Three Real Imposter Nightmares: Fake Uber Drivers, The Tourist From Hell, and more
A college student gets into what she thinks is her rideshare. A speech therapist spends years pretending to be someone's mother. And a backpacker in Singapore accepts a stranger's offer to split a hotel room…then never calls home.
Three stories about the people who slipped through the cracks. By the time anyone realized something was wrong, it was already too late.
TW: Descriptions of Dismemberment, Mention of Self Harm
Subscribe on Patreon to become a member of our Rogue Detecting Society and enjoy ad-free listening, monthly bonus content, merch discounts and more. Members of our High Council on Patreon also have access to our weekly after-show, Footnotes, where I share my case file with our producer, Matt.
You can also enjoy many of these same perks, including ad-free listening and bonus content when you subscribe on Apple Podcasts .
Follow on Tik Tokand Instagram for a daily dose of horror.
SOURCES
https://www.gofundme.com/samantha-lee-josephson-memorial-fund
https://www.facebook.com/seymour.josephson/posts/10217285604359565
https://www.sc.edu/about/our_leadership/president/letters/aletter_tothe_carolina_family.php
https://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/1ncdfnf/speech_therapist_pretends_to_be_my_mother/
A British Serial Killer in Singapore: A True Story by Tan Ooi Boon. May 1996.
https://mustsharenews.com/john-martin-scripps-serial-killer/
https://www.upi.com/Archives/1995/10/02/Britons-murder-trial-begins-in-Singapore/7389812606400/
https://capitalpunishmentuk.org/john-martin-scripps-the-tourist-from-hell/
https://www.express.co.uk/news/uk/1815110/butcher-killer-john-martin-scripps
UK reporters lied to prison officials to see murder suspect. The Straits Times, 21 Sept. 1995
Footage of Changi Airport c. 1995:
https://youtu.be/LuTezDk6BjM?si=QFHMHwZkghkAIQb3
https://www.nlb.gov.sg/main/article-detail?cmsuuid=c19f4804-5b27-4174-91aa-60e40d8cbeae
TRANSCRIPT
Welcome to Heart Starts Pounding, I’m your host, Kaelyn Moore. Today, we’re talking about the imposter.
Now, normally I consider myself a good judge of character, but I think that’s why the stories I want to share with you today scared me so much. Because theyre about times someone snuck into someone elses life so quickly or so subctly that by the time they were figured out, it was too late. And usually it had deadly consequences.
But before we dive in I wanted to remind everyone that if you’re interested in joining our book club this time around, we’re reading Slewfoot: a Tale of Bewitchery by Brom. It’s a dark fantasy novel set in Colonial New England, focusing on the conflict between paganism and Puritanism through the story of a young widow, Abitha, and an ancient forest spirit known as Slewfoot. I’m loving it so far, so grab a copy and join us over on patreon to participate. Even the free tier is welcome to participate. We’ll be discussing the book in mid may, the specific date is to be determined.
Alright, let’s get into it.
One of the most common themes in urban legends is the idea of the imposter. A person infiltrating your life under the guise of someone else. Usually having sinister intentions.
I think back to this legend that I heard growing up.
Back in the 1940’s, a couple in a small town was having a halloween party. The Radfords. Everyone on their block showed up dressed in costume. Ghosts with bedsheets over their heads, Witches with hats and brooms.
Now, the married couple next door, said they were stopping by another party first before coming over, so when the doorbell rang at 11pm, that’s who the Radfords assumed had arrived
And sure enough, standing at the door were two people, a man and a woman. At least, that’s what it looked like. The pair were so heavily costumed it was hard to tell who they were. The woman had on a Dorthy style dress from the Wizard of Oz, and the man was in scarecrow outfit. But both of their faces were obscured by masks. Not character masks, though. Tanned, leathery masks that looked like they were pulled straight off a corpse and stretched over their faces.
The Radford’s thought this was just like their neighbors’ to do, they always wore the most outlandish costumes to these parties.
That night the party raged on as normal. When sometime around midnight, the doorbell rang again. And again. And again.
Now, the couple wasn’t really expecting anymore guests, but Mr. Radford went over and opened the door anyways. And what he saw made him stop in his tracks. There, standing on his porch, was the couple next door dressed as Hansel and Gretel.
He turned around to find the couple he thought were his neighbors. But they were nowhere to be found. No one in the party had seen where they went.
And just then, he heard his wife scream.
