They Duct-Taped Plastic Bags Over Their Heads & Watched Them Suffocate

A warning to our viewers. What you are about to watch is a true story. The following program contains content that some viewers may find disturbing. Viewer discretion is strongly advised. >> 911. Oh my god. Uh we just called the police here. >> Yes, but we need a rescue. You got a bad hiding. >> Oh my god.
You need to get the police out to Long Acre Lane. My son is in the basement tied up with this house. I just saw him through the window. I The POLICE WERE OUT HERE EARLIER AND DID absolutely nothing. Both cell phones are on the ground and we can see the people. Him and HIS GIRLFRIEND ARE TIED UP IN THE BASEMENT. Cops out here.
I told him earlier. >> We need to calm down. We’ll get them out there. But yelling at me. >> THEY’RE UNCONSCIOUS, MA’AM. January 31st, 2011, 3:47 in the morning. Holland, Ohio, a quiet, affluent suburb where manicured lawns stretch beneath street lights and neighbors sleep soundly behind locked doors in pristine culde-sacs.
On Longacre Lane, a father’s foot crashes through the front door of a darkened house. John Clark has no idea that what he’s about to find in that kitchen will destroy him forever. His 21-year-old son, Johnny, lies motionless on the cold tile floor. A plastic bag has been duct taped around his head. 3 ft away, Johnny’s girlfriend, 20-year-old Lisa Stra, hands bound behind her back.
Another bag sealed tight around her neck with that same silver tape. In the terrible silence, Jon can still hear it, the faint crinkling of plastic from her final desperate attempts to breathe. Seasoned homicide detectives will later stand in that kitchen and admit they’ve never seen anything like it. Not in Toledo, not in Northwest Ohio, not anywhere.
The method is too unusual, too calculated, too deliberate. But this isn’t just a story about how two young people died in the most terrifying way imaginable. This is about the phone call at 10:41 p.m. when Johnny Clark’s voice suddenly erupted from casual to furious before the line went dead forever. This is about a single cigarette butt that would send one man to prison for life while multiple killers walked free.
This is about unknown DNA that 13 years later is finally beginning to tell its secrets. And this is about a crime so meticulously executed, so brutally efficient that investigators are still asking the question that haunts this case. Who else was there that night? Before we continue, a necessary warning. What you’re about to watch is based on a real crime that took the lives of two young people in brutal fashion.
Some viewers may find the content deeply disturbing. Viewer discretion is once again strongly advised. Welcome to the Shadow Files crime series. Tonight, we venture into a nightmare so evil it defies comprehension. Take a moment to hit subscribe, drop a like, and please let us know where you’re watching from. And now we begin.
>> Joey Jackson, do you realize that the police in coming there two different times? The first time they stayed, I think 11 minutes. The second time they came, 30 minutes. They knew that the 911 call said that the son had said, “Who are you? Why are you here?” And it’s the family that had to find the bodies with the plastic bags over the heads.
>> To understand what happened on Longacre Lane, you have to understand who Johnny Clark and Lisa Stra really were. Because these weren’t just names in a police report. They were real people with real lives, real dreams, and real futures that were stolen in the most horrific way imaginable. Johnny Clark was born and raised in Toledo’s workingclass neighborhoods, where life was loud, vibrant, and unapologetically real.
His Cuban heritage ran deep through his veins, passed down from his mother, Matei, a fierce, protective woman whose love for her son knew no boundaries. In Cuban families, the bond between mother and son isn’t just close, it’s sacred. And Matey called Johnny multiple times every day. Not to smother him, but because that’s what mothers do when they love their children with every fiber of their being.
And Johnny, he always answered, always checked in. Even on the day he died, when she called him at 8:00 p.m., he jokingly reassured her, “Yes, Mom. I’m still alive. Those would be some of the last words she’d ever hear him say. Friends described Johnny as magnetic, the kind of person who lit up every room he walked into, charismatic, popular, the guy everyone wanted to be around.
His phone records from January 30th show 51 calls. 51. And that wasn’t unusual for Johnny Clark. He had a massive social circle that stretched across Toledo, connecting people from all walks of life. But Johnny’s life wasn’t without its complications. He’d been involved in street life. He knew people on both sides of the law. People who made their living in ways that didn’t involve W2 forms and tax returns. He’d made mistakes.
