Witnesses of: Black Eyed Kids, Phone Calls from the Dead, The Cursed Heart

This episode of the Y Files is brought. to you by Factor. Gather around because this happened. September 12th, 2008, the 4:22 p.m. Metro Link left Union Station packed. with commuters. Charles Peek stood in the aisle of the. front car. He was 49 years old. He. texted his fianceé, Andrea, I'm almost. there. That was the last message he ever. sent.

Minutes later, the commuter train. slammed head-on into a Union Pacific. freight train. Both traveling over 40. mph. [music] Combined impact speed 82. mph. Charles Peek died instantly. 12 hours later, his family sat in a. living room watching news footage of the. wreckage. Then Andrea's phone lit up on. the table. The caller ID said Charles.

breaking the rules. Put a sock on it, boy. >> Let me guess. >> Nah, I'm not coming in. >> Of course you're not. The one day I need. you to help me record, you're not coming. in. >> I don't feel good, human. My tummy hurts. and I'm so bloated I keep surfacing in. my bowl. My buoyancy is over cocka. I. told you not to eat the gas station egg. salad. >> The egg salad was fine. It's this. ancient Egyptian diet. I'm going to get.

rockhot abs like the guys who built the. pyramids. >> I thought the Anunnaki built the. pyramids. >> Ah, they were management. The enslaved. humans did the actual work. Dragging. rocks around a desert while giant aliens. are screaming at you in Samrian. That. kind of pressure gets you pretty. shredded. >> Shredded? You said you're bloated. >> That's my body adjusting to ancient. greens. It's activating my dormant. pyramid building DNA. >> There's no such thing as pyramid. building DNA.

>> No, contr. on his diet and ancient knowledge is. flowing through my gills. Uh, yesterday. I had the sudden urge to align something. to Orion's belt. >> You rearranged the couch cushions. >> to Orion's belt. It's called precision, human. Maybe educate yourself before you. mock the ancients. >> What do you even eat on an ancient. Egyptian diet? Yeah, warm beer and bread. that tastes like disappointment. Uh, but. on cheat days, I can have a lentil. >> You're not going to get abs that way.

>> Oh, I'm sorry, mister. I've never built. a monument that's lasted 15,000 years. Oh, please enlighten me with your modern. fitness wisdom. >> Just use Factor. They have no plans to. suit any lifestyle. >> Hold on. Did you just use alien. technology to levitate us into today's. sponsor? >> I sure did. Factor is a subscription. meal service that delivers pre-prepared. meals right to your door. They're fresh, never frozen, and ready to heat and eat. in 2 minutes. Factor offers over 100. rotating weekly options. From meals and.

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for a year. >> You got it. >> Yeah. So I don't need to eat like I'm. building a pyramid for alien overlords. >> Nope. You can have real food. >> Perfect. Uh hey, wait. Do you think the. Anunnaki allow meal delivery? Uh because. Gertie just reminded me we're building. that guest pyramid in the backyard. Wait, you're building what in my. backyard? >> I got to go. Uh, my ancient grains are. calling. And by calling, I mean I need. to find a bathroom immediately. Yeah. Now, too late, human.

We have a code. Brown. We think of telephones as everyday. things, plastic and glass, good for. ordering pizza or doom scrolling through. social media. But since their invention, people suspected they could serve. another purpose. Nicola Tesla built a.

radio to reach the spirit world. Thomas. Edison believed he could do the same. He. called it a spirit phone, a device to. bridge this world and the next. In 1920, Edison told Scientific American he'd. been working on an apparatus to see if. it is possible for personalities which. have left this earth to communicate with. us. He died in 1931 without completing. it, or so his assistants claimed. But. these calls do happen. In 1979, scientists published the first.

comprehensive study of phone calls from. the dead. They documented over 100. cases. 72% occurred within 24 hours of. death. 89% featured heavy static or poor. connection quality. 94% described voices. as distant, mechanical, or hollow. Average call duration 6 to 15 seconds. The pattern was clear. The calls were. real. But were they messages from beyond. or something else? Sometimes the dead call to say goodbye.

