My Favorite Murder with Karen Kilgariff and Georgia Hardstark - MFM Minisode 231 - Natural Disasters

Episode Date: June 14, 2021

This week's minisode is a compilation of hometowns that feature all kinds of natural disasters. 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. Let's see, it's truly criminal. Hello and welcome to my favorite murder, the miniser. It's cute.

It's short. It's little. Don't worry about it. And we'll read you your stuff. Ready? Uh, okay. This is just concise, tightest intro we've ever done for ourselves. Ever, ever done.

Let's talk about it for a little bit. This is unbelievable. What we just did now is the opposite of what we usually do, which is what I'm doing now. We usually just talk and talk and like we talk about, you know, what's up with our week and everything. Not this time, up and down, your boyfriend gets upset, but not this time. We're right to the, because really, at the end of the day, what do you think about it? Okay, ready for this one?

Always. Uh, subject line is, sinkhole tried to take my baby and avoiding cults. I've been, no greeting whatsoever. Right, I love it. You don't need one. I've been meaning to send in my sinkhole story and was sparked to pause catching up on the latest episodes after hearing you mention the garbage eating cult. I met them.

Sorry, I was catching up because I spent two weeks in the woods and listening to MFM in the woods is scary as fuck. And I know I shouldn't have even been in the woods in the first place surrounded by dusty white people, but I, but I need my nature therapy onto the stories. Okay. My cult story. When I was doing my second attempt at college, a group of friends invited me to a free dinner fucking red flag, red flag, no, there, there's no such thing as free dinner, lunch or breakfast.

Only this is me talking about the email. And also that's every cult in the world is religion is like, come to our mixer, spaghetti dinner. Shaky cheese, spaghetti dinner. I'd be there in one second if I was like 23 and that's how they get you. Okay. So we're back in the email now. Okay.

When we got there, it was packed with people and they were serving up typical Midwest hot dish. Oh my God. Hey, vegan and meat option. Why I remember this. Who knows? Right away, I got really weird vibes from this dude who had organized the meal and had his little crew with him.

They started talking Jesus stuff and how all the food was free from the dumpster. Oh my God, that's not what you want to say. I laid it out of their fast because of bad vibes, gross dumpster hot dish and I was so over Jesus. I had no idea it was a cult recruitment until I heard your episode. I don't know if anybody from school officially joined them, but I know that they held a number of dinners and a few of my friends really got into going to them. I feel like my school was too into partying hard to join their cult, but I do know people

really got into the idea of dumpster diving free food and not paying rent by squatting all over town and campus. That's how they get you. The glamorous life, Sheila E. Okay, now we're back. My sinkhole story, sorry, there's no second. A few weeks after my first daughter was born, we had to go to a midwife to check up appointment. We were broke as fuck, didn't have a car, so in the dead of summer I had to walk with my new baby a mile to the bus stop.

When the bus finally came, I was dying for some bus air conditioning, but a guy got off through the front door halting my entrance and I remember thinking, dude, you're supposed to get off the back door. There's a system here, but being a typical midwesterner, I said nothing and just shamed him in my mind. Anyway, after he had gotten off the bus, we stepped on and heard a loud crash behind us. We turned around and the sinkhole where we were just standing, oh, the sidewalk where

we were just standing was gone and so was the dude. A sinkhole had opened up and swallowed him. The bus driver radioed 911 or whoever, told them what happened, someone on the bus was like back up the bus, it could open wider, and I was like, get me and my new baby off this bus. We all got off the bus and could hear the man screaming in the sound of water rushing to fill the hole. We tried to yell at him that help was on the way, but he couldn't hear us and just kept

screaming. It was all so unsettling to say the least. The taxi services finally showed up and was able to get him out. He was all bloody, but able to walk and was taken away in an ambulance. Like a jerk, I can't help but think if he had just followed the rules and gone off the back of the bus, maybe he wouldn't have ended up in that hole. My mom later said that if we had been the ones who had ended up in the hole, we would be rich with settlement money.