She had gone to check on their two children sleeping upstairs, Only to find two empty beds.
The Radford children were never found.
It’s a terrifying legend. But that’s all it’s supposed to be, a legend, created to warn us to stay on our toes, to be aware of who we invite into our home and into our lives.
But there’s a reason that stories like this exist. Because sometimes an imposter really does slip through the cracks.
On the night of March 28th, 2019, Samantha Josephson went out with friends in Five Points, a bar district near the University of South Carolina. Samantha was a student there. At 21 years old, she was weeks away from graduating with a political science degree and a full scholarship to Drexel University's law school waiting for her in the fall. By all accounts, she had everything going for her, and a lot to celebrate that night.
Around 2 a.m., Samantha decided to head home from the bar, called The Bird Dog. She said goodbye to her friends, stepped outside, and pulled up a ride share app on her phone.
And then she stood on the curb, alone, and waited for her ride. Her friends watched as eventually, a black Chevy Impala pulled up to the curb, Samantha got inside, and she was driven off into the night.
The next morning, Samantha's roommates realized she never came home. They called her. No answer. Her boyfriend tracked her phone — it had pinged heading away from Columbia before going dark somewhere around 3 a.m. By early afternoon, Columbia Police had a missing persons case open.
And then, around 1:30 that same afternoon, about 65 miles east of Columbia, in a wooded area outside the small town of New Zion — a group of turkey hunters were out hunting, when they saw something laying in the woods.
It was the body of a young woman, stabbed approximately 120 times. It was Samantha. The medical examiner found wounds all over her body. One wound went entirely through her right hand — she'd used it to shield herself.
Who would have done this to a college student who had everything ahead of her.? Columbia PD quickly learned from her friends that the last time Samantha was seen, she was getting into a ride share car.
So, they went back to five points and they pulled security footage from every bar they could. And they saw Samantha get into the car, but it was the footage from 10 minutes before that really disturbed them.
What Samantha didn't know when she stepped into the vehicle— what she couldn't have known — was that for the last ten minutes, that black Chevy Impala had been circling the block.
Surveillance cameras in Five Points captured the whole thing. The Impala was seen driving erratically, making U-turns. Pulling into parking lots for no reason. At one point, it was even driving the wrong way down a one-way street. Around 2 a.m., the car pulled into a parallel parking spot near a restaurant, cut its lights, and just... sat there. For three and a half minutes. Then the lights came back on and it pulled back into traffic.
At 2:08 a.m., Samantha is visible on camera, standing near the corner of a shop, phone in hand, checking for her driver. At one point, she walks toward a silver car and tries to get in — but that’s not her ride. The car is seen pulling away without her, and she steps back to the curb.
And then, at 2:09, the black Impala pulls into a parking spot right next to her. Samantha opens the back door and gets in.
The car drives away. And a minute later, Samantha’s actual ride share diver cancels her ride when she fails to show up.
She was never seen alive again.The surveillance footage of the black Impala was distributed amongst officers in the area. They were told to watch for it. And the very next night — less than 24 hours after the murder — a patrol officer spotted the car. Two blocks from Five Points. The same car, back in the same neighborhood
So The officer pulled it over. The driver was a 24-year-old man named Nathaniel Rowland. He cooperated at first. But when the officer told him his car matched a suspect vehicle, Rowland ran. He was caught after a short foot chase. But he wouldn’t have to answer any questions from the police, because what was found in his car spoke volumes.
blood was everywhere — on the seats, the ceiling, the doors, the trunk. A cell phone, belonging to Samantha, was in the car. There were also bottles of liquid bleach, germicidal wipes, and window cleaner in the backseat. He had clearly tried to clean it but had done a horrible job.
And, most disturbing of all was something found on the rear driver-side window. It was A bare footprint, pressed into the glass. Forensic analysts matched it to Samantha using friction ridge patterns on the sole of her foot. She had kicked at the window so hard she'd broken her platform sandals off her feet.
Nathaniel Rowland was arrested, and his trial began in July 2021. Over the course of a week, prosecutors called nearly three dozen witnesses and built the case piece by piece — the surveillance footage, the cell phone tracking data, the DNA under Rowland's fingernails, the blood on a two-bladed knife found in the trash behind his girlfriend's home. Witnesses testified they'd seen him cleaning the blade.
And this is where the jury learned what had happened that night Prosecutors told the court that Rowland was driving around his Impala, pretending to be a ride share driver. Once Samantha got into his car, he engaged the child safety locks, and With these locks on, the rear doors could only be opened from the outside.
