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A Mysterious 911 Call Reappeared[]

“Mitchell, this could be what could get you out of here,” Officer Yvette Cambell pleaded, “why would you turn down the chance to have your name cleared?”

Former Officer Paul Mitchell hung his head low. He could not believe this could be his chance at freedom, but at the cost of having to experience the incident all over again?

“I couldn’t. I can’t,” he muttered, “this isn’t really happening.”

“You’ve been a dispatcher for how many years now, and THIS is what breaks you? I’ve seen you in action. As a matter of fact, you were the one in charge of training me in dispatcher duty,” she took him by the shoulder, “I can’t bear to see you like this, Mitchell…”

It was found that the missing recording of the 911 phone call had seemingly materialized yesterday after an entire year. It’s disappearance pointed towards Former Dispatcher Officer Mitchell of tampering with evidence.

“All we need you to do is to listen to the tapes and write out the transcripts. That’s it. You can walk out of here, free of all charges.”

“Why can’t you do it?” he snapped, “if that’s all, why do you need me?”

Officer Cambell paused, mulling over what to say next. If she were to tell him what they had heard, it would only dissuade him even more.

“There were two calls that day, right?” she began, “the one from the younger brother…”

“Matt,” he interjected.

“Matthew Allen, that’s right. We’ve had that call all along. But the other one… we just need you to take a listen and clarify some of the details.”

Not much could shake the weathered former police officer, but one call of the abduction of two boys was enough to completely upheave his life. He could recall it as if it had happened the day prior at the precinct of Flagstaff, Arizona. He was the only dispatcher on duty during the graveyard shift.

“911, what’s your emergency?”

On the other end of the line, what sounded like a young child breathing heavily could be heard.

“Do you have an emergency?” Officer Mitchell reiterated.

Nothing but shuffling and breathing. Perhaps it was a kid who had gotten a hold of their parent’s phone and called by mistake.

“I’m going to ask one more time, is there an emergency?”

A sharp, clear whisper broke through the speaker, “Help me.”

In the background, another voice could be heard in an inquisitive tone.

“No…” the child replied before abruptly hanging up.

Mitchell had experienced similar situations before. But unlike his younger colleagues, he treated every call, whether it may have been a mistake or not, as an emergency out of precaution. He began trying to trace the call’s location to report to on-duty officers only to find that the same number was calling again.

“911 what’s your emergency?”

A deeper voice was on the line this time, “They…beat me up,” the voice said weakly.

“Okay, I ask that you don’t hang up.” Mitchell began, “Can you give me your address?”

“I don’t…know where we are…” said the voice.

“Can you tell me your name?”

“Lucas.”

“Okay Lucas…”

“I’m here with…my brother Matt. We need an ambulance…please…”

“Please stay on the line. So you’re with your brother Matt,” the dispatcher tried to piece together the details to request more information, “and what’s your last name?”

“Allen,” he gasped, “Please hurry…”

“Allen? A-L-L-E-N?”

“Yes.”

In reality, Mitchell needed to keep him talking in case he was at risk of going unconscious. In the meantime, he was desperately trying to trace the source of the call through the phone’s carrier company and already notified Arizona police and the fire department. Of course, the tracking could end up being miles off from Lucas’ actual location, but it was a start. It would take some time so long as the call could continue.

“Please hurry,” Lucas whined, “I don’t know what they’re doing to my brother!”

“Who?” the officer interrogated.

Sounds of shuffling followed by a little boy sobbing was heard in the background.

“Can you tell me who’s there?” Mitchell repeated.

Nothing but silence could be heard. The dispatcher lowered his tone, “If you can’t speak, press a number on the dial.”

Beep.

So he can’t speak right now. Mitchell pondered to himself. But I need to get clues on where he’s located. If someone is putting the two in danger, then his safety needs to come first, so I’ll have to be patient. In the meantime, I’ll get some officers on standby.

The shuffling and the younger brother’s cry faded, and Lucas was able to continue.

