MAN WITH MIC: Welcome to Episode Ninety-Seven. Today I meet the backwoods cannibal boogeymen of the American Southwest. The Garys. Think they'll ask me to stay for dinner? Let's find out... (fade out and back in ) No, what are you.... Ah... What are you doing? Get them off me!!
GRAHAM (V.O.): The same black Cadillac has been following me for weeks. License plate, 8DX-247. Blacked out windows. Blacked out lights and rims. I see it everywhere. At home. At the studio. At the grocery store. It even followed me on my trip to Taos. Presumably its more MUFON Investigators coming to get the exclusive leak from me. Maybe even the same ones who stalked Amy. It remains in my shadow everywhere I go. Haunting my mundane daily movements. I know what some of you might be thinking… This could be nothing. A mixup. A miscommunication. And its not journalistically ethical for me to broadcast the license plate number in this way. And just know that you’re absolutely right in thinking that. I probably shouldn’t be doing it this. But fuck them. Whoever they are. 8DX-247. This is The Subjective Truth. Stay with us.
JESS BRUBAKER (voicemail): Hello, this message is for a Graham Anderson. My name is Jessica Brubaker. I... uh... I guess I’m calling to say thank you for finding my brother Phillip.
GRAHAM (V.O.): Jessica Brubaker and her family had been searching for her brother Phillip for over six years.
JESS BRUBAKER (on phone): Phillip went missing in April of 2015, but I hadn’t talked to him for a few months before then. It’s not that we didn’t get along, its just... you have to understand, my brother was an addict. We, as a family, cut him off at the end of 2014. We held an intervention during the holidays and when it didn’t work out we were forced to back up our end of the ultimatum. It was really tough on me and my older sisters. It’s funny because when my parents were considering adoption they were worried we’d shun him or exclude him from our little sibling circle. But in reality, we were all so protective of Phillip. And if I’m being honest, I felt a little more pride when he would succeed at something. More than I felt it with my sisters. And... (pause) it would hurt more when he failed.
GRAHAM (on phone): Phillip was adopted?
JESS BRUBAKER (on phone): What? You can’t see the family resemblance? (laughs) Yeah, my dad had already raised three girls and wanted to be sure he got his boy.
GRAHAM (on phone): How old was Phillip when your parents adopted him?
JESS BRUBAKER (on phone): Real young. Two or three maybe at the oldest. My sisters and I, were at least six years older than him. I was the closest to him in age, but it was my oldest sister Colleen who he really clicked with. They were ten years apart in age, but two peas in a pod. That’s really where Phillip got his love for the outdoors. He and Colleen would always pitch tents in the backyard. Tell ghost stories. He loved that kind of stuff. And then when Phillip was in High School, Colleen took him camping all over. Big Bend. Caprock Canyon. Lots of places.
GRAHAM (on phone): Do you have any idea what Phillip could have been planning to do during his trip to the Rocky Mountains?
JESS BRUBAKER (on phone): Not really, no, like I said, we weren’t supposed to be contacting him at the time. My other sister, Meredith, told me she talked to him in March of 2015, a few weeks before he went missing. She said they met at a Starbucks and Phillip looked completely fried. He told her he’d found cameras hidden all over his apartment. That they were on to him. They were watching him at night. She said he brought some of his ‘research’ with him because he was scared it would be destroyed or stolen if he left it at home. Apparently, it was just some purple folder containing a bunch of loose pages he had printed off a bunch of blogs. But he was adamant that he was onto something big. He was obsessed. He showed her some hand drawn map to a treasure out in Northern New Mexico. He was a always a little off, but this was different...
GRAHAM (on phone): his might seem like the most unimportant thing to ask about, but was it a map to the Fenn Treasure?
JESS BRUBAKER (on phone): That sounds right, but I’ll be honest, it’s been awhile and I’m not exactly sure. If Meredith were here now, she would definitely know. She’s into all that stuff. Hidden treasures, mysteries, the occult, you know, weird stuff. That’s probably why Phillip felt he could reach out to her about whatever he thought he had discovered out in New Mexico.
GRAHAM (on phone): Did your sister report his behavior to anyone? Sounds like he might have been a danger to himself.
