised.

2:05

Are

2:08

you still with me? I

2:11

need to hear from you. I'm

2:14

here. Stay

2:16

with me, and we'll get through this

2:18

together. Atonement

2:22

makes us human, makes us

2:24

strong, and gives

2:26

us hope.

2:31

Audio media presents... the

2:36

patron saint of suicides. Created

2:41

by Alex Golden. Music

3:01

by Alex Golden

3:05

Shoes and masks. When

3:08

I remember it, that's

3:10

what I think about first. Then

3:14

I remember the love. Which

3:17

is worse, because the memories of love are

3:19

quickly chased away by the reminders of loss.

3:23

It's so much easier to dwell on the masks.

3:26

Shoes, masks, trains,

3:29

guns, bodies. So

3:31

much easier to be afraid of those.

3:35

Krish led me by the hand to an open

3:37

two-seater, giving me the window.

3:41

Still cold from the platform, his

3:44

fingers interlaced with mine, and

3:46

he held my eyes with an electric charge

3:48

as the other passengers filled in around us.

3:52

People filled in every available space,

3:54

scrambling to grasp pools and straps.

3:58

The temperature rose in the car.

4:01

I saw someone tighten her fingers around her

4:03

purse. We all

4:05

waited to move. Then

4:09

the doors opened again. More

4:12

people pushed into the car.

4:15

I couldn't see who, but I could

4:17

feel the energy change. An

4:19

onslaught forced their way in. They pried

4:21

open aisles for themselves like they were clearing

4:24

a cornfield with a machete. I

4:26

noticed the colorful shoes first. Hundreds

4:29

of bright sneakers in all colors of the crown

4:31

box. One pair in Aquamarine

4:34

and one in cochleco. A sensual

4:36

red usually seen in poppies and

4:38

the occasional overripe persimmon. Marching

4:41

into the car like fire ants on the warpath,

4:45

I looked up and saw the masks. Like

4:49

the shoes, the masks came

4:51

in many colors. But even

4:54

brighter, even bolder. They

4:56

were lucha libre masks, worn

4:59

in Mexican professional wrestling. They

5:02

completely covered the head with holes for

5:04

the eyes, nose, and mouth. Most

5:06

came in colors like flowers, with

5:09

base tones of cobalt, crimson, royal

5:11

purple. Ornate trim outlined

5:14

each hole. Fabric

5:16

accents sewn on for added flair came

5:18

in the shapes

5:19

of flames or tiger stripes.

5:22

An orange mohawk sprouted from the top

5:24

of one mask. Dag war teeth bared

5:26

to the gums line the mouth of another. In

5:29

some cases, the mask was a lucha

5:31

libre variation of a pop culture

5:33

icon, such as Spiderman

5:36

or Godzilla. A few had been designed

5:38

to resemble Dia de los Muertos skulls. I

5:41

tensed when I saw them. Not because

5:43

the masks themselves were frightening, but

5:46

because they were out of place. Over

5:49

millennia, survival instincts have taught

5:51

humans to be cautious when they can't see

5:53

someone's face. In the same way the

5:55

handshake evolved as a way to show that one

5:57

wasn't carrying a weapon, a bare face.

6:00

signaled peaceful intent. Something

6:03

as simple as a covered face was enough

6:05

to raise the hairs on my arms. It

6:08

should go without saying that the people in the masks

6:10

were not Mexican wrestlers. They

6:13

were slimmer. I could tell from their bodies

6:15

that they were old boys or young

6:17

men. When they started shouting, their

6:20

voices confirmed their use. Many

6:22

of the male voices sound like they had just dropped

6:24

into the baritone range, a post-pubescent

6:27

novelty that suggested they were less adults

6:29

and

6:29

more children trying out the

6:32

costumes of adults. Some

6:34

of the boys howled primal battle

6:36

cries, intoxicated by

6:38

their audacity. We understood.