I was just going to say, but yeah, that guy got a fucking big settlement from the city. I guess that's where I get my A-hole ideas. Oh my. That's right. It's usually hereditary. Hope you like my non-murder and everybody lives stories. Lastly, I just want to say thank you for bringing to attention your struggles, mental health, addiction, eating stuff, et cetera.

It feels like healing. That's so nice. Also thank you for talking about what's happening to Native American indigenous women, people in this country and in Canada, being a member of the community and working for it for a number of years. I unfortunately have more than one story of someone I know who was murdered. I don't think I will ever be able to write those stories in an email, but I am grateful that you two have helped give voice to the victims.

It feels kind of awkward to send a fangirl letter, but I love you guys so much, SSDGM Tessa. Oh, that was a lovely, lovely email, Tessa. I feel like we have to really quickly give credit to the podcast, Missing and Murdered, because they are the ones who are doing incredible work on the indigenous people and God, the 60s sweet man. That turns out to be the, everyone listened to Missing and Murdered. Missing and Murdered and, well, I think because we did talk about Wind River, but that idea

that that is like based on the fact that indigenous women get murdered and there, this crazy rate and none of them get solved. No one works on them and none of them get solved. So yeah, we could definitely be doing more and we've barely done what like lots of other podcasts have done, but as long as everyone talks about it, we can all talk about it together. That's right. Thanks, Tessa. Dear Karen, Georgia and Co, this isn't a murder story, but does fall under some of your categories

of interest, namely bad-ass grandparents, survival stories and flash floods. In the summer, all our favorites, flash floods are our interest, they are now. They are now. No, it's true. It's just, you know, one more thing to put on the dating profile. In the summer of 1976, my grandparents, who by the way, Karen, she gave us their names and they live up to the hype, Irvin and Nancy Irvin, not enough Irvins anymore. Irvin, wait, is this story about Magic Johnson?

All right. They had driven up to Estes Park, a small mountain town in Colorado to go to their regular square dancing group. Of course. My question. I know. The way my grandpa used to tell it on the way home, a huge thunderstorm developed over the mountains and the night was, quote, blacker than the inside of a cow.

Irvin. Irvin. Irvin. You old bullshitter you. It was the kind of western state summer thunderstorms that are so intense that windshield wipers can't move fast enough to see clearly out of the windshield. Mm-hmm. Eventually, they had to pull over.

They stayed in the car until a man started banging on their window and yelling at them to get out of their car and head for higher ground. Oh, shit. My grandparents ended up having to climb the steep canyon walls in their square dancing outfits in the pitch dark and pouring rain. I can fucking picture it now. Shit. Yeah.

Swing your partner up the hill. And dozee down. And dozee down. As they climbed a huge wall of water came down the canyon and swept away cars, houses, and parts of the road. Eventually they had found a group of other people who had climbed up the canyon and took shelter in a van. They spent the night that way, stranded and waiting for the morning to be rescued.

Down on the plains, my 19-year-old mom and her older brother had no idea what happened except that their parents were supposed to be driving back through the flash flooded canyon and they hadn't arrived home. Ooh. They waited out most of the night with their own grandmother until finally getting a call late the next morning that their parents had been rescued by a helicopter and taken to one of the local high schools. The Big Thompson flood was one of the worst natural disasters in Colorado history.

The storm that caused it dumped 12 inches of rain over the canyon in four hours. That's a foot. Huh? That's a foot. You're fucking right. 12 inches? That's not right. 12 inches is a foot.

Did she mean 12 feet? No. She had to mean it. I don't know. That's almost the yearly total of rain. I don't think they could. I don't think you could rain 12 feet in four hours. I don't think.

But 12 inches of rain is like up here. And you're like, calf. Well, I bet it's enough. I don't think California, you guys. We don't. Rain is cute here. Listen, listen. You can do a flood.

I think of 12 inches of rain is plenty to do a flood. Well, a flood doctor, please email us and tell us what is a lot of rain. Yep. That seems like a ton. Great. But they do say that that's almost a yearly total of rain for the area in what that they got it all in one night. Oh, shit.

