Status: Untraced - E5: Real Human

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Hey, good morning.

Hi, how are you?

I am good. I have some pretty big news.
You too? I got into Justin's iCloud. Oh my God.
What'd you find? So not very much yet. I can see that there's more data, but I have 9,000 photos from him currently.

Liam, God, you're amazing.

The thing I'm...

Oh, my God, this has been the biggest thing, as you know, for five years.

The phone, the freaking phone.

And that phone is such a linchpin.

You know what I mean?

It's the key.

So if you can recover any of that early stuff, oh, my God.

Maybe you can sell that to Netflix. I'm excited.
Me too. I don't know how much is backed up, you know? So like, I don't want to get you excited thinking like that I have a bunch of stuff because I don't know what I have yet.
That's okay. That's okay that you found that you're able to do something and maybe you can find something.
It's just very cool. Whatever you get is cool.
This is just very... Yeah.
Nobody's done this before. Sometimes I get the feeling I'm lost Just hiding, man, is never enough Now I find that every mirror of course Only once I saw the killer Once I saw the killer of course I saw the killer up close.

I'm Liam Luxon, and this is Status Untraced.

Episode 5, Real Human.

We've made a substantial break in the missing person case of Justin Alexander. There are files and data from Justin's iCloud, previously thought inaccessible, that we've recovered.
After sharing the news with Susie Reeb, I take the rest of the week to inspect the files that are synced to iCloud. This is what we're able to access.

9,229 photos and videos from Justin's camera roll.

42 WhatsApp conversations between late December 2014 and August 20th, 2016.

A list of Justin's 808 contacts. and an app called Day One Journals.

It includes diary entries, beginning in March 2014, and continues all the way to August

21st, 2016, the day before Justin left on the hike.

But before we go any further, let's pause here for a moment. Justin shared so much of his life on Instagram and other platforms, but there are things in here that I feel he never meant for anyone to see.
I want to be clear. My intention isn't to expose his private life.
It's to find out what happened to him. What we've uncovered is a significant step in our investigation, but I wrestle with what to reveal, if anything at all.
I share the files with Susie Reed, Justin's mother. As you heard a minute ago, she was excited about the find, but later expressed concern about Justin's privacy and image.
Understandably so. I also spoke with Justin's father, Terry Shetler.
After reading, you know, his journal, what was your impression?

That was, for me, it was like I was talking to Justin. That was really how he talked and what he talked to me about, what was going through his mind.
So what do you think is important to share from his journals to fairly present who he

is and the investigation aspect of what happened to him? You know, he was very protective of his private life. Yes, he did manage the narrative that was on Facebook and Instagram meticulously.
You know, anyone who tries to live in this society has struggles. That is the real treasure of the story about Justin.
You know, like he was so human. Yeah.
And I feel that the journal was his thing for himself, but now it's different. After multiple conversations, the conclusion my team and I ultimately make is to share an accurate story

and portray Justin's truth as a real human being.

Acknowledging his parents' concerns and respecting Justin's privacy,

we have carefully selected the pieces of his iCloud data that only pertain to his travels and state of mind,

facts that further our investigation.

For brevity, we've also condensed his journal entries.

What follows paints a picture of his mental well-being and actions

over the course of a three-year period. All of it leading up to the final days before his trek.

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Thank you. Before listening further, please be prepared that the following content deals with thoughts of suicide.

I sincerely recommend that if you feel you struggle with your mental well-being, please reach out to someone you can trust,

speak with a mental health professional, or call or text the National Suicide Prevention Hotline at pound 988.

You are not alone. Help is available 24-7.

We'll begin just a little bit. at pound 988.
You are not alone. Help is available 24-7.

We'll begin Justin's timeline in 2012.

Justin and his girlfriend break up.

He begins selling his possessions and retires from conventional life.

In March 2014, Justin makes his first entry into the Day One Journal, and begins it with this. Today, with the Mentuai, we trekked most of the day through the jungle.
I kept reminding myself that this was an amazing adventure, you know, to keep from being tired and annoyed. I mean, how often do you get a chance to cut your way through an Indonesian jungle swamp with some natives? Nearing the end of the year, after traveling through Thailand and Nepal on December 3rd, Justin journals while in Miami, Florida.
I think I'm a narcissist. I pretend that I'm an introvert,

that I'm shy,

but it's just that when people

don't make me feel special,

I shut them out.

