My Favorite Murder with Karen Kilgariff and Georgia Hardstark - MFM Minisode 224

Episode Date: April 26, 2021

This week’s hometowns include a mace story and a pen-based murder.See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

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

It's tiny, it's cute, you love it. You sent it to us, we're reading it. Do you want me to go first? Do you have a solid ending? Sure. Okay. Always. Good.

It's got to end on a high, sweet, kind, funny note. Right? Yeah. Something. Okay. My father, the 16-year-old brothel rum runner. Mmm. Hey, y'all.

You asked for crazy job stories. And while I don't have one, my dad's high school job really takes the cake. My dad grew up in New Orleans. When he was 16 years old, he got a job with his next door neighbor slash best friend's family. This family owned a few bars on Bourbon Street and hired my dad to work at one of the bars. He and his best friend would go to work from 6 p.m. to 2 a.m. every weekend during the summers and most of the school year too.

This was Bourbon Street in the 1960s, just as raucous but with a lot fewer rules. Exactly the place you want to send a 16-year-old to work. No rules. No. Lots of moves. Of age, at that point probably. My dad describes the job as, quote, we'd bring beer to the front and gloss to the back and do it all over again.

But this wasn't fully the truth. Soon into their employment, the bar owner asked them to start running a nightly errand. Each night around 9 p.m., they would bring a case of alcohol to Miss Wallace at her, quote, home. They were told to, quote, wait there until Miss Wallace pays you and only accept cash. My dad and his friend knew exactly who Miss Wallace was and were rightfully excited to do this delivery, especially, again, as 16-year-old boys. Miss Wallace was none other than Norma Wallace, the last madam of New Orleans.

Well, brothel owner extraordinaire. And then it says she's credited with hosting the first strip teases on Bourbon Street and helping the FBI with capturing mobsters. Whoa. Girl. Each evening, they would gather up the liquor, drive over to her brothel, and were let in by the bouncer to wait in the hall. Still sitting there, they saw all the clientele coming and going.

Police chiefs, prominent businessmen, politicians, even the mayor, allegedly on many occasions. Every night, Miss Wallace would come downstairs with a wad of cash and they'd be on their way. They continued this job for nearly three years. Wow. Later in life, Miss Wallace tried to revamp her reputation by opening a fancy restaurant on an old plantation. My grandmother chose to go there for her birthday shortly after it opened. Miss Wallace was making the rounds, greeting guests, and when she saw my dad, came over

and warmly welcomed him by name. As she left, my grandmother, who didn't recognize Miss Wallace, asked, how do you know that woman? My dad replied, I've eaten here before. Just stay sexy. Melanie. Immediately, you're telling me the story, but I'm picturing the Simpsons where Bart goes to the cat house. You remember that one?

Yeah. Where I'm just like, wait a second. I've heard this story before. Wait. Now, do you think the boss said only accept cash? Do not exchange sex for this liquor? Oh. Or it's like, don't trust this lady on credit.

Even though she probably had all the cash in the frickin' world, but maybe has stiffed someone before. Yeah. I think it was like, don't let her say, boys, would you like to go upstairs instead of getting paid? That's what I was thinking. Nice one. Yeah.

A little historical brothel story. Okay. The subject line gives this away, so I'll just read it to you. I'm crew and pets. Listening to your episode 270 about Pam Hub, Karen's remark about what could be less effective for a stabbing than a ballpoint pen reminded me of my hometown murder known in the Netherlands as the ballpoint murder or the ballpoint affair. In my hometown of Leiden in 1991, a 53-year-old woman, Mary DeMayer.

This person is writing in pronounced blank and they're doing it perfectly. It seems like I know how to pronounce these names, but they are writing it in for me. Okay. So a 53-year-old woman named Mary DeMayer was found dead by her 19-year-old son. And autopsy showed that she died because a big ballpoint pen was wedged into her brain that apparently entered trigger warning via her eye socket. Oh, no. Oh, no.

No. It had gotten so far inside her brain that it was not visible from the outside and it only showed up on the x-ray. Oh, my God. Yeah. After a few years of fruitless police investigation, the authorities arrest her 19-year-old son for murder because his therapist came forward to say that he had told her he shot his mother with a crossbow and then in parentheses loaded with the big pen.

