The Last Post

So I guessed I dragged this out because in some ways I'm not sure I wanted to finish up here. But alas, it is time. I started this blog back in 2007, and have logged in and written from all over the world. You've been to Greece with me. You've been to Laos with me. You've been to Ann Arbor with me. From Summer of Finger, to business school, to the Summer of Finger Part II, to the office. I appreciate you all keeping up with me. If I didn't get such positive feedback I'm sure I would've shut this thing down long ago.

I'm not 100% on this but I feel like I'm stopping this thing as my readership is the highest it's ever been. I'm sure Ashley York has something to do with that, and I'm okay with that. Writing this thing has been enjoyable, sometimes burdensome, but mostly something I'd look forward to every week or every other week. It served as a study break when I was at school, and a creative outlet when all I was doing during the day was going crunch crunch crunch with spreadsheets. In short, it made me happy. Plain and simple. And when you find something that makes you happy you hold onto it. I'm not giving all this up completely. I actually went out and bought Final Draft and have taken a stab at writing a TV show. I can't say I know exactly what I'm doing, but it's been pretty fun writing dialogue and making a story. As you can imagine, I have plenty of material. Does anyone ever say "when I grow up I want to be a corporate financier" anyway?.

When I thought about this post I had writer's block as to what I'd write about. But one night it hit me. It actually hit me pretty hard. I was playing the top of a 2-3 zone in a league playoff game when chasing down a skip pass I ran directly into a player on the opposing team. I didn't even see him. My forehead right into his face. We collided, and I can still hear the horrible sound it made. Like dropping a rock onto another rock. Two heads smacking each other. As I staggered away I looked at the other guy who was gushing blood from his mouth. I then slowly put my hand to my forehead to assess the damage and when I pulled my hand away it was as if I'd stepped into a scene of True Blood. His teeth had gone through the skin on my forehead and I was leaking. I don't like blood, and I was a little concerned, and by "a little" I mean a lot. Truth be told, it was a small cut, but a lot of blood. Once the bleeding stopped I bandaged it up and went back in. I'm not saying I'm Willis Reed or anything, but despite bleeding my own blood it was just fun to be out there playing. It reminded me of the last episode of The Wire when drug kingpin Marlo, clearly uncomfortable at Levy's white collar real estate function sneaks out and starts walking the streets of Baltimore until he encounters two kids and engages them in a fight only to get cut on his arm by one of them during the skirmish. Marlo looks at his bloody arm and smiles because he knows that being on the streets is what makes him happiest.

I'm not advocating going around looking for knife fights. It is pretty simple though. When you can find what makes you happy, do it. Whether it's writing, being a Baltimore drug kingpin, valuing companies, or making artisanal cheese. Maybe I'm writing this for you, or maybe I'm writing this for me so when I come back to this in a few weeks or months, or years or whenever I can remind myself what I said. Either way, it's out there, on the internets.

This isn't an Emmy speech, but I do want to thank you all for reading Finger:TheBlog. It really has been fun writing. After today if you want to get in touch regarding the blog or any of the posts, or anything else, I created fingertheblog@gmail.com, so holler at me. If you're a newbie, go back and read some of the early stuff. If you've been following since my trip to Woodbury Commons, well, hell, go back and read some of the early stuff too. Thanks again. I'm off to bed.

Ashley York Vol 10: Epilogue

Last week I ended the story of Ashley York. This is a fact. It is a fact, because the story was in fact over. And now you sit here perhaps saying to yourself, "Volume 10? How?". Here is how.

The internets are a strange place. That is how.

Last week I closed every loop I could close. I presented the facts (names, pictures, etc) and I let you, the reader, decide what you what you wanted to believe. I showed you the picture of Ashley York and then I showed you the pictures and named the names of the actual girls in the photos. These were the facts as I found them. If you revert back to Volume 9 you'll see that all pictures and names have been redacted by me. If you're a little late to the game you won't get to see any pictures of Ashley York or Krista Marks and you won't get to know the names of the real people in those pictures. Here is why.

My last post was Tuesday evening before I went to bed. On Wednesday and Thursday I saw the number of hits on my blog jump like crazy. I wasn't quite sure why, but it was nice to end on such a flurry of blog activity. By Thursday night I had begun thinking about what my last post would be like. Perhaps a simple 'thank you' post, or maybe something more akin to an Emmy acceptance speech. It didn't really end up mattering because Friday was one of the strangest days I'd had in a while. I was off from work and on a little mini-vacation. By about 2pm I was on the beach, relaxing and enjoying the water and sun. At about 4pm I get a call from my sister, urging me to call her back immediately. So I called her. My sister tells me that a friend of hers from high school is friend with the actual real girl in the Ashley York pictures, and that this girl saw my blog and is totally freaked and upset and wants me to remove all photos, names, and anything else related to herself and also her sister (Krista Marks). Wait, what?

So to recap, a mere 48 hours after I finish this story and recap it and name names, all of the sudden, out of the woodwork someone claims they are friends with the sisters in the photos and wants me to take everything down. I'm sorry, but after all the shenanigans I've had to deal with on this whole subject I found the timing to be SUPER coincidental. Perhaps too coincidental. Was I actually getting too close to figuring out this mystery? Had I caught them with their hands in the cookie jar, and finally exposed the truth? The email my sister received also had mention of getting lawyer involved, etc etc... To me, it sounded a little desperate. Lawyers getting involved with my poorly formatted blue and green blog? Really? I guess people were upset. But lawyers? Really? You're telling me that after writing this thing for the past two-plus months and with all these assumptions and conjectures that 48 hours after I post this thing, the real person in these pictures stumbles upon little old Finger:TheBlog, some two-bit blog operation in the corner of the internet universe? Come on now. This isn't Gawker for crying out loud.

My sister responded to the email and cc'd me, and as I asked her to, and basically said to her friend that I was willing to help find the person behind this whole mess. And truthfully, I was willing to help. My services were available. I mean, shoot, if anyone wants to solve this thing it's me. But the whole thing had me quite spooked and skeptical. Fast forward to dinner with my sister a few hours later, and I get a call from Private Number. I let it ring, obviously, and there's no voicemail. Next thing I know I get a text from some person named Andee claiming to be a friend of the girl in the picture (I will call her REAL Ashley York) and for me to call her back.

If you read any of my posts on this you know full well I ain't calling back anyone claiming to be anyone's anything. In fact I emailed my sister's friend and said more or less, "Listen, I'm getting some weird calls and texts from weird people. I'm not interested in talking to anyone but you or REAL Ashley York. Otherwise, I'm sorry".

My sister's friend's response was that they'd Skype me later on in the evening. They? Skype? Yes, "they" as in my sister's friend was literally with the REAL Ashley York. Maybe the REAL Ashley York was in Greece after all. So I'm sitting there with my sister still trying to figure out how in 48 hours after posting, and more importantly, 2 years after this craziness all began, how in the world I was about to talk to the REAL Ashley York. Folks, you can't make this up.

And my phone rang...000123456, which is what happens when you get a call from Skype. I picked up. It was my sister's high school friend. After a brief intro the friend said, "John, I'm going to let you and REAL Ashley York talk now" (of course she said the girl's real name and not REAL Ashley York, but I'm honoring my word by not naming names).

Then there was a pause. And then a 'hello'.

And I swear to God, for about five seconds the girl sounded exactly like the Ashley York I'd spoken to for hours on end back in 2008. But after those five seconds it was pretty clear that it wasn't the same person. So we talked. And we talked. Probably close to thirty minutes.

