Jake Morrison had been working as a mechanic at Thompson’s Auto Repair in Detroit, Michigan for twelve years. He’d seen just about everything under the hood of a car—forgotten tools, evidence of shoddy repairs, even a family of mice that had made a home in an air filter. But nothing could have prepared him for what he discovered on an ordinary Wednesday afternoon in September, carved into the metal of an engine block in desperate, shaky letters.
The car was a 2015 Honda Civic, brought in by a man named Derek Patterson who seemed nervous and rushed. He said the car was overheating and needed to be looked at immediately, but he couldn’t stay—he had an important meeting to get to. He left his phone number and said he’d be back in a few hours to pick it up. Something about his demeanor struck Jake as odd, but customers were often stressed about car troubles, so he didn’t think much of it.
Jake popped the hood and began his diagnostic. The car had clearly been overheating—the temperature gauge was in the red zone, and there was evidence of coolant leaking. As he inspected the engine more closely, preparing to check the radiator and hoses, his flashlight caught something unusual. There, scratched into the metal surface of the engine block near the firewall, were words. Crude, desperate words that looked like they’d been carved with something sharp and small, perhaps a piece of jewelry or a key.
Jake leaned in closer, his heart beginning to race as he read the message: “HELP ME. AMBER. TRUNK. HE’S GOING TO KILL ME.”
For a moment, Jake stood frozen, his mind struggling to process what he was seeing. His first thought was that it might be an old message, something from a previous owner, maybe even a prank. But the scratches looked relatively fresh—the exposed metal hadn’t oxidized much. And then he remembered the man’s nervous behavior, the way he’d insisted on leaving immediately, the urgency in his voice.
Jake’s hands trembled as he pulled out his phone and dialed 911. Within minutes, two police officers arrived at the shop. Jake showed them the message, and they immediately ran the license plate. The car was registered to Derek Patterson, but when they ran his name through their system, red flags appeared everywhere. Patterson had a restraining order filed against him by his ex-girlfriend, Amber Chen, just three months prior. The order had been violated twice, but Amber had failed to appear at the court hearings.
The officers’ expressions turned grave. One of them immediately radioed for backup while the other asked Jake detailed questions about Derek’s appearance and behavior. “Did he say where he was going? Did you see which direction he walked? Was anyone else in the car when he arrived?” Jake told them everything he could remember—Derek had been alone, had walked toward the bus stop on the corner, and had mentioned coming back in a few hours.
What happened next unfolded rapidly. Police tracked Derek’s phone location to an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of the city, about twenty minutes from the auto shop. A SWAT team was dispatched. Jake stayed at the shop, pacing nervously, unable to focus on anything else. The other mechanics had gathered around, and the shop owner had closed the bay doors, keeping the Honda Civic secured inside as evidence.
Two hours later, Jake received a call from Detective Maria Sanchez, who had been coordinating the response. Her voice was emotional as she told him what had happened. Police had arrived at the warehouse to find Derek Patterson’s truck parked outside. Inside the warehouse, they found Amber Chen alive, bound and gagged in a small room. She had been missing for four days, taken from her apartment parking lot when she arrived home from work. Derek had been holding her captive, and according to Amber’s statement, he had been planning to kill her that night and dispose of her body.
The story of how Amber had managed to carve that message was harrowing. Derek had been keeping her in his truck initially, moving locations frequently. On the second day of her captivity, while Derek was driving and distracted by traffic, Amber had managed to remove a small decorative pin from her hair—a pin her mother had given her. The trunk where she was being held had a pass-through to the back seat that Derek had left partially open for air. In a moment of desperation and incredible courage, Amber had reached through that opening, felt around blindly until her fingers found the hood release, and then waited.
When Derek stopped at a gas station and got out to pump gas, Amber had seconds to act. She pushed her arm through the pass-through as far as she could, pulled the hood release, and then quickly used her pin to scratch her message onto the first metal surface she could reach inside the engine compartment. She knew it was a long shot—she couldn’t even see what she was writing on, and she had no idea if anyone would ever see it. But it was her only chance. After carving the message, she heard Derek returning and had to pull her arm back quickly, cutting it badly on the sharp edges of the opening.
Derek never noticed the hood had been popped slightly. He closed it without looking inside and continued driving. When his car started overheating the next day due to a coolant leak, he decided to take it to a mechanic—never suspecting that his captive’s desperate message was waiting to be discovered under the hood.
Derek Patterson was arrested at the warehouse and charged with kidnapping, attempted murder, violating a restraining order, and multiple other felonies. He is currently serving a 35-year prison sentence with no possibility of parole. The evidence against him was overwhelming, including the message carved in his engine block, Amber’s testimony, and physical evidence found at both the warehouse and in his truck.
Amber Chen spent several weeks recovering in the hospital from her ordeal. She had suffered dehydration, multiple bruises and lacerations, and significant psychological trauma. But she was alive, thanks to her incredible presence of mind and courage—and thanks to a mechanic who took a strange message seriously instead of dismissing it as a prank.
Jake Morrison was honored by the Detroit Police Department for his quick thinking and action. At the ceremony, he met Amber for the first time. The moment was overwhelming for both of them. Amber hugged him tightly and whispered, “Thank you for seeing me. Thank you for believing that message was real.” Jake, fighting back tears, told her, “You saved yourself. That was the bravest thing I’ve ever seen. I just made a phone call.”
The hair pin that Amber used to carve her message—bent and scratched from her desperate work—has been preserved as evidence, but Amber says that after the trial concluded, she wants it back. “It belonged to my mother,” she explains. “She passed away when I was sixteen. That pin saved my life. I think she was watching over me.”
Thompson’s Auto Repair has since become something of a pilgrimage site, with people stopping by to thank Jake and to hear the story. The shop owner, Tom Thompson, has posted a sign in the waiting area that reads: “Pay attention. Be aware. You never know when someone might need your help.” Below it is a photo of Jake with Amber, both smiling—a survivor and the mechanic who heard her silent scream for help.
Jake still works at the same shop, but he says he’ll never look at a car the same way again. “Every car has a story,” he reflects. “Most of the time, it’s just about wear and tear, age, neglect. But sometimes, very rarely, a car can tell you something else. Something important. Something that saves a life. I’m just grateful I was paying attention that day.”
As for Amber, she has moved to a new city for a fresh start and has become an advocate for domestic violence survivors. She speaks at shelters and schools, sharing her story and encouraging others to never give up hope, even in the darkest moments. “I carved that message not knowing if anyone would ever see it,” she tells audiences. “But I had to try. I had to believe that somewhere, someone would look close enough, care enough, to help me. And someone did.”
The Honda Civic, with Amber’s message still carved into the engine block, is now part of a law enforcement training exhibit, used to teach officers and first responders about the importance of recognizing signs of distress and taking all reports seriously. The scratched words “HELP ME. AMBER. TRUNK. HE’S GOING TO KILL ME” serve as a permanent reminder that sometimes, a cry for help comes from the most unexpected places—and that paying attention to the details can mean the difference between life and death.