JESS BRUBAKER (on phone): No. He asked her not to tell anyone where he was at or where he was going. Said he was in danger already and if she did anything it would only make things worse. Why she thought it would be a good idea to bargain with someone in that state, I don’t know? But she regrets it now. I’ve heard her say as much dozens of times. And I completely understand. I don’t blame her. For a long time I was the one apologizing. Colleen gave Phillip his love for the outdoors. Meredith gave him his love for mysteries. And do you know what I gave my little brother?
GRAHAM (on phone): What?
JESS BRUBAKER (on phone): His first hit. My sisters both wanted me to tell you thank you, by the way. And I’ll go ahead and extend the hand of gratitude for my late mother and father. Despite his issues, despite all of our issues, we loved Phillip and we missed him. His disappearance caused a schism in our family that has been impossible to heal. But now, with you bringing us this closure. Allowing us all to move on. It means more than you could ever know.
GRAHAM (on phone): You’re welcome. I’m glad I could help. Seriously.
GRAHAM: (V.O.) After speaking with Jessica Brubaker, I immediately reached out to Amy. I wanted to see if she recognized Phillip. If there was really a chance that he was the man they had met in the woods, the one who had been calling himself Doug Funnie.
AMY (on phone): Holy fucking shit. Yeah. That’s the guy. That’s Doug. This has to be him.
GRAHAM (on phone): Amy. Amy... he’s dead. Phillip Brubaker or Doug Funnie, whoever he his… that’s the guy the sniffer dog team found while I was in New Mexico.
AMY (on phone): Hold on. (to herself) Yeah this. This has to be him. What? That doesn’t make any sense. (to Graham) It says here that Brubaker went missing in the Spring of 2015. So...
GRAHAM (on phone): So, what?
AMY (on phone): Buddha and I met that guy in the same area almost five years after he supposedly went missing. You know what that means right?
GRAHAM( on phone): (worried) I can tell by the excitement in your voice—
AMY (on phone): He could still be out there.
GRAHAM (on phone): Amy, it’s been over a year. I think its best if we look at things from a realistic perspective.
AMY (on phone): Nothing that has happened to me over the past year has been from a realistic perspective. Look I’m done telling stories and memorializing my husband. He isn’t dead. (pause) And you should have taken me to New Mexico with you.
GRAHAM (on phone): I didn’t think it would be appropriate. I was worried about you.
AMY (on phone): I don’t need you to worry about me, Graham. I’ve never needed anyone to worry about me. Ever since I left New Mexico I’ve had this nagging feeling that I made a mistake. I’m going back.
[PHONE HANG UP]
GRAHAM (V.O.): And then there were none. I tried calling Amy back, but my calls were almost immediately forwarded to her voicemail. I wasn’t sure of my next move, but like they always do, dots started popping up in front of me. Forming a pattern I couldn’t ignore. The following call came in on my personal cell phone number. Not the tip-line. And the not the number for the Good Pointe office. And not a number many people know.
REBECCA: (voicemail) Graham Anderson, come to the Arts Rib House off Highway 290 in Manor at 4pm this Saturday. Sit in the corner booth by the big window. And you know what, order the Wagu-Burger. It really is delicious. Bye-Bye now.
GRAHAM (V.O.): What does that sound like to you? A setup? A valid lead? A waste of time? This is the question I have to ask myself with every bit of information that comes in. Its taken me too long to realize this, but I can see now that it does matter who is conducting the investigation. And having some wit, a microphone and an ego isn’t enough. Against all of my better judgement I went to the Arts Rib House on Highway 290 in Manor.
[PARKING - CAR DOOR OPEN / CLOSE - GET OUT - STEPS ON GRAVEL - DOOR DING]
GRAHAM (V.O.): I sat in the corner booth by the big window. And I ordered the Wagu Burger.
[A ROBO-WAITRESS APPROACHES TABLE]
ROBO-WAITRESS: What can I get for you darlin’?
GRAHAM: I… uh... think I’ll have the Wagu-Burger.
ROBO-WAITRESS: That sounds delicious. I’ll get that right out to ya.