That is a big problem.

It's probably why I'm a womanizer,

why I fall in love instantly.

Any pretty girl who makes me feel special

can have me.

Everything I do is for public perception. It's sad.
Three days later, he then journals with a more optimistic outlook. I don't need a quest.
Being in the USA has put me back in a goal-oriented mindset. I don't need to be famous or recognized or appreciated.
I am living the ideal life. Just follow passion wherever it takes me.
What else could be better? Fast forward to January 2015. In Alto París de Goya, Brazil, Justin's navigating a turbulent relationship with a girlfriend, one that's been rocky for the past year.
Amidst this, they attend a psychedelic ceremony, and he turns to his journal at 3.16am. I think about suicide.
Not like I'm putting a knife on my wrist, and I won't do it today, but maybe someday. It's funny.
Anything can be funny if you make it so. I think about killing myself.
I don't feel like I belong anywhere. I'm lonely.
I don't like myself very much right now. and I don't think anyone else does either.

It's funny that I make everything so serious.

I mean, come on, dude.

Look back at your problems from your deathbed.

This is all very silly.

Just feeling disappointed and negative about all this. Justin bounces around Brazil for a month and then darts off to Bolivia and Peru before circling back to the States.
April finds him motorcycling through Sedona to San Diego, winding up in Los Angeles as the month closes. He spends time with his friend Sterling Taylor, and on May 9th, at 2.17 a.m., he journals.
After two weeks with Sterling, I don't think I can handle being the less handsome and less charismatic one in a group. Every time we bring women or women home, he fucks, I sleep alone.
I can't handle this. I've been thinking a lot about killing myself.
Throughout the summer and fall of 2015, Justin's on the move, motorcycling

up and down the West Coast. Along the way, he meets the likes of Justin Chatwin, Jonathan Skeels, and Dr.
Christopher Ryan. Justin Alexander, who the hell are you? You're a travel blogger, is that what you said? As 2015 winds down, on December 28th, he makes a bold move, a one-way ticket to the Philippines.
He posts a rough itinerary of his plans for the upcoming year, culminating in India.

On New Year's Eve, he reflects in his day one journal.

I think I'm going to become a drug dealer in 2016.

It's a nice resolution, right?

I figure I can buy a bottle of acid and travel through Southeast Asia,

dosing friends for free and selling some on the side.

Seems pretty safe, considering the extreme penalty of being caught.

Odorless, colorless liquid in a peppermint oil bottle.

Cake, right?

I need to start making more money.

Guess it's time to become an outlaw.

Be smart, Justin. Don't get arrested, killed, or have your life ruined.
The entries here onward all take place in 2016, the year of Justin's disappearance. January 13th.

I'm with you, man. I'm with you.

Justin begins a 60-hour transit to Cebu, Philippines.

Sunday, January 17th, he journals.

I'm making my own way in this world.

I have to create my own hero and follow him.

This is the true hero's journey.

To become.

He immerses himself with an indigenous Palawan tribe,

then jets off to Thailand by January's end

to reunite with Dr. Christopher Ryan.

Arch 18th, Justin departs from Nepal.

He boards a bus to Gorkha, determined to help build the school, post-earthquake. He organizes a GoFundMe, rallying others to contribute to the cause.
April 7th, at 1254 a.m.,

Justin WhatsApp messages

iProof Managing Director Robert Gutierrez,

his old boss.

It appears they share access to a bank account.

As Justin asks,

Do you know what these online decrease things are?

I haven't withdrawn money since March 22nd.

It's me moving money around. Oh, okay.
I just wanted to make sure I wasn't getting robbed. Can you put $500 in because it's rare I get a functional ATM and it's going to be a long time till I can get money again.
It appears a $500 deposit is sent, but a little over a week later, Justin reaches out to Robert again. I need some more cash.
$4.50 in the account. Thank you.
Nearly a month later, on May 10th, he makes another request. My personal Citibank card doesn't work, so they're mailing another to the office.
I'll need it sent to Nepal. That's where I had the donations going.
Please message me with the pin on the biz debit when you can. I haven't had a money for a long time, and I'm freaking out.
Robert does not message back. In the middle of May, Justin spends time with Linda Barini traveling in Nepal.
May 22nd, in Pokhara, Nepal, Justin records a notable confession in his journal. Today I made my first drug sale in Pokhara.
I sold 20 grams of hash for $40. On May 26th,

Justin journals about buying

around 400 grams of hashish.

