My Favorite Murder with Karen Kilgariff and Georgia Hardstark - MFM Minisode 245

Episode Date: September 20, 2021

This week's hometowns include an immortal nun and meals of filet mignon and vodka.See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

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And welcome. To my favorite murder. To my favorite murder. Oh yeah. The mini-soad. The mini-soad. That's Georgia Heart Star. That's Karen Kilgarov.

And we're recording on video right now. So it's going to be self-conscious, choppy, and less entertaining than normal, but people love video. That's right. It's going to be awkward. And you can watch all that on the fan cult. In the fan cult. Give him some angles, Georgia.

Angles. Here you go. Your hair looks good. Oh, thank you. I got cut and dyed yesterday. It looks like. Fresh. Yeah.

It's fresh. I had to try to do a little styling. Then I had to undo the styling. Yeah. And now I have a bunch of makeup and this is for the people that are just listening. Bunch of makeup and hair styled in the same black shirt I've been wearing for three years. I, uh, in a cut, I'd call it a Steve Jobs kind of approach to podcasting. It's minus the turtleneck part.

But basically I did my hair and then realized I'm just putting my giant headphones on anyways. So it doesn't matter. So that was a waste of time. But your bangs look great. They shiny. Swoopy. Repping. All right.

Should we do this? This is where we, we read you your hometown stories that you've sent us them and we appreciate it. Should we start over? No. This is the question. This is the question lately. Should we, should we start over?

I mean, yes, but will we start over? No. Do you want to go first? Sure. Okay. Hometown, a literal axe murderer. Hi friends. I will answer your desperate plea for more hometowns with this tale from my aunt, aunt

or aunt. It's her run in with an actual axe murderer back in the seventies. This takes place in Kings Park West in Springfield, Virginia, which is also a location mentioned in your Bunny Man episode. I thought this may have been the Bunny Man actually, but it took place a different year. My aunt and her boyfriend were parked in a dark construction site making out one night. Oh, the seventies. The field they were in had some half constructed houses, lumberling, everywhere, et cetera.

Their car was facing the woods as they were making out when they heard a sound. My aunt heard it more so than her boyfriend did, but when the sound happened a second time, her boyfriend heard it enough that he turned the headlights on. Yeah. If this is firming up to be, to sound like a real urban legend right now. It does, but it's her aunt. It's not like her, her friend's aunt. You know what I mean?

Very true. Yes. Out of the woods, walking directly at their vehicle was a man holding all caps, a fucking axe, and he started all caps walking on their car with it. Walking on their car with an axe. Holding it. Yeah. Like that's menacing.

Nope. Sorry. I got the word wrong. Wailing on their car with it. Wait. Oh, so actually attacking the car. Yeah. So that's not like, oh, there's some guy who is like the four men and he like is trying

to scare kids making out. He's wailing on their fucking car with an axe. Puncturing metal to scare children who are just trying to have sex in their small town. That's not a scare. That's menacing. Boyfriends struggled to get the key and the ignition to start the car because he was shaking so badly. But when he finally did and punched it into reverse, the car backed into a huge log and

got stuck. No. My aunt says it was like something out of a horror movie. They had to rack the car back and forth to get it off the log, screaming hysterically the whole time while evading the axe-wielding psychopath. And they were finally able to peel out. They reported to the cops immediately. My aunt swears there were two men, though it sounds like only one did the majority of

the damage. Quite some time went by before she heard anything from the police, but she was called into the station one day, months later, to identify their attacker in a line-up. Unfortunately, the same man or men who attacked them with an axe later murdered a couple they encountered on a playground. That was what got them arrested and the cops fingered the men as the same two who had tried to kill my aunt and her boyfriend. So it's fucking a literal act.

Sure. Truly murderers. That's insane. Yeah. It took my aunt a long time to cope with their near-death experience and she still sounds traumatized when she talks about it, but she remembers damn near every detail. Of course she does. Stay sexy and don't make out near the woods, Katie.

So she is a living relative who lived through what all urban legends are based on, essentially. And every 70s horror movie happened. Unbelievable. The thought of like, oh, here's a menacing man coming towards us. What's he going to do? And it's always like, what are they going to do? When they actually start wailing on the car is the moment of this isn't just a prank. Yeah, they're not just trying to be kind of scary and give some kids a fright.

Right. It's like, well, first of all, now you've even involved our insurance company by actually puncturing my car. I keep thinking of like an axe going through metal. Yeah. That's scary. That's very violent. Do they have car insurance in the 70s?