When Samantha got into that backseat, once the door closed behind her, and she was trapped. She could not open the door. She could not roll down the window. The footprint on the glass was her trying to kick her way out.
Rowland had no connection to any ride share company. He was not a rideshare driver. He was just a man in a black car who pulled up to the curb.
The defense called no witnesses. Rowland did not testify. The jury deliberated for just over an hour before returning a guilty verdict on all three counts — murder, kidnapping, and possession of a weapon during a violent crime. Judge Clifton Newman sentenced Rowland to life in prison without the possibility of parole.
And the scariest fact of all was that No motive was ever established. When reporters asked the lead prosecutor why Rowland did this, his answer was simple: it was a random act of violence.
After Samantha's death, her parents founded the What's My Name Foundation, named for the simple safety practice of asking your rideshare driver to confirm your name before you get in. The #WhatsMyName campaign went national. It’s a really easy thing to do, and her family could be saving countless lives by reminding people to ask first.
South Carolina passed the Samantha L. Josephson Ridesharing Safety Act within weeks of her death. And in January 2023 Sami's Law was signed into affect— federal legislation that requires rideshare companies to create verifiable identification systems for their drivers.
Samantha’s story is harrowing, because it proves how easy it is for someone to sneak into your life. And by the time you realize something is wrong, it’s too late.
But, next I want to share with you a story I found about someone who realized, years later, that someone close to them had been an impersonator. Someone they trusted.
The story reads:
This is a situation I found out about around 8 months ago, but it has stayed in my mind ever since. For context, as a child I had severe speech delay. I was completely mute up until a few weeks before kindergarten. This caused me to have a speech impediment, which I technically still have to this day but to a lesser extent. I'm lucky enough that the letters I have trouble with match up with the letters often dropped in certain accents, so to the untrained ear I sound British or Australian depending on who you ask. Because of this, I often just confirm their accents assumption because it's easier to lie about being British than to explain the speech impediment thing and face any stigma that goes with it. The only people who know the truth are very close friends and family.
Onto the story, I (18F) was dating a girl (18F). We are no longer seeing each other but for reasons unrelated to the story. We were at a social event when we met up with one of her friends (19F). I technically have known this girl since gr.9 as well, but not well. So we as a group get to talking. Randomly, completely unrelated to the current conversation, friend asks me how my mom is doing. I'm caught off guard because that's not usually something you throw into a conversation without knowing said mom. So I ask back "why, do you know her?" Friend goes on to explain that "my mom" used to be her EA and had helped her work out her behavioral issues all throughout elementary and middle school. Now this is weird, because although my mom did work in a school for a brief time, she was a lunchtime supervisor and only ever worked in one elementary, a elementary school I know the friend didn't go to. So I ask friend if she's sure it was my mom, because she wasn't an EA. Friend confirms because "my mom" used to talk about me all the time, and when friend was deciding which high-school to go to, "my mom" recommended my high-school because that the school "her daughter" went to. Now, within my high-school there were a few people with the same name as me, my name is about as basic white bitch as they come. So I ask friend, are you sure it's me who she was talking about and not one of the other people with my name. She once again confirms it was definitely me because "my mom" would tell her details about my life and told her about my time going to speech therapy.
Now hold up. As I said earlier, I am very secretive about the fact that I have a speech impediment. This friend is clearly someone I have never told, although I will admit it's not impossible to guess and the girl I was dating at the time could have told her. But I have never, and I mean never ever ever, told anyone about going to speech therapy. That's just never a detail I share when telling my life story. It's clear that someone who knows me "like family " is telling her this stuff, there no way friend could have accurately guessed so many details about my life.
So just to confirm that somehow my real mother doesn't have a double life, I ask friend what "my mother" looks like. She responds that she's somewhat short with curly brown hair. This is not my mother. My mother is tall and blonde. This though is exactly what my first speech therapist looked like. She was hired through the school district and I saw her for about 2 years before she switched to another school. She also works with a variety of special needs meaning it's very likely she went on to become friend's EA. But all this to say, somewhere out there this speech therapist is for some reason pretending to be my mother, and to some extent stalking me as she would have had to have done research to find out which high-school I went to.