After a caretaker from his school also comes forward to say he overheard the son and another discuss, quote, the perfect murder. After a court case in 1995, the son is convicted to a sentence of 12 years for murder. His lawyers claim the cause of death could have been an unfortunate fall where Mary fell on top of the pen, which lodged into her brain. After the conviction, an ophthalmologist independently tests the crossbow theory, but concludes a small crossbow couldn't have been used because the pen would have fractured while it was found in the victim's skull intact.

Another ophthalmologist carried out the same test and found a small crossbow could not shoot a big pen into a human skull without being fractured. And then in parentheses, he did this using actual human heads from cadavers. Jesus. That's horrifying. Yeah. Okay, so after these findings, the son, who's now in his 20s, was provisionally released. More research and testing is done, which experts say proves a fall could have resulted in the

injury scene. Apparently there was a similar case where somebody fell and impaled themselves on a pencil, which also completely disappeared into the skull without breaking. And then parentheses, I have a headache just thinking about it. I'm like plucking on my eyebrows right now. It's very, this one is, I guess, the trigger warning should have come way at the beginning because this is such a specific, like I things are so specifically terrifying and awful. On appeal in 1996, the son was acquitted because of lack of evidence.

And the therapist was called to the stand again on appeal. She claimed doctor patient privilege. Not with that. Yeah. Not before. All this is to say, in some cases, ballpoint pens can be deadly. Thanks for your great podcast. Your style partly inspired my own very niche war crimes and international justice podcast

called asymmetrical haircuts. Yes, yes, yes. Truth in naming. I love it. Are you okay? Carrots are losing it. What the fuck? That is so funny.

It's so funny. That's the funniest name. It is. Sorry. It's. Everyone go listen to asymmetrical haircuts. You know, you know, sometimes I skim these so that they can be a surprise to me too. And that part really surprised me.

Stay sexy and don't fall on your ballpoint pens, Stephanie. I mean, that is horrific in so many ways. It really is. And it's also this thing that I think comes up in, in true crime stories a lot. And I think maybe now, now more because of modern forensics and stuff is this thing of like, of look into the science of what happened to make sure that someone isn't going to jail because like in the worst case scenario, which is their mother died in a terrible accident and now they're going to jail.

Yeah. I have a, yeah. That's, that's totally crazy. Wow. Horrifying. Yeah. Very. I have some.

This also reminds me. You what? I have so many thoughts on that. And I can't keep them straight because I'm just so blown away. Because it's so creepy. Well, can I tell you my thought is that this reminds me in third grade. I'll never forget this because I witnessed it with my own eyes on the playground. It was after school and for some reason, two of, I'd say the most popular boys at Wilson

school, Jimmy Martin and Billy Bertolucci were standing on the playground, throwing a pencil back and forth at each other and like arcing it up into the air. And yes. And they were, they were pretty far away from each other. They kept backing up and throwing it. It was like, it was a 70s, like it was like a PSA of like, here's what you do not do except for stuff like this is what happens in the 70s. Boys.

And of course, and now I can't remember in my mind. I remember that it happened to Billy Bertolucci. One of them threw it. No. The other one went to catch it, turned his head and the pencil went into their ear. No. Yes. No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no.

And the whole thing, I just remember standing there and saw the whole thing happen. And it was just like, in my mind, I kind of was just like, yeah, that was probably going to happen. Like, you're throwing a pencil at each other. Can we get listeners right in the dumbest thing you witnessed as a child of other children doing your own children anonymously, you know, you don't have to out your kid. But just those things are like, well, what did you think was going to happen? Right?

I have two stories of stitch getting stitches in my face of like, yeah, what did you think was going to happen as a little kid? Wait, you got stitches in your face? Twice. As a little kid. What? Yes. Where?

One in my eyebrow. I have a little scar right here. And one in my chin from, believe it or not, the bottom of the kiddie pool at the local pool. Did you die? I didn't die. I rolled into the pool. I was like, this will be fine.

