Deep Dive
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On the afternoon of Friday June 6 1980, the telephone rang at the Southern California home of Jack Martin. A contractor by trade, Jack was at work, so the call was answered by his teenage daughter, Bonnie. Not immediately recognizing the female voice on the other end of the line, Bonnie asked, "Who is this?" The caller responded, "Bonnie, it's your sister. It's Colleen." Bonnie was in shock.
Her older sister, Colleen Stan, had inexplicably disappeared three years earlier and her family hadn't spoken to her since. On the phone, Colleen sounded shaky and hurried. She reassured her younger sister that she was fine and staying up north with some friends. She didn't elaborate and was evasive when Bonnie asked for more information. But the call sparked a lot of emotion, bringing both sisters to tears.
Colleen asked Bonnie how each member of their family was doing. Bonnie broke the news that their aunt was dying of cancer. In the time Colleen had been away, their stepmother had also given birth. Colleen had a three-year-old half-sister she had never met. The long awaited chat barely lasted five minutes before Colleen interrupted Bonnie, stating that she had to go right away. Bonnie pleaded with Colleen to call back later that night when their father would be home.
Colleen replied quickly, "Tell everyone that I love and miss them," before hanging up. Prior to this call, the last contact anyone had with Colleen Stan was on Thursday May 19 1977. The then 20-year-old lived in Eugene, Oregon and had spent the night at her boyfriend Mark's house. Early that morning, Mark drove Colleen back to her apartment.
Colleen had a close friend named Linda who lived interstate in Westwood, California. It was Linda's birthday and that weekend she was having a party at her home. The impulsive and free-spirited Colleen wanted to surprise her friend by showing up at the party out of the blue. Mark was trepidatious. He felt the six and a half hour journey to Westwood was too far for Colleen to travel alone.
Although Colleen understood her boyfriend's concerns, she was headstrong and independent and couldn't be dissuaded. She assured Mark that she'd be back by Sunday in time for a get-together his family was having. That same morning, Colleen told her roommates about her plan. There was just one problem. Colleen's car was unreliable and she didn't have enough money for public transportation. She had therefore decided to hitchhike.
At the time, hitchhiking was a common means for cash-strapped youth to get around. Colleen had hitched rides around Eugene many times without incident. It was even how she'd met Mark. Although she'd never hitched as far as Westwood, Colleen was confident she could get there by nightfall without any issues. She asked her roommates if they could give her a lift to Interstate 5.
The long stretch of highway curved southward into California and marked the first leg of Colleen's 400 mile journey. Like Mark, Colleen's roommates were apprehensive. Colleen told them, "My mind is made up. Thanks for your concerns, but I'm going." Colleen stuffed some spare clothes into her sleeping bag and grabbed her purse.
Her roommates reluctantly drove her to Interstate 5, all the while urging her to rethink her plan. But Colleen couldn't be swayed. Certain she'd be safe, she got out at the shoulder of the highway and bid her roommates goodbye. On Sunday, Colleen failed to show up at Mark's family get-together. There had been no word from her since she spontaneously left for California three days earlier.
Colleen's friends soon learned that she never even reached Westwood, nor had she contacted the birthday girl, Linda. Colleen's family in Riverside, which was a further 10 hours south, hadn't heard from her either. A missing persons report was swiftly filed. There were no clues along Colleen's intended route to indicate where she might have gone. She didn't have any known ties between Eugene and Westwood that might have diverted her.
Having left no hints about her current whereabouts, it was as though Colleen Stans simply vanished into thin air. The situation was grossly out of character for Colleen, a happy and caring young woman who always stayed in touch with her friends and family. Colleen was particularly close to her father, Jack. Three weeks after her disappearance, Father's Day came and went with no contact from Colleen, further escalating concerns for her well-being.
By this point, the police had failed to uncover any leads in their search for the 20-year-old. All the while, Colleen's loved ones agonized over the enduring mystery, unsure what to think. As years began to pass, Colleen's loved ones wondered whether she had fallen victim to one of the many cults prevalent in California at the time, or some other group that restricted her contact with the outside world. Perhaps she'd broken the law and was on the run.
If she had voluntarily run away, there was little the police could do. Colleen was an adult and free to do whatever she pleased. It was three years into Colleen's disappearance that she suddenly called home and spoke with her younger sister, Bonnie. Bonnie rushed to her father's worksite and gave him the good news. Jack Martin was thrilled to learn Colleen had finally reached out. He finished early and went home, eagerly waiting for Colleen to call back.
But the night passed with no further contact from her. The telephone company traced Colleen's call to a payphone at a gas station in Chico, a Californian city 500 miles north from Jack's residence in Riverside. Home to California State University, Chico was populated by many young people. But as far as Colleen's family were aware, Colleen had no connection to the area. They couldn't think of any reason why she would be there.
After the call, Colleen's family began receiving handwritten letters from Colleen with Chico postmarks. All were brief and scant in detail, merely saying she was living with a family and taking care of their children. In one letter, Colleen detailed her new interest in gardening. She explained that she'd taken up canning fruit as a hobby and even included a few recipes.
However, she never provided a return address or any other means for her family to get in touch. On Christmas Eve of 1980, Jack Martin received another phone call from Colleen. Again, she kept the conversation brief and non-specific. When Jack asked for her phone number so they could speak again, Colleen hesitantly replied, "This is not my phone. I will give it to you some other time."
Jack asked when she'd be coming home. Colleen replied "soon" before ending the call. Not long after, a box arrived at Jack's home. It was a Christmas present from Colleen for her newborn half-sister, a handmade blanket. Three months later, on the night of Friday March 20 1981, there was a knock at Jack Martin's front door.
Outside stood the now 24-year-old Colleen Stan, alone with nothing but a small suitcase that held a few items of clothing and some handmade gifts for her family. Colleen's physical appearance was as shocking as her unexpected arrival. The last time her family had seen her, she'd been healthy and glowing. Now she looked tired, with dark circles around her sunken eyes.