6:41

This was a robbery. Within

6:44

seconds, the intruders flooded the car

6:46

like creequed or ran stones. By

6:49

the time I became aware of the crime in

6:51

progress, I was too paralyzed to

6:53

take action. There were too many people,

6:55

too many masks, and packed in

6:57

with other passengers, the crowd reached

6:59

a critical density where the passengers

7:02

wouldn't know how to fight or flee. We

7:04

were wedged into our seats, not going

7:06

anywhere.

7:06

The train car

7:09

had two sets of doors, and masked men

7:11

blocked these exits. When passengers

7:13

tried to leave, they were shoved back inside.

7:17

The number of masked assailants would have been difficult

7:19

to count at a glance, but anywhere from 20

7:21

to 30 young men had

7:23

stormed

7:23

the train. Show me your phones

7:26

and wallets! Making their way from person

7:28

to person, they snatched items they could

7:30

easily carry. Cell phones, tablets,

7:33

laptops, jewelry, watches, wallets,

7:36

purses. They collected anything that could

7:38

be stripped from a body, slid

7:40

off an arm, or removed from

7:41

a pocket. Anything that could easily

7:44

be traded or resold. Next

7:46

to me, Chris whispered, Give me your

7:49

wallet. They're going to take it

7:51

anyway.

7:52

When someone did protest, well,

7:56

it was almost worse. Give

7:58

it up, you fucking dick! One

8:00

rider had to be persuaded with an open

8:02

palm slap to the head. Most

8:04

didn't put up a fight. The

8:06

robbery progressed smoothly with minimal

8:08

resistance from the victims, and

8:11

hence, minimal violence

8:13

from the criminals. Within seconds

8:15

of boarding the train, the robbers

8:17

had sifted through most of the passengers, lifting

8:20

items from us in a sort of thieves'

8:22

trick-or-treat.

8:23

I was grateful Chris had asked me for my wallet.

8:26

We made it easy for them. Mashing

8:29

ourselves against the train window and laying

8:31

our possessions on the seat right by the aisle,

8:34

I didn't want them touching us. I

8:37

remember I disconnected from my body

8:40

and stared at the floor, hoping it would

8:42

all end soon. Occasionally,

8:44

I stole a glance and saw how some

8:46

people went into shock, their bodies

8:49

reverting to a calm state where this train was

8:51

just like any other commuter car, creating

8:53

the illusion that this was still something

8:55

familiar, something safe, allowing

8:58

them to turn off the part of them that might

9:00

otherwise panic. Like me,

9:03

they only moved when a voice demanded they

9:05

surrender their belongings. They froze

9:07

as hands patted them up and down and

9:10

turned out their pockets, unfamiliar

9:12

fingers grazing their genitals through the fabric.

9:16

One woman put up a fight. I didn't

9:18

see her, but I could hear her.

9:20

I saw some

9:22

movement, maybe the twist of an

9:24

arm, then a collision

9:26

between a bot and a steel pole. No!

9:30

Shut the fuck up!

9:30

A man called out the woman. In

9:33

the crowd, someone else shrieked.

9:37

One woman cried to herself in a murmur. I

9:39

tried to shrink in my seat and held

9:41

tighter so we would all protect each

9:43

other in a fierce, terrified

9:46

embrace. A tear rolled down

9:48

my cheek. After the woman dropped,

9:51

we passengers became more compliant

9:54

and thieves hastened to pluck our goods

9:56

so they could escape. Somewhere

9:58

at the

9:58

center of the car. I

10:01

heard one of the robbers talk to a rider.

10:03

He had a mask that resembled a clown.

10:06

Doby smile, red nose.

10:08

I... I

10:11

know you. A moment

10:13

later, one of the passengers went

10:15

crazy. Aah! Aah! Aah!

