Same Floor, Same Week: Uncovering the Dark Coincidences Behind Mandy Blank's Death
TLDR: Two bodies were found on the same floor within a week of each other. A little over a year later there was a murder. Two of the three are connected.
I’ve waited almost six years to write this post. Not due to lack of trying but lack of clarity within myself.
I wrote about it when it happened, but didn’t reveal my connection - only that in a similar fashion to the TV show Pokerface “I just ‘happened’ to be there.”
I wasn’t “just there.”
I was literally there when her body was found (I chose not to see her) and was one of the people who called 911.
I dialed the phone number, but couldn’t speak so I handed it to the movers that were moving out my now other dead neighbor’s items from her apartment.
I handled the media for Mandy’s death … and it taught me a WHOLLLLEEEE lot about shit I can never unsee or hear.
Wow, I’m already tearing up … I guess I really am finally ready to release this.
Maestro …
I met Mandy Blank soon after I moved into the same building as her in late 2015. Not only were we in the same building, we were on the same floor. It was a series of chance run ins with her cat Sparky and my then dog Buster Brown who let’s just say was less than fond of cats.
I would apologize, and explain that when I first got him, I had to pull a cat out of his mouth. Something I wouldn’t ever want to do again.
She understood and would laugh, we were endeared to each other almost immediately.
Mandy was not only stunningly beautiful …
… I mean look at her …
… But she had this remarkable connectivity with people.
she held This undeniable belief in love, and in her art (which happened to be her body) … and this relentless confidence that if she held onto both, all of her dreams would come true.
I loved this photo so much, I used it for the front page of her memorial.
You probably saw these photos and headlines after she passed.
She remained the number one Mandy in Apple News and Google Search for other a month (I know this because I tracked it).
Mandy and I became fast friends over many encounters on the roof top. She and our other neighbor, who lived across the hall from her had this effortless coolness that I was drawn to.
Imagine Karen and Jack from Will and Grace, but Karen was a supermodel and Jack was an Flight Attendant with his own dreams of one day being a “House Husband.”
They appeared to be authentically themselves, something that I learned would be a theme with friends I made in the building.
I fit into my new digs like a glove. Fresh off living on an island, and coming back with a Put Pilot at CBS (based on MY LIFE) driven by none other than Jerry Bruckheimer … that was announced in the SAME WEEK that I appeared on a CNBC show called the “West Texas Investors Club.”
I had ghosted my own life choosing love, and came back with a big swing in a direction I had always hoped for.
The Flight Attendant and Mandy dealt with Hollywood in their own ways. The Flight Attendant serving executives and celebrities on private planes, and Mandy trained them.
I liked that I was in such a creative space with creative people who also appeared to be very grounded (except for when the Flight Attendant was literally in the air).
The first few years living in the building were some of the best of my life.
Not only was I introduced to my husband because of our building, but I also met my chosen little sister who ultimately became my maid of honor.
We threw the BEST parties, always with consideration and understanding of others. I brought boxed wine (which was quoted in the Maid of Honors speech) and we all potlucked whatever we needed to maximize fun at all times.
I saved a lot of money in those first few years because all we ever did was hang out in each other’s places. There was always a birthday, or event that needed to be celebrated … and if god forbid there wasn’t, we’d make one.
Clearly, I was having sensory issues that day …
The Flight Attendant, Mandy and I were like the three amigos.
I was like the Kimmy Gibler to their non-sexual Viper and DJ’s dynamic inside our haunted mansion of a building’s already Full House.
Mandy and the Flight Attendant had this “dramatic flair” that was both visually appealing and fun to be around - life was lived in the key of “extra.” Extra makeup, extra hair product, extra accessories … extra is inclusive of all things and seemingly without limitations.
I very strongly felt that from them both and she helped me become my own version of “extra.”
Mandy called everyone she championed “warriors” and it was not just a word to her, but a way of life.
I vividly remember coming back after a pitch meeting for my startup at the SoHo House, where someone (who ultimately became one of my mentors) commented mid-meeting that “my mind was like a steel trap.” Considering he was a shark, I took it as a HUGE compliment.
I was getting out of my Uber at the same time as Mandy happened to be coming back from a very expensive trip to Jamaica courtesy of the Flight Attendant.
Coming off my own non-Jamaican “high,” I stopped dead in my tracks when I saw her.
She was sooo tan, and seemed sooooo relaxed. I knew she was staying at the resort where 007 GoldenEye was either written or filmed, but either way, that Bond water did her GOOD.
