Jun 10, 2026 · 4 min · 4 segments
Hey Dateline fans! As a bonus, we’re giving you a special preview clip of our new podcast series Five Miles From Home, an all-new original podcast series from Dateline and Keith Morrison. When…
Keith MorrisonHostShe came and we talked, and we recorded the conversation with her permission, and it was dynamite.
If anyone could advise her, surely it would be he about the story she said she had to tell.
It had been eating at me and eating at me.
I couldn't sit there and live with myself knowing what I knew.
And then out it came, the whole terrifying story, possibly true, and possibly a careful and cunning deceit.
I was too in shock and numb.
I didn't know what I was feeling.
It was like I was in a daze.
Still was, she said, about the thing that happened, and about who was there, and what happened after, and what might happen next in a small town deep in the American desert.
They deserve to be in hell for doing that, and there is nothing they can say or do that will make it better.
They cannot fix this.
It doesn't make sense.
I still wonder to this day why.
What's the real reason, or what even really happened?
Casinos, five of them, flashing away like some Vegas in miniature, a golf shot or two off the highway.
And if tempted by a meal or a rest or a roll of the dice, if you pulled off that highway, you'd be welcomed by a great, grinning cowboy, or the improbable towering image of one, 63 feet high, garish and weirdly charming as it waves a welcome.
A giant concoction of neon and steel they call Wendover Will, for West Wendover, name of the town, and a reminder of more innocent days.
It's pretty much the only thing Wendover is known for.
She came and we talked, and we recorded the conversation with her permission, and it was dynamite.
If anyone could advise her, surely it would be he about the story she said she had to tell.
It had been eating at me and eating at me.
I couldn't sit there and live with myself knowing what I knew.
And then out it came, the whole terrifying story, possibly true, and possibly a careful and cunning deceit.
I was too in shock and numb.
I didn't know what I was feeling.
It was like I was in a daze.
Still was, she said, about the thing that happened, and about who was there, and what happened after, and what might happen next in a small town deep in the American desert.
They deserve to be in hell for doing that, and there is nothing they can say or do that will make it better.
They cannot fix this.
It doesn't make sense.
I still wonder to this day why.
What's the real reason, or what even really happened?
Casinos, five of them, flashing away like some Vegas in miniature, a golf shot or two off the highway.
And if tempted by a meal or a rest or a roll of the dice, if you pulled off that highway, you'd be welcomed by a great, grinning cowboy, or the improbable towering image of one, 63 feet high, garish and weirdly charming as it waves a welcome.
A giant concoction of neon and steel they call Wendover Will, for West Wendover, name of the town, and a reminder of more innocent days.
It's pretty much the only thing Wendover is known for.
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