34. The Susukino Love Hotel Murder | Runa Tamura

There is a specific kind of isolation built into the architecture of a Japanese love hotel. 

You enter a soundproof room, you pay through frosted glass, and you vanish into the neon-soaked streets. 

But in July 2023, the anonymity of Sapporo’s Susukino red-light district was weaponized to hide a flawless, horrifying crime.

​This week on Homocidal Tendency, we are breaking down one of the most twisted psychological horror stories in modern Japanese true crime: the Sapporo headless corpse case. 

When 62-year-old Hitoshi Ura was found decapitated in Room 202 of the Hotel Let's, investigators were left hunting a phantom caught on CCTV rolling a heavy black suitcase out the front door. 

But the true terror of this case isn't just the two-hour mutilation inside the love hotel it’s what happened when 29-year-old Runa Tamura brought that suitcase home to her parents.

​Join Matt for a deep dive into the suffocating, dark psychology of the Tamura family, a prominent psychiatrist's unbelievable cover-up, a mother's signed "slave" contract, and a Japanese justice system verdict that left an entire nation stunned.

​Topics Covered in This Episode:

• ​The architecture and cultural anonymity of Japanese love hotels
• ​The josou (cross-dressing) subculture and hidden nightlife of Susukino
• ​The meticulous CCTV tracking of the Susukino beheading
• ​The severe psychiatric delusions of hikikomori Runa Tamura
• ​The chilling domestic dynamic and trials of Dr. Osamu Tamura and Hiroko Tamura

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​Research & Sources for Episode 34:

• ​The Japan Times: Archival coverage of the July 2023 Susukino love hotel murder discovery and the subsequent raid on the Tamura residence in Atsubetsu Ward.
• ​The Asahi Shimbun / The Mainichi: Court transcripts and reporting on the March 2025 verdict for Osamu Tamura, detailing the suspended sentence for abandoning a corpse.
• ​Hokkaido Broadcasting Co. (HBC): Coverage of the CCTV footage tracking the suitcase, and the February 2026 appeal trial for Hiroko Tamura.
• ​Sapporo District Court Records (via Japanese Press): Details regarding the ongoing, multi-tiered psychiatric evaluations determining Runa Tamura's criminal responsibility and fitness to stand trial.
• ​Sociological Studies on Japanese Nightlife: Contextual research regarding the tatemae / honne cultural divide and the josou nightlife scene in Hokkaido.

