My Favorite Murder with Karen Kilgariff and Georgia Hardstark - MFM Minisode 164

Episode Date: March 2, 2020

This week’s hometowns include a workplace-based murder and a flashlight in the backyard. See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

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And welcome. To my favorite murder. The Men Johto. That's right. That's my new accent. I love it. Thanks. It's from Sweden.

The Swedes know what I'm talking about. They understood what this is. They got it immediately. We're about to read some of your emails that you've sent to us at myfavoritmurderatgmail.biz. That's right. And you send us emails about all kinds of topics. We'd like to make out a public call for hometown murder stories again, just because we've gone in such weird directions at this point.

We've asked people for stories about things that are now almost have nothing to do with true crime. Right. So close your eyes. Like in your childhood or whatever, high school, college and this like thing that shook your town. Yeah. But you know, everyone like true crime thing that shook your town.

Yeah. Tell us about it with your heart and like however, you know, we want to know the details. And if your grandma's in there, it's a bonus, but she doesn't have to be. Yeah. Or if it happened when your grandma was a girl. Yes. We love those too. And she told you about it.

Family lore, but true crime based. Right. We just want to, just a reminder that that's also what we want. We still love that your little sister stabbed you in the face when you were five. God. I'll tell that story every day. Exactly. We love it.

So don't stop those. We want to do it all, but we also want to make sure people still send us their hometowns. You get it. We'll, but let's go over it one more time. Okay. You go first. Yeah. Okay.

Hello to my Queens, furry friends and stay bet. Yeah. Let's get to it. And then she put in asterisks. I changed names out of respect for victims and she did, which is great. I also pulled out a detail she left in because I think it's very indicative. So it's almost, I changed another name, but not of a person. Got it.

The name of a word, the name of a sentence. I name words, just it's easier. Back in my twenties, I worked at a TV network where I helped produce all of the horribly wonderful countdown shows that you only really watched when you were hungover. While working there, I made friends with a guy named Henry. Whenever anyone in the company needed anything, you always called him. He was a very popular, charming and good-looking man. Anyway, he became romantically involved with a coworker of mine, we'll call her Jenny.

It was under the radar for a while, but after a few months, they decided to dot, dot, dot, get married. What? Red flag in all caps with an exclamation point. Yeah. And the news of their marital bliss was the talk of our office cut to six months later. They were separated and Jenny moves in with her sister, Anna, who was also a coworker. One day shortly after their breakup, I'm leaving work to get into an elevator with him.

We have some small chit chat. I asked him what he's up to that night. He says not much. The elevator doors open. I say, have a great night and then I'll see him tomorrow, except I don't see him tomorrow. That night, he goes over to his sister-in-law's house where Jenny is staying to bring her a few things she had left after she moved out. Jenny invites him in.

They have some wine. They're actually getting along well until they don't. A few hours later, they start to argue and he becomes enraged. He pulls out a knife and starts stabbing her 13 times, to be exact. Jenny's sister, Anna, hears the screen. She runs to her sister's room where she sees Henry stabbing her. Anna tries to stop him, but he turns towards her and starts to strangle her. Oh my God.

Anna is able to kick herself free and gets away, but he chases her down the stairs and starts stabbing her with broken wine glass. Anna manages to grab the wine glass during the struggle and this badass bitch stabbed Henry in the nuts twice. Stephen just had a physical reaction. Anna runs out of the house where he keeps chasing her. She's able to make it to the neighbor's house safely. Henry stops in the driveway and stabs himself in the chest and slits his wrist.

My God. A detective at the scene said it was the bloodiest crime scene he'd ever seen in his 30 years on the job and that's in Los Angeles. Holy shit. Jenny died at the scene. Anna, her sister, survived. Henry didn't stab himself deep enough, no, of course, and was convicted of second degree murder and involuntary manslaughter and received 21.5 years to life in prison.

That's it. That's not enough, everyone. It's a murder. Yeah. Yeah. It's like that I actually know a murderer and someone that's been murdered. Stay sexy and be careful of office romances and then she wrote, ugh, C-Mom dating in L.A. really does suck.

Oh. Amen. And that's from S. Oh my God. Okay. I love that we just called for this thing and then it's like, well, here's mine now. And then we're like, oh yeah. That's right.

