When you look at a cemetery, what do you see? To some people,
the centuries old headstones need only a light fog to become the perfect backdrop
for a terrifying horror film. In my eyes, I see a place to
relax and write a script in peace during the daylight. Of course, my
college town in Athens, Ohio, has a legend associated with its cemeteries.
There are five major ones surrounding the campus, and rumor has it they line
up perfectly to make a pentagram. This is why a town with less than
twenty five thousand people ranked on USA Today's list of most Haunted cities. Whether
you choose to believe the ghostly stories is entirely up to you and will absolutely
not affect today's story. I simply need you to imagine with me a very
old graveyard from the eighteen hundreds. It's situated in rural Ohio. So on
either side of the aged and cracked road rests a seemingly endless field of yellowed
grass. It's late at night, and there's at best one, maybe two
street lamps providing just a sliver of light. Jessica Lynn Keene was fifteen years
old and blindly sprinted through the pitch dark cemetery. Her heart pounded as sweat
ran down her face, but she didn't care. It was refreshing after being
stuck in the car for the past Oh who knows however many hours. Get
off the road, Jessica, Just get yourself away from this car. Did
she know she was entering Foster Chapel Cemetery? Perhaps, and if she didn't,
she certainly would. After she bumped into the sharp edge of the ancient
tombstone, she hopped up and down on her foot, trying not to shout
too loudly. Whatever, you don't let him hear you're over here. She
looked around. Could he see her? Did he even know she was in
the graveyard? She took a few seconds to rip the duct tape from her
mouth and stifled a gasp from the sharp, sudden pain. Oh that's a
bit better. You point wrong forever, little girl. His heavy footsteps were
definitely closer than they had been. Jessica shivered, partly from fear and partly
because she was now in nothing but her brawl. And where's my other sock?
She shook her head. That dot get help. She couldn't see a
damn thing, but that meant her hunter couldn't either. She ran as quietly
as she could and knelt down behind another headstone. This one belonged to the
Beach Family joint. Getting fog early, not Tad in the shoot. He's
getting closer now. Jessica desperately looked around to try to form some kind of
plan, and then, like a lighthouse, beck and ships to safe harbor.
A light appeared at a nearby farmhouse. Again, remember this is rule
Ohio we're talking about. I can't fight him, but maybe I can outrun
him, Jessica squinted as he got dangerously closer. It's about a quarter mile
to the leading totally prepped me for sometidness, Right, Jessica was about to
take the most important run of her life. Welcome to Dead Time Stories,
and that completes the little tour of our home. I'm happy to answer any
questions for you here in my office. Here's a chair for you, Jessica,
and for you, missus Smitley. Her parents were divorced, by the
way, That's why Jessica's mother's name was Smitley. Now, this overly peppy
woman was named Becky Westerfeld, and she was the executive director of a group
home cheerily referred to as the Huckleberry House. Two weeks before Jessica sprinted through
the fields of Madison County, she found herself here on the doorstep of the
Victorian building. Now, to me, Huckleberry House looked like the home on
the ninety sitcom Sabrina the Teenage Witch. But to Jessica it might have looked
like the start of a foul two weeks now, looking at your sweet face,
Jessica, I must say I'm a little surprised. Year here. Jessica's
mother, Rebecca, sat a little higher in her seat and nervously pulled a
strand of blonde hair behind her ear. Yes, well, we both agreed
that this was the best place for Jessica to be her graves. Well,
they've slipped a little bit. Then, when the school called and said she
quit cheerleading, I was a little more than shocked. Oh, dear,
that's not good. No, it's not sit up, Jessica. Jessica did
so and smiled at Becky. I think my mother's more concerned about Sean than
my grades or extracurricular activities. Husha, The love of my life that my
mother thinks is the absolute worst boy on this planet. Well, honey,
he's an eighteen year old dropout who ran into problems with the law. I
don't think that's the type of boy you should be with. Do we argue?
Often? Rebecca's fingers flexed on her purse, hoping Becky when it notice,
She fixed a bright smile to her face. We raise our voices to
each other every now and then. But oh yeah, we bitch each other
out like every day, Jessica. But mom, the lady asked a question.
Shouldn't we be honest? Of course? But the language is not needed,
sweetheart. Jessica turned back to Becky and flapped her hand in defeat.
See this is the type of ship that causes our fights. She thinks.