Sometimes they call with a warning. Dean. Coun is famous for writing horror. novels, but his most terrifying story is. when he lived. Kun was in his home on a. Tuesday afternoon in 1988, working alone. in a quiet house. The phone rang, an. unlisted number. He picked it up and. heard that heavy rhythmic static. crackling through the receiver. Then a. woman's voice cut through the noise. It. was faint but distinct. It sounded. exactly like his mother. But his mother. had been dead for over a decade. Coons.

didn't speak. He couldn't. The voice. didn't say hello. It didn't ask how he. was doing. It said only one thing. repeated in a flat tone. Be careful, Dean. Be careful. It didn't sound like a. recording. It sounded like a. transmission from somewhere else. Then. the line went dead. 2 days later, Akun. visited his father at a mental care. facility. His father suffered from. dementia. Coun walked into the room and. his father looked at him, reached into a. drawer, and pulled out a knife. The.

blade was 8 in long and a razor sharp. His father lunged and tried to stab him. Kun caught his father's wrist inches. from his chest. His father was 73 years. old, but fought like a man possessed. It. took three orderlys to pull them apart. Kun wrestled the knife away. He subdued. his father without getting hurt. If he. hadn't been on edge, if he hadn't been. warned, he might not have reacted fast. enough. His mother reached across. whatever separates the living from the. dead to save her son's life. But Charles. Peek wasn't calling to warn anyone. He.

wasn't calling to say goodbye. He was. leading them somewhere. [music]. [music]. The Chadzsworth crash was the deadliest. train accident in California history. I. lived in LA at the time. I remember it. The impact fused the trains together. into a single mass of twisted steel and.

fires burned for hours. Thick black. smoke was visible for 20 m. 2,500. gallons of diesel fuel leaked from. ruptured tanks. The smell of burning. plastic and diesel reached Northridge 6. mi away. Andrea was at the station. waiting for Charles when the news broke. She drove to the crash site, but police. held her back. She joined his parents, his brother, his sister, and his. stepmother in a waiting area. They sat. in that room for hours, terrified, waiting for the survivor list. Then they. were waiting for the list of the dead.

And then in the middle of that silence, Andrea's phone rang. She looked at the. screen. Charles. The room went still. She grabbed the phone with shaking hands. and pressed answer. Charles, baby, are you there? She. expected a voice, a cry for help. Anything. She got static. that low. rhythmic hum like wind blowing through a. long tunnel or someone trying to breathe. through damaged lungs. The call lasted. six seconds and it dropped. The family.

stared at each other. Pocket dial. glitch. Well, 5 minutes later it. happened again. This time his son's. phone rang. Caller ID: Dad. He answered, "Dad, where are you?" Static. Heavy. hollow silence. Then the line went dead. Then his brother's phone rang. Then his. stepmother's. For the next 11 hours, his. phone launched a desperate campaign. It. called everyone he loved. His fianceé, his parents, his siblings, his children.

35 separate calls. Each time they. answered, each time they screened into. the receiver, begging him to speak, begging him to tell them where he was. And each time they got that strange. hollow static. To the family. This meant. one thing. Charles was alive. He. survived the crash. He was trapped in. the wreckage, maybe pinned, maybe. injured too badly to speak, but he was. conscious. He was holding his phone. He. was pressing send. He was telling them. he was still there. The family ran to. the police station and shoved their.

phones in the officer's faces. He's. calling us. Look, he's calling right. now. This changed the entire operation. Before the calls, firefighters worked in. recovery mode. They assumed everyone in. the front car was dead. They moved. carefully, treating the wreckage as a. crime scene. But if a survivor was. calling out, this was now a rescue. mission. The fire chief sent 250 firefighters to. the site. 50 paramedics stood by. They. brought cutting equipment, jacks, cranes. Over 100 tons of steel had to be.

moved piece by piece without causing. further collapse. Police contacted. Verizon and traced the signal. Every. call came from PC's phone. Every ping. came from the same location. The phone. was broadcasting from the epicenter of. the disaster. The lead passenger car. crushed to half its original size. The. firefighters went back in. The work was. dangerous. Wreckage twisted under. immense pressure. Fire is still. smoldering. Air thick with smoke in the. stench of burning plastic and diesel.