He’d stumbled. But the people closest to him saw something else emerging. Johnny was trying to turn things around. He was talking about his future, about building something real with Lisa, about becoming the man his mother always believed he could be. 20-year-old Lisa Stra came from a completely different world.
She grew up in a stable, middleclass family in Holland, the kind of neighborhood where parents coached little league and everyone knew their neighbors names. Her parents, Jeff and Mary Beth, had been married for 25 years, and on January 30th, 2011, they were celebrating their silver anniversary on a cruise ship, toasting to a quarter century of love and commitment.
Lisa was working at TGI Fridays, serving tables and saving money while she figured out her next move in life. Her friends describe her as independent and strong willed, the kind of young woman who knew her own mind and wasn’t afraid to stand up for what she believed in. She was protective of the people she loved, fiercely loyal to those who earned her trust, and Johnny Clark had earned it.
When Lisa brought Johnny home, not everyone in her family was thrilled. He came from a different background. He had a past. There were reservations, questions, concerns. But Lisa saw something in him that others missed. She saw past the rough edges, past the mistakes, past the reputation. She saw the person underneath. And she believed in him.
Her bedroom in her parents’ Holland home became a temporary sanctuary for them both, a quiet space where two young people from different worlds could just be themselves. Their relationship wasn’t perfect. They were young, still figuring out who they were individually, let alone as a couple. But those close to them saw something genuine. Real love.
The messy kind that doesn’t exist in fairy tales, but shows up in the everyday moments. Late night conversations, shared laughter, plans whispered in the dark. January 30th, 2011 was supposed to be one of those simple, forgettable nights that young couples treasure. Watch the Pro Bowl, hang out with friends, play some pool in Lisa’s parents’ basement.
Nothing special, nothing dangerous. But somewhere in Toledo’s streets, a rumor was spreading like poison. A lie that would cost them everything. Word on the street said there was a safe hidden inside the Stra home on Longacre Lane. A safe containing $100,000 in cash. It was completely false. There was no safe, no fortune, just $40 that Jeff and Mary Beth had left behind for pizza money.
But Johnny and Lisa had no idea that lie was coming for them. They had no idea that on that cold January night, multiple people were planning to kick in a door, tear through a house, and do whatever it took to find money that didn’t exist. They had no idea they had hours left to live. Sunday, January 30th, 2011, started like any other winter day in Toledo.
Mother Nature had dumped 5 in of fresh snow over the previous days, but by afternoon the roads were clear and life was moving forward. Johnny spent the day at a friend’s house watching the Pro Bowl. Lisa was pulling a shift at TGI Fridays serving tables and earning tips. At 10 p.m., Johnny picked her up from work and they drove to her parents’ home on Longacre Lane, a comfortable two-story house in an affluent neighborhood where violent crime simply didn’t happen.
Jeff and Mary Beth were somewhere in the Caribbean celebrating their anniversary, completely unaware their daughter had just walked through the door for the last time. The plan was simple. Hang out, then pick up friends Tiffany Williams and Zack Burquette. They’d all come back, shoot some pool, maybe order pizza.
At 10:41 p.m., Johnny’s phone rang. Johnny didn’t say hello. His voice exploded. “Bro, what are you doing?” He said it three times, each time louder, each time angrier. Then, “Who the hell are you?” Tiffany heard another male voice in the background. Johnny’s tone suggested he recognized the first person, but there was someone else there.
someone who shouldn’t have been. His final words, “I’ll call you back, Tiff.” The line went dead. Over the next hours, Johnny’s phone rang 22 times. Every call unanswered. Friends started texting, calling, growing concerned. Tiffany and Zach drove to the house. Lights were on. They knocked. No answer. They assumed Johnny and Lisa were ignoring them and left.
But when Matey heard her son wasn’t answering his phone, every maternal instinct screamed something was wrong. At 1:21 a.m., she called 911, requesting a welfare check. Deputies searched the perimeter. Television on, no footprints in the snow, no obvious forced entry, no probable cause to enter. They left. At 2:27 a.m.
, Matey called again and drove to the house with family. Deputies returned, searched for over 20 minutes. Still no legal justification to break down the door. Before leaving, one officer pulled John Clark aside. As an officer, I can’t tell you to go into that home, but as a parent, I would wait for us to leave, then go in. John understood.