She seemed exasperated, and quite honestly I think we'd all be if we found out that some lunatic had been posing as us for AT LEAST 7 years, and had gone on wreaking havoc on one person's life after the next. She was concerned. Her sister was concerned too since her identity had be appropriated as well. Her parents were concerned. Her friends were concerned. Hell, I was concerned. I told her basically all I knew, but the most detailed account I could possibly give her is written in Volumes 1 through 9. It doesn't get more detailed than that. It sounded like she was going to make this a police matter. I couldn't blame her for escalating it. I don't know though. If the Department of Homeland Security couldn't track her than who knows, but I hope they really give it a go. I wished her the best of luck and offered my help. And as she asked, I took down all names and photos the next day.

If this were a true Hollywood ending we'd team up and catch this person, but this isn't Hollywood. We're not Edmund Exley and Bud White. This isn't L.A. Confidential. This is some real life shit, impacting real life people. I actually think that in our chat we might've found a lead or two in helping her figure out who this person might be. Unfortunately, the 201 number for Ashley York has since been disconnect. I'd say that perhaps this thing is close to being solved but I know better than to make statement like that at this point. I'd like to follow that Kim Daniel lead a little bit more now actually. What I can say with confidence was that the girl I mentioned in Vol 9, the girl I spoke to on the phone last Friday, that girl, she's not Ashley York but she is probably the biggest victim in this whole thing.

So you can look at this a few ways. Yeah, my blog post probably made a few people unhappy. Fine. But now at least two people know what the hell has been going on with their identities for over seven years. In a way I'd like to think I at least helped a little. In fact, I know I did help, more than a little.

How they found Finger:TheBlog...I'm not sure I'll ever know, but I'd love to know. It still seems strange to me. I never like to be the bearer of bad news. In fact, if you know me well, you know that I don't like conflict. I don't like arguing. I don't like drama. Perhaps this is why this whole thing has fired me up so much and still fires me up two years later. Things like this don't happen to me and that's why I wanted answers. One day I might get them. Last Friday Team Krashley got perhaps its most important new member.

Best of luck.

I'll be back with a final post next week.

Ashley York Vol 9: And So It Ends...

You didn't have to wait two weeks, but I did. Actually I think it was more like three weeks, or even a month.

I got back to school and resumed the good life. About a week after classes began I got a call from my summer employer telling me I got a full-time offer. I immediately threw all my books out the window and lit them on fire in the parking lot. Okay, maybe not exactly like that, but it most definitely eased some of the pressure of my second year. Actually, I don't know if eased is the right word. More like, removed, entirely. My focused turned to more gentlemanly pursuits such as drinking german beer out of a boot-shaped glass, calisthenics, Rick's, Michigan football, and thai food. Not necessarily in that order of course. Ashley York was so yesterday. Nothing more than an amazing fireside story.


I was actually planning on going down to Columbus, OH for the Michigan/Ohio St game in November, and for whatever reason I thought that I'd run into Ashley. After all, if you remember from one of the earlier volumes, she was in fact an Ohio State fan. How a British girl becomes and Ohio State fan, I mean, I don't know, but then again, she wasn't British, she wasn't real either. Leave it to a fake girl to pick Ohio St. But the girl in those pictures, she was an Ohio State fan. She and her piercing blue eyes.


Anyway, it was mid-week when I got a call from my sister. I picked up.


"I FOUND ASHLEY YORK! On Facebook!"


Impossible I thought. But my sister assured me it was her, in fact it was her picture but someone else's profile. So this is the dilemma. I'm going to name names here. I'm not going to tie anything together. If you've read this far you've earned your junior detective badges as far as I'm concerned so you can make your own assessments. I've made mine.


So here is the profile picture (finally) of Ashley York.


[PICTURE REMOVED]

You understand why I wanted this thing to pan out? Make a little more sense now? And because you've stuck with me this long, here's the most absurd picture Ashley had on her facebook profile. I had to save it because nobody would believe it.


[PICTURE REMOVED]

Whatcha doing Ash?"

-"Ya know, just riding a donkey in my bikini"

So shame on me for wanting to go out on a date with a tennis-playing donkey-riding vixen. But back to my sister. She directed me to the page of one [Redacted], from Harvard. Below is [Redacted's] current facebook profile picture.

[PICTURE REMOVED]

And that young lass there in the blue...you may recognize her as one Krista Marks. Or perhaps maybe you can start calling her by her real name...[Redacted]...aka [Redacted's] younger sister. Also a Harvard grad.


As the kids say these days, "WTF?"


Seriously. What the hell was I supposed to do with this information. Of course I dropped some knowledge on Team Krashley that evening. Yeah, I pretty much rocked their world. Two hot chicks from Harvard? Really, could these girls really have been behind all this? That was one theory. I doubted Kate's involvement, after all when I spoke to her on the phone it was a guy on the other end of the line.


I went bed that night and thought four things:


One. Chipatis were the dumbest invention of all time. It's basically a salad in a pita. Girls love ordering them and then systematically tearing the pita and just eating the innards (lettuce and so forth) leaving the outer pita shell untouched. Just order a salad. Jesus.


Two. Harvard girls? Really? Two pretty Harvard girls at that. They must have better things to do than torment guys...I should hope.


Three. Maybe Ashley was a 500 pound woman who used this ruse as her only way to get attention from guys. Maybe she couldn't leave her house. Maybe she just was so socially awkward she had to play these games.


Four. Maybe I have the best. imagination. ever.


I slept like shit.


James really stepped up his game the next day calling his Harvard friends to get the inside scoop on [Redacted] and [Redacted]. I don't think it would be 100% fair to tell you what information James got about [Redacted]and[Redacted]because I'm not besmirching anyone's name here, but I will just say that what we heard about [Redacted]was most interesting. Interesting enough to continue searching in that direction. James, through a friend was able to track down [Redacted] phone number through some Harvard eating club alumni directory. Yes, eating clubs. They have those at Harvard. So there we were. A phone call away from talking to [Redacted]. I was incredibly nervous, and I didn't even know what I'd say. James called me, and then once he had me on he called [Redacted]number. We agreed I would do the talking.


It starting ringing.
One ring.
Two rings.
Someone picked up.


"Hello. Is [Redacted]there?", I said.
"Que?", said a man's voice on the other end.
"[Redacted]?", I said again.
"Eh. Lo siento. Sorry. No [Redacted]. Wrong number." And then click.


A fake phone number. James called his Harvard people back and apparently {Redacted] last known whereabouts were Greece. Another dead end. Folks, let me tell you. I wish I went to Greece and started knocking on doors of whitewashed villas looking for a blond girl in a bikini riding a donkey. I wish I could tell you this is what happened. I wish I could tell you I found this girl in a small village on a mountain, sitting in a courtyard writing poems about a girl riding a donkey while wearing a bikini and showing off her six-pack abs. I wish. But sadly, this is where the story peters out. Just like every other time we had a breakthrough, it would just lead to another dead end.


I remember St Patty's Day 2009 I was driving to Chicago with two friends. They'd only heard pieces of the story, and asked that I tell it from start to finish. So I did. After I was done, they were like you and everyone else..."we gotta catch this girl". I casually mentioned that I still had Ashley's number. Screw it, we'd call her from my friend's phone and would see if anyone picked up. Again, this is March 2009. We called, and lo and behold someone picked up.


"Hey Ashley", my friend Josh said.
"Um, hi. Who is this", said a NOT-BRITISH voice.
"It's Josh, from the Hamptons. You never called me back. What's up with that?".
"Who is this", Ashley said again.
"Come on now. We met at the Talkhouse. You don't remember", Josh said.


