The AbandonedPrison at 1776 Buckley Lane

INTRO:

Hello constant listener. While we are now very much past the usual time of year for observing horrific encounters of the unexplainable, I personally love hearing scary stories all year round. In that, I also hope you’ll continue to join me as Copper Shock grows.

I love learning about odd or interesting facts of history, especially if it has to do with crime. I couldn’t tell you why my fascination for it runs so deeply, so when a friend who knew me very well asked me to google the name of a photographer, I was pleasantly surprised by what I found. Beautifully brutal and violent images of murders in a victorian setting. The way the photos were angled felt less clinical and more about evoking an emotion of sympathy for the dead. The juxtaposition of a cold body on the floor of a warm and lush-looking home. I began to research more about this photographer.

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You’ll hear people say his name as Bertillion, but the french pronunciation of a double “L” has a “yuh” sound. (welcome to view this youtube video spoken in french to confirm. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aBRkukpVISg) the photographer in question is Alphonse Bertillion.

Alphonse started as a copyist in the 1860’s, which is a fancy term for a human xerox machine. Not to belittle his position, for at the time it was an important job for record-keeping. But as you can imagine that’s not what he is remembered for. As a copyist at his local police headquarters,  he saw the farce of rounding up suspects for a crime. And the same suspect, again, and again… and again. Even after that person had been cleared.

While I do believe authorities of that era were doing their best, I also now believe investigators in charge of finding Jack the Ripper had a heinous time catching him, not because he was a genius but because they were hellishly unorganized. The fact is, police had no systematic way of narrowing down suspects. 

That seems dumb right? It very common to re-arrest someone without having remembered if you’d arrested them before and then let them go. The most likely record an authority would write down is a man’s name. Introductions are not exactly the first piece of information given when you are being mugged, and criminals would often give fake names anyway. Pictures were not common for lower-class criminals. What pictures police would obtain were always very poor quality. Alphonse saw this chaos all the time, and decided to do something about it because frankly, he had a different way of looking at things. Calling Alphonse an “odd duck” was kind of putting it mildly.  On record, an acquaintance once described Alphonse as “Not in possession of his full faculties.” and that it was “... his moonstruck eyes, his sepulchral voice, the saturnine magnetism" that made him feel like he was "... in the presence of a necromancer." Alphonse didn’t just look at the data, he wanted to construct consistent pieces of the puzzle to help complete investigations. He saw details no other investigator thought to consider. He would measure the circumference of a head, the length of your fingers, and keep a meticulous record of these bodily measurements. Easier to identify a man by hair color and height than it was by a fake name.

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This is still known today as the “Bertillion System”, and the last piece of this system is every country knows and universally practice still today after 150 years, is the classic “Mug Shot.” This was born as an idea from Alphonse himself. As he was testing it out there is a “self-portrait” of himself via mug shot. 

But for all the amazing groundbreaking crime observations Alphonse had pioneered up through that point, while influential, over time and technology grew. Technology for photography. Alphonse was the first to entertain the idea of photography in a crime scene. He believed that showing the brutality of murders would bring about a public outcry for justices, and allow for more documentation of the scene as it existed before it deteriorated over time. His photography is graphic. I'll warn you. It is purposefully meant to show the violent aftermath of a murder. Here is a link to a high digital scan of a Parisian crime scene book from 1902: (https://www.metmuseum.org/art/collection/search/284718 )  

This imagery had huge success. And this system expanded into lessons for law enforcement all across Europe. Alphonse continued his work to pioneer other crime fields. Ballistics, Footprints, the degree of a forced breaking and entering, the stoke of how someone penmanship compared to a criminal letter. The importance of remembering the shape of a nose, or a footprint in dirt with a worn shoe sole.

Elementary my dear Watson.

If all of this is starting to sound like Sherlock Holmes, It should. Sir Arthur Conan Doyle based much of his forensic observations on cases Alphonse touched in the 1870s. Sherlock Holmes wouldn’t exist on paper until 1892. 

I’m Tasha Wheelhouse and this is Copper Shock.

BODY:

This was a story of mine that didn’t strike me as frightening until long after.

When I was 23 my personality was similar to what it is now. Introverted. I lived with two very extroverted roommates who loved to go out on the weekends to meet new people. 

