My Favorite Murder with Karen Kilgariff and Georgia Hardstark - MFM Minisode 100

Episode Date: December 10, 2018

This week’s hometowns include a Mary Vincent connection and rehab cults. See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

This is exactly right. We at Wondery live, breathe, and downright obsess over true crime. And now we're launching the ultimate true crime fan experience, Exhibit C. Join now by following Wondery, Exhibit C, on Facebook and listen to true crime on Wondery and Amazon Music. Exhibit C, it's truly criminal. Hello! Welcome to the hundredth mini-stode.

Hi. Oh, that's perfect. I didn't want to, like, ruin it. Oh, no, it was so good. Straight out both nostrils. I think the key to singing is to sound like you're whining about something irritating. I think that's the way people get the most enjoyment. But also let everyone know how clear your nasal patches are while you're doing it.

You're just like, what's that thing where you pour water in? Fuck, a netty pot, man. A netty pot. Sponsored by netty pot. That's right. This is the hundredth. One hundredth, my favorite murder mini-stode. That's right.

You've sent us all of your emails. Yes. Telling us stories about all kinds of shit. I'd like to request, we requested so many weird fucking things. Yes. I'd like to request, I'd like to go back to number one. Yeah. Send us your hometown murders.

Because nobody sends us hometown murders anymore. Have you noticed that? Well, because it's this continuing discussion. Yes. So everyone's sending us the follow-up of the follow-up. My fucking love. It's very fun. But I feel like in each episode, we each need to have a murder.

A hometown murder. Here's the crazy thing that happened in my fucking town. Jacob Wetterling, whatever the fuck. Your Jean Benet, you know, connection as your cousin, whatever. Yeah. The thing that made you interested in true crime in the first place. Right. And sometimes that is, it doesn't have to be a direct thing, but you can just tell that

little story. We want to slice the life of your hometown and what happened in it that turned you on. Keep sending us that shit in the walls. We love uncle stories. Your uncles are fucking insane. If your uncle's an alien, even better. All that shit. Let's go upstairs.

Let's go downstairs. Yeah. We want it all. That's right. I always go first. Do you want to go first since it's the 100th? We could start a new tradition. I feel like let's start with 101, because I don't want to ruin this role around.

You're right. What if this breaks all the juju and you're done? Do you have a good ending story? Yes. Because I don't. I sure do. Okay, then maybe I will go first. Step forward and take your life.

I'm so nervous right now. That one time the FBI swore my grandmother's farm. Yes. Here we go. Hi. This is what I'm in it for. It's just hi. Great.

I spent the last few weeks putting together a family tree for my mom who was obsessed with genealogy, but can't use a computer to save her life. Good. At least she can admit it. Here's the problem. Computers can't save your life. They can only ruin it. Well, except for those computers that restart your heart.

Right. Right. Or the ones you were around your neck and you press the button. Life alert. I've fallen and I can't get up. That incredibly advanced computer can save your life. That's right. And doing so, I've been able to find records on my maternal family dating back to the 1500s.

What? And even older ones from my paternal grandfather. Crazy. But I was having a hell of a time finding anything about my paternal grandmother. I was to the point that I was convinced she was a criminal when I remembered an interest she did with a local university. Oh. I was delighted listening to my late Nan tell stories from her childhood when she casually

mentions the time her family's farmhouse was swarmed by the FBI in 1932. Yes. As she tells it, her entire family had gathered on the porch to witness two black cars driving up the lane through a cloud of dust. I can fucking see it in the movie version. Tall blue sky in the background with green fields on either side. That's right. And blowing up that dirt driveway.

Old, tiny fucking FBI cars. Hardly any windows. It's all the metal. Black metal. No air conditioning. No. And they have hats on. That's right.

Before the cars were fully stopped, all of the agents had jumped out and were shouting. She couldn't understand what anyone was saying. All she knew was that her mother and blonde-haired blue-eyed baby sister were sobbing. And her brother was screaming, take the diaper off. What? Turns out one of the town's folks called in a tip claiming that my Nan's family were the ones that kidnapped the Lindbergh baby. And her brilliant brother was saying to take the diaper off to prove that their sibling

was a girl. Yes, for fuck's sake. Clearly the Lindbergh kid nothing was big news if a child in a small Minnesota town knew enough to know that the baby was a boy. My favorite part about this whole ordeal is that she never told me anything about it, nor did my dad. Apparently I got my murdering tendencies from my mama, Mackenzie. Yes.

That's rad. That's a beautiful, that's a perfect hometown story, perfection in all ways. And also I went, what a genius uncle or was it an uncle? Whoever the guy that said, take the diaper off? Yeah. That's so, because in those moments you get all, you know, panicked and dazzled and you don't do. Show her the vagina.

Just get that badge out there. Show her. That's essentially what he's saying. Prove that shit. Fine. I want you to yell it to me one day. One day in my life. Take off the diaper, Georgia.

Take it off and prove who you are. I don't want to. Okay. The subject line of my first email is, be careful that your rehab group isn't a cult. What's period up? Period. Yes. So when I was in high school, like so many of us, I ended up in a drug rehab support group.

Me too. Right? Called PDAP, Palmer Drug Abuse Program. This is where I picked up my smoking habit at 14. Yeah. I've been there. Good. Yeah.

Right. Good. I thought, oh God, I thought it was so cool. Good. I thought it was so cool. I thought it was so cool. Amongst other knowing habits that took me a while to break. The main rules of the program were broken down to three Fs.

No fixing. No fighting. No fucking. We all broke every single rule many times, but with the exception of these rules, we were encouraged to vandalize, smoke underage, stick it to the man and never sleep. The whole idea of PDAP was involved, quote, unquote, enthusiastic sobriety. And thus this group created crazy teenagers in the name of sobriety. Some of the activities involved in functions were siphoning gas out of cars early in the

morning and setting the cul-de-sac on fire, getting, quote, unquote, wedged, which was staying up for over 24 hours to get loopy enough to feel high or get a certain thought, quote, wedged in your mind. Oh my God. Right? I started the program seriously for about two years and then grew the fuck up while I watched a lot of my friends go down a really awkward path and end up weird adults. A few years ago, a friend of mine who was also in PDAP asked if I had watched the documentary

The Group Yet, the group, I don't know why I said it like that, the group yet and told me I needed to do it immediately. A few minutes in, I realized PDAP and other rehab programs that were similar were made by the same asshole who essentially created these programs all in a similar fashion and they were all 100% cults. Holy shit. I realized that PDAP checked off all the signs of cults and I was definitely in it for a few years and I'm both so excited to say that I was in a cult and somehow got out safely

but also horrified with just a pinch of shame that I was in it for two years. Check your support groups and make sure they're legit Katie. That's so cr- I totally understand because you think of cults being like you become this mindless, brainless, can't think for yourself, do whatever anyone says but you don't think of it as being a fucking crazy person and going bananas and having fun and shit. Right, exactly. Yeah. If there's behavior influence but you're kind of enjoying it, then of course you don't

think you're in a cult. No. You're just like, I'm sober and I'm trying to have a different kind of life. My first rehab, out of rehab going to meetings, sort of like AA and stuff, they were at my house where I went to Hebrew school as a kid, which we couldn't, there were enough Jews in my town so it was actually a Sunday school. So it was like a double weird thing. Did they use it for both that they turned one into a Sunday school?

No, it was a Sunday school. The Jews showed up and pretended that there was stuff about Jesus on the walls. For Saturday school? For Saturday school and then the fucking drug addicts and alcoholics showed up. On Monday morning. On Monday morning, where I was a 14-year-old, chain smoked out in front as well and thought it was super cool. You're just...

Layers. Every main thing in your life happened in that building. That's right. Layers upon layers. That was fucking great. That's good, right? I love that one. I want to watch that so bad.

I want to watch that so bad. The group is what that documentary is called. I definitely want to watch it. And also it's just a good thing to remember, if you are vulnerable or you're in a place where you're asking for help, that's when the real wolves come out so it's a very good message. You can never ask for help. Is that what you're going to say?

Yes. Be careful and don't trust anybody. Don't light shit on... If you find yourself in your life siphoning gas, unless it's the fucking end days, which then do it, be careful. Until the grid goes down, we all are basically in the military. Let's not siphon gas. At that point, cars aren't going to run on gas anyways.

Never mind. Let's get off this topic because I could talk about it for days. My dad was being investigated as the Green River killer. Shit. Hi guys. When my father was a young, single and mustached 20-something, Sam, he was out with a friend one night in Washington state. While at a bar, I'm assuming close to the Green River, he struck up a conversation with a

hot chick, quote unquote. After a while, they decided to go back to her place and continue, dot, dot, dot, stuff my dad shouldn't be talking to me about. He proceeds to tell me that after many slight attempts of taking her clothes off, she kept squirming away but still making out with him. Confused, my dad straight up asked what's going on and if he should leave. The woman gets up and grabs handcuffs. My dad at this point thinks maybe she's into that kind of thing.

She proceeds to tell him that she's actually an undercover cop and she's been watching him all night because he fits the profile of the Green River killer. Oh my God. But she made out with him? She made out with him and then it's also like, prove it. You just grabbed handcuffs? That doesn't mean you're the fucking cop. Yeah, you'd need to see a badge, A, but then also...

I'm not like the SWAT team coming in and shit. If I was him, I'd be like, but you were letting me cup your boob? How long does this steak out go on before you call it? Maybe she had a crush on him. She was into that murderer. She continues to say that she lured him back to her place to see if he was going to try to murder her. So naturally, after seeing he obviously wasn't going to murder her, she says he can go.

But the bold ass guy that my father is, he just says, well, I mean, I still really like you, so let's keep hanging out. Yes. They ended up dating for two months. Yes. Was she really a cop? Yes. It was real.

It was real. Oh. But they were still into each other. Right. But then... Okay, so that's why she was doing it. Yeah. She was into it.

She was like, stop my boo. I'm going to at least get a fucking minute of this. I work so hard. I work so hard. You deserve this, Peggy. Peggy, you deserve some me time. You know what? You're squirming away because you're thinking of your boss and the captain in your head.

But how about you give Peggy a little Peggy time? Yeah, Peggy deserves it. Okay, this is one of my dad's many extraordinary stories, but the best part is that he told this one for the first time three years ago on my mom's birthday at PF Changs. Yes. My mom was pissed. She had never heard it in their entire 30 year marriage and he decided to tell it now. Well she has her appropriately loud reactions.

He just chews his sesame chicken giggles and says, yeah, that guy killed like 80 people. What? That's not the right number, but okay. I love that on a quiet PF Changs summer night with my sweet 65 year old mother looking her best. My dad had the internal thought of, you know what, tonight's the night. I got to tell this fucking story. Thanks for entertaining me while I hang chandeliers during my work day.

Oh, well, I didn't realize. Come over in the exactly right studios and hang some chandeliers. Stay sexy and don't be a serial killer doppelganger. Kelsey from Richmond, Virginia. Yeah, Kelsey. Hey. I just kind of love that the mom is still after 30 years. It's still so fresh for her that she's going to fight for her man.

She's like sitting at PF Changs, fully pissed. You had a fucking history before you met me. I'm sorry. Are you telling me you made out with some girl? What the fuck? You dated someone for two months before you married me for 40 years? That story should have started. I'm sorry, Diane.

Yeah. Diane and Peggy, then Peggy comes in, Peggy's their waiter. Then Peggy's like, their waiter takes off his mask. It's Peggy. She arrests him. He is the green river killer. He turns out this whole time. Turns out there's been a terrible misunderstanding.

Well, that hasn't been a PF Changs run. It's just a girl sitting alone in her backyard. Wow, that has layers, layers, legs and layers. Looking for a better cooking routine? With meal planning, shopping and prepping handled, HelloFresh has you covered. HelloFresh makes home cooking easy and affordable so you can stay on track and on budget in the new year. HelloFresh meals are convenient, seasonal and delicious.

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It gives you everything, everything you need. So get up to 20 free meals with purchase plus free shipping on your first box at hellofresh.ca slash murder20 with code murder20. That's up to 20 free meals plus free shipping on your first box when you go to hellofresh.ca slash murder20 and use code murder20. Goodbye. That makes a person a murderer. Are they born to kill or are they made to kill?

I'm Candace DeLong and on my new podcast Killer Psyche Daily, I share a quick 10 minute rundown every weekday on the motivations and behaviors of the criminal masterminds, psychopaths and cold-blooded killers you hear about in the news. I have decades of experience as a psychiatric nurse, FBI agent and criminal profiler. On Killer Psyche Daily, I'll give you insight into cases like Ryan Grantham and the newly arrested Stockton serial killer. I'll also bring on expert guests to dive deeper into the details, share what it's like to work with a behavioral assessment unit at Quantico, answer some killer trivia and even

host virtual Q&As where I'll answer your burning questions. Hey Prime members, listen to the Amazon Music Exclusive Podcast Killer Psyche Daily in the Amazon Music app. Download the app today. The subject line of this email is, my best friend's dad was Mary Vincent's lawyer. Oh, holy shit. Come on. Hello MFM boss ladies, pod producing guru and plethora of pets.

Over the long weekend, my best friend came home to visit from New York. We met up in Orange County and I heard beige apologies all around and ended up having dinner with her parents at one of our favorite spots. I've always known her dad was a badass lawyer, but I've never really asked about his cases because I didn't want to sound too intrusive. While at dinner, he told us that he recently had a meeting to talk about one of his most high profile cases, a case where a young woman had her arms chopped off. I swear I must have looked like a crazy person in this tiny restaurant when I squealed, oh

my god, wasn't Mary Vincent. And indeed it was. I have chills right now. Her dad went on to tell me that he represented Mary pro bono throughout her case against her attacker and even went with Mary in front of Congress advocating for the no second chances for murderers, rapists or child molesters act of 1998. Amazing. I've never heard of that.

I have fucking chills. So I'm like, I'm saying I've never heard of that and I'm like, did I say it in my story? You might have. Amazing. Okay. Yeah. When we returned to their home after dinner, he showed me photos of him and Mary speaking before Congress and he told me about how Mary used to babysit my best friend and how

her sons and my best friend loved to play together as kids. Oh my god. I'm gonna cry. I'm still blown away by the fact that I have such a close connection with someone who knows Mary. It shows how small the world is, but it also puts things back into perspective that these horrific things happen to real people. And while it's so depressing, it's so important to highlight these awful things so that we

can try to prevent them from happening again in the future. As a 25-year-old Angelino, I have to thank you both from the bottom of my heart for confirming my love for true crime isn't weird, my neuroses are valid, and the constant reminder to lock my doors. All the best, Taylor. Taylor. Such a good email, Taylor. Oh, that was amazing.

Yeah. That's very cool. If you, Taylor, took a picture of the picture of Mary, or I bet Stephen could find one. I'd love to see a picture of Mary Vinson testifying before Congress. I would too. That's, I just, the fact that she did that so bad has to be unbelievable. Incredible. And what a great fucking law that should absolutely always be passed.

Yes. Fuck you. Murders, rapists, and chums, unless you're one of those three things, then no. It's a very special 100th episode here to tell you about my past. Oh my God, is that it? Or do you have one more? I have one more. You have one more.

Okay. Well, great. Let's do it then. Okay. This one's creepy. My stereo, typically creepy, uncle. This one had uncles lately. Uncle's all around.

Telling you they're fucking creeps. Sorry, uncle. Michael and Uncle Jean. I honestly believe we solicited for Uncle's story. I think you're right. Then that makes sense. We're still amazed by the response. Why does everyone keep writing about murder?

God. God, that's so weird. Hi, Karen, Georgia, Stephen, and Katz that can't understand me. I am the youngest in my family, so I was always babied. Whenever something dramatic with my family went down, I was, it was always talked about and whispered, so I've only found out about certain things now that I'm in my 30s. My brother recently told me something highly disturbing about my uncle, Mike. He said that one summer in the mid-90s, while he was helping him pack to move out of his

house after a messy divorce and cocaine addiction, fun, our uncle, Mike ran out to pick up pizza. My brother stayed behind by himself and continued packing. He came across a large trunk that was extremely heavy. He was curious, of course, so he popped it open. It was filled with a broom with VHS tapes. He said there had to be at least 100. They were all unlabeled and he couldn't resist seeing what this was about. It's like you're just asking.

