A warning. This episode contains discussion of sexual assault that may be disturbing. Listener

discretion is advised.

The further north you drive on Boca Canyon Road, the more rural it gets.

The city thins out.

The landscape opens into rolling hills and canyon terrain, a scene of red dirt, oak woodlands,

and dry chaparral clinging to the foothills.

Trails wind through those hills, meant for hiking and sightseeing. The two-lane road

eventually curves towards the Sierra Polona Mountains and the edge of Angeles National Forest.

It feels like you're headed somewhere peaceful and untouched. Up there, before you hit the mountains,

you'll see it. A large wooden sign perched

beneath an elm tree and set into gray stone, right next to a turnoff lined with a white

picket fence. At first glance, the sign looks like the kind of marker you'd see at the entrance

to a national park.

Something welcoming, something wholesome.

The sign introduces you to Camp Joe Scott.

Camp Joe Scott, or Camp Scott for short, first opened in 1958.

By the late 1980s, it had a gym, a softball field, and basketball courts.

The wood-paneled buildings were surrounded by a thicket of lush elm trees. Two dogs, Mikey

and Missy, ran around the property, and the facility regularly hosted dance parties and other social activities.

They say the air smelled like fresh popcorn.

Early reporting by the Los Angeles Times described Camp Scott as a facility resembling a summer camp.

Only, it wasn't a summer camp.

...