Her skin was pale, and her once long, thick blonde hair was short, dull, and thin. Homemade clothes hung from her gaunt frame. For the first time in almost four years, Jack pulled Colleen into a long-awaited warm embrace. He couldn't help but notice how bony she was. The home was soon abuzz with family members who rushed over to reconnect with Colleen, including her mother, stepmother, sisters, and step-siblings.
They bombarded Colleen with hugs and kisses while filling her in on everything she'd missed. They were cautious not to interrogate her, mindful that whatever had kept Colleen from them might be something she wasn't ready to address or couldn't speak about at all. If they pushed her too soon, she might disappear again. Instead, they made Colleen feel as loved and cared for as possible while waiting patiently for her to broach the topic herself.
But she revealed nothing. That night, Colleen stayed up until 2am reminiscing with her now 21-year-old sister, Bonnie. Within the safety of their sisterly bond and away from the others, Bonnie began seriously pressing Colleen about why she'd suddenly ceased contact. Colleen hesitated before explaining that she couldn't afford to make calls and had been too busy working and babysitting.
This answer further solidified Bonnie's suspicion that Colleen had become involved with a nefarious cult that forced her to surrender all her money and prevented her from contacting anyone outside their circle. The following morning, Colleen was given freshly ironed clothes so she could attend church with her grandmother, who had been praying for Colleen's safe return.
Afterwards, Colleen's family took her to a nearby town to visit her cancer-stricken aunt, and then they all went out for lunch. When they later returned to the family home in Riverside, the phone rang. Colleen answered. She told the caller, "Yes sir," before hanging up. Her mood was now somber. Ten minutes later, there was a knock at the front door. Standing there was a tall, gaunt man who looked a little older than Colleen.
He had greasy, light brown hair combed to one side, with sideburns framing his oily face and a pair of aviator-style reading glasses perched on his nose. He introduced himself as Mike and announced that he had come to pick up Colleen. Mike told Colleen's family that the pair had met several months earlier and were now engaged to be married.
He explained that he was in the computer business and had been attending a seminar nearby, enabling Colleen to drop in to see her family. But now they needed to get back on the road. Colleen's family asked for a phone number so they could keep in touch. Stuttering somewhat, Mike said that they didn't have one as they were in the process of moving to Oregon. He assured the group he'd provide a number once they'd settled. Bonnie was dubious.
From the moment Mike entered the room, the spark in Colleen's eyes faded. In the past, Colleen was always very affectionate towards her boyfriends. Around Mike, she was cool and distant. In another room, Bonnie told her stepmother, "I'm not going to let Colleen leave until I find out what's going on. I will block the door with my body if I have to."
Her stepmother urged her to settle down, worried any antagonistic display would push Colleen away for good. Prior to leaving, Colleen posed for several photos with her family before it was suggested she take one with Mike. She draped her arms around her fiancé, rested her head on his shoulder, and smiled for the camera. She then hugged her family goodbye, telling them she loved them.
At 7pm, barely 24 hours after she'd reappeared, Colleen Stan was gone again. Despite the whirlwind visit, Colleen's family were delighted to have finally seen her. Yet Bonnie remained uneasy. Throughout their conversations, Bonnie had sensed that Colleen wanted to tell her something. Whatever it was, had remained unsaid.
Four years earlier, Colleen Stand began her solo hitchhike to California. Within five minutes of waiting alongside Interstate 5 in Oregon, she got her first ride. A young college student driving a sports car was willing to take her as far as he could, which was a little ways south to Cottage Grove. It barely shaved 20 miles off of Colleen's long journey, but it was progress nonetheless.
From there, Colleen was quickly picked up again, this time by a semi-truck driver. He agreed to take her to Red Bluff, a Californian city a few hours south. As they drove along, the truck driver attempted to grope Colleen. She pushed him away and shouted for him to leave her alone, successfully putting an end to his unwanted advance. It was around 4pm by the time she reached Red Bluff, having travelled for a little over 5 hours.
Her final destination was less than 100 miles east. She was on track to reach Westwood before day's end, just as she'd hoped. Colleen stood on the side of the Highway 36 overpass above Interstate 5 with her thumb out. Soon, a car full of hippie-like young men stopped alongside her. Colleen's guard was up after her encounter with the seedy truck driver.
She carefully assessed the situation and concluded that it wasn't smart for her to be alone in a car with five men. She thanked them before remarking, "Not today." The car sped off. Minutes later, a second car pulled up with a young couple inside. Though Colleen felt safer in their presence, they could only take her a short distance down the highway, so she declined their offer too.
The next car to stop was a cobalt blue two-door 1971 Dodge Colt with a young man behind the wheel. In the passenger seat was a young woman with a baby girl cradled in her arms. The woman rounded down her window to ask Colleen where she was going. "Westwood," Colleen replied. The driver said that they were heading that way and offered to take Colleen with them. Once again, Colleen assessed the situation.
The couple were an unremarkable working class pair. The man looked to be in his early 20s and judging by his outfit he was likely a manual labourer who'd spent the day toiling. His jeans, shirt and boots were dirty, his blonde hair greasy and he smelled of sweat. Both the man and woman wore eyeglasses but the woman was a few years younger. She had long black hair and was dressed casually in shorts and a t-shirt.
The little girl in her lap was a little under a year old. Her presence reassured Colleen, who squeezed in behind the passenger seat, thanking the couple for their kindness. As they drove on, their surroundings became more remote. Colleen glimpsed the driver's eyes as he kept staring back at her in the rearview mirror. They asked why she was heading to Westwood. Colleen explained it was to surprise a friend for her birthday.