[ROBOT WAITRESS WHEELS AWAY]
GRAHAM (V.O.): I scanned the parking lot waiting to see the Black Cadillac I was sure would be pulling into the parking lot at any moment. Being acutely paranoid in a family friendly environment is quite the unique experience. I side-eyed joy filled parents and children as if they were all spies and actors.
REBECCA: Hey there, handsome.
GRAHAM: (surprised)I think you might have the wrong—
REBECCA: No, Graham, we came to speak with you. I’m Rebecca.
GRAHAM (V.O.): I looked up to see a woman standing at the edge of my table… holding a Reboot.
REBECCA: And this little guy. Well I actually think you two know each other a little bit already. I’ll let him introduce himself. When the waitress comes around again order me a large I Can’t Believe This Isn’t Really Chicken, Chicken Fried Chicken Sandwich, please. I’ll be right back. Gotta make a quick phone call.
[KNOB TURNING ON REBOOT]
GRAHAM (V.O.): She placed the Reboot box on the table across from me. Turned the knob. And then walked out of the Diner. For a few moments there was only the soft hum and pop of radio silence before a voice broke through. Or rather, I guess I should say, a yawn broke through.
DEREK: Ah. Excuse me. Didn’t mean to yawn in your face like that. That’s pretty rude.
GRAHAM: What is this all about?
DEREK: I can see that you’re shocked. I didn’t expect to be in this situation either, but here we are. And I think we are in a unique position to help each other out.
GRAHAM: I swear... if this is some kinda joke…
DEREK: No, this isn’t a joke. This is real. I’m real. This is all real. I think you’ll be interested in what I have to say. My name is Derek Schreiber. I was not lying when I told you I worked as a part of Project Screwdriver.
[FIST BANGING ON TABLE]
GRAHAM: Im not going to sit here and listen to some conspiracy chatbot tell me a god damn thing.
[GRAHAM ANGRILY EXITING DINER]
DEREK: Graham, wait...
[FOOTSTEPS - DOOR DING - GRAVEL FOOTSTEPS]
REBECCA (on phone - fading up as Graham gets closer): I’m pretty sure I’ll be home in time to cook dinner for you and the kids, but if not there’s that coupon for 20% off The Pizza Hotline.
GRAHAM: Hey! Hey! Lady!
REBECCA: (to phone) Hold on one sec, Honey. (to Graham)Hey, y’all done already?
GRAHAM: What the fuck is this all about? You think this is funny?
REBECCA: (to phone) I gotta go. I’ll call you back.
GRAHAM: Why? Why did you do this? Why did you bring him here? And make all those calls?
REBECCA: I didn’t do any of it. That was Derek. Im not a part of whatever he has going on. Im just helping out a friend. I heard about the Reboots and I ordered one thinking maybe I’d get to speak to my Grandmother again. Or maybe David Bowie. But I turned it on and next thing I knew there was some guy named Derek talking about screwdrivers and conspiracies and god knows what. He said he wa-—
GRAHAM: Is that your car?
REBECCA: What?
GRAHAM (V.O.): It was then, over Rebecca’s right shoulder, that I noticed a familiar Black Cadillac with blacked out windows and blacked out rims and a license plate that read, 8DX-247.
GRAHAM: The Cadillac, is that your car? Did you come here in that car?
REBECCA: No, I drive that Subaru over there...
GRAHAM: This ends today.
GRAHAM (V.O.): Full of piss, vinegar and adrenaline, I made my way across the gravel parking lot to the Cadillac.
[CRUNCHY GRAVEL FOOTSTEPS]
GRAHAM: Excuse me, can I help you?
[FIST AGAINST HOOD]
GRAHAM: You’ve been following me for over a month. Don’t you have something you’d like to say?
GRAHAM (V.O.): I was too distracted by my righteous indignation to notice the distinct smell of sulfur. I moved around to the driver’s side window and knocked. I could see movement inside, but it was still too dark to make out any features.
GRAHAM: Open up. Show me your stupid face.
[WINDOW ROLLS DOWN AND WE'RE HIT WITH A SONIC WALL OF SOUND. THERE ARE SWIRLS OF WHAT SOUNDS LIKE LAUGHING, FIGHTING, BABIES CRYING, AND SPORTSCATCHPHRASES.]
