Trigger warning: self-harm, suicide.
On September 14, 2001, a young man in his twenties checked into the Lake Quinault Inn in a sleepy, nondescript town close to Washingtonâs Pacific coastline under the name of Lyle Stevik.
However, Stevik returned to the front desk just 60 minutes later â visibly agitated and disturbed. The young man told the receptionist that the trailer park was too noisy and that he wanted to switch rooms.
The receptionist recalled that Stevik avoided eye contact and was acting strangely.
She handed him the key to room five, where he stayed that night and the following night.
On September 17, the Inn’s housekeeper knocked on Stevik’s door but received no response.
Because Stevik was late to check out, the woman assumed he had already left.
The housekeeper turned the handle and entered the room slowly. She noticed the young man kneeling in an alcove in the room’s left-hand corner: his back to the door, arms by his sides, head tilted back, and his eyes open, staring at the ceiling.
At first sight, Stevik appeared to be praying, but something didn’t feel quite right.
His wrists were limp, his fingers relaxed, his loose Leviâs jeans hung off his skinny waist.
Fearing for the worst, the housekeeper informed the Inn’s owner about her discovery, who promptly rushed to the room.
Upon closer inspection, the man noticed that a leather belt was tightly wrapped around Stevik’s throat on one end and attached to the room’s metal coat rack on the other.
Thatâs when they realized the man had taken his own life.
On a nightstand, Stevik left a folded card with the words âFOR THE ROOMâ scrawled on the back. Inside were eight crisp $20 bills, covering his bill for the previous two nights, along with a generous tip.
On the nightstand shelf, there lay a Gideon Bible with a bookmark between pages 1050 and 1051, containing John 12:33, which reads, âThis he said, signifying what death he should die.â
In a small black trashcan under the nightstand, the police discovered the previous morning’s copy of a local newspaper and an empty plastic Pepsi cup.
Next to them, they found a crumpled piece of thick white paper with âSUICIDEâ written in block capitals.
The deceased didn’t have any identification or identifying luggage with him, only toiletries such as a toothbrush and toothpaste, a pen, and some loose change.
Prior to his suicide, Stevik was seen pacing up and down a highway and sitting on the porch in front of his room. The young man requested towels but later said he did not need his room cleaned.
Law enforcement attempted to uncover the man’s identity by searching through numerous databases, phone directories, search engines, electoral rolls, and census records.
But Lyle Stevik did not exist.
During autopsy, a coroner noted Stevik had partially healed abrasions on his knuckles. The rest of his body was a blank canvas.
For 17 years, the cold case has haunted people across the world.
Websleuths and conspiracy theorists speculated about Stevik’s possible connection to the September 11 terror attacks because he had committed suicide just six days after the atrocity that claimed the lives of nearly 3,000 people.
Some claimed he appeared to have Middle Eastern descent and speculated that he may have been involved with the hijackers after police released a photofit of him. Others suggested nobody came forward to claim his body because he was a cult member â or even a spy.
However, in 2018, police announced that Lyle Stevik was finally identified with the help of genetic genealogy. The man’s family said that Stevik was 25 years old when he died and they had believed that he was estranged from the family.
To protect his and their privacy, his family has chosen not to identify him publicly.