June 6th,

he messages Robert.

Can you put more in?

I'm totally out.

Tomorrow I go to the Indian Embassy

and need $100 for that.

I can put in like 200 more,

but that may be it for a bit.

Okay.

I'll make it last as long as I can. June 7th.
Justin journals that Linda is leaving Nepal. Three days later, his entry takes a daring turn.
Yesterday, I bought a kilo of Nepali hash. We passed four police checkpoints between Agra and Kathmandu.
They were looking for smugglers. June 17th.
I'm still hush on acid at 10 a.m. In a few hours, I'm boarding a bus to India with nearly one kilogram of Nepal hash.
Looking long-term, is being a grown man smuggling drugs really the future I want? Last night, I lost a bottle of acid.

Maybe 85 drops.

I was being stupid.

People were in my room.

I showed it.

Was tripping.

And it's gone.

Someone stole it.

I'm sure of it.

June 19th. Justin messages Robert about the debit card.
Can you quick ship to this address in India? It's in New Delhi and I'll be there in a week. Robert does not message back.
The next day, June 20th, Justin reaches out once more. I need cash.
Again, no reply. Whether they spoke over the phone any of these

times is unclear. Meanwhile, Justin takes to Instagram, announcing his first day in India.

He also meets an older German man and posts a snippet of their conversation.

Justin captions that the German provided advice for his upcoming motorcycle trip through Leh. What Justin omits from social media is that they also spoke about how to smuggle hashish around the Parvati Valley.
You cross the Malana range, you go Rasol, from Rasol you go down Rasol. Yeah.
So I can go around the checkpoint? Yes. You can track, you know, in the mountain.
But don't do it alone because you don't know the way. You got completely lost, I tell you.
June 26th. I bought a simple and beautiful bamboo bansuri in the key of E for 700 rupees.

June 27th.

A friend from Varanasi, who we'll call Yuvi, texts Justin on WhatsApp.

Yuvi introduces Justin to someone keen on buying hashish.

Okay, he can come to Mad Packers Hostel.

Give him my WhatsApp. June 28th, 2.28 a.m.
Buyer messages and Justin replies. When do you want to stop by? Aesop.
Just message me when you arrive. We can go in the roof and have a smoke.
40 minutes later, Justin WhatsApps the buyer. Hey man, I just went to get my stuff, and I think it's been stolen.
Can't find it. What the fuck? I'll find it.
Don't worry, sweetie. No, dude.
I've looked through everything I own three times. Chill.
I have the best of contacts. Let me come.
You know I need my tools. Dude, I don't have it.
There's no reason to come. I know you have more.
I'm my way. Won't go back, sweetie.
Just give me 40. I haven't cut it or anything.
I don't have a private room. I don't have.
Don't worry. We have almost reached.
The final answer is no. Can't go back without the hash.

The buyer calls Justin.

He does not answer.

You want to be fucked?

Sorry.

I'm dealing with a worse problem than you.

You stupid then.

I'm coming.

I'll fuck you.

You're in Delhi.

Don't forget. My place.
I have reached. Don't give me shit or you'll have to deal with a lot.
The buyers' messages continue to flood in, claiming they're en route. They bombard Justin with calls until finally, Justin fires back a response.
You've gone too far, my friend. I'm not doing business with you.
Sorry, brother. I am myself fucked up.
Some other guy was using my cell phone for navigation. He messaged all that shit.
Frustrated, Justin reaches out to Yuvi and shares screenshots of the exchange.

This is the kind of person you send to me?

My stuff was stolen, so I told him not to come because I can't find it.

That was his reply.

Don't send me any more contacts.

I don't like your friends.

The incident leaves such an impact that Justin records it in his journal.

They threatened me, so I got my machete and flute and waited.

They never came.

I did find my stash, thank God.

Over the next two days, UV sends a string of apologies.

Justin responds on June 30th.

