Sharon couldn't sleep. It was Jay, her boyfriend, who suggested she stayed at his house while he was out of town, and since she was currently between apartments, it made perfect sense. But Sharon had been reticent. It wasn't that she didn't like the house. It was positively charming in its Bavarian timber framed style, nestled high among the hills and trees
of LA's Benedict Canyon. In fact, the couple, who'd been seeing each other for almost a year, had spent many happy hours there together, often in the company of their many glamorous friends, spending long lazy days by the pool, drinking and getting high. But being there alone and at night was an entirely different proposition. The place, located at ninety eight sixty Eastern Drive, was built sometime in the Prohibition era and once belonged to Hollywood film producer and
writer Paul Byrne. In nineteen thirty two, Burne's marriage to Jean Harlowe, one of the major film stars of the day and twenty years his junior, brought him to public prominence. However, it was the events that occurred in their home two months later that would seal his place in Hollywood infamy. Burne's butler, John Carmichael, was inspecting the house early one morning when he found Burne lying naked in the dressing
room adjacent to Jean Harlowe's bedroom. Assuming he'd collapsed, Carmichael rushed to his help, only to find to his horror that Burne was lying dead in a large pool of blood. Carmichael saw the single bullet wound in his head, then looking up the large splattering of blood and soft tissue, still wet and clinging to the ceiling, Sharon host and
turned in bed, opening her eyes. She couldn't help but stare at the entrance to that small adjacent room, just visible in the dark, where Burne's blood soaked body had once lain. There had long been rumors that the house was haunted, that her mystery surrounding Burne's death had caused his restless soul to wander and had become trapped in that big, eccentric house of his. It was partly what had drawn Jay to the house in the first place when he bought it two years back in nineteen sixty three.
Sharon had never let it bother her until now, that is, She tried to push it all from her mind and get back to sleep. But couldn't escape that creeping sensation that those creeks outside the door weren't just creaks but footsteps, and they were getting nearer. You're listening to unexplained, and I'm Richard McClean smith. Paul Burne's death was determined to be a suicide after investigators found not only a gun in his hand, but an apparent suicide note left at
the scene for his wife. It read, dearest dear, Unfortunately, this is the only way to make good the frightful wrong I've done you and wipe out my abject humiliation. I love you, Paul. You understand that last night was only a comedy. Only something didn't quite fit that misspelling of unfortunately from a successful writer perhaps, or was it something more. The day after Paul Burne's body was discovered, a woman boarded the Delta King riverboat in San Francisco,
heading for Sacramento. In the early hours of the following day, the woman, Dorothee Millet, Paul Burne's first wife, was seen standing alone on the top deck, staring out to see and clearly in some distress. A few hours later, a night watchman found a pair of shoes and a woman's coat on deck, close to where Dorothee had been seen. By the time the boat docked the following morning, Dorothee
had completely vanished. Milette's disappearance soon hit the news, with many speculating she had in fact killed Paul Byrne and faked her own death to get away. This speculation was given greater credence when rumors emerged that Byrne had been entertaining a mystery woman at his home the day before
his body was found. Years later, producer Samuel Marks, Burne's friend and colleague at MGM Studios, who employed both Jean Harlowe and Paul Byrne, made the stunning revelation that when Burne's butler first found the body, he called the studio before the police. Their response, according to Mars, was to dispatch Marks into another the colleague, Irving Thalburk, to the
house to assess the situation before the police arrived. Their aim, allegedly was to protect the reputation of Jean Harlowe, their newest and brightest young star. Harlowe was said to have been staying at her mother's house the night Burne died. Mars claimed to have witnessed Thalburk tampering with the scene. It isn't known to what extent it was tampered with, if it was at all, though it's been suggested that the gun found in Burne's hand by police had not
been there when the butler first found his body. A week after Millet disappeared, two fishermen working on the Sacramento River found her body floating face down in the water. Over the next few days, a number of stories were spun, some alleging that Dorothy had murdered her husband. After discovery, he changed his will so that Harlowe would be the
sole beneficiary. At that time in her life, Millet, who had been plagued by ill health and recently spent time in a sanatorium, had become entirely dependent on Burne's financial support. Friends of Burne's, however, spoke of his struggles with depression due to the publicity surrounding his marriage to Harlowe, and how he previously contemplated suicide, while at the same time
MGM Studios apparently worried by the fallout to Harlowe. Should it be proved that Burne had been cheating on her, supposedly made their own attempts to muddy the waters, allegedly implying that Burne's failure to satisfy his wife sexually had driven him to suicide. Burne's death was said by some to have put a curse on the house, with at least one other person rumored to have committed suicide there and another drowning in the pool since it had happened.