They weren't able to handle it. No. On top of that, in the steep canyon, all of the water that fell on the hillsides collected in the Big Thompson River, which is why the flood was so swift and devastating, 143 people died and many homes were destroyed. Some of the cars were washed down the river and were only identifiable by their VIN number. The sediment in the water had completely stripped off the paint. Wow.

Shit. My grandparents' car was never found. In 2006, three years before she died, my grandma got to meet the man who saved their lives, the guy who banged on the window. Really? Butch Hutchins. Of course, that's his name. He said he had stayed away from the flood memorials because he was afraid to learn that he could

have done more. Oh. But it's because of him that I got to meet both my grandparents, SSDGM, Maya. Wow. Butch Hutchins. Butch. Was that the name? Butch Hutchins.

Butch Hutchins and Nancy and Irvin. My best friends. See, you know what? It's true. We don't take, like, because flooding doesn't affect us that much, it is hard to imagine, but like the idea that cars were like unrecognizable and like that's, I mean, that's, don't make me say that's the power of water. You don't need, you don't need 12 feet.

So you're the water doctor. That's what you're saying. It's me. Ask me. Ask me. AMA water. My, um, do you know my first boyfriend died in a flash flood? No.

Yeah. That's real sad. It's horrible. I know. Well, he was, we were, we weren't together. I was, you know, I was like, like, young at the time when he dated, but then we got older as you do. And he went off to go to college and he and his best friend just got caught up in a flash

flood, swept under a fucking semi and died. He was such a wonderful person. It's really tragic. That's horrible. Mike Lewis, we met at Jewish camp. Oh, it's sad. Oh, it's so sad and people die on. I know.

Okay. Okay. Ready for more about stuff? Always. Cool. This, um, this has all the things I like in it. Okay. That's this one.

Okay. You know, it, this title gives it away. Hi friends. Earlier this year, I was riding in the car with my boss and the mayor of the tiny town in Tennessee where I work. Oh, that's fun. Wait, the boss and or is the boss, your mayor is your mayor, my boss and the mayor of the tiny.

It sounds like there's three people in the car. I would assume. Yeah. There were three. They were driving me around, showing me all the sites and sharing some old Southern gossip. I was pretending to be interested. Then somehow sinkholes were brought up and the mayor began to tell me this story.

I had to force myself to listen and actually get the details because all my brain was yelling was, Oh my God, Karen would love the story. So here goes. A few miles outside of the town where I work is a historic farm called Rock Rest Farms. In 1902, a man by the name of Elijah Creek bought the 630 acre property and built a stage coach in that served travelers along the Nashville to Louisville Pony Express line. There were many rumors about Elijah's origins. He claimed to be from an island in the Mediterranean off the coast of Spain, but this story was

widely disbelieved. Regardless, the other local people found Elijah to be super creepy. Francois Michaud, the French naturalist, wrote in his diary in 1802 about his stay at Cheeks Inn, quote, fearing that I should witness some murdering scene. I quickly took my leave and put up in an inn about three miles further on, end quote. That was trust as intuition. Yeah. That's right.

That's how the French are. Yeah. They know how to make good wine. And they listen to their gut. It's hard. They're very thin. Francois's gut wasn't wrong. Rumor had it that Elijah would rob and kill the guests in the caves behind the inn where

they would store cold foods in the underground stream. These rumors were never confirmed and Elijah died of natural causes in 1818. It's not known exactly when, but at some point after Elijah's death, the caves were searched for signs of the murders. Some jewelry and some small bones were found, but no bodies. So jump ahead to me in the car with the mayor and he tells me the mayor, it's like, uh, this person's bragging. Yeah.

