June 4, 2025

The Blonde of Kennedy
by Samantha Williamson

Click here to listen to this story on the Kaidankai podcast.



This week in Spectral City we explore the story of the Blonde of Kennedy, a Chilean urban myth that hunts taxi drivers and helpless citizens at night. We are your hosts, Ben, a firm believer of the supernatural, and my complete opposite, Dale. Together, we are on a quest to answer the question: are ghosts real? For those at home listening, take into consideration that Dale right now is shaking his head in disappointment once more, but I promise, dear Spectres at home, tonight is the night we could finally meet a visitor from the other side. Since this episode takes place in a Hispanic country, our friend and editor, Milly Acosta, will make sure to translate the dialogue into English when necessary.

How are you feeling? A little nervous?

Just the usual knot in my stomach and regret in my mind. I’ve seen this case in many shows before and always thought, “I’m never doing that”. And here we are.

For those listeners who don’t know, we are currently driving around Santiago, specifically back and forth between Las Condes and Vitacura. Did I say it right? To see if we can find this nice lady and give her a lift. Or find a nice restaurant to dine at, I would like to try a Terremoto.

Meanwhile, let’s break down the story for Mr. Skeptic over here, shall we? Since the 1970s, rumors have circulated about a spectral woman appearing along a major roadway known as Avenida Kennedy. Often called in Spanish “La Rubia de Kennedy”, she’s often described as a young, enchanting woman with long, fair hair, wearing either a big white coat or dress, who emerges mysteriously by the side of the road. Late-night drivers recount that they felt a compulsion to stop for her and offer her a ride.

You told me before this often happened to taxi drivers?

Correct.

Isn’t that their job?

Moving on! As the story goes, this woman will enter the vehicle on the back seat, giving vague directions or simply indicating where to go with a nod. Her presence, they say, “is mesmerizing, yet carries a deep melancholy that lingers in the air”. At a certain point in the journey, she whispers warnings such as “drive safely” or “slow down”, usually feeling despair when the car moves too fast. Carlos Benavides, a local Uber driver, claims that she told him, after being near the speed limit on a random street, that he “needed to stop”, for this was the place where she di—. Tick-tick-tick.

Ben, look! There's someone outside. 

Are-are you for … are you serious right now?

Hi! Yes, enter, enter. Thunk. Whoosh. Click.

Dale, don’t, what are… what are you doing?

I mean, we did borrow a cab; we might as well earn some money for our next episode. Spain is getting expensive, and I have a list of places we should go. Good night! Where?

Americo Vespucio 6325, please.

Yes sir! Where is that? Oh, thank you, Benny boy. We are good to go, so please continue with your ghost story, though I’m missing the campfire and marshmallows. 

As I was saying, over the years, different versions of her backstory have emerged, each with its own blend of misery and mystery. With that in mind, let’s get into the theories. The first theory is that the spirit belongs to Marta Infante, a woman who used to work at a wood company named CORMA. She matches various witnesses’ descriptions with her blonde hair and pure white outfit. Around August 1978, after dining with her boyfriend, she died in a car crash while trying to return home. The accident occurred between Avenida Kennedy and a street called Ge-Geronimo de Al-de-re-te. That’s a tough name. Many believe--
Here is good. Thank you.
 You’re welcome! Have a good night. Click. Thunk. Whoosh. Bye-bye.
 Many believe that Marta is now an “ánima”, a restless wandering soul. A dead person can become an "ánima" if they aren't worthy of the afterlife. However, in most cases, they can't rest because they have unfinished business here on Earth.
Like a vendetta? Godfather, kind of thing?
Not necessarily. Perhaps she just wants to find her family or her boyfriend, or maybe she has a dream that she wasn’t able to accomplish while being alive.

Like being a ballerina, or a movie actress. 

Sure, and actually funny you say that, because in 1995 they made a film about her along with other characters from Chilean mythology. Although the synopsis sounds promising, the movie was absolutely destroyed by the critics and flopped at the box office. In a cruel coincidence, or what many theorists see as a punishment from beyond the grave, Carolina Fadic, the actress that gave life to this phantom, died from a stroke.

I don’t see how this connects.

She was twenty-eight.

Oh, wow! I still don’t see how this connects, but sure.

Carolina’s striking death, as well as part of the movie’s plot, leads us to a second theory that has become increasingly more popular on the Internet, which is that the Blonde of Kennedy is actually a —Tick-tick.—What was that?

Relax, it's just a lady. Hello! Yes. Yes. Finally, my Spanish lessons helped with something. Get in. Thunk. Whoosh. Click. Where to?

San Gregorio.

Yes. Ben, help me out here, where is that? 

Okay, hold on, let me check the map. Alright, alright. So, now we are near Américo Vespucio and Gerónimo de Alde-rete. Hm, just keep going straight, and I’ll tell you when to turn.