I found a guy who wants a bunch for $3,000, so I'm going to go with him instead. This same day, Justin also messages Robert, inquiring about his request for cash.
Please respond. There is no response.
Five days tick by, and on July 5th, Justin reaches out once more. There's still no card.
You think FedEx actually lost it? July 8th. Justin buys a new Royal Enfield motorcycle in New Delhi.
July 9th. This marks the final date photos and videos are saved to Justin's iCloud.
The closing snapshots are of his motorcycle. July 16th.
Justin journals about traveling with an Israeli woman he met in late June. We changed her name to Emma.
Today we went to Dharam Salah on the motorbike. Every little thing seemed to go wrong, constantly misplacing things and feeling like a fool.
I'm not very sharp these days. Emma says it's the hash, and I keep getting so aggravated at everything.
I'm angry all the time, and I don't know why. July 21st, around noon, Justin writes in his day one journal, Walang Kulu, and titles it, So what does a man truly need? I'm going on a solo trek into upper Parvati Valley in the Indian Himalaya.
Some caves are inhabited by sadhus. They meditate in caves for months and renounce the world in search of enlightenment.
I plan on doing my own version of that, and it's something I've been called to do for years now. Later that night, at 11.29pm, he makes another entry.
Feeling pretty negative about myself. Money for my proof seems to be slowly closing tap.
I'm smuggling and selling drugs to get by. I'm having all kinds of relationship problems, wanting for amazing and beautiful women to love me, to be their hero, yet not prevent me from traveling alone and loving other women.
And I feel slightly jealous and immature when these women find other men. It's childish.
At my worst, I am very childish. I wonder if all I'm doing on this adventure is just a selfish child who doesn't want anyone to tell him what to do, yet wants to feel special and unique somehow.
It's a harsh take on an otherwise heroic endeavor, the hero's journey itself. July 22nd, he announces on social media that he's headed to Kyrgyzhanga.
Nearing 1am., he reflects upon his upcoming trip. I think India is about healing for me.
I need to take care of my health. My back is fucked.
My immune system isn't great. My mind? I don't know.
July 24th at 8.07 a.m. I've begun my adventure.
It's been a long time since I set out into the wilderness alone. But this time is special.
I have no place to be. No end date.
Nothing to do. Just be present for what feels like a very important time in my life.
The next morning, one month before the Baba Trek. I'm considering a solo trek to Montalai Lake.
I've been warned about doing the trek solo. I might find nomadic shepherds high up there.
If so, I can trade hash for curd. On Friday, July 29th, Justin journals about his financial situation.
This morning, I'm down to my last 200 rupees.

A young Indian from Kerala, 29th, Justin journals about his financial situation. This morning, I'm down to my last 200 rupees.

A young Indian from Kerala asked where he could find hash.

I sold him a tola for 1,500 rupees.

August 1st, mere weeks before the trek to Montalai Lake,

Justin returns to Casol.

That night, at 10.33 p.m., he fantasizes in his journal.

I dream of meeting a beautiful Indian village girl.

She wants a family and a simple life.

I learn Hindi and we raise our children bilingual.

I travel from time to time.

I provide for our family so she can live the life she wants. I will have a home.
I will have my freedom when needed. August 4th and 5th.
Justin exchanges messages with someone he met in Kalga about a potential job in Israel come October. He inquires if it's difficult to obtain a work visa there, but the contact is unsure.

