The Ghost of Teresita Basa
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On a chilly February night in 1977, residents of a Chicago high-rise smelled something coming from the 15th floor, something that smelled like smoke. Firefighters raced up 15 flights of stairs to find a flaming mattress inside apartment 15B. They doused the flames before the fire could spread further, but what they saw next shocked them to their core.

Under the charred mattress was the naked body of 47-year-old Teresita Basa. A kitchen knife was driven through her chest. In a flash, the evening turned from a routine fire to a full-on murder investigation. Detectives cased the scene and, to the worst fears of those living in Parkview Tower, ruled it a homicide. But who could have done such a thing? Poor Teresita Basa never did anything to anybody.

She worked as a respiratory therapist and taught on the side. The Filipino immigrant didn't have an enemy in the world with little to go on. Detectives did their best to work with the puzzle pieces they had. Teresita's apartment was trashed and there were apparent signs of a struggle. Perhaps this was a robbery gone wrong. She was expecting an unknown male visitor. Perhaps this was our killer?

She left behind a note reading, "Get theater tickets for A.S. Who or what is this mysterious A.S.? The leads fizzled out and police made one final effort to reach out to the public for any information. The tip line rarely rang and it didn't offer much when it did. The Bassa case went as cold as the February night. Lead detective Joe Stahula closed the book for good and a killer was free to stalk the Windy City.

Then, a lead came in. A lead from beyond the grave. Part 1: Do you believe in ghosts, detective? Detective Stahula joined the Chicago PD in 1967 and witnessed his fair share of violent crimes over his 33-year career.

The murder rate ticked up and up and up from 397 killings in 1965 to 854 by 1973. By the time Stahula stumbled upon Bassa's body in 1977, he'd seen it all. Once the case went cold, Stahula moved on to one of the 822 other murders in Chicago that year. Then, one morning in July, he found a note on his desk telling him to call the Evanston Police Department.

a college town 14 miles north of Chicago. Apparently, they had a break in the case. What could they possibly know? Stahula had to find out. Police in Evanston put Stahula and his partner, Lee Eplin, in touch with a doctor named Jose Chua. Dr. Chua asked the detectives to meet him at his home in Skokie, Illinois, a small village between Chicago and Evanston. It wasn't clear what Dr. Chua knew about the case,

Perhaps he had some professional insight that Chicago doctors overlooked. Maybe he'd known Ms. Bossa and only recently got news of her death. Perhaps it didn't matter what Dr. Chua knew. Stahula and Eplin were desperate for any lead they could get. So, the two detectives drove up the coast of Lake Michigan and met Dr. Chua at his home. Dr. Chua was happily married to Remebios Chua, also known as Remy.

She and Basa shared several similarities, particularly their Filipino background. Both also worked at the now-defunct Edgewater Hospital in Chicago. Remi as a respiratory technician and Basa as a respiratory therapist. They knew each other in life, and apparently, they knew each other in death. The detectives arrived, and Dr. Chua spent the first part of their visit beating around the bush. Something was on his mind.

something he needed to say, but was too ashamed to admit. After several minutes of small talk, Dr. Chua courageously asked the detectives a simple question. Do you believe in ghosts? Ghosts? Both men probably thought. They'd seen every which way you could kill a man in Chicago, and never once were they concerned about ghosts. Then they met Remy Chua. She'd been hearing things, dreaming things,

The good doctor believed his wife was possessed by the ghost of Teresita Baza. She was trying to get a message through from the beyond. He recalled a night when Remi called out to him in a voice that wasn't hers. He described it as a trance-like state. Stahula and Eplin probably called it crazy. Now that she had Dr. Chua's attention, the ghost identified herself as Teresita Baza and that she needed his help.

Somebody killed her. And that somebody's name was Alan Showery. The same initials as A.S. Part 2: The Handyman For the first time during their investigation, Stahula and Eplin had something to go off. A name. But who was Alan Showery? How did he know Miss Bossa? And what drove him to take her life? Is he the A.S. she was buying theater tickets for? And, if he was, why?

