My Horrifying Stalker Experience Meine entsetzliche Stalker-Erfahrung Mi horrible experiencia con un acosador Mon expérience horrifiante de harcèlement La mia orribile esperienza di stalker 私の恐ろしいストーカー体験 나의 끔찍한 스토커 경험 Mijn angstaanjagende stalkerervaring Moje przerażające doświadczenie z prześladowcą A minha horrível experiência com um perseguidor Мой ужасающий опыт с преследователем Korkunç Sapık Deneyimim Мій жахливий досвід переслідування 我的恐怖跟踪经历 我的恐怖跟蹤者經歷

- [Woman] Once upon a time, in my not-so-distant past,

I had a stalker.

This is that story. Esta é a história.

Okay, so, as you can see, or not see, I guess,

I'm going to be anonymous for this video. ||||गुमनाम|||

This was a pretty scary time for me,

so, I think it's just best if we do it this way.

(breathes) Here we go. (साँस लेता है)|||

So, one day, I'm eating at this restaurant,

and this guy comes up to me.

"Have you ever thought about modeling?" he asks,

and we get to talking.

Whatever image you have in your head of this person,

you're probably right.

Two words, sunglasses inside.

Let's call him John.

He explains that he works for a local modeling agency.

He shows me their website, looks legit,

and he says that I should think about joining.

To be honest, modeling was something

I had always considered pursuing,

so, I decided to hear him out.

After all, isn't this how people get discovered?

In my head, I'm thinking,

even if this guys isn't legitimate, |||||authentic

plain and simple, I just don't work with him.

John doesn't have a business card,

so, he asks for my number.

Harmless enough, I think, so, I give it to him.

"We'll be in touch," he says, and then, he leaves.

A few days go by and via text, we arrange

to meet up again to talk about the specifics

for how this whole modeling thing would work.

Okay, this is where things start

to get a little bit strange.

We meet in a coffee shop, I sit down,

and I see a stack of papers sitting next to him.

Okay, so to get started, we'll need to get you a comp card.

No professional model can show up to a casting

without a comp card, I can set you up with a photographer,

blah, blah, blah, blah.

For those of you who are unfamiliar with the modeling world,

a comp card is basically a model's business card.

To quickly backtrack to anyone who is watching

who's like, what are you doing?

Get out of there, I did do some research beforehand.

Apparently, there's a common scam for models,

where someone says they'll make you a comp card,

but then, the photographer will charge you

a bunch of money for the pictures.

So, in my head, I'm thinking,

I know what's going on here.

If they need photos from me,

I can just get a photographer friend

to take them for free.

"Actually, you know what?" he says suddenly.

"There's a casting call for a shoot right now. "Há um casting para uma sessão fotográfica neste momento.

"We should definitely go."

I'm like, no, I can't right now, talking my way out of it.

Also, I didn't even have a comp card yet.

John was already contradicting himself.

Okay, well, here's a contract, you can go ahead

and sign it, and we'll just look for more casting calls.

I look over the papers, my name is already filled

into the contract, and it's spelled wrong,

not to mention, it's a two-year contract,

and, to top it all off, the name of the agency

was completely different than the name

he originally told me.

My bad vibes meter is off the charts. O meu medidor de más vibrações está fora da escala.

I just need to get out of there.

I explain that all the info is wrong,

we can't do this right now.

I try to leave, but he keeps pressuring me

about this contract.

I'll send you a fixed version, what's your address?

(brooding music) I give him my email.

No, your address.

Okay, so, at this point in my life,

I was doing a lot of freelance work

that involved invoices, so, I was constantly giving people

my address to send checks to.

So, you know, up to this point,

I was just like, you can have my address,

and you can have my address, everyone can have my address.

So, I did it, I gave him my address.

I leave the coffee shop, I go home,

and I look up the company that was on the contract.

The website is so bad, like, comically bad. ||||||ridiculously|

I send the URL to a friend of mine, |||link to check|||||

who is actually a model, and she basically tells me

to never talk to this guy ever again. para nunca mais falar com este gajo.

I was officially done with seeing where this goes. Estava oficialmente farto de ver onde isto ia dar.

Over the next few days, I get a few texts

from John trying to schedule a time

to get my comp card pictures taken.

I don't respond at first, but he keeps contacting me.

I say that I'm sick, and that I won't be able

to do it right now.

Enter a new character in the story.

We should call her Diana.

I start to get emails from Diana.

She works for this agency.

They need my measurements and are asking

when I can get started.

I don't answer any of these.

I'm just trying to distance myself,

thinking that maybe they'd lose interest in me.

About a week goes by, I get a photographer friend

to take pictures of me for my own comp card. para me tirar fotografias para o meu cartão de identificação.

I actually don't hear from John or Diana for a few days.

Okay, finally, some breathing room here. Finalmente, há aqui algum espaço para respirar.

One day, I'm home alone, hanging in my apartment, Um dia, estava sozinho em casa, pendurado no meu apartamento,

just watching TV.

Suddenly, there's a noise coming from the front door,

like, someone's trying to open it.

No knocking. (doorknob clicking)

Just the turning of the doorknob.

I freeze, someone is trying to get into my apartment.

My heart is pounding, my eyes are glued to the front door.

After what feels like an eternity, the noise stops.

I think they're gone, but then,

I hear a slow, quiet, rustling. |||||Rauschen

A single sheet of paper is being slid

under the door.

I hear the person walk away--

(footsteps tapping) And they're gone.