After the deputies drove away, Jon and a family member circled to the back. Through the blinds, they could see Johnny on the kitchen floor, his phone nearby. John ran to the front and kicked in the door. At 3:47 a.m., he found his son lying motionless. A plastic bag duct taped around his head.
Lisa was 3 ft away, hands bound, another bag sealed around her neck. John ripped both bags off and prepared to do CPR. But as he lifted Johnny’s body, the terrible truth became undeniable. They were already gone. John stumbled outside and in his own words lost his mind. When first responders arrived, what they found defied everything they thought they knew about murder in Lucas County.
Lisa Stra was lying face down on the kitchen floor. Her hands were duct taped behind her back. A plastic bag had been wrapped around her head and secured with more tape around her neck. 3 ft away lay Johnny Clark. His feet were duct taped together. His hands were bound. An identical bag was sealed around his head. The medical examiner would later confirm death by asphixxiation.
Either the bags or the tape around their necks could have killed them within minutes. Both victims had their upper clothing pulled up, lower clothing pulled down slightly. They’d been dragged across the floor and staged in the kitchen. On Johnny’s stomach, deliberately placed was his empty wallet, a message, a calling card. But the real story was written in the chaos upstairs.
The master bedroom looked like a tornado had torn through it. The king-sized mattress yanked off the box spring. Dresser overturned. Attic access panel opened. Insulation disturbed. The walk-in closet ransacked. Clothes dumped everywhere. Cabinet drawers throughout the house pulled out. Contents scattered.
Lisa’s purse completely emptied. This was surgical, methodical, targeted. Yet sitting in plain sight were multiple pieces of valuable jewelry, completely untouched. Envelopes containing Iraqi currency left behind. If this was simple robbery, those items would be gone. The killers wanted one thing. That rumored safe with $100,000. Lisa’s bedroom door told its own story.
Splintered, damaged, forced open. She’d barricaded herself inside while Johnny fought downstairs at the garage door. Investigators found damage to the interior of the service door from the garage. Johnny had likely seen the killers coming and tried to push his weight against the door to keep them out.
At 200 lb, it would have taken multiple people to force that door open. They broke through. They dragged Lisa out. Her cell phone was found in a different location, torn from her hands. In the sunroom, investigators discovered a torn photograph of Johnny and Lisa. The cruelty wasn’t just in how they died. It was in the time the killers took. They were thorough.
They were organized. They were in no rush. Despite the fresh snow that had fallen days before, there were no footprints around the home. The killers had entered through the garage, leaving no trace outside. The scene was almost too clean, too organized. And that’s what terrified investigators most. This level of planning, this kind of execution, it meant the people who did this knew exactly what they were doing.
>> I found them and I ripped off the bag off my son’s head. >> You found them tied up by how much bags were on their head. >> Then went to her and did the same. >> When homicide detectives arrived at the Stra residence, they knew immediately they were dealing with something they’d never seen before.
Captain Matt Luettka would later admit that specific of an MMO. We have not had any cases like that. Suffocation with plastic bags and duct tape. Calculated personal. The level of organization and brutality pointed to professionals. Multiple investigators initially suspected cartel involvement. MS13 Mexican street gangs, organizations known for sending brutal messages.
Defense attorney John Thieves would later observe, “It was remarkable how clean it was. Usually you have blood, fingerprints, but there was almost nothing. No witnesses, no surveillance footage, just the bodies, the duct tape, the ransacked rooms, and one crucial detail. Deputy Frank Rei noticed a cigarette butt near the garage service door.
Strange, there was no smell of smoke in the house, no ash anywhere. The cigarette was collected and sent to the Ohio Bureau of Criminal Investigation for DNA analysis. The results came back with two profiles, Sam Williams and Cameo Pettaway. Both names hid in the Cotus database. Investigators finally had suspects, but detectives began pulling at threads, interviewing associates, tracking down everyone in Johnny’s orbit.
Alex Kazino quickly drew attention. She’d had a falling out with Johnny over an unpaid puppy debt and a faulty car sale. >> Did you use with Johnny pills? >> Yeah. >> Smoke weed? >> Yeah. >> Did you buy your weed from Johnny? >> No. >> Did you buy your pills from Johnny? >> Who’d you buy your weed from? I mean, I know all the players in this thing.