She shouted with excitement from her Uber with the window down, “how’d your meeting go, Jen?” (She didn’t know about this specific meeting but could tell based on my attire that I had just come back from one.)
I shouted back closing the Uber door, “I FUCKING CRUSHED IT!!!”
Mandy was everyone’s BIGGEST cheerleader - despite the other parties intentions.
I was juggling a lot at that time with the energy of ACTUALLY having a pilot up for pilot season at the same time as having a start up, at the same time as ghostwriting that I did on the side to be able to afford said “extra” space (#startuplife).
I ghostwrote for Rick Ross, Poison, Aerosmith, 30 Seconds to Mars, Lindsay Lohan, Maroon 5, and a few other bands and brands that I know I’m forgetting.
<tangent> This is the part about being REALLY gifted with synethesia and autism (even though I had yet to be diagnosed). NONE of these bands and brands sound alike, yet I could get inside their “heads” with very specific (what I would call) rituals. I had a routine and an auditory cue (meaning playlist) for each brand and artist. </tangent>
Mandy, the Flight Attendant, myself and two new songstress neighbors (they were in LA to pursue their music careers) were all piled into the back of an Uber one night to again celebrate someone … over at Dan Tana’s.
En route, I got a text that Rick’s people read what I wrote and wanted me to be on his #TeamRozay. I laughed KNOWING that I had produced something “safe” for the client’s sake, but had also come up with a cool idea that I thought would work tone wise. They thought it was HILARIOUS, and suddenly whatever event we were going to, turned into a celebration that still ranks as top 10 of the coolest moments of my life.
As a white girl from Connecticut being able to NAIL Rick Ross’ voice was EVERYTHING TO ME. *Edited convo but i still use it as a reference.
"DIE!?" Don't say it if you don't mean it ... I kid, I kid. I'm also not kidding, the voice of Rick Ross came up with INCREDIBLE ways to pair his champagne with food to please yo' lady. (Just kidding, he wouldn't speak like that.)
After we ate, we went dancing at a place where another neighbor greeted us at the door … literally because he worked there.
Mandy commented on what a cool accomplishment this was for me.
I thanked her BEAMING with a light you could see from space.
She commented on the risk that I took, and I said (before grabbing us drinks) “it wasn’t a risk. I trust my instincts - and if it wasn’t a fit, then so be it. I’d rather not be a fit than waste my time.”
We then went to go meet up with the other two neighbors, as I noticed them both giving Mandy this “I’m better than you, look.”
I have no idea what the impetus was, but first of all, don’t fuck with my friends in front of me, or we will have a problem.
Second of all, I pretended not to see as I immediately grabbed Mandy pulling her onto the dance floor, cheersing our drinks like we were the HOTTEST shit in Hollywood that night.
Since one of the two women ended up introducing me to my husband … I’m just going to chalk that up to her having a bad night … although I still never liked the other neighbor.
Anywho, after that night Mandy and I continued to bond more. She even began watching Buster when I would have to leave town frequently for pitches. She lovingly would send me Snaps she took of him dressed up in little outfits she made for him.
Mandy treated animals with the same love and respect she showed everyone -they were her family.
She didn’t talk a lot about her own family (outside of Sparky), but one day while standing at the elevator, I ended up meeting her nephew.
Since we were on the same floor, we rode up together. He kept looking up at me (he was around six) and commented before leaving “you look like a storybook princess witch.”
I don’t know if he meant princess or witch, or if there’s a witch princess … but I took it as a compliment realizing he was going to turn out one day to be just as cool as his Auntie.
As the weeks went by, I could tell that the air was noticeably shifting.
Historically, every time I would go into the Flight Attendant’s apartment, Mandy would pop in Three’s Company style.
I asked why she wasn’t around, and was met with mixed responses.
“She’s working (which is true she was a work-aholic).”
I had asked so many times about where she was that finally the truth started to bubble up.
While Mandy’s accomplishments in bodybuilding and modeling adorned her walls, there was also a noticeable emptiness to her at times.
If you’re on stage you get the feeling of the lights, but lights can be lonely if you’re under them for too long.
The audience that you are performing for are at a distance. The cheering is all muffled together like one single entity.
While that was one side of Mandy, her true gift was connection.
“I think she thinks we are going to ‘be’ together,” Flight Attendant said one night.
Being an undiagnosed autistic woman, I said the obvious, “umm … you’re looking for a House Husband.”
“Correct, I am not sure where this is coming from.”