"She doesn't know you are coming?" the man asked, prompting Colleen to respond, "No, it will be a complete surprise." He began peppering her with questions, asking if she hitchhiked often and whether she was married. Colleen was tired and quickly grew weary of his interest in her personal life, but she didn't want to be rude so she answered each question briefly.
Despite everything the couple learned about Colleen, they didn't tell her a single fact about themselves. They drove for less than half an hour before the man announced they needed to stop for gas. He pulled into a station in Payne's Creek, a quaint rest stop among farmlands. Colleen headed to the bathroom to freshen up. While splashing herself with cool water, she was suddenly overwhelmed by an instinct to run and never look back.
Colleen's attention was drawn to a small window that led outside. Her internal voice urged her to crawl out of it and run. Colleen didn't know what to make of these disturbing feelings. She left the restroom and was immediately met by the smiling couple who offered her some candy. This quelled the peculiar feeling of dread bubbling away inside of her. Westwood was less than an hour away.
All Colleen could think about was getting there before nightfall. The group got back into the car and drove eastward, but something odd drew Colleen's attention. On the seat next to her was a wooden cube-shaped box that she hadn't noticed before. It measured about a foot on each side and featured several metal hinges and leather reinforcement straps. Having no idea what it was or could be used for, Colleen disregarded it.
Beyond Payne's Creek, the sparsely populated farming landscape transformed into dense, uninhabited pine forest that loomed over the now isolated stretch of highway. The man said there were some ice caves nearby that he'd heard about. He asked if it would be alright if they stopped for a bit to check them out. It was now approaching 5pm. Colleen was concerned they wouldn't make it to Westwood before dark, but the couple assured her they would.
Not wanting to be ungrateful, she reluctantly accepted their new plan. They headed down an unmarked dirt road and about a quarter of a mile into the forest before the man stopped the car. Colleen hadn't seen any signs indicating the direction of the ice caves, but trusted the couple knew where they were going. Not wanting to prolong the visit, she opted to stay behind as the couple got out with their baby and headed towards a nearby creek.
The next time Colleen looked up, only the woman and baby were standing there. The man had vanished. Suddenly, the man leapt into the back seat and pressed a butcher's knife to Colleen's throat, ordering her to put her hands above her head. Frozen in fear, Colleen couldn't believe what was happening. Within seconds, her hands were handcuffed behind her back. The man asks, "Are you going to do as I tell you?"
Adrenaline pumping, Colleen was too overwhelmed to speak and could only nod. A blindfold was placed over her eyes before something was harnessed tightly around her head that secured a white leather strap across her mouth, gagging her. Her ankles were then tied together with rope. Everything the man did was so swift, precise and purposeful, Colleen sensed he'd been planning and practicing it for some time.
A heavy object that felt like it weighed about 20 pounds was forced over Colleen's head, contoured to the exact shape of her skull. She realized it was the strange wooden box from the back seat. The inside was lined with foam, rubber and carpet, blocking out light, sound and air, creating a suffocating sensation. The box snapped shut and was locked so tightly around Colleen's neck that she felt like she was being strangled.
As she lay completely restrained in the back seat, her sleeping bag was then spread out on top of her. Sweltering under the sleeping bag and inside the stifling head box, Colleen feared she'd die of heatstroke. From the muffled sounds around her, Colleen deduced that the woman and her daughter were back inside the car. An additional weight was placed on top of Colleen's body. It was the baby. Colleen felt the car take off.
After a short bumpy ride, they re-emerged on the highway and wound along the mountainous route. In time, Colleen heard the barely audible sounds of passing traffic and town life. They were back amongst civilization. The car sped, veered, and circled in many directions before finally coming to a stop. The sleeping bag was lifted off Colleen and finally, the wooden box was removed from her head. The rush of cool air was exhilarating.
Colleen's blindfold and other restraints were kept on as she was forced to sit up. Her captors were eating hamburgers and fries, which Colleen assumed must have come from a drive-thru restaurant. While she had no real comprehension of where they were, she knew it had to be somewhere private for the couple to be bold enough to consume a meal without concern. Struck by their nonchalance, Colleen began plotting an escape,
She barely had time to consider anything worthwhile before she was forced to lie back down. The wooden box was clamped back over her head, removing any possibility of a getaway for now. They drove for a while before stopping again. This time the man removed the wooden box and the rope from around Colleen's ankles but kept the handcuffs, blindfold and gag in place. "Sit up," he ordered. He asked if she would do as she was told.
Colleen gave a muffled yes from behind her gag. She was told to get out of the car. Through a slight gap in her blindfold, she could tell it was nighttime. The man gripped Colleen's shoulders and pushed her up a set of porch steps to what she figured was the back door of a house. Inside, the glimpse of a stove indicated she was in a kitchen. Colleen was taken through another door and down a steep flight of 14 wooden stairs into a cold, dusty basement.
She was tormented by the question, what are these people going to do to me? Casefile will be back shortly. Thank you for supporting us by listening to this episode's sponsors. Thank you for listening to this episode's ads. By supporting our sponsors, you support Casefile to continue to deliver quality content. Colleen was left alone with the man who ordered her to stand on top of an icebox.
Colleen's handcuffs were then replaced with stiff leather straps, which were attached to something above. She could feel her captor's hands shaking with excitement as he removed her shoes and stripped off her clothes. Through the slit in her blindfold, Colleen could see that the concrete basement was dimly lit by a single light bulb with two small windows high up on an adjacent wall. The windows were covered in black plastic.
The space was around 14 feet long and 23 feet wide. Colleen was attached to a wooden beam that ran across the ceiling. Items hung from nails on one of the walls, but Colleen couldn't make out what they were. She spotted a magazine open on a wooden table before her. The pages featured an image of a naked woman strung up in the exact manner as Colleen. The man began running his hands over Colleen's naked body.
