Voyeur
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Hey everyone, it's Trevor Henderson here with another episode of Mayfair Watcher Society. If you enjoyed the show, consider leaving a review on Spotify or Apple Podcasts. Reviews are one of the best ways to get our show into the ears of new listeners. We're now 18 episodes into our season, and we have just six episodes left. Our final episode is scheduled to release on April 17th, but don't worry, we'll be back before you even knew we were gone. Stay tuned for more news about the future of Mayfair. And now, this week's episode.

We are The Watchers.

Observers of the strange, paranormal, occult, unwelcome, unspiritual, horrifying, mystical, secret, transcendent, repulsive, captivating, unwelcome, appalling, gruesome, unseen, magic, weird, revolting, horrifying, unseen.

Welcome to Mayfair Watchers Society. The date is May 27th and the time is 1143 AM. This is Officer Marisha Lloyd recording. State your name for the record, please. Ambrose Hayes.

For the sake of posterity, it should be stated that at 8.14 a.m. yesterday morning, Mr. Hayes chose to voluntarily remand himself into the custody of Mayfair, P.D. After being detained at his own request, Mr. Hayes gave officers permission to enter and search both his residence on Maple Avenue and a storage locker he rents in the Mill District Unit 131.

Do you confirm the above to be true in its entirety? I do. Very good. I'd like you to tell me about what we found, Mr. Hayes. Where would you like me to start? From the beginning. It'll be a long story if I do. Mr. Hayes, I'm going to be real with you. This is already going to be the rest of my week. It doesn't matter to me if this takes ten minutes or ten hours. Just give it to me from the beginning. I never meant to make anyone uncomfortable. To cause suffering was never my intention.

I know what you're thinking, but it's not. It wasn't... He was never like that. It's not sexual, it's... You must understand, I was always a very shy child. It's never been easy for me to talk to people.

I've always purred looking and listening rather than being watched or talked to myself. I know I said to start from the beginning, but unless this is directly relevant, I'm going to have to ask you to keep to more recent events. Oh, of course. I'm sorry? Why don't you tell me how this all started? Here, or in general? This behavior didn't start with Mayfair? No. Well, not the CCTVs at the very least.

Tell me about them. They're a particular bad habit of mine, I'll admit. Everywhere I move, I find myself invariably turning to them. I always tell myself I won't, that this time I'll stop. I'll break free of this behavior and try to be a bit more sociable for once, but... Mayfair's was so easy. So, you couldn't help yourself, but hack into them? It would be incredibly generous to call it hacking, officer. What do you mean?

The security protocols of Mayfair's public surveillance are really quite abysmal. To be honest with you, they might have been more secure if whoever had set them up in the first place had done as little as set the user login to Mayfair underscore CCTV and the password to 123456. That doesn't sound particularly secure. It is more secure than the default login, I promise you.

God, this fucking town. Alright, um, continue. Please know that I don't expect you to understand, officer. You need not make the attempt. It's only that I find it... calming, I suppose. Comforting. There's something about watching the world go about its business that grounds me. Sure. Listen, if it had stopped at just the CCTVs, I'd probably have told you to go home and stop wasting our time. But, we both know that's not where it ends.

Yes. And you're telling me that started here, in Mayfair? As I said, yes. Tell me about it. There was a girl, and I know how this sounds, so please just hear me out. I should start at the beginning, like you said. A handful of months after I had moved to Mayfair, I started leaving the CCTVs on while I worked. You must have seen that I've got a bank of monitors. I don't really watch them. It's... I suppose it's like sitting your desk next to a window so you can see what's going on outside.

What I do can be very emotionally taxing. And when that happens, I like to look over and just see someone. Someone who's not in that position. But you don't really get that with a window. You can't be guaranteed someone's going to be there. With the monitors, though, there's always someone somewhere. And whenever I needed a break, I got in the habit of finding someone and watching them for a while.

There's really something to seeing someone live their quiet little life. A life you know so little about. Like I said before, it grounds me. What do you do? I beg your pardon? Your work. You said it's emotionally taxing. What do you do? Ah, I'm afraid I'm not at liberty to say. You do realize how that looks from this side of the table, don't you? I do. It's not a matter of unwillingness. I am, for legal reasons, not at liberty to say.

You'll have to secure a release from my employers. And who are your employers? Oh, goddammit. Why don't you tell me about the girl, Mr. Hayes? It was September, I think, of that first year. About ten in the evening, I believe. She was hit by a car at a crosswalk. A sedan. If the cameras were in colour, I could have told you more. She rolled over the hood mercifully. At first, the car slowed, and then it sped away. A hit-and-run accident.