I saw some quote teenagers doing it, they're really like 12, rolling each other in and then they left. And I was like, oh, that looks cool. Clunked my fucking chin, bleeding into the water, which is always shark bait, gross. And then how to be restrained. I remember it to get stitches because I was losing my mind and my mom was holding my hand the whole time. It was just like.

Because it hurt so bad? I mean, because it's like you're in a hospital with someone coming at you with fucking sewing pencils and yes, yeah. And you're like, bitch, no, I don't care how much my chin is bleeding. I mean, when I got my ears pierced, I wanted them so bad when I was like four, I begged and I saw my watch my sister do it in the like pharmacy was where it was at. I got one done and they went to do the other one and I ran out screaming like a four year old.

I was like, no, maybe I saw her do it. They went to do it on me halfway through and then body piercings started happening and I was fine with it somehow. All right. That was next. That was okay. All right. This one's called I might be on the no fly list.

Hello at all. I'm listening to your latest episode about mace and I thought I'd like to share with you my own mace story in 2006 or so I was fresh out of college and moved to the mountains of Colorado to have a year of fun. The year turned into eight, but I don't regret a second of it. My story starts with a typical day of work as a Bellman slash ballet at a very large hotel in Snowmass Village, Colorado, Aspen specifically, while working, I was in the back while working.

I was in the back doing a quote key audit of all the key valet keys, making sure they had tags were on the appropriate peg were marked correctly and so forth. I came upon a set of keys with dozens of church keys and began to look through them. I really appreciate using the word and correct spelling of church keys being from a smallish city in Michigan and not really the most quote, worldly man. I wasn't sure what the pink cylinder dangling from the keys was or what it was for. I looked it over and I cannot tell you what I was thinking, but pressing the little handle seemed like the next step in my evolutionary process.

Soon, a spray came flowing forth and my eyes began to water. I put the keys back upon the pegboard and closed the door behind me as I walked out of the back office to get some fresh mountain air. Another eye story. Yeah. As I stood in our valet circle, I noticed people beginning to walk out of the double doors from our lobby. I saw my services manager ushering people out, but I was still oblivious to what was happening.

You see, the funny thing about our back office in our valet area was that the air handler for the entire lobby sat in the corner. When I closed the door behind me, I thought that was the end of the story, but the air handler had started to suck in all the fumes and was literally airing my mistake to the entire space. This is the post office fart story all over again. Now, I'm usually a very honest man, but once the fire department showed up, I wasn't about to say anything.

Speculation abound, terrorist attack, gas leak, biological weapon. Nope. Just a dumb ass 23 year old who had never seen a can of mace. Stay sexy and don't press the button just because it's a button, Corey. Corey, that is some of the best advice that you can give a person. Don't press buttons. Don't air just randomly press buttons because there's a button. No, don't do it.

No, it's only trouble unless you're in an elevator and even then careful with those numbers. That's gotta be on a shirt somewhere. Well, wait, if he maced himself a little wouldn't like, wasn't he the one standing there with bright red eyes? But everyone was at that point. I think. Oh, true.

He blended in perfectly. Yeah. Who does that? What's happening around here? Terrorist attack. It must be. Terrorist attack. And a small ski down.

Okay. This one. Okay. I won't read you this subject line. Hi, Karen and Georgia. I just want to start out by saying I love you. I love the podcast and I love the pets. Thank you.

Great start. My mom and I are huge fans. Hi, mom. And she has been waiting for an interesting murder to quote unquote suddenly occur just to email it to you both. Don't, please don't. Don't wish for that. Yeah.

We both listen. You can email. What you need to tell your mom is that she can email about pretty much anything in the world at this point. Truly. Doesn't have to be about. Yeah. Truly.

We both listen every Monday and Thursday. So it's not convenient listening to gruesome murders on the way to pulling out to my Christian middle school. But I still love you both. Oh, she's a middle school. Little baby. This is a middle school? Oh, honey.

Or is it a person who founded their own middle school? Oh my God. They, they open their own. I own a middle school and make a ton of money. Oh, it's Christian. Okay. Any, anyways, moving on. So hotel Galvez hotel Galvez is located in Galveston, Texas, sort of near the seawall.

