DISGRACELAND - Woody Harrelson: Contract Killers, JFK Conspiracies, and Fathers & Sons

Episode Date: November 19, 2024

One of Hollywood’s most eclectic and unpredictable actors, Woody Harrelson has played a hayseed barback, a streetball hustler, a natural born killer, a true detective, and so many more. But his most profound and difficult role might be his real-life role: the son of an infamous contract killer. Woody’s father, Charles Harrelson, was sent to prison for the assassination of a federal judge, only after he had been the subject of one of the largest federal manhunts in U.S. history – a manhunt that ended with a six-hour standoff with authorities during which he confessed to the assassination of JFK.This episode contains themes that may be disturbing to some listeners, including domestic violence.What's your take on the JFK assassination? Who do you think was behind one of the most infamous murders in history? Let Jake know at 617-906-6638, [e-mail], or on socials @disgracelandpod.To listen to Disgraceland ad free and get access to a monthly exclusive episode, weekly bonus content and more, become a Disgraceland All Access member at disgracelandpod.com/membership.Sign up for our newsletter and get the inside dirt on events, merch and other awesomeness - GET THE NEWSLETTERFollow Jake and DISGRACELAND:InstagramYouTubeX (formerly Twitter) Facebook Fan GroupTikTokCheck out Kikoff: https://getkikoff.com/DISGRACELAND To learn more about listener data and our privacy practices visit: https://www.audacyinc.com/privacy-policy Learn more about your ad choices. Visit https://podcastchoices.com/adchoicesSee omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

This is exactly right. Double Elvis. When a group of women discover they've all dated the same prolific con artist, they take matters into their own hands. I vowed. I will be his last target. He is not going to get away with this. He's going to get what he deserves. We always say that trust your girlfriends. Listen to the girlfriends.

Trust me, babe. On the Iheart radio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts. This season on Dear Chelsea with me, Chelsea Handler, we have some fantastic guests like Amelia Clark. When like young people come up to me and they want to be an actor or whatever. My first thing is always, can you think of anything else that you can do? Rather be disappointed in. Do that.

David O'Yellowo. I love this podcast, whether it's therapy or relationships or religion or sex or addiction or you just go straight for the guts. Dennis Leary, Gaten Matarazzo from Stranger Things, Tana Monsu, Camilla Morone, Carrie Kenny Silver, and more. Listen to these episodes of Dear Chelsea on the IHeart Radio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts. Your husband is not who you think he is.

Your body is not what you thought it was. Your identity is formed by a secret history. I'm Danny Shapiro, and these are just a few of the stunning stories I'll be exploring on the 14th season of Family Secrets. He kind of shoved me out of the way and said, move. And he went out the front door and he jumped in a car and drove off. And that was the last time I saw him. Listen to Season 14 of Family Secrets, starting May 7th on the IHeart Radio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts.

This episode contains content that may be disturbing to some listeners. Please check the show notes for more information. Disgraceland is a production of Double Elvis. This is the story. of a killer, a contract killer, perhaps a killer who is part of one of the most infamous murders of all time. But it's also the story about that killer's son, an actor, Woody Harrelson, an actor who made great films and great television, an actor who was and is inspired by great music. Unlike that music I played for you at the top of the show, that wasn't great music. That was a preset loop from my

Melotron called Texas book colonoscopy, M.K.1. I played you that loop because I can't afford the rights to Hot Stuff by Donna Summer. And why would I play you that specific slice of Somerville Girl cheese could I afford it? Because that was the number one song in America on May 29, 1979. And that was the day that Judge John H. Wood was gunned down in his driveway. An event that led to a manhunt, a questionable conviction, and a major shift in the way that Woody Harrelson would look at his father forever. On this episode, contract killers, assassinations, fathers and sons, and Woody Harrelson. I'm Jake Brennan, and this is Disgraceland. 1968, Houston, Texas.

A red Cadillac convertible idled on the side of a desolate road, blanketed in darkness. Sandra Sue sat in the driver's seat. She was afraid of what Chuck was going to do to her when he got back. Chuck was outside behind the Cadillac, with the man they'd picked up near the brass jug bar. She heard muffled voices over the purr of the engine. Chuck was probably beating the piss out of the poor guy.

