Episode 1, The G-Word

Where I live in Southern California, psychic shops are practically as plentiful as coffee shops.

They're a part of the landscape.

The neon sign, outlining the palm of a hand, promising to tell your fortune, or prophesying a long life.

I know people who have regular appointments with their psychic.

It's the kind of thing you can drop in casual conversation, and no one bats an eye.

And I can understand why.

People want security.

They want to know what the future will hold.

And whether through tarot cards or a crystal ball, the fortune teller will hint at how your story will play out.

Let me say up front, but I don't know how this tale will play out, or how this will end.

Because in this story, the fortune teller came to me.

I mean, at the time, I felt like, yeah, I'm, you know, snitching because whatever.

Like, I was ashamed for reaching out to you.

Now, I don't really be with that way.

I feel like I'm telling my story.

But my never thought in a million years, it would turn into what it is now.

My name is Faith Pinyu, and I'm a reporter at the Los Angeles Times.

But back in October 2019, I was working at a small community newspaper in Orange County called the Daily Pilot.

And that's where I first got a call from Paulina Stevens.

I don't have a recording of that first call.

I wish I had known two record.

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