Without warning, he then kicked the icebox away, causing Colleen to drop and dangle in a Y shape. The weight of her hanging body caused immediate searing pain in her shoulders and wrists. Tears seeped into Colleen's blindfold as she violently thrashed her legs in a desperate, fruitless search for something to stand on. Naked, aching, and trembling, Colleen sobbed as she thought, "Why me, God?"
Realization dawned that no one in Westwood was expecting her and therefore wouldn't be instigating a search. Colleen feared that by the time anyone figured out something was amiss, she would be dead. The man went upstairs only to return a moment later with his female companion. They took off their clothes and began having sex on the table in front of Colleen.
Sickened, the full impact of her ordeal began to sink in as she struggled to comprehend exactly what sort of people she was now at the mercy of. Then, all of a sudden, she heard a crack. She was struck by a sharp, excruciating pain across her back. It happened again, this time against her stomach. She was being whipped over and over.
Colleen realized the unidentifiable items she'd seen earlier on the wall were a collection of whips. Each strike produced unbearable pain unlike anything Colleen had ever experienced. It felt as though she was being assaulted right down to her soul. She flailed as the man barked at her to stop kicking, saying, "It'll be over sooner." With great agony, Colleen made herself go limp, bringing the assault to a stop.
A small box was placed under her feet, enough for her to stand awkwardly on her tiptoes and provide some much needed relief. The couple resumed having sex. Once they were finished, the woman headed back upstairs, leaving Colleen alone with the man. He traced his fingers over the welts the whip had left on her body, as though it admiring his work. Suddenly, the man kicked the box from under Colleen away, reigniting the fiery pain in her limbs.
There were several flashes of light and Colleen realized she was being photographed. The icebox was then returned under her feet and the leather straps were removed from her wrists, allowing her to get down. Colleen's hands were completely numb. The man pushed Colleen face first into a crate near the stairs. It was long enough for her to stretch her legs out but too small for her to stand.
Her ankles and wrists were chained to the crate and the wooden, soundproofed box was once again secured around her head. Colleen was instantly consumed by the feeling of choking claustrophobia and began to hyperventilate. She screamed and fought desperately against the chains, to no avail. Each breath felt like it could be her last.
After an indistinguishable amount of time, Colleen's distress was interrupted by the sensation of someone touching her winded back. She tensed as the head box was opened. It was her captor. "What's wrong?" he asked, his voice irritated and angry. She explained that she couldn't breathe and begged for her bruised wrists to be released. He replied, "If you don't shut up, I'll cut your vocal cords."
I've done it before, and I'll do it again." The head box was then resealed, sending Colleen back into the oppressive, stifling darkness. Colleen had no way of knowing whether she was ever left alone, but as the night wore on, she occasionally felt the man's touch. Her restraints prevented her from changing positions, and soon all her limbs went numb. Her lungs burned from struggling to breathe,
The unrelenting discomfort prevented her from falling asleep. By morning, the basement was cold and Colleen was exhausted. The man removed the chains and headbox but kept the blindfold and gag in place. "Stand up," he commanded. Colleen struggled to her feet. The man grasped her by the shoulders and pushed her against the table where he and his partner had sex the night before. "Climb up," he said.
Too tired to fight, Colleen got up on the table, asking, "When will you let me go?" "Soon," he replied, as he positioned her to lie face up. The man referred to the wooden table as "the rack." It measured eight feet long, three feet wide, and three feet high, allowing him access to Colleen's body without having to bend over.
Colleen was restrained to the table spread-eagled in an X shape, with her wrists chained to the top corners and her ankles to the bottom. The soundproof box was then secured onto her head. Colleen waited nervously, but nothing happened. She finally found herself drifting off to sleep. By the time Colleen woke, she had no concept of time.
She occupied her mind by reminiscing about her friends and boyfriend, until the thoughts were interrupted by the head box being opened. Sit up, her captor demanded. It had been well over 24 hours since Colleen had drank, eaten or used the bathroom. The man guided her to a plastic chair with a bedpan under it, the type used in hospitals. When she finished using it, Colleen asked, When will I get to go home?
Yet again, he replied, "Soon." Colleen's gag was removed as she was offered her first meal since her ordeal began: a plate of cooked potatoes and a glass of water. After she ate, she was strapped back up to the ceiling and left to dangle. Colleen accepted there was no use trying to fight and instead focused on enduring the pain. After a short while, she was let down and made to lie on the rack while wearing the head box.
She was left in complete isolation. 23 excruciating hours passed. Moaning from pain and discomfort, Colleen finally felt the head box unlatch. It was the woman this time. "I'm cold," Colleen said. The woman laid a blanket over her naked body. Colleen was baffled by this act of kindness, but eventually fell asleep. She was later woken by the man who released her and took her to the bedpan.
He then offered her two egg salad sandwiches and a glass of water. Colleen was desperately thirsty after spending the day in the stuffy head box, but had lost her appetite entirely. She thanked the man while telling him, "I'm not very hungry." Angered, he snatched the sandwiches away and scolded Colleen for being ungrateful.
He strapped her back up to the ceiling with all of the gags and restraints in place, then whipped Colleen in what felt like an act of vengeance. Eventually, she passed out from the unbearable pain. When she regained consciousness, the icebox was pushed underneath her. Colleen didn't have the strength to pull herself onto it, and the mere effort caused her to black out again. When she came to this time, the icebox was gone.
She began yelling for help and begging for mercy. The man told her to shut up and relax, reiterating that it would be over soon. After another torture session, he asked sarcastically, "Now are you going to eat your sandwich?" Colleen forced the food down. Then she was locked to the rack with the head box on. Colleen determined there was just one key to survival: obey.
Colleen soon found herself in an ongoing routine. For 23 hours a day, she was chained naked to the rack while wearing the head box. In the remaining hour, she was released to use the bedpan, drink a glass of water, and eat a basic meal, which was usually a sandwich or leftovers. Then she was forced to endure another round of sadistic punishment, which her captor would photograph.