I could barely move, but I eventually Mal me conseguia mexer, mas acabei por

summoned up the courage to go pick up the paper. reuni coragem para ir buscar o jornal.

It's a sheet of, like, notebook paper,

and on it, is a handwritten note.

It's from the agency and it's how they haven't heard

from me in a while and need to get in contact

with me, so we can book more modeling gigs comigo, para podermos marcar mais trabalhos de modelo

and stop losing money.

This has 1,000% gone too far.

I wait a little while and then, I decide

that I'm gonna text John.

I don't work for you, please leave me alone.

He acts like nothing happened.

He jumps right into other casting calls,

and how I still need a comp card.

Enough with the comp card!

I tell him, my friend already took pictures of me,

stop contacting me.

In the meantime, I needed to tell my roommates

what was happening.

Within a day or two, my photographer friend gets an email.

It's from a completely new person,

so, I guess we can just call her Regina.

To paraphrase, the email says, leave my name alone.

Are you kidding me?

I have no idea how they got my friend's email

or why they told her to leave me alone.

Now, I'm getting really mad.

Leave my friend out of this, I never had

nor ever will work for you.

I have almost no doubt that John is behind

all of these emails and every time I would stand up to him, todos esses e-mails e sempre que eu o enfrentava,

it seemed that a new, fake person would just pop up.

Days go by, I'd be home with my roommates,

and there would be random knocks

on our front door. (hand knocking)

We were scared to get our mail or even take out the trash.

To be honest, I was scared to walk alone at night.

I eventually receive an email from John,

telling me I'm fired.

He also told me to stop contacting him.

I, for one, have never been fired

from a job that I never worked at.

So, that was a first.

In the meantime, I finally decide to tell my mom.

I was hesitant to up to this point,

because I knew that she wouldn't take it lightly. porque eu sabia que ela não ia aceitar isso de ânimo leve.

I kept a lot of this to myself

because it was confusing, maybe a little bit embarrassing,

and, above all, really scary.

I needed a support system to beat this guy.

So, I tell my mom, and, of course, she's freaking out,

and is like, we need to report him.

I'm still getting emails from John and Diana,

telling me that I'm fired.

In fact, this was literally every day.

Okay, now, this last part of the story

gets a little confusing,

if you weren't already confused enough.

One day, I get a new email from this girl, Regina.

If you can't keep track, this is the girl

who told my friend to leave me alone.

The email says, is someone named John harassing you?

Because it's happening to me too,

and I think we should work together to stop this.

Wait, what?

I answer by saying, I want to believe you, but I don't.

She tells me that John is using her identity

to harass other people with fake emails. |||लोगों को||नकली|

She also tells me that John isn't even his real name. ||||||नहीं है||||

To her, he was going by a completely different name. |||||||पूरी तरह से||

Between John, fake John, Diana, fake Regina,

I don't even know who to believe. |नहीं जानता हूँ|||||विश्वास करना

But she tells me she'll prove that she's real ||||वह साबित करेगी||||

via a video call.

I decide to take her up on it, Decidi aceitar a proposta dela,

and it turns out, she is real. (vocalizes) e, afinal, ela é real. (vocaliza)

Just a regular person like me

who got caught up in some weird entertainment scam. ||||||अजीब|| que foi apanhado num estranho esquema de entretenimento.

She was so nice and we actually got to bond

over how crazy this whole experience is.

We both agreed to contact the police and stop this

once and for all.

The next day or so, after talking with real Regina,

my friends, and my family,

I take my story to the police.

You can't see my face right now, but I am rolling my eyes.

They weren't able to do anything, nothing!

I tell them about the emails, the texts,

the coming to my apartment, well, he never came

into your apartment, so, there's nothing we can do.

What, do you want me to invite him inside for tea?

To be honest, I was pretty defeated by this.

I thought I had this figured out, Pensei que já tinha percebido isto,

but they wouldn't even listen to my full story.

A few days go by, my roommates and I are still

on high alert, especially after not getting

any help from the police.

One day, my roommate is taking out her laundry

to the laundromat. ||laundry facility

She closes the front door behind her

and notices a parked car outside of our apartment building.

There's two men in the car.

Now, I had told my roommates what John looks like

so that they would know what to look out for.

It was him, it was John.

He was in the car, parked outside of our apartment

with another random person by his side.

Thankfully, my roommate immediately recognizes him,

drops her laundry, and whips out her phone, larga a roupa suja e saca do telemóvel,

to try to get a picture of his license plate.

They notice what she's doing, and then, they speed off.

After that, I never heard a single thing from him again.

Not from him, not from Diana, not from fake Regina,

nothing.

To anyone who's worried, I've since moved apartments, Para quem está preocupado, mudei de apartamento,

and am feeling safe again.

Did I think any of this terrifying stuff

was going to happen to me?

Of course not.

Did I make some mistakes along the way?

Absolutely.

Was it my fault, though?

During the beginning of this whole experience,

I didn't really take it seriously.

I thought I could just ignore it enough for it to go away,

and it ended up turning into something

that put myself, my friends, my roommates,

and my family at risk.

I've always been a very independent person,

rarely asking for help or rarely admitting

when I feel unsafe or scared.

It took a lot for me to admit those feelings |||||||confess||

and tell others what had happened.

To anyone who's watching this,

please be careful, watch out for yourself,

and if you ever find yourself in a similar situation,

please tell someone.

(dramatic music)