They've had it since the 1620s. What if one of my secret passions was insurance? Yeah. Okay. This is so good. It just starts y'all. There's nothing more interesting than talking about your childhood with your parents and one of them casually mentions an interesting or slightly negligent piece of information.

I mean, you're telling us? Yeah. We based this whole podcast on that. Shep's kiss. But thank you for, it's good to restate the thesis, so thank you. As conversations usually go with your parents involving wine, one of them will slip up because you're an adult and you've already survived all their shit anyway. So we're sitting on the deck after some random family dinner and then this part is written

like a play. Dad, to my mom, hey, remember when we saw one of their babysitters on America's Most Wanted? Mom. Oh yeah. That unexpected plot twist and then it just says in all caps, full fucking stop. Once I picked my job off the ground, my dad went on to explain. When I was a baby and my brothers were toddlers, when my parents went out, a woman who we'll

call Mary used to babysit us. She took really good care of us, washed us diligently, cooked dinner and tucked us in before my parents would return. This happened on Fridays for a couple of months. One night my parents were watching America's Most Wanted and a picture of Mary, all caps, appeared on the screen. Oh my God. I imagine my parents exchanging nervous glance, needless to say, we never saw Mary again.

I'm actually not sure if she was ever caught or what she did. The only thing I know is that according to my parents, quote, she probably took really good care of you because your dad was a deputy sheriff and she needed the money, casual shrug. Stay sexy and don't let wanted criminals babysit your children for two months, Devin. No, what did she do? I have to know everything. If she had already been a criminal and she was just casually at, what was it, state trooper, you know.

Yeah, deputy sheriff. Law enforcement's house. That's ballsy. It is genius like hiding in plain sight action. Right. Right. Very smart of this so-called Mary. I would say though that this would be a much more kind of like excited story, excitable

story. If Mary was some kind of a murderer, I think that would absolutely have been told. So it seems to me most wanted maybe a bank robber. That's what I was going to say. Something like that. Yeah, something checks. They did a lot of check laundering, money laundering back then. On the most wanted list?

When they were boring. Yeah. I'm from the local of Dega that keeps writing bad checks. $10.25. She could write in $10 checks to get a roll of quarters so she can do laundry. Yep. Okay. Hometown, juicy details.

In the early 2000s, I was putting myself through college working at a fine dining restaurant in a small resort town in Maryland. One day our matriot D, and by the way, they put the little lots and stuff all like wrote matriot D correctly. Our matriot D, Richard picture early 50s lots for that French word. I don't know. I'm not French. Richard picture early 50s, Silver Fox impeccably put together, didn't show up for his shift.

This was completely out of character as he was always the first to arrive. Just before service started that evening, Richard's wife called the restaurant to see if he was at work. She was concerned. He wasn't at home, but the iron was on and his apron was still in the dryer. After her call, we were all concerned. Around 9pm that night, Richard's wife called back to speak with the owner. Our entire service staff hung in the quote dungeon, the staff hangout room, anxiously

waiting information. The owner came downstairs and led with Richard won't be coming back to work. Here's the scoop. His poor wife had come to learn from the police that Richard had been having an affair. Earlier that afternoon, he had been at the other woman's house eating filet mignon and drinking vodka. Then it says strangely specific details. After lunch, he picked up some item from the table, rumors abound, steak knife, key, ice

pick and stabbed her in the mid back and then left. She was able to call 911 and relay what had happened and who stabbed her. Richard returned home, apparently intent on heading into work. And then she wrote you put his apron in the dryer and showered. While he was getting ready, the police arrived and placed him under arrest. Richard's wife arrived home to find Richard missing. Sidebar on her way home, she passed the woman's ambulance traveling with lights and sirens towards the hospital.

So she gets home, the irons on, he's gone because they fucking yanked him out of the shower basically while everything was still on. The woman ultimately survived. Richard spent something like a year and a half in jail for the assault. That's weirder during Richard's trial, we learned that in his early adulthood, he'd been living in the Cayman Islands. Then it says that might not be exactly right. Might have been the Bahamas.

One evening, you're on the right podcast. One evening after a meal of filet mignon and vodka, he stabbed his dining companion in the back as they left the restaurant. He served something like three years in a Cayman prison for that attack. What the fuck? What kind of weirdo had we been working with? That's all. And don't drink vodka with your filet mignon, Sarah.

That was like his triggering meal, beverage combination. What happened when he was a child eating filet mignon and vodka? Like something, oh, that was his like school lunch and something went wrong. Also, yeah. Was he waiting like, was it one of those things where he had this, this secret life kind of and it was all in balance and then whatever she told him could have been, I'm going to leave you, could have been I'm going to have a baby, right? Like then he just flipped.

