#373 No One Will Believe You

*Content Warning: Please be advised that this text contains: depictions and discussions of ritualistic violence and decapitation, themes of alcoholism, depictions of homelessness and poverty, and occult imagery.*

We like to believe we’re always smart. That our brains are naturally driven to take the best route. A curious individual might wonder, what constitutes as best? You might be surprised to learn it has very little to do with truth or justice. Let alone does it always align with reality. 

Turns out, our brains are actually all about saving energy and finding ways to do less work. To avoid cognitive overload, our brains take these mental shortcuts that we call heuristics. These heuristics can appear as cognitive biases, logical fallacies, and cognitive distortions. In the moment, we tend to love heuristics! If unaware, they can feel like intuition or an inner knowing of an answer without having to think too hard about it. They can feel like quite the confidence boost! 

On the other hand, these heuristics also have very negative consequences for people and populations that might not be deserving of them. For example, let’s take the Just-World Fallacy which is a subconscious belief that the world is inherently fair and that people get exactly what they deserve. Acting as an emotional short cut, the Just-World Fallacy makes it a lot easier for us to strip other people of their systemic context (external environments, relationships, and societal structures) and reduce them to only their poor choices. 

You may be familiar with the Halo Effect, but have you heard of the Horn Effect? Working as a reverse Halo, one noticeable negative trait can cause the brain to assume everything else about that person is bad. Maybe when you were younger someone taught you to associate blue hair as a negative trait. Now as an adult walking through Walmart, you catch yourself making assumptions about blue haired people that read as facts. And it isn’t just about their outward appearance... The Horn Effect extends the badness to their inside as well.

Are you starting to see the problem now? Systemic and physical markers such as poverty, homelessness, and substance use disorder can very easily become direct triggers for these mental short cuts. Heuristics that we are all privy too, regardless of how smart we think we are. When we’re not aware of our shortcuts, people tend to get left behind. Our currently designed systems make these very people the perfect population to simply make disappear. Seriously think about it. Ordinary, regular people already do this every day. There are populations that we don’t want to see and they are one of the few populations that often people don’t seem to miss once they're gone. 

Thankfully, we’re not totally hopeless. If we’re willing to put in the work, we can learn and grow our personal awareness surrounding our own heuristics. By doing so, we not only become more present and introspective within our own lives but also grow our empathy to the lives of others. We can check ourselves and others using our natural curiosity and discernment. Next time you're in a conversation with someone and strong feelings come up; question yourself. Are they negative, positive, do you tend to listen more intently to those simply because they have letters stringing after their name (Hint: Argument from Authority)? Being truly smart actually entails being curious enough to question your own thinking short cuts. Remember to be mindful where you choose to invest your energy, you might just be taking a shortcut and missing what’s real, or what’s really important. 

JANE - OAKRIDGE, OHIO 1990

When Jane was younger she used to go outside for fun. She could spend all day out there no matter the temperature. Once upon a time there was joy here. Since living unhoused for the past thirteen months, she’s tried to remind herself of this – especially through the coldest ones. 

Jane recalls the icy sting of February as she crouches down in the newly burning June heat, stinging her right palm on the hot sunlight cement pavement outside Sin City Wine and Spirits. Hiding near the back of their side parking lot, she twists the cap of a handle of Shitty K’s. She shakingly pours a 16 ounce grey metal coffee mug to the brim, taking a long deep sip before replacing the lid. She takes another gulp of the vodka flavored goop then snaps on the top of the coffee mug. 

Despite it being 8:00 in the morning, she chugs half the mug. As she chugs, she thinks of her grandmother’s warnings. Alcoholism was a regular in Jane’s family. Her grandmother used to warn her that alcohol works as a truth serum. It only felt good going in because it had to pour out all the ugly. Jane remembered this and oddly enough, thought to herself, ‘Yet, no one ever seems to believe the alcoholic.’

The reality is that Jane’s mornings, afternoons, and days are mostly the same. Well, except for last night. Something strange happened last night that has deeply changed something within her. Well, everything except her need for a strong alcoholic beverage. Today’s choice of fuel was important for encouragement. Jane was willing herself… Drinking up just enough guts for what she had to do now. Slowly steadying herself while shaking off the dizziness, Jane stilled, took a deep breath, and then started towards the Oakridge Police Station, sipping her coffee mug on her way. 

LIEUTENANT SMITH - OAKRIDGE, OHIO 1990

Every day of the week, Lieutenant David Smith takes the same route to the station. And every day of the week, he sees her there. On the corner near Sin’s liquor store. Just sitting there, sipping her beat up, dirty metal coffee cup holding anything but coffee. Lt. Smith imagines he could smell her from across the road. Like clockwork, each morning on his way to work, and then on his commute back, there she is. Polluting his city like the filth she is. You see, there are four things Lt. Smith can’t stand; people who don’t work, vagrants, drunks, and women. Unfortunately for Jane, she fit all of those things. 

This morning was no different. For a brief second he couldn’t see her as he made his regular turn onto East Sixth. Maybe she had finally kicked the bucket. Alas, no. There she was sneaking around the back like a little weasel. Out of the dozens of homeless currently living in Oakridge, this particular one seemed to irk him the most. Lt. Smith spent the remainder of his drive thinking of ways to improve public safety and reduce, better yet, deter vagrancy. He would clean up this town, and her, yet.

