My Favorite Murder with Karen Kilgariff and Georgia Hardstark - MFM Minisode 244

Episode Date: September 13, 2021

This week's hometowns include traysure hidden in pockets and a lesson in pretending to be a New Yorker. 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. We are on Zoom. That's Georgia Harster. That's Karen Kilgariff. We're killing it as always. Killing it digitally. We're filming this so if you want to look at our killing it faces, just go to the fan cult where we have a ton of videos including what's happening right now. And you know what's happening right now? Tell me. I organized all my I was going to say dittos. All my copies, all my stories put them down and and then realized

that I just have piles around me and I'm not sure what is what. Okay, that's old. All right, got it. Okay, this is the hometown. We're going to read you your stories. Send us in your hometowns, please. We need more. You want to go first? You want me to go first? Sure. All right. Okay. This hometown, the subject line is close call with a neighbor. Hi, fam. I've tried to write this story down concisely multiple times, but there's so much crazy shit that went on that it's hard to keep it short. Here's my best shot. It's all we ask. Right. Just try your best. Try your best. I lived in an apartment building in downtown Columbus, Ohio when I was 23. One night at 3am, I was awoken by the sound of someone trying to turn my lock and open my apartment door. I was

scared, but I figured it was just someone drunk or lost. I yelled through the door, hey, this isn't your apartment. To which the man through the door responded, I know, and continued trying to turn the lock. I started panicking and I yelled back if you don't leave, I'm calling the police. He then started slamming his body into my door as hard as possible, making my entire front hallway shake. Oh my God. I called 911 and luckily the police arrived in time to remove him from my door just before he could break it down. They told me he lived in the apartment below mine and he was just drunk and had gotten confused. I told the police that I had very clearly told him that he was in the wrong place and that he was being excessively aggressive, but they laughed it off. Well, my

little murdering old heart was still very paranoid, so I changed my lock, bought extra protection, and started doing some research. I found his name on the box in the mail room that was addressed to the apartment below mine and I Googled him. I found a horrible personal blog where he ranted about a lot of bullshit, but particularly his hatred of women and how he had an extensive gun collection. I also learned that he was a 220-pound ex-marine in peak physical fitness. There were so many red flags that I immediately alerted the apartment management group to his behavior online and off, and I petitioned to break my lease. They then informed me other women in the building had filed harassment complaints against him, but the apartment manager had talked to him and assured

me he was, quote, a sweet guy who was just going through a rough patch. That was enough for me. I moved out. However, before I moved, they put the unit on the market and they were doing some showings. One day, I opened the door for a showing and in all caps and in bold, the guy who tried to break in is standing there. I was shocked and I asked him why he was there and he said, I'm here for the showing. I slammed the door in his face and immediately canceled all future showings. He lived below me already in the exact same apartment layout. He had no reason to be there, except that he wanted to be in my apartment for some reason. He probably thought I didn't know what he looked like because he wouldn't have known that I'd found his name or Googled him.

Right. Love you. No name. Oh, my God. When you find yourself in a situation like that, where your neighbor is sketchy, it's like your entire life changes. It's awful. That's so scary. And the fact that multiple complaints, but nothing's actually done. Right. And as I was reading this one, I was like, I think I actually heard this on Let's Not Meet. And then I went, I'm sure this has happened so many times that it doesn't have to be the same person. This is the kind of shit that happens constantly. Oh my God. I'm glad they were able to break their lease. Yeah. And by the way, you don't have to allow showings while you're living there. I guess it depends on your city, but fuck that. Well, especially not if you're, yeah,

you should, that should happen. Usually apartment buildings have an empty apartment that they show. Yeah. It's just the same layout. They don't need to see your apartment. No, totally. Okay. This one's, I'm not going to reach you the thing. Hi, Karen, Georgia, Steven, and various menagerie. I'm a petite young girl now 20 in the countryside, all alone while my parents went to a friend's catfish farm. And then they say, I love the south. So flashback to my senior year of high school, 18 year old me is alone in my house in the middle of nowhere, southeast Arkansas, doing trig homework while listening to MFM. I have two beautiful dogs named Georgia and Einstein. Einstein is a little shit who will bark at anything, but I've only heard Georgia bark a