10:19

And then... In

10:22

the enclosed space, it sounded

10:24

like a bomb. Those

10:27

who carried guns drew them. Both criminals

10:30

and passengers. An eerie

10:32

pause followed. Boys

10:34

waved guns in the air. And

10:37

the people who had disconnected from themselves returned

10:39

to their bodies, weighing the severity

10:41

of the moment, understanding that if

10:44

they failed to act, they might die.

10:46

Several moved quickly,

10:48

some trying to subdue their attackers. A

10:51

stampede of passengers fought against

10:53

the throngs of marauders, all

10:55

going for the exits or trying to wrest

10:58

weapons from hands. I

11:00

held us tighter. Then everything

11:02

turned to chaos. Bullets

11:04

ripped through the train car. They

11:07

burst through glass, steel,

11:09

and us.

11:21

It's late on the Golden Gate Bridge. Even

11:24

for me. I stroll towards

11:26

one of the clay-colored suspension towers, the

11:29

closest to San Francisco. Tonight,

11:32

its top vanishes within a blanket of

11:34

low clouds. The sodium lights

11:36

give them an ochre wash. I

11:39

shiver underneath a cable-knit sweater. A

11:42

young couple walks past me, arm in

11:44

arm, matching bookworm glasses

11:47

on both of them. They give me a

11:49

funny look, or maybe a guilty one.

11:52

As we pass, the man casts a sidelong

11:55

glance at his companion and gives her

11:57

a bashful smile.

11:58

this evening,

12:01

I did an open mic. A combination

12:03

cafe and laundromat on Folsom. I've

12:07

been thinking a lot about my dad lately.

12:10

My dad was famous, so most people

12:12

know who he was, and that means

12:14

they already know my story. I'm

12:17

the daughter of the legendary Toby Gensler.

12:20

Comic hero. Manic depressive.

12:23

Suicide

12:23

statistic. The great Toby

12:26

Gensler hanged himself. It

12:28

wasn't some picture-perfect staging

12:30

either, such as a noose artfully coiled

12:33

from 1.5-inch manila rope

12:35

with a knot thrown over a beam and my

12:37

father's legs dangling like the tips

12:39

of scissors. My father's body

12:42

was trussed up in a slobby bundle of telephone

12:44

cable, wrapped multiple times around

12:46

his neck and secured to the dowel in my

12:48

parents' bedroom closet.

12:50

With his feet still on the floor, he

12:52

let his body drop as if sitting on

12:55

a swing and the coils asphyxiated

12:57

him.

12:58

In his last minutes, his body fought

13:00

to stay alive and his feet scuffed up

13:02

the carpet. The

13:04

whole room smelled of excrement, and

13:07

when I wandered in, I was

13:09

too young to sense the unnatural stillness,

13:12

to sense death. I only

13:14

went in there because I smelled something funny and I

13:17

thought the dog had messed on the rug. The

13:19

smell drew me to the closet, and

13:22

there he was. Rake

13:24

marks where he scratched the closet wall, his

13:27

fingers coated in blood and flecked with plaster,

13:30

his head bent to one side, and his

13:33

swollen blue tongue stuck out, his

13:37

arms hung limply and his legs bent at clumsy

13:39

angles, reminding me of a puppet

13:42

between performances.

13:42

Which

13:44

is what he was, I often think,

13:47

when I'm being mean. This

13:50

is the last image I remember of my father,

13:52

and I hate that.

13:55

I was so young when he died, but not

13:57

so young that I shouldn't have happier

13:59

memories. He played with me. I

14:02

remember him making me laugh so hard,

14:04

Winston. I spit up orange juice

14:07

all over him, which just made everything

14:09

funnier. I try to capture

14:11

that spirit of playfulness and trap that

14:13

memory as long as I can.

14:17

I've been patrolling the bridge for about two

14:19

years now. I've stuck to this routine

14:21

because it's given me an unexpected pastime,

14:24

for which I was wholly unprepared.