Additional bonus story that I remembered while writing the post: When I was a child but after I had switched speech therapist, I was in a store with my mother where there was a shiny blue guitar. Me being a child and liking shiny blue things, really wanted this guitar. My mom clearly said no as it was expensive and I had shown little interest in playing the guitar besides watching my dad play his bass. I was disappointed but understood. Out of the blue, my first speech therapist shows up and buys the guitar for me. My mom told her she didn't have to, but my speech therapist insisted. At the time, this just seemed like a nice thing she did albeit overly generous, but now knowing she's parading around pretending to be my "real mom" it definitely paints the situation in a different light. I don't know how to feel about that gift now.
There's not much I can do about the situation as I don't even remember what the speech therapist's name was, so let's just hope we don't meet again
See, an impersonator doesn’t always have to be deadly. Sometimes it just feels like a huge violation of trust. You let someone into your life and they weren’t really who they said they were. Or they were using things they learned about YOU to fuel their fake backstory.
It really makes me wonder how we can ever trust those around us? Who’s to say that the person right beside you is who they actually say they are?
For our last story today, I want to talk about something really terrifying, and that’s meeting an imposter while you travel. Because sometimes the seeming kindness of a stranger can have disastrous consequences:
A little before 8AM on March 8th, 1995, South African Airlines flight 282 landed from Johannesburg at Changi (chang-ee) International Airport in Singapore.
On board was a 32-year-old engineer named Gerard Lowe. Now, Lowe had been itching to go to Singapore for a while. He heard that electronics were dirt cheap compared to back home. Orchard Road market, they said, was the best place in the world for techies. Lowe wanted to upgrade his home hi-fi setup, and also had a shopping list for friends and family. Before he left, Lowe told his wife Vanessa that he would call her once he found a hotel.
As he passed through the terminal, a man approached him. Like him, the other man was white, a tourist. He was tall, with brown hair and a British accent. He introduced himself as Simon Davis, said he was also a tourist, and he was looking for someone who wanted to split a hotel room with him so they could share the fee.
We don’t know exactly how Lowe felt about being approached by a stranger, but remember: the whole point of his trip was to save money. Every dollar off his hotel bill was another dollar he could spend on new tech. And so, he accepted the British man’s offer. They booked a room at the River View Hotel, just a ten minute drive away from the market.
After a day spent scoping out Orchard Road, the two men had dinner. Suffering from intense jet lag, they both went back to room 1511.
The following morning, at around 8AM, Simon Davis appeared at the hotel reception desk. He seemed stern and in a hurry. He told the woman on duty that he wanted Gerard Lowe removed from the reservation. He did not want to share a room with him again.
He explained that he’d kicked his roommate out last night, after Gerard had made a pass at him. He still intended to stay a couple more days, but he didn’t want to risk the man sneaking back into the room.
She did what he asked, and Davis remained in room 1511. Various members of the hotel staff saw him coming and going for the next few days, carrying bags of various sizes. He visited a bank and a Thomas Cook travel agency to withdraw cash and travelers checks. On the evening of the 10th, he attended the Singapore Symphony Orchestra at a nearby music hall.
The whole time, he was using Gerard Lowe’s credit card.
While he was out, a Chambermaid went up to the 15th floor to clean the room. The mess was the sort of thing she dealt with every day — filled trash cans, rumpled sheets. The bathroom was spotless, but it smelled weird. A little like bad fish. She looked up and down the room for the source of the smell, but never found anything.
Simon Davis checked out on March 11th. That evening, he caught a flight to Bangkok.
A few days later, a boatman named Lee was on his way back home after a long night of ferrying tourists around Clifford Pier off the coast of Singapore. His boat was a motorized sampan, which is sort of like a flat canoe common in East Asian countries. At around 10AM, his boat bumped into something floating in the water.
It was a black plastic trash bag. It had started to tear, and to his horror, he could see a sawed off human leg inside.
Lee went straight for the coast guard, who had a closer look. The bag had been weighted down, but the gases of decomposition had caused it to float to the surface. Inside were not one, but two human legs.
Forensic analysis determined that the legs belonged to a well-built caucasian man, with a shoe size of 7 and a half. They had been severed neatly at the joints. The scarring also indicated that the body had been dead at the time of the amputation. The bones were intact, meaning that whoever did this knew how to dislocate a socket before cutting off a limb.
Whoever did this, The forensic team said, had skills as a butcher. It’s very possible he’d done this before.
When they did a search for missing people in the area fitting that description, one name jumped out at them. Gerard Lowe. A missing persons report was filed by his wife Vanessa after he hadn’t called her that first night.