Sandra Sue put a hand. hand to the spot where Chuck hit her, just minutes earlier when she got the car stuck in the mud. Chuck called her a stupid bitch and slapped her across the face, and it stung like hell. It wasn't the first time he hit her and she knew it wouldn't be the last. Sandra Sue and Chuck hadn't been together that long, a few months, half a year maybe. She met him at a party, six foot three, handsome. His eyes were a cavernous blue, impossibly big. They moved in together two days after their first date.

At first, he was sweet, but his mood swung, hard. He was violent. Only a few months into the relationship, she contemplated leaving him, but she was worried how he'd react. She didn't want to take any chances. Chuck, on the other hand, took chances all the time. He liked to gamble, though he wasn't very good at it. On a recent trip to Vegas, Chuck won and lost five grand in quick succession,

which was not good because Chuck needed money, bad, life or death bad. He didn't tell Sandra Sue that he had debts, debts to people that you didn't want to be in debt to. He also didn't tell Sandra Sue that he was married, that he had three sons from an earlier marriage, or that he had been arrested for everything from drunk driving to armed robbery, or that he carried around business cards that advertised his under-the-table services, cards that read, wars fought, revolutions started, assassinations plotted, governments run, uprisings quelled, women seduced, tigers, tamed, bars, emptied, orgies organized. Sandra Sue did have her suspicions.

One night, after Chuck had taken out his anger on her yet again, she asked him, Do you hurt people for a living? Chuck's response? Of course. On this night, Chuck pulled Sandra Sue into his world for the first time. He needed her help. He said that a carpet salesman named Alan Berg had cheated a man out of some money and that Chuck had been hired to convince Alan Berg to pay it back.

Chuck would get $1,500 for his assistance. So Chuck and Sandra Sue call Alan, tell him that she had seen him around town, thought he was cute and asked if he wanted to meet her down at the brass jug. She seductively told him what she'd do to him with her mouth when they met up. Alan Berg couldn't say no. Allenberg also couldn't say no to getting inside the Cadillac when he pulled up hastily outside the brass jug where he was waiting like a rude. He couldn't say no because Chuck jumped from the vehicle before it even came to a screeching hall and shoved a 25 caliber pistol in Alan's face.

Get in the back, Chuck told him. Chuck got in next to him and then told Sandra Sue to drive. She floored him. Chuck tied Alan's hands in front of his body. And then he had Sandra Sue pull the car over on the outskirts of Houston. when he took Alan out of the car and around the back by the trunk. And now Sandra Sue waited. She was nervous.

She was shaking. She figured that Chuck's pistol was just for show. A tactic he used to convince these deadbeats to pay what was owed to the people who hired Chuck. Chuck was a scary motherfucker when he wanted to be. So it probably wouldn't take much time to convince Alan. Sandra Sue's heart leapt to her throat. She could hardly breathe. She stepped out of the Cadillac and ran back to the trunk.

Chuck's pistol was smoking. Alan was face down on the ground, and there was blood all over Chuck's shirt. Sandra Sue's entire body shook. Chuck lifted the pistol and aimed it at her. Get back in the car. I swear to Christ, I'll do this same to you. Sandra Sue hadn't signed up for kidnapping her murder, but she knew exactly what would happen if she didn't follow Chuck's instructions.

She got back in the caddy. She watched as Chuck dragged Alan's lifeless body off. off the road and into the brush. He walked back to the caddy again and pulled a shovel from the trunk. And then he walked back to Alan's body. And after a few minutes, he hollered to Sandra Sue. He needed her again. Sandra Sue got out of the car and walked over to where Chuck was trying to dig into the ground.

He had taken off his coat and tied. He brought the shovel down on the ground, but the dirt was like concrete. God damn it, this wasn't going to work. And Sandra Sue heard a wet, eerie sound coming from the ground. She looked down to something low, muffled, pitiful, it was Alan Berg. Gurgling noises were coming from his mouth. She asked Chuck what was happening.

Chuck looked down at the man he thought he'd just killed. God damn it, he said. Now I'm going to have to choke him. Sandra Sue felt like she was going to be sick. Chuck handed her the shovel and told her to take it back to the car. He took the rope he had tied her out Alan's hands and wound it around Alan's neck, cinched it up deathly tight, and then used it to drag Alan back to the car.

car, where he tossed the twice-killed body in the truck. Chuck looked at San Joseu. I'm driving, he said. The two sat in silence as Chuck drove the Cadillac South for miles to where there was water, and that would be the easiest way to dump the body. Fuck that shoveling shit. And they were far from Houston, probably Galveston. City lights were seated in the distance. Chuck spotted a watery ditch. He pulled the car over, got out, dumped Allen's body in the water. Before he did, however, he pulled a watch off the body's wrist, not because it was expensive, which it was, but because he needed it as proof that he had fulfilled the contract. And that contract was not to scare Allenberg into paying his debt like he had told Sandra Sue.

