Inez Street…Haunts and Murder

Now, there seems to be the weirdest connection between my step-dad and my mom that includes some of the most frightening things. This predates them getting together and thus predates the Haunting of Utica Ave blog part 1 and 2.

Before we moved to Painter Ave, we lived on Inez street just off Florence Ave in Whittier, CA. My childhood best friend lived in the front house. We lived behind that house. There was a third house just to the right of us and a large dirt field next to them. Today, they have built a couple more houses on the property but the basic layout and original houses still stand as does the dirt field.

I was very young and I have so little recollection from the house. I go by stories that my mom and grandma told me and my few memories of the house.

I was pretty happy for the few years we were on Inez Street, but it seems that ignorance can truly be happiness.

My bedroom was next to my mom’s and it was connected by a long ways walk thru closet. I remember being in my bedroom and my mom was cleaning her room. I walked through the closet and asked if I could help. I remember seeing spots. Small spots but dark spots on the one wall. It was like always there. My mom literally cleaned that wall once a week. Scrubbed the hell out of it. Painted it. Nope…spots. My mom said no thank you and continued to scrub. I asked what it is was on the wall and my mom replied:

“Well, it is fly poop. Yep, fly poop. You do not want to scrub fly poop, do you?”

I remember grimacing and walking back through the closet to my room. Later that day, my grandma came over to the house. She was going to stay the night and babysit me while my mom went out with a few friends.

I went to bed and my grandma was watching tv. I fell asleep and woke up to my grandma standing over the top of me. I looked at her and she looked confused and concerned at the same time. I sensed I might be in trouble for something. She asked me if I was just in the kitchen. I shook my head no. She asked me:

“Are you lying to me?”

I said no. She said okay. The next morning I overheard my nana telling my mom that I had snuck into the kitchen and broke the cookie jar. That she saw my shadow running from the kitchen, down the hall and into my room. My mom said ok. No one ever talked to me about it. My mom never even mentioned it when nana left.

A few months later, my mom was cleaning out the closet. I was watching TV. She yelled at me about her broom. I went to the closet and asked what??? She asked if I took the broom. I said  nope and went back to the TV. My mom, said…I am running to the corner and grabbing a broom from the little store that was there. I shrugged and watched TV.

A few months go by, I remember I got grounded. I cannot remember for what. Probably riding my bike on Florence Ave. I was never allowed to and I always did. My mom was really pissed. I remember that I got spanked with a belt. My mom was back in her room furiously scrubbing the wall again. That night, that night…that is the most vivid memory I have of the place.

I was in a onesie, footed pajamas. It was cold. My mom and Kerry Darling (my step dad whose name I took as a kid) were sitting on the couch in the living room. I remember walking down the hall. I stood in the doorway of the living room. I begged my mom to help me. I was feeling really sick. Completely dying like sick. My mom looked at me and said:

“I cannot move…baby, go back to bed. We are sick too. I can’t. I love you. I love you more than life.”

I remember falling in the doorway and throwing up. I could not open my eyes but I felt someone pick me up to carry me. I must have passed out. I thought it was my mom.

Next thing I remember was waking up in the ambulance. My mom next to me hysterical. I smiled and she grabbed me and held me so tight. The ambulance driver was talking to the police. I have no clue who was speaking to who…but I overheard these facts:

“Good thing the neighbor saw that kid in the bathroom window and called us. She was blue with head hanging out of the window.”

“well, a few more minutes without fresh air and she would be dead. The whole family would be dead. Any clue how she got up there in her state?”

“none. The parents were passed out on the couch. Had to break down the door.”

“Gas company on the way? Are they going to clear the house of any other potential heater leaks?”

“Yep. Are you releasing them?”

“No. Taking them for observation. They were almost gassed.”

Things go back to normal and we are not allowed to ever turn on the gas heater again. We go onto our vacation. We come home, the door is kicked in with police tape. My mom calls the police. The neighbors had seen a child’s hand banging on the window and they heard screams for help. They knew we were on vacation and the key we left them was not working. The police had arrived and saw the child’s hand and heard the pleas. Kicked in the door to find no one there. They paid for the door.

My mom decides to move us. We moved to Painter Ave, not very far away.

But that is not the end of the story….far from it…stay tuned for part two with the follow up research! Murder, Murder and more on this ground.