drove a great car / into a nightmare

After watching an episode of "Unsolved Mysteries" with malfunctioning closed-captions

Robert Stack was a hardcore boss. If you’re “of a certain age,” you know of whom I speak. The trench-coated master of the macabre hosted a weekly network television series from 1987 until 2002(!) called Unsolved Mysteries. If you haven’t heard of it, I’ll wait while you binge watch all 406(!) episodes.

I hate to use this over-used word, but everything about the series was iconic. Stack himself may have ‘just’ been the host, but one would swear he’s been out investigating every single missing person, unsolved murder, and UFO sighting explored in the series. I contend that this series is the forebearer of every true crime podcast and streaming documentary produced in the past quarter century from Serial to The Staircase. And who can forget the theme music, which still sets neck hairs on end:

Suffice to say: if it was 7pm on a Wednesday in Lisbon, North Dakota, circa 1989-1991, sans cable TV, you could catch me watching the Stackman. Fast forward 30 years. Unsolved Mysteries is now airing 24/7 on repeat on the Unsolved Mysteries LG channel, which comes FREE with our TV. When Leah goes to bed some nights, I flip the set on to hear Stack’s silvery tones, and get the lowdown on the latest teenage runaways from 1992. Since there haven’t been updates to the cases in over 20 years, for all I know they’re still unsolved!

One night in St Paul, while watching an episode with the volume super low so I don’t wake my fiancée in the next room, I turn on the closed-captioning, and eventually fall asleep on the couch, as is typical. On this night, however, I wake up to find the closed captioning malfunctioning. Since the volume is so low, I can’t really understand what’s happening, but entire phrases get repeated every 30 seconds or so. Clearly something is off with the captioning, but an idea for a poem immediately comes into my mind.

drove a great car
into a nightmare


Upon graduating Beverly Hills High,
Chad earned his living giving tennis lessons.
Bright, independent, and not bad looking
everything changed on that January
morning six years ago
when Chad and our other son, Paul
went to breakfast at a local delicatessen.

In front of the restaurant,
they encountered a street person
apparently blind in one eye
a few minutes later, Chad
apparently blind in one eye
left the table and went back outside
a few minutes later,
they encountered a street person
that was the day Chad met
—what we know now as—Willy
a few weeks after their first meeting
Chad invited this Willy to 
move into his apartment
What started as a gesture of
a Good Samaritan rapidly escalated
into a nightmare

a few weeks after their first meeting
Chad invited this Willy to
our home for dinner
we were surprised
Chad would shelter a street person
apparently blind in one eye
I thought, my God that’s strange
but Chad, that’s the way he is
he would shelter a street person
I could understand it, I really could
until I met Willy
but when I saw Willy and how he talked
I thought, my God that’s strange
and my God that smell...
it was unbelievable.
Wow, it was scary
it really was scary
During the meal, Willy waved his hands
over the food as if he were blessing it

Wow, it was scary
Mature. That's what Chad told me.
He said Willy was helping him 
mature as a person
into a nightmare
No other trace of Chad was found 
Chad was an elite, preppy businessman, 
drove a great car
taught tennis
smelled nice
but then he changed and became
a mystical person 
We just didn't know him anymore.
I thought, my God that's strange, 
drove a great car
the keys were still in the ignition
His involvement with street people increased
after he met Willy
he would shelter a street person
after he met Willy
he started to understand their problems
they shared in strange mystical rites
after he met Willy
but Chad, that's the way he is
I could understand it, I really could
until I met Willy

Paul, that’s our other son, 
Paul had not heard from Chad 
in several days. Concerned, 
he drove to Chad’s apartment
We just didn’t know him anymore
after he met Willy
but Paul tried to get inside, 
and he says to Willy, he says “where’s Chad
I want to speak to my brother” 
but in Willy's strange, strange way 
he would not answer Paul’s questions or
seemed to have a clue who Paul was talking about

A few days later, I 
also went to Chad’s apartment
and of course Willy’s there
and of course Willy
puts his arms around me and
I thought, my God that’s strange
and my God that smell...
a mystical person
taught tennis
and he says to me, he says give us a kiss.
Why are you afraid of me?
Wow, it was scary
So I told him I wanted to know where my son was.
Where is my son?
I'm your son, he told me then,
in his strange, strange way
I'm your son.
I thought, my God that's strange
I'm your son,
why are you afraid of me? 

During the eviction, Willy made no 
effort to avoid the police
Mature. That's what Chad told me.
Willy claimed to have no knowledge 
of Chad's whereabouts.
A month or so after Chad disappeared,
his car was found abandoned 
on a Beverly Hills side street
drove a great car
the keys were still in the ignition, 
police found Chad's ID, credit cards, 
and $500 in cash and cheques
and my God that smell…
No other trace of Chad was found
but Chad, that’s the way he is
I'm your son
apparently blind in one eye
I thought, my God that's strange
I would love to give that Willy 
some Sodium Pentathol 
—get that truth serum in him 
and make him talk. 
He was just so strange,
I'm your son, he told me
and he says to me, he says give us a kiss
I just didn’t know him anymore
We just, we just love him and 
want him to come home
Chad was an elite, preppy businessman, 
and my God that smell…
smelled nice,
it's not a complete family without him
He's truly loved by all of us,
and many other people too
taught tennis
drove a great car.

April is National Poetry Month! I aim to post a poem each weekday in celebration of the form. Some old, some new, some published, some never-before-seen.