That contract was to kill Allenberg. Chuck didn't give a fuck about another man's debts. He had his own debts to pay. Woody Harrelson was angry. They said he had stolen a purse. Bullshit. He'd done nothing of the sort. They had no proof.

They were basing their accusations solely on his reputation. Sure, he'd gotten into trouble before it was part of his charm. Woody was lovable, but he was also a bit of a scam. But this was going too far. Not only was he accused of a crime he didn't commit. Now they were attacking him, berating him, hitting him. Woody clenched his fists, he grinned his teeth. He ran from the room where he was being pummeled and persecuted and into another room in the building.

And the anger just continued to build inside him. He felt like he was going to explode. His fists were white-knuckled instruments of vengeance. He just wanted to fucking hit something. So the first window he came to, he shattered. His bald-up fist went right through it. And he found another window and broke that one too. But the building he was single-handedly destroying wasn't just any building.

It was in elementary school. The person accusing him of theft and then beating on him was a teacher. Woody Harrelson was just a first grader. It wasn't the first time Woody's tantrums got him expelled from school. The first time was a few years earlier, in nursery school. As a kid, Woody was quick to anger. His temper was just about the size of his home state and just about his hot, too. He was born in Midland, Texas in 1961, to parents who were polar opposites.

His mother, Diane, was a strict Presbyterian and a positive role model. who instilled the old-fashioned values of treating others the way you would like to be treated. Woody's father, Charles, on the other hand, was a troublemaker. He always seemed to be in and out of a jam, in and out of trouble with the law, as far as what he could remember. His parents split up when he was only five. His father was rarely around. As the years went on, the memories of Texas faded along with those of his absent dad.

In 1968, Woody moved with his mother and two brothers to his mother's hometown of Lebanon, Ohio. He tried to be good, try to keep his juvenile record from getting any more checkered than it already was. But he was his father's son, after all, which meant there was an element of trouble that was simply coated into his DNA. He often wondered if he would ever see his father again. His mother was amazing, no doubt, doing the single parenting thing and all, but what he couldn't help but think that maybe his attitude would be better if his dad were here. He also wondered what his dad was doing at this very moment. but why he was doing whatever he was doing,

far removed from his own flesh and blood, as if Woody and his brothers didn't even exist. And thoughts like those made him really angry. There's two golden rules that any man should live by. Rule one, never mess with a country girl. You play stupid games, you get stupid prizes. And rule two, never mess with her friends either. We always say that trust your girlfriends,

I'm Anna Sinfield and in this new season of The Girlfriends Oh my God, this is the same man A group of women discover They've all dated the same prolific con artist I felt like I got hit by a truck I thought how could this happen to me? The cops didn't seem to care

So they take matters into their own hands I said oh hell no I vowed I will be his last target He's gonna get what he deserves Listen to the Girlfriends Trust me babe on the Iheart radio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcast. I'm Kate Winkler Dawson, a host of the Wicked Words podcast.

Each week I sit down with the true crime writers behind some of the most compelling true crime stories and discuss their years spent investigating and why it still matters. He sees his father coming out of the woods with his hands over his face, and he knows something happened. His father just grabs him and says, she's gone, she's gone. These are the cases that leave survivors, families, and the journalists who cover them changed forever. Working in national television, it'll push you to your limits, and you'll end up doing things you never thought you do. You know, you look back at it and you're like, I can't believe that really happened.