Meanwhile, I actually was really nervous. It was the first time I'd heard her voice in two years and while it wasn't British it certainly sounded like the same person and it gave me the chills. I don't care what the person on the other end of the line looked like but she was a sociopath and I couldn't shake that thought.


"I don't know you. Bye", Ashley said and hung up.


We exploded in laughter, but then when the laughter subsided we realized that Ashley York was still up to her old tricks and had her same cellphone. And just for shits and giggles, Ashley York is still in my phone...201.638.3893. I have no qualms whatsoever about giving that information out. And you know what, ashley.york@yahoo.com probably still works too. Knock yourself out.


But do you know the scariest thing? When I started with Volume 1 a few weeks back Ashley York was nowhere on facebook, but at some point along the way she activated her profile AGAIN. And what's even more bizarre is that Mark (Troy's friend from a previous Vol) is still her friend and we have another mutual friend. Ashley's privacy settings are so severe that I don't think you can even find her, but since I have message history with her from 2008 her profile is still visible to me. You'll have to take my word on that. And her picture, well, it's the same ol' Ashley York/[Redacted].


So in reality, while it was case closed with this guy, who knows what other Ashley York-related shenanigans are going on these days. Truthfully, I'd still like to have a chat with [Redacted] and ask her a few questions, but in my heart of hearts I believe she's riding burros is Greece and will be unavailable for comment. I wish her the best though. I think.


There are many lessons here to be learned. One, Facebook is the devil. That's obvious. But there are probably thirty or thirty thousand other lessons to be learned. For example, don't drive to Montauk in the middle of the day on 4th of July weekend, ever, especially if it's to meet a girl in a parking lot. Or perhaps, if a girl calls you and sounds like a guy, it's probably best you never speak to that girl again. I don't even know if I mentioned this, but at the end of that summer in 2008 the New York Philharmonic was playing in Central Park. Out of the blue Ashley asked if I wanted to meet her in the Park to watch it. So another piece of advice, don't go chasing imaginary girls in Central Park, at night, when there are tens of thousands of people already in the Park. I think I provided enough life lessons here to last you all at least until the rest of the summer.


This is where the my Ashley York saga ends. I'm still going to come back for one last post. (Tear). I will say that I've really enjoyed the feedback from many of you over these past few months. I can't believe how many hits I've gotten on this site, and while I wish I had a better ending for you, I really do appreciate you sticking with me. Hell, if you have any insight in this matter holler at me. You can post a comment and I promise you I'll read it and if you have a question post it. I'll get back to you and answer any questions you may have. It really has been a pleasure getting this story, this true story, out there. Feel free to tell it to your friends.


I have a feeling we'll find out the truth one day, but until then, let's just enjoy the REAL people in our lives. They're definitely more fun and more cool than the imaginary ones.

Ashley York Vol 8: Closure. Kind of.

Ok, so where was I? Krista Marks...broham. Officially. Krista Marks...the Indian Chief from The Village People. Quite possibly. Krista Marks...scaring the shit out of me from afar. Oh hell yes.

As I mentioned, I had some calls to make, but who was going to believe this? Team Krashley would, but of course I'd get seriously ribbed for having facebook messaged with a chick who was really a dude (who probably had a mustache) all these weeks. But one by one I told Team Krashley and I think everyone was more sketched out than I was. Part of me felt like I was walking into an episode of Dateline: To Catch a Predator meets Candid Camera. Somewhere, there must be someone having a laugh, aside from Krista and Ashley of course. What I couldn't figure out, among other things of course, was how Krista, or Kris, or Ralph or whatever, could possibly think, for a single second, that I wouldn't immediately recognize that this was a man on the other end of the phone. If it was Phuket, and it was dark, and I'm a couple of Singhas deep maybe I'd have trouble because the ladyboys are so ambiguous and confusing and scary. But even in Phuket, if a he-she opens his-her mouth and says something you KNOW if you're speaking to a Krista or a Kris. This was a Kris.

Up until this point though Krista was nothing more than a picture of a pretty blond girl who wrote me messages, but the realness of the conversation honestly scared me. I was frightened a little bit. In fact, here's a picture of the Krista Marks I thought I was dealing with.

[PICTURE REMOVED]

"LOL!!! I have an Adams Apple"

Cute right? Cute like the Son of Sam. The general consensus among Team Krashley was first, not to get killed, and second, to go out and expose these frauds. I agreed, but I wanted to do it right. But leave it to Krista to continue to push. Here is another exchange I had with Krista just days after our phone call. And by the way, at this point, zero interaction with Ashley just so you are clear.

Krista: ARE U TWO JUST NOT INTO EACHOTHER. FED UP WITH EACH OTHER. FRUSTRATED? IF U DONT CARE THEN I WILL STOP BOTHERING.

Krista: JUST DONT UNDERSTAND

JOHN: Frustrated. I think you do understand. This all is too good to be true.

Krista: What does that mean?? U said you REALLY liked her and now ur fucking it up. Are you afraid of good things? And i dont understand. All I know is that she is confused and given ur actions is starting to get over it. LOL WHATS WRONG WITH U?

So you see, I made a vague reference to things not being kosher. And to her question of being afraid of good things...well, if good things include "she puts the lotion on the skin", then yes, perhaps I was a little afraid, and that's why I didn't call out Krista right then and there. In the meantime, Troy and James were working double-time to get this Ashley story out there. James put me in touch with the guys over at thrillist.com, which is dailycandy.com for men for those who don't know. If you don't know what dailycandy.com is then wikipedia it. But through thrillist I was put in touch with this girl. A columnist who had some pretty good credentials. We had only emailed, but she'd heard the general story from the thrillist folks and was interested in hearing the raw and uncut version. The thing was, this story was evolving every single second, so it would be hard to wrap it in a nice little bow, but I would try. Unfortunately time was running thin a little bit. I had to get back to Ann Arbor for my second year of business school. The writer, and I forget her name now, but we kept missing each other. Team Krashley and I had come to the sad conclusion that this really was going to go unsolved. I felt a little bit like a failure. With all the resources we had how could we not figure this out. More than anything I wanted to know who this Ashley was. A week went by and I was getting ready to head back to school in a day or two and wouldn't you know who comes popping up on my facebook again. Your friend and mine, Krista Marks. Mind you, a full calendar week she's picking right back up on the same thread.


Krista Marks: July 25, 2008 at 10:32am Report
And too good to be true is bullshitt.

John Finger: July 25, 2008 at 10:54pm
I don't even think she exists, because if she feels the way you say she feels then she would've made more of an effort a long time ago. She's clearly not interested.

Krista Marks: July 26, 2008 at 2:46pm Report
Umm ok then. Are u interested!? Whatevs, u two would be great. If ur gonna have a sour attitude then forget about it. And shed be more interested if uactually bit back LOL
Sent via Facebook Mobile

So to recap, I just said to her that I didn't think Ashley didn't even exists and she writes back "are u interested". Not that I'm a tough guy, but enough was enough here, so I let it all hang out. And apologies to anyone that is offended by the below. I was just angry.

John Finger July 26, 2008 at 3:42pm
Bite back. While you joke, I mean really, this has been a game for you two and it's getting kind of old.

I liked her when I thought she was real, and now I don't think that anymore. Obviously I spoke to someone on the phone, but not "Ashley York" and she sure as hell doesn't look like that. And it's hard to believe that none of your friends have facebook profiles. You might want to create some to make it all seem more legit. If everything was kosher we would've already met. And quite honestly, any girl who looks like that has better things to do than mess around with some random dude she's never met.