14:27

I don't know whether I hope to avoid my chance

14:29

encounters, or if I look forward

14:32

to them. The patrol gives me

14:34

a complicated mix of feelings, from

14:36

fear to euphoria. As

14:39

I pass under the tower, I see the man

14:41

ahead of me. He's alone, stationary,

14:45

leaning on the railing and looking down at the water.

14:48

I make out features as I get closer,

14:51

stocky, gray-haired, wearing

14:53

a dark suit, and with his elbows

14:56

on the railing, he might notice that

14:58

someone is approaching him. But

15:00

he ignores me. I've

15:02

seen the pose. I don't have to see

15:04

his face to imagine his despair as he

15:06

looks down at the waves. The

15:09

average height of the bridge is about 220 feet

15:12

from the water to the roadway. So

15:14

that's about 20 stories. If

15:17

you jumped, you'd fall so fast

15:19

the water might as well be concrete. He

15:22

must feel me closing in on him. He's

15:24

made no movement, and I'm guessing

15:27

he's hoping I'll just leave him alone with the

15:29

bridge in the water. Instead, I rush

15:32

up to him. Have you seen a small boy? He's

15:35

understandably shocked.

15:36

It's two in the morning. He

15:38

couldn't sleep. His father and I are

15:41

getting a divorce. That's not important.

15:44

He just ran away from me. You

15:46

didn't see him? No. I have

15:48

to sell my story with greater intensity.

15:51

Are you listening to me?

15:52

I haven't seen him. I

15:55

need to borrow your phone. It's not

15:57

that hard to cry on demand. The brisk

15:59

wind...

15:59

makes my eyes water so I can manufacture

16:02

tears at will. The man's jaw

16:04

hangs open and he clutches his heart. For

16:07

a moment, I've made him feel unsafe. This

16:10

is good. He was already unsafe

16:12

on this bridge, contemplating the water, but

16:14

now he doesn't like the sensation. He

16:17

wants to protect himself. His survival

16:19

instincts have kicked in. I need to

16:21

borrow your phone. I have his undivided

16:23

attention. Now I can see his face

16:25

more clearly. He's a white man

16:28

in his fifties with strong features and

16:30

a dimpled chin. Under the sodium

16:32

lights, his eyes are pink and raw.

16:35

He's been crying. He seems

16:37

frightened of my frenetic energy. Plus,

16:40

he seems curious about me. Maybe

16:43

because I don't look like him. He

16:45

combs over my Eurasian features and

16:48

his pupils dilate.

16:49

Maybe it's fear. Maybe

16:51

it's attraction. His gaze lingers

16:54

on my left eye, just like

16:56

everyone else. The witch eye.

16:59

I've got a weird eye. Let's talk about it.

17:02

I've got heterochromia, that's two

17:04

different colored eyes, blue here,

17:06

brown there. Plus, I've got poliosis.

17:10

It means the eyelashes above the blue eye are

17:12

white. That's two

17:14

different genetic abnormalities in one eye.

17:17

You think lightning can't strike twice in the same place?

17:20

Look at this fucking eye. Many

17:22

either find it exotic or repulsive,

17:25

and I can't tell which it is with him, but

17:28

the fact that my witch eye has captured his

17:30

attention is good. I

17:32

dial up my emotional fragility. Please,

17:35

I can't find my son.

17:37

This snaps him out of paralysis.

17:39

Yeah, of course. I

17:41

clutch his wrist, gently applying

17:43

a touch that makes him feel connected to another

17:45

human being. Can you walk with me? He

17:48

lets me lead him. I'm

17:50

reminded of how Chris liked to lead me this

17:52

way and how easily I was subdued by

17:55

his touch. I lead the man

17:57

back towards the mainland. Eventually,

17:59

we will see him.

17:59

walk a stride. To occupy

18:02

his thoughts, I hand back the phone. I

18:05

need you to unlock it for me. I wipe

18:07

fake tears from my cheeks. The

18:09

man looks over his shoulder, back to the point

18:12

where he was standing, possibly remembering

18:14

what he came here to do. Perhaps he

18:16

wonders if I'm a con artist.

