Hello?

Hello?

Oh, hello.

Do you know who this is?

Yes.

Evie.

Yeah, you got me.

You.

Have a.

Pretty recognizable voice, I have to say. It has a pleasantly deep register.

Wow. In a nice way. And it makes your voice very distinct. It's funny you should say this.

Because.

One time when I was in middle school, my friend called my house and I picked up the phone and I was like, Hello. And she thought it was my dad. She was like, Hi, Rob. Is Stevie home? I just pretended that, in fact, I was my father. I was just like, Yeah, let me get her.

You didn't want to contradict your friend.

I think I was just so embarrassed that I could possibly be mistaken for an old man. Well, maybe with.

Respect.

To your dad, maybe he.

Sounds like a little girl.

Hello, Stevie Lane's dad speaking. I'm Stevie Lain, and this is Heavyweight. Today's episodeis the today's episode of The Tudor. 44 Photos. Right after the break. So why did I, Trevor.

Noah, decide to do a podcast? I think this podcast gives me an.

Opportunity to.

Have the conversations that I've been having, just with other people able.

To listen in on them.

Come to this podcast because you want to think. Come to this podcast because you want to have fun. Come to this podcast because you want to be challenged. Follow What Now with Trevor Noah on Spotify, Apple, or wherever you get your podcasts.

There are places, according to Celtic folklore, where the boundary between our physical world and the spiritual world is porous, where earth and the otherworldly are separated by no more than a few inches. At these places, strange, unexplainable things can happen. These places are called thin places, and this is a story about one of them.

A few.

Years ago, Jordan Kistner wrote a book about Thin Places. She wanted to send it to her friend, Amy.

It was April seventh, 2021, and I went to the USPS that was a few blocks away from my apartment at the time.

Jordan bought a brown padded envelope, put her book inside, and handed it to the postal worker.

That was that. It was a really uneventful post office visit on a pretty normal spring day in Vegas. It was a sunny day in April, and I walked to the mailbox.

This is Jordan's friend, Amy.

Which is a really exciting part of my day. I really like mail. I open the mailbox with the little key and there's something stuffed into my box.

Something Amy had been expecting. The package Jordan sent her.

It says to Amy from Jordan and the address is Las Vegas.

Amy brought the package back to her house and eagerly tore it open. But inside, Amy did not find Jordan's book. She didn't find a book at all. Instead, she found a stack of photographs.

That's where the mystery begins.

Amy didn't recognize anyone in the photos. There was one of a girl wearing a blue T-shirt with clouds printed on it, another of three teenagers in caps and gowns. The people were of all different ages and races. Some of the photos were in black and white, some in color. One was a Polaroid. Amy counted 44 photos in all. 44 photos of complete and total strangers. Yet, the package was labelled to Amy, her name, written in Ballpoint pen. Jordan's return address was scrolled in the upper left-hand corner. Struggling to come up with an explanation, Amy wondered.

Maybe Jordan sent these by accident.

Amy texted Jordan, telling her she received her package, but rather than a book, found 44 photographs inside.

I was completely confused. I just couldn't... I actually felt like I couldn't totally comprehend the message she was sending me.

Jordan texted Amy back.

Wait, what? With two question marks.

Two?

Yeah, two. And then, Photos, question mark.

Amy sent Jordan a picture of the package and all 44 photographs spread out on her kitchen counter.

And she said, What? In all caps? I have no idea what those photos are. I don't even know those people, but that's my handwriting on the package.

It was hard to know what to make of the whole thing. It's like Amy expected a book about Thin Places, but got an actual Thin Place experience instead. Amy can't bring herself to just throw the photos away. For an entire year now, she's kept them by her desk. For an entire year, she's been studying them. There's the one of a new baby sucking on someone's finger. There's a little girl in glasses and a cheerleader's outfit holding her leg up and smiling confidently into the camera. The more Amy looks at the photos, the more she thinks about the family that's missing them. These people in the photos are nobody's to Amy, but they are somebody's to somebody.

Is there a way to find any of these people? Who are they? Do they want their photographs back? Because I would like the photographs to be returned to the family. I feel like people should have their things.

A year ago, when Amy first received the package, she and Jordan tried opening a case file on the mysterious photos, hoping the USPS could shed light on where they came from, but nothing ever came of it.