Fans of TV cop dramas know detectives look for two key facts when determining a suspect, motive and opportunity. Some suspects have all the motive in the world to kill someone, but a solid alibi. On the other hand, we have plenty of opportunities to kill whomever we please. Thankfully, we lack sufficient motive. Alan Showery fell into the latter category, leaving detectives searching for the why rather than the how.

Let's dive into what Stahula and Eplin did know about Alan Showery's opportunity to kill Miss Bassa. He was an African-American orderly at Edgewater, the same hospital where Bassa and Remi worked. Though he worked in a different department, he knew both women, and they knew him. And while his skin color has nothing to do with why he may or may not have killed Bassa, it's still 1977 Chicago,

According to the annual 1977 report from Chicago PD, 708 of the 1,002 people arrested for murder in the city were black. 349 of them were black males between the age of 25 and 44. However, one statistic that didn't fit the profile was the interracial killing. A nine-year study of homicide in Chicago between 1965 and 1973 found that homicides rarely crossed racial lines.

In fact, as of 1973, 86% of victims and offenders shared the same racial profile. If you glanced at them, you'd easily label Alan Showery as Black and Teresi Tabasa as Asian. A keen eye would say Filipino.

The data was all over the place, and with only the word of a ghost to go on, Stahula and Eplin needed more proof. But even before the detectives showed up, Dr. Chua remained skeptical of this so-called ghost. He held onto the story a week, not wanting to annoy the detectives based on some freak of nature event. But how do you ask a ghost for proof? Perhaps the answer lies in the vessel, Remy. Remy had no idea what was happening.

She didn't remember this voice coming from her mouth and looked at her husband as if he was seeing ghosts. Their doubt must have angered Teresita's spirit. That night, the voice came back with a vengeance, badgering Chua on why he hadn't gone to the cops yet. He parlayed with the voice, saying he needed more proof of Showery's involvement. If it's proof he wanted, it's proof he got.

Basa's ghost said Shaori was there to rob her aunt, just before setting the apartment on fire, made off with her vintage French jewelry. They were unmistakable, one of a kind pieces, nothing you'd find at your average Zales or Jarrett. If police wanted to find the jewels, all they'd have to do was knock on Shaori's door and look at his girlfriend's neck. Before disappearing into the great beyond, the ghost gave Chua a list of names to contact.

If the police ever find the stolen jewelry, these people could confirm whether or not it was Basa's. While skeptical of Chua's story, Stahula and Eplin didn't have anywhere else to turn. It wouldn't hurt to follow the lead if only to rule out the absurd ramblings of a ghost. However, a background check on Showery put a few more pieces of the opportunity puzzle together. Technically, he was Basa's neighbor.

At the time, Showery lived with his girlfriend in an apartment at 630 West Shubert Avenue, under half a mile from the Parkview Tower. Yet the most damning piece of opportunity evidence came when the detectives interviewed a few of Allen's coworkers. According to them, Allen was something of a handyman.

The night Basa died, Alan went there to fix her TV. Another question was answered. The unknown male visitor Basa mentioned to her neighbor was Alan. With enough circumstantial evidence to go on, our detectives figured it was a good time to talk to Alan. They knocked on his apartment door to find him relaxing with his girlfriend, Yanka. Stahula explained why they were there, and Alan agreed to answer some questions down at the police station. But before they left,

Stahula and Eplin took a quick look at Janka's neck. Nothing was there. As they often do, the detectives eased into the interrogation. Since Alan was one of her coworkers, they framed it like they needed his help with the investigation. Instead of confronting him with the evidence, Stahula and Eplin gained his trust, making him think he was helping the case.

