Help 2022

Sharelle Embrocia tells me that her car ran out of gas on an unfortunate late night on that long stretch between the Waipio uka off-ramp and the one to Mililani mauka.

Sharelle said she had to choose which direction was closest to walk to find a phone booth and call for a tow. Yes, she left her phone at home. It was also a school holiday, so the kids were with her. She told me that she felt the Waipio direction was the nearest, so they walked. They didn't get too far before the downpour of rain-drenched them to the skin. Finally, she decided that they would all walk back to the car and wait it out. That's when a Chevy suburban pulled over, and a local man jumped out and waved them over. "C'mon, c'mon! Hurry! You'll catch your death of cold! Hurry!" He opened the doors for the family as they all piled into the back seat. Once everyone was settled, he asked Sharelle where she needed to go? She gave the man her address, and in a short while, he dropped them off safely at her home. She remembers asking him if he wouldn't mind waiting for her to settle her kids, and she would be back out to pay him for his time? He politely refused, told her not to worry about it, and drove off. Right then, a voice in Sharelle's head told her to take down his license plate, which she did by committing it to memory. Once she was in the house, she found a pen and paper and wrote it down. When she got to her office downtown, she'd look the man up. She'd planned to send him a nice check in the mail. Here's where things got strange. Sharelle's husband was home, and when she explained everything to him, he told her that he was sitting on the couch right next to the window. He didn't recall seeing any headlights shine into the living room, nor did he hear a vehicle pull up, especially a full-sized Chevy suburban. Curiosity got the better of Sharelle's husband Manolo, so he played back the footage on their security cam. Sharelle said until this day, she can't explain it. One second you can see their driveway on the cam; the next second, there's a blinding flash of light. "You can see my kids walking to the house, I'm there for a few seconds, and the light vanishes. There's no Chevy suburban at all, just this blinding light," Sharelle told me while she and her husband sat across from me at the Waipio Zippy's. Then they showed me the footage on their phone. I was stunned, to say the least. Sharelle said she'd completely forgotten about the license plate number until the next day at work. The owner's name was Joseph Soares. He'd been killed while lending roadside assistance to someone who had a flat tire on a rainy night in the exact location where he had offered a ride to Sharelle and her children. Visibility was down to zero. The person who hit and killed him told the authorities it was hard to see because the rain was so heavy. It didn't help that Soares was dressed in dark clothing. His vehicle tags expired, which explains why the Chevy had been sitting in the garage after Joseph's death. His wife said she just left it there because she couldn't bring herself to sell it. 

"My kids and I sat in that vehicle; I spoke to that man face to face," Sharelle spoke through tears while her husband Manolo rubbed her back. "My kids thanked him, and he smiled and told them not to worry."

"They literally swore on the bible," her husband confirmed. "Why my wife and kids, you know?"

You, who are reading Sharelle's story, know the answer to that question. I'm curious to read your thoughts?"