Join me and step inside the investigation. New episodes drop every Monday on the Exactly Right Network. Listen to Wicked Words on the IHeart Radio app, Apple Podcasts, or... wherever you get your podcasts. Your husband is not who you think he is. Your body is not what you thought it was. Your identity is formed by a secret history. I'm Danny Shapiro, and these are just a few of the stunning stories

I'll be exploring on the 14th season of Family Secrets. And just then, we felt the plain turn in the air, so much so that the bags that were under people's seats just kind of flew into the aisle. Each week, we dive head first into the complete. complex power of secrecy, how it shapes our identities and relationships, and how it ultimately can reveal to us our truest selves. My daughter, she's pretending she doesn't know, but is trying to cook and feed me and keep me alive because I wasn't eating anything, and me pretending

like everything was fine. He kind of shoved me out of the way and said, move, and he went out the front door and he jumped in a car and drove off, and that was the last time I saw him. Listen to season 14 of Family Secrets, starting May 7th on the IHeart Radio app, Apple Podcasts or wherever you get your podcasts. Chuck sat on the bed of a motel room with Sandra Sue by his side. The lights from the Houston Astrodome shown through the dirty window. It had been two days since Chuck murdered Alan Berg and dumped the body in a watery ditch out near Galveston. Two days. That's all it took for Chuck to blow through the money

had been paid. All $1,500, and he didn't use a cent to pay off any of the debts that he owed, which meant he had yet to unfuck himself in the bad debts department. Once again, he needed cash, fast, which meant he needed another job, so he found one, one that didn't require any killing. Not that Chuck minded killing, but this one would be easy, or so he thought. There was a knock the motel room door.

In-walked Pete Scamardo, a Texas grainbroker. Chuck didn't know what the fuck a grainbroker was, but he did know that it was essentially a front. for Scarmato's other business, heroin. Scamardo handed Chuck a condom filled with Mexican smack. If Chuck could sell it, they'd split the profits, and there was plenty more where that came from. Chuck agreed.

Could be a nice little cash cow. Weeks later, Chuck still had the same rubber filled with the same heroin. No one wanted it. Despered, he called a contact in Kansas City, who convinced Chuck to bring the dope to the heart of America where he can easily find a buyer. But Chuck found no buyers in Kansas City. In fact, the first person he talked to when he rolled into town was a cop.

He was pulled over the minute he hit city limits. Someone sold him out. Cops even had a search warrant for his car. Twelve fucking hours from Houston to KC. And this is what he got for it. Chuck stepped out of the car with the condom stuffed deep in his jeans pocket. But while the cops poked around the car, he waited for the right moments and pulled a condom out of his pocket and drop it,

unnoticed, down a sewer drink. or on the curb, it didn't matter. The police found a sawed-off shotgun in the glove box and charged truck with a federal firearms violation. He did not, pass go, did not collect money for selling junk. He went straight to jail. He posted bail that night, thanks to the same friend who summoned him to Kansas City in the first place.

But he wasn't in the clear yet. Now he had to go back to Houston and tell Pete Scamardo that he'd dropped the heroin in the sewer while the cops searched his car. Scarmardo was beyond pissed. Thousands of dollars of Mexican heroin down the fucking drain, literally. Chuck owed him, big time. But Chuck didn't have any money.

No matter. He had the ability to do the dirty work that others didn't have the stomach for. And Scarmardo had something that would get Chuck's hands. Real fucking dirty. Pete Scamardo had a partner in the green business. Sam Degilia Jr. Scarmardo wanted him gone.

If Degilia was out of the picture, then the company would collect $100,000 in life insurance. Scamardo could use half of it to pay off the business loans and the other half. Well, don't worry about what he'd do with the other half. Scamardo offered Chuck two grand to put a bullet into Gileas' head. Chuck left Sandra Sue back home this time, and Jerry Watkins and ex-Con just out of prison who Chuck had recently met went along for the ride. And they drove way the fuck out to McCallin, Texas,

so far south that they were practically in another country. Chuck told Jerry to wait in the car. He took his 25 caliber pistol from the glove box. He thought about the two grand. It wasn't enough. It was never enough. He could start to make a dent on some of the debts he owed. He just had to resist the urge this time.

Don't piss it all the way on poker and booze. Easier said than done. Suddenly, DeGelia appeared. It was dark, but Chuck could see him walking near a small shack, alone. DeGelia could hardly make out Chuck as he made his quick approach. But he saw Chuck's eyes, big, blue like tidal pools that spun in the shadows and swallowed the real estate of Chuck's face. Chuck trained the pistol on DeGelia. He motioned to the shack, inside, now.

