My Favorite Murder with Karen Kilgariff and Georgia Hardstark - MFM Minisode 194

Episode Date: September 28, 2020

This week’s hometowns include a serial killer connection and a phone pervert.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. That's Georgia Hartster, that's Karen Kilgariff and these are Steven's over there laying all the way down flat in his area and these are your letters that you've sent us that are where we appreciate so much. I got so many good ones this week that I just love them. I'll read some next week. They were so good. Everybody's good at it now. Everybody knows how to tell a story. I mean, that's just kind of a natural thing.

Most people know how to tell a story. People are getting good at injecting their own personalities. They can write a good email. Maybe everyone's liking it. Yeah. Do you want to go first this week since you're so strong? Let's do it. What a great idea. Okay, this just says hello. Hello. I'm writing to you from my in-laws house in Southern Oregon. Since I'm working remotely due to COVID, my husband and I decided to leave Los Angeles for a while and hunger down up here. It's been so great to have a change of scenery in this beautiful area. I fucking bet. Every time I come here to visit my husband's hometown near Ashland, Oregon, we always talk about the unsolved murder that happened almost 10 years ago. At the time, my husband was attending college at

Southern Oregon University, which is located in Ashland, home of the Oregon Shakespeare Festival. Yes. I went there when I was 12 and it changed my life. Oh my God. Yeah. It was amazing. It feels pretty magical in that town. Lots of trees, little squirrels, locals on bikes, and cute shops to walk around. So the story goes, in November 2011, a young man named David Grubbs was heading home from a shift at a local grocery store just a few blocks away from the outdoor theater where the Shakespeare actors perform, often in elaborate costumes and prop swords for fighting on stage. As darkness fell that night, the 23-year-old who was walking home on the bike path was brutally attacked. When someone came up upon his body, they discovered his head was

nearly chopped off. Upon official investigation, the autopsy revealed that David died of sharp force trauma from a finely honed blade longer than a typical knife. The popular theory being that he was decapitated with a sword. Ashland police have worked on this case for years and still don't have the answer to who killed David. The connection between the Shakespeare Festival and the possible use of a sword as the weapon is not confirmed, but certainly has painted a haunting legend around his murder. It's so sad. I really can't imagine such a brutal act of violence happening to anyone I love. In case this ends up being read, Crime Stoppers of Southern Oregon would love to hear tips anyone may have. I have no, yeah, right? That's good to know. Uh-huh. Shakespeare Festival.

I have no affiliation except that my heart breaks every time we drive through Ashland and I remember the story of David. I've read that police are still searching for any witnesses, details, or knowledge that isn't, that hasn't yet been reported. Thanks for sharing the amazing stories of your listeners. I learned such interesting things each week and I'm grateful for this consistent source of joy and curiosity. Stay sexy and stay far away from swords and there's no name. Now, can you just read again what year that crime took place so that if anybody does have a memory or something, they can call to Crime Stoppers of Southern Oregon and give information? Yes, it was 2011 and it sounds like the Shakespeare Festival must have been going on if that's what

was happening. Which means it's summertime. Yeah. Summertime 2011. Yeah. Or that's not for sure. I don't, right. But it was summer because we went there and didn't get out of school for it. Yeah. I'm pretty sure. And his name was David Grubbs, G-R-U-B-B-S, if you want to look it up. David Grubbs. Yeah. Wow. So horrible. And it's so true that town is very quaint and like everything about it is very delightful and almost whimsical. So the idea that there was just a terribly violent murder is horrible. Okay. We're going to stay in Oregon for this, my first hometown here. Awesome. Oregon. Well, I'm not going to read you the subject line. It just says at the beginning, you know who you are. Love it. Well done. Love it. And in the late 1970s, early 1980s, I lived

and went to college in Portland, Oregon with my BFF. When we needed to cut loose, we would frequent one, if not more, of the many taverns in our area. The one that we enjoyed was the Fawcett, which is the fucking greatest name for a bar. What the fuck? How good is that? It had large TVs tuned to football, cheap beer, and a good-looking bartender. Amen. All right. During that time, I shamelessly flirted with every bartender at every establishment we frequented in the hopes of getting either a free drink or service before everyone else at the bar. Oh, yeah. I have never flirted with a bartender. I've always been like, they get the top notch people at the bar. They don't want my fucking bullshit. A bartender doesn't want to date me. Well, I always just figure