When they asked if he'd ever been to Bossa's home, Alan said no. Then they came out swinging, confronting him with what his coworkers told them about fixing her TV. Caught in a lie, Alan changed his story. This time, he did go to Bossa's home in February to fix her TV. From here, the facts get muddied by 50 years of retellings. Some sources say Bossa called Alan and told him not to come.

Others say he showed up, but left after realizing he didn't have the right tools. The latter of these makes more sense. Why would Bossa tell a neighbor she was expecting company only to call him off an hour later? So why not go home, grab the right tools and come back? The two were neighbors after all. According to Alan, he and Yonko were dealing with some electrical problems and would have to come back another time to fix Bossa's TV. Though his story was plausible, even relatable to the average handyman,

Stihula and Eplin still caught Alan in a lie. So, it begs the question, what else was he lying about? The detectives knew they wouldn't get a straight answer out of Alan, but perhaps his girlfriend could point them in the right direction. They went back to question Janka privately. What they learned ultimately buried Alan beneath his lies. According to Janka, Alan wasn't a handyman. She didn't know about any electrical problem.

Even if there was one, Alan wouldn't know how to fix it. Then came the most damning piece of evidence, when Stahula and Eplin asked Yonka if she'd recently gotten any unique gifts from Alan. She paused, thought for a moment, and then said, "'Yes.'"

Back in February, right after Basa died, Alan gave her some jewelry as a belated Christmas present. She showed the detectives the pieces, including a gold pendant around her neck and a pearl ring on her finger. They couldn't believe it. Did the ghost of Teresita Basa just lead them to her own killer? Stahula and Eplin just needed one more piece of the puzzle before they'd believe such an outlandish story.

So, they called the names on the ghosts' list and asked them to come down to the police station. All it took was one look. Everyone on the ghosts' list confirmed that these were, in fact, Boss's jewels. Faced with insurmountable evidence and a vengeful spirit from beyond, Alan Showery threw in the towel.

Part three, the confession. The Ghost of Teresita Bossa case draws enthusiasts from two different walks of life, true crime junkies and paranormal adventurers.

Her story pops up from time to time in literary work across both genres, particularly Colin Wilson's 1988 book, "Beyond the Occult: 20 Years Research into the Paranormal," and his 1981 novel, "Poltergeist: A Classic Study in Destructive Hauntings." Wilson is in the intersection of true crime junkie and paranormal enthusiasts. So, unlike detectives Tuhula and Eplin,

Wilson heard the story and ran with it. And it's from him that we learn a little bit more about who Alan Showery really was. According to Wilson, Showery was a rather boastful person. He'd brag about keeping a private airplane that he'd used to fly back to New York and give lectures. Lectures on what? We can't say for sure. Perhaps Showery was the kind of person that craved attention, a pathological liar that fell for his own charade

It's not impossible that he owned a private plane and moonlit as a professor in the Big Apple, but it's highly unlikely given the nature of his confession. Alan finally sat down with Stahula and Epplin and walked them through that fateful evening. He admitted going to Bossa's house that night, intent on robbing her. He needed rent money, an uncommon predicament for a so-called hobby pilot, because Bossa needed her TV fixed. And as far as she knew, Alan was a handyman.

she willingly let him into the apartment. She even bought him a pair of theater tickets as a thank you gesture. These were the tickets with the initials AS for Alan Showery. Basa turned her back and Alan struck. As Wilson puts it, he encircled her neck from behind and put her in a Japanese half Nelson. Basa fell unconscious and Alan proceeded to loot her precious French jewels. Now what? She knew who he was. She knew he was in the apartment.

How was he supposed to get away with such a glaring liability left behind? Eplin and Stahula wondered the same thing, and Alan gave them a chilling answer. He stripped Basa naked to make it look like a sexual assault. Then he drove the knife through her chest, covered her with the mattress, and set the place on fire.