handful of times in the four years I've had her and it has never been aggressive barking. Oh, I can. Different from, different from my experience in the four years, in the four years. No, no, no, no, no. Come on. Come on. Come on, everyone. So I'm in my bedroom doing homework when I'm begins barking. I thought nothing of it until I heard the loudest, deepest growl and bark I have ever heard come from my sweet baby Georgia. Oh, instantly. Isn't that scary when the dog that right? That doesn't. Yes. The personality changes because the situation is different. Right. Instantly, I ran to the door thinking they're barking at a wild hog or other southern wildlife. A wild hog. Wait, wait, what? That's, that's something that comes to your door if you live

in the south. I fucking guess in rural Arkansas. Wild hogs. Can you imagine if you open your door one day and they had fucking Los Angeles and there was just a wild hog chilling? Remember the the feral hogs on cocaine? Remember that story? Yeah. I remember those sweet baby angels. Okay. Ba, ba, ba, ba, ba. Run to the door wildlife. As I round the corner, I see that my carport door was left open by my mother as she left the house and my dogs were growling and barking at the door. I look out the door to see a clean cut middle fifties man who I'd never seen before reaching for the screen door beat up old four trucks still running a few feet behind. Instantly, I go into fight or flight mode and start to plan my escape. It's casual. I lunch to the kitchen and

grab the loaded 45 handgun with crown hollow bullet points. Oh, big bullets that were everything apart and point it at the door. The man at the door takes a moment to look at me with a loaded weapon, my big angry pups and back at my loaded gun as if weighing his options. Slowly, he raises his hands and walks backwards to his truck peeling out of my long gravel driveway. After locking the door and giving my dog's treats, I call my parents. But of course, everyone knows there's no cell service at catfish farms. Everyone knows that. Don't be immature. A few hours later, my parents come home to me on the couch still holding the 45 staring at the door. After relaying the story to my parents, my mother says, Oh, the water meter guy was supposed to come today. I told him not to

come down to the house, the water meters at the top of our half mile long driveway. But I guess he saw your car and thought we were home. In short, get badass dogs and don't be afraid to make the water meter guy pee himself. SSTGM, hope. She pointed a 45 with hollow point ammunition in it at the water guy. I can't imagine in rural southern areas, this is the only time that's ever happened to him. Oh, I bet it happens constantly. So he knows back up, leave, come back another day. Yeah, it's like, you don't, yeah. Oh my God. I know. And then she's like, just tiny check too. Yeah, I mean, Jesus. Okay, so I'm not going to read you the subject line of this. It gives it away. It just starts today. It happened. I have a personal true crime story to share.

So I signed up for a trial on one of those genealogy websites. And because I was doing my research for my writing, and it made searching old news articles a breeze. This is not an ad. But seriously, it's great. That's why I changed the name, because that's absolutely an ad. Yeah. So we're not saying the name. Anyway, when I began exhausting all leads, I thought it'd be fun to search my surname, which is pretty rare. So I'm always interested to see what's out there. And this is where it gets wild. Now, as I said, my last name is rare, my family's pretty small, and I don't know much family history. And the family history that is known is mundane at best. So disappointing. I feel like the aim is to have mundane family history. I think that's

a good thing. Okay, one of the very first articles to pop up highlighted X murder, and I clicked fast. Now, I want to be upfront. I don't know exactly how I'm related to the following Shippard, but between the dates, locations, times of those involved, I know I'm related somehow. But he's not my great grandfather, I don't think. On to the grizzly tale. It's just a person typing doubts and, you know, thoughts that they have. Maybe that. Perhaps. Anyway, on July 19, 1943, an 11 year old boy took himself to the police station to report that his mother was missing, and she'd been missing for at least a day. When the boy's father turned up to make a report, he claimed she'd run away with a man who he did

not know. His story goes that he saw her get into a car with an unknown man in their driveway, as he watched through the basement window while he was doing work around the house. However, detectives became suspicious when they discovered that this man could not have seen his wife leave from their basement. It was logistically impossible. So he changed his story. However, the real nail in his coffin was when they discovered his wife's bloodstained glasses in the basement. They found other bloodstains throughout his home, including inside the laundry tub and on the clothes that he had been wearing the day before, on the day of her disappearance, although they were freshly laundered.