But they had a target now. They cut. through steel. They lifted heavy debris. Every time the phone rang, they got a. fresh ping. The signal guided them. through tons of twisted metal. 35 calls, 35 pings. The rescue team worked through. the night, exhausted, running on. adrenaline and hope. At 3:28 a.m., 12. hours after the crash, the call stopped. Maybe the phone battery died. Or maybe. Charles had lost consciousness. But it. didn't matter. They had his location. 1.

hour later, just before dawn, they broke. through the final layer of debris. They. aimed their flashlights into the crushed. car. The beam hit a man in a seat. It. was Charles. He didn't look injured. Unconscious, maybe. For a second, they. thought they pulled off a miracle. It. didn't. The rescue team rushed to him. Charles.

was still strapped into his seat, not. pinned by machinery, not trapped under. rubble. He didn't look injured. A firefighter reached out and checked. for a pulse. Charles skin was cold. Charles pec was [music] dead and had. been for a while. The injuries were. catastrophic. Crushed thoracic cavity, severed spine, massive internal. bleeding. His heart stopped instantly. when the trains collided. The crash. occurred at 4:22 p.m. Charles Peek died. at 4:22 p.m. According to the medical. examiner, brain function ceased the.

moment of impact. No suffering, no. waiting for rescue. instantaneous death. He was dead 12 hours before they found. him. He was dead before the first call. to Andrea. He was dead for the call to. his son, the call to his brother, the. call to his stepmother. Dead for every. single one of the calls that guided the. rescue team through the wreck. The comfortable explanation is technical. glitch. Maybe the impact shortcircuited. the phone. Many damaged wiring was. causing it to randomly dial contacts.

from his favorites list over and over. for 11 hours. But there's a problem with. that theory. When firefighters found. Charles, they wanted to secure his. personal effects, especially the phone. that guided the entire rescue operation. They checked his pockets, empty. They. checked the floor around his seat, the. seat pockets, the debris within arms. reach, no phone. They expanded the. search, sifting through wreckage in. every direction. They checked unders. seats in overhead compartments beneath. debris. No phone. They swept the area.

with metal detectors. They photographed. every piece of wreckage before moving. it. Standard protocol for securing. evidence. They found his wallet. They. found his keys. They never found the. phone. The device that made 35 calls. over 11 hours. The device that pinged. cell towers and transmitted a signal. strong enough to guide a rescue team. through the wreckage was gone. It wasn't. in his hand. It wasn't in his pocket. It. wasn't anywhere in the car. The signal. came from his seat, but the source. didn't exist.

Charles Peek died instantly. He didn't. have a pulse, no brain activity, no. phone. Yet, for 11 hours, he reached. out. He called the woman he was going to. marry. He called the children he was. leaving behind. He called everyone who. loved him over and over until they found. his body. And once they did, he hung up. We want to believe that when we die, we. leave this world completely. But stories. like this make you wonder if the. connection is ever fully severed. Maybe. in the static between stations, a signal.

can still get through. [sighs]. So tonight, before you go to sleep, check your phone. Make sure it's. charged. Make sure the volume is on. Because if it rings in the middle of the. night and the caller ID shows a name you. haven't seen in years, don't be afraid. Answer it. They might need your help. Or. you might need theirs.

Gather around because this happened. Abalene, Texas, January 1996. Brian Bethl sat in his car outside an. empty theater parking lot. He was. writing a check to pay his internet. bill. He stopped under the marquee to. use the light. Then a rhythmic tapping. on his window. Two boys stood outside, hoodies pulled low, faces hidden. Brian.

rolled down the window just to crack. The boy in the green hoodie stepped. forward. That's when Brian saw his eyes. Brian Bethl was a reporter 20 years at. the paper of Crimebe. He had interviewed. murderers, documented accident scenes, covered trauma that sent other reporters. to therapy. He was running an errand. Nothing unusual about it. But sitting in. that parking lot, he gripped the.

