Dear Daisy - My Stalker is a Real Threat!
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Hi everyone, welcome back to our podcast. This is Murder With My Husband. I'm Peyton Moreland. And I'm Garrett Moreland. And he's the husband. I'm the husband. Another Dear Daisy episode. These have actually become so fun for me. Like, I really look forward to recording Dear Daisies. So again, before we jump in, just a reminder, you can send your Dear Daisy. You can either email it in or you can just put it in through...

The links, there will be a link in the episode notes, link in all of our social medias. Just submit a Dear Daisy. These are different than case suggestions. Dear Daisies are personal stories, whether that's connections you have to some type of true crime, hauntings, ghost interactions, just something spooky that you found in the walls of your home. We want to hear about it and so does Daisy. All right, I'm just going to jump into the first one. Let's do it.

Says, Hi, Daisy and Peyton and Garrett. I found myself in the same boat as the listener who submitted their Italy story in the way that I don't find my life that exciting to share until I really start to think about it. I'll start by saying that due to the events that took place, my identity has been completely changed as per the recommendation of the detective assigned to my case. Oh, my gosh.

I was strongly suggested to move out of the state for my own safety, and I'm still finding myself paranoid and looking over my shoulder to this day. Well, I assume we're not going to say her name, correct? No. Okay, good. So a few years ago, I moved to Seattle to test out living in the PNW. It's a beautiful area with great food. The outdoors look like something out of a mystical book about magical forest critters. I managed to land a job working as a property manager for an apartment complex. I

Okay.

There's a similar ordinance for employment opportunities, which makes Seattle a very appealing place for those with a criminal background to restart their lives.

This is a great thing for those truly looking to start over, but don't get me wrong, however, it attracts a lot of bad people. Maybe this is why Washington is one of the top states with the most serial killers? Interesting, I didn't know that. As a property manager, I was given an amazing discount to live on site. The building constantly had multiple emergencies which would benefit from someone living on site such as breakers flipping at all times throughout the night and we've had a history of pipes bursting and flooding multiple floors.

One night, I was going through my evening routine of cooking my HelloFresh, code husband, and watching my shows. My dog sat by the exterior facing the back door to my apartment, alerting me that he wanted to go out. I lived on the first floor and the apartment had two entry points, one from the back, which led to the street and run from the interior, which entered the hallway within the complex.

I took him out and saw one of my residents smoking a cigarette. I ignored him knowing his reputation and walked to the potty patch while my dog did his business. This area was much like a dark alley with not a lot of lighting and not a lot of human traffic coming through. While my dog did his business, he came over to me and started talking to me about the end of the world, how it's near and that God was directly speaking with him. Are you following along? She's just outside taking a nap. And it's another tenant who may not have the best background has come up and is trying to talk to her.

God had told him that I was supposed to help him repopulate the earth and we would start a new beginning. That's what he said to her, correct? Yes. Okay. The conversation lasted for about an hour and every time I tried to excuse myself or walk away, he would get upset and block me. Dang, I should have used that with you. God told me that we need to repopulate the earth. I would have said. I guess my pickup line worked anyway, so it doesn't matter. This is actually really scary. Like he's cornering her in telling her basically we need to sleep together and he's not letting her leave.

Where is she? I'm confused. Outside her house. But she can't, she's in an apartment and she can't get back in. She said, thankfully, one of my other residents was walking home and she saw what was going on. She went up and told her boyfriend who came down and distracted him and allowed me to make my escape. I thanked him and his girlfriend the next day. I immediately told my boss about what happened. And while she didn't disregard it, she did not offer any mediation. She spoke with the company's lawyer who advised her that we could work on filing a behavioral eviction, but they are harder to prove. She said,

After the first interaction with this man, things would change. He would come by the office and stare at my desk from the outside window, much like someone possessed in one of those paranormal movies. He would knock on my door in the middle of the night. I could still see the outline of his shadow peering in through the curtains on my glass patio door. We caught him on the security camera looking at my car in the garage, filming it. He

He would stand by the corner of the garage exits on my days off. Sometimes he would be there all day, sometimes just a few hours. So couldn't you prove that, though? I mean, how long is he really going to go to jail for that, right? That's so hard. Not. You just get a restraining order. Being a stalker or...

