The stories I share on this site are from people who I know personally, who I’ve met IRL or as part of the stories I am sent via the site and social media.
Looming behind many missteps is the threat of creepiness behind each of their stories, but sometimes, there’s a story that is not only tragic, but makes you realise how sick people out there can be.
To those people, there’s a special place in Hell for you.
This following story is a tragic one and hits home to me personally.
I had the honour of knowing a boy named Aaron. He was an impressionable 18-year-old with a bright future ahead of him.
Aaron had Asperger’s syndrome and was extremely clever. I didn’t know him directly but he was a young man who could just work things out. It was a talent I wish I had, just being able to have such the advance analytical ability he had to problem solving.
But it went so much beyond that as you could imagine. Anything he applied himself to, he would learn the ins and outs and his brain just did it. He could be a body builder and based on however it worked, he could do it, it’s just the way his brain worked.
Of course, with such talent, he was great with IT and probably would have advanced well in this field, if not something much more higher-yielding.
On June 13, 2016, Aaron was reported missing by his mother. I remember that Monday clearly and I remember feeling the dread his family felt when Aaron didn’t return home that day.
I didn’t sleep for 10 days after. Nobody did. Anyone who knew the boy and the family were on high alert and helping in any way they could.
The police searched the streets, retracing all known routes Aaron had been known to take as he only took busses and trains.
And on the 10th day, Aaron was found.
The Major Crime Squad had found Aaron’s body in a shallow grave underneath poorly laid concrete and tiles and some traupalin.
The house belonged to a boy he was friends with for some time.
My heart sank when I learned the news. Aaron’s family were beyond consolable. How do you comfort someone, when you too are suffering from the same loss?
How do you find the right words to say to make it better when there are no words to be said?
So for Aaron’s sake, we needed to bring him justice. Who ever put them in that grave and who ever tried to hide his body from us like that needed to suffer the same fate, or at least punished by the full extent of the law.
The boy’s mother, Trudi had used her son to invite Aaron over so they could hang out by phone. She had done this a few times before so it wasn’t unusual as his friend rarely had credit on his pre-paid SIM card.
Aaron was greeted by Trudi at the door and invited in.
He was welcomed into the house but as soon as he entered, Jemma crept up behind Aaron with a garotte and fatally stabbed.
That’s all we know from the autopsy results.
Jemma and Trudi each have their own accounts from what happened that day, but Jemma bragged about their killing to colleagues at work.
We attended every court hearing.
That’s when I learned of how the police came to find Aaron.
A colleague from Jemma’s workplace came forward to police after Jemma had jokingly told him that she had finally killed someone and how hard it was.
He particularly felt unsettled at how detailed her retelling of her events were and what he knew about her.
The colleague explained that Jemma was obsessed with serial killers, horror and death, and had mentioned several times of becoming a serial killer herself.
This sickened me to my stomach. The fact that someone could be kill someone to act out some ludicrous fantasy is beyond astounding.
They were found guilty and are servicing life sentences in prison. If you ask me, it’s not enough.
RIP Aaron Pajich.