Did you report this to the police? I did, anonymously. I said I'd been on a bus passing by when it had happened, and was therefore unable to stay at the scene. Anyone who bothered to check the CCTVs or even the bus schedule would have known that was a lie, of course. But I have to say something. Continue. My heart broke for her. She was worse than alone in that moment, and all I could do was watch as she dragged herself out of the street and onto the sidewalk.

I thought about going to her. I knew what street it was. It wasn't all that far in the grand scheme of things. But then, how would I explain it if I did? And besides, I didn't have a car at that point. The chances of my getting to her before emergency services did was slim to none. So I watched and, I suppose, hoped she could tell somehow that she had not been abandoned. Even through the monitors, even through the CCTVs, I could see that she was shaking. Shock, probably.

I stayed with her in my own way until help arrived. And how exactly does this relate to what we found in your storage unit, Mr. Hayes? I was worried about her. So, you started watching her? I'm ashamed to say I did. How? Did you know her previously? Was she someone you recognized? No, no, we'd never met. But she was in the paper the next day. Just a short article about the hit and run. Her mother gave a statement. Ah, okay.

Yes, sorting out who she was from there was very simple. Mayfair's not a very big place, all things considered. Truthfully, I... I just wanted to send her a card while she was in hospital. You're telling me you went as far as to find out which hospital room she was in? I did, yes. That's not generally information made available to the public. It is not, no. Got it. And you sent her a card? No, I... found myself overthinking it.

I thought she might find it alarming receiving a card from a stranger. I sent flowers instead. I thought it might come off a bit less... confronting. That was supposed to be the end of it. But it wasn't. No, it wasn't. Tell me about it. When she was released from the hospital, I told myself I would be content with that. She was recovering. She was free to return to her daily life. It was no longer my business. But it was your business before. I suppose it wasn't, was it?

But that's the way these things go, you know? There's a sort of madness to isolation. You come to feel close to people you've never even spoken to. For my part, I came to think of her as a sort of daughter figure in a way. Do you spend a lot of time alone, Mr. Hayes? I do. And this is... related to your work? To a certain extent, yes. I hope you understand that I cannot say more than that. Of course. Continue.

If I may be frank, both Mayfair and her residents suffer from something of a system security issue. I won't say it was easy. Your average person would not have been capable. But for anyone with the requisite knowledge and experience, locating and accessing a laptop camera remotely is not all that herculean a feat. You started watching her at home? Not watching. Just checking in on. And this girl was how old? Twenty-two.

Very much Nadalt. Really, more of a young woman than a girl, I suppose. And it wasn't like that, I assure you. Not some sort of... Just continue, please. Right. It was very much a casual thing. And again, I told myself that once she was out of her cast, I'd stop. And then it was once she was off her crutches, and then... Et cetera, et cetera, so on and so forth. I'm sure you can imagine. All right.

I'm gonna speak freely for a second here. By all means. You know you've broken the law. You've confessed to that. I do, and I have. And you know why we're holding you. Of course. What I don't understand is why. People don't turn themselves in for no reason. Why are you here, Mr. Hayes?

I suppose your people are still going through the footage. They're still working on it, yeah. We're talking about literal years of CCTV video here. It's not a small project. Why? This would be much easier if you'd already seen it for yourself. Seen it? Seen what? Will you allow me to continue? Sure. After witnessing the hit and run, something awoke in me. A sort of morbid fascination with disaster.

I became quite transfixed by road accidents. They happen often here, you know. More often than they ought to. Statistically, you mean. Yes, but also when taking other factors into consideration. Density of street lamps, quality of road maintenance, weather patterns. A driver in Mayfair is altogether more likely to rear-end a neighbour or clip a bumper than they really should be, all things considered. It's very odd. Mayfair's an odd place. I had noticed that, yes.

Continue. I started watching for them. I'd always made a habit of calling emergency services if something had happened and no one around seemed in a fit state to do so. But I began to take a deeper interest in the proceedings when it came to vehicular accidents in particular. There was the incident with the Laskin boy, if you recall. That got quite a bit of press. That was the jaywalker who caused a three-car pileup, wasn't it? That would be the one.

Yeah, I remember it. I came to have a collection of sorts. Of survivors. And you started watching them, like you did with the girl from the hit-and-run? Yes. And you're saying you never attempted to contact any of them? No. Though, perhaps I should have. How do you figure? I'll get to that in due time, officer. This really would have been so much easier if you'd seen it in the footage.

I would have compiled the relevant parts prior to coming here, but to do so would have lent itself to accusations of tampering, I'm afraid, and my ability to direct your search is somewhat more limited than you might realize. I hope you will believe me when I say that if I could have prevented your people from having to pore through hours upon hours of video, I certainly would have done so. But as long as they're paying attention, they're sure to spot it eventually. Can you at least tell me what we're supposed to be looking for?