Like I hung out with the mayor for the day. Like that's a really impressive, awesome thing. I mean, when have I hung out with the mayor? Never. You fucking never don't even act. Don't even front like you've hung out with a mayor like this person because you haven't. Okay. So jump ahead to me in the car with the mayor and he tells me that about 20 years ago,

there's a massive flood and during that flood, there's all kinds of themes in this year. Yeah, for sure. A massive flood and during that flood, a sinkhole located on the property filled completely with water, bringing to the surface a bunch of floating human bones. Oh my God. The bones were taken away and tested and found to be dated back to the 1800s. These are believed to finally be the discovered bones of several of Elijah Creek's victims. He would murder and rob his victims in the caves and dispose of the bodies by throwing

them down the sinkhole where they stayed hidden for nearly 200 years. Wow. A fun little fact, the stagecoach in Burn Down in 1847, the inn was rebuilt and was again destroyed by Union soldiers. In 1952, another barn on the property was burned down. Maybe the ghosts of Elijah Chieke's pissed off victims stuck around. Anyways, you guys feel like some of my best friends that I get to hang out with every day on my way to work, and when I heard this story, I knew I had to write in.

You were so right. Stay sexy and always check the sinkhole for bodies, Keelan. That had everything you love in it. The mayor hanging out with the mayor, driving around with the mayor, tiny bones, tiny bones, little tiny bit of treasure in a cave, and then 200 year old bones that actually prove an old theory that people were like, you must be insane and suddenly it's like in your face. The sinkhole, the sinkhole holds secrets, and one day the sinkhole flourishes those secrets.

What you're saying is, fill every sinkhole with water, and let's see how many bodies this might be one of my favorite stories. It's shit. It reminds me of the town on fire story. Really? Yeah. No matter what you say, now I'm going to say I don't like it. Okay.

Thank you. I didn't really like that one. I didn't like that one. Okay. This is called Poisonous Jell-O-Rain. Oh, shit. Hey, y'all. My grandpa is currently in the process of moving, so we've all been doing a lot of house

hunting. One place we found was in Oakville, Washington, south of Puget Sound. We didn't know much about Oakville, so we researched the town a bit to see what it's like. What we got was a very exciting and honestly perplexing surprise. Turns out Oakville is famous for the most bizarre weather anomaly I've ever heard of, gelatinous blob rain. What?

And I just want to say for the fucking record, aliens, I'm 100% behind aliens that this is the cause. Ready? I'd say local chemical company. Yeah, but let me- That's maybe- You got to hear the weird fucking things. No, no, I'm deciding already.

Too late. Okay. On August 7th, 1994, at about 3 a.m., the first bout of jello rain began to fall. It was clear, like normal rain, but much unlike normal rain, it was gooey to the touch. Oh, my God. It smeared in windshield wipers and looked vaguely like mushy hailstones on the ground. This unsettling precipitation fell six times over a three-week period and covered 20 square miles.

Oh, but that's not the weirdest part. Not only was this rain texturally fucked, but also those who came in contact with it fell very ill. They experienced shortness of breath, vision loss, vertigo, and nausea, which lasted for months for some. Several pets also died after being exposed to the goop. Cells of the Rangoo were tested and found to contain human white blood cells, two kinds of bacteria, and eukaryotic cells that suggest it was part of something alive.

But to this day, no one knows what the fuck fell from the sky. Theories include jellyfish bits blown to the air by bomb tests. Why would there be human DNA in it? Great question. It's a bio warfare experiment and waste from airplanes, but none of these fit perfectly. I'm calling aliens, they said. They said it. And I agree.

Needless to say, we were pretty unenthused about buying a house there after reading all that, but I was naturally fascinated and immediately thought to tell you folks about it. Smart. I got my info from the Unsolved Mysteries Wiki, and there are plenty of articles about it. If you want to check it out for yourselves, you can't make this shit up. Stay sexy and don't move to Oakville, Lila, from Seattle.

Ah, dude. Human. Fucking. That is blood cells. Oh, human blood cells, that's right, not human DNA. That is so unnerving. The consistency element of it is very upsetting. I want to know about this.

The bacteria has to be in, like I wonder where the bacteria has been seen before. I wonder what the hell eukaryotic cells means, and if I'm saying it right. So many questions. Kind of sounds like the Eucharist, like little, there's bodies of Christ amen in there. Yeah, Lila. Lila, great. Great job. Great.

Amazing. Great. What's it called? Instinct. On sending it into us. Guys. We want more like that. You know what you're doing.