Perhaps it was this that was racing through Sharon's mind as she heard yet another creak coming from out in the hallway. Powerless to resist the thought of Burne's bloodstained body lying naked only yards away, the blood splattered ceiling, and his vacant, dead eyes. Enough was enough. Sharon switched on the light and sat up in bed. Just then,
a sudden movement outside the bedroom caught her eye. As she peered out into the darkness beyond, she saw, to her horror that something was out there hovering in the doorway. It was a man, Shortisian stature, with a small mustache and a strange look on his face. He looked exactly like Paul Byrne. Sharon could only watch in terror as the man burst suddenly into the room, moving wildly about
the place at double speed. Sharon leapt from the bed, grabbed her robe, and ran shrieking into the hallway, Fleeing to the stairs. Sharon raced down the steps, only to be confronted by an even more hideous sight, a body tied up with rope at the bottom of the stairs, just visible in the darkness, with its throat slit wide open and blood gushing out of it. Sharon screamed as she hurried through into the living room, slamming the door shut behind her as she struggled to come to terms
with what was happening. Surely it was a dream, she thought, as she paced manically about the room. It was just one of those all two real, lucid dreams that emerge when the mind flutters about in that liminal space between sleep and wakefulness. But what was that figure tied up to the stairs. It looked so familiar, she thought, Was it Ja or had it in fact been a vision
of herself? Deciding she wanted a d she heard a voice echoing from a distant place, telling her to look at the bookshelf and convincing her further that it was just a dream. Moving to the shelves, she found herself frantically searching for something, despite having no idea what she was looking for. But as she ran her fingers along the books, she found a button and pressed it. With a click, the bookshelf popped open to reveal a secret bar space behind. Grabbing a bottle from within, she quickly
poured herself a drink. As she gulped it down, she became transfixed by the wallpaper lining the bar inside. Reaching out to touch it, she couldn't help but tear a piece of it away, revealing a copper panel behind it. She pulled another strip, and then another. Finishing her drink, Sharon made her way back to the hall. Peering out toward the bottom of the stairs, she caught sight of the horrifying figure once more, still tied up to the banister,
its neck still gushing with blood. Then a movement upstairs drew her attention to the peculiar man again, who was now moving about on the landing. It's only a dream, she reminded herself, closing her eyes. Sharon jumped onto the stairs and sprinted back to the bedroom, closing the door quickly behind her. Then the sound of another voice calling her name from somewhere getting louder and louder, a voice she recognized immediately as Jay's, and then she opened her eyes.
Sharon awoke to find herself back in bed, hearing the sound of Jay's voice calling from downstairs. Moments later, he was at the door, greeting her with a smile. Sharon laughed with relief as she tried to explain the peculiar nightmare she'd been having. She was still explaining it to him as the couple made their way downstairs for breakfast, when Sharon caught sight of the mess in the living room. The bookcase bar was open and at the base of it was a small pile of wall paper ribbed out
from the inside. It was certainly a compelling story, thought Dick, But what does it mean? Asked Sharon. It was August nineteen sixty eight, and with Sharon now a rising star herself in Hollywood, the pair was sat in a trailer on the set of her latest movie, The Wrecking Crew, a spoofed spy comedy that Sharon was starring in alongside
Dean Martin. Dick, a Hollywood correspondent working for the newspaper Enterprise Association at the time, had come to interview her for an article he was writing about the production of the film. Her story had been a response to Dick's final question, something he liked to ask all his interviewees. Had she ever had any psychic experiences? Sharon sat back in her chair and took another drag of her cigarette as Dick racked his brains for an answer. I mean,
was it a dream? Was it ghosts? She asked, adamant it was the only experience of that kind she'd ever had. Dick was stumped. Maybe the peculiar man she'd seem was a ghost, he thought, the troubled spirit of Paul Byrne perhaps, But the horrific vision of the mutilated figure on the stairs that she recognized as either herself or her boyfriend Jay, that he couldn't explain. Rosemary Kent, a woman who lives on the edge of the infamous Black Hill's Forest, needs
your help to find her missing son. But to find him, you must investigate the mysterious forest yourself. Will you face down the horror of the blair Witch and those who serve her. Blair Witch is the new horror subscription game brought to you by Hunt a Killer in partnership with lions Gate, a fully immersive experience in the blair Witch universe delivered straight to your door, and its scary as hell, with a full season comprising of six boxes or episodes.
