My name is Laine.
At the risk of sounding like a cliche, my kids are my life. I’m a single mom of a 15-year-old and a 12-year-old, and I am still somehow at least partially sane, which I count as a victory.
By day, I’ve worked in customer service for almost 18 years. I like to joke that dealing with the public has destroyed my faith in humanity (although, let’s be honest; is it really a joke?).
I’ve always been interested in the dark side of things. From the earliest age, I loved reading ghost stories, morbid books like the Fear Street series and Christopher Pike novels, and tales of vampires, pirates, monsters, and cryptids. My introduction to true crime came from my aunt’s bookshelf, where I came across more than one crime tale with a sheaf of black and white photo pages in the center. At age 12, I discovered Stephen King (my poor mother), and I’ve never looked back. Bring on the horror movies!
I listen to a ridiculous number of true crime podcasts, watch the usual crime shows and documentaries, and, back in the day, spent far, far too much time perusing TruTV’s online Crime Library (RIP), which is where my interest became a full-blown obsession.
Ever since reading the story of Diane Downs many years ago, I’ve been morbidly fascinated with the cases of parents and caregivers causing harm to their children. Susan Smith. Neil Entwistle. Casey Anthony (I know, I know; she was acquitted; don’t start). Chris Watts. Lacey Spears. Christian Longo. Dee Dee Blanchard. John List. Darlie Routier. This page could be endless if I continued this list. I just don’t understand how anyone could so egregiously spit in the face of our most basic human instinct: protecting our offspring.
I’ve chosen to blog about these cases because these children deserve their stories to be told and their faces to be remembered. I refuse to let them die in vain, choosing instead to publicize their stories in the hope that I may be able to help other children.