18:18

What happened to your phone? My

18:20

son has it. He was playing a game on

18:22

it. I pretend to dial. I

18:25

speed up our pace and he falls in step with me.

18:27

Holding the phone to my head, I hear

18:29

nothing but wind, but I pretend the call

18:31

went dead. I can't get a signal. I

18:35

can't get a signal. The distress in

18:37

my voice compels him to say something encouraging.

18:39

Keep trying. I

18:41

wave the phone around, more

18:43

witchcraft and dial again. Miracle

18:46

of miracles. It's ringing. I

18:48

spot a glimmer of hope in his eyes. Good

18:51

sign. Voicemail.

18:53

What was your son's name? Milo.

18:56

That hurt. It hurts just

18:59

to say the name. Milo! Milo!

19:02

When he calls the name my stomach knots.

19:04

When's the last time you saw him? We

19:06

were just walking down there. I

19:08

point vaguely ahead of us along the sidewalk.

19:11

At this hour? Seeing the grief in

19:13

my face and possibly remembering

19:15

that he's outlayed himself, he decides

19:17

not to judge me. You don't think? He

19:20

looks into the water 200 feet below

19:22

us. Oh

19:25

my god.

19:26

It's going to be okay. I'm calling 911.

19:29

I wave the phone around for a signal again. Ringing.

19:33

I hold the phone to my ear, pretending that

19:35

the call is connecting. I give him a

19:37

brave smile and he smiles back.

19:40

Although I can tell he's terrified for me, I

19:42

pretend to hear someone pick up. I've got

19:44

the dispatcher. We're approaching the toll

19:47

plaza and the mainland beyond it. He

19:49

scans the road for signs of my son. Now

19:52

that he's hooked on my story, he's hoping

19:54

he won't see a small boy being devoured

19:56

by the waves. My son's

19:57

name is Milo. My name?

19:59

Haven, Haven is homo.

20:02

My make-believe operator asks me to hold.

20:05

The man seems frustrated for me. Ahead

20:08

of us, I see another silhouette in the

20:10

distance. I want us to get to it as

20:12

soon as possible, before I run

20:14

out of things to say on the phone. While

20:17

I'm pretending to be on hold, I introduce

20:19

myself. Haven.

20:20

Glenn. Thanks for

20:22

staying with me. He has kind eyes.

20:26

Glenn spots the man ahead of us. Wait

20:28

here. I'll be back. I lower the

20:30

phone as soon as Glenn takes his eyes off me. The

20:34

man ahead of us is a uniformed patrolman.

20:36

I've seen him before. The officer

20:38

sees the man running towards him and holds up

20:40

his hands until Glenn realizes he needs

20:43

to slow down. I don't hear much

20:45

of what Glenn is trying to say to the officer, but

20:47

his hands make grand gesticulations,

20:50

and he points back to me and seems to be conveying

20:52

the urgency of my situation. The

20:54

policeman squints at me as I catch up. The

20:57

officer recognizes me, but makes no show

20:59

of it, not even a friendly wave. Instead,

21:02

he listens earnestly to Glenn's

21:04

story. Eventually, I catch

21:06

up with them. Ma'am, you can hang up. I'll

21:09

take it from here. Together, all

21:11

three of us turn and walk back to the shore.

21:13

The officer assures me he will search for

21:15

my son with

21:16

me. When we get to the

21:18

toll plaza, I hand Glenn

21:20

back his phone and thank him for everything. While

21:24

I walk off with the policeman, Glenn

21:26

heads back into San Francisco. I

21:28

hope Glenn will return home and sleep heavily.