I wasn’t sure either since a burrito is very different from a taco. Yes, sometimes one might crave the other, but in terms of how the Flight Attendant spoke (sometimes shockingly graphic to someone who spent most of their career a dating blogger) he was very much into burritos (from my understanding). It’s not my place to speak on anyone’s sexuality more, but if something walks like a duck, acts like a duck, quacks like a duck, a duck is a duck, and I know I was presented with a duck.
I took what he said with a grain of salt.
Dynamics in friendships can change … what these two had, was undeniable (in my mind).
Over the next few months, I noticed the conversations changing to other people in the building.
We were truly a Motley Crue of characters, so it still wasn’t abnormal to me … I too was fascinated by the constant state of sliding doors of interesting people.
At lobby parties, and game nights (which I hosted) I noticed Mandy withdrawing more and more.
When she would come down, it was for brief visits or she would sit with neighbors she wouldn’t normally sit with.
Again, not abnormal, but I picked up on something … Mandy and the Flight Attendant were really going “through” it.
As someone who cared, of course, I was there independently for both of them, but THERE WAS A BIG ELEPHANT IN THE ROOM AND the tension was suffocating.
That Thanksgiving, like any good potentially dysfunctional chosen family, the three of us all went out to dinner in Hollywood.
The Flight Attendant asked if he could order a bottle of wine (as it was a special occasion).
Of course, I said knowing economically ordering a bottle may sound “fancy” but it’s also a great way to save money.
The Flight Attendant has this way of glossing over discomfort - which I’m sure makes him excellent at what he does. I could tell things were tense, but as the bottle went down, so did everything feeling like it was back “just the way it was.”
The bill came, as we all agreed to split it.
Nearly choking on the mint placed next to the check, I GASPED.
In the Connecticut Etiquette world I grew up in, if someone wanted to order a nice bottle of wine and they were splitting the check you would either confirm everyone was comfortable paying for it, or you would put said item on your tab (and then everyone splits the rest of the bill).
Splitting a $300 bottle between three people might not sound outrageous, but it was not at all what I had budgeted and I was shocked at his lack of awareness around it.
Later that evening, Mandy and the FA were scheduled to do a staycation somewhere in Hollywood. As I went to grab my Uber, Mandy came out and said, “hey can I get a ride back with you?”
“Sure,” I said knowing no questions asked was the right lane to travel in.
I don’t know what happened between them that night. It’s none of my business.
My point in sharing all of this isn’t to gossip about what happened, but share what I know to be true … BECAUSE THIS LIFE EXPERIENCE IS STILL SURREAL TO ME.
I do remember tidbits of what the Flight Attendant said happened that evening, but I couldn’t tell what to base in reality. Taking a cue from him, and glossing over … I then rallied the troops to plan the building’s Christmas Party.
One of our neighbors suggested doing a Cowboy Christmas.
Having never heard of such a thing, I thought it was brilliant and made flyers and coordinated with on site management around the timing and who could bring what.
A few weeks later, we had a Cowboy Christmas party.
Like Scorpion in Mortal Kombat, whether you wanted to attend our parties or not, there was a tangible pull in the tone of “GET OVER HERE” that even the most introverted of neighbors couldn’t resist.
To my surprise, one of the most reclusive neighbors was corralled into our rodeo by none other than Mandy.
“Can you take a picture of Batz and me,” she asked (as I was, like many people, frequently her photographer).
<editorsnote> Batz and I became friends when I first moved into the building. He was “big and scary looking” and as a single woman, I wanted to be friends with someone “big and scary” incase I ever needed it. He helped me a lot later on … but let me not get too ahead of myself. </editorsnote>
Continuing the alliterating holiday parties, that New Years Eve, we also threw a “Priests and Prostitutes” party (later renamed to “saints and sinners”).
Mandy also gave me these shoes with her blessing: “May they never touch the floor … only grace the ceiling.”
For those counting, 99% of the building went as a Sinner, and only my soon to be Maid of Honor came dressed as a Saint.
A few months later, one of our neighbors decided she wanted to enter into the world of stand up.
Yes, and-ing her desire, a group of us used our connections to different venues and teachers to help her out.
Oh, and did I mention this neighbor happened to be 80 at the time?
LIVING for every moment of this, I placed calls and asked if I could see what she was planning to perform. I can help you “punch it up” if you’re interested.
She said she was, I spent the rest of the afternoon inside the head of an 80 year old woman who’s name happens to legally be Gay Baker.
A GAY BAKER IS GOING TO DO STANDUP IN LA AT 80 YEARS OF AGE?!?!