steering wheel until his knuckles went. white. His heart slammed against his. chest. Every instinct said, "Run." His. brain didn't understand why. Not yet. The noise of the city faded away and. traffic went silent and the wind died. Even the electrical hum of the parking. lot lights stopped. The silence was. absolute. Brian's ears popped like a. change in pressure, like an airplane. descending, but it was instant. The hair on his arms stood straight up. and his ears popped again. Then the.

parking lot lights buzzing came back and. the traffic returned, but that uneasy. feeling remained. Brian looked at the. boys outside his window. They looked. normal enough, maybe 10 or 12 years old. One was slightly taller. They [music]. had pale skin, red hair, nothing. remarkable. They stood completely still. No fidgeting, no shifting weight. This. is not the way kids naturally move. They. stood like statues, patient and. motionless. The taller boys smiled, but. it was a performance. Friendliness that.

didn't match the stillness, the. patience, the way the boys watched him. >> Hey, mister, we have a problem. That voice was wrong. Smooth and. wellspoken, [music] but didn't sound. like a child's voice. It sounded like an. adult imitating a child, hitting the. right notes, but not quite authentic. The boy gestured toward the theater. >> "We want to see the movie, but we left. our money at home. Could you give us a.

ride to my house to get the cash? It's. not far.". >> Brian's thoughts felt slow, heavy, like. he was moving underwater. But his hand. moved toward the door handle without his. permission. He watched his own fingers, reaching for. it. He tried to fight it, tried to tell. himself, "These are just kids who needed. help." He forced himself [music] to look. directly at the boy, tried to break. whatever spell had taken hold. The boy. tilted his head and light [music] from. the marquee cut across his face. No.

reflection, no life. Then Brian saw the. boy had no eyes. Brian couldn't breathe. His hands were. shaking. Adrenaline flooded his system. Every cell in his body screamed the same. message. Run. The boy had no eyes. Not. damaged eyes, not clouded eyes, voids. The entire visible surface of each eye.

was solid black. Edgetoedge darkness. Then the trance broke and panic flooded. in. His hand froze on the door lock, then snatched back like he touched a hot. stove. The change in the boys was. immediate. The polite act dropped. The. taller boy's expression shifted to cold. fury. A fury that wasn't human. He. didn't scream or pound on the glass. He. just stared with those impossible black. eyes. An itch formed in Brian's skull, fresher building. The taller boy's voice.

was so calm, so reasonable. >> You just need to get to our mother's. house. It won't take long. >> Brian's fingers touched the lock again. He didn't decide to do it. His hand just. moved. The kid didn't sound like a kid. anymore. His voice dropped. It sounded. cold. It sounded dead. >> We can't come in unless you invite us. Let us in. We don't have a gun. >> Brian hadn't mentioned guns, hadn't. thought about guns. If the boy was.

trying to reassure him, he just made it. worse. Then Brian thought about what the. kid just said. They needed permission. He couldn't just open the door himself, like some rule prevented it. >> We can't come in unless you tell us we. can. >> It was almost like the boy's voice was. coming from inside Brian's brain. He. looked down. His hand was an inch from. the lock. He had to get out of here. Brian slammed his foot on the gas. The. tire squealled. He spun the wheel and. tore out of the parking lot. He checked.

the mirror. The street behind him was. empty. The parking lot was empty. The. boys were gone. Not walking away, not. running, just gone. Brian drove home. fast. He ran into his house, through the. deadbolt, checked every window. He. turned on every light, and sat in his. living room holding a kitchen knife. until the sun came up. The next day, he. did what any journalist would do. He. wrote down everything that happened. Then, he published the account online. He titled it simply be, Blackeyed Kids.

With an hour is the email started. A cop. with 20 years on the force, a nurse, a. software engineer, all with the same. story. Two children, black eyes, that. polite request. And every email said, "I've never been that scared in my. entire life. The emails came from everywhere, different states, different witnesses.

But the same story. The details match. too perfectly to be a coincidence. Always at night, always a knock or a tap. to announce their presence. Always a. mundane request, a phone call, directions, a ride home, and always that. wall of silence, the sudden drop in. temperature, the overwhelming sense that. a predator is nearby. Portland, 1998. A software engineer. leaving downtown late at night. Three. kids on a street corner. Two boys, one. girl. They [music] tried to guilt him.