Natalie had come up to my bedroom door, knocked once, and let herself in.

“What are your plans for tonight?” She smiled, she knew full well I wasn’t planning on going anywhere.

“I’m just here.” I placed my bookmark in my copy of The Illustrated Man. I had been reading it again for the third time. Natalie proceeded to open my closet door and picked out a shirt from a hangar. She turned around and danced it over her chest then tossed it onto my bed in front of my feet.

“Kenyon invited Mayia and I and told us to bring as many girls as we can to a house party tonight. You’ll look killer in that.” She gestured to the black and white herringbone button down that was now resting limply on my covers.

“I don’t know if I’m up for it.” 

“Noooo come on. Come have fun.” 

I gave a small smile then nodded my head a little.

“Well Alright. I’ll get ready. I’ll need about a half hour for hair and makeup though. So perhaps you guys go ahead and I'll catch up in my own car?”

“Pfft. Why? It’s only 8:45 we probably won’t leave till 9:30 anyway.” And with that Natalie let herself out of my room… With my door open.

I don’t know why that’s always been such a pet peeve of mine. When I’ve specifically left the door shut for privacy to be alone and recharge, then my roommates open it and violate all my personal space. Not drastically so to make me truly deeply upset. Just… peeved. I’ve learned to live with negotiating my unspoken happiness of no social contact to my roommates social obfuscation that everything needs to be shared and in an open space.

I will admit though I remember thinking that particular night that I was in want of human contact. Humans that were not named Natalie and Mayia. For while they meant well, it was always tinted with a selfish meaning of wellness. They invited me not exactly wanting my company, but because a guy Maiya was aiming for had contracted her to bring another set of boobies to the party. 

I got dressed, did my hair and makeup and as vain as it sounds. I looked into the mirror that night and remember feeling good about how I looked. I felt a surge of confidence swell in my chest and smiled. My long black hair had loose beach curls that framed my face in a way I liked, and for once my eyeliner wings were even. 

I came down the stairs Natalie and Mayia both waiting on the couch in the living room. 

“Lets gooooo.” Mayia said pushing herself up off the couch. 

“I’m gonna follow in my own car.”

“Absolutely not. Part of the deal is that we tell each other about what went down at the party together after the night is over.” Natalie hooked a playful arm around my neck pushing toward the garage door. The one thing I did know about my “Extroverted Tank'' is that it ran dry after only a few hours. I’d always joked that at Midnight I turn into a pumpkin again because I couldn’t really hack staying up that late without becoming cranky or just so tired. But the three of us filed into Mayia’s silver 2 door car. I sat in the back while the two of them sat up front. As we drove Natalie and Mayia would argue about what music to play, but once a song hit they could agree on they’d holler at one another and start to scream the lyrics out loud. I joined in for a few songs from the back seat. I knew the general layout of Provo Utah. After a few years of either attending BYU or UVU the college kids my age all have a general idea of what apartment complex was where.

“Natalie, where did Kenyon say this was again?”
“He didn’t, I just have an address.” She held up her phone to gesture that the information would be on her screen if she decided to summon it. I nodded and sat back into my seat. A few minutes later we parked on the street.

I remember walking into the house party and smelling a wave of sweaty humidity. It may have only been 10:02pm but the house was full of people moving together in a massive throng to the beat, lights were off save for some strobes, and the music wasn’t just blasting it was pulsing from the massive speakers that had to have been rented out for the night. Natalie and Mayia both started to twitch and wave their arms above their head as they disappeared into the small intimate crowd of dancers. Yes, they saw the dance in the living room and immediately left me behind. I sighed, it was typical. I diverted over into a massive kitchen with a marble kitchenette island about 7 feet long. The house was practically a mini mansion. 

There were red solo cups everywhere, but I didn’t feel much like getting something to drink anyway. I’m not much of a drinker, the taste is too bitter, and I don’t like the feeling of not being in my full faculties. I know, I’m a stick in the mud. You’re not the first person to tell me. There were groups of people standing around the kitchen, some with a cup in hand others just with their arms crossed. There was a door behind them that led out onto the patio that descended to a large yard with a small brook and massive trees. 