He tried to say the blood was chicken blood, but he was lying. It wasn't chicken blood, it's never a mannequin. When detectives were able to counter all of this man's lies, they were led to a cement sealed tomb in the family home. He broke down and admitted to hacking his wife to death with an ax because she had, quote, accepted the attentions of another man, and then he buried her body under the basement floor. By the trial, he was found guilty of first degree murder and sentenced to mandatory life in prison. Fun fact, during questioning, this man admitted that he'd done nine years in prison previously in his home country for robbing a priest. And then it says in brackets, sorry, that was so long, but I couldn't type it fast

enough. All the information given came from the Detroit Times, but unfortunately, they did not credit a journalist. Stay sexy and don't blame it on the chickens, Brie. Dude, that's in your family lore. What about her? In your family. What about her? Somewhere in there. Good. Yeah, I wonder. Intense. Maybe that kid is her great uncle or something, right? Like, something. No, that's awful. All right, now I want a mundane family, which I have. Yeah, exactly. My siblings and I got kidnapped.

Oh, hello, assorted humans and animals of MFM. My brother and sister and I were playing in a church parking lot near our house. We were probably around 10, 9 and 7, I being the middle one. Why we were playing in a church parking lot unattended while our mom was at our house, I'll never know. And it wasn't like this was a different time or whatever people say to excuse negligence. This was like 2002. Yes. Proving us wrong. Anyways, we were all playing in the parking lot, making fun with literally nothing somehow. And we found some kittens in the garden. We put them in a box and we were going to take them home when a truck pulled up in the church driveway and a man climbed out. My memory is too great,

but I remember him saying that he had the mother cat back at his house and would be like to see her. Hmm. This guy got all caps, all three of us kids to climb into his truck in broad daylight. Oh, shit. I remember him saying he knew our dad and we could call our mom to check if it was okay if we wanted. Because it's 2003 and they all have cell phones and things like this aren't supposed to be happening anymore. Hold on. My older sister said, yes, we should call her, but the cell phone he gave her didn't work. Oh, so it was like this trick. Like this is like clearly, of course I want you to call. Yeah. Yeah. Oh, well, she thought and we all got in the truck. At least he let us try. That means he's not a murderer. That's that phone that actually never had a battery or a SIM

card in it that was handed to me as proof that this is a good person. That's right. He must know our dad. My mom happened a glance out of the window of the house and since the church parking lot was visible, she saw three out of her four kids climb into a stranger's truck. You fucking imagine. She freaked out and followed the truck in her car. Turns out he lived only a couple kilometers away. Once we got to his house, she dragged us all back into her car and proceeded to yell at us about getting into this guy's truck. That's right. I don't know what she said to him, but man, we got an earful on the way home. Yeah, you did. But it's not their fault. This man. Yes, it is. Stop it. It's 2003. Stop yelling at the kids about it. Well, because she has to make

sure they never do it again. Sure. But also this man, I don't think she called the cops or anything on this guy. To this day, she doesn't think he was a weirdo or that we all got kidnapped. But clearly that's exactly what happened. She thinks he was a nice guy trying to show us his cat. No, wait. Sorry. I'm sorry. I was wrong. I thought she was saying like the kids should be yelled at for sure. Yes. But that man should be yelled at the most by the police. Exactly. And all the authorities and people should be investigating why he needs help from little children in a church. In 2002, like this kind of thing you could get away with in the 80s, let's say. You can run for mayor on it in the 80s. Damn. It was a time on our tradition back then.

