Money Crimes with Nicole Lapin - True Crime This Week: Killer Trials

Episode Date: January 25, 2026

This week on True Crime This Week, Vanessa Richardson revisits two courtroom battles that defined true crime in the 1990s. First, the sensational Menendez brothers trial, where Lyle and Erik’s confession to murdering their parents collided with shocking abuse claims and a defense strategy that split the jury and ended in a mistrial. Then, the trial of serial killer Aileen Wuornos, whose claims of self-defense unraveled under scrutiny as jurors convicted her of murdering seven men across Florida. From media-fueled trials to emotional testimony and verdicts that stunned the nation, this episode explores how justice plays out when killers take the stand—and how courts separate truth from manipulation. If you’re new here, don’t forget to follow Scams, Money and Murder to never miss a case! For Ad-free listening and early access to episodes, subscribe to Crime House+ on Apple Podcasts. Scams, Money and Murder is a Crime House Original Podcast, powered by PAVE Studios 🎧 Need More to Binge?  Listen to other Crime House Originals Clues, Crimes Of…, Crime House 24/7, Serial Killers & Murderous Minds, Murder True Crime Stories, and more wherever you get your podcasts! Follow me on Social Instagram: @Crimehouse TikTok: @Crimehouse Facebook: @crimehousestudios X: @crimehousemedia YouTube: @crimehousestudios 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/adchoices

Hi, Crime House community. It's Vanessa Richardson. Exciting news. Conspiracy theories, cults and crimes is leveling up. Starting the week of January 12th, you'll be getting two episodes every week. Wednesdays, we unravel the conspiracy or the cult, and on Fridays we look at a corresponding crime. Every week has a theme. Tech, bioterror, power, paranoia, you name it. Follow conspiracy theories, cults and crimes now on your podcast app, because you're about to dive deeper, get weirder, and go darker than ever before. This is Crime House.

This week in crime history, we're looking at two trials that put some of the most infamous killers of the 1990s behind bars. On January 25th, 1994, Lyle Menendez learned that his first court case over the brutal murder of his parents had ended in a mistrial. Two years earlier, on January 26, 7th, 1992, serial killer Eileen Warnos was convicted of murder, and her response shocked the world. Welcome to True Crime This Week, part of Crime House Daily. I'm Vanessa Richardson. Every Sunday will be revisiting notorious crimes from the coming week in history, from serial killers to

mysterious disappearances or murders. Every episode will explore stories that share a common theme. Each week we'll cover two stories, one further in the past and one more rooted in the present. Here at Crime House, we know none of this would be possible without you, our community. Please support us by rating, reviewing, and following, Crime House Daily, wherever you get your podcasts. And for ad-free and early access to Crimehouse Daily, subscribe to Crimehouse Plus on Apple Podcasts. This week's theme is Killer Trials. First we'll start on January 25th, 9th. 1994, when Lyle Menendez's first murder trial ended without a conviction.

The verdict came weeks after his brother, Eric, also failed to be convicted. Prosecutors had presented evidence that the young men killed their wealthy parents for their inheritance. But Lyle and Eric's lawyers convinced some of the jury that the killings had been an act of self-defense, and the case ended in a mistrial. Then we'll jump back to January 27, 1992, when serial killer Eileen Warnos was found guilty of murdering electronic store owner Richard Mallory. Mallory was one of seven men Warnos killed across the state of Florida. But over the course of her trial, she also tried to convince jurors that she'd acted in self-defense. We'll kick off both these stories coming up.

grab your docks, your permits, your moves, AI levels of your pitch, gets it in a groove. Choose a template with your timeless cool. Flex those two. Drive design, deliver, make it sing. AI builds the deck so you can build that thing. Learn more at adobe.com slash do that with Acrobat. On January 25th, 1994, a pair of handsome young brothers stood in a Los Angeles courtroom and waited to hear their fates. For the past six months, 22-year-old Eric Menendez and 25-year-old Lyle Menendez had been on trial for the cold-blooded murder of their parents, Jose and Kitty, in October of 1989.