Cuss words make each ash and can't be a form of expression. Well they
aren't. I think you painted a clear picture, ladies. Thank you.
Spats between mothers and daughters are absolutely natural, whether it's about boys, friends,
or bad language. Give our program two weeks and we'll have Jessica's grades
back up to our four point zero and a happy home for you both.
What do you say? The women looked at each other, then turned back
to Becky. I think This is a perfect match, a two week vacation
from this pain. I'm sold. Now that's the spirit. We'll just go
over a few forms here, then the fun will begin. Jessica, why
don't you look over this list of rules while mom and I fell out the
boring paperwork. Jessica mindlessly twirled her hair as she read over the sheet.
Eleven o'clock curfew. Oh, yes, you're allowed to roam free after the
daily meetings. We won't ask where you've been as long as you're home,
safe in bed by eleven o'clock. Jessica nodded, satisfied with this answer,
and before she knew it, her mother was driving away. You're so funny.
Listen to me. I'm telling you the truth. There is not a
detailed record of what Jessica did while at Huckleberry House, but i'd imagine it
was something along the lines of attending meetings, talking through feelings, and trying
to understand why parents treated their children a certain way. Oh and that boy
Jessica who was madly in love with Sean Thompson, Well, i'm sure she
called him too. Well, we know she at least called him once.
On Friday, March fifteenth, Hey, baby, it's me Chess. What's
up baby girl? Oh you know, I finished another round of therapy today.
I think I'm improving a lot. Cool, cool, still hot ache,
Mama, don't you out there? I mean, yeah, baby,
it's kind of crazy, but I realized now she did it because she loves
me. That some real bullshit, babe. So what you're keeping up your
grades and quick hunting glass cool? Then as soon as your mamma find out
you dat me again, she's gonna send your ass right back to that Colson.
You're not being fair. Wow, favor and whist she real quick?
Sorry, girl, We're done. Did she hear that correctly? Was the
future missus Sean Thompson really single again? Jessica sniffled as she hung up the
phone. Somebody may have handed her a tissue, or perhaps she just wiped
her damp eyes on her sleeve, like her time at Huckleberry House. The
exact reasoning for why Sean broke up with her over the phone isn't known,
but records agree she landed on one solution. I'm going to the mall.
Ah. Yes, the Westland Mall now nothing more than an abandoned post apocalyptic
reminder of a time long gone, was once a popular hangout for teenagers.
In nineteen ninety one, Jessica purchased a few bus tickets and marched over to
the Coda bus stop across the street from Huckleberry House. She could have been
going just to blow off steam, or perhaps it was because she hoped to
bump into Seawan at the food court, but either way, she was growing
impatient in the cold. Where is this a bus? As if they could
read her mind, a car slowly pulled up and rolled down its window.
Good evening, young lady buses running lad again. Not wanting to appear rude,
Jessica put on her best cheerleader smile. No, I don't think so.
The driver checked his watch. Gee is skinting light Olla, good days.
You're like you shouldn't be waiting alone. He popped the passenger door open
with a familiar grin. Jessica hesitated, but he leaned back confidently. I'm
clean up and have less stops than a bus. Nobody knows why, because
usually okay cut to the chase with a giggle. She got in the car
with a total stranger. If she was really hoping to see Sean at the
Westland Mall. Maybe the bus was simply taking too long, and she didn't
care how dangerous this was. Jessica watched the houses passed by and soon realized
the roads this guy was taking wouldn't lead them to the mall. Her heart
started to beat just a little faster as she turned and saw the driver's knuckles
clenched around the steering wheel. Was he nervous or had he done something like
this before? I think the mall's back there. Shut up and show me
those hits. You can surely see where this car ride was going, and
this driver was definitely experienced when it came to taking advantage of young women.
He tied Jessica's arms behind her back with duct tape before placing a piece over
her mouth. He held the girl captive for no less than six hours,
raping her over and over again. Wait here, I gotta take a break.