[GRAHAM PASSES OUT AND HITS THE GRAVEL]
GRAHAM (V.O.): It’s hard for me to describe what I saw... exactly. There were two men sitting in the car. Both wearing ill fitting black suits with black wide rim hats pulled down slightly to conceal their faces. I saw them. Both of them. They looked identical. Like two bad clones from the same bunch. Their faces were rigid, chalky white and deeply sunken in. The closest example I can think of, and I know how ridiculous this sounds, is the way Skeletor looked in the Masters of the Universe live action movie.
[THE SOUNDS OF SIRENS AND REGAINING CONSCIOUSNESS]
GRAHAM (V.O.): I woke up some time later with bits of gravel and rock dust on my face and clothes. Sirens blaring all around me.
ROBOT WAITRESS: Sir? Sir? Can you hear me?
[VIBRATIONS OF A CELLPHONE ON A COFFEE TABLE]
GRAHAM (V.O.): The next morning I received a series of calls. I ignored them, but on their fourth attempt I decided to check the ID. Illuminated it bright white light I saw the name Beth Kline.
DARCIE (on phone): Hello, Mr. Anderson. Sorry to bother you. My name’s Darcie Knapp, I’m Beth’s neighbor. I’m making some calls for her right now. She thought you should know that Jerry passed away last night.
GRAHAM (on phone): Oh my god. I'm so sorry. How is she?
DARCIE (on phone): She seems okay. A little bit in shock right now. It all happened so quickly...
GRAHAM (V.O.): Death doesn’t wait for storylines to be resolved. It doesn’t care what mission you had yet to complete. It doesn’t care how close you were to almost doing anything. Jerry was found sitting in recliner in his living room. His heart had stopped. Later tests would show that he had high levels of Fentanyl, Xanax and alcohol in his system at the time of his death. Two nights before he passed, I received the following series of voicemails.
[VOICEMAIL BEEP]
JERRY (voicemail): Hey Graham. Buddy. How’re ya doin? Hope you’re having fun up there. Looking down at all of us from your ivory tower. You’re no better than anyone. No one. What were you expecting to get from my son’s disappearance? You say its not about the money and then you say, oh I’m hiring sniffer dogs with my money. As far as I’m concerned every dime of that money is Buddha’s. And we’re not dumb. Sniffer dogs don’t cost that fucking much.
[VOICEMAIL BEEP]
JERRY (voicemail): Thought maybe you’d like to join me for a drink? Four months was a good run… something to be proud of, right? This whole sobriety thing is overrated. Let’s toast to many many more years of you exploiting my son’s name for a living. The Subjective Truth, Episode 114, today we interview Buddha’s Lunchlady and a Bigfoot Hunter. Deep down you hope we never find Buddha. Because finding Buddha means the mystery is over. Your show is done and poof, no more mattress ads. No more selling T- shirts with my son’s face on it. No more playing fake rockstar trashing hotel rooms in New Mexico. What are you going to do then? (beat) Tell me something, Graham, and be honest. When you saw the remains of that Brubaker kid... When you thought you might have actually found Buddha... Did you get excited? Did goosebumps form up on your arms thinking about what you’d done? And tell the truth, were you excited because you’d be bringing closure to a desperate family, or were you excited for how popular your podcast would be? How everyone would forget about how much of a piece of shit you are. No one has forgotten. Beth doesn’t realize who you are and she wouldn’t listen to me when I tried to tell her. But I know Graham. I know.