The mail system, we feel like we understand it, but then when you really think about it, it is this complete mystery. It's like a void into which we send stuff and from which that stuff emerges again. But then when it doesn't emerge, you're like, Wait a second, but where is it going? What is this system? What don't we know about it?

There's a lot that I don't know about it. But Amy and Jordan want my help figuring out how Amy ended up with the photographs and how to return to Sender. To get to the bottom of it, I'll have to navigate a mysterious, little understood world that exists alongside our own. A world separated only by an inches wide slot in a metal box. And so I step over the boundary into the world of the United States Postal Service. I start with a theory that Jordan, Amy, and I discussed on the phone. Jordan had sent Amy the book via media mail, a discounted rate for sending things like books and CDs. From what I read online, it sounds like the post office searches media mail packages to prevent people from sending anything they want on the cheap. In fact, Amy noticed that the package had been taped up as though it had been resealed en route. Maybe Jordan's package and the package with the photos were both searched and then accidentally swapped. To test this theory, I call the Postal Inspection Service. It turns out the post office has a whole department of inspectors. Are you like the James Bond of the Mail Service?

Actually, it's funny you mentioned that my badge number was 007.

No, really? Really? Really. His name is Michalco, Dan Michalco. He's a US postal inspector. And what does he inspect?

Postal crimes, theft of mail, mail fraud, prohibited items in the mail, such as bombs, narcotics, anthrax attacks, pornography.

I put my theory to Dan. Might the Postal Inspection Service have opened an examination of a woman, Jordan's package?

No, we don't do anything like that. The only time we'd ever inspect mail was if we had a search warrant. We can't just open up mail. Huh. Nobody in the Postal Service has that authority.

Dan says USPS investigators don't inspect packages without probable cause.

Here's what it sounds like may have happened.

Dan guesses that somewhere along the way, Jordan's package got damaged and the book fell out. Another package carrying the bundle of photos could have also broken open. A postal worker might have seen the loose bundle of photos, thought they belonged in Jordan's envelope, and accidentally switched the packaging. Here's where that switch might have occurred.

It used to be commonly referred to as the Dead Letter Office, but now I think it's Mail Recovery Center.

The Mail Recovery Center, or MRC, is located in Atlanta, Georgia. It's where all undeliverable mail winds up. Some of the stuff they receive is truly strange. An alligator skull still covered in flesh, cremation boxes, Tom Nisalki's 1971 NBA Championship ring, which had been stolen from him 12 years before showing up at the MRC. I don't know who Tom Nisalki is, but listeners might. The MRC is also one of the few places where postal workers are actually allowed to open mail to help them look for clues as to where the items or letters belong. Dan says that it's the job in part of the MRC employees to make their best guess about what belongs with what and send it on its way.

They have to try to put pieces together. They're sloos in their own way.

In their own way. Don't condescend to the MRC, Agent Michalco. If Dan is right, the original package the photos came in with the original address might still be sitting somewhere at the MRC. I phone up the person in charge to ask.

This is the manager, Lionel Snow.

Hi, Lionel. My name is Stevie Lane, and I'm a radio journalist. Do you have a moment so I can tell you why I'm calling?

Not really. I mean, I don't have a lot of conversation time to talk with customers.

Nevertheless, I tell him about the mix-up.

Anything could have happened. Anything could have happened. I mean, I couldn't tell you.

Lionel tells me that contrary to Dan Michalco's theory, Jordan's package likely never made it to the MRC. If it had, it would probably have a special stamp on it, which Jordan's package doesn't. I ask if he has any other guesses, but he just keeps swipping out his favorite phrase.

Anything could have happened. Anything could have happened. I could make an educated guess or not.

When I press, the answer is or not. Anything could have happened. Jordan had likened the mail system to avoid into which we send stuff and from which that stuff emerges. But it appears it's also a void into which I send my questions and from which nothing emerges. Over a number of weeks, I reach out to more people at the USPS in the communications department, the historian's office, even the postal museum.

It is a mystery. I can't really guess. We have 160 million addresses in the US. Could have come from any one of them.

Nobody is able to help. I've hit a dead end with the post office, so I turn to the only other information that I have, the photos themselves. Is there a way to identify the people in these photographs? There's a photo of someone's pet cat, but it doesn't have a collar with a tag. There's a graduation, but it doesn't show the name of the school. There's one photo of a man sitting in a restaurant holding up a signed headshot of what looks like a younger version of himself. The headshot is signed Dr. Pedro something, MD. But after hours of Photoshop sharpening, I still can't read what that something is. For every photo, I'm just one small piece of information away from cracking the case. Every photo, except for one. The photo is the oldest in the bunch, a creased and faded Polaroid. In it, a man crouches in the grass, supporting a baby in plad overalls, barely old enough to walk. The baby is looking down at a dog rolling over on its back, playfully, while the man pets its stomach. No one is aware of the camera. It seems to be capturing a private moment.