During the trial, the jury had listened as prosecutors described the gruesome details of the crime, how Eric and Lyle hatched a plan to kill their parents in order to claim a multi-million dollar inheritance, how they ambushed their parents in the family's living. room, repeatedly shooting them with a pair of shotguns, how they'd confess the entire plot to their therapist who testified as a witness for the prosecution. The prosecutors thought they'd made an air-type case against the brothers, but a few weeks ago, Eric's proceedings ended in a mistrial. Now the jury returned to deliver their verdict on Lyle. After weeks of deliberation, the jury couldn't reach a unanimous verdict on his guilt either. They were deadlocked, and the judge judge had no choice but to declare a mistrial. The Menendez brothers and their defense team were overjoyed. At that moment, it looked like they might actually walk away as free men. It was a validation

of the mantra their late father had taught them since early childhood. Lie, cheat, steal, but don't get caught. Eric and Lyle's father, Jose Menendez, raised his sons to be just like him, aggressive, competitive, and successful at all costs. Jose was a Cuban immigrant who went to school for accounting, then started climbing the corporate ladder in the early 1960s. His employees hated him for his rude and abusive behavior, but he brought in a lot of money, and his bosses recognized that. By 1986, at just 42 years old,

he was president of live entertainment, a company that produced tapes of Hollywood blog, blockbusters for the growing video rental market. The job came with a hefty salary, and two years later, Jose moved into a $4 million, 23-room Beverly Hills Mansion with his 44-year-old wife, Kitty, and his son's 18-year-old Lyle and 15-year-old Eric. Jose wanted his boys to share his Take No Prisoners attitude. Throughout their lives, he'd refused to show them any affection or approval because he felt it would make them week. Instead, he strictly controlled what friends they saw, what food they ate, and how they spent almost every minute of their day. He even refused to let them play team-based sports, because he wanted them to learn that they could only rely on themselves. And at breakfast each morning, he'd make them recite a credo he'd written. Today, I will be the master of my emotions. If I feel depressed,

I will sing. If I feel sad, I will. laugh. If I feel ill, I will double my labor. If I feel poverty, I will think of wealth to come. As they got older, the Menendez brothers spent a lot of time thinking about the wealth to come, and eventually it did. Just not in the way Jose expected. Lyle and Eric both loved being rich kids and looked forward to growing into rich adults, but they weren't interested in earning money through hard work. 16-year-old Eric was barely passing his classes and had a reputation for being cocky and arrogant.

But there was at least one sign he was thinking about his future. In high school, he and a friend wrote a screenplay together. It was about a teenager who murders his wealthy parents so he can inherit all of their money. Lyle wasn't much better. In 1987, thanks to his father's money and connections, the 19-year-old got into Princeton, but after just a few months,

he was kicked out for cheating and never received a degree. But that didn't have a negative impact on his career. He later went to work for Jose at Live Entertainment, where he often showed up late and skipped out early to go play tennis with friends. Jose and Kitty hoped this was just a phase, and that maybe the boys would grow out of it. Instead, they only got worse.

In the summer of 1988, Lyle and Eric were caught stealing over $100,000 worth of luxury goods from the homes of family friends. They managed to avoid jail time, but Jose was humiliated and furious. So in early 1989, he and Kitty sat their sons down for some especially tough love. They told them that if they didn't clean up their act, they'd cut the boys out of their wills. Lyle and Eric took this threat seriously, so they hatched a plan to secure a comfortable future for themselves. On the night of August 20, 1989, as Jose and Kitty dozed in front of the TV, Lyle and Eric entered the room armed with two shotguns.

Before Jose and Kitty could react, the brothers started shooting. Jose was killed with a point-blank shot to the back of the head. was shot repeatedly as she tried to crawl away. The brothers ran out of ammunition before she died. So they returned to their Jeep to get more shotgun shells, reloaded their guns, and went back inside to kill her on the living room floor. When both parents were dead, the brothers made a panicked 911 call, claiming they'd come home from the movies and found their parents murdered. Lyle told police he suspected they'd been killed by the mafia, or some of his father's. disgruntled coworkers. Detectives found the brother's story so convincing that they didn't even

bother testing their hands for gunpowder residue. If they'd done this, Eric and Lyle could have been arrested on the spot. Instead, they were free to enjoy their inheritance, at least for a little while. With full access to their family's $14 million fortune, the Menendez brothers started living the high life. Just days after the murders, they spent a combined $15,000 on new Rolex watches. Lyle splashed out $64,000 on a brand new Porsche and another $24,000 on stereo equipment. Eric dropped $60,000 to hire a professional tennis coach. Three months after their parents' deaths, the Menendez brothers had spent more than a million dollars on luxury goods. But the guilt was starting to weigh heavily on Eric.