One said, "You'd promised you'd help. us." He'd never seen them before. As his. car passed, he saw their eyes in the. street light. Solid black. Different. state, different witness, same eyes. The. reports kept coming. Over,200 documented. accounts. 47 countries, same eyes, same. silence, same requests. But there was. one strange pattern repeated across. every account, every country, every. year. 100% of documented cases show the. same limitation. They cannot enter.

without permission. They can't get into. your car unless you unlock the door. They can't cross your threshold unless. you invite them. They're bound by some. ancient law that even they can't break. So, they manipulate. They beg. They. weaponize guilt. >> It's freezing out here, mister. >> We're just kids. Why are you scared of. us? Please, our mom will be so worried. They use human empathy as [music] a. weapon. We're programmed to help. children. Evolution wired us that way.

They know exactly which buttons to push. But here's what keeps researchers up at. night. We have hundreds of accounts from. people who refused, people who listened. to their instincts, who [music] drove. away, who kept the door locked. We have. zero firsthand accounts from anyone who. let them in. No blog posts describing. what happened next. No police reports. filed the following morning. No social. media updates. The people who open the. door don't tell their stories. Brian. Bethl still lives in Abalene. He still. works as a journalist. In 2013, a.

reporter asked if he still thinks about. that night. I I've covered murders, accidents, all. kinds of trauma. Nothing. nothing. compares to that level of fear. >> Not that long ago, he found two small. handprints on his car window. That's. scary enough. But what really bothers. Brian, the handprints were on the. inside.

Gather around because this happened. Charleston, South Carolina, 1995. Sunonny Graham lay in a hospital bed. His heart was enlarged and failing. Doctors gave him weeks to live. 200. miles away, a man named Terry Codddle. put a gun to his head and pulled the. trigger.

Terry's heart was strong. Doctors rushed. it to Charleston and transplanted it. into Sunny's chest. Sunny woke up with a. new pulse, feeling stronger than he had. in years. But Sunny inherited more from. Terry than just his heart. A lot more. Sunonny Graham was a popular guy at. Hilton Head. As manager of the central.

plant, he knew just about everyone on. the barrier island. His cooking was. legendary at fundraisers and community. events. The local high school football. field was named in his honor. He and his. wife were married 38 years, two. children. In 1994, a virus attacked Sunny's heart. muscle. The damage was severe. By 1995, Sunny was 56 years old and dying. His name went on two transplant lists. He waited and his heart kept failing. One evening, Sunny got the call. A heart.

had become available. Terry Codle's. heart, close to a perfect match. Terry. Codddle spent 4 days on life support. A. 22 caliber slug entered his skull just. behind his right ear. He was 33 years. old. That day, his wife, Cheryl, agreed. to take him off life support. His organs. could save lives. The surgery went well. Within 6 months, Sunny was strong enough. to go on a fishing trip to Alaska. But. something was different. Sunny had always hated hot dogs. The. smell, the taste, everything about him.

Now he ate them every day, sometimes two. or three. He developed a taste for beer. and heavy metal music. He never cared. about beer and metal before. His wife. started seeing changes. Sunny's. handwriting looked different. He walked. differently. He laughed differently. She. said he seemed like a different person. His friends noticed, too. Friends that. he had for 40 years or more. But Sunny. felt something else, something he. couldn't explain to anyone. He felt a. pull toward the donor's family. He.

needed to thank them, to meet them, to. understand who had given him this second. chance. In late 1996, he wrote the. donor's widow. Her name was Cheryl. Codle. She agreed to meet him. They met at a restaurant in Charleston. in January 1997. The moment Sunny saw. her, his chest tightened. He felt a. physical jolt, a sudden acceleration. that didn't feel like attraction or. nerves. It felt like recognition. His. heart beat faster when she smiled. It. slammed against his ribs when she spoke.