Each box will have you sifting through cryptic documents, discovering audio recordings, and solving some disturbing puzzles. Whether you're social distancing or struggling to find somewhere fun to go out for the night, This is the perfect game to play at home with a small group of friends, or even online via video calls, picking through the clues together under
candle light from the comfort of your own home. Right now, just for listeners, have unexplained, You can go to hunter Killer dot com slash b w unexplained and use your promo code b w unexplained at checkout for twenty percent off your first box. Head to hunter Killer dot com slash b w unexplained for twenty percent off and to show support for the podcast once again, that's hunt a Killer dot com slash bw unexplained. Will you Survive the Curse of the blair Witch By nineteen sixty eight, Sharon
and Jay were no longer together. In nineteen sixty five, not long after that horrifying experience in Jay's house. Sharon had traveled to Europe to shoot the occult horror mystery Eye of the Devil. Having fallen in love with London in the process, she decided to stay awhile once filming had ended. It was there that she was first introduced to Roman, an up and coming film director from Poland. Having established himself in nineteen sixty two with his breakout
film Knife in the Water. Roman was looking to cast his latest film, The Fearless Vampire Killers, when it was suggested to him that he considers Sharon for a part. The Fearless Vampire Killers was to be a power of the British horror films of the day, epitomized by the
famous Hammer Film Productions. The role of Sarah Schargle, the daughter of an innkeeper who would eventually turn into a vampire herself, was to provide the romantic interest of the film's lead character, which, as it happened, would be played by Roman. After much persuasion by the film's executive producer, Marin Ransohoff, who also had a stake in Sharon's career, Roman finally agreed to offer her the role. Though they clashed at first, through the course of filming in nineteen
sixty six, the pair embarked on an affair. Before long they were immersed in the thick of swinging sixties London together, bouncing from one party to the next, hanging with all the bright young stars in Soho or along the King's Road, at all the most fashionable clubs and bars. Roman made it clear early on that he was not the monogamous type, but Sharon, who would have preferred him to be, could resist way she felt about him. Though he was a little on the short side, she had been seduced by
his sheer sense of inner conviction and confidence. He seemed beyond manipulation in a way, utterly self assured and resistant
to external forces. That he was unwilling to even countenance dedicating himself to her alone, she reasoned, was merely further evidence of his beguiling free spiritedness, and London for her, in the increasingly rare social circles that she was beginning to find herself in, was intoxicating, populated, as she said, with free thinkers feeling their way through life and leaving an impression on the times. Being the daughter of a
United States army officer. Sharon, who was by then twenty four, reveled in the youthful rebellion and urgency of the day. It was a mind expanding revolution of color and thought, catalyzed by a ubiquity of pot and other mind altering substances that only served to further expose the rigid status quo, and she was at the epicenter of it all five thousand miles away, another young woman had also just secured the part of a vampire in a somewhat less auspicious production.
By nineteen sixty seven, Susan had been living in San Francisco for just over a year when she took a job as a go go dancer, working at a number of clubs on the North Beach Strip. Nights were long, usually running from four pm till two in the morning, before moving on to the next club to dance until dawn in the hope of maybe being spotted by a talent agent. It was while dancing one night that Susan, only eighteen years old at the time, was introduced to
Anton LeVay. Levy and his followers had been causing a stir with the recent establishing of his Church of Satan. Though many found the group alarming. In truth, it was little more than an individualist occult movement that practiced magic, more opposed to the orthodoxes of Christianity than in thraw to any actual Satan. Lavay was developing a production based around the idea of a witch's Sabbath and was looking for women to play the part of alluring scantily clad
vampires who would terrorize the audience as the sabbath was conducted. Susan, needing the money, had reluctantly taken the job, often relying on acid in order to find the courage to perform. Though the show was a hit, it had come at a moment of crisis for Susan. Having become heavily immersed in the San Francisco scene, her drug use had steadily intensified, and her health, both mental and physical, was shot. Four months later, she had a breakdown and was admitted to hospital.