After an interview with police in October of 1989, he was overcome by feelings of depression, anxiety, and remorse. So he visited his and Lyle's therapist, Dr. Jerome O'Zeele. Over the course of a long session, he talked about his feelings of hopelessness and suicidal thoughts. Dr. O'Zeele pressed him to get to the root of what was troubling him. Finally, Eric broke down in tears and told him, quote, We did it.

We killed my parents. When Lyle found out what his brother had done, he rushed to Dr. Oseal's office and threatened to kill him if he turned them in. But his threat backfired. By threatening Dr. Oseal's life, Lyle had eliminated his and his brother's right to Dr. Patient Confidentiality.

Despite that, Dr. Oseal still treated the brothers For several more months, he later claimed that he felt obligated to help them understand the psychological urges that drove them to kill their parents. But eventually, Dr. O'Zill gave up. In March of 1990, he turned in tapes of their sessions, including their confession, to police. Investigators had already begun to doubt Eric and Lyle's story that their parents' murder was a mob hit. Now that they had audio of them confessing, it was an open.

open and shut case. Police arrested the Menendez brothers a few days later. At their arraignment on March 26th, the courtroom was packed with Eric and Lyle's relatives and supporters. The brothers appeared unbothered, waving to their friends in the gallery and smirking as the judge informed them that they'd been charged with first-degree murder and that they could face the death penalty if convicted. Both brothers pleaded not guilty to all charges. But even with all their money and connections, the judge ordered that both Lyle and Eric be held without bail at the Los Angeles County Jail until their trial could begin. The Menendez brothers would spend the next three years behind bars as their defense team prepared for their day in court. And when they finally went on

trial in 1993, it played out like nobody had expected. When Eric and Lyle Menendez went on trial in 1993, what should have been a simple case turned into a full-blown fiasco. The proceedings began at Los Angeles County Superior Court on July 20, 1993. The presiding judge, Stanley Weisberg, made a few unique accommodations for the case. He decided that both brothers would be trained. tried together, but with two separate juries. One jury would consider evidence that was only relevant to Lyle, and another would only look at evidence relevant to Eric. And due to the immense public interest in the case, he allowed a single camera from court TV into the courtroom to record

the proceedings. The gavel-to-gavel coverage made the Menendez trial a media sensation, and laid the groundwork for the O.J. Simpson trial the following year. Going into the trial, trial, prosecutors felt like they had the advantage. In their opening statements, they described the brutality of Jose and Kitty's murder and highlighted the brother's confession to Dr. O'Zeele, in which they clearly stated that they were afraid of being cut out of the will when planning the murders. The prosecutors talked about the brother's spending spree to show how little remorse they had for their actions. And finally, they reminded the jury of all the lies Lyle and Eric had told the police and their family, in the months after the murders.

Their intent was to show that Lyle and Eric couldn't be trusted and discredit the brother's testimony before they took the stand. They'd put together a compelling argument, but the prosecutors weren't prepared for the defense team's unique strategy. Despite the murder charges, the Menendez brothers still had access to the money they'd received from their parents' estate. So they used $750,000 from their inheritance to hire one of the best defense attorneys money could buy. Leslie Abramson, a well-known lawyer who'd successfully defended more than a dozen high-profile clients accused of murder. She was aggressive, confrontational, and willing to do anything to win.

When it was Abramson's turn to address the court, she said that this case wasn't about who had killed Jose and Kitty Menendez. but why? And the reason she gave turned the trial on its head. Abramson claimed that Jose had been sexually abusing Eric for 12 years. She went on to explain that when Lyle discovered the abuse and learned that his mother knew about it and had done nothing to stop it, he planned the killings in order to protect his brother. As a result, Abramson argued that the brothers weren't guilty of murder. Under a California legal precedent known commonly as the battered person defense, they had acted in self-defense by killing their abusers. Prosecutors were completely unprepared for this strategy. Now, the trial was no longer about Lyle and Eric. It was about Jose and Kiddie Menendez.