Days into Colleen's captivity, the woman came down to the basement again. She told Colleen, "I want you to know you are here to take the pain from me, but don't worry, there won't be any sex." She asked Colleen what she would do if she was released. With a hint of sarcasm, Colleen replied, "I'd go to the police and tell them I'd been kidnapped." "Stupid," said the woman.
She then latched the head box shut again, leaving Colleen to agonize over the thought that she'd just missed a chance to escape by not choosing her answer more carefully. A week into her captivity, Colleen heard the sound of someone sawing wood and hammering nails in the basement. The noise filled her with anxiety, as she knew whatever was being built was likely something to enhance her misery.
Days later, Colleen ate her one and only meal before a single chain was wrapped around her neck and secured with a large padlock. The remainder of the chain went down the length of her body and was secured around her ankles with a second padlock. "Step in," the man commanded. Colleen was forced into another box, this one coffin-like in design and shape. It was made of particleboard which itched and left splinters in Colleen's skin.
The box was fitted into a second, larger box which provided additional soundproofing. Colleen no longer had to wear the carpeted head box all the time, but the effect was the same. She was ordered to lie down before a lid was placed on top and padlocked shut, completely sealing her inside. The man had the foresight to include an air hole, but this only filtered in the basement's sickly, moldy odor.
Colleen's life returned to the same miserable routine: day-long stretches of isolation only to be released for whipping. Her captor's weapons of choice varied from single long pieces of leather to whips with multiple strips that struck her all over with a single blow. Based on the warm temperature throughout the day, Colleen concluded that the man visited her in the early evening when it was cooler.
She had no way of keeping track of the days and soon lost count altogether. As the temperature started to drop, Colleen figured summer had given way to autumn. It had been spring when she left Oregon. She'd been imprisoned for months. Escape seemed impossible. Colleen was kept blindfolded and gagged at all times.
The brief hour with her captor was the only time she was moved between restraints, but he was 10 inches taller, full of rage, and not someone Colleen could easily fight in her weakened state. Even if she managed to get to the basement door, she knew it was likely locked. On the off chance that it was open, she still had no idea where she was. What if she was in the middle of nowhere with no one else around for miles?
What if there was a vicious dog or a tall fence she couldn't climb? The thought of giving up crossed Colleen's mind many times, but she didn't have the means. She maintained hope, but lived in constant fear that at any moment she could be killed by her captor. With little else to do, she focused on survival. Understanding her captor might be the key. She contemplated his motives and wondered what strategies she could use to keep him calm.
Most importantly, how could she make him see her as a person? Over time, Colleen adapted her behavior to control her circumstances as best she could. She learned that begging, pleading, crying, fighting, or struggling only aroused her captor and fueled his sadistic rage. This in turn prolonged her torture. So Colleen trained herself to suppress all physical and emotional reactions.
This dissipated her captor's desire as he had no fun beating a limp body. Preventing him from seeing her as weak and vulnerable also gave Colleen a sense of power. The only time she permitted herself to cry was when she was alone in the box. The man rarely spoke except to bark orders like "stand up", "give me your wrists" or "turn around". Colleen learned the hard way that she had to keep quiet too.
Once, when she desperately needed to use the bedpan, Colleen rattled her chains and yelled for attention. The man rushed down into the basement, pulled Colleen out of the box, and immediately strung her up the ceiling. He violently whipped her back and remarked, "This is for making so much noise." From then on, she stayed silent. Colleen's captor was inspired by images of bondage he found in pornographic magazines.
He used Colleen as a model to copy the ones he liked, constantly moving her between the box, the rack, and hanging her from the ceiling. Sometimes Colleen would be hung upside down by the ankles. Other times she was choked until she blacked out. The smaller head box was applied often. During one particularly harrowing ordeal, Colleen soiled herself. Furious, the man rubbed Colleen's nose in her own waist.
Sometimes, when Colleen was lying in the box, she could hear the man and woman having sex on top of it. Every once in a while, Colleen's captors provided her with an unexpected gift. The woman once brought her a cold glass of lemonade, and she was occasionally fed something special like pancakes, french toast, or jelly. Months into her captivity, Colleen was finally given a toothbrush to clean her teeth.
These random acts of kindness were rare and done without explanation. Colleen placated the couple in the hopes of increasing her privileges. Yet, she never found a way to diminish or prevent the assaults. The stress took a toll on Colleen's body and she stopped menstruating. Then, one day, while she was in the box, her period suddenly returned. Colleen's captor was furious.
He handcuffed her and led her up the basement stairs into a bathroom. To Colleen's surprise, for the first time since her ordeal began, she was permitted to take a bath. Her blindfold and gags were kept in place, but her handcuffs were removed so she could wash herself. The woman attempted to brush, wash, and condition Colleen's matted and filthy hair, but nothing could untangle the knots. Not even cooking oil.
Eventually, the woman took a pair of scissors and hacked Colleen's beloved waist-length locks to shoulder height. The mutilation left Colleen broken-hearted. After her bath, Colleen's hands and feet were hog-tied behind her back. For two hours, her head was dunked in and out of the water. Whenever Colleen felt on the brink of death, the man would pull her out by the hair so she could grab one desperate breath before her head was submerged again.
All the while, Colleen saw the familiar flash of a camera. With her lungs burning, Colleen was eventually taken back into the basement, secured face down on the rack, and assaulted. Colleen was then sealed in the box for another day. Colleen thought about all the small everyday freedoms that others were taking for granted. Breakfast, clothes, shopping, television.
She kept her mind busy by reflecting on fond memories, planning Thanksgiving dinners for when she was reunited with her family, and fantasizing about a future with a beautiful home and a child of her own. But her thoughts could only stretch so far, and eventually she reached a mental blank. Time slowed, with every minute feeling like an hour as days slipped away.