I thought you all would just let this thing die a natural death, but you keep coming back for more. I don't know you guys, and you don't know me, but absolutely nothing checks out. Nothing. I could write a book about all the BS that's been peddled my way. If you are going to say you went to Spence you should've realized that there are 30 girls in a class and of the class of 2000 I know about 10% of the girls, and nobody has ever heard of Ashley York, and trust me, if there was a girl who looked like that who ever came to Spence for even 2 weeks people would remember. That's one. Two, you all play in a very small pool. People who are friends with both of you who I know have never heard of either of you. Not a single one. If a hot blonde facebooks someone you are going to accept, but you know this. And Georgetown...come on. You don't think I know people at the State Department who can run a background check and see that Ashley never went to Georgetown, or that she bought her cell phone at a CellCo in Hackensack? And Elle? Really? Nobody there has ever heard of Ashley York. It sucks getting fired, but it really must really suck getting fired from a pretend job. I could literally go on for another half an hour. A Saturday flight to London at 4:00 doesn't exist and neither does a flight at 3:30, or 3:00, so while I heard all three times thrown out it really doesn't matter. MOMA in Brooklyn? Nashville, Chicago, Miami, North Carolina? Is Marley real? Royal Ascot? What are you going to tell me next, that Ashley got hit in the head with a steel beam back on 9/11? What you all did to Cole was really wrong, and I'm just happy that I asked around as soon as I thought shit was getting weird. And just when I really thought that maybe I was paranoid, you call me, sounding like a dude from Ronkonkoma, and not girl from Old Westbury. If you have laryngitis, I hope you get better, but no girl who allegedly grew up in Old Westbury and went to Columbia talks like that.
If you are going to try to pull this shit, pick people from the Midwest who don't know any better or tighten up your game. "Ashley" was actually very charming and sweet and seemingly bright when I spoke to her. It's a shame you all clearly get off on doing this to unsuspecting people. I want to know the real deal and so do a ton of people that I know. I'm not sure we'll ever figure it out though, but if you want to let me know I'd certainly be happy to pass along the story behind it all. I really want to know who those blondes are. If you know that at least give me that before you go silent. And I hope I'm 100% wrong on this because this would be an extremely ridiculous message, but I know I'm 100% right. You really picked the wrong person this time.

Krista Marks July 26, 2008 at 5:28pm Report
You are 100 percent wrong and fuck u I do talk like that. I never did anything to you and I like Ash is real. I am a good person you are. Clearly paranoid. I don't have time for games. Wow - goodbye.
Sent via Facebook Mobile

Catharsis can be a beautiful thing. Who knew that sounding like you're from Ronkonkoma was so horrible either? Her response was super weird too. It was as if he-she just got his-her hand caught in the cookie jar. Some of the details in the note you may not be familiar with. The one that piqued your interested was the 9/11 comment. Apparently at one point on one of Cole's visits Ashley had a relapse into a coma post-head trauma somehow related to a falling beam on 9/11 and was at an undisclosed hospital location. I know...

But it felt good. Really good. If I wasn't going to catch these two I'd at least like to put a scare into them.

The next day I went onto Ashley's profile. When I read what was on her page I could barely believe it. The chutzpah of some people. I don't have the exact quote, but she stated that at some point in the last six months someone had stolen her facebook login and had been communicating with a number of people. She said how sorry she was for the miscommunications and how sorry she was if she hurt anyone. She went on to say how traumatic it was for her these last few months and how deeply affected she'd been by this invasion of her privacy. Rrrrrright. I call bullshit. In fact, I felt it was time to call it to her face (or as least as close as I could get to her face).

Here's my email....and please excuses typos and grammar. It wasn't my finest piece of writing.

Thursday, July 31, 2008 12:56 AM

Ashley,

I just saw your facebook message and I'm really confused. I can't believe that someone stole your identity and has been pretending they have been you for the past 6 months. I was still talking to you on the phone and also through facebook so I really don't know who I was speaking to. Clearly what's going on now is that you are pretending that someone stole your pretend identity. Unfortunately I think you're in over your head a little bit. There's no Ashley York, plain and simple, and I can tell you why.

1. You didn't go to Spence. I know a lot of girls who graduated in '00 and none of them have ever heard of you. You didn't go there for one day, one week, or one year. I actually made people go back through their yearbook and check. Nothing.

2. You didn't go to Georgetown, and I know this because my friend works in Homeland Security and did a background check and there's no Ashley York that ever went to Georgetown. So I guess you didn't make the tennis team there either. Oh, and you got your cellphone at a CellCo in Hackensack. My buddy at Homeland Security told me that too. He also told me the phone is registered to Kim Daniel. Do you know her?

3. Your Dad doesn't work for Merrill. I have a good friend who's an MD there and he told me the only York in the system is in Louisville, or something ridiculous like that.

4. You didn't work at Elle because I know people there and nobody has heard of you. People called, and again nobody has ever heard of you. Interns make the masthead, so it's hard to believe you wouldn't be up there as well. And even worse is that you got fired from an imaginary job. Talk about a tough job market.

5. You never had a flight to Wimbledon, because a 3:00 Saturday flight doesn't exist and neither does a 3:30 or a 4:00.

6. You never were in the Hamptons that weekend and I can't believe I got worked up over all that when you probably did all that just from the comfort of your own apartment.

7. You probably don't even have a dog.

8. Krista is a dude. LOL!! I have no idea why he/she called me trying to pretend it was a girl.And I don't know who Karine is, but from what I gather Krista and this Karine are the same person too. The question is whether all three of you are the same person.

9. Cole. How could you fuck with someone like that? That's just straight up malicious. I don't think you realize the pool your playing in is way smaller than you think. People know people. They talk. They have friends who talk. They see through this facebook shit.

10. If you were British royalty you would a) have better manners and a more authentic accent and b) wouldn't be fucking around on facebook and you'd have better things to do than talk with strangers, such as myself, until the wee hours of the morning.

I'm going to stop there, but I don't know where Ashley York stopped, and pretend Ashley York began, or Kim Daniel stopped and Ashley York began. I don't know who was telling me what. Whoever I spoke to, I enjoyed speaking with her, but I don't even know who that was. The thing is, there is no Ashley York, and that blonde girl is some randomly gorgeous girl who is not you and you've been swiping her pics from somewhere and posting it on the web. Although, if you know who it is can you tell me because I'd like to meet her. I'm over this whole thing, but a lot of the people who I've told this saga to are not over it, and a lot are willing to put in the leg work to figure it out. I'm back in school in a few weeks, where I can move on and focus on meeting real people.

-John

I'll tell you what, that felt pretty good too, but solving the mystery would've felt a hell of a lot better. One day after I wrote the email Ashley York disappeared off Facebook. Poof. Like Keyser Soze.

I had an eleven hour drive to Ann Arbor in a few days. I drove out with a buddy and of course I told him the story. We tried to piece it all together, but we couldn't. His question was the same question most of the people would ask, "so who was the girl in the picture?". I had no clue. It really was a shame that we'd never figure out who those two blond girls actually were...until we did, two weeks later.

Ashley York Vol 7: A Tangled Web

Before I go any further I want to back up a quick second. In case the connection wasn't clear last episode when Troy's response to my mentioning Krista Marks was "Ashley York", the reason was because to lure his friend Cole, Krista had used herself as the springboard once again. Apparently she had played the "we've met before in (insert vague place/time here)" . It worked on me, and it had worked on Cole, and it started to dawn on me that Krista and Ashley (or were they the same person?) had worked on many many other people between 2003, when Cole "met" Ashley, and when I "met" Ashley five years later. Five years, same sick shtick...and all I can think of as I write this now, two years removed is The House of Vanger. But I digress...

