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Blink is intended for mature audiences as it discusses topics that can be upsetting, such as drug use, sexual assault, and emotional and physical violence. Content warnings for each episode are included in the show notes. Resources for drug addiction and domestic abuse can be found in the show notes and on our website, blinkthepodcast. Com. The testimonies and opinions expressed by guests of the show are their own and do not necessarily reflect the views of myself or affiliates of this podcast. Any individuals mentioned in the episode are presumed innocent until proven guilty in the court of law unless explicitly stated otherwise. Imagine being told you have six months to live. You have a terminal progressive disease that's eating away at the white matter of your brain. You'll soon lose your ability to speak, walk, feed yourself, and eventually, you'll slip into a coma and die. No one has ever survived this. Surely you won't either. As the months progress, the doctor's warnings come to fruition. You slip into a pseudo coma laying there in total darkness for months. The nurses chat about their bad dates in front of you, flip through television channels, and discuss the certainty that your death will soon be here.

They don't know that you can hear them. They're certain you're no longer in there. Friends and family visit less and less. Now, your only visitor is your wife, a wife who is certain you'll never recover and who begins to whisper strange admissions in your ear. It is here, helpless in your hospital bed, that you realize what may have gotten you here in the first place. The scariest thing in your room is no longer the potential of dying, but rather the person sitting right next to you.

Let's get into this, main.

This is Jake Handle, in the building where he and I first met. We lived in the same apartment complex in Boston. I had walked onto the elevator and asked how he was doing, a cordial hello to a neighbor I didn't know.

Not good.

This raw and honest answer describes Jake well. While Jake didn't feel great in that moment, what he was accomplishing was was miraculous. For the first time in four years, Jake was standing, holding onto his walker, hands gripped and arms strained. The problem being, he was only supposed to go a short distance, and now he was stuck alone in the elevator. After helping him to his apartment and Jake repeating that I saved him, which is certainly a hyperbole, we parted ways. The next time we spoke was two months later, and Jake told me his story. A story involving drug deals, death sentences, medical miracles, and more than one suspected murder attempt. A story of survival with Jake being the only person in the world to ever make it out alive. What happened to Jake was so astonishing, it felt implausible. Every detail trumped the next, and rarely could I predict what was coming. It felt like a Jordan Peel movie, and I just couldn't understand how Jake was now sitting here drinking drinking beers with me on our rooftop and describing his life events with such nonchalance. If what Jake was telling me was true, this could alter the medical world as we know it, change people's lives forever, and unlock the answers to phenomena we don't have explanations for, things we deem supernatural.

I couldn't understand how no one was talking about this, how Jake's face wasn't plastered on the cover of every medical journal, and how his inbox wasn't flooded with inquiries from true crime documentarists. But his story is convoluted. The timeline of events is a bit of a complex web, and the few journalists who have spoken to Jake in the past have sometimes struggled to follow the story. But I needed to know more. And to For the following months, I set out seeking answers. The first question I needed to answer was, how did Jake get here in the first place? This is Blink. I'm your host, Corinne I'm Jake Handle.

This is my story. I noticed my driving was a little off. I used to be a fairly good driver, but I was just I was worrying all the time. I would say to myself, Come on, Jake, pull it together. At this time in my life, I was doing a lot of drugs and a lot of reasons in my life to make me at the wheel or act weird, but this was not baseline at all. And I knew something was wrong, but I was didn't deny it, I guess. I was just avoiding it and didn't even think it was a big deal.

The first time Jake noticed something was off was in May of 2017. Five days later, on May 20th, he woke in a panic, late for work. At the time, Jake was working at a liquor store in Westborough, Massachusetts. He hopped to his feet and began his morning routine.

The first thing I would do before I'd brush my teeth is freebase, a little heroine off tinfoil. I had no time for that. I had to brush my teeth, that was already late. So I hopped in my car and I just, you need that fix when you're that hooked on the substance like this. So I decided I would smoke it while I was driving, which sounds wild, and it is but something I had done hundreds of times. But I was more in a frantic rush to get to work. So I'm driving with my knee, hand in my mouth, lighter under the tinfoil and speeding and brain damaged, which I didn't even know. And I just kept starving. And I'm like, God, what is wrong with you? I kept saying that. And then I looked in my rear view and I noticed there were blue lights.

Jake was no stranger to the police, and this wasn't his first time being pulled over while there were drugs in the car. As he pulls to the side of the road, Jake plans to simply stash away his drugs in the center console, concealing it from police.