As the trial continued, Lyle and Eric took the witness stand to testify in their defense. Both brothers tearfully spoke about being sexually abused by their father, as well as their mother at different times in their lives. They claimed that they felt so ashamed from the abuse that they could never bring themselves to tell anyone about it, even each other. According to them, in August of 1989, Eric finally got the courage to tell his brother what was happening, which inspired Lyle to plan the murders just days later. Throughout the trial, Abramson used a number of purposeful, verbal, and visual cues to make the jury sympathize with the Menendez brothers. When speaking to the jury, she always referred to Lyle and Eric, then 25 and 22 years old,

as boys or children. And she made sure that the brothers always dressed in clothes that made them look like innocent schoolboys, sweaters, sport shirts, and khaki pants. Prosecutors struggled to respond to these tactics. While Jose Menendez was definitely a cruel and emotional, abusive father. There was no evidence that he and his wife had sexually abused their sons. Doctors examined Lyle and Eric and found no signs of long-term sexual abuse. The brothers had never mentioned sexual abuse to Dr. O'Zille or any of their other therapists, friends, girlfriends, or family members. All evidence suggested that the brothers only began claiming their father abused them after they'd hired Leslie Abramson as their lawyer.

Lyle even admitted that ahead of the trial he'd tried to bribe one of his ex-girlfriends to lie under oath and claim that Jose had tried to sleep with her. The prosecution reminded the jury again and again that Lyle and Eric were master manipulators. They played a recording of Lyle's hysterical 911 call to police on the night of the murder in order to illustrate just how good of a liar he could be. They pointed out inconsistencies in the brother's stories and tried to keep the focus. on their callous behavior, which included returning to the crime scene the day after the murders to try and get their tennis rackets. But against all odds, Abramson's strategy worked. On January 13th, 1994, Eric's jury was deadlocked. Then on January 15th, Lyle's jury reached a similar verdict. Only five out of the 12 jurors on Eric's jury had voted for first-degree murder, and just three out of 12 on Lyle's jury.

The rest all believed that Lyle and Eric had killed their parents in self-defense. As a result, the judge had no choice but to declare a mistrial. Lyle and Eric would still have to stand trial again, but the mistrial was a sign of just how convincing and manipulative these two killers could be. The Menendez brothers' second trial began nearly two years later on October 11, 1995. And it was a lot like the first, the same courtroom, the same presiding judge, and the same legal question at the heart of it all. Were 27-year-old Lyle and 24-year-old Eric Menendez guilty of first-degree murder? But the second time around, there were some key differences.

Now there were no cameras. Judge Weisberg wasn't happy with the media spectacle created by the first trial, so he ruled that the second one wouldn't be broadcast. And now, instead of two juries, he ruled that a single jury would hear all the evidence and render a verdict for both brothers. There was one other key difference. The new prosecutors working on the case had two years to prepare a response to the defense's claim that the brothers had been sexually abused.

The prosecution scored over. win early on. They convinced Judge Weisberg that there wasn't enough evidence to prove that the brothers thought they were in imminent danger when they shot their parents. So the judge banned the defense team from using the battered person argument, which had allowed them to claim that they'd murdered their parents in self-defense. As a result, the brothers' defense team couldn't say much about the alleged sexual abuse since it was now deemed irrelevant to the murder case. Once the prosecutors made sure that the jury wouldn't hear about any of the sexual abuse allegations, they went after Eric and Lyle for their greed. Like the prosecutors in the first trial, they highlighted

the numerous lies the brothers told the police after their parents' murder. But they also used a piece of new, damning evidence that had been discovered since the conclusion of the first trial. Lyle and Eric had been so eager to get their hands on the family fortune that less than 24-hour hours after their parents' murder, they returned to the house, and they took more than their tennis rackets. They also removed a safe containing their family's will, which they took to their lawyer's office. The prosecution also presented a computer-generated reconstruction of the shooting, built using forensic evidence. It showed that the brothers had shot their parents repeatedly after they were dead in order to make the killing look more like a mob hit. This prosecutor said was further evidence of the gruesome links the brothers would go to in order to manipulate the truth.