it's so hard to get gel time. I don't even know if they can. I'm sure they can, but like you said, usually it's a restraining order, but usually it's horrible. And this is just awful. He's making her so uncomfortable in the one place she should feel comfortable. Oh, he's making her life miserable. Right. One day he was standing in the corner of the intersection right in front of our complex and his purple underwear and matching suitcase staring at me while I was making my way home with my friend from walking the dog. This,

This all happened within the first few weeks of that initial interaction. I asked my best friend who also lived in the apartment on a higher level if my dog and I could stay at her place until his eviction went through. We deactivated his key fob since he did not require access to the set of apartment homes she lived in. It was maybe two or three nights after this happened that he managed to make his way up the elevator. Someone decided to be nice and just let him go up to the top floor thinking he lived there.

He attempted to kick down her door in flip-flops, but luckily got the wrong apartment number. My friend lived in a corner apartment, and he kicked in the door on the opposite-facing corner apartment just a few doors down. He managed to cause some major damage to the door and the frame, but the door managed to stay shut.

All these interactions were getting documented as much as possible through the security cameras. This went on and on for another month or so with all his attempts to get close to me being failed by my need to constantly be accompanied by a member of our maintenance team. Which sucks. She's constantly just living in fear. Yeah, like she has to have a bodyguard at all times. Yeah, that's horrible. At this point, you might be wondering why I didn't call the police.

But I did a few times. However, the police in King Country will not go out for threats or stalking. They will go out if someone is actively brandishing a weapon. And all I had proof of was him stalking me, which led to being assigned a detective and having a case. I was couch surfing for a month and a half between the homes of my friends, not being able to stay in my own home for fear of my life.

I relayed this to my detective and she stated she could put me up in the woman's home for victims of domestic abuse. That's when it hit me that there was no solution to this. That's crazy. I pulled every cent of my savings I had to my name. My 401k sold my furniture and was granted a court ordered sealed name change for my protection. I moved out of state where I would end up staying on another friend's couch until I got back on my feet.

My experiences in Seattle don't reflect the experiences of everyone, but the world was really telling me very loudly that that city was not for me. Oh my gosh, that's nuts. Yeah, thank you so much for your show. I listen to every episode as soon as it comes out, and I keep up with Rise and Crime and Binged. I even got my boyfriend listening to your show during a road trip. He's more of a Garrett where he doesn't know a lot of these crimes, but is now becoming enlightened. Love you guys so much. Stay safe out there. It reminds me a lot of, I mean, because celebrities, right? Celebrities have stalkers, and it's...

I mean, they have to have security 24-7 because there's literally people who, and they can't run away. Like, Justin Bieber can't run away. Or change his name. Like, having a stalker has to be one of the worst things ever. I don't think changing your name is as light as we're saying it.

I'm Peyton. Imagine if because of one dude's actions, I had to spend all of my savings and legally go not become Peyton. That is a really big deal and mentally tough. Bank accounts and credit cards. Yeah, like that is not just as easy as, oh, I'm just going to go change my name and there's no consequences to that. Yeah, it's crazy. It's also scary because I wonder if she, I'm sure she thinks, but what if he finds me? What if she finds my name? Yeah.

She's still living in fear. Like it's still her. Like it's like she can't change her outward appearance. All right. The next one is called the Lemonade Stand Creep.

This one says,

So when I was in grade school, my best friend and I lived about a block away from each other. Our neighborhood was safe. This was the 90s. So our parents let us just have freedom and running back and forth to each other's houses and around the neighborhood together on our bikes, riding up to the local candy shop or coffee shop or whatever. Yeah.

One winter evening, after a play date at my house, my friend had to go back home for dinner, so I walked her. Again, she lived just a block away, and this meant an extra 10 minutes of time together, giggling and hanging out. We couldn't get enough time together. Truly, we were like sisters, and still are to this day, 25 years later.

So we were about eight or nine years old at this time. And as we are walking, totally distracted by some silly conversation we were having, I noticed a green Sebring convertible drive right past us, then stop back up to get closer to us and then just drive off. It gave me a weird feeling, but I brushed it off because I was a kid and young and naive.

I got my friend to her house, hugged her goodbye, and then turned around and started walking back home alone. When I got about a half a block from her house, where I had to cross the street to get back to my block, the car pulled up in front of me, blocking me from crossing. He rolled down his window, and it was a man, probably in his late 30s or early 40s, with dark hair and a smirk on his face. He said, hey little girl, do you want some candy? I have some in here for you. No way, the classic, do you want some candy? Yeah. All right.

