Identified? Candle Face Victim #42: The Crown of Bone

October 17, 2024

I keep wrestling with the same painful question: how can I help the Lost Souls if I can’t identify them? This conflict feels sharper after what happened this summer, when the family and friends of another Lost Soul called and asked me to stop mentioning their loved one on my podcast. I ended the podcast out of respect for their wishes, yet the dilemma remains. And now, when a spirit like Victim #42 comes to me, full of hope and sadness, it feels as though she believes I’m her last chance. How can I honor both requests: the living who need peace, and the dead who need a voice?

In her testimony a few nights ago, the spirit revealed that October 10 was the anniversary of her death and that her birthday had been a few days earlier. Dates like these are invaluable, hard markers that can link to missing persons reports and timelines, pointing to identities that might otherwise stay hidden. Knowing this, I began searching for any missing persons who disappeared in Central Texas on October 10 and whose birthdays fell shortly before. It was a long shot, but the urgency in her voice and the importance of those dates left me no choice. Google led me to a very similar listing on TheDoeNetwork, one about a woman who disappeared on October 10, 1992, with a birthday of October 7, 1967. The report even noted that she was last seen wearing a yellow shirt and had a scar “in the scalp area on her forehead,” an uncanny match to the spirit’s description.

It felt like she had been waiting for someone to make the connection. But can I be certain? And even if this spirit is the woman in that report, the spirits want to be known, and I want to protect the families they left behind.

I think of what it would be like to show up on this woman’s family’s doorstep and say, “Your loved one came to me one night, asking for help.” Then how would I even begin to explain that she’s missing half of her skull? I’d be seen as a cruel stranger dredging up old wounds, and the family might look at me with horror, questioning my sanity. But the pain in that spirit’s eyes was unmistakable. She trusts me to help her. So how do I honor that trust without betraying her family’s need for peace?

I can’t turn my back on the Lost Souls who come to me, now that my abilities are growing. But each attempt drags me back into the same helplessness. How can I help her while I’m stuck balancing the dead against the living?

I question whether I’m really prepared for this investigation. Yes, my skills are improving. I’ve reached a point I once only dreamed of. But for what? To be bound by the same restrictions I had before, forever torn between protecting the families and my duty to the Lost Souls. I see now that I can identify them if I try hard enough. Yet where does that leave me? Just as desperate as before, only now I know who they are, and I know that I can’t do anything with that knowledge.

I don’t know what to do, but I know one thing: if that spirit is who I think she might be, I won’t give up on her, or on the others waiting in line to speak to me. I may be caught between two worlds, but if there’s a way to free her without causing more harm, I’ll find it.

But tonight, as I sit here, I feel more alone than ever.

Personal Note to My Readers

I’m struggling with a difficult decision. I believe I may have a name for this Lost Soul. As you may have noticed, I haven’t shared it. I keep circling the question. Should I include her name, bringing her closer to the peace she seeks, or protect the family she left behind? So I’m asking you: what do you think? Is helping the Lost Souls more important than respecting the wishes of the living? Or are the living, with their fragile balance between healing and memory, more deserving of protection?

When a Lost Soul comes to me, I’m faced with their suffering and their longing to be known. They’re no longer part of our world, yet their connection to it remains powerful through me. The living, however, carry the grief, often silently. To honor both sides of this mission, to give peace to the dead without harming the living, feels like an impossible line to walk.

If I share a name, it could reopen wounds, but if I don’t, I’m leaving a Lost Soul adrift, missing a piece of her story. It’s a question I wrestle with daily, and I’m not sure I’ll ever fully answer. I’ll take any guidance you can offer. I’m grateful to have each of you beside me in this mission.