When Colleen finally drifted off to sleep, she was plagued by nightmares. When awake, Colleen was gripped by loneliness. She tried to fill the void by speaking to God. Colleen's childhood had involved going to church, though she wasn't strongly religious. But now, Colleen felt God was the only one who could hear her.
Prayer somewhat lessened the feeling of isolation and allowed Colleen to feel connected to her loved ones, whom she knew would be praying for her. It also provided positive affirmations in the midst of her nightmares. Colleen once had a vision that her box was opened by angels who reassured her that everything would be alright. In another, Colleen shared some regrets with her deceased grandfather, who stroked her hair and said, "It's alright, Colleen."
These visions provided her with the warmth and security she was longing for. Months continued to pass with Colleen still restrained and blindfolded. She was unable to scratch herself or stretch her aching limbs. The house above the basement felt a hundred miles away, and the world beyond that was like an entirely different planet. Her captors shared no information or news.
Coupled with the total sensory deprivation, Colleen was mentally starving. Yet, once a month, Colleen was allowed to take a bath. She eventually earned the right to bathe alone. Despite this, she still couldn't entertain the thought of escaping. The lack of certainty was just too much. If her attempt failed, what punishment would she have to endure then? The woman had once warned Colleen:
If you walk out the back door, you might as well put a shotgun to your head and pull the trigger." Although death offered an escape, Colleen was overcome by a will to live. The woman rarely spoke to Colleen and mostly stayed out of the basement. But she did occasionally participate in the abuse by biting, whipping, and poking Colleen with sharp objects. Colleen once heard the man refer to the woman as "Jan".
She knew never to reveal this, as having such information could prove fatal. Colleen wondered if Jan participated in the abuse because she wanted to, or because the man forced her. The possibility that Jan could also be a victim was yet another unanswered question that occupied her mind. One day, a blindfolded Colleen was ordered to sit on the concrete floor in the centre of the basement.
Her ankle chains were secured to something to prevent her from moving around. The man then directed Colleen's hands until they came into contact with a piece of wood. He handed her some sandpaper and demanded that she sand the wood all night until its surface was smooth. "Any questions?" he asked. She shook her head. A new box was then latched onto Colleen's head.
This one was at least 10 pounds heavier than the previous one, and Colleen couldn't hold her head up. The man had anticipated this. He'd rectified it by attaching strings to the box which were then looped over a pipe on the ceiling and connected to several containers of water that hung as a counterbalance. Although awkward and unpleasant, it enabled Colleen to get the project done over several nights.
Later, as she lay in the coffin-like box, Colleen heard some construction work taking place in the basement. It continued every night for several weeks, leaving Colleen to wonder what fresh horrors laid in store. One night, the man led Colleen to his new creation: a small concrete room under the timber stairs lit by a single light bulb. There, he restrained Colleen to a chair. Then he left.
From behind the door, the man instructed Colleen to remove her blindfold. It was the first time she'd taken it off in six months. Blinding white light immediately burned her eyes. As her vision adjusted, she saw a burlap sack full of walnuts lying at her feet. The man said, "When I come back tomorrow morning, I expect each walnut to be shelled and placed in the empty bowl." From that point on, a new routine emerged.
Colleen still spent her days trapped in the box and was released in the evenings to eat, use the bedpan, and endure yet another torture session. But she was then locked overnight in the makeshift workshop to complete an array of tasks, from shelling nuts to crochet and macrame projects. Each morning, before being returned to the box, she was ordered to reapply her blindfold so she wouldn't see her captor's face.
Colleen ascertained that she was making items for her captors to sell. Although still miserable, she was grateful to have something to keep her occupied. But this new routine wasn't always guaranteed. Sometimes the man would leave Colleen in the workshop all day without explanation. Other times she'd be left in the box overnight without being put to work at all.
It was as though her captors were intentionally making her life unpredictable to reinforce their control. The onset of winter marked the seventh month of Collaine's captivity, although she still had no concept of the date or time. She'd lost a significant amount of weight, and as she remained completely naked, the cold was unbearable.
In one of their rare acts of compassion, her captors gave her a jacket and nightgown, the first items of clothing Colleen had worn since entering the basement. A further drop in temperature indicated Christmas was approaching, but the day itself came and went without anything to mark the occasion. The same went for Colleen's 21st birthday which fell on December 31 and then New Year's Day.
As 1978 commenced, the isolation Colleen felt was profound. But on Wednesday January 25, something unexpected happened. Colleen was in the workshop busy with her latest project when suddenly the particle board door swung open. With no warning to put her blindfold back on, Colleen saw her captors for the first time since the day of her abduction.
When she locked eyes with the man, she felt it was like looking into the eyes of the devil. A smirk appeared on his face as Jan stood behind him. Colleen was frozen in shock and fear. The couple handed Colleen a piece of paper and a pen and told her to practice writing her name. Unsure where this was leading, Colleen did as she was told.
As she repeatedly began scrolling the words Colleen Stan, the man told her, they know you're here. Casefile will be back shortly. Thank you for supporting us by listening to this episode's sponsors. Thank you for listening to this episode's ads. By supporting our sponsors, you support Casefile to continue to deliver quality content. Colleen's mind raced as a glimmer of hope ignited within.
Who were they? The police? Her family? The man then said that someone from the company was waiting upstairs, adding, "We can't keep the man waiting." Colleen's hope was promptly extinguished. Her captor explained that the company had discovered Colleen was being held captive. The couple were being forced to pay a $1600 fee and had to register Colleen immediately to make her legal.
Before Colleen could make any sense of what he was saying, he handed her a copy of a newspaper titled Inside News, which was dated Sunday January 1 1978. Colleen's attention was drawn to an article with the headline, They sell themselves body and soul when they sign the slave contract. The article began,
Just out of sight of the general public, young beautiful women are being abducted and sold into slavery in San Francisco to wealthy and powerful men. The company, a vast underground syndicate, administers the contracts and controls the market. According to the article, once the transactions were sealed with a contract, the women legally became the property of the masters who bought them.
