Welcome to Terabytes, the True Crime Podcast, where the stories are dark, the laughs are twisted,

and the terror, well, it's real. I'm your host, and this where we dive into the most bizarre, chilling and downright weird

true crime stories you've never heard.

Make sure you're subscribed so you don't miss a single second of the madness.

It started with a smell.

Not just any smell, but the kind that makes your stomach turn before you even know what

it is.

A mix of decay, dampness, and something chemical, seeping out of an apartment on the outskirts

of Denver.

The neighbors had complained for weeks, first about the noise, strange scraping

sounds in the middle of the night, muffled voices when no one was supposed to be home,

and about the smell. It clung to the walls of the hallway, drifted into other units.

People assumed it was a dead animal, maybe a sewer problem.

But when the building manager finally opened the door, what he found was worse than anything he had imagined.

Inside the small, cluttered apartment of 38-year-old Ronald Platt were rows of glass jars,

jars filled with human remains, fingers, pieces of scalps, floating eyeballs suspended in a murky

yellow liquid.

In the bathtub, a torso half dissolved.

The skin was peeling, the water thick with something dark and oily.

The walls were covered in handwritten notes,

scribbled in a manic, almost childlike scrawl, recipes, measurements,

dates. Ronald Platt wasn't just collecting bodies. He was experimenting on them. The grave

...