Chuck followed Aguilia inside the little shack. He told DeGilea to get on his knees. The grain broker was shaking from his head to his feet. He tried to beg for his life, but he just stuttered through spittle and panicked breaths. Chuck repeated the instruction, on your fucking knees, now. Agilea dropped to his knees with a thud, and the plywood dug into his skin. He looked up at Chuck, six foot three, towering over him. Even though the barrel of the pistol was inches from his face,

all the Gilea could see were Chuck's blue eyes lurking behind it. Those eyes hypnotized her. Aguilia didn't even notice that Chuck could move the pistol even closer to his face and had begun to squeeze the trigger. Inside the car, Jerry heard the gunshot. He turned the ignition. An irate caller argued politics with a combative host on the AM radio. And seconds later, Chuck emerged from the shack.

He got back in the car. And what the fuck was Jerry listening to? Talk radio? Nah. It was a long drive back to Houston and this shit was going to forge off to tears. He told Jerry to drive and then grab the tuner with his fingers and change the channel. Breaking news to report tonight out of Texas. Charles B. Harrelson has been found guilty for the 1968 murder of Samuel de Galli in Germany.

Woody Harrelson turned the car radio up, leaned his head in toward the speaker. Did he just hear what he thought he heard? Charles V. Harrelson? Could it be? How many Charles V. Harrelson's were there in the world? Nah, it couldn't. It couldn't be. His father may have been a deadbeat to his family or just a faded memory to Woody, but he wasn't a killer.

Right? Woody looked out the window and searched the parking lot for his mom's friend, the one who had picked him up from school to bring him home. She had stopped to run an errand and left him alone in the car. Then the report on the radio amplified just how alone he fell. His stomach began to turn. He dug his fingers into his palms and made a fist. He knew something wasn't right.

He knew deep down that something was horribly wrong. He didn't know if he should be sad or if he should be angry. And sometimes he couldn't tell the difference between the two. It was 1973, Lebanon, Ohio. Woody Harrelson was 12 years old. It had been years since he'd heard from his father, let alone seen him. Regardless, he felt a connection, a son to a father. Maybe it wasn't actually there, but he felt it, he wanted to feel it.

Could be wishful thinking. Woody and Charles were both born on the same day. July 23rd. Woody thought about how someone once told him that the Japanese had this belief that if a son was born on his father's birthday, he wasn't like his father. He was his father. Wild. To think, somewhere out there, there was a man who was just like him, only a little older.

But if they were exactly alike, and if Charles V. Harrelson was, in fact, a convicted murderer, and what did that say about Woody? His fist got tighter. He felt sick. He wasn't paying attention when the driver's side door opened. He jumped. His mother's friend got back in the car. She looked over at him, and Woody looked like he was in shock.

She asked him what had happened. Was he all right? Woody paused to collect his thoughts and then said, What do you know about my father? We'll be right back after this word, word, word. There's two golden rules that any man should live by. Rule one, never mess with a country girl. You play stupid games, you get stupid prizes.

And rule two, never mess with her friends either. We always say that trust your girlfriends. I'm Anna Sinfield. And in this new season of The Girlfriends, Oh my God, this is the same man. A group of women discover they've all dated the same prolific con artist. I felt like I got hit by a truck. I thought, how could this happen to me?

The cops didn't seem to care. So they take matters into their own hands. I said, oh, hell no. I vowed. I will be his last target. He's going to get what he deserves. Listen to the Girlfriends. Trust me, babe. On the IHeart Radio app, Apple Podcasts,

or wherever you get your podcast. I'm Kate Winkler Dawson, a host of the Wicked Words podcast. Each week I sit down with the true crime writers behind some of the most compelling true crime stories and discuss their years spent investigating and why it still matters. He sees his father coming out of the woods

with his hands over his face, and he knows something happened. His father just grabs him and says she's gone. She's gone. These are the cases that leave survivors families and the journalists who cover them changed forever. Working in national television, it'll push you to your limits, and you'll end up doing things you never thought you'd do.

You know, you look back at it and you're like, I can't believe that really happened. Join me and step inside the investigation. New episodes drop every Monday on the Exactly Right Network. Listen to Wicked Words on the IHeart Radio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts. Your husband is not who you think he is. Your body is not what you thought it was.

Your identity is formed by a secret history. I'm Danny Shapiro, and these are just a few of the stunning stories I'll be exploring on the 14th season of family secrets. And just then, we felt the plain turn in the air, so much so that the bags that were under people's seats just kind of flew into the aisle. Each week, we dive head first into the complex power of secrecy,

how it shapes our identities and relationships, and how it ultimately can reveal to us our truest selves. My daughter, she's pretending she doesn't know, but is trying to cook and feed me and keep me alive because I wasn't eating anything, and me pretending like everything was fine. He kind of showed me out of the way and said, move. And he went out the front door,

and he jumped in a car and drove off, and that was the last time I saw him. Listen to season 14 of Family Secrets, starting May 7th, on the IHeart Radio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts. The blessing and the curse of playing a memorable TV character over the course of many seasons and many years is that the character never leaves you.