That's the most intense one. Well, that's awful. Yeah. Wow. It's crazy that she saw him that night. I mean, that day on the elevator. Right. And so it's like, I think we picture, you know, I was just reading a thing on Twitter

and they were talking about things to do of like a man approaches you and kind of won't leave you alone and like different strategy and stuff like that, which was very cool. And then someone else retreated it and wrote, but please remember that the danger, the largest percentage of danger comes from people you know. Totally. And it's like, I think that's, it's fine to cite, but it's like, but that's a thing that what's happening here, I think is like, no one would expect it. These are, these are like these crimes of passion, these things that like, or it's like,

this guy is my coworker. He can hold a job. He's sane. He's normal. He's in an office with me. Does a good job. Therefore, he wouldn't hurt anybody. Right.

Yeah. I think that's the... Just don't... The secret is to not trust anyone. Oh. Right? No matter where they work. Not going to reach you the subject, but it does start similarly.

To yours, hey Queens, Katz and Mustache. Wow. Everyone's getting it down to the slides. Right. My dad recently reminded me of a murder scene he found at his town with his grandpa. My dad said when he was about 10, he was coming home from visiting his grandpa in Hump Tulips, Washington. Spell that, please.

H-U-M-P, then the word Tulips. Hump Tulips. And then he says, yes, that's a real place. Second only to sprankers New York. Sprankers. a car wreck and a man sitting on the side of the road. Being a small town in the middle of nowhere, they got out and helped the man get a hold of the police and a tow truck. The man said he was driving with his wife and child in the car and they had died on

impact. The cops came and didn't ask them any questions besides asking if the man had anything to drink. He let the tow truck take the car away, all caps, with the bodies inside. What? Yeah, old timey small town. Yeah, yeah, yeah. It seemed like an open and shut case of driving on a dark road in the mode of nowhere and missing a deer, but my dad said that night stuck with him and his grandpa for a long time because what woman in 1960s leaves the house naked?

No. My dad said he even mentioned it was odd to the police, but small town cops suck. Well, 30 years. Oh, careful. I know. Well, 30 years later, the husband comes forward and said he murdered his wife and child that night, put them in the car and tried to kill himself by crashing the car. The small town cops never thought a family man would murder his wife and young child, so they never looked

into further into the case. Oh. Anyway, stay sexy and don't get murdered. PS, accounting is boring. I would know because I am one. Kat. Oh, that's awful. I know. When you said what woman drives naked, I just got this chill where it's just like something ain't right.

Yeah, I mean, like, you know for a fact something's not right. Right. Why in God's name would that woman be naked in a car? Literally. That's horrible. Ask one question, please. Please just ask a couple questions. Just a couple.

This starts, what's the craic? So this is from Ireland. Okay. Hey, ladies, and I don't know if I'm saying craic right, of course, but that's what it looks like. But I've seen it written when we were over there. Yeah. I guess it's slang.

Okay, grandma. This is not a murder but a hilarious story from one of my grandmother's friends. Love it. Look, that's also what the show is. We all need it right now after those first two stories. We're right. Please. I'm from Belfast, Northern Ireland and my mom has told me this story many times throughout

my life and it's probably one of my faves. So back in the 70s, times were hard due to the troubles. A lot of women didn't work. My grandma's friend, let's call her Sally, was a single mother and times were hard. So she decided, you guessed it, to turn to selling her services for a bit of the extra money. Oh, I put the duh in there, for a bit of extra money. She was approached by a man with an odd request in the south of the city.

We're from the, in parentheses, we're from the north, so a couple of miles away. He has asked her to wear a shroud, yes, a funeral one, and get into a coffin. Oh no. As it's for a bit of cash and money is tight, she agrees. Why not? Yeah. Then he tries to put the lid on the coffin. Sally freaks out and bolts out of the house and runs down the main road in this funeral

shroud. Fair to say she got a few horrified looks along the way. Thank you for making me feel less lonely in the true crime world. Please add Belfast to your next UK and Ireland tour. I would love to see you guys. Stay sexy and don't get in a coffin wearing a funeral shroud when alive, Linz. What exactly is a funeral shroud? It's the veil that you put over the face, yes.

I believe. It's what I thought, okay. You know, I'm sure it's another word for tea over there. It could be anything. How do I know? How would you know? How really would I know? That's terrifying.

