Unexplained Incident in New Haven


Greetings everyone. My name is Dwayne. I’m a state trooper out of New Haven Connecticut. I’ve been on the force for almost 20 years and a few months back something strange happened that I’ve not been able to shake. I’ve always been a bit of a drinker but ever since that night things have been bad. I’ve been irritable, out of sorts and frankly drinking through each day. I’m hoping that maybe sharing this with someone will help. I can only imagine what my ex would say, so I’m turning towards the anonymous internet instead.

It was a fair day and I was cruising down 95 heading back to the station when I got the call. “Young woman causing a scene crossing interstate 95.” This was the entirety of the report. I called in to get the mile marker and found that I was relatively close. I had been in a hurry to get off of work that day to see my daughter, but frankly the idea of seeing her mother was enough to encourage my to respond. I called in that I was on my way and headed toward the reported scene.

This internet age is crazy. Before I even reached the location I was watching a Youtube video of a young girl running and spinning in circles in the middle of the highway. Sammy at dispatch had texted the link partially so I would know what was happening, but mostly because Sammy was a bored busy-body who loved gossip and glamorization. Regardless, by the time I reached the scene I immediately recognized her. She was hard to miss. She was half naked, with the rags of a white camisole as her only protection against the elements. She was crouched with her shoulder pressed alongside the concrete barrier and frantically peeking over, and then ducking back down.

I positioned my car to protect her from the flow of traffic and called in my position. I carefully got out of the car, and approached her a gently as I could. I had spent years dealing with domestic disputes, which more often than not, included some paranoid, drug addled husband. The state of this woman looked very familiar, and I knew not to provoke someone as high as she must have been.

She saw me coming from long off and locked eyes with mine as I, step by step, got closer. I held my hands low, palms down, showing that I was not a threat. I was good at this and it worked. She let me get within speaking distance without becoming startled, though her eyes were wild and full of trepidation.

“Sweetheart, I’m here to help you.”

She ignore me, instead popping her head up and looking over the barrier to the opposite side of the highway. I looked and saw nothing.

“You’re in danger, young lady”

She spun her head to eyeball me intensely.

“Yes!” she whispered forcefully.

“Ok. Let me help you. Get into the car and we’ll leave.”

I walked towards the car, looking over my shoulder to see her positioning and preparing to follow me like a cat. The moment my door was open she darted from her position and was in the back seat of my cruiser faster than I would have imagined possible.

I pulled away and headed back to the station, all the while looking at her in my rear view. She was cut, bruised, scraped and clearly not well. She kept darting from one window to another looking for something.

“You’re going to be ok now. Can you tell me what happened?”

“They’re coming.” She was distracted, still on the lookout.

“Did someone hurt you? Are they here?” I slowed the car a bit in case the perp was in the local vicinity. She did not answer, yet her answer was clear. She was obviously worried about being found by the people who hurt her. I called into dispatch telling them that I had secured the girl, and that I was on my way back now.

She completely flipped out. She started kicking the seat behind me, spinning her body and screaming.

“No! No! They’ll hear! They’ll find us!” tears were streaming down her cheeks.

“Shh. It’s ok. You’re safe with me. They won’t be able to hurt you. Do they have a police scanner? Is that what you mean?” I was now starting to realize that this girl might not be crazy or drugged. Her eyes were clear, and although highly disturbed, she did not seem to have the classic signs of a tweaker.

“They will hear.” She lowered her voice, looking into my eyes in the mirror.

“Ok. Ok. No more radio. We’ll get you back to the station.”

She calmed a bit and fumbled with her hands between her knees. We only had a few minutes left until we reached the station and the detectives would take over. My curiosity got the better of me and I continued to ask questions. I knew that this was perhaps my only chance to actually figure out what was happening, and frankly the idea of tracking down the scum that hurt this young girl was exciting.

“Who did this. Do you know where they are?”

“Elsewhere. They took me. They took me long ago and…. it’s different. That place. They found me, and they’re looking again…. to take me back, to take me.” She was slow and despondent now.

“What does it look like, the place?

“It’s… It’s bad, and purple. It comes in waves but they hurt. They pull at you, tearing. And the flashes, they… they pull too… but… your brain, your eyes.”

This was getting nowhere fast. I decided that I was not likely to get any legitimate information at this point and stopped. My silence was interrupted by her fresh screams. She held her temples with the palms of her hands, fingers extended, shouting “They’re here now, they found me!”

Over her deranged shouting I heard the break of my radio, and answered it.

“Car 19, this is dispatch, what’s you’re location?”

This was so routine as to be automatic for me. I looked out the drivers side window to check and replied instantly.

“Mile marker 36.” Then something stuck me. “Sammy?”


“Sammy, that you?”. I got nothing in return. “Hello?”


And then it was too silent. I looked in my rear view to nothing but an empty seat. I jammed my breaks and pulled to the breakdown lane, and ran out of the car. I checked the back thoroughly to find nothing. No one. She was just…. gone. There was no sign she’d ever even been there.

I came back to the station empty handed. I was questioned about what was going on. I told them the truth. I told them every single part of what I’m telling you. What I got in return was a 3 week leave, and to never be looked at without concern since. I still have my career, but no one on the force treats me the same. I don’t treat myself the same. I learned on that day that there was something enormous and unexplained among us. I was no threat to it, probably not even a consideration compared to that. But “that” exists. My reality is theirs. They are here, and there is nothing I can do about it.

I just pray that they never want me.

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D.M. Blackwell

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By D.M. Blackwell

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