There's a lot to be, there's a lot to be heard about this story. Truly. Also, it just, it really does seem like stabbing someone you should be in jail for more than one year. But yeah. Yeah. Anyway, I won't read you this, this subject line. It just says, what's up, my people?

I recently took a trip to my hometown and while reminiscing with some friends, I was reminded of a story that I felt you needed to hear. I went to an all girls Catholic high school in Louisville, Kentucky. We only had a handful of nuns teaching there, mostly just religion classes. This is except for sister Lorna. Sister Lorna taught two classes, chemistry and forensic science elective. Oh, because, because all nuns are blood spatter analysts, right? Although I didn't get to take the elective, she did drop a comment in my chemistry class

that I'll never forget. Quick note to know first, sister Lorna is all business, no nonsense, and she does not joke around. This is corroborated by my 70 year old aunt, my 45 year old cousin, oldish sister, and now younger second cousins who all had her as teachers. Whoa. Yeah, right? She is clearly immortal.

While learning about anthrax and apple seeds, she casually dropped this gem, quote, anthrax. Tastes real sweet. I had a friend kill her husband that way, put it in his ice cream. Then she casually turned back around to the chalkboard and kept teaching, allowing zero room for any follow-up. Most people assume she was fucking with us, but I'm pretty sure lying is against the rules of being a nun and like I said before, no nonsense, no jokes. Over 10 years later, I'm still thinking about that friend, her arsenic, and if she got any

help covering it up from a forensics loving nun, stay sexy and don't trust nuns MPS. She was also the only teacher to ever catch me cheating on a quiz, talk about Catholic guilt. Ooh. Wow. Nuns. Forensics and nuns, I wouldn't equate with each other, but I feel like I think she was just trying to freak and freak students out and make them pay attention.

That's so good. I could see that. I just feel like if you're a nun, how would you, you can't lie and you're not in the habit of, you're not in the habit of fucking with people. Yes. High five yourself on that one. I was going to say she can, she's not allowed to lie to adults, but they're just teenagers. That's true.

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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. Okay, hometown stories. You asked. Hello, Karen and Georgia. First time, short time, I'm a new listener but not new to loving fucked up true crime

stories. My story happened in a town about 11 miles east of downtown LA. I worked in the town commuting from the South Bay and then it says, where were podcasts during that hellish commute? They were a couple of years away. I would always stop for coffee at a Starbucks near work and then head into the office at about 9am. I got a spot right in front.

Woop. When I came out of the store, I noticed a young woman in the driver's side of a parked car next to me and she was upset and a man was standing over her between the inside of the driver's door and her seated. So like blocking her from closing the door. It looked like a family dispute. As I got into my car, I put my coffee in the cup holder and I made eye contact with her. She mouthed, help me and I said, fuck and got out of the car and locked it.

I said to him, I don't think she wants you by her right now. You should leave. Sidebar. I had just started dog training lessons and had learned some good body language slash confidence building from it. So she like learned, used her dog training. I love that. I sort of from a distance.

Well, wait. Sorry. What does that mean? Like she was standing. Yeah. Like authoritatively. Because her dog won't sit unless she does it that way. Well, yeah, you have to have those like confidence about like you're in charge, not the dog.

Oh, okay. Oh, so she was like, I was in charge of that dog training lesson and I'm going to bring that right into this potentially violent situation. Bringing in the dog training energy to the man yelling at situation. Yeah. Um, I sort of from a distance, shoot him away. He said, okay, okay. He got into his car.

I called 911 told them that the make and model and license plate. Another woman came up to me in the law and said, I and said, she saw what I was doing. We went to the young lady who was in hysterics. I was on full adrenaline. She said he had a gun and was trying to get her to move over so he could drive. She had met him at church and he had texted her to see if she would pray with him. My husband later told me to call 911 first, then chase him away. And then she wrote, who knew?

The creep was soon arrested. Turns out he had a laundry list of priors. He was 64 and had cut off his tracking parole, anklet, a last hurrah before retiring to prison. I went to the police station, oh, and had a total meltdown at work 30 minutes later when the adrenaline wore off. They handed me a photo lineup and I ID'd him. He was arrested that day.

Wow. Months later, I was a witness at the trial and got to see the young lady. She was in therapy and going to college. He got convicted. A year later, the woman who helped and I were given the courageous citizen award and pinned from the DA's office. Hey. So kind of a superhero.