A man of sorts. You're not seriously suggesting what I think you are, are you? Like I said, this would have been much easier if you had seen it for yourself already. Would you like me to continue? Sure. Go ahead. Eighteen months ago, an elderly man suffered a massive coronary while driving home from his granddaughter's First Communion.

Left unable to control his vehicle, he ran a red light at the next intersection and struck a passing car on its side, killing the driver instantly and wounding its young passenger. You're talking about Cole Vidra's accident. I am. Are you saying you came here under false pretenses? Not at all. I've broken the law and I expect I'll be punished for it. Well, should my employers allow that to occur. If I came here for another purpose as well, then more the better for you, I believe.

You seem... I've seen a lot of crazy in my time on the force. You don't strike me as crazy. Thank you. What do you know about Cole Vidra? I know the young man was very troubled by his accident. It appears to have affected him deeply. Yeah, well, being t-boned by a dead man and then trapped in a crushed car with the corpse of your father will do that to you. Certainly. What do you know?

I know that he began to demonstrate a similar fixation to my own. He was a bit more hands-on, in my opinion. He certainly was. I took an even greater interest in him than the usual as a result. Perhaps it was because he'd lost his father, but watching him, I felt a bit like I'd always imagined I might if I were lucky enough to have a son who shared a passion of mine. Mr. Hayes, I need you to be honest with me.

Did you know what he was planning? You were monitoring him. I was. And you had no idea? None. How is that possible? I have always endeavored not to pry into the private affairs of my wards more than necessary. If I had known, I... Would you have turned him in? Truthfully, I don't know. I think I might have tried to talk to him. Let him know he wasn't alone.

They didn't need to... I do think he would have forgiven me if I had confessed to it all. All things considered, I really ought to have tried. Continue, please. I first learned what he had discovered when he began posting about it on the message boards. What he'd discovered? Didn't do much digging, did you? Of course we did. Vidra was troubled. Traumatized. He was seeing things, and he...

needed the world to see them too. It's a sad story, but nothing unusual. And you're very sure about that? You're sure he was merely seeing things? I know he was unnecessarily cryptic in his delivery, but surely you'll have seen the photos by now. Of course. Then you know he was seeing something not entirely restrained to his own delusions. Listen, I'll be the first to admit that we can't prove they're faked, but that doesn't mean they're real.

We're not sitting on our asses around here. We checked. We looked. Witnesses to the scenes didn't see anything unusual, and what he claimed to have seen doesn't show up on any of the CCTV footage. Something you should know better than anyone come to think of it. Oh, I do. You're quite right. It doesn't show up in the footage. Not while it's playing. What? It's in the frames. The still images.

I assure you, if you look, you'll find it. Always in the frames, but never in the flow of them together. That doesn't make any sense. Things in Mayfair often don't, in my experience. Just to clarify, you're saying you've seen this thing? Personally? Personally as in, in person? No. I don't imagine anyone has. What do you mean? If it's real, like you're claiming, Vidra would have to have seen it.

He was screaming about it when officers arrived on scene. He was screaming for it to reveal itself to him, I believe. It's not a thing you see, I'm afraid. That's not how it works. Explain. Vidra believed that it could be manifested into the world by a... a sufficient concentration of suffering, as I understand it. He was, of course, mistaken. It is not something you see with your eyes. Not here. Not in this world, which is always in motion. The eye is a camera, certainly.

but one which only produces video. You can't pause your vision, can't reduce it to its stills. I've thought about it, considered if it might not be possible. If I were to stand and stare unblinking at a scene until its image burned itself into my eyes, when I close them, would I see it there in the negative, I wonder, smiling at me from the underside of my eyelids? I've never tried it, but I have wondered.

You're claiming this thing is real. That you sincerely believe it's real. I am. I do. But no one can see it. Not in person, no. Not with the naked eye. And not in video. Not while the frames are in motion. Only while they are paused. Or if a video has been reduced to its composite images. So, only in photos? Of a sword, yes. Okay, I'll hear from you. Why?

I don't know. Why does anything work the way it does? Why are you here, Mr. Hayes? Why did you come here? Because I want it to be understood beyond all possible doubt that Cole Vidra was not mad. You can't seriously be defending his actions. I'm not. What he did was vile, and I cannot find fault with the responding officers for reacting the way they did. He was capable of great evil, clearly, but not mad.

You'll have to pardon me, Mr. Hayes, but what he did? It doesn't exactly strike me as the actions of a sane man. In fact... Oh, hold that thought. I'll be right back. By all means. What's this about? I'm in the middle of interviewing the perp. You're joking. We went over that footage with a fine-tooth comb. There's no fucking... There's no way we could have missed that. Hold on a second.