As I opened the center console, I'm trying to put the stuff into it. It was like my brain froze, and the connection that my brain was telling to move the arm and the hand to put it away, it wasn't working. So I'm frozen with all this drugs and paraphernalia in my hand as a cop is walking to the window. He didn't even say, Do you know why I pulled you over? He was just like, Man, you're driving like a psycho. What's going on? And then stops and he's like, What's that in your hand? And I'm just like, I couldn't even formulate sounds. And then my brain did something else weird. He didn't even ask me for my license, but I was fixated on getting him my license. And I'm like, Hold on. I'm just looking for my license. And I start reaching under my seat, which obviously dealt with cops a lot. And I knew this was a horrible idea because because he thinks I'm probably reaching for a weapon. And I knew he was very nervous. I'm freaking out like, Stop moving around. But even though I knew all this, I could not control anything.

He took out his gun and he's like, Stop moving right now.

Jake is extremely nervous, and he knows he's in a dangerous situation. No longer in control of his body's movements, he's worried he'll soon be a headline on the local news. 28-year-old shot during traffic stop in Westborough, Massachusetts. But no matter how much he concentrates on sitting still, he can't. The officer radios for backup and multiple unmarked police vehicles arrive quickly to the scene.

I get ripped out of the car by six scops and thrown on the ground handcuffed. I'm like, Whoa, I'm not a bad guy. I'm not trying to cast her out. I'm sorry.

Jake is handcuffed and thrown into the back of an officer's SUV. He watches from the cruiser as other officers search his car. What Jake does next surprises him.

I just start talking to the guy about my drug use issues, and I'm just blabbing to him. Something that was really off, too, because I would never voluntarily tell a cop anything in my line of work of a drug dealer/user. I'm like, Shut the fuck up, Jake. What are you doing?

Jake is brought to the Westborough Police conversation and begins the booking process.

My fucking wife is going to kill me.

Jake's wife had been the first to notice that something was off with him. A few days before his arrest, she raised her concerns with a sudden changes in his speech. His words were slurred and higher-pitched. He sounded drunk. Initially ignoring his wife's observations, Jake now worries his wife will be upset with him. She knew that Jake was struggling with addiction and stuck by him during the few times he tried to get clean and then relapsed. Hearing of his arrest will surely upset her. While Jake wonders how he will explain his arrest to his wife, his body continues to shut down.

I'm sure they just thought I It was high. Yeah. But I'm like, no, I'm high. 365 days a year, and this is not... I'm very high function. This is not me, guys.

At that point, how frequently had you been using?

Extremely frequent. I would say hourly. If I was at work, I could go four hour stretches. But the difference is I never got my morning 15 minutes of smoking because it was interrupted by the police. So I was already feeling like not 100% to begin with, but I'm like, towards the end of this hour, I'm like, Oh, I got to get it.

The Bale bondsman arrived and Jake posted Bale. His car had been towed, so he needed a lift from the station. He calls his dad, Daron, and asks him for a ride. When Daron arrived, drives, Jake doesn't ask to be taken to his car. He doesn't ask to be driven home. He asks for a lift to his friend's house. He needs another hit.

I had trouble getting into his car, and I could tell that he knew something was off with me.

Jake's father agrees to drive him to his friend's house. The friend? His ex-girlfriend, Adrienne, who was In Jake's words.

A very big drug dealer bigger than I ever dreamed of from my own aspirations in that category. She was my hookup, and I hit her up.

Adrian and Jake had dated during a very difficult time in Jake's life, the period after his mom had died from a nine-year battle with cancer. Jake and Adrian remained good friends, so when she sees Jake struggle up the stairs to her apartment, she too inquires about his health. He assures her he is fine, and then freebases heroine off of tinfoil. Jake takes as many hits as he can in the three minutes he's inside. He then goes back to the car and is driven home. Jake had used his one phone call at the police station to let work know that he wasn't coming. Still, his wife had somehow found out about his arrest, and she is waiting for him when he gets back.

She wasn't happy when he got home, and I was You know, weird voice, weird balance, falling apart, . She's like, You need to go to the hospital. Something's fucking wrong with you. I think deep down, I knew, probably a good idea, but I didn't want to go.

Just a day later, Jake's wife calls an ambulance for him.

Just like junkies do, I'm thinking, Well, I'm going to be at the hospital. I better get my six in before I go, so I'm in the bathroom. And this was the moment I really knew I was fucked. I opened this five-gram baggie. All I would do is take the baggie and pinch out a little of it. But I couldn't even untug the bag. My fingers, my hands, they weren't working, so I couldn't even get the bag open. So I put in my teeth and I just pulled it off, and I'd go to dump a little, and I dumped the whole fucking thing all over the place.

Jake's attempt to smoke heroine had failed. The contents of the five-gram baggie now scattered across the bathroom floor. The paramedics enter his home and his wife directs them to the bathroom. The paramedics get Jake into the ambulance and begin tests. They theorize he may be having a stroke. Once in the emergency room, Jake undergoes a series of tests. They give him fluids, some time to rest, and assure him that he is fine. The hospital is preparing to discharge him when his wife pleads with the staff to take her concerns seriously.

