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For ten years, The Midnight Request Line was just another late-night radio show. A place for lonely hearts, insomniacs, and third-shift workers to call in and request a song, share a memory, or talk about the weather.
But in the fall of 2015, the calls changed.
They started with a whisper—literally. The voice would fade in and out, as if drifting across static. Then came the details. Names. Dates. Places. And soon, it became clear these weren’t dedications or requests.
They were confessions.
This is Dead Air at Midnight.
By Massai EdwardsFor ten years, The Midnight Request Line was just another late-night radio show. A place for lonely hearts, insomniacs, and third-shift workers to call in and request a song, share a memory, or talk about the weather.
But in the fall of 2015, the calls changed.
They started with a whisper—literally. The voice would fade in and out, as if drifting across static. Then came the details. Names. Dates. Places. And soon, it became clear these weren’t dedications or requests.
They were confessions.
This is Dead Air at Midnight.