21:32

I hope he will be happier in the morning with

21:34

the heroic satisfaction of having helped

21:36

a woman in crisis. I'm

21:38

even hoping he might forget how he almost killed

21:40

himself tonight, and when he retells his

21:42

story, he'll convince himself that

21:44

he was just out for an evening stroll to

21:47

take in the

21:47

unique beauty of the Golden Gate Bridge after

21:50

midnight. Vogue

21:58

rolled into Oakland. Although it would likely

22:01

burn off by noon, only phantom

22:03

shapes were discernible on the great mark. Victor

22:07

Blossom left his car and walked

22:09

toward the train. The string of

22:11

double-decker freight cars reminded him of an

22:13

elephant caravan. Blossom was

22:15

lean, with cropped blonde hair. He

22:18

wore a loose-fitting three-quarter coat, and

22:20

when the coal got under this layer, he shivered

22:22

and stiffened. The terrain changed

22:25

to gravel under his shoes, and he took

22:27

long, cautious strides, as if

22:29

on stilts. He smelled trace

22:31

odors of discarded refuse, skunked

22:34

beer, and something mildly sulfurous.

22:37

He approached the yellow tape that defined the perimeter

22:39

of the crime scene, where a man had been

22:41

mowed down by a train. Could have

22:43

been suicide. Probably was.

22:47

Someone on the other side hurried toward him. Officer

22:50

Zoe Gibson wore the same dark blue uniform

22:52

as every other patrolman in Oakland, but he could

22:55

pick her out of a crowd the way a penguin parent finds

22:57

its hatchling. Maybe it was the strong

22:59

angles of her face, or the smile with

23:01

pronounced canines. Detective Blossom.

23:04

Officer Gibson, what are the

23:06

odds of seeing you here? Thank you

23:08

for coming. You know I shouldn't be here. I'm

23:11

homicide, and this

23:13

isn't a homicide. I owe you one.

23:15

Why this one? You've seen some bodies

23:18

by now. This one's different. It's

23:20

something I wanted to show you. Show

23:22

me. For the past several years, Oakland

23:25

had recorded close to 90 homicides. Being

23:28

here this morning took him away from other cases, and

23:31

yet,

23:31

here he was. Do you trust me? I

23:34

think you have promising instincts.

23:37

I'll take it. The smell of oil

23:39

and soot overpowered the trash odors. Once

23:42

the train had struck the man, it had stopped,

23:45

then backed up so that the police could examine the

23:47

tracks. He stepped over a coiled

23:49

wad of soiled toilet paper and

23:51

several empty cigarette packs, as

23:53

they passed a few other officers. When

23:55

did you get here? 537. What do you have?

23:58

The train was traveling

24:01

roughly 55. Sixty-eight

24:03

cars. Most containers stacked double,

24:05

so a total of 132 containers.

24:07

You talk to

24:09

the engineer? The freight conductor logged the

24:11

incident at 443 and phoned the

24:13

dispatcher. How's he doing?

24:15

Shaking up. What does he

24:17

remember? He recalls seeing a young

24:20

man kneeling on the tracks just before

24:22

impact. Had the fog set

24:24

in at that hour? Apparently, but

24:26

he said that with the headlights, he could see him fairly

24:29

clearly just before impact. He

24:31

said he's been through this before, a few years

24:33

ago when someone threw himself on the tracks

24:35

around LA. Blossom thought about all the

24:38

bodies he'd seen over the years. It

24:40

gets easier, the more bodies you see,

24:42

but it doesn't ever get easy.

24:45

How did the engineer talk about his limited

24:47

visibility? Didn't spot him until

24:49

it was too late to stop. That he kept

24:51

going had a pretty good clip, even

24:54

though he was cutting through an urban area,

24:57

even though there was decreased visibility.

24:59

You think he could have braked in time? That's

25:01

for someone else to figure out. So

25:04

the victim was male? A young adult male.

25:07

Did the engineer remember anything else? Young.

