Season 09 Episode 14: Cats in the Cradle

stories you hear on the show. But it's also a home for something more personal, my fiction, my strange amusings, and the odd fragments that don't belong anywhere else. Search for Unexplained podcast on substack or go to Unexplained podcast dot substack dot com to find out more and subscribe. If it's like a little bit more of me and Unexplained in your week, join me on substack and let's

keep exploring the unknown together, new writing every Monday. As Philip Larkin once wrote, they fuck you up your mum and dad. They may not mean to, but they do. They fill you with the faults they had, and add some extra just for you, whether for good or bad. We're all shaped by our family dynamics. Some of us are the product of heteronormative relationships. Others will have been raised by same sex partners, or maybe even in non

monogamous or communal parenting arrangements. Some of us will have grown up with two parents who live happily together, some by parents who are separated, or perhaps by a single parent due to choice or loss. Perhaps you are raised by your grandparents or another member of your family. Some of us will be only children. Others might have ten sisters and brothers. Some are adopted or fostered with no knowledge of their forebears, while others have large blood related

families that can be traced back for generations. The nuclear core of the traditional two parent household has become so entrenched as an aspiration in popular culture that when many of us think of the word family, we often neglect to account for more complex versions of the structure, versions that are as individual and variable and valid as the

people contained within them. This two point four version of the family has been a staple of everything from the Simpsons to the Adams family, but in reality, this domestic ideal can sometimes conceal a much darker truth at its heart. For a start, the family is where we first internalize ideas about societal hierarchy. Patriarchal attitudes, for example, place the father at the head of the house, followed by the mother,

then brother, then sister. The law of primogeniture ensures that the eldest and in many cultures historically the male heir, regardless of age, inherits the lion's share of ancestral wealth and status when a parent or grandparent passes on darkest still, most of us are familiar with the phrase stranger danger, and yet of the five hundred and seventy homicides recorded in the UK, for example, in twenty twenty four, a staggering forty two percent of crimes were perpetrated by a

partner or ex partner of the victim. A further eighteen percent of cases involved people who were murdered either by a close relation or other family member, meaning that almost sixty percent of deliberate killings in the UK were perpetrated in the victim's own home by a relative or partner. This galling number has even led the United Nations to suggest that, rather than that big bad world out there, home is statistically the most dangerous place to be, especially

for women and girls. For one artist, perhaps more than any other. The dark truths that lie behind the facade of domestic bliss proved to be an obsession. Over the course of nearly fifty years, American filmmaker David Lynch fixed his penetrating gaze on the hypocrisy of the suburban American dream. He emphasized the strangeness lurking at the heart of seemingly ordinary family homes and neighbourhoods by utilizing dream logic, surrealist imagery,

and the occasional dose of dark humour. It's impossible to overstate the importance of Lynch's twin peaks in how influential it was in puncturing the wholesome veneer of sweet suburbia. Lynch's unique take on the police procedural, which by the nineteen nineties had grown stale, arrived like an atom bomb

into the living rooms of households everywhere. He showed that beneath the surface of the supposed familial ideal of straight, church going, white, picket fenced middle class aspiration, though, were complex power dynamics at play, with the potential for violent hidden at every turn. He showed how abuse often went hidden or was ignored for the sake of etiquette and lambasted the insincerity of communities who dared to be shocked

when the inevitable consequences washed up on their doorsteps. More alarmingly to some, he showed how repression can lead to madness and how it spreads like a contagion when its root causes are not addressed. You might have heard about the rare condition of shared madness known as folly adieu, which we explored to some degree in Season four, episode sixteen, folly Adieure. The idea was first conceptualized at the end of the nineteenth century by psychiatric doctors Charles Lazigai and

Jules Ferret. The pair noted that in several cases where one patient presented with primary delusions as a result of schizophrenia or other serious mental condition, a partner or someone living in close quarters began to experience the same delusion. The condition is so rare that only about two percent

of all psychiatric hospital admissions are said to qualify. Even rarer is when a delusion is shared by more than two people, termed progressively as the madness of three or four, etc. Or even the madness of several, which is so rare that only a handful of cases have ever been documented. Some believe it was just this kind of madness that descended on one unlucky family in rural Australia in twenty sixteen. You're listening to Unexplained and I'm Richard McLean Smith. Back

in twenty sixteen. On a chilly Tuesday morning in August, it had just gone eleven a m when Keith Whittaker, owner of a local mining utilities company, pulled into a service station in the city of Gulban in New South Wales, Australia. Keith was heading south to Canberra, about an hour's drive away, for a doctor's appointment, and was conscious of time, so after a quick dash into the garage store to pay, he got straight back into his truck and sped off

