I have lived in the same apartment building for quite some time. It’s nothing grand, in fact it’s one of the cheapest complexes in town. When I first moved here, this town was nothing. We had a few gas stations, one Dairy Queen, one dollar store, and lots of land. You had to drive into the city about twenty minutes away to get groceries or find any source of entertainment. So with that being said, not that many people occupied the units here. There were five, three story, fifteen unit buildings. For awhile, I was the only tenant on my floor here in building five.
However, in the last ten years, this place has flourished. Many houses, schools, shops, and parks started to appear. It was clear that many families were fed up with the city and wanted to move somewhere more secluded and safe. Crime rates were higher than ever and it was at the point in time where parents no longer felt like their kids were safe walking home alone or playing outside. So our little town became that place for families to escape to. It was far enough to avoid the danger but close enough to enjoy on the weekends.
With the growing population, the demand of resources expanded as well. So every month it felt like a new store opened up. Pretty soon, our complex was full and they began construction to expand the apartments. While living here, I’ve seen many types of people come and go in all stages of life. I’ve had many neighbors, some that were very kind, some not so much. More often than not, the people who chose to live here were usually college students leaving the nest for the first time or families in the process of trying to find a home.
About two years ago, a young couple who couldn’t be older than 20 years old moved into the unit right across from mine. They kept to themselves but were very polite whenever we ran into each other every now and again. I remember my first real interaction with the young man, we’ll call him Jason, when he helped me take out my trash because he saw me struggling to carry it down the steps. I found out he was a blue collar man, working hard to support his girlfriend while she was in college pursuing a medical degree of some kind. He humored me for ten minutes outside my door before he shook my hand and went back inside. I remember trying to think of a gesture to thank him. What better way than food? I brought them some ribs I grilled on my patio the next evening and got to know them even more. Jason talked about how happy he was to finally have his own place and how lucky he was to share it with the woman he loved. The girlfriend, Della, was a little reserved but quickly opened up after a few drinks. She kept talking about how supportive Jason was and how stressful her classes were that semester. Being the old man that I am, I don’t get much interaction with others since my family lives out of state. So it was nice to chit chat with these young people that reminded me of my relationship with my late wife.
They were a lot nicer than the college couple that lived on the floor above us that were constantly bickering at each other. I’ve even had to call the cops on them one time because it sounded like they were killing each other. It was refreshing to see a couple in this day and age that truly loved each other and worked hard to build their lives together. Pretty soon, I let them know that if they ever needed help with anything they could ask me. Whether that was advice, tools, or even some extra money to get by, I would be delighted to help them. They never took money but they often invited me over for dinner and even brought me to every church function they attended. When they told me they got engaged, I was so grateful that their hard work was paying off.
I never knew that I would come to care about them so much and be absolutely devastated about what happened to them.
I still remember that first night as if it were yesterday. I heard a knock on my door at about 9pm. I was confused since it was late and I was already in bed, I didn’t know who it could be. I quickly got up, turned on the lights, before finally answering the door.
It was Della, she greeted me with a sheepish smile before quickly coming into my apartment closing the door behind her. Once the door was closed, her usual bright demeanor drained from her face. She locked the door and looked out of the peep hole. Her hands were shaking a little bit and she was clearly frightened.
“What’s going on Della?” I asked feeling very worried.
“Goodness I’m so sorry Clem. I think I was being followed from the parking lot, Jason isn’t home yet so I came here.” She said still visibly shaken.
“That’s alright dear, did you get ahold of Jason? Or would you like me to call the cops?”
I was already walking over to my coffee table to grab the house phone. She shook her head and repeatedly said it wouldn’t be necessary. She told me that she was probably just being paranoid and that she had a long day at school. I was reluctant, but if she was so insistent it was nothing I didn’t want to overstep. We talked for a little longer and I heated up some leftovers for her before she eventually went back to her apartment.
The next few days were pretty ordinary. Jason had recently gotten a promotion and was gone for longer periods of time, while Della picked up a part time job so was pretty much gone all day as well. She had classes all morning then worked at the campus bookstore afterwards. I worried about what happened but I figured if someone really was watching her that night, they probably wouldn’t bother her anymore knowing she lives with someone. I was very glad she didn’t go inside her apartment and came to me instead.
With a growing town, it’s natural that things that happened in the city would soon reach us here too. So I told Della to carry around some sort of protection when she was out alone, especially on campus. I got her a small can of pepper spray and one of those loud panic alarms. She laughed it all off but appreciated the gesture. Her and Jason always called me “G-Pa Clem” despite the fact that we weren’t related. It made me happy because I grew to care about them as if they were my grandkids. So I began to worry about Della’s safety even more when she told me she had to walk pretty far to get to her car late at night after work. She reassured me that she would be fine and attached the alarm and pepper spray to her keys. I was glad that she was going to have it with her, just in case.
Then suddenly, I started to notice strange things happening in my own life. When I went to pick up my mail outside one morning, a man walked up to me asking me which building I lived in claiming that he worked there. I was confused since it was clear that I had both an apartment and mail key. I’ve never seen this man before, and I was pretty familiar with the staff since I lived there so long.
“It’s obvious that I live here, you see I have a mail key. I’m not comfortable telling you which unit I’m in, so please go away.” I told him getting increasingly aggravated.