Team Krashley went into overdrive. We were too resourceful to not figure this out. Plus now we had Troy. When Troy and Cole had traveled to Europe after college, at one point Troy got on the phone with Ashley after Cole had called her. I said to Troy, "doesn't she have the cutest British accent?". Troy's response, "what are you talking about, she's not British". He said, "Finger, I'm telling you man, she absolutely does not have a British accent". I was floored, once again. Who was this girl? What kind of crazy ass games was she playing? And then Troy decided that he himself had to hear Ashley speak. He had to hear her voice. It became his obsession.

I had other things to worry about though, like checking behind me as I walked into my apartment. I was legitimately spooked at this point, but I felt confident I was going to be able to explain everything. I couldn't let go of Ashley, not emotionally of course, but in terms of communications. It was vital to Team Krashley that I not fall off Ashley's radar. Krista on the other hand, well, she was a bit of a "facebook slut". I could get her attention any time I wanted. In fact, she wouldn't leave me the hell alone.

Here's a back and forth with Krista to illustrate. We had a conversation which she started, entitled "you alive?".

Krista Marks July 14 2008 3:59pm

Guess Not

John Finger July 14 2008 10:10pm

Yeah, I'm alive. Are you?

Krista Marks July 14 10:19pm

I AM - WHAT'S HAPPENING WITH U AN ASH???? WHY ARE THINGS WEIRD!!!!?!!???

John Finger July 14 2008 10:19pm

nothing is weird. What do you mean?

Krista Marks July 14 2008 10:26pm

NOT WHAT I HEAR

Weird is an understatement to describe what was going on, but I felt like if I just played it like I was still thinking about Ashley and that things were normal, maybe I could extract some kind of information from Krista. What was clearly obvious was that Krista and Ashley were in cahoots. I can clearly remember having a bonfire the following weekend in East Hampton and once again telling the story. New details had emerged and I'm not going to lie, I feel like I did a pretty bang up job of telling it. After I was done telling the story a friend from college pulled me aside and he said, "I know a guy who can find her. He can find anyone". So I responded, "great, put me in touch". And he said, "no, you don't understand, he can find anyone, but it's not cheap". I was thinking, how much would I spend to have this solved. He said "Two thousand bucks and I promise you, he'll find her". Well, I think I'd just take my chances with Team Krashley thank you very much.

That Monday Troy said he was going to contact Jared Morganstern, some big mucky muck over at Facebook and an old friend from Long Island. We were going right to the top here. But after a few emails and no response that conversation never materialized. Troy, let me tell you, he was adamant about talking to Ashley. He used to make me practice dialing him into calls from his cell phone and utilizing the calling from a "Private Number" function. His philosophy, "practice makes perfect", so occasionally we'd do our thing, dialing in to each others phones from private lines and such. It's not hard, but it's nothing I've ever done and I'm not the most tech savvy person of all time either. Troy also began putting out the feelers to his friends. He contacted his friend Ryan, from growing up, who also happened to have gone to Penn, and who also happened to be friends with Krista Marks. Troy had asked Ryan who Krista Marks was and Ryan's response "I don't know. She looked hot and she friended me, so I accepted". He had never met her and had never seen her, although he did say that last year Krista had contacted him insisting that he'd met her in the Hamptons. Ryan ignored her. This Krista was surely persistent. Ryan asked Troy what the deal was. Why was he asking all these random questions, so Troy gave him my story, and when Troy was done Ryan remarked that something about the name Ashley York was eerily familiar. He thought that he had recently met her. Ryan was going to think about it and get back to Troy.

Troy relayed this to me and of course I was pretty excited. Finally, a sighting. Ashley did exist. Not only did she exist but there had been a sighting, and a recent one at that. Ryan called Troy the next day. He hadn't met Ashley, but his friend Eric, a tennis player from Penn, was currently talking to her on Facebook and the phone and was supposed to go out with her. Ashley York = Black Widow Spider. Good God this girl works fast. All I could think of was how many balls was she juggling at once. How many guys were in her web. Troy Ryan Eric and I got on an email chain. I explained to Eric that he wasn't going to be meeting Ashley anytime soon and told him a watered down version of my story. He concurred that the whole thing was weird, starting with the initial note he received from Krista Marks all the way to the first time that Ashley flaked on him for drinks. My advice, stay away.

But the group dialogue proved to be a great way to disseminate and share information. We added Troy's friend Mark to it, who knew Cole. Mark knew of another guy who was friends with Krista Marks and that guy knew another one. Soon, a back and forth between me and Troy had turned into a real listserve. There were ten or so guys within a few days. It was an interesting cast of characters. Most were from the tri-state area, had gone to school at either on the Northeast or at one of the Big Ten schools, and many were Jewish. Ashley York's facebook profile showed that she had many friends and they posted on her wall. Stuff like, "hey, let me know when you're in the DC area". It seemed legitimate to me but I knew better. But back to the listserve...I mean, some of these guys really believed she existed. One guy said something like "I go to all the clubs and believe me, I would've remembered her if I saw her, and I'm hoping I'll find her one day". I chimed in, "nobody is ever going to meet her. She's not real". I'd had enough of the listserve after a few days. It wasn't helpful. Too much testosterone. I needed to focus.

Team Krashley recommended I do a reverse lookup on Ashley's phone number. I paid the requisite $20 and waited for a response. Finally I got it. The name that came back "Kim Daniel". Kim Daniel. Who the hell is Kim Daniel we all wondered and we all set out to find Kim Daniel. We poured through the directories and facebook and asked friends. Nothing. Well, something, but nothing substantial. We did know that the phone was purchased at a CellCo in Hackensack, NJ. But what did that do for us. There were a few Kim Daniels in northern New Jersey, but nothing that seemed to make sense as the women we looked up were all in their 40s and older. It was possible. We were hitting dead ends left and right. Looking back though, I wish we'd pursued that Kim Daniels lead a little harder, but things were about to take another bizarre turn.

Troy and I were on the phone one night. He had called me a few times from "private number" just to see if it worked, which it had. We chatted about new developments and stewed over our inability to make progress given the lead with Ryan's friend Eric and with Kim Daniel. We were letting this slip, and there was no reason for it. Well, maybe there was kind of, since, you know, I was trying to finish up a summer internship and get a job at my firm and you know, make something of myself and what have you. But Ashley York. Krista Marks. Ashley York. Krista Marks....

Krista Marks!

Krista was back on facebook messenger and she was messenging me some nonsense about me messing things up. At the same time I'm on the phone talking to Troy telling him that Krista just won't give up. Troy suggested that we get her on the phone, even if he just sat silent, he wanted to hear Krista explain herself.

Krista was blabbering away, and I was humoring her with, "I'm not sure", "I don't know", "something feels wrong", etc etc. She was buying it hook line and sinker. Meanwhile, Troy is pleading with me, "Finger, get her on the phone, just ask her to call you". So I write to Krista, "Krista, enough of this facebook bullshit. What's your number?" I tell Troy I'm going to call her and for him to hang up. We hang up. Krista says, "no, I'll call you what's your number". So I give it to her. Troy's on facebook messaging me now, "Finger, call me into the conversation right now. Before you call her". Troy's being persistent. So persistent that he can't wait. I get a call from "private number" again. I'm looking at it. Why can't Troy hold his horses for five seconds...

