When Netflix released Unknown Number: The High School Catfish, audiences expected another gripping true-crime tale about the dangers of online anonymity. What they didn’t anticipate was the devastating twist at the heart of the story: the cyberbully tormenting 13-year-old Lauryn Licari wasn’t a stranger, an obsessed peer, or an online predator—it was her own mother. That revelation turned the documentary from unsettling to almost unimaginable, leaving viewers around the world stunned.

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The story begins in Michigan, where Lauryn and her boyfriend Owen McKenny became the targets of relentless cyber harassment. The anonymous messages, often cruel, vulgar and threatening, poured in daily, sometimes as many as 50 texts in a single day. These weren’t just ordinary bullying messages; they attacked Lauryn’s deepest insecurities, mocked her relationships and even urged her to end her life.

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To both Lauryn and her father, Shawn, the harassment felt invasive and terrifying. They believed an external tormentor had zeroed in on Lauryn with the intent to destroy her self-esteem. The family reported the abuse and soon local police, the FBI and even digital forensics experts became involved. Investigators were determined to catch the person behind what was thought to be a dangerous stalker.

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The investigation reached its chilling turning point when digital traces of the messages—IP addresses, phone data, and app records—began pointing back to a person shockingly close to home. That person was Kendra Licari, Lauryn’s own mother.

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When the truth was revealed, the impact rippled through the entire community. Friends and neighbors were aghast, unable to reconcile the image of Kendra as a seemingly devoted parent with the reality of her actions. For Lauryn, the betrayal was unfathomable: the very person tasked with protecting her had become her tormentor.

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The moment the documentary reveals this twist is perhaps its most shocking, because it reframes everything that came before. What once looked like a case of outside harassment was suddenly exposed as a mother meticulously creating an elaborate campaign of fear against her daughter.

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Kendra herself admitted during the documentary that she didn’t start the harassment but eventually “fed off” the messages, spiraling into behavior that grew more obsessive and cruel over time. She referenced her own history of trauma, having been sexually assaulted as a teenager, as one possible explanation for her actions. She suggested that unresolved pain and a desire for control over her daughter’s life played a role in driving her to such extremes.

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Psychologists who viewed the case from afar have suggested parallels to conditions such as Munchausen by proxy, where a caregiver fabricates or induces suffering in a child to exert control or gain attention. While not diagnosed in this case, it illustrates the disturbing psychological undertones that made the story so much more than just “bullying.”

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In 2023, Kendra pleaded guilty to two counts of stalking a minor. She received a sentence of 19 months to five years in prison and was released on parole in 2024, barred from contacting Lauryn until at least 2026.

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For Lauryn, the damage was both immediate and long-lasting. Trust had been shattered, not just in her mother but in the very concept of parental protection. Her father, Shawn, who divorced Kendra and took full custody, became her primary support system. Their relationship grew closer as they worked through the trauma together.

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Lauryn, now older, has expressed cautious openness about possibly rebuilding some kind of relationship with her mother but it’s clear that scars remain. For many viewers, this highlighted one of the most haunting aspects of the story: betrayal that cuts deeper than any stranger could inflict.

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What makes Unknown Number so disturbing isn’t just the act of cyberbullying, it’s the violation of trust. Viewers expect villains in true-crime stories to be external threats: predators, strangers, or sometimes acquaintances. But the idea that the cyberbully was a mother weaponizing technology against her child created a sense of horror that far surpassed a typical crime documentary.

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The film forces viewers to confront uncomfortable questions: How well do we truly know the people closest to us? What kind of hidden pain or distortion could drive a parent to harm their own child in such a calculated way? And how does a child ever reconcile love with betrayal when both come from the same person?

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After the documentary’s release, social media exploded with disbelief and outrage. Many viewers expressed visceral anger, describing Kendra’s actions as “unthinkable,” “sick” or “evil.” Others reflected on how the case made them rethink dynamics in their own families, drawing parallels to controlling or abusive parenting.

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What united most reactions was shock—the sense that this was a story stranger than fiction. The betrayal was so extreme that many people struggled to process it, even with Kendra’s own attempts to explain her behavior.

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Unknown Number: The High School Catfish doesn’t just document a cyberbullying case; it reframes how we think about trust, parenting and the potential for harm within families. The revelation that the abuser was the victim’s mother transformed the story into one of the most shocking true-crime narratives in recent memory.

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It is a tale of trauma perpetuating trauma, of love twisted into control, and of the devastating consequences when protection turns into persecution. For Lauryn, healing is still ongoing. For viewers, the shock of that mother–daughter betrayal lingers long after the credits roll, a reminder that sometimes the most frightening monsters are not strangers at all, but those living under our own roof.

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