That's right. Makes you smart. Okay. And I still see his truck sometimes. So that's not great. SSDGM. So that's not great. Is the understanding. Perhaps one of my favorite endings to an email we've ever gotten. I think so. That is really creepy. He kidnapped you. Play this for your mom and tell her that we say this man tried to kidnap you. Figure out a way to get into his house. Figure out. Nancy drew this shit. What am I saying right now? What am I inciting? We have to be responsible. Myself as well as you. I'll try. Don't break into your old neighbor's house if you suspect. No. But maybe put a tracking device on his car secretly. Yeah. Just maybe get some kind of a spyware downloaded onto his laptop. Or put a billboard up. This

man tried to kidnap me as a kid. You know. That's right. Yeah. Just yeah. Accusations in a small town. Yeah. No big deal. Looking for a better cooking routine? With meal planning, shopping, and prepping handled Hello Fresh has you covered. Hello Fresh makes home cooking easy and affordable so you can stay on track and on budget in the new year. Hello Fresh meals are convenient, seasonal, and delicious. Stay cozy all winter long with classic comfort foods available weekly. Why stop with just dinner? Now you can enjoy Hello Fresh's expanded menu of quick lunch solutions, weekend brunch, simple side dishes, and amazing desserts. Karen January is going to be my month for Hello Fresh. I am so sick of takeout. I miss cooking so much I haven't lifted a knife or a pan

since like early fall. So I can't wait to get back in the kitchen and Hello Fresh makes it so easy and also makes it so that my food tastes good, which is hard to do on my own. It gives you everything, everything you need. So get up to 20 free meals with purchase plus free shipping on your first box at hellofresh.ca slash murder20 with code murder20. That's up to 20 free meals plus free shipping on your first box when you go to hellofresh.ca slash murder20 and use code murder20. Goodbye. 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. The headline or the subject line of this is I did the best I could. I lived in NYC right before

the world ended. I was fresh out of college and working at a hotel on Wall Street and then in parentheses, oh, the things I witnessed. Oh dear, at that. Wall Street. Damn. Where all the cocaine comes to play. I mean, it snows cocaine in Wall Street all year long. I had to get to work super early, so early that my usual subway wasn't running often enough, so I had to leave even earlier to get to work on time. I'm talking 4 a.m. Yak. Not cool. One particular morning, I had to take a different train because my needed maintenance or some shit. I was on the platform waiting for the train to come and I noticed that there was another person down the way a little bit and I didn't think much of it since it's New York and I was not really conscious since it was so early. They

end up boarding in the same car that I go into. The dude ends up sitting across from me diagonally. I noticed he's looking at me and I smile politely and then it says in parentheses, I did not yet know that New Yorkers don't do that. I've never learned that. You can see I'm from out of town when I go there. I'm just fucking happy and shit. Yeah, no. I look back down at my phone and in my peripherals, I see that he is scooting closer to me so that he is now sitting right in front of me. I glanced up and he is still staring at me smiling. I look back down and started to panic. There's no one else in the car, just me and this dude. Then he gets up and sits on the same side of the car as me, but a couple of spaces away, still staring at me. Then he starts

scooting closer to me and I'm really freaking out, but I literally did not know what to do. I had that horrible gut feeling that things weren't right. I wish I could say that I kicked him in the balls or told him to fuck off or something cool, but I couldn't even comprehend what was happening. When he was right next to me, I finally mustered up the courage to stand up and as I did so, he lunged at me trying to grab me. I turned and looked straight into his eyes and gave him the dirtiest, meanest look that I could make and I walked across the car to the other side. I have no idea how that worked, but he looked so shocked and almost scared that I actually reacted and when the train came to a stop, I ran out and literally panic sprint walked the rest of the way to work,

despite it being freezing cold and three stops too soon. I know it's not the most badass of stories and I always thought that I would take action or be able to defend myself, but I didn't. I froze. For a while, I was so disappointed in myself, but now I'm just glad that I did something at all. It taught me that even if it seems like you can't do anything, if you just at least try to snap out of that freeze moment, it could make a difference. Just the smallest amount of gumption can go a long way. I love you guys and thanks for empowering all of us. I'm so proud and inspired by y'all and I hope you're doing okay. Stay sexy and do what you can, Meggie. Meggie, I love that. I do too.