[VOICEMAIL BEEP]
JERRY (voicemail): No one ever talks about what it’s like when the man is the infertile one. People tend to assume it’s the woman. We’d be out somewhere and inevitably someone would notice we didn’t have kids and they’d ask, so when’s it gonna happen?… and Beth would tell them with her fake smile, oh we’re still having fun trying. It’ll happen when you least expect it, they’d always fucking say and we’d just smile right back… but we knew that’d be impossible. We would definitely be expecting it. We would have been planning it months in advance. Saving up every cent we could spare, browsing through donor profiles like hmm… this guy is a tall writer who also plays the piano, what about him? This guy was a semi-pro baseball player, what if our kid could be an athlete? All I could think, was… never once in my life did I hit a Homerun. If that kid grows up to be good at baseball I’ll know it was in spite of me. Not because of me. And all that… that’s the fun part. What comes next is the money. Want to have a doctor implant the specimen? No problem that’ll be two thousand dollars for a 33% chance of conception. Want to do it at home yourself to save a little bit of money? No problem, that’ll be one thousand dollars and now you’ve only got a 20% chance. And even then… even if it does take… you’re just praying it keeps growing and nothing else goes wrong. Because believe me, Graham. Things do go wrong. And then you’re back at square one, but you’re older… with less hair and more debt. Bitter and jaded. Becoming less and less like the Dad you always told yourself you’d be. This isn’t TV. Miracle babies don’t happen. People just give up, and then the rest of the world forgets about them after they’re gone.
[VOICEMAIL BEEP]
JERRY: I had this handled. I was going to find him. But you… you… I googled my son’s name today and you wouldn’t believe the stupid fucking bullshit that came up. He’s a joke now. And what am I going to do to fix this? I’ve never been able to do anything. I couldn't bring him into this world and then, I couldn’t even bring him home for a proper burial. (beat) You know what… Fuck you, Graham Anderson.
GRAHAM (V.O.): Despite my good intentions, I managed to destroy the lives of those who were kind enough to open up themselves up to me. I was up on stage spinning plates… trying so hard for so long to keep it all balanced… I didn’t realize until it was too late that I was already surrounded by broken plates. Jerry Kline, you were a straight shooter and wanted the best for your family. We had our differences, but I understood where you were coming from and I never blamed you for any of your harsh feelings toward me. When we were in your garage, you shared with me, a story about your son, and I believe, now, the very least I can do is give you a chance to share that story with the world. Its probably better than having your final words on this show be, Fuck You, Graham Anderson.
INT. GARAGE - FLASHBACK CLIP
GRAHAM: Do you have a favorite memory from Buddha’s childhood?
JERRY: Did you really just ask a grieving father for his favorite memory of his missing son’s childhood?
GRAHAM: Uh-huh.
JERRY: You really are some sorta tone deaf asshole aren’t you? (laughs)
GRAHAM: It’s a blessing and a curse.
JERRY: Well, as ridiculous as your question might be, I do have a favorite memory of my son. Buddha was still young enough to be that entertaining form of naive. He was running barefoot through the grass in our backyard and he stops to ask me why the trees aren’t squishy like the grass. I told him that trees were squishy and soft like pillows, but they would get hard when you tried to touch them. Some sort of evolutionary defense against curious children. From the kitchen window I watched Buddha sneak up on trees for the rest of the afternoon. I never told him I was joking. I used to wonder how long he believed it. How much time he must have spent sneaking up on trees and grabbing branches only to be disappointed that they felt like every other tree or branch he’d ever felt. He’d never be fast enough to feel a soft squishy tree.
GRAHAM (V.O.): It’s summertime, 1982. I’m 11 years old. My father is telling me all about the treasure hunt clues he heard on the radio that day. I could feel the excitement and joy radiating off of him. Like a sponge I absorbed as much as I could. I went to work right away plotting out our course and potential search areas. Rolling knotted up riddles around in my head until they started to unravel and make sense. It was in those moments of planning where I had the most fun. And it would stay fun until we had to actually search… and fail. My father, however, would refer to any failure we encountered as a necessary step on our predestined path to ultimate success. He believed the universe had a guiding hand and he encouraged me to feel for its nudges, pokes and slaps. When we were bogged down in a failed search, he’d tell me to close my eyes and think of the most impossible solve. The one that couldn’t possibly be true, but still felt true for some reason. Because it had to be somewhere. And it had to be someone. Why not us? (beat) It's July 1992, I’m a twenty-one year old college dropout, living in Seattle. I’m smoking a lot of pot during the day and doing improv comedy at night for free drinks. Telling myself this story about how I was living the life I wanted to live. But inside I was still struggling to figure out what ‘The Legacy of Graham Anderson’ was going to be. I wasn’t happy. And it was getting harder to hide it. So, like I said, it’s July 1992, and my Father flies out to visit me. We catch a Tom Petty concert at the Seattle Center Coliseum and afterward we’re both really buzzed and my Dad gets me talking about school and my plans. After a few frantic hand waving minutes of me venting my frustrations with society, he can tell that I don’t have a plan. He tells me he thinks I’ve been laughing a lot, but I’m not happy. And I quiet. Like internal death spiral quiet. And we just sit there for awhile. And then he asks me, what’s the most impossible solve? What do you want to do, but you know there’s not a chance in hell you’ll be able to do it? I sat there rolling the knot around in my mind. And then I replied, I want to be a Sportswriter. Or… I’ll get on Saturday Night Live. (laughs) I like to think that with SportsCentral I managed to split the difference. So, what would be the most impossible solve to our situation? What makes absolutely no sense, but feels right…? This is what I was asking myself as I stood in the Outlet Mall parking lot.