And when you flip the photo over, there's something written on the back. Dallin, Kelly, and Queenie, it says in all caps. Ike grandparents, Coxes. Kelly, nine and a half months. D Allen, Kelly and Queenie, grandparents, Coxes. After googling around, I find a number for a D Allen Cox in California.

Hello.

Hi, is this D Allen?

This is.

I'd called a few days before and left a message.

I'm just really curious what this is all about, honestly. I have no idea.

How it'd.

Be involved in anything that you would be looking into.

I explain about the package of photos Amy received about one in particular of a man with a child and a dog with an inscription on the back. It says, D Allen, Kelly, and Queenie at grandparents' Coxes. Kelly, nine and a half months.

That's crazy. Yeah, that's crazy. That would be my dad. Yeah.

Huh. Yeah, it sounds like it.

Might be my dad and my sister, Kelly.

D Allen's dad is D Allen's senior. D Allen suggests I give him a call to see if the photo belongs to him. Hello?

I.

Tell D Allen senior all about the photo of him and his daughter, Kelly. Then I texted over to him. All right, here comes.

Yeah, I don't beat you. All right. Well, that would have been from 1967, probably, or '68. She'd have been about nine months old, I would say, at that time.

Obviously.

Is standing up a little bit, but she walked early age like that. Yeah, that's really something. No, I don't have that picture in my collection. In fact, I don't recall ever having seen it before. Kelly was born in June of '67, and actually she passed away in March of last year.

Kelly died on March 30th, 2021. The package with Kellyie's photo was postmarked April seventh, 2021, just one week after she died.

That just makes it really strange.

Kelly died unexpectedly of heart failure at the age of 53. It was a shock to her family.

Everybody loved her laugh. When she laughed, it was just really unique and an enthusiastic laugh. I remember taking her with me to Lake one weekend and she learned to water ski, and she was having a ball. My dad used to take Kelly at that age when she was about a year old, down to the lake and they would feed the ducks. He'd take breadcrumbs and they'd throw them to the ducks. And she got so excited to do that. That was her favorite thing to do.

Dylan senior doesn't recognize the handwriting on the back of the photograph, but he wonders if it belongs to Kelly's mother, his ex-wife, Betty. Betty had been sick and unable to make it to Kelly's funeral. Maybe she put it in the mail hoping it would arrive for the service. When I phoned Betty, she doesn't remember the photo, but she tells me that she did indeed mail a package of photos to her granddaughter, Devon. Devon is Kelly's daughter.

This is Devon.

I called Devon to see if I ended up with the photos that her grandma tried to send her.

No, I did get a package of photos from my grandmother.

Huh. Devon got the photos from Betty in a package that was firmly sealed. And the photo of Kelly and Dahlin, that one wasn't in there. Devon says she's never seen it before. As for the rest of the photographs Amy received.

I don't recognize any of the people.

None of them, huh?

No.

D Allen Jr, D Allen Senior, and Betty all said the same thing when I sent them the photos. Somehow then, it seems this photograph, along its journey through the mail, wound up with 43 other images of other random families. Devon can't tell me anything about those other families, but she does tell me about her own. Her mom, Kelly, got pregnant with her when she was in college. Kelly wasn't prepared to take care of a child. Soon after Devon was born, Dahlin's senior, Devon's grandfather, took Devon in and raised her as his daughter.

I know that my mom had mental health issues, and it took over my mom's life in many ways. There were many instances in my mom's life where she didn't have the power to take care of me. There were many years that passed by, and I had nothing to do with my mom. I didn't know where she was. I didn't hear from her. I was unsure if she was even alive. I've had a hard time growing up believing that my mom loved me.

But, Devon tells me, in the last seven or eight years before her mom's death, that changed. Devon was in her mid-20s, and without explanation, seemingly overnight, Kelly started reaching out more. She would come over to help Devon with projects around the house, like painting cabinets. The two of them spent hours sitting together on the couch playing Delta.