He felt a rush of emotion that didn't. belong to him. Love, guilt, and a. desperate need to protect this woman. Cheryl felt it, too. She said later that. meeting Sunny was like seeing Terry. again. Cheryl was only 30 years old. She. looked at this older man with gray hair. and weathered hands, but she felt her. dead husband's presence. She felt him. looking through Sunny's eyes. Sunny went home to his wife that night, but he couldn't stop thinking about. Cheryl. He called her. They talked for. hours. He visited her. He felt compelled.

to take care of her in ways he couldn't. explain. [music]. Soon, Sunny's marriage fell apart. His. wife couldn't compete with a ghost. That. April, Cheryl married another man. Sunny. gave away the bride, standing in for her. late father. Sunny watched her walk. towards someone else. But it was. Tererry's heart pounding in [music] his. chest. That marriage didn't last either. Both couples fell apart under the weight. of what neither could explain. The pull. between Sunny and Cheryl that defied. reason.

Cheryl married Sunny in December 2004. Two different men, same heart. And that. heart was bringing her husband back. For a while, things felt right. Sunny. felt younger. He had a new wife, a new. heart, a new beginning. Then the. depression started.

Terry Codddle hadn't just died. He'd. killed himself. He was a man who. struggled with depression he couldn't. escape. He put a gun to his head because. the weight of living became unbearable. And now something dark lived inside. Sunny. His personality shifted. Friends. who'd known him for decades said they. didn't recognize him anymore. The. gentle, kind man who was the first to do. a friend a favor. That man was. disappearing. And Sunny talked about feeling trapped, about living someone else's life, about. thoughts that didn't feel like his own.

Sunny became moody and withdrawn. He. grew possessive, jealous in ways he'd. never been. He accused Cheryl of seeing. other men. He followed her car. He. checked her phone. Then the fight. started. The relationship turned toxic. [music] Sunny felt trapped in a life he. didn't recognize. He said he didn't feel. like himself anymore. He felt like a. passenger in his own body watching. someone else make decisions. In 2007, Sunonny drew up a will. He. asked his nephew to be the executive. He. organized his finances, paid off debts,

settled accounts. People noticed. They. asked if he was okay. Sunny said he was. fine just getting things in order. The. beer, the hot dogs, the instant love for. Cheryl. His handwriting changed to match. Terry's looser, more careless style. These weren't coincidences. [music]. These were Tererry's preferences, Terry's traits, Terry's life. Sunny. walked a path already walked. He. followed footprints that weren't his. own. The years passed. Whatever joy. Sunny found in his second chance.

evaporated. Instead, Sunny had a sense. of impending doom. He was living Terry. Cado's life, and he knew how that life. ended. April 1st, 2008, 12 years 12 days after. the transplant, neighbors in Vidilia, Georgia were jolted awake by the sound.

of a shotgun blast. That morning, Sunny Graham drank his. coffee and told Cheryl he was taking his. 9-year-old stepson to the dentist, then. off to work, a normal day. But Sunny. made a detour to his backyard shed. there. The 69-year-old picked up the 12. gauge shotgun he'd taken on countless. hunting trips. He pointed the muzzle at. the right side of his throat, just like. Terry did all those years ago. Then. [music] Sunny pulled the trigger. It was. April 1st, almost exactly 13 years since.

another man's suicide gave Sunonny. Graham a second chance at life. Different weapon, same [music] method, same location. Sunny Graham died. instantly. He left Cheryl a widow for. the second time. Two husbands lost, both. to self-inflicted gunshots to the head. Two men, one heart, same fate. The story. spread across the world. Reporters wrote. about cellular memory and whether organs. could hold a suicide gene. The internet. lit up with theories. Scientists.

documented this phenomenon for decades. Personality changes following heart. transplantation. four categories. Changes in preferences, alterations in. emotions and temperament, modifications. of identity, and memories from the. donor's life. [music] The heart contains. about 40,000 neurons, a network that. operates independently of the brain, a. heart brain that communicates. birectionally with the brain and other. organs. Researchers documented this. cardiac nervous system in the early. 1990s. Some theorized that cellular.

memory could transfer personality. characteristics from donor to recipient. Studies of 73 heart transplant patients. showed 89% reported personality changes. after receiving their organ. [music] And. not subtle shifts, fundamental. alterations in who they were. Claire. Sylvia received a heart lung transplant. from an 18-year-old male motorcyclist. She suddenly craved beer and chicken. nuggets, food she later learned were her. donor's favorites. [music] She dreamed.