RETAIL REP: Hey there, how are you doing today? Can I help you find anything?
GRAHAM: Do you still carry the uh... Reboots?
RETAIL REP: Absolutely we do. I'll show you to where we keep them. You know I’ve had several customers tell me that it’s actually better to get two reboots instead of one. They'll need a friend to keep them company while you're away.
GRAHAM (V.O.): Back at home I placed the box on the counter and I just… stared at it for awhile. You’d never be able to guess its social impact on the human race by looking at its simplistic design. Just a soft gray and white marbled texture with the words Reboot written across the front in a chunky font.
[OPENING BOX - REMOVING PACKAGING]
GRAHAM (V.O.): Inside were two items, the Reboot Box and a thin gray instruction manual with the words ‘Read Me First’ written on the cover. (reading) Before activating your reboot its important for you to understand that you’re welcoming a soul back to our world. And the transition isn’t easy. Our team has carefully engineered a series of questions and statements specifically designed to help your reboot re-adjust to consciousness.
[PEEL OFF STICKER]
GRAHAM (V.O.): I peeled the plastic protectors off the Reboot, and placed my hand on the knob.
[REBOOT KNOB TURN]
GRAHAM (V.O.): In the moments of silence that followed my turning of the knob… I thought about Buddha and Jerry. I thought about my Father. And I thought about my late wife. Could I bring them back? Give them all another chance at life. I was giving the impossible a chance…
GRAHAM: (reading) Hello. Do not be alarmed. I mean you no harm. What is your name?
REBOOT'S VOICE: Hello? Who are you? Get away from me! NO! (Scream)
[TURN OF REBOOT KNOB]
GRAHAM (V.O.): I turned the machine back off, re-packaged it and put it in a forgettable corner of my garage…
It’s 1997 and Im a twenty-six year old rising star at SportsCentral. Im eating steak and winning awards for saying the most ridiculous shit on television. I am truly living my dream. And to top it off… my peers seem to love me. Every year we would have an End-of-Season awards show at these big holiday parties with all the anchors and crew. All kinds of people would show up. Celebrities and their entourages. Locals who managed to sneak in or tag along.
(conflicted) These parties they were… well they were a lot of fun. I always won ‘Best Punchline.’ Every. Single. Year. I was the funny lady surrounded by nerdy stat guys. It wasn’t hard to stand out. So I did. I stepped forward to center stage. And I owned every bit of it.(Beat)It’s at one of these holiday parties where, once again trying to be the funny girl, I made a comment about how the Philadelphia Eagles would never win a ring. Out of nowhere I have this fiery blonde jumping down my throat and throwing statistics in my face. We argued all night. We absolutely hated each other.
So, of course, we got married. Not that night, but not too long after. Either way it didn’t matter. From day one we knew. This is it. This is us. Day to day, whatever comes at us we’ll figure it out together. Forever.
Several years later, and not too long ago, we were driving home from one of those same holiday parties when I lost control of our rental vehicle… a black Cadillac. With blacked out windows. And blacked out rims. I had been drinking champagne all night. I shouldn’t have been driving. I know. Believe me. I know. But this was before self-driving cars or any of that stuff, and I’m not saying that as an excuse... it’s just something I think about a lot. Everything would be different if we could’ve just hit a button and ordered a ride.