A funeral shroud. Or is it? No, shroud of turn was the full body wrap. She was basically like wrapped up like a mummy. In a shroud. Steven's nodding. He's looking at us. It's a funeral.

I just pictured a lacy black veil. I did too, but I don't think that's what it is. No, no, no. Oh, Steven's. Oh, it's like, it's like a. Oh, it's, she, she, okay. He asked her based on the pictures Steven just brought up to be wrapped up. Yeah.

In like sheets, essentially. It's a full book, full covered head to toe. And so she's. She's running down the street. She's basically running down the street like a mummy. That's what, that's the part that threw me off because I was like, so what, it just a, okay, no, that's a lot worse. You know what, we really put the context clues together in this.

We asked the internet. Yeah. As we're learning and growing. It says this bamboo burial shroud is $2.99 on funeraldirect.com. Oh, wow. So like, they're expensive. Get a bamboo one. Be organic.

And then eventually guys looks like a funeral shroud looks like what a body is in sometimes if there's a burial at sea where the body is wrapped like that. So basically this woman was running up the street like a mummy guys. We figured it out. God bless everybody. Um, hey y'all. Hey. When I was 16, my mom and I lived in a house in the middle of nowhere.

It's normally pretty quiet. One night about 2am, I noticed a light outside my bedroom window and realized there was somebody in our backyard with a flashlight. I got nervous and went to get my mom, but when I left my room and walked down the hall, I spotted her crouching in the kitchen and frantically gesturing for me to be quiet. She had seen the light too. We waited for what felt like 10 minutes as the light appeared in every window as the person outside walked around the house.

Finally, somebody knocked on the door and my mom peeked out the curtains, gave me a look and then opened the door. It was a police officer. She told my mom that they had received a phone call from our home phone, but nothing was said, only heavy breathing. They thought someone had broken in and we were trying to keep from alerting intruder. My mom told them that was impossible because we did not have a phone line at the time. And besides, it was just her and me in the house.

Eventually the cop left and we went back to bed. I don't like this at all. The next morning, however, we opened the living room curtains and nearly had a heart attack as on the window were two handprints as if someone had been trying to look through the window. What? Yeah. Parentheses hands?

Parentheses hands next to your face. Around your eyes. Okay. Over the next six months, my mom and me would routinely come home to find all the lights on, our dressers and medicine cabinets emptied, wall decorations taken off the wall and on the other side of the room. And once I came home from a date and found every light on and every door open. What?

Including the front and back doors. Everybody. Yeah. Run. I had to beg a friend to come check the house with me because I was too afraid to go in. Then as suddenly as it started, it all stopped. My mom thinks it was a married woman. My mom's ex-boyfriend had been cheating with that had been harassing my mom's phone for

over a year. Oh, no. My mom had physical evidence of the affair that she was holding onto for safekeeping and blackmail, and she believed the woman was waiting until we were gone and trying to find it and never did. But wanted us to know she was watching. Yeah. To this day, I still get nervous visiting my mom overnight because I'm worried that

this mysterious intruder will come back. Stay sexy and don't let weirdo women follow you home. Oh. And there's no name. Wow. How, like, it's harassment and terrifying. Also, the visual I had in my head of walking into, like, seeing something scary and then trying to figure out what's going on and walking into the kitchen and seeing your mom crouched

down and making gestures to be quiet is, like, such a panic moment. What scared me more was walking, getting into the house, and all the lights are on and the doors are open. Yeah, that's just like. But then I thought it was like we were going into a ghost story. Yes. I was going to say extraterrestrial, though, but what did I mean? I meant paranormal, paranormal, extra paranormal, terrestrials.

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You can listen ad-free on the Amazon Music or Wondery app. You know how I like to, for the third one, save it for a prayer of story? Oh, always. Hello. I'm fairly new to your podcast, but I'm so grateful. My friend recommended you Crazy Kids. You keep me company on my long commute to work. And I thank you for your humor, kindness, honesty, and true love for, quote, your people, i.e.,

murdering us. I was listening to the Hallmark Prove story, and it took me back to my retail management days. I worked in a store called Garden Botan... Sorry. I worked in a store called Garden Botanalia. No. And then in parentheses, it was like bath and body.