As someone who felt she'd spent her whole life looking for somewhere to belong, it was clear that where she was then wasn't it. Her collapse was a wake up call that brought her to the more mellow confines of hate Ashbury, a counterculture mecca and the center of what would later become known as the Summer of Love. It was while walking along the streets of hate Ashbury one afternoon that Susan bumped into Barbara, an old friend from
her hometown of Los Banos. Susan had always thought Barbara a little square, so was surprised to find her there, of all places. But Barbara had evolved somewhat from the innocent, seeming farm girl Susan had thought her to be. With the political turmoil of nineteen sixties America, lurching from the successful Civil Rights movement one moment to being my I had in an increasingly messy war in Vietnam the next, many Americans were beginning to question just what a free
world was. Exactly what was happening in hate Ashbury offered a glimpse of a different world, a world that was no longer bound by the restrictive social conventions of the day, a place in which, often with the aid of LSD and marijuana, you could shed every label, tag, and assumption that had ever weighed you down. Like Susan, Barbara had also been drawn there by its alluring promise of new ways to exist. She invited Susan back to the house she was living in to meet her new family, as
she called it. The house was a large, two story townhouse on the corner of Oak and Lyon Street, right next door to Janis Joplin's home. Once there, Barbara showed Susan around the property and introduced her to the ten other people that were living there as part of the commune, one woman for each man, but Susan noticed there were presently six men to only five women. Susan sat and smoked part with them as they explained to her how
it worked. They all shared everything in common except each other, with the man to woman pairings being strictly monogamous. They made money by selling dope on the street, with each man being a dealer and the women tasked with finding people to sell it to. When Barbara suggested Susan move in with them to make up the numbers, she jumped
at the charts. Having wrapped up production on The Fearless Vampire Killers, Roman and Sharon had returned together to Los Angeles, unable to find somewhere to settle down, due in part to Roman's reluctance to become too rooted anywhere, but also their naturally transient work life. The couple rented a room at the Chateau Marmont before moving into a house in
Benedict Canyon in the Hollywood Hills. The house, which they rented from Oscar winning actor Patty Duke, quickly became a regular hangout for the couple's burgeoning and increasingly high profile group of friends, everyone from Steve McQueen and Dennis Hopper to Candice Bergen and Mia Farrow, from the Mummers and
the Pappas to Jim Morrison. The house was so often visited people soon became accustomed to Sharon and Roman's relaxed nature, where the door seemed permanently open, so that almost anyone could come and go as they pleased. As part of the agreement to rent the house, the couple had agreed to look after Patty's English sheep dock. When one morning it bolted out of the property, giving chase, Roman tracked it to a house a little further down the road.
The house was being used by members of the Process of the Final Judgment, otherwise known simply as the Process. The group was a religious movement of sorts established in London in nineteen sixty six, inspired in part by scientology
Alister Crowley and the work of psychologist Alfred Adler. There were rumors that they participated in the farious rituals, but Roman knew little of that, only that they were well known for keeping large Alsatian dogs as pets, a fact he became plainly aware of that day when, on seeing him draw near to the property, two of them chased him into a nearby garage in desperation, as the dogs barked manically outside, the traumatized Roman was forced to break
a window before leaping out the back of the building and hurriedly making his escape. Back in San Francisco, Susan's commune was attracting the attention of the FBI. One day, while out with two of the men, Susan realized they were being followed by a couple of plainclothed officers. The group decided to split up, with Susan high tailing it in one direction and the others heading off in another.
When Susan returned to the house later that afternoon, a little stone from a joint she just smoked, she heard the sound of a guitar and some one singing coming from one of the rooms above. Following the sound. She drifted softly up the stairs in her bare feet toward the doorway of the living room. There, sat on the sofa was a Shortish man, clean shaven, with long dark hair, playing the guitar. He was dressed in a white T shirt, blue jeans, and sandals, and had multi colored beads draped
around his neck. On either side of him sat a woman, while on the ground other women sat at his feet as they watched him, his eyes closed and head tilted back, singing gently into the air. The room, thick with the smell of pot and incense, was hazy with smoke that curled and played with the soft light of the afternoon. Susan couldn't take her eyes off the man. Just then, for a moment, he opened his eyes and fixed her with his stare, as if beckoning her to go in.
Unable to resist, Susan stepped inside and took a seat at the singer's feet, looking up at him from below. Lit up behind by the soft afternoon light, he looked like an angel. She was still staring at him when she realized he was no longer singing, but talking to the woman next to him. Just then, a thought popped into her head that she would like to play his guitar. Without having said a word, the man turned to her suddenly and said, why don't you play it. Susan was shocked.
Had he just read her mind in that moment, she knew immediately that this was the thing she'd been looking for. Without thinking, Susan smiled at the man and then bent down and kissed his feet. Just then, the sounds of Jefferson Airplane began to emanate from a record player. Lured by the rhythm, Susan pulled herself up and began to dance. Unbeknownst to her, the man put down his guitar and walked over to join her. Moving in close behind, he leant in and whispered in her ear. No two actions
are the same. Everything is new. Let it be new, he said. Before long, they were fused, mirroring each other's moves. At one point, it seemed to Susan that they'd even traveled through each other's bodies. The music swelled, growing in speed and intensity, and their movements did the same, becoming more and more wild, until suddenly the music stopped. You're beautiful, said the man. I'm Susan, she said in reply, who are you me? Said the man? I'm Charlie. Charlie Manson.
You've been listening to part one of Unexplained, Season five, Episode five, When Love Breaks Down. Part two will be released next Friday, November thirteenth. If you enjoy Unexplained and would like to help support us, you can now do
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