August 7th, Justin hikes back to Kirganga and concludes his journal entry that day musing on his smoking habits. I'm in terrible shape.
The hike today was hard, and my pack was light. My heart is in no condition at all.
Smoking one to three grams of hash a day, over five to eight joints, isn't helping at all. August 10th at 2.48 a.m.
I've sat two days with Baba, and he has invited me to go on a holy pilgrimage to Montalai Lake at the end of the month. If I do this, I won't be able to ride to Lai.
This was my intention for coming to India. But my real intention for living is to experience the strange things in life.
I'd be a fool to pass up this invitation. So I will go to the mountain with him, to Montalai.
August 12th, Justin posts an Instagram photo of a small cave he's been living in. Lit by three candles, his personal items are scattered around the rock floor.
Three days later, Justin makes another post. It's the black and white image of Baba Rawat.
Justin captions it. I've heard stories about the magical powers of these Babas.
They can see into your soul and know your past and future. They can bless or curse.
They're holy men, but wild, and are even above the law in India. Police won't arrest him, even for murder, which happens, I'm told.
He says most Babas are fake, but he assures me that he is the real thing. He even cut his penis off.
August 18th. Justin posts a video to Instagram captioning that he plans to trek a pilgrimage with Baba, and ends it with the infamous message.
I should return mid-September or so. If I'm not back by then, don't look for me.
At 11.41 a.m., he receives his last known incoming WhatsApp message. It's from Robert Gutierrez, and it's sent after they appear to have a phone call.
Nice talking to you. Same.
Be safe. Friday, August 19th.
Justin writes in his day one journal in anticipation of the Babatrek. I might take acid.
Maybe half a dose? I'm nervous that he might be able to do black magic stuff, but this feels like the perfect situation for some...something spiritual maybe? The thing about sharing what I'm doing on social media is that there's some kind of expectation for me to come down from the mountain with some kind of wisdom. No pressure.
Two days later, on August 20th, Justin makes his final post to Instagram. I leave tomorrow and should be back to the internet world by mid to late September.
On this same day, Justin FaceTimes Linda Barini and makes what will be his final call to his mother Susie Reeb and his father Terry Shetler. He leaves his motorcycle in a backpack at a guest house and sends his last known WhatsApp text to an unknown Indian number.
From their exchange, it's evident this is the person Justin bought his motorcycle from. He calls her auntie and asks her about a starter she mailed for him.
The package never arrived in America. Is there a tracking number? August 21st, four days before the trek, Justin writes a journal entry and includes a photo of everything he's packed.
I'm excited about this trip. I'm going to step into my hero's shoes and give it my all.
I won't complain when I'm suffering from cold or hunger. I will devote myself to yoga and meditation or whatever the Baba asks of me.
I'm going to drop some acid at some point if I'm not freezing to death.

I want to do these ancient practices under an influence that

may allow me to see the magic, Justin met a Ukrainian traveler named Andrei Gapon who gave him the red butane lighter.

We also know that during his descent from Montalai Lake,

Justin passed a group of hikers.

Among them

is Nirmal Patel,

the man in the last photo

with Justin.

Fortunately, I was able to get a hold

of Nirmal.

I never knew, like, Justin was

so famous on internet and stuff like that when I met him. He was quite humble.
hold of Nirmal.

Nirmal Patel recalls meeting Justin five days before he left. So the thing was, I was also going to do the same track, what Justin was, but I was going to cross it and go to Spiti on the other side.

So when I started the track, I already knew that Justin might be in Mantila or maybe might be coming back.

And there were like four or five people with me also.

It's written on the GoFundMe that Nirmal and his group

crossed paths with Justin on September 3rd.

So I ask if he can confirm that date. I don't know, man.
I can't tell you exact days because it went like ages. He does, however, remember where they crossed.
We met on the second last spot called Chota Mandalay. And then we had a conversation.
I also offered him to travel with me and go to that side and come back. But he denied.
Before they departed, Nirmal shared food with Justin, smoked, and took the picture together. When Justin and you guys separated, what happened? Nothing happened.
He left and I left on my way. Nothing out of the ordinary, just a thank you for the food and goodbye kind of thing.
Yeah, yeah, yeah. Yarmul and his group then continued up the mountain and descended on the opposite side to Spiti.
Other than the Baba and Porter, they are the last known people to have seen Justin. And when you saw him, he wasn't with the Baba at that point in time? No, the Baba was before and then Justin was coming from behind.
Did Justin mention the Baba at all? No, man. He just told me that he had some small fight with Baba, but it's okay.
Nothing else he told about Baba. No details on that fight at all? No, no, no, no.
In spite of the lack of detail about this fight, it's the first indication we've heard that there was tension between Justin and the Baba. Was the porter with the Baba when he passed you? I don't know about the porter and stuff like that.
Did you pass any other characters at all when you were on your way up?

Nobody nefarious, like sketchy, dangerous kind of seeming?

And as far as Justin's mood goes, would you say that that changed at all? Of course, man, that he was a bit happy that he got good footages and stuff like that.

So a bit of excited but tired and planning to go back and relax.

This is everything we know.

It's a lot to digest.

But we can now confirm, Justin was putting himself in potentially dangerous situations,

like drug deals and smuggling. He was struggling in more ways than one.
Frail health, getting lost in hash and LSD, and suicidal thoughts. The Baba? Justin didn't trust him.
He sensed he practiced black magic, and supposedly, they had a fight on the mountain.