I walked down the patio stairs toward a small fire pit. There was a set of sad looking and mismatched lawn chairs around it. I found a chair and sat down looking into the lit fire. I love staring at how the flames licked at the dark air and smoke above it.  Three strangers, three men specifically started to descend the stairs. One was polynesian, the second one wore a flat brimmed cap, and the third a handsome but at the same time plain looking guy in a black jacket. 

“May we?” Flatbrim said as he sat down before waiting for my invitation.

“Yeah of course.”

The three of them continued to wrap up a prior conversation they were having before approaching the fire, but when they did reach a lull in their conversation the polynesian turned to me with a large smile.

“So what’s your name? Do you know Anna or Bryce?” I raised an eyebrow. I barely knew Kenyon, everyone at this party seemed to be a friend, of a friend, of a friend. 

“I don’t sorry. Do you know Kenyon?”

“Nope.”

I gave a small nodd. There is going to be a sum zero of people at this party I would remotely even be associated too. So I did the next best trick an introvert knows how to do. I asked the three gentleman their name and what are they studying. If an introvert like me can keep someone else talking it means I need to come up with less subjects to talk about, also I’ve found that people love to talk about themselves. 

“I’m Kai.” The polynesian gave a broad smile and pointed to himself. “That’s Hooper.” He pointed to the guy wearing a black coat. “And that’s Todd.” He pointed to the flatbrimmer. 

“Good to meet all of you, I”m Kate.”

“So, What do you like to do?”

As I’ve lived in Utah long enough I know the popular social answers should be one of the following four:

• Hiking
• Longboarding
• Rock Climbing
• Boating

If you live in Utah and don’t love the great outdoors there’s a slight chance of being seen as a social pariah. But since I didn’t know any of these guys and didn’t think I’d ever see them again I gave them an honest answer.
“I like to read horror fiction, sometimes sci fi, but more horror.”

“Seems like the perfect thing for a night next to a fire pit.” said Hooper.

“Got any scary stories to tell?” Kai lit up and leaned forward in his chair. 

“I know a couple, but I’m sure they’re ones everyone here has heard. What about you guys? Any good scary stories?”

Todd playfully raised his hand and looked to Kai and Hooper. “Guys I have one. But we can’t do it here.” I raised my eyebrow. “Hold on I got an idea!” Todd hopped out from his chair and bounded back up the patio steps and into the house again. I looked to Kai and Hooper with slight confusion. 

“So, does Todd do that often, just run off?”

“Yeah, Todd’s a weird dude.” Hooper gave a cheeky smile to Kai and shrugged. After that I don’t remember what we talked about for the next 15 minutes, but it was right after that I remember Todd came back. This time he was wearing his light jacket like he was getting ready to leave.

“Ok guys, I got it arranged and we’ve got three cars organized to go. Including my car.”

“Todd what are you talking about?” Hooper asked.

“I’m talking about the ultimate freaky place of Provo Utah. The abandoned prison, have you ever been inside?”

I felt a flip happen in my stomach. The excitement of seeing a derelict prison sounded amazing. But also a dangerous notion. There’s no way going to an abandoned prison in the dead of night was ever going to be a good idea.

“I had no idea Provo had an abandoned prison.” I said.

“So? Come one guys let's go!”

“I better not. But I appreciate the invite.”

I looked past Todd’s shoulder and saw Natalie and Mayia walking down the patio stairway. “Kate! (my name) We’re gonna check out the prison, let's go. I’ll tell you about it on the way.” Thanks Todd I bitterly thought to myself. Out of the tens of college kids in that house partying he sweet talked my roommates into this idea. This was 2011 so Uber or Lyft hadn’t come into vogue yet for Utah. I’d be pretty stranded at this strangers house if I told them to leave without me. I stood up and offered a hand to Hooper.

“Well? Lets ride.” I said optimistically. Hooper grabbed my arm to pull himself up. But in truth, I felt a lead weight in my stomach. 

It was a bit of a drive, and it was surprisingly nestled into a very tidy and nice neighborhood. It rested up against the rising mountain face of Mount Timpanogos. It’s strange, but I remember thinking this prison has a decent view of the valley. We parked three streets up from the prison itself. We were to walk down.