as fast as he could. Keith was about halfway into the drive when he felt something kick the back of his seat. Turning round, he was shocked to see a young woman lying down behind him in the back. Keith hurriedly pulled the car to the side at the road, but when he tried to talk to the woman, she

was completely unresponsive. Much to Keith's relief, she was still breathing at least unsure what to do exactly, he continued to try and rouse her without success, until about twenty minutes later, when the woman abruptly sat up and, with a completely blank expression, stared straight ahead at nothing in particular. Then slowly she seemed to come back to the world. Keith asked if she was okay and what her name was. It was only then that the woman finally seemed to

notice him. What's your name, asked Keith again, confusion clouded her face. I don't know, she replied. Keith looked her over for any sign of injury, but saw nothing. There was no smell of alcohol on her breath, and her clothes were clean and presentable. It was, needless to say, all very weird. Unable to get any sense from her, Keith reassured her that she was safe and promptly called

the police. For the next half an hour, the woman just stared silently out at the window until the police arrived. As they helped her out at the vehicle, she suddenly turned to Keith and offered him fifty dollars for his trouble, but he told her to keep the money. Then he watched with complete amusement as she was led into the back of the police car and driven away back to Goulburn.

About the same time that young woman was found in Keith Whittakert's truck, police in Melbourne, about five hundred miles away to the southwest in the state of Victoria, received a strange call from the New South Wales Police. They themselves had received a call a short time earlier from what sounded like a young woman in a severe state of distress. The woman, who was calling from a payphone in Gulbant, frantically explained that her parents had gone missing.

Their names were Jacoba and Mark Tromp, and they were both in their early fifties. She said the last place she'd seen them was that morning at a place called the Jenolan Caves, a famous natural landmark on the edge of the sprawling Blue Mountains National Park. The woman didn't seem to be making much sense, but the urgency in her voice was palpable. After giving the police a brief description of the couple and their home address, the woman

swiftly hung up. The address was a farm located on the eastern fringes of Melbourne, hence the call to the Victoria Police. The call was passed on to Sergeant Mark Knight of Munbulk Police Station, a small town close to the address given by the woman on the phone. As it happened, Sergeant Knight was familiar with the property and

knew the Tromp family reasonably well. The family were well known in the area, not least of all because they had a thriving red current business that employed a number of people and the large family home, swimming pool and collection of horses to go with it. There were five of them in total, parents Jacoba and Mark, and their three children, twenty nine year old Rihanna, twenty five year old Mitchell, and twenty two year old Ella, all of

whom lived in work on the farm. What Sergeant Knight couldn't get his head around, though, was what on earth would Mark and Jacoba be doing at the Jenolan Caves five hundred miles away on a workday. Things only got weirder as reports from some of the Trump's employees started to come in saying that the entire family seemed to have completely disappeared without warning the day before, and so Sergeant Knight gathered a small team and drove out to

the property to investigate. When they arrived, things immediately felt off. As Knight approached the house, he could see the curtains were drawn despite it only being early afternoon, and though a few vehicles were parked in the drive, it didn't take long to realize that nobody was home. Hello, he called out as he stepped up to the front door. He rang the bell, then, after a few minutes of no response, he tried the handle and was surprised to

find the door completely unlocked. Hello, he called out again as he and his colleagues stepped into the eerie silence of the home, but again got nothing in response. The house was in a state of utter disarray. Various items were scattered across the floor, including endless pages of paperwork, streams of bank statements and financial records. After a further search of the property, the officers also found the family's passports, bank cards, and mobile phones all had been left behind.

It was a few hours later, as the police continued to investigate the property, when they heard the sound of wheels crunching up the gravel. It was followed moments later by the appearance of a harrowed looking Ella Tromp in the doorway. The youngest daughter. It may have been the bloodshot eyes and the fact that she clearly hadn't slept in a while. Or maybe it was the odd vacant expression on her face. Whatever it was, it was clear tonight that something wasn't quite right with the young woman.

When Ella saw the police, she didn't flinch, which, naturally, Sergeant Knight thought immediately strange, although in truth this was most likely because it was Ella who'd made the original call to the police back in Golbin to report her parents missing. Even still, the nonchalance with which she asked the officers if they wanted a cup of tea was a little jarring, to say the least. Knight said yes, nonetheless, keen to use the opportunity to get a handle on

her current state of mind. It was his job to be suspicious and right then, for all he knew, they could be dealing with anything from a domestic dispute to a possible murder. He followed her into the kitchen and watched her like a hawk as she casually boiled the kettle and threw some tea bags into mugs. Satisfied that she was compassmenttous enough to be interviewed, he began with some easy questions, namely where the hell was everyone, though Ella was a little scatter gun at first, Slowly a