I really do. >> No, I know you do. But see, there’s a lot of like with this whole situation like you obviously I’m from the east side. I’m not from the south side. So like a lot of people there I know. I really don’t know them though because they they won’t like talk to me. They won’t have nothing to do with me because I am from the east side.
>> Days after the murder, she sent a chilling text to another woman. I do this fam. Watch the news. They get duct taped and tied up and left for dead. Anthony Watson’s name surfaced, too. According to a friend, Johnny was waiting for Watson at 10:41 p.m. >> Did you see Johnny that day? >> No, I didn’t see him at all.
What time did you start talking to Johnny on the phone? >> I probably talked to him in the morning, but when I started talking to him, like I I mean, I probably I talked to him every day, all day. You know what I’m saying? When he was >> Yeah. >> But that’s what I’m um >> Watson’s story would change multiple times during interviews.
In 2018, he’d be gunned down outside his apartment in an unsolved murder that some believe was connected to what he knew. Street rumors were everywhere. The $100,000 safe, the empty house, the parents on a cruise. Information that should have been private was circulating through Toledo’s underground like wildfire. But the cigarette wasn’t the only DNA evidence.
Crime scene analysts discovered multiple sets of unknown DNA on the duct tape around Johnny and Lisa’s necks. More on the tape binding Johnny’s ankles. Even more inside the pocket of Johnny’s sweatpants. At least four unknown female DNA profiles. At least one unknown male. None matched the dozens of people detectives interviewed and swabbed.
The evidence was clear. More than two people were involved in this murder. September 22nd, 2011, eight months after the murders, Sam Williams was having what he’d later describe as a moparound day, sleeping late, playing video games. When he ran out of cigarettes, his brother agreed to buy him a pack if Williams came along.
As Williams crossed the street, US marshals and detectives swarmed with guns drawn. Williams assumed it was about a misdemeanor domestic violence warrant. He had no idea what was really coming. >> You know a guy named uh Johnny Clark. >> You don’t know John Clark? >> You know a young lady named Lisa Straw? >> No. Don’t know Johnny Clark.
You don’t know Lisa Slo. >> You ever been to that house since Springfield Township? >> No. >> Okay. You sure? >> I’m positive. at the sheriff’s department. 11 minutes into the interview, Detective Jeff Kak dropped photographs of Johnny Clark and Lisa Stra on the table. Kak’s voice filled the room. Tell me why your DNA is at my crime scene.
Williams, arms crossed, refused to answer, asked for his attorney six times, but before his lawyer arrived, he made one critical statement. He denied ever being inside the Stra home. That statement would later be suppressed due to Miranda violations, but the question hanging over everything remained.
How do you explain your DNA at a murder scene in a house you claim you’ve never visited? Almost immediately, William started making calls from the county jail. Prosecutors listened to every word. In a call to his nephew, Chris, William said, “I effed up. I’m going to be in here for a long time.” Prosecutors presented it as an admission of guilt.
Williams claimed he was panicking about drugs in his home that would be stolen before he could sell them to pay for an attorney. The most damaging call came to Steven Paway, Cameo’s brother. That was supposed to be me and you, but you know, little bro had to step to take your spot, man. Prosecutors argued this proved Cameo went to the murder scene instead of Steven because Steven was in jail.
Williams insisted they were discussing a prostitution trip to Pittsburgh. The jury heard only select portions of these calls. Out of context, carefully edited. Then came Eric Yingling. Yingling was in county jail on a child support violation when he claimed Sam Williams confessed during a late night conversation.
According to Yingling, Williams said he was tormented by the sound of the crinkling bag as Lisa tried to breathe. Yingling named three killers. Williams, Cameo Pedaway, and Eric Taylor, who was never charged. But Yingling’s testimony was riddled with problems. Every detail he shared was publicly known by the time he spoke to police.
He admitted his wife had looked up case details online. He freely acknowledged he was looking for a deal. The clincher, Jingling claimed, was when Williams mentioned finding Iraqi dinars in the Stra home. Prosecutors emphasized that only the killers and police knew about those dinars. Except that wasn’t true. >> This is a horrific circumstance.
Uh, by all means, Gene, you know, I mean, listen, in terms of probable cause or objective standard, whatever you want to call it, there’s more than ample here. You have a phone call to 911 repeatedly by the mother. You have the the girl who’s describing the friend who’s saying it’s Ramsack, the lights are on, you have the car there and they’re not there, it’s problematic.