That's so true because you feel guilty. That flight or flight thing is so terrifying that every moment you're going to act like a fucking badass or like a fucking politeness person, but you got to do what you can do. Yeah, it makes perfect sense that you, of course, you don't know what to do. This is a situation you've never been in. Someone is breaking the social contract, which makes you panic. Someone is coming into your personal safety zone, which is not good. Yeah, everybody doesn't have that in them to immediately beg. Back the fuck up, motherfucker, which is like, but I bet you after Meggie lived in New York for one more year, she saw enough stuff or she's like, now I know what to do. I'm going to do some impressions of

women in New York and get myself right out of this. She's completely and exactly right. Yeah. Do something. You did something. Yeah. You turned around and looked this person in the eye and were like, do not fuck with me. Pretend to be a New Yorker. Even if you can't really be a New Yorker, we can all pretend. That's right. That's right. Yeah. Great job, Meggie. Good job. All right. This one is my last one. It's a little bit long, but it's worth it. And this is actually sent from the fan cult. And you can hear more many, many episodes in the fan cult, but I really love this one. So I wanted to do it in the main episode in the Maxi in the Maxi. All right. I'm not going to reach the subject line, but she says I really hate the subject line,

but I feel like I'm on a first date or something. Like, how do I say something wonderful without sounding like the socially awkward child I feel like? So we understand. Anyway, here goes. Hey, y'all love all of you and the animals. I tell you, I love hearing about the pets because I've had to say goodbye to all mine except my parakeet in the past few years. It's tough, but it turned out to be a blessing in disguise. Very long story, but one day I'll write a fucking hooray if this nightmare that's 2021 ever ends. We're only a couple months away. We'll get there. They're like the government announces that they're adding four months to 2021. No. Double Christmas. Oh, okay. So when I was growing up, we were considered poor. There were months when

the lights would be turned off or dad would have to pawn something like his beloved guitar to pay the light bill. We were fortunate to have grandparents who had a family farm, so we never went without food. To clothe us, my mom sewed most of our quote, outfits, but we also shopped at garage sales. One Saturday when I was in seventh or eighth grade, we went to a garage sale in a nicer neighborhood and I found a gray skirt that would go with everything. We were driving my dad 76 Nova that had ruined a ruined paint job from eggs being thrown at it. And then it says dad was an educator and kids are jerks. Can you, I didn't know eggs ruin paint jobs and that fucking sucks, man. Can I just add that there's another potential line that could go with that, which is dad was

a mean teacher. Dad didn't put up with any shit in the classroom, which incited rebellion. That's right. I looked rough because well, junior high. It was also late afternoon. We've been doing yard work most of the day. I held up the skirt and showed my mom that it had pockets and was only 50 cents. I know my mom brand and asked the lady if I could try it on somewhere because she didn't want to spend that much on something that might not fit me. The lady and let me go into the house and try on the skirt. It fit perfectly and I remember putting my hands into the pockets and twirling around for a minute because that bedroom with the mirror was fancy and I deserved it. That's right. Mom asked the lady if she'd take 25 cents for the skirt and the lady said she would.