25:10

Light-skinned, possibly Latin, possibly

25:13

Asian, maybe white. Couldn't

25:15

be more precise on age, and he didn't

25:17

remember the clothing. He

25:20

remembered the pose. The pose?

25:22

He said the man looked down into his

25:24

hands, like he was praying. If

25:26

he was looking down, how did he get

25:29

a look at his face? Not a good look.

25:31

He did glance up at the train and just

25:34

before it hit him, tucked his chin down into

25:36

that prayer pose. Should we ask again?

25:38

Not yet. All right. Where

25:41

is it? This

25:44

way. He could smell

25:46

blood in the air. They were getting

25:48

close. Passing the railway engine,

25:51

the first car of the train, he pulled out

25:53

his phone, tapped the flashlight function,

25:56

and shone a beam on the pilot, or a cow

25:58

catcher,

25:59

which these days looked less like the visor of a medieval

26:01

knight's helmet and more like a variant on

26:03

a snowplow. Human tissue

26:06

clung to the steel. Engineer,

26:08

see anyone else besides the victim? No,

26:10

I asked. Any chance there are cameras

26:13

around here? No luck.

26:15

Do you think he chose this place on the tracks because

26:17

it didn't have cameras? We can try to find

26:19

out. Blossom sidestepped a used

26:22

condom in a hamburger box. He

26:24

saw a smear of blood on one of the ties, next

26:26

to a discarded pair of corduroy pants. There

26:29

were no tears in the fabric at all and no blood

26:32

on them, so the pants hadn't belonged to the

26:34

victim. Blood covered

26:36

the tines as if smeared by a putty

26:38

knife. Soon it was mixed with

26:40

human matter. A few bits here

26:42

or there, chunks the size of golf balls.

26:45

Blossom knew what to expect. A train

26:48

travels 55

26:48

miles per hour with 140 cars and a payload of roughly 14,000 tons.

26:54

It collides in Oakland with a man weighing anywhere

26:56

between 150 to 200 pounds. How

26:59

many pieces would be left? Bad

27:01

math problem. Larger

27:03

pieces of the body appeared, torn

27:06

shreds and fragments of muscle and bone, barely

27:09

recognizable as human. This stretches

27:11

for about a hundred yards. They

27:13

passed a shoe, a black leather moccasin

27:16

curled with age, not the victims.

27:19

Not like the shoe a few steps away, Blossom's

27:22

stomach turned.

27:24

An emerald green sneaker

27:26

lay between the rails, saturated with

27:28

blood, torn efficiently at the ankle.

27:30

The remnant of a foot remained stuffed

27:33

into it. The next few pieces

27:35

of the victim couldn't be identified as easily. Along

27:38

the ties, the hunks of flesh looked

27:40

like chum. The pieces grew

27:42

as they continued. The size of a

27:44

small purse, one came from

27:46

a torso. The skin it flayed

27:48

from the muscle, and only from the protruding

27:51

bones could Blossom discern these at once belonged

27:53

to a rib cage. At this

27:55

point, he mildly resented Gibson for asking

27:57

of here,

27:59

mainly because...

27:59

so far, he didn't know what he could

28:02

contribute. None of these clumps

28:04

of flesh were telling him anything. Sometimes

28:07

on a crime scene, he felt like the cosmos

28:09

conspired to burden him with grisly scenes,

28:12

just to dispirit him. Book of

28:14

Job stuff. He tried to imagine

28:16

a scene a few hours ago, back when the remains

28:19

formed a man, and he began to

28:21

raise important questions. What

28:23

drove you to it? Why here?

28:26

Why now? And you couldn't

28:28

help but ask,

28:29

if you could see yourself now, would

28:32

you still have knelt down on the tracks? The

28:35

stench of carnage lodged in his nose. Following

28:38

Gibson, he scanned the scene. Here,

28:42

a crushed cardboard caddy for takate beer.

28:45

There, empty aquafina bottles.