And even if you say there was no objective credible reason or probable cause, Gene, what about an exigent circumstance? Something needed to be done. Something needed to be done immediately and it wasn’t done. And it’s unfortunate. And I hate to bismerch the character of our members in blue. They protect us. They keep us safe, but something is a miss.
The dinars were listed on a search warrant released to the media within a week of the murders and discussed on CNN. After testifying, Yingling was paid thousands of dollars. Williams maintains, “He is a master manipulator. I never had any detailed conversation with him.” But what about Williams alibi? When arrested 8 months later, Williams couldn’t immediately recall where he’d been on January 30th.
After reviewing phone records, he claimed he was at the Bottomline Bar on Toledo’s east side watching the Pro Bowl. His cousin Larry Gillhouse confirmed Sam had been at his daughter’s birthday party that afternoon, helped clean up, then they headed to the bar. Friend Eddie Flores backed up the story. He met them there after work because his cousin Nick was turning 21 at midnight.
Phone records show Williams called Destiny Madrid at 10:27 p.m. The call pinged off a cell tower near the Bottomline bar. The Pro Bowl ended at 10:45 p.m. Madrid told detectives repeatedly that she was with Sam that night. >> He was with me that night. And I want to say, I’m not quite sure, but I want to say that we had went to the Bedford Hotel that night, but I’m not sure.
I haven’t went to the hotel. I don’t know if I can go to the hotel and get the like records. >> All right. What if I clear it up for you? What if I tell you that you’re not on the video with the bottom line on that night? >> What do you mean? >> The bottom line has video, >> right? >> You or Sam are not on that video that night inside the bottom line >> or whatever bar that was.
Was it the bottom line? >> Yeah. >> Yeah. >> We were sitting right by the front door like that table by the front door. It was like right there. There was four seats. And I don’t know who the other guy that was with us, but I know it was me, Sam, and Larry. And then there was another person, but I don’t know what his name was.
But we were sitting like here’s the door and the table like right there. We were sitting right there. Like >> what was on TV that night? >> The NFC football game. >> The NFC Oh, the championship game. >> Yeah. Yep. >> It was I want to say it was a Sunday to be honest. I want to say it was a Sunday that we were there.
because Sundays they normally have karaoke, but I think the karaoke was not there that night. >> When she insisted she’d be visible on the bar’s security video, Detective Tom Ross shushed her. Later, Kak admitted to Gill House there was no video from that night. Phone records show Williams called his cousin at 2:51 a.m.
, 3:01 a.m., and 3:04 a.m. He also called Cameo Pedaway six times between 2:38 and 3:27 a.m. All went unanswered. Prosecutors argued the calls to Cameo proved they were coordinating their story after the murder. Williams offered a different explanation. He was cheating on his girlfriend with Madrid and needed a discreet place to go.
He trusted Cameo not to tell. Police obtained a court order for Williams text messages. They were never used at trial. No explanation given. Williams family requested his two confiscated phones back multiple times. Police never returned them. In July 2012, Sam Williams was convicted of aggravated murder, burglary, and kidnapping.
Defense attorneys successfully argued against the death penalty, but Williams was sentenced to life in prison with no chance of parole. Cameo Pedaway was tried separately. Judge James Bates dismissed his case, ruling that the cigarette alone was insufficient evidence. Cameo Pedaway walked free. >> Johnny Clark’s mother was banned from the courtroom during Pedaway’s trial.
At the time, Judge Bates believed that she couldn’t control her emotions and would cause problems in the courthouse. We caught up with her tonight. >> I want to say this to Judge Bates. The world will not be destroyed by those who do evil, but by those who watch them do the evil without doing anything about it.
>> Johnny’s mother, Matey Clark, says the prosecution was lazy and the dismissal was granted because the county prosecutor, Julia Bates, is the wife of the judge in the case. Clark has sent a letter to Attorney General Mike DeWine asking him to investigate. >> Nowhere else in Ohio’s 88 counties does a judge in a court of common police hears cases involving his spouse as the county prosecutor.
>> She also says there were more people that were involved in the murders. >> I believe nine. Yeah. >> In the courtroom moments before sentencing, Sam Williams smiled. Johnny Clark’s mother, Matei, would later say, “When I look in his eyes, I see Satan.” Sam Williams sits in a cell at Marian Correctional Institute, convicted of murder.