Super, you can continue with your little story now.

Our second theory states that the spirit belongs to an unknown German woman who arrived in Chile with her family in the midst of the nineteenth century, probably after the Selective Immigration Law of 1845. Instead of staying in Osorno with her parents and siblings, this lady eloped with a young man to Santiago. Nonetheless, once there, her fiancé cheated on her. 

What a jerk, she deserves better.

Indeed. A week later, he was found dead on the road, likely on his way home after going to a bar. According to reports, and I quote, “(...) his body was rigid, unbending, and unyielding; his back arched in a sadistic angle, as if being twisted by a higher force. His lips and feet were as blue as a bruise, and multiple injuries were found across his body. Nonetheless, no evidence of external violence was found, and witnesses at the premises confirm that no conflict had taken place. No evidence was found that would allow the establishment of a clear and concise cause of death. Therefore, it is ruled undetermined”. Afterwards, I found another document of the local press that states that the autopsy was done deficiently because the medical professionals were disturbed by the “corpse’s wooden smile” and therefore finished the procedure early. Some theorists claim that the man was poisoned, while others assure that she put a death curse on him with the help of the Devil himself. These theorists connect this event with Fadic’s early demise too, stating that her performance sealed her demise.

Slow down.

Yeah, let’s take it down a notch. I mean, first of all, we don’t even know these people’s names, let alone whether they ever existed. The guy’s probably dead from alcohol poisoning, or maybe—maybe—he was poisoned with, I don’t know, strycheight, strychnine, or whatever you mentioned in that episode from last year, the True Crime special.

The one about William Palmer?

Exactly. Also, how do we go from “vanishing gal” to “demoniacal servant”?

All I'm saying is that local people don’t know her intentions. Some link her to causing car crashes, others to preventing them. There’s so little known about her, even as a figure of pop culture, that we don’t even know is she’s a good spirit or a bad one--

And that’s the thing! Angels, demons, spirits or ghouls—it doesn’t make any sense. People aren’t just good or evil; we are all different shades of gray. And if this applies in life, why wouldn’t it apply in death? Folks grow, mature and get old, becoming so many different versions of themselves as they develop. All of the sudden they give their final breath, and we reduced them into devils and saints. Not only it isn’t realistic, it isn’t fair. You know what I think, Ben? I think the lady was thrown into this world and then out of it.

Dale, I--

And look I don’t want to be rude, and I would love to believe in something like you, Ben—being swept up in this. Actually trust that after we die we go somewhere special, or become something special that isn’t just compost. But I don’t. My mind just doesn’t seem to embrace any of this. I’m so sorry.

Dale, I wanted to tell you that you don’t have to be sorry about everything. You don’t have to embrace the idea of the afterlife, or even understand it, but I do appreciate you trying to be more open-minded. Don’t scorn your endless logic, I have valued it for a long time. When I started planning this podcast, and doing the first episodes, I realized I couldn’t do this alone. You know me, I’m all gullible and full of fear, I’d end up talking about these things while shacking and muttering. It would take me days to finish one topic. And nights were awful, I could barely sleep in the locations and kept thinking there were apparitions in the corner of my eyes.

Really?

I swear it. I wrote to you then. I was surprised that you accepted at first, someone so skeptic and inquiring as you are. And you know what? Moments like these make me admire your questioning, your doubts, your humor; things that, in some strange way, balance my naivety. It feels as though, together, we have found something special: a space between pondering the destination and enjoying the ride. I was once a boy that feared death so much that I forgot that I was still alive. Thank you for being there for me.

Beautiful words, Benny boy. Thank you for making me become a more receptive person, and for always remind me to revere the unknown. This has become quite an emotional episode, hasn’t it? Maybe we should wrap it up and grab something to eat. Milly said we should the empanadas and humitas before we leave.

Sounds like a plan. Either way, whether you believe in this myth or not, “La Rubia de Kennedy” remains both an eerie story and a sobering reminder of the dangers of reckless driving, of always staying vigilant on the highways. Yes, once again, we have neither confirmed nor denied the existence of ghosts. But, if she does exist, we can only hope she lived a full, happy life in the company of her loved ones, and found peace in death. If she is listening, we wish her a tranquil rest and a good night. 

I like the sound of that. Thank you, dear Spectres, for listening. Could you give me the directions to the restaurant?

Sure, no problem.

Great, great… Hey, did you hear the car lock when she got out?

                                                                  💀💀💀

​
Sam Williamson is an aspiring writer and a medical student from Santiago, Chile. Her story "Light," earned third place in the Miroptics Contest. Her pieces have appeared in magazines such as Amazine, with forthcoming work in ionosphere. When not writing, she immerses herself in learning about various poisons, urban myths, and true crime cases.