I was FULLY invested at this point, and again rallied the troops. Mandy suggested outfitting her for her performance. I helped her select and brought the clothes down to Gay’s apartment.
Here, she said knocking on my own door after. I picked this for you.
Knowing how much I admired Mandy’s style and vibe, I LEPT at the opportunity to be dressed by her.
This is what she picked out … I took this selfie in her apartment.
Our neighbor CRUSHED her standup, but she refused to go by “Gay Baker” and also refused any edits writers in the community had made.
A few months later, my dog Buster started to suffer from horrific allergies. His skin was red, and he lost hair on his paws. Having not been diagnosed with synesthesia yet, I had no idea that I truly have no sense of smell. I can smell things at a 1-2 and 9-10. If something smells really good, I can smell it or really bad. I was in a porta potty post diagnosis and caught myself “feeling the smell” and thinking “OMG THIS SMELLS” but I didn’t ACTUALLY smell it.
Fortunately, having a friend in the form of the Flight Attendant came in handy.
We were on our way to a party and he said, I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but you smell like Buster. It’s really bad.”
I thanked him for his honesty, not realizing it myself, as I quickly changed clothes.
Later that day I started an almost chant like phrase of “I JUST WANT TO BURN THIS … I JUST WANT TO BURN THIS CHAIR … THESE CLOTHES … I picked up that a LOT of things smelled, and I was frustrated that I couldn’t get to the bottom of his allergies.
I then one day blurted out MAYBE I SHOULD JUST GO TO BURNING MAN.
A sentence I NEVVVERRRR thought I would say as “burners” to me were tech bros and epic douches.
I happened to say it that day in front of the singer I went to Dan Tana’s with.
I actually go to the Burn each year, if you’re serious, I’m happy to see if we can get you into our camp.
Immediately regretting my declaration, STRICKEN WITH PANIC, I said “let me think about it. But if there is anyone to go with, I know you would be the perfect person (as I trusted her judgement excluding the evening with Mandy).”
I was still working with the production team behind the West Texas Investors Club at the time, when I too shared this realization with a producer.
“Have you ever been to Burning Man?”
“YOU HAVEN’T BEEN TO BURNING MAN?!” he said shocked.
“No, I don’t like to be in situations I can’t get myself out of. If I’m there, I’m locked in. What if I have a panic attack? What if people hold me down and put drugs down my throat??!?!” (These were actual fears that I had.)
“The Burn is nothing like that,” he said. “Think it over, and if you’re serious, I think I can help you. You’ve done a lot of extra work for the guys and consider it my thank you.”
Not knowing what he meant, but KNOWING I HAVE WORKED MY ASS OFF FOR THE TEAM, I reached back out to the singer about the reality of getting a ticket.
“I think we can get you a ticket, but the camp has to approve you.”
“Okay,” I said. “I’m ready. And if they approve me awesome. If not, it wasn’t meant to be.”
“The Burn calls you,” she said.
I laughed thinking the last time I was called to a burn was with a really bad UTI.
I then went back to the producer and told him that I had to go to a meeting with the camp to see if I was approved. I admitted I was ready to Burn, whatever that actually meant.
“Great, and I’d be delighted to gift you all of the things you will need. It’s not a plug and play, but I’ll get you a bike, backpack filled with supplies, if you can get an RV with your friends great - just know that everything else (minus food) will be provided … as the playa provides.”
Still unsure of what he meant, what I knew from winning on the Price is Right is that he gifted me close to $2,000 worth of supplies for the Burn.
In the weeks leading up, Mandy in particular was super impressed I was going.
“They say to have an intention going in,” I said over wine and a soon-to-be-intention setting ceremony in her apartment.
“What’s your intention,” she asked (wow - head to toe chills as I’m writing this).
“I want to find my husband. I’m ready, but not just anyone, like my person. That’s why I went as a “Hot Wife Fetish” to the Saints and Sinners party.”
“I could never go to Burning Man, but I do know from clients who have gone, it’s a special place. Let’s set the intention that you will find him.”
We closed our eyes as she asked a series of questions and then found answers in a book she had nearby. I then drew a card, and she read the meaning behind it. I don’t remember the meaning of either since I was so terrified at the thought of ACTUALLY going.
Once I saw all the items my friend had made for me, it jolted me out of my head and into my body of “THIS IS HAPPENING.”
True to the power of the Burn, I did end up meeting someone there, and come to find out … he had already spent time in our building.
When I got back I saw Mandy as she was lifting a bike into the elevator.