Transcript

SPEAKER_00 0:06

There's a specific kind of isolation built into the architecture of a Japanese love hotel. They're designed from the ground up to be sanctuaries of absolute anonymity. You enter through a discrete door in a neon soaked alleyway, you select your room from a glowing panel, and you pay your cash through a slot. No front desk, no eye contact, no questions asked. It's a transaction of total invisibility. You can be anyone, doing anything, and the outside world will never know you were there. But on the afternoon of July 2nd, 2023, the staff at the Hotel LETS in Sapporo Susukino District learned what happens when that anonymity is weaponized. It was past the checkout time. Room 202 hadn't responded to the phone calls. A hotel worker unlocked the door and stepped inside. The silence in the room was heavy, unnatural. When they looked at the bedroom, nothing made sense. The sheets were perfectly flat, the pillows were untouched, the bed hadn't been slept in. But from the bathroom, there was a heavy metallic smell hanging in the air. The worker pushed open the bathroom door. Slumped inside the bathtub was the body of a man. He was completely naked, but what paralyzed the worker wasn't just the presence of a body, it's what was missing. There was no blood spray on the pristine walls of the bedroom. There were no clothes folded on the chairs. There was no wallet, no phone, no ID. And most of all, there was no head. Listen, so if you thought last week's episode was wild, then you need to buckle the fuck up for this one. We're headed to Sapporo, Japan, and we're diving into a case that is so deeply twisted, it feels like it was written for a high budget psychological horror film. But every single detail of what we're about to go over is entirely, terrifyingly real. Before we get completely consumed by this, let's just knock out the normal housekeeping. Make sure you subscribe wherever you're listening to the show. And if you haven't already, take a second to drop a rating and review. It legitimately helps post the show out to more true crime fans. As always, you can find all the links for our social medias, plus the full list of sources of today's deep dive right down in the show notes. Alright, let's get back into the red light district of Susukino. To really wrap your head around how a murder and a meticulous hours-long decapitation could happen inside a functioning hotel without a single person hearing or seeing anything, we have to talk about the building itself. Because you can't understand the crime until you understand the space. So let's step off the neon streets and take a look inside the isolating world of a Japanese love hotel. If you've never been to Susukino, it's a sensory overload. It's Sapporo's primary entertainment and a red light district packed with bars, host clubs, and Dion Sai is as far as the eye can see. It's a place designed for night owls, where the streets can be just as busy and chaotic at 2 a.m. as they are at rush hour. But tucked away in the alleys, right in the middle of all this noise, are the love hotels. In Japan, they're called Rabihoturi. To truly understand why they exist and why they're so heavily utilized, you have to look at the realities of Japanese housing. In many urban areas, homes and apartments are notoriously small, and it's incredibly common for multiple generations of a family to live under one roof. Which means you live in a tight space with your parents and possibly your grandparents. So privacy for couples or married adults is practically non-existence. So therefore, an entire multi-billion dollar industry sprang up to provide for it. But like we said, these aren't like regular Western motels. The architecture of a Japanese love hotel is an absolute masterclass and extreme discretion. If you were to walk into a place like Hotel Letz in Suzuki, here's exactly how your stay would go. So the entrance, you don't walk into a grand lobby, you walk into a discrete, sometimes hidden entryway. Many of these hotels have complex labyrinth-like entrances and underground parking garages to ensure you never accidentally bump into someone you might know. So, like we said, the check-in, there's no front desk and there's zero communal space. Instead, you're facing a glowing automated wall panel displaying photos of the available rooms. You press a button for the room you want, either for a short stay, like one to three hours, or for a full overnight stay. The payment, you never see a human face. You pay your bill through an automated machine or pneumatic tube or by sliding your cash through a tiny slot in frosted glass, and you never see the clerk on the other side. And then the rooms themselves, they're they're heavily soundproof to maximize privacy. These buildings often have absolutely no exterior windows, or they're tiny and completely covered. If you order a room service, you don't open the door for the waiter, your food is delivered discreetly through a small service hatch in the wall. You're a ghost in the machine. You enter, you exist in the isolated soundproof bubble, and then you vanish. Now think about that from the perspective of a killer. The hotel was doing exactly what it was designed to do, protecting the absolute privacy of its guest. But in this case, the soundproof walls, the lack of windows, and zero face-to-face contact and just hide an illicit hookup. It created the perfect, undisturbed slaughterhouse right in the middle of one of the busiest districts in Japan. So let's step back into room 202. The hotel worker is standing over the bassa, the police arrive, and they walk into an absolute forensic nightmare. The killer hasn't just committed a murder, they successfully erase the man's entire identity from the room. Inside