whatever's going on with them personally. A bartender doesn't have the time to fuck around with me. So if I can include a witty rejoinder, is that the word? Is that the word? In the order, that's fine, but nothing extra because they're just like, I need to make money for those people over there. Yeah. Waitstaff and bartenders don't want your number and they'll give you yours if they want to fucking talk to you. They'll give you theirs. Yeah. Don't hit on waitstaff and bartenders, please. If a waiter gives you your phone number, that's actually a proposal of marriage. You're actually legally wed to them if they can guess your number and give it to you. You have to marry them common law, California law. It's the law. Okay. At the faucet,

at the faucet, the bartender was Randy. This is such an 80s picture. I love it. It's delightful. Are there Randy's anymore? Oh my God. You know what I was thinking about? Are there Robby's anymore? Remember when the cool guy was always Robby, the skateboarder, surfer guy? Sure. There's no more Robby's. It might still be a family name, but the Mackenzie's are beating out the Robby's at least 10 to 1. Definitely. These are not real. These are not real statistics, everybody. One night, okay, now it turns. One night, he asked me out and all caps for some reason, I said, I don't go out with people I don't know, meaning someone with no references in my life, other friends or school or co-workers, etc.

This was a complete lie. I was in my early 20s. It was the 80s. I went out with everyone. I love when grownups write to us. Yes. They know and they did it and there's no shame because everybody does it. They did it with cell phones and Google, so they did it. They fucking had to learn how to do it. That was the other piece too. If you did go to a bar where you may have had a crush or been deeply in love with a bartender, separate from your alcoholism, you would have to make it happen in that environment because there was no Facebook for him or you to stalk the other. Totally. If only we could go back to the time of no Facebook. Anyway, I miss bars. Okay. He kept pressing and I kept retreating. I do not know why. He was good looking. He was as

nice as could be, but dot, dot, dot. One night the phone rang. Yep. One that had a cord and was hanging on a wall and it was Randy. He again asked me out and I again declined. When I asked my roommate how he got our number, she told me that she gave it to him because quote, he seemed nice and he really wanted to go out with me. A few weeks later, I was watching the news in time to hear that the authorities had captured the I five killer and when they showed him on film next to his gold VW I yelled, isn't that Randy from the faucet? You guessed it. It was none other than Randy Woodfield, the I five killer. That's like fucking heavy hitter. That's a big one. And he was had been a professional football player. He was classic part hair parted down

the middle 80s. Dude, hot. He was dude. This chick needs a fucking award. She I mean for real. Okay. Needless to say, anytime thereafter, my roommate would ask me for a favor parentheses driving to the airport, helping her move babysitting. I would remind her of the time she gave our phone number. She gave our phone number to a serial killer. I joined the countless other people who have thanked you for your work. You too, Steven, during the pandemic, I especially enjoy the first parts of the podcast where the two of you are just so excited to be talking to each other. It's so true that you were talking about anything and everything. It's as if I'm sitting right there on that couch with you two and not quite so lonely in the pandemic. Also, Karen, love on the spectrum

and Cardinal are fantastic. And thanks so much for those recommendations. Remember, as bad as this gets, you are not alone. Stay sexy and flirt with only certain bartenders, Cindy. I feel like Cindy, our big sister who's like, I lived it. Let me tell you what to do. That's so crazy. Cindy is an 80s name also along with Randy and the rest and Robbie. Cindy is an 80s name. Oh my God. Cindy, you nailed that. Thank you so much. And holy shit, you must feel like you have a superpower. You do. Yeah, because you do. Because that instinct, I mean, I hope it has served you well in every other way because that was unbelievable. That's, I'm just in awe. Okay. Be like Cindy. Here's our new slogan. Be like Cindy and go with your gut. And don't date bartenders.

And be from the 80s. Okay, hometown story. Okay, it just starts. Okay, look, I was listening to last week's Minnesota and you asked for trying to kill your sibling stories. I shot coffee out of my nose and almost drove off the road. Finally, I have something to tell Karen in Georgia. I am five years older than my sister. And to say that I was furious when she was born is an understatement. Having been an only child up until this point, I was less than thrilled to have to share the spotlight. Well, she came out kicking and screaming. I would not stop screaming for the first nine months of her life. And then in parentheses, it says colic. And then it says, insert I roll here. She made up the call. She's like, she's like, colic isn't real. Yeah.