This is not my husband. She's like, Listen to his voicemail. She takes out the phone and plays my first smile. I really did have a totally different voice.

When Jake and I decided to create this podcast, he raised a concern about his voice. Despite the miraculous accomplishments he's made in speech therapy, this new voice is something he's still getting used to. It's slower, wobbly at times, and he occasionally loses control over the volume. Jake shifts uncomfortably when hearing recordings of his current voice, but smiles proudly when showing me a clip from before his diagnosis. This clip is from a video he had posted on his YouTube channel called The Many Voices of Jake. There are a few sound effects, but in the start of the video, you're able to catch a snippet of his old voice.

There's all these soldiers there, probably like 400.

In the hospital, an emergency MRI is ordered. Jake assumes he will get to go home in the morning, so to make it through the evening, he calls his dad to bring him a pack of Marlborough Reds, his cigarette of choice.

That was the last pack of cigarettes that was bought for me. Life was never the same.

Hearing Knowing that Jake had assumed life would continue as usual, that he'd go back to work the next day and resume his regular drug use, I asked him how he'd been able to keep a job, how he could have lived a high functioning life up until this point.

My routine turned into like, I'd wake up in the morning before I did anything. I'd smoke heroine for five to eight minutes, cigarette, brush my teeth, but I would have a very productive day. So another thing. A lot of people would nod out and be incapable of doing much. It was like a cocaine for me. I was amped up. I was ready to conquer the world, do everything. It was like my spinach. If I was a papa, I just needed a little more, a little more, a little more. I could be high out of my mind, put it out two A 150-person wedding. Easy. No issues. And then walk out and talk to the bride's family after and like, Oh, so... Yeah, so she... Oh, yeah. But I would duck off to my produce cooler. Take a hit. I'd duck off to the bathroom every time a week. Take a hit. That was just like... That's how it was for years.

This hidden world of high functioning heroine users Others amazed me. I had family members whose lives were ruined from the drug and classmates who lost their lives to it. And so I always thought of it as this thing that debilitated people and then killed them. Learning that Jake and many others in his circle could function on heroine and present themselves in the world just like me or you was brand new information for me. Did people really not know something was wrong? For Jake, this lifestyle was something he would never partake in again, and he was about to learn why. Early the next morning, Jake wakes to multiple doctors in his room. One sits on the bed next to him. Jake remembers the somber expressions across each of their faces. The doctor seated next to him, placing a comforting hand on his knee.

I'm so sorry to tell you you have this really rare brain disease. Disease. And thank you for being honest with us about your drug use, because I'm not sure we'd realize otherwise. You have something called acute toxic progressive leukoencephalus encephalopathy. This was caused by inhalation of a toxin. It's pretty catastrophic in the white matter of your brain. They laid it out for me They were like, acute means it's happening right now. Toxic means inhalation of a toxin. Progressive means it will only get worse, never get better. And leukoncephalopathy means disease of the weight matter of the brain. I didn't know what it really looked like for me, but then they got into that and they were like, so you might survive. That would be very rare. But month one, you won't be able to walk. Month two, you'll have a difficult time sitting. Month three, trouble talking and swallowing. Month four and five is when you're stage four, end of life type thing. And then you'll likely slip into a coma and die. And I said that a lot. I was I really fucked up. I'm just thinking about where I went wrong in life and thinking about my mom who died.

I'm just like, I really, really screwed up in. Not the way I thought my life was headed.

Toxic leukoencephalopathy is a very rare disease that causes progressive damage to the white matter of the brain. Drug abuse through inhalation and extravenous injection can both lead to this disease. But it's not just heroin that causes it. Alcohol, cocaine, ecstasy, chemotherapeutic drugs, and even environmental toxins can lead to this diagnosis. For Jake, it was heroin, inhalation of heroin. The disease is complicated, and the research on it is sometimes conflicting. Some researchers believe that heroin-induced leukoencephalopathy may be caused by a contaminant in heroin, a bad stash, but others disagree. Here in the hospital with doctors surrounding him, Jake is told that for his particular diagnosis, acute toxic progressive leukoencephalopathy encephalopathy, only a few people have survived past diagnosis, and no one has ever survived after entering stage four of the disease. The odds are stacked against him. He is given six months to live.