the room, every single trace of the victim is gone. There's no folded clothes on a chair, there's no wallet, no cell phone, no keys, and of course no head. The killer just didn't take a trophy. They took the man's face. For the first 48 hours, the Sapporo Tro police station is staring at a completely anonymous John Doe. But in true crime, killers almost always leave a loose thread. And in this case, the thread wasn't inside the hotel, it was parked just a few blocks away. On the exact same day the body was discovered, a panicked woman contacted local police. Her husband had left their home in Inuah, a city just outside Sapuro the day before, and he never came back. Two days later on July 4th, investigators scanning the area around the red light district located a car abandoned in a nearby corn-operated parking lot. By connecting the panicked wife's missing persons report and the abandoned vehicle and matching physical markers on the body, police were able to put a name to the headless corpse. He was 62-year-old Hitoshi Oro. So who was Hitoshi? To understand him, you have to understand the fundamental concept in Japanese culture, the divide between Tatumee and Hone. Tatumee is your public face, what society expects of you, your obligations, your conformity. Hone is your true inner feelings and desires, which are often kept completely hidden to maintain social harmony. On paper, Hitoshi's Tatume was flawless. He was an older, married man working a standard corporate job as an interior company employee. To his family, his neighbors, and his co-workers, he was just a regular quiet guy living at conventional life in the suburbs. But when the sun went down, Hitoshi traveled to the Susukino district to embrace his One. In Sapporo's nightlife underground, Hitoshi was known for participating in josu, the Japanese term for male cross-dressing. Now, in the West, this might immediately be categorized under a very specific queer umbrella. But in Japan, the josu subculture is actually incredibly diverse and often distinctively separates itself from sexual orientation. For many straight, married, older salary men, dressing in women's clothing and going to designated clubs is a sanctioned form of escapism. It's a way to completely shred the suffocating, rigid pressures of Japanese corporate masculinity for a few hours. In Susukino, there are specific bars and disco events that cater specifically to that type of crowd. Hitoshi was a regular at these dance events. He was known in the district for arriving in beautiful, elaborate women's clothing. In this neon-lit pocket of the city, he wasn't doing anything dangerous or illegal. He was just finding a temporary release in the district built on secrets. But the extreme compartmentalization of living a double life in a district designed to hide people is exactly what made him vulnerable. It was in this underground club scene, roughly a month before the murder, that Hitoshi crossed paths with his killer. We need to talk about Runa tomorrow. To understand Runa, you have to look at the absolute void that she lived in. For years leading up to the murder, she was a hikamore. In Japan, this is a term used to describe a state of severe, debilitating social withdrawal. We aren't talking about someone who just likes to stay home and avoid crowds. We're talking about absolute, crushing isolation. People who become hikomore often refuse to leave their bedrooms for months or even years at a time. They sever almost all ties to the outside world. But Runa's isolation wasn't just physical, it was deeply, terrifyingly psychological. Her mental health had been deteriorating since she was a teenager, and as she moved through her twenties, her detachment from reality became total. She suffered from severe psychiatric delusions that essentially fractured her identity. According to the psychiatric evaluations and statements made later, Runa generally believed that her original self, the girl named Runa, was dead. She believed she had been reborn as a completely different entity. She demanded to be called Cynthia, or Runa Cynthia, operating under this dark, fragmented altered ego. So we have to ask, how does a woman who barely leaves her bedroom end up in the neonchaeus of the Susukino Red Light District? It's the ultimate paradox. But for a mine as fractured as Runa's, a district defined by extreme sensory overload and total anonymity is the perfect camouflage. Susukino wasn't just a place to socialize, it was a place for her to disappear. In a club full of drag queens, cross-stressers, hosts, and people living out their hidden weakened fantasies. Someone dressed in elaborate, eccentric clothing, acting strangely, didn't set up any alarm bells. And it was during one of these rare, erratic excursions from her bedroom in late May 2023 that she met Hitoshi Oro. We know they interacted, we know they went to a hotel, and we know that Runa claimed to have been sexually assaulted by him during that encounter. But when you're dealing with a mind completely divorced from reality, a woman who believes that she's reborn into a brand new entity, how that trauma is processed is entirely unpredictable. And she didn't call the police, and she didn't see help. She retreated back into her isolated bedroom and in the dark, she began to obsess. When investigators finally pulled the CCTV footage from the Let's Hotel, they were looking for a ghost. On the night of July 1st, at roughly 10.50 p.m., the hotel cameras capture Hitoshi walking through the discrete entrance alongside a second figure. The companion is dressed in baggy woman's clothing, their face is completely obscured by a hat, and they're wearing a blonde wig. From the outside, it looks just like another anonymous couple slipping away into the