The details are murky.

But here's what hits me the most.

The cost Justin paid for his lifestyle?

It was heavier than I thought.

The loneliness.

The feeling out of place.

The fact that he was reckoning with these thoughts,

for some reason, it's a hard pill to swallow.

Hey, how goes it?

How's it? It goes, man.

For days, and for nights on end, I think about what Justin was going through and call Alex to keep steady. I don't know, man.
Like, I'm looking at all of this and I see he would be on these highs of, I love life. This is the hero's journey.
This is what I've lived for. And then it would flip to, I think about suicide, or like I have all these dark things in my past.
It was just, it was, it was a roller coaster, man. We think the grass is greener.
We envy the lives that aren't our own. But every life, no matter how adventurous, has its own struggles and complexities.
I think when to take into consideration his multiple nods to, you know, coming home.

It's funny now, you know, we're able to open all this new information,

review clues and insights of other things, but...

It feels like we know more, but we know less,

because somehow there's evidence for every single one of the scenarios that were there before. Yeah.
It's almost maddening. The most frustrating part? We've got solid leads to pursue.

Investigating Barbara Watt's untimely death

and locating the elusive porter, Anil Kumar.

But here's the thing.

It's 2021, and we're prohibited to enter India

as tourists due to COVID-19.

So Alex and I attempt Hail Marys.

We try to snag journalism visas,

even though I have no background to show for it.

We pull every favor within our network

to try to connect with someone inside the Indian government.

Hell, Alex even gets us on a guest list for an Indian wedding,

hoping it'll get us around the travel ban.

All our endeavors fail,

and we're stuck feeling defeated.

Until out of the blue,

And if you want to know, around the travel ban. All our endeavors fail.
And we're stuck feeling defeated. Until, out of the blue, an announcement drops on October 8th.
India has reopened its borders to foreign tourists and has ended a 20-month clampdown due to the coronavirus pandemic. All right, I'm recording it now.
I got some information. I was almost in disbelief, but our visas have been approved.
Next time on Status Untraced. Did you talk to somebody here? No, we emailed them, but they never responded.
He gave me call only on that time, and after that, he never gave me any call. The only people we're missing right now is the family of the missing persons case right now.
We believe from our research and things that he could be the culprit. The people go missing.

You think he's like robbing them and then taking the stuff?

He's basically murdering them.

If you have tips or information on the individuals in this podcast that you'd like to share, please email us at statusuntraced at gmail.com

or leave us a message at 507-407-2833. Status Untraced is a production of Tenderfoot TV in association with Odyssey.
I'm your host, Liam Luxon. Executive producers are Alex Vespested, Donald Albright, and Payne Lindsey.
Producers are Meredith Steadman and myself. Supervising producer is Tracy Kaplan.
Consulting producer, Jonathan Skeels. Associate editors are David Bash and Charles Rosen of GetUp Productions, with additional editing by Sydney Evans.
Artwork by Trevor Eiler. Original music by Makeup and Vanity Set.
Our theme song is Colder Heavens by Blanco White.

Mix by Cooper Skinner.

Voice acting provided by Johnny Lavallee,

Joshua Luxon, and Drew Schroer.

Thank you to Oren Rosenbaum and the team at UTA,

Beck Media and Marketing, and the Nord Group.

For more podcasts like Status Untraced,

search Tenderfoot TV on your favorite podcast app

or visit us at tenderfoot.tv.

Once more, I want to bring awareness

that we touched on the topic of suicide in this episode.

Remember to check in on those you love.

And if you're experiencing similar thoughts,

please reach out to a friend or family member

or dial the suicide hotline

at 988. People do care.
when you bring your phone, which is less than you spend on too tired to cook takeout every week.

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Well, I just found out that my dad lived a secret life as a hitman for the Chicago Mafia for all these years. It doesn't make any sense.
He was a firefighter, a paramedic. How the hell can he be a hitman? I need answers.
So I am currently on a plane back to Chicago to interview everybody, anybody that knows anything about this. I'm in shock.
This is absolutely insane. I just don't understand.
I need to figure this out. The shocking new true crime series Crook County from Tenderfoot TV

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Binge the entire series for free

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