Ultimately, Allen left with $30 in cash, a handful of Boss' jewelry, and an angry spirit that would one day get her revenge. More than six months after Boss' death, Stahula and Eplin had what they needed: a bona fide, on-the-record confession. The trial was slated for October 1978. Part 4: Legal Precedent

If you've ever watched courtroom dramas on TV, you probably know something about precedent. Without diving headfirst into four years' worth of law school, legal precedent is a rule established in a prior case that could play a role in a similar case. It all hinges on the Latin phrase stare decisis, which literally means to stand in the things that have been decided.

Basically, it requires courts to apply the law in the same way when cases have similar facts. So why is this important in the case against Alan Showery?

Before they officially went to court, Showery's lawyer, William Suano, called a pre-trial hearing to discuss Remichua's bizarre story and the paranormal facts that led Stahula and Eplin to his client's door in the first place. Suano demanded that they dismiss the murder charges, as detectives had no legal recourse for arresting Showery, confession or no confession. In Suano's mind, the confession should have never happened.

Confessions aren't the same as smoking guns. In fact, it's pretty easy for a judge to throw out a confession that was obtained unlawfully. That's why police recite "your Miranda rights" when making an arrest. However, they don't have to read you anything if they're just questioning you.

Allen wasn't under arrest when police first questioned him, and neither was he under arrest when he confessed to the murder. Therefore, they could legally use anything he said against him. Remember, rule number one, never talk to police without your lawyer present. Rule number two, plead the fifth. Unfortunately, someone like Showery didn't have a savvy lawyer in his back pocket, nor a copy of the Constitution. He was scared and probably confused.

Once police caught him in his first lie, the jig was up. Still, Suwano argued that Remi faked her trances and that police didn't have enough probable cause to make a legal arrest. No man had ever been arrested based on a supernatural vision. There was no legal precedent. In turn, allowing this evidence to stand might create a dangerous legal precedent in the future.

In fact, other witnesses from Edgewater mentioned how Remy and Alan didn't like each other. Was it reason enough to pin Bossa's murder on him? No, but that doesn't mean she didn't at least suspect him. Meanwhile, the prosecutor, Thomas Organ, said Stahula and Eplin would have been irresponsible not to follow the lead. As bizarre a story as it was, police couldn't just ignore it.

Faced with a tough decision, Judge Frank Barbaro sided with the prosecution. He let the murder charge stand and set the trial date for October 2nd, 1978. "I see no reason to restrict the investigatory power of the police," he explained. Whether they believed the voices or not, they had to check it out. Part five, a hung jury. In criminal law, all 12 jury members must agree that you're guilty beyond a reasonable doubt.

In the case of Alan Showery, 12 jury members had to decide whether the case they just heard, a case, hinging on a ghostly voice and a possibly coerced confession, was enough to send Alan to prison. Although it was hard to explain how Bossa's jewelry wound up on Yanka's neck, there was no concrete way of proving it. Once again, the case hinged on Bossa's ghost and the people she told police to contact.

But Alan confessed. Shouldn't that be enough? The real question is, are you convinced beyond a reasonable doubt? Is there a scenario where Alan thought he was dead in the water and without the proper guidance of a lawyer, confessed to a crime he didn't commit? After four weeks of testimony, argument and deliberation, the jury returned their verdict. They were hung. All it takes is one jury member to go against the grain to result in a hung jury.

While we don't know how split Alan's jury was, it doesn't really matter. If the jury can't reach a unanimous decision, the judge declares a mistrial. So what did that mean for Showery? Ending in a mistrial doesn't mean Alan was guilty or innocent. It puts Alan in legal limbo, somewhere between you're going back to jail and you're a free man. The prosecution can retry the case or the judge can ask the jury to go back and keep talking it out.

