Some people survive. Others fight their way back from the brink, refusing to be just another victim.
In 1978, 15-year-old Mary Vincent was left for dead—her arms hacked off with a hatchet, her body thrown off a 30-foot cliff, bleeding out in the dirt.
She didn’t die.
Instead, she packed her severed limbs with mud to stop the bleeding, climbed back up the cliff with no hands, and walked nearly three miles—naked, drenched in blood, waving what was left of her arms—until someone finally stopped to help.
This is her story.
A family falling apart
Mary Vincent was born in 1963, one of seven children in Las Vegas, Nevada. Her father was a mechanic, her mother a blackjack dealer. They had met when he was in the military, but by the time Mary was a teenager, their marriage was crumbling.
The divorce was messy and ugly, and home life became unbearable. So in September 1978, Mary ran away.
At first, she lived on the streets, sometimes sleeping inside unlocked cars. But she had family elsewhere—her grandfather lived in Berkeley, California—so she hitchhiked there, hoping to find stability.
She stayed with him for a short time, but she got homesick. She missed what little she had left of home. So she made another decision:
She packed a bag and started hitchhiking back to Los Angeles.
It was a choice that nearly killed her.
The ride that changed everything
Mary stood by the road, tired, dirty, just hoping for a ride.
That’s when Lawrence Singleton pulled over.
Middle-aged. Polite. Driving a blue van. He looked safe enough. She wasn’t alone—there were two other hitchhikers nearby—but he only had room for one, and for whatever reason, he chose Mary.
She got in.
At first, everything seemed fine. He was friendly, even kind. But then, she noticed something.
He wasn’t going the right way.
Her stomach dropped.
She grabbed a sharp stick from the floor of the van—ready to fight. But she hesitated. Maybe it was a mistake. Maybe he was just confused.
She let her guard down.
Then he pulled over.
He told her to tie his shoe. She bent down. And in that moment—he swung a sledgehammer at her head.
Everything went black.
The attack that should have killed her
Mary woke up tied up. Singleton raped her repeatedly, then pulled out a hatchet.
One swing. Then another.
He cut off her right arm. Then her left.
She was awake for all of it.
She screamed, begged—but he didn’t stop. When it was done, he picked her up, threw her off a 30-foot cliff, and drove away, leaving her to bleed to death.
But Mary wasn’t finished yet.
The impossible escape
She should have died down there.
She was bleeding out, in shock, in excruciating pain.
But something inside her refused to give up.
She pressed the raw, severed stumps of her arms into the dirt, packing them with mud to slow the bleeding.
And then she stood up.
With nothing but sheer willpower, she:
- Climbed back up the cliff.
- Staggered nearly three miles down Interstate 5, completely naked and drenched in blood.
- Held up her arm stumps to keep what little blood she had left from spilling out.
Cars passed. Drivers saw her—and kept going.
Finally, a young couple stopped and got her to safety.
“I’ll finish the job.”
At the hospital, Mary didn’t waste time.
She worked with police immediately, refusing to sleep until she helped sketch her attacker’s face.
Her memory was perfect. Within 10 days, Lawrence Singleton was arrested.
At trial, he was sentenced to just 14 years—the maximum penalty at the time.
He served only eight.
When she walked past him in court, he leaned over and whispered, “I’ll finish the job when I get out.”
Mary knew she had to disappear.
Justice failed, but it caught up eventually
Singleton was released in 1987. No city wanted him, so he lived in a trailer on prison grounds before moving to Florida.
Mary lived in fear, always looking over her shoulder.
Then, in 1997, Singleton murdered a woman named Roxanne Hayes in his Florida home.
This time, there was no early release.
He was sentenced to death, but died of cancer in 2001 before he could be executed.
Mary testified against him at his murder trial, making sure everyone knew exactly what kind of man he was.
Life after the nightmare
Mary didn’t just survive—she rebuilt her life from scratch.
Within two weeks of the attack, she was already learning to use prosthetic arms.
She started creating art, sketching powerful women and action figures. She even built her own custom prosthetics, including one for bowling.
She went to college, got married, raised two sons, and eventually moved to Washington, where she found peace.
But she never stopped fighting for victims’ rights.
Mary Vincent didn’t just live, she won
Most people wouldn’t have survived that night. Even fewer would have been able to walk out of it.
But Mary Vincent isn’t most people.
She walked three miles on shredded legs, bleeding out, waving her severed arms in the air, refusing to be just another dead girl on the side of the road.
And then she made sure the world never forgot.