Back at the hotel, Assistant Superintendent Gerald Lim took over the case, and set about retracing Lowe’s steps. It led them to room 1511 at the River View Hotel, and when they looked at it again, it still had a strange smell in it.
Officers entered the bathroom, and inspecting the tiles, they saw some fine red dots by the shower head. They looked like blood. After talking with the hotel staff, they found a name for the man who shared a room with Gerad Lowe: Simon Davis.
If this Davis had something to do with Lowe’s death… where was he now? And if the way he’d dismantled the body wasn’t the work of a first-timer…when was he going to strike again?
On March 15th, Thai Airways Flight TG 13 took off from Bangkok to Phuket. Sheila Damude, a 49 year old Canadian school administrator, was on board with her 22 year old son Darin, who was on spring break. They would have stood out on a crowded airplane, because Darin had his leg in a cast from a recent injury. A row across from them sat a tall, slim British man.
It was Simon Davis, continuing his leisurely trip across Thailand.
Now, we don’t really know when Davis began talking to the Damudes. A Journalist covering the case at the time suggested that they started talking on the plane, but it’s difficult to fully verify this. But it could have been the same spiel that Davis had given Gerard. That he was a friendly tourist, looking to save a bit of money on his travels. What we do know is that Davis and the two Canadian Tourists wound up staying at the same hotel: Nilly’s Marina Inn.
The Canadians checked into room 43, and Davis checked into room 48.
The following morning, Sheila and Darin went down for breakfast before returning to their room. But then at 11 AM, Davis showed up at the counter. He had an odd request for the receptionist – he wanted to switch from room 48 to room 43. He said that his new Canadian friends had left suddenly and he’d volunteered to pay their bill.
That same day, back in Singapore, at about 7:55 AM, a pair of customs officers were preparing for a shift change near Clifford Pier. As one of the officers did his final check, he noticed a black plastic bag bobbing in the water, not far from where the boatman had found the severed legs two days earlier. As the officer pulled it in with a boat hook, he smelled rotting meat.
Coast guard boats combed the area and found two more floating trash bags.
Inside, police found a pair of thighs, and a full torso, minus the head and limbs. Just like the previous body parts, the cuts had been made with almost surgical precision. The body had no other wounds, and all the dismemberment had been post-mortem. Forensics could not determine the cause of death. Maybe if they found the head, they would know.
Some heads did turn up a few days later… but not the ones that the Singapore police were looking for. On March 19th in Thailand, the skulls of the two Canadian tourists were found by a disused tin mine.
At 8PM that evening, Simon Davis reappeared… in Changi International Airport in Singapore. He’d returned from Thailand to complete some unfinished business. He handed over his passport to the woman at immigration. She typed in his information, then froze.
The system informed her that the man was wanted by police.
Within minutes, a pair of officers descended on Davis. They handcuffed him and took him to a separate room for interrogation. The officers left him there, going to fetch police Inspector Lim who was in charge of the case.
While they were gone, Davis broke an observation window and attempted to cut his wrists. Officers arrived just in time to stop him.
When Lim arrived for the interrogation, the arresting officers gave him five passports that Davis had been carrying: Two British, two Canadian, and one South African. The passport photos of his victims had been replaced with the picture of himself. He was using their identities
Most damning of all, his checked luggage was filled with potential murder weapons. In the bags, police found a hammer, four knives, a sharpening stone, handcuffs, a can of mace and a battery operated electrical stun device.
Simon Davis refused to talk, but that was fine. Gerald Lim and his team finally had a pair of names to check.
Scotland Yard ran the British passports for them. They had surprising news: Simon Davis, according to British criminal records… was already in prison.
The man they were holding on suspicion of murder was actually a man named John Martin.
Ambience- investigative
John Martin had only been his legal name since 1986. Before then, he’d been known as John Martin Scripps. Born in 1959 in Hertfordshire, England, Scripps had developed a love of travel as a child, taking many trips abroad with his father. After his father died, he struggled at school, ultimately dropping out at age 15. He made a living on the streets doing odd jobs. Whatever money he earned, he used to travel, trying to recapture the freedom he felt in his youth.
But after every taste of freedom, he’d come crashing back down to earth. He went to Juvenile court several times as a teenager for burglary, leading up to a six-year prison sentence in his early 20s. After his release, he changed his name to John Martin and started drug running.