I sat there with my thoughts, lie there for 20 minutes. I said to myself, Well, fuck it, you did anyway, and picked up the phone and called my ex, Adrienne, And I said, Can you bring me a package to a UMass Memorial Hospital? And she's like, What's wrong? I go, That's not good, but I just need a little something. She's like, Yeah, of course. I got you. But what's happening? I'm like, Oh, they just gave me six months to live. She's like, Oh, my fuck. Jake, I can't bring that to you. I was like, I'm dead anyway. I'm going to die. She's like, Don't make me do this. I'm like, I don't want to make you do anything, but please. And yeah, she came. I started getting high in my hospital bed smoking off info. I was having a hard time even I'm not even smoking it anymore. I was deteriorating that rapidly. I couldn't even do something. I did multiple times a day for ears the nurse walks in and sees me, and she's like, What? What are you... And I'm like, What's the difference? She's like, Hold on, leaves the room, and a bunch of doctors come in.

The hospital police and a team of nurses accompany the doctors. The doctors tell Jake, yes, he has about six months left to live, but if he keeps smoking and doing drugs, that window will shorten significantly.

The cops are like, We know what's going on here. You do it if you wanted to do it, but you should think about how you want to live your remaining days. And they left me with that. My wife came back after the cops looked around for the trash, and she was like, I'm leaving you. I'm out of here. You're on your own. I'm thinking about when I was watching my mom die in hospice and how that led me to this rough path of self-medicating and really fucked me up emotionally. I'm like, I love my wife. I'm just like, Yeah, you should not stick around for this. It's not good. I don't blame you. I could tell she was so angry and hurt. That's why she was just being rough with her words. She's like, I'm going to Seattle I knew it was in Seattle, her ex, and going back with him. She took off. She got a flight. She went to Seattle. She's, I think, gone for ever. After two hours smoking this, I'm just like, All right, I know how I want to live my last days. I threw the shit on the floor, and I was I'm done with that for me, but also for my dad and my siblings and even my wife, even though she's gone.

So I make the decision. This was May 23rd, fifth, 2017, when they began to just fight and not get high.

Two weeks after admission, Jake has moved from UMass Memorial Medical Center to a rehabilitation center, where he becomes progressively more sick while simultaneously going through withdrawals from heroin and nicotine. He is sick, dying, and in extreme pain.

There was a side of me that was like, Well, I know there's no chance, but maybe, maybe if I get my shit together and do everything I can do, I could beat this. And I ask them, Is there any medicine for this? And they were like, No. And I'm like, Is there anything I can be doing?

To start, Jake has put on extremely high doses of three vitamins, co enzyme Q10, vitamin E, and vitamin C.

And they were also like, And eat strawberries as much as you can. Do you like them? And I was like, Oh, I love strawberries.

Easy.

That's medicine. I would pints. I just had that mindset of like, I'm going to try to prolong my life and/or maybe be this.

Jake spends two weeks in UMass Memorial Medical Center before being transferred to Fairlawn Rehabilitation Hospital. It has now been 10 days since his diagnosis, and before his transfer, Jake receives a call from his wife.

I'm losing the ability to text by now already. I can't hold the phone to my ear, so get a call from her and I answer it. She's crying. She's like, I miss you. And I'm like, I miss you, too. And she's like, Can I come home? And I'm like, Well, there isn't much of a home to come home to. This is it. She was like, I fucking I hate it out here. There's too many drugs, and I'm doing too many drugs, and I'm miserable, and I just want to come home. Am I allowed to come home? I wanted her still, But I also knew this would be horrible for her, so I was torn. I miss you terribly, and I'm sad. But this is not... And she was like... I told her, I was like, This is not going to be good for and she was like, I don't care. I want to take care of you. And I was really torn. I was like, I knew it would be a good thing for me. So I was screaming in my head, just say yes. But I knew how hard it'd be for her. And she came back, and she was like, Totally different.

Positive. She got so into trying to figure out the best things for me, like strategies with ways to take care of me and experimental treatments. She was just all in.

Threw herself into the caretaker role.

And advocate. She really was the best at this for a while. I may have been blinded by the love I had for her, and I'm just realizing there was a lot I overlooked, perhaps sinister stuff.

Jake's health continues to rapidly decline. Not only will he have to find a way to survive this terminal death sentence, but he will soon have to figure out who around him he can trust.

My name is Sarah Turne. I spent years fighting for justice for my missing sister, Alyssa Turne, before an arrest was finally made in her case after nearly 20 years. But after my experience with the media, law enforcement, and the court system, I knew I couldn't stop with Alyssa's case. I know what it's like to fight for media attention, for answers, and for justice. After I stopped telling my sister's story, I knew I wanted to help as many other victims, survivors, and families as I could. On my podcast, Voices for Justice, I provide unique insight into these tragic cases because I know what it's like to not just listen to these stories, but to live them. And more importantly, how to help them by being a true voice for justice. Listen to Voices for Justice in your favorite podcast player today. You can be so much more than just a passive consumer of true crime. You have the power to help.