JANE- OAKRIDGE, OHIO 1990

Despite a rather high tolerance, Jane was intoxicated by the time she was sat in front of Lt. David Smith's desk. Though typically paranoid, it wasn’t a mystery why everyone kept glancing at Jane. She couldn’t remember the last time she showered, let alone spoke to another human being. When she tried to explain what she was doing there to the woman at the front desk, the woman had visibly grimaced and placed her hand in front of her nose. Jane was unsure if it was the vodka on her breath or the lack of showers. 

Either way, things weren’t looking good. She attempted to ease herself into the stiff plastic chair, draping her dirty fluffer jacket along the back to provide some extra cushion. After what felt like several hours, a somewhat large doughy man sat down behind the desk and a name plate which read ‘Lieutenant Smith.’ He did not greet her or offer her his hand. Instead, he grabbed a bottle of scented Lysol and began spraying the entire desk area, not apologizing when he grazed over her causing her to go into a slight coughing fit. Now additionally disgusted, he sat back in his chair and wheeled a foot away. “What do you want to report? Make it quick as no one can focus in here while you’re stinking up the office.”

Jane swallowed back her shame. She was here for one thing, to tell the truth of what she’d seen and maybe help somebody. She started, “Last night I slept in the tunnels and I think I saw… something. I think a man might be hurt.” Lt. Smith sneered, “A Man might be hurt? In the tunnels? Do I seriously look like I care about that weird stuff you all do in those tunnels? You are either a crazy drunk or lying.” Surprised, Jane felt herself grow hot with anger. “I heard a man crying and screaming last night. It sounded like someone dragged him away. I couldn’t see him on account I can't see too good to begin with. My glasses were stolen.” 

“Time to go.” His patience was now exhausted. As Jane exited the station, she grabbed a paper statement form deciding if no one would listen to her, she would at least write it down. She probably wouldn’t have done this if he hadn’t been such a jerk to her before. He had already moved on to another conversation as Jane glanced back, feeling discarded. 

LIEUTENANT Smith - OAKRIDGE, OHIO 1990

Later that same afternoon, Lt. Smith was transferred a phone call in which the caller reported concern as their husband had been missing since the previous night. This wasn’t like him, she said. Unbeknownst to Lt. Smith, this phone call would change his career.

While looking for this missing person, Lt. Smith went undercover at his last known location at a local nightclub, to investigate. While there, a bartender told him he might as well stop looking for John. The bartender reported that John Doe had been beheaded during an occult ritual then sold as a relic to a buyer right here in this very club. His body had been dumped into the sewer lines for later disposal.  

Despite investigating these tunnels, Lt. Smith never did find anything nefarious while underground. Besides the weird symbols. Within a few weeks, the statement was discarded as hearsay. Though Lt. Smith thought of that bartender’s claim a few times since, he chalked it up to being insane. Occult rituals? Beheading… in Ohio? Yeah right. The bartender must have been on drugs. Then over the years, the thoughts were dismissed and forgotten. John Doe was never heard from again.

OAKRIDGE OHIO POLICE DEPARTMENT - OAKRIDGE, OHIO 2014

Twenty years later, the Oakridge Ohio Police Department finally got a “make-over.” While cleaning up and replacing old equipment, a newly hired officer fresh out of training happened to find what appeared to be an old piece of paper wedged between the drop box and the wall. Curious, the officer peeked at the information enclosed, seeing the date listed as July 20, 1990. This officer may be a newbie but he recognized the significance of the date and information within. Despite Lt. Smith retirement a few years back, the new officer figured he might be interested in seeing this.

RETIRED LIEUTENANT Smith - OAKRIDGE, OHIO 2014

Now in his late 60s, Lt. Smith required his bifocals in order to inspect the frail and folded piece of paper. Once his glasses were comfortably perched upon his nose, he peered down through the lenses, noting he was looking at an old civilian-written incident log from the summer of 1990. He recalled that the department had started the drop box towards the end of the 80s in order to reduce office foot traffic. Lt. Smith began to read;

OAKRIDGE POLICE DEPARTMENT — INCIDENT LOG

DATE: July 20, 1990 (10:18 AM)

OFFICER: Desk Lieutenant D. Smith

COMPLAINANT: Jane Doe (Transient) 

Maybe I’m wasting my time. Everyone thinks I’m crazy and I don’t know why you’d change your mind now. I’m only writing this so it's not on my conscience if someone’s actually dead down there. 

Last night July 19, 1990 I was sleeping down in the tunnels. Close to the storm drain near the club. Truthfully, I had drank a bit so my head was spinning and I honestly might’ve just been having a bad dream. Plus I can’t really see that good.

I swear though that I woke up to some man screaming. He sounded young, just crying and begging about needing to go home. Then it turned into this awful choking sound. Like when you don’t quite get the whole chicken’s head chopped off. I thought I saw a couple of dark shadows moving around and heard footsteps in the water, and some guy with a mean voice told him to stop crying. 

I didn't actually look. I pulled my blanket over my head and prayed. A couple minutes later, I heard what sounded like a heavy metal door slam shut. Then it stayed quiet.

Look, it could have just been the alcohol. I was pretty out of it and I can't see worth a damn, so I'm probably completely wrong. It was probably nothing. But if a body turns up down there tomorrow, don't say I didn't warn you. And I didn’t do it!

//////END OF REPORT//////

The pressure rising in his chest hit him like a physical blow. Oddly enough, the last face that crossed Lt. Smith's mind as his vision went dark and he suffered a massive heart attack was not a victim, or a suspect, or even a loved one. Of all people, places, and things to cross his mind, It was that woman. The one who used to loiter in front of Sin’s. The one who reeked of bottom-shelf liquor. The mere nuisance of her existence. And how she may have been telling the truth the entire time.

Truth serum.