In the light of the streetlamps I saw Todd with a small group of others whom I also didn’t know. In total there were about 12 of us together walking down the main street. Walking toward Buckley Lane. We walked past a large and expensive looking elementary school.

“Hey guys.” I heard Todd give a sharp whisper back to the group of us “Come look at this for a second.” He veered from the main street onto the parking lot of the elementary school. The chainlink fence at the edge of the asphalt lot had a steep 40 foot drop down to the concrete of the prison exterior. The Elementary school parking lot was built higher up on the hill overlooking the roof of the prison. The compound was large, while it was the middle of the night, my eyes could work out just enough detail to understand how big of a building this was.

I looked over again and saw my group was walking away back down. I quietly caught up. Then I heard Todd say “Ok. No talking after this point. Folks in the neighborhood watch for people breaking in and call the cops all the time, so everyone, be as invisible as possible.”

We walked almost single file in utter silence. There was a large pine tree that grew on the exterior of the chain link fence round the front of the prison. And in a very specific spot I would not have seen it if it weren’t for Todd’s direct instruction, but there was a tidy break in the chainlink that almost looked like the fence was still laced together just fine. Hooper came up behind me and gave a playful poke in my side. I nearly screamed from surprise but instead took a sharp gasp of air. My adrenaline shot up as I came back down from it I gave Hooper a glaring stare. He smiled and walked past me through the front door. 

The front lobby was on the Small-ish side to me. There was a front desk with large gaps where windows should have been. Every window had been completely smashed in. Glass was everywhere on the floor. I was fairly glad I went with my heel height boots, and not my strappy sandals. We rounded the first opened door that led to where the desk chair would have been. Right beyond the desk was a door with formally painted word that read “Booking.” 

I felt a surge come through me as I read the spray painted words below it read “Here you become a number .” I couldn’t shake the feeling that it felt like a warning. I was careful where I stepped. I could feel the way the glass would crunch under my sole and I kept wondering if I stepped on it at a wrong angle could it just come up through my shoe and cut me open? However, the glass issue became less and less as we walked further into this concrete belly of a beast. There was a long hallway with a series of doors. Some still remained totally locked, but others were burst wide open. There were even still papers strewn about. There were so many swastika symbols drawn on the wall everywhere. The drop ceiling boards were busted out in many places exposing the roof and old electrical wiring above it. One of the offices spaces we passed had a burnt brown carpeting and wooden bevelled baseboards. A sanyo 1980’s survey Television had its screen smashed out and thrown out the window to the concrete just outside.  It smelled awful in here. I’m positive there had to be some sort of mold. The way some of the discoloration dripped down the walls was unsettling. 

I think the idea was for Todd to get to a certain point he liked and then tell whatever ghosty story he wanted.

As our group walked we passed a familiar looking room I’d seen on TV and in movies. I don’t know the actual term, but I nicknamed it the “conversation room”. This had rows of stools bolted into the floor and a plexiglass divider between where visitors and convicts could talk to one another.

Natalie and Maiya were fairly freaked out. The only reason I knew that is because they were being very quiet and holding on to each other. Another girl grabbed my arm while looking backward into the dark hallway we’d just strolled. I didn’t know her at all, but I think she was reaching thresholds that made her more afraid than entertained. I kindly grabbed her hand wrapped on my arm and said “I’m Kate.”

“Bailey.” 

“Are you doing ok?” 

“I swear I heard something behind us.”

“Welp, you know the saying?”

“Which one?” She let go of my arm taking a deep breath.

“You don’t need to run the fastest, just be faster than the slowest person. Also… Never be the last in line.” 

She and I smiled and immediately picked up the pace and walked into the middle of the group. At the end of a few hallways it opened up into what looked like holding cells. The bars were painted a wine red, a reminiscent color of the 70-80’s interior designs no doubt. There was one door that looked very different from all the others. A large red metal door that slid to the left like a barn door. It was a door to the exterior. An enclosed cement area with an open sky. Glass was all over the place here too. There was another red metal sliding door on the other side of the courtyard. A few in our group got excited and jogged over there to go look. 