Just ask Peter Falk. He starred in amazing films by authors like John Casavetes and Vim Vendors, but to most, he'll always be Colombo. Tom Selleck will always be Magnum P.I., George Reeves, Christopher Reeves, Superman, both to the end. And after eight years playing a country bumpkin bar Barback on Cheers, Woody Harrelson could have very easily been Woody Boyd the rest of his life.

Instead, when the long-running NBC sitcom wound down in the early 1990s, Woody pursued film roles that aggressively played against Type. He played a street hustler on a half court next to Wesley Snipes and white men can't jump. He let Robert Redford sleep with his wife for a million dollars in a decent proposal. And then, he obliterated any remaining trace of Woody Boyd with a chilling performance as a natural-born killer in Oliver Stone's controversial and hyper-violent 1994 film. It was a role that was as different from Woody Boyd as Kirstie Alley was from Shelley Long. I thought he was sort of a psycho, Stone said at the time, when asked about the left-field

casting choice. That's why I liked him. His eyes were kind of blue and blank. Woody Harrelson had his father's eyes, naturally. Even if he had only had the opportunity to look into his father's eyes a handful of times in his entire life. Charles Harrelson was doing a hard time. not for the murder of carpet salesman Alan Berg, for which he was acquitted in 1970,

and not for the murder of grainbroker Sam DeGelia Jr., the one that Woody heard about on a car radio when he was a kid, for which Charles served five years of a 15-year sentence. They let him out in 1978 on account of good behavior. It only took a few years for Charles' behavior to go from good to bad again, and once again he was behind bars, and this time it looked like he was there to stay. The fate of Charles Harrelson weighed heavily on Woody Harrelson's mind in 1997 when he appeared on Barbara Walter's annual pre-Oskers television special. Woody was nominated that year for his first Academy Award for another type-breaking role, this one, as the real-life head honcho of Hustler magazine and The People v. Larry Flint.

Woody was thinking of his father again because Barbara Walters had brought him up. It's fairly well known, Walter said. If anybody's read anything about you or talked with you, that your father went off to prison, convicted of murder, and tell me how you feel today and what the story is today. Woody paused and took a deep breath. The last thing anyone wanted to discuss was how their father was a convicted murderer. It was a sensitive subject.

And even though Charles Harrelson was who he was, a hitman, a non-presence in his family's life, Woody wasn't entirely convinced that he was guilty of his most recent crime. Like when Woody was in first grade and a teacher blamed him for theft just because he had that reputation. Woody struggled to find a way to collect his thoughts coherently. Well, he is in prison right now for the killing of a federal judge, which, well, I don't think it was a fair trial, especially because the guy who supposedly hired my father to commit the murder was later acquitted on a retrial. Barbara Walters doubled down.

Woody, do you think your father is innocent? I'm not saying my father's a saint. Woody replied, but I think he's innocent to that one. That one would be the 1979 assassination of federal judge John H. Wood, a crime for which Charles Harrelson was now serving two life sentences. 17 years before Woody's interview with Barbara Walters in September of 1980, Charles was arrested after a six-hour standoff with police in Texas near the Mexican border. He was in a state of cocaine-induced paranoia.

thought the Corvette he was driving was bugged, so he pulled it over and shot it up. This caught the attention of the authorities, who had already pegged Charles' suspect Numero Uno in the murder of Judge Wood. The search for Charles lasted more than a year and cost upwards of $12 million, one of the largest federal manhunts in history. The prosecution later claimed that Charles was paid $250,000 from a Texan drug lord facing a life sentence for drug smuggling to quietly get rid of the judge who had a reputation for harsh sentences. But when police found Charles on the side of the road, he was anything but quiet. He was ranting and raving. He was waving a gun around. He stuck the gun under his chin and threatened to

blow his own brains out. And this went on for hours. And during that time, Charles admitted to committing murder. But not just the murder of a judge, Charles Harrelson also confessed to the assassination of President John F. Kennedy. Hold up. You heard that, right? Woody Harrelson's father, contract killer and the subject of a massive federal manhunt, called a coaked-up audible during a six-hour standoff with police and admitted to killing JFK.