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

led her down a dark path. Follow Even the Rich wherever you get your podcasts. You can listen ad free on the Amazon Music or Wondery app. Okay. This is an I survived plus a single story. Say whoa. Oh, Karen's like hello. Trifecta.

But with two things, Trifecta minus one, what do they call that, sleek, and it's a bifecta. Hello, Karen, George, Steven and all associated animals. Love it. I love that. That sounds like it's civic based. I live near the Indiana Dunes National Lakeshore, which is located on the southern tip of Lake Michigan. A very common pastime when spending a day at the beach is to run up and down the dunes.

I'm not entirely sure why that is as the sand is always hot as fuck. And have you ever tried to climb a sand mountain? It sucks. These dunes are known as living dunes because they move anywhere from a few, a few to upwards of 20 feet per year. Wow. One of the more famous dunes is called Mount Baldy and is over 120 feet tall. In July of 2013, six year old Nathan Wassner was visiting the dunes with his family and

went to climb Mount Baldy with his father when all of a sudden he fell into a sinkhole all caps. The dune literally swallowed him. Oh my God, nightmare. Nightmare. Apparently all the years of shifting had compromised the integrity of the surface and allowed for a giant ass boy swallowing sinkhole. His father and other beachgoers immediately tried to dig him out, but they could not see

or hear him and the sand was difficult to displace. First responders arrived and tried to use shovels to dig Nathan out to no avail. After a few hours, they were able to drive an excavator up the dune, start using that to dig, but they had to be extremely careful so as not to hurt Nathan with a giant metal claw digging thing. So progress was slow as they would have the excavator move a foot forward, dig around with their arms and shovels, then repeat the process for what I'm sure seemed like an eternity.

After what I'm sure seemed like an eternity, one of this first responders felt the top of Nathan's head and was able to pull him out. He was found in a standing position as if he had fallen down a narrow pipe. When he was pulled out, he was cold limp and didn't have a pulse, which wasn't terribly surprising since he had spent four hours buried in a sand sinkhole. That's fucking horrifying. But then as he was in the back of a lifeguard truck on the way to the ambulance, he first responder noticed that a cut on the top of his head had started to bleed.

His heart started beating again, he was rushed to a local hospital and then later airlifted to Chicago where it was determined that he had suffered no brain damage. And in fact, his only injuries appeared to be that cut on his head where someone nicked it with a shovel while they were digging and a scratch on his cheek. He has no memory of the incident, so he's not even traumatized, just the parents. No one knows how he was able to survive that long buried in the sand. Mount Baldi was closed for a few years afterwards, good, but they reopened it last summer with a big fence and warning signs around it saying that if you went inside the fence, you'd be

fined. Pretty sure the threat of getting buried alive inside a sand dune is more of a deterrent than a fine, but okay, stay sexy and away from sand dunes, Kim. That scares me so much. That's nuts. But the sand dune god angels saved him. Yes, they did. So can you imagine being this parent of like the longer they search, you're just like this

is looking for my kid's body. That is bananas that I have to admit, I read the first page of that. I did not read the second page and I was like, Stephen, you've got the whole world in your hands right now. I know. I'm like, what is? Because you know better than to lead us down the stony path of then the child just died in the sand.

Right. Right, Stephen. Sometimes we like that. He knows it. Well, true. It's like. It printed out that way too, so that made it probably worse. More dramatic.

It was like you had to turn the page. I was not expecting my kid to remain thin to live. I really wanted him to be in a hidden cave with the Egyptian treasure. It's crazy that he doesn't remember it because like, I wonder if he was just like off one another in another plane of existence. His whole interior was like, we're shutting all of us down for, we're going to hold for six hours and we're going to be right back online. You need us to knock us, give us a knock on the head with the shovel.

Just go ahead and dig into my head with the shovel. Fine. Okay. This my last one's called Kentucky Meat Shower. Oh, yeah. Karen, Georgia, Stephen, Vince and all the pets, all Vince, I was listening to the recent mini-soad where you shared about the Jell-O rain shower in Washington. And finally, I have a hometown to send you the story of the Kentucky Meat Shower.