Coincidentally, this is called an Allen Charge, but has no relation to Mr. Showery. In fact, the Allen Charge dates back to 1896, stemming from a Supreme Court murder trial against a 15-year-old African-American boy named Alexander Allen, after he allegedly shot and killed a 17-year-old white boy named Philip Henson. Even though the court vacated the teenager's murder conviction twice,

The judge basically beat the jury over the head until they found him guilty. Thankfully, 22 states reject the Allen charge, meaning a judge can't keep sending the jury back until they all agree. Unfortunately, Illinois isn't one of them. And our Allen could have been subject to what some call a coercive legal loophole.

Instead, the judge declared a mistrial, leaving Alan's future in the prosecution's hands. In Illinois, the prosecution has 120 days to decide if it's worth trying again. If they think they can win this time, they'll request a retrial. But if they don't think it's worth it, they can drop the charges and Alan walks a free man. While awaiting their decision, Showery had plenty of time to think. Was it worth rolling the dice again?

He could spend the rest of his life in jail if a new jury returned with a guilty verdict. On the other hand, he could walk away from it all, a free man if they acquit him of the charges. There's also some wiggle room in the middle. If the jury came back hung again, the judge would declare another mistrial. At that point, would it be worth the state's time and money to put Showery on trial a third time? Would it even be worth their time and money to put him on trial a second time?

All Alan had to do was wait 120 days, and maybe he'd walk away scot-free. We imagine Swano laid all of this out for him, ultimately leaving the decision up to Alan. And nobody but Alan and Swano knows how that conversation went. Rumor has it that Bossa's ghost paid Alan a visit and changed his mind. And while that would sound utterly absurd in any other story, it sounds pretty believable in this one.

Still, something drove him to put the case to bed. Shortly after his first trial, Alan pled guilty to the murder of Teresi DeBassa. The judge sentenced him to 14 years for murder and eight concurrent years for arson and robbery. Part six, aftermath. Four years later, Alan was released on parole

He'd be 76 years old as of 2022, but according to Ray Johnson, a former Illinois investigator turned Chicago history buff, Allen fell off the map sometime in 2004. After his release, Allen moved out to California to live with a relative in Colton, a San Bernardino suburb. He came back to Chicago for a few years before moving to New York, where he grew up before the murder.

However, the interesting plot twist in this story comes almost 30 years after Basa's death, and it has no direct relationship to her case. Remember Alan's lawyer, William Swano? At the time, he worked as a public defender, which is why he ended up representing Alan. A few years later, Swano struck out on his own to start a private practice. He would go on to develop a cocaine addiction and would bribe judges.

In 1991, he pled guilty to racketeering charges and flipped on four different judges he admitted to bribing because he helped expose the deep-seated corruption within the Chicago judicial system. He was only sentenced to four years and prison and ordered to pay a $1,000 fine. But imagine the impact losing to a ghost must have on your legal career.

Showery admitted to killing Bossa and ultimately pleaded guilty to the charges. Still, the elephant in the room was the voice from beyond the grave that set the whole case in motion. Perhaps losing to Bossa's ghost crippled Swano's confidence. So, to ensure he never lost another case, ghost or no ghost,

he turned to bribing judges and scamming his clients. One client named Frank Calistro testified that he paid Suano $5,000. In return, Suano promised to get him off the hook. And yes, while it's technically your lawyer's job to get you off the hook, bribing the judge doesn't count. Crooked lawyers, ghostly voices, and violent crime aside,

The crux of this story is still about a 47-year-old Filipino woman who lost her life to a pathological liar who needed a buck.

Unfortunately, like many victims in sensational stories, the tale waters down the person behind the headlines. As for Teresita's home in Parkview Tower, apartment 15B last sold in 2019 for just over $200,000. We've all heard the saying that real estate agents have to tell you if someone died on the property. Well, in most states, they don't, not unless explicitly asked.

Illinois is one of those states. So unless the buyer knew the story of Basa's ghost, whoever sold them the apartment didn't have to say a word. They say spirits walk this earth because they have unfinished business from their living days. Did Basa's ghost finally rest in peace once Showery was behind bars? Perhaps. Was there ever a ghost to begin with? We'll let you decide.