He insisted that I confirm my building and even my unit number. I told him that I wouldn’t unless he could confirm he was working there. He kept asking if I lived alone or had anyone to back me up. I wouldn’t tell him anything and he increasingly got more worked up. It wasn’t until I started to call the front office that he quickly ran off.
I didn’t know it then, but I was in a lot of danger at that moment.
Another time, I swore I felt eyes on me at the grocery store. I even went back and forth between two aisles to see if the stranger would follow me. He did at first, but then walked away when he realized what I was doing. It was so strange.
A few weeks passed and I noticed every time we got together, that Della did not look well. Jason told me that it was easy to understand why she was so exhausted due to her rigorous schedule but it felt like something more was happening. Any time I mentioned it to her she would laugh it off and tell me to stop worrying. I wish I would’ve paid more attention then and didn’t let her wave me off.
The last evening I spent with Jason and Della, they both looked like they were aggravated with each other. I assumed they got into a fight and even poked fun at it.
“I remember when my wife and I would quarrel like this. Just remember, never go to bed angry.” Jason smiled but Della had an almost hollow look on her face. Her eyes were sunken and it looked like she hadn’t slept in days. She barely ate any of the food on her plate that I made for them.
“Della, are you alright?” I asked her what felt like the one hundredth time. She nodded and began to pick at her food, almost like a child would. Jason sighed in his chair and the rest of the evening felt awkward. When they finally left that evening, I stopped Jason.
“Hey, are you sure you two are ok? Della doesn’t look good.” I was genuinely concerned at this point.
“Our schedules have been a little bit of an issue. And Della hasn’t been feeling very safe going to bed alone, that’s all.”
“Has anything else happened to her since that night she came to my apartment?” My stomach dropped, I knew something was off.
“No, nothing of the sort. She just feels like she is being watched. I’ve been trying to help her but she thinks that I think she’s crazy.” He says shaking his head.
“Well if she ever feels unsafe tell her she can come here, I’m right across the hall. I have a bad feeling.” I’m honest with him. He shakes it off.
“Thanks G-Pa Clem. See you later, thanks again for dinner.” He said before stepping out and back into their place.
I was supposed to watch Jason promise his life to Della, not watch as he said goodbye to her as they lowered her casket in the ground not even a week later.
The night it happened, I was out of town. My late wife’s cousin had passed away so I went to the memorial service a few hours away. My family from out of state visited, so I ended up staying longer than I originally planned. After dinner, I got a hotel and figured I could get free breakfast in the morning then drive home. When I got back, there were cops blocking off the stairs to the second floor, where my unit was. I knew something was incredibly wrong. I tried to get upstairs but they told me that they taped off the area as a crime scene was being examined at the moment.
“I live there! I live on that floor!” I said over and over again. It wasn’t until I saw Jason sitting in the grass with his head in his hands that I knew Della was hurt. He was sobbing and in a state of panic. EMS was trying to calm him down but he was hyperventilating and lashing out at anyone who tried to touch him. His work boots were covered in blood and when I finally saw his face I about teared up myself. He was extremely pale, he looked like he had been crying all night, and his eyes no longer looked gentle. They looked like the spirit was sucked right out of them. His voice was cracked and broken as he repeatedly called out for Della.
They wouldn’t let me talk to Jason. The thought that the cops even suspected Jason, made my blood boil. This man was clearly in psychological distress and traumatized from what he saw inside their apartment. They had to physically remove me from the area because I fought so hard to comfort him.
Later, the details would come to light. And it was way worse than anything I could of ever imagined.
Della was being watched. The night she came to my apartment, was the night the perpetrator found out where she lived. He followed her everyday, from class to class then to work and then home. He learned her schedule, he learned Jason’s schedule, and he even learned my schedule. She wasn’t paranoid. He was just good at staying hidden. He never sought out her number, or messaged her in any way through social media. He just stalked her continuously and waited for the chance to get to her while she was completely vulnerable.
The evening I went out of town, Jason was gone on a late night. The man must of seen me leave, saw that Jason wasn’t home, and took his chance. Della did everything she could to stop him, she called for help, tried to fight back, and almost made it out the door based on the evidence they found. But the extra precautions she took to protect herself ended up being what got her killed. The perpetrator struck her over the head with the bat she kept under her couch, covered her mouth with tape, and sprayed her eyes with the can of pepper spray that I gave to her. He then raped her, tortured her for over two hours before stabbing her to death over 100 times with one of Jason’s knives in his collection.
I was mortified when I heard the details of her death. Even more so, when I realized that he used her methods of comfort against her. When they finally caught the man, I realized it was the same man who approached me at the mailboxes. He must have forgotten which building we lived in or was trying to figure out more about me and my relationship with Della and Jason. I believe without a doubt he was also watching me in the grocery store that day.
To all the young women, even those who don’t live alone, you must be careful. Do not leave signs that you are alone. Do not display your place of work where others can see it, whether it’s because you post about it online or you leave your work badge in your car. Change your schedules. Always text someone where you’re going if you go alone and when you’ll be back. Della lived with another man and even had somewhere to go if she was feeling unsafe but still became a victim of violence.
Here is the part of his confession that shows what these evil people are thinking and taking note of:
“One way I always knew if her boyfriend was home was his work boots. Della did not want him tracking mud inside their apartment so he always took his boots off at the door before going inside. When they weren’t there, it was like she was inviting me inside.”
They are watching, they are waiting, so please be careful.