very strange picture began to emerge. It all started a few days ago, she said, with her parents becoming increasingly anxious over something to do with the farm's finances, or at least that's how it seemed at first, But then things began to get weird. At some point, both her parents became convinced that someone was stalking them and wanted to steal all their money, perhaps even kill them for it. Things came to a head on the morning of August

twenty ninth, the day before. In a sudden burst of panic, her parents, Jacoba and Mark, announced that the family had to leave the property immediately. They told the kids that their lives were in days if they didn't leave that instant. They ordered them to drop everything, especially their phones, because they were bugged. Suddenly, Rhianna began to panic too. Then Ella felt a surge of terror rush through her. There

was no time to spare. It was Mark who suggested they'd take Ella's car, a Silver Pergio SUV, since the other vehicles were probably bugged too. Sergeant Knight looked out the window toward the Honda Odyssey parked on the driveway that Ella had arrived in. And whose car is that? Then? Oh, said Ella, Yeah, I stole that. The sergeant let that go for a moment and asked Ella to continue her story. From what she said, it seemed her parents had no real plan other than to get to the Jenolan caves.

Perhaps they thought they could hide out there until whatever it was that was going on blew over, But Ella wasn't sure. All she knew was that in the moment, it had all seemed so very real, and before she knew it, they were on the road. It was just fifteen minutes into the drive when they realized that Mitchell

had taken his phone with him. The parents got suddenly hysterical, both clearly terrified that they whoever they were, would track them down if he didn't throw it out the window immediately. Unlike the others, Mitchell had begun to question everything that was going on, who was after them exactly and why couldn't their parents tell them? But they just screamed back in response, telling him to throw the phone out unless

he wanted them all to die. Eventually, he did what they asked, and with that they continued on their way. They drove non stop for five hundred miles until some time around seven a m. The next day, the twenty five year old Mitchell had had enough and demanded to be let out. Ella had no idea where he was, so what then of her sister, Rihanna, asked Sergeant Knight. Ella looked sheepishly to the floor. Not long after Mitchell left the family, Ella too began to question what on

earth it was they were doing. But more than that, she began to worry about her horses. Since they'd left without any warning, there was no one to look after them within twenty four hours. Without food, they could be at serious risk of developing fatal digestive problems. Ella couldn't get the thought of them in pain out of her mind. When they finally arrived at the car park for the Genolan Caves, Ella seized her moment, grabbing Rihanna, the pair

made their getaway. It isn't clear how Ella stole the car, but she likely found it in the same car park, perhaps spotting the keys and the ignition. With Rhianna in a complete daze in the passenger seat beside her, Ella drove for about one hundred miles until they found themselves

in Golban. It was there that she called the police to report her parents missing, and it was there that she inexplicably left her sister Rihanna, who at that point could barely string a sentence together, about four hundred miles from their home. Ella couldn't explain why she'd done it exactly, She just simply had to get home to her horses. Sergeant Knight listened to it all with complete and utter amusement, but promised to do whatever he could to help locate

the rest of her family. It was around this time that the woman who'd been found in the back of the truck just outside of Golban finally remembered who she was. It was, of course, Rhianna Trump. Still not quite in her right mind, she was kept at the Low Hospital for psychological observation. The following morning, Mitchell made it back to the farm safe and sound. Mitchell, who'd managed to find an overnight train home, later confirmed Ella's statement, at

least up until the moment he left. Unlike Ella, to Sergeant Knight, Mitchell seemed to be of entirely sound mind, and, as he explained to the sergeant later, he was equally baffled by his parents and sister's behavior, he didn't believe for a second that anyone was really after them, and had only joined the others in the car because he

was worried about them. That worry only intensified when he arrived back home to find Ella on her own and no sign of their parents, who were by then genuinely missing. It was some time around ten pm that night that a couple driving somewhere close to merrowa park in Wangorata in northeast Victoria, spotted a silver Pergio suv being driven

erratically and fast approaching them from behind. The suv then proceeded to tailgate them for about five minutes until they were eventually forced to pull over to let it pass. Only it didn't it pulled over to The couple watched in horror as the driver, a man in his early fifties, raced up the road toward them, only to then stop suddenly and stare at them intensely for what felt like an eternity, until finally, having not said a word, the man turned and fled on foot into the park, abandoning

his vehicle by the side of the road. The following day, police responding to the peculiar incident, found the silver suv still parked at the side of the road with the keys in the ignition. It was quickly identified as Ella's car, but there was no sign of the man who'd been driving it. It was later reported that someone had broken into the roof of a nearby motel and appeared to

have stayed there for the night. Some two hundred and thirty miles away to the north of Wangaratta, in the town of Yas, a vacant looking middle aged woman unknown to anyone was found wandering around the town. Thanks to a good Samaritan, she was picked up and taken to

the local hospital. Later that day, Mitchell and a now seemingly recovered Ella gave a statement to Australia's Channel nine News from their farm, asking for help from the public to find their parents, but giving nothing away about their predicament. Soon after, the woman found wandering around Yas was identified as their mother, Jacoba, with Rhianna having been identified too. Jacoba was taken to Goban Hospital to be reunited with her.