I started to get a sinking feeling and stopped in the cement courtyard. Bailey stopped with me and gave me a look. The thought popped into my head so involuntarily that for the first time I felt unease. And that thought was This place was a labyrinth by design. What if we needed to get out quickly? What if the only door was the one we just came through and it gets blocked off by a fire? Or cops are called and we are busted. I didn’t want to enter the other hall across the courtyard.

Hooper picked up on my hesitations.

“Hey, you ok?” he asked me.

I shook my head. 

“I don’t know if I want to be here. I can go back and wait by the cars.” 

“I’d like to do the same.” Bailey chimed in and stepped forward in the conversation. Hooper looked at both of us and said.

“That’s fine I’ll walk you back.” He then turned toward the door having the last person file in. He quietly ran over there and I saw him lean his hand on the door frame as he poked his head around the corner. I could tell he was talking into the hallway. Likely telling Todd where we were going. He walked back over to Bailey and I.

“Ok, lets go.” He stuffed his hands in his black jacket pockets. I felt relief. I didn’t want to go in any further, and I preferred not to go back alone at all. 

We entered the hallway that led out to the courtyard again and I took a confident right. Bailey and Hooper didn’t question and also followed my lead. We all remember that turning right was the correct thing to do. Or so I thought. But as we rounded a corner I saw the hall of jail cells with the wine red metal bars, but something about the layout didn’t feel right. I stopped walking and Bailey passed me continuing. Hooper reached me and stopped.

“Hold up Bailey.” he then turned to address me. “What’s wrong?”

“Does this feel right? Did we come through this way?”

“yeah , yeah I’m sure we did.”

“I don’t remember the layout looking like this is all.”

“We came in from the other direction so i’m sure it just looks different from this angle, it’s dark.”

“Ok sure I buy that.” I shook my head and began walking forward again. 

Bailey was a little more wary after I’d said that and she took up holding onto my arm again. This felt eerie as I could only hear the footsteps from the three of us echo down the hall. We didn’t say much to each other. Frankly a heavy air had set down upon us, and I think all three of us were subconsciously thinking of that as we weaved through halls. It wasn’t until we reached a hall that led down a staircase that I immediately protested.

“Guy’s we were never this far into the building, I don’t think I can go down those stairs.”

Bailey agreed and so did Hooper. But as we turned our back to retrace our steps, the sound of a metal clang rose up from far down the stairwell depths.  Hooper, Bailey and I immediately began to run. We rounded a second hallway corner and ducked into an open jail cell to catch our breath.

“What caused that?” I heard Bailey say with a loss in her breath.

“Don’t know.” Hooper said, the three of us stood there a moment unspeaking. We all had deduced a rational thought about that sound. In an abandoned place where the building has settled over two decades of time, a sudden burst of sound or impact is not lightly discarded. Something or someone had to have created it, and we ran like frightened rabbits. I was beginning to feel myself sweat.

“Do we even know where we are at this point?” Hooper asked with a slight hopelessness to Bailey and I. 

“No clue.” I responded honestly. But then bless Bailey, she actually had an awesome plan.

“Guys I don’t think it’s that complicated, we just need to find a window or that courtyard again to see outside.”

“How is that helpful exactly?” Hooper asked

“This is on mount Timpanogos, where the mountain sits is East. The front door is north-facing, if we can find a way to look outside then we can orient ourselves by where the mountainside is how far over we are from that school and try not to get ourselves further in. It’s a pretty big mountain afterall.” 

She was right, so Hooper and I agreed. At the end of the hall of jail cells was a high mounted window, we tried our best from the ground to see, but it was too dark to really make out pure sky or tell if it’s just a mountain face. We needed to find a window set closer to the ground and not as a glorified skylight. 

Then we heard another clang. The three of us shrunk back into the jail cell. This time the clang didn’t sound like a metal bar getting smacked, this time….

“Guys was that one of the red doors sliding shut?” Bailey asked aloud to no one. I felt a sickness hit me. Yes, I thought. That sounded exactly like the sliding doors we saw earlier. I grabbed Hoopers arm, he didn’t protest. In fact I felt him hug my arm tighter to his side. He was scared too. The three of us sat there quiet in the jail cell… listening to the silence. We even turned off our phone lights. Then, we heard an unusual patter. The sound of feet on cement, not shoes. There wasn’t a soft clack that a heel would have but rather a sound of skin connecting and slightly sticking before the next step was taken. What on earth would make that sound and why are they here?