Before, Lyle and Eric had been able to respond to these allegations by earning the jury's sympathy on the witness stand, but in this trial, they'd lost their most persuasive advocate. Lyle chose not to testify in his own defense at the second trial. Following the mistrial verdict, he'd gotten too cocky and bragged to a friend on the second trial. the phone about how he'd tricked the jury. At the time, he didn't realize that phones at the jail were recorded. Now, though, he was aware that prosecutors had him on tape saying this. If he took the stand, they'd be sure to ask him about it during the cross-examination phase, which would likely turn the jury against him and his brother. Instead, Eric was the only one to testify on their behalf.

But because he was no longer able to claim that he'd killed his parents in self-defense, the best he and his lawyers could do was argue that he'd shot them in the so-called heat of passion. Essentially, he was trying to argue that he'd been provoked into shooting them by years of abuse. The prosecutors shredded this argument. In their closing statement, one member of the prosecution called Eric's abuse claims, quote, the silliest most ridiculous story ever told in a courtroom. He urged jurors not to fall for the brother's lies and find them guilty of the greed-motivated murders they'd committed.

This time, the jury wasn't fooled. After just four days of deliberation on March 20, 1996, they convicted both Lyle and Eric Menendez of two counts of first-degree murder and sentenced them to life in prison without parole. They remained behind bars ever since, although in 2025, a judge changed their sentence to make the brothers eligible.

for parole. However, it's unlikely that Lyle and Eric will ever breathe free air again. All the media attention has made their names synonymous with greed, lies, and cold-blooded murder. Members of the California Board of Parole hearings know what these two are capable of, and probably won't be interested in helping them cheat justice for a second time. Up next, another infamous killer who had an eventful day in court. Hey, Crime House community. I'm Carter Roy, the host of Murder True Crime Stories. If you listen to True Crime because you want more than just what happened, this show is for you. On Murder True Crime Stories, we take deep dives into history's most notorious murders, but we don't stop at the crime scene. We look beyond the headlines to understand the real story and the people who are impacted the most. Because these cases, aren't just mysteries, their lives, families, communities that were changed forever. Whether a case is solved or unsolved, my goal is for you to walk away understanding why these

stories still matter and why they deserve to be told with care. Each episode explores the darkest corners of true crime while keeping the focus where it belongs on the human cost. If you're already part of the crimehouse community, murder true crime stories is a natural next listen. New episodes drop every Tuesday and Thursday, beginning January 16th. New episodes will also drop every Friday. Follow Murder True Crime Stories on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, Amazon Music, or wherever you listen. Two years before the Menendez brothers went to court, another infamous killer faced justice for her crimes. On January 27, 1992, 35-year-old Eileen Warnos stood in a Florida courtroom as the jury walked in to return their verdict.

Eileen was on trial for the murder of Richard Mallory, a 51-year-old man who owned an electronics shop in Clearwater, Florida. Prosecutors had claimed that Eileen killed Mallory and stole his car and wallet after he picked her up on the side of the road. Meanwhile, Eileen and her lawyers had insisted that she'd killed her. killed him in self-defense when he tried to sexually assault her. Now, both sides were about to find out which story the jury found more convincing. Evidently, they hadn't needed much time to think about it. The jury had only deliberated for two hours before reaching their decision. The judge read the jury's verdict and announced it to the packed courtroom. They'd found Eileen Warnos guilty of first-degree murder. Before the jurors could leave the room,

Eileen decided, as usual, that she had to have the last word. As the jurors got up to leave, she screamed, I'm innocent, I was raped, scumbags of America. Yelling at the jury like this was a bad idea, because these were the same people who would later determine whether Eileen should receive the death penalty for her crime. Eileen Mornos was born on February 29, 1956, and was abandoned by her mother at the age of four.