“How many of them are there?” the dispatcher asked.

On the other end of the line, Lucas can be heard quietly moaning.

“Don’t hurt him…” he sobbed, “please don’t hurt Matt…”

“Lucas I need you to be calm,” the dispatcher tried to manage his composure, “I need you to work with me if you want to help your brother. How many of them are there?”

“There’s four of them I think.”

“How many men and women?”

“Three guys and one girl.”

“How did you get there?”

“There was a minivan on the corner on Fourth and Fifth Street. I was with Matt at the laundromat and the guys… started grabbing me,” Lucas’ breathing became more labored as he continued, “I tried to fight them… but there were… too many of them. They beat Matt when he started screaming and… they threw us into the trunk.”

A minivan. Mitchell concluded. This could be a good lead. “Can you tell me the model and make of the minivan?”

“It was a grey minivan.”

“What about the building you’re in. Is it a house? An apartment maybe?”

“We’re in some kind of house I think.” Lucas started gasping in pain, “They…took something…”

“What did they take?”

“Out of my stomach… Im bleeding all over…hurry…I don’t want them to do the same thing to Matt.”

Out of his…stomach? Why would they…? Oh God. A pit formed in the dispatcher’s chest and he began to feel queezy. They were kidnapped by organ traffickers.

Lucas began to sob, “Matt…”

Officer Mitchell maintained his composure as he had been trained and tried to calm the boy down to fish for more clues. So far, it seems that Lucas is unable to move and doesn’t know where he is in the house. Him and two other girls who could be heard in the background were being kept somewhere extremely dark. Not only had the boys been kidnapped, they had been transported across state lines.

Mitchell had called for a priority-one case and an aircraft to be on the lookout for gray minivans outside of any residences. Officer Lloyd Sanchez came into the precinct to aid with the call, but after putting on his headset, he tossed them off in frustration.

“Damn thing’s broken,” he complained.

Finally, the request put through to the cell-phone provider had been cleared as a result of being priority-one, and the call had been triangulated in the neighboring town of Sedona. Officers swarmed the area. Fortunately, the small town didn’t have many residences, but one house in particular had a grey minivan outside and matched the description Lucas had given.

“Stay on the line with me,” Officer Mitchell sighed in an almost relieved tone, “we have officers outside the residence.”

There was no reply.

“Lucas? Lucas are you there?”

Beep.

Outside the residence on Drummond Road, two officers approached a man and a woman on the porch enjoying a smoke. With a warrant in hand, the couple had to comply to the search.

The inside seemed unassuming and modest. It was definitely not a perminemnt home to anyone since there were no personal items around, but there were two other men who had been living there just as the 911 call had confirmed.

At first, there didn’t seem to be anything until the officers went into the attic. Scanning the musty area with their flashlights, they called out to ask if anyone was there.

“We found a woman up here,” Officer Yvette Campbell reported from the scene, “She’s in critical condition, we need an ambulance.”

“What about the boys?” the Flagstaff dispatcher interrogated, “There are two boys in there.”

Muffled noises came from the officer’s speaker. The hostage was trying to make a noise but seemed unable to speak. It was later confirmed that her jaw had been broken.

“Ma’am, what are you doing? She’s fighting me!” Campbell called for her partner as the woman groaned louder and louder.

“She’s reaching for…no, she’s pointing. There’s someone over there…” she reported, “it’s…a little boy!”

“That must be Matthew Allen!” Mitchell shouted.

“Hey… are you Matt?” Campbell asked. After a few moments of silence she announced, “he says that he is!”

A grin crawled across the dispatcher’s face, “And what about his brother? There should be a young man in there…”

She scanned the attic with her flashlight, “I don’t see anyone else up here.”

“Keep searching. There are other hostages and they have to be there somewhere,” the officer switched the line to the 911 call, “Lucas, are you still there?”

Nothing but static and the searching police could be heard in the background.

“If you can see the officers, I need you to go to them.”

