March 26th, 1997. Rancho Santa Fe, California. Thirty-nine people are found dead in a mansion, lying neatly in rows. Black clothes. Matching Nike sneakers. Faces covered by purple shrouds. No signs of struggle. They called themselves Heaven’s Gate—and believed their souls had boarded a spacecraft trailing the Hale-Bopp comet. Their leader, Marshall Applewhite, promised they’d ascend to a higher existence, leaving their “human vehicles” behind. To them, this wasn’t suicide. It was graduation. The world saw tragedy; they saw salvation. Heaven’s Gate became proof of how devotion can eclipse reason, and how the need to belong can make even death feel like deliverance.