I felt like I had my mom. I finally had my mom. I was an adult, but at least I had my mom. Two weeks before she passed, my mom, just out of the blue, said, Do you want to go out and go do something together? I was like, I don't know. Where do you want to go? She's like, What about that place that has mini golf and go carts? I was like, Okay, then let's go. I hang on to that moment. Somehow I feel like she knew that she wasn't going to be around for very long and she was trying to spend more time with me and trying to do things with me.

As for the photograph and the strange circumstances of its appearance.

I don't feel like it's weird. I just think that it fits my mom's personality to do something like that.

How do you mean it fits her personality to do something like?

She believed that there's something beyond death. I've never believed in ghosts or anything or anything after you pass. But if there is something there, my mom would definitely do something like this.

You think that this is almost like a missive from your mom?

Yeah, I think that's possible. I feel like this is her trying to say, I'm still here.

In Jordan's book, she writes that in thin places, quote, Invisible things like music or love or dead people might become visible. Or if they don't become visible, they become so present and tangible that it doesn't matter. Like Devon, I'm not one to believe in ghosts. Yet after talking with everyone, I still don't know where the photo of Kelly came from. No one in Kelly's family can account for it. After months of searching, the origins of this photo are still a mystery. But in what I see as a series of unexplainable events that began with Jordan sending a book and ended up here, Devon sees her mother, and it's precisely the unlikeliness of the that she points to as proof.

I just think if you look at all of the little pieces of how this happened, not just anybody would have reached out and tried to find the owner of a photo. I think it would have been tossed in the trash or pushed aside. I feel like it's like a treasure from my mom. That's how I feel. My mom placed it there on purpose and got it into the right hands that would reach out to me.

I'd been thinking of this as a story about mail going to the wrong place. But listening to Devon, I wonder if it's actually a story about it going to the right one, to Amy. Yet because the photo wound up in Amy's hands, Devon didn't get it for an entire year after Kelly's death. If Kelly wanted Devon to have the photo, why deliver it a year late? Why now?

There have been times where I've really needed somebody to be in my house with me. Out of everybody in my family and out of all of my friends, my mom would drop anything to come and support me. When she passed, I didn't have that safety net anymore. I had trouble at my job and I had to take extra time off. But if she's still here, that makes a difference. It's not easy losing a mom.

So.

Having this feeling that she's still here and she's still with me is amazing.

Right after a loss, there are lots of people to lean on. But as time passes and people return to their lives, you begin to feel that loss in a new way. Houses get cleaned out, clothes get donated, and all evidence of the person fades away. With the photo, though, Kelly has come back to Devon a year late, but perhaps right on time. Devon's grandfather, Dallin senior, is turning 75 soon. Devon told me that they're throwing him a big party. She's been working on his birthday present for months, a new family photo album. Along with all the photographs she's collected, she wants to include this one, Safe Among the Other Smiling Faces of Kelly's family members, where, surely, it won't be lost again. Now

that the furniture is returning to its goodwill home. Now that the last month's rent is scheming with the.

Damaged deposit, take this moment to decide if.

We.

Meant.

It if we tried. But felt around for far too much. From things that accidentally touched. This episode of Heavyweight was produced by me, Stevie Lane, along with Jonathan Goldstein, Phoebe Flanagan, and Mohini McGauker. Our senior producer is Kalila Holt. Special thanks to Alex Bloomberg, Mimi O'Donnell, Lauren Silverman, Maureen Taylor, Estelle Ivory, and all the incredibly patient people over at the USPS. Editorial guidance from Emily Kandin. Bobby Lord mixed the episode with original music by Christine Fellows, John K. Samson, Blue Dot Sessions, Sean Jacob, and Bobby Lord. Additional music credits can be found on our website, gimletmedia. Com/heavyweight. Our theme song is by The Weaker Thens, courtesy of Epitaph Records. Amy has just written a new book, Artificial, a graphic memoir about her father's efforts to preserve her late grandfather's identity using AI technology. You can find it at your local bookstore. Heavyweight is a Spotify original podcast. Follow us on Twitter @heavyweight on Instagram @Hevyweight Podcast, or email us @heavyweight@gimletmedia. Com. You can follow our show on Spotify and tap the bell to receive notifications when new episodes drop, and one will drop next week.

Hello, Stevie's dad speaking.

Oh, that was nice. Okay, great. Estelle, thank you so much. Hey, what did you.

Show about anyway?