about a man named Tim L. Her donor's. name was Tim. A woman received a heart. from a police officer killed in the line. of duty. She started seeing flashes of. light in her eyes, feeling burning. sensations on her cheeks. She later. learned the officer was shot in the. face. A 5-year-old boy received the. heart of a three-year-old named Tim. The. recipient had never been told the. donor's name. He called his donor Tenny. He said Timmy got hurt [music] when he. fell down and likes Power Rangers. Well, Tim fell from a window ledge reaching.

for a Power Ranger toy. The theories exist. The documentation. exists. The cases stack up one after. another. People receiving organs and. receiving something else. [music]. Preferences, memories, traits that. aren't even their own. But theories. don't explain the weight of it. The. lived experience of looking in the. mirror and not recognizing yourself. Of. loving someone you've never met, of. walking toward a shed with a shotgun. because something inside you, something. that isn't you, knows exactly what to.

do. Sunny Graham's heart remembered what his. brain never knew. [music] It remembered. Terry's widow. It remembered Terry's. pain. And when the time came, it. remembered Tererry's choice to end it. [music] all. Thank you so much for hanging out today. My name is AJ. This is the Y Files and. that was a campfire story. No debunking, no analysis, just a creepy story to. scare you and the kids and that one is. true and [music] unsolved. Now, if you.

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back [music] toback with some fun. content in between. And the live chat is. super super fun. Special thanks to our. patrons who make the channel possible. and make every episode of the live files. happen. [music] Every episode is. dedicated to our Patreon members. I. could not do this without you. If you'd. like to support the channel, keep us. going, consider becoming a member on. Patreon. For as little as three bucks a. month, get access to perks like videos. early with no commercials, exclusive. [music] merch, and two private live. streams every week just for you. Do you. hear the whistle on my teeth? It's cuz. I'm I'm going too fast. The the private. live streams are a lot of fun for.

members only. [music] Um my webcam is. on. Everyone on the team has their. camera on. You can talk to all of us. Turn your camera on, jump up on stage, ask a [music] question. It's a lot of I. think it's the best perk there is. Another great way to support the. channel, grab something from the Yfiles. store. That is shop at the wifiles.com. You'll find it. But if you got to buy. merch, become a member [music] on. YouTube. YouTube members get 10% off. everything in the W files store forever. So if you're going to spend 40 bucks on. t-shirts and festival mugs, become a. member on on YouTube for three bucks. Pays for itself. And that money goes to.

the team. That's me. Those are the. plugs. I got through them as fast as I. could. And that's going to do it. Till. next time, [music] be safe, be kind, and. know that you are appreciated. >> [music]. >> Oh. yeah, [music]. I played Bibia in Area 51. A secret code.

[music] inside the Bible said I would. I love my UFOs and paranormal [music]. fun as well as music. So I'm singing. like I should. then another conspiracy theory becomes. the [music] truth my friends. and it never ends. No [music] it never ends. [music].

I feel [music] the crab cat. I got stuck. inside Mel's home with MK Ultra. I feel. only two aware. Did Stanley [music]. Cubrick fake the moon landing alone on a. film set of shadow people [singing]. there? The Roswell [music]. just fought the smiling man. I'm told. and his name was cold. And I can't.

agree. [music] I'm dancing with the fish. and fish on Thursday night. and my family [music]. all through the night. All I ever wanted was to [music] hear. the truth. The world. through the night. [music].

[music]. man sightings and the solar storm. [music] still come to a god the secret. city underground. ground [music]. mysterious number stations, planet. serious [music]. found. in a simulation. [music] Don't you worry.

though the black night satellite over to. me. Oh, I can't believe I'm dancing with. the fish. on Thursday night [music]. and my family all through the night. All I ever wanted [music] was to hear. the truth. My all through the night.

[music]. when they change you. all through the night. All I ever wanted [music] was to be the. truth. One more time on the road. [music]. [music]. Girl loves to dance.

Girl loves to dance [music] on the dance. floor because she is a camel. Camel. loves to dance. And the feeling is right. on wasting time. [music]. [music]. >> [bell and music].