Our uniform was a company shirt, and we were allowed to wear any bottoms as long as they were black. So you just go crazy in those retail jobs and be yourself. We often wore black tights and a cute little skirt just in case any cuties came into the store. Well, we often did attract cuties, but there was this one time we attracted a super perv who loved feet, especially in black tights. And he loved to call the shop and tell us how much he loved our feet and what he'd

like to do with them. What the fuck, men? For real. Like, have that perversion all you want. Keep it to yourself. Don't share it with the world. Nobody asked. Yeah.

Okay, parentheses. Oh, just at the end of that sentence, she wrote, yeah, she wrote, insert drive heave here. The girls would tell me about his calls, and it went on for a couple months. But I had never answered the phone when he would call. Finally I got his call, and I was so ready for him. He went on with his perv talk and finally asked me, would you like that? I replied in a super sexy voice, oh, yes, that sounds amazing.

But I hope you don't mind a little toe jam. Don't you love the taste of toe cheese? I heard a quick gasp on it, and the line went dead. And that is how we got rid of the super perv who loved feet. Yeah. Yes. Stay sexy and remember, there are two ways to talk dirty. Beth.

I love it. She solved that problem. So good. Garden Botanalia, you've never had a better store manager than Beth. Amen. Okay. Last one. Hey, MFM crew.

Hey. Then it starts. We're in it. We're in it. Last episode, Georgia read the hometown about the girl getting stabbed in the face by her sister, and Karen talked about how kids do things just to see what happens. Well, as a lifeguard for five years, I can definitely attest to that. I worked at a private summer camp in Connecticut where the schedule would allow each camp group

to come into the pool for an hour a day. The kids would come over and shifts and were grouped by age, blah, blah, blah. Well, in the four-year-old group, there was often quite a few kids who weren't strong swimmers. They would stand the shallow end of the pool and usually just sit on the stairs with their legs in the water. This included one boy, one four-year-old boy by the name of Logan. Now Logan was an interesting kid who, despite being four, had the personality of an 80-year-old

man. Cute. Aw. He asked a million questions about what it was like to be a lifeguard, and often took it upon himself to inconspicuously push the other non-swimmers from the stairs into the pool just to see what would happen, and that's in quotes, just to see what would happen. Oh, Logan. Since he himself couldn't swim, he was curious as to what would actually happen if you ended

up in over your head, and on many occasions, we had to ban him from the swimming pool for attempted drownings. Oh, no. Logan. As fate would have it, karma came for him when one day, as he was walking around the edge of the pool, he fell in himself, sinking like a rock to the bottom. I quickly jumped in and pulled him out, and he was so shocked that all he kept repeating was, I drowned, and you came in after me and pulled me up.

I drowned. I drowned. Oh, no. Now Logan was only under the water for approximately three seconds, so he had to assure his mother at the end of the day that he did not, in fact, drown. Needless to say, he never pushed another kid in the pool after that. Yeah, he learned. That's right.

Stay sexy and teach your kids to swim before sending them to camp with a pool, Jill. Oh, Logan. Well, Logan. I mean, I know that people would interpret that as that he was a homicidal child, but I absolutely get that. He was just curious. He wanted to see what it would look like if he fell in, how scary that would be, what would happen to his body.

I'm going to try this on other people before I attempt it. They're fine. Yeah. I don't want it to happen to me, though. Real people don't have feelings. At this point, I would just like to make this note. Yeah. My sister says this all the time, because she is a grammar school teacher.

She one time at a end of school, school year party at the public pool, standing around and looked down, and there was just a kid at the bottom of the pool and fully dressed. My sister dove in and pulled this kid out, which is, if you know my sister, my sister brought hot rollers to Ireland. She is all about outfits, getting ready, being ready. She doesn't want to dive into the pool for any reason. So when she told me that story, I was blown out. But just remember, when children drown, it makes no noise.

There's no splashing. There's no, it just is silent and quick. So I just think that's a very interesting detail. That's a great, that's a great warning. As summer is right around the corner, please be all eyes and aware. So if there's a Logan in the mix, then you really got to keep your eyes open. Keep your kid away from Logan's. That's our advice to you.

Send us your stories. My favorite murder at gmail.com. Dot com is the real one. That's right. But thanks for listening. Yes, and thank you for sharing all your stories. We love them. We love them.

Stay sexy. And don't get murdered. Goodbye. Thomas, do you want a cookie?