No big whoop. Stay sassy, sexy, and don't get murdered. Always be a badass bitch, Jen. Jen, congratulations on your award and congratulations on calling an ankle monitor an anklet. Truly a hero for our times. An accessorizing hero of our times. That is awesome though. A woman like literally said, help me.

And she fucking sprung into action. You know, that just makes me think that I bet a lot of times like that, if somebody is like the person holding the gun, it's the whole, don't make any noise or basically just do what I say and comply. And the idea that there was a person there that she could even look at to mouth that too. Totally. Thank God.

Like, thank God. Serendipitous timing, all that stuff. It's crazy and good for all of them. Good for everybody in that story. Except for one person. Yeah. Except for one piece of shit. This one is truly a gem.

The subject line is margues for minors. Greetings pets and patrons of MFM. I was going to say Patrons. Because of margaritas? Yeah. I guess so. Okay. You asked for embarrassing stories and my family retells this story 18 years later at

every gathering. So here we go. These are what we want. Everyone. This is... It's all there. I grew up in a very tight-knit suburban neighborhood full of young kids. Every year for the 4th of July, my neighborhood would rotate houses to host a party with

everyone's kids. When my family's turn came around, my mother was over the moon excited, decorating the whole place and even going so far as to get enough alcoholic and non-alcoholic margaritas for the whole neighborhood to share. And then in parentheses, it says, you know exactly where this is going. Oh, no, I do. As guests started to arrive, my mother, confident in me being the angel child that I was, sent me to grab the non-alcoholic margarita mix to start serving the kids.

When my mom later went to the garage to grab the margarita mix for the adults a full hour later, she'd realized she'd made a horrible mistake. Can I say something real... Sorry, go ahead. Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah. I just want to say like kids don't need non-alcoholic margaritas. Just give them lemonade. It's like fake cigarettes.

You know? Yes. It's an adult's idea of what would be good, which is like, no, this is like sour lemon lime, not carbonated, gross, it's like a melted diet slurpee. But you're also telling kids that like margaritas are the only way to have a good time at a party. You know what I mean? Right.

I feel like that person believed it. I agree. Well, I don't disagree. And I don't disagree. What other options? I know. It's so funny and not. Okay, Mackenzie, do you want salt around your rim?

Come back over here. Okay. So, in a panic, the adults rushed outside to find the alcoholic margarita mix depleted and the children of the neighborhood absolutely wasted. Oh my God. I distinctly remember one mother being horrified and taking her, in parentheses, mostly sober kids home in a huff. Being a strictly rule-abiding child who couldn't even bear the thought of cheating on my homework,

I was absolutely beside myself, over having ruined the holiday. Another mom, whose six-year-old had drank three margaritas and was found stumbling around drunk in the garden, grabbed my face while crying, laughing to tell me I had given her the best Fourth of July of her life. Fortunately, for the sake of my reputation, the following year, another neighbor accidentally shot off a firework into a crowd of bystanders and this quickly surpassed the margarita fiasco in the collective memory of our neighborhood, but my family has never let me forget it. Stay sexy and be sure to read your margarita mix labels, M.

Yeah, but also, mom, don't send your kid down to figure out which one is which. Don't do... You don't need to do virgin cocktails. Virgin cocktail... It's like have a Shirley Temple or have... Why don't you take some hummingbird feeder mix because it's just like half sugar, half dye. But also like, oh, I wish I could have been there for those drunk kids.

Oh, shit. How funny. Like, not that it's good, but how funny would it have been? Well, it's... You know what it is? That mom, God bless her soul, understood this is the weirdest, craziest thing that could possibly happen, especially in... If it was 18 years ago, that was like the dawning of the helicopter parenting era, right?

And suburbia, where it's like, nothing goes wrong. I love it. Yeah. Send us those stories, you guys. It's... Yeah. When you did... You fucked up big time, but it actually...

It wasn't the worst thing. Yeah. It was kind of the most hilarious. Or kids accidentally getting drunk. That's a great one. My cousin did that at a Hanukkah party, just went around drinking all the almost empties of glasses and wine and shit. Shit face.

I got accidentally drunk a ton of times as a child. Send us my favorite murder at Gmail. Stay sexy. And don't get murdered. Goodbye. Goodbye. Elvis, do you want a cookie? This has been an exactly right production.

Our producer is Hannah Kyle Crichton, associate producer Alejandra Keck, engineer and mixer Stephen Ray Morris, researchers J. Elias and Hailey Gray. Send us your hometowns and your fucking hurrays at myfavoritmurderatgmail.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 MyFavoritMurder.com. And don't forget to rate, review, and subscribe!