But the case of Johnny Clark and Lisa Stra technically remains open because the DNA evidence tells a story that doesn’t end with one man behind bars. Captain Matt Luetta put it bluntly. Somebody knows what took place. There were more people involved than just one. For years, that unknown DNA sat in evidence compared against the COTUS database with no hits.
Traditional PCR testing had reached its limits. Then, in 2021, 11 Investigates produced a comprehensive series on the murders, reviewing thousands of pages of documents. Many key players refused to go on camera. Fear still hung over the case a decade later. After the broadcast, worldrenowned genetic genealogologist CC Moore reached out, expressing interest.
Lucas County Sheriff Mike Navar ordered the unknown DNA sent to Parabon Nanolabs in Virginia. In July 2024, the sheriff’s office confirmed they’d received information from Parabon. CC Moore had worked on the case. That detail is significant because Moore only enters investigations after there’s been a hit in ancestry databases.
The new technology uses genetic genealogy sequencing, analyzing hundreds or even thousands of DNA markers compared to the handful examined in traditional testing. Profiles are compared against ancestry databases, not just kotis. Moore then builds family trees to find connections. The information Parabon provided hasn’t been publicly disclosed, but the critical question remains.
Does this DNA belong to a killer or was it left innocently during tape manufacturing? Once the DNA source is confirmed, detectives will determine if that person is a viable suspect. But what about the other suspects who were never charged? Alex Kazino’s threatening text was never explained. Her DNA didn’t match the unknown profiles.
Anthony Watson provided a second interview naming Sam Williams and a mystery woman who allegedly placed herself at the scene. He claimed the woman mentioned a man named Drow. After cooperating, Watson’s felony burglary charge was quietly reduced to a misdemeanor. He was never called to testify. On September 19th, 2018, someone gunned down Anthony Watson outside his apartment. That murder remains unsolved.
DNA was collected from dozens of people over the years. None of it matched the unknown profiles found at the scene. Sam Williams maintains his innocence from behind bars. I have no explanation for how it got there, he says of the cigarette. I know I did not place it there, but I do believe I was set up. His criminal history makes him an easy target.
multiple domestic violence convictions, assault charges, threats. He admits to being a drug dealer and a pimp, but he denies being a killer. “I had no involvement in this case,” William says. “And I pray that the families get justice for their family members, and I pray that one day the truth is told and Johnny and Lisa’s killers are put behind bars where they deserve to be.
” Whether you believe Sam Williams or not, one thing is undeniable. He didn’t act alone. Matey Vasquez Clark lost her son, the boy who always answered her calls. Jeff and Mary Beth Stra returned from their anniversary cruise to unimaginable horror. Both families attended every court hearing, sat through every grueling detail.
After sentencing, Matei said, “He is not sorry he tortured and murdered our children. He’s sorry he got caught.” The Stra family spokesman stated, “We are very happy that Samuel Williams will go to jail for the rest of his life, but it’s incomplete justice. Others involved remain free.” 13 years later, the questions still echo. Why this method of killing? Who taught them? What happened in those 5 hours between the 10:41 p.m.
phone call and the discovery? Was the $100,000 safe rumor real or misdirection from the start? Captain Luettka believes the answer lies in conscience. It’s going to be somebody who has information that solves it for us. Someone is going to come forward and say, “This is what happened. CC Moore’s involvement suggests a potential breakthrough.
Technology is advancing rapidly. Answers may be closer than ever.” But 13 years later, someone out there still knows the truth. Someone who was there. Someone who saw what happened. Someone who’s carried that secret every single day since January 30th, 2011. Johnny Clark was 21. Lisa Stra was 20. Two young people who deserved the futures stolen from them.
A community shaken to its core. A case that proves the person sitting next to you at a bar might be hiding something unthinkable. And the question that haunts everyone who knows this story, who else was there? If you have any information about this case, please call Lucas County Crimestoppers at 419255111 or the Detectives Bureau at 4192134917.
Someone out there knows what happened on Longacre Lane. Johnny and Lisa deserve the whole truth. If you like this coverage, join our community by subscribing and turning on notifications. Every subscriber makes it possible for us to keep creating content we’re passionate about sharing with