In 1987, he stashed one million dollars worth of heroin in a safety deposit box abroad. Not long after, he was detained at Heathrow Airport for possession of cocaine, and police found the safety deposit box key on him. Martin got a sentence of seven years, which was later extended to thirteen.
He went quiet for a while. But that wasn’t because he was through with his life of crime. Behind bars at Her Majesty’s Prison Albany, he was employed at the prison kitchen, learning how to butcher animals.
In October 1994, he sold all his remaining prison belongings. He bought a passport from another prisoner, Simon James Davis, and disappeared during home leave. He fled for Mexico, where he spent the winter of 1994. Not long after, his career as a serial killer began.
Sometime around January 12th, Martin took a solo trip to Belize. At around the same time, a British management consultant disappeared while holidaying there. Later, $30,000 moved from the man’s bank account to one of Martin’s accounts. The body was never found.
After he returned to Mexico, it seems his wanderlust returned. He flew to San Francisco, and from there to Singapore. There, he waited at the airport for a tourist like Lowe to fall into his trap.
On March 24th, the same day that Singapore authorities formally charged Martin with murder, hikers in Thailand discovered more of the missing Canadians’ body parts. A human torso, mostly skeletal by this point, and matching limbs, which had been separated at the joints.
The torso and limbs belonged to Darin Damude. His mother’s body would never be found.
By the time Martin went to court, inspectorLim had gathered witness statements from 77 people, piecing together a timeline for his travel in March 1995.
What did JMartin say in his own defense? He knew they could place him with Gerard Lowe on the night of March 8th, and they knew he flew to Phuket using a fake passport. So instead of denying these things, he told a completely different version of events. He claimed that he spent the night with Gerard Lowe in the hotel room, but woke up to Lowe standing over him in just his underwear, fondling his butt.
Martin, quote, “freaked out” and kicked Lowe away. During the struggle, Martin struck him in the head with his hammer.
When he’d had time to calm down, he dragged the body into the bathroom and went to meet another British friend at another hotel. This man, who he knew from prison, volunteered to help him dispose of the body. He took Martin’s room key and went back to the River View to dispose of the body.
Everything Martin did in the aftermath of Lowe’s death, including withdrawing money from Lowe’s bank accounts, he claimed to have done at the direction of this mysterious British friend. He said he never met the Canadians. Their passports were given to him by his British friend.
When asked to identify this friend, Martin refused, saying he would put himself in danger by giving this man’s name to the court. He said the man was called “Bad John” in prison, but gave no other identifying details.
Martin clearly intended to pin the crime on another man so that he could get away with more minor charges for forgery and accidental killing. There was no evidence that this “Bad John” existed, and the claim did not hold up under questioning.
The motive for the murders, the Prosecutors said, was obviously financial. Martin had stolen thousands in travelers checks and cash from his victims. Money was the reason he came back from Thailand and got caught. This wasn’t a criminal mastermind; this was a tourist who left a trail of dismembered corpses in his wake.
On November 10th, after a three day trial, the judge gave his decision: John Martin was guilty of murder, and sentenced to death.
Four days before his scheduled execution in April of 1996, he met with a journalist for a final interview. Before the reporter left, he offered some parting words: “They won’t hang me, I’m British."
After granting him a final meal of pizza and hot chocolate, they did just that. John Martin Scripps was dead at 36 years old. He’d never travel again.
The story of John Martin is a terrifying reminder that sometimes, the kind stranger offering to help you during your travels is not who they say they are.
Often, we think we’re too smart to allow someone like this into our lives, but it happens so fast. I mean, it’s pretty different to these stories but when I was 16, I was catfished online by a friend who was pretending to be a boy on AIM. My username back in the day was SoftballStar457, but I removed all the vowels so it kinda looked like Soft Blister 457, anyways, my friend told me she met a boy at a concert and gave him my screen name, and for the next year I talked to this kid, it wasn’t until years later, once the term Catfishing became a thing, that I realized it was just her.
I don’t know why she did that, and that makes it even scarier. Sometimes there is no motive, it’s just something someone chooses to do.
Have you ever met an imposter? Has anyone else ever been catfished online? Please, I can’t be the only one. Also tell me your embarrassing AIM usernames so I feel better about soft blister.
That is all I have for you today. Be sure to join me here next week, we’re doing another deep dive into a spooky location, this time we’re headed down to Florida, FLORIDAA!!, to figure out what the heck is happening in the Everglades, and why you should never go there.
And until then, stay curious.
OOoooOOOooo