Instead, she was raised by her grandparents in Troy, Michigan, but even though they took her in after her mother left, they didn't provide her with the love and support a child needs. Her grandfather regularly beat her with a leather belt for even the slightest infractions, and Eileen was treated differently from her grandparents' biological children. This physical and emotional abuse was bad for Eileen's personal development. She fell behind in school and often started fights with her classmates. As she got older, she started offering boys at school sexual favors in exchange for cigarettes. This resulted in her getting pregnant at the age of 14 in 1970, although Eileen claimed she'd been assaulted by a friend of her grandfathers. Regardless, her grandparents were furious and sent her away to a home for unwed mothers for the duration of her pregnancy. But things didn't get better.

for Eileen after she had her baby and gave it up for adoption. When Eileen returned home, her grandparents kicked her out. At the age of 15, Eileen was homeless and had to learn to fend for herself. Over the next decade and a half, Eileen drifted back and forth across the country, hitchhiking, partying at bars, and making a living through sex work. She was briefly married to the wealthy president of a Florida yacht club, but the marriage fell apart almost immediately. due to her aggressive temper and alcoholism. She later inherited $10,000 after her brother's death, the equivalent of $55,000 in 2025,

but she spent most of the money on a fancy car, which she totaled within a month. And she developed an extensive criminal record for public intoxication, assault, and even attempting to rob a convenience store while wearing a bikini. By 1986 at the age of 30, Eileen wound up in Daytona Beach, Florida, where she met a 24-year-old housekeeper named Tyra Moore at a gay bar.

The two hit it off immediately. Eileen had been through many short, dysfunctional relationships with men. That night, she began a relationship with Tyra that would last for the next four and a half years and end with Eileen in prison. From 1986 to 1989, Eileen and Tyra, were inseparable. The pair lived together in cheap motels and flop houses all over Florida, drinking at dive bars and having fun. Before the two women met, Tyra had been a housekeeper, but eventually she quit, which meant Eileen was supporting them through sex work. But times were

tough. Sex work had been her entire career, but now that Eileen was getting older, she was having a hard time finding men who were willing to pay her for sex. At the same time, she felt insecure in her relationship with Tyra. The two fought whenever money got tight, and Eileen worried that if she wasn't able to provide for her girlfriend, Tyra would eventually leave her. So in late 1989, Eileen found a new way to make money off lonely men in cars. Murder. Between 1989 and 1990, seven middle-aged white men disappeared from highways and back roads all over Florida. First, there was 51-year-old Richard Mallory, who was reported missing in early December of 1989. His badly decomposed body was found rolled up in a carpet two weeks later in a wooded area beside a freeway.

Investigators found he'd been shot multiple times with a 22-caliber pistol. Several months later, in June of 1990, two more bodies turned up. 43-year-old construction worker David Spears, who'd been missing. since May was found dead in a wooded area. He was naked and had been shot six times with a 22-caliber. A few days later, the nude body of 40-year-old part-time rodeo worker Charles Karscadden was found near a freeway. Police recovered nine 22-caliber bullets from his corpse. Later in the month, a retired sailor named Peter Seams went missing during a road trip and was never seen again. trucker Troy Burris disappeared while making a delivery on July 30th, 1990, and was found dead in the woods not long after he was reported missing.

He had two 22-caliber gunshot wounds in his torso. In September, ex-police chief Dick Humphreys was found dead, shot seven times. And a month after that, the naked body of trucker Walter Antonio was found on a remote logging road. He'd been shot four times in the head and back, all with 22-caliber bullets. These killings spanned multiple counties all over the state of Florida, which made the investigation complicated. But as detectives in different jurisdictions pieced together the clues, they gradually realized they were looking for the same suspect, Eileen Warnos. Eileen didn't do a good job covering her tracks.

She sold valuables belonging to her victims at pawn shops, where she was required to leave her name. And even though she often used aliases, she also had to give a thumbprint before she could get her cash, and she often drove her victim's cars for several days after killing them. In the summer of 1990, Eileen and Tyro were spotted crashing one of those vehicles near the town of Orange Springs, Florida, which they then abandoned at the side of the road. When police recovered the car, they found it was full of bloodstains. Even though Eileen left a long trail of clues, it took until early 1991 for police to catch up with her. About 14 months after her first murder, on January 9th, two undercover cops tracked Eileen down at a biker bar in Volusia County, Florida, and placed her under arrest.