She was asleep in the passenger seat, peacefully unaware of her fate. I tell myself she never woke up. That everything happened without fear. Without pain. From my perspective it was a yawn… a blur of motion and color… and then a jarring impact. I open my eyes. And I’m completely fine. My chest hurts and my left arm feels jammed… but I’m fine. I look to my right… and ask, ‘Are You Okay?' (pause) And then I see the red shattered circle in the windshield. And the tiny slivers of blonde hair hanging down from it. (beat)My pedestal and bank account managed to keep me out of prison, but my life as I knew it was over. I wallowed in grief and guilt… Spiraling myself into a deep depression that lasted two years… When I finally came to, I learned that I’d been blacklisted from the industry. Getting the job at SportsCentral was dumb-luck. Fate… if you will. I was just in the right place at the right time and I made the right person laugh.
During my more reclusive days, I developed a terrible habit of staring in the mirror. Picking out all the things I hated about myself. Selling forged maps of myself to my own brain. I came to know all the tell tale signs of a lost person. The emptiness and deflection. The act we put on everyday. I saw this same terrain laid out across the faces of Amy, Jerry and Beth. And it breaks my heart to think that I was selling them goose maps… I don’t expect them to ever forgive me.
Listen… I’m a piece of shit… I know. I’m not going to deny it. I should be locked up. I’ve done terrible things and even when I set out trying to do good, I continue to find ways to do terrible things to people who don’t deserve it. But I… I thought that if I could help this family heal… then maybe I’d be able to heal my own wounds.
We want to believe that before we die we’ll get the chance to prove to everyone that we weren’t dumb. That we weren’t the asshole or the bitch or the loser they thought we were. We want to believe we’ll get the chance to prove to everyone else how sorry we were for all the things we did. How we really really… really… would do better… if we just had more time. But the truth is that almost all of us will disappear before we’re ever given the chance. Right now… the story people know about you is the story they’ll always know. And being able to revise your story in someone else’s head… well that’s damn near impossible. Who you are… What you did… Its really etched in there. Fuck up once… like a real big fuck up… and people will never forget it. Folks wake up looking for reasons to hate. Reasons to raise their pitchforks. And I don’t blame them. Sometimes the Goatman needs to die.
[SIRENS, FIRE, HELICOPTERS ON NEWSCLIP]
NEWS ANCHOR ONE: This is the scene on the Northside early this morning as members of the Tulsa Fire Department are still working to extinguish a four-alarm fire at an unoccupied warehouse block. We don’t know the cause yet, as firefighters have not been able to get inside to investigate, but when we have more information we’ll bring it to you.
GRAHAM (V.O.): I just happened to be scrolling Twitter when the news broke... I spent several years of my life in Tulsa. I still keep in touch with friends who live there.
NEWS ANCHOR TWO: Really we just don't have any solid information to go on right now. At this time it's all pure speculation.
GRAHAM (V.O.): A tower of smoke could be see from all over Tulsa and pictures of it were all over my feed. Then the news clips were shared along with videos of the fire... I was drawn in to the story, but at the time I didn’t realize what I was actually seeing...
NEWS ANCHOR ONE: They’re bringing out another one now... That’s at least twelve by my count. Its unofficial, but my sources say they’re preparing for the death toll to rise as high as thirty...
[VIBRATION OF A CELLPHONE]
BETH: (on phone)(crying) Graham, it’s Buddha. He’s one of them.
GRAHAM: (on phone)What do you mean? Is everything okay?
BETH: (on phone) The people on the news. The ones who.... They think Buddha is one of them. He’s in ICU at St. Vincent. They couldn’t get ahold of Amy so they called and asked me to come in and confirm his identity.
NEWS ANCHOR THREE: ...individuals committed self-immolation.
NEWS ANCHOR TWO: ... And committed an act of self immolation. Willingly setting themselves on fire.
BETH: (phone)They said they aren’t sure if he’s going to make it through the night. I don’t...