But let me take one second to tell you about Troy. And I might've told you this before, but Troy has a very distinct voice. He sounds kind of hoarse, and has since he was 9 years old. Deep voice, kind of scratchy, and very distinct.

It reads "private number" on my phone. Damnit Troy. I hit the answer button.

"Jesus, you are so impatient. Can't you wait like five seconds"

"Hello", said the voice on the other side.

"Troy, yeah, hi. Hold on a second"

"Who's Troy?"

Wait a second. What the fuck is going on here. I know this voice. But I don't know this voice. It sounds like Troy, but it doesn't. I start in again.

"Who is this?", I say.

"It's Krista".

And that 's' hissssssed like the day is long. I don't know how to describe this voice but it was somewhere between James Earl Jones and Richard Simmons, with a heavy slant on the Richard Simmons side of things. This cannot be for real.

"Hey Krista", I say, incredulously.

"So, what's the deal", Krista says, like she's talking to a close friend.

The word "deal", I don't know how, but Krista made it have 19 syllables.

"No deal. I'm just very confused right now", I said, barely managing to keep my composure.

"Do you like Ashley or not!?", Krista practically barked at me.

At the same time I'm facebook messaging with Troy. I tell him I'm speaking to Krista and Krista is a MAN.

You can imagine what was going through my head right now. Actually you probably can't. I know Ashley York was a girl, that I reminded myself was a fact. I'd spoken to Ashley, as you know, many times. But "Krista", did he/she really think he/she could get away with calling me and sounding like a man. Like a grown ass man. It was a man. It didn't sound like a man. It was. A. Fucking. MAN! All I could think of was "Ray Finkle is Lois Einhorn".

I don't even think the rest of my conversation with "Krista" was even coherent. I don't know what I said, but I feel like Krista just pressed me to stay involved and be a "man" (how ironic) and call Ashley. The same garbage she had been feeding me over facebook, but now, you know, just in the voice of an incredibly effeminate MAN. I hung up and just dropped my phone immediately, like it was a piece of kryptonite. I knew I needed to call Troy back, but I also needed a minute to digest.

My head spun. I had some calls to make. How does this story keep getting more twisted, I thought to myself. If only this was the last twist...

Ashley York Vol 6: Troy's Tale

That weekend I headed down to a bar call Three Steps in Grammercy. I can't recall what the occasion was exactly, but it gave me a chance to see some friends who I hadn't seen in a few weeks. One of these friends was my friend Sean, who of course wanted to hear the full Ashley York story since I think I had given him snippets over the weeks prior. The story was getting harder and harder to tell with every passing day due to the sheer number of crazy details that regularly emerged. I'm not sure I'd even exchanged so much as a text with Ashley in a few days, but I found a really good reason to break the silence before I headed to the bar. My friend Lexi, who went to Spence and would have been in the same class as Ashley was going to be at the bar too, so I texted Ashley, and told her I was going to see one of her old high school classmates at the bar, knowing full well that Ashley never had so much as set a foot in Spence. Her response was something to the effect of, "Oh she wouldn't remember me, I was the awkward British girl". People, believe me, if you saw this girl (and I will post pictures at some point) you would've at least, at the very very least, recalled having gone to school with her. I laughed off her response...but back to Sean. Upon completing the story to Sean he looked at me and said, "text her right now and tell her to send a picture of herself to you". Why would Sean ask that? Well, the prevailing theory was that maybe there really was no Ashley York. Or perhaps someone was posing as this blond girl in all the pictures. I mean, there was a person I spoke to and there was a picture, but maybe there was something else weird going on. I didn't rule it out although it seemed highly unlikely.

I looked at Sean and said what the hell. I texted Ashley. "I miss you". She hit me back immediately with an "I miss you too". I followed, "Seeing your face would really cheer me up. Send me a picture of yourself". The thought being that she wouldn't be able to produce a picture of herself immediately and thus would further confirm our theory. Her response not ten seconds later, "I look kinda gross, just got back from the gym" and attached, a picture of a sweaty, but still pretty, smiling Ashley York. Go figure. I was dumbfounded. Sean and I looked at each other incredulously. We had no idea what to make of it.

Team Krashley wanted me to walk a fine line. Stay close, but not too close. Get more information, but don't be too obvious. Try to meet her, but be careful. It was a lot. I wanted a call from my government connection. I wanted an answer. On Monday morning, sitting at my desk I got a call...from 202.

My friend said that nothing checked out. None of the schools she claimed to have gone to she went to, and none of the places she claimed to have lived in she lived in. I remember very clearly, he said, "Finger, I advise you to steer clear". Easy for him to say, Ashley hadn't left him by the side of the road in East Hampton holding his balls, tennis balls that is. I'd heard the word of the Department of Homeland Security but I still really didn't have an answer.

As I said last time, I've known Troy since 1990, but I hadn't seen him or spoken to him in years. My second week of Michigan I was walking to the business school and I see this guy coming out of Red Hot Lovers, a tried and true Ann Arbor hot dog institution on East U. I squint and am thinking, wow that looks like Troy, and maybe it is since Troy had gone to Michigan undergrad. Lo and behold, it was Troy, and the icing on the cake, Troy had just purchased, yes purchased Red Hot Lovers. Over the course of that first year in business school Troy would come up periodically to check on business and I'd come into Red Hots and he'd hook me up with dogs, chili, fries, and we'd go out to the bars and hang out and catch up. It was fun. But when I had left a message for Troy it was a serious matter.

On Tuesday my cell rings. Troy. We catch up a bit, talk about work and Michigan and just shoot the shit. He apologized for not calling sooner but he'd been in Capri with his family. I said, "Troy, I gotta ask you a random question. Do you know a girl named Krista Marks, from Old Westbury".

Silence.

"Why" Troy says, like he's leaning in real close. I explain to him that I was in Aruba back in May, and this Krista Marks emails me and she's trying to set me up, and then Troy interrupts me mid-sentence. Two words.

"Ashley York"

Silence.

Me, "What?"

"Ashley York" Troy says again, softly and slowly.

I swear to God, every single hair on my body stood up at that point. Hell, it's doing the same thing right now. I remember, I was standing next to the window, looking down at the street. I was wearing a pink shirt, grey slacks, and my brown shoes. I remember exactly where I was standing when I heard Troy say, "Ashley York".

I said, "how did you know?" Now Troy starts screaming into the phone "oh my God, oh my God", and I'm screaming a little bit too, for what, I don't exactly know, but it seemed like the appropriate thing to do. Meanwhile, Jenny, my deskmate, nay, floormate is looking at me like I've literally lost my mind, but actually, I think I did. Once Troy and I stopped screaming at one another/together we started talking, quite frantically, as I tried to keep pace with what he was saying. What he first said was "stay away" and "you need to get away fast". I felt like my life was in danger and I asked as much, to which he said basically that it was. Shit. She knows where I live. I'm going to die.

Troy says, "Listen, I'm going to tell you something but you can't repeat it". I was all ears. He then delved deep into the craziest fucking story I've ever heard. I mean, you think this is all has been weird so far?...Child please.

Now it's been a while since I told Troy's tale, so if it's a little disjointed bare with me. And remember now, I'm at work and Troy is about to drop some knowledge. Here it goes...

Troy starts off by telling me back in 2003 when he was a senior at Michigan he lived with a few of his best friends. One of which was this guy named Cole. It was Troy and his friends' last semester. They were second semester seniors and when you are a second semester senior and you're single you basically try to live every single last day of COLLEGE like it's your last and Troy and his friends were doing just that, except for Cole. Cole had met some girl online that winter and had been spending an awful lot of time communicating with this girl. Pressed by Troy as to what the hell was going on with this girl online Cole had stated, somewhat reluctantly, that he had met this smoking hot girl online and that they'd spent a lot of time talking on the phone and emailing. In fact, they were officially dating. This girl's name, Ashley York.