They were given a slave name and made to permanently wear a collar to identify their position. Any woman who resisted was sent to the company's remedial training facility in San Francisco, a place known as Renta Dungeon. The company also had headquarters in Sacramento. Colleen began to shake. She never knew such a business existed and couldn't believe what she was reading.
The article explained how a fair market value was determined for each slave and how the purchasing process worked. It even featured a sample of one of the legally binding slave contracts. Colleen's captor handed her a piece of paper which he ordered her to read and sign. Then he reiterated, "'We can't keep the company man waiting.'"
Typewritten on a high-quality piece of paper with an ornate heading printed at the top and an official-looking seal at the bottom, the contract opened with the words, "'This indenture made the 25th day of January in the year of our Lord 1978 between Colleen Stan, hereafter known as Slave, and Michael Powers, hereafter known as Master.'
It continued by detailing how Colleen, referred to as "slave", would humbly submit the entirety of herself to her master. Her body, her will, and her soul would all belong to him. There were four specific points that Colleen had to promise to: Quote: "One.
she shall immediately diligently and enthusiastically comply with and submit her full being to any and all directions or desires of master or his assigns which he or they may express by word signal action or any other means
2. She shall at all times afford Master absolute respect, shall address him only as "Sir" or "Master", shall station herself in a physical position subordinate to his whenever possible, and shall speak to or otherwise distract him only when granted his permission. 3. She shall constantly maintain her female body parts in such circumstances as will demonstrate and ensure that they are fully open to him.
4.
"She shall preserve her female body parts for the exclusive use of him and his assigns, which use shall be the sole source of his pleasures, and she shall engage in no self-gratification or any physical contact with any other." The contractor noted that Colleen had become sullied by her interactions with others prior to coming into her master's possession.
She was required to confess to this and request that the master free her from any bad habits via "retraining with corporal punishment." The contract concluded with the words: "In witness whereof, slave has hereunto set her hand, and master has designed to seal these presents, by permanently affixing his collar about her neck, on the date first above written."
signed by slave, whose collar was sealed and who was delivered unto master on the date above mentioned, in the presence of: Forever Slave Colleen Stan Master Michael Powers Witness Janet Powers Colleen burst into tears. She could no longer maintain her stoicism, exclaiming: "This is the work of Satan." Michael angrily demanded that Colleen just sign the contract.
She asked, "What if I don't?" Through gritted teeth he responded, "I will make you wish you had." Colleen tried to calm down, but she explained that she couldn't sign away her soul as that belonged to God. "Alright," Michael agreed, "Now sign." Next to the words "Forever Slave," Colleen Stant shakily tried to distort her signature in a desperate attempt to make it clear she'd been forced to sign against her will.
Both Michael and Janet then signed the document. While Janet took the contract upstairs, Michael told Colleen: "Let me tell you about my wife. He explained that Janet was once a slave too. She'd escaped her previous owner and flagged down a police officer, not realizing that he too was a member of the company. She was taken to Rent-A-Dungeon for remedial training, where she was brutally punished as an example to other slaves.
A cross was then placed around her neck. This signified that for $10,000, Janet could be purchased for the purpose of being tortured to death. Michael explained that over the years he'd earned thousands of dollars of credit by helping the company track down runaway slaves. When he saw Janet's cross, he felt sorry for her. He used his credit to buy Janet and take her home.
Michael told Colleen that the company was a secret organisation run by powerful men who enslaved, trained, transported and sold women. While the group was completely unknown to the average citizen, it had grown into a powerful, influential and financial empire. Members were powerful and wealthy individuals, including politicians, judges, doctors and members of law enforcement.
Michael explained that for an annual fee of $1,600, the company provided him with 24-hour home security, including monitoring his house and telephone line. If Colleen tried to escape, the company would stop at nothing to find her, even harming her family if they had to. Colleen would then spend five days being violently punished by the company. If she survived, she'd be resold to the highest bidder.
Michael already knew of at least one dangerous man who was eager to buy Colleen. Colleen was told that her contract was permanent and unbreakable. Every so often, her obedience would be tested with a special punishment. According to Michael, he had no control over the company's demands. All he knew was that Colleen would remain his slave for life.
Michael laid out the new rules for Colleen. As his slave, she must address him as master or sir, and his wife as ma'am. She must only speak when spoken to or when absolutely necessary. When doing so, she had to kneel down, keep her arms at her sides, and her eyes focused on the floor. Colleen was forbidden from crossing her legs or wearing clothing unless permitted to do so. Michael told her...
The girl previously known as Colleen Stan is gone. Colleen would henceforth be known by her slave name, Kay. A metal collar adorned with a gold leaf was locked around her neck. Michael asked Colleen if she understood. Colleen replied, "Yes, master." Weeks later, Colleen was handed a laminated card featuring the company's official seal.
This was proof of her official registration as a slave for life and was put on display above the workshop door. Michael continued filling Colleen's head with horrifying stories about what happened to slaves who escaped. One slave's mother was tortured for information. When the slave was eventually found, her arms and legs were surgically removed without anesthesia, her tongue was cut out, and her eyes were soldered shut.
She was then hung by the hair from a hook above her master's bed and kept alive until she eventually died after a year of suffering. Another captured slave was put alive into a glass box that was filled with the toxic preservative formaldehyde. This gradually turned her remains into what Michael described as a human pickle. Her body, along with those of other slaves who tried to escape, were on display in the company's museum.
Colleen struggled to comprehend what she was hearing. Perhaps in any other circumstances she would have been skeptical of Michael's assertions. But after enduring months of being physically, emotionally, mentally, and spiritually degraded, Colleen was incredibly vulnerable. Although her mind lingered with doubt, she was plagued by nightmares of what could happen to her or her family if the company was indeed real and Colleen crossed them.
