Aug 27, 2026 · 45 min · 15 segments
We’ve got a listener who still thinks about the little boy from her childhood who desperately needed someone to notice what was happening at home, a creepy encounter with a stranger that ends in a…
Okay, the first one, My Kind Of True Crime Stuff.
Hey, Donna.
Hey, Kerry.
I'm hoping you don't read my stories back to back, but here I am for the call for more sinister sightings, so I figured I'd write in a few of my true crime stories for y'all.
I text this with hopes and prayers that it makes sense.
Enough yapping.
Let's get into it.
So when I was a young work hog, I didn't live in the best apartment complex, so every day my mama would walk me to the bus stop.
I was probably six, so she didn't want me to be out by myself, but also, she didn't have the time to drive me to school in the mornings.
The first couple of times she walked me there, it was very clear none of the other kids had a parent willing to walk them.
So my mom was always the only grownup there, even though she was only, like, 21.
Bless her.
Anyway, there was always one boy who would be eating ramen noodles dry, straight out of the package, like the ones you cook on the stove or in the microwave, and he would just be eating them dry.
My mom asked him if he had anything else to eat at home, and he said he liked the dry noodles and didn't mind.
Of course, I'm sure that bugged my mom a lot more than she let me know, but from that day on, when my mom could, she would bring a box of Pop-Tarts every morning so that all the kids at the bus stop would have something to eat.
This little boy was always so sweet to my mom and me, and he would stand up for me on the bus and walk me home if my mom wasn't at the bus stop in time.
Sadly, I don't remember his name, but I know that he was probably eight at the max.
Well, all I remember is that one day he didn't show up at the bus stop, and another day, and another day.
That's when a cop knocked on our apartment door and asked if my mom knew anything about the lady a couple of rows away from us.
My mom said no, not really, and she had never seen a woman come out of that apartment, but she did know that was the little boy's apartment.
I didn't know any of this was happening at the time, so my mom recently retold the story to me.
That woman from that apartment was a known junkie from around the area and was never home, and when she was, she was just sleeping till she would get up and leave again, leaving her son home alone all of the time.
He would wake himself up for school, go to the bus, and after school, walk home and just be alone.
The neighbors understood the routine better than the mom did because one day the older woman across from his apartment noticed that the little boy hadn't left for the bus stop.
Okay, the first one, My Kind Of True Crime Stuff.
Hey, Donna.
Hey, Kerry.
I'm hoping you don't read my stories back to back, but here I am for the call for more sinister sightings, so I figured I'd write in a few of my true crime stories for y'all.
I text this with hopes and prayers that it makes sense.
Enough yapping.
Let's get into it.
So when I was a young work hog, I didn't live in the best apartment complex, so every day my mama would walk me to the bus stop.
I was probably six, so she didn't want me to be out by myself, but also, she didn't have the time to drive me to school in the mornings.
The first couple of times she walked me there, it was very clear none of the other kids had a parent willing to walk them.
So my mom was always the only grownup there, even though she was only, like, 21.
Bless her.
Anyway, there was always one boy who would be eating ramen noodles dry, straight out of the package, like the ones you cook on the stove or in the microwave, and he would just be eating them dry.
My mom asked him if he had anything else to eat at home, and he said he liked the dry noodles and didn't mind.
Of course, I'm sure that bugged my mom a lot more than she let me know, but from that day on, when my mom could, she would bring a box of Pop-Tarts every morning so that all the kids at the bus stop would have something to eat.
This little boy was always so sweet to my mom and me, and he would stand up for me on the bus and walk me home if my mom wasn't at the bus stop in time.
Sadly, I don't remember his name, but I know that he was probably eight at the max.
Well, all I remember is that one day he didn't show up at the bus stop, and another day, and another day.
That's when a cop knocked on our apartment door and asked if my mom knew anything about the lady a couple of rows away from us.
My mom said no, not really, and she had never seen a woman come out of that apartment, but she did know that was the little boy's apartment.
I didn't know any of this was happening at the time, so my mom recently retold the story to me.
That woman from that apartment was a known junkie from around the area and was never home, and when she was, she was just sleeping till she would get up and leave again, leaving her son home alone all of the time.
He would wake himself up for school, go to the bus, and after school, walk home and just be alone.
The neighbors understood the routine better than the mom did because one day the older woman across from his apartment noticed that the little boy hadn't left for the bus stop.
The rest of this transcript — segmented and speaker-labeled, so you land on the exact moment something was said
Search every transcript — by keyword, by phrase, or by meaning, across every show Radar indexes
Trends — what is surging across podcasts, measured against its own baseline
Alerts — when a name you follow appears in a newly indexed episode
No account is needed to search Radar.