After his arrest, the sobered Charles offered an explanation. At the same time, I said I had killed the judge. I said I killed Kennedy, which might give you an idea as to the state of my mind at the time, Charles told the Dallas TV station. It was an effort to a long call. my life. But Charles's explanation didn't stop the elongation of conspiracy theories that sprouted up around his roadside confession. One theory that has gained traction over the years was that Charles

was one of three tramps arrested for vagrancy near the Texas schoolbook depository on November 22, 1963. The tramp theory gave truthers pause. Was Charles Harrelson actually present the day JFK was shot? Was he actually telling the truth during that police standoff? It wasn't the only crazy theory about Charles Harrelson's mysterious past. Back in 1997, Barbara Walters asked Woody Harrelson about his claim that his father was actually a CIA operative. Woody nodded his head. How did he know? Where was the proof?

Woody smiled and his head went from a nod to a shake. Nah, see, I shouldn't get into this right now, he said. This is where we're going to get into trouble. Woody Harrelson knew trouble. He was born on the same day as his son. troubled and troublesome father, after all, which meant they weren't simply alike. They were the same. But the trouble that Woody was facing wasn't the kind you can simply chalk up to being young and dumb. Not like that time when he was 20 years old, jaywalking with a friend, stopped by a

cop who wanted to see some ID. Woody had his license on him but told the cop he didn't. Why? And why the fuck found out Woody was lying, he threw him up against a wall and Woody regaled free and bolted. Why? He didn't know why. It was just the reaction hardwired inside of him. Within minutes he was surrounded, on the ground, knee to the throat, handcuffed. They tossed him in a paddy wagon, which he did sit in for a little while. But when the paddy wagon made a stop to pick up some drunk and disorderly kids in the back doors swung wide, Woody ran. The handcuffs kind of made it more fun, honestly, and he ran so hard he thought his chest would explode. He heard the cops behind him gaining their feet flat and loud,

their voices even louder, and Woody didn't notice the car. It came from the right, out of nowhere, directly in his path. His body hit it with a smack. He felt the nose of the thing dent his ribs. His body rolled over the hood and then he hit the pavement, head first. And as he figured out a way to use his cuffed hands to clutch his aching head and his bruised ribs, it seemed like a whole precinct stood over him. And the mace rained down and burned his skin. Nah, Woody was no longer 20. He was 36. He had grown-up troubles now. Like how does a son reconcile with a father who was not absent but was objectively not a good person at all. And what do you do with all this anger you feel?

The kind you've carried around with you since you were a little kid. You know better than to let it out, let it have a voice, but it's a part of you. And just who are you? Why do you feel like you have no control over the person you've become? In 1995, Charles Harrelson attempted to escape from the Atlanta Federal Penitentiary, where he was serving two life sentences for the assassination of Judge John H. Wood. He crafted a ladder out of rope and hoisted himself over a wall. A guard caught him in the middle of his great escape and fired off a warning shot.

Charles put his hands in the air and surrendered to his face. That fate was an immediate transfer to the United States Penitentiary administrative maximum facility in Florence, Colorado, a Supermax prison that was notoriously escape proof. With no chance of busting out of a Supermax joint, Charles instead found refuge in isolation. Besides, what the hell did he think he was going to do on the outside? Kill again for money and then blow it all gambling? Again and then repeat the cycle until the death he owed eventually got him killed? On the inside, he had no other debts to settle besides the one he was paying for with the remaining years of his life. He had no contracts left to carry out.

Silence is wonderful, he wrote in a letter to a friend. Being left alone is great. Nobody bothers me. 2002, London. Woody Harrelson just wanted some of that wonderful silence and to be left alone as he sat in the back of a taxi in Piccadilly Square. A few days earlier, he chose not to be alone. Big fucking mistake. He wound up in a compromising situation with three other women.

A paparazzo sold a steamy photo of the encounter to a UK tabloid. Woody's lapse in judgment nearly cost him his relationship with his longtime girlfriend and sued to be wife. She forgave him, but he knew he'd let her down. He'd let himself down. And what was he doing? Who the hell was he? Was he Woody Boyd?