“It couldn’t be the other group scaring us right?” I whispered to Bailey and Hooper. 

“Totally possible, but I’d rather be sure.” his mouth was so close to my ear when whispering back I could feel the heat of his breath.

The steps in the dark were getting closer, and a light note would ring out as the bars were slapped. Whoever it was was tapping the jail bars like it was a picket fence. There aren’t a lot of jail cells in a hallway, by the way. We were in jail #5 out of #5 and our indecisiveness to move from here would be a mistake at this point to do so. We stayed huddled into the corner of that dirty and molding jail cell. In the dark, just listening and holding on to each other.

Then I heard it. The sound of someone slapping the bars to our cell. It stopped for a moment. I was trying my best to avoid breathing all together. Then it started again, and continued into the next chained hallway of jail cells. The sliding red metal door slid shut at the end of the hallway. I clicked the side of my phone to bring up my locked screen and turned the light way low. I only wanted us to be able to use a haze of light as we backtracked away from that thing making sounds. We curved ourselves through a few more winding halls, and in a miracle saw the cement courtyard. 

We ran out and saw the outline of the sky and mountain ridge to the east, we guessed which door to take back inside and I felt a strange sensation of comfort when I saw “Here you become a number”, this was right by the front door where we first came in. We made our way out, and slipped through the hole in the chain link fence. I’d never been so happy to be on a regular public street. As we walked back up the steep sidewalk to the place where everyone had parked their cars I was surprised to see that Natalie and Maiya were sitting there waiting. Everyone else had apparently already gotten bored from their spelunking. 

“Geez there you guys are.” Natalie said with a slight passive aggressive tone. I didn’t care, Bailey, Hooper and I filed into the back seat. The three of us didn’t want to talk about what happened. Natalie was acting particularly sour.

“What took you forever?” She said, pulling up her phone.

“We get lost.” was all Bailey would say out loud. Hooper and I gave each other a glance then back to the rest of the company in the car.

“It wasn’t long after you three split off that we decided were pretty done too. Turns out a lot of the prison just started to feel like more of the same.”

Yeah no kidding I thought. Apparently for Natalie and Maiya, as they stayed in the bigger grou,p they all had no problem getting back to the cars. As it turns out Natalie took a shine to Todd so she offered to call him when we came out, her subtle way of getting his number. Like I said, my roommates did good things, but always lined themselves with something selfish.  

I later was telling another friend of mine after a class about my experience of getting lost and the sound we heard walking through the dark. He said to me 

“Do you know what that probably was?” His face got stern and turned to face me outright. I shook my head and shrugged.

“That may have been a homeless person. Someone who had been there for a while and knew exactly how to walk about in the dark there. He missed you walking by, but kept shutting the doors behind him so he could hear you trying to escape.”

I sat there staring at him feeling utterly confused in thought. Blood drained from my face. So in looking back it seemed reasonable. After all, my amatuer group had very little trouble entering the place, who's to say that someone who wanted to take up longer term shelter wasn’t hiding. What kind of sport or entertainment is it for idiot college kids like us to wander into his domain? I really didn’t want to think too heavily on it. 

Fact was even after an event like that Hooper, Bailey and I really didn’t get together. We were party acquaintances who held onto each other when the moment was needed, but after that we all went back to being perfect strangers. I do sometimes wonder where they are and how we’re doing, but I don’t think I’ll look for them soon. Cannot think of reconnecting on a facebook DM by saying “hey remember that time we got lost in a cement hellscape and made it out?” icebreaker to be sure, but I don’t think a welcome one.

OUTRO:

Hi there constant listener! Our Copper Shock community is growing and I love it. Don’t hesitate to tell me hi by going over to our Facebook page and sending me a message. If you like our podcast, please leave a review. Your words and action help this community to grow and help other listeners like yourself to discover the Copper Shock podcast. The next episode is an experience my parents told me about recently. We were staying at the Del Coronado in San Diego in 1997. The Del Coronado of the oldest hotels in all of California, and is still active today. It has a host of permanent resident ghosts, but what our family didn’t understand was that our encounter crossed paths with the most famous resident there. Keep an eye posted for the next episode of Copper Shock.