Nine months of this was long enough to instill in me a need to rid the earth and our family of this wretched child ASAP. My first attempt was when she was maybe two years old. I took her upstairs and convinced her to eat a ton of children's grape Tylenol. That's like legit attempted murder. And then it says, I'm too old to have too old to have been deterred by childproof packaging. Oh my God. Needless to say, she got through about a quarter of the bottle before my dad walked in, rushed her to the bathroom, made her vomit, and then called poison control. And then it says, oh, well, a few years later, being inspired by Shell Silverstein, I decided if I couldn't kill her, then I would re-home her. I got out of my little red wagon and made her sit in it and had and made

a sign on a cardboard that read, one sister for sale, 25 cents. I sat in my lawn chair and waited. We lived in a quiet cul-de-sac with no real traffic. So I didn't have any takers. Our grandmother lived across the street from us at the time. She called my mom and then came out of her house, paid me a quarter and then took my sister with her. At least I made a profit on that attempt. Oh yeah. Finally, I figured if my parents got mad enough at her, they would get rid of her for me. So after my mom's brand new expensive drapes got delivered and installed, I snuck into the living room and cut a big hole in the corner of the drapes and fucking, we had to get drapes put in the house. That shit is not fucking cheap. It's ridiculous.

Hell of expensive. It's a fucking scam. Okay. Yeah. No, they look beautiful. Okay. Then I then planted the scissors in her bedroom and waited. My mother was so livid, I thought she would have a stroke. I simply replied, Beth did it. And then proceeded to find the evidence in her room. For the first time in my life, my mom believed me and my sister was in trouble. Not a huge deal and she was only four, but it was a win in my book. I carried the secret with me for 35 years until I finally admitted at a family dinner that it had been me that had cut those drapes all those years before and had never been more thrilled than to have gotten away with it. Now I am an upstanding for the most part citizen, mother of two boys, true crime addict who has never felt the need to frame

my sister or anyone else again. But my stories are legendary in our family. And whenever a friend of my sister meets me, they say, Oh, you're the one who tried to kill her. Yep. Needless to say, after all of my countless torturing of my sister, my parents never felt the need to have more children. Yeah. Love you both so much. And you are the glue holding this epic show of a world together for me. Stay sexy and don't try to sell your sister in front of your grandparents house. Kate. Kate. Oh, my. It makes me feel a little better about my sister. I don't think she tried to kill me. You know? Yeah, you'd remember, I bet. Or yeah, you would have buried it deep. Either way. Either way. That's so hilarious. I also love that she, I mean, each thing is

more devious than the last. I think sell the sales one is the lightest. Yeah. I think straight up trying to poison her is really dark. But then the like the real hitch cocky and set up of the drapes and nerves me deeply. Then the fact that she didn't go, Oh, when we turn 21, I'm going to cop to it. She waited fucking 35 years. I love it. I'd like to hear from Beth. Yes. Wait, is that her sister's name? Yes, Beth. Let's hear Beth's side of this for sure. Let's hear Beth's side of this for sure. Cause she's like, Oh, I was hospitalized long ago. I've been in a straight jacket this whole time. It actually wasn't funny. Actually, there is no Beth. This was an only child. Okay. Again, I don't want to read you the subject line, even though it's good.

Hey all, New York in the 70s was rough. The son of Sam was on a rampage. Vietnam was happening. And honestly, serial killers were really coming to the forefront everywhere. So shit was not okay. People also got into the habit of making phone calls to random numbers and breathing heavily into the receiver in order to get off sexually. I mean, I don't want to yuck someone else's yum. Oh my God. That is the most beautiful saying I've ever heard. Don't yuck someone else's yum. I love that. Do you hate it? No, I love it. I love it. But consent translates even through phone lines. Yes. That's really what it's all about. Okay. Anyways, my mom, her brother, and her mom, Elaine were living on Staten Island and my grandpa was serving in Vietnam

as an army chaplain. So she was feeling pretty vulnerable as she was all alone with two young kids in the same state that a lot of crazy stuff was happening in. These calls were coming in on a near daily basis and it was pretty upsetting as well. Well, Elaine was fed up with these deviants, so she came up with an action plan. It was so simple and effective. She would answer the phone and immediately blow a regulation coach's whistle. Loudly as she could into the receiver. That's genius. That's genius. And she would keep blowing the whistle until they hung up. That is so genius. Okay. It's such a quick, easy solution. She would keep this whistle next to the phone so it always was on standby. My mom said that she'd be playing outside with her brother and they would

just randomly hear the whistle blow and they knew Elaine was causing some hearing damage to some immature individuals ears and really keep killing some people's vibes. My grandma was such a strong woman and she went through so much in her lifetime. She taught me the value of kindness and how to be a strong woman myself. She passed away in 2004 from cancer and she has been missed so dearly. On my wedding day, this past March, right before COVID hit, I was given her wedding ring to wear as my something old. Ooh, that got me. That's beautiful. That got me good. And knowing that she was there with me made the day even more memorable. It was even more meaningful as my grandpa, her husband married my husband and I. Oh, because he was the army chaplain. Oh, he made it through

