My Favorite Murder with Karen Kilgariff and Georgia Hardstark - MFM Minisode 136

Episode Date: August 19, 2019

This week’s hometowns include serial killer connections and an acid trip discovery.See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

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. That's a new dawn. It's a new day. Hello! And welcome to my favorite murder, Minya Soad. Where we read you your shit back to you. You guys have stories. You send them to us. We read them to you. We just told you. Yeah, you know how it goes. We like to explain it. Sometimes people forget and we've been on vacation for so long. Truly a very long time. That's right. We took a break. We took a break. It was a break.

Yeah, and we're back. It's refreshing. Yeah. But how are you feeling about it? Different? Oh, I forgot like what it's like to stress about what murder I'm going to do next week. Yeah. I forgot how much I stress about it. Right. So I think I'm going to try to get a few in the can like planned out already. Yeah, I feel like that's how other people do. They're planned and produced podcasts. Not day of frantic research and writing. Look, we've always done it the way we had to do it. Yeah. But now we have the room and time to do it a different new way. But we won't because we're not those kinds of women.

Well, yeah, that's the thing is if I got my homework done like before Sunday night at 9pm, I would have gone to college and been doing. Right. Been doing something. And then either way, I'd be questioning myself like, should I even do this one? Is this one okay? I don't know if I like this one. A part of I think part of what it is is just backing it right up to the deadline so that we just have to do it. And to know when to stop because I could research for fucking days and like there's always new shit to read about it. So yeah. So like I have to stop by 2pm or I'm going to come here looking disgusting. That's a nice thing to have. Okay. But this isn't that.

This is where we don't have to do any fucking homework. This is the easy podcast. We love this part. Where you do our homework for us and we just get to have fun with it. And I get to do the thing that I've loved since I was seven years old reading aloud. Well, you go ahead and do that. Thank you. Right now. So here we go. I'm not going to read this subject line because it gives it away even

though it's witty. Okay. I'll read it after. Okay. So it starts, hello all. I loved seeing you at the Seattle show way back in October when Karen covered the Green River Killer. I knew that I'd write my story in immediately. Yeah. I don't know if they meant to do that on purpose, but that's really funny. In immediately. In immediately.

And yet here I am in August because I'm a world class procrastinator. Hey, interesting. You're welcome. We were just talking about you. I remember my mom telling me this story as a kid. And then again in 2001, when Gary, of course, he wore those wire rim classic serial killer glasses Ridgeway's face that was all hyphenated. I love it. Was plastered all over the news in her early adult days.

My mom was a forester at a smallish timber company. She mostly sold firewood permits and other permits for accessing the private timber lands. Okay. Like two hunters and foragers. Got it. What does a forager look like rolling up on that? Oh, he's got all that. He smells like mushrooms.

He's got a pig, a mushroom truffle pig with him on a leash. A pet truffle pig. Uh-huh. He's just here to do some foraging, ma'am. Yeah. Okay. She womaned to the gates of different access roads along the Green River, tucked up in the Cascade foothills.

In July of 83, she was nine months pregnant with my sister selling firewood cutting permits out of her company truck to folks all day alone. No, no, no. Except when the occasional person came to cut wood. Cut to one particularly sweltering day when all of a sudden every hair on her body stood on end and she had a chill run through her like that someone is watching me feeling. She looked around, called out, hello, is anyone there? Several times.

Should I act it out? Do it. Hello? Is anyone there? No, but being nine months pregnant when you do it. Oh, hello? Is anyone there? I would imagine.

Yeah, I could have read. Several times before hopping in the truck and locking all the doors, but had to stay put to lock the gate once everyone was out at dusk. No, no. So she just had to stay. A few days later, she's telling a friend about her recent experience and the friend goes, you know, they found a body like 200 yards from that gate, right? It was, of course, one of Gary Ridgway's victims.

When they caught him and his face was all over the news, she swore she'd seen him before and specifically recalled that hot day locked in her truck. She thinks the feeling is from one of two reasons. He was either there stashing or visiting one of his victims, which he did often. That was my editorial. Or it was the spirit of the woman he'd murdered, insert spooky woo sounds. Either way, she's nearly certain they cross paths at some point since they ended up finding a few bodies in that specific area,

and she was the main permit seller during that time. Holy shit. My mom is for sure a murderer, even if she doesn't know it. And because of her, I know how to SSDGM and always listen to that weird gut feeling, telling me something is not quite right. Yay. Things I'm working to pass on to my two little girls, as well as the ability to fuck politeness in an age appropriate way, of course.

Thank you, ladies for being you. Stay sexy and don't sell a body stashing permit to a serial killer, Megan. And that was her. The subject line was that time my mom sold a body stashing permit to the Green River Killer, probably. That's a good one. Yeah. Okay, this one I found when I was researching my topic from last week, Jacob Wetterling.

And I just, it just feels like us. It feels like home because it's terrible. Yes. Hello, Georgia and Karen. A couple years ago, I was flying home from Houston to Minneapolis, and as I boarded the plane, I spotted the amazing Senator Elizabeth Warren sitting only a couple rows behind me. In coach, no less.

Yes, she, of course she is. Hold on. I spent the whole flight trying to come up with a classy way to say hello and gush about how fantastic she is, but the opportunity didn't present itself until we landed in Minneapolis. And then blah, blah, blah, they're waiting for the luggage. I stood right next to her in the jetway and waited a minute before finally saying, I just want to let you know that I am such a fan.

And as the words came out, I realized, holy fucking shit, this is not Elizabeth Warren. This is Patty Wetterling. Oh my God. Jacob Wetterling's mom. Oh my God. His case was this big, unsolved, gaping wound in the heart of Minnesota for 27 years. Kids and even grownups were no longer allowed to go anywhere without an adult,

and everyone started locking their doors at night. The loss this family experienced was experienced to a lesser degree by every Minnesotian, Minnesotan. And Patty Wetterling came to represent everyone's mom. Yes. So there I was, standing in front of our state's most beloved grieving mother, telling her that I was a fan. And then it says, of what, her horrible tragedy?

Yeah, really, her, oh my God. Luckily, and very uncharacteristically, I was able to pivot from, I just want to let you know that I'm such a huge fan with, after a weird pause, of the child advocacy work you've been doing. Nice. Yeah. She was very friendly and we chatted for less than a minute before she got her bag, but holy shit.

Sincerely, Ursula. I mean, can you? But here, okay, here's why I love that so much. First of all, I really do love any kind of, here's how I made it full of myself. Oh yeah. Because I do it all the time. We have plenty. It makes me feel better.

But also, I love that because that's how much these stories about other people's horrors come into your life, even if you don't know those people, even if you don't live in the same state, you do look at those people's faces. You know, you feel like you know them. You put, you feel the feeling, you know, you put yourself in that position, you do sit with it in a real way. So it's so believable. You know what I mean?

It's so like understandable. But then they like mix up. And like, you know, she probably didn't have a lot of friends she could tell this to that would like laugh about it. No, no. So I feel like we gave it a home that it needed. Also, but here's the other thing. The energy that you would love both of those women with is very similar.

It's true. You know what I mean? Yeah. They're heroes. You're like, I, you don't know me, but I want to hug you. Yes. Energy. And you, and you've done, you don't understand what you're doing for everybody.

Yeah. Yeah. I love both of those women. Me too. I love all three. Yeah. Including the one who wrote it. Ursula, the sea witch.

What if the sea witch wrote us an email? Oh, I'm sorry. I hated on you when I was eight. I've always been a fan. Okay. This subject line says, my grandpa caught son of Sam sort of. Okay. Okay.

Hi, Elvis. Joy. So much joy. And then parentheses and everyone else, but mostly Elvis. Oh, I love you. Love you and the show. Hope the book tour is going great. Now let's do this hometown thing.

Okay. My grandpa, who I love very much. Oh, sorry. Who I love very, very much, despite never having met him, was a psychologist working at Bellevue Hospital in New York City. Actually, he was a pretty impressive dude. He started the Torture Victims Unit at that hospital, which helps asylum seekers who have been subject to persecution

for peaceful political or social activities are suffering because of their ethnicity, religion, gender, or sexual orientation have been subjected to war trauma or forced from conflict torn communities. Needless to say about us. Oh my God. He had some pretty incredible stories from his time as a shrink, both in and out of the Torture Victims Unit. Some are completely heartwarming, some unbelievably strange,

and I'll break doctor privilege, doctor patient confidentiality. Yes. My favorite of those include the time he spent at Attica as a consulting psychologist to work with Mark David Chapman. Unfortunately, these have all been passed down to me through my mom. So many of the details of these stories have been lost, but it's still really fun to whip out. My grandpa was Mark David Chapman shrink at parties, of course.

The real story I'm here to tell you is the one of one of my papa's. However, it isn't about his patient. One day in the summer of 1977, it admits the panic of the son of Sam Killings. My grandpa is on his way to work at Bellevue Hospital in New York City. He has a young daughter, my mom, who just turned eight, who is picked up on the murders herself and sometimes comes into his office at night

to ask about the scary killing man, a direct quote from my mom's retelling of the story. I guess I know where I get it from. That morning, as he rides the bus, he reads the paper Rich was running a large police sketch of Son of Sam. He looks up. Across from him is a man who looks, he thinks, exactly like the sketch. He has a small mouth, expressive eyebrows, and close together eyes.

My grandpa came into work, told his colleagues that he was almost certain he had seen the son of Sam. He was met with laughter and assurances that it probably wasn't him because all the shootings were in the Bronx and outer boroughs. My grandma said the same thing when he told her at home. He was convinced and decided not to bring in the tip to the police. A few weeks later, the news of the arrest and confessions

of Son of Sam made the papers. My grandpa saw the picture and realized that the man on the bus had been the scary killing man himself, David Berkowitz. When he went to consult at Attica with Mark David Chapman, he never saw David Berkowitz, apparently bragged to friends that he basically could have caught the son of Sam, but no one believed him. Thank you for everything you do with your scary killing podcast.

It's made me make so many amazing friends. The number of times I've sat down to eat lunch with my friend Max and said, okay, I heard a really cool murder, must be in the thousands by now. Congrats on the book. I love you all very much, Christopher. Nice. Nice. Good.

Don't ever listen to your friends. It's not the killer. It's, of course, it's not. Yes, you're riding the bus with a killer. Sir, you're highly qualified psychologist at Bellevue Hospital. You don't even trust your gut? You're the one that knows best. Trust your gut.

I do love that hearing that story, though. That's very cool to hear about a nice story about somebody who, like, put in time working at Bellevue, which is intense. Did you ever see that there was an HBO made for HBO documentary about, like, 48 hours at Bellevue or whatever? Oh, no. Is it old? It's from, yes. It's from, like, the late 90s, I think, or early 2000s. Was it the really depressing one?

It's so good. Well, it's, I mean, a lot of stuff happens. Yeah. A lot of stuff happens. But it's just mind-blowing, like, the work those doctors do and those nurses do. It's so cool. Amazing. Well, that's what your mom did, too. That's right. That's amazing.

Until she had to stop because someone broke a chair over her back. Jesus. They would never tell us. I would ask constantly, but can I just get the story behind? Was she laid up and shit? No. I mean, she had to go. But my parents were so good at keeping everything from us. So I know she went to physical therapy and stuff,

but she didn't, like, it didn't injure her so that she was laid up. Looking for a better cooking routine? With meal planning, shopping, and prepping handled, Hello Fresh has you covered. Hello Fresh makes home cooking easy and affordable, so you can stay on track and on budget in the new year. Hello Fresh meals are convenient, seasonal, and delicious. Stay cozy all winter long with classic comfort foods available weekly.

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And we're the hosts of Wondery's podcast Even the Rich, where we bring you absolutely true and absolutely shocking stories about the most famous families and biggest celebrities the world has ever seen. Our newest series is all about the incomparable diva, Whitney Houston. Whitney's voice defined a generation, and even after her death, her talent remains unmatched. But her incredible success hit a deeply private pain. In our series, Whitney Houston, Destiny of a Diva,

we'll tell you how she hid her true self to make everyone around her happy and how the pressure to be all things to all people led her down a dark path. Follow Even the Rich wherever you get your podcasts. You can listen ad free on the Amazon Music or Wondery app. All right, this is called butterflies near kidnapping and white hot rage. Hello all. Listen to this wild story of the day I was nearly kidnapped and not coincidentally was the day my mom nearly murdered someone in the parking lot.

Whoa. Okay, so I was nearly eight years old and I was at my brother's soccer game, which my mom and I regularly attended. I'm an artist, so naturally I knew sports weren't my thing and still aren't, so I got bored and wandered off. I found an open field nearby and began chasing small white butterflies. When suddenly a tall man with a beard and a woman, presumably his wife, approached me.

The man asked if I like butterflies, which of course my eight-year-old self was like, who the fuck doesn't like butterflies? But I politely and excitedly told the man yes. He then proceeded to tell me that he had a rare butterfly in his van. No. I, of course, not knowing the horrible reality of situations like this, started following the man and the woman into the parking lot. We only got a few steps into the lot when I heard a loud booming voice.

The loud booming voice was, you guessed it, my five-foot-two hot-headed Italian mother running towards us at full speed screaming, I will kill you, motherfucker. At the top of her lungs. No explanation needed when she noticed me walking towards the parking lot with a strange couple. It was all action. Asked questions later.

Yes. Side note, my mom has two speeds, slow and stopped. Seeing her run meant shit was really hitting the fan. Anyways, fearful of my mom's white-hot rage, the couple immediately fled into their van, sped off, and were never seen again. Needless to say, my mother nearly killed a man in a parking lot with her bare hands and also never let me wander off to chase butterflies again. My mother is my absolute hero and lifelong best friend.

She is a single mom and was a nurse at the Cincinnati Children's Hospital for 30 years, 10 of which were working in the ER and has seen a lot of shit. She was always vigilant and taught us to be cautious of our surroundings and the down and dirty ways to defend yourself, aka grab and twist where it hurts. If you ever read the story on your podcast, I just want it to be known that my mom is the bravest, most brazen woman ever. I hope to become at least half as badass as she is. Thank you for your amazing podcast, SSDGM, Amanda.

Amanda, what's your mom's name? Oh my god, seriously. Amanda, you need to write in stat and tell us your mom's full fucking name so we can give her cred, unless... Maybe she doesn't. Maybe she killed someone with her hands. She's like anonymity. Maybe she's a known felon.

Seriously, the fact that a woman did that, it sounds like it was a while ago. Yeah, probably 90s. Yeah. Exactly. That she did the smartest, best, most clearly, most perfect thing. Fuckin' ask questions later. Just start screaming. I will kill you, motherfucker.

And those fuckers, if they had good intentions, they wouldn't have sped off her in a way. No, they wouldn't have been like, sorry, what? No, no, no, oh, whatever. No, we're just talking to this child and taking her to a van. The word van makes it all very clear what's happening. God bless it. Yeah, you don't hesitate in that. I mean, that's stuff moms know.

You could see, yeah. Moms know that. But now we all get to talk about what moms know. Yeah. Now we can arm ourselves with mom knowledge. Yeah, you need mom knowledge when you're eight years old. Yeah. Don't wait.

Tell your kid now. Yeah, especially because you're like, well, mom's always pretty chill and doesn't yell and stuff. So this one time when she freaks out, there's a reason. And then you'll take her seriously. And it's that you were walking with strangers to a van, which you didn't know was the right thing to do. But now you fucking know. That's right. Right. Maybe along those lines with like, adults don't need kids' help.

The other message that should go out is people don't keep animals in cars and vans. They're doing it. Steven just choked. Sorry, Steven. Steven's like, wait, Penny's in my car right now. What are you talking about? Steven, you're a pervert. Seriously.

You know, there's no butterfly in a van. There's never been a butterfly in a van. There's one, what's that called, the bug people going. Anemologists. There's one that I'm all just going, well, I keep mine in my van. It's not that weird. When we started the Monarch migration. Okay, you're right.

We're wrong. Now, would you please send us, if you have a picture of a custom van from the 70s with a butterfly like air painted on the side, what do they call that? Like brush, airbrushed on the side. Do you airbrushed? Yes. That was great. Thank you.

I mean, I didn't do anything. I really love it. It was all Amanda. But you'll get a chance to do it one day. Thank you. Amanda, tell us what your mom's name is. Yeah. Okay.

I'm going to go with Marie. Yeah, because she's Italian? Yeah. Yeah. Okay. I mean, I always think the classic mom name is Judy. Judy. It's just the classic mom name.

Linda. Okay. Linda's good. Carol with an E. Okay. The subject line of this one is finding a body while on acid. Oh, however, we have to, I'm not in this. Okay.

I don't have another one. You don't? No. Did you? Okay. Do it. Greetings, ladies, gent and domesticated animals. Jumping right in.

God bless your soul. Yeah. I grew up in Portland, Oregon, spent much of my youth outdoors and on acid. On one late night, high school excursion after taking acid with my best friend and our boyfriends. Guys, really quick. Don't do drugs. Don't do drugs.

We're not laughing at doing drugs. It's clearly. We don't think doing drugs is fun. It's. We think you having a past life of being a fucking idiot is hilarious. Here's the thing. If you're okay now. Yeah.

You get to get through it and then tell the story after. Yes. But don't do the thing of like, now this is my great idea because it isn't, it isn't, it isn't. Right. Anyhow. Hang on. Now that we've gotten that disclaimer. Okay.

On one late night, high school excursion after taking acid with my best friend and our boyfriends. Let's call them Tina, John and Will. We decided to go to Washington Park for our trip, quote unquote. While walking a trail leading up to the Portland Rose Garden, the guys decided to run ahead, leaving Tina and I to follow at our leisure. After a few minutes, John ran back to us out of breath and panicking. He whisper yells that they found a dead guy.

Now we're all just about peeking on our acid trip and we thought the guys were just fucking with us. Tina and I hurried up the trail expecting to find Will pretending to be dead or to jump out and scare us on the path. We came to a clearing that opens up to the backside of the Rose Gardens and we see a man on his back laying on the grass at the bottom of a long set of stone stairs. I look at my highest fuck friends and ask, did anyone check to see if he's alive? They all look at me like I'm crazy saying he must just be a homeless man sleeping.

But I notice he is well-dressed and his body is twisted in a very unnatural way. So I walk over to him while my friends just watch. As I approach, the stench of alcohol and vomit was so overwhelming I nearly turned back, but then I saw him cough. Oh my god! Thinking to myself that he must be choking on his vomit, that's how many of my favorite musicians died. This person's cool.

And every drummer from Spinal Tap. This person's the coolest. I know I have to turn him on his side so his esophagus can clear. Closer now, I see his skin is pale and pasty and he is covered in vomit. I pull him to his side. He's still coughing. I yell to my friends to call 911. Okay, so this wasn't the 70s because there was 911.

Mind you, this is back before cell phones. Okay. Why do I do that? 90s. Mind you, this is back before cell phones and we have to find a pay phone and we are out past curfew and we're tripping balls. So my friends are hesitant to call the police. And just then, as if the gods were watching, the star quarterback of my high school football

team walks around the corner with his girlfriend. What are you talking about? This is like only on acid. Only when you're on acid do things like this happen. They drove up to the Rose Gardens on a date. I fill him in and I ask him to find the phone and he drives off to do so. Minutes later, the police come and shortly after an ambulance. We watched as the paramedics tended to the man and noticed that they took their time

loading him into the ambulance and taking him away. After answering a few questions, they informed me he was already dead. What? Thank us for helping and let us all go. Now, there is nothing like finding a body and being questioned by the police to make one sober up real quick. We continued our park adventure, talked about mortality, and making the most of our young lives, such as young people do.

A few days later, I saw a story about him in the paper. He was a 50-something-year-old man who had battled alcoholism his whole life, fell down the Rose Garden stairs completely blotto, broke his back, and suffocated on his vomit. I can't say that was the last time I took acid. Oh, my God. I can't say that was the last time I took acid, but I never have been much of a drinker.

Wonder if this is why. Thank you for... Okay, I'm baffled because they said he coughed. Yeah, but between them and the night... And then the people coming, he must have passed. Oh, or he was... She was... This person was so high that they didn't really know what was going on.

Thank you for many hours of murdery entertainment. I work as a medical laboratory technician. You allow me to plug in my earbuds and ignore my co-workers for this. I'm eternally grateful. Stay sexy and don't choke on your vomit. Cheers. Oh, my... There's no name.

Okay, whoever wrote this, now we're starting like chain letter. Tell us your name. This is going to be the third podcast we start, which is like the sidebars of all of these. You don't have to tell us your name clearly you don't want to, but please explain how you saw the man cough and then the already did. Like what happened? Maybe some...

Maybe an EMT out there can let us know. Yes. Like the story behind... Or is it that thing of like when a corpse... Like something happens and a corpse sits up or whatever and everyone freaks out? That was crazy. Maybe I should do one more. Do it.

Okay. That was ups, downs, everywhere, all over the place. Okay. Let's do... Okay. I'm going to do... I'm going to do one more. Peeping Tom versus The Mountain Man.

Oh. Hi, Georgia, Karen and company. During the summer between my freshman and sophomore year of college, I was living at home in a rural area of Oregon. One weekend I drove to Portland to visit a friend from school on a Monday and I drove four hours back home. It was the late 80s, so I was driving my VW square back with no AC and probably AM radio. Needless to say, after hours of driving in the heat, I was super tired and sweaty.

So when I got home, I basically walked into the house and jumped straight into the shower. No one was home at the time. In the shower, I started washing my hair and whatnot. And when I turned to look out the window, our shower had a small window in it about shoulder height that looked into our fenced backyard. I saw a face. Initially, I thought it was my own reflection, but after a brief moment, I realized that no, that's not me.

That's some fucking pervert. I screamed, jumped out of the shower, grabbed a towel and ran to the living room. At almost the exact moment this went down, my dad happened to walk through the front door from work. I was running through the house like a crazy person, screaming and trying to tell him what had just happened. Somehow, I was able to communicate to him that there was a person looking in the bathroom window and he jumped into action.

An important side note here. My dad was really into mountain men, reenactments. Look it up. And it had a selection of black powder rifles and the like proudly displayed in our living room. He really did think he was Grizzly Adams. Oh, okay. Okay.

So he grabbed the fiercest-looking weapon of the bunch and hightailed it out the back door. Meanwhile, the pervert was making his getaway. He had jumped the back fence and was running through the trees bordering our property when my dad yelled for him to get his ass back over the fence or he was going to shoot. Another important side note, the gun wasn't loaded. Surprisingly, the guy took this seriously and backtracked with his hands in the air.

Meanwhile, I was on the phone to the police. My dad had the guy lay face down on our deck while we waited for the police and I got dressed and was kind of watching all of this from a distance. When the police arrived, they took a statement and arrested the guy. Once he was at the station, they questioned him and he fessed up to stalking my sister. He had been calling the house and hanging up for most of the year I was away at college. Oh, shit. And also told the cops that he'd been spying on our house for quite some time.

They even found some video recording equipment and a gun and other things stashed under our house. Holy fuck. It was super creepy. Sadly, the guy was never charged slash convicted because when the arresting officer, police officers took him and they failed to properly read him his Miranda rights and his lawyer was able to get him off on this technicality.

And to prove that no good deed goes unpunished, when the local newspaper reported the incident in the police blotter, it said my dad was the peeping Tom. Oh, no. What the fuck? At least we have something to laugh about. Stay sexy and don't bathe in showers with the window, Rachel. Oh, God.

Insult. Meet injuries. Yeah, for real. Dude. That's horrifying. Oh, Steven's got the Mountain Man reenactment. No, it looks like they're just like World War I reenactors, but for Mountain Men? It looks like they're like the Ori...

You mean Civil War. That's what did I say? World War I? No, not that one. Different outfit. Not that one. No, yeah, this is like, yeah. It's basically like, oh, that arrow.

Mountain Men. Mountain Men reenactors. It looks like a new series on the History Channel. It looks like an old series on the History Channel. Like it's been around forever and we just don't know about it. Amazing. Guys, send us any kind of story. Send them to us.

God, those ones. I mean, clearly Portland-based activities really work out great. And a lot of mom stuff. Yeah. Send them to my favorite murder at Gmail or you can submit them on our website, myfavoritermurder.com. And stay sexy. And don't get murdered.

Goodbye. Elvis, want a cookie?