At the time, police told Eileen she was being taken into custody for a minor weapon's charge from several years before, they were hoping that if Eileen didn't know they wanted her for murder, she would slip up and incriminate herself further. And they were right. Once Eileen was behind bars, police tracked down her girlfriend, Taira, who agreed to cooperate with police in exchange for immunity. Over the next several days, Tira called Eileen repeatedly in jail, trying to coax her into confessing to the murders on a tape-recorded phone line. At first, Eileen plated coy, refusing to give anything up over the phone. But when Tyra told her she was worried that the police would try to pin the murders on her,

Eileen had a change of heart. On January 16, 1991, Eileen volunteered to sit down with detectives. With her lawyer from the public defender's office present, Eileen rambled for hours about the seven murders. Although her story veered all over the place, Eileen always came back to two central points. Tyra had no knowledge of any of the crimes, and all of the killings had been done in self-defense. As Eileen explained, every man she'd killed had either assaulted her,

threatened to kill her, or attempted to sexually assault her. However, her retelling of events didn't make a lot of sense. Her stories were full of contradictory details, like she was making everything, up on the spot, and whenever she seemed to think she'd said something incriminating, she'd go back and change the details. In the end, her confession made it very clear that she'd committed the killings, and that her claims of self-defense were weak at best. Throughout Eileen's confession,

her public defender repeatedly urged her to stop incriminating herself, but she always pressed on and kept talking. At one point, her lawyer got frustrated and exclaimed to her, do you realize these guys are cops? I mean replied, quote, I know, and they want to hang me, and that's cool because maybe I deserve it. A year later, when Eileen had her day in court, her lawyers would do their best to try and save her from this fate. But Eileen didn't make it easy for them. After Eileen Warnos was arrested in early 1991, she told police that all her killings had been committed in self-defense. It was a bold claim, but now she and her public defender had a chance to prove the story in court. Because Eileen had killed her victims in different jurisdictions

all over the state, she couldn't be tried for all the murders at once. Instead, her legal process began on January 13, 1992, when she went on trial for the murder of her first victim, Richard Mallory. The proceedings took place in Volusia County, Florida, because that's where Mallory's body had been found. Although she was only on trial for Mallory's murder, prosecutors were able to take advantage of a Florida law known as the Williams' rule to use Eileen's other six murders to make their case against her. Starting with their opening statement, prosecutors repeatedly reminded the jury that Eileen had killed seven men and claimed self-defense every time. The prosecution argued that this pattern showed that Eileen hadn't really killed Richard Mallory to defend herself. She was a serial killer, and he was her first victim.

But Eileen disagreed with this assessment, and she was determined to set the record straight. Eileen's court-appointed defense attorney had urged her not to testify in her own defense, but Eileen wanted to tell her side of the story of how Richard Mallory died. When she took the witness stand, Eileen spoke in detail about what happened that night. According to her, Mallory picked her up late at night on November 30th, and she offered to have sex with him in exchange for money. They drove to a secluded area in the woods, where the two spent the next five hours drinking, smoking marijuana and talking.

Finally, at around 5 a.m. on December 1st, Eileen started getting undressed. At that point, Mallory told her he didn't have any money, and then tied her hands to the steering wheel and began to sexually assault her. During the assault, Mallory threatened to kill Eileen, like, quote, all the other sluts I have done. Fearing for her life,

Eileen managed to get free from her restraints and grabbed her purse, where she had her 22-k, caliber pistol. She then leapt out of the car as Mallory chased her, and she shot him several times until he was dead. It was a harrowing story, but as prosecutors pointed out, Eileen was an unreliable narrator. During Eileen's cross-examination, the prosecutors grilled her about the inconsistencies between the story she'd just told and the story she gave to police in her confession. When talking to the police, Eileen had claimed that after driving into the woods, she'd grabbed her gun because she

thought Mallory was going to sexually assault her. Then Eileen said she shot him multiple times, left his body in the woods, and drove off with his car. At no point in her confession did she state that Mallory assaulted or threatened to kill her. On the witness stand, Eileen grew increasingly agitated as prosecutors pressed her to explain the differences between her two stories. something she was unable to do. Her lawyers had to repeatedly warn her not to answer incriminating questions, and she ultimately invoked her Fifth Amendment rights 25 times. The jury was not swayed by Eileen's story.