Vietnam. Oh, thank God. When he looked down at that ring, he tearfully expressed how proud she would be of us and that he misses her every day. I hope this story gives you some hope that love does exist even in this crazy, unpredictable world. Love you all so much. Thank you for all you do, SSDGM Heather from Colorado. PS, please say something nice or give some good news to a teacher if you know one. We could really use some encouragement right now. Oh, that's beautiful. Oh, Heather. Oh, Heather. Oh, touching. That was great. So touching. The only thing that could have made that better, she looked down and she was given her regulation coach's whistle or her grandmother's coach's whistle. What if like you're like your now husband and wife and he puts

the coach, the whistle around her neck like a necklace, you know, even around both of their necks. So they're trapped. Their heads are trapped together and then he whistles in both of their ears. This is what love is like. It's exciting and painful. It's deafening. Love is deafening. You know it's real when you can't hear and you're panicking. That was beautiful. That was great. 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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Goodbye. What makes a person a murderer? Are they born to kill or are they made to kill? I'm Candice 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. All right my last one is about treasure from action part and it's an action park story to boot. A treasure com action park comic story? I can't get enough of these action park. Oh and the photo of the woman from last week's action park story where she hit her face at the bottom of the pool and her dad made like took photos of it. Oh yeah. We got the photo so Stephen can we put that in this in the Instagram or Twitter of this week's episode? Just remind me. Awesome. Oh that's great. Yeah it's fucking swollen. Okay treasure. Hi I thought I missed my window to send you my action park story but it seems that that

window will never close for you too. No we broke that wall open there's not even a window anymore. That's right so here goes. In the mid 80s two of my older cousins spent their summers lifeguarding at the wave pool at action park aka the grave pool and it's true three fucking people died in it. No. Okay I still haven't watched the documentary I have to. Sorry. No no that's okay but I mean fuck Jesus. Yeah it's crazy. The wave pool's terrifying me and this one is this will make you. It's terrifying. Okay. Yeah it's horrible. The Christmas after their first summer at action park their family of six kids and my aunt and uncle came to visit my family in New Hampshire for Christmas. At our house there were three of us kids plus my mom and grandmother so when we were all together it was pretty chaotic

and festive. It was not tradition for us cousins to give anyone gifts at Christmas. We left all the gifting to the adults. So smart. But that Christmas we all had mysterious packages under the tree that were signed from our cousins the lifeguards. Oh. When we opened the packages they all had watches in them wrapped in tissue paper. Any guesses where the watches came from? It turns out that every night after the guests left action park and they turned the waves off all 12 of the lifeguards who were on duty and then it said that's right 12 which tells you how fucking dangerous it was. Yeah. We'd race down to the bottom of the pool where the giant sucking filters were and fish out all the treasure. They got wallets, loose cash, jewelry, many many wedding

rings and watches upon watches. I don't remember the details of every watch they gave out at Christmas that year but I know that my brother and I each got a Casio calculator watch. Oh shit. The bomb in my eighth grade algebra class and my grandmother got a brown swatch which she wore well into the 2000s. We love the hell out of those watches. I don't think I need to tell you that the idea of a pool that is capable of knocking watches off of people's wrists is not cool. I have never and will never go in a fucking wave pool and then it's SSDGIAGP. Stay sexy and don't go in a gravity pool, GP goddamn pool. Yeah. Libby from Northampton, Massachusetts. Wow Libby. So cool. That is like Christmas shopping at the bottom of a wave pool. That is like the scariest

worst story with this icing, this delicious cream cheese icing of free watches and cash. And wedding rings. So good. Everything about that fucking theme park if you haven't seen, is it called Action Park or Class Action Park? I think it's called Action Park. Let me look. And you know who, what's, what's his names in it, that comedian? Chris Gethard. Chris Gethard is so funny in it. Yeah, it's Class Action Park. Class Action Park on HBO. He says this thing at the end of it where it's like, you know, as adults we all, when we're drinking beers with our friends, we all laugh about it, but we also all cry about it at our therapist's office. Yeah. It's, the neglect is, is real. It's the height of, it was the 80s, right? The early mid 80s.