Blissfully unaware of the double entendres flying around him behind the bar of cheers? the mescal and popping psychopath from natural-born killers, the bowler with a prosthetic hand and kingpin, or was he a laid-back Texas boy who sang the praises of all things hemp and got high with Willie Nelson on his tour of us? And maybe he was all of those things, but he hoped he was also a good son. His mother told him he was, his entire life she told him so,

even when he got himself kicked out of school, but he lacked the validation from his dad. And he couldn't even help his dad out, No matter how hard he tried, he did help in small ways, like when he served as a proxy for Charles in 1987, so that he could get remarried from behind bars. But his larger efforts failed. He spent millions of dollars trying to get Charles a new trial. He even found a sympathetic judge.

But after the judge and Woody responded playing a spur of the moment game of pickup basketball, the judge removed himself over concern that the friendly match would be seen as biased. Everything fell apart after that, which sucked because, Despite who Charles was and what he had done, there were things that didn't sit right with Woody about this conviction. The judge who presided over his original trial was allegedly a pallbearer at Judge Woods' funeral. Talk about bias. It was also said that the recording on which Charles was fingered as the hired hitman was obtained illegally. Woody felt the backseat of the taxi get small.

He told the cabby to stop. He wanted to bail. And the cabby told Woody to hang on. And they were in the middle of four lanes of traffic and he had to pull over to the site. of the road first. Nah, what he wanted out? Now. He tried to open the door, but it was locked, and the cabby was yelling at him to hold on, and Woody yelled back. He tried the door handle again, still locked, and the interior of the taxi swallowed him. Woody's heart rate doubled. He kicked at the door, and the taxi swerved as the cabby panicked. But Woody kicked the door again,

and it buckled. But one more kick would do it. He thrust his foot forward again. The door swung open. Woody jumped out into the bus in London night. The cabby followed in a hot pursuit, so much for being left alone. And Woody ran, he held another taxi and jumped in, and the taxi with the broken door was right behind him. Soon, other vehicles joined the chase. A police car, and then another and another, and six London police cars in total. Lights flashing and sirens wailing.

The distinctly European sirens sound so frustratingly foreign. Fifteen years later, in 2017, a decade after Charles Harrelson died of a heart attack, while still in Supermax lockup, Woody Harrelson used the true story of the night he led police on a chase and then spent in a London jail as the basis for a dark comedy called Lost in London. Turning the self-described worst night of his life into a cathartic film project

was an exercise in learning who he had been in the past and who he wanted to become, someone better than before. He could use the future to make up for the past and to make up for any past disgrace. I'm Jake Brennan, and this is Disgraceland. All right, thanks for checking out this episode of Disgraceland. I hope you guys dug it this week's question of the week is

who do you think killed JFK? And why was it Woody's dad? If not, who was it? What are your conspiracy theories? I want to know. I don't care how outlandish they are. Hit me up. Let me know.

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Disgraceland was created by yours, truly, and is produced in partnership with Double Elvis. Credits for this episode can be found on the show notes page at disgracelandpod.com. If you're listening as a Disgraceland All-Axist member, thank you for supporting the show. We really appreciate it. And if not, you can become a member right now by going to disgracelampod.com slash membership. Members can listen to every episode of Disgraceland ad free. Plus, you'll get one brand new exclusive episode every month,

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they take matters into their own hands. I vowed I will be his last target. He is not going to get away with this. He's going to get what he deserves. We always say that trust your girlfriends. Listen to the girlfriends. Trust me, babe. On the IHart Radio app, Apple Podcast.

or wherever you get your podcast. This season on Dear Chelsea, with me, Chelsea Handler, we have some fantastic guests like Amelia Clark. When like young people come up to me and they want to be an actor or whatever. My first thing is always, can you think of anything else that you can do? Rather be disappointed in. Do that. David O'Yellowo.

I love this podcast, whether it's therapy or relationships or religion or sex or addiction. You just go straight for the guts. Dennis Leary, Gaten Matarazzo from Stranger Things, Tana Monsu, Camilla Morone, Carrie Kenny Silver, and more. Listen to these episodes of Dear Chelsea on the IHeart Radio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts. Your husband is not who you think he is. Your body is not what you thought it was.

Your identity is formed by a secret history. I'm Danny Shapiro. And these are just a few of the stunning stories I'll be exploring on the 14th season of Family Secrets. He kind of shoved me out of the way and said, move. And he went out the front door and he jumped in a car and drove off. And that was the last time I saw him. Listen to Season 14 of Family Secrets, starting May 7th on the IHeart Radio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcasts.