My Favorite Murder with Karen Kilgariff and Georgia Hardstark - MFM Minisode 161

Episode Date: February 10, 2020

This week’s hometowns include family murders and a ‘haunted’ hamburger.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. Hello and welcome to my favorite murder, the mini-soad, where we read you things that you've written to us. Isn't it fun listening to reading? It's one of the better things to do in this world. No more when you're a little kid and you couldn't read. Oh, it was a mystery what those letters meant all smashed together. That's right. Well, we're your moms and we're going to read you horrible bedtime stories. Sit down. Stop squirming. Sit down. Stop hitting your brother. Lips

together something apart. That can't be right. No, it can't be right. Brain open. Receive it. Believe it. Take our love. I love you God damn it. Okay, should I start it? Yeah, go for it. Okay. Hello, cats, dogs, people. Great. In the mid-2000s, I was a bartender at a pretty sleazy gentleman's club in northern Kentucky. Hell, yeah, you were. Can you smell it? Can you smell the menthol cigarettes in the air? Right across the river from Cincinnati. Money was great. I was in my 20s and I have many crazy stories to share. Here's one. Hell, yeah. Most of the dancers used cabs to get to and from work. This was in the ages before Uber. At the end of the night, some cabs would be lined up out front waiting for the ladies to get off work. A young lady

in her mid-20s will call her Selena. I don't know her real name. Got into one of the cabs to head home for the night, just like she did every other night. This night was extremely cold, even for Midwest standards. Snow and ice on the ground, negative temps freezing. During the ride, the driver pulled off the road to, quote, go a different way to avoid bad roads. He then pulled over and attacked her. He beat her, sexually assaulted her, slit her throat with a screwdriver and dumped her on the side of a rural road. Oh, my God. This badass woke up in a ditch and crawled to a house about half a mile away to get help. Holy shit. Thankfully at 4 a.m., some kind person answered the door and called 911. The doctor said the bitter cold saved her life because she was lying,

knocked out in that snowy ditch. The blood and the wound froze, saving her from bleeding to death. Oh, my God. They did catch the driver and he went to prison for rape and attempted murder. It turns out he was a convicted rapist who'd only been out of prison for a year. Holy, wherever you are, Selena, I hope you're living your best life. Wow. That's from no name. Oh, I've chilled. Isn't that incredible? That is incredible. Unbelievable. Wow. Way to start the show. Boom. There. There. Now go to bed. This one's called My Aunt the Black Widow. Okay. Yes. This starts. Hi, people and pets. Okay. There we go. First, I want to say that my boyfriend got me hooked on MFM. The best part is his name is Steven, so now naturally I address him as

Steven. Anyway, my hometown murder involves none other than my own aunt in Sweet Home, Alabama. I know that Georgia loves a good Black Widow story. Do I or is that you? It's me. It's definitely you. So here we... Many people still don't know the difference between you and I. That's true. Hi, I'm Georgia. I'm reading the story right now. Hi, I'm Karen and I have almost the same voice. That's right. That's too bad. Deal with it. So here we go. My aunt, 53 at the time, was dating 54-year-old Cecil for around five years. They were married for only six months before Cecil passed away. On May 5th, 2001, Cecil died on the kitchen floor of their home. My aunt came home from shopping, found him and called 911. The coroner stated that Cecil died of a heart attack.

My aunt insisted that he be cremated, always a fucking bad sign, but his adult daughter said, fuck no, and he was buried instead. Later, his daughter discovered that his will had been changed. Turns out my aunt had forged his will and life insurance policy only a few days before his death to leave her with all his dollars. Very suspect. Will not hold up and commit. No, your own aunt. Your own aunt. Cecil ended up being exhumed and an autopsy discovered a lethal concoction of 25 to 30 pills in his system. Jesus. Supposedly my aunt drugged him later out of there and left him to die. God damn peach, am I right? So my aunt went to trial. It was all over the local news and she was called the black widow. In 2003, my aunt was found guilty of capital murder and sentenced to life

in prison plus two 20-year sentences for forgery and theft. Wow. Ready for some twists and turns? Yes. After countless appeals funded by my mother, stating the prosecution failed to establish a sufficient chain of custody for samples extracted from Cecil's body and that evidence was improperly presented at her trial, she was awaiting a second trial when she pleaded guilty to manslaughter in 2013. By this time, my aunt had been behind bars for around 12 years. She was to be released from prison in 2021, but she's actually been out for a few years now. Whoa. I assume she's on parole because she couldn't travel to Tennessee with my mom recently. But unfortunately, they don't talk about these super interesting things. And then it says, I roll. Other than that, she's remarried

and living a seemingly normal life now as a 65-year-old grandmother. Shit. I'm still sad over the loss of Cecil and about the trauma his family endured. I was around 12 years old at the start of this shit, so I guess you can say I have my sweet aunt to thank for my premature anxiety and my murdering interests. Anyway, thank you for being my daily entertainment and for giving my boyfriend and me endless conversations, puns, and laughs. We love y'all. Stay sexy and don't let your aunt near the medicine cabinet, Whitney. Whitney, Jesus. Yeah. I mean, inter-family, like, that's tough. Yeah. And I'm sure that mom, it being her sister, was like, there's no way. And we don't fucking talk about this. And we don't talk about it, but oh my God, if you change the

will. Yeah. And there was 25 to 30 pills in a system. Demanding next day cremation. Yeah. You're not actually doing yourself any favors. No. And the whole chain of custody thing, that's so interesting. You know, like. That's basically getting her off on a technicality. Totally. Totally. Entirely. Totally. Totally. And completely. Totally and completely. And completely. Grandma, tell us about the time you got off on a technicality of murdering your husband. Well, I think this is a good area to go into, because mine actually kind of goes with this a little bit. But we're basically going into the breaking down the husband did it mentality. Oh, shit. Okay. Hello, MFM crew. I wanted to tell you all the story of why my

family believes my grandmother killed three men in her lifetime. Let me start this off with the fact that my grandmother is the sweetest old woman you can find. Question mark. That's I editorializing. I put that in. And I love her dearly, but she's a badass, which makes these murders believable. Oh, my God. Murder one. Back in the early 80s, my aunt was sexually assaulted when she was 15 years old on the way home from school. The police caught the dude after only one week of him being on the run. The man went to trial and all charges were dropped. As the story is told, my grandmother went to a pay phone called her ex-boyfriend Randy, and the man was never seen again. Randy. Randy. May we all have an ex-boyfriend named Randy.

We can call on a pay phone when things get dark. Amen. Amen. Murder two. This one involves the same aunt. When my aunt was in her late 20s, she had four children with her abuse of husband. Her husband at the time was also a heavy use user of drugs and commonly come home and beat the snot out of my aunt. One night, my aunt showed up at my grandmother's house with a fresh black eye and all of her kids with the fear that her husband was going to kill her. My grandmother set them all up for bed, then took a trip to my aunt's house to pick up something. All caps. Well, the next morning, he was found dead in their house with a needle in his arm. Interesting. Shut up. Murder number three. My grandmother got married in her mid 40s to an alcoholic and he threatened to kill her a few

times. Finally, after about 10 years, they separated and about a month later, he died of liver failure after my grandmother went to his house to pick up something. Oh, my God. This woman is a black widow for sure. This woman is a straight worker. There's no such person as Randy. There's no Randy. Yeah, there's no Randy. She's like, no, I just have to go pick up the idea of going to pick up something as a euphemism for straight up murder. My grandmother is now 77 and lives with the family and is an OG murdering. I bet. I hope so. It's in my genes. I work as an EMT and see some crazy stuff. So during my downtime, I love listening to your podcast because it helps me de-stress. Thanks, you guys, for all you do, Sean. Sean. Sean. Lock your door at night. Sean, your grandmother's

a legend. I mean, this is absolutely the double standard that we are totally guilty of, which is, but it's the thing of vigilante is when it comes to abuse of men. Yeah. Cause we all know they get out of jail. They get off. They never get arrested. Right. They don't want to report it because he's high up in the, whatever the fuck. In the whatever the fuck. But, you know, yeah, it's hard. We take it more lightly because women aren't as scary and so it is. Yeah. Let's fix the system and then everything can be fair. Yes. And just then, until then, sometimes you got to call Randy. That's just unbelievable. Yeah. It's just, after a while, I'm sure there's a lot of people who are like, yeah, let's not go near that family whatsoever. Cause she might have come and pick

