Hey everybody welcome back to cold case murder mysteries. I'm your host Ryan Kraus

unlocking the door to madness once again as we indulge one of the more perplexing

mysteries in the true crime world, the Circleville letters.

So bear with me here as I offer an extensive philosophical and societal breakdown of some behavior related to the case we're about to discuss.

Now, what makes this such an interesting choice for today's episode is that there's no evidence to suggest

anybody in this story was ever assaulted, murdered, raped, or attacked in any way.

It's a tale rife with smoke and mirrors with accusations that offer little in the way of proof.

But the consequences are real. And so is the hatred. A venomous tone lurks beneath each retelling of events. But even more prevalent than that is the notion that the narrative in this epic journey is distinctly one built upon perception rather than cold hard facts.

To one person it's a reflection upon the evil that hides among us every day in society, serving up a smile

in daylight, but fangs once the curtains are drawn and the night is closed in.

To another, it might be about power, control, and the allure of self-deification.

In truth, however, it's a story about what goes on behind closed doors, an exploration in devoyarism, jealousy, desire,

and our darkest secret, that we are human, that we desperately seek to find each other in the name of love,

and then spend every moment of every day watching it erode, hoping for a fresh start that won't disappoint us in the same way,

but knowing it inevitably will.

That's the tragedy of adult life, endeavoring to anchor your ship in calm waters,

knowing that the storm will always follow, but seeking that peace nonetheless.

And what we learn within the symbolism of but seeking that peace nonetheless.

And what we learn within the symbolism of such is that all harbors are man-made. Their fantasy, something nature never intended.

A purgatory of safety located between solid ground and the ocean,

between the pain of what we've always known, and the blissful promise of the journey that lies ahead in the light.

We are stuck here because dry land has a beginning and end, a permanence to it.

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