Again, there was no reply until, “Arizona Police, is there anyone in here?”

Officer Mitchell could hear the rescuers getting closer to the phone, “Lucas, I need you to make a noise or something…get their attention somehow.”

“Hello?” came an unfamiliar voice from the emergency line, “who is this?”

Confused, Mitchell announced “this is 911, who am I speaking with?”

“Arizona Police. There was a cell phone on the floor of the walk-in closet.”

“I was just speaking with the caller, where is he?” the dispatcher asked bewildered.

“Definitely not here,” the officer replied.

“He has to be somewhere in there! Lucas is the one who made the call!”

After an hour, the entire residence had been ransacked. The basement, under the stairs, and even the attic were searched again and again. Inside the shed were bloody tools, but no hostages.

When the on-site officers gave the code for all-clear, Officer Mitchell’s heart sank. “What do you mean?” he insisted, “A young man and at least one other female hostage is somewhere on the premises. You can’t call off the search.”

After some more back-and-forth with the head police, Officer Campbell called out from behind the building having found something. The sun had barely began to rise, illuminating a window from beneath the house where a crawlspace that remained unexplored. The glass was broken and a terrifying stench rose from beneath which some of the officers had known too well.

There, three corpses were found. Two young girls and a teenaged boy who had been identified as the caller. They were disemboweled with critical organs missing and the remains were dumped into the crawlspace. According to the autopsy, Lucas had died three days prior to the search. There was a witness testimony by Matthew where he revealed that he had been held in the walk-in closet in the bedroom where he had gotten a hold of one of the captor’s phones and dialed 911. During the criminal interrogation, the captors disclosed that Matt was too young to harvest organs from, so he was the only one spared. Matt had almost been caught calling 911 the first time, but he called again and hid the phone on the lowest shelf next to the closet door the second time.

“But that’s impossible!” Mitchell shouted, “I talked to Lucas during the second call! There is absolutely no chance that he was dead at the time! Even the two girls could be heard in the background. I’ll prove it…”

On the precinct computer, he scrambled for the recording. The first call with Matthew was brief, but it was the second call with Lucas he needed. However, there was no second call on file for the date of the search. The head of the precinct searched the entire database yielding nothing. As a result, Former Officer Paul Mitchell was arrested for seeming to have been tampering with evidence.

But now, after an entire year, the call had somehow resurfaced.

“Alright,” Mitchell caved, “I’ll only listen once and explain as much as you need.”

Officer Cambell along with another member of the prison staff drove Mitchell to the precinct in Flagstaff, Arizona. He was ushered to one of the office monitors to find not one, but multiple copies of the recording prominently sitting on the desktop. It appeared that Cambell didn’t want to risk the call going missing again. Mitchell replaced the headset as he had for years, pulled up a text document to write the transcript, and double-clicked the audio file. “911, what’s your emergency?”

A faint voice broke through the static, “Thank you Mitchell.”

His face became pale as a sheet at the familiar sound.

“Okay, I ask that you don’t hang up the phone. Can you give me your address?”

“Thank you Mitchell. Thank you Mitchell…” Lucas’ voice replied on what sounded like an automated loop, “Thank you Mitchell. Thank you..thank you…thankyou…thankyou…”

Lucas’ voice began to pick up speed, “thankyou,thankyou,thankyou,thank,thank,thank,thank,thank,th-,th-,th-,th-,th-”

Mitchell tore off the headset and flung himself out of the chair.

Officer Yvette scrambled to his side, “Officer Mitchell, what’s wrong?” This entire year, she had been the only one on the hunt for the missing file to clear her mentor’s name. Although her exhaustive search long had been in vain, it had strangely reappeared in the general records the day before as if it had never been touched. What she had been reluctant to tell him was that other than the dispatcher’s voice in the recording, no one in the precinct could make out a single sound but a thick dense static.