Here we go. Back in March 1876 on a clear night in Rankin, Kentucky, Mrs. Couch, I never could find her name, only her husband's, Ugg, was outside minding her own business doing farming type things on her farm when all of a sudden chunks of meat started falling from the sky. The chunks were as small as a golf ball up to as big as a grapefruit. I'm sure this poor woman was freaking the fuck out. She was interviewed saying, the shower of flesh must have been a sign from God. Yeah.

Probably. What kind of sign? I don't know. Go inside. Stay inside. Finish your basement. Go inside. Finish your basement.

The next day, some random dudes came to the farm to investigate and said the mystery meat had the distinct taste of, quote, rancid mutton, which means they ate it, which means they ate it. Who tasted it? Which one? It's like the cocaine rubbing it on your tooth, but the meat shower tasted it. You just dab it under your tongue, each side, d-d-d, and it says, no, thank you. A scientist later studied a preserved sample and said it had to be some form of no-stick

or cyanobacteria that can fall when it rains, much like the story in the last hometown, which I pronounced totally wrong, by the way, in the last, I got so many tweets, but I don't care. But. Whoa. Whatever that's called. Sciencey pronunciations that I don't know. Oh, are you not a scientist?

Did you know I'm not a scientist? Wait, no, because you've really been acting like one this whole time. Yeah. And it's on my resume that I gave you with this podcast. It's smoking-fensive. The only problem with that theory is that it was a completely clear night. So it couldn't have been part of Lorraine. To add further confusion to the story, a later analysis of the tissue discovered it to be

either lung tissue from a horse. What? Or, all caps, a human infant. And then it says, apparently those tissues were indistinguishable back then, weird. So it's probably horse meat. It can't be a human infant. But. Okay.

Questions. Okay. Let me keep reading. So what actually happened, question mark, no one knows for certain. The favorite theory of locals in the area is that the meat from the sky was quite literally meat. They think vultures flying overhead must have disgorged their stomachs all at once to cause the chunks of meat to shower down.

They had probably previously chowed down on an animal carcass, hopefully. And poor Mrs. Couch was just incredibly unlucky that night. I've lived in Kentucky for more than half my life now and I love my weird and wonderful state, hoping to see you come through here again if the world stops ending. Thanks for keeping me sane, normalizing my true crime obsession and just generally being the best. SSDGM and watch for meat showers. Kayla.

Kayla. I need to know if you're going to say a meat shower in my mind, that means meat is going from as far as the eye can see to the right, as far as the eye can see to the left, back and forward. So if it's vultures throwing up, did it just come down within a 10-foot radius? Or was it just one person one? And then that's it? Who knows?

Yeah, because then there's so many theories you could start inventing about what that be from. But I imagined that it was like when you talked about the other one, that it's rain but other stuff. Rain goes everywhere. It doesn't just... No. I think it was just the meat.

And also, a biology major tell us if fucking horse meat and human infant meat are at all similar. Why, back in the 1800s, they would have confused the two. I have to say that I bet you the scientists that theorized that was like... The chances are, this looks a lot like horse lung to me. What if it was a baby? What if it was a baby? Oh my God!

And then the person that they worked with is still writing it down. Or it's like, no, no, no, no, don't write down everything I say. He's thinking it and accidentally writing it at the same time. You know when you do that? Oh yeah. That's gotta be like... He's writing what it probably is, then he accidentally wrote what he hopes it's not. Right.

What would be the best case scenario and the worst case scenario? Best case scenario and then when he will quit is when it comes back. But if this ever happens again and it's human infant, I'm out. I just need to know the range. I need to know the what by what did this fall in. Send us your fucking stories, please. They're so fun. They're so fun to read.

They're getting better by the moment. They really are. So good. I had so many good ones to choose from. You can send them to my favorite murder at Gmail. There's a place on the website to send them and in the fan cult as well. We love them. And come and be a part of things.

Listen and then get... Just find one noun that you can relate to your own life and that like many people did on this episode and then go, I finally have a reason to write in and write it in. That's right. And also you stay sexy and don't get murdered. Goodbye. Elvis, do you want a cookie?