Then we handed it and a few other items to her. She said she was going to get us a bag and took the clothes for a minute and then gave them back in a paper bag. When I got home, I put the skirt and the clothes basket to wash, but I have a habit of always checking my pockets first. There was a rolled up $20 bill in the right pocket. No. Ready to cry? Yep. I gasped as I took it out and showed my mom. She started to cry and I was like, we have to take this back. This is a lot of money. They didn't know it was in. And then I realized you're fucking legit crying right now. Oh yeah. I'd already checked the pockets twice. The lady must have put the money in there when she put it in the bag. Maybe it was a charity case. Maybe a blessing from above. Most likely,

just a kind person who saw folks who needed a small break. Because if you're trying to negotiate down from 50 cents, that lady's like, holy shit. Totally. We were able to buy gas the next day and actually put $5 worth in the car. I usually just did $2 at a time. I'll never forget the kindness this woman showed. I hope she received some blessings for that gift. When I hate people, which is almost always, because when I hate people, which is almost always because menopause, I can look back on memories like this and find faith in humans again. Not all of them are evil. Some are true gems and I've been lucky to cross paths with a few. I wouldn't trade my childhood for anything. Going without taught me

to be strong when life is horrible and sometimes life is pretty horrible. But I just keep going forward because there's really nothing else you can do. And I can go to a thrift stores and put random treasure into pockets for junior high kids who don't fit in and just need a little boost. Stay sexy, keep thrifting, give quietly in without fanfare and always have pockets. My granny even sewed pockets into my doll's clothes. They're that important. Please give ear scritches to the pets for me, Holly. Holly, that's such a good story. Holly, thank you for sending that into us. There's also so much, you know, the thing about it is this woman didn't make a big scene in front of other people at this garage sale. She didn't do something where she grabbed the mother sand and

made it about herself. That the way she gave that had so much dignity in it. And it was just like for this little girl, you know what I mean? Of like, this is you're going to find this later. It's a little special. And like, she didn't know that girl had already put her hand in the pocket and like wouldn't have known it was there. You know what I mean? It was just like, this will make her day someday and it doesn't have to be about me in any fucking way at all. Right. Right. Yeah, I love that. It's beautiful. It's beautiful. Yeah. It also just makes me think I'm not going to compare the two. But being so broke that I was looking through my junk tour and I found some Mexican money from when we had gone on vacation like years before. Yeah. And I was

trying to, I went on the computer to figure out if I took it to the bank and changed it in how much American money I could get for these dollar bills or, you know, these Mexican pesos. Yeah. When you're broken stuck, those little gestures mean everything. The thing that hit me was with the putting $5 in the gas tank instead of two. When we would have no food in the house for a while, my mom would just go, this is what grocery shopping was called. We'd say, let's go bounce a check. Yeah. And we'd go and she'd write a check back when they couldn't check it, you know, at the store and I legit thought we were going to get arrested every time. But that's what like, not having to bounce a check to get groceries always was like a special, special time. I wouldn't

give up the things that we had to go without as a kid because it made me who I am and made you who you are. And it's pretty rad. Well, and then you have this kind of deeper understanding of what's going on around you. Yeah. Because it's not just like, oh, everything's easy for everybody. So whatever. It's like, you know how hard it can be and the difference it can make. Totally. Awesome. I love that story. I know. Also the fact that pockets were involved for some reason just got me. It went, it had everything. It was like women's secret communication or some beautiful support. Yeah. Pockets save. Sorry. Pockets. A poem by Georgia Habsburg. Send us your hometowns at my favorite motor at Gmail. We're looking through new ones. So you're always welcome

to send them again if you've already sent them before. An amazing batch. People really responded to this call out. Thank you so much for you guys. There's so many beautifully broken out. You see the paragraphs right there. Yeah. People are being concise. People are putting the work in. We really appreciate it. We do. Great stories this week. Thanks, you guys so much. Oh, by the way, you guys, this podcast is now available on Amazon Music. So check it out there. And thank you so much for listening. Yes. And stay sexy. And don't get murdered. Goodbye. Elvis, do you want a cookie? This has been an exactly right production. Our producer is Hannah Kyle Creighton, associate producer Alejandra Keck, engineer and mixer Steven Ray Morris, researchers

J. Elias and Haley Gray. Send us your hometowns and your fucking arrays at my favorite murder at gmail.com and follow the show on Instagram and Facebook at my favorite murder and Twitter at my fave murder. And for more information about this podcast, our live shows, merch, or to join the fan cult, go to my favorite murder.com. Rate, review and subscribe.