Everybody cared about like, it was like, now we're into Wall Street and you kids can go fuck yourselves. No one cared. You weren't, you weren't precious yet. We weren't precious. No, we weren't, we weren't precious in the eyes of God or our parents. Okay. I'm going to end with a psychic aunt story. Ooh, fun. Hey, KNG. Growing up, my dad told me lots of stories about my great aunt May. I also had a great aunt May. She had, she was a San Francisco native, but she had a weird accent that many San Francisco natives have that makes them sound like they're from New York. So she'd, she was big into making, she was big into crafts and she would make a lot of pies. And she told my dad one time and he does it every time because my dad loves making apple pie.

And my aunt May told him the secret is to stick your finger in the middle. Apparently that's, you vent the center of the pie. Yeah. So that has a place to escape and it doesn't get soggy. Oh, I love it. Okay. But we're back to this aunt May. She was well known for her sense of humor, her outrageous fashion sense parentheses. We're talking multiple layers of diamond necklaces and rings. Hell yes. Clothes parentheses and the fact that she had a knack for predicting the future. In her childhood, she had been a well-witcher. That's someone who holds a branch or some shit and can tell you where to dig for water. She made her fortune repeatedly winning at horse races. She won so much in fact that not her, nor her four husbands,

and then again in parentheses, aunt May seemed to always pick well off men that died young. Okay. Well, she knew the future. Clothes parentheses never had to work to support the family. On top of all that, whenever she was bored, she would read tea leaves for her friends and neighbors in exchange for cash or juicy gossip about the people she hated. Yes. Yes. As my father tells it, all these psychic charades came to a stop when she was in her mid 30s and her best friend Anna came over for a tea leaf reading. Auntie May picked up Anna's cup to read it and abruptly stopped insisting that she wasn't feeling well and sending Anna home without telling her what the leaves had said. The second her best friend was out the door,

she called my grandmother and told her and I quote, Jean, there was nothing but death in that goddamn cup. As it turns out on her way home from Aunt May's house, Anna got into a terrible car accident and less than 20 minutes after leaving, she died. Aunt May had a lot of regret about not telling Anna her fortune and even more for sending her out of the house to her death. After that day, she quit reading tea leaves, although she still went to the racetrack every week to quote, keep up the lifestyle that she was accustomed to. You gotta have hobbies in your older age. A freaky fact. Great Auntie May lived until the day I was born, May 13th, 1994 and passed away within 20 minutes of my birth. My family likes to joke that some of her psychic

spirit lives on in me. I don't know about that because I have yet to win a fucking thing in my life, but this sentiment is very nice to think about. SSDGM, but also just tell me what the fucking tea leaves say, Lisa. Oh, I was hoping her name would be May. It's funny that she was born in May and then May died in May. Yeah. That's right. That's crazy. Isn't that good? I love the, I think there's lots of more stories like this of people who are psychic and they just don't tell other people because they don't want to be bothered and they don't want to be burdened with that information, but they have it. And then I feel like everyone's waiting for you to be wrong too. They're like, people want to prove you wrong once you, once you say that you're psychic,

you know. Right. Yes, for sure. Right. Good batch. That was a good batch. I know. That was a good chunk of stories for everybody. That's a good characters in that one. There were Cindy and Robby. Send us, no matter what age you are, yeah. Send us your stories, no matter what age you are. There's no age limit to ride this wave pool of hometowns. Yep. You're tall enough. Get on this ride. Do you have other like horror stories from, um, from, um, what are they called? Action park? Not action park, but like amusement parks and stuff. Oh, any amusement park? Sure. Tell us the amusement park story. I know someone, um, when I was little, I found out they got killed on Space Mountain at Disneyland and I, I refused to ride it until I was like a teenager. It's terrifying. Oh

my God. Yeah. Are they one of the people that stood up on Space Mountain? I think the bar just wasn't down all the way and they fucking flew out and it's pitch black in there. It's terrifying. It's horrible. So you feel like you're going faster than you are. It's terrifying. All right. What if I just burst into tears as I said that? My throat, my throat felt weird and then I'm like, I don't like that ride. I don't like that ride. All right. Well, um, yeah, right to us and, um, and you know, be cool, stay sexy and don't get murdered. Goodbye. Elvis, do you want a cookie?