My stomach dropped to the floor. What a typical line to use, right? Seriously. It ignited the ultimate stranger danger in my young brain, but I felt frozen in fear. I politely said, no, thank you. And then he quickly rolled up his window and sped off.

I took off and started running to my house. As I said, it was a winter night. I lived in Ohio, so it was very icy and snowy and slippery. I fell and scraped my knees, got up and kept running towards my house. And at this point I was crying pretty hard. My dad was outside in our backyard chopping wood for our fire that night and he saw me running towards him crying and he immediately started yelling, what's wrong? What happened? I told him and he took running off down the street with a chopping axe in

his hand looking for the guy. She said, girl, dad instinct activated. He came back home after a few minutes when he didn't see the guy and we called the police. They came over and we filed a report. There were a lot of young kids that lived in the neighborhood and ran around playing all the time without adult supervision. And there was clearly a predator on the prowl.

We were all pretty shaken up, and for the next few months, anytime I was in the neighborhood, I was always looking over my shoulder for that convertible. But after a few months, I think I tried to forget about it and not be scared. Things went back to normal. Until that summer. Okay. My friends and I were holding a lemonade stand, once again, about a block from my house, but in the other direction. We were right on the edge of the lawn, right in front of my friend's house. No adults were out with us, but we were in her yard. Okay.

We were having fun and laughing and just being sweet little girls when all of a sudden the green Sabrine pulls up. My blood went cold. He got out of his car, walks up, looks right in my eyes and says, I'll take a lemonade. I couldn't even move. I was frozen in fear. My friend, having no idea who he was, just poured him the lemonade and said, that'll be 50 cents.

He gave us $5 and then walked back to his car and drove away. That was the last time I saw him. I'm grateful that this story doesn't have a more tragic ending. This guy clearly had horrible and disgusting intentions, and we hear way too many of these things not ending this way. Thanks for reading and grateful to be here to tell this story. I love you guys. Emily. I'm surprised all he did was ask for a lemonade. I think he's just being creepy. It's weird, but I'm surprised he didn't go...

I got some lemonade in my car. You want some? You want some in my green convertible? Yeah. Do you want some candy? I wonder if people still say that, like predators. Probably. I wonder if it's like the number one thing that parents teach their children now is if anyone asks for candy, don't say yes. What would you have gone to a car for?

I don't think anything. Like a gecko? I don't think anything. Yeah, if you were little and someone said, hey. Okay, let me think. Yeah, it'd probably be like they pulled out like a snake or something, you know, where I'm like, oh, whoa, what's that? Let me go look at it. Yeah. So I guess you got to get a little creative. A sour gummy worm? No, no way. Depends. Depends how many. I don't think I would have because my mom was so big on Strangey Dancy. Like, yeah.

I knew about Strangey Dangery when I was two, I swear. I knew to never go up to anyone or anything. That's so scary. So scary.

This one says, Dear Daisy, just like we've seen with other cases, no one ever really knows when their life is going to be completely changed. And for me, that day came early in life. The day was February 9th, 2006. There's nothing better about it, Dear Daisy, when someone writes in with just a good intro, middle, cliffhanger, ending. Like, I just love when someone puts a good story together. That's so funny.

That cold and foggy morning, my mom was taking me to school. I was seven years old in the second grade at the time. My mom had just strapped my two-year-old brother into his car seat in the back as I sat in the front passenger seat. I had no idea what was coming as my mom slid into the driver's seat and reached to shut the car door. Before she could close it all the way, there was a man jamming his body in between the space of the open door.

I didn't know what to think at the time. I had never known fear or faced evil. Oh, that's so devastating as a child to like just have it shattered that quickly. Like your innocence. Yeah, I know. I don't know. I don't even know if my brain would have computed that. Right. Yeah. Right.

The man loomed over us and crouched down to yell at my mom, demanding money. My mom could hardly understand him. She didn't speak English, but she tried to tell him she didn't have any. The man then demanded the car and started shouting for my mom to get out. I could hear my little brother crying in the back as my mom refused to leave us in the car with him. That's when I saw the shotgun in his hand. Oh, my God. I couldn't scream as I watched the man take his gun and strike my mom across the face with it.