At this point my chin hits the floor. I continue to listen. Troy says that Cole was extremely serious about Ashley to the point where he and Ashley had decided to continue to date when Cole graduated and moved back to Los Angeles. Ashley, for your edification, was working in New York at this point. Troy once asked Cole if he had even met Ashley, and Cole strangely, Troy said, never really gave him a good answer. This freaked Troy out, especially given that Cole's father had passed the year before and he had been on an emotional roller coaster for a year. This Ashley, Troy said, seemed to have given Cole something to latch onto at a difficult point in his life. Towards the end of the school year Troy told me that Cole and Ashley agreed to meet for the first time, in person, in New York. While Troy and all his friends cautioned Cole about the trip Cole seemed adamant and Troy said there was basically no talking the kid out of it. Cole left on a Friday, and he came back Sunday. When Cole came back all his friends were eagerly awaiting the full report. This was the girl Cole had fallen in love with online, and he'd finally gone to meet her in New York for the first time. Sounds romantic a little bit. Cole was bizarrely silent about his trip. He didn't say a word. Troy pressed, "did you guys meet up?". Cole's answer "no". At that point Troy and his friends were seriously worried about Cole, who from what Troy tells me, was pretty shaken up at the missed connection in New York, but Troy said Cole was undeterred, and apparently kept in close contact with Ashley post-Michigan, in what was a true bi-coastal long distance relationship. Troy moved the city and from time to time Cole would come to New York, to see friends, and to see his girlfriend Ashley. Troy tells me she always flaked on him. Every single time. One time she said she was too sick. One time she had an emergency work thing in another city. Time after time, month after month. But Cole kept coming back for more. Fast forward to the following winter, winter 2004. At this point, Troy says, Cole is seriously in a bad place, and even Cole's family is a little freaked out. He's been dating Ashley close to one year, and they still have, not, met. Cole decides he's going to invite Ashley to a Super Bowl party in New York and flies into the city. It's Super Bowl Sunday, and Troy and a bunch of his friends are about to head to the party and nobody can find Cole. Cole comes back the following day, in the morning, dressed in his same clothes from the day before, and of course everyone has been worried sick because Cole had literally dropped off the face of the earth for 24 hours, and all anyone knew was that he was supposed to be with Ashley. I'd say, "now this is where things get weird", but I feel like we got to that point a while ago, sooooo..., "now this is where things start crossing otherworldly boundaries". Troy gets in Cole's face and says, "where were you". Cole answers, "at the Super Bowl, in Houston, I went to meet Ashley". Yes, you read that correctly. Troy tells me he was dumbfounded. Apparently Cole had gotten to New York to learn that Ashley (the lover of big sporting events apparently...Wimbledon) had decided that morning to go to Houston for the game and told Cole to come. Cole BUYS A PLANE TICKET TO HOUSTON and flies to meet her. Arrives. Takes a cab to the Stadium and waits for Ashley outside the gate...

"And...." I say, literally on the brink of passing out.

"And he says he kissed her in the concourse".

"Okay, so there's proof she's real. He kissed her. He saw her. She's real"

And Troy says, "Finger, I've know Cole for a long time. He's one of my best friends. He's never lied to me about anything, but I know he was not telling the truth. He never saw her. He flew to Houston and back in one day for a girl who didn't even exist. He came back to New York and he acted like nothing ever happened and he never spoke her name ever again. I don't bring it up ever. None of my friends do. And Cole doesn't either".

Listen folks, I know. It's too strange to even believe, and you can imagine my reaction listening to Troy tell this story. What the hell was I to do with this information. I told Troy my story and he was excited. Excited because he wanted to catch her, whoever this was and make her pay for all the pain she had caused his best friend. Troy became an integral member of Team Krashley that day. You can imagine the phone call with Team Krashley that afternoon relaying this story to them. We were excited too. The most major breakthrough in the case yet, but there there was this feeling like, all right folks, we're dealing with someone who really might be dangerous and unstable. Had Ashley been up to her tricks since 2003? Were dealing with a professional here? A stone cold professional?

Maybe you don't poke this rattlesnake. Maybe you let sleeping dogs lie. Or maybe you hunker down, think a little harder, and smarter, and maybe you figure out who this "Ashley York" really is.

Ashley York Vol 5: Team Krashley & The Department of Homeland Security

Before I headed back to New York City that Sunday I received a message from Krista saying that Ashley had missed her flight to London and was decompressing at her parents home in New Jersey. Of course, as always, Krista told me I really wasn't supposed to know this, and suggested that it might lift Ashley's spirits if I called her. Clearly Krista didn't quite understand the drama that had taken place the day before. I don't even think I responded to Krista at that point, although I might've written back a token, "that's horrible", but I just wanted it to be Monday already and get as far away from that wretched weekend as possible.

I'd just settled in back in the city that evening, when I received a Facebook message from Ashley confirming what Krista had told me. I felt bad for Ashley, because not only was it a really sour note to end an already crappy weekend, but also because she missed arguably the best tennis match of all time, Nadal's five set triumph over Federer. I felt bad, but not bad enough to respond. I was still pretty pissed, so I went to sleep.

Now let me pause to tell you briefly about my set up at work at this time. I was working on an extremely large trading floor. How large you ask...you can air out a fly pattern from one end to the other pretty easily. And more, not a single soul inhabited a single seat on the ENTIRE trading floor except for my friend Jenny, who was in my program and was also interning in the same group. The two of us sat next to each other in the back corner of the last row. It was the world largest corner office as far as I was concernd, with windows all around, and just the buzzing of computers and fluorescent lights. I'm sitting at my desk on Monday and it couldn't have been much before 10am that I received a text from Ashley saying hello. We were clearly regressing, as her last two attempts to reach out were via Facebook and texting, and not talking over the phone. I had bigger fish to fry though. I'd told this story to a few friends at this point and as you could imagine it piqued some serious interest. As such, I thought that it might be better to assess this situation with Krista and Ashley with multiple people versus just me. So I assembled what came to be known as "Team Krashley", you know, a mash-up of Krista and Ashley, like Brad and Angelina's "Brangelina".

Team Krashley would end up expanding extraordinarily quickly, but I'll just tell you the original participants. Eric, who I mentioned in last week's edition, had taken an immediate fascination with this story and like me, really wanted to know who this girl actually was, aside from just the "stats" that I'd gathered over the past few weeks. James, an early proponent of the "there's something here that we're missing" school of thought, and methodical thinker and puzzle solver. Amanda, basically Amanda was the closer, like Mariano Rivera. If we were close, she was going to tie a bow around it, and actually had done so in another strange "caper" back in college (don't even bother asking because I don't have the time). My sister, who's Facebooking abilities are unparalleled, and also, my Dad was still maintained an interest, because like everyone else (and you) he was curious as to what the hell had happened that Saturday.

Team Krashley knew one thing: something was clearly amiss, and we were going to stop at pretty much nothing to figure it out. So we held several conference calls that monday laying out what we knew as the facts. I re-hashed the story and the lead up to that Saturday more times than I cared for but it was worth it, because we began asking each other questions that pointed to a number of strange issues. But before I go there, back to Ashley...