What did you do? Beg your pardon? I know you have access to the CCTVs. You admitted that. Now, we're suddenly seeing something we didn't see before. That's a hell of a coincidence. What did you do? Hmm. Certainly would not be impossible for me to have done something. That's true enough. How did you do it? It's pretty impressive. Why don't you tell me about it? Why don't you sit back down so we can continue our conversation? Get Mac on it. She's got a good eye. Okay, good. Let me know if she finds anything, alright?

Explain this to me. How'd you do it? I wonder. I'm curious how precisely you think I could have managed to edit the individual frames of video in such a manner as to render the effects invisible during playback. You're the one who said it can only be seen in the stills. That is true, but...

But having said that does not mean I am capable of achieving the impossible. There is no fucking way we wouldn't have seen this guy during our initial investigation of Vidra. Somebody would have had to have paused at some point. Oh, I'm quite sure someone did. At least one of your colleagues must have spotted it at some point in the past, officer. As you said, pauses are inevitable.

A coffee break, a trip to the toilets. It's quite unavoidable. Yeah, I get that. It's just one of the- But when it subsequently vanished during playback, I imagine they must have assumed it was a trick of the imagination. A proverbial smudge on the lens. And then, when they paused again, perhaps it was gone. Banished by the appearance of the first responders or a good Samaritan. You would be amazed what a person can justify or excuse in the absence of anything to convince them the evidence of their own eyes should not be discarded.

For my part, I'm not surprised at all. I was much the same at first. What is it? I don't know. Is it a person? I don't know. What does it want? Like I said, officer, I truly have no idea. I'm not sure the man with the upside-down face wants anything, except perhaps to be present and witness to the spectacle of suffering. It neither harms nor helps, as far as I can tell. It merely observes.

and it does so very reliably. I'm ashamed to say Vidra caught on rather quicker than I did. I only realized and thought to look for it when he began to make reference to it in his posts. You really ought to have started with the footage of his crime. I'd have told you to, if I'd felt I'd be listened to. His present throughout took quite a fancy to it, it would seem. I was under the impression Cole Vidra thought this guy was... This thing causes accidents. I believe he was. You don't agree?

To be honest, officer, I don't know. Whether it creates suffering or merely takes pleasure in the spectacle of it is beyond my ability to say. In any case, I do not believe it to have been the cause of Vidra's actions. I believe he acted on his own will alone. Tell me about that day. You were watching, weren't you? I was. Tell me about it. Truly had no idea what he was planning. He made a habit of frequenting spots in Mayfair that are particularly accident-prone.

It was morbid, certainly, but harmless. Or so I thought. Everyone copes differently with loss. I had an inkling that Vidra was waiting to witness an accident, was under the impression he was driven by a need to experience a sort of remote perspective to his own tragedy. But it never occurred to me that he could... You're the one who called us. It was you. Yes.

Once I realized what he was doing, and that he had no intention of allowing the survivors to contact emergency services, I... I called. Yes. I called. Seven minutes. It took you... It took you seven minutes to call us. Seven minutes. After he drew his weapon on those people. Yes. Why? Why? I'd begun to think of him as a son. I hesitated. Why?

A man died because of your hesitation. I know. You may rest assured I am aware of the consequences of my inaction. I was witness to them in the moment, and they have burdened me ever since. How quickly do you imagine you could draw your sidearm on your kin? Do you earnestly believe you wouldn't hesitate? Not even for a moment?

I don't make a habit of adopting psychopaths. I had no way of knowing what he would become after his accident. I guess that's true enough. Even now, I can't bring myself to hate him. I want so badly to believe I could have averted this disaster if I had only had the courage to reach out to him. But I'll never know, will I? My inaction, my hesitation, it cost Mayfair dearly.

But in the end, he was never my son. And I realized that far too late. What? What the hell is that supposed to mean? Like I said, you ought to have looked at the footage of Vidra's crime first. We were both watching. The man with the upside-down face and I. But only one of us was enjoying his handiwork. It was there. It was there the whole time. The feed froze for a moment while it was happening. You wouldn't see it if you watched it back now.

It was a technical glitch, not something you'd see reflected in the footage. But I swear to you, there was a moment there where the feed froze. A still image. Mr Hayes? It was looking at me. I swear to... It was looking at me. Like it could see me. Like I was a part of it. A part of the spectacle.

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Mayfair Watchers Society is based on the works of Trevor Henderson. Voyeur was written by Cale Brown. The interview was played by Brad Colebrook. Ambrose Hayes was played by Vic Collins. And Officer Lloyd was played by Janine Bauer. The dialogue editor was Daisy McNamara. The sound designer was Travis McMaster. The music was by Matt Royberger. The showrunner is Pacific S. Obadiah. The creative director is me, Trevor Henderson.

and it was produced by Tom Owen and Brad Miska, a Bloody FM show.