Usually, when a party promoter sends out a mass email, it’s about a two-for-one tequila night at some strip bar or other. But not Matt Tratner. He just forwarded everyone on the scene a grisly account of sheer horror that happened when a friend he trusted turned Matt’s apartment into a Stephen King novel. I can only hope this is some kind of colossal joke–and probably Matt does too.
Anyway, here’s the email:
“The whole time the police are thinking he is me and calling to ‘Matt to please come down and let us help you’. The only thing he did do RIGHT was open the door sometime in the afternoon and let my dog go before he tried to burn down the apt. I was lucky a neighbor saw her as the police were taking her to the pound. My neighbor was kind enough to take her in and kept telling the police that the man in the apt was not me…but they wouldn’t listen. She also told them to take her name and number so that I could be reunited with my dog…but the police would not take any info. I had taken the first plane home from London and the whole ride the flight crew were speechless as I sat in my seat quietly crying to myself the whole way back to NYC…only imagining the distruction and praying that all the people who I had spoken to were being over dramatic but sadly they were not able to put into words the amount of loss and damage. When the plane landed I was taking directly to the hospital…NOT my apt. Because the Man in the bed had my identity and the police said that the hospital would not change any of the info without seeing my ID first to prove that I was indeed Matt Tratner.
“Then I had to identify the man chained to the bed with the police guard. I was then taken to the police station where I was told that he was deemed insane and that there can be no criminal charges. Then in tears I was taken to the building managers office where I was going to find out the extent of the horror. They showed me photos trying to prepare me…but still that was nothing to the real thing and finally I asked if I may see my home. The manager asked if he could send a security guard with me. I replied that if its not a crime scene then why do I need a guard? He informed me that the guard was for me…He didn’t want me to walk into the apartment alone to see the devistation. I insisted on going in alone and walking up to the boarded up windows of my home, that started the tears all over….walking to where the door once was and now had a temporary cover still didn’t prepare me.
“When I opened the door the smell of death and blood was all around me. I couldn’t see how damaged the floors were because there was no way to see the floors under the inch of rubble, glass and debris. The halls were filled with garbage, torn garments soaked and pieces of everything I owned. I tried to find anything that he didn’t ruin but it was pointless. He must have been bleeding for hours because every wall was covered in his blood, the over turned beds coated in it…the closets floors, door. Parts of my sofa were in the bathtub….the body of the sofa overturned in the living room gutted and smashed bottles of wine and urine saturated the stuffing. Dressers over turned and soaked…my computer ripped to pieces and scatted all over the apt. mirrors smashed, tables broken in half. Anything that was glass shattered and scattered on the floors including many priceless family heirlooms. Photos of loved ones in broken frames laying on the soaked floors in ruins, nothing….nothing is left – now am homeless, all my possessions are gone.
“I am trying my best to salvage what can be….but there is very little that can be salvaged. I am alive…my pup is fine and healthy and its a new day. I went to the hospital to see my friend…I don’t have hate in my heart… there is no room for it. He did not do this to me because he hates me…He is an ill person. He is scared and alone and badly badly hurt…chained to a bed and he has no memory and does not know why. Why seems to be the only word that can be said. I have lost everything…But I will start again!”