She too was kept in for psychiatric assessment, but still nothing was heard of Mark Tromp's whereabouts, prompting an even more frantic search. Forty eight hours later, around six pm on September three officers driving along a highway close to Wangarata Airport spotted him walking aimlessly down the road. He was immediately picked up and driven to hospital for a mental health check, before being taken to the nearest police station.

Six hours later, he was released into the custody of his brother, who also happened to be a serving police officer. By then, a crowd of journalists had gathered at the police station to get a glimpse of the man at the center of one of the strangest news stories in recent times. When he finally appeared, he was quickly shepherded into a waiting car and refused to answer any questions. As he was driven away, he flipped the bird at

the assembled crowd before disappearing into the night. Nothing else was heard on the matter until two days later, when Mark Tromp issued a statement on the family's behalf. In recent days, my family has been through a difficult period and we will soon be reunited together. I hope that we will begin to make sense of our ordeal and

return to a normal life. I am conscious of the burden these events have placed upon our extended family, friends and the community resources devoted to our aid without reservation. I apologize for the hurt and concern caused by these events on behalf of our family. I express our deep gratitude to Victoria and New South Wales Police, as well as the healthcare professionals who have looked after our physical and mental well being. More than anything, my family and

I need time to recover. To this end, we request that the media organizations respect our request for privacy. No explanation was given for why he and his wife had forced his family to flee their home so suddenly, or what exactly he had gotten up to in the intervening days. In the end, police found no history of mental illness within the family, no sign that any drugs had been taken, and no evidence that they were trying to escape from debt, a church, cult, or any other group who may have

been out to harm them. Police Sergeant Mark Knight called it the most bizarre case he'd ever worked on and was just as perplexed as the public when it came to giving an explanation. It was also discovered that during conversations prior to their road trip, the Trumps had at one point considered leaving the country, but changed their minds when it was pointed out that their passports could be tracked. The whole trip saw the family travel almost a miles in the space of just a few days for no

discernible reason. Offering something of a final word on the matter, the family's son, Mitchell, told reporters it's really hard to explain. I'll put a word on it, but they were just fearing for their lives and then they decided to flee. It was a build up of different, normal everyday events, just pressure, and it slowly got worse as the days

went by. In March twenty seventeen, having initially been charged with stealing a vehicle, police withdrew the charges against Ella Tromp after the vehicle's owner, presumably having thought the family had suffered enough, declined to pursue the case. Just six months later, the family were back working on the farm as though nothing had happened. No further explanation was ever

given for the bizarre road trip. It's likely we'll never know just what exactly spooked Mark and Jacoba Trump so much, or how exactly their troubled mental state spread so profoundly to the rest of the family. Mitchell aside causing Rihanna to forget who she was, and Ella, a perfectly law abiding citizen to randomly steal someone's car and drive it four hundred miles without skipping a beat. Though it doesn't give us an explanation for what happened to the Tromp family.

Before we go, I want to return to that famous poem of Philip Larkin's This be the verse. They fuck you up your mum and dad. They may not mean to, but they do. They fill you with the faults they had, and add some extra just for you. These four lines, perhaps some of the most well known British poetry, are often repeated with a sense of bittersweet weariness we nod along and bitter recognition at all the negative ways our

own pairents of marketers. These lines are so famous, in fact, it's easy to forget there is actually a little more to the poem, and to ignore the rest of it is to miss the real point that we should go easy on our parents for what they unintentionally pass on to us, because the same was meted out to them too. They were fucked up in their turn by fools in old style hats and coats who half the time were soppy, stern, and half at one another's throats. Man hands on misery

to man, it deepens like a coastal shelf. Get out as early as you can, and don't have any kids yourself now. I should say, as a parent myself, that last bit I disagree with. But it doesn't matter what your family looks like and whether or not it conforms to what others might deem to be the perfect family unit. Or that your kids need is your love and to know that you'll always be there for them. Outside of that, you're just doing the best you can. This episode was

written by Richard mclin smith and James Connor Patterson. Thank you as ever for listening. Unexplained as an Avy Club production podcast created by Richard McClain Smith. All other elements of the podcast, including the music, are also produced by me Richard McClain Smith. Unexplained. The book and audiobook is now available to buy worldwide. You can purchase from Amazon,

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