I had just finished the loneliest drive: over 150 miles with no phone service. I passed maybe 20 cars and lots of skid marks with large patches of blood and the occasional dead animal on the side of the road. At the first town I encountered—which was Tonopah, Nevada—I stopped for a late lunch, a beer, and a little time to chill. As I was leaving, I saw The Clown Motel and had to stop for a quick photo to send to my mom, who is terrified of clowns. Sorry, Mom.

As I pulled into the pretty empty parking lot, I saw Eljay and went up to talk to him. He was loading his truck after a week-long stay at the Clown Motel. I asked if I could chat and take his photo, and after I clarified that I was not a minivan-driving bounty hunter, he was cool with it and even offered me a can of Arizona iced tea or beer.

“My Mom was from Oklahoma, and my dad was from Kansas,” he told me. “They must have thought I was going to be stupid because they named me L J.” (Officially spelled Eljay.) I had to ask why he’d chosen the Clown Motel, and he said he’d been visiting a friend—but his friend thought he was crazy. He's heard the place is haunted, and it is next to a very old cemetery. (Personally, I’m not afraid of clowns, but this place definitely has a creepy vibe, and the cemetery just adds to it.)

Eljay said he's spent about a third of his life behind bars, which is where he got all but one of his tattoos. But when his Mom got sick 8 years ago, he focused and took care of her. She always believed in him and supported him, whether he was on the inside or not. Since her passing, he says he's keeping things on the up and up.