You’ve heard this before.
A deranged criminal blends in perfectly with normal society. No obvious red flags that he’s a monster.
“He seemed like such a nice, normal guy.”
“There weren’t any signs.”
“We never suspected a thing.”
And here’s yet another terrifying example: There’s no way to distinguish this pedophile from a normal guy outside of a couple of the bumper stickers on his car.
Chilling. Outside of this man’s disgusting thirst for children and a few bumper stickers on his car proudly proclaiming it, he could be anyone you know.
Thirty-four-year-old Halloween store clerk Justin Richardson has a sick secret that only he and anyone who’s ever driven behind him is aware of: He’s a full-blown pedophile. But those who know Justin, and haven’t noticed the bumper sticker on his Hyundai Elantra that says “Pedophile TO THE BONE!”, all consider him to be a funny, nice guy who they’d be happy to invite to go swimming at the beach with their kids.
Justin has a normal girlfriend, he’s never been in trouble with the law, and he is neat and tidy. The only place you’ll find any bumper stickers proudly announcing Justin’s pedophilia at all are in a few small, select places on his bumper, where there’s a “Don’t like my driving? That’s probably because I’m a PEDOPHILE!” bumper sticker next to a Grateful Dead bears decal.
This is just scary.
How many people like Justin walk among us, completely incognito, a monster hidden in plain sight, with the only sign that anything is off being a few bumper stickers that say stuff along the lines of, “Pass me my pedophilia and no one gets hurt!”? The scariest part is that if there’s one, there are many more. Stay vigilant, friends.