up some things. She's coming over the second she is like, can I just come over and pick up a couple things? Peeling out. 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. Why stop with just dinner? Now you can enjoy Hello. Fresh's expanded menu of quick lunch solutions, weekend brunch, simple side dishes and amazing desserts. Karen January is going to be my month for Hello. Fresh. I am so sick of takeout. I miss cooking so much. I haven't lifted a knife

or a pan since like early fall. So I can't wait to get back in the kitchen and Hello. Fresh makes it so easy and also makes it so that my food tastes good, which is hard to do on my own. 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. Hey, I'm Arisha and I'm Brooke and we're the hosts of Wanderer'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 will tell you how she hit 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. This one's called The Haunted Hamburger. Great. This is, okay, here we go. I'm obsessed with these kinds of stories. Okay. A big hello to all my favorite people and pets. What the fuck? I think people are adjusting their game with the

fur babies thing. I appreciate it. Although some people double down. I respect it. Yeah, I think they're looking for alternates and I love the creativity. Keep it coming. Here's a quick story dating back over 40 years now. Back in the late 70s, my mom was growing up alongside six other children in Miami with the kind of hard Irish father who never said, I love you and made them share every single thing they owned. Fuck. It was definitely one of those childhoods that left everlasting effects on every one of those kids. To escape their small crowded house, they spent their time playing outside, stealing weed from their friend's parents and wandering around the neighborhoods as the local bicycle gang. Sure. I love it. One of the many

long days spent outside, my uncle Eddie was playing football with a bunch of kids in his cousin's front yard. The brick house was located at the end of the street. There was a corner turn crowded with bushes just a few yards away. One of the kids threw the ball a little too far and ended up flying straight into the deep brush of the corner. Eddie, being the closest, gave a quick jog over to the area and began making his way through the branches. The other kids heard him scream. Somehow hidden deep in the back corner of the turn, a mangled car lay upside down. Holy shit. It had flipped and plowed straight into the back light pole, but remained covered by the brush. The windows were broken. My uncle saw a decomposed man's body upside down in the driver's

seat. Oh my God. His hand was sprawled out of the open window and he had, you guessed it, a half eaten hamburger in his hand. What? Eddie ran out and after all the boys had their chance to stare, they called the police. They say that the man must have been speeding or drunk at night and hadn't seen the corner turn in time. I'm still unsure how no one had heard the noise. Either way, it's safe to say my uncle didn't eat hamburgers for a while after that. I bet. The incident was just another mark on his childhood and is something he just can't quite forget, which is why I'm pretty sure he's a hot dog person now. Thanks for keeping me sane throughout the long hours of my office job. Stay sexy and wait till you get home to

eat that hamburger, Jackie. For real. Those stories of like, you know, that one recent, like the Google, the Google Earth image that showed that there was a car submerged in like a, like a town's local lake and it was a guy who went missing for like 25 years or whatever. Yes. Those are, are fascinated by those stories. I feel like that was a woman that was submerged in that car. I think so. We should actually look it up and talk about it on our show because that is a crazy one. Whenever there's stories of people going missing after they were like on their way somewhere, half the time I'm like, they might have just fallen asleep at the wheel and veered off the road into a fucking ditch. Because if no one's around to hear it, like in, on that situation,

like I would just, the first thing I thought of is like, was it the time of year where people were on vacation? Right. Or they heard it and then they looked outside and didn't see anything. Yeah. They were like, oh, I guess a car crashed and then drove away. Ertson. Right. No, that's intense. And like little kids just being like, where's the ball of? Yeah. Also, by the time you got to that part when you were like, you guessed it, an uneaten hamburger, I was like, what? Like, I'd forgotten. The hamburger parts are weird little timid, but like it's there. It is there. All right. Here's my last one. Hi friends. Hi. Right. Back in 2014, I was recently divorced and living on my own for the first time in my life at 27 years old. I got married in college.

Do not recommend. I was living in a first floor apartment in the suburb of Wichita, Kansas, just minutes from where BTK lived and operated. Anyway, one night I was fast asleep in the middle of the night. I was woken up by a small voice whispering, daddy, something's wrong. Oh my God. I opened my eyes, still half asleep. And in the moonlight, shining through the window, I see a small ghost child whose face is covered in blood standing next to my bed. What? I screamed, what the fuck? And nearly kicked this ghost demon child back to hell when I woke up enough to realize it was not a ghost demon child, but my four year old son. Oh my God. Then came the realization that my four year old's face was covered in blood.