GRAHAM: (on phone)(very panicked) Oh my god. If there’s anything I can do to help you, please don’t hesitate to ask.
BETH: (on phone)I need to tell you something. I’m sorry, Graham. I’m so so sorry. I'm a liar. I'm a liar.
GRAHAM: (on phone)(very panicked) Beth, whatever it is...
BETH: (on phone)The story I told you. The one about the pieces of metal being found in Buddha’s shoulder. I made it up. I made it all up. I thought I’d never see Buddha again and I couldn’t stand the thought of him disappearing from the world. Everyone just forgetting all about him. When you came along and people started talking about Buddha again and talking about the UFOs and aliens… I don’t know. I just thought that this is what Buddha would have wanted. He would have wanted to have his name tied up in all this UFO and alien lore. He’d be able to live on forever that way. I’m sorry, Graham. I need to go.
NEWS ANCHOR ONE: ...the address comes back to a company called, Third Eye Industries. Owned and operated by The DeLuca Group. We’re being told that the helicopters we saw earlier were transporting four individuals to the St. Vincent medical center. I’m not going to speculate on what could have been happening inside the warehouse to cause the fire, or what role the individuals inside played in its creation... but I’m sure there’s much to be revealed in the coming days....
GRAHAM (V.O.): Over the next few days details began to leak out into the public domain. And by leak I mean dozens of messages were posted from Sophia DeLuca’s official account... including the following videos...
SAM: My name is Sam White and I am not of this dimension. I willingly walk back in to the fire. Back into clay.
ROBERT: My name is Robert Belcher and I am not of this dimension. I willingly walk back into the fire. Back into clay.
ERIN: My name is Erin Parker and I am not of this dimension. I willingly walk back into the fire. Back into clay.
BUDDHA: My name is Buddha Kline and I am not of this dimension. I willingly walk back into the fire. Back into clay. (Beat) (still in Buddha's Voice)My name is Edward Kelley and I am not of this dimension. I willingly walk back into the fire. Back into clay.
NEWS ANCHOR ONE: The video is violent and it is graphic. And for that reason we will not be airing it now. But if you'd like to see exactly what happened the video is available to stream from our website.
GRAHAM (V.O.): We will back soon with more of The Subjective Truth. Until then, stay safe and don’t become a story.
NEWS ANCHOR THREE: And now we turn our attention to Sophia DeLuca. Some of you might remember DeLuca as the wunderkind half-sister of Maurice Woodson. Co-founder of Dubble Entertainment. Dubble wisely pivoted away from music and into to the video game industry during the 64 bit era of the 1990s. The company found almost immediate success behind their runaway smash hit, Modern Prometheus. Though much has been said about who deserves the credit for Dubble's early success, DeLuca was the principal developer behind “Modern Prometheus” and the company’s less profitable, but still critically acclaimed follow up, “They’re Coming For Us.” According to Robin Fowler’s recently published memoir, “Dubble Trouble,” DeLuca’s departure from the company in 2001 was less than amicable. Fowler relates a story in which, following a heated boardroom dispute DeLuca started a small fire in her office. Fowler doesn’t go into detail, but they do infer that this was not an isolated incident. After DeLuca’s exit, Dubble quickly began losing ground to their competition. By 2005 they phased themselves out of the Video Game Industry entirely and pivoted again. This time to... smartphone app development and ultimately, of course, Augmented Reality. A few billion dollars later, it's safe to assume that Dubble found their footing. DeLuca, however, has had a much hazier path following her split with Dubble. She completely removed herself from public view for over a decade before re-emerging in 2015 as a pseudo-spiritual guru with a new age message, a youtube channel and an ever growing number of devoted followers... What connection any of this has to the warehouse fire in Tulsa remains to be seen... But it’s been four days. Thirty-two people are dead. And Sophia DeLuca is nowhere to be found.
VIDEO GAME AD COPY: Search for clues. Solve puzzles. Battle ancient monsters. Experience the third dimension of gaming. To get your fix of 64-bit action at home play Modern Prometheus. Coming this Summer from Dubble. Kill the Goatman. Find you Treasure. And remember if you're not seeing Dubble. You're not seeing it.