On Monday night I called Ashley. I wasn't having any of this Facebook or text messaging grab-ass anymore. She picked up, and we spoke, but really didn't hit too much on that past Saturday since I think we'd beaten a dead horse already. I said, "let's meet up tomorrow" for a drink. She said no, citing some event and some other issues at work, which had apparently become a major concern for her. I knew work was tough and she thought she could get let go, but now she seemed to suggest that this could easily be her last week. After she said no, I kind of just let the conversation die. I wasn't interested in talking about politics or Sesame street or scallops or otters. I wanted a date. Talk was cheap. I said goodnight.

The next day Team Krashley had an early conference call. First item up was the issue of Ashley's employment at Elle Magazine. Now earlier I told you that Ashley was only a contributor to the mag. I'd googled and I couldn't find a story with any byline mentioning Ashley York. Team Krashley agreed that we needed to figure out if Ashley really worked at Elle. We all agreed we'd call Elle's office and ask to speak to Ashley York separately to see what happened. Well, it was unanimous, there was no Ashley York who worked at Elle.

I protested though saying that she wasn't a full-time employee, but I had to say that it was interesting that nobody at Elle knew anything of this Ashley York, contributor, full-time, part-time or otherwise. But if you remembered from last week, I'd seen a blond in a black BMW drive by me as I sat outside of La Fondita. It had to have been her. It really did. What did a bitchy secretary at Elle know about part-time contributors anyway.

I thought a lot about it that night. I think I saw her. I knew I spoke to her. This Elle thing really was strange though but I could easily explain why her name wasn't on anything associated with the magazine. We actually caught up from a brief second that night after her event. She said that she wished we'd gone out instead of her going to this horrible work event. I'd wished the same thing, but I kept to myself. She sounded really sweet over the phone, like she knew she'd messed up, but maybe that was me projecting. We said goodnight and then I got a message from Krista..

July 8, 2008 at 12:18am

She justgot home and its the first time Ive seen her since. She came back from this foo foo fete. I askked her in passing bout u and she said shes a little confused. Shes ok w/ everything and said u wrote a nice email to her YAYAYAY! But shes a lil irked bout this past wknd. But thenwas like u wanted to see her tonite. And that u were really persistent bout it.

I think u need to just be u and let it come naturally. Think u two went thru somethin awkward and need to just do what u to do and talk. Maybe dont add the pressure of mtg up but get her all gaga bout u again. Just my opinion. U still like her?

I responded...

July 9, 2008 at 12:40am

Yeah, I wanted to see her and kind of put this thing in the past. I don't know. Still some things that just don't make sense. Just spoke to her and it was fine. We'll see though.

I got to work the next morning and stared at my computer screen. I recalled Ashley saying that she had had an event at the MoMA in Brooklyn. I remembered at the time thinking that there was no MoMA in Brooklyn, so I called the MoMA and asked to speak to someone in event planning. A very nice girl picked up and we had a lovely conversation. I asked her if Elle had recently had an event at the MoMA, and her answer, "yes". So maybe Ashley had been telling the truth. The girl interrupted, "wait, no, I'm sorry, they have an event scheduled for this Fall, they didn't have an event last week". And as for the MoMA in Brooklyn, "no, there's no such thing". I scratched my head and called Team Krashley. We all agreed that things were getting awfully weird and really weren't adding up.

What else did we know? Well between the bunch of us we knew a lot of people who had gone to Spence during the years that Ashley had attended the school. And if you don't know, there are probably 30 or so girls in each grade, so it's a very small school. The next day when we reconvened, the answers were unanimous, nobody had recalled a pretty British girl joining their classes. I had 500 people in my high school class, and I'm pretty sure I could name close to 80% of them if really pressed, so in a class of 30, if someone didn't remember someone, I mean, I don't know, but that's suspect. To be thorough, we then asked all of our Georgetown contacts too, and nobody had heard of her either, not even the alumni representative for the Class of 2004 which was Ashley's class.

The best part of Team Krashley was that we fueled each other's madness and we would constantly update one another even with the most trivial piece of information. It was kind of fun. As for Jenny, my deskmate, she thought I was absolutely crazy and couldn't understand why on God's green Earth my phone was ringing off the hook...until I told her the story and Team Krashley grew by one. And that was the real beauty of it. Team Krashley continued to grow with every new person that got involved. It was viral. It was crazy. Everyone loves a good mystery. Everyone loves solving a good mystery even more. And we were a bunch of over-achieving New Yorkers with a big network and a slow month of July.

Later that night I checked my facebook and had two messages from Krista from that day continuing on our prior conversation. One message from the morning and one from the evening. I didn't have a blackberry at this point so there was no mobile Facebooking for me, thus all the evening Facebook activity (just so you know).

She wrote...

July 9, 2008 at 9:43am

Ok wow. I just spoke to Ashley via phone and she said the same thing. "Things don't make sense" and "he was being weird"... WHY ARE U TWO BEING LIKE THIS!!! GET OVER URSRLVES!!! Unless u don't want this. Grow up people!!

Sent via Facebook Mobile

July 9, 2008 at 8:38pm

REMEMBER UR THE GUY!!!!!! CHASING THE HOT SMART GIRL!!!!

HAVE A GOOD NITE!

At this point things had really tapered off with Ashley. I had pretty much stopped "chasing the hot smart girl!!!". Ashley seemed to get kind of desperate on the text, saying she missed me and how she hoped we could give it another try. While I took a pretty passive approach to it all, it was kind of hard to forget about the person I'd really come to enjoy speaking to over the phone. I hadn't completely given up but I just needed to figure some things out, but the more I figured out the more this whole thing not only bothered me, but scared me. In fact, seeing as that Ashley knew where I lived I started getting a little bit paranoid that she was going to sneak up on me as I was coming in my building. I'm being honest. Team Krashley advised me to be alert, and then as we spoke about security James suggested something that I cannot believe we didn't think of earlier. We had a friend who was working at the Department of Homeland Security. Why not just do a background check? Like a full on Hunt for Red October meets The Bourne Identity meets Blackhawk Down meets 100% USDA Certified BACKGROUND CHECK. I mean, we all paid our taxes, so we were surely entitled to one measly government background check per year, right?

We called our friend and left a voicemail. Later that day I get a call on my cell phone from a 202 number. Not 202-something. Just 202. Washington. D. C...it was The Government.

I quickly gave my friend the full rundown. He asked me to send him as much information on Ashley as I knew and he'd see if he could run it to his friend who had the access to run a check. I gave him the kitchen sink. I mean, I poured everything everything everything into email and sent it off. Team Krashley was riding high, but what did this all mean for me?

Everything seemed to point to Ashley not being honest, about anything, yet I was speaking to someone the entire time. It was a real person, and an engaging person at that. But why would this person lie so badly to me, seemingly about everything. It didn't make sense.

That night I got on the computer and started checking out some of the mutual friends I had with Ashley. None. Krista...one. My friend Troy who I'd known since summer camp when we were 8 years old. He grew up in Old Westbury, where Krista had grown up. When I say that Troy knew everyone in Long Island I do not exaggerate.

The next day at work I called Troy and left a voicemail. We didn't speak often, so I just said that I was hoping to catch up with him and that I had a question about someone from Long Island he might know.

Contact with Ashley was beginning to trickle to a slow drip. The second half of the week was even more strange because loudmouth Krista was eerily quiet. We'd made a lot of good progress that week and I awaited two incredibly important calls, one from the United States Department of Homeland Security and one from Troy. I knew one would come through big time, but the one who would come through big time was not the one I anticipated, and further, the call I would get the following week would not only blow this case wide open, but also would take this Ashley York saga into uncharted waters even I wasn't not willing to swim in.