28:48

Then, an arm. Long

28:51

and thin, two bones sprouted through

28:53

the narrow end. Why would

28:56

someone do it here? He didn't

28:58

have an answer. This stretch of

28:59

train tracks in Oakland cut through a desolate portion

29:02

of the industrial corridor. In

29:04

the middle of nowhere, really. Nothing

29:06

to see here, and it was inconvenient

29:09

to get to. He noted the

29:11

chain-link fence on either side of the tracks, topped

29:14

with razor wire. Do you think he jumped the fence?

29:16

I found a section someone shared through

29:18

with bolt cutters. Where are

29:20

the bolt cutters? Exactly.

29:23

Are you sure the victim was the one who

29:25

cut through the fence? Maybe the hole was

29:27

already there, but it's pretty close

29:29

to the point of impact. Regardless,

29:32

I'm guessing that's

29:33

where he came in. Let's hope someone

29:35

left some evidence on the fence. I

29:37

just keep wondering. Why here?

29:39

The location seems odd.

29:42

Why not just jump off a platform

29:44

at a station? Maybe this man

29:47

thought it would be quick. Painless.

29:50

Maybe he wanted to do it in a place where a

29:52

family member wouldn't find him.

29:54

Maybe he wanted to make it so that

29:56

no one could identify him at all, and

29:59

it would be as if... He just vanished into

30:01

thin air. Does that ever work? Not

30:04

usually. He did a good job

30:06

of obliterating himself, though. You can barely

30:09

tell it was a person. The

30:12

engineer couldn't be more specific on

30:14

race? I asked him a few times.

30:16

Dark hair, light skin. It's

30:18

all he remembered. The train was going

30:20

too fast. Did you find a car

30:22

nearby? I checked around. No

30:25

car, no bike either. At

30:27

least that we've been able to find. Do you think

30:29

it means

30:29

anything? He probably walked.

30:32

Oakland's a big place, but it's not that

30:35

big. The closest neighborhood is

30:37

Fruitvale.

30:38

You should check to see if anyone's been reported missing

30:40

from the surrounding communities. They stepped

30:43

toward a wet, red hump by the side

30:45

of the rails, and there laid the

30:47

largest piece of the body blossom at scene. At

30:50

a quick glance, it seemed to comprise

30:52

the pelvic girdle and part of the trunk, with

30:55

a leather belt wrapped around it, the

30:57

nickel buckle embedded into the skin.

30:59

This part of the body had been dragged down the tracks

31:02

until the train decelerated to the point where it

31:04

fell to the side and rested in the scree.

31:07

Blossom knelt, and Gibson followed his

31:09

lead, covering her mouth and nose with a

31:11

sleeve. The detective held

31:13

his hand just above the mass of pulped flesh, mainly

31:16

to see if he could still feel any heat coming off of it. He

31:19

could not. What are you looking for?

31:22

Anything. What makes you think there's

31:24

something off about this? Someone

31:26

came to the middle of nowhere to do

31:28

this. He knelt down between

31:30

the tracks instead of just

31:32

throwing himself in front of the train. He

31:34

had time to reconsider what he was doing,

31:36

but he didn't. He didn't get cold feet.

31:40

That doesn't mean he didn't kill himself. I

31:42

know, I know. But

31:45

then there's this.

31:46

I found this at the point of impact.

31:49

It's not like the other litter in debris.

31:52

I think someone dropped it here. Blossom

31:54

noted the bright color,

31:56

vibrant like the man's shoes, a

31:58

green,

31:59

but not emerald. Jade Green.

32:02

The bag held a mask, one in

32:04

good condition. It looked

32:06

fairly new, with gold trimming the

32:08

eye holes. He recognized

32:11

it as the type of mask worn in Mexican professional

32:13

wrestling. He recalled the official

32:15

name of the sport with a glimmer of satisfaction.

32:18

Lucha Libre.

32:30

Subs by www.zeoranger.co.uk