Oh, no, that, you know, that's you all down by the seawall. That wall. Yeah. Yeah. Down there. I first heard of this story from my mom, but I did some extra research to make sure I wrote this correctly. Good job.

Audra, couldn't find her last name, was a 25 year old bride to be in the 1950s. She was engaged to a Mariner who would often leave her alone while he was out sailing. Whenever this Mariner ship was due to port, Audra would go to room 501. It has been said before that she would also rent the room. She would choose to go to room 501 because it was in particular proximity to the elevator, which she would use to access the ladder. Audra would climb the ladder to the rooftop and spend her time there while her soon to be newly wed was away at work.

After a violent storm, Audra was informed her fiance would not return because his ship was capsized. Overcome with fear, despair and heartbreak, Audra hung herself on the hotel's west turret. To make matters worse, a couple of days later, Audra's fiance returned. He had somehow survived the storm and was eager to see his beautiful wife. While waiting for his soon to be bride, he was told that she had previously just died by suicide. Years later, guests visiting the hotel say they can feel a cold chill overcome them.

Others report doors slamming shut and some have even reported lights flickering. There have been more reports such as televisions turning off with no explanation. And like I said, there was more. But I'm too lazy to tie the rest of your come to the right place sweetheart. Well hello. So that was the story of the infamous Hotel Galvez. So while it wasn't a vicious murder, I still thought it was a pretty interesting story. Thank you for taking the time to make the best podcast I've heard.

And thank you for being so close to your fans. I hope you found this somewhat interesting and I really hope you guys haven't read the story before because sometimes my mom listens without me. Oh my god. Rue. Rue. How do you expect to raise a child of merit? Oh dear.

Thank you both so much again. Three exclamation points. Much love Jen in parentheses. My mom and Julia in parentheses. Me. Julia. Thank you Julia. Look.

That was beautifully written and I love that story because it's like a ghost origin story. That was so good. So sad. 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.

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Hey, I'm Aresha. And I'm Brooke. 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. Here's one that's, there's my last one. And they said murder would be the worst outcome is the name of it. And they said murder would be the worst outcome.

That's how I'm supposed to say it. Yeah, it starts Karen and Georgia. I apparently live under a rock and that rock is called Central Illinois. This one's really sweet. Actually, I love this one. I, it took to being held prisoner in my own home, aka quarantine to start quarantining, to start listening to your podcast. And now I am obsessed, it says, but not in a creepy obsessed kind of way.

Small backstory on myself, I have grown up in and still live in a small and very conservative hometown. I have known since childhood that I wasn't attracted to men, but coming to terms with knowing you're a gay in any incredibly religious town also comes with along with feelings and fear and disappointment in yourself. I, I myself have always believed in and still believe in a higher power, but it took this experience to come along for me to be like, okay, those you love the most in this world need to know the real you.

This, and it reminds me of fortune fosters beautiful standup special. What's it called? Sweet and salty. Sweet and salty. It's a funny story. I'm so inspiring. And I think everyone needs to listen to it. Don't read it as I was going to say.

Nice plug. She'll enjoy that. I love her. After many failed attempts at dating men, because the younger me had truly hoped that my feelings would change, I decided to try one last ditch effort and be matched with someone online. We're talking early 2000s e-harmony situation. I knew I needed to be so incredibly careful because we've all seen online horror stories,

but I was as honest as I could be with my personal likes and dislikes. The end goal to maybe have a successful relationship with a man. After submitting my profile, I stepped away from my computer for the rest of the evening. I went to bed that night praying that if a heterosexual relationship was truly what God wanted for me, that this last effort decision be the answer to my prayers. The following morning, I was excited and nervous because I received an overnight match that shared 98% of interest with me. In eager anticipation, I clicked on this gentleman's profile, and although his picture wasn't

a close-up, he looked oddly familiar. I know at this point in the story, most murdering are hoping that would be some well-known psycho, but alas, it was a nice young man who happens to be in quite a few of my family photos. My cousin, Matt, turns out we do have quite a few things in common, the most important being a set of grandparents. It was at that point that I knew that God or maybe my own inner big girl voice was finally telling me that I am enough and to move on.