It took them just two hours to find her guilty of first-degree murder. When she learned the verdict on January 27, 1992, she screamed and cursed at the jurors, calling them, dumbbags of America. The following day, the jurors Eileen had insulted returned to decide her sentence. Despite pleas from her lawyers to consider her abusive upbringing and difficult life circumstances, the jury voted unanimously to sentence her to death. Eileen hadn't shown any mercy to her victims, and the jury didn't show any to her.

Even though Eileen had already been sentenced to death, she still had to stand trial for her other six murders. As she faced down the prospect of several more lengthy trials, she found some help from an unlikely ally. Following her first conviction, Eileen was contacted by a woman named Arlene Prawl. She was a devout Christian who claimed that Jesus had come to her in a dream and told her to take care of Eileen. Praal would later legally adopt Eileen and began charging reporters large sums of money to interview her about her relationship with the infamous murderer. Praal used some of this money to help Eileen pay for a new lawyer to handle her next murder trials. Under the advice of her new lawyer, Stephen Glazer, Eileen pleaded no contest to the murders of Dick Humphreys, Troy Burris, and David Spears on March 31, 1992. Essentially, she was saying that she didn't dispute the state's charge that she'd murdered the three men.

In Eileen's own words, she wanted to, quote, get right with God. As a result, there was no trial, and on May 15, 1992, a judge gave her three more death sentences, one for each victim. But Eileen wasn't just struggling in court. Her personal relationships were faltering, too. By that summer, Eileen had a falling out with her new friend Arlene Prawl after learning how much money she'd been making by talking to the media about their relationship. Now she seemed to lose interest in fighting the remaining charges. In June of 1992, she pled guilty to the murder of Charles Carscadden, and in February of 1993, pled guilty to Walter Antonio's murder as well. For this, she was given two more death sentence.

for a total of six. But Eileen still had some fight in her. At a sentencing hearing, when a judge applied the remaining death sentences, she turned to the prosecutors, cursed at them, threatened their children, and made rude hand gestures. Eileen spent the next nine years on Florida's death row. During that time, she filed numerous appeals to the guilty verdict in her first trial, claiming that her lawyer had mishandled her case.

But as time went on, it seemed like Eileen was less interested in proving her innocence and more interested in arguing with her lawyers. During this period, she fired multiple attorneys before finally giving up on the appeals process in 2001. When her execution date was set for October of 2002, Eileen seemed almost eager to get it over with. Earlier in the year, Florida governor, Bush paused the state's executions during a nationwide controversy over capital punishment.

In response, Eileen wrote to him and the Florida Supreme Court, urging them to let her execution continue. In her letters, she made it clear that she'd killed all of her victims because she wanted to, not because of self-defense, saying, quote, I'm one who seriously hates human life and would kill again. For once, one of Eileen's arguments was effective, and Governor Bush allowed her to die. On October 9, 2002, Eileen was led into the death chamber at Florida State Prison to die by lethal injection. Before she was executed, prison staff asked if she had any last words. In response, Eileen said, quote, I'm sailing with the rock, and I'll be back like independent Day with Jesus, June 6th, like the movie, Big Mothership and All, I'll be back.

Minutes later, Eileen Warnos was gone for good. Looking back on this week in crime history, we can see the legal system at work. Sometimes it creates questions, like if the Menendez brothers were telling the truth about being abused by their parents, and other times it's more certain, like the jury's definitive decision when it came to Eileen Mornos. It can be clumsy and imperfect, but at the end of the day, our courts are the best tool we have to ensure the facts come out, and every victim receives justice. Thanks so much for listening. I'm Vanessa Richardson, and this is True Crime This Week. True Crime This Week is a Crime House original powered by Pave Studios. At Crime House, we want to express

our gratitude to you, our community, for making this possible. Please support us by rating, reviewing, and following, Crimehouse 247, wherever you get your podcasts. Your feedback truly matters. And for ad-free and early access to Crimehouse 24-7 plus exciting bonus content, subscribe to Crimehouse Plus on Apple Podcasts. We'll be back tomorrow. True Crime This Week is hosted by me, Vanessa Richardson, and is a Crime House original, powered by Pave Studios. This episode was brought to life by the True Crime This Week team. Max Cutler, Ron Shapiro, Alex Benadon, Natalie Pritzowski, Lori Marinelli, Sarah Camp, Truman Capps, Sheila Patterson, and Michael Langsner.

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