neon shadows. The door to room 202 closes, and the automatic lock engages. So, how do you get a 60-year-old man willingly into a bathtub so you can murder him without a struggle? You don't have to force him in. You just let the environment do the work for you. In Japanese culture, especially within the context of a love hotel, bathing before any physical intimacy isn't just common, it's expected. The bathrooms in these suites are typically large, enclosed, fully tiled wet rooms with a deep soaking tub. In other words, it's a perfect, isolated kill room. Investigators believe Runa simply played along with the expected routine. Hitoshi began to undress. He stepped into the bathroom, completely naked and entirely vulnerable, turning his back to prepare to shower. But Runa never undressed. She followed him into the bathroom, fully clothed, carrying the tactical combat knife she had bought weeks in advance. With his guard down, she ambushed him from behind. She drove the blades so deep into his neck, severing all the major blood vessels. The attack was so sudden and catastrophic, uh, he never stood a chance. He collapsed into the bathtub. The official cause of death was hemorrhagic shock. He bled to death right against the cold tile. And this is where you realize just how calculated Runa was. The reason the hotel room was completely pristine, the reason there was no blood spray on the walls or the sheets is because Runa had essentially used the bathtub as an industrial drain. The massive volume of blood simply washed away, leaving the rest of the suite completely uncontaminated. And once he was dead, that's when the real work began. Runa pulled out a small, handheld woodworking saw. For the next two to three hours, inside that silent, windowless bathroom, she went to work on the corpse. And she didn't just take his head as a sick trophy, she meticulously gathered every single item he brought into that room. His wallet, his phone, his ID, every single piece of clothing. She stuffed his severed head and his belongings into a large heavy black suitcase. At 2 AM, the hotel's cameras pick up motion again. The figure emerges from room 202. But the killer has completely changed outfits. The baggy clothes, the hat and the wig are gone, swap for a completely different set of dark garments and a backpack, and trailing behind her, rolling across the carpeted floor is that large black suitcase. She calmly walks out the front door, blending seamlessly into the 2 a.m. crowds of the red light district, rolling Hitoshi's severed head right down the sidewalk. She walks to a nearby street corner, climbs into a waiting car, and vanishes into the night. So, Runa Tomora walks out of the Let's Hotel at 2 a.m. She's dragging the suitcase that contains a freshly severed human head, and she doesn't hail a taxi. She doesn't walk to a train station, she walks to a pre-arranged pickup spot, opens the trunk of a waiting car, heaves a heavy suitcase inside, and climbs into the passenger seat. The getaway driver doesn't ask any questions. He doesn't panic. He just puts the car and drives and heads towards the suburb. That driver was 59-year-old Osumo Tomura. He's Runo's father. When this detail is leaked to the press, the entire country of Japan essentially suffers whiplash. Because Osama Tomura wasn't a career criminal. He wasn't some underworld shady fixer. He was a highly prominent, incredibly respected doctor. He was the head of psychiatry at a major general hospital in Sapporo. Let that sink in for a second. The man behind the wheel of the getaway car, the man who helped his daughter transport a severed head across city lines, was a chief psychiatrist. So how the hell does a man who literally diagnoses and treats severe mental illness for a living become an active accomplice in a delusional, ritualistic slaughter? And to answer that, we had to look behind the closed doors of the Tomora family home, because what was happening inside that house is one of the most twisted, suffocating domestic dynamics I've ever researched. Osomo and his sixty-year-old wife, Hikoro, were not the masters of their house. They were hostages. As Runa's mental state deteriorated over the years, she had completely taken over the psychological environment of the home. She was so volatile, prone to extreme outbursts and entirely disconnected from reality. But instead of institutionalizing her or forcing her into intense and voluntary treatment, her parents chose a path of total appeasement. They believed that if they just played along with her delusions, they could keep her calm. They thought they could manage the unmanageable. But when you validate madness, it doesn't stabilize, it grows. Runa demanded that her parents address her as her alter ego, Cynthia. She dictated what they could do, where they could go, and how they could speak to her. The dynamic became so incredibly toxic and subservient that Runa actually drafted a physical written contract for her 60-year-old mother. Hikuro signed a document formally pledging herself as her daughter's slave. The parents were trapped in a prison of their own making. Osuma, the brilliant psychiatrist, had completely lost the plot. He wasn't acting as a doctor anymore. He was a terrified, beatdown father who was completely surrendering his moral compass to keep the peace in the family. When Runa came home from the club in May and told her parents that she had been assaulted by Hitoshi, she didn't just vent. She began to plan her revenge, and her parents didn't stop her. They actually fawned it. It was Osmo who actually drove Runa to the hardware store to buy the woodworking saw. It was Osmo who bought the large black suitcase. He dropped his daughter off near the hotel on July 1st, knowing exactly what she was carrying and exactly what she intended to do. And he sat in the car for hours in the dark, waiting to take her and her trophy home. But everything we've talked about up to this point kind of pales in comparison to what happened when that car pulled into the driveway. They carried the suitcase inside, they unpacked it, and Osuma and Hikuro allowed their daughter to take Hitoshi's severed head into their shared family bathroom. They didn't bury it, they didn't destroy it, they just kept it. For weeks, a decaying human head sat in the bathroom of a respected hospital psychiatrist. The family just continued to live their lives around it, but Runa wasn't done with Hitoshi. In a detail that is so sicklingly morbid, it generally feels like a scene out of a snuff film. Runa decides to mutilate the head. She took a blade and began meticulously peeling the skin off Hitoshi's face right in the bathtub. And she wasn't alone in the room. Osuma stood over his daughter holding a video camera. He calmly recorded the footage of a gloved hand slicing the flesh off a man's skull in his own home. And when Runa finally finished, she presented the mutilated head to her mother. Hikuro looked at the flayed, decaying face of Hitoshi, turned to her daughter, and said, That's amazing. So, how did the police actually catch them? For weeks, the public in Japan were completely gripped by the panic. There was a killer walking around Sapporo who had just pulled off a flawless decapitation. The Let'sokino Hotel was a dead end. They had no name, no credit card, no digital footprint. All they had was a ghost on CCTV carrying out a large heavy suitcase out the front door. But a love hotel only protects your anonymity while you're inside it. Once you step out onto the pavement and you're back out on the grid. The investigators took that grainy footage of the figure and began to work backwards. They started pulling security footage from every single street corner, every convenience store, every traffic light in the Susuchino district. They tracked the killer's movements block by block, watching her roll that heavy suitcase through the crowds. Eventually, the cameras caught her walking to the pre-arranged spot and loading the suitcase into a vehicle. And that was the fatal mistake. You can change your clothes, you can wear a wig, and you can pay cash to hide your identity, but you can't hide a license plate from citywide surveillance. Police tracked the car's movement through that night. They watched it leave the neon glow of the red light district and head straight into the quiet, affluent suburbs. The digital trail led them directly to a three-story house in the Asibasu ward of Sapporo. They ran the plates. It was registered Osmo Tomura, the 59-year-old chief of psychiatry at the local hospital. The police had their suspects, but they had absolutely no idea what they were walking into. On July 24th, 2023, exactly three weeks after Hitoshi's body was found in the bathtub, the police finally made their move. A massive raid team descended on the quiet suburban streets. They breached the front door of the Tamura family home, expecting to find a killer and a getaway driver. What they found instead was a house that had been completely consumed by Mad Men. They began tearing the house apart, searching for the murder weapon, the bloody clothes, and the suitcase. And then they reached the upstairs family bathroom. The investigators opened the door to the bathroom, and there it was. For three weeks, while the country panicked and the police frantically searched for a killer, the severed, decaying head of Hitoshi Ura had been sitting right there in the doctor's house. Leah immediately arrests 29-year-old Runa and 59-year-old Osuma on the spot. The next day, after fully processing the house and realizing the sheer horrific stent of the mother's observance to her daughter's delusions, they arrested sixty-year-old Shiguro as well. So, a doctor, a mother, and a daughter are sitting in police custody. They had a severed head hidden in their bathroom for three weeks. You would assume the legal system is going to completely bury them, right? Well, welcome to the Japanese justice system, where the verdicts in this case left the public absolutely stunned. Let's start with the getaway driver, Dr. Osumotomura. His trial wrapped up in March of 2025. Prosecutors went for their throat. They wanted him locked up for 10 years, arguing that he bought the saw, drove the car, and was fully aware of the murder plot in advance. But in a massive twist, the presiding judge actually acquitted him of aiding the murder itself. The court ruled that despite buying the supplies, there wasn't enough hard evidence to prove that Osuma knew Rina was going to kill Hitoshi beforehand, only that he helped her clean up the horrific aftermath. Instead, Osuma was convicted of abandoning and damaging a corpse for moving the head and filming the mutilation. His sentence one year and four months in prison. But here's the kicker. The sentence was suspended for four years. Meaning, as long as he stays out of trouble, the former chief of psychiatry won't spend another day in a prison cell. During his final statement, his voice trembled as he apologized to the family. He admitted he felt responsible as a parent for not reporting the crime, stating he tried to continue living as if nothing happened in a desperate bid to stabilize his daughter's delusions. And then there's the mother of Hikuru. Her legal battle was incredibly bizarre because her defense literally hinged on the fact that she was a hostage in her own home. Her lawyers heavily emphasized that she was forced to sign a slave contract, arguing that she was terrified of her daughter and that her paralyzed silence didn't equal aiding and abetting a crime. The lower courts didn't fully buy it. In May 2025, she was found guilty of aiding in the concealment of a corpse and was handed a suspended sentence for one year and two months. But Hikuru immediately appealed the decision, and just a few months ago, in February 2026, the Sapporo High Court actually scrapped their original ruling and reduced her sentence to just six months. Suspended for two years. So she walks free too. Both parents, the people who funded the supplies, drove the giveaway car, and live with a rotting human head in their bathroom for a week, they're both back out in society on suspended sentences. And what about Runa? The 29-year-old woman who actually executed the murder, spent hours dismembering the body, and rolled the suitcase out of the hotel. You'd expect a massive, highly publicized trial ending in a severe sentence. But here's the reality. As of right now, mid-2026, Runa doesn't have a verdict. She's completely trapped in legal limbo. Her trial hasn't even started. To understand why the Japanese justice system has essentially stalled on the main suspect, we have to go back to her mental state. From the moment she was arrested in July 2023, the biggest hurdle for prosecutors hasn't been proving that she committed the crime. They have the CCTB footage, the murder weapons, and the physical evidence that was discovered in her bathroom. The hurdle is proving that she was legally and mentally competent enough to be held criminally responsible for her actions. Because of her long history of severe psychotic delusions, including her absolute belief that her original identity was dead and she was reborn as Cynthia, prosecutors couldn't rush her into a courtroom. Before she was even formally indicted, the Sapporo District Public Prosecutor's Office held Runna for an incredibly unusual six-month-long detention period purely for psychiatric evaluation. They needed to figure out if she understood reality well enough to stand trial. But the legal maneuvering didn't end there. The defense team is heavily contesting her criminal responsibility, planning to make it the central issue of her eventual trial. Late in 2024, the Sapporo District Court granted the defense's request for a second post-indictment psychiatric evaluation to be conducted by a completely different doctor. So while her father stood trial and received his suspended sentence in March 2025, and her mother went through a full trial and appeal process stretching into 2026, Rona has been locked away in a continuous cycle of institution evaluations. The architect of the entire nightmare is essentially frozen in the system. The courts have to meticulously untangle a terrifying paradox. Is she a cold calculator killer who methodically planned a murder, purchased weapons, and changed clothes to avoid detection? Or is she a woman so violently divorced from reality that she can't legally comprehend the weight of what she did inside that bathroom? Until those psychiatric valutions are definitive and legally binding, the answer there will be no trial date, no verdict, and absolutely no closure. As we wrap up this episode, I want to pull back and look at the bigger picture of why this happened. Earlier we talked about Josu subculture, the male cross-strashing scene in Japan, and how it's often separated from sexual orientation to function as escape from corporate masculinity. But let's be entirely real here. When we look at Hitoshi's nightlife through a western lens, it firmly falls under the queer umbrella. And regardless of the cultural label you want to put on it, the danger remains exactly the same. The Joso community shares the same exact pitfalls and vulnerabilities as the queer community. When society forces you to compartmentalize your identity, when you have to seek out the underground, neon lit spaces just to express who you really are, you're automatically placed at risk. The need for absolute secrecy becomes a weapon that predators can use against you. Killers know that people living in the shadows are less likely to report an assault, less likely to involve the police, and more likely to walk into anonymous wendless rooms without telling anyone where they're going. Hitoshi's need for a safe space is exactly what made him a target. And you're gonna say, what's the media's reaction? It was exactly as callous as you would expect it. When the story broke, Japanese tabloids and global news outlets didn't treat this with any empathy. They treated it like a circus. The coverage was entirely consumed by the shock value, a headless cross dresser in a love hotel, a killer daughter, and a respected psychiatrist's father hollering a severed head into the suburb. It was sensationalized to the absolute limit. Hitoshi wasn't treated as a victim who was brutally ambushed and bled out in a bathtub. He was reduced to a lurid headline, his secret life broadcast to the world as the punchline to a horror story. The media focused on the spectacle, completely missing the tragedy of a man whose only crime was wanting to take off his mask for a few hours on a Saturday night. The Susukino decapitation is a terrifying reminder of how vulnerable our hidden lives really are. It proves that the most dangerous monsters aren't always the ones lurking in the alleyways of a red light district. Sometimes the monster is a quiet 29-year-old woman with a woodworking saw. And sometimes the monster is a prominent doctor who smiles at his patients all day, then goes home to film his daughter peeling a man's face off in the family bathtub. Thank you for turning into episode 34. All the research links and source materials are down in the show notes. Keep yourself safe out there. Watch your back in the dark. And I'll see you next time.