The man returned to the driver's seat, leaving the terrified and revolted Jessica
in the back with her braw twisted up around her neck. She looked up
at the back door he'd foolishly left a jar, then up at his reflection
in the rearview mirror as he wiped sweat from his brow. This is my
chance. Jessica knew her escape window was limited. True, it was dark
out, and yes she was far from home, but that didn't mean she
couldn't find somebody to help her. Thinking quickly, she kicked the car door
open and bolted from the back seat. It was painful to run on the
assphalt and just her socks, but that was nothing compared to what he would
do to her. Again she ran. Adrenaline took over and she freed herself
from her duct tape bonds. Then ducked behind the headstones and knows the light
pop on in the far off farmhouse. It's about a quarter mile. She
leading totally prepped me for stuff like this, right, he was definitely getting
closer. Now. This was her only chance to get to the house and
hope they'd help her out, So she ran. He the man took off
after her. Jessica did her best to ignore him and focused only on the
lights streaming from the farmhouse. Just get to the house. Just get to
the house. Just get to the house. Just get to the house.
Just get to the house. And being unfamiliar with the graveyard, Jessica had
no idea the land was surrounded by an old fence. You know the kind.
It's made of splintery wooden posts connected by barbed wire. It's the kind
where if you run into it at full speed, it's guaranteed to knock you
out. The farmhouses lights slid from Jessica's view as the world faded to black.
Rebecca was fast asleep, with no idea the danger her daughter was in.
Her pleasant dreams were interrupted by a She rolled over and sleepily grabbed the
phone. Hello, Hi, missus Smiley, this is Becky from Huckleberry House.
Did Jessica come home to you? Rebecca suddenly felt like she drank eight
cups of coffee and sat bolt up right, I asked, Because none of
the counselors have seen her since our four thirty group session. When she didn't
come to the eight thirty one, we assumed she was out celebrating almost being
a graduate of the program. But then she is the curfew. I'll call
her friends. Rebecca tried her best to control her temper, but it was
hard when all she could picture was Jessica walking hand in hand with one person,
Sean Thompson. She venomously picked the phone back up. This is not
the time to be celebrating the young lady. You've reached the Thompson family.
Leave a message. Hi, Sean, It's Rebecca, Jessica's mother. When
you get this, give me a callback immediately. Rebecca called a few of
Jessica's close friends, but those that answered hadn't seen her since she left for
the group home. It was late and Rebecca knew she couldn't contact too many
more people, so tried the police around midnight. It was going to be
a long night and all she could do was wait for Please, let this
s bee Jessica. Hello, good evening, ma'am. It's Sean. I
got to call. It's Jessica with you. No, ma'am, isn't she
at the Huckleberry House. She's supposed to be, sean young man. If
she's with you, I will not be mad, and I will not ask
questions. I just want to know my daughter's okay. I'm sorry, ma'am,
but I haven't spoken to her since about five thirty. Rebecca's eyes fluttered,
Yes, I see, thank you. She mechanically hung up the phone
and stared ahead blankly. She's out there and going to call me any second
now, or a ride home. The next day dragged on for Rebecca as
she called her own friends for help finding Jessica, but still there was no
sign of her daughter. As Rebecca pulled down the bedspread for another night without
sleep, she stopped and grabbed a pen and notepad from her nightstand. Hello
God, I know I am not always a perfect Christian, but I'm writing
to ask you to please send me a sign. Even if Jessica doesn't come
home tonight, Please let me know that she's okay. I picture a light
fog over Foster Chapel Cemetery. It's the Sunday morning after Jessica was reported missing,
and now in the daylight, it's not scary or unwelcoming, but rather
peaceful. A college student took advantage of the quiet as she walked through the
grass and examined a few headstones. She rubbed the dirt and mildew from one
of the edged letters, snapped a picture of it with a grin, and
continued her morning track, determined to get the photographs she needed for her latest
project. She then spotted the barefoot sticking out from behind one of the headstones.
Was it a drunk passed out from the night before or perhaps someone homeless
and she was invading their territory. No, something about this didn't feel right
to her, so she cautiously approached Hello. She carefully peered around the headstone
and screamed as she got the shock of her life. This was way worse
than she imagined. You and I of course know it was Jessica, But
all this student saw was the bloody remains of a naked girl. Her head
was so smashed up it looked like it had been through a meat grinder.
Forgetting all about the photography project, the girl ran as quickly as she could
to a phone and notified police. Reports on the murder in the graveyard hit
evening news stations all across Columbus, and one of Rebecca's friends happened to overhear
the story as she was cooking dinner. Her eyes bulged out of her head
as she dropped her wooden spoon and ran to turn up the volume. Investigators
don't quite know how Jane doe Ll arrive at the cemetery, but clumps of
hair attached the fence post indicated she was trying to run from her attacker,
hit the post and blacked out. Detectives also found two bloody pieces of a
sandstone grape marker on the other side of the fence, and presumed this delivered
the blow that ended the young woman's life. Madison County Sheriff Jim Saban is
still working to identify the girl, and now the weather wasting no time.