“DID YOU FIND HIM????” she said with unapologetic enthusiasm while literally (wo)manhandling a large bike to fit in a teeny tiny elevator.
“Well, I found someone I like. So it’s a start. We’ll see how he does …” I said with a confident smile.
“FUCK YESSSSSS,” she screamed knowing in her heart that if I could find love, so could she.
The last time I saw Mandy alive, was about two weeks before she died.
I was in the Flight Attendant’s apartment, and she gave him a book that he had always wanted. It was a beautiful moment between them, and while I wasn’t sure where everything was “at” I did know that I still saw the love and respect that I had admired about them both initially.
I went out later that evening, and got a text to meet them down the street. It was a club, and having undiagnosed sensory issues, I couldn’t go out with them that night, but could use a ride home since we were so close- I asked if we could share a car.
I met up with them briefly inside the club as we then quickly piled into the ride share heading home.
En route, Mandy stopped off at a house a few blocks away from where we lived.
“It’ll just be a second,” she said opening the door.
“What’s happening?” I asked wondering where another body was going to fit in the tiny car.
Mandy then made a sound and her cat Sparky came rip roaring around from the back of the house into the Uber.
Shocked, but delighted to see Sparky, I laughed going “soooooo you just casually drop your cat off at someone’s house and bring him home in a ride share?”
“Yes,” she said. “He needs to hunt for mice.”
I laughed, again, not that I needed more validation, but Mandy Blank was one of the coolest people I’ve known.
At the end of the ride, she asked if we could all go dancing. She indicated that next week wasn’t great for her client wise, but the week after she should be free.
Not a problem, I said, let’s pencil in for a week from Thursday.
The next week, I came home from work on October 25th, a little early, and saw police cars, and the on site manager’s daughter in the lobby.
“What happened?” I asked knowing it was more cop cars than the usual bi-weekly occurrence of strange things happening requiring police assistance.
“Cara is dead.”
“My neighbor, Cara?!” I said with the whites in my eyes widening.
Yes, they just found her body.
Do they know what happened?
No, she said.
Wowwwwwww … let me go put Buster upstairs I said, and I’ll come back down.
I then took the elevator upstairs, and as I walked down the hall, TOUCHING MY DOOR … the door was to the right … men in handcuffs were to the left with what looked like zip ties being used as handcuffs.
I shook as I put the key in the door trying to pretend not to see them.
I IMMEDIATELY locked the door and turned on every light … as I shuffled through my bag to find my phone and call my boyfriend.
THE WOMAN ACROSS THE HALL IS DEAD, I SAID WITHOUT ANY TACT. IF SHE WAS MURDERED, I’M MOVING OUT.
He calmed me down to a place of quasi-functioning. Just go to a safe space and I’ll come by after work.
Considering what was happening … WAS HAPPENING AT MY DOOR, I couldn’t even sit with the on site manager’s daughter.
It was too much … I was too freaked out.
All I knew at that point was that she had been in there for a few days. At the time, no one else lived in our little nook of a wing. If there was foul play, they would have had to WALK BY MY DOOR TO COMMIT IT.
It was too much for my system to take, so I grabbed headphones and walked to my favorite watering hole knowing I could tell the people there everything or nothing.
Grounding myself, I sat in a booth searching for her on Facebook. I had known her for three years at that point, but barely knew anything about her. Packages would sometimes get misplaced at my door, so I knew her last name … logically I searched on Facebook and saw we had two mutual friends.
One of whom was my buddy Spikey Mikey, from Myspace days.
Which surprised me since her body was LITERALLY just found. Clearly they were good friends to be called this quickly.
Again, none of my business.
My boyfriend picked me up from the watering hole some time later. Fortunately the police activity was gone, and in its place was a blue sticker from the coroner. Proof that what was happening “is actually happening” and this wasn’t a “joke.”
I got a text later that evening from the Flight Attendant making sure I was okay.
I’m fine, I said. The coroner seal is freaking me out, but I’ll be okay.
This is an actual photo of the coroner seal that was placed between the door crack and the frame.
I can imagine it would freak anyone out.
This my friends, is what is called “foreshadowing.”
Four days later, the Flight Attendant also had a blue coroner seal placed in front of his door.
I have to take a break here for my mental health.
What’s next is a surprise memorial hosted by someone who was in a popular documentary about cults, and the connection between Mandy and the murder victim.
WHO THE FUCK SURPRISES SOMEONE WITH A MEMORIAL?!?!! SOMEONE WHO HAS BEEN IN A CULT … THAT’S WHO!!!