Mitchell couldn’t continue listening. However, by virtue of the existence of the record, he was cleared of all charges and compensated for wrongful imprisonment. Just as suddenly as it had appeared, every documented instance of that 911 call had vanished afterward completely unnoticed.

The case of the Allen brothers was never brought up again.

fin.




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Eerie the Ghost (talk) 21:43, 20 October 2022 (UTC)[]

Thank you for reading my creepypasta. This is the first one I've ever made, so any feedback would be greatly appreciated!


Macciata (talk) 03:31, 12 November 2022 (UTC)[]

Not a bad seed for a story, and for a first-time contribution it's well above par. There are a number of grammar and punctuation errors, but I won't go line-by-line on that right now. More important are some issues with the story itself.

  • But unlike his younger colleagues, he treated every call, whether it may have been a mistake or not, as an emergency out of precaution.

If you're implying that his younger colleagues dismiss calls like this, they wouldn't remain his colleagues for long. Police ignoring emergency calls because they think it's a joke or get disconnected is an artifact of horror writers who need to prevent the protagonists from getting help. All 911 calls are taken seriously by regulation, and definitely get attention if "Help me" is among what little the officer could hear.

This doesn't affect the story much, and can be fixed by rewriting or deleting this one sentence.

  • A charge of evidence tampering probably wouldn't stick. The prosecution would need to show evidence that Mitchell erased the file and covered the deletion from all system records, evidence which would be difficult to find because he didn't.
  • The charge wouldn't be brought at all, because only Mitchell's own word suggests there ever was a second call. Sanchez, the sole witness, could only testify that he saw Mitchell talking into the phone; he wasn't there when the call began, so couldn't assert that the phone ever rang, and when he tried to listen in he heard nothing. This rather implies that Mitchell was talking into an empty line to fool Sanchez, which raises many troubling suspicions, but not of evidence tampering specifically.
  • If we ignore those two points, the sudden return of the recording would do nothing to clear Mitchell's name, and I'm honestly not sure why you think it would. Recovery of the file doesn't mean Mitchell never erased it, unless it came back along with a bundle of clear, hard evidence that someone else was responsible. Moreover, from the perspective of people in the story, what was recovered has clearly been modified, dubbing static over the interstices between Mitchell's speech. The strong implication is that the static is there to cover something worth great effort to conceal, which only makes Mitchell look more suspicious.
  • If we ignore that point, new exonerating evidence would either a) potentially be reason to drop charges, if he is being held pending trial (which is unlikely to have been for a full year, as an officer with a long, clean record of service would have little trouble getting released on bail), in which case he would be free to go. Or b) he's been tried and convicted, in which case an appeal process would be needed before he was freed. In neither case would his release be contingent on listening to the recording in some room with just one former colleague present.
  • If we ignore all that, there's no purpose in having Mitchell listen to the recording, and absolutely, emphatically no reason to ask him to 'transcribe' it -- because there is no sane basis to suspect he'd be able to hear anything in it that others couldn't. Even if there were, what possible use would his transcript be, if it's impossible to corroborate?

Now, all of this can be fixed, but I'm sorry to say that it will require of you the hardest thing a writer has to face: sometimes, you just have to jettison large chunks of hard work.

The fix I propose is simply to dump the framing. Begin with Mitchell in the dispatch office, where he receives two calls; end when he finds out that the second call came from an impossible source. Jettison the entire aftermath, including the part of it that comes at the very start of the story.

You can keep the "thankyouthankyouthankyou" partin by having it happen over the phone, either right after the revelation that Lucas was dead, or at some unspecified later time when Mitchell is again working graveyard dispatch, or sitting at home. Whatever happened in between -- disappearing and reappearing recording, tampering trials, jail time -- all of that can safely be allowed to drift off into the land of Beyond the Story.

Naturally, this would also call for a new title. "What's Your Emergency?" is the first that comes to mind, but I'm not gonna go to bat too hard for it.

At least, that's my feedback; think on the bits you like, cast from your mind the bits you don't, and do what you feel the story needs. Best wishes!

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