Rebecca's friend grabbed her cordless phone and dialed the worried mother, you should turn
on channel six and sit down. When Rebecca watched the tragedy unfold before her
eyes, the possibilities of what had become of Jessica zipped around inside her mind.
She called police with an inkling that Jessica was the Jane Doe. Sheriff
Jim Sabin paid Rebecca visits. He scratched his grain buzz cut as the woman
looked over the crime scene photos. Jim was used to these types of interviews,
asually glanced around the room, taking note of anything that could prove useful,
and then his gray eyes landed on a photo of the beautiful cheerleader,
and he slowly nodded to himself, that's our girl, all right. His
eyes shifted back to Rebecca as she shook her head. No, there's no
way that's my Jessica rist Jesus. It was like she had been holding her
breath for days. Jim, however, wasn't so sure. Are you absolutely
certain about that, ma'am? Yes, I know my own daughter. She
angrily tossed the photos back. Perhaps an in person visit will reveal something else,
if that's what you want, fine. Rebecca brought the man she was
seen at the time to the morgue. In this new environment, Jim decided
it would be best for the mother to wait outside while the man, whose
name history has ignored, examined the body. Well, the man and didn't
glance at her, instead shaking his head not to say no, but rather
in disbelief. He recognized a scar on her finger. Ma'am, there's no
doubt that's your daughter in there. I'm gonna make sure we catch the monster
who did this to her. You said she had a boyfriend. Rebecca pulled
herself together as best as she could. Coffee and she dried her tears.
Yes, Sean Thompson, I know he did this. Well, look sprow
that option, ma'am. Until then, get some rest if you can't,
and we'll contact you if we learn anything new. Rebecca was sent back home
as investigator sat down to hash out the latest details. Becky Westerfeld said her
counselor witnessed Jessica get in a fight with Sean over the phone, and she
kept rubbing a necklace with the word taken on it. And that necklace,
gifted to her by Sean, is now missing. So do we think he
raped her and snatched it back from her dead body? Gruesome but possible.
A detective savings, we found Sean Thompson in Georgia. Jim nearly dropped his
coffee Georgia, When blue blazes is he doing there? Our boys down south
say him and five others were on their way to a vacation in Florida.
You can ash on yourself soon. They send him back up to us.
Thanks. Vicky, the sheriff put on his stern face while Sean nervously tapped
the table and recalled everything from that night. Our breakup was foolish. There
was a party everyone was going to go to, and I thought she'd be
there too. Now we get back together. She didn't show up, so
I left to Florida. Strange you just kept down after your girlfriend shows up
dead. Sean looked up, bewildered, He started to quiver, then held
his head to hide his tears. Jim allowed the boy to have his moment,
then tapped the table. Sean looked back up at him with red eyes.
Sir, I was running away to floor because I was called burglarizing a
home. I didn't want to go to my court day and thought maybe his
voice trailed off as he stared blankly at the wall. I can't believe she's
dead. The tears are a great touch. We'll see if your DNA can
back them up. Sean's head nearly popped off as he looked up. Two
men entered and escorted him out as he tried to fight back and get more
answers DNA for what she raped the Something all Sean could do was watch Sheriff
Saban walk off in the opposite direction without giving any other details. The officers
pressed Sean by another room, where a short haired, blonde teenage boy sat
with his arms crossed. This was George Cole, and he had been with
Sean on their trip to Florida. We'll let me tell you George was a
real piece of work. Looks like it. Can't keep your hands to yourself.
Bud looked at all these sexual assault charges. You like taking advantage of
your classmates. What guy doesn't like sex? I like consensual sex. Bitch
ain't getting a lot of that. George's eyes transformed into those of a confused
child as the detective joined in on his laughter. You're one cocky little shit.