Yeah, you're, this is, yep, you want to know bad news. He put the top one into the VHS player and hit play. He was dumbfounded when the image on the screen was the inside of a toilet. Looking outward, toward the user said, toilet, yep, a toilet cam. My uncle, Mike had a camera in the toilet of his house for years, apparently. I wouldn't call myself super tech savvy. I still have no idea how he pulled this off, but I have no doubt that he did. He was a highly paid defense attorney in our city and had his home remodeled and customized

many times. I can only imagine what kind of creepy-ass wiring system he had going on in there. I can only expect that his three daughters and son are on it, all guests and, of course, me. Today, I never answer my uncle's calls, even when one year he left a very sad voicemail around Christmas bemoaning the fact that he doesn't have much family left. It's true we don't. Much of our immediate family has passed, including my mother, his sister.

I moved two states away about 10 years ago and I have learned enough about life to accept that being related by blood isn't an obligation to keep toxic people in your life, especially when they have recorded fucking footage of you paying. That's hell fucking right on. That's amazing. You can come and check every toilet before you do your biz, Mary. It's super creepy and awful, but I do like that some people, like my father killed someone and it's this thing of like, that doesn't define you.

Not in the least. That's not about you at all. No. It doesn't make you a bad person. The relation isn't a connection. Yeah, and you can cut people out of your lives that are toxic. I'm just interested. Did that guy just shut that thing and then they were like, we just can't talk to that

uncle anymore? It sounds like it. Because it doesn't sound like they went to the police. It doesn't sound like it. I don't know what to do. I'm sure. Yeah. It's so awful.

It's so crazy. Whoo. Well, I'll lighten it up. Would you please? That's why I was like, do you have something lighter than? Yes. Yes. This is good.

The subject line is politically correct job title for Garbage Man. Hello, MFM Clan. Okay. So my dad has been a Garbage Man for almost 40 years. He some years ago said that his job title had officially changed. He is no longer a Garbage Man. He goes on to say in a booming but fancy voice. I am now an energy resource recovery field representative.

Wow. Oh, I said laughing. That's a mouthful. Can I just refer to you as a Garbage Man? And he smiles and goes, yeah, honey, we don't give a shit what you call us. Just don't forget us during the holidays. Over the years, he's been asked many times by the local police to salvage garbage retrieved at certain addresses.

One of which was the home of a boy that my teenage at the time sister hung out with. We don't know what they were searching for and we were never told, but he didn't want her hanging out with that boy anymore. I want to know. All right. Thanks for all those wonderful, thanks for all this wonderful podcast. Stay sexy. Don't get murdered.

Oh, and Garbage Man like cash, gift cards and booze duct tape to their garbage can. Can't wait to see you in Minneapolis in May. Take care. Candice. I love it. It's so good to know. Yes. You please remember if you are in the position to give gifts at Christmas, your male person

and your garbage man deserve gifts more than anybody. As someone who lives in an apartment building and it's like, you just, you never see them and you don't know if you have regular them all the time, like it's the same person every time. Yeah. You still do that? Yeah. I've never done it.

It's same here because it's a different male man every time, but one time I just opened the door and handed her a bottle of booze, the one I see the most. Okay. That makes sense. You know what I mean? It's not like you have to have a personal relationship or whatever, but it's nice for the people that kind of haul ass around for your benefit if you have the ability to give them a tip.

It's nice. I've never tipped my, I'm not saying that. Yeah. Yeah. I've never tipped the garbage man. I've never even thought of it. No, me neither. That's so smart.

Like I'd be like, how do you do it? You fucking duct tape it to the goddamn trash can. You get a bottle of Jack Daniels duct tape it to the top of that garbage can and then stand in your front window and watch it and make sure your local teens don't fucking steal it and you get arrested for providing teens with fucking alcohol. With their party bottle. All right. That's it.

Yeah. Send us your emails. My favorite murder at Gmail. Thank you for listening to a hundred fucking episodes. Thank you for providing the content of a hundred fucking episodes. We love doing many. We love it. We love telling your stories.

Thank you for playing along with us and stay sexy. And don't get murdered. Goodbye. Elvis. One cookie. Two cookies��s. One cookie. One cookie.

I don't even know what it is. I have no idea. Look at this. Look at this. A cookie.