That's when my mom started screaming, telling me to run as he struck her over and over and over again. I ripped open the car door and ran straight for the door to our apartment only a few feet away from the driveway. I'll never forget the feeling of dread as I tried the door and realized it was locked.

That's like a bad dream. Yeah.

My neighbor didn't speak English either. She handed me the phone and I began to speak to the operator as I looked over the balcony and down onto our yard and street below. The man looked up at me from the sidewalk and I watched as he walked away. Walked. He didn't even have to run. I tried to stay calm as I explained to the operator that he had left in which direction. East on CINO, I would later hear an officer say.

Oh, man.

She and my brother were both still crying, but I couldn't feel anything. Looking back, I think I was in shock. The neighborhood was eerily quiet as I sat and waited. No one came outside or even dared look through the window. I called every family member I could think of to come over and help, but either no one answered or I got their voicemail. I remember feeling hopeless and alone that no one had heard my family's cries for help and that no one had come to help except for the upstairs neighbor. That is so like talk about lasting effects. Did the cops ever come?

Yeah.

I pointed at the officer whose figure towered over mine the most. At my three foot six, he was well over six feet tall. He had a black beanie, a camouflage jacket, black pants, a mustache, black or brown shoes, one of those. What about the gun, they asked. I tried to describe the style and told them it had a camel print. From my description, they said it was a shotgun.

Yeah.

Yeah.

I don't remember what happened after that, but I recall spending the entire day at the school crying and being left alone. Even when school was over, I sat by myself on the curb waiting for my mom to pick me up, but obviously she never showed. Eventually, another one of my aunts would come to the school and pick me up. At that point, I was the last kid left. Once I was dropped off at home, I finally saw my mom. She was laid out on the couch with my dad by her side. Her face was stitched in multiple places all along her left cheek.

Looking at her and my dad, I could feel the fear and dread thick in the room. It was a feeling that would stick with me for years after. Now at 24 years old, I can look back at the police report without those feelings of fear and dread. But at 14, I broke down after finding out the man had never been caught because my parents had told me at 8 that he had been so I wouldn't be so afraid. Which...

It's hard. It's kind of smart, actually. Well, yeah, because she was afraid of living in the same home. Yeah. Then at 18, I held hope the fingerprint they pulled off the car would one day lead to an arrest. I was a hopeful college freshman worried for the family I'd left behind in the same place. Now at 24, I can see the pictures of the car, of the blood, of my mom's injuries, and not completely break down. I can think back on that day and not resent everything that failed me, from my neighbors to my relatives to the staff at school, which...

Completely valid feelings. Like it at such a young age to feel like no one heard you. No one was listening. That's really, really hard. Now at 24, I accept that cases just go cold. And if the stars align someday, I can see justice, but it's best not to dwell on it. And I can appreciate life and consider myself lucky after I survived on Cino Avenue. Thank you, Peyton and Garrett for all the work you put into the podcast.

Your storytelling and empathy is captivating, and listening to these stories helps me cope with what happened to me. I didn't know if I should send in my story, but you guys are always so respectful and genuine when telling other stories that I convinced myself to do so. If anyone should get to tell my story, I think it should be you, Peyton. Much love to you both and to Daisy. Sincerely, Carla. Dang. I just suck that this stuff has to happen, and I hope it doesn't happen. I mean, I know it happens to other people, but it's just...

I don't want it to happen to anyone else. I was getting teared up because, gosh, the stories that we tell on our podcast are so intense, right? Like they're murders. They're awful, awful things. The worst of the worst. But even something like a carjacking gone wrong can affect someone until they're 24 years old. Like that can stick with you. That can affect the way you see the world. It can alter you. It just makes you realize that like,

trauma is so real and that these things are just so hard also the fact that this stuff happens every day every day this type of stuff is happening yeah and it's uh it's it's weird to think of it's hard that other people hurt other people why like why are people hurting other people i just and that she still has no idea he's still not been caught no i am i'm sure that he's

continue to do it it's probably done it a bunch of times and yeah that was just one of a million and it's just crazy all right well that was all the dear daisy stories we have for this episode again we hope you are loving these if you have any stories literally anything eerie creepy anything like that please write them in we are going to continue doing this because i think you guys love them as well and we'll see you with another regular episode next time i love it and i hate it goodbye