Michael's stories caused Colleen to fear the company even more than her two captors. Yet, her registration as a slave did lead to one major and welcomed change. For short periods at a time, Colleen was allowed to go upstairs into the house and do chores. Whenever this happened, the doors were kept locked and window shades drawn.
Janet didn't want a naked woman moving around the house, so Colleen was allowed to wear a nightgown. Her blindfold and gag were also removed, but she was ordered to keep her eyes cast downward and only speak if spoken to. Once her chores were complete, Colleen had to kneel before her captors and ask, "'Is there anything else you wish for me to do?'
If not, she was returned to the basement where she was either placed back in her box or ushered into the workshop for more craft projects. Meanwhile, her torture continued. Michael and Janet's house was quaint but cluttered. A kitchen led to a small dining space where an arched doorway then opened to a living room.
Whenever Michael yelled at tension, Colleen had to strip naked and stand under the arch on her tiptoes with her hands stretched toward above her. If Michael was unsatisfied with Colleen's work in any way, she was repeatedly whipped. She had to stay in this position until he called out, "At ease." During her lashings, Michael sometimes asked Colleen questions about her past life, such as whether she was a college student,
If Colleen answered honestly with "yes", she'd be struck again. Further into the house was the bathroom. There was also a small bedroom occupied by her captor's young daughter, who had only been a baby when Colleen was abducted. By the time Colleen saw her again, she was a toddler, walking but not talking. Inside Michael and Janet's bedroom was a waterbed on a large pedestal.
In their closet, a wooden panel could be removed from the floor, allowing a direct view into the basement below. Once, while she cleaned the house, Colleen came across a letter. It was addressed to Cameron and Janice Hooker. That was the moment Colleen realised that she'd been misled by her captors with fake names. It also included their address: 1140 Oak Street in Red Bluff, California.
One February evening, Colleen was led upstairs and onto the couple's waterbed. Cameron and Janice lay on either side of her and began kissing. Up until this point, Colleen had endured varying degrees of sexual assault but had never been forced to have intercourse. That all changed that night. As Cameron began raping Colleen, Janice fled the room. Colleen could hear her crying and vomiting. Cameron stopped the assault and went to check on her.
After that, Colleen was returned to her box in the basement. Although she was relieved that the rape was short-lived, Colleen knew it wasn't over. From that point on, Janice Hooker treated Colleen with increased cruelty. Based on Cameron's story about Janice being a former slave, Colleen had viewed her as another victim of the company.
Yet, instead of being an ally, Colleen realised that Janice saw her as a threat to her relationship with Cameron. Immense anger and hatred for Janice began to bubble away inside of Colleen. Months later in April, a blindfolded, handcuffed Colleen was once again led upstairs. But she wasn't taken into the bedroom. Instead, for the first time in almost a year, she was met with the cool, fresh air of night
Colleen's mind flooded with questions, but she knew better than to speak. Her captors led her to the front seat of a pickup truck where she was made to lay her head on Janice's lap. Then Cameron started driving. They'd only been on the road for about 15 minutes when the car stopped. Colleen was let out of the truck and into a mobile home. Once inside, her blindfold and restraints were removed.
The space was unfamiliar, but she recognized the hooker's waterbed. With its black vinyl frame and steps that led up from the pedestal, she'd know it anywhere. Two panels had been removed from the foot of the bed, revealing the dark space inside the pedestal that the mattress sat on. "Get in," Cameron ordered. Colleen lay on her stomach and worked her way into the narrow space under the bed. It was just longer than the length of her body.
She managed to turn herself onto her back. There was just two inches of space on either side of her, and if she bent her elbows, her fingertips touched the top of the box. A bedpan was already inside, but there was barely enough space for her to roll over or maneuver it under her. To the left of Colleen's head, a small air hole had been drilled into the floor of the mobile home, with another at her feet.
This allowed a little air to filter in through a hose. The box was insulated by the frame of the waterbed, muffling any sounds that came in or out. Within moments of crawling inside, Colleen's captors pushed the stairs back up against the base of the pedestal, locking her in and hiding the panel that led to her new prison. If the box in the basement had felt like a coffin, then this one felt like a tomb.
Once again, Colleen was kept in the box for 23 hours a day, alone with her thoughts and prayers. With minimal ventilation, she had to be mindful about when to use the bedpan as the stench could be unbearable. Every evening, she was allowed to shimmy out to empty it, eat a basic meal, and drink some water. Like before, this was then followed by a torture session.
Although Colleen no longer had the workshop to keep her busy and provide some respite, the Hookers sometimes allowed her to complete chores around the trailer. It was 64 feet long and 12 feet wide, with a combination living, dining, and kitchen space. There were two bedrooms, the main one where Colleen was kept and another down the narrow hallway that belonged to the Hooker's young daughter.
Colleen could sometimes hear the sound of large trucks in the distance, leading her to conclude she was likely on the outskirts of town, not far from a highway. In the summer, Colleen was granted a pair of shorts, a singlet and some used tennis shoes. And for the first time, Cameron allowed her to go outside. Colleen relished the feel of the sun on her pale skin as she took in the unfamiliar surroundings.
The trailer was parked at the end of a gravel road, one of several that dotted the surrounding remote landscape. The closest trailer sat around 200 feet to the east, with a highway 150 yards to the west. Cameron escorted Colleen behind the trailer. There she saw an open trench made to facilitate utility connections to the home. Cameron handed Colleen a shovel and ordered that she fill it with dirt. He also got to work as well.
The two worked side by side all day, but this wasn't the taste of freedom Colleen had desperately longed for. Being kept in a near immobile state had drained her body of strength and her limbs ached from the laborious task. The California sun also burnt her delicate skin, bringing more pain. Yet Colleen soldiered on without complaint. Then, out of nowhere, a mysterious man approached.
To be continued next week.