I asked him what happened and he just said, my face is wet. I checked his head for any cuts or injuries and couldn't find any. Then I realized that he had had a really bad nose bleed in his sleep and wiped it all over his face and head. Oh my God. This child was literally covered in blood, entire head, pajamas, arms and hands. Holy shit. I looked very suspicious the next morning, throwing away blood soaked sheets in the apartment complex dumpster. Six years later, and I'm remarried with a few more wonderful children and damn it if they don't still walk into our bedroom in the middle of the night whispering until we wake up. No. Is that it? They have no idea how close they have come to getting roundhouse kicked in those few moments

of terror before I realized they are my own children and not some hell demon or intruder. Stay sexy and tie a bell to your children, Corey. Oh my God. And that's a story before you knew he had children? Yes. You're just like, wait. That's why that's why it was a perfectly told story. Totally. Yeah. Wow. Daddy, something's wrong. And it's like, but I was a girl in college. Yeah. We're assuming it's from women. Oh, bloody children. Love it. Okay. This one's a little long, but it's my last one. Okay. It's called hometown story. Hello. I love you all. Here's a funny one. Let's get to it. Yeah. Me and my mom are family story addicts. Addicts. Addicts. You did it. Okay. Yeah. We love retelling funny anecdotes and making people listen to

our crazy shit. So mom, this one's for you. In the 80s, my Nana and grandpa moved into a new house with my mom who was in her early teens. They instantly got on with everybody. Nana was a crazy talented hairdresser and Tupperware party queen. Nice. Mom was rocking Doc Martens and begging for a Vespa, which she later drove through a bus shelter. And grandpa, well, he made the ladies swim in his classic cars and surprisingly consistent tan. I mean, it's the UK. How did he get it in the first place? For real? Anyway, point is they were the dream team. Not long after they'd settled into their new home, they heard from the neighbors about mysterious goings on in the garden down the road. Under the cover of night, the sky's gnomes were going on a walkabout,

appearing in strange formations on the front lawn, gaining funny hats or accessories, moving on to the adjacent neighbor's property or disappearing and reappearing the following night. It was hilarious, required a heap of dedication, but no one owned up. The gnome escapades went on for years. In fact, once I came along in 91, my mom and dad bought the house next door and the guy still hadn't gotten to the bottom of the mystery. The happenings just escalated. These 90s gnomes were cheekier, bolder, and they were doubling. New gnomes were arriving on a monthly basis until one morning there was a little gnome army waiting on his doorstep. Classic. Sadly, mid-90s, my grandpa was diagnosed with cancer, and during that time, the gnomes appeared to slow their flow and became

a little more relaxed. You got it, detectives. It was my grandpa, the gnome master. Shortly after they'd moved in on the way home from the pub, grandpa thought it'd be hilarious to move a gnome to a new position. After a few weeks, it just became a tradition, a tradition that lasted nearly 20 years. When he became ill, a few of his friends must have realized it was him, and instead of telling everyone who it was, they carried on moving the gnomes, and I'm pretty sure they continued to do it, do so after he passed away. Anyway, I hope you've enjoyed this silly little story. Stay sexy and remember to move your neighbor's gnomes, Georgie. I enjoyed that story when it was the film Omelie, and I enjoyed it today. That's right. I feel like there's a bunch of those stories out

there of people doing that. I love it. It's the best. Light victim-free pranks are very fun, and then finding out it's your grandpa. It's your grandpa being awesome and tan, and then his friends are like, we're not going to let anyone find out. Let it live. Also, net neighbor is just like, I'm the one that's happening. We have to keep this tradition up. It's like, or you could just stop doing it. I feel like if the neighbor really didn't like it, he would have just gotten rid of the gnomes. I would actually feel kind of honored. Like, someone cared enough to prank me. Totally. Yeah. And it's not like egging your house or anything you have to clean up. Right. Just gnomes. It's gnomes. Come on, there's a pun there.

Gnom Chomsky. Gnome harm, gnome foul. Nice. Thank you. It was immediate. That's how my brain works, but I don't know math. There's no room for math. There isn't. Send us your stories, my favorite murder Gmail or on our website, my favorite murder.com and stay sexy and don't get murdered. Goodbye Elvis. You want a cookie?