Fast forward to 10 years later, and although I'm still quite closeted, I am out to those I truly want to know and finally feel a sense of peace within myself. I even took motherhood in my own hands. With the help of a donor, I have the world's coolest eight-year-old son. I made sure to use a cryo bank from incredibly far away because I couldn't risk my child's donor being a cousin as well. Thank you, ladies, for the crazy stories and endless laughter. Your big hearts and acceptance of others are what this world needs more of.

Stay sexy and don't let online dating sites set you up with family members, Cory. Cory, what a beautiful story to share that's so personal, but then also hilarious. I mean, that's proof God exists. It's just like you just got what you prayed for with your cousin showing up. It's like, here's the best you can hope for, Cory, and I just love that it's like, God is yours too. Higher power is yours too, and that you don't let anyone fucking take it away from you. The God's rules are not your rules.

It's not God's rules either. It's man-made. Also, I wonder if Cory is older because I just feel like it's when people like you Central Illinois or you live in a small town or you live in an ultra-conservative area or something like that, you get served up this idea of what you have to do based on what your family believes, what school you go to or whatever, and that idea that it's what's inside you. It's what you know to be true is what your heart wants.

So this last one, the subject line is, so are we doing St. Joseph's statue stories now? Okay. Hi, all. I'm just going to start this as if I have not written in a bunch of hometowns before that have not been read. Bitter right off the bat. Fucking so bitter.

Yes, I absolutely support it. It says, don't worry, no hard feelings, bullshit, we read that for a sentence. We know how you feel. My family doesn't have any good murder stories, apparently, but we do have a St. Joseph's statue story. Good. All good. Everything is accepted.

Here we go. My parents were trying to unload a real piece of shit house. My parents were trying to unload a real piece of shit house with foundation issues and groovy, bright, orange, shag carpet in the early 90s. Yeah, it were. The house was not selling, so devout Catholics that they were, my parents decided to bury the old St. Joseph's statue and then in parentheses, I can't confirm if it was glow in the dark, but I do know burying him upside down is key.

Okay. Close parentheses. They said a novena to St. Joseph, bonus fact. They had both prayed this novena at the same time, not knowing the other was also praying for a spouse. Oh, I don't get it, but oh. Basically they believe they met because they both prayed to St. Joseph to find a husband and a wife.

Cute. Me, cute. Yeah. And they got that sentence structure later. You're mad at this person. At the end of the novena, they started, oh, sorry, here's the rest of the story. At the end of the novena, they started dating and quickly were engaged. Well, just like their relationship, St. Joe pulled through because at the end of nine

days, a kooky, almost unearthly lady showed up offering to buy the house in cash. Wow. Their parents couldn't believe it, but they were scheduled to move into our new house in a couple of days and they didn't ask questions. They kept in touch with their old neighbor who told them that the lady never moved in, but had turned it into a bird and animal sanctuary. Oh, dream life. What's up?

Was she an angel? Was she just a crazy lady? As far as our family concerned, she was both. Stay sexy and pray to St. Joseph. That's it. Oh, I was hoping for a whole rundown of her wardrobe and her lawn care tricks and tips. She's just dressed like a bird. She is just in a big bird costume.

I'm wearing her shirt. I have this like, I have a blanche from Golden Girls, colorful shirt on, and I feel it's a grandma's shirt for sure. He's probably came with pants that matched, you know, with elastic waist. Because that it has a sizable collar. And so I'm seeing some bell bottoms that went with that. Absolutely. In the same material.

Yeah. So I feel like kindred spirits. Wow. That was great. Nice batch, everybody. Nice batch, everybody. That was a great batch. You guys are knocking it out of the G.D. Park.

Yeah. Yeah. Thank you for your participation. If you want to hear one more from each of us, go to the fan cult. We're now reading fan cult only sent in hometowns. One extra every week. And it's called the mini mini. That's right.

And there's videos. I believe that. And there's a forum and there's all kinds of places to just get extra content. Yeah. Don't you love content? Content creators. It's what we are. High five content creator.

That's right. All right. Well, stay sexy and don't get murdered. Goodbye. Elvis, do you want a cookie? Yeah.