I heard how you bragged to your friends about raping Jessica. How did
you know she was murdered and raped? George found himself at a loss for
words. He tried to cover his fear by leaning back and stretching out his
legs. I wanted to impress the guys. Real men get laid whenever they
want. The detective forcefully grabbed George by his shoulder and guided him out of
the room and to the cells. You got a lot to learn about being
a man, kiddo. Like other sciences, DNA testing wasn't as advanced as
it is today. Still, it was accurate enough to show neither Sean nor
George had raped Jessica the night she was murdered. Pair that with no evidence
appearing in the getaway car, and what other choice do you have but to
release the boys. A lot of time was spent on Sean and his friends
and there was nothing to show for the work. With no new leads coming
in, the outcome appeared bleak for Jim and Rebecca. More than a decade
had gone by since Jessica Keene's murder, but Rebecca's determination for justice was as
strong as ever. What would Jessica have been doing today if she was still
alive. Could she have become an actress or singer like she'd always dreamed of,
or perhaps more realistically, she'd be opening up her veterinary clinic after studying
zoology at Ohio State University. These thoughts passed through Rebecca's head as a carpool
up beside her at the red light. She turned to the man and watched
us he fished inside his nose. Did you kill one little girl? The
other driver finally found that troublesome nasal mucus and examined it, slowly rubbing it
between his thumb and forefinger, just a few seconds before popping it between his
lips. Like the rest of us, Rebecca grimaced, we are certainly disgusting
enough. The man turned and locked eyes with her. He nodded and politely
waved, and Rebecca fiend pleasantries. As the light turned green and they went
their separate ways. Even during everyday events like this, Rebecca felt her mind
slipping away and wondering what monster would have taken her daughter's life. The public
certainly wasn't going to easily forget what happened to Jessica, as every so often
the networks would run an Unsolved Mystery special on her murder. Sheriff Sabin occasionally
stopped at Foster Chapel Cemetery to retrace the cheerleader's steps, just in case something
new popped up. Her footprints had longed and spanished, but the fence and
distant farmhouse remained. If only they could speak to him. But of course
they couldn't, and maybe now it was time to pass the case along to
a fresh set of eyes. Enter the Ohio Bureau of Criminal Investigations and Special
Agent Greg cost Us. He read over the old pages with a nod.
All right, so they focused on this Sean and George, we can't do
that anymore since their DNA rules them out. But the other four in the
Florida car, maybe they're involved. All four men submitted their DNA and partook
and polygraph tests. None were a match, and all passed the tests Sean
and his friends are out done. Finished nadios. Greg bit his pen and
stared off into space for a new idea. CODIS. It wasn't around yet
when she was murdered. Maybe we can get a hit off or killer's DNA.
The Combined DNA Index System or CODIS, houses DNA profiles for individuals linked
to violent crimes. Aligned investigators all across the country to team up and perhaps
trace where an unknown criminal from several years ago resides today. In nineteen ninety
six, Ohio law required anyone convicted of a violent crime to submit DNA to
the state's database. Greg hoped Jessica's killer was found guilty of some other crime
and wound up inside this database. Greg entered the lab and found remnants of
evidence from days long gone. With the shuffle of a few vials, he
located what he came for and lifted the clear test tube. Found you,
my little friend. There was just one tiny problem. The DNA sample scrape
from Jessica's body seemed to be gone. Panicked, Greg turned to forensic scientist
Max Layer Johnny. Do not worry, Gregg. The sample has been tested
numerous times over the years, so naturally it is depleted. But if I
can find at least one cell, I can make a match. With a
snap of his rubber gloves, Max took the sample and got to work.
Greg returned to his office and prepared to wait whatever agonizingly long time he had
to My god, we have a little something in there still seventeen years and
it survived. It was March seventeenth, two thousand and eight, seventeen years
to the day that Jessica was found. By the way. When maxim put
the DNA sample into codis, he bit down on his lip and prayed for
a match. Greg waited impatiently in his office until Greg castus, Greig,
thank god, you answered, I'm going to make your day. Are you
sitting down? Greg looked around and flopped down into his desk chair. Yeah,
yex give me the news. The man you want is Marvin Lee Smith
Junior. Greg's browsing it together as he tried to figure out what exactly this
meant. He slowly nodded his head. Great, Max, love it,
love it. Who the hell is Marvin Lee Whatever? That is up to
you to find out and find out he would. Research had taught Greg that
Marvin had once lived in a part of Columbus known as the Short North,
and five months after Jessica's murder, found himself guilty on two counts of robbery
and kidnapping, unrelated to Jessica. Of course. He was imprisoned for nine
years, during which he submitted a sample of his DNA. Presently he lived
in North Carolina, and Greg was determined to lock him back up. As
Greg stepped away from a car and prepared for his flight out of CMH,
an attorney put a gentle hand on his arm. Remember Greg, careful with
your questions. If you realize that you found his burm inside her, you
could easily say they knew each other and had consensual sex the night she died.
Her mom would know he was lying. The attorney raised an eyebrow.
You tell your mom about every girl you fucked when you were fifteen, right,
I'll be cautious. Greg waited patiently outside Marvin's job, coffee in his
hand, sunglasses covering his eyes. He soon spotted the elderly gentleman leaving the
building, his tight, curly gray hair shining in the sun. It was
strange to see a killer walking slow and looking so frail, but soon became
obvious the years had taken a toll on him. There, yard dirt bag,
Greg pulled himself away from his car and carefully approached the killer. Marvin
sat his bottle of soda on the picnic table while packing his red one hundreds.
Oh good afternoon, sir, Marvin said, while saving his refried cigarette.
How can I help you today, Marvin Lee Smith Junior. That's me.
Greg flashed his badge and Marvin's facade fell. Oh what now, my
buddy and I need to talk to you Back at the office. Marvin nervously
fiddled with his blue vest and name badgess. He sat at the entire Asian
room table. Greg entered with a file and slight smirk, then took a
seat across from the hunched man. Greg looked his thumb, pulled out a
photograph of Jessica and placed it before Marvin. You by chance know this young
lady. Marvin carefully examined it before shaking his head. No, sir,
I never seen it before. Her name's Jessica Lynn Keene and she was found
raped and murdered in an Ohio cemetery back in ninety one. I'm sorry to
hear that your DNA was on several different items at the crime scene. I
would got there, I don't know, not by me. I can't explain
that I don't know the girl. Greg smiled as he wrote down the number
one and eighteen zeros after it. The statistics are that it's one in a
quintillion, that it's somebody other than you. Do you know how many zeros
are in a quintillion? A lot? Marvin sat back, defeated as Greg
triumphantly laid the sheet of paper before him. Eighteen zeros. Pal Marvin and
placed a sturdy hand on the table and glared up at Greg. I don't
know what you want me to say. I don't know who the hell that
girl is. I expect you don't. You picked her up from the bus
stop because he needed to get your rocks off. It wasn't the first time
you've done something like that, Marvin. Only she was strong and escaped,
which pissed you off. The little girl was getting away from you if you
could help it, so you chased her down in the dark and bashed her
over the head with a tombstone. Marvin had turned away in silence. I
never seen that bitch before. We'll see what the Ohio courts, saying Marvin
was extradited up to Ohio after current DNA sample matched the one found on Jessica's
body. Marvin must have had a damn good lawyer, too, because in
two thousand and nine, he avoided a death penalty trial in exchange for pleading
guilty to aggravated murder with specifications of rape and kidnapping. Instead of death.
Marvin was sentenced to thirty years to life in prison, but without a death
penalty trial. We have to take what Marvin told the panel of three judges
in the Madison County Common Police Court as the truth. She got in my
car. I raped her before she escaped. I chased it through a cemetery
before being now to death with the seventy pound grave marco he had a so
hard a thing snapped in half. His testimony certainly seemed to match the evidence.
After the trial, Jessica's family would place across where she collided with the
fence post. But before they could honor her memory, they watched as Marvin
was dished his punishment. When Jim Sabin described her daughter's corpse, Rebecca had
to leave the room, and then as Marvin pleaded guilty, she quivered.
When it came time for the family to give their impact statements to Marvin,
Rebecca gathered up her courage, looked the killer square in the eyes and said,
do you feel the heat? Do you feel his presence? Do you
smell the sickening odor? He's right there, smiling, standing right behind you.
It's the Devil himself, ready to take you. Whistle in the Graveyard.
Summon the Devil was written and produced by me Skyler Fastonel with the voice
talents of Jessica about a Fuco Jeremy Staple, Madeleine Weymouth, Matthew McNelly,
Alan Anthony Morion, Daniel Jones, Sophia Sasney, and Carly bell. Our
beautiful new theme song was written and performed by Tracy Zales. Thank you for
listening in on another chapter of the original Dead Time Stories. Now. I
know you definitely loved what you just heard, but make sure the rest of
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back before you know it with another chapter for you